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Come

By: SimonBrooke



For Kari, who inspired it.

The rope which holds my collar to the eyebolt in the floor is short; about thirty centimetres. If I pull my head back I can see it looped through the bolt. Just looped, the knot is at the collar end, where I cannot get my teeth to it. I can't get my hands to it either, because they are bound securely behind my back. But it's that rope - that thin, tough synthetic rope, that my teeth leave no marks on - that holds me here.

I could lie down, of course. Just lie on my side... but the floor is hard and cold; uncomfortable. So I don't. I could rest my cheek on the floor, let it take some of the weight. I'd balance better. But I know he'd like it - he likes to push me down like that, when he fucks me. It's a very surrendered posture. Kneeling with my head off the floor - not up, the rope won't let me lift it up - feels less surrendered. I have dignity. Not much, I know how my cunt is presented to him, open to his gaze...

At least, I think it is. I assume he's still here in the room with me. I assume he's enjoying this. I'm not completely certain. He's - if he's still here - very silent.

It's not that my knees can't take the weight - they can. It isn't that my back is hurting, yet. It's not that my shoulders hurt, although they do. It's that I can't do it. Without fingers, without a story whispered softly in my ear, I can't come.

I'm here until I come. When I come, he'll free me. He does what he says he will. Of course he'll fuck me then - either first or afterwards - but I want him to. He knows I want him to. But I have to come. I have to come, first.

Almost I wish I could pretend, like Harry met Sally. Almost. But, I gush. He makes me gush. He knows that. And I'm sure he's watching, watching for that. And one of the things I fear is that this time I might not gush. I don't always. I usually didn't before I met him. And if I don't, will he believe I was faking? He would be angry if he thought I'd faked it. I don't want him to be angry.

I don't want to piss myself, either. My bladder isn't uncomfortable yet. But he said I'd stay here until I came, and he meant it. I won't be allowed up to piss. When my bladder is full, I'll piss here where I crouch, and he'll see me. If I haven't come first. I am really so not OK with him watching me piss. Not yet, anyway. One day, perhaps.

All these things together - the hardness of the floor, the coolness of the room, the soreness in my shoulders, the fear of pissing, the fear of not gushing - all these things together are fighting me, holding me back, taking me away from that warm sexy place where I can come.

I could safeword. I actually could safeword. It's weird - I thought I'd safeword under the lash, the first time. But when it happened I didn't even feel like it. And this? This is so not dangerous. He isn't even touching me. I'm not even certain he's here. But I so don't want to piss. It would so humiliate me to piss. And thinking about it so much is making me feel the need to - no! Don't go there.

'You don't get punished for safewording...' Yeah, right. No, he wouldn't punish me. Not anything he'd see as punishment. He's be the perfect gentleman, let me up, let me get dressed, help me pack, drive me to the train station. But that would be the end of this weekend. And next weekend? Next weekend, would he even want me to come?

He wants me to come now. He wants me to! And I want to, too. I just can't! It so unfair. So unfair. If he would whisper to me, I'd come. If he'd belt me I'd probably come, like I did last time. If he'd touch me. I so want him to touch me.

Nothing. Silence. Should I beg? He hasn't forbidden me to beg. He hasn't forbidden... I could. But it isn't what he wants. I know what he wants.

Two days ago I came in his car. I was naked, as so often, on the way here. My wrists were bound with a cord behind my seat, as they often are - at first, I think, so I couldn't push his hand away when he touched me. The first time we met, when he touched me up as he drove me here - it was only fifteen minutes after we'd met in real life for the first time, and I was so shy of being touched up by someone who was almost a stranger. Oh! I can almost feel his finger inside me now. Oh. Yes, this is the right thing to think about... anyway, that first time, that first time I'd pushed his hand away. He watched the road, and drove well, and talked quietly about things we might do. And then he'd change gear, and his hand would be on my... on my... and I'd push it away. I didn't want to push it away. But I did. 

So since then my hands are mostly tied, in the car. I've come to welcome it - a little ritual. When we meet, I'm wearing just my coat - and my collar and cuffs, of course. It's a tench-coat, long, loose. No-one can see there's nothing under it. I know there's nothing under it. He knows there's nothing under it. I know he knows; he knows I know he knows. 

Hot. So hot, to know he knows.

We go out of the station; he holds the passenger door open for me, like a gentleman, and I smile, and get in. I put my wrists down by the side of my seat, and he clips my left cuff to the hook that's there before he closes the door. When he gets in his side, he clips my other cuff, too, and I know why, and I shiver. Home. Secured. Safe. 

In a little backstreet, away from the crowds, he stops a moment to unbutton my coat, to fold it out of his way, to expose me. Usually I can't look at him in that moment. Usually I'm too needy, too wanton... too shy. I don't want him to really know quite how desperate I am. How desperate I am for him.

And usually I don't have to wait long. Usually, before we get to the motorway, I'm shuffling my thighs wider to make more room for his hand, to let his fingers in deeper. And I come. Usually, many times, on that drive back from the station. There isn't a folded towel on my seat for nothing!

But this time - two days ago, Friday, in his car - he didn't touch me. He secured me and exposed me just as usual, but he didn't touch me. I whined. I did beg. I spread my legs as wide as I could, displaying for him. He smiled, and drove smoothly, and started to tell me one of his stories. One of his stories about us. And I came. I came so hard! I think I may have passed out for a moment...

Afterwards he was still driving steadily, easily, with a smile on his face. It's often like that. He does take a pride in me. He does take a pride in what he does to me. He seems to care far more for my orgasms than for his own, and he works on them. I come far more for him than I ever did before. More and easier and sooner and harder. And he knows that. He works on that. He's training me, and I know he's training me. Sometimes I feel like a show dog. But... I love it. I love it when he makes me come. Especially when - like that time in the art gallery - it's really inappropriate.

This is good. This is helping. I'm getting there. My breasts feel full, heavy. Looking between them, I can see the sheen of the sticky fluid that's cooling my thighs.

I so need him in me now.

And I can have him in me now... All I need to do is come.

And I can't! I can't! Remembering these things is good, but not enough! I'm not quite getting there!

I could rock back on my heel, grind my cunt into my heel. Then I'd come. OK, so he doesn't want that - he said, no touching - but what's he going to do about it? Belt me? If he belts me, I'll come. Probably. Now. And he knows that. So he won't. He wants me to come without touching...

And I want to please him. So I could rock back on my heel, squeeze my aching clit against my heel, rock myself on the crest of my heel. I could do that. It would work. I would come. Perhaps... perhaps if the need to piss gets too urgent, perhaps I'll do that. If I come, he'll release me. He said so. But he won't be pleased.

The thing is, he believes in me. He isn't unfair. He wouldn't have set me this to do if he didn't believe I could do it. He believes it... and he's probably right, if only I believed it. If only I believed I could, I probably could. Damn this hard floor, this cool room, these aching shoulders! I want, I want, I so want...

And five minutes ago I was nearly there. Thinking about the car, about the art gallery, were nearly enough. Nearly enough. Almost. I can get there. I can do it. He will be so pleased with me if I do it. He will praise me so much if I do it. He will fuck me... he will fuck my cunt so hard if I do it.

His cunt. He will fuck his cunt. His. Oh, hot. Oh, so, so hot. His.

If I do it! I have to do it. I have to. All I need to do is think of a scene that's sexy enough, that's hot enough, that works for me enough... The wood would do. That scene in the wood would do... maybe. Well, probably. But there's another one, another one I'd like to try first. I close my eyes, and concentrate, and let the picture form in my mind. This picture.

The rope which holds my collar to the eyebolt in the floor is short. If I pull my head back I can see it looped through the bolt. Just looped, the knot is at the collar end, where I cannot get my teeth to it. I can't get my hands to it either, because they are bound securely behind my back. But it's that rope - that thin, tough synthetic rope, that my teeth leave no marks on, that holds me here.

I could lie down, of course. Just lie on my side... but the floor is hard and cold; uncomfortable. So I don't. I rest my cheek on the floor, let it take some of the weight. I know he'll like it - he likes to push me down like this, when he fucks me. It's a very surrendered posture. I know how my cunt is presented to him, open to his gaze...

Come



"Come," the message appeared on my phone. It had been weeks since he and I had been together. I stared at the screen, feeling my blood start to get hotter. 

"Yes." 

I was in my car and on the road. I needed it so bad and so suddenly. My phone vibrated in my pocket, "Get your sexy ass in my bed, right now." I was suddenly driving 70mph on a dirt road. It was needed. 

I flew up the driveway and almost left my keys in my car in my rush to get to him. I dropped all my things on the counter in his kitchen and walked straight to his bedroom, taking off my sweater as I walked. He shut the door as I walked in and then I was on the bed. His mouth was covering mine completely and I was lost in him. His smell. His weight. His body pressing mine down into the bed from above. We didn't want to waste any time. It was probably only five minutes of adolescent style making out before he slid away and pulled off my jeans and my thong, dropping his shorts and boxers in the process. I watched as he pulled off his shirt. My breath caught, I was still not used to how sexy he looks with no clothes on. 6'3" with dark chocolate eyes. Thin and toned and tan. He looked like a god standing naked at the foot of the bed. I could feel the rest of the blood in my body rushing to between my legs. Foreplay seemed entirely undesirable and unnecessary. I needed it. 

He complied. 

As if he had heard my thoughts he was all around me. I could feel his hand slide to the wetness between my legs and he immediately slid his perfect cock into me. That moment when he entered, time stood still. His body pressed into mine all the way down and we let it be for a moment. Why rush it. He kissed me and slowly slid back out, almost completely, before he more forcefully pushed back in. I was already in heaven. He knew exactly how to fuck me to make me need more and less and everything all at once. Then he was fucking me harder because a few months is way too long a time for just a quickie and a few blow jobs. His hip bones were digging into my thighs and I was kissing his neck. 7.5 inches and harder than I had ever felt it, nailing into me over and over again. He reached his fingers down and started circling over my clit. I immediately began trembling in his arms. His face lit up. He loves making me feel pure bliss. Way too soon, I was feeling myself reach the uncomfortable edge of orgasm. The blood was pumping so hard to my pussy I thought that I was going to pass out. With one especially hard thrust into me, I was gone. My walls clenched his dick harder and my back was off the bed. Not much later he had pulled out and shoved his dick in my mouth. I sucked the cum from his dick contently, knowing it wasn't over yet. 

He looked down at me and kissed me gently. I could feel his magnificent cock twitching on my leg. It was baffling how quick this man could be ready for more. When he reentered me it took more time. He wasn't fully hard yet and I was still breathing my way out of the last round. He looked directly into my eyes and slowly worked his way in. It felt so erotic to have his burning hot dick, half-hard and getting harder inside of me. He started moving in me. His shoulder pressed into my mouth and his face rested on my shoulder. We were so close it seemed like we were becoming one person. 

Then, suddenly, he wasn't inside of me anymore. He flipped me over onto my stomach and pulled my ass up towards him. He was running his hands over my ass and pressing his dick against my hole. I felt him enter just slightly but without lube or any prep, it was so painful I cried out. That was a sound he had never heard before. He pulled his dick back out and added fingers. I was somehow managing to fuck his fingers and beg him to stop at the same time. He could sense that I would let him do it but it would hurt me very badly so he slid him dick back into my pussy from behind me. With me on my hands and knees, I could feel every inch of his dick and it burned deep inside but felt like heaven. His hand reached around me and played with my clit. Soon I was back on my back with him thrusting into me harder than ever before. He was panting into my ear and I kissed his neck. The kisses only made him go harder. Then I lost it. 

I was moaning and gasping and begging and thrusting back up to him. "God, baby. Oooh. Yes. Oh godddd. Mhmmmmm. Josh. Mmmmmmmmmmmm. Harder. Please." I don't know why I thought harder was possible but apparently it was. He kept kissing my shoulder blade and neck and lips while fucking me with everything he had. My pussy was spilling juices around his cock. He was looking at me with a smirk on his face when I came before him, again. My eyes rolled back in my head, my back came off of the mattress, his name was pouring from my lips and all I could see was that smirk or pride plastered on his face. He fucked me for just a little while longer before cumming. 

That was one of my top 3 favorite fucks of all time.



Come-A-Lot



My children call my mother Sweetie. She never wanted to be called Grandma, Granny, Nana, or Nona to begin with. When the kids were babies, she always called them "sweetie" and somehow, starting with Kristen, the eldest, she responded in kind, calling her grandmother Sweetie. My other two daughters, Meghan and Tara, fell right into line.

One afternoon, when all three girls were home from college, my mom, Irene—that's her real name—invited the girls over to teach them how to make homemade pasta and sauce from scratch and they had an awesome time. The fun started when Tara offered to get a jar of sauce and box of spaghetti from the cupboard. 

"Not so fast," scolded Sweetie, who pointed to a bag of flower, a mixing bowl, and a basket of fresh red tomatoes on her counter. "We're not just gonna cook the meal, we're gonna make it."

During their kitchen labors, Sweetie talked about her bygone days. A young wife and mother in the 1950s and '60s, she mixed her personal history with world affairs—JFK, Martin Luther King, RFK, and the heartbreak of their assassinations.

"Everybody cried," Sweetie said. "It was like we knew them." Then, after half a century, Irene Corbett choked back tears. 

"Oh, Sweetie, it's all right." Kristen put her arm around her grandmother. 

"Was it true about President Kennedy and Marilyn?" Meghan asked.

"People didn't know about it till years later," Irene explained to the three siblings. Their eyes widened in disbelief when my proper and upstanding mother commented, "Jack was so-o-o damn sexy." It wasn't what she said, but the way she said it—a long, slow, breathy hushed voice dripping with ancient passion, which intrigued and confused the three young women.

"Did you ever see him in person?" asked Kristen, adding water to the mixture of flour coalescing into dough under the kneading of Meghan's fingers.

"In the flesh," Sweetie replied cryptically, while guiding Tara's hands using a pairing knife to peel the skin off the tomato without slicing her own.

Sweetie unveiled her untold story to my three grownup daughters.

During the spring of 1963, President John F. Kennedy gave a speech at American University. My dad, Ronnie Corbett was working for NOAA, "the Weather Bureau," at the time. Ronnie got a call at work from a man named Dave Powers at the White House, who said the President needed a place to sleep overnight before the speech and asked if our house in Chevy Chase, Maryland was available.

"Is the Pope Catholic?" My dad howled with excited laughter. "Does the bear shit in the woods?" 

"If that's a yes," drawled Powers in a thick Bostonian accent. "The Secret Service will stop by to case the joint."

Ronnie thought to ask, "Can Irene and I be at home when he comes?"

"Are you Democrats?" chuckled the President's best friend.

"We are now!" my dad declared.

"Well, good, Jack likes company."

By mid-afternoon, two Secret Service agents and a Marine corporal came to our house and began an inch-by-inch inspection, right down to lifting the carpet and checking the floor boards. During supper, a third agent reported that all our neighbors passed inspection and the President would arrive by ten o'clock. The Secret Service men left, but the Marine guard stayed, standing silently at attention beside the doorway of the spare bedroom, where the Chief Executive would sleep.

I was only four and my sister was six. We wondered what all the fuss was about and Sweetie put us to bed at the usual time, so we never even got to see the star of the country himself. On a balmy late spring evening, all was quiet till around a quarter to ten, when the roar of motorcycles filled the night air. The police cyclists escorted three limousines, the last in line being the bubble top with the Commander-in-Chief aboard. In a flurry of walkie-talkie chatter, red lights flashing, car doors opening and slamming, a team of bodyguards in suits and ties surrounded a surprisingly average sized man who walked briskly but stiffly across our threshold.

At the door, before Irene could spit out the words she laboriously rehearsed, "We're honored to have you as a guest in our home, Mister President," the leader of the free world shook my father's hand, kissed my mother's cheek, and said, "Please, call me Jack."

The next five minutes would be relived a thousand times by Ronnie Corbett as he and JFK exchanged war stories. My dad had been a pilot, like Jack's elder brother, flying a P-25 Mustang in the Korean War.

"I thought the P-25 was used for reconnaissance in the Second World War," the President wondered.

"The Air Force brought the Mustang back for Korea 'cause they were such great airplanes," Ronnie explained. "I could fly circles around Ivan and his MIGs any day of the week." 

My mother asked, "Would you like coffee or tea...or hot cocoa before bed?"

President Jack, seated beside Irene on a cloth-cushioned couch, turned to face her with some effort. Mom had read about his chronic back pain. He spoke softly, "Thank you, no. I might have trouble getting to sleep if I take anything this late."

My dad asked, "A nightcap?"

"A spot of whiskey would do nicely," replied the man who said "Ich bein ein Berliner" in the shadow of The Wall.

While Ronnie retrieved the Old Hickory and a shot glass, Irene asked, "Where's Mrs. Kennedy tonight?"

"Jacqueline is at home...not at the White House...in Hyannis." Jack explained, "She's having a difficult pregnancy. She's on bed rest."

"Oh," Irene moaned in empathy. "I'm sorry to hear that. Well, please give her my regards."

Jack nodded his head in response as if he actually would give Irene's regards to the First Lady. Then the President of the United States put his hand on my mother's knee—underneath the hem of her skirt, near the edge of her nylon hose, and gave her a smoldering look. Irene was dumbstruck, ogling him, and feeling moisture puddling in the silk of her panties.

My parents' house guest kept his hands to himself as my father returned and handed him the shot of whiskey, which Jack immediately threw back. "I should hit the sack," he informed the married couple. "My staff has given me quite a full schedule tomorrow morning."

"Lemme show you to your room...I mean, our guest room," my mother stammered, still feeling the electricity of his hand touching her leg. 

My mom was a thirty-year-old Italian-American suburban princess with the heavy thud of a blue collar dialect. Her dark brown locks were thick and luxurious, complemented by cocoa bean eyes and full rosy lips against her coffee colored complexion. The curves of her breasts, hips, and butt were round and thick, but not fat. She had broad shoulders, powerful legs, and muscular arms, but the smile of a child full of joy. She walked up the stairs alongside the President who patted her bottom when they reached the landing at the top. His hand was so deft from experience that he bypassed her butt cheeks and found her plump mons. 

Irene turned toward him. Their faces were intimately close. She asked, "Do you make a pass at every woman you meet?"

Looking aghast, Jack shook his head. "Why, no, of course not." He moved his lips to Irene's ear. "Only those I deem worthy."

Wanting to kiss his mouth, but not daring to do so, my horny mom challenged the great philanderer. "Has any woman ever turned you down?"

Emitting a chuckle, "Once," Jack said, "when I was recuperating at the naval hospital after the war. The head nurse—she was old enough to be my mother." After a pause, he admitted, "The night nurse was a beautiful half-Oriental, half-Negro girl. She nursed me back to good health with a passion."

Pretending disapproval, Irene ushered Jack into the room, showed him the adjacent bathroom, and watched him open his overnight bag. 

"I'm giving the American University commencement address tomorrow. It's to be rather an important speech. I'm going to challenge Chairman Krushchev to start to end the nuclear arms race."

Irene Corbett, my little mommy, felt a wild blend of sexual arousal and admiration for the man in the room. If Ronnie hadn't been around and about, she would have jumped JFK's bones right then and there. Instead, she watched in fascination as Honey Fitz's grandson opened several bottles of pills in rapid order and popped them all in his mouth.

"Lemme get you a cup of water," she said, running to the bathroom sink. She returned with it and watched the First Citizen swallow with some effort. In later years, Irene speculated whether the meds were for Addison's disease, his chronic back pain, or vitamins—some of the pills were likely amphetamines or speed.

President Jack smiled before he planted his lips on Irene's and kissed her long and hard, cradling her in his arms. "Come back in an hour," he said to her as she stared wide-eyed, too paralyzed with fear and longing to speak out loud.

In the following sixty minutes, Irene showered, shaved her legs and underarms, shampooed her gorgeous head of hair, splashed fancy French cologne on her sexy body, clipped and filed her fingernails and toenails, and trimmed the long strands of her stringy pubic triangle. Downstairs, she made a cup of hot cocoa for Ronnie and stirred in three dissolved sleepy-time pills—not enough to kill him, just to knock him out for the night. My dad was asleep in about five minutes, by the time my mom put on her frilly, lacy, powder blue nightie. She pecked a kiss on Ron's forehead and whispered an apologia.

Then Irene Amerigo Corbett knelt by the side of the bed, clutched her rosary beads, crossed herself, and folded her hands in prayer. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, forgive me for what I'm about to do...for the sin I'm about to commit. Amen." Then she kissed the rosaries, made the sign of the cross again, and got to her feet. She looked at the crucifix on the wall and her wedding picture on the nightstand. She turned off the light switch and muttered, "O dio meo!" 

Irene walked past the Marine standing guard without a word. Opening the door to the spare bedroom, a ray of light cut through the darkness like a beacon and the most powerful politician in the world spoke her name, "Irene," and her nervousness shone as a body-wracking shudder.

"Nothin' I could ever do would top Marilyn Monroe singin' 'Happy Birthday, Mister President' to you," admitted Irene, who didn't realize only four people in the ballroom a year ago knew the living sex symbol's vamping was for real—Jack, Jackie, Bobby, and Marilyn herself—plus the criminally malevolent troll that ran the FBI who was illegally tapping the President's private phone line. "But here goes nothin'."

With that, Irene lifted the little nightie over her head and slid her panties to the floor. The dim light cast from a corner lamp was enough to show her full breasts, round nipples, and dark pubis to The Man. 

With a coquettish curtsy, even though she was shivering as if an Arctic wind blew, Irene dropped to her hands and knees and wiggled her butt and titties with a big smile. Then she went down flat on her tummy and told Jack, "I'm gonna crawl on my belly like a snake for you." 

She dragged herself along the floor with elaborately mechanical movements of her arms, hips, and legs with a sensuous swivel from the base of her spine and a leering curl of her lips. She breathed heavily and sighed as she crawled toward the bed. 

"Jack, I want you to get out from the bed." Not without some discomfort, Jack stood up by the bedside. He was in the nude and his manhood was poised. "Now, I'm gonna worship you like a god!"

Starting at his feet, Irene kissed, caressed, and licked his toes, his ankles, and the bottom of his soles. She moaned audibly at the flavor of his flesh. Then she moved up his legs, over his calves, knees, and thighs. She moved around to his backside and lovingly stroked, kissed, nibbled, and licked his ass. 

She had never tasted Ronnie's asshole, but she rimmed Jack's rectum with her tongue, deposited a mouthful of saliva in his anus, and licked it out. Next she kissed the inverted triangle at the base of his spinal chord and rolled her tongue all the way up his back. She touched his shoulder blades and shoulders with her hands and tongue and rubbed her breasts against his ribs. 

Around front she kissed his neck, collar bone, pectorals, and abdomen, and then licked, stroked, and kissed his biceps, forearms, and hands, lastly sucking every single one of his fingers.

Irene turned her attention to Jack's primary physical attribute. For the first time since she said "I do" to my daddy, my mommy held another man's penis. Surprisingly, Jack's cock was only average in size, not small, but not large at all. 

"I guess it's not the tool, but how skillfully you use it," she thought to herself. She beheld his six inches as he grinned at her. She closed her eyes, kissed the crown of his penis, flicked it with the tip of her tongue, and kissed it again. She liked the taste of his cock, a hint of salt and musk. 

She sniffed his hair-covered crotch, his testicles, and his inner thighs before commencing to lick his dick till it dripped with her saliva and her sweat, now trickling down her forehead to her cheeks and spilling onto the President's private parts. 

Ready to take Jack for a slow ride to pleasure land, Irene took his phallus in her mouth and began to suck on it with her jaw grinding and her tongue tittering. Jack put both hands behind Sweetie Irene's head and began to swivel his hips as she blew him, unashamedly playing with her molten pussy, using both hands. 

Long moments passed until Jack stiffened, wiggled, and erupted a cascade of seminal fluid through my mother's lips, down her throat, and into her gullet. Jack's issue bubbled, foamed, and sloshed in Irene's mouth and dribbled on her chin. 

Jack leaned over and kissed Irene's sticky lips. "Come sleep with me," he said sweetly. As Irene slipped between the sheets, the Prez told her, "I'll get a rubber."

"You don't hafta," she said. "I'm on the pill." Then she spoke almost plaintively. "I want you to fill me up inside." 

John Fitzgerald Kennedy wrapped Ronnie Corbett's erstwhile faithful wife in his arms and they held a long kiss, Irene rolling in pleasure, enjoying the taste of his breath—a hint of whiskey and telltale cigar, and altogether tantalizing. Still kissing, Jack fondled and massaged Irene's baubles, pinching her overly large nipples to razor-sharp erection. Throughout their extended embrace, Irene unconsciously opened and closed her legs, and she felt her vulva pulsing in a gently undulating orgasm.

The virginal Catholic schoolgirl transformed into a sultry Mediterranean temptress. She begged, "Please, fuck me, Mister President." 

Jack slid over and climbed on top of her, his cock like a cobra coiled and ready to strike. He entered her cavernous vagina and she squeezed his penis between her labia. He rocked, rolled, and humped her pussy for fifteen minutes till he came at last. 

Irene's cunt was swollen, sore, and full of creamy semen when Jack rolled off her. Irene immediately slithered beneath the covers and went down on him again. She ate up a quick spurt and found him still hard enough to re-enter her swampy cunt. 

Irene was covered in perspiration from head to foot as Jack finished fucking my mom's twat the second time. Her hair was matted and wet as a floor mop. Jack laughed at her and kissed her sweaty face. She wanted to tell Jack she loved him, but dared not say it, though she suspected he knew she did. A lot of women did—including the First Lady. 

Once more, while Jack lay in repose, Irene gave his dick a thorough oral working over. When she swallowed her third dose of presidential ejaculate, she didn't expect him to pop up and want to screw again. Yet that is exactly what happened. Jack made Irene offer her buttocks and squirted his staff in her tiny anus. She squealed loud enough to wake us kids, but we thought nothing of it. Ronnie was out cold. 

Ronnie had never popped his cork with her more than twice on a given night. Yet Irene marveled that President JFK had put it to her half a dozen times and was again ready to enter her cunt from behind, his poker poised like a Nike missile on the launch pad. 

Jack drilled, filled, and stretched out Irene's lotus blossom for a full five minutes before depositing his spunk. She screamed, laughed, cried, gasped, and shouted blasphemous obscenities in the midst of the most raucous fucking she ever experienced.

Outside their window, pairs of Secret Service, local police, and state troopers exchanged conversation, coffee in styrofoam cups, and donuts under the streetlights. Irene figured Jack usually enjoyed gangs of girls on his days and nights of play. That meant my mother was a one-woman gang and the notion made her flush with pride. 

In a surprising moment of tenderness, Jack sang softly: 

"See the pyramids along the Nile/Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle/Just remember, darling, all the while/You belong to me." 

His tenor vocal was positively beautiful, somewhere between Tony Bennett and Johnny Hartman. 

"I like Patti Page," Irene stated.

"Jo Stafford's version is stronger," Jack commented.

Simultaneously exhausted and fulfilled, resting alongside the most famous man on earth, expecting to drift off to sleep with him. Instead, he surprised her with a generous display of affection, going down to her soupy crucible and eating her out. Irene had thought he eschewed pussy licking, but Jack proved her wrong. 

She came in waves as he planted his thumb in her bung hole and two fingers in her Venus while twirling her little man in a boat with his tongue. The clock read two o'clock when Jack started to snore and Irene bade him farewell with a kiss and sneaked back into the room she shared with Ronnie.

A frenzy of activity began at six in the morning and ended at seven, when the President departed, quipping to my father, "I've forgotten how to drive. I haven't gotten behind the wheel since the inauguration. The Secret Service won't let me." 

Although I don't remember it at all, Jack Kennedy patted me and my sister on the head, shook my father's hand, and kissed my mother on the cheek. Little did I know my mom wanted to suck his tongue and more. Then he was gone.

Six months earlier, the President faced down the Soviets over nukes in Cuba. A month after his visit, the President sent diplomats to Moscow to sign the first nuclear test ban treaty. Two months later, the President introduced the Civil Rights Bill and said, "Race has no place in American society." Three months later, Jack and Jackie's new baby died shortly after birth. Six months later, a misfit with a carbine fired three bullets from a tenth floor window and blew the President's brains out. 

"Everybody cried," Irene said.

Her three granddaughters were stunned in silent awe at my mother's erotic story. My young ladies moved from disbelief to mortification to wonder at Sweetie's unexpected tale.

"Sweetie, you really slept with the President?" Kristen, the first born grandkid was a human lie detector.

"Isn't it funny?" Irene commented. "People say sleepin' together. We didn't do much sleepin'!" she laughed and the girls joined in, albeit tentatively.

"For fifty years, you never told anybody?" asked Tara.

"Who could I tell? Your grandpa would go crazy and get mad and leave me. Your daddy would just start cryin'. You know how emotional he is. I knew you girls would understand. You're all over eighteen and things are different nowadays."

"What about your lady friends?" Meghan inquired.

"In them days, they'd shun me and call me a whore," she said, adding with a twinkle in her eye, "and wishin' it was them he got in bed with."

"Sweetie, you're the most awesome grandmother in the world," pronounced Kristen and all three of my girls surrounded her for a group hug.




Come-A-Lot



In the present moment, my wife Vera and I came home, escorted by my dad, Ronnie, who will turn eighty next year.

"Hey, good lookin', what's cookin'?" he asked light-heartedly.

"Homemade spaghetti and sauce," Sweetie answered. "And rememberin' a time called Camelot." 

I noticed a faraway look in Sweetie Irene's eyes and caught her wiping away a little tear.

THE END



Come Again



She opened the door quietly and entered the room. She knew he wasn't really expecting her. Even though they had made arrangements to meet at the hotel while he was in town for business, at the last minute she had told him she felt strange meeting him when they had only ever talked online. He said he'd leave her name at the desk so she could pick up the spare card key, just in case she changed her mind. But she didn't think she would.

Talked online? She thought. What they did online might have started as talk, but it had grown into something more....love?? Maybe. Some might call it obsession. But whatever it was, their meetings online had became hot and sexy. The photos they exchanged and the words they typed to each other became as real to her as any other relationship she had been in. They knew each other so well. She knew just what to say to him to make him moan, and he knew the right words to make her wet and wanting.

In the end she couldn't resist coming. The thought of meeting him, of really touching him, was too tempting to resist. She had seen his photos....his dark hair and skin and his cheeky smile attracted her, as did the photos he had sent her of his beautiful cock. She knew he wanted her, and she wanted him as well. She was already wet at the thought of being close to him, of feeling his chest hair brush against her nipples, his cock inside her.



As she walked in to the room, she saw that he was at his laptop. She expected that. He was probably looking for her. She could see his reflection in the screen and he looked sad.

He hadn't heard her come in, hadn't seen her yet. She felt no awkwardness or hesitation. Once she decided to come, there was no turning back. This was him after all, so there was no reason to be nervous, because he already knew everything about her.

Quietly, she removed her blouse and skirt, leaving just the matching hot pink thong panties and low-cut bra, with her thigh-high stockings and suspender belt. The fabric was so transparent you could see her nipples and the stain of her pussy juices. She walked up softly behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest, one hand finding a nipple through his shirt.

"Hi babe," she whispered. "Sorry I'm late."

He didn't say anything, he looked over his shoulder, smiling when he saw her and reached to pull her toward him for a kiss. Standing, he deepened the kiss, his tongue mating with hers as they simply stood and held each other. Their kiss was just as she had imagined. She felt like she had come home.

He lifted his head, still smiling. " I'm glad you changed your mind" he said.

Taking her hand he led her slowly to the bed. Hungrily he kissed her again before pushing her down onto the bed and laying beside her.

"There's still time to back out babe" he whispered.

She reached over and cupped his cock through his jeans, gently squeezing.

"I guess that's a no, then," he laughed.

He let his hand trail over the naked skin of her stomach, up to her barely covered breasts. He pinched a nipple and leaned over to lick it through the cloth, taking it into his hot mouth and sucking. She moaned, her body rising from the bed, urging him closer. He reached and opened the clasp of her bra, his mouth finding her naked nipple and biting gently. She pushed him onto his back, straddling him. She could feel his hard cock between her thighs and she moaned. Reaching down she pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, her breasts rubbing on his chest hair as she leaned forward. Moaning again, she rubbed back and forth, her nipples hard as pebbles.

Desperate to be closer to her, he flipped her onto her back and settled between her thighs. His cock pressed hard against her wet pussy, but the fabric of his jeans kept them apart. Their kisses were heated now, their hands exploring each others bodies, his fingers pinching her nipples, her hands on his butt holding him to her, grinding up against him. He rolled away and began to remove his pants, and she sat and watched. Her pussy grew even wetter as he revealed his boxer shorts and then his beautiful cock.

He wanted to be inside her now, but she had other ideas. She took his cock in her hand and stroked him, smiling as he grew harder. She urged him to lie down and she knelt beside him, a shy look on her face. Keeping eye contact with him, she leaned forward and licked the head of his cock. His hips jerked from the bed, wanting more, but she was in control now. She stroked his cock while her tongue licked down the length of it, sucking one of his balls into her mouth. He was harder now and a tiny drop glistened on the head of his cock.

He smiled at her, his body shaking from need. He knew she loved that little drop and he waited for her to taste it. She returned his smile and slowly licked his cock, her tongue circling the head, she licked her lips and then she took all of him into her mouth. His hips jerked as she sucked him into her, her mouth hot and wet. He was moaning now, wanting to cum, but she held him back. She wanted him inside her when he came this first time.

"My turn," he whispered to her as he pulled away.

He rolled her onto her back and took his place above her. He kissed her, tasting himself on her lips, then moved down her body, tasting her breasts, her hard nipples begging for his touch. His mouth skimmed her stomach, his tongue finding her bellybutton and lingering. Moving down he settled between her thighs. He smiled up at her. Her pussy was still covered by the thin layer of fabric, but he put his mouth to it and sucked, tasting her juices and feeling her heat. Her hands tangled in his hair as he sucked at her. She moaned, her hips rising from the bed.

Impatient to really taste her, he tore the thin strip of cloth from her and parted her pussy lips with his fingers. His tongue flicked out to tease her clit and taste her juices. He eased one finger into her, then another, all the while his tongue was busy licking at her. His mouth settled on her, sucking her clit onto his heat. She came hard, her pussy clenching on his fingers as they stroked inside her.

He moved up her body, his mouth glistening with her juices, and kissed her deeply. She tasted herself on his lips and smiled. His cock was hard against her belly and she wanted him inside her.

"Now," she moaned. "Fuck me now."

He moved above her and entered her slowly. Too slowly, she thought, she wanted him hard and fast. She lifted her hips and he surged into her. She almost screamed at the sensation of having him inside her, after all the months of wanting and fantasizing. He moved, slowly at first, but then faster and harder, pounding into her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and closed her eyes, moving with him, her lips on his neck, her mouth biting his shoulder.

The sweat poured from them as they moved together. He pounded into her over and over, harder and faster until they were both gasping for air. Then he stopped, forcing her to look at him.

"Cum with me babe" he moaned.

Finally, looking into her eyes he moved again, plunging into her over and over until he came, his hips jerking as he spurted into her, his shout and the look on his face pushing her over the edge as she came again, her pussy milking his cock. Still looking into her eyes, he leaned down and gently kissed her lips.

He let his weight fall onto her as she wrapped him in her arms. Together they rested, getting their breath back. He rolled to the side laying next to her, stroking her face and her hair. Her hand rested on his heart, feeling it's rapid beat.

"Aren't you glad you came?" he asked.

"I am" she replied, "and I intend to cum again."



Come Again?



If there was ever any question as to who put the "fire" into fiery redhead, her name was Christie.

There is a funny bit of truth to the first time that I met Christie. I was at a bar and grill with some friends of mine when I saw her friend Sandra. Sandra was a tall, but typical California blonde. She laughed with a gaping smile. Her eyes were a lighter shade of brown. She was thin with well purchased and installed tits. She was a mark and she was going to be mine. That is, Sandra was going to be mine until Christie spun around in her chair.

I left my table of friends and made way to Christie. I had a few drinks under my belt, so my approach was ill planned and not very thoughtful. I explained to Christie that I had seen her friend from across the bar and had planned to hit on Sandra. However, when I saw the beauty that was Christie, I knew that my aim was off and I had to go for red over blonde. For whatever reason, Christie bit the bait.

Months later, Christie and I had tried nearly every sexual deed that I thought she was willing to do. I knew that she was not prude being that I became privy to the knowledge that she had lived in a sensual lesbian relationship. I did expect that she was somewhat reserved in her willingness. It may have been that our relationship was still in its infancy and it may have been my overbearing sex drive, but Christie seemed to prefer the missionary position unless I directed otherwise. There was only one time that she offered herself to me in another position. It was the night that I knew she would be up for some fun.

Christie was a wonderfully slender five feet six inches tall. Her naturally wavy hair framed her face in a way that accentuated her high cheek bones and full lips. Her green eyes set in contrast to her fair skin and she had just the perfect amount of light freckling on her nose. Christie's long, thin neck constantly begged to be kissed and teased, and it set a perfect path to her large, well-rounded breast. Her tits were a gorgeous sight to behold and her nipples hardened at the lightest of touches. Her stomach was cut in a way that created a perfect V leading to her pink center. Her pussy, for lack of better phrase, was... delicious. All of which was set atop thin, but muscular legs that often found away to wrap themselves around my head.

Missionary clearly was not on Christie's mind on a certain Saturday after a night on the town. We left the bar and made it back to my apartment. I lived alone, so there was not an inch of my place where we had not fucked. We, in the primitive and carnal sense, fucked for lack of love in our earliest days together. That Saturday was not making out to be any different.

We were barely through the front entrance of my place when she peeled out of her top. I watched, standing still behind her, as she walked into the living room. I grinned with the newly found knowledge that she was wearing her sexiest lingerie. I could see the length of her red, lace teddy as she dropped her shirt to the floor. My dick hardened immediately. In past conversations, she had complained about the discomforts of lingerie, but she apparently set that aside for the evening in the interest of being sexy.

Sexy she was. I watched intently as her hips appeared under the high hip line of the teddy. The red lace disappeared into her ass until she bent down to slide her jeans down her thighs and off of her legs. She still had not looked back to see me. She knew I was there and she knew that she was in for a fucking.

Christie she her clothing completely by the time she reached the back of my sofa. She leaned forward and placed her elbows into the top padding. "What do you think," she asked coyly as she glanced back over her left shoulder. I had removed my shirt and pants in quick fashion and stood several feet behind her with a raging hard on. "What do you think," I answered with the same question, but held my cock in hand. We exchanged grins as I approached.

I suspect that Christie anticipated that I would simply shove my cock into her. I was tempted to do so. I wanted so badly to fuck her. I wanted to pump her until she was filled with cum. I restrained and dropped to my knees instead. My hands lay flat to the lower parts of her ass. My right thumb tugged her teddy aside and she widened her legs as the tip of my tongue found her soaked pussy. I reached as far as I could with my tongue to meet the underside of her clit then licked her full length. After several dowsing licks, I was intoxicated by her sex. Then, I pushed my tongue into with deep thrusts. I felt and tasted her become wetter as she moaned with approval.

I knew that Christie had been licked by men and women before, so I was pleased with her moans as it reassured me that I was making her feel as good as she liked. I licked her and fucked her with my tongue with more intensity than I had ever done to anyone before. It must have been that intensity that guided my next action.

I allowed my thumbs to migrate from the edges of her pussy to the insides of her ass cheeks. I spread her ass open and moved my mouth to her puckered hole. I felt her tense up with reaction to the new sensation and she lightly giggled, "What are you doing?" I could only think to ask, "Have you not ever done that before?" She explained that she had not, so I asked if it was okay. She said that she was willing to give it a try, so I returned my tongue to her ass. I did not dive right back in. I had just learned that she had never before had her asshole licked, so I flicked and teased at first. I licked in tight circles before attempting to push my tongue into the rim of her ass.

Her asshole was so tight and relentlessly un-giving that I realized something special. "Have you ever been fucked in the ass before?" I rose up just enough to see up the length of her back and to her head as she buried her face into the top of the sofa. I thought it cute how embarrassed she became at the breach of the subject. I remember smiling from ear to ear as I stood up behind her. "You didn't answer the question," I said coyly with my right middle finger circling in the same pattern my tongue had done around Christie's virgin ass. Her asshole was still slightly wet with spit as I pushed the tip of my finger into her. She clenched immediately and finally answered, "No." I loved the idea of being the first to bury my cock into her ass, so I slowly pushed my middle finger into the knuckle. I could feel her asshole pulsating with tension and a lack of ease. "Can I fuck you in the ass tonight?" I asked. I figured that the worst she could say was no and I would still be able to dump my load into her luscious pussy.

"MMM," she moaned with my finger in her ass. I could feel that she still was not relaxing to my finger and I knew the answer before she gave it. "Not tonight, Baby. I think I need to get used to it before we try it." I appreciated her desire to restrain from extreme pain in her first experience, so I did not push the issue. I just continued to push and pull my finger in and out of her virgin ass.

My hard on was too much to handle. My cock throbbed with the anticipation of fucking her, so I grabbed it with my left hand and guided the tip to her pussy. She was soaked, so I entered her without any resistance. The full shaft of my cock buried into her in a single motion. The position, standing behind her with my cock in to the hilt and my finger still inside her ass made for a funny angle that stressed my wrist. It was nearly painful for my arm, but I dare not remove my hand. Instead, I began to pump in and out of her slowly.

Christie was a wonderful sight. I looked down as her wavy her bounced over the lace back of her teddy. The thong portion of the lingerie began to slide back into position, so I used my left hand to move it aside completely. Suddenly, I felt her asshole open up. She finally relaxed to the sensation of penetration, so I took it upon myself to shove in my ring finger as well. She tensed back up in response to the second finger, but then I realized that she was cumming. Her pussy clenched and released against the edges of my cock and I nearly came with her.

She moaned and pleaded, "Fuck me. Fuck me." She was so sexy in the raunchiness of the moment and I could not help, but pull my fingers out of her ass and grab onto her hip. I jolted forward and pounded into her. My hips bounced off her ass as I pumped and she continued to cum. I slammed and fucked her until her breathing returned to normal and her shivers subsided.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed, "That ass thing was awesome." She was quick to point out that she still did not want me to fuck her in the ass that night, but I had opened her mind to it.

I don't know what came over me, but it seemed like the right time to ask. "How kinky are you feeling tonight?"

My hard cock was still inside her as far as it would go, so that might have been the cause of her answer. "What did you have in mind," she questioned with a moan.

With that, I pulled my hips back and withdrew from her pussy. She whimpered a little in full protest for pulling out of her. I answered with, "Go to the bedroom," and she complied with my request.

I followed behind her with just enough distance to watch her ass sway from side to side. Her thighs crossed over the other as she walked like she had cum running down her legs. I could not wait to get her on the bed, but I had something different in mind.

We reached the bedroom and she stood at the side of the bed. "What did you have in mind?" She repeated the unanswered question. I simply responded with, "Do you trust me?"

That is one of the most awkward questions that one nude person can ask another, but she answered plainly. "Yes." That was all that I needed to hear. I kissed her with a long and smooth kiss and turned away from her. She sat on the edge of the bed as I walked to my closet. "What are you looking for?" she questioned as I dug around in the bottom of my closet.

Her question was answered when I turned back around. "What the hell is that?" she asked as the black leather straps dangled from my fist that clenched a seven inch dildo. "It's a... uh..." Had I overestimated her kinkiness? "a strap on."

"What do you need a strap on for?" she asked either ignorantly or naively.

I answered her query with a nervous laugh, "It's not for me... it's for you..."

There was a long pause before the kinky request registered with her. "You want me to put that on?" There was an appropriate amount of surprise in her voice as I declared, "If I can't fuck you in the ass, can you fuck me in mine?" Her jaw dropped open just before she smiled a massive smile and a new light found her eyes.

"I never would have guessed..." she started. "Are you gay?" she questioned. I didn't want to kill the mood with explaining an exchange of power rather than homosexuality, so I explained that it was simply a fetish. She had once told me that her fetish was mid-thigh boots, so I figured that she would understand; and she did.

Christie stood up from the bed and took a step toward me. She reached out to the apparatus and took it from my hand. She looked at it, then at me and gave me a long kiss. I felt her free hand reach down and wrap around my still hard cock. She could feel how much the thought of her fucking me turned me on, and that may have been what helped her in her decision.

"How does this thing work?" she puzzled as she pulled away from the kiss and held out the tangled strap on. I explained that she just needed to put it on like a pair of panties then tighten the straps. I explained it as I helped her untangle the harness and step into the straps. She and I tugged the harness up over her thighs and to her hips. She tightened one side as I tightened the other. It was on.

I looked down over the course of her body. The black leather stood out against her white skin. "How does it feel?" I asked her to check on her comfort level. Her reply was interesting and a little funny as she said, "So this is what it's like to have a dick." She and I laughed a little before continuing to kiss.

"So, should I fuck you from behind?" she asked and I was a little more turned on in the fact that she seemed to be getting into it. "Yes."

I crawled onto the bed and stayed on all fours. I was exposed and vulnerable to her protruding, rubber cock. The bed moved as she crawled up behind me. Then, I reached to the night stand and pulled out a bottle of lube. I produced a liberal amount into my hand and reached back to rub it over my ass. My hand rubbed up and down over the entry to my ass with the hopes to provide enough wetness to be fucked.

"Put your finger in your ass," Christie commanded as she spread my ass open. "I want to see what it looks like." She was hot and I was horny. The formula was right as I pushed my middle finger into my ass the same way that I had to hers.

Christie reached past me and grabbed the lube. I dropped my head to look down between my legs. Just beneath my hard on, Christie stroked hers and coated it generously with lube.

"Baby," I paused for acknowledgement, "let me back up onto it." I wanted to avoid the initial penetration from a woman that could not feel the dildo and had no real knowledge of what it was like to be anally penetrated. She agreed and I pulled my finger out of my ass.

Christie lined the tip of her cock up with the opening of my ass and I began to push back lightly. I sucked air in deeply as I tried to relax. It had been a long while since my former girlfriend had fucked me, so I was out of practice. The head of the dildo popped into me roughly and I bounced away from Christie. I could feel my ass clinching and loosening before I relaxed again. "Are you okay," she questioned with concern. I answered by pushing back onto her again. 

This time, the head went in smoothly. My asshole gave way to the fleshy dong and I pushed back to her until it disappeared into my ass. I felt Christie's hips make first contact with my ass and I paused.

"Fuck me."

Christie did not have to be asked more than once. She grabbed tightly to my hips and pushed forward. I felt her pull lightly at the harness with her body and push into me again. She fucked me in short, choppy motions. She was clumsy with her new cock and she realized it after only a few minutes of fucking me.

"I can't do this," she stammered, but was met with my begging. "Please don't stop. I'm going to cum so hard."

"I don't want to stop, baby. I just can't do doggy. You are too tall. Can you lie down?"

I slowly pulled off of her and allowed my knees to slide downward until I was lying flat on my stomach. My hard on pressed into the mattress and nearly made me cum. Christie then began to lie on my back. I reached back to guide her cock back to my hole and it found its mark in a single slide inward.

Christie lay with her body weight pinning me to the bed. I felt her hands slide under my chest and hook under the fronts of my shoulders. I could feel her hard nipples poking me in the back as her knees wedged between mine. Then, she returned to pumping me. "How does that feel?" she questioned as I moaned.

I couldn't help myself. I whimpered and moaned as my cock pushed into the mattress.

"Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me! Oh fuck! I'm cumming!"

My moans-turned-screams motivated Christie to fuck me even harder until my cock rubbed itself into the sheets and forced my orgasm until I ran dry.

Christie kept humping my ass until my orgasm subsided and I asked her to stop. I left her cock in my only for a moment as I reveled in the feeling of her heaving chest pressed into my back. We both marked how awesome that was and Christie lifted herself from me to pull the dildo out of my well stretched asshole. We both chuckled a little in the afterglow of a good fuck and I was relieved that Christie was not completely put off by my kinkiness. We kissed deeply and I helped her out of the harness. Then, with our exhausted bodies entwined, we fell asleep at my declaration that next time would be her turn.



Come Again?



Even though you've been waiting for me to arrive the sound of the doorbell startles you. The memories of our late night telephone calls and the promise of what could be to come have distracted you and the doorbell triggers a surge of anticipation deep in your gut.

I'm standing on the other side of the door feeling my belly tighten. I've been in an insane state of arousal for days. Now that we are only seconds away for meeting face to face a flush rises to my neck and cheeks.

The door opens and there you stand, smiling at me. I only have a hazy sense of the rest of you; I'm lost in your eyes, locked on mine.

You reach out and take my hand; the first touch sends a little electric thrill through you. You pull me into your home. My hand is warm in yours. 

I reach up and place my palm on your cheek. We haven't spoken yet but there's no rush; we've said all that needs to be already. 

It's too much. You lean down and gather me into you with your other arm, not willing to let go of my hand. My palm leaves your face and circles your neck as you pull me towards you. We hold each other close, sharing air, still locked on each other's eyes. 

I can't breathe. I close my eyes first and tilt my mouth up to yours, knowing already that your lips will be soft. The first kiss makes me sigh; the second makes me moan. Your lips change shape and I can feel you smiling. 

You release me long enough to pull me further into the room and close the door behind me.

********

We've been talking for what seems like a few minutes but has already been hours. We've shifted position on the couch many times. Sometimes we sit facing each other and holding hands or I've leaned back against you and you've held me from behind. We touch constantly, hands, fingers, lips, stroking, caressing, kissing. Once, when you leaned over to pick something up and your hand brushed my breast I lost my train of thought and you chuckled. Your rich, sexy chuckle; it made it even harder to remember what I had been saying.

It doesn't matter what I was saying now; I reach over, take your coffee cup and set it down. It's time. I pull you to your feet. And step back. 

You look at me and smile. You've thought about this moment and now it's here. You reach up and unbutton your shirt, showing me a chest I've seen in pictures and wanted to touch for a long, long time. You leave your shirt on and unsnap your jeans then pull the zipper down. 

I don't know where to look. Your hands? Your eyes? Your body? As your jeans slide to the floor my gaze shifts to your hands and to what you are about to show me. 

Your breath is shallow and you hope that when you drop your shorts I still have that look of delight in my eyes. Your shorts join your jeans on the floor and you step out of them. 

I'm riveted by your cock and once again I'm reminded of how inadequate photographs can be. You are beautiful. I want to touch and reach out but you give me a little laugh and step back, just out of reach.

You take your cock in one hand and slowly start circling the head. I can see the drop of cum at the tip. Oh! I want to taste! Your thumb lazily circles round and round; you step back and sit back on the couch in front of me. 

I sink down to the floor at your knees. It's everything I can do not to touch you but I know the rules of engagement for this time, the first time. Instead I slip one hand underneath my sweater and almost absent-mindedly play with a nipple, wishing my hands were on your cock and yours on my breasts. 

The rhythm of your hand is faster now. You breathe deeply through your nose but a small moan escapes anyway. Or was it me who made that primal sound? My hands are cupping my breasts now, pinching my nipples and I'm squirming with desire as I kneel in front of you, my mouth only inches from your cock.

Faster, your hand is stroking your cock faster. I want to take you in my mouth so much, I want to taste you, feel you cum down my throat. 

And then you lean back, give a groan and you cum all over my chest, my neck...I watch you shudder as you pant to catch your breathe and you hand slowly stops its slippery journey along your shaft.

I push you back onto the couch and stretch my body over yours. Finally, I can touch you, smell you, taste you, feel you under my hands. We lie still for a while. 

After a bit, the feeling of my body settling on yours arouses you and you shift your hips underneath me. Your cock is hard and you can feel it trapped beneath my own hips. I clench my ass and push down; you sigh and throw one leg over mine, pinning me to you. 

I'm not going anywhere. I lower my face to yours and we kiss, a long, slow kiss that starts at our lips and travels down, past my neck and hardening my nipples. Down through my belly and landing with a warmth between my legs. I can feel your cock and again I move my hips to rub up against you. 

Your hand comes up between us and you slide your fingers underneath my sweater. You can feel my nipples hard against my bra. You reach up and free one breast and hold me in your hand, feeling the weight and softness. Your other hand rests on the back of my head, playing with my hair. Our tongues dance and probe; our hips continue to roll against each other, trapping your cock and my heat between them.

********* 

Your bed is firm beneath me. My face is down and I'm moaning into your pillow. You think about how you'll smell my scent on that pillow later, after I'm gone. And then your mind comes back to the present as you feel the wave of an orgasm building. Your cock is buried deep in my pussy and your hips are pounding a steady rhythm into my ass. You can see the love bites you've left and smile, knowing that I will also have something to remember you by after we're apart. 

Every inch of my skin is tingling. My breasts are tender and my nipples so hard they are begging to be taken into your mouth again. The feeling of the sheets rubbing against them is almost more than I can bear but the feeling of your cock thrusting into me, harder and harder, over and over, overrules any other sensation. I can hear your breathing getting more ragged as you urge me on.

"Come on baby," your hoarse voice urges me. You know that you are almost there once again. The sweat is beading on your forehead and chest. It's been a wild ride. Suddenly you stop and I gasp as your cock leaves me empty. You fall onto your back and pull me on top. 

Now it's my turn to tell you what's deep within me. 

"Fill me with your cock," I whisper. Then I moan as you do. The change in position has made me tight around you in a new way as I feel your shaft sliding up into me. I pull up, almost letting you go, then come down on you hard, leaving you gasping. Up, almost out, and down.

"Oh, beautiful baby, don't tease", you gasp, but I don't stop, knowing how much you like it. My breasts swing in front of you and I lower myself so that you can take me into your mouth. When I feel you teeth come down gently on my nipple I scream a little and then give up every bit of control I had over my hips and your cock. I arch my back and ride you, hard. 

****** 

Sex is good and this is great. We lie together, hot and sweaty and tired. You kiss my face and I rub your chest, your arms, and your belly. I curl around you and think, "When can I come again?"



Come Again & Again



Disclaimer: This is an Adult Story. If you are not of age in your country, or if it is against the law for you to read this story, please don't read this. Any comments or constructive criticism are welcome. John Antony

Krishna found her sitting at his door steps in drugged state. He didn't know who she was or how she came there in the late night hours. She couldn't stand or talk properly. He tried to talk to her. But his words didn't reach her. She stared at a far away point above his head. He couldn't let her sit there alone at such late hour. With great effort he took her inside his house. She seemed very sleepy. He made her lie down on his bed.

She was beautiful and sexy. Her first two buttons of her blouse were undone showing the rise of her creamy bountiful breasts. Her skirt was short enough to show the soft and flawless thighs. He put a blanket on her to continue his self control. He sat on a chair near the bed and watched her sleep like child innocently. Her body and facial expression at the time were really in contrast. While her body showed the glory of well blossomed adult, her face showed the child's innocence. He wondered who she was. He closed his eyes. 

He didn't know how long he slept. When he opened his eyes she was sitting on the bed. Her eyes were fixed on him thoughtfully. She was sober and in control of herself. 

He smiled. "How do you feel now?"

"Better. Thank you, gentleman"

"My name is Krishna" he said. 

"I'm Deepa" she said.

He waited expecting her to explain. 

"I was on my way to the medical shop in the next street. I wanted to buy rat poison for committing suicide." 

"You are already consuming poison in small doses" He pointed her drug addiction. There was a trace of anger in his voice. That amused her.

"I want a final dose large enough to make me sleep permanently"

"You are too young to realize what life is or to end it."

Slowly she told him about her life-about how she lost her mother in her childhood, about her workaholic father who was ready to give her everything except his time and love, about the man whom she loved, about how he ditched her, about how her friend introduced her to drugs. She found herself talking about things she had thought she would never reveal to anyone. 

"This life seemed very empty. There was nothing to hope for or to live for. This drudgery was too much for me to bear. To escape from everything there seemed only one way- death. I wanted to die..."

He listened patiently without interfering her. He felt pity for her. She liked him very much. She liked the way he listened with care and understanding. She found him attractive and good looking. 

"You are really a gentleman, Krishna. In your place, any other person would have exploited the situation"

He smiled. She found his smile very charming. 

She said jokingly, "Or, did you find me not attractive?"

He smiled again. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen"

"Then why?" she wanted to know. 

"I didn't want to take advantage of your helpless condition, Deepa. Sex is a beautiful experience only if both persons are willingly and loving in the act. If one person is not willing or in absence of senses, then it will be struggle between an animal and a victim"

Every minute he was rising in her mind's scale. She really loved him. "Suppose I am willing, will you kiss me" she teased. She had a mischievous glint in her lovely eyes. 

"Are you sure?" he asked. 

"I'm damn sure" she said.

Next minute, she was in his arms. He kissed her deeply. He worked his way down her neck, licking and biting lightly, feeling her squirm and enjoying her reaction. He unbuttoned her blouse slowly. He reached her cleavage, covered by a black lacy bra, and he looked up at her. She knew what he wanted, and she obliged, unhooking the bra and it released the bountiful mounds inside. 

A small moan emanated from his throat as he cupped her firm boobs in his hands and swiftly latched his mouth onto one dark pink nipple. He suckled and pulled at her tits with his lips. She moaned with excitement. At her sound, he looked up at her, nipple still between his lips, and grinned. She could watch him roll the point between his teeth and felt his tongue flickering ever so quickly across the very tip. And he applied just that much pressures with his fingers to her other nipple. Then his hands began to pull, push and knead her breasts. She could feel the hardness of his cock against her bottom, even through his jeans, and she groaned at the feeling.

She couldn't stand the wonderful feelings emanating from her chest region. She couldn't believe how sensitive her nipples and areolas were just from his touch. When he pushed her tits together, turned the nipples inwards and rubbed them against each other, she thought her boobs would explode with the pleasure. He pulled away from her, and stood up, stripping his clothes off. She liked what she saw. He was handsomely made and his cock was long and meaty. After she had taken stock of him she also undressed.  

Her body was marvelous. Beauty was written on her every limb. Admiring her beauty he gently pushed her down on the bed and settled his body down between her bent legs. They kissed for a long time, and then he began to kiss his way down to her hidden treasures. She moaned when she heard his indrawn breath as he took in the sight of her hot pink pussy. 

Suddenly, he lunged forward and buried his face in her. He first ground his entire face in her wetness, smearing it over his cheeks and chin, nose and mouth. Then he began slowly tracing up and down the outside of her inner lips with his tongue. They were so thick and bright pink that he couldn't control himself and he sucked one into his mouth and pulled on it with his teeth. When he bit her pussy lips, she bucked into an orgasm. The sharp sting of his teeth contrasted with the soft caress of his tongue and the contrast was enough to send her over the edge yet again. She panted as she watched his head bobbing back and forth between her thighs. 

His eyes rose to her face as he felt her calm down from her climax. He met her gaze as he used his fingers to pull her slippery lips apart and then he stroked his tongue up and down the sides of her clit. She began to pant again and as he felt her body tighten in another climax, he sucked the tiny pearl into his mouth and suckled on it like he had suckled at her nipples. The suction was incredible and she wanted him to stay there forever.

Finally her body relaxed and he released her pearl from his mouth. He once again gently licked up and down, around and around her entire pussy. Her juices were flowing quickly, and she heard him swallowing several times, which sent shudders through her body at the thought. She became a slave to her passions and his talents. Her whole body was on fire.

He once again bent his head to her treasure spot and began to play with his tongue and fingers. She didn't know which sensation to pay attention to more. His mouth felt so excellent. But his fingers felt incredible. Her little sexy moans had erupted into full fledged screams. 

"Is your cock equally good?"

He laughed. "Judge yourself." 

He crawled up on top of her and kissed her letting his hard cock pulsing against her pussy. She shifted slightly, and the head pushed right up against her slit. "I want you in me" she said.

He slid his joy stick into her still hot cunt. He thrust back and forth, getting a nice rhythm going, and she thrust her hips up at him to take him deeper inside her. Her juices flowed ever faster, coating him as they fucked. He grunted each time he hit bottom and she made little noises of her own. As they picked up speed, she encouraged him. 

"Harder....Faster..." 

She reached down and cupped his balls. They were so full, and she couldn't wait to feel him explode inside her burning pussy. She massaged them and she felt them tighten. She was getting closer to her own climax and she wanted to come with him. She pushed back onto him. 

Finally, she felt him thrust even faster and she knew it was time. Her cunt muscles clenched in orgasm around him and milked the sperm from his prick. He shot four, five, six times into her hot grasping pussy, and she felt every pulse against her clit as she came on him. 

She collapsed on the bed, his cock still inside her, and whispered into his ear how amazing it was. She felt very happy and safe in his arms. Even the drugs couldn't ever bring her that much joy. 

She said solemnly, "Thank you, Krishna"

"For what?"

"For everything. Above all for letting me to know that people like you exist in the world." He tenderly kissed her on lips.

When it was time to leave, she asked eagerly "Shall I come again?" 

He flashed his charming smile and said with love, "Please keep on coming, dear."



Come and Get It - Get It and Cum



Amazing how you can want someone, how you can ache for them, how you can burn for them inside, burn for them inside like you have never burned for anyone or anything before, how you can hope beyond hope that the swirling dreams that leap forth and grow and dance vibrantly inside your throbbing head might one day come alive - and yet you have never even seen them; you don't even know them.

But wait... you do SEE them, and you do KNOW them.

How can this be. What would the neighbors think. 

Who fucking cares.

This is just one paradox we experience together. One of many more to cum. Cum for me. Do you want my cum. Cum on my fucking cock. Do you shiver when I tell you that my cum boils for you, that I need to see my sperm drip from the walls of your grasping pink cunt. That I would slap and suck that pussy as my hot cum drips from it. Like a wild dog. That I wouldn't give a damn.

Yes. You shiver.

Just seeing these white-hot words lights the fuse again.

Doesn't it, slut.

And it burns brighter this time.

Now you dream about how it could be between us, don't you, slut - and I dream the same dream. Not just sexually. You dream about more, about how it could REALLY be between us, about what the future might bring... just as I do.

And the power of the two dreamers is infinite. And I explained why and how that is so, how the two dreamers who vibrate with the same frequency can create an explosion of consciousness between them, how they can expand and burst forth upon brand-new worlds, upon higher plateaus of awareness...

You seek what I seek. 

Infinite potential. Infinite understanding. Infinite power.

Let me tell you now how I burn for your sex.

I can see you there, slut, in the semi-darkness of a moonlit autumn night... as the curtains billow and the rain falls and your aching need is like the irreversible pull of the sea's in-breath... as I gorge on your essence, while you lay there, shaking, your nipples hard like diamonds, your supple legs spread wide, as you cup them with your sweat-slicked palms from underneath... supporting them... pushing them towards me to meet my thrusting tongue... my face coated with the sweet liquid that flows from your wet pink fuckhole, like hot, bubbling wine...

I memorize what the flooding moonlight brings to me as I feed... the moon feeds, and so do I... the way your toes curl, the femininity of your feet and calves, the cut silhouette of your tan and supple legs... your pink clit throbbing as I chew and suck and drool and finger your asshole... I see the clench of your jaw, slut, as you come closer to orgasm... the pupils of your eyes like mirrors as I elevate you to that vibratory state you seek... I feel my mouth and tongue sucking your wet and salty flesh, as I wallow in the scent of your grasping pussy and ass... and I feel these things now, I see these things, because I need these things now, slut, just as you need them... we dream of them at the same moment and the dream comes alive... and you want to come alive for me, don't you, bitch... you want to be my whore, you ache for the chance... you feel my unyielding intent as it pulls you to my being... as I teach you this lesson of creation, of intent, of gravity and attraction in a unified field, as you arch your back and give me what I claim, what I own, what I already possess, what I never stopped possessing... for you are mine from beyond the void, aren't you, my slut... and you laugh when I say you are my bitch, but that is what you are, that is what you want to be, that is what you have always been, and you want to be my possesion, and yet you know that ownership has nothing to do with the arrangement... because it is given and taken freely, isn't it, slut... it is understood, the same way I understand that one more shake of my head will make you cum in a way that will make you absorb this ultimate lesson deep inside your thrumming body...

You understand me, whore, as I understand you... and nothing has to be said of this understanding... because we know that this understanding comes to us even faster now, as the floodgates of infinite awareness open wide, and we experience an ever-increasing, unending stream of ceaseless, worthless dead spaces; as pointless dramas fill our lives, and the unerring hand of fate points the way out for us... as we realize that what we need is coming closer, by our intent, coming closer every single second, just as the useless moments and people and things that we once held so dearly fall away.

Would you suck my ass, baby. Would you tongue my ass and suck my balls until my cum squirted on your face. Would you lap it up hungrily. Would you take my cock inside your asshole and give me everything you are, everything you could ever be, everything you could ever imagine being as we move together as one and fill each other with the urgent breath of the gods.

Do you want me, slut. Do you want me like no other. Do you want to be my whore. Do you want to spend hours with me, days with me, alone, fucking and talking and knowing... without needing to understand why it is that we know.

I will spread your legs one day in the moonlight, you cock-craving whore. And I will tell you how my touch is the key to your ascension. And I will suck, and lick, and bite, and chew, and devour your fucking pussy and asshole. And bite your tits. And face-fuck you. And rape you. 

That's what you want isn't it. You want me to rape you.

Until you fucking understand, and scream to me that you know it.

You need it. Wanting is one thing. Needing it is another. You need to feel helpless as I take what is mine. You need to feel helpless as you are pinned down and talked to, and growled at, and fuck-raped with my hard tan cock. You need me to use you, to sperm you, to shred you, to spank your clit and shave you and suck your asshole. Don't you.

Are you my slut. Do you want this dream.

Is it a game to you. Or does it mean everything to you. Can you brush it aside on a whim. Or can you only come closer, begging for more. Do you struggle with the "yes" and the "no" of it all. Do you sense great change. Do you sense your be-cumming, as you come closer to me, and understand, and bind yourself to the very thing that will set you free. Do you fear it, and yet yield to it. Do you want it, and yet doubt it. Are you attracted to it, and yet repelled by it. Do the things I teach you that are beyond words, do they make you speechless. Will you give yourself to me completely. Unasked. Unspoken. Have you already done this. How can you fight when you are defenseless. How can you hide when you have nowhere to run. How can you avoid what surrounds you like an iron-meshed glove that coolly and impersonally and forcefully crushes your being as you are reassembled into that which you innately knew you wanted to be-cum.

Do you think of running. Do you question everything. Do you struggle with the people who are dead inside, as they set up time-consuming roadblocks, to test your being, to test your resolve, to make you struggle even harder to see the very means of escape that is right in front of your half-opened eyes. Do you see that you must lightly jump over these roadblocks. Do you know that all of this is a test. Do you understand that to beat your head against these walls would be sheer folly.

Do you ache for my sex. Do you need to be kept by me. Do you feel the IMPULSE to give me what I need as I give you what you require. Effortlessly. Do you see that this is what compels you. Do you laugh at it, and second-guess it, and yet come back for more - always more. Will you bend to my will easily, or will you play a game. Will you play a game to make me fuck your head up worse. The choice is yours. To play or not to play. To become, or to be dead inside.

You know that you are evil inside. And I know you will continue to play coy games with me, until I show you what a real game is. 

Until you yourself become the "game", as I move you around like a blind chess piece, as I play with you like a cat plays with a mouse, until I pick the perfect, timeless moment to give you what you are fucking dying for inside.

Isn't that right, cunt.

Because you want me to fuck your head up worse. 

Because you deserve it. Because you crave it.

You want me to rape you. 

You want me to rape your mind, and rebuild you, and show you what you need - in order to be cum-plete.

Fuck yes you do.