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Kansas

By: Declan Cravens



My name is Ana and I was born and raised in County Donegal, Ireland. I'm 33 now, but I was only 19 when I came to the United States. I wanted more freedom, opportunity, and the chance to be the kind of woman I wanted to be, not just a wife and mother. 

I work as a Sales Director for a major hotel chain. My hotel is in Missouri and I have to travel quite often to attend conferences and meetings held by the founder of our chain. They are informative, but boring beyond description. 

 I love to travel but seeing only the insides of airports, taxicabs, and hotel rooms has become a real stress for me. I love to explore the cities I visit and for the past five years I haven't had the time to even visit the most popular of tourist sites because of my tight time frames. I am usually in and out of the city within two days.

A little over four months ago I sat staring at another conference package from my boss thinking, 'I can't do this.' I didn't want to spend another two to three days in a city where all I saw were hotel room walls. I was burned out and ready to walk away from a job I'd been at for over 12 years.

My boss noticed my reluctance to confirm my travel arrangements and called me into his office. I did not hold back when he asked what the problem was. I told him how tired I was of traveling so much and not having any time to breathe, how I hated how rushed it was to go to these conferences for him.

For a moment I thought he would order me to go or lose my job. Imagine my surprise when he told me that those were the same reasons he hated to go to them himself. He asked me where this one was to be held and I told him Wichita, Kansas. I then asked him if he would possibly attend this one himself. He said no, but that he thought he could work something out so that I could have some time off before the conference.

I went back to my own office a little lighter on my feet than before. Some time off would be great. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time that I'd taken a vacation. It would be nice to have time to myself. I did some paperwork and helped set up a meeting room for the next day before my boss got back to me. He offered me nine days off, not including my regular weekend off, if I would agree to attend. I agreed enthusiastically.

At eight o'clock Friday night I clocked out and rushed home, eager to begin my vacation. I'd decided at some point during the week to head for Kansas on Sunday and do some exploring before the conference. I would have a whole week to see the sites, act like a tourist and just be lazy in a place where no one knew who I was. I could do and be anything, anyone. I felt free for the first time in far too long. 

I packed like a woman who was going to Maui and not Wichita, Kansas. It had been so long since I'd had the opportunity to dress like a woman and not a business person that I went a little overboard. I packed ever scrap of satin, lace, and silk that I owned. I didn't know where I'd wear them but I was determined to take them anyway. I ended up with two very large suitcases full of clothes but I didn't care what anyone would think. I was going on vacation and even if it was just Kansas, I was determined to have some fun and do whatever I pleased. 

I set out on my road trip at nine am on Sunday. The traffic was light despite the beautiful summer day, and I rolled down the windows on my car and let the summer wind blow away all the stress in my body. I took breaks whenever I pleased, ate junk food I hadn't touched in years and sang with the radio at the top of my lungs. I flirted with a trucker somewhere outside of Columbia, Missouri, blowing him kisses then laughing when he blew his horn in response. I felt like a teenager again, off on a new and exciting adventure.

I stopped at several roadside sites, reading different historical facts about Missouri and then Kansas, once I crossed the border. I'd booked a room in a smaller area near Wichita called El Dorado and it was pretty late by the time I rolled into the small bed and breakfast type place I'd found on the internet. It was a charming farmhouse and I fell in love with it on the spot. The owner was pleasant despite the hour of my arrival and she told me that there were plenty of good places still open for a meal if I was hungry. I chose a 24 hour diner and had one of the best, and probably most unhealthy, meals I'd ever eaten. Full, sleepy and happy, I returned to my room and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

The next day I left early, the owner's hearty breakfast still warm in my tummy. I drove the forty miles to Wichita and set out to explore the city and what it had to offer. It was a good sized place with all the amenities that any city would offer. I stopped in at an internet coffee house for a cup and a chance to hook up my laptop and check my email. I wish I hadn't. Ben, my boss, had sent me a message that the conference had been moved up and that I would have to attend the very next day. 

Reluctantly, I returned to my pretty little farmhouse room and repacked my bags. I didn't want to leave but the conference coordinators had rooms booked for all the attendees and it was required that you stay as part of the package. I hated deals like this, as it felt as if all control for my life was governed by strangers who would never know me. Still, I didn't know how late the conference would run as it had been cut down to one full day from two and I wouldn't want to drive the forty miles back to El Dorado late at night alone. 

I was glad I'd made that choice. Still, it bothered me that some of my precious time would be marred by the interruption of the conference. I just wasn't ready to let go of my free spirited feeling to attend some boring talks, even if it was only for one day. 

Out of spite, I wore some of Freddie's best under my severe business skirt and jacket, even wearing a garter belt and silk stockings, something I had never worn before in my life. I liked the feeling it gave me and added a higher heel than I would normally wear. I felt more in control, more free than I had at the other conferences, more like a woman and not just another worker bee. I was surprised at how sexy the feel of silk was on my thighs as I walked. I had a naughty little secret. To look at me you'd never know that under my black suit was silk lingerie in the darkest of greens. 

That little secret and the feelings it provoked actually helped me throughout the boredom of the day. It moved fast but it was still the same old junk. Projections for the upcoming year, sales fluctuations, areas that needed improvement, awards for certain employees and franchises, and of course the closing speech by the President of the corporation. He released us and a giant sigh of relief seemed to fill the room.

Several of us attending had been coming to these things together for years. I wouldn't say we were friends, but we were good acquaintances that got together for a meal and drinks at the end of every conference. Usually I make it an early night, choosing to hit the bed instead of bar hopping, but tonight I was feeling wild and decided to head out with the group for a little fun. 

We hit a popular night spot, one the desk clerk at the hotel had recommended and found a good table where we could see the people on the dance floor. The drinks were strong and expensive but good. Now, most people think that since I'm Irish I should be able to drink the biggest man under the table, but that's not the case with me. I have a low tolerance for alcohol and usually don't drink more than one pint of beer or ale in an evening out. However, that night I decided to have a margarita, something I'd wanted to try for some time. The drink hit me hard but it was too good and I finished off the rather large cocktail. 

We went from bar to bar on that block, ending up at a rather dark, loud place where the band was live and punk. You might look at me and see classical music lover, but I was raised in a place where British punk music ruled. I was enjoying the band, and another tequila drink when I noticed that somehow I'd lost my group.

Normally, I would have panicked and headed straight for the door and the first cab back to the hotel. That night, being a bit tipsy, I just shrugged and found a seat near the stage, settling in to watch the band finish it's final set. 

Another band replaced the first around midnight and they were even better than the first. There was a niggling voice at the back of my brain telling me that with the way I was dressed and with my age, I just didn't fit in but I kicked it hard and it shut up. Who cared that I was at least ten years older than most of the youngsters there? No one knew me here and they would probably never see me again, would never remember an older redhead in a business suit sitting amongst them. 

The new band on stage was much more energetic than the last, jumping around and really burning the place up. The bass player seemed to have captured everyone's attention, understandably considering his good looks and shirtless chest covered in sweat. Ok, he captured my attention too. I couldn't look away, even when he seemed to look stare straight at me. I merely smiled tipsily, and focused my attention on his lightly furred chest. 

He had the body of a boxer, wiry, ropy muscles, long fingers, brown hair that fell over his eyes quite often, and lean hips. When he turned I couldn't help but notice a tight bum that filled out his jeans quite nicely. I'm sure that had I not been more than a little drunk I would have blushed at my open appraisal of a total stranger but at that point I didn't much care. I crossed my legs and the feel of silk on silk was another jolt to my system. Between the bass player's hot body and the naughty lingerie lovingly cupping my most feminine parts, I was getting pretty turned on.

Before I knew it the band had finished their set and the bar was about to close for the night. I checked my watch and noticed that it was almost one am. I had to get out of there and find a way home, since I'd been so rudely ditched by my business acquaintances. I was sober enough to realize that a woman walking alone wouldn't be the smartest alternative so I found a payphone and called for a taxi to take me the eight blocks back to the hotel. 

I decided to wait outside and have a cigarette, something I indulge in whenever I please. Bad for my health I know but I like the tang of good tobacco on my tongue. I heard noises coming from the side alley of the bar but I didn't go investigate. I was tired and a little miffed at being ditched and I leaned my head back, eyes closed at the first good drag of Turkish gold tobacco. All the stress and anger seemed to drain from me, leaving only the languorous feeling of my body.

I guess I drifted off because I woke with a start when the cigarette burned into my fingers. I dropped it, cursing lightly, and looked around. The bar was locked up tight and there was no one out on the street. No sign of a taxi either. Cursing again, I moved off the wall, and started to walk back towards the direction of the hotel. I talked to myself as I walked, cursing anyone and everyone I could think of for getting me into this situation, but mostly I cursed my own stupidity for not paying more attention. 

I reached the alley where I'd heard the noises earlier and for some reason I looked down the dark area, wondering what it was I'd heard. A man stood near a truck, loading what looked like equipment into the bed. I must've made some noise because he looked my direction and I noticed the bass player from earlier. He stood under a dim light, but I'd memorized that body, that face, and there was no doubt it was him. 

He raised a hand, a wave of sorts I guess, and I quickly waved back, trying to make my feet move my body away. His shout stopped what little movement I had made. "Hey! Red! Where'd your friends go?"

I turned slightly and took two steps into the alley but no further. I was still a good fifty feet from the man, and I could turn and run quickly if I needed to. I wasn't that drunk or that stupid. I knew to go closer would be putting myself in all sorts of possible danger. His remark both startled me and amused me. "How do you know I came with anyone? Or that they left?"

His laugh was sexy and contagious, echoing down the alley towards me. "I saw you when you came in. It's hard to miss five people in business suits walking into this dive."

I laughed myself, amused that he'd had the nerve to be so bold with a complete stranger. "I guess it would be. I liked the music so I stayed, any crime in that?"

The man moved closer, stepping further into the light, near the front of the truck. "So, you liked our music huh Red? Somehow you don't look the type to enjoy what we play."

"And somehow I thought someone who played your type of music wouldn't be so quick to judge a person by what clothes they have on," I shot back, turning to walk away.

"Oh come on Red, I didn't mean to insult you."

His tone was cajoling, teasing, easy. That tone stopped me in my tracks and I turned back with a slight smile. "Apology accepted. I did enjoy your band. Have a good night."

"Hey Red," he spoke softly but his words traveled to me easily, "you shouldn't walk through this area alone. If you want you can use my cell to call a cab and I'll wait right here with you until it gets here."

"And just how do I know that when I come to you to get said phone you won't grab me and trap me in your truck to have your way with me?"

His laugh was full and long this time. "Red, the day I have to force a woman to fuck me will be the day I put a shotgun to my head. I don't hurt women and I don't like men who do. If you'd like I'll walk halfway, put the phone on the ground and move back so you can pick it up."

A looked at him, curious and suspicious all at once. "Why are you being so nice to a total stranger? I'm not your responsibility you know."

"I know that, but I would feel real bad if I woke up tomorrow and there's your pretty face on the news with a story of how you'd been hurt or raped or murdered."

I thought that over for a moment before nodding my head. "Ok, I'm not so stupid that I can't see the logic in that. You'll come halfway then return to where you were?"

He raised three fingers of one hand and placed the other over his heart. "Scout's honor." He took the phone from his jeans pocket and walked slowly forward, stopping halfway down the dark alley to place the phone on the concrete.

I waited as he walked leisurely to the back of his truck and started loading big black boxes again. I moved quickly to pick up the phone and then realized I had no clue what number to dial. "It's in my phonebook under Yellow Cab," he said gruffly, holding the obviously heavy box.

I made the call, gave the dispatcher my location and ended the call. "They said it could be awhile. I'm sure you have other things you could be doing other than babysitting me."

"I'm sure there are other things I could be doing too, but none of them are as interesting as babysitting a good looking redhead in an alley. Trust me, this way I'll have a good story to tell my band mates at practice tomorrow."

I could have been making the biggest mistake of my life, but I instinctively trusted this man. I walked forward slowly, watching him the whole time, cell phone clutched tightly in my damp hand. He didn't move, just watched me walk, almost as if he was afraid if he made one little motion I would bolt and run. 

I didn't run, I didn't stop, and I didn't stop watching him as I came towards him. When I was within arm's length of the man I reached out and held out the hand with the cell phone in it. He took it carefully from my hand, making sure not to touch me, probably so he wouldn't spook me. "Thank you for letting me use your phone. It was very nice of you."

"No reason to thank me Red. I should be thanking you for letting me spend some time in the company of a very beautiful woman with one hell of a sexy accent," he chuckled to lighten the tense feel of the moment and it worked well, gaining a responding laugh from me.

I was close enough now to see that he had very dark brown eyes. They were beautiful and intriguing, the kind of eyes most woman would swoon over. I wasn't immune to them either. But it was the intelligence and concern in them that won me over. I relaxed slightly and leaned a hip against the side of his beat up truck. "I should know you're name if you're going to be my babysitter," I stated, smiling easily.

"I'm not sure I should. You might take advantage of me, throw me in my truck and have your way with me," he teased, a twinkle in those deep brown eyes.

"Sounds suspicious. I mean, you're bigger than me, so I doubt I could throw you anywhere and there's no other reason you wouldn't want to tell me your name," I teased back.

"Got me there Red. My name's Brett," he bowed at the waist, very gentlemanly. "I should think that since you know my name I should know yours."

"Analise," I responded, making a fine curtsy to match his bow, "nice to meet you Brett."

He held out his hand and I took it cautiously, feeling his dampness meet mine. His skin was rough, and to my surprise I felt a jolt of attraction that almost scared me. It shouldn't have considering my thoughts earlier in the evening but I wasn't prepared to actually feel it in person. I'd figured it was a innocent fantasy but here that fantasy was in the flesh. I pulled my hand back quickly, wiping it on the fabric of my skirt to try and erase that tingle in my palm he'd left there. 

"Sorry," he chuckled softly, "it's pretty hot out here. I should have dried my hand before I took yours. I wasn't thinking."

Shock registered in my eyes. He thought I'd wiped my hand because of the sweat on his palm, that he'd insulted me somehow. "No, don't apologize. I was wiping my palm because ..." My words died off because I couldn't think of a plausible excuse and the truth wouldn't do at all.

Brett moved to pick up another box, muscles straining with the weight. I couldn't help but look, watching them flex and bunch. It was quite a sight really, and I'm glad he'd gone silent because I wasn't sure I had enough breath to talk at that moment. 

My reprieve didn't last for long. "So, I saw you watching me earlier. I'm sure you noticed me watching you too." He didn't look up as he said this, just continued moving the black box, which I now saw was a speaker, further into the truck.

It took me a minute to think of a response. "Actually I didn't notice that at all. But, yes, I was watching you, and the others too. As I said, you were all very good."

His smile was downright evil. "What color was the lead singer's hair?" he asked, tone completely innocent. 

I was caught. I had no idea. I tried to remember, racked my brain for the answer but all I could remember was the sight of Brett's bare chest shining with sweat. Finally I just laughed and shrugged, trying to pretend it wasn't a big deal. 

Brett grunted as he moved another box into the truck bed, sweat now dripping off his forehead. "You know, I hardly ever notice the people in the audience. Usually I'm so totally into the music that I don't know or care what's going on out there. It's like a zone you get into where nothing exists but the music. Funny thing is, I noticed you watching me from moment one. And I couldn't look away from you. I actually missed several beats of music on one song because I was staring at those bright green eyes. I never mess up."

I didn't know what to say. I know my mouth was hanging open stupidly but there was nothing coming out. Finally my brain woke up and I asked quietly, "What are you trying to get at here, Brett?"

"Just stating the facts, Red. I'm good at that. I don't know how to censor myself. Never wanted to learn how," he shrugged, turning back to his work. 


Kansas 1868



Cassie climbed the gallows stairs slowly. She knew they could not start the hanging without her, and she figured the slower she climbed, the more time she would live.

She was guilty. She had killed that son-of-a-bitch. There was no doubt about it. And now she would die, but damn it, it was worth it.

The platform at the top was much smaller than she expected. It was pretty tight up there, with the preacher – somebody shut that guy up! – the hangman, the judge, and her. Oh, and the sandbag. The sandbag to be tied around her ankles to provide the extra weight needed to break her neck as she fell the 10 feet after the trap door was released. The State of Kansas had carefully calculated the amount of additional mass needed to break her neck when she fell that distance. The result would be immediate death. Well, at least she wouldn't suffer for too long.

She was guilty alright. Cassie was a widow, the result of a raid by the northern soldiers on Bleeding Kansas during the war. The fucking war. Her marriage had been a relatively happy one, given the conditions - living in a sod house on the prairie. The dust, the constant flies in the summer, the incredibly cold winters, childbirth, trying to scrape crops out of the soil – did I mention the winters? – had put incredible stress on two people in an arranged marriage. But Hiram had been a good man, and she had grown to appreciate him, even love him.

The raiders took both him and her son in one night. Not to mention the atrocity they imposed on her. How many of them that night- she lost track. And though the townspeople that remained after the raid were kind to her, the trauma of that night, that long night, would never go away. Cassie knew the slightest touch of a man would be painful for the remainder of her life. Which was growing shorter by the minute.

But Cassie was a loving person, who sought the company of others when she could. She was very good with her numbers, and had found that ability to be useful to the shopkeepers, the bankers, and the farmers to track their earnings. Cassie made a good living at that, and was able to live comfortably.

She enjoyed the company of other women – they were so gentle with her. And when the new couple moved to town, she couldn't help but appreciate the woman's beauty. 

Emma Harris was a proper Englishwoman, raised in London, but who came to Kansas with her husband. They came not to raise crops, but cattle, part of a new movement in Kansas. Theirs was an arranged marriage too, but not as happy as Cassie's.

Cassie and Emma were attracted to each other from the first sight. Two bright, intelligent women, traumatized by men – Cassie through the actions of the raiders, Emma by an abusive husband. They found solace and comfort in each others arms, in the smells and feel and tastes of each others' bodies. They would spend hours nibbling, and teasing, and licking each other, paying attention to those 'special' areas that men knew, or cared, so little about except for their own pleasures.

They both knew their liaisons would result in banishment by the townspeople if they became public, but they were smart enough to hide them. Two women spending the night together while one's husband was away on business drew little attention, and Emma's husband was away conducting 'business' a lot. She knew he was visiting the whorehouses in Kansas City, but his time away was time away from the beatings, and time she could spend with Cassie. 

But his times at home were pure hell for her. He beat her in places where it would not show, hidden by the dresses he made her wear even in the summer heat. They were childless, not because of her lack of fertility, but because he insisted on using her in ways her body was not intended. Only Cassie knew the story, saw the cuts and bruises, and understood the pain.

Cassie's hatred of him grew with each bruise, with each cut, and with each anal penetration. Until the night she could hear the screams from outside the house, and she could hold her hatred no longer. Cassie had learned to shoot as a girl, and the shots into his body were surprisingly easy. Cassie pumped shot after shot after shot, reloaded, and pumped six more into him. She was not only protecting her friend, her lover, but revenging years of trauma and depression. It felt so good.

The trial was a joke. A 'jury of her peers' (twelve men, six of whom were Harris' business partners) found her guilty of cold-blooded murder, and sentenced her to hang by her neck until dead. It had been a long time since the State of Kansas had sentenced a woman to death, and the event was promising to turn into a spectacle. Cassie wasn't eager to be the focus of so much attention.

The preacher finally stopped preaching – didn't he have anything better to do? Cassie stood next to the hangman; she could smell the fear on him. He had never hung a woman before, and was nervous about doing it. She had asked him not to touch her, or as little as possible, and he was more than willing to comply. He wanted less to do with this than she did, and felt that killing a woman was pavement on his road to hell.

Cassie refused the blindfold. She wanted the gawkers to see her eyes bulge out, to see the horror of death. Maybe that would inspire one person from imposing a death sentence in some future trial. She wanted to leave behind just one more message.

The hangman put the rope around her neck and tied the carefully calculated sandbag around her ankles. The judge read the sentence and asked for last words. Strangely at a loss for words, Cassie told him to perform an anatomically impossible act on himself.

The time came, the hangman tripped the trap door. Cassie fell, the feeling of weightlessness coming over her. Like flying – flying to my death, she flashed. It was only 10 feet, but the flight seemed to take forever, falling, falling. Cassie's stomach felt like it rose into her mouth. She felt the bile in her throat, the weightlessness. In that fraction of a second, Cassie's mind raced, trying to live another lifetime before death.

And then it happened. The State of Kansas had carefully calculated the weight of the sandbag, but failed to provide an appropriate rope. The hangman had noticed the wear on the rope, but had secretly hoped it would not stand the strain. Killing a woman was not something he relished. The rope had broke!!

Cassie fell. The sandbag hit the ground first, and she landed on it, breaking her fall. The loose bindings on her hands fell away (who would think a woman would be much trouble even if she got loose?) and she reached down to untie her legs. And she ran, ran towards the refuge she knew in Emma's arms. She yearned for her touch, to feel her tongue licking her breasts, in her vagina, her breath on her shoulders. Cassie ran under the heat of the summer sun.

Down the dusty street she ran. To the house that Emma had shared with that bastard who did those things to her. Past the lilacs, the sweet smelling lilacs that Emma pruned so carefully. Past the short picket fence that Emma had whitewashed. Emma ran tot the porch, arms open, caring not for the castigating townfolk. Her Cassie was home, and all would be well, Cassie ran up the walk, bounded onto the stairs, and.....

The rope, carefully calculated by the State of Kansas to withstand the strain of Cassie's weight and the sandbag, snapped Cassie's neck, killing her instantly.



Kansas



The silence filled with a kind of tension I hadn't felt in far too long. It had been over two years since I'd last taken a lover. I tried to blame the attraction I was feeling on that simple fact. It had just been too long since I'd had sex. I was on vacation, feeling good, had a few too many drinks. I was grasping for any and every excuse I could think of. I reminded myself that I wasn't into one night stands or having sex with strangers. 

None of my excuses were holding water. I could smell his scent, a combination of cologne and sweat and tobacco. His movements were graceful and strong, his hands lean and rough. I remembered how they felt wrapped around mine. I remembered that jolt of lust that hit me hard and fast. Yes, I'd watched him, longed for him, fantasized about how he would feel inside me, all that pent up energy let loose on my body. I didn't want to think about it but I couldn't seem to stop either.

"You're staring again Red," he stated quietly, his voice a little rough. I should have looked away, should have denied it but I couldn't. His chest, now covered by a damp t-shirt, was rising and falling a little faster than they were while he was lifting all those heavy boxes. Before I could think about what I was doing, I looked up into those velvety brown eyes and saw the same lust and need in them that I knew was in mine. 

I don't know to this day which one of us took the first step forward. I'm not sure it matters. All I remember is his hands grasping my waist tightly enough to make me gasp but lightly enough to let me know I could leave anytime I wanted. Then his mouth was on mine, his tongue sliding slickly over mine. He tasted too good, spicy and hot. I let my tongue dance with his, over and over again. 

All rational thought fled, leaving only need in it's wake. His hands pulled my body tightly against his and I could feel the heat radiating from his body and blending with mine. It felt like I could never get close enough, despite the fact that my breasts were so tightly pressed against his chest that I could feel his heartbeat against my skin, through my clothes. 

He lifted me easily and pressed me back against the brick wall of the club. My legs went around his waist, skirt riding high on my hips. His body held me up while his hands began to roam and stroke my body. His mouth never left mine except to lick and nibble at my lips. I could feel sweat trickling down my back and it sent shivers down my spine. It wasn't enough. I needed to feel his bare skin against mine. In a fever, I yanked at his shirt trying to tear it from his body. His rough laughter rolled over the skin of my face and I moaned, loudly. 

"You should have a bed Analise, but I can't wait. And I don't think you want to either," he ground the words out, his breath ragged. I shook my head no quickly, my own breath as ragged as his. I let my legs slide down his until they were firmly planted and I was sure they wouldn't buckle. Then I went to work on that shirt again, pulling it quickly over his head. The sight of that chest made me sigh deeply before I let my tongue taste his salty flesh. I flicked my tongue over a tight nipple and his gasp pleased me beyond anything I'd ever felt before.

His growl was my only warning. Brett turned me around so fast that my head took a moment to catch up. He stripped the jacket from my body and tossed it somewhere behind him. His jeans clad hips pressed into the flesh of my backside and I could feel the hard ridge of him, and his heat through my skirt and panties. I pressed back, rotating my hips lightly against the zipper of his jeans. That earned me a gasp and I smiled a smile as evil as his was earlier.

Brett turned me back around as quickly as the first time, his hands moving to the buttons of my thin white blouse and pulling, sending buttons flying everywhere. The green silk of my bra was now barely covering my breasts, nipples hard and begging for attention. His head lowered and lapped at one fabric covered nipple, making my body buck hard. My hands immediately went into his hair to keep him from moving, to keep his tongue, his hot mouth right where it felt so good. He didn't disappoint, moving from nipple to nipple, alternating between suckling and nibbling at my engorged points. 

It wasn't enough. Afraid of losing that contact but needing to feel more of him, I ran my hands down his sweat slicked chest to the waistband of his jeans. His quick intake of breath gave me just enough room to slide my hand down into those jeans and find the hard line of his cock with my fingers. With the barest of touches, I let my fingers roam his length, moaning at the silky feel of his skin.

As my reward, Brett pulled the fabric of my bra aside and took one nipple into his mouth and pulled hard against the flesh, sucking it deep into his mouth. It was enough to make me moan hard and long. His hands went to my hair and yanked the clip holding the mass in place. It fell everywhere and the scent of my shampoo surrounded us. His moan was as long as my own had been. His hands buried themselves in my curls, bringing great handfuls to his nose and inhaling deeply. The wild curls seemed to have a mind of their own, wrapping wetly around my breasts and clinging to our bodies. 

I wanted to taste more of him. Wanted the proof of his need against my lips. I slid down his body, his hands still tangled in my hair. I made quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans pulling them down just far enough so that the hard length of him jutted free. I felt him look down, watching me look at his cock, watching me reach out my tongue and take that first taste of his flesh. His hips jerked and I laughed, low and deep. I let my tongue flick against his tip one more time before taking him deep into my mouth. The moan I couldn't try to restrain vibrating against his length. I came off him slowly, wetly, knowing that he was watching each inch emerge from between my lips. The hands in my hair tightened almost painfully but it felt good, hot. 

He didn't let me taste him for long before swearing I was trying to kill him and pulling me up gently. My chest slid slick against his on the way up, my smooth stomach running up the hard ridge of that beautiful cock. He put his hands under my bottom and lifted me back up against the wall, the v of my hips nestling against the naked flesh of his. He rocked his cock against me a couple of times, stroking my throbbing clit until I cried out. His hands found my thighs and stroked over them, moaning when the silk turned into naked, milky pale flesh.

"You have naughty secrets Red. I want to find all of them. Imagine all this silk and lace hidden under such severe clothes. You were made for silk Red. But I want you out of it more, despite how unbelievably sexy you look in these scraps of cloth." His voice was low, deep and rough and it was a caress to my ears. I shivered hard, his voice sexy enough to make me want to cry out in need. While I shook, he put his fingers in the sides of my thong and tugged hard, tearing the fabric off my hips and letting it fall to the concrete below. The bare flesh of my womanhood was exposed to his eyes, my skirt up high around my waist. His deep breath and deeper moan was evidence of how the shining wetness of my pussy was exciting him. 

Slowly, he pressed his hips forward and let his hardness slide slickly against my wet softness. Up and down, he stroked over my clit until his cock was shiny with my wetness. I was close to shattering just with those few strokes but he pulled away, reaching into his pocket for the necessary foil packet. Somehow he managed to hold me up against the wall, open the packet and, with my help, roll it over his visibly throbbing cock. 

We were both holding our breath, both looking down and watching his hard cock slide slowly inside of my body. I couldn't breath for several moments, his cock filling me completely. Once he was fully and deeply inside me, I looked up into his eyes and saw myself reflected there. It was powerful and striking and my body reacted by clenching around him tightly. His fingers dug into the crease of my hips, a big turn on for me. I bucked, pressing as tightly against him as I possibly could. Still looking into those deep brown eyes, I whispered, "Fuck me."

His only answer was a gasp. His hips pulled away and the pressed back, sliding in and out with a ferocity that should have scared me, or hurt, but my body was aching for just what he was giving me. 

The sounds of our sweaty bodies slapping together echoed in the vacant alley. Gasps, moans and whispered words reached each others ears. Our foreheads were pressed together and our eyes were locked, mouths barely touching to share each other's breath. Occasionally a tongue would flick out to taste each other, but neither one of us looked away. We were locked in a battle of sexual need, both determined to win.

Brett's hands slid from my hips up to my waist, clasping around me tightly again. Before I could protest he had me up and in his arms, walking us quickly to the lowered tailgate of his truck. More gently than I could have imagined him being, he lowered me down, never letting his body leave mine. I lay back on the cool metal, sighing at the feel of it on my heated flesh. His fingers reached out to stroke over my nipples, his body buried deeply, but motionless inside mine. Down over my stomach they roamed, tracing a tattoo of a thorny rose vine that ran from my belly button to the top of my mound. My flesh was slick with my own wetness and his fingers rubbed it in, stroking the flesh I kept shaved bare.

When the rough pad of his thumb found my swollen clit I knew it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge. He was watching my face, looking into my eyes while his thumb stroked, once, twice, three times. I felt my stomach tighten, felt the electricity build inside my body. He could feel it, see it, and I knew he was trying to take me over. His hoarse whisper did it when he said, "Cum for me Ana."

And I did. I came hard, my body bucking and clasping him hard inside me. He waited me out, hissing at each clench and release of my pussy around his cock. I didn't get a chance to recover, my body was already screaming for more, my mouth begging for just that. More. He moved once, so slow, so deliciously slow, pulling out until the head of his cock barely remained inside me then thrusting forward just as slow, watching his cock disappear inside my still pulsing pussy. It was so erotic, watching him as he watched us. The look on his face was intense and heated. I felt another orgasm building inside me and I wasn't going alone this time.

He quickened his pace, returning his eyes to mine once more, eyes that glowed with heat and lust. His hands took mine and pulled down until our clasped grips were held tightly against my raised thighs. "I can't wait anymore Ana," he growled, beginning to pound his hips against mine with a wildness that I absorbed greedily. I could feel his body tightening against mine, could feel an answering tightening in my own. There was no stopping, and in unison our breaths' caught and held, the moment seeming to extend, head into slow motion. He never looked away from me, and I knew the moment that he let go my body would explode all over again. And it did, his body thrusting so deeply into mine that I cried out, shaking and bucking wildly. He thrust one last time, deep and hard, his shout echoing loudly. Still cumming, he pulled me up by my hands and wrapped his arms around my body and held me tight to his. The jerking of his cock inside me was enough to set me off again and I bit into the flesh of his shoulder as another orgasm wracked my body. 

We stayed that way for a while, breath gasping out, trying to return to a more normal, slower pattern. My hair was soaked and clinging to our bodies, tangling everywhere. I couldn't ever remember being so satisfied and so comfortable after having sex with someone, even someone I'd known for a long time. It felt right being there in his arms, despite the surroundings. I wasn't ready to let him go and to my great relief he didn't seem to be ready to release me any time soon either. Eventually, the sounds of the real world worked their way into our consciousness. I hated that feeling of having to pull away from such intimate contact with him. I knew that once he left my body and let me go the doubts and awkwardness would start. We'd put ourselves to rights, redress, not knowing where to look or what to say. 

Never in my life had I had sex with a total stranger. Never in my life would I have risked having sex with someone in a dirty, dark alley. I had gone so far outside of my normal experiences that I was both shocked at myself and pleased that I'd burst through some barrier I'd built that I hadn't realized was there. I'd taken this vacation to feel free and I had to admit that this encounter had done just that.

Finally, he did pull away, but he didn't do what I expected. His let his body pull away from mine slowly, reluctantly, but he didn't let his arms release their hold. He did lighten it some before letting one hand fall to remove the condom and drop it onto the ground. His other hand fell away as well, but came up to caress my hot cheek, wiping the damp tendrils of hair from my flesh. He pulled back slightly and refastened his jeans, but never stopped looking into my eyes, seeming to want to memorize every detail.

My jacket had landed on the side rail of his truck and he reached blindly for it, pulling the cups of my bra up to encase my breasts once more before tugging my arms into the jacket and buttoning it to hide my nakedness. He was so gentle with me now, making my heart ache with his care. 

"Can you stand?" he asked, taking hold of my hands, squeezing them lightly, rubbing his thumbs over the soft backs of them. I nodded yes and he released my hands to pick me up easily off the tailgate, setting me on my feet gently. He kneeled down to pull my skirt back into place, kissing my knees before letting the hem fall over them. My heart turned over at such a tender gesture and I felt tears beginning to burn the backs of my eyes. I let my head fall forward, let my hair hide my face and the water gathering in my eyes. He stood and I saw his feet move away, but they didn't go far. He found my hair clip and tucked it into his pocket. For some reason this simple action set me off and the first tear fell from my eye. 

He didn't force me to look up at him, didn't question why I was hiding from his sight, just took hold of my hands and pulled me to the front of his truck, opened the door and set me on the seat, being very careful of me. I didn't know what to think about his actions. Didn't know what to feel either. He came around the front and got in the driver's side, slid the key in the ignition and started the engine. He still hadn't spoken and I didn't know what to say. But, after he put the truck in gear, he pulled me close and tucked me under his free arm, letting my face turn into the crease created by his neck and shoulder. I felt safe and the tears came faster.

Brett turned left out of the alley, the way I'd been beginning to walk when he'd stopped me earlier. I knew he didn't know where he was taking me but I wondered if he would ask or if I should just tell him. Finally, at the stop light, he quietly asked what hotel I was staying at. I told him and he nodded. It took barely five minutes to reach the hotel. He parked and turned off the engine. 

I didn't move for a moment, just sat there inhaling the scent that I'd always think of as his. Inhaling the scent of me on him. I knew there would be no easy way to end this without any awkward moments so I moved away slightly, letting him know it was ok to let me go. He did take his arm away but only long enough to open his door and pull me by the hand out with him. He didn't release my hand, just walked slowly with me to the elevator in the parking garage. I took the key out of my pocket and slid it into the slot, waiting as the car came down to our level. He still didn't release me as the doors opened and I turned to tell him that it wasn't necessary for him to come up with me but he wasn't taking the hint. He led me into the elevator and quietly asked me what floor I was on. I pressed the button for five and stared at the floor as the doors closed and the car moved swiftly up. 

Brett walked me to my door and I turned once more to tell him goodbye but he acted as if I hadn't moved. He took the key from my hand and slid it into the lock, pushed open the door and picked me up, carrying me inside the dark room. Gently, he set me on the small loveseat and moved away, locking the door. I was so confused by his careful attentions that I didn't question his intentions. 

He came back and once again kneeled in front of me, gently lifting each foot to remove my shoes. He stood me up and undressed me as if I were a child and still the tears wouldn't stop. I didn't know what was wrong with me or why his ministrations were affecting me so deeply but I couldn't get a firm hold on my emotions long enough to question him, or myself. He left me once more and went into the bathroom to run steaming water into the deep tub. Once it was to his satisfaction he returned and led me into the bath, watching as I settled into the water, sighing at the feel of it's heat on my now rapidly cooling body. 

After I'd settled in he took a sponge and began squeezing water over my back and shoulders. It felt so good that I sighed and let my eyes close. His voice was so quiet and so sad that at first I thought I was dreaming it. "Please, stop crying Ana. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to be so rough with you. I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel better, but you're killing me with those tears that keep filling those beautiful green eyes of yours."

The shock of those words caused my head to snap up and my eyes to open. "Brett, you didn't hurt me. That was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He looked at me, a bewildered expression on that handsome face. "Then why have you been crying?"

I laughed, the sound light and happy. "Because that's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

The confused look in his eyes and the wrinkle on his forehead was so cute that I reached out and tried to smooth it away. "Are all Irish women this confusing or is it just you, Red?"

I laughed again, full and deep. "You act as if you haven't been with many women Brett. Don't you know we're all emotional and confusing at times?"

Brett smiled a little shyly, a light blush staining his cheeks. "I have been with four women my entire life. I know that you can all be emotional and confusing but I've never had one cry after sex. I thought I'd hurt you because I'd been so rough, hurt you by not finding a more comfortable place to ... well, to have sex."

I reached out and placed my palm against his cheek, liking the feel of the stubble there. "You didn't hurt me. Did I ever act as if you did during that very, very, very nice interlude?"

"Well, no," he replied, closing his eyes and turning his cheek into my palm, "but I couldn't think of any other reason you'd want to cry."

I sighed, resigned to having to make myself look like a real fool. "I was crying because I have never been with a man who was so gentle and so caring and so concerned for my comfort the way you were. Nor have I ever known a man who was so wild sexually one moment and so tender the next. You made my heart ache for things that I've never had. Does that make more sense for you?"

He nodded but didn't speak. I thought he was trying to finally pull away from me some so I let him remain silent. After a moment or two he picked up the sponge and began to wash my body gently, rinsing me, washing my hair and being so careful to not get the suds into my eyes. I washed my own face, feeling very vulnerable without the shield of makeup and clothes in front of this man. He helped me rise, wrapping my hair in one towel, my body in the other, rubbing the terry cloth softly over my skin to dry me.




Kansas



Once I was dry he turned me towards the steamy mirror and wiped it so I could see him standing behind me, watching my face, staring at my eyes in the reflection. He let my hair down and used the fabric to squeeze the water from the tangled locks. Then he broke my heart all over again by taking my comb and beginning to gently stroke it through the knots. It took him much longer than it would have taken had I done it alone but it felt good to be taken care of, so I remained silent and let him do this one last thing for me. 

"You have the most beautiful hair. So long and thick. It seems to try and trap my fingers when I stroke it." He ran them down the length, watching his hands against it. "You're skin is so pale and fragile looking yet, your body is strong and lush. You were beautiful and very standoffish when you first came into the bar, but now you look like a totally different woman. I think you're even more beautiful without all that makeup and the suit."

I blushed a deep red, cursing my Irish skin. "Thank you," I finally managed to reply. His hands were still stroking my hair easily, his eyes still staring into my own in the mirror. Now, I was the one confused. He didn't seem ready to leave at all, in fact he seemed content to stand there and stare at me. I didn't mind, in fact, I was relishing the attention.

After long moments of silence from us both, Brett asked quietly, "I want to sleep with you Ana. Will you let me sleep next to you tonight?"

Once more he'd rendered me speechless. I nodded yes, and took his hand this time, leading him into the bedroom. His eyes were drooping sleepily already, so I took charge and undressed him, taking the same care he did with me. His body was relaxed now, and in the light I could see he'd wrapped his fingers in tape, which I removed gently. His fingers were scarred, probably from years of playing so energetically. I could imagine them bleeding and sore after a night of playing. I kissed each fingertip, the way you would kiss a child's hurt. He sighed and my heart swelled. 

Once I had him undressed, I removed my towel and lay down in the bed, taking his hand to pull him down next to me. His body wrapped around mine, fitting easily and perfectly against me. He sighed once more and I felt his body go limp, exhaustion setting in and sending him off to a deep sleep. 

I lay there for a little while, watching him. His face was softer in sleep, more like a little boy's than a man's. His lips were opened slightly, and occasionally a light moan would escape. He held me lightly but tightly enough to feel me at all times. Before long I too settled my face into the curve of his shoulder and slept peacefully. 

Sometime, not long before dawn, we came to each other again, slowly, easily. He was gentle this time but it was almost more powerful than the first time. He sighed my name and held me close, telling me how beautiful I was. After, we slept again, sated and for me, feeling safe.

I woke the next day late, very late, to blinding sunlight. Brett was gone, the part of the bed where he'd slept cold. My heart felt heavy but I tried to keep in mind that it was what it had been. A one night stand that had been magnificent and beautiful and sweet, but nothing more. We weren't lovers, didn't know anything about each other aside from our first names and what our bodies wanted from each other. I told myself that it would have to be enough. But, I doubted that I'd ever find another man like him, or one that could move me so easily with a few tender words and touches. 

I rose, took a shower and packed. I didn't look back when I left. I felt sad and somewhat lost but I refused to let it get to me. I was here to have a vacation and relax and that was exactly what I was going to do. But first, I was going back to El Dorado to check back into my pretty little farmhouse room.

Being from Ireland, my impressions of things are slightly different from the American view. Even simple things are still magical to me. I still believe in faeries and leprechauns are just as mischievous here as they are at home. I believe in destiny and hope. As I drove out of Wichita that day, I decided that if I had been destined to be more to Brett than just a one night stand then he would have left a note, a phone number, stayed until I woke. It was an incredible night and one I would never forget, but that's all it was. Just one night of great sex with a man I'd never see again. Or would I?



Kansas



I told them that Las Vegas was where we should go to find the kind of woman we were looking for, but the captain overruled me and ordered us to Kansas instead. That's how he put it to the navigator -- "Kansas" -- like it was a set of coordinates or something, instead of a whole big-ass state. These Areoleans, they're always having trouble with details like that: city or state, human or animal, man or woman. It's all a broad brush to them, as if their entire understanding of the planet came from lazily skimming the briefest of summaries. Earth: The Cliff's Notes. The captain didn't want to admit it, but I figured out pretty quickly (even through the buzzing mechanical jumble of the Auto-Translator) that his Kansas obsession stemmed from the fact that he'd intercepted and studied a transmission of the film The Wizard of Oz during an earlier expedition. 

He fancied himself an expert on Earth in general, and Kansas in particular, and he was just sure as anything that we'd very quickly find the woman we needed amid all that colorful frolicking and music. I tried to explain to him that he was confusing Oz, an imaginary place, with Kansas, a real place, and I tried to tell him what the real Kansas was like, and why it probably wouldn't suit the purposes of our mission, but he wouldn't listen. Hey, what the hell do I know, I just grew up on this planet, why listen to me when we have a bona fide Wizard of Oz expert on board who has been to Earth a whole two times? Fat little three-legged know-it-all bastard. It took us a week of hovering around Topeka before we finally found a woman who would go for it.

She was a redhead, thirty-ish, pretty, a little on the busty side. Part of the deal was that I got to pick her, and that's what I was looking for: nice curves, nice boobs, nice hair, pretty. I'm not picky, but I figured after all these light-years of flavorless food and sun-less skies and being surrounded by ship-mates who are half my height and not even remotely of the same species, I deserved to be a little picky. The Areoleans didn't care one way or the other who I picked, as long as she was female. (Not that they'd know the difference if I decided to pull one over on them; for a supposedly more advanced culture, they are remarkably unobservant little things.) 

Her name was Jackie. "As in `Kennedy-Onassis,' " she told me, with a smirk, over our drinks in a quiet bar on the outskirts of the city. "My parents were into celebrity gossip, and I guess she was still a big deal when I was born, in '73." I nodded. I remembered well what a big deal Jackie Kennedy Onassis had been in the early 1970s (right around the time I left) because that was, to me, just a year or two ago. But of course I couldn't tell that to this Jackie. I didn't know whether she was even familiar with Einstein's theory (well, more than a theory, as it turns out) about what happens to a person's relationship with time when he spends a few dozen years traveling at near-light speeds. How does one explain to one's date -- to whom one appears to be roughly of her own generation, age-wise -- that one is actually old enough to be her grandfather? And more to the point, how would that revelation, interesting though it may be, advance one's mission-goal of having sex with her?

It had been awhile since I'd done this, picked up a woman in a bar. In one sense, it had been maybe three years since I'd done this, but in another sense, it had been something like four decades. I could assume that the mechanics of the ritual were pretty much the same -- libation, conversation, flirtation, consummation -- but I was worried about whether I could navigate the nuances now, the subtle cultural shadows that you don't recognize from studying radio transmissions and satellite intercepts. Sitting there in the bar, trying to lock eyes with her at the other side of the room, I'd only gradually become aware of how much those cultural shadows had shifted at the edges. The bar was still a bar -- in some ways so similar to the bars I remembered that I was momentarily embarrassed for my species' lack of evolution since I'd been gone -- but then I began to notice things. The air felt strangely light, with none of the trademark haze that defines the air of a bar, and I eventually discerned that it was because not a single cigarette was burning in the whole place. (There weren't even any ashtrays. In a bar!) The bars I'd remembered usually had a boxy television set tuned to a football game or something, but this one had, like, five television sets -- huge, remarkably flat ones, hanging from the walls like murals -- and they were tuned to several different sports, two of the which I didn't recognize. A little machine stood in one corner of the room under a glowing sign that announced, "ATM -- CASH," and I spent a good deal of time wondering what that was all about. The bartender, instead of jabbing at a cash register, poked at a computer screen. The whole setting was just a little off, like a blurry photograph of something familiar. 

The clothing and hair styles were different, of course, and I'd expected that much. I'd warned the Areoleans about how quickly hair and clothing styles change on Earth, and I had suggested that we take a little extra time to do some reconnaissance and manufacture an updated image for me before embarking on the mission, but as usual they wouldn't listen. Upon walking into the bar, I was immediately aware that my hair, a little too short by the standards of the time when I'd left, was now, clearly, a little too long. I think my clothing, though, was the bigger issue. I concluded, from the long, open stares I received from every corner of the bar, that my snug white slacks with the flared cuffs at the bottom weren't "in" anymore. Or maybe it was my wide-collared silk button shirt with the thick blue-and-gold vertical stripes and the lime-green sleeves. A few minutes after arriving, I buttoned up the top few buttons of the shirt, and that seemed to help diminish the stares somewhat, but it was still clear that I wasn't going to win any fashion awards.

"You should have listened to me about the clothes," I muttered behind my beer, knowing that they were listening. "I'll be lucky to get the time of day down here, let alone get laid."

But as it turned out, the clothes worked to my advantage. "That's a helluva shirt," Jackie said, grinning -- pretty close to laughing, actually -- as she happened upon me at the bar while ordering her drink. I thanked her for the compliment, and she grinned and sort-of laughed again in response, and then asked me if I was going to a costume party or something. 

"Actually," I said, making an impromptu strategic decision, "I'm dressed like this because this was how people dressed when the aliens picked me up, in 1971. They didn't give me time to pack anything else."

She laughed fully this time, as I pondered whether the strategy had been a good idea. The Areoleans were pondering it too, and angrily; I could hear them howling their falsetto little howls through my inner-ear implants, demanding to know why the hell I was telling her that.

"Aliens," she said, chuckling. "Hippie aliens, right?"

"Actually, I was the hippie. Sort of," I said, pressing ahead with the strategy while trying to ignore the sounds of pissed off aliens echoing in my ears. "They were here on a scientific expedition, and they took some specimens, including me. Now they've come back to run some field tests. I'm part of the mission."

"And what, exactly, mister hippie space-traveler," she asked, still grinning, "is your mission?"

In my ears, I distinctly heard the captain growl through the Auto-Translator: "Don't dare you!" (The Auto-Translator jumbles words sometimes.)

"My mission," I said, ignoring Captain Whiney-Butt, "is to find a willing woman, and pick her up, and have sex with her."

"Ah," she said, with mock scientific detachment. "And this little experiment will take place on their spaceship?"

"No, no. Here. I mean, not here in this bar -- here on Earth. In my hotel room." 

"The aliens rented you a hotel room?" 

I nodded. "They have a budget."

"And they'll be observing this . . . experiment?"

"Mmm-hmm. Through my eyes and ears. They've installed implants."

"Of course," she said, still trying to sound scientifically detached, but allowing a few little chuckles to slip through. "And are there any particular . . . positions . . . the aliens would like to see you use with this `willing woman'?"

"Yes. They gave me a list." In fact, they did.

"And obviously," she reasoned, as if it all made sense now, "they figured that Kansas would be just the place to go for this sort of thing."

"Obviously," I agreed. I didn't mention the captain and his Wizard of Oz fetish. I mean, why get into it?

I knew she'd either avert her eyes and walk quickly away from me, or sit down and playfully talk more with me about my mission. It was the latter -- she scooted onto the stool next to me after a few minutes -- which prompted the captain and crew to finally shut up and let me do my job. We soon took our conversation to a secluded corner table, where she continued debriefing me about my mission, while I considered how I should go about debriefing her.

"So if they picked you up in 1971," she said, doing the math, "then you must have been a baby."

"Actually, I was just a little younger than I am now," I corrected her. When she responded with a look of confusion, I added: "Y'know -- `Theory of Relativity'."

"Oh? Now how does that work?" She smiled slyly. "I mean, I know, of course, but I'm testing you."

"Einstein said the closer you travel to light speed, the slower time moves for you. I've been traveling at near-light speeds for most of the past thirty-some-odd years. Time, from my perspective, has slowed to a crawl. Honestly, it seems like I just left here last year."

"Well, that explains why you're so darned fashionable," she said, surveying my blue-gold-green striped silk shirt. "So that makes you . . . how old?"

"I'm seventy-nine. Or, I mean, I would be seventy-nine, if I'd stayed here the whole time."

"Wow," she marveled. "You don't look a day over seventy."

We drank, and talked. She told me about her life: born in Kansas, not far from here; divorced, no kids; a job in sales that paid the bills but bored her. I told her about growing up in Indiana, about my parents, with whom I'd not gotten along too well in the '60s. ("You had to be there, in those times, and you weren't born yet," I reminded her.) I told her about my younger brother, who'd looked up to me when we were growing up, and who was the last human I talked to before I left, and who is the only human I've actually missed.

"He would be in his seventies now," I noted, as much to myself as to her. "Old and frail and retired from whatever it was that he ended up doing with his life. If he's still alive at all." I paused, somberly, then tensely cleared my throat and moved on quickly to another topic, as she chuckled at what she took to be a fine acting job.

And I told her about the Areoleans, everything I knew. I could hear, in my inner ear, the captain and the rest of them still expressing worry and frustration, in their falsetto-howling way, about my strategy, but I knew what I was doing. Fabricated stories are an honored art form in the world of Earth bar pick-ups -- that much had obviously remained unchanged since I'd left -- and she seemed to find it appealing that I had decided, in my quest to pick her up, to go with the little-used alien-abduction approach. She clearly had a sense of humor, and clearly thought that I did as well (actually, I really don't), and perhaps she found something gratifying about my honesty in telling such an obvious lie. That this one happened to be the truth was irrelevant; I could see now that it might work pretty well, bar-pick-up-wise, even for someone who hadn't actually been abducted by aliens.

"Their planet is called `Areola'?" she asked, turning the word over in her mouth.

"That's right."

"Areola?"

"Yes."

"Um -- do you know what an `areola' is?"

"That's just a coincidence."

"What's their moon called? `Pubis'?"

Actually, they have two moons. One is called Zogg. I can't pronounce the other one. I told her this, and I told her about their lovely pink sun and the oddly luminescent shadows it casts on the crystalline surface of their planet in the morning, and how their oceans cover nine-tenths of the planet but are only a few inches deep, allowing everyone to walk around on the oceans. I told her how they have three legs, and when she asked where the third one was, and I pointed at my crotch, she laughed. "When they first examined me," I recounted, "and they -- well -- took my pants off, they thought perhaps one of my legs was deformed." She laughed harder, as I smiled tensely, remembering how frightening that initial exam had been.

"And their sun is pink?"

I nodded. "Something about its unique radio-pulse cycle, and the way it translates visually on the color spectrum."

"Well, naturally."

We went to my hotel in her car. When she suggested it -- "Let's go to your hotel and talk more about these aliens and their pink sun and their unpronounceable moon and those big third legs of theirs" -- I could hear, in my inner ear, what I took to be cheering by the Areoleans, and I could imagine the scene up on the ship. In celebration, they do this thing that roughly approximates a human "high-five," except they use their legs.

At the hotel, we kissed, and started to undress, and she continued with the script, apparently not tiring of it.

"These Areoleans -- do they understand what an areola is?" she asked, suggestively, kneeling above me on the bed in her bra and panties.

"No. They think it's just the name of their planet."

"They're watching right now, through your eyes?"

"Yes."

"Do they want to see what their planet is named after?"

"I think they'd like that."

At that, she brought both hands up to the middle of her chest and slowly peeled back both cups of her bra, until the edges of both her nipples peeked out like two half moons. Her nipples where stiff, her areolae fawn-colored, wide and elliptical. She held the pose for a moment, smiling pretty for the twin cameras of my eyes, then announced grandly: "Welcome to Earth!"

The mission went well from there. The Areoleans had been insistent on seeing a lot of foreplay, because it's an especially alien concept to them. (Their own mating process takes three seconds, max, start to finish; any longer, and both partners can wind up paralyzed for life.) I explained this foreplay requirement to Jackie, and she was completely with the program. I kissed her mouth, her breasts, her nipples -- paying special attention to her areolae -- as she provided running commentary for our unseen audience. "The kissing creates a framework of closeness for the more intimate activities to follow," she said, between kisses, sounding a little like the narrator on one of those nature documentary shows on television. "He's sucking my nipples now -- note how they become increasingly erect as a result of this stimulation." 

I hit a little speedbump when I slid down her panties and got my first good look between her legs. There was so little hair there that I momentarily wondered whether she was a cancer patient or something. I mean, there was almost none. 

Here's the funny part: She noticed how I paused there, and she thought it was for the opposite reason that it was. "I usually shave it closer," she said, apologetically, to me and to the Aeroleans, "but I haven't done it this week. I wasn't expecting this tonight." She clearly was a little embarrassed. "If you want, I could go in the bathroom right now and take care of it. Did the Areoleans send a razor with you, by any chance? . . . " 

I finally figured out what was going on -- one more nuanced change since I'd left, like the flat TVs or the computerized cash registers, a new twist on a familiar thing -- and I tried to explain it to her. "When I left," I said, "women, adult women, y'know, grownups, they, um . . . Well, I mean, they, um, down there, they were, um . . . They had, um . . . "

"Oh, you mean bush!" she said, suddenly grinning with epiphany. "That's right, you left in the '70s! They all had bush back then, didn't they? I've seen it in those old Playboys!" She nodded a patient, understanding nod, like you'd nod for an uncultured guest who was trying to figure out which fork to use at dinner. "It's different now," she explained. "Women shave there." Then she looked closer into my eyes and spoke louder and slower, as if into a microphone, for the sake of the Areoleans: "Women. Shave. There."

Getting back on track now, I scooted my face down her body and eased her legs open and pressed my mouth against her fleshy mound, probing her with my tongue and lips, running my fingers along her and inside her, feeling her heat and wetness. She moaned and squirmed and opened her legs a little wider and moaned some more, and I began to remember why I'd liked this particular activity so much back in my old life, when there were still humans with which to do this. (I don't know whether sex between humans and Areoleans is possible; honestly, I wouldn't even know where to start.) She did an admirable job of trying to continue her documentary narration for our alien observers, but she kept slipping off script as I pulled her hard little clitoris between my lips or pushed my tongue inside her: "And now, note how . . . oh! . . . how he's . . . sucking . . . ahh . . . at my . . . clit! . . . while probing me with . . . his . . . fingers . . . oh god! . . . "

I was by now insistently, achingly hard, a feeling I'd not experienced in more than a few light-years. I took her first in the missionary position -- "Named for European `missionaries' who . . . oh! . . . taught natives this way of having sex," she breathlessly explained to the Areoleans, as I plunged inside her -- and we spent the next few hours demonstrating every position either of us could think of. 

In between, we rested, and talked. She kept prodding me for more of my travelogue descriptions of Areola and its shallow oceans and its pink sun and its short fat little three-legged inhabitants, prodding me like a kid asking for just one more story before bedtime. She was getting sleepy, her speech blurring at the edges, and there were moments I thought she perhaps was having trouble distinguishing fact from what she thought was fiction -- moments in which it wasn't play-acting anymore, in which she appeared to actually believe it all. 

I became aware that I kept using the word "abducted" as I told her about it. I'm not sure why I said that. Truth is, they never forced me to do anything. (I mean, other than landing in Kansas, instead of Las Vegas, which I still think was a bone-headed decision.) Truth is, they gave me the option of staying here, before they took off in '71. They were relatively clear, in their falsetto, Auto-Translator way, about how long I'd be gone if I chose to leave with them. And I left anyway, knowing that when I got back, my parents would be long dead and my brother would be elderly and everyone and everything I'd known and loved would be dust, or well on the way there. I left anyway, and the Areoleans never asked me about why I decided to do that, for which I'm grateful, because it's an embarrassing question, isn't it? It says something, about me, that I went with them, doesn't it? I mean, you don't just up and leave your planet if things are going well for you.

"Why don't you look him up?" she asked, creakily, her eyes closed, and it took me a moment to realize that she was talking about my brother.

"He'd never believe it was me," I said, giving the easy answer. "And if I convinced him it was me, it might send him into a stroke or something. I mean, he's, like, seventy-three, and here comes his big brother who disappeared a lifetime ago -- just left him, with them" -- I cleared my throat, trying not to think about how hurt he had looked when I told him I was going overseas and probably wouldn't be back -- "and still looking the same as I did then. Even wearing the same clothes. It might kill him."




Kansas



She smiled, her eyes still closed. "But what hip clothes they are," she creaked.

She fell asleep and I watched her breathe, watched her elliptical fawn left areola gently rise and fall as it peeked out from the edge of the sheet. She really was beautiful, in that way that only human women are. I lowered the sheet to look at both her breasts -- I had a sense that she wouldn't mind. As the Areoleans recorded it all back on the ship, I thought of how she'd look the next time I came home. I pictured her as an old woman. I tried to imagine it, those full, taut breasts now low and lined, that impish pixie face wrinkled and leathery, that silky red hair brittle and white. 

She awoke while I was looking at her, and she smiled, and after all that, it was the smile that did me in. I told her she was beautiful, and sexy, and funny, and that if I'd known someone like her before I'd left, I might not have left. 

But I had left, and now I was leaving again, soon. My connections here were tenuous -- always had been, it was never clear to me why. Areola drew me like baby to a nipple. Something about that pink sun made me feel I was home in a way that my real home didn't. I'd assumed from the start of the mission that I would go back with them again. That was still the plan, but it was more complicated now, I realized, as I took in her sweet funny smile, as she played along with the joke that wasn't a joke.

So I told her I'd be back, and that I wanted to see her again when I returned, and unlike the well-worn standard in Earth-bar-pickup culture, I meant it. "I'll be waiting," she said, dramatically. Then, to seal the deal, we had one more long, slow fuck that was entirely for us, no alien involvement at all. I even closed my eyes, to give us some privacy. 

"So I'll be in my seventies?" she asked, afterward, as we lay there letting our sweat cool.

"Thereabouts."

"And you'll be -- how old?"

"I won't be forty yet."

"You don't think I'll look pretty gross to you at that point?"

"No, I don't."

"I'll be frail. You'll have to be careful with me."

"I will be."

* * * 

The Areoleans are good record-keepers, I'll give them that. In the few weeks we hovered around Earth, they managed to collect pretty much every piece of data that human civilization had ever created up until that point. It's all on three shiny little disks in the ship's library -- every novel and newspaper and magazine, every movie and television show, every image on paper or film or computer pixel. 

And every piece of erotica -- every 1950s stag film, every 1970s girlie magazine, every new piece of Internet porn yet created. The Areoleans have no particular use for that kind of data, of course, but I do. I've spent the past few months here in the ship's library, gathering up every example I can find of one particular genre of human erotica: Older women. Much older women. Seventy-something women. 

After the initial shock of it, there is, in fact, something lovely about the translucent skin, the delicate white hair, the soft low pendulous breasts. It just takes a little getting used to, an acquired taste, like wine. I'll have a couple years to acquire it, as time moves on this ship -- or several decades, as time moves back home. When I get back, the bars will be utterly unrecognizable. My brother will have turned to dust. There will be nothing left there for me, not one remaining connection, except a seventy-something woman who, at her age, could very well drop dead of a heart attack when she sees her one-night stand from a lifetime ago, suddenly standing before her again, looking just as he looked that night. Even wearing the same blue-and-gold striped silk shirt with the light green sleeves.

I'll have to be careful with her. 

I will be.

(END)



Kansas City



I'd been in Kansas City for a week on business. Originally, that was all the longer I was supposed to be in town. But as is often the case with my job, things didn't go as planned. What this meant to me was that I would be staying the weekend in Kansas City and several days into the next week as well. Needless to say that left me with a weekend of nowhere to go and nothing to do in a city I didn't know much about.

I ended up spending most of Friday night in a bookstore and an adjacent coffee shop. While it was enough to keep me occupied I figured there had to be more to do in Kansas City than drink coffee. The next morning I resigned myself to finding something a bit more interesting to do that night.

On my way out and about looking for lunch on a lazy Saturday afternoon I saw a billboard. I hadn't realized it before, but Kansas City is a gambling town and the billboard was advertising a nearby riverboat casino.

I'd never really been gambling before, but I'd heard my friends talk about blackjack so I at least new the basic rules and strategy, and at that moment a night at a riverboat casino seemed much more appealing than passing the time in a book store again.

I arrived at the casino around seven in the evening. Early enough that it wasn't crowded, but late enough that is wasn't empty. I spent the first half hour wandering around the place trying to get a feel for it. As I walked around, I found it hard to ignore this beautiful woman I saw playing blackjack. She was a bit older than me, but she had this air of sexiness that practically made me look at her.

She work a black suit, with a white blouse, a black button down jacket, and a skirt cut right above the knees. To top it all off she had on black stockings and 3 inch heels. She looked very classy, not to mention incredibly sexy. 

I found myself walking by her blackjack table several times just to look at her. She had this magnetic quality that kind of drew me in, almost like she was teasing me and didn't even know it. On the third pass she must have noticed and she gave me a mysterious grin when she caught me eyeing her. She quickly turned away to whisper into the woman's ear sitting next to her.

Even after being embarrassed I couldn't help myself, seeing her perched on the stool in her black suit sent all kinds of visions racing through my head.

Finally I managed to come to my senses and decided I needed to do what I came here to do, relax, have a few drinks, and play some blackjack. I sat down at a table at the other end of the casino and tried to take my mind off the beautiful woman I'd just seen.

I'd been playing for about fifteen minutes when I saw her again. Apparently she changed tables and was now sitting directly across from me, about ten yards away at another blackjack table.

I continued to play and tried to focus on the game at hand, but in the back of my mind, I was pre-occupied with her. More than once she caught me looking and she always gave me the same sly grin.

I couldn't focus. The way she moved, the way she looked, the way she smiled, it was all driving me mad. And the thing was, she knew it too. She'd whisper to her friend and giggle as they looked across at me, well aware of the effect she was having on me.

She put off an air of innocence and sensuality, but it was obvious underneath she enjoyed flaunting the power of her sexuality. She seemed to know instinctively the slightest glance or movement of her body could have a profound influence on me.

My looking and her smiling back continued for about an hour as I tried to play blackjack. My money was quickly dwindling away as my eyes and mind focused on the beautiful lady across from me and the way she constantly teased me.

Finally, she and her friend got up from there table and walked away. My torture was over. Seeing her across the way caused a lapse in focus and now that she was gone I could go back to concentrating on the game. But being free from the torture didn't last long. I still couldn't get her out of my head and I found myself sitting at the table and looking around the casino trying to figure out exactly what happened to her. Fifteen minutes went by and I hadn't even caught a glimpse of her.

Then the next thing I know, an empty spot at the table opens up next to me and no sooner had the person left than the woman I'd been looking for sat down next to me and gave me her trademark sly grin as she did. Needless to say I lost focus on black jack immediately.

Sitting next to me, she was even sexier than I could have imagined. She had a hint of perfume on that drove me absolutely wild. She spent quite a bit of time shifting her body around in the seat as well. She caught me watching her as she did and her only response was to smile.

A few hands were played before she caught me looking at her again. This time though, instead of just smiling, she extended her hand to me.

"I'm Carol," she said.

"I'm Jason, it's nice to meet you."

She pulled her hand away but we kept eye contact for a fraction of a second longer.

"I saw you earlier, when you were playing at that table," I said as I pointed across the casino.

"I know," she said as she grinned and went back to playing blackjack.

Soon the teasing continued. She kept on fidgeting in her seat, making sure I noticed, running her hands over herself, arching her back, fluttering her eyes. She soon caught me looking again.

"I'm married, you know," she said without missing a beat. She kept right on playing, hardly acknowledging me or even what she just said.

Then she proceeded to take it a step further. Instead of just fidgeting in her seat, she started to brush against me. First with just her legs, and then her arms, and eventually her hands as well. I couldn't stop looking and she knew it. You could tell she got a kick out of driving me crazy.

Then the shoe ended and she stepped her teasing up a notch further as we watched the dealer shuffle the cards. This time she blatantly reached under the table and ever so slightly ran the back of her hand up and down my thigh. Her touch sent shivers throughout my entire body.

Then without warning, just as the dealer was done shuffling and the game was getting ready to start again, she leaned toward me and whispered in my ear.

"You know, I'm not wearing any panties."

She smiled slyly as she turned away and went straight to her cards. She flirted a bit as we continued playing. Finally the curiosity got the better of me.

"So where is your husband?" I asked.

"Oh, he's not here," she replied coyly.

"Oh," was all I could think of to say.

"This is a girl's night out, my husband is away for the weekend, and I'm staying at the hotel next door with my friend."

I nodded as she went back to blackjack, not entirely sure what to think.

So the game continued, her teasing me, and me lusting after her, and her enjoying every minute of it. She knew she was driving me wild and that seemed to spur her on even more. She became bolder in bolder as the night wore on and our losses mounted. By one in the morning Carol was down to her last twenty dollars. She bet it all, and then drew an obvious double down hand, but she didn't have the money ready to back it up. I put down the twenty for her, not wanting to waste a good hand. She flashed a sly smile as the dealer flipped over her card. She drew an eight giving her a total of nineteen. Before the smile even faded from her face the dealer drew to twenty-one and the game was over. But Carol didn't seem to care, she just looked at me with the same sly smile, and asked "So what do I owe you?"

Fifteen minutes later we were back in her hotel room next to the Riverboat.

I didn't waste any time. I grabbed her by the wrist and forced her over the arm of the couch. In no time she was bent over the couch, face down, ass up. I hiked her skirt up over her hips and left her bare ass and black garters staring me in the face.

SMACK!

I slapped her hard on the ass.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?"

SMACK!

I slapped her ass again.

"Yessss," she meekly said.

SMACK!

Again I smacked her ass. A hint of red was beginning to show.

"Is that what you wanted? Is this why you've been teasing me all night?"

"Yes."

By now her pussy was dripping wet. You could tell it was exciting her to be treated this way, like a bad little girl being punished for being such a tease.

SMACK!

"Do you like that?"

I spanked her again just for emphasis. She yelped a bit this time and her body seemed to jump. Before she could recover I had two fingers buried deep in her cunt. It must have taken her by surprise, as she gasped and whimpered with my touch.

"Do you like that my little slut? I bet you do."

I slid my fingers in and out of her tight hole as I asked her. She whimpered some more as I did.

"Oh yeah, you like that don't you? I bet you'd like it even more if you had my cock in your mouth wouldn't you?"

SMACK!

I took my fingers out of her pussy and slapped her on the ass again.

"Get up!" I barked. With her skirt still up around her hips, Carol got up from her position bent over on the couch. She stood meekly before me, a bit taken aback by the position her teasing put her in.

"Get on your knees," I told her. In no time she was on her knees in front of me. I wasted no time. I unbuckeld my pants and took out my cock.

"Is this what you want? Do you want to suck on this?"

She didn't answer right away. She was a bit flabbergasted by this point. I was so close to her I took my rock hard cock and slapped her face with it. That brought her back to reality.

"Is this what you want to suck?"

She nodded. Before long her lips were sliding up and down the length of my shaft. I let out a low moan. Her lips felt so soft and moist.

"Mmmmmmm. You like that don't you? You like being a little slut, on your knees sucking my cock, don't you?"

She just kept sucking. Slowly sliding her mouth back and forth along the length of my shaft. I was in heaven. It took all my concentration not to cum right then and there. You could tell she reveled in sucking my cock and was focused on the task at hand. As she continued, I stood there, running my fingers through her silky dark hair, as the pleasure in my cock ran through my entire body.

The feeling was intense as I looked down on this incredibly sexy woman, on her knees before, with the soft sensation of her warm and silky lips sliding over and around me. Slowly the sensations overtook me. My eyes rolled back in my head and my breathing became ragged. I began to whimper myself as I felt the control sift from my body. The way she moved her tongue and her lips was incredible and she knew it. As I moaned with delight she did little more than look up with a knowing smile.

It was like we were even know, her teasing from before and the hunger I felt gave way and I wanted nothing more than to please her and give her the sensations that she gave me.

Wanting so badly to touch her, to taste her, yet not wanting the incredible sensation to end, I finally managed to allow myself to push her away. I stood her up and pulled her close and pressed my lips to her neck as my hands roamed her luscious body. I reached behind her and before I was even aware of it I had her skirt unzipped and around her ankles. My hands caressed her perfect ass, and as her breathing picked up my hands gently slid along her crack.

We fell back onto the bed in a heap. Me with my white button down shirt open but still on my back. She still had on her black garter belt, bra, and high heels.

I wanted to taste her so badly. I slipped my hands between her legs to feel her wetness. She arched her back and let out a groan when I first touched her there, her hands digging into my back.

"Eat me, please...please eat me," was all she could say.

With her legs already spread wide, I put them up over my shoulders to spread them even wider as my face dove into her sopping wet cunt.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she squealed as my tongue dove deep inside her.

She tasted so sweet. I ate her like I couldn't get enough. Fucking her deep with my tongue, and then slowly pulling away and licking her gently. The alternating rhythm was driving her wild. Whenever I licked her lightly she arched her back thrust out her hips, begging for more. Whenever I fucked her wildly with my tongue, she did the same in return, thrusting her body in rhythm to meet me, grunting and moaning with abandon as she did.

"Please fuck me, please fuck me," she begged.

I continued to eat her and let my hands roam over her entire body. By now the control had shifted once again, and now she was at my mercy instead of the other way around.

"Please fuck me, please..." she whimpered.

I finally pulled away, as she reached out her hands furiously toward my head in an attempt to keep me there, not wanting the pleasure to end even for an instant as our positions changed.

Quickly I rolled her over, with her face now buried in the pillow.

"Please..." came the muffled begging.

She lifted up her ass like a dog in heat with her face buried in the pillow.

"Please fuck me...please," she said with her ass up high and her pussy waiting to be filled.

SMACK!

Again I smacked her. I wanted to see her beg some more.

"Do you want to get fucked?" I sternly said.

"Yes, please."

I smacked her ass hard again.

"Do you really want to get fucked?"

"Yes!"

"Do you want fucked hard?"

"Yes, please just fuck me. Fuck me hard. Please..."

With her last whimper begging to be fucked I positioned myself behind her and grabbed her hips. I took my cock and slowly slid it inside her tight, slick pussy. A long low moan escaped from her lips and I slid inside her cunt and then withdrew.

With my hands firmly on her hips I slid inside her again. Then out. Then in and out again. Ever so slowly I picked up my pace to the moans of pure delight emanating from Carol.

Ever deeper and faster I went with each thrust and soon her moans were interlaced with groans as she thrust her ass back to meet me. I continued to pound her from behind and soon my grunts were mixed with hers. In no time the room was filled with nothing but the incessant sounds of animalistic sex echoing off the walls.

Carol a wild mixture or moans, grunts, and whimpers combined with my own grunts, groans, and moans.

Fucking this beautiful woman was pure heaven. To look down and see her, her face buried in the pillow, and her ass straining to meet me, as my cock slid in and out of her was more than I could take.

I wanted to hold off so badly. I didn't want to cum like this. I wanted to cum together with her, face to face, and see her face wrenched in ecstascy.

I quickly withdrew my cock and immediately flipped her onto her back. In no time her legs were wrapped around me and I was pounding her again, only now we were face to face and grunting together in unison as we fucked each other.

I felt her pussy clamp around me and saw her eyes roll back into her head. Her arms around my neck began to dig into my back. She struggled to catch her breath as the intense pleasure overtook her. Her nails dug deeper into me and her pussy clenched my cock even tighter.

And soon the pleasure overwhelmed me and I was overcome with delight. An odd mixture of moans and whimpers soon replaced my rythmic grunts.

I came in a burst with her, her legs and hands squeezing me tight, my cock thrusting deep inside her. We both yelped and whimpered uncontrollably as we came, both completely out of control.

As the feeling subsided in both of us I kept thrusting deep inside of her as long as I could. Soon our breathing was returning to normal. When I couldn't continue I simply remained on top of and inside her, her arms still wrapped tightly around me. We smiled at each other and kissed again and again, basking in the glow of our pleasure.

Finally I rolled off and laid beside her, my hands continuing to trace the outline of her body. We fell asleep together, my arms wrapped around her.

I awoke in the morning to the feeling of warm, wet lips in a place I so fondly remembered from the night before. Ready and willing to do it all over again and again. 



Kansas City



Kauffman Stadium was like being in a huge stockpot sitting on a stove with the heat turned way up. Hot, humid, no breeze. The only saving graces were that it was overcast and a couple hours from sunset.

The Houston Astros were in town to play the Kansas City Royals in what turned out to be a very exciting, though low-scoring game.

The stadium sits away from the downtown area and, looking out past the center field wall gives you the sense that you are indeed in the flatlands of middle America. Prior to my trip several people had told me what a beautiful stadium this was. I found it middling at best. Due to a mechanical failure however, seeing the game here became one of my favorite baseball experiences on the trip:

There was no public address system for 4 innings. That meant no loud announcements, no blaring music, and no fake bugles urging us to "CHARGE!!" Just the natural sound of the crowd. Cheering, clapping, gasping at a great play... We even managed to sing the National Anthem together without guidance from a performer on the field. It was wonderful.

The Royals and Astros were tied 1-1 after 9 innings. In order to make a quick escape I positioned myself near the exit to watch the 10th inning. With 2 outs in the bottom of the 10th, man on 2nd, the Royals hit a bloop that fell in front of the drawn-in right fielder to win the game! I love seeing the home team win. 40,000 happy fans!

I watched the winning run score and a few seconds of the ensuing on-field celebration. But then fled out the exit to get in my car and beat the traffic. I probably had a date with Alaina that night.

Alaina and I had been chatting for several days already, since before Cincinnati. I remember this because while I was waiting for the Cincinnati game to start she asked me to send her a picture immediately. She thought I might be catfishing her. My selfie from the ballpark seemed to assure her somewhat. Alaina was still nervous about meeting me though.

We had been trying to schedule some playtime but there were several conflicts including the fact that she already had a date for tonight. At one point she suggested we meet at 5:30am on Sunday morning before I left KC. I do not feel like having sexy times at 5:30am. Ever. (Ok, maybe not "ever" but I certainly wouldn't want to schedule it for then!)

I could tell that she was intrigued by what I was proposing however and she said she was going to come over after her date, probably close to 11pm. Because she had seemed so unsure about having the encounter, I wasn't entirely convinced that she was going to show up. And when she did I wasn't entirely sure she would stay very long.

On her way Alaina had stopped at a liquor store to buy a bottle of Jameson. A little liquid courage. She walked up the path carrying the bottle...she was beautiful. She was quite fit and I enjoyed watching her hips sway as she came closer. I had wanted to kiss her when she stepped up onto the porch but I was afraid I would scare her off. Had to take it slow.

She had soft brown hair that came to her shoulders, and deep brown eyes that see into your soul. It seemed like she knew what you were thinking though it wasn't much of a challenge to figure out my thoughts tonight.

I wanted her.

And she knew it.

I welcome her inside the house and serve us some of the whiskey. Hers on the rocks. Mine neat. Small talk while sitting a friendly distance apart on the couch. And then suddenly, before I realize what was happening, she snuggles up next to me. She felt good. And then, almost in the same motion, we are kissing. Long, deep passionate kissing.

We take our drinks and head upstairs in the half-light.

I apologize for the small bed and call it "cozy". And it was. We lay down together side-by-side and resume our kissing. (I do love a good kisser!) My free hand traces a line down her body and, almost imperceptibly, she presses harder against me. My swollen manhood is already pushing against Alaina until she moves back enough to slip her hand between us and grasps me tightly. My deep moan encourages her and she continues to squeeze and stroke.

I extract myself from this pleasure because I've been waiting days to taste her. Her black jeans slip off easily followed by her panties. I selfishly dive right in with my mouth to satisfy my urge. She tastes so unbelievably sweet. She's like candy. And I cannot get enough.

Alaina has her head on the pillow, eyes closed, moaning gently as I work my tongue inside her. She's fully enjoying the experience and, moving her hips toward me, encourages increased intensity. I happily accede to her unspoken request. My fingers work their way past her outer lips and into the waiting warmth of her pussy. Alaina lets out a small gasp of pleasure. I begin stroking two fingers in and out. Her hips begin to work in rhythm with my hand. My lips seek out her swollen clit. My tongue lashes at it repeatedly. Alaina presses her hips up toward me to further increase the pressure and excitement. Her body is tensing, getting close, but she stays in that state and doesn't find release.

She wants me; I slip out of my clothes and into her. Alaina grabs onto my back with her nails. In missionary I can feel my cock hitting the the back of her pussy, filling her up. She kisses my neck with an urgency and now, for the briefest of moments, I notice her perfume and the invigorating effect it is having on me. My thrusting increases intensity. Faster. Somehow deeper, it seems.

I turn her over and place a pillow under her hips to allow for easier access to her womanhood. My cock finds its way back inside her wetness. I'm on my knees, slipping slowly in and out, watching her body, taking in her beauty. Her moaning increases as my controlled, powerful strokes continue. It seems like she's close to orgasm again. But she hangs frustratingly close to the edge once more.

I pull out of her so I can taste her again; with her hips propped up I simply kneel next to her, bend down, and begin sucking on her outer lips letting my tongue dart between them. I replace my mouth with my hand which finds her clit and tweaks it playfully before I slip two fingers inside her. This time I work my thumb in small circles into her pussy-juice-soaked asshole. I can tell this will be explosive for her in a few minutes.

My thumb goes deeper, my fingers explore as they stroke in and out. I finger fuck her harder and harder as I hear her moans reach a fever pitch.

Alaina screams!

Her body shakes and tenses.

And she lets out a deep, satisfied sigh.

We laid there together for the next few minutes as she enjoyed the afterglow and a sip of the nearly-forgotten whiskey.

In slow motion her hand reaches between my legs and she works me into yet another rock-hard erection. Soon after, for the first time, I feel Alaina's soft mouth on my cock. Her tongue swirling over my head. Her hand working my shaft up and down in a spiraling motion. I'm so close. So close! She lays back next to me, continuing to play with my cock, but with her other hand squeezes one of my nipples. HARD. Pain/pleasure races through my body. She does it again. This time for several seconds. It's an incredible sensation. Alaina suddenly ignores my cock and focuses just on my nipples. She takes one in each hand, twisting and squeezing them until my body is on fire. I take my aching cock in my hand and begin stroking myself. She continues squeezing, twisting unabated. I stroke faster. Harder. My body has never felt this intense level of pain/pleasure contrast before. I feel my orgasm building from the base of my cock. Growing, expanding, until it can no longer be contained and bursts forth in sweet release.



Kansas City Embassy Suites



Although this story is true, I have changed a few things to protect the not so innocent and to set my wife's mind at ease so she may enjoy this little bit of our history as much as she did at the time. This took place on a trip from Kansas City to the west coast. I was moving the last of my belongings back home to California, Gloria, my new girlfriend at the time flew out to drive one of my vehicles back. Sounds weird to call her a girlfriend as we are so much more than that actually then too but we were new and so girlfriend fit back then.

It had been a long two weeks but it was finally time to pick Gloria up at the airport, somehow IM on the computer just doesn't do our sex life justice. We both were so horny for each other that just taking the shuttle to my truck was a chore without attacking her. As soon as the shuttle moved to the next row we were on each other & would have made love right there in the parking lot had I not had other ideas for the rest of our time here in KC. 

We wanted to be with each other so much we both were nearly crazy with lust. On the drive south towards the city several large Hotels dot the landscape, one that I had stayed at a few years ago, seemed to be calling to me or was that the bulge in my pants? No the Embassy Suites would definitely be our first stop, a lovely place good food a good bar and what's more we were nearly 2000 miles from home. It is amazing how free that can feel, how the inhibitions melt away, and that is exactly how we both were feeling.

After check in we relaxed a bit in our room unpacked and I asked Gloria if she would come downstairs with me for a drink, she said sure but she wanted to have a bath first. I asked her if she was up for some naughty fun and asked her to shave her pussy and when she was ready meet me in the Bar.

It seemed like forever before she arrived there were several business types perched at tables, I sat at the bar. As she approached I was stunned at he beauty, it seemed as if she was floating instead of walking, her button up dress exposing those sexy legs and the look on her face made it clear she had indeed shaved for me. The looks she got from the business men around the various tables, confirmed the fact that she oozed sexuality with each step, I am sure there were hard cocks throughout the bar, mine was to be sure. 

I stood in awe and held my arm out to her and we kissed, I told her how sexy she looked and motioned to the stool next to me. Our bartender, Steve just stood cleaning a glass with a bit of a slack jaw and wide eyes. As I ordered or drinks and I could not help but stare at her beautiful breasts and feel the heat coming from her. She had that devilish look on her face that she gets when she is turned on, and the looks she was getting from the businessmen sitting around the tables confirmed I was not the only one that noticed.

We sat and gazed into each other's eyes and the unspoken lust was obvious. I laid my hand on her thigh and she moaned slightly and Steve our bartender didn't miss a thing. When the opportunity arose and I felt Gloria was relaxed a bit I slid my hand up and between her thighs, oh my God I love this! So did Gloria, her eyes slowly drooping and another moan. She told me with her eyes she wanted me to continue and I slipped a finger along her extremely wet pussy lips.

At this moment Steve asked if we were ready for a couple refills and Gloria meekly said sure and squirmed in her seat a bit and as his eyes took in her lovely breasts my fingers were caressing her sopping wetness. She was caught in a wave of excitement that she could not stop even if she wanted to, a stranger was obviously enjoying her beauty as I played with her in a way we have only done in bed. I was playing with her for what seemed like an hour and she pushed my hand away just before she climaxed and leaned over to me and kissed me softly and whispered I was bad and she loved it.

All evening we repeated this little sexual play and Steve was the consummate host and talked with us at length, all the while enjoying the view from his side of the bar. He couldn't see what my hand was doing under the bar but he certainly could surmise from the way Gloria reacted to my touching her. Before we knew it the time had come for last call for alcohol and we ordered two more.

Steve suggested that he carry our drinks up to our room for us as we might just drop them in the elevator and break his glasses, I wondered what would make him think we would drop them in the elevator?? It was impossible to keep my hands off Gloria on the slow ride up to our floor and with her head tossed back Gloria was helpless to stop my hands from exploring her body, it is a wonder Steve didn't drop the glasses.

Steve followed us into our room and I asked him to place the glasses on the table and at this point Gloria laid back on the sofa and pulled me to her wanting to continue our lustful play, Steve just stood there and I was not about to disappoint Gloria as I kissed her passionately and my hands roving all over her breasts. Most of the buttons were open and her nipples were like bullets I began to lick her breasts and found myself amazed that we were making love in front of a total stranger.

As I moved down to open her legs I wanted to lick that beautiful shaved pussy and could not stop myself and Gloria was not about to stop me either. She watched Steve as I slowly began to lick her, he was in quite a state himself and his rock hard cock was creating quite a tent in his slacks, he began to stroke himself as he watched us. Gloria was torn between the pleasure I was giving her and the view she was getting of Steve. I heard him let out a moan that told me he was cumming and at that moment Gloria let out a scream and pushed my head tight to her and as her juices flooded me I new I had to slide my cock deep into her, I came like a race horse in seconds.

The next night we ordered dinner via room service and Steve was to deliver.



Kansas City Weekend



My husband and I had decided to take a long weekend in Kansas City. Why Kansas City? He had some business there and we figured, why not let the company pay for some of the trip, and besides we'd never been there before.

We did some research on the Internet and selected a quaint hotel in one of the many "neighborhood" areas that had been updated and brought back to life. We flew in Thursday night late; the hotel suite was beautiful and had a huge whirlpool tub that you could hold a small orgy in. He got his business out of the way on Friday and by mid-afternoon we were sitting in a neat microbrewery starting our weekend.

Friday night was uneventful, other than we walked out of one of the local casinos several hundred dollars ahead, which is always a pleasant experience. Our lovemaking that night was long and slow and we drifted off to sleep perfectly content with spending the weekend together.

Saturday we were greeted with miserable weather; cold, misty and windy. Never deterred we made our way to the Country Club Plaza area of town and started cruising all of the wonderful shops there. Our purchases were mounting and the day was getting worse when we decided to go into a lady's intimate apparel store, which will remain nameless, but I bet you can guess, to find me a new garter for the evening, which we planned to spend dining and then returning to the casino with me wearing a short skirt, boots and nothing underneath so I could tease if I wanted to. As we made our way through the store we were approached by a sales clerk whose name badge identified her as Sara. Sara showed me where the garters were hidden and I selected a couple I thought would work and was getting ready to try them on when Sara asked if I'd ever been fitted for one of their bras. I hadn't and she said she would be happy to fit me since I was going to be trying on the garters anyhow. My husband just shrugged his shoulders and I said, "Why not?"

Sara led me to the dressing room area and we entered one of the biggest, nicest dressing rooms I had ever seen in a retail store. It had to be about 8 x 8 with full- length mirrors covering the walls on three sides, and an overstuffed chair in one corner. Sara asked if I would like a glass of wine and I was more than happy to accept since we'd been shopping for over four hours by now. Sara came back with a glass of a great merlot. I took a sip and complimented her on the wine. She took some measurements, asked some questions about what type of materials I liked in bras and said she'd be back in a jiffy.

Sara's image was fresh in my mind. She was 5-6 or so, I was guessing 36C, under 120, the bluest eyes you'd ever seen, short blonde hair and an impish grin that made her shine. Lovely and at the same time sultry.

I sipped some more wine, stripped totally and was trying on the garter belts when there was a soft knock on the door. I opened the door, hiding behind it and Sara walked in with several bras for me to try on. She gasped a little bit when she saw me standing there with just a garter on, my 34B tits and pink nipples standing at full erection and my trimmed pussy there for her full view. 

She blushed and started to leave and I said, "Don't leave honey, it doesn't bother me if you stay here while I try these, besides I may need some help adjusting the straps."

"You have a lovely body for a…." she said and then stopped in mid-sentence.

"For an older lady," I finished the sentence for her.

She blushed again, "No, no…it doesn't matter what your age is, you're lovely."

"Thank you, not bad for 45 if I do say so myself," I said as I turned to look directly into one of the mirrors and subconsciously started to run my hands over my breasts and then my stomach stopping just short of my pussy. I could see Sara watching me, barely breathing.

I turned around and said, "Let's try on the bras."

I tried on one and then another. The third one I really liked, black, some type of lace that was so soft to the touch. I turned to look into the mirror and asked Sara to take the straps up just a little. She walked up behind me, so close I could feel her breath on the back of my neck and I inadvertently shuddered when her fingers touched me as she adjusted the straps. I could feel the wetness oozing from my naked pussy and the sexual tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

"Do you have this in other colors," I asked.

"Yes, white, beige and pink, I believe," Sara said still standing close behind me.

I turned suddenly, causing Sara to start and said, "I will take one in each color." 

As soon as I finished speaking, I grabbed her face and pull it to me, my hot lips seeking hers. My hot tongue was met with hers and we exchanged a passionate kiss that seemed to last forever, but was over too quick.

We broke the kiss and neither of us moved. I reached behind me and quickly unsnapped the bra and then shrugged it off my shoulders, exposing my breasts to her again.

"Do you want to touch them," I asked.

She just stared into my eyes for a minute and then whispered, "Yes, oh yes I do."

I took her hands and placed them on my tits and my fully erect nipples. She very tentatively started to massage them and I cupped my hands over hers and kissed her again. By this time my juices were starting to run down my legs. I took one of her hands and lowered it too my drenched pussy and whispered, "Feel what you've done to me." 

Sara started to run her finger up and down my wet clit when there was a knock on the door, "Sara is every thing alright in there," the voice inquired.

"Oh yes maam, we're just finishing up, be out in a second," she replied startled.

"My boss," she whispered. 

"What time do you get off, honey," I asked.

"At four, soon I think," she said.

"Where can we meet and have a drink, and talk about what we both want more of."

She told me there was a nice, quiet, Irish bar around the corner and she'd be there as soon as she could. I knew she would too. 

We collected ourselves and Sara took the bras and garters with her and as she walked out the door, she said to be heard, "I will find the other bras you want and meet you at the counter."

I was so weak with anticipation it was a task to slip back into my jeans and sweater. I skipped putting the bra and panties back on, using the panties to try and clean myself up. I had no idea how long we'd been in there and when I walked out I first noticed a scowl and then a knowing smile on my husband's face. He knows me so well; he could take one look at my glow and knew I'd been up to something. I met Sara at the counter, paid for my purchases and slyly touched her hand and whispered, "Hurry."

We walked out of the store in silence. When we were outside my husband grabbed my hand and said, "You're so bad…and I love you for it."

I tiptoed up and kissed him on the cheek, and whispered, "Let's go get a drink, this could be a lovely night."

We found the bar and a booth in a corner where I could see the front door. Sara had been right, the bar was perfect, dark, heavy earth tones, just plain sexy. I ordered a double Bushnell's on the rocks and he raised an eyebrow, and said, "Oh this is going to be good."

Our drinks came and I started to give him the story of what had transpired in the dressing room. As I talked, I could almost see him getting hard under the table. I couldn't resist and slipped my hand down to his cock, which was rock hard.

As I finished the story, he said, "And…"

"And we'll find out what happens next when Sara gets here."

Sara came through the front door shortly after and stood there letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. I jumped up and almost ran to her, kissed her on the cheek and led her by the hand to our booth and let her slide in and I slid in beside her. I made the introductions and said how glad I was she came to join us. I could tell she was a little taken back with my husband there, but reassured her, "Honey, he knows I am bi and he can join us, watch us or go away…it's entirely up to you." 

She seemed to relax as the waitress came to get her drink order. 

The three of us sat and chatted and had a couple of drinks, my hand dropping down to her exposed knee and tickling her inner thigh and hers dropping between my blue jean clad lags and rubbing on my pussy. I could feel the jeans starting to get wet and was glad I had a jacket so I could walk out without the world seeing my condition. Paul was flirting with both of us and she was relaxing more and more and flirting back as well. 

It was getting dark when he finally said, "Well ladies, are we going to stay here all night or go some where to have some fun?"

We giggled and said, "Fun" in unison. 

I kissed Sara hard on the lips, by this time I could care less what anyone else at bar thought, and then asked, "Let's go to our hotel."

She nodded her head. Since we had two cars and Sara knew where we were going I rode with her as we headed back to our hotel.

"Patty, I've never had a threesome before, in fact I've only been with two other women before in my life, and that was several years ago in college," she said as we drove. "And, the truth be known, I haven't been with that many men either."

So much for how she wanted to play, which pleased me since I wanted Paul to enjoy Sara and I as much as I knew we were going to enjoy each other. 

"Don't worry honey, we'll go slow and easy, we have all night," I said.

She smiled and giggled, "And I don't have to work tomorrow."

Paul called on his cell and said he was going to make a liquor store run and for us to go on to the hotel. Sara and I strolled through the lobby arm in arm giggling about nothing, like two girl friends with a secret from the world. Our suite was like ice when we walked in and I turned the heat up quickly. Sara and I embraced to keep each other warm and that turned into passionate kissing and soon hands were flying over each other's body. We finally broke the kiss and I started to show her the suite. Her eyes got big as saucers when she saw the big whirlpool tub with mirrors on two sides and above, only a few feet away from a king-sized bed.

"Wow," she exclaimed. "That is wonderful, I've never seen a hotel with a whirlpool like that."

The room was almost dark so I switched on a lamp next to the bed and walked back over and kissed her again. Just kissing her had my heart pumping with anticipation.

"Shall we try it," I asked as I pointed to the whirlpool.

She giggled and nodded her head.

I turned the water on, grabbed her hand and led her to a mirror in front of the bed.

"You have on way to much clothing dear," I smiled.

I stood behind her, and reached around starting to pull the V-neck sweater she was wearing over her head. As I did, I got my first glimpse of her breasts; all but pouring out of the black lace bra she was wearing just like the one I had bought. I tossed the sweater unceremoniously onto the bed and reached behind her to unsnap the skirt she was wearing. It was soon lying on the floor and she stepped out of. There she stood before me in the bra and matching black bikini panties. I leaned over and kissed her neck and slowly ran my tongue down her spine and whispered in her ear. "You're lovely."

She smiled but didn't say a word. 

My hands came back around in front of her to undo the front snap bra, but not before caressing her beautiful breasts through the fabric first. Her eyes closed and she leaned back into me as I took them into my hands. I used one hand to unsnap the bra and her tits tumbled out of their confinement and into my hands. I was wrong, they were at least a D cup, with bright pink nipples that were long and instantly hard. I grabbed as much as I could with both hands and slowly massaged them. I took the nipples and started to pinch them softly and roll them between my fingers. As I did Sara pressed harder against me and moaned. I couldn't stand it any longer and let go of those luscious nipples and got on my knees and started to pull down the bikinis. I stayed on my knees as she stepped out of them and softly kissed the cheeks of her firm butt and pulled her closer to me. My hand slipped down to her pussy that I could tell was slick as a baby's and softly brushed the lips of her pussy and could feel her wetness. 

Now I had too many clothes on. I stood up and said, "your turn, but you've already seen."

We changed places and Sara literally yanked the sweater over my head and almost ripped my jeans off. Since the bra and panties had been discarded when I got dressed at the store, I stood before her totally nude. Once again, she caressed my breasts and my sensitive nipples. I couldn't stand it for long and stopped her.

The tub was full so I said, "Shall we?"

We climbed in and were instantly next to each other and locked in another smoldering kiss, our naked bodies grinding against the other in the hot water bubbling around us. 

I didn't even know Paul was back in the suite until he said, "Cosmos ladies?"

I broke the kiss and looked over and there he stood with a pitcher of my favorite drink ready for us. We both took one as he surveyed the scene.

"Is this a private party or can I join," he asked.

I watched Sara for her reaction and she looked at me. I said it was her choice. And then she whispered, "Oh yes, I want both of you."

Paul sat his drink down and started to strip in front of us next to the bubbling hot tub. We leaned back and sipped our cold cosmos.

For a 40-something he has the body of a 25-year old. He stands 6-1, weighs 190, wears the same size pants he wore when he played college football with a rock hard stomach and the tightest, cutest ass a girl could ask for. He was down to his shorts and winked at me as he slid them to the floor and stood up straight. I heard Sara gasp when she saw him totally nude. He is not huge in length, about 7 inches, but he is so thick I can't get my hand around him. Even semi-erect his cock is awesome.

"You want to feel that cock sweetie," I asked.

"Oh yes, yes I do, that's the biggest I've ever seen and it's lovely," was her half whispered, half moaned reply.

Paul walked over next to the hot tub where Sara had easy access to his sweet cock. She reached up tentatively and grasped it gently.

"Go ahead and grab it Sara, it's not going to break and it won't bite….yet," I teased.

She tried to put her hand around his girth and couldn't but slowly started to stroke it as she stared in what appeared to be amazement as it grew to its full length from her touch.

"And just think," I said. "It's ours to do with as you like."

I kissed her and she moaned as she continued to stroke Paul. He broke it off and climbed in. Now he was on one side of Sara and I the other. Sara and I were still locked in a long hard kiss when he reached up to take one of her breasts in his hand and started to tweaking her eraser length nipples which brought on more moaning. I put one of my hands between her spread legs and went straight for her slit, dispensing with every thing but getting a finger in what I knew was her hot pussy. As my finger roughly entered her she gasped and then moaned and lay back further giving me more access to her bare pussy.

I broke the kiss with Sara and leaned over her to kiss Paul. I slipped another finger into Sara and started stroking her very slowly prompting more moans. Paul released her breasts and took her face into his hands and started kissing her. I felt her hand go to my tits and sensed the other going to his now hard cock. Paul and I alternated kissing her while I stroked her pussy with my fingers and he tweaked her breasts with his hands while she stroked his cock and played with my tits.

Sara's breathing got quicker and I could feel her pussy tightening up on my fingers as she approached a climax and then she was screaming, "OHHHHHHHH, I am cummmmminnngggg" Her entire body shuddered and tensed up and she threw her head back and screamed. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" And then she was done. Her breathing was labored and she grabbed our hands, and pushed them away, saying, "Stop, oh please stop I can't stand any more, please."

Reluctantly we both stopped. I gave her a quick kiss and took a huge sip from my drink. Paul climbed out, retrieved his and lit a cigarette and rejoined us in the pool. Sara was lying back against the edge; her eyes closed still breathing hard. Paul leaned over and kissed me hard and then we laid back and enjoyed the hot water ourselves.

Sara finally started breathing normal, opened her eyes and downed half her drink and then smiled at us.

"What can I say," she said. "That was the most awesome feeling I've ever had in my life."

Neither of us said anything, just smiled. Finally I said, "And the night has just begun."

I stood up and moved to where my pussy was right in front of Sara's face and asked, "You want to eat that sweet pussy of mine, don't you?"

Sara just nodded and I reached out with both hands and brought her face into my throbbing pussy and her tongue instantly started to pry my wet lips apart. As her tongue hit between the velvet folds the first time I gasped and my knees buckled and I pulled her closer, "Eat me baby, eat me."

Sara's tongue was hungrily devouring my pussy and licking my now exposed clit and I knew I wouldn't last long and started to move my hips to fuck her tongue even harder. I heard her moan and then shudder and knew Paul was doing something to her but I was too far gone to look or care. Out of my deepest recesses I felt the climax start to build and my moans became louder and louder and I could feel Sara moaning into my pussy as she was experiencing pleasure from Paul.

And then it happened. I started to tremble from my toes up, my hands pushing Sara into my now flooding pussy and I was over the top, shaking so bad I knew I couldn't stand up much longer. The torrents of pleasure rushed through me like an electric current producing a tingling feeling in every nerve in my body. I finally had to pull her face away and almost feel back down into the tub between her spread legs in time to watch her face as her climax approached from the fingering Paul had been giving her.

As I lay there trying to collect myself, Sara cried out, "Fuck me, oh please, please fuck me!"

Paul pulled his fingers out of her red-hot pussy and moved her over to sit in his lap and gently slid her down the length of his hard cock. She screamed as his cock entered her under water, not given the natural lubrication she would normally have, "Oh fuck, it's huge, I don't know if I can take it."

In one move, Paul pulled her down hard, ramming the entire length and width of that beautiful tool all the way into her. I watched as her mouth flew open, but no sound came out and her eyes were as wide as saucers as he used the natural buoyancy of the water to help move her up and down the length. She was leaning toward me and I reached over and grabbed one of her luscious tits with my hand and started to kiss and nipple on the nipple of the other.

As Paul was fucking her deep and I was sucking her tits her voice came back, "Oh fuck is this wonderful, oh damn it, this is too much, shit give me that beautiful cock, fill me up with it baby….oh suck my titties Patty, suck my titties….oh damn I am going to cum again, I am going to cum againnnnn…."

The screams that followed startled me and I was afraid might bring hotel security banging on our door as Sara started to climax and force herself down on Paul's cock. riding it for all she was worth. She finally stopped screaming and fell into my arms. Spent, on the verge of passing out from the pleasure and the hot water, Paul picked her up and carried her over to the bed where he laid her down very gently. I brought her a glass of water and a cool cloth and wiped her brow.

She opened her eyes and tried to smile, "My God, that was incredible, that cock is so big…" and then she drifted off.




Kansas City Weekend



Paul was standing there next to me and I could see his raging hard on. Poor baby had fucked Sara cross-eyed but had no pleasure for himself.

I bent over the bed, spread my legs and looked back at him, "Fuck me baby, fuck my hot pussy, you deserve my hot, hot pussy."

Almost before I could finish the sentence, Paul had filled me full of his cock. After all the years of our love making, he still took my breath away every time he put that massive thing inside of me and this time was no different. 

We got into a steady rhythm as his cock dove deeper and deeper into my pussy, my wetness seeping down my legs. I was leaning just over Sara's pussy and I could see her juices still flowing out of her redden slit. She opened her eyes and was watching me getting fucked hard. She moved around in the bed to where her face was next to mine and started to kiss me and then started to play with my tits that were bouncing from the pounding I was getting from behind. She broke the kiss and started to suck on one nipple and then the other and I knew I wouldn't last long and didn't as the first waves of orgasm started to rush over me and came in waves that seemed like they would never end. I was coming down from one of the massive climaxes when I felt Paul's thick cock getting thicker and I knew he was getting ready to flood me with his hot cum and then I could feel him squirting buckets of his hot cum up into me and felt him trembling behind me. He continued to pound me until he was spent, pulled out and we both collapsed on the bed. 

Instantly Sara was between his legs with his half limp cock in her mouth cleaning him up. When she had finished with Paul she went between my legs and started to lick his sweet cum and my juices as they seeped out of my slit. I closed my eyes and must have drifted off with pleasure.

I don't know how long I was out but when I came to my senses, Sara was laying between Paul and I on the bed. I looked at her and smiled, "God she is beautiful" I thought "and so young and hot."

Paul came too, leaned over Sara and kissed me hard.

"Think we should order some food," he asked with a devilish smile. "I think we're going to need our energy for the rest of the night.

I nodded and he got up and slipped on a robe from the bathroom.

"Why don't you and Sara take a shower and I will order some steaks from room service."

He left the room and I leaned over to kiss Sara and she began to come back to life.

"Oh Patty, this is incredible," she whispered. "I've never come close to feeling like this. Please tell me it's not over. Please."

I kissed her hard again, and said, "No sweetie, it's not over. The night is young. Paul is ordering some food. Let's take a shower and get ready to eat…some steak and then we can get back to our pleasure."

She stood up, took my hand and led me to the bathroom. As we stepped into the shower and Sara started to lather me with soap I thought, "Kansas City is going to be high on our list of places to visit from now on…or should we just take Sara home with us? Now that was a thought."