19 comments/ 141765 views/ 42 favorites Pleasure Upon Request By: pseudonym2005 Author's Note: This story is an original work of fiction. All characters appearing herein are at least eighteen, if not expressly stated. Future stories starring some or all of these characters might also be forthcoming based upon response and demand. Certain characters featured herein may also be found in other works by the authors. Feedback is desired and greatly appreciated. Email comments to the address in our profile. Thank you for reading. Copyright 2010 by Jack and Josephine Cutter. This story stars: Richard Cannon, Alyssa Hicks, and Douglas and Sadie Stillman. This story contains: erotic male-female couplings, fellatio, cunnilingus, anal, analingus, spanking, rough sex, shower sex, voyeurism, fetishes, shaving, first-person narrative, and a large degree of story and dialogue amidst the sex. This story begins post-prologue on Sunday, July 24th. * * * * * It would take her some time to prepare. She twisted the knob and the nozzle spurted once, twice, thrice before a steady spray erupted from its end, and in the span of time before the water of the shower warmed, she turned to look at herself in the mirror. She gazed into the depths of her bright blue eyes, searching for strength, looking for doubt, and found none of the latter and all of the former written in the features of her face. This would likely prove her last real chance to reconsider, and yet she said nothing. She did not want to, for one, although there were many reasons, most unselfish. Her eyes lowered; she exercised regularly and worked hard to eat healthy, and her body certainly reaped the benefits. She knew hers was a fantastic figure. Her blonde hair, too, she took care of, and her teeth and her nails. She was not vain, not even close, but she did like to look good. She turned and stepped into the shower. The hot water gushed over her skin and she sighed, and let the wetness run in rivulets down her flesh, flowing over her curves and into all the tucked away cracks and crevices of her form, dousing her every inch. She closed her eyes and slipped her face under the fountain, and reveled in the feel of the spray upon her skin. She reached for the bottle of shampoo to initiate the cleansing process, scented Pantene Pro-V. Gently, methodically, she worked the thick substance into her natural golden blonde hair, massaging her scalp with her fingers, digging the hair-soap in deep. She did not linger, however; shampoo was designed to clean, while conditioner proved the more important to giving her soft, silken hair. Having rinsed all of the shampoo out, she applied conditioner to her blonde locks and kneaded it deep, too; it would remain coating her hair until the end of her shower, giving it time to work. She grabbed the body soap and fingers caressed the cleanser into her skin, gliding easily over her flesh, and her nipples hardened suddenly and quite unexpectedly. It appeared she was anticipating her coming rendezvous more than she realized. The soap bar slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor, and as she bent to retrieve it a thick stream of water flowed down the her back and into the channel between the bubbles of her ass. It gushed over the crinkled plot of her anus and into the pursed folds below, then plunged to oblivion below as gravity took hold. She shivered, and smiled. She picked up the soap and began to wash her legs, rising higher and higher, rubbing the soap delicately into her skin, relishing the simple sensations. She let slip a moan as her hands roamed over her slick breasts, her palms teasing her pointed nipples. Excited, it seemed, was an understatement. She rinsed off, the soapy suds coursing away in rivers over her flesh. She reached for her razor and cream and spurted the latter into her hand, and applied the white foam liberally to her legs. She preferred to shave leisurely, to take her time, and so slowly she drew the razor along her skin until every inch of her legs was soft and smooth. There were no cuts and no straggler hairs to speak of. She moved onto the next item on her little preparation agenda; she took another handful of shaving cream and lathered it between her legs. Slowly, ever slowly, she worked the blade across her nether region. She kept a thin landing strip of hair, trimmed and neat, just enough for the sake of appearances; most men she knew enjoyed a little bit of hair. She tugged at the lips of her labia and moved ever-so-carefully to ensure they, however, were totally hairless. Once the front was shaved to her satisfaction, she bent and dabbed a bit of shaving cream between the cheeks of her ass, around her anus. There were very light, very small, very fine hairs in that region, too, but she preferred herself completely clean in back. And so she finished herself off and rinsed the conditioner from her hair, and stepped from the shower. There were soft cotton towels hanging by the shower door; she pulled one down and dried off, then wrapped her hair in her towel to stand naked before the mirror once more. This was one of the more important steps in the shaving process, one often overlooked: the oil phase. With great care she spread generous amounts of baby oil down and around her legs, massaging the lubrication into her damp and welcoming skin, and then into the lips of her pussy and between the cheeks of her ass. And once she was finished and the lower half of her body was soft and clean, and her body was dry of oil and water, she stepped from the bathroom and into the bedroom, where her white silk robe awaited, the donning of which would be her final act before the events of the night began. Part One: Questions When my friend first asked me to have sex with his wife, I thought he was joking. After all, why would a man allow another man access to the body of his beautiful wife? It happened on a Sunday in the dog days of July, hot outside and hot inside, and what else is there to do for a couple of guys on a summer weekend made lazy by heat than to hang out and watch a little baseball. Doug had a nice house with an excellent sixty-two-inch high-def television and the Dodgers were beating the hated Giants by three runs in the bottom of the fifth, which meant our spirits were high. Perhaps it was the camaraderie such a situation inspires. Perhaps my friend put back a few too many beers. Perhaps it was something else entirely. I would come to know the truth, of course, but when it first happened there was little else I could think of to account for it; why, after all, would a good and loving husband let someone sleep with his wife? The catalyst, of course, was the arrival of the woman herself. Sadie is one of those women who catches your eye no matter what she's doing, no matter what she's wearing, no matter who she's with. She's as equally stunning in frocks or sweats as she is in formal wear, with or without makeup; she would shine standing next to supermodels. She's the kind of woman who makes other women jealous, her appeal undeniable, her beauty fresh and all-embracing, and effortless. Her workout winding down, she swept into the room and found me perched next to her husband on the couch. She was dressed in white tennis shoes, white socks, maroon micro-shorts, and a tight maroon-and-gold shirt with the words Sun Devils written across the front. Her blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail and a thin layer of perspiration coated her flawless skin. Doug, simply stated, was a very lucky man. There was amusement sparkling in her bright blue eyes as she flashed a winning smile our way; truly, she was gorgeous. "Rough day today, huh, boys?" she teased, her voice light and musical. I smiled back, never one to pass up the opportunity to flirt with a beautiful woman. "If you've got a better idea, my dear," I said friskily, "we might be willing to tear ourselves away." Her laugh was cheerful and warm. "Maybe later," she chirped, grinning as she spun on her heels and made her way for the door, adding just before she turned the corner, "maybe not!" I turned to Doug after she was gone, and said, "She's a great girl, Doug. You're a lucky man." It was then that the first flicker crossed his face, the first visible hint of thoughts that would lead us down our current path, although at the time I thought little of it. "She's beautiful," he said quietly, looking at me with more than a little curiosity. "Yes," I agreed. "She's adventurous," he added, also in a low voice. "Yes," I agreed again, as Sadie was both of those things and then some. Doug was quiet a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but now held a clear hint of apprehension. "What would you do if you got your hands on a woman like Sadie?" I was surprised by the question, but it did not seem too far out of bounds between a couple of good friends. Strange, yes, but not out of bounds. "Well, my friend," I answered soberly, "I suppose the answer is . . . what wouldn't I do with my hands on a woman like Sadie." There was another long pause, and then Doug asked softly, "What if you had the chance?" It was at this point where I burst out laughing. "Point me to the door!" I replied, failing to see the expression on his face or hear the seriousness in his voice, and thinking he was joking. In my defense, how could I have known, truly, that he was not? He seemed to flush and look away quickly, and looking back on the situation, it was clear what had happened and what was going through his mind: he realized I assumed he was joking and, embarrassed, sought to pretend my assumption was correct. At the time, of course, it worked, and I gave it no further thought . . . until the topic arose a second time a few days later and I realized something strange was going on. It was a double date, Doug and Sadie and myself and Alyssa, the pert redhead with whom I have a close-friend-slash-casual-dating relationship. We hit up Café Montenegro, a swank always-busy restaurant in Beverly Hills that was considered one of the longest-tenured city hot spots. A friend of mine is old friends with the manager of the establishment, which means an otherwise impossible reservation to get can be obtained with the simple dropping of a name. The girls looked gorgeous, dressed very much to impress. Alyssa wore a shimmery red form-fitting number that ended just past her bottom, showing off nearly all of her exceptional legs and cut low in the back to show a great deal of spine. Her figure was petite, her breasts little more than baseballs, but her ass could stop traffic and she looked great in anything, and even better naked, which I can tell you from significant personal experience. Her strawberry hair was layered in long curling strands that fell down about her shoulders, her eyes the lightest shade of green, her skin pale with just a smattering of freckles, her features youthful and wholesome; in short, a beautiful woman in a cute take-her-home-to-mom kind of way. While Alyssa was cute and sexy, however, it was tough to hold a candle when paired with Sadie, who was simply ravishing: black knee-high boots with three-inch heels, short black mini-skirt, and a bright blue short-sleeve silk blouse. Her blonde hair was half-up, half-down, swept back around into a partial ponytail with loose tendrils fluttering around her slender neck. Her baby blue eyes sparkled and her smile lit up the room. She was, in a word, gorgeous. We would be splitting off after dinner, Doug and Sadie headed to a comedy club while Alyssa and I checked out one of the popular new nightspots in Hollywood, so we made the most of our time together with spirited conversation, laughs, and lots of booze. The moment came when the girls were gone from the table, having left together as girls usually do in search of the restroom. We were quiet for long moments after they left, sipping our cocktails, before Doug got us going. "How do you do it, Ricky?" he asked. My name, it should be pointed out, is Richard Cannon, and for the sake of convenience allow me to describe myself. I'm six-foot-four with a lean build, blonde hair, blue eyes, and the proud bearer of perpetual stubble, kept neat at the edges. I grew up in Tennessee, came out to Southern California for college with the rest of my family in tow, and never left. I'm a freelance writer with a number of columns going in various publications, which gives me a good measure of control over my own schedule, which is nice. "Do what?" I asked. "Let Alyssa sleep with other guys," he said, looking off in the direction of the restrooms. I shrugged. "We're not together," I said. "She can sleep with whomever she likes." Doug turned to look at me. "Don't you get jealous?" It was not a surprising question; honestly, I'd heard it before. I wondered sometimes why it was so difficult for some people to understand, why treating a woman the same way women were expected to treat men was such a revolutionary proposition. "I love the girl and think she's great," I told him, trying as best I could to explain it, "but we're not exclusive and I don't think either of us really wants to be at this point. I'm twenty-six and she's only twenty-five, and she's just getting her career started. We have a good time together, and that's enough; very close friends with some very nice benefits." "What if she wants more?" he pressed. I shrugged again. "I would respect her enough to give us the opportunity to see if it could work, if she wants, but I think both of us understand deep down that we probably wouldn't work. I'm too selfish and she's too giving; I'm not sure I could make her as happy as she deserves." "Knowing this," my friend wondered, "she still sleeps with you?" "Oh, yes," I replied with a grin. "We're very good together in bed. She's enthusiastic and fearless, which I love. She'll try almost anything and we have a lot of fun together." He looked away and said softly, "Sadie is the same way." "Good!" He was silent another long moment and there was a strange sort of look upon his face. "We're thinking about . . . trying new things," he said, even softer. "Good!" I exclaimed again, and meant it. "Variety is the spice of life. I should think playing out your fantasies with your wife is a healthy thing." He looked at me with that same strange expression. "What if they involve other people?" he asked, and this time his voice was so soft, I had to strain to hear it. I never got the chance to answer. The women returned and reclaimed the conversation almost immediately, which meant there would be no further talk on the matter. It was clear, the way he jumped into discussion with the women, that Doug was happy to be changing subjects, despite the fact that he was the one to initiate it. I followed suit, putting aside thoughts of his questions, storing them for later. There were beautiful women to attend to, after all, and that was more than enough for me. * * * Alyssa collapsed to her stomach on the mattress, limbs sprawled, flesh glistening with a layer of perspiration quite heavy after more than sixty minutes of sex. I gazed down upon her, upon the wild nest of strawberry hair, upon the sleek and slender back, upon the heart-shaped bottom so perfectly round and tight it brought to mind an old saying about bouncing quarters. Her legs were spread wide thanks to my position between them, which granted a wonderful view of the swollen, saturated lips of her pussy and the pulsating plot of her anus, closing rapidly and oozing a steady stream of thick white fluid. It was lovely, enough to elicit a happy sigh and another shudder of pleasure before I toppled forward to join her on the bed, twisting as I fell to lay on my back at her side. She opened her eyes, so brilliantly, beautifully green, and smiled as she looked at me. "I can hardly see straight," she murmured wearily. "I think you just fucked me silly." I chuckled and leaned forward, kissed her forehead, and said, "It was my pleasure." It was also exactly what she wanted. Alyssa was enthusiastic and fearless, but more than that she knew exactly what she wanted and was never afraid to ask for it. It was one of my favorite things about her and something, I knew, that would make her future husband very happy one day. Of course, I did not mind holding down the fort until that man joined the picture. "I want you to fuck me silly," she had ordered me earlier as she kicked off her shoes in the bedroom of my apartment. "I want you to fuck me as hard as you can. I want you to fuck me in every hole I have. I want you to fuck me as deep as it will go." I ripped my shirt up over my head, perhaps a little too fiercely as I heard a button land somewhere nearby. Not that I cared, really, about the button; when faced with the prospect of willing female flesh ready to satisfy my every whim and carnal desire, few things outside the bubble of that fact tended to matter. Alyssa grinned and her light green eyes twinkled as she took hold of the bottom of her shimmery red dress, crossing her arms down as she stripped the garment up and over her head with incredible skill and dexterity. The twenty-five year-old's thong was fire-engine red, too, and drew the focus of my gaze for a moment before I realized she was not wearing a bra; her pert breasts plopped down into their excellent places, handful-sized mounds that looked larger on her petite frame than their actual size would suggest, the shriveled pink nipples delectable-looking. Her pale skin had just a smattering of freckles upon it. "Keep going," I told her. And with that she shimmied out of her panties, leaving her totally and gloriously naked. Her figure was lean; she was a former competitive soccer player, after all. She vaulted onto the bed and spread her legs wide to display with breathtaking agility her glistening pink folds, perched beneath a swath of the softest, finest strawberry-colored pubic hair known to man, trimmed in the shape of a triangle. "You," she ordered simply, pointing at my lower half. I wasted little time; my pants and the rest of my clothes went flying. I launched myself onto the bed, surprising her with the speed of my attack, and she squealed with a big goofy grin on her face. The grin, of course, did not last long; my lips snared hers as my weight fell upon her and my hand went right between her legs, spreading her labia as I guided my cock to it. Sometimes, a man just wants to fuck. Sometimes, a woman does, too. Her eyes fluttered and her breath caught as the mushroom head slipped inside, but her hands were active and encouraging, cupping my buttocks and pulling me closer, trying to get me deeper inside. "Wait," she purred breathlessly, reconsidering, and her hands moved as she lifted her legs and hooked her feet up around and behind my neck, plunging me deeper. She was now bent practically in half; the position is one of Alyssa's favorites. "Now . . . fuck me!" And then I was thrusting and her hips were bucking and the familiar rhythm of our fucking was developed, and the squishing sound of my cock as it gouged out her pussy echoed through the air. Alyssa moaned. "Oh my god," she cooed. I reached under and clutched the firm cheeks of her ass, which was truly one of the finest I'd ever had the pleasure of experiencing, and lifted her up off the mattress until only her shoulders remained, her back curved lewdly and her stomach bunched up on itself. I looked down and enjoyed the way the girth of my cock stretched her pink lips wide, her pert little breasts bouncing in time with each downward stroke. She whimpered and her head lolled back as she settled in for the long haul; she knew just how long I liked to fuck. This night, however, I had another plan in mind. "Cum, baby," I told her, reaching down to strum her clitoris. "I've got a few inside me tonight and I'm taking you with me." Pleasure Upon Request My fingers and words had an instantaneous effect. The redhead began to tremble, a tremor that began at the tips of her toes and spread through the whole of her frame as she neared her climax. Alyssa had described her orgasms to me before; they were thunderous sensations that rolled through her entire body. Her moans were broken only by her gasps until she finally came and all sound ceased, her mouth open in a wordless scream, her legs squeezing my neck and threatening to strangle me even as her sex convulsed and tightened around my cock, and her body shuddered for several long moments before it relaxed. Which is when I let myself go, wanting to pop quickly the first time to prepare for bigger and better things, and no sooner had she melted into the bed, her legs slipping from my shoulders to fall limply back to the mattress, than I yanked my cock from her soupy insides and erupted, painting her tits and stomach with my creamy seed. I collapsed to the bed next to her. "You've got two minutes," I warned. Alyssa lifted her head and a wicked sort of grin crept over her face. "Two minutes," she asked, "or what?" I did not smile back and my voice was firm. "You'll have to test me to find out," I said soberly. She giggled. "I just might," she said, pushing herself out of bed. She scurried into the bathroom, that luscious little ass of hers wiggling, and returned three minutes later clean as a whistle. "You're late," I told her flatly. She shrugged. It had been some time since we played one of these sort of games; we were both adventurous, dominant sorts of personalities when it came to sex, but with each other it was often collaborative more than anything else. We've had a few power plays in the past, however, though not in some time, and it was fun and exciting to try it again. I glared at her. There was very little anger in me, so when I chose to affect fury clearly upon my face, it usually gave me what I wanted from those who know me well. This situation was no different: Alyssa wilted before me, her submission complete. I pointed at my limp cock and she took the hint, crawling onto the bed and then between my legs. She tenderly took my deflated cock into her mouth and licked and caressed it with her tongue, slurping and sucking the life back into me. "Come here," I told her, and she knew exactly what I meant. As she nuzzled my balls with her nose, she curled her body around and straddled my head, knees on either side, and deposited her still-glistening pussy over my face. It was a beautiful pussy, I had to admit, with pursed pink folds and hairless outer lips. It looked and smelled wonderful, and I knew from experience how fantastic it tasted. Leisurely at first, almost lovingly, she suckled and teased my cock with her lips and mouth and hands as I tickled her folds with my tongue and fingers. Her torso twisted this way and that as she gobbled me from different angles, all of them wonderful. Needless to say, I was hard in no time. My hands on her sides directed her to roll off and turn to her side, and I spooned up behind her, one arm encircling her from the top with my hand cupping one of her breasts. My groin pressed into her rump and she lifted her leg, knowing what I wanted, and reached down, knowing what to do about it. She took hold of my erection and guided it to the entrance of her sex. I sighed as I slipped into her. My hand left her breast and trailed over the curve of her hip and down between her legs, and once more I strummed her clitoris with my fingers. The redhead moaned and wiggled her hips, pushing her bottom back against me, driving me deeper. This was one of my favorite positions, designed to give me control while allowing my hands some freedom; it was also designed to prolong fucking for a long time, for I was rarely able to cum while engaged in it. Which meant Alyssa built slowly towards her second orgasm, while I did not. I'll never know if she guessed my motives and went along with them or neglected to remember the little power game from earlier after our round of skillful mutual oral sex, but the sequence of events that followed played exactly as I envisioned, and proved like taking candy from a baby. It was long minutes before Alyssa gasped and quieted, body frozen, done in by my cock in her snatch and my fingers on her clit. She whimpered and quaked and melted back into me, and the climax began. She creamed all over my cock, the muscles of her vagina twitching so fiercely, so pleasurably that I was forced for a moment to remain calm and control myself. She shuddered and subsided, and moved into the realm of hazy afterglow. Which was right where I wanted her. The next thing she knew, coming to her senses, was a new position; I had deftly and gently maneuvered her into a downward-dog, yoga-esque position, her head and shoulders on the mattress, her arms splayed out to the sides, her knees bunched under her midsection with her ass high and upturned in the air. From behind, her beautiful pink pussy, twice ravaged this night by orgasm, was fully exposed, puffy and still twitching, and slick. Whack! I leveled a crushing blow to the bare flesh of her bottom. Alyssa's light green eyes flew open and she squealed in shock and pain, and before she could speak, I did it again. Whack! "I told you not to test me," I growled. "You told me what you wanted earlier. I'm going to give it to you." Alyssa hesitated, which was another small victory; it was tough to throw the intelligent young woman off her game. "I . . . I . . ." she stammered, her breaths quick and ragged as she struggled to answer. Whack! I landed another cruel blow across her backside, stinging her fiercely, and the sound of the skin of my palm swatting the skin of her bottom was like music to my ears. "Say it," I ordered. Her voice was low and hoarse. "Fuck me," she whispered, doing the best she could. Whack! "Ahhhhhh!" she wailed, her flesh burning. "Fuck me!" I leaned in, my breath hot in her ear as my fingers delved deeply into her lovely pink pussy once more, this time from behind, spreading her velvety labia, and slipped into her vagina. She stiffened in pleasure and groaned loudly. "Louder!" I cried. "FUCK ME GOD DAMN IT YOU FUCKING FUCKER!" I grinned; it was perfect. Her body squirmed and writhed with intense arousal, shuddering wildly, and I loved it: my fingers left her pussy and my hands grabbed a hold of her waist, squeezing tight, and then I saw and felt her body tense with anticipation in its bent over position, the juices from her swollen cunt dripping down her thighs. My hands were on her ass cheeks and my thumbs curled inward to pull them wide, and I guided the tip of my cock between the tight folds of her pussy for the third time, and with one brutally abrupt motion rammed myself home. I absolutely impaled the girl, shoving myself completely inside until my own pubic hair tickled the flesh of her upturned ass and my balls rested snugly against her trimmed swath of fine red pubic hair. Alyssa whimpered as I violated her, splitting her in two, crushing her utterly. "Oh my god," she cried, "oh god . . . oh god . . . oh god . . . OH MY FUCKING GOD!" I just grinned and growled, and went back to fucking her. Her pussy milked my cock, sucking fiercely, begging it deeper, but sadly 'twas not to be. Alyssa whimpered as she pulled my erection out of her sopping wet pussy without warning and when the ridge of my mushroom crown appeared, I held her in check, pausing, relishing the sight of the vast majority of my meat jutting lewdly from a pretty pink pussy, its rubbery folds stretched around the head. And then I took both her hips in my hands and stuffed the full length of myself back inside, thrusting slow at first but then harder and harder and harder with every stroke. Alyssa bellowed, although it was difficult to make out her words, but she did manage to work hard enough to meet me thrust for thrust, grinding her sweet and supple bottom back against me in an erotic collision of flesh and pelvic bone, her flesh rippling lewdly. I grunted, hammering away at my gorgeous little redheaded firebrand, kneading her bottom with my palms, spreading the cheeks as wide apart as they could go, loving the way her puckered anus winked up at me as I did so. I grinned as my right hand released her cheek and rose and fell once more upon it, swatting her rump with far more gentility than I had previously shown. Alyssa's head whipped around, strawberry hair spinning in a wild arc, and she glared at me from over her shoulder. Her light green eyes positively smoldered. "Spank my ass!" she hissed. "Spank me harder!" I growled and spanked her again, much harder this time as I pounded her from behind. Her pussy stretched wide around the thickness of my cock, her insides tugged out with every withdrawal. "Spank me, Ricky!" she screamed. "Fuck me! Spank me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" I used both hands on her bottom now, driving my cock into her velvety depths without any stabilizing support. I whacked at her cheeks, alternating between the two with a rapid flurry of blows until her pale skin was dark crimson. Her screams and wails fell to grunts and groans. "Unnhh," she grunted as I slammed into her, shredding her. "Unnhhh . . . oh my god . . . unnhh . . . aahhh . . . oh my god . . . oh my god . . . oh my god . . . OH MY FUCKING GOD!" And then she froze once more in that familiar way as orgasm wrecked her for the third time that night, her face locked in a gorgeous grimace of bliss. I impaled her again and again, thrashing and unforgiving as I stuffed it repeatedly into her. She creamed all over my cock and the warm pink walls of her insides twitched and clutched at my shaft as they quivered, wrecked. "Oh my god . . ." the redheaded beauty wept as tears of overwhelming pleasure filled her eyes. It was not, however, until she crested the heights of her climax that I unleashed my final assault, to which end I had been maneuvering her for the better part of our encounter. My fingers took up residence again upon the firm flesh of her bottom, pulling the cheeks apart. And then I yanked out my cock and angled it higher as she whimpered from the loss, slipping it deep into the crack of her ass and against the wrinkled little hole at its center, and before she knew just what was happening, the mushroom head burst through the tight sphincter of her anus and slithered its way into her bowels. "FFFUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK!" Alyssa bawled, her eyes squeezing shut as she reacted to the pain. She wiggled her hips, but I clutched them fiercely and heaved forward, shoving everything I had inside her burning back passage, bottoming out. I must be honest with you: Alyssa's ass is absolutely exquisite and one of the finest sensations in life is to be buried balls deep inside it. I groaned as the heat and compression thoroughly worked me over and it was everything I could do to evade blowing too soon. "Oh my fucking god!" the dirty-mouthed redhead breathed, her wail turned now to whisper. This brutal fucking of her ass continued for as long as I could manage, precious minutes all. At some point Alyssa began screaming at me to fuck her harder, ream her deeper, to split her ass open, and it was probably the torrent of filthiness churning out of her mouth that finally sent me hurtling over the edge and into the abyss. The load I spewed into her was incredible, even after having blown one already earlier that night. Waves of hot white spunk splashed into her bowels, tickling her from the inside out, filling them. I grunted as my thrusts slackened; I was losing power after such an amazing performance, but I kept my cock embedded in her ass, ensuring every ounce of my seed found was deposited inside. Finally, at long last, I knew my well had run dry, and I pulled my deflating cock out of her asshole with a squishy plop, and heaved a heavy sigh. Alyssa fell forward with a sigh of her own, lying flat on her stomach on the mattress, limbs sprawled, flesh glistening with a heavy layer of sweat after more than an hour of fucking. I gazed down upon her, upon the wild nest of strawberry hair, upon the sleek and slender back, upon the gorgeous bottom. Her legs were spread and the puffy lips of her pussy were easy to see, as was the still pulsating plot of her anus. The hole was red and raw, still gaping but closing rapidly, and oozing a steady stream of thick white fluid. The sight was lewd, and glorious, so I sighed and shuddered and then fell forward to join her, lying on my back next to her on the bed. She opened those lovely light green eyes and looked at me, and smiled. "I can hardly see straight," she murmured wearily. "I think you just fucked me silly." "It was my pleasure," I replied with a little laugh, then kissed her forehead. Her smile widened. "I'm sure it was," she purred. "Twice, actually." "You're very good," I told her. "How is a man supposed to resist?" She giggled, and rolled it into a contented sort of sigh. "Thanks for tonight," she said. "All of it, I mean, not just the sex. It's just what I needed." "You've been busy," I told her. She sighed again. "I know, I've been working so hard. We haven't seen each other much lately." Alyssa was a first-year lawyer with a prestigious law firm downtown, Barnes McCallum, and as a first-year lawyer, she was burning the candle at both ends. Simply stated, the girl did not have a lot of free time. "You know you can call me anytime." "I know," she said, "and I know you've called me and I always seem to have something to do. My schedule is unpredictable at best. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't seen any of my girl friends, either; it feels like forever since I last spent time with Sadie." The little tickle in the back of my mind surged, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, at the mention of Doug's wife, and I found my thoughts drifting back to his questions from earlier that night. "How did Sadie seem tonight?" I asked. Alyssa looked curiously at me. "How did she seem? Fine, I guess. Why?" I shrugged. "Doug asked me some strange questions while you two were away from the table. I'm sure it's nothing, I just wondered if Sadie had done the same." "No," she told me, "nothing strange. What kind of questions?" "Sex questions," I replied. Alyssa giggled. "Well, we always talk about sex, so coming from Sadie that's not strange at all, but the stuff we talked about tonight wasn't weird or anything." "Maybe I misread things," I said after a long moment. I looked at her sweaty body and added, "Let's get cleaned up. A shower with a beautiful redhead sounds mighty nice right about now." Alyssa smiled wearily. "Ok, stud," she said, then warned, "but no more sex. I'm going to be sore enough as it is tomorrow." I grinned. "How about another blowjob?" She giggled. "Maybe," she cooed, "if you behave." She rose gingerly from the bed, taking care not to let too much of my cum contact the sheets, catching it with her hand, and I followed her into the bathroom where the warm and soothing shower awaited. Still, my mind was not settled. It was clear Doug had been going somewhere with his questions; there was something more, I thought, beneath the surface. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I'd misread the situation, but for some reason I did not think that was the case. As it turned out, I was right. Part Two: Answers She called me Tuesday morning, early enough to ensure I was available for lunch, and we met up at noon at a place called the Apple Dish near the bluffs in Santa Monica. I'd never been there as the restaurant had only been open a few months, but Sadie said it was a great little spot. She'd been cryptic on the phone, asking only that I meet her, and giving little else. While Sadie and I were good friends and had eaten together many times over the past couple of years, with Doug and on random occasion without Doug, this particular time seemed different. She looked radiant, as always, in a tasteful white knee-length sundress belted at the waist with a pale blue band and an oversized silver buckle, and spaghetti-style straps at the top. It revealed little cleavage, but the swell of her breasts was prominent and the slender curve of her neck into her shoulders was on wonderful display. Her blonde hair was fully down, silken and straight where it fell between her shoulder blades, and her blue eyes were bright and sparkling. It was her smile, however, that gave me pause. She was smiling, yes, but it was a flickering smile, a trembling smile; she was working hard to keep it in place. I did not mention it as we embraced and said our greetings, but prepared myself for anything and everything to come about at lunch, for what seemed likely to be an unusual conversation. It did not take long for things to move in that direction; her smile faltered, then faded, almost as soon as we reached the table, and I took it upon myself to nudge Sadie forward. "Whatever you need to say, Sadie," I said as soothingly as I could, "I'm here." She looked at me for a long moment, then smiled again, and this time the smile touched her eyes for the briefest instant. "I know that Doug has been acting strangely lately," she said, sipping her water to get her started, "and I know he has asked you some interesting questions. You may have wondered where it was all coming from. I felt it was important for us to get together, to talk a little bit about it, so that when it happens again, you're better prepared." While her words were still quite cryptic, one thing was abundantly clear. "Doug doesn't know we're talking, does he?" I phrased it as a question, but it was really more of a statement. She shook her head. "No," she revealed. Her voice was soft. I thought about it, then said, "Ok, Sadie. I'm still here." Her relief was evident, but the smile flickered swiftly and was gone altogether when she readied herself to speak again. "There are some things you need to know about Doug," she said quietly, "things that you will need to know, but that he will not really tell you himself. He is a wonderful man and I love him dearly, he is the most attentive husband in the world, kind and sincere and romantic. I am thankful every day of my life for meeting and falling in love with him." I could feel a but coming on, which made me very nervous, and I am not a man who usually gets nervous. I was suddenly very concerned for the marriage of my friends. It must have showed on my face, too, because Sadie stopped, smiled tenderly at me, and actually laughed, a gentle sound so soft it almost didn't exist. "This is nothing like that," she told me, "although I'm happy to know how deeply you care. Given what I'm about to say, it's an important thing to know. You're quite cavalier sometimes, you know, and it's hard to know if there is seriousness within you. Your charm can be quite concealing. It's good to know deeper emotions are buried beneath your rugged exterior, but there is truly no need to be concerned. Doug and I are doing fine. We're wonderful, actually, and thinking about having a baby soon. Our love for each other is unchanged." While relieved, for the first time in a long time, I did not really know what to say. Thankfully, I did not have to; Sadie barreled forward without missing a beat. "Doug is wonderful," she continued soberly, "but, like most men, he does have a few interesting character quirks. As it happens, most of his unusual quirks are sexual in nature." She paused, reading my face, and apparently was fine with whatever she found there. Her next words were slow and measured. "What I'm trying to tell you, Richard, is that Doug has some very . . . peculiar . . . fetishes." Pleasure Upon Request It was at this moment that our waitress arrived, a beautiful, fresh-faced brunette with bright brown eyes. If all the waitresses at the Apple Dish looked like this girl, I thought, I would definitely become a repeat customer. "Hi," she said cheerfully, her voice markedly southern. "What would y'all like to drink?" I heard some Tennessee in her voice and might have pursued asking the girl about it, if the conversation I was currently involved in did not seem so serious. Still, I filed it away for later; perhaps I would circle back around to the Apple Dish another time. Sadie smiled. "Iced tea, please," she requested, to which I added, "I'm fine, thanks." The girl smiled and scurried away, and after watching her go for a moment, my eyes returned to Sadie, who was looking at me intently, gauging my reaction to her words from a moment ago. I nodded, urging her to continue, and so she did. "Doug has several sexual fetishes," she went on, "and most of them are unusual. We've had normal sex plenty of times and he's very good, and we have a lot of fun, but there are some things he likes that sort of . . . take him to a new level of enjoyment. We've tried some of them and it's been incredible, but . . . some of his fetishes are difficult for the two of us to fulfill." The waitress returned with Sadie's iced tea and took our lunch orders, although this time I hardly even looked at the girl; my eyes were focused on my lunch companion. She was telling me some of her marital secrets for a reason that, I hoped, would soon become clear; I owed her my complete attention. "I'm a sexual person," Sadie said once the girl was gone, her voice hardly above a whisper, and despite my best efforts to contain it, I felt a familiar stirring in my loins. I did not blame myself entirely; hearing a beautiful woman speak in such a way was bound to cause such things. "Doug has mentioned that," I said, trying to put her at ease with a little smile. She blushed, then smiled. "I'm a sexual person," she said again, "and I've never had a problem with some of the things he's asked me to do, and believe me, kinky is an understatement. He is honest with me about everything and always treats me with respect, even when . . . well, even when respect is not the goal of what we're doing." I'll just come right out and admit it: by this point in the conversation, I was rock hard. She sighed. "We both wondered where his desires and fetishes came from. We saw a sexual therapist together and discovered much of it has to do with things from his childhood, some of which he remembers and some of which has been repressed. The therapist told me the best thing I can do as his wife is fulfill his desires, as long as I am comfortable myself with them. We've been married for two years and our sex life is still very strong." She chuckled, and added, "A little weird sometimes, but at least it never gets boring." She was gaining strength with each word. Her voice, while quiet, no longer wavered and her face held none of its earlier nervousness. Her blue eyes were intense, but also soft around the edges. I took a shot. "Which brings you to why you're telling me all this," I said. She looked at the table and blushed again, which made her look absolutely adorable. Sadie was a strong woman and very rarely exhibited shyness, and seeing her blush, multiple times no less, was an unmitigated treat. After a moment, she raised her head. "Doug has several fetishes that involve other people," she stated bluntly, "but we have never had the courage to travel down that road. I have never had the courage to travel down that road. We have decided it might be time to give it a try, and Doug is going to ask you about it." "Ask me about it?" I asked suddenly, needing clarification. Sadie met my gaze point blank. "He is going to ask you to sleep with me." A series of interesting thoughts and emotions coursed through me at that time: first, a part of me was shocked and stunned at what Sadie was saying, both about Doug's personal sexual likes and the fact that he might actually want me to be involved; second, a part of me was not surprised at all, as if I knew something like this was coming; third, a very specific part of me was twitching and throbbing at the sudden and un-asked-for image of Sadie naked and writhing beneath me in sexual bliss; fourth, a part of me felt an extreme sense of honor and appreciation for being considered enough of a friend to be entrusted with this information, and responsibility; and, fifth and lastly, a part of me was utterly concerned about my friendship with Doug and Sadie, and what would happen if we, as Sadie put it, traveled down that road. Apparently, again, it all played out on my face, which was another thing that was unusual for me; I was usually very good at keeping the cards very close to my vest. Sadie smiled soothingly. "I know this is a lot to take in," she said gently. It seemed her own trepidation and concern had decreased as exponentially as mine had increased. "I know how unbelievable this all must seem. Our therapist calls it a cuckold fetish, meaning Doug will receive extreme sexual gratification from watching me with another man, but not participating himself. It took me a long time to wrap my head around the idea, but apparently this is a way for Doug to prove himself to me, as well as live vicariously through me. His pleasure, from what I understand, is tied to my own pleasure, and without having to think about pleasuring me himself, his pleasure increases. It's complicated; our therapist could do a better job explaining it." "He's going to ask me to have sex with you," I said slowly, "while he watches." She nodded and said simply, quietly, "Yes." "Why are you telling me this? If Doug is going to ask me, why meet me before?" "Doug has been trying to ask you for some time now, but he has no idea how to get there. I thought it was important for you to know everything ahead of time, so you can help guide him in the right direction, not to mention already having been able to think about your answer." I thought for a long moment. "You're right, good thinking," I told her, then stopped and thought about asking the one big question rattling around my brain, and did. "Why me, Sadie?" She smiled sweetly. "The short answer is we both like you very much, and respect who you are as a person, and know you will treat this with all the seriousness it deserves. The long answer is we compiled a list of every man we knew, and by process of elimination across a variety of factors, whittled it down to you, someone we both approve of." The image of Sadie with a list of names of men she could potentially have sex with, and slowly narrowing the list down to me, was enough to push the throbbing to near painful levels. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment," I said with a sly smile. Sadie grinned, and nodded. "A big one," she agreed. The waitress returned with our food at that point and set the plates in front of us, and it was clear to both of us that the business end of our lunch was concluded. I smiled and asked Sadie about work, and she did the same, and for the rest of the lunch we chatted in a manner more befitting a pair of old friends, not a man and woman who might soon find themselves in carnal congress. * * * It was Friday morning when Doug called to schedule a golf game for Sunday. He mentioned nothing of my lunch with Sadie, which probably meant he still did not know about it. The thought of joining Doug and Sadie had rattled around my head for three days. It was good Sadie had given me warning, since there is no way I could have realistically given Doug an answer in the moment and felt fine with it. I called Alyssa after speaking with Doug and was happy to find her free for the night, and after calling off my working day early and hitting the gym, freshly shaved and showered, I picked her up at her place at seven o'clock for an easy night of dinner and a movie. Alyssa was always fun to be with and the night progressed swiftly. Dinner was a low-key affair at a tasty little gourmet French place in Brentwood, followed by a run down to the theatres in Century City, which was a great spot to see and be seen. My date was simply attired but smoking hot in black Ugg boots, black mid-thigh mini-skirt, and a dark red three-quarter-sleeve, scoop neck top. Needless to say, Alyssa was seen by many people that night. There were a couple of high-profile films opening seeking to get a jump on the labor day weekend box office business of the next weekend, one of which Alyssa really wanted to see. It was called The Summer of Loving, starring a young Spanish actor whose name I cannot pronounce and a young American actress named Josephine Belle, who was quite attractive. It was heavy on the drama and romance, but also featured a surprising amount of humor, which satisfied me, although it ended on a bit of a downer and Alyssa was dabbing her beautiful green eyes as we left. I pulled into a parking space outside Alyssa's apartment complex and turned to find her looking at me with a twinkle in her eye. "Want to come up?" she asked with a sly smile, both of us understanding where things would lead if I did. "Of course," I replied, grinning back. We uncorked a bottle of wine, thinking about enjoying each others' company before the real action began, but Alyssa and I are sexual people, to borrow a phrase from Sadie Stillman, and it did not take long for us to throw back a couple of glasses and get down to business. Which is how I found myself several minutes later with my hands on the woman's exquisite ass, both of us naked -- although to be totally clear, she was still wearing that black mini-skirt, just nothing else -- her bent over the dining room table with me squatting behind her, the skirt flipped up, my face buried deep in her hairless pussy. My fingers were spreading her ass cheeks as my tongue delved inside her precious pink folds, and she squealed as it plunged inside her as deep as it could go. I lapped at the puffy lips, so swollen with desire, relishing the heat and juicy wetness I found there, my nose nestled snugly against her anus. I licked and tasted and teased as she ground her bottom back into my face, urging me deeper, and so I changed my plan and assaulted her clitoris with the tip of my tongue before wrapping my lips around it and suckling. She squealed again, and louder. I spread the cheeks of her ass further then, almost painfully stretching them apart, and without a word of warning moved higher to lap at the wrinkled pink plot above her pussy, and she squealed a third time as my tongue flittered over her asshole, swirling and tasting in time with the grinding of her hips. I grinned, considering, and then stuck my tongue up her ass, and the reaction and effect was utterly instantaneous: Alyssa screamed at the top of her lungs. The words were unintelligible, but the sound said it all. And yet as much as I enjoy the opportunity to feast on the ass of a beautiful woman, analingus on Alyssa was not new for me and I was eager to speed things along. I thrust my tongue as deep inside her anus as it would go, eliciting another smaller squeal, then withdrew and rose to a standing position behind her. It was time for the main course. I traced a finger down the sleek line of her back, the pale flesh smooth and soft, before it came to rest at the small of her back where her black skirt was scrunched up, my palm flat against the cool surface of her skin. She was breathing heavily, panting, and her back was rising and falling. With one hand between her shoulder blades I held her down, pinned against the dining room table, her pert breasts squashed into the surface. Her ass quivered with anticipation and she gasped out loud as I guided my cock between her thighs. I could feel the heat from between her legs and raised the head of my cock to brush ever-so-gently against the pink folds, and her breath caught in her throat, waiting for the finish. I manipulated my cock, rubbing the engorged head back and forth across her clit, wedging the shaft between her lips, her juices trickling down over my testicles. This was just the warm-up, of course, and soon my mushroom crown found the opening of her sex. And so I pushed the head of my cock inside her, where it belonged. Alyssa's pussy was tight and wet as always, and burning hot, and I was forced to breathe deeply in that first moment to restrain myself. Once controlled, my hands trailed down her back and came to rest upon her heart-shaped bottom, and spread her cheeks wide to watch as slowly, ever slowly, I fed my cock inch by solid inch into her willing depths. Alyssa is one of those girls who reaches climax quickly, which is one reason why she loves to fuck as much as she does, but even I was surprised this time when her body froze for an endless moment as warm fluid washed over my cock and trickled down both of our thighs. She shivered violently and expelled a desperate breath before a long and warbling moan of pleasure followed, and her back arched and her ass pushed back as her body went rigid. This was the instant I bottomed out, my waist nestling up against the pillows of her rump, and we paused then, her immobilized by pleasure, me savoring the sensation as the fierce muscles of her pussy clutched at my cock. I did not give her time to recover; I knew Alyssa and what she wanted, and what she could take, well enough to know she wanted me to blow right through her orgasm and keep on fucking her, which I did with enthusiasm. I began to move, my wet cock sliding past her wet folds again and again, in and out, in and out as I set the tone and tenor of our session together. Beads of sweat broke out over my skin as I worked, varying my speed, varying my angles as I penetrated her. Soon her body began to respond and the sexual rhythm was developed; she rocked forward as I withdrew, drawing my cock further and further out until only the tip remained within, a position held for the briefest moment before I plunged back in, burying myself completely, filling her, fucking her, only to withdraw once more to begin the process anew. I looked down happily as I fucked her, watching my gleaming cock as it disappeared into and reappeared from within her pink folds, her tight little anus winking up at me from its place just above; it was a luscious hole, that one, and my opportunities with it were always relished. I wondered fleetingly if tonight would be one of those nights. Our pace quickened and her back arched, and I reached down and around with one of my hands to clutch one of her tits, pinching and squeezing and toying, enjoying all the delights her body had to offer. Her skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat. The sound of my stomach slapping against the flesh of her bottom as we came together combined with her moaning and gasping to form a simple symphony of sex as we fucked, our rhythm long now established, its cadence set. Our bodies moved together as one, grunting, groaning, whimpering, my hips thrusting, hers bucking back, straining and jiggling as my cock pierced her, invading her depths. And then the end came as I let myself go and orgasm ripped through me, and I spurted what seemed to be the whole contents of my balls into her womb, filling it completely with my hot sticky fuck syrup. Alyssa screamed as another climax conquered her, too, her head snapping back, face to the ceiling as her body quaked, utterly overwhelmed as waves of pleasure crashed over her like surf upon the sand. Her limbs were a mess of inexorable trembles. My drained cock was still pulsing inside her as I sagged forward, no longer capable of supporting myself in the aftermath of my own exemplary orgasm, and the heat between our bodies as my weight came down upon her could have practically created steam. And then she stirred, shifting under me, and I heard the slightest hint of a laugh slip from her lips, and I knew without seeing that Alyssa was smiling happily. "Oh my god," she said, one of her favorite sex refrains. I grinned. "Well, maybe we don't need to quite go that far," I said. As usual, she turned it around. "Maybe we do," she responded playfully. I laughed, and she laughed, and while laughing I gently pulled my softening cock from her pussy, and her laugh instantly morphed into a breathless gasp. A whimper followed, and following that a gush of fluid from her now unplugged hole that trickled down her leg, and she gasped again. It did not take long, thankfully, for the two of us to recover; we both knew from the outset that this would not be a one-pop evening. My apologies to Elton John, but Friday nights were made for fucking. It was a fierce first round, however, and Alyssa knows how much I enjoy having women in the shower, so in little time I found myself being dragged down the hallway to the bathroom, where the girl proceeded to blow me almost to completion before spitting my cock out, mounting me, and bouncing frantically on my cock in a stand-up position. She was a hellcat, no two ways about it. The lag time between rounds two and three was longer, thankfully, and after cleaning up and drying each other off, which is always a pleasant experience, we took to her bed, lounging naked as we basked in the afterglow. Alyssa was draped across my body, her head upon my chest, and my left hand was gentle stroking the supple flesh of her bottom, squeezing here and there, dragging my nails down into the small of her back, pushing my fingers into the dimples, and just enjoying the smooth feel and texture of her body without, for once, any real sexual implications. "How well do you know Doug and Sadie?" I asked suddenly, surprising even myself at the question. Alyssa did not move, but replied, "I don't know Doug all that well, to be honest, but I've known Sadie for a long time, since college. Before she got married, we hung out all the time. I've known her longer than I've known you, actually." I felt like I should have known that. "I forgot about that," I said sheepishly. "Clearly," she said with a touch of amusement. "Why?" "Doug has just been acting a little weird lately," I said, deflecting, "and I wondered if Sadie might have said something about it." She was silent a long moment, then lifted her head and turned it to face me. "You know, at dinner the other night Sadie asked me something a little strange when we were in the bathroom. I didn't think about it much at the time, but after you said something, I thought about it more and remembered. She asked if we'd ever taken part in a threesome together, you and me." "Really?" "Yea, I thought it was a little weird, too," Alyssa admitted, "but then she told me a friend of hers was thinking about doing it and wanted some advice, and Sadie said she'd never had one before, which was kind of surprising." "Why?" Alyssa giggled. "Sadie's certainly not a prude," she said, "and let's just leave it at that." I thought for a moment, then smacked Alyssa harshly on the rump. She squealed and wiggled, but my firm grip held her in place. "Alyssa," I said ominously, "spill it." She settled and pushed her butt back into my hand. "We've fooled around a few times," she revealed with another giggle, "and she eats pussy really well. I kind of figured she'd have had a bunch of threesomes by now, since she's also into girls." Well, that was not what I expected to hear, but it did grant a layer of insight I might not otherwise have gotten. Sexual person, indeed, Sadie Stillman. The wiggling bottom beneath my hand did not stop wiggling, and when I heard the quickening of Alyssa's breath, I knew it was game time, once again. I took a deep breath, and said, "This time, Alyssa, I'm taking your ass."