0 comments/  139360 views/  10 favorites

Samantha

By: Patrick



My parents were very strict, and even though I had just celebrated my 18th birthday they still insisted on me being home, where they considered me safe and sound, before 8 o'clock in the evening, and I took a lot of teasing from my girlfriends about that. It often seemed to me that they had complete freedom and could be out until all hours of the night, but I guess that was an illusion born out of my own frustrations at being house bound so often.

I'm sure they had restrictions too, they just didn't seem as harsh as mine. So, it was with very little expectation of success that I asked mom and dad if I could spend the weekend at my friend Amanda's house, even though I produced a letter from her dad saying that it was ok and that I would be well supervised and he would appreciate it greatly as Amanda really needed a friend at this time - her mother had passed on suddenly about 9 months ago, and she was still very upset.

Imagine my surprise, therefore, when after a long consultation in the kitchen, they came out and said I could go, as long as I promised to abide by the same rules there as I had here in relation to not being out late, and that I did whatever Amanda's father told me to do - my parents were very big on obedience and responsibility! Well, I couldn't wait to ring Amanda and tell her the amazing news, and she was every bit as shocked as me, and laughingly asked me if I was drunk.

Actually I felt that way a bit, intoxicated with this new freedom, but I held it in check around mom and dad, as I didn't want them to see how excited I was. The weekend couldn't arrive quick enough for me, and time seemed to hang like never before, but finally it arrived and mom carefully packed some clothes in a bag for me and somewhat reluctantly walked me over to Amanda's house, a couple of blocks away. I almost giggled as it seemed so much like my first day at School all over again with an almost tearful mom walking me there and telling me if I needed anything to ring, and not to do this and not to do that.

But eventually the door of Amanda's house opened and there stood her dad, a tall man with a grin a mile wide on his face and the most amazing twinkling eyes, I swear my mom was almost simpering as she handed over my bag to him and thanked him for his invitation and for looking after me, and if there was anything..... at that point he grasped her hand and kissed it, thanking her for allowing me to come and he told mom how pleased Amanda was going to be and how he could see from meeting her that he would have absolutely no problems with me, as clearly mom was a class lady. Well, she was like butter in his hands after that, and as I watched her walk away, I could have sworn there was an extra lightness to her step, an extra swish to her hips, gosh, if I didn't know better I'd swear she flirting a little as she looked back over her shoulders and waved to the both of us standing on the steps.

I heard Amanda's dad chuckle, "Ok, let's get inside before Amanda bursts" he said, and as I turned around I saw his eyes slowly sweep up and down my body, and I felt my face flush, "Amanda's really been looking forward to this weekend, and so have I" he added, and once again his eyes seemed to drink me in completely.

As I walked ahead of him into the house, I could feel his eyes on me and it felt strange, but at the same time nice, maybe I even wiggled my hips a bit too, just to tease him a little. I'd only met him a couple of times before at School functions and had always been struck by how handsome and sophisticated he seemed, now being so close to him and almost alone, his presence was almost overwhelming and I felt my heart begin to beat a little faster. Then I was in the lounge and Amanda was hugging me and we were squealing excitedly, and chattering a million miles an hour, and I saw him smile softly and move away, carrying my case with him. "Oh, we've moved the spare bed into Amanda's room" he said, "So you don't feel uncomfortable in a strange house, you don't mind sleeping there do you?"

"Oh, no, that will be lovely" I spluttered, trying to tug Amanda's hands from around my neck and smile at him at the same time. Then he was gone, and I was able to focus on Amanda, and we literally fell on the couch and hugged some more, then sat back and talked and talked as if we hadn't seen each other in years - although it was only a matter of hours that we'd been in School together. It just seemed so different somehow, being here, being together in a social setting instead of a School setting, and then I was checking out her CD collection, and asking for this and that to be played. Gosh she seemed to be able to play whatever she wanted as loud as she wanted, so different to me at home, and I found myself relaxing totally.

Her dad, who's name was Gerald, moved in and out of the room a few times as he was preparing supper in the kitchen, and each time I felt his eyes on me and felt myself glow, but I tried not to look in his direction in case Amanda noticed. Then he called us in to supper and I was surprised by the array of food, all of which Amanda told me proudly, her dad had cooked. It looked delicious and it tasted delicious and I think I may even have made a bit of a pig of myself, but it didn't seem to matter, there was a lot of laughter and witty repartee flying around and I watched in awe the incredible interaction that Amanda had with her dad, so totally different to me and my dad who tended to be a little on the somber side and certainly didn't believe in frivolity around the dinner table, they were like friends more than close relations.

It wasn't long before my own inhibitions flew out of the window and I joined in the laughter and the jokes, even when they were at my expense like when Gerald suddenly stopped and looked at his watch then looked at me and frowned and said in mock seriousness "Well past your bed time young lady!". We all fell around laughing. It was such a fantastic meal, and it carried on in the same light vein afterwards when we all went into the lounge and sat around playing records.

I was still stunned when Gerald actually got up and danced with us, even though Amanda was giving him heaps for his lack of rhythm, and I couldn't believe my ears when he responded by telling her you didn't need rhythm for this modern dancing, just a tight butt, and he turned and wiggled it at her. Amanda just dissolved into laughter, and pointed out that he didn't even have that! Which I thought was a little unkind, in fact, I thought he had a gorgeous butt, and even as I thought that I felt the color flood into my cheeks, and get even worse when I saw him grinning at me.

I meant to turn away straight away, but then I would have had to face Amanda and I knew my face was flaming, so I had to dance facing Gerald, and I saw his eyes drop down to my thrusting breasts and stay there, and the heat really exploded through me and I realized that I was suddenly very conscious of him as a man and of me as a woman. Worse still, I found myself thrusting my breasts out even further as if inviting his eyes, and he knew what I was doing and grinned even wider, letting his eyes roam slowly up and down my body, before Amanda swung around me and deliberately bumped into him saying "Daddy, you are awful, you're deliberately making Samantha feel uncomfortable by staring at her"

"Who me?" he said, his face taking on a totally innocent look, "I wasn't staring, I was just mesmerized by her incredible beauty, and couldn't move my eyes" he said. His facial expression and the way he said it sent us both into gusts of laughter and we fell on the floor clutching our sides, but underneath I was secretly delighted, he actually thought I was beautiful! The laughter served to cover the heat that was flowing through me, and by the time we'd stopped laughing Gerald had pretended to be offended and pranced out like a sulky boy, sending us into fresh laughter.

The rest of the evening Gerald stayed out of sight, playing with his computer so Amanda said, and we chatted and laughed and generally had a great time, until Gerald appeared at the door and pointed at his watch, "Definitely time for bed now" he said, "Or your parents will have my hide"

Even as he spoke, the telephone rang and he picked up the receiver, "Hello, Gerald here" he said, "Oh, Mrs. Reed, yes everything's fine, Samantha has been no trouble at all. Yes, they went off to bed about an hour ago, I thought I'd let their first evening together go a bit longer that normal, was that ok? Ah good, no, don't worry, I wont tell her you called, I know how sensitive children can be if they feel they're being checked on. Goodnight, thank you for calling"

How Amanda and I managed to contain our laughter when he was speaking on the phone I'll never know, but when he put the phone down we just whooped with laughter, "Daddy" Amanda said, tears rolling down her face, "Didn't you always tell me I shouldn't tell lies?"

"Lies?" he said questioningly, "I didn't tell any lies, my watch stopped so it still says an hour ago, so if you get off to bed before I rewind it I'll be saved from purgatory!!" and made a shooing motion towards the bedroom. Amanda, still laughing, rushed over and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth - much to my amazement - and then rushed from the room. I hesitated a moment, not quite sure what I should do, then I walked up and put my hands on his shoulders and lifted my face sideways for a peck on the cheek. He chuckled, "You don't think you're going to escape that easily do you?" he said softly and tilted my face straight and kissed me flush on the lips. Not a fleeting kiss, but a long, firm kiss, and he even slipped his arms around me and pressed me close. I was shocked, and excited all at the same time, and didn't know how to react, then he pulled back and looked me right in the eye, "I really meant it earlier, you are incredibly beautiful!" and he brushed his lips across my forehead. Then he pulled away and walked into the kitchen without a backward glance.

For a moment my legs refused to operate, I just stood there shaking slightly, feeling the heat coursing through me and feeling incredibly turned on. Then Amanda's voice exploded down the hall, "Hey, come on Samantha, what are you too up to in there?"

I flushed once more and dashed down the corridor to the bedroom, "I'm sorry, I needed a drink of water" I stammered, and she just sat on her bed and grinned at me. Then I turned my back and slipped out of my clothes - feeling very self conscious, as I'd never shared with anyone before - and slipped into my silk pajamas and into my bed. Amanda switched the light off, but we didn't go to sleep straight away, we chatted and giggled like girl friends invariably do when they get together, comparing our views on all the boys at school. She did ask what I thought of Gerald at one point, but I pretended not to hear and changed the subject quickly, I still wasn't sure about my reaction to him, it was something more powerful than I'd ever experienced before. I fell asleep with that thought on my mind.

I don't know how long I was asleep, or what it was that woke me up, but suddenly I found myself lying in my bed wide awake, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of a strange house, the squeaks and groans as the wind outside the window bent the branches of the tree, and I shivered slightly. I looked across at Amanda in the dim light filtering in from the moon outside and saw that she was apparently fast asleep, and for a long moment I stared at the ceiling, my mind going over the events of the day. Then I realized that I needed to go to the toilet, so I slipped from my bed, crept across the thickly carpeted floor and eased the door open. The corridor itself was quite dark, but there was a faint light at the end as if a small light had been left on in the lounge room. I crept down to the bathroom and did what I needed to do, making sure that I flushed the toilet completely before opening the door so that the sound didn't carry throughout the house. Then I stepped outside and decided that I needed a drink of something, so walked down to the lounge, which was lit by a small table lamp, and through to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

Out of the semi gloom a soft voice spoke, "Anything I can get for you?" and I nearly died of fright, jumping back with a startled yelp and turning around, to find Gerald standing in the doorway to the lounge grinning at me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he said, "I heard a noise and came to investigate"

I flushed and stammered, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake anyone up I just had to..."

He grinned, "I know, it can get you like that sometimes, usually when it's freezing cold and the bed's all warm and you don't want to venture out"

His grin was infectious and I was soon grinning back at him. Then I saw his eyes drop, and I realized that my silk pajamas weren't doing a very good job of covering me up. I automatically lifted my hands and pulled my top more closely together, but could do nothing to hide the thrust of my hard nipples against the material. Then his eyes were back on mine and there was a warmth in them that hadn't been there before. "You can grab a drink and head back to bed if you like, but now I'm up I think I'll have a drink and watch TV for a while" he said and moved across and got a drink from the fridge, and walked into the lounge and switched on the TV real low.

I stood there a moment in total uncertainty, then grabbed my drink and followed him in, and stammered, "Well, I seem to be wide awake too and if I go back to bed now I know I'll never get back to sleep"

He smiled and beckoned, and his eyes guided me to sit beside him on the couch, "Well, we can't let you get cold, can we" he said, and to my surprise slipped his arm around me and pulled me close. For a moment I froze, then seemed to melt into his embrace, cuddling up to him, mmmmm, I can't remember the last time I cuddled up to my dad like this, Amanda was just so lucky. I sipped my drink and set my eyes on the TV screen, but I wasn't really conscious of what was going on there, I was just so aware of Gerald's closeness, the heat of his body, his breathing, and I felt myself snuggling in even closer.

Then he leaned over me and placed his glass on the side table and took my empty glass and placed it there too, and his face was close to mine, and he was staring into my eyes. One of his arms was around my shoulder, the other was free, and it was that free hand that lifted my face up, and for a moment held it poised, then he leaned down ever so slightly and brushed his lips over mine. It was almost a feather touch, but it electrified me! And I think I gasped out loud, because he quickly pulled back and looked at me. I thought he was going to apologize, tell me he hadn't meant to do that, beg my forgiveness, but he did none of that, he just looked me deep in the eyes and smiled. "Mmmm" he whispered, "You taste as beautiful as you look"

A shudder ran through me, fighting with the fire that had been racing through me since the moment his lips touched mine, and I was unable to speak. Part of my mind was screaming out stop, but the word wasn't making it to my lips. The other part was saying kiss me again, but that too failed to make it to my lips. But I guess that latter message must have made it to my eyes, because after a moment's hesitation he leaned forward and kissed me again, this time more deeply and more passionately, and my lips responded, perhaps a little reluctantly at first, but then with a passion I didn't know I possessed.

The kiss seemed to go on forever without either of us taking a breath, and when we pulled apart we were both almost panting. Then he lifted his hand, and to my astonishment, cupped my young breasts though my silken pajama's, folding his hand around one, then the other and just rubbing them lightly, and immediately my nipples soared into life, thrusting up into his palms with an eagerness that amazed me, and he took them between his thumb and finger and rolled them around, making me gasp loudly. All the time he seemed to be staring into my eyes as if assessing my reactions, looking for some sign that he should stop, but the sign never came, my body was on fire, welcoming his caresses. My tongue was licking across my lips as I gazed back at him, and from time to time dropped my eyes to stare at his hands caressing my breasts, and it was as I was looking down that his hands moved from my breasts and slowly began to unbutton my pajama tops.

Once again part of my mind was screaming stop and part was screaming go on, and I was left floundering in the middle, a spectator almost, as he moved my pajama tops aside and slid them from my shoulders, releasing my naked breasts with their stiffly swollen nipples to his gaze for the first time, and he sucked in his breath sharply, "My god, you have absolutely beautiful breasts" he whispered hotly, and I felt them swell and stiffen even more from his tone of adoration. Then he was leaning down and brushing his lips over them, his tongue trailing a pattern around my nipples before sucking them in to his hot mouth. Everything slowly and infinitely gently, and a shiver and a shudder ran through my body.

Now was the time to say stop, he'd already gone further than any boy or man before, in fact no one had ever seen me and touched me like this, but I found myself loving it, loving his hot looks and his delicate touches, and instead of reaching up and pushing his head away, I reached up and pressed him even more firmly into my breasts, arching them up into his face and whimpering softly, "Oh yes, yes Please" grief, was this really me?

The feelings his lips and tongue were invoking in me were totally amazing, my whole body felt like liquid fire, and my breasts, god my breasts were just about exploding as he teased and licked and sucked on my nipples. So focussed was I on the pleasures that he was bringing to my breasts, that I didn't even noticed when he lifted my body slightly and slipped my pajama bottoms off, didn't notice until I felt the gentle touch of his fingers stroking across my pussy.

Well, my body took off like a volcano, and I cried out loudly, then smothered my mouth as I realized that I might wake up Amanda. Even before that initial reaction had played itself out I was assailed by an even more wondrous feeling as his fingers slipped inside me and caressed my throbbing clit, "Oh God!" I cried through my hand covering my mouth and my body lurched and shuddered yet again, and my arching body caused his fingers to slide even deeper, "Oh Gerald, Gerald, Please" I whimpered.

He pulled back ever so slightly, "Do you want me to stop?" he asked quietly, but even as he waited for my reply his fingers were busy stroking my pussy and my clit, driving my body to new, uncharted waters of feelings, and I embraced them and I wanted them. My answer was to reach down and cover his hand with mine, pressing his finger even further into my pussy, and his response was to plunge his lips down over mine and kiss me passionately as his fingers worked and worked my squirming pussy.

Then his lips were gone from mine, trailing down over my body, over my super sensitive breasts and over my stomach, until his lips finally brushed over my pussy lips, replacing his fingers, and a new electric current ran through me, causing me to spasm and spasm and spasm. This was totally crazy, I knew I was cumming, after all I wasn't completely innocent, I'd played with my own pussy a few times, so I knew what an orgasm felt like, but this was totally different, infinitely more powerful, and from just the brush of his lips? crazy. If he noticed - which I'm sure he did - he gave no hint of it, he kept his lips moving over my pussy and his tongue slid inside and started to roll around my throbbing clit, and I went over the top once again.


Samantha



I don't know how long he played with my pussy and my clit, or even how many times I came, I was just floating in a constant state of sexual bliss like I didn't even know existed. But then he withdrew his lips and his tongue and I felt lost, and my eyes flew open, a groan of disappointment forcing its way passed my swollen lips. Then I sucked in my breath as he moved to slide down his own pajamas to reveal his enormous erection, kicking them away from him and pealing off the top too, but I hardly noticed that, I was staring wide eyed at the first real man's erect cock I had ever seen. It looked HUGE in the flickering light from the TV, LONG and THICK, although I guess it would have been about seven inches in length, it's tip already glistening with some kind of liquid, and I shuddered.

He reached up and stroked his own hands the length of his cock and I saw the shudder run through him, "Samantha" he whispered hotly, "Will you? Can I?"

I was shocked by his sudden timidity and uncertainty, by the almost anguished look in his face, then I sat up slowly and reach forward and took his hand off his cock and replaced it with mine, stroking him as lightly and slowly as he had stroked me, and it seemed to have the same effect on him as it did on me as a gigantic shudder wracked his body and his knees dipped, almost throwing him to the floor.

I didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do, I just went with my primeval instincts as I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around the head of his cock, my hands automatically dropping down to cup and fondle his big heavy balls, and I heard him groan through the shudder that hit him again. Damn, I was beginning to like this, the power I held over him at that moment, and I released his cock head from my mouth and ran my lips and tongue the length of his massive staff. Then I pulled back and looked up at him and grinned, there was an expression on his face that was halfway between ecstasy and agony, and I wasn't sure if it was because of what I was doing or the fact that I'd stopped. "Am I pleasing you Gerald?" I asked.

"Oh god, yes" he groaned, "But......"

"But what?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't think......." He stammered.

I smiled up at him and stroked his throbbing cock once again, "I think I know" I said, "And I want it too, but......it will be my first time, you'll need to be gentle"

My words seemed to explode through his body, and he stood there shaking and shuddering, indecision, fear and lust crowding through his face all at the same time. Then with a deep groan that seemed to start at his toes and run right up his body before emerging from his mouth, he leaned down and pressed me back onto the couch and adjusted my body so I was lying down, and he slipped into position between my widely spread legs, his massive cock brushing lightly across my pussy lips and my light dusting of pubic hair. A sudden thrill passed through me as I realized I was going to do it, at last I was going to know a man in the truest sense of the word, then I closed my eyes and prayed that he'd be gentle.

And he was, infinitely gentle as he fed his big cock slowly into my pussy inch by inch, stopping frequently to let me adjust to his size. I think he was a little surprised that he didn't encounter my hymen, but I'd accidentally broken that when I was experimenting with a vibrator - I remember how it scared me when I saw all the blood - but this time there was none, and I think he may even have been relieved as his cock found no impediment and he fed it into me deeper and deeper. God I never thought it would end, he was so big and thick, and when I finally felt his balls banging against my ass cheeks, my legs were almost in the splits position. Then he stopped and held himself there for what seemed an age, and my pussy walls clamped around him, and began to milk him, causing him to groan again.

Then he began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and power, thrusting his big cock deep and hard, faster and faster, and I was bouncing around on the couch, crying out encouragement, God I was loving it, loving being fucked for the first time in my life, it was everything I'd ever dreamed of and more. The sensation of the whole length of his massive cock feeding between the lips of my pussy and brushing over my incredibly sensitive clit was almost overwhelming. I bucked to the rhythm of his thrusts as if engaged in a mad, crazy dance. I lifted up eagerly to receive his cock as it plunged downwards with ever increasing force and ferocity. I cried out words I never thought would pass my lips, "Oh, yes, Gerald, fuck me, fill me with your heavenly cock, fuck my pussy hard, I want you, I want every part of you, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

And my words were like hot barbs, prodding him into almost frenetic action, as he pounded his cock into me over and over again, his lips and tongue ravishing my shaking, shuddering breasts, nibbling, and at times even biting my super sensitive nipples, and I started to spiral totally out of control. I felt his smooth , thrusting rhythm start to falter, become more ragged as his heavy breath took on a hoarse, strained pitch, "Oh god, Samantha, I can't hold back, I want to fill you, I want to empty myself into your amazing pussy, oh god, yes, yes" And he bucked and heaved and thrust with renewed vigor, and I felt his cock thicken, and thicken some more, until finally it just seemed to explode and a jet of hot liquid burst into my pussy, scalding it to the core, searing the walls of my pussy, "Aaaaaargh, yes, cumming, damn it I'm cumming, cumming, cuuuuuuuummmmmmmiiiiiinnnngggg!!" he cried as his cock shot jet after jet of his hot liquid deep into me.

Suddenly I wasn't in that room any more, I wasn't in that dimension any more, I was consumed by his liquid fire and transformed. My whole existence became a rainbow cloud of infinite bliss that I floated on, that I melted into, that I became. Oh god, it was so unbelievably good. I hung there for what seemed an eternity, aware on some distant level of his cock still pounding into me, still spewing into me, his lips and tongue still licking, lapping and sucking on my breasts, but it had taken on a dreamlike quality, I was experiencing it in a totally different, almost surreal way. "Oh, Gerald, Gerald" I whispered, "Love me, love me like there was no tomorrow" and he did, slowing down as the last of his hot liquid spurted into my body, but not softening at all, and not stopping at all, re-establishing his rhythmic thrusts and starting the whole process of loving me all over again, and I shivered with delight, this was certainly going to be some night.

I looked up into his face and it seemed to glow, I looked deep into his eyes and they glowed too, and I knew I was seeing a reflection of the glow that was lighting me up from the very depths of my being. Mmmmmm, so beautiful, so sensual, sooo very, very special, my first time. But I knew with total certainty that it wasn't going to be my last! And my last conscious thought was of his cock, his beautiful, big, red hot cock still filling me up, starting to swell again for the next wave of hot lava, and my body opened to welcome it, Mmmmmmmmmm.



Samantha



Samantha Willcotts III, a widow for the last third of her seventy-two year life, approached what appeared to be terminal climax at 11:40 p.m. on a Thursday evening. The batteries in her super vibrator continued powering the instrument for almost thirty minutes after they were no longer needed.

Friday morning, Peters, her forty-three, newly hired domestic, murmured her name at the door then entered, carrying her breakfast tray. He approached and gazed down on the disheveled bed and the still form atop the tangled sheets. "Miss Willcotts?" Her wrinkled expression was more a grimace than a smile. The upper lip curled back, baring yellowed teeth in a grimace that appeared a cross between pain and ecstasy.

Her shortie nightgown, drawn well above her sagging belly and protruding hip bones, exposed a sparsely thatched mons. Between her slender but well turned thighs, still deeply centered, was the JUMBO vibrator, four inches of twelve, extending from the well-stretched vulva. The switch was on but the batteries, as noted, were dead. Peters bent to cover the seemingly dead woman's nakedness imagining the scenario that had played out the previous evening. He liked the old woman. It was not, he felt, the way the elderly lady should be viewed by strangers, police, undertakers. He went down to the kitchen and found a pair of rubber gloves by the sink. Carefully drawing them on he returned to the upstairs bedroom and removed the vibrator from her clasped hand and withdrew it from the old lady's vagina. With some difficulty, he managed to draw her totally inappropriate, shortie gown halfway down her slender thighs.

The old woman he thought dead moved her head and tried to sit up. She smiled, weakly. "Pussy peeking, Peters?"

Peters turned red. "I was trying to cover you, Ma'am."

"You caught me with a dead pecker in my cookie jar, didn't you?"

Peters licked his dry lips. "One might say that, Ma'am"

A wry smile played about her lips. "Did you cop a feel my goodies while you were at it?"

"No Ma'am."

"You sure?"

"It would not be proper when you were like that."

"Har har. Never knew a man that wouldn't peek up a woman's skirt if he had half a chance, or slip a hand under it if she'd let him."

"Didn't seem seemly in the circumstance."

"Doesn't my old, gray pussy fuel any interest in you?"

"Ma'am, I feared you were dead."

"And what did you think of that little gadget you found down there?"

"I thought it appropriate if it allowed madam to die happy."

"A bit embarrassing, don't you think, an old lady passing out pleasuring her groove?"

"There was a smile on your face, Ma'am."

'I'm sure," she said, wryly.

"I was trying to remove the gadget while leaving the smile on Madam's face."

"Very thoughtful," croaked the old woman. She rolled onto her side to face him.

"Tell me, Peters, did your pecker stiffen just a little when you saw that big hummer shoved in my parsley patch?"

"There was a twinge , I must confess."

A smile crossed her lips. "Can I count on your discretion."

"Always Ma'am."

"And you'll not breathe a word of my," she cleared her throat, "shall we call it extracurricular activities?"

"Never, Ma'am." Samantha's fingers inched the shorty nightgown up her thighs until, once more, the scanty fleece of her pubic patch and the puffy lips below were revealed to the man's eyes. "Tell me Peters, does this make your pecker swell?"

"It does that, Ma'am." "Do you have a big one?"

"I beg your pardon, Ma'am."

The old woman smiled, "Humor an old lady. Tell me Peters, have you got a big dick?" "I'd say it falls in the normal range Ma'am."

"Would you satisfy an old lady's curiosity?"

"I'm not sure that would be considered proper."

"Oh c'mon Peters. Humor me. Pull out your pecker."

Peters opened his fly and pulled out a thick half aroused cock. "That's it Ma'am."

Samantha nodded approvingly. "You've got a nice one and it isn't fully hard." She nodded again. "Would you mind dropping your trousers so I can check out your balls?"

Peters shrugged. "Ma'am, I've never done anything like this."

"You've never been naked with a woman.?"

"Yes Ma'am, but it wasn't for exhibiting myself. We was preparing to. . . you know."

"Yes. I know. But this time," she promised, "you will be amply rewarded." Peters nodded. He unfastened his belt, opened the catch at the waist band and let his trousers fall to drape about his ankles. He tugged at the elastic band of his shorts and lowered them till they rested on his trousers. He parted the tails of his shirt and exhibited the thick crotch hairs, hairy thighs, heavy balls and a semi-erection. The old woman studied him admiringly.

"Does Madam wish anything else?"

"If you were naked, it would please me greatly."

Peters unbuttoned the shirt and tossed it aside. He kicked off his loafers and rid himself of the clothes gathered about his ankles. He bent to remove his socks, knowing that his parting buttocks revealed the tight, brown star. He straightened to watch the woman wriggle out of the shortie gown and sit up in bed, naked as he. Small, pear-shaped breasts hung on a bony chest that had recently been exposed to the sun and matched the over all leathery tan of her body. "You never pictured me like this did you, Peters?"

"No Ma'am."

"Never thought about me naked?"

"No Ma'am."

"Had no interest this an old pussy?"

"I never imagined it was a possibility."

"You didn't figure this old woman might have an itchy clit?"

"No." "Are you afraid of me?"

"I'd be be afraid of hurting you if I was to try anything."

"Like fucking?"

"I suppose."

"I don't think you'd break anything if you were to shove that big thing up me."

She raised an eyebrow and smiled to herself. "That is if this old carcass can inspire you into getting it up the rest of the way."

She picked up the large dildo and smiled teasingly. "Do I to have to use this again or are you going to pleasure me?"

He shook his head. "I can't measure up to that monster, Ma'am."

The old woman nodded. "But there's a lot more warmth and drive in a man's cock than in a piece of plastic. There's a world of difference if you know how to use it."

Peters shrugged. "I've had no complaints."

"I bet you could give this old bod a hell of a ride." She patted the empty space beside her. "Climb aboard. Let me play with that dong."

Peters eased onto the bed. He reached out and cradled one of her sagging tits in his palm and flicked the rubbery nipple with his tongue.

The old woman's hips writhed on the bed. "Oh God!," she breathed. "That's so fucking good."

Peters continued to tease the erectile flesh with the tip of his tongue.

Samantha captured his expanding penis with her fingers and moved the loose skin up and down, over and off the bulbous cockhead. "So very nice." she breathed.

Peters moved his lips to the other sagging breast. His hand wandered to her lower belly and the triangle of sparse brown and gray curls that outlined the thick, brownish lips of her vagina. He inserted a finger into the moist crack as the old woman parted her legs. "Oh Yes!" she gasped, "Tickle it. Play with my snatch." Her hand worked his cock until it stood hard. 

Peters' fingers fingered the woman's opening until there was a flowing of her juices.

"You keep that up," giggled Samantha, "you'll make this old lady come."

Peters gritted his teeth. "Might say the same about you."

"You mean you're about to spout?"

"Any minute now, if you keep doing that."

Samantha stopped and squeezed the hard cock at the base. She raised onto her elbow and turned quickly, for an old person, so that she faced the foot of the bed and brought her face close to his erect member. "Got to have a good look at this beauty up close."

Peters felt her breath then her lips encircle him. Her tongue laved the smooth cock head as professionally an any whore ever had ever. He pressured further into her mouth. She absorbed him until her chin rested in his pubes. She raised her head until just the glans remained between her lips then reversed direction.

"You're gonna make me come," warned Peters.

Mumbling with a full mouth made the words indecipherable. Her head only bobbed faster. Peters' pecker racked shot after shot deeply into her throat.

The old lady swallowed it all.

She kept at it until the man could stand no more.

"That's enough," he moaned. "I can't take anymore."

The old woman nodded and swallowed. "In my day I gave good head."

"Ma'am, you still do. You've drained me."

The old woman spread her thin thighs and exposed the thinly landscaped cunt with the inner lips extending past the smooth outer ones. "I was hoping you'd have something left to plug my hungry pussy."

"Need get my breath before I can do that."

Samantha nodded. "I can wait. It's just fine being here with a naked man."

"Want me to lick your clit?" asked Peters.

"That would be sweet of you," beamed Samantha. She wriggled and arranged her hips to give him easy access. "Guess that's not the prettiest pussy You ever seen up close. Maybe you should close your eyes."

Peters surveyed the puffed, thick brown lips and the nub that issued from the upper portion of the groove like a little finger with the puckered foreskin extending a quarter inch beyond an extension. "If I can lick it I can look at it,"

"Never saw one like that, I'll bet."

"That's true. It looks like a baby's dick."

"So I've heard..."

He flicked it with his tongue and it expanded slightly. "You got a little hard-on down there."

The old woman winced, pleasurably. "It's very sensitive."

He took it between his lips and sucked until the firm extension rested between his teeth. He nibbled lightly at the base while his tongue worked around it until he felt the foreskin recede and his tongue found the exposed head."

Samantha moaned. "Oh God! It's been so long since a man's done that."

Peters lifted his head. "I feel like I'm sucking a kiddy cock."

The old woman's fingers worked through his hair and massaged his scalp. "Have you ever done that?"

"What?"

"Sucked on a boys cock?"

Once. When I was a kid."

"Did you like it?"

"It was a dare. We dared each other. We had to go through with it."

"Did you like it?"

"When he did me, I never felt anything like it. I guess when I did him, he felt the same."

"And you never did it but once?"

He licked the exposed tip of the oversized clit. "We tried it a few more times that summer. He covered his teeth with his lips and went at the hard bit of woman flesh. He had her moaning and she could ask no more questions.

They lay in bed, sharing the coffee Peters had brought up.

"I don't imagine you weren't expecting a first morning like this," said Samantha."

"That's a fact."

"You're a nice looking man. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No ma'am."

She raised her eyebrows. "Boyfriend?"

"I'm not queer." "Neither am I but I never minded eating a little hair pie when it was available.

Thought you might feel the same about man cock."

"I'm not looking for any."

"So how do you keep that thing happy when it gets hard?"

Peters smiled. "He becomes good friends with my fist."

Samantha nodded. "Figures, a man all alone, doing himself."

"No entanglements. No arguments," said Peters.

Samantha emptied her cup and stretched to place it on the table on her side.

"Ever done any cornholing?"

"I told you I ain't queer."

"Wouldn't be queer if you done it to a woman."

"Most women don't want any part of that."

"But some do."

"All right," he admitted, "I've probed a lady's rectum."

Samantha giggled. "Hope she took it like a man. Did you like it?"

"Tighter than her other place. I was fingering her clit. I knew she was no man."

She reached over and found his cock stiff. "You're coming around just fine. Must be the stimulating talk about assholes."

"No usually a breakfast topic."

"Would you consider plugging my butt if I got on my hands and knees?

Peters watched the old woman get in position and lower her head to the pillow. He parted her scrawny buttocks to reveal the dark brown, puckered star of her anus.

"Looks awfully small and tight," said Peters.

"There's KY Jelly in the drawer of the bedside table," said Samantha.

Peter found the tube, unscrewed the cap and squirted a small amount on to his fingers and applied it to the crinkled opening. He shoved the longest finger in past the second knuckle and moved it from side to side, stretching the slippery walls of the opening.

Samantha moaned, pleasurably. "Feels fine. Now ram your dick up the old dirt chute."

"You like talking dirty, don't you?" Peters touched his rammer to the hole and moved forward in a steady pressure until his pubic hairs brushed the taut, white cheeks of her spread ass.

"Fucking asshole fucker! Pound the shit out of me!"

Peters withdrew until he could see the rim behind the head of the glans then he slammed her hard and heard the breath go out of the old woman.

"Jesus! I felt that one all the way up in my throat."

"You said fuck your shit hole," said the man.

"Well what are you waiting for? Pound me. I won't break."

Peters slammed into the frail looking woman until she started to moan. "Oh god! So fucking good. I'm going to come all over you."

"I'm going to come in you," breathed the man. "I'll fill you with come."

"Going to piss myself when I come," breathed the old woman. "When I come this good I just know I'm going to piss myself."

"Get to the john," urged Peters.

"NOooooo! It's too good. Fuck my ass while I'm pissing. Don't stop."

The old woman's ass rose up, pressured against his groin and froze. He pressed his cock into her as far as he could and felt the throbbing begin.

At first there was a trickle of moisture at his crotch that rapidly grew into a flood of warmth that flooded his groin and flooded down his legs as the old woman's bladder emptied on him and soaked into the sheets.

"God Damn! Woman You're pissing all over the bed," grunted Peters.

"Shut up, Goddamn you, and fuck my ass," grunted the old woman. "I'm coming and pissing makes it better.

"Never got into anything like this," grunted Peters. "Well piss away, I reckon it'll wash off."

"Hot piss and come," groaned the old woman. "Only done this once before in my whole life." She fell forward on the bed and lay in her own urine that seemed puddled in the sheets.

Peters, still lodged deep within her asshole, followed her down to lay on top of the small, taut butt. Those rounded ass cheeks still clenched and relaxed as her asshole continued milking his cock. "Reckon I come pretty strong too but I didn't piss in you."

The old woman fought for breath. "You can piss up my ass if you want. Come on, give me a piss enema. Do me a world of good."

"I might be able to after I soften up some. Right now I'm too stiff to be pissing though I admit to feeling the urge."

She tried to wriggle her butt under him. "I'm in no hurry, sonny. Just let it soak. I enjoy feeling your boner up the old dirt chute . I feel fuller than I've been in years."

"You're right tight for a woman of your age," said Peters.

"Hrmppp," snorted Samantha. "How many seventy years old assholes have you been up in your young life?"

"None," agreed Peters, "but. . ."

"Fucking butt is what we're talking about," grunted the old woman. "You keep me happy, I'm thinking we'll get along. You just earned yourself a raise." Peters nodded. "I might hang around awhile."

"Now, if you're ready, fill my ass with warm piss. Might make me come again." The young man pressed into the tight as far as he could concentrated on voiding his urine. "Here it comes, your piss enema to clean you out."

Samantha moaned as she felt the warm piss squirt into her bowels. "Oh God! So fucking hot. Fill me. Fill me up!"

"I want you to know," breathed Peters, "I've never done this before." 

"Won't be the last time," cackled Samantha.



Samantha



NOTE: While it does not relate directly, this story follows chronologically after the story Angela.

****

I stumbled home at about 3:30am, struggled to get my key in the door, eventually gained entry to the house, and staggered up the stairs to my bedroom. Bouncing off both sides of the doorway, I almost fell into the bedroom and collapsed on my bed. I was so drunk, I forgot to close the door.

I lay there for a few minutes trying to steady my reeling brain. It had been a great night out with the lads, starting in the bar and moving on to the nightclub. We had all got really drunk, been quite boisterous, and had a tremendous laugh.

In the nightclub we had bumped into a group of girls who we had proceeded to chat up and buy drinks for all night. There was one of them in particular I had been flirting with, a tall blond with huge tits. Her and I had met in the corridor outside the toilets and had a passionate kissing session, during which both of our hands had wandered all over the others’ body. The girl had me so turned on and gagging for sex that I asked her if she wanted to leave with me early. She had refused, saying that she wouldn’t go away without her friends.

At some point in the night, the girls disappeared, and we all had to go home without getting anything more than some kissing and feeling up with them. Who knows why they abandoned us? All I knew was that I was home, completely drunk, and horny as hell. I try to never go to sleep loaded with this much of an unreleased sexual urge; I had to free some of it or I wouldn’t get a good sleep.

I slowly and clumsily got undressed, and lay back on my bed to masturbate away the tension in my balls. Taking my dick in my hand I started to massage it hard, imagining the big breasted girl who had abandoned me in the club after getting me so worked up. 
I lay there for a while, stroking away at my cock, taking my time and enjoying the release of the pent up pressure.

Suddenly I became aware of something. I opened my eyes slightly, and, in the corner of my vision, finally noticed that I had left the door open. But the frightening thing was that there was someone in the doorway, standing watching me.

Had I been more sober I would have jumped with fright and cowered under the covers, but I was so drunk that I just looked stupidly over to the doorway with my eyes widening in shock. My hand had stopped moving, but still held onto my slightly softening dick.

Samantha, my 18 year old sister stood in the doorway. Sweet young innocent Samantha, dressed in a knee length night shirt, her shoulder length red hair tousled and messy, her green eyes wide and staring, stood there watching me masturbate. How long she had been there I could only imagine.

In my hand, my cock twitched and stiffened. Behind the drunken haze where my brain lay, I wanted to be horrified and shocked, but I was actually really turned on by the fact that my sister was watching me. My hand started to stroke up and down my shaft again as I lay there and looked over at Samantha.

Her eyes never left my hand and dick. She stepped forward into the room, slowly, nervously. She closed the door behind her, her eyes following the movement of my hand the whole time.

She slowly walked across the room to stand before my bed, looking down at my cock being manipulated by my hand. My head was whirling; I should be jumping up, forcing Samantha from the room, hiding my erect manhood from her, and certainly not continuing to stroke myself as she stood there watching. But there was something incredibly exciting about the fact that my innocent little sister was standing there mesmerised by my masturbation.

Samantha’s eyes came away from my dick for the first time, her face raised to look at mine, and in her young green eyes I saw curiosity and amazement. As I lay there looking up at her, continuing my administrations to my cock, my head filled with visions of what her young body was like under that nightshirt. For the first time in my life, I had a sexual fantasy about one of my sisters.

Samantha lowered herself, sat on the edge of the bed, and turned her eyes back to my stroking hand. She reached out tentatively, placed her hand on my wrist, and pulled my hand off of my cock. She hesitated for a couple of seconds, my dick throbbed and bulged, then she reached out and wrapped her small slender fingers around my shaft. Her touch sent an electrifying chill through my whole body.

Slowly, carefully, but with measured deliberateness, Samantha began to stroke her hand up and down my rock hard and pulsating dick. I gripped a handful of cover in each hand, my back arched in muscle wrenching pleasure, and every sinew of my body tightened. Had I still been in control, my hand would have been moving as fast as possible for these final few moments, but Samantha continued her slow controlled action, dragging the end out and torturing me with pleasure.

I could see that she was getting tired, that her arm was getting weak and slower, her grip less firm.

“I’m going to come soon, baby,” I whispered, encouraging her that the end was near.

Samantha took in a deep breath, held onto it, and pumped her hand with renewed strength.

When I came, I did so with a force and volume I had never managed to muster before. The first wave of cum erupted from the head of my cock, washing over Samantha’s hand and wrist, running around her slender lower arm and dripping on my thigh. As Samantha continued to pump my shaft, tightening her grip to force every drip of fluid from me, every muscle in my loins tightened and forced all traces of cum from me. It just kept pumping out for longer than I ever remember experiencing, and it felt better than any ejaculation I had known before; the fact that it was my sister who was administering the treatment took the feeling beyond the physical pleasure it is normally constrained to.

Samantha sighed with a happy whimper as she released the breath that she had been holding.

When Samantha’s hand finally stopped moving, and released me, I felt physically exhausted. She had not only drained my balls dry, she had sucked all of the energy and strength from my body. I lay there a physical wreck incapable of moving.

Samantha looked up at my face again. Our eyes locked and she smiled. She slowly rose to her feet, turned and walked away. As she opened the door, she looked back at me, still smiling. The door closed and Samantha disappeared.

I fell asleep eventually, and my night was full of dreams of my innocent sister. When I woke, it took me a while to figure out if I had dreamt the whole episode or if it had actually happened. Half of me felt an overwhelming dread and guilt, but the other half was so excited and turned on that my penis was actually starting to stiffen again as I remembered the touch of my sister.

Samantha had just turned 18 a few weeks ago, and was a pure and innocent girl. She had never had any serious boyfriends that any of the family knew about, and she would often show a naivety and lack of sexual knowledge rare in a girl of her age in these days. Having had a sexual encounter with such a girl was an unbelievable turn on, and my male urges and instincts were to get alone with her as soon as possible and try to take it further. But she was my sister. As her elder brother by almost eight years, I had always tried to protect and shield Samantha from boys, who I knew were only after sex, but now I found myself in the awkward position of desiring her for myself. It was all very confusing and painful on my hung-over brain. But it was also very exciting, and the thought of innocent little Samantha and me getting together was getting my manhood quite hard.

I got up and dressed, and headed downstairs, feeling quite apprehensive about how Samantha would react when we saw each other, especially if our parents or sister Gail were present at the time.

In the downstairs hallway I could hear the sounds of someone in the kitchen washing dirty dishes in the sink. I peeked round the doorway, and there was Samantha, standing at the sink with her back to me, still dressed in her nightshirt, but with her hair freshly washed and tied back in a pony tail.

I noticed for the first time how sexy the delicate shape of her neck and shoulders were, how graceful the curves were down her narrow back, over her slim waist and hips, and down over her perfectly round rear. Her legs looked smoother and more evenly muscled than I ever remember seeing them. I was getting really horny standing there examining Samantha for the first time as an object of sexual desire, but I was still unsure about whether or not I should, or even could, pursue my urges.

I silently retreated from the doorway and continued into the lounge. The room was empty. There was a note on the coffee table. I walked over and picked it up.

“Gone shopping early, so didn’t want to wake you up. Will be home lunch time” the note read, and was signed “Mum, Dad and Gail.”

Samantha and I were alone in the house. I stood for a few seconds, my mind aflame with possibilities, my logic and sense, and rational reason screaming at me to get out of the house and stay away from Samantha. But deeper and stronger than thought, I had an overwhelming urge to go into the kitchen right now and seduce my sister. Get in there right now while, hopefully, she is still possessed with whatever feelings drove her to her actions last night. Get in there while she still has whatever urges it was she had last night, and take things further.

Suddenly all resistance crumbled, and I turned and walked into the kitchen, coming slowly up behind Samantha. She must have heard me, as I made no effort to be silent, but she neither turned nor said anything. She must have known that there was only me in the house with her, and she must know that I was coming up behind her.

I stopped behind her, reached out and put my hands on her hips, and could feel her small frame trembling slightly beneath my touch.

“Good morning,” I said gently, as my hands started to run up and down her flanks.

“Good morning Jack,” Samantha replied, and I could see her hands had gripped the front edge of the sink. Her breath was quick and urgent. I hoped this was excitement and not panic.

I used my fingers to work up her nightshirt, pulling at the material until her slender thighs were bare. I pushed my hands under, running my fingertips up her warm flesh, over the straps of her panties and onto her hips, round to her flat stomach and then downward again.

“Jack, what are you doing?” Samantha asked, her voice trembling.

“Returning a favour,” I whispered in her ear as my right hand stroked down over her panties, tracing the shape of her bulge, my middle finger pressing into the widening opening between her lips. The material of her panties was getting warm and moist.

Samantha said nothing else, she simply gave a small moan, and her weight fell back onto me. I supported her body with my left arm as my right hand came back up and worked its way under the elastic of her panties, started down again into her soft pubic curls.

My fingers found her lips gorged with blood, swollen and excited, her clit hard and protruding, her opening moist and soft. My hand ran up and down, from the top to the bottom of her sexual area, my fingertips tickling every single spot of her, investigating and probing, leaving not a hair untouched or a muscle unstroked. All the while Samantha grew wetter and hotter. 

Her body was getting limp, and I had to exert greater effort with my left arm to hold her upright. Lucky she was so small and slender. Through her nightshirt I could feel the large nipples of her small breasts growing and hardening in time with the softening and moistening of her vagina. Her breath was coming in short hard gasps, and her fingernails were digging into my left arm as she clung on to the support that was holding her on her feet.

My finger darted up and down her crack, penetrating her opening ever so slightly, just enough to draw out her juices and stimulate her soft inner membrane, running along her lips, and pressing and circling her clit. My finger was running up and down and round and in and out with controlled precision and speed. Samantha moaned and gasped as much as her shortness of breath would allow her, and her body was pulsing through moments of slackness that caused her to fall further into my grasp, and moments of muscle tightening tension that arched her back and raised her onto her toes.

She stood there, a helpless slave to my right hand, until she reached her climax. Her whole body tightened like steel, her back arched, forcing her shoulder blades into my body, and her head curved back as her eyes rolled into her head and her mouth opened wide in a loud scream of ecstasy. She had been quite silent up till now, but when Samantha screamed I feared that the neighbours would hear her. It was a sound so penetrating that it ran through my whole body, sending a chill of pleasure to my very bones, and spoke of great extremes of mind wrenching and physical pleasure.

I slowly removed my hand from her panties, allowed her nightshirt to fall back down, and put both my arms around her waist. I held her upright, the weight of her body loose and leaning into me.

Samantha looked back over her shoulder. I looked down into her eyes, huge green orbs all blurry and unfocused. My erect dick, which was pressed into her back, throbbed and pushed against her. Samantha smiled dreamily, turned round to face me, reached for my zipper and released my dick.

Just as Samantha’s hand wrapped round my shaft, the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway came through the window. Samantha gasped in horror.

“Mum and Dad,” she hissed, and fled from the room, running upstairs to her bedroom.

I tucked away my now shrinking manhood, and went to the door to help my parents and other sister in with the shopping they were returning with, all the while cursing them for their timing. 

Over the next two weeks I grew almost insane. I desperately wanted to pursue things further with Samantha, but the chance never presented itself. I hoped franticly that she herself still had sexual urges towards her sibling, and that when the chance came, we could go all the way together.

Then one night, our other sister, Gail, was out at a friends house and staying there all night, and our parents had gone to my uncle’s house and said they would not be home till very late. Samantha was at the cinema with her friends, but I knew she would be home eventually. I sat on the sofa watching some boring movie on TV, waiting patiently.

It was getting late, and I had started to doze. I never heard the door opening, or Samantha entering the room. I was unaware of anything until I heard her saying my name.

“Jack.” Her voice penetrated the veil of light sleep that I had fallen behind.

“Jack,” she said again, louder, more insistent.

My eyes opened, to see Samantha standing before me. Naked.

She stood there, less then two feet from the sofa where I sat, her slender and delicate frame bare and pale. The slight curves of her body were accentuated by the glow of the TV at the side being the only light in the room, her small breast were firm and tight, standing out from her slight torso, the nipples huge and hard. Her hair was tied back from her face, and she stared me straight in the eyes.

As I sat there dumbfounded, unable to speak or act, she stepped forward, leaned over me and knelt, her knees straddling on either side of my thighs. My growing penis felt the pressure of her naked body pressing down atop it, exciting it more and driving it to greater hardness. Her tits pressed into my chest, and her breath washed over my face, her smell, both of her perfume and her female moistness, floated up my nostrils, sending my brain into convulsions of excitement.

My hands reached up, closing in on her sides, running up her hips and ribs, one hand going round her back to rub her fine body, the other hand coming to the front and cupping one of her tits, massaging gently and tweaking the nipple; her nipples were so big! The hand at her back ran down, running over her perfectly round buttocks, kneading gently at the soft flesh there. 

Our noses were touching, both of our mouths were slightly open, my tongue protruded slightly as I pushed closer to her. Her hands grabbed my head, clamped to either side of my face, and she forced our lips together, sucking my tongue into her own mouth as she forced her own tongue into mine. For a moment we sat there, her astride me, the moistness of her dripping onto my groin, the hardness of me forcing up into her and threatening to burst through my trousers. Our mouths and tongues wrestled, pushed, sucked and slurped, kissing passionately like first-time teenagers.

Eventually I broke off from Samantha’s mouth. She whimpered in complaint, and gyrated her hips, seeking the pressure of my dick to replace my mouth as a source of pleasure.

“Samantha,” I said, “how far do you want to take this?” While I wanted to throw her to the floor and make love to my sister, I wouldn’t dare do so unless she wanted the same.

“How far?” she gasped. “All of the way Jack!” She tried to force her tongue back into my mouth, but I turned my mouth aside to prevent her doing so.

“But Samantha,” I said, “are you…you know, have you ever…?”

“I’m still a virgin Jack,” Samantha confirmed. “But I want you to take that from me, take it from me tonight. Right now.”

I was now hopelessly lost, there was nothing I could have done to stop myself any longer. I put both hands under Samantha’s rear and lifted her from me, moved forward and lowered her to the soft rug in the middle of the room.

I kissed her on the lips once more, soft and gentle, then started to move down her body, kissing and licking her neck, shoulder, breast, stomach, loins, thigh. My tongue found her wet opening and protruded and stroked with measured movements, making sure she was as wet and pliable as possible before I entered her.

I rose to my knees, unfastened my trousers and released my upright cock. I fell forward again, coming down on top of my little sister, positioned my shaft, looked her in the eyes to confirm her willingness – she smiled and nodded, her green eyes afire with desire – and thrust forward. I knew it would hurt her, so rather than drag it out, I decided to get it over with quickly, the time for lengthy lovemaking would come for us in the future. Just now we both had an urgent passion to release, and she had a barrier to cross.

As my cock entered her, pushing her open and rending her virginity, Samantha screamed in pain, cried in ecstasy, and grabbed onto me with her arms and legs, wrapped her limbs around me and dug her fingernails into my back.

She lay below me, a helpless and defenceless little form, as I pumped and thrust as quickly as I could. I slid in and out of her, her tunnel getting wetter and easier with every thrust, her muscles growing more accustomed to the sensation of penetration.

She reached her first penetrative climax at the same time as I exploded within her. We groaned together as our fluids flowed together, our muscles tightened and trembled as a single unified body, and we shared a moment of sheer bliss, the pinnacle of our built up desire, need, and lust for a forbidden and taboo lover.

We lay wrapped around each other for a time – it could have been two minutes or an hour for all I cared or knew – before I moved off of my sister’s body. I lifted myself up, then reached down and helped her to her feet. She fell against me, tired, exhausted and worn out. I tilted her head back, and kissed her, long and lovingly. 

“Thank you Jack,” she said.

“No,” I replied, “thank you.”

I helped her upstairs to her bedroom, got her into her bed, and lay beside her, cradling my little sister in my arms and kissing her until she fell asleep. Once she was sound, I left, tidied up downstairs, and went to my own bed. I heard Mum and Dad getting home a while earlier, but I never let on that I was still awake.




Samantha



I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the fun I was going to have in the future with my now not so innocent little sister Samantha as we explored each others’ willingness to participate in incestuous lovemaking.



Samantha



“Andrew!” a female voice called. “Andrew!” I turned and there was Samantha, running to catch up to me.

“Hey, Samantha,” I greeted. “What are you up to?”

“Not much. You?”

“On my way home.”

“Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Finals are coming up and I was wondering if you’d help me study for my geometry final? It’ll be a miracle if I pass it.”

“Miracles so happen, you know?”

“I know, but can you help?”

I smiled. “Sure. My house tonight?”

“Sure. Thank you, Andrew.”

So that night, Samantha and I sat on the couch in the family room, listening to country music on the radio and going over her geometry notes. For some reason, she seemed so much more beautiful than she ever did. It was strange. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. She looked at me. Our eyes locked. We stared for the longest moment and then, as if it had a mind of its own, my hand reached out and caressed her cheek. Her skin was so soft, nearly taking my breath away.

“Andrew, we should really be studying,” she said, gently.

“I know,” I said. “I just can’t help myself. You are so beautiful.”

There were no other words spoken when I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers. It was so soft and I wasn’t sure if it had actually happened. When the kiss ended, I looked into her eyes and I saw something there that I had never seen before. There was a spark in her eyes. The sight made my heart pound with happiness, because I knew what it meant. I kissed her again and soon I found myself wanting her more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. My lips left hers and kissed her neck. She moaned. When my hand found her breast, she gasped and pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Samantha,” I apologized. “I moved too quick.”

“No, it wasn’t that,” she promised. “You just…shocked me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she cut me off. She took my hand and placed it on her breast. Then she placed her hand on my cheek and stared into my eyes. “Make love to me, Andrew,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stared into her eyes and I could tell that she was serious. I kissed her and she slowly pushed me backward until I was lying on my back. She threw one leg over me and sat on top of me. She kissed me and then she moved down my chest, peeling my shirt away as she went. We heard Devon’s truck pull up in the driveway and I quickly swept her into my arms and hurried to my bedroom, locking the door behind us. I quickly pulled her into my arms and kissed her. My lips slowly moved over her body, not wanting to miss an inch of her. We were both beyond ready when we finally became one. She cried out and dug her fingernails into my back, but I never complained. Several times, I found myself holding my breath. It was that intense. When it was finally over we laid there, in silence, for an awful long time, waiting for our hearts to slow. I slid off of her and lay beside her. I took her hand into mine and kissed the top of it.

“Are you all right?” I asked her. “Did I hurt you?”

She looked at me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, and brought her had to my face. “No,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I love you, Andrew. So much.”

I smiled. “I love you, too, Samantha.”

I rested my head on her chest and soon we were asleep. When I woke up the next morning, I had almost forgotten the night before until I saw Samantha lying beside me. I couldn’t help, but smile. She was so beautiful. It was like a dream, seeing her beside me. It was like she was too beautiful to be with me, you know? That was the moment that I knew I was in love. I loved this beautiful woman lying beside me. I rose and pulled on my jeans. I went across the hall to the bathroom. On the way back, I ran into Devon in the hallway. He was my oldest brother. Chris came after him. He only stared at me and then went on into the family room. Chris came out of his bedroom a moment later. He looked at me for a moment. Then he came closer and sniffed at me like a dog. 


He looked at me and grinned. “Vanilla,” he concluded. “Who’s the girl, Andy?” He was the only person that called me Andy. I hesitated. “Andy?”

I looked into his eyes. “Samantha,” I said.

His eyes widened. “Our Samantha?” I nodded. He laughed all the way into the family room.

I shook my head and went back into my bedroom. I stood at the foot of the bed and watched her sleep. Then I climbed into the bed beside her, gently, so I wouldn’t wake her. My eyes traveled over her small body. Every inch of her was perfect. Pure beauty. When I moved my fingers over her stomach and between her legs, she stirred.

“Andrew,” she whispered. 

She didn’t open her eyes. I slipped one finger inside and she arched her back and cried out. Our lovemaking was different this time. Intense. Later, with her in my arms, I fell asleep. We woke up in each other’s arms. It was perfect. Never was waking up so wonderful. 

“You know what?” I said.

“What?” she said.

“I’m hungry.”

She laughed. “I guess you would be,” she said. “Worked up an appetite, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied and kissed her. We rose and we made cheeseburgers. Nobody else was home, but soon the gang arrived.

Cal looked at me. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, although he already knew the answer.

I smiled and looked at Samantha. “In Heaven.”

Weeks later, everyone was there, at my house, as usual. We rented movies and ordered a pizza. Chris and Cal were in the kitchen, playing videos on the small television. Samantha and I were sitting on the front porch, holding each other.

“Samantha,” I said.

“Yes.”

I hesitated. Was I really going to do this? I loved this woman and when I woke up with her beside me that morning, after we made love, it felt so right. I wanted that back and I wanted that permanently.

“What is it, Andrew?” Samantha asked, worry in her eyes.

I looked into her eyes and I ran my hand over her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Andrew,” she replied. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” I said. “What would you say if asked you to marry me?”

“What?”

“I’m curious,” I said.

She stared at me for a moment. “Well,” she finally said. “These past weeks have been the most romantic and most wonderful days of my life. I’ve been so happy. At this moment, I’d probably say yes.”

“Would you really?”

“Definitely.”

I looked at her for a very long moment. “Well, I’m asking.”

She stared at me. “You’re serious?”

“You know I am.”

“I…” her voice died out as we heard the screech of tires coming around the corner of our block. Shots rang out and Samantha fell to the ground. Moments later, I fell beside her. The front door opened and my brothers stood over us. I didn’t move for several moments. Then I looked at Samantha. She was still. I reached out and took her hand. I squeezed it gently.

“Samantha,” I said, my voice shaking. She didn’t respond. My heart pounding, I looked at Devon. “Is she…?" I couldn’t say the words.

He and Chris exchanged glances. I knew then. They didn’t have to say anything. Samantha was dead and suddenly, I felt strange and I was cold. I looked at everyone. I held onto Samantha’s hand. I refused to let her go. I didn’t want to. Not yet. I closed my eyes and remembered everything. I fell in love with her in less than twenty-four hours. I lost her in less than ten. Some trick Satan played on us, huh?

“Fight it, Andy,” Chris said. “You have to fight it.”

I looked at him and I knew that he knew. I was dying. There were two holes in my chest and I’d bleed to death before anyone arrived to help. I turned my eyes toward the sky and said a silent prayer. Moments later, everything went black.

Devon and Chris looked at each other. Their baby brother was dead. Samantha was dead.

“At least they’re together,” Cal said, his voice trembling.

Chris stumbled forward with a sob. Devon caught his little brother. “Easy, Chris,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do now. He’s in God’s hands now.”



Samantha



Samantha Johnson, the new hire, was exquisitely beautiful. James Mann thought her the most gorgeous woman he'd ever met. He'd love to ask her out, but her good looks were somehow intimidating. He feared she'd reject him. If she did, he'd feel mortified. It was better, he told himself, to fantasize about asking her. That way, he'd control her answer, and her answer would always be yes.

The day that Mr. Sloane hired Sam as his new secretary, the office employees invited her to lunch. It was nothing fancy, just a welcome-aboard gesture. They met at the diner across the street from the office. James had hoped to sit with Sam, but her booth was full before he entered the restaurant. Ed Neely, Joe Parker, and Lou Alister were the lucky bastards, salesmen all, who'd managed to occupy the seats in her booth. James hated salesmen. They were so damned pushy.

He had to content himself with worshiping her from afar, between the perky waitress's visits to his table.

Sam had long, curly blonde hair that cascaded over her delicate shoulders, falling half way down her sculpted back. Her breasts were high, full, round, and firm. She'd left the top three buttons open to ensure that she showed plenty of cleavage. The tight silk blouse that she wore also showed the outlines of her puffy areolas and the stiff points of her jutting nipples. She also wore a red mini-skirt slit up the thigh that revealed her long, sleek, tapering legs through the fine mesh of her stockings. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. James wondered whether she was wearing panties and, if so, what type and color they were.

Ed said something, and Sam laughed. She was even more beautiful when her eyes went crescent and her lips curved upward, parting to frame her dazzling white teeth. A stab of jealousy pierced James' heart. He glared at Ed, without realizing it, and muttered, "Bastard!"

Joe said something. Again, Samantha laughed. Again, James scowled, mumbling, "Asshole!"

Next, Lou made a remark. Samantha chuckled. James frowned and cursed.

The bastards were telling jokes, he thought. Knowing Ed, Joe, and Alister, they were probably telling off-color stories. That's about the only kind they knew. No, James corrected himself. Samantha wouldn't laugh at risqué jokes! She might blush. She might even slap the face of a man who told her such a gag. But a lady with as much obvious breeding as Sam wouldn't laugh. She couldn't.

Throughout the rest of his luncheon, James continued to watch Sam. She continued to giggle and laugh at whatever comments the terrible trio made, probably, James consoled himself, only to be polite. Inwardly, Sam no doubt thought their jokes as coarse and uncouth as she found Ed, Joe, and Lou themselves. The hour James spent watching the salesmen entertain Samantha seemed to last forever. Finally, the agonizing spectacle ended. After paying their bills, everyone made his or her way outside, to return to the office.

While they'd been inside the diner, it had begun to rain. James wished he had an umbrella. He could come to Sam's rescue, sharing his umbrella with her. It would be delightful to walk beside her, close enough to prevent the rain from falling upon either of them. He'd walk slowly, to maximize the time he could spend next to her, savoring her perfume, her gestures, her conversation, and, most of all, her beauty. Unfortunately, he didn't have an umbrella - but Lou had one. The obnoxious salesman was the one to come to Sam's rescue, to walk beside her through the downpour, her hero. Bastard! James thought, scowling at him.

The rain had made the streets and sidewalks slippery. Watch your step, Sam, James thought. He'd hate to see her take a fall on the asphalt or concrete.

No sooner had he thought this thought than it happened. Samantha, stepping from the crosswalk, onto the sidewalk in front of the high-rise building that housed their offices, slipped and fell - hard. That wasn't all. She sprawled on the sidewalk, offering everyone who was near enough to her to see, including James, a view of her ass and genitals. Ed, Joe, Lou, and James himself, as well as others, gasped in astonishment.

"My God!" Ed cried, shocked. "Do you se what I see?"

"Damn!" Lou exclaimed.

"She's a he!" Joe thundered.

It was true! As hard as it was to believe, the beautiful, sexy Samantha was a man - a man with tits who was better looking and more feminine than most women, but a man, nevertheless.

Ed scowled at Samantha. "Freak," he muttered.

Joe and Lou shook their heads at her in disgust as they stepped over her.

James wanted to stop. He wanted to ask whether she was all right. He wanted to help her to her feet. Instead, he left her lying on the sidewalk, in the rain, her private parts exposed to passersby and onlookers, possibly hurt. He remembered the contempt and disgust in which Ed, Joe, and Lou had regarded Sam, and he didn't want to be treated in the same manner. To show any concern, any sympathy, any kindness toward the man who'd passed himself off as a woman would be to incur the same abusive treatment from them that the salesmen showed to Samantha. No doubt, they'd begin calling him a "queer" if he showed any compassion for the fallen secretary. As much as he'd like to help her, he knew that Ed, Joe, and Lou would make his working life a living hell if he did. Feeling like a heel, he followed their lead, stepping over Samantha, to leave her lying on the sidewalk, in the pouring rain, with her ass, cock, and balls on display.

James was ashamed of the way he'd behaved. At heart, he was a decent man. His biggest weakness was that he gave too much thought to what other people might think and say about him. From his earliest childhood days, James had been mindful of other people's opinions and eager to please. As a result, he was easily manipulated and seldom pleased anyone, despite his best and continuous efforts to do so. He'd developed few ideas, beliefs, or values of his own and had only a minimal self. Mostly, he was a reflection of what others thought, felt, believed, and valued - or what he thought they thought, felt, believed, and valued. He was full of contradictions and as changeable as the wind. He'd left Samantha lying on the sidewalk, in the rain, with her mini-skirt bunched around her hips, revealing her buttocks and genitals because of what Ed, Joe, and Lou had said to her and because he didn't want to be called the same names they'd called her. What a hero! he castigated himself. What a knight in shining armor. He'd imagined himself as Sam's rescuer, but had left her lying on the sidewalk, in the pouring rain.

Of course, her cock and balls had shocked him, as they had everyone else. Samantha had been the talk of the office since her mishap. The female employees were a little less cruel than the male, but they also ridiculed Samantha behind her back. Ed, Joe, and Lou not only gossiped about her behind her back, but they were also unkind to her face. On the elevator, they called her "freak," "queer," and "wannabe woman." In the office, they made faces at her. Whenever they accepted a memo or a form or a letter from her, they took the document by its corner, between the thumb and forefinger, as if it might be contaminated. James did none of these things. Instead, he avoided her. He wasn't guilty of insulting her. His sins were sins of omission, rather than sins of commission. He failed to offer Samantha friendship, sympathy, or moral support.

James was amazed at Sam's courage. Although she was obviously hurt by the cruel and insulting comments that Ed, Joe, and Lou heaped upon her and by the gossip among the female employees, she seldom exhibited her feelings, and she never lost her temper. She didn't cry, either, or quit her job. She never approached her boss to plead with him to put an end to her coworkers' abuse. She endured it, perhaps because, unlike James, she knew and loved herself well and was true to who she was. Other people's opinions might annoy her, but she wouldn't live her life by what others thought of her. She had valor. She had honor.

She was beautiful, too, as beautiful as the first day James had seen her, and he found that he continued to think about her and to fantasize about her. He continued to desire her. He was bothered by his feelings for her, because, he supposed, his infatuation with a transsexual meant that he must be gay. After all, despite her feminine appearance, Samantha - or Sam - did have a cock and balls. As days became weeks, he found himself thinking more and more of Samantha, remembering how she'd looked, sprawled on the sidewalk, in the pouring rain, her mini-skirt scrunched up to reveal her penis and testicles. He no longer found the idea of her having male genitals repugnant or offensive. Rather, the incongruity of a woman with a cock and balls was exciting. It was arousing. It gave him the stiffest, longest, thickest erection he'd ever had. Was he a queer? Even this question, which had troubled him before, no longer bothered him. If being attracted to a gorgeous creature like Sam meant that he was a queer, very well, then, he was a queer.

More and more, James masturbated to visions of himself making love to Samantha, imagining his lips on her soft, luscious lips, his hands upon her round, silken breasts, his cock between her sleek, full buttocks. His orgasms were more intense and pleasurable than any he'd ever had, either as a result of fucking a genetic female or from masturbating, and he'd shoot geysers of thick, hot semen all over his chest and belly, decorating himself with pools of his liquid passion, like melted pearls, as mementos of his love for the world's most gorgeous shemale.

A month after Sam had taken the nasty spill on the rain-slick sidewalk, James decided to ask her for a date. He had no choice. If he didn't, he'd go insane.

Of course, he'd have to wait for the right moment. He'd have to catch her alone. If anyone else in the office found him even so much as chatting with Sam, let alone asking her for a date, he'd be as scorned and reviled as Samantha herself.

James' chance came on Wednesday of the same week he'd determined to invite her to dinner and a movie. He was working late. Everyone else had left the office, Sam included. The cleaning crew had come and gone, and James was alone at his desk, a mountain of paperwork to clear, when Samantha's voice startled him.

"Hello, James," she said.

He jerked upright in his chair.

"Don't worry," Sam said, "I'm not here to jump your bones." She held up her purse. "I forgot this."

"That's not why I jumped. I thought I was alone. You startled me."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She turned to leave. James looked at her ass, through the tight slacks she was wearing. His cock stirred at the sight of the sleek, round mounds. "Wait! Don't go."

She paused, turning, and James' gaze went to her breasts. "Why not?" she asked. "You have a new insult for me? Another joke at my expense? A vile name you haven't called me yet?"

"I haven't insulted you," James reminded her. "I haven't told any jokes about you, either, and I haven't called you any names other than 'Samantha.'" He paused, swallowed. "In fact," he admitted, "I'm attracted to you."

She laughed.

"Really," James insisted. "I am."

"Right."

"Seriously."

"Oh?" She waited, hands crossed below her magnificent breasts, her expression indicating that she knew some insensitive remark or offensive comment would be forthcoming.

James nodded. "I can't get the thought of you out of my mind."

Sam's posture relaxed somewhat, but she remained wary. "My having a penis and testicles doesn't bother you?"

"On the contrary, I find them unbelievably exciting. Fascinating, really."

"I didn't know you were gay."

"I'm not, or, if I am, I didn't know it, either, until I met you."

Sam lowered her arms. "You're really attracted to me?"

"'Attracted' is too mild. I'm obsessed with you. I can't eat or sleep or think because of you. In fact, I've been wanting to invite you to dinner and a movie."

Her eyes glittered. "You have?"

"Yes."

She smiled, as if she were flattered to hear of James' infatuation with her. Then, her eyes hardened. "Then, why have you allowed those pinheads, Ed, Joe, and Lou to insult me? Why have you let the ladies in the office gossip about me behind my back? Why haven't you said anything or done anything to defend me or to protect me?

"I wanted to," James confessed, "but - well, it's just that - "

"You didn't want to be insulted and affronted the way I was?"

He nodded before hanging his head. "Yes."

"That's too bad," she said. "I was attracted to you, too, before I realized what a timid little milquetoast you are. It was obvious to me that you were attracted to me. It was obvious to me that you didn't share the opinions of the others who've insulted and abused me since their discovery of my little secret. I thought you were good looking and kind, but you're only good looking. There's nothing kind about standing by and watching idiots and losers like Ed, Joe, and Lou torment someone for no other reason than her being a woman trapped inside a man's body. I'd hoped you might be a knight in shining armor, but you turned out to be more a mouse than a man."

James looked up at her, his eyes brimming with tears. "You're right," he admitted. "Give me another chance. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

She sniggered, contempt on her lovely face. "You had your chance, James. I could have been the best girlfriend you ever had - and the best lay - but you're not man enough to know what you want. You're too afraid of what others might think or say. You could have had me, but now, loser that you are, you have no one."

She turned, walking across the carpeted office, toward the door that led to the elevator in the hallway.

"Please," James moaned, "give me another chance."

She never bothered to look back, and she didn't return to work the next day.

The last James ever saw of the shemale who could have been the love of his life was her splendid, tight ass as she walked away from him. 



Samantha, American Succubus



 I cooked this up as fast as possible so feel free to tear my ass up in the comments :P

*****

Okay, so maybe I was a guy in a past life. That's what people tell me because my tugging is so good. I know you're thinking I'm full of shit right now but I could put 20 dollars down that I can jack a guy off better than you. Hell if you're a guy I could jack you off better than you. I can make it better than in a snatch.

Sure I give decent head too and all, but I'm proud of where my real talent is. Because sucking a guy off or letting him get inside you is so personal to me. A dick is just skin. And you have jizz, which a lot of chicks think is gross, or at least pretend to. I don't want to be swallowing a stranger's nut because it's unhealthy but the chances of catching anything from a handy are low. You can't even call it living dangerously, you put yourself at a bigger risk driving to work. 

What puts me over the other girls is that I actually put my sluttiness to use. You wouldn't believe how many problems in this world could be solved by getting the relevant parties to ejaculate. It's just a fucking massage. Y'know, just on their dick. Alright, cliffsnotes version: I'm a slut. Before we jump into this story I know you want to hear about my body.

I call myself curvy and I don't misuse it like most of the fat bitches you see around. But if you don't like thick girls well this may be the wrong diary for you. If I never worked out I'd look like a wildebeast, and still maybe there's some basement dwelling loser who would call me fat, but at least I have the proportions. My bra size is 38G, God's apology to my plump ass. If you're not familiar with the size system, I basically have to carry two women's basketballs. They look as milky as my big, toned thighs. Then there's my ass, which makes my tits look like mosquito bites.

I have to do weight training to keep everything firm and I've even got a story about that for later. I guess I'm just that girl that (supposedly) every black guy jerks off to. Phat ass white girl? Sure. I'm about 5'8" but don't worry short guys, I'm not a height nazi. So finally, now that the boring shit is through let me tell you how I became the unsung hero of my university.

It was homecoming week, what a bore. I usually spend my time either at the gym or studying. Or fucking the guy who should be doing the studying for me. Today I was eating lunch outside with my friend Alex. If you think this is the part where I describe my dream lover, guess again. Alex was a loser. A short, lanky, balding, squeaky voiced nerd. He was a sweet, nice guy to make up for all of that, but that's just not what we go for. I really, really wished I was attracted to him. I wished he was gay because I knew he was hopelessly in love with me since fucking high school. He'd saved my Calculus grade there and I kept him along ever since.

It was a nice day and I perhaps unwisely chose to wear a tanktop. My voluptuous tits were just pouring onto the metal table. They give my back such a hard time I just have to rest them on something when I sit. But the cleavage was too much for Alex. 

Have you ever had a zit and noticed people looking at your forehead? Well, boys, please take notice of that the next time you think you can be discreet about looking all the way down to a bitch's chest. You might as well stare because we know when you're peeking.

He was admittedly a virgin and he proved it with his stuttering and drooling as he studied how obscenely my breasts stretched my tanktop for air. After eating in silence he finally said: "So uh, Sam".

"Hmm?"

"You hear about the homecoming game?"

"Yeah, I heard about it. Of course."

"Ah-Are you going?"

"Probably not."

No response.

I waited to see if he would would nut up. He did not. He bit into his sandwich with that poor I-might-just-shoot-myself look on his face. I said: "Well if you want to go, we can go."

He lit up like a fucking christmas tree. "Alright, cool. I'll pick you up tonight."

"It's alright. I can drive, cowboy."

"Okay."

And this whole time Alex was staring at my tits on and off. I dropped my ketchup packet and bent down under the table to pick it up. I saw the subtle bulge in his pants. Okay, I'll admit that part of me enjoys turning Alex on. But I didn't hold my tongue here. "Alex what the hell?"

"Oh. Oh."

"Come on you pervert."

"Shit I'm sorry Sam I didn't mean to. It's just."

"Just what?"

"I hear about you and all these guys around here and it just makes me feel weird okay?"

"What do you hear?"

"Th-that you fuck every one of them."

Oh Jesus. A handjob always turns into head or anal when you're bragging to your frat bros. And it scared me that word was finally getting around. "And why does that concern you?"

"Because...come on. I hear that they're practically strangers. What about me? I helped you through high school, I helped you through all your shitty exes...and I just. I feel like you ignore the hell out of me."

He was tearing up. His eyes were seriously red. Alex was just a sad guy. He talked to me about loneliness and I guess I ignored him most of time, texting other friends and whatnot, but now it struck me where he was at. "Alright, Alex. Come with me." I stood up.

"Where?"

"Come."

University parking garage. I walked him to the back, him saying "where are we going" and me telling him to shut up. Not a fancy place but it's got enough privacy to get business done. We stood between a Dodge and a pink slugbug. I usually only gave handies for favors but considering he'd done favors for me for years he could get a little recompense. 

"Listen to me," I said.

He nodded.

"You're stressed out, and you need a little relief. I can see that. But this isn't a thing between us."

"Okay."

I unzipped his trousers and reached in. Hairy, the single celibate hairy. I pulled out his rock hard five inch penis. 

"It's small, isn't it?"

"Shush. I've seen smaller." I held it in the palms of my hand like a rose. He was uncut so my job was a whole lot easier. I started stroking, making sure to attack the glans with a upward thrust at the end of the stroke. With my free hand I dug into my tanktop and heaved out a hulking tit with a hardened nipple. As detached as I was to all this, it always got a little sexual.

Alex was whimpering in pleasure. 

"You like this Alex?" I put his hand on my exposed tit. Dirty talk would make this over quicker. "You've been such a good boy to me. I just need you to do one more favor and cum."

His precum salivated copiously and that gave me all the lube I needed to make this one of my finest quickies. Now I was able to be mercilessly tight with my grip and still see it slide across his dick, the short length making the strokes all the more rapid. With both his foreskin and his virginity intact I'm sure he was at a height of nirvana few men get to experience. I was going so fast I doubt he could separate the pleasure of one stroke from the next, my hand was just an erotic machine he'd stuck his dick in. Shit. I was liking this. His euphoric face. The slimy dick I had in my blurring hands. 

"Unnngh, unngh." He was close, real close. I didn't tell him who's car we were next to, but it was Nicole Anders. Swedish bitch. She was about to get a new decal. "Aww, you wanna give me all that cum now?" I purred in Alex's ear.

"Unngh. Uunnngh. UUNNNGH-"

I turned his dick towards Nicole's door and saw the magic. This nearly got me wet. Alex for all his weakness was as virile as a horse. I felt his dick contract and I pumped all the more harder as Alex almost painfully shot his first rope like a water gun and hit the hot pink paint, and then the second. The second was just a gush that you could hear from ten feet away. He ejaculated that one with a yelp, his dickhole probably couldn't handle the mass of it. 

You couldn't miss the thick whiteness, his balls seemed to have summoned every sperm in his body to exploit the one sexual encounter he was likely to have. It hit the car like drippy glue . The third was just a almost as impressive and the fourth even more so. There wasn't a single drop on my still pumping hand, his trajectory was so strong. The shots kept coming. 

"Good boy. Such a good boy." At his seventh rope I at least got to feel some wet warmth. His cock pumped out about three more before dripping on my hand. I licked it off.

Alex leaned back against the opposite car, breathing heavy and as spent as a loose wallet. His swollen cock deflating into a little peanut. "We should clean that up", he said.

"No. I'm impressed." The door now looked like some avant garde painting.

That night. It was nearly halftime at the homecoming game. I had halfway ditched Alex. For all his talk, once he got what he wanted from me he was distant.

I was looking at the abysmal scoreboard. We were down 24 points. Our team was the Sea Otters, and ironically we were about as threatening of a team. I looked at the quarterback of theirteam, this beast of a man, his black face behind the helmet as he made these evasive plays. His name was Anton something. We just couldn't get a hold of him.

"Sam!"

I was standing at the fence by the cheerleaders and I turned to see an old acquaintance, Bart, some yards away. 

"Yes?"

He walked over to me. Dressed in his southern woodland camo. "He's fast aint he?"

"Yeah."

"Well I think we could probably slow him down around halftime you know."

"If you guys hustle, sure."

"No. I mean..."

"What do you mean?" Art was the kind of hillbilly where you never know what they're trying to get at. Always plotting something.

"Look, they're so far ahead at halftime they won't be planning much. They aint gone' be in the lockers long."

"Alright. And?"

"Well, let's say maybe you're in there."

"Okay."

"And he's in there."

"What the fuck? You want me to poison him?"

"No, no. Just fucking get him off. You've whacked off nearly every one of them boys on our team and it was usually before practice. They'd be so tired they couldn't pull their weight."

"Well he's not going to be dumb enough to do that."

Their quarterback was currently celebrating a touchdown pass by doing the rap dance du jour. "Yes he is. Cocky motherfucker. Look, Sam half of us have money on this game."

"We suck. Why would you bet on us?" 

"Look just do this. For the team. Just stand outside the locker and wait for him to come out."

I shook my head. "Fuck. All of you are splitting your winnings with me. 50-50."

"What?"

"Does it look like you have a choice?"

He thought and said "I guess not. But this better work."

Halftime. Me standing outside the locker room like a hooker. Well if I wasn't the fucking whore of Babylon what was I? Their players started coming out. A few checked me out and kept walking. Shit. I needed to to look sluttier. I took my jacket off and pulled my tanktop down to give my cleavage a boost.

The star walked out. "Hey," I said.

He turned. "Ay." 

"You look like you could use a little halftime fun."

He smiled and sneered: "Girl I ain't gotta pay for it." 

Yep, definitely looked like a hooker. "This one's on the house."

He was looking me up and down, drinking in my pawg build. "Aight." 

Inside the locker room he told the waterboy to bounce. He was still in his uniform and it probably wasn't all coming off. He laid down on the bench and pulled his pants to his knees. Then the jockstrap came off and a eight inch skyscraper erected. He was circumcised so I got my lube out of my purse. I took my shirt off. My huge tits in my huge bra. I reached behind my back and soon the bra was falling and my breasts where hanging in their full glory. Perfectly round and thick.

"Aww yeah," he muttered. 

Hands lubed up, I started at the base of his thick dick and worked my way up. A little slow. 

This was a delicate situation. Anton had probably been with women more attractive than me, numerous times. A quick handy was not going to leave him exhausted like it did Alex. At the same time, I didn't have time to work him off slowly. If I ran out of time and sent him to the field edged he'd have enough testosterone to run over a linebacker. He had to come buckets, and he had to come buckets sometime in the next three minutes. Probably wasn't walking out of here with my dignity.

I stood over the sweaty athlete and let my tits fall into his mouth while My outstretched hand pumped and twisted on his cut frenulum. "Suck on them." He did, hard. My other tit he held in his hand ritually. 

"Don't stop." He was enjoying it, but not enough. It wasn't the kind of epic ecstasy I saw in Alex earlier. More like-a massage on his dick. 

"I want you inside me," I whispered. Take one for the team.

He didn't give me a chance to recant. He reached and pulled my leggings and panties down. He lifted me up with his huge arms and he sat me on his huge dick. No time to slide, I took the whole thing with gravity. "Ow!"

Then he reached around to my back so he could pull me in face to face. Chest to chest. He was using his strong hips to thrust despite my weight. 

"Yeah girl." He grabbed two handfus of each ass cheek but I had plenty left over. I figured I had about a minute left to get him to come. But he was deep in my pussy, stretching me out. It was time to finish this. I'd been practicing my kegels for a long time and I now had my first victim. Anton thought my pussy was tight before, now his dick was being clenched in a vacuum. 

Knocks on the door. "Anton?" said the waterboy. 

"I need you to come inside me sweetie," I whispered.

He sighed with a smile. "Nah. I'm on the clock." He stopped thrusting. "We can finish later".

Now or never. "Well, I'm on the pill," I said as I began riding him, clenching as hard as I possibly could. "Show me how a winner comes."

"Oh god..." His dick was in heaven. The thing about skinny bitches is their weight doesn't press down into their pussy. I had that advantage as well. What sent him over the edge was seeing my tits bounce up and down as I rode him. We were breeding like animals with huffs and puffs and groans. Then I felt him get even harder.

"Here it is baby." He grunted and I felt his seed fill me. Then it was my turn. My vagina contracted and every drop of his Africian fertilizer was accepted into my cervix as he shot into it.

"Oh god, yes."

Third quarter of the game was our big defensive comeback. Anton had been drained of his life energy. Sacks on almost every drive. Billy smoking a cigarette next to me, puffed and said: "You fucked that boy good."

"Yes. Yes I did and I want my fucking share when this is over."

"Alright. Well at least you're our hero for the next few weeks."

"Well don't fucking tell anyone, that's not what we agreed on."

"What? I'm just saying you should, to balance out the shit storm that's coming down on you."

"What shit storm?"

"Uh, Nicole's car? Word gets around you know."

"Where's the proof I did that?"

"Proof is everyone knows you've been jerking people off there. Professor Johnson for the grade, that one yuppie fuck for gas, Earle said you got him off to do your biology project...'s a lotta fuckin people Sam."

"You forgot someone."

"Okay, me. For weed. But Nicole's got a lot of connections here. She said she's getting ready to go after you."

"Yeah, let's see that happen. You're on my side, right?"

He clutched my ass. "Sure, long as I get some of this tonight." Yeah. Guys are reliable like that.



Samantha and Bill



It was five o'clock Friday evening as I walked in the front door of my house and began shedding clothes on my way to the shower. As the water was coming to temperature I looked at my face in the mirror. I'm not a vain man by any definition, but every so often I just need to see what if any changes have occured since my last perusal.

My hair is light brown and in the last few years there has been a noticeable retreat of my hairline. If it kept going I vowed to shave it bald instead of fighting it. 

My eyes were a crystal clear blue that all of my former girlfriends enjoyed looking into so deeply that at times I actually felt self conscious about it. They all commented on how those blue orbs were the first thing they noticed when they looked at my face.

My nose had a slight hook to it. The result of a fight in high school when the guy I was fighting gave me an unexpected head butt and broke my nose. I won the fight and the hearts of several girls. One of whom was my sister Samantha's best friend Angela. I smiled as I remembered Angela coming to my room to see if I was OK.

My mouth always had a permanent grin. The corners of my lips had always been upturned. I thought the smile gave me a look of quiet confidence. 

Not an ugly face, but not the face of a male model either.

I usually only did my inspections in between girlfriends. This was no exception. Stephanie, my last girlfriend had broken up with me just a little over a month ago. Same old story. She loved me but didn't know if she was in love with me. Just like my other girlfriends she used the most stupid reason for breaking up with me. "You are such a good man. I don't deserve to be with you." Give me a fucking break. If I am so good then stick around and become the woman that deserves me.

I sigh as I turn around and step into the now warm shower. I let the water wash over me. Letting my mind go blank as I begin to wash away the sweat and grime from work. Five minutes later I step from the shower feeling all new and shiny. As I dry off I begin to wonder if or when I will ever find that one woman who wasn't afraid to be treated good for the rest of her life.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and went to the kitchen to start dinner. I was debating what to cook when the phone rang. The caller ID showed it was my sister Samantha calling. "What's up Sam?" I asked when I answered. 

"SSDD. What are you doing right now?"

"Getting ready to grill a steak I think."

"Got one for your little sis?"

"Sure come on over. Door's unlocked so just let yourself in when you get here."

I left the kitchen and began to pick up the trail of clothes from my entry when she walked in the door. "Let me guess. You called from your car in my driveway." It was more of a statement than a question.

"You know me so well Bill."

"Give me a few to change and I'll get the grill going. You know where the drinks are so help yourself."

"You don't have to change just because I'm here." She said coyly.

I shook my head as I picked up the rest of my clothes on the way to my room dumping them in the clothes basket when I got there. I grabbed a fresh t shirt from the closet and pulled on a pair of denim shorts, going commando. When I got back to the kitchen Samantha was tipping a beer to her lips. This was a little shocking since wine was her drink of choice. I always kept at least two bottles on hand just in case she dropped by. The beer was usually for when my friends stopped by to watch a game on my flat screen. I didn't drink any more. I quit a few years back when I woke up next to a stripper in her apartment three years ago. 

I had gone out to get over another break up and found myself at a so called gentleman's club.I spent almost $400 on dinks and lap dances. Most of the dances had been courtesy of the girl I woke up with. When "Candy" woke up she was just as out of it as I was and was polite at first before trying to rush me out the door. I drove home hoping that I had had the sense to wear a condom. I vowed that if I did not get an STD I would swear off all alcohol in the future. It still amazed Samantha and my friends that I could sip iced tea while they all got hammered around me.

"Make a salad while I get these things burning on the grill." I said on my way out the door. I soon had the steaks going and went back in for a glass of that tea. Samantha was chopping tomatoes when I came in. With the onions, olives, mushrooms and peppers she had already diced this looked like a great salad in the making.

As I poured my tea I took a look at my sister. We had always been confused for twins growing up, in spite of the fact I was two years older. She had the same brown hair, now with blonde highlights which made her look twenty instead of her almost thirty years. The same blue eyes. And I was sure if my nose were straight it would look very similar to hers. She even had the same upturn at the corners of her mouth that gave her more of an impish expression all the time.

My eyes strayed to Samantha's body. At 5'9" she was five inches shy of my 6'2". Her long well muscled legs were bare up to mid thigh where her skirt started. The skirt was an airy cotton dyed a light blue that almost matched her eyes. Her blouse was also light blue and the bottom hem was just above her recently pierced navel. I had given her crap about the piercing when she got it, but I actually thought it looked good on her. Her body was well toned from yoga, which she had been doing since college. I marveled at her 36D breasts. I noticed as she began to toss the greens and other ingredients how her breasts had just the right amount of bounce to them. As usual she was not wearing a bra and the swaying of her breasts had started her nipples to react. I saw her look over at me checking her out and quickly took a sip of tea. I could swear she smiled as I headed out saying I needed to flip the steaks.

Five minutes later we were digging in with gusto into both the steaks and the salad. Samantha had grabbed another beer to drink with dinner.

"Slumming tonight I see."

She smiled and said "You're awfully observant tonight." Not making any attempt to hide the double entendre suggesting my earlier interest in her body. She giggled lightly as she saw my cheeks redden.

We moved on to other subjects quickly. Samantha and I had this great rapport that at times was silly but could quickly change to downright raunchy. Several times over the years we gotten some very strange looks from people until we realized the subject matter we were loudly chatting about. A few of Samantha's boyfriends had suggested that our repartee crossed boundaries that bordered on incest and were so sigusted they soon left her.

Samantha and I had similar personalities and a similar history of dating only to get dumped. Her break ups usually had to do with her boyfriends being jealous of our relationship. After the last break up she came over and downed two bottles of red before stating that the two of us should sleep together since everyone seemed to think we were doing it any way. With her eyes twinkling from her state of inebriation and the perpetual smile I couldn't tell if she was serious or not. I carried her to the spare room that night after she passed out. 

As I laid her down her skirt rode up so I could see her panties. I saw Samantha in bikinis all the time, but for some reason seeing her panties caused an immediate reaction in my groin. I pulled the skirt down before covering her with a light blanket.

I must have been out of it for a while remembering that night. I felt something bounce off my forehead and snapped back to the here and now. "Earth to Bill. What were you thinking about just now?"

I couldn't come very well tell her so I said. "Still thinking about Stephanie. Why? What were you saying?"

"I was asking if you wanted to watch a movie with me. But if you're going to be a girl all night I'll go."

"Go pick something and I'll be in after I load the dish washer."

She shook her head and I thought I heard her call me a girl one more time as she went to the living room.

"You need another beer Sam?" I called before I left the kitchen.

"Bring me some of that tea you drink. I'm not really in the mood for drinking tonight. That's why I was slumming." 

I carried the two iced teas to the living room and set hers down in front of her on the coffee table. She let me settle into the couch before moving herself and her drink right next to me. She grabbed the remote and hit the play button. She snuggled up against my arm and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over her long legs. Soon I was hearing the familiar tune of "She" by Elvis Costello as the film Notting Hill started. It was one of Samantha's favorite movies and truth be told I kind of liked it too. 

About an hour into the film I realized that Samantha's hand was resting on my thigh just about half way between my knee and my crotch. I began to get lost in the movie once again and forgot all about her hand. I knew that Samantha was crying about the break up scene. It always made her cry. I put my arm around her and gave a reassuring squeeze. As she slid herself tighter against me her hand moved up my thigh to rest just below my crotch and, to my dismay, my quickly growing hard on.

I watched as the blanket slid from Samantha's legs. I had always been a leg man and seeing Sam's well tone legs lit by the glow of the TV coupled with her hand's proximty to my groin had me feeling both horny and confused. Confused because I shouldn't be thinking these thoughts about my sister. Horny because my sister was a very desirable woman and I was after all just a man.

The living room was pretty dark and I hoped that Sam couldn't see my growing bulge. As the movie finally came to the ending credits Sam slid upright and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. I could feel my cheek warming from the spot of the kiss outward. I was still reacting to the kiss when Sam threw her leg across mine and sat her butt on my knees while straddling my legs with hers.Her arms atop my shoulders, hands linking fingers behind my neck.

"Sam what..." Before I could finish her mouth was locked to mine and her tongue was eagerly probing my mouth. I hesitated the beat of my heart before wrapping my arms around her waist and returning the passionate kiss.

Our mouths were mashed together for what seemed like hours. In reality the kiss lasted only the length of the ending credits. It was at once the most incredible kiss I had ever shared with anyone. I felt so much conflict once our mouths finally parted. Here I was with my sister kissing me and me not wanting it to stop. But the one thought holding me back was the fact she was my sister.

"I have wanted to do that for fifteen years." Sam said.

I was still too numb to speak.

"I never told you, or anyone for that matter, that I saw you take Angela's virginity. I heard about the fight and someone said your nose was bleeding. I ran home to see if you were OK. As I walked in the house I knew something was going on. When I got to your bedroom I could hear heavy breathing. The door was open about six inches so I peeked in. There you were with Angela and both of you were naked. I could see your cock as Angela laid back and opened her legs. I saw you stop and ask her something I couldn't hear. I assume it was to make sure she really wanted what was happening. Then you thrust inside her. I heard her groan of pain. Then she nodded at you. 

Soon you were moving back and forth and she was moaning again. This time in pleasure. Without knowing I had moved my hand to my pussy and I was rubbing myself hard. I left and went to my room when I realized what I was doing. I fingered myself to orgasm for the first time that day. Wishing the whole time that my fingers were your cock. I was a little jealous of Angela for some time after that day."

My cock right now was throbbing in time to my heart beat. I felt like I was going to blow a nut in my shorts.

"So what now?" I finally asked.

"Now I want to feel this..." her hand grabbed my cock for emphasis and I almost came at her touch"...inside my pussy."

"Sam." I started. Before the next word could come Sam's blouse was lifted over her head and softly hit the floor behind the couch.Her nipples were standing out the size of my pinkie finger round and a little over a 1/4 inch long. Her areolas were slightly larger than a silver dollar. I thought they would be bigger given her 36D's but I was still impressed.

My head moved on its own and my mouth found her right nipple and I began to suck and lick it hungrily. Samantha began to moan loudly as I moved to take care of her left nipple as well.

"Take me to your room Bill."

I placed my hands on Sam's ass and stood as I pulled he body tight to mine. Her legs were wrapping around my waist and her tits mashed against my chest when I was fully standing. Her skirt had ridden all the way up and was bunched at her waist.When I took the first step away from the couch my bulging trouser snake nudged her pussy. A low moan escaped her lips. I walked to the bedroom carrying my sister. With every step her pussy rubbing my cock. I knew I wouldn't last long if this kept up.

I laid Sam carefully on my bed. My shirt came off in a flash. I looked down and saw that Sam wasn't wearing panties. Sam reached back for the button and zipper on her skirt. She got frustrated when she couldnt find them right away. I pulled her off the bed and did the honors for her. As soon as the skirt was past her hips she spun around and placed another long kiss on my mouth. I felt her fingers going for the button of my shorts. Soon I was wiggling my legs until I could step out of them without breaking our kiss. Sam pressed in so that we were in full contact along the front of our bodies. My hands made their way to those luscious nipples and as I pulled on her left nipple Sam's hand reached for my cock.

My right hand, emboldened by Sam's actions, slid down her stomach in search of her pussy. My finger rubbed over the sheath of her clit and her hips moved to give me better access. I plied my middle finger between her legs and felt the heat and moisture of her slit. As I drew my hand back lightly the heel of my hand brushed against her now emerged clit. Sam was moaning so loud it vibrated through both our bodies.

Sam broke the kiss and climed into my bed. "I need to feel you inside me right now!" A command I was more than willing to obey at this point.

As I climbed into bed next to her I thought that there was nothing we had done so far that couldn't be excused. I looked into Sam's eyes and saw the hunger. Her face had a now fierce cast to it that both excited me further but also had me feeling a little bit intimidated.

Sam pushed me roughly to my back. I think she sensed my relunctance to go any further. There was no doubt of her intent to make this happen and I was not going to talk her out of it. Her body slid on top of mine and her hand reached for my cock as she lifted her hips from my waist. Positioning the head of my seven inch cock to her honey dripping pot she pushed herself all the way down in one fast thrust of her hips. A tight scream escaped her lips and she sat there for a full two minutes letting her body adjust to the sudden invasion. 

Slowly her hips began to move. Knowing that it was done I let her take control of tempo while I began to play with those milk cans swaying in my face. 

I found her left nipple with my right hand and just cupped it with my right palm. My left hand sought out her right breast and I pinched the nipple and tugged it gently. The contrast of hard and soft made Sam stop for a second as her pussy lightly convulsed. She began her humping action again and I switched the pressure, going soft with my left hand and pulling the nipple taut with my right. Sam's moans were coming from deep in her belly and I was getting dangerously close to cumming. I clamped my mouth to Sam's left nipple and ran my tongue around the areola lightly flicking it against her nipple before catching it softly between my teeth and sucking hard. My right hand snaked down between our bodies. I was looking for her clit once again. My thumb brushed against the nub and Sam bucked against my hips like I hit her with a stun gun. Once again I sought it out and was rewarded with "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK...OH GOD I'M GOING TO CUMMMM." Her pussy began to grip my cock and the suction was so intense I instantly blew my load of cum deep inside my sister's cunt. Pulse after pulse of steaming cum splashing against her cervix. 

Oce her orgasm subsided Sam's lips were locked to mine and we laid there in post coital bliss just enjoying our new relationship. Neither wanting to speak. In spite of having just cum my dick was still hard. A few of my girlfriends enjoyed the fact that I could maintain my erections through at least three of my own orgasms. Sam was about to get a real big surprise.

I rolled us over so that I was now in top. Sam looked into my eyes as I began to pump my seven inch cock inside her. My mouth found hers, as for the first time I initiated the kiss. I kept a pace similar to the one that Sam had used when she was riding me. Soon she was pulling back and thrusting forward at the hips to match what I was doing. I slid my pole until just the head was being held inside her pussy and stopped. Her hands began to tug at my ass wanting me to thrust back inside and her hips kept tring to lift as well. I heard a small cry of frustration try to escape her lips before I plunged fullly inside her once more. her fingers were working her clit furiously as I redoubled my assault of her silken love tunnel. I could tell she was getting close to cumming once again and slowed my thrusts for several beats before pounding away with complete abandon once again. Sam dug her nails into my back and her thighs clamped tight around my waist in her second orgasm of the night. I waited until her thighs loosened their strangle hold before I began moving again, going for my own second O.

This time I just kept a single pace letting my cock slide halfway out before plunging back so that my balls slapped against her ass. Sam grabbed her knees and pulled her legs up to her tits to give me batter access to her depths. We were bathed in a sheen of sweat and Sam's hair was plastered to her face and shoulders. My steady pace was getting good results as I could see Sam's eyes begin to glass over. My own orgasm was close so I held it back with a force of sheer will. Sam began to buck wildly as her third orgasm shook her body and I finally sent another wave of my seed inside her pussy losing count of each pulse of cum that shot out.

I once again rolled us over so that Sam was on top. Sam pulled lowered her face to mine and began to kiss me lightly on the lips. A true lovers kiss. She held her lips to mine for a minute before she felt that my shaft was still steel hard and not moving inside her.

"Get on your hands and knees." I commanded.

Without asking a word she slid my fuck stick out of her tight hole and assumed the position I asked for. I got to my knees behind her and once again drove my pole home. Sam's legs buckled slightly from the sensation and I had to grip her hips to keep her from collapsing. 

Once she was steady I began to probe her depths with my cock. I brought my right hand around from her waist and soon found her clit with my thumb. As I held my hand there I could feel my balls slap against it with each forward thrust. I moved my hand out of the way and heard Sam squeal with delight each time my balls made contact with her sensitive nub. Producing a wet splat as my sack became soaked in her juices with each swing.

Sam's next orgasm was fast and furious as I found her g spot with the head of my cock. I kept up the pace as her arms collapsed. Her hips held up by my arms once again gripping her there. And her fifth orgasm followed as soon as her fourth had subsided. There was so much fluid pulsing from our combined juices I was feeling no friction. She was begging me to stop but my ears had quit working from the blood pulsing through them with every beat of my heart. I was nearing my final O and finally my cock thickened and my balls began their tingling withdrawl before my sperm was once again flowing into my sisters well lubricated snatch. Her pussy juices flowing so freely the sheets were completely sodden beneath her knees.




Samantha and Bill



I finally pulled out and laid back on the bed. Sam stayed in position with her ass up in the air and her face buried in the sheets. I could see my cum begin to ooze from her pussy and her hand came out to catch it as it did. I saw her hand disappear and I could hear her slurping my cum from her palm.

Sam rose from the bed and looked at me over her shoulder as she walked out to the hall on wobbly legs. I was afraid she was leaving but I had no strength to rise up and follow her. My fears were unfounded as she returned a minute later holding two glasses of water. I reached for the proffered cup and downed over half in a two big gulps. I then set the glass on my night stand. Sam had drained most of her water as well and her glass joined mine. She crawled on top of me and kissed my lips tenderly once again.

"That was so fucking amazing Bill. I have never cum like that before."

"You're not sorry it happened?" I asked.

"Only that we didn't do this sooner."

"I love you Sam. When we do this again I want to get in a little foreplay though."

"I love you too Bill. I couldn't wait tonight it would have driven me mad if you had delayed. That's why I took control first."

"I was on the fence right up until you climbed aboard and started your ride. I just wish I could have run my hands up and down your legs."

" Why don't you do that now? I would love to feel your hands caress me all over."

For the next twenty minutes my hands felt every inch of both legs and Sam was purring like a kitten when I finally slid my body up hers and kissed her lightly on the lips. I rolled off and slid up tight to her as she rolled to her side so that I could hold her in spoons as we drifted off to sleep.

I woke to an empty bed. However I could smell coffee and there was definitely something cooking. I rolled out of bed went to the bathroom and took my morning piss and quickly brushed my teeth. As I walked into the kitchen Sam was standing at the counter wearing absolutely nothing but a smile. I slid behind her and kissed her neck as my arms circled her waist. My right index finger found her belly ring and I ran my finger around it.

"Morning lover." she said before turning around to kiss me on the lips.I saw the stack of waffles she had produced and my mouth began to water. I poured some coffee for both of us and heated the syrup in the microwave while the last waffle was cooking. We both ate heartily sitting side by side and stealing little touches all through breakfast. 

After we cleaned up I took her fully into my ams and gave her a full open mouth kiss which we mutually broke after just a minute.

I spoke first. "So where do we go from here? After last night I know I don't want anybody else. But if this was a one time thing you need to let me know right now."

Sam pulled me tight to her body and wrapped her right leg behind both of my legs while placing her hands behind my neck. She looked into my eyes and smiled. "Where we go from here is simple. I move in and you and I spend the rest of our lives enjoying each other. But you are going to have to control that little monster. I almost passed out last night waiting for that third orgasm from you. I am still very tender down there right now."

"Sorry about that. I should have warned you. That was something I discovered by accident several years ago. It has caused a few of my girlfriends to leave me. They didn't think they could keep up with me sexually and worried that I would cheat."

"I'm not afraid of that at all. I know how you feel about cheating. You would rather lose your junk than cheat on a girl."

Her lips brushed mine. "Besides if you ever stick that into another woman without me there I will have it in a jar on a shelf."

"Yes dear." Then I smiled as her words sank in "Does that mean we can have a threesome or twenty?" 

With a shake of her head she said "Maybe one day. But for now I want you all to myself."

Sam and I moved her stuff in over the next few weeks. We told everyone that Sam had been evicted because of something her last ex had done and that it just made sense for her to move in with me for a while. We keep some of her things in the spare room for those times when mom and dad visit. But we are going to have a hard time explaining her pregnancy unless we come out in the open. At least to our family and friends. 



Samantha and Bruce



I've not done much of anything in my fifty years; well, other than read books and work. That formula has worked for me till now, but no more. I've finally decided to make a change. Oh me? My name is Bruce Turner: more about me later. 

Working I'd become a major success; Well, if a hundred million in liquid assets can be considered success. My job? I'm self-employed. I buy and sell foreign currencies: not an occupation for the unlettered or the faint of heart. Me, I'm lettered as hell and for damn sure not faint of heart. And, I'm smart.

Hell yes I'm smart. Yeah, well, but maybe not smart enough to actually know how to really live. But, I am intending to change that little reality. All I have to do is figure out how to go about it. The catalyst for me wanting to make a change? A lady who calls herself Lana, no last name. 

It hadn't been much, what she'd said, but it'd stung. "Bruce you've got to get out more. You need to get a life. You've got enough money; start using it to live," she said. 

"I don't know Lana. Sometimes I think you're right about that stuff. I mean, but when would I have time," I said. She gave me a look that screamed, get with it imbecile! and then went back to work. It was real hard trying to concentrate on lifestyle changes, I mean with my cock in her mouth and me twitching on the love seat in front of her. Jesus, she knew how to do that.

Lana was a very talented lady of the evening. I'd purchased her services any number of times. We were, if not actual friends, at least friendly acquaintances. That was the prime reason that I was taking her advice seriously. Physically, Lana's five-four, maybe one-ten, 34-25-34, thirty-nine years old, longish brown hair, eyes to match, and possessed of an ass that can stop traffic. Oh, and a personality that can bewitch a man. Hell, she's bewitched me all to heck.

******

As I sat peering into the bottom of my wine glass—I was drinking port—I had decided to do a one-eighty in terms of my lifestyle. 

"One more, Gilbert," I said. Gilbert Misguez is my favorite bartender; been pouring drinks for me for damn near twenty years: he's the owner and chief barkeep of Panza's Bar and Grill.

My man delivered my third of the day and leaned kind of side-angled against his side of the bar looking at me. "You look like you've got a load on your mind," he said. I looked up at him, and it occurred to me that bartenders knew everything about the social stuff, right?

"You could say that," I said. "Gil, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he said.

"Gil, I need to know just how big of a social loser that I am. I mean—well I mean—do you think that at my age could start doing stuff. You know social stuff?" I said. He looked at me and kinda stepped back as though appraising a potential purchase.

"What are you? Fifty?" he said. I nodded.

"Yeah, you could, but you'd wanna be doin' some changin'," he said.

"Changing?"

"Yes, new clothes. Maybe a different ride." 

"A new car?" I said. "That's a three months old Eldorado sittin' out there. Why would I need a new car? And my clothes..."

"No, no, not a new car, and old one, Maybe a pickup," he said. "And, yes new clothes. You dress like an undertaker. But, there's more to what I'm saying than just that shit."

"Huh?" I said.

"You look dull, Bruce, well off, but dull. Unless you want to be taken to the cleaners by some broad assed gold digger, you need to dress down and a little more colorfully; and, not be so obviously upper middle class. That's my thinking anyway," he said.

"Oh!" I said.

"Yes, oh," he said. "You know how to dance? Anything like that, that kind of stuff? 

"No, no, not really. Never had much time for dancing." He nodded.

"Well, Whaddya do for fun?"

"For fun? I make money," I said. "That's lots of fun." He snickered.

"Yeah, maybe," he said.

We talked a little while longer, but then he got busy, and I was left to thinking about what he'd said. He was right about the gold diggers. That was one of the reasons I got my rocks off with pros like Lana. I'd learned in high school that one couldn't trust the softer sex. Devious didn't even begin to describe them as a group; the occasional exception to the rule notwithstanding. I took stock of myself.

Fifty and rich and dumb looking: pretty much described me. I wasn't tall or handsome or anything that women were likely on the lookout for. Well, at least I wasn't fat; that was something. But again, I was just kinda dumb and nothing looking; I knew it, and it bothered me—a lot.

I needed to change the dumb looking part. New clothes, the man'd said. New clothes but cheap and colorful new clothes. Okay, no problem. I was not at all miffed that Gil had denigrated my three-thousand dollar suit; he was right, I did look like an undertaker. And my car: it screamed old guy, boring, and unimaginative. So, next stops? Stan's Used Cars and Walmart. But, and then what?

I had it! Marge's Dance Studio. It was but three blocks from my office. I passed the damn thing every day. My socialization could start there—maybe.

******

Stan, actually an old high school friend of mine: he the prototypical nerd, me, the other prototypical nerd had each other's backs at Crutchfield High. We'd both skipped college and been successful anyway: he owned four car dealerships, two for used cars and two for new Fords. Me, as earlier described made my money in, well, money. He sold me the ten year-old Silverado for a grand: Faded green, no dents, and a sound drive train. Perfect.

I'd spent a grand to get the pickup, and then I'd driven it to Walmart and spent another grand on clothes. Two days later I found myself nervous, and doubtful of my sanity in front of Marge's Dance and Music Academy.

"Can I help you sir?" said the rail thin thirty something woman, as I entered the largish room.

"You Marge?" I said. She looked like a dancer.

"No, no sir. I just work here," she said.

"Oh. Well, I'd like to take lessons," I said. "How do I go about that?" 

"Classes or private," she said. My defenses automatically went up. I didn't want to tip her to my cash position. But, I did want private at least at first; I decided to hedge my bets.

"I don't know," I said. "How much would the private lessons cost?" I figured that if I had to ask that question that the woman would figure I wasn't wealthy. I congratulated myself for my cleverness.

"Private is $7.50 an hour per person. Classes are $25 monthly for three half hour sessions a week," she said. I breathed a sigh of relief. The private lessons weren't that expensive. I could do those without arousing undue suspicion.

"Okay, I'd like to sign up for two private lessons a week," I said.

"Okay," she said. "But evenings are kinda full right now. Would you be able to come in during the day? Mostly housewives during the day and we do have openings then, you know, people have to work." Oops, another unexpected problem. 

"Uh—yes," I said. "I work mostly evenings, so days would be okay." She smiled. For the first time I smiled; she was kind of frowsy looking, I decided, but could be pretty with the right kinds of female stuff. Even her voice was pretty.

"Wonderful," she said. "Tuesday and Thursday, say 11:00AM be good for you then?" I nodded.

"Yes, that would be perfect," I said. We talked a little bit longer about the dance teacher that I would have and the kind of dancing that I was interested in, and then said our goodbyes.

Just talking to the woman, I didn't even know her name, tipped me that I had to do more than buy me an ancient pickup and don generic duds. I had to have a job. I had to have workmates, a life, any life, other than the one I had. But, what kind of job. All I ever did was talk on the phone to brokers and drink really fine port wine. Shit! I was virtually without any marketable skills.

Back to Panza's. I needed to talk to Gil a little more, maybe a lot more.

******

"So whaddya think?" said Gilbert. I was slowly nodding. 

"Partners, me a silent partner?" I said. 

"Yes, and you'd actually be working in the new one, and maybe occasionally here," he said.

"Let me get this straight. I'd front you the money for the new place. I could make my money back since I'd be half owner of the place. And, I'd get to work there as a bartender. That about it?" I said.

"Exactly it. I've wanted to get that place over on Plumber Avenue, Sancho's B&G, for a long time, but two-hundred grand is a little beyond my reach," he said. "but, between us we could do it."

"But, me a bartender?" I said. I sounded dubious. 

"I'll put Bill Philips in there with you for a few weeks until you got a handle on things. Between him and the workforce that's already there you'll be fine."

"Okay, it's a deal. But, no one is to know that I'm part owner. No one. We cool on that?" I said.

"You know we are," said Gil. We shook. I was feeling really good. I didn't even care if the place made money. I had my cover, my job. My lawyer would be making sure I was insulated against any untoward downsides, i.e., being sued or somebody setting me up to rip me off. I trusted Gil, but a hundred grand can cause good folks to go bad. Oh yes, this was a good deal because I was going to see to it that it was.

******

My first dance lesson was an eye opener. I found out that I not only had two left feet; I also had two broken ankles; well, figuratively speaking at least. Talk about a reclamation project, I was it!

But, Samantha Rubens—the girl's name that had signed me up the week before—didn't laugh at me. Turned out she was pretty good at this stuff, and was willing to be my partner for purposes of my private lessons with Mark Hodges, our common instructor. I couldn't have been happier. Mark was a great guy; and, as I soon discovered, more than competent to teach a nothing like me the ropes, but he was definitely not a girl! Samantha was skinny and pretty in spite of her dowdy clothes and minimal female appurtenances. And, she was also a girl!

For the next several weeks we worked on the chacha, the foxtrot, and the swing. Gilbert, my new business partner and social mentor, knew what was going on of course, but had no inkling of where I was at in terms of my newly acquired dance skills. That truth was about to change.

I'd just come on my shift at Sancho's. "How you doing there mister Turner?" said the man who'd come up behind me. And, yes, I was using my real name, no reason not to.

"Gil—mister Misguez," I said. "You startled me." He laughed.

"Sorry about that, Bruce. But, really, how are you doing?"

"Good. No complaints," I said. "Mister Philips has been more than patient." He nodded, and handed me a card, an invitation.

"Company party at my house, next Saturday. Chance for our employees, and their significant others to socialize, have a little fun," he said. He put extra emphasis on the word socialize. I nodded my understanding. 

"But—I don't have a significant other?" I said. 

"Then you can come and hopefully meet somebody," he said. 

"Okay. I can do that, I guess," I said. He could see I was nervous.

"Bruce it'll be good. You'll see," he said. I nodded.

We talked for another minute or two and then he was off to pass out some more of the invitations to the employees. I stood there looking at the card. It would be my first foray into the world of play. I was already nervous and it was still five days off.

******

"A party? A party with you?" said Samantha.

"Yes, it's at my boss' house," I said. She looked at me kind of—what—sympathetically. "I mean it's okay if you have something else to do. I'll understand."

Samantha and I had gotten to know each other in general terms over the previous weeks. She had a ten year-old daughter, Lindsey. She was a native of Florida and had moved to Ohio just two years previous. And she lived within walking distance of the studio.

"Bruce, no offense, but I'm at least four inches taller than you, and..." she stopped. She could see I was already feeling rejected, down.

"Oh what the heck. It's not like I get a lot of invitations to parties these days," she said. "Okay, it's a date." 

"Great," I said. "Would you like to get a cup of coffee? I mean right now. There's a Winchell's across the street.

She looked askance at me. "You know, Bruce, most guys ask a girl to go for the cup of coffee before they ask for a full blown date. You actually intrigue me," she said.

"Let's go," I said. 

We settled into the worst seats to be found in any restaurant fast food or otherwise in the whole world. But, at that moment, my mind was on one thing and only one thing: how to get this woman who was way out of my league looks-wise—and too young for me—to like me a little, and, to not tip her to who I was other that is, than what I wanted her to know. Okay, that was two things.

"So what do you do for a living, Bruce," she said.

"I tend bar," I said, proudly. Well, I was proud.

"A bartender?" she said. "Figures."

"Figures?" I said.

"No, it's fine. I'm sure you're good at what you do. I was just hoping that you might be a movie star prepping for your next role," she said. I gave her what I was sure was a confused look.

"Oh, you mean the dancing. No, no, not a movie star, I'm afraid. Sorry to disappoint you there," I said. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—demean—you or what you do. It's just..." she started. "I know it's silly of me. You know. But, I came north thinking to meet some rich guy who would sweep me off my feet. Just a little girl's dream?" I ignored her fantasizing.

I interrupted her. "Tell me, Samantha, what do you do? I mean I know you work part time at the studio. But—well—how do you get along otherwise? I know you're not married. But otherwise?" I said. She sighed.

"Welfare, me and my daughter, Lindsey. It's hard, but we make do," she said. "Lindsey's only ten; be eleven in a couple of months." I know my face clouded over. 

"Like I said I know you're single, but no daddy in evidence to help pay the little girl's way?" I said.

"No, he hightailed it when he found out I was pregnant. That was ten years ago. Sad story that," she said.

"I can imagine," I said. She smiled, but it was a wan smile.

"So, a party then?" she said. "Haven't been to one in a while. Actually, quite a while."

"Yes, definitely, this Saturday. Barbecue at my boss' house. Anyway, if you'll give me your address—unless..." I started.

"Unless?" she said, looking me askance.

"Well we don't know each other very well. I mean I'll know where you live..." She laughed.

"No, no, it's all right. I'm a pretty good judge of character." She took out a slip of paper from her purse and wrote down her particulars and handed it to me. "There," she said. I nodded.

"Looking forward to it," I said. She looked momentarily thoughtful.

"You know, I am too," she said. I felt good.

Web talked two-donuts-each long, maybe half an hour. I learned more about her life and times—hard times. She learned a lot about me, mostly bogus stuff, at least in any true sense of the word.

Talking to her made me know that I had one thing to do that couldn't be put off. I'd be taking care of it as soon as we split up to go home.

******

I was a trifle early to pick her up, and when I did I was very much surprised. She was very pretty and very ready to go to a party informal or not. Long tawny locks, understated and well done makeup, a pink sun dress that stopped a couple of inches above the knees exposing legs that were pretty near perfect, and high heels. She towered over my five-six frame, and I loved it.

The barbecue was in full swing when we arrived. The food smelled good too. "Hope they have some of that good smellin' food left over for us," she said. I looked over at her.

"We're not late. I'm sure that there will be plenty left when we decide to eat. Wait...

"You mean you're hungry? I mean now?" I said. She looked embarrassed. Right then I knew. This woman was really really hard up. And, if she were hard up, her kid at home must have been too. Well, that was something that Bruce Turner, newly become entrepreneur, albeit a secret one, could fix muy pronto.

"No, no, I was just kidding," she said. But, I knew she wasn't kidding.

"No problem," I said. I led her to where Gil was talking to a couple by the makeshift bar.

"Hi mister Misguez," I said. "I'd like to introduce you to a friend." He turned and smiled.

Gil took us on a people tour, maybe forty folks in all scattered around the patio and yard. Done, we headed for the tables where some folks were already chowing done. We got plates, served ourselves and did the same. Sam didn't exactly wolf her food down, but she did pile her plate a little higher than most of the other women did.

We'd just finished eaten, when someone put some music on, and I challenged her to dance on the space evidently provided for it, as two other couples were already so engaged there.

"You two do pretty good there," said some guy we had not yet been introduced to as we headed back to our table after a fast paced chacha.

"Thanks," I said. 

"Mind if I borrow your lady for a dance?" he said. I frowned, but looked over at Sam. She was smiling. 

"Sure, I guess, if it's all right with the lady," I said. My tone was not real enthusiastic. 

It turned out that the man's name was Michael Hoerter. He was actually the boyfriend of one of the bargirls at Panza's. He was some kind of salesman, didn't catch what kind. At any rate, his significant other not being present, Michael, the player, Hoerter was on the prowl. He kept my date on the floor for some three dances in a row. I watched from the table where we'd set up base for ourselves. He did bring her back—eventually.

"Whew! That was nice," she said. 

"Nice?" I said. She must have discerned, from my tone, that I was not thrilled.

"Bruce? Are you—we—okay here?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. I just missed you. You were gone kinda long, but it's fine," I said. She nodded, but it was a slow nod.

The rest of the party was good. Hoerter did dance with her twice more over the course of the afternoon, not in a row, and we did our thing too. Anyway, I had no call to be jealous or possessive, or whatever they were calling it these days.But, I didn't like Hoerter: too pushy, too much of an in-your-face kind of guy. No, I decided, I didn't like him.

It was quiet for the fifteen minute drive back to her place to drop her off. A little small talk of the, "Wasn't it a nice party?" variety. But, apart from that, not much. I did get a small kiss from her when I walked her to her door, yes on the lips, but it had no passion in it. Well hell, I hadn't expected any. It'd be Tuesday before we saw each other again at the dance studio. I had a plan.

******

"So, mister Gates, do you think you can handle it then?" I said.

"Sure no problem. I'll be getting back to you in a couple of days, he said. "He" was Norman Gates." Norman Gates was supposedly the best PI in the city. And okay, yes, I was butting into her affairs. And, I was butting into the affairs of her daughter's sperm donor of a father too. After what she'd told me at the donut shop, I'd made up mind to butt in.

******

I arrived a little early for our dance lesson. Mark was all business. And, I was getting better; hell, I thought lot better. But, Mark wanted more. Sam smiled at my attempt to do the grapevine during our Swing run through. I was getting it, well I thought so, but I guess I looked a little clumsy early on. Well, whaddya gonna do.

Lesson over I pulled Sam aside. "Hey, Sam, interested in maybe getting a bite to eat?" I said.

"Uh—Bruce—I..." she started.

"Hey Brucie," came a voice from behind me. I turned to see Michael Hoerter, walk up to us. "Ready, babe?" he said.

"Sorry, Bruce. Maybe another time?" she said. I nodded.




Samantha and Bruce



"Okay," I said. Childish, I know, but I was starting to break up: I could feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I just walked over to where I'd parked my stuff and pretended to tend to them, just hoping that two of them would just leave. I got my hope. Mark noticed.

"Hey guy, don't let it get to you. There's lots of fish in the sea. You'll catch yours. You're a good guy, and your dancing is getting a lot better," he said. 

"Yeah, I guess," I said. But, I got out of there as fast as I could. 

It was illogical as hell. I knew it. But, what was also true was that her turning me down and going out with Hoerter broke my heart. I hadn't realized it, but I had fallen for her—hard. I decided that I'd had my last dance lesson. I wouldn't be going back. I'd email Mark of my intention to stop when I got home. I was sure Mark wouldn't miss me, he'd fill the time spot easy enough. What was also apparently true, Samantha wouldn't miss me either. 

******

Norman Gates sat across from me. Sancho's wasn't busy it was still early, not yet 4:00PM. "You had it pretty well pegged," he said, "at least in broad terms. She's thirty-five, dirt poor, living on food stamps and in government subsidized housing. The kid's, eleven years-old, okay in school but nothing extra. Mom's tried to get a job where she'd be off when the kid got out of school each day, but so far no luck. All in all, she, they're, surviving but barely," he said.

"And the father?" I said. 

"Yes, well he evidently was the sperm donor. The two of them were not married. And, he did up and cut out when she informed him that he was going to be a daddy. And, before you ask, an abortion was not happening; she's a bible beating Catholic. Anyway, the guy's name is Elton Parker age forty. Unemployed at the moment: drinking on the job. Lives a couple of towns over, just east of here. The address, if you want it, is in the envelope. He nodded toward the manila envelope on the table between us.

"I see. I want to thank you for being so quick to get this done. I appreciate it. If I ever need a PI again, you'll be the one I call," I said. We said our goodbyes; he left, and I went back to work. I was a bartender after all.

I had the information I'd asked for, and now I didn't know what I wanted to do with it. Had Sam and I become an item, I had intended to do something, but now...?

******

It was two weeks later that I had a visitor. "Hi Bruce," said Samantha. "Kind of a long time no see."

I was speechless for what seemed forever, but it was likely something more like thirty seconds.

"Well, hi to you too," I said. "You look very nice tonight."

"Thank you. Miss you over at Marge's studio," she said.

"Nice of you to say so. But, I just—well—I just figured I've gotten as much as I hoped to out of it is all. It was time to do something else," I said. I was hoping she wouldn't push it. I hoped in vain.

"Oh, and what else might that be, Bruce?" she said. Okay, I guess I had to lay it out there. I hadn't gotten to where I was—in real life—being a pussy.

"Look, Sam, the truth is that that day..."

"Michael asking me out kinda messed us up. Huh?" she said.

"Well, since you put it out there. Yeah," I said. "I mean I'm not blind or stupid. He's young like you, not bad looking, and knows how to be with—well—the ladies. I, on the other hand, am considerably older than you, not very good looking, and a klutz when it comes to the ladies. What's to choose? It's gotta be him coming in first. Me? A distant second in that particular two horse race." She gave me a smile that screamed disgust.

"Jesus, this is worse than I thought. What are you, Bruce, A sophomore in high school!" she said. "You never gave me to believe that you felt so strongly. Yes, you invited me to a company barbecue. Did that equate with feelings of love eternal! Please tell me. Because if so, I've been doing this all wrong for the—well—my entire life; and, my mother lied to me! So, yeah, please tell me." I felt like an idiot. Everything she said made sense.

"Well I..." I started.

"Look I could be way off base here, Bruce, but I'm going to take my shot. I'm going to gamble. Okay?" she said.

"Okay, I guess," I said.

"You're not a kid. Okay, and yes, you are quite a bit older than me. And too, the fact is you're not real expert in the boy-girl thing." she said.

"Okay, so?" I said.

"And you are looking to get a bit better at stuff like that, right?" she said. "That's why the dancing."

"Okay, and again so?" I said.

"And, you think of me as yours. Your girl, right?" she said.

"Uh-well..."

Right or wrong, just get it out, Bruce," she said.

"Okay, I guess so, kinda. I mean before. Well, I mean you asked," I said. She sagged back against the wall and looked at me. I'm sure I was sporting puppy dog eyes. She nodded slowly her understanding of the situation.

"Okay then. You'll have to get me a ring," she said. "Don't make it too expensive. I mean I'm sure you make good enough bucks as a bartender, but I'm not necessarily into showing off, and I want a honeymoon. Okay?" I stood there and stared.

"Huh?" I said.

"You want me to be your woman, right?" she said.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said, regaining a fully conscious state. 

"Okay then..." she started.

"Samantha, will you marry me?" I said, as I fell to my knees in front of her. She smiled.

"Finally," she said. "Yes, I will marry you, Bruce." Then as if she were talking to herself. "A fucking bartender. Well, you're honest and passionate and employed. And not too bad a dancer." I gave her a look that showed my confusion at her words.

"Come on, get up off your knees, young man. I might be your woman, but you are also my man. So, get up here and kiss me and act like it," she said.

I did as she commanded me and that was that. I was engaged and I didn't even know for sure if I wanted to be. But, I was, and—well—I was feeling good. So, I guess I did want to be.

But, now I had a problem. She is definitely marrying me based on my temporary persona, but how, when, and should I even tell her about the real me. 

We talked some more over the next few days. And the decision was made. I mean we were planning on getting married in three months. Her family in Florida has been alerted, and they—mainly her grandma—wants us to get married down there. They're poor people, but evidently good people. We'd have to be seeing about that. And a prenup? Common sense said yes. But is that any way to start a life with one's life's partner? Talk about a mess. All because of my money.

Being engaged brought about three results: one, our dancing lessons resumed and we—read me—did improve; two, Samantha became more or less of a fixture at Sancho's; and three, I was introduced to Lindsey who seemed more interested than pleased that I had been added to the mix.

I had dates with several different people over the few days following my engagement to Samantha, and no not women, well except one. Number one was Gil: he laughed so hard he almost cried. 

"So, you lasted what three months before some gal put a collar on you," he said. "Well, she is a pretty thing, a little on the skinny side, but good looking."

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "Gil, I want to do this, right?" I said.

"Probably not a good idea so soon, but looking at it, I'm of the opinion that you could've done worse," he said. I nodded. 

"Well, I've got a few months to undo the plans if I decide not to go through with it," I said. "I mean if I can be that big of an asshole." He nodded.

My second meet up with was with Lana. No, not for sex, but for advice.

"You're kidding right?" she said. "At your age you're looking for a housemate? Forget it stud. Take it from a pro who knows all facets of the game, for you it's a mistake. Some guys need a full time woman, but you are most definitely not one of them. You've gotten along for more than half of your life without it. Get real. If you want to marry somebody, marry me."

"You? You want to marry me?" I said. 

"Sure. I don't know what you do for a living, but I know you make enough to support me. And, I'm actually fond of you. You're considerate and sweet, and more, you're not boring. So sure. Give me a call when you've got me the ring," she said. And, then she laughed long and hard.

My third meeting was with Lou Goetz, my all-purpose lawyer: aged, experienced, connected, and ruthless; my kind of guy. "You let me worry about the prenup, and yes you definitely are going to have one. I insist on it," he said. "And, don't worry, about her thinking you're being indelicate. I know how to do these things; it's all a matter of timing. I'll give you a heads up when I want you to bring her in." I nodded. At least Lou didn't laugh; he only smiled kinda big.

The fourth in line for a meeting was Norman Gates, my very favorite PI. "Yes, I need to know who she's talking to and what she says about me. I have no illusions, Norm. She's marrying me for security, and I'm marrying her because she's attractive and interesting. Do I love her? I don't know. And by that I mean that I don't really know what love is. If that makes any sense," I said. He nodded.

"Consider it done," he said. I looked him askance.

"What no laughter?" I said, and I was being half serious.

"Huh?" he said.

"Everybody else is laughing at me for proposing to the woman; well, except my lawyer; he only smiled. But he's a hundred years old and my story probably bores him," I said. Norm finally smiled and settled back in his at least $1,000 desk chair.

"No, I'm not laughing. Do I think you may be rushing things? Yeah a little. But, I've checked her out remember, and she came up squeaky clean, hard up, but squeaky clean. You could have chosen much worse," he said.

"Thanks," I said. "I kinda needed to hear that little bit of encouragement if that's what it was." He nodded.

"It was," he said.

******

"So you're going to marry the guy?" said Michael Hoerter.

"Yes, You won't marry me, and he's a good guy. So yes," said Samantha Rubens.

"What about us? We still gonna be able to get together from time to time?' he said.

"She went to her knees in front of him. She undid his belt and pulled down his zipper. "Does this answer your question?" she said, as she pulled down his pants.

He leaned back against the credenza as she pulled his underpants down exposing his penis, his nine inch penis to her view. 

"I never get tired of seeing this," she said. Taking hold of it, she let it slip between her lips. She began sucking on it slowly, teasingly.

******

I didn't exactly have a date with her, but since the engagement, she'd always come in on Friday nights, And when I'd gotten off work, usually around eight, we'd usually gone either to her place or mine to play. But tonight she didn't show. But, he did.

"You said you wanted to be kept up to date on what was going on with her," said Norman. I nodded, and my look must have cued him.

"Sorry man, but she just went into a motel room with that interloper, Hoerter," said Norman.

"Fuck!" I said. "Well, I guess it's better to find out that shit now than after the fact."

"Yeah, I guess," he said.

"Too late to get evidence?" I said. 

"My boots on the ground are taking care of that as we speak," he said.

"Thanks, Norm. I owe you. You saved me from making a huge mistake. I guess when it comes to the boy-girl stuff I really am an amateur," I said. He laughed.

"Guy, all us guys are amateurs when it comes to the ladies," he said. I just nodded, slowly.

Normally, I would have gone to her place before midday Saturday. We always did stuff together on the weekends. Today was Saturday; I didn't go and I didn't call.

I did get a couple of voicemails from her that I didn't respond to. I think she must've gotten the message because she showed up at the bar on Monday afternoon just as I came on.

"Bruce? What's going on," she said. Well, if nothing else, my so called fiancé was not one to beat around the bush.

"You tell me?" I said, putting the ball in her court.

"Huh? Whaddya mean?" she said.

"You didn't show up Friday night. I took that to mean you were breaking up with me," I said.

"What? What are you talking about? Did we have a date I wasn't aware of?" she said.

"I thought we did, but I guess I was wrong. I mean about me having a date. But of course you had one. Right?" I said.

"Huh?"

"With Hoerter, at the Palms motel. Right?" I said. She paled, but recouped quickly.

"Oh my. You think—you think that I am leaving you for someone else. That's it right?" she said. "Well, I'm not. You're my guy, not Hoerter, not anyone else. Now, does that clear things up between us?" my state of incredulity had to have been obvious. She took on an exasperated expression.

"Come on, Bruce, you didn't think that that man could have any hope of taking your place did you?" she said.

"Looks to me like he has, at least between your legs," I said.

She sighed. "You men. Yes, I let him screw me. Have since that day at the barbecue. But it's nothing but meaningless sex, fun, but utterly without commitment. You need to get your head around that my man," she said.

"Huh? My head around—what?" I said.

"Look, Brucie, you and I are great together. But, well, I'm still young. I need a bit more on the sexual side of things than a man your age can give me. Add to that that I never deny you when—you know—you want something. You always have first dibs," she said.

"What the hell? First dibs? Aren't married people—and engaged people—supposed to be exclusive when it comes to sex?" I said. "I swear I've read that somewhere." Now, I was being sarcastic. That exasperated look again.

"Bruce, get this, there-is-no-threat-to-you in anything I am doing on the side. No threat, Bruce. Get that. Oh, and I know you get off at eight. I want to go to the Hyatt for a late dinner. Okay?" 

"The Hyatt?"

"Yes, it's our six month anniversary," she said, and smiled. I stood there stunned, as she turned and walked off.

She was going to be unpleasantly surprised. I'd be going out for a late dinner right enough, but not at the Hyatt and not with her. I gave Lana a call.

******

"So, you get me my ring yet?" said Lana. 

"You have to prove to me that you're not just after my money," I said, laughing.

"Well, fuck you," she said, also laughing. "I'm bettin' I've got a lot more money than you."

"Well, then if that's true, maybe I'll marry you for your money," I said.

The food came and we had a ball telling each other lies and laughing and kissing the night away. And then there was the after dinner sex. Oh my, and that was something.

She swayed in front of me. I was more than glad that my apartment's front room was spacious: she needed it for the dance she was performing. I was so horny when she was done that I grabbed her and all but threw her down on the floor. I ripped her panties off and pushed a finger inside of her. She mooed.

I lay half on top of her kissing her as I fingered her pussy. "You gonna get serious little man," she said.

"Woman, you just condemned yourself to one cruel as hell screwing," I said.

"Writing checks your dick can't cash," she laughed. That got me. I aimed, struck home, and drilled her with everything I had: hard, fast, and well maybe not so deep. But, no one could fault my enthusiasm. And, I did last. Her face took on a shocked expression as an orgasmic typhoon swept her away.

"How about that," I said, more than satisfied with my performance.

"Indeed," she said. "And your fiancé finds fault with that! Excuse me. You maybe lack something, Darling, but fuckmanship ain't it," said Lana. "Still, I will say that that was maybe your best performance ever, at least with me," said Lana.

"Thanks," I said. "My ego needed that even if I didn't." She smirked.

Afterwards we nibbled on cheese crackers, sipped port wine, and went to bed satisfied and—something—happy maybe.

******

I expected it of course. She was at Sancho's before I even came on. "Can we talk?" she said.

"I don't see why. If you think I'm going to put up with your nonsense you have another think coming," I said. She shook her head slowly from side to side.

"Brucie, Brucie, Brucie. What do I have to do to convince you that sex with Hoerter is no threat to you whatsoever? He's nothing compared to you," she said. I had to smile inwardly at just how totally right she absolutely was.

"He gets your pussy that's more than a threat to me, that's a declaration of war, as far as I'm concerned, Sam. You want him? You got him. You just can't have me too," I said.

"Bruce, how about if I give him up. Would that solve our little problem?" she said.

"Why?" I said.

"Why what?' she said.

"Why would you give him up if he's so much better in bed than me? I mean you said it yourself; I'm too old to service you properly," I said.

"Yes, and to be honest that's the reason I let him have me. You're okay, Bruce. But, Hoerter can go three and four times a night. I get maybe twice from you on a good night. But, all of the being true, and it is, it is not worth losing the love of my life over. Okay!" she said.

She'd just said the one thing—maybe—that might convince me to take a chance. "Love of your life?" I said.

"Yes. I know what I've got in you. A guileless, hardworking, and gentle soul who will take care of me and treat me well," she said. 

Guileless? Well two out of three ain't bad, I thought. "How do I know I can trust you?" I said.

"How about this: I give up Hoerter and sign a prenup that if I ever cheat, you divorce me, and I walk with only the stuff I bring into the marriage?" she said. "How about that?" I nodded. 

"Okay. I guess I have to take a chance. Just one chance, Sam. And Sam, I'll know if you do cheat. Count on it," I said. She smiled, but there was something in the smile that bespoke arrogance: I'd seen it before from traders, and usually the ones that ate the weenie big time. But, I let it slide.

******

"Okay, I'll bite, said Samantha. "Why are we here at the lawyer's?" she was looking right at Lou when she said it, but I answered her.

"To put together that prenup you mentioned the other day," I said.

"You're really going to ask me to sign one of those then?" she said. "I mean I thought that after last night that maybe..."

"It was your idea Sam, and it does remove a ton of doubt about the wisdom of trusting you. Especially after all of the things you said about my sexual inadequacies," I said. "Are you saying now that you didn't mean the stuff you said the other night?"

"Well I—okay—never mind. Let's do it," she said.

"Yes indeed," said Lou." Sam, It's the one big thing that Bruce couldn't recover from, I mean a cheating wife. He'd likely be over the hill by the time it happened to him. As his friend I don't want to see him ruined financially as well as destroyed emotionally," said Lou. 

"I see," said Samantha. 

"Probably not," said Lou. "There are some things you don't know. Lou isn't just a bartender at Sancho's; well, he is, but not only that. He's also part owner of the place, and he has outside money. That's how he was able to buy into the bar. Are you with me so far, Sam?" She was nodding.

"I think so. So, the prenup, if I go for it, what will it do." She said.

"It's pretty simple actually. Bruce wanted it that way. If you stay married for life, it does nothing; it becomes void. If you cheat, whether you divorce or not; you end up with nothing but what you brought into the marriage. If he cheats whether you divorce or not, you get his interest in the bar, and half of everything you accumulate during the marriage.

"Any children, including your daughter, Sam, are also provided for as you will see in the documents: education health, the usual. Bruce is asking you to take the papers to a lawyer of your choice and have he or she looked at it. Additionally, there are other stipulations in the docs you'll want to consider. Again, mostly standard stuff dealing with abuse of various kinds and the like. Like I said, you need to have your lawyer look over the papers and get back to me. 




Samantha and Bruce



"Sound okay?" he said.

"I guess. I didn't know Lou had other money. I really didn't. I mean I knew he was employed. But, frankly, such is certainly not a deal breaker for me. And, Bruce, I will not be cheating. I'm afraid you're going to be stuck with me," she said.

"Good," I said. I had managed to keep my mouth shut, on Lou's orders. Of course with what Lou'd already revealed, I knew that she and I would be talking, probably talking long.

******

"Well, it looks like I'm marrying me a Tycoon," she said somewhat facetiously.

"Damn straight," I said. She laughed. "She thought I was kidding. I was not about to disabuse her of her beliefs.

"And, I was worried that I might be making a mistake marrying a bartender. Goes to show one, doesn't it," she said. It was not a question. "Can I ask, just how rich are you?"

"it's relative, but very," I said. I would not give her an accurate figure; I knew she couldn't handle numbers like that. But, I had to at least imply it in order to cover myself in the vent of—well—a bad eventuality.

******

"So how did it pan out, your investigation?" I said.

"Okay. She has quite a few friends, many of whom you are slated to meet before your big event. The friends are both good and bad," said Norm.

"Bad?" I said.

"Well, party animals. The kind that often end up causing divorces and cheating and all the usual. No drugs though, so that's a positive."

"How about Sam? Is she a party animal?" I said.

"Not in recent times, but evidently there had been a day. It was when she was a lot younger, mid-twenties." He said. I was feeling good. The data was supporting my hopes.

And then we were married. And I did bond with my stepdaughter. And the sex was excellent; well, it was for me. I hoped it was for her. I tried my best. And for two years, my best was good enough; and, then I guess it wasn't. Why would I think that? Because I heard her talking smack about me.

******

"He's short, too damn old, damn near dickless, and very demanding when it comes to using my twat," said my wife of going on three years.

"Then why did you marry the loser," said the friend seated to her left at our dinette table. 

There were five of them in all. I knew the visitors pretty well: they were often over for coffee or drinks or dinner or all three. Lori and Stacy were accountants. Deidre was a dance teacher form the studio. And, Rhoda was a care giver to an aged rich guy. The one asking the question was Rhoda. The lot of them were single except for my wife. And, all were in their mid to late thirties except Deidre who was in her early forties.

They hadn't heard me come in. I was standing in the kitchen. My heart had just been broken into very small pieces. But, I was in control of my emotions, barely, but I was in control. I decided to just stay where I was and continue to listen. 

"Why did I marry him? Because he was willing and able to take care of me and Lindsey; I needed him or someone like him. I was hard up, getting older fast, with damn few prospects," said Samantha.

"You're a good looking woman. You could have had your pick," said Rhoda.

"Get this. Yes, a lot of guys hit on me. They wanted in my pants right enough. But none of them wanted my baggage. Bruce didn't bat an eyelash. He accepted me and my baggage with me. All I had to do was make his day in bed. And, I do," said Sam.

"Doesn't he ever get suspicious about Carlson or Richard or that other guy?" said Stacy. 

"Hell no. I am very careful. If he knew I'd be ruined: the prenup. No, so long as I take care of business at home, I can play and not have any worries about him finding out.

"I just consider it a job. A body doesn't always like the work they have to do, but they still have to do it regardless," she said. 

"Sloppy seconds for him?" said Deidre.

"Occasionally, but not all that often really," said Sam. The all laughed. I made a decision.

I would join them. I headed into the dinette and took a seat at the table with them. The sudden silence was palpable.

"What, not even a hello, Sam? I mean if you're going to take care of business, I mean if I'm just a job, shouldn't it at least start with a little politeness?" I said.

"Bruce I..." she started. I smiled. 

"It's okay," I said.

"Bruce, please. It's not what you think," she said. Now I laughed.

"Short, old, dickless, demanding? Carlson—and the other guys?" I said. "Did I miss anything?"

The others began recovering from their respective comas and made to be leaving. I didn't want that.

"No, no ladies, please keep your seats. Well, I mean if you care about what happens to Samantha and my marriage. I might be willing my to forget my hurt if you all would retake your seats and hear me out," I said. 

"Bruce? What's going on? What are you going to do?" said Sam.

"You pretty much destroyed my heart just now, Sam. Whaddya think I should do?" I said.

"We need to talk, and we need to do it in private?" she said. "We can get by this." I thought I heard a snicker.

"Bruce, Sam is right. This is between the two of you," said Norma. "You need to talk it out."

"Exactly," I said. "But, I still need an answer to my question, Sam?"

"What question?" she said.

"How do you think I should feel, react?" I said.

"Like I said by talking it out," she pleaded.

"Yes, I agree we need to talk. But, since you seem to have included your friends here in your thinking; I'd like a chance to include them in my thinking. Fair enough ladies?" I said. I looked around the table. I held each of them individually with my gaze for a few seconds. They looked at each other and settled back into their seats.

"Thank you," I said.

Sam looked stricken. "How about you ladies. All of you think I'm as nothing as Sam does?"

"Bruce, what Sam said, what we all think, is just girl nonsense. All of us complain about our men. It's the battle of the sexes thing," said Rhoda. "For the record I know you guys talk the same smack that we do, worse even."

"Hmm, you have a point, Rhoda. But not every man cheats on his wife. And not many men would put up with being cuckolded. But me? Well, I'm a pussy when it comes to my wife, so I want to salvage things if I can," I said.

"Bruce?" said Sam. Her voice was filled with hope. I held up my hand to short shank her.

"Ladies, Sam, I am willing to forgive and forget. I mean it. But, there's a condition, a price."

"A condition?" said Sam.

"I want to fuck all of your friends here. If they agree, I'll just consider it water under the bridge and we get on with the business of living," I said. All of a sudden I had a verbal riot on my hands.

"How dare you!" screamed Norma. "I have never cheated on my husband. I'm not going to start now."

"Really? Never cheated on Cal? What if I told you I knew about Marcus Williams," I said. The look on her face was heartwarming. "And the rest of you? Got any skeletons? Want me to go looking?"

"Bruce, we like you. We really do, all of us," said Stacy. "We were just talking smack. Stupid stuff. Meaningless stuff. Okay?"

"Absolutely. So, shall we all get naked?" I said. Renewed verbal riot. Rhoda and Norma stormed out, though Norma looked back at me as she exited. I think she was trying to gauge whether or not I really knew anything and if so how much about her and Marcus Williams.

Deidre was next to leave. "I'm sorry we hurt you, Bruce. Please forgive me," she said, and then she was gone.

"And you Stacy? You gonna run off too?" I said. She rose and looked at me for a long minute.

"Call me if you really do want a piece of my ass," she said, and then she was gone.

And, then we were alone. I sat there half smiling at my maybe soon to be ex-wife.

"Bruce?"

"Just a job you have to do? That's it, Sam?" She looked down and then up.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. You were never meant to hear any of that shit, and that's all it was," she said. I nodded my understanding.

"Really?" I said. "I mean it isn't really the way you feel?"

"Hell no it's not," she said. "I actually love you."

"Hmm. I wonder," I said.

"No need to wonder it's the truth," she said. 

"And Carlson and Richard?" I said.

"Mistakes. Big ones," she said. "They're history, the men. 

"Honey, I know I'm going to have to work my ass off to prove to you that I love you. I'm a stinker; I admit it. Just give me a chance to make it up to you. Okay? " 

"Your men, you mean that they've been history for a long while or just as of now," I said. She looked away.

"As of now," she said. I nodded.

"And, I'm supposed to believe you," I said.

"Hopefully," she said.

"Hmm, okay. This once. But..."

"I know, if it happens again, you'll destroy me. Right?" she said. I didn't say anything.

The thank you sex was amazing. She lay with her legs drawn back and grunting every time I drove myself into her. I felt her shiver just as I unloaded myself inside of her. I wondered what that meant because it sure as hell was better than any we'd had lately!

We slept in late the next day. It was Saturday and Sam had a hair dresser's appointment. Lindsey and I were slated to go to the zoo.

Things once again fell into a routine and I began to relax.

******

"He let it go! He let all of those put downs go!" said Stacy Armitage. 

"Believe me, I can't believe it either," said Samantha.

"No revenge, no threats, no demands? Really?" said Stacy.

"No, nothing," said Samantha. "Well, except for one helluva a night of sex. I owed him that, and I gave it to him."

"Girl, if you do end up breaking up with him, I'm gonna be taking your place," said Stacy.

"No chance, Stacy. I know what I've got in that man, and I'm not letting him go," she said.

"Carlson's been asking about you," said Stacy.

"Well, there's no way. Not for a while at any rate. I can't risk it. Tell him to chase after some other chickee. I'm busy saving my marriage," said Sam. Stacy gave her a look.

"Okay," said her friend.

******

Sam and I did walk softly around each other for a few days, but I was Determined to have my cake and eat it too one way or another. To achieve that particular goal, I figured, would require a very delicate hand.

One, I had decided to keep her. The reality was that I was pretty much everything she'd called me. I was short, I did have but a five inch dick, and I was almost fifty-three years-old. However, I did feel very strongly that I would be more than justified in taking issue with the demanding part. I was "not" all that demanding. Yes, I liked to have sex with her, but demanding? Whenever she'd said no, I'd backed off. I might have taken issue with the old part too, but I suppose that would have to remain a matter of perception. And then there was number two.

I had saved her skinny ass, and for that matter that of her daughter. Frankly, I deserved to be respected, and yes damn it, loved too. 

The delicate part in my knightly quest, was the fact that I was going to do nothing in terms of exacting revenge of any kind. Nor, was I going to go whining and crying or pissing my pants because the woman I loved didn't, apparently, appreciate me. I was going to subscribe to that old dictum: that "No one can resist generosity forever." I planned to kill her with kindness and love and above all respect.

The sex after that first night of makeup sex was not real extraordinary. Partly, I knew, because I was still feeling basically low. I did not want her to screw me because I wanted it. I wanted her to screw me because we both wanted it. Trouble was, how did I know if and when that she wanted it. Talk about catch-22s. But tonight was six months since the hit to my ego and things had gotten back to something approximating normal.

I watched as she undressed. She had always slept in pajamas, that ever since our wedding night. She'd be naked only on nights when we did the dirty. She slipped into bed sans the night gown.

"Make love to me, Brucie. Please. I need it. I really do," she said.

"My pleasure dear wife," I said. 

"Lie on your belly," I said. She did and I switched positions so that I could play with her butt. I felt the heat of her anus as I impaled her on one of my fingers. I kissed and licked her crack while my finger massaged her insides. She moaned. I pulled my finger out and licked and sucked at the hole itself. She was pushing herself back at my face.

"That's a good bit," she said. "Keep doing that. I really like it." I flipped her over and ministered to her clit. Backing up, I poked at her slit and my cock slid in easily.

"Screw me big guy, screw me like you mean it," she said. I wasn't too enamored of her 'big guy' comment, but I did begin drilling her for all I was worth.

It took me some minutes to unload inside of her, but I finally did. And, as I did, she began bucking wildly. I think she was trying to get off.

I collapsed on top of her and took a deep breath. "You make it?" I gasped. I knew she hadn't.

"Sure. You bet," she said. "It was a big one too." She was lying, but she was doing it to make me feel better. I'm not sure how I felt about that.

We slept the sleep of the hopeful; I sure did at any rate.

******

Over the next few months the sex remained pretty good. I was never able to make her cum, which by the way was not for a lack of trying. I worked my ass off trying to get her there, but I just couldn't seem to do it. Still she seemed to enjoy herself that was something. At any rate, things between us were working themselves out; well, that's what I thought. It turned out I was kinda wrong about that.

******

I had her dead to rights. I could unload her on her no problem. Lou still had the cannon loaded from before. And no, this ting now was not because of the problem we'd faced some eight months gone. No indeed. It was my gut reaction to what I'd discovered but three-point-five minutes ago. And the damnable worst thing about it wasn't the cheating. Oh no. It was the cheating with Hoerter! And, the jokes he was making at my expense and her laughing right along with him. Those killed my heart--again. And yet, for some damn reason, and I couldn't explain it, the whole sordid scene amused me. Oh, I was mad, incensed really. But, the whole scene was so funny. These two were really really dumbos; all they lacked were ears big enough for them to flap and fly with.

"Bruce! Please Bruce, wait!" she screamed. Languidly leaning against the door jamb, I watched as she desperately dressed. As for his assholeship; he'd fallen on his ass twice trying to pull his pants on. I would have laughed, but it didn't seem the polite thing to do.

Hoerter finally got himself enough together to get his ass out of our house. Samantha and I were alone. I was still leaning against the door jamb. She was now dressed and standing in the middle of the room, hands at her sides watching me. God how vulnerable she looked.

"And?" I said. She swallowed, no doubt trying to get her words arranged in her head. This was going to be a toughie for her for sure. Oh yeah, a serious toughie.

"You weren't supposed to see that. You weren't supposed to be here," she said. I nodded.

"Yeah, how inconsiderate of me. I'll call next time. You know, give you a heads up so you'll have a chance to clean up and get that shithead out of the house. How would that be," I said.

"Bruce? Are you going to kick me out?" she said.

"You know, I'm not sure. I should just unload your skanky ass and get on with things. But, I'm not sure. Let me ask you, do you want to stay with me? I mean and not with him anymore?" I said.

"Yes, I want to stay with you. Are you—are you—are you going to let me?" she said. I nodded. 

"Does shithead have a cell phone?" I said.

"Yes." she said. 

"Okay, ring it and tell him to never call you, see you, be anywhere around you ever again. And, make him think you're alone, that I've gone out to get drunk or something. I want him to try and convince you to just be sneakier. Oh, and put that fancy android of yours on speaker because I want to hear what he's saying. Am I clear?" I said.

"Yes sir," she said. She picked up her 'droid and hit a preset number—how fucking convenient.

"Hello?" I heard him say.

"Hi. Michael, I've got make this short and sweet," she started

"He there?" he said, interrupting her.

"No, I'm alone. He's mad. I think he went out to get a drink, maybe a lot of drinks. Michael, you and I have to end it. As of now it's over. We played and now I'm going to have to pay. He's really mad," she said.

"Can't we just be more careful? I admit doing it in your house like that was a risk. Stupid-stupid-stupid me asking you to do it there," he said.

"Michael, no we can't just be more careful. We're done. Find some other woman to chase. I'm gonna be spending many years just trying to get him to trust me again. So please, don't call me, try to see me, nothing. Okay?" she said.

"Okay," he said. "But, I'll be around when little dick lightens up. You know how to get hold of me," he said.

"Michael, it's over..."

"You know, you should have tried going for our plan B," he said.

"Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. Michael, I have to go. We're done. Please respect my wishes here. Goodbye." She hung up.

"Plan B," I said. She looked down.

"Sam? Plan B?" I repeated.

"It was nothing, just one of his cockamamie ideas. I told him to forget it when he first brought it up, and each and every time he's brought it up since," she said.

"Each and every time..." I said, letting my meaning hang in the air. Once again she looked away. 

"You've been with shithead how many times before?" I said. This was getting good.

"Bruce it's over between him and me. Really, there will be no more sex or meetings of any kind with him ever again," she said.

"Hmm, and plan B?" I was pushing it.

"Bruce, please, stop it. It was nothing. I never even considered it. Just stop it, okay?" Now she was getting mad, which, under the circumstances, seemed odd as hell.

I remained calm and spoke softly. "Last chance, Plan B?" I said. She was wringing her hands. She began to pace.

"He, well, he thought—imagined—that you might want to join in with us. You know a threesome thing. Like I said, a stupid idea from the gitgo and never even considered by me. Never!" she said. I nodded.

"Why would he have wanted such a thing?" I said.

"Hell, I don't know. I guess he thought that we, he and I, could do it more often maybe. I mean if you were in the mix. But I don't really know. The conversation never got that far. I never let it get that far," she said.

"Interesting," I said.

"Bruce, are we okay. You gonna give this cunt another chance?" she said.

"Momma?" came a voice from the kitchen. Lindsey was home. Bruce would you go see to Lindsey. I need to get dressed. Please?" she said. I smiled, nodded, and headed off to entertain her kid for the next short while.

******

When one is fifty-three years old and looking for a mate, a soulmate if you will, it's hard to walk away from such a one once she'd—in my case—been identified. Samantha was my soulmate; I was sure of it. She was also a slut, and she had become one, if I had it right, some time back. She'd become one and she liked being one, and that dear reader is what I was confronted with. Could she give up this Hoerter guy—really? I had to hope so. 

******

"My mom likes you too, you know," said the little girl. 

"Too?" I said.

"You and that tall guy. Michael," said Lindsey. All of a sudden I had a bad feeling. I decided to take a flyer.

"Oh yeah, I know about him. But, at least he doesn't come around here, I guess," I said.

"No, not often. Maybe once a week or so. You're here all of the time, so you have dibs," said Lindsey.

"Dibs?" I said. "What dibs?"

"On my mom, silly," said Lindsey. "He's an okay guy. Mom says he makes her feel good. But, she doesn't trust him. She only trusts you."




Samantha and Bruce



"Feel good?" I was talking, no holding a serious conversation, with an eleven year old kid that seemed to be more worldly-wise than me! Helluva a not.

"Really? Once a week is all," I said. 

"Yes. Only on Tuesday because that's the day you go to work in the morning. Mom knows you wouldn't like him being around when you're here," she said.

"No, I wouldn't," I said. Tomorrow was Tuesday. I would be taking some time off from work to see if I could nail the bastard banging my wife.

"But, she likes you best," said Lindsey. I knew she thought that she was reassuring me. Maybe had a feeling that what her mom was doing was not good.

"And, how may I ask do you know all of this?" I said.

"I came home sick once and I met him. Mom told me stuff after he left," she said. "Mom and I always tell each other stuff."

I had to think that this was stuff that momma would rather have not had her daughter in the know about. But, once the cat was out of the bag; well, anyway, now the kid did know. And, now I knew. Fucking wonderful!

******

I'd left on time, 7:00AM, as usual. I knew from what Lindsey implied that the asshole would show up around 9:00AM, probably have coffee with my soon to be ex and then they'd head for the bedroom and desecrate my marriage bed. I'd probably get a call around the time he got there. She'd been calling me at work On Tuesday mornings for some time: the only day of the week I went in early. I had to figure it was to assure herself that I was at work and not going to be interrupting their little tryst. Hence, I was at work, as usual; I'd be taking the call if she made one. Then, I would be taking a sick day.

"Bruce, the phone. It's wifey, said Janie, my morning back up. Janie, Juan the cook, and Lisa and Helen were there for the breakfast crowd. The bar wouldn't open until 4:00PM, but Sancho's was open 6:00AM to 2:00AM seven days a week; but, only food and nonalcoholic drinks until 4:00PM.

"Hi, honey," said Sam, "just calling to say hello." 

"Backatcha," I said. "Got a full day?"

"No, not really. Just stuff around her to take care of," she said.

"Well, I do," I said. "Got a ton to do today. It's gonna be crazy I just know it."

"Huh? Well, take care of yourself, and don't work too hard," she said. "I'm  planning on giving you a workout when you get home, young man," she said. 

"Okay, you be good. See yuh later. Bye," I hung up.

I wondered if her plans for me included sloppy seconds. Probably not. She'd shower before I got home. No use being too in my face about what she was doing to me. I smiled. I wasn't happy, but I was ready. 

I parked behind his car on the street and headed inside. They were in the spare bedroom. Jesus were they being loud. I sat outside the room and listened. The little, but very expensive, recording device in my pocket was getting it all.

"Yesyesyesyesyes!" she hissed. "Ooohhhmyymymy."

"Hubby do that for you?" he said.

"Don't talk about him," she said. "He's not here. You are. So just shut up and do me. Okay?"

I could sense him smiling. "Just curious. No harm no foul. Okay" he said.

"No he doesn't do it for me. He tries, and sometimes he comes close, but he just doesn't have it where sex is concerned. So now shut up about him." He laughed.

"Hey you're the one who told me his dick was really a dicklet. Come on. He gets you every day of the week. I have to be satisfied with once a week. Let me at least have a little fun at his expense. Okay?" he said.

"No. He's off limits. Got it!" she said.

I was seething. I hid the recorder behind the hall portrait and headed for the bar in the den. It was only 10:30AM but I needed a drink and a shoulder to cry on.

I had a lot to think about. I'd be divorcing Samantha; that was a given. I was thinking of putting a serious hurt on Hoerter economically; I just had to figure out how to go about it. And, there was Lindsey. The kid was innocent. I'd probably cover her financially unless Sam cut me off from seeing her. I'd become attached to her. Also, I'd be giving Lou a heads up within the hour. 

When I'd departed, I'd decided to leave without interrupting the two lovers with my presence, but I wasn't going to leave quietly. I downed my drink and closed the cupboard kind of loudly. Then, I gathered up my coat and left not being careful about making noise; I didn't exactly slam the door ,but I was sure they'd hear it. Like I say, I wanted them to know I was there, or suspect it, worry about it. It was going to be fun; well, it was for me.

******

"What was that!" said Samantha.

"I don't know. It sounded like a door or something," said Michael Hoerter.

"And that!" said Sam. She was out of bed in a flash, but sneaking down the hall very slowly and quietly.

Going into the kitchen, she saw the empty wine glass. "Sweet Jesus," she said.

"What," he said, coming in right behind her.

"I think he was here. I think he heard us. I'm fucked. So, likely are you." She said.

"Oh shit," he said.

She headed for the phone. "If he's not there, then he was here," she said.

"Yes, hi Janie. Is the big guy there?...Oh really...home...Okay thanks," she hung up.

******

I was back at Sancho's within fifteen minutes. "Sam, your wife has called. I thought you were taking a sick day," she said. "I told her you were on your way home."

"I did too, but I'm feeling better," I said.

I got her next call ten minutes after I'd put my apron back on. I picked up. 

"Hello?" I said. 

"Sam, your cell's off, and I haven't been able to get hold of you. Janie, said you took a sick day. That you were on your way home?"

"I was, and I did. But when I gto there, I found it was a little crowded so I decided to come back to work and be sick here," I said. Silence on the other end of the line.

"Bruce?"

"Yes?" I said.

"It's not what you think. Really?" she said.

"Good, but I have to get back to work, also really," I said. I hung up.

******

I was a man with upwards of one hundred million in liquid assets. I was man who owned half interest in a flourishing bar and grill. I was a man who was a competent if not professional bartender. And, I was a man who was all but terrified of going home to face a woman who had lied to me and made me her cuckold.

Terrified of what? No, not facing her, really. Not pinning her about what she'd done. I was terrified that she'd be able to convince me to forgive and forget—again! This was one time when I had to be strong. I'd listen to her, but in the end she had to be history. Didn't she?

******

I pulled into the driveway and looked up toward the front door of the house. I knew that it would likely be the last time I looked at it as our house, mine and Samantha's. What could she say? What could she promise me? Would she even bother to promise me. Yes, I could dazzle her with my money—even my power, and I had it—but what would that accomplish. Nothing. 

I sighed, got out of the car, and walked to the door. It opened before I had even reached for the doorknob.

"Bruce. Please," she said. She walked back into the room and took a seat on the couch. Stunned, I followed her in, shutting the door gently behind me.

"What's he doing here," I said, looking straight into the eyes of her lover. If she'd wanted to piss me off, she'd succeeded historically. 

"He's here to help me plead my case. If you're willing to listen—well—maybe we have a chance, you and I," she said.

"You're nothing if not unpredictable, Sam, I'll give you that, and, optimistic," I said. 

"Yes, he screwed me today. It's been happening..."

"More or less weekly, right?" I said interrupting her.

"Wha...?" she said.

"You know, on Tuesdays while I'm at work making a living for us. He's screwing you. Right?" I said. She looked down.

"Bruce, you make a good living for us. You treat me and Lindsey like we're princesses. There's almost no downside to being married to you. In fact, I'd say there is no downside to being married to you," she said.

"Then why him," I said, motioning toward her so far silent partner in crime. "Whaddya need him for?"

"His nine inches and staying power and recovery power: sex, that's it, that's all," she said.

"Sex? You're saying that I haven't got what it takes. That about it?" I said.

"Yes. You're older. It's natural. You're good for maybe one time before you're too tired to go again. Do you realize that we've not done it twice on the same date forever? I need a little more. Not a lot, but a little. I've discovered that if I can have Michael once a week, it's enough for me. That's why the Tuesday thing. Never at night, never in our bed, yours and mine, and only once a week," she said.

"So that's the pitch? I said. "I accept your once a week liaisons and we just get on with life. Am I right?' I said.

"Yes," she said.

"And what are you bringing to the table, Hoerter? You just here to hold her spear, or have you got something to say," I said.

"Yes, I do," he said. "Samantha has pretty much laid out the schema as it is at the moment, and it would be good if you were amenable. But I have an offer to make to you, actually a couple of them. She told me that you wouldn't be interested, and maybe you wouldn't be, but I begged her to let me try. I'd only ask that you let me lay it out for you before you get all hot and bothered. Okay?" he said. I nodded.

I was actually more than curious as to what the asshole was wanting to sell me. "Sure, lay it out for me mister big dick," I said.

"Bruce!" said Samantha, butting in.

"Okay, okay," I said. "Go ahead."

"Even if you agree to what Sam has proposed, I can foresee that you'd be out there hating her and me and everything about the deal real fast. But, maybe not so if you were part of the action. What I'm saying is that I'd be more than willing to have you join us whenever we got it on," he said. "You'd screw her, I'd screw her, we'd do everything sexual and kinky we could agree on and, well, just have a good time," he said.

"That it?" I said. He nodded.

"Mister Hoerter, I think you need t leave now and let me and my wife talk things over," I said.

"Okay. Anyway, I made my pitch. Thanks for listening," he said. And, then he was gone.

"So my husband, where does that leave us," said Samantha.

"If I say dump his squirrely ass, would you?" I said. 

"In that event, I'd ask you for a divorce, and I would marry him. He's single," she said.

"So all of those things I'm so good at, so wonderful at, can't measure up to his nine inches of flesh. That what you're saying, Sam?

"And what about Lindsey?" I said.

"Michael will take care of us," she said. I nodded. 

"Okay, if that's the way it is. He wins. I'll get me a room somewhere tonight, and tomorrow I'll come back and get the few things I care about. Have a nice life," I said.

"Bruce—it doesn't have to be this way. Really. Ideally he's just on the side and you're master of the house. I just need, can't do without..."

"Can't do it, Sam. He wins, and you lose. You've chosen badly," I said.

It took me fifteen minutes to get enough stuff together to last me a night or two, and then I was gone.

******

The divorce was final in five months: irreconcilable differences. She got the house because I didn't want it. I could have sent her off with just the clothes on her back. But, there was the kid, who I was fond of.

I did get one visit from Samantha about a month before the divorce was final.

"How yuh been, Bruce?" she said taking a seat at the bar.

"Okay, I guess, considering," I said.

"I thought—well—I thought that I'd make one last pitch to see if you'd be willing to cut us, me and Michael, some slack. You know join us. Let me have this little thing. And it is a little thing," she said.

"Not so little that you that you aren't willing to forego throwing away a good marriage," I said, quite logically. She ignored my logic.

"I'll miss you, Bruce. More than you know," she said. I nodded and headed back down the bar to answer a call for service, and then she was gone.

******

My shift was over, and I was sitting in a booth near the back of Panza's. I'd been relieving Gil, who'd had a family emergency. She plopped down across from me. 

"So, how's it going stud," said Lana.

"Stud? Almost anything else, Lana, but not stud," I said. "My wife and I are breaking up. Oh, she assured me that so long as I could put up with her once a week liaison with her lover that she'd keep me, but absent that little piece of agreeableness, I had to hit the road. Seems he's got four inches on me that Samantha just can't do without. Can you dig it," I said.

"Hmm, a size queen. Yeah, I guess I can dig it," she said. "A lot of women get hung up on size. And, if Kong has got some style; well...

"Don't feel too bad, stud, you've got me. But like I said, I will need a ring if you want me to be your exclusive, you know, to quit the business," she said. I smiled.

"You know, I might just surprise you, woman. Hell, you're about the only female I do trust," I said. She laughed. 

"One thing, stud, I know you love the woman, and from what you've told me I think she loves you too. But, unless you're into the cuckold scene, steer clear of her. She'll make you cry—a lot. Seen it a lot, know the game," said Lana.

"You busy tonight?" I said.

"Just busy trying to get your emotions back on an even keel. Why, you need more; you wanna screw me?" she said.

"Yes." I said.

******

The ride to her place was quiet. Also, it was economical in terms of time lapse. Seven minutes to her apartment, one minute to get inside the apartment, two minutes to get undressed and to share an opening kiss or two, and an estimated half minute thereafter to impale her absolutely delicious body on my dick. Total eleven and a half minutes to achieve ecstasy. Oh, and seven more minutes to make her scream. Yes, sex fans, I actually brought the woman off. I know that because she squirted as she made it.

"Fuck mister studley. It's been a while since any man did that to me. I hope you're up for an encore because I sure as shit am," she said.

She got me up for the encore. It took a while but she did. Unfortunately, I didn't quite have the wherewithal to achieve my earlier success. 

"Well, we learned a couple of things tonight didn't we," she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"Yes, you can do it for me, for a woman; but you do have limitations. Not a deal breaker for most women. Your ex, however, probably does need that little fellow of hers on the side to keep her satisfied in that regard," said Lana. 

"He's a big guy not a little fella," I said. "I'm the little fella." She nodded.

"Yeah, well as your ex-wife said, bedroom skills are not the only skills a woman looks for," she said. "Look at it this way. He'll age and his ability to perform will lessen as have yours; it's nature. On the other hand the things you bring to the table may actually get better with age. Again, it's nature kinda evening things out. Nobody is blessed with everything. Be happy with what you've got." I nodded.

"Yeah, I guess, I said.

******

Lana'd given me food for thought. Samantha couldn't control her sexual desires; it was a simple as that. She knew, probably, that even if she gave up Michael to keep me and my skill set, that she'd eventually cheat, get caught, and lose me anyway. It was a matter of flat being unable to control her animal urges. 

And me? I knew for a fact that I had hole cards up the kazoo and could easily out last good ole Michael and steamroll him in any one-on-one competition. It was a matter of resources; I had 'em; he didn't.

I decided to take Samantha up on her offer. I'd be her cuckold and over time put an end to her cheating, actually change her need to cheat to something else that I could control. Some may wonder why I'd put myself in that position. I had the money, and the power, to do what I wanted. I could have any woman I wanted. Yeah, if I wanted a really sexy gold digger to keep me warm at night. No, I wanted someone who actually not only loved me, but liked me! Samantha was that woman. I knew it and I was going to exploit that little reality to the utmost. 

Oh, and I had one wildcard that I was holding that was going to be part of bringing Samantha to heel. I was going to keep Lana on the side. And, I mean as my exclusive—what—mistress. Samantha would know about her; I'd make sure of that, but I would never rub it in her face; I let her imagination do that. My only problem? Convince Lana to go along with it.

******

The divorce was final, and I was free, sort of. It'd been almost a year now since I'd seen Sam except for the brief meeting in the bar the month before the divorce did in fact become final, that now six months past. Because of the prenup, and Lou's aggressive enforcement of it, she'd ended up with nothing except the house—that was an outright gift from me—which she'd sold. Subsequently she'd moved into asshole's house. 

Norm and let me now that mister Hoerter did okay economically: sixty grand annual selling insurance, and yes, I had finally found out what he did for a living. They had not, however, married. And, I had it on impeccable authority, Norman Gates word, that they weren't even engaged. She was essentially his mistress. 

Lindsey still went to school, played soccer, and took piano lessons. A crumb to me was the fact that Lindsey and her mom argued—on rare occasions—about how she'd chosen to dump me for mister big dick, my words these last. Samantha's lifestyle had taken a hit in the sense that she and I had been living on around a hundred grand annual at the time of the split. 

At any rate, I had plans to make and implement.

******

Sancho's had few patrons this time of day. I was on duty kinda. And, I was on a mission, absolutely. I saw her come in and she was flat gorgeous—no doubt trying to entice me. I was about to let her know that she didn't have to work so hard at it.

"Hi, honey girl," I said.

"Hi," said Lana. "So what's up?"

A couple of things," I said. She looked me askance.

"Question, how are you doing financially?" I said.

"What? What kind of question is that? Have I ever asked you how much money you have?" she said. She was a trifle miffed.

"Lana, I'm not after your money. I just need to know so as to go to the next thing here," I said. She relaxed, but she had a mildly irritated—maybe uncomfortable—look on her face.

"I know you have a private eye who's probably already given you the facts, so why waste time asking me?' she said.

"Lana, the other day I told you that you were one woman, maybe the only woman, that I actually trusted. I would not have you spied on for any reason whatsoever except maybe to protect you. I did not have Norm check up on you. And, if you don't want to tell me, what I would really like to know, it's okay. But it would be helpful if you did," I said. She hesitated.

"Okay, okay. I trust you too," she said. "Things are tough right now. I might lose my condo. Bad investments basically. I trusted my banker friend. He steered me wrong. But, I still have some resources." I nodded gravely.

"Okay, this is the deal. I'm planning to take some of the things, that you said to me a few days ago, to heart. I'm going to go back to Samantha. But, I am not going to go back and just be a long suffering hubby and her accepting cuckold. No indeed. But, to do things the way I'd like to, I need you in my corner. I want you to be my mistress." Her eyes shot open. Her mouth followed suit a nanosecond later.

"Absolutely not!" she said. "Where do you get off..."

"Lana, with all due respect, shut up," she sputtered and started to get up out of her seat. I had to stop her without being physical. "Five million," I said.

"Huh? Wha..." she barked.

"A one time payment in tax free money to any bank you like, including an off shore one if that would be your choice. That, to make you my exclusive paramour," I said. "And, I mean for life. If she's going to have her ten inch dick; I'm going to have my first class lover and sex instructor."




Samantha and Bruce



"Huh? I mean you have that kind of money. I knew you had some, but I had no idea. I mean..."

"Uh huh," I said.

"Bruce if this is..."

"No, Lana, this is no joke," I said. "I can have a certified check delivered to you before we leave this booth today. Or, I can have the money delivered to any account you name within the hour. Your choice."

"You really are serious aren't you?" she said. "I never had a clue."

"You weren't supposed to, and no matter what you decide here. It stays between us forever. Okay? I said. She nodded.

"I'll take the check," she said. I picked up my cell. "Frank, deliver it. Yes. Thanks," I said. We sipped out Lites and waited. Seven minutes later the check arrived. The delivery guy handed it to me; I signed for it, and handed it to Lana."

"Okay, you're rich. Keep your condo for a while. I don't want any male gold diggers chasing after you," I said smiling. She laughed, kinda hysterically.

"Bruce, I don't know what to say. I guess, I guess, well, I guess I'm your mistress for life. I'd rather have married you, but this will be good too," she said. "Oh, and yes, I am out of the business as of this minute."

"Lana, a piece of advice: don't do like so many other instant millionaires have done and start living crazy. It's a lot of money and if you set it up right the interest on it alone will keep you in good health and wealth your whole life.

"I chose you Lana because you are a woman that I trust. I can't trust the love of my life—go figure—but I can trust a high priced girl of the evening. It is what it is. I decided on the five million because it's enough. Put it in tax free government paper and you'll reap a safe twenty-five grand a month without even touching the principal. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

"Yes sir," she said.

"I'll be setting up a schedule with you soon, maybe even by tomorrow. You'll always know—well pretty much always—know in advance when I'll be over. And, one last thing.

"Yes?" she said.

"It may be, actually, will likely be, that you will have boyfriends. Heck, it may be that one day you'll meet a guy you want to marry. I have no problem with either of those. But, even in that event, I will ask that we keep on keepin' on with you as my mistress. Which of course means that you'll have to tell the guy if marriage is in the works. And, if he's good with being your cuckold, as I will be Samantha's; then, well then, I will make it good by him. Okay?" I said.

"Bruce, that is exactly as it will be. I mean, if, anyone ever strikes my fancy enough for me to want to marry him," she said. I nodded. Like I told her, I did trust her.

******

It was 10AM. I knew Hoerter would likely be at work. I was parked outside his house and feeling like a guy with a date with the hangman. I got out and headed for the front door. I pushed the buzzer. She answered the door.

"Bruce!"

"Yeah, it's me," I said. "I want to come back," I said. Her eyes got big.

"What did you say?" she said. I was still standing on the porch.

"I said, if you still want me, I am willing to be your cuckold. I want to come back."

"Oh my!" she said. She embraced me. She invited me in. She made a pot of coffee. We caught up on the things, mundane things, and then it was time to talk about the elephant in the room.

"Bruce, a year ago, you and I were living together as man and wife. I had sex on the side—yes behind your back—on Tuesday mornings. But, then you divorced me. Michael took me in, supported me, took care of Lindsey. Well, I mean things are different now," she said.

"I've thought about all of that," I said. "I want to come back, remarry you, and be your accepting cuckold if that is still your requirement," I said. That stopped her: the remarriage part.

Really?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"But Bruce, even if we did, you know, remarry; I'm afraid it would be a lot more than just Tuesday mornings now. Could you handle that?" she said.

"Yes?" I said.

"You couldn't before. But, you say you could now?" she said.

"Yes, before it was just you and me and Michael. This time around, well, I have a mistress. Her name's Lana. I intend to keep her no matter what. You'll have your ten inch dick, and I'll have a sex machine of my own," I said.

"Nine inch dick," she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"Nine inches; he's only got nine inches," she said. I smirked.

"I stand corrected," I said.

"You say a mistress?" she said.

"Yes." She leaned back in her seat. 

"Bruce, I'm going to say something you might not like. Over the past year, I've become emotionally involved with Michael. I'm afraid he wouldn't approve of my seeing you too, I mean even if we didn't remarry," she said.

"But—he hasn't married you," I offered. 

"No, that's true, but it won't be true for much longer. He's proposed, just yesterday actually. We've set the date for next month."

"Really! Oh, okay. I guess I'll be going then. Sam, best of luck to you and him, really. Send me an invitation, okay?" she tendered me a warm but sympathetic smile. I rose and let myself out.

It was still morning. I had time. Time to go shopping.

She'd got there before me. Gil was tending. Panza'd become my favorite watering hole. Well, it had sentimental value.

"I came to her and wasted no time falling to my knees in front of her. "Lana, please do me the honor of becoming my wife—please—I beg of you," I said.

"But what about Samantha?" she said.

"She's marrying the other guy. Besides it's you I love anyway. I thought I needed to take one more shot at her, but I was wrong. Whaddya say?" I said.

"I say yes," she said. 

"Good!" I said. "Thank God!" Soon we were surrounded by Gil several of the regulars, and all of the help. The congrats and the bubbly seemed without end or limit. "I made a couple of calls; then, she and I headed for her place.

******

I did get the invite to Sam's and Michael's wedding. And I attended. Actually my new wife, Lana Turner nee Lang, and I attended. Oh, and yes, I had finally gotten her last name. But of course now she had mine.

Lana had said yes. And, she would have married me regardless, so she assured me; but there had been a small requirement.

"I have just one question for you Bruce before you take me and make me yours and yours alone," she'd said.

"And?" I said.

"Just how the hell rich are you?" I gave her a look and realized that she was the one person in the world that I would willingly disclose such to. I hadn't done it with Samantha which I guess said something. But, Lana was different.

"Around a hundred Mil more or less," I said. She fell into her seat. 

"And you're a fucking bartender!" she said. When you gave me that five mil I knew of course that being a bartender had to be hobby for you. But, numbers like the ones you just laid on me makes me ask the next question. Why the hell are you working at all?"

"Partly as a cover, and partly because I like it," I said.

"Really? And, did Samantha know? Suspect?" 

"No, and she won't. I will see to it that Lindsey gets a scholarship, anonymously, when she's old enough. But as for Samantha and Michael; she's got what she wants and needs and so do I—finally," I said. She came to me, and we made love on the carpet, then in the dinette, and then oral sex in the bedroom. I liked the carpet best, go figure.

******

Well, and I was wrong of course. Samantha did discover my secret. Lana and I had, over the next few years, become amateur philanthropists. One recipient of our largesse had resources, found out about me, and had let the info accidentally or purposely slip to a reporter. We were all over the newspapers in less than twenty-four. I got a visit at Sancho's.

"Well, Bruce, you certainly had me fooled. I guess I blew it, huh?" she said. I continued wiping the snifter I had in my hand as she nursed the drink in front of her.

"Blew what, Samantha?" I said.

"I coulda had a billionaire, instead I got a workaday guy who has trouble making our bills each month," she said.

"A billionaire?" I said.

"Don't play dumb, Bruce, I read the papers," she said.

"I'm not a billionaire, Sam. Just a guy tending bar for his next meal," I said, and yes I was deadpanning.

"You saying you're not filthy rich?" she said.

"No, I'm saying I'm not a billionaire," I said.

"But, I am curious. I thought you were happy with mister nine inches? Not so?" I said.

"He's okay, not a great provider. But okay. The sex is still primo," she said.

"Hmm. Well, I'm still only so-so in the sex department as you were more than happy to remind in times gone by. And, I am a good provider, and no I don't have to worry about the monthly electric bill. We all make our choices," I said.

"Yes, and I sure would like to have a couple of mine back,' she said.

"Hmm, me too," I said. She smiled at that, I think a little hopefully.

"Lindsey asks about you from time to time. It was she who showed me the article about you and your wife and that charity thing and all. You need to drop by and say hello from time to time. I would make it worth your while," she said. Her look was absolutely mercenary. I looked her askance.

"Are you offering to spread for me, Sam?" I said.

"Read it any way you want," she said, smiling. "But, Lindsey would love to see you once in a while.

"I'll take it under advisement," I said. I had to guess that I really never had known this woman. It had been a million years ago that we'd danced together. Now, the only one I danced with was my wife and sexual mentor, Lana Turner nee Lang.

EPILOG:

I did drop by the Hoerter residence from time to time after my little talk with Sam. But, every time I did Lana was on my arm. We had them over for barbecues, and we attended a few at their house as well. I had the feeling that the two of them got off on rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. And, every time we did consort with them I got looks from Sam that were a mix of come-ons, and, frustration with herself for choosing badly. 

Lindsey did go to Yale. She got a full ride scholarship from an anonymous donor; that everybody in our circle knew the name of. Well, I had become attached to the kid. Besides everybody can use a heart cardio-vascular surgeon in the family.

I had the feeling that I could have had Sam any time I wanted by snapping my fingers. But, I would never do her again. The last thing I needed now was a prostitute. And no, Lana ain't no prostitute. She's an ex-prostitute.

The End