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Backgammon for Blood

By: adamgunn



The story you are about to read is a fantasy. All characters are fictional. However, if you do see Susan, please tell her that I'd like a return match.

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She was leaning on the receptionist's desk, conferring with the other lass. Red pumps, long legs that went all the way up, crimson skirt exposing the knee, a gold chain masquerading as a belt around a slender waist, tawny blouse pleasantly filled out and covered with a scarlet vest, a ruby ring on her right hand but nothing save a bracelet on the left, shoulder length brunette hair, cinnamon eyes large enough to devour you, and a smile that would charm Scrooge. Definitely nothing that would hurt the eyes.

"Hi!" she said, "You must be the guy on special assignment. I'm Susan."

"Sure am," I wittily replied, "name's Kirby. Phil Kirby." Oh, well, they can't all be winners. My new boss then joined us. Susan, it seems, was one of my peers in the group. After a few more pleasantries, she went her way, and I was invited into the boss's office for coffee and a chat.

I was on temporary assignment to headquarters for the next year. They needed help in rolling out a new product, and my skill set matched the requirements - customer technical support with a recent degree in marketing, which I was desperate to use. They were bringing me down for the duration, giving me an apartment and letting me commute on weekends to my wife and home about three hours away. I was looking forward to the change of pace, and felt sure that it would lead to a promotion when I went back to the field. Personally, I also looked forward to a year away. My wife and I, after years of marriage, had reached the blahs and we both figured that this would give us a little break from each other. My body was doing the forty-thing, getting a little too heavy here and there, and this would give me a chance to trim up. Of course, I had to put my life on hold back home, but this was no big thing. My only child from a previous marriage was a senior in high school who lived with her mother and didn't much want to see her old man on weekends anyway. I resigned as president of the backgammon club, and was on my way.

I began to immerse myself in the new role, and was contented. My project was running on schedule and under budget. All of my peers were agreeable people who liked to get together after work every once in awhile, and Susan of the red outfits usually accompanied us. After three months I was getting into shape (working out at the corporate health center instead of eating ice cream every night will do that,) and I really looked forward to the weekends. If I hadn't developed any close friends in the new city, it wasn't a big thing. There was only one thing missing in my life. . .

I'd been working with Susan on collateral for my project, and had learned that she had a reputation as a person who always did what she said she would, and made sure that commitments that she received from others were kept. A real straight arrow; if she told you that the sun was going to rise in the north, watch for Santa to be digging a swimming pool, because all the ice at the north pole was going to melt. The only real oddity that I had observed about her was that she liked to wear red. Even when her basic outfit was another color, she used red jewelry, scarves or other accents. One day I stopped into her office, and noticed a backgammon board on her bookshelf.

"You play?" I asked her.

"Only for blood," she retorted.

"I've played a little in my time. How much blood do you want?"

"I'll start you out at a buck a game. You do know how to use the doubling cube, don't you?"

"Is that the extra piece that I gave to my daughter to use as a footstool in her dollhouse?"

We made plans to meet in the cafeteria the next day for lunch. She was good, real good, and after an hour I figured I was lucky to be down only three dollars. Over the next three weeks we played at lunchtime two or three times a week. I enjoyed the companionship and she seemed to enjoy our chatter over the sound of the stones clinking. I discovered the salient facts; married once for a few years a ways back, now single and happy about it; no children and no desire for children; worked out at a health club three times a week; the reason that she wore red was because she was able to look sexy without being unprofessional; and the other things you find out just by being around someone. However, she never referred to Significant Others in her life; in fact, she seemed to avoid the subject.

She also got my basic statistics - how I was 'happily' married and enjoyed my weekends at home; my musical tastes; the fact that I wasn't too lonely, and all of that.

We were having a good time. During my first weekend after the games started, I got out my old copies of Robertie and Jacoby and brushed up on my backgammon. After three weeks, she was only a few dollars up, and I felt I was holding my own. I considered inviting her out after work, just for companionship, but I always lost my nerve at the last minute.

Late on a Thursday afternoon one of the guys came in to my office and said a bunch of folk were going up to a local bar and restaurant for a few pops after work; was I in? "Sure," I replied. I finished up the remaining details of the day, and when I got to the pub, most everybody was there. We started playing darts, and somehow Susan became my partner. She insisted, of course, that we get the red arrows, and I found out that backgammon wasn't the only game she was proficient in. We wound up whipping all comers, not necessarily due to my superb play. After awhile the party started pooping out, and eventually, Susan and I were the last ones standing.

"Dinner?" she asked.

"What's the food like here?"

"Passable. Let's get a table and order. I'm famished."

Sitting down, we ordered, and then got to talking over a couple more drinks.

"What's it like to only have the weekends?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know. Nothing during the week and then you go home. Do you and your wife act like teenagers, doing it in the kitchen because you can't wait to get upstairs? Or do you turn Letterman on and get it on during the commercial?"

"Actually, it's great. We hadn't had that much interest in it, but now when I get home it's pretty romantic, even if we do the same old things. The weeks get a little long, but . . . ."

"Did you ever think about having an affair?"

"Always, I think about it. But I've never looked for the opportunity, at least in this marriage. Now, I guess, I'm too set in my ways. And, after all, at my age I can't imagine any woman that I would want wanting me."

"Nonsense," she said, "You're a very sensitive and attractive man. Any woman in her right mind would love to see what you have to offer. . . . Don't you want to know about me?" she said.

"As far as sex? I figure a hot number like you would have a hundred guys. Or is the Age of Aids crimping your style?"

"You've got it. A single girl's got to be pretty careful these days. I've always been the kind of girl to have one guy at a time anyway. My last boyfriend got transferred to the coast three weeks ago and that one's over, so now I'm back to being celibate. I really need a safe date."

I was trying to figure out how I could offer humorously myself as a stopgap as the blond waitress delivered our sandwiches, breaking into our intimacy with a question about ketchup. The spell was broken, and the conversation slipped into something else. After dinner I escorted her to her car. She said, "You know, you're a really nice guy," and then pecked me on the cheek. Although I thought the attraction was starting to build and was having fantasies about how the evening was going to turn out, she slinked into her bucket seat and drove off.

On the weekend my wife was quite pleased as I was fantasizing about Susan while taking care of her, and on Monday morning a yellow stickie was posted to my phone. "Backgammon today. I'm gonna have your ass!" I don't know what got into her, but she played fantastically that afternoon. She won 6 games straight, and gammoned me twice. As I got my wallet out to give her the $8 I'd lost she queried, "Doing anything Wednesday night?"

"Just the usual," I said, "frozen pot pie."

"Why don't you come over to my place and let me cook up some pasta? Then we can play some backgammon."

"Sounds great. What can I bring?"

"How about a bottle of wine?"

"Red?"

"How did you guess?"

Wednesday came, and I was like a kid on a first date. I felt silly. I knew that Susan and I were becoming good friends, but she hadn't given me any indication that I was anything other than a backgammon buddy. And she knew I was married. I told myself to start acting my age. On the way over, I stopped into a liquor store and couldn't decide between Zinfandel or Merlot. So I bought both.

Susan greeted me with a brief hug. After she'd taken the wine off my hands, I noticed that she hadn't changed from work. Red skirt with a matching laced blouse. She was walking around in her stockinged feet. "Sit down," she said, "and I'll open the wine." Her condominium was elegant and decorated in creams with magenta accents, with lots of artwork. Classic Rock was playing on the stereo. Some plaques were on the wall, and a few trophies were on the mantle. She brought two glasses of the Merlot she had uncorked and sat on the couch beside me, crossing her legs. The short skirt allowed me to see a lot of skin under the pantyhose.

Pointing to the mantle I asked, "Nice do-dads. Where did you get them?"

"Oh here and there. The big one is for bad behavior, and the one next to it is for good technique." I got up and read the inscriptions. They celebrated her backgammon championships of the Midwest city where she grew up, and two were runners-up for the local backgammon club.

"You've been easy on me," I remarked.

"Tonight, I think you'll see just how rough I can be!" I scorned at her in mock terror, and she continued, "Remember, I always keep my word."

I helped Susan finish up the dinner, and we bumped into each other a couple of times. As she passed me once, her bosom brushed against my arm. Dinner was superb. Salad followed by pasta, with conversation that bordered on the risqué. As we finished eating, Susan opened up the second bottle of wine. Winking at me, she said, "I'm glad we saved the Zinfandel for last. It's much spicier. Why don't you go into the living room and set up the board on the coffee table? I'll be in after I clear the dishes." I set up the scarlet leather board with blood and ivory stones I found on the glass table, and kicked my shoes off to match Susan's style. She followed me in, sat down beside me, and took my hand in hers.

"Do you mind if we raise the stakes?" she asked.

"What did you want to play for?"

"How about if we play strip backgammon? A nine game match. For each game that you lose, a piece of clothing comes off. If you lose the match, you go home. If I lose, I'll do anything you'd like me to." Although I needed to take another sip of wine to cover my shock, I quickly agreed.

"Seems like a fair match to me. You're better than I am, though."

"You want a handicap? " she smiled. "No deal. You'll just have to play the game of your life."

Before we began, Susan puttered around, dimming the lamps and lighting two vermilion candelabra she brought from a table in the hall and swapped the rock with light jazz. She reclined on the floor, showing quite a bit of leg, and purred, "Let the excitement begin." I slipped off the couch to squat on the floor opposite her.

I got lucky in the first game. 3-1 was my opening roll, and after a few moments, I had her penned into her home court and hit one of her blots. On her next roll, she got off the bar onto the three point, but faced a five-point block. I put the cube on the table. She just looked at it, stood up and slowly peeled her pantyhose off. While her skirt was up, I was treated to a hint of her panties that were, of course, red. She sat down again, exposing as much leg as possible without giving me a good look at anything further up. "Enjoy the show," she said, "this look-see may be best you get."

She came out strong in the second game, built a slight advantage, and offered me the cube. I thought hard about accepting it, and finally picked it up and put it in my home. Susan immediately rolled double fours, and put me on the bar. I got off, covering the four spot in her home court, but Susan then rolled double threes. I was lucky to get two men off the board before she closed me out to win a double game. "I assume you're not wearing an undershirt?" she asked. "Then, to make it fair, take off your socks and belt." I still had my shirt, pants and briefs, and could tell that she had panties and bra beneath her skirt and blouse. As my socks joined her pantyhose, she remarked, "Ooooh, long toes! Is there any truth to the rumor?"

"You'll have to win three more games to verify the fact," I replied, without showing much confidence that I could stop her.

The next game started with Susan splitting a 5-2. I got fortunate, and rolled double sixes. She then rolled a 3-1 and chose to build her five point. I was lucky enough to roll a 4-3, putting her on the bar. Soon thereafter, I had a five-point block with her three stones still in my home court. I got so far ahead so quickly that I never thought about offering her the cube. I put her on the bar again, and had all the points in my home court covered except for the one point, which contained the two stones which she had never moved. I managed to get five men home before she came off the bar, and a few rolls later she conceded the gammon.

"Well," she said, "You're going to get more show than I had bargained on." I watched her slowly unbutton her blouse to expose a red translucent bra. Her nipples were large, and looked as taut as the obvious lump in my lap which Susan could see through the coffee table. She then stood up, unzipped her skirt and slipped it to the floor, demonstrating just how long her legs really were.

"My, my," she said, looking down through the glass, "I knew you were going to play hard, but I didn't realize that you brought reinforcements." She sat back down, and moved her foot up to rest it on my trousers a few inches below my crotch. Her mound of Venus was protruding from her bikini panties, little more than a g-string actually, and she was observing with interest the sizable increase in the mass of my fly. "Now, I guess I have to be both good and lucky."

I'd played enough with her to realize that no lead was safe. The next game was clearly hers, and I scoffed at the cube when she offered it. I could see her eyes light up when I pulled the golf shirt over my head. "You've lost weight, haven't you? You really look good!"

The next game was no better, and I was easily beat again. As I stood up to unzip my fly and remove my trousers, Susan licked her lips. "Oh, blue briefs!" she exclaimed. "And just barely the right size, at least right now. I like a man who's not afraid to wear color where it counts." I could see that her panties were a little darker near the crotch, as if they were moist.

Things were looking grim. I had to win two games against a better player than I or go home frustrated, as I knew Susan would be good to her word. I wondered, if I lost, if she would give me a repeat match, or if this was my one and only chance.

The next game was tight. At the end, we both had all of our stones in our home courts, except that I controlled the eight point in her outer court, and she had two stones on my twelve point. A slight advantage to her. On her roll, she got a 6-2 and had to move past my stones. She moved her other stone to her eleven point. My chance had arrived. Yes! A 5-3. Hitting her blot, I moved my stones. In her first attempt, she failed to get off the bar. A 6-4 roll enabled me to move one stone onto my six point, and the other into my outer court, leaving only my 5 point open. But, as luck would have it, she rolled a 6-5, and was past me before I knew it. It was all up to the dice now. I had a slight advantage, and took it to game as neither of us was able to roll doubles. When I removed my last stone from the table, Susan softly moaned.

She got up, and came around to my side of the coffee table. I could easily scent her womanhood, and her panties were quite wet by now. My blue briefs were showing a small stain where my cock was beginning to emit seminal fluid. She knelt down beside me, took my face in her hands and kissed me deeply. She then sat down on my lap and asked me to undo the clasp on her bra. It buckled in the front, and as I put my fingers into her cleavage I rubbed my wrists over her nipples, sending shudders through both of us. As I unclasped the bra and slid it from her shoulders, I was treated to the view of her perfect breasts; Susan wasn't large, perhaps a 34B, but her teats were very firm with aureoles the size of a silver dollar. Her nipples protruded nearly a half-inch. 

She then turned to me and began kissing me deeply while her hands were gently stroking the back of my neck. Her breasts were brushing against my chest, and I began to stoke her back with one hand, and her legs with the other. After awhile, she took the hand that was on her legs and placed it on her breast. She lowered her head to suck on my nipples, and moaned "pinch it." When I squeezed her erect nipple, she groaned "that's so good." She moved so I could easily kiss and suck her breasts. Her hands were all over me, but she didn't touch my briefs or the prick that was straining to be released. My hands, of course, were roaming her body; her hair, her neck and back, the breast that I wasn't suckling at the time, her feet and legs. I put my hand on her thigh, and slowly brought it up; Susan spread her legs a little further apart, welcoming my fingers to the honey pot. But just as my fingers caressed her now dripping panties she stopped and whispered, "Oh, I want you so much. But you HAVE to win the final game." She gave me a last kiss, and then rose and went back to her side of the coffee table. She sat down cross-legged and asked, "The show is getting better now, isn't it?"

The last game started slowly, with both of us building in the outer courts. Susan was able to escape from my home while my two stones stayed in after she was able to build a four-point block around the bar. Although I was able to build up my inner court, it was doing no good, as Susan pressed her advantage to give her a six-point block with the extra stones on her two, three and four points. On her next move, she rolled a 5-4 and moved all her points into her home. I rolled a 6-2 and had to move one of my stones out. My minimal back game was busted, and now it seemed too late.

And then she rolled a 6-5. She had to take her first stone off the board leaving a decision on what to do with the other stone on that point. She looked at me and said, "I'd love to leave you two blots. But then I KNOW you wouldn't respect me in the morning." She moved her other stone to her one point, and my stone onto the bar. Leaving the dice on the table, she cupped her breasts with her hands and whispered, "Good luck."

I knew that this would be my last chance. After she picked her dice up, I rolled. One of the die immediately came up a 5, but the other spun on it's curved edges, finally coming to rest with a one showing. As I moved my hand to take my stone off the bar onto her blot, she held it and kissed it, then said, "Keep it up!" As her eyes were wandering, I didn't know if she was speaking of my good luck or another attribute.

From then on, the game was clearly mine. As she failed to quickly roll a number that would release her piece from the bar, my stones easily raced around and then off the board. When my last was released from the playing field, Susan still had six stones remaining.


Backgammon For Blood Ch. 02



This is a companion story to Backgammon For Blood. It isn't necessary that you read that story first, but it might be helpful to you.

*

I was lonely. Even my art books weren't any comfort to me. I just wanted some love, and I thought that the only person who could provide it was Phil.

The first day without him had gone on much too long, and I knew I faced another four long evenings before I would see him again. And then another week would go on. And the week after that, for a full year. I realized that I needed something to take my mind away, so I got some paper and began to draw a head. Even though the pencil stopped at the man's shoulders, I knew he was naked.

Phil had taken a temporary job at corporate headquarters and would be staying there during the week, coming home on weekends. This was one of the sacrifices you make to advance in the corporate world, he'd explained to me. After six years of night classes for a marketing degree, there was no place for him in the field office he worked in.

To make matters worse, our only daughter had left for college the previous September. I would truly have an empty nest.

Finally, Phil arrived late on Friday evening. I wanted to talk, and to make love to him, but he was tired from the long week and drive home. I followed him to bed, but he just dropped off to sleep. I wasn't surprised - we only made love a few times a month even when he was living at home - but I was disappointed. When we were dating in our 20's we screwed anytime and anywhere, and the first few months after our marriage we did it almost every night. But then we had the baby, and we had to be more careful. Since then, the importance of regular or hot sex just fell off the table.

Saturday morning in the mail was a brochure from the local community college offering non-credit courses. Phil picked it up as I was doing the breakfast dishes and said, "Just what you need. Look here's a swimming course. No? Well how about introductory backgammon?" He ducked as I threw a sponge at him - Phil was a member of a local backgammon club and he tried to teach me the game, but I knew that if I ever got good at it, he'd just become resentful. "Okay, here's one - drawing with charcoal." Now that got me interested. I've always enjoyed doodling, and sometimes my friends saw my scratchings, usually of people, and said I was pretty good. Although I'd bought some art books, I'd never had any formal training, and I was concerned that the other people in the class might be better than I.

"I don't know," I said, "it's probably too expensive."

"Kathy, it's only $50. How cheap do you want it to be?" Phil kept on it all day, until I told him to shut up about it. We slept on it that night and over lunch the next day, I told him that I'd made up my mind; I was going to take the course.

A couple of weeks later, my classes began on a Tuesday evening. We had twelve people in the class, and our instructor was a real artist - he must have been, he looked the part. James was wearing blue jeans and a faded shirt and had a scruffy beard - definitely not my type. He had us drawing almost immediately, whatever we wanted to. I started drawing a picture of a tall man, and James noticed it. "You're good," he said. As we displayed our sketches to the class at the end of the exercise, I saw that there was only one person who was more advanced than I. As I was driving home, I felt as proud of myself as I had in years.

The class continued for five weeks, and I really enjoyed it. I felt I was making progress, and James was very encouraging. After one of the last classes, James took me aside and told me that he had a studio. In two weeks, he was starting a class in drawing the human figure. He felt that was my strong point, and invited me to take it. I discussed it with Phil when he called, and he encouraged me to continue with my lessons.

At the first class in James' studio, he spoke to us about theory for awhile, James split us up into pairs. My partner was Robert, a nice looking man about my age wearing a mock turtleneck and a sports coat. Our assignment was for us to draw each other. Every once in a while, Robert asked me to look up at the lights. When he showed me his work, I was impressed. He'd managed to capture my long black hair and facial features in a simple but powerful manner.

After class the next week Robert came over to me as we were leaving and asked me if I would like to join him at a coffee shop. I couldn't bring myself to go, but said (even if I didn't believe it,) "Maybe next week."

When Phil came home the next weekend, he asked me about my week. I just blurted out, "Some guy made a pass at me!" I don't know why I said that - Robert had been a perfect gentleman. When Phil asked me about it, I told him the whole story. I guess it came through that I didn't think that I should go out with Robert, and Phil was incredulous. "Do you think," he said, "that your having coffee with another guy is going to ruin our marriage?" However, this had the most interesting effect on Phil. That evening, instead of heading directly to sleep, we made long, slow love.

The next class came and at the break I went over to talk to Robert. "Coffee?" I asked. He said he'd love to, and we made a plan to meet at a Starbucks.

After we got there, we had a wonderful time just chatting. Robert was the owner of a jewelry business with three stores. I knew the chain; it was very successful and carried only the best lines. He had been widowed for a year and a half and he was thrilled to be with me, as he hadn't had a date since then. He found out all about me, and told me what a lucky guy Phil was. He said that although he'd had some art instruction in college, he hadn't done any serious work in years. The class was a way for him to exercise his talents and meet new people. I really enjoyed myself, and agreed to have coffee with him again next week, after the last class in the five-week series.

During the class, James announced that he would be startling another class, this time in nude illustration, and invited the entire group to sign up for it.

At the coffee house, we started talking it over. We were both excited by the prospect - you simply don't get good without learning to draw anatomy. However, the cost was of concern - $400 for an eight week class. Robert thought that he could swing it, but he really didn't want to go alone. I said I'd think about it, and would call him.

The next two days, before Phil came home, I took out my sketchpad and started drawing the male figure from my imagination. I sketched eight or nine nude illustrations, and then put it aside on the desk. Friday night, when Phil got home, he couldn't wait to get to me. Undressing me, he laid me on my back and came up to me while he was on his side. It gave both of us tremendous leverage, and I had a huge orgasm! I loved it.

The next day, Phil was hunting for some papers, and stumbled across my sketchpad. He asked me if he could look at it, and I told him it was all right. There was my figure of a man, the picture of Robert (although Phil didn't know who he was,) and some other innocuous pictures - and then the male nudes. Phil looked at them with interest, and then gave me a questioning glance. I then told him about the offer that James had made.

"Are you interested in drawing these?" Phil asked.

"Yes I really am," I said. "I just don't know if it's worth the cost."

Phil assured me that if I wanted to, I should go ahead; it wasn't that expensive. On Monday, I called Robert to talk it over, and we both agreed to enroll. After a few moments, Robert asked if I would like to go to dinner with him on Tuesday. "Oh, I don't know . . ."

"Kathy, I'd really appreciate it if you'd come out with me. You've really brightened up my Tuesday evenings for the last few weeks, and I'd like that to continue. Please?"

"Since you put it that way, all right."

He picked me up about 7. I wore a nice frock, a necklace, and I made sure to put some perfume on. He came to the door in a suit. I was impressed as he opened the car door for me; Phil almost never does that. We drove to the University area, and Robert pulled up to a private club that I'd heard about, but had never been in. The doorman addressed him by name; it was clear that Robert was a regular here.

As we walked into the club, Robert told me that the reason he'd brought me here was that he thought I'd be interested in the wall hangings, and I was. Most of the art was priceless. While we ate dinner in the Grand Ballroom, we talked art, and most of the time we were able to illustrate our points by simply pointing at one of the pieces around us. After dinner, Robert asked me if I would like to look at a special room. When I agreed, we walked to a large staircase, and Robert said, "I don't want you to be shocked, but I'm taking you up to the men's smoking room. On Tuesday nights, there's rarely anyone there. If someone is in the room, we'll have to leave, as women aren't normally allowed up there." I wondered why he wanted me to see this, and after he'd peeked in, he allowed me to enter. Of course, I saw immediately, as there must have been 40 or 50 female nudes on the walls. As I looked around, I was appalled. Not by the figures, but by the techniques. It was obvious that the purpose was for the men to enjoy nudity, not art. But then Robert led me into a corner, and I saw a small etching that was impressive. As I stood inspecting it, Robert said, "I've sat here many an evening with my friends, and listened to them grossly dissect these pieces of 'art.' But this is the only composition in this room I've ever enjoyed. I keep thinking that maybe I'll produce a piece that will go in here and outshine the junk." He put his arm around me, and I didn't make him take it away. We discussed the paintings, and I asked Robert if he was looking forward to the class on nudes.

"I think the female body is a beautiful thing, and I'd like to learn how to draw it in both a sensual and erotic method," he replied. I was looking forward to seeing his progress, as Robert was the most talented artist I'd ever met; I was sure he didn't need to learn much.

When we got back to my house, I thanked Robert and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. When he suggested that we do something the next week, I agreed.

As Phil made love to me the next weekend, he was very inventive; I was wondering what was turning him on, but I really didn't care. Just as long as he kept it up! And, for awhile, I confess that I fantasized that I was with Robert, not Phil.

On Monday, Robert phoned me and suggested that we go to an Art Theater on Tuesday to see a foreign film about Picasso. I agreed. The film was poorly directed, and there was quite a bit of both female and male nudity in it. Walking back to his car afterwards, Robert seemed embarrassed about the film. I told him, of course, that there was no need to be.

When we got back to my house, it was still early, and I invited Robert in for a drink. For some reason, he began to speak of love. Not in a coarse manner, but simply as one of the joys in life. I could see how much he missed his wife, and I wished I could help him with his concerns. As he left, I hugged him tenderly.

About 45 minutes later, the phone rang. It was nearly midnight, a little late for Phil to be calling. "Hello?"

"Hello, Kathy, I hope you don't mind, but I just wanted to hear your voice one more time tonight," Robert said.

I was flattered, and felt that Robert and I had something special between us. "Thank you. I'm glad you called. I've been enjoying our time together."

"I wish we could spend more time together, Kathy. In fact, I wish I could spend the rest of my life with you."

"Oh, Robert, but I'm married."

"I'm sorry, Kathy. I didn't mean to sound improper. I know you wouldn't cheat on your husband. But I do hope that you'll share your mind with me!"

"If it's only my mind you want, you may have as much as you like, dearest."

"May I call you again?"

"Anytime you like. And now, I need to sleep. Goodnight."

But I couldn't become drowsy after we'd hung up. I kept thinking of him, and I admit that I rubbed myself to satisfaction, thinking of Robert.

He continued to call me every night, except for weekends, and we continued to discuss his loneliness. On Friday, we discussed the class that would be beginning the next Tuesday. It seemed that we were both a little nervous, as neither of us had ever been in a room with a live, nude model before.

"And besides," Robert told me, "I believe that beautiful bodies are not what would make a good model. I think I'd prefer to draw someone with a beautiful personality, such as yourself."

"Are you asking me to pose nude for you?"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't do that."

"That's too bad, Robert, because I don't know if I would or not." I meant it as a joke, but it came out more seriously than I meant.

And with that, I decided to terminate the call.

I couldn't wait until Robert phoned me on Monday night. After a few preliminaries, Robert said, "Kathy, I hope you're not upset because of my suggestion on Friday."

"Of course not. In fact, I'm flattered. You are such a wonderful artist. I just don't know if I'd make a good model."

"Oh, you'd be wonderful."

We quickly dropped that line of conversation; we could both tell it was too dangerous. I agreed that he could pick me up the next evening, and escort me to class.

As we both feared, the model in the first class was devoid of life. She simply walked out into the room and stood there. We tried our best, and James attempted to help us, but neither of us was inspired by the girl.

As he was driving me home, Robert remarked, "She was very comely, but there was no beauty in her. I do wish you'd model for me, Kathy."

"Oh, I'd like to, but . . ."

Robert stayed for a few moments, but quickly made his departure. When I was sure he was at home, I telephoned him.

"Dear, I could never let you see me naked, but what if I wore just my underwear? Would you like to sketch me that way?" He was excited by the proposal, and I agreed to come to his apartment the next evening to pose for him.

I considered calling Phil to discuss it, but finally decided that what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. It wasn't like I was being unfaithful, I was just letting my body be used for art's sake!

I walked into Robert's townhouse, and found that it was exquisitely arranged. Alicia, he explained, was an artist herself, and had an eye for interior decoration. He showed me to a powder room, and allowed me to take my outer clothes off. I'd picked out a translucent bra and panties, so that Robert could view as much of my body as possible.

Robert had me sit on the couch, and began sketching. I remember the cautiousness of his touch as he arranged my limbs, and appreciated his sensitivity. After 45 minutes or so, Robert finally asked me if I would like to see the finished work. He had made me so beautiful in charcoal. Everything that was good about me had somehow been exaggerated until I was beautiful. It took my breath away. "Oh, Robert," I murmured, and leaned backwards against him.

I felt his arms around me, and I turned towards him, putting my face up to be kissed. It was as long, slow and passionate as anything I've ever experienced. It was as if there was nothing for him to do for the rest of his life other than kiss me. We went the couch, and continued the ardor. For a long, long time, neither of us touched anything other than arms, back and face, but at length I began to stroke his chest through his shirt. The feelings that we shared for each other began to overpower us, and Robert began to stroke my breasts through the bra.

I wanted him to continue, to make love to me, but I suddenly felt guilty, and stopped him. "Dearest, we can't continue this."

"I know," he replied, "but I want you so much." With that, I rose and walked into the bathroom to dress. As I returned, fully clothed, I took his face in my hands, and gently touched his lips to mine.

When I got home, a message of chagrin and doubt had already been placed on the answering machine. Returning his call, I told him how much I enjoyed his company, and that I wanted to see him again very soon.

"Will you pose for me again?"

"Certainly."

"This makes me so happy, Kathy. And the next time, if I could ask for one more favor?"

"What's that?"

"I love the way your legs react when you wear high heeled shoes. If you could keep them on ...."

"If that's all it takes to make you satisfied, I'll be happy to do it." We made plans to meet again on Monday night, once again at his house.

I planned to pose for him again that evening, and had worn similar underwear and a set of pumps, just for the occasion. Robert prepared dinner before the posing, and I drank quite a bit of wine. From the dining table I was facing into the parlor, and could see the wonderful sketch he had done previously.

"Oh, that's nothing," he said, "I just couldn't get it right. I tried to picture you through the fabric, but wasn't able to envision you fully. I wish you'd let me see you without clothes on."

"Oh, you know that's impossible!"

"Yes, but it is a wish of mine."

After another glass of wine, we decided to begin the evening's work. I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. As I stripped to my lingerie, I thought about Robert's desires, and in my state of insobriety, I decided that it wouldn't hurt to let him see all of me. I decided to take all of my clothing off. It took me quite awhile to complete my disrobing, as I was trembling in anticipation. I wanted so much to have this man, and only this man, appreciate my body. After awhile, I heard a soft knock on the door.

"Are you all right?" he queried.

"Yes," I said, nervously, "just let me know when you're prepared for me."

"I'm set up now. Just come out when you're ready."

After a few seconds, I opened the door and strode gingerly into the living room clad only in my high heels. When Robert viewed my dress, he only said, "Thank you," and then avoided leering at me.

"What would you like me to do?" I asked.

Robert asked me to sit on the couch with my legs stretch out, and arranged them so that my pubic area was fig leafed. As he was arranging my arm, so that my hand was cupping my breast, he accidentally brushed my tit, and his blush assured me that it wasn't on purpose.

I stayed in that position for nearly an hour. After 10 or 15 minutes the strangeness of the situation wore off, and we began talking of normal things; I told him a story about my sister's children, and he discussed his father. As he began to complete his work, I could see his piercing look study every facet of my body. I shivered, and told myself it was only the anticipation of seeing the finished work.

Finally, he left the room and came back with a thin dressing gown that, I was sure, had belonged to Alicia. Handing it to me, he turned his back allowing me to rise modestly and don the garment.

When I viewed the new sketch, I was as taken as I had been with his first effort. Although all of my erogenous zones were invisible, the high heels did give the drawing a great amatorial power. This was as sensuous an exposition as I'd ever seen.

Robert was trembling as he came behind me and gently touched my neck. I pulled his hands around me, allowing myself to be enclosed by his arms. Turning my face up, I kissed him greedily. I knew that I wanted him, and didn't care about morality. I drew his fingers to my breast, and allowed him access to my body.

We stumbled to the couch, and the dressing gown fell open, letting him view my nakedness. I didn't care, I wanted him to stare at me, to suckle my breasts with his eyes, to kiss my pubis with his sight. He fell on top of me, and we began to fondle each other.




Backgammon For Blood Ch. 02



His lips met my nipples, sending shock waves through my body. As he suckled, I began to unbutton his shirt and feel his chest. Before long, his torso was unclothed. His hands went down my body, toying with my navel and then further, dangerously close to my genitals but passing them until he was stroking my thighs. I continued to massage his chest and shoulders, and opened my legs allowing him passage to my privates.

But at the first touch of his fingertips on my vagina, a switch went off in my brain. He knew at once that the dynamics had changed, and stopped his advances.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"No, dear, I want you badly. I need you to stroke me and, yes, to make love to me. But I need more time to get used to the idea. I'm just not ready yet."

He sat up on the couch, and I sat beside him and gathered the fabric of the gown around me.

"I understand," he said, "adultery isn't something to be entered lightly. I'll wait until you're ready."

"What if I never am? What if I can never accept you as a lover?"

"Then we'll just have to live with the regret. I'm sure it will be easier than thinking that you've made a mistake with your husband."

I loved him all the more for his sensitivity. I leaned against him, and he put his arm around my shoulder, almost brotherly. We simply sat for a time, and then my passion for him became stronger again; we began, once more, to kiss. At first, it was chaste, but then became deeper, until our tongues were locked. I stroked his chest, and began pinching his nipple. In turn, he put his hand inside the gown and kneaded my bosom. It was obvious to both of us that I was allowing passion to overrule my mind again. But once again, a flood of guilt hit me and Robert immediately felt it.

Withdrawing his hand, he murmured, "Stop."

"I can't stand this," I cried, "I want you, but I don't."

"I know, I understand. You aren't ready for intercourse, but you need relief. May I propose an alternative?"

"Anything," I agreed.

"I'm not going to make love to you tonight. You can trust me not to attempt intercourse. You do trust me, don't you?" I nodded in agreement. "Then, if you're willing, I'm going to pleasure you. I'll simply make you feel good, if you desire me to. Do you want that?"

"Yes, please."

He rose from the couch, and raised me to my feet. Gently, he kissed me and then led me upstairs to his bedroom. Only a little light permeated the chamber through the window drapes.

Guiding me to the side of the bed, he drew the covers down, removed the frock from my shoulders and bade me lie down.

Moving to the other side, he asked if he could take off his trousers. I assented and he disrobed, leaving only his boxers on, before he lie down beside me. I turned on my side to face him.

Taking me once again into his embrace, we began to kiss. I needed to feel closer to him, and flattened my body into his. His erection was hot against my stomach. For a long while, we simply enjoyed the feel of our torsos pressed against each other.

He began to fondle me once again. This time, instead of using his finger tips to stimulate me, he touched me with the palm of his hand. Beginning with my neck, he stroked both of my arms, down one side of my body, past my hip, and all the way down to my foot which he gently massaged. Then up the inside of the leg, almost to the crotch but skipping over and feeling the other leg. After kneading the foot, back up the outside to the stomach, and finally he reached my breasts, which were aching to experience his feel.

Twitching a finger over my nipple, he suckled at the other one. The simple anticipation of this act almost brought me to orgasm, but, for some reason, I fought it off. Robert knew, however, that I was near release, and asked, "May I touch your vulva?"

"Yes, please," I whimpered.

His hand traveled to the nether region and a finger entered my canal. I knew how moist I was, and how easily his digit could access my inner parts. I felt him inside of me, and I could think of nothing but how much I wanted this man. I spent. While I was shuddering in pleasure, he continued to stimulate my nipple with his tongue, and my earlobe with his other hand.

As I calmed, I turned to him and began to passionately kiss him once again. A few minutes later, he turned me onto my stomach, and sitting astride of me began a deep massage of my shoulders, upper and lower back, and then down to my posterior. I was completely relaxed by this time, but then I felt his fingers go between my legs, and I knew that I wasn't yet satiated.

Feeling me respond, he turned me once again on my back and bent down for his first taste of my vaginal juices. First licking the outer lips, he then placed his tongue into me as deep as it would go. When he realized how ready I was, he brought his mouth to my clitoris and began to gnaw on it.

The first orgasm that Robert had given me was deep; this one was burning. I'm afraid I screamed in indulgence. Robert continued to stimulate me until he was sure I'd completed my climax.

Kneeling between my legs, he lowered himself until he was on top of me, and kissed my cheeks which were covered by tears of joy. I could feel his erection against my womanhood though the boxers, and I knew that I wanted this man inside of me. But I didn't say anything about it, and Robert didn't attempt any further advances. We dozed in each other's arms. Sometime after two o'clock, we began to arouse each other again, and I wanted him to enter me in our drowsiness.

But once he realized what was happening, he rose from the bed, went down to the first floor, retrieved my clothing and brought it up to me. Taking his garb into the bathroom, he suggested that I dress. "If you don't," he joked, "I might not be safe tonight."

After I was clothed, he escorted me to my auto, and waved me goodnight.

Robert telephoned me the next morning. "Did you sleep well?"

"Of course. But I'm afraid you didn't. I'm so sorry I wasn't ready to accept you.."

"That's fine.. I don't want you to do something you'll regret. You need a couple of days to think about it."

"Will you pick me up tonight?"

"Certainly."

The art class that evening featured a male nude. As I drew him, I thought about the man next to me, and how, although he'd made me come twice, I hadn't even seen his penis. When James saw my efforts, he remarked that I seemed distracted.

As Robert drove me home, he pulled into a large park. By this time it was dark, and he pulled over to the side of the road. I cuddled beside him and we began to make out. Nothing much, just kissing, and I opened my blouse so that Robert could feel my breasts inside of my bra.

"I want to thank you for last night, Robert. Not only did you give me what I wanted and needed, you kept me safe from myself."

"You know I want you, Kathy. I'd do almost anything to possess you, even for a few moments. But adultery's a large step, and I want you to be absolutely sure of what you're dozing. When the time is right, if it ever is, you'll know it, and then we'll be glad we waited."

Just then, headlights appeared, and a police officer asked us to move along. When we arrived at my house, I invited Robert in. I wondered if tonight I might feel differently, but I doubted it.

I didn't get a chance to find out, because Robert declined the invitation. "I hate to tell you this, but I need to go on a trip to a jewelry show. I won't be back until next Wednesday. I need to finish packing, and, as you know, I didn't get too much sleep last night. I should leave." With that, and a couple of kisses, he departed.

When Phil got home on Friday night, he was ready to go, but I pushed him away. I was completely confused as to which man I really wanted. The worse part of it was that I couldn't even talk to Phil about it or ask him for advice.

On Saturday evening, we went to a movie with another couple. It was a sex comedy, and one of the men in the flick committed adultery, and got into all sorts of trouble because of it. Afterwards, we went for drinks, and the guys started 'analyzing' the movie. The other woman said that she didn't approve of sex outside of marriage, and that the adulterer just got what was coming to him. The guys told her to lighten up, there was nothing to be concerned about.

When we got back to the house, I asked Phil "Did you mean what you said at the bar?"

"About what?"

"Adultery. You said that it wasn't anything to be concerned about. Did you mean that, or were you just making it up?" I could see that my questions were shaking him. "Don't worry if I'll be mad about it, I just want to know what you really think."

"I don't know," he said. "I know society says it's wrong, but if no one gets hurt, I'm not sure it's that bad."

"So you could go and have an affair and there wouldn't be any problem?"

"Well, that's sort of simplistic. If it led to a divorce between us, or something like that, sure it would be terrible. But if you knew I still loved you, I think we could get past it. I certainly wouldn't have sex with another woman if it would hurt you in any way."

"And if I had an affair? What would you feel then?"

He seemed a little distraught at that question. "Well, Kathy, I guess if you still loved me, it wouldn't be a problem."

I kissed him and said, "If you ever do have an affair, don't worry about it. I'll still love you. I just hope that you'll give me the same courtesy."

I know Phil wanted to have sex, but I wasn't ready for it yet. I told him I wasn't sleepy, and went downstairs and picked up a Heinlein novel, Time Enough For Love. Searching through the well worn book (it's one of my favorites,) I finally found the poignant passage:

The more you love, the more you can love - and the more intensely you love. Nor is there any limit on how many you can love. If a person had time enough, he could love all of that majority who are decent and just.

I departed the house to take a walk through the night air, and thought. I wanted Robert. But I loved Phil. Did I 'love' Robert, too? If I did, would my love for Phil be any less? I finally decided that I could love two men at once; in fact, I already did. I went to the bedroom, undressed, and crawled into the bed beside my sleeping husband. I gently woke him, and we made love.

At the art class on Tuesday evening there was a female subject which I drew from the rear. I let my mind fantasize that she were in love with two men. James complimented my drawings that night.

Robert called me when he arrived on Wednesday, and wanted me to come over to dinner that evening. As I entered the house, I kissed him deeply. Over dinner we talked about his trip and the art class of the previous night. I helped him with the dishes, and then asked, "Have you had enough of me, or would you like to draw me again?"

"I'd love to."

"I have a request. Tonight, I want your picture be as erotic as possible." His excited face assured me that he would.

Robert went to the closet and began to get his art supplies. I'm sure he expected me to disrobe in the powder room, but instead I followed him into the living room and began to unbutton my blouse. When he saw what I was doing, Robert looked away, but I said to him, "My love, please, enjoy me with your eyes. After you complete your art tonight, everything will be yours." He watched me as I removed first my blouse and then my skirt. I reached behind my back to unlatch my bra, and watched his eyes as I revealed my breasts to his sight. Finally, I slipped my panties down, leaving me dressed only in my high heels and wedding band. "How would you like me to pose?"

He asked me to lie on my back on the sofa, and placed my left arm behind my head. My left leg was bent and supported by the cushion, and he had me place my right foot on the floor. As he was arranging me, I grabbed his hand and led it to my vagina, so that he could feel how ready I was for him.

He bent down and we kissed as he put his finger inside of me. I unbuttoned his shirt and took it off of him. Then I unzipped his pants, and pulled all of his clothes off. In this position, my eyes were just a few inches from his genitals, and I was finally able to view my desire. I fondled his scrotum, and then began to lick the long penis.

"Not yet," he moaned, "I want to draw you like this so I'll always remember it..."

He set up the easel at the foot of the couch, and I resumed my position so that my slit was entirely exposed to my love.

As he sketched me, I knew what he was thinking because his erection never softened. Furiously he penciled, looking at me with hungry eyes.

In just a few moments, he turned the paper so that I could see it, I viewed the beginnings of a powerful erotic piece of art.

"I can't go on," Robert spoke. "My emotions have the best of me."

"Come to me, my love," I whispered. He began to kneel beside the couch, but I pulled him on top of me. In this position his exposed penis was only a few inches from my vagina, and I encouraged him. "Now, yes, come into me. This is what you want. Take me." 

It was only a few strokes before I knew he was exploding inside of me. I hadn't had time to prepare for an orgasm of my own, but I didn't care. This was his moment, and I knew he needed the release. After he was done, he began to kiss my face and lips, and I stretched my legs around him to keep him inside of me. For fifteen minutes or more we stayed in each other's arms, and then I began to feel him stiffening inside of me. I encouraged him to begin rocking back and forth, and his tool began massaging my vagina. As he continued to pump, varying the intensity and direction, I became excited until I finally was able to release. The climax was long and burning and I knew I was making quite a bit of noise. After what seemed to be hours of peaking, I finally felt another flood of his semen entering my tunnel.

We continued to lay there, fondling each other until he finally slipped from me with a plop. "Oh, dear," he joked, "I think I'm going to have to have the upholstery cleaned." Getting up, I examined the sketch once again. It was little more than the outline at this point.

"Do you want to complete it now?"

"No, it will keep. Right now, I'd like to go to bed with you. Will you stay here tonight?"

"Of course, if that's what will make you happy."

We went upstairs, and continued to make love. After the months that he'd gone without a woman, and the erotic setting, he was stiff again in less than a half hour. This time I climbed on top of him and let him behold me as I screwed him. Once again we climaxed, and then fell asleep in each other's arms.

In the predawn hours I awoke to find the bed empty. Finding the frock Robert had lent me the previous night, I descended the staircase to find Robert working on the portrait.

"Do you need me to model for you again?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful."

I took the dressing gown off and resumed the pose.

As Robert worked, he asked me when I had decided to culminate our relationship. I explained the Heinlein quote to him, and told him that I loved him, nearly as much as I loved Phil. I reasoned that Eros needed to be expressed physically as well as mentally.

I could see that the work was having an aphrodisiac effect on him. Finally he finished, and turned the sketch pad for my sight. Completed, it was as erotic as I'd hoped it would be, and I motioned for Robert to come to me again. Once again he knelt between my legs and we were lovers.

I returned the following evening, and we made love again. Robert asked me if I could come to him over the weekend, but I explained that Phil would be coming home. Robert seemed disappointed, but understanding.

When Phil entered the door on Friday night, I wondered if he could tell that I was an adulteress. I didn't feel guilty; if fact I was proud that I could satisfy two men that I loved. I pulled him into bed, and became wild fantasizing my two Cupids.

The next three months were one of the high points of my life. I'd spend the weekends with my husband, and then visit my lover three or four times a week, often sleeping with him and allowing him to draw me in sensuous poses. I didn't feel guilty about my adultery any longer, but when I began having to make up little lies to explain my absences from the house to Phil, my conscience began to bother me.

Robert continued to ask me to pose for him, and I was pleased to accommodate him. He rarely drew my face, and I found out that he wanted to make his art more mysterious, and that he didn't think he was good at the face. We did find out, though, that the more erotic the pose and resultant picture, the more intense our lovemaking was afterwards. We began to understand the power of the paintings in the smoking room in Robert's clubs, and snuck up there more and more. Once, Robert even made quick love to me in that room after nearly everyone else had left.

I wish it had lasted, but it didn't. Robert began to make comments about Phil, and was more insistent about my weekend patterns. I managed to sneak over to Robert's home once or twice when Phil was running errands, but that didn't satisfy him.

Robert invited me to go with him to New York City over a long weekend, and I was able to make up an alibi for Phil so that I could travel. Robert had arranged for a beautiful penthouse hotel room. After we returned from the art galleries on our last evening in the City, Robert asked me to pose with the open windows behind me so that he could draw the skyscrapers in the background. Even though I was sure people in surrounding high rises were able to see me, I allowed him this whim. After the piece of art was completed (and it was as erotic as any Robert had done of me,) Robert came over and knelt beside me.

"Kathy, my love, I want you to be my wife." And he handed me an engagement ring.

"I can't, Robert. You know that. Phil is my husband, and I love him. Please don't ask this of me."

This began our first, and last, argument. Robert was incensed that I was planning on staying with Phil, and after hours of discussion, we fell into bed together, but didn't make love.

Robert was cold to me as we flew home, and drove me home in silence. I attempted to make him feel that he was important to me (he was!) but he apparently had determined that it was an all or nothing situation.

I phoned his house a few times the next week, only to be answered by the machine. When Robert hadn't returned my calls by the next weekend, I figured what we had was over, and I was morose. Surprisingly, Phil didn't ask what was wrong, but was quite sweet to me that weekend. It was just what I needed.

Two weeks later, Robert finally contacted me. He wanted to take me to dinner, and I let him. Nothing was said about the tiff, and I let him drive me to his house after the meal and we once again had fervent sex. I was happy to have my lover back again, and visited him four times over the next week and a half.

One night, as we were naked on the bed together after our passion, he said, "Kathy, I need you desperately. Will you reconsider your decision?"

"No, Robert, and you have to stop asking me. I love you, and I need you too. But I also love and need Phil, and I made a vow that I would be with him for the rest of my life. I don't believe that I've done anything to this point that has hurt him, and I certainly don't feel guilty about our relationship. But I will remain married to him."

"I was afraid you'd say that, but I had to bring it into the open. I'm afraid my heart will break again, but our relationship needs to end."

I cried at that, and so did he, and the night ended with lovemaking between us for the last time.

As a parting present, Robert gave me a few of the drawings he'd done of me, and a copy of the first erotic sketch he'd done. We kept in touch for a few weeks, but I heard that he'd found another girl, and his phone calls stopped coming.




Backgammon For Blood Ch. 02



A couple of months later, Phil's assignment ended and he got a job back at home. I found it strange to have the same man in my bed every night, and began to worry that Phil might find out about Robert. Finally, I realized that part of love is being truthful.

One evening, I took Phil to an intimate restaurant. Over dinner, I said, "Phil, we have a bit of a situation here, and need to have an honest talk." I could see him flush, and wondered if he already knew. I just continued on, "While you were gone, I had an affair. It's over now, but while it was going on, I loved him, just as I still love you. I hope you can forgive me."

Phil just stammered, "Of course I can forgive you, and I need to confess that I had a mistress. She meant quite a bit to me, but not as much as you do. I'm still very much in love with you."

That evening ended with furious sex. The only surprise is that Phil wanted to know every detail about my affair. I didn't mind telling him, it just excites him. On his next birthday, I gave him the copy of one of the pictures that Robert had done of me. It turned out to be one of the best presents he'd ever received. Phil hung it inside the credenza in his home office, and I have to make sure the door is closed whenever guests come over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've taken a few more art classes, and begun a small studio. I occasionally display my works at local craft shows, and even include a few nudes, which seem to sell the best.

Once I was invited to a cocktail party at Robert's club, and I snuck up to the smoking room to see that wonderful etching again. I was surprised to see the first nude portrait that Robert had done of me prominently displayed. I didn't mind; In fact, I'm flattered. I just hope that Robert doesn't sit in the room viewing the art, and mourn his loss.

If I find another man that I fall in love with, our romance will start much sooner. And when Phil begins wooing someone else, I won't mind because I know he loves me and would never hurt me. And I love him.

And Robert, too.



Backgammon For Blood Ch. 03



This is the third installment of the Backgammon For Blood Series. Although this can be read by itself, it might provide background for you if you read the first two stories, particularly Kathy's Portrait, before you read this one.

This is a somewhat strange story, and I can only say that it makes sense to me. I hope it does to you, my reader, as well. For those of you who hate the idea of cuckoldry, you may wish to pass this story by. If you choose to leave me one of your pithy comments, understand that they usually give me a good laugh - keep them coming.

This story reflects the mythology of paganism as it exists in the early twenty-first century, and does not purport to be factual about the subject. If any Celts, pagans or other subscribers to that religion are offended, I offer my sincere apologies.



The Yuletide Offering

copyright © Adam Gunn



Flitting down a San Francisco street, Kathy enjoyed the brightly lit holiday displays in the shop windows, the sounds of Christmas humming through the after work crowd, and the glint of the large tree in Union Square. All this brought to her mind the question she'd been asking herself for weeks: what should she get her husband for Christmas? Only four days left to figure it out. Like most men, Phil already had everything he needed, and when asked directly, he professed that there was nothing he really wanted. After sixteen years of living with him, she should know him better than this, shouldn't she?

Caught by a Celtic-inspired picture in the window of an art gallery, she peered at it not quite knowing why it attracted her. "This is silly," she thought. She'd been having impulses like this since the start of November, mesmerized by anything of ancient ilk. She wasn't Irish, nor was Phil. In a store back in Pittsburgh, she'd picked up a new-age harp CD on the spur of the moment. Although she normally didn't care for that type of music, she hadn't been able to take it out of her car player. And then there were the dreams, the ones about being ravaged by a prince on a hillside above rocky ocean cliffs; it frustrated her that she always woke before the vision was completed. Strangely, she felt all of this was somehow connected with her unreasonable need to come to San Francisco. Three weeks prior, she'd seen an advertisement for the city in a magazine, and impulsively called her travel agent. Her business partner was angry with her, concerned she was leaving the store in the midst of the Holiday rush period. Phil was miffed too. "If you need to take a few days off, fine. But why right before Christmas? Besides, on this schedule, you'd only be gone three days. Why don't you go after Christmas, when you can stay longer?" Finally, she insisted that no matter what, she was going, and he'd grumpily driven her to the airport on Thursday morning. "Kathy," she thought, "you've got to get it together!"

Even though it was only five o'clock, the gloom was already gathering in the downtown streets. "It gets dark so early this time of year," she thought. "Isn't tomorrow going to be the shortest day of the year?"

She stepped through the door and professionally appraised the store. It was more polished than her shop; of course, the clientele out here was more sophisticated. A short balding gnome was working with a patron, but he nodded to her. "Please, feel free to browse. I'll be with you in a moment." Kathy made her way back into a second room, drawn to four lithographs of a somewhat familiar style. Could it be him? Although she hadn't seen him or his work in years, these were reminiscent. Yes, there was his name on the plate below the lithographs, "Robert Wallace." Stepping back, she critiqued the erotic illustrations. It seemed he now depended on a complex background to bring out the personality of the model, and the drawings weren't as pornographic as his beginning work in the field eight years ago. Only one of the girls had exposed genitals, and even in that, the hairs on the mound were subdued when compared to the stockinged legs and musical props. Robert had tinted the work subtly, the lines were sharp, and the trademark pencil and ink genesis of the art was still evident.

The dwarf of a salesman converged upon her, sniffing a commission. "This is one of our most popular artists," he panted. "Quite a background. He went to school at..."

Kathy cut him off. She was used to the patter, having used it herself many a time. Besides, she knew the truth. "Yes, I know. I'm a classmate of his." She could have added more, much more, but it really wasn't any of his business.

"Oh, you were with him back east? Well, we're happy to have him out here, that's for sure."

"Is he in San Francisco?" An affirmative. He continued with his sales pitch, telling her that The Dominatrix was one of the most popular items in the store, and that the Tommy gallery was glad to have an exclusive on it. Only a few copies were left. The store only displayed a portion of the available work, the less graphic pieces, but if she was interested there was a catalogue.

"Well, listen, I'd like to say hello to Robert while I'm out here. You don't happen to have his telephone number, do you?"

"Oh, we can't give it out. Surely you understand. But, I'd be happy to get a message to him, if you'd like."

She produced one of her business cards and scribbled "Allison Hotel" on the back. "Just tell him to call me there, please."

After more shopping in Maiden Lane, dinner, and a play, Kathy was tired - the long flight out the day before and the sightseeing had taken its toll. She returned to the downtown hotel and readied herself for sleep. Just starting to relax, the phone rang.

"Kathy?"

"Robert! It's so good to hear your voice."

"And you, too. What are you doing in San Francisco?"

"Oh, I've never really seen California, and I just came to knock around for a long weekend. I just arrived today, and I've got a flight back late Monday night."

"Wonderful. Listen, can we get together?"

They agreed to meet in a North Beach café the next night. After chatting a little longer, they hung up with cries of, "Oh, I can't wait."

Lying in bed, she wondered what Phil would think if he knew she was going to have dinner with her comrade. Then she knew what he'd think - he'd wonder if she were planning on having a good time in the sack with him!

Years ago, Kathy had met Robert in art classes when her husband was on the road. They'd fallen for each other immediately, but Kathy resisted his advances until the night she finally posed completely nude for him. For months modeling sessions acted as foreplay for intense sex. She had loved Robert, and she felt he loved her, but in the end he'd wanted her to divorce her husband to marry him, and Kathy, forced to make a decision, chose to stay with Phil. After the affair was over, the only one she'd ever been in, she confessed to Phil, expecting the worst, hoping she would be able to heal the wounds she expected to open. Instead, he was forgiving, brought on, no doubt, by the fact that he'd been involved with another woman at the same time.

A rather surprising attitude resulted, though. Phil wanted her to tell him all of the details, including trivia about where and how they'd made love, the positions they'd used, everything. He seemed amazed at how she'd allowed her naked body to be used on both canvas and mattress. At first Kathy resisted, embarrassed and desiring privacy, but then she relented and began to regale him with the minutiae. Since then, he'd heard the stories over and over again, and he absolutely adored a lewd picture of Kathy that Robert gave her as a memento. They occasionally talked of having more affairs, but Kathy never found anyone she was interested in. Still it continued to be a fantasy of his, and he encouraged her to wander. The night before she came out, at his prodding she made up a story about finding a guy in a hotel bar, and what he would do to her. As usual, Phil wound up playing the part of the stranger.

Hey, that was it! She knew what she'd get him for Christmas! She'd wheedle Robert into parting with one of those pictures of her he'd drawn so many years ago. The new works she'd seen were so much more advanced. Surely he didn't need those old things anymore. And Phil would love it.

The next evening Kathy followed the directions Robert provided and walked to the cable car. Clambering into a seat on the inside, she asked the conductor to let her know when they approached Union Street and Mason. As the car climbed Nob Hill, she eavesdropped on some businessmen and was charmed by their discussions regarding Holiday plans, what they were purchasing for their wives, where they would spend Christmas Eve. The bell clanged jauntily as they descended towards Fisherman's Wharf, and soon the conductor clamored, "Union Street! Don't miss a beat!"

Departing the car, she spied the towers of Saints Peter and Paul church and strolled toward them. Two blocks later she turned right onto Columbus, and there was Michelangelo's, reputed (or so Robert said) to be the best family restaurant in North Beach. And there he was, sitting halfway back in the crowed bistro. "God, he's gotten older," Kathy thought as he stood to greet her, "his hair is completely gray!" A kiss on the cheek and an abbreviated embrace seemed a bit odd; the last time she'd seen him, they'd lain naked in bed together.

"Oh, you look wonderful," Robert gushed, "Turn around so I can get a good look at you. You haven't put on a pound, have you? It's so good to see you!" The nearby diners smiled at them, remembering the many times they'd met old friends.

A carafe of wine was ordered, and the lass brought ceramic mugs to quaff as they began to catch up with each other. Kathy let Robert go first.

Soon after they'd broken up, a large retail chain made him an offer for his jewelry stores that he couldn't refuse, so he didn't. At loose ends, he audited classes at the Columbia University School of Visual Arts in New York City for a year, and had been lucky to find a mentor that honed his interest in nudes. A friend encouraged him to come out to the Bay Area where the living was good and the models were beautiful. Over three years ago he'd made the move, and it was fantastic. Everything you wanted - a great art scene, theatre, wine, fantastic people. She should come out next year for Halloween in the Castro. No, he wasn't married, but he'd lived for two years with one of his models. She moved out four months ago when she finally figured she wasn't going to get a proposal or any of Robert's money, and headed for L.A. It's okay, it'd never been that serious for him.

As he related his recent history to her, she remembered what she'd discovered in this man, his caring, sensitivity and, yes, beauty. The sadness in his face he'd displayed during their courtship, a result first of the death of his wife and then the knowledge that she would never be his second wife, was gone now. It was so good to see him cheerful and at peace with the world. And yes, he was still very attractive, even if he had put on a little weight.

Then, over the best Ravioli Bolognese she'd ever imbibed, she told him of how she'd made a few contacts in the art scene and opened a gallery, how Phil was doing well in his job. Yes, she'd told him about their affair, and they'd gotten through it.

"Oh, that reminds me," Kathy smiled as the coffee was served, "One night Phil and I were invited to your club, and I snuck him up to the smoking room to see the wall of nudes." She enjoyed his chagrin. "You could have told me you were going to put my vagina up there for all the world to see."

"I guess I should have asked your permission, shouldn't I? But your face wasn't on it, there was no way anyone could have recognized you, and, well, we weren't on very good terms at the time, if you remember. If it's any consolation, the guys still think it's the best in the room."

"Oh, I'm not angry. Phil rather enjoyed it, as he does the other pieces you gave me. Which brings me to a request. Could I have one more of those old drawings for Phil? I need a Christmas present for him."

"Oh, I'd love to, Kathy, but they're all gone. They were stored in a warehouse while I was in New York, and the thing went up like a matchbox. My agent's still in mourning over it, he thinks that early crud would bring in a fortune now. But I've got a few lithographs at my apartment I'd be happy to gift you with. Why don't you come up and take a look at them?"

"...Said the spider to the fly. Isn't it supposed to be 'engravings', not 'lithographs?'" She observed his face as he chuckled at the jest. "Okay, I'll put myself at your mercy. Lead me to my doom," she joked.

The bill was presented, the credit card imprinted, and they found themselves out in the briskness of a San Francisco evening. "Normally I walk back to my place from here, only six blocks, but it's straight up Russian Hill. We can take a taxi if you like." 

"No, I'm up for a little exercise. I like being sweaty. Perhaps you remember?" Once again she'd scored, and the crimson rose to his neck. As they began the steep climb, she placed her arm in his. They discussed the less intimate details of their months together, and Kathy told him how she missed him in her life, how she'd thought about him often, how distressed she was when the Christmas card came back stamped, "no such recipient." As the slope of the sidewalk increased, Robert placed his arm around her back, offering her support in walking, and an intimacy she'd almost forgotten. For his part, he related how he'd been wrong, that now he realized his previous insistence on exclusivity was silly, how he'd wished many times he could return to the rapture he'd known in those days.

"I often thought of calling you when I make my trips back to Pittsburgh, you know."

"Why didn't you? Or at least drop me a note?"

"I don't know. I guess I figured you'd be angry at me."

"Oh, never. Not at you." And she paused at the top of the hill to stroke his cheek affectionately.

Entering an apartment building and taking the elevator to the eighth floor, Robert opened the portal. Kathy stepped in and observed the artist's lair. A large living room leading into a dining room, more of a conversation arena actually, and the small kitchen. Pine floors covered with soft beige carpeting, ivory paint, smoke furniture. Color in the rooms was supplied only by the many eclectic pieces of art standing or hanging on the walls. Only one piece of Robert's own making was displayed, a large lithograph of a blond clothed in a negligee kneeling on a bed. The piece was tipped in orchid.

"Your work is gorgeous, Robert. The model is quite beautiful."

"Yes, she was, wasn't she? It made up for the avarice, I think."

"Oh, is that your girlfriend?"

"Do you approve?"

"Of course. She seems very young, though." And exciting, she thought, wondering if the model was any good in bed.

The apartment was decorated for the holidays by the inclusion of two symbols in opposite corners of the living room. First, on the left was a Christmas tree, festooned with traditional ornaments and a book of carols.

Opposite was a small ceramic tree with a few bronze leaves and a number of plaques hanging from the branches. Each of the moldings sported a strange marking. Upon closer examination, Kathy found that her inner emotions were being mysteriously stirred. "A friend of mine constructed that for me," Robert explained. "It's a Winter Solstice bough. Those are, according to him, Druid symbols. He fancies himself to be a pagan. Enya goes particularly well with it, I think," and he placed one of her CDs into the stereo.

Kathy stepped to the edge of the room, and gazed through a large window that offered the dazzling lights of San Francisco from downtown skyscrapers and the Bay Bridge to the luminescence of Coit Tower, with the twinkles of Treasure Island and the hills of the East Bay sparkling in the distance. Suddenly, the lights in the apartment winked out, leaving her in darkness. "The view's more impressive this way, I think," Robert observed, coming to stand beside her.

Something in the evening, the first one of winter, possessed them. Possibly the crispness of the scene below impacted them, or maybe it was only base instinct, but perhaps, just perhaps, the magic of the Celtic emblems and music unfettered their desire. Kathy flowed to him, offering her lips in sacrifice. Robert clasped the offering, placing his mouth gently upon hers, capturing her in his embrace, tethering her with the chains of fervor.

As they came together, Kathy's mind was suddenly overtaken by the image of her dream, and suddenly she seemed to be transported from the western apartment to a medieval forest. Above, tall trees shielded her from the open sky, and the wall of the apartment building morphed into a cliff above the pounding ocean. The clothes the couple were wearing transformed from the stylish frock and modern suit to medieval raiment suitable for royalty. She was, she suddenly knew, in the presence of the primeval gods.

Kathy recalled joyfully how Robert once attended to her as a goddess, and once again prepared for the ministrations of the sorcerer. Submissively allowing herself to be led to the altar, she did not resist as her shaman ritually disrobed her, casting off the tunic, allowing him to worship the orbs. The kirtle and underlinen were removed, exposing to the enchanter the object of his adoration. Genuflecting before the crevice, he paid homage to her feminine center with his tongue. The postulant gasped as he worshiped it, willingly accepting the intercession, muttering chants of thankfulness, until Taranus, the thunder god, visited her.

When Taranus departed, placated yet anxious to return, the succubus bade her conjuror to lean away. As he knelt before her in oblation, she assisted him in doffing his jerkin and breeches. At last they reached the ancient and required garb of the incantation, and they made ready to consummate the mystery. With prayers of gratefulness, the sacristan mounted the temple of his ardor, plunging his stave within the holy cauldron wherein it belonged. To the rhythm of Pax Decorum pulsating from the minstrel, the priest and priestess culminated the rite, joining and parting still again, placating the gods by sustaining the ritual fire, mystically journeying to the long past and distant land of obsession. Unable to resist any longer, the necromancer spewed his detritus into the sprite in ultimate exertion as she howled with savage rage. Appeased in the conciliation with Brigit, the goddess of fertility, yet not willing to part from each other, the worshippers cooled to the strains of Athair Ar Neamh. Only when the electronic muse concluded the aria did Danu, the mother of all gods, allow her to recognize that she had returned from the pilgrimage, and was, once again, in the San Francisco of the twenty-first century.

"That was so strange," she observed. "Did you feel it, too?"

"Of course, I did, Kathy. I've longed for you since the last time we parted." Apparently, he had not shared this vision of hers; already she doubted the veracity of the visage.

They sat on the couch and the one who had once been his lover, and was again, nuzzled against him. "It's been a long time," she observed.

"I'd forgotten how wonderful it is with you." They stroked each other for some time until the chill of the realm outside the casement seeped into their bones. As Kathy shivered, Robert queried, "Do you want to get dressed?"

"If you have a robe, or perhaps a throw, I'd rather use that."

"You don't have to leave?"

"Not till Monday, dearest. Not unless you want me to."

"Then stay with me. Please, please, stay here."

Instead of costuming, they retired to the snuggery and buried themselves in the cave of the bed, hibernating until glowing cravings woke them before the dawn. Kathy roused from slumber to an intense feeling of pleasure on her breasts. Realizing it was the hand of her paramour, she turned to face him and began ministering to him. Throwing the comforter aside, she placed her face at his groin and licked and nibbled his manhood to life. In a short time he'd achieved the optimum erection, and she adroitly took the staff into her mouth, teasing the underside with her tongue, encouraging his discharge with her fingers. He responded by expending into her mouth, filling her with quivers of the fluid of love, until there was no more to release.




Backgammon For Blood Ch. 03



Knowing that he was satisfied, Kathy returned to lie beside him and sheltered him once more from cold. He didn't forget the woman. First he held her breasts and suckled them until the aureoles crinkled in anticipation, and then his hand moved down to her belly, and further yet to the thick curls of her pubic hair, pulling at them, toying with them until finally he migrated to the spot between her legs, massaging her lips to readiness, gently rubbing her clitoris until she reached the state of excitement, and then reaching into the womb, searching for the G-spot that he'd known so well, tickling it until excitation besieged her with shrieks of delight. Still he refused to stop, his face traveling to the nether region, licking and sucking on her button as she rocked in orgasm. Only when she was satiated did he return to her side where they whispered together.

"So you have to leave Monday?" A cloud of concern crossed his face. She grew frightened, worried that perhaps he would attempt once more to steal her away from the husband.

"Yes. You know I have to return. I could never leave Phil."

"Of course," he smiled. "Dear, I'm over that, have been for years. No, that's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

"Well, I'm sorry I can't give Phil one of my old portraits of you. But if you like, I can give him a new one. You're willing to pose? I was just considering how to compose the setting, that's all."

He delivered to her a breakfast in bed, bagels, berries and tea, then he fiddled awhile, setting up his easel and artist's box in the living room. He requested that she lie in front of the Christmas tree in her bra and panties, and he began to sketch. As it had always been before, after hours of concentration on her body he became aroused and they made love on the carpet, he on top of her, squirming in the throes of amour until they both were satisfied.

"Robert, you're so damn good at that."

"Thank you madam, and I return the compliment."

"I wonder, when you're with other models, do you.. ."

"No, never. A few times with Jennifer, I forced myself for her sake, but I seem to associate intercourse and art only when you are around."

He escorted her to the hotel while she picked up her suitcases, and then they journeyed to Pacific Heights and a lingerie shop. He explained that his public didn't often appreciate total nudes, and a Holiday portrait would have to be even more conservative. After examining a number of outfits, he purchased for her an ebony ensemble of lace bodice, thong, sleeves and stockings. Back to Russian Hill where Kathy donned the costume and they returned to their work. Midway through the afternoon, Robert asked if she'd mind if he invited a friend to dinner. "Douglas is an artist, a very strange fellow. He thinks he's descended from a Celtic priest, and it's gone to his head. He's the one who created the pagan totem. When I first came to the City, I confided in him, and I know he'd like to meet you."

"Of course not." He picked up the telephone, and Kathy could easily hear his side of the conversation.

"Douglas! Hello, it's Robert .. . Listen, are you doing anything tonight? .. . Good, let's meet at Julius' Castle at eight, say? I've got a bit of a surprise for you.. . Oh, I'm not telling. Let me be the magician this one time, you've got too much practice at it.. .. All right, see you then."

When night fell, Kathy found herself in a taxi bound for the backside of Telegraph Hill. Below Coit Tower they crossed into the inn and Robert greeted a gentleman, conservatively dressed in a navy suit and tartan tie. The white beard and pipe peeping from the suit pocket put in mind the image of a Scottish college professor. Before she could be introduced, Douglas gazed at her and pronounced, "Greetings, Princess Kathy."

She was astounded. Immediately, she recognized that this man knew the most intimate workings of her mind. "How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you. I've been waiting for you, you know. Oh, there was never any doubt you'd come." Over a dinner of abalone and chardonnay he explained. "I'm so glad you answered, Kathy. You see, last summer, I came to realize that Robert now needs you in his life."

"I never told you that," Robert protested.

"Years ago, Robert, you related how you felt about Kathy. I immediately knew that she was your only remaining soul mate, your princess."

"This old loon thinks I'm descended from royalty," scoffed Robert.

"And so you are. Witness your name! But I also suspected that, for some reason, you were not prepared to restore your claim on her. When Jennifer left you, I read from your spirit that the time of reunion was nearing. Kathy, I conjured an image of you, and saw that you were also missing Robert."

"That's true."

"I also suspect that you are descended from nobility, and so I granted you a geas. The fact that you responded to it verifies your lineage."

"What did you give me?"

"A geas. A mystical curse, or perhaps gift if you prefer. In order to satisfy it, you must meet and love Robert once each year. I knew I could not find you without Robert's help, and since I was prohibited from alerting him to the casting, it was required that I make it as powerful as possible so you might respond. Yesterday was the Winter Solstice. You met Robert then, did you not?"

"Oh, come off it, Douglas," Robert smirked. "You're going to scare her with these Halloween stories."

Kathy was confused. Could there be something to all this mysticism? "But, Douglas, I've had strange images and feelings for a couple of months now. Do they have anything to do with this geas?"

"Certainly they do, Princess. The new year begins on November First, the day of the dead, what Christians celebrate as All Soul's Day. That was the exact day I granted you the boon. Since then, you have been in preparation. Tell me, how did you find the Prince?"

Kathy told of how she'd been drawn first to San Francisco, and then into the downtown store where she'd seen Robert's art, and how she'd been helped by the salesman.

"That's typical. Wanderers usually meet oracles without realizing it. Never do seers sit at the top of a cliff, waiting for pilgrims. At any rate, I can see that you are both very happy, and I'm glad for you." Douglas continued to spout about Druidism, and Robert gently poked fun at him. It turned out to be a most entertaining evening, and Douglas recommended a few books on the subject that might interest Kathy. As he took his leave of the dyad, Douglas embraced Kathy, and then, holding to Robert's palm in a handshake, he canted, "Prince Robert, I must warn you. Princess Kathy is not free to devote herself to you. You must allow her to be about her work, satisfied that you will not be strangers. To disregard this decree would be disastrous for both of you. I adjure you, take care."

That night, reclining with her consort, the vision returned unto Kathy. This time, however, instead of ravishing her, the prince led her to a castle where she lodged upon a throne adorned with garlands of vernal blossoms. The prince, of course, was revealed as Robert, and Douglas attended them. Persisting in a vigil, the gods hailed them benevolently.

On the night of parting, Robert photographed the damsel in various poses, thinking that perhaps he could use them to create a few more pieces. "You'll be a fit replacement for Jennifer," he joked, waving at the lithograph of the buxom blond. The exercise flamed the pair, and they shared their bodies once more before the flight schedule required departure. Robert delivered Kathy to security at SFO without remorse and a "see you again, soon, I hope. Remember Douglas' silly geas."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the morning of the Christian's Nativity eve, Phil picked Kathy up at the airport, and as they were waiting for her luggage to appear, he fondled her. When she responded, he asked, "So, did you have a good time in San Francisco?"

"It was fantastic."

"Did you meet any guys?"

"Oh a few. Some of them were gay. It was San Francisco, after all."

"Any straight ones?"

"There's always one in the crowd, isn't there?"

"And????"

"And what?"

"Well, I mean, did you .. ."

"You wish," she evaded.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Early on December 25th, Kathy rose early, donned the lingerie she'd worn during the sitting in Robert's apartment, and stretched herself under the tree. Next to her were two gift-wrapped packages. One held an album, Enya's The Memories of Trees, and the other contained a portrait inscribed "With Great Love to Phil and Kathy, Robert."

Picking up a cell phone, she telephoned her own home number and waited for her husband. When he sleepily answered, she breathed, "Phil? Are you awake? Good. Listen, come downstairs. I can't wait to tell you how you got your Christmas present.



Backgammon for Blood



Susan poured the remaining wine from the bottle into our two glasses, and then stood up. "Would you like me to remove my panties," she said, "or would you like the honors?" I climbed up from the floor and sat down on the couch behind me. I told her I'd be happy if she made the presentation, and motioned her to sit next to me. She rose in front of me, and then slowly stripped her beautiful red lace undies from her body. I could clearly see her light brown pussy hair, which had been freshly shaven until just a small triangle remained, and the protruding lips of her vagina between her thighs. Then she did sit down, but on my lap, sideways.

Taking my hand, she guided it between her spread legs and began to kiss and caress me. My hand found it's way to the dripping snatch and began to rub her enlarged clitoris. My mouth found her nipple, and I suckled. After a few moments, she moaned and said, "Inside, please." Putting my middle finger into her soaked snatch, I could feel how tight her pussy muscles were. After just a few moments, I could feel the muscles retracting even tighter, and then she began gasping for breath and moaning, "Yes! Yes! Yes!'

Finally she relaxed, and taking my hand that had caused her pleasure, she began sucking on my middle finger. After she had thoroughly cleaned it, she climbed off my lap and knelt in front of me. "If you want me to do anything, just let me know. After all, you're the winner."

"You're doing just fine, so far." Then, beginning at my neck, she sensually began licking my body in soft, short strokes. Down both arms, sucking all of my fingers, and back to my neck. Down my chest, lingering at both nipples and sucking them until my cock was rock hard. Down to my belly button, which got a special treatment from her tongue. She licked the top of my briefs, barely avoiding contact with my love tool. Then onto my right thigh and between my legs, licking to the very edge of my underwear near the testicles, which she brushed with her cheek. Then down my leg until she teasingly bit the soles of my foot and sucking on my toes. A similar treatment for my other leg and foot. Back up, and then she nibbled at my too-hard cock through my briefs.

"You know," she said, "we really should play one more game, so that I can take these off you legally." After hearing my agonized moan, she giggled and began to strip my briefs off. "Oh, good," she exclaimed, "I was right. You really do have long toes!" Then she took my testicles in one hand and began to lovingly lick and suck them. The other hand rose to my cock, and gently caressed it. Occasionally, she would lick my dick, hard, from my balls to the tip, leaving it very moist, so that her hand would cause no friction. As she progressed, she began to concentrate more on my shaft and less on my balls. She licked all over the tip of my cock, and said, "I do like circumcised men. It leaves that cute little notch all the way around." Then she took the shaft into her mouth, just a little at first, then more and more, all the while caressing the underside with her tongue. I began to come, but didn't want to shock my new lover. "It's all right," she said, "I want you in my mouth." A few seconds later, I exploded, and she greedily sucked every drop through spasm after spasm. After I finished, she released my cock from her mouth, and grabbing a Kleenex from a box on the side table wiped her mouth. "I'm sorry," she said, "it was just too much to swallow. I love the taste, though."

She reclined on the couch, and encouraged me to cuddle her. "May I have a turn, now?" she asked. I began to suckle at her lovely breasts, and again rub her clitoris. She began to moan, and said, "Please. Please eat me." I knelt between her legs, and was able to rub her pussy with my chest while I caressed her arms and legs with my hands and her tits with my tongue. It was driving her nuts, I could tell. Finally, she called, "Please, I need your mouth now!" I went down between her legs, and, for the first time, tasted her sweet feminine juices. Slowly licking both sides of her vaginal lips, I continued to playfully squeeze her nipples with my hands. Gently, I began to insert my tongue into her slot, which resulted in loud murmurs of approval. Finally, I began sucking her large clitoris in earnest, while her moans quickly became screams of joy as she orgasmed.

"Oh, that was wonderful," she said as she began kissing my mouth, cheeks and chin, cleaning them thoroughly of her pussy juice. She stood up, and I again was able to see just how beautiful she was without clothes. She twirled, giving me a wonderful view of her full ass, blew out the candles, picked up her clothes and said, "follow me."

I did, roving down the hall until she turned into her bedroom in which a small night-light burning. Placing our clothes on a chaise in the corner and approaching the bed, she turned the vermilion comforter down. I gazed upon her choice of bedclothes - white with large red hearts. "I knew you were coming," she said, seeing my astonishment. "Climb in, I'll be back in a few moments."

While she disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, I sprawled in the bed and surveyed the erotic, but not graphic, artwork on the walls. A print of Maxville Parish's 'The Dinky Bird.' An Erte of an exquisite half-exposed maid. An original oil of a chap and dame embracing. A valuable replica of Michelangelo's David.

When she returned, she seemed to be glowing. As she climbed into bed she said, "lie down." After I did, she straddled on top of me, totally exposing herself to my view, and said, "You now see the entire show. If you wish, however, there are a few more acts to participate in. Do you want to continue? If you do, I promise to be gentle." Experiencing a rising atmosphere (which Susan in her present position was sure to be aware of), I of course agreed.

Susan told me to roll over on my back, and then took out two mink mitts, which she donned and then began to gently rub my back, ass and legs. I'd heard about these things, but had never experienced them. Finally, she took the gloves off and told me to roll onto my side. After placing her pussy where I could easily reach it with my mouth, she took my cock into hers. After ample sucking by both of us, she released me and laid down on her side beside me. "Are you ready," she asked between deep kisses, "to become my lover?"

"Yes," I replied. She laid on her back and, while I was still on my side, put both of her legs over my hip. Reaching down between her legs, she guided my cock into her pussy. I'd never tried that position, or ever had that much mastery during the love act before. As she caressed my upper body I was able to see, feel and touch her beautiful breasts completely while our pelvic regions rocked together. Being able to seize the top of the headboard gave me leverage to move in any method that pleasured her. It was magical, and after ten minutes or so of this wonderful love making, her vaginal muscles contracted, causing us both to come together.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" she asked, after we had come back to our senses.

"Oh, yes, I've never felt that way before."

"Good. That's one of my favorite positions. Will you practice it with your wife before coming back to me next week?"

I was shocked. I hadn't thought of my wife that night, and now I filled with guilt. Susan understood, and began to put me at ease. "Don't be concerned. I knew that you were married when I invited you here, and when I asked you to play backgammon for such high stakes. I know that you love her, and are committed to her. I just ask that when you have time for me that you will visit with me, play some more backgammon and perhaps make love to me, if you want to. Now sleep." We cuddled, and then we both drifted into our dreams.

Through the night, we woke each other up twice, kissing and fondling each other. Both times culminated in tremendous orgasms for both of us.

After the alarm clock chimed noisily, I went home to shave and shower. When I got to the office, it seemed to be business as usual. Susan said, "Good morning," cheerfully, as if nothing had happened. Later, I asked if she could play at lunch, but she said she had an offsite meeting and couldn't. I did overhear one of the admins asking her why she was so happy that morning.

That night at my apartment, I got a call from Susan. She told me how much she'd delighted in the previous evening, wished me a good weekend, and said that she'd be happy to play backgammon during lunch hours and on Wednesday evenings.

During the remainder of the year, I split my time between my two women. I spent just one night a week with Susan; that seemed to suffice for both of us. After dinner, we'd play strip backgammon. Susan usually surprised me with some sort of new undergarment and taught me erotic positions and activities I'd either never thought of or had forgotten. The winner of the match would direct the carnival until we both got so excited that we forgot who was driving. The funny thing is, although I won my share of games, I only won two more matches the entire time, even when my mistress wore only lingerie or gave me some other advantage. On the weekends my wife welcomed me home, and we'd happily spend part of them practicing the new maneuvers I'd been instructed in, along with a few that my wife thought of.

At the end of my assignment, the group gave me a going away party on a Wednesday evening, and it was announced that I was going to get that promotion after all. Susan gave me a very special going away gift later that night. She took me to her home, and led me down the hall to her boudoir. Under a canopy of red balloons a wrapped gift rested on the bed. As I stripped the paper off, I recognized her red backgammon board. "Something to remember me by," she whispered, just before we played our final match.

Susan and I stayed in contact for a while, but about a year and a half later she left the company and moved to another city. I misplaced her address, and we haven't spoken to each other since.

One night, a few months after I returned, my wife took me out to dinner at a very romantic club. Over desert she confided, "Phil, we need to talk about something. Something that affects our relationship, and that we need to get out on the table." My first thought, of course, was that somehow Kathy knew about Susan, and I prepared for the inevitable.

"Phil, I don't quite know how to put this gently, so I'll just say it straight out: While you were gone, I had an affair."

I was so relieved that I just said, "Good." My wife was incredulous. Of course, I immediately confessed that I too was guilty of indiscretions. My wife considered this for a moment.

"Is it over?" she asked.

"Yes, what about yours?"

"History!"

She told me some details about her promiscuity, and seemed anxious to hear of my infidelities. After a week or so, we jointly came to the conclusion that no real harm had been done, and we continue to live with each other happily. Although we occasionally have teased each other about other men or women, we have returned to our monogamous state. All's well that ends well, I guess.

Oh, and the year after I returned home I won my backgammon club's championship, a feat that had previously eluded me.

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Once I asked Susan what would have happened if I hadn't rolled that 5-1 in the ninth game. She looked up at me from what she was doing with my lower regions, and said, "You know, I've never lost one of those matches."

Somewhere out there is a tall brunette who wears red, plays backgammon and needs just the right amount of love. If you meet her, and she challenges you to a special match, I hope you play well.

You'll have to.