3 comments/ 26898 views/ 1 favorites Wham Bam By: Hudson It was like any other day in the Henderson household Jeff was running late for work tripping over the kid’s toys as he rushed for the front door. Katie ushered the children into the bathroom ordering them to brush their teeth and dress or they would be late for school. Katie took a deep breath as tranquillity fell upon the house, quiet at last she thought. She took a few sips of her luke warm coffee before heading off to the laundry to start the daily washing, stopping briefly to look in the bathroom mirror. Katie let out a deep sigh as she tried to manoeuvre her shoulder length blonde hair into some orderly fashion after a few seconds she gave up and went to sort the colours from the whites. Once Katie was convinced the washing was well on its way she headed up the stairs to the bedroom... As she headed towards the wardrobe hurriedly discarding her pyjamas she caught a glimpse of her naked body in the cheval mirror. Katie stopped and took time out to look at her body she cupped her breasts and pushed them up and then let them go watching them bounce, still pert she thought , she then ran her hands down her smooth stomach and turned clenching her buttocks examining them in the mirror, not bad for two kids she reflected. By the time Katie had found her yellow summer dress she heard the clunk of the washing machine finish it cycle, she slipped the dress over her head and bunched her hair back, the rubber band pulling causing her to wince. Katie grabbed the washing basket and filled it with damp clothes and walked out into the back garden, she looked at the long washing line and shook her head, by the end of the day it would be full of clothes. Katie held the white shirt and flicked it outward, a little trick her mother had taught her to help take out the wrinkles. Katie paused momentarily as she thought she heard Jeff’s car in the driveway she shrugged her shoulders dismissing the thought then continued hanging the clothes, it would be hours before Jeff would be home, so she thought. Jeff startled Katie as he appeared around the corner of the house, without saying a word he approached Katie and gave her a deep passionate kiss, he slipped his hands onto Katie’s arse and squeezed hard pulling her closer towards him. At first Katie struggled against the attention she was receiving expecting an explanation from Jeff, one was not forthcoming. Jeff ran his hands up along Katie’ back until they reached her shoulders he pushed her slightly away allowing him to snuggle his face into her breasts, the feel of Jeff’s mouth through the material of her dress made Katie’s nipples harden. Jeff ran his hands along Katie’s legs pushing her skirt upwards, exposing her silky thighs to the warmth of the sun, he lifted her dress over her head, the freshness of the day stroking against her firm breasts made her pussy wet. Jeff slid Katie’s cotton panties off the sensation made Katie want to touch her smooth shaved cunt. Katie hurriedly unbuttoned Jeff’s shirt, she pulled him in close, his muscular chest pressed hard against her smooth skin, she ran her long nails down the length of his taught back and slid her hands down the back of his trousers digging her nails into his firm arse. Jeff undid his trousers letting them drop to the floor, his hard cock springing against Katie’s protruding pink clit. Jeff pushed Katie to the ground and pushed his throbbing cock into her tight dripping cunt. Katie bit his shoulder hard and long waiting for her tight pussy to adjust to his size. Jeff did not wait he pushed his cock in hard and deep forcing Katie to release her grip and cry with pleasure. Jeff’s mouth enveloped Katie’s tit and he sucked it hard pulling as much of her into his mouth as he could then letting go, Katie clenched her teeth as Jeff bit her nipples, she dug her nails deep into his back drawing blood, this only made Jeff pummel Katie’s cunt harder. Katie wrapped her legs round Jeff’s pulling him deeper into her wanting hole. Jeff lifted his body, arching his back pushing Katie harder into the ground her hair tangling with the mixture of dirt and her sweat. Jeff’s balls slapped hard against Katie’s arse, she grabbed his buttocks and pulled them hard apart pushing him deeper into her, forcing her soddened cunt lips apart and exposing more of her hardened clit trying to relieve her deep ache. Jeff leaned forward laying flat against Katie his weight pushing hard against her tits, his hand grabbing a handful of hair pulling her head back hard, Katie responded by biting Jeff’s lip. Jeff pushed deep into Katie and paused as his large cock erupted inside her. The sensation of Jeff’s pulsating cock and the feel of his hot cum splashing inside her sent Katie’s cunt into spasms as her orgasm exploded inside her. Jeff withdrew his cock from Katie’s dripping cunt, dressed, smiled and headed back to work. Katie lay on the ground for awhile her hands slowly moving over her dusty silky skin enjoying the moment, her attention snapped back to reality as the washing machine clunked as it finished another load. THE END Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am Divorced and still single, I have my two elementary-school-age children each Wednesday evening and every other weekend, and my social life, what little of it there is, pretty much revolves around them. Though I'm horny as the devil all the time, I'm just not interested in a relationship, and don't really have time for one if I were. I had the kids for the Labor Day weekend, and we planned to watch a video together Saturday night. We're watching all the James Bond movies in the order in which they were released, and View to a Kill—Roger Moore's final 007 film—was on tap. Having spent the entire day in the blazing hot sun doing yard work and barbecuing, then fixing dinner and cleaning up the kitchen, I just wanted to relax with my kids, watch the movie, and drink a few cold beers. But there were no beers, cold or otherwise, in the house. There are times when you want beer, and there are times when you need beer. I needed beer! I noticed the previous renters had not "been kind to rewind" the video, so I popped it into the VCR to rewind and told the kids, who were already in their pajamas, to wait for me to go get some beer and that I would be right back in about 10-15 minutes. "OK, daddy, hurry back. It's already 8:11, and the movie's two hours and eleven minutes long," said my daughter, knowing that her little brother generally konks out by ten-thirty. I zoomed out the driveway, caught every light green, and pulled into the grocery parking lot. Checking my watch as I scurried inside, I saw it was 8:14 PM. I was making excellent time, and figured I'd be back home in ten minutes, no problem, so I made like Carl Lewis back to the beer, grabbed two sixes of Pete's Wicked Ale, and zig-zagged like a tailback to the express check-out line. Superb: The checker was already bagging up a couple ladies' items, and the next person—a goofy-looking 7-foot-tall dude with a bow tie—had only a carton of ice cream. Then I'd be checked out and outa there. It was 8:16 PM. I looked around. The other lines were long. Were there always this many people shopping at this time of night? I felt fortunate to be in such a short line, and looked forward to being out of there and back home with Bond and beer and kids in just a few minutes. Then I looked behind me. Ohmygod! Down at the end of the soft drink aisle was a girl with long blonde hair bending down getting a 2-liter Pepsi. What a beauty! What a booty! She had on some tight, low-slung bell-bottoms, and I could not only see the tops of her luscious, fleshy buns, but also the first inch of her crack. She stood up with a giant bag of frozen Totinos pizza rolls swinging in her other hand and walked right in my direction. Short, probably in her early 20s, and with thick, curly blonde hair ¾ the way down her back, she had on a crisp white cotton halter top knotted in tan cleavage over a deep belly button centered in a sexy, bare midriff. Your basic piece of ass. As she made her way toward me, I heard the lady in my line, who should have been out the door by now, arguing with the checker. "I don't wont them, and I either wont them big ones or my money back!" The checker explained that it was the store's policy to not accept returns of personal care items. I turned around to see what all the fuss was about. The middle-aged lady was wagging her index finger at the checker, and the older woman with her—who looked to be her mother—stood silently there in supportive defiance, lips pooched out with her arms folded tightly across her chest, the tops of her massive brown breasts spilling out over her forearms. I felt something soft against my arm and spun around. The blonde was behind me in line, and her hair was lightly brushing me as she reached for a Cosmopolitan magazine. Wow, she looked even better up close. I knew I did not know her, yet her face seemed somehow familiar: utterly flawless skin; large, hazel eyes; a pixie nose; very full, slightly flared lips (what I call blow-job lips); and a gently rounded chin. Where had I seen that face before? Then it hit me: she bore an uncanny resemblance to Tanya Roberts, the Bond girl in the very film I was to watch that night! Or had my horniness, combined with extended solar exposure and charcoal fumes, caused me to perceive any good-looking girl as familiar? Whatever, but there was no doubt the young girl before me was an absolute piece of ass. My eyes wandered down her smooth neck to her cleavage. I could now see that the décolletage was created by a strapless "wonder" bra doing its job on her B-cup breasts. And a wonderful job it was doing, indeed; yet I yearned to free them from restraint. Gazing further downwards, I visually retraced the vortex of her navel, imagining my tongue swirling in ever-smaller circles until I slurped it deep into the vagina-like cavity. The fade lines in the crotch of her jeans rode over a protruding mons and labial flesh below to converge like vectors in a complex equation with a delightfully simple solution: pussy. I would certainly like to "mount" a scientific expedition there, I chuckled to myself. My eyes roamed on down her slender legs to cute little bright pink painted toes peaking out the sandals below the cuff of her bell-bottoms. The condensation dripping off my beer bottles onto my leg snapped me back to the task at hand, and I pried my eyes away to turn back toward the customers who had the line stalled. "I ain't leaving this stow lessin I git them big uns or my money back!" Time: 8:24 PM. Should I take my chances and get in another line or stay put? I scanned the other lines, and then saw young blondie, looking frustrated but too short to see over the magazine rack, look up at me. "As usual, the line I 'm in is the one not moving. I have that effect on lines, so I take full responsibility," I said to her. While she said, "No, blame me. I'm the one who always brings the line to a screeching halt," I noticed she had the Cosmo open to the article 10 Tricks to Drive Your Man Wild in Bed, or something like that. Anyway, we started talking, and I liked that she was not shy, not to mention her preference in reading material. No, not shy at all, for when I said I did not know exactly what the problem in our line was, she said, "The lady accidentally got a box of regular rubbers instead of the magnums she intended. She bought them, but realized her mistake before leaving the register. She wants the large size or her money back, but the store's policy is to not refund or exchange that kind of product. Since she never opened them or even left the store with them, she thinks the store should make an exception, and I agree." Just then, the lady, extremely angry, veritably screamed, "Them rubbas won't fit my mane. He gotta big old cock!" holding her hands up about a foot apart. We cracked up laughing, as did everyone toward the front of the store, and I found my hand touching the side of young blondie's bare waist, looking down at her jiggling cleavage at very close range, as she leaned into me and looked up with those giant blue-gray eyes. She felt GREAT. She looked GREAT. I felt GREAT—momentarily—then TERRIBLE. What the hell am I doing? I asked myself. I've got a ten- and seven-year-old back at home alone waiting on me to get back to watch a video, I'm already late, and I'm hitting on a chick half my age. Get your goddam beer and get home to your kids ASAP, you motherfucking derelict! So, I slowly caressed my hand around young blondie's waist across her tummy and navel as I pulled away and told her I was jumping ship to another line. She stayed in the same line for a while longer, until the store manager the checker had been paging finally showed up and got into a further haggle with the lady, then young blondie switched into the line between me and the original line. We exchanged looks and a few more words. At first, my line was moving slowly but surely, then I heard the dreaded words on the intercom, "Price check on lane six!" I was in lane six. By then, young blondie's line started moving quite rapidly, so I switched to her line right behind her just before a frowning lady with a full basket barreled up behind me. Again, young blondie and I started chatting. I told her I came for COLD beer, but by now it was approaching room temperature. She said, likewise, her Totinos, once frozen, were now practically ready to eat. Once again, we were getting along just marvelously. Every time she'd turn her head, the wonderful scent of her hair wafted into my nose, and, now standing behind her, I could see that she had a beautiful tattoo of a butterfly on her left shoulder. I commented about her hair being so lovely, and she said she had just washed it and took especially good care of it, as it was "After all, the only hair I have—on my entire body." Mmmmmm. When I mentioned I liked her tattoo, she thanked me and said she had another one "hidden, well, not ALWAYS hidden." Mmmmmmm. This chick was turning me on—at the worst possible time, no less. At this point, there was only one basket, albeit overflowing, in front of us. As the checker raked item after item across the scanner, one of the two fat women with that cart kept going back for more food—Little Debbie's, a stack of frozen pies, two whole cakes, a vat of ice cream. Again and again, she'd go back for more. She was filling the basket up nearly as fast as the checker could ring them up! Young blondie said that maybe this trip to the store had not been a total waste of time after all, as she had learned a new shopping strategy: Come with a friend, have the friend get in line with an empty basket immediately, then go back and forth through the store and fill up the basket with everything you need. By the time the basket is full, you and your friend have made it through the line to the checker. The way she told this so matter-of-factly, had me and everyone within earshot laughing, except, of course, the two fat ladies in front of us, who shot us several dirty looks. I scanned the lines again to see how we were progressing. The super-tall, goofy dude with the bow tie, the guy who had been in front of me in the original "express" line, had switched to the longest line of all, yet he was heading out the door with his ice cream. Obviously, he had made a good decision. At long last, young blondie was up to the register and set her Totinos and Pepsi on the belt. I could now see what the problem was. This checkout guy was moving at a snail's pace. While he slowly scanned her two items, from her tiny purse she moved aside a small flip phone and pulled out a thick stack of bills folded in half. She fanned them, and plucked a one hundred dollar bill to make her small purchase. In fact, all the bills were 100s! At this time, I also noticed that her auto key remote had the big slanting "L" logo on it--Lexus. Now that was odd--a young girl like her with that much cash in large bills and who drove a luxury car--extremely odd, indeed. Maybe it was because this paradoxical information had me momentarily befuddled, or maybe it was because I was conflicted about my kids waiting at home alone to watch the movie, but I barely mustered a half smile and said nothing to young blondie when she picked up her bag, looked back at me, smiled, and said, "Well, bye for now," and then turned and glided toward the door like a leopard. I looked back over my shoulder to the "express" line. The lady and the store manager were STILL haggling about the prophylactics. "We gone be here all night 'til I git my money or the big rubbas!" she said for the umteenth time. Hell, I had three Trojan Large condoms in my waist pack, and I seriously thought about handing them over to her! The notion of sex refocused my attention back to young blondie, and I looked up just as she disappeared through the automatic door into the darkness outside. It was only then that I finally realized that I had to catch her and make THE MOVE. I mean, I could be with my kids for the rest of the weekend, but how many times in a lifetime do you meet a certified piece of ass who obviously likes you, only to let her get away? Second question: how long does it take to ring up two six-packs of beer and make change from a twenty? An incredibly long time, in this particularly time-sensitive case. Because the checker was not paying attention and yacking with a co-worker, he dropped my change into the crack in the belt, saying to the sacker. "There was your favorite customer again, Darrel. Wooeee!" "You show said it right, Isaiah. She be the hottest ho in midtown! Ow!" "Gentlemen," I interrupted, "Forget about the lost change, forget about a sack, and give me my beer immediately, because I gotta go get that girl!" And with that I snatched the Wicked Ale from Darrel's hands and literally ran out the door. I scanned the parking lot for long blonde hair. Nothing. I jumped up on top of the line of nested shopping baskets for a better view. Zilch. With my encyclopedic knowledge of autos, my mind rapidly flashed mental images of all Lexus models while my eyes searched the lot. No match, not a single Lexus in the whole lot. Damn, damn, damn! Where on Earth could young blondie have disappeared to so quickly? Since I'm totally anal about my own car, I had parked it, as usual, way around the side of the grocery building 40 yards from the nearest other vehicle. Cursing myself out loud for not seizing the moment as I made my way to my car, I lit a cig and cracked open a barely cool beer with the Swiss Army Knife on my key chain. Oh shit, it was 8:44; I'd already been gone over half an hour. Gotta get back to my kids. Just as I slipped the key in the ignition, I saw exhaust fumes billowing from the other side of the dumpster—the one place I could not see when I scanned the lot—so I jumped out to see what kind of car it was—a Lexus LS 400!!! It was idling, and, from the rear, I could see that there was no one in the driver's seat, but the dark outline of someone in the front passenger seat was just barely visible. That would just have to be young blondie, so I gleefully ran up to the window only to see that it was a dog-faced old fat bitty with that you-come-one-step-closer-and-I'll-pepper-spray-your-face grimace. My repeated apologies did nothing to allay her fears, as she hissed something about security, so I scooted back to my car and raised the beer high to empty the last swallow. It's a good thing I did that before getting back in my car, for it caused me to gaze well beyond the bounds of the grocery parking lot. Across the major thoroughfare on the far sidewalk was none other than young blondie striding along!!! In addition to her grocery bag in one hand, she now had a bag of Dunkin' Donuts in the other. Well, maybe she didn't have the most nutritious diet, but I now assimilated what had happened. She was ON FOOT--not driving--and must have taken a sharp right out the grocery door around the nearby corner of the building and thus out of sight and then walked across the street to the donut shop. As this came together in my mind, I set a new human land speed record for the 40-yard-across-six-lanes-of-Saturday-night-traffic dash—horns blaring and people saying unseemly things about my mother—to make a beeline to young blondie. She was already laughing at all the commotion I caused before I got to her and, with sweat pouring off my brow, said, "I thought I'd lost you and am so glad I found you. You are incredibly beautiful and sexy. I am extremely hot for you and feel that the only viable option is to extinguish our fire right now." Her response could not have been more definitive. "Right now? Well, I live only four doors up this side street. We COULD do it right now, but it would be a lot more comfortable at my place. I can wait five minutes; how 'bout you? By the way, my name's Raquel; what's yours?" And so I took the bag of Totino's and Pepsi, grabbed her hand, and we raced back across the busy street together and got into my car (After all, that's where my beer was!) where I borrowed her cell phone and called home. It was 8:49, and my daughter answered on the first ring. "Honey, Dad's run into a friend at the grocery, and we're going to spend some time together. Why don't y'all each get a big bowl of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice cream out of the freezer and just go ahead and watch the movie without me. I'll be home before it's over. OK?" My daughter seemed a little bit disappointed, and once again, I felt TERRIBLE, but I had made a decision and would see it through. I calculated I would need to be home no later than 11:00 PM if they started the movie immediately and saw it through with no pauses. Raquel heard the whole phone conversation and saw the ennui in my countenance. "You must be as horny as me to do that, but I'll make the next two hours well worth it, so long as you do your part," Raquel assured me, as she slipped her hand up my shorts and squeezed my cock to full attention. "Mmmmm, nice and hard and thick." I pulled out of the lot and she went on, "Listen, you seem like a really nice man who knows how to treat a woman like a lady, but I want to tell you up front that I'm not interested in a relationship. I'm a full-time student on academic scholarship with a part-time job, so I have to keep my grades up and, frankly, don't have time for a relationship. I dated the same guy all through high school but when he moved away for college, I quickly learned that a long-distance relationship just does not work for me. I mean, what's the point of having a boyfriend if I've got to wait until Thanksgiving Break to have sex? It broke his heart when I broke that off. I just started college here in town a month ago and found myself going out with this senior right away. We were only on like our fifth date when he asked to marry me! It only took me about another nanosecond to end that." So, she was even younger than I thought, about 18, maybe 19. Like me, she didn't have the inclination or time for a steady squeeze, but judging from the squeeze on my dick, she knew what she was doing in the sexual relations department and wanted adventure. Perfect. I pulled into her driveway behind a brand new IS 300 SportCross with the drive-out tag still on it. OK, so there's the Lexus. We went inside the duplex, and she disappeared into the kitchen with the junk food and beer. I heard the microwave humming and sat down on the couch. I noticed a stack of mail on the side table. Her unusual last name was the same as the CEO of a major company headquartered in town. I had interviewed for a job with him less than a year ago, and I realized Raquel must be his daughter. Well, well, small world. Anyway, her being his daughter would explain the Lexus and all the cash, but I remember he was big on the work ethic, so that would account for her having the part-time job despite the scholarship and Daddy's money. Further, though she really did resemble the Bond girl in the video my kids were watching, her familiarity was probably more attributable to photos I must have seen of her in his office when I interviewed. I vowed to definitely NOT mention that I had met her father, who was the same age as I and, come to think of it, acted and even looked a lot like me. Remembering Freud, I thought she might have what he calls an Elektra Complex—the female corollary to the Oedipus Complex—in which a girl subconsciously wants to have sex with her father and so seeks out men similar to him. Intriguing notion. Then Raquel appeared, naked, in the doorway, holding a steaming plate of Totino's in one hand and two beers in the other. "The rest of the beers are in the icebox getting colder, I'm getting hotter, and why do you still have your clothes on?" I have never shucked my clothes so fast, but as I did, I could not take my eyes off her. Free of the push-up bra, she had gorgeous little boobs that swooped down, then out and turned dramatically up. Centered in incongruously broad areolas for B-cup tits were pointy little red nipples, turned somewhat upward, that resembled a baby's fingertips. I was pleasantly reminded that small breasts could be every bit as good as big ones and the old adage, "Big tits does not a beautiful woman make." Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am And her other tattoo was hidden no more, for in the middle of her totally bare crotch, right in the poochiest part of her mons, was a butterfly hovering over the folds of skin leading to Pussyland, the lips of which were visible in the small heart-shaped space between her slim upper thighs. She put down the pizza rolls and beers on the coffee table and sat down on the couch beside me. We began to French kiss very deep and wet, our tongues darting and dancing as I combed my fingers through her long, soft, curly blonde hair with one hand while I caressed those velvety breasts with the other. And could she ever use her hands, sliding them all through my hair and over my shoulders and back and chest and butt, and finally, my raging erection. I nibbled and licked my way around her ears, down her neck to her tits to suck, squeeze, and just stare at them. "That feels absolutely fantastic, but I'm just famished," she said, "so do you mind if I munch on these pizza rolls while you carry on? Help yourself if you're hungry." I'd eaten a huge meal with my kids just before leaving home, and, hell, I didn't mind if she read the Wall Street Journal, and the fact that she was so relaxed actually just turned me on all the more. So she scarfs Totino's while I continue my breast work, worked my way down to her lovely navel and did what I'd imagined with it in the grocery, and prompted by her spreading her legs wide, dived into Pussyland. "Oh, good, good, good, good, good!" she exclaimed before taking a big swallow of beer. "Here, have a swig," handing me my bottle, so I came up for air, took a couple gulps, and went back to "work." "Oh yeah, I like the way your cold tongue feels on my clit with your warm mouth sucking my pussy lips. You definitely know what you're doing." Wow, this gal was so at ease with sex, all the more remarkable, considering her youth. Raquel had the most wonderful looking and tasting pussy. It's lips, like the ones on her face, were very full and puffy. To say they were large would surely be an understatement. And her clit had an equally big hood over half of it, but was easy to peel back to fully expose for delectable licking and sucking. She was so very, very wet, and the taste—simply delicious as nectar. It was the kind of pussy you just cannot get enough of. And was she ever vocal, to put it mildly. "Oooooh yeah, suck that pleasure button! Suck it harder! Harder! That's it. Lick it. Suck it. That's right, put another finger in me; put in another one. Bite my lips. Bite 'em harder! Damn, you eat good pussy!" While I was doing my best down there, she was biting her facial lips and squeezing and pinching her nipples so hard I thought they might pop. I could see she was working up to a climax, so I went at her with ever more vigor, ultimately licking and sucking and biting and finger-frigging as fast as I could possibly move. "Oh my God, I'm cumming. Don't you dare stop 'cause I'm cumming. I'm cumming; I'm cumming; I'm cumming; I'm cumming; I'm cumming." She was having a tumultuous orgasm, and must have said that at least 50 times, quivering all over like a person with the chills, until her face flushed red and she screamed like a Banshee. Then, panting, she pulled me up to her face by the hair of my head and kissed and licked and nibbled practically my entire face. But it was what she said that really surprised me. "That was really, really, really good, but, you know, I get the feeling you're holding back." Raquel had amazing powers of perception, as she was spot-on: I HAD been holding back. Sure, I gave the best cunnilingus I knew how, but, because she was so young and it was our first sex together, I did not venture into anything kinky. "Even though I've only had sex with three guys before tonight, I went with my high school boyfriend for four years, and we started doing it in 9th grade just before I turned 14. I already knew pretty much about sex, but over that time period, we learned even more by getting all kinds of books and magazines and videos on sex, tried just about everything, and liked all of it. So, I'll do anything, ANYTHING. Anything except extreme pain or that causes permanent injury." She went on, "I mean, I'm in college now, just turned 18, and need to get around. No matter what I did with them, you can't really call fucking only three guys in my whole life being a slut, but I'm on a new path starting now. After all, I FEEL like a slut, so treat me like the slut that I am and go husky wild on me. I know you got it in you, so would you just fuck me like a cheap whore?" Giving her my answer with both action and words, I stood up, got a beer and a cigarette, pulled her roughly by the hair to the edge of the couch, thrust my cock in her face, and ordered, "Suck dick, bitch, while I smoke and drink!" She smiled in approval, and proceeded to lick him up and down and all around to get it real wet, flick it with her long, agile tongue, and then suck my balls while massaging the shaft firmly with long, slow strokes with one hand while twiddling one of my nipples with her other. Gazing up into my eyes, cheeks concave with suction, she slowly worked all seven inches into her mouth and down her throat as she swirled her tongue on the underside and began to hum The Star Spangled Banner. A true patriot! She sucked it slowly back to the tip using a back-and-forth motion, then grasped it extra firm at the base with one hand, cupped my balls with the other, popped it loudly out of her mouth, and just stared and kissed and licked it over and over, saying, "My, what a nice cock you have, so thick, so warm, pulsing." "The better to fuck you with, Little Red Riding Hood," I teased. Then she screwed it back into her mouth and resumed humming the national anthem. I say "screw" because, as she went up and down, she had a great way of rotating her head side to side while simultaneously holding the shaft and rotating her hand in the opposite direction. Not one to let a perfectly good hand lie idle, she used the other one to tickle my balls and circle a fingertip 'round my anus. Raquel had only begun this blow-job and had already worked her way into the top 10% of head I'd ever received! And it was great not only because of the fantastic physical sensation, but also because of her excellent attitude. She'd turned on all the lights there in the den, so I could both watch everything she was doing and take in the visual delight of her sexy face and body. She quite obviously adored my dick, and was enjoying the fact that I was drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette while she sucked away. You just don't find chicks like that every day! After I finished the brew and smoke, I took her by the ears, told her to be still, and vigorously face-fucked her, listening to her suctioning breath escape through her lips on the outstroke and watching her perfect little titties flounce about. I checked my watch for the time, and it was 9:25 PM. OK, I had about another hour and a half. I was on the verge of cumming anyway, so I pulled out of her mouth and went to the kitchen for another beer. "They're in the ice box, and bring me one, and those donuts, too, please," she hollered. The beers were super cold, so I put the partial six-pack in the frij, and brought the full six of Pete's Wicked Ale and donuts back to the den. Raquel tore into the box of glazed Dunkin'Donuts, and was leaning over the coffee table, tits a swinging and laughing, "Health food!" Damn, her boobs looked good hanging down like that! I calculated that due to their size and up-turned shape, they would fit perfectly through the donut holes, and, with just a little help, stay in place, so that's what I did. She stood up, strutted back and forth across the room, and modeled them. Best-looking donuts I ever saw! Then, leaving them in place, she knelt between my knees, pulled my legs up, and gave me a terrific rim/blow/hand job—starting at my anus with her skillfully licking tongue, licking up balls and shaft, sucking down my dick, back up, then tonguing her way back to my ass to plunge her tongue inside as she spiral-wanked my shaft. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat, etc. Talk about sexual pleasure! And, of course, I continued to drink my ice-cold beer and watch the donuts not fall off her tits all the while. When I just couldn't take that anymore, I stood her upright and ate the donuts off her boobs. Best-tasting donuts I ever ate! I licked both tits in spiral circles to get off all the glaze before latching onto first one then the other nipple like a lamprey. "Yeah, suck 'em hard, real hard, feels good!" she moaned. Then I squeezed her succulent boobs together, got both nips in my mouth, and started chewing on them like a school kid on pencil erasers during the math final. "That's it, suck 'em, bite 'em hard, chew 'em! Hurts so very good!" Raquel was loving this rough treatment, but she wanted more, much more. So, I twirled her around, bent her over at the waist, forced her head down to the couch cushion, and got her in a doggie-fuck position. I was about to mount her, but when I saw those big wet pussy lips, I just had to taste them again. I treated them just like her nipples, maybe even rougher, munching them and her clit like beef jerky and four-fingering her flowing gash as she screamed with pleasure loud enough to be heard back at the express aisle. In fact, her whole curvy ass was wet with pussy juice, just shining in the light. Goddamn did it look good in this position! While I sucked her clit with hickie-like suction, I smacked a bun with my open hand. Thousands of tiny droplets of vagina juice went flying, and she cried out, "Spank me good. Spank me harder." So, I smacked her other bun with my other hand with more force. "Yeah, spank my butt. I'm a bad little girl and need a good spankin'!" Smack, smack, smack, smack. Right bun, left bun, right bun, left. I was spanking her so hard my hand was tingling. "Keep spankin' me, 'cause I'm a slut, Daddy." "Daddy" did I hear her say? "Daddy?!" Talk about kinky!!! I had suspected Raquel might have an Elektra Complex, and now I suspected it even more. Was she fantasizing or re-enacting something that had actually happened? I did NOT want to know!!! I continued to spank her buns, making them ever redder, while I ate her pussy and then asshole, which increased the volume even more. She had that ability to just relax the anal sphincter and let it open a bit, so it looking and smelling clean, I stuck my tongue in, then deeper, then as far as it would go, when she clamped down hard on it and, like before, began to shiver all over and repeatedly say, "I'm cumming" while I continued to four-finger her pussy with special attention to the slightly less-smooth G-spot inside Well, she was still singing the I'm Cumming Chorus, and it appeared to have no end when, in the interest of time, I just pulled my fingers from her pussy and tongue from her poop-shoot and replaced them with my cock and right thumb, respectively, though I continued to keep up spanking duty with my open left hand. Rapidly chanting "Fuck me, Daddy; fuck me, Daddy; fuck me, Daddy" in time to my thrusting/spanking/thumbing, she sort of sounded like a fast-moving steam locomotive—with emphasis on "loco." Not that it wasn't an absolutely fantastic fuck, but that part about the "Daddy" was just a bit disturbing, you know? Especially when she'd look back over her shoulder, look me straight in the eyes, and say it. It certainly was no cause to pull out and go home, so I pondered whether to fuck her in the ass now or later. I was ready to, and, of course, she was ready for anything, but I also was ready for a change of position, as I wanted to look at her face, tits, tummy, and front of her pussy again. Decisions, decisions. I decided to maneuver her around atop me, but the trick is to do it so that you never withdraw from her pussy, so I got my knees on the couch, scooched her around parallel to the length of it, then rocked her back and straightened my legs forward (thank Mom and Dad for the yoga lessons!) so that she's atop me facing away. Once again demonstrating her sexual prowess, she figured out what I was doing and moved with me so that my cock never slipped from her pussy, though I had to extract my thumb from her ass and cease the spanking. I originally was going to spin her on around to face me on top, but I decided I'd pause to let her fuck me facing away for a while, as I was enjoying the new look of her lovely backside in this position—back and arm muscles flexing, and her beautiful long curly blonde hair brushing against the tops of her buns as they squished up and down on my pelvis in countless changing shapes. After a bit, she took the initiative and twisted around to face me. Ahhh, her face, those boobs, that deep navel in her sexy tummy, the butterfly tattoo floating over the creases of her bare crotch, and her inflated pussy lips hugging my cock. Instinctively, I grabbed a tit with one hand and thumbed her clit with the other, moistening it with pussy juice and alternating between massaging her pleasure button and swirling it around in her belly button. Raquel smiled and rode me up and down in time to soft oooh, oooh, ooohs. After a while, but never missing a stroke, she reached over to the coffee table, lit a cigarette for me and stuck it in my mouth, then cracked open a beer for each of us. Thoughtfully, she leaned forward to pull a pillow beneath my head so I could drink it. Still fucking slowly, we guzzled them down quickly. "You know, it just doesn't get any better than this," I chuckled. "Yes it does," she said. She sat down the empty bottle, took a deep breath, and in one fluid motion, pulled herself up off my cock, grasped it firmly at the base, and slowly impaled it into her hot, wet bottom hole. Glory be, did that ever feel terrific! She stayed perfectly still for several minutes, and finally said, "That's the biggest cock I've ever had in my ass." "Flattery will get you everywhere," I replied. "No, really, I mean it. It's so thick and hard. It feels good, but give me a minute to adjust." Shortly, Raquel began to work it up and down, gradually increasing the amplitude until she leaned back to grasp my knees and butt-fuck with full thrusts. I could see her pussy better than ever like that, and it was gushing so and running back onto her ass that no other lube was necessary. I caressed her clit with my thumb, then poked it inside her pussy, and she was howling in pleasure. I still had the beer bottle, now empty, in my hand. Hmmmm. Why not? After all, it comes from Pete and the label says it's "wicked." So I stuck the neck of it into her pussy and worked it in and out while thumbing her clit with my other hand. Once again, she resumed the familiar refrain, "Fuck me, Daddy; fuck me, Daddy; fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me in the ass and in my pussy, Daddy." Whatever, but kooky and kinky Raquel no doubt was, and I was having some of the best sex of my entire life. I was getting close to blowing, and I could tell she was close to climaxing, too. Her whole body flushed, and as she uttered the very first of many "I'm cummings," somehow, she was able to keep the bottle wedged in her pussy though I'd let go of it to grab her boobs. I exploded inside her hot, tight ass in a mind-bending orgasm as my eyes darted between her gorgeous face and heaving, upturned tits that I was squeezing. This was one orgasm I would remember for the rest of my life, and it seemed to last for minutes as she kept rhythmically up-and-downing my cock and saying, "I'm cumming, Daddy" over and over and over, having her own protracted orgasm. We stayed coupled for another five minutes before she very, very slowly pulled me out of her bottom. When she turned around to get another two beers off the coffee table, I peeled her buns apart to see her anus, oozing cum, and still gaping open. To ramp up the kink factor I knew she desired, I sucked my cum out of it, and transferred it into her mouth as I French kissed her. Raquel absolutely LOVED that, savoring that semen like fine wine, before she swallowed it, saying, "Now you're not holding back. I love cum. I simply love it." It was 10:11 PM, which gave me about another 45 minutes before I'd have to leave, and I just had to go another round with her, but it would be a while before this 45-year-old man would "recharge." To fill in the refractory period with this girl who'd fucked only young guys who are ready to go again practically immediately, I opened another beer, lit up a smoke, and said, "So, Raquel, tell me your story, your story of sex, starting at the beginning." "Well, I just love sex, and I got into it early on, discovering my pleasure button when I was a very little girl and spending hours every day playing with myself. My favorite game as a kid was playing doctor. I liked the neighborhood boys to touch my button, and I was fascinated at how their "pee-pees" would grow and get stiff when I played with them. I started my period just after I turned 11, and almost overnight I got womanly curves and boobs popped out. I was hoping they'd keep growing and get as big as those of Raquel Welch, my dad's favorite movie star he named me after, but I was so disappointed they never got anywhere near the size of hers. I never grew much pubic hair, either, but now I'm grateful I have very little body hair anywhere on my body and don't have to shave my legs and underarms and pussy very often at all." So, her dad named her after Raquel Welch, an actress with a powerful sexual image not exactly known as a good girl. Interesting. "Anyway, I wanted to have sex! The funny thing, though, was that boys my own age were too skittish to really do anything. They'd make all kinds of sexual comments, and some would pinch my butt or squeeze a boob, but then they'd run away giggling. The older guys in high school sure looked at me a lot, but otherwise ignored me. As a result, I spent the 6th, 7th, and 8th grades masturbating with never-gonna-happen fantasies using my fingers and anything else I could find around the house—the kitchen scrubber brush handle, all kinds of fruits and vegetables, Dad's screwdrivers." Another reference to her father. "My mom and dad divorced during that period, and I was their only child and chose to live with my dad, as my mom was half crazy. He went through a lot of girlfriends after that, and though he usually brought them over after I went to bed and generally got them out of the house before I got up, I knew they were spending the night. And I knew what was going on in his bedroom, too, but I wanted to know EXACTLY what was happening, so I finally got up the courage to spy on him. It was actually a cinch, as we lived in an old historic home with the old-fashioned doorknobs with the big keyhole below." Her MOM was half crazy? I think a few of those genes may have trickled down to Raquel. "I'd sneak downstairs, peer through the keyhole, and watch him go at it in his bed against the far wall. I tell you, Dad could fuck! I learned all kinds of sexual positions and techniques simply by watching him and his myriad girlfriends. Of course, I frigged myself the whole time, and nothing turned me on so much as watching him, but he never had a clue that I was just on the other side of the door. I really looked forward to the "show" every weekend. I badly wanted to do all that stuff myself!" So, she learned all about fucking by watching her dad—not your typical sex education. "Well, I started high school and finally met a guy confident enough to do me. Finally! It was great! Chris kinda reminded me of Dad, and we dated steady until he graduated and went away to college, as I mentioned before. Like I said, he and I did just about everything possible sexually. He had a girl and boy cousin, older than us from California, who would visit on holidays. It was pretty obvious they were heavily into sex, too, and we all started talking about our experiences. In no time, we all got naked together, and it became a standing orgy whenever they were in town." Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am Her first fuck reminded her of Daddy? Could Sigmund Freud have a field day with that! "One of my biggest turn-ons was nibbling on his cousin's balls and eating out his ass while I watched Chris suck his extraordinarily long, skinny dick, then licking my way up to help. I suppose I'm not a lesbian, as I could not live without a warm, hard, live cock, but I gotta tell you, I certainly loved having the girl in the mix. I especially liked it when I'd be on my back on top of his guy cousin with his dick in my ass while Chris fucked my pussy and she on top of me in a 69 sucking my clit as I ate her pussy and ass, spanked her buns, and fondled her big boobs! I always wanted big, meaty breasts like hers." Though it had only been fifteen minutes since I spewed, that little description, combined with the fact that she had been circling her middle finger around her clit the whole time she spoke, had Mr. Johnson at half mast. That did not go unnoticed by Raquel, who kneeled between my knees and spiraled her long blonde hair round and round my shaft before performing her oral magic, this time accentuated with a wet index finger wiggling in my ass. I just leaned back, relaxed, let her suck and lick and slurp and probe, and contemplated what else we could do toward the kinky end of the sexual spectrum in the remaining half hour. Let's see, I'd spanked her especially hard, chewed her nips and puss to near bleeding, butt-fucked her, fucked her pussy with a beer bottle, and eaten my cum from her ass and snowballed it into her mouth. Bondage, yeah, bondage, we hadn't done that. Ever since my days as a Special Deputy, I'd kept a pair of cuffs, along with my pistol, in the console of my car. In fact, I had a pair of stainless steel standard chain-link Smith & Wessons, as well as a pair of chrome thumb cuffs, out there. "Time out, Raquel. I'm gonna run out to my car and get something I think you'll like." Reluctantly popping her mouth off Mr. Stiffy, she asked, "What? What?! WHAT?!" Handing her my empty bottle, I said, "You'll see. Just play with yourself for a minute, and I'll be right back." I ran out onto the porch, but being buck naked with a conspicuous erection, hesitated. Her side street, though close to the thoroughfare, was devoid of pedestrians and traffic, and, of course, it was dark, so I bolted to my car. As I leapt up the steps on the way back, the neighbor from the adjoining duplex was clipping a letter to the mailbox on the wall. She was a nice-looking middle-aged woman—about my age—smiling big and alternating her gaze between my face and my crotch, but mostly my crotch. In curlers wearing a full-length but thin nightgown, I could clearly see her large, pendulous breasts and thick patch of pubes under the porch light. What do you say to a woman who has probably heard all the goings-on through the shared wall when you are stark naked with a big boner between your legs and cuffs in your hand? I decided to just make a joke of it. "Goodness gracious, it's a 'hot and steamy' evening! Why bother with clothes? Well, I should get on back 'in' now. Got to finish up some 'hard' work and 'tie up' a few 'loose ends,'" I double entendered, glancing down at my erection and jangling the cuffs. "Not a problem," she replied, smiling bigger than ever and licking her lips, "Not a problem at all." I fully believe I could have boinked her right then and there, but, of course, my confidence was soaring, Raquel was waiting on me, and I had to be back home to my kids in twenty-five minutes I stepped back inside Raquel's, closed the door, and tossed both pair of cuffs onto the couch beside her. She had the neck of a beer bottle in her pussy and was stroking her clit rapidly. "Ooooh—handcuffs! I like; I like. Look at this tiny pair. Who was that you were talking to?" "Your neighbor," I said. "Really?" Raquel laughed, "She's my landlady. Lives on that side of the duplex and rents out this side. She's real cool, though; I'm sure she enjoyed the impromptu strip show." I went into the kitchen to get another Wicked Ale. Three left. We had certainly drunk it fast. I would take us each one back into the den, so I guzzled the other one while checking out what else was in her frij. Very little: the big Pepsi, milk, mustard, some butter. I opened the drawer at the bottom to find two peppers, Habaneros, known for their high heat, and good sized ones, too. They could certainly "spice up" the sex, so I took them. What else could I find in the kitchen to add some kink? Ah, there on the breakfast table, a fat beeswax candle, which I lit with a kitchen match. Then Raquel appeared at the door with a handful of hardware. "Here, I've got a pair of handcuffs, too, so you can use those, but how do these miniature ones of yours work?" "I'll show you. They're thumb cuffs and go around your thumbs instead of your wrists." I checked my watch. 10:37 PM. Shit!!! Only 23 minutes left! I scanned the kitchen for places to cuff her. Think fast! She dropped to her knees and began to blow me, which did not accelerate my mental processing, but my ¾ erection needed it. Then my "plan of restraint" crystallized. At the end of the small galley kitchen was the sink, the kind that's just a single large basin on the wall, with no cabinet beneath it, so that the pipes beneath are exposed. I dragged her by her long hair down to that end of the kitchen while she praised me for treating her like a whore, and got a few stout spanks on her ass before using the thumb cuffs to secure her to the pipe below the sink so that her arms were over her head and she was face up leaning back at about a 45-degree angle. Then I clasped the full-size cuffs on each of her ankles. There were built-in wooden cabinets along both walls flanking the sink at that end of the kitchen. My first thought was to latch the cuffs through the hoop-shaped handles on the lower cabinet doors, but upon opening the doors, I realized the sturdy vertical piece of wood between the doors that held up the shelves at the front was a much more secure anchor, so I snapped the cuffs there. Now she was spread-eagle on the floor, her legs spread very wide apart and angled up about 30 degrees so that both her pussy and anus were easily accessible, and face and tits and tummy in full view from the position and the glaring florescent light overhead. Placing my feet flat on the floor beneath her hips, I fucked her pussy hard and fast in a deep squatting position, looking somewhat like a huge bullfrog having its willful way with her. From her mouth emanated the by-then-familiar, "Fuck me, Daddy" routine, only she was now even louder and more nasty-talking with stuff like "Fuck me like a slutty bitchin' whore 'til I'm raw," and such, but Raquel was so wet and slippery with a seemingly endless supply of pussy juice that I don't think she'd ever be fucked raw. She came, singing the I'm-Cumming Chorus over and over. I let her lie there begging for my cock in her ass while I got up, downed the next-to-last beer, and collected the peppers and candle before straddling her chest and feeding her my tube steak, which she sucked and slurped quite well even though she could no longer use her patented spiraling-hands technique. I added more moisture to the saliva already on her face by smearing her pussy juice on it, then smacked my dick like a billy-bat on her lips and tongue and chin and cheeks and nose and eyes and ears. She absolutely loved this treatment, gasping, "That's it, slap that hard meat on my face. I'm a slut! Fuck my eyes and ears. Oh, Daddy, fuck my brains out!" Well, that was a kinky notion, but not a fit, not even close. And always that "Daddy" bit. Too weird! So I got back in my squatting bull-frog position and just banged her butt-hole, instead. While reaming her, I drizzled the hot candle wax on her nipples, and she hollered screams of pleasure-pain. I dripped more wax into her deep navel, and then on her clit and pussy, which she seemed to like even more, continuing to utter the "Daddy" refrain. I started to alternate fucking her pussy and ass, pumping one hole a few strokes before poking the other, back and forth. Very nice sensation, indeed! At 10:53, I knew I had to wrap things up in a few minutes, so I put the last props—the Habenero peppers—into play. I bit the end of one off, and, I tell you, it was ONE HOT PEPPER, even for a guy who has a high tolerance for spicy heat. The tip of the pepper kind of reminded me of her nipples, so I bit the end of the other pepper off, and placed them over her nipples, twirling the Habeneros over them like little spinning teepees. After all the chewing and hot wax on her nips, that must have been painful, but Raquel just kept on ooohing and aaaahing, only a bit louder. Finally, leaving the peppers on her tits, I pulled out of her holes, turned the other half of the peppers wrong-side-out, and place them over the mouths of two beer bottles. I took one and ground it vigorously on her clit and pussy lips, then poked it inside her pussy. She screamed loud enough to crack windows, but obviously liked it, then I jammed the other one deep into her anus—up over the shoulder of the bottle. More screaming, more pleasure, and several more climaxes as I pumped the bottles in and out of her holes. The firey Habeneros were still deep up inside her. Kinkiest thing in my whole life I ever did!!! I was not about to dip my wick back into either of her hot-pepper orifi, so I straddled her chest again, tossed aside the pepper teepees on her nipples, grabbed her inflamed tits, and started rapidly face fucking her, as time was running out fast. Though she was sucking hard, tonguing magnificently, and slurping loudly, I was beginning to wonder if I was going to cum. The beer, the previous superb orgasm in her ass not long before, and more than a little bit of anxiety about getting back to my kids were working against me. I realized I needed her expert hands back into the blow-job equation, so I strained to reach my keys on the counter, and unlocked the thumb cuffs. Raquel needed no prompting, for, with hands free, she leaned forward and put both hands and mouth to work on my aching cock like the pro she was. "I want your cum, I want it bad, Daddy, so baaaaad! I want you to spurt it all over me, all over my face and tongue and boobs." I concentrated with all my might, and when she had my cock deep in her throat making swallowing motions and stuck two wet fingers into my anus, I blew. And did I ever blow! I could swear I heard the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing Handel's Hallelujah Chorus. And Raquel knew just how to prolong the orgasm, using both hands in opposite spiraling motions while pumping me up and down in long, saliva-wet strokes. Semen just kept exploding out in spurt after spurt after spurt all over her face and heaving breasts. What an incredibly long and unbelievably intense climax!!! Raquel just sat there on the floor, gazing up in adoration at my gonna-be-hard-for-a while cock, sucking the last few drops from the tip. "You fucked me just like I wanted, like the total slut that I am. Did you like it, too?" "You could say that," I deadpanned, "But I gotta go, like right now." It was exactly eleven o'clock, the time I was supposed to be home, and it was a several-minute drive there yet. I unlocked the cuffs from her ankles and ran into the den to get my clothes. Raquel, cum streaming down her face and breasts and belly, followed me, opened and took a sip of the last beer, and handed it to me. I suddenly had to piss like a motherfucker! I'd drunk all that beer and hadn't urinated even once, and didn't even know if I could make it to her bathroom, wherever that was, in time. She led me by the hand down a dark hall to it, mentioning on the way that she needed a shower, then, using her body to block the door, clarified that she needed a "golden shower." Now I'd never done that before, but, at that point, I didn't really care WHERE I pissed, only THAT I pissed—IMMEDIATELY! She hopped into the big, old-fashioned tub on legs, kneeled down, and I just let her rip onto to gorgeous, if angry-nippled, boobs. She took Mr. Johnson in hand, and sprayed down to her pussy, then back up to her neck and tits. The fact that I was pissing out like 6 or 7 beers and was still 2/3 hard made it a very lengthy pee. Then she directed the stream onto the lower part of her face, let the pee spatter over her closed lips and chin, closed her eyes, sprayed them, then let the stream run into her ears. She was smiling and obviously enjoying the whole thing, saying, "Ummm, so warm and so good. Your pee is so good, Daddy." Here we go with the "Daddy" bit again! I cannot really say whether or not I was enjoying pissing ON Raquel, as I was just so damn happy to be pissing AT ALL, but it was definitely not turning me off, though. Then, she did something I will never forget as long as I live. She opened her eyes, sprayed down to her pussy and back up across her belly and tits and neck again, opened her mouth wide, let it fill up with piss, and then started swallowing it!!! And she was not forcing it down either, as she gulped it down with relish, like I would a cold Pete's Wicked Ale. I kind of pulled away, but she had me by the dick and kept me in check. I was still pissing strongly, and she gently placed my streaming dick inside her mouth and drank directly from it for another half minute until I had emptied my bladder, finishing with a to-be-expected, "Your pee tastes so good, Daddy. Thank you for saving it for me." Kinky as fucking shit!!!!! It was 11:03 PM. I should have already left 8 minutes earlier, and I was a nervous wreck. With Raquel still in the tub, I gave her a blistering hard good-bye smack on her ass ( I have a policy of not kissing girls with piss on their face) and noticed the pulverized Habanero slipping out her bum. Even then, she was still an absolutely stunning piece of ass. I jumped in my clothes without bothering about underwear, grabbed the cuffs, the rest of the last beer, and my keys, and dashed out of there, yelling, "Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am!" at the door. Her final words? "Great sex! Thanks, Daddy!" I got caught by every light on the drive home, and it was 11:10 when I nervously unlocked my back door, but I was relieved to hear the View To A Kill theme song by Duran Duran from the TV upstairs. I walked in the room, and the credits were rolling. "Perfect timing, Dad," said my daughter, "The movie just ended." Looking at my son, she said, "He fell asleep, as usual, so you both missed a really good movie. Did you have a good time with your friend? What did you do?" Telling the truth but still being evasive, I said, "Oh, we just drank a few beers and fooled around. Time for you all to go to bed." And so I carried my sleeping son to bed, tucked in my daughter, and kissed her goodnight. "You smell funny, Dad," she noted. "Yes, I need to take a shower." The regular kind of shower for me, not the golden kind.