0 comments/  86438 views/  0 favorites

Cure

By: Frans Tooten



"You really have to want it yourself?"

"I do! Otherwise I wouldn't say it."

"And when you want to start with it?"

"Soon. Next weekend?"

"Okay. Yhen I have some time left to arrange some things."

"What kind of things?"

"All kinds of things I'll need. Photo, video and more of that."

"Where will they be processed? I don't like to know that they all see my..."

"No no, don't be worried. Video is ready at the spot and the photo negatives will be sent to a discrete lab. So many are processed there that those people even don't look at them."

"But you know what's the deal! If it doesn't work out once in a while you mustn't start nagging."

"Yes yes, but you too mustn't start stopping. Like me you have to keep strictly to the deal. Or it's nonsense to begin it at all."

"I did promise that, didn't I? Don't be afraid."

"Well, okay. So next Saturday."

The first ten minutes I can only breath heavily. It's obvious I am no fifteen anymore and sitting for years takes its toll now.

For a second I get an image in my head of a passerby looking upwards and seeing up there in that enormous fir the shape of a grown man, laden with cameras and bags. Quickly I force myself to think about something else. How ridiculous it may be, this is the only way to fulfill my 'task' well.

For a week I have spent all my free hours to make preparations. Shopping, scouting the surroundings of the house, this time with completely different eyes than before. Several times I feel like a boy of fifteen who is eager to have his first secret meeting with his beloved.

I quickly discovered that I could be only successful from two corners: the front and the back of the house. I was happy now that Karen always had insisted to get as much light as possible into the house. So no trees or high bushes at the front or back of the house. Her only concession to nature was a high hedge running at the side of the house, alongside the drive to the garage, planted ten years ago and grown into a monster of at least five yards. The side of the house only had one window. My study was there.

As few tress and bushes are in our front and back garden, the more there are across the street, in the front garden of the neighbours, among those a giant fir. Neighbors who don't mind shadows in their house. But they have a second house, situated at the seaside, where they spent most of their free hours. Every Friday the pack their car and every late Sunday they unpack. Good.

When I have again enough air in my lungs I take the wires from the bag, attach them to two branches, pull those apart as much as I can and fasten the wires. At once I have a wide opening giving way to the window at the front of our house.

The curtains are closed, as they always are when night has started. But like always they don't close completely. At the right side the stop still isn't repaired, so often a crack of about 10 inches can be seen. And at the top in the centre the two curtains don't shut well too. Just a too strong pull and the rollers bounce back a bit and a crack shows running more narrow to the bottom, but at the top sometimes can be more than 10 inches. Like tonight. Karen has again closed them nonchalantly. But after all that has been the deal. Act the same as always. With the curtains that is. For the rest I'm very tensed waiting for what will come.

That's something that disappoints me when I look through the telescope of the camera. Alternately I'm peeping through the centre and through the right side and I see karen walking through the room, sometimes sitting down, the rise again and actually not doing anything special. I become impatient, but then I think that she doesn't know if I'm already looking. That was a part of the deal too; everything has to be as normal as can be; she's a woman living alone and she even isn't allowed to know me; to make it even more real I yesterday took a hotel room and only tomorrow I'll come home again. So I have to be patient and wait till she decides to do whatever she wants to.

Something strange is happening in my head. Already an hour I'm peeping at her and more and more she stops to be my own wife. The familiar face, that known body, more and more they seem to belong to another one.

She has loosened her hair and I see her unbuttoning her blouse. Shot. Gotcha! The blouse slides down and is thrown away somewhere. Her breasts are bulging above the white bra. Shot. Something's moving in my old jeans, but at this moment I don't have neither time for it nor interested in it. At last action starts, there across the street in that room.

Ah, I see her sitting on the sofa, leaning backwards lazily. She puts her feet onto the coffee table. Is the TV on? Or a CD? Her hands slowly creep over her bare belly, upwards, over her bra, her breasts. One hand disappears into the bra, the fingers are moving like lazy snakes beneath the white clothe, the other hand slides to the back, the bra's unfastened and slides down. Both hands are lying on the breasts, the fingers spread, two pink brown buttons peep between them into the room. Shot, shot. Oh God, how exciting. Hope no one will pass, see me here and warn the police. Not now.

Her hands move and start a lazy journey downwards. Now, no, she doesn't unfasten the skirt. The hand move lower, over the skirt, the legs, until they are stretched completely. Bit by bit the skirt moves up, until it's half over the thighs. The gingers are caressing the upper side of the legs and then slide to the inner sides, first downwards, then slowly up. Shot.

Now change quickly. The video, not that the real action starts. Zoom in, yes, and run. Rrrt...

Ah, there they disappear. Dammit, why doesn't she lie down onto the sofa, so I see her frontally?! Well, okay, it's just beginning.

A good thing I put on these pants and not a tight one. It's quite some time ago such a thing happened to me. Maybe more than ten years ago. But after all this is very new to me. Such a woman, there on the sofa, who doesn't know someone can see her from a tree. And recording it too! In a minute all the stuff will be off. Swish, down with it. And then...

Dammit, why doesn't something happens. Two hands beneath a skirt, a slight lump beneath the cloth and almost no movement. Come on, girl! Action! Are her eyes opened? Is she looking through the crack of the curtains? Is she suspecting I'm in here? I'll move the camera upwards to see.

Jesus! Her mouth is half opened. Her eyes are shut. That vein in her neck!

Lower. Dammit. Look at those breasts heaving. Lower. Shit oh shit! That belly so tightly bowed. Those legs like staves! No, oh no! Shit, shit, shit!

Well, I'm damned! Resin all over me and that broad goes upstairs. Lights on, curtains closed, all closed. Lights out.

Must it be this? Cunt you are! This way it wasn't meant to be at all. You would...

But actually what would she do? Just as nonchalantly as always closing the curtains and feel herself as free and easy as she could think of. Well, if this is her only way! I didn't see anything! Nothing at all.

Okay, here I am again, in that damned tree. My pants I had to throw away. It had to be cut off my hands when I took it, containing all that resin.

She said I was much too impatient. I didn't have the feeling for the game. That I better buy a tape if I wanted my 'way'. She exactly had kept to the deal and if I didn't like it I just had to stop it all. Moreover it was good practicing for me. Practicing self-restraint.

Okay, okay, I said. It's your game.

So I'm here again, same time, one week later, ready for the action. At the back it could have been a possibility too, but here in the tree it'' more safe. At the back I would be exposed. One of the neighbors at the back possibly could look out of a window.

After some walking up and down she again is lying on the sofa, with her feet on the coffee-table, just like the last time. Only now she's wearing a long dress, with many buttons at the front, which she starts unbuttoning one by one.

For a second I ask myself if I will record it. Last week didn't produce much stuff. A bit of titty works and that it was. I still can become mad because of it.

But this time everything will be different. I feel it. With that long dress and all those buttons. Until at the bottom. Where she now almost has arrived. Come on, ma! Run! Rrrt...

Ah, tha last one. And now open it.

Oh no, please. Not again? Onde hand inside, slide, stop, rub, knead, slide, lower, and lower. Ah, good, it falls open a bit. Rrrt... Oh Jesus, good. No briefs. What's that? Girdle. Stockings. Dark tuft. White thighs. A hand. Shining?

Ah, she rises. I now see her back. The dress slides down. The dress falls down. The dress spreads. Oh Lord, what a broad! What a back! What an ass! Rrrt... Up. Down.

Don't watch that lump. Run, dammit! Now is the moment. She's moving. Sits down. Lifts her legs. Those tight stilts.

But...! No, not that way, hey! The other way round! Turn, dammit! Shit! What's the use of this? Hey! I'm here, do you hear... Leer!

Well, what do you think! She lying with her cleft to the backside. Yes, I can see her hands. And the rest too. But she has to lie differently. Or I'll miss the final act.

Maybe I can...? But before I have climbed down and are standing at the backside... And I even don't know if the curtains at that side give way. Here at the front it's okay, but now she has closed the others as nonchalantly as as well? Let me see. You see! Dark. At the right completely closed. The left I can't see. And from my high position here I can only see one yard at the bottom. But there it's completely dark. So they are closed totally. So I have to stay here. Let me see. Yes, she's still busy with those hands. What a pity. Look how that pevis is turning. Rrrrt... Ah, it's going upwards. One hand goes up, squeezing the one and then the other breast. The other hand I almost don't see, but the arm is moving. And probably the hand too. Wow, how's that shaking! Dammit, what a bad luck for me.

She rises. Takes the dress, pulls it on, but doesn't close the buttons. She moves out of focus. So that it was. The smell of resin make me dizzy. I'm fed up with it. Probably she goes to bed. So I myself too, even if it's in that damned hotel. Pack and be away.

Quite a climb down. Careful. And now watch it nobody's coming. Quickly onto the street. Just have another peep. The light is still on. Quickly use the field glassses. Who knows...

Shit! That curtain at the back isn't closed completely. A crack of about five inches! How's "How's that possible? Or did she pull it...? I don't get it at all. Well, nothing can be done about it. back to the hotel 'Onan'. Have a short look at the tape and then...

"You don't think I know where you are standing, sitting or hanging?!"

"But still you could make some variations? The only thing you are doing is lying down, finger a bit and then go to bed! If you just showed yourself from the other side. Once standing this way or lie and then reverse. What I have recorded until now doesn't mean a shit. A couple of tits and an ass. How's that?!"

"More than what you may offer."

"Oh oh, how funny we are. You know damned well what I mean by it."

"Yes, I do by now. The Mister proposes a game, but when it doesn't go fast enough for his taste or if things happen he hasn't exactly in his head the rules have to be changed. You look like a spoiled child. Patience, my boy. That's what you lack. Wasn't it exciting until now? Well?!"

"Yes, it was, but what I've recorded isn't by far enough. That way it's of no use to us at the rest of the week. Next time..."

"There won't be a next time if you go on like this. You just have to accept that it's going the way it goes. I'm a woman living alone and I like to have a bit of pleasure and I don't have to account for nothing to no one. The curtains are closed and I do in my own house what I like. I stand, lie and sit the place I want to. I also could take the bathroom, you know. Be happy I didn't. In that case you only would have a couple of hours of modern furniture on that tape of yours."

"Okay, I keep quiet. Sorry."

What did she do to me? At the centre the curtains are completely closed. Even the slightes beam of light isn't shining through them. And at the right side only the lower half shows a crack.

I focus my lense and only see half the sofa that is empty, by the way. Why didn't I look first, before climbing that tree? Moron! Will I after all have to go to the backside? Maybe they're closed there too. No, I stay. Who knows? Better something than nothing. I already have that little.

Ah, now I see something. A couple of legs in pants. That's all. Higher nothing can be seen because of that low crack. Oh look! The pants go off. Naked legs, that's all. Oh Jesus, that way it's okay after all. She sits down on her knees on the sofa, her ass greeting me. Very nice. Now those knees a bit apart. Fine, just as if she heard me. Beautiful. Ah, it's already glittering. This will be my night. I see her back and the back of her head. A hand moves between her legs. No, not that way, or it will block my sight. Yes, that's the way, with just one or two fingers. Fantastic.

Hey, why you now move sideways with your ass? Okay, that way I see it again. But where is your head going? Shit! That crack in the curtain better had been one yard higher and five inches wider. I only see your ass, cleft and one and a half of leg. Is the rest floating in the air or what? Ah, the hand leaves. Rrrt... Run for your life! There it is again. Gee gee. One finger inside. Two. Damn, that horrible lump down there.

The hand is gone again. But there it is again, but now from behind. A pity, that way I don't see much. Look, there's the other one. That one moves from the front. Huh, two hands?! How's that possible? It's insane. One finger inside again and the other one of the second hand I see moving up and down over the burron. As if she's working at the circus. Where are her head and upper body? How can she...?

What a glittering. Now the upper one retreats. What a pulsations. The other one keeps on moving. Now everything starts swinging. Yes, there she goes. Anyway better than the two times before.

Why does she keep on sitting that way? It's over, isn't it? Why is she still shaking? What's going on there? I have to fix those curtains. I don't like it anymore this way. Ah, now she stops. She leaves the sofa. Gone. Nowhere to be seen. Shit!

I'm glad to have put our video recorder here in my hotel room. Now I can see the recording on the tape. Have much more than the last two times. Let's see. On the screen it always looks different from the viewfinder. Just the fact that it's color makes it much better. And more horny, of course.

Here we go. Click. Ah yes, there she is. That's to say, those two bulging brothers, because more can't be seen.

Spread. Now it'll start. And as I feel down there at me too. In any case better that it happens here than up there in that damned tree. Hmm, nice that way. Relaxed on the bed, whisky at close hand, Dick in the other one and my own wife's cleft on the screen. What can an man desire more? Well, look with two, but that will come later.

There's her one hand. Oh Jesus, oh Jesus. And now from the other side. And there's the second one.

Her second one?! What kind of second one is that?! Rewind. Again. Push still. What's that? Two fingers, but that lower one is twice the size of the upper one. And no nail polish! How's that?! What's happening there? It won't be?! Oh God...

Take it, dammit, take it.

"Karen? That's you?"

"Yeah, who else? Where are you now?"

"In bed. All the time. Why are you calling? The deal was..."

"Yes, but something strange happened. I was looking at the tape and then I saw a strange hand going over your cleft."

"What's that?! A strange hand. What kind of strange hand?"

"It looked like a male's hand."

"Have you been drinking?"

"No, of course not. I saw it quite clearly. It's on the tape."

"It's the resin of that tree. It's doing something weird to your brain."

"No no, I'm sure as hell. The one finger was twice the size of yours and it didn't have nail polish."

"You're going mad. If you go on like this you'll see a strange prick too. Or do you think I'm here in bed with another guy?"

"Do you?"

"You see! It was you who invented a 'cure' for our sex life and now at the third time you go bonkers. Shall we quit and go on just like in the old days? I think that will be better. It won't work after all. From the start I had my doubts. Come home and then we quit."

"No no, I don't mean it that way. I probably just made a mistake. You are playing it better than I ever hoped for. I already look forward to the next time. I only hope the curtains will then open a bit more. I will go sleeping now. Good night."

"Well, sleep I don't feel coming yet. I just want to play once more with... er... with dildo. I become so horny when I know you are outside and filming me. After all it was a very good idea of yours. Very real. I'm here in my house, a woman living alone and you outside or in your hotel room. Oh how delicious. Oh, how nice. Quickly go sleeping. I'll see you tomorrow. Hmm..."

Cure for a Headache



You are complaining of a headache so I move so that I can stand behind you as you sit in the rocker recliner and begin gently rubbing your temples. My hands rub across your forehead and back to the temples, slowly. I massage your scalp to help relieve the tension, starting at the top of your head and working down to your neck. 

I reach around in front of you and unbutton your shirt so I can slip it off. Allowing me to rub your shoulders better. I massage your shoulders, starting way out on your upper arms and working my way back to your neck. Gently kneading the muscles as I go. When I get to your neck, my hands slip under your hair and massage your scalp again. Working up to the top of your head then back down to your temples.

As I work my way down your head to your neck again, I can feel the tension leaving your muscles, allowing me to massage a little harder. Your head drops forward to give me better access to the muscles in your neck and I use my thumbs to rub from the shoulders up the sides of the spine into your hair. 

I work my hands across your shoulders again. I lean down so I can massage your shoulders deeper and my breasts caress your back. You can feel my nipples through my clothes as they sway against you as I continue your massage. Standing behind you, I can see how this massage is affecting you. I ask you how you are feeling and you tell me that your headache is gone but now you have an ache somewhere else. 

You grab my hand and pull me around so I am standing in front of you. You caress my breasts through my clothes, feeling my nipples getting harder and tighter. You slowly unbutton my shirt and slide it off my shoulders before you undo my bra and let it slide down my arms. You rub your hands across my nipples, massaging them with the palms of your hands, pulling at them with your fingers before pulling me down so you can take them in your mouth. Flicking them with your tongue, sucking them and gently biting between your teeth. Feeling my body shiver as I moan in excitement at what you are doing to me.

My hand drops down into your lap and begins squeezing your cock. Gently squeezing and then releasing, moving up from the base up to the head then back down. I unzip your pants and slip my hand inside to stroke you, pulling you out so I can watch. As beads of precum leak out of the head, I drop to my knees in front of you and collect them with my tongue. You push my breasts together so they are wrapped around your cock as I continue to lick and suck the head. 

My tits are sliding up and down on you, fucking you in that soft warm tunnel. I lick the head of your cock every time it pushes up towards my mouth. Your hands release my tits as you push down on the back of my head, forcing your way into the back of my throat. My tongue rubs back and forth underneath you, caressing you as you go deeper and deeper. Your hands get tangled in my hair as you slide my head up and down on your cock. Moving faster and harder, I can feel your cock swelling inside my mouth as I suck on you. You taste so good. I look up at you, begging you with my eyes to cum for me. Your precum tasted so sweet and salty, I can't wait to feel you flooding my mouth as you explode. I want to feel your hot cum splashing over my teeth and tongue on its way down my throat. 

You have other plans though and with your hands still tangled in my hair, you pull me back to my feet. With one arm around my waist you pull me down so I am straddling you. When we kiss, you can taste your cum in my mouth and remembering the way my mouth felt on you makes you arch your hips so that your cock is pressed tightly against my pussy. Even through my pants I can feel how hot you are and I grind my hips down on you.

Quickly you push me off your lap and begin to undo my pants. I pull you to your feet and start undoing yours as well, wanting us both to be completely naked. As our pants fall to the floor, you reach between my legs and expertly begin massaging my clit with your fingers. My knees are shaking as I wrap my warm, tight fist around you and begin stroking you.

Slowly you lower yourself back into the chair and pull me into your lap once more. As I sit down on you, you hold your cock out with one hand so that it enters me as I lower myself into your lap. The look on your face as you feel my hot wet pussy opening for you is beautiful. I wish I could capture that look forever. Just seeing it causes me to shudder with the knowledge of how much I please you.

Once you are deep inside me, you pull your hand away from your cock and it grazes against my clit. My quick indrawn breathe and the tightening of my body lets you know just how sensitive I am. As you stare into my eyes you continue massaging my clit, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I lean forward and begin tracing your eyebrows and eyelids with my tongue. Letting it trail over your cheekbones and across your nose to the other side. I let it wiggle down your nose to your mouth where it flicks in and out of the corner of your mouth before you capture it in your mouth and suck on it.

Being in the chair this way is awkward for me, as I cannot get the leverage I need to ride you the way I like, pounding against you hard and fast. Your finger against my clit is driving me crazy and all I can do is make rotating motions with my hips. As you feel me burning hotter and tighter against you, you remove your fingers from my clit causing me to cry out in frustration. I love the way you tease me but sometimes regret that you are so good at it!

You pull my head down on your shoulder and rub my back to help me relax some. As you listen to my breathing slow down, you know it is time to begin again. With your feet still on the floor, you push backwards, making the rocker swing into motion. Every time the rocker moves forward I can feel you pushing deeper inside me. I push my upper body as far away from you as possible without falling off you so that you are hitting the back of my pussy with every stroke.

One of your arms is wrapped around my waist to insure that I don't fall but the other is free to rub my nipples. I love the way your large strong hands squeeze my tits but it is the way you pinch and pull at my nipples that causes me to gasp in pleasure and pain. My hips are rotating around you faster now as I slip up and down on your hard cock. You can feel my pussy getting hotter and tighter knowing that I am about to cum. My head is tossing back and forth as one moan after another escapes from my parted lips.

Releasing my nipple from your pinching fingers, you wrap your hand around my neck and pull my mouth down to yours. As your tongue invades my mouth, your hand slips down my stomach to massage my clit. The first touch sends me over the edge and I wrap my arms around you as I call out your name, my pussy pulsing around you. You can feel my cum rolling down your hard thick cock and running over your balls to soak the chair under you. When my orgasm subsides, you push me off your lap and stand up as well.

"Bend over and put your face in the chair," you whisper as you stand behind me. Moaning low in my throat at what I know is about to happen, I do as you request. The second my head touches the seat of the chair; you push the head of your cock inside me. When I try to push back at you, you slap my ass for trying to rush you. The sight of the bright red handprint on my white ass is a turn on like you have never known before so you deliver another stinging blow to the other side. After the initial cry of pain and surprise at each blow, I am once again moaning in delight at what you are doing to me, the feelings you are causing me to have.

Suddenly, your hands grasp my hips and your begin pounding into me hard and fast. My hands are gripping the fabric arms of the chair so tightly I am afraid my fingernails will actually tear them open. I lift my head up until my back is straight and begin rocking back at you, trying to push the pace even faster. Sensing I am once again on the edge of an orgasm, you withdraw from me.

Leaning over my back you whisper in my ear, "You have to beg me to let you cum" before you bite down on my earlobe.

"Please, baby," I beg you, " I love the way it feels when I cum all around you. My hot pussy squeezing your cock so hard and fast, trying to make you cum with me."

"Not good enough," you tell me as you use the head of your cock to rub from my clit to my asshole, spreading my cum even more. Making my body tremble in desire and passion.

"Oh, God, baby," I cry, " I want you to fuck me hard and fast. I need to feel you ramming in and out of my pussy until I explode all around you."

"What's the magic word?" you tease me even more.

I know how much you enjoy when we play that you are the Daddy and I am your baby girl instead of your grown wife. Looking over my shoulder, I can see the slightly evil grin disappear from your face as I whisper, "Please, Daddy." 

Hearing those words, you can't resist any longer and slam deep inside my pussy. I can feel your balls slapping against my clit with every stroke and tilt my hips to allow them better access. We are like animals the way we are pounding away at each other, not conscious of anything but the way we are each feeling and how good it must feel to the other.

"Don't stop fucking me, Daddy," I scream as I cum. "Please don't stop!"

You wrap your hands in my hair and pull my head back as you continue to fuck me. I don't know how you can stand feeling my pussy spasm around you and still hold back but I am soon to find out you have other plans in mind. You slow the pace of your cock as my orgasm ends, leaving only sudden, infrequent tremors like aftershocks of an earthquake.

Pulling your cock from my steaming pussy, you help me stand up. As I lean against you for extra support as my knees are still shaking, your hands caress my face and you gently kiss me. With our tongues sliding together, teasing each other, you lower me to the chair so that I am once again sitting only this time you stand in front of me. Moving your hand around to the back of my neck, you break our kiss and replace your tongue with your cock. Slowly you push past my lips until the head is in my mouth. As my tongue curls around you to stroke the ridge between the shaft and the head, my taste buds explode with the taste of my cum on you.

Moaning, I push my head forward to gain more of you in my mouth. I can feel drops of your precum raining down on my tongue. The way we taste together is indescribable. My hands move down to cup your balls as I continue to suck you into my mouth. I gently rub them with my fingers, hearing you moan as you push deeper into my throat.

You push both hands into my hair at the sides of my face, holding it back so you can watch me. I hold onto your cock with one hand as I allow you to slip from my mouth. Starting at your balls, I slowly wiggle my tongue up you until I am once again at the head. Using the tip of my tongue I tease the slit before working my way back down to your balls. Softly I suck them into my mouth, one at a time, and gently bounce them on my tongue before releasing them. I curl my tongue as far around you as possible and slip my mouth up you again, from the base of your shaft up to the head.

As soon as my tongue rolls over the head of your cock, you surge forward, forcing your way back into my mouth. Using the handfuls of hair you set the pace for my mouth to ride on you, moving from hard and fast to slow and gentle to prolong the feelings. I tilt my head back some so that I can look up at your eyes as you watch me sucking on you. Shaking one hand free of my hair, you gently stroke my face as you begin swelling in my mouth. 

I can feel you starting to twitch and know it won't be long until you cum for me. I slip one hand between my thighs and collect some of the cum from my pussy so that I can rub it into your balls. As my fingers once again close around your balls, a moan is torn from you at the way it feels to have my hot cum rubbed into them. Suddenly I can feel your hot cum as it splashes in my mouth. Moaning, I quickly swallow half of what you have given me but just holding onto the rest as I suck you dry. 

Removing my fingers from your balls I once again slip them across my pussy coating them with my juices before offering them up to your mouth. I watch as you suck them dry and as you lean down to kiss me, I open my mouth to show you the cum I have held there before our lips meet, allowing us to taste our love for each other.



Cure for a Sore Throat



Friday night my wife Dawn came home with a cold. Saturday, I woke up already feeling ill, stuffy head, scratchy throat, etc. Needless to say, we weren't in the mood for sex!

Fast foreword to Tuesday when we were a bit better, though the cold was a stubborn one. The sore throats were hanging on. At dinner my wife was eating olives, and mentioned how good the saltiness felt on her throat. Later that night my coughing got out of hand and suddenly I found myself with hiccups. Mean ones, that hurt! I had a hard time talking, as I would always hiccup harshly. Since I was having such a bad day, I decided to turn in early, and Dawn said she would too. We were soon laying in bed (naked, of course!), with my lovely wife exposing her gorgeous bare breasts to me. I was sure she was looking for some action, but I just wasn't in the mood.

Dawn rolled over onto me, pushing her large naked breasts into me, and said "I bet I can get rid of those hiccups." And proceeded to lick down my body, over my nipples, her hot breath making my nipples harden, pausing just enough to suck each one for a moment, and continued down my body to suck my soft dick into her mouth. She bathed my cock a bit, then wandered down to my nut sack and slowly sucked one into her mouth, knowing that this always gets me really hot. She then sucked the other nut, swirling her tongue around and giving a good amount of suction. Then she abandoned the balls, and went back to her main focal point, my poor neglected cock.

My cock rapidly grew to it's full state of 8" and throbbing into her warm wet lips. She tongued the underside as she applied a good suction to the head, swirling that adventurous tongue all around. Of course the hiccups were long forgotten and I said to her, "Don't stop, I have just the thing for your throat." I knew that after 4 days, I would have enough cum to drown her. She continued to suck my cock, bobbing her head vigorously until she could sense my imminent orgasm. She slowly slid my throbbing pole from her salivating lips and gripped me with her tight fist, keeping a tight hold on my trembling member to keep me from shooting off before she was ready.

Then she bounded up my body to stab my pointed shaft straight into her soaking pussy. I reached down and grabbed her ass, moving her up and down on my engorged stick, letting my fingers reach down to play with her shaved cunt, and felt her copious juices. My fingers wet with her juices, slid around my pecker to find her waiting asshole, which I playfully tickled. I slipped it around her tight hole, getting it really wet with her juice. I couldn't take any more, after days of no sex, I let go with 4 days worth of hot cum deep into her steaming snatch.

I said to her, "Too bad, that was enough cough syrup to cure you for sure." She smiled down at me and said "Well, you have a sore throat too, so enjoy!"

With that, she quickly spun around, my softening cock slipping out of her, and a trail of hot sperm dripped up my body, and before I knew it, I was watching her dripping twat being lowered onto my face! 

I couldn't protest, because she also took my flaccid, sticky cock into her mouth and was doing her best to revive it. She sucked on my soft cock until I could feel it coming back to life, jabbing the back of her throat. I kept my lips closed, even though her sticky, oozing cunt was plastered to my mouth. I could feel lots of thick, sticky cum flowing over my face. It was hot and VERY slick, like a lubricant. It was dripping across my nose, and basically coating my face.

Her mouth was doing a very good job of keeping me hard. I could feel her saliva mixed with my cum dripping down my shaft, and over my balls. She was frantically fucking my face with her sloppy pussy, and the cum was going in my nose and mouth anyway, I could really taste it, so I relented and started eating her sloppy pussy out.

The blow job I was receiving made me so hot anyway, I jabbed my tongue as far in as it would go, feeling my thick semen crawl down my throat.

And you know what? It felt really good on the damn throat! Soon we were both cumming again, I bathed her tonsils with a fresh load, and she added her own to what I was already enjoying. I could feel her pulsing pussy push more of my load from deep within her and onto my searching tongue. 

So, there you have it. If you get a sore throat, not only does this work, it's also fun!!!

E-mail me if this works for you! I'd love to hear your results.



Cure for Insomnia



It doesn't take much to turn me on. I was watching a certain movie about an African who had been captured, led an uprising of slaves on a slave ship, and then had to fight against the repercussions of his actions...starring a certain West African actor. Well, I googled this actor and found his modeling pictures from a certain famous underwear company. 

Needless to say, I'm lying in bed tonight, alone, suffering from insomnia. I keep thinking about hot, muscular, ebony-hued men, in tighty-whiteys. 

And then, my hand drifts down under the covers, grazing the creamy white skin of my chest, lower to my belly, then further toward my inner thigh. And I imagine a strong black hand following that same path.

"Turn over," he says.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach. I know his intentions—he's already got the jar of coconut oil and is preparing to rub me down—but the insinuations are more exciting. I know that before the night is over, I might be turned over for him for another reason.

He starts the gentle kneading of my neck, shoulders, and upper back. I am moaning already, in a completely non-naughty way. That changes as his hands descend to massage my lower back. He firmly strokes the muscles and I am purring like a contented cat. The strokes start lengthening, continuing onto my rounded butt and wide hips.

I can feel my heart rate quicken and hear a catch in his breath as his hands graze the underside of my buttocks. My pussy is tingling in anticipation.

He presses one hand against my bottom while the other pushes down on my shoulders. I know just what he wants. I get on my hands and knees so that my ass is up in the air and then let my shoulders fall back down to the bed. I turn my head to the side and can see his long, thick dick trying to escape the tight, white boxer briefs. More butterflies. More anticipation. 

His oil-slick fingers trace across the crease of my butt and thigh toward my pussy. He slides one finger up and down my slit, teasing, before plunging one, slowly, inside. 

"Push it out," he growls. My pussy clamps down onto the intruder, trying to do as he says. Not because I don't want it there. Not because he doesn't want it there. But because we both know how much harder I'll come if he's fighting the finger against my g-spot. He bites my butt cheeks and I moan deeply, still pressing against his finger. 

"On your back now," he whispers. I quickly roll over and let my legs fall apart. He continues penetrating me with one finger...then two. I am straining to push against his fingers and I can feel my squirting orgasm coming.

"That's it baby, come on me. Come on my face, in my mouth," he demands, leaning forward to lick my clit, just when I think I can't take any more. I explode, screeching in pleasure, pulsing squirts of my juice running over his hand. He continues to stroke me and each pulse, inhibited by his fingers and hand, spray out over my belly, my thighs, his face. I am shaking like a leaf when I suddenly feel his heat and weight held just above me. When I am able, I look up into his face and lean into the kiss that I know is coming. I taste him, myself. He must've taken his underwear off at some point, because I'm still spasming when I feel his hard, hot dick slide into my pussy. He takes his time, swirling and penetrating his dick to mimic the actions of his tongue in my mouth. 

I involuntarily tilt my hips and follow his strokes, wrapping my legs around him, dragging my fingernails down his back. His big hands slide down my sides, over my hips, and under my ass to help drive himself deeper. 

And all the while, I am working hard on that second orgasm, fingers flying over my own pussy, twisting my nipple, chasing one more...who would've thought my fantasy would get me so worked up so quickly?

"I want to come in your pussy," he says.

"But I'm not on the pill," I argue blithely, "And you don't have a condom on..."

I feel him driving harder, deeper.

"I want to come in your pussy," he growls.

"What if I have a baby?" I ask, not caring about his answer. He reaches between us to stroke my clit as he pounds.

"I want to come in your pussy," he whispers, mouth hot and wet against my ear. He plunges his tongue in my ear, traces a line to my mouth and licks my lips. There is nothing but heat and sweat between us. I nod and feel myself come unglued beneath and around him.

He slams into me several more times before growling with a final plunge. I feel my already dripping pussy become sloppy wet with his semen. It is still spasming around his cock and each time it grips him, he grunts and jerks inside me. I don't need to hear him say it. He has just demanded and declared that my pussy belongs to him.

And I'm so sated and sleepy now, that I don't even mind the wet spot I've created in the midst of my fantasy/dream....I just fall asleep with a smile on my face.



Cure For Loneliness



Summer had hit full force, and with it that all-oppressing heat that seems to suck the life out of everything.  At least, that’s the way I feel about this “lovely” place I call home.  Phoenix has its moments, of course, but I’ve always been more interested in gentler, more loving climates.  And that’s why my wife and I were so excited about our trip to Idaho.  My sister lived there with her husband and seven children.  Yes, you heard me right.  She actually gave birth to seven children.  The oldest is twenty and the youngest had her eighth birthday a month ago.  It still amazes me that she could handle so much and live to tell the tale.  

I’ve always been very close to my sister’s children.  I was just finishing kindergarten when I became an uncle for the very first time.  As the youngest of six, I had always wanted a younger sibling.  In fact, I’d always felt this compelling desire to have a little sister.  It was almost as if there was a part of me left unfinished, some empty spot in my chest that longed to be filled.  I’ve told my mother on various occasions that she must have messed things up, that she should have had another child.  

I guess it was that desire that pushed me to be the best uncle ever.  Instead of hanging out with the adults, I played with my nieces and nephews.  No matter how tedious or childish the games were, I always gave them my undivided attention.  I suppose it helped a lot that I was so much closer in age then all of their other aunts or uncles.  Either way, I have a pretty serious bond with all of the kids, and I’m especially close to my seven nieces.  

I’ve often thought about the uniqueness of my relationship with my nieces.  If you were to observe from the outside, maybe see us together going to the movies, you would never guess that I was their uncle.  For one thing, I look too young.  But there’s something a whole lot more significant, and it’s pretty rare to see this between a niece and her uncle.  They literally treat me as if I was their boyfriend.  Now I don’t want you to get any goofy ideas, and start thinking that there was ever anything inappropriate between us.  For one thing, four of my nieces are too young to even be thinking about that sort of thing.  The three oldest, though, are definitely at the age where it seems that the thought of boys is permanently fixed on their brains. 

Anyway, the point is that I love my nieces and am extremely protective of them.  We are physically very affectionate towards each other, and it is not unusual to find them sitting in my lap, hugging me, holding my hand, kissing me, or basically just getting as close as they can.  I guess that these seven beautiful girls have taken the place of the little sister that I’d always wanted, and I have to admit that I’m very happy with the way things have turned out.

Well, I’ll get back to the story now.  My wife and I were invited to spend an entire week up at my sister’s house.  My brother is a translator for one of the big electronics companies.  I think it’s actually Hewlett Packard.  He speaks Italian and some Asian language that I can’t remember at the moment.  Anyway, because of his job, he’s often sent overseas.  My sister invited us to come and keep an eye on the family as she had the opportunity to go with her husband to Japan for the week.  She would never have asked such a thing of us if it weren’t for the fact that her children had been begging her for the past month.  They thought it would be a lot of fun having us there, and it had been almost a year since we’d seen each other.

My wife and I jumped at the chance, even though it would be a bit of work, as the younger children could get a little wild.  Either way, we were really excited to get out of the heat and I couldn’t wait to see my nieces.

“I’m sorry Jason.  I just can’t get the time off.  Three employees have either quit or been fired this past week, and there isn’t enough to go around.”

It felt as though Jewel had just dropped a rather heavy, dense object on my head.  How could this happen to us?  Here we were looking forward to a nice vacation and her District Manager wouldn’t give her the time off.  

“You can’t just call in sick?”

“I don’t think she’ll go for the idea of me planning for a week of sickness – especially when it happens to be the same week that I requested off.”

“I know, Jewel.  I’m just a little desperate here.  How about I call in and tell her that you’ve been kidnapped or something?  I could even steal you myself.  That way, it wouldn’t be a complete lie.”

“Look, my love.  Why don’t you just go without me?  You already have the time off from work, and I know how much family wants to see you.  Besides, I don’t think your sister will be able to find anyone else at this point.”

Now, I hadn’t even thought of that.  Sometimes my wife amazed me with her generosity.  But how could I possibly go off and have fun for an entire week while she suffered at her job?  It felt pretty wrong.  On the other hand, though, we had promised to help my sister.  And I knew that my wife was right about my family being disappointed if at least one of us didn’t show up.

“You’re kidding, right?  How could I be away from you for an entire week?  You’ll get so horny that you’ll intentionally break something just to get a repairman to come by.”

Jewel laughed at that, although she purposely put this little twinkle in her eye as if to say, “That’s exactly what I’m planning.”

“There’s really nothing to argue about Jason.  It’s settled.  You’re going to Idaho without me and I’ll try not to break too many things while you’re gone.”

And so that’s how I found myself in my sister’s house, reading through this “ten-page” list of things that I had to know about.  It sure is complicated running a home with seven children, especially when you add to the mix all of the animals and neighborhood friends.  All the same, I was pretty excited to be there.  

My first day was Monday morning.  After a quick flight and a little drive from the airport, it was about 10 o’clock.  I received the usual hugs and kisses and stories about insignificant things that had just happened.  It seemed to me that they’d been having a pretty fun summer, and I only hoped that I could help to make things even better.

My oldest niece is Kalie, and she’s about nineteen.  The second oldest is Heidi and I suppose she’s around eighteen.  I’m not very good on keeping track of all the birthdays, especially considering how big my family is.  I have to admit that I was pleasantly surprised when I saw those two.  I mentioned earlier that it had been about a year since we’d seen each other, and it’s really amazing what a year can do.  Heidi had grown her hair long, learned how to use the makeup a little more sparingly, and found a few curves that I didn’t know were possible.  

Kalie, on the other hand, was as amazing as ever.  I’m not exaggerating when I say that she knew how to seduce a man from birth.  She’s one of those naturally flirty women, although you could never point to anything specifically and say, “There!  That’s flirting!”  I just couldn’t quite figure her out.  Every way that she moved, talked, touched, and looked at me screamed sexuality.  She was like that for as long as I could remember, so it was something that I just tried to go along with.  It’s pretty hard, though, considering how amazingly beautiful she is.  She’s a blond with naturally rosy, full lips, and a blush to her cheeks that seems to be a permanent fixture.  I don’t know much about the complexity of breast sizes, but hers were constantly at attention, swaying as she moved, never letting you keep your eyes away for even a second.  How could a child be so voluptuous?         

And then there was the way she dressed.  I might have been able to control my hormones if she’d walked around in a tent, but that was far from reality.  I think she probably borrowed her eight-year-old sister’s T-shirts.  I could just see her in her bedroom at night, cutting her clothes away from her body with scissors.  There couldn’t have been any other way to remove them.

I lied earlier about there being seven children to take care of.  My oldest nephew was actually in another country for the summer, working in some type of internship.  I usually spent a lot of time doing things with him as our interests mirror each other.  With him out of the picture, I spent most of my day hanging with Kalie and Heidi.  With Heidi, though, it was a touch-and-go sort of a thing.  She had a boyfriend, or two or three, and was in and out of the house regularly.  I think she was loving the fact that her parents were gone for a week, and especially loving that I could be won over so easily.  I really was a softy when it came to my little nieces.  I’d do most anything for them if they asked.  

“Jason, would you be upset with me if I had Todd come over for dinner tonight?”

That was Heidi, of course.  She did that twinkling-eye thing to try and soften me up.  I might have resisted if she hadn’t also plopped down in my lap and thrown her arms around my neck.  I could feel her left tit rubbing into my chest, and it was with a great deal of control that I kept myself from getting hard.  I really didn’t want her to freak out and run screaming from the room.  So, I said yes as fast as I could and then suggested that she could help with the dinner.

Todd was about as stupid as they come.  I’d like to say that all he could do was play sports, but I’m not sure he had enough sense to even figure that out.  He was intelligent enough to lift weights, though, and I’m pretty sure that was about the only thing that grabbed Heidi’s attention.  She was a sucker it seemed, for big muscles.  

Kalie and I sat together through dinner and we couldn’t help but make fun of the guy the whole time.  It really was a lot of fun, and he was such an easy target.  The best part was that Kalie would touch me every time she laughed.  It started out with just a light tap on the arm or a squeeze of the hand.  After a while, though, and as her laughter increased, she would gently squeeze my left leg under the table.  I knew she meant nothing by it, but my cock didn’t seem to care one way or the other.  

And that’s when I thought of Jewel all by herself.  I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing, and I had to laugh to myself as I had a mental picture of her tampering with the cable connection.  Yes, it used to be the milkman, but these days it’s the cable guy.

“What’s so funny?”

I guess that I’d laughed out loud, as Kalie poked me in the ribs and had that questioning look in her eyes.

“Oh, I was just thinking about Jewel.”

“Oh no.  I’m so sorry Jason.  I didn’t even think about how you’re not going to see each other for the whole week.  Have you ever been apart that long?”

“No, not really.  Actually, I think we’ve only been away from each other one night in the year or so that we’ve been married.”

“Wow.  You must be really lonely.”

“Oh, no.  It’s all right.  I mean, it’s only my first day.  Besides, I have you to keep me company, right?”

She smiled at that and placed her hand delicately above my knee.

“Yes, but there are some things that only Jewel can do for you.”

It was at that point that I choked on some of my dinner.  Kalie took her hand away, laughing at how embarrassed I had become.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly enough.  We got in a few more digs at Todd’s intelligence, and the rest of the kids caught on to what we were doing and had to join in.  All in all, it was a pleasant evening.

“Hey uncle.  Todd and I are going for a walk, ok? We should be back in an hour.”

“Sounds good to me.  Be back in an hour, though, so that I don’t worry about you.”

“All right.  Bye!”

My sister’s house is rather large, and as is customary in Idaho, included a basement.  The basement consisted of two bedrooms, a playroom, and a living-type room.  There was also a large laundry/storage area.  At the end of the storage room are a set of steps that lead up to the garage.  Normally we spend most of our time in the basement, but for some reason we ended up watching a movie in the upstairs entertainment room.  About fifteen minutes into things the kids starting talking about how great it would be to have some popcorn, and how perfect it would be if I were to make it happen.

So, I went downstairs to rummage through the basement where they kept the snacks.  As I was looking through the shelves I heard a noise coming from the garage and decided to go and check it out.  I assumed that it was just one of the cats, or maybe even their dog.  I slowly climbed the stairs, trying not to make any noise.  I guess in the back of my mind I was envisioning some burglar trying to break in.  That’s what I get for living in the big city.  As my eyes reached the level of the floor, I carefully peeked into the dim light of the garage.  

That was no cat, dog, or burglar that I saw.  In fact, it was a little disappointing.  I saw the backside of Todd.  You might be wondering, as well as I was, just how he got in the garage when they were on a walk.  It was only a second later that I realized what I was seeing.  He turned a little and I caught sight of Heidi.  My heart sped up to dangerous levels as I realized that my niece was slowly removing her clothes.  Todd was standing there, just as I was, getting the best show of his life.

Heidi had already removed her shirt and pants and I could see what I’d only dreamed about before.  Her panties and bra were a matching baby blue color.  She was slowly turning around, dancing to some imagined song.  I could see the fullness of her ass now and she reached back with both of her hands and caressed herself there, pulling the cheeks apart while bending at the waste.  I couldn’t help but wonder where she’d learned to dance like that.  Todd had unzipped his pants and I supposed that he was jacking off, though I couldn’t see the front of him to tell.  I know that if I was in his position, then that’s where my hand would be.  

And that’s when I remembered where I was and what I’d gone to the basement for.  But I just couldn’t pull myself away, especially since Heidi had turned back around and removed her bra.  Oh wow, but she had some amazingly huge tits.  Her nipples stuck out about an inch and she ran them both through her fingers as she wet her lips.  She was looking into Todd’s eyes as she slid one of her hands down her stomach and into the front of her panties.

They were both masturbating in front of each other and I was wanting more then anything to join in the fun. 

“Jason, what are you doing?”

I just about fell back down the stairs as I saw Kalie below me.  She had whispered her question, thankfully, and so Todd and Heidi couldn’t possibly have heard.  My mind was spinning in about every direction it could go.  What could I do to get out of this one?  I decided that I’d just be bold, mature, and honest about the whole thing.  So, I put my finger to my lips and gestured for Kalie to join me.  She slowly climbed the steps and had to go one higher so that she could see what was happening.  When she looked over the edge a gasp escaped her lips and she grabbed my left arm firmly.  Her eyes were about twice the size as she watched her mostly-naked sister playing with herself. 

“I can’t believe it.”

“I know.  I heard a noise and I thought that maybe it was a cat or something.”

We were whispering in each other’s ears and I couldn’t help but feel tingles up my spine every time she brought her lips close to me.

“We’d better get out of here before anyone else decides to come get the popcorn.”

“You go ahead uncle.  I’m learning some good stuff here.” 

Kalie gave me a smile and a wink at that and then nudged me back down the stairs.  I couldn’t help but look back at her in disbelief, but she had already looked away and had her gaze fixed on the amateur porn film in front of her.  I hurriedly found the popcorn and then went back upstairs before any of the other children started snooping around.

It wasn’t for another thirty minutes till Kalie came walking back into the room.  She had this smug, satisfied smile on her face as she slid down next to me on the couch.

“Well?”

She had hugged my left arm with both of hers and had her head leaning on my shoulder.  I could feel very distinctly the pressure of her right breast, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it compared to Heidi’s.  

“Well what?”

“You know.  How are the animals?”

“Oh, I’d say a little worn out from their walk.”

I let it go at that and we went back to watching the movie.  My thoughts were on other things, though.  I couldn’t help but replay in my mind the image of my niece’s body.  I wish that I had been there long enough to see her completely naked, but I guess it never hurts to leave a little bit to the imagination.  And then the thought came to me again.  “What would Kalie look like in that situation?”  The question haunted me as we sat there cuddling in the soft light of the television.  It was a question that I had often wanted the answer to.  I just couldn’t help it, and I knew that it was wrong.  How could I think such things about a girl that I held as a baby?  How could I feel sexual attraction to my sister’s child?  What kind of a freak was I?

I went to bed that night with feelings of guilt and fear.  The guilt was pretty obvious, but the fear had me wondering.  After lying there a while, I determined that I was afraid of doing something that I would regret.  I was terrified that I would let my hidden desires slip out in some way.  I felt so weak and so completely consumed with lust for my niece, that I didn’t know if I had the ability to watch myself.  How could I make it through a week of this if I was already crumbling the first day?  If only Jewel was with me, then I’d be able to satisfy my sexual urges.  At least, I’d be satisfied enough to avoid a disaster.  But she wasn’t there, and I just had to be strong on my own.

It was about midnight when I finally gave up on sleeping.  There were just too many things going through my head.  I’ll leave it to you to decide which “head” I speak of.  I had my bed set up in the basement playroom and so I delicately climbed the stairs to get to the kitchen.  I say “delicately” because the stairs tend to creek a bit too much.  

As I reached the top of the stairs I was surprised to find Kalie walking from the kitchen into the entertainment room.  I could see that she had some snacks and was probably on her way to catch a late-night movie.  What jumped out at me the most, though, was that she was wearing nothing but a tiny little shirt that stopped short of covering her lower anatomy.  She had panties on, but I knew that was the only form of undergarment that she was wearing.  I could clearly see the point of her nipples pushing into the shirt.  Her tits seemed so much more alive this way, and if it was hard to divert my eyes before, it was absolutely impossible at this point.  I’d gone to the kitchen to clear my head and found that I’d walked into the lion’s den.  Worst of all, I think she’d noticed the way I looked at her body. 

“Hello Jason.  You can’t sleep either, huh?”

“Nope.  I was hoping that a little bit of food would help.”

We had to whisper to each other so that we wouldn’t wake anyone in the house.  Getting everyone to bed the first time was a nightmare and it was not something that I cared to try again.

“Well, then you can join me.  I have enough snacks here for both of us and I don’t want to get fat trying to eat it all.”

I couldn’t be rude and say no, but believe me I just wanted to get out of there as fast as my legs could take me.  Have you ever been in a house late at night with a half-naked goddess?  Think about it.  Your spouse is a days drive away, no one is awake, and you’re with a woman that can seduce you by simply breathing.  My legs were a bit shaky as I followed her to the couch.  She set the food down on a coffee table that she then scooted a little closer where we were sitting.  She had to lean over a bit to do this and I could clearly see the back of her panties.  They were a lighter color, thought I couldn’t tell what exactly because of the darkness.  




Cure For Loneliness



We sat down together and my attempt to keep some distance between us was fairly ineffective.  She immediately crunched herself into my right side and wrapped her left arm around my back.  Her right arm went across my stomach and then she clasped her hands together, successfully locking me in place.  She only stayed like that for a moment as we had forgotten the remote.  

“Don’t you move.  I’ll get it.”

She’d jumped up and ran to the television where the remote was hiding.  On her way back to the couch I couldn’t help but look once more at her beautiful chest and the firmness of her legs.  She definitely caught me that time and I swear that her face became even more flushed then it usually was.  I couldn’t help but feel really stupid at that point and I committed to being more careful from then on.  

She turned the TV on and as usual it didn’t seem that there was anything playing.  It’s really quite amazing that out of hundreds of different channels, there’s never anything you want to watch.  She had been flipping through the shows for a few minutes when she landed on one with an awful lot of skin showing.  It wasn’t long before we realized that it was an adult-type movie.  

“Hey.  So Uncle, does this remind you of anything?”

She said that while laughing and poking me in the side.  Of course she was referring to the entertainment we’d seen in the garage a little earlier.  But the crazy thing was that instead of changing channels after making her joke, she kept it there.  In fact, I was starting to get this panicky feeling that she had no desire to watch anything else.

“Um.  Kalie.  Aren’t you going to try and find a good movie?”

“Yeah.  I just did.”

There was that smile again.  You know, I think all women must sit in front of the bathroom mirror and practice that thing.  

The movie was really quite steamy, and although it wasn’t totally explicit, it came pretty darn close.

Kalie still had her left arm around my back at this point, with her head resting on my right shoulder.  I couldn’t see where her right hand was though, as her head blocked my view.  We were watching for about five minutes when I noticed that she was moving just a bit too much.  I tried to determine what was going on but all I could see was that her right shoulder was moving.  I knew that she was doing something with her hand or arm, but I still couldn’t see what.  Curiosity got the better of me and I sat up a little straighter on the couch, moving her head from my shoulder temporarily.  

I couldn’t believe it when I saw that her right hand was down the front of her panties.  She hadn’t noticed me looking, or at least that was my hope.  Here I was watching some softcore porn movie with my half-naked beauty of a niece fingering herself.  I thought to myself that I’d either gone to heaven or hell, but either way I should just go with the flow.  I wasn’t about to do anything but sit perfectly still and keep my hands to myself.

“Jason, do you really miss your wife?”

“Of course I do.”

Panic bells were going off in my head and I could see all sorts of terrible things happening.  I wanted to jump up off of the couch and lock myself in the bathroom for a cold shower, but the warmth of her body paralyzed me.  She took her arm out from behind my back and then lay down on the couch with her head in my lap so that she was looking up into my eyes.  Her legs were bent at the knees and sticking up in the air so that her shirt was up above the top of her panties.  I couldn’t help but gaze longingly at her smooth, tanned legs.  

“Jason.  You know you’re the best uncle ever.”

Oh now that was exactly what I needed to hear.  I felt so guilty for all of the thoughts that I was having and I was brought back to the truth of things in a second.  I was her uncle.  I had changed her diapers, helped her learn to walk, talk, and read.  I was the one that she trusted.  I was her friend.  How could I be such a jerk?

“You just have this one little thing wrong with you.”

I was a little surprised by that comment.  I mean, was she talking about how I’d drooled over her body?  I had hoped that she didn’t really see the way that I’d looked at her.  I felt like I was waiting for some explosion to go off as she lay there looking into my eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“Ok, but you have to promise not to get mad or anything.”

I went ahead and crossed my heart and then she made me do a pinkie-swear.

“All right.  The one thing that’s wrong with you is that you’re a chicken.”

Well now that was a bit of a surprise.  Of all the things that I envisioned coming out of her mouth, that was about as far as it gets.

“I’m a chicken?  Why do you say that?”

“Oh come on Jason.  I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.  I’ve seen the way you stare at my body.  I feel the nervousness when we sit together.  I can tell how you tense up when I push my breasts into you.  And it’s pretty obvious that I get you hard.  And yet, you don’t have the guts to do anything.  You miss your wife, and she’s not anywhere near here, yet you don’t have the courage to do anything.  So what if we’re related.  It’s not like we have the same parents and who cares if we did.  I say that if we want to play around, and we both agree to it, then why not?  You know that you want me, and you’d have to be stupid to not notice how I’ve flirted with you all these years.”

I don’t think that I could have been any more amazed then I was at that point.  I hadn’t guessed at her saying any of that, although it made perfect sense.  She really had been hinting at things for a long time now.  I was just too stuck on tradition to let myself go in that direction.  She had placed her hand on my cheek and was caressing it gently.  She then took my hand in hers and placed it on her right breast.

“I can feel your cock beneath me.  We both know that I’ve made you hard.  I want you to touch me everywhere.  Feel my body.  Feel how horny I am for you.”

She whispered this last little bit as she took my hand from her breast and brought it down to the elastic of her panties.  She plunged my hand beneath the silky material and I could feel the wetness of her cunt.

“Oh, that’s it.  I want you to keep touching me there.  Put your finger inside of me and feel how wet I am.”

She quickly sat up and pulled her shirt up over her head.  And here I thought that Heidi’s tits were awesome.  Kalie’s were bigger then my hands could hold and just about as firm as was possible.  I took my left hand and caressed her breasts as my other hand continued to feel the folds of her pussy.  She ground her hips into me, trying to get me to apply more pressure.  Then she reached up with both of her hands and brought my face down to meet hers.  Our tongues touched and we began to kiss in the most furious, breathless manner possible.

Before I knew what had happened she was on the floor in front of me.  She grabbed the top of my pajama bottoms and made me sit up so that she could pull them from my body.  Then she tackled my shirt and I was naked before her.  She stood up and slowly removed her panties with her back facing me.  I could see the lips of her pussy, enlarged and inviting - even glistening from the moisture of her arousal.  Her ass was full, firm, and screaming for attention.  I leaned forward and gently kissed her behind as she leaned forward, resting her hands on the table.  

“Would you lick my pussy?”

Now how could I deny such a request as that?  I brought my tongue to her hole and gently pushed inside.  Her moans of pleasure encouraged my exploration and so I continued to lick and suck until I found that spot that caused her to spasm before me.  Her breathing was ragged and her legs were shaking from the orgasm.  She slowly turned around to face me once again and I took the opportunity to lightly massage her tits.  The nipples were so hard that I had to be careful, as I could tell just how sensitive she was at the moment.

“Are you ready to be inside of me Uncle Jason?  You’re not going to chicken out on me now.  I’m going to screw you so hard that you’ll wake up the whole house when you cum.”

She then straddled my legs and took my cock in her right hand.  She played with it for a few moments, gently stroking it up and down.  Then she leaned forward and placed it at the entrance to her cunt.  I was expecting a gentle beginning, but she pushed down as fast and as hard as she could.

“Oh, yeah, but I love to feel you inside of me.  That’s it, grab my ass as I ride you.”

She was literally jumping up and down, pounding into me as though she were trying to pop a balloon between us.  She squeezed my dick with the walls of her cunt, milking me for all I was worth.  Her tits were bouncing dangerously before my eyes.  After a few minutes of that she decided to straddle me facing in the opposite direction.  I could see my cock entering between the cheeks of her ass.  It was incredible to watch as the outer walls of her cunt were hanging onto me, refusing to let go.  She leaned forward as far as she could go while still keeping me inside of her.  Her ass lifted off of me and then pounced back down over and over.  

“Oh, Jason.  Please put your finger inside of my ass.  Yeah, just like that.  Now pull it out.  Mmm.  That feels so good.  Keep doing it.  Wow but I never knew how good it could be.”

That was as far as I could go with all of the stimulation that I had received.  I guess I should be happy that I made it through anything, as fiery as Kalie was.

“Ok Kalie.  I can’t take anymore.”

“All right.  I want you to cum inside of me.  Don’t worry.  I won’t get pregnant or anything.  I just want to be connected to you and feel the warmth of it as it squirts inside my body.”

Now that was way too much for me to hear and so I shot my load into her as I reached underneath and squeezed both of her tits in my hands.  She continued to push back into me until I had to pull her away from too much pleasure.  She sat in my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me gently on the cheek.

“Wow.  I guess I was wrong after all.  You’re not much of a chicken.”

And there was that smile again.  Someday I’m going to have to learn how to do that. 

That’s the end to this particular event, or at least the end to the chapter of a rather interesting book.  As I’ve mentioned in previous stories, I have the pictures of the women I’m writing about.  If you’re interested in getting a visual aid, then just drop me a line.



Cure For The Blues



It had been a long, hard day, and I was, quite frankly, deep in the dumps as I drove home that Thursday night. 

I knew the price of success was days like this, but I was on the verge of tears, from exhaustion and loneliness. 

Let me back up a second, and tell you a little about myself and my situation. 

My name is Anne and I just turned 45 a couple of months ago. Physically, I am about as average as can be. I'm 5-6 and slender, thanks to a regular exercise routine at a local health club. My breasts are average, my hips are narrow and my butt is nice, but nothing outstanding. I've always been told I'm cute, with blue eyes and blonde hair that I wear just to my shoulders. 

At the present time, I am an assistant district attorney in a medium-sized city. I love the law, and I love being a prosecutor, but sometimes the workload and some of the cases I have to deal with can be wearing. This was one of those times. We were in the middle of a difficult murder case in which nothing was cut-and-dried. I won't go into the gory details, but a woman had shot her husband, and she was claiming self-defense after a long history of abuse. I was having a hard time making a case for first-degree murder, even though it had clearly been a premeditated attack, largely because the S.O.B. had, in fact, spent 20 years terrorizing this woman. 

We were putting in long hours, so I wasn't getting enough rest. Emotionally, I was conflicted over this case. And to top it off, my husband was overseas on an extended business trip. He owns a very successful agricultural supply company, and he was in the midst of difficult negotiations over a new line of products from a Russian manufacturer. He had been gone for three weeks, and wasn't due back for another week. 

I honestly didn't know if I could stand another week without him. I needed his moral support right then, and he wasn't there for me. I knew how important this trip was to the business, and I certainly understood the necessity of him being gone. But, still, I was feeling blue and a little resentful that he wasn't there when I needed him. 

You have to understand, Bill is the rock of my life. I'm not bragging when I say that we have one of the great love stories. We met when we were in college, at a sorority mixer. The irony is that we went to different colleges that are fierce rivals, but my sorority and the chapter of his fraternity at my college were sort of a pair. We were both a little out of the social mainstream, in that we were more interested in a well-rounded education, not to mention that we threw the best parties on campus. 

OK, I'll admit it, we were the hellraisers, and the DGs and Chi-Os of the world looked down their noses at us, which we considered a mark of distinction. But we studied as hard as we partied, and our overall GPA was always - always - the best of any sorority on campus. That's because we weren't as concerned with getting the richest, best-looking, most well-connected girls as we were in getting smart girls who were independent thinkers and who were fun to be around. 

Anyway, I met Bill before the big game between our schools my junior year. He had grown up on a farm, so he was quite well-built from years of hard work, but he was a business major. I have to say, in my case, that it was love at first sight. I don't know what it was about him, because there is nothing about him that jumps right out at you. He's not especially handsome; he's not ugly, just not somebody who takes your breath away, and he's not a big guy, standing maybe 5-10, if that. And he wasn't particularly outgoing, not somebody who attracts attention. 

But he did have a very quiet sense of self-assurance that I picked up on right away. He knew who he was, what he was, and what he wanted to be. We clicked right away, and within a month, we were burning up the 100 miles between our campuses, and we were married right after graduation. 

One of the things that has always endeared him to me was the way he supported me through law school. He worked as a salesman, and I mean he worked his butt off, to make the money to put me through school. It never occured to him to be jealous over the fact that when I finished, my social standing as a lawyer would be a good bit higher than his, at least initially. We were partners, and that's the way it's been ever since. Along the way, we had a son and a daughter, both of whom are in college at present. We get a big kick out of the fact that our son is going to his father's university and our daughter is going to mine. 

So I was feeling desperately blue that night. I had worked late, not leaving the office until after 7 o'clock. I was tired, lonely and feeling miserable. As I drove home, in a cold late-spring drizzle, I almost decided to stop at a restaurant to eat dinner and have a couple of drinks to unwind, but I was really too down. Boy, am I glad I didn't. 

I pulled my car into the garage, got my briefcase and headed to the door, when I got the first surprise. Our alarm system had been deactivated. I was immediately suspicious, and a little fearful. As an ADA, I've had my life threatened before, and I was absolutely certain that I had put the alarm on when I left that morning. 

I opened the door warily, and was greeted by the aroma of something good cooking in the oven. I could also detect the smell of wood burning in the fireplace. I tried to still my beating heart, not yet willing to accept what I suspected. The kitchen was empty, however, so I crept through the house to the den, and there, standing by the fireplace, a glass of wine in his hand, was my beloved husband. 

I squealed in delight, and of course, he quickly put the wine glass down, and we hugged and kissed deeply. This was a surprise beyond anything I could have expected. In fact, I was crying as a result. My Bill was home, and just at the moment when I'd needed him most. 

When we finally pried ourselves apart, he explained that he had decided he needed a break from dealing with the Russians, and he hadn't told me he was coming home, because he wanted to surprise me. He'd have to go back in a few days, but he was home now, and that was all that mattered. 

I could feel myself getting wet between my legs as we talked. It had been three weeks since I'd had sex, and I was in dire need. I don't generally masturbate when Bill is gone, preferring to save up my lust for when he returns, but I had been vaguely considering it during my ride home, that's how bad I'd been feeling. 

We were both feeling the nervous jitteries that we always get when we haven't had sex in awhile and we know we're going to be doing it soon. 

But first we had a delightful candlelight dinner, and we talked about what had been going on the previous three weeks. This has always been one of our rituals at dinner, telling each other about our days. Truthfully, I really couldn't care less about the latest line of tractors, and I know he gets bored hearing about all of the miscreants I deal with on a daily basis. But it's a way of purging ourselves of the burdens of our work, and it's a matter of love and respect that we listen to each other as if the other's concerns are the most important things in each other's lives. 

We had finished eating and clearing the table. It is part of my meticulousness that I instinctively started rinsing the dishes to put in the dishwasher, when Bill came over, shut off the water, turned me around, brought me close and laid his lips onto mine in a deep, soul kiss that spoke volumes. I could feel his hardness burrowing into my abdomen as we kissed the same way we had the first time we'd made out, way back in college. 

"C'mon," he whispered. "We can do this later." 

I wasn't about to argue with him. We held hands as we climbed the stairs to our bedroom. But instead of heading straight to the bed, Bill walked into the big master bathroom and started to fill the bath. He got the water just right, then picked up the bottle of bath oil and poured half the bottle in. 

My pussy lurched and I could actually feel the flood of juice trickle from my hole at this. Bill knows how much I love a sexy bath, and the feeling of the bath oil on our bodies. I knew right then that I was in for a delightful evening. 

Bill's cock was already semi-hard when he shut the water off and climbed in, before helping me in. Like the rest of him, Bill's cock is very average in size, probably 6-1/2, maybe 7 inches, and sizable, but not overly fat. But, my God, does he know how to use it. From the first time to today, I've never even thought about sex with anyone else. He says he never has either, and I believe him. He's stayed in very good shape, and he has a wildly inventive imagination. There is nothing we haven't done together sexually, and I had a feeling we were going to go through the whole gamut tonight, and if not tonight, sometime before the weekend was over. 

We got in the bath and just held each other, soaking up the effect. I could feel all of my tension melt away as I sat between his legs and laid my head back on his chest. 

"God, I love you so very much," I whispered. I say that to him every day we're together, but I never get tired of saying it, and if he ever gets tired of hearing it, he's never let on. 

"I love you too," he answered. "You know, sometimes I still have to pinch myself to make sure I've really got you." 

"Baby, you've got me forever, beyond forever," I said. 

I slid down my husband's chest, closed my eyes and let my hair dangle in the water, while Bill squeezed the water from a sponge over my breasts. My nipples were already hard in anticipation, and even as the thought crossed my mind, I felt his gentle touch on my tits. He softly squeezed each breast, then lightly rolled each pink nipple around as I groaned lustily. I have very sensative nipples and I love having them played with. 

As I lay back in the water, I could feel Bill's stiff rod poking my back, and I could feel the tingle in my pussy that told me I couldn't wait much longer. I pulled myself up, swung around and brought Bill to me, sort of scissoring our legs together. We kissed deeply, passionately, trying to make up for the three weeks we'd been apart. I could see his cock poking up from between my legs as we each sat up in the bath. I took it in hand and stroked it, feeling its spongy hardness. 

We didn't wait, couldn't wait. I sat up on the edge of the tub, my skin shining from the water and bath oil. I spread my legs, ran two fingers through my pussy, opened myself up and told Bill to, "please, God, fuck me!" 

It was pretty obvious that he was feeling the effects of three weeks without sex, as much as I was, because he stood up, then kind of squatted a little bit, so that he was between my legs. He ran the head of his cock between my lips a half-dozen times, just to make sure my juices were flowing good, then he slid his cock all the way up me in one glorious thrust. 

We both gasped in supreme pleasure as his cock filled my aching pussy. I wrapped my legs around his waist and drew him in, even as he encircled my chest with his arms. We've spent 25 years having sex together, and I can't recall when he ever felt better than he did right at that moment. I guess maybe it was just the whole situation, with me having been so down and being so delightfully surprised by his unexpected return. 

All I know is that I was hurtling on a fast track to an orgasm of massive proportions. I humped my slick hips back and forth on the side of the tub, while he jackhammered my pussy with hard, fast strokes. Lewd noises of pleasure filled the bathroom as we sloshed water all over the floor. I had to grip the side of the tub to keep from slipping onto the floor. I didn't slip onto the floor, which might have caused a serious injury, but I did slip enough so that his cock fell out of my cunt. 

No matter. I turned around so that I was kneeling on the entry step to the tub, and Bill rammed his cock hard into me from behind, so hard it pushed the air out of my lungs. While he grabbed my hips to pull me back and forth on his cock, I reached under my body and strummed my clit, sending sparks of sensation through my entire body. 

I was getting closer, closer, closer, and just as I was teetering on the brink, I felt Bill's cock swell, and with a grunt and a gasp, he exploded in a fountain of hot cum. That sent me tumbling over the edge into a tumultuous orgasm. I shook, I shimmied, I squealed and I wailed. I used my abdominal muscles to squeeze every drop of cum from my husband's still-spurting dick as we slid down the mountain of lust. 

And when he was finally finished, he slid his cock from my hole, knelt down behind me and sucked every bit of his cum out of my pussy, lapping it up like a cat, then licking up my cunt and around my clit. That triggered a small mini-orgasm, like an aftershock, and I trembled from its effect. Then I swiveled around and we sat back down in the bath, our chests heaving. The whole thing may have taken five minutes from start to finish, but it was the best five-minute fuck session I think I ever enjoyed. We kissed again, a long, languid kiss that spoke of satisfaction, but also of continued arousal. We weren't done yet, not by a long way. 

We slid back into the cooling water, holding each other tight for awhile, then we got out, dried off and went into the bedroom. 

"I think you missed me," I teased him as we lay in bed. He was on his back, his arm around me as I leaned on an elbow and traced little circles on his chest. 

"You just don't know," he said. "It's funny. The Russians are all the time trying to get me to go to these strip clubs, trying to hook me up with these whores, and they look at me like I'm crazy when I decline. Until I show them a picture of you and I tell them that that's what's waiting for me at home. Then they understand." 

"I love you," I whispered. "You don't know what this means to me. I was feeling so down, and then to see you home. I'm a very lucky lady to have a man like you." 

And I kissed him again, my passion beginning to build again. But Bill was still a little ways off from being ready to go again, and he had something special he wanted to do for me. He got up on his knees and told me to roll onto my stomach. I purred, because I knew what was coming. And, sure enough, he started massaging my shoulders, rubbing his hands over me, willing all of the tension from my muscles. 

He rubbed his gentle hands down my back, from one side to the other, back up to my shoulders, then down my back again. He's not a professional masseuse - I've had therapeutic massages, and while they are sensual, they're not erotic - but Bill's hands were caressing me in a way that sent shivers all up and down my spine. 

I could feel the moisture building in my pussy, the tingling of intense arousal as he ran his hands down my butt, squeezing my buns. His hands traveled down my thighs, then back up to my butt again. Using both thumbs, he parted my lower lips, sending my juice welling over his hand. He ran both thumbs down the furrow of my cunt, over my throbbing clit, as I gasped and moaned. He took his wet thumbs up my pussy, past my opening and up to my anus, which he gently rimmed, still using just his thumbs. 

Anal sex is not something we do a lot, but it isn't a rarity, either. I seem to have a bundle of nerve endings right at my anal ring, and when Bill (or I) runs a finger or a tongue over it, I just go ballistic. It was that way this time. I squealed and thrust my hips back in a jerky motion, and my pussy absolutely flooded. 

Bill gently lifted my hips off the bed, then laid down behind me, pressed his face to my pussy and slashed his way down my slot with his tongue, then bored his tongue into me, stabbing me with it. I humped myself back as I felt the sizzle of another hard orgasm begin to quicken. Bill's tongue was everywhere, around my clit, in my pussy, up to my ass. He bathed my whole crotch with his hot tongue as I squealed and moaned in delight. 

But just as I was beginning to reach my peak, he pulled away. I groaned in frustration, but he just gave a wicked laugh. 

"Not yet, my sweet," he said softly. 

My heart was pounding as I got up on my knees and told Bill to lie on his back, so I could return the favor. His eyes were sparkling as he complied. Once he was laid back, I crawled between his legs and brought my face to his crotch. 

I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and sucked each of his balls, lashing them with my tongue. I looked up at Bill and grinned wickedly as I ran my tongue up his shaft. I got a big thrill as I felt the pulsing of the big ridge on the underside of his dick. He hadn't quite been completely hard when I'd started, but he was hard as iron now. 

I circled the underside of his crown with my tongue, and he groaned from exquisite sensations. I licked around the head, tasting his pre-cum, before slipping my lips over the tip and letting them melt their way down the head. I slid his cock gently into my mouth and let his shaft fill me until the head hit the entrance to my throat. At that point, I had a little over half of him in my mouth, more than enough for me to use. 

When we were younger, and before I went to work for the district attorney, we occasionally rented X-rated movies, and for the life of me, I could never figure out how these porn stars were able to deep throat the huge cocks they were dealing with, or why they did it. I can, with great effort, get all of Bill's cock in my mouth. But it hurts my throat, and to me, defeats the purpose of oral sex. 

In my mind, taking my man's hard cock in my mouth is the most selfless sex act I can do for him, because unless were doing a 69, there really isn't any pleasure that I get from it. The pleasure is all his. I guess the same is true for a man licking his woman's pussy. And when it becomes painful, then it loses its enjoyment and becomes something sort of demeaning. 

Besides, when Bill's cock gets deep in my throat like that, I really have no leverage to work his cock. I can't use my hands to guide him, can't use my tongue, and there's no room to give him the kind of motion that stimulates him. So I didn't bother trying to get any more of his cock in my mouth. I concentrated on working my hot mouth up and down his shaft, snaking my tongue around his shaft with each plunge. 

I looked up, and was gratified to see that Bill's eyes were screwed shut as he enjoyed the pleasure I was giving him. I could feel my pussy bubbling, just from the sheer enjoyment of the moment, and I hummed over his cock when I reached back under my body and began to work the fingers of my other hand, the one that wasn't holding his cock, in my pussy. 

My juices were covering my hand as I worked three fingers around the outside of my pussy and my thumb around my clit. I couldn't help myself, I was bobbing my head up and down harder and faster on Bill's cock in rhythm to the soaring sensations radiating from my crotch. 

I don't know if it was telepathy or what, but at the same instant, Bill lifted my head off his cock as I slid my body up the bed. I frantically straddled my husband's hips, still keeping a death grip on the base of his cock, aimed the head at my dripping cunt and impaled myself on his dick, and I do mean impaled. 

I sat right down on his burning hot spear and in no more than a second I was humping up and down in a frenzy as another orgasm exploded through my body. This one was quite a bit stronger than the one I'd had in the bathtub. I can't remember when I was so turned on. I bucked and moaned and cried out as my body shuddered from top to bottom. 

Bill just held me on his still rampant dick, fully embedded in my twitching cunt, as the climax rolled through me and subsided. Then I leaned over and kissed him deeply, and began to make little fuck motions up and down on his cock. I was already slick with sweat and the residue of the bath oil, and we hadn't even gotten going good. Bill kept his hands on my hips as he worked me gently up and down on his cock. 




Cure For The Blues



Incredibly, I could feel yet another climax building, but this one seemed to be moving at a slower pace. I brushed the hair away from my husband's head, and gently caressed his forehead, his ears, his neck. He took my fingers and sucked them into his mouth, staring at me all the while. I don't know why that turned me on, maybe it was just the way he was looking at me. Whatever it was, it was getting me back on the gravy train. 

I could feel Bill's upthrusts getting stronger, harder, faster, and I worked my hips up and down on him in rhythm. When you have been lovers as long as we have, these motions come instinctively. Bill's hands were still gripping my hips, but he was no longer guiding me. We were truly working together, building up to a stupendous mutual climax, and my body was tingling all over in anticipation. 

Sensing the quickening of time, Bill rolled me over to one side, slid out from under me, his cock slipping out of me. But only for a moment. I lay on my back, my legs spread lewdly, my red, swollen pussy wet and gaping to his gaze. He just stared at it for a few seconds, almost in rapture, then he pressed the head to my waiting pussy and drove his cock back home. As he did, he hooked the backs of my knees with his elbows, lifted my legs high over my head and began to fuck me hard. 

Bill just stared down at me as he corkscrewed his cock as far as he could in my cunt. In this position, he could absolutely fill me to the brim with his hard meat. And I corkscrewed my hips in tandem with his, letting my clit brush his shaft on each inward thrust. 

I could feel waves of pleasure flowing from my hard core, through my body to my brain. Everything else in the world fell away except the pure sensation of Bill's cock drilling in my spastic pussy. I lifted my legs even higher, wrapped my ankles around the back of his neck and urged him to fuck me with everything he had. 

"Oh yeah! That's it, baby," I panted. "Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme, fuuuuuuuck me!" 

Bill was incapable of words, he was working so hard. Sweat dripped from his nose onto my face, and I could feel him working faster, harder. I was almost there, and I could tell that he was as well. 

"C'mon baby, do it. Fuck mama and fill me up with your hot cum," I yelled. "Do it, do it, do it!" 

And boy did he. 

With a strangled gasp, he gave me a half-dozen supremely deep thrusts, and I felt his cock swell like a balloon as he exploded with shot after shot of hot, creamy cum. And I was right there with him, writhing, twitching, moaning and gasping as my orgasm swept through me like a tidal wave. 

Even before he was completely finished shooting his cum, Bill released my legs, slumped forward and we kissed, licked and kissed again, frantically, wantonly, our tongues duelling like swordsmen as our passion finally began to ebb. For a long time, he continued to slowly move his cock back and forth in my flooded pussy, squeezing out little mini-bolts of cum until he was finally drained. Our bodies were covered in sweat and our chests were heaving as we slowly began to come down from our incredible high. 

I couldn't help it. I just started a kind of throaty, almost demented laugh, not quite believing how good this had been. Don't ever let anyone tell you that sex always gets stale after lovers have been together a long time. As I said, we've been having sex for 25 years, and this was one of the best sessions we'd ever had. 

We held each other for a long time, and just sort of drifted off to sleep, utterly content. 

It's amazing what one sudden turn of events will produce. The first thing that greeted me when I floated into the office the next morning was a message from the defense counsel in my murder trial. They wanted to meet to discuss a plea bargain. We got the deal done before 2 o'clock that afternoon, and since it was Friday, my boss gave me the rest of the day off, and said yes when I asked him I could take Monday as a personal day to spend with my husband. 

Bill and I spent the rest of his time at home naked, except for the few minutes he went out to get the newspaper, and I think we fucked in every room in the house. When I put him on the plane early on Tuesday, my pussy was aching, my ass was sore, my lips were chapped and my body felt like it had been run through the washing machine. 

I don't know when I've ever felt better.



Cure for the Flu



I have the flu; the man-flu. I've been sneezing and coughing for three days now. I've been hot and I've been cold; I have no energy and I'm clearly lying here dying. I've been awake since the early hours snuffling and wheezing; the arrival of morning is a welcome relief. 

The alarm beeps unnecessarily to inform me that its 6:00 a.m., clearly I won't be going to work today. But now that it is Monday you will have to get up and go, leaving me to wallow in my own misery. 

You put on the bedside lamp and propping yourself up, drink some water. I know you are beginning your usual work day routine to wake up and start the day. You reach over and squeeze my hand, saying; "How are you feeling my love?"

What should I say? Put on a brave face and try to appear macho? Or just be the pitiful self that I feel like? I decide on the latter; 

"Honestly? I still feel like shit!"

"I'll go and get you a glass of orange juice and some Paracetamol. Back in a sec." 

And you have bounded out of bed, in a way that I couldn't even begin to consider. I see a flash of bare bottom beneath the silk pyjama top as you cross the room. An indication of how lousy I feel, is that I am not even slightly turned on by this sight. 

The light goes on in the landing and I hear your footsteps descend the stairs, but I think I must be a bit deaf because I can't hear any sounds from the kitchen below. You reappear with a glass of juice, a slice of toast and marmite, two white tablets and six chewable vitamin C's. 

You help me lean forward and plump up my pillows for me, and I feel as helpless as a baby submitting to these administrations. 

I haven't the strength to eat the toast, and feebly take a few sips of juice and swallow the tablets. Meanwhile you are carrying out your morning rituals that I know so well. First you slip into padded cycling shorts, black trainers and a baggy tee shirt. Then you turn on BBC Breakfast, and start your 30 minute cycling work out. 

Drowsily I hear the pedals pumping and in my blurred line of vision are Sian and Bill being annoyingly cheery while presenting the news. I suspect I may have dosed off for a few minutes; not surprising considering how little sleep I have had the past few nights. I'm guessing this because you are now walking back and forth across the bedroom in black panties and black sports bra. I know you are putting away yesterday's clothes, and trying to decide what to wear today. 

When you have your outfit for the day arranged neatly on the bottom of the bed, you come over to my side and sit down next to me. You gently place a hand on my forehead; 

"Well, I think your temperature is back to normal anyway. Here, let me help you sit up a bit more so that you can eat something."

I realise I have slumped back down in the bed, so I obediently sit up so that you can plump up my pillows for me. Then you sit back down again and unhook your bra, hanging it over the handlebars of the exercise bike. You lean forward and give me a kiss on the cheek, and your newly freed breasts swing in front of my face. You cradle my head between your ample bosoms. This reminds me of when I was a child, bringing back memories of being comforted by my mother when I wasn't well. 

You give my head one more squeeze, then you're pinning up your hair as you head to the bathroom and I hear the shower running. I picture you indulging yourself amid the marble tiles, with all the jets massaging your entire body. We remodelled the bathroom when we moved into the flat, making it really luxurious. One of our special pleasures is to make love in the enormous wet room shower. 

I sip my orange juice thoughtfully as you return to rub Chanel No. 5 body lotion all over you. I can just about catch the fragrance through my blocked up nasal passages. While I am listlessly nibbling my toast you are morphing into the legal eagle that you are. First the silk knickers and sheer black tights, followed by your extra-support bra from Victoria's Secret. Today you have chosen a simple black dress, trimmed in beige, and topped off with a stylish jacket that has decorative pockets and ruched sleeves. You knot your hair into a sleek chignon, and come to give me a goodbye kiss. 

Too soon I am listening to your sensible day heels clattering down the metal rungs of the spiral staircase. And I am alone again with only Carole and the weather for company. Why does she wear such hideous dresses that make her look top heavy? You, on the other hand, always take such pride in finding clothes to flatter your full figure. 

Of course it was actually your big boobs that first caught my attention. But in fairness, that is because we were at a conference and I was trying to read your name tag pinned to your chest. When you saw me staring admiringly, you laughed, and said, "Well now you know my name, will you ever be able to put a face to it again?"

Naturally I was a bit embarrassed, and looked up to discover that there was a gorgeous face attached to the voice. So we began the first meeting ritual. But a couple of drinks later, we were laughing and joking with ease. I realised I hadn't felt this comfortable with an attractive woman before, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Fair enough, I'm no slouch myself after all. Of course my eyes just couldn't help themselves and kept sliding back down to those tantalising tits. Eventually you asked me to look at your face when we were talking, and I countered with, "How long have you had those?" You took it all in good humour though.

Then followed the dating ritual; fitted between both of our busy work schedules. I knew immediately that I wanted to spend every waking hour with you though. When you took off your formal work clothes and let your hair down ... Wow! What a stunner you are. 

I have no problem remembering the first time we made love. It was about two weeks after our initial meeting and we had been to a Chambers party earlier in the evening. Then I took you for dinner at Orso's and we sat across from each other with mozzarella cheese dripping down our chins from the pizza. 

Just when I was trying to decide on the best approach to get you into bed you said, 

"I can't wait to get out of these stuffy work clothes, let's go back to my place." 

And of course once you had gone to change, I just couldn't help myself from shamelessly following you into the bedroom. There you were standing in next-to-nothing and me with a raving hard on. You completely took my breath away, you were so absolutely ravishing. And when I said as much, we were immediately all over each other, both hungry for the other. I was out of my clothes in a matter of moments, and we were on the bed practically eating each other. I fought to hold myself back a bit, but it was a losing battle. I was so turned on I lasted only a minute and was ashamed of myself. But you weren't bothered at all -- you simply guided my hand down to feel the wet, wet honey pot. And when I started kissing you there you instantly began to moan with pleasure. You climaxed almost immediately and as we lay together afterwards I thought, "This is it, I have finally found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with."

We never looked back from that day. We couldn't get enough of each other, couldn't keep our hands to ourselves whenever we were together. We kept leaving parties early to race back to your place, or mine, whichever was closest, to leap into bed and make love all night long.

Within a year we had given up our rented flats and bought this fantastic warehouse conversion together. As soon as we saw it, we knew it had to be ours. Friends and family cautioned us that we were rushing things too much. But that was five years ago, and they must be eating their words now. 

But this is the first time I have been ill while we've been together, and I was afraid you might hate me for being such a puny weakling. Not so, you've been your usual sensible self, just dealing with the flu in the matter of fact way you handle any little problems that come up. 

With these thoughts in mind I walk on rubbery legs and take a quick shower and wash the sweat from my hair. I'm beginning to feel vaguely human again. 

By now you will have arrived at Chambers and I was too wrapped up in self pity to think to ask you what was on your agenda today.

At lunchtime you call to see how I am doing, and tell me that there are tins of soup in the cupboard and a fresh loaf of French bread. So I make my way down to the kitchen, still a bit wobbly on the stairs. I have to sit down on the window seat in the lounge for a rest. Outside the clouds are thinning and I can see the river in the distance sparkling in a shaft of sunlight. 

I manage to make minestrone soup but am not quite up to eating the bread yet. I drink a couple of litres of chilled water from the cooler, and chew more vitamin C's. 

After that I'm exhausted again, so I lie down on our mammoth black sofa under a blanket, and apparently fall asleep in seconds. I can't believe I have slept the afternoon away, as I try and stir my aching limbs into action. My mouth feels like the bottom of a parrot's cage, so I drink another gallon of water, and wander aimlessly around the flat for a while. Since I haven't been downstairs for a few days it's a bit of a novelty to look at some of the treasures we have collected together. We've kept the décor minimalistic in keeping with the high ceiling and lofty space. I'm very fond of the huge giraffe we brought back from our Africa trip though. Another favourite is the bronze replica of Rodin's "The Kiss", which we felt captured our feelings for each other. 

You call me again at 6:00 p.m. to say you are on your way home and am I up to eating something? I think I might be, so you suggest picking up some Vietnamese spring rolls and sushi. 

I'd like to go up and tidy the bedroom before you get home, but don't quite have enough energy to face the stairs again. I do muster the strength to put the Japanese placemats onto the smoky glass dining table ready for you. It's not exactly romantic with me in my old tee shirt and comfy track suit bottoms, but at least I have made an effort. 

True to form you sweep in and give me a hug without commenting on my shabby appearance. You are just pleased to see I'm out of bed. So I unpack the dinner, while you go up to get changed. I pour wine for you, and more water for myself. You reappear in a flowing Caribbean caftan and proceed to eat lustily while I pick at the vegetarian sushi. I hear all about the trials and tribulations of your day, and then we cuddle up on the sofa to watch the news. I start to feel drowsy again, so you encourage me to get off to bed. 

You have to read through a brief for a court hearing tomorrow, so you say you will be up in an hour or so. I don't know what time you do come to bed, because the next thing I hear is the 6:00 a.m. alarm going off again. 

"Hey, I slept the whole night!" I declare. "Things are looking up." 

Now I am watching you perform your morning ritual again. But there are definite signs of life today, as I am more interested in seeing your boobs giggling on the exercise bike than in watching Breakfast TV. 

Suddenly I feel a lot more alert, and as you hop off the cycle I reach out to grab a handful of beautiful bottom. You lean over me and I cup a bouncing breast in my hand, and give it a loving squeeze. 

"Hey, you really are on the mend." You laugh. 

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate you taking care of me." I tell you. 

When you finish your workout you pull off your tee shirt and bra and then I am pressing my face between those magnificent globes, which mean the world to me. Snuggling into your warm skin feels so reassuring, and the sheet begins to rise and form a tent. "Perhaps there's life in the man yet." I think. 

Of course this does not go unnoticed by you either, as you run your hand over my crotch to feel the bulge. And when you bend down to plant a kiss on my penis your breasts are jiggling right in front of my face. How can I resist taking one in my mouth and sucking on it with a strength I didn't realise I still possessed. Magically my scratchy throat is forgotten, and I find another perky nipple crying out for attention. Despite a little difficulty in breathing I rise to the occasion, as you caress my engorged penis, and the aches and pains I have been experiencing for days, are converted into feelings of pleasure. 

"Hmm," you croon, "How about continuing this in the dream shower? You can wash away the flu blues!" 

Of course I know that you are actually on a schedule and need to take your shower to get ready for work. But I have a sudden surge of energy, and allow myself to be persuaded without resistance. So on slightly wobbly legs I follow behind the peaches of your bare bottom with my now erect penis leading me on. 

You lean into the tiled surface to get the water temperature just right, and then turn on extra jets so that we will get a total body massage. Then holding both my hands you pull me in front of you and begin lathering my back with shower gel. But it's too much for me, so I turn you around and lather your back with sweeping strokes which reach around to include a bit more breast each time. I know you love this, because you arch your back and the hush puppies perk up even more than ever. I can feel the pink nipple buds beneath my finger and thumb as I gently tease them into erection. I let my hands support their substantial weight from underneath. They are simply magnificent, more than just a 'fair pair.' I believe they have actually grown since I have known you, and we've put this down to all the titillating they receive on an almost daily basis. 

The water runs in rivulets through your cleavage and down towards the neatly shaped triangle, and I follow its course with my hands and cup my hand around your perfect pussy. I can't resist pressing my hugely stiff dick against the cheeks of your bottom, and then you bend over invitingly. You turn off the water and grab the love handles we had thought to install in the shower. Then you put your hands between your legs to pull my proud penis into the warm depths of your secret garden. 

Despite us both being squeaky clean, you have managed to remain moist inside as I slide effortlessly within, and I am rewarded with a moan of pleasure. I can see my entire length disappearing inside you, and all the parts of your secret anatomy are revealed to me; from the tiny rosebud to Gyna's welcoming lips. As ever it is an enormous turn on, and you encourage me to start thrusting like a well oiled piston. The sight of your round bottom, with the pale skin blushed by the heat of the shower, throws me into overdrive. 

Perhaps because I am still a little bit weak, I last much longer than usual, and I can see that this is creating an excess of pleasure for you. You like it when I roughly grasp the erogenous tits, more than a handful apiece. Because we're using our favourite position today, my thrusts have found the G-spot. You let out a howl of ecstasy as your orgasm sweeps over you in every increasing peaks. I feel the hot rush of your ejaculate moments before my own rushes to meet it. 

When I slip from you there is a flood of clover scented nectar spilling from you. We are both so spent that we turn the jets on again and collapse in a heap on the mosaic floor, hugging and holding each other.

I have one more fondle of the tantalising titties and wash the sperm from my willie. You step outside and reach for a thick bath sheet to wrap me in, rubbing my back dry as you do so. Then you do that clever thing - turning one towel into a turban on your head, and the other knotted tight over the boobs. 

Back in the bedroom I am reduced to lying back on the bed again on top of the towel, with my whole body as limp as my dick. Meanwhile you are hurrying to make up the time, and are speedily dressed for another business day. I can only watch helplessly, basking in the climatic afterglow, with a wonderful relaxed sensation spreading throughout my entire body. 

When you are ready to leave, you come over to me and hold my hand saying, 

"I think we've just discovered a cure for the flu! I shall expect a celebratory dinner when I arrive home tonight. It's back to work for you tomorrow."

Hey, no problem. But, I think I'll just take a little nap in the meantime. I need to get my strength back after all.



Cure for Writer's Block



If you're reading this, you probably think you have writer's block. You want to write but you can't. You have this piece you desperately want to get out, but, every time you sit down to it, you totally freeze. Or you can only write crap. Or you never seem to sit down to it at all because there's always a kitchen to tidy or a call you have to make and then the kids come home or you're too tired and somehow, you just never make it to the keyboard. 

Or maybe you're the opposite -- you've always been prolific, churning out one piece after another but now, just at the point where everything should be flowing smoothly, it seems as though the well has dried right up. 

Well, it's possible that you have writer's block. 

It's also possible that you don't. 

There are things that can stop you from writing that have nothing to do with writing, and all the advice and analysis and writing exercises in the world aren't going to help. 

Before you frustrate the hell out of yourself, consider whether one of the following might account for why you're not writing:

NO TIME: This is a pretty obvious reason not to be writing, but one that is most often pooh-poohed as not being good enough. Rather than just whopping your limp carcass to sit upright in front of that monitor and create, try a more strategic approach. 

Make a list of all the things you do during the day and how much time you spend doing them. Do you work eight or more hours? Do you commute back and forth? Do you have kids? Are you responsible for cooking, cleaning, and/or caring for a parent? Do you have friends, a spouse, or a pet that needs your attention from time to time? 

Don't forget to add in office work you bring home and the number of hours you need to sleep in order to function and anything else you spend time doing during the week. If just reading the list makes you tired, then it should be no surprise that adding an hour of writing every day seems like nothing but a great, big, dreary burden. For now, maybe you should concentrate your energies on simplifying your life and making time (and space) for writing.

GRIEF, DEPRESSION, & ILLNESS: Another explanation for not writing that seems obvious from the outside is physical or mental anguish. It's sometimes appealing to think of throwing yourself into your work in these situations, to escape the pain or boost your spirits, but if it doesn't work out this plan can backfire and make us feel worse. If you can't write because of pain or sorrow, you may need to concentrate your energies on healing yourself before you can get back into writing.

NATURAL RHYTHM: Believe it or not, not all professional writers are prolific and it's possible that one short story a year is your natural rhythm. If nothing you've tried makes your productivity increase and pushing yourself to get more stuff out just makes you miserable, you might want to consider that the world has already seen a Jeffery Archer and a Stephen King, and it might be okay to allow yourself to write only as often as you enjoy it.

SOMETHING'S PERCOLATING/BRAIN'S RECHARGING: Here are two reasons for not writing that every writer can embrace and celebrate, because they mean that, to quote science fiction writer Spider Robinson, "you ARE writing, you're just not TYPING yet." But how do you tell the difference? Is this quiet spell the happy silence of little gray cells puttering away or is it the echoing silence of the void? Most writers get a feel for the idea percolation process, but it's a subtle distinction and hard to distinguish through a haze of writer's block panic. The other end of the process, brain recharging, may hit in the middle of a roll, after you've successfully completed one project with the intention of just breezing through to another. The sudden bout of tiredness, disinterest and the longing to be anywhere but in front of the word processor can be very panic-inducing, particularly when it goes on for a while. 

Instead of jumping to conclusions on either front, give yourself a chance to sort things out. Take a break from writing for a while, test the waters occasionally, work on something else, but above all, listen to your inner voice. If it tells you nothing's broke, don't rush to fix it.

Now, if you've read through all of this and none of it applies to you, you might just be right about having writer's block. In that case, this How To is made for you. I hope the ideas help you, give you hope or at least take your mind off being blocked for a while.

Advice on getting off the block:

1. Don't obsess on one thing -- have more than one project going at a time and if you get stuck on one, move to another. 

2. Commit to finishing everything you start -- if you've left a project, commit to returning to it; continue to work on the problem. 

3. Change the mode of putting down words -- if you're stuck on the word processor try a dictation machine or writing by hand; or change where you write -- go outside, or to a friendly coffee shop, or the library. 

4. Get some physical exercise -- go out and walk; mow the lawn -- physical activity of the pleasant and slightly mindless kind seems to precipitate mental activity of the kind that promotes creativity.

Okay, so those were good words and nice advice, but exactly are you supposed to do when you have writer’s block?

Here are a few practical methods you can use to get started writing, or to free yourself from writer's block, or to explore new possibilities. Some demand a lot of time, but then the serious writer devotes a lot of time to learning the craft.

Oral story telling to a friend, followed by questions from the friend, followed by writing the story in detail based on the questions.

Journal writing: Write on a regular basis in a personal journal. Explore personal feelings, develop your thoughts, and record the happenings of the day. Underline any ideas you'd like to explore later in expanded writings. 

Spontaneous Prose Composition and Free Writing: The aim of spontaneous prose composition is to work in a stead rush, not stopping to search for the right word or to think about grammar. Free writing does not attempt to focus on any object at all, as does spontaneous prose composition, but simply follows the mind's associations, writing them down, omitting nothing.

Getting Words on Paper: Most people get stuck writing because they have an internal censor who says, "Wait-you can't write that shoddy sentence down. It's not smart/witty/concise/eloquent/perfect enough." It's good to have a critical eye and high standards, but if you hold yourself to these standards all the time-even while jotting down first thoughts or a rough draft-it interferes with your creative juices. It's helpful to think of creating and critiquing as separate activities. First be creative. Get as many ideas on paper as you can. They don't have to be brilliant, original, well-formulated, or correct. Then when you're ready to be critical, you'll have lots of material to choose from. If the first four ideas are completely wacky and irrelevant, the fifth might just be useful and interesting. A few of your sentences might be usable the way they are-and lots more could be reworked into usable sentences.

Using the senses: Sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste. In erotic writing, it is very important to involve the senses in a scene. Concentrate on using all or any combination of them in a scene you are writing. Do not write anything other than this in the particular scene.

Clustering: Begin a cluster with a nucleus word. Select a word that is related to the topic you might like to write about. Record words that come to mind when you think of the word. Don't pick and choose; record every word. Circle each word as you write it, and draw a line connecting it to the closest related word. After 3 or 4 minutes of clustering, you probably will be ready to get going and write non-stop for 8 minutes. 

Sketching with words: Carry a pocket-size notebook with you at all times (writer's journal) to record whatever catches your attention. Sketching can help you get over dry spells when you can't think of anything to write. Record actions, activities, characters, conversations, and events. In other words, record life as you see it happening all around you from the mundane to the extraordinary.

Recording dreams: Most of us do not remember dreams on a regular basis. To do so we must write them down. Keep a notebook or writer's journal by your bed, and if you are awakened by a dream, write it down. At first you may not remember much, but once you begin writing the occasional dreams you recall, you will begin remembering more. Keeping a dream journal has other advantages besides offering an incentive to write. Aside from offering whatever insights, if any, dreams may give you to your inner life; dream journaling is important for three reasons. First, it is another form of writing, and during the early stages of writing, the more you do, of any kind, the better. Second, dreams offer several literary devices to use in your work. They are filled with exaggeration, with impossibilities, with cinematic cuts. Third, dreams themselves are keys to the unconscious and can add dimension to your characters.

Revise: When you are ready for this process, take a deep breath, calm yourself and say "don't worry, be happy!" This step will be the most time-consuming. Here you will correct your grammar, organize your paragraphs in logical order, and delete or modify words for clarity. Use active verbs to improve the strength of your writing. Think about your intended audience; write for their level of understanding. Then leave it for a day or two, revise again. You will be amazed at how revising helps you get into the writing mood again.

Piecework: Sometimes, starting at the beginning induces Perfect Draft Syndrome. It may be easier to get started if you approach the task sideways. If you've got a plan for the article or manual, choose a section from the middle or a point you know well and start there. Then do another section. After you've gained some confidence, you can work on the opening and smooth out the transitions.

EXERCISES: Here are some useful exercises to help kick the block. You'll get out of these exercises as much as you put in. If you like an exercise, do it several times. A painter may sketch a face a dozen times and each time is new. If you don't like something, still give it a try. Don't use your dislikes as obstacles. In general, plan to spend 20 or 30 minutes on each exercise. But if something particularly stimulates you, of course, keep going. 

1. Pick a story from your life and tell it to someone. Afterwards, ask them what else they want to know: anything about the action, conversation, character, or place. After this sorting out, write it down. 

2. Scan your mind for an event that you have been bursting to tell-- a story that arouses strong emotions. Now visualize it. Then pick some point in the action and start writing. As you write, continue to see the activity you describe. If an idea or thought about one of the characters or about an object in the area grabs your attention, write about it until drawn back to the main event. Whenever your mind is drawn away from the story, let it follow the flow of association.

3. If you're having trouble finding an object to write about, practice free writing 10 minutes a day for a week. Simply write down the free associations that pop into your head. The mind, eventually tired of babbling, will focus on an object and kick in. 

4. Each day, for 2 weeks find a different place to sketch with words. For example, sit at a lunch counter and observe what is happening. Write as fast as you can. Note conversations, but do not try to write them word for word. Get a few broad strokes, note the gist of the conversation, a few exchanges, note the mannerisms, or any odd expressions. Mainly concentrate on the ambience- the look and feel of the place. Is it mirrored in the look of the customers? What details of the physical setting are you drawn to? Which of those details turn you off? Is it very modern with clean lines, or old and rundown? Note what the waiters looks like. Do they reflect the place? Pick one. What does this person look like? How does he or she stand, straight or slouched? Does he or she talk much? Loudly? Any peculiar accent? Are his or her clothes clean? Greasy? Food splattered? What does the place smell like? Does it remind you of any place you've been before? KEEP YOUR SKETCHES VARIED: a street scene, a coffee shop, a library, a bar, a gym, a park, an office, etc. In some of your sketches, focus on process and activity; in others, focus on place. Focus on characters in others.

5. When you go to a grocery store, jot down your observations in a notebook such that later you'll be able to compose three paragraphs based on your experience. In one paragraph, describe a loner's looks and behaviour; in another, a couple's looks and interactions. In the third paragraph, describe how an employee communicates with the customers. 

6. Take one of your sketches and transform it into a prose poem. No, this is not as hard as it looks. Try it. You don't actually have to do it well you know.

7. Pick a fast moving activity--crowds moving through a department store, work at a construction site, a sporting event-- and take notes. No later than the next day, write up your notes. 

8. Observe an event carefully without taking notes or sketching. Five to ten minutes later write it up from memory.

9. Go to five very different public places and transcribe as much of the conversation as you can. As soon as you can, transcribe your notes, filling in whatever words you missed, based on memory or likely guesswork.

10. Write a short story about a person or group of people you observed during one of your sketching sessions. Let the plot be advanced through the building of the character arc. 

11. Take any public domain tale and translate it into a contemporary story or take a story from the Bible and rework it into a contemporary tale.

12. Find an old ballad that you like and transform it into a short story or a tale told in free verse.

13. Keep a dream journal for at least three weeks. At first you may not remember any dreams; then, fragments; then, as your practice recalling and writing them down, you will find yourself remembering more and more of them.

14. Write a story or essay in imitation of your favourite author. Pick a theme and/or characters that typify this writer or take a published story with well-defined characters and a strong narrative and rewrite it in imitation of one of your favourite authors. As you do this, you will find yourself changing the characters and story line.

15. Sound, like visuals, can help create a sense of place or set the stage for activity. Write a short scene that begins with a sound that indicates an activity. Make that activity an important element within the scene.

16. Write a short scene that layers sounds on one another. Use the sounds to create tension.

17. Write a short action scene in which sound and visuals are integrated throughout.

18. Describe he town you grew up in--the streets, the shops, schools, churches, rivers, bridges, houses, people. Don't mention your emotions; don't be sentimental. Then for half a page, indicate a place in the above sketch where something happened. Map out the event with special attention to the physical details of the setting. It need not be a big event-- your shattering a window or seeing a teacher you had a crush on kissing a cop will do. Have you described the childhood place vividly? Do you mention enough details to construct a visual impression? Do you engage other senses, not only sight? Read your descriptions slowly. Are you there? 

19. Make a one-page list of all the objects you remember from your childhood home. Don't use any particular order or many adjectives. Don't censor yourself-- something seemingly unimportant may evoke strong impressions. Read your list and circle the objects that evoke the strongest feelings and memories of events. What are these events? Do you see a story lurking there? Now write one page and describe one of these events. Rely on topography. Where exactly did it happen? What objects were involved? What people played a part in that event? Make sure you haven't used sentimental vocabulary. It's fine to be sentimental, but mentioning the sentiments won't give them to your reader. Connecting the details with the events might.

20. Write down your first three memories. Can you make a story out of them? Try. Why do you think you still remember these things when you've forgotten so many others? Even if you aren't exactly sure why you remember these or the exact details of the memory, keep going. Imagine that you remember more than you do. Later on, you might want to expand this writing and then even later on rewrite this in the third person and forget that it's you. If your drafts sound grave and heavily psychological, go back and lighten them up by inserting funny insights.

21. Write down the first dream you can remember having. Don't mention the fact that it's a dream you are writing about. Turn it into a story. Remember that in dreams you can't be held accountable for making everything plausible. Strange things happen, and not everything is explained. Don't punctuate, just drift words and images together into a dreamlike stream of consciousness. You can't remember all the details of your early dreams- or maybe you can? - but don't let that deter you from writing at least two pages. If you can manage to get into a primitive dreamlike state of mind you'll create strange connections and images. This approach could be productive for helping you develop unique moments in stories. 

22. Recall a physical or verbal fight, and construct it as one scene. 

23. Think about an incident that you avoid remembering-- or can't clearly remember-- and write about it. Write about a moment of terror you experienced, or about a defeat that hurts your pride. You can choose a terrible incident that, though crucial to you, you could not witness (such as the expected death of a close relative). Even if you are afraid to think about something--or especially if you are-- muster the courage to plunge into the middle of your frightful memory. You will come up with something that matters to you, and if you evoke it clearly, it should matter to the reader, too. 

24. Imagine some event that could have happened to you but did not-- something that you wanted to happen or feared happening. First, make up the basic outline of the event, and then incorporate true details. Put your teapot and cats into the story; they won't sue you. Your knowledge of these details will help convince the reader of the truthfulness of the story's main event. Don't spend too much time on introducing this event or on drawing conclusions. Just give us the scene with your desire (or fear) acted out. Keep yourself as the main protagonist. Desire and fear are the MOST productive dynamos of fiction and imagination. Around the desire or fear you can easily integrate the character, conflict, setting-- all the basic elements of fiction easily fall into place once you have a character with a strong motive.

25. Think of someone who has meant a lot to you. Pick a crucial moment in your relationship with this person and then tell it to someone. Talk about the difference this person made in your life. If unusual or striking, describe his or her habits, looks, and gestures. Now, write it down.




Cure for Writer's Block



26. Write a profile of someone who had a big influence on your life. You can do this in one of two ways: either write a paragraph on each important aspect of their character, or illustrate their character by describing an event in which the person played a pivotal role.

27. Write an account of an event to which you were a witness. Write it in both past and present tenses. 

28. Write the close up of an activity. Then pull the camera back and see more of it. Describe it.

29. Describe with care the most ordinary items you can think of. Look at them as though they were strange and unusual. Conversely, describe extraordinary things--meteors, rockets, and so on-- in familiar language as just another stone ore piece of rolled sheet metal. This will help you learn to control your distance from the objects you describe. If you are too close, you may not see the shape; if you are too far, you may not see the details. Get into the habit of shifting the focus away from what would be your automatic focus, and you will see items in a fresh way. Practice the art of creating surprising details. Skip something obviously important and use something apparently unimportant.

30. If you live in a rural area or have visited the countryside, reflect on a time you were especially aware of the natural surroundings and felt at one with them. It may have been an hour lying underneath a tree, a day spent canoeing or hiking in the woods. It may have been a month in the country when time slowed down and you became intimately aware of the life around you. Write about it.

31. If you live in an urban area or have spent time in a city, describe a street fair or neighbourhood celebration, or a time you roamed city streets absorbing sights and sounds.

32. Write an account of a process. Perhaps the process is a skill you have such as sewing or painting. Perhaps it is a process you observed over a period of time, such as the construction of a skyscraper or the erosion of a hill.

33. Take a story that you've already written, reread it, and then visualize it part by part. As you visualize a part, write it down. Repeat the process until you've satisfied yourself that you've achieved the right level of detail, and then read the first and last versions to someone. Ask for reactions.

34. Experiment with writing at different times of day to find which works best for you. Practice writing for longer and longer periods. Experiment with different suggested ways of coping with writer's block.

35. Exchange work with a friend, and see how many irrelevant words you can cut from each other's works. How many clichés or hackneyed phrases can you identify?

36. If you are working on a novel or memoir, attempt to identify irrelevant episodes or redundancies.

37. Take something you've written - story, essay, poem- and identify those places where you have used the passive voice. Substitute active voice in every instance. Does it strengthen the writing, or does it subvert its meaning? Look at the same work and see where you can substitute stronger words for those you have.

38. Take a story you've written and change the person of narration. Does it work better in first or third person?

39. Take a story you've written or a story in Public Domain and heighten the tone and mood by exaggerating passages.

40. Take a newspaper editorial and put it in the mouth of a low status character. How would that person express his or her views? Would they use different words? How might they pronounce some of those words? Exaggerate in this exercise.

41. Take a page from a favourite story with narration and dialogue written in standard English. Rewrite it from the point of view of someone who speaks with an accent or in a dialect, preferably someone from your own locale or region. Spell some of the words phonetically.

42. Complete any open-ended sentence in as many ways as you can. Some examples of open-ended sentences are: I wonder how..., Too many people..., I just learned..., Television is..., One place I enjoy..., The good thing about...

43. Make a character visible through her surroundings. If she loves plants and cats and hates people, her house might assume certain traits. Sketch the house, listing the sights, smells, and sounds. Afterwards, read the sketch. Do you give precise details? Rather than "the place smelled stuffy," do you show the stuffiness?

44. On 5 half-pages, describe someone's hands so that we get an idea that he or she is (a) nervous, (b) artistic, (c) rich (d) poor, (e) ill. This exercise will broaden the range of physical details you use when describing characters. Since what you can accomplish by describing noses and eyes may be too much strain on these organs, it's good to let the whole body do the work of developing the character. Just think of the skills you have in your fingers. Pay attention to appearance and motion. Are the hands expressing impulses? Can we see all you say? Rather than saying the hands are nervous (graceful, sensual, determined and so on-- adjectives that can rarely be visualized), do you give us a picture of a forefinger digging its bitten nail into the side of the thumb? It's all right to say that hands are nervous, but show that too.

45. Critique. Take a random story and write down your views about it. This may be about the theme, characters, atmosphere, descriptions, vocabulary, just about anything.

46. Have a friend give you three random words, then use those words in any way, shape, or form. Write a vignette. A poem. A novel. Use the past participle of the word. Use the poetic concept that means nothing to anyone but yourself. Go nuts. The idea is to shake loose parts of your brain you weren't even considering using for fiction, without the pressure of coming up with a premise or concept, and it can produce some surprising results.

47. Start a spontaneous and free-form dialogue between your conscious self ("I") and your unconscious creative self. Give your creative self a separate identity, even a name or let the name come out of the dialogue. You can do the dialogue any way that's free-flowing and comfortable -- writing, tape recording, on the computer -- but you want to express it some way and also have a record of it afterward. After you've finished your dialogue, sit down and describe the personalities of the two speakers and the tone of the conversation. Two friends chatting? Mortal enemies baring teeth? You get the idea.

48. Freewrite. Choose one sentence in a paragraph and write a paragraph about it. Then choose one sentence from that paragraph and do it again.

49. People who tell you that physical exercise is important for mental activity are telling the truth. If nothing's happening on the computer screen or paper, take a walk around the block. Hit the treadmill or tennis courts or drive to the gym. But take your notebook with you. Fresh blood will be flowing through your brain and jogging might just jog something loose in your head.

50. Flip through a magazine. Cut out pictures, headlines, even certain blocks of text. Now write a short story based on your clippings.

Now that you have so many ways to get rid of the dreaded Writer’s Block, just kiss the damn thing goodbye and happy writing!

* * * * * * * * * *

Author's note: I would love to hear your comments about this piece. Did it help you? Anything you might add to make it better? I'm also interested in any personal incidents you might like to share which helped you with the block. Please do write. :)