2 comments/ 108203 views/ 4 favorites My Secret By: butch007 This is my secret story of something that happened to me several years ago, before my wife and I were married. We had dated for a long time and I would regularly join her and her family on overnight visits to their vacation home at the lake. We had all grown close and I was very comfortable there, so it was common for me to sleep over, as long as it was not with my girlfriend. (I was accepted as a friend/boyfriend, as we were not married yet!) On this particular occasion, we had gathered early in the weekend for a relaxing time at their lake house. This was a great time to let off some steam from school. It always helped to catch some peaceful hours of studying mixed with a mini-vacation. We played on the boat for a few hours, and then hung around the house that afternoon. Instead of going out that night, we all just had a few beers and watched television. Her folks called it an early evening and went to bed. My girlfriend stretched out on a recliner while I curled into the corner of the couch. Her sister took claim of the other end of the couch I was on and we all just vegged in front of the tube. Her younger sister was wearing cut-off shorts and had great legs, just like my wife's. I could not help but admire those two sets of legs surrounding me. After a while, my girlfriend got up to get changed for bed and her sister followed her off. As they went in to change, I finished my last beer for the night and settled myself by laying out more on the couch. My girlfriend came in first wearing her nightgown and stretched back down in the recliner. Shortly, her sister came back in, but to my delight, she was wearing a long white t-shirt for a nightgown. She tried to plop back down on her side of the couch and sort of plopped her feet in front of me since I was now in her way. It was nice feeling those smooth legs against mine and I could feel myself growing hard. We all just lay there and settled in for a late night of nothing. It all seemed so quiet and relaxing, but I was secretly going wild. I sort of cuddled with my girlfriend's sister, even though it was just our legs. I could not help casually glancing over so I could see up her t-shirt and catch just a glimpse of her white panties. As it got late, my girlfriend fell asleep and rolled over and away from the television and us. I felt my heart pound as her sister stretched out even more and her t-shirt hiked up. I don't know where I got the courage, but I slowly moved her feet as I sat up a little more. This placed her legs all the way over my lap with just a slight amount of pressure on my cock. I don't know if she noticed and had expected her to move away, but she just stayed there. Not much longer, I noticed that she was also asleep. At least, I think she was. I kept that position for a while and enjoyed the pleasure of her legs against my hard dick and kept looking over to see if she were really sleeping. In a bold move I casually laid my hand on her leg above her knee. Her soft skin and the smell of cocoanut suntan lotion were overwhelming me. That's probably why I kept going and slowly moved my hand up her leg until I was all the way on her thigh and pushed up against her t-shirt. That's when she stirred and I thought she'd jump away. Instead, she rolled over, curling her knees up and shifted her hip back. This movement caused her t-shirt to ride up. I could hardly believe this was happening. She had moved herself to where I could get a great view of her panties and my hand was still on her outside thigh and inches from her ass. My hand was almost shaking when I just let it slide down and my fingertips just barely slid under her panties to feel her smooth ass cheek. I was so absorbed with my slow and methodical movements, I forgot to look over to see if my girlfriend was still sleeping. She had never moved from her position facing away from us. Sister still hadn't moved either so I continued my bold adventure and eased my fingertips down further to gently settle between her thighs from behind. She did respond by sort of yawning as she settled and ever so slightly lifted her top leg, which parted her legs. Now I had a little more room to move my hand up to her crotch and brushed her panties with my fingers. My hard cock throbbed as I felt the heat and moisture from her pussy through her panties. I thought about easing my cock out, but with her legs over my lap, I couldn't chance it. I kept my slow and easy massage on her pussy, feeling the moisture soaking her panties. I then gently slid my finger along the hem and under, feeling her slick bare pussy lips. She gave a tiny little sigh and I thought her hips moved a little. I focused my slow movements to just my finger gliding up and down her pussy lip. Just when I was ready to try more, I heard the creaking of the recliner as my girlfriend stirred awake and started to get up. I almost yelped and thought I had been busted, but from where she was laying she could not see a thing. I'm sure I yanked my hand away, but she stayed asleep as I slowly rose out from under her legs. I kissed my girlfriend goodnight in the hallway and she could not help but notice my stiffness. She smiled and asked, "is that for me" and pulled me into a side room to finish our goodnight kiss. She pulled my hard cock out for a quick handjob and giggled when I came so quickly at the soft touch of her fingers. The rest of the weekend went uneventful and I tried to catch her sister's eye to see if she knew anything was up, but she never let on. We married shortly after graduation and to this day my sister never mentioned a thing. We stay close and when I see her now I always grow hard thinking about that night. My Secret Probably the most fun of having a secret is revealing it. Some secrets can be revealed almost right away. Other secrets must be kept and kept and kept and kept. This story is about a secret kept for almost forty years. I have told no one about it until now. The last of my co-conspirators died just a couple of weeks ago. She was my wife. It was at her funeral that I finally decided it was safe to tell, so if any of you happen to know who the real people are, or were, they cannot be damaged. Besides, the legal right to sue me or charge me with mayhem has long since expired. The person upon which our little secret crime was perpetrated is still living. I know because his name is still listed in the state medical society membership roll and on a hospital medical staff membership roll in California, well away from his Kingly rebellious subjects and victims in the large southern city in which we all trained. Immediately after completing my residency training in Urology, I moved out of state to this medium sized city I now live in. My home city is nestled in the foothills of the great smoky mountains in western North Carolina. I have practiced here for over thirty five years and enjoy a good reputation as Urologist. I smile a lot. I was married to the same beautiful girl I met in medical school. She continued to work as an Operating Room nurse until a few months ago when her health failed. We have three adult children none of whom are in the medical fields but all have families and are doing well in the business world. Sherrie and I had only one serious marital problem. This occurred while I was a senior resident in Urology. After some serious marriage counseling following her infidelity, we have lived a happy productive life together. She participated in our secret. I made her do this as a condition of our marriage continuing. It also made her a fellow conspirator so if she ever leaked the secret, she would bear equal responsibility. This fear and her commitment to fidelity to me were enough to keep her mouth closed yea these many years. She actually enjoyed participating and it gave her a sense of payback retribution. It did take me (us) a while to recover from her extra-marital affair with a fellow surgical resident. I couldn't take off like I hear others saying they did. I had to keep on "trucking along." Residents didn't take off time for family crises back then. You had to suck it up and keep going. Sherrie and I had this secret which helped us bond together as committed faithful monogamous lovers. On her deathbed she gave me permission to tell you, my dear readers. As I said earlier all the other participants had already died. They also took our secret to their graves. On occasion, about every five or six years, we would get together to celebrate our act of justice. Even at our reunions, we never spoke of it openly other than to grin and wink in recognition the bond we had as a result of our mutual satisfaction of a job well done. Justice is sometimes best served cold and anonymously. Certainly, secrecy was the only safe way in our situation. Now, on to the unfolding of my secret. It began while I was in my fourth year of post graduate surgical training. I had been married six years to the love of my life, Sherrie. Sherrie was a five foot 8 in slim beauty whose body still flowed in the most erotic fashion. She didn't seem to try to do that but it just comes naturally. Her buttocks moved independently which made me horny, even her memory does to this day. She had a very prominent pubic mound that was covered in a thick bush of dark brown shiny curly hair. It was very noticeable when she was in scrubs. More than one guy has cupped it 'accidentally'. She never allowed the touch to be prolonged beyond a half second or so. Her breasts were a full B cup until she breast fed our children. Then she became a generous C cup. I doubt she ever weighed more than 145 pounds unless she was pregnant. Her hips still moved erotically when she walked all the way up to her final days. As a youth, she practiced walking like the models and to end, she still walked as they still do. Her smile was demure. She batted her eyelids at me as an indication that she would like some bedroom type action. When the kids were gone, we used the kitchen table, the couch, the floor, the lounge chairs at poolside or the poolside it self. The shower provided us with especial sexual enjoyment. Well you get the gist. We enjoyed an active sex life together. Only that one time marred our perfect marriage. The wounds are healed but the memory of the fall out never completely faded in either of our memories. I am a tight built guy. Just an inch taller than Sherrie but I weigh in at 180 pounds. I have always worked at keeping my weight under control and my body fit by physical exercise and enough body building to look good whatever I am wearing or not. My equipment is average size except my penis is 8 inches when fully erect with an upward curve. Sherrie thought this upward curve was advantageous in stimulating her G spot during intercourse. With the slightly longer shaft than average and with the noticeable upward curve it was easy to penetrate her doggy style. She never perfected deep throating but could and did give me a wonderfully satisfying quickie oral jobs when I needed relief but we didn't have time for full intercourse. Yep, she swallowed but then used a mouth wash if we are going out or she is leaving for work. Neither of us had another sexual partner prior to marriage. We were both virgins. With my specialty, I was able to learn and teach about sexuality to the point that we both experienced everything a monogamous couple could ever do together. It was during our rapid learning curve years, during my postgraduate training, that Sherrie strayed. I was very busy during the first three years of postgraduate training. You may not be aware of just how busy surgical residents were required to be back a few years ago. They are still busy nowadays but not nearly what we had to endure to become surgeons back then. It was not unusual for us to have to stay in the hospital every other night. Frequently I had to be at the hospital by 5:30am and didn't get off until late the following afternoon or evening without getting to bed during the night. At other times, I was in the hospital 14 hour shifts, whether night or day shifts. These would run for as much as a month at a time. I was constantly tired. My third year my schedule began to lighten and in my fourth year I was almost on a reasonable schedule except that I was on call almost all the time; subject to being called in for surgery. It was during this time that Sherrie and I had problems. We survived the really tough times then she did it on the spur of the moment. On several occasions, we would be in the midst of heavy foreplay when my beeper would fire up. With no cell phones, I had to use the land line to call in and frequently have to interrupt our love making. Sherrie complained stating that being on call was worse than not being at home at all as life was totally unpredictable. She is a person who likes things to be in place. She does not do well with disorder and interruptions. I also like for things to be in order but I knew that interruptions are a part of every surgeons life, especially the resident surgeons life. Even with her need for order, she was so very spontaneous for sex. It seemed like she could be doing her routine duties at home and then on the spur of the moment, become so aroused and horny that she demanded release and satisfaction. I certainly had no objections but if I was not around she would rush off to a secluded place and masturbate. She was absolutely against any serious voyeur or exhibitionist behavior. She never used a dildo or vibrator to my knowledge. Her fingers or my cock was all she needed for a rumbling cascading orgasm. She was never vocal during a climax but during foreplay and intercourse she always urged me on in the most erotic terms and fashion. She never left me unsatisfied. Her life was much more predictable being an OR nurse. She was busy and had a lot of responsibility but she knew when she was off. She got called in only for multiple trauma or disasters when more than one OR was needed to be functional. Harold was a fellow surgical resident. He refused to respond to anything other than Dr. McQueen. Call him Harry or even Harold and he would ignore you. He even required the faculty to call him "Dr. McQueen". He addressed them as Dr. so and so, never using first names in a familiar way. Nurses were always addressed as "Nurse Helen" or "Nurse Sherrie". He never used last names for nurses or anyone who was not his equal or superior. In the doctors lounge or doctors scrub area, he would talk derisively of patients, hospital administrators, politicians, nurses etc. He was quick to identify himself as superior to others. His aloofness and superiority complex led him into trouble with other resident physicians. The irritating fact is that he was superior in many ways. He was a six foot three inch blond brightly blue eyed young man with perfect teeth and body. He was in fact handsome beyond belief. He had a rugged angular face and without a single wrinkle. His hands were strong with long fingers that he kept perfectly manicured. His face and body were sculpted. He stood tall and straight and walked with a certain air of arrogance. He rarely smiled but when he did, it was a condescending smile, that is unless he was on the prowl for strange pussy. He had trouble holding eye contact except in the hunt. A glance was his best at communicating with his eyes. His body language always exuded confidence, superiority and arrogance. He was extremely intelligent and talented in the visual arts. He had great hand eye coordination. He was a good artist, specializing in charcoal sketches of the human body, with or without clothing. He had graduated as first in the class in class in high school, college and medical school. There was no denying that he really was handsome, intelligent and talented. Yet he was hated by many. In his eyes, humility was a sign of weakness and belonged to the lower classes, meaning everyone other than Dr. McQueen At the time of this story, he was completing his residency in Plastic Surgery. Even as a resident, his skills were already way beyond those of a number of plastic surgeons in the city including the faculty. He truly was destined for fame, fortune and riches and he knew it. He was quick to let everyone else know it also. He was both idolized and hated. It was easy to watch him flirting with and seducing nurses. He was a smooth operator, in the O.R and everywhere else. He had the gentle touch of the master seducer. He reserved his demur smiles for his prey. It seems he was hated more by some of the married male residents and a growing number of the female nursing and female administrative staff. Rumors had it that he made seducing wives of residents his specialty although any halfway beautiful young woman could become a target of his romantic attentions. Rumors were that several marriages were broken because of his forays. There was even one legal action taken against him by an angry female employee, This somehow disappeared quietly. When we confronted him about these rumors his standard reply would be "You are jealous. Don't you wish you had those kind of rumors about your talents in bed circulating. I know you wish you had what I have." Then he stand tall, stretch his arms toward the ceiling, which he could almost touch, then cup and adjust his crotch and say something demeaning before exiting in an obvious strut. He exuded arrogance and indifference to the feelings of others. Life was all about pleasuring Dr. McQueen. I really think he had a personality disorder. I once found myself in the doctors lounge between cases on an early spring morning. I was having a bit of breakfast and my second cup of coffee when "Harry Boy" as he was known derisively, came strutting into the doctors lounge and threw himself into one of the plush chairs next to where I was sitting munching on some fruit. Lifting his leg up over the arm rest, he reached over and took my cup of coffee and took a long swig. Of course he never asked me if he could for he knew I would say no. "Damn, Jon, do you actually drink this shit?" He sat my cup back down on the magazine table between our chairs. "You know, I only drink fresh ground bean coffee, not this crap." "Thanks 'Harry boy' I replied in sarcasm. "You can have the rest of my coffee if you like, it will mix well with all the rest of the shit you dish out to us lowly peons. I can't drink after you, I might catch syphilis or some other STD. Worse yet, I might catch a terrible and fatal case of "plastic surgeon arrogance." God knows where your pristine mouth was last night. Did you enjoy those big black balls I ground up in your dinner last night." I beamed and grinned. "Attempts to irritate me fall on deaf ears, you know, Jon I just consider the source of such feeble attempts to dethrone me. Your aspersions are cast at the wrong person." He rose to nibble at the fruit on the serving line. "Jon you may not know this yet, but I have already had your sweet little Sherrie as desert a number of times. I intend to have her for as long as I find her bushy mound a suitable bumper for my manhood." With this he smiled that demeaning smile, bowed slightly and strutted out of the lounge. "God how I hate him." I said out loud. What he said really did hurt and anger me. He was a work of art, made of cow manure. "Someone will bring him down to earth one day." one of my friends stated. "Hopefully it will happen sooner rather than later" I stated as I left to scrub in again as I had been paged for my second case of the morning. That afternoon, I thought the unthinkable. Had my Sherrie been unfaithful or was his braggadocio all smoke screen intended too hurt me? By late afternoon, I was tired but had completed post operative rounds and charting. The service was quiet and in the hands of capable junior residents. I signed out on my way to the parking lot. My mind was increasingly tormented with the thought that he could have seduced my Sherrie. I had no proof and really no evidence or any real suspicion. I decided to just put my watchfulness on high alert. I had never done this before but with "Harry boy's" bragging, I had to be sure. That night Sherrie and I had a nice supper we fixed together along with a single glass of blush wine. After the meal we were sitting facing each other across our small table. We had been talking about our days at the hospital. "Sherrie, You know I love you?" "Of course I know that, Jon. Usually you just say you love me rather than asking me if I know it. What's on your mind?" "Well that arrogant son of a bitch, his highness, 'Dr. McQueen' made a sexual slur about you today in the doctors lounge. I was going to take a poke at him but decided not to yet." "Just what kind of a slur did he make? You know he is a talented surgeon even if he is a bit self centered. So what did he say about me that made you angry?" I had Sherrie's undivided attention now. I kept my eyes focused on her to see her reaction to my next statement. "Sherrie, he said, that he had fucked you and was going to keep on banging his cock against that pussy bumper of yours." She just sat immobile for a moment saying nothing. "And I guess you believed him, huh? Jon?" "No. Of course not. I just wanted you to know that he is going around the hospital bragging about getting into your pants on a regular basis. You know how rumors get started and he has started one that could damage you and us. He cares nothing about other people. He just uses them for his own purposes then discards them. Has he used you in that way or is his bragging entirely smoke and no fire?" This time she flinched just a little. It took her a full five seconds before denying such vigorously. "Jon, how can you even think of such foolishness?" I noted she did not immediately deny the accusation but attacked me for believing it. I now had grave dark doubts. "Sherrie, I never said I believed him. He is such an arrogant bastard that no one in their right mind would believe his bragging. There are rumor mongers around that undoubtedly will try to make things worse for you and me and, as a result, us. Our marriage. He has done that to others." I looked directly in her eyes. "Sherrie, I can forgive you if he has seduced you for a quickie or even two. That is if you confess to me. If I somehow or other, come upon evidence that you have cheated, and I'm not saying that I will go looking, though I might, reconciliation will be a lot harder, if not impossible. I know that Harold boy is a handsome, self confident man and can be quite charming when he wants to be. A number of marriages have been in serious trouble on account of his seductions and sexual prowess. He brags of his conquests just like a teenager would in a locker room. I think he checked his maturation growth at the high school door and never went back to pick it up. He is a true hedonist, a guy with a serious personality disorder that will never change." I kept her in focus as we spoke. "Why are you staring at me , Jon?" She was beginning to loose her usual very emotional cool. She was fidgeting with her fingers and glancing around the room only to finally focus on the wall behind me. "Sherrie, by your words and actions, I now, for the very first time, believe there is some fire with all his smoke. If you confess tonight while we are sitting here, I guarantee you I will forgive you and we will move on together. If you have been unfaithful and don't confess, then our marriage is in serious trouble. Now if you are totally innocent, then please don't confess to what you haven't done." I could tell she was distraught and about to break out in tears. I moved over to her and took her hand and took her to the couch to sit beside her with my arms around her. She laid her cheek on my chest as I fingered her hair. She was tearing. I moved my fingers to her face and felt the tears of remorse. "I forgive you, Sherrie." I said in all quiet sincerity. "Do you accept my forgiveness?" I knew if she said yes that she had confessed. "I love you, Jon. I have dishonored you and broken that bond of trust between us. We only did it once in the equipment room off the surgical suites. We had just finished a case together and he had flirted with me the entire three hours. As we left the O.R. we went through he store room. It was there he grabbed me and held me firm as he kissed me and pulled him to himself. He was very hard. His cock pressed into my stomach and his tongue split my lips. You know how fast I can become horny and he trigger that response. We were alone as he untied my scrubs and pulled them down. He had his off in no time. I had only a thong on and he just pulled it down hard, bent me over a dolly and took me doggy style. We were done in les than two or three minutes. I was grief stricken immediately afterwards. I had to shower three times trying to get him off me and getting his cum out of my pussy. My life has been a lie for the last week but I guess I have been able to fool you until now." She began to openly sob and quiver. I pulled her closer to me. She had done an awful thing. I believed her when she said it was only once and then only a quickie. I was angry more at him than her. I was disappointed in her. Worse yet, his bragging had a foundation. My ego was severely damaged. I hurt but my anger was more toward him. He had broken other marriages but he was not going to break mine. He would not have that satisfaction. "Sherrie, come on, my love. We are both hurting. I need to know you love me and you need to know I love and forgive you. You also need to know that if it happens again, then we are through as a couple. Do you understand me. Tell me!" My Secret "I love you , Jon. This will never, never happen again." We kissed. I believed her. We slept together again, but had no sex for several days. Before we had sex she voluntarily went to her gynecologist for a check up and testing for STD's. This was before the era of HIV or Herpes. I told her I did not want any more of the details. She tried to tell me but I steadfastly told her that knowing the details would only hurt me more. She never brought it up again except in the marriage counseling we underwent together. Harold never brought it up again either. Sherrie had told him if he said anything that she would come into the doctors lounge and tell all the doctors what a little penis he had and how he was unable to satisfy her. He never mentioned her again. I, on the other hand, had an issue with him. He was not going to get off Scot free. I did not confront him as I had to have time to come up with a much more sophisticated plan or justice and retribution. I had Sherrie do some nosing around among the nurses and other staff as to Harold's sexual activities. She uncovered a ton of crap about him. One was one of the hospital's administrative staff whose family had been severely tested by the amorous Dr. McQueen. Another of the nursing staff also confessed to Sherrie of her marriage having been broken up. She was still on staff but no longer in the O.R. or surgical floors. Yet another was a nurse anesthetist who had had a longer affair with him and had even got pregnant by him but had had an abortion which he refused to pay for. She was especially angry at him. Sherrie even discovered one of the women who worked in the central supply had had an affair which had cost her, her marriage. All these women were angry at him. He always promised to be discreet but then just couldn't keep his secret. His need to brag always won out over his honesty. As Sherrie delved deeper into allegations against him, the women began to tell of other women they thought had been with dear Harold. Some had no relationship to the hospital. Sherrie actually went to interview one of these sexually abused women. All were reluctant to reveal there infidelity but Sherrie had a way of comforting them and promising them their day would come, even if they never knew of it. A plan was now taking form. I discussed it with Sherrie first. She was reluctant initially then became a prime mover. She talked to each of the other women about the concept. Each committed to be entirely discreet and keep our secret forever. Now we only had to wait for the perfect timing. Each person was assigned specific tasks which each undertook with cautious enthusiasm. Equipment was identified as were supplies and medications. I met separately with each participant to get the plan organized. From the administrator I found out his Birthday. Fortunately it was only three weeks away. I decided that a Birthday party would be the perfect mode for action. Harold enjoyed such a foul reputation that few would voluntarily honor him with a party. The party was to be at a local five star hotel. Oddly, this is the hotel at which one of his victims was event coordinator. She was a willing and enthusiastic party to our plan. She would and did handle all "arrangements" to perfection. The plans were ornate, appropriate to the tastes of a king. These were detailed to him in extravagant terminology in a specially designed ornate invitation delivered by hand to his apartment. A luxury limo would pick him up at his apartment and transport him to the party of a life time . After all, this was his final birthday before he completed his training. In the limo was to be chilled Champaign and fresh strawberries. On arrival he would be escorted to the party room. His sexual pleasure was to be totally satisfied. After the party he would be transported back to his apartment in the luxury limo. He was to wear formal wear. Harold accepted, The hook was set. What he did not know was that the only other party participants were also participants in our sordid plan On the evening of his party, the limo appeared. One of his previous conquests escorted him to the limo. Dressed in a stunning evening dress, she was careful to flirt with him, touching him gently and seductively. In the limo was another of his previous conquests, also dressed seductively who flattered and flirted with him. He was served Champaign with fresh strawberries. His skills as a surgeon were praised without cease. He was complimented in everything he did and how he looked. The flattery set him at ease as these beauties continuously suggested how they would pleasure him at the party. Arriving at the hotel, they entered via the VIP separate entrance, reserved for celebrities who wished to avoid the paparazzi. The separate VIP elevator was used. Neither Harold Nor any of the participants were viewed by the public. The hook sank deeper. At the party all were signed in and verified by the events manager as being present. Documentation was going to be important and we did this. I was the only participant who attended unseen and I was the only male involved. I waited in the private serving area until my time arrived. The room was adorned with Happy Birthday signs, balloons confetti and cards. A single nicely decorated table with wines, Champaign, various fruits and light hors d'oeuvre completed the charade. My precious Sherrie sat next to him, touching and gently caressing his arms as she filled his wine glass with Champaign. He grinned like the cat that had just swallowed the canary. Turning her back to him secretly she mixed a generous amount of ecstasy into his second Champaign serving. Sherrie then stood and in her most formal voice called out for a toast to the honored guest and "doctor of the century". All the beautiful women, dressed in stunning sexy dresses raised their wine stems (filled with sparkling white grape juice) and toasted "THE Dr. McQueen" They wished him long life and continued successes to the pinnacle of celebrity status stardom. Good old Harold ate this praise up, and drank his tainted Champaign in a single gulp. He stood and thanked his 'subjects' for recognizing his prowess and superiority. The party continued with good food and much laughter. Harold gradually began to lose it. Sherrie suggested he had had a little to much to drink and suggested he rest a few minutes, He readily agreed. His legs were wobbly as several of his beauties guided him on to rolling serving table with white sheets and pillow which mysteriously had appeared from a side room. Rapidly, the nurse anesthesiologist had both arms and hands restrained and the first dose of IV medication administered to him. He was immediately into lala land. Appropriate monitoring was placed on him and a face mask delivering gas from an anesthesia machine begun to remove him temporarily from this world of pain. Sherrie had already produced a surgical pack and other rolling tables appeared where sterile fields were set up. Enter now, the lowly Dr. Jon, subservient cuckold urologist. Quickly the team had Harold boy's trousers an shorts down to below his knees. His genital were shaved and sterilized with beta dynes. A sterile field isolated his genitals. By now, my ever efficient and organized Sherrie, the accomplished O.R. Nurse, had everything under control. Here we all were, surrounded by wine glasses, Champaign bottles, and party paraphernalia from the ceilings. A sterile surgical suite was magically set in the setting of gaiety. Spectators grinned and hi-fived as his genitals took front and center of our attention. One could almost see them glowing with soon to be reduced arrogance in the now bright lights Silence pervaded the atmosphere. No one dared to breathe as the unbelievable was about to start. Yet, I sensed a spirit of joy, optimism mixed with a touch of anxiety and relief from all of us. Yet there was a tinge of sadness as we each recognized how he had injured our lives and stolen from each of us, that which should never have been shared. Our own weaknesses were shared with all the others. Perhaps we even felt a sense of grim determination to make this evil person pay in full, yet his payment would never relieve our distress from what he had done to us of our families. The doors had been locked as we stood gazing at the weapon that had injured so many. It was not really large yet we projected an evil face upon it. "Ladies." I announced, "Justice and retribution is imminent. We are forever sworn to silence. We now must trust each other as never before. He who used you for his own perverted needs now stands before his accusers as jury and judges. You all only attended a party. He was never here. My dear wife, whom he violated needs some help to escort he who was never here to home. She needs two helpers. Who will volunteer to help our subject back to his apartment?" Three others volunteered. "Your services are accepted. Now we need a vote as this is our first, only and last chance to deliver justice. Do you want justice or mercy? Should this evil man escape to reap a lifetime of evil seductions and domination? If justice is your answer, do I take only the penis, only the testicles or both. I think the best is to amputate, leaving his testosterone making factories to fuel his lust for conquests but leaving him unable to have his prurient needs satisfied. What do you say?" I looked each into their faces and each nodded silent agreement to the dastardly deed to be performed. Justice was to reign supreme. What ever mercy there was to be was in God's hands. Ours were to deliver justice and protect unsuspecting women he might meet in the future. We were in agreement and determined to proceed. "Harold," I addressed the unconscious body laying splayed out in front of me, "I have waited for this day since you violate my precious Sherrie and sullied our marriage. Thank you for bragging about that one exploit. You will now enjoy a lifetime of unfulfilled and unrequited, continuing over stimulated sexual desires. Here's to your future." as I held the scalpel high with my right hand and pulled his circumcised penis into the air to it's maximum." "Nurse, Mary, (our gas passer) is our good patient adequately under?" "Yes, doctor." She smiled and gave me a thumbs up. It took me exactly seven minutes to amputate the organ that had abused each of the women in the room and had made me a cuckold. I left just enough stump of his smaller than average cock so he could have an erection enough to rub painfully on his underwear. The entire head and most of the shaft was sacrificed. Bleeding was minimal. The sutures were subcutaneous, not requiring removal. A Foley Catheter was placed and taped into position. "Let him up, Nurse Mary." I announced triumphal. We placed a sheet over him and rolled him on the rolling serving table to the elevator and out to the waiting limo. Three very happy women helped the still drugged Harold in to the limo and subsequently to his apartment. He would remember nothing as the Ecstasy would assure that. I and the others helped clean up the room. That was the easy part. As the party was over, our events manager verified everyone's presence before we left for our homes or apartments. Our stories were repeated and corroborated again. We had had a great party together. Neither Harold nor I had been there. His invitation card had been retrieved and went into the trash bag. The limo had been rented using cash. Upon return the copies of drivers licenses were retrieved and the operators silence bought with five one hundred bills. The limo company's records showed that the limo had never been signed out that night. All traces of surgery had been bundled into black plastic bags and deposited in the back of my old pickup truck. Subsequently these were placed without notice in the hospitals incinerator bin. The incinerator was scheduled to be fired up at 3 am. All traces disappeared. I slept well in the hospital that night. Well as you might guess, all hell broke loose next day. The police were sniffing around everywhere. Rumors in the hospital were rampant. Seems like many were delighted. I had a solid excuse as I had been in the hospital all night. The emotionally injured administrator vouched for me. She had created proof that I had stayed the night in the hospital. The investigation finally cooled off. The police believed that a secret this big would come out eventually, then the perpetrators would be charged. No one was ever charged. I never let the good Doctor McQueen know I had been involved. He accused me and I reminded him that slander was a crime so unless he had some proof, he better keep his tongue as silent as his missing cock. He was the butt of many a comments, snickers and guffaws in the doctors lounge for years to come. Harold never came into the doctors lounge again. He completed his residency and moved to the west coast to practice. Peace returned to the hospital staff. I miss my Sherrie terribly but probably not as much as good old Harry ever missed his cock. Maybe he went gay. At least he learned how to take it up his ass. Well, I have gained some modicum of pleasure from relating this my secret. In a way, it remains a pleasant secret as those others involved are now beyond my hearing. Hopefully they lay grinning in their coffins. I know I shall one day join them for an eternity of reunions around our liberation of spirit as justice was delivered. My grieving for Sherrie has been relieved somewhat by telling our secret. We, the participants, were all faithful to each other to the end. My Secret I like the idea of Exhibitionism. I want to get naked in front of people and be sexy. I want the thrill of seeing a guy that I don't know get an embarrassingly large hard-on while I parade my tits or ass or show a little pussy. I would love to go panty-less all the time. The idea, and even writing about the idea right now make me horny and not to mention, wet. My husband and I have toyed with certain ideas and spoken of them during love-making, but the only things we've done in real life are to go to a special dinner without my wearing any panties. I like the idea of exhibitionism--it makes me hot and horny, but I'm not the type to get out there and really show-off. Once in Mexico I came close to showing my tits to a waiter, by leaning forward braless, in a loose blouse, but he didn't notice, and I kinda chickened out and didn't really make it obvious enough either. But I do remember being so horny with anticipation, and my husband's penis was slathered in pre-cum when we got back to our hotel. He liked the idea, and I liked the idea, but I haven't got any guts. One other thing we did once is I gave my husband a hand job all the way to cumming, in the car parking lot of a major mall here in the cities--The Mall of America. My husband said this was the hottest thing I ever did for him. I had just suggested it out of the blue after he helped with dinner one night. I went over while he was watching TV and whispered in his ear, "Hey honey, what do you say I take you to a public parking lot and give you a hand job or blow job in the car, where we might get caught." I don't know what had gotten into me, but it was a great idea, and I never usually ever do anything like this for him. Once there by the way my husband was already busting out of his jeans. I pulled him out and used my own spit to get him lubed up. After a while, I had to show him my tits to get him hot enough to get off. This made me really horny, even though there was zero chance anyone could see us from the way out section we were parked in. I jerked and begged him to cum, which turns him on, and he tensed and groaned and shot his stuff all over himself, me and our Dodge Caravan. He even hit the headliner. I was really horny, and when I got him home, I took him to bed and we came together for the very first time. My husband wants to go to an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean that has a clothing optional area, and which is somewhat famous for couples getting loose and naughty in the pools, at the beaches and in the nature surrounding the place. I'm dying to go too, deep down, and I want him to push the issue, but I'm also super chicken and have told him, "No way!" I wish I had the courage. Before I get too old (I'm 49 now, but cute hot) I really want to do it, for him, for me, and for us. I want to feel the thrill of getting naked, horny and even screwed while others watch it all. We are good at sex too. My guy gets me off, makes my pussy ooze and squirt when I'm loose enough and humping him from on top. We could really put on a show, and I know I could get guys and even gals to rub and tug at themselves. But, alas, I am a wimp! Plain and simple. "Damn!" But now I will tell you a secret. My husband and I have been looking at internet porn together for probably that last seven years, even from the dial-up days. I only do it with him around, but I always like it when he wants too, cause it does get my juices a flowing. I never ask to watch, because I don't want to seem like I like it too much, and because if I asked every time I really wanted to, I would be watching every damn time we went at it. So, I have to depend on my husband's desire for the internet porn. He asks only once in a while, mostly cause he probably thinks I would think he's porn addicted if he wanted it too much. So, we watch it. Its good for our sex life. But neither of us are watching it as much as we want too. I think we are a bit hung up. Anyhow, on to the big secret. We like the kind of internet porn where the people having sex are taking their own home movies. We hate 70's porno music playing and fake boobs and the like. We like it when the camera is on the nightstand and we get to watch a couple or a threesome get horny and get off for reals. I love seeing the man's penis get unveiled. I love seeing the different sizes and shapes, and how they start our floppy and get rock hard after they are rubbed and sucked. I even like watching a girl's body, and I'm no lesbian. But I get turned on looking at all the nakedness and bodies touching and grinding. I love it when a couple kisses while the make love. Lately though we've seen a host of POV videos. I had no idea what one was, but we quickly learned that POV meant "point of view." In these POV movies, one partner or the other holds the camera and films the action while they do it. And, here is my dirty little secret. I want to do this. I want to get hot and horny while either myself or my husband holds the camera and films us. I don't want my face to show, and I don't even want my wedding ring on so I can't be recognized. But I want to do it and then post it to one of these websites. Then I want to go back to our video and watch the comments from those who watch. I want to allow the comments of the people out there to get me horny. My secret is simple--Exhibitionism from the comfort and privacy of my own bedroom, without any opportunity of being caught. I think knowing where our movie was going would make our sex really hot, and I think seeing how many had viewed us after a week or so would make us even hotter still. I know my husband will do it, as long as no faces can be seen--and I think this will make me look even sexier to him, as he's usually the gamer, and I'm usually the scared-i-cat. My Motorola phone has, not only movie capabilities, but I can edit the movies to make sure our identities stay anonymous. I'm so wet even now admitting my secret Thanks for reading my confession. If you'd like to see our stuff perhaps drop me a line. If you have a video to share, send me the link. As you can tell, I'm a new to all this. Thanks again for reading. My Secret Every day drained my soul a little more, numbing boredom and loneliness were my alarm clock and bedtime stories. What had happened to the days when I was in college, throwing the parties that everybody talked about all week long, well until the next one started anyhow! Hell, even after college as a regular at the local nightclubs knowing when they shut down it was my place everyone headed to. Oh yeah I know what happened, her! She came into the club with a group of friends for a girls night out. They took over the dance floor with the goal of turning every man's head, all but her. She sat at the bar sipping a drink and shaking her head at them. Although I liked the wild aggression of her friends there was something about her that sucked me in. I sent a drink down a few minutes before I approached her. She smiled, motioned that her drink was still full, and then teased me that it looked like I was hoping she would get drunk. We laughed and the conversation rolled on all night. We could feel people around us but I could only see and hear her. She invited me back to her house and I knew she would not forget my name because she screamed it all night and into the morning. I was always good at that part. As the days and weeks went by we found more time for each other. The normal courting began with dinner, movies, and wild crazy sex that left us weak but wanting more. Attached at the hip I think my friends called it. It was amazing how comfortable I was with her and as the next few years flew by we got married. The perfect couple full of passion and love, impossible to separate. Still going out with our good friends and shaking the foundations of every club we entered. When we realized we had a baby on the way and it was a son, I could have lifted a truck over my head from the adrenaline. Just like you see in the movies with a happy couple and their baby with a white fence and all. But when our son was born, she almost died from Preeclampsia. It was the first time in my life I felt fear and joy at the same moment. Everything eventually turned out and for the next few years it was wonderful. Then something happened, not sure when or why but I noticed that she pulled away. I was okay with doing the cooking, cleaning, taking care of my boy, but she started working late and when she got home she went to bed. If I tried to wrap my arms around her in the kitchen and kiss her she moved away, at night the bed could not be colder. I could not take it any longer so I asked what was going on and that is when I found out she did not feel comfortable with the responsibilities of having a family. Information I could have used about 4 years earlier. My heart was torn out, now what? She barely did anything but I did not want our son dealing with separated parents like I did as a child. So we decided that we would pretend for now. There was no fooling our families and friends but everybody was 'sociable' and our son was the happiest kid in the world. So for years I sat in the dark late at night waiting for the house to be quiet. I would head to the spare bedroom and stare at the ceiling, wondering how long life would be this way. One of my best friends told me I needed to find something to do or I would lose it, so we started playing poker online on facebook. We got on several nights a week to bullshit together, blow off a bit of steam. People we played with started adding me as a friend and I met some incredible people. These new friends sent me game requests and before I knew it I was online every night. Then I found you. I don't even remember where or how, but I found myself chatting with you outside of the games. Telling you my real thoughts, sharing my real feelings as I knew you were doing with me. We were both lonely, longing to have someone to share life with who wanted and who cared for us the same way. We became playful, going out of our way to tease each other with erotic pictures and flirtatious comments. Eventually you sent me a real picture, one that took my breath away. I had never even imagined that I made you feel that way for real but I could tell by the way you were touching yourself this was more. I was so aroused I thought I would burst. Heavy throbbing made me unzip my pants to release the tension. I looked down as my hard cock reached out to you on the screen. Without thinking I grabbed my camera and snapped a pic, downloaded it and sent it on. Holy shit what did I just do, I could feel the blood rush to my face and stomach churning a little with nerves. I am just a normal guy, someone as beautiful as you would have nothing to do with me. This had to just be a random moment where you were horny and nothing more. You needed physical touch as much as I did and you were reaching out for it. You sent me another message and when I thought my face could not get any redder than it was already, I am pretty sure my skin burst into flames. I had always heard of people cyber sexing but I was about to have my first experience. You described what seeing me did to your body as I did with you. You begged me to take you and without hesitation I took you. "My mouth finds yours for the first time as your parted lips welcome me in. We undress each other as my mouth follows the nape of your neck and I taste your sweet skin. My hands exploring the soft flesh of your breasts as I kiss down your body. Squeezing them into my mouth as I sucked your nipples hard inside. You moan as my lips send shivers down your body. I peel off your panties and continue to kiss down your stomach as I feel your hands slide into my hair. Pressing my tongue into you, my eyes find yours. I see you're chewing on your lip to hold back from screaming out as I devour you. I watch your whole body tremble as waves of orgasms cover your body." (you tell me you are cumming, cumming harder than you have in years as you look at my cock and touch yourself to my words. I just about loose my load when I hear that.) I continue creating a fantasy sexual experience for you, wanting more, wanting all of you. I know you need it, you deserve to feel passion again and I was bringing it to you here and now. I am not even sure when I started stroking my rigid cock but at one point I realized how much harder typing to you had become. "As your body trembles I taste you, my desires become uncontrollable as I climb back up your body and you feel the crown of my cock pressing into you slowly. Every inch finding your core, deeper I go, we are one. Our bodies move together slowly as I lean down to kiss your full lips. You cum over and over as I move fast and deeper inside you. I feel your nipples against my hairy chest and I take them back in my mouth one at a time. Ohhhhh you are so damn sexy, I want you so, and I beg you not to stop. Our motions becoming more forceful with each other as I thrust harder into you and you lift your hips up into me. I lean back to watch your body bouncing beneath me. (oh god I am close, fuck I tell you that I don't think I can hold on. You beg me to cum. To feel as good as I make you feel. I can barely type.) "As I watch your tits floating beneath me, I feel your pussy tighten around my shaft squeezing and pulling me in deep... Oh fuck...cum with me now... I need it now... fuck me oh god... hold me... cum with me baby please!" (I erupt shooting cum all over my computer, hands, and keyboard. I can't move...I had not cum in so long, my whole body shook so hard, breathing ragged, I physically could not move. I knew you had too because there was dead silence on our chat. Holy fuck did I yell out? Did anybody hear me...I frantically cleaned up and listened for her to wake...nothing.) "Baby are you there?" "Yes baby I love you" The comment that would scare most men in that situation sent a warm soothing feeling over me. We chatted for a moment but both had to take showers so we bid each other a good night. The next day I waited to see if you would contact me. The morning was busy at work but I kept my screen up just hoping. Every time it chimed my heart jumped. "Good morning sexy" You followed your greeting up with a few new pics. We talked, laughed, and teased each other for the whole day. Weeks and months went by and we continued to spend time with each other through the good and bad days adding bright spots to each other's lives. We even sent online holiday cards to each other. One night as you were heading home from work you heard one of my favorite songs on the radio and knew when you got home that you had to tell me about it. You pulled into the drive to see another car already parked. Sitting on the porch was a man and his son watching you approach. Your heart went right to your throat when you saw me and you would have cried if you were not trying to be strong for my son. I stood up and greeted you with a careful hug, holding you against me gave me that feeling of coming home that I had been missing for over a decade. My boy looked at you and stuck his hand out and introduced himself like he was brought up to do. "We were in the area shopping for a new home and I knew you lived around here, maybe you could show us around." The tear streaked your cheek as you invited us in for dinner. You assured us that you could help us find a loving new home. My Secret Admirer I have always loved to write. I've thought about writing a book, but I have yet to find a topic I was interested enough in to devote that much time to. Besides, I once heard that no one should write a book until they are over fifty—that they can't possibly know enough—have experienced enough of life to have anything interesting to say until then. At twenty nine, I have a long way to go, so I have contented myself with writing short stories—erotica to be more specific. I found a website called Literotica, and I fell in love with it instantly. By obeying a few simple rules, one could upload a story, and others could read it, rate it—and even comment on it. After posting my first story, I became frustrated at how few readers actually took the time to rate it, and only a small percentage of those posted public comments. I thought, "How rude of them." Still, I loved watching the number of readers roll by. Over the weeks after posting a story, the numbers were staggering—5K, 15K, 30K, 75K. I became addicted to trying to imagine so many people from all over the world, sitting in front of their computers and reading the words I'd written. Did they masturbate while reading it, or maybe afterward? Did their spouse enjoy the passion or lust my story invoked? I had made the decision early on not to stick to the lighter genres like "Romance" and "Erotic Couplings". I wanted to explore the limits of my own imagination. I posted stories in genres that were so foreign to me, I could barely comprehend that it was me typing the words. I wrote about group sex, fetishes, incest, anal sex, exhibitionism and much more. I'd never experienced any of those things, but I loved imagining them and describing my fantasies of them in great detail. While typing the words, I would feel as if I were actually doing those things. It always made me wet beyond my own belief. I almost always masturbated after writing a new chapter, sometimes for days afterward. On more than one occasion, I had to pause writing long enough to masturbate before I could continue typing. I had chosen to let my readers see my email address—the Yahoo email I'd set up for the sole purpose of receiving feedback from Lit readers—PlainJane, the same as my Lit username. That username described me well. Very, very few took the time to send an email. I responded to those who did, thanking them for taking the time. And I gladly took to heart their criticisms and suggestions for future stories. I was working on my fifth story when I heard the famous yodel. I was excited, knowing it was Yahoo notifying me that I had new mail. My excitement, though, was dampened quickly as I read it: "Dallas: If you write another story, you should give the main female character your real name. Your Secret Admirer" My jaw dropped and I struggled to breathe. No one on Lit could possibly know my name is Dallas. Hell, Yahoo didn't even know that. I'd used a fake name to open my Yahoo account. How could they . . .? * * * For the entirety of the following week, I could think of little else. I couldn't concentrate at work. As the manager of a national chain restaurant, I needed to be able to concentrate—to always be cheerful to both customers and employees. I needed my happy mood to infect them, and I'd always been great at it—until now. The customers didn't know the difference so much, but the employees surly did, more than one asking me what was wrong. I couldn't write a word, couldn't think straight, and I barely ate. I did manage to sleep for two or three hours almost every night—with the help of alcohol and exhaustion. I was tempted to call the police, but what would I tell them? I was sure they would blow me off once they found out I wrote and posted sexually explicit stories on the internet. I'm sure they would think to themselves, "Duh! What did you expect?" I could live without that embarrassment. After eight days, I finally gathered myself and my nerves. I opened my Yahoo email, clicked on the message that had disturbed me so greatly, and clicked the "Reply" button. I typed simply, "Who are you?" and hit "Send" before I could change my mind. * * * It was three days before I got a response. This time, the email was a bit more informative. I sensed that the sender somehow knew how much their email had disturbed me and was making a futile attempt to put my mind at ease. "Dallas: Two things: First, you have nothing to fear from me. It is very important for you to understand that. I am not a stalker. I don't follow you around taking pictures of you—spying on you. I don't need to do that. And secondly, I will never approach you—unless of course, you ask for a meeting. Again, please believe me. You have nothing to fear from me. Your Secret Admirer" Wow! If they were trying to put my mind at ease, they had failed miserably. Their words, "I don't need to do that", kept echoing through my brain. What the hell did that mean? * * * "What do you want from me?" And then I clicked the "Send" button. Again, it was three days before I got a response. "Dallas: Conversation—that's all. All I want is an open and honest conversation with you, nothing more. You Secret Admirer" I responded immediately, "What kind of conversation? If you want Cybersex, you can forget it. I'm not into all that fake shit. I don't care how badly you need to jack off." Send. I was surprised to get their response the next day: "Dallas: Lol, I don't need you for that. If I need to get myself off, I can manage that quite nicely without your help. I want to talk about your stories. You restrain yourself too much. You don't set your fingers free to type what is inside your mind. You are writing for your readers—not for you. Your readers need you to delve into your brain. Take a flashlight in there with you and shine it into the darkest corners. Sweep away the cobwebs, and then write about what you find there. Your Secret Admirer" What the . . .? How could anyone possibly know what was in the darkest corners of my mind? I didn't even know what was in there. I read that email over and over and over, shut off my computer, and didn't return to it for several days. * * * "Maybe I don't want to know what is in there." Send. "Dallas: We all have hidden fantasies. You need not fear them or be ashamed of them. You should embrace them—pursue them even. Also, it would improve your stories greatly if not every female had perfect breasts. A woman can be very sexy without having a chest full of 38DDs. You are proof of that, especially since you rarely wear a bra in public. I'm sure you rationalize not wearing one as being simply because your breasts are too small to require one, but I know better. I know it's because you enjoy the approving smile of a male onlooker when he sees your taut nipples announcing their presence under one of the light sleeveless blouses you often wear. Tell me I'm wrong. "Your Secret Admirer" Wow! Wow! And Wow! That single email revealed so much, I had trouble disseminating it all. He just told me that he didn't know me from work. I always wore a bra at work. He also revealed that he knows what I look like, perhaps even where I live, shop, eat out . . . have my oil changed . . . And he was spot on about my breasts. To say that I have two "fried eggs" on my chest would be an insult to fried eggs everywhere. I have nipples, and that is all. When I do have to wear one, I usually opt for a training bra or a tube top—anything to hide my nipples, which are quite long even when not taut. As for the reason I go braless, he was right again. I do enjoy an occasional lingering glance. I always have. And yes, I do choose tops which I know will plainly show my nipples poking out from my otherwise flat chest. "A woman can be very sexy without having a chest full of 38DDs. You are proof of that." His words echoed through my brain. I believed I could look semi sexy, under the right circumstances—to the right observer. I loved my slender legs and rounded butt. I kept my black hair cut short—very short. It barely covered my ears. I liked the tomboy look it gave me. Obviously, he liked it too and thought I looked sexy, "You are proof of that." He'd said. "Mr. Admirer: You are not wrong." Send "Dallas: Thank you for being honest. I know you imagine yourself being the female characters you write about. You imagine yourself doing what they are doing—feeling what they are feeling, but that isn't what excites you most to imagine. The thing you envy most about your characters is their boldness—their daring. Imagining yourself being just as bold and daring is what gets you the most excited—what causes you to slip your fingers under your panties and busy them. Tell me I'm wrong. Your Secret Admirer" Gawd! Whoever this guy is, he has me pegged. How could a stranger learn something so intimate about me simply by reading my stories? Okay, so he's seen me in public and knows I don't wear a bra—that I'm flat chested. Seeing me like that should have led him to just the opposite conclusion—that I am bold and daring. How could he know that I am anything but those things? "Mr. Admirer: You are not wrong. How do you know those things about me?" Send. "Dallas: It's less important how I know, only that I do, and most important that you know those things about yourself. Wouldn't your life be more fun and exciting if you somehow summoned the courage to find out? You could start slow—just dip your toe in the water. Your Secret Admirer" So he does want more than conversation. His last email confirmed it. If I were to try the things I write about, I couldn't do it alone—I'd need a partner—more than one in some cases. And I'm sure he'd be eager to volunteer. "I'm on to your game, Mr. Secret Admirer" I said aloud with a chuckle. "Mr. Admirer: I'm guessing you'd like to play the part of Allen Baxter—bend me over a stuffed chair and drive your ten inch cock to the hilt in my ass. Or, would you prefer to be my husband, David, who lost the wager at work and didn't have the money to pay. You want me to take turns giving all of your coworkers blowjobs at a party we host for just that reason? Or did you have one of the other scenes in mind?" Send. The asshole made me wait four days for his reply. That's how I knew I'd struck a nerve. He knew he was busted—that I knew he wanted more than conversation—a lot more. It pleased me to feel like I was more in control of this whole thing now. "Dallas: You flatter me with the whole 'ten inch' thing. The scene you mentioned, the one with Gina and Allen Baxter is one of the ways I knew you'd never experienced anal sex. I assume you've seen such a thing in a porn movie, but what they don't show the viewer in those movies is the amount of preparation even female porn stars need before they can take such a huge cock in their ass. There's a lot more to it than the movies show. You live less than ten miles from one of the nicest nude beaches in the US—the one you had Diana visit—but you described it all wrong. Obviously, you've never been there. Wednesday is your day off. It's supposed to be eighty-five and sunny. You should go there and experience it for yourself, and no, I won't be there, so you don't have to study every person who looks at you trying to decide which one is me. Email me afterward and let me know how it goes. I know to a certainty that you will love it. Your Secret Admirer" My heart was racing even before I pulled into the parking lot. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this, but I wanted to. I'd wanted to even before his email—while writing about Diana, the exhibitionist in one of my stories. But since reading his email Sunday night, I could think of little else. I just had to do it. I sat in my car for several minutes, watching the people come and go from the trail that led to the beach. It surprised me to see them strip naked beside their cars, and those returning from the beach were naked as well. I had assumed they would wear clothes to and from the beach, stripping only after choosing a place to lie in the sun. "Oh well, when in Rome" I said aloud to myself. Then I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and exited my car. I left the door open, pulled off my blouse, shorts and panties, tossing them into the driver's seat. Towel and car keys in hand, I headed for the path. I passed two couples on the path. The two men showed me appreciative smiles, and both women greeted me with "Hi" and "Enjoy". A slender single man passed and gave me a gentlemanly nod and smile. I kept my eyes on his, and if he glanced lower, I didn't catch him. The first ten minutes or so was awkward and nerve racking for me, but I was soon stretched out on my towel and coaching myself to breathe. There were people everywhere, all shapes and sizes. Many were just lying out and taking in the sun, but most were walking up and down the beach at the waters edge. I finally gathered my nerve and, leaving my towel and sandals behind, joined the parade along the wet sand. By the time I got back to my towel, I was feeling much more comfortable. I was able to relax and just enjoy the freedom of being naked without fear of being raped or arrested. And I'd received enough appreciative glances to have my pussy wet and tingling. An early thirtyish blonde woman with a wonderful body approached me, "Hi. I hope I'm not disturbing you." "Not at all." I replied. Her smile grew even wider, "Great. I'm Tina Wilson." She said, offering me her hand. "Dallas Marshall", I said as I shook her hand. "The reason I came over is . . . well, I just hate coming out here alone. My husband is with me today, but that's rare . . . our schedules and so on. So I thought perhaps you'd like a little company next time you come out here, if I'm free of course—which I usually am." "That would be nice. Actually, this is my first time. A friend suggested I try it, so here I am." "First time here, or anywhere?" "First time anywhere. I've never done the nude in public thing before." "Oh gawd! Don't you just love it? If I had my way, I stay nude twenty four seven, three sixty five. I hate wearing clothes." "Yes, it's quite liberating, but you're right. I think it would be more fun doing it with someone." Tina handed me a small slip of paper with her name and phone number on it. "Great." She said, "Give me a call anytime. Maybe we can come out together. Well, I'd better get back to Jay. It was wonderful meeting you, and I'm looking forward to getting to know you better." "Nice meeting you too, and I will definitely give you a call." * * * I thought about reporting my experience to Mr. Admirer that evening, but I thought better of it. I didn't want him to think I was too anxious to follow his orders. I waited two days before emailing him. "Mr. Admirer: You were right. I enjoyed the beach experience very much. I even met a nice woman who offered to accompany me there in the future. I think I would like that, so I'll probably call her before going out there again." Send. I heard the yodel only an hour later, so I went to my computer and opened his reply. "Dallas: I'm glad you enjoyed it. Of course, I knew you would. Now, about the woman you met, don't be shocked or offended if her motives prove to be more than simply not going to the beach alone. Not all of course, but there are more swingers in the nudist lifestyle than any other group I can think of. Here's a little homework assignment for you: Go through your four stories and list out every sexual situation you wrote about. Then, rate them from one to ten based on how hot you found them to be—not the quality of the writing, but the situation itself. The ones which caused you to masturbate multiple times should get the highest ratings. The ones which you masturbated to only while writing it, or once afterward, get a slightly lower rating, and so on. And no, I don't want to see your list. I simply want you to put it in writing and then evaluate what you can learn about yourself from it. Your Secret Admirer" I was almost angry with myself for doing my "homework" that night. Would I walk off a cliff just because he told me to? But, he'd been pretty much right on target with everything so far, so I swallowed my pride and did it. As I looked at the list of sexual situations and sex scenes after rating them though, I couldn't understand what I was supposed to be taking away from it. There were too many of them—almost a hundred. My favorite story was one in which twin sisters teased their older brother, eventually doing everything under the sun to him and each other. My favorite scene from that story was when the brother was fucking one of them in the ass while she was eating out her sister. I envisioned myself being the one in the middle, eating my younger sister, Becky, while her twin, Josh fucked me hard and fast in the ass. Ranking last was the scene from my "Fetish" story where two women took turns peeing in each others mouths. The scene where they knelt in front of a man and took his pee in their mouths ranked higher, but not that much higher. My favorite scene from that story was on a camping trip, and one of the women stood between two men and held their cocks while they peed. I'm not sure why, but I thought it was a very erotic visual. Ranking very high on the list was a scene from the "Non Consensual" genre. That scene depicted a twenty something shy girl getting drunk at a college party. She was tied up in the middle of the room, spread eagle standing up. She was totally naked, of course, and everyone at the party, males and females alike took liberties with her. I masturbated often while fantasizing that it was me in her situation. I thought I saw a pattern, but I wasn't sure. It appeared the scenes depicting things further from something I would have the guts to do got a higher rating. Finally, I made a drastic decision. For some very strange reason, I had come to trust Mr. Admirer's judgment on such things. "Mr. Admirer: I know you said you didn't want to see my list, but I can't seem to learn anything from it. I'm attaching it, so you can help me evaluate it." Send * * * The following Tuesday, I still hadn't heard back from M.A., so I placed a call to Tina. I got her voicemail. "Hi Tina. This is Dallas . . . from the nude beach. I'm thinking about going out there tomorrow. Are you available to go with me?" An hour later, she returned my call. "I'd love to, hon, but have you looked at the weather forecast?" I hadn't. "Ouch, no, I haven't. Is it supposed to rain?" "There's only a fifty percent chance, so maybe we'll get lucky. But if it rains us out, we can always have lunch or drinks or something. What time were you thinking?" "I'm off all day, so it's up to you." "Let's try for ten then. Hopefully it won't rain until later." "Great! I'll meet you in the parking lot at ten." * * * I pulled into the parking lot a few minutes early, but Tina was already there and waiting for me. It was cloudy, but not raining. When I parked and got out of my car, she came over and watched as I undressed, then moved in and gave me a tight hug, "I'm so happy you called." I'm sure my face turned red when I felt her firm breasts press against my already taut nipples. She noticed, "Girl, if you're going to be a nudist, you're going to have to get used to getting hugged by others—males and females. It comes with the territory." When we were lying side by side on our blankets, she let out a silly chuckle. We hadn't been talking, so I asked, "What?" "I was just thinking about our hug earlier. It made me remember the first time I saw Jay try to dance with a woman at our favorite nudist camp. We were very new to being nudists, and she had a whole chest full of HUGE tits. It was a slow song, and he hesitated putting his hands on her. She just let out a laugh, grabbed his hands and put them on her sides, then she pulled him in. I have to laugh every time I think about it."