2 comments/ 123511 views/ 9 favorites Playing with Matches By: Schenkkan Playing With Matches — Big Ones {I got this story from an email contact. She calls herself Gemineye, and knows all about my interest in stories where "good women" are swept up suddenly in desires that threaten to get out of control. There was a story Gemineye read recently about a guy and woman who got the guy's older brother to make her pregnant. She said she knew a story that was twice as crazy — it was about her, and her husband's twin brother.} * * * * * I never cared much for sex. Maybe for a couple of years after Danny and I got married. I wanted it maybe once every couple of weeks. Danny wanted it once a week, at least, and I gave in. Sex made me feel good, but I'm not sure I every really had an orgasm. Goes to show you how ignorant a couple of kids can be. All I had to go on was a couple of descriptions I read somewhere. A Cosmopolitan in the doctor's office, I think it was, or some magazine I wouldn't care to look at anywhere else. Long story short — the only reason I was halfway interested in sex, apart from the fact I liked making Danny feel good, was to get pregnant. From the day we got married, Danny and I wanted kids. We never used protection. Seven years later, we figured we better head to the doctor's office. The bad news was, Danny's sperm count was pretty low. The doctor offered a bunch of ways to take care of our problem, including going to a sperm bank, but that didn't appeal to us at all. I remember catching the doctor's eye near the end of that conversation, and I kind of thought he was going to make an indecent proposal on the spot. I'm not bragging or anything, but I'm in good shape. About 5 foot 7, 36B, a 25 inch waist, and I jog at least three miles every day. At the end of our last visit to him, Doctor Durkman said, "Well, if you keep trying, things could work out some day. You never know." He told me to stay healthy and cut down on my coffee. He told Danny to exercise, lose about 40 pounds, and eat lots of oysters. Danny ate oysters and mussels and you name it till the whales came home, but the only new addition to our lives was another 15 pounds around Danny's gut. Life, apart from this, was good. Danny had a good job in middle management at a credit card company. I was between assignments as a customer relations consultant for a national agency. Then one day we got a phone call. Danny's twin brother George had a couple of months' stress leave from the navy. He'd been stationed in Hawaii, Guam, the Indian Ocean, the Persian Gulf -- just about everywhere you could name. He wasn't much for keeping in touch with Danny or anyone else — a real no-nonsense, no flowers, no wasted words kind of guy. The biggest difference between George and Danny was in the body department. George stayed in shape. A second big difference -- George went on these party benders every once in a while. A nice hard-working straight arrow kind of guy for a couple of weeks, and then he'd booze it up for 72 hours solid on a weekend furlough, and then back to the daily grind. And, oh yeah, a third big difference was in the politeness department. George could be as rude and crude as a sailor could be. He'd use the four-letter words like they were the ordinary way to talk about things. There were times when Danny had to punch George in the arm and say stuff like, "Jesus Christ, George — there are ladies present!" George also wouldn't think twice about saying stuff like, "Woman, get me a beer" or "Me and the boys were just out looking for a little poontang." He always said it with a half-smile, and as if it was in quotation marks or something, so that he figured he wasn't really being an asshole. We asked George to stay with us, if he wanted to. Danny got along with him just fine. They were actually good friends, and rivals in everything. They just never got together more than once every 2 or 3 years. The first night George was with us, we had a great old dinner and drained about 5 bottles of Merlot. Near the end of the evening, we found out why George was on leave. There was an ugly incident in Guam. George took one of the base secretaries home from a bar. She said she was on the pill. They had sex twice, and four weeks later she claimed she was pregnant. George admitted to the sex, but disputed that he was the father. The woman took him to court, and sure enough, after the blood tests, he was the guilty party. There was about 5 weeks of legal wrangling, and at the end of it all George agreed to make a one-time payment of so many dollars. Danny told me another story about George later that night, when we were in bed. George was in trouble for something like this once before. In high school, he had sex once with the mayor's daughter, the head cheerleader. He even had a condom, but it slipped off or something. When Danny finished the story, I said, "Looks like he gets all the luck, huh?" Danny didn't understand me, so I said: "You two guys are twins, but you got the low sperm count, and he's already been a daddy twice — by accident!" Danny looked at me in a funny way. I mean, he agreed with me, but I could tell that the same idea that had crossed my mind was now crossing his. We talked about it off and on for about 5 days. I'd say, "It's too crazy. We simply couldn't ask George to help us out." And then Danny would say, "But it's the perfect way — our baby would probably look like me, and the DNA would be the same. No one would see or know." A day later, Danny would be saying, "Naw, it's too crazy," and this time it was me that would be using the DNA argument. And then on the fifth night, we agreed that Danny would at least mention our problem to George. The two of them went out drinking. Near the end of the night, Danny told George about how bad we wanted a baby. George listened to the long sad tale, and Danny suddenly got up the nerve to ask if George would mind helping us out. They laughed a lot, and drank some more, and at some point George finally got the idea that Danny was halfway serious about this. Danny had in mind that George would masturbate, and then Danny would somehow transfer the sperm to my ovulating womb. George just looked at his pudgy twin brother and said, "Danny, I'd really fucking love to help you out. If you and Maggie are really serious about this, I'll give you a hand. But not like that. I mean, fer fucksake, I'm not gonna jerk off in a cup or any of that kind of crap. Why don't you just give me a quick in-out with her? That way it'll all be natural and fast." The two of them drank on it, and swore themselves to secrecy, and then drank and shook on it some more. I didn't find out about the conversation till the next night, after George took off for a couple of days, saying he'd be visiting a friend out of town. I told Danny I'd think about it. I really didn't think it would ever come this far, and even when I imagined it happening, I figured it would be a medical thing in some way, not personal. The next day, I kind of got used to the idea, and that night Danny and I talked about how we might go about doing this crazy plan. I said, "Listen, Danny. You know I'm no great shakes in bed anyway. I just don't get off on it like I'm supposed to. I think it would be a pretty mechanical thing." Danny said, "It would still be adultery. It still sounds really dangerous." "Yeah," I said. "But not dangerous like you'd normally think it would be. I mean, I don't care much for it in the first place, and I really don't care much for George. Sorry, but you know that. When he gets as crude as he can get, it makes my skin crawl." "What if you do get pregnant, and the kid turns out like George?" "No chance. I think George has always got in with the wrong crowd, and that's what's happened to him. We'll just make sure we raise our little baby right." I thought for a second, and added, "If George makes it a 'quick in-out', as he says, and if I stay totally covered up in that old pair of PJ's that your grandma gave to your mom, I might be able to go through with it." "You mean the thick cotton ones? The ones that good little puritan girls were supposed to wear on their weddings?" "Yeah, just like that. It's got a flap near the bottom. Good little puritan girls and boys weren't supposed to feel each other's skin." The more we talked, the more we convinced ourselves. We really wanted a baby, and we loved the idea that it would be practically and almost naturally ours, instead of some genius or star athlete that we picked out of a stainless steel sperm bank. When Danny and I made our proposal to George, well, that was one of the strangest and most embarrassing and most exciting suppers I've had in a long time. Even George got into a kind of tongue-tied and "aw shucks" mood. We agreed we'd do the deed the following night, on a Friday. George asked just one more thing. He didn't want Danny to be in the house, and Danny said he had the perfect excuse to get out of town. The guys at his office were organizing a bus trip to the football game in Buffalo. He'd be taking off right after work on Friday, and wouldn't be back till Sunday night. * * * * * George and I had a pleasant supper together. Every once in a while he'd say, "I can't believe what's going to happen later tonight." We'd laugh a little, and then force ourselves to talk about something else. We agreed to watch TV until ten. Then I'd get ready, and George would come up to my room at 10:30. He had ten minutes to do what needed to be done, and then I wouldn't see him until breakfast the following morning. Later, on Saturday night, we planned to follow the same routine. Ten minutes, and that would be all she wrote. I put on those old, thick pajamas, feeling like a nineteenth century old maid. I lay on my back, waiting for George. I have to admit, I was feeling pretty tense. Would George go through with this? Would I? I really thought I might still shout NO. I heard George's footsteps climb the stairs. I heard the shower running in the hallway washroom, then a tap running, and a toothbrush rasping. George came in at 10:30, as planned, wearing only his boxers. I had left the bedside lamp on, and I could see his hard body in the soft glow. I saw exactly how much Danny had let himself go when I saw his twin's ripped chest. George walked gracefully to the foot of the bed and asked, "Are you still 100% sure you want to do this?" I thought for a few seconds, and felt a bit panicky. Then I remembered how totally boring sex usually was, and told myself, "This is going to be quick, surgical, ordinary. And I really want that baby!" I said to George, "Yes, I am. Please — do this fast, okay?" George moved to the side of the bed, and turned his back as he dropped his shorts. I saw his lightly downed backside, and felt like laughing. Something about a man's fleshy rear made me want to laugh. I wondered why guys took sex so seriously. When George turned around, I was kind of shocked. He didn't have a hard on, but he seemed enormous. Danny was, oh, I don't know, about half an inch long before sex, and 4 skinny inches when he was erect. George looked to be about 6 inches, and thick as my wrist. He touched my thighs near the flap, and then undid the snaps. I had a small shiver: I realized my pubic mound was now exposed to George's eyes, and I felt shame. I wanted to turn the light off, but George interrupted my motion by saying, "I don't think I can do this." Now I felt panicky again, but this time for a different reason. Here I was, a sacrifice, a person who had talked about doing this for almost a week, and who made all these plans, and now it was just going to go bust. So I asked George what the problem was, and he just said, "Oh, I'm not really sure. It's too mechanical. I can't get hard, for fucksake." We just stayed silent for about a minute, and George finally said, "Look. I think all I need is some contact here. Just get a hold of my cock with your hand, and I'll probably be able to do what, you know, what we agreed." I thought, "this wasn't part of the deal," but I was also just a small bit curious — and I wanted to get it over with. I reached forward, and touched the tip of George's penis. Then I got a grip on his shaft, and squeezed it a couple of times. I could feel him getting harder each time, so I began to stroke up and down. I thought about pumping up an air mattress, and I felt like giggling. Sex really was a ridiculous thing. Then I realized I had an eight or nine-inch monster in my hand with a head the size of a fat purple plum. And then I realized George was returning the favor; he had opened the flap on my PJ's, and was lightly stroking my pubic bush. He was kind of combing it with his fingertips, and giving me a light scratch. A little while later, he slid his fingers across the lips at the opening, and then every once in a while he did something to make my crotch jerk. I closed my eyes; I realized he was giving my clitoris a light, quick squeeze or a little love tap now and again. I heard George say, "Just a little longer. You're almost ready." I guess he was feeling to see if I was moist enough for him, and I was glad for that. His penis could do some damage if he wasn't careful. Then George moved to get on top of me. He grabbed my wrist to keep my hand on his penis, and guided it to my opening. He said, "I want you to make the first move here. I want to know for absolutely sure you want me to do this." I put his plum-head at the opening, and raised my hips an inch or two, feeling him slide an inch or two into my private garden. George pushed in another long inch. It hurt. He was stretching me way too wide. He wasn't just entering me — I felt I was being crammed, or stuffed. Then I felt nerve endings being tingled I didn't know were there. George was touching all kinds of new places. I was afraid — I thought he might be ripping me, and it didn't seem right that big pain was somehow starting to mix with pleasure. He pushed in another inch, and gave my clitoris a little smack with his lean pubic bone, the same place where Danny was surrounded by his soft lardbelly. This time my whole pelvis twitched, and George said, "Yeah — that feels good." I wanted to say I didn't mean to do anything, and then I wanted to tell George to hurry it up, but I knew I somehow had to make more room for him. I spread my legs wide, and I shoved my hands down to my crotch to pull out a fold in my PJs that was pinching me. I suddenly became conscious of how naked George was. I couldn't help myself; I put my hands on his waist as I felt his slow, short, massive pushes past the raw nerves of my vagina. Again, I felt I was being crammed, or packed to the hilt for a long trip. Then I felt that engorged purple head reach and practically kiss my cervix, and George began a rhythmic up and down that was like a hypnotist's watch. I felt like a drop in an ocean wave, rising and falling, rising and falling beyond my control. George moved one hand under my waist, and one under my shoulder blades, and I wondered when his job would be finished. Several minutes must have passed, way past the time Danny would have needed. Just then, George started to buck faster, and to slam his pubic bone into mine, directly onto my clitoris. Danny never pounded me like that, and I realized with a kind of shocked horror that my clitoris was liking what was happening. I could barely understand it. It was so intimate, but it was a violation. It was like waking up from a long deep sleep, but then finding out you were about to crash and burn. It felt like I was being totally filled. Like I was being conquered. My vagina walls were starting to spasm. My hips were thrusting up to meet the man-meat that was thundering in. It was out of my control — that was the most amazing thing. And then I went over the top. I started bucking and thrashing as if I was having a fit, and I felt the waves of the ocean crashing all around me, and it was the most intense pleasure I had ever felt in my life. As soon as that first tidal wave crashed over me, I could feel another one building up. I could feel George's penis expand inside of me, and then I felt his hot seed pumping hard and powerful and fertile into me. That was the blast of rain that started my second crashing tidal wave. I started rolling and spasming and digging my fingernails into my brother's back as if he were no more than an animal. It was like he had come here to slaughter and devour me, but I was devouring him instead. When George began to slip out of me, I got another surprise. I felt regret. I couldn't remember the last time I was sad to finish with sex, but now I was hoping George would hold me for a little while before he took off. I gave him the signal by holding on to his waist. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to betray how good I felt. George must have been a bit worried about what happened, too, because all he said was, "That was… so good", and then he didn't say anything except to hold me by my waist. I rolled onto my side after a while, feeling ready to sleep, and George spooned in behind me. I felt even fuller than before. I felt as if I had conquered him. * * * I woke up, and saw the clock on the night table. It was about 11:30, and I realized George was still in the bed with me, behind me, stroking my hip across the thick cotton cloth. I still had the afterglow, but then I got serious. I was trying to figure out a way to order George out of the room, but nicely, when he got a bit more daring. He ran his hands across the back of my thighs, pushing lightly at the space between them all the way up to my butt cheeks and back down again. I was confused: I wanted him to stop, but I was still feeling a sleepy kind of goodness, so I didn't say anything right away. Finally, it came out of me: "I think you'd better go now." George wouldn't move, so I said, "George? Did you hear me?" He just said, "If you want to get pregnant, you should get as much of me into you as you can." I was stunned. "Are you … you're really able…?" "Am I really able to get it up again? I should hope so." "I don't know about this. I'd rather wait till tomorrow night." "I'll give you a two for one deal tomorrow night too. This time, though, I want to do it in a way that'll make it even more likely for you to get pregnant." "What do you mean?" "Trust me on this," George said. "If a guy comes into a woman from behind, I've read it's more likely she'll get pregnant." I thought about how hard it would be for him to do it that way, especially with my puritan PJs getting in the way. Then George added, "Besides, it's not as personal in a lot of ways. The guy isn't face to face with the woman and all that." The logic there wasn't all that convincing. The first time around, I didn't see much of George's face. It was either turned away from me or mashed into the pillow. Then I thought, why not? It would be less personal for me for a second reason — because I had so much pleasure the first time, and that was way too personal. At the same time, I still kind of wanted to thank George. I knew very clearly, now, that I'd experienced orgasm, and that's a Cloud Nine kind of thing. It's a spell that can knock the usual moral picture out of whack. I said I wanted to think about it for a couple of minutes. I already knew what I was probably going to say, but I felt the need to wait. And I kind of liked the fact that he was still interested, and still stroking my thigh lightly against the thick cotton. Then I said, "OK. One more. But please, as quick as you can. OK?" George just said, "Yeah, all right kiddo. This is the one that'll make the baby." He spooned in behind me, and I could feel his monstrous penis jutting against the PJ bottoms. George nuzzled the back of my neck, and that felt very nice. The nuzzles turned into soft kisses, and I let him. I felt one hand ride under my bottom hip, and the other ride on the top side, but it was obviously not easy passage through the flap. He hooked his thumbs into the PJ bottoms, and his fingers on my skin felt electric. He said, "I need to drop these over your butt. Otherwise this isn't going to work." I wanted to say NO, but nothing came out. George worked his hands down onto my haunches, under the PJs, and the violation felt wild, wicked… too good. He pushed his hands out against the fabric, and got my PJs down past my hips. Still stroking my thighs, he began butting his new erection against my raw, well-used labia, and began to slide in. Again, the pressure was almost painful, the pressure of stretching me out again to take him in. The nerves he was touching were frayed knots of pain and pleasure. The fat snakehead began moving in and out again, this time pushing at the soft wall just above my pubic bone. This was something new — he must have been touching there an hour ago, but now it felt as if he'd found a totally new country. Playing With Matches — Big Ones It was so strange. He was filling me with an ache, with a sense of a great emptiness that could only be solved with the flood of his orgasm. I thought, no, that's not quite it. Something's missing from that idea. And I realized that it had to be MY orgasm too. It was weird to use this word, to think it. It was like a demon possessing me, but like an angel at the same time, offering a gift. Offering praise, offering language. George began to ride me, ride me hard, like he was trying to thrust me over to the other side of the bed. I began to push back at him, to hold my place. I reached round to hold the small of his back -- then, feeling awfully naughty, I slid my hands down to the top of his round little butt, and helped him push his magnificent serpent into me. George then reached round to my front, and stroked me, softly at first, and then rougher, but always just what my inflamed clit wanted. George's other hand was on my waist, and then he pushed up under the cotton top, and that's what sent me over the edge. Danny always started with my breasts, as predictable as always, and moved downward. When George finally got to my nipples, they felt like oversized clitorises. They were so hard they were sore, and they were throbbing. He rolled them around under fingertips, and then gave them light squeezes, and my orgasm started to roll over me like one mile-high wave after another. That's when George lost control, and he sent another five or six shots of hot spunk into my quavering womb. This time, George kissed the back of my neck, then leaned down to give the top of my thigh a light little lick and a kiss, gave my bottom a light happy smack, and rolled my PJ bottoms back up to my waist. He padded like a sleek jungle cat out of the room, and I fell into a dark, dream-troubled, pleasure-filled sleep. * * * George was gone the following morning, and I got a call at around noon from Danny. We chatted about nothing for a couple of minutes, and then he asked, "So, uh, how'd it go?" I paused long enough for Danny to say, "Maggie? You still there?" I just said, "Oh, sheesh, yeah. Uh, it didn't go as badly as I thought. You know how I was worried that it was going to be, like, yuck. Well, George was very quiet and gentlemanly about it all." It was Danny's turn to pause. Then he said, "Honey, I love you. You know that, right?" "I love you too, big guy." "This'll make us stronger, all right? Let's just keep thinking about that beautiful baby…" "Oh, Danny. You're too sweet." Danny had to run; the guys were starting a barhop, and Danny was holding up the works. George came back about half an hour later with some groceries. He shouted, "Hey, Maggie. You doing all right?" I said yeah, I was doing just fine, and then George started whipping up an amazing vegetable omelet. We gorged on it, and were working on our second lattes, when George said, "OK, kiddo. Let's head upstairs." I could hardly believe my ears. I kind of knew we'd be doing it once or twice more later that night, but not damn well now. I said, "I don't think so." I thought he would just laugh it off and go watch TV or something, but George looked a bit hurt. He didn't say anything at all, until I asked, "Are you sure you can do this?" George looked even more wounded, and then he laughed: "You could find out soon enough. We've only got another day and a half, and I want to make sure this works out. We're all taking some pretty big risks here." "I don't know. I think we should wait till tonight, as we agreed." George just said, with a big smile, "Get your ass over here." He wanted to look like he was being lighthearted, but I could tell that he was deadly serious. He didn't wait for me to move. He walked over, picked me up, and carried me down the hallway to the guest bedroom. "George," I said, "stop it. What are you doing?" He didn't say anything, but laid me down on the bed, and lay on top of me, pinning me down, but gently. He said, "Sorry. The minute I saw you in that housecoat, and maybe nothing underneath, I had to have you." I could feel his python growing to full length again, and I remembered the feelings I had last night. In that moment of hesitation, George's weight split my thighs, and I could feel that apple on a rope rubbing sweetly against my pleasure. My lips were jammed against George's neck, and, involuntarily, I kissed it. George kissed my cheek, my neck, and then his lips found their way to mine. Softly at first, just brushing our lips together, and then harder, and then feeling George's tongue push past mine like a little cock into my private space, but then I was doing the same thing back, sending my hot tongue past his lips. We kissed for at least an hour; it was like sex, but no orgasm. Just the sense of being together, of becoming one body, and then George started to make the moves to get the other barriers out of the way. He sat me up, and dropped the housecoat over my shoulders and into a puddle at the edge of the bed. He reached behind me, and unsnapped my bra. I undid the buttons of his shirt, and then we touched nipple to nipple. His were almost as big as mine, and they stroked me like little cocks on big clits. Then George kissed his way down the valley between my breasts to my belly, and kissed around the rim of my panties. He slid them off, slowly, and followed by little trailing kisses. Then he came back up the valley of my thighs, kissing me lightly, and then I realized that he was actually going to kiss my vagina. Danny had never done that. I said "No" — I didn't think it was right. I didn't know what to expect, but then he started running a long wet tongue from the base of my pussy lips to just below my clitoris. He gave little sucks to soft sensitive folds up and down my vagina, and it was obvious that he was really enjoying himself. For some reason that was turning me on as much as anything else — the fact that he was so into what he was doing. And then I was surprised by joy — a sudden hard row of spasms as his tongue moved from inside me to my clit and back again. The wish to give something in return was strong in me, and I knew George would want me to put his penis in my mouth, but I wasn't ready for that yet. And just as strong in me was the wish to stop this. It was going too far. I said, "George. No more. We have to wait till tonight." George just took my lips with his, and I could taste myself on him, and it filled me with a strange, terrible heat. Now all I could think of was being filled with George's sperm. As if on cue, George directed his massive cock to my opening, and began pushing in, a couple of inches at a time. He started a hard rhythm that turned my soreness into pleasure, and against all conscious control I start to thrust back up at him. Suddenly, another orgasm overwhelmed me, and I felt embarrassed at how out of control I felt. George just said, "Oh yea, baby. That felt real good for me too." George began to buck faster, deeper, harder -- and just as I felt his jism splash hotly against the aching bastions of my sex, I felt yet another giant orgasm wrack my body. I felt as if my contractions were drawing that life-giving seed toward the secret source of life. Almost as if they were dessert, not the appetizer, George softly touched and licked my breasts now, telling me how fine and perfect and beautiful they were. After a while, I rested my hand softly on his chest, and shut my eyes, pretending to sleep. George got up, got dressed, and after a while I could hear his car starting up. I really did fall asleep. When I got up at 7 p.m., I had to pee awfully badly and I was hungry as hell. After the washroom, I made a couple of cheese crackers, thought about what I might make for supper, and then took a long hot shower. I decided not to dress -- just my regular flannel pajamas and a housecoat. I was going to watch TV and snack on leftovers or something. I felt good, too good. Everything in the bedroom had a kind of a happy, lazy fog around it. Every once in a while though, I felt a sharp stab of guilt. I'd promised Danny that George and I would only be doing it twice, and now we'd already done it one way or another four times. As I started downstairs, I could smell food. George had done some more shopping, and had started the late supper. I said, "So, what's cooking?" He looked at me and said, "You are, baby. You are sizzling in the fry pan and you are bubbling in that lobster pot, and I'm going to eat you all night long." I laughed, and then he showed me what he was really making. Lobster, new potatoes, a vegetable stir-fry and a garden salad. I opened a bottle of wine, and was bringing him a glass, when he said, "Wait right there." He went out to the foyer, and came back with a bouquet of roses. Rich red velvety roses -- a couple of dozen! I went kind of slack-jawed. I wanted to say thanks, and open up to him with a huge hug, but this was a really big violation of the agreement. George took the initiative. He reached inside the folds of my housecoat to give me a hug. His hands reached the skin between the PJ bottoms and top, and he lifted them up to my ribs. He pulled me to himself for about 5 hard seconds, and he said, "I just wanted to say thanks, kiddo. You've made me feel very human for a whole day now. I feel really good, too, but the big thing is that you've made me feel human." Well, about all I could think to do was to give him a kiss on the cheek, and that turned into a smoldering lip-wrestle, and thank God George broke it off by saying it was time to eat. Near the end of a simple but wonderful meal, I said something about all the butter we'd eaten. George looked me in the eye with the look that meant sex. He said, "The perfect thing about a supper like this is that it makes you horny, which means you have to work off the calories." I thought to myself, "Actually, it would just make Danny want to sleep and gain another couple of pounds." And then I said, "I want to see you naked. In the candlelight." George smiled a wicked smile and undid the buttons of his white shirt. His bronzed, sculpted, lightly haired chest was now exposed, and he moved just a step away from my chair. He undid the button of the jeans, pulled down his fly, and began shucking his jeans and boxers at the same time. He took a step closer, until his semi-erect cock was just a few inches from my face. I wanted to, but I didn't. I felt as if I was pulling petals off a daisy. George said, "All I want you to do is kiss him. You don't have to deepthroat me or any of that stuff. Just hold him, yeah, like that, and give him a few nice little kisses." He was uncircumcised, and that was interesting. The skin kind of cowled over his plumhead, which was now twice as big & purple under my lips. I felt a real power because of this, this thing that grew from 4 or 5 inches to 8 or 9 just because I had it in my hands. I give the tip of his cock a little lick, and then a few more. George said, "Yeah, that's really nice. That's perfect. If you want to, just suck me a little way past your lips. Just a light little suck, like you're taking the tip off an ice cream cone. Ooh, that's real nice." Then a couple of drops of clear liquid came out, and I stopped. I gave one more little lick, for curiosity, and it wasn't so bad. Just like a drop of melted butter, but with a bit of a tang in it. I thought, "Maybe some day I'll do more," but I wasn't ready yet. George said, "Just one more thing, now. I want you to tell me something." "What's that?" I asked. My voice came out low and husky. I realized I was shaking. "I want you… to tell me that you want me." I stood up to hold George, as if that would tell him what he wanted to hear. But he said, "Tell me out loud. Please, I need it." I dropped my housecoat to the floor. I opened the buttons on my flannel top, and I dropped my PJ bottoms to a rest just above my vagina. I looked George in the eye, and I said, "I want you." Then something took control of my voice, and I said, "I want you inside me. Take me. Now." George moved in on me, his arms opening my top and freeing my nipples to the tickling, caressing of his chest. His penis was butting against my navel, and that filled me with pleasure, with a sense of power. He said, "You want me to make love to you, you want me to pleasure you hard and long?" His hand was now on my vagina, and rocking my hips with little ripples of pleasure. I wanted to hear more of his voice. It was like the sex talk was another pair of hands, another cock. I whispered, "Yesss. I want you to pleasure me hard and long." George said, "You want me to fill you with my cock. You want me to pleasure your little lady. You want me to fill your sweet cunt with my hard cock?" My PJ bottoms were now on the floor, and George had lifted me up, my legs around his thighs, my vagina opening aching for that cock to move past my labia. That's when I said it. I said, "I want you to… I want you to fuck me." As soon as I said that, George thrust up into me and said, "Oh, baby, you're so hot. Tell me again, again!" As my first juddering orgasm began to gather in my thighs, I said, "Fuck me, George. Fuck me hard and fuck me long." Then it all came crashing home. I could feel George's spunk blasting uncontrolled out of his amazing cock, and I spasmed for what must have been about a solid two minutes on this big old homo erectus. And that's all she wrote, as the saying goes. George and I did not stop making that baby for the next 22 hours, except for two or three naps, until just before Danny got home. George actually packed up his stuff to move out of the house for a few days, because he wanted to give Danny and me a chance to get things settled again. I wasn't sure what I wanted or needed now. I still loved Danny, but George gave me sexual heaven for a couple of days. When Danny came home, I half told him the truth. I couldn't stop crying: I said everything was OK, but that George and I had done it a couple of times outside of the agreed on times. Danny said, "That's OK, honey. I'm kind of glad you did. I was kind of worried that two times wouldn't be good enough." I said, "OK, but you don't understand. I broke my promise, because I started to like George having inside me. It felt too good. It's probably mainly because it was, like, forbidden and all that. Or because it was totally new. I really don't know." And I started crying again. When Danny held me, I could see that he had a hard-on. I truly did not need any more sex at that point, but I stripped Danny like I was in heat and made him ride me hard. He came in about a minute, and about half an hour later, I stroked him hard again, and made him come in me again. As we fell asleep, I hoped that my baby would still, somehow, be Danny's. I'm not sure how everything is going to turn out. I have serious doubts that anything will be the same. Danny and I had decided to play with matches, but the matches turned out to be a lot bigger and hotter and dangerous than we imagined. Playing with Matches "Rick's boss owns two workout clubs," Tod said, "one of which Rick manages." "I bet," Cole said, not quite believing it. If so, Cole's thoughts went on, that man must really trust Rick to lend him his yacht. "Is Jennifer your girlfriend, too?" "In a manner of speaking," Tod said. Was Jennifer hiding inside the boat? Cole wondered. If so, how could she? After all, Jennifer was not the kind of chick to "betray one of her sisters." If Jennifer wasn't aboard, however, what was Tod doing there? Did he plan to cheat on his girlfriend? If so, with whom? Someone clapped once. Cole quailed. Rick walked a slow half-circle toward the front of the white chaise longues. "Are you tigers ready to rock 'n roll?" Cole caught his breath. "What are we gonna do?" Rick stopped in front of the white deck chairs. "In a nutshell? Tod is going to suck our dicks. Then, we're going to fuck his ass." Cole's jaw dropped as if to small weights. "It's alright," Rick said. "You can watch if you feel guilty about participating—although I assure you, once you see Tod's butt, you're going to want to go all the way." "You brought no babes?" Cole said in disbelief. "I would have," Rick said. "But you stressed that you wouldn't have sex with a woman, other than your wife. I thought you were serious." Cole rose to his black flip-flops; he shook his head; and he ankled past Rick. Cole turned back to the front of the vessel. "You gotta be kiddin'." "About fucking Tod?" Rick said. "I mean every word. You want me to prove it to you?" Cole's wad stiffened, and this scared the jeebees out of him. For the first time in his life, Cole dared not speak. "Three months," Rick said. "Are you prepared to go another three months without sex?" How Cole wanted to say no. "If you prefer, you can jerk off to our action," Rick said. "That's not cheating, is it?" "I … I guess …" If only Cole could get his legs to stop shaking. "I guess not." "Then, we're set," Rick said. He turned his slender physique toward Tod's lithe one. Tod rose from his white deck chair and pulled off his jade polo shirt. Tod! Rick undid the white buttons of his executive shirt of wine. He inched toward Tod and became an inch taller than 5' 10" Tod. Against Tod's bared pecs, Rick pressed his outlined pecs. Cole felt as if he were watching a college graduate sit on the butt of a high school sophomore. Tod and Rick puckered their lips. Their lips touched like clinking goblets, and the guys sipped from each fold as if sweet sap were to be extracted. In the process, Tod and Rick sounded like they were sucking from the same lollipop. Spellbound, Cole's eyes froze on boyish-faced Tod and on preppy-faced Rick. Rick unpasted his strong lips from Tod's soft ones. This made the sound of a cork popping off a bottle from under a pillow. Rick slipped down and sucked one of Tod's erect teats. Tod leaned his soft neck back. Cole could not believe his eyes! Here were two fellows, giving and sucking breast the way a woman and a man made love. Over Tod's fledgling pec, Rick's head gyrated like a spinning top. Tod's fingers winded over the dark crown of Rick's noggin. Cole's pubes began to pull painfully. He, however, refused to unzip his mahogany knee pants of corduroy. Instead, Cole hollered. "Guys!" Rick unglued his lips from Tod's engorged nipple. A little out of balance, Rick rose back up. Tod's hand fell off Rick's short, front-combed hair of coffee bean brown. Rick turned his groovy body right. "You're not getting cold, are you?" How could Cole possibly answer? If he admitted his excitement, then Tod and Rick would see Cole as queer-in-the-making and do who knew what to him. Cole might even have to jump overboard. Conversely, if Cole took the high ground, then Tod and Rick would resume their insanity—just to break Cole's resistance. "It's June," Cole said. "Of course, I'm not cold." "You're right," Rick pattered. "Let's get some drinks." Cole didn't even shift his weight. Tod, however, marched to a redwood door—one with a circle window at the top-center, a scarlet curtain of taffeta behind the glass, and a yellow-white light behind the curtain. Tod pulled the door open, traipsed into the yacht, and left the reddish door ajar. Seldom had Cole felt so disappointed—especially, by a dude who had not only respected Cole's heterosexuality but also given every indication of being straight himself. Why, Cole wondered, had Tod let him down? With his sharp nose, Rick pointed toward the reddish door. Cole's groin felt like a volcano about to erupt. Playing with Matches Still, Cole couldn't stop eyeing the V of light-cream skin under Tod's peach-hued skin. What beach in the world would permit Tod to wear panties under the sun? Pensive with this mystery, Cole ogled the muscle balls of Tod's buns and the moistness of Tod's skin. Cole allowed his eyes to slink up, and he began to relish the curves of brawn on Tod's back. Clearly, Cole was gayer than he thought. Why else would he be admiring the physique of a guy? The question alone brought Cole to the verge of panic. Again, Rick knelt behind Tod. Heck, Rick didn't even remove his black pants and white briefs the rest of the way. Something about the animality of this brought a familiar sensation to Cole's balls. Rick fed his cock into Tod's butt crack. Rick pushed, slow as a dentist's hand inserting a mouth guard full of toothpaste into a patient's mouth. Tod rolled his drunken eyes. Then, he lowered his squarish chin toward the front cushion of the beige davenport. Rick's dick finished disappearing into the zipper of Tod's behind. Watching this reminded Cole of a boyhood friend spreading tales of toothed vaginas to try to keep rival lads away from girls. With Tod's ass being a truly taboo place, Cole could only wonder if Tod had anything dangerous in there—other than what was to be normally expected. Rick's rumps looked like yellow-white milk turned into sculpted cheese. Rick began to pump into Tod, and the muscle threads of Rick's duff flexed. Cole's birdie started to throb. Rick plowed Tod's chute harder. Tod began to scrub himself underneath. Rick heaved. "You like cock up your pooper?" Tod turned his peach-hued face back and nodded in bobs of frenzy. "You better because you have one hot set of hind boobs." Rick slapped Tod's right knocker! Tod moaned. "That's what you get for fucking my wife." "She has one hot cunt," Tod said. "She does?" Rick rumbled. "Yeah," Tod said freshly. "Is this how you fuck her on Friday nights?" "Harder," Tod growled. "How about now?" "Harder!" Tod howled. Rick pistoned harder than a pestle pounding a mortar. Tod jolted as if to a bumping bus. "Take my fucking cock!" Rick brayed. Back forward, Tod turned his somewhat diamond face. Through Tod's dishwater-blond hair, Rick zagged his fingers of light cream. "The luckiest kid in North Carolina—" "Off North Carolina," Tod corrected. Rick stopped shagging Tod's bottom. "What a brat!" Rick resumed bucking his lean hips. He slithered his left hand up the oilskin of Tod's back and said, "See if you can take this." On this, Rick pulled Tod's blondish hair where it parted fuzzily on the right side of the front. Tod moaned. Rick kept Tod's dirty-blond hair bunched in his grip. "Ah! Ah!" Tod ballyhooed. "Na, na, na," Rick warned. "No complaining if you know what's good for you." Tod whimpered. Rick pulled Tod's hair more brusquely. Thanks to Rick's grip, Tod's soft face now faced the white ceiling. Tod whined, "Why don't you go pull Jennifer's hair?" "So you want to be treated like a doll, huh?" Rick said. "Fuck you!" Tod spat. "What did you say?" "I said, 'Fuck you.'" "You little rug rat," Rick answered. As if holding the reins of a horse, he kept his fingers clawed on the ash-blond wisps atop Tod. Rick bucked his pale hips so fast onto the ( of Tod's rumps that, for a moment, it seemed like Rick would vaporize. Tod wailed. "You still want to fuck me?" Rick said. "I'd rather have your cock catch my germs," Tod said boldly. "That way, you can catch an infection, and I can get Jennifer pregnant." "You incorrigible genius," Rick said, his bully tone fluctuating wildly. Rick loosened his grip on Tod's hair and slithered his left hand down the pinkish muscles of Tod's back. With his right hand, Rick buffeted Tod's heinie. "Ugh!" Tom crackled … and jerked forward as if taking a dump. Cole began to stroke his huge dick downward. "The luckiest kid in the South," Rick said, "with a sugar daddy to lend him his wife and home. And Toddy boy gets smart with me?" Tod glinted back. "I'm not getting smart." "No?" Rick cuffed Tod's butt. Rump-to-head, Tod's body wavered like an ocean wave. Again, his delectable nose faced forward. Slap! "Stop!" Tod blubbered. Slap! Slap! Slap! Even Tod's hair jittered—and the dirty-blond strands were cropped like wheat stalks sickled to the ground. Cole let his grip slip off his hot dog. The scene before him was so expertly crafted that Cole began to wonder if Tod and Rick had planned this beforehand. Tod's voice cracked. "I need punishment." "I bet you do," Rick grizzled behind one of Tod's attached earlobes. "After all, you wouldn't be sneaking to my wife's bedroom if you had discipline." Whack on Tod's right butt! "Yeah," Tod said. "Set me straight." "And the fox telling me what to do, too," Rick said. Whack on Tod's left butt! "Ouch!" "You better not whine," Rick said. "Or else, I'll give you this." "Aahhh!" Cole almost came. Was gay sex this kinky? Rick's brogue came out stronger than usual. "You have one serious behavior problem." Again, Tod twisted his suave neck back. "No, I don't." "A smart alec, too," Rick said. He spanked Tod so hard that the thrash sounded like a whip. Tod's head shook left, and he grabbed one of the beige throw pillows. Rick seized the buckskin thing. "No, you don't." He threw the pillow right. "You're not biting any part of this sofa. Want to get me into trouble with my boss?" "Woof, yes!" Tod said. "Then, I can see you get a good nailing from him." "You impudent piece of—" Smack! Smack! Smack! Cole could barely hold it any longer. The buckskin cushions of the davenport squashed fast. Rick's balls, in turn, slapped Tod good and hard—and sounded like horseshoes trotting down a leaf-covered walkway in the distance. Thicker blobs of glue seeped up Cole's urethra. "Uh!" Cole whiffed hornily. Rick oinked the cry of a hog. Tod panted like a Daschund. "Fucking queer wanker," Rick said. "I can't believe I'm about to—" He threw his hooded eyes back, squinched them into the eyes of a hawk, and snarled like a wolf in a forest. Rick's shapely nates scrunched like soccer balls collapsing to an onslaught of fists. Cole squeezed his bird eggs, desperate to relieve the tension there. At last, Rick fell on the yellow rug.