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Safe

By: M J Lindsay



Warning: I write love stories with graphic sex. The lovers may be of the same gender. So if love offends you, you'd best move on. MJL

My first memory is of my father yelling, "Get out of my way you worthless piece of shit!" and backhanding me so hard I bounced off of the refrigerator door. I was three years old at the time. That's actually better than my second memory which is when my mother heard this and came running to deflect his attention away from me and ended up with a split lip and multiple bruises for her trouble. Unfortunately this was the first of many such events. The story of my early life is pretty depressing, but I hope you'll stick around for the happy ending. I can't tell you how glad I am that I did!

Dad had seduced Mom when she was barely fifteen and been pressured by his parents into marrying her when she got pregnant with me. He was twenty-four years old and there was a good chance he might have done time on a jail bait rap if he hadn't. Apparently it was OK to exploit a young girl in those days if you "made an honest woman of her." When her new husband turned out to be a mean drunk, Mom had few resources to get away. Her education had stopped her sophomore year in high school and her parents turned their backs on her because of her pregnancy. She was resigned to her fate until Dad started slapping me around. Then she vowed to do whatever it took to get us out.

Mom worked all day and secretly went to school at night to better herself. A nice old lady in our apartment building felt so sorry for us that she looked after me for free. Dad was too drunk to notice how much Mom was gone and too busy with all the young girls he was still chasing. By the time I was six she had earned a college degree and gotten a job in a town at the other end of our state. We left without a backward glance. We heard several years later that Dad had died in a drunken fall down a staircase. Neither of us wasted any tears over him.

In our new town Mom tried hard to make up to me for the past. Her job, when she first started, gave us a decent place to live and plenty of food on the table, but not a whole lot extra. One luxury she insisted on paying for, though, was music lessons for me. I fell in love with the first guitar I ever saw. She found me a wonderful teacher who could introduce me to the basics of several styles of music. Like any kid I saw myself playing rock and roll, but to my surprise I was drawn to classical guitar music. Miss Dobbs, my teacher, made sure I was well grounded in all sorts of styles, but she started teaching me the great classical pieces when I was still very young. Women are usually underrepresented in the pantheon of great guitar players, but Miss Dobbs was damn good, especially as a blues player. Right from the beginning music was the central joy of my life.

Mom was worried about me not having any male role models so she also enrolled me in several activities at the local community center which were led by male volunteers. One guy in particular, whom I'll call Mr. X because he doesn't deserve the dignity of a real name, taught judo and woodworking classes and made a point of being nice to me. From the start, when I was only eight years old, he singled me out from the other kids and invited me to do special things with him, like go out for ice cream after class. In this day and age most parents would be suspicious of his interest, but Mom had no inkling he was being anything but kind to a fatherless young boy. After all, he was a well thought of married man who claimed that he taught kids because he'd always wanted to be a father, but his wife couldn't get pregnant. In Mom's mind it was a perfect situation: a child needing fathering and a man anxious to give it.

Mr. X gained my confidence and then betrayed me in the worst possible way. Of course he told me it was all about love. I started to mature early and by the age of eleven I looked much older. I began lifting weights at the center and was developing a young man's body. Mr. X started to lose interest in me and I didn't know how to take it. I was totally confused by that time about what love and sex were all about. Being a smart kid, I started reading about it and came across the word "pedophile." Suddenly it became clear that Mr. X's interest had waned because I was no longer a child. What he did to me had nothing to do with love, but was about some twisted sexual appetite. 

A year or two later he got caught with some poor kid's pants down and was arrested. I remember being shocked because I still sort of believed I was the only one. I've always told myself that if I'd thought he would do it to another kid I would have turned him in. When he was arrested my mother was horrified and came to me asking if he'd ever tried anything like that with me. I knew she'd be eaten up with guilt if I told the truth so I said "no." Maybe if I'd been honest I could have gotten help and the next few years would have been different. 

I think that's when what I came to think of as "the wall" grew around my feelings. I just shut down. I felt nothing for anyone, except my mother. I knew her love was real, however misguided, since she obviously didn't realize how defective I was. The rest of the world, however, was never going to get to me again. I put a mental shield around everything that was tender in me to protect myself.

Just to make this part of my life more confusing and painful, my own sexual thoughts and feelings began to develop. I started getting hard-ons when I looked at pictures of people who were attractive to me and since sex was old news to me, I had no hesitation about relieving the tension myself. I was scared spit less about the whole thing, though, because the people I was attracted to were men. 

Now, I know there are endless theories about how this happens. Was I gay from birth or because my father rejected me or because I had been molested by a man? Who the hell knows? From what I read, science has yet to determine what causes any of us to form the sexual orientation we do, hetero or homo. To me, it didn't much matter where it came from, anyway. It was how I was.

I knew what society thought about gays so I kept quiet and didn't act on my feelings for several years. In the last year of high school a male classmate came on to me because, he said, I was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen and I never had a girl around, so he was hoping I was gay. It's true there was never a girl in my life. I love women, but I've never had a desire to sleep with one. Like it or not, my future was clearly with my own sex. I got it on with the guy and it was pretty satisfying physically, but emotionally I remained numb. He introduced me to some older gay friends and they were all over me immediately. I never needed to have a lonely Saturday night again.

I began to understand the rules of gay culture right away, at least as it was practiced in our town. There was a clear pecking order and stepping outside it seriously reduced one's status. Basically it amounted to the fact that young, good-looking guys could put their cocks wherever they wanted and older or unattractive ones were grateful receivers. If a top status guy went down on somebody it was considered a magnanimous gesture, but only the low ranked guys took it in the ass. I came into the group as a top-of-the-heap stud. Everybody wanted to service me and I admit I loved it. The emptiness of this behavior didn't escape my notice, but since I was determined never to connect emotionally with anyone again, I was willing to live with it.

By the time I graduated from high school, I was six foot four, with a dark beard, and a deep voice. It was easy to get into gay nightclubs, especially since the door guards were given large tips for NOT checking the ID of the best looking young studs. I went there often and let good-looking men pick me up. I never wanted anything from them except sex, so I hardly ever gave them my name or paid attention to theirs. For awhile I really thought I was enjoying myself. What gay guy wouldn't love to have a dozen great looking men fighting to go down on him? Or any number of less attractive ones begging him to fuck them? Yet, every time I went there I felt the hole in my gut that had been there forever, getting bigger and bigger. I became steadily more depressed. I'd use sex like a drug to dull the pain. Sometimes it was gratifying enough that I didn't think about suicide for several days.

Things were much better in my daytime life and that's what really kept me sane. I went to a fine local university to study music and finished at the top of my class. Just a few months after I graduated I auditioned with the symphony and got the job! Because guitar is not an instrument that is needed in all programs, I also had time to do make appearances on my own. I got an agent and he set me up several gigs right away. Because of my age and appearance I was in high demand to play on college campuses.

My career took me to places I had only read about and expanded my horizons in many ways. By my second year out of college I was playing several dates a year in Europe and Asia. I was able to buy Mom and I a much nicer home and I was becoming mature enough to know my sexual lifestyle was stupid and unsatisfying. I quit going to clubs when I was twenty-two. After I got a clean bill of health from a doctor (I may have thought about suicide, but I still always used condoms) I discreetly started "dating" nice men that I met through acquaintances from my previous gay hangouts. I know some of them would have liked to have a relationship, but "the wall" was as high as ever and all I had to give was sex. I wasn't even willing to let myself form a real friendship. I held everyone at arms-length. Actually at two or three arms-lengths.

Thanks to my music I was pretty happy as long as I didn't dwell on that empty feeling that never left me. When I played, I came as close to pure joy as I knew how to. I would often arrive well before rehearsal time at the symphony just to hear myself play in our acoustically excellent hall. I was playing a Spanish piece one day, thinking I was alone except for some stagehands. I heard a noise behind me and looked around and saw a man I had never seen before.

"Don't stop, please!" he said. "I love your playing. I'm so sorry for distracting you."

This guy could certainly be a distraction, all right, I thought. He was extremely attractive. He had dark hair and eyes, though not as dark as mine. He wasn't as tall as I was, but he was well-built, especially in the shoulders. The black T-shirt and jeans he was wearing outlined a really fit body. I especially noticed the muscles in his lower arms and his sinewy hands. I flashed on the thought of those hands on my body and felt a stirring of desire that took me by surprise.

I got through the rest of the piece somehow and, when I finished, he came over and put his hand out to shake. "I'm Justin Lawrence. I've just been signed as assistant conductor and pianist."

I shook his hand and felt how strong it was. Year of piano training, I assumed. My own hands are very strong and agile as a result of my work, too. "I'm Michael Malone," I told him.

"Yes, I know. I saw you play last year in New York. I'm a fan. You are an amazing musician, Michael."

Justin had the warmest eyes I'd ever looked into. He seemed to take me in and wrap a soft blanket around me. I found it disconcerting and highly erotic. "Jesus, man," I told myself, "he's undoubtedly straight. You can't afford to get all gaga over the guy."

"We've still got nearly an hour before the rehearsal," Justin said. "Would you be willing to play something with me? When I'm a dried-up old man I want to brag that I once played a duet with the legendary Michael Malone."

Justin's smile was as warm as his eyes. Kindness and tenderness seemed to radiate from him. I didn't have the faintest idea how to feel about that. I'd had very little kindness from men in my life. Frankly, it scared me. I almost let my fear push me into making some excuse and refusing to play with him, but I got control of myself and said, "Sure."

We agreed on a Bach piece that we both knew and started to play. It only took a few stanzas before I was aware of two things: Justin was a world-class musician and his style was a perfect match for mine. We played as if we'd done this together a hundred times. I often appeared in duets with pianists and it took hours of rehearsal to mesh half as well as Justin and I did by some magic instinct. I was completely blown-away by the wonder of it.

That day was the start of something totally new in my life: friendship. Without noticing how it happened I took a few bricks off the top of my "wall" and let Justin into my life. We got in the habit of meeting for lunch whenever we could and we talked for hours, if we didn't have to be somewhere. I learned that Justin was divorced with two young sons who lived with their mother nine months of the year and came to him in the summer and for two weeks at Christmas. He was crazy about his boys and showed me new pictures of them nearly every time we met. More than once I thought about what it would have been like if I'd had a father who loved me like that.

At first the friendship was very pleasing to me. Justin and I had a million things in common. We didn't always agree about everything, but it was easy to respect his perspectives. He was a great companion for some of the things I liked to do, like watching movies (both artistic and crudely funny), checking out what was new in the bookstores, and going to hear all kinds of music. We would go for a run several mornings a week. I opened up to him in a way I never had with anyone before. It felt good to share myself like that, but it wasn't long before I realized it wasn't enough. One day Justin smiled at me and I realized that I wanted to kiss him more than I'd ever wanted to do anything in my life. Now, my one steadfast rule had always been that I didn't kiss anyone, except my mother. I would suck a cock, but never suck face. Somehow it seemed more personal. 

I had shared a lot with Justin, but I'd never told him about my sexual orientation. I was as far into the closet as a person can get and I just didn't know how to bring the subject up. I was beginning to think I would have to end the friendship rather than let him see how deeply attracted to him I was.

Justin took the matter out of my hands, however. One day he just calmly told me that the reason his marriage broke up was because he was attracted to other men. He'd done some fooling around with guys in college, but his feelings frightened him and he set out to prove he was straight. When the girl he tried to prove it with got pregnant he married her and stayed faithful to her. His mind was never at peace, however. He constantly had thoughts about having sex with men. By the time his wife had their second son, he knew he couldn't live a lie anymore. He felt horrible about what he'd done to her, but he'd told his wife the truth and they divorced. She'd been bitterly angry at him at first, which he felt he deserved, but since she had fallen in love and remarried, she had tried hard to understand and forgive him.

He'd never gotten into the bar or club scene and had only had two short affairs, but he knew he'd made the right choice. "I know I'll find a man I can love someday and we'll build a life together. Or maybe I should say I'll find a man who will love me back. You see, Michael, I've already fallen in love."

I've been through some scary shit in my life, but nothing rivals that moment for sheer terror. With everything in me I wanted to be the man he loved, but I knew that I didn't have a clue how to love him back. It had honestly never occurred to me that romantic love would ever happen to me. 

I don't know what part of me was making the decisions when I blurted out, "Justin, I'm gay, too." My brain certainly hadn't planned on saying it. I might have been able to get out of there unchanged if Justin hadn't smiled at me then. That huge, warm, welcoming smile just took possession of me and the next thing I knew I was holding him in my arms and kissing the life out of him. For someone who had never kissed, I sure knew what I wanted to do. I plunged my tongue into his mouth and tasted every corner of it. I licked his beautiful, full lips and opened my mouth to his probing tongue. Thank God all of this happened in his apartment, because I think I would have done it in the middle of Main Street if the circumstances had been the same.

I wanted to strip him naked and take every part of him into every part of me, but I cared too much about him not to stop myself and let him know how messed up I can be. "Justin, I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life, but I have to tell you this. I am totally fucked up in more ways than I can count and I've never loved another human being except my Mom in my whole life. Certainly not any of the men I've had sex with. I have no idea if I can give you what you want. What you deserve!"

He was breathing as hard as I was and I could feel his heart pounding against my palms as I held him away from me so I could try to think. His pupils were dilated and the veins in his neck were visibly throbbing. Our lower bodies were pressed together and even through our heavy jeans I could feel that my rock-hard cock was pressed against one that was equally aroused.

"Michael, maybe you are going to break my heart, but if I run from this I'll regret it forever. I want to make love to you. You can call what you do to me by any name you want to."

Suddenly it was very important to do this right. My lust was telling me to rip his clothes off right here and get at it, but I wanted it to mean more than that. "Let's go to the bedroom," I said and took his hand.

When we there I began to remove his clothes with shaky hands. He was wearing a white oxford shirt, open at the neck, and I undid the next button down and kissed his throat. He sucked in his breath. I was so hard that I was afraid the skin of my prick would burst open, but I kept on moving as slowly as I could. I opened the next button and swirled my tongue through the hair on his chest. I could feel how firm his muscles were beneath the skin. Symphony conductors get great upper body workouts and Justin also lifted weights for strength training. 

I was wearing a polo shirt which I hadn't buttoned and Justin buried his face in the collar and kissed my chest. I'd never been particularly noisy when I had sex before, but I couldn't hold back the moans when his lips touched me. He lifted the shirt off over my head and looked at me. He'd seen me stripped to the waist many times when we ran along the riverfront path, but he was feasting his eyes on me as if he'd never seen me before. If all the blood in my body hadn't been in my cock, I'm sure I would have blushed under his scrutiny. When his eyes had had their fill, he pulled me against him and wrapped an arm around me. With his other hand he pulled my head to his mouth and plundered mine with his tongue.

I undid the rest of his buttons so fast I ripped a couple of them off and finally we were pressing our naked chests and stomachs together. The heat of his flesh over the steel of his muscles was intoxicating. A wild feeling welled up in me and I bit his shoulder. He growled low in his throat and began to tear open my jeans. I assaulted his waistband with equal fervor. Somehow our jeans came off and our shoes and socks. Then I pulled off his black briefs and his body was naked in my arms. My own briefs were torn off my legs and we fell onto the bed. 

God, I just wanted to crawl inside his skin! I wanted to meld with him in some way I couldn't even explain. I needed to possess him and I needed him to possess me in a primitive, animal way. I had thought I could make this slow and romantic, but I had been so wrong. Never in my life had I been as out of control. I slid down Justin's body and I took every inch of his hard, thick cock in my mouth and I stimulated it with every skill I'd ever learned. I sucked and licked. I plunged and pulled back. I took his balls in my hand and I rubbed them as hard as I could without hurting him. I fucked his cock with my mouth to the back of my throat and slid it out again to it's beautifully cut tip. I knew he couldn't hold out against this assault for long. He was moaning my name over and over and I knew he was close so I sucked hard and dug my fingertips into his butt cheeks with just enough pressure to push him over the edge. His cum filled my throat and I felt a kind of satisfaction I'd never known before.


Safe



I jam my key in the door and enter. Its dark, but I expected that, he said he wouldn't be home for a few hours. I just came in to relax, nap, and maybe find a bowl of Count Chocula. I close the door and lock it when I feel an arm around my neck, tight and restricting.

I'm too shocked to yell. My hands fly to the unknown arm and pull at it trying to stop the impending loss of blood flow. I know a choke hold when I feel one and I'm going down before I can make a mark on my attacker.

I wake to the feather soft touch of a tongue on my breast. Sucking, lightly biting. At first I'm calmed by this, having woken many times in this manner, but then I remember the struggle and the strong arms on me. My eyes fly open to darkness. I've been blindfolded. When I thrash I am greeted with a slap to the face. It moves my blindfold slightly and I see the large hands of my attacker before he moves it back over my eyes.

I am breathing hard and fast, I can't help it. My boyfriend will be home soon. I just have to be ok until then. Unless the attacker hurts him, too.

My thoughts are interrupted by the cold metallic feel of a knife gliding on my skin. Across my jaw, down my neck. I know it's a knife because it can feel where he scrapes me with it on purpose, likely leaving thin, angry red lines. It scares me more than anything else has so far. And being scared turns me on. I don't want to be turned on. I want to figure a way out of this, but his mouth is on my neck, licking where the knife trailed. He bites my neck and ear. I try to turn away from him, but his hand hold my face still. His body presses down on mine, and I realize my arms are being held down as well. Rope maybe? Cuffs?

I feel him cut away at the fabric of my dress. Slowly sawing it to pieces. Nicking my skin here and there along the way, seemingly on purpose. I feel the cold air touch my skin where he's pulled my dress away. My chest is heaving with adrenaline and fear. He cuts it right along the center of me, down between my breasts, past my belly button, until his knife is resting on my cunt. I barely move to breathe. I'm terrified of what he'll do next. He lifts the sides of my dress and pulls them open. His knife is back to cutting, along my shoulders so I am completely cut out of my dress, and then between my breasts. It slides neatly between my skin and the fabric until he flicks it up and cuts through the bra as well. It makes an awful ripping noise as my breasts fly out.

I hear him hum in approval. He licks my breasts, softly, and then harder, using teeth. He bites down on one side. It hurts, I feel slightly sick to my stomach with pain, then he's sucking on it, massaging it with his tongue, and then biting again. I whimper in pain. I can't help it. His hand mashes my other breast like dough. I know there will be bruises there later.

And just like that he's off of me. I can hear him walking around the room. I try to move, to get up, to move my blindfold. I can't really get anything done with my bindings. I hear clicking and see flashes. It's like I'm seeing a gun fire though a blindfold and without the sound on. Then I realize, he's taking pictures of this. Of me. It scares me more than the knife. His hand in in my hair then, forcing my face to the side and I feel something prod my lips. Its soft and warm and wet and I realize his cock is hard from this.

When I don't open my mouth his hands clamps on my nose and mouth suffocating me. He holds me like that, without me being able to breath, both his large hands on my face until I think I'm going to pass out again and he lets go. When I open my mouth to gasp, his cock slides easily into my mouth. He lets me catch my breath before he slams it to the very back of my throat. I hear the camera click again. Tears well in my eyes from the cock in my throat and the embarrassment of the photo. His hand is in my hair again, controlling my head, using it as leverage to drive himself into me. He pushes down my throat and holds it there. I can feel myself being suffocated again. I gag and he pulls out, slapping me. He pushes himself toward me again, and I can feel his large, hairy balls on my face. He is nearly sitting on my face, my tongue being pushed further and further back toward his ass as he grinds on my face when I hear the clicking again.

He gets the knife again and I can feel it slide along my tights and feel them split beneath it. Then my panties are cut, right down the middle, so the knife is between my cunt lips pulling up through the fabric. He pulls these off. And I can feel him jacking off while he goes back to grinding on me. When I think he's going to cum, he doesn't. He stops and I can hear him rustling around again in another part of the room.

His hands are on my cunt now. I wish it weren't but it's wet. Dripping even. He pulls my labia with his fingers and I feel a slight pinch. Then another. Its repeated I don't know how many times. His finger brushes my clit, which is hard and big and slick. The slight pinching is getting more intense as it doesn't stop. He's clipped something onto me. Then he has my nipples and is pulling on them and I feel the same slight pinch. It grows, the feeling, from my cunt and my nipples. It starts to swell and move out through my body. It feels like I'm pulsing all over. I can hear the clicking again, but I don't even care. I can only feel my cunt and tits. He pulls my tits and I feel more pinching, but not just on my nipples. On the sides, all over. I start to cry and he shoves my panties in my mouth. He shakes my cunt, my tits, making the pinching more pronounced, and then he slaps my face.

"You're mine so get used to this," the voice growls.

It's the first time my attacker has said anything. Fear, white hot, flashes through me. I know that voice. His hands fly to my throat when he feels me stiffen in recognition. I feel the world shimmer, slide away, and I pass out.

When I gasp awake, he pushes something into my cunt and begins taking the clips or clamps off of me. My cunt explodes in pain as the blood rushes back. It feels like he's ripping them off, though I can tell he's being precise and gentle. I begin crying in earnest. And then his tongue in on my cunt, soothing it. Lapping at what has become so wet during my ordeal. He shifts and I feel slack in my hands while he goes back to licking. There are still ropes around my wrists, but I can move them better. His hands hold my wrists down as he climbs on me, spreading my legs, and slides, one long fluid motion, into my cunt. He stops and takes off the clips from my breasts. I'm too much in pain and shock to push him back as he lowers himself on me again.

He pushes and pulls himself in and out of me. I feel the pain in my tits calm and dissipate. He takes the panties from my mouth and kisses me. Hard. Bright. Consuming. Deep. I arch my back against him. His body is familiar. Warm. Loving. I'm covered in him.

"I would never hurt you," he says in my ear. I cry some, with relief and release. He pushes harder, forcing me toward climax. "I would never, never hurt you. You're safe here." And I cum, hard and strong. I gush all over him and the bed.



Safe



"Oh, God, Michael. I had no idea. I thought I'd had sex before, but I was wrong. THAT was beyond anything I've even dreamed of," he gasped.

I was so thrilled that I'd given him such pleasure. But as the joy of it filled me, I could feel the panic coming on. I didn't deserve this! I didn't deserve his love and I would lose it. I couldn't become dependant on it. My mind was trying to poison what was happening, but Justin took my prick into his mouth and my mind shut up. I let myself go into a world of only my senses and let the waves of pleasure wash over me. He wasn't as experienced as I was, but his lovemaking technique was as matched to my needs as his music was to mine. He made love to my cock. There is just no other word for it. His lips and tongue didn't fail to explore a millimeter of it. I couldn't have sorted out the pieces of what he was doing for anything. It was just all perfect and he drew an orgasm out of me that reached to the bottom of my soul.

Afterwards we wrapped our arms around each other and, for a while, I was the most content I had ever been in my life. I was so close to peace and joy I could taste it. That's when I had to fuck it up.

It was the panic, of course, and the negative thoughts. I was afraid of trusting in his love, afraid of needing it, terrified that I was unable to give back what he needed. When I should have looked him in his kind eyes and told him I loved him, instead I got up and said, "That was hot. Thanks." I put my clothes on and went home, without a backward glance. Justin never said a word.

By all rights he should have refused to ever look at me again, or maybe beat the shit out of me. I deserved it and I knew it. I've never been a drinker, because of my father, but I got plastered that night and I stayed plastered for three days. My mother had no clue what had happened, but she called the symphony and told them I was sick and then she told me, "I don't know what brought this about, but I didn't get us away from your father to have you end up in the gutter. Get yourself together, son. I won't cover for you again." Then she put her arms around me and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Oh, Mom! I had real honest-to-God love in the palm of my hand and I pissed it away. I must be the biggest jerk in the world."

"Have you told him you regret whatever you did, son? Asked for forgiveness?"

It took a second for the pronoun to register. I just looked at her and said, "Him?"

"Michael, even if I hadn't figured out years ago that you're gay, seeing you and Justin on stage together would have made it obvious. The two of you are so aware of each other that I expected to see lightening arc between you. He seems like a really good man. Why don't you try apologizing? This hyper macho act you put on isn't working for you anymore. Let down your guard, dear."

I promised I'd think about what she said, but I felt so unworthy of being forgiven.

I continued to wallow in my agony, but I gave up the anesthetic of booze. Finally the fifth day of my self-made hell, I struggled out of bed, brushed my teeth, and took a shower. I was just finishing putting my clothes on when the doorbell rang. Mom was at work so I answered it. There was Justin on my doorstep, looking just about as ragged as I did.

My first impulse was to say something cold and stupid again, but I held it back. My second impulse was to throw myself in his arms and beg for forgiveness. A true coward, I held that back, too. I just stood there and stared at him and finally he pushed me aside and came into the house. I think I was preparing for a well-deserved punch in the nose, but what I got was a hot, angry kiss. 

"This is too stupid for words, Michael. I'm not putting up with it another minute! What in the HELL is wrong with you? And don't even try to tell me what happened didn't shatter your world the way it did mine. I know it did. I could feel it."

I have no idea where the words came from, but I poured out my whole life story. I told him about my father and Mr. X and how the way they treated me made me feel. I told him about how I had had sex many times, but never made love until I was with him. I told him about "the wall" and how afraid I was that it could never be breached. He listened without a word. On his face where I was afraid I'd see rejection I saw only compassion and kindness. He wept unashamedly at what had happened to me, something I had never let myself do. When I was done he took me in his arms and held me solidly against him. Strength and gentleness: Isn't that what all of us dream of?

"We've got a challenge ahead of us, Michael, but we're going to take it on. I'm not letting you back away from me out of fear. If you decide you don't love me, so be it, but you are going to risk it and I'm going to stay for the duration."

The next few weeks were painful, but necessary. I started sessions with a psychologist who specialized in helping adults who had been sexually abused in childhood. She was very wise and she helped me see a lot of things more clearly. She showed me that I had become an abuser to myself by refusing to let my real feelings out.

I told myself I should stay out of Justin's bed until I got my head straight, but, of course, I couldn't. I went to him every night. I loved how it felt to feel him cum in my mouth. His whole body would vibrate with passion just before and then he would cry out my name with his release. Afterwards he always told me he loved me. I know it hurt him that I wasn't ready to say it back, but he didn't withhold any part of himself from me while I worked out my demons. I just couldn't let myself spend the whole night with him, though. It seemed more intimate than I thought I could be.

In spite of that, our lovemaking was amazing. One day after I had orally satisfied him and was expecting him to give me the same pleasure, as he always did, he handed me a tube of lubricant and said, in a husky whisper, "I need you inside me, Michael. Please fuck me."

It was so easy for him to ask for what he wanted. Why was it so hard for me? Of course I did what he asked, and it was beautiful. He hadn't done it very often and he was so tight. The physical pleasure for me was better than anything I had ever experienced before. His body welcomed me with the same warmth and love he'd showed me in a thousand ways. I've pounded lots of assholes, but I became part of Justin. We moved together in perfect sync and I stroked his beautiful cock as we did it so we came at almost the same moment. Again, he said he loved me.

I'd told him how hard it was for me to make myself sexually vulnerable; to offer my full trust and show any neediness. So he knew what it meant to me when I rolled on my back and said, "Justin, I'm asking you - no, BEGGING you, to show me what it feels like to have a man inside me who truly loves me." Tears came to his eyes as they did so easily. I silently prayed for the day I could let my own emotions out the way he did.

He held me and kissed me for a long time before he put on the lube and put his cock inside my body. We did it with me on my back so I could look at him. I'd never in my life done that before. He stood beside the bed and watched me as he pushed himself inside me, then drew back his shaft to the head. Each forward plunge filled me with his heat and his passion. He was slow at first, but he sensed the rhythm I needed, as he always did, and soon we were pounding our bodies together as if we could become one flesh. He didn't touch my cock and neither did I, but for the first time, I realized I was going to climax without that. When I splashed my cum all over him and my own belly, Justin cried out and I could feel his release filling me up. Afterward I rolled to my side and he lay down behind me and spooned against me. I fell into a deep sleep immediately.

I had fallen asleep in such a perfect state of contentment that I was shocked when the nightmare came. I'd had them most of my life, but this one caught me by surprise. I couldn't remember most of it afterwards, thank God, but my father was there and so was Mr. X and they were hurting me. They were telling me I deserved to be hurt. I was trying to run. I was sweating and running and getting nowhere when suddenly I was awake and Justin was holding me and saying over and over again, "You're safe, Michael! You're safe in my arms! They can't hurt you anymore. You AREN'T worthless! You're worth anything. Everything! Your mother was willing to die for you when she would step between you and your father. I'd die for you, too, and if you'll have me I'll live for you. Along with my kids, you'll be the center of my life."

I turned and looked at him and I knew right down to the bottom of my soul that every word of it was true. 

"Michael," he told me, "it's safe to love me, because I'm going to love YOU until my dying breath."

I don't know what words I babbled then, other than the longest string of "I love you, I love you, I love you ..." that anyone ever said. When I was sure I had gotten my message across, I rolled on top of Justin, buried my face in his chest and cried my heart out. I cried for every miserable moment of my childhood and adolescence and as I did I could feel the memories losing their power over me. "The wall" splintered in a million pieces inside me and I was flooded with a joy I hadn't known existed. He held me through it all and supported me with his remarkable strength and gentle heart.

Today is our first anniversary. Not of the first time we made love, but of the night I surrendered my heart without reservation. Our lives are often complicated these days with performance schedules and the kids coming and going. They call their stepfather Daddy George and they just naturally started calling me Daddy Michael. I don't have the words to say how much it means to me.

Because I knew that most abusers have been abused themselves, I talked to my psychologist about the kids. I would rather cut off my dick than hurt them! She gave me some tests and she told me they confirmed her instincts. 

"You're missing a key part of the abuser profile, Michael. They always have a sense of entitlement. 'I was used so I have a right to use others.' You have none of that in you at all. Not to mention you show no signs of being sexually attracted to kids. Those boys are totally safe with you."

Once I felt secure about that, I asked Justin and the kids to move into my house. We have plenty of room because Mom had recently surprised me with the happy news that she was in love and planning to marry again. My new stepfather is a great guy and he adores Mom. Now that I know what it means to be loved, I am so happy she's found someone to give her that wonderful feeling. 

For Justin and me, our commitment is total. A few months ago the symphony asked everyone to write new biographies for the concert programs. After all the listings of where we'd studied and where we'd performed, we have a little space for personal information. Justin wrote, "Mr. Lawrence shares his life with his two children and the love of his life, guitarist Michael Malone." No closets for us anymore! After I read his bio I wrote, "Mr. Malone would not have a life without his beloved partner, conductor and pianist Justin Lawrence."

I hear the symphony got a few calls of protest when the programs were handed out the first time, but we got far more support than I would have dreamed. Donations went up immediately and the next time Justin conducted he got a standing ovation before he even started. After another concert two of the horn players came up to me and one who is known as Jolly, a plump fellow in his fifties, told me, "Don't think you boys are alone. Pete and I have been blowing each others' horns for years. All of us in the orchestra, straight and gay, are proud of you two for claiming your right to love each other." 

I appreciate the support, but even if the whole world were against us, I'd stay right where I am: Safe in his arms.



Safe



She woke up in the dark. 

Felt her face. It was wet with tears.



Then she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, in the dark, next to her.



"What ...?" she said.



"Shh...you're dreaming. Dreaming about me again," he said.



She leaned back onto her pillow.



She could see his eyes in the dark. He reached out and wiped her face gently with his thumb, tracing her tears.



"Do I always cry?" she said.



"I don't think so. I've only seen it a handful of times. And you dream about me a lot," he said.



She reached out her hand to him. He took it. He was ....different. So was she. There was no fear. No pretense. She just wanted his hand, so she took it. And he gave it gladly.



"How are you here? Are you dreaming about me at the same time?" she asked in a whisper.



"Maybe. I know I do sometimes. I don't know how I'm here. I just know I'm not really. I mean, I am, but I'm not," he said.



She closed her eyes and turned onto her side, holding his hand to her cheek against the pillow.



"I think I'm here to comfort you. I don't know. That's just what I feel," he said. His hand was on her back.



Her tears were drying. 

"I'm so glad you are here. For whatever reason," she said.



His other hand went to her back.



"Are you ok? I mean, really?" he said.



"Yes. I am now," she said.



"You know how I feel about you, don't you?" he whispered. He said her name.



"I think I do. I'm not totally sure," she said.



"Move over," he said.



She moved to give him room, and he stretched out on the bed next to her. For the first time in a long time, she didn't think about fucking him. She didn't think about anything physical. She didn't want things. She just felt things. Felt them running through her.



"Hold me. Will you?" she said.



"Of course," he said.



They were face to face on the bed. She had no idea what she looked like. She didn't care.



Neither did he. 

His hand stroked the side of her face. 

"I think I'm supposed to tell you how I feel," he said. 

They were eyes to eyes. Face to face. His hands moved to pull her to him. Her hands moved around his neck. Still, she didn't want to rip his clothes off. The pull was somewhere else. It was in her heart.



His mouth grazed hers. He gave her a soft, gentle kiss.



He said her name.



"I think you are amazing. And talented. And brave. And honest," he said.

He touched her face.



"And beautiful. Inside and out," he said.



Her eyes filled with tears again, but they didn't fall. 



"Shh. This is supposed to be helping," he said.



"It is. It is," she said.



"I don't know what there is to do. Or what we should do. Probably nothing. I just wanted to tell you how I feel. I think you needed to know tonight," he said.



She closed her eyes and smiled. She was all right with all of that. 

" I don't want you to be sad. You should be happy. All day. Every day. You deserve it," he said.



She put her finger to his mouth.



"Thank you," she said.



She was so exhausted.



"Will you hold me until I go back to sleep? I think I can sleep now," she said. She could breathe him in with every sleepy breath. It was intoxicating. A spreading relaxation moved through her arms. Through her back. 

"Of course," he said. He pulled her to him. Her head was at his chest. She could hear his heart beating for the first time. He stroked her hair like she was a child.



She was so warm in his arms. She realized that she felt amazingly safe. It was one of the best things about him. He always made her feel safe.



She drifted off to the most relaxing sleep she had felt in months, his hand strong on her back, his other stroking her hair, surrounded by him.



She whispered his name.



"Yes," he answered, saying hers.



"I am so fucking in love with you," she said.



There was a moment of quiet.



He pulled her back for a second to look in her eyes one more time. 



"I know," he said. 

He kissed her forehead.



"Now sleep," he said.



The End. 



Safe



As is usual with many of my stories, if it's hardcore graphic detail you want -- move on to the next submission, This is about feelings, emotions, inner conflict. Also as usual, please give me feedback -- it's the only way I'll improve. If you don't like it -- tell me why. If you do like it, then tell me why as well. If you do read on -- thanks for making the effort!

++++++++

The second kiss was everything she knew it would be. There was a brief touch of tongues then he slowly moved away from her mouth, and softly kissed her cheek. She barely felt his touch as his hand eased her shoulder length hair out of the way and his breath caressed her neck and ears. Her head went back as she let out an involuntary moan.

Her brain screamed at her: This isn't supposed to happen! Stop him!

He nibbled, licked and kissed her neck, then taking what seemed liked hours, he moved back to the softest lips he could remember. She exhaled and those same lips parted as her mouth sank onto his.

Brain to Lara! Brain to Lara! Remember what we agreed? Nothing physical. Just good friends.

Oh fuck! Why did you let him touch your neck?

Ah well, in for a penny. If he's as good at pressing the buttons as he seems to be ... I know where this will end up.

With all the racket shouting at her in her head, Lara was amazed she could concentrate on what he was doing to her.

Oh Christ! Not the other ear! Oh Goooooood!

She managed a whisper:

"Do you know what you're doing to me?"

His hands moved up to cradle her face; his grey-green eyes locked on hers. His answer was his crooked grin and those smiling eyes.

Oh fuck! He knows EXACTLY what he's doing!

It took every ounce of her will, but Lara took a deep breath, moved her hands to his shoulder and gently pushed. Her lips were slightly parted as her rapid breathing slowly came under control. She stared into his eyes:

"I'm breaking every single rule I have ..."

He said nothing, but his eyes were no longer laughing at her. They just smiled, knowing. Understanding the turmoil inside her. She swallowed and whispered:

"But would you like to come inside? For coffee ... or something?"

His whole face beamed the answer.

She fished her key from her handbag and turned to unlock the door. His arms enveloped her waist from behind. He did that thing again with his hands and her hair. All he did was breathe on her neck. She felt like her knees were refusing to support her anymore. She threw her head back onto his shoulder, offering him full access to her neck. His mouth moved round and his arms moved up to cup her breasts.

Oh my fucking God! That's so not fair!

She let out another moan as his fingers sought her nipples through the flimsy material of her top, and her bra.

"Oh you bastard!"

She twirled round. Looked him in the eye, grabbed his shirt near the top button and pulled his lips to hers. The kiss was hunger. Frenzy.

Lara pulled away again, her eyes shone in the light from the streetlamp outside her house. They were amber flames.

"Inside! Now!"

As she pushed the door open, her mind went back.

A week? Was it really only last Friday? How the fuck did I let this happen?

xxXXxx

"Lara, this is Keith. Keith, this is my best friend, Lara -- you'll be safe with her."

Keith thanked Sally, and turned to Lara:

"Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand. She took it and didn't let go for a few milliseconds longer than was normal. He just let his hand slide away from hers -- almost as if he were stroking it.

Well, well, well, this might not be a totally wasted evening after all!

The cocktail party, celebrating the opening of some photography exhibition or other, had been rather dull for Lara up to that point. But Keith looked interesting ... a bit old maybe, but her surreptitious look up and down his body showed he was in pretty decent shape (tick). And he had two gorgeous eyes (tick).

"So Keith, what do you do? Apart from drink free Champagne?"

He waved his hand dismissively.

"Oh the usual dull business stuff. But my pastime is writing. Maybe one day it'll bring me enough income that I can quit my day job."

Brain to Lara! Brain to Lara! That's another tick -- you missed it! Oh, and close your mouth.

She was just about to launch into the thousand questions that had started up in her brain, when she stopped herself, a thought nagging at her:

"Sal said you'd be safe with me. Why do you need to be safe?"

Keith smiled and shrugged:

"Oh that's Sally. She promised Kate, my wife, that she wouldn't let me fall into the clutches of any single women. Kate seems to think women might be attracted to me. Don't buy it myself, but I guess I fooled her into liking me I suppose."

Lara mentally scrubbed out the ticks and hoped the disappointment didn't show in her face.

Ah well -- he's probably crap in bed!

"So Keith, why's your wife not here?"

"Oh she had to work." Once again, that dismissive wave of his arm. "But what do you do?"

Lara told him about her job, as quickly and boringly as she could, and started on the writing questions.

It was almost two hours later when they realised the place had almost emptied.

Where the hell did that time go?

"Look, I dominated you with my boring conversation all evening. Can I give you a lift home to thank you?"

Lara smiled. Why do I feel like I've known him years?

"That would be very nice. And it was far from boring."

They found Sally and thanked her. She smiled:

"I knew you'd come to no harm with Lara."

As they left, Keith asked Lara what Sally meant by that.

"Oh that's easy. I have a reputation. A strict code. 'No married men'."

She turned and her lips curled into a smile:

"I had one once, but I divorced him." (A wink)

Nice touch - that wink. You didn't mention the "no older men" either -- but yeah, don't tell him that! That would not be cool.

The smile, his nod and the "Aaah, I see!" said it all.

They talked more as he weaved his way along the Surrey roads, following her directions, until they got to her house. He walked her to the door, noticing the light on inside and some movement. He looked at her with a frown.

"Babysitter. Thank you for a ... really nice evening."

Then came that kiss. The first. It was no more than a peck on the cheek. Given the seismic effect of that, Lara should not have been surprised by the follow up, a week later ....

But the first follow up had occurred on the following Monday. Lara's first day off in the half term holiday was being spent getting her lesson plans out of the way. She was prepping for her GCSE class and the struggle (for them) that was King Lear. Lara absolutely loved the story of the ageing King, and she wanted to inspire her class. She was wondering about getting them "into it" more when his email arrived.

+++++++

From: Keith Ingram

To: Lara Morton

Subject: Thank you (again)

Hi

Hope you don't mind. I got your email address from Sally. Just wanted to say again how much I enjoyed your our conversation on Friday. It turned a dull evening into a very, very pleasant one. You are very good company. Thanks again.

Well, if you have any free time and fancy coffee or a walk or something to continue the chat, you can now get hold of me.

Keith

+++++++

Danger Will Robinson! Achtung! Mayday! Don't do it Lara! Just don't! Remember Rule 1 ... AND Rule 2 for fuck's sake!

Her hand was on her mouse and the pointer was on the REPLY button. The conflict in her head was raging.

"Oh what the hell (click) it's only coffee."

Oh great! With one tiny movement of your right index finger, you've doomed us!

Lara's plan for the next day was to meet Keith mid afternoon, have a coffee and some more banter and chat for half an hour, leaving her a couple of hours for retail therapy. She didn't do any shopping. After two and a half hours of talking, giggling like a teenager and just looking at Keith's smiling eyes as they discussed favourite books, Lara realised that she was late for picking up her two daughters.

Hastily grabbing her bag and sliding her sunglasses into position from the top of her head, she apologised for dashing off. And with a hug and a promise to email him, she dashed out, leaving him wondering what the hell just happened.

As Lara pulled up outside their friends' house, she could see the children in the back garden. The realisation hit her; she'd driven there completely on autopilot. She couldn't recall a single thing about the drive -- her mind was full of Keith Ingram - his smile, his quick wit, his humourous banter -- but most of all his eyes. And the electricity she'd felt as his hand touched her arm or hand to emphasise a point.

Okay girl, put those thoughts and those touches on the back burner. Time to be "mum".

Lara didn't see Keith on Wednesday or Thursday. Instead they swapped approaching a hundred emails. Some long, some just a single word. Every one just cementing their friendship with witty comments, questions about each other -- music, favourite films, holidays -- everything under the sun ... well, almost everything. Then on Friday morning, the inevitable email arrived:

+++++++

From: Keith Ingram

To: Lara Morton

Subject: Tonight

Dinner?

Keith

+++++++

Lara replied in an instant:

"What do you think? Pick me up at 7:30"

Then she added: "The girls are at their dad's this weekend"

Lara looked at it for full minute, finger hovering over the mouse button to send it.

Oh come on! Remember your rules. You might as well have said -- Hey, pack your toothbrush! Slut! Just friends -- remember!

She hit the delete key and the last sentence disappeared.

He arrived on the dot at 7:30.

OMG the bastard has brought flowers!

Dinner ... conversation, eye contact, touching hands, sparks.

The doorstep. The second kiss, passion, lust, desire.

Once inside Keith turned Lara round and pressed her against the wall. He searched the depths of her eyes as his right hand stroked the errant locks of her hair from her face. The kiss was tenderness itself. As his lips moved to her neck, his hand pushed the thin strap of her dress over her shoulder. He kissed her shoulder and arm, moving an inch at a time. Lara's head was back and her eyes shut tight, as her breathing got heavier and heavier.

As he moved his mouth back onto hers the kissing was hard, intense and his other hand slipped off the other strap. Lara let out a half sigh, half moan. She pushed him away gently and the top of her dress slipped to her waist.

"If we're going to do this, if I'm going to break my rules ... then I'm going to it in comfort. Lara grabbed Keith's shirt collar and towed him up the stairs.

It wasn't so much the late May sunshine streaming through the crack in the curtains that woke Lara, as much as the realisation that her head was lying on something that wasn't a pillow. Keith's steady breathing made her realise that the feeling of closeness, warmth (and love?) in bed in the morning was something she really missed. The strong smell of sex, the bedclothes all over everywhere, Keith's lean, naked body half exposed ... the memory of his touch, the way he stroked her skin making the little hairs stand on end. Her mind remembered every detail. The way he kissed her -- lips, neck, ears, nipples, her tummy and ...

Oh my God, he was so fucking good at that!

By the time he'd finished she was screaming for him to be inside her. The memory of how that felt took her breath away. She'd thought he was good, but the truth was THEY were good. The friendship and closeness that had grown in the short week they'd known each other had led to the most explosive, intense, fulfilling, addictive couple of hours of sex she could remember.

So much for just good friends! Actually that's the problem -- we ARE good friends.

She turned to check the time.

"Oh fuck!"

She turned back to look at Keith, who still hadn't moved.

Well that's not a bad thing! You can go to the bathroom, shower, brush your teeth and look presentable when he wakes up. Then you can leave him to sort himself out while you get the girls.

A while later, she had a towel wrapped round herself and was sorting out her hair when, despite the fact she had her back to him, she realised he was watching her from the bed. Looking in the mirror she smiled:

"Morning sleepy head!"

"You're getting dressed. I was rather hoping ..." he let the sentence fade.

"There are two good reasons why that log you have between your legs is not coming anywhere near me. First, I have to collect my daughters from their dad's place in ... err ... thirty two minutes. Then I have to get them to their football training. Now I could come back then and ... we could erm ... you know, do as you suggest. But then there's the second reason. I don't think I'm going to able to walk for a bloody week -- so, no I don't think that's going to happen. Besides, aren't you supposed to playing golf with Sally's better half?"

"I could call Peter, and tell him the situation ... some more time with you is more appealing."

"Yeah, yeah! You only want me for sex. You come on all friendly and intellectual and then once you've got me between the sheets that's all you think about."

"Do you mean that?" He actually looked hurt.

"The thought had occurred."

"No, look at you. You're clever, intelligent, funny, sparky, sensible - sometimes. You're good looking, actually very good looking, sexy, sensual. And what you can do with your mouth is ... exceptional."

"See! Back to sex!"

As they were talking she was pulling on her clothes. Then she turned and walked over to the bed, and picked up his hands.

"Thank you for a truly wonderful night. You're amazing." She bent down and kissed him. Then abruptly she stopped and moved away.

"There's coffee, juice, bread, everything downstairs. Help yourself. I'm late, and have to go."

"Where's the switch?"

Her brow wrinkled in a questioning look.

"The switch that turns you from wild lover to soccer mum. You just flicked it. Remarkable. See you are sensible ... sometimes."

She picked up a pillow and beat him round the head.

"You wait 'til next time."

Then she turned and went.

So you reckon there'll be a next time? Don't count on it babe. He got you hooked, reeled you in and had his fun. The end.

Well, if that's the case, it was definitely fun.

The girls had been delivered to football, and Lara went into the coffee shop. She lifted the sunglasses onto the top of her head, so she could pick out Sally in the darker room. Her friend was reading a newspaper over in the comfy chairs, in what they'd christened "their corner". Lara smiled, walked over and they hugged and set about their usual Saturday morning girlie chat. After a few minutes Sally asked if Keith had got in touch, because he'd asked for Lara's email.

Lara looked down to pick up her coffee, and as casually as she could muster, she said yes he had.

Well that lack of eye contact, coupled with the fact your face is the same colour as a Ferrari certainly gave nothing away!

Sally looked at her, not saying anything.

"Do you like that woman's handbag?" Lara's vain attempt at subject changing was never going to work.

"Spill," was all Sally said.

A sigh:

"Yes, we went out to dinner last night."

Silence. A stern look. More piercing eyes.

"Oh fuck, you did, didn't you? You broke your bloody rules."

Lara just smiled, relieved she could tell her best friend.

"He is, no we were, amazing. It was so bloody hot. You have no idea."

Sally just shook her head, raised her eyebrows, and then laughed. She hugged her friend and whispered in her ear:

"Well, at least it sounds like it was worth breaking the rules for."

Lara nodded, then said:

"Look, I've asked him loads of times about his wife, Kate, but he just avoids answering. Just shrugs, and says some one word answers and then diverts me. What's the story? What does she do that she's away all the time?"

To this day, Lara swears that she heard a thunk as Sally's jaw hit the table.

"What?" was all Lara could say as her friend just stared at her. "What's the matter?"

"Oh ... my ... God. You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"You have no idea who Kate is, do you?"

Lara just shook her head. Sally picked up the paper she'd been reading and flicked to the Showbiz gossip pages. She lay the paper on the table in front of Lara and pointed to the photo. It was a typical Hollywood red carpet photo -- woman in a spectacularly expensive, very revealing evening gown and a man in a tuxedo. The caption read:

"On the red carpet for their latest blockbuster, Kate Stopford and co-star ..."

Lara didn't read any more. It was her jaw's turn to hit the table.

"Keith's married to Kate Stopford? The face of Olay or L'Oreal or whatever. One of the most beautiful women in the whole fucking world. Wasn't she voted FHM's sexiest forty year old or something?"

"Actually, it was sexiest MILF. But let's not go there."

"Well, that answers a lot. He came on all friendly and chatty -- and all he wanted all along was a fuck because his stunning wife wasn't around. I should have bloody known. What could he possibly see in me, when he goes home to MILF of the fucking year, or whatever she is? And he is the envy of half the men in the world -- and probably some women too."

Sally reached over and touched her arm:

"Sorry hun. Look, at least you had some great sex -- do you think you could get him to give Pete some hints."

The women looked at each other, and both started laughing. Lara looked at her friend:

"Yeah, like he's really going to call me. By the way, have you read any of his stuff?"

"No, he told me Kate said that it was rubbish. Well, I think she said 'mediocre'."

"It's a bit rough round the edges -- but it's good. I'd even say very good. I'd certainly pay to read it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Wonder why she puts it down?"

They talked on until it was time to collect their kids. As they walked out of the shop, Sally shook her head.

"Not sure which I can't believe most. That you broke your rules, or that you didn't know whose husband you'd shagged!"

Sometime after nine that evening Lara was casually flicking channels while cradling a glass of red. The house phone rang, and she thought twice about answering it as she didn't recognise the number.

"Hi. It's me. I noted your landline number this morning. I just ..."

Lara cut him off:

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Silence. Then a sigh, and:

"I didn't tell you because it was irrelevant. The only relevant thing is how I felt about you. I just loved talking to you, and being with you. I knew that if you knew who Kate was, you'd freak out. You'd think 'why would he want me when he's got her?' Right? And then it would all change. And I don't want it to change. Last night was so, so special."

"Yes, it was. Look I need some time to think."

"Okay -- but it's not just explosive, mindblowing sex you know. It's the whole package. It's you, gorgeous, funny, witty Lara Morton. It's you."

The line whined as he hung up at his end.

And on that bombshell! Oh shit. Why is life so bloody complicated?

The first day back hadn't been too bad. The year 11 class had loved her innovative approach to King Lear. They really seemed to get it. Mug of tea in hand, Lara was just about to catch up with last Friday's "Graham Norton Show" -- and her mind went back to what had stopped her watching it at the time. She smiled inwardly, reliving Keith's touch, his breath on her neck, his tongue on her ...




Safe



The doorbell rang. Lara dragged herself off the comfy sofa and although she knew she should check who was there first, she just opened it.

"Hello Lara."

"Hello Katherine."

"I'd say you haven't changed a bit, but darling, you have."

Still a bitch, after all these years!

"You'd better come in. I'm not going to have a fight on my doorstep. Just remember my children are in bed."

Kate Stopford pushed past her through the door:

"Nice little place." There was just too much emphasis on the little.

"So Katherine, what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to say you can just fuck off, but I think you just ought to know that I know about you and Keith. Imagine my surprise when I saw the name on his emails -- my, my there were a lot weren't there? You were a busy little pair."

Lara didn't say anything.

"Look, things don't change. Remember ... oh what was his name ... at school?"

"Roger."

"Oh yes, Roger -- that's it ..."

Lara's thoughts took over and she didn't really hear what her old schoolfriend, no not friend - definitely not friend, had to say.

Roger. First love. God how it hurt when she just fluttered her eyelids and he came running. The memory was a dagger.

" ... so you see, nothing's changed. You may think something is yours, but I can take it whenever I want. Keith's mine Understand? He's good PR. Makes me look 'normal' to my fans. And beside, he's better in bed than anyone else I know. Oh, but you know that, don't you? Oh, note to self, go see the doctor and get checked."

Lara took a deep breath and caught sight of the mug her children had given her for Mothers' Day -- "Keep Calm and be awesome". She smiled, and looked her nemesis in the eye:

"Oh I understand. More and better now than I ever did. I see a lot of it at school. You're nothing but an egotistical bully. You don't want Keith -- well, you do. But only because someone else has him. The only thing I don't understand is how he can't see through you. But then again, you are one of the world's leading actresses."

"I can make life very awkward for you."

"At greater cost to yourself ... no, you don't want the bad PR. Besides, it's not up to you, or up to me. It's up to Keith. It's his decision. Now I'd like to watch Graham Norton, so would you like to leave my little house?"

Lara's heart was pounding as she shut the door. She leaned back against it -- still not sure who'd won the exchange. But she felt awesome, so that was a good sign.

Graham was just about to pull the lever on the first red chair audience member when the phone rang.

"Hi, It's me. We need to talk."



Safe



I want to be your monster. The terrible thing you make a pact with to hold you in the night and keep you safe. Who keeps you close and warm and safe from all the other bumps in the night. The man who's presence can lull you to sleep or wake you up with a gasp, merely from where I touch you. To keep you as secure in my grip as you are in my thoughts.

---

Something about you rouses me from sleep and I find my hands sliding through your hair in the scant light of the pre-dawn. It takes a moment to adjust, to really come back into focus, so I let my hands do my thinking for me. They travel the length of you dark hair to the end and a few extra inches over your ashen skin. 

You stir, emitting a pleasant moan. And with it I am brought back to life instantly.

My blue eyes open to scan over you as my hand slides down your back, over your spine, and back up your side. I make small circles and designs playing over it as I become aware of heavy breathing, my elevated heart rate. The cock you've made insufferably hard just by being as desirable as you are. 

This time, when my hand slides over the nape of your neck and you moan, I growl lowly and feel my cock stretch in a painful jut forward. 

There must be some expectation here because you do not move at all. No shift or waking in any way. How many times have you made me growl for you before its even light outside? How often have I painted little invisible symbols on your back so that you don't even wake when it's happening?

I move closer to you, my left hand snaking up to reach under you so I can slide my index finger up and down the front of your neck. My right hands surfs along your curves, from your knee up to the middle of your thigh. From your hip to the small of your stomach and up your ribs and over your arm. It's a journey I've made a thousand times and want to make a million more. I am only a man though, and my hand drops to move over the side of your right breast.

There is no way I can avoid touching them, not if I can help it, and often if I can't. I wonder how any man could. My fingers trace along the outer rim, touching both your breast and the skin of your chest, doing my best to avoid your nipple. I trace a concentrated circle around the edge before drifting aimlessly across your torso, your thighs and up again as a second finger begins to stroke the front of your neck.

My cock is too hard and full to hide, so I press the whole of my body up against yours, and let it fall between your thighs. There is just the hint of heat of and wetness without touching and knowing it's there, how close I am, makes just the tiniest bit of human escape through hot, wanting breath. 

You mumble something in sleep talk, but I do not hear it. And it doesn't matter what it was at this point—the outcome is set.

Fingers stop stroking your neck and instead my hand slowly clasps around it, not to tighten or choke in anyway, just to hold it. To claim you. To have you in hand because I can't get any closer to you.

Something dark rises to the surface. It wants to talk from the back of my throat and move hot blood through my body like I'm running in the summer. Like I'm dying of thirst and I need to squeeze water out of you. As though there is no other way for us to be. It ramps up the sensation of your skin on mine, of my touch on you, of the closeness of our bodies and the cold comfort of the night. It tells me to smell you.

And it is so right to do so. This is when you smell best. When there is only the after-hint of perfume, when the shampoo has all but left. When the only thing I get, truly sense, is you. The smell of your hair. Your skin. It is intimate and close and I wouldn't trade it for any other thing you can give until I need the next part of your more.

Lips press into your shoulder. Long, slow pulses pressed into you before I suck the tiniest bit. Move and repeat. No quick trail, no rapid burst, just me trying my best to get some of the taste of you in my mouth.

You shift and the tip of your pussy lips rub against the top of my cock before it slides between your thighs again. Innocent, or so I think, but it exercises a little bit more of the man right out of me. 

I growl and you shift again. You start to turn so I pull back and let you move towards me. Your eyes are small and covered in fog, but you give me a smile and say hi. 

Hi, I say back.

You lean your head up expectantly and we kiss, lightly, morning breath and all. It deepens a little but you pull back and look at me. You hold my gaze for a moment before your eyes close again and you nuzzle into my arm, ignoring my hand around your neck like its not even there. And after a moment, you fall black asleep.

My right hand plays up and down your thighs, the full of my palm sliding against your skin, pulling and coax one leg towards me and the other away. I repeat the process a few times until I've opened your legs enough to slink in between them. I release my grip on you as I slide out from under your weight to place a kiss near your navel. I place a small trail of them leading your chest so that I can place a few short, quick ones on the side of your beautiful breasts. But I can't resist, and the kisses become longer, slower, more needy. Before I know it I'm taking small pieces of you into my mouth and have to stop from sucking you, from waking you before I'm ready.

After a deep breath I come back down, kissing as I go. I make a little figure eight on your spread thighs, kissing in a semi circle on your left, finishing on the right, and ending with a single, firm kiss against your pussy. Nowhere near the top, as I don't want to touch your clit, not yet. 

You taste wonderful in the morning, despite how much you fret. A full day and a half without a shower and I would still love to eat your pussy like we had just met, with hands on your ass and face buried into you deep enough that you can feel just the hint of my beard and the full of the warmth from my skin. But just like your clit, not yet, not today. Something else is stirring in me and its far too hungry to wait.

Two more long, giving kisses on your pussy and I'm on my way back to you, to look at you for a moment. Gun to my head, I couldn't tell if you were actually asleep or not, but my need doesn't care. I reach a hand down between your lips and stroke the outside to gauge your wetness before moving a single finger in, no longer concerned with being delicate. 

You shift, but do not open your eyes, and I pull my finger immediately out. I am satisfied that you are ready.

My left hand returns to your neck to grip it as my right grabs the base of my cock, grabs it tightly, and points the head against your slit. I exhale as I push just enough into you that I can release, move my body close to yours, into your yours as my right hand pushes into the mattress to keep myself propped up.

I take a long, slow breath as I shift the weight my palm to my elbow and begin to slide into you, inch by slow inch. 

Your cunt feels amazing, every time I enter it. I pity every many who hasn't been with you and what they don't get to feel. Every fool who thinks that sex with a woman becomes less special over time. If they could only spend a little time inside you.

You shift and I groan, and that seems to bring you closer to rousing, but you say nothing, just emit little noises. 

Once all the way in I move my hand up to the side of your face to stroke your cheek as I begin to slowly move myself in and out of you. Long, slow pushes and pulls, the tip of my cock shuddering violently as I torture myself. It's sweet, but at the same time, the motion strains the last of the humanity out of me.

It doesn't take long before the shift comes and I start pushing in harder, faster. Pulling out with anticipation of the next push. It builds, so much quicker than I'd like to control, but that's what you are to me—the woman that makes me crave and lose centeredness at the same time.

My eyes are narrowed, hot daggers focused on your face. I'm just waiting for them to open now. They do not shift to your bouncing tits or deep breaths or parting lips. They just wait for your eyes to open. It's all I want now. And so it stops becoming about being in you, and becomes fucking. Long, full strokes into you that stop with a jolt so I can ram into you again and again.

And the moment your eyes open I'm ready and put my hand over your mouth.

I tell you to be quiet. That you belong to me. That you are mine and I'll do what I want with you. That I'm the biggest, baddest god damn monster you ever met and this what I'll take from you to keep the shadows at bay.

You moan into my hand, some mix of words and deep breath, eyes open wider as I start to rail in and out of you, growling and convulsing as I do. Long full slams into your sublimely wet pussy. I'm still doing it in my own rhythm, for me, so that there is a pause after every thrust. I want nothing more than to cum into you, fill you up with it, but I force the wait so I can take you, have you be mine, for just a few moments longer. 

When I get to the point that I can no longer stand it, that it feels like cum is going to burst out of me, I slow inside you, back to little slow strokes as I side my hand from your mouth and replace it with my lips, kissing into you so hard I feel just a hint of your teeth beneath them. It makes me growl, and I only notice when I'm done that it made me tighten my grip on your neck.

Say you're mine, I demand. And it's only when you comply that I loosen my grip.

I pull out of you with a growl, move away from your legsand flip you onto your stomach with a single, harsh turn of your hips. I slap your ass once and am on you before you can do anything but whelp. I shove your legs apart and press down into your back, then push into your pussy slowly.

I instruct you to say that you're mine with every single push. I fuck so you can keep the tempo as my hands slide up to your shoulders. I grip them and push into them all at once for the leverage I need enter at your favorite angle. 

I start pushing faster and faster until you can no longer keep up. I demand you continue saying it, even as your breath fails, even as it comes to quickly. I laugh when you fall behind, and I go faster, demanding it again. Say you're mine. Say you're mine. Say you're mine.

My left hand moves back to your neck as my right slides down to snake between the sheets and your skin to move to your pussy, and to reach up and stroke your clit.

You've given up saying anything now. Both of our worlds have become so small that they fit inside you.

My body presses against yours, molds to it, until we are as close as can be, my fingers tightening around your neck, rapidly sliding back and forth across your clit as I pound you from behind. Little hard strokes, not going anywhere near fully in or out, sacrificing everything for the speed as we both edge closer and closer.

I scream out your name, my face only inches from your ear as I push past my climax and get the final few strokes into you. And then I'm cumming and cumming before collapsing into your skin.

We lay there for a moment, my body on top of yours, heavy and dead, panting and breathing slowly. 

I pull out soft, wondering how long we've been there. Not long, since it's still dark out. I reach for you when I'm back on my side, and you come, pushing yourself, giggling a little, moaning a little, and probably still cross from being woken that way.

You pull into me easily, and I'm spooning you again, your slightly damp hair brushing against my chest, both of my arms tight around your torso. You put your hands atop them, grip them and whisper "My monster."

And I am nothing else before I fall back asleep.



Safe At Home



Home Alone

There was nothing worth watching on TV and every song in his iPod had been played re-played and shuffled a hundred times. Even surfing the web was boring tonight. Just then a spam ad popped up on the screen of his laptop that promised; 

Thousands of horny housewives performing live on their private web cams! Free!

"Free? Really? aw,what the hell!" CLICK!

The computer screen blinked, and he was whisked away to one of a thousand so called horny milf websites. He was told to sign in as a "guest" and he dutifully followed the instructions. It only took a minute, and shit, it was free after all. Clicking on page after page trying to find a nice looking lady who he could stand "performing on her private web cam" for more than thirty seconds was a real challenge, but finally he found one and clicked on the profile of a fine looking lady named "Stormy". 

"Dear lord," he thought, snickering under his breath, how long must it take for a stripper to come up with a stage name?"

"What the fuck." he thought. Tonight I'm with Stormy!" He clicked on her little pretend bedroom window and the pretend curtains opened. There she was, in shear red panties and bra, rubbing her obviously enhanced, way too perfect breasts. A text window popped up on his screen with a pre-written; 

"Hello!" blinking on it. "What can I do for you tonight?" The text window prompted. 

She was really cute too. A very tall thin brunette, ironing board flat stomach, long shapely legs . . . a real beauty. He figured her to be maybe around thirty-something. A real MILF! 

"Free? Well, there's nothing else to do tonight. Here goes!" he said to himself.

"Take off your bra!" was about all that sprang to mind, and though not very original, he figured it would be as good a place as any to start. 

"Love to!" she leaned over and tapped into the laptop keyboard lying on the night stand next to her bed. "That's easy!"

Her breasts were obviously bought and paid for, but he had to admit, they were fucking perfect.

He started wondering what else she'd do for free.

"By the way, what's you name?" She asked. 

"Bud" he typed back laughing at the ridiculous name he'd just invented for himself. What the hell. As long as the wife didn't get any "Welcome to our Website" emails from this place, he'd be fine. He could always say that he didn't know how they got this IP address and besides, he'd just tell her "There ain't no Bud here, so get off my back woman!" 

He was really cocky when he wasn't really talking to her. 

"Anything else Bud?" or are you done for the night?" More text suddenly appeared on his screen. 

"Shit, I don't know. Take your panties off and finger yourself!" he speed typed, feeling the excitement starting to grow inside him.

"Wow! This is incredible, this hottie is my sex slave for the night. This is great!" 

"I'll need your credit card number to do that Bud," she typed back. She got up from the bed and slowly walked closer to the web cam and started pulling down her panties. 

"I'll do any dirty little thing you ask honey. It's only Fifty Six ninety-five for each hour and I can go a long time with you Bud. Now what's that Credit card number baby?"

A sickening vision roared into his head. "Hey honey, what's this new charge on our card? And what's a milf?"

"Shit!" CLICK! and off went Stormy into the great unknown.

"Fuck!" he shouted out loud, "Another sure thing gone bad. Life just isn't fair sometimes. Now what?"

She was pretty fucking hot though. The image of that hot body was etched in his brain now as his mind wandered. What would it be like to really have a girl that looked like that? he wondered. 

The years had not been kind to him or his wife as far as looks go, but he tried his best to stay in shape, and could still get it up when he had to. His cock was a healthy and thick seven inches that didn't know it's actual age. 

His pretty wife had taken very good care of herself over the past sixteen years. She taught yoga for the over forty set, and still had a pretty firm little body. But after that many years. . . 

"Hey it's the same old meal on a different night ya know? A man needs variety!" as his buddies would say. 

And what a set of tits that Stormy had. Holy shit! 

"Man, I'd love to put my throbbing dick between those beauties and have her blow me."

He could easily imagine her slender fingers grabbing and pulling at his big dick, staring at it with her warm, wet mouth, open and panting, licking her lips, hungry to swallow every drop of cum he could shoot at her pretty face. 

His dick instantly reacted to the fantasy. One hand made it's way down to his crotch and slipped inside his pajamas. He started squeezing his half soft dick and stroking his balls until it started to swell. "Fuck it. I'll just get off right here, thinking about that little whore, and be done with it. Then I can grab a cold beer and watch the end of the game." 

A perfect night at home alone. Just him, a beautiful stripper, a can of beer, football, and a tissue full of cum.

The wife was out for the evening, and he always used this quiet time in the house alone to jack off. It wasn't often, but whenever the opportunity presented itself, he would head straight to the bedroom where he'd lay back with a handful of lotion and treat himself to a raging orgasm usually fueled by mental images of a hot neighbor or two, or one of the sexy blond newscasters he ogled every night. 

Their sex life together had gradually gone to shit, like so many long-time couples, but he still loved jacking off whenever possible. It was pretty much all he had left for a sex life.

But right now, he couldn't get the sight of those outrageously perfect breasts out of his mind.

"My god. . . what would sucking on something like those beauties feel like? Taste like? I'll bet she smells like fresh cut flowers." 

His hand was full of thick, hard cock by now, which he pulled out of the opening in the front of his PJs. Next, he undid the two well worn buttons, which never actually stayed closed by themselves anyway. "Oh yeah, that's it baby!" His fantasy girl was virtually stroking his big cock between her amazing tits, and he felt it get harder with every dirty word he said to her. His balls started to ache, and he considered going to the bedroom to shoot his load, but right now, right here, this felt really good. He couldn't move. His legs started to tighten. His polka dot jammies dropped completely to the floor as he reached down to hold his balls. 

His mind drifted away. "I'll bet she's an amazing blow job." Pulling down hard on the shaft of his now steel hard rod, he could feel that rush from deep inside his balls signaling that shooting his cum all over the face of his fantasy sex slave was just around the corner. His breathing got faster and louder, his hand working his cock like a jackhammer breaking up concrete. Stroking it faster and . . . 

CREEEEK!

The old hardwood floor just outside of the TV room suddenly made the unmistakable sound of someone stepping on the one squeaky board that he'd been meaning to fix for years. 

"Honey I'm home. We left early because. . ." his wife said, turning the corner slowly. Her voice sounded soft and almost apologetic for coming home earlier than expected, and she was about to continue her story. . . when she abruptly stopped and froze in place. Any other time, she might have turned and quietly slipped back into the kitchen, and the situation would never again be mentioned. But instead, this time, she just stood, mouth agape, and stared. She let her purse fall to the floor with a thud.

"Holy shit" he said, shocked out of his dream state, trying to hide what he'd been doing, but not hiding it very well. He hadn't even heard the screen door open, he was so lost in his fantasy.The silly look on his face clearly gave him away. He feared she may have heard all the dirty words he was muttering to Little Miss Sugar Tits. It was totally obvious what he'd been doing, since his hard dick was previously standing straight up in his hand, like the main mast on a schooner.

"What are you doing honey? She whispered with mock naiveté. "It looks like you've been having fun here without me!" She'd had a few glasses of wine at dinner with the girls from the office and staggering, just a little, was clearly feeling no pain.

"Oh! Hi! I'm sorry hun, I was um. . . you know. . .surfing the web and I um. . . sorta got turned on by some naked pictures, and ya know, I just got really horny and one thing kinda led to another and. . ." His voice trailed off.

"Oh don't apologize hon." she said, kicking off her heels, and slowly walking closer to where he was sitting. He quickly slammed his legs back together. 

His pajamas however were still at his ankles and the huge hard cock laying against his stomach completely gave him away. 

"My my," She smiled coyly, "What do we have here?" 

She came closer still, and he knew he was busted. It was over. 

She lightly touched his pulsing cock and whispered "May I help you with that?" Those were words he hadn't heard in a very long time. 

"No, that's OK hon, I just got a little carried away, I'm sorry." His voice became a childish whimper. 

She leaned over, just inches from his face, and supporting herself by gripping the arms of his chair, she whispered: 

"Then may I watch?" A wicked smile crept across her face. 

Those words were exactly the ones he wished he'd heard so many times from her. Many times over the years, he would quietly masturbate in their king size bed when he knew she was sound asleep. And he always fantasied that she'd suddenly wake up and want to watch him while he made himself cum. But the years past and it never once happened. So instead, he would just clean himself up, roll over and go to sleep. 

He liked showing off his massive cock at any opportunity through the years. In men's locker rooms where fat men with tiny dicks were in everyone's face, the nude beaches where naked bodies pranced about on sunny days with swinging dicks much smaller than his. Even getting out of the shower at home, he always hoped that she'd be watching and waiting in bed to see his prized possession. He'd step out into the bedroom still drying himself off very slowly and spending more time than actually necessary at his cock and balls.

But she was always sound asleep by then. 

He knew he was blessed with something special between his legs and he loved the chance to show it off. But SHE always had to have the lights off and the sheets pulled up to her neck! 

Therefore, he was truly shocked by her question, but figured that the wine had lowered her inhibitions tonight to the point where he might actually take advantage of this moment. "What a save!" he thought.

"Oh babe, I'd love it! He said. I mean if you'd really like to watch. Sit down here on the ottoman in front of me. Are you sure you don't mind? Because I'm getting really turned on at the thought of you watching me get myself off." 

"Actually darling, I've wanted to watch you do that for years," she said. But I always fall asleep too quickly, or you take too long to come up to bed, so I think I probably always miss it. And I'm just too embarrassed to ask you." 

"Wow. If I'd only known," he thought. I'm gonna have to keep the wine flowing around here!"

She sat down, a little tipsy, right in front of him on the black leather ottoman and watched him lean his head back into the big chair and close his eyes. The thought of her being right there, that close, watching his big strong construction worker's hand squeeze his cock, made his erection come back to life. He worked it slowly at first, lightly stroking the shaft from the base to the area just below the head. He'd do a few fast strokes then slowly pull it downwards to make it grow even bigger. He loved feeling it throb in his hand.

"Wow, he's so slow, he's actually teasing himself!" she thought. He would occasionally open his eyes to see her watching him intently as if she was sitting in the front row at a Sex Ed class. She loved the way he held it in his hand. Differently then the way she had done it for him during so many nights of routine married-people sex. He never once stroked it with a full-on death grip, like she had, but rather caressed and squeezed it with a lighter touch. 

She'd pushed and pulled on it for years in their bed, as if she was yanking carrots out of the ground. Not at all the way he was doing it now, to himself. He'd pulled her hand away more than once to make her stop, so she naturally thought she would never learn how to please him correctly. Tonight, she was the student.

Having lived the sheltered life of a good Catholic girl, she'd never been so close to a man pleasuring himself before, and it was starting to turn her on like crazy. She could feel her blood pressure climbing, her breathing quicken. Her limits were being pushed and falling like a house of cards. She started to sweat, and she felt a forgotten warmth stirring once again between her legs. She so wanted to turn around and sit on that beautiful hard cock as she had done a number of times before in bed (in the dark of course) but this time was very different. And she was loving it. 

His hand was pulling down on his cock making the skin so tight she thought it would split open. The lights were on and the fire was crackling in the enormous fireplace he'd built using field stones from around their little cabin here in the woods. No neighbors. No traffic. No lights. Just peace and quiet out here. Their vacation getaway. The curtains she'd made herself, were open just enough to hear the rustling trees outside. The kids had moved on and now It was just the two of them up here. Together. She secretly longed to get up and turn off the lights, but the heady buzz from the wine dulled that thought tonight. "Screw it." She thought. Besides, she wasn't sure she'd make it over to the light switch without falling over. Her head was spinning from a combination of red wine, and raw passion.

He reached down between his legs and rubbed his balls briefly and let out a quiet, satisfied groan. She watched closely as he sat way back and reached lower still, down to his ass, and stuck the tip of his finger inside himself. 

That was all she could stand. Her hand reached down and pulled up on the hem of her skirt. Yanking her soaking wet panties to one side, she found her steaming hot clit and started rubbing it in little circles. She felt wilder than ever. In full view of her man, nothing to hide, she wanted to just scream out with pleasure. She too leaned back and spread her legs open wide. Her free hand grabbed at her breast, squeezing it, pinching her nipple. Hard. Her mouth hung open, panting like a bitch in heat. 

Hearing her heavy breathing, he opened his eyes ever so slightly to glance over at her, and couldn't believe the sight. He'd never seen her like this in all their years together. This was a night to remember. Her finger slid deep inside her wet cunt, drawing out her slippery juice and vigorously started playing with herself right in front of him. Her mouth was wide open. Furiously rubbing her clit with her other hand, she was even shocked at herself, but she couldn't stop. She stared at his bulging cock and her mouth watered. They watched each other intently, breathlessly panting directly into each others faces. 

"Oh yes! Fuck! Don't stop now! Oh fuck yes!" She screamed. 

"Tell me when you're going to cum" she whispered, barely able to breath out the words. 

"I want to watch you cum! Right now! Cum for me baby! Show it to me! Give me that hot cum!" Her voice was slightly louder now, moaning every obscenity she'd ever learned, and he knew it would be soon for both of them. This new version of his loving wife was driving him out of his mind. He focused only on giving her exactly what she was begging him for. 

His balls really started to ache inside and he could feel the cum rising up, reaching that point, ready to explode out of that massive throbbing cock like a volcano spewing hot lava. He jerked off his swollen dripping cock faster than ever before. Harder. Faster. 

"Oh MY GOD!" He yelled out.

This was so much better than having cyber sex with Stormy! He thought. And besides, he wondered, how the fuck could he ever keep typing?

His orgasm kept getting closer, closer, and closer still. Sweat was beading up on his forehead. She noticed another glistening drop of, what she later found out, was called pre cum, dribble from his huge throbbing dick that he used as a lube to stroke it even faster. She saw that his massive cock was wet and shiny now from his own slippery fluid. He was right on the edge, at the point of no return. 

She too, rubbed herself faster and faster, following his lead. She jerked her head back and her hair flipped back over her head and down her back. Her fiery dark eyes were wide open and staring at his cock as never before, as if her gaze alone would make it shoot. Her legs started to shake uncontrollably. Her orgasm exploded as a loud scream came from the bottom of her soul. She grunted and bucked against her hand, fucking herself with two soaked fingers. Her entire body was shaking. He opened his eyes to see her sitting spread eagle, vaginal walls clamped tightly around her soaking wet fingers, eyes blazing at his throbbing, glistening cock. 

"Put it in your mouth! Now!" he shouted at her, and she immediately dropped to her knees in front of him. Spreading his knees out even farther, she buried his pulsing, cum-squirting cock as far back into her mouth as far as possible, and felt the warm, salty fluid she'd been waiting for, shoot down the back of her throat. She licked his dick up and down the slippery wet shaft while his cum continued to flow out from his big full balls, leaking out of her mouth, down his shaft, between her fingers and over her lips. He had to pull her away after being completely drained of every last drop, and fell back into the chair in a heap of man juice, saliva and sweat. She licked off every drop of the warm cum she'd let fall from her mouth onto his balls and pubic hairs, and swallowed the little bit that was left in her mouth. 

"He tastes so good." She thought. He'd often said that about her, but this was a first for her. She promised him, and herself, it would not be the last. 

He reached out and pulled her close to him and laid her head on his chest, damp with sweat. 

Still on her knees, her hands held his sticky, wet cock and balls between her two bare breasts. "Where the hell did my bra go anyway?" she wondered. 

She softly kissed his stomach, licking up whatever drops of his cum she found along the way. He stroked her hair, hoping they might fall asleep like this. It was Heaven on earth.

"That was incredible, she said. I'd love to watch you do that again, whenever you want. Just wake me up if I'm sleeping. OK? Please?" 

She looked up at him glassy eyed, and smiled. 

"You're amazing baby," he said, wiping a small drop of his cum from her chin. I've never seen you do that before. 

We've both learned a lot tonight huh? I guess you CAN teach old dogs new tricks!"

"We need to do this again. . . soon." She whispered.

Slowly drifting off to sleep, he whispered back: "Absolutely baby, whatever you want."

You know. . .life is good. He thought to himself.

And even better. . . when it's free!

The End



Safe from Harm



Caroline could feel their hands running all over her body. Three guys, three pairs of hands, each focusing on a different area of her body. 

Three college boys, as good looking as any she'd ever seen. They'd chatted her up at a bar while her friends looked on, and to make them jealous she decided to take off with all of them. It wasn't until they were in the car on the way back that she had found out their names: Peter, the soccer player, lithe and toned; John, the football player, built and strong; and Jason, the basketball player, muscular, but with soft hands. In the car they'd made small talk, while the sexual tension had built up around them. They were painfully shy, but Caroline had become used to it. Most were when they first met her; a 5. 8" brunette with shoulder length hair, 34CC breasts, and legs to die for. Back at Peter's house she had stood in the middle of the living room and said, "So are you guys going to touch me or not?"

"How about it boys? Do you all want to fuck me?" She looked at each of them with lust filled eyes. 

"Hell yeah!" they chimed in unison. "Well how about getting these clothes off me?" In a flash they were all over her, one ripping her shirt off, the other two pulling off her skirt. Her bra came off easily and her panties provided little resistance to the well muscled men that stood in front of her. 

"Now that's not fair boys. Here I am naked and you guys aren't even undressed. Now strip!" Moments later she admired their naked frames, and their sizeable cocks. "That's what I like to see. " Licking her lips she dropped to her knees in front of John, and planted her mouth right onto his cock. Reaching out she masturbated the others while she sucked and licked John's cock. She could feel each cock expanding, and she would stop sucking every now and then to talk to them, "Come on boys, do you like seeing me suck cock? Do you want to feel my mouth as well?" She decided to alternate between each cock, and before long all the boys were dying to cum in her mouth. 

But Caroline had other plans. She lay back onto the sofa, and invited them to do what they wanted. In a flash Jason had grabbed her legs, and thrust his cock into her soaking pussy, while the other two flanked her and massaged her breasts. Caroline grabbed the two free cocks and stroked them while Jason fucked her. "Come on Jason, yeah I love your cock in my wet pussy. Fuck me please, that's it, I want you to cum inside me, I want to feel your cum shooting inside me. Oooh that's it!" Jason moaned and grabbed her hips as he shouted out, "Oh yes!" and began to ejaculate inside her. She could feel the spunk shooting into her and she moaned out her first orgasm of the night. Jason was soon replaced by Peter, who decided that he felt like fucking her from behind. So Caroline got on her knees on the floor, spunk still dripping from her pussy, and let Jason grind his hips into hers from behind. John positioned himself in front of her, and she attacked his cock with gusto, vigourously bobbing her head up and down, letting his huge cock slip all the way into her throat. Soon she had built up a rythme, each thrust from Peter pushing John's cock into her throat. She would lift her lips from John every now and then to continue to talk dirty. Before long she heard Peter start to groan, so she started to caress John's balls. "Come on boys, I want you guys to cum all over me!" She quickly pulled away from them and lay down. "Cum on me!" She rubbed her pussy and played with her breasts as they masturbated over her, and it wasn't long before their cocks exploded, spraying over her face and her breasts while she moaned with her second orgasm of the night, "Yes, that's it, cum all over me uuh, I love being covered with cum. " 

"Thanks boys." The image dissolved in front of her. First the visor came off, then the body suit as she stripped off her work clothes. Then a shower to wash the smell off. Porn was boring, but it paid well, so she did it to make ends meet while trying to work her way up to bigger things. People were so predictable. She had done the cum slut routine so many times it was easy money. At least those college boys were good looking though. The worse was ugly old men drooling over her, while she had to watch and smile as if she was loving every minute of it. Very rarely she would get a guy that actually treated her like a real person, and she would exploit that to the full, sometimes even experiencing an orgasm herself. Absentmindedly her hands crept down to massage her clit. It had been a long time since she'd had real sex. Her other hand played with her nipples as she had a small orgasm in the shower. 

As she walked home a small feeling of despair came over her. Caroline had become a X-tress with dreams of becoming famous, but at the moment she was consigned to doing porn to make ends meet, like so many others in the trade. She knew she had talent, but how was she going to get recognised?

Many years ago a businessman by the name of Bill Gates had a brainstorm. Bill was a big man in the computer industry; having established his software as the major platfrom through a sense of business savvy and a little bit of talent. One day he got fed up with swimming through his money like Scrooge McDuck, and had decided to devote his time to a new project known as the X-box. You see, Bill had seen Sony rake in billions with a little grey box that people played games on. So why not make his own? Cleverly Bill decided to make his X-box a processing masterpiece that would display the best graphics ever seen. 

Soon after Bill Gates had made his pool of money a bit deeper. The X-box had delivered the most realistic gaming experience ever seen, and the punters were lapping it up. So Bill, wanting to build a new vault, decided that the only way to take this success further was to make it fully realistic. Ten years later the X-suit was born. A full body suit that was fully flexible and could completely replicate any experience (including sex). Thanks to the internet becoming a global network with unlimited transfer speeds, it became a doddle to set up simulations catering to all tastes. 

At first the simulations were simple, small scenarios, while people experimented. Before long companies were setting up interactive soap operas where 'you' decide what happens. Not long after that the porn companies had clicked. Soon there were many competing soaps where a few X-tors would gently push the story along while the punters did whatever they felt like within the scenario. The beauty of the setup was that people could watch what was happening without having to get into a suit and play. Eventually X-shows became the most popular on the web (TV having kicked the bucket a long time ago to make way for the global communications revolution), and anyone starring in these shows became a household name. 

After all that we come to the situation of Caroline. Caroline had entered the business three years ago, dreaming of fame, but only experiencing limited success. A couple of parts had fallen flat as studios axed bad ideas for soaps, and she had resorted to porn in desperation. Ironically she had become pretty well known for it, but she didn't want to be typecast as a porn X-tress for the rest of her life. Every night she wished for things to change, and this night was no different as she lay down in bed, and prayed for that big break. 

To Be Continued...