6 comments/ 11738 views/ 1 favorites Porn War By: sr71plt The song "Kisses Sweeter than Wine" sprang to my mind, because that was what his kisses were. As far as I could tell in the dimly lit Blue Moon resort hotel room in Las Vegas, he was a young hunk, no older than I was. Most of the men in the room were older, a few probably twice or more my age. None were complete throwaways, but he was prime among them. And he had latched on to me as soon as I'd entered the room, probably the last to arrive of eight or nine or twelve. It was that murky in the room. The rest of them already naked. Most of them already humping. We stood, rocking together against each other in instant high heat, and kissing—those sweeter-than-wine kisses—as he pulled my clothes off me. We all wore face masks, which, along with the dimness in the room, supposedly would make it difficult to identify each other during the meetings of the conclave the next day when we were clothed—but surely not impossible. He certainly couldn't hide his mop of blond hair or his magnificent build or his extra-long cock completely even in clothes in the light of day in a Las Vegas hotel meeting room. And if he touched or kissed me again, I'm sure I would know it was him. I could recognize Marty Doans without any trouble. Muscle solid, but a bit squat, nearly bald, and bordering on pudgy—and very, very hairy. I could identify him primarily, even with a face mask, because he obviously was holding court. I'd never seen him naked before, and although I'd heard about him having a super-thick cock, I couldn't see this now. He was sitting on the side of a bed, one of two queen beds in the room, with another man kneeling between his knees and servicing his cock. Which is why I couldn't see it. Two men were on the bed behind him, fucking, and Marty had a cigar in one hand and three or four fingers of his other hand up the ass of the man doing the fucking behind him. Marty was the organizer of the conclave and a big-name publisher of pornographic e-books. You got your books under his gay male imprint and you could quit your day job. My books were under his imprint, and I'd never had to have a day job. So, yes, I knew Marty, of all the guys in this room, even with the mask on. And I also knew the squirrelly little guy who came with Marty, Peter Knoles, who, though obviously wanting some of what others were getting, was nervously flitting around the room from coupling to coupling, but pulling back almost immediately because Marty wanted something or Peter was afraid Marty would want something and someone other than Peter would supply it. Last I saw of him on this night, he was standing at the wall trying to adjust the temperature because Marty complained about it being too hot in here. Of course it was hot in here with a dozen or so guys in high heat. I didn't know whose room this was. Probably either Marty's or Peter's. The invitation delivered under my door shortly after I checked in earlier that afternoon just said, "If you're really a player, and we're not talking cards, there will be more of this in Room 103 at 11:00 p.m." The invitation had included a fifty-dollar bill. The sweeter-than-wine hunk had me straddling him on the bed Marty wasn't using himself. The hunk was on his back, my knees were buried in his pits, and I was arched back, grabbing an ankle with one hand and his cock with my fist, while he sucked me and I slowly face-fucked him. He lifted my torso to vertical after a period of good moaning and servicing, raised my hips a bit more, and brought them forward so that his mouth and tongue could get to my asshole. The underside of my cock was thumping on his forehead and he was bringing me to a boil so fast I hoped I wasn't going to be leaving anything sticky in his wavy blond hair. He'd already asked me if I took cock or gave it, and my answer of "both, but more of the taking," had pleased him immensely. I knew then that I was going to be fucked by a long cock. In truth, from the atmosphere of the room, I knew I was going to be fucked by more than one. By Marty, for sure, if this was his party. He'd asked me for it before, in New York, but I'd never given it. I'd always managed to fend him off with a plausible excuse. I sure was going to be giving it tonight. Didn't matter to me tonight. I was walking along the edge on a vodka high already, and I didn't mind doing research for my books and being gifted with new plotlines. I went to arch my back again, but couldn't, because I realized that there was a chest behind me, a chest obviously sporting a studded leather harness. And two beefy, hairy arms encircling me, one holding me in place and the other possessing my cock, slick from the attentions of the sweeter-than-wine hunk. The new arrival had leather bands with studs on them on his wrists, and his arms were tattooed. The hard cock at the small of my back wasn't anything to sniff at. Between the hunk working my ass with his tongue and the leatherman working my cock with his fist, it wasn't long before I gave the hunk a facial. Sorry about the hair, I thought. A protein shampoo. My ejaculation signaled the leatherman to move me back and set me on the hunk's long, curved cock—it took an eternity for me to slide down that pole—and then he moved around to kneel over the hunk's face and receive attention for his own ass and for me to bend down and suck his cock. He didn't take that position for very long, though. He moved back to behind me, embraced me with one arm, and stuck a popper under my nose with his other hand. "Inhale this good," a growly voice whispered in my ear. "You're gonna want it. We're gonna go for a DP here." I moaned and inhaled. I kept right on inhaling—and moaning and groaning—as the leatherman slowly worked his cock in on top of the one the hunk already had buried inside me. The hunk held still with his while the leatherman began to slow pump me. They came almost simultaneously inside me. My world was spinning from the popper, so I didn't much care or feel very much pain. I did do a lot of groaning and grunting, though. I think I was only semiconscious, but I was awake enough to realize when the leatherman was pulling me off the hunk and carrying me over and setting me in Marty Doan's lap, facing him, and on what I found was a very thick cock indeed. I just let my shoulder blades fall back onto the tops of his feet and my arms dangle on the carpeting beside me, as Marty began pulling me on and off his cock. The leatherman knelt down and gave me another pull on the popper before sliding his cock down my throat. I woke I have no idea how much later to the flush of a toilet in the bathroom off the hotel room. The lights were off in the room, but a weak glow of sun was coming in from around the edges of the curtains on the windows and the light was on in the bathroom. The bathroom door was open. I saw a naked, fat, hairy rump standing in front of the toilet. I heard a second flush. No one else was in the room. My arms were pulled above my head, my wrists bound to the headboard with restraints. My legs also were spread and restrained at the ankles, with leather leads running down to the bottom corners of the bed. The leads on the legs weren't pulled tight. There were a couple of pillows under the small of my back, elevating my hips. And I saw a small collection of toys—dildos and beads—laying on the bed beside me. I had no idea if these had already been used or were waiting to be used. It all seemed familiar. I wondered if I'd written this scene before. My predecessor under my pen name, Brent, certainly had. As Marty walked out of the bathroom and toward me, he was adjusting a wide, studded leather band around the base of his cock. He also was stroking himself to an erection. "Hey, what're you doing?" I asked. "Wrong question," he muttered. "It should be what have we been doing? Good of you to join the party again. There for a while it was like fucking Raggedy Andy. Too bad you weren't more awake. The part of you that was was enjoying it." Without further ado, he hopped up on the bed, crouched in a half stand between my spread legs, and reached down and grasped my waist in strong hands. He pulled my pelvis up to his, shifting my weight onto my shoulder blades with my torso arcing down to the head of the bed. He thrust his thick, studded cock inside me and began to pump. Feeling no pain or even difficulty in taking his cock with added studs, I realized that my channel had been reamed well open, with no opportunity to tighten up again for however long I'd been in this room. Whatever. I turned my cheek to the side and moaned. He was fucking me good. I just wouldn't look directly at the gnome he appeared to be in this stance. He was fucking me really, really good, in fact. But the restraints and the toys had me a bit worried. "Um, Mr. Doans . . . Marty . . . just because I write gay male BDSM doesn't mean I practice it." "You do now," was his response. "Do you want me to stop?" "No, not particularly." "You need another shot of the poppers?" "Depends on what else you're planning on doing." "I'll take that as a yes. Before I do it, I'll give you another shot or two. You'll want it." At the front of my mind was the knowledge that Marty Doans could either make or break a gay male porn novelist. Before he untied me and sent me back to my room, with another $100 in my jeans pocket, to shower, breakfast, and show up at the conclave only an hour late, I discovered that, no, he hadn't used all of those toys already. * * * * Before facing the first session of the conclave, an annual meeting of gay male porn writers, held pretty much in secret wherever Marty Doans's Bent Stallions Publications made arrangements, I felt I needed a real drink. It wasn't that far from noon. I saddled up to the bar of Las Vegas' Blue Moon resort hotel, a gay guy's only place, and asked for a Bloody Mary double. I'd met Marty before, face to face, in his New York offices when my lover, Brent Davenport, the original Jasper of the Jasper rough sex novels fame, died and I had to establish that I had written Brent's last three manuscripts—his highest-return best-sellers—myself. But I'd never been to one of Marty's conclaves, although I'd been invited before. The main reason I'd never come was that Brent had been in a war of traded barbs with one of Doans's other best-selling authors, the gay male Romance novelist going by the pen name Niles James. The bitterness was such between them that, if they had ever met at a venue like this, the fur would fly. I had only come to this conclave because I had been asked to come as a paid speaker—and was assured that Niles James would not be attending. Once here, though, I saw his name on the attendees' list. Well, I would just have to do my best to avoid him. I had half a notion to take off my "Jasper" name tag and go in as someone else—but I was a paid speaker in that name, so I guess I'd just have to find out who the old codger was—he had to be old if he was a contemporary of Brent's—and stay clear of him. When I went to put the Bloody Mary on my room tab, the bartender checked his computer and said, "Your account has been linked to the Room 103 account, Mr. Jasper. You may just cite that room for charges from now on." Marty, I thought. This was beginning to look like a setup, like I was lured here for Marty to use. He'd made clear before that he wanted me, and I'd only barely been able to outrun him—until now, well, until last night, of course. I'd thought that last night would do it for him, but now he was slowly owning me. I downed the Bloody Mary, ordered another one, and, that one in hand, soared into the meeting room. A panel session on the difference between erotica and porn—an argument I had no time for; what I wrote was what I wrote—was in full cry. I took a seat toward the back and looked around. There were maybe seventy people there. I wasn't a bit surprised to see that well more than half of them were women. Brent had had a major burr under his saddle about the false genre of women writing "just pretend" or "how we'd like to fantasize our man" stories read mostly by other women. I had come to share his disdain for this quite large share of the gay male porn market, but like him, not too vocally because many women buying and reading that fake stuff were also buying ours, even though we thought of ourselves as writing for the actually actively gay male. Over half of the men present were well into their fifties and sixties. Although I felt a bit sorry for them writing what most of them weren't actively engaged in now, I respected that most of them—probably all who dared come to a conclave such as this—had once been active and were now writing from memories they wished to remain captured and arousing them for as long as possible. Only a few of the men present were young, as I was, or not much beyond forty, and probably writing from active experience. Not that I could say that much of what I wrote was from active experience myself—or was before Marty started taking me under his jaded wing the previous night. I had enough gay sex, just not that much that could be classified as BDSM. I now certainly could write BDSM stories better, the specialty Brent had known best and written most—with the knowledge of experience. At least light BDSM. I was willing to bet that it was from this core group of younger men here that Marty had chosen his invitation list for last evening's party in his hotel room. And I wondered if more active and intimate sessions were in store during the three-day event. I wouldn't be surprised if they were the only reason Marty even held these conclaves. I scanned the room several times, trying to pick out who Niles James might be. I couldn't very well avoid him if I couldn't identify him. At the next break I asked the older man I'd been sitting beside if he knew who Niles James was and could point him out to me. He did and could and pointed over to where a pudgy cross between Orson Wells and Truman Capote older man was talking with a well-built young blond guy. "That's him," the man said. "Writes great Romances. The best-selling author in the Bent Stallions stable." I bristled at that claim, but I remained polite. I had marked James's looks so that I'd remember to stay away from him, but my attention had already gone to the young blond he was talking to. I was sure just from watching him move and assessing his build that he was the sweeter-than-wine lover I had started with last night—and would have been more than pleased to continue with. Now him I would make no effort at all to stay away from. I turned to ask the man if he knew who the blond was, but he was gone, and Marty was bearing down on me. I was to have the privilege of lunching at his table, at which he had gathered a bevy of twittering women authors of gay male Romance. It was not lost on me that Marty was introducing me to many disparate forms of sadism. * * * * The porn war between Jasper—as initiated by Brent Davenport—and Niles James was of the most bitter sort. It was born from a love-hate relationship. Brent and Niles had been lovers. They met as writers, with Brent writing mainstream sci-fi short stories for a pulp magazine and Niles already writing his gay male Romances for another publication of the same pulp magazine conglomerate. This, of course, was light years before the advent of the computer, let alone the e-book, which had caused the porn novel industry to burgeon because a buyer didn't have to worry about what to do with the book after he'd read it—or that much while we was reading it. Although Niles wrote Romances, he practiced BDSM and introduced Brent to the practice before Brent ever thought of writing that genre. It was Marty Doans, a young BDSM adherent of Niles's, who both encouraged Brent to switch to writing gay male BDSM for his startup Bent Stallions publishing effort and came between Brent and Niles sexually. And it was Marty who tore Brent away from Niles and who egged on the two in competition with each other as writers and who, gleefully, started and nurtured the porn war between the two. He touted and promoted them both as "the" best-seller in his stable and encouraged and exaggerated the professional animosity between the two. It didn't take the two long to buy into the hype themselves. This manufactured animosity was a palpable source of energy in this conclave, I clearly could see from the first session I attended. Nearly every side conversation I heard concerned the porn war between Marty's two standards and the fact that this was the first time that anyone had seen both Jasper and Niles James on the list of speakers. That neither name was applied yet in the schedule of sessions and the key concluding session time slot was not filled in yet only added fuel to the fire of anticipation. If this was Marty's doing, I'd have to give him props as a consummate showman. Even I didn't know for sure what session I was to be impaneled on. The invitation to speak had suggested that I talk about the rules of BDSM in writing, which I found to be laughable. There were no definitive rules for BDSM in either doing it or writing about it, I believed, after having picked up writing it upon Brent's demise. There were, of course, clubs of it with rules of their own, but I had found that there was a whole range of application of the genre in both practice and stories and that a varying readership could be counted on for falling into this range. My own BDSM writing thus far had been a toned-down version of Brent's and more heavily geared to bondage and milder toys and full enjoyment by all concerned. I would be the first to admit that I had little personal experience in the heavier BDSM arena and would be writing Romance myself—which only added to my resentment of Niles James dominating that aspect of the gay male market—if given the choice. I did enjoy a rough kind of sex, though, and I had been taking Jasper's work more in that direction. The fans of Jasper hadn't seemed to be complaining about that, at least yet—that I knew of. Brent had not practiced BDSM techniques with me—well, beyond some of the tying up practices. By the time we met, he had softened and was actually quite romantic with me in our love-making. I had accepted the invitation and the topic and had proceeded to put together a talk on the various techniques, equipment, and toys of BDSM in the gay male world and on how they could be—were being in Jasper's writings—applied to pornographic writing. I would just ignore the word "rules" altogether unless it came up in the question period. And if it did, I knew there would be a knock-down-drag-out fight in the room no matter what I said I believed about it. As we went into the afternoon session, still without a topic for that last session or a mention of either me or Niles James as session speakers, I became increasingly convinced that I had been given a fake topic and wouldn't be speaking on the rules of BDSM at all, but rather would be paired with Niles in some sort of cat fight to conclude the conclave. In this I was proved to be quite right. My eyes kept going to the puckered-lipped, obviously self-satisfied pile of blubber who had been identified to me as Niles James and who sat simpering in the front row of the other section of chairs in the meeting room in the middle of a harem of equally simpering female writers. And as my eyes bored into him, I was aware that others were looking at me too, apparently having zeroed in on my "Jasper" nametag and already in delicious anticipation of what Marty obviously was planning. When I couldn't take any more of this, I rose and slipped out of the room—I had sat as far back as I could find a seat—and went to the hotel reception desk. "Is there an appropriate bar I can go to around here?" I asked. "Not in this hotel." I already was taking my name tag off as I asked. I wanted to be away from all of this for a while. Porn with Sue It was some years ago and I had been left on my own yet again and was upstairs surfing the net on my new computer. Like most novice internet users of that time I had spent several hours visiting all sorts of sites but, having heard lots about the porn that was supposed to be available, I was curious. It was not that I'm a pervert, but rather one of life's inquisitive people, so I had been visiting some of the many free porn sites available. However, with only a few days experience I was completely lost on the internet and blundered about not yet fully aware of what I was doing. I had been clicking eagerly and images were filling the screen of my PC faster than I could control them. One thing was sure - they were much more explicit than any other material I had seen before. Eventually, with perseverance, I managed to isolate several quality images and save them, but as one high definition porn picture followed another I became aroused and was rubbing myself to relieve the sexual pressure when the doorbell rang downstairs. I switched the monitor off and went to answer it. "Hi John, is Wendy in?" It was Sue, a friend of my wife's who often popped round unannounced. "I'm sorry, Sue, she's out at one of those parties - you know perfume or something." I replied," but I'll make you a coffee if you like." I knew that Sue's husband worked nights and that when Sue came to see my wife it was to pass away an hour or two exchanging gossip until his return. "Oh, all right then," she said and came into the house. I switched on the kettle and filled the coffee cups with their ingredients as Sue chatted. "So what do you do when Wendy is out then?" she asked mischievously. I put on my most matter-of-fact voice and answered. "Actually, I was upstairs surfing the internet. I have just got a new PC that's a lot faster than my old one so I can do it properly now," "Oh Yeh, looking at all those sex sites were you?" Her tone was a mixture of curiosity and sarcasm. "Sure," I said in a disclaiming way hoping to deflect this bulls-eye guess. She perked up and continued, looking me directly in the eye, "Oh really. They say that it is easy to see all sorts of things on the internet. Is that right?" "Well I suppose it is." "So you have looked have you?" she was enjoying goading me and was smirking devilishly. "What sort of things are there, I've often wondered?" she asked guardedly. "You know, this and that," I responded sheepishly. She was obviously curious but I wasn't sure that I was prepared to be too frank. However, in a bold move I decided that I would bite the bullet and asked, or rather challenged her, "Come and see for yourself if you want to." I expected this offer to put her off but that was not to be. Her curiosity was as bad as mine had been. "OK," she replied and sprang from her chair, coffee cup in hand, with such enthusiasm that I was taken aback. I led her upstairs to my study and sat her down in my swivel chair in front of the dead screen. "Are you sure, Sue, I mean, it is porn you know?" "I know, I know, switch it on." She ordered impatiently. I switched on the monitor and up came the last image that I had been looking at. It was that of a very large penis entering a nicely engorged vagina from the rear. "Christ!" exclaimed Sue, "I see what you mean." She looked more closely and then turned to me and asked eagerly. "Are there any more pictures?" Having inserted the best images that I had found in a Powerpoint file, I opened it and let her click her way through the dozen or so in the sequence. The first showed a blonde girl taking most of the penis of a healthy young man in her mouth and this was followed by a close-up of a couple copulating missionary style. The rest were a series of interesting sex acts occurring between men and women. As my own preference was for straight heterosexual sex they did not include other proclivities. The images that flicked through were clearly affecting Sue and she writhed slowly in her seat as she watched. Towards the end of the sequence she was actually rubbing her own breast, albeit surreptitiously. I stood behind her and felt my own excitement rising, partly due to the images on the screen, but principally because I was in close proximity to a women who was clearly becoming aroused by what she was watching. "Do you want to see them again?" I asked when they finished and she nodded her accent. I lean across her and pressed the appropriate keys to start the sequence again. Part way through the second sequence Sue, by then oblivious to my presence, began rubbing her groin through her skirt and was only brought back to reality by my asking quietly, "Does it excite you, Sue?" because it was certainly affecting me. "Um," was all she could say as she gazed fixedly at the screen before her. It was a statement of fact to say that Sue had the most wonderful 'full' breasts and as I stood behind her I watched them rise and fall with her ever deepening breathes. I watched their erect and protruding nipples stretch her thin cotton blouse as they filled and tightened. I needed to touch them and, from the state she was in, she needed me to touch them. So I did. Standing behind her chair I laid my right hand gently on her right breast and waited, I needed a signal to proceed. The signal came. She laid a hand on mine, pressed and began to force my hand into a circular kneading motion. I required no more encouragement and, before long, had encompassed both her breasts with my two hands and was squeezing, kneading and rolling both erect nipples between my grateful fingers. She leaned back and closed her eyes as her arousal increased. After several minutes of this I started to slowly unbutton her blouse, one at a time, until it lay open to her waist. Her bra was a front opening type and I flicked the catch to release her glorious straining globes of cream flesh, then gathered them up in each in my hands to fondle their warm softness. Desperate to feel them in my mouth, I spun the chair around to bring Sue and I face to face. She smiled as I knelt in front of her and buried my head in her copious bosom before taking mouthfuls of her succulent breasts. I tongued and squeezed her nipples between my lips, then sucked one breast at a time into my mouth until it was filled completely and left me gasping for air. While I concentrating my attention on Sue's wonderful generous upper features I became aware of her, now shoeless, foot as it began to rub against my bulging groin, gently but purposely. I looked up into her face and she grinned, raised an eyebrow and pressed her foot more firmly against my throbbing erection. I continued devouring her breasts but, positioned as I was, between her legs, I allowed my hands to fall onto her outer thighs just above her knees. I moved them forwards beneath her loose skirt, letting them travel higher up her nylon-clad thigh until I reached her stocking tops. "Stocking tops!" - I thought all my birthdays had arrived together. The course nylon material of her stockings gave way to little more than an inch of cool smooth skin that I allowed my hand to caress and explore for several minutes. As a teenager, I had only just started to enjoy the pleasure at the top of stocking covered legs when the devil invented tights and the world changed forever. With palms outstretched, I stroked the conjunction of her legs, letting my thumbs trace the line of her groin, both inside and outside of her panties. Her legs parted more on each pass of my hands as her vulva engorged with desire. Eventually, I had to lift each of her legs onto the arm of the chair to allow full access to her moist and secret place. She was demonstrably excited, her panties were darkly stained with the dew of her lust and the outline of her engorged sex was visible through the thin material. I placed an outstretched hand on her mons, to push with its heel, up between her legs, and squeeze. She groaned and opened her legs even more widely. My mouth abandoned her breasts and came down between her legs. The damp scent of musk filled my nostrils as I gnawed at her cotton covered genitals. She made the next move. She pushed my head away and stood up, to slip her panties deftly down her legs. Once removed she resumed her previous, overtly lewd, position with her far-flung legs allowing me full access to an exquisitely pouting vulva, framed with dark curly pubic hair. I viewed it longingly, then bent to give it the attention it deserved. It was like a ripe pink fig with a cheeky little tongue of a clitoris just poking out. I licked the outer lips, first upwards towards the peeing hole then downwards towards her sepia rosebud. I did this again and again then stiffened my tongue and explored deeper inside. I attacked her clitoris, hiding under its fold of skin and sucked it savagely. She squirmed and gave a gasp, pushing herself into my face. I knew I was connecting when I felt her hands pulling my head harder into her pussy. I sucked and stabbed with my tongue for many minutes until I felt her tremble, pull my head even more tightly into her pussy and then relax. She had cum, no torrent of juices, but in warm relaxing spasms that left her temporarily spent. As her euphoria subsided she lifted my face with hands placed on each of my cheeks and kissed me. Then she cradled my head in her bosom where I lay for some time waiting for her to recover. I could have stayed like that all night but when I thought her recuperation was complete I began to push my still straining penis forward and started to rub it up and down the wet soft folds of her glowing pussy. If I had been frustrated before this action certainly made me more so. My poor rod was getting more excited knowing that it was only the thickness of my denim jeans away from a glorious treat. After several dry strokes she reached down between us and grasped my penis firmly and squeezed it hard, then she undid my belt and slipped down my zip fastener. Fixing me with her eyes she reached inside my briefs and smiled cheekily as she extended her fingers around my rigid manhood and squeezed. It pulsed with anticipation and I scrambled to divest myself of both my jeans and briefs. When she regained her hold of me it was with a lighter and more tentative grip. Nonetheless, the effect, as she moved her partly clenched hand up and down my shaft was exquisite and I gazed into her face to watch her tongue moisten her lips in some unsaid promise. Eventually she released me and slipped out of the chair and knelt in front of me so that my penis was only millimetres from her face. She placed her hands behind her and leaned forward to rub her face against the gnarled under-surface of my jutting prick - first with her cheek and finally with her full face with its tongue extended. Up and down my length she licked for a good thirty seconds and then took the pre-cum-smeared head fully into her mouth and sucked enthusiastically, her cheeks hollowing with the effort. As she fellated me she continued to hold my gaze, judging the effect she was having on me from the expression on my face. She held my ball sac with the fingers of one hand and traced the ridge of my urethra with a fingernail of the other hand - endlessly testing for my pleasure points. "Is this OK for a first effort?" she asked between sucks, but she could already feel my response in balls that ached to discharge their milky payload. "If this is the first cock you've sucked then put me down for the next one, will you." "I haven't finished with it yet," she laughed getting to her feet. "I need to have that inside me - now. How do you want to have me? This way?" she turned away from me, knowing instinctively my preference and placed her feet wide apart, bent forward across the chair and flicked her skirt up over her lower back. Sue had the most glorious arse, two huge rounded hillocks of pink flesh leaned against each other like two drunks. Below this vision her pussy hung like a miniature version of her arse cheeks. It glistened with anticipation and she reached back and rubbed her hand along it, separating its lips for entry and coating them with her, now copiously flowing juices. I reached forward eagerly and rubbed it with the side of my hand, slipping my thumb in and out of her as I did. She responded by moving with my hand and moistening herself even more. Her breathing betrayed that, after only a few caresses, she was aroused again and her pussy lips closed around my fingers. Her legs moved even further apart as her vulva grew too big for the space provided between them. I judged the time to be right to enter her and placed the head of my penis just inside her swollen lips where I rubbed it along their length. They opened like a Venus FlyTrap and attempted to suck me in. I pushed hard and was, immediately, sucked fully inside her to be encased in wet velvet with my tangled pubic hair rubbing up against her pale lower cheeks. She gasped as I entered and pushed back towards me whereupon I withdrew and pushed forward again. After establishing a comfortable position I reached forward and held on to her slightly below her waist and started to develop a rhythm. God she was wet! God she was tight! It seemed that, on every withdrawal, she milked me like she was squeezing the very last of the toothpaste out of the tube until, finally, the pressure built to bursting point and my balls tightened. "God...I'm...going... to... cum, Sue," I gasped and with this, she pushed even more forcibly backwards and clamped my penis with her vice-like vaginal muscles. I came. It was instant, my legs went weak and my penis seemed to pulse for ages until I made one last gigantic thrust and stood, pumping sperm deep into her body. My ears buzzed with pleasure. Eventually the throbbing stopped and my rigid stem softened as I became overwhelmed with the usual sense of post orgasmic well being. Sue moved forward and my flacid penis came out of her with a slurp and hung, shining, between my legs. She turned and planted a long and lustful wet kiss full on my mouth. " Do you know, John, that is the first time in my life that I've done it doggy style, and I found it a real turn on. It was only the pictures which made me do that." "I'm glad you did, Wendy doesn't like doing it that way." "Any more 'firsts'?" I enquired. "Such as?" she replied. "Well, you do have a tighter hole." "You naughty bugger," she laughed and added, "You will need a stiffer cock than that to get in there," pointing to the now, lifeless organ hanging in front of me. "Well that's down to you if you are willing to try." She grinned and reached out to cup my entire penis and balls in her hand. She squeezed and pulled at them before realising that I needed some visual stimulation. She lay back in the chair, hooked her legs over the arm of the chair once again and pulled up her skirt to reveal that glorious cum covered pussy. She then stroked it, opening its lips and slipping fingers in and out of it giving me one of her most sluttish looks as she did. My eyes, however, were not looking into hers, they were watching her fingers and, despite it being only minutes since I came, my penis started to rise again. When it had regained its earlier glory she said, "There, that wasn't so difficult was it?" She got out of the chair and stood before me, then, grabbing me tightly, she whispered, "It's a first time for both of us - so be gentle." "We are going to need some lubrication," I whispered back, "Just wait a minute" The master bedroom was next door and I ran through to collect a jar of cream and as I did my eager prick was swinging enthusiastically before me. When I returned Sue was stretched out forwards, seductively, across my desk. She was an ample woman with a wonderful skin texture and her buttocks separated as she leaned across the desk to reveal again that marvellous pussy, hanging low and open beneath her. I coated my fingers with the cream and, moving forward, rubbed it down her rear crevasse and into her little brown ring, reaming this opening with a circular motion of my fingers. She exhaled sharply as I did this. God, her virgin hole was tight, but her little brown star slowly relaxed around my finger as I explored. Within a short time I was able to get two fingers inside until it seemed big enough to take my cock. I then slipped my, now straining cock into her amply lubricated vagina and pumped it in and out a few times. When her breathing started to come in gasps, announcing her arousal, I withdrew it and offered his head to her anus. Despite my fingering, it was now closed, tight shut so I had to push and keep pushing until the muscles at its entrance relaxed and the head disappeared inside. I then felt her anal ring contract around it, but I pushed again and made further inroads. By withdrawing partially and thrusting in again I made more progress and I repeated this until my entire cock was engulfed. I stopped and waited and she squealed, "Christ, John, that hurts." "Do you want me to stop?" I asked, concerned that I would injure her. "Not on your life," she answered," Keep going." I reached around her and slipped a fingertip through her hairy mound to rub her clitoris before beginning a steady thrusting rhythm into her cream slicked rear passage. With the combination of my fingering her clitoris and her tight grasp of my dick, we both lasted no time at all. "I'm cumming Sue. Are you there yet?" I grunted "Umm," she answered and pushed back against me. I increased the speed of my thrusting to almost manic levels and then came, exploding with a tremendous organism. My dick went soft immediately and removed itself from her anus with an audible plop which then remained twitching from the effects of the intrusion. She remained in the same position for ages with me draped over her back, breathing in shallow gasps, before I stood up and asked, "Are you alright, Sue?". She looked round, " I have to tell you, John, that if someone had asked me what I felt about anal sex I would have answered, Yuk.! but it was incredible." I became philosophical, "You know, Sue, I have been having sex in the missionary position for twenty years, not daring even to suggest something different for fear of being seen as a pervert and here I am - having a blow job, fucking doggy style and having anal sex, all in one night. You are certainly an enlightened women." "It's the same for me," she replied. "I've laid in bed when Mike was asleep with my hand between my legs fantasising about the things we have done tonight but not wanting to seem like a whore to Mike." "Someone once said that a wife must be a chef in the kitchen, a lady in the drawing room and a whore in the bedroom." I guess they were right. "I will have to be your whore then." She kissed me and recovered her clothing. "How about another coffee – that one has gone cold." I said, pointing to the untouched coffee I made earlier. Porn with Sue "Actually John, I've come for shag, if you're up for it," was her honest answer, "Can you get some glasses." Smiling to myself, I complied, passing one of the two I collected from the cabinet, to her. She accepted the glass and then said rather coyly, " God, I feel awful for saying that. I have been practising being brazen all the way here but when I said that it made me cringe, but I had to see you." I sat beside her and put my arm around her and said softly in her ear. "Look Sue, if you are coming here because you feel something emotional then it's probably best that you go now because I love my wife and would not do anything to hurt her, but if it's purely lust then I'm all for a night of it - how long have you got?" "Oh, it is only lust, I promise you." She planted a soft kiss on my lips and fondled my crotch, "And I've got all night since Mike has gone to his parents for the weekend. His Mum's not too well" I had been on my own, the fire glowed in the grate and the room was bathed in the dimmed light from two small table lamps - an ideal setting for a night of lust! I left the room and locked the outside doors. When I returned to the lounge Sue had settled on a large cushion in front of the fire, had opened the wine and was pouring some of it into two glasses. I took mine when offered and lay beside her next to the fire. She snuggled up to me and whispered in my ear, " I've got another surprise that knocks your porno computer pics into a cocked hat." She pulled a videocassette from her bag and handed it to me. "Put this on," she commanded, "and let's get comfortable." The TV was playing an old film, which I had muted when the doorbell rang, so I put in the tape, selected the video channel and pressed 'play' before rejoining Sue on the cushioned floor. The tape had been set to the beginning of the film and, by the time we had snuggled down together, the titles were rolling. 'WHEN LARRY MET SANDIE' starring several unknowns began to roll. I must confess that most of the hard core porno videos that I have seen have been in hotel rooms during travels to Germany, Canada and Holland and were of a quality that varied tremendously, but the quality of this tape was good. I was intrigued. "Where did you get this from, Sue?" "One of the women at work brought it in - it's her husbands'." The plot, such as it was, involved a man and a women spending a weekend in a hotel away from their respective partners trying to 'come to terms' with their respective relationships and then meeting each other on a walk by the moonlit lake. A conversation lead to a kiss which lead to a fondle, which lead to the rest of the film. Apparently, many of their 'problems' conveniently revolved around their respective desires for a more imaginative and active sex life and so they began to explore each other's fantasies. Unlike many of the porn videos that I have seen before, where the participants no sooner express their intentions than they are naked and rutting, this video explored the tentative and more erotic first stages of mutual satisfaction. The camera lingered on his hand as it unbuttoned her blouse, and uncovered her generous breasts. He caressed them for several minutes before, slowly, sliding his fingers beneath the fabric of her skirt and along her inner thigh to a dampened patch of silk between her legs. She rubbed her palm against the bulge in his trousers and it grew impressively as a result. Needless to say, I was getting aroused and cupped Sue's breast with the hand that encircled her neck, gently squeezing its firmness. Her hand moved to the bulge in my crotch, which she began to rub, imitating the woman in the film - not hard, but in a way that I could endure for only a few days. We lay together, gently raising each other's excitement as the action developed on the small screen. They removed each other's clothes - one tantalising item at a time until we were looking at two very well endowed people and, by the time they were naked, their mutual stimulation had increased from the playful to the purposeful. By this time, I had completely undone Sue's top and had thoroughly excited her breasts leaving her nipples hard and protruding as I began to concentrate my attention further down. She, in turn, had unbuttoned my jeans and was stroking a very powerful erection through my shorts. "Let's pause this," I suggested, pressing the appropriate button without waiting for a reply. I rolled onto my side and kissed her, driving my tongue deep into her mouth and fondling her tongue for several minutes whilst kneading her wonderfully large breasts. I kissed her neck as I whispered how glorious her breasts were and how I had dreamed of them and what I wanted to do with them. I rose to my feet and towered over her body having discarded my shirt and socks and slowly removed my jeans and shorts. She reclined like a Greek Goddess, with her clothing dishevelled and smiled as I took my extended penis in both hands and stroked it. I was going to do what I had dreamed of doing since our first encounter. Leaning over her, I opened her blouse completely and removed the bra I had pushed up out of the way to fully expose those gorgeously large orbs and, in one quick movement, I straddled her waist. Her face wore a quizzical look as I shuffled up her torso to position myself so that, by pressing down on my penis I could lay it between her glorious breasts. By now, she knew what was wanted and propped herself up into a half sitting position with her back against a cushion. Her ample breasts hung heavily and she pushed each mound of her firm flesh together to trap my straining length in a warm tunnel of flesh. She held each of her nipples against the rough sides of my cock with a finger of each hand so that she would also be stimulated as I thrust up and down between them. By leaning her head forward and extending her tongue, she was able to lick my fleshy end as I pushed it forward and upwards in the soft cavern that we had created. I started slowly, savouring this feeling, new to me - a feeling only given to men by the well-endowed woman. Nature, and its demands, accelerated my actions until I was thrusting rapidly, striving to release the pressure building up in my groin. I was being selfish knowing that this action gives much less pleasure to the woman than to the man, but I continued nonetheless until I burst forth, covering her white neck and lower face with pearls of white semen. Thus drained, I collapsed onto her comfortable body for several minutes before rolling off to enjoy the afterglow of my orgasm. "I hope James T will be ready for duty again soon," Sue whispered in my ear. I didn't understand, "James T?" "James T. Kirk - goes where no man has gone before." She laugh at her own joke, I grimaced and poured each of us another glass of wine. As we lay together and sipped our wine I asked, "Tell me, Sue, when you fantasise, do you fantasise about romantic sex or hot and dirty sex?" She considered for a moment then replied, "Well, I suppose, when it's with you it is dirty things - things I have never done before. Just like you just did, really." "So what else do you fantasise about?" As I spoke I had picked up the half empty bottle of wine, topped up our glasses and was waving the bottle absentmindedly in the air. I placed the mouth of the bottle against Sue's neck and drew circles with it on her chest. She jumped involuntary saying, "that's cold." I smiled but it had encouraged me to continue and I drew the cool bottle lip down between her breasts to her flat smooth stomach. She wriggled, sucking in her tummy as it tickled her and I moved it even lower until it rested on her curly mound where I rubbed it slowly up and down her front crevice. She grinned at me and moved her legs apart allowing me to trawl her feminine slit with the cool glass of the bottle lip. Her cunt lips were fully engorged and embraced the narrow neck of the bottle as it slipped between them. I slipped it several inches inside until her cunt was stretched to the same extent as if my erect cock was in her. She was wet and, as I withdrew the bottle, the glass glistened with her moisture. Not wanting to loose the feeling of being filled, she pushed down onto it again to engulf the glass and I began to fuck her with the bottle whilst squeezing and pulling her generous clitoris as it emerged from its hiding place. I was careful not to insert the bottle too deeply and stretch her pussy lips too widely as I wanted a tight pussy when my turn came to fill her. I leant forward and licked her erect clitoris, passing my tongue across its heat to the coolness of the bottle and back again. She came quickly despite the smooth surface of the bottle and lurched upward engaging more of herself onto the bottle before collapsing, replete, onto her cushion. I removed the bottle and deliberately took a swig of the wine, tasting the intermingling of her juices with those of the grape. She feigned a grimace and dug me in the ribs. I responded by pouring half a glassful of the pale liquid into her navel where it flowed downwards between her legs. I tried to recover it and ended up with my tongue half buried inside her vagina and lapping furiously. Her interest recovered. She started writhing beneath me, spreading her legs and, by holding the back of my head, forced my face into her pussy. I gnawed at her sentinel and it extended even more. She has the biggest clitoris that I can remember seeing and it seemed to glow red, like the ember of a fire in the dark bush between her legs. Putting the bottle down, I crawled between her outstretched legs and took her large white buttocks in my hands so that I could lift her clear of the cushion. She placed her legs over my shoulders and enveloped my face in her sopping, wine and love-juice wetted crotch, which I began to devour once more. This time I was less tender, I gnawed at her labia and clitoris and sank as much of my tongue into her as I could manage. She writhed and rolled against me, making sure that every part of her received the attention it needed until she stiffened, her back arched and she clenched my face between her formidable thighs for the ten or so seconds it took her orgasm to peak and subside. We lay back cuddling up together and re-started the video. The naked couple kissed tenderly before she took the initiative and dropped to her knees before him. She clutched his manifold penis with two hands like a pop star with a microphone and then began to bestow her undivided attention. She licked it from root to stem and then took his bulbous head into her mouth and sucked mightily as her concave cheeks bore witness. She repositioned herself and took half and then the whole of him into her mouth. Sue had been fondling my own pulsating rod as we watched and had slid down until her head was resting on my stomach with my cock only inches away from her lips. "How does she do that?" she asked. "What? Deep-throating him?" "Yes!" she answered and leaned forward to take my rigid inches into her own mouth while keeping her eyes glued to the screen. She copied the actress in the film, sucking and licking me until I felt my cock tip touch the entrance to her throat. She gagged. I held still, not wishing to force her into something she did not want to do. But she was determined to succeed, swallowed and pushed her head further onto my cock. There was a gurgling noise as I felt my cock head pass into her throat and beyond until her lips made contact with my pubic hair. The feeling was incredible. She had taken my entire cock length deep into her throat and was now moving her head up and down the shaft, randomly grazing its sides with partly closed teeth. I could have cum there and then but, fearing that I would suffocate her, I pulled her off me. She looked up at me with a radiant look of triumph on her face. "Fantastic!" was all I could say. While I was having my entire insides sucked out through the tube in my dick, 'Heather' - the female lead in the video had succeed in relieving 'Paul' - the male lead - of the next generation of 'Pauls' and was wiping a few remnants from around her mouth. Sue swallowed my dick again, throwing her leg over me in a 69 position and presented her slippery credentials to within inches of my face. I splayed her pussy lips apart and blew cool air into her pink passage. She wriggled in response and I inserted my first finger and index finger to the hilt into her pussy. After a few in-out jabs they came out covered with honey. So lubricated I began to tease her brown stargate with one of the fingers, a little at first, but then I pushed it past the muscled gatekeeper into her rectum. She clenched her buttocks and stopped sucking my dick. "More suction, wench," I cried as her anal ring tried hard to capture my invading finger but the combination of anal stimulation and the subtle stroking of her clitoris that she was experiencing from my other hand, stopped her in her tracks. Her anal muscles relaxed and allowed a second finger to enter and ream her rear passage. This caused her to raise and lower her body on my hand. Her mouth ejected my dick so that she could pant wantonly as I pleasured both her holes. Seconds later I took the initiative and ordered her into a kneeling position. She complied willingly and presented her delicious arse for consummation. The deep-throated blowjob I had experienced had left me rigid and ready for what came next. I took the jar of oil that I had brought from the bathroom and poured some into my hands and then used them to caress her ample buttocks, dipping into her hidden valley and then into her rear entrance before coating my own straining erection. Using both hands, I splayed her mounds to expose her twitching brown star, still gapping open from earlier administrations and plunged an oily finger deep inside. She gasped and clutched it, but then relaxed and allowed a second finger to enter her. When all resistance to my fingers had gone I placed the tip of my cock against her opening and pushed. I think it surprised both of us when it slid, unopposed, deep inside her until my hairy groin brushed roughly against those soft white globes of flesh. When deep inside her, I leaned forward and grabbed her breasts as they swung pendulously below her broad chest and squeezed her nipples roughly. She pushed her rear back into me and her chest forward onto my groping hands and let out a rasping groan of pleasure. I withdrew my cock by almost all its length feeling the slippery muscles inside her rectum desperately gripping me - trying to stop my exit. The sensation was sublime and I thrust forward again to experience it once more and then fell into a rhythm of hard, impaling thrusts followed by slow exquisite withdrawals. I hovered in that neverland of enjoyment until I felt the inevitable onrush of my own completion - that swelling of my testicles that heralded her insemination. Sue's grunting and gasping, together with her erratic movements told me that she too, was close and I released my grip on her breast to rub her between her legs, fondling her clitoris until she and I came together. Not quietly and self-consciously like a mastabatory release, but violently and noisily like animals in a rutting frenzy. By the time we had cooled, the film had moved on and we had missed a lot of it, so we rewound and paused it while we lay together and emptied another glass of wine. "I don't know about you, Sue, but I need to freshen up. Let's stop the video and have a shower - it will be a squeeze so I don't want you taking advantage of me while I'm pressed up close to you!" I joked. "Let's take some candles and have a long hot bath instead," she responded. Porn With The Wind Charlotte O'Meara leaned back on her four-poster bed, her hoop skirts tilted back and up over her head, her bloomers down around her ankles. "Put it in! Put it in me, damn you!" she screamed at the young man standing at the foot of the bed, his stiff and dripping dick pointing at her puffy pussy lips. "Yes, Miss Charlotte, I'm doing my best!" said young Wesley. He stepped up to her wide-open womanhood, and placed his cock against the opening. Swinging his hips, he thrust his pink pork sword savagely into the soft folds of her wide-open pussy. It barely touched the sides. "Harder!" commanded Miss Charlotte. "Don't you know how to fuck a young lady? I can barely feel that! What kind of Southern Gentleman are you?" "I'm sorry, Miss Charlotte!" panted poor Wesley, thrusting and fucking as hard as he could. But try as he might, he could not satisfy Miss Charlotte, whose pussy was stretched out beyond all reason by a life of wanton sexual excess up and down the length and breadth of the Confederacy. "Oh, fiddle-dee-dee! Get out of here!" said Miss Charlotte in disgust, hurling poor Wesley against the opposite wall with her leather boot. "Nobody knows how to fuck anymore. Mammy! Come lace me up!" Mammy, Miss Charlotte's house slave, came running, her great bulk jiggling with the effort. She yanked the young harlot to her feet, and helped her pull up her bloomers and smooth down her skirts. "Lordy, lordy, Miss Charlotte," she nagged, her eyes bulging and tongue waggling, "You done fucked way too many young gentlemen in your days. Your pussy be all stretched out! You won't never be satisfied by a nine-incher again!" "Oh, hush, Mammy," said Miss Charlotte haughtily. "I just need to find a true gentleman who knows how to use the equipment that the Good Lord gave him." Mammy just rolled her eyes. She'd known Miss Charlotte since she was a baby, and she had always been a slut. ******************** Miss Charlotte sat on a rocking chair on the front veranda of her manor house, fanning herself against the heat and watching the slaves picking cotton in her father's fields. They were tall, strong, broad, and well-muscled. And the men were even bigger! She marveled at their rippling shoulders, squat legs, broad chests. She wanted one. "Melody," she said to her cousin in the next rocker, "Do you see those slaves out there? Do you think they know how to fuck?" Melody blushed down to her lacy neckline. "Well, I'm sure I don't know, Cousin Charlotte," she said demurely. "But, I hear that their men are extremely, well, er..." "Extremely what, Melody dear?" asked Charlotte in interest. "Oh, you know," said Melody. "They have, er, extra large, that is, overly sized, ah...." "What, darling?" "Cocks, Charlotte. Cocks. They have enormously big fucking cocks! Is that what you want to hear? Gigantic fucking penises between their legs! Huge, black, and throbbing! All right, Cousin?" "Why, Melody, my dear, there is no need to be so crude!" Charlotte scolded. But secretly, she flushed with excitement, and watched the men in the fields ever closer, imagining their huge swinging hoses of cock, hanging roughly inside their crudely sewn dungarees. And of course imagining one or more of them invading her ever-needful pussy. Her nipples tingled and crinkled at the thought. Charlotte stood and waved her hankie at the field foreman, Mr. Taggart. He caught her gesture, and came running. "Yes, Miss Charlotte?" he asked, bowing obsequiously to the haughty daughter of his employer. "What can I do for you, Miss?" "Mr. Taggart," said Charlotte casually, as if it were the most trivial request in the world, "Do you see that large buck Negro over there, by the willow tree?" She indicated the largest, blackest, strongest, most muscular man in view. "Why yes, of course, Miss Charlotte," said Taggart. "That's Mandingo, our strongest worker. What about him? Has he been bothering you? I'll have him flogged if he has." "Why dear Lord, no, Mr. Taggart," said Charlotte hastily. "Nothing like that. It's just that, well, I'd like to make his acquaintance. He seems like an interesting gentleman. Can you have him cleaned up and sent to my room later tonight?" Mr. Taggart was well aware of Miss Charlotte's sexual proclivities, and he also valued his job. So of course he agreed. "I'll have him in your room by 8 pm, Miss Charlotte, cleaned and perfumed and ready to, ah, entertain you," "Thank you, Mr. Taggart," said Charlotte. "You may go." She saw Melody's disapproving look as Taggart headed back to the fields, and stuck her tongue out at her. ****************** That evening, Miss Charlotte was in her room, seated on the lacy comforter of her antique four-poster bed, her flowing skirts demurely arranged around her hips and legs. Her bloomers and other undergarments, however, were tucked away in her bureau. When the knock came at her door, she fanned herself daintily and called, "Come in!" The door swung open. Mandingo, cap in hand, and uncomfortably dressed in a borrowed tweed suit, came shyly into the room. His broad shoulders barely fit through the doorway. "You called for me, Miss Charlotte?" he said meekly, shuffling from foot to foot and staring at the floor. "Why yes, Mr. Mandingo, do please come in. I've been ever so anxious to make your acquaintance. Please, do come in!" Mandingo reluctantly stepped deeper into the room. He had no idea why he was here, but feared the worst. Was he to be beaten? Sold? Killed? He had no idea. Charlotte stepped up to him, and ran her slim white hands up and down his muscular brown arms. "My, Mr. Mandingo, you are very strong, aren't you?" she cooed. He gulped in embarrassment. She ran her hands across his massive pectorals. "And you are very large, aren't you?" she said. He wheezed a little, and wondered again what fate he was about to endure. Charlotte threw herself on the bed, and lifted her hoop skirts up over her head. Her naked pussy was open to him, open and glistening like a large red gash, painfully open and wide, needing to be filled. "I want you to fuck me, Mr. Mandingo. Fuck me like I've never been fucked before. Fuck me with your huge black slave cock!" She spread her knees wide, and her oversized pussy beckoned to him like a railroad tunnel. Mandingo's head swam. He had never seen a white woman's legs before, let alone her private parts! But he was conditioned to a life of obedience, so he wasted no time in complying. He hastily ripped off his trousers, and fell onto her with his stiff cock, jamming it into her wet, floppy pussy with all possible speed. Charlotte lay back, closed her eyes, and waited to be split wide open; to be assaulted and abused; to be overcome with physical bliss and ecstasy. She felt his rough, calloused hands on her knees, his hot breath on her belly, and his rigid manhood between her legs. But she felt very little in her pussy. As he thrust into her, again and again, following her orders in mindless obedience, her sexual bliss was completely underwhelming. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared down at him, thrusting futilely between her legs. She cocked an eyebrow and watched him exerting himself. But she still felt nothing. "Hey! Mandingo!" she called. He stopped in his tracks and looked up at her, his face filled with embarrassment. "Are you fucking me, or what?" she asked. "I'm, um, pleasuring you, Miss Charlotte," he said, his voice quaking with fear. "I don't think so," she said. "Step back. Let me see you." Mandingo pulled his manhood out from between her legs and took two steps backwards. His cock, a mere six inches of thin stiff black meat, bobbed benignly from his crotch. "That's it?" screamed Charlotte. "That's all you've got? Half a foot? I thought you darkies were well hung!" "Not all of us, Miss Charlotte," cringed Mandingo. "Please don't beat me, Miss! Please don't sell me! I like it here!!" He bowed and wrung his hands, his face screwed up and on the verge of tears. "Get out of here!" she screamed, pointing at the door. "Get out of here, and take your miniature cock with you!" Mandingo ran out the door, his trousers in his hands and his wilting cock swinging, down the stairs and out the front door and across the veranda, until he was back in his own quarters with his wife and his seven children. Charlotte buried her head in her arms and sobbed. *************************** The next day on the veranda, Charlotte waved her hankie at Mr. Taggart again. Again, he came running. "Yes, Miss Charlotte? What can I do for you today, Miss?" "Mr. Taggart, when do the field hands shower?" "Shower, Miss?" "Yes, shower, Mr. Taggart. They must sweat out there in the fields. When do you let them clean up?" "Well, Miss," said Taggart cautiously, wondering what the little tramp was up to now, "They normally shower after the work day is over. Around 7 o'clock. The men shower in the men's shower, and the women shower in the women's shower." He cringed at having to utter such a moronic sentence. "And where is the men's shower, Mr. Taggart?" asked Charlotte cannily. Taggart pointed toward the southern end of the plantation. "That long low building over there, Miss Charlotte," he said. "Why do you ask?" "Never you mind, Mr. Taggart," said Charlotte. "I just like taking an interest in the running of my father's plantation, that's all." "Of course, Miss," said Taggart. Then he bowed, and headed back to the fields. "Why, Charlotte, you scamp," said Melody, fanning herself demurely. "Whatever are you up to?" "I need a large, black, stiff fucking dick, Melody my dear," said Charlotte, batting her eyelids. "And I intend to find one. As God is my witness, I'll never be horny again!" **************************** At fifteen minutes to seven, Charlotte was sitting on a stool behind the men's shower building. She had a parasol over her shoulder and a scarf around her head to keep out the glare of the setting sun. She had induced Taggart to drill a strategic hole in the wall of the shower building, and was waiting to select her next paramour. Melody had refused to join her, but no matter. She could pick out her next lover on her own. She waited, and soon heard the sound of spirituals being sung by the men returning from the fields. Swing Low Sweet Chariot, indeed, thought Charlotte. The door of the shower building swung open, and dozens of male slaves came marching in. They dropped their clothes by the entrance way, and proceeded to the shower area. She watched as the water sprayed down on their gleaming black hides, highlighting their rippling muscles and broad, powerful bodies. But Charlotte had no eyes for musculature, for pectorals, for biceps or triceps. Her only interest was in their long, black, swinging cocks. Her eyes, peering through the hole in the wall, flitted from crotch to crotch, searching for the largest, thickest, longest, most throbbing and dangerous looking schlong available on the plantation. The slaves tended to be somewhat larger than most of her white lovers, but, on average, were not all that much different that what she was accustomed to. Some were large, some were small. Many were average. But occasionally, she caught a glimpse of a larger, thicker, scarier than normal member that made her feel a thrill between her legs. She made mental notes of the larger ones, but for a long time, none were so large as to arouse her interest. Until..... Yes! There it was! A gigantic, swollen, huge swinging tube of glistening black flesh that made her heart leap in her chest and her breath catch in her throat. This was it! Gazing through the hole in the wall, she could not see his face, only his midsection. She saw a long, black, plump tube of man-meat; as big as a pump-handle, with a head like an apple and a pair of balls like coconuts; twitching and flapping like a thing possessed; gleaming with all the shiny black luminescence of an eggplant on the vine; she knew that this was the cock that she was born to fuck, that she was made to own, that she was destined to possess! She had to have it. She had to have it inside her, inside of her every hole. Leaning her head down toward the ground outside the peep-hole, she was able to see upward and get a glimpse of the face of the man who owned this massive tool: it was a gentle, tender, sincere face, a clever face, the face of a man to be reckoned with, thoughtful and bespectacled. She knew that she could deal with him. And she looked forward to feeling his massive cock inside her, stretching her, filling her, satisfying her, very soon. ******************* "Mr. Taggart, I need to speak with you." "Of course, Miss Charlotte," Taggart sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I need one of your field hands assigned to the house. Immediately." "Which one?" They were standing in the field, mid-morning. The slaves were already hard at work, covered with sweat and grime and singing their work songs. Charlotte glanced around, shielding her eyes against the sun. She saw him. "That one, over there," she pointed. "Theodore? Why, he's one of our best workers, and one of the smartest. A born leader. The rest of the slaves respect him. I don't think I can spare him, Miss Charlotte." "Do I need to speak to my father, Mr. Taggart?" Taggart sighed again, and went off to speak to Theodore. ************************** Theodore stood in the middle of Miss Charlotte's bedroom, exactly where Mandingo had stood so recently. He wore a crisp gray suit, and had neatly trimmed hair and wire rimmed glasses. He was of average height and weight, but Charlotte knew that his baggy trousers contained the real prize. Charlotte looked at him from the foot of the bed. "Do you know why you are here, Mr. Theodore?" "I have a fairly good idea," he said quietly. "Your new job will be to fuck me, on a regular basis. You are to see to it that my sexual needs are met. And I am very needful, Mr. Theodore." "Yes, Ma'am," said Theodore. He moved in close. He dropped his trousers. His massive penis, as long as a croquet mallet and as thick as a fence post, hung limply from his loins. "Oh my," muttered Charlotte, impressed despite herself. Although she had seen it before in the shower room, seeing it now, up close and personal, moved her in ways she could not have imagined. She licked her lips and felt herself becoming wet. "Please...." She moved forward, knelt on the floor, and approached the massive beast. Her hands reached forth to stroke it, to touch it, to see if it was real. It was. She grabbed it, stroked it as if it were an elephant's trunk. Her hands roved up and down its length, massaged the massive, spongy head. She pressed it to her cheek, felt its roughness and its heat. She was happy beyond all words. It existed! It was here, in her own chambers, ready to please her, to fill her! It was magnificent. She looked up at Theodore, pleadingly. He looked down at her, his face still blank. Charlotte kept stroking the massive dong, up and down, faster and faster, with her thin white hands. The contrasts between her tiny hands and his massive organ, between the pale white of her skin and the deep black of his, accentuated the eroticism of the moment. Theodore's massive cock began to stir, to twitch, to engorge with blood. Soon it was as hard and stiff as a soldier's musket, pointing at a target and ready to fire! Charlotte hopped up onto the bed and spread her legs. She raised her skirts over her head. The gaping hole of her over-stretched pussy beckoned like the opening of a coal mine. "Now, Mr. Theodore! Now!" she screamed. Theodore wasted no time. He pressed the gigantic bulb of his cockhead against her pussy lips; it slipped in, quickly overcoming the slight resistance of her labia. Charlotte gasped! He pressed it in further, slamming it deep to her cervix; Charlotte jumped! He rammed it back and forth, hard and fast, over and over, stretching her pussy further than it had ever been stretched before; Charlotte swooned! Charlotte's pussy had been so stretched out, for so long, that she had nearly forgotten what it was like to be filled by a man. But she was remembering now! Her lips, her vagina, her very being, were being pushed to their limit, were feeling the burning sensation of reaching their maximum, were being immersed in the painful pleasure of excess that she had missed for so long! Over and over, the gigantic tool slammed into her enormous, stretched-out cavern. Charlotte was in heaven. She felt such pleasure and pain and penetration as she had not felt since grade school! Theodore kept up his relentless assault with his oversized organ for what seemed like ages. Eventually, Charlotte felt an orgasm approaching; her pussy, stretched unaccustomedly to limits it had never before know, revving to heights and depths of pleasures unbeknownst, finally bust into a cacophony of ecstasy, flooding her brain and her soul with wave after wave of pleasure and perfection and bliss!! As Charlotte lay twitching and drooling on the bed, her eyes rolled back in her head and her tongue lolling out of the corner of her mouth, Theodore pulled out, and his tool swung down to graze the carpet. He watched her, vibrating with residual pleasure, her pale white flesh crawling and shuddering in ecstasy. After several minutes, her eyes fluttered open, her legs unclenched, and she sat up. "Why, Mr. Theodore, that was amazing!" she said, gasping. "You have a new job for life! Let's do it again!" And with that, she again threw her legs open wide. Theodore fucked her again, using all his strength, and all of his cock. In, out, in, out; his torpedo of a cock split her wide like a tree trunk in a lightening storm. Again, eventually, Charlotte lay twitching and satisfied. "Thank you kindly, Mr. Theodore," she said when she had recovered once more. "I haven't been fucked like that since my coming out party! You are very talented." Theodore looked down at his dripping dick, and his now slightly blue-tinged balls. "Miss Charlotte," he said, "You've had two orgasms now, and I haven't had any. After all this fucking, I really need to cum. My balls are beginning to hurt. Can I cum this time?" "Oh, fiddle-dee-dee," said Charlotte. "Don't be silly, Mr. Theodore. You are here to please me, not the other way around. Fuck me again, and do it now!" Theodore had no choice but to comply, again and again. After five orgasms, Charlotte had finally had enough. For the first time in many years, she was actually satiated. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. "Thank you kindly, Mr. Theodore, you may go now," she said with a wave of her slim white hand. Poor Theodore stared down at his sore cock and inflamed balls, now swollen and aching with sperm. He was in deep pain, needing release. "Please, Miss Charlotte! After all this fucking, I really need some relief!" "I said that is all, Mr. Theodore!" Charlotte said in exasperation. "Please do not become tiresome or forget your place! The door is that way." Theodore, wincing and crouching, walked gingerly out the door and down the stairs, careful not to strain his poor aching balls as they swung between his powerful thighs. As he crossed the veranda and made his way to the lawn, the pain was too much for him. He collapsed to the ground, and lay there in a fetal position, softly keening in pain. Mammy, Charlotte's house slave, happened to be walking the grounds to take her evening air before retiring. Her gaze fell on poor Theodore, laying on the ground by the hedge and writhing in pain. Her eyes bulged out of her head. "Why, Mr. Theodore! Whatever are you doing here?" she said. Theodore looked up at her with tears in his eyes. "Miss Charlotte," he began. "She... she used me.... I..." "Hush, child," said Mammy. She knew Miss Charlotte well. "I know all about it. Your balls are aching for release, aren't they?" Porn With The Wind "Yes, Mammy," said Theodore, looking up at her, pleadingly. "Lordy, lordy, lordy," said Mammy, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She helped poor Theodore to his feet. "Come with me, child." She led him by the hand to the shed behind the large manor house. Undoing her massive blouse, Mammy lay herself down on a bail of hay, her enormous bosom exposed. "Take your release, child," she said. "Fuck me between my titties." Gratefully, Theodore straddled Mammy's enormous chest, and laid his massive tool in her deep, cavernous cleavage. He began swinging from his hips, feeling the skin of his cock sliding back and forth between Mammy's huge, fleshy breasts. The feeling of her soft, ancient flesh, pliant and warm, engulfing and loving his tortured tool, was like food to a starving man. He felt the pressure once again rising in his balls, but now had no need to hold back the flood of jism that was surging to escape. A few moments of thrusting and sliding between her warm, loving jugs was all that it took. Theodore's balls twitched and tightened, and his massive cockhead spat an enormous rope of glistening white sperm five feet in the air. The next spurt landed on Mammy's fleshy face, as did the next three. After that, jolt after jolt shot out, only to be lost in the vastness of her saggy, black bosom. Theodore rolled to the ground, exhausted but relieved. He looked up at Mammy, his face full of gratitude. "You saved my life, Mammy," he said weakly. Mammy clucked her tongue. "Don't you ever let Miss Charlotte do that to you again, you hear me child? It just ain't fittin', you understand? It just ain't fittin'!" *********************** The next evening, Theodore was again on his way to Miss Charlotte's chambers to service her needs, glumly thinking about his unfortunate fate. He passed Mammy on the stairs on his way to her room. "Remember, child, you be strong!" Mammy admonished him. "Don't you let Miss Charlotte use you like a piece of meat. She needs you more than you need her. And her father needs you in his fields; you are the leader of the work hands. Don't you let her take advantage of you." Theodore gritted his teeth. He would do his best to be strong. But it was not in his nature to stand up to the daughter of his owner. He knocked at the gold-trimmed white door to Miss Charlotte's chambers, and swung it open at her call. She was lying on the bed, as usual, with her legs spread wide and her skirts lifted. Her gaping red pussy smiled its evil hello. "Good evening, Mr. Theodore. Are you ready to resume our entertainments?" She stared at his crotch, no further explanations being necessary. "Yes, Ma'am," Theodore said wearily, and dropped his trousers. Soon, he was again thrusting his enormous tool between her milky white thighs, deep into her loose, floppy pussy, stretching her and punishing her, and taking her to heights of ecstasy. "Oh, yes, oh, yes!!" screamed Charlotte, jerking her head back and forth on her satin pillow, and writhing her pelvis under the assault of Theodore's massive member. Squirming and shuddering, she ground her lips and her clit against the tree-trunk of his cock, riding and writhing herself to her first orgasm of the evening. With a loud swoon, she arched her back and shrieked, then lay panting for several minutes, her bosom heaving under the brocade of her bodice. Theodore stepped back and watched her gasping on top of the lacy quilt, his cock throbbing and twitching before him. After several minutes, Charlotte's eyes fluttered open and she sat up. "Thank you kindly, Mr. Theodore; that was very nice. And now, another, if you please." Theodore took a hesitant step forward, but then remembered Mammy's warning. He stopped in his tracks. Conflicting thoughts fought in his mind; obedience? or self preservation? Would Mr. Taggart have him beaten? Or happily return him to the fields where he belonged? He closed his eyes, exhaled, and made up his mind. "No, Miss Charlotte," he said, trying not to show his nervousness. "No?" said Charlotte, arching an eyebrow. "That is not a word I want to hear from you, Mr. Theodore. Do I need to have Mr. Taggart beat you?" "I don't think he will, Miss Charlotte," Theodore said evenly. "He values my work in the fields. I will fuck you once each night, and you will relieve me once each night. That is my offer. Take it, or call your father and we'll see what he says." Charlotte's eyes widened in panic. She did not want her father knowing how she was abusing his slaves! Her lower lip began to quiver in fear. She stared at Theodore's massive prick bobbing before her. She glanced at his face. He appeared resolute. "All right," she said. "We'll do it your way." She slid off the bed, and dropped to her knees. She reached up, placing her hands on the magical black cock that hung so proudly in front of her face. She felt its heat, its power, its slickness with the juice of her pussy. She began to stroke it. Theodore's eyes were closed, and his face was tilted up toward the ceiling fan. He was in ecstasy at the tender ministrations of his owner's daughter's slim cool hands on his cock. He felt her soft tender palms all over him, stroking him, jacking him, kneading and massaging him. Her arms were barely long enough to stroke him from root to tip, but she managed to stimulate his entire shaft. Up and down, over and over, she pulled and tugged and stroked at his long, black trunk of cock. He got harder and longer under her touch, and his enormous head flared like a canon ball. Charlotte stared straight at it, eye to eye with the giant slit which was gaping at her face. Suddenly, she felt a massive throb in Theodore's shaft, and saw his pendulous balls twitch massively. Her mouth flew open in a gasp, but before she could duck, a giant rope of pearly white jism hit her full in the face, filling her mouth and coating her eyes and nose. Another jolt hit her and nearly knocked her over. Several more coated her forehead and chest, before they finally tapered off. The massive cock began to wilt, until it was merely a sleeping snake in her numb hands. Charlotte stared numbly as Theodore tucked his wilting schlong back into his trousers and buckled himself up. "Thank you kindly, Miss Charlotte," he said, secure in the knowledge that he had won the upper hand. "That was very satisfactory. Same time, tomorrow?" He placed his cap on his head and started toward the door. "Wait!" shrieked Charlotte, still on her knees, grabbing at his shins. "Don't go! I need more!" Theodore shook her off and left the room, leaving the door open behind him. "Theodore! Don't go! I need you!" wailed Charlotte. "Where will I go? Who will I screw?" Theodore turned briefly on his way to the staircase and looked her in the eye. "Until tomorrow night, Miss Charlotte, screw whoever you want. Frankly, I don't give a damn." Then all she saw was his straight back and taut buttocks, walking proudly down the wide staircase toward the front door. Charlotte sat on the floor of her room, weeping and wiping sperm from her face with the lacy sleeve of her dressing gown. He's gone, she thought. But, he'll be back tomorrow! "Yes," she said aloud, her face brightening. "He'll be back tomorrow evening. And tomorrow is another lay!" Porn without Point I think we're in a smutty fic, the little yellow caption box read. Wanda Wilson, the mercenary also known as Lady Deadpool despite being in parallel universe where there was no male Deadpool and the title itself not being gender-specific, felt inclined to argue. "Nah, what if we're in a crackfic?" The only crack in this fic is the only that's about to get a cock in it. "How do you figure?" Well, for one thing, all of a sudden you have big ol' bubble butt and double-D breasts. "I'm a comic book character. Comes with the territory. Have you seen what Dust is rocking? She has the only skintight hijab outside a Charlie Hebdo cartoon." Also, you don't have the slightest trace of scars and there's an OC following you. "Shit, Carlie Cooper? Silk? Solus?" No, those are official Marvel characters. They just read like bad OCs. You'll notice this one is wearing a black Spider-Man suit. "Yeah, what's up with that?" Wanda demanded. "Come up with your own costume! It's not like it's hard. Skintight black leather, some unnecessary piping, domino mask, it's not hard!" He probably wants to know about the violent murders over the past few weeks. "If they didn't want to die, they shouldn't have pissed off people rich enough to hire me to kill them. I know! I'll lose him in this abandoned factory building. He won't follow me there—it's probably full of multiethnic gangs of street trash hooligans who'd try to peer pressure him into doing drugs!" Wanda parkoured inside, finding the factory full of atmosphere catwalks and big rusting vats of corrosive acid. She made a note to remember the place for later, in case she needed to create an arch-nemesis. Nothing for making the archiest of nemeses like corrosive acid—especially if it was boiling. She went to check the nearest vat. If it was boiling, maybe she could dunk an egg in it, get it soft-boiled. "Hello, chica! Wanna be cool and do drugs?" said an ambiguously ethnic gang member, those some of his fellow gang members were white, so it wasn't racist. In fact, the yellow text box read, aren't you a little racist for noticing? There were six of them, and they weren't the kind of gang members you hold memorials for after the police shoot them. There were headbands. Some of them had torn the sleeves off their jackets; others didn't wear shirts under their jackets. Fingerless gloves abounded. "Gratuitous violence!" Wanda cried. "Quick, one of you say something disparaging about my gender! That way, it'll be super feminist when I beat you up to establish how badass I am!" "We are going to rape you!" said the gang leader, who was white, so it was super-not-racist, because the worst one of them was the white guy. Unless you look at it as all the black, Asian, and Latin@ gang members taking orders from a white guy. That would kinda be racist, right? "No!" Wanda pointed out, "because they're bad guys and they're taking orders from a white guy, which is bad, whereas I take orders from Da Chief, that distinguished older black gentleman with a bit of a gut who's always telling me to get results!" That was a magazine editor. And he told you to get out of his office. "His lips said that, but his eyes were telling me to get results." "Who are you talking to?" demanded the Asian gang member, who was armed with a pair of nun-chucks, which was a little racist, but in a cool, edgy way. "Your ass!" Wanda told him, and drew her samurai swords. "Wow, that's a little appropriative," the Asian gang member said before she cut his head off. The black gang member drew a lead pipe and the white gang leader pulled a golf club, both of them managing to block Wanda's akimbo slashes, so she dropped the swords and just shot them instead with pistols quick-drawn from her gunbelt. "Why didn't I do this before?" Wanda wondered. "And why don't the Power Rangers ever call in the Zords to step on the monsters when they were little? And what about the eagles in Middle-Earth, why couldn't the Fellowship just ride—" A Hispanic gang member, who was not at all representative of his proud and noble culture, hit Wanda over the head with a length of chain. Everything flashed yellow; Wanda tried to read this apparently very large caption, but then it turned black. "Oh," she said, "I'm supposed to be unconscious." Wanda woke up tied to a chair. She didn't know how long she'd been out—it was possible she'd missed Wendy Williams like some basic bitch—but the remaining three gang members were surrounding her. The ones who hadn't hit her were both black, and they were rubbing their hands together as she came to, the lifting of her head pulling her skintight suit taut over her breasts. "Oh, it's one of those fanfics," Wanda said. "Hey, why the hell are you reading this trash? Yeah, I'm talking to you! What's next, some loli? A little bestiality action? Just jerk it to Jenna Jameson, ya weirdo! The feminists will hate you just as much!" "Oh, we're not going to rape you," the Hispanic gang member said. "But we are going to explain to you why the Great Eagles couldn't just fly the Fellowship into Mordor." "Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" "First of all, the Eagles of Manwë don't work for Gandalf, he can't just order them around, they're more like compatriots because they're both Maiar and they help each other from time to time." "I thought it was just that they were both servants of Manwë," said one of the black gang members, "not that the Great Eagles were actually Maiar like Gandalf." Wanda opened her legs. "Rape me! Rape me!" "Hey, jerks!" Chad called from up in the rafters, which the factory had above the also very atmosphere catwalk. "You wanna let Kurt Cobain there go?" "You disrespecting me, cous?" the Hispanic gang member asked in a way that Hispanic people actually did, as he drew a switchblade. Chad jumped down from the rafters and quickly proved that switchblades, lead pipes, two-by-fours, and an admirable willingness to befriend and associate with other races were no match for having the proportionate strength and speed of a spider, or for having inexplicable access to Peter Parker's invention of long-chain polymer that knits and forms an extremely tough, flexible fiber with extraordinary adhesive properties upon contact with air. They didn't know this because they weren't educated, which was their real problem, not any intrinsic racial thing. Lack of education. Stay in school. After he'd trounced them, Chad went to Wanda. "My hero!" she cried. "Why don't you uncuff me so I can give you your reward? Or leave them on, maybe it's that kind of fic—" "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm pretty sure you killed three of these guys, and a lot of other people, so you're going to jail." "Pretty sure I'm going to Bonertown, actually; population: you." "Are you kidding? Spider-Man would never agree to let a murderer go free just because she offered him sexual favors." "But you're not Spider-Man," Wanda pointed out, wagging her hips teasingly. "You're an OC." "Good point." Chad uncuffed her; as soon as her hands were freed, he took one small gloved palm and drew it to his hardening groin. Wanda's eyes widened as she felt the throbbing stiffness inside his trousers. While she was still wide-eyed, he took her up to the rooftop where the tied up gang members couldn't see, and where they couldn't smell the corpse-y freshness of the guys Wanda had killed. Wanda pulled off her mask. "Hunh, I thought you were deformed," Chad said. "I am! Look at these things!" Wanda jiggled her double-D breasts. "How do I walk to the mailbox without these things punching me in the face? My bra must be made out of unstable molecules." Christ, what's with all the plot? The yellow textbox read. I could've downloaded a Blu-Ray rip of Lisa Ann's last movie in the time it takes you two to get busy! "There needs to be some description," Wanda said defensively. "He's a goddamn OC!" She looked Chad over. He was an impressive specimen of manhood, standing six feet three inches, just enough height for his two hundred and thirty pounds of solid musculature. A great hulking brute, his bullet-shaped head topped broad shoulders and a powerfully built chest, his tight costume clinging to the hard jutting curves of his pecs, while his six-pack angled into his suit like six diamonds in a jewelry setting. The only place his costume was slack was at legs and thighs, where the fabric was drawn away from his skin by the tent at his crotch. The gigantic proportions of his arousal was quite called for. Having realized she was in a PWP, Wanda swayed her hips and thrust her full, pendulous breasts out, pressing them against the thin material of her costume (don't think about how, technically, 616 Deadpool's costume is just as thin). The pouting circles of her nipples were clearly outlined, drawing Chad's eyes as fervently as Wanda's darted to his crotch. Without further plot, Wanda threw herself to her knees and tugged down Chad's pants. His cock was too big for a normal woman, but just right for a fanfic... or Paris Hilton. Ten inches long, almost as thick around as Wanda's wrist, it thrust out from him like an arm with a clenched fist, the end throbbing impatiently. Wanda stared at it like she'd never seen a dick before, trembling with excitement, uttering little coos like it was a baby bird. She reached out and ran her palm over its bloated tip, feeling the warm lotion of his precum anoint the heel of her hand. Wanda encircled the shaft in her hand, running her fingers lovingly up and down his cock with the lightest of grips. With her other hand, she weighted Chad's balls, plying them with her fingers. Chad's muscular frame shuddered in anticipation. He licked his lips, but that just made him taste his mask, and it was gross. He pulled the mask up over his mouth to say "Okay, let me feel that warm mouth of yours..." Wanda had no objection, puckering her lips against Chad's cockhead, then swirling her tongue across his crown, mewling in delight at the taste of his musky manhood. Stretching her jaws until they could've snapped, she took his entire cockhead into her mouth, slurping it like it was the straw on a milkshake as she ran her fingers along the substantial portion of his shaft that reminded to her. Chad moaned in appreciation, reaching down to dig his fingers into Wanda's blonde hair as if to hold her still for the lusty bucking of his hips, the receiving of several more inches of his cock deep inside her mouth. Wanda gagged, taking even more of him inside her, taking him right up until he punched against the back of her throat, but she swallowed hard and felt the first few inches of his cock in her throat. Chad threw back his head, feeling her constricted throat open up to him, and even more of his manhood disappeared down Wanda's gullet. He moaned again as Wanda's wide-stretched lips came into contact with the thick base of his shaft. Wanda savored the pleasure of being stuffed completely full of him, but gratefully took in a deep breath when he pulled back—only to pump back down her throat, gagging her once more. I can't believe what I'm seeing, the yellow textbox read. She swallowed that whole serving of manmeat! And she's loving it! How could someone ever take something that big into their mouth, let alone their vagina? God, I wonder what it'd be like for my virgin cunt to be opened up by that huge organ... Chad pumped her throat until he'd almost come, then backed away, knowing she'd milk him dry if she could. Wanda sagged, as if the cock had done more to hold her up than anything else. His saliva-slick cock now glistened in the sunlight, pointing at her demandingly. Chad hefted Wanda up, pulling her against his firm body, enjoying the feeling of her pliant flesh even more when he squeezed her full breasts through her costume. She loved it too, so much that she ripped her costume open for him. He encircled her breasts with either hand, squeezed hard, rubbed them together and pulled them apart just to see if Wanda's moans would be any different. Then he bent down to her tits and sucked nosily at one, drawing on the soft flesh like a vacuum, his tongue repeatedly covering her throbbing nipple. He drew away to clamp his mouth onto her other breast, while his hand rubbed his saliva into the wet one. Wanda moaned in delight as he worked vigorously at her breasts, only stopping to pull at his mask. "But... my secret identity..." "I'm not gonna recognize you, silly, you're an OC!" "Oh, yeah, right." She ripped his mask away, but barely cared to look at his face before she shoved him down to the ground. Then she was on him like a predator on its prey, resting her hands on his hard chest, licking at his stomach, up from the wiry hairs of his pelvis to the hard burnished muscles of his sternum. She ripped at his suit to get at them, until her fingertips were brushing his nipples, circling around them to get them nice and hard for her lowering mouth. When she sucked on them, they felt as hard as her own. Her tits hung like melons swaying on the vine, hot nipples brushing through the hairs on his chest. Splaying herself on Chad, Wanda suddenly licked up Chad's throat to his mouth, catching him in a heated kiss as her cunt met his thick cock. She slid it up his shaft, moaning into their kiss, until she brought herself down on his upright manhood with a screaming end to the tongue-play. He held her—it was all he could do—as she plunged herself down onto his cock over and over again. Chad instinctively threw his hips into her, nearly knocking her loose even as he thrust into her depths, but Wanda always caught him inside her. "Fuck me, fuck me!" she groaned, needing cock more than anything else in the world. She lapped at his face one last time, marking it with a stripe of saliva from his chin to his brow, before rising up to straddle him, her thighs now on either side of his body. Wanda felt charged with electricity, bouncing up and down on Chad's prick. Her tits jiggled. Her flesh sparked and scorched. Lightning bolts struck her pussy. She gyrated her hips to pour her juices over his thick shaft, drown him in her, and he bucked his hips obediently, swirling inside her, plowing into her, fucking her no matter how tightly her labia lips clung to his cock. '"Stick me with that cock! Put it in my cunt!" Wanda demanded, riding him as hard as she could manage. If he were a horse, she wanted him to do a mile a minute for her. What was left of her costume was streaked with sweat. Her bare flesh showed a thin film of perspiration. Beads of it flew from her as she rode up and down on Chad. She drove herself faster, harder. Her moans became louder, became the low, guttural sounds of an animal as she forced herself onto his cock harder and faster than such a thing could ever be made to fit inside her tight pussy. But he went inside her. Over and over again. "Oooooooohhhhhhh!" She couldn't stand it anymore. Wanda fell to the side, onto her side, and Chad stayed with her, splitting her legs now, continuing to thrust blindly inside her. His cock splashed in and out of her as he did her from the side, matching her stroke for stroke, pounding her, stuffing her full. He fucked her hot cunt with all the strength he had, out of control as she bounced around in his grip. No matter how hard he fucked, her cunt was tight against his cock, sucking at it as hard as her mouth ever had. Chad couldn't take it anymore. He pulled himself upright, throwing himself against her body, pulling one well-toned leg against his body, the other bent under Wanda as she took his cock. She was on her side, held impaled on Chad's body as he thrust desperately into her, filling and emptying her sex, blue sparks racing through her loins. Her cunt felt like it was being burned to cinders by the searing heat of their fuck, by his friction against her clinging flesh. Tears welled up in Wanda's eyes as the delicious fire consumed her. Eyes shut, she swirled in darkness, lights flashing inside her with myriad colors. Every nerve in her was alive and alert, screaming at her, shaking with jolts of electricity. "Make me come!" Wanda screamed, and his cock whipped into her, a blur inside her cunt, an invisible force splitting her in two. "Me first!" Chad cried as he drove into her with his most powerful stroke, jamming his cock inside her as it exploded with hot cum, filling her pussy with a flood of cum that felt too sizeable to ever fit inside her. Wanda's body was rocked with the sudden warmth and presence inside her. She felt herself being lifted, a soaring feeling in her cunt, taking her so high that she just had to come. Every nerve ending tingled. Every thought in her head stopped. Her body was out of her control, all spasms and quivers and screams. She gave into the power of the climax tearing at the fibers of her. Chad made a few more thrusts, a few more gulping plugs of his seed inside her, marked by flashing lights of red and yellow burning brightly inside Wanda's head. Her sex contracted and relaxed around his throbbing shaft, massaging it inside her warm pussy. "I'm coming! I'm fucking you and I'm coming!" She moaned from the depths of her throat, long and low, and her body shook. She jerked against his cock, every jolt sending another rivulet of his cum spilling out of her, another hot blast of ecstasy through her body. It tore through her cunt like a tidal wave and she grabbed her own breasts, hurting them in her hands, the pain turning to pleasure as she seemed to come again. Or maybe she'd never stopped climaxing. When he'd finished, Wanda resolved to enjoy that big prick again. She didn't care where. Chad pulled himself out of Wanda's snatch, though it still seemed to pulse with his entry, and lifted himself above her on his hands and knees. He grinned down at Wanda. "I shoulda tracked you down a long time ago. You really know how to use that little pussy," he said breathlessly. "You really make a girl want to be used," Wanda replied, even more (less?) breathlessly. With a half-laugh, Chad came down on her, wrapping his powerful arms around her slender back, crushing her body to his and smothering her lips with his own. His big hands slid down her back, digging into the abundant curves of her ass, squeezing them like she was trying to force her pelvis even harder against his. Then, before the pressure could mount, he worked his body up hers, walking his knees up on either side of her narrow waist. He pushed his cock toward her tits, Wanda's nipples tensing automatically in anticipation of his next move. All of her trembled as he touched the end of each nipple with his wet cockhead, smearing her dusky nipples with his warm cum. Wanda cooed and rubbed his seed into her areolas. Arched her back to come up and lick at his sweat-slick belly, arms embracing his hips, kissing at his navel as she urged him higher. Taking her mop of hair in his hand, he brought her back down to the ground and let her whimper with desire as his cockhead touched her chin. Her mouth opened wide to accept his cum-smeared organ, and he fed himself into the greedy little circle. Hardening once more, Chad gave Wanda a low-lidded grin. "Hot bitch..." Already, the head of his prick had swollen immensely. Wanda licked and sucked her way back down his shaft, came back up to bath his cockhead with long, swooping lashes of her tongue. She stabbed the tip of her tongue into the tiny cleft of his helmet, searching for a fresh supply of his delicious cum. Chad felt her tongue settle under his cockhead. She was done sucking him like a lollypop. Now she moved her head back and forth, his prick sliding over the soft cushion of her tongue, the tip of his cock once more being invited into her throat. Porn without Point She would pull her head back until his cock almost slipped from her mouth, the crown being pressed into her teeth, then thrust herself forward again, gagging herself on him. Every time she brought her face forward, she took more and more of his cock, until its head was far beyond her tonsils and her nose was snorting his pubic hair. It didn't take much of that blowjob to have Chad shaking like the last leaf of fall. Wanda ripped down what remained of his bottoms, grabbing his asscheeks to gorge herself even more efficiently on his cock. Chad couldn't control how his hips pumped, how his legs shook, and Wanda gurgled as he fucked her face, ready to come, ready for a truly gigantic orgasm. Chad leaned back, staring from the corner of his eye at her wet lips around his plunging cock. Her eyes were closed, mouth stretched wide around his manhood, with saliva drooling from the corners of her mouth. She seemed to be concentrating on nothing but his cock. Chad felt his cum surging. He groaned and shoved her back down; pushed her down the roof so that his cock was aimed at her tits, not her mouth. He grabbed her large, pillowy breasts, pulling them apart only to sandwich his renewed cock in her deep cleavage. Then his hips twitched lewdly, Chad stroking his bulging manhood through her silky tits. His erection was so long that it stabbed into her chin, moving her whole head every time he thrust forward. "I'm gonna come again," he muttered huskily, shaking his head like he was punch-drunk. "Come in your mouth now!" "Shit, yes, my mouth—" Chad went through her tits one last time, then came up to hunch over her head and simply fuck her face. He jabbed violently into her mouth until another enormous load of cum shot between her cheeks, running wetly down her throat, dribbling lewdly from the corners of her mouth. "Fucked you, Lady Deadpool! Fucked your cunt, fucked your mouth, fucked you good!" He heard her literally choking on his cum and pulled out, shooting the rest of his wad in her face. But her mouth was open once more, her throat clear. Chad violated her mouth once more. He held onto Wanda's head and his hips gave a last flurry of thrusts. As the last of his cum was fed to Wanda's sucking mouth, Chad bent over in a spasm. But Wanda kept his cock in her mouth a bit longer. She sucked him clean. Swallowed every drop. Then he collapsed backward across her body, his breath coming in the rapid rasps of a man in pain. He lay there, very still, for about a minute. Wanda gasped for breath. With her mouth open, she huffed and puffed oxygen back into her body. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she felt his hands roaming her naked body again. He turned her over like he was playing with a ragdoll, making her lie face down on the rooftop. And he parted her asscheeks. "Where are you going to fuck me now?" Wanda moaned. The End Epilogue Wanda reached back, pulling her firm asscheeks apart and displaying her hole like a target. Chad uncorked a capsule of unprocessed webfluid, which was quite slippery in its natural form (a key difference from Peter Parker's formula, as it happened), and squeezed it like toothpaste down the crack of Wanda's ass. He made sure to press the nozzle into Wanda's asshole to get her as lubricated as possible. "Whoa, that feels really slippery," Wanda said. "I may get that Buzz Lightyear action figure out of there finally." Chad rubbed some webfluid on his cock, then tossed the capsule away. "Has to be slippery if we're going to have a good time." He spread the fluid all along Wanda's ass, rubbing her cheeks back and forth, getting a proper feel for her. He took his time, a couple minutes, getting her hole filled with webfluid, with his finger, with both, until Wanda was rocking herself up and down, swiveling her hips, sliding around with Chad's fingers inside her. "That is a good time," Wanda moaned. "How about my pussy too?" "Been there, done that." Still, Chad slid a hand around Wanda's hips, coming up under her pelvis to play with her clitoris, enter her pussy, stroke both with the same guitaring finger movements. And as he did so, he pushed his other fingers deeper into her asshole, twisting them around inside her loosening ring. "Now we're getting someplace." Wanda pumped herself up and down, rolling her ass and her cunt so she could feel his fingers touching her everywhere. She jacked herself off with her rolling hips, her sliding legs, Chad's piercing fingers, until she was so hot that more fingers just wouldn't do. She needed a cock. Chad kept stroking Wanda's pussy like it was a pet as he used his other hand now to lift his cock between her cheeks, filling the narrow groove and rubbing himself against her slippery ass. "No, I want it in me now! I want you inside me!" Chad shrugged and guided himself to her anus. Wanda moaned, just from that, and Chad pushed forward, thrusting himself deep inside her. "Perfect," he grunted. Wanda cried out, amazed at the intrusion. "Christ, that thing is big! I mean, big! It's so fucking big and I'm so fucking full and I like it, oh, motherfucker, I like it so much! Fuck!" Chad pounded into her, filled her even fuller than she thought she was. There was no stopping him. He wanted all his meat to feel the tightness of her ass on it. He ground himself into her hole, more and more of it disappearing inside, and the rest he rammed in as hard and fast as he could, forcing it in until his groin was flush with her ass. It was a long, sliding fuck into a small asshole, with Wanda screaming about how she loved big cocks, how she loved to fuck, how she loved to fuck big cocks up her asshole, how she loved chimichangas—it was all a bit repetitive. "Will you shut up and let me come?" Chad shot forward one last time, one last impossible inch, and then, fully seated in her anus, he let loose with another barrage of cum to join the ones up her pussy and down her throat. With a keening laugh, he gave Wanda's ass a slap. "Just the way I like it. Full of cum." "Your cum, right? Otherwise it's a bit odd." "Yes, my cum." Chad pulled himself back out until he'd yanked himself free, then he collapsed next to her. They were both sweating heavily now, Wanda panting and gasping to catch her breath. "Can I suck your cock again?" she asked. "But... it was just in your ass. I mean, really-" The End Porn Writer Author's note This is a Loving wife story. Not slut/cuck, not BTB, and not Gay. I wish to apologize to my readers. My last posting was obviously just bait for the anons who seem to enjoy calling writers names. It is beyond my comprehension that people would intentionally try to hurt the feelings of someone who is providing them with a service for free. I feel that in doing so, they prevent good writers from posting their work here, in fear of being ridiculed. The baiting worked, It received more comments than any other story I have written. Of course most of it was hateful. The story did belong in another category. That being the case, just say so. You don't have to call a writer names to get the point across. TO: AMerryMan Thank you for taking the time to do the research, but you only looked at one of the other 12 stories I have posted. Thanks for your suggestions also, I will take them under consideration. TO Deep Soaker I prefer to have an open forum, for honest debate and discussion. It is only the name calling and ridicule I disapprove of. Thanks for your lengthy and in depth response. TO user 10 Actually Joe goes to the Uni. where Rob worked, unloaded a semi automatic rifle into a crowd, then proceeded to off his own wife. After all, those damn homos have no self control. TO bonnietaylor2 Thanks, I think. TO swingerjoe You nailed it. Thank you for seeing my point. TO luedon Damn, I'm good at that shit. To all readers, If you have legitimate/helpful remarks, by all means, post a comment. If you just want to bitch, complain, ridicule, flame, etc., most of us (writers) would prefer you didn't. * I love my wife very much. She is the best thing that ever happened to me. She is totally devoted to me and our children. It is therefore no surprise that she would go to great lengths to please me. I have been a fan (pronounced addict) of porn of any kind, since I was a teen. Of course we didn't have the internet then, but magazines and film were good mediums of my delight. I would spend countless hours pouring over the latest issue of my fathers adult mag. When I got older, I truly enjoyed the booths at the local adult video store. My favorite themes in stories and film were the ones that involved women who had sex with someone other than their husbands. The attraction to this theme, I believe, is the idea that the woman was receiving total sexual satisfaction, with or without the husband's participation. Also that a man could love a woman so much, that he was willing to let her have a lover, in order to achieve that satisfaction. Part of the theme, of course, is that the lover always had a monster cock, and could fuck for hours on end. I will be the first to admit that I was not gifted in the cock department. What I lack in size, I try my damndest to make up for in stamina and determination. I will lick, finger, pound, mash, whatever it takes. I will suck a woman's pussy until hell freezes to make her cum. I love the female body, especially my wife's, so it really isn't much of a sacrifice. That said, I began to write erotica in high school. My friends read some, and started asking for more. I barely had time for homework, trying to keep up with the demand. In college I managed to get a few articles printed in some of the well known mags. It was around this time I met Gwen. Oh My God. What a beautiful woman she was, and I swear, she was so sweet, sugar wouldn't melt in her mouth. Classy and intelligent too, with a great sense of humor. I know what you're thinking, what the hell was she doing with me? I have asked myself the same thing numerous times. I guess love truly is blind. One day, after we had been married for about three years, I was in my home office writing. Gwen came in and asked what I was working on. At this point I had written my first novel, (unpublished as of then) and was working on my second. Unfortunately when she entered I was working on a porn story. This particular one was a very in depth cuckold story. I am not very good at hiding things from Gwen. At the time I was using an electric typewriter, and throwing my body over the keyboard probably didn't help alleviate her curiosity. So when I sort of brushed her off, she was persistent. She sat in my lap and read the first sentence of the page I was working on.. She looked at me in the strangest manner I had ever been witness to. She then reached over to the side of the typewriter where the first few pages of the story were, and started at the beginning. I was stricken with fear that she would storm out and pack her bags. She was totally unaware of this side of me. "I take it that this is not part of your novel." "Uh...no..it's just something I do for fun." "So, this isn't the first story like this, that you have written?" "No, I've been writing erotica since high school. It's kinda the reason I got interested in literature in the first place. People liked what I wrote, so I started writing other things too." "You have other stories like this? I want to see them." I couldn't put a read on her... was she angry... amused... Damn I was in big trouble, was all I knew for sure. I went to the office closet and pulled out three boxes. I think she was amazed at the volume of material that was displayed to her. After another hard look at me she picked up a box, and left. I sat at my desk, and tried to think up excuses for writing such trash. I was young when I started... it was just j/o material. Right? My friends made me do it, so it's their fault. Right? Both were somewhat true, but, the whole truth would include me enjoying it. The writing and the fantasy. I decided to come clean, and tell her the whole truth. It was the right thing to do if I wanted to keep honesty in my marriage. I went upstairs to our bedroom, and found the door locked. CRAP!! I really was in deep shit. I knocked on the door. "Honey?" "Go away." definitely deep doo doo. After pouring myself a tumbler full of Scotch, I sat at my desk and wondered how I would tell my mom we were getting divorced. Mom loved Gwen, so I couldn't say she was some crazy bitch. I sure wasn't going to tell my mother I like j/o material. My dad might understand that, but not Mom. On second thought, Dad wouldn't understand either. I took my second tumbler full to the den, and turned on the TV just for some noise. As I considered a third drink, Gwen called me from upstairs. I couldn't get there fast enough. Entering, I saw that she was already in bed. "It's late, and I need to get some sleep." was all she said. On the way to the shower, I noticed the box in the corner. Beside it was a stack of stories, presumably the ones she had already read. Her cold and mysterious demeanor had me on edge. Am I getting a divorce or not? Can she forgive me... will she... or even should she? I got in bed, nearly in tears. I really didn't want to lose the best thing in my life. I snuggled in behind her, and kissed her neck. Reaching around, I placed my hand on her cute, flat, little tummy. She didn't push me away... good sign. I slowly eased my hand up to her 36c breasts. This is usually a good signal that I want to make love to her. Normally she will push her butt back against my groin in response. Rarely has she ever declined my advances. Tonight, nothing. Not a moan or a whispered "I love you." Not anything. Just a cold back and silence. I rolled over and tied to sleep. The next day, when I awoke, she had already left for work. This had never happened. Whoever got up first, put the coffee on and woke up the other. No coffee, no note. I was probably well and truly fucked. I work from home. Besides being an unpublished author, I manage a rather large quantity of both residential and commercial real estate holdings that belong to my family, well my parents, and eventually me. Besides the day to day dealings with tenants, I have also managed to increase these holdings by 25 percent since taking over after my father's heart attack. Gwen has a good job as the head librarian in our large town's library system. Quite an achievement for her age. Around 1:00, I was sitting at my desk, having not accomplished much, when I heard Gwen enter the house and go straight upstairs. I quickly ran up to find her laying in bed. I approached slowly. "Dear, are you alright?" "Yes. i'm fine." "Can I do anything for you?" "Yes. you can explain those stories to me." "Darling, they don't mean anything. I wrote them when I was a teen." "I know. You have a habit of putting the date at the top of the page. The ones in this box in here, were written years ago. This morning I looked at some of the others. The more recent ones. You described the woman in the story exactly like me. I read another and the same thing, right down to the little mole on my butt crack. Do you think of me as a slut? Do you really believe I could or would sleep with someone else?" "NO!! Not at all. They're just fantasies." "You fantasize about me making..uh .. fucking someone else?" The moment of truth arrived. I had to either tell the truth, and possibly ruin my marriage. Or I had to lie, and have a marriage based on dishonesty, if it survived. I hung my head, and replied "Sometimes." "Why? Did I ever give you the impression that I was unsatisfied with our love making? Did I accidentally call out someone else's name in the heat of passion? What ever did I do wrong?" I lay down on the bed beside her, and took her hand. "No! it's not like that. You didn't do anything wrong. You're perfect. It's me. Look dear, I got interested in porn when I was a kid. Then .. well, you remember my friend Mike Buchanan, we called him Button Buchanan?" "Yes, he was cute as a button." "Well, maybe, but that isn't why we called him button. Mike had the smallest dick I ever saw. In gym, even after a hot shower, when everyone else's was swinging about, his looked like a button on his groin. We used to kid him and ask if we pushed it, would a light come on somewhere. Anyway, about the time I started to write porn, his mom left his dad for another man. We all suspected that Button took after his dad in that regard. So, anyone would have had a bigger dick and that his mom found someone who did. Though we weren't cruel enough to tell Button our suspicions. "So, all this happened around the same time I got into porn. Reading stories where wives slept with men who had big cocks, and really enjoyed the difference from their husband's smaller dicks. It became my favorite theme in my reading and my writing. "Then, I met the most wonderful woman on the planet. As you well know, I am not the most gifted man, and I want you to have the most pleasure possible, so it kinda became a big fantasy for me." "Let me get this straight. You WANT me to sleep with someone else. Someone who has a bigger pen... cock than you?" I was afraid she was going to ask that. "No! .. Well, yes... but no. The thought of you with someone else makes me crazy. I couldn't stand to lose you. At the same time, when I'm fantasizing, my favorite turn on is knowing that you are being pleasured to the utmost a woman can be. Men put more emphasis on size. To us, the bigger we are, the better we can fuck your brains out." "Darling, I love you, and your penis. It isn't small. It fits me just fine." "I know it isn't small, but it isn't large either. Any good wife would say what you just said. That's what I meant about you being perfect." "In the story I read this morning, the other man's name was Roy. Is he a real person?" "Well, actually his real name is Ray, not Roy. It's Ray Flannery. He was the polar opposite of Button. We call him Rocket Ray. Not because he could run fast. He had the biggest cock in school, and the head of it was kinda crimson, and he has that same red hair as on his head. We just kinda figured when it was hard, it would look like a rocket." Gwen laughed for the first time in two days. I was so relieved. "So, Ray has a big cock? No wonder Gina is always smiling." she kidded. I hope. "These fantasies, when do you have them?" "Whenever I jer... uh .. just whenever." I had answered too quickly. I was just so happy she didn't seem to be as mad at me. "You started to say 'jerk off" ..right?" Busted. Damn. "Do you masturbate, Robert? When?" "Well, mostly in the shower, or when you aren't at home and the need strikes. Men masturebate, dear. What can I say?" "Do you think about other men fucking me when we make love?" Oh shit. Another question I was afraid she would ask. "Sometimes. When we have a morning quickie. It makes me cum faster. I just imagine you with a large cock plowing your beautiful pussy, making you scream in orgasm. Yep that usually does it." Damn, now I had a hard on and she is going to notice and then I will be in deep shit again. She got out of bed and went downstairs, returning in just a minute. She had a stack of stories in her hand. "Here. Read this to me." she said handing me one of my newer ones. She got undressed as I started to read. Then she lay down beside me. As I got to the part of the story where the wife saw a big cock for the first time, I glanced at Gwen. She had two fingers of her right hand pumping her pussy, and her left hand was working her clit. I was so startled I went silent. "Don't stop!" she groaned as she pummeled her pussy. I kept reading, trying to watch the action out or the corner of my eye at the same time. Then I reached the point in the story describing the way the lover's large cock stretched and filled the wife's pussy. Gwen was moaning, and sort of thrashing about. When the wife tells her lover how much she loves his big cock, and that he is a better lover than her husband, Gwen went apeshit. She screamed out an orgasm like I have never heard. Damn.. I am either a really good reader, or a really good writer. Either way, she got off on it. This looked like a good time to complete the make up, with a little 'make up sex'. I leaned over and took her nipple in my mouth, put my hand on her adorable tummy, and started working my way down. She pushed my head between her legs, and just as I started oral stimulation, she said "Clean me up." I wasn't sure if she meant of her juices or her imaginary lover. I have never had a desire to suck another man's sperm from my wife's pussy, although on occasion I have tasted mine there. Then again... there wasn't any there, so I dived in. After all, I'm still trying to get out of the doghouse. I licked and sucked her to another orgasm, then mounted her. She wrapped her legs around my ass, and her arms around my chest, and pulled me into her embrace. I gave her about ten strokes, when she whispered in my ear "Am I too loose? He was so big and hard." I erupted immediately. My wife is a wonderful person, but as I discovered just then, she doesn't fight fair. She departed for the bathroom, leaving me there wondering what just happened. She came out ten minutes later, already redressed for work. She left without a word. I decided I was probably still up shit creek, so I cooked a nice dinner for us. Chicken Parmesan, with pasta marinara, and an endive salad with balsamic vinaigrette and blue cheese and walnuts. Sounds weird, but tastes great. I topped it off with a nice wine and of course candle light. She came in just as I poured the wine. As she sat down, I started the fireplace and the soft music. You can see, I was really trying to dig myself out of the hole I had put myself in. We ate in silence. I just could not read her mood. When she finished, she said "That was very nice." and left the room. Damn! Still in the fucking doghouse. I cleaned up the kitchen, then headed upstairs. She was already in bed. I had my shower and returned to the bedroom. She handed me a story and just said "Read." She had just a sheet covering her, so I slid naked under the sheet, I could see that she was naked as well. The story she had given me, was about a woman who wanted to get pregnant. Fertility issues ensued, she decided to get her husband's similar looking cousin to do the honors. As the story unfolded, Gwen started masturbating again. Only this time, she did herself with her left hand, and me with her right. I had jerked off thousands of times while reading porn, but this was different. Very nice, but different. Eventually I came to the part in the story where the wife mates with the big cocked cousin. The wife was enjoying the experience more than she had expected. When the wife reached her first ever orgasm through intercourse, she screamed at the cousin, "I love your cock. Cum in me. Give me your baby." Gwen moaned in orgasm as well. That of course sent me over the edge, and I unloaded all over myself and the sheets and Gwen's hand. My wife simply wiped her hand off on my side of the sheet, turned over, and said "Good night." What the hell? The next night was a repeat. Finally, on Saturday, she said "Let's talk." We sat on the patio with a cold drink in our hands. "Dear, I have to admit, the stories are very, shall we say... stimulating. I haven't ever masturbated in front of someone. But I have to tell you, I will never sleep with another man. I love you and only you. I love you and your little cock not just your cock. Because of this love, I am willing to make lots of sacrifices.. My body is yours to use for your pleasure. I give it willingly to you. That does not mean that you can share it. If you want to play dress up.. I will go get my cheerleader outfit. If you want anal sex, I will get the lube. I will let YOU and only YOU, do whatever you want to me. But, I will not sleep with another man. "I have given this a lot of thought, and I have to admit that the fantasy is very nice. I am like most women, I too have fantasized about a well hung stud pounding my pussy, as you so aptly put it. These last few days, really brought to my attention how you feel about yourself. I know that you want this for me, not yourself. But I don't need or want another man. " I sat and listened, absorbing all she had to say. "I don't want you to have another man either. The thought drives me insane with hurt and jealousy. I know I couldn't actually deal with you fucking someone else. That being said, I just love you so much, and I want the best for you. If you ever decide that I am not doing it for you, I am willing to let you seek pleasure elsewhere. It would kill me, but if it's what you need, then do it." That night, as we lay down, she handed me another story. "Read." was all she said. I was dumbfounded. I thought we had gotten over this. As I read, she pulled a plastic bag out of the bedside table drawer. I was shocked to see a very lifelike dildo come out of the bag, followed by some lube. This thing was probably eight inches long, and about six inches around. I continued to read, as I watched her put lube on the rubber cock. When I reached the high point of the story, she handed it to me, and turned around on the bed so that her pussy was right near my face. "His name is Ray." I placed 'Ray' at her opening and pushed until the fat knob popped in. Gwen let out a grunt, "Take it easy, Ray, I have never had a cock this big before." This thing was large and anatomically correct. Complete with bulging veins and a ball sack at the bottom. I slowly fed 'Ray' into her pussy, gradually going deeper and deeper. She seem to be liking it. I got to about the seven inch mark, and realized she had taken more than I had ever given her. She was moaning and thrashing about so that I could hardly keep up with her movements. I continued to go deeper. until I had the ball sack bumping against her clit. She went nuts and roared. I thought I would have some explaining to do to the neighbors. She convulsed and seem to pass out. I withdrew 'Ray' from her clinging pussy. He was covered in her juices. Porn Writer After a couple of minutes, I asked "Are you alright?" "Oh yeah. I'm better than alright. I'm great!" She grabbed my rock hard cock and pulled it toward her pussy. I sure wasn't going to argue, a lady wants what a lady wants. As I sunk into her heated snatch I was struck at how open it was. I pumped her a few times, before she said "Am I too loose? My lover has a very large cock. It felt so good in me." I lost it. I felt like Mount Vesuvius, pouring molten lava into her. This all happened twenty five years and two children ago. In those years, she has never slept with anyone else, and I haven't asked her to. We still play with 'Ray' maybe once a month. Either I, or she, will just invite 'Ray' to join us. Occasionally, we will be at a party, she will have a few drinks, then she or I will say "Honey we should go..I think Ray is dropping by." We have since added several new 'Rays' to our collection. The latest being a strapon extension sleeve. My dick fits inside perfectly and now I can give her eight inches.