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Who Knew

By: jusduit



A New York City Apartment

Marla D. Deering, born Marla Darling Dexter, was bored. She slumped in the luxuriously over-stuffed chair and frowned at her loneliness. Her life had gone from an exciting and liberating string of clubs and one night stands to endless days at home and one familiar "stand" per week. Her old friends never called and she longed for their jibing and teasing about her previous lifestyle. She'd married one of those very special ones she'd met, and didn't regret a single thing about her man, but she was seriously unfulfilled with just him. Perhaps there was no man who could ever keep her happy. And now that she was married, it seemed her entire previous life, friends and family alike, were gone. Her only friend now, in the long daytime hours and the several nights alone each week, was a box, filled with imitating, stimulating, only somewhat exhilarating tools to help her stay afloat in her dismal sea of gloom. Life suddenly sucked.

She was confused too, on top of the loneliness. How could this be? Mark had been such a great lover before their marriage. He had never failed to satisfy her when they made love, and he'd never been far from her side all during their short courtship in her apartment. She'd asked him to move in and he'd done so, under the agreement that anything longer term would be taking place in his apartment, not hers. His was bigger, on the upper east side, and closer to his job in New York. She was to quit her job on Long Island, for he made a lot of money in the city and this would enable them to be together before and after work more quickly, and even during lunch. What they both failed to recognize was that his business, advertising, kept him late most nights he was in town, and required he visit his two biggest clients each week. One was in California, and the other in Texas. Mark was good about coordinating them both to occur on the same trip, a regular run to California on Tuesday mornings, back to Houston on Wednesday morning, and then back to New York on Thursday morning. He invariably had too much to do as a result of being away for two and a half days so he usually went right to the office from Laguardia and came home to the apartment after eight again that night. The result was that they saw, it seemed to Marla, even less of each other than before. How could that be, she asked herself for the ten thousandth time.

Did he not care for her anymore? Was he seeing someone else? Had she suddenly become less than attractive? Had she done something wrong? Marla examined the circumstances befalling her again and again, each lonely moment without him, and always came to the same conclusion. She felt he had lost his urge to go out of his way for her, now that he could rely on her being home when he got there. He had taken her for granted. It was his fault. It had to be. She hadn't changed a bit, damnit. This could not be laid off on her. Her body was still as hot, as voluptuous, as firm as it was a year ago. She still wore all the slinky and revealing underwear, all the clinging lingerie, the perfume she had always worn. She still prepared herself for his every return to their home, just as she had before they were married. And now, she didn't even go out with anyone else of course. She saved her every sensuous nerve ending just for Mark. 

She was his slave, for sex or anything else. And yet, she sat for the umpteenth time, alone, wanting, beginning to nervously squirm once again at thoughts of her husband in bed, and the many more men she wished she still had to fulfill her life. This could not go on.

Flight 24, New York to Los Angeles

Mark Deering boarded the Tuesday morning flight to Los Angeles International Airport. He found his first class seat in the First Class section and easily lifted his small suitcase to the overhead bin. Despite his obvious lack of need for help, he felt the impression of what could only be a pair of large breasts into his back. 

"Can I help you?" Came the voice, soft and somewhat low in pitch. 

Mark turned inside the woman's arms, outstretched as if to reach up to the bag. When he faced her, she let her arms linger just a little longer than necessary, before smiling devilishly and withdrawing. She dropped her arms, and her forehead as if shy and suddenly embarrassed.

"Maybe later," Mark said, smiling back and winking before he bent to fold himself into his seat. 

The flight attendant stepped up to the side of his aisle seat, reached above him, and slowly closed the bin door. The view this gave the man in 2A was just what she had wanted to give.

Mark was suddenly flipped on like a switch. Her thighs were just beside his face, her short skirt hiked way up to reveal the top of her hose, and what had to be the last piece of her thighs before they joined. Had he dropped just slightly in his seat, he would be able to catch a glimpse. He did.

Elizabeth Langer looked down for a second while she falsely made as if to push again on a too big bag to cram it into the confined space of the overhead bin. She knew already what she would see, and was delighted to be right once again. The Tuesday regular was hunched down slightly in his seat, his face inches from her mound, and suddenly dropping a couple inches further to get a good look. She took a deep breath as she looked back up at the bin and closed its door. One last trick she used in this little act was to fake a sudden release of the bin as if she'd lost her balance and let her torso move forward, pushing her mound right into the man's face. She let her left hand come down on the seat back to the passenger's left, and her right on the seat beside him too. This resulted in her ample breasts, made to appear even larger as they hung down in their sheer bra, suddenly hanging directly in front of Mark's face. She accompanied the "fall" with a muffled, "Oh!"

Mark couldn't resist her breasts anymore than he could resist her thighs and what lurked between them. He leaned his head forward while raising both hands in a "natural" effort to "support" her in her fall. They were both pleased with the results: Mark got his "feels" and Beth felt the man's hands on her stiff nippled breasts. It was all of course, a well orchestrated personal greeting played out many times before. She couldn't wait.

Back in the New York City Apartment

Marla rose from her heavily cushioned nest and walked slowly to the bedroom. They lived in an apartment with a terrace overlooking 84th street, facing south, and she walked by the living room windows without so much as thinking about their curtains being open. She was already in her workout clothes, ready to go to the gym, but the sensations raging in her body were too much to resist. She had to take care of things that needed taking care of, now.

Pulling her loose fitting top over her head as she entered the bedroom, she noticed now that the curtains were open here too. She had left them that way as she had readied to leave only minutes ago. The light was the last ingredient to waking up in the morning. It validated the day and took great advantage of their south facing apartment's windows.

She stopped suddenly however, realizing she had just bared her sports bra to all who might look from the building across 84th street. Thoughts began racing through her mind, thoughts new to her, provocative thoughts, dangerous thoughts as well. Why not leave the curtains open? 

She stood there for several minutes considering what she was going to do. She began rationalizing the idea by saying that there were probably no men home at this time of day. Only women would see her, if anyone at all. That didn't bother her. She had been in far too many gyms and locker rooms and dressed and undressed completely in the full view of other women to care at all. The only thing that had ever bothered her in the least, and this not very much, was how the women all seemed to gawk at her lovely body and long waving red hair. 

Marla made her decision and turned abruptly on her heel and faced the bathroom. She waited there for a moment and then slipped a thumb under her gym shorts on either hip, pushing them down slowly to the floor. She could have let them fall once they had cleared the widest portion of her hips, but she wanted to feel sexy, to feel vulnerable, to perform for the curtainless windows. Her movement brought her head down below her hips as she pushed the shorts all the way to the floor. 

She had not showered yet this morning and could smell herself. Her pussy was already "sweating" and had made its presence known to her in the form of her scent. It intoxicated her embarrassingly, taunting her to touch herself. But she wanted to extend her pleasure. There was no hurry.

Marla could have simply lifted her feet from the discarded garment too, but that longing feeling for something stirring was grasping her more and more tightly the more she complied with its wishes. She bent a knee and lifted one ankle from her shorts, placing it back down on top of them. A similar procedure took place with the other foot and the shorts were free of her body. 

She rose to a standing position. As if to check to see if anyone was looking, she glanced over her shoulder at the windows. There were no eyes she could see. There were no naked men standing in a window, masturbating to her show. There were not even any women watching, no one at all. She was still alone, still unsatisfied, still very lonely. The windows looked back however, all the while keeping hope alive that someone might just see her from beyond, and that much alone gave her inspiration to continue.

Marla flipped her hair back over her head and fluffed and smoothed it down with her hands. She couldn't help but look down at her breasts. They were severely restrained in her sports bra and needed some care, some massaging, some attention. The decision was made, the next act defined. She was going through with this little episode of exhibitionism and without regard to repercussions. If anything happened, anyone said anything, she could easily talk her way out of any contentions that she was a nymphomaniac or otherwise deviant person. This was truly the first time she had ever done this. There was no way anyone could point to repeated behavior and have her thrown out of the building. And besides, there was no one looking. She had seen that for herself. She would try this once and see just what affect it had on her.

Marla looked down at her feet and kicked her shorts up to the bed with a flare. They landed on the edge but held there. In the process, she had turned herself about ninety degrees toward the bed. She could look to her right now to see out the window, but she refused to interrupt her actions. First one hand and then the other went behind her and up to the clasp on her sports bra. She preferred this style to the one piece stretch over's. Her fingers fumbled with the familiar mechanism, a bit more than normal, reminding her she was doing something quite different and maybe bolder than ever before. 

Finally, the hooks were free and the bra unlatched. Though she was tempted again to look out the window, she refrained and slowly slipped the straps over her shoulders while looking forward at the head of the bed. Letting the bra fall down her arms, she caught it just before it fell completely free and flicked it over to join her shorts on the bed. The blatant act of exposure excited her. She felt the coolness of the air on her bare breasts and it tickled her nipples to an even harder state.

Not knowing what to do next, she decided to let her arms down to her sides. This felt good, liberating, even daring, but unfulfilling. She slid them slowly in front of her thighs and around further to the insides. Drawing them slowly upward, she allowed them to caress her swelling vulva briefly on their way up to her stomach. Marla let them roam on her soft skin for a moment or two before resuming their upward travel toward her breasts. 

She first cupped her breasts, held them outward toward the bed, as if to offer them to an imaginary lover in the sheets before her. Certainly if there was anyone looking on, they would be thinking surely there must be someone there, though they would be hard pressed to find him.

Marla then felt compelled to suck her own nipples. She lifted her right breast and forced it upward almost to the point of discomfort before her lips and tongue could reach the turgid nipple. She devoured it. She only now realized how horny this display of herself to the world was making her. When her lips surrounded her nipple, the suction seemed to come from somewhere else it was so fast, hard and furious. She felt the release all the way down to her melting pussy. She could now recognize that the juices had all this time been pent up inside her, pushing at her thong assisted and swollen pussy lips, waiting for the right moment to release and flood down her legs. That moment was now and all possibility of stopping her bedroom window show was gone.

At Thirty-Five Thousand Feet

The flight to Los Angeles was uneventful except of course for the little games Elizabeth seemed compelled to play. She was a great lay on his trips to California, and though he soon tired of the repetitive nature of their foreplay on the plane, this being her regular route, the sex was worth it. 

They had met on this very flight just three months ago when she spilled coffee on his lap. She already had eyes on him, having seen him on each Tuesday of her first three weeks on the new schedule. She had been determined to meet him somehow despite his apparent disinterest. Each time he'd boarded the flight he'd had coffee and a Danish, only to melt into his work for the rest of the flight. He had never approached her and she refused to put much stock in the wedding ring he wore on his left hand.

He had impressed her immensely with his black slick hair, always perfect in its display, and his tall figure. He obviously worked out and she couldn't help but wonder what the man was like in bed, probably an animal. She fantasized that she would somehow be one with him, know him carnally. On that fateful morning three months ago, she had been thrown into that chance meeting when she truly did spill his coffee. She had been walking toward him with the preflight beverage, examining his entire body yet again that morning. The plane was taxiing toward the runway but the Captain had not yet given the "Prepare for takeoff," warning. She would continue with her service until that came.

When she leaned down and over his body to put the coffee in the receptacle on the arm rest between his and the empty seat beside him, the Captain had seen fit to first hit the brakes, which she was able to sustain, but then let them go just as quickly, which she was not prepared for. The result was she pushed herself, more than was thrown, back into the chest of the object of her desires, and the hot coffee poured directly onto his cock and balls. His suit was soaked, but his inhale at the pain of the hot liquid making its contact with his privates nearly made him scream.

All Beth could do was freeze. She remained over his body, one hand holding her up by bracing on his shoulder, and the other hand holding the empty cup, upside down, over his lap. His eyes squinted, then opened, and looked down at the damage. The coffee's temperature was not enough to burn, only to inflict that instant pain that lingered only as long as it cooled to body temperature. He found himself looking into her eyes for the first time. "You're sure it's good to the last drop are you?" He looked down at his lap again.

Beth looked down too and realized she was holding the empty cup in an upturned position, directly over his loins. As if to emphasize the point, one last drip fell from the cup to his pants and disappeared quickly into the existing stain. She bolted upright. "I am so sorry! Oh my God! This never happened before! I am so…"

"Flight attendants, take your seats please for takeoff," The intercom sounded.

Beth looked up at the cockpit door, then back at her injured passenger and was for the first time on the job, confused as to what to do next. Fortunately, the man saw her confusion and said graciously, "It's all right. Go do your thing. I'll be safe here till I can get up." He smiled at her and couldn't help but look at her intently for the first time.

She was blond with long hair, obviously bleached or colored or whatever women do to become more gorgeous than they need to be. She was built like the Grand Tetons, her breasts standing out like they were stone cold and hard. Her waist was trim though not too small and her ass was just, well, abundant. He could get lost in that flesh for days, he thought.

Right now however, he had a different problem and that was trying to salvage his suit for the meetings he had as soon as he arrived in LA. The plane took off and soon reached cruising altitude. The entire time this took, the flight attendant kept poking her head up to see if he was ok and if there was anything she could do for him. He simply smiled each time and she kept hoping. This was either going to be a black mark on her record, a non-event she would soon write off to "Things that could have been," or the opportunity she'd been looking for.

Once the seat belt sign had been extinguished, Beth was up and immediately at his side. "We have to get those stains out quickly. You probably don't have another suit, do you?" 

Mark liked to travel on these regular trips as light as possible. He had extra shirts and ties and all the underwear he needed, but the suit was a loner. There was no other, and he didn't relish having to buy something casual and embarrass himself in front of his client. Each time he'd spilled coffee in the past, he'd done what mothers all over the world teach their sons, club soda and towel it dry. He looked up at the red faced flight attendant and asked, "Do you have any Club Soda?"

She said, "Of course! But how will you…?"

He cut her off. "I'm not. You are. Come on, I'll show you." His last three words had turned her inside out. At first she'd thought he was about to berate her, and suddenly he was acting and winking like they were co-conspirators. She followed him to the First Class lavatory. 

"I'm gonna take these off, and pass them to you. You can try the club soda, blot them dry as you can, and pass them back to me. Surely they'll dry before we get to California." He smiled as he backed into the small lavatory and pushed the bi-fold door closed on her. He removed his shoes and then pants, leaving the wallet and money inside. He would see if that might tell him something later. Then he pulled the doors open and handed his pants to the flight attendant. 

She couldn't help but look down at his groin. The doors had been pulled completely open, not trying to hide anything. She could instantly see his semi-bikini under pants, black, also wet with the coffee. She flinched at the thought of the hot brew hurting that seemingly huge and precious lump under the material.

Mark saw her squint and smiled at her. "Don't worry. No permanent damage."

She felt some relief and asked, holding the door open, unable to take her eyes of his sexual parts, "Do you want me to, ah, do those, ah…."

He smiled at her stumbling and said, "Naw. I'll just take 'em off." He pushed the door shut again and waited a full fifteen minutes before she knocked. Now he was toying with her.

"Uh, Mr. Deering?" The voice asked hesitantly.

Hmmmm, he thought. She might have had his name on the manifest. No proof yet.

"Yes. Are they ready?" He asked politely.

At first, she was going to hand him the pants. But now she realized she had a hunk of a man in her lavatory, with no pants on, and her mind was spinning with fantasies. "Yes, I do have them. They are still wet though…."


Who Knew



Three times a week, I go to a gym after work -- one, to work off stress of the day and two, to keep in shape.

One night after work, I stopped by the gym and went through a serious workout. The first half, I worked on the lower part of body and the second half on the upper.

After the workout, I was soaked with sweat to I decided to take a shower there before going home. I always try to keep a change of clothes in my locker for such occasions.

The water felt great so I just stood there for about 10 minutes before actually lathering up.

I was about halfway through and was trying to get my back. Without a back brush, it's kind of tough to get at certain parts.

I thought I had achieved success when the bar of soap slipped out of my hand and to the floor and slid over to a guy I had never seen before. As he handed it, he said that he noticed I was struggling with my back and asked if he could be of some assistance.

I thought it was a come on and politely declined and started to work on my back -- struggling as I had been earlier.

He then walked over, took the soap out of my hand and said, "You're never going to get it," and proceeded to wash my back.

Since I no longer had possession of the soap, I conceded and let him work on my back. After a few minutes I was starting to get aroused and had him stop. I thanked him, rinsed off, dried myself, got dressed and headed home.

For the rest of the night, I tried to clear my mind of what happened in the shower. I had never, repeat NEVER, had any interest of doing anything with a guy and was sure I didn't want to.

After a couple of hours of trying to clear my head, I turned on the television and decided to watch the news. That seemed to work as I was getting tired and headed off to bed.

However, the minute my head hit the pillow my thoughts were back at the gym. And the more I tried to think of something else, the harder, no pun intended, it became to forget about it.

I finally decided to head to the bathroom and jack off, thinking that might ease the situation. 

After I came, I laid down and closed my eyes. Back to the gym my thoughts went. After about 2 ½ hours of this, I finally dozed off.

The next day at work was miserable, having only gotten three hours of sleep. After work, I headed home and laid down. It didn't take me long to go to sleep.

This happened on a Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday was my day at the gym. I couldn't go that day. If I saw him, I wouldn't be able to concentrate and no telling what might arise.

I couldn't think of anything to do to occupy my time. Three times a week, the gym occupied two hours every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

It took about two months before I returned to the gym. I had to because the lack of exercise was beginning to take effect.

It was a Monday and I nervously walked through the doors. I glanced around the gym and didn't see him so I proceeded to go through my workout. After the workout, I headed home.

On Wednesday, I returned to the gym and he wasn't there. I was beginning to wonder what I was so nervous about. I was relieved.

So for the next two months, life went about as before - work 9-5, go to the gym three times a week, an occasionally shower. The one day...

I saw him walk in and I tried not to make eye contact. He looked at me and just walked by. I thought, "Maybe he's forgotten about me." After my workout, I went home.

Two weeks later, I finished my workout and decided to take a shower. Halfway through, he walked in. I was embarrassed and turned away. Then I said to myself, "What are you fucking afraid of?"

I finished my shower and went to get a bite to eat, then home.

The next time I went to the gym, he was there again but I paid him no mind. During the workout, he came and sat at the bench next to mine.

We were going through several apparatuses when he stopped and asked, "Aren't you the guy that I helped out with that back problem?"

I nearly dropped the bar on my throat. I didn't look at him but I admitted to him I was. He stuck out his right hand and said, "Name's Marty." 

"Adam."

We continued to work out and even spotted for each other. Afterwards, I headed to the shower and thought he was headed home. After a few minutes, Marty walked in and over to the stall next to mine.

When it came to me needing to wash my back, Marty offered his assistance. I held onto my bar of soap but he used his.

Once again, after a few minutes I started to get aroused. This time, Marty kept going and I was getting harder.

All at once, he reached around, lathered hand and all, and grabbed my cock. I swore I jumped 15 feet in the air. I pushed his hand away but he returned it and began stroking.

Then something happened that I didn't expect. I just froze and let him continue. I swear my cock got harder and harder, and his stroking got softer and softer.

The more Marty continued, the more I relaxed until I caught myself leaning into him. He ran his other hand across my forehead and pulled my head into his.

I could feel him getting hard against my ass so my curiosity took over and I reached down and grabbed his cock. It felt gigantic and for some reason, I began stroking him.

"Yes, yes. Feels good doesn't it?" I just moaned and he picked up the pace.

I felt myself getting close to losing my load when he must have sensed it and stopped. It was like jumping into a cold pool of water.

I whipped around and must have had a "what the hell" look on my face.

"You're not ready for this," he said. And with that, he left.

I stood there stunned. I couldn't believe he could just stop like that much less me wanting him to continue.

I dried off and headed out of the shower into the locker room -- but he was gone. I was so pissed and thought "The next time I see him, he was going to hear it."

A month went by, then two then three. What happened to Marty?

I couldn't believe there were times I was missing him. Or was it the experience I was craving?

Then one day, Marty was there. I asked him where he'd been. He said his job takes him out of town for months at a time and he had just returned.

After we worked out, I asked him if he wanted to go get something to eat. He switched it and asked if he wanted to go to his place for drinks.

Wow. His place for drinks? And what else I wondered.

I agreed to his place and we picked up a pizza on the way.

He lived in a three bedroom, two bath colonial that looked right out of the 1920's. I entered the living room and he directed me to the sofa. He came back with a bottle of vodka and two glasses and an ice bucket.

He poured the drinks and turned on the TV. There was a movie on I had never seen before so I got interested in it.

We had been watching the movie and drinking vodka for a while when I had to get up to go to the bathroom. I asked him where it was and he pointed down the hall.

When I stood up, I nearly fell back down. I didn't think I had drank that much. What I didn't realize was Marty had given me a "bottomless glass". 

Marty put his hand on my back to steady me and I headed to the bathroom. I was standing there and noticed myself swaying. I didn't think I was that drunk but I was drinking on a fairly empty stomach.

I made my way back to the sofa and told Marty enough with the vodka.

"If I have much more, I might not be able to control myself," I said.

"Really?" he chirped back.

"Oh shit," I thought. "Wrong statement to make." He just laughed.

So I laid my head back and continued to watch the movie. Soon, my eyes were getting heavy and I closed them. Then I felt Marty's hand rubbing my crotch and getting me hard.

I just laid there and let him do what he wanted. Once he got me hard, he opened my fly and extricated my cock.

He had me rock hard in what seemed like seconds. A few minutes, precum oozed out and he smeared it all over my cock -- and there was a lot of it.

Marty then brought his fingers up to my lips and rubbed them with some of my precum. I had never tasted myself and it wasn't bad.

But Marty just kept running his finger across my lips. So soft. I couldn't believe I open my mouth to allow him to put his finger in.

He began to run his finger in and out of my mouth. He was fucking my mouth with his finger, and I was liking it. He was also scratching my tongue with his finger nail -- what a turn on that was.

As he tried to pull his finger out, I grabbed his wrist and began sucking on his finger.

"Oh. I found something Adam likes," he said.

I just smiled then continue to suck his finger.

He then laid me down across the couch and began taking off my pants. From one year ago to know, I had gone to not even considering doing something with a guy, even thinking it was disgusting, to having a guy wanting to hurry up and get my pants off, and his too.

Once I was naked from the waist down, Marty lowered his mouth onto my cock. It was awesome and he took his sweet time. Up and down, licking and sucking -- even scraping his teeth along the shaft. Every time he did that, I shuddered.

It wasn't long before I was close to cumming and let him know. He then started running his finger inside my ass crack.

What he did next caught me totally off guard. He pushed the tip of one of his fingers inside my hole. Slowly, he pushed it further and further in until he was in all the way to his palm. He waited and then began to pull it out, but stopping just short of full extraction.

Meanwhile, he kept working his magic with his mouth. I had finally had enough and grabbed his head and pulled it down on top of my cock.

He stopped.

"I'm in control," he said. "You just lay there and enjoy it."

With that, he began to push his finger in and out with a little more speed. I was getting finger-fucked by a guy and loving it.

Every once in a while, he would curl his finger and run it along my prostate. That was awesome. I swear my cock would shudder when he did that.

Then he asked me if I was ready to cum and told him yes.

"Tell me to make you cum."

"Marty, make me cum, please?"

With that, he began to thrust his finger faster and pull on my cock harder. He had his timing down to where every time he pulled on my cock, he pulled on his finger. Pushed down on my cock, pushed the finger in.

I was in heaven. I wanted him to go on forever. I had never had anything done like that to me and I was loving it.

He then began to go faster and I knew it wasn't going to be long. I tried to hold back because I knew when I came, I was done for about 20 minutes.

"Cum for me," he said.

And I did. I must have sent out five gallons of cum. I had never cum that hard in my life, or that much.

Marty didn't even try to catch it. He let it spray all over the place. I mean on the sofa, on my shirt, on him...everywhere.

He managed to get some on one of his fingers and brought it to my lips. I just looked at him with a "What's that for?" look.

He rubbed some on my lips and I instinctively liked my lips. A bit salty, but not bad.

He kept scraping more cum up and feeding it to me. And I kept licking it up. My cum, I was eating my cum. And it was good.

Then it hit me. I had just been finger-fucked and given a hand job by a guy. A GUY! AND I WANTED MORE.

I then noticed his finger was still in me and still going through the motion but it felt a little different.

Wait a minute. It wasn't one finger any more. It was two and it felt slick.

"What's on your finger?" I asked.

"I'm putting back in what you pushed out."

He had taken some of my cum and was rubbing it all over my ass hole, and inside.

And I was getting hard again. Just five minutes and I was getting hard again. How is he doing this? I want to know his secret.

He then lifted me up off the couch and sat next to me. Marty then took my hand and place it on his cock. I had felt it that one time but never saw it. It was about 6 inches in length and 1 ½ inches in diameter.

As far as cocks go, it was very nice looking, remembering I have only seen my own up this close.

I was just staring at it with my hand wrapped around it. Then it started to stir and grow some more.

I drew my hand back and Marty grabbed my hand and put it back in place.

It was so soft. I don't know what possessed my to do this but I started to stroke it.

"That's it. Nice and soft. Slow and even," he said.

"I didn't know it could feel this way," I said. "I had never even thought about doing something like this with a guy. Matter of fact, I had even thought it disgusting."

"I could tell you had never had a guy touch you before that day in the shower," Marty said. "The way you started getting hard just by me rubbing your back let me know. I just had to be careful not to go too fast."

By now, his cock had grown to 8 inches and 2 inches in diameter. A small drop of precum had oozed out of his slit. I looked at it for a second or two then leaned over and licked it off.

I had just licked a guy's cock. Oh what the fuck.

I lowered my mouth onto his cock. Marty pulled my head up.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

I just nodded.

"Okay."

And with that, I took him in my mouth and began licking him all over. I tried to go all the way down but I began to gag.

"Take it easy," he said. "You can't just go all out at once."

"How do I do it?"

"Relax your tongue, like this," he said. He opened his mouth and showed me his flat tongue.

"Like this?" I made my tongue as flat as I could get it.

"Try it and see."

I lowered my mouth down and got further than the first time. Marty then put his hand on the back of my head and shoved it down.

I thought I was going to suffocate. He wouldn't let me up. I was having trouble breathing. Then all of a sudden, he was all the way in and I was OK.

"That's it Adam," he said. "Sorry I had to do it that way but it worked."

I was deep throating him and enjoying it. I licked him all over, sucked on him and even nibbled.

He was caressing my head now and twirling my hair. I was oblivious to it. I was loving his cock in my mouth. I couldn't get enough of it.

I hadn't even considered what would happen if I kept this up, and Marty wasn't about to tell me for fear I would stop.

Well, I soon found out. I felt his cock in my mouth swell up and it was then I realized it.

He began shooting his cum and filling my mouth. Even powering his cum down the back of my throat. I tried to get my mouth off him but he held me tight.

Fortunately, for me, he didn't cum for long. When he finished, he let me up. I was pissed.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to cum?"

"You were enjoying yourself and I didn't want to spoil your fun."

He then asked me if I had ever had a girlfriend use a dildo on me.

"Once, in college."

"And you had never thought of doing something with a guy?"

"Nope."

"Well...did you like it."

"It hurt at first, then it got better and I enjoyed," I said. "I even came without touching myself."

"Do you want to know what the real thing feels like?"

"That enormous thing?" I asked. "Now way."

"I'll be gentle," he said. "I promise."

"Yeah. Just like warning me you were about to cum."

"No, I really promise," he said. "If I go too fast, I could do some damage."

I sat there for a little bit, grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a big swig.

"Okay."

So we went to his bedroom and took my shirt off, laid me on my back and pushed my legs up.

"Pull your legs back," he said.

So I grabbed behind my knees and pulled my legs towards me. He then opened up a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a jar of Vasoline. He put a big dab on his finger and worked it into my hole.

"That's a little cold," I said. He just snickered.

"You ready?" he asked.

"I guess so."

He put the head of his cock at the entrance and pushed a little. Nothing bad. Who said it was going to hurt.

He then began pushing a little harder and his head popped in.

HOLY SHIT. PAIN...MAJOR PAIN.

"You okay," he asked.

"Fuck it hurts."

He stopped and just stood there with the head of his cock in my ass. Slowly the pain started to recede.

Every time he pushed further in, the pain returned and every time he stopped until the pain subsided.

Before long, I felt his ball sac on my cheeks. He was all the way in. All 8 inches.

"Well, how does it feel?"

"I feel full."

"Okay, I'm going to start pulling it out," he said. And with that he began. Still a little painful but not as bad.

He got all the way to the end and began pushing in again. The pain was now being replaced with a pleasurable feeling. I closed my eyes and was moaning.

"You enjoying this now?"

"Yes," I said. "Starting to feel good."

He was now picking up the tempo. And I was trying to meet his movements. My cock was also rock hard -- so hard it wasn't moving.

Now he was going faster and I was having a feeling like no other. I was getting fucked by a guy and was in absolute heaven.

He kept it up for what seemed like an hour but it was only about 10 minutes. I could have stayed attached to the end of his cock for the rest of the night.

I felt my cock stirring so I grabbed it and pointed it towards my mouth. But Marty lowered his head and took it in his mouth.

The second the head hit the back of his throat, I exploded. I came and came and came.

Within seconds, he pulled out and began cumming on my stomach.

I watched the cum shoot out of his cock and it was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. I wanted to watch it all night long.

When he finished cumming, took a break. Before we got up off the bed, he laid on top of me and swished around, rubbing his cum all over both of us. He rolled off me and we just laid there. I fell asleep just like that.

Since it was a Friday night, I had nowhere to be in the morning...except where I was.



Who Knew



"That's ok." He said and pulled the doors open.

Beth was smiling when the doors opened, but suddenly agape when she looked down again. He had removed his underwear and his rather large cock was hanging loosely down. She could even see his ball sack hiding behind the limp member. Her jaw dropped slightly and she froze once again.

Mark slowly took the pants from her hand. His idea had proved better than he could have asked. She was totally taken by what she saw, and would probably have joined him then and there if he'd asked. Instead, he put a finger under her chin, smiled at her, and pulled the pants inside before closing the doors. She stood there like a zombie for several minutes before the man came out and practically picker her up to move her aside.

He'd played with her for the rest of the flight, teasing her about lawsuits and how easily she could beat one with her looks in the courtroom. The jokes and banter were amateur, as they usually are between the smitten, and both were buying every word of it. Before the flight was over, she had convinced him to let her join him later, to "finish the cleaning job." They spent the entire night exploring each other's bodies and desires in his hotel room.

And tonight, three months later, as he had on each trip to California in between, he would probably find something new about his own desires as this voluptuous blonde with an insatiable sexual appetite and unlimited imagination exposed him to yet new ways to enjoy uninhibited sex.

New York is Warming Up

Marla lay back on the bed and let the large dildo vibrate in her pussy. It was held there by her own thighs, and its vibrations were driving her through her third orgasm in fifteen minutes. It was helping, but the excitement of the moment was waning, the bed barely visible over the window sills and the action becoming less than unique. She did this all the time when Mark was away. Disrobe, flop on the bed and pop goes the dildo. The increased tantalization of having the curtains open had worn off with the limited view and the moment that had been building was largely lost.

She opened her legs and let the dildo slip out of her slick wet hole. Turning it off, she then brought it to her mouth in a rarer moment of elevated passion and sucked her own juices from it. This helped. She even tried turning it on while it was inserted nearly to her throat. She realized for the first time that with the vibration, it would slide much more easily down her throat if she ever got up the nerve to try it. And suddenly this had to be the time. She slipped the pulsing device back into her cunt, lapped up some more juice, and then opened her mouth fully for its entrance. 

The dildo didn't touch her mouth, tongue or anything else until it bottomed suddenly at the entrance to her throat. Like everything else she ever did on a whim, she suddenly dove in both feet and let the big false prick slip down against, and then slightly into her throat. 

The initial instinct to gag was forced back by the slightly stronger urges to experiment. Marla let the vibrations of the dildo and the lube from her own pussy sink the dildo a little further into her throat. She suddenly realized that after the first contact and pressure, what little pain their was subsided and the new sensations were taking over. She couldn't help but associate this act she was performing with practice for the real thing. Mark would be totally shocked when she performed this exact same lewd act for him and his stiff hot cock. With that vision in her mind, she shoved the dildo a full four inches into her throat. 

Her eyes opened wide at the surprise she had caused herself. She knew in a flash that her breath needed replenishing soon and she would have to eject the dildo any second. A trace of fear entered her mind, one that she would try to pull the dildo from her throat momentarily, only to find it stuck there, to suffocate her to her end. But that fear disappeared quickly when she pulled the dildo back out a half inch or so, reassuring herself she would not suffer the ultimate consequence.

Marla twisted the vibrating device a quarter turn either way, more in experiment than anything else. Then she turned the vibrator off with both hands, looking up from her reclined position as one of her hands held it, and the other twisted the cap end. Without the vibrations there was sudden silence in the room. Her moment of shear satisfaction had somehow snuck up on her and she drifted into that blissful state of an emotional orgasm. She pulled her knees together and alternately pumped them up and down against each other to stimulate the swollen lips of her cunt. They were wet as ever and the sensation of the hot liquid on her inner thighs was exquisite. Her pussy pulsed in its own share of the moment, accenting the feelings emanating from her mouth and throat to her mind.

Marla drifted away. She suddenly found herself wrapped around a real cock, not that of her husband, but of someone else, huge and muscular. He was holding her head firmly to his groin, his cock fully inserted into her throat. He had the power at that moment to end her life if he wanted, and she had given him that power with all her blessing, just so long as he did it with his rock hard, red hot cock. She was lost in the total surrender of her life to this imaginary sexual god.

Thirty-Five Thousand Feet Over Pittsburgh

Beth luxuriated in the sensations brought to her breasts by Mark's hands. She was at work, in full view of a half full First Class cabin of passengers, but blocked just enough by the position of her body to linger for a moment longer while Mark squeezed and kneaded her flesh through her uniform shirt. It was a tantalizing sample of what was to come later, at Mark's hotel if this was to be like most of the rest of the weeks since she'd finally broken the ice with him. Tomorrow, she would be exhausted, barely make her return flight, and satiated sufficiently to last her until next week. This was the very beginning of the best twenty-four hours of her week.

Mark smiled at her, knowing the pleasure she derived from having her very natural, very large breasts fondled by him. Her nipples were sensitive as most women's clits, he'd thought, and when manipulated just right, could vault her into orgasm in whatever position she happened to be in. He knew, if he'd had more time then, he could accomplish this right there in the plane, with her leaning over and dangling her glorious globes in front of him. And all it would take would be the right touch of his hands and fingers. He smiled even broader as he suddenly pinched both nipples hard to wake her from the blissful plane she was ascending to.

She pulled herself up and gave him a mockingly angry smile before placing a hand on his chest and pushing it inward stiffly. Her gazed had shifted to the other passengers but her feet didn't move until she had a chance to dig her nails into Mark's chest for effect. When he squirmed slightly at the pain, she smiled to herself and let go, walking down the isle to another seat.

Mark smiled too, rubbing his skin where Beth had stabbed him with her nails. "That's going to leave a mark," He muttered to himself. But oh how good it was going to feel tonight. He loved her antics in bed. She was vibrant, sexually stimulating beyond any experience he'd ever had, and tireless. Invariably, when they finally quit in the morning, he would have to sleep a couple hours before heading back to the airport for his trip to Houston. 

That was fine by him. Without this kind of relief on these trips, he could never put up with the schedule. The clients stayed on with their firm because of all the tender loving care. The advertising expertise was available anywhere today, but the attention to customer comfort, as Mark referred to it, made all the difference. He made a point of talking to as many of the client's employees as possible and keeping a constant banter going with all who seemed to have some input on the marketing budget. He used the trips to their location to get just a little "face time" with each of those he'd talked to recently on the phone, and to ensure no one else in the chain of decision forgot him. Occasionally, he even brought some proofs and presentations, but that was just an excuse to touch base. The real account management was in the contact, pressing the flesh and connecting faces to the voices. He was terrific at it and he was charged with maintaining the firm's two largest accounts.

Mark laid some papers out on the seat next to him, along with his phone logs. He took some notes on a breast pocket, leather bound pad and planned his days at both clients. This took all of an hour and he still had four more before he landed in California so his mind began to drift. His first thoughts were of his wife. She'd seen him off again that morning with that longing look she always had on Tuesday mornings. What was that? He wondered. They had decent sex, albeit not as often as they used to, but decent all the same. They were in love, but she didn't seem to be anymore interested than he was in expanding their sexual relations. It was part of the reason he enjoyed himself on the road. He would tell himself again and again that he never would have strayed if it hadn't been for Marla's waning interest in sex. He was a virile man and needed more than they were generating at home. He loved her, loved coming home to her, but he also needed that "strange" as he used to term it with male friends at sporting events or out at the bars for the night. There was something more than simply the growing boredom at home, something other than faults with him or his wife. It took on force of compelling urge to continually verify his prowess, his attractiveness to the opposite sex, his deep rooted desire to try new things and love new bodies. It was too strong to fight, more susceptible to management. So he went with the flow and managed his straying like the executive expert he was. And tonight he would benefit from this management once again.

His shoulder, resting slightly into the aisle as he thought, was suddenly jolted forward. Looking up at the offending party, he soon found that the offense was welcomed, and intended to be devious on behalf of the offender. Beth stopped quickly, looked back at her "mistake" and leaned down to coo over the offended passenger once again. The action had become a hallmark of their flights since that first one where she spilled coffee all over his lap. His memory of that flight came back again and he wondered a moment how he still did not know if she had gone through his wallet when she'd cleaned his crotch with Club Soda. He smiled at the memory, and what was coming next.

Beth leaned down feigning concern for her passenger whom she had just bumped violently into. Her right hand went right to his cock and balls, hidden from other passengers' view by her body, and fondled his parts for several seconds. She leaned into his head and pushed a large breast into his face. Then she raised up and was gone as quickly as she'd come. The effect on Mark was always the same – immediate and instinctive pull back, followed by equally immediate longing for more as she departed. The flights never seemed as long as they used to since that coffee spill.

Beth finished her breakfast service in First Class and put the remainder of the dishes and other paraphernalia away. She had probably a half hour before the next round of drinks were to be offered, and three and a half hours of flying time to California. She was feeling antsy. Urges were driving the juices in her cunt to stir. She couldn't help thinking about new things to try with Mark that night, and she was anxious to get through the flight, go to his hotel and check in, and then head for the "head" shops to find something new to play with. Mark would go to his appointments and join her shortly after his obligatory dinner with clients. Then they would party together, for many hours into the night. Entirely new things would happen and be felt the anticipation. This had become their hallmark, to try something new each time they met. There were no bounds at all and sometime she would try something that would test and reaffirm this one sacrosanct rule. Each time she had, the rule had proven in tact. They were really living a dream.

Mark was feeling anxious too. When he thought about it, he realized that he and Marla hadn't had sex in several days, and he was horny to begin with. He also realized that sex with his wife, as good as it was, had no anticipation left. It was mechanical, even though somewhat varied. She liked anything he did to her, but for some reason, knowing what would happen each time, knowing in advance what her reactions would be, took a major part of the enjoyment away. He wasn't moved to the moment. It was difficult for him to articulate. On this plane however, he felt all the anticipation he could. Tonight with Beth would be another memorable occasion and she would soon have him begging for more, while straining to respond. She never failed. He wondered for a moment if Beth could be like that every night, or if it could take place only once a week, with someone new. The thought threatened to drive to deep into his psyche and he dropped it like a brick. Why ruin a good time in the making? He unsnapped his seat belt and proceeded to the galley.

Beth was leaning over the counter, wiping the last bit of water off its top, when she suddenly felt a body hard up against her back side. Hands grappled her breasts and pulled on them hard. The attacker's groin ground into her ass in a near violent attack, threatening to burst his cock through his pants and her skirt and right into her darker hole. He pulled her back to him, straightening her up, and continued to shove his stiff, restrained cock into her crack. When he started kissing and biting her neck she melted into his attack and fell limp in his arms. She didn't know what else to do. She wanted more, but could do nothing in this tiny galley, accessible to anyone who would want to come forward. The situation was hopeless.

Mark's hands left Beth's breasts and slid down her front. They dove deeply into her crotch, pushing the material of her skirt and underlying shirt with them, to penetrate her cloth defenses as far as possible. Though he didn't get much of a "feel" for himself, other than the obvious excitement of being so bold as to try such a lewd act in such a dangerously open place, he did manage to induce heavy wetting in Beth's heating pussy. She wiggled her ass into his crotch and slid her thighs up and down against each other to add to the movements around her slippery crack. She wanted him bad enough right then to risk her job, and yet she knew it was but a fleeting moment of ecstasy and not the right thing to do. She turned stiffly to break his hold on her and face him. "Go to the lavatory. Wait there." She whispered.

Awakening in New York

Suddenly Marla realized how badly she needed air. She pulled the silent cock from her mouth and gasped. The air was cool and refreshing the instant it entered her lungs. Her throat was slightly sore, having been so abused for the first time. She laid back and let her every muscle relax, lapsing back into that "neverland" she had just left, but safely now, without danger to her physically, and certainly with only pleasantness in her mind. That was perhaps the strangest orgasm she had ever had. Her pussy pulsed and came with only the slightest inducement of her thighs rubbing against her puffy lips. The dildo down her throat was now a pillar of vision in her sexual world. That tool represented so many things to her, so suddenly entering her life. It was a cock in fantasy that was punching its way down her throat in a kind of welcomed rape. It was a threatening tool, applied by an unrelenting hand, bent on torture and bringing her to the brink of survival. It was a man's cock, sucked into her deepest inward passage, devoured by her wildest passion and held by her most demented desire. She would never forget this moment.

After an hour of just lying there, she opened her eyes again. Her throat buckled at her intake of air and she felt a slight choke but managed to put it down. It was on the one hand as if she had vomited during a drunken stupor, and yet on another it was as if she had earned her wings at the art of blowing cock. She smiled at the minor pain and looked again at the dildo held in her hand. She was getting hot all over again. This huge member had been lubed in her pussy and shoved down her throat. It was a very special toy now, not one to be forgotten or treated unkindly. It was gaining a personality of its own, one of insatiable sexual demand. It wanted more.

Marla slowly granted the dildo its wish, and inserted it back into her already wet-again cunt. It felt so much smaller now, after making its true bulk known in her mouth. Her pussy simply sucked it in. It felt good, secure, but not enough. 

She pulled the still silent device from her cunt and moved its tip downward, sliding it down her crack until it seated at the entrance to her dark canal. Just the contact made her body jump and she knew she was on to something. She pushed it into the puckered anus slowly, opening the fighting fold, and then withdrew it. She pushed again, a little farther this time, and then withdrew again. She was playing a game with her ass that shed liked to play often. It gave her a much longer experience in the stage of the exquisite, initial pain of entry. It extended the time it took to penetrate her body there, and made the pain excruciating as it could be, but repeated it time after time.

Marla smiled, then opened her mouth. This was going to help a lot. Her mind had forgotten completely about the open curtains, the time of day, and the world she lived in. It all boiled down to these moments here and now, on her bed, with a large dildo knocking on her brown door. Perhaps she should let him in.

Thirty-Five Thousand Feet Above Nebraska

The lavatory door indicator read, "Vacant," but it was not. Beth knew this of course and knocked once before pushing the door open. Mark had remained in there for several minutes, with the door unlatched. If someone had tried to use the lav, they would simply have seen him trying to exit at that moment. If they didn't come, then when Beth entered, it would look normal that she was simply using the facilities. She tried her best to make her entry look as normal as possible, Mark squeezing and contorting, trying his best to stay out of her way. She managed to get in far enough to turn sideways and push the doors closed. They were alone.

She would hear if anyone pushed the flight attendant's button so she wasn't too worried about that. The only risk was if one of the crew came back to use the lavatory and waited, rather than try another lav. It was somewhat of a risk, but not as much as trying something in the middle of the galley. She turned slightly more toward the door and Mark got between it and her, his ass holding it shut even if the latch weren't there.

They kissed first, long and hard and actively. Their tongues interlocked and searched and withdrew often, almost frenetically. They ground their loins together with abandon, it having been a full week since their last coupling. Mark moved his hand to Beth's back and pulled her skirt up to her waist. There was no resistance, only heavy breathing.

Beth pulled one hand down and then the other to undo Mark's pants. He had a belt on, easily undone, and a button and slide clip on his waistband. They came off quickly. His pants dropped to the floor and she immediately surrounded his lengthy shaft with both hands. It felt so good to have him back in her grasp. She slid her hands up slowly, resisting the urgent need to jerk him off like a pump. Then she pushed his cockskin back down, just as slow. He muttered his satisfaction in the form of a guttural grown.




Who Knew



Mark slipped his hands down the back of Beth's panties. The airline didn't like them wearing thongs, and frankly Mark preferred a full panty anyway. Hell, he'd go for good old cotton any day. If women only knew. His hands each contributed a finger to the crack of Beth's ass and traced themselves as far down as they could reach. He managed to touch her sphincter muscle with one finger, and this brought a slight "yelp" from Beth's lungs, but it was muffled in Mark's eager mouth.

The moment was intense for both of them. They weren't doing anything they hadn't done before, but this was their first time on board the plane. The thought that they had to be as silent as possible, that someone could knock in annoyance at the delay at anytime, were enough to double the normal sensations of what they were about. Their continued devouring of each other's tongues was testimony to this.

Mark brought a hand around the front of Beth and began to play with her mound. He slipped it down the front of her panties and played some more. He had the sudden urge to clasp his fingers form both hands and he did so and lifted her right off the floor by her crotch. It must not have hurt for she simply gurgled once again on his tongue and pulled a little harder on his dick.

Mark then withdrew his hands to nearly the elastic band of her panties and suddenly pushed them down. The second they cleared her vulva, her scent was free to waft to his nostrils. He nearly went wild. He loved her smell. She was so sweet, and yet just sharp enough to really drive him wild. He pulled a hand free and then the other and let Beth wiggle her panties the rest of the way to the floor.

She was totally vulnerable now. There was nothing like that feeling, to have nothing between her vaginal assualter and her slick wet hole. The air in the lavatory was cool on her swollen pussy lips and they longed to wrap around her man. They didn't have long to wait.

Mark reached around to her sides and slightly behind her. He raised her up like a twig and set her back down on his cock. Beth was just as eager to mount him and help guide him with her hands. Once that first penetration was successful, her cunt lubricated his cock faster than he could shove it up her hot hole. Each mini thrust got him slicker and wetter and soon they were riding full strokes together, each one driving Mark's turgid cock to the very core of Beth's womb. It was very few strokes like this before they were both brought to the verge of climax.

Mark was first to alert Beth that the time was near. "Oh, baby. I am going to fuck you up. I am going to make you want me so bad tonight you are not gonna be able to wait."

"Oh darling, I am already there. I am flying now and never want to land." She didn't feel the least bit corny in her thoughts.

Mark then told her it was time, "Fuck me baby, fuck me now. Drive that slick wet cunt down my shaft, baby." He kept mumbling something but the both of them began to cum. Mark felt his first big blast drive up from his balls, up the length of his burning shaft, and out the end like a fire hose. He could feel it drive so hard he knew he was making distance inside her womb.

Beth felt the first blast and was amazed at its heat and its force. It pushed her slick and slippery sheath apart to gain further entry into her belly. She was sure if it came just a little more, she could taste its delicious flavor in her mouth. She wanted him more than ever, even in the dying throws of a magnificent climax.

They slowed their pace to a crawl, and then a tight and lasting hug. It was over, but it was only the beginning. There was a whole night ahead of them.

"I think you better leave first," She said. "I have to freshen up." 

Mark nodded and smiled and scooted down to pull up his pants. In a heartbeat he had them secured, looked at his appearance in the mirror, and squeezed past Beth on the way out. There was no one waiting. Mission accomplished, with a bonus.

Beth on the other hand, had a problem. She was dripping and dabbing at it with paper towels. Her pussy was draining a cocktail of her juices and Mark's cum. It wouldn't stop, and that conniving Mark had taken her panties and left. Now she had no way to stop any remaining droplets of cum from running down her leg and out from under her short skirt. She had to stay in the lavatory a bit longer in an effort to clean up. She smiled at his childish prank and dreamed vividly of what she would do to him in LA.

New York Apartments Do Get Warm

Marla hesitated before inserting the hot and well lubricated dildo up her ass. She was so horny now that she wanted to prepare for the inevitable and desperate demand she would face soon – that of increasing the intensity of stimulation beyond what was physically possible. In addition, she had to relieve the rising temperatures in the apartment. Their heat controls were still in effect, despite the winter's last gasps having died out. The air conditioning was not yet on and their only means of controlling the rising, sun-induced temperature was to open a window. She laid the dildo down and took care of that first.

Marla stood in front of the unobstructed view of the window for no more than a second, arm reaching for the latch, when she spotted the man in the apartment across 84th Street. The buildings were no more than a hundred feet apart and her natural eyesight was good enough to see a tall man, broad in shoulders with very short hair, dressed only in his slacks, watching her. There was no doubt about it. She thought she could even make out a smile on his face.

Her immediate instinct was to back away from the window and out of his sight. She was stark naked now and felt more vulnerable than she could remember ever feeling before. The moment was frozen in time. Her mind was in turmoil. Why wasn't she panicking? Why had she not at least backed away from the window? She could have simply closed the curtains as if she hadn't seen him and simply let the incident melt away into the fog of the past. She could have rushed to get her robe, or leave the room. She did none of these things. She stood there, staring right back at the voyeur a hundred feet away and one floor higher than her.

After several minutes, neither person moving, the man suddenly broke the ice. He slowly moved both his hands to his crotch, forming a diamond around zipper area with his thumbs and index fingers. Marla watched, but did not move.

He moved this formation up and down slightly, enough that Marla could see what he was doing. Then she did something she was astounded to realize. She resumed the process of opening the window. The cool air wafted in immediately and she naturally moved her other hand to one of her breasts to massage the suddenly hardening nipple. Why wasn't she moving away from the window? The question kept hitting her, and bouncing right off. She enjoyed what she was doing! She was inciting a stranger to react to her actions, someone she never saw before, someone who simply had watched her playing with her toys. This stranger was so mesmerized by her actions in fact that she caused him to massage his cock and balls, visible to anyone in her own building who might look out their window from her side of the street. This man was taking a risk equal to her own. It gave them a kind of camaraderie, a mutual purpose or goal. 

She pulled her other hand from the window latch and slid it down to her mound, mimicking the man's attention to his own groin. Her breast hand changes breasts and massage the other stiffening nipple while the middle finger of her pussy hand slinked down her crack and touched her clit. Her knees locked as if jolted by an electric shock. When she opened her eyes, she could see the man had pulled down his zipper and had his pants opened in front, his cock and balls visible though far enough away that detail was obscured. Then she noticed him lifting his chin in an unnatural kind of way. It was several such motions of his head before she understood his message. He wanted her to get back on her bed!

Marla turned, smiled broadly to herself, and left the window. For several minutes she rummaged through her "love box" as she and Mark referred to it, and retrieved several of her toys. Placing them on the bed, some near the foot and some near the head, she spent another several minutes in the bathroom before returning to the walk-in closet. Another four minutes passed and finally she emerged, walking straight to the window, and stood there. She nearly panicked again when she saw the man standing where he was, but looking back at her through a pair of binoculars. He was frozen in that position.

Again, Marla had to fight the instinct to bolt and end this madness immediately. She had no idea who this stranger was, what his intentions were, or whether there may even be more such voyeurs looking on. But she held her ground, her feet about shoulder width, hands on her hips and elbows out to the side. Her wavy red hair was flowing out to her shoulders and down below them, some in front and some in back. Her lips were red and glossy, her eye lids brilliant blue and her lashes black and long. 

She was wearing a bra with triangular holes for the nipples and ample flesh to bloom through. She had a garter belt, the same red color of her bra, and to it were fastened red, fishnet stockings. Her stiletto heels raised her off the floor enough that the already low window sill was now down around her knees, revealing all but her shoes to anyone on the other side of the street. She had done her best to degrade her appearance to the lowest level of depravity she could. She looked like a hooker. She felt deliciously like a slut.

The man across the street let one hand down from the binoculars. While the other continued to keep the vision aid in place, that lower hand proceeded to his cock, which was now well outside his pants and pointing up and over Marla's head. He wrapped his fingers slowly around it, being sure to grip it completely and tightly. Then he rocked his hips back, before pulling them forward by pulling on his cock and extending its reach as far out in front of him as he could. He did this twice and then held the outstretched position for several seconds. Finally he relaxed back to a vertical position. 

Was he trying to tell her something? She was sure this was some kind of communication. Perhaps he was showing his appreciation. She then reached down between her panty less legs and performed a diamond framing similar to the one her voyeur had performed before she had changed. 

The immediate reaction was indisputable – his cock waved vigorously left and right. He didn't want this. Before she could contemplate her next move however, the man began thrusting his hips, and cock, forward vigorously. He repeated the action several times to drive his point home, so to speak. 

She thought about this and suddenly connected it to the previous indication she had received from him, to get on the bed. She was ready now, and complied. However, this time, instead of lying from head to foot on the kind sized acreage, she simply backed up until her calves felt the edge of the bed. One last check of her voyeur confirmed that she was complying with his wishes. He was jerking his cock up and down. He was communicating, and she now had four defined signals – cock left and right for "no," cock up and down for "yes," hips rocking through a wide arc forward and back for strong approval, and forward thrusting only for backing up. Already their vocabulary was growing. It gave her enough to work with.

Marla fell back down onto the bed. This was unbelievable. She was about to knowingly perform as sexually explicit and even devious an act as she could conjure up, for a stranger she still did not even know. The thought was as frightening as it was thrilling. Perhaps that is why she had such intense feelings coursing through her at that moment. Nothing else in the world mattered. She was alone with her audience. She was going to torture herself if necessary to give him everything he could ask for, and more. She was slaved to him in her mind, and devoted to his pleasure, and her own. This was a chance to perform every depraved act she could think of. The fear of being seen was suddenly transformed to the fear of not being seen to do anything and everything she possibly do to herself. Her anticipation was intensely peaked and had to be fulfilled.

Thirty-Five Thousand Feet Above the California Border

Beth couldn't help but wiggle her ass in such a way as to force her thighs to massage her pussy lips together. She was standing in the galley, alone, preparing the last round of drinks for the First Class cabin passengers. Her need to get fucked and sucked and drilled in every hole was greater than ever she could remember. That hot hunk of a man she spent every Tuesday night with had stolen her panties! And he wouldn't give them back! She had tried. When it seemed she could not stem the endless flow of cum that he had hosed inside her, she had stepped back to his seat, leaned over as if to straighten something in the seat beside him, and asked, "Please! Can I have my panties back?"

He had smiled up at her as if he were about to comply. But instead, he pulled them half out of the breast pocket of his jacket, smelled the aroma of their owner's wetness drying in their crotch, and pushed them back into his jacket. He continued to look at her as he smiled broadly. "Such service this airline affords. I shall have to complement the pilot." He was teasing and she knew it, but she still had a very practical problem – cum leaking from her cunt.

And now her cunt was also itching, desperate to be penetrated and devoured. She needed him to drop his head between her legs and suck the remaining juices from her boiling pussy and give her the relief she so desperately needed, right now. She was about to plead with him one more time when the unmistakable sensation of the plane commencing its decent moved them both. Mark reached up to brace her completely unnecessarily with both hands cupping her breasts, and Beth looked in total shock and longing into his eyes. "I'm going to get you tonight, Mister." Mark was quite surprised by the venomous nature of her tone of voice.

New York Apartments Face-Off

Marla began by raising her knees and pulling her heels up to the cheeks of her ass. She couldn't help but look to see if the stranger across the street was still there. He was, binoculars still in one hand and his cock in the other. He hadn't moved his position, only his left hand, as he continued to do.

She let her hands search out her breasts and play with them to re-ignite the fire she had started earlier. It took no more than a few seconds before she was beginning to gyrate her hips on the bed. Her pussy needed attention already.

Her right hand slipped down her front to the top of her mound, and then that middle finger again sought out liquid relief. It found it quickly and began a slow insertion and withdrawal process that quickly escalated to two fingers and then three. As she neared her first orgasm, she decided to delay it until later. Though this would have been plenty fun for her by herself, she wanted far more than this for "her man" across the way.

She withdrew her fingers and propped herself up on her elbows. Looking across the street, she could see the man pumping his shaft up and down in approval. So far, so good. She next repeated her action with the dildo and eventually inserted it into her ass. That act, to bring her to where she was before she'd risen earlier, was enough to put her back to the edge and she had to not only refrain from turning on the vibrations, but from any further movement for a couple minutes.

Marla let the device sit without moving. She was amazed at how the previously unfelt sensations were washing over her. It felt huge in her ass, filling her bowels and threatening to burst her open, yet it felt so good she would have killed to keep it where it was. She tilted her head up enough to see if she was getting a reaction from the voyeur and found that he was pumping more than before. "Good," She said aloud, "Now let's see what he thinks of me next."

The second dildo she owned was a double dong of greater length than breadth. It was the size of an average man's cock in diameter, but much longer on each end than any man could be fortunate enough to be. With her mouth, she wetted the tip of one end and began to insert it into her cunt. This was the first time she had inserted something solid in both holes at once and it was not without pain that she finally burst through the vaginal opening and stopped to regain her breath. She looked up once again and saw the man thrusting again, forward and back, pushing his cock way out and then withdrawing. 

Marla interpreted his motion to mean that he wanted her to thrust too. "He's pushy," She smiled. And then she complied. There was nothing she would not do for this man.

The double dildo began to lubricate itself in her vaginal canal as she intermittently pushed it in and then withdrew it. Each consecutive stroke was deeper, wetting more of the tool. Finally it was beginning to bump up against her cervix and she experienced a slight pain, but one well worth feeling for its indication that she was once again victorious over the instrument. She had taken it as far as it could go, and was playing with it when it got there. And she was accomplishing this with the other dildo up her ass the whole time.

At one point, once again on the verge of orgasm, she looked to see if her voyeur was still there, and happy. He was waving with his free hand while looking through the binoculars, obviously trying to get her attention. She stopped her hand's movement and raised a hand in question. The man then pointed to her and motioned that she should prop herself up with her pillows. The hand signals were easy to interpret.

Marla did so and resumed her facing position, heels to her butt cheeks and both holes filled. The man now pointed at her again and then mimicked her previous action with the dildo. Then he pointed at himself and followed by pumping his shaft. The whole thing was so clear it was confusing until his next motion – using his cock hand to mimic his orgasm's cum shooting all over his own window!

"Now I understand!" Marla said allowed, as if talking to him. That is why he wanted her to sit up some, so she could see him shoot. And that is why he wanted her to know when to have her orgasm, for he would join her simultaneously. It was as if they were in the same room. Her mind began to race again, but was interrupted by the voyeur's commencement of his end of the bargain. He was pumping his cock and thrusting his hips in slow motion.

Marla leaned back against the pillows to test their ability to hold her up sufficiently, and decided to adjust them, quickly. Then she settled back, satisfied herself with the view, and began to pump her pussy full of jelly dong, and then withdraw it. She began to repeat the motion in concert with the man's own pace and they slowly increased their action together. Within a few short minutes, they were both nodding their heads they were ready and their orgasms erupted one right after the other. The man was first and shot a huge spurt of white cum up and onto the window before him. It was such a substantial flow that Marla could see it splat on the window. That very moment her own body jolted stiff and her orgasm washed over her like a surfside wave on a hot summer's beach. She went tumbling in the turmoil, never hurting, only giving in to the forces that controlled her. She caught only glimpses of her voyeur still spurting his jism at the window, keeping his orgasm up as long as hers was besieging her.

When they finally subsided, they both collapsed. Marla simply went limp, still facing and watching the man across the street. He on the other hand, fell back into a heavily cushioned chair, letting the binoculars hang from his chest, but never taking his other hand off his cock. Marla could scarcely see the stiff member begin to relax, but the totally satiated position the man was in told her all she needed to know about how he was feeling. 




Who Knew?



The first thing I heard was a loud popping sound. True, I had been in the army during an active campaign, so you'd think I'd recognise the sound for what it was, but I was playing a song in a crowded concert hall and the only thing that came to mind was, "who brings firecrackers to an indoor venue?"

Then something hit me in the shoulder so hard that I spun around careening into the drum riser behind me, knocking over the bass drum and a cymbal on my dizzying journey. I slid to a semi-sitting position, trying to get my bearings.

It was still so unreal that I took the time to unhook my guitar strap and examine the guitar for damage before it even occurred to me to look down at the front of my shirt, it was changing rapidly from the normal white to a crimson red.

I guess I was in shock because even then it didn't seem to connect that it was my blood. My shoulder felt like it was on fire, and I felt sick to my stomach. I tried to stand up but was having trouble with balance and so I abandoned that idea. 

The whole world seemed to be really bright, loud and totally still. I looked out at the audience, I could only see the few first rows but almost everyone had looks of horror frozen on their faces, and screams were coming from somewhere but no one seemed to be moving.

My drummer, Paul, came out from behind the wreckage of his equipment tearing off his tshirt as he ran towards me in slow motion. 

At the same time a figure came from somewhere off stage and strode toward me with great purpose, holding a gun aimed at my head. It was then that I finally caught on that I had been shot. 

Paul had his back to the gun holder and didn't see the approach as he bent over me pressing his shirt into my shoulder, when I saw the gun raise to Paul's head I kicked Paul square in the shins knocking him out of the way. 

As he toppled over the gun holder knelt in front of me, putting the gun to my head. I felt the cold metal against my temple and all will left me. I didn't try to push it away; I just closed my eyes waiting for it, I knew I was in no position to fight and so I accepted the inevitable. I was sort of disappointed that my whole life didn't flash before my eyes as I waited for that last click.

I heard a jarring clang right in my ear and opened my eyes to see Paul standing over a prone figure holding a cymbal like a Frisbee. Just then security finally made a move and rushed the stage. Some veered off towards me, and other swarmed the person who had fired the shot. 

Paul sat down next to me again pressing his shirt hard against my shoulder, and said something. His voice sounded like the adults on the Peanuts TV specials; I had to really concentrate to try to understand what he was saying. He repeated it and I wasn't able to get a word of it, it struck me as really funny and I started to laugh.

I was now surrounded by my band and security; they formed a tight ring around me. That too struck me as hilarious as they all had distorted fun house mirror faces. 

By the time the paramedics arrived I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. I was lifted up, strapped onto a gurney and loaded into the ambulance before I finally lost consciousness.

But let me rewind a bit. 

It had been a pretty incredible year, I had recorded and released my first album and beyond my wildest expectations it shot to the top of the charts. The minute it did, I hit the road touring to support it. 

I was totally unprepared for the trappings that come with sudden fame. My every move was recorded in the tabloids; unflattering pictures, rumours and scandal seemed to be the rule of the day. My girlfriend of two years had bought into the shit they wrote about me and left me over yet another story of my supposed flings with this or that starlet.

Another side of fame that I hadn't ever really considered was the stalker. I had at least one that I was aware of. It started out pretty mildly. Love letters, flowers sent to me care of that night's concert venue, the promise to see every show on the tour. Then the gifts became more lavish, the letters more desperate, a bit more intimate and then vaguely threatening.

Still, it didn't really alarm me. I would shrug it off as an overly active imagination on this person's part and didn't give it a lot of thought. My tour manager, Robert, tried to warn me that this person was most likely unhinged, and as I found out later, sometimes he would intercept the letters or gifts, not passing them on to me at all.

That fact would become very important.

The day I got shot started out pretty much the same as most days on this tour. I made the rounds of radio stations doing promo work, and all that stuff that my manager loves to schedule me to do.

It was unusual to have most of the afternoon to myself. I had lunch with Paul, in the restaurant at that night's hotel. He and I had just become lovers, but he knew I was still very much into women. For some reason our intimate meal was not going as I had hoped.

I caught him staring at me a few times, and wanted to think he was gazing at me with love, or even lust, but I could tell he had something on his mind. Finally my capacity for denial had been reached, "OK spill it. You've been very quiet all day, is there something you want to talk about?"

"Yeah, I was just wondering where you see this all going, boss?" he said, taking a pause to drink some water, "I mean we have only one more show, tonight, then we're not going to see each other until you start recording again."

My mind was whirling, what I wanted to say I couldn't really find the words for. I respected him as a musician, enjoyed him as a friend, and as a lover, but this was my first same-sex relationship. Did I love Paul? I didn't honestly have an answer to that. 

He waited for me to say something, anything. After a few minutes he leaned in very closely, and in an almost whisper said, "If this is it, just tell me. I won't pretend I will not be hurt, but if you don't want to be my lover anymore, say so. Don't keep me hanging here."

"I really care for you...." I started to say, but he put his hand on my mouth stopping me.

"But you're not in love with me." He finished, and then he sighed sitting back against the booth. 

"I wish I could tell you otherwise, I truly do."

"After today, will I still be in your band?" Paul asked.

"If you want to be."

"I do, but before we go back to being 'just friends' can I make love to you one last time?" he pleaded. 

When we got to his room there was a strange urgent feel to the way he pushed me onto the bed the minute the door was locked, his kisses were more aggressive than they even had been, he hardly left me time to breathe. 

He showed me no mercy, biting me and scratching my skin before I was even undressed; once I was he took no time for foreplay. Next thing I knew I was on my knees in front of him gritting my teeth from his unlubed cock tearing its way into me. He was driving himself into me like he was trying to knock the wind out of me or maybe knock sense into me, either way it was less like being made love to and more like being assaulted. 

After a few minutes he slowed down his attack, and pulled me on my side while still moving in me. His thrusts became slower and he reached around and took my cock in his hand. He shifted himself a bit until he found my prostate and hit it with each thrust home. It seemed like it went on for hours, but then he picked up the pace and we climaxed together. 

This time there was no being held afterwards. He immediately got off the bed once he withdrew and went into the bathroom, shutting the door. I realised after a while that he was not going to come out until after I left, I gathered my clothes, dressed feeling somewhat like a cheap whore.

I didn't see Paul again until it was time for sound check. I got out of the taxi to some gathered fans. I signed a few autographs, posed for a few pictures and was handed a package by one of the women, I tucked it under my arm and went into the venue. Once inside I set the package down on the table in the dressing room and forgot about it. 

I joined the band on the stage, noting that Paul didn't look at me once. I knew that he was still upset so I didn't say anything. 

Once the sound check was over I went back to the dressing room. I think by then the package was gone. Robert came in and said that there were a few people from the local press that wanted to do an interview, so I put on my best performing monkey act and did that.

Afterwards I went out for a smoke, I was near the back exit on the fire escape. I could see some fans hanging around the door, but they couldn't see me. I saw one of them look into a rubbish bin and take something out but I didn't see what she removed. She glanced at the door and then walked off with great purpose. I finished my cigarette and went back in. 

Because this was the last show of this tour most of us had invited friends and family to it. My parents made the trip from England, as did a few close friends. We had a bit of a party before the show and had a massive one planned for afterwards. Robert had reserved the bar down the street for just that and everyone was looking forward to it.

There was also a current of bittersweet for me. I had spent almost an entire year with these guys, and added to that was the ending of my relationship with Paul. I knew in my heart that back in the real world I was not ready to give up women.

The show had a really intense energy that night. Everyone in the band was doing their best, trying to impress their friends and family. I'm sure it was in the back of their minds, as it was mine that it was realistically going to be at least another year before we went back on the road. 

We had started the third song when I was shot. The timing was interesting as it was a song I had written about taking opportunities when they came up, and not letting them pass you by. So the shooter had extra encouragement, I guess.

When I woke up after the shooting, I was encased in bandages from my neck to my waist reminding me of something from a Mummy movie. My mother was sitting in the chair next to the bed, dozed off. 

There's nothing like a brush with death to make you really want a cigarette. I could tell I had been given some sort of painkiller but still sitting up hurt like hell. I was not that out of it to realise that lighting up in the room would be a bad idea, I got to my feet and started removing things that were not inserted into me and that set off an alarm. 

My mother jumped out of her chair and a gaggle of nurses came running into the room pushing a cart. When I removed the heart monitor lead I think they thought I had gone into arrest as one of the nurses had those shocker paddles at the ready. I was just as surprised to see them, as they were to see me standing up. One of the nurses took my arm and ordered me to get back into bed. I complied as quickly as I could keeping an eye on the one with the paddles just in case she decided to administer them out of principal.

Robert visited me later that day; he told me the woman who shot me was the same who had been sending me those letters and gifts. He was very contrite as I found out he had thrown away the package she had handed me and others before it, which is what set her off. 

A week later I was released from the hospital and flew home to England. My mother had not gotten over the fear that I was in danger and nothing would do but I had to stay with her and my dad while I recuperated. It felt really odd to be sleeping in my childhood room after being on the road for a year playing rock star, plus I hadn't lived at home since I was in my late teens, but the quiet was what I needed to regroup.

I could tell I was feeling better when my thoughts turned to sex. I had gone about a month without contact outside my immediate family and a few close friends. I was getting restless and very horny.

The town I grew up in was far from being an exciting mecca for nightlife. The local pub was more given to darts than dancing. I announced at breakfast one morning that I was going to go into London and spend the weekend clubbing. My dad said nothing but I could tell by the grim look he shot my mother that he didn't approve, but he also seemed to understand that I wasn't a child and that he had no real say in the matter. 

As I packed up an overnight case my mom came into my room. She sat on the edge of the window box and reached over to adjust the sling on my arm. "Do you really think this is a good idea?" she ventured.

I gave her as many rational reasons as I could think of, skirting the whole being horny as hell issue of course, which seemed to mollify her a bit. She made me promise to call her when I arrived, and offered to drive me to the train station. 

When I got to London I rang up some old friends and they arranged to meet me at a club that evening. I checked into a hotel and stretched out for a nap so I would be in good form later on.

You know how when you haven't had any alcohol in a while your tolerance is lower? I had spotted some paparazzi earlier and made a mental note to behave myself with them around. But by about my fifth drink at the club I was well and truly drunk off my ass, and had forgotten they were there. I mostly behaved but I still managed to make the next day's tabloids, looking less than wonderful attempting to dance holding a drink in my good hand.

By Saturday evening I didn't care if I was photographed nude with a live skunk on my head I was determined to have a good time. My friends were a bit concerned by my swimming in a liquid medium from the time I got up and the time I passed out but they kept by my side.

After accepting offers from various quarters I found that I didn't want just sex after all, I wanted to be with someone who loved me. Especially when my friends would leave to go home to their wives, or girlfriends and there I was sleeping alone.

Sunday morning I woke up to the worst hang over I had ever had. Even my eyelashes hurt. I felt debauched, and lonely, I just wanted to go back to my parents and hide in the solitude of the country for a few days.

Coming out of the hotel, I had someone shove a copy of my CD into my hands and ask for an autograph, by pure reflex I accepted the pen and asked the name of the person. "Make it out to Paul" he said. 

I started to write on the CD, and then it hit me that the voice was awfully familiar. I looked up and he smiled at me. I handed the CD back to him and I smiled so widely I thought my face would crack. "How did you find me?" I asked.

He held up one of the tabloids and pointed to an article about me, "You look pretty rough in the picture there, boss." 

"I feel pretty rough. Thank you for coming for me." 

He hailed a taxi, "I haven't come yet, but I will." He patted me on the ass as I climbed into the back with him.

Maybe this is what love really is, I thought as I put my head on his shoulder and felt him encircle me in his arms. 

Who knew?



Who Knew?



It was August and I was with my husband and two teenaged kids at my best friend Tracy's neighborhood cook-out / pool party. We don't live in her town, but being friends we were invited. Tracy's kids are older than mine so each of my kids brought a friend, frankly that was the only way I could get them to go.

My names Gloria, we live in the suburbs, I commute daily into Manhattan, I complain about it, but the fact is I could find a job closer to home, but I love my job. I'm in my 40's, work hard to stay in shape and have been complimented on my looks. 

There were about 50 people there when we arrived around 3 PM. Friends and neighbors would come and go throughout the day and into the evening, so there was always someone new to talk with. 

The kids disappeared in the crowd and my husband was playing horseshoes. I was sitting with some people that I knew from other party's that Tracy has hosted over the years. While chatting I had a feeling someone was looking at me and when I turned my head I saw a young man with a sketch pad looking at me and drawing.

"Hey Rembrandt, come over here," I yelled and gave him a hand signal to come on over.

He was a well tanned, lean handsome young man I would guess in his early 20's.

"I'm sorry it was rude of me to stand there drawing you without asking," he said while walking up to me.

"That's okay, are you any good?" I asked while smiling so he would know I wasn't really mad.

"Here look," he said while handing me his sketch pad.

I took it from him and looked at his drawing, along with the lady's I was taking with. It was a rough charcoal drawing, but there was no doubt that it was me he was drawing.

"Very good," I said and the other lady's agreed.

"What's your name? So when you become a famous artist I can say you once drew me," I asked.

"Hi I'm Justin, I live down the street."

"Glad to meet you Justin, I'm Gloria," I said while shaking his hand.

"Can I keep the picture?" I asked.

"Sure if you want it."

"I love it, it'll be worth a fortune when you're famous," I said.

"Actually this is just a hobby, I really want to be a doctor," he said.

"Always good to have a hobby," I said.

"Well I'm going to wander around and sketch some more, nice meeting you," he then said," would it be okay if I see you around during the cook-out that I draw you?" 

"That would be fine," I answered.

I found a lot of fun people to talk with and was even able to spend a minute or two with my husband. I walked by the horseshoe pit to watch my husband, one of the guys asked me if I wanted to try to throw a shoe, but added there was a danger I might break a nail. The guys seemed to think that was hilarious. I took the shoe and threw a ringer, winked at my husband and walked away.

I walked to the other side of the yard, found a chair to sit on, checked to make sure I didn't break a nail, and saw Justin heading my way.

"Hi Gloria, can I get you something to drink?" he asked.

"You can get me a Pepsi if you don't mind?"

"Sure, no problem, hold my sketch pad and I'll be right back."

I looked at his drawings while he was away and they were really good. Some were action type drawings, like the one he did of me, the people in the picture weren't posing and unaware someone was drawing them and in others the subject posed or at least sat still, they were very good. The kid had talent. I was looking at one posed picture of my daughter and her friend when Justin returned with my soda.

"You like the drawings? "He asked.

"Yes very nice."

He saw the picture I was looking at and said. "The smoking hot blonde is home from college."

"The smoking hot blonde is my daughter and just got out of middle school," I said.

"She told me she was in college, honest,"he said.

I laughed and said" I have no doubt that she did. I think she's too young for you though."

"Would it be okay if I draw you now while you're relaxing?" he asked.

"Okay, just promise to make me look good," I said.

"You're the hottest lady here, how could I not make you look good," he said with a grin, and started drawing.

It only took maybe ten minutes and he showed me his work. It was great, if I didn't know better I would think it would take a lot more time to complete it. I complemented him again, but before he could give me the picture, someone called him and he said good-bye and left.

No sooner had Justin walked away Tracy sat in the chair next to me.

"I see you met our local artist," she said.

"Yeah, cute kid and very talented," I said.

"Did he ask you about doing a private sitting?" Tracy asked.

"No why?"

"A few years ago he told me he needed to make some money and wanted to know if I would like him to make a drawing of me for my husband and give it to him as a gift."

"Sounds like a creative way to make a few dollars,"I said.

"I thought so too, you know the picture that's in my husband's office, that's the one he did."

"Yes I remember, I think I even complimented you on it," I said

We went on to talk about something else, then she had to mingle with her guests and I went off and talked with some other people I met.

It was getting late and my kids wanted to leave, so I told them to get in the SUV and I'd round up their father. I saw him sitting with some people talking and on my way to get him I saw Justin.

"Hey Justin, I was talking earlier with Tracy and she said you pick up some extra money doing drawings that could be given as gifts."

"Yes I still do that, you interested?' he asked.

"Yes give me your phone number and I'll call you."

He gave me his number and said he would look forward to my call. I was looking forward to calling him!

. 

A week after the cook-out I was sitting by my den relaxing while enjoy a few extra days I took off to make a long weekend. The kids were at their summer jobs and my husband was at work. For some reason Justin popped into my head, I went in my home office and found the cell phone number he gave me. I called it, but it went right into his voicemail, so I left him my number and told him to give me a call.

It wasn't 10 minutes later when my phone rang and it was Justin.

"Hi Gloria, sorry I missed your call."

"Hi Justin, are you interested in earning some money doing some drawing for me?" I asked.

"Sure tell me where and when and I'll be there," he answered. 

"I'm home now if you're free."

He told me he was, so I gave him my address and he said he would be right over.

I was wearing Capri pants with a matching t-shirt, no bra. I fixed my hair and added some make up, took a quick look in the mirror and felt good about my appearance.

I was in the kitchen making some iced coffee when the doorbell rang.

Justin was here with a large pad, an easel, along with a box of I guessed art supplies.

"Hello Gloria, I think I have everything I'll need."

"Come in Justin; let me give you a hand," I said, while taking the art supplies from him.

"Follow me," I said, and walked us to the den.

"Very nice home you have Gloria."

"Thank you Hon, I figured the den would be a good a place as any to be."

"This is fine," he said.

I asked him if he would like an iced coffee or something else to drink. I went to the kitchen to get our coffee and he got his work station set up. When I returned he asked what I wanted the picture for and if I wanted a full body drawing or just a head and shoulder picture.

I told him I wanted it as a gift for my husband and a head picture would be good and maybe add palm trees in the background. I noticed a quick smile when I said a "head picture".

I sat on one of our bar stools while he was drawing. I asked him about girlfriends and his family, school activities, topics like that. I was also looking him over too. I liked that he was not only handsome with a nice body, a smile that made his face light up, plus that he could hold an intelligent conversation. While sitting there checking him out I could feel my nipples getting erect and I could see from where his eyes were going he noticed.

I was starting to feel that sexy little ache I get in my tummy when I get horny!

"So tell me Justin, have you ever drawn nudes?" I asked with a slight smile.

He looked surprised by question, but answered "only drawing from pictures, not a real person."

"You mean you never talked one of your girlfriends to pose for you," I asked.

"Well one friend took her bathing suite top off for me and let me draw her," he said.

"That must have been exciting," I said.

"Yeah it was pretty cool," he said and now he was smiling.

"I'll be finished with your drawing in a few minutes, you don't have to sit there any more, just touching up a few things," he said.

"Great can I look now?" I asked.

"Let me finish first, and then you can look."

I got up and took our glasses and went to the kitchen to refill them. When I returned the easel with my picture on it was facing me. I was astonished how good it was. In this day and age you get so use to photographs you forget about the talent people have with their artistic abilities.

"Justin, it's fabulous, thank you so much," I said.

"You're easy to make a good picture of Gloria" he said shyly, which I found to be very appealing.

"Gloria may I ask you something, but promise not to get mad."

"How can I promise that if I don't know what you're going to ask, but go ahead and ask and take your chances," I said with a smile.

"Would you consider posing for me in the nude?" he asked 

This is a fantasy I've had over the years, being nude for a younger man, a fantasy I would think about while masturbating. Now that it could happen I wasn't sure what to do.

"I'm flattered, that you asked, but I'm not sure I could," I heard my voice say.

"You asked me at the cook-out if I did nudes and I've been thinking about it since then. I kind of thought or hoped you would want to," he said.

It was decision time, being nude in front of such a young guy basically isn't right, but it would be so sexy and I was feeling horny, and it was for art.

"Okay Justin, I'll do it," I said.

I think he didn't expect me to agree because when I said okay he just stared it me for a moment or two without saying a word.

"Justin, are you okay," I asked, more as a tease than a real concern.

"Yes I'm fine, I just don't know where to begin," he said.

How about you move your easel over by the sofa, that way I can be more comfortable while posing for you," I said.

"That will be great," he said while grabbing his supplies and moving across the room.

Watching him as he was setting everything up I was having some doubts about what I was doing, but when he looked over at me and smiled I knew I was going to go through with it.

I walked over to the sofa and sat down. I pulled my top up over my head and tossed it aside. My nipples were hard and I gave my breast a quick rub.

"Justin, do you like them?' I asked while giving them a little side to side shake.

"They're beautiful," he answered while starting to draw. 

I didn't even ask him if he was finished with drawing my breasts, I stood up and wiggled out of my pants. He was stopped like a deer in the headlights. I slowly pulled down my panties and was slightly shaking from the excitement I was feeling from letting this boy see my pussy. A fantasy comes true!

I stretched out full length on the sofa and told him he could draw now. While he was drawing I was looking at the outline of his hard cock in his shorts. He would draw then look at me and draw some more. He seemed so enthralled in what he was doing I didn't even attempt any conversation. I was just enjoying being exposed to him. When it appeared he was finished I sat up, with my feet on the floor I spread my legs. Not porn spread, but enough so he could see my lips slightly parted. I was so wet!

"How's this I asked?' I asked while he was looking right at my pussy.

The words hardly came out, but he managed to say something about it being great.

He would draw and I would periodically change poses, any conversations was me asking if the pose was good, he would answer with a yes or occasionally tell me to move a little this way or that.

We did this for almost an hour. I had all I could do not to just start masturbating in front of him or just pull him on top of me. I think if I did either he would have passed out! His shyness along with his erection was so very sexy.

When he was finished he stood back and told me he was done. I stood and walked over to him. I was still naked and I let my breast rest against his arm as we stood side by side looking at his drawings. They were outstanding, I couldn't do them justice trying to describe them, but I loved them.

"After all that work let me get you some more iced coffee, "I said and walked to the kitchen, knowing he was looking at my naked butt as I left the room.

I came back with our drinks and we sat at the bar.

"Thank you for letting me draw you undressed, "he said.

"At first I wasn't so sure I could to it, but it turned out to be very exciting. I can't believe you haven't had the opportunity to have a nude model in your art classes in school, "I said.

"They wouldn't do that in school," he laughed.

"They had nude models in art classes when I was in college," I told him.

"I'm not in college," he answered.

"Working a few years before you go?" I asked.

"I'm still in high school," he said looking me like I should know that.

"You're in your 20's and still in high school," I said surprised.

"Who told you I'm in my 20's, how cool is that, I'm 18," He said.

"I guess no one, for some reason I just thought that you were."

"Oh that's why you weren't thrilled about me drawing your daughter at the cook-out, you thought I was too old for her, heck we're pretty close in age, "he said.

"Oh Shit!" was all I was able to say.



Who Knew?



I first met Janet when we were both in college. She's actually four years or so younger than me, but I took a couple years off after high school, to make some money, and then went to the junior college on the part-time plan, before heading off to the big university. So by the time we met, I was a senior, and she was a junior.

We met in a class we had together, and pretty quickly, we ended up studying together fairly regularly. Frankly, I had never met anyone like her -- our personalities seemed to resonate in just about every way, from our offbeat senses of humor, to the books and music we liked, and on down the line. Before long, we were completing each other's sentences; we just 'got' each other on some really basic, fundamental levels.

I'd had other girlfriends, and Janet had had other boyfriends; neither of us was a virgin, but in meeting each other, we were encountering a level of 'psychic' intimacy that shocked both of us.

One Friday evening, my roommate was gone for the weekend. Janet was over at my apartment, and we were studying together for an exam we both had the following Monday. We ground our way through the concepts, and indulged in the uncanny way we had of 'melding' our minds. She had a unique ability to make difficult concepts transparently clear to me; it was like she instantly understood the things I was hung up on, and she could just make them instantly intelligible to me. And, often as not, I did the same for her. It was the darnedest thing, the way our minds just seemed to be on the same wavelength.

I don't know how many hours we were studying, but after a certain point, our brains were full, at least for the time being. There was no more room left for any more new information, and we both kind of got 'punchy' at the same time. We were both sitting on the floor, on opposite sides of the coffee table where we had our books and notes spread out.

"That's it!" Janet said, slamming her book shut, and lightly tossing it, Frisbee-style, across the room. "No more studying! I'm done!"

"My brain hurts!" I agreed, and I collected my books and papers to store them back in their proper place on my desk. I sauntered back to where Janet was stretched out on the floor, and sat down beside her.

"What do you want to do?" I asked. "So long as it doesn't mean I have to think. I think I pulled something in my brain."

"No kidding," she agreed. Propping herself up on one elbow, she looked at me mischievously. "I've got an idea," she said, not-very-successfully stifling a giggle.

"Okay," I said, "what's your idea?"

For several seconds, she said nothing, but continued to smirk at me puckishly. Suddenly, she sprang on top of me, her hands poking all over my ribs and neck and chest. "Tickle Fight!" she giggled, and she sought out all of my potentially most-ticklish spots -- my armpits, my ribs, my neck.

At first, I responded defensively, blocking her probing attempts, and not returning her aggression in kind. I grabbed her wrists, to restrain her from further aggression. For a few seconds, we caught our breath, still stoked on adrenaline and blowing off steam, staring wildly at each other.

Virtually simultaneously, we both came to the awareness that, in the course of our playful wrestling, I was now lying on the floor, and she was straddling me. I had the beginnings of a really fine hard-on, and her crotch was nestled delightfully against it. Slowly, the puckish mischief in her face transformed into something more like lustful desire, as she felt the hard lump in my pants pressing against herself. Her eyes flashed with raw desire as she ground her hips one solitary stroke on my concealed erection, then groaned. Then a second stroke, and a third, elicited a breathy groan from my throat.

I reached up, sliding my hands under the edge of her shirt, savoring the softness of the skin of her torso, as she continued to dry-hump me. I pulled her down, so she was lying flat against my chest, while I fumbled under her shirt to find and unfasten her bra-clasp. When her bra was unfastened, she sat up. Raising her arms, she invited me to strip her shirt and bra off over her head, revealing her beautiful breasts to my gaze. And they were beautiful -- full, firm, round C-cups, tipped with dark pink nipples that stood erect with excitement as I drank in their beauty.

"Your breasts are wonderful," I said. "Thank you."

She leaned forward again, presenting her fleshy globes in front of my face, inviting me to taste and suckle them, which I was only too happy to do. I kissed her nipples, one and then the other, which caused her to shudder in response. I cupped my hands around her breasts, savoring their firm heft, while I covered her areolae with my mouth, licking and suckling her bounteous mammaries. Janet was purring happily now at the sensations my mouth and tongue were creating in her breasts, and she resumed grinding her crotch against mine.

She sat up, and unbuttoned my shirt, stripping it off me, then running her fingers through my chest hair. Leaning forward again, she sensuously rubbed her tits against my chest, running her taut nipples through my chest fur, trailing little jolts of electricity wherever they touched me. For a long time, we simply savored the sensations of each other's naked skin sliding against our own.

"I want you," she said huskily, and immediately she slid off my groin, so as to get me out of my jeans. When she unbuttoned the waist and slid the zipper down, my pulsating erection sprang up, instantly raising a tent in my briefs. Janet pulled my jeans down, then turned her attention to my stiff, thick rod. A circle of pre-cum spread from the tip of my cock, across the fabric of my underwear. Peeling the elastic waistband out from my belly, Janet stripped my undershorts off me, leaving me completely naked before her gaze.

Tentatively, she reached out to grip my quivering manhood. "You have a wonderful cock," she breathed. "Big and hard and thick. I can't wait to have it inside me."

"And he can't wait to be inside you, either," I grinned, although it came out sounding more desperate than I intended.

"Oh god, Kevin" Janet groaned, "I want you so bad." Standing up, she stripped her own jeans and panties off herself, then she stood, presenting her naked body for my acceptance.

She was beautiful. Her full, round tits were in perfect balance with her delightful round hips. Her belly was flat and firm, and her legs were lithe and taut, bespeaking a comprehensive workout regimen. A thick bush of curly brown fur adorned her pussy-lips, which were engorged and puffy with her arousal.

I desperately wanted to eat her pussy, but we were both far too horny for any more foreplay at the moment. Instead, Janet knelt down, straddling my hips again. Raising herself up, she gripped my cock and positioned it against her cunt-lips in a sensual genital 'kiss'. We locked eyes with each other as she slowly lowered herself onto my thick pole. She was incredibly wet, and I could feel the heat from her pussy enveloping me as she took an inch of my length into herself, and then two.

"God!" she exclaimed. "You feel so GOOD inside me! You're filling me up with your big, hard cock! Oh, yessss!"

When I was all the way inside her, and I could feel her bottomed-out on my pubic bone, Janet slowly ground her hips in little circles, savoring the sensations of my cock inside herself. I could feel the tip of my cock stirring the deepest corners of her vagina.

For a long time, we didn't thrust at all -- we just held ourselves together, pressing for the deepest, firmest, most intimate contact that we could create between our bodies, grinding side-to-side, and in little circles. I gripped Janet's ass with the palms of my hands, and pulled her even more tightly onto myself, if such were even possible. I wanted badly to come, and send my semen surging into Janet's depths, but I wanted to savor the deep connection between our bodies, and to prolong the sensations, even more. I took deep, relaxing breaths, to back down just a bit from the brink of orgasm, but I stayed hard inside her, churning and grinding my thick prong into her depths.

I don't know how long we mated like that, but finally, Janet began groaning more insistently, and ground herself on my erection at an ever-increasing tempo. I matched her rhythm as best I could, and thrust my hips up off the floor, driving urgently into the sensual depths of her vagina.

"Oh god, Kevin," she cried out. "Oh god, I'm coming! I'm cooo-"

Before she could finish the last word, her body began to twitch violently, squirming and writhing as her orgasm overtook her. Her pussy clenched tightly around my shaft, and soon I was flying on the wings of my own climax. I was shouting and grunting, and Janet was moaning and wailing, and huge surges of my cum were gushing out the end of my cock, into Janet's womb, as we rolled and writhed in ecstasy together.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, once I'd begun to catch my breath. "I've never come like that! You, my love, are the best, most exciting lover I've ever had!"

"Ditto!" she agreed, still gasping for breath.

In her post-orgasmic bliss, Janet fell on top of me, and for a long time afterward, we simply lay together, purring and stroking each other. Even as it softened, my cock stayed inside her, and Janet sensually clenched her cunt-muscles on it from time to time. I slowly ground my hips in little circles, still savoring our intimate genital contact.

After a while, I could feel myself starting to get hard again, inside Janet. I felt her pussy-walls giving way as my organ thickened and lengthened again, without ever having left her inner chamber.

Janet gave a start as she felt my rampant manhood growing inside herself again. "You're getting hard again? Right inside me?"

"Evidently," I grinned. My mind reeled at the wondrous sensations inside Janet's cunt -- my cock was throbbing with a delightful, happy buzz from being snugly nestled inside her warm, moist cavity. I could feel the cum I'd previously deposited inside her, oozing out along my shaft, and onto my balls, as I continued to expand into her. Instinctively, at a level below conscious thought, I began to grind my hips up into Janet.

She groaned at the sensations, and quickly matched my rhythm, grinding herself back and forth, up and down, in and out on my stiff, assertive cock. "Oh god," she moaned, "you're fucking me twice. My god, I'm gonna come again!"

I'd just shot into her a short while earlier, so I could just keep happily fucking away, without an orgasm clamoring for immediate attention. Soon Janet rolled her head back; her jaw went slack, and her hips were a blur as she approached her second climax with a high-pitched gasping wail. "Oh shit!" she cried. "Oh god, yes! Ohgodohgodohgod. . ."

My cock happily absorbed all the good vibrations that Janet was giving it, yet without coming. When Janet had recovered from her orgasm, she felt me still hard inside her. I thrust up into her again, signaling my intention to keep fucking her until she'd had enough.

On and on we fucked like that, my cock staying hard inside her, buzzing happily from the wet friction of her cunt-walls along its length, while she went up and down to one orgasmic peak after another. Finally, she was near exhaustion, rolling her head from side to side as she crested one more climactic wave. "Come with me," she gasped. "Give me your cum."

By that point, I was starting to get tired myself, so I mustered up the last of my endurance, and drove myself up into Janet's core, straining to touch her deepest center with my cockhead, and in short order, I was coming into her again. Great spasms wracked my body, and my thick, hot cum spurted out of me, into Janet, in time with the orgasmic tremors of my body.

"OOOOoooohhhh," Janet moaned. "OOOooohhh, you're coming inside me. . . I can feel your warm, sweet cum flowing into me. OOOooohhh, yesssss. . ."

Once again, she fell onto my chest, and this time, there was no 'penile revival'. We lay together, stroking and nuzzling and kissing each other, until we finally re-entered the earth's atmosphere.

"No one," stated Janet, "has ever made me come like that. You, sir, are a fabulous lover.

"Well, I've never done anything like this before, either. I think YOU'RE the fabulous lover, for pulling something like that out of the likes of me."

"Well, whoever is to blame," she laughed, "that was the most incredible sex I've ever had."

"I think we agree on that."

*****

Janet spent that entire weekend with me at my apartment, and we made love as often as we could, saving aside enough time to study while we waited for my next erection to arrive. Even sexually, it seemed, she and I just had this amazing, uncanny 'resonance' with each other.

We got married just after I graduated, and I went to grad school, picking up my Master's degree in the time it took Janet to finish her Bachelor's. A couple months before graduation, Janet became pregnant with our first child, a little sooner than we'd planned, but we were ecstatic that our love (and, let's be candid, lots and LOTS of sex) had taken the concrete form of a child, made from the living substance of the two of us.

When our son Jack was born the following winter, I was endlessly fascinated to look at him, and note that little things, like the shape of his nose, or a peculiar swirl in his hair, were just like similar features that I had. And he had other features that were just as obviously inherited from Janet. 

Three years later, we had a daughter, Sarah, and again, it was simply fascinating to see the traits that she had obviously gotten from Janet, and the ones she'd obviously gotten from me.

The births of my children were even more awe-inspiring for me, on a deeper, personal level. You see, I was adopted as a newborn infant. So I'd spent my whole life without any conscious awareness of my genetic endowment. My three-year-old son, and his newborn sister, were the first people I'd ever known in my life who were genetically related to me.

One day, I was rocking Sarah to sleep, and contemplating the miracle of this baby girl, made from her mother and me, when suddenly, a thought struck me. If my kids have gotten various physical and mental traits from Janet, or me. . . then, how had those traits come to me? Obviously, we knew Janet's parents, and it was clear how much she looked like her mom, or had her dad's athletic ability. For me, though, those questions referenced a blank page. I dearly loved my adoptive parents, the Schmidts, and was utterly grateful for the way they'd raised me. But they simply didn't have any genetic information to give me.

I mulled it over in my mind, over a period of a few weeks, then talked it over with Janet. Then I went to my parents, to think through the idea of searching for my birth-mother. I wasn't sure what my parents would think, but they were actually quite agreeable. "Just don't change the name I gave you," my dad admonished, in his gruff way. I assured him I wouldn't.

I won't bore you with all the details of the search, but suffice it to say that I was surprised by how quickly I was able to find her, starting from the adoption order my parents had filed away, and the name of the agency that had handled the adoption. Within just a few months, I knew who my birth-mother was, and where she lived. Her name was Andrea Mills, and she lived in Oregon, far away from Wisconsin, where I'd been born and raised. Evidently, she'd wanted to 'get out of dodge' after I was born. She'd been 19 when I was born, so me being in my late 20s, she was still only in her 40s. She'd never married, or borne any other children.

*****

I picked up the phone and dialed the number I had for her.

"Hello?" a woman's voice answered.

"Is this Andrea Mills?"

"Yes, this is Andrea."

It was her. After nearly three decades, I was hearing her voice! I introduced myself, citing the date of my birth, which, of course, was seared into her brain.

Sniffles, and sounds of weeping, came from the other end of the line. "I always hoped this day would come," she sobbed. "And now it has. I have missed you so much. Thank you for finding me."

She continued. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Forgive you? What on earth for?"

"For giving you away."

"Giving me away? You gave me a life and a family! Even my adoptive parents told me that you gave me to them because it was the best thing you could have done! Heavens, I've always known that you -- whoever you were -- gave me for adoption, because it was best for me."

"That's very gracious," she replied, through sniffles, "and your parents are very wise."

We spoke on the phone for over two hours. It was like we couldn't get enough of each other -- just let me hear your voice a few minutes more. By the time we finally hung up, I was already making plans to fly out west to visit her.

The weeks between that first phone call and my flight were a whirlwind. Almost daily phone calls, and packets of mail, mostly containing photos, flew back and forth between us. Looking back, I'm grateful to Janet, because my birth-mother obsession was leaving more than a fair share of the daily family responsibilities with her. She sensed, though, and quite correctly, that this was pretty much of an earthquake in my life, and virtually instinctively, she was happy to pick up my slack. I married a great woman.

On the day I flew out, I kissed Janet and the kids good-bye at the airport, promising to return in five days. Andrea and I had agreed that this first visit should be between the two of us; she would meet Janet and the kids after that. . .

*****

The plane landed, and I found my way through the airport to pick up my luggage. While I was idly waiting for my bags to arrive, I spotted a striking strawberry-blond, forty-ish woman who looked like the face I'd seen in the photos Andrea had sent me. She recognized me about the same time, and came running across the floor to me, practically jumping onto me and squeezing me in a tight neck-lock, not letting go for what became quite a long time.

"My god, Kevin," she gushed, wiping a tear from her eye, "it's so good to finally see you. And touch you. We are never going to lose each other, ever again."

"Right," I said, softly. "I am so happy to finally meet you in person."

We loaded my bags into her car, and she took me to her home, nearly an hour's drive from the airport. The whole way there, I was intently scoping out her face for the features we had in common, that were her genetic endowment to me. It was really true, I thought to myself -- I came from this woman. I lived in her womb (and, as it turned out, I was the only one who ever had), and her DNA marked every cell in my body. So many of those things that so fascinated me about my own children, I now saw in her. I hadn't fallen out of the sky -- I'd been born like anyone else, and this was my mother. My head spun with the realization.

It was late afternoon when we arrived at her house, and she poured me a glass of wine while she prepared dinner. I felt almost like a kid, watching his mother cooking dinner, just hanging with her, and talking about my life, where I'd been and what I'd done.

Dinner was amazing -- "I'm a pretty good cook," she said, proudly, and I could only agree. Afterward, she poured us both glasses of wine, and we sat in her living room. There was a large picture window with an awesome view of the mountains.

We sipped our wine silently for a couple minutes before Andrea spoke.

"I suppose I should tell you about how you were conceived," she finally sighed.

"I think I'm familiar with the general concepts," I said.

"Well," she replied, "You were conceived at the same time I lost my virginity. But," she continued, "I want you to know that you weren't the product of a momentary lust. I loved your birth-father -- Tom -- and I think he loved me, too."




Who Knew?



"Okay," I said, "I'm listening."

"It was a Fourth-of-July weekend," she began, "and a group of us went to the beach on Lake Michigan. Tom and I had been seeing each other for a few months; we'd even met each other's parents. It was a wonderful, hot sunny day, and we spent a lot of time in the water just to try and stay cool. Of course, there was a lot of playful teasing going on, and Tom kept trying to feel my breasts under the water, but I mostly managed to keep him away. All in good fun."

"Andrea," I interrupted, "you don't have to. . ."

"Hush," she said. "I want you to know."

"Okay." I wasn't entirely sure that I wanted to know, but she was intent on telling me, so I let her go on.

She resumed her story. "After a while, we went back to one of the little changing huts and locked ourselves in for a bit of making out. We were sitting on the bench kissing each other passionately, with tongues and everything. Then Tom put his hand on my breast, and this time, I didn't stop him. Even when he slipped his hand under my bra, I let him; I'd never done anything like that before, but his hand just felt so good, gently caressing my bare breast. And when he untied the string and took my top off me completely, it gave me a wild feeling to have my breasts completely exposed to him like that."

"Are you sure you want to be telling me this?" I asked.

She just nodded, and held up her hand, insisting that I let her talk.

"We were kissing deeply, and he was feeling my breasts. His shoulders were so strong. . . so masculine. I ran my hands over his back and chest. I could feel myself getting wet 'down there'. But when Tom tried to feel my crotch, I wouldn't let him. I was too nervous, too shy. I wiggled and squirmed, trying to keep him away from my 'private parts'. I mean, my boobs were one thing, but no male had ever seen or touched me there since the last time my dad changed my diaper."

She took a deep breath. Inwardly, I was reeling, just a bit. It was clear that she was going to tell me the full detailed account of the sex that resulted in my coming-to-be. But she'd also made it clear that I was not to interrupt, so I let her continue.

"I suppose Tom was probably getting frustrated, but he didn't show it. He just whispered to me, 'It's OK; we'll take it easy.' I was scared. What if he didn't like the way I looked naked? What if it hurt? But I loved him, and I trusted him to take care of me. 'Come on,' he said, with a laugh, 'you show me yours, and I'll show you mine.'

"I laughed, and it made me less apprehensive. 'Okay,' I said. 'Let's both take our suits off together.'" So I pulled my bottom off, and he pulled his suit down at the same time. At first, all we did was just look at each other's 'private parts'. I had never seen an erect penis before then. It was amazing -- big and hard, and red and throbbing -- and I was both fascinated and fearful. I thought to myself, how could that big thing ever possibly fit inside me?

"Tom slid down off the bench onto the carpeted floor, and pulled me down next to him. He looked at me. 'Do you want to do this?' I wasn't sure; I didn't want to be a Bad Girl, and already, I was doing what only Bad Girls would do. But right there, at that moment, I didn't care. I just wanted to give myself to him completely, to receive him and be joined to him. I nodded. I had no idea what it would feel like, but now was the time." She looked at me. "Are you OK?"

I nodded, still in a mild state of shock that she felt so compelled to tell me the story on this level of detail.

"Tom had me roll onto my back, and he got on top of me. I'm sure he'd done it before, but he was fumbling around, trying to find my opening with his erection. I finally felt the head of his penis start poking into me, and it just took my breath away! As he slowly pushed further into me, I was wriggling my hips, trying to get more of him inside me. Nothing had ever felt that good in my whole life -- he was filling me up with his thick, wonderful pole, and I wanted all of it.

"For just an instant, I felt his hardness pushing against my hymen, but then it gave way; it was a quick, sharp pain, but then he was all the way inside me, and I forgot all about it. My god, I just felt so full, like his penis was filling up my whole body. When he started to thrust in and out of me, my instincts took over, and I started to thrust back against him. Oh, god -- that rhythmic fucking felt so good! Sensations were radiating out from my vagina through my whole body."

I smiled when she said, 'fucking'; it was the first 'nasty' word I'd heard from her mouth.

"Tom was grunting with every thrust, and then he pushed into me hard, one last time, and held it there, in the deepest part of me. I felt a bubble of wet warmth burst inside me, and begin to flow all through my womb. It was so incredible; he was leaving his own -- what should I call it, his bodily essence? -- inside me, and I treasured it, to have my beloved Tom's bodily fluid held within myself. Even after he got soft and slipped out of me, I was smiling to myself that I still had Tom inside me. And," she said, looking straight into my eyes, "that bit of Tom inside me brought you into being.

"We made love again later that night, and again the next day. All told, we didn't have sex that many times -- ten or twelve, at the most, over the next month or so. When I missed my period, I got scared. My mom finally got suspicious and took me to the doctor, who confirmed that I was pregnant. After that, life got difficult in a hurry."

She exhaled heavily before continuing. "My dad was pissed. At me, at Tom, at the world. We were supposed to be a Good Family, but back in those days, girls from Good Families didn't get pregnant out-of-wedlock. So he was pissed about that, too. Eventually, he sent me to a Home for Unwed Mothers in another town, where our friends didn't have to see me in my shameful condition.

"Tom just freaked out. 'I can't marry you!' he said. 'I've got to finish college!' And that was just the final insult."

Andrea was weeping softly now, as she spoke. "When you were born, I knew it was going to be OK," she said, "but I couldn't see how. They wouldn't even let me hold you; I had to sneak down to the nursery just to get a look at you through the glass. I wanted so bad just to hold you, to count your fingers and toes, to satisfy myself that you were going to OK, but looking through the glass was all I got.

"I was sure I had enough love to raise you," she said, "but I had nothing else. My parents didn't want a new baby in the house, and I understood that -- my brother, your uncle, was a teenager, and they were looking forward to their empty nest in a few years, not raising another baby. It was the hardest thing I ever did, giving you up for adoption, but I was sure that it was the right thing, and the best thing for you. Can you understand that?"

"Of course I can," I replied, softly. "You gave me a family, and a home, that you couldn't come close to providing yourself. And even more than that, you gave me life in the first place. I have never had anything but gratitude for what you've done for me, and I will always be grateful to you. Does that make sense?"

She nodded, then continued. "After you were born, it took me a long time to get my life back together. I went back to school, but I had wanted to be a teacher, and I just couldn't bear the thought of standing in front of a classroom full of kids someday, wondering if one of them was you."

"You never married?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "I never did. I'm not sure why. Maybe I was just too scared to trust a guy again. Maybe the idea of having another child was too painful. I don't know. I've had some friends-with-benefits over the years, and one or two of them might have liked to marry me, but somehow, I could never bring myself to ever let things get that far."

She came and sat next to me on the couch, wrapping me in a tight, warm hug. "Anyway, here we are. Thank you for finding me," she said. "And thank you for understanding." She smiled. "I've only ever seen you in person for a few hours, but already, you're a son I can be proud of."

*****

I spent four full days at Andrea's house, while she showed me around the sights of Oregon. The area where she lived was rich in natural beauty, and I was drinking it all in, as Andrea and I just talked as we went from one stunning vista to the next, letting each other in on our lives, and jump-starting our relationship, to make up for the decades together that we'd missed. She took to holding hands with me as we walked, which at first seemed a little weird, but at the same time, very natural and comfortable.

I began to notice that Andrea and I had a similar kind of 'resonance' with each other, to what Janet and I had, that had helped bond us to each other back when we'd first met. Andrea just seemed to 'get' me, on some basic, intrinsic level. It was uncanny, and really cool.

By the last evening, we were both in a melancholy mood, knowing that I was returning home the next day, even though I was certainly looking forward to seeing Janet and the kids again. We sat in the living room again, sipping glasses of wine and gazing pensively at the stunning mountain vista. For a long time, we didn't talk, simply cherishing each other's company, and watching the shadows on the mountains as the sun set behind us.

Finally, Andrea spoke. "Kevin?"

"Yes, Andrea."

"Hold me. Please?"

"Sure," I said, and took her in my arms. Her body nestled comfortably against mine, her maternal warmth radiating against my side.

After another long silence, she spoke again. "I. . . back when you were born, I never even got to hold you."

"Well, now you can hold me to your heart's content. . . Mother."

She gasped at the deep acceptance implied in my response, which I had said with all deliberate intention.

"M. . . Mother? You called me 'Mother'. . ."

"Well. . . you are, aren't you?"

"I don't know. . . I gave birth to you, but I didn't raise you. . ."

"In my book, that counts."

We turned to each other, and held each other tightly for a long time. "I don't ever want to lose you again," she sobbed.

"I promise, you won't."

We held and cherished each other for a long time in silence before Andrea spoke again.

"Could you. . . I wonder if. . . shit, this is just too weird. . ."

"What is it, Andrea?"

"Well. . ." she hesitated. "If I'm crazy enough to ask you this, will you just tell me yes or no, without thinking I'm some kind of pervert?"

I leaned back, looking askance at her. Then I smiled. "Andrea, in these last few days, I've cherished meeting you, and getting to know you. And I've come to love you, and the connection we have to each other. You couldn't possibly offend me; ask me whatever you want."

"I. . ." she exhaled heavily; "I always wished that I could have taken inventory of your body -- count your fingers and toes, check out the shape of your body. . . Would it be totally weird and perverted if I wanted to see you naked? Even though you're not a little baby any more?"

I smiled. It was an odd request, to be sure. But deep inside, there was a definite part of me that wanted to open myself to Andrea like that. In fact. . .

"Well, Andrea," I began, "is it totally weird and perverted if I say that I'd like to see you naked, too? You know, I look at my kids, and I'm just fascinated to see what traits they've gotten from me; and I've always wondered where those traits came from -- how they got to me, so to speak."

Andrea laughed. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

I laughed, a full hearty laugh. "Well, I didn't exactly mean it like that. But. . . yeah, okay, if you want to put it that way."

Without another word, both Andrea and I stood, and slowly and deliberately stripped our clothes off. When we were both naked, we faced each other, gazing in rapt curiosity at each other's nakedness. For a woman in her late 40s, I had to admit, Andrea still had a really hot body. Her breasts were still firm and full, sagging only slightly. Her belly was flat, and her legs were taut and shapely. She turned slowly around, and I saw the smooth, round cheeks of her butt. When she faced me again, I noticed the thick bush of curly, strawberry-blond pubic hair adorning her pussy, and I was momentarily fixated on it.

"You like my pussy?" she asked, in a tone that sounded almost surprised.

"Sorry," I chuckled. "I was just thinking that that's where I came into the world."

She laughed loudly. "Yes, you did! Although I never thought of it that way. You want a closer look?"

"Mmmmmm. . . uh, maybe later. . . Now, what would you like to see of me?"

She approached me, taking hold of my hands. "One, two, three, four, five. . ." she counted the fingers on my right hand, then, "six, seven, eight, nine, ten!" on my left. "Yep, they're all here!" Then she counted my toes, pronouncing the set likewise complete.

Slowly, she walked around me, thoroughly, deliberately inspecting each feature of my body. "Nice, solid tight shoulders," she said. "Broad back; that's good. Tight, firm ass," she chuckled. "Is it too weird to have your mother talking about your ass?" 

"A little," I chuckled. "I just remind myself that we're getting to this 29 years too late."

"I'm glad that you 'get' that."

Once she'd completed her thorough walk-around inspection, she sat on the couch, near one end, indicating that I should take a place next to her. Pulling me by the neck, she brought me down so my head was nestled in her lap, while she stroked my hair. "I wish I could have done this when you were little," she whispered. Then, leaning forward, she lifted my head and pressed it to her breast, tacitly urging me to suckle it.

I should probably have realized just how crazy and perverted this was all becoming, but somehow, it just wasn't. I mean, lots of guys have sucked their mother's tits; just not when they were 29. Somehow, though, Andrea and I were working our way through all of the 'developmental stages', at an accelerated rate. She wanted me to suck her tits, which I couldn't do when I was little. So I purred happily as I savored the taste of her skin, stretched across the surface of her abundant, fleshy globes. When she was satisfied with how I'd sucked one breast, she switched me to the other one.

But of course, I wasn't a little baby any more, and the effect wasn't quite the same. At least, not for long. I felt her nipple growing and stiffening in my mouth, and soon she was happily purring herself, at the sensations my mouth and tongue were producing in her. I began to notice the musky aroma of arousal emanating from her pussy, just inches from my face. And my penis was starting to stiffen.

Eventually, Andrea noticed my growing erection. She giggled as she reached out to take hold of it. At the sensation of her touch, I was instantly, throbbingly hard. "I guess you're not a baby any more, are you?"

"Evidently not."

Andrea slid herself out from under me, and got up off the couch, maintaining her grip on my cock the whole time. She knelt on the floor in front of me, leaned forward, and took my pulsating erection into her mouth. My head spun as she licked and sucked my engorged manhood, her tongue swirling skillfully around my cockhead. I knew that she hadn't been celibate ever since my birth, but she had obviously developed some serious skill in the art of cock-sucking. It wasn't long before I could feel my balls beginning to swell, getting ready to explode.

"Andrea," I groaned, "if you keep this up, I'm gonna come. . ."

She quickly pulled her mouth off my cock. "Not just yet, my son. First, let's give you a tour of your first room."

She stood, lifting me off the couch in the process. My stiff cock stood straight out in front of me.

Andrea sat on the couch, her legs spread wide. Her labia were puffy and engorged. The pink petals of her inner cunt-lips were protruding, opening in a sultry 'welcome-home' gesture for the sole-ever occupant of her womb. I knelt between her legs, savoring the full, rich scent of her arousal. For a second, I smiled as I gazed in awe at the gateway to my mother's womb, realizing that I'd been here before, on my way out.

I leaned forward, draping Andrea's legs over my shoulders as I began slowly dragging my tongue along her slit, savoring the thick, aromatic nectar that oozed from within her. I licked along the length of her labia, then probed tentatively between her pussy-lips, into her sultry-hot opening, which drew a long, low groan from her. Soon, she was squirming and writhing at the sensations of my tongue plundering her depths. At last, I found her clit, and tenderly sucked on the soft flesh surrounding it, running my tongue gently across her hard little nubbin. When I began licking with broad, ice-cream strokes across her clit, she exploded spontaneously in orgasm.

"Oh god, Kevin!" she shrieked. "You're making me come. Oh, baby, I'm coming! Oh GGGOOOooooddddd!"

I suppose I might have left matters there, but Janet had trained me, years before, not to settle for eating her to a single orgasm, so I just kept on licking Andrea's pussy, and she kept on coming and coming, in a more-or-less continuous stream of orgasms, until finally she pushed me away.

"OK, baby!" she cried. "I want you back inside me! You started out inside me. Now just once, I want you back inside. . ."

At that instant, there was nothing I wanted more. There was no thought that I was fucking my mother, only that I was returning to where my life had begun.

Andrea raised and spread her legs, until her knees were virtually in her armpits. I hooked my elbows under her knees and positioned my flaring cockhead against her entrance. Then, with an insistent grunt, I penetrated her. 

"Welcome home, My Son," she groaned.

In a single thrust, I was in her balls-deep, up to the hilt. My cock throbbed inside her, reaching, probing for her deepest inner regions, straining for her core. I began to slowly move in and out of her, savoring every inch of the smooth, warm, lubricated friction as my rod slid sensually along her snug vaginal walls. Andrea groaned erotically as she clenched her cunt-muscles tightly on my shaft.

"Oh god, Kevin," she moaned. "Fuck me. Fuck me deep. Make your mother come."

Her words triggered some instinct at the base of my brain; I just wanted to please her, to make her happy. And so, I began to slowly drive in and out of her, grunting with every straining, probing stroke of my cock into her deepest depths, and soon she was wailing and moaning wildly, her head rolling from side-to-side as one more intense orgasm tore through her.

"Oh god," she cried. "I'm coming, baby. Come with me. Shoot into me. Oh, baby, I want you back inside me. Fill me with your cum. Come for me, baby!"

How could I deny my own mother? I released myself to my orgasm, and sent rivers of my thick, warm cum surging into her. For several minutes, even after my balls were thoroughly empty, I continued thrusting in and out of her, just wanting to hang onto the sensations of being inside her, until at last my cock went limp and slipped out of her.

We held each other tightly for a long time afterward. A whole complex of emotions swirled inside me -- of deep connection to this woman, of intense love for her. Somewhere in the back of my consciousness, I knew that a married man isn't supposed to be fucking his mother, and the oedipal component of it was impossible to miss. But somehow, this was different. This wasn't about fucking my mother, so much as it was about unfinished business, of re-establishing the deep bond and connection between us that had been lost when she surrendered me.

"That was wonderful," Andrea said, as we finally parted. "Thank you, Kevin."

"Thanks yourself. It was pretty wonderful from my end, too."




Who Knew?



"But you understand, right, that we can never do this again? It was what we needed, to re-establish our connection, or tend to our psychological 'loose ends', or whatever. But I'm your mother, and you're my son, and you're a married man. I won't come between you and your wife, or compete with her for your affections. Understood?"

"Understood, absolutely. And if it helps, I'm crazy about my wife."

"As you should be."

*****

I flew home the next day, and Janet met me at the airport. By the time we got home, it was late at night. Janet took the babysitter home, and I was already in bed when she returned.

"Did you have a good visit?" she asked me.

"It was really amazing," I said. "We got reconnected on some really deep levels."

"That's wonderful! So, how long until life gets back to normal?"

"I don't know. Probably not too long. She really wants to meet you and the kids."

"That would be nice. Especially if she wants to be in our life as 'Grandma', or something like that."

"Uh-huh. That's what she wants."

I rolled toward my wife and pulled her tight to myself. "I have missed you," I said.

"That would be two of us," Janet agreed.

Soon she was straddling my hips with my rigid cock buried inside herself, riding me happily. "Don't ever leave me for six days, again," she groaned. "I need frequent seminal injections to help keep my sanity."

"I know what you mean."

Soon, Janet was squirming through her first orgasm in nearly a week, while I sent another load of my semen into her. When she was finally sated, she fell on top of me, and we lay together, holding each other, for a long time afterward.

"It's good to have you home," Janet cooed.

"Mmmm-hmmm," I agreed. And we both fell into a happy, contented sleep.

For the next few weeks, I was hornier than I'd been since just after we'd gotten married. At least once a day, and often twice, I was dragging Janet off to bed for another round of conjugal communion.

"Not that I'm complaining in the least," she said, "but -- what's gotten into you?"

"More like I've gotten into YOU," I chuckled.

"You know what I mean," she said, with a sly grin.

"I honestly don't know," I said. "But somehow, this whole birth-mother thing is touching me at a very elemental level. Whether it's that I'm finally touching the beginnings of my life on this earth, or making contact with my genetic origins, I really don't know. Or, maybe, my world has been rocked, and I'm turning to you for some familiar, stable security. . ."

"Or (d) -- all of the above?"

"Yeah. . ."

"Well, I'm here for you, babe. Like I said, I'm not complaining."

"I appreciate it," I said, with a sly wink.

In the fullness of time, all the sex that Janet and I were having, issued forth in its predictable natural result, and Janet became pregnant with our third child, a daughter who we named Andi, after her newfound grandmother. Which pleased Andrea to no end, when we told her.

*****

That summer, Andrea flew out to spend a week with our family. We had a wonderful time showing her around the area where we live, but mostly, she just enjoyed meeting her grandchildren. A look of wonder would cross her face when they would sit on her lap, or ask her to read to them, or whatever.

"I knew I had a son 'out there'," she said. "But it never occurred to me that I might have grandchildren. I mean, I'm not even 50 yet. I'm not sure I'm ready to be somebody's grandma."

"Get used to the idea," I laughed. "Because they're not going anywhere."

Andrea seemed to form a particularly tight bond with Janet, for a number of reasons. On one level, I think Andrea knew that, if she wanted to have a good relationship with me, she couldn't be the 'evil mother' to Janet. But, on a more basic level, the two of them just hit it off, and instantly liked each other, which worked to my great benefit.

One afternoon toward the end of the week, Andrea and Janet and I were sitting together over glasses of wine. Andrea turned to me.

"It's time I told you about your birth-father," she said.

"OK," I said. "I know his name was Tom, and that you loved him, but he freaked out when you got pregnant."

"But you want to meet him, don't you?

"Sure, I suppose I do. But he didn't treat you very well."

Andrea sighed. "We were both young. He wasn't wicked, just scared and stupid. He was my first, and still most memorable, lover. And he's your father. You only got half of your DNA from me; the other half is from Tom. You really should meet him. I want you to."

"OK," I allowed. "So, how do I meet this Tom?"

"Well," she said, "his name is Tom Delaney. We met at UW; as far as I know, he stayed in school, and got his degree. I haven't heard a thing about him since I went to Oregon. I did see him once, after you were born, and I told him that you were a boy, and that I'd given you for adoption."

"Wait a second," Janet said. "Did you say his name was Tom Delaney?"

"Mm-hmm," Andrea nodded.

"And he went to UW?"

"Yes."

"How old is he?" Janet pressed.

"He was two years older than me," Andrea said, "so that would make him around 52 now."

"Holy shit," Janet hissed.

"What?" I asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Don't you get it, Kevin?"

I shook my head. Then, slowly it dawned on me. "My god. . ."

Now Andrea was confused. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"My maiden name is Delaney," Janet explained. "My father's name is Tom. He went to UW, and he's 52 years old. I suppose there could be more than one man named Tom Delaney who fits that profile, but if it's the same Tom Delaney. . ."

"Then Janet and I are half-brother-and-sister," I said, finishing her sentence. "Before we get too crazy," I continued, "we should probably call your dad.

Immediately, Janet picked up the phone and called her father. "Dad?" she began, "I've got kind of an odd question for you."

"Okaaaayyyy," her dad said, wondering what was up.

"Does the name Andrea Mills mean anything to you?"

Deafening silence emanated from the other end of the phone. "Why do you ask?" he finally responded.

"Well," Janet said, "There's an Andrea Mills sitting here at our table. She's Kevin's birth-mother, and she just told us that his birth-father was named Tom Delaney."

"Holy shit," said my father. "That would mean. . ."

"Well, Dad, if you're that Tom Delaney. . . then I married my brother."

"Holy shit. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Better bring Mom with you."

"Good thought."

Janet hung up the phone and gave Andrea an odd, quizzical look. "You had sex with my dad?"

Andrea gave a thin smile and shrugged. "Well, he wasn't your dad yet. . ."

*****

From our house to Janet's parents' was about a two-hour drive. While we waited for them, Andrea and Janet and I started to work through the implications of the new information.

Suddenly, certain things were becoming clearer to me. For one thing, the uncanny 'resonance' that I had with both Janet and Andrea, now seemed to be a clear function of our respective genetic connections. No wonder Janet just 'got' me, on that deep, unconscious level.

Andrea raised a different, more troubling question. "Can you even be legally married to each other?" she asked.

Janet grimaced. "Oh shit. . ."

"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" I rejoined. "I mean, we got married legally and in all good faith. How were we supposed to know that we were long-lost half-siblings? How was anyone supposed to know? Now we've been married for six years, and we've got three kids together. Breaking that up at this point would just seem cruel."

"But. . . you could have children with two heads! Or, you know, something weird like that."

"Maybe I should get myself snipped. But the kids we've got seem normal enough, and at any rate, we can't send 'em back, can we?"

Janet just gave a low whistle. "Man, this is so weird. You're my brother!"

"Half-brother," I corrected her. "But yeah. And my father is also my father."

Andrea turned to Janet. "Did you know about Kevin? Well, not Kevin personally, but did you know that Tom -- your dad -- had fathered another child?"

Janet laughed. "One time, when I was in my teens, Dad got drunk and rambled on, something about having a son before he and Mom had gotten married, but I never thought to take it seriously. And now -- good grief! -- I'm married to him!"

*****

When mys arrived, Tom -- who I'd taken to calling 'Dad' just as an affectionate shorthand, since he was my father-in-law -- walked through the door tentatively, almost cautiously. When he and Andrea saw each other, there was instant recognition.

"Hello, Tom," Andrea said, with a calm smile. "It's good to see you again. Although, I have to admit," she said with a chuckle, "I never imagined the circumstances."

"No shit!" he responded. "Andrea, I am so sorry for how I treated you when you were pregnant. I have no excuse. Can you ever forgive me?"

Andrea smiled. "I've long since forgiven you," she said. "We were young and stupid. And I haven't had a bad life, after all. By now, I even have mostly fond memories of you, and the time we were together. And you seem to have done all right, yourself. You and your wife have been married for a long time, and you've made a lovely daughter -- and a lovely daughter for me. So, thank you for that."

Tom and I turned to face each other. "I really don't know what to say," he said. "I always knew that, somewhere out there, I had a son. And I always hoped that I'd meet him someday. But now. . . I've known you, and you've been a part of my family, for years, and I never knew it was you. . ."

"It's a little shocking," Janet's mom chimed in. Then, turning to Janet with a pained look, she had one more revelation to add to the already-bizarre mix. "Janet," she began, "you've probably figured this out by now, but I was pregnant when your father and I got married."

Janet's eyes got wide. "I never even thought about that," she said, as she counted the months from her parents' anniversary to her own birthday, finishing just short of six. "Mom!" she exclaimed, with a giggle and a wink.

Andrea looked at Tom. Her face was somewhere between shock and bemusement. "You mean, you did it again? Got another poor girl pregnant out-of-wedlock?"

Tom grimaced, and hung his head. "Well, at least I learned from my first mistake, and married Marie. . ."

Andrea laughed, and her mirth was contagious. "Well, aren't we just the oddest, most decadent group of people! Tom knocks up the two of us, and then his two kids end up marrying each other! Perfectly perverse!"

"I'll drink to that!" Tom said, raising his glass.

In the midst of all the mirth, my mind took a serious turn as I contemplated the whole picture as it was all laid out before me. "Maybe it's best," I mused, "if we all don't dwell too hard on Janet and me having the same birth-father. I'm still part of the Schmidt family that adopted me, and we got married on that premise. It's a really weird twist, and we don't need to pretend it doesn't exist, but it doesn't have to be central to our lives, either. Does it?"

"Well it certainly can't get much stranger," Janet chimed in. "But. . . it is what it is. . ."

"For sure," we all agreed. "It is what it is!" 

*****

Later that evening, after Janet's parents had gone back home, and Andrea had turned in for the night, Janet and I were sitting together on the couch, still dizzy from all the bizarre revelations of the day. But none more bizarre than that, out of the thousands of people I'd met in the course of my life, I had met my own half-sister, not knowing who she was, fallen in love with her, and married her. It all made my head hurt.

I turned to Janet. "Well, sis. . ." I chuckled, "What do you say we go to bed? I'm thinking we could use some really good stress relief."

"That's just the best idea I've heard all day," said my wife. Who, I was still struggling to grasp, was also my half-sister.

And the two of us stood up, walked down the hall, and went to bed. . .



Who Knew?



Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends. Okay, I've always wanted to say that. Before we get started let's get a few things out of the way. First off I really have to say thanks to all of you. Over the past two weeks I've gotten so many letters of encouragement and support that have helped me with my editing problems more than any of you could ever realize. I'm very grateful. Next, I'd also like to thank the many people who volunteered to edit for me and to my best friend mikothebaby for being there to guide me and tell me what to do. I'd also like to thank Ntropy586 for editing this story. He did an incredible job and he did it very quickly. Of the four editors who looked over the story he was the only one who kept up with my insane pace and he did it almost casually. Okay folks this is a long crazy dramatic story with very few sex scenes, so those of you who are only here for the bump and grind will probably be disappointed. My suggestion is to read it in sections instead of all at once, but I like to give you guys the whole thing so you have a choice. I promise next week will be a shorter tale with more sex. SS06

* * * * * *

Bondage. 

Just thinking about it or just the word puts all kinds of nasty things in your mind doesn't it? I mean, in a way it really does get your juices flowing to consider me standing here blindfolded with my hands cuffed behind my back in a room full of men waiting to do bad things to me. The only thing they're waiting for is Josh. It seems like one way or another I've spent my entire life waiting for Joshua Eric McVay. Today is just another example of that. I'm just standing here waiting. There are goose bumps all over me and I'm scared shitless. Because of the blindfold I don't know who's around me or exactly where they are. When Josh gets here, the fun will begin. Josh is the man of my dreams and the love of my life, so it's really important that he be here. While we're waiting for him, let me tell you about my life. This is probably going to get nasty, so you might not want your kids around while we talk.

I first met Josh, holy shit...I forgot to tell you who I am. My name is Brianna McVay. Yes, dammit that is my name. I refuse to change it back. What...? Okay yes, you may have heard of me under a few different names. I went by Tasti Pucci, during my first porn career. And I did another bunch of Movies where I pretended to be German and called myself Gittner Hole, but I really am Brianna McVay. I was born Brianna Kent, but when I married Josh, I got his name and never gave it back. Anyway, I met Josh in high school. We were the same types of people. What I mean by that is that neither of us was extremely popular, but we were also not untouchables. We weren't nerds or picked on, but we also weren't a part of the beautiful people clique that every high school has.

If you really look at it, the nerds are just as famous as the jocks, because they stand out and everyone knows them too. Sure they stand out and everyone knows them because they're usually socially inept, but that makes them famous as well. Remember back to when you were in high school. The jocks and their cheerleaders were famous all over the school right? They were famous because they stood out and everyone knew them or knew who they were. They stood out because of their athletic ability and their social skills. Or they stood out for their charisma or beauty. They probably weren't as smart as some of the people in the school but in a lot of ways they rode whatever gifts they had to full on success in high school. The teachers probably gave them slightly better grades than they deserved because the team needs Johnny in the game Saturday. Or they give Cindy a C instead of a D or an F because she has incredible boobs and they just love to see her bending over in that skirt.

On the other hand, the nerds stand out too. Everyone knows them just as well because of their perceived brain and their social ineptitude. Notice that I said perceived brains. Contrary to popular knowledge, not all nerds are as smart as we believe. Some of them are brilliant, while others are brilliant when it comes to completely inane things. Like the guys that aren't any better than anyone else at math or can't even fucking spell, but they've memorized every God damned episode of Star Trek, to the point where they can actually speak Klingon. There's a hell of a lot of jobs out there where being fluent in Klingon is a requirement, right? Well, at least the furniture salesmen love to see them coming. A lot of furniture salesmen make bonus commissions selling couches for these guys to put in their mom's basements. Add a big ass TV to that and you have nerd-vana.

Anyway, these guys' peculiarities and social foibles make them just as noticeable as the jocks and people talk about them around school equally as much, just not in a good way. The teachers give them breaks, too. I can just see them saying something like, "Well Poindexter is really smart. I'm sure he knows the material. I see him reading the book all of the time. (Poindexter actually had a Spiderman comic inside of the textbook) I'm going to pass him because he probably didn't do well on the test because all of those jocks are always picking on him. Just last week the linebackers all got together and gave him a group wedgie. They pulled his drawers so far up his ass that he was using the waistband to keep sweat off of his forehead in gym. I don't want to add any extra stress to his life so I'm going to pass him. He's smart; he'll figure this all out some day.

So there you have it. The jocks are famous. The nerds on the other hand are just as famous. Both of those groups, the elite and the deelite (yes I just made that word up and if you've been paying attention you already know what it means) generally make up ten percent of the student body or less. The rest of the students are just bodies and faces in the crowd until they do something to call attention to themselves.

That was where Josh and I fell. We were so far from being noticeable that if we did go to a football game the ushers usually told us that the section of the stands we sat in was reserved for the home team. We actually had to prove that we attended the school. I was sure that if we ever went back for a reunion, everyone would sit around and argue over which one of us was the one who attended the school and which one was the non-attending spouse.

When we did meet though, it was magical. It was halfway through my junior year. We had one of those assemblies where they call all of the juniors to the gym instead of the auditorium. Once there we had to pair off so they could teach us how to dance to get ready for the upcoming junior prom or dance.

These things were generally awkward because the popular kids already knew how to get along or act at them, which just proved again how far superior to normal humans they were. Everyone else was left feeling out of place and in need of rescue.

In my junior year, I was often mistaken for a nerd. I was five feet tall and thin as a rail. Most of the people in my class considered me a UFO or a ghost. UFO stood for unnoticed female object. The reason why I was unnoticed wasn't my fault. It was my mom, shit it's genetic. My mom raised us as vegetarians. I didn't know any better. So I had no boobs and no butt which gave me the super power of being totally invisible to teenaged boys. 

So that day, there in the gym with my knees knocking, I watched as most of my friends paired off with boys that they knew. I was in abject fear of being one of the last picked and having to be assigned a partner. Even the fat girls were getting picked. I felt like a pariah. My long frizzy black hair fell to below my waist. There were days when I felt like Cousin It from 'The Addams Family.'

Into all of that confusion and stress stepped Joshua McVay. Josh was already tall and good looking. He could have played any sport he chose, but his family needed him to work after school. So not having time to pursue athletics or popular kid activities relegated him to nobody status. It was my lucky day. He walked right up to me and took my hand. 

"I'm sure a lot of guys have already asked you to be their partner," he said. "But, I just thought I'd try my luck just in case. A lot of really pretty girls don't get picked because guys are too afraid to ask them and be turned down."

I was tongue tied and all of my friends were green with envy. Even some of the cheerleaders started preening and clearing their throats. 

"Well no one has actually asked me yet," I said. His smile lit up the room. 

"Great! I don't really know a lot of people here," he said, "so could you be my partner for whatever we're doing?" I was suddenly rendered unable to speak. I just nodded my head. We stood there together and talked for a while. If I told you what we talked about, I'd be lying because I don't remember a single word of it. All I remember was how nice his breath was and how white and shiny his teeth were. I remember the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he laughed and the sound it made. I also remember girls all over the gym looking at me and I could tell that some of them wanted to beat my ass, but I was so happy that none of it mattered.

That day was only the beginning. Josh was one of those guys who was simply too nice for words. Over the following few weeks leading up to the dance, every time he saw me, he came over to speak to me. If I was sitting at a table eating lunch with my ghostly friends, he'd wander over and very soon there were others guys coming over to talk to him. He always made it a point to introduce me to them. Girls who were interested in him came over and again he'd introduce me to them. People around the school began to speak to me simply from that. 

When there were only a few days left before the dance, a couple of guys actually asked me if I was going. I guess they were trying to find dates at the last minute. One of them asked if Josh and I were going steady. I guess he didn't want to get in the middle of anything. Most of them were shocked when I told them that I wasn't planning on going. Actually I could have gone, but since Josh wasn't going, I didn't want to go either. I guess I'd fallen in love with him the moment he looked into my eyes in that gymnasium.

The biggest surprise came for me the Monday before the dance. Josh came over to me and he looked really worried. He told me that he didn't want to upset me but he had a problem. I looked at him intently. If he had a problem, then I did as well.

"Brianna, is there a chance that whoever invited you to the dance might let me dance with you?" he asked. 

I looked at him in shock. "I guess I am going to the dance after all," he said. "My parents, my mom especially, really want me to go. This is our busiest time on the farm, but they want me to take that time off. They said something about enjoying my youth and making memories."

My face lit up. I just stood there and smiled. "There are a couple of girls that asked me who I was going with," he said. "So you can tell whoever you're going with that they can pretty much pick who they'd like me to go with and dance with them a couple of times."

"Why?" I asked, putting my hand on my non-existent hip.

He put his head down and looked at the floor. When he looked back up, I saw sadness in those huge gray eyes. 

"Because I'd really rather go to the dance with you," he said. "But since I didn't know that I was going, I couldn't ask you in time."

"No, that's not what I meant," I said. "I mean, why do you want to go to the dance with me? Why do you like me? Before you asked me to be your partner in the gym nobody knew that I was alive. Now, three guys asked me to go to the dance. I don't understand any of this. I'm too skinny. I don't have any boobs and my hair is frizzy. My glasses are so thick that my neck muscles aren't strong enough to lift my head. Some of the prettiest girls in the school want to beat my ass over you. And now you're standing here looking like your dog just died. Why, am I so important to you?"

"My family does okay," he began. "We live and work on a farm that has been in our family for a lot of years. Being on a farm makes you look at things differently. You have to figure out what will happen not over the course of one season but over the course of several seasons so you don't overtax the soil and deplete it."

"In my spare time I like to take photographs. That gives me an eye for detail and for composition. I'm also great with identifying the characteristics of livestock. I can tell when an animal has good lines...Shit, I'm doing terrible here aren't I?" he sputtered. I sat there with an amused look on my face, enjoying seeing him squirm like this.

"I'm used to not just seeing things as they are," he said, "but to looking at what they may become. Too many people base their lives on what went on or what's going on in high school. I have to look at the future. These four years won't mean shit when you compare them to the rest of our lives. And you're going to end up being the prettiest girl to ever come out of our class. My dad always tells me about his twenty year reunion. All of the cheerleaders weighed close to three hundred pounds and looked like shit. They were still trying to force their fat asses and big bellies into short tight skirts hoping someone would tell them that they looked exactly the same."

"Some people simply peak in high school," he said. "They spend the rest of their lives trying to relive their glory days or get revenge for things that are locked in their memories. At the end of their lives they realize that those four years they wanted to live over and over again weren't nearly as important as the next sixty years of their lives that they wasted. So you threw a football and made a touchdown, whoopee! Twenty years from now, who'll remember it or care?"

"I want to find someone that I can spend the rest of my life making memories with and..." Before he could say anything else, I put my finger over his lips.

"Three boys asked me to go to the dance," I said. "I didn't say yes to any of them because I wanted to go to the dance with you, too." If this had been a movie we'd have probably started kissing and violins would be playing in the background. But we weren't, so they didn't. But it would have been cool. We were both too young and too innocent for the kissing thing too. We did however go to the dance. And it was great.

* * * * * *

You took my hand, you showed me how.

You promised me you'd be around.

Uh huh, that's right.

* * * * * *

The dance was the beginning of us and, as I think about it, that was the beginning of a life spent waiting for Josh. Josh never did anything on anyone's schedule, except his own. He did everything, exactly when he wanted to or was able to and things always worked out great. As for me, I was in love and I only wanted to be his. Josh was very shy. There were some things that I had to wait forever to happen. Like when we went out and people asked if we were boyfriend and girlfriend and Josh would change the subject or shyly look away. He'd look like he was going to kill any guy who looked at me funny, but he couldn't ask me to go steady with him. 

The summer was worse. In the middle of our last week of school my mother, who'd been sick for a while, passed. It hit me especially hard because my mother and I had always been close. I just didn't understand her death. She confided in me when she was hospitalized and knew that she wasn't going to make it. She'd known all along; it was cancer. Breast cancer took my mother away from me. Well maybe it wasn't the disease. Maybe it was her inability to face the disease and the possible changes to her life.

Josh sat with me at the funeral and never let go of my hand. I cried on him and ranted to him about how unfair it all was and he listened to every word and came back for more. My father's older sister moved into our house to cook and clean for me, dad and my siblings. From that first week, while we were still getting over my mom being taken away from us, she changed our lives totally. Aunt Sally was divorced and from the city. She did three things that changed my life quickly. She took me to an eyes doctor and got me contacts. She told my dad that it would be cheaper in the long run because I was always breaking my glasses or losing them anyway. I couldn't lose them if they were in my eyes.

She also got my hair cut, permed and styled. It was still long but it was long with a tiny bit of a wave to it instead of frizzy and dried out looking. She got it cut to only the middle of my back instead of below my butt. Aunt Sally was never one to mince words. "There's no reason for your hair to be that long," she snapped. "It isn't sexy at all. You look like an Amish woman or a hippy. How the hell do you wipe your ass?"

The next thing Aunt Sally did was to ransack my virgin body. Okay, Aunt Sally was deeply hetero, so it's not what you're thinking. I'd been a vegetarian all of my life. Aunt Sally introduced us to meat. My brother and sisters told her that being a vegetarian was healthier and that our mom had sworn by it.

"I loved your mother," said Aunt Sally. "She was more like my sister than my sister. And I know she believed in all of that vegetarian stuff but where did it get her? Your father..." Like lightning we all turned to look at our father. He hung his head.

"Alright, I admit it," he said. "I do sneak into town for the occasional burger."

"And I remember you ate a hotdog when you took me to the ballgame," spat my brother Bobby.

I shrugged my shoulders and took a bite of the roast Aunt Sally had cooked. It was like a different dimension in life opened up. I stared at Sally and swore that I'd never eat Tofu or a mushroom burger again.

My brother was with me, but it took a while for my sisters to come around. Over that summer Josh and I were never apart. He worked his ass off on the farm and I followed him around like a puppy and even helped him when I could. Maybe it was working on the farm, but I'm pretty sure that it was the meat. All I know is that when I went back to school, I weighed twenty five pounds more and it was all tits and ass. My hips and my legs were bigger and curvier. I guess since the changes came over the course of the entire summer Josh and I hadn't really noticed them. My hair and the absence of the glasses, plus the light sprinkling of makeup that Aunt Sally had taught me to apply made a big difference too.

The first day in school more than ten boys came over to introduce them-selves to me. I finally had to explain to them that they'd gone to school with me for most of their lives and had never paid me any attention. I also told them that I had a boyfriend and was planning on marrying him someday.

"Who's that?" asked Josh, looking really pissed. He was already upset at all of the attention I was getting.

"You, dummy," I said. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No," he said. "Brianna, I should have said something or asked you something, but I was always afraid that you'd say no. I was going crazy thinking that now that you're so pretty you'd be tired of me and want to go with someone popular."

"Josh, I'd never say no to anything from you," I told him. "Besides that, I took your words and I believed in everything you said to me. Yeah huh, that's right." We just looked at each other and smiled.

Remember all of the things that I said before about how stupid and shallow high school was? I take them all back. My senior year was the shit. It was the best fucking year of my life to that point. Josh and I broke down a lot of the barriers in that school. We almost totally eliminated the caste system. Josh was ruggedly handsome and so big and strong that everyone knew he could have played football but simply chose not to. I guess from the numbers of guys who made fools out of themselves over me it was obvious that I could have been a cheerleader but also chose not to. We were very popular without having to do all of the typical things that popular kids do. We had cookouts on the beach and invited big groups of friends from all of the camps. It was heaven.




Who Knew?



Josh and I started making plans then for what we wanted to do with our future. We didn't have any money. I guess our lifestyle was like a lot of young people. We got married and moved into a crappy apartment to work towards our dreams. Some days we had trouble keeping food on the table, but we were together and Josh always told me we'd make it. It was only a matter of time. Josh was working construction and going to photography school at night. I was waiting tables. My waitressing jobs were very sporadic. Some days I'd show up to work and find out that I no longer had a job because the owner's daughter was back in town and needed a job or some other bullshit story like that.

I have to be honest here and tell you that Josh hated me working. I guess I was like his precious jewel or a princess. I was supposed to just sit home on my pedestal and watch my man work himself to death to take care of me. You have to understand that as much as I loved Josh, he loved me more. If we had barely any money left and a couple of days before we got paid. Josh would bring something home for dinner and claim he had a stomach ache and couldn't keep anything down. I'd stuff myself and didn't realize that he was going hungry instead of us splitting what we had. 

Josh was also taking pictures and trying to make a name for himself as a photographer. He took a second job working as an assistant to a photographer to help make ends meet. Sometimes at night The rumbling from Josh's twenty year old Mustang's exhaust system would have just died in my ears when it was time for him to wake up and go back to work. Josh was literally working himself to death and I couldn't let it happen. He was always cheerful to me. He always told me that he loved me and things were going to work out for us. And I believed him. I believed him with all of my heart, but I knew that sometimes you really couldn't just depend on fate. Sometimes fate needed a little bit of help to get her ass in gear. So instead of watching Josh work himself to death, I took a job that I knew he'd never approve of. 

...but I did it for both of us. 

'A Touch of Class' was anything but. It was a massage parlor that was all the way across town from our apartment. I'd heard about it from one of the girls I'd spent time waitressing with. She'd told me that it was a good place to get some quick money and that it was possible to make a lot of money there, if I was willing to do extras.

I was only looking for some steady cash to help us stay afloat more easily. Josh working two jobs was killing us. It wasn't that I loved him one iota less, but I needed more time with him. My sporadic waitressing simply wasn't getting the job done. Besides that, since we'd moved to the city I'd gained four pounds and Josh had lost ten. I'd finally caught on to his stomach ache routine last month. I must be stupid that it took me over a year, but I noticed that he only got those stomach aches when the fridge was empty. He also bought me things to eat that he didn't like so he really wasn't tempted.

Someone who loved me that much was worth any sacrifice. So I told Josh that I had a job waitressing across town. He kissed me and handed me his car keys. I drove over to the address and locked the Mustang. It was a piece of crap but Josh loved the car so I didn't want anything to happen to it. I did notice that there were lots of nice cars in the parking lot.

I hadn't ever been in a massage parlor before. I walked in and spoke to the woman behind the counter. She was an older Asian woman. She asked me if I wanted a massage. I told her that I wanted a job and her eyes lit up. She escorted me behind the counter and into an office she gave me a seat and after a few minutes a man came in. He wasn't what I was expecting. He was a white guy, older and balding, with a bit of a gut. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a while and he was wearing what looked like it was once a suit but he had slept in it. I looked down at his feet he had on very expensive loafers but no socks. 

All of a sudden it clicked for me and I had to fight to keep a straight face. I was sure that there would probably be an old ass Ferrari outside in the parking lot. As the guy looked me over it was all I could do not to laugh. Then I remembered that I was here to get a job. I cursed Don Johnson inwardly for making all of these old guys think that wearing a wrinkled suit and not shaving was sexy.

"I'm Sonny," he said. "Wow you really look happy." It was all I could do not to just burst out laughing in his face.

"So when can you start?" he asked.

"Um, won't I need to be trained?" I asked. "Don't we need to talk about money?"

"Look sister," he began. "This ain't that kind of massage parlor. All the guys want here is some chick rubbing on 'em. You'll learn. And we pay what we pay. There are ways to make more...a lot more actually but you may have to work yourself up to that. When can you start?"

"Well, tomorrow would be good," I said.

"We open at noon," he said. "Be here a little early." I went back to our apartment and made dinner. I picked Josh up from work and told him the good news. I told him that I had a regular job so he wouldn't have to work both of his jobs. That way we could spend more time together. He was happy but skeptical. I'd had jobs before. He hugged me the way he always did and it worked the way it always did. I loved Josh so much. 

I hated working at the massage parlor. Beside me there were lots of tiny Asian women. I became popular simply because I was different. Sonny had convinced me that I'd make more money and get better tips if I wore less clothing. I was to the point where I simply wore my underwear with a cover up. I'd noticed that a lot of the women were nude under their cover-ups. I would never do that. Sonny was constantly after me to do extras. He told me that I could double the amount of money I made by giving a nude massage and hinted that even more might be possible under the right circumstances. When I left the massage parlor every day, I just felt dirty. I felt like I needed a shower or three just to be able to touch Josh or let him touch me.

Once the money started coming in, we were able to relax a bit. There was no longer a worry about whether we'd be able to pay our rent or whether or not we'd eat. I'd started saving a little bit of money to put away for things like a television or new tires for the car. But as soon as we got one thing there was always something else that it would be nice to have. Before I knew it I was wearing nothing under my cover-up like the other girls. The biggest problem I had was that I often left the room when the customers got grabby. If any of them even looked at me like they wanted to touch me, I called security or ran out of the room. I also steadfastly refused to do any kind of extras. Several of the other girls there did extras all the time and it never affected their relationships or marriages, but that was one line that I simply wasn't going to cross, ever. Sonny had a sideline where he did photos and videos. His photographers and cameramen were always telling me how much they'd love to do pictures or videos of me. I refused that too.

After I'd been working there for about three months things started to go bad. Sonny told me that a couple of the customers had complained about me. I was sure it was because I simply never let them touch me, period. When I say they couldn't touch me, I didn't mean sexually. I meant that I didn't allow even incidental contact. I guess that seriously, I thought the place and all of our customers were slimy. As soon as Josh and I were on our way, I'd get the hell out of there and the sooner the better.

Sonny told me that he was going to help me to feel more at home around the customers but I needed to relax. He poured me a cup of relaxing tea and told me to give him a massage. There was something in the tea. As I massaged him he made suggestions about my technique that could be better. He knew a lot more about giving massages than I'd ever given him credit for. 

He had me stand near his head while I worked, then he did something unusual. He started blowing air out of his mouth so it gently touched my legs. He didn't actually physically touch me so I didn't get my guard up. I concentrated on the massage and improving my technique. I really didn't want to lose that job since Josh and I really needed the money.

I was so intent on the massage that I didn't pay any attention to what was going on. The next thing I noticed was that my pussy was itching something awful. Sonny had stopped blowing on my leg and was gently blowing warm gust of air onto my pussy. It felt really good. I started to say something but he looked up and I held it back. It really did feel good. 

Josh and I made love all the time and I really had nothing else to compare it to, but the way Sonny's blowing made me feel was different. With Josh all he had to do was to touch me on my arm and I was ready to fuck him. Shit, he didn't even have to do that. I loved him so much that whatever he wanted to do to me was fine. When we had sex, it was like all of my insides strained to caress him. The only reason I wasn't already pregnant was that we were on the pill because we just weren't ready in terms of either financial resources or maturity to have children. But Josh rang my chimes every night.

What Sonny was doing though was different. Josh was just an average guy. His technique probably wasn't nearly as sophisticated as some of the things Sonny did. But Josh could get me wet just by looking at me. Sonny on the other hand couldn't get me wet with a super soaker, or so I thought. As I massaged him, his steady blowing was lighting my pussy up. I told him to stop. He laughed at me and told me he hadn't touched me. I started trying to move or change the angle that I faced him at. He was patient. He just waited for me to lean into range.

"I smell pussy," he said. 

"So what," I said. "Just because you smell it doesn't mean anything." But it was all bravado. He had me ready to pop. I was alternately trying to either close my legs or spread them wide enough to give him access.

Then I made my worst mistake. I leaned over so I could reach the center of his back. Sonny's tongue shot out and swiped across my pussy. It was like being struck by lightning. I went into shock and a moan escaped my mouth. Sonny knew that he was in the home stretch. He reached out with both hands and grabbed my legs and just started licking my pussy like there was no tomorrow. His rough tongue was just taking shots in the dark. Sometimes it stroked through my nether curls and other times he hit pay dirt. Every time he actually connected with my labia, I went into shock.

Before I knew it he'd grabbed my arm and laid me down on the table and pulled my legs apart. That was when I lost control totally and he just took over. Instead of his random licks he concentrated on just my lower lips and teased me by staying away from my clit. When he finally started to lick and then to nibble it I almost went mad. I slammed my legs shut with his head between them and pulled his head into me as if my pussy was trying to swallow his face.

After a couple of small orgasms he had me primed and when he climbed up on the table and mounted me I was ready to be fucked. Once he started fucking me the thrill ended. Sonny was great at foreplay but when it came to fucking, he was average or less than so. In a flash I regained my senses and realized what was going on. I started kicking and screaming and pushed him off of me and he landed roughly on the floor.

"What's wrong?" he asked smiling.

"You...you raped me," I hissed.

"You never said no, even once," he smirked. "If you had I'd have stopped immediately. I'm not a rapist. I'm a business man, I'm a pervert. I'm a pornographer, maybe even a pimp. But I'm not a rapist." 

"But I didn't say that you could fuck me," I spat.

"You also didn't say that I couldn't," he smiled. "What's wrong, the man at home isn't up to the job?"

"The man at home is more than capable of doing any job I need doing," I spat. "And he doesn't leave me feeling dirty afterwards. I feel loved and needed and special."

"That's because you are...to him," he said. "I on the other hand, don't love you, I don't need you and there is nothing even remotely special about you to me. You're a commodity, nothing more. You're just a pussy. Every woman walking the earth and some of the men, have them. Now that you understand that, things will be better around here for you because you know your place."

"I quit," I said. "My place is at home with Josh. We made it before I had this job and we'll make it without it." I got up and started to get dressed. He shrugged his shoulders and watched me dress. Then he told me not to bother coming back to pick up my last check he'd mail it to me.

"No," I said. "Don't do that."

"Why?" he asked.

"Josh doesn't know that I work here," I said quietly. "He'd be very upset and he's my life."

He just leered at me. "What happened today doesn't need to change anything. You don't want Josh to find out what we did. And I don't want him to either. So what's the problem? You can still make your money. He doesn't get hurt. Because finding out about today, if he loves you as much as you claim would really hurt him badly..." he paused for a second.

"Or are you so selfish that you just have to hurt the guy?" he asked. "What kind of man is he?"

"He's the best man I know," I snapped. "He's everything to me."

"Then why tell him?" he asked. "It will only hurt him. He is not the kind of guy I am. If my woman came home and told me that some guy fucked her, I ask her where my cut was. I don't care who fucks her as long as I get something out of it."

"But don't you love her," I asked.

"Of course I do," he snapped. "I probably love her far more than your husband loves you, and that's for damned sure."

"Then why don't you care if some other guy fucks her?" I snapped.

"Because I'm neither, young enough, or stupid enough to think that love and sex, are the same thing," he said. "We love each other. That means that we want to spend our lives together. It doesn't mean that we're only going to have sex with each other. If she wants to have sex with someone, she should go for it. I'm going to do the same thing. Since you had sex with me, does it mean that you don't love your husband anymore?"

"Of course not," I said. "I'll love Josh until I die."

"Then why do you want to hurt him," he asked quietly. "Look at you right now. It's funny. You're all tensed up and wringing your hands like you committed a great sin. What exactly did you do? You didn't shoot anyone. You didn't force anyone to do anything against their will. And nothing that we did was illegal. It was totally consensual and no money was exchanged. There was nothing wrong with what we did."

I was as he said very tense. I was ready to break out crying at any second. I knew that what had just happened was wrong.

"If anyone did something wrong," he said. "It was me. I've been with literally hundreds of women. I probably know more about what your body will react to and what turns you on than you do. And I know far more than your husband does. Getting your pathetic little pussy was barely a challenge. And to tell you the truth, you weren't that good. I've had far tighter pussies on much older women than you. And you don't move very well, you just kind of laid there and let me fuck you as opposed to fucking me back." 

"Oh, I'm so sorry that having sex with me wasn't any good," I spat with sarcasm dripping from my lips.

"Look Honey," he said. "I know you think that your pussy is gold plated or something, but really it's just pussy. And you don't have to feel like you need to be punished or something, but if you do; why not look at hiding your guilt from your lover boy as your punishment?"

"Alright," I said. All that night I had to try not act any differently. I was trying so hard not to act differently that I was acting differently. I was consumed with guilt. I took at least five showers. I cleaned myself inside and out to the point where my skin was tender. Once we got to bed, I literally tried to fuck Josh to death. I was so afraid that the worst thing possible would occur. I was sure that I was going to find out that Sonny was actually better in bed than Josh was. I was of course wrong. Josh knew everything about me individually. Sonny may have had tons of experience, but he didn't know my own personal like and dislikes. And until that afternoon, Josh was the only man who'd been in me. He was also the only man I ever wanted, period."

The very next day, the dream died. Sonny caught me as I was going into a massage chamber and told me not to flinch if the customer in the room touched me a bit. He wasn't going to try to fuck me or anything but if he bumped up against my ass or tried to sneak a feel on one of my boobs it wasn't the end of the world.

So over the next week or so, I got used to random creeps coming in for massages and as a cherry on top they'd rub my ass or tweak one of my breasts. I started to feel like they were paying to fondle me and the massage was just an extra.

I guess as some kind of defense mechanism, my mind started to imagine that I was two separate entities. When I was at home with Josh I was his loving wife Brianna and I was a completely different woman at work.

One of the old geezers who had become a regular of mine was discussing me once without realizing that Sonny and I were behind him and could hear every word he said. "That Brianna really is Tasty," he said. Sonny laughed about it and started calling me Tasti from then on. I really didn't mind it because it put more distance between the real me and woman who worked in that pit.

It was a short time after that when the beginning of the end came. For some reason Sonny always seemed to talk to me. So when he came into my chamber for a massage I knew that something was up. He closed the door behind him and got on my table. 

"What's wrong Sonny?" I asked. He didn't say a word he just reached out and grabbed my boob. I went into shock and just pulled away from him. 

"Are you out of your God damned mind?" I screamed.

"Keep it down," he said. 

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm horny and you're the lucky girl," he said. His manner was so flat, so matter of fact that it was like a foregone conclusion that it would happen.

"I'm guessing you don't want Josh to find out what happened to us a month ago, right?" he asked.

"You know that I don't," I spat.

"Then whenever I'm feeling a little tight...you'll loosen me up," he said.

"I'll just quit," I said. "You have enough customers here who come in to see me that you'd feel my absence for a while." 

He just smiled. "Brianna, did you know that everything that goes on in all of the massage rooms is videotaped?"

I looked at him and his eyes never wavered. He grabbed my arm and led me out of the room and into the room he had way in the back. The room that none of the girls were allowed into. There he had a bed a couch several different backgrounds for photos and several video and still cameras. There was a computer that he obviously used for editing his photos and videos. He booted up the computer and turned on a video that was already cued to a certain point. It showed him blowing on my pussy. And it looked awful. From the angle it was shot at, you couldn't tell what he was doing to me. It looked like I gave him a massage and then just spread my legs in front of him. He hadn't asked me to do it or anything else. He then just licked my pussy and then I got on the table and let him fuck me. The way the scene faded out, you couldn't tell that after only a couple of strokes I'd come to my senses and threw his ass on the floor. The way the scene faded out gave you the impression that we were just getting started.




Who Knew?



"So do I have to send Josh a copy of this disc?" he asked. I started crying because I knew that if Josh ever saw that video our marriage would be over.

That was how I got started fucking Sonny. I later found out that the reason why Sonny had started on me was because misery loves company. His wife, who also starred in a lot of his amateur porn videos, had left him for one of her co-stars. Sonny really had loved her and so he wanted to make everyone as miserable as he was. He picked me because every other girl that worked for him was already willing to fuck him for a few dollars more in their check.

Over the next few weeks Sonny went through a lot of lube because he became obsessed with fucking me. I never once returned the feeling. Sonny would get on top of me and just pound the shit out of me trying to get a reaction. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I would stare straight ahead and refuse to move or make a sound. He told me it was like fucking a mannequin. He really wasn't enjoying it but he wouldn't stop and let me think that I'd won. 

He still called me Tasti. And again I didn't mind it because that way no one knew anything about my real life. I called him Pushme-Pullyou after the character in the Dr. Doolittle movies. 

"Why the fuck do you call me that?" he asked me.

"Because in the movie Push me-Pullyou had two heads that were the same but faced in opposite directions," I said. He was the same coming or going just in reverse. And I hate fucking you and at the same time I fucking hate you." He looked at me and saw the undisguised hatred I felt for him.

"Sonny one day, you're going to regret making me have sex with you. You're going to know that it was the worst mistake you ever made." He could tell that I was really serious.

"Well it ain't going to be today Toots," he said. "Get up on the table."

Sonny was in my pussy, balls deep when the ham-like fist smashed into his face. He was knocked out of me and onto the floor with such force that neither, he or I realized what was going on. The next thing I knew Sonny was being picked up off of the floor and flung bodily across the room. He was screaming like a girl until he hit the sharp edge of a file cabinet and went quiet. Our two older security men came running into the room with a bunch of the girls behind them. The first guy, Harry, told Josh to stop or he'd kill Sonny. The other guy ran to call the police. Josh punched Harry in the face so hard that he broke Harry's glasses and his nose and Harry couldn't open his jaw for days. Rick, one of the men who worked with Josh came into the room and grabbed him before Josh could resume kicking Sonny's motionless body. Sonny was jerking like a rag doll every time Josh kicked him. There were body parts that shouldn't move that were moving and Sonny wasn't making any sounds at all.

"Josh," stop it," screamed Rick. "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't know," said Josh. He looked directly at me and said, "She's not worth it." I'd seen Josh in every mood he was capable of expressing. I knew that man better than his own mother did, but I had never seen the despair and desolation on his face like I did that day. It was as if he just had nothing else to live for. It was like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. He wasn't trying to decide whether or not to jump. He was only trying to decide whether to jump upwards or out.

I knew then that it was over between us and that I'd never be the same. Every emotion in me all came out at once in a long mournful moan. Josh reached into my purse and took the keys to his car and walked out of the room and out of my life.

"The police are on the way," said the other security guard who'd just gotten back. "Call 911 again and tell them to bring two ambulances," said one of the girls.

Rick who remembered me from meeting me at our house once or twice came over to me. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name," he said. "Why are you here?"

"Rick, are you still friends with Josh?" I asked. He nodded.

"Then when the police come don't tell them anything. Don't tell them that you came in here with him. And don't tell them that you know him," I said. "Please, can you do that for me and for him?"

"Of course," he said. 

"Rick, can you take me home after talking to the police or whatever?" I asked. "I'd kind of like to know how he came to be here, but we can't talk about it now."

I felt bad, but not as bad as I thought I would. I was clinging to the faintest of hopes. Why the hell was my Josh in a massage parlor? Maybe that was why he'd freaked out. If he was about to do what he caught me doing, maybe we could both forgive each other. Maybe he'd forgive me if I had a chance to explain the circumstances of what I'd done. I'd done it for both of us. And I'd never enjoyed any of it. I'd actually hated having sex with Sonny and I hadn't done anything with him that I hadn't done with Josh.

The police came and took statements from everyone. No one had really seen anything. Arlene, the Asian woman who worked the counter had been away from the front when Rick and Josh came in. she hadn't seen anything. By the time she got out of the bathroom it was all over and Josh was gone. None of the girls had seen Josh clearly enough to identify him and they were afraid to as well. I lied my ass off, saying I couldn't describe him either. That left only Sonny, and he was barely clinging to life.

Rick did drive me home, but it was worse than I thought. Josh, my Josh had almost been killed that morning on the construction site. They were working a new building. It was going to be a supermarket so luckily it wasn't very tall. A new crane operator was so busy watching the air conditioning unit he was trying to move to the roof that he wasn't paying attention to the men around the building. The three ton unit knocked several men including Josh off of the building. Two of them were hospitalized. Josh being young, strong and wiry wasn't badly hurt but he did complain of soreness in his upper back and right shoulder as the day went on. His boss was a frequent customer of a massage parlor and told Rick to take him there. Rick brought him to our place because he lived near here and could go home and surprise his wife. Rick, however, was the one who got the surprise.

My problems had only gotten worse. I'd assumed that Josh was coming to the massage parlor for something that I should have known he'd never do. Now, because of me, Josh might end up in jail or worse. Topping it off was the fact that Josh had caught me doing something that I never should have done. There was no way he'd ever forgive me. I slowly walked up the stairs to our apartment. I opened the door and looked around. It didn't look like Josh was home yet. I decided to grab a shower and clean myself up so at least I'd look good for him when he arrived. Maybe if I was lucky he'd let me explain. Josh was, and still is, the only man I've ever really loved. There is no way out of that for me. I can't simply choose not to love him anymore. My love for him has no off switch.

When I got out of the shower I started to put on one of his shirts like I always do, but I decided that under the circumstances maybe that wasn't a good thing. I put on my robe and sat down on the couch so I'd be the first thing he saw when he walked in. 

After the first few hours were over, I stopped crying and started to clean up the apartment. I had the idea that even though Josh wasn't a drinker maybe he was going out to get drunk. I hoped that he'd still be sober enough for us to talk when he came in but I didn't care. I just knew that I needed to explain this all to him and get him to forgive me. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him. When I got done cleaning I pulled the phone over and sat back down on the couch. I jumped up and ran to our bedroom and realized that while most of his clothes were still there, several of his favorite items of clothing were missing. His cameras were also gone. I went into shock.

I sat down on the couch and stared at the door until I fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning I looked at the phone. There were several messages but none of them were from Josh. I was sure that he'd have to come back to get the rest of his clothes. I was afraid to leave the room. I had an idea in my head that if I left. Josh would run in and grab his clothes and leave before I could get back.

I decided that I'd rather die than miss my chance to explain and try to make things up with him. I understand now that I was being totally irrational, but when you love someone the way that I love Josh and think that you might lose them, you'll do anything to get them back.

After sitting there on the couch staring at the door overnight, I needed to go to the bathroom badly, but I didn't move; I just sat there until I couldn't hold it anymore and then I pissed all over myself and the couch. A few hours later the contents of my bowels joined the piss. I wouldn't move. I wouldn't get up to eat or drink or do anything else. I was waiting for Josh. No matter what it took, I would not let him down again. While I sat there on the couch, I was waiting for Josh. My rational brain had simply shut down. To me the longer I waited, the more that he'd see how sorry I was. The longer I sat there in my accumulated shit and piss and tears, the more he'd see how worthy of him I was.

As usual when I was really down, it was Josh who rescued me. This time he didn't do it directly but he did it through others. When Josh left he was gone for good. He'd filed for divorce the very next morning. His boss who was sympathetic to his plight had gotten the company's lawyer to file the divorce for Josh at no expense. Of course I wouldn't find that out until later. So any way, there I was sitting on the couch staring intently at the door. I hadn't eaten or drank anything in over two days and the whole room stank like you'd imagine it did.

Josh, in his sorrow, had turned to his parents. They, in turn, turned to my family and, before you knew it, my brother and one of my sisters arrived at the door to our apartment along with my Aunt Sally. My dad wasn't feeling well and my other sister didn't give a damn about me. I could hear them outside the door and they called me but since they weren't Josh my brain refused to even acknowledge their presence.

They knocked on the door and called to me both aloud and on the phone I heard it ring and looked down at it, but again it didn't matter. I just wanted them to go away and leave me to my mission. Didn't they understand that the only way I'd get my husband back was to prove my worthiness? A short time later they were back with the apartment manager who let them in. My brother stepped into the apartment and stepped immediately back out as the odor of nearly three days of accumulated shit, piss and whatever else I sat in hit him in the face with both barrels.

My aunt braved the room next and looked at me but I couldn't be bothered to avert my eyes. At first since I wasn't moving they thought that I was dead. My Aunt waved her hand in front of my eyes several times to see if I'd react. When I didn't, she put her ear to my chest and found that my heart was still beating. Her standing in front of me blocked my view of the door and I reacted violently, knocking her to the floor. "Stay out of my way, Dammit!" I screamed. "I can't see the doorway. What if Josh comes home?"

"Honey, you have to let us help you," said my Aunt Sally. "Brianna, Josh is never coming back. You hurt him too badly; he's gone. The families -- both his and ours -- loaned him some money to start over. No one knows where he's gone, but your father is very sure that he won't be back. "

"Daddy spoke to Josh?" I snapped. "Where is Daddy? He has to tell me everything Josh said. Maybe we can find him."

"Brianna, what the hell did you do?" asked my sister. "Did you try to poison him with one of your noxious hamburgers?"

My aunt forced me into the shower and cleaned me up. The sofa was a total loss, so my brother and sister dragged it out of the apartment and into the alley behind the building. Later, my aunt made soup for me and I immediately vomited it right back up. Aunt Sally took care of me like I was a baby for the next three days, while my brother and sister returned home the morning after they arrived. Finally, Sally was able to get me to talk about what had happened on the fourth day. 

Though when I told her what had happened, she stood up and looked at me as if she was seeing me for the first time. 

"You did what?" she asked. It was as if time suddenly stood still. My aunt, who since my junior year of high school had stepped in and literally become my mother, looked at me as if I'd attempted to kill a puppy in front of her. I guess I'd expected her to just gloss over the facts and move on to making me feel better. Wasn't that why she came? I started to ask her what Josh had told her, but she cut me off before I could even say a word. 

"Brianna, let me get this straight," she snapped. Her voice was colder than I'd ever heard it. The temperature in the room got colder every time her mouth uttered a sound, while at the same time the heat coming off of her was palpable. She took several deep breaths. I could see the veins in her forehead actually expanding as blood filled them. "The man who has loved you for longer than I can even remember, the one you followed around like a puppy dog, the first person who even sensed what you could become and loved you when you were still that skinny frizzy-haired..., the man who goes hungry so you can stuff your fat ass, you didn't cheat on him Brianna, did you?"

"Of course I didn't cheat on him," I snapped. "I'd never do that, not in a million years. I just had sex with someone else."

She shook her head. "I don't know what that poor boy saw in you. You have to be the stupidest woman on the planet." She walked out of the room.

"Aunt Sally," I yelled after her. 

"Leave me alone, Brianna," she replied from the other room.

After a while I heard her talking in the phone. "Yeah, we were dead wrong. This is way worse than we thought," she said. "You told me that you were loaning him the money because you thought that he loved Brianna enough to come around someday. You thought that the responsibility of living on their own was just too much for them and they were fighting so he wanted to have some space for a while. You figured that after a while he'd miss her too much to stay away from her and they'd get back together, right? Well you can chuck all of that shit out of the window."

I couldn't hear what my dad was saying.

"Shit, Dave, I'll bet he didn't tell them what's going on with the two of them either. Josh has never been able to say one bad thing about Brianna, so he probably just kept it to himself. I, above all people, should have known what was going on. That boy would never leave Brianna; why were we so stupid. You said it yourself he looked like death warmed over."

I wished I could hear what my dad was saying but I could barely hear my aunt.

"Yeah, Dave, there is a reason for him to leave your daughter: she cheated on him. Apparently while Josh was working his ass off to pay the rent on this dive they live in she was..."

"Don't get mad at me. I wasn't here during all of that. I got here three days ago. I don't know all of the details but I feel like wringing her fucking neck. You know that I am probably the worst person in the world for her right now. I had to leave the room to keep from knocking the shit out of her and she's always been my favorite. Whatever. I'm going to calm down so I can go back in and talk to her. Yeah, either I'll or we'll be home in a couple of days."

I heard her pacing the floor and trying to regain her composure. Finally she came back into the room with me.

"Brianna, how did you feel about Josh?" she asked me. 

"Aunt Sally, that's a really stupid question," I said. My aunt was not exactly a svelte athletic woman, but she moved so fast I never saw it coming. My cheek was still stinging from her slap when my senses returned to somewhat normal. 

"I love him more than life itself," I said tentatively.

"No," she said. "That's how he feels about you. You can see it in everything he's done since you guys met. What I want to know is: how you feel about him?"

"But I told you," I said slowly. "I love him every bit as much as he loves me." I told her the entire story. I started back when we first got the apartment even though she knew most of that already. I talked about how I first started working in the massage parlor and everything else up until she'd come to help me. She just looked at me and shook her head.

"Brianna, do you understand just how badly you've hurt that man?" she asked.

"Aunt Sally, I don't understand what the big deal is. Sonny told me that his wife had sex with other people all the time. It didn't mean that she loved him any less. It just meant that her body had needs and she let someone else fill those needs."

She stared at me like I was a fucking Martian. "Isn't Sonny the guy who blackmailed you and fucked you? Isn't he the one who pretty much ended your marriage? And didn't his wife love him so much that she ran off with another guy and left him so miserable that he took it out on you? If he loved her so damned much why did he just start fucking you instead of trying to get her back?"

They were all really good questions.

"I didn't want to have sex with him," I whined. "I didn't enjoy it. I told you how I just lay there like a lump, hoping he'd quit. I really didn't have a choice, Aunt Sally."

"You always had a choice," she snapped viciously. "You should never have gone to work in that pit in the first place. That was a choice. When they expected you to take your clothes off, that was a choice. Do you really think that Josh would have wanted you parading around naked in front of other men? Did you ever tell him where you were working?"

"No," I said slowly.

"And in the end," she snapped. "The biggest mistake ever...was to let anyone in that place touch you. You broke -- no, you destroyed -- your marriage vows then, Brianna. From the first time you let that man con you into having sex with him, God damn you were stupid."

"But Sonny said, that sex and love are different," I said. "He said that there's nothing special about having sex and..."

"There's nothing special about sex to HIM," she snapped. "You tell me, stupid: was there a difference between you fucking Sonny and what you and Josh did?" I couldn't even look at her. I just nodded my head and started crying again.

"Maybe you should come home for a while and be with your family," she said.

"Fuck that, Aunt Sally," I shouted. "I have to find my husband. Where is he?"

"WE DON'T KNOW!" she screamed. "And the last person he wants to see right now, is you. Imagine it: for you, it's a case where you had choices and just continually made the wrong ones. You had to sit through having some guy who had no respect for you sticking his slimy dick in your little pooter, but you had a choice. Josh worshipped the ground you walked on. He put you on the highest pedestal they make and watched you drunkenly fall into a pile of shit. You were his first and only love. You were the standard that he compared other women to. He will not get over this. From now on he will never look at women the same way. For every dog out there, for every misogynist, there's a bitch who done him wrong."

Aunt Sally and I left that same day. We drove all the way back to the small town that Josh and I had grown up in. People around town greeted me warmly. I hadn't been expecting that; I guess I was expecting to be treated like the whore of Babylon. Small-town folk could be overly pious and extremely zealous in their vilification of people. Even when I spoke to mys, there was no condemnation. My husband's mother and father greeted me like their daughter, instead of their daughter in-law. I even got the impression that they were a bit pissed at Josh. 




Who Knew?



"Sometimes that boy does the stupidest things," said his dad. It was then that I realized how right my Aunt was to be angry at me. I also realized just how much Josh loved me. I'd expected him to do the very real, very human thing of lashing out at the source of his pain. I'd thought that he would run back home to his parents and tell them about the terrible things I'd done to him. But he hadn't. Josh hadn't told anyone why we were no longer together. Even after the way I'd hurt him, he'd let them think it was his fault. Even under these circumstances he didn't want anyone to think less of me. It was like he was still trying to protect me even now. And his telling my dad that I'd need someone to make sure I was okay, and getting him to send Aunt Sally only proved it all the more.

I couldn't continue to sit in that house. I started crying and ran away from mys. I went home and just sat in my room crying for the next two days. Finally my Aunt Sally came in to talk to me. Where the rest of the family had been polite if cold, Aunt Sally was strict and truthful. 

"Shut up," she said. "Stop, all of that God damned crying." I was expecting her to close out the sentence with 'bitch'. 

"It's so hard for you, isn't it?" she asked. "Think about it: you're here with your family around you and everyone kissing your ass, trying to make you feel better. None of this would be necessary if you'd been smart enough to keep your God damned legs closed or just to say the simple word, 'No'."

I just looked at her through my tears.

"The person I feel bad for is Josh," she said. "He's out there, all alone, in a strange new city. His heart is broken and he has no one to talk to about all of this. He had no control over this situation. You blindsided him with this shit and he has to go through it ALONE. So Brianna, why are you crying?"

For the first time I thought about what Josh was going through. My heart actually hurt that I had caused that much pain for the man I loved. For the entire time that this situation had been playing itself out, actually for most of my life, I had known one unshakeable fact: that Josh loved me and that no matter what else happened, we'd always have each other.

I suddenly realized that my whole life really had no meaning anymore. I had no reason to continue. Everything that I wanted and hoped for couldn't happen anymore. Our dream of Josh either making it big in photography or us owning our own photo studio wouldn't happen, or if it did I wouldn't be a part of it. The same was true of my dreams of Josh and me growing old together and traveling after our kids had grown up. That was an even bigger blow, because not only would I be growing old alone or with someone else, but Josh and I wouldn't have any kids together.

It got even worse when I realized that throughout my life, starting back in school, I'd met a lot of men, but very few of them treated me like Josh had. My Aunt had hit it on the head when she was talking about the differences between Josh and Sonny when it came to sex. It wasn't just about sex, it was about life in general. Josh always made me feel special, but it was more than that; he made me feel protected and cared about and...loved.

I hadn't met very many men like that in my life. I was sure that there weren't very many of them. There were probably far fewer of them who would even feel that way about me. And the list narrowed even more sharply when you took into consideration the fact that it also had to be a person that I loved as well. Putting all of those facts on the table made my options and my plan going forward amazingly clear. It was enough to make me dry up my tears and focus on what I had to do.

There was no denying it. I had to get my husband back. No matter what it took, I had to get Josh back.

"You're right, Aunt Sally," I said. "This is all my fault. I don't have time to sit here crying. I have things to do." She looked at me again like I was crazy.

"What exactly do you have to do?" she asked.

"I have to find my husband and get him back," I said. Just thinking about it made me smile. I knew it would take a lot of work and probably a lot of time, but I was making it my life's mission.

My brother came into the room then. He looked right past me as if I wasn't there and spoke to my Aunt. "Aunt Sally, could you please tell HER, that there's a woman at the door," he said.

"Why can't you just tell her yourself?" asked Aunt Sally. "She's right here," but my brother just turned and left.

I walked out of the bedroom into the living room and went to the door. There was a girl standing there. I guess maybe she was considered a woman. She looked like a college student. She had on big sunglasses and was carrying a clipboard with a couple of file folders on it. She was chewing gum and she just looked bored. 

She had light brown curly hair that was up in kind of a bun. She was tall and slim with small breasts and nice hips. Her legs were extremely long and thin. She looked like every other college student. Even though I was only twenty three then, she made me wish I was younger. As I approached her, she lifted her giant sunglasses and took a look at me. She had really pretty eyes but everything about her spoke of boredom. I was sure that she was going door to door interviewing people for some stupid class project. I decided that I should kick my brother's ass for setting me up for this shit. Anyone in the house could probably have answered her questions.

"Are you Brianna Kent?" she asked.

"No," I said. "My name is Brianna McVay. I haven't been called Kent in more than three years."

"Are you sure?" asked the girl. She rolled her eyes and hissed, "Fucking lawyers." Then she looked at me and asked, "Would you mind showing me some ID, please?" I went and got my driver's license and showed it to her.

"Shit," she said. "Sorry to have bothered you. Um, I'll be back."

I turned around and looked at my aunt. "Was that a process server?" she asked. "Boy, the guy who served your uncle didn't look like that." I looked and saw that my brother's tongue was hanging out of his mouth as he watched the girl's ass twitch on her way back to her car.

"Was that a what?" I asked.

"Maybe you could do that instead of hooking," said my brother. "But you probably wouldn't, because you wouldn't get to take off your clothes."

"I'm not a whore," I screamed at him.

"I'm sorry, you're right," he said smugly. "Whores get paid for having sex. You got paid for doing massages. You did them naked and threw in the sex for free, my mistake. Besides you're not built nearly as well as that woman."

"My tits are way bigger than..." I began. Then I just stopped. My brother had already made up his mind. If he wasn't on my side, I had nothing to prove to him or anyone else."

"Brianna, you're taking this far more calmly than I'd have thought," said my aunt, while my brother just glared at me. "Can I see the papers?" she asked.

"What papers?" I asked her.

"Didn't she just serve you divorce papers?" asked Aunt Sally. It all came crashing down on me then and I just slumped to the floor.

"No!" I said. I just sat there on the floor and stared. Then I ran into the bedroom and started packing my things. 

"Where are you going?" asked my aunt.

"He can't divorce me if he can't find me," I said. "If I stay away long enough for him to calm down and let the hurt go away, maybe I can explain this to him and talk him out of making the biggest mistake of our lives."

"Josh already made the biggest mistake of his fucking life," said my brother from behind us. I looked past my aunt. I couldn't believe that my brother was supporting me, when just a few moments before he's been calling me names. I guess blood is thicker than water. When he saw what Josh was trying to do, he came down on my side after all.

"Josh is just hurt," I said. "He doesn't see that the divorce is a mistake," I smiled.

"Um, I'm not talking about the divorce," he smirked. "The biggest mistake Josh made was marrying a whore. He's just finally coming to his senses, but you are right to get out of town before anyone around here knows what you are."

I didn't say anything I just continued packing. I realized then that coming home had been a mistake, too. My aunt looked down on me and my brother seemingly hated me. I guess in my aunt's case it made sense. She knew first-hand what Josh was going through. She'd come back to live with us after my mother died because her husband had cheated on her. She'd divorced him and gone to live with her brother, my dad.

I couldn't understand though why my brother seemed to hate me so vehemently. I also didn't really care. It just went to prove something that I'd really known all along. The only person I needed to justify anything to, is the only person who really loves me: Josh. Everyone else could suck it.

My aunt wondered why I didn't want her to drive me home. I took a bus because I was just tired of being around people. If they couldn't help me find Josh I had no use for them. I also realized when I almost got the divorce papers that I was going to need some money. I was going to need serious money. I intended to fight the divorce. Josh was not going to get away from me if I could help it. I just didn't know how I was going to get the money I needed.

I got off the bus at the Greyhound station and took a local bus, dragging my suitcase all the way. When I stepped back in the apartment, I started crying again. It felt so empty being there without Josh. I kept expecting him to come in and tell me about his day at any second. Then the phone rang and shattered the silence. I picked it up tentatively since I didn't recognize the number. It was from inside the city. I knew that because it was a local area code.

The voice was so scratchy that I didn't recognize it at first. "Tasti, is that you?" he asked. I realized that it was Sonny.

"What do you want Sonny?" I sneered into the phone. "I can't believe you have the balls to call me after what you cost me." All I heard was laughter. It started out as laughs and then morphed into a coughing fit.

"You need to come and see me Tasti," he said. "We need to talk."

He gave me an address and I wrote it down. Since he also gave me a room number, I figured he was in a hotel.

"Why do I need to come and see you?" I asked. "What do we have to talk about?"

"We need to get our stories straight for the police," he said. "There are certain things you can't say if you want to keep breathing. Besides, we may have to help each other. I've figured some things out."

I went to the address he'd given me. It wasn't a hotel at all. It was a hospital. I went to the front desk and gave his room number. The nurse there gave me directions to his room. When I saw Sonny, I was shocked. My mouth dropped open. Maybe I'm a bad person but I didn't feel sorry for him at all.

Sonny was lying in a bed with tubes sticking all over him. It had been more than a week since we'd seen each other but he still had bruises all over his face. He also had a nervous tic. Every so often he'd jerk his head to the side and when he did it...it really looked like it hurt.

His hands kept moving and he looked at them occasionally, as if he was having trouble controlling them. I later learned that he still had very good control over his hands.

His lips, or I guess I should say his fat lips, spread out in a smile when he saw me. "Hey, Tasti," he smiled. "It's a shock isn't it?" I'd been under the impression that the scratchy timber to his voice had been due to the telephone, but it wasn't. Apparently his vocal chords had been injured too and it changed his voice.

"Close the door. We have to talk about some things and we need privacy," he said. I did as he requested and we were alone behind the door. The monitors and various machines all reported to the nurse's station and would alert the hospital staff if anything bad happened to him.

"That fucking Gorilla did a number on me," he said. My eyes narrowed and I started talking before my brain caught up with my mouth. 

"He's not a gorilla, and you deserved it," I hissed.

"I knew it," he said. "I might just come out of this okay after all. I wondered why there hadn't been a follow up visit. I also wondered what he'd done to you. But your reaction just now, and the fact that even though you look like your fucking dog just died you're totally unscathed, tells me that I'm on to something." He smiled and he was just as cheesy as he'd always been.

"That guy was your fucking husband," he spat. He started laughing in relief. "Oh, my God, I have a chance. My life may not be over."

"What the fuck are you talking about you cancerous parasite?" I snapped at him.

His eyes widened and he looked afraid. "Please don't call me that," he said. It looked as if he was afraid of me. I snickered and then just slumped down in a chair.

"What's wrong Tasti?" he asked.

"You're what's wrong, you asshole," I snapped. "You ruined my life. All I ever wanted was to be with my husband Josh. Someday he's going to be a famous photographer. Even if he doesn't make it and we lived in a one room shack, I love him and I just want to be with him, but you took that all away from me. You ruined my life."

"I ruined your fucking life," he spat. "What did you have? A shit hole apartment and barely any clothes?"

"Okay, you were in love, so what. A lot of people are in love and they get broken up every day. I was in love with my wife, too. She ran off with some younger guy because he had more hair than I do. It happens. You never saw me crying over that bitch did you? I moved on and you should too."

If he hadn't been in a hospital bed I'd have hit him. We both calmed down and took a breath. "Anyway, maybe we can help each other," he said. I looked at him suspiciously; I just didn't trust him. 

"Look, I told the cops that I didn't know who did this to me," he said. "I told them some guy that I'd never seen before just started wailing on me. I told them that I was blindsided and didn't get a good look at him. Sooner or later they're going to want to talk to you too. They have one of those all points thingies out on you, now. You're not a suspect; they just want to talk to you. If you tell them the same thing that I did, it'll die down and become just a random ass beating. Maybe they'll think it was a case of mistaken identity. That way they never start looking for your husband."

He looked at me as if he was measuring my response. "It was him, wasn't it?" he asked. I didn't nod or shake my head I just kept my face neutral.

"Tasti, I'm in a lot of pain right now. When he threw me across the room and I hit that cabinet he broke my back. They say I'll never walk again. I was lucky to retain the use of my arms. I've never seen that kind of rage in a man who was sane before. Even the guys I'm used to dealing with -- the leg breakers and the hit men -- don't do things like that. They keep all of the emotions out of it. They just do the job and move on.

"What scares me the most is that you must be psychic. Do you remember what you said to me about us fucking? You said that I'd regret making you have sex with me, and I really do regret it. The problem is that I took a loan from some really big guys to start my business. I owe them five movies and they're not the kind of guys you don't deliver to. I really thought that they'd sent that guy to break me up because they thought I wasn't working on them.

"Now that I know that it was just your husband that gives me time to get them their product and move on with my life. So if you don't say anything to the cops about the 'extras' during the massages and what goes on in the back room, I won't say shit about your husband. Do we have a deal?"

I considered it and finally, since I couldn't see any way for it to hurt Josh or myself, I agreed.

"So with hubby mad at you I guess you won't be coming back to work, will you?"

"Sonny, Josh left me," I cried. "He's going to try to divorce me and I'll just die if he does. I need to make money to fight off a divorce, and I need even more money to try to track him down and get him back."

"I can pay you a little bit more to come back to the massage parlor," he said. "But when you talk about lawyers and tracking people down, you're talking serious money, Honey."

He looked at me and started smiling. "I could probably help you to get it, but it would really depend on what you were willing to do."

"Sonny, look at my face, not my tits," I snapped. "I would be willing to do anything on earth to get Josh back."

Two days later I was back working at the parlor. It had been business as usual and Sonny was running the place over the phone. He was funneling all of the special customers through me, so I was making more money. I still barely had enough money to pay the rent on the crappy apartment though. There was no money for lawyers or P.I.'s.

Sonny called me and asked me to come to the hospital. I wondered what the hell he wanted but I went. I was surprised because he was sitting in a wheel chair. 

"I thought that you'd be in the hospital for a few more weeks at least," I said.

"Fucking doctors," he snapped. "They know everything about keeping you alive and absolutely nothing about life. If I'm stuck in here for a few more weeks I'll end up with a bullet in my head as soon as they let me out. They got me doped up so good that I don't feel anything. I have to get back to work."

"Anyway," he said, "how would you like to make some lawyer money?"

"What do I have to do?" I asked. 

"Nothing serious," he said. "Just take a few pictures."

"No," I said. "Hell no. Not a chance. Listening to you was what got me into this position in the first place. I really shouldn't even be working at the parlor, but I have to eat and have a place to stay."

"Okay, Tasti," he said. "I was just trying to throw some money at you. If you change your mind, let me know."

I went back to the apartment. I couldn't bring myself to call it home. Home for me was wherever Josh was. I sat down on the chair that I had pulled from the kitchen and just stared into space. I wondered where Josh was and what he was doing. I hoped that he was thinking about me. Then I had an evil thought. He'd better not be with some other woman, because if he was....

While I was imagining what I was going to do to her, my buzzer rang. I spoke into the intercom and asked who it was.

"Land shark," said a voice.

"Who?" I asked.

"Look lady," said a male voice. "I got a delivery for you. Do you want it or not?" I pushed the buzzer and waited. A few moments later there was a knock at my door. I opened it, expecting to see a delivery man and the bored college girl stood there. She was still chewing her gum and still looked bored. She didn't have the giant sunglasses on but she cracked the gum as she looked at me. "Gotcha," she said. "And this time they got the names right." I was in shock.

"Brianna Kent, right?" she asked.

"Nope wrong again," I said. "Remember I showed you my ID? Let me get it." I ran and got my wallet so I could show her that she'd gotten the name wrong again. 

"See my license clearly says, Brianna McVay," I smiled as I showed it to her. 

"Gotcha, Granny," she smirked. "You've been served." She stuck a packet of papers in my hand, cracked her gum one final time and wandered off. I expected my brother to jump out and lean over to watch her ass moving as she walked away. I stood there with the door open and the papers in my hand. There was no way I could just sit back and let my marriage die. There was a card from an attorney, paper-clipped to the folder. He seemed to come from a very pricey law firm. The only way to fight a lawyer was with my own lawyer. 

I picked up the phone with my hand trembling. "Sonny," I spat into the phone, "how much does the photography session pay?"




Who Knew?



"Well, two grand," he said. "But if you promise me more and the pics are good I could probably give you three."

"Set it up for tomorrow," I ordered, "and I don't trust you. I want the money in cash."

The next day was awful for me. I went into Sonny's back room at the parlor for the first time since he'd shown me the video of us together. Sonny was there in his wheelchair and there was a photographer, but thankfully no one else was present.

"As a bonus, I'm giving you this," said Sonny. I looked at him crazily as he handed me a small file folder.

"There are no other copies, I swear," he said. 

"What is it?" I asked. I was nervous and I was pissed. I didn't want to do this. There was still the risk of Josh seeing the pictures of me and becoming even angrier. But I needed the money. I needed to track him down and I needed to block the divorce. There was also a nagging itch in the back of my mind. I was sure that someone that I knew had at least an idea of where Josh was or was in contact with him.

Someone had to have told that evil little bitch that I was back at our apartment. How else would she have known where to look for me?

"It's the video of us together that I used to blackmail you into having sex with me," he said quietly.

"You mean the video you used to force me to let you use my body," I snapped. "We never had sex TOGETHER. When you say have sex with you it means we both have sex. It means we both got something from it. Sonny, you got something from it. All I got was humiliation and disgust at myself. All I got was the right to be ashamed of what I was doing both to myself and to my husband. So you may as well tell the truth."

"Tasti, I'm sorry," he said. "I can kind of see now that you were right. You were a nice girl when you first walked in that door. So I guess in a way I did kind of help to ruin your life. But it's not all on me. You are a grownup, girlie; you DO have the ability to say no."

"Whatever," I said. "Let's just get this over with. Where's my money?" Sonny pulled another folder out of a drawer. He handed it to me. I opened it and saw the bills. I pulled them out and started counting them.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked. I looked at him like he was crazy.

I counted it and noticed that he'd slipped an extra five hundred in. "Thanks," I said. 

It took only an hour to get the shots they wanted. I wore a wig and kept my face either turned as far away from the camera as I could, or held my expression so contorted that my actual features bore very little resemblance to my normal face. As I walked away, I felt dirty. I felt like I'd just taken one more step closer to damnation. My greatest fear was that Josh would see these pictures and just fling them down in front of me and tell me that they were just another thing to keep us apart. On the other hand, I now had enough money to either hire a lawyer to begin fighting this divorce -- or to hire a PI to find Josh -- but not both. I needed even more money and soon.

I began to realize the enormity of the task before me, then. It had cost me nothing to get Josh to fall in love with me. It had cost me nothing for us to get married and decide to be together forever. Lying to him and taking a job that I knew I shouldn't have, however, had cost me everything. Neither Josh nor I had ever made a lot of money, but when we were together I'd always felt like we were rich. Now I'd have to make a bunch of other people rich, just to get Josh back.

I went home and called and spoke to my aunt. The reception I got from her was frosty. I called mys and they spoke to me for a while. I told my mother-in-law the entire story. I told her about my entire life with her son and how much I loved him and would do anything to have him back. I told her about all of the stupid decisions I'd made and the reasons behind them. She got really angry at me but at least she understood. She also promised me that if she heard from Josh, she'd try to explain my side of things. It was a start. She didn't promise me anything, but at least it gave me hope.

I hired an attorney. I wanted a woman but I ended up with a man. I figured that a woman would understand what I'd gone through. The problem was that the women all looked down on me. Forget about professionalism, all of those bitches had their own opinions and they all allowed those opinions to color our relationship. It was as if they all got to judge me, and found me lacking in moral fiber. Of course it could also have been that, as single women, they saw me as being a fool for throwing away something they'd have died for.

Even the male attorneys had their issues. A couple of them I had to report to the Bar Association because they made suggestions that were less than professional. I guess they figured that the kind of woman who would fuck around on her husband would probably screw her lawyer as well; that simply wasn't the case. Why couldn't they understand that I hadn't done what I'd done willingly? I also hadn't done it to help myself get ahead or to hurt Josh. I loved -- and to this day continue to love -- only my husband.

Most of the lawyers told me that it would cost a lot of money to delay the divorce. They told me that there was no way to stop it. The only thing I could hope for was to delay the proceedings long enough for Josh and I to reconcile. They could file motion after motion. We could ask for counseling. We could dispute every settlement agreement, but in the end, if Josh kept pushing for it, he'd have his divorce.

That made my money issues even worse because it meant that I would need money for the PI as well as the lawyer. There was no either/or; I needed both. The PI had to find Josh so I could try to talk to him, while the lawyer held his lawyer off.

I guess that need for money was how Sonny got me to try porn. The first videos I did were what they call solo videos. I did them the same way that I did the photo shoot. I wore a wig and kept my face hidden whenever possible. The perverts that watched the videos weren't really interested in my face anyway. The videos were badly lit and the cameras only focused on the action. I couldn't believe that anyone would really want to watch me walk around and then just take off my clothes but the videos all sold really well. Besides I was doing it for Josh and me. The next step was the masturbation videos. I got even more money for doing them. I was still shocked that anyone would want to watch me pleasure myself. I thought that it was gross, yet I got nominated for an award for best solo video at the AVN awards. I didn't dare go to the ceremony because I didn't want to become known as some kind of porn star. I especially didn't want Josh to ever hear that I'd done something like that.

Anyway I never thought that what I was doing was nearly as bad as what I'd already done. Having sex with another man had driven Josh from me, so I figured that anything less than that wouldn't matter. I was enjoying the money. Even with what I was paying the lawyer, I had more money left over than I'd ever had before.

This went on for a few months. My lawyer made a motion for counseling. The judge went for it. Josh never even came into town to attend the sessions; his lawyer instead forwarded a letter to the judge. I never found out what was in the letter but the judge waived the counseling. My lawyers refused the settlement that Josh proposed. They asked for a sit down meeting with Josh to discuss things. Since I was making more money, I wanted to give Josh some of it. He refused to even accept money from me. The judge agreed that it didn't make sense but Josh had a right to his stupidity.

The end came sooner than I expected. One of the things that Josh wanted was for me to go back to using my maiden name. I refused; I wanted to hold on to every little bit of him that I had. Josh withdrew that stipulation and the judge granted him the divorce. Josh didn't even show up. I had dressed in the best clothes I could buy, I wanted Josh to see me and want me again. It was the worst feeling ever. I sat in the court room and waited for him to show. I was sure that he'd show up early. There was an older man there and he sat at the table next to mine. Finally the judge came in and reviewed the case. He looked at me and shook his head. He sat there with his glasses perched on his nose and then started talking to me.

"I see here that you've filed a lot of motions and tried to do everything you could to stay married to Mr. McVay," he said. I nodded. "Young lady, your husband wrote me a letter that told me his feelings about the situation. I've also spoken to his counselor. The break up between you was devastating for him. He is only now beginning to be able to function in a normal state. Ordinarily, I'd try to force the two of you to at least speak to each other. I'd expect that the time you've spent apart would force you to at least calm down to the point where you could speak to each other in a civil fashion. But in this case I see no reason to stretch this out, divorce granted. The date will be 60 days from today."

The gavel sounded far louder to me than it actually was. The judge looked at me and said something, but I don't remember hearing what he said. My lawyer said something to him and then started pushing me out of the courtroom. I didn't want to leave. I remember I started crying uncontrollably because I had been hoping and praying that we'd find some way to delay it yet again.

I had never been a big drinker, but that night I drank myself to sleep. The next day Sonny and his nurse came to pick me up for another video and I was too out of it to function. Sonny, friend that he was, took that opportunity to change my life yet again. While I was too drunk to object, Sonny got me together with one of his actors and filmed me having sex. He kept feeding me more liquor and truthfully I didn't want to come out of it. All I knew was that my life was over and I no longer cared what happened.

I think it was "the talk," that finally drove me over the edge. Sonny sat me down and told me that in order for me to move on to the next level I was going to have to start acting. He told me that the biggest barrier to my becoming a star in porn were two things. The first was his fault. Making the movies in the back or the massage parlor was small time and their quality would never make us the money that we really could make. My videos were selling to a small niche market and would probably never go beyond that.

The next step for us was to arrange a distribution deal with a major studio. If we did that we could make at least ten times the money we were making. The hurdle to that, though, was me. I wouldn't be able to hide my face and just lie there and look away from the camera. I would have to act like I was really enjoying it. With the kind of money we'd be making, Sonny assured me, that he could hire better PI's and he would find Josh. My heart quickened when he said that. 

He also told me that he had a plan to get Josh to see me. Sonny's plan was that we'd hire Josh as a photographer to take some pictures of me. Sonny would reject the pictures again and again if necessary until Josh and I had enough time together to see if we could fix things between us. If we did fix things then I could immediately retire and Josh and I could have the money I'd earned to start our new life with. If things between us couldn't be fixed then at least I'd be better off because being miserable is a lot more fun when you have a shitload of money.

So that was how Tasti Pucci hit the mainstream. Over the next three years and over seventy five films I became a star. I was voted best newcomer at the AVN awards that first year and best actress the next two years. I had a nice little house, a very respectable bank balance and I was famous or infamous over most of the world. I never did any gangbang scenes or DP scenes. In fact I never filmed any normal sex scenes at all. What I did mostly was sleep sex videos. Sleep sex videos are the ones where the woman is asleep and her husband, boyfriend, father or some other guy comes in and has sex with her while she's asleep. Even on film I didn't want Josh to think that I was willingly engaging in sex with other men.

The funny thing about it was that over the three years since I'd seen Josh, I hadn't really had sex with anyone. Filming a sex scene actually does involve penetration but it isn't really sex. You may do the same moves over and over again until you get it right for the cameras. You go through a lot of lube and pose for hours sometimes. The guys have to be really gifted to stay hard for the shots. Most of them have had some kind of enhancement procedures done and a lot of them are either gay, married or simply not attracted to the women they do the scenes with. Most of them were also totally professional and treated me far better than Sonny and my own people did.

When I wasn't making films I never left my house. I was pretty much a recluse unless I was doing one of the rare appearances at an adult video fair that I couldn't get out of or one of the even more rare appearances at a club that I was contractually obligated to do.

It was really strange to go out in public and have thousands of guys lined up who were dying to meet me and then go back to my little house all alone, feeling dirty and unloved. I knew that none of those guys new the real me. All they knew was Tasti. They knew nothing at all about Brianna McVay. They all wanted to fuck the "Sleeping Slut." 

It was at one of those events that I met my actual best friend. Cherry Holder was a stripper who appeared both in clubs and at a lot of the AV fairs. She was one of the best dancers around. Cherry really was an incredible dancer. She'd spent her entire life doing ballet, modern, jazz, tap, gymnastics and cheerleading. She'd always wanted to be a ballerina but the same curvy body that made men instantly erect, ruined any chance she had of being a legitimate ballet star. Cherry could do things on a pole that just stunned the audience. She was always in demand and could pretty much write her own ticket. We met in the small backstage area at one of the fairs and have been friends ever since. 

The most surprising thing about Cherry is that she and her life remind me so much of my own. We're both from small towns. Our families had both turned their backs on us. We both focused our lives on one thing that we thought would make us happy. And we both lost that one thing. The differences were that her one thing was being a ballerina, mine was Josh. We also did different things to lose those dreams. She hadn't done anything. She was a victim of genetics. I on the other hand was a victim of my own bad choices.

Our ways of handling the disappointments were different too. She'd always known that her career in ballet wouldn't last forever and saw herself in her waning years opening her own dance studio where she could teach the next generations of dancers. She danced now simply to make money so she could have that final dream. Perhaps she'd taken a different path than the one she'd envisioned to get there, but the final destination would be the same.

It made me look at my life differently too. Meeting Cherry, or Lisa (her real name), made me even more determined to get Josh back if it took me the rest of my life. Josh and I would grow old together and maybe we'd even have those babies, no matter what it took. Time healed all wounds; I'd heard that for most of my life, so maybe it would take time, but I was even more convinced that in the end Josh and I would be together. 

I made Sonny spend even more of my money on PI's. I ramped up the search for Josh. I figured that he'd probably just gone off the grid trying to hide from me. But sooner or later he'd have to get a job or a credit card. Sooner or later he'd have to be hospitalized or, God forbid, he'd get married to someone else. Maybe he'd get a job or file a tax return and we'd have him. Then I'd go to wherever he was and we'd never be apart again. Nothing would separate us. Even if there was another woman involved, it wouldn't matter. She'd have to be ready to fight for him, because I would be.

The most surprising thing about Cherry was that at twenty four years old, she was still a virgin. Here she was, possibly the most well paid stripper in the world, and she'd never had sex. She danced in front of thousands of screaming men every week and simulated the most raunchy sex acts you could imagine, but she'd never done it. Cherry grew up dancing. That was all she'd done. There were daily dance lessons and hours of practice until she dropped off to sleep. There had never been any time for boys. I was spending the weekend following one of our mutual adult industry fairs at Cherry's house when I got the biggest disappointment of my life.

Cherry was into that whole entertainment industry big star thing. I always told her it was depressing because the stars of the legitimate entertainment industry would never accept us. Except for a few fringe cases and bad boys like Charlie Sheen or Bill Clinton, most really famous people would rather have their arms cut off than be seen with a porn star. That was one of the reasons that I didn't even own a TV. Maybe I should have; the blow would have been a lot softer.

Cherry and I were at her home watching one of those shitty, glitzy entertainment magazine shows that are all over everywhere. Cherry developed crush after crush on this star or that. For the last month she'd been crushing on some star photographer called Jim. I'd heard her talking about this fucking guy for days on end. She even had this dream scenario of how it would be when she met him. She's commission him to do a photo shoot of her for one of the adult magazines. Okay, that was crazy enough because this guy was a double threat: he shot legit fashion photos but he also did those unusual art photos that sometimes sold at art shows for prices in the six figure range. Why the hell would someone like that stoop to taking pictures of a stripper? But as a friend, I didn't want to piss on Cherry's dreams. After all she was the one who always told me that someday I'd find Josh and live happily ever after.

So there we were watching Entertainment Nightly or some other stupid show, just so Cherry could catch a glimpse of Jim, when it happened. The story was about Jim and his new fiancé. They showed up at some famous bullshit charity event in Hollywood together and the news of their romance was all over the wires. It's always big news when two of the beautiful people get together.

She was Elena Gornakovski, some world famous model and I went into shock. I was such a fool. "Holy shit," said Cherry. "Both of us are prettier than her. In fact, she looks a little bit like you, but she doesn't have any boobs and no butt. Your hair is shorter than hers though."

I couldn't make a sound. My heart was in my throat and I just fell. When I came back to my senses, I was on Cherry's couch and she was rubbing a cold towel on my forehead.

"What happened?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I croaked.

"Why didn't I tell you what?" she asked. 

"About Jim," I snapped.

"I've been telling you about JEM for months," she said. "He's hot isn't he?"

"Cherry I thought you were saying Jim," I said.

"No. It's JAY-EEE-EM. It's an unusual name, isn't it?"

"It's not his name, it's his initials," I said beginning to cry as I watched him on the screen. "His name is Joshua Eric McVay."

She looked at me strangely as the pieces clicked into place in her mind. Then she grabbed both sides of her head and ran out of the room. She slowly climbed onto her bed and removed a pill from a pill box disguised as a bracelet on her wrist. She chewed the tablet and then lay there as still as she could. After a few moments she relaxed and I started speaking to her again.