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It's What You Wanted, Isn't It?

By: RonRyder



Chapter 1 

Have you done much speed dating? It's dumb really. But at least you get to meet women who want to meet men. That's something isn't it? I presumed that at least some of them would want what I wanted, but this turned out a bit tricky.

When Sheila left me, she said it was because 'All you want is sex!'. I ask you. What did she think a man wants from a woman? Why are we made differently? To be honest, Sheila wasn't the only one, just the last in a relatively long line of women who'd walked out on me. Some were open about the reason, others made lame excuses. But I bet it was the same for all of them. 'All you want me for is sex.' Er, that would be 'Yes!'

Sure I want sex. Lots of it. All the time. It's how I'm made. I don't hide it. 

So anyway, these experiences had made me wary. No more chasing after time wasters. When I went speed dating, I had my spiel all ready. A couple of minutes of small talk then, if I fancied her, straight to the point:-

"D'you like sex?"

You'd be amazed what happens when you come right out with it. Some of them actually blush. I didn't get my face slapped but I'm sure I would have in a different environment. You'd think it was a crime asking a woman whether she likes sex. As though I was about to rape her, or something.

Exactly the opposite is the case. I couldn't rape a woman if I wanted to, which, of course, I don't. I'm just looking for a female who likes sex. Like any guy. What's so damn odd about that?

Once I ran into a woman who didn't react as though she was confronted by a rank pervert.

"Sure," she said. "Who doesn't?"

I thought I'd finally struck oil, until she continued,

"But not with you, you bastard!"

Hey! That's not fair. I'm not a bastard. I'm a nice guy. Honest. I do know how to treat a woman, and sex for me is not a one-way street. If she's not into it, I'm not into it. That's why I ask. I'm not interested in women who aren't 'into it', who regard sex as some kind of bargaining tool. 'You get laid if I get....' whatever they want, about which they're rarely explicit.

There's a speed dating venue close to where I work. They have sessions most evenings and I attend them all. I keep expecting to hear 'A complaint has been made...', or words to that effect, but never did. Maybe women are simply too embarrassed to relate what I'd said. Whatever, the organizers, only too willing to take my money, probably ignore complaints. I just wish they'd find some women who want what I want. They must be out there.

I know what you're thinking. 'The only place you're likely to find the woman you're looking for is in a bar.' Right? Well you'd be wrong. I should know. There's a bar on the corner of the block, right next to the speed dating venue. I'm there most nights. So I know, see.

Women in bars fall into three categories. One sits down, orders her drink, gets out her cell and starts yattering. You can wait for her to stop until they erect an Eifel Tower in Paris, Texas! Two is looking for a shoulder to cry on. Oh, there's plenty of those, and possibly one or two 'ripe for the picking', if you get my meaning. But that's not me. I'm not a predator out to take advantage of a woman who's emotionally upset. I'm not a predator at all. I just would like to meet a woman who wants what I do -- sex. No complications, just sex. 

If you're wondering about type three, those would be looking for a quick quid pro quo, and that is something I'm not into. Is a woman who does sex for money in it because she likes sex, or wants money? Even if both, it's another example of that damn trade off. You get sex if I get....? The only ending to that sentence I'm interested in is 'sex', period!

I'd almost given up when I ran into Angela.

Chapter 2 

I spotted her right away. Tall, slender, long legs under a loose skirt, bare ankles, high-heeled shoes. There's usually one catches my eye. But Angela was an eye-catcher par excellence. It was not only her appearance but the way she moved, not flirtatious, but with a sense of assurance, no attempt to mask her femininity. Quite different from most women who attend speed dating sessions. They're either nervous and show it, or are nervous and overcompensate by being 'busy'.

Well, to cut to the chase, I didn't bother using my line on any of the others. Just bided my time until I got my five minutes with Angela. I must have been nervous myself because the encounter went something like this.

"Hi!" Smile.

"Hi!" Smile

Awkward silence.

"Do you like sex?"

I mean, I usually hold it back until around the four minute mark. So the frosty silence that follows doesn't last too long. Maybe I had a premonition that Angela would be different. Well, I'll credit myself with that, even if it isn't true.

A faint smile crossed her features. She did not reply, just looked at me, not aggressive, staring, shocked, or anything like that. She just looked me straight in the eye. Ok. I'll admit it. That made me nervous. 

The silence went on. It became clear she was not going to break it.

"Er... Are you going to say something? Or are we done?" I said, eventually.

"I'm waiting for your next line," she responded, evenly.

Cheez!

"Er.. Well. Ok! It's this. I'm not much into speed-dating stuff....Y'know, marking cards, an' all."

I waited to see whether she would respond. She did not. Just kept looking me in the eye, expectantly.

"So, well, if you're interested, I'll be in the bar on the corner after the session. It's quite nice. They have booths. We can talk there.... If you're interested."

I suppose by now my nervousness was palpable. She was so calm. It was as if every guy she'd met asked her whether she liked sex. After a brief pause, she said,

"What's your name?"

"It's ...er .... it's on the card."

"I thought you're not into cards, an' all?" she said, mocking me playfully with my own words. 

"I mean your real name," she continued.

"Er... Ron," I stammered. The card said 'James'.

"Well, Ron," the woman turned Goddess opposite me said,

"Are you good at sex?"

"Er.. Well, Yes! I suppose so."

"Suppose so?" Angela repeated. "That's not encouraging."

I found my cojones.

"Ok. Yes. I'm damn good."

"For me, or for you?"

"For both of us."

Brief pause.

"D'you mind if the woman takes the lead?"

"Not at all!" I said, hastily. Then, looking around,

"Maybe we could discuss this in the bar? More private."

"But you started it, Ron," she continued, making no attempt to lower her voice. "Why not here? Are you embarrassed?"

"Er... No!" I lied.

"So if a woman asks you to do things for her, things she likes, things that turn her on, that'd be ok with you?"

"Hell, Yes!" I replied. "Whatever. Give and take, that's the name of the game."

Her look turned a shade quizzical then. I held gaze. It wasn't easy. Blonde hair, blue eyes, penetrating. She was truly gorgeous.

I'm not short on the looks side myself. And that's not bravado, or immodest. I've never had a problem getting dates. At college I had to fend them off. In the office, too, I could have any woman I want. They all make their 'availability' clear. But I know that scenario all too well. They'll do sex all right, but only for a while. Then out comes the quid pro quo, and pretty soon that's all that's left. I tell them the honest truth. 

'But I'm not looking for a relationship. What's wrong with just having sex?'

If they'd believe it and act on it, that would be one thing. But they don't, and there's one thing I can't stand is a woman crying. I'm a sucker for this. When it comes to it, I just can't manage to 'dump' a woman. So the damn thing drags on and on and on until she finally gets the message and dumps me. A week's 'not even very good' sex followed by three months of emotional torment. No thanks. Been there, done that -- all too often.

"So, to be clear, Ron," Angela was saying. "You're here looking for a sex partner. Not a relationship, just sex."

"Yes!" I replied. "And don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about a one-night stand."

"I bet you'd take one, though," she said, seductively, "if it was on offer."

The question threw me, I'll admit. But, hey, when you can be honest with a woman, be honest. That's what I think.

"Erm ... Well, Yes! I suppose I would," I managed.

"D'you like sex with two women, Ron?" Angela continued. "Or many?"

"Erm... I've not tried that, actually. But sure, I'm game for anything."

A sudden thought.

"But not with other guys," I added hastily. "I'm sure I wouldn't like that."

She did not react to this, either way.

Time was running out.

"So, do we meet in the bar?" I asked. "On the corner. Out of here, turn left. 'Joe's place', they call it."

She seemed to consider.

"Who knows?" she replied, airily, as the buzzer went.

You'll believe that the remainder of the session was a blur. I have no idea how I got through it, thinking only of her. One thing's for sure. I did not ask any other woman whether she 'liked sex'. Hell, what if one of them said 'Yes!'.

Finally, the session ended. I looked around anxiously but did not see her in the crowd.

I waited for her in Joe's. The entire evening, trying desperately to stay sober.

I failed, but it didn't matter.

She did not show.

Chapter 3

When I said I was at 'Joe's place' most nights', I wasn't lying. It was conveniently located close to my apartment. I could get tanked and not wonder how I was going to get home. Now I'd met my dream girl, I was for sure going to be there, every night. Until. Until when? 

As it turned out, until the following Friday. The bar was almost full, but the stool next to me was free because I'd just brushed off a hooker. Onto this now slid the slight figure of a young girl. Woman, girl, where d'you draw the line? The bartender thought girl, because he asked for ID. So, ok. Legal to drink. Legal to ...!

Hey! I'm not a predator, honest. But when a guy is sitting at a bar and a girl slides onto the next stool, he's curious, right? So, Yes! The odd glance. At first, the girl did not seem to notice. She did not take out a cell phone. She did not seem disturbed, and she did not have the look of a hooker. (Though who can tell these days?) She did look quite nice, though. 

I worked through the catalogue, seeking an appropriate line. The direct approach, as it were, was blocked because of the crowd. Hey, I don't mind getting my face slapped when it's only Joe and a couple of guys watching. But in a crowded bar, that's different. 

As it turned out, I needn't have bothered working on a line because, after a while, the girl turned to me and said,

"Are you Ron?"

"Yes!" I replied. "How did you know that?"

"I'm good at guessing," the girl said, looking at me full face.

A fresh face, no make-up. Bare arms, a top through which nipples were strongly suggested. Small tits, no bra? She wore jeans, tight. 

My eye was still affixed on the nipples when she said, quietly, but firmly enough,

"You like sex, then?"

An inner voice warned 'hooker', but it didn't quite figure. Caution, though. That was my line, after all. Where had she got that from?

"Sure," I replied. "Who doesn't?"

"So drink up," said the girl, draining whatever concoction Joe had served her and looking at me expectantly.

I hesitated.

"What's the matter? Cold feet?"

"No! It's just...?"

"Just what?"

"Well ...?"

"OK. So I'm leaving. You follow, or you don't. Your choice."

She slid off the stool and began to fight the crowd.

I can't help it. I like slim women, even if they are a tad on the skinny side. Quickly, I drained my glass, and followed.

Outside, the girl had hailed a cab, which was drawing up.

"Hey!" she said as I appeared at her side, "Great."

In the cab, feeling uncomfortable and still not sure, I began,

"D'you mind if I ask...."

"Mandy," she replied.

"So...er...?"

"What, er?"

"Er...Don't take this the wrong way, but are you... are you ... er...?"

"Hey! Is that what I look like?"

"No! No!" I said, hastily and entirely honestly. 

"So why me?" I ventured, after a somewhat awkward silence.

She turned to me then, that youthful face, full lips.

"You look like a good fuck," she said, calmly.

O-kay!

Mandy did not encourage conversation and I couldn't think of anything to say. 'Where're we going?' seemed just too lame. 

"I don't talk much," Mandy said, eventually.

"That's ok."

Of course, I was examining her body as discretely as I could. And liking what I was seeing. She leaned forward for an instant and I got a quick look down her top. Neat tits, and Yes! Nipples nice and stiff. Her hips were quite wide, pressing against the cloth of her jeans. I recalled once meeting a model. She was skinny, too. I'd heard somewhere that the camera added pounds. Just a fleeting thought. You know, the way they cross your mind when you're in the back of a cab with a girl who looks like she could be a model and has just told you that you 'look like a good fuck'!

The cab drew up outside an apartment complex. I was ready. Overtipped, naturally. Not that Mandy noticed. She was halfway down the path before I was out of the cab. I hastened after her.

She held the door. I entered. In the elevator, Mandy made the first move that was overtly sexual. She grabbed my balls.

"Hope you've got something in there," she said, squeezing hard and pressing those stiff nipples into my chest.

"May be a bit rusty," I recall saying.

She looked up at me and it was then that I recognized the sensuality in her eyes. 

"We'll work it out," she said.

I'd assumed she'd meant 'we two' so it was quite a surprise when the door opened to her knock revealing the utterly naked body of a second young woman, who looked me up and down even faster than I could reciprocate.

"Hey, not bad," said this apparition, as my eye gravitated past her pert breasts to a pubis that gleamed in the dim light.

"Hope you're in form," she continued. "We're all aching for it."

All!?

They were five. Clones in body, the only attribute that varied was hair color. Two blondes, two brunettes and one redhead.

This is about all my eye took in as I was led by my shirt sleeves into an adjacent room, my clothes were stripped off and I was propelled backwards onto a bed. I was so taken aback it was some time before I decided I must have died and gone to heaven.

One girl, a brunette, had laid her head on my stomach and drawn my half erect cock into her mouth. Another sucked my balls in and out of hers. A third straddled me and Oohed! and Aahed! as my tongue explored moist pussy lips, the fourth and fifth squatted on either side, directing my fingers, first one, then two, into vaginas that quivered in anticipation.

Which was Mandy, and what the others called themselves, I cared not. Five young, nubile girls? You'll understand why I thought it was a dream.

I was not too busy exploring cunt with my tongue and lips to register that the mouth on my cock had been replaced by a vagina, which engaged my cock to the hilt, then moved up and down, first quarter cock, then half, then three quarters, with regularity. Dimly, my eye picked out the breasts of the girl who rode me, her rib-cage standing out as she drove down, then up, then down again with ever increasing force, pressing my groin into the mattress, then releasing, all the while, my balls held firmly behind closed lips, tongued, sucked, at once pampered and tortured.

The vagina was tight, but liquid. It slid up and down my cock almost without stimulation. But only almost. 

A frenzied pounding of my groin and a muted 'Aarrrgghhh!' presaged a sudden release, followed by the engulfing of my cock in a second vagina, if anything even wetter than the first. Action resumed. A fresh cunt appeared above my face, and pressed down into it so I could scarcely breathe.

"Ugh! Ah! Shit! ....Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh!"

Again a shift. One by one, the girls slated their desire on a cock that, though not 'in practice', as it were, nevertheless held firm.

Then they began again. This time, though, the pace was steadier. Someone stuffed a pillow under my head so I could see the upper body of the girl whose cunt slid up and down my cock. Sinews strained, nipples taut, she'd raise herself up, and slide her groin across mine from side to side, arms by her side, the veins in her neck standing out as orgasm beckoned.

Then the next -- I recognized Mandy. She smiled at me coquettishly, but then went to work on her own pleasure, driving herself back and forth over me and gasping as her orgasm built. 

I was into it now big time, my cock responding gradually to the silken sheaths that encased it, each one more blissful that its predecessor. And all around, those nubile forms, naked, glistening in the flickering light of candles, prominent nipples, flat stomachs, heaving in resonance, slender thighs, parted: fingers straying to stimulate luscious cunt lips....

I have no idea how many times they went 'around' before the pollen was at fever pitch. My cock was on fire, about to explode, but not quite. I can't recall ever a state of such arousal. My body shook uncontrollably, my limbs twitched, my head rocked back and forth on its pillow, my eyes glazed over.

And they knew. Not an instant too soon, my cock was free, cool suddenly. A hand tugged on my balls, another grasped my cock and squeezed. Oh, they made me wait, wait.... Oh! The devils, the fiends... Oh, Oh, Agh! Ugh. OhShit.....!

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

It felt like pints.

When I came to, I was lying on the bed in the form of a star, the girls on their haunches in a semicircle. They looked like the angels they assuredly were. 

"Not bad," one of the girls said.

'Not bad,' I recall thinking. What would she describe as 'damn good'?

I had no time to reflect on this because two girls had moved forward and begun to lick my nipples. A third laid her head on my stomach and slid my limp cock into her mouth, then out, then in. A fourth began to lick my ball bag, and a fifth.... well this time, as her groin descended over my mouth, she faced the other way. My tongue lapped greedily at a clit that peeked out from its hood.

At intervals, the girls rotated positions and I got to taste cunt after cunt, each one unique, each with its 'hot-spots', which were made known to me by the way each girl positioned herself.

How many times they went around I do not know. This was not determined by a clock, but by the state of my cock, which gradually resumed the state of grace. This was tested -- serious sucking and massaging of the shaft -- until some signal indicated 'ready', and mouth was replaced by vagina. But this time, the other way around. I looked up at a long, lithe backbone, squared shoulders. And there was no mistaking that the mouth that sucked from time to time on my balls was obviously engaged elsewhere as well. 

Oohs, and Aahs preceded fresh orgasms that went on and on... and on! I began to wonder how many times a girl could orgasm in a single session. This I was not about to find out because they were still going strong when I felt the pollen rising a second time. Again, the girls recognized it, but this time there was no hand. Instead, a tap on the shoulder made me aware of Mandy, who lay beside me, her legs wide apart.

It was a struggle. I'd been on my back so long. But with help, I edged into position, plunged my cock into Mandy's open cunt and began to fuck. She held my gaze as I drove her into the bed, harder, deeper, lost in my own desire, but also reading hers.

OhShit! OhShit! Agh! Ugh! Agh! Agh!

I pumped into her until every drop was expelled. I swear she came too, but I honestly was past caring. I fell onto her prone body, pressing her into the bed even as my rump continued to propel my cock in and out of her, until this, too, died on me.


It's What You Wanted, Isn't It?



Chapter 4

I recall of that night only trying to fall asleep amidst five delectable females, at least one of whom was not asleep. One after the other, they sucked and massaged my cock to life and fucked it as long as it, or they, retained life.

I swear it was all night. Well, maybe not because I do remember waking up, alone.

My eye fixed on a bedside clock. It read noon. I'd jackknifed into the sitting position before I realized that it was Saturday. I was not missing at work. 

I lumbered blearily out of the bedroom and found myself in a larger room which joined onto a kitchen. Oh the bliss of cool orange juice! On the table was a note, propped up against a ketchup bottle. 

'Back at 5,' it read. 'Be ready.'

Holy rhinoceros! Ready for what? Another night like that? I'd never survive!

My cock felt like it looked, a hundred years old. My balls ached and every muscle groaned. I grabbed some food they'd left on the table, wolfed it down, then headed back to bed.

I woke to find a redhead resting on my stomach. I was sure she was sucking on my cock but I could not feel this, only the ache in my balls. Someone was sucking on them too. 

Eventually, the other three girls materialized. 

"Howya doing?" Mandy said. "Having fun?"

"Sure!" I lied. "How about you guys?"

"Pretty good," she said. "By the way, this is Suzie."

She referred to one of the brunettes.

"Hi Suzie," I managed.

"And this is Linda."

"Hi Linda."

"And those two," Mandy said, referring to the redhead working my cock and the blonde chewing my ballbag to shreds, "are Janet and Maria."

"Hi Janet and Maria," I said. 

They did not pause to acknowledge.

As a matter of fact -- not bragging or anything, honest, just the way it was --- my cock did eventually come to life. It required all five of them, twice around, but they made it, and then went round again for good measure.

"I love sucking cock," Suzie said. "Let me."

"Don't waste him," Linda replied. "I want some doggie."

"Me too!"

"And me!"

So doggie it was, one after the other, and then again, until my knees gave in. Then it was side by side, one on one, with the remainder offering encouragement in the way of a nipple pressed here or there, or a wet cunt slid across an ankle or arm. Then we formed a circle and ate each other out, girl on girl, boy on girl, girl on boy. 

They seemed insatiable, and, amazing as it may seem -- it's astounding to me -- I managed to keep up (pun intended, sorry). I guess once a guy's come a few times, then with sufficient encouragement, he can keep it up even if the desire to come has abated. 

Not that I didn't, once or twice. But nothing like those girls. The more the came, the easier it seemed for them to come again. They came and came and still they came again. I'd never experienced anything like it.

I mean, you have to put this in perspective. My experience, obviously sadly limited, was that you were damn lucky to get a woman to come once. More often than not, they didn't and then wouldn't admit it. 

"Come one, let me bring you off."

"No! It's fine, darling. Really. It was wonderful!"

And I'll bet once I was asleep, she'd be off to the bathroom, frig herself off, then moan to her girlfriends next day what a useless lover she had.

But these five? Cheez! I wasn't counting, but I'll bet anything ten apiece. Minimum. 

The night proceeded much as the previous night had. Perhaps not quite so much action. But action nevertheless. I'd wake up to find teeth playing with my cock, chivvying it to erection. Then, as it really began to hurt, the soothing balm of a moist vagina. 

I swear there is nothing in heaven or on earth that can compare with the feeling of a tight, wet cunt sliding down over a ravaged dick.

I confess, in the end, it gave up the ghost. Dead. Forever, it seemed. The girls didn't seem to mind. They let me sleep.

We lunched together Sunday. They'd ordered pizza. Cheez, did that ever taste good, even if I was missing a decent beer to wash it down. Hey, a beer I can have at home. Ten stiff nipples around the table, now that is something that has to be seen to be believed. Of this, my eye was highly aware, even if the pollen was running a little light. Five pairs of tits, all on the small side, but no two quite alike, just as the five cunts I'd eaten of copiously were similar, but unique.

It sounds absurd, but I reckon with time I could have told you which vagina belonged to which girl merely by feeling it sliding down my cock. The female form is such a wonderful thing, don't you think. In principle, every cunt is .. well ... a cunt. But what variety! 

"Pretty good weekend, Ron. What d'you think?" Suzie (I think) said.

"Fucking fantastic," I replied, then, "Pardon my French!"

"Ooh! French! Now that you've mentioned it..."

"No! Hey! Gimme a break. I'm done. I admit it. Be lucky if I get it up for a week!"

"Oh! I don't know about that, Ron," Janet (I think) said, rather mysteriously, I thought.

"So how about next weekend, Ron?" Linda (I think) said. "You up for it?"

"Hell Yes!" I said, with a conviction I did not feel. 

"You guys are fantastic. How come you don't have boyfriends?"

The girls looked at each other and giggled.

"Come on," I said. "Why not?".

"Boyfriends are a drag," Linda (I think) said.

"Yeah," Maria (I think) chimed in. "Drag it in, drag it out a coupla times, and they're done. Then all they wanna do is watch football."

I have to say, I'd never seen things in this light before. Put it down to my inexperience, but it's a fact.

When I got home, all I wanted to do was to throw a couple of beers in my head and crash. Which I did. And, Yes, while the Raiders were playing the Jets, if you must know.

Chapter 5

Monday was a bit tough. I mean, when you're walking it's a bit hard to hide that your balls feel like they're the size of melons. I evolved a kind of shuffle and invented a groin strain. This raised a few eyebrows, but, hey, running on the beach can do that to you, doncha think?

During my weekend on cloud 9, certain questions had sort of disappeared. Now they emerged. 

Anyone could have told anyone that a guy called Ron was a regular at Joe's. But how would Mandy know that? She'd never been in Joe's before. At least, not when I was there, which was most of the time. I do notice women, you know, in case it it's not apparent, and I most certainly would have had an eye on Mandy if she'd been in Joe's place when I was there. Puzzling item number 1.

Even supposing Mandy did find out that a guy called Ron was a regular at Joe's, why would she slip onto the barstool next to his and ask him if he liked sex? Nothing against Joe's, you can say this about any bar in LA: that's the kind of behavior can get a girl in a heap of trouble. Nothing in Mandy's manner had suggested nervousness or insecurity. Puzzling item number 2.

Put them together and the result is rather obvious. Mandy knew that a guy called Ron was a regular at Joe's, had a rough idea what he looked like, and she also knew that he 'liked sex' but was safe. How could that be?

Call me an optimist, but I could think of only one reason. Which is why I practically lived at Joe's the entire week.

In retrospect, I needn't have bothered. It was obvious it would be Friday.

"Hallo!"

I half turned. Something inside me -- my heart maybe? -- did a big leap.

"Hi!"

"Mind if I sit next to you?"

Are you nuts!

"Er, No! Of course not."

"I don't think I introduced myself when we last met," the apparition said. "I'm Angela."

"Nice name," I think I muttered.

She ordered a margarita.

"Cointreau, please. Not Triple Sec. On the rocks, with salt. Thanks."

I wasn't sure Joe knew what Cointreau was, but he seemed to, so no problem.

"Here's to us," she said when her drink arrived.

"Er.. Yes! To us!" 

Glass clinked on glass, even if mine was less elaborate than hers.

Those eyes. I'd not forgotten. Perhaps just a hint of liner, a touch of mascara. She was a woman to die for.

"I hope you're free this weekend, Ron. Nothing planned."

"Er.. No! Nothing planned."

"Perhaps we could go up the coast. Santa Barbara, perhaps. Start off our arrangement in style," she continued.

"Sure. Er. Sure. Arrangement?"

"Yes! You did say that's what you were looking for, didn't you? Sex. No complications."

"Oh sure, that. Yes. Hell. Sure."

My head was full of questions, of course. What Mandy et. al. were all about, was very much to the fore. A test? Surely not? Women didn't do that! Did they?

But such thoughts left as quickly as they arrived. When a gorgeous woman is offering you a weekend of uncomplicated sex 'up the coast', one does tend to focus a bit on this. Other thoughts tend to take a back seat, don't you think? They did with me, anyway.

"I have my car outside," she said. "Whenever you're ready."

"Er.. Maybe I should pick up a few things?" I believe I said.

"Like what?"

"Well, shaving gear, you know. Stuff like that."

"Not necessary, Ron. I've booked us into the Red Lion. They'll take care of it. Just you. That's all you need."

She gave me that direct look. It melted my soul.

I gulped, I think.

Angela's car turned out to be a Mercedes Coupe. She had the top up. But as I slid in beside her I heard the whirr of the motor that eased the roof into place. It was dark as we hit the 101 and headed north. 

"Maybe you'd like to get comfortable, Ron," she said.

"Comfortable?" I was genuinely puzzled.

"Well it's up to you," she said, "but if you were to slide your hand up my skirt, I'm sure that would make me feel comfortable. And if you're good, very comfortable indeed."

"And I'd like nothing more than that we both feel comfortable, don't you think. A good start to the weekend."

OhShit!

I tried to pretend I wasn't struggling with the zipper. Edging down the Calvin Klein's was the easy bit.

Her hand was cool.

"Now that does feel nice. So smooth. And, Oh! Yes..."

No underwear, of course. Her thighs parted, just enough.

"Slowly now. I think there's a law against coming while driving."

I think the law is a bit more extensive than that, and that we'd already broken it. But what the hell! Would it stop you?

Silken thighs, a golden touch. My penis was already fully erect. 

She shifted her position slightly so I could edge a finger into the crevice. 

"Ooh Yes! Start at the base and ease upwards."

I did. 

She drew her nails along the underside of my penis, very slowly, from base to tip. 

OhMiGod!

The next stroke she began at the base of my balls.

"Leave the clit alone, Ron," she said, "for the present. You can go in if you like. One finger, then two."

She gasped slightly as my fingers slid one after the other into the opening of her vagina. Then out, around, back in, out, around.....

"Oh Yes! That's good. Do that."

I did.

Her slender fingers wrapped around my shaft. Nails dug in, now on the upperside. She began to massage gently. 

My own fingers began to penetrate more deeply, exploring the outer walls of her vagina, then opening her out and easing in.

"I love the feel of your penis," she said. "It's so smooth. Is this working for you?"

"OhYes!" I sighed, feigning nothing. 

"I don't want you to come yet, though. You will tell me, won't you?"

"Oh sure. Just ... er... keep it light."

"Like this?"

OhYes! Just like that!

So the journey progressed along the freeway, her slender fingers massaging my dick, mine massaging every crevice of her cunt and inching ever deeper into her vagina. Occasionally, she moaned in appreciation. I groaned from time to time, silently, and tried to relax, to suppress the urge in my loins.

I thought of the cars that passed by as we proceeded at a stately pace along 101, each fault in the asphalt bringing us closer to release. Would they notice? Probably not, but it was a much needed distraction to think that they may.

"You can go up now," she said. "Around my clit. Up to the hood. Press on that a bit."

As I obeyed, the grip of her fingers tightened. 

"Oh Yes!" she said, breathlessly. "Back down, in and out a few times, then up."

As I obeyed, I felt the sap rising.

"Easy," I panted.

Her fingers released their grip. Back to the nails, dug hard into the base of my cock, then all the way up, centimeter by centimeter.

My fingers pressed gently on her clit hood, then slid down, around the tip, back into a vagina that was pumping out fluid.

I could tell from her breathing that she was close. As close as I was?

How far yet to Santa Barbara?

"Slack off," she said, suddenly, panting. "Just in and out, real slow."

I complied.

Her fingertips and nails teased my throbbing cock. 

"You ok with this!" she said, a trifle unsteadily. 

"I'm fine," I stammered. "Just keep the touch light."

"Like this?"

OhYes! Just like that.

"And don't stop," she added. "You can go back to the clit now, occasionally. Just don't stop. Hold it there."

I did. Suddenly Angela's thighs parted. She drew in her breath sharply. Then her thighs closed tightly on my hand even as my fingers continued to work her clit. Her body began to shake......

"Oh dear!" she said, when it was over. "I'm afraid we just broke the law."

This she said with a tinkle of a laugh and she glanced across at me, a wicked look in her eye.

"I should demand satisfaction, shouldn't I," she said, grasping my cock hard and pumping it. "But look, here's the turn off. Oh well. There's always later."

Angela handed the keys of the Mercedes to the valet, as nonchalant as if we'd spent the journey in small talk. Me? I was desperately trying to hide the bulge in my pants as we entered the foyer. I'm not sure I was successful. My dick had been so stiff for so long it seemed to think this was its natural state.

Mind you, even if someone noticed, there was no reason for them to assume any more than excitement at being in the company of such a gorgeous creature, and the anticipation joys 'to come' (pardon). Eat your hearts out, she's mine!

Chapter 6

"Perfect timing for dinner," Angela said, returning from the reception desk. "The food here's not great. But edible."

I recall thinking 'To hell with dinner', but of course am far too much the gentleman to actually say such a thing. My dick had finally succumbed to the encumbrance of the Calvin's. Now my balls were hurting, big time. At least no-one could see that! Meekly, I followed Angela to the dining room.

Watching over my menu it was impossible to see in her a woman who'd just had her pussy massaged all the way up the freeway, just enjoyed what felt to me like a pretty decent orgasm. She was so calm, so natural. Like a wife, almost (and no disrespect intended to wives who still 'enjoy their husbands', as it were). She'd been to the ladies room, presumably to dry off her cunt, but I was pretty sure she had not put on panties. The thought of her naked cunt gracing the velvet of the seat near drove me mad. 

The waiter brought the carafe of house red we'd ordered, poured two half glasses with a flourish, then took our orders.

Angela smiled at me, innocence personified. She said,

"You're good at teasing."

"Thanks," I stammered. "You're not bad yourself."

"It's such a wonderful thing, sex, isn't it."

"Sure," I guess I said, sipping wine.

"But so many people don't get it, do they. They think it's all about getting there fast."

Er, well, I suppose that would have to be a 'Yes'. I didn't say it, though.

"We're you ever married?" she continued.

"No!" I replied. "A couple of relationships. Didn't last long."

"Not enough sex, too much bickering?"

"That would be a fair description," I answered. Then,

"How did you know?"

"Your line," she replied, airily. "Novel, at least one can say that."

"You mean.. er.. the 'Do you like sex?' thing."

"Yes, that. Tell me, how often does it work?"

"Not very often," I said ruefully. "Well, actually, not at all, until...."

"Yes! I can imagine."

"In fact, I was about to give up."

"I'm glad you didn't."

She was looking at me so directly, I had to return gaze. What eyes!

"Your penis feels nice."

"And your ... er..." 

She was sliding to and fro on the seat, not markedly, just enough. 

OhMiGod!

"You mean my cunt?" she said, as I hesitated. "Don't be afraid to say it. I know a lot of women don't like it, but I never did like the word 'pussy'. It sounds so, well, childish, rather. And vagina is just too clinical, like orgasm. Too technical. Cock, cunt, clit, come; they're much more erotic, don't you think? The four C's. Short, sharp and to the point."

"Er.." Gulp! "Yes! Well ... er ... I agree, actually. If it doesn't offend you...."

"Not at all."

"Er.. well, Yes! Your cunt felt very nice."

"And you got my clit just right, first time. Not too little, not too much. I don't usually come that easily, you know. Next time, you'll have to work a bit harder."

She gave me that look that melted my soul --- and stiffened my damn dick. 

You would never have thought from Angela's manner that we were having this conversation in an upmarket restaurant, with people all around? What were they thinking? That we were talking about whether nanny had persuaded the kids to go to bed?

"It's quite responsive, isn't it, my cunt. Gets wet fast, stays wet forever. Like now, for example."

Gulp! What was I supposed to do? Slip off my shoe and massage her under the table. Call me a wuzz! I just could not. What if someone noticed?

"It's very sensitive, too. All over, not just my clit. I love being massaged. You really did it well, for starters. I hope you enjoyed it."

"Er.. Yes! Absolutely!" I stammered. "Wonderful."

"Good! It gets better, and better, believe me. My cunt lips get really full --- and tasty, chewy even, if you're patient and get them to blossom."

I'd ordered halibut, but guess what I was tasting with every forkful? Angela ate deliberately, as a woman in such a restaurant would eat. But to me, every movement of her wide mouth as she teased shrimp, or asparagus into it, made my dick twitch.

"So many guys don't understand, you know, Ron," she said, after a brief silence. "They think sex is about shoving a dick in and out of a cunt."

"Uh-huh!"

"Of course, it's ridiculous. All the nerve centers are on the outside, the cunt lips, the inner walls, the skin just beneath the clit. And of course the clit itself, and around. Inside, you can't feel a damn thing. But they do it anyway," she said, with an air of disgust.

"Mind you," she continued, "I like a good hard fuck as much as the next girl, but only at the end. You know, after everything else. And it has to be full cock, so that groin presses groin into the bed, or whatever you're doing it on."

I tried desperately to think of something to say. And failed. Angela did not seem to mind. She glanced at me from time to time in a way that I'm sure appeared casual, to everyone but me.

"And fucking makes you tired, don't you think? You can swap it around, who's doing the work, but I've never met a guy could last very long. If I'm on-top and trying to drag it out, to keep the feeling alive, he starts thrusting up into me. Then he comes and his dick goes soft: Just when you're getting interested."

She sighed.

"Now if there's several, you know, girls or guys, it works better. Share the load, as it were."

I found my voice,

"You mean, like, five girls, one guy?"

She smiled then, a courgette stuck to an upturned fork.

"Or five guys, one girl," she said, after a brief, but, I felt, significant pause.

"But that would depend on the guys, of course" she continued, thoughtfully. "I do like a nice cock, though, playing with it, teasing it, and having a guy caress my cunt with his fingertips, or his lips and his tongue. I mean, you can do that for hours and hours, days even. So delightful, don't you think, Ron."




It's What You Wanted, Isn't It?



Her direct gaze now demanded a response. What could I say? Days!?

"Oh sure," I heard emerge from between my lips, "I agree entirely."

"You know this, Ron, of course, but you'd be amazed how few guys get it, even the ones who are not just 'prodders', if you understand my meaning. They relate to their own response instead of yours. You can tease a guy for an hour, give him a fifteen minute break, then start teasing again and he picks up more or less where he left off."

"They don't realize that it doesn't work this way for girls," she continued, blithely ignoring the waiter as he poured fresh wine on his past our table. I had the feeling this was occurring more and more often. Well, hell, Angela was a babe any guy'd want to be ogling. He didn't have to be eavesdropping. (Yeah, right!)

"Once you stop, a girl comes right down. Real fast. You have to start from the beginning again."

"Uh-huh," I heard myself say, knowingly.

"And coming, you know," she continued. "A guy comes, he's disinterested until the hormones build up again. Then, when you've come right down, he expects you to be ready when he is."

"Well, you know this, Ron, but you'd be amazed how many guys don't. Grant you not all girls are alike, but most of us can come time and time again, or could, if the guy were only doing it right. He mustn't give us time to go down. Just keep on going, and going. I mean, even if his dick is limp, he still has a tongue, lips, teeth, fingers."

Was it my imagination, or were the points that had begun to emerge through the material of her dress nipples? OhMiGod! And she'd crossed her legs and turned them sideways on. 

Holy cow! How can a guy concentrate on eating daintily?

"True, it often takes a long while to get us off, but the second is easier than the first, the third even easier and it just gets better and better. And a hard fuck at the end, just as you're passing out from the sheer exhaustion of continuous coming. Heaven!"

We'd finished the main course and she was now looking at me full face. I tried to smile seductively, but I'm sure it came across as awkward.

At that point, the opening theme of Mozart's G-Minor Symphony -- KV 40, if I recall correctly --- made itself apparent. Angela extracted the instrument from her purse, stared at it, then made an impatient gesture.

"Sorry, Ron," she said, apologetically, rising from her chair. "Have to take this."

Five minutes later she was back. She did not sit. Her lithe, luscious body close to mine, a whiff of delicate perfume, those long legs, and Yes! they were nipples: I barely heard what she said.

"Ron, I'm really sorry about this. But, well, when business calls. I'm sure you know what I mean."

I gaped at her, not comprehending. What? She was leaving? 

"Here's the room key. I'll be back as soon as I can make it."

"Wha... What?... er... How long...?"

"Soon as I can, sweetie," she said, bending and planting a chaste kiss on my cheek. "Keep the bed warm."

I watched her slender figure as it weaved between the tables. 

Chapter 7

I lay on the bed, buck naked, legs wide apart, stroking it. Not seriously, just enough to keep it rigid. I do this a lot. What's a guy supposed to do, when so few women have no interest in sex without complications? Sometimes a porno runs in the background. Not the usual kind, mind you. Women with grossly enhanced tits and platform shoes who moan and groan as though they're aroused, which they aren't. You can tell. I don't understand why guys get turned on when its so obvious what they're seeing is an act, actors, going through the motions. Even the guys. You'd think at least they'd show signs of enjoyment. But they don't. Too busy trying to stay stiff, or stuffed full of Viagra and worried about managing the 'money shot'. Mind you, I suppose it's not so easy with a cameraman cavorting about, and someone giving hand signals in the background, when you're supposed to raise a leg, or change positions.

I need to believe they're both enjoying it, especially the girl. It has to feel 'real', even though I'm prepared to believe that sometimes it isn't, it just looks that way. It's hard to find, porn that doesn't insult the intelligence. But there's stuff out there if you know where to look. 

Sometimes, though, I don't need a porno at all. My mind's eye is enough. Like on that evening, lying on the bed waiting for Angela, an image of her riveted in my brain, her soft voice talking about doing it for days. Days! That may seem a bit hard to swallow, but after all, I'd absolved a weekend of action with Mandy et. al. and what Angela was talking about sounded a lot less strenuous than what that quintet had put me through. 

You'd think after the action I'd already seen that night I'd just want to get my rocks off and I'll be honest enough to confess this was my first thought. Get off, relax a bit and work it back up. But that would spoil things. I knew from experience that I can keep myself 'interested' for hours, and that after a while the urge to come subsides, leaving your dick glowing from base to tip. And that's without the image emblazoned on my brain, of Angela entering the room. She'd eye my stiff dick and tease me as she disrobed slowly. Then she'd slide her wet cunt along my leg, tease my cock with her juices, before rising and easing it into her. I played out the scene in my minds eye, semen spurting out of me and into Angela's delectable cunt, in pints. With any luck, I'd be so aroused it would stay stiff even as the come drooled out of Angela's cunt and coated my balls......

I must have had my eyes closed. My ears too, for that matter. I heard not the opening of the door.

"Ooh la la!"

I heard that!

My eyes opened, and I jerked suddenly into a half sitting position.

"Where's Angela?" I stammered. "Who are you?"

The girls looked at each other as though puzzled. They giggled. Two robes fell to the floor. My eyes near popped out of my head, switching uncontrollably from one to the other.

"Je m'apelle Chantal," one of these apparitions said.

"Et Claudette," said the other, pointing an elegant finger at herself.

I'd been surprised the previous week when the girl who opened when Mandy took me home was naked. But those were girls. Chantal and Claudette were equally naked, but they were not girls, they were women.

One was blonde and one brunette, but I confess this I realized only later. My eye was too busy roving --- over four perfectly formed breasts, firm, but which hung just enough to promise succulence, two wasp waists, two flat stomachs each adorned at the navel with a modest ornament, four slender thighs, and two pronounced mounds of Venus, sleek and shining in the dim light. 

"Il est prêt," one said, pointing at my dick.

"Tres joli," said the other. (I never did figure whether the blonde or the brunette was Chantal, but who cared.)

I was still in the half-sitting position, shell-shocked, when one of these angels placed a hand on my chest and pushed me gently back onto the bed.

An instant later, my eyes were feasting on the most perfectly formed cunt they had ever seen, which lowered itself slowly onto my mouth. As my tongue graced the underside of full and ripe cunt lips, I felt a wetness in the big toe of my right foot. Dimly, squinting, I saw that the other angel had placed one knee on the bed and her cunt over my foot. She rocked gently back and forth using my toes to spread her cunt lips, pressing down lightly so my big toe entered her, and sighing.

Holy Moses! She was fucking my foot!

Have you any idea how many protuberances there are on a single male body? Fingers, feet, elbows, knees, I swear, those angels explored every one.

Occasionally, one or the other would ease my cock into her cunt, but then remain almost still, contracting and expanding the muscles of her cunt walls around my throbbing dick. After a while she'd begin to rock back and forth, until a gentle sigh of satisfaction announced, presumably, the occurrence of orgasm. She'd be still for a while, hovering over me, then slowly withdraw, leaving behind a naked cock suddenly cool as the juice from her cunt evaporated.

Scarcely a word was spoken, which is probably no bad thing given the level of French they let you get away with at high school. The angels had their way with me, in their way, and it was good. 

OhmiGod, was it ever. 

I came every hour, or two or three, never without an appreciative sigh, or a

"Tres bon!"

from one or other of the angels, and when this occurred whichever cunt enveloped my cock just kept on working, slowly, effortlessly, until my dick grew small.

Not that this delayed the action. There were my feet, my knees, cunts slid up and down shins, thighs, arms, impaled themselves on fingers, one, two or three --- they'd guide me gently with their own fingers.

They'd take a break and lie beside me, one on each side, guiding my fingers as each hand explored a cunt, brushed across a clit, pressed on a clit hood, while their fingers stroked my cock and balls, always gentle, never hurried.

When I was hard, one of my angels would from time to time lie on her back and encourage me to engage in a slow fuck, bodies pressed together, while the other stroked my back, buttocks, thighs with gentle fingers, or soft breast, firm nipples, or wet cunt --- whatever took her fancy.

I'm sure you've heard this claimed before, but that night it was the truth and nothing but the truth. Time ceased to have meaning. 

I say 'that night' because that's when it began. It was Friday. Only when it ended, when my angels re-wrapped themselves in their robes and, with smiles and blown kisses --- 'Merci' 'Merci beaucoup!' --- left the room as unobtrusively as they had entered, did I become aware that it was now Sunday.

And this not immediately. I lay for a long time staring at the ceiling, too dazed to think. I found out it was Sunday when I got around to working the remote. The Chargers were in Kansas.

I must have fallen asleep again in spite of the game. I awoke to the persistent ringing of the phone.

"Ron?"

"Angela!?"

"Ron, I'm so sorry. I just couldn't get back. Business called. Awful of me, I know. Can you forgive me?"

Forgive her? For what? My angels? The most memorable 30 hours of my life, and not excluding wild sex with five lithe nymphs?

"Erm?"

I didn't know what to say.

"Look, Ron. I'm in SF right now. I'm stuck, I'm afraid. Can you get yourself back home? Everything's taken care of at the hotel. And the car. Just call Enterprise and tell them who you are. They'll pick you up at the hotel."

"Erm. About.. the...?"

"What? Ron, the signal's breaking up. Need to be quick anyway. I'll make it .... to you ...."

"But ...."

Of course, I was about to ask about Chantal and Claudette, but the phone went dead. 

Chapter 8

I wondered all week. First Friday, five young, nubile nymphomaniacs --- well, if they weren't I wouldn't care to meet up with a real one! Second Friday, hand-jobs in the car with Angela, then her mysterious disappearance and re-incarnation in the form of two French goddesses and sex of a sophistication I'd never dreamed could exist. I still recall vividly waking up that Sunday and realizing that my entire body was encrusted with juices from their delectable cunts mixed in with a few pints of my own semen. I'd relived how it got that way under the shower, and the image of those two peerless torsos and what they did to me remained throughout the week. 

And mixed in with the memory was bewilderment. What the hell was going on? And what on earth awaited me on the third Friday? I'd enjoyed two weekends of sex either one of which many a guy would kill for. Why was I not awaiting eagerly to find out what was in store for me next Friday? Uncomplicated sex I'd said I wanted, and had enjoyed, in no trumps. Yet I was as jumpy as an impala crossing a bed of hot coals. 

I suppose it was a feeling of impotence. Not the common or garden variety. I mean, a guy who couldn't get it up for Mandy et.al. or Chantal and Claudette really would have a beeg problem! I guess it was a control issue. I had none. Someone, presumably Angela, did. For a while I even thought of skipping Joe's on Friday. That I did not I put down to the thought that this would be rank cowardice. I'd said I wanted sex, and I was getting it in ways I'd never dreamed could be possible for any guy, let alone myself. Angela was playing some kind of weird game with me, and this I did not like. On the other hand, if I copped out I would never find out what this was.

So a nervous Ron took up his usual place at Joe's, tried to keep an adjacent bar-stool free, and waited nervously. Who would show up this time?

I had my nose in a pint of Anchor Steam when a deepish voice behind me said,

"You Ron?"

I wheeled around and found myself confronted by a woman of some maturity. No nymphet this one. 

"Er... Yes," I stammered. 

"OK. Let's go," said the woman, turning and heading for the door. I watched her somewhat buxom figure ease gracefully enough through the crowd, and hesitated. Not your type, Ron, my brain said. But again, the thought of appearing cowardly, of not meeting expectations, got me off my stool and out into the street. The cab door was open. What could I do but climb in.

"I'm Liz," the woman said, holding out a heavily ringed hand. 

"Pleased to meet you," I managed, taking it lightly.

"Are you as good as your reputation?" Liz continued. 

"Er.... I guess that would depend ... er .... On what my reputation is," I replied.

She gave me a knowing look, which lit up her features. She was not exactly pretty, but also not ugly. Somewhere in between. Trying not to be obvious, I glanced across, registering large breasts and a figure that was not so much heavy as voluptuous. She wore leather pants and a plain blouse, cut low. I tried to picture her naked and decided this might not be too bad. 

"Satisfied?" she said, with a trace of sarcasm. Obviously my attempt to be surreptitious had not been successful.

"Sure," I responded, trying to be casual.

"Ok," Liz continued. "So here's the deal. You look like a cute guy. Ready for anything, right?"

"I guess," I stammered.

"Ever run into a lesbian?"

I did a double take at that one.

"Er....." What could I say?

"Cos you're looking one up and down right now. And you don't much like what you see, right?"

My tongue refused utterance.

"Well that's ok, 'cos you don't do anything for me either. Butch dyke, that's me. Know what that means?"

"Erm...."

"Doesn't matter," Liz continued. "Either you do or you don't. Thing is, my partner --- she's the feminine one --- is 'bi'. Know what that means, perhaps?"

"Er ... She likes men and women?"

"Yep! And from time to time I allow her to indulge. You're the indulgence."

"I see," I muttered. 

Holy Moses! What the hell was I into here?

"You like to fuck, I've been told."

"Er .... By whom?" I ventured, but she ignored me.

"And Jeanette likes to be fucked. Real good and hard."

"Er .... Ok!"

"And long. I'm told you got stamina, and you'll need it. Cos' Jeanette's one horny little beast. And you needn't worry about me being jealous, cos I'll get my kicks too, watching her get her brains fucked out."

O-kay! It was silent.

"And no messing around with fancy stuff. Just fucking and sucking when you need your dick stiffening. Got that?"

"I guess."

"No guess. You gotta remember who's calling the shots. It ain't Jeanette, and it sure as hell ain't you. She wants a guy, she gets one, but I make the rules. That's the deal. You get it, or you don't?"

"I get it," I said as firmly as I could manage.

"You'd better. Cos' if you don't, now's the time to chicken out."

'Chicken out?' I thought. 'What's to chicken out from?' Hell, if I could handle an entire weekend with Mandy et. al. 'fucking the brains' out of half a lesbian couple would be a piece of cake.

I registered a chuckle from Liz. Perhaps she'd read my thoughts.

The cab drew up outside an up-market apartment complex in Marina del Rey. I followed Liz along a walkway, into the building and up in the elevator to the top floor, where we entered a corner apartment.

"Kay. Strip off and get your dick stiff. Need any help?"

"Er.... No, I guess...."

"Yes, or No! Jeanette's in there." Liz pointed. "You walk in with your dick stiff as a pole. Kay. She likes to get a good look at the equipment. You need a hand job to get it up, now's the time to ask."

"Er.. No!" I stammered. "I can manage."

"Kay."

I tried to get a peek through the door, but Liz was in and out too fast. I was alone in the hallway. Hesitatingly, wondering what I had gotten myself into, I stripped off and began work on my dick. It took a while. Liz had dampened down the pollen rather effectively. I tried to re-capture the image of the delectable Chantal and Claudette, of Mandy and friends, of Angela, but nothing seemed to work. Perhaps it was the thought of a hand job from the fearsome Liz that persuaded a reluctant member to gain gradually the state of grace.

Of course I wondered about Jeanette. What would she be like? The 'feminine one' sounded encouraging. Think positive, I repeated to myself.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the door and entered the room.

Chapter 9

It was dim in there and my eyes took a while to adjust, only gradually registering the slender figure of a young girl lying on a bed. Then they noticed that she was not exactly lying on the bed, she was spread out on it in the form of a star, her wrists and ankles fastened to the bed posts by restraints. As I approached, my eyes adjusted further, initially fastening on the fulcrum between her legs, which were spread wide, revealing cunt lips that seemed out of proportion to the rest of her. Warning bells sounded. I backed away.

"Look, Liz," I said. "I don't know about this. I don't do rape stuff. And she looks awfully young."

A snort from the corner, where Liz had parked herself in an armchair. She rose and approached and I recall thinking that my guess had been spot on. Naked she was much more attractive than clothed.

"Of course she's young. I like 'em young. But she's legal, if that's what you're worried about. And who the hell said anything about rape. She wants her brains fucked out. Look at her eyes, fixed on your dick, the horny vixen."

Even as Liz spoke, I felt the damn thing begin to droop.

Another snort. Liz was by my side. A be-ringed hand engulfed my dick and began to pump.

"I'd like to hear her say it, Liz."

As I spoke I realized Jeanette could not say anything because something was stuffed her mouth.

"Shit. I thought you're supposed to be a stud."

"Well you thought wrong," I said. "At least if you think I'd force myself on any woman, especially a young girl."

Uttering a curse of exasperation, Liz knelt on the bed and removed a pair of panties from Jeanette's mouth. 

"Tell him, dear."

"D'you think he's up for it?" Jeanette said, doubtfully, her eye on my drooping penis.

"He's recommended, dear," Liz said, looking up at me. "Maybe the situation. Don't worry. I'll get him ready."

She resumed her less than gentle ministrations.

"Why are you restrained?" I asked Jeanette.

"Because I like to start this way."

"When she comes," Liz explained, "her limbs go all over the place. And she's loud. That's the reason for these. Later on, when she's come a few times, like maybe ten or fifteen, she gets calmer."

Ten or fifteen!

"Look at her. I think she's sexy as hell. Don't you?"

I had to admit Liz had a point. Jeanette's body was slender and supple, her breasts on the small side, but with pronounced nipples standing out against pure white skin, stiff as my dick wasn't. As doubts receded, the pollen began to rise and when she said, eyeing me coquettishly,




It's What You Wanted, Isn't It?



"You're cute. I bet you fuck real good,"

desire rose and with it my dick.

"She's got the juciest cunt, Ron. Real tight too. I like it that way. I make sure it stays that way."

"There now," she continued, as my dick attained full erection.

"Let's go," Jeanette said. "Stuff your knickers back in and let him loose."

"Remember, Ron," Liz said, as she complied. "She likes it hard right from the git go. She's tight, but wet as all hell. So just plunge right in and ram her into the bed. And don't stop until I give the word."

"Is it all right to ... er ... come inside her?"

"Of course. She loves it when semen shoots up into her. Just don't go limp on her. Keep on fucking. And don't think you have to take your weight on your hands. Lie on her, crush her into the bed. She looks fragile, but she isn't. You'll find out."

Jeanette's cunt with its oversized petals, glistening in the half-light, gleamed up at me. Kneeling on the bed, I guided my penis into the neck of her vagina and was about to slide it gently in when a mighty whack on the butt drove it in, right to the hilt. Jeanette's body arched as though she was in pain, but her eyes said 'Yes! Oh Yes!' I swear she came instantly. I sensed I was in for a long night.

When I fuck a woman missionary I try to take the weight on my arms. Don't know why. Perhaps a mistaken idea that this is what a woman expects from a gentleman. Anyway, this is how I began with Jeanette. You can still get good contact with her clit if you bend over enough and carry the stroke through until your entire dick is engulfed in cunt. Well, obviously Jeanette thought so. Her groin rose to meet mine with every stroke. And Liz had not exaggerated. When she came, her limbs twitched every which way, and from the look at the way her head jolted from side to side, the only obstacle to her screaming the place down was the pair of knickers stuffed between her teeth.

I was in a position to observe this because she came rather frequently. The first sign was a sort of humming of her vaginal walls which evolved rapidly into contractions around my dick as it hammered into her. Her body began to shake, and then erupt.

But of post-orgasmic collapse there was no sign. No longer had I fucked her through an orgasm than her groin was urging me on to the next. I say as I shouldn't that I'm in pretty good shape. I can keep going this way for quite a while, long enough to get Jeanette off four times. Far from quenching her appetite, though, this merely whetted it. And my arms were beginning to tire.

"Lie on her! Crush her into the bed," came from the corner, where I deduced Liz was working on herself. "Just don't stop."

What could a gentleman do but comply? To be honest, I confess a modicum of self-interest. I'd been trying to delay it, but could you? It's mechanical, isn't it. After a while, a dick plunged into and out of a tight cunt is going to spurt, as mine did. Oh boy, a beauty! Especially since it coincided with Jeanette's fifth. The contractions of her cunt walls squeezed every last drop out of me and she kept on clenching when it was over, as though defying my cock to wither.

It usually did after an orgasm like that, but this time it did not. I've no explanation. Surely, the sight of this slip of a girl enjoying her orgasms so demonstratively was arousing. And now I was lying on her, her nipples pricking into my chest, the energy in her seemingly frail frame transmitted itself to me. 

And if this were not enough, the further encouragement of fingernails digging into my back, clawing at it, was. I had not observed Liz free Jeanette from her hand restraints, but this she must have done. She'd also pulled the knickers out of Jeanette's mouth, which, an inch from my ear urged me on, panting, groaning, mouthing 'Harder, harder, faster. OhYes. OhYes. Fuck!!'

Further utterances are not reproducible in print, so I won't try. 

But when the aftershocks of each orgasm subsided, it was back to panting, groaning, 'Harder. Fuck! Fuck!! Faster. OhShit!' On and on and on, one orgasm following the other. I lost count. I suppose I was preoccupied trying to suppress my own miserable No. 2, but there was no way Jeanette would allow it. MiGod, those claws! They dug in and dragged down my back, my sides, and when her legs came up and began to drum on my butt --- Liz must have released the ankle restraints --- I was done for. My head went up and half a pint spewed up and shot deep inside Jeanette's dripping vagina, which immediately resumed its contractions, clenching my dick in her, refusing to let it out.

I confess, when she failed, my dick went limp and slid out of her, I felt shame. Ridiculous, I know! A guy can't keep it up forever, which is what it seemed like I had managed. I rolled onto the bed and lay beside Jeanette, panting.

The mattress recoiled as Liz's ample figure joined the pair of us. I groaned inwardly and braced myself, expecting a sturdy hand to grasp my dick. It would not work, I knew. Out of play, it was, if not for the count! But this ignominy was spared me. A deep voice said,

"Straddle her head and stick your balls in her mouth. I think there's five or six more there."

If you've never had you balls used as a gag while a nympho 'bi' gets finger fucked from one orgasm to the next, you don't know what you're missing out on.

Yes! It hurts like hell! Between pants, Jeanette sucked on my balls mercilessly. Well, I assume there was no malice intended. It was just the natural reaction as she fought for air. I was facing away, but the effect Liz's fingers were having on Jeanette was clearly not unpalatable to her. Her head twisted from side to side, dragging my ball bag with it. Another orgasm! Onto another, yet another. They arrived so fast they merged the one into the next. 

Gradually, the thrashing of Jeanette's body began to weaken, the nails dug less deeply into the flesh of my butt. None too soon. On fire, my balls felt like they'd been sucked out of their sac.

"What d'you think?" came Liz's voice as I rolled onto my back. "Probably all she can take, for now."

For now!? I looked across at Jeanette's pure white body splayed out on the bed. Not a limb moved, just a ribcage that stuck out through her skin as she slowly regained her breath.

"It'll take her a while to recover," Liz said nonchalantly. "What would you say to a pizza and some beer?"

Holy Moses! 

"er... Yes! And that's a firm Yes!"

"Kay. There's beer in the icebox. What toppings d'you like?" she continued, reaching for the phone.

Liz had a healthy appetite, that I can say for sure. 

"You did ok," she said as she munched on a Pizza Hawai. 

"Only ok?" I replied. "What would you consider good?"

"Well good then, if it makes you feel better. Don't worry, you'll have a chance to prove yourself."

Nodding in the direction of the prone figure on the bed, she said,

"She'll be up for the next round in a while."

I looked across at Jeanette. She seemed to be asleep. Except for a slight movement of her ribcage you could have thought she was dead. Liz caught my glance and read my mind. She chuckled.

"Don't let that fool you. She's just recuperating."

I wanted to question Liz, of course. Ask her what the hell was going on. But no time seemed right. I'd steeled myself to ask anyway when the body on the bed stirred itself.

"Ooh! Pizza."

Jeanette ate a third of Liz's and a third of mine, which was more pizza that seemed would fit into so frail a frame.

"How would you rate him," Liz said mischievously, eyeing me. "Our stud for the weekend."

"Pretty good, I'd say," Jeanette replied. "Better than the last one. So far."

So far?

Round two, it seemed, required the affixing of my limbs to the bed posts. I made a half-hearted protest, but acquiesced readily enough. Well, what would you do after your eyes feasted on this now thoroughly revived, nubile chick tweaking her nipples and aching to get on your cock? 

Yeah! I thought so!

She had my dick stiff in ten seconds flat, and mounted me two seconds later. That was the only part of round two that could be measured in seconds, unless this be a rather large number. 

And I have to say that there are lots worse things can happen to a guy than to be tied to a bed and have a body like Jeanette's impaled on his cock. She rode me every which way. Up and down, to and fro, sometimes sitting upright with her arms at her sides, then leaning forward resting on her arms, then lying on me, her rump rising and falling, ever faster, driving my cock in and out of her.

Where the energy was stored in that frail frame I could not imagine. Orgasm followed withering orgasm, but did they stop her, or even slow her down? 

I could hold back no longer. The back of my head dug into the bed, a groan emerged from my lips. A third load spewed up into that tight cunt, which promptly tightened further. Cunt walls clenched on my dick. Jeanette raised her body to the upright position and rose and fell on my cock like a dervish.

Goddamit it if she didn't manage it again!

If that sounds like a complaint, it isn't. The sight of her slender body may in any event have been of itself enough.

And there was always that other distraction, the one in the corner, sitting in an arm chair, one leg over each arm, frigging herself, four fingers, in, out, in, out, then up to massage a huge bright pink clit, revealing a chasm that waited. Liz was not going short in the orgasm department, that's for sure.

I wasn't counting, but I swear Jeanette came five times before I felt the sap beginning to rise again. Something --- possibly my grunts --- betrayed me. Jeanette slowed, rocked gently back and forth, fully impaled, looking into my eyes, which pleaded with her 'Bring me off!'

It became apparent that Jeanette had no such intention. She waited, and waited, and waited, and seemed to sense when the urgency to erupt had waned. No doubt, then, who was in control.

Her limbs announced another orgasm or two, the sap began to rise again. And again it was denied release. Now, though --- the first sign of weariness, perhaps? --- Jeanette changed position. She allowed her body to fall backwards, supported by her hands, my cock held firmly inside her until it was horizontal. She fell back, lying between my thighs, her legs astride my hips, her rump raised so I could see her gleaming mound of Venus, and slid her cunt ever so slowly back and forth. 

OhMiGod! 

I don't know whether you've been there, but if you have you'll know and if you haven't, you'll have to believe that a cock in this position can last a very long time before erupting. Well, mine did, at least. It must --- just must --- have been hours. Jeanette came from time to time, but quietly now, a mere exhalation of breath, a twitching in her cunt. And as for me, I've never before or since appreciated more the ecstasy of pre-orgasmic bliss.

Eventually, Jeanette's thigh muscles, holding her high enough to slide her cunt over my cock right to the hilt began to tire. I presume it must have been so because Liz appeared, suddenly, freed me from the restraints. Jeanette flopped onto her back, her thighs wide apart, her cunt, massively swollen, gleamed out at me.

"Now do her, real good!" I heard Liz say.

You're not going to believe this, but I'm telling it like it is. I plunged my aching cock into that all too willing cunt, and began to fuck like a demon. She came immediately, this time not quietly. She came again, and again. The sap had risen, and as my cock spewed a fresh load into her, she came yet again. Her hands clawed again at my back, her heels beat my butt, and her cunt walls tightened round my cock. 

Goddamit if she hadn't done it again. Freed from restraint, there was no holding me. I lay on that frail body and pumped and pumped and pumped into her, full cock, full force. And I didn't stop even when the only response to her orgasms was a contraction of her cunt walls. They vibrated even as her body lay still beneath me. 

Now it was my turn, I slowed, sliding my cock in and out of that liquid cunt, whose walls hummed, quivered, contracted, hummed, quivered, contracted in continuous orgasm.

I'd lost all sense of time, of course, so how long it was before my cock decided enough was enough I could not say. Teasing her was teasing me, and there was only so much of this my cock would stand. It took over, grinding a groin that appeared still all too willing into the bed, pulling out almost to the tip, plunging back down, again, again, again .....

A fifth load shot into her and still my cock would not stop. It did eventually, because it slid out. It was done, spent, finished.

I rolled off that slender frame and lay on my back panting wildly.

An eruption of breath announced Liz's latest orgasm. It sounded like a rip-snorter, but reached my ears through a fog. As I drifted into some kind of comatose state that I'll call sleep, for want of a better word, I heard Liz's voice dimly.

"Not bad!" it said. 

'Holy Moses! The mother of all fucks, not bad?' my brain told me before it, too shut down.

When I awoke, a hand stretched out automatically, searching for Jeanette. In the end, I'd lost all reason, but in retrospect I had to wonder, how she could take so much. I honestly was afraid I'd fucked her to death. When my hand landed on the bedspread, this impression was reinforced. I struggled to the sitting position. I was alone in the bedroom. No Jeanette, no Liz.

My eye cast wildly around the room and fastened on the door to, I presumed, a bathroom. I staggered across. It was a bathroom. All thoughts other than the ache that coursed through every part of my being vanished. I lay under the shower for ever, wondering. Surely my memory had failed. It could not have been as I remembered. No woman alive could fuck a man like that, let alone half a lesbian couple.

I toweled myself dry, wrapped the towel around my midriff and explored the apartment. Of Jeannette and Liz there was no sign. Eventually I spotted a note propped up on a table in the hallway. It was brief and to the point.

'Out for dinner. Back around 10 for round 3. Liz.'

Round three? I looked at the clock. It read 9 -- pm, I presumed. It was Saturday night. Round three? After that!?

I inquired. No! was the rather definitive answer. I dressed hastily, slunk furtively out of the apartment and hurried off into the night, wincing.

Amazing isn't it. I'd manage two nights with Mandy et. al., two with Claudette and Chantal. But when it came to appetite, that vixen Jeanette, appearances to the contrary, had them beat hollow. All on her own. I'd found my limit, and met my match. 

Chapter 10

I didn't sleep much that night. But I did on Sunday morning, while watching the Titans at Indianapolis. Of course, I felt awful. I suppose everyone does when they encounter failure. My dick, though, did not seem to share my shame. That's because it was stone dead. The only reason I knew it was still attached to me was because I looked. Everywhere else ached. My dick didn't. 

Since I had not stuck around I would never know what 'Round 3' entailed, but this troubled me not. Any activity of the sexual variety had as much interest for me as women's ping pong, which the channel I had switched to by accident now showed. Five and twenty naked nymphs, lying in rows, with thighs parted, displaying five and twenty luscious cunts would not so much have raised a single grain of pollen.

And to add to it all was the ignominy that my hasty flight from Marina del Rey had ruined my plan to elicit from Liz some information as to what was going on. I was so sure I'd have got something out of her.

The days passed by. Surely my libido would return. It did not. The girls in the office were their usual flirtatious selves. They'd hang around on some pretext, leaning over so I could ogle their tits. They'd sit on my desk, one leg swinging, letting their skirts ride up.....

Well, all right. They didn't, but this did not stop me imagining that they would. There were plenty I fancied, and who found me attractive. But I'd no intention of going through the relationship mill yet again. 'Sex for sex, no complications' had long since come out early in any initial chat session, and it was always deadly. That was some time ago. Now the girls in the office passed by my cubicle with their eyes averted, perhaps even a gesture that if I'd been looking might have been interpreted as rude.

Friday evening began to loom large in my mind. I'd avoided Joe's all week. Was I going to skip Friday, too? I asked. A solid Yes! But in the end, curiosity won out. Who would show? Anyone? I went anyway.

Feeling sorry for myself, I sat the bar and tried to restrict my consumption of beer --- just in case. No-one showed. The crowd thinned. Unsure whether I was relieved or disappointed, I began to think seriously about getting gutted. I don't do this often, only when I'm feeling really low. It doesn't stop me feeling low, but in the morning I put this down to the depressive effect of alcohol. What caused the binge disappears. I suppose that's what is meant by the expression 'drown your sorrows'. It works, it really does.

But before I got going on Plan A, she materialized. Suddenly, from behind.

"Hi Ron?" she said. 

She eased herself onto the barstool next to mine and placed her shoulder bag on the bar. 

"Margarita," she said as Joe appeared. "On the rocks, with salt, Cointreau, no Triple Sec. Kay?"

Then to me,

"Sorry I'm late, Ron."

"Business, I'm sure," I probably said, with a tinge of bitterness.

"No, actually," she replied. "I've just had my brains fucked out."

When I looked, there was a twinkle in her eye. MiGod she was one gorgeous woman.

"I thought we might, you know. Well there's this place in San Diego...."

"I'm not leaving this bar with you, Angela, until you tell me what the hell is going on."

"Ron! That's hardly a way to respond to woman who's just offered you a weekend of sex in San Diego."

"With whom, precisely?"

"With me, Ron. Who else?"

"I thought, maybe five nubile sirens, or perhaps two French goddesses, possibly half a lesbian pair who looks like a breeze would blow her down the street but fucks like a herd of horny heifers, in heat!"

"Mmmm!"

Joe brought her drink. She sipped it.

"Pretty good. Joe mixes a mean margarita."

I turned to her, then.

"Look," I said. "I'm not complaining. How could I? Three weekends of insanely satisfying sex? I just want to know what's going on."

Angela didn't answer immediately. She seemed to be communing with herself.

I sipped my beer impassively, noting as I did, that consumption of a moderate amount of alcohol had not prevented certain body parts from showing signs of life.

"OK, Ron. Let's do a deal. If you agree to come with me to San Diego, I'll

tell you what you want to know."

I looked at her suspiciously.

"You mean, with you. San Diego with you. No-one else. Just you and me."

"Yes! Just you and me."

"Like Santa Barbara, perhaps?"

"No! Just you and me. I've cleared the weekend. It wasn't easy. That's why I'm late."

"Getting your brains fucked out?"

"Maybe."

I looked at her then. Her face was blank. 

I said nothing.

"Look, Ron," she said, after a while. "I don't want to offend you, but since you're obviously suspicious --- well maybe you have cause --- it shouldn't surprise you that I fuck whoever, whenever and wherever I want. And in case that's not enough, one guy doesn't cut it for me."

That threw me. It really did! I still didn't say anything --- because I couldn't.

I was too flabbergasted.

"So the deal I'm offering you is pretty rare, for me. It's real. I'm being straight with you, but it's a one-off. You say No! Fine. You'll never be troubled by me again."

My brain attempted to encourage my tongue to utterance, but failed. I must have looked like a flounder taking its last breath on the dock.




It's What You Wanted, Isn't It?



"It's pretty simple, Ron. Remember when we first met, at that speed-dating session? You said something then that was more important than you might have thought at the time. Can you remember what it was?"

I guess the look on my face betrayed me. I had no idea what it could have been except 'Do you like sex?', which it presumably wasn't.

"You said you'd be fine with group sex, but not with other guys. Remember?"

I did. I suppose I must have nodded, because she continued,

"I'm the other way round, Ron. I like group sex, but not with other girls. Does that make things clear to you?"

My brain connected finally with my tongue.

"You mean.... Two guys, and you?"

"Rarely two, Ron. For example, while you were entertaining two delectable ladies in Santa Barbara, I was down the corridor accommodating five guys."

"You gotta be joking," I stammered.

"Not at all. What's strange about this? You could have been one of them, but you said you did not want to be."

I couldn't get my head around it. I truly could not. While I was trying, she'd continued,

"You're probably mad at me because I didn't level with you. But think what would have happened if I had. You would have missed out on what must have been a very nice experience. Aren't I right?"

"Yes!" I responded. "You are. It was an amazing experience, but...."

"But what?"

The thought of Angela with five guys was so repulsive to me, I could not get it out of my head. She read my thoughts.

"Not any guys, Ron. You must know me well enough to realize that I can pick and choose. You may think it's not fair, but a girl can do this. Not so easy for a guy."

"But how does it work, Angela. And why so many guys? Why isn't one enough?"

"You can answer that for yourself. Think of all the relationships you've been in, but turn them around. Look at them from the girl's perspective. D'you think she was any more satisfied with the sex she got from you than you were with the sex you got from her?"

"That was never the problem."

"You think. But do you know? Maybe not in some cases, maybe in others?"

This did set me thinking, I'll admit. Appearances to the contrary, I rarely miss a football game. It's not impossible that.....?

"I tried it, too, relationships and all that stuff. I had the same experience as you. Lousy sex. I happen to like sex, a lot, and lots of it."

"And the only way you can get this is with a bunch of guys?" I blurted out.

"I didn't say that. The easiest way is with a bunch of guys, the right guys, who I know will please me in the ways that I like to be pleased. Not apes. Guys who are content to put the girl's needs first --- and second, and third."

Pause.

"How do you know whether a guy is a 'right guy'?" I said, sulkily.

"Now that would be my secret, Ron, wouldn't it. Girls have to have secrets, as I'm sure guys do."

I thought for a moment, then said, in what was probably an overly aggressive tone,

"Just explain Mandy and her gang for me, would you?"

"Yes. Well, I do know Mandy a bit. They like to share a guy from time to time. For a change. Well of course you know. They are attractive girls --- you know this too --- and amongst their extensive pool of male acquaintances are plenty of guys who like to share a girl. There. Is that clear enough for you?"

"You mean you girls trade off with each other?" I said, incredulously.

"Sure. Why not? Girls' grapevine."

"So let me get this clear," I said, deliberately. "My night with Mandy et. al. was in exchange for your night with....."

"Exactly. I knew you'd get it figured."

Holy cow! Was what I was thinking. 

"But that's downright manipulation," I said, indignantly.

"Nonsense. Matching like with like. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I suppose, as long as it's open and honest."

"Oh come now, Ron. If I'd come to this bar that night, when we met, and come right out with it, would you have gone along?"

I maintained a dignified silence.

"Of course you wouldn't. You wanted me. But more than me, you wanted sex, right? And sex you got. Tell me, honestly, that it wasn't great."

Reluctantly, I conceded the point.

"There, you see."

"Even last weekend, when you encountered the fearsome Jeanette, it was great, wasn't it?"

"It was at the time," I answered hotly. "But later."

"What later?"

"I'm sure you're aware I snuck off before round 3."

"What round 3?"

Embarrassed, I tried to explain. But Angela's tinkle of a laugh interrupted me.

"That's just them. They always do that. Lesbian humor, I suppose. Did it bother you? If so, I can tell you what Liz said to me."

"What did she say," I asked in trepidation.

" 'That one was the best yet', she said."

"You're joking!"

"Not at all. Apparently, you fucked Jeanette stupid and so comprehensively Liz came twelve times just watching."

"The bitches!" I said, bitterly thinking of the miserable week.

"They are a bit. I'm surprised they fooled you, though. Jeanette is a nympho, of course, so I suppose she'd have been up for even more. But, as it would seem, what you provided more than met expectations."

"Well I'll be damned. They might have told me," I said. The wounds of the week began to heal, but not instantly.

There was a short pause during which I attempted to assimilate what Angela had revealed. To say my feelings were mixed is putting it very mildly.

"We had a deal, I believe," Angela said, eventually, draining her glass. "I've lived up to my side, so...."

"Just you, right?" I said, with, I guess, still a trace of suspicion in my tone.

"Just you and me. Honest."

"But why? If you need five to satisfy you, why just me?"

"Who says I need five? Sometimes it's only two. I thought I'd try it out with one for a change. See how things work out. If it's good, fine. If not, I'll know not to try it again. What do I have to lose?"

I was still sore at having been manipulated. I guess guys don't like that much even if the outcome is a net positive. 

But, Hey! A deal's a deal, I say. 

Chapter 11

You will not be massively surprised that a traffic violation was committed as Angela drove down I5. It would have been two if we'd not hit town just a she was getting there again. How I hung on I will never know. Angela's art, no doubt.

Which was immediately invoked when we entered the hotel room. No messing around with restaurants this time. 'Do not disturb' went on the door handle right away, the dress came off and my eye fixed on yet another perfect female torso. I'd dreamed of this moment often enough, of course. But there's nothing like the real thing, is there. Well, that's what I think!

My damn eye didn't know where to look. Full breasts, still firm, hanging from her ribcage like ripe pears, long, stiff nipples pointing up slightly as though straining for my tongue. Long, slender legs, wide hips, a pronounced mound of Venus and MiGod, those cunt lips, the ones I'd been stroking, caressing all the way down I5. They hung now between two silken thighs, glistening.

I must have looked like a teenage kid confronted by his first female because she said, in a slightly impatient, though still seductive manner,

"C'mon. Get your gear off. It is your turn to come, after all!"

"No! Over here," she said.

I'd hurriedly stripped and was headed for the bed. Her arm directed me to an overstuffed chair in the corner.

"Hang your legs over the arms. I can get at you better that way."

Of course, I obeyed, spreading my thighs and managing after a try or two to hook them over the side-rests of the chair. MiGod, does that make a guy feel exposed. That's the whole point, I suppose.

Angela had fetched a couple of pillows from the bed. She laid them on the carpet and knelt between my thighs. My cock had sprung out of my Calvin's, and rested no longer on my stomach. She'd eased a finger underneath and raised it so it pointed at the ceiling.

"That is a nice one," she said, in a tone of admiration. "Nice form."

"Lovely shape," she continued, in the same tone.

"I know some girls go for size, but not me. The big ones rarely get really stiff. And even if they do, they're usually ugly. Now this one...."

She was running the fingernails of her other hand along its sides, slowly, up and down. 

"It did feel nice, so there were expectations."

My brain instructed my mouth to utterance, but no sound emerged. My body was too preoccupied shivering in anticipation. If she ran those nails along the underside, I was done for. 

But she didn't.

She allowed my cock to ease back, ran her fingernails down my sac, and closed in. A tongue tip teased the sensitive skin between my balls and my ass. 

OhMiGod! 

It moved around, flicking out, then darting in, gradually covering the entire area with moisture. Hands rested gently on my thighs, helping keep them wide apart. I've never felt so vulnerable, not in all my life. She could do with me whatever she wanted. I was hers.

What she wanted, it seemed was to tease me down there, edging towards the base of my balls, still tight in their encasement. Her tongue ran first around the sides, then up the middle, then round the sides again, round and round until my entire sac was cool as her saliva evaporated.

"Nice balls, too."

A murmur only, reaching me from between my spread thighs.

"Need maybe just a bit of loosening up," my ear picked out as one ball entered her mouth. 

She sucked on it gently for a while, then switched to the other, then back, now sucking just that little bit harder.

Holy Moses!

I couldn't put a time on how long she played with my balls, only that when she was done they did hang loose in their sac, and they hurt. Not too much, but enough to know they'd had a thorough workout.

An angel tongue now touched the underside of my cock, and slid upwards, perhaps one third. An absent finger raised its stem to the vertical, allowing that tongue to tease its underneath, its sides, all the way up to the tip.

If my dick had lost a modicum of rigidity while my balls were getting the treatment, normal service was rapidly resumed. A mouth closed over the tip, such sweet lips, sucking ever so gently. The urge to erupt had subsided, replaced by an ache, a burning desire that began to spread. My head went back as her tongue, lips, and Yes! those were fingernails, teased my cock mercilessly. 

Nerves tingled everywhere.

I suppose I'd closed my eyes, but they opened when sensation suddenly ceased. Something edged its way between my rib cage and the arm of the chair. A hasty glance. It was Angela's delicate foot. The other one was on the ground, in between a naked mound of Venus, poised. A hand strayed down and raised my cock, brushing its tip against something warm and very wet. This went on for quite a while and I had to instruct my groin in no uncertain terms not to thrust up, to inject my cock into that luscious cunt, plunge right into it and erupt.

Instead, Angela's cunt eased its way with a slowness that was maddening and yet also thrilling, inch by inch, down over my cock until it encased all of me....all of me that I cared about, that is.

When groin rested firmly on groin, all motion stopped. She straddled me, one foot between my rib cage and the chair arm, knee bent. The other foot was on the ground and her torso was sort of sideways on so I could see her pearl white tits in profile. Their nipples were extended and very stiff. They pointed slightly upwards, away from me, kind of haughty.

When she was satisfied that we were fully engaged, as it were, and her stance was comfortable, she leaned forward, resting a hand on the other arm of the chair. 

"You can stroke my tits if you like," came a voice out of the aether. "I'd like that."

Than what could be more enticing. Those succulent fruits dangled, just right. I stroked, gently, watching --- what bliss. And those nipples. I could not resist reaching up and grasping one into my mouth, sucking as gently as I could manage. She helped.

"You can bite a bit, if you like," came her voice. "But not too hard. Just close your teeth and pull out slowly."

Holy mother Mary!

She let me do this for an age. Not long enough for my cock to forget she was impaled on me, but perhaps this might have been because she had begun rocking slightly to and fro, then up and down an inch or to, then to and fro.

"Heavenly!" she sighed, reading my thoughts.

Her arms by her side, she'd raised her body so that it was vertical and began to ride me more vigorously. My head fell back against the chair, eyes fixed on breasts that bobbed slightly now, asynchronous with the movement of her groin over my cock.

"If I keep this up," my ear picked out, "you'll come won't you?"

'Yes! Yes! Yes!' my eyes said, narrowing. 'Make me come'.

"But that would never do, would it," she said, seductively. "We wouldn't want to come yet, would we? Spoil the fun already?"

As carefully as her cunt had encased my cock, it now withdrew leaving behind a suddenly cool void. When I looked she was gone --- well, all but her tongue, which began again to graze against the base of my balls.

"Look! They've gone all tight again," she said, as though surprised.

I'll spare you the rest. How long it went on, how many cycles she took me through --- I truly have no idea. I just knew that every time she ceased teasing my balls out of their sac, sucking on them until they hung loose, and then allowed her liquid cunt to slide down over my cock, I edged one increment closer to eruption.

Delayed gratification. Have you heard of this? I can't say the actual words were known to me, but what they meant was evident in every muscle. Will-power was no longer enough. My body took over and tried to thrust up into her. It didn't work. A cock that is already impaled from tip to stem inside a woman's cunt can thrust only if she wants it to.

Which Angela evidently did not. I recalled what she had said. Days!? Oh, please God no! 

She hadn't spoken for a while. I suppose she enjoyed watching a man's body reduced to jelly before her eyes. I wouldn't blame her. It must be fun. From where I was at, the urge to come was so overpowering I was quite sure that the next time......

"Don't worry, Ron," I heard her say, dimly through the fog that engulfed a brain that strained only for one thing. Release!

"Your body will tell you when it's time. It's worth the wait."

'What the fuck d'you think it's been telling me for the past two hours?' my brain instructed my tongue to enunciate. But all that came out was a deep groan.

Gratification eventually came, but not in the way I'd expected. Angela had just completed another cycle. Her cunt left my cock, which fell back against my stomach, huge and throbbing. I groaned inwardly, waiting for her tongue to start work on my balls. But it didn't. Instead, I heard her voice, uncharacteristically hoarse.

"I can't take any more. Come and fuck me, you bastard! Fuck me shitless."

She was lying on the bed, thighs wide, holding her cunt-lips apart. Bright pink giving way to deep violet gleamed like a beacon across the room.

"Come on, come on. Do I have to get myself off?"

If you haven't been there, you've no idea how long it takes to unwrap your thighs from the arms of an overstuffed chair. And the sight of that cunt, the thought of it ruined any attempt at retaining even a semblance of dignity. Fortunately, the bed was close by so I did not need to gain a stance. I scrambled onto it and struggled into position, intending to take my weight on my hands.

"Lie on me!" she said, commandingly. "Crush me into the bed. Fuck my brains out." 

I swear I've never come that hard, or that long. Semen shot up the narrow channel in huge spurts, one after the other, and always more. And every one spurred her on to greater exertion. As my body writhed, so her breathing got heavier, and heavier.

"Don't stop," she screamed. "Don't you dare stop!"

She hollered some more and uttered words and phrases unknown to any dictionary. 

I had so far lost myself in the throes of that monstrous orgasm, I drove her into the bed like a dervish. The bed pushed back rather effectively so the pair of bodies left its surface, to crash down again, faster, harder.

"Don't stop," she cried, as if there was a danger that I would.

Than which nothing was further from the jelly in what was left of my brain. Even as the come began to slide out of her, adding unnecessarily to the lubrication, my rump continued to move, faster and faster, expletives to stream from her mouth as her body writhed in massive orgasm.

I'm told mutual orgasm is rare. Girls usually fake it. Make the guy feel good.

Nothing fake about Angie! Her first orgasm was essentially coincident with mine. I say 'essentially' because there was nothing 'incidental' about either. Not, at least, judging from the shoutin's and hollerin's from a pair of throats, and not of epithets that I'd care to commit to the printed page, I'll admit to that!

And the way she clutched me with arms and thighs suggested this might be a longish haul.

Not that I had anything against that. Hours of teasing had raised the pollen in both of us to an extent that one orgasm, however huge, would not extinguish. 

I did slack off the pace some, though, even though her heels drumming on my butt suggested she'd prefer otherwise. But a guy can keep that level of pounding up only for so long. At least I can. And anyway, she'd teased me long enough. If it was now my turn, I wasn't complaining. Gradually, I slowed the stroke, which though still full cock, and still landing with force, I knew I could keep up for quite a while. I ignored pleadings of the nature,

"Fuck me, you fucking bastard!"

which graced the air of the room from time to time between pants, groans and every which kind of epithet, and maintained a steady pace.

If I do say as I shouldn't, it worked a treat. It wasn't long before her cunt began again to vibrate, her limbs to twitch, her head to rock from side to side, and a second orgasm to break. I just kept on going, maintaining a comfortable stroke while orgasm after orgasm washed over her.

The pair of us were bathed in perspiration. Angie ceased urging me to greater efforts, just lay back and celebrated her orgasms more sedately.

I kept going for an age and a day --- well it seemed so to me --- before the need to come re-acquired its former urgency. I'll confess at that point I lost control. The force of my thrusts bounced our bodies in the air again on the rebound, Angie clinging onto me, still going strong. She came again, of course, just as my head went up, semen spewed from my dick, two throats began again to holler and shout --- animals in heat. 

I fucked her right though that orgasm, and perhaps she had another little one before my cock decided enough was enough. My butt told me I was impaled deep inside her, but my dick could feel nothing. It had run out of steam. 

I lay on top of her for a long while, two pairs of lungs gasping for air. Somehow I found the energy to roll off her onto the bed, my chest still heaving, whether from the aftermath of my second orgasm of simply due to physical exhaustion. 

"Fucking hell!" Angie said after a while, though quietly. 

Chapter 12

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have done because Angie was shaking me awake. I opened my eyes and saw dimly her angel-shaped face, eyes bright, hair still wet from the shower.

"It's a lovely day," she said. "We should get out. The beach is great, you'll see."

I tried to keep my groan inaudible. 'The beach'? It was the middle of winter.

She dragged me off the bed and propelled me into the shower. That helped, but when I tried to dry myself every muscle protested.

Later, strolling along the beach munching on a panini and sipping a coke, the stress died gradually away. Angie had not exaggerated. The beach was wonderful. The sun was hot and the only problem was the chill breeze that hit whichever side of one was exposed to the open sea, from whence it came. High cliffs towered on the other side and by walking close to them the effect of the breeze was less disturbing.