0 comments/ 17582 views/ 0 favorites Thirty Minutes By: jkoffi I wasn't surprised when he called. He was ballin my girl while he was sniffin after me at the same time. He was trying to tell me that he went after my girl when what he wanted was a chance to get to know me. He just needed to test the water to see if I was out of his league. How many times did I have to hear about his "good dick" and his "trickin tongue". Yeah right. I knew that shit wouldn't last. Punk ass nigger. That's how I thought of him. On his hands and knees lapping at my pussy like he ain't been fed in days. How the hell did I get myself into this shit. With him no less! His black ass better believe he is on the clock. You got 13 minutes before you got to git the hell outta here. Like some fuckin timekeeper at a high school debate. Let me back it up and tell you how I got to be a human stopwatch... We met the brother at the same time. We was gettin our party on. Fieldin admirers (horny niggers) left and right. The night was movin fast but the pickins was slim. My girl was downstairs on the prowl. I was standin at the railing surveying the crowd when I spotted hot trade at the bar. What brought that up in here? See I know how to play the game. I got this look. I don't drink, I don't smoke, I speak "good" english in short I'm a "good catch". I have been called a commodity. The successful sista. But tonight the good girl image might get a little dirty. His bald head caught my attention first. He looked like a TV star. Kinda like that guy on "Six Feet Under". You know the bald head, black, gay cop who kickin it wit that white boy undertaker. Please God don't let this thang be gay. He was fine. I eased downstairs to stake my claim. The closer I got the less I thought about my rap. I just wanted to feel the heat close to me. He was standing at the bar. Sipping on a Heineken and watching the action. I waited for him to look in my direction. He did. With no game in mind I put up my finger and crooked it. "Come here". No verbal communication, just crooked that finger and he started to move. Damn that was easy. He looked even tastier up close. "You like to watch?" couldn't come up wit nothin betta. Then I said "I want you to dance wit me." The music was that dance hall reggae style. When that brother put his hands on me my skin got hot. DAMN! He felt sho nuf good! "Where you from?" I asked. "Who gives a shit" is what I was thinkin. "Ghana", he replied. "You are the finest Ghanain I have ever met". Then came that goddamned, kick ass smile that made my panties wet. This ain't me. I swear I don't go roun pickin up men in clubs. I can count one time I did that before that night. He hung around a few months but I swear this ain't my style. But I couldn't let this one get away. My body would have kicked my ass if I didn't try. He rode with a friend. Figures. "Let me tell my friend you givin me a ride home". His friend was cool wit it. I had seen him around the way. He was surprised to see his friend was leaving wit a piece of ass he had been tryin to nail for years. Life's fucked up that way sometimes. Meantime, my girl had landed free breakfast. In the south, after the party the after party is at the Waffle House. If somebody else buying, my girl's eatin steak and eggs scrambled with cheese. I can't eat late at night. I don't feel comfortable sexin on a full stomach. And I was seriously aimin for some ass this night. This mornin's wallet was South African. My girl was kickin shit on top of shit and his ass was eatin it up. Desperation makes people take shit they normally wouldn't off people. I had a cup of coffe. I figured I could use the caffeine later. When we parted ways, his fine ass in my car and my girl in his car, I realized I didn't even know where this brother lived. Didn't matter. Nothin mattered but gettin my hands on a little piece of heaven. I know you think I'm gonna tell you about me stretching out this Ghanain trade but that ain't where the story is this time. No doubt I did hit it. Then I backed that bitch up and hit it agin! That be some juice for another story. Back to the muff diver. That Sunday was so hot it was just damn hot. He hit my cell phone late in the afternoon. "You want to go out and get something to eat." I was thinking hell no but I said, "I'm not really hungry." That sounded nicer. He comes back with "I really want to see you. I miss you." Like I don't know you dying to get yo dick in me. "That is flattering," I'm still on that nice tip. "You could meet me at my place. I'll give you directions." Why not. I ain't doin shit tonight. "That would be nice." What else would the predictable dumb ass say?! He rolled up about an hour later. The brother was wheeling large. Shiny, silver, sharp. Nothing like the piece of crap he was toolin in that first night. I remember him having to lift the passenger door up jus to close it! His stock just went up...but not by much. He stepped out of the ride. He look like he should be back in that old damn death trap he used to drive. How you gone impress me lookin like that. Funky unkept dreds. Baggy tank top and pants. dirty sneaks. Did he bathe today? "You got a nice place," here we go. "Welcome. Come on in." The dance starts. "What you been up to?" "This and that." "You been thinking bout me?' "Why would I do that?" I can't believe this dumb fuck. "I been thingkin bout you everyday. Missing you. Hoping you want me now." "Yeah , right", pathetic dumb fuck! "Oh come on. Why you always so mean to me?" "Remember, you the one wit da thick soup." If you didn't have no girlfriend, I still wouldn't want cha. It's already 10:16 at night. And I ain't a morning person. We sittin on the sofa in the front room. He talkin jack shit. I ain't hearin it. I ain't feeling it but I damn sho smell it. This boy did not wash his ass fo he stepped up in my camp smellin like a grease monkey! I have to give him this tho, he got mad skills. Damn good mechanic. Not them backyard kind neither. Certified and schooled. If I didn't have a car that might need them skills his stankin ass would not be on my sofa this night. Yada yada yada yada. What the hell is this fool talkin bout? Its 10:25 and he starts massagin my toes. "You wanna rub my feet?" Now you talkin what I wanna hear. "Okay but don't get too personal. They just feet." Rub'em hard now. "I love the way you always polish your toes. It's so lady like." Less lippin mo rubbin. "Thank you." "I can't believe I'm finally here with you. Like this. Its like a dream of mine." Oh shit! "You need to have higher aspirations." That'll fuck his brain. Now he's rubbin my legs. Not bad. He slipped them mechanics hands up my skirt and started massaging my thighs. "Hey stop that". But my pussy is startin to juice. I learned early on that I can't trust my own damn body. I swear if he put his finger in my twat, my juices would burn that bitch off! "Please just let me touch you. You say stop, I'll stop. I'll do whatever you tell me to do. I just wanna be with you." It's on now muthafucka. The clock on the VCR reads 10:30. "Okay. But you betta stop when I say stop or you ain't never gonna touch this again." I pulled my skirt up over my hips and opened my legs wide. The soles of my feet propped up on the edge of the coffe table. "You not wearin panties?!" No shit Sherlock. "It's too hot. I don't wear'em at home when its hot." Or when I'm hot!! He leaned over and touched my clit with the tip of his tongue. "Oh, you so wet." Benedict cunt! Juice up for any fool. "Could we move the table back? I need more room." h goddamn. We got a muncher in the house... The brother went down so fast my pussy didn't know what hit it! Whooo. Got to be mo careful . Stay in control. There are two kinda folks on this earth...those that fuck and those that get fucked. I aim to be the first kind. " This is the deal. It's 10:45, you can stay for as long as you make me feel good or 11 o'clock, whichever comes first." Cold hearted bitch. Who runnin this sho? "Ohh that's mean. I'm so hot. You so wet." I can't stand a whinny bitch. "That's the deal. Take it or leave now." Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop...... I swear to GOD, this nigga coulda asked for my ass and I'da gave it to' em. DAMN. I couldn't thank and for a minute I couldn't see. Fucka blinded me! My toes curled. I had knots up my twat. Lord help me Jesus. "It's 10:55. You have 5 minutes." Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop...... "Please give me some more time. This ain't fair." "You need to learn some self control." Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop...... "If you can make me cum in the next five minutes. Next time its yo turn." Dumb ass. Everybody knows a muff in the mouth is worth two down the road. I grabbed them knotty dreds and pushed his face deeper into my hungry hole. Oh shit! "You got two minutes to make me happy!" Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop...... Holy S-H-I-TTT! It's yours now boy. Whip it. Got to be more careful. Whew!!! This sumbitch might be drownin! I lifted his face with two fingers and said "It's 11 o'clock," as I put one leg on the floor. "Please don't do this to me." Smug. I got mine. Thank ya. "When am I gonna see you again?" Times up. "It hurts. Look at me. Why you so mean to me?" He had a point. His shorts were bulgin like he was packin a cannon! I heard he could slang that thang too! "You need to learn self control. It's 11:03. Good night." He limped to the door straightnin his shorts. He did seem to be in pain. He turned to me, my satisfaction drippin offa his chin, "Can I at least wash my face?' I reached behind me and handed him a paper towel. "You drive home cafully." Oh well...at least I gone sleep good tonight. Thirty Minutes Okay, so it's been forever and a day since I've posted anything. Life has a way of intruding in my best-laid plans, and it turns out that I'm unwilling to give up the frequent flyer miles which seem to accompany that happening. That said, this is a flash story which was inspired by all those "Loving Wives" tales which include the well-meaning or busybody secretary (or PA) who, despite being instructed not to say anything, decides that it's appropriate to give the errant spouse an update – and, frequently, contact information – so that they can contact the wronged member of the relationship. It takes place at the tail end of any of these stories, and is (at best) a tangential story line. Don't expect any romance, sex or even a dramatic confrontation. This is just my attempt at capturing what I hope would would happen if I was the victim of such a "well-wisher".... -Ntropy586 --------------------------------- "Close the door behind you, please," she heard as she entered Terrance Stark's office. The summons to report to the CEO was unexpected, and her curiosity was high. It wasn't every day that a Personal Assistant was called from the factory and told to report to the executive offices. As Carolyn continued into the room, she spared a moment to examine the face of the man that everybody in the company knew, but with whom she had rarely interacted. She quickly took a seat in one of the two guest chairs in front of his desk, at which point he began to speak. "There are questions which I need answered," he began. "First, have you spoken with Mr. Snow's wife, recently?" "Yes," Carolyn replied, feeling that, perhaps, things between her former boss and his estranged wife were now improving. It had been gut-wrenching to learn that the two had separated, as she had always thought that her former boss and his wife were a perfect couple. Adding to the shock, it had been announced that her boss, Mr. Snow, had accepted a promotion and was transferring to the company's Phoenix location. "I see," Mr. Stark commented, before continuing. "When did this occur?" "Yesterday afternoon." "And what," he asked, "did you discuss?" "Mrs. Snow had called to speak to her husband," Carolyn answered, "but I informed her that I was unable to put her through." "Was that all you discussed?" Mr. Stark added. "Well," Carolyn continued, "when I informed her that I was instructed not to put her calls through, she begged for any information I might be able to provide." "And did you?" he asked, his voice even but hinting at curiosity. Carolyn's thoughts drifted back to the call she had taken, recalling the anguish coming through the receiver on her phone. She recalled that she had told Mrs. Snow that she couldn't talk at that moment, but had assured her that she would call her back, and then had waited until after leaving work to call and give her the information she felt would allow the 'perfect' couple to reconnect. After all, she thought, even true love needs a hand from time to time. "She was so broken up on the phone," Carolyn explained, "that I called her back after work and talked with her, in the hopes that she and Mister Snow would be able to get back together." "What, exactly, did you tell her?" "Well, I told her that Mr. Snow had been promoted, and was going to be in the Phoenix offices as of next week," she answered. Looking up, she noticed that Mr. Stark's face had an almost expectant look upon it. "Was that all?" he asked. "Well," Carolyn replied, thinking about the conversation, "she needed to get in touch with Mr. Snow, and so I gave her the address for the company apartment he's using." "I see. Anything else?" "Hmmm," she intoned, as she thought about her conversation, "I also gave her the phone number for the apartment." Carolyn wasn't sure, but it seemed as if Mr. Stark's eyebrows had moved downward slightly, as if he was fighting the urge to scowl. "And that was all, then?" Mr. Stark prompted again. "I also gave her the phone number for the office in Phoenix," Carolyn replied, as she recalled that part of her earlier conversation. This was met with a definite look of displeasure on her questioner's face, but before she could explore what this might mean, Mr. Stark continued the discussion. "I understand, from speaking with Mr. Snow, that you were told not to provide any information to Mrs. Snow, aside from informing her that you were instructed not to put her calls through, as he and Mrs. Snow were now separated," Terrance Stark's words were measured and even, but that did little to prevent a chill of apprehension from quickly shooting down her spine. It was obvious to Carolyn that Mr. Stark did not understand the entirety of the situation, so she hurried to explain. "I've known Mr. and Mrs. Snow from the day that I became his Personal Assistant," Carolyn hurriedly said. "They're perfect together, and I know that this is just a bump in the road for them. I had to get them back together!" Thirty minutes later, as she was left her security escort at the front door with her personal belongings contained in the box in her arms, Carolyn reflected on the end of her meeting with the company President. "So, to make sure that I have heard you correctly," Mr. Stark began, the scowl now definitely upon his face, "you had been instructed by your direct superior to provide no information whatsoever to his estranged wife beyond the information that you couldn't put her through to her soon-to-be ex-husband. Am I correct?" "Yes, sir," she hesitantly replied. "You decided – on your own – that you would ignore those instructions," he continued, as if her reply was neither expected nor required, "and instead provided all the contact information you were able to come up with when you called her back. Correct?" again, the question seemed rhetorical, but she answered anyway, hoping to show him that this was for the greater good. "Yes, but..." "Very well," Mr. Stark continued right over her reply. "By your own admission, you are guilty of gross insubordination, and are hereby terminated immediately...and with cause. You will be escorted to your desk, where you will have thirty minutes to gather all your personal belongings before being escorted from the building." Carolyn sat there, stunned. This wasn't supposed to happen. Mrs. Snow would reconnect with Mr. Snow, and everything would be as it should be! She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost missed what came next. "As we are terminating you with cause, do not expect a favorable response if we are contacted regarding your future employment endeavors," Mr. Stark concluded. He half-rose from his chair as he pressed a button on his desk, at which point the door behind her opened and two security guards entered; obviously, as far as Terrance Stark was concerned, this meeting had ended. "But...but...I had to!" she exclaimed. "They belong together!" "What you had to do," Mr. Stark retorted, "was do what is expected of you at work. You were expected to obey any legal request made of you, and Mr. Snow's instructions where contact with his wife were concerned were in no way, shape or form in violation of the law. You heard his instructions and did the exact opposite. "Your thirty minutes starts now." Thirty Minutes or Free ===================== A pizza delivery boy's first naturist experience. Everyone in the story is above the age of 18. This story was written as part of the Nude Day 2009 competition. I began working on it over a year ago, but stalled. The competition was the incentive to finish it. I hope you enjoy it. ===================== My first two years out of high school, I attended a community college, and worked as a delivery driver for a well-known pizza delivery chain we'll call "Checkers" to protect the innocent. It was a pretty good job. Most of the drivers were needed in the evening so it didn't interfere with classes. You got paid a salary, tips and commission (to pay for gas) which averaged more than $8.00 an hour when minimum wage was closer to $4.00. And once you really got to know your area, and your repeat customers, you could drive that hourly wage up to over $12.00 an hour. Heck, I thought it was decent money. I was one of the top two drivers, out of about 50 in our store. There might be as many as a dozen or more drivers on during a busy evening, but as a top driver you were usually able to pick your own runs. If you could plan out an efficient route, get multiples pizzas delivered on a single run, and get them there on time, you were guaranteed to take 3 or more pizzas out at a time, while the new guys were lucky to get 1 delivered in '30 minutes or less'. It made all the difference. You learned to run back to your vehicle, and into the store, and you avoided high traffic areas. You never turned off your car, and you made change on the way to each delivery for even bill payments. Anything to save a little time here or there. The more runs you made, the more deliveries you made, the more money you made. Just as important as knowing your area was knowing your customers. Big Dale, who lived behind the liquor store, ordered an EBA (Everything but Anchovy) pizza every Thursday night at 11:55 like clockwork. It was a short run and a guaranteed $3.03 tip. A local church group ordered 5 pizzas every other Wednesday right at the heart of our rush hour. It was out of the way and nobody wanted it. I took it every time because the tip was almost always $4.00 and the commission added another $1.50. Worth more than two of most othere delivery trips. There was a lady on Emerald Lane, in a neighborhood almost nobody could find, at the very limit of our delivery area that would order a pizza every couple of weeks. She only wanted a medium pizza, and she only tipped about $1.00. She always showed up at the door in a sheer black nightgown over black lingerie. I don't think she owned anything else. The call takers would flag me down whenever she placed an order, and I'd do my damnedest to deliver it. The three guys living on Simmons would only leave about 80 cents tip, but more often than not they'd offer you a beer. You learned to chug it fast. There was a gay couple in the Monroe towers, 5th floor that NOBODY wanted to take. It would slow you down so much to have to park, go inside, get buzzed upstairs, take the elevator, deliver the pizza and do the same on the way back. I owned that address. They were the nicest guys in the world, tipped $5.00, and would sometimes offer me a beer as well. My kind of customers. But my favorite customers, hands down, were the Reynolds. The Reynolds lived just outside of our delivery area, but I made the delivery anyway, as a personal run. When the order came in, I drove the 3 blocks outside of the delivery area, made the delivery, which was guaranteed never to be late, and almost always got a $2.66 tip off the deal, the change from $15.00. Even better, I was allowed to buy the pizza at an employee discount, so I made another three bucks off the transaction. I would have PAID $20.00 to make that delivery. Well maybe not at first. The first time was an easy mistake. The girl taking the order recognized Nandrell Street as in our area, but left out a digit in the address. Nandrell Street dead ended in a park, and picked up again on the far side, for a distance of three whole blocks, all outside of our area. Anything starting with a '1' was on Nandrell West, and was an address in the 10,000's. She had written down 1042, instead of 10402. I knew it because there were no houses in the 1000 block of Nandrell East. I was out on the run, and recognized the error only after I'd already delivered one pizza in the area. I went ahead and completed the run. An attractive older brunette in a robe answered the door. I immediately thought of Dorothy on Emerald Lane, and was almost sorry to have to explain the situation. She asked me to step in while she wrote the check. "I'm sorry it took a while, ma'am," I told her, even though I was still under the 30 minute limit. "But unfortunately you're out of the delivery area. Our area ends at the end of Nandrell East. I had to drive around the park to get here. In the future, the drivers probably won't be able to make the delivery. Our computer system kicks out the address as out of area, but the pizza girl wrote the address wrong and it slipped through the cracks." A much older guy, naked as a jaybird walked into the room as I was finishing my explanation. "Harold!" the lady scolded, then reached for a robe on a hook by the door. "The boy might be offended." Harold gracelessly took the robe and put it on. She wrote out the check including a two dollar tip. As she passed it to me she bemoaned the situation. "It's too bad. Nobody delivers out here. What if we met you at the edge of your delivery area, and paid you there? Would that be Ok?" she asked. "Not really, Ma'am. We're not supposed to do it. Driver's have been robbed, delivering to fake addresses, and we're supposed to call back and verify the number and address." I showed her the address on the check. "They'll catch this one when I go to close-out tonight." The name on the check was Marcia and Harold Reynolds. It matched the 'Reynolds' name supplied on the order ticket. She looked so disappointed; I wanted to help out if I could. You always liked a two-dollar tipper. And maybe if she understood I went out of my way, she could become a three dollar tipper. Three dollars for three blocks was a pretty good trade off. "Ma'am, we're not supposed to do it, but if you ask the girl taking the order if Dan is driving, and tell them it's a personal delivery, I'm allowed to deliver it on my own. It's usually for friends and family, off the clock. Just give them the 1042 address, and I'll deliver it when I can. I can't guarantee it'll be in 30 minutes or less, but if it's as late as tonight, I can probably get it here pretty quick." "Why Daniel! That's very kind of you, but I wouldn't want you to get in trouble." "I think I'll get by ma'am. I've been there a while, and do a good enough job to get to bend a few rules now and then." Harold seemed anxious to eat his dinner, and he carried the pizza off to the back of the house. "Let the boy go already, Marcy. He's burning money every minute he's not out there delivering the next pie." At the door he turned, "Thank you young man, your offer is very kind." "It is very kind, and I'm almost ashamed to say I'll probably take you up on it. Pizza is a personal weakness of mine, and I just hate to go out again once I'm home from work." "It'll be my pleasure, Mrs. Reynolds. I work most weeknight evenings except Tuesdays. Just make sure you ask for a personal delivery from Dan." I eased out the door, and ran to my car, in a hurry to get back. Harold was right. I probably lost a run in the time I'd spent there, and the $2.00 tip probably wasn't worth it. Maybe I'd have better luck in the future. * * * I'd completely forgotten about the order until three weeks later when Debbie, working the phones, told me I had a personal delivery for Harold. It took a second for that to register and then I checked the address. It was already after 9:00pm so things were really slowing down. "Anything else in the West Falls area?" Karen, at the next phone station, announced a nearby run she'd taken an order for a few minutes earlier. A two box run, to the right area, with no timer on the second pizza. I was happy to take it. I got there in 24 minutes. If you've ever been a "Checkers" delivery driver, you get very good at knowing exactly how long each run took. Harold answered the door again, and I announced the pizza, as was my style, reading from the label. "Large Deluxe Checker's Pizza, one half-no green peppers." When I looked up I noticed that Harold was naked again. What was that about, was he some kind of damned exhibitionist? "Harold, your robe." I heard from inside the room, and when I peeked inside the door, I saw a naked Mrs. Reynolds headed my way. "Jesus!" he griped, walking away with the pizza, sans robe. "It's my damn house." "Good evening, Ma'am," I said hesitantly, trying to hide my nervousness. "That'll be $12.34." I tried not to stare. She grabbed her robe from beside the door, slipped it on, and then reached for her purse. "I'm sorry about Harry; he forgets that not everybody is at ease seeing nudity." She turned and passed me $15.00. "Keep the change, and thank you, that was very quick." "It was my pleasure, Ma'am," I assured her. "Anytime." She closed the door behind me, and I tried to recapture that image of her walking to the door, without a care in the world, and as naked as the day she was born. Damn! This topped Emerald Lane by far! * * * After a couple of months of occasional deliveries, I didn't get to see Marcia naked again, but I swear Harold never wore a stitch of clothing. On my latest delivery, I noticed that Marcy was wearing the same robe as every other time. After she paid me, I hesitated before leaving. "Ma'am?" "Yes Daniel? Is there something wrong with the check?" "Oh no, ma'am. I was wondering if I could ask you a question." I saw her face light up, a glitter in her eye. "Oh really? I wondered if you'd get around to it." "Ma'am - are you and Mr. Reynolds nudists?" I asked. She smiled, "We prefer to use the term naturists." I was stuck for a reply. I guess I gaped for a few seconds until her pretty laugh brought me out of it. "Well, that's a unique enough response!" she giggled. "Does it bother you?" "Oh, no ma'am! I mean, well it kind of surprised me at first, but Harold is right, isn't he? It is your home. I figure you should have the right to do pretty much what you want in your home, as long as it's not hurting anyone else." "You know, Daniel, that's quite a mature attitude. I only wish that more people saw it your way. Quite a few are uncomfortable around us, even clothed." "If you don't mind my saying so, ma'am, that's just crazy!" She smiled. "Yes it is. Thank you, Daniel. She stood before me patiently. "Was there anything else?" "Uh, no ma'am. Enjoy your pizza!" I took off at a run. It'd be nice to get in a couple more runs before clocking out at 11:00. * * * A week later, it was another Reynolds run. 9:10pm. Pretty typical. I arrived at the door, knocking and waited, wondering. I didn't need to wonder long. Marcy Reynolds answered the door, saw it was me, and invited me in. She walked to her purse completely naked, and I had the first chance to really look at her. She was very pretty. Slender from behind, with nice curves on her hips and a pretty butt that was exciting to watch as each step put it through its moves. She leaned over and wrote me a check, and I just stared at her body. Then she stood, walked to me, and handed me the check. I tried to keep my eyes locked on hers. "Don't worry about it," she said softly, smiling for me. "About what?" I asked. "You're expected to look. Just don't stare too long." I let my eyes slowly run up and down her body, coming back to her pretty face. "You don't mind, do you? If Harold and I don't go through the pretense of dressing for you?" "No ma'am!" I eagerly agreed, "Not at all. Not at all." She had a beautiful smile. She reached out and put her hand on my arm, "You make a girl feel young, Daniel. Thank you." It was an uncomfortable ride back to the store. I'd have to start wearing loose pants if I continued delivering to the Reynolds. * * * After that night our relationship changed. Nearly every week, the Reynolds would order a pizza, and they'd be completely naked when I arrived. I was invariably invited in while they took the delivery, and I slowly grew used to seeing the attractive Mrs. Reynolds in the buff. It didn't change the fact that she was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. I still couldn't help but look her over every time, and she caught me every time, smiling. And every damn time I blushed like a little kid. While I waited, I'd usually take the opportunity to ask a question or two, that I'd been thinking about during the week. They seemed to get a kick out of answering. Me: How long have you been naturists? Harold: I was born naked boy, where's your brains? Marcy: Since I met Harold, 21 years ago. Me: What was he, a babysitter? Harold: Nobody likes a smartass! (But it did make him smile.) Me: Are there many other naturists around here? Marcy: There are quite a few. We have several friends in the area, and there are at least two 'clubs' within an hour of here. Harold: We're not into the 'private clubs' mind you. Just the landed ones. Marcy: And we're not so much into finding other naked people, we just abhor being clothed. Me: You mentioned landed clubs? What's that? Harold: Land? Property? Real-estate? Marcy: It's a club with property. Usually have a pool, hot-tub, a clubhouse, barbecues, and events for crowds. You pay a membership, and most everybody is naked. It's like a private naturist resort. Harold: That's what I said, isn't it? Property? Me: Uh, are you like, swingers? Harold: Do we look like swingers? Marcy: Swinging is about the sex. Nudism is about being unclothed. It has almost nothing to do with sex. It's about comfort and freedom and relaxation. Harold: Answer me, boy. Do we look like swingers? Me: Uh, no? Harold: Damn straight. Me: I can't get over the sex thing. If you'll excuse me, I have to say I'd want to be with Mrs. Reynolds all the time. Harold: You're with her now, aren't you? Marcy: Don't tease the boy, Harold. Harold: You're the one teasing him. Marcy: When you're naked often enough and long enough, it becomes less about the person on the outside, and more about the person on the inside. Me: (Grinning) I guess that explains Mr. Reynolds. Harold: Nobody likes a smartass, boy! Me: Is it common for Naturists to shave down there? Harold: They never used to. It's just a kid's fad. Won't last. Marcy: Many of us do. I've had a treatment to remove much unwanted hair, and it's becoming more and more common. It's whatever you're comfortable with. Harold: Men doing it! It's just showing off, if you ask me. Me: I'd be scared to death of getting hard all the time. Harold: You get over it. If it happens, don't advertise it, relax, you'll be ok. Marcy: It happens. Nearly all the men we know would simply roll over on the beach, or put a towel over themselves if in public. If it happens in your own home, or in a private setting, what's there to worry about? Me: Easy for you to say. Who would know if you got excited? Harold: Are you being a smart ass boy? Trust me you'd know. Marcy: I believe he was referring to me, Harold. If it happens just relax. Practice good manners, cover up if you're in public, and understand, that over time, it's less and less likely to happen. * * * One night, about six months after that first delivery, the girl taking the calls said I had a personal delivery, but they wanted me to call first. It was already past 10:00pm. I called the Reynolds' number, and Harold answered. "Say Daniel, I know it's late, but could you do us a huge favor?" "Certainly, sir, if I can." "Could you make a stop at the Walgreen's there, and get me a damn corkscrew? We seem to have lost ours. If you could pick up a six-pack of Diet Coke, I know Marcy would appreciate it. I hate to ask, but we're entertaining guests from out of town. If it's too much trouble, just let me know." He sounded a bit concerned I'd shoot him down. "It's no problem sir. I was about to check-out anyway, so I won't be holding up any other deliveries." I told him. "Just an excuse to look at my woman, I imagine," he said, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "But of course, sir? Can you blame me?" "Nobody likes a smartass, boy," he reminded me. "Yes sir, so I understand. I should be there in around 30 minutes." It was an order for two pizzas, and I checked out while waiting. A take-home of $56 dollars, not including my salary. A good night. With the pizzas in my hot-bag, I ran into Walgreen's and got the required items. I was at the door in 22 minutes. A damned good run, including the Walgreen's stop. Harold met me at the door. He blocked me from coming in for a second. "Her cousin and her cousin's kid are here. Just so you know. I don't want you to be uncomfortable." "I don't mind. It's your house, sir." "Thanks. And thanks for getting the stuff at the store. I really wouldn't have asked normally." He said, opening the door for me. "Sir. Anytime you'd like me to get something for you, and it's not too busy, just let me know. I don't mind. I imagine you must know that you're not just a regular customer by now. I don't tend to linger in my normal customer's homes." "She is a looker," he smiled. I laughed. "Yes she is, but it's more than that. I'm just a little bit fascinated I guess, about the whole lifestyle thing. And I enjoy your company immensely." I looked into the room and almost dropped everything. Marcy's cousin could have been her twin sister except for very long blond hair, that at the moment had me thinking of Lady Godiva, the end of her hair playing peek-a-boo with her bare nipples. The 'kid' was a naked girl around my age, a stunning example of what Mrs. Reynolds must have looked like 15 years earlier. It was a little more than my artificially calm demeanor could stand. I was knocked speechless. "Daniel, thanks so much for everything," Mrs. Reynolds said, coming over and taking me by the arm. "Harold said he thought you might be off for the night, would you care to stay and visit a while?" I couldn't breathe, never mind talk. I could see the laughter in Mrs. Reynolds' eyes. "It's Ok," she said softly. "We won't bite. Please stay." I finally managed to utter a few syllables. "Thank you, ma'am. I'd like to stay a short while if you don't mind." Harold was standing in my shadow. "C'mon in. Why don't you get comfortable?" I slowly unbuttoned my shirt, still in shock. My brain was in vapor-lock. "Daniel is a dear friend of ours who's been curious about the lifestyle for a while. I don't believe he's ever indulged around others before." Marcy explained to her cousin. I removed my shoes and socks, and after some debate, removed my pants as well. "Daniel, this is my cousin Brenda, and her daughter Alexis, who is attending... where are you going, dear?" "State. In the fall." I stood there by the door, in my briefs, my hands crossed in front of me. "No need to be shy, Danny," Brenda said, "You can remove those." "I don't think I should," I said embarrassed. Marcy laughed. "Isn't he darling? It's Ok, dear. An erection isn't going to scare us. To be honest, I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't have one. It's perfectly natural." I got up the nerve to remove the last article of clothing, and walked into the room, looking for an available seat. "Goodness!" Marcy said, and I'm sure I blushed three different shades of red. "Oh! That would have been a BIG disappointment to miss," Brenda said. Thirty Minutes or Free Alexis scooted over on the couch, closer to her mother, and patted the small space next to her. "You can sit by me, Dan." Mrs. Reynolds chuckled. "I think it best if you sit over here, young man. That might be a little too much stimulation over there, and we just shampooed the rugs." She indicated the space beside her on the loveseat. "Ma'am, I think if we're worried about over-stimulation, it might be best if I sat as far away from you as possible," I warned her. She blushed for the first time that I'd known her. "Silly boy, you're such a sweet little liar. Have a seat." Harold harrumphed. "The lad's never lied once to us, and I doubt he's starting now." I don't know why we went through the seating rigmarole. Within seconds Harold was breaking out the pizza. "It's still hot; I'd rather eat it fresh, than reheat it." We sat around their kitchen table, and had pizza and wine. They had no problem letting Alexis and I drink. It felt a little weird; the stickiness of the vinyl under my legs, and it was distracting to see all the breasts around the table. All the women were rather smallish upstairs, no more than a B-cup, but it appeared to keep them firmer than I might have expected. I found myself looking at the difference in their breasts more and more often. Alexis, next to me gave me a gentle kick. I looked up to see what was up. She smiled, "It's ok to look but it's not polite to stare," she said softly. I looked around in horror, caught out, only to find a sea of smiling faces. "He does make you feel young, doesn't he," I heard Brenda say to her cousin. I stayed for over an hour, and really enjoyed myself, but knew I had to get out before too long. My parents would be wondering, and I did have classes in the morning. When I finally had to excuse myself, everybody stood, and I found myself receiving hugs and a kiss on the cheek from all of the women. I was still very embarrassed; my erection had never gone down the whole time I was there, although I'd tried to cover it whenever possible. Brenda shocked the daylights out of me when she patted my erection. "You might want to take care of that before too long. That can't be healthy." Mrs. Reynolds almost had an aneurism. "For goodness sake, Brenda! He's just a boy." "He's more man than I've seen in over eight months now," she said. "Hell who am I kidding? He's more man than I've ever had." I left in a state of complete and utter confusion. But I knew that I had really had a good time, and would do it again on a moment's notice. * * * It was two weeks before they called again, and life seemed back to normal. I did stay and chat a while, and Harold even asked if I'd like to visit a while, but I was still on the clock. Under their grilling I admitted that I had a very good time. "Alexis is quite a pretty girl," Mrs. Reynolds said. "Yes she is. I imagine if she's lucky she'll grow up to be the spitting image of you." Marcy, blushed for the second time I knew her, and even Harold chuckled at that one. * * * It was a few weeks later, and I'd gotten another late delivery call. A couple of friends and I had been talking about our stranger deliveries, and I found myself holding back about the Reynolds. I wasn't even sure why. Derek and I had been working there the longest, and we both had some pretty good stories, but this one was different. It wasn't a story. It was part of my life. Whenever the call came in after 10:00pm, I typically tried to check-out before leaving, since the last one was off the books anyway, and I could hang out and chat a bit. It seemed like at least half the deliveries were getting later and later, and I wasn't complaining. Of course, the Reynolds knew whenever I was off the clock. All the drivers had to wear company shirts, and those stayed at work. It was the duty of the store openers and closers to make sure they got washed and hung up. When I showed up in my own shirts, they knew I could stay a bit. Mrs. Reynolds greeted me at the door, taking the pizza and heading to the back of the house. "Come on in, Daniel. I hope you can stay a while," she said, walking into the kitchen. She turned at the door. "Can I get you a drink, maybe a glass of wine, or a beer?" "Thank you, ma'am. Are you having anything?" She laughed. "Always the gentleman. I have an open Pinot Noir, if you'd like a glass." I didn't know a Pinot Noir from Pinocchio, but I accepted gratefully. She returned with a glass in each hand. When she saw me still standing in the entrance, she pouted. "Daniel, there's something you should know. We're different, Harold and I, and we know it. When we meet with other Naturists, it's like being with our own. It's Us and Them. We look at the 'textiles' and just don't understand how they can go on the way they are." She gave me a smile, "When you stand there, completely dressed, it almost makes me sad. I know you're more like us. You're more accepting, and you're comfortable around us and others. But as long as you're dressed, it's like you're on the other side of the line. Can't you just get comfortable and relax when you're here." I carefully removed my shirt. "I'd like that, ma'am, but I'm still not sure if I should. When the time is right, or not. I guess I'm not sure what's appropriate." I continued with my shoes and socks, setting them by the door. "Then let me clear that up for you. You are our friend. I meant what I said to Brenda. You are welcome here anytime. And anytime you're here for even 5 minutes, you're welcome to relax with us." She placed the wine cups down at each end of the couch, and waited. I stood there, still uncomfortable removing the last item. She laughed, and walked to me. "Daniel. Dear Daniel. Don't be ashamed. It's the most sincere compliment you could give an old broken down lady like me." "Mrs. Reynolds! Please, you're hardly old OR broken down. You are the sexiest woman I know." I watched in complete shock, as she dropped to her knees, reached up and pulled my underwear down, carefully pulling it over my hardness, and lowering it all the way to my ankles. "I find that hard to believe," she said. "A college full of young ladies and you think that I'm the sexiest." I was almost shaking, looking down at her sitting back on her heels, looking up at me from just in front of my hard cock. "Me too, I guess. Alexis is as pretty as any girl I go to school with, and yet, I hardly noticed her with you here. I'm sorry. You just drive me crazy. It's nothing you do, it's just you." She rose up and I watched her hand slowly reach out for me, her open palm gently stroking my staff, softly. "I'm afraid this is going to stand between us and you really relaxing. Let's get this out of the way, so your mind isn't so one-track." I held my breaths as her lips approached and gave me a kiss just below the swollen head. Her tongue ran along my underside, and she pulled at my cock, which had been pointing directly at the ceiling, and pointed me more toward her, allowing her mouth to slowly engulf me. I grabbed the table beside me before my legs gave out. "Oh Marcy," I gasped. Her hand stroked me in tandem with her mouth, reaching beyond her moist lips. It was all too much, too soon. "I'm going to come, Mrs. Reynolds," I gasped, and she pulled her mouth off of me, her hand stroking me briskly. "Come for me Daniel," she whispered, and she didn't have to ask twice. I grunted, coming hard, shooting my juices all around her upper chest and neck. When I finally stopped spasming in her hand, she leaned forward and kissed the slick, ultra-sensitive head lightly, a small lick so intense I almost pulled out of her hand. She stood, and pointed me at the couch. "Have a seat, darling boy." She disappeared into the back of the house, and appeared a couple of minutes later, cleaned up. She also had a moist hand-towel which she used to wipe me down. "I don't know what to say, Mrs. Reynolds," I stammered, my mind unable to grasp what had just occurred. "I believe it would be appropriate to call me Marcy, now, don't you think?" "Yes, Marcy, thank you." I had to say it, although I'd rather ignore it. "What about Harold, Marcy?" "Harold understands. That's part of why he's left us alone tonight. I've been known to occasionally have other lovers. I believe he'd be happier if I settled down with one. What would you think of that?" she asked, sipping from her glass, as if she was asking if I like the wine or not. I sat slack-mouthed, not knowing what to say. She stood. "Daniel, I'm going back to my bedroom now. I'm hoping you will join me. And you're not hurting Harold by doing this, in many ways you are actually helping." She didn't add anything else, just turned and walked away. And damn me if I wasn't getting hard again. I walked into her bedroom for the first time, and she was lying on the bed, a pile of decorative pillows behind her, holding her up. "I thought you said that nudism wasn't about sex, you saw the inner person, not the outer shell?" She smiled, and leaned back, beckoning me. "Silly. Just because it's not ABOUT sex, doesn't mean we don't HAVE sex. And if anything, it makes the sex better." "And more frequent, I bet." She smiled. "Maybe a little. And if the inner person is beautiful is it wrong to appreciate the outer beauty as well?" I sat at the edge of the bed, shyly touching her, my hand gliding across her leg. "I guess not," I answered, looking at all her 'outer shell' beauty, and enjoying it immensely. "Appreciate me, Daniel. Appreciate me to your heart's content. Appreciate me in every way you've imagined in the last several months. I need to be appreciated." I leaned over her, drawn to her breasts, the very ones which had been the center of so many of my dreams. I touched them, gently, slowly filling my hands, feeling her, holding her, daring to lower my lips and see what she felt like in my mouth. I sucked on her nipple, drawing my teeth gently across it, holding it while my tongue flicked across the hardened tip. I had to have both, and I moved to the further one, leaning across her. My tongue licked her, moistening the whole area, before taking her in my mouth once again. My other hand held her abandoned nipple and teased it, rolling it squeezing it, with just the three fingertips, until both were equally hard. Mrs. Reynolds sighed, stroking my head and gently encouraging me. As my attention slowly changed, I was sliding down her body, feeling the curve of her ribs before stretching across the expanse of her soft belly. My hands wandered freely, all over, just feeling her skin, growing to know her. I continued south, moving between her legs, the smell of her stronger, incredibly intoxicating. She was carefully trimmed, and I looked at her, studying her, seeing the little bit that was hidden during all the times I'd seen her naked. I touched her, to see how she felt, how she reacted, and then leaned down to try some of the things I'd heard about, read about, and even looked at, without ever having the chance to really understand. I tasted her, her fragrance flooding my senses. I touched her, feeling her wetness, sliding a finger inside of her to see what it felt like. I stroked the edges of her entrance, feeling their puffiness, and pushing them aside to see more of what made her different from me. I found myself licking her, repeatedly, every sound she made, every slight moan a scream of encouragement. I wanted to pleasure her as she'd done for me. I don't know how long I was at it, but she pulled me up after a while. "That was wonderful, but I'm getting sensitive. Isn't there anything else you'd like to do?" Her smile was an invitation to indulge myself beyond my wildest dreams. I was as hard as possible, and I kneeled between her legs, trying to slide into her, when she reached down and helped, placing the head at her entrance. I pushed inside of her, holding my breath, concentrating on the feel of the penetration. I closed my eyes, and pushed deep. "Slowly, Daniel. I'm not going anywhere. Take your time." I tried to slow down, but the feeling was overwhelming. I pulled out to the very edge and looked down. I wanted to watch myself enter her. See my thick rod slowly disappear. Again, I pushed until I could go no further, and then eased back out. "You're amazing," I told her, as I watched myself drive in and out. I leaned down, and she spread wider to accommodate me. I braced my arms on each side of her and moved faster, feeling the fire spread through me. She watched me, and I was fascinated with her face and the tiny expressions of change that would dart across them. She closed her eyes, arching her head back, exposing her long, sleek neck. I leaned down and kissed her neck, my tongue darting out and touching her, running the length of her jaw line, smelling her hair, nibbling an ear lobe kissing her cheek, and slowly moving my lips over hers until I was kissing her for the first time. She accepted and returned my kiss, her tongue reaching out to my lips and teeth, brushing against me, sliding beside my own tongue. My lips rested, just barely touching hers, my breath coming faster and faster, as my movements speeded up. She was pushing back against me, and I felt the desire to finish nearly overwhelming me. "I have to stop, Marcy," I gasped trying to stop, holding myself still inside of her, my cock throbbing, warning me I may have waited too long. "Don't stop Daniel, finish inside me," she said softly. I groaned, wanting to delay it, to continue thrusting into her, but as soon as I moved, I knew it was too late. I roared as I pushed. I was already completely inside her, but I felt like my entire body was going to pulse out of my hardness as I pushed and pushed, emptying my soul into her. She held me, as I gasped and trembled. "Thank you Daniel," she said softly. I felt myself still mostly hard inside her, and I closed my eyes, slowly moving, feeling myself hardening, my movements slowly lengthening, my heart slowing just a bit from the hummingbird pace it had assumed. She still felt wonderful, looser, wetter, but incredible. I felt myself getting longer, harder, thicker. "Do we have to stop now, Marcy?" I asked. "No Daniel, we can take as long as you'd like. We can even try a few different things that I believe you may enjoy just as much." "I find that hard to believe," I assured her. "This is the greatest feeling in the world." "We'll see." * * * For almost another year, I continued to deliver pizzas to the Reynolds, and about once a month, Marcy and I would extend my understanding of love and sex. Harold always made himself absent at those times, and though I felt odd around him at first, I soon got over it, and loved the evenings spent there, visiting and occasionally meeting friends. I went away to college in the Northeast for my junior year, and we corresponded a few times, but school and my first real girlfriend made me grow lax. When I returned home for the summer, I stopped by the Reynolds house to find new homeowners there. I never had a chance to see Marcy or Harold Reynolds again. I wish I could have had one last chance to really thank her, and Harold. They changed my life for the better. Mrs. Reynolds, if you're out there, I thought you'd like to know I'm writing this in the nude. And thanks for everything. ========= Hope you enjoyed this little story. It's part of the 2009 Nude Day competition, and if you got this far, perhaps you'd be kind enough to vote. Thanks. Thirty Minutes to Go Hywel felt a flutter of nervous anticipation as he rang Eleri's doorbell. He told himself this was ridiculous, for the only purpose of his visit was the return of the car footpump his mother had borrowed from Eleri the day before. But he was an unusually shy lad, diffident and tongue-tied with women, and the strong sexual attraction he'd always felt towards his mother's best friend heightened rather than decreased his self-consciousness. Suddenly there was movement behind the door's frosted glass panes, and it swung open to reveal the lady herself, attired more casually than Hywel had ever seen her. Her raven locks, usually tied back in a pony tail, hung in waves to her shoulders, and her feet were bare below her sloppy jeans. But what made Hywel's heart beat faster was the outline of her largish breasts under the white man's shirt; the poking nipples and gently swinging curves betrayed her braless state. 'Oh, it's you, Hywel.' She gave him a ravishing smile. 'Hi', murmured Hywel, overawed. 'I thought it would be you, actually. Your Mum rang earlier to say you'd be over shortly'. Hywel unslung the leather holdall which contained the pump from his shoulder, and proffered it to Eleri. He half-hoped that Eleri would take it and bid him good-day. Yet, at the same time, he was excited by her physical nearness (close proximity to a sexy lady, for him, was a most unusual experience). And dared he imagine that she had left her bra off deliberately for him? As if reading his thoughts, Eleri, stooping down for the holdall so that her breasts wobbled enticingly, informed him: 'I'm afraid you caught me at rather an awkward moment. I've only just climbed out of the shower.' So that was the reason – she simply hadn't had time to dress properly. Hywel felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. 'You can stay for a cup of tea, though, can't you?' added Eleri, once more throwing Hywel's mind into turmoil. 'Well, I-I don't know...' he stammered, nonplussed. 'Of course you can. Come in and make yourself comfy on the sofa.' Eleri turned and marched down the front hallway, the play of the muscles in her firm buttocks well defined under the tight jeans. Hywel followed apprehensively. 'In there', Eleri told him, indicating a door on the left with a careless wave of her hand. Hywel passed into an untidy lounge and perched gingerly on the edge of a cream leather settee. Eleri, meanwhile, had disappeared, presumably to attire herself more respectably. But moments later she strolled through the doorway, still braless but now with two buttons undone, and bearing a bottle of malt whisky. Flinging herself on the settee, she snuggled up to him and thrust the bottle into his face. 'Have a quick dose of that. It'll relax you.' Hywel obeyed, gulping back a large measure of the fiery spirit, and almost gagged in the process. He was almost at his wit's end – nothing like this had happened before in his sheltered life. Eleri took the bottle from him, and sipped from it as her right hand caressed the back of his neck and then slid, exploring, under his shirt. 'What time is it, big boy? You mustn't be late for Mummy, after all', inquired Eleri, sensing his anxiety to be away. 'Er...it's five past two', returned Hywel, glancing at his watch. 'Very tense, aren't you?', she murmured, withdrawing her hand and placing it in comradely fashion round his neck. She waited awhile, then murmured in his ear: 'Would I be right, by any chance, in thinking you've never even so much as pecked a girl on the cheek? And that's partly because you're so shy, I know. But there's more to it than that, isn't there? If I'm not much mistaken, your mother's told you not to get involved with women in any away. Hasn't she just?' Hywel glanced up, blushing, and met Eleri's earnest (or was it secretly mocking?) gaze. 'Well, yes...it's true..I suppose...' 'She told me herself she doesn't want her kids fooling around with anyone, not anyone, till they're properly married', Eleri swept on airily, ignoring Hywel's discomfiture. 'Not that you're a kid any more. Next week, you're off to college, I gather. But I still think your mother's right. Young men can get into all sorts of trouble if they're not careful.' Surely, Hywel felt, she was now playing cat to his mouse. He mumbled agreement to this last proposition, and fidgeted nervously. Abruptly she rose and crossed to the hi-fi cabinet. 'Let's have music,' she announced, pressing the play button on the CD. The synthesised strains of New Age music, interspersed with birdsong, pervaded the room. Returning to Hywel's side, this bold hostess of his snuggled up to him, rather tighter than before. 'Because there are all sorts of shameless hussies out there,' she continued, maintaining her theme. 'For example, there are women who'll take a nice boy, give him a big slobbering kiss right on the lips, and even explore his mouth with their tongue. Did you know that?' Hywel still wasn't too sure where all this was leading, and decided his best policy was to sit tight and stare into space. But Eleri made no further move, and appeared content to hug him. Hywel was pleasantly aware of the weight of her left breast against his flank. Perhaps, though, it was time to return home – his mother didn't like him to stay out long, even though he was no longer a child. And yet the warmth of Eleri's presence was lulling him into a drowsy contentment from which he was reluctant to stir. Finally he roused himself and checked the time. It was twenty-five to three. Time to go. But, at that very moment, Eleri leaped at him, dragging his face against hers and starting to kiss him passionately. He could feel the moist circle of her lips on his, and then her tongue probed into his mouth, rolling and flicking. Fighting down an impulse to break free of her clutches, he gingerly put his arms round her and allowed his own tongue to fence with hers. For a short while they continued thus. Then Eleri broke away from him abruptly and sat by his side, panting heavily. Carefully she consulted the tiny gold watch that adorned her wrist. And presently she spoke once more, articulating the words slowly and deliberately, almost as if reciting an incantation. 'And there are ladies even more brazen than that. Ladies who think nothing of stripping to the waist in front of a guy. Can you imagine anyone being so shameless? Big boobs swinging around, just like that. And then they'll even let the fella play with their titties, or suck their nipples, or whatever.' Glancing sidelong at the taut swell of bosom beside him, Hywel felt a tremor of excitement stir in his loins. Any second now, Eleri would start unbuttoning her shirt, and then... But Eleri continued to sit motionless, and, beginning to fathom her game, Hywel took deliberate note of the time. It was now quarter to three. They passed the next half-hour in idle chit-chat. Then Eleri, still gossiping, brought her hands up to her shirt and, undoing two more buttons, pulled it clear of her left boob. Hywel stared, transfixed, at its full white curves, and instinctively reached out his hand to squeeze and stroke the firm yet lightly yielding flesh. 'You can suck it too, young man', whispered Eleri, and Hywel obediently bent his head and took the long nipple firmly in his mouth. 'Teeth', hissed Eleri sharply. 'Sorry', mumbled Hywel, and delicately re-applied his lips with greater care. Eleri gently ran her fingers through his hair, and the minutes passed, Hywel feeling quite at peace. At length Eleri laid her palms against his temples and drew him upright. She now removed her shirt altogether, flinging it onto the carpet. 'Rub my shoulders for me, will you, sweetheart,' she entreated. Hywel pressed his fingertips into her deltoid muscles and pummelled away vigorously. 'Mm, that's nice. Keep doing it.' Hywel worked away, noting with interest how her breasts shook slightly as he manipulated her back. And making her relax in this way seemed to soothe away his own nerves, for, finally, his manhood was beginning to swell. He stole a quick glance at Eleri to see if she'd noticed the bulge in his trousers. The direction of her gaze showed that she had indeed. 'And just a few women are utter whores. They'll undo the man's trousers, and pull them down. Then his briefs, they have to come down too, so they can have an eyeful of his manhood. But not content with looking, they have to touch. They'll close their fist round it, ever so gently, then start yanking away. But not too hard. They don't want him to shoot his load. Not just yet.' Hywel felt more timid than ever, as this speech went on and on. 'And you know what? They're quite happy to take him in their mouth, for goodness' sake. I suppose you didn't even know ladies ever did that...' Hywel couldn't look at her. Instead he consulted readout on the VCR in the corner, which showed it was now 15:25. Eleri rose and padded over to the hi-fi to change the CD. Hywel note the faint streak of white her bra-strap had left across her shapely back. The New Age music was replaced by a classical piece, which Hywel recognised as Ravel's Bolero. 'Ravel's Bolero?' thought Hywel to himself, who'd suddenly remember that that particular music was well-known as an accompaniment to lovemaking. Surely the suspense was over. It could now only be moments before this amazing lady flung herself on him. Eleri turned to rejoin him. Her boobs swung lushly from side to side. Once more she cuddled up to him. But that was all. The orchestra continued their rendition of the Bolero right through to its climax. At precisely 15:55, Eleri knelt on the carpet before him. Quite mechanically, she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, which she then pulled down together with his briefs in one swift movement. She made a leisurely inspection of his penis, which jutted unashamedly forth in a manner which belied the intense self-consciousness Hywel still felt. Gripping him between thumb and forefinger, she pulled up and down, gently at first and then with increasing roughness. Still holding him lightly, she lowered her head and slid her pursed lips over his glans. She sucked it lightly, ever so lightly, and then pushed all the way down until the tight ring of her mouth was fastened round the base of his shaft. Hywel watched in fascination as her face, partially obscured by the cascading dark tresses which hung down to his belly, tickling him softly, rose slowly but rhythmically up down his glistening length. He could feel his climax approaching, and, lying back, he closed his eyes. Then suddenly the velvet grip was gone. Hywel roused himself, and saw that she was gazing at him with dark soulful eyes. 'And there's one last bit. The biggest bit of all. There are even a few women who'll take all their clothes off, right their in front of the fella. They'll make make him probe their slit with his finger, rubbing their clit in circles, while they cry out aloud and their pussy gets moister and moister. And finally, these unabashed harlots will climb aboard the man, absolutely starkers.', she whispered in hushed, hypnotic tones. 'And guide him in. They'll sink down onto him, all the way. And then jerk up and down at a frantic pace, till the guy can't hold back any more. Then he shoots his load in her. And slips out. Finished.' Hywel was trembling with anticipation, and almost indeed with fear. As he cuddled up to Eleri, seeking reassurance, he had the presence of mind to note the time shown on the VCR. Just after 4. Could he survive the wait until half-past?