14 comments/ 285542 views/ 28 favorites Plain Jane By: Mikelh My mother’s name is Janine and I think she’s pretty; she doesn’t. I think everything about her is terrific but she always thought that I said those things just to make her feel better. She even started talking about doing things to her face and having her boobs done. She thought they were too big. I thought they were perfect. I got mom’s story slowly over the years and I think the main problem was that in high school, mom ran with the ‘pretty’ girls; too pretty girls. In any group there’s going to be those that are hot and those that are not-comparatively speaking. I’m sure that if my mother had been in a group of average girls she would have shone. It wasn’t the girl’s fault. They hung out with her because she was smart and funny but she still felt like she was always being picked last for a team. She told me how once some boys came over to her group at lunch and were hitting on the girls. One actually said to another of the guys, “You get Janine because you’re the ugliest guy.” It hurt me to hear it…I could just imagine the pain my mother felt. Enough incidents like that and my mother believed it. That’s why on many occasions I heard her refer to herself as a ‘plain Jane’. It didn’t help that the first older guy that showed interest in her got her pregnant and left her for another woman a couple of years later, never having married her. The summer between high school and college was the most important one for me. I spent almost all of it with my best friend Rob. We’d been close for four years and since he was going to an out of state college in the fall, we wanted to hang out as much as we could. What happened between my mother and me that summer just happened. There was no planning on my part and I’m sure none on my mother’s. The match that lit us off was a conversation, one that we’d had often but none ever ignited things the way that one did. She was feeling down and she had started taking pills and I was beginning to worry. She was going on about how it was impossible to find a good man and how if she was better looking maybe this and maybe that. That’s when she told me she was saving to have some cosmetic surgery and breast reduction. I was serious when I told her she was crazy. Then I just started running off at the mouth…I said everything that came into my head - most of it without thinking. I said, “First of all mom, men love tits…and yours are great.” She laughed and said, “No, these are too big for my body.” It wasn’t the first time I’d looked at the rounded forms but somehow they seemed so full and so beautifully shaped I felt stiffening between my legs. I said, “Take my word for it, they’re great…even I get a charge out of them.” She laughed again and said, “Go on…you’re so full of bull.” I said, “Believe me I’ve heard enough guys make remarks about them and…do you remember the first time Rob came over here and you came up to see what all the yelling was about?” My mother didn’t remember the incident but I told her, “We were talking about girls and who was hot and Rob said that you had a great pair of tits. I got mad and stated screaming at him and I was about to start swinging when he said, ‘what are you getting so mad about…I’m not saying anything bad about your mother am I?’ I stopped and realized he was right and then I agreed with him. We laughed about that for years. Anyway, believe me you look good and besides if a guy is only interested in you for the way you look what the hell do you have? You’re great to be around and I think you’re a terrific person too. Mom, you’re more than enough for any man and any man would be proud to have you…I know I would.” She was touched and got serious. She got up and kissed me. “Thank you baby…you make me feel better…but men want to go to bed with…better looking women.” I was looking directly into the warmth of her chocolate brown eyes and I tell you I didn’t know that I was going to say, “Mom I’m a man and I want to go to bed with you.” “What are you saying baby…you shouldn’t say things like…event to make me feel good…how could you…?” I was stimulated and just ran on, “I don’t know how I could but I’m looking at your pretty mouth and I want to kiss it and I’m looking at your beautiful breasts and I want to hold them and I’m thinking about what you would look like lying in bed…and I want to be there with you…inside you…” There couldn’t be much doubt about what I was saying and my mother’s jaw dropped and she said so slowly, “Oh…my…God…” My initial urges were to make her feel good and now my urges included wanting to make me feel good. She was still in shock when I began kissing her and I thought I would explode when she kissed me back. I took her to the bedroom and she was almost sleepwalking. I ran my hands across her full breasts and unbuttoned the top of her dress. I reached into the bra and touched her nipples, which felt quite large. My mother knew what was coming because she said almost drunkenly, “Maybe I should take a shower or put some makeup on.” I laughed and said, “Mom you look perfect and you smell perfect…what we’re going to do is going to make us both a lot messier.” She looked at me blankly and I whispered in her ear, “We’re going to fuck mom…right now.” It was as if I were speaking a foreign language. She said, “You’re going to fuck me…you’re going to fuck me.” I said, “Yes mom…I’m going to fuck you…everywhere.” I touched her mouth and then I touched her pussy over the dress. She flinched a bit and then I reached back and took a handful of my mother’s thick ass. “Everywhere.” I repeated. I kissed her as I removed her bra and saw the big nipples for the first time; they fit her large breasts perfectly. I took one heavy breast in my hand and sucked on the end of it. I took off her dress and just took in the sight of my almost nude mother. She may not be asked to pose for playboy but without her clothes on, she looked good enough to make my cock hard as a pole. I could see her dark bush through the panties and her ass looked sexy enough to make me reach in to stroke it…and fondle it…and then finger it. My mother responded with her eyes closed, either moaning or mumbling; I couldn’t tell which. I left her in her stockings and heels because she looked so good. She seemed to need direction so I took out my cock and told her, “Mom I want you to suck my cock.” She hesitated uncomprehendingly and I stroked her breasts and gently said, “Momma, your son needs his beautiful mother to suck him.” She said, “Yes honey, I will…I will.” She went down on her knees before me and took my cock into her mouth. No one could convince me that I didn’t have the most beautiful mother in the word at that moment. I told her so and she sucked me harder and with more emotion. I wanted her pussy before I came so I told her stop and get on the bed. She did and as she spread her legs awaiting my first insertion she said, “Tommy honey, do you really find me pretty…and desirable…you could tell me…I won’t stop.” I said, “Mom, do you see this?” I held my hard cock for her to see. “You’re an exciting woman…your body is all a man could want…and yes I really think you’re pretty.” I kissed her as my cock approached the one pussy I never expected to be in. My mother took my cock in hand and guided it to her wet hole. The first entry caused us both to catch our breath. My mother said, “God, you’re inside me aren’t you baby…you’re…in me.” “Yes mom, I am…I’m fucking my pretty mother…and it feels better than anything; does it feel good to you mom?” “Oh yes sweetheart…it feels wonderful…wonderful to have my son in my pussy…being a man for me…yes baby…you’re my man…hard for me…fucking me…oh…oh…oh…” I felt like her man and I was proud of it; and I felt like I had a woman instead of a girl for the first time. I continued stroking into my mother’s pussy and she responded with gyrating hips and moaning that gave me almost as much pleasure as the fact that my cock was riding along the wet walls of her vagina, and that she wanted me there. I scooped the big tits like cones and sucked their swollen tips. I had been with four girls in high school and I told my mother that she was the best I ever had…and I meant it. She seemed to respond to my loving words almost as much as to the insertions that spread the lips of her pussy and filled the channel that held my pulsing cock in it’s grip. When I thought that my mother was about to come, I lifted her legs by the ankles and started pumping in short hard bursts and she let out a long high pitched, “OHHhhhhh yes…God yes…make me…come…oh…come…” I released the first volley into her pussy and as she felt my cum filling her, I could feel her pussy clench at my cock. I thought I was finishing but her clasping pussy made me shoot another intense spurt that felt like the initial orgasmic release. I never expected to have any kind of sex with my mother let alone great sex. When she finished she put her head on my chest and she covered my cock with her hand and said, “It was so good Tommy…so good.” We slept in the same bed and in the middle of night I was awakened by her kisses, She apologized for waking me but she said, “I felt so good feeling you naked against me that I had to kiss you. Oh honey let me make you feel good…like you made me feel.” As she went under the sheet I told her, “Mom believe me, I felt every bit as good as you did.” She didn’t respond because by then she had my cock in her mouth. I don’t know if I had a hard-on before she started but she had a mouthful of it by then. I took the sheet off to watch as she held my cock with a few fingers on my balls and the others on the base of my cock. She was bobbing on the knob and the top of the shaft when she stopped to ask me, “Does that feel good honey?” I assured her that nothing could feel better than my lovely mother’s mouth on me and she went back to my cock with a smile. Her tit felt good on my thigh and I reached to get my hand on her ass. I slipped a finger between the full globes and I heard her murmur on my shaft. I worked my finger in as she sucked and licked me toward satisfaction. My mother didn’t know what to do when I came because as she told me later, no one had come in her mouth before. It was a mess. She swallowed some and the rest got all over everything. She apologized and I laughed telling her it was wonderful. That night was the first of many that would make up quite an eventful and life-changing summer. We made love as much as we could. She worked full time and Rob and I had part time jobs at the mall. On the weekends we all went to the beach together. After a few weeks Rob asked me what was going on. He said something seemed strange when we all went out. I was dying to tell him anyway and I said, “I had sex with her.” Rob’s eyes bugged out and he stood open-mouthed, “Who...not with…?” “That’s right,” I said. “We did it…and we do it.” “Get the fuck out of here…” He looked at me and saw that I was serious and then he said, “Oh shit, you really did…what…when…so tell me how’d it happen…how was it?” I told him the story and he was hungry for all the details; he wanted to know if her tits were as good as they looked. I told him they were better and he laughed uproariously. After that day I could see him looking at my mother ‘differently’ and he never passed up an opportunity to compliment her. I didn’t mind; I thought it was funny to watch him get hot whenever we were all together. I teased him about it all the time. Over the next four or five weeks my mom and I really got to know each other sexually. We learned each other’s pleasures and we were comfortable asking each for anything. You can imagine what it was like for a guy my age to have pussy available any time of the day or night…and my mom didn’t seem to mind. When the last two weeks of summer approached, mom had a vacation coming and Rob and I decided to quit work so we could have a ‘last blast’. We all went to beach every sunny day; we went to the movies and the mall when it wasn’t a beach day. I remember the date, it was August 20th and it was Rob’s birthday. We made a party for ourselves and we were drinking and laughing into the night. Mom gave Rob his present and when he opened it he saw a sweater. We were all pretty stoned and I said, “I know what Rob really wants mom…is your tits…that’s all he ever talks about.” We all laughed and mom said, “Oh stop it…” I said, “No really mom, he’s crazy about you…them…” Mom said, “Don’t tease him…he’s not interested in an old lady.” Rob finally said something. “You’re not old Janine…you’re…great…” It got quiet and I went over to mom and started unbuttoning her blouse. She didn’t stop me. When her bra came off Rob said, “Wow” and I signaled him over. He looked at me and I shook my head ‘yes’. Rob took my mother’s tits in his hand and started sucking on her nipples. I said, “Happy birthday, buddy.” He couldn’t get enough. He ate those tits like it was his last meal. By the sounds he made I thought he would come without being touched. When he finally slowed I said, “Come on guys let’s take this into the bedroom.” I was picturing all kinds of combinations, mom taking us both on at once and Rob and I filling all her holes in some way or another. Mom was drunk but not stupid. She came up to me and said, “Look honey, if you want this…I’ll do it for you…we can play around, but Rob can’t be inside me…I’m serious.” I said okay even though it didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time. I would be grateful later on that my mother was smarter than I was. Rob and I stripped my mother nude and both of us touched her all over. Rob told her she was beautiful and she kissed him. I went down and sucked on her pussy as rob played with her tits. When I thought it was time to switch, mom stopped Rob from sucking her. I didn’t think she’d draw the line there but I told Rob the rules mom had laid down. I’m sure he would have loved to fuck her but he was okay with her hands on him. Rob and I took our clothes off and mom and Rob sat on the edge of the bed. She took his cock in her hand and rubbed his already stiffened rod into a full erection. He went back to her tits as she jerked him. I gave her mouth my cock. I heard Rob say, “Oh man…” as he watched my mother expertly sucking, licking and taking my cock down her throat. We had come a long way since the first time I was in her mouth. That went on for a while and then I got the greatest urge for her ass. I pulled out of her mouth and got the lubrication that was always handy on the night table. I asked my mom to stand and I urged her to bend over the bed. She leaned on one elbow and took Rob’s cock back into her other hand. Her inviting ass was spread and I directed the head of my cock to the hole I had been fucking for weeks. She grunted as I entered her and I pushed half my dick up into the tight chute. It always amazed me that her asshole could stretch as far as it did around my cock. I held her meaty globes in my hands and opened and closed them over my cock as I worked my way in and out of my mother’s ass. Rob was getting close to coming as my mother pumped him while taking me deeper and deeper into her ass. He was getting louder as he urged both my mother and me on. “Oh yeah Janine…yeah…jerk me…yeah…fuck her Tommy…fuck your mother’s ass…fuck her…fuck her.” I knew he was about to come when he started rambling, “Yeah fuck her...like I’m gonna fuck my mother…in her pussy…in her ass…in her mouth…OH fuck oh…” I had slowed down and mom massaged his cock until he finished coming. I laughed to myself that he had as much chance of fucking his straight-laced mother as Anna Nicole had of becoming the Queen of England. He sat back exhausted and happy as I returned to giving it to my mother. She had two hands on the bed now and could return my thrusts with the rhythm we had learned together. We alternated for a while. I would give her the full length of my cock and pull back slowly until only the head stayed in her. Then I would stand still and my mother would push back taking as much of the cock into her as she could. She’d move her ass around when I was in up to the hilt and often moan as the stretch reached its limit. Meanwhile Rob had recovered and was jerking himself as he watched my mother and me going at it. We gave him a good show but that wasn’t our intention. We were both into it and I then held her hips and began pumping in earnest. My mother didn’t usually come without touching herself when I took her in the ass but the sounds she was making were those she always made when she approached orgasm. It was an almost crying sound that escaped her closed mouth. It was then followed by an exhortation to me, “Tommy…Tommy…fuck me…fuck me…fuck me…” As I gave her all I had and starting shooting cum into her ass, that was exactly what she did and said. When we finished she kissed me, and then sort of covered herself with her arms as she took her clothes and left the room. I could see she was a little embarrassed. I figured that having Rob join us was probably a one-time thing, and that was fine with me. Rob and I talked a bit and he said sort of sadly, “You know Tommy, you’re lucky…I know that even though my mom is single and hasn’t gone out in years, she would never let me…I think your mom really loves you.” Later I would find it strange that the words came from Rob and not from me. When he left he went over to my mom and told her she was beautiful and special. She said, “Thank you Rob…but do something for me honey…please don’t talk about …” Rob interrupted her and said, “Don’t worry Janine, this night was just for the three of us…I promise…nobody’s going to hear about it.” She believed him and gave him a little kiss as he left. For days after that I thought about the sentence, ‘I think your mom really loves you.’ What began, as sex just for the thrill of it, had become something more. I knew that my mom really did love me…and I loved her. I loved her as a mother, as a person, and as a lover. The last week of that summer was the beginning of a relationship that grew into the most important thing in both of our lives. My mom is thirty -nine today and I’m twenty-two. I couldn’t imagine the last four years without her. I’m graduating college and I’m looking forward to the summer and our life together. But that last night of summer four years ago, the last night before she went back to work and I would start school, will always be fresh in my memory. I held her and told her I loved her, not only because of what she did for me but because of who she was. She got teary and I asked her to take her clothes off for me. I watched as my mother stripped and exposed all the loveliness I had come to adore. I kissed her skin from her belly to her breasts and licked her nipples until they stood out. I asked her to strip me and as she did she kissed everything she exposed. I took her to bed and began to gently make love to her. I slowly pushed my cock in and out of the wetness between her legs and she whispered in reverie, “I love you so much my dear, dear Tommy…my man…I wish I was prettier for you…so you wouldn’t get tired of this ‘Plain Jane’ you have…and be with me always…” I stopped stroking and stayed inside her. I said, “Mom I never want to hear you say that again…I’m telling you…that’s not who you are…and you are what I want. You’re my beautiful Janine and that’s what you’re going to call yourself. Say it mom, say I’m beautiful Janine…I’m Tommy’s beautiful Janine.” I kept it up until she began saying it. The tears rolled off her face as she said, “I’m beautiful Janine…I’m Tommy’s beautiful Janine…I’m beautiful Janine…” I made her keep repeating it as I started moving back and forth into her pussy again. She said it until her first orgasm, which came quicker than usual. Plain Jane The time had come for a roommate. Whether it the cost of rent, food and the other bills that created this panic or maybe the cost of being alone in the house for too long past due, this was a problem only clearing the spare room could fix. Excitement, but agitation ruled the day-- masturbation on the couch was definitely on a permanent hiatus. Or maybe not, if I am careful enough. Quiet enough. A well planned session perhaps. The roommate is necessary to consider too; a poor sleeper and the whole gig is off. But why these thoughts at a time like this? What do you say to the prospective renter...do you sleep soundly or wake easily? Oh, you know if I decide to twist one off, I wouldn't want to wake you. No, that was madness. Get a grip and deal with the realities of single yet rent sharing situation. A motley crew of drifters, strangers, and other weird tourists wandered through the obligatory house tour before Jane arrived. Jane was not her name but she had to be Jane to me. Jane was...well, plain. Plain Jane. Not absurdly beautiful or ugly. Not voluptuous or boyish. A Real Woman. Plain or not, I still watched her breasts sway back and forth, to and fro as she took the tour. I eyed her pants, watching her butt cheeks gently rise and fall as she looked over the spare room. Her walk...her walk was the thing: That confident stride, a natural motion that said "Here I am and this is the way my body moves. No offense but deal with it." As though she were naked in her house alone on a liberation kick. This well may have been the case in the not to recent past. Jane told me that she used to live alone but also found the cost unbearable. I felt this would work out. Plain Jane and Plain Shane. Maybe not even our real names but it should have been. A conspiracy against the beautiful and perfect. A shining moment of unity where the Plain rise to the dizzying heights of Normalcy with the Perfects. The beautiful. The Not-So-Plain. Jane moved in and quickly made herself at home. Literally. I mean some people cordon themselves off to their rooms, understanding that the previous resident has already marked his territory. They don't leave their magazines lying around, introduce strange cuisines to the refrigerator or surgically attach the remote to their right hand. And they sure as hell don't lie around in a short nightie and panties during their free time. Still, I was too amazed to comment, too aroused to complain. Mi couch es tu couch, Jane. But she was completely above board though. No sneaky pinches of the nipples or rubbing of the knees. Real PG-13. There are no clothes like invisible clothes. Gratefully, she didn't mine my presence in this state but this first time was almost too much. It came on like a flash, a signal that I recognized but not in my ordinary "hanging out with girls" proper existence. This frequency, sent by my brain to my now stiffening receiver rod, was increasing in intensity as I considered Jane's near nudity. I sat in her Lazyboy about as causally as a senior with a bad bladder betrayed by my increasingly hardening cock. Et tu, penis? But enough of this after lunch science class moment. It would show soon... something must be done. Casually she asked if I wanted to watch anything. I choked as I tried to control my surprised laughter. Besides studying your naked, spread eagle body on my couch...well, what's on Fox? I wanted to devour that possible nymph lying on the couch in total comfort. I was starting to hallucinate her hand slipping below the thin elastic band in those Plain white cotton panties when I heard a voice say "No, that's ok. Watch whatever you want. I have to go to bed soon." 30 seconds or my cock is going to explode in my sweats. Or I am going to explode in sweat, leaving nothing but my rock hard cock, spinning like some perverse top. Whichever comes/cums first. Staggering, limping. Must reach the safety of the room and relieve this terrible, wonderful burden. My throbbing penis is screaming for caressing. Fondling. Pleasure and release. Gratify this throbbing, urgent hardness. There is no choice. No option for the Horny. Even the Plain must be human. Pull and release. I fell on the bed and slipped off my sweat pants and musty junk bra to reveal its hard heat to the cool evening air. Confusion and horniness overwhelming all senses; I wanted to feel the intensity of orgasm but still prolong the pleasure. Stroking and teasing my way to oblivion. All things in life should be as amazing as stroking my grateful pleasure pole. Five minutes pass. Ten. Twenty. Thiarrrgh!......Blindness. The white light. Nothing. Everything. The Moment of Truth spurting forth in white gobs. Gratification. Sexual feelings are also lost in the stream of ejaculate. Jane is temporarily forgotten as refractory starts. Shame and dejection. Must clean up my mess. Must feel clean again but can't. Not yet. It is too soon after to feel clean. Not long after clean up, a knock penetrates the empty room. The timing is perfect; it is as though she waited until I was done, cleaned and secure before intruding. Plain Jane is Perfect Jane. Not in the shallow physical beauty monster way. In the Real Way. Enter my room. Come inside and find me. Take me. Love me. "Yes?" Jane is asking me if she can borrow the car tomorrow. Hers is in the shop and she needs to leave early. So early that she couldn't wait until morning. Request granted but what of the timing? Had she heard? Did she know? Could she possibly know? The thought that she was more like me than not refused to occur; blocked by the baggage of a thousand sexless women. No, she could not have heard. She would not think such things. Naw. I felt so foolish. I was alone with my fantasy again. But only until I heard the low moans and the sound of limbs flailing on my way to the bathroom. Plain Jane. Human Jane. Human Jane who likes to rub herself off. Or using a dildo. Definitely not a vibrator. Unless it were under the covers, muffling the sound. No, there were no covers. I couldn't see it but I knew it. No, Jane would not cover herself. That would be admitting shame. And Jane had no Shame. Shameless Jane. It was then that I loved Jane. Needed her and understood her. We would be united in Plainness and the utter human need to get off. The next Sexual revolution. The Plain Revolution. I waited and listened. It was wrong but refractory was over. Horniness crept back through my very pores and the Need once more grabbed the wheel. Wrong for so many reasons yet right for the strongest. The lead wolf, fighting off the pretenders to the throne. Walk away. Please God let me walk away. This would not be difficult to explain to the authorities I figured. Really officer, I wanted to walk away, I did. But it was a cock thing. You understand, right? No, I would go to Perverts prison for this. Definitely to take the short trip down the long hall. Unlike this long trip down a short hall. Where is my damned room? I was moving but in the wrong direction. The moth to the flame. My hand to my cock. No, no, no! Yes...hardness at hand and pleasure washed over me again. Quiet, quiet, quiet. The noise from inside is growing in intensity. Her thoughts screamed out of the speakers in her mind, creating a new scene of shape and form. Lying on her bed gratifying her pleasure center...wet, glistening and absorbed into the private act. She was so turned on from spying on me that relief had to come. Thoughts climbing the erotic ladder. Had to Come. Had to Cum...soon. Sooner and higher. The balloon would burst and what would he think of me then? I can't be quiet...must cum and cum hard. Stuttering and losing all control, sense. Tension and release. And then it was time. A muffled cry. A final call for pleasure and gratification. Oblivion. Jane was cumming up a storm and flopping around like a fish on dry land. Flailing Jane. Still she held back. I could just tell she held back, just a little. Afraid of giving too much and totally giving in to the feeling. Afraid of what Plain Shane would think of her, as she herself the pleasure she desperately desired. Wanted. Needed. Demanded. I was too close to run but I was too ashamed to cum. This was too intimate, too risky. Must stagger to the bathroom. Must make it before it is too late. But it may already be too late. I was able to escape to the sanctuary of the bathroom sink but how long could I maintain? How long before my Truth knocks on her door like an unwelcome white wash? Or she fails in the ruse. Can't tickle that clit and be quiet enough everytime. What happens when she goes over the edge and I find her on my door, panting and convulsing? This situation will require care and handling. After clean-up of course. Morning came knocking unusually loud that morning. I held off on my usual morning "cockercise" given the extensive workout the night before. Good to her word, Jane was gone before I got out of bed. An exciting morning of coffee, donuts, and maybe even work awaited me. Or maybe not. You see, I simply had to know. I needed it. Like a drug. The Fix. You see officer, I needed to invade her privacy and sneak into her lair under the cover of borrowing my car. Yep, another cock thing, how'd you guess officer? No, I would not do this thing. I will take a long cold shower, maybe pull one off and leave it at that. In theory. The shower was cold, the orgasm weak, and I still needed to know. Now. Her room opened up to plush furniture and lacy fabric. She like soft, nice things but kept her space out of view from the outside world with partially closed dark curtains. Like I would. However this morning, Plain Jane had Plain Porn all over the room. Books, magazines, and the occasional DVD. Women's erotica. Men's erotica. Sexual promise on every shelf. I wondered somewhat clinically if she worked in the sex industry. Yeah that's it: Dehumanize her so that the intrusion can be justified. No, I would not disrespect her further. Just because she was horny sometimes and she knew what she liked. There was no distance too far to reach that conclusion. Those naughty panties were now bunched up by her bed, too lazy for the hamper. Enough control not to give into my depravity of sniffing the object in question. No, I was not a panty sniffing pervert. Maybe I would try on her stockings but that was the limit. Stretching on her bed, I looked up at my mirror image. Funny, I don't remember mounting a mirror on this ceiling. But what of the toys and hidden bonuses that lay waiting to be found? They would not be in plain view but not far enough that one couldn't reach it from the bed. Shelf by the nightstand: Check. Sure enough, a harmless, sexless collection of personal items and knick knacks. Wait...what is that box off to the side? A velvety box that was shaped like a little coffin. Maybe it was a vampire vibrator that could not be exposed to light. I would never be able to explain why her favorite toy was turned to dust. Better close the curtains more for the unveiling. I carefully opened the box, half expecting something to fly out. The inside also looked like a little coffin but the contents were not supernatural. A dildo of specific size and shape came into view. I would not say it was abnormally large but it was clear that it was a perfect fit into the box. Definitely a custom job. This was really too much. The compulsion to masturbate on her bed was overwhelming but limits had to be maintained. Back goes the dildo. Back goes the box. Back I go to the bathroom for relief. It was going to be hard to complete this time. My penis looked up at me as if to say "You have got to be fucking kidding me! Take a rest horny boy!" The dong was right. Save myself for later. Take a nap, read a book. Write a letter to my congressman. Anything to keep my mind off that damn box. Jane came home at a Plain Time and settled in for the night. It was Friday night, which is a big night for the Perfect Beautiful, but rarely for Plain Shanes and Plain Janes. Who's getting kicked off the island, indeed. Prior to settling down for my night of televised death, I offered Jane a portion of my pizza. A guilty payoff for invading her privacy I thought cynically. No, I offered her food because...well, it seemed the decent thing to do. I'll even warm it up while she changes. I stayed content with my own generosity for the first 129 seconds. Then it hit me over the head like our rarely used skillet: The Fucking Curtains! I had closed them totally and they were clearly half open when she left them. Oh well. I might as well enjoy freedom while it lasted. I didn't have any use for my anal virginity anyway. Jane came back into the room dressed in her now typical "I'm still living alone at home look." She was smiling but said nothing as she ate my pizza. She Knew! She knew and yet said nothing. We were entering new territory yet still keeping appearances I see. I looked for a remote place on the couch to disappear into. Failure. Regret. Rapidly disappearing pizza. There is no escape for the wicked. No sanctuary for the perverse. I would have to face the music and confess my sins. Fear was engulfing me yet I felt strangely aroused. The terror of confession was making my cock twitch. Just what I need: Frankenstein's Fucking Monster coming to life, rising up out of my pants as I tried to explain why I was snooping around her porno nest. She sat across from me and exhaled heavily. It was a good meal and she was letting it all hang out I thought. No sign of needing to talk to me. This is good...maybe my offense was so great she didn't know how to bring it up. Or maybe I am out of my mind with paranoia and she didn't have a clue about my situation. Either way, she asked causally what was on. She's letting me off! But why? She had me and she is letting me go. And she knows it. Deep down she knows it and will make me pay in this fashion. I would not doubt if she understood that the gauntlets were off and soon my own room would be another casualty of our Horny Crusade. Fuck it...I'll even leave my best magazines out for her. Maybe we can swap and compare stories. Sure, this could work out just fine. Smoothed over with mindless television, we drifted our separate spaced out ways. Jane noticed my position and commented that I looked a little tense. Had I had a hard day? Did members of my family die? Was I losing my Fucking mind? It was obvious that she wanted to help me if she could so I let her in a little bit. I told her about the insomnia. The dance of deadlines threatening to evict me. The cancer sticks. The Life. She came over to the couch and offered to massage my shoulders. I let her. Plain Jane, Nurse Jane. She told me that all people really need in this world was love and acceptance. That and a little head. There was a twinkle in her eye and a slight smile on her face when I turned around. I loved her and I wanted to kiss her then. But I let the moment pass. I was still afraid, still ashamed. I just back around and leaned back against her, laying on her. I expected her to stop me but she didn't. She looked away while gently stroking my hair. It was impossible to believe but somehow she simply knew I just needed to be held. Loved. I had had enough of cliff diving into the blackness of would she or wouldn't she love me. Would she or wouldn't she accept me. The Perfect Beautiful do not understand this. They are so wanted and admired that the thought that someone might be repulsed by their appearance is impossible. Unthinkable. But Plain Jane knew better. She knew I was human and had needs. I prayed that I would realize the same of her before it was too late. Darkness now. How had we been in this position her and I? A tangle of limbs and breathing. Jane was asleep and I had unceremoniously used one of her T-shirted yet un-bra'd breasts as a pillow after passing out. I thought to wipe the drool from my impromptu pillow but did not want to wake her. But maybe if I was very careful... I took the edge of my shirt and softly rubbed the now damp spot. Jane gave a little moan and shifted; this might not work. The buds of her nipples hardened and poked through the fabric making an unmistakable impression. I stopped wiping and thought to escape but her legs were crossed around the ankles over my own. Trapped between fiery thighs and hard nipples. Maybe I died and I am in heaven after all. I marveled at her smooth and oh so silky legs shining in the moonlight. I ran a finger down the side of one and then the other...each reacting and craving the touch. It was as if the flesh was magnetized to my fingers, springing forth for touch and comfort. More moaning and shifting. Toes curling ever so slightly. I wondered what it would be like to give her a foot massage. Her skin was hot to the touch from arousal and even her feet would demand touch. I would move my fingers between each toe and gently massage the fleshy digit and space between. She would lose it fast, grunting and moaning while rubbing her aching hard nipples in earnest. Speaking of hard, my cock was the hardest I had ever felt. I thought it would explode on its own, without even the slightest caress. When it didn't, I was drawn back to her nipples again. Staring at the water in the oasis. But our peace would be broken. I thought she looked peaceful sleeping and looked up to catch another glimpse of this scene. However, I had not noticed that in the middle of my Nipplefest, she had awoken and was fascinated by the sudden interest I had taking in her naked body. Still, now is not the time to stop caressing her legs. I had been caught and I had to pay the piper. We had this moment where I was looking at her looking at me then we both looked at her nipples and then back at each other. I thought of something to say or do that could possibly begin to explain the absurdity of this moment. From my head to her ears, Jane threw back her head and laughed. We both laughed. Our laughing slowed down and she gave me a big hug. But what next? Jane got up and shoved a hand to my chest. Apparently, she wanted me to lie down. I started to speak but her finger quickly brushed my lips. Slowly shaking her head...maybe we were past words. A flash of fabric later and she is fully nude and straddling my body. After kissing, caressing, and taking off my shirt in one twisted motion, Jane took my right hand and placed it on her nearest breast. It was warm, sweaty and firm. Young Jane. Kneading her nipples and massaging both now, began to kiss and stroke her body when her hand came back to my chest. She gently pushed me down and I settled back into the couch. She was definitely in control here. Jane's smiling face lowered to the front of my sweatpants, which were pulled down. My aching phallus had broken out of its cage and sought the touch of its new mistress. Jane licked and kissed my balls as she ran one hand over my dong in a slow jerking motion. She was doing nothing but containing the beast; she would eventually have to either let him go or take him to paradise. Gratefully she opted for the latter, shoving my whole cock in her mouth in an almost professional display. But she was slow and careful once inside. This was a woman who takes her time and does it right. The intensity made it like a minor electrocution where I was being given a regular dosage of pleasure. It will not be long before I either blow or fry. Jane felt me tense up and stopped playing with me. She looked at me with some gravity and I gave her a slight nod. With that, Jane eased herself in and started to Fuck me. Cowgirl Jane. She was moaning and panting while screwing up her face with an expression that may have been pain or pleasure. She grabbed one hand and pulled it downtown in a cry for more stimulation. I stroked the outer lips and started to rub around her exposed clit. Starting outside and working my way in, I took one finger and ran it over the sensitive member with the slightest of touch and intensity. Slowly increasing my tempo, she started to pant and moan loudly now. This was the real Jane approaching takeoff, not that muted form in the bed last night. Right over the edge she went as violent little death throes caused her body to reverberate as the rapture of her convulsions began. This was the Real Orgasm from Real Jane and there sure wasn't anything Plain about it. Plain Jane Jane's orgasm was too much as she spiraled out of control on top of me. My world disappeared and over the edge I went. Convulsing and grunting like an animal, our spasms overlapped and met in the middle. We were one quivering muscle, flexing and releasing over and over again. Too animal to do anything but pant and lay, I regained my senses with Jane lying on top of me. By chance I was looking at her breast and again she was looking at me. She just shook her head and put my other hand on her breast. Plain Jane Call me Plain Jane. My name's not Jane, but it'll do. I've been plain as long as I can remember. People don't look at me twice. I never got asked out, never went to a prom. I'm sure I was never the subject of some Teen Dream's erotic nocturnal fantasy. It's not as if I'm ugly; I'm not. I'm just kind of average looking. Oh yes, and shy. Painfully shy. Shyness is basically the reason I was there in the first place on a sultry night in June, instead of out at a bar or a club or some party. No, I was sitting on a bench by the rail trail facing the river, getting all damp and sweaty reading a book of short erotic stories all by myself. My roommate had friends over, and they were all loud and exuberant. I was getting my jollies by squeezing my thighs together underneath my skirt. Later on, when I went home and showered and went to bed, I would ride my vibrator like a wild stallion and watch videos with the sound turned all the way down of muscle bound men sucking dick and fucking each other in the ass. For now, I just enjoyed the feeling of being turned on, relishing the anticipation. When he jogged by, I looked up and set my book in my lap, pretending to be reading something serious and non-smutty. He was beautiful. There weren't many joggers out this evening. It was hot, and getting late. He was tall and slender and ripped. He didn't look like a marathoner—too many muscles; or a jogger out to win the battle of the bulge—there wasn't any bulge. (Not at the waistline anyway; there was a promising looking package in the front of his sheer nylon shorts.) Maybe he was a triathlete, or a rock climber. He was my age, or a little younger. He had short, crew cut hair, and he was covered in sweat, but he ran easily, beautifully, without any apparent effort. He reminded me of a wolf; not the cartoon stereotype, but of a wolf I had once seen at nature preserve: Highly intelligent, totally functional, utterly wild. I would think of him later on. Not too much later; the midsummer sky was getting dark, and it was getting hard to read. He passed me again as I was walking back toward the apartment, and I got to admire him from behind. Strong calves, long legs, tight little ass. Some kind of tattoo peeking out from the collar of his shirt. His lucky girlfriend. I wondered if he fucked her in the ass. Thunder had been rumbling in the distance, and flashes of lightening just over the horizon. A storm was coming in. I felt a breath of cool as a strong gust of wind came up. Seconds later, fat drops of rain started pelting the dusty path around me. I ran to the pavilion, a wooden structure with a roof, four picnic tables and no walls. I ducked into the shelter just as the storm broke. Lightening flashed and thunder crashed, and the rain poured down in sheets. It had come on so fast, I hoped it would move on just as quickly. Until then, all I could do was wait. I'm not an especially nervous type, but being female, alone in the park after dark, and stuck in the shelter made me feel vulnerable and just a little scared. He came in out of the rain. He was drenched. His t-shirt was transparent and stuck to his skin. His shoes were muddy. His nylon shorts left little to the imagination. He flashed me a wicked grin that lit up his eyes, and sat down on the table next to me, where he began prying off his soaking wet running shoes. I was tongue tied. I felt like I should say something to this man who was now so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "It's raining, huh?" "Nice weather we're having, eh?" "My name is Andrea, and I'm super horny. Wanna fuck?" No, no no. I kept my trap shut, and felt myself starting to blush. I almost jumped right out of my skin when I felt his hand on my knee. He had taken off his shoes, and layed them upside down on the concrete floor of the pavilion where a puddle had formed around them and was joining the little lake that had grown up from the water that had run off of us. He had placed his hand on my left knee, just as natural as could be. The jolt of electricity that passed between us almost stopped my heart. I felt my cunt swell and my nipples harden. My skirt rode up a little more, and my legs parted even as my face turned (I'm sure) a hitherto unknown shade of deep red. He wasn't looking at me. He removed his hand. My heart dropped like a stone in my chest. He pulled off his t-shirt, and I held my breath. He wrung it out and set it on the table next to us. His skin was pale, his muscles defined, his chest smooth, his nipples pierced with thick steel rings. He was kissing me fiercely as his hand explored the territory between my thighs. My skirt had ridden up to my waist, his arm was around me, his tongue was in my mouth. I wanted him dreadfully, painfully. I could plainly see the bulge in his running shorts. The thin wet material left not much to the imagination: I could practically see the individual veins of his engorged cock. His groping hand found my panties. Softly, tantazlingly, he traced the cleft of my pussy down the front of my underwear. My cunt was drooling, my clit singing. His fingers slipped under the elastic and my pussy felt the cool night wind on her naked flesh. With one strong, sudden motion, he tore the crotch out of my underwear. Another sure tug and he broke the waistband. He tossed them aside, concentrating on my naked sex. I was exposed as I never really had been before, totally open for his inspection. There was no security of a dark room or a sheet here; he could see anything and everything. And so could anyone who happened to come by. Outside our shelter, the rain was still coming down in buckets. I wanted him to fuck me right there on the table. I knew I didn't want to get pregnant or catch some disease, but Christ I wanted that cock inside me. It looked like it was about to split his running shorts. I wanted to tell him to put it into my mouth so he could fuck my face until he came. His fingers were exploring my pussy, and my legs were spread wide, wider. His fingers found their way up inside me, filling my need, driving me half mad with lust. My clit felt like a big ripe cherry. My cunt was soaking wet. He offered his slimy fingers to my mouth and I eagerly sucked my juice off of him, reveling in the sexiness of it all. His fingers were back inside me. He lowered his mouth to the place where I needed him so badly, and his tongue caressed, teased, tormented. He was kneeling on the bench in front of me now, my legs supported on his shoulders. I had extracted my tits from under my bra, and was tweaking my nipples in time with his squirming tongue. The thrusting fingers inside my pussy seemed to know just where to put pressure to drive me totally insane. I was going to come. I was going to come on this strange man's face as he licked my clit and finger banged me. I felt a finger probing between my ass cheeks, and I started to go off. I squirmed and wiggled, trying to give him more access, trying to get more of him into me. I felt his big finger (maybe two?) penetrate my asshole in a flaming jolt of sensation. Now he was fucking both my holes and licking my clit like a man possessed. I think I was crying aloud, shaking and writhing and coming hard all over his talented fingers and mouth. I don't know how long my orgasm lasted, but it seemed like forever. I realized that it had almost stopped raining. He was standing over me as I lay on top of the picnic table, skirt around my waist, pussy and tits hanging out for the world to see. He was looking into my eyes, stroking his long cock fast, faster. I reached out to take it in my hand, but he pushed me back. His hand was moving so fast it was a blur. His balls were a tight knot, the head of his penis outrageously purple. He came with a howl, squirting ropes of white hot semen all over my breasts. It seemed like gallons, it seemed like he would never stop coming. He never looked away from my eyes until he was done. And then he was gone: shorts up, shoes on, and jogging off into the night. I had to touch myself again, as I tasted his salty come and rubbed him into my nipples. Then I cleaned up and went home, where my vibrator and DVDs were waiting patiently for me. I would be waiting for him though, one night soon, on the park bench next to the river and the rail trail. Plain Jane The author would like to state that this is a work of fiction, and that all people places and events depicted herein are conjurations of my own imagination. I understand that whereas some readers might find this story dark, distasteful or even shocking in parts I hope that by persevering to the end that you will find yourself rewarded. Plain Jane Jane's day-job well provided for the 'bread and butter' of her life; her comfortable flat, the gourmet ready-meals she enjoyed so much and the occasional bottle of expensive wine. But her secret 'evening job' provided the 'jam', the expensive lingerie that felt so good adorning her near naked body, the ever more exotic sex toys that helped to bring her to the very pinnacle of orgasmic pleasure when she, so very often, engaged in auto-erotic stimulation. The props, costumes and sets; the high quality webcam, powerful computer and fast Internet access that she used for her 'shows'. Relentlessly time moves on. More and more protective shells Jane builds around herself; and further and further she pushes down the confused and frightened teenage girl of her former self that still that lived inside her. And the further down she pushed down her true self the more to the fore came to her addictive obsession. Jane had become addicted to masturbation or should I say the mechanically or digitally induced, reality blocking psychedelic firework display inducing, body quaking, screaming orgasmic highs she achieved from it. These were far more powerful highs than any of the chemically induced by expensive little packets of white powder, bought from frighteningly quiet snappily dressed mirror sunglasses wearing men who sat in expensive dark windowed cars outside certain pubs and clubs, highs that she had tried a few times. As with every true addict just one hit is never enough. With perseverance she could build herself up until she could achieve almost continuous, repetitive waves of overwhelming orgasmic shocks until her sweat soaked, quivering, ravaged body simply dropped from utter exhaustion. Most mornings, just to get her day started, before donning the mantel and demeanour of Plain Jane and shuffling off to her day-job. She would masturbate while sitting naked at her table and take a couple of orgasmic hits along with her breakfast coffee and cereal. Just occasionally on some mornings even this was not enough. On work days like that she would push a pair of ben-wa balls deep into her sopping, gaping, self-abused, ravaged vagina. Securely held in place under her sensible panties and hose and nestling snugly against her 'best friend in-all-the-world', her swollen, distended and sensitive clitoris, would be a discrete, remotely controlled butterfly vibrator. And even if that were not enough under her figure flattening sports bra her thick nipples would be tightly, painfully clamped with small but powerful steel clips. On days like that only the tightest grip of her cast iron self control could keep her demure Plain Jane demeanour in place whist at a touch of a button she could send jolts of orgasmic pleasure coursing through her body. On days like that she had to be sure to have a good supply of heavy-duty sanitary pads to hand to soak up the copious amounts of orgasmic juice that would gush forth almost on demand. It was supremely important that, on days like that, she should not show even the slightest sign of her secret obsessive pleasure whilst still appearing to be sitting quietly, normally working away at her job. Yet still, buried deeply beneath the depths of her masturbatory desires was the image of her beloved late father. Not that she desired to have had made love with her father, the very speculation of the merest hint of that thought made her feel sick to her core. But though all the protective shells she had built up around herself, the one, the one and only true pure thing she desired was to be loved. Unreservedly, unequivocally, un-demandingly innocently loved, in the way that her father had loved her, for her real self alone. Of her many cyber-lovers, especially her paying clients, none got close to the real Jane, they demanded their fantasies and that is what they received. Jane the wanton slut, the filthy whore and all those other horrible names her uncle had called her all those years ago, stepped up to give service to these men in what ever filthy degraded why they wanted. In whatever guise, costume, and alter ego she chose to use that day, the many-faced queen of cyber-sex ruled that particular sordid corner of the virtual world. But there appeared one, just one in-all-the-virtual-world, for her, different man; he didn't want to be her Master or Her slave. He didn't demand that she repeatedly play out his favourite masturbatory fantasy, he just wanted to be a friend. Slowly patiently over months, years, eventually via an exclusive, for-him-only Instant Messenger address; this one man chipped away at the many layers of Jane's protective shell. Revealing at last the poor hurt, frightened confused girl that still, after all this time, remained within her. He nurtured her, little by little gaining her hard won trust. Quietly listened while she poured forth her deepest most hurts and fears. Comforted her with soft words and the true concern of true deep held loving friendship. Finally they met face to face, at first as friends in a neutral, public, place of safety. Over the course of many such meetings, bit by bit Jane cast off her cloak of invisibility. She let this man into her life and then into her body. Their lovemaking was easy and unspectacular. But while basking in the afterglow of that pleasurable coupling, naked and comfortable in the warm embrace of Michael her real flesh-and-blood lover, Jane's mind went back again to the vision of that enchanting, soft, beautiful lovemaking of her parents she had seen as a child. At last she had found the joy of true love and she was content. Plain Jane & Nerd Jim Grow Up Two years passed since Jim and Jane had last spoken. He ended their final long distance telephone conversation, tears sliding out of both their eyes, with a shaky "Goodbye." They had resolved that distance was making their relationship expensive. Two hour conversations over thousands of miles. And it impeded their freedom. They were young and needed to be bold and go out into the world and take some chances. It wasn't real for them to be together anymore. They weren't together anymore. Their year and a half relationship had been warm and adventurous and sexy. By the end of their senior year they had trusted each other implicitly, which opened them up to all types of play, from the nearly religious experience of the most intimate embrace, love saturated passion, to the most perverse of positions and places to play and places to penetrate. During that year and a half, both blossomed into most attractive adults. Jane, with the help of her remarkable holistic gynecologist, Dr. Anderson, had lost the ugly duckling glasses and bent posture, and revealed her pretty face and her tall, graceful body. The remarkable metamorphosis occurred at the beginning of their relationship, and by its end her face and body had become smoother, more self-confident then ever through her study of modern dance as well as the consistent love she received from Jim. Jim, despite the nerd disguise, the uncool clothes and the big black framed glasses, was also gaining confidence in himself, and his big body and face became more defined, more attractive. Before their relationship, only Jane's mother seemed to give him props for his presence, his looks and his abilities. He never felt right talking to people, the conversations never flowed, except with her. By the end, both Jane and her mother were making him feel great about himself. And he found himself to be charming in nearly every situation he was in. The inner strength he found through his relationships with Jane via heart felt love, and her mother via deep friendship actually made him resilient. He found out how strong he was when faced with the end of his and Jane's wonderful relationship. Their love had never been severed except for the distance. Pure chance broke them apart, not a wish to be separated. He was staying home to go to University, and she was off at a dance school and at a college in Manhattan, NYC. And the post split remnants of their love settled deep into their consciousness. What the remnants became were expectations. His were eventually fulfilled. And more and more his Clark Kent vulnerability behind the black horn rimmed glasses presenting himself to the world as a nerd of limited sexual appeal was being shucked off for Superman, a young man of great strength and confidence. The scholarship he needed to supplement the cost of his classes kept him busy with the wrestling team at University, which kept his body in peak shape. Although twenty years difference in age separated him and his current lover, he felt great confidence in his relationship with her. Sometimes she was dominant, but he could dominate too. With their great respect for each other despite him being half her age, it all equaled out. Jane's attitude was Jim's opposite. She had become passive, vulnerable, accident prone. Her relationships became skirmishes. She would be fascinated by a young man, giving herself over to his seduction. She enjoyed sharing her chambers with him. She enjoyed the company. These young men seduced her, disrobed her, entered inside. It was a frenzy of discovery, discarding the outer layers of flirtation and courtship in order to find what was hidden. Blind passion. Naked hard young flesh daggers pointing to her to pierce her. She would guide each dagger inside. Each young man would pump his straining flesh against her and deep inside her where it popped, releasing the scalding brew. They would separate. He wasn't inside her. And they slept. It wasn't enough. If they stayed together, time would strain expectations. He wasn't there for her, but for his release. She was his repository. At least that's what she felt. So many of the young men just didn't care or want to care how she felt. She met men who fought her every move to communicate with them, to have them respond beyond the bedroom. She met men who she found wild and exciting but learned that though she may have been desirable at the start, ultimately she was to them a bag of flesh to be stabbed, kicked and shoved aside. She found herself in several abusive relationships, the most current one just ending after lasting over a year. It was two years to the night since Jane and Jim had their final phone conversation when Jim and his friend Harry stepped into the small Tribeca coffeehouse and saw Jane standing beside the stage clutching a manuscript against her chest. Jim remembered that chest, those big soft lovely breasts, the nipples he would tease with his tongue until they glowed in the candle light, a quarter inch long and taut. He remembered her breasts as pillows accommodating his cheeks as he nestled his face against her. He looked up into her eyes. She couldn't believe it was him. He looked handsome standing in the back of the coffeehouse staring at her. And here she was going to read her poems. She thought she'd been nervous before she saw him! She caught his smile like he had tossed it from deep inside. She smiled at him, and it all clicked. She stood at the podium, spread the poem before her and began to read. When she glanced from the page to give the line of poetry out to the public, she kept getting caught. His smile, his intense gaze, despite those thick glasses affixed to his nose, kept catching the drift of her eyes trying to spread her poem out to the whole audience. He could see she'd lost her posture. She was the most radiantly healthy when they'd said their good-byes, her flesh leaner, her movement more lithe and graceful. Her grace of movement was breathtaking. In the two years of separation, an invisible weight had taken its toll, and she didn't stand so tall anymore. Maturity kept her from returning to the full slouch her lack of self-worth had provided during her adolescence, but the effect was similar. She had become Plain Jane again. He could see she needed him. Not as a lover. She needed him for guidance. Her poetry was lovely and graceful. He loved the one in which two lovers in the park whispered to each other endearments, but instead of describing their partner's attributes, they described visions of the park. It was so lovely and graceful it broke his heart. He'd enjoyed the many private poetry readings in her bedroom, and her poetry had gotten better since she'd last recited to him. In fact he thought her poetry had reached the realm of greatness. He'd never been so lost in the visions she spoke. He felt that old love for her in his heart. Jim felt the full force of guilt. As the pangs of love lost and found came over him for the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, he knew he needed to have the strength to resist. It would be too complicated to return to an ongoing relationship. He couldn't open up to her completely, and their relationship had been built on honesty and trust. He retreated from her beautiful mind and returned to her damaged body. Along with her unhealthy posture, her eyes seemed distracted, not steady. Skittish. Afraid she would have to present herself. She'd slowly sunk herself into a self-deprecating morass. The past year had only thickened it. Frank. Jane should have seen it coming. It was a pattern. She should have seen it when she thought of where they had met. A bar. A meat market. It was where her crowd would hang out. The publishing crowd. A nice upper east side bar, with foliage and soft rock and soft stools on which to have found new company while leaning on the third drink. Frank had saddled up to Jane's empty stool halfway through the night. Her inebriation was just becoming apparent. She got louder and not in control, not reserved, which was more her character. The two new lovers played loose and free with glances, and arms would contact the other body via the large gestures they were using to talk. Accidentally on purpose sort of thing. The flirting game had begun in earnest. By the time the lights burned the late night dark bar patrons wide irises to announce it was time for them to leave, Frank and Jane's lips sucked their hard liquor and nicotine saturated tongues into each other's mouth. Frank stood in front of Jane's spread legs as she sat on her high stool, pushing his slowly ascending flesh snake against the responsive top of her pussy, the keystone to what he hoped would be its new snake hole. More than one patron was annoyed by the blatant display of affection. They needed to move on to private quarters to bare their desires. Arm in arm they leaned against each other, making the walk into the warm night a clumsy one. She only lived a couple blocks away, but found herself pulled into a cab by Frank. They raced past the sea of stragglers pouring onto the street who had been awaiting their turn for escape. As they bounced down Park Avenue for the ten or so miles to his place, they resumed their aggressive kissing. His strong hand held her breast. His thumb sought the nub through her clothes. Jane undid the top buttons of her blouse. His hand slid inside, under her bra cup and weighed and squeezed her full soft breast, fingers pulling and twisting her nipple. Intoxicated by his manipulations along with the several drinks, she rubbed her hand against the unfurling snake encumbered by cotton shorts. She solved this encumbrance by unzipping him and lifting his hot hard flesh out into the air of the back seat of the cab. She grabbed his hot snake and pulled and pulled and pulled, causing Frank's cock to gain maximum girth and extension. He groaned into her mouth. One hand still occupied by her breast, he slipped his other hand under her skirt, along her naked thigh. He rubbed his fingers along the slit he felt through her silk panties, then slipped under them to let his fingers explore her slippery depths. His thumb found the rising little bit of flesh above her slit and tapped it. She released her mouth from his and gave out a deep groan. With a sly, inebriated smile, she lowered her mouth until her lips kissed the purple helmet of his engorged dagger. She licked it and then impaled her mouth on it. Jane had learned from Jim's mighty club to take a cock deep into her throat. This one wasn't the depth finder of Jim's, so she hardly gagged when she took it all the way in. Her lips sliding firmly up and down, her tongue dancing around it, then her lips fucking it again gave him the exquisite friction he needed. His breath came quicker. He was giving her no warning of his imminent ejaculation, but she could tell. Her hand, gingerly tossing his balls in their sac, felt them tighten up, his dagger vibrated, and she felt the pulse of cum as it sprayed into her mouth. She swallowed what she could, a bitter, drunken brew, and let some of the sticky fluid drip onto his shorts. When the cab slowed to a stop, Jane quickly arose and buttoned up. Frank removed his hands from her breast and her cunny just as quickly if not quicker. In one motion he pushed the softening meat into his fly and zipped and slid his hand around to his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. The walleyed cab driver, hours into his shift, still managed a seamy smile as he took the money from the newly sapped man. Taking her hand, he dragged her up the stoop, through the door of the row house apartment building, up the dark stairs to the second floor. He struggled with his keys until, victorious despite Jane's incredibly sensuous licking of his ear, he turned the lock. Having closed and locked the door behind him, he pulled her into the dark bedroom where she fell on her back onto the all too narrow bed. He pushed her skirt up above her hips and her panties down over her shoes and proceeded to lick her into a frenzy. Her knees lifted high as she opened herself completely to him. Her pelvis rocked her pussy into his face. His two fingers slid deep inside and out of her pussy, while his tongue set to work along its lips down to the ridge between it and her asshole, circled around the crinkled little hole. The tongue reversed directions, slowly licking her labia and returning to the clit. As he teased and sucked her engorged morsel of flesh, she was reaching a crescendo. Her full sighs resonated in the small bed chamber, no longer needing to be quieted. Removing his fingers and tongue from her pleasure trough made her nearly cry. He quickly removed his clothing and joined her on the bed. His legs straddled her head. His limp worm dangled inches above her lips, and his balls brushed her forehead. When his fingers and tongue and lips returned to pleasing her pussy, she hummed with approval. She took his loose melted tube of flesh in her hand, pulling it to her tongue. It wouldn't grow. The snake was inert. Slowly the pleasure he was giving her below was tapering off. It stopped as he relaxed beside her, his breath steady on her thigh. He had passed out. So close. So close. Her last sigh was one of frustration. She succumbed to the alcohol in her kidneys, relieving herself in the adjacent bathroom. She made it back to his bed before the alcohol in her bloodstream took effect, and she passed out, too. Not a promising start, but things improved the next morning. When she awoke on the strange bed, she was greeted by a smiling face and a mug of hot coffee. The face was sagging from Frank's hangover, but it was still handsome. The long disheveled blond hair framed his face with a subtle golden aura. His eyes were large and blue, and even if the blue was in the middle of an off white with red threads, she enjoyed looking at them and into them. Something sad and hurt was in those eyes. Her sight was lost in his. She sat up on the bed to retrieve the hot bitter but tasty coffee. She sipped and stared and sipped and stared. They were discovering each other, taking in each other's facades and digging deeper. Were these eyes, still strange and new, worth getting to know? "You're very pretty," said Frank. His voice was quiet but still resonant like a stage whisper. There was surprise in it. "You too," said Jane with a soft smile. He laughed. She followed him to the kitchen. Her blouse was open and she was naked under her skirt when she sat at the cold metal card table that served as his kitchen table, slowly warming the cold metal chair. The tattered white terry robe he wore was open to his nakedness. They talked quietly, and as they talked there was a quiet sexiness in the air. Each would glance down to study what bit of nakedness escaped the indiscreet cloth. Soft rounded flesh and nipple. Harder flesh with a trace of hair leading down the firm abdomen to...They both enjoyed their views. But they mostly enjoyed their conversations. They spent hours over several cups of cooling coffee getting to know each other. Mostly Jane got to know Frank. Another clue she should have taken to heart. He was his most popular subject. But she found him exciting to know. Stimulating to the head, the heart and the loins. Perhaps to get his engines revved he asked her about her life. She told him she was going to be a junior studying literature if the publishing house she worked for would provide the support she needed. She entered their doors a little while before, as a receptionist, in hopes of getting full benefits from a work study program and of moving up in the business. She had wanted to study dance too, but not enough to starve. She wouldn't have time. Besides she didn't seem to like it and/or she wasn't so good at it anymore. Jane didn't want to take the conversation into uncomfortable territory, the territory of self-deprecation. So she swung it his way, and he took the hook. By the end of the conversation, two to three hours later, Frank had provided her with a complete autobiography. From a small city in Kentucky which he found suffocating in both the provincial aspects and the disastrous home life, he made enough trouble to be put into a parochial school back east. A good teacher became a mentor, encouraging his talent as a story writer. Once graduated and entering college he lived his life in the city while making passing grades. He was in search of adventures, of something to write about. He told Jane how much he loved the city and its extremes. He hung out with the bums and junkies, the lowest of the low, the people whose lives were forever balanced on the edge of oblivion, and how a couple of them fell in and died. He hung out with the affluent, who were just as twisted and inebriated as the great unwashed, only cleaner. He would accompany his rich friends all over the world, Europe, North Africa, Mexico, pursuing a drug and alcohol stupor with as much drive as the poor crazy junkies in the Bowery. Only the background changed, albeit spectacularly. Throughout his adventures he clung to fellow artists. He enjoyed their intellectual inebriation thoroughly. He found them in both worlds, the bum and the affluent, though in the affluent world they were more respected, successful artists. She could tell he was a wild young man. But his words were so quietly and gently uttered that she was falling in love. She wanted this man who was both exciting and warm. Her sexual need for him was not overwhelming but was thrilling. Dampness and a gentle throbbing in her cunny perfumed the air. But it was more background to their conversation than a need to embrace her libido by embracing him. Besides they were both a little sick from their drinking the night before. She decided she needed to go home and bathe and sleep in her own bed and return if he wanted. They made a date for the following evening, Sunday night. Frank brought the blanket up to the roof of his row house along with the chilled cabernet sauvignon. Jane brought the corned beef sandwiches, the coleslaw and chips in a picnic basket. As they enjoyed the sandwiches and poured the cold wine into plastic cups and down their throats, they enjoyed the glances. He studied her pretty face, her lean long neck, her breasts pressed against the shear white blouse, her nipples becoming more excited, pushing harder against the fabric. She studied his soft facial features, especially the warm blue eyes and the plump almost feminine lips. She enjoyed his strong shoulders under the tight t-shirt and his defined chest and flat abdomen and his snake beginning to press against his tight white shorts. He studied her long legs stretched open on either side of his legs, the smooth muscles, and how they led up to the vortex of her panties peaking out from the edge of her short white skirt hinting at the dampening and swelling pussy lips underneath. He leaned forward to kiss her. For a long voluptuous moment the sucking in of lips and the tangle of tongues were their only physical contact. A sudden need for more made his big thick hands grab hold of her hips, his fingers pushing deep into the flesh of her ass as he pulled her loins onto his. Pushing and releasing her onto him at the physical apex of pleasure, his hardening mound of flesh was sliding between her hot damp lower lips in a dry hump. Their upper lips still clung together as they moaned into each other's mouths. When their lips separated and he gently lowered her onto her back, he said with a smile, "Now where were we?" He took hold of her panties, slipping them off when Jane lifted her derriere. Kneeling between her legs, he massaged their graceful length with his hands, his fingers slowly closing in on the vertex point, her hungry cunny. Kissing her just below the massaging hands, his lips moved all the way up those legs. Once the tip of his fingers touched the lips of her cunny she moaned and opened her legs and thus her cunny lips even more for his touch. Fingertips played at the entrance, feeling the liquid of her pleasure secrete around them, until the slow ascent of his mouth finally reached the top point.