11 comments/  253354 views/  3 favorites

Randy Randi

By: falcon29



I've always thought of myself as a regular kind of guy. I was raised in the fifties and sixties. I managed to escape being drafted through a set of unusual circumstances, so my life went on undisturbed by military service.

I married the first time hastily. We were divorced two years later. My second marriage lasted fifteen years and brought two daughters into my life. My third marriage, to Sheila, brought two more daughters into my life, though they were seventeen and twenty when I met them. By the time I met Sheila I was 52 (she was 40) and I had finally worked up the courage to explore my lifelong fascination with being a naturist and nudist. For most of my life I had to pursue the interest alone, whenever I could get out into the woods or along a sheltered (and deserted) stream or lake. Neither of my first two wives was interested in the idea. I finally visited a nude resort the year before I met Sheila.

I spend most of my time at home in the nude. Sheila was okay with that -- well, she was more than okay with it, since she joined in much of the time -- and we didn't plan to make a secret of our interest in that lifestyle with her daughters.

Randi, the older daughter, lived across the country from her mother and me. She had an apartment with her boyfriend and was working part time while she finished college. Her sister Jessie came to live with us shortly after I married her mother. She bemoaned moving so far away from her friends, but she adjusted quickly. She and I got to be good friends and we've been close ever since.

The nudity thing wasn't much of a problem with Jessie. The first time she saw me naked was accidental. The phone rang in the middle of the night and she got to it before I ran into the room naked and still half asleep (I made a rapid retreat.). It was her mom calling from Dallas where she was attending a conference. Once she got off the phone she came into my room and we talked about it. She was okay with it, though she expressed a reluctance to make it part of everyday life. So I still was a little more careful than usual since she was so young and I didn't want to make her think I was flashing her or anything.

The geography made it difficult for me to get to know Randi. We talked on the phone a few times but that's pretty limited. She came to visit when Jess graduated from high school. Then, seven months after that, we flew back to Michigan at Christmas the next year so I could meet Sheila's parents. Jessie was going to college there by then, and Randi came from North Carolina to spend some holiday time with her mother and grandparents. I had an opportunity to have some good conversations with Randi and it really warmed my heart to find that Jessie had missed me.

The next time I saw Randi was after her college graduation the following December. We had only been able to afford one ticket from Montana to North Carolina so naturally Sheila went to witness Randi's proud moment. Sheila brought Randi home with her for a visit. During that visit she found me naked one morning when she came downstairs earlier than I had expected. She handled it well.

"Jessie told me I was gonna see you naked, Dan," she said, crossing the kitchen to the sink where I was making coffee. "I'm glad you didn't disappoint me. Now I really feel like I'm accepted." She punctuated her comment with a laugh and a brief squeeze of my shoulder. She glanced down for a peek at my dick. "Mom told me you shaved like she and Jess and me. I guess you must like it, huh?" 

I finished pouring the water into the coffeemaker and turned around. "You've been accepted from Day One," I told her. "And, yes, I do like it. I especially like the way it feels during sex." She grinned and acted as if nothing was out of order and I relaxed, even though I was naked and she had on sweat pants and a tee shirt. Then she wrapped her arms around my chest and we hugged. We hugged a lot, but it felt weird to be naked and hugging this pretty 20-something, but it felt great, too.

When Randi left she gave me an even greater hug than she'd ever given me. I was sorry to see her go, but her fiancé was waiting and she wanted to spend the actual holidays with him.

The next year, Sheila and I moved from Montana to Nevada because her employer transferred her. Since I am disabled it doesn't matter where I live. Jessie moved to Florida (they had other family there) after spending a year in college in Michigan. She met a guy there, fell in love and they muddled through a couple of years of trying to go to school and work before they got pregnant and then married.

Sheila got to see her first grandchild before she died. She had been having health problems for years so it wasn't really a surprise. After the funeral Randi and Jess stayed in contact with me and I was glad of that.

Randi eventually outgrew the fiancé she had when I met her and married an older guy, Tony, who was in the same field of work she was. They worked long hours and finally reached a point where they could open their own business. They sold systems to monitor environmental control stations in manufacturing plants.

Over the next few years I managed to get together with Randi and Jess -- either together or apart -- about as much as I was able to get together with my own older daughter. My younger daughter was too young when I divorced her mom to bond very well with me. Instead she followed her mom's script for her. She pretty much disowned me and we grew apart. The asshole her mother married became her "dad".

Well, to get back to the story, Tony had to spend a lot of time on the road and it was on one of those trips that he was struck by an out of control eighteen wheeler and died on the way to the hospital. He left behind a healthy business, a decent insurance policy, and a wife who was six months pregnant with their first kid.

I suggested to Randi that she move to Las Vegas to live with me. Maybe it was the shared grief as much as our mutual affection that caused her to decide to sell the business and take me up on the offer. A month after Tony's death she was on her way to Vegas. She was definitely feeling the desert heat when I met her at the airport. The sweat was running down her forehead and she looked wasted. The hug was difficult because of her protruding belly. I rubbed it and grinned at her. She looked like she was about to cry.

I got her into the car and then settled in at my house with a cold glass of iced tea. After she had showered and changed into a light sundress she looked better. In fact, I thought she looked great. 

Randi had always resembled her mother when she was younger. Pictures I have of Sheila when she was in her mid twenties show her as a slender -- almost too skinny, but sexy -- woman with brown hair and small, almost nonexistent breasts. Randi had looked like that when I met her.

Pregnant Randi had grown a pretty sizeable rack, however. She set her glass on the coffee table and reached behind her, scrunching up her pretty face as she obviously unhooked her bra. "Whew!" she groaned, "That's so much better. I don't know how those women with huge tits stand wearing one of those things all the time. This is the first time I've even owned one."

"Well, I guess you'll have to get used to it -- at least for a while. Maybe they'll go back to what you're used to after breast feeding."

"Yeah, well, maybe they'll never shrink back again after all the sucking they'll get," she said, cupping her burgeoning tits in her hands. Suddenly she must have realized the picture she made. It was almost as if she was sitting there offering her tits to me. I laughed and went to hug her. "This is gonna be fun, honey," I told her before going down the hall to the shower.

Randi went through all the 'last trimester blues' I remembered from my daughters' mother's travails. There was the whining for calf rubs. There was the complaining about back pains and the following back rubs. After the first month Randi relaxed enough to take her top off for the back rubs. She didn't show any self consciousness about having her tits on display. I think she was secretly proud to have some tits to show off, even if it was only to her old stepdad.

During the same time, the desert spring turned to the desert summer and the house temperature rose accordingly, despite the A/C. I began wearing only shorts rather than sweats when I got home from work. Randi spent the days in shorts and a shirt, a sundress, or just the long tee shirt she'd slept in. She didn't have to dress unless she wanted to go somewhere, since she didn't have to work.

I went to her Lamaze classes with her (even though it was a refresher course for me), and I rushed her to the hospital when her labor set in. I held her hand and coached her in the delivery room. I cried with her when her daughter came into the world and the whole thing only served to bring us closer.

Little Sheila was about two weeks old when I came home from my physical therapy session one evening to find a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers on the coffee table. That beauty was nothing, however, compared to the difference in Randi. She was dressed in a new "non-maternity" sundress that was low cut in front. Her new big breasts peeked out over the neckline and her legs were coolly exposed to mid-thigh. She was losing her "baby fat" quickly.

Not only that, but she had gone and gotten her hair cut and styled. She was wearing makeup. "Do you have a date?" I asked her.

"Yeah, it's with you," she said with a grin as she hooked her arm in mine and led me to the living room. "I have a sitter coming tonight." She'd mixed me a gin and tonic (instead of my usual beer) and there were snacks laid out. Randi was drinking tonic with lime, since she was nursing.

Over chips, salsa and cheese dip Randi explained. "I finally figured out that it had been quite a while since you'd been on a date -- hell, since either of us had, but you're the subject here -- so I figured I'd give you a little boot in the ass."

I sipped my drink and let the gin and lime pucker the tissues of my mouth and throat while I studied my beautiful stepdaughter. Years before I'd had fantasies about both Randi and Jessie, but those days were long gone. Any lust I'd felt toward them had long since been smothered under a different kind of caring -- the caring of a stepfather for his stepkids. Now it seemed as if Randi was making overtures, but maybe not. Maybe her excuse was true. Maybe she just wanted to go out and at the same time remind me what it was like to spend time with a pretty woman.

Randi was pretty, no question about that. In fact my thoughts were beginning to drift toward some of those buried fantasies from so long ago. Her pregnancy and motherhood hadn't detracted from her erotic potential a bit, especially after I got a look at her enlarged nipples when I rubbed her back or when she nursed Sheila. My mind shifted gears as I finished the drink and asked for another.

While Randi was making my drink I remembered a conversation I had had with her mother a couple of months after she found out she was dying. We had been talking about what came after her death. Sheila was a very practical woman. She had never asked me to take her children to my heart but I had. To me it was only normal.

"What's gonna happen when I'm gone?" Sheila asked.

"What do you mean?" I didn't know what she meant, exactly. A whole lot of shit was gonna happen when she died. I just wondered what aspect of that she was wondering about.

"I just wanted to know if you're going to stay in touch with Randi and Jess later," she said.

"Well, of course I will," I said, feeling insulted. "They're part of my life now."

"Yeah, but I just had a thought that you might all drift apart if I'm not around to hold things together."

"Listen, honey, your girls are as close to my heart as Alice is." Alice is my own older daughter. "They're definitely closer to me than Candi is." Candi is my younger daughter.

"They both love you. I just want them to have a...harbor if they ever need one. Their dad is too unstable and unsettled to give them that. He doesn't really ever know what he's gonna be doing or where he'll be a month from now." It was true. The first time around, Sheila had married a guy who was 36 when she was 17. That made him five years older than I am. I've envied him a lot about having the opportunity he had with her. There she was: a little slip of a sexy girl at seventeen -- and horny as hell, if she could be believed. There he was, 36, and basking in the teenage crush this girl had on him.

During their marriage he had mistreated her -- only a few times physically abusing her, but inflicting a lot of mental abuse -- and living off her for the most part. He let her support him and the girls and was conveniently absent for most of the real work.

So it was easy for me to accept the ready love Randi and Jessie had offered me. I played with the sexual fantasies but I knew it was all fantasy. I felt safe because I knew that I'd never hurt and insult Sheila by cheating on her -- especially with her daughters. Beyond that, I didn't think either of them saw me as a potential lover, since I was so much older than they were.

"Just take care of them, Dan. That's all I ask." She was crying when she said it and all I could do was to hug and reassure her. "And don't marry some bitch who will be jealous of your love for them," she added.

"Oh, I don't think I'll get married again. I'm too old for that."

"Well you'll have to find somebody to fuck. I've never met a man who's as horny as you are."

So now it seemed that Randi was opening a door -- at least for me to peek into -- that I hadn't expected. She entered the room and handed me the drink. She sat down that time right next to me. She leaned her head on my chest and slid an arm behind me. Her warmth soaked into me and I put my arm around her for a sideways hug.

"So, I have reservations at the Grill. You have just about enough time to shower if you don't dawdle." She gave me a wink when she said it. I wondered if she was suspicious about my long showers. That's where I jerk off for the most part. And I jerk off a lot -- more often since Randi had been around.

"I'd better get to it, then," I said. I kissed her on the forehead and patted her thigh as I rose, taking my drink with me down the hall.

I stripped off in the bedroom and took another hit from the drink. It was Friday night and I'd had an unusually taxing week for a guy who doesn't work. I belonged to several social and service groups, even though I had never dated any of the available women who also belonged.

Moreover, Randi was right. It had been a long damn time since I'd been out on a date. Since Sheila had died I hadn't been a monk, but the dates -- let alone any sexual activity with the women I went out with -- had been few and far between. I'd been to bed with two women since my wife had died, the second about six months before Randi came to live with me. I thought about Randi's smile and her winks as I stepped into the shower.

The two drinks on my empty stomach and the odd tension in the air made me horny as I soaped and rinsed. Then I soaped that one special part again and made sure it was very, very clean. When Randi came to the open door and called to me to 'get my ass in gear', I was finished and rinsing for the final time.

I stepped out and was about half finished drying off when Randi came back with a fresh drink for me. "I thought we were in a hurry," I said with a frown.

"Well, you have time to finish this while you dress." She glanced at her watch and then openly down at my recently deflated cock. "We have another hour to get there," she said. We went from the master bath to my bedroom.

I expected her to leave the room but she sat on the bed instead. I was only slightly self conscious about my semi-erect cock flopping around while she watched me dress. I crossed the room to get underwear and socks from the bureau, conscious of my naked ass being observed. Randi picked up the remote on the nightstand and turned on the TV.

While I dressed Randi surfed the channels. A few of the shows she came across apparently called for discussion. I sat on the bed to put my pants on and she happened to run across one of the new reality shows.

"Look at this," she said. "These families are supposed to find their way through the woods and to some "Grandma's house" but it's rigged."

I sat next to her and we watched for a few minutes. The show was lame, and I told her so. She clicked to another show. I glanced at the clock. It was almost 6:30. She had told me our reservations were for 7:00. I finished dressing and went back to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I heard her groan over the splashing of the running water. All I knew was that it was a sound that shouldn't have been there. I poked my head around the corner and caught Randi with her hand moving under her short dress. Her other hand held the shirt I'd worn that day to her face. I popped back as quickly as I'd popped in before she saw me watching her.

I thought I'd caught a glimpse of bare skin under the dress before I backed out of the bedroom. I wondered if she'd left her panties off. The idea that she might have, and the thought that she was lying on my bed with her fingers 'walking through the juicy pages' made me harder than I'd been only minutes before in the shower. I couldn't help wondering about the implications if she really was naked under the dress.

I took a lot longer to brush my teeth and my hair, hoping my erection would subside before I had to leave the room. I made enough noise before I entered the bedroom so that Randi had plenty of warning. She was sitting upright with her legs primly together when I got there. Her cheeks seemed a little flushed, however.

My mind wouldn't let the picture of Randi with her hand between her legs disappear as we drove to the restaurant. She drove, since I'd already had enough to drink to put me over the legal limit -- though I was far from drunk.

Dinner was great and we talked about a lot of things. We'd finished eating and I was sipping the last of the bottle of wine I'd ordered. Randi was polishing off her big piece of Mud Pie. I watched her as she consumed the dessert with childish delight. She seemed so young then, licking the chocolate from the spoon. I smiled when she put it down and I saw there was a stray smear of whipped cream near the corner of her mouth.

I reached across the table and gently wiped it off, bringing it to my lips to taste it. I watched her eyes as I did it. She looked directly back at me and a message passed between us. We both knew at that instant where things were going.

When we were about halfway home, Randi reached out and put her hand over mine where it rested on the seat between us. "What?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing really, I just felt like touching you. I love you, Dan. Do you know that?"

"Of course I know it, honey. I love you too."

"Yeah, but...well, I guess I just wanted to say it out loud...and hear you say it back." She was obviously having a hard time saying what she meant. I turned my hand palm up and gripped hers. She glanced at me and I smiled at her. Then I leaned to the side and kissed the back of her hand. She giggled, like the young woman she'd been when I'd first met her. She squeezed my hand hard.

When we got home I followed Randi into the house. As she went up the two steps between the garage and the laundry room she reached back and rubbed at the small of her back with a groan.

The babysitter was paid and dismissed and Randi closed the door behind her. In the kitchen she filled a glass with cold water from the fridge and gulped it down. I moved behind her and wrapped my arms around her. I rested my chin on her shoulder. After she set the glass on the counter she leaned back against me and sighed. My hips were touching her ass and her scent made me dizzy. She was so warm and soft and it had been way too long since I'd touched a woman. I kissed her neck lightly and she moaned, pressing her ass back against me.


Randy Randi



I have a real love/hate relationship going on with Becky up in the front office -- she loves to hate me. I have never figured out why unless she is on some class kick. Maybe she thinks that being dressed up and working in the office makes her better than someone wearing grease and ink stained coveralls out in the shop. Then again, maybe it is my hair tonic or deodorant; I really don't have a clue.

+++++++++++++++++++++

It started on her first day on the job. We pulled into the parking lot at the same time and as we headed into the building I gave her the once over and decided that she might be a nice one to bed sometime. I gave her a smile and said, "Good morning" and she gave me a look that said, "Fuck off asshole" and that pretty much set the tone of our subsequent relationship. 

We worked at a small newspaper, Becky in sales and me in the pressroom. I ran the insert machine and as a result I had to make several trips a day to the front office to talk with the circulation manager. These trips took me right past Becky's desk and I got some sort of perverse pleasure out of smiling at her as I walked by and out of making some sort of comment: "Morning Becky, like your hair today" or maybe, "Nice dress Becky, it looks good on you" or something like that.

I knew that the only response I would get would be a look of disdain, but that only made me do it more often. I wasn't trying to melt the ice, get through to her or anything like that -- I had just reached the point where I wanted to irritate her.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Months went by during which I took every opportunity to push myself into her space just to piss her off. Because of my mechanical background I was usually called anytime there was a problem in the office. They always wanted to see if I could fix the problem before spending big bucks calling in a plumber, an electrician or an HVAC company.

Maybe a third of the time I was able to take care of the problem and I used this ability to bug Becky. There was a power panel right next to her desk and whenever I had it open it meant that Becky had to put up with me being two feet from her. Two or three times a week I would open the panel and pretend to be working on something and the entire time I would have a one way conversation with her.

"Good morning Becky. You sure look nice today. I like your hair that way, it really frames your face. You like hockey Becky? The Avs are really hot right now. If Sakic can stay healthy and Roy can keep his string going they will be the odds on favorite to take the Stanley Cup. Ah, here it is, a loose wire. Just tighten up the set screw and viola! -- all done." 

I'd close up the panel, pick up my tools and voltmeter, give her a smile and say, "Have a nice day kid" and go back to the pressroom. Childish of me I know, but I enjoyed it.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

I met her husband at the company Christmas party. He seemed like a nice enough guy and I wondered what she was like when she was alone with him. Because of the circumstances Becky was forced to be almost civil to me and I took the opportunity to do a little more grinding. After being introduced to her husband Brad I started talking to him about what a joy it was to work with Becky.

"Sometimes a job can really suck, but even when it's bad having someone like Becky around can make a major difference. She has such a sunny disposition that it is infectious."

Now I don't know if he was standing there smiling and thinking, "Is this guy from another planet?" or whether he was eating up the bullshit, but it didn't really matter because it was a shot at Becky. I winked at her and walked away from them. Later on that evening I passed her as I was coming from the men's john and she was going to the ladies facility and I gave her a smile and said, "Meet you under the mistletoe?" 

I got a nasty look and the one finger salute and I said, "I'll take that to mean no. Maybe next year, huh?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I absolutely refused to let her get under my skin. The nastier she was toward me the nicer I was to her. Of course my nice was really sarcasm, but hey, as long as it bugged her, right?

One cold and wet night - it was raining cats and dogs -- I got off work and saw that Becky was still in the parking lot. The hood of her car was up and I pulled up next to her and rolled down my window, "Trouble?" The look I got was, "Duh. I'm standing in the rain and the hood is up, what do you think?"

I got out of my car and walked over to hers.

"I don't need your help. I've got some one coming."

"Sorry kid. I can't drive off and leave a lady in distress standing there; it is against the code."

"Code? What code?"

"Don't sweat it kid, it's a guy thing."

I spotted what I thought was the problem as soon as I looked under the hood. Her positive terminal had a big glob of bluish-green corrosion on it. I grabbed the cable and sure enough, it turned. I made a big production out of getting a couple of wrenches out of the trunk of my car, taking the positive cable off, cleaning it and putting it back on the battery. I told her to get in and try the key. It started right up and I slammed the hood closed. She put the car in gear and drove off without a word. 

"You're welcome," I shouted at the disappearing taillights.

Anyway, this gives you some idea of how Becky and I got along.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The paper had four people in sales and they spent a good part of their day on the phone trying to sell ad space to businesses. Every so often the paper would run a sales contest and the salesperson who sold the most ad space got a bonus. Becky's desk is opposite Miranda's desk and I have to walk between them on my way to the circulation manager's office. One afternoon, during the middle of one those sales contests I was on my way back to the pressroom when Miranda pushed her chair back, jumped up, pumped her fist and yelled, "Yes!" Becky asked what was up.

"After four months of trying to get with John at Argosy Restaurant I finally got an appointment to see him. One on one in person. I know I can sell him."

"Fat chance" Becky said, "I talked to him six months ago and he turned me down flat."

Any other time I would have kept on walking, but after Becky said, "Fat chance" I just couldn't let it go.

Now Miranda is one of those women who are as sexy as hell and who love to flirt. She is one hundred percent faithful to her husband, but she doesn't mind getting raunchy with you. But her most endearing trait, at least to me, is that she always wears high heels. Doesn't matter what she wears, suits, dresses, skirts, slacks or jeans, she always wears heels and heels have always been my major turn on. I called her Randi and I flirted with her terribly.

"Hey Randi," I said, "I know you won't give me a taste, but if you wear your highest heels and shortest skirt for me for a week I'll tell you how to hook John."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope, not at all. I can guarantee it."

"If you can do that you got a deal. If he signs on the dotted line I might even break my marriage vows and pop for a blow job."

"Hey, with an incentive like that I just have to come through for you. When's your appointment?"

"Tomorrow at ten."

"Wear your sexiest pair of heels, your shortest skirt and make sure you sit where John can see a lot of leg and I'll do the rest."

"What can you do?"

"Watch sweetmeat, and practice your pucker for that blow job we both know I'm not going to get."

I took my cell phone out of my pocket and hit a speed dial number. When it was answered I said, "Hi babe. How's the sexiest sister a guy could have doing today?"

"Of course I mean it. You want proof just stop by my place tonight. Is himself available?"

"Let me talk at him."

I looked over at Randi and said, "Show me the pucker baby."

She pursed her lips and I did a fake shudder.

"Hey big brother, how's it going?"

"No, not calling about that. Need a favor."

"Of course it will cost you. Here's the deal. I've just found out that a very hot lady that I've been trying to get into my bed wants to do business with you."

"What?"

"She sells advertising and you advertise so do me a favor and do it with her. She has an appointment to see you at ten tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"No. I told her I knew one of the owners and that I'd put in a good word for her. Help me out here bro, see to it that she feels grateful to me." 

"Sure." 

"Saturday? Yeah, I can do that. Talk at you later."

I ended the call and put my cell back in my pocket. I smiled at Randi and said, "You're in sweetie. You'll get some business out of him, but how much will be up to you and what you can offer him as far as rates and things like that go. He will do me the favor, but he is still a hard-nosed businessman. I was serious when I said wear your shortest skirt and sexiest heels. John is every bit the leg man that I am and flashing those gorgeous gams of yours at him just might distract him enough to give you an advantage. Got to go. Been away from my machine too long."

I looked over at Becky, "Fat chance, huh?" and then I got back to the pressroom.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning Randi wasn't at her desk when I went up to see the circulation manager, but Becky was at hers and I got a dirty look from her on my way to the office and again on my way back to the pressroom. For some childish reason those looks made my day. I was setting up the hoppers on the insert machine when I saw the other guys all looking toward the back of the shop and I turned and looked and saw Randi walking toward me in the shortest skirt and the sexiest high heels that I had ever seen. When she got to me she said, "The skirt short enough for you?"

"One inch shorter and you wouldn't even need to bother wearing it."

"Think you can handle a week of seeing me like this?"

"I'm sure I'll be handling something every night when I get home."

"You say the sweetest things. Buy me lunch?"

"You got it."

As she walked away leaving me with an iron bar in my pants I hated her husband for being such a nice guy that she stayed faithful to him.

Thirty minutes later when I was on my way up front to the office Becky intercepted me and she was pissed.

"How could you help that slut. That's cheating. We are in the middle of a contest and you helped her. That's not fair. How could you do that? How could you help her and not me?"

"It's easy kid. She likes me, you don't" and I walked away from her.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lunch with Randi didn't turn out at all like I thought it would. After we had ordered she asked, "Why didn't you tell me about your brother a long time ago and why didn't you tell me that you are one of the owners?"

"No real reason to and I only own twenty percent. I am a silent partner and have no say in the running of the business. And I probably wouldn't have said anything yesterday if it hadn't been for Becky's smart assed remark."

"What do you mean by that?"

I told her about my relationship with Becky and how her "fat chance" remark had spurred me to get involved. Randi shook her head and smiled, "You men can be so dense sometimes."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've noticed the way she looks at you when you are around. She wants to jump your bones so bad it is killing her, but she's married and she doesn't want to be bad. On the other hand she doesn't trust herself not to be bad so she has built this wall to help her keep her distance from you. If you pressed, really pressed, she would probably cave."

"Since you are telling me this and pushing me toward her, or at least giving me pointers, I take it to mean that I'm still not going to score with you."

"I didn't say that stud, now did I?"

At that point the waitress arrived with our food. We ate in silence and after Randi had cleaned her plate she looked at me and said, "So, are you going to try for Becky?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because if what you are telling me is true she doesn't want to risk her marriage. I have no interest in ruining anyone's marriage. I don't mind chasing after married women, but they have to be interested in playing or at least in enjoying the chase."

"Oh my, whoever would have thought a soft heart beat under that gruff exterior."

There were several moments of silence and then Randi said, "Your brother is kind of cute."

"That's an odd thing to hear from you."

"Does he fool around?"

"If he does he is very careful about it. If he got caught Shelly would cut his nuts off. What's this all about? Figure that you can get more business by banging?"

"No, not really, but if more business came out of it, it would be nice."

"So the blow job I was never going to get is going to go to John?"

"Maybe shared."

"What is this all about Miranda?"

"It is about getting even."

"Care to explain?"

"Last year I caught my husband with his secretary. We had a nice long talk and I sort of forgave him, but I told him that since he had strayed that I was owed one. I told him that he wasn't completely off the hook until I'd had an affair of my own. I never intended to have that affair, just leave the threat of it hanging over his head, but I have since changed my mind. But I don't want just any old affair. Since I'm only going to do it one time I want it to be memorable. I want my affair to be a threesome. I've thought about it for six months now, but could never settle on who to have it with. Until this morning. As soon as I saw your brother I knew that I wanted my two partners to be you and John. I know I can get you, but can I also get John?"

"You are serious?"

"Absolutely."

"One time and one time only?"

"That's the deal."

I stared at Randi for a good minute and contemplated and then I took out my cell and called my brother.

"Hey bro, did your dick get hard this morning?"

"I thought it might. Yeah, the lady was most appreciative."

"Oh yeah."

"Yeah, okay. Hey, what I'm calling about is that the lady turns out to have a kinky side to her. She wants to thank both of us at the same time." 

"Yeah, I remember. What's it been, fourteen years now? I wonder if she ever thinks of us."

"I don't know. Hang on, I'll ask."

I looked at Randi, "When?"

"After work tonight?"

"Where?"

"Your place?"

"Hey bro, how about my place around six tonight?"

"Good. See you there."

I ended the call and put my cell away.

"It's a done deal sweetie. You going to name names when you tell hubby that you are even?"

"Good lord no. I'm not going to tell him we are even. I want the threat of my stepping out on him to hang over his head forever."

"One time and he never knows."

"Exactly."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Except that it wasn't that way at all. Randi didn't realize that she had a slut buried inside her until she got double dicked for the first time. She went nuts when John and I took her in the ass and pussy at the same time. She actually went to her knees and sucked my cock as soon as I pulled it out of her ass without letting me wash it because she was in such a hurry to do it again. John and I each came in her three times before she had to get dressed and head for home.

Before she left my place that night she had laid out a schedule of when she could be available for the next three weeks. That was seven months ago and John and I are fucking her two and three times a week. 

The relationship with Becky is still pretty much the same although I have noticed her watching me intently when she doesn't know I am watching her. Randi did tell Becky that she did indeed give me a blow job for getting her John's account.

"You should see his cock sweetie, it is huge."

That's a lie of course, I'm only average (whatever that is), but apparently that information peaked Becky's interest. Randi tells me that Becky will probably make a move on me in the next two or three weeks and I told her that she had better hope that she was wrong.

"Why?"

"Because I don't think I could handle you both."

"Nonsense. The nights you aren't with me you can be with her. If it gets too bad for your pee pee you can share her with John or maybe even bring her with you on a night that you, I and John get together." 

"You wouldn't mind?"

"No lover, I wouldn't mind. In fact, it would give me a chance to try something else I want to do."

"What's that?"

"Eat pussy. I want to try it before and after she gets fucked. Think we can arrange it?"

"If you're right and she moves on me I don't see why not. In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised Randi, not even a little bit."



Randy Randi



I released her and took her hand. Neither of us said anything as I led her down the hall to my bedroom. I turned on the little lamp on the dresser and led her to stand beside the bed. I took her face in my hands and brushed my lips against hers. I'd kissed her on the lips before but this kiss was meant to convey a different feeling to her. She got the message.

She kissed me back and then we were opening our mouths and dancing our tongues together. I reached down and slid her dress up over her hips and belly. I broke the kiss so I could pull it over her head. It left her standing there in just the hated bra. I unhooked it and she shrugged it off. In the low light from the lamp I looked at her. She was beautiful.

She sat on the bed and stroked her newly flat belly as she watched me undress. When she opened her legs it drew my attention to her crotch. As I mentioned earlier, I knew she shaved her pubic hair, but this was the first time I'd seen the evidence directly.

I pulled my underwear off over my erection and Randi's eyes sparkled. She grinned again and I grinned back, crossing to the bed and standing between Randi's knees. She leaned back on her elbows and clamped my legs with her knees.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I escaped her grasp and dropped to my knees before her. I ran my hands over the smoothness of her thighs and belly. I kissed her and slid my hand to her breast. The nipple was rock hard and oozing a little milk. I leaned down and sucked it gently, tasting -- for the first time since my own mother had nursed me -- her mother's milk. She pressed her hand on the back of my head and groaned out loud.

"That feels so good," she whispered. "I hear some women have orgasms when they nurse their babies. I haven't yet, but I keep hoping." I gave the nipple one last suck -- and got another squirt. I moved up and kissed Randi before sliding down to taste her beautiful pussy.

Her scent was strong and musky. I reveled in the slippery fluid she exuded. My tongue pushed her over the edge twice before I stopped. She rolled over, presenting her back and that beautiful ass to me. I stroked her back and squeezed the half globes of that ass for the first time.

I kissed my way from the crease of her butt to her nape. Then I went back down and planted a noisy kiss on each cheek of her ass to make her giggle. She stopped giggling when my tongue slid down along the crease. She lifted her leg and I dove in again, flicking my tongue over her puckered ass hole. That brought another loud groan. "Would you quit fucking around and fuck me already?" she begged.

From the depths between her cheeks I asked, "Don't you like this?"

"God, yes! But I want to feel that cock inside me. You wouldn't believe how many times I've masturbated imagining us like this. Of course, in my original fantasies I wasn't a mother already."

"I think I would believe it. I've had the same fantasies." I slid up and positioned my erection at her crotch. She felt superheated and I moved back and forth to spread some of her lubrication along my length. I rolled her onto her side as I got up, kneeling with one leg on either side of her right leg. Her left leg draped up and rested on my shoulder. Her labia were swollen and gaped open with her desire.

Angling my hips I pushed the tip of my cock into her easily. I slid in gently and we both groaned. There is no way I could describe the way it felt -- the way I felt -- being inside Randi. It was a fulfillment I hadn't expected. 

It was one of those rare moments when a man and a woman are truly melded. All the years of desire, loneliness and love coalesced into a feeling that was much more than the sum of its parts. I'd only felt it a couple of times in my life. Those times were nothing compared to what I felt with Randi right then. I stroked her belly as I stroked in and out of her gently. She turned her head and looked up at me. She was crying with her love and gratitude. My own eyes filled and we kept making love until I was overwhelmed by my orgasm. Incredibly, I remained hard and brought her to three climaxes of her own before my second one blew my mind out the window.

When I lowered Randi's leg she groaned with the stiffness that had set in while it was raised. I spooned against her back, my messy cock softening against the crack of her ass. She sighed and wiggled against me. "Jessie used to tell me how she would lie in bed at night and listen to you and Mom having sex. We compared notes and decided you must be a great lover judging by the noise Mom made."

"Wait until I tell Jessie how much we'd underestimated your skills," she added. The thought that she might share our secret with her sister hadn't occurred to me. I wasn't sure I wanted her to do so, but I thought she would be the best judge of that so I didn't say anything. I pulled the bedspread over us and we slept there the rest of the night.

Two weeks later Jessie flew in from Miami to meet her niece. When I picked Jess up at the airport she was definitely happy to see me. She'd put on some weight -- she'd never been as slender as Randi had been, but now she was definitely a "BBW". Still, she was pretty and she carried her weight well.

As we stood next to Randi watching Sheila nursing, Jessie reached down to feel the baby's fine hair -- she was a blonde -- and she smiled at her sister.

I went down to the corner convenience store to give the girls some time alone. It had been two years since they'd seen each other and I knew they needed to spend some time without me around. When I went back to the house Randi told me to take Jessie out for lunch so she could rest. 

I was only slightly surprised when it was Jessie who came to my bed that night instead of Randi. We didn't say anything at all. She just slid under the covers and snuggled against me, taking hold of my growing cock. She squeezed it and let it get completely hard as she kissed me. Then she rose up and mounted me. Her hairless pussy slipped along my length a few times before she reached down to hold me straight up. She sank down, embedding me inside her. I reached up to hold her big tits and she began to ride. It felt like making love to the Earth Mother as I ran my hands over her big belly and ass.

Our eyes were locked as she fucked me. When she shuddered in climax her eyes closed and her muscles squeezed me tightly inside her. That pushed me over the edge and I filled her with my semen. She shivered and rocked back and forth when I came.

She collapsed on top of me, her weight partly supported on her hands resting on either side of my head. She grinned and gave me a quick kiss. "Next time I want you to eat me first. Randi says you do good work."

"What do you mean, 'next time'?" I asked her lightly tickling her sides. She jumped and the action had a delightful effect on our genitals. "Give me a few minutes and I'll clean up the mess I made between your wonderful thighs."

"My fat thighs you mean," she sighed.

"I mean your big, lovely, sexy, delicious thighs. Don't put yourself down, Jess. You're a beautiful, sexy woman. Any man that doesn't think so is an idiot."

"Hmm...I guess I married an idiot, then. Sam doesn't seem to find me as attractive these days as you seem to. We only have sex about once a month, and then it's not much better than masturbating." Jessie was always outspoken about sex. I was glad to learn that hadn't changed.

"Uh oh. I hope you guys can work it out. Have you talked about it?" She shook her head and looked away.

"Let's change the subject, Dan," she said. "I want to just be right here now, with you." I put my arms around her and drew her down to me. She sniffed a couple of times and I knew she was crying. It surprised her when my hand landed on her fleshy ass with a loud cracking noise. She pulled away and cried out, "Hey! What was that for?"

"For fun," I grinned at her. "You wanted me to change the subject."

We rolled around and didn't discuss anything for a while. I slurped up all our juices and wallowed in the hot, aromatic vee of her thighs and crotch until she had another climax, groaning in much the same way her mother used to do.

When we celebrated little Sheila's first birthday we were a family of five. Jessie had divorced Sam and brought her son, Paul, to Vegas to live with Randi, Sheila and me. Pooling our resources made it possible for us to buy a larger home on six acres outside the city. We have our own pool and hot tub. Except for Sheila's occasional diapers, none of us wear much around the house. At four, Paul has taken to nudity like most little kids do. He's getting brown from playing out in the sun.

Now, three months later, I'm not sure where we're going. Neither of my stepdaughters seems to miss the company of other men. They say they're content to share me. I suppose one day one or both of them will find somebody else and break my heart. For now I'm just enjoying my golden years with two of the most loving, sexy women on earth. 



Randy Randy



"It wasn't supposed to happen this way," Randall Becker said to himself.

Not bothering to put on any clothes, he sat in the big chair, swigging tequila and watching Carrie sleep. Curled up on the couch as she was, with her back to him, she looked amazingly small and fragile. You would never suspect she could rip a guy's guts out. 

They had just finished fucking. Randy loved couches for fucking. Couches offered so many more possibilities than beds and he felt a sense of satisfaction that he had now fucked on one that was over a hundred years old. He wondered how many times that couch had seen that kind of action through the years.

It had been Carrie's idea to come here. He had tried to tell her that bikers didn't do bed and breakfasts and they sure as shit didn't go to museums, but here they were. Carrie had insisted and he had to admit he had enjoyed himself, but now, as he sat and watched her sleep, he felt his insides churn.

He wasn't supposed to fall in love perioud, but if he did, he was supposed to fall in love with a hard-core biker chick. She was supposed to be drop-dead gorgeous and have big tits. She was supposed to fuck like a pit bull in heat and never get enough, especially when drunk on her ass. She was supposed to be able to suck the chrome off a kickstand and fight like a man. 

Carrie wasn't like that and she wasn't any of those things. She was only average looking, she had little tits and even though she loved sex she wasn't very good at it and he knew he would have a lot more birthdays than he ever would blow jobs.

"This really sucks," he continued to complain to himself. Hell, he was Randall Becker. He was the best there was. All the old ladies said so. He was "Randy Randy" "Hot Rod" or sometimes "Tool." He could fuck like crazy and he deserved an old lady who could too. He was never going to have that with Carrie, but the problem was he didn't care, or more precisely, that he did care 

Hell, he didn't even know how he gotten hooked up with Carrie in the first place. It was an accident really. She was slinging booze at one of the out-of-the way watering holes that Randy had never even been to before and he figured she would be an easy mark. He spent all that night and the next two months finding out otherwise and now it was he who was the mark. 

At first glance, Carrie wasn't that much different from all the other old ladies. Anyone looking from the outside would just take her for the typical "Biker Chick," but when you got to know her, she was different. She never drank too much, she didn't flash her tits and she didn't do dope of any kind. Another thing a person might notice if they looked carefully was that Carrie didn't have the usual collection of tattoos and piercing like the other girls. She just had the obligatory arm bands; an abstract design she had drawn herself and they were clearly the best Randy had ever seen. 

Carrie's armbands were beautiful and Randy hated them, at least the one on her left arm. Cleverly integrated into the design was the name "Top Hat." He hadn't even noticed for a long time, but the first time he did was the first time in his life he had ever been jealous. It had hit him hard and fast and it had hurt. 

He had asked her about it, but she said she had been drunk and didn't remember. She told him it didn't mean anything, but Randy knew it wasn't true. Carrie never got that drunk. Randy knew it had meant a lot sometime in the past and it made him crazy sometimes.

It wasn't like he hadn't had his share of women through the years who were crazy about him, but they never made him feel the way Carrie did. He knew he could trust Carrie with his heart and that was something with which he couldn't even trust himself. That's what was different about Carrie and it was scary.

"Well, you're quite the randy fellow aren't you, Randy."

"WHAT THE FUCK!" exclaimed Randy as he jumped up from the chair and spun around in a circle trying to see who was there but saw no one. 

"Haven't you had enough of that?"

"SHIT!" exclaimed Randy spewing the swig of tequila he had just taken into his mouth onto the floor.

"What's the matter, Randy? Can't hold your liquor?"

"SON OF A BITCH!" cried Randy, desperately looking around the room, "MUTHERFUCKER!"

"You really don't have much of a vocabulary do you, Randy?"

"Holy shit! What the fuck is goin on?" Randy asked himself, still desperately looking around to see where the voice was coming from.

"My name is Leah."

"What the fuck is this?" asked Randy, reaching out with his arm trying to feel or see something, anything.

"You really are kind of slow, aren't you, Randy Randy. I'm what you would call a ghost, obviously."

"What kind of bullshit is this?" exclaimed Randy, reaching for Carrie and shaking her shoulder to no avail.

"She will stay asleep. I can make people do that."

"I don't know who the fuck you are," growled Randy, as he scurried around the room, trying to spot a microphone or anything to explain the situation, "but somebody's going to get their ass kicked."

"The voice is in your head, but I'm over here."

"What the fuck do you want?" asked Randy, still looking around, now angry as well as surprised and still a little scared.

"I'd like to get laid if you think you're up to it."

"What?" said Randy.

"Are you deaf as well as slow, Randy Randy? I said I would like to get laid if you think you can get it up."

"Sure, I can get it up if I think it's worth it," replied Randy, defiantly, taking another swig of tequila and getting some of his swagger back.

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

"How do I know you're real?" asked Randy.

"Is this real enough?"

"Whoa! Jesus!" exclaimed Randy, as he felt a hot wind in his ear, which again scared the shit out of him. 

Instinctively bending his knees to get low, Randy stuck out his arm and spun around in a circle, trying to feel something. 

"Slower."

"What? asked Randy.

"Just stand up, put your hand out and move it in front of you very slowly."

"Shit! Fuck! cried Randy as he felt his hand come into contact with something warm.

"You really need to work on your vocabulary Randy."

"Yeah, yeah, you said that already," said Randy.

"Now, try it again."

"Whoa! Far out!" said Randy as he felt the warmth again and slowly began to recognize the unmistakable shape of a woman.

"Far out?...you a hippie or a biker, Randy?"

"You wanna fight or fuck?" asked Randy, distractedly as he busied himself looking for her breasts.

"Nice, aren't they?"

"They'll do," said Randy, as he delighted in his careful examination of what were obviously a large pair of well formed breasts.

"Damn!" exclaimed Randy, as his hand suddenly felt only air again when he reached down and tried to find the real prize.

"No, no. I don't allow anyone to touch my pussy."

"How we supposed to fuck if I can't touch your pussy?"

"Slowly, of course. Now sit back down in the chair."

"Yeah, O.K., alright," said Randy, doing as instructed.

"How's this?

"Damn!" exclaimed Randy, as he felt what was unmistakably a soft hand take hold of his dick and begin to stroke it. 

"Now, don't move."

"Oh! Fuck yeah!" said Randy as he felt the sudden warmth of what could only be a set of lips replace the hand, "Fucking A!"

"Ummmm."

"Wow, you're a pretty good cocksucker," said Randy after the short period of time it took for his dick to get hard.

"Ummm Hummm."

"We have all night you know," said Randy, but was soon disappointed as the lips withdrew, "Oh, come on!"

"That's all you get. Now come over and stand at the edge of the bed...That's it...Just a little closer."

"No one's gonna fucking believe this," said Randy, as he inched closer to the bed. Feeling a pair of heels in the small of his back, he kept inching forward until the head of his dick came into contact with something very warm.

"NO! NO! Not so hard!"

"Jesus!" cried Randy as he felt only air again.

"Try again, only slower this time. That's it."

"Shit, this is fucking great!" exclaimed Randy as he began to get used to the situation.

Finally, feeling his way, Randy was able to distinguish the outline of her body. Putting his hands down on the bed, he braced himself with his arms and began to stroke in earnest, but as required, carefully.

"Ummmmm."

"Softly and tenderly," blasphemed Randy softly with a big smile to the tune of the old religious song, "Randy is fucking."

"Ummmmm....Ohh."

"So that's what a dick looks like inside a pussy," thought Randy, to himself, as he watched the skin of his dick go back and forth and a little cloud of pre-cum begin to collect around it.

"Ummmmm....Ohh...just shut up and fuck Randy."

"You're gonna come! Bringin it on home baby!" crowed Randy sometime later as the room filled with the tell-tale cries he knew so well.

"Ohhhhh!.....Yes!.....Ohhhhh!...Fuck!....Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

"Ohhhh!...Fuck!...Aaggghh!...cried Randy a few moments later.

"NO! DON'T YOU DARE!"

"Oh!...Fuck!...Jesus Christ!...Agghhhhh...Shit! Bitch!" cried Randy as he suddenly felt only cool air again and had to restrain himself, "Do you know how hard that is?"

"I want it from behind too."

"If you weren't a ghost I'd beat your ass," said Randy as he again approached the bed. After feeling his way around and getting scolded again for touching her pussy, Randy managed to get plugged in again and find his stroke.

"Ummm...Ummm...Ummm."

"Damn this is hot!" said Randy, before settling in for another ten minutes of nothing but moans and groans.

"Ummm...Ummm...Ummm"

"Agghhhhhh...Ohhhh...Agghhhhhh...Now or never!" cried Randy, doubling his pace.

"Ohhhhhh...OKAY...Ohhhhh....YES!...Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Shit," said Randy, after he had come and watched his load suspend in mid-air and then fall onto the bed.

"You really need to work on your vocabulary, Randy."

"Yea, well, I don't need no five dollar words to do a number on you bitch," crowed Randy.

"Oh...I've had better...lots better."

"No way," said Randy, with a little laugh, "They don't get no better than Randall Becker.

"Whatever."

"So how did you get to be a ghost?" asked Randy, after he had once again sat down in the big chair and lit up a smoke.

"Oh, the usual way."

"Murdered?" asked Randy tentatively.

"Yeah."

"Sorry," said Randy.

"Thanks."

"Mind if I ask how?" asked Randy.

"I was one of seven girls over the years. They never caught him."

"I don't know what to say," said Randy.

"Not much to say."

"How old were you?" asked Randy.

"Nine."

"I'm starting to feel really weird about now," said Randy.

"No need. As you can tell, I'm an adult now."

"How old are you?" asked Randy.

"Let's just say I saw one-hundred and fifty go by before Harley ever heard of Davidson."

"Is this where you lived?" asked Randy.

"No, I just like old houses."

"Your name really isn't Leah is it," said Randy.

"No, it's just what people expect. I think it's the most popular name for ghosts."

"An alias, I can dig that," said Randy and they both laughed.

"So what's it like being a ghost?" asked Randy 

"Oh, it has its moments."

"Yeah, I guess it would, but really, what do you do, you know, say, in a typical day?" asked Randy.

"I watch. I listen. I know."

"You fuck," teased Randy, obviously trying to lighten the tone.

"That too."

"So are you a voyeur?" asked Randy teasingly.

"My, my, a six letter word."

"Sorry, I got carried away," said Randy.

"I like to watch people make love sometimes, but mostly I know things and I do what I can."

"What kind of things do you know?" asked Randy.

"All things."

"Yea right," said Randy.

"Try me."

"O.K.," said Randy, "What am I thinking right now?"

"Right now, you are hoping it's not true."

"Good guess," said Randy.

"It wasn't a guess."

"O.K.," said Randy, "What else?"

"You're wondering if the police have any clues."

"Oh please," said Randy, "I'm an officer in a motorcycle gang. I'm always wondering if the cops have any clues."

"It's not about the gang."

"Then you're wrong," said Randy.

"No, I'm not."

"It's your show," said Randy, but the distant look in his eyes and the tone in his voice betrayed a certain dread.

"You sure?"

"Go for it," said Randy, but the false bravado in his manner was evident.

"You know how it feels."

"How what feels?" asked Randy.

"To be nine and helpless."

"Can't say I remember much," said Randy, obviously trying to avoid what he was afraid was coming, "That's when I started drinking."

"When you were nine, your parents sent you to stay with your uncle for the summer. Ten years later they found his body at the bottom of a well. His head had been bashed in."

"He deserved it," said Randy.

"I know."

"Jesus," said Randy after a long pause and at a loss for words for what had just transpired between them."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," said Randy.

"As I said before Randy, I do what I can and there is something I would like to do for you."

"What's that?" asked Randy.

"It's about Carrie."

"What about her?" asked Randy.

"You've noticed she's been different lately...a little distracted."

"Yeah," said Randy.

"She's about to leave you, Randy."

"This encounter is really going downhill," said Randy.

"In her purse there's a letter from a man."

"Top Hat?" asked Randy, again tentatively.

"Yes."

"What's it say?" asked Randy.

"It's a love letter Randy."

"I see," said Randy.

"There's something else in the envelope."

"What's that?" asked Randy.

"A ticket to Holdenville...one way...from here."

"Her choice," said Randy defiantly, but unable to disguise the hurt in his voice.

"You have choices too, Randy."

"I haven't had any choices for a long time," said Randy, "I am what I am."

"What you are is a thug, Randy."

"Fuck you," said Randy.

"You did already."

"You done now?" asked Randy.

"No."

"You got one more shot," said Randy.

"Everybody's nine Randy. Once you've been nine, there's a part of you that's always going to be nine, but you have to move on."

"What's your point," said Randy.

"You have to tell her how you feel, stupid."

"You mean the old 'I love you and I wouldn't be anything without you' stuff," said Randy.

"Absolutely, all that stupid stuff."

"You ever been on a Harley?" asked Randy, after a long pause.

"Yeah, once in Milwaukee, but he couldn't fuck worth a damn."

"Smartass bitch," said Randy, "I mean the motorcycle."

"No, I can't say that I have. The last thing I rode was a horse."

"You wanna give it a try?" asked Randy.

"Well, I guess I don't have to worry about getting killed."

"How we going to do this?" asked Randy.

"You just start the motor or whatever it is you do and I'll be there."

"You here?" asked Randy, after he had gone downstairs and mounted and started his motorcycle.

"I'm here, on your lap."

"Alright here we go," said Randy, easing the big bike out onto the street.

"Wooooo! Weeeeeee!"

"This is some neat shit, ain't it?" said Randy.

"Neat shit, indeed!"

"This is called a freeway," said Randy, bringing the bike up to speed and feeling the unmistakable tingle of what had to be wind-swept hair on his face, "Time to open her up."

"OoooooooooooWuuuuuuuuuueeeeeeeeeee!"

"How do you like it?" asked Randy.

"Can you ride this thing with one hand?"

"Fuck Yeah," said Randy, "Why?"

"Then get your dick out."

"Good idea," said Randy as he eased his dick out of his pants and felt the cool dry air brushing his dick change to a very warm and moist feeling.

"Wuuuuuuuuuuuueeeeeeeeeee! Ohhhhhhhhhh! Fuckkkkkkkkkk!

"Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'Fast Fuck' wouldn't you say?" asked Randy.

"Ummmmmmmmm!"

...

"Did you see that dirty Biker, Mildred?" asked the old lady of her companion as Randy's motorcycle sped by in the fast lane.

"My word, yes!" replied MIldred, "He had his penis out!"

"Dirty pervert biker," said the old lady.

"Really," said Mildred, "Sometimes I don't think those dirty bikers are even human." 



Randy Randy



Author's note: This is a romantic satire, y'know. Don't take it too seriously. All sexual activity involves modern humans of age 18+. Nobody is murdered, not even those happily fucked to death. Feedback is appreciated.


----- randy Randy -----

I am Randy. That is both my name and my condition. (Sort of like my cousin's sweet daughter Torchy, who is always in heat. But I digress.) I am married to tall dark Yolanda. We have been together for some years. She is pretty fucking hot.

But why did I bother getting married? That is a good question.

Marriage is questionable for me, because I am a special kind of guy. There is even an erotica trope about me, the Pornomancer.

The PM is the guy they make pr0n flicks about, the guy you read about in erotica and XXX comix and fantasies. The PM is the natural babe magnet. He is the fucking magic man. You know about the guy.

The PM walks down the street, and women attach themselves to him. He enters an elevator, and women drop to their knees while zipping open his fly. He jumps into a swimming pool, and girls drag him to the deep end and slide their thongs off. The PM attends a PTA meeting, and mothers push their daughters at him to deflower. He lies down for a nap, and awakens from a wet dream to find a mouth or vagina engulfing his cock. Such happens constantly.

In fiction, the PM may be a Nice Guy who does not really know that he is a deadly flame for all the female moths. He does not try to exploit the gals who chase him, and he maybe acts resigned when they catch him. When seduced yet again, he just says, "Oh lord!" or "Why me?" or "Sure, I suppose."

That is fiction. In real life, he knows exactly what he has, and he has as much fun as possible with it.

That's me. I do not know how it happened.

I am no jock, no in-crowd-er, no academic star. I was never on the school paper or yearbook or band or any teams or hi-status clubs. I just hit a hot growth spurt. Suddenly, a couple years into puberty, I was six-six with size sixteen feet and octave-span fingers. Girls decided that my height, and shoe and hand size, meant my cock was likely large. Yes, they were right. But that is still no explanation.

My research says it is all about sex hormones called pheromones. Some pheromones just seem to attract the attention of members of either or both sexes.

At one level, the attraction is called "charisma".

Another level is "sex appeal".

Where I stand, it is just "fuck me".

So I spurted height-wise and hormone-wise -- and suddenly became BMOC (Big Man On Campus). Every girl seemed to want me. Seemed like every girl had me. I was not especially nice nor emotionally mature nor otherwise a long-term catch. I was just almost every girl's favorite boy-toy, a cock-and-tongue show. I came on command.

-----

I was first noticed by the girl next door, no shit.

Lilith was the usual pain-in-the-ass neighbor girl all my life, conspiring against me with my sisters, mocking my boy-cooties. She started growing tits, but I did not really notice. Then *I* grew tall, with balls. And she was magnetized by me.

I was walking home, pissed off. My jeans were just one month old, and were already too short for my fast-growing legs. Having ankles stick out from under the pant legs is embarrassing like a squeaky voice. I wanted to change into shorts and sandals, soonest, and dump my books too.

"Hey Randy, how's things?" Lilith called. I had not heard her sneak up behind me.

"Err yeah, hi there Lil, everything's okay, sure." I was still awkward and shy.

"You doing anything this afternoon? How would you like to come over to our pool? My parents won't be back until late tonight. We'll have it all to ourselves."

"Ah yeah sure, that'd be great. I just have to go home and get a swimsuit first."

"Oh, you won't need a swimsuit. Just come as you are. That's what I'll be doing."

Lilith pulled up her blouse and bra, revealing firm bare breasts with large brown aueroles and stiff protruding nipples. My "awkward and shy" phase passed quickly.

We went through her house and undressed and jumped in the pool. Lil could not keep her hands off my quickly-enlarging cock. That afternoon, she introduced me to blow jobs, and tit fucks, and eventually PIV (Penis-In-Vagina) intercourse, my first. She seemed happy. *I* certainly had a ball. Lots of sticky balling, actually.

We had hot fun in her pool and bedroom and many other areas of her house over the next week or so. I filled her with my hot creamy spunk, time after wet time. Yeah!

Then my sisters got into the act.

Dora and Lora were twins, a year older than me, already attending junior college while living at home and continually teasing me. Lil invited them over for a cool pool session. No swimsuits, of course. This was apparently not their first time.

"Hey Randy, you're starting to look like a man," Dora said, squeezing my biceps.

Lora floated on my other side and prodded my thigh with her knee underwater. Very naked, Lora and Dora's glazed blue eyes were focused on the blurry sub-surface image of my half-masted cock. Their blonde muffs almost twitched with excitement.

Lil swam over to rescue me.

"Hey girls, he's your fucking brother, leave him alone!"

"Yeah, leave him alone for YOU, you slut!" Lora chastised.

Lil floated in front of me and grabbed my drooping dick.

"Well, it's only right! You can't have him, but *I* sure can!"

Lil dove, and swallowed my cock. Too bad she could only hold her breath for a long minute. She popped to the surface, gasping, breathed deeply, and re-submerged.

"Hey, that looks hot! I'm gonna try it myself," said Dora. "Me too," chimed Lora.

The three girls fought over who would suck my dick next. I took advantage of their competitive distraction to leave the pool, grab my shorts and sandals, and dash back home. I came through the kitchen door and ran into my mother, just off work.

"Hi Mom, how's it going? Have a good day at the office? Write any good memos?"

"Hey there Randy. Yes, everything is fine. I'll get another promotion, and a nice fat bonus. We'll have to go out to celebrate. My treat!"

Mom looked appreciatively at my tall, muscular body clad only in sandals and denim cutoffs. She reached and squeezed the same biceps that Dora had prodded earlier.

"Oh Randy, you really look like a man now. I bet all the girls will be chasing you soon." She stroked my arm, my bare side and back, and down to my strong butt. I felt a litle bit like a prime breeding bull being inspected at a livestock show.

"Yeah, they've already started. Say Mom, can I get some new jeans soon? I already outgrew these from last month. I'm getting tired of looking like a scarecrow."

"You *are* growing fast, aren't you? Yes, we'll get you new pants, and some good clothes too, so you can look respectable when you go out to after-school events."

Mom rubbed my ass some more. "Yes, we definitely need to get you into a suit."

I thanked her and ran to my room to change and cool down. What, have all the damn females around me gone totally sex-nutz? This was going to be a *long* summer.

-----

Like I said, I was no a jock, but I sure appreciated female jocks. I *could* say that I worked my way through a few student sports teams, but the reality was more like, the teams worked their way through *me*. Swimming, field hockey, soccer, track and field, softball, tennis, all those teams sweatily suffocated me. Yummy.

Then the cheerleaders tried me out, ignoring the football neanderthals' pissant threats. Sure, I had to dodge a few disgruntled guys who thought I was stealing their cheer-cunts. Ha! They came willingly. At least I didn't need to outrun a fullback.

Mediterranean-heritage beauty Sophia stopped me as I was leaving campus.

"Hey there Randy, me and the girls are doing some cheer practice this evening. wanna come watch? We could use you to judge how we're doing and all, okay?"

Sophia's dark eyes gazed at me from her almond face framed by long black hair. Her thick nipples gazed at me through her almost-not-there tee. Her ultra-mini was suspended over long toned legs, twitching nervously as she almost sucked a thumb.

Sophia captained the cheer squad. I knew her quarterback boyfriend was mostly for show -- he was more interested in one of the golf guys. Sophia was a treat.

"Sure, I can postpone my date tonight. Where are you doing the practice?"

"We'll be at my place. We'll work up a sweat in my back yard, then we'll all jump in the pool to cool off. You don't have to bother bringing trunks or anything. My folks will be out for the evening, too."

"Okay, I'll see you there." You bet I was there, and I saw *all* of the cheer squad. Fucked them all, too, one and two and three at a time. Life was good. Love was athletic.

My 'action' was not limited to students and family. Female teachers touched me. Cute shop clerks fawned over me. Women passing on the sidewalk slowed to watch me. Society ladies held my arm at civic affairs. Policewomen constantly pulled my ID.

More than a few gals dragged me into secluded nooks in otherwise public places, bared their butts, and bent over for me. Many had to stand on something to get their pussies up high enough for my tall body. I stood in many a street gutter, knees bent, while women stood on the curb and aimed their pussies upward to me.

Damn, they all just threw themselves at me! And I was not one to refuse any good offer. As I said, I am Randy, and I am always randy, with an almost instant hardon.

-----

I had a good life: high school, community college, university, my internships, post-grad work, an MBA and a doctorate in economics, and then a well-paying job with a major management consulting firm. Top of the world, Ma! And no entangling alliances to hinder me.

Oh, I had my usual fun. I mostly shopped online so as to not disrupt too many retail establishments. But sometimes I walked into shops catering to young women, just for kicks, just to see how many would follow me out. I emptied some stores.

I could easily clobber just about any social gathering. But that kind of game was pretty juvenile. I had learned to stay circumspect and not be a shit-disturber. I just lived the ultimate swinging-bachelor life, but as quietly as possible.

Things changed when my firm's super-boss called me into her office.

"Hello, Dr Ronk. Please take a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea?"

If the stern MILF redhead CEO had not been so totally self-disciplined, I knew that her offer would have been, "Coffee, tea, or me?" She devoured me with her eyes.

"Thank you, Ms Weibel. I take my ginseng tea with rose honey, please. What's up!"

The stacked CEO gestured, "make it so" to her assistant Alan, then dismissed the high-strung tight-muscled young man and returned her full attention to me.

"Dr Ronk -- can I call you Randy? I'm Eileen -- Randy, you have a very bright future with us here. Your performance has been superb. You're already on the fast track for a full partnership. You can expect extraordinary compensation, huge bonuses, a company Maserati, and your own luxury stall in the partners' lavatory."

"Thanks for your praise, Ms... err, I mean Eileen. I'm glad you're satisfied."

Pretty-boy poutingly poured my tea and left the sparse office. The door locked behind him.

"There's only one thing that could impede your path, Randy. You are single. I know you have a reputation as a ladies' man, but it's a very quiet and well-protected reputation. That's good, but not enough. Our clients insist that our firm operates with the highest moral standards. And nothing says 'moral' like a good marriage."

Eileen leaned forward, elbows on desk, chin in hands, staring intently at me.

"In other words, I need a trophy wife, is that it?"

"Precisely right. And a very visibly loyal trophy wife, with your own loyalty also on display. You are only to appear in media stories with your loyal wife, nobody else. Your sex videos will not be leaked to the internet. You will not be sued for paternity or alienation of affections or disorderly conduct or any other unseemly behavior. Keep your schlong-work private, and you'll have my desk before long."

Eileen leaned back, hands behind her head, thrusting out her suit-clad breasts.

"Sure, if you insist. Anything for the firm! Do I have a timetable, a deadline?"

Eileen leaned forward again and pointed well-manicured fingers at me.

"This is an absolute secret. Tell NOBODY. You can expect a partnership within the year. You should have been married for six months before then. So, get a move on!"

I finished my ginseng brew and read the wet tea leaves. They promised success.

Her auburn hair swirling as she moved, Eileen's cocked head seemed to indicate the interview was over. I stood up.

"Thank you, Eileen. I have some relationships I need to review right away."

Eileen stood also, walked around her desk, stood before me, and put her hands on my chest. Her jade-green eyes seemed to glow with laser light.

"Oh, who am I trying to kid?!? I want you! I've wanted you ever since I first saw you! I know I can't have you in public, not with my husband and children around. But I want you here, now, in private, all mine! Fuck me now, Randy! Fuck me!"

Eileen pulled her suit jacket and blouse over her head, revealing fine large firm breasts unhindered by a bra. She pulled her suit skirt down till it puddled around her feet. She wore four-inch heels and sheer black stockings held by an ebony garter belt -- and nothing else. Her muff was a trim dark arrow pointing downward.

Eileen bent over her desk, spread her legs, presented her ass to me for easy access, and looked over her shoulder at me.

"Come on Randy, don't make me beg any more! Fuck me! Fuck me fast and hard!"

I would have quickly obliged even if she were not my employer giving me orders. I dropped my grey trousers and red boxers and quickly stroked my large cock to iron hardness. Eileen's pussy was already soaking and dripping. I easily slid into her.

"Oh shit Randy, that feels great!" she panted, her ass cheeks flushing bright red.

I pounded her at various rates till she came six times. I was not yet at the edge.

"Holy fuck Randy, that's incredible! Take my ass now, I beg of you, pound my ass!"

I scooped up a handful of juices dripping from her soggy treasure and smeared it into her anus, working two and then three fingers in deeply. I pulled my stiff prick from her drenched vagina, lined up on her rosy star, and slowly pushed in.

"Oh fuck oh shit oh god oh oh oh holy fuck oh fuck oh oh..." Eileen moaned.

My circumcised mushroom head popped past her anal sphincter. I was in! Like Flynn!

I bottomed-out a couple times, fully engaged. I slid in and out of Eileen's tight turd tunnel faster, harder, using her large tits as handholds to pull her body to me. She held herself off the desk with one hand and frigged her pussy with the other, strumming her clit frantically as she ascended the ladder of ecstasy.

"OH FUCK YES YES YES!!" Eileen yelled as our blurred motions approached ignition.

Eileen screamed incomprehensibly. I grunted and came, shooting firestorms of hot creamy jiz deep into her colon and beyond. I kept pounding till we both collapsed.

"Wow," Eileen gasped, "you did very well on your performance evaluation, Randy. But we might need to have fresh appraisals once or twice a week. Very confidential appraisals, of course. I'll schedule you personally; no need to bother Alan."

We cleaned up in her in-suite shower, fucked a couple more times, then dressed and resumed our activities. Alan 'accidentally' dropped and broke my teacup. Jealous?

-----

I had a new job task: find and keep a wife. Quickly.

My problem was my past. I had a history with women. To me, women were mainly an endless supply of pussy, as cheap and disposable as the condoms I sometimes used. My whole mindset envisioned women as just bargain-rate sperm repositories. But I could not have a disposable wife -- I have read that they tend to be expensive.

So I needed to 1) change my attitudes, and 2) find a non-disposable spouse. Right.

I tried various approaches to changing my attitudes. I speed-read all the books I could find on attitude adjustment. Not just bartending manuals, but pop-psych, and advice columns, and internet pundits. That took almost an entire week. I had deep half-hour talks with various therapists and counselors. But even with intensive self-hypnosis, I couldn't shake the truth, that I was God's Gift To Women.

I talked to biochemists and experimental physiologists -- could my pheromones be tamed, muted, masked, sheathed? Could my babe magnetism be reduced? Sadly, no. Some female chemists were particularly resistant to the idea. They WANTED me!

One interview session was fairly typical.

"Dr Ronk, I cannot do this. It would be unethical, immoral. I won't change you!"

Cute little Dr Ellen Belen was nearly in tears as she considered my request.

"It would be a crime against humanity, a perversion of God's Will. No, I can't!"

She ran from behind her desk and grabbed me, held me tightly, and started sobbing.

"Oh Dr Ronk, I know this is wrong, but I must have you! Fuck me! Fuck me now!"

Damn, too many interviews went like this.

I was afraid I would be reduced to wearing an Iron Man-type suit, acting like a giant condom, to keep my pheromones from circulating. No, I didn't go quite that far. But I ended up with something like it. More about that later.

Finding and keeping a spouse would be trickier. Finding candidates was no problem -- virtually the entire human female population of Earth was available to me, all ready, willing, and maybe able. Any of them would gladly devote or sell herself to exclusively be my sex slave. My wish was their command, literally.

Natalie stalked me. The blond waited outside my door to throw herself at my feet.

"Randy, stop! Please please please! Take me! My life is empty without you, babe! Save me from my loneliness! I'll do anything for you, whatever you say, ANYTHING!"

I was in a bad mood that day. I told her to go fuck herself. And she did. Loudly. With a hairbrush handle. Got kinda messy there...

I brushed her nakedness aside, the same as I'd done with Julie, and Sylvie, and Samantha, and the Grzelewski triplets, and the ballet academy girls. The ladies'
 karate team was harder to get past. Damn, I better avoid martial arts schools!

No, the tricky part was in finding a woman who was attracted to me, who would stay loyal to me, but who would NOT be driven to strip and rape me constantly. Y'know, a wife who could be with me in public, and not commit indecency offences.

After a whole month of intensive searching, I found Yolanda.

-----

Yolanda Branalho was tall, dark, and rather pretty, her finely-chiseled features refelecting her mixed Portugeuse, African and Native American heritage. She had a classical education and spoke several languages. She worked as a fashion reporter for a women's-wear magazine. She was elegant. She cleaned up very nicely.

And she was perpetually surrounded by suitors of all genders and persuasions.

Yes, Yolanda also had charisma, appeal, animal magnetism... PHEROMONES! Rather wide spectrum pheromones. She attracted everybody. And she was very very picky.

I met Yolanda by accident, or circumstance, or providence, or fate, or whatever. Her publisher wanted to pay my firm an ungodly amount of money to authoritatively tell the publisher what they already knew about how to manage their business. That is what management consultants do. We are very expensive security blankets.

I was assigned to run the project. I met the publisher's representatives at our offices, then again at their corporate HQ. And there I encountered their star fashion reporter, the most elegant person in the building. It was Yolanda.




Randy Randy



We entered the break room for coffee at the same time. We smiled at each other, said 'Hello', poured our cups, and started to walk off in opposite directions.

We both stopped, shocked, and turned to face the other. We mirrored our dazed, quizzical expressions. WE WERE NOT DRAWN TO EACH OTHER! This was a rare occurance.

"Hi, I'm Yolanda. How come you aren't all over me already?"

"Mucho gusto, I'm Randy, and I was wondering the same about you!"

We immediately hit it off as friends. Yolanda was almost the only woman who didn't try to fondle me when we first met. I was almost the only person who did not hit on or grope her. Could it be? Yes! We were immune to each other's pheromones! We interacted with dignity. We could actually keep our paws off each other. Such joy!

Waves of palpable disappointment flushed through her office when we were seen leaving together. Oh no, the sex magnets are gone!

The chic receptionist followed us to the elevator doors.

"Where are you going? You can't leave yet! Please stay!"

She grabbed our hands and started crying. We gently freed ourselves and left.

I later heard that the receptionist had renounced the world and entered a Buddhist nunnery. Well, at least she did not kill herself.

Yolanda and I had a classic whirlwind courtship. No wining-dining in sexy dark ethnic eateries. No drinking and dancing in trendy clubs. No dates for theatre or opera or concerts. No romantic cruises. None of that shit. All those meant being around lots of people, people who would only gravitate to us and try to fuck us.

No, we luxuriated in isolation. We dined at drive-through fast-food joints, or on take-out Chinese or delivered pizzas at one of our apartments. Or we just had picnics, alone on deserted beaches and hilltops. We turned up the car stereo and danced by ourselves in those remote locations. Dancing The Twist means never having to touch. We took every lonely solitary pleasure we could find.

We rarely held hands, kissed, embraced chastely. But we didn't fuck. No sex drive.

Yolanda and I were perfect together!

Of course, our sexuality had not died. We were still superlatively horny. I was still randy Randy the pussy magnet, every waking moment. Yolanda was still the most desireable human female on the planet. We were HOT! Just not for each other.

We let each other know how much we appreciated our togetherness.

"Oh Randy, I've had the greatest evening! Thank you so much for not touching me!"

"Is my pleasure, Yolanda. Being with you is just so refreshing, so liberating!"

"I've never been with anyone like you before! With you, I can just be myself."

"Yeah, and we never have to clean up afterwards. Nobody sleeps in a wet spot."

We spent many happy calm chaste innocent hours together. Then we left our shared presence and returned to our libidous pastimes. After two hours of being close to Yolanda, I was ready to accept thrice as many offers, and so was she. We kissed each other's cheeks Aloha, went back to our daily lives, and fucked like weasels.

And very careful discrete fuck-weasels we were, too. We kept our affairs quiet, at least to the outside world. But we each knew what we were up to -- fun fun fun.

-----

We soon made our relationship more permanent and official.

We were sitting at a picnic table in an empty playground feasting on BK Whoppers and staring happily into each other's eyes. I finished my French fries and wadded the empty wrappers into a tight ball. I drop-shot the wad into a nearby trash can and dropped to one knee. I pulled the extravagant engagement ring from my pocket.

"Yolanda, I love you truly, like nobody I have ever met. Yolanda, I'm asking you to make me the happiest man in the world. Please marry me! Be my trophy wife, my helpmeet, my ticket to a well-paid partnership and a life of luxury for us both."

Yolanda cried out, "YES! YES!" and lustily kissed my forehead while judging the aesthetic qualities of the ring. Her eyes sparkled like the big star sapphires.

"Oh Randy Randy Randy, this is so beautiful! And it looks authentic, too!"

"I only want the best for you, baby. You deserve nothing less," I smarmed.

Yolanda held my hand tightly and looked at me adoringly. She blew me a kiss.

Our wedding was small and quiet -- necessary, for security. We got a county clerk and a justice of the peace, shriveled wheelchair-bound nonagenarians lacking the strength to make advances on us. Our vows were ambiguous. The bride wore plaid.

"Randy, do you take this hot bitch as your wife, and promise you'll never give her diseases or lawsuits?" the doddering JP asked, hacking up phlegm as he coughed.

"Fucking-A I'll take her, shit yeah!" I ejaculated.

"Yolanda, do you take this young stud as your husband, and promise not to bother him when he does his man-stuff?" he asked her, drooling over her visible cleavage.

"You bet your fur, your honor," she hummed seductively.

"I never bet my fur. Ain't got none left. Anyway, I now pronounce you, er, man and woman, or whatever you wanna be. Now, shake hands, and return to your corners."

We tipped him and left. He had a hard time getting up again.

We decided on a customized honeymoon. We could not fly commercially together due to near-riots when we entered crowded airports, so we chartered a flight to Puerto Vallarta. We took rooms in adjoining resorts. I fucked all the women around Villa Pancho and Yolanda fucked everybody at Rancho Deluxo. We always met for lunch.

We sat together in a private lunchroom on the fourth day and munched our shared crab cocktail. Bystanders peered through windows at us. The proprietors kept the doors locked so we could eat in peace. We chatted about our honeymoon activities.

"I had great fun last night, Yolanda! Y'know that convention of radical feminists over at the Rebozo Reale resort? I had all the interns and junior editors from Ms Magazine in my bed. Good thing it's Cal-king-size. Yes, they really are all bi!"

"How did you deal with the old bulls who actually run the organization?"

"I just had one of the it-fell-off-the-truck guys sneak a couple cases of fresh batteries into their convention office, and a box full of the latest dildos and vibrators. Those gals stayed busy with their electric toys the whole time. Of course, I had to pee on the boxes, to give them a stimulating dose of pheromones."

"Oooh, wow! Hey, the narco-trafficker cartels from Sinaloa and Jalisco are meeting around Mismaloya Playa. I got to nail all the cartel dons and most of their gals. Don Pedro Putaloa actually has a bifurcated dick. He gave me DP all by himself!"

"That's my gal! Was anyone sitting on your face while you were double-penetrated?"

"Yes, all nine of his wives took turns on me. The Panamanian girl sure tasted good!"

We were having a fine honeymoon. It ended all too soon, after the shootout. No, not between the feminists and the cartel bosses -- they all settled amicably.

Our chartered flight got away just before the explosions.

-----

Back in the States, we lived our usual lives, doing our jobs. Yolanda reported. I consulted. We took adjacent condo flats with a shared room for our chaste conjugal visits. We often just played parcheesi quietly, enjoying our respites from sex.

Yes, even a Pornomancer needs to take breaks.

Earlier here I said, "I was afraid I would be reduced to wearing an Iron Man-type suit, acting like a giant condom, to keep my pheromones from circulating." No, I didn't go that far, and neither did Yolanda. But we definitely needed shielding from the public when we were out together. Our mixed sex hormones were too potent.

Our solution: Bodyguards. I found a team of tall Armenian eunuchs who specialized in providing security for beauty pageants, celebrity nudist fests, 'entertainment' (hooker) rooms at political and religious conventions, etc. They protect us well in most public situations. They have only had to shoot a few crashers.

Sometimes we dispensed with our guardians and just flew blind. We returned every year to the playground where we became engaged. Once again, we sat by ourselves at a lonely picnic table and dined on BK Whoppers. But this time, we weren't alone.

A comely young woman wearing a navy business skirt-suit and black Nikes walked across the baseball diamond and under the jungle gym, striding directly to our table. She was tall, shapely, Oriental, and nervous.

"I was just walking by and I felt you, both of you. I had to come to you. I *need* you! Both of you! Please don't send me away!"

Yolanda and I exchanged glances and shrugs.

"Sure, why not? Okay, take off your clothes and lie down here on the table."

The woman quickly pulled off her skirt and top, revealing a dripping shaved pussy and large high firm breasts with wide dark aueroles and thick nipples. She laid down on the table, her legs dangling off the end. I dropped my trousers and moved between her thighs. I slid my big cock in swiftly.

"Oh yes," she moaned. Her moans were muffled as Yolanda lowered her naked vulva onto the woman's mouth. "Mmmmmmmph mmmmmmph," the woman muttered.

I pounded. The woman slurped. Yolanda wriggled. We all came, and came again. Just another usual encounter. Yolanda and I left the woman lying unconsious. I dropped a few BK French fries onto her flat abdomen as souvenirs.

"What would you like to do now?" I asked Yolanda as we walked away from our naked sleeping beauty.

"I was kind of thinking of a round of miniature golf. I could use the exercise."

"Sounds good to me. Yeah, let's tee off!"

We had so much fun.

-----

That's about it for my story.

Yes, I got the partnership, and good money. Six years later, I indeed had Eileen's desk and job. I was named CEO after I fucked her to death. Well, it was a brain aneurysm, but she was riding my cock at the time. She was fifty, and smiling.

Yolanda's pheromone levels seemed to increase over time. She had to stop reporting on events because the on-camera crowd antics were disruptive. She switched to one-on-one interviews with fashion leaders and movers-and-shakers, many of whom revealed much more than they should. MUCH more! Nobody could resist her, but me.

We have lived together happily and honestly for more than a decade now. We have both been intensely loyal. We have never cheated on our arms-length relationship by trying to sleep together. Our fuckmates take care of our animal sexual urges. Our marriage is stronger than that.

"Darling, I'm sorry, but I can't be with you tonight."

"What's the matter, do you have a bad headache or something?"

"No, a team of touring Chinese acrobats is coming over."

"Oh good, I'm glad you're feeling okay. Have fun now!"

"You're the absolute best! We'll play Parcheesi tomorrow then."

We need our bodyguards when we go out together, of course, like at events where my hot trophy wife is on full display. The Armenian eunuchs are like a steel condom around us. No crashers get past them. Well, only a few, and those are seduced and rewarded, till we cast them aside and move on to fresh flesh.

Yes, this is a perfect situation. Just ourselves, our pets (matched cheetahs), our guards, and our guests, however many will fit onto our huge separate beds.

We ARE living happily ever after. Y'all can be jealous. Bye now.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is dedicated to the real Randy, who deserves better. But don't we all?