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Never Say Never

By: Samuelx



Sitting inside the Harvard University library, Evan wondered for the thousandth time why the good Lord made him. Seriously. As a devout Christian, he never questioned the Will of Heaven. However, lately he'd become convinced that God sometimes made mistakes. And one of those mistakes was obviously Evan Blackstone. How else could he explain how he'd never once felt comfortable in his skin in his entire life? In spite of the library's warmth, he shuddered. For the thousandth time he wondered what was wrong with him. Of course, anyone looking at him would be hard pressed to figure out why he felt that way. Evan Blackstone stood six feet two inches tall, broad-shouldered and well-built, with light brown skin, curly Black hair and pale green eyes. The son of a Nigerian father and Irish-American mother. Born and raised in metropolitan Boston, Massachusetts.

Evan replayed the events of the previous night in his mind. His date with Lorna Odoms hadn't gone well. The tall, good-looking young Black woman he ran into on the Silver Line Train a month ago seemed promising at first but she turned out to be the latest in a long string of disastrous dates. For some reason, Evan Blackstone simply wasn't connecting with African-American women. He wondered why. Was it because of his biracial heritage? His mother Crystal Blackstone was a tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed New England woman who fell in love with Nigerian immigrant Altimas Adewale at Boston University in the summer of 1984. A year later they were married. In the summer of 1987, Evan Blackstone came into the world. Six months after his birth his parents divorced. His mother married Japanese-American scholar Jeremiah Yamamoto three years later, and gave birth to his half-sister Miranda Yamamoto. 

Jeremiah Yamamoto was the only father figure that Evan Blackstone knew because his biological father Altimas Adewale returned to his hometown of Lagos, Republic of Nigeria, after divorcing Crystal Blackstone. Growing up in a blended, multiracial family wasn't easy for Evan Blackstone. Even though his stepfather was a multimillionaire who doted on his stepson and considered him his own flesh and blood. Evan Blackstone grew up keenly aware of the fact that he was different. Attending Saint Antonius Academy in Boston's South End only exacerbated that fact for him. There were eleven hundred students at Saint Antonius Academy, and ninety six percent of them were of Irish, Dutch or Italian descent. Minority students at that school were Asian or Hispanic for the most part. The few African-American students at Saint Antonius Academy shunned Evan Blackstone because he 'talked and acted White'. In spite of his best efforts, Evan Blackstone could never fit in. The White students treated him like an outcast too. So he had few friends and focused on his grades. He sucked at contact sports, something Black male students supposedly excelled in at all levels of education. Nevertheless, he graduated valedictorian at Saint Antonius Academy. The first non-Caucasian valedictorian at the school in forty years and the first male valedictorian in eleven years. He made the cover of the Boston Globe newspaper for his efforts.

When Harvard University came calling, Evan Blackstone was thrilled. For Harvard University was the alma mater of Evan Blackstone's personal hero, the newly sworn in United States President Barack Hussein Obama. Evan Blackstone idolized Barack Obama. Both were born to African fathers and White mothers. Both grew up in mostly White areas. And both were outcasts among their so-called peers. Unfortunately, that's where the similarities ended. At Harvard University, Evan Blackstone tried hard to fit in with the few African-American men and women on campus. The sons and daughters of the African-American elite came to Harvard University from cities and towns across the United States. Some of them were biracial. Evan swore to himself that his life at Harvard University wouldn't be anything like his existence at Saint Antonius Academy. He focused on academia and did really well but also made time for the African American Student Association or A.A.S.A. He was drawn to the club's President, a tall and lovely young Black woman named Sholonda O'Shea.

Sholonda O'Shea was six feet tall and mighty fine, every bit the African-American goddess of Evan Blackstone's fevered dreams. And she came from a good family too. Her father James O'Shea was on the board of directors at Morehouse College in the City of Atlanta, Georgia. Her mother Annabelle Jacobson O'Shea was a Vice President of Recruitment at the Bank of America. The gal was sexy, well-spoken, and oozed both sensuality and intelligence. How could Evan Blackstone resist her? He befriended her, and they began hanging out. One day, he made his feelings known to her. And Sholonda O'Shea laughed in his face. Looking at him with cold amusement, the African-American princess of Harvard University's Black elite told him that she only dated White men. Evan Blackstone was stunned. Nevertheless, he was a gentleman so he told her that he respected her choices. And he did. She wasn't interested in him and as a man he had to respect that. That night, he went home feeling cold and numb. The next day, he couldn't look Sholonda O'Shea in the eyes. The cold mockery he saw in there was appalling. Why was she treating him this way?

Nevertheless, Evan Blackstone continued with his search for the Black woman of his dreams. For as long as he could remember, he felt drawn to beautiful Black women. It began with his crush on his teacher, Madison Albright, at Saint Antonius Academy. The tall, beautiful mathematics teacher was the wife of a Jamaican-born architect residing in Worcester, Massachusetts, but that didn't stop him from fantasizing about her during his final year at S.A.A. or Saint Antonius Academy. To him, Ms. Madison Albright represented everything that he desired. A tall, beautiful and obviously educated Black woman who loved Black men. Something that was becoming increasingly rare across the continent of North America these days. Not for the first time Evan Blackstone wondered if his lack of success with Black women came from him being shy, him being biracial or him being raised in a mostly White environment. Maybe the young Black women he met around the City of Boston could sense that he wasn't like other young Black men. From what he knew of the Black community of the United States of America, they weren't exactly tolerant of those they considered different.

Growing up in lily-White South Boston, Evan Blackstone was surrounded by affluent Italians, Irish and Dutch folks. They were friendly and remarkably tolerant toward gays, lesbians and bisexuals. Evan's few Black acquaintances and friends at both Saint Antonius Academy and Harvard University had a staunch dislike of queers. Evan had nothing against gay people. Other African-Americans despised them with a passion. The more Evan Blackstone learned about his fellow African-Americans, the more he realized that many of them were just as bigoted and intolerant as they often accused White people of being. Evan Blackstone decided to stop hanging out with the African-American Student Association of Harvard University when its President, Sholonda O'Shea spoke out against President Barack Obama's decision to repeal the don't ask and don't tell policies of the United States Military and allow gays, lesbians and bisexuals to serve openly in the armed forces. To Evan, the President's decision only made sense. Although a staunch heterosexual, Evan had nothing against gays. Some of the best students he knew in both high school and university were queers. They had a lot to contribute to society at all levels. Evan Blackstone publicly spoke up against the Black Student Association's anti-gay policies, and earned the respect of Harvard University's GLBT students for his stance for equality.

The President of the GLBT Association of Harvard University approached Evan Blackstone to congratulate him. Terrence McLean, the GLBT President was a short and chubby, red-haired White guy with green eyes and freckles. And he walked with a six-foot-one, blonde-haired and green-eyed young woman who reminded Evan Blackstone of United States Women's Soccer Team Captain Hope Solo, the only White woman he ever lusted after. Evan Blackstone shook hands with McLean and told him that he believed in equality and tolerance instead of bigotry. He also told him that he was walking away from the African American Student Association of Harvard University because of their bigotry. Terrence smiled at Evan and told him he respected him for having a spine. Evan looked at the tall, silent blonde young woman who stood nearby. Hovering as if she was Terrence's bodyguard. Terrence followed Evan's gaze and smiled before introducing the blonde woman. Evan Blackstone smiled as he shook hands with Rachel Denton, Terrence's cousin. And the Captain of the Harvard University Women's Varsity Wrestling Club.

Evan Blackstone looked at Rachel Denton, and felt himself blush. There was something in Rachel's beautiful steely green eyes. Something that made him quiver inside. He smiled politely, then extricated his hand from her crushing grip. Terrence invited him to join them for dinner and Evan acquiesced happily. He wasn't doing anything really. His homework was done. He didn't feel like biking around Boston Common today or going to the Loews movie theater downtown. Nope, he had nothing to do. So he agreed to go chill with Terrence and Rachel. Ever since his first semester at Harvard University started, he told himself he needed to avoid those he considered the 'blue bloods'. The sons and daughters of wealthy Caucasian families from all over New England. They came from moneyed places like Milton, Massachusetts, and Hartford, Connecticut. They were the guys and gals he grew up with, but who never fully accepted him because he was part Black. He told himself he needed to only hang out with Black students in order to feel like he belonged. Well, since most African-American female students he met were cold, mean and downright hostile toward Black men and most African-American male students were egocentric, homophobic and loud, he couldn't stand to be around them anymore. He needed new friends. 

That night, he had a lot of fun with Rachel and Terrence. As it turns out, Rachel was really laid back and relaxed when you get to know her. Evan found her intimidating at first with her height, steely eyes and crushing grip. She was really funny and playful, annoying her more straight-laced cousin Terrence with farting jokes. Terrence got wasted ( typical Irishman with his beer) and Evan had to help Rachel get him back to his dorm. The short gay dude was surprisingly heavy. The three of them got in a cab and went back to Harvard. At the end of the night, Evan shook Rachel's hand and told her goodnight. Playfully, she batted his hand away and asked him for his digits after whipping out her Blackberry. Evan smiled and told her his number. Six one seven. Eight nine seven. Plus another four random numbers assigned to him by his cellphone carrier. He was barely ten steps from the door when Rachel sent him a text wishing him goodnight and asking him to check his Facebook once he got home. Evan smiled to himself and did just that.

That night, Evan Blackstone couldn't sleep. He spent most of the night thinking about Rachel. The seriously sexy cousin of his new gay friend Terrence. His mind race with questions and possibilities. Did she have a boyfriend? Was she into men? Did she like Black guys, or half-Black guys for that matter? So many questions, so little time. He added her on Facebook and browsed through her profile. The gal had about two hundred pictures. Shots of her wrestling matches at Milton Academy. Images of her playing basketball with friends. At the beach with family. Walking through the park with her Doberman. Kissing a tall, Hispanic-looking guy in a tuxedo. Hmm. It was a prom picture. Dated 2008. Three years ago. Okay. So she liked minority men. Did she only like Hispanic guys or might she be into Black men as well? Only time would tell. Evan Blackstone went to sleep with a smile on his face for the first time in ages. 

The next time Evan Blackstone ran into Rachel Denton, the tall and sexy young Irishwoman was coming out of the field house, freshly showered and looking good in a blue T-shirt and red sweatpants. And he noticed that she was packing more booty than most sisters he knew but abstained from staring. He asked her if she wanted to go to Loews theater on Boston Common to catch a flick and she smiled. Anything to ditch class, she said. To his amazement, she went with him dressed exactly the way she came out of the gym. Wow. Oh, well. He wasn't one to complain. He did offer her his black leather jacket before they took the Green Line train downtown, though. He had a hooded sweatshirt featuring Cornell West on it, so he ought to be fine in the fall weather. They went to see Immortals, and it absolutely rocked. Evan was delighted to hear how much Rachel knew about ancient Greek mythology. He was a big fan of the TV series Hercules and Xena growing up. Well, Rachel turned out to be a bigger geek than him. Apparently, she had a Xena battle dress at home, complete with a Chakram. Wow. 

After the movie, they walked through Boston Common and made their way to Copley Square. They grabbed a bite inside the Copley Mall food court. Over dinner, Evan got to know Rachel a little better. The gal was quite fascinating. How many young women could boast of having been captain of an all-male wrestling squad in high school and also valedictorian? Evan found himself increasingly fascinated by her. However, he kept his feelings in check. In his experience with beautiful young women, they seldom seemed interested in decent-looking, bookish guys like him. Surely a gal like Rachel Denton had a boyfriend. Probably some football player, a male model or the prince of some rich New England family. Halfway through dinner, Rachel looked him in the eye and asked him if he had a girlfriend. Evan took a deep breath, exhaled and said no. Rachel smiled and touched his hand. She looked him straight in the eyes and told him he had a girlfriend NOW. Evan smiled. How could he argue with that? He looked at her, his eyes full of hope for the first time in ages. Rachel smiled at him and nodded. In an uncharacteristically bold move, Evan leaned closer, until his face was inches from hers. Rachel smiled, and gently kissed him on the lips.

Evan Blackstone and Rachel Denton walked out of the Copley Mall food court arm in arm. Everywhere they went, people stared. Now, the crowd of shoppers inside Copley Mall was quite diverse, fully respecting the city's racial demographics in spite of the fact that the place was fairly upscale. Yet everybody gawked at the young couple. The tall Black man holding hands with an equally tall, blonde-haired White woman. The sort of image that is striking, no matter who happens to be looking. And look they did. A tall older White man walking around with an Asian lady scowled at them. As did a portly Black woman holding hands with a wiry Hispanic male. If Evan and Rachel noticed the stares, they certainly didn't let on. They smiled at each other as they made their way out of Copley and began the long walk back to Harvard Square. It was a nice Fall day in New England. Not too cold and not too windy. Definitely the right time for a nice walk. Evan took Rachel's hand in his and proudly kissed it. Rachel giggled in delight, and playfully pinched him in the shoulder. Grinning, the happy couple hit the road.

Never Say Never



*This story is based on actual events, though the names are changed for anonymity.  And since it’s been well over 20 years, I’ve had to fill in some blanks loosely but the essence of the story is real.
I was 18 years old, when I got my first office job.  Nothing glamorous for sure; I did data entry for a plumbing wholesale distributor in Orlando, Florida.  But it was definitely better than working retail at the Florida Mall.  I’ve always been a fairly shy and reserved person but it wasn’t long before I’d become friends with the other women in the office.  Looking back, I see that they were more like sisters to me.
I didn’t realize how much like a sister Sandy was until about a year later, when I met Rick.  Well, at first, I didn’t really “meet” him so much as saw him one day as he was walking to the warehouse.  Sandy brown hair, broad shoulders that filled out his t-shirt nicely and a stride full of confidence; not in a cocky way, just self-assured.  It was the first time, since I was 14 that I’d felt any interest in a guy and it really just blew me away.
Being curious, but not forward, I inquired about him around the office.  Sandy was the one that told me his name and mentioned that he was married, with two kids.  And, that was that except for the fact that I couldn’t get him off my mind and seemed to see him more and more around the warehouse and building.  Each time, I just felt a pull to him that I couldn’t, and to this day, cannot explain.
One night, after work, a bunch of people met at a local bar for some drinks.  And, even though I was only 19, I went because we knew they wouldn’t card me since I was coming in with a large group of co-workers that went there somewhat regularly on Fridays after work.
We were all sitting and talking, laughing about one thing or another.  I was sipping a beer and more or less, taking in all the activity around me.  That’s when I noticed someone pulling up a chair next to me.  When I looked up, I was staring into the most sensual smoky brown eyes, I’d ever seen and recognized Rick immediately.  I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest.
After some general niceities around the table, he introduced himself to me.  I told him my name and we fell quickly into a nice conversation.   He mostly asked me questions because, not only was I shy around men, I was somewhat apprehensive.  
I’d only had one crush, not even really a boyfriend, in my life.  I was 13 when I met him and immediately fell head over heels for him and though we never really dated, we did have the occasion to make-out from time to time.  He always tried to push for sex but I knew I wasn’t ready for that.  I wasn’t a dick tease because I always thought that was just a hateful thing to do and I never let him get any further than kissing.  One night he came over and nothing was unusual, at first.  When he started pushing about sex and trying to get somewhere, I told him no and started to push him away…only this time he didn’t let me.  Thinking he was just trying harder, I went to move away and before I knew it, he had me pinned down and was on top of me.  I guess I didn’t believe he would do something I didn’t want him to but I was wrong.  Before I realized how serious the situation was, he had my shorts and panties off and was raping me.  Between the pain and the shock, I don’t know just how long it all lasted.  When he was done, he got up, put on his pants and smiled at me, as I lay there crying.  I blamed myself mostly.  I mean, he wasn’t the first guy that had ever tried to get into my pants and I’d always fought them off so I kept thinking I must have let it happen.  It wasn’t until many, many years later that I realized it was his fault not mine.  I’d always made myself clear; and he chose to cross that line of trust.
But back to Rick; because when I met him, I was still struggling with my feelings about the rape; about the fact that the one thing most women hold precious is their virginity and the desire to give it willingly to someone that truly cares about them.  The fact that I no longer had it to give, and would always have the memory of it being taken by someone I trusted to care about me, at least as a friend, in such a vile and heartless manner.  
Through our conversation that night, Rick invited me to meet him for lunch one day the following week, which I accepted.  He was nice and easier to talk to than any other guy I’d met.  The invitation was sincere and not lecherous and he was married, so there weren’t any romantic intentions.  
We met for lunch, at a local park the following week and it was the nicest time I’d had with a man in forever.  We talked, laughed and kidded about him teaching me to ice skate.  I discovered that he was 9 years older than me, married his high school girlfriend and had two kids.  When it was time to go, he walked me to my car, leaned over and gave me a kiss on the lips.  It felt like electric and stunned me that this simple kiss made me feel warm inside.
For the next several weeks, we’d meet for lunch, at the park, whenever he was not out doing deliveries at lunchtime.  I didn’t realize how obvious my infatuation was until I heard that Sandy had told him he better not hurt me because I was a really good person.  Parts of me didn’t feel that way because I knew he was married but could think of little else than being with him and the way it felt when he kissed me.
One evening he called and invited me to go to the movies with him.  We went to a small theater near where he grew up and it was truly amazing.  Being snuggled up next to him, watching the movie and sharing a popcorn, was so basic yet magical to me.  No one had ever made me feel like he did.  After the movie, we sat in my car for a while kissing and holding each other.  He had made no secret about being married and unhappy so I felt I should tell him about what had happened to me.  I figured, after that, he would realize I wouldn’t be easily taken to bed and that would be that.  But I also knew I was really falling for him, knowing I couldn’t have him and not wanting to get hurt.  I’d never told anyone what had happened to me because I was embarrassed but it seemed almost natural to tell him.
Instead of feeling a push, I felt a pull.  He asked me some questions and held me, telling me how wrong the guy was and how sorry he was that it had happened to me.  At this point, I know, I’m over my head for this man.  Part of me says I should just stop seeing him because I will only fall more and more, ending up with a broken heart.  The other part desperately wants to feel what he makes me feel.
Over the next several years, we’d meet for lunch and evenings, here and there, to the movies; to the apple orchard where he tried to teach me (unsuccessfully) to drive a manual transmission; and parked somewhere, talking and kissing.  He only held, kissed and touched me to the level I was comfortable, never pushing or trying to convince me I should have sex with him.  
One night, we had parked in an isolated area.   As usual, we were talking and kissing.  Every time he kissed and touched me, I wanted more; I knew I wanted more.  But between my shyness and lack of experience, I didn’t really know how to respond to his touches.  
This time, we got out of the car and were leaned against the hood.  He wrapped his arms around me and began slowly kissing me.  As he reached under my shirt and began kneading my breast, I relaxed and did not stop him.  The feeling was so amazing and I wanted more so when he reached around and unhooked my bra, I simply slid it off.  As his hand touched the flesh of my breast, with his calloused thumb rubbing over my nipples, I arched toward him and ached for him to keep going.  He undid my blouse and slid it off my shoulders as he lay me back across the hood of the car.  As he continued working the tiny sensitivies of my breasts and nipples, he leaned down and began kissing my breasts and caressing the nipple of one breast with his teeth and tongue, while he kept his other hand on the other breast.  I was in absolute heaven and I never wanted all these feelings to end.  I desperately wanted to do or say something to let him know how much I wanted him but I was still at such a loss.
And though I wanted to go beyond, he stopped himself before he pushed too far.  Before long it was time for him to go, as we passionately kissed and planned to meet again soon.   It was after I got home, that I wanted and needed Rick to be my first real lover.  He was the one who I wanted to give to because he did care about me, as a person, even if we couldn’t be together for much more than that, it didn’t matter to me.   I knew that he cared too much for me to push and unless I made the next move, it might never happen.
The next time he called, I invited him to come to my place.  It was a bit awkward, at first, because I still lived with my mom and younger siblings but I wasn’t going to be deterred from what I desired.  We went to my room and started watching a movie.  As we lay on my bed, we began kissing and touching each other.  Without having to say a word, he began taking my clothes off, kissing and nibbling as he went and I responded in the small ways I knew how.  After I was completely naked, I began helping him take off his shirt and pants.  As we lay in each other’s arms with our bodies pressed together, kissing, I was elated and scared, at the same time.  This time I wasn’t scared about the idea of making love, I was scared I didn’t know what the hell to do to please and arouse him.  As I lay there, considering what I should do next, his kisses moved down my neck and stomach.  Not really knowing what to expect, I was totally unprepared when I felt his hands and tongue on me, licking and sucking so gently, yet with amazing intensity.  It was surreal to me…the heat that swept up and through my entire body, making me moan lowly and arch slightly toward his eager mouth.   The combination of the cool air reaching my delicate extremities and his hot tongue racing over the same areas was exquisite and had me ready and willing for whatever would come next.  I could feel tingling as I was growing wetter and wetter, wanting more; wanting him inside me, making love to me.
The knock on the door brought us both out of our reverie.  “What?” I asked whoever was at the damn door.  “Rick’s wife just called, asking if he was here.  She said this was the last number called when she hit redial,” my sister replied.  And SLAM, just like that, reality slapped us both in the face.  
There would be no more time for us that evening.  Rick apologized, dressed and kissed me before he left.  I didn’t hear from him again; nor saw him, as I had left the company we’d met at, about a year before that night.  I didn’t try to contact him because I didn’t know what he wanted, if anything, after that point.  A few months later, I left Florida and moved out of state.
Last month, I found Rick on Facebook.  It’s been over 20 years since that night and I must say, he still looks as hot and sexy as he did then.  I have thought about him often, even after being married for over 13 years.  He has since divorced and recently remarried and admitted that he thought about me often over the years, as well.  We chat now and the connection is definitely still there; but like he said, “it’s a good thing I’m in Georgia and you’re all the way in Ohio.”  But we’ve agreed that in the next lifetime, we are hooking up.
To be continued?  Guess, we’ll have to wait and see…..




Never say Never



This is a story dedicated to My Dirty Old Men, bless you all. 

*

The single most important thing to any man is to perform. Now, we all know that perform means, a raging, solid, rock hard erection. Well, what about the old man who doesn't have the luxury of that in his life these days. What happens to the dirty old man that has all the experience he needs to do the job but his tool box is empty?

He improvises. Tom figured it out and I can tell you the man got the job done and then some.

Thomas is a seventy something. He represents a number of his fellow seventy something's that find themselves alone at a moment in their lives when they have time to spend with a loving woman.

I met tom at a little bar in the neighborhood. On Sunday afternoons during football season they would run the games on overhead widescreen TV's and offer specials on beer and pub food. 

The crowd was mixed, but I'd say more towards the older side of fifty, a real nice bunch of people that liked spending time together. 

Tom was there every week come hell or high water. This man was funny, could make everyone laugh and he was a man's man. When he wasn't there he was fishing, hunting and just enjoying life.

The only thing missing that would make it perfect; he had no woman in his life. He had been married for many years and lost his wife to illness. Tom dearly loved the ladies. If there was ever a born flirt it would be old Tom. 

For some reason he would get close and friendly with the ladies but never suggest a date. There were several women who would be tickled to have a dinner date with Tom. I was one of them. 

My name is Sheri; I'm 46, single and available. Now I'm no Barbie Doll, but I can still turn a few heads when I walk down the street. I have always been attracted to a mature man. My belief has always been that just like a fine wine, men only get better with age. I dated men my own age or close and they just didn't do it for me. Older men come from different stock. If you want someone to hold the door for you, be on time, call when he says he will, actually show up then look for an older man.

Tom flirted with all the ladies, but I always thought he had it for me. He used to blush when I'd hug him tight. It might have had something to do with the fact that I was a healthy woman,know what I mean? I'd make naughty jokes and he would look the other way. It was obvious; you could see he was surprised and maybe a little aroused.

This particular Sunday I had decided that I was going to ask Tom out to dinner. The worst that could happen, he'd say no.

I knew I had to make my offer in a way that he couldn't refuse. I made it a point wear a blouse I'd worn before that Tom had complimented me on, he said he liked the way it showed off my assets. 

It was pretty clear that Tom enjoyed a hug that was complete with a nice set of tits. The one thing that really gave him away, he'd stare. Don't get me wrong, I loved it, the more he stared the harder my nipples got, the stiffer my nipples were the longer he looked.

The fact that Tom was an older man only made him a better catch. He was somewhat overweight, the middle of his head was bald and his silver hair looked like a halo around his head. But,that smile, worth all the gold in Fort Knox. 

The hands of a man tell you a lot about him. It was easy to see that Tom worked hard and played hard. All his life he was a gardner. He had strong well worn hands that frankly, I wouldn't mind roaming over all of me. I looked in the mirror as I walked out the door and I thought if I were Tom, I'd take a chance.

When I got to the pub Tom's car was there. I walked in and saw him sitting at the bar with a beer. I said my hello's to the crowd and headed straight for the man of the hour.

"Hi handsome, how are you?"

"Sheri, I'm always good when you're around, how are you?"

That smile, it was a charmer and I was set to charm the snake out of the basket.

"Tom, I'm great, I was thinking how about you and me leaving here and going down beachside for an early dinner?"

I was surprised how fast he accepted the invitation. Inside of fifteen minutes we were headed to the beach for dinner. Maybe it was the blouse, or maybe he was a man who needed a gentle push. I just wanted to make sure that he was headed in my direction.

We got to the pier and stopped at a nice little place that served great local seafood. The time flew by and when I looked up we had been sitting there laughing and talking for almost three

hours.

Tom was a really nice man. He told me he had often thought of asking me out but thought I would never consider an old man. It was easy for me to tell him how much I liked the company of mature men and it was a good thing I wasn't shy or we'd have never known that we were attracted to each other. Taking the bull by the horn I went for broke. 

"Tom, we're both consenting adults so we don't have to play games. I like you, I find you very appealing. How about you come over to my place tomorrow night for dinner, we'd have some privacy and see what comes up." I smiled and winked. He knew exactly what I was offering.

"I'd like nothing better than to get my hands around your luscious mountains of love, but, the plumbing hasn't worked steady for a few years now. I know a fine woman such as you would expect the whole package and I'm afraid I might not be able to deliver."

So, the cat was out of the bag, Tom might have a problem getting an erection.

First, it's a bold faced lie that in order to satisfy a woman a man has to have a ten inch long, three inch thick hard cock. Many men, for reasons that have nothing to do with their age can't get an erection. I wonder if that's why men started eating pussy. Besides the obvious, there were plenty of "Toys" that could easily take the place of a hard on. Maybe he couldn't take me for a ride, that didn't mean he couldn't come to the party.

"Honey I understand why you might think not being able to, there's no other way to say it, get an erection might make you believe I'd think twice about you and I starting a relationship, that's not the only thing you have that can bring a woman complete satisfaction. Tom, you have ywo hands and a weapon, a tongue. The really sad thing is there are lots of good men, just like you, that age or health has made an erection impossible or difficult to achieve. Tom, have you ever considered using toys?"

"What do you mean, like a vibrator or dildo or something like that? I've thought about it, to tell you the truth I didn't think a woman would go for that sort of thing. I kind of think I'd like to try it and see what would happen, it's pretty hot if you think about it. Hell, I could keep one of those going for hours if you wanted me to. Sheri, I might as well get it all out at once. I love pussy. I like everything about it. I could get down there and stay all night. That's one thing I can do and do it real good. Look, I'm more than willing to try anything. If you want to give me a go I'll be there with bells on."

We talked a little more and actually got pretty excited. During the ride back to the pub, I wanted to give Tom a little preview and let him know I was looking forward to getting together. I opened the first two buttons on my blouse while we were walking to the car. When we got in I made sure my luscious tits were front and center. Tom still had a car with a bench seat, I know, but he did. I moved over and sat as close as I could to him.

"You know I was pretty turned on when you said you couldn't wait to get your hands on me, it's nice to know you like what really drives me crazy. I love a man who appreciates, my assets, as you have mentioned before. How about we stop somewhere and do some old fashioned necking and petting?"

It was a definite turn on for old Tom. His eyes opened wide and he smiled like a kid in a candy store. Here sitting beside me was a really good man, who if given just a half a chance, could make me happy, not just in a bedroom but as a steady man in my life.

"Hell yeah, and I know a real good spot." Taking a chance was worth it.

We drove to a little side road off the beach road. About a mile in there was a camp ground, I never knew it was there. Tom said he and his buddies found this piece of heaven a few years ago. They came here pretty often to as he put it "Shoot the shit and throw back a few." Translation, talk and drink beer.

We pulled into a parking space and he turned off the car. This man knew what he wanted. In a fast second he had me in his arms and his mouth was on mine. Tom is a great kisser. He started slow, he kissed me softly and then his tongue searched for mine. I liked this man, and he was getting me very aroused. When his hand reached around my generous breast he wasted no time finding and teasing the hell out my nipples. With the first few buttons already open, he had the rest free in no time. He praised the lord and buried his face between my two bundles of joy.

When he reached into the cup of my bra and lifted out his prize, the feeling of his teeth biting my nipple sent shock waves to my wet pussy. This man could suck my stiff hard nipple like no one else I'd ever known. He had both mounds in his hands now and he didn't waste any time getting his mouth full.

"Man I love your tits; I could suck these big cherries all night long. I don't think I've ever seen nipples hard and stiff like this. Sheri, I'm a lucky man and it's good to be me."

We stayed there about an hour and although I was really wound up I didn't want to give Tom all he wanted right away. He was more than willing to pull my panties off and suck my wet aching pussy till he made me cum. I told him that I wanted to save something for tomorrow night. He gave in and we drove back to the pub to get my car. 

As we were standing next to my car, saying good night, Tom took a fast look around and seeing no one there, he pushed me against the car and while he was kissing me he slipped his hand under my skirt, wiggled his finger under my panties and when he felt how wet I was he moaned in my mouth.

"Oh baby, you are so primed up and hot, I could get down on my old knees right here and now and finish the job."

I smiled and pushed him away; as he pulled his hand out of my panties he grabbed hold of my honey pot and squeezed me. Kissing me hard he knew I loved it.

"Tomorrow you're gonna get it good, I'm the man who can do you right and I don't need a big hard cock to do it. I'll be at your place at seven, be ready because I'm more than ready to give you what you want. Sheri, you've made an old man very happy tonight, thank you for that."

I had all I could do not to keep him there and get that tongue down where I needed it. I hugged Tom and kissed him goodnight. We finally let go of each other and he watched me get safely on my way.

I haven't been with a man for a while. I don't make it a habit of picking up just anyone. I am a lady after all is said and done. Being a lady, I do like the touch of a man and as I said, a good honest man is a rare find. So, I did have a few toys of my own, nothing that you can't find readily available on the internet. To all the ladies, if you search for it, you will find it. I picked up a few different vibrators, a dildo or two along the way, and on any particular night, or morning I felt so inclined, I would open my toy box and find something to play with.

When I got home I was still pretty turned on so I changed into something comfortable, opened my secret hiding place and picked out my personal favorite. I lay down, closed my eyes and thought about Tom.

I could feel him touching me. When he pinched my nipples it sent a charge right down between my legs. I let my right hand move smoothly over my breast, my nipple was already hard. Taking the stiff nub between my fingers I pinched it, pulled at it and pinched it again. I could feel the wetness building between my legs. With my left hand I held my little friend and began rubbing it slowly over my pussy lips. First, just around the lips, then I moved down, wet, I covered the tip with my steamy, warm, creamy fluid and brought the tip up to my now excited pulsing clit. It felt so good, just rubbing up and down, taking my time. I moved from one nipple to the other, rolling them around between each pinch and pull. I was almost there; I found the little button that turned my quiet little helper into a swirling tongue. Listening to the steady sound of the vibrations I rolled it over and over my swollen clit, faster and faster. When I knew I was getting ready, I could feel the walls of my pussy tighten; I put it inside me and with my other hand I reached down, wetting my fingers, with the picture of Tom's face between my legs licking and sucking me I rubbed and rolled over my clit until I felt the surge from deep in my pussy. I let it come up to my now hard and engorged clit and went with it, every throbbing contraction around the vibrator made it even better. I could hear myself moaning and breathing heavy, faster, deeper and I heard myself groan and I was cumming. 

I let the explosion take me with it and slowed down to make it last. My pussy was so tight in contractions of pleasure I couldn't move the vibrator and just clamped down on it. My hand found my nipple and pinched it hard and it just started a whole new set of shock waves. It was so good the pleasure became too much and I stopped, closing my legs together and rubbing my thighs against each other to force my pussy to ride one more round of ecstasy. It was over and I was exhausted. Lying there for a while, enjoying the orgasm aftermath, I must have drifted into sleep.

My phone ringing woke me.

"Hello"

"Good morning Sheri, it's Tom, just making sure I didn't imagine last night. I really enjoyed our date and I wanted to thank you for taking the first step. This old man was just afraid to be turned down. So if I remember correctly you said dinner at seven, is that still the plan?"

I smiled with closed eyes and told Tom, how much I enjoyed our night together. That I was eagerly waiting for tonight and yes, seven for dinner was perfect. He sounded like a young man, happy eager and most of all excited. We made a few sexual innuendos and after a fair amount of giggling, like two people who were just in the beginnings of a new relationship. I'm sure I could feel the blush on his cheeks when he told me what beautiful tits I had and how much he was anticipating spending hours between my legs. I assured him I was as eager as he was. Almost hating to end the conversation we said goodbye.

I couldn't help thinking, how many other old men, could be feeling that sense of being wanted again if they would only take the chance. It also crossed my mind there were many women who could spend so many fewer lonely days and nights if they wouldn't overlook a goldmine right in front of their eyes. I was glad I took the first step.

My day was filled with getting everything ready. I made a simple dinner and made sure the atmosphere was welcoming. My home is very inviting. Over stuffed comfortable furniture, like me, a little over stuffed but very comfortable. It was almost the end of fall and the weather was getting cooler. I opened the patio doors and felt a cool breeze that smelled like jasmine.

I showered and dressed. In the freezer I had two mugs, for beer. Tom liked a good beer and I didn't mind it, although I prefer a nice white wine, but, this was about Tom. I gave myself a quick last look in the mirror; put some nice quiet music on, dimed the lights and lit a few candles. 

I have always been a lover of candlelight and soft music; it calms the mind and plays in the background like a star lit sky. I admit it, I'm a hopeless romantic.

Tom arrived a few minutes early, and when I opened the door he was hidden behind the most beautiful bouquet of fresh garden flowers. He had told me he was a gardener; he must have a beautiful garden.

"Hello Lovely lady, these are for you, from my garden."

"Tom, they're just beautiful, you're quite the man in so many things you do. Let me put them in water, have a seat, dinner is ready."

I turned and felt his eyes follow me; I exaggerated my walk and swayed my hips just to tease him. It must have the effect I was looking for.

"Sheri, you are one sexy vixen."

I smiled to myself, at my age to be considered a sexy vixen was as if I were twenty again, I loved it.

Before I sat down, I walked Up to Tom and I took his face in my hands and kissed him hello. If I could bottle the happiness in his eyes, I'd be a millionaire. We had a nice dinner, joking, laughing and we could feel a growing affection beginning.

Once dinner over and the table and kitchen taken care of we walked out to the patio. The air was hypnotic, the music was sexy and the man was ready. Tom took me in his arms and he began dancing me around and it was intoxicating.

"I love dancing; you get the true feel of woman in your arms when you're dancing. Lovely lady, you feel real good in this old man's arms."

I couldn't help myself, I kissed him, gently at first, and then deeper, I was hungry for this man and I wanted him to know it. He kissed me back, and it was a sensual erotic suggestive kiss. I felt his hands move over my hips, up my back, taking his time, feeling my body, knowing where and how to touch me.

"I haven't been with a woman for longer than I care to think about, but right now, you're all I'm thinking about and I love the feeling."

In minutes we were groping each other like the sex starved people we were. It was more than that, it was passion, and it was building. I took his hand and led him into my bedroom. Why wait, I knew what I wanted and he was ready to give it to me. 

The French doors were open and the breeze blew the curtains allowing the moonlight to cascade over the room. I led him to the bed and he sat down. I stood between his legs and began opening the buttons on his shirt. After each one I kissed his chest, covered in soft silver hair. I took his shirt off and unbuckled his belt, opened the button on his slacks and as he stood I pulled them down. I bent down and untied his laces, taking off his shoes and socks. As I slipped his pants over his feet and looked up, he was standing there quivering. 

The only thing left were his shorts. I let my hand glide over his thighs and in between his legs, I felt a flaccid penis, reaching in I took it in my hand. He started to say something and I just put my finger to my lips and said, "Shhhh". I pulled his shorts down over his hips never letting go and when he was free I held him in my hand and kissed him, letting him know it wasn't going to change how I felt.

I gently squeezed him before I whispered 'sit down."

I took a few steps back and reached behind me, pulling the zipper down. I lowered the dress off my shoulders and over my hips. His eyes were intense, following every movement. I stepped out of the dress and reached behind me to unfasten my bra. I wasn't teasing him; I was giving myself to him. I dropped the lace bra to the floor and stood for a few seconds so he could look at me. My fingers found the band of my panties and I lowered them down over my hips, knees and ankles. 

I walked to him, and took his head in my arms and pulled it to my tits, his hands filled with my flesh and he wasted not a second finding and devouring my nipples.

"Just like that Tom, suck them hard, I love it hard, and yesss bit my nipples, oh baby you're driving me crazy, don't stop, ummm, like that suck my nipples just like that, Ohhh I'm getting so wet, my pussy is on fire for that tongue, I need you to suck me Tom, do it now please, I need it now."

I was on the edge of the bed with my legs wide open before I opened my eyes, his tongue was long and stiff and he put it deep inside me, in and out fucking my hot hungry pussy with that tongue. When his lips closed down on my hard tormented clit I know it was me screaming and moaning. The sound of his lips sucking and licking was like a shot of fire thru me. He put his finger in my pussy and finger fucked me in time with the lips that were beating my clit against a stiff hard unrelenting tongue. The explosion went off as I felt another finger, this time in my virgin ass driven deep and plunging. I reached down grabbed his head and fucked his mouth as hard as I could.




Never say Never



"Ohh my fucking god, you're too fucking good at this, ohhhh god, ohh fuck me, here it comes, ohhhh god, its coming, ohh, ohhhh now now now, cumming now hard good god."

I don't know how loud I was screaming and yelling but I frankly didn't care. I don't remember an orgasm like this maybe ever. Tom knew enough to leave my clit alone and just fuck me with his fingers. 

The intense release when he put his finger into my ass was like rocket fire. I was covered in sweat and delirious with powerful waves that just kept coming. I don't know when but he pulled his fingers out of me and he climbed onto the bed next to me. He just held me until the strong contractions in my pussy finally slowed and stopped.

"Oh my god, if every woman in the world could cum like that they wouldn't care if they never had a stiff cock in them again. Tom men with ten inch raging hard cocks have nothing on you."

As my hand fell to my thighs I felt something I didn't expect. There, semi hard was Tom's cock. I wrapped my hand around him and slowly began stroking him, I could feel it fill up and I knew that this was one chance.

Now I know your all thinking I was going to put that cock in my pussy but that wouldn't have helped Tom at all. This man needed a chance to cum without any pressure. The thought of having to perform, fuck me, was enough to cause him unnecessary anxiety; this was the perfect time for the best possible blow job I had ever given.

I gently pushed him down on the bed. The fact that he was already sitting on the edge was good the less he had to move around and begin to get nervous was the better.

With my hand on his growing cock, I started at his mouth kissing him, passionate kisses, and moved down licking his chest, biting and teasing his nipples. I could feel him getting stronger and finally after licking the inside of his thighs and kissing his ball sac, I went for the main dish. Tom had a raging hot hard cock. 

I slithered down off the bed onto the floor and kneeling on my knees I wet my lips with all the saliva I could muster and lowered my mouth over his cock. I could feel him trembling and I wanted to go slow. Up and down easy, gliding over his stiff rock hard manhood. His body wasn't in any way rembling now, he was grinding up and down in and out of my mouth. This was Tom feeling like a man again and I was making him remember this one for the rest of his days.

I suck and licked him; I wet my hand with the juices between my legs that were running down like rain. This was the hottest blow job I'd ever given, it was getting me crazy. When my fingers were drenched in my fluids I grasped his cock and stroked him. I sucked his balls in and out of my mouth and kept steady pressure. He was so close; I could hear the change in his breathing and feel the swell in his cock. I quickly put that steel hard erection in my mouth and starting stroking. When I felt Tom's hands on the side of my head holding on and taking over I let go and he fucked my mouth to a full mind blowing cum erupting orgasm.

The more I swallowed the more he shot into my mouth and down my throat. Tom must have sustained his bliss for several minutes more before he literally pulled my mouth off him and couldn't move another muscle.

We were both covered in sweat. I crawled up next to him and after a few minutes I leaned up and smiled at his eyes. Happy and proud that he was the man he remembered, even if it was just this one time he was a satisfied old man.

As with all my stories, it didn't end there. The night was young, Tom was feeling young again and I was a young woman in the right place with the right old man at the right time. You may think you know what happened next. You'll just have to wait for the next chapter to find out.



Never Say Never



PROLOGUE

Never say never. I learned that adage at an early age and live it still, whenever I can. Its seduction invites possibilities and its mandate allows us the opportunity to discover many personal pleasures -- too many, I believe, to leave ignored or to be dismissed. 

Including the sensual, as I discovered last night.

I can't say I was surprised to find myself considerably drawn to the invitation of playing willing whore to two dominant, intelligent males toward the end of last night's gathering at my friend Marc's home; I'd be lying if I tried to pretend otherwise. While it's true I possess a healthy appetite for sex and the intense pleasure it brings me, the whole of my experience in it, until last night, has been limited to the standard one man, one woman variety practiced and enjoyed by many. But that isn't to say I've never closed my eyes in the dark and willed forth the fantasy of being used by two men simultaneously, of being played and forced to submit by the combined strength of four hands, instead of two. The undivided attentions of one man alone may be enough to take a woman over the edge; allow her the attentions of two, however, of playing hostage to so much male want, and that edge no longer seems reward enough; in place of pleasure she'll find a need bordering on the visceral, in place of a rhythmic pace of desire, she'll find the chaos of sexual frenzy.

The knowledge of that is real to me now, and carnal, because I lived it and enjoyed it, took a blind step - never say never - and from that single step, found a fantasy borne.

*****

PART I

"Beth, at long last, I'd like to introduce you to James Anderson. James, this is Beth Sinclair, your hostess, and mine."

How prophetic that clever turn-of-phrase proved to be, just hours after it was spoken.

Last night's introduction of James Anderson to myself was made late in the evening by Marc Carrolli, a longtime friend mutual to us both. Marc had asked my help in hostessing a small gathering of mutual author friends he'd invited to his country home for drinks and some lively rounds of business talk, as things turned out. I'd known Marc for more than ten years, having met him while writing for his publishing house as an independent contractor right out of college. Marc and James had at one time been co-owners in Anderson-Carrolli House, a publishing venture the two had conceptualized and built together, and quite successfully. At the time of its conception James, a professor of English literature, had provided the funding for what had been Marc's dream since Marc's own college days - a publishing house, bearing his name. When Anderson-Carrolli became successful enough to begin turning a handsome profit, James Anderson had gallantly accepted his original investment back from Marc, plus interest, graciously allowing his former student and protégé' sole proprietorship of what is now known as Carrolli House. 

It was while writing for Marc at Carrolli House that I first heard the name of James Anderson, and even before last night's introduction I'd always stood somewhat in awe of the man mostly responsible for Marc's successful venture into publishing. As a writer, I greatly respected Anderson's chosen profession of teaching the many nuanced elements of the written word. As an author, I admired him for his dedication in financing and establishing a business serving those like me who choose to write for their living. As a friend to Marc, I admired Anderson's belief in his friend's dreams and his loyalty in seeing them through. 

And last night, as a woman finally meeting Anderson in person, I found myself admiring the sheer physicality of the man more than I'd thought possible. His photos hadn't done him justice; not even the recent ones I'd seen in Marc's personal office. In his late forties, Anderson's eyes, icy blue and beset with intelligence, had flashed with a heated curiosity upon our introduction that bordered nearly on an unspoken seduction. He wore his hair - shot through with the sexy maturity of refined silver - closely cropped, framing a chiseled face I can only define as presenting purely male. And before me, the man's towering stature had presented likewise, as well: tall and broad, commanding, and authoritatively male. His mouth, warm and inviting and framed by a fully silvered goatee, caught the lioness' share of my well-honed attentions from his very first words, and their effect on me when he spoke and bowed to me upon Marc's introduction equaled my complete and utter mesmerization with the rest of him. 

"Miss Sinclair, you are radiant, both outwardly and in. You take my breath. And for this old man, that is quite the accomplishment."

And with those words, I'd been spellbound, charmed right out of my skin. For a woman who makes her own living with words, it is beyond me how I found enough of the right ones to form a response to the man's compliment.

But form one, I did, extending my hand to Anderson with the weight of his curious stare still on me. 

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Anderson. It's lovely to finally meet you. And your compliment is flattering, but its caveat unnecessary. You appear no older than Marc and myself."

The bemused expression shadowing Marc's youthful face upon my sincerely held response - that Anderson appeared no older than Marc and I - revealed much about Marc's character: we'd often indulged in a no-strings intimacy during the length of our friendship and I could read the man - who at thirty-one truly was my own age - like a well-treasured book. He could read me, too; he'd realized at once that I found James Anderson very attractive. 

Marc also knew of my long-held fascination with the fantasy of ménage, and of my affinity for intelligent men. So, being possessed of that knowledge, and with my right hand still encased within Anderson's own and Anderson's attentions fully on me, I found myself quietly hoping that Marc would hold his usually outspoken opinion close to his vest, and allow my private crush on James to remain just that: privately mine.

With breath held, I waited in fear of Marc speaking aloud the question I could so easily read in his bemused expression. He took my left hand, and then shot me a sly wink and just a flash of his charmingly crooked grin. 

So you're crushing on Anderson, right out of the box? Why does that not surprise me . . . 

With that, I sent a look right back in retaliation, a telepathic one I sincerely hoped Marc would heed.

Say a word, Carrolli, and you're dead in the water. Do not embarrass me!

Closely scrutinizing Marc's handsome face for a return volley in our pantomime, however, left me more mystified than fearful of embarrassment, for his expression of amusement upon divining my crush on James was changed before my eyes, replaced with a heated contemplation I'd witnessed many times as his friend and lover: He was aroused. Turned on, it seemed, by some immediate thought known, perhaps, only to himself. 

But when Marc and James then exchanged a private look between them, one deliberate enough in its charge to fire a tingle along my spine, I suspected at once the cause behind Marc's present expression, James' intense interest, and the intent that lay unspoken aloud between the two men presently towering over me in the privacy of Marc's den.

Plans were being contemplated, I believed, for a private assembly of three, with myself at its hypothetical center. 

And even in my initial surprise at such realization, even experiencing the tremor of nerves that the unknown can bring in such circumstance, I felt tempted, rather than nervous. My breath caught and I felt a rush of butterflies, but the possibility of playing out a long-held fantasy with two men such as those I currently stood between, far out-trumped any call to deny it.

The immediate temptation to pull my hands from each man's hold to test the heat of my face was overwhelming, but even if I'd dared, my attempt would have failed. They weren't letting go.

And with a lick of heat firing low within me, I realized I had no desire to be let go. I was standing in a private room with two dominant, well-educated men who held my interest for a variety of reasons, including the sexual. And although the idea of playing the sexual third for Marc and James still roused the butterflies, I was quickly warming to what rewards could be found from the combined strength of their hands, bodies, and minds, from inside this very room.

As I continued to heat from the inside out with quick mental flashes of my own body caught up between Marc's and James', Marc gently placed my hand in James', then bent to my ear, speaking low and deliberately. "I'm going to make some guests disappear, Beth, then I'll be back. Until then, you're in the best of hands; be a good girl and make use of them, get to know the man while I'm gone.

And that's an order, Beth, not a request."

And with those words, the hypothetical had become reality. And the mental images of myself submitting at once to both a familiar lover and a new one, of being taken to a sexual high I'd often fantasized about, were about to become literal ones. Ones I could feel, touch, and taste. Ones that, unlike in fantasy, I could watch with both eyes open . . . perhaps as soon as Marc returned?

Until then, I would battle the butterflies - and my anticipation of the unknown - presently stalking me, the ones making it seem impossible to form a coherent sentence to the man in front of me, the man left embracing my hands. To James Anderson - intelligent, distinguished, and oh so masculine.

And oh so very chivalrous, too, at least this side of the large bed waiting across the length of Marc's den; before I could stammer away, possibly making a fool of myself, the man stepped in and broke the ice and becalmed the silence, relaxing me with his words and his strength in manner. 

"Tonight is your call, Beth, as both a woman and as Marc's lover. I've long been attracted to you, through both your work and my knowledge of you through Marc, and in meeting you in person this evening, through your beauty and warmth. But there will be no going forward with Marc's plan without your consent, you must know that up front. But you must also know that you are extremely desired, and that it is your pleasure, alone, that Marc and I bear in mind tonight."

Releasing my hands, James then stepped into me, lifted his hands to softly but firmly encircle the length of my throat. Maintaining eye contact, he continued, authoritating quietly words that nearly undid me. 

"In the Dominant's language, Beth, that all translates simply to this: You're a beautiful bitch, an exquisite piece of ass. Give your assent, and I'll make you beg me to take it; say, "I submit," and I'll own it.

"The decision rests with you alone. Are you brave enough tonight to declare it, to make your fantasy come true?"

And with that, all butterflies were vanquished, all doubt and fear erased. And I knew with certainty that when Marc returned from dispersing our guests, I'd be ready to address James' question.

For its answer was already within me . . . 

Never say never.

END OF PART I



Never Say Never



There's an old adage; "never say never." I, Jim Sickles, never believed in that. By the time that I was eighteen I had a strong sense of right and wrong. Everything was black and white to me; I didn't see much gray.

My parents always preached that "honesty is the best policy." Probably because of their influence, and the punishment I got when I lied, and the positive reinforcement when I told the truth even if it did not reflect positively on me, even as a child I was particularly attuned to trustworthiness and considered it the most admirable quality that a person could have. In addition to my parents' influence, perhaps it was a number of different instances of the consequences of the lack of honesty by others that shaped me the way that I was. Just some of the more memorable ones were:

-When my friend Billy Thorsness lied about seeing one of our High School teachers smoking pot because she had given Billy a D. He ended up expelled and a civil suit was filed against him and his parents.

-When I was a freshman in college when my fraternity brother John Riggle submitted a term paper that someone from an online paper factory wrote for him. He ended up with an "F" and was suspended for a semester.

-When my mother's co-worker and my home city's most prolific forensic lab tech, Juliet Probst, lied on her resume about having a masters in Forensics when she only had a bachelor's, and in Economics to boot. Dozens of criminal cases had to be re-opened, almost breaking the city's budget and turning a number of criminals back on the street, and she got fired.

-When I was home for the summer between my junior and senior years in college when Mr. Watson, our next door neighbor, literally threw Mrs. Watson, his wife of twenty-something years, out of the house loudly calling her a whore and slut for cheating on him, and when she picked up a garden tool and did a number on his face. They ended up divorced, she ended up in jail, and their son had to drop out of college because they used up their money fighting each other and there was nothing left for him to pay tuition with.

Given my penchant for honesty and my belief that disastrous results would necessarily befall anyone who lied or cheated, in looking for relationships I was interested only in trustworthy women. Being decent looking and always in good physical condition I was often flirted with; but if the woman was a known liar or slut, or if I caught her in fabrications when we were dating, I wasn't interested and either avoided, or terminated, the relationship. I vowed both to myself and in discussions with friends and relatives that I was going to do my best to be honest and direct my entire life, and especially that "I will never cheat on a steady girlfriend or spouse."

I became a machine design engineer, graduating college at the age of twenty one. Two years after graduation I found a woman, Irene James, who really rang my chimes and who had the same outlook on honesty that I did. She had an MBA and worked as a freelance trouble-shooter for small businesses. Our focus on trustworthiness sometimes had almost comical results since we often bent over backwards to admit our smallest faults. We eventually learned not to divulge minor transgression and married when I was twenty five and she was twenty six.

When I was thirty one we started discussing the possibility of children. She first needed to get through a busy summer where she had to do lots of travelling, and I had just come off working on a difficult and energy-sapping project. We decided to rent a summer lake house for ten weeks since my next project I could do primarily from home, and the clients that she needed to service over the summer were closer to the lake house than our city apartment was. Once the summer was over we'd get into baby making mode.

The community that we rented the lake house in was a very friendly one, populated by half year round residents and half summer ones. We were the only renters but were accepted with open arms.

One very noticeable feature of the community was that almost without exception the female residents, regardless of age (the ages ranged from twenty two to sixty one), were very attractive. The active lifestyle at the lake and their above-average wealth meant that they were in good physical condition, and most also had from pleasant to beautiful faces. Three were provocative, although in an apparent fun-loving way. Becky, Samantha and Colleen loved to be bawdy in front of their husbands, who – except for Colleen's – would be just as ribald in return. Their reputation as party animals was solidified when they went skinny dipping together at midnight one Saturday as a party was winding down.

While Becky and Samantha impressed me as average fun-loving housewives, Colleen was different. She had a degree in biochemistry from Cal Berkley, which has the highest rated biochemistry program in the country according to U S News & World Report. At age thirty one she was already the top technical person at a local profitable biochemistry firm; one of the chemists who worked for her also lived in the neighborhood. She seemed to spend half of her work time working from home, and the other half at the company only ten miles away. Her free time seemed to be consumed with exercise and partying.

Colleen was very unusual because I had never before seen her combination of technical brilliance and sexiness in the same woman. We didn't have any engineering students that looked like her at the University of Illinois where I got my degree. She is about five feet seven, maybe 125 pounds, with a perfectly proportioned body including nice sized tits, a round ass, and muscular thighs – not that I noticed. The auburn highlights in her shoulder length silky brown hair provide the perfect complement to her intense green eyes and "Celestial" nose – again, not that I noticed.

Colleen and I seemed to get along as well as any other mixed gender friends in our neighborhood, perhaps because we were the only two with technical backgrounds. I found her husband, Jake, who was about ten years older than she was, to be a little weird. He had less of a sense of humor than almost anyone else in the neighborhood and to me acted aloof. He seemed to talk about money and material possessions more than anyone else, including his prized red Lamborghini which he tooled around in on weekends.

We had attended a raucous party on Saturday night. Colleen seemed slightly buzzed on Pina Coladas, and was bawdier than I had ever seen her, bordering on libidinous. One other time when she was buzzed she and I had had what seemed to me to be a heart-felt discussion about fidelity, during which I expressed my strong views on the subject, concluding with "I'd never cheat on Irene." She seemed to concur that she would never cheat either. 

I didn't have any "heart-to-heart" talks with her that Saturday night, but did sniff her armpit. Yeah, that's right. As part of her lewd act that night, she walked around asking all of the guys at the party to smell her armpit, and then stared at their crotches when they did. Because Colleen is so sexy, all the guys there except the two oldest accommodated her, including me. Unfortunately my cock twitched significantly when I sniffed her pit – I sure didn't know why. She smiled broadly, and then went on to the next victim.

By the way her pit did not smell bad – strong, but not an unpleasant odor.

Jake left early, after Colleen asked about the fifth guy to sniff her pit, apparently in a huff. After the party Irene and I walked Colleen home since it was on our way and we wanted to make sure that she made it OK. She did do a bit of weaving as we hoofed it, enough so that at one point in time both Irene and I had to steady her.

Irene had to leave for a week of business travel Sunday early afternoon. When I returned from dropping Irene off at the airport I went paddle boarding, and ran across Colleen doing the same thing. We paddled side-by-side for at least a one mile loop. I had a little trouble concentrating because her body really did justice to the skimpy bikini that she wore, even to the point that several boat wakes knocked me off my paddleboard; much to her amusement as she remained upright.

While we talked about many subjects she didn't hide the fact that Jake was pissed at her. "Was I really that bad at the party?" Colleen inquired.

I laughed then responded "In my humble opinion you went up to the vulgar line, but didn't cross it. I thought that you were funny."

She looked at me carefully as I made my reply. "Bullshitter,"she chortled, and I chuckled with her.

"But, say, Colleen; what was that armpit sniffing deal?"

She broke into a big grin. "Scientific research, dude; an important investigation."

"What research?" I asked.

"You may find out this week – maybe," she chuckled, and then changed the subject.

*********** 

That Sunday night my life took a dramatic turn. It was about 11:00 p. m. when there was a pounding at the door of my rental house. I was already in bed, in my typical summer bed clothing – only boxers. I put on a pair of shorts but no shirt and answered. It was Colleen. She was wearing only a T-shirt, cutoffs, and sandals, with what looked like a tube of sunscreen in a pocket. She had a distraught look on her face.

"Hey Jim; I'm really sorry to bother you, but could I use your phone?"

"Uh, sure, Colleen. What's the problem?"

"Jake was saying all sorts of horrible things to me so I stormed out of the house and walked around the lake shore for about an hour. I left without my keys and when I got back the house was locked up tight, and he's not answering. I thought that I'd call him."

"No problem," I replied, although wary about getting involved in a domestic quarrel.

Colleen called three times obviously without success. "He probably pulled the phone cord out. I don't know what to do," she mumbled with a forlorn look on her face.

"Look, we have three spare bedrooms with the beds already made up. Stay here tonight; take the room with the included bathroom," I said with a smile.

"That would be so great; I need a shower, too – it's a little humid for an hour-long walk. Thanks so much, Jim," she gushed as she gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. I really wish that she hadn't done that because it caused my crotch to involuntarily stir, and her arms were a little greasy on my neck, almost like she had just applied sunscreen to them.

I went back to bed, heard the faint noise of the shower in the guest suite bathroom running, and soon fell asleep.

I woke up startled sometime in the middle of the night. I felt something stroking my back. I quickly sat up.

"Sorry – I didn't mean to wake you," were the first words from an obvious female voice. I turned on the low light next to the bed. There was a naked Colleen staring up at me.

"Colleen – what the fuck are you doing in here?" I blurted out.

"I'm sorry – I was just feeling so alone, and couldn't get to sleep. I just wanted to cuddle someone," she replied with a demure look.

"Why are you naked?" I asked, I'm sure with my eyes as big as saucers that were unintentionally glued to her boobs and thighs. I hadn't gotten a good look at her the night she went skinny dipping (probably because Irene had her hand over my eyes) so I didn't know that she had puffy nipples – I love puffy nipples.

"I'm sorry, but I often sleep naked – and besides, my clothes are dirty," she grimaced.

"Uh...well...uh...I can give you one of Irene's nighties" I stammered. Irene is five six, about 130 pounds, almost the same size as Colleen.

"Thanks, Jim!"

I scurried up, got Irene's most conservative summer-weight nightie out of a drawer and handed it to Colleen. She stood up and slowly put it on in front of me while profusely thanking me. I did not know that she had only a landing strip of hair on her crotch – I love a bare pussy. Once she was dressed she crawled back into bed.

"Uh...Colleen...you can't sleep here," I squawked. 

"I'm dressed now and I really need some body contact. You told me that you'd never cheat on Irene so I don't have to worry about you not being a gentleman," she whined.

"Uh, yeah...that's true, but it just isn't right. I'm sorry, Colleen, but you have to go to the other bedroom. Please, please, please..." I wailed.

"OK. I hope that I can get to sleep by myself," she grumbled as she slowly got out of bed and sashayed out of the room, wiggling her round ass on top of those sculptured thighs. Not that I noticed.

I had great difficulty getting to sleep, but finally did after about an hour of tossing and turning. When I woke up about seven the next morning I noticed that there looked like some sort of lotion residue on the bed sheets. I sniffed it and it was aromatic. "Maybe Colleen had some lotion on when she nuzzled into bed?" I thought, and then put it out of my mind.

Colleen came downstairs two minutes after I did; still dressed in the nighty I had given her.

"Did you sleep OK?" I cautiously asked, hoping to avoid the embarrassment of talking about her nude entry into my bedroom last night.

"Pretty well," she replied with a smile. "How about you?"

"Yeah – just fine," I lied; a little white lie to avoid an awkward discussion so not a betrayal of my honesty policy. "Would you like some breakfast? I'll make bacon and eggs if you like."

"That's so nice of you, but just yogurt and some fresh blueberries if you have them," she smiled back.

"That I do; help yourself in the frig," I chimed in reply.

I made myself some toast, also had a yogurt, and we ate a chatty breakfast thankfully avoiding any difficult subjects.

After Colleen got dressed in her cutoffs and T-shirt, as she was getting ready to leave she said, "Jim; I noticed a bug bite on your left arm," as she reached for my wrist. As she held my wrist she gently twisted my arm. There was a small bite mark at my inner elbow. "Let me put some of my special cream on it," she said in a serious tone. She took the tube that I had seen the previous night out of her pocket, and liberally applied cream from the tube to my bite mark and the surrounding area. "It will be gone and pain free in an hour," she proudly proclaimed as she rubbed some of the cream on a red mark above her left knee.

I wish that Colleen hadn't hugged me goodbye as she thanked me once again. This time my cock came to full attention.

That morning thoughts of Colleen were hard to get out of my brain as I critically reviewed the latest CAD for a new tractor transmission. Much to my dismay it seemed to get worse as the morning wore on. I had never had that much trouble concentrating when working on a design project before. My cock also seemed to remain half-hard during the entire time that Colleen was gone.

In frustration, I went for a swim, which seemed to help a little. As I was drying off on the back porch, the part of the house nearest the lake, I heard someone coming around from the front of the house.

"There you are," chimed Colleen, holding a plate of baked goods in her hands and wearing a one-piece bathing suit and flip-flops. "I made you a batch of my notorious brownies," she giggled, holding the plate out for me to see.

"I can see that," I chuckled. "Why are they notorious?"

"Because they taste decadent, but have no calories," she chortled back. "They're a thank you for last night."

"Well bring them in, even though they'll spoil my lunch," I replied.

"We can make them lunch," she giggled.

We sat down at the kitchen table, me still in my wet bathing suit, her in her uncharacteristically modest dry one-piece bathing suit. We chit-chatted as we munched on the brownies; they really were good. I was having a hard time not looking at her tits, especially since I now knew that she had puffy nipples. Her thighs were also a major distraction. Maybe as a prelude to getting rid of her I asked about Jake.

"So, Colleen, did you patch things up with Jake?"

"He was gone when I got home, but the house was open so I went in. I was going to work from home today but couldn't concentrate so I baked the brownies and brought them over. Speaking of 'patching,' let me see your arm," she continued, again reaching for my left wrist.

"Seems to be getting better, she said, then asked "does it hurt?" 

"No – no sting," I replied.

"Let me put some more cream on," she said with a smile, again pulling out her tube; where she had been carrying it, I had no idea.

As Colleen put more cream on, while I was sitting, she was standing with her alluring tits right near my face. When she was done she put the tube into a little pouch that I hadn't noticed before that was clipped to the back of her suit. Then she stared at my crotch.

"Why have you tented your pants?" she rhetorically asked in a sultry voice. "Maybe you're re-thinking your response to my coming into your bed naked last night, huh?"

"I...no...well...uh...no, I don't know what it is, it hasn't been acting normally today," I stammered.

"I think I know why," she replied now not just in a sultry voice, but with a sultry look too.

With that she slowly started removing her bathing suit.

"No...please don't," I mumbled. "I love my wife – I can't cheat," I pleaded.

Colleen ignored me. When she was completely naked she brought her puffy nipples right up to my nose. "Go ahead – lick them – they're tasty," she growled.

I really wanted to get the hell out of that situation; I swear that I did. But her aura was just so Goddamn intoxicating I couldn't think straight. My mind was muddled as she rubbed a nipple against my lips.

Totally against everything that I believed in I started sucking. In fact her nipples were delicious; and they felt so fucking good when I squeezed them. Her moans of pleasure got me hotter and hotter. I was barely cognizant of what was happening when she yanked on my trunks. Without removing my mouth and hands from her tits I lifted my ass enough off of the chair that I was sitting on for her to pull my trunks down to my ankles. Once that happened all hell broke loose.

Colleen grabbed my cock and started stroking it. It already was rock hard, and looked bigger than I could ever remember it. She sat down on top of it and started feverishly pulsing her pelvis up and down while smashing her lips into mine. Her pussy was so wet and warm and tight – I started bucking up the best that I could from my sitting position. It was no more than forty strokes before we were both screaming in ecstasy as a lightning bolt caromed up and down my spine as I pumped squirt after squirt into her hot cunt.

The aftershocks continued long after I had stopped lobbing cum grenades into her restless pussy. We continued to kiss, breaking contact every half minute or so as one or the other of us would experience yet another orgasmic aftershock. I don't know how long it was before we finally calmed down. When she stood up we heard a noticeable popping sound as her pussy released my still three-quarters hard dick. A string of our combined cums elongated as she rose off of me, finally breaking and resulting in a distinctive "slap" of goo on each of our thighs.

"Wow – that was one hell of a fuck, there, Jimmy boy," she said with a diabolical grin. "If you're gonna cheat it might as well be worth it, huh?" she cackled.

"You're a fucking sorceress," I mumbled, "a fucking witch. I really did not want to do that."

"So you're sorry that you did?" she skeptically asked.

I could not honestly answer "Yes" to that question. Why honesty concerned me at that particular time considering that I had just cheated, something that I swore that I'd never do, I don't know. When she kept prodding me for an answer I blurted out "Ok, so it was my most intense fuck ever; you bewitched me into it."

"Oh baby, let's go to the couch and talk about it," she whinnied as she pulled me by the arms off the chair.




Never Say Never



We stumbled our naked asses over to the couch in the den next to the kitchen and plopped down on it. I sucked her nipples while she alternately stroked my head and arms. I couldn't deny that those fucking nipples were beyond delicious. She started stroking my cock, and to my shock it came alive. I'm normally a one and done guy. Before that day it was less than a dozen times in my life that I had gotten it up twice in one day, and here it was coming to attention again after what couldn't be more than a half hour or forty five minutes.

To facilitate things she got on her knees and started expertly sucking my still cum-coated and rapidly swelling cock. My mind again started to go haywire. I suddenly pulled her off my cock, while she was still on her knees I turned her around into a doggy position on the den carpet, and in one plunge I unceremoniously buried my tool into her pulsating cunt.

Colleen moaned as I rotated my cock in her tight but well lubricated pussy. Once I started banging her moans became one continuous loud "ahhh," rivaled in intensity only by the sounds of my balls slapping against her thighs, and her tits slapping together. Again it wasn't long before I grunted then rocketed more streams of cum into her energetic pussy and she shrieked in orgasm before collapsing on the rug.

We lay in a spoon position, again intermittently rocked by aftershocks, sweating and groaning. After our orgasmic after-effects finally subsided she turned to me, kissed me, and with an evil sneer said "That was fun but I need to get to work. I can't go home or to work looking like this, though – let's shower; in your outdoor one!"

The rental house did have an outdoor shower between the lake and the main house. I rarely used it though it did seem to have some privacy, one side curtain backing against the shed where the shower head was located, and the other side curtains secure enough that someone inside the shower was not really visible except from a helicopter. The fact that she grabbed my hand and led me out naked to the shower didn't register in my addled brain as being risqué and dangerous.

When we got into the shower, after the water warmed up, it was clear that getting clean was only a secondary motive for Colleen's desire to shower together. She wanted to fuck again, and started stroking my cock. "Uh, Colleen, I hate to disappoint you," I mumbled whenever I could detach my lips from hers, "but I've never gotten it up three times in one day in my life."

"Not a problem," she mumbled back – "suck my tits."

I did suck her tits, the air about her was again heady, and to my shock I felt my pole getting rigid. She jumped into my arms with her arms around my neck, I turned her so that her back was against the curtain bordering the shed and held her ass cheeks. She released one arm from my neck and guided it into her pussy, and we started fucking again for the third time in two hours.

My knees collapsed when my joy juice once again rocketed into her pulsating pussy, but fortunately we weren't injured as we slowly sank to the floor. When my cock popped out of her magical channel I reach up and turned off the water and we sat next to each other alternately cackling and groaning.

When we finally were able to stand we grabbed two beach towels from a covered shelf next to the shower, wrapped ourselves in them and went back inside.

Once Colleen was dressed in her bathing suit, and me in a pair of shorts and T-shirt, she turned to me when she reached the front door. "That was the most fun I've ever had," she said, staring into my soul with her penetrating green eyes.

"Colleen, we can't ever do that again," I grumbled, holding my hands in front of me to keep her from hugging me, afraid that my completely sore cock would hurt if it tried to become erect again.

"I know; a one-time thing, never to be discussed; just a great memory," she said with a smile. "Oh, wait, let me see that bug bite again," she seriously said, again grabbing my left wrist.

"What the hell is it with this preoccupation she has with a simple bug bite?" I asked myself.

She applied more of her special cream, rubbed some of it on the bug bite above her knee, said "Bye" with a big grin, and sauntered out the door and back toward her house. I watched her ass wiggle as she walked away until I caught and chastised myself.

The next twenty hours or so were hell. I was alternately wracked with guilt, stimulated, depressed, and excited when I thought about the three most passionate sexual encounters of my life. Talking to Irene on the phone that night made my guilt much worse, and my cock was painful if touched making relieving myself interesting. I got virtually no sleep.

The morning after my three-fuck day I again tried to work. I kept noticing Colleen's brownie plate on the kitchen table, however, and whenever I saw it I thought about her puffy nipples and snug hairless cunt. I decided that I needed to return it – how Freudian.

I intended to just leave the plate between her screen door and front door, but when I got to Colleen's house the front door was open, and the screen door locked. I started to turn around and walk back home with the plate, but then said to myself "Come on; buck up; you can resist if she comes on to you. You're not going to cheat again; it was a one-time thing. But wait; your mind is seriously being messed with; leave now."

As I was playing mental ping pong Colleen suddenly appeared in the doorway. "I thought that I heard something, Jim. What the hell are you doing standing there?"

"Uh...well...I'm returning your brownie plate," I stammered. I seemed to be doing a lot of stammering lately.

"Thanks; you're a dear. Come in for a second, she grinned as she unlocked and opened the screen door. At least she was fully dressed in a blouse, skirt, and flats.

"Uh, OK – but I can't stay, I need to concentrate on a work project, I said as I walked inside.

The clicking of the front door latch closing was not a good sign.

As Colleen took the plate from me while seductively rubbing her fingers across mine she said "I haven't been able to concentrate either and I need to get some work done today. I have the answer though. I guarantee that if we have one more monkey fuck we'll get it out of our system and be able to work."

"No, I told you, never again," I said, holding my arms straight out and backing away from her; my eyes were unconsciously riveted on her chest.

"I need to concentrate," she replied in a throaty voice as she quickly unbuttoned her blouse – no bra covering those exquisite puffy nipples.

"No, I'm not ever going to...." I wasn't able to finish my sentence because she stuck one of those siren nipples close to my face. It wasn't long before we were naked, I was lying on my back on her living room Oriental rug, and she was vigorously riding me cowgirl as I squeezed her nipples and tried to drive my cock all the way through her. How it was possible I do not know, but our simultaneous orgasms were even more intense than any of the three yesterday; she collapsed on top of me, sweating and groaning."

After we recovered from yet another jungle fuck a little more than an hour later, for the first time in a bed, I was getting ready to leave. Still naked she seductively grabbed the lapel of my shirt. "Listen, Jim; just accept the fact that the rest of the week we're going to fuck each other's' brains out, then you'll be able to concentrate. I'll see you at lunch time tomorrow for a couple of nooners." Then she kissed me and guided me out the front door.

I didn't respond. My brain was too scrambled. After agonizing for another hour, sitting on the dock to my rental house staring at the lake, I resigned myself to what most guys would consider a fantasy come true, but to me was as much nightmare as fantasy since my core beliefs were shattered.

She was right. Once I came to terms with my fate my mind was like a steel trap. From Tuesday evening through Friday afternoon I got ten days' worth of work done.

We did fuck twice each day Wednesday through Friday. Each fuck was just as awesome as the first ones, and better than any other fuck of my life. 

When I picked up Irene at the airport on Friday night I was glad to see her, hoping that some normalcy would return to my life. I expected Irene to be at home the next week, which would break my viscous cycle with Colleen. Things didn't work out like I hoped.

While Irene and I made love – once each time – on Friday and Saturday nights, it wasn't the same. I felt no passion. Saturday, Irene even asked me if something was wrong. I said that I had an upset stomach and a bad week – both technically true, depending upon your definition of "bad."

Sunday afternoon we were at one of the endless neighborhood gatherings that always had been so much fun, but had me on edge since I didn't know how to react around Colleen. When she came up to me with a big smile and hugged me I was embarrassed by my cock's quick salute. Fortunately she then turned and started talking to Irene. I moved away and started an awkward conversation with some of the other people there.

More bad news Sunday night; Irene got a frantic call from her most important client. "I'm sorry Sweetie, but I have to leave tomorrow morning for three or four days," she told me with a sad face.

"Irene – you can't. I missed you so much and I need you," I moaned. While true the main reason that I didn't want her to go was so that I wouldn't be paying Colleen a visit.

While Irene was sympathetic, she impressed upon me how important the trip was to her business. I was almost a basket case when I dropped Irene off at the airport Monday morning. When I returned home I locked the door and swore that I wouldn't answer it if Colleen showed up, and I certainly wouldn't go to her house. 

That lasted about two hours.

I again couldn't get any work done. I was completely pre-occupied with Colleen. Finally I decided to go over to her house – I didn't even know if she was home, or what I would say or do if she was.

I cautiously approached Colleen's front door. The screen door was closed, but not locked, and the front door was open. I heard voices inside. I was about to turn and leave when I heard Colleen's distinctive voice loudly proclaim "We can't market a product that turns people into sex addicts."

The voices got low after that, but my interest was piqued. I quietly entered Colleen's house and snuck back to the den, where the animated discussion was taking place. Colleen was talking to the tech, Jason, who worked for her and lived in the neighborhood. I didn't understand exactly what was going on, but I heard enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I collapsed in a stupor on a dining room chair.

I vaguely heard Jason leave. I then heard Colleen shuffling some papers in the den. Then she walked into the dining room, and when she saw me she screamed and dropped the papers in her arms onto the floor.

"Oh...Jim; you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?" she warily asked. When I just stared at her, as she clumsily picked up the papers, with her hands shaking, she continued, "How...uh, how long have you been here."

I finally spoke, returning her stare. "Long enough; sit down and tell me what the fuck is going on."

She turned white, dropped the papers again, and collapsed more than sat in a dining room chair. I just stared at her until she started talking.

"I developed a substance that enhances natural pheromones – at least one thousand times. I made it into a cream. I used that cream on you, which is why you can't resist me." Her voice tailed off, and her gaze dropped to the ground and tears started to flow.

"Go on..." was all that I said.

Colleen took a while to compose herself. "I applied the cream to myself just to test the amount of volatiles that were emitted from my skin. The values were off the charts – literally more than the hand held VOC detector that we had at my office could detect. We had to get a more sophisticated device. The cream did enhance the VOCs – directly related to pheromones – about twenty five hundred times."

She sighed, made brief eye contact, stared back at the floor, and continued.

"The cream had a side effect. It greatly increased my libido, though not in general; just for someone with complementary pheromones. That's why I was having people sniff my armpits at that party the night before we went paddle-boarding together. Your pheromones were the most compatible – by a mile – as evidenced by your twitching dick when you sniffed me. I quickly gained a compulsion to fuck you."

"Is that the cream that you applied to my bug bites – that you carried with you in that tube?" I asked, a light bulb illuminating in my brain.

She nodded her head. "I'm so sorry, Jim. I underestimated the consequences. I thought that the cream would require constant reapplication otherwise its effects would disappear. But I haven't re-applied it to either of us for a week, and all I can think about is fucking your brains out."

She broke down crying and mumbling over and over "I ruined your marriage – I ruined mine – I ruined our lives."

I felt a flash of anger. That was all that it was, a quick flash. Maybe the fact that Colleen was crying enhanced her pheromones even more because my dick spontaneously turned into a steel rod. I got up, took her into my arms, kissed her on the cheek, and stroked her head. When her tears subsided she looked up at me. Ten minutes later I was in the bed in her guest bedroom vigorously fucking her doggy style while kneading her puffy nipples. The orgasm that followed was the best and longest lasting of my life – even more intense than any other fuck with Colleen!

As we lay post-coitus I had a simply question? "Where do we go from here, Colleen?"

She looked into my soul. "I have no interest in sex with anyone else in the world, including Jake, except for you. Either we keep fucking surreptitiously or we get divorces and get together."

"Will this cream ever wear off?" was my next question.

"It's not the cream anymore," she quickly replied. "The tests I ran on myself indicate that the pheromone levels in my body have stayed at the enhanced level they were raised to long after the cream left my system. The pheromone levels haven't decreased one iota. As best as I can tell they may not go down for years – if ever. If you come to my office I can check your levels too."

"OK – right after I fuck you again," was my response.

"Animal," she muttered as I got her into the Wheelbarrow position, something that I had always wanted to try but never had. She passed out after I blasted another load into her.

*************

The tests at Colleen's office confirmed what I already knew. My pheromone levels were as high as hers were even though no cream had been applied for a week. Colleen explained in detail what she failed to anticipate when she developed the cream, and it made sense. I had no hope that my pheromone levels, or my animal attraction to Colleen's, would ever diminish.

"Will you ever market the cream?" I asked.

"Hell no!" was her quick reply. "I have the formula only in my head, and I have the only actual cream. It's locked in my safe in my den and will never be used again."

Colleen convinced me that my cheating was not a question of morality – in essence I had been drugged and wasn't responsible for my actions. That still didn't relieve me of my basic belief that honesty is the best policy. I had to tell Irene – as much as it would hurt her and me. I had a draconian choice. I either had to get away from Colleen as far and as fast as possible and leave a basically sexless life; or I had to bail on my marriage.

Colleen was anxious to help me. We met with Irene together when Irene returned from her trip on mid-day Friday. It was by far the most unpleasant experience of my life. I loved Irene and her pain affected me as much as it did her.

After Colleen claimed full responsibility for what had happened she left. Irene was stunned at that time. I sat with her, holding her tightly.

"What does this mean, Jim?" she asked. "How can I get past this – how can you."

"We can't," I replied. We both broke into tears and sobbed until we collapsed in emotional exhaustion.

Colleen and I facilitated our divorces. We asked for nothing except our personal possessions and a few thousand dollars. While the divorce cases were waiting for the judge to sign off on our settlements, Colleen and I moved two thousand miles away. One good thing about being a biochemist or a machine design engineer is that you can get a job anywhere. Colleen and I built a new life together.

I had to see a shrink twice a month for a year to get past my guilt and remorse. Colleen went eighteen months before she could move on mentally. One regret that neither of us had was the sex. While over the last three years our relationship has blossomed into actual love, the sex has remained the same; more intense than any rational person could believe possible. I have learned to walk bowlegged, because I always am.

It is unlikely that Colleen or I will ever cheat on each other – there simply is no one else that we have the same pheromone intoxication with; there is no one else who has thousands of times the normal amount of pheromones like we do. However, I have learned – "never say never!"



Never Say Never



Rachel is my wife. She is tall, 5' 10, slim, lithely muscled from years of compulsive exercise routines, C cup sized breasts, small cute round ass, and the most beautiful legs that go all the way up. We're well matched in that I am 6' 2", well muscled and trim from work on construction sites. I'm not much for exercise for exercise sake like Rachel. However, I'm a hands on building contractor and my day to day activities keeps me in pretty damn good shape. I don't just supervise, I get in there and work with my crews several days a week.

We've been married for..., no I won't say how long. Very happily and compatibly married in every way I might add. We are best friends, lovers and soul mates. 

As far as I know, she has never strayed, much less thought about being unfaithful. Nope. I've never strayed, at least physically, either. However, I must admit that I have strayed in my mind, but not really. Why do I say that? Because I stray in my imagination. I have a very fertile imagination. However, it's all in my head and it stays there. I love the thrill, excitement, and sexual tension my imaginary worlds can foster. And, I must point out, Rachel derives direct benefit from my fertile imagination as well in that I am always horny and the tension that is always building in me is always expended on Rachel.

Our sexual evolution has been one of continuously growing and expanding our horizons together. She was very naive sexually when we met, but fortunately didn't have any hangups or barriers to experiencing many new things. In fact, I may have led into each new area of our sex life, but once introduced, she would fully embrace and thoroughly enjoy it as much or more than I. 

The one area Rachel has always emphatically been closed minded and totally disinterested in is anal sex. Anything that has an "in" capability, read mouth and pussy, has a year round open season sign attached. Anything with only an out capability, read rectum, is permanently closed for business. Her attitude is that it is way too dirty, smelly and nasty. Thinking about it grosses her out. 

I can understand that. I have to agree, it is dirty, smelly and well yes probably nasty. But, my fertile imagination can't help but wonder what it feels like to fuck an ass. I can imagine a lot. When I imagine, the dirty and smelly are in the back seat and out of sight, therefore out of mind.

I thought masturbation felt good; and it does. But, having another hand do it for you adds another level of goodness. Oral sex feels even better. Before we married, Rachel moved from good hand jobs, to even better oral sex, to the heaven of letting me enter the ultimate home for the penis, her pussy.

After we were married, Rachel didn't rest on her laurels. She experimented, she improvised, she learned, she improved and expanded her repertoire to my, and to her, great pleasure. Any position I could think of, she was game to try, not matter how weird. Some we ended up laughing more than fucking. Edging, when another person is keeping you on the edge, it is incredible. Her ability to read the signs of my impending orgasm are near psychic. She can keep me on the edge almost better than I can myself; but it is way more fun when she has control. Giving head. Wow. Until you have had someone swallow your cock, I mean literally swallowed your cock, and felt your cock head slide into their esophagus, you have not had the ultimate fellatio. It feels like you have entered another tighter, more active and more talented pussy, because you have!. 

But pussy is pussy. There is nothing better than holding your lover in your arms; bodies melded together; arms and legs entwined; chest against chest; lips pressed and tongues tasting, feeling, and dancing; with your cock deep inside the warm slippery wetness of wonderful pussy. That my friend is heaven. That is my Rachel.

Yes, my Rachel does all of that. And I reciprocate. I give as good as I get. I like to think that Rachel has had as many, and quite likely more, orgasms than any other females in existence. And I plan on giving her more than her fair share. The best orgasms are shared and mutually fantastic orgasms.

Anal sex. Nope. Taboo. Off limits. No way no how. Exit only, no entry allowed. I respect that, but it doesn't mean I don't fantasize a bit about it now and then. I even dance around her anus when we are making love. She loves oral sex. She loves that I love eating her pussy. Nothing off limits there I'll tell you. She likes every nook and cranny explored. Her labia need to be nibbled, lapped and sucked. The moans of pleasure when my tongue invades her opening are music to my ears spurring me to greater depths. She especially loves the long flat lick that starts at the very bottom of her vaginal opening, up the groove between her labia that ends by sweeping the tip of my tongue under the hood of her clit. That little stretch of tissue holding my tongue tightly to her swollen little nub drives her wild.

Over time I have begun to let the my fingers, lips and tongue to wonder around and over the off limits posted territory. One has to be creative when trespassing and not be caught, or at least to avoid prosecution. My finger tips occasionally graze her rosebud when we're fucking. She loves for me to grab her ass, pull her cheeks widely apart and drive my cock as deep into her pussy as I can. When I grab and pull, I sometimes let my fingers grab a bit more cheek than needed and graze her bung hole by 'accident.' Those long slow licks on her pussy became another opportunity to explore her anus. The tip of my tongue starts its long sweep of her sex on the perineum, that exquisitely sensitive area between the anus and vagina. Initially, she would squirm away, obviously uncomfortable with the proximity of my tongue to her anus. However, this area is so sensitive, and obviously feels so good, her inhibitions wained and she stopped squirming and remains silent about the border infractions. She soon grew accustomed to, allowed and expected contact with and stimulation of this area. 

When we 69, we both get so hot, excited and passionate that we become more aggressive in our administrations to the other. I eat her pussy with more abandon and she sucks and swallows my cock more deeply. She licks at my balls while my cock is deep in her throat. I occasionally, quite by accident I assure you, let my upper lip come in contact with the edge of her dark puckered rosebud as I suck at the edge of her pussy and perineum. In this position, I start a lick at the clit and drag my tongue down across her pee hole, insert it deeply into her pussy stretching her cunt with the broad base of my tongue. As I withdraw my tongue from her slit at the lower end, I gently and oh so slowly let the tip of my tongue flick across that perineal body between her cunt and anus. A quick light flick that runs right up and over her anus, no more. She squirms, but also moans at the brief contact my tongue makes with the wrinkled and puckered little entrance to her rectum. Thats the closet I've come to any kind of anal play. I have to say, she does tolerate and also seems to enjoy these forays into the forbidden territory quite a bit. 

But the main idea remains, Exit Only. One can knock apparently, but one cannot gain entry.

I won't go into the details, but Rachel had taken some pain pills for a few days. One of the side effects of the pain pills was slowing down her bowels resulting in majorly uncomfortable bout of constipation. The medications her doctor ordered to help alleviate her discomfort had no effect. After several days, even though she wasn't taking the pills anymore, she was getting more and more uncomfortable. I suggested she try an enema to see if it would give her some relief. She initially resisted the idea, but became was so miserable she finally agreed to try. Having never had one before, she asked if I would help her. I purchased an enema bag at the drug store that came with two enema nozzles. A thin short three inch tip with only one hole in its end, that stayed in the box, and a larger diameter and twice as long 7 inch nozzle with a smoothly flared end. Multiple rows of holes lined the last three inches of the nozzle's length. 

We have a large shower that is adjacent to the toilet. We agreed it would be safest if she were naked and in the shower for her enema. Any accident or mess we made could be easily dealt with. She said it would be best since she would want to shower and clean up after we were done anyway. She suggested i strip down to my underwear just in case it was messier than we expected.

I attached the longer enema nozzle to the flexible tube that extended from the enema bag. It looked like the instrument that was needed to cure my honey. It looked like a lot more fun too. After clamping the tube, I filled the bag with warm water and hung it on the shower door.

Rachel stepped into the shower and knelt on the floor, her cute ass sticking up in the air toward the shower door and at me. Jesus, poor Rachel is feeling terrible, and I am getting a hardon looking at her ass and holding what I am going to insert and shove well up into her ass. So much for Exit Only. However, this was kind of a medical emergency so the rules could be bent if not broken I guess. Can't blame me for being a guy and enjoying the situation. My cock was getting stiffer by the moment.

"You ready to start?" I asked.

"You do it Jess. I don't want to. It's too awkward in this position"

"OK. I'll just lubricate your anus with some soapy water."

"Oh Jess, this is so embarrassing. I'm so sorry you have to do this."

Rachel was on her knees facing away from me and the shower door. She couldn't see my boner and she couldn't see me staring with pleasure at her ass and pussy so nicely presented to me.

"It's ok Honey." I said. "No need to feel sorry for me." I thought silently to myself.

"Oh!" she said startled when my left hand touched her bum crack over her anus. She reflexively pulled away from my hand. "Sorry." she said as she moved her bum back into position. 

"No, I'm sorry. I should have warned you. I'll let you know before I touch or do anything." I said apologetically. "I'm going to touch you with my left hand now. I'm going to separate your cheeks and expose your anus." I said very clinically. 

When I pressed her cheeks aside, I could see her puckered anus briefly tighten, and then relax. My cock was beginning to leak precum I was getting so turned on. 

"Ok, I'm going to apply some soapy water to your anus now. You ready?"

"Yes. Go ahead." Rachel said with trepidation.

I lightly touched her anus with the tip of my finger. It instantly winked and drew inwardly, then slowly relaxed. I slowly circled her tight little hole with the tip of my finger applying a layer of slippery soap on and around her anus. I marveled at the soft texture of the dark puckered skin.

"Ok. Time to insert the enema nozzle. You ready?" I asked.

"Yes. Please be careful." she timidly intoned.

I very lightly touched the plastic tip against her anus. It's muscles involuntarily contracted again. I pressed ever so gently and slowly to overcome the resistance of her anus. Gradually, her anus relaxed, stretched, and opened enough to accept the end of the enema nozzle. It suddenly popped through.

"Ouch. Oh my. I felt that." she said with a startled tone.

"Sorry. Did I hurt you?" 

"No. No. It just felt so..., different. It startled me."

"Ok. I need to insert it a few inches so all of these holes are inside."

"Ok. I'm ready. Go ahead." Rachel instructed.

I pushed and it easily slipped in until all the holes were inside her ass. My cock began a little involuntary twitching dance inside my underwear. All I could think of doing was inserting it where I had just inserted the enema nozzle. I admired how the nozzle penetrated her ass, the white plastic a stark contrast against the dark brown color of her anus. Very, very erotic. Fuck. I wanted to fuck her ass right now.

"Is that Ok?" I asked calmly on the outside, a raging lunatic inside.

"Yes. It feels strange, but it doesn't hurt."

"Great. Ok, I'm going to let the water start to run."

"Ok. Go slowly please."

I unclamped the tube and let gravity do its work. After a few seconds. Rachel squirmed her butt and said, "Stop! Whew. Suddenly I can feel it filling me up inside." After waiting several seconds she said, "Ok. Go ahead and run in some more."

We cycled the flow until she didn't feel she could hold anymore. We both agreed she should try to hold it for a bit to allow it to mix with and soften her stool. 

"I can't hold it anymore. I've got to let it go. Help me to the toilet. Hurry." she said urgently.

As soon as she sat on the toilet, her bowels let go. Water and solid globs of poop whooshed and plopped into the toilet. 

"Wow. That really works. I feel better already." she said with obvious relief as she wiped and dried her bottom and pussy with the toilet tissue. "Lets do it again and see if I can get it all out."

Well, she was right. Dirty, smelly and nasty. I didn't care. My cock was still hard and staying hard, a wet spot had formed on my underwear from the leaking precum.

She reassumed the position on her knees in the shower.

"Jess, please use some of the KY jelly. The soap stings a little."

"Oh, Ok." I turned to go get it.

"Are you hard? Is this a turn on for you?" Rachel asked, disbelief in her voice. 

I turned my head and saw that she was looking over her shoulder at me. She was staring at the bulge in my underwear with a huge telltale dark wet spot.

"Uh, yeah." I stammered as I felt myself blush. "But Jesus Rach...," I shrugged, leered at her ass and then went to fetch the KY jelly. "I am a guy..., remember?" I left unspoken.

"Ready?" I asked when I returned with the KY jelly.

"Yes. Go ahead you pervert." she said with hint of exasperation in her voice as I finished filling the enema bag with warm water.

"Ok, here we go then."

I pulled her ass cheeks apart to expose her cute little anus. It winked at me again as I generously lubed it with the tip my finger, rubbing way more lube on than was really needed. I really did love touching her ass.

"Mmmm." sighed Rachel.

The tip slid in with a little pop as it overcame the resistance of her tight anus muscle more easily this time. I pushed the nozzle in as far as it could go, right up to it's connection with the hose. This should get some serious action I thought.

"Oh. That feels different. Is it farther in?" Rachel asked.

"Yes. I thought the further it is inserted the better the effect would be. Did I hurt you?"

"Oh no. It just felt, uh, deeper, that's all." Rachel said with a queer tone to her voice. "Go ahead and run the water in. I'm ready." She instructed.

I unclamped the hose and could hear the water as it rushed inside her body. My cock getting even harder as I watched her clamp her anal muscle to retain the water flowing into her rectum. Each time her anus contracted, her pussy contracted too. The visual stimulation of seeing Rachel in this position was extremely erotic. Pussy and ass was trumping tits and ass at this juncture. What a fucking turn on.

"Has it all run in? Asked Rachel.

"Um, Yeah." I said as I clamped the tube and removed the enema nozzle enjoying the site of her anus stretching as the nozzle popped out of her ass. A little squirt of water leaked out of her hole before it snapped tightly shut.

"Oops. Sorry about that." Rachel giggled with embarrassment.

"No worries. That's why your in the shower. Easy to clean up later remember?"

After a few minutes, Rachel said, "Ok, gotta go. Help me up again please."

I helped her stand and step to the toilet. Another violent rush of water swooshed out of her bum with more plopping of stool into the toilet.

As she dried herself again, she asked, "How much water are you putting in me? Was it a full bag?"

"No. Only about half full."

"Let's do a full bag. This is really getting me cleaned out. I am feeling so much better already."

I filled the bag up to the top and screwed in the stopper as Rachel knelt in the shower again. "Rach, I think it may have been only a third full. This is going to be a lot more water."

"Good. Let's try. You can always stop the flow if it is too much."

I reached up and spread her ass cheeks without warning her. She pressed against my hand without complaint. As I applied the KY to her anus, she pushed a little harder and the tip of my finger dimpled her anus. 

"Ummm. Please be sure I'm well lubed there." she said.

I worked the tip of my finger around the entire area and could feel the muscle seem to relax when the tip pressed against the center of her anus. I pushed just a little more firmly and could feel the muscle start to give.

"Jess?"

I quickly replaced the tip of my finger with the enema nozzle and it easily overcame the resistance of her anus and slipped inside her rectum. I pushed it in until it was entirely inside her butt.

"Oh, that was easy. It went right in."

"Ummmm, yes. I could feel it slide way up into my tummy." she almost whispered.

I released the clamp and let the warm water run into her ass. We could hear it fill her rectum and gurgle and slosh into her colon.

"Owww. Slow it down. It's making me cramp a little."

I clamped the tube and stopped the flow of water.

"Whew. Ok. The cramps are gone. Try to run the rest inside of me."

I slowly unclaimed the tube and let the water flow more slowly into her body. She took the rest of the bag without further complaint of discomfort.

"Wow. That feels so different. I really thought I would hate the way this feels, but it is oddly enjoyable. I feel so much better with each enema. I hate being constipated."

She held it for five or six minutes, then asked for help to the toilet again. No urgency this time. She seemed to have the hang of taking in the water and tolerating having it slosh around inside of her. The water jetted out of her ass carrying what must be the remnants of any remaining stool. There wasn't any real formed stool anymore. Just a yellowish brown tint left in the water.

"God. I almost feel normal again." she said as she stepped back into the shower knelt down and put her ass high into the air again. "Since we have it out, let's do it one more time with a full bag." she said as she turned her head and looked at the obvious bulge in my underwear with a warm smile. I'll try to reward you a little later for all your good work Dr. Jess."

I filled the enema bag one more time, but let it stretch the bag fat and heavy. Rachel seemed to be enjoying the enemas. Almost seemed to be causing more than just relief from the constipation. She seemed to be enjoying the enema itself. After I hung the bag on the towel handle, I lubed her anus one more time with the index finger of my right hand and cupped her pussy with my left hand.

I gently pressed the tip of my index finger against her anus, felt it wink and then relax letting tip of my finger slide through. Rachel pushed against my hand and my finger penetrated her ass to my second knuckle. Her ass muscles contracted tightly around my finger. 

Rachel moaned. "Oooh, naught boy. I think you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar."

"Oops." I said as I pulled my finger from her ass and quickly replaced it with the enema nozzle. 

Rachel didn't say anything, just pushed her ass against the pressure of the nozzle running up into her rectum. I unclamped the tube and let the warm water flow. I could see her start to squirm just a little so I pinched the tube to slow the flow into her rectum. Rachel relaxed and gave another little moan.

"You Ok?"

"MMM, yes, just fine. Keep it flowing. It feels so..., strangely good. I never expected it to feel like this." 

I hadn't measured, but by the weight, this fourth bag was almost twice as heavy as the third bag had been. It must be close to a gallon of water. Rachel's rectum and colon took it all. I removed the enema nozzle and let it hang inside the shower with the bag and waited for Rachel to ask for help moving to the toilet.




Never Say Never



She waggled her ass, her anus puckered out, but Rachel quickly squeezed it tight to hold all the water inside. Her pussy muscles contracted at the same time and moisture oozed from between her plump bare labia. She was lubricated. Well lubricated and leaking. She was obviously very sexually excited on some level. I never would have believed it. She held the huge dose of water for another five or six minutes, stood up by herself, stepped over to and sat on the toilet. She released the hold on her anus and the water jetted out of her ass. It was clear of debris and colorless. She wiped herself dry, then stood and hopped back into the shower to clean up.

"Wow. I feel great. I wish I had known enemas could clean you out so well and so quickly. You better hop in the shower too. I want you cleaned up for your reward," she said with a leer on her face.

We washed and scrubbed taking time to kiss, fondle, rub, poke and prod all the important bits and pieces, and all of the important nooks and crannies. The mood was set as we smooched and fondled our way from the master bath onto our king sized bed.

"Jess, thank you so much for helping me with that. God, I feel so much better. I feel great."

"Thanks for letting me help. I guess you notice it was a bit of a turn on for me. God I love your ass."

"No, I understand, I guess. It felt so different than I imagined it would. Having something put inside there I mean. So, that brings us to your reward. No better time than now to let you try out some anal sex. I am all clean and fresh, inside and out. I think I know what to expect." she said with a sly smile.

I took her in my arms and nuzzled her neck, nipping and sucking lightly from the base of her ears to hollow of her collar bones. She shivered and moaned with pleasure, goose flesh popping up all along her side. My lips and tongue traced wet paths down to her breasts, licking the areola until her nipples were standing firm and tall. My tongue swirled and flicked around and across each nipple peak. Rachel was sighing with pleasure, then groaned when I sucked each nipple deeply into my mouth trapping each between my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

My hands were touching and caressing her favorite areas. Lightly stroking her back, down across the base of her spine, firmly kneading her ass cheeks as she ground her pelvis into mine. Her pubis trapped my cock and she rubbed her wet pussy along my stiff shaft. I ran the fingers of my left hand along the inside of her thigh from her knee slowly to her crotch. My knuckles lightly brushed her labia as I caressed the inside of her legs. My right hand reached deeply between her legs from the back. I ran the tips of my fingers between her pussy lips drawing a guttural groan of pleasure from her throat. She was wet with excitement, my fingers were slippery with secretions from her pussy. I slowly ran my hand toward the crack of her ass. I could feel her body tense with the expectation of what she knew was coming. My fingers felt the soft indentation and pucker of her asshole. Her buttocks clenched against my hand. My index finger pressed firmly against her. The muscle was clamped tight and resisted my efforts.

I pushed Rachel onto her back and gently kissed my way down her abdomen to the top of her sex. Slowly I drew my tongue down to her hood and gently worked the nub of her clit through the soft cover. 

"Oh god yes, Jess. That feels so good. Gently, oh gently." she cooed with pleasure.

I used the flat of my tongue to move the hood in gentle circles applying more pressure as her moans increased. Rachel reached down and pulled at herself, exposing her hard and now erect clitoris. I dipped my head, extended my tongue and found and lightly touched the depression of her anus. I pressed more firmly with the tip of my tongue then licked upward into her pussy, tasting her tart flavor, then attacked her clit without mercy.

"Oh, oh, Jess, are you sure? Oh my god that feels good!" she exclaimed when her clit was suddenly under attack.

She was grinding her pelvis into my face. I could tell she was about to cum as she tried to hold my head in place, wanting immediate release. Pulling my head free of her hands, I raised up, positioned my cock against her hot wet pussy lips and slammed my rigid shaft into her cunt. She screamed with pleasure as I rammed my dick repeatedly and deeply into her pussy.

"Jess, you are so hard, it feels so good. Please oh please don't stop." she pleaded.

Ignoring her pleas, I pulled back and withdrew my cock. I laid between her legs and drove my tongue deep into the gaping hole my cock had just left. I pushed her legs up and out to gain more clear access to her ass. My tongue now freely licked at and drooled on her anus. The tip of my finger traced up her crack and found her dark little rosebud. I pressed firmly, felt Rachel clench, but the tip of my finger slipped through.

"God Jess, oh god. Gently, please, gently."

I worked my finger in and out enjoying the new sensations as I explored her rectum.

"Hmmm, that feels so odd, so strange, so..., mmm, good." she sighed.

My middle finger pressed and slowly gained entrance along side my index finger. Her anal muscle squeezed tight around my hand.

"Ouch, uhhh."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you." I stopped all movement of my hand. "Do you want me to stop Rach."

"God no. I like knowing I am being filled by you Jess. Just move slowly. I need time to adjust. Everything eventually stretches, just do it slowly."

As we talked, I could feel her tight ass muscle begin to relax and stretch began to slowly pumped my fingers in and out of her ass.

"Do you like this babe? Is it feeling good? Do you like me playing with your ass?"

"Oh Jess, I'm so embarrassed. I can't believe I'm actually letting you do this to me. I can't believe I actually like you doing this to me. God help me, I like the feel of your fingers inside my ass, your fingers exploring my insides. God, it feels so strange and I feel so full. Don't stop."

"Do you want me to fuck you in the ass?"

"I know you want to. It scares me. Your fingers feel so tight. They make me feel so full."

As she said that, I could feel her push on my hands like she was going to poop. Her insides squished and tightened around my fingers. I resisted and pushed more deeply into her ass. 

"Yes, oh yes, that feels even better." she gasped.

I pulled my fingers out of her ass and could briefly see the inside her rectum, the rippled surface deeply pink and wet. The ragged edges of her anus slow contracted and closed.

"Rachel, turn over and get on your knees." I instructed as I helped spread her knees too position her ass. 

I took her ass cheeks in my hands and squeezed and pulled as I bent down and licked her from behind. I ran my tongue around her asshole caressing each wrinkle with the type of my tongue.

"Oh Jess. Are you sure. I can't believe we are doing this."

She shuddered as I caressed her pussy with my left hand, finding her clit, rubbing and flicking it as I continued to probe her anus with my tongue. The anal muscle was too strong. I could't force my tongue through the clenched portal. The press of my right index finger helped the sphincter relax, first one finger, then slowly a second stretched her widely open again. I withdrew my hand and before the muscle cold close, I inserted my tongue inside her ass for the first time. Her anus closed around and tightened on my tongue. I thrust it more deeply inside, reaching and feeling the walls of her rectum.

"Jess, oh Jess, is that your tongue inside me? I'm am so embarrassed. Do I smell bad. Do I taste bad. I'm so sorry." Rachel whimpered.

Her rectum pushed and squeezed my tongue out of her ass.

"Rachel, no. Rachel calm down. You smell like you always smell. Like wonderful pussy and sex and love. You taste like you always taste. Like clean pussy. Tonight your pussy is tart, but your ass tastes like salty pussy. You're clean and smell and taste wonderful."

"Really?" 

"Really." I reassured her as I resumed caressing her pussy, flicking her clit and resumed eating her ass. This time when I pressed with my tongue, she bore down a little which relaxed her sphincter and my tongue slipped in. I licked and played with her asshole and listened to her moan with pleasure as I fucked her rectum with my tongue.

"That feels so good Jess. I can't believe I'm saying that, but it does, god help me, don't stop."

I could feel little contractions start to build in her pussy and rectum. I could tell her orgasm was building.

"Rachel, I want to be inside you when you orgasm. I want to feel your ass contract and twitch and grip my cock when you cum. I want to fuck your ass with my cock."

"I'm close, so close."

I licked and drooled on her anus, got on my knees and pressed the head of my cock against her dark asshole. I gently pushed my finger inside her, slowly stretching an opening for my rigid cock. First the tip of one finger, then the tip of a second finger, then the tip of a third finger.

"Owe, that hurts, go slowly, oh god, will you fit? I don't think I can hold you."

I pushed firmly and slowly expanded and stretched her ass getting all three fingers inserted to the first knuckle. This was the most widely stretched her ass had been up to this point. I withdrew my fingers and quickly pressed the head of my cock against her stretched asshole knowing I could now get the head inside. My purple head popped through and disappeared inside her body.

"Ooooo. Owe. Jess, Jess, wait, your too big."

I kept steady pressure on her ass, the ring of muscle slowly expanded and gave way. Little by little my shaft gained entrance and slowly slid into her ass. The lining of her rectum tightly caressing my cock with a grip I'd never experienced before.

"Rachel, uhhnn, god you feel so good. Your ass is wonderful. Your ass feels so fucking good." I groaned.

"Oh, oh, ah, Jess you are filling me, I can feel you inside me, way up inside of me. It feels so good. Fuck me. Get all of your cock in me. I want to feel you all the way in."

Slowly, inch by inch my cock disappeared inside Rachel's beautiful ass until my balls pressed against her pussy and I could advance no further.

"I can feel you in my tummy. I can feel your cock way up inside and I can feel you twitch and move inside me." Rachel said in awe. "My god, you're inside my ass." she said incredulously. 

"And now I am going to fuck your ass Rachel. I am going to pump my cock in and out of your butt. You're going to feel me fill you with my cum." I said as I worked her clit and started to slowly fuck her in the ass. 

Her asshole and rectum tightly sheathed my cock. I pumped faster and faster as I listened to Rachel's moans and felt her rectum contract and tightly try to squeeze my cock out of her body. She could feel it too. 

"Don't stop. Don't stop." She screamed. "I want you deep inside of me. I want you to cum and fill my ass up with your sperm."

I fucked her ass faster and faster, pressing as deeply as my cock could reach.

"I'm cuming Jess, I'm cuming." Rachel groaned as I felt her orgasm rack her body and felt the incredibly strong contractions of her ass as it gripped and pressed my cock, pushing me over the edge. I climaxed, the orgasm washing over me in waves as my cock exploded and pumped jets of sperm into Rachel's tight ass.

Rachel reached back and grabbed the exposed part of my dick and followed my thrusts, her hand slamming into her ass, feeling my cock contract and spew sperm inside her body.

"Fill me up Jess. I love how your cock feels in my ass. Fuck my ass, Fuck me hard. Shove it deep inside me." she said as she removed her hand and I slammed it deeply home one more time and then collapsed beside her on the bed, my cock still deeply pressed inside her ass.

"God that was intensely good for me I said breathlessly. That felt so fucking incredibly good."

"Hmmm, I liked it too." Rachel said timidly.

"Liked? is that all?"

"Ok. I loved it. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Only if you really did."

"I did. I really did. I'm just embarrassed and ashamed. I didn't think I would and I did. I loved everything about it. Especially when you stuffed me with your cock. I loved the feeling of being full of you. You way up inside of me. Fucking me over and over, feeling your balls slapping my pussy.

We were spooned, my cock still inside Rachel's ass. I was getting soft. I pulled back a little, spread Rachel's ass cheeks so I could see myself as her rectum steadily squeezed my cock out of her beautiful butt. My cock fell out and globs of white cum dribbled out of her still stretched asshole.

Wow. The sight of her still open asshole, my cum dripping out and running across her bare pussy lips. I could feel another erection coming on.

"Rachel? How do you feel about another round?"