5 comments/ 46975 views/ 14 favorites Heaven By: notabutch First of all, my description is in the story "I thought she was straight". First paragraph. Second, where I live, there are no rules at strip clubs. People can touch the strippers and very, very often do. The strippers can also get totally naked, which almost all strippers do. I'd like to say that when I'm sober, the thought of going to a strip club doesn't really appeal to me. I know, it sounds like denial, but right now (I'm sober at the moment) I would never pay anyone to let me grope their boobs or whatever the stripper decides. I can get more than that for free, and all you end up doing is losing your money and your dignity. That said, one night me and my friends got really wasted and went to a strip club. This is partially what I remember and partially what my friend who was completely sober at the time told me. This story actually is kind of romantic, if you overlook the circumstances of how we met. It involves love anyway. So there we were, most of us drunk off our asses, sitting up at the bar by the stage. The group consisted of 5 guys, me, and a straight girl. After a while, the DJ announced a stripper named Heaven and started playing a reggae song. I remember someone saying that it wasn't the type of song you'd associate with stripping, and then everyone went dead silent when the stripper came up on stage. She was so, so hot. She's the kind of girl that if you saw on the street, you just stop whatever you're doing and stare at her because you can't help it and you can't think about anything else until she leaves. Everyone I looked at literally had their mouths hanging open. She was an island girl, with a nice, petite body. She had long, dark, straight hair and just an absolutely gorgeous face and eyes that I actually lost myself in. Before that night, I thought that was just a phrase but it happened with her. I seriously couldn't find anything wrong with her appearance, and I tried just to see if I could do it. Later on, everyone in the group agreed that she was the hottest stripper they'd ever seen, and probably one of the hottest girls they'd ever seen period. She was just really, really beautiful. I almost reverted back to being sober because of her hotness. She wasn't a stereotypical stripper, though, she didn't seem trashy or anything. If I had seen her at the mall, I would have never thought, "Yeah she's a stripper." She didn't seem innocent, exactly, just like she wasn't easy. At one point in the middle of her dancing, out of nowhere she just came up to me and asked me my name. I don't really remember, I think she said, "Hi, what's your name?" "Michelle." At this point one of my more intoxicated friends said, "Yeahhh right" and laughed, I guess he was trying to fuck with her, or me, or both. I think she said her name and she shook my hand right there on stage, then she said, "You're really pretty." I just laughed and said, "Thanks, so are you!" and at this point the friend that earlier had said "Yeah right" decided that it was time to put up a dollar for me. She smiled, then looked at me with this, "Don't freak out" expression, then asked timidly if she could see my boobs. I must have given her a weird look or something because she said, "I'm sorry, they just look so perfect." I was like, "Oh well in that case..." and she lowered my black mesh semi-see thru shirt down so my breasts were on display for everyone in the club. She licked and sucked on my nipples for a really long time, then she unzipped my jeans and stuck the dollar in there. I said something like, "I've never done this before, at a strip club" and she gave me a weird look and said, "Really?" as if everyone did it. Then she totally ignored the dollar that was in my zipper and went down on me through my jeans. I don't remember much of what she did, she took my whole pussy in my mouth and sort of closed her mouth over it and massaged it with her lips. I remember it felt really good, which said something because when I'm drunk, my whole body goes numb. I can't feel a damn thing. A lot of these stories on literotica start out like, "This one time, me and my friend got really drunk and then..." and they have fantastic sex with intense orgasms. That has never happened to me. Drunk sex has always sucked, up until then. After maybe 5 minutes, she actually thanked me and then went back to her dancing. My sober friend put up a dollar for the straight girl that was with us, to her total surprise. She's actually very pretty, and maybe if she wasn't straight and if we had become friends under different circumstances there would be chemistry, but the way we are, there just isn't. I thought it was hilarious when Heaven took Jody's hands and put them on her breasts. My friend seemed at a loss for what to do, since as far as I know it was the first time she'd ever felt up another girl. The expression on her face was priceless, I wish they allowed cameras in there. I have this bra that a different stripper had thrown at my head several months ago, and she said I could keep it. It stayed in my purse that whole time, since I had no idea what to do with it. I wasn't going to wear it, and I didn't want to give it to a friend, so when my friend said, "Throw the bra at her!" it seemed like a really good idea at the time. I did just that, and she laughed and looked at me and said, "Was that you?" She hung the bra up on a railing on the ceiling and told me to get it. After some encouraging from my friends and the other patrons at the club, I got up on stage. She grabbed me and shoved my back against the pole, then yanked my shirt up above so it was above my chest, and she pulled my jeans down and proceeded to go down on me through my thong right there on stage. I was too drunk to object, but I know I kept this continuous stream of talk about how this is really not a good idea, oh my god what am I doing here, stuff like that. She just laughed and went back to humming on my clit. She finally stopped after maybe 3 or 4 minutes about because the DJ said, and I think these were his exact words, "I hate to interrupt the show, but that's the end of her set. By the way, there are private rooms in the back." That was the only time he'd mentioned anything about private rooms that whole night. My friends thought they would like for me to get a private room with everyone's favorite dancer. They all pooled together $60 for 3 songs, but made me go and ask for her after she got off stage. I went up to her and said that I'd like to have a private room with her. She gave me this really huge smile and sort of jumped up and down. "So I'm your favorite stripper?" she squealed. I hadn't really thought about it, and this question was pretty much the last one I expected her to ask. I just told her yes, because I guess she was, and she made some sort of happy noise and hugged me really hard. She took my money and put it in the register, then took my hand and led me to one of the back rooms that I hadn't noticed before. Inside, there was a loveseat and a table with a lamp on it. The room seemed red to me, but maybe I was just wasted. She then took off all her clothes, which she hadn't done during her act on stage, unlike every other stripper there. I sat down on the loveseat and she sat on my lap naked, straddling me. And then we talked. For the entire three songs. With nothing sexual happening at all, except that she was naked and straddling me. I don't remember many specifics, just that we talked about our backgrounds. She did ask me if I was straight, though. "What? Are you serious?" I said. I then clarified that I was a lesbian. She said something like, "I used to be a lesbian, I went out with a girl for two years. But then we broke up because I also started wanting this other guy that I'd broken up with before her. They said I had to pick one of them, but I just wanted to love both of them, but they didn't, so I married the guy." She said that I could be straight if I wanted to though, I was pretty enough. And I had a nice body. That's all I remember of our conversation, but I do remember when it was time to go, she got up and started acting sort of pissed. I didn't know what was wrong, so I just got out of there as fast as I could. It occurred to me a few days later, "Oh shit. I was supposed to tip her, wasn't I?" She'd wasted a pretty good chunk of her time with me which she could have used to earn more money. I mean, I felt kind of cheated since when I imagined what went on in the private rooms, talking was never really a part of it, but she still deserved a tip for her time. Even though spending $60 for 10 minutes of talking was ridiculous, but hey, it wasn't my money. The next Thursday night, I threw a party and everybody got really wasted and/or stoned. I was the latter, and I decided that I would go to the strip club and give her her tip. When she came over to me, she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, then I told her I wanted to give her the tip. Being stoned, I didn't realize that I didn't have money (I had spent all of my cash on weed) until I took out my wallet to give it to her. I apologized profusely, then she said that I could take her out for dinner as payment, but it would have to be an expensive Japanese restaurant. (Her "tip" later added up to $40). Now even as stoned as I was, I realized what was going on here. Up until now, I figured she had just been hitting on me to get more money out of me. I still agreed to do it, if only to be seen in public with someone as beautiful as her. I also felt really guilty. That Saturday night we met in the lobby of the hotel where the restaurant is. She'd managed to get the night off, which she later told me was a big deal since Saturday nights are very profitable. She was dressed in a tight red halter top dress, black stilettos, and dangly silver earrings. Red wasn't her color, but she still got us free food from the guy who does the reservations while we were waiting for our table. She turned heads everywhere, and I felt sort of proud that it was me, not them, that was with her that night. Even though this was the first time I hadn't been under the influence of something in her presence, I was still intoxicated by her presence. She still seemed to like me, but I can't imagine why since I was acting like a total idiot around her. I won't even go into details about our conversation that night, it's too embarrassing, but I guess I did well enough for her to want to hang out with me more. She suggested we buy ice cream at a grocery store and sit on the beach. I couldn't believe this girl, she ate whatever the hell she wanted and as much as she wanted and still had a really nice body. I alternated between being jealous of her and wanting her, although she said the exact same thing to me once. We sat on the beach eating ice cream until we couldn't eat anymore, so we gave it to a transvestite prostitute that was looking for business on the beach, of all places. Apparently that beach is the place to go if you're looking for that kind of thing, but I didn't know that until later. We declined his/her offer to go skinny dipping with him/her, and we ended up talking (me and Heaven, minus the transvestite prostitute) until the sun came up. We watched the sun rise over the ocean and listened to the waves lapping against the sand, then she took my face and looked into my eyes, then very gently kissed me. It was the most tender, beautiful, loving moment of my life. Yeah, I know it's really cliché. Shut up. We decided that we better get home and we made another date for the next weekend, but during the afternoon this time. This went on for a while, us going on dates and her kissing me softly at the end of each date, while we both fell more and more in love. One day when we were driving somewhere, this song that goes "Cuz I'm in love with a stripperrrr" came on. (I hate that song. That one line always, always gets stuck in my head. I just got it stuck in my head by typing it. Good job, Michelle). Anyway, I sang that one line and she looked at me funny. She said, "Really?" I looked at her as well as I could while I was driving, and said, "Well, actually, sort of, um, yeah. Yeah." She smiled and said, "I wish I could sing you a song." Then she sang along to that song, except it was "I'm in love with Michellllle" which made us laugh. She's really a horrible singer, so I said that that was good enough, she didn't need to sing me a song. We both laughed again, then it hit me what she'd said. "What?" Probably not the most intelligent thing I could have said right then. "I'm in love with Michelle." "What?" "I'm in love with Michelle." "What? I didn't quite hear you." "I'm in love with Michelle." She was starting to get annoyed. I was grinning by now and I said, "Say it again." She caught on and grinned back, saying, "I'm in love with Michelle. I'm in love with Michelle!" She rolled down her window and yelled at a passing dog, "I'm in love with Michelle, bitch!" The dog looked at her and continued peeing against an old tire. Then she looked at me and said seriously, "I love you." I didn't say anything, but I couldn't help but smile as I drove to the beach where we first ate that ice cream. I always keep some stuff in my trunk just for times like this, and I took out a couple towels and led her by the hand to the same spot where we were that first time. I think she was getting nervous, since this had been by far the longest silence we'd ever had between us unless we were watching a movie, so as I spread out the towels and we sat down on them, she asked me what I was thinking about. "Your husband," I told her. She was silent for a long time, and I looked over at her. Her face was in profile, and the moonlight made her face glow, but not in a weird, creepy way. I instantly felt a rush of desire sweep over me, but then she said, "Yeah, that's a problem. I do love you, but I still love him too. This is the second time I've done this. Fuck." Then she started crying. This was the first time I'd ever seen her cry, and I never really know what to do when somebody cries. After an awkward moment, I put my arms around her and just held her. She buried her face in my shoulder and cried, it could have been for an eternity or it could have been for a minute. This was the closest contact we'd ever had, except for that first night at the strip club. Like I said, she wasn't easy. She took things very slow. Some people look horrible when they cry, but she looked exactly the same (meaning Miss Universe material, no exaggeration whatsoever), only with tears. I started kissing her cheeks, kissing her tears away, and after a while they stopped. I started to kiss her cheek again, but she turned her head and my lips met hers instead. Her lips were so soft and warm, and a little salty from her crying. We kissed like that for a while, holding each other and just reveling in the tenderness of the moment but soon we needed more. My tongue traced along the lines of her lips as I sucked first her bottom, then her upper lip into my mouth and nibbled a bit. She sighed and I slipped my tongue into her mouth, our tongues slowly exploring each other's taste and feel. My hands caressed her back and the sides of her breasts. Before this, when I'd lay in bed and imagine what our first time would be like, I'd imagined that it would be hard and fast after all this time of wanting her, but it wasn't at all. It was very gentle and slow. As much as I dislike this term, we were making love, not having sex or fucking. I put my weight on her until she was laying down under me, and our tongues played with each other and her hands moved all over my back, massaging and rubbing it with her fingers, then moving down to my ass and hips. She pulled my shirt off, sliding her fingers underneath the straps of my bra and caressing my shoulders and upper arms but not taking the bra off. I did the same to her, then I got up and we both took off our shoes and jeans. I got back on top of her and we made out for a while like that, our hands slowly exploring each other's bodies. She unclasped my bra, then slid the straps down, her fingers trailing down my shoulders and arms until the bra came off. I kissed her neck as I removed her bra, and I could feel her nipples poking into my breasts as she sensuously ground her hips against mine through both of our thongs. I broke the kiss and she gently took my breasts and rubbed my nipples against hers. We both let out a low moan at the same time, me feeling jolts of pleasure going from my nipples straight to my clit and I'd imagine that's what she felt too. Luckily we'd chosen a spot that made it hard to see us, but anyone who walked by would be able to hear us. I kissed her again, then kissed my way lower, down to her just-more-than-a-handful breasts. I licked the underside of her breast, then licked from the bottom to the top of it, my tongue passing over her nipple. When she felt my tongue on her nipple she arched her back and gasped, but I quickly moved on. I made lots of short licks all over her entire chest area without touching her nipples until both of her breasts were shining with my saliva. I wiped them down with my hands, careful to avoid her nipples. Her nipples were rock hard, begging me to suck them. When I finally swirled my tongue around her nipple then started sucking on it, she moaned and put her hands on the back of my head, rubbing a little. I spent forever on those nipples, rolling them under my tongue and between my fingers, flicking my tongue over it, everything I could think of. I felt her pulling me to go down lower and I didn't resist. I rubbed my cheek against her chest lovingly then kissed her stomach. I lingered on her belly button for a while, dipping my tongue in it and wiggling it a little, then slid my tongue down her abdomen until I got to the top of her thong. She lifted up her hips and I took the thong off, running my fingers down her hips and legs as I did so. She smelled so good I had to taste her, but I wanted to share it with her first. I took one finger and slid it up her slit, then went back up and ran my finger over her lips, spreading her juices on them. She licked her lips as I went back down. This time I used my tongue to spread her juices from her hole to her clit. I flicked the tip of my tongue against her clit, which caused her to go "oooo" and "ohhh". Her hips kept rising up against my face until eventually they rose up and just stayed there. I took her clit in my mouth and rapidly licked around it in circles. Knowing she was about to come, I slipped one finger inside her which sent her over the edge. I could feel her muscles contracting against my finger and at that moment, I understood why men are in such a hurry to be inside a girl. She said, "Oh god Michelle I'm coming for you, I'm coming" which almost made me come without even being touched. As her body relaxed, I kissed the front of her bare pussy, then slid my body up hers. My nipples felt every curve and dip of her body, and I loved the feeling of her naked body against my almost naked body. I could feel how hot and wet she was through the material, but she could sense that it wasn't enough. I was involuntarily pushing my hips against hers, since I was turned on almost to the point of being unbearable. She rolled over so she was straddling my stomach, her pussy resting just above my belly button. I put my arms above my head and she started running her fingers very lightly down the length of my body, starting at my palms then going down the insides of my arms, the front of my breasts, my stomach, then she moved and ran her fingers down both sides of my hips and finished at my inner thighs. As she did this my body arched and this made her pussy push against my stomach harder, which turned me on even more. She knelt down between my legs which I had spread almost obscenely wide for her, then very slowly began pulling my thong down. She looked up at me and said, "I really like your thong. Where did you get it?" Heaven I laughed and said that this only happens when two girls are having sex with each other. She smiled at me then suddenly became transfixed on my now exposed pussy. "Jesus Christ, you're wet." No shit. She wasted no time and immediately attacked my clit, alternating between sucking and licking it. I had started coming from the second she put her tongue on me, and just kept going. I had heard about this happening to other girls, but it had never happened to me and I never expected it to. I think I passed out because the next thing I knew she was kissing my inner thighs and nuzzling her face against them. I pulled her up to me and we looked in each other's eyes. I said, "By the way, I love you too." She smiled that impossibly sweet smile and kissed my forehead, my chin, my nose, my whole face. I asked her, "So I guess you're not mad at me anymore for not leaving a tip?" "Babe, I could never be mad at you." We went back to our separate houses and I never heard from her again. She never called and whenever I called, there would be no answer. After a couple weeks I went back to the strip club and asked for her. The bouncer knew me by then and told me that she'd left off island with her military husband a couple weeks earlier. I was, and still am, really hurt by that. I don't know if she deliberately played with me all along or if she really did love me, but it doesn't matter either way. Whichever one it was, she could have called and told me that she was leaving and at least said goodbye. If you're reading this Layla, please send an email and explain because I don't understand at all. Heaven... I never really put much faith into love. It always seemed to pass me by anyhow. I waitressed at a little restaraunt in Santa Barbara and I was used to the Hollywood stars that would come in and either grab my ass or leave their phone numbers on their receipts. I never called them, and they never seemed to notice the next time they came in. I never cared. Atleast not until Paul walked in. Paul Walker to be exact. On his arm was a young, beautiful girl of ten who looked very much like him with a huge smile on her face. The hostess sat them at one of my tables on the terrace as she giggled at every stupid thing she said. Paul didn't seem to notice her. I gave them a few minutes before I finally walked over and introduced myself as their waitress for the night. "Hello, I'm Bella. I'll be your waitress for tonight. Is there anything I can get you to drink?" I smiled politely at them. "I'll have a coke?" the girl asked looking at her father. "Make that two," Paul replied with a smile at her. "Okay. Did you want an appetizer to start off with?" I asked. "Can we get mozarella sticks Dad?" she looked at him sweetly. "I don't see why not," Paul replied with a smile at me. "Okay, I'll just put that in for you now unless you think you're ready. And just so you know our specials tonight are the chicken fettucine alfredo and chicken marseilles, and young ladies eat free tonight," the girl seemed young enough to be called a kid but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. "Oh, I want chicken alfredo!" his daughter gasped. "Sounds good. I think we'll share," Paul thanked me and I went to place their order. I served them, checked on them twice to make sure everything was good and get them refills, and then took care of their bill when they were ready to leave. Paul just smiled at me the entire time, and I hoped I wasn't blushing. "All set," he said as he handed me back the bill with a smile and led his daughter out of the restaraunt. I smiled at them and took the receipt to the register as I opened it up. Not only had he left me a hundred dollar bill but his phone number and address as well as a quick note. 'I'd really like you to come over sometime.' I beamed. "What's with you? He give you a big tip or something?" the hostess asked. "Yeah, big tip," I replied. I vowed to call him tomorrow. Who cares about some two-day-made-up-rule? If you like them, you call them right? I called him the next day and we talked about the previous evening. He'd liked that I hadn't really bothered them like most waitresses do, and that I didn't hit on him in front of his daughter. I told him how other Hollywood guys hit on me and left me numbers I never called. He told me he was glad I had called him back and that he wanted to cook for me if I'd come over. I thought he sensed I wouldn't want the attention of everyone if we were seen out together. I told him I'd love to come over only if I got to help cook, and he said it was a deal. I went over that night since he invited me and I had the night off. We kept our conversation light until after dinner. I told him I hoped he didn't think I was just gonna give it up and that's why I wasn't into the Hollywood guys. He said he understood and that's why he liked me so much. We agreed that since we liked each other so much that when I was ready, if I thought he was the ONE, I'd let him know. We "dated" for a while in the sense that I came over and we cooked dinner and hung out. I met his mother a few times who seemed to take to me right away. She'd bought me an entire white cotton beach wardrobe in hopes that I would move in with him. I'd honestly thought about it but I wasn't sure until a few weeks later when I was at work. I'd been waitressing a few tables on the terrace when a car crashed through the fence and nearly hit me in broad daylight. I wasn't hurt, but I was terrified. Not of death, but of knowing I'd been wasting my time with Paul. It all flashed before my eyes in that awful moment. I quit my job, jumped into my car, and picked up my phone as it rang. It was Paul. "Are you alright? I was watching the news and they said some car crashed into the restaraunt and I was so worried!" "I'm fine. Can I come over though?" "Of course!" "I'll be there in a few minutes." I hung up the phone, sped as fast as I could to his house until I was there, and parked in his garage. As soon as I stepped into the house, he hugged me and then pulled away to look me over. "I'm fine," I said. "I just realized how stupid I've been not making the most of my life with you." "What do you mean?" he asked. "Paul, I don't want to waste another moment wondering if you're the right person for me when I've known it for so long and I was just too afraid it was just a silly dream that you could ever--" "It is a dream. A dream come true for me. How could I not wanna be with you? I want you to go upstairs and take a bath and calm down and if it's what you really want just call for me." I kissed him like I'd never kissed anyone in my entire life. And then I went upstairs to the white bathroom next to his room. I was sure of myself for once, but I took the bath anyway as an excuse to myself to clean up. After a while, I stepped out and towel dried my brown curly hair. I took a short white cotton gown out of the wardrobe that his mother had bought for me. "Paul?" I called as I stepped out into the hall. "In here," he replied from a room down the hall I'd never been in. I followed his voice until I found him standing in a room that was completely white. He stood in front of me, his tanned body chiseled but not overdone. White cotton pants hung from his hips and I bit my lip trying to control the thrill that ran through me. He looked like the spitting image of a god. My god. And then he did something I hadn't expected. He got down on one knee with a tiny black box held out in his hand. The tears built up in my eyes. "If you think I'm the one I wanna do this right. I want you to marry me and have kids with me and never leave," he said. "Oh," my voice cracked since it was all I could manage to get out of my mouth as the tears spilled over, and my hand automatically reached out as he took it and put the gorgeous and yet unostentatious diamond ring on my finger. He kissed my lips as he enveloped me in his arms and then picked me up and placed me on the white fluffy bed. I couldn't make myself move other than to sit up as he pulled the white gown over my head and kissed my neck and lips. It seemed forever that he kissed every inch of my skin and then some. I couldn't help the tears. "Are you sure?" he finally whispered in my ear. I felt his naked skin between my legs and opened my eyes to see him above me staring into my eyes. I shook my head and smiled. He grinned. I had never felt something so good in my entire life as I did when he finally entered me. I cried out a little when he was all the way in and he looked at me worriedly. All I could do was kiss his glorious lips in reassurance, but he still didn't move. I looked questioningly at him. "I've never felt anything so heavenly in my life." "Same here." I smiled. He continued to pull in and out, deep and slow and groaned everytime he was all the way in. I had died and gone to heaven. If this was really a dream I did not want to wake up ever. I wanted him to know how good he felt. Instinctively, he embraced me and rolled over onto his back. Gravity forced me deeper onto his member and a moan creeped out of my lips. I moved as slowly as he did until I got into a slow rhythm. It was then that he got up on his knees, forcing himself deeper into me. I let him have the control; it didn't matter to me. I wanted to feel him in every way. He stopped after a few moments and took himself out sensing I wanted another change in position. I'd heard all about my friends' boyfriends "taking them from behind" and thought about it. Paul sensed what I was thinking but stopped me. "I don't want to do anything that won't let me see you as anything but a beautiful angel," he said pulling me towards him. I cried a little. "What? I didn't hurt you did I?" he looked at me apoligetically. "No. You really think I'm an angel?" He smiled and kissed my lips. I took that as my answer. He lifted me up by my hips, carried me off the bed, and put me up against a wall as he put his throbbing cock back into place. He held me there for a moment and kissed me deeply. I felt my body grow tight and a wetness where his dick was. I moaned as he thrusted hard and slow, my arms wrapped around his neck as my breasts bounced in his face. I could feel his mouth kiss and nibble at them. He stopped after a few minutes and threw me onto the bed. I giggled as he climbed on top of me again, legs automatically wrapped around his waist. "Are you ready?" he whispered in my ear. "I want to finish inside you." I couldn't have wanted anything more as he looked into my eyes for an answer. I kissed him deeply, letting his tongue explore my mouth as his cock effortlessly found it's way back to where it belonged. I tightened around him and felt even wetter. He started hard and slow but then his pace and rhythm picked up. My hips automatically bucked against him and he held me close and got up on his knees again. His manhood found a spot I hadn't felt before and he bounced me hard with my legs locked around him. I fell back as we screamed together and his hot juices spilled into me. He laid on top of me with his head on my heart, listening to the beat steady out. He kissed the palm of my hand and placed it on the side of his face. Fuck the world, I never want to leave this heavenly room! "Will it be like that everytime?" I asked him. "I'll do my best, but I hope so!" he laughed. Heaven In high school I was too busy with academics and classwork to really have my priorities in order, like most of my peers. Yeah, that meant putting off sex, and well drivers education, too. I didn't think of myself as a geek or a nerd. I preferred to think of myself as "focused." Finally at eighteen and just before packing it all off for college I got my coveted driver's license. If only catching up on the rest would be as easy as passing a few tests and reading some letters from a chart in a view screen. Unfortunately along with the freedom of your first set of car keys come the inevitable layers of responsibility. So when my mother informed me of how I was to spend my Sunday afternoon, I was reluctantly resigned to my fate. "We are taking the van today, mister. You are going to be doing some shopping and then we are going visiting." My mother owned a van for a reason. She was forever driving around the countryside, stopping at "sales" and hauling things around for her friends. My duties today were sure to include, chauffer, shopping consultant, delivery man, and bored son. The later job consisted of mostly holding up a nice older woman's kitchen counter with my ass while my mother laughed and asked for a second cup of coffee. I can't truthfully say I was enthusiastic, but I wasn't moping or sour. Six stops and three sheets of plywood, four bags of mulch, and an ugly concrete lawn statue later we neared our last stop with four grocery bags of baby clothes for the new baby grand daughter of family friends. Walt was a giant of a man who was the spitting image of the guy from the Mister Clean bottle, tall, muscular and completely bald. His wife, Elaine, was completely opposite. She was half his height and nearly round. The only thing they had in common was that one or both of them was constantly laughing. We weren't there two minutes and the coffee pot was on. "Jesus, assume the position. Where do these old people put it all," I thought to myself. I had already leaned back against the kitchen cabinetry lost in puzzled contemplation of my mother's bladder capacity, when I heard Elaine yelling from the other room. Yes, yelling. It's what passes for family communication in that home. "Lana, get your butt down here we got company." I'll pass on the exclamation marks if you don't mind, but you get the idea. What God shorted Elaine in height, he made up for in lungs. Pardon the pun. I hadn't seen Lana since I was eight years old. She was the complete tomboy and we spent our summers running through the woods along the lake hunting frogs, swimming and finding new uses for mud and sticks. When she came sulking through the door she was immediately recognizable. At eighteen she had grown into a stocky athletic girl with big shoulders and muscular calves. Her hair was thick and black and her eyes dark brown. She was dressed as if she had just gotten back from track practice, which her mother noticed and remarked on immediately. "Lana, don't you have anything else to wear. Why don't you change after practice?" Turning to me, Elaine quickly added, "Lana got a scholarship for track and field to State. She throws shot put and discus. The coach thinks she might compete for a spot on the varsity squad." Being young it's automatic to look a little harder at a girl when you get an invitation like that. There was no doubt Lana was a strong, but beneath the loose t-shirt and thin baggy shorts the x-ray guy vision could plainly tell there was a girl there. Lana rolled her eyes at her mother looked at me and simply said, "Hi. Wanna go?" Lana didn't wait for an answer. She just grabbed my hand and yanked me out the nearest door, through the garage and down the street. I doubted my mother would miss us, and I'm sure we could be gone for hours before her bladder even noticed our absence. We were nearly half a block away before any semblance of a conversation started. The topics breezed quickly through schools, sports, and family before her face eased and she began to laugh a little during the brief pauses. Lana was never very talkative and most of the burden fell to me. Still I could make her laugh. That was a good sign and a useful talent for a guy, at least I thought. Five blocks in to the walk and we veered to the left through a field and down a path into a tangled patch of woods behind the subdivision. A voice behind us startled us both. "Hey who's your friend?" We both turned to face a young, thin blonde waving a cigarette in my direction. "It's just James, I've known him forever," Lana said with a shrug. "Got another," she added motioning to the burning stub of a Marlboro in the blonde's hand. "Yeah, here." As the cigarette passed hands, the blonde turned to me and raised her eyebrows. "No, thanks. I don't smoke on Sundays," I said as coolly as possible. She smiled, and turned to Lana and complained, "The bitch is in the house and I am waiting for her fat stupid ass to leave. I can't fucking wait for summer to be over, and to get back to State." This girl was beautiful. She had a short, blonde pixie haircut with delicate features, perfect white skin and flashing green eyes. I blessed God for the weather in that moment as she was dressed for the summer heat in a thin white t-shirt and tight little short with sneakers and bare ankles. God grants so few obvious favors. While she was stalking back and forth waving her cigarette and ranting about her "cunt" of a mother all I could focus on was the roundness of her ass cheeks barely visible under the back of her shorts. Thank you, God. Lana noticed my stare too and nodded in the blonde's direction, "That's Amy. Her mom's a bitch. She's a sophomore at Southern." This much I gathered myself. At nineteen she looked young and waif like. When she stopped cursing like a sailor she could have easily passed for one of those skinny runway models stuck between the pages of Vogue. I looked at Lana and gave a knowing look while sinking to a squatting position with my back against a tree. I wasn't tired but I was desperate both to hide my raging hard-on and to get a better look at those ass cheeks. In the moments that elapsed God's blessing multiplied and I glimpsed far more of heaven then I ever thought I would. Amy's agitation and excited state caused the nipples of her smallish tits to poke noticeably through her thin white t-shirt. I was beginning to wonder if I had enough blood for both my hard cock and my cramping legs. I was glassy eyed and so completely under the hypnotic spell of Amy's body that I barely noticed when Lana said "Let's go," and yanked me to my feet. Stumbling along the path through the woods in a new direction, I was suddenly, painfully aware of how noticeable my erection was through my own shorts as we followed Amy, or rather as I followed Amy's ass. The bliss of heaven is often followed by the hell of embarrassment. But what the fuck, I decided, it was worth it. "Where are going now?" "Amy's house. The witch has taken her broom and left." I shrugged and trudged along behind, my eyes never veering much from Amy's ass all the while angling my body so as not to reveal my own protruding body part. "Welcome to hell," Amy said with a giggle and a shake of her blonde pixie mop. She collapsed in a large dark Lazy-boy recliner near the television, which left the only choice for me and Lana to be the horrid orange and brown love seat on the opposite wall. The channels on the television flipped by with the rapid click of Amy's thumb. Lana and I reclined under the faint breeze of a wobbly ceiling fan. There was some more complaining from Amy's chair about "the Bitch" and some empathetic, "yeah, I know's" from Lana. But all of it was falling on deaf ears as I strained from across the room to peer along Amy's pale legs and up the loose shorts to where I was sure the light blonde hair and soft pink lips of paradise must be. "God, please." Eventually the conversation waned and an uncomfortable pause followed. Some hyper-active, too-hip teen pretender was on the television giving updates about bands that we never heard off. We all half stared at the TV waiting. I didn't know what to say, but in the pregnant pause that followed I became all too aware of the straining ache in my shorts, and I knew that without conversation someone was going to look around for something to talk about. The next topic was sure to be obvious. That someone was Lana. "I'm bored," Lana said with a calm shrug. "Do you wanna make out?" It was as simple and as matter of fact as that. No rubbing or touching or hand holding or teasing leading up to it. Just a simple question, like "Do you like cornflakes?" I must have seemed a little startled and I looked at Amy for a second, only to be met with an arched eyebrow. A wordless, "Well?" In my head the answer was, "God, yes." Why couldn't the question have come from Amy lips, and not Lana's. But my head had only half a second to mull over the question before Lana was on top of me with her legs straddling my lap and her hands pressing on my chest. Lana was strong and her hands pressed my chest backwards into the crushed velvet of the couch cushion as her face lowered and her lips met mine. Our heads turned on their own and her tongue forced its way into my mouth. Still too surprised to react in any conscious way, I was gasping for air as her body pressed close above me and began to move. Lana's left hand moved up to my hair and pulled my head back. My hands automatically moved to her hips. At first my hands moved to control her and move her away, but the rocking and rolling of her hips found something we both wanted. Her mouth left mine and I could feel her hot gasps in my ear. The thickness of my hard cock was pressed between her thighs and was riding the full length of her pussy every time she humped against me. I could feel the bump of her pubic bone as she finished each stroke with a grind. "Oh fuck," she shivered. "Fuck, rub my tits. Jesus." My hands slipped up under her t-shirt and pushed the flimsy bra up over her smallish tits. She arched her back as my hands closed over them and my thumbs pressed the large erect nipples between my fingers and thumbs. Her head came crashing down, resting against my neck her breathing hot and harsh. I moved my hips and thrust against her with only thin fabric between my cock and her wet pussy. The ache was incredible and I needed to get off, and wished to God I could free my cock somehow and get it closer. Lana was shuddering now, and pushing me harder into the sofa. There was wetness between us, and my cock could feel our damp heat. "Oh fuck you. Fuck. Fuck me. God. Oh Fuck, god yessss." Lana collapsed on me her damp shorts pressing down on my crotch. I was breathing hard, frustrated as hell, and I swear I could feel her pussy pulsing on my cock even through the layers of fabric between us. All that talk of fucking and all I got was a dry hump. In a moment or two she gave a little cough and a laugh, looked into my eyes she said, "Your turn." Still gasping myself with a cock like a rock and balls that I am sure were two shades of blue, Lana slid down the length of my body to my feet. While her body went to the ground her hands grabbed the waistband of my shorts. On her way to the floor she left me naked from the waist down. It was then, and only then that I remembered Amy. Cute, little pixie of a cock-tease Amy was still in her chair across the room wearing an impish smile. Her eyes met mine, her brow arched and her head nodded just as I felt Lana's warm hand grasp the base of my cock. Lana was not gorgeous, but she had beautiful brown eyes and thick full lips. As if that weren't enough, she was horny and eager to please. Two strokes of her firm grip and my cock head disappeared between her soft full lips. Bobbing her head slowly up and down as her tongue swirled along the underside of my cock, my head soon grew light and I forgot all about the paradise inside Amy's shorts. The making out and the dry humping weren't new, but a girl's mouth on my cock was. What guy can forget their first, especially when their first really, really wants to do it. The warm, wet sucking sensation dragged the moans from my chest and made legs tense involuntarily and my hips rise off the sofa as if gravity didn't matter. I tried to be polite. I tried to be a good guy. I really did. But the motion of her mouth, the swirling of her tongue and her hand stroking, teasing the cum from my balls wouldn't let me. My hands were in her short thick dark hair, pulling it down on my cock again and again. Slow at first, then fast. Then slow again as I felt myself about to cum. I wanted this to last. Who knew when this would happen again, or ever. Lana, pulled her head from my cock and gasped. "That's it baby, fuck my soft warm mouth." Oh, god. That one phrase started a lifetime of addiction. YOu know exactly what I mean. Lifting my ass from that ugly ass sofa I slowly watched as my cock disappeared and reappeared from her willing mouth. Lana sucked and licked my cock, squeezing her left tit, panting and moaning as I fucked her full lips. I could feel her thighs clenching and releasing around my lower legs and I knew she was getting off trying to coax my load from my hard young dick. It was the most amazing thing. And nothing I imagined could have made that moment any better. That is until a small cry and a moan from across the room distracted me. For just a second my head turned, and there was Amy, slouched in her Lazy-boy her shorts pushed aside feverishly fingering that little blonde pussy. Her eyes were half opened watching Lana's head bobbing eagerly on my cock. Her toes were pointed straight and her legs were quivering with orgasm. Heaven. My hands pushed down on Lana's head and my cock gave a hard spasm. My cum gushed down Lana's throat. I couldn't help it. I barely heard her gasping. I only felt the incredible sensation of her throat on my shaft as she swallowed again and again. Lana knew exactly what to do and kept moving her face slowly, milking me with her firm grip until I was completely spent. I stopped breathing. True to her nature, Lana stopped after only a few moments, stood up and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks." And she was gone down the hallway to the bathroom leaving my wet limp cock lying on my belly. My eyes closed and opened again to the soft press of the cushions next to me. Amy's hand reached down and grazed the length of my cock. "It's beautiful. You have a big one. It's the biggest one yet." I smiled, half out of pride, half out of embarrassment. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, "I wish I could have seen more of it but Lana couldn't keep it out of her mouth. I hope you come back." Amy popped up from the sofa and yelled down the hallway to Lana, "It's almost the witching hour. Time to go." I was still drained and needed more than a little help from Lana to get up off the couch, pull up my shorts and head back down the path through the woods. Although the whole episode lasted little more than two pots of coffee, it left an indelible mark on me. If you're curious, and I know you are. I never went back. Mother sort of sheepish admitted some years later that Lana never got married, and her and her friend Amy Whats-her-name moved off to Vermont. Life is funny. Heaven This is a work of fiction in which all characters are of the age of consent or older. ***** To know the taste of a woman is to know desire—pure. Her face is the architecture of beauty, her skin—the satin that envelops the world into darkness. Disarray, discontent, and chaos shadow her every move. I have known such a woman. Only once, in the night, in the heat of youth, we merged and became. I ran my fingers through her tresses. They curled serpentine and smooth, the color of burnt wheat with the honey-suckle scent of spring. A new beginning is what she had promised with her eyes more so than her words. She took my hand and led me to the promise of something not quite stable but erratic and erotic in nature. And I wanted this more than anything in my life before. Sometimes when flesh intersects it is soft and gentle. Barely a kiss, I was addicted to her taste. She sat down next to me and began to unbutton my shirt, each exposure of flesh bringing with it a touch, a nibble, a caress. The air was cool yet warming in a wondrous way and seemed to fog around me, lifting me from the normality of the moment into a magical realm. She knelt between my open thighs, outlining my womanhood as if she had never imagined such joy. And then she really kissed me. At first closed lips against closed lips. Then she opened me to the feel of her tongue gliding deep within me. She took my clit between her lips and began to suck while stroking it tenderly up and down, then from side to side. As I approached my silent orgasm, she climbed onto my lap wrapping her legs around my waist. I embraced her and we looked at each other. I wanted to die in her arms. As if she had read my every secret wish, her eyes, a deep disturbing blue, illuminated like the first rays of summer sun ascending in the morning sky. Her hands held my face, cradled like a child, and she kissed my forehead. She continued with butterfly kisses down the side of my face and along the tender of my neck. Lifting her head, she asked for my final permission. I closed my eyes in surrender. The first time a man enters a woman, no matter how loving and with how much care, there is a pain that is followed by a strange new pleasure. He invades something that up until the moment of penetration has never been breached. He stretches and redefines the meaning of woman. Some believe this is the natural order of things. Some believe that the great plan is for man to create sexual passion for woman. But what if this is not the way of things. What if another woman can redefine the meaning of the universe, life, love, blue, green? She pierced me in a way that no man thus had. And it was pain followed by a slow ebbing pleasure that spread throughout not only my body, but also my mind, my soul, recreating my being. For the first time, I knew that my life would never be trapped with the sameness that binds all humans. I had moved beyond that with her. And whatever she would offer would be scary and sensual. How long we stayed locked in our embrace I could not say. But time passed as time does. And then there was another, tall, graceful, but fully male. His scent was novel yet known. At this point I could not see with the clarity of vision. It was seeing with that sixth sense rarely used. She moved behind me now, and he stood over me. I felt her hands guiding me to lie back onto her lap. She kissed me as he filled me. His hands kneading my breast as his pace increased. Her tongue slipped along mine down to my throat and I wept. I closed my eyes against the intenseness. I could feel his tongue lavishing one nipple then the other, the roughness only making them harder and more sensitive. Then he too tasted me. Only his bite was amplified by the triple penetration. Heaven is clouds and wisps of white, with angelic voices singing with exuberance. But for me heaven has a different meaning. It is the heat that encases all of one's senses, shrouds the body in carnal lust, and the soul is freed. Pleasure, joy, happiness exist in my heaven as servants of sexual bliss; pain, its only equal. In this pain, I found that heaven that until now I only thought existed in myths and legends. And when the usually elusive orgasm found me, I welcomed it with out-stretched arms and naked vision. The night twisted and bent, lead to so many wild experiences. He had become my lover as surely as she always was meant to be my love. With the two of them, we created unknown cravings and gave birth to the exotic. But it all began with her. She was the one to lead me into the garden of delights, leaving all that was known behind like the closing of a favorite book. To know the taste of a woman is pure desire. To know the taste of an immortal woman is a shattering addictive lust that consumes like a raging fire. And I have become the phoenix rising anew from her eternal flames.