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The Creation of M.P.S.

By: masterfeedlarry



Chapter 1

"Gee, Zach! It sounds so... I don't even know how to say it... just dirty," she said. She leaned away and looked at me out of the corner of her eye. I held on to her hand, partly because I liked touching her - any part of her - and partly to prevent her from walking away in disgust before I had a chance to explain.

"No, no... the emphasis is on personal, not slut," I pleaded. "And it's only for me," I squeezed her hand for emphasis as I continued. "A possessive pronoun and an adjective - my and personal - are the primary ideas... the slut part is not to be taken literally." I looked into her eyes. "But I do want you to behave like one when you're alone with me," I explained. Back and forth my eyes darted, focusing first on one of her eyes, then the other. She couldn't have been surprised by my passion, but she seemed suspicious that it had all been focused on her as of late. 

"And what exactly do I get out of this?" she asked, fighting a smile. 

"Wow, well..." I stammered. "There's the benefit you'll derive from having the attention of a man, a man who worships you, and wants to give you as much sexual pleasure as he can possibly bestow upon you..."

"I see..."

"Yeah, you see, since I derive so much pleasure from making you cum, then the more I make you cum, the more pleasure I receive, and we're in a win-win situation." I continued to hold her hand, though I no longer felt as if she were going to run away. 

"So, explain to me why I have to act like a slut in front of you all the time when we're alone, if you already derive so much pleasure from making me cu... uh..., giving me pleasure?" she asked, placing her other hand on top of mine.

"That's a good question... a fair question," I started, trying to buy a little thinking time before I spoke. "Well, you see, it's like this...," I began. Then I thought, aw fuck it, it's always best to just tell the truth, so I started to explain. "One of my biggest fantasies is to have a wife who can't get enough of her man's cock and tongue." I paused and looked deeply into her eyes. "She craves everything about having sex with her husband so much that she begins to need to be satisfied by him constantly. She understands that, if dressing like a slut and acting like a slut around him turns him on sooo much that he becomes wild with desire and gives her multiple orgasms, then she'll be happy to dress and act like a slut around him." I paused. She said nothing, just looked at me. I continued. "As I understand it, a woman who dresses like a slut wears as little as possible to make her more alluring to possible suitors, and to give them easy access to her goodies." I paused again. I waited. She said nothing. We stared at each other.

"Suitors?" she asked finally, raising an eyebrow.

"Euphemistically speaking, of course..."

"Of course..." she smirked. I smiled. 

"I'll be the only 'suitor' in this case," I reassured her. She smiled. We sat looking at each other for another few moments before she finally said, "This is silly, you know?" Oh, fuck, here it comes! "Why are you spending all this time and energy worrying about how to dress me up as your personal slut rather than figuring out how we are going to get enough money together to pay the first installment of your daughter's tuition that's due in two months?" She pulled her hand away from me. Her demeanor was serious. Gone from her eyes was that sexy twinkle, replaced by an accusatory glare. Kate was dictating now! I had foolishly forgotten about Kate, and now it was too late. She was on me like a cat. I was shocked by the quickness of the transformation. I froze. It had destroyed my train of thought, and I was dead in the water. I cringed, waiting for the coupe de grace, when Sarah quickly said, "Let's talk about this later, I have to get started on the laundry." She patted my hand patronizingly and went on about her business.

At this point I guess I need to explain just who the fuck Kate and Sarah are. Sarah is my wife of twenty years. Unfortunately, somewhere inside Sarah lives, or should I say lurks Kate. Kate is a bitch. You do not want to mess with Kate, no siree, Bob. Kate does not believe in fun or romance. Kate will always find the darkest side of any situation and dwell on it. Kate will cuss you out in a heart beat if she thinks you've wronged her, sort of a shoot first ask questions later approach to human relations. Kate is mean. Kate is vindictive. Kate is ruthless. Kate is selfish. Kate is ..., I could continue in this manner, but it doesn't get any better, and I think you're beginning to get the picture. Yet, I feel that I must clarify for you that the nature of Kate's existence is a distinct part of Sarah's personality. Let me explain with some examples. I am reminded of two separate characters, cultural icons if you will, that are like Kate. One is Tweetie Bird. I know, you're thinking, "Tweetie Bird?" But, remember that episode where Sylvester chases Tweetie bird into Dr. Jekyl's laboratory and he accidentally drinks some of Jekyl's formula? Remember the hideous creature that takes over Tweetie's body periodically (no pun intended, but maybe I should look into the connection)? Well, that hideous Tweetie is Kate! 

Now, the other character that reminds me of Kate is Gollum, a.k.a. Sméagol, especially Andy Serkis's rendition of him in the Lord of the Rings movies. His portrayal of the phenomenon of two distinct personalities inhabiting one body is as close to anything I've seen that describes the co-existence of Sarah and Kate, though in real life the transitions are neither as frequent nor quite so psychotic. So, if you combine those two examples, you get a better idea of Kate's personality. I have not yet been able to exorcise Kate from Sarah. Fortunately, I've discovered a treatment that at least keeps Kate at bay. Basically, I ply her with copious amounts of cannabis and multiple orgasms.

Make no mistake; Sarah Katherine Hill is a divine creature of the highest order. Sarah, as they say, is built up from the ground. She is extremely well proportioned. In today's urban vernacular she would be described as "thick". In her prime, her body could be said to resemble a combination of Serena Williams and Jennifer Lopez, with a little Vita Guerra thrown in. Yeah, if you morph those three together any way you want you get Sarah. Those of you familiar with the art work of Frank Frazetta no doubt know exactly the body type of which I speak. There is nothing small about a "Frazetta woman." Fucking a "Frazetta woman" is an athletic event. One should train for the occasion. In high school Sarah was a cheerleader in the fall and winter, and she played lacrosse in the spring. She even played lacrosse in college where I met her. At 5' 10", 155 lbs., 36DD – 26 – 40, she was truly a fine, athletic specimen. To "news-personality" beauty add brains, wit, compassion, perseverance, and moxy, and you have a pretty impressive human being, pretty impressive indeed, and terribly intimidating. 

We met at a college bar on "Freshman Night", the first Thursday of the school year, when everybody on campus tried to squeeze into the on-campus disco to check out the new crop of freshman girls. The place was named "The Rathskeller" so it came to be known as "the Rat." It was my senior year and I'd only managed to fuck three girls in the past four years of school. The first was during my freshman year when this really hot sophomore pre-med named Christina decided I was cute. She was a tall (6 foot) light-skinned black woman with long, creamy brown legs. Her figure was lean but very shapely. She wasn't quite Frazetta material, but extremely desirable nonetheless. I kept thinking that I was dreaming. How could this fine lady be interested in me? And she was a sophomore! She invited me up to her apartment for a nightcap after we left the Rat one night. We fucked, or more accurately she fucked my brains out for three days straight, but that's another story. The second girl I had, I'd like to try to forget. The whole event lasted less than twenty minutes; and that's all I'm going to say about that. The third was a petite little hottie named Rachel that I really enjoyed, but she wanted someone with a little more pedigree than I had to offer, so that relationship didn't last very long. Thus, it was with this as my track record that I entered the Rat for my last "Freshman Night."

Exercising our seniority, my three friends and I butted into the front of the line, through the doorway, and into the catacomb-like space. The dance floor was illuminated by a twinkling mirror ball. The thumping bass of the DJ's music resonated in the chest and gave the crowd a common heart beat. We split up to hunt alone, planning to meet back at the door in an hour. This was a reconnaissance mission. No one expected to score tonight. And besides, there were bongs to be done back at the house. 

I set out on my first sweep, talking to friends, grabbing a beer. There was lots of fresh pussy walking everywhere, and I made several laps admiring the crop. Finally, with only fifteen minutes left before I had to rendezvous with my boys I spotted my Frazetta-woman. She was poured into a pair of Sergio Valente jeans that hugged her curves like a second skin. The buttons on her shirt strained to stay closed around her large breasts. She leaned against a doorway looking over her shoulder into another large sitting area where booths and tables were packed with people. I approached down wind and was standing in front of her as she turned her head back to facing forward. This un-nerved her, startled her briefly so that she pulled her head back sharply with a blink. She opened her eyes and focused on mine. Now I was caught in the alluring stare of a most gorgeous set of eyes.

I opened with, "How ya doin'? I don't think I've ever seen you around campus before. Are you a freshman?" She looked me straight in the eye, cocked her head to the side and said, "No." She shook her head slowly in a coy and sexy manner as she said it. How a woman can shake her head in a coy and sexy manner I have no idea, but she did it anyway. "So you're a sophomore?" I offered, hopefully. She did it again, that sexy little wiggle in her hips as she shook her head, a blink of eyelash. I was embarrassed and enchanted at the same time. "A junior," I asked, nodding my head up and down with the hope that she would do the same. She countered with another head shake, this time looking at the floor, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Senior," we both said together, laughing awkwardly. (I found out later that that approach had been successful because it was genuine.) We talked. We found out that we shared mutual friends as her friend Jasmine dates my friend Charlie. Come to think of it, I had met Jasmine many times with Charlie. We'd done bongs together. This was totally cool! But time was running out. I told her that I had to run so I asked her for her number. She said, "You can get it from Jasmine." My god, she was going to make me work for it. I told her I'd call her and she gave me that smirk that said, "Yeah, right." We started dating the next day and were married two years later.

Chapter 2

In the time between the next date and marriage, Sarah and I had some memorable unions that are worthy of note. Our sex life had been slow in developing and never quite reached a roiling boil. I was, and continue to be, a highly sensual and sexual person. I'm also permanently horny. In all honesty, by the time I was a senior, I needed an absolute freak to satisfy my libido. Christina was a freak, but when I met her I had only had sex one time in my entire life, so she was a complete shock to my system. She was too much too soon. She scared me. Well, by my senior year I was looking for too much. I was looking for someone to scare the shit out of me.

Sarah wasn't as horny nor was she as talented in bed as Christina, but she more than made up for it in the body department. I mean, if you couldn't get off fucking a body like Sarah's, then you really don't know anything about fornicating. Nevertheless, I missed having a partner whose sexual appetite was more in line with my own; someone who's permanently horny and given to initiating satisfaction with the frequency of an addict. Now that I think about it, it was at this point in our relationship that I began to try to increase Sarah's sex-drive. I decided to try to tease and shame her into action. 

After we had both graduated, I moved into a house with two other guys. Sarah was in grad school in a nearby town, about forty miles away. She lived alone in an apartment made out of a room in an old town house. Some weekends I drove to see her, others she'd drive over to see me. One afternoon, when she had come to visit me for the weekend, we were hanging out doing bongs with my roommates before they went off to a baseball game. We sat there in the living room with the afternoon sun laying down orange shafts of dusty light across the cluttered coffee table. When Sarah leaned forward to fill herself another bong hit, her breasts pierced the flat side of a rectangular shaft of light that fell perfectly across her chest, illuminating them in orange light. The dust particles danced and the smoke made psychedelic swirls in the beam. She wore this tight scoop-necked T-shirt with narrow horizontal black and white stripes. Like the lines on a topographical map, the stripes revealed all of the nuances to be found in the shape of each individual breast beneath. The sheer seamless bra was doing its job, supporting without concealing or distorting. If one stared shamelessly, and I was staring with all my might, one could see the smooth bulge of each breast capped by the more wrinkled surface of her huge areolas which puff up that way when she gets excited. Her actual nipples were so hard and so long that the material of her shirt was forced to conform to them, creating in the fabric a distinctive ridge that stretched across her chest from nipple to nipple. I glanced at Sean and Pat to see if they were looking at what I was looking at. Both sat opposite her, mouths open, tongues frantically trying to find or create some moisture inside, staring at Sarah's rack. 

Sitting forward on the edge of the couch, Sarah straightened her back, lit the match, held it to the bowl, and slowly began to inhale. The white smoke quickly filled the clear tube as Sarah's chest began to visibly expand. Her breasts were forced upward and outward as if she were trying to put them on display. But she wasn't. She had no idea what effect this was having on us. She was just following the proper mechanics for doing a bong hit. She held the bong away from her while she struggled to suppress a cough, lowering it to rest her forearms on her thighs. Once the cough was avoided, she raised the instrument to finish the hit, and as she did, the top of the bong roughly grazed her left breast causing it to lift, fall and jiggle in a way that only real breasts can. She pulled the last of the smoke into her lungs through the tube and held it, lips pursed, chest out, eyes closed. She leaned back into the couch to hold the hit for as long as possible. In so doing anyone sitting opposite her was given an unobstructed view of her white panties stretched over her plump vulva, the cleft in her labia clearly discernable. We all exhaled at the same time, Sarah blowing smoke with hers toward the ceiling.

Rising from one of the two chairs facing the couch, Sean smacked Pat roughly on the thigh. "Dude, let's get going. I want to score this game from the first pitch." Pat tore himself from his trance-like vision and stood up, not bothering to try to hide his obvious erection. Sean had covered his with his newspaper. Sarah's eyes were closed, enjoying the effects of the bong hit, oblivious to the three erections she'd just induced. They said thanks for the bongs and were gone. No one acknowledged that anything remotely erotic had just been witnessed.

"Thanks for the bongs, dude," Sarah said mockingly after they left. She giggled. I snickered and filled myself a bong hit. Now that they were gone I started in on Sarah. 

I slumped onto the couch next to her, giggling about something or other when I suddenly stopped and frowned dramatically. "You don't really love me, do you?" 

"What are you talking about?" she asked. She sat up, worried that I might be serious. I pouted pitifully.

"How come you never ask for sex? How come you never offer to suck my cock? I offer to eat your pussy all the time!" I pushed out my lower lip. She pushed out her lower lip and pouted back at me. Somehow, it looked a lot sexier when she did it. She reached over, stroked my hand and then gathered mine in hers as she stood, pulling me up with her. With a slow blink and the moistening of the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue, she looked up at me and whispered sexily, "Let's go fool around." I looked down into those magnetic eyes, glassy and full of lust. She walked backward pulling me toward the stairs, holding me in her gaze. It wasn't until she turned to look where she was going that my eyes were able to leave hers and take in again just what a magnificent body she had.

Sarah turned around at the banister and led me up the stairs toward the bedroom. The view from behind and below was exquisite. She wore a black pleated mini-skirt, white ankle socks, and white Ked's. Whenever Sarah got out of the shower, she'd rub her entire body down with baby oil. This made her naked legs glow invitingly. I slid my hands along the backs of her thighs as she ascended the stairs ahead of me. "My, but you have lovely legs," I said as I flipped the hem of her skirt up high enough to briefly expose her flexing buttocks, cut diagonally mid-cheek by the white cotton bikini panties that had managed to work their way into the crack of her ass. 

Pulling me into my room she sat down on the bed and I stood before her. As I pulled my t-shirt off over my head, she jerked my shorts and underwear down freeing my painfully erect cock which sprang up through a full 180 degree arc and met my abdomen with a surprisingly loud, wet, smack. Sarah scooted to the edge of the bed and prepared to take me in her mouth. Sadly, blow-jobs were not among Sarah's best skills. The first time she gave me a blow job and I came in her mouth, she ran to the bathroom coughing and sputtering to spit it out. Ever since then, fellatio was strictly a means to a better erection, not a means to an ejaculating end. Still, she gave it the old college try even if she wasn't crazy about the liquids produced by my engorged penis.  

Grasping my cock at the base she squeezed it firmly causing the mushroom head to balloon and a clear droplet of pre-cum to slowly roll down the vein covered shaft. She dragged my cock along the edge of her jaw smearing the viscous liquid all over her cheek. While the visual imagery was hot, I knew that her true motive was to remove the sticky liquid before she slid my cock into her mouth because she wasn't sure whether she liked the taste of my pre-cum and that was the easiest and sexiest way to wipe it off. Tentatively she licked at the head, finally sliding her lips over it and about a third of the way down the shaft. I didn't comment, just watched as she slid her mouth on and off my glistening penis. Her breasts were mashed into my thighs as I stood between her legs. I could feel her hardened nipples through her shirt and bra. I reached down with both hands and slid the bottom of her shirt and bra up and over her tremendous breasts. Freed from their constraints she mashed them back into my thighs, dragging the nipples down my thighs as she slid off the bed to kneel on the floor in front of me. I began to pull roughly on her nipples and tease her puffy areola as she continued to work on my cock with her mouth. 


The Creation of M.P.S.



I don't know what it was, but she really began to get into the whole scene. Every third or fourth stroke, she'd go a little too far, gagging when the tip of my cock slid into the back of her throat. The feeling was absolutely amazing. Her throat muscles contracted as she fought her gag reflex, but it was that contraction that felt so good. She pulled away quickly, her mouth full of clear saliva that dripped off the edge of her lip as she withdrew my rock hard cock, swallowed and then gasped. I don't think she'd ever taken a cock that deep in her throat before. I had never seen anything that erotic before in real life. And I don't think I'd ever seen my cock grow that hard before. 

She looked up at me. Her eyes were glassy and watering. She smiled like a playful child who had just re-surfaced after having been dunked by her friend at the pool. It had been a little scary, but exciting at the same time and she still wanted to play. She dove back on, opening her mouth wider and cupping my shaft with her tongue. She slid on and off just far enough for the head to grate across the roof of her mouth and mush against the soft palate in the back of her throat. I didn't know what had gotten in to her, but this was amazing. She had taken more than half of my eight-inch erection into her drooling mouth. This was quickly turning into the best blow job I had ever had. Was it the marijuana? Was it lunar? Was I succeeding in liberating the freak from inside of this woman? All I could do was hold on for dear life.

The feeling was exquisite and building. I let go of both nipples and straightened up. Her hands caressed the backs of my thighs and up over my buttocks. I stood there with my hands squeezing my head just above my ears and my mouth open, wallowing in the pleasure she was bringing me. I could feel her uvula bump the tip of my cock as she continued slurping my pole. She squeaked and grunted with every thrust, while breathing furiously through her nose. The sight and sounds combined to push me quickly over the limit. I had only been in her mouth for maybe a minute, but her assault had been relentless. Eyes closed in determined concentration, she hadn't broken rhythm once. Surely she knew that to continue this way would make me cum, and quick? She must have known. She wanted to prove to me that she had gusto and that this wasn't a one way relationship as far as sex was concerned. She wanted to show me that she could step her sexual game up a notch.

Then she did it. She deep-throated me. I felt the head of my cock slide past her uvula and descend into the smooth tissues of her esophagus. Her hands went to my hips, keeping me from thrusting while at the same time keeping me buried in her throat. She held her breathe, her rhythmically flaring nostrils pressed into my pubis. I don't know if it was my cock pulsing or her throat constricting that made the sensation, but my balls suddenly tightened as did every muscle in my body. My whole being pumped three or four solid jets of hot semen directly into her stomach. On the fourth convulsion of my cock she quickly pulled her throat off and swallowed hard, my last two emissions landing on her chest, just below her shirt and bra. She smiled up at me, her mouth opened in amazement, shocked that she had not only tried it, but succeeded.

I quickly picked up my gray t-shirt and used it to wipe the cum off her tits. She reached up and stroked my cock slowly back and forth, smearing the saliva and cum along the entire shaft as it twitched and seeped. I groaned and shivered as she manipulated my still very sensitive member. She stared at it as my knees wobbled.

"Oh my god, it's still hard," she whispered. It didn't look like she knew that she'd said that out loud. That's one of those phrases I never tire of hearing, though as I grow older I hear it much less often.

"Why don't you sit down on it?" I asked lying down on the bed. I grasped my cock at the base with one hand and stroked it to maximum hardness with the other as I watched Sarah reach under her mini-skirt and remove her panties. She rolled them down her legs and stepped out of them. They continued to twist and turn on the floor as they unwound themselves leaving slimy little streaks of pussy juice on the wooden floor revealing just how wet she had become. 

She threw her leg over my body and straddled my torso, dangling her nipples over my mouth. As I suckled each nipple in turn, I caressed the smooth skin over her flared hips. Her wet pussy lips were dragging along my stomach just above my navel. I couldn't see because her skirt was in the way, but I could feel that they were very wet and very swollen. She slid lower until the head of my cock bumped up against those lips. It was like a kiss as she pulled away just as they touched. I dug my fingers into her buttocks and pulled her up my chest as I scrunched lower into the bed until I was face to face with her hairy pussy. Rearranging my arms under her legs I pulled her thighs down around my ears, suffocating myself in her vulva. She began to gyrate on my face smearing pussy juice all over the place. I was in heaven. I took a breath whenever I could as I just lay with my mouth open and my tongue thrust out as she masturbated herself on my face.

"Oh my god, Zach," she whimpered, almost in a panic. "I've got to have you in me." Having said that she pushed herself backwards down my body leaving a slimy trail of pussy mucous along the center of my chest until her now gaping cunt met the head of my cock. Bull's eye. She kept pushing, impaling herself on my rod until she was balls deep. She groaned deep within her stomach and sat up. She placed both hands on my chest, arched her back and slowly rose off of my cock clenching her pussy tightly as she dragged it almost all of the way off. Then she dropped down forcefully. "Oooh," she exhaled. Sarah leaned forward mashing her tits into my chest and her lips into my lips. Her tongue snaked its way into my mouth, both hands clutching at the back of my head. She found my tongue and began to suck it into her mouth, flicking it with hers. My cock was buried as deep in her grasping vagina as it had ever been, held tight and motionless by her powerful muscles within. Then, her pelvis rotated forward and her hips lifted off my thighs and drove back down on me with a loud smack. The head of my cock flattened itself firmly against her cervix. The whole bed must have compressed an entire foot with the violent decent. She had started to fuck me. I didn't nor couldn't move. The only thing moving was her pelvis. She rotated it up and down and around and around while still sucking my tongue as she again began breathing furiously through her nostrils. My hands slid up her back and I found the most curious thing. Her entire spine was dotted with beaded perspiration, but nowhere else on her back was wet. Long slow moans emanated from her throat as she drove closer and closer to orgasm. Like a machine, she pounded herself onto my cock with ever increasing speed. She was in control now, and I was just a tool she was using to try to give herself that crashing orgasm she so craved. She was fucking my brains out!

Unfortunately, I couldn't ward off my impending orgasm. My cock swelled even larger than it already was and I know she felt it because she let out a little "Oooh" when it happened. But then I exploded, pumping contraction after contraction of semen into her clenching cunt. Cum was squeezed out all around my cock as she continued to fuck me, matting our pubic hair with our frothy, slimy sex-foam. She was almost over the top, but I had nothing left to give her and at one point my spent, limp cock was spit from her farting, spasming pussy, kersplat, just before she reached her summit. She heaved and whimpered and collapsed on my chest, panting and gasping.

We lay there, her knees up under my armpits, her breasts flattened and heaving on my chest, cum trickling out of her still gaping pussy. Once our breathing returned to normal we listened to the silence. Every once in a while, I'd feel her clench her pussy and we could actually hear her slimy swollen lips opening and closing.

"Sounds like a fish out of water," she giggled. This, I had to see, so I got up and witnessed a sight I cherish in my memory to this day. Sarah knelt there on the bed, her skirt flipped up over her naked ass, her breasts squashed into the mattress, her legs spread obscenely, revealing her swollen pussy lips slowly opening and closing while my semen oozed from the opening. She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. That completed my perfect mental picture.

The next weekend we went to a lacrosse game during the day, started drinking right after the game, and continued on to a party that evening. We were both pretty wasted, but I had no idea what effect that amount of alcohol would have on Sarah. She and my friend Pat were discussing politics, and the tone of their discussion gradually turned from terse, to heated, until finally it escalated into a full blown argument. It was becoming embarrassing as my incredibly drunk girlfriend became livid and was soon literally nose to nose with Pat. Others at the party were beginning to grow concerned as the entire party's attention was now on the arguing pair in the middle of the kitchen. We all looked at each other nervously, trying to determine if we should step in and stop them before they came to blows.

Had they started swinging, my money was on Sarah, or should I say Kate. She would have dropped Pat with a right cross to the temple and that would have been exceedingly embarrassing for Pat. Our relationship as friends could not have survived such a blow; Pat would forever be referred to as the guy who got punched out by Zach's girlfriend. I stood so that I would be close enough to physically step in between them should it become necessary. Pat put his finger in Sarah's face while making a point. Kate took offense and violently slapped it away, but Pat put it back there again. Again she slapped it, but this time Pat caught her wrist when she slapped at his hand and twisted it violently. Kate struggled to re-grab, successfully sinking her nails into the back of his hand. But Pat didn't loosen his grip, and the two grimaced as their grips tightened, pulling them together until their foreheads touched. Now eyeball to eyeball, their grimaces turned to smiles and they started kissing. A peck, then a smooch, and then a lingering snog. When tongues appeared I decided that I'd seen enough and pulled her roughly away.

"What the fuck!" I exclaimed. Both giggled as both were so drunk that they really hadn't realized what they were doing. Did alcohol remove all of Sarah's inhibitions? What would happen if too much alcohol and marijuana were combined? Did I have a latent slut on my hands?

Chapter 3

OK folks, its confession time. Like most young men, I wasn't quite as effective as I'd hoped or even believed at giving oral sex. I loved it and would do it for hours, but the women on whom I had performed never came from it, except one. Fortunately for them (and me, come to think of it) they could climax vaginally through intercourse. So, either they grew impatient or I grew impatient, but either way we'd move on to fucking. Christina rode my cock to orgasm after orgasm for three days straight. Rachel was so orgasmic that I could just look at her the right way and she'd cum. As a result, I never had reason to question my technique. I used to bury my head between a girl's legs and basically fuck her with my tongue, every now and then flicking it over her clit. She would squirm and coo and begin to drip, but only once did I launch a full blown orgasm, and that was with Rachel. And, as I said before, it took very little to make Rachel cum. Well, Sarah and I had been married for six years when one night I asked her why she hadn't been as interested in sex as much as she had been when we were dating or when we were newlyweds. She didn't want to talk about it, but I wouldn't stop badgering her until I got an answer. Finally she started crying and confessed that she'd never had an orgasm! Holy fucking shit! Talk about revelations! Well this one started me on a quest to change that situation. I was determined to make my wife cum, and I pulled out all the stops in my efforts. Little did I know that it would take another twelve years to achieve! 

Now don't you dare question why it took twelve years unless you have kids, in which case you obviously understand. Those twelve years were dominated by raising our daughter, maintaining our home, and working at the jobs which provided the money for achieving said objectives. While always firmly placed at the top of any of my to-do lists, sex was barely even in her top ten. She had said that without the release of orgasm, sex was an exercise in futility. I guess those of you who have orgasms can imagine what it would be like to go twelve years without ever having achieved one! It leads to depression and a great deal of un-vented tension and anger. Having sex was something that she actually avoided. Sometimes I would be lucky to have sex once in a month. In the past fifteen years, I don't think I've gone more than seventy-two hours without bringing myself to orgasm and spewing my seed all over myself or onto the pages of some magazine. As I eventually began to read the text that went along with the photos in those magazines, I began to realize that there was added value in them as research materials.

I remember reading one voluptuous model's account of a session with one of her dates. She was lamenting his poor oral skills. She said that he gladly went down on her, but once there he proceeded to try to bring her off by pushing his tongue into her pussy. She revealed the folly of such a move by explaining that the penis was for penetration and fucking, and unless one's tongue was at least six inches long, four inches around, and hard as a rock, you were wasting your time. The tongue, with all its tiny little buds, was designed to lick, and that's what it should do. She went on to explain the proper technique. She said basically it was all about teasing, patience, build up, and timing. She also emphasized the importance of being aware of your lover's physical signs. I call it sexual perspicacity. Look it up. Well, I was stoked! Finally, I'd stumbled upon some real information. She went on to describe some really good techniques on which I've since come to rely. But there was one thing she said that made all the difference in the world. She spoke of the importance of a shaved pussy. Just typing the words makes my cock twitch; shaved pussy. For the woman, the benefits come down to a much more highly sensitized vulva. For the man, the benefits are numerous. The most obvious benefit is in not having to stop periodically to remove a hair from the back of one's tongue. Another benefit is the overwhelming beauty of a woman's pussy. The sight of a shaven pussy makes my cock hard every time. Finally, without all the hair, a man can actually see the many physical changes that take place as a woman becomes aroused. The man may well become more sexually perspicacious, and consequently a better lover. I was about to earn my Master's Degree in Cunnilingus.

The trick was going to be convincing my wife to allow me to shave her pussy. I decided the best strategy would be to lead by example. Having decided many years ago that it was ridiculous to spend money for a hair cut, I simply went to Sears and purchased a professional set of clippers, the same kind barbers use. Being an athlete, I was already used to wearing my hair short. When it had grown to the point that it was time to find a comb, it was time for a haircut. It was certainly easier and cheaper to just cut it all off myself. I had noticed that male porn stars had gotten into the habit of shaving their pubes as well, so I decided to give it a try. After cutting all the hair off my head, I plowed the clippers into the forest of hair above my cock. Soon the entire area was devoid of hair. The clippers left the area visibly clear of hair, but when I slid my fingers over it I could feel the prickly stubble. Interestingly, the sight of my hairless cock caused me to get an erection. This was actually a good thing because it tightened the skin on my scrotum and made it easier to attack the hairs on my balls without catching the skin in the clippers. 

Having finished with the clippers, I stepped into the shower to finish with the razor. My cock was now fully erect, pre-cum leaking from the tip in long, glistening strands. I lathered my groin and removed every hair with the razor until my eight inch erection looked closer to the nine-inch pussy-pleaser I wish I had. Nevertheless, I was pleased with what I saw. Whatever I lacked in length, I certainly made up for in girth. It looked awesome. I stroked it up and down slowly, admiring its powerful bend and just how incredibly hard it had grown. I flexed it forcefully so that it bobbed up and down, slapping into my open palm with an obscene sounding smack. Not bad for a "grower".

For a "grower" I was pretty pleased with what I had managed to erect. Let me explain. You see, most guys tend to fall into one of four categories; "needle dicks", "showers" (as in show), "growers" (as in grow), and "porn stars". "Needle dicks" are self explanatory. They make up maybe 10% of the male population. Those are the guys that made it necessary to install partitions at the urinals in men's rooms. Hell, they're probably the reason kids don't have to shower after gym anymore. 

Anyway, a guy is a "shower" if his flaccid cock is hanging pretty thick and meaty. They make up maybe 30% of the male population. They're always more than happy to show it off in the locker room. Usually, not much changes for the "shower" when an erection hits. His whole thing simply gets hard. There's usually very little lengthening involved, nor much of an increase in girth. What you see – albeit impressive – is what you get. 

Next, and comprising maybe 50% of the male population is the "grower". In contrast to the "shower", the "grower" experiences a two or three hundred percent increase in length and girth. Usually, there is a banana-like bend to the erection that does wonderful things to a woman's g-spot when boinking in missionary. 9 out of 10 women surveyed said they preferred "growers". 

Finally, making up another 10% of the male population, we have your porn stars. These guys are impressive freaks of nature. Simply take the qualities of the "grower" and combine them with the characteristics associated with the "shower", and you get porn star category. 

I shoved my erection into my Jockeys and went about my mission.

Dressed in micro-mesh lacrosse shorts and a ribbed cotton tank top, my wife lay across the bed reading some Harlequin Romance novel when I approached her with my request. Our daughter was spending the night at a friend's house. The TV was on in the room, but she was not watching it. I lay down on the bed perpendicular to her and lay my head on her naked thigh. My mischievous fingers caressed the smooth skin on the inside of her left knee. 

"Sarah?"

"Yes," she said, not bothering to look away from her reading, trying to ignore me.

"Will you do me a big favor?" I asked, tickling her behind her knee causing her to twitch and slap my hand away.

"What?" she snapped lowering her book and looking at me over her reading glasses. "Can I shave your pussy?" I asked, smiling up at her as I tickled the back of her thigh again, causing her to giggle.

"No, go away," she said, slapping my hand away again. I continued to find and tickle those sensitive points on her legs that kept her squirming and giggling. I whined for her consent. "Pppppplease," I burbled in my best Roger Rabbit voice. "I promise..."





The Creation of M.P.S.



"Promise what? Leave me alone, go away!" she giggled. My fingers lightly touched the smooth skin along the insides of her upper thighs sending little currents of electricity back and forth between her brain, her pussy, and wherever my finger tips made contact.

"I promise it will be well worth your while."

"Why?" she asked.

"Why, what?"

"Why do you want to shave my pussy? I'm not a porn star. Only porn stars shave their pussies."

"How would you know?" I shot back. She looked at me, but didn't say anything. She knew I had a point. I continued, "I here by promise that I will make you cum after having shaved your pussy." Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she tried to mask her sudden interest. I looked away from her, back to the little circles I was drawing on her thigh with my finger. She remained silent. I braced for Kate's entry, but it didn't come.

"OK," she said. This time, my eyes widened briefly. Not wanting to miss an obvious opportunity, I sprang to my feet.

"Meet me in the bathroom in ten minutes," I said over my shoulder. With the speed of the Tasmanian Devil himself, I set about cleaning the bathroom (tub and all), replacing the towels and mats, and gathering the tools I'd need to complete my mission. I was running a very hot bubble-bath when she finally poked her head into the bathroom.

"Ready for me yet?"

"Sure, come on in and have a seat on the toilet," I said as I draped a towel over the closed toilet seat. She was still wearing a ribbed "wife-beater" style tank-top and a pair of full-cut panties, having removed the shorts. Jeez, I'm going to have to do something about her collection of panties. "Take your panties off first." She hooked her thumbs in the waist band, slid her panties down her thighs and dropped them to the floor, a movement all women make look sexy whether they're trying to or not. I positioned her on the edge of the toilet, had her lean back against the tank and place one leg on the sink next to her while her other foot I positioned on the doorknob to her right. She was completely open to me. I felt like a gynecologist. 

I pulled the clippers from their box and warmed up the metal on my thigh while staring at the tangled patch of pubic hair. The clippers produced a very loud buzz when I snapped the switch to turn them on. With the application of two drops of the machine oil to the mincing blades, the buzzing sound changed to a strong hum. Sarah looked down at me with a look of curious anticipation. Nowhere in her gaze was fear or apprehension. I plowed the clippers across the pubic hair just bellow her belly and dropped the bushy handful into the little trash can that's in the bathroom. The plump flesh of her pubic mound was now exposed and we both smiled at its beauty. I lay my hand on the side of her vulva and stretched the skin allowing the clippers to cleanly remove the hair from her labia majora. I repeated the process on the other side and sat back to admire my progress. Except for some stubble and a few stray hairs, the majority of her pussy was hairless. It was beautiful.

I looked down at my cock which was straining against the material of my tighty-whiteys. Pre-cum was oozing through the material, a clear strand connecting the tip of my prick to the puddle on the bathmat on which I knelt. I glanced at Sarah. She sat there, arms crossed under her boobs while holding the bottom of her tank-top up and out of the way. Her hard nipples poked at the ribbed material encasing them. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit down on it softly as her eyes met mine, glanced quickly at my wet bulge, then back at her own pussy. I shut off the clippers and listened to the thick silence. Not wanting to break the mood, I quickly moved to step two and pulled closer a small bowl of warm water, shaving gel, and a fresh razor I had prepared and left handy. The pink gel seemed so appropriately erotic that I had to smile as I smoothed it all over her pudenda and into the crack of her ass. She flinched a bit when my fingers slid over her asshole. 

Working quickly and deliberately I removed the pink foam and the hair under it. Each pass of the razor revealed smooth, glistening skin. When her vulva was completely smooth I moved on to the more tedious parts. Gripping both inner lips closed as best as I could, I pulled them away from her body and gingerly shaved the area where her inner lips met her outer lips. Once that had been done on both sides, I worked on the apex of skin above her hooded clitoris. First, I pulled the hood down over her clit and shaved the hairs that normally faced each other there. I had to actually grasp her clit, hood and all, in order to manipulate the area so my razor had access to a normally inaccessible crevice. She didn't make a sound, just stared intently at what I was doing. Then, I switched my attention to the bottom of her pussy to get the few hairs that were nestled around her puckered asshole. I pinched a generous amount of the soft flesh that hung over the edge of the seat and pulled it to the side. The shaving gel obscured her anus, so I wiped it away with my finger and she trembled. It sounded more like her stomach growling, but I'm sure it was a moan. She laid her head back on the tank and closed her eyes as I continued to shave. I passed the razor around the bulbous protrusions of her butt cheeks, exposing more beautiful soft skin. Finally, I was finished.

I dumped the hairy water and refilled the bowl with fresh, warm water which I slowly poured over her completely bald pussy. The water cascaded over her mound, little rivulets tickling their way over and around her meaty pussy lips to drip from her hanging buttocks, soaking the towel underneath. Each time a tiny trickle of water passed over her asshole, the orifice constricted and then relaxed. Then the most amazing and beautiful thing happened. Her swollen pussy lips that I had squeezed shut in order to manipulate her labia slowly peeled themselves open and a tiny droplet of pearly liquid emerged from the bottom of her now gaping pussy and hung there, threatening to meander down the short distance to her asshole. Before it could make its journey, I leaned forward and pushed it back into her pussy with the tip of my tongue. It wasn't a squeal, or a moan, or a word, or a shudder, or a shiver, or a sigh, but it sure felt like a combination of a sensation and an emotion all wrapped up in one as it audibly left her.

Retracting my tongue I stood quickly, gathered my tools and opened the door. "Enjoy your bath," I said over my shoulder. "I'll wait for you in bed." I closed the door behind me.

I sat there on the bed, naked, freshly showered and shorn, waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom. After about fifteen minutes I heard the clank of the bathtub drain being opened and gurgle of water rushing swiftly down the pipe. Then there was the hiss of the shower spraying into the tub, against the shower curtain and on bare skin. I listened and tried to imagine what she looked like in there rinsing off. Finally, the shower stopped. After a minute or two the light in the bathroom went out, the door opened, and she walked quickly out of the bathroom pressing a white towel to her chest. Her left arm acted like a curtain rod, supporting the towel and as much of her large breasts as she could gather with one arm. The towel only covered a portion of her chest, from nipple to nipple, while the rest of it gathered in her crotch as she hurried toward the bed. Each step sent all sorts of graceful curves and rounded features into tantalizing motion, a wonderful combination of swaying, bouncing, and jiggling, all rhythmically repeating with every foot fall. Tiny droplets of water lost their grip and tumbled helplessly over the shifting surfaces and into the valleys of flesh. She turned to face the bed and spread the towel she had been holding out on the edge. As she slowly and purposefully smoothed the wrinkles out of the towel with the palms of her hands she let her nipples barely graze the Terri-clothed fabric. She knew I was glued to her every movement. She watched her nipples drag back and forth over the towel and then she looked at me. Her eyes held a sparkle of what seemed to be impatient determination. She picked up a bottle of clear baby oil, turned her back to me and plopped herself down on the bed. 

Hefting her left breast with her left hand, she pulled roughly on the dark areola, leaving a distended nipple still swelling and pointing toward the ceiling. Her carefully manicured nails made tiny dimples where they pressed against the skin as she palmed and squeezed the melon sized mammary. The thumb and forefinger of the hand with which she held the breast closed around the erect nipple and she squeezed an oily ribbon of clear fluid onto the bulging tit, snapped the nozzle closed, and dropped it casually onto the bed beside her. The heavy plastic bottle bounced erratically, coming to rest against her right hip with a wet smack that sent tiny ripples across the plump flesh of her flared hips. She slathered the shiny oil all over her left breast, arm, shoulder, elbow and flank, smearing it over and over the same areas in a continuous pattern until all of the oil and tiny water droplets left were absorbed into her skin, giving it a warm, satiny glow. She repeated the process for her right side, and then she stood to do her legs.

She looked over her shoulder at me to see if I was still watching as she filled her hands with more baby oil and bent over fully at the waist presenting a most round and succulent backside, accentuated by two deep dimples above each cheek. She slapped each cheek with her hands saturated with oil and smoothed it down the backs of her legs, all the way to her ankles, up the front of her shins and thighs, then around again. At the end of her second rotation she looked back over her shoulder at me and gave me a coy little smile. Each time she bent to reach the backs of her heels, the skin drew tight across her ass and the hairless mound of her pussy bulged outward forcing the ruffled ridges of her inner lips to protrude obscenely just below her puckered butt hole. And each time she brought her hands up the backs of her thighs, her back arched, and her fingers dragged the bulbous haunches of her beautiful brown bubble-butt upward and outward so that the curled petals of her labia were pulled open for a brief moment and then forced closed as the cycle continued again. With each cycle her hands slid deeper and deeper into the crack of her ass where each finger tip slid deliciously over her tight little asterisk leaving it glistening until her cheeks closed again and hid it from my view. On her last pass she held her cheeks open and flexed the inner muscles of her pussy. The lower portion of her puffy pudenda contracted inward and her anus pulsed each time she clenched them. I realized that I hadn't taken a breath in a while. I sucked in a quick hit of air and blew it out forcefully. My cock was bobbing up and down with my heart beat, pre-cum cascading from the tip like candle wax.

Placing the jar of oil on the night-stand she carefully laid herself out on her back, closed her eyes, and stretched her arms out above her head. With each hand she established a firm grip on the wooden stringers of the head board and took a deep breath. Her abundant bosom, slightly flattened by gravity into two large mounds rose majestically from her chest. They were like round loaves of warm pumpernickel with nipples the size of a single segment of Tootsie Roll. Her stomach collapsed into a concave valley that sloped from her expanded rib cage. Her skin was the color of smooth, rich milk chocolate and there was not a blemish or flaw on its surface. I rolled over onto my hands and knees, crawled into position beside her torso, and drank in the fruity fragrances of the scented baby oil mixed with the intoxicating aroma of an excited pussy. Brushing my lips lightly across her left cheek she turned her head to the right to allow me full access to her long neck. The tip of my tongue flicked at her earlobe and then left a moist trail down the side of her neck and into that little well just above her collar bone. From there, tiny kisses dotted a trail up the north face of her left breast. At the summit I traced the foothills of her areola with the smooth underside of the tip of my tongue, slowly swirling around and around one helpless nipple. Her hips rotated slowly and a low moan rose from the back of her throat. I spent the next fifteen minutes tenderly kneading, squeezing, kissing, licking, tweaking, nibbling, tickling, caressing, and sucking her beautiful breasts. I showed no mercy, giving each mammary it's just due. The sight of her lower body gyrating in search of something to quench her need, fill her void, and send her off into the orgasmic beyond, further stiffened my already massive erection.

Reluctantly, I ended my session with her swollen mammaries and continued my southern trek. Dragging my tongue down her stomach, I paused briefly to dip the tip into her belly button before moving on to my desired destination. Scooting deep down into the foot of the bed to achieve a better angle of attack for the oral assault I was about to mount on her pussy, I gently parted her legs and bent each at the knee. Again, with the tip of my tongue, I traced a line of saliva down the inside of her left thigh. I grabbed her lower leg just above the ankle and, lifting it to the sky, tickled the back of her knee with rapid flicks of my tongue. Then, retracing my steps back to her pussy, I breathed hot air onto her steaming mound, being careful not to touch it at all as I passed over it to give her right leg the same treatment.

By this time she was absolutely beside herself with desire. She hadn't lost her grip on the bed, but she was slowly losing her grip on her sanity as my hot mouth hovered over her crotch. Sliding my palms under her ass cheeks, I pushed my thumbs into the sides of her incredibly swollen vulva, and watched as her labia were squeezed to the surface. From the distended petals of her inner lips dripped the sweetest nectar, the sight of which would have coaxed some drool from Pavlov himself. I pulled my thumbs outward and her labia popped open leaving lacy strands of mucous spanning the inviting orifice. 

Into the smooth crevice between her inner lips and her outer lips I slid the pointed tip of my tongue. "Mmmh," she moaned. Her whole body tensed and shuddered as my saliva laden tongue traced horseshoe patterns around the gaping hole. With each lap around her swollen labia the fleshy flaps wiggled and wobbled, and with each lap I let the underside of my tongue slide over the little tent of skin that covered her clitoris. "Ooh," she breathed. I laid my right hand on top of her pubic mound and gently pressed down and pulled my hand back toward her stomach. The tent of skin covering her clit retracted, fully exposing her clitoris as it rotated upward. Back and forth my tongue flittered just below the pink bud, ratcheting up the intensity of her impending orgasm. "Oh, yes, that's it... just like that, just like that," she encouraged. Then, soaking three fingers in my mouth, I slid them all at once into her gaping pussy. "Nnnnnnnnh, fuck," she hissed through clenched teeth.

With a flutter of fingers I assaulted the walls of her vagina while sucking her clit against my flicking tongue. "Ooh, yes..., yees..., yeeees...," she said, each word slightly louder than the previous one. Rotating my hand so that my palm was facing up, I found the ridged flesh of her G-spot and massaged it with my fluttering fingertips. "Oh, god I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, aahhhhhh, I'm... ohmygod ahhh YES, YES, YES!" I literally heard my knuckles crack when her cunt contracted around my fingers. I couldn't have pulled my fingers out even if I had wanted to. So, I reached up with my right hand and squeezed the nipple on her left breast and her hips lifted completely off the bed. She screamed. I thought for sure that the subsequent contraction had broken at least two of my fingers. Juice was funneling furiously out of her pussy and puddling in the palm of my hand. I almost came just watching her orgasm envelop her. What a beautiful sight.

She lay there quivering and moaning uncontrollably for maybe a minute, my hand firmly locked in her box. Any attempt to extricate my fingers was futile as each movement on my part stimulated the excited nerves in her pussy and forced the hole to close tighter around my fingers. The only sound in the room was her heavy, labored breathing. A single tear formed in the corner of her left eye, rolled along her temple, and disappeared into her hair. She wiped the next one away with the back of her hand.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you made me cum," she said rapidly, wiping tears from both eyes now. She let out a choked giggle, and then looked at me to see if I were real or a dreamed vision. Satisfied that I was really there and that she had in fact just had her first orgasm, she laid her head back on the pillow and let out a long, cathartic sigh. Finally, I slid my fingers out carefully, cradling the puddle of cum I'd just coaxed from her pussy in my palm. I turned my hand over so that my fingers pointed down towards her mound and basted her pussy with her own juices. The milky white fluid that dribbled over her pulsing flesh resembled coconut milk. The tiny trickles of cum all converged just below her pussy where they became a tiny river that washed over her convulsing anus and further into the crack of her ass.

My cock was rock hard, pulsing up and down with my heartbeat. As usual, a strand of pre-cum connected the swollen head of my cock tip to a significant pool of the natural lubricant that had been deposited on the bed between my legs. She sat up quickly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. I stood between her legs with my cock pointing upwards toward her chin. The strand of pre-cum had snapped leaving a long, slimy trail across her left thigh which now squished into the glistening puddle my cock had left there. She leaned forward and laid a wet kiss on the head of my massive erection. Then she cupped her breasts, pushed them together, and used them to gather up my cock and bring it closer to her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the head and she slowly drew as much of my member into her mouth as she could. I felt her uvula tickle the slit at the end of my penis. She slowly drew her mouth off of my cock only to slide it back in with a wonderfully nasty slurping sound.

Just when I was sure I would have to end this before I came, she stood up, turned to face away from me, and laced her fingers in mine, her palms down, mine up. "Spread your legs slightly," she said, and then arched her back so that her smooth round ass rose invitingly. She rose up on her tip-toes and walked backward until her feet were on top of mine. I watched with astonishment as her gooey pussy lips parted and she lowered them onto the dorsal side of my cock like a saddle. The head of my cock stuck out just beyond her pussy with her clit positioned perfectly on the ridge of my helmet. She slid back and forth on my shaft just far enough for her clit to ride over the ridge of my helmet with each rotation of her hips. Her butt cheeks slid up and down on my loins and she arched her back so severely that her head rested on my chest just below my chin.

After only about seven or eight gyrations her body tensed and shivered which caused her to lose her balance. Onto the bed she flopped with a giggle, but quickly rose to her hands and knees. She looked back over her shoulder at me. Her expression suddenly became very serious. "Fuck me," she whispered. I dropped to my knees on the floor next to the bed so that my face was at the same level as her waiting booty. My hands caressed the smooth skin of her provocatively perched buttocks, and I briefly, oh so briefly, enjoyed the view. Leaning forward I buried my face in the crack of her ass. First, my tongue slid in between her shaved and swollen labia to swirl around the tangy sauce that coated her flesh. As I strained to lengthen my tongue in order to tease her clit, my nose pressed against and parted her puckered butt hole. The excited orifice gently encircled the tip of my nose as she whimpered, cooed, and quivered. She slid her hands out in front of her so that her hanging breasts squashed into the bed. Her right cheek pressed against the bed in such a way that her lips were puckered into the cutest pout. She licked them with her tongue before pleading urgently for my cock.