15 comments/  0 views/  10 favorites

Are You...?

By: HankDolworth



Author's Note:

This is a short one, a quick little romp. I thought it would be fun to write, and it was. I'm entering it into as a Valentine's Day 2016 Contest Story. If you enjoyed the tale, I'd be honored to earn your votes. Comments welcome too. 

Enjoy!

*****

Are You...?

I idled near the entrance to the local mall. It was old, and slowly dying, but it probably would have a store that would serve my purpose. I needed to find a Valentine's gift for my wife. Well a dual purpose gift, it was our wedding anniversary too. I was doubly fucked.

I was distracted, last night's open conversation with my wife replaying through my mind. It was honest and frank. Our sex life was good, but less frequent due to our schedules, and we were both frustrated by it. I was gone five days a week working on a consulting project. She had weekend conferences she ran to support her home business. We passed each other briefly on Friday nights and Sunday afternoons. I'd admitted that I might as well stay over the weekend and bank the extra per diem I'd make if I wasn't going to see her.

Because it was the weekend of Valentine's day, and our wedding anniversary, she didn't plan a conference. I scheduled my trip to come home Thursday, and took Monday as a vacation day. Which meant I didn't need to travel again until Monday night. That would give us three days together. I had looked forward to it. Passing as ships in the night wasn't satisfying.

We both admitted to being frustrated at the situation. We were both defensive about our own careers that seemed to drive our physical separation. Today I was even more frustrated. Mostly because today was actually Valentine's Day, and I hadn't bought her a gift yet. I was left scratching my head outside the dying mall, wondering if this was even the best place to be shopping for it.

I came home on Thursday night ready to reconnect with my wife. She was waiting for me when I came through the garage door. We kissed, and rapidly moved to the bedroom. We fell into bed, and made love. But it was the kind of sex that was more out of duty, than any raw passion. "Maintenance sex," she'd called it. I did have to hand it to her, she did try to make the most of our short times together physically. She also called them, "Lube jobs," said they'd keep me from straying while I was away from home so much. She was still a knock-out, and was willing to please me in many ways sexually. 

So Friday morning started out on a good note. We made love again in the morning, then got to work. We wanted to make the weekend special, so Friday was a day to do all the normal chores to get ready for the next week. If we were successful, we'd be free for three days to reconnect. 

Connection was what we were lacking most. The time to connect and communicate, continue the intimacy of man and wife. We were still physically attracted to each other, but physical love can't make up for the distance that occurs with extended time away from each other. 

Emails, text messages, and the internet didn't help. We mostly used them for the mandatory communications. "Mission Control," she called our frequent emails and instant messages. The dull kind that kept us up to date on paying bills, doctors appointments, car maintenance. It was never the kind of deep conversations that keep two grown married people intimate.

So Friday was chores and get reacquainted day. We spent time together, had lunch. Finished the rest of the household chores. We both wanted the weekend to be special. That evening was when the distance between us really manifested. She started getting catty, I responded defensively. We separated, she went to the gym, I went to an action adventure flick alone. We came back and fought more. 

Then we had angry sex. Even though we were both angry and hurt, our practice of keeping a physical relationship still motivated us to engage physically. It was violently hot, hair pulling, nail scratching. Hips twisting, and somewhat more arousing than our normal maintenance sex. In the end though, after our climaxes, we selfishly disengaged. We slept with our backs turned to each other. My own eyes filled to the brim with tears of frustration.

"Was I losing my wife?" I thought.

Saturday was supposed to be the first day of our romantic Valentine's Day slash Marriage Anniversary weekend. We both woke up still chafed from the aftermath of Friday evening's arguments, and bitter separation. We were adults about it, and we knew we needed to talk about it. We are also human, so we avoided it most of the day. We went to coffee, walked around the mall, saw a romantic comedy. That was a mistake, because as with most romcoms, the arc always involves a bitter breakup. On the heels of our Friday apocalypse it felt a bit raw. 

We ate dinner silently, both pre-occupied by our phones. The nice restaurant faded into the background. I started planning for the next week on different travel sites. She seemed to be reading something that captivated her. By the end of the meal, we were both tired of the distance we'd created. It was time to talk.

We got home and sat on the sofa. She could tell I was stiff and defensive. I could tell she felt much the same way. She looked at me with a slight frown.

"Do you remember," she started, "back in college, when we were dating, you had a problem with smoking?"

"Yeah," I said, "I hated that I had the habit, I bought some of those tapes to listen to, some hypnosis mumbo jumbo thing. In the end I just made a decision to stop smoking. It was hard, but I did it."

"Was it the tapes?" she asked curiously.

"I don't think so," I answered honestly, "I never felt hypnotized, they did help me fall asleep easily though. Pretty expensive sleep aid."

"You're probably right," she smiled, "I was just thinking of how we could relax, and make this conversation easier. It's not fun to talk about how our marriage is crumbling."

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," I said, "and got angry. Work is high stress, and as much as I want to flip a switch, it's always in the back of my mind."

"Is it just work?" she asked, "I know my weekends are stressful, but they are also fun. We go out and have fun during the evenings. It is all a bunch of women interested in scrapbooking, but they are all out by themselves on the weekends."

"What do a bunch of women away from home do?" I asked, curious.

"Go to bars and flirt with guys," she answered honestly.

My eyes must have widened defensively, because she held up a hand, "I don't, honey. They do. I go along. It's fun to watch. I'm stuck remembering how you're home alone and I'm away."

"So you've never looked at another guy, with interest?" I asked, still a bit chafed.

"Well yeah, I'm a female in my sexual prime," she offered, "Don't tell me you hole up in your room and work all night, I know you go out with your co-workers."

I cast my eyes downward, "Busted," I said, cowed, "It's so hard being away from you. When we are together before you leave, it's always so hot. I love you and I love making love to you. I guess it's just the temptation of forbidden fruit."

"So," she started hesitantly, "What if we gave each other a hall-pass?"

"A hall-pass?" I asked, not understanding what she was implying.

"Yeah," she said, then scooted closer, "Once a quarter say, we let ourselves go for that one night stand, that one piece of forbidden fruit. If we both do it, and it isn't a secret, we could make it work?"

I must have turned about fifty shades of red, because she quickly backtracked, "If you don't want to, then I won't either."

I stayed silent, my thoughts swirled. On the one hand, I didn't want to be that cuckold husband, that knew his wife was unfaithful. On the other hand, being the handsome adulterer that lured sexy lonely women for a one night romp was oddly appealing. I was angry at myself for thinking it was okay, and also angry at her for thinking I would be. I was a swirl of emotions.

"Oh honey," she said and hugged me, and pulled my head to her chest., "Relax, I'm not going to cheat on you."

I leaned back, my head on her chest, her breasts soft against my skull. My shoulders rested on her abdomen, and I felt the warmth of her core against my spine. She stretched one leg out along the floor, and the other bent at the knee between me and the sofa back. She rubbed her fingers in circles at my temples.

"Relax, lover," she said softly, in a deeper tone.

I closed my eyes, and let my thoughts dissipate. The confusion of what she had asked was boiling in my brain. Her responses, I thought logically, showed it was just an idea. My emotions were in turmoil though. 

"Did she want to fuck another guy?" I wondered.

"Shhh, just Relax, lover," she repeated.

Her fingertips rested lightly at my temples and then crested along the tops of my ears. The light touch along my short cropped hair did the magic, and I relaxed. Her voice grew deeper, and the repetitive words echoed in my brain.

"Relax lover," she cooed, "Relax."

As my body sagged, her tone went softer, even a deeper timbre to her voice.

"You feel so good relaxing," she instructed, and I did, "now just rest and relax, sleep."

I lost track of the time, as her touch, the closeness of her body, were soothing. I sagged into darkness and felt like I was in a warm fluffy cocoon. I relaxed more and more, she kept talking, but I lost track of what she said.

'Wake up," she said, and my eyes snapped open.

"I'm sorry," I said, " It was a long day. Should we go to bed?"

"Yes," she smiled, "I'm tired too. Would you mind reading me a story? I want to save our lovemaking for tomorrow.

"Sure thing," I said. 

I felt alert and for the first time all day relaxed. We changed into our pajamas. She wore a simple night shirt, and I put on my boxers. She slipped into bed, and laid on her pillow. I sat up on my side of the bed, and turned on my light. She turned and grabbed a sheet of paper, and gave it to me.

"Just read that," she said. 

Then she turned to her side and looked at her phone. The light on her screen pulsed gently. I looked at the sheet of paper, and read it. The text wasn't difficult, it was kind of boring. When I was finished she was out like a light. I took the paper into the bathroom, and lit one of the matches we kept on the counter. 

"Such a boring story," I thought to myself lighting the match, "I will just tell her I lost it,"

By the time the flames had rendered the paper into ash, I had forgotten ever reading the story. I went into the bedroom and shut off her phone. She blinked her eyes open, as I kissed her forehead.

"Good night lover," she said, and closed her eyes again.

I suddenly felt very tired and by the time I pulled the covers over me, I was asleep.

When I woke up, she was gone. I scratched my head, as I regained consciousness. I was confused, and it took a few moments to realize what day it was today. Valentine's Day. Our Wedding Anniversary. I hadn't bought her a gift!

I scrambled out of bed, and got dressed. She left a note on the bathroom sink.

"Out shopping for dinner," she wrote, "Forgot to pick up the wine. I'll be back by dinner time."

I relaxed, "I have most of the day to figure out her present," I thought. "Now just to figure out what to get her."

I'll go to the mall," I thought to myself, "Even I could find something there."

My horrible gift giving was legendary over our previous nine wedding anniversaries. It turns out that most women don't really want kitchen appliances for romantic holidays. Practical gifts also got a chuckle and a pat on the head. 

"Maybe next year," she would laugh.

It troubled me, and after last night's discussion, I knew I had to nail it this year. If I failed, and with us both confessing to looking outside of our marriage bed, ten might be our last. So I was milling about outside the mall, still trying to figure out what to buy her. It must have been the white flower the woman wore in her hair that snapped me out of my reverie. 

She wore her blonde hair down just past her shoulders. A simple hair band with a white flower was her only decoration. She wore a denim jacket against the cool morning air, and was walking into the mall with a look of determination. The skirt of her dress danced just above her knees, showing off some well formed thighs. I quickly made my way to her side. I noticed she wore a wedding band, and figured she was on a similar mission.

"Excuse me," I said, "Are you the type of girl that would help a man find a ten year anniversary gift for his wife?"

She started to turn and smile at me, then her eyes blanked for a second, and then she smiled.

"I must be," she grinned, "because maybe you could help me find the perfect gift for my husband."

"Well I'll try," I said, "my gift giving failures are legendary."

"Well you must be doing something right, to make it ten years," she smiled and I felt warm all over.

She hooked her hand around my elbow, and then led me off to the lingerie shop.

"The standard things are usually safe; roses, chocolate and pretty skimpy things to wear in the bedroom," she said, "then there is always jewlery, diamonds are never a bad idea."

I got a little uncomfortable going into the women's shop with a woman who wasn't my wife. her demeanor put me at ease though. This shop was well prepared for the holiday, in a few minutes, I had a bag with chocolate, a bundle of flowers, and a diamond pendant necklace that would look great around my wife's neck.

There was still the issue of the pretty skimpy things to wear in the bedroom. For that I was at a loss.

"Are you the type of guy that likes to see things before he buys things?" she asked with a smile, walking through the stands of thongs, bras and negligee.

"I must be," answered, "because I'd love to see what you look like wearing that."

I blushed, not really knowing what had gotten into me. I was pointing at an outfit made for a wedding night. If you could really call it an outfit, thigh high silk stockings, a lacy thong with a wide waist that had lace straps that traced along the mannequin's torso and under the form's breasts, leaving them bare. A simple strap with buttons connected a lace choker and traced a clean white line between its breasts. The bald head of the mannequin had a lacy white hair band with a lace veil that fell down the back of the form.

"Scandalous," she smiled, "I like it though, for a wedding anniversary, a wife would want to be reminded of her wedding night."

"Are you the type of married woman that would model an outfit for a strange man?" I asked, slightly taken aback by my own boldness.

"I must be," she answered, "Because I think if I tell the clerk we're married, she'll let you come back with me."

"Well we are married," I said, "just not to each other."

She grinned, and again grabbed my elbow and soon we were led back to a dressing room. I sat on the bench, and held the light flimsy garments in my hand. She shrugged off her denim jacket, and I got my first look at her breasts under her nicely fitted dress. I must have blushed because she smiled and stood tall and confidently. Having another man admire your figure must have built up her confidence.

"Are you the type of husband that would watch another man's wife strip naked?" she asked with a giggle.

"I must be," I said, "because if you don't hurry, I might have to undress you."

She smiled and reached behind and unzipped her dress. She leaned towards me shrugging her shoulders to push the dress down. She held the dress to her chest to tease me, then dropped it slowly, revealing a lacy red bra that pushed up her breasts and exposed the creamy flesh beautifully. She dropped the dress, and stepped out of it. Her matching red panties were revealed to be a thong as she turned around and bent over at the waist to pick up her dress and hang in on a hook.

My jeans were becoming tighter, her body was sexy. A trim figure, but with all the right curves. From every angle she was beautiful. I looked at her, then looked at the pretty skimpy things in my hands.

"Are you the type of wife to strip naked, then try on something that hardly covers anything?" I asked.

"I must be," she echoed, "because I want you too look at how hard you've made my nipples staring at me like that."

She reached back and unsnapped the bra, then held the cups and slowly let it fall down. One plump pink nipple popped from under the lace soon followed by its twin on her other breast. I collected the pretty skimpy things in one hand, and gripped my thickening erection with the other, adjusting it in my trousers.

"Are you the type of husband that get's hard watching another man's wife strip?" she asked, dropping the bra and turning around.

"I must be," answered huskily, dropping the pretty skimpy things on the floor, "because all I want to do is help you take off your thong."

She purred and wiggled her pert bottom in the air as I approached. I sank to my knees behind her, and my hands floated up her thighs to the thin red line of the waistband. I kissed one of her ass cheeks then the other. My fingers tugged the waistband down over her round firm bottom. She spread her legs and leaned further down. I inhaled her scent as the red lace fell from her pussy that was right in front of my nose.

"Are you the type of slutty wife," I asked, "that gets wet at the touch of another man?"

"I must be," she said with a low moan, "because I can feel it drip on my thigh"

I cupped my hand and placed it between her thighs. I pressed my fingertips into her sex as I stood up and felt her wet heat as my fingers wormed into her flesh. Her cunt was bare, just a tuft of hair at the front, so my fingers were rubbing her lips tenderly as she moaned her approval.

"Are you the type of man that enjoys a woman's mouth around his cock," she panted as I stood up keeping my fingers rotating through her folds.

"I must be," I said pulling my hand away and unbuckling my belt, "because I want to see how big your eyes are when you look up at me from your knees."

She turned at the end of my sentence, falling to her knees and helping tug down my trousers. Her hand felt my hardness through my boxers, and coaxed it through the hole in the front. Her fingers felt wonderful as she pushed my foreskin back, then licked at the exposed tip. I groaned as she kissed and licked at the sensitive crown. Her blue eyes fluttered and then locked on mine as she opened her mouth and sucked on the head.

I combed my fingers through her hair, tossing her head band aside, then grabbing a handful of her blond mane.

"Are you the type of slut that likes to have a man's hand control your head when you are sucking his dick," I said, my deep voice filled with aggressive lust.

"I must be," she huffed pulling her mouth away and stroking my shaft, pulling the foreskin over the head and tugging it back, "because I want to feel this monster in the back of my throat."

I gripped her head with both hands, and she opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out. I pressed my hips forward and her tongue lapped along the underside as I drove my hard cock into her mouth. My mind was swimming in how wrong this was, having another man's wife choke on my cock. It only fueled my lust and soon I was buried in her throat and her drool dripped from the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes looked up at me, her light mascara darker from the tears at the corners of her eyes. She nodded her head, making my cock swell as she sucked and bobbed. I grabbed her head, then held it still, and thrust my hips fucking her mouth, the small room filled with the sounds of a wet face fucking.

I pulled her head back, and yanked her hair down, her eyes ablaze with her own lust, she managed to ask, "Are you the type of man that fills a sluts mouth with his hot seed?"


Are You...?



"I must be," I said before I rammed my cock in her mouth, and fucked her head until my balls tightened. I pulled back, leaving my head just past her lips and felt my cum spurt in jets into her open and willing mouth. She looked up at me as she waited until I was done, then showed me my load, then swallowed it.

"Are you the type of girl that will remember the taste of another man's cum," I asked, "when she is fucking her husband tonight."

"I must be," she said, rising from her knees and kissing me, the taste of my own sperm still on her lips. She wrapped her body tightly against me, "because I hope you're the type of man that has another load for her."

I twisted her around and lowered her to the bench, she sat on the edge and spread her legs, her bare cunt spreading wide. The tuft of blonde hair reminding me that she was naturally blonde. She looked up at me as her finger ran up the length of her pussy.

"Are you the type of man that will taste another woman," she asked, "so he can better appreciate his own wife's pussy?"

I sank to my knees, and lowered my head, "I must be," was all that I said with words. The rest I showed her as my tongue cleaved between her outer lips.

She groaned, trying to stay quiet in the dressing room as my tongue explored every fold. Her hands lifting lightly to my head, caressing along my hairline above my ears. She tasted exotic, sweet and tangy. I couldn't get enough of her juice, and I lapped her slit deeply. My mouth sealed around her lips and sucked. My tongue cleaving between her engorged lips as I teased her opening.

I lifted my mouth and the tip of my tongue found her clit. Her hard bud stiff under my wet muscle, I flicked the hood back and swirled my tongue over the delicate bundle of nerves. She arched back, her hips lifting up to feel more of my lips and tongue. My fingers worried the lips around her opening, then found the spot and slid in. I curled the tips of two fingers inside and teased the top as my lips, teeth and tongue tormented her clitoris.

She writhed, and bucked. her thighs clamping around my ears. Her pussy spasmed and I lowered my mouth and drank the sudden flood or her spending. I drank of her ambrosia and savored the taste. She relaxed and I lifted my head up, then rose and kissed her lips.

"Are you the type of husband," she asked, "that will kiss your wife while another women's cream has dried to your face?"

"I must be," I said huskily, "because I want to remember how sweet your cunt tastes."

She smiled and kissed me again. My hands lifted to her breasts, cupping them then lowering my mouth to suckle one of her perfect nipples. She keened and arched her back offering me more of her beautiful breasts.

"Are you the type of slut," I asked, "that will beg for another man's cock?"

"I must be," she cooed, putting her hands under my armpits and lifting, "because I so want to feel your big thick cock in my dripping cunt. Will you please fuck me?

I pulled her to the edge of the bench, and on my knees my cock settled between her open thighs. She rocked her hips, her juices and my saliva coating the underside of my thick shaft. She reached down with both hands to grip my shaft. Fingers peeling back my foreskin, while her hand pushed my shaft down. I groaned at the feel of her hot folds surrounding the sensitive crown, then I thrust slowly, feeling her tight passage surround my cock.

"Are the you the type of stud," she said, "that will fuck a slut hard, and make her feel every stroke?"

I lifted up off my knees and rocked, my thighs slamming forward then hips drawing back. I pulled her back more, her back lying flat on the bench. Her back arched, her hips lifted, meeting my every stroke. I reached down and grabbed her breasts, no long gentle, but rough. I gripped her tits and squeezed.

"I must be," I grunted as I fucked her like an animal, my fingers tightening into her full breasts, "I want your husband to wonder why your tits are bruised."

With that we fucked. We animal fucked. We raged in our lust and passion. Our moans and grunts growing louder. We ignored the knock on the door, we lost track of anything else. I wanted to possess this girl under me. That had bewitched me. That had teased me to the point I broke my wedding vows. I was angry at myself for my weakness, for my infidelity. 

She looked up at my wildly, her hips cresting and then falling with each of my strokes. Her breaths coming in keening moans. Her eyes wilds, tears running down her cheek. Darkened by her mascara, like black tears. Was she thinking of me, or her husband? 

We reached our peaks simultaneously, and I exploded with my cock deep inside of her. Her orgasm forced her muscles to clench and pulse, milking every last ounce of my seed into her womb. I stopped my thrusts and leaned down to kiss her. She returned the kiss, then turned her cheek.

The door was being banged on from the outside.

"You can't do that in here!" a voice cried, "Get out! In five minutes I'm calling security!"

With that we broke contact, and hurriedly dressed. She checked her makeup quickly in the mirror, wiping away the black streaks of mascara. Her eyes were bright, welling as she looked at her reflection. She caught sight of my face in the reflection, and turned holding her red thong.

"Are you the type of man," she asked softly, "that wants a reminded of something wonderful, that can never happen again?"

I nodded, then said, "I must be, because I think I'll buy you those pretty skimpy things to wear for your husband tonight."

She smiled and pressed the red thong, with a very moist gusset into my palm. Lifting onto her toes to kiss me. I kissed her softly, gone the hunger of our infidelity. I would remember this, and I wondered if she would too.

"Are you the type of girl," I asked, "that will keep a man's seed in her womb, and remember him as it drips down your thigh?"

She blushed and picked up her jacket and shrugged it on, "I must be," she said, "because the feel of your cum on my thigh turns me on."

I paid for the white pretty skimpy things then gave the bag to her. She kissed my cheek, and I thanked her for the gift advice. I left the mall with my bag of chocolates, roses and a diamond necklace. It wasn't long until I had agreed to meet my wife for dinner, we had a Valentine's tradition of steak dinner, and I needed to get the grill going.

I went home and she wasn't back yet. I popped the top off a beer, and took a long slow pull of the alcohol. I licked my lips after I swallowed, and recalled the taste of the blonde girl in the mall.

"I didn't even catch her name," I thought to myself. 

I started wondering who I was to fall so easily for a girl I didn't know. I seasoned the steaks automatically, and then went to the patio. I fired up the grill, and rubbed the back of my head as I waited for the grill to heat up.

"Honey?!" I heard my wife call, "I am home!"

"Back here!" I called, "cooking the steaks."

She came out on the patio and I was a bit worried. Her eyes were dark around the edges as if she'd been crying. she shrugged off her denim jacket and rushed to me in her simple black dress. I wrapped her in my arms, and she hugged me tight.

"What's the matter?" I asked as she pushed back, then lifted herself on her toes to kiss me.

Her blonde hair was damp, she must have been working hard, or hurrying, to have perspired on this not too warm day. She kissed me, then looked up at me with an odd expression.

"That's an odd tasting beer." she said, "very exotic."

I blushed a bit, "Yeah," I managed, "these microbrews can have some funky tastes now and then."

She smiled and looked up at me, "So, tell me?" she asked, "are you the type of guy that likes his blowjob before his steak or after?"

I must have blanched a bit at the thought of her giving me a blowjob less than an hour after fucking some strange woman at the mall. But somehow the thought also aroused me, would she know? Could she tell? Would this be the end. 

I felt guilty for what I'd done, and was resigned that if this was the end of our marriage, I would still love and care for her.

"I must be," I said, "because hearing you say those words made my dick hard."

Her hands felt along my shaft, and she smiled a feline smile. She sank down, squatting at my feet. and opened my belt and and pushed down my trousers. My cock sprang free and she hungrily took the head into her mouth. I groaned at how aggressive she was, she must have already been turned on by something. My own guilt of my transgression faded as I felt her lips milk my head. 

I turned off the grill, and rested a hand on her head. I knew she didn't like when I pulled her hair, she wanted to be in control. I enjoyed letting her take the reins. Her hand lifted and tugged at my balls, caressing them the way she knew drove me crazy.

"Are you the type of wife that wants to feed on my cum before dinner?" I asked huskily, knowing that it wouldn't be long before she'd get what she wanted.

"I must be," she panted between sucks, her other hand stroking my shaft, "I want your cum more than the silly steak dinner."

She went back at it, and her hand dropped from my shaft and under her skirt, fingering her own sex at the feel of my cock throbbing in her mouth. Her blue eyes watched me as I looked down at her, then my eyes lidded as I felt my peak bloom at the base of my spine.

"Fuck," I said, "here it comes baby, fuck, I'm gonna jet"

She pressed her head down fully until she felt my balls lift, then pulled back keeping my head in her mouth, her hand pulling my foreskin back, and then closed her eyes as the tip spit my cream against her tongue. It spurted and sprayed on her cheek, but the rest filled her mouth resting on her tongue. She sucked the tip, then wiped the cum from her cheek with a finger and sucked it clean. She opened her mouth to show me she took all of it, then swallowed.

I rocked back and leaned against the brick near the grill. She smiled and stood up, looking at me with her eyes still filled with lust.

"Put away the steaks, sweetheart," she said, "then join me in our room."

I nodded and watched as she left the patio, her jacket still on the ground. She plucked up a bag and took it inside with her, looking back at me.

"Take your time," she said, lifting the bag, " I have a present for you."

I smiled as she disappeared inside. I tucked my cock back inside my jeans, then picked up the steaks, and her jacket. I put the steaks in the fridge, then hung up her jacket. I was still wondering if she could tell that I'd shot cum in another woman's mouth and pussy. Surely she could taste the other woman's juices on my cock. I hadn't had time to shower. 

Her own kisses felt different. A stray taste that I couldn't place. I smiled and I felt how my face cracked a bit, remembering that I had my face covered by the girls cream only about an hour before. I shook my head, then picked up my own gift bag and headed into the bedroom. I plucked up the flowers, and the chocolate. I'd save the necklace for later.

She was reclining in the center of our bed, dressed in white neglige that was reminiscent of a bridal gown. It seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it. The bodice revealed her full breasts, her nipples hard as she lightly played with one. I was gobsmacked, she looked beautiful.

"Are those for me?" she asked nodding at my gifts, "You know I only want one thing right now?"

"Oh??" I asked, dropping the roses and chocolates to the floor.

I undressed as she moved her hand down to her pussy, pressing a finger between her full lips, then teasing the tuft of blonde hair above her cleft. I was soon naked in front of her.

"Are you the type of loyal husband that will suck another man's cum from his wife's cunt?" she asked.

The words were like a punch in the guts. I suddenly knew she had been with another man. She'd fucked another man this afternoon. I put the pieces together, and I felt like I should be angry. The I remembered my own infidelity, and with a look, I knew she could already tell. She knew the moment she's sucked my cock.

"I must be," I said, and crawled on the bed, and peeled the white lacy thong down her shapely thighs.

I dived into her cunt, her white array of lingerie now an ironic hypocrisy to our fidelity. I pressed my hands to her thighs and lapped deeply into her folds. The musk of her previous rutting permeated my senses. Her juices, her pheromones mixed with the heady scent of another man's spunk seemed to make my dick harder. I tasted the tang of his seed as she flexed her inner muscles and a pearl of his still warm cum oozed onto my tongue. 

Her head tossed back, and she gripped the top of my head. Holding it there, her hand pressing me deeper. She loved to take control of me, and I loved how it made her feel powerful. I lapped at her cunt, tasting her arousal and his spunk, swallowing it, savoring it. 

Images of her on her knees sucking a strangers cock, on her back getting fucked hard by a rough man. I reached up to cup her breasts, my eyes lifting to her chest. I saw a bruise under one cup, and my thumb pressed into it. He'd marked her. He was rough with her. She loved it.

I knew it then, that she loved being under another man's control. It fired up my own passions, and I shoved two fingers inside her cunt, then hit the spot that I knew, from many nights of practice, would force her to cum quickly. Her eyes flew open, and she arched her back, then screamed as her thighs squeezed together and she squirted into my face. Her hot spray only feeding my lust.

"Are you the type of slutty wife," I asked rising to my knees, "That gets on all fours and lets her husband take her ass, so she'll have all three holes filled in one day?"

She smiled and turned on her belly, "I must be," she said as she raised her ass up on her knees, revealing a jeweled butt plug, "because that's my gift to you, my own jeweled ass."

I groaned at the sight, and gripped the edges of the plug and twisted it slowly while pulling it free. She groaned at the feeling and her back arched, pressing her breasts into the mattress as her arms stretched to the headboard. I spat on my hand and stroked my cock lubricating the head. The plug pulled free, and I spat into the gaped hole, then pressed my crown into the tight opening.

"Oh fuccckkkk," she cried as my cock stretched her opening, "Slow, baby.. slow..."

I slowly filled her, my hands pulling her cheeks apart. I spat onto my shaft as it slowly filled her nether hole. My thumbs spreading the natural lubricant along my girth as it slowly disappeared into her ass. She groaned deep as my thighs pressed into her ass.

"Just hold it there," she said, "fuck you stretched me so good, I feel so FUCKing full."

I gripped her ass and started to draw back, and she groaned at the new feeling. We'd never done this before, she'd always refused my requests. She seemed to thrill at the feeling, and I decided to take control. I reached forward as I thrust in hard. She squawked at my sudden thrust, then ground back into me. I gripped a handful of her mane of gold and tugged her head back. 

She purred, and I hammered hard into her.

"Oh Fuck yes.. fuck me.. fuck my ass!!!" she cried as I took her ass.

It was tight, and I fucked her hard. My cock pounding for many strokes. I lasted longer after having cum three times in the past two hours. But my lust soon overcame me, and I felt my balls tighten.

"Cum for me," I said, "cum with my cock in your ass."

My words tripped a switch and her body froze then shuddered. I rammed forward and shot jets of my white cream into her bowels. I arched and bucked, wanting to fill her ass with my spunk, make her remember who's she was. Take her back, and keep her. She was mine, my wife, my lover... My slut.

As we regained our breath, and our senses returned, I plucked up the jeweled plug. I pulled out my cock, and slipped the tip back in her ass. She groaned as she felt what I was doing.

"Are you the type of slut," I asked, "that like to keep her ass filled with her husband's cum?"

"I must be," she said, "because I am his slut, his only slut. I'm yours baby. i'm your slutty valentine."

With the words, 'slutty valentine," my memories returned. The girl in the mall, was my wife. The cum I licked from her pussy was mine. We hadn't cheated, we were still faithful.

"How?" I asked, curling behind her and pulling her to my chest, nuzzling behind her ear.

"Same way you stopped smoking," she smiled and turned in my arms, and kissed my lips.

"I love you, honey," she said, "only you, forever."

"I love you too," I said, "Happy Valentine's day." 



Are You a . . .



. . . with apologies to those owned by cats or dogs who don't share my sense of humour . . . 

*

Are you a "Cat" or "Dog" person? Human beings like to categorize or pigeon hole people, things, and ideas - perhaps it makes it easier for us to keep track. Given the adoption of pets as substitute children or spouses, the phrases "cat person" and "dog person" seem to be in frequent usage. I am not talking about those cute photos showing a person next to a dog to which the person bears a strong resemblance. My reference is on a more emotional than physical level.

There are jokes about cats - that they have "staff;" that they are cool, aloof, and independent; and that they tolerate, rather than enjoy (much less need) human contact. Dogs, on the other hand, are said to be forgiving to a fault; loyal, caring and loving; and that they need to be part of a "family" or pack to be happy and healthy.

We probably all have met people we can categorize as "cat" or "dog" people, not on the basis of the pets they have, but on the characteristics they exhibit. People who are available only when they have a need you can serve; friends who take more than they give; others who seem always on the edges, observing without being drawn into human interactions: "cat people." "Dog people" call to see how you did with that big job assignment, health issue, or personal challenge; listen attentively; provide comfort; and forgive the slights and outbursts that sometimes mar even the best friendships and families.

I personally have been "owned" by a succession of dogs (mostly West Highland White Terriers, which should give you an idea of my personality), and always thought of my self as a "dog person" - not just because those were the pets I favored, but because I thought of myself (whom I now know to be a submissive) as thoughtful of others, constantly trying to make the lives of others better, and always seeking to avoid conflict and discord. What I have learned over the past month or so is that my idea about myself was wrong - I was not a "dog person;" I was not a "cat person" either. I was a "cat litter box person"!

If you do not understand what I mean by that, please allow me to explain. We all know that a cat litter box is, at best, full of sand or little pellets designed to soak up urine and absorb the nasty smells of waste products (and, since lots of cats eat lots of fishy products that stink pretty highly when they come out of the container in the first place, the possibility for noxious odors is nearly incomprehensible in scope).

At my best, my "cat litter box" personality did just that - it absorbed the nastiness around me, taking care of the messes that are inherent in personal relationships. The ability to make these bad things disappear convinced me that I was making things better for others and for myself. In fact, I was disguising problems others needed to confront and resolve themselves. I also was taking into myself a lot of nastiness that I did not need and could not handle. After all, the kitty litter doesn't process the waste it absorbs - it just clumps up until the clumps are removed and new litter is put into the container. 

By the time I found submissive service, the litter box of my life was full of, you should pardon the expression, piss and shit. My personal relationships, but for a very few loyal friends, were hurtful, demanding, and painful. I constantly told myself that I could be happy by making other people happy, without realizing that I could not give to others what I could not get for myself. Even when I realized that my motivation to help other people was to keep alive the good feeling that evoked in me, rather than to actually assist others, I had difficulty taking the next step in dealing with the emotional issues that were like hardened clumps of waste, buried at the bottom of the litter box of my life.

With the tireless help of the Dominant I now serve, the accumulated and occulting waste products clumped up and cluttering up my life - the experience and the memory of hurt, anger, and pain from childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood -- have been cleaned out of my life. As a submissive, I likely always will keep a tray of litter handy to absorb the hurts of friends and family, to cover up the disappointments and hurts that are a part of every life, and to neutralize the odors of fear, pain, and anger that come to all of us (after all, it is MY litter box, so I now know that I should use it for my own messes, as well as those of others). 

The difference now is that my entire life is not one sandy pile of waste, growing ever larger and more noxious. Yes, there are losses, pains, and disappointments to rise above and survive - but I no longer feel the need to disguise, sanitize, and bury them, letting them occupy space in my life that instead are used to store energy, happiness, and self-confidence. I expect that I will be sifting through the litter for some time to come - after all, a lot of nasty stuff has accumulated during my 50+ years of life - but the process itself is healing, and the end result is a life that smells as sweet as anyone could wish.



Are You A Cop? If So, Would You Tell?



On December 26th 2007, My best friend and I had decided to go strip club hopping.

It was my first visit back to my home town since I moved the Summer before.

We decided to skip the normal strip clubs that we'd normally go to and go to some out of the way places. We got to a little hole in the wall place a few towns over.

The place wasn't run down or anything, but it didn't really come off as a strip club to me.

The place was so cheap, that the dancers had to put quarters into a juke box to get songs to dance to rather then a DJ spinning the music.

Another thing was that a few of the girls had called off so the ones that were there had to do doubletime on stage. Instead of spending five or sex minutes dancing, they'd spend fifteen.

I thought the whole thing was funny. Most of the girls were fuckable, but they weren't model material like the dancers at some of the other places I went to were. I really wanted a lap dance, because I hadn't gotten one in so long.

I sat there with my best friend, just watching the girls dance back and forth and coming around to collect their dollars. I propositioned this nice looking black girl for a lap dance.

She told me she would give me one, but she had to wait until she had some time off stage.

Every time she came around to collect her dollars she'd say.

"Don't you go no where."

I didn't want to, but my best friend was bored and wanted to leave.

"I wanna get one lap dance before we go." 

I told him.

Him and I waited for what seemed like an hour or so, and every time the black girl came to me she'd keep saying.

"Don't you go no where."

Finally, she came over and got me. My best friend told me that he'd be out in the truck waiting for me. I followed the dancer into the couch room and she began doing the normal grinding and bumping on me and I was getting very turned on. 

She slid her G-string clad pussy against my cock and through my pants I could feel her lips sliding across it.

A few minutes later, the dancer peeked out of the curtain which blocked the couch room off from the main bar area, then she sat next to me. 

Without saying a word, she reached down and began undoing my zipper.

"Are you a cop,if so would you tell anyone?" she whispered.

She pulled my cock out and began stroking it. My cock was throbbing hard and I couldn't believe that she was doing this.

A couple of minutes later, the dancer spits into her hand and begins stroking again. I was feeling so good. Every time a song ended,she'd ask if I wanted to keep going. I must have gone through $60.00 or so. I wanted to keep going, but I was no where near close to cumming.

The dancer said something about giving a blowjob but I didn't quite make out exactly what she said.

I had tons of pre-cum oozing but I was probably a half hour away from cumming and I was running out of money.

After about four songs, I told the dancer that I was done and had to go.

She hugged and kissed me and I thanked her for the dance and I headed outside.

When I got into the truck my best friend saw something was "Wrong"

"What's up?" he asked.

"Just go." I told him.

"Why, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Just go, I'll tell you when we're on the road." I told him.

He began to drive and once we were far enough away, I felt comfortable talking about it.

"She gave me a handjob." I told him.

"What?" he asked.

"Yeah man, she gave me a fucking handjob." I told him.

"Man, that's bullshit, why didn't I get hooked up?" He asks.

My best friend was pissed and jealous that I had gotten a handjob.

To be honest, he is much better looking them I am so I guess I was just THE MAN.

My best friend and I hit up another strip club before going home, but sadly, nothing happened at that one.


This was the first time I gotten a handjob from a girl. I have bad luck with girls so that's why I was so surprised by what happened.



Are You a Great Anal Lover?



As everyone knows, the acceptance of anal sex in popular culture is exploding. I read a restaurant review last week that compared eating a certain dish to having anal sex. Imagine that being printed twenty years ago. Surveys of college women who are sexually active reveal that 24% of them have anal sex at least twice a month. Guess why. Because it feels so good. At this rate, a generation from now we'll be back to the ancient Greek standard that their pottery seems to reveal: vaginal intercourse for procreation, anal for pleasure. Guys, however, better get with the real message about anal sex and women, not the one peddled by the porn industry. Great anal sex relies totally on your appreciation of the fact that you've been invited into the most intimate spot in a woman's body and that you're expected to work in a partnership with her to create a truly pleasurable experience for BOTH of you. This isn't about you're dominating your partner, it's about your making love WITH her. To add to the cause, I've constructed the following quiz which is designed to give you a general idea of how accomplished you are as an anal lover by evaluating your own knowledge of female anatomy and your ability to apply that knowledge. Most importantly, it asks you about your commitment to being a pleasure giver, not taker. I've answered each question as honestly as I could to give you an idea of how to respond to the quiz.

#1 As painless penetration as possible of your partner's hole should be gold standard for any great anal lover. If you are starting out, how often do you lube her hole and your dick? Score yourself on a scale of never (1) to all the time(10). If you are experienced, score yourself on the basis of how often you actually use lube: all the time (1) to only when necessary (10).

Jim: Anticipation of the pleasure to come and preliminary rimming have made lube unnecessary except for spontaneous, unplanned occasions. I gave myself a 10 on this. As a newbie, I would have given myself about a 3.

#2 How often do you rim your partner? Score yourself on a scale of never (1) to whenever asked to (10).

Jim: A no-brainer for me. It seems as if I was born knowing how to rim and how much pleasure that gives a woman. Celeste would tell you that her favorite orgasm occurs when I rim her as she is stroking her clit. 10

#3 Do you know exactly where your partner's g-spot is and how to push against it when you have your penis in her ass? Score yourself on a scale of haven't got a clue (1) to absolutely (10).

Jim: Very uneven. Sometimes I'm spot on and sometimes I can't find it at all. Go figure. 6

#4 As your partner's orgasm approaches, whose fingers are stroking her clit? Score yourself on a scale of always mine (1) to whoever's she wants (10).

Jim: I never touch Celeste's clit. She always want to control the pace and intensity of her orgasm and not have these things dictated to her by even a devoted lover. If you think about it, her desire makes perfect sense. Occasionally, I do more her hand towards her clit when I feel the first signs of an approaching orgasm. 10 

#5 There is a powerful contraction of your partner's sphincters on the shaft of your penis that occurs as an anal sex orgasm begins. It's intensity is one of the best tests of how you have performed in stimulating her body. What is the average sensation you experience? Score yourself on a scale of don't feel a thing or don't notice a thing (1) to I'm still tender the next day (10), 

Jim: It's all over the scale, so I gave myself a 6.

#6 Although an orgasm itself lasts only a few seconds, the contractions that follow can last much longer, depending on the power of the orgasm itself. On a scale of a few seconds (1) to more than two minutes (10), what is the average length of time your partner experiences contractions after her orgasm?

Jim: This is a difficult question to answer. One of the few real drawbacks to anal sex is that the physical experience can be too intense. This leaves Celeste with her body shaking, gasping for air, and in a state of agitation that makes an answer impossible. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. Most of the time, Celeste's contractions last more than a minute. I gave myself an 8.

#7 On a scale of never (1) to always (10), how often does your partner ejaculate and/or leave a wet spot in the bed after anal sex?

Jim: Celeste ejaculates about half the time, so I gave myself a 5.

#8 On a scale of doesn't exist (1) to overwhelming (10) how intense is your partner's expressed desire that you have an orgasm during anal sex, either in her ass, mouth, or through masturbation? If anyone asks why vagina is not on this list, that person and his partner are IDIOTS, asking for all sorts of very serious health problems.

Jim: This is frequently a frustration for Celeste, who wants to feel those warm squirts in her ass after her orgasm(s), even if she is not fully "with it.". I often get so caught up in giving pleasure that I don't cum at all. In my defense, if I tried to match Celeste orgasm for orgasm, I'd have been carted off to the rubber room years ago. 4 

#9 Assuming that you have allowed time for this and your partner wants to, how often does she"float" into the trance-like state or fall asleep after anal sex? Score yourself on a scale of never (1) to always (10)

Jim: Not always, but most of the time. 8

#10 How often does your partner initiate an either a verbal or non-verbal invitation to anal sex? Score yourself on a scale of never (1) to several times a week (10).

Jim: Happens all the time. 10

Your results. Great anal sex is very complex and multifaceted. I'd say that any score over 60 was good, over 80 very good, and over 90 suspect. Being as honest as I could be, I came up with a score of 77 for myself--pretty good, but Celeste and I have been practicing for a long time. What is most useful, it to have your partner take the quiz not knowing what your results were and then compare what you think of yourself as an anal lover and what she thinks of you.. When Celeste "graded" me, her was 79 and there were no big differences by category. She, incidentally, is thinking about preparing a similar quiz for women who think of themselves, or want to think of themselves, as great anal pleasure-givers to men. It's interesting to me to realize that if I had taken this quiz when I was twenty-five, I think I would have scored between 35 and 40.

Jim



Are You a Virgin?



Helen was the eighteen year old daughter of my next door neighbour. Over the winter and spring she had blossomed and she was gorgeous, black hair, hazel eyes and a bosom that seemed to have doubled in size overnight.

She seemed to have a complete wolf pack trailing after her, but I hadn't noticed her favouring any specific wolf as of yet, but that would come. Hormones will out, and I'm quite sure she had her fair share. For the time being, however, she was getting a kick of leading the pack around, confident in her ability to jerk on their leashes.

I noticed that on the hotter days she was wearing skimpy bikinis and working on her tan, and it seemed to me that if those bikinis became any skimpier they'd vanish entirely.

I was working in the garden on a Saturday afternoon on one of those nice hot days when I heard a yelp from next door. Looking over the fence I saw that Helen had tripped somehow, and was now tangled in the deckchair.

Somehow she'd managed to get her arm pinched in it and she couldn't get loose because every time she tried to get up the chair clamped down hard on her arm, pinching it.

I asked if she wanted a hand, and then went around to lend her that hand. It was a simple rescue. All I needed to do was pick her up and the tangled chair let go her arm. No big deal, but she had got a nasty scratch on her back. 

I suggested that it would be wise for her to put some antiseptic on it, and she pointed out that her parents were out for the afternoon and she couldn't reach it. Would I be so kind as to oblige.

Would I rub my lecherous hands over a nubile young body? I believe I would.

We went into her kitchen and she grabbed the antiseptic and I smoothed it over the scratch. Not deep enough for a bandaid I told her.

Helen thanked me and offered me coffee since I was here. I said thanks and sat and she busied herself making it. After Helen had run around the kitchen for a few moments I spoke up.

"Helen," I said, "you're a very attractive young woman and that bikini is a terrible distraction to me. Do you think you could do something about it?"

She giggled, and nodded. "OK," she said. "I'll just grab my beach robe."

Before she could leave to grab it I interrupted.

"I was thinking more in the way of taking the damn thing off. It spoils my view."

"Oh, yes," she said. "I'll just do that little thing. You'd probably faint from shock and run."

"Try me," I offered, and she giggled. Hitching her hands in the sides of the bikini bottom, she pulled them down a little further, pretending that she was going to remove it, but stopping just before the edge of her slit appeared. Then she backed off with a laugh.

"Close," I said, "but no jackpot. Come here a moment."

She stepped over to where I was sitting, and I reached up and grasped her bathers at the waist. Then I started peeling them down. She waited until the last possible moment to preserve her modesty and then grabbed at the bathers while taking a step backwards.

Too slow, because as soon as I saw her arms twitch I suddenly pulled then bathers down a lot faster. By the time her hands reached her waist, the bathers were at her knees and descending.

Helen frantically crossed her hand in front of herself, trying to hide behind them. I let go the bathers and took hold of her wrists, and moved her arms together and up slightly, so they wouldn't impede my view.

I took a long admiring look, and she could see that I was appreciating the view as her reproval wasn't really harsh and I could hear the edge of excitement in her voice.

Keeping hold of her wrists with one hand, I reached out with the other and traced the line of her leg from the knee, moving up. Along the inside of her leg, where the flesh was very sensitive. My hand trailed along her inner thigh then gently brushed her pussy.

"You know," I said, "you have exquisite lines here. Your legs are shapely and your pussy is a harmonic wave, just begging to be stroked. Look at the way these curves flow." 

With the comment, I was letting my fingers flow along her sensitive curves, and I could feel her labia swelling slightly at my touch.

I let her go, withdrawing my hands, leaving her standing there with her bathers around her ankles, unsure what she should be doing.

"Step out of them," I said quietly, indicating her ankles, and she did so, almost in a dream.

"Turn around," I continued, and again she obeyed, slowly turning until she was facing away from me. I reached out and ran my fingers lightly up the back of her leg, again moving along the inner thigh and trailing upward, brushing her pussy again as I moved. This time I didn't stop but continued up to her top and calmly undid the clip, letting the top swing free.

Placing one hand on her hip, I tugged gently, and Helen turned back to face me, her face scarlet. I reached up and lifted her top away from her breasts, but I was watching her, not her breasts. She was looking back at me, and knew what I was asking. She reached up and lifted the bra off, standing nude before me.

My eyes dropped to her breasts, large and shapely with two white triangles in the centre of them, tan lines that emphasised the natural white of her breasts and the large pink nipples in the centre of each triangle. 

I reached up and gently rubbed my palm across her nipples, refraining from clutching and squeezing her breasts.

"Are you a virgin?" I asked her. Helen flushed, not sure if she should answer that question or not, and I waved it away. "No matter," I continued. "You won't be one after I've finished. As much as I hate to leave, I have things that I must get done. Come around tomorrow morning and we'll pick up from here."

"You expect me to come to your place tomorrow so you can seduce me?" Helen demanded, sounding as if she thought I was mad, or that I thought she was. "I'm not doing that. I can't even believe that I let you take my bikini off."

I stood with a smile. "That was fun. You've got a gorgeous body and I can't wait to take advantage of you." I dropped a quick kiss on her lips and left.

My estimation was that I had a sixty percent chance that Helen would come around the next day. Reluctantly, but she was curious. I was probably the first male to ever see her naked as a woman, and I had showed an adult appreciation of her figure without blatantly grabbing. The whole thing had excited her and I thought she'd be back for more.

I kept one eye out the window next morning, and about ten thirty I saw George and Carole drive away. Fifteen minutes later Helen knocked lightly on my door, probably hoping I wouldn't hear. I opened the door, and let her in.

She started apologising almost as soon as she was inside. "I'm sorry, Mr. Williams, but I only came over top tell you that I haven't changed my mind. I'm not sure why I let you look at me yesterday..." She faltered and stopped. "What are you doing," she asked, sounding somewhat nervous.

What I had been doing was undoing the button and zip on her shorts. Her very short shorts. Now what I was doing was easing them over her bottom and down her legs.

"I'm taking of your shorts," I told her, crouching slightly to run them down to her ankles. A tap on the ankle and she automatically lifted her foot to let me take them off.

"But," Helen protested, "I said no. I'm not going to let you do what you said."

"Make love to you, you mean," I asked politely. "Of course you are. It's the only reason you came over. Lift your arms," I added, and very efficiently peeled her t-shirt of when she obliged.

Helen seemed somewhat startled to find she was now only dressed in her panties and bra. A matching set I noticed. Lacy, low cut and designed to be shown to the male of the species. 

"No, seriously," Helen protested. "I mean it. Give me back my things."

"I know you mean it, Helen," I told her, "and I can appreciate that. However, I told you to come over and we'd pick up from where we off. There's no compulsion for you to go any further than that, but you can have a little more fun without committing yourself. To show I can keep my hands off you, I'll even stand back and let you take of your bra and panties."

"But I didn't mean to take anything off," Helen almost wailed. "Why do I have to finish getting undressed?"

"Because you're lovely to look at and I want to see you again," I said, as though it were only reasonable. "Slide your panties down first."

Helen looked helplessly at me for a moment and then hooked her thumbs into her panties and took them slowly down. Then she automatically reached around and undid her bra, leaning forward slightly to let it slip off her arms.

Scarlet of face, she looked at the floor. "OK, I've done what you wanted," she said in a quiet voice. "Can I go now?"

I repeated my little trick from the day before. My fingers touched lightly at her knee and then trailed up her inner thigh, brushing across her mound. Helen gasped but didn't try to move away from my touch, standing there feeling my hand resting lightly on her pussy.

My other hand reached out and gently cupped one of those lovely globes she possessed, the thumb reaching up to roll her nipple around. I could feel her breast swelling and see the nipple tightening under my touch. I could also hear Helen starting to breathe a little harder.

"Repeating my question from yesterday, are you a virgin?" I asked. "And don't tell me no because I'm prepared to swear blind that you are."

Helen nodded, "And I'm going to stay that way for a while yet," she told me defiantly.

I laughed. "Indeed you are, until I lie you down and take you," I told her, "which won't take place for several minutes yet."

Helen flushed at that. "It's not going to take place at all," she told me.

I sighed. "Sorry, Helen, but it is. It's the reason you came over here this morning and it would be wrong to let you go back untouched after you worked up the courage to come in the first place."

"That's not what I came for," Helen protested, "and even if I did I'd be allowed to change my mind. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving."

"No." A short simple answer seemed best at this point.

Helen glared at me. "What do you mean, no?"

"No, I won't excuse you and no, you're not leaving," I told her smiling. "Come on, we'll go through to the bedroom. Even if you chicken out at the last moment, you'll get a taste of what I believe they call heavy petting which will help you in the future."

I placed a hand on her back and guided her towards the bedroom. She grumbled and complained every step of the way, but didn't actually resist.

Once in the bedroom I steered her onto the bed, then stripped, watched by nervous but curious eyes. I saw her swallow when she realised just how ready I was for her, and her eyes kept returning to look at me. 

"Relax, Helen," I said, keeping my voice soft and soothing. "You're starting to worry that I might force you, aren't you?"

At her reluctant nod, I smiled at her. "Don't panic," I said, "But I'm going to show you a little trick."

Before Helen realised what I was doing I had grabbed her ankles and lifted them up and to either side of her. I was between her thighs with my erection pressing lightly against her pussy. Despite my telling her not to panic, I could see she was about to, so I moved away from her and let her legs drop back onto the bed.

"You see?" I said. "If I had wanted to, I could have. Would you have been able to stop me entering your pussy right then if I'd wanted to?"

Helen shook her head, still nervous and probably wondering if she should scream and bolt. 

"Just think of it. Think of what you'd be feeling now if my cock was sliding into you pussy and filling you up." I told her. "Would you have felt helpless beneath me?"

At her cautious nod, I added. 

"Are you wondering what it would have been like to feel my cock making its way into you? Knowing that it was your master and it could pleasure you at its will?"

Her faced was blushing again, but I could see she was wondering what would it have been like to have my erection pushing its way into her, ignoring her wishes. I hadn't really touched her yet and she was getting excited, wondering what lay ahead.

Now I lay down next to her. Taking my hand I eased it across until it was lying on my erection. She was rather tentative, but then her hand closed upon me and she help me firmly. 

"Have you ever touched one of these before?" I asked, and saw from the hesitation before she shook her head that she was lying. I reached up and tapped her nose.

"This will grow if you tell me any fibs, Pinocchio," I told her, and her face went scarlet. It was unusual for a dark haired girl to blush so easily, but she managed it.

"So how much experience with them have you had?" I teased her.

"Every boy I date seems to want to whip it out so that I can play with it," she grumbled. "I usually say no, but I have given a couple of hand jobs."

"I'm willing to have you play with mine," I offered humbly, "because I definitely intend to play with yours."

She giggled at that, settling down into a routine that was at least partly familiar. Play with the boys cock while he plays with her breasts and tries to go lower. She had experience at fending off the lower probes.

One thing Helen had overlooked was that it was one thing to fend off a probing hand when you're fully dressed. It was another thing entirely when your pussy was bare and lying right there in front of him.

Helen's legs were still fairly widely spread, courtesy of my earlier little scare tactic. This meant that I was able to reach out and firmly cup her pussy before she even realised it was under assault. The hand that was holding me gave me a painful squeeze when my hand first touched her, and then relaxed back into the gentle exploration it was doing.

I started my own exploration, rubbing and kneading, stroking and easing her lips apart. Then I switched to her breasts for a while, and could feel Helen relaxing as the more familiar touches started. Assuming that at least one boy would have managed to nibble on her boobs, I bent over and did the same. Helen gasped when I started sucking gently on her breasts, and her delight at the familiar made her temporarily overlook the fact that my hand had gone back downstairs.

Soon my busy little fingers were dipping between her lips, stroking and probing. Wandering up to the start of her vaginal passage I quickly encountered her hymen. I pressed lightly against it, earning her sudden attention. 

"That's my cherry you're pressing against, isn't it?" she said nervously.

"It is," I said cheerfully. "Would you like me to pop it with a bit of finger pressure? It'll make it easier when you eventually yield to a man's erection." Mine, and very shortly the way it currently felt.

"Wouldn't that spoil it for the man who takes me," she asked, not sure what to do.

"Not really. All it tells him is that no cock has passed this way before, and you can do that verbally."

Helen blushed again, but decided no. She'd wait until a cock came along. It would seem more natural, she thought.

I could feel that Helen was nice and moist. Her excitement was building and I was about to help that along a bit more. My hand moved around her pussy, the fingers inside her slit trailing along. Soon I was touching her clitoris, and my finger started to flick out a little tune upon it.

Helen almost went through the roof. She'd never let a male get this far before and was totally unprepared for the sensitivity of her clitoris. She literally screamed at the suddenness of the sensations, gasping in shock afterwards.

She started to ask me what I'd done when I showed her, agitating her clitoris again and getting another shocked scream.

"What are you doing," she wailed at me.

"Just preparing you for what's coming," I said blandly, letting her see I was laughing at her.

She was breathing hard now, her whole body throbbing and writhing slightly, knowing she wanted something but not knowing enough to be able to say what.

"What do you mean? What's coming?" she asked, anticipation, longing and a touch of fear intermingling in her voice.

"I am," I said. "I'm about to take you now. Do you want me to just spread your legs and take you while you lie there, or do you want me to lift your legs high so that you're helpless beneath me?"

She faltered at that. "I thought you wouldn't do it if I said no," she whispered. 

"I wouldn't," I said, "but you're not going to say no. You're going to say make me helpless or take me now."

She was looking at me, wondering if she could say no and if she did would I listen. While she was trying to think my hands were continuing to play with her pussy, but the action had changed. Now I was moving her lips further apart, stretching them to allow me room. Before she could say aye, nay or maybe, my cock was easing past her lips and pressing home.

Helen gave a squeal as she realised that she'd left her final decision too late and was now well on the way to being taken. She gave another squeal as she felt my cock now butting against her hymen, finding it a lot larger than my finger. 

She wriggled against me, trying to get comfortable as I increased the pressure, then she gave another scream as her hymen yielded and my cock moved triumphantly into her.

Helen lay under as I paused, letting her get used to my cock inside her. She was breathing hard and twisting slightly, finding the position that she felt most comfortable with.

Gasping slightly, she looked up at. "You tricked me," she complained.

"Nonsense," I told her. "I said right from the start I was going to take you. You may have tricked yourself, but that's your own fault."

She glared at me, and then she laughed. "OK. I suppose I knew when I came over that it would end up like this, but I came anyway. I was mainly worried that you might just rape me."

"I'll do that another time," I assured her, ignoring her indignant snort. "Do you know what happens now?"

She nodded. "I'm not totally ignorant. You move inside me until you come."

I nodded. "Yes, you are totally ignorant. I will move inside you, yes, but you will also move. You won't lie there like a log, but when I do this," I gave a gentle push, "you should use your hips to meet me, and when I do this," I slowly started to withdraw, "you can let me go or you can hang on and get a better friction inside you."

I continued to withdraw until I was almost out of her, and then I drove rapidly back down. Helen squealed, giving a frantic little jerk of her hips as I crashed into her. She swore at me as I laughed at her, protesting she hadn't been ready.

Then I was slowly withdrawing again, paused and thrust, and this time Helen laughed triumphantly, pushing up to meet me.

Soon we were moving like old hands, anticipating and matching our movements. All my playing with her, especially the teasing of her clitoris, meant that Helen had a head start when it came to reaching an orgasm. Very soon she was gasping and giving little screams as her climax built around her, and then she was writhing and giving a louder scream as her first orgasm hit her.

Happy that her immediate need had been attended to, I started concentrating on my own needs, slowly increasing the speed of my thrusting, building up to a nice orgasm of my own. I wasn't too surprised to note that Helen was coming quite quickly to a second climax. Women are lucky that way.

Very shortly I started those short sharp strokes that let me climax, spilling my seed. The warm liquid splashing forcefully within her was all that Helen needed to succumb to her second climax, which she did, just as noisily as her first.

We both settled back onto the bed, recuperating, when Helen suddenly said, "Shouldn't you have used a condom?"

I sat up. "Hell. I have some right there on the bedside table, but forgot them. All I could think about was you."




Are You a Virgin?



Helen laughed at my shock. "Then it's a good thing I've been on the pill for a while, isn't it?"

She did that deliberately to scare me, the wretch. 

-- -

As an aside, you're probably wondering about that rape I promised her.

What happened was this -- The next evening Helen came waltzing up my path in the evening and barged into my lounge room. Before she realised what I was doing I had grabbed her, bent her over an armchair, and pulled her panties down. I was half way in her when she groaned and reminded me it was Monday night and her parents were close behind her.

I damn near caught myself in my zipper I was tidying up so fast, and I had a painful erection for the rest of the night, not helped by that little minx not putting her panties back on but stuffing then under a cushion.



Are You an Asker or a Giver?



Most of us are raised in one of two cultures in this world. One side sees no dilemma in asking for something they desire. They do not feel they are intruding, for all you need do is to say no to the query. The other factor tends not to ask for things unless they feel the answer would be yes. This side would prefer to put out feelers to find out what the other side thinks about a request and in fact is hoping for an offer before the request is made. Even after an offer is made, the person tries to ascertain as to the sincerity of said offer before it is accepted.

Although there is no right or wrong side to these cultures, when the two are brought together it usually makes for unpleasantness for the giver. While the asker fails to see the harm in asking, the giver feels it's rude to deny a request. This results in the giver giving up things or favors he doesn't really want to just to keep decorum. Many times the asker has no idea he is overstepping the bounds of courtesy thus insulting the giver even further. Often the asker fails to understand the subtle hints and feelers the giver is sending and thus neglects to offer said favor. Their standard line when approached about this is, 'all he had to do was ask' something the giver is loath to do.

As I look at these two cultures, it is not hard for me to see why my first marriage failed, as she definitely was an asker and I am a staunch giver. To exacerbate the problem I was head over heels in love with her and all I wanted was to give her the world. As for her, she always felt I could always say no to something I didn't want to do and so she thought everything was aces. As I stewed in the soup of resentment, she enjoyed a soufflé of blasé that I took for uncaring. Even in the divorce settlement, I gave up things just because I felt uncomfortable saying no to her. 

There are many countries that fit into these styles of people, for example, Briton and America run into trouble doing business in Japan. Japan is what is considered a giver country and they are often outraged by our brashness in outright asking for things. Yet we consider the Russians rude because they are an asker nation. There are many who feel that much of the prejudice against Jews is not because of who they are but that so many feel no compunction in asking for something they desire. Of course, you need to realize I'm speaking generalities here, as there is no way to pigeonhole a country or a race of people into just one culture.

As an employee who is of the giver type, that boss whom you consider an uncaring SOB, might be only an asker who thinks you will just say no if you can't stay late to finish a project. An asker won't think it rude to ask to stay in your guest room but you the giver resent the agony of having to say no.

There are many self-help groups that claim they can teach a giver how to say no. I'm sure many people will think this is the right approach to solving this dilemma but I'm not so sure that I agree with them. I am comfortable with my lot in life as a giver and I can't agree that if I became an asker that my life would be better. Maybe once brain washed into being an asker instead of a giver I would stop worrying about the impositions I would now be putting people through just to satisfy my own agenda. I mean after all they could always say no couldn't they. Would the world be a better place with no more givers, only askers? Is it just for the sake of manners that I don't like to put people out on a limb? We know the standards of etiquette change; I've heard that it was once polite to belch at the table in order to show the host how the meal was enjoyed. No, I'm sorry, that's just not how I'm built, and as much as I hate being imposed upon, to me it is even worse to impose on others. 

To me it will now be a better world just to understand the workings of an asker. Knowledge is power and now that you know that an asker doesn't mind being turned down maybe it will be easier to do so. As for myself, I prefer to plod along as a giver and if I extend myself too far so be it but my conscience will remain clear.



Are You Asleep, Georgie?



By request this is the sequel to 'Granma', maybe not the sequel that was envisioned but a sequel non-the-less

Granma fell and broke her hip that summer which brought her weekly visits to our home and sharing my bedroom to a grinding halt. I was shocked, not at the accident, but at the realisation that Granma was that frail. She wasn't one of those wizened, wrinkly women who would snap in two in a strong wind, she was Granma, indestructible.

That was also the summer when I caught my first glimpse of the shadow of my own mortality.

But nothing serious came of it, Granma just needed rest and keeping off of her feet, which was no easy thing for Granma to bear. She was quite a vigorous woman for her age, she cycled, she swam and oh how she loved to dance. On more than one occasion when she stayed over in the spare bed in my bedroom ("he hasn't got anything I haven't seen before" she'd told my mother and father) and not long after we'd established our little game of feigning sleep whilst the other undressed, she had sometimes turned on the radio with the volume low so only we could hear and she'd dance a slow dance as she got naked before my eyes.

The only time I'd tried dancing in return, we'd both ended in a fit of giggles which drew the attention of my dad (Granma's grandson) and had me jumping under the bed clothes to hide my nakedness and raging boner. Having asked "What the devil is going on?" Granma found the wit to reply "I was just telling Georgie about the time I caught you with your girlfriend on Valentine's day." Dad went a sort of crimson colour and left the room precipitately.

That night Granma astonished me with the tale of how she'd 'accidentally' walked in on her grandson (my dad) in the throes of passion with his 'Valentine date'. She must have taken about twenty minutes to tell me that story, all the time looking into my eyes with the occasional glance at where my hand was and what it was doing.

Keeping her voice low so as not to arouse my parents she had the opposite effect on me as she related that Valentine's night.

My Nana (dads mum) had given birth on her eighteenth birthday in a psychiatric hospital (where she'd been sent for her apparent behavioral problems: being unmarried and pregnant) and rather than see the child declared foundling Granma had taken him home and raised him as her own.

Nana eventually proved her worth to society and was given release from the hospital about ten years later. She found work in a mill, first as a treadle greaser then a shuttle runner moving on to her own machine within eighteen months. From there she became supervisor and eventually was given the chance to work in the relative quiet of the foreman's office due to the fact of her obvious intelligence and extremely neat handwriting.

Years later Nana transferred to a mill close by her old home town but never once visited due to the fact that she had entirely forgotten her life before the hospital.

And so it happened that Dad became an apprentice engineer at that self and same mill and found himself attracted to the much older secretary that worked in the office.

Acquaintance became friendship, which eventually blossomed into lust. The secretary seemed to be very reticent about any kind of relationship, not only because of their obvious age difference, but also because of something else which she couldn't quite put her finger on. Couldn't pin down. Couldn't put a name to, but after weeks became months and then a year she succumbed to his enthusiasm, his infectious smile and his familiar good looks.

When my dad's friend eventually became his lover they went at it like knives. They fucked in the toilets, they fucked in the office, they fucked in the car park and in the alley behind the mill, they fucked in the warehouse on large bails of un-dyed shoddy and they fucked in the machine shop where a metal rule left his lover inch-marked from backside to the inside of her knee. They fucked inside and outside in the rain and in the sun, they fucked at work, they fucked at her lodgings, they fucked the landlady and her daughter. They fucked like animals, they fucked like teens, they fucked like lovers. They fucked like there was no fucking tomorrow.

By this point, my fist was beating a rhythm with Granma's words as I sat hunched over on the edge of my bed, listening intensely to every morsel of filth that she issued from her age creased lips, her eyes shining as she orchestrated my actions with her words.

"Georgie, do you want to ride pillion?" Granma asked.

I was puzzled. I'd never heard this before. Was it a euphemism for shagging? I'd really enjoyed our nightly excursions in mutual masturbation and was happy that Granma was happy. But there's a big difference between wanking and fucking, not just three letters and I wasn't sure if I wanted to fuck my own Granma. My great grandmother in fact.

"What's that?" I said playing for time, and for answer she put the palms of her hands at the side of each breast and brought them together to form a soft, pliant mound on her chest and then began slapping her tits together.

"Tit wank." She whispered. "Come here."

I was still very nervous about this, especially since dad had walked in and nearly caught me frolicking naked in front of his mother's mother. I looked at the door, then back at Granma and shook my head with a worried frown creasing my brow. 

"OK." She soothed, "it's alright. Your dad daren't walk in again, but it's ok. Would you like me to finish the story?"

I nodded and gulped "Please."

She grinned and flashed her eyes as she laid down her condition. "Only if you promise that I can hold it when you cum."

This wasn't a problem and I nodded again, smiling.

"We'll move onto the good stuff another day." She said, half question and half statement.

I took a deep breath and conceded, then Granma, now with the covers thrown back on her bed, rolled onto her side to face me. Her breasts with their now poky nipples layered across her chest, draped the side of the mattress as she raised her right knee to give her hand access to the silky white hair which covered her mound and curled around her fingers.

Noticing that my own fingers had returned to grasp my erection and were slowly stroking as I gazed at her body Granma pulled her hand from her crotch and pinched the elongated nipple of her breast pulling her tit upwards past her shoulder and then let it slap back down against the other again and again she asked "Are you sure you don't want some titty wank?"

I declined her offer again with a smile and with mock disappointment she made a moue and then continued her story whilst continuing her own pleasure between angled thighs.

My dad and his lover. They'd fucked all over town, they'd fucked quite a number of the people of the town: Two of dad's ex-girlfriends, an usherette and the projectionist at the local cinema, the landlord, his wife, a barmaid and the cellarman at the Golden Lion pub, two barmaids at the King's Arms, the Mayor and his lady wife, the tingulary man and a bookie's runner when they couldn't afford a bet on the Grand National. (30/1 outsider which romped home by four lengths).

My dad fucked his lover in the cunt, he fucked her mouth and her tits and he fucked her arse. He fucked her with his fingers, he fucked her with his tongue and his cock. He fucked her with a peppermill and a rolled up copy of the Radio Times. She fucked him ragged and she fucked him raw. 

And all this within a twelve-month.

The first time that Granma met her grandson's lover was eleven months after their passion had kindled and immediately raged into conflagration. One of Granma's many part-time jobs was barmaid at The Saracen's Head (I suppose that's how she gained all the lurid details of her own kin's antics) and on this particular February afternoon she had returned home to find four letters on the doormat. Two each for her and her grandson and all four (she surmised from the stiff contents) Valentine's cards.

Granma opened the mail addressed to her and found that one card was sweet and mysterious, all hearts and flowers and puppy dogs and kittens and "Will you be my Valentine?". The other made her blush and flush from cheekbone to nipples. It appeared to be home-made, at least she didn't imagine that one would be able to buy similar in any shops. The picture on the front was of a penis of spectacular size tied with a pink ribbon at the base, the verse inside was handwritten and read;

Love is rare, don't break my heart Be my valentine, we'll never part No melodrama, comedy or farce I'd love to fuck you up the arse.

Being a barmaid, Granma had heard any amount of ribaldry in the saloon bar, the come ons, the sweet talk usually all directed at her cleavage rather than her face and, to be honest, she quite enjoyed the banter and gave as good as she got. "You'd drown in there love.", "They'd have to call out the mine rescue for you.", "Now what use would I have for a dick attached to a dick?" But the verse in the card had struck a chord within her secret heart and she found herself standing in the hallway of her home with a heaving bosom and dampening knickers gazing in hidden hope? at that lewd picture.

In the kitchen, where she placed her grandson's letters under the slim crystal vase in the centre of the oil cloth covered table, she became a little peckish and deciding it was too soon to make the tea before he came home, she picked up one of the carrots she was going to chop up and put into a stew and began to nibble at the end as she made her way once more into the hall.

Quite before she had realised, she found herself taking the stairs on unsteady feet and knees turned gloppy holding the very daring card in one hand and the means to scratch a certain itch in the other.

"I hadn't planned to go fuck myself with a carrot George," she told me "it just happened. One of those things."

Granma walked into the bathroom and turned on the hot tap in preparation for her afternoon soak before she went to her next part time work as a cleaner at the town hall.

Passing my dad's bedroom on the way, Granma walked across the landing at the top of the stairs to her own room where she laid the card on the bed and carefully placed the carrot, now wet with spit and marked by her teeth, alongside.

Her unconscious excitement had her in a daze as she absent mindedly removed her clothes. She unbuttoned her low cut blouse at the front and the cuffs and as she laid it on the bed she reached across to take a bite from her snack, all the while keeping her eyes on the valentine's card, and this was the point at which she realised her hunger was playing tricks. Or rather her hunger had shifted. 

Instead of biting down on the vegetable Granma merely laid it along her tongue and closed her lips around it then pulled it slowly until it left her mouth as she licked the very end with the tip of her tongue and a small silvered string of saliva would drip to be caught in the confines of her caught up cleavage, with her mind and her eyes filled with the picture that lay on the bedspread. After she'd unbuttoned and slid out of her skirt, again she lifted up the carrot to savour its taste and texture but always with the Valentine's picture foremost in her mind's eye.

For each item of clothing, for each snap of unhooked suspender, she returned her oral attention to the carrot, making it glisten and then leave its cool-warm trail to nestle between her breasts.

So lost was Granma in her daydream that she didn't hear the hushed urgent voices beyond the partition wall, not until she had unhooked her push-up bra and released her breasts to fall slightly down and apart and let the reservoir of pooled saliva trickle down between them, over the slight plumpness of her belly and into the very fine trail of hair that began an inch or so below her navel and descended then spread below.

Granma's reverie was momentarily suspended but pulled her back in when the sound didn't quite register on her conscious, it merely made her hands pause as she pressed her palms to the outside of her bosoms and closed them together to slide each across the other in a slick mixture of sweat and spit. Then, as she leant forward to take up her prospective pseudo-cock another, louder sound paralysed her forward motion. A long low moan reached her ears from the bedroom next door and then, just as suddenly, she remembered the bath water and the still running tap.

Without a second thought she ran on unshod toes, breasts swinging and belly glistening, across the landing and pushed open the bathroom door, where she rushed inside to quickly turn off the tap still filling her bath.

"You're next." She told the bath. "But I have something else to do first." And she gave the still rippling water a wicked wink and with that, a promise of her body to hold. She had entirely forgotten about what it was that had broken the spell of the dick pictured on the Valentine card and the unaccountable lure of the root vegetable which still lay waiting upon her counterpane. So, thinking herself still alone in the house she sauntered back along the landing to her bedroom door, mostly naked and still quite slick.

Approaching the door Granma began to feel excitement at what she was about to experience, as a fluttery feel in her tummy, working upwards through her now taught nerves, shortening her breath and tingling her nipples, which made them tighten and tingle in turn.

"It wasn't that I'd been sex starved Georgie," she told me as I sat with my mind spellbound by her words and my cock fingerbound in my fist "it was just seriously naughty. Ladies didn't do that then, or at least they didn't talk about it. It just wasn't the done thing for a Grandmother to go round fucking herself with a carrot."

When she reached the door jamb at the entrance to her bedroom Granma moved close to the woodchip covered wall and leaned across to peer shyly into the room, as though daring herself to enter and continue with this outrageous thing. The covering on the wall was quite rough and grated shockingly and sensually across her erect nipples, which made her gasp with surprise and delight, so much so that she flattened her large bosom against it and deliberately dragged her tits across the pattern, thrilling at the texture and wickedness of her action.

She stood with what she thought was a coquettish stance at the side of the bed, one hip cocked with a hand resting on it, fingers splayed and following the contours of her waist. Her eyes flickered between the picture of the phallus and the ersatz phallus that lay alongside. Then she made a conscious decision to bring the two to a closer resemblance and took a pink ribbon from her dresser draw and tied it neatly in a bow around the think end of the carrot.

"The colours clashed a bit." Granma informed me " The orange carrot with a pink bow, but now it was my own personal cock."

Granma held the vegetable with her slim, painted fingers circling just below the ribbon and ran the length of it along her tongue and down her throat then pulled it back slowly disgorging saliva to run down her chin, throat, breasts, belly and into the waistband of her work knickers; silk and slick and greasy to the touch.

The tip of her orange cock followed, lingering often. First in the valley and then in circles around each proud nipple, then down again over the wet across her belly sending shiver signals along her nerves and then slowly, so slowly, pressing inwards against the flesh to get beneath the silk and then agonisingly, tenderly, snagging a hair or two in its descent she played the vegetable penis across and around her mons.

After a short while, with the tension of the situation and the muscular effort of standing with her knees slightly apart and subtly bent in order to allow that carrot cock increasing access to her centre of pleasure Granma fell to her knees on the worn green carpet of the bedroom.

Panting, she looked around the room, from the bed to the window, from the wardrobe to the dressing table. "That looks manageable" she thought to herself and crawled across the room on all fours towards the dresser. She carefully placed her carrot cock on the dresser and placing her palms on the edge of the table she hauled herself upwards and stood with quivering legs catching a glimpse of her now soaked knickers before she pulled them down and stepped out of them.

Then she opened the first draw of the dressing table, the knicker draw, and wedged the spit drenched carrot in the corner and gently but firmly closed the draw to hold it in place. Granma took position at the corner of the dressing table, lifted her right foot and with no little difficulty placed it on the dresser top, with the carrot cock now mere inches from her slick, greased pussy.

Only now she noticed that the picture on the Valentine card, which still lay on the bed was a might too far away and so with a sigh and the thump of her foot falling to the floor she crossed to the bed to retrieve it. In short order she was once again in a position to avail herself of her vegetable phallus and craning forward to see the reflection through the dresser mirror she gingerly lowered her hips and watched as the orange, pink ribboned cock made entrance to her pussy lips.

A soft, low keening escaped Granma's mouth and this time she definitely heard an accompanying moan from beyond the bedroom wall, but by this time she was too far gone in her delirium and the carrot cock too far ensconced for it to deter her from the imminent pleasure and release she felt building in her. Using two fingers of her left Granma sought out her clitoris between her now swollen lips amongst the soft silken hair and with her right hand, wedged between her right thigh and her chest she dug her nails into the soft yielding flesh of her right breast and began strumming with manic speed across her clit with the left, whilst slowly and deliberately driving her cunt lips around her carrot cock.

The voice beyond the bedroom wall became more insistent and louder, barely keeping time with Granma's exertions until both the voice and her action fell into rhythm and drove Granma over the edge of her want and she orgasmed, shatteringly and completely and fell forward onto the dresser, hips still quivering as she fucked herself to a waning halt.

Eventually Granma withdrew herself from dresser and the wedged carrot with an audible gasp to stand weak kneed before her reflection in the mirror before she bent forward and kissed the picture of the be-ribboned cock and then slid her lips around the carrot and deliberately bit off an inch or so, which she chewed reflectively.

Granma left the bedroom and walked dreamily across the landing for her assignation with the hot bath that she hoped was still steaming.

As she pushed open the door to the bathroom Granma was startled by a figure leaning across the sink, looking in to the mirror which hung there. At first she thought it was Dad and turned to leave in order to hide her reddening face but then she took in the broad hips, long hair and soft skin and realised that it was female. Forgetting entirely that not only was she naked and that this other person was too, Granma stood in the door way with fists on hips and waited for the figure to turn in order to confront her.

Granma coughed to gain the other's attention and the mixture of indignation and afterglow which throbbed through her veins proved fortress against the shock of the woman's next words.

"You've fucked my cunt ragged love, you'll have to give me a minute or..." she paused and raised herself on tip-toes then took hold of the cheeks of her bottom and enquired "you could give in and fuck me here for once."

Granma's arms fell to her sides as she walked forward in a trance to stand behind this naked stranger in her bathroom.




Are You Asleep, Georgie?



"I have no idea what came over me Georgie." Granma said as my breathing now became ragged with lust at her description and then ordered "Bring it here George."

I lifted myself from the bed and then fell to my knees next to Granma who playfully slapped my hand away from my dick and took hold of the shaft in her delicate fingers and began with a deliberate and controlled pace to wank me, then she withdrew the three fingers of her other hand deep within her own cunt and said "Fair's only fair Georgie." then gripped three of my unresisting fingers and slid them inside her dripping twat.

Granma walked up behind the naked woman and took hold of her wide hips and pressed her groin to the girls backside, trying to grind her pubic bone inside.

"Really?" asked the woman, seemingly shocked. "You said you didn't like it last time." And then reached between her legs to take hold of what, by all rights should have been perked there ready for penetration. But the woman's questing fingers found only swollen pussy lips where she was expecting a length of hard dick. "Oh." She squeaked and then "Oh well." And pushed two fingers deep into the cunt that was there instead.

Granma held onto the woman's thighs and pulled hard as she tried to force herself as closely and grindingly hard as she could.

"You like that?" asked the woman. Granma merely grunted in reply. "More?" she asked. Again Granma grunted affirmative and then moaned as four fingers plunged into her. After several thrusts the mystery woman said "Let's do this properly." And so saying quickly stood, turned around and pressed Granma to the floor of the bathroom. "Fair's only fair." She said as she straddled Granma's face with thin, white thighs and proceeded again to fiercely fuck her cunt with four slim fingers whilst pressing her hips down and rubbing her sparsely haired cunt around Granma's mouth, chin and nose.

Granma, for her part, pushed her tongue, at first gingerly and then with a passion into those strange lips, holding on to those strange thighs and received gasps of encouragement in reply.

But Granma had found her 'male' role much more exciting than being finger fucked and with a determined effort rolled the woman over onto her back and disengaged herself from her deep fingers. She turned and pushed a knee between the woman's legs and then took hold of the cheek of her arse and raised her forward. The woman got the idea straight away and grinned, lifting her hips high bringing their twats together, lip to lip and with a little further effort clit to clit.

Granma pulled hard and drove her clit into the woman, fucking her and wanting to penetrate inside. Slim fingers gripped Granma's breasts and dug in deep urging her on to stronger thrusts and closer contact as her orgasm soared and overwhelmed her.

Granma's orgasm soared and overwhelmed her as I jabbed three fingers deep inside her silky old cunt and her hand pulled quick and strong on my cock making me disgorge spurts of spunk over her tits and chest and we slowly came to a halting finish in our mutual masturbation.

As her shuddering body subsided and her breath panted through drooling lips Granma looked for the first time at the mysterious woman she had just fucked.

"It was my daughter Georgie." I groaned aloud as a dry orgasm poured through me on hearing my obvious suspicions confirmed. "Of course, I never told your father." She said as she pulled me by the cock to her waiting mouth. "But she knew though. And she knew she was fucking her son." Then Granma took the head of my cock in her mouth, pressed her hand to my backside and pushed me deep within her throat as I pushed my hand into her sopping cunt.

But that was past, and this is now. Granma was in hospital idling the hours and days away and was very welcoming of all and any visitors.

My first opportunity to visit was on the day of the operation which took six and three quarter hours to perform and actually left her semi-delirious for the rest of the day with the after effects and the pain killers swilling through her bloodstream. She would doze and come round occasionally, sometimes smiling in recognition when I lifted my eyes at some small movement and then she would slowly close her lids, receding from the present.

Granma's bed was in a side ward with one other occupant, another silver haired lady of similar age. At first I took her to be much younger than Granma, she had fine almost translucent skin, and the only wrinkles I could detect were around her eyes, laugh lines as they call them, and one or two creases around the edge of her pale lips. I only discovered her age after Granma had whispered during one lucid moment "I'm sure she's shagging her visitor." Which caused her ward partner to pink her cheeks ever so slightly, gaze at me from beneath lowered lashes and then actually lift the bed clothes to cover her face like she was in some 1920's film.

I smiled apologetically and when Granma seemed to have fallen asleep again the lady beckoned me to her bedside in order to explain the circumstances of what seemed to Granma to be a sexual encounter.

"It's not sex exactly.." she began.

"You don't have to explain. " I told her.

"But I don't want you to have the wrong impression. I'm not some whore that would have sex next door, with just the curtain closed." She paused and looked into my eyes. "Would you close the curtains please? I don't feel comfortable if I can see your Granma could be watching."



Are You Awake?



The morning sun made its way through the partially opened curtains, streaking its bright light across her face. Much of the hotel room, the place she had called home for the last 15 days, was dark. Only the long thin sliver of the crack where the two curtains met allowed the light to enter.

The strip of sunlight started at the top of the Ty Wilson print and traveled down the cream-colored wall to her eyes.

Still in the midst of sleep, she tried to block the sun's ray by closing her eyes tighter. It didn't work; the brightness remained. She instinctively pulled the thick white cotton sheet over her head. Still, the sun wouldn't let her escape its glare. Her eyes weakly began to open and they slowly started to adjust to the light.

She thought about the sun already up and how it couldn't be morning so soon because she had closed her eyes for the night a few hours earlier. She didn't want her eyes to be adjusted. She wanted more darkness, more sleep.

Rolling her naked frame over to escape the gleam, she brought her hand down in search of the extra pillow. Instead of finding the softness of the pillow, her hand rested on flesh. It startled her, but only long enough for her to gain her senses and remember the reason this body was lying next to her.

She opened her eyes again, this time much easier than before and propped herself up on her elbow, her head sitting in her hand and her hair hanging down past her forearm, almost to the pillow, she looked at him.

Calmly he slept. He took deep, slow breaths. She marveled at the simplicity of his actions, his breathing, the way his chest rose as he took in oxygen and the way that it fell when he let the air out. Simple biology, but it amazed her. She reached out to feel his chest. Her hand was too small to cover his entire breast. But, it didn't matter, she felt it. She liked it.

Bump, bump . . . bump, bump . . . bump, bump, his heart pumped.

With her fingers, she lightly felt her way around his chest, stopping every few moments to give it a soft squeeze. With her forefinger, she slowly drew her name - T.. r.. a.. c.. i - into his flesh, making sure when she dotted the 'I', the dot would be right on his nipple.

Traci smiled to herself because she knew how sensitive his nipples were. She used her middle finger to dot the 'I' and quickly put her palm over it because she knew what the reaction would be. And, she liked to feel his nipple harden from her touch.

After doing the same to his other nipple, she snaked her hand lower and rubbed it over the ripples of his stomach muscles. She quickly thought about the amount of time that he must spend keeping his body in such good shape. 

That thought was quickly interrupted.

He took a deep breath and while letting it out, he rolled his body toward Traci and brought a hand down to rest on her waist. Instinctively he rubbed her waist for a few seconds.

Even in his sleep, Traci thought to herself, he does the right thing.

She continued her exploration, caressing his side, up to his shoulder and returning down over his arm to his lower back. Traci let her hand begin to slope over his firm round butt cheek not resisting the temptation to give it a gentle squeeze.

Looking at his face, she could see a slight smile and she wondered if he was awake. But, she saw his lips begin moving the same way a baby's would if he were suckling from his mother's breast. She knew he was still sleep and probably having another of his unusual dreams.

She let her hand drift back around to his lower stomach. Along the way, her wrist touched his sex. A sharp pleasant sensation of fluttered in her stomach as she thought about this private part. He must have been having a nice dream she thought because he was semi-erect.

She used her fingernails and lightly ran them down the length of him then back up. Traci thought to herself how perfect he was. He wasn't the biggest she'd seen and he certainly wasn't the smallest. But his thickness was incredible. "Just right," she smiled.

She felt herself getting aroused, a little moist, and shook her head. How could he do this, not even awake and he was tuning her on. Wrapping her fingers around him, she felt him start to harden. Now she really wondered what he was dreaming about and if she was adding to it. She remembered reading somewhere, in Playboy, maybe Vogue or Rolling Stone, then she thought it may have been in newspaper, that sometimes men can have almost three hard-ons a night while sleeping.

Then she wondered how often there was somebody like her there to induce that hard-on.

"Damn" Traci whispered. "No man should feel this good."

No. But, this one did.

She enjoyed playing with him. She also knew if she didn't quit soon, he would wake up and the game would end. He did wake up, or so she thought. He took his hand off her side, rubbed his head and rolled until he was flat on his back. Traci stayed motionless, her hand still wrapped around him.

As she looked on, his lips went from the suckling motion into a relaxing smile. Again, she wondered about what he was dreaming. He was getting increasingly rigid in her hand and she thought about how he felt. But, now Traci wanted to see it.

She let him go and slowly pulled the thin sheet down from above his waist. As soon as he was exposed, Traci knew the game wouldn't last much longer. She pulled the sheet down a bit further and brought her hand back to his penis, which remained hard.

Traci wondered if she should actually wake him because she knew he had a long day in front of him. He'd surprised her with his weekend visit. She thought he was still in Sydney. But somehow he found time to fly to Barcelona to spend three days with her – they're the little things, the little reasons why she married him 13 years ago.

His penis gave an involuntary jump in her hand and that answered her question. In one fluid motion, she eased the sheet completely off them and rolled over on top of him.

Before he had a chance to rub his eyes and get them focused, Traci positioned herself exactly where she wanted to be.

"Are you awake," she whispered as she eased down, filling herself with him.

"I am now," he smiled.



Are You Being Served



You come home after a long hard day at work.  You're all frustrated and tired from having to deal with traffic.
I tell you not to worry. because, even though your day sucked, your night is gonna get better.

I take you by the hand....and lead you into the kitchen.  That's right I made your favorite for dinner.....
Oh and did I mention that I'm wearing nothing but an apron? Hehe

You sit down at the table and I proceed to serve you......

While you're eating I go and run a bath for you.....

After you eat, I take you by the hand and I lead you to the bathroom, where a nice bubble bath waits for us.....


Mmm, I strip your clothes off of you....and you slowly dip into the perfect water....

I undo my robe and I sit behind you on the edge of the tub.......

I start to run the bubbles over your shoulders...and give you a hell of a massage.... mmmm I run my hands through your hair and rub away that stress headache that I could tell that you had......

I love the way your body feels...wet and naked...is there any better feeling?  I dampen your back and shoulders some more...and I give you one hell of a massage......


I take the shower head, and I wet your hair.....I pull your head back so that it's resting on my breasts as I scrub your head with the shampoo......

While I'm shampooing you, I lean down and whisper in your ear, 'you have no idea what I have in store for you...'

I rinse out the shampoo, and we languish in the tub until the water starts to cool.....As the tub is draining we stand up, and I take the shower head and hose you off....I get one of those little sponge things....and I slowly wash over every inch of your body.....  You go to do the same thing to me, but I said, 'nuh-uh, baby, it's all about you tonight.'

I step out of the tub and quickly dry myself off.  Then I get a big, fluffy towel for you, and start to dry you off.....  Mmm, I can see how hard you are....

I tell you to wait there for a minute, that I'll be right back.


When I get back, I take you by the hand and lead you to the bedroom.  We enter the candlit bedroom.  You notice that on the nightstand, there's a tray of goodies:  a blindfold, two pieces of cloth strips, honey, and strawberries. 

I tell you to lay down on your stomach...and you ease your way onto the satin sheets....  I take some vanilla flavored oil (which was also on the nightstand) and start to massage your back....mmmm I get so excited hearing you moan as I run my hands over your shoulder blades, and work in little circles down your spine.  I take my tongue and lick my way up and down your back...hopefully making your spine tingle.....

I grab your ass and I start to massage and need it, your moans are becomming louder, I say, 'you like?' and all I get is a moan in return.

I tell you to roll over onto your back, and that the fun is just beginning.  I take the blindfold and I place it over your eyes...then I take your wrists, and tie them to the bed.  

I start off, by taking some honey and putting it on my mouth...then I lean down and kiss you, letting the sweetness go all over your lips and into your mouth....I lick on your lips and then let my tongue penetrate further down into your hot wet mouth....

Mmmm, all you can hear are the soft whimpers and moans coming from me while we enjoy a long, passionate kiss.

After our kiss, I reach over and grab one of the strawberries....  I dip it in the honey...then I put it in my mouth and I begin to trace your mouth with it....

I then take it and run it all over your body, down your neck, further to your chest, down of your stomach....I then take down to your balls.....and swirl it around your hard cock....


I eat the strawberry, then I look at you and I say, 'baby, I love your body so much...it's so amazing...I'm gonna do everything I can to please you.'  All you can do is moan your reply to me....

I see you suck in your breath as I take some honey and i pour it all over your chest and stomach, pouring extra onto your nipples...

Then, I prepare my tongue.

I start to lick and suck and nibble on your nipples with the voracity of a tiger....I'm so overwhelmed I can't control myself...the honey, mixed with the deliciousness of your skin...is getting me incredible hot......I suck and lick all over you every ounce of honey....

I bury my face in your chest, your stomach....I lick and suck so fast and furious....mmmm you taste so good......

I take the honey and I pour it over your balls and your cock....oh you are gonna get one hell of a blow job, mister!

I pick up your balls and I greedily start to suck and lick on them...I feel them getting tighter and tighter the harder and faster I suck....I take turns popping each in and out of my mouth...and the loving the way the taste when they're marinated in honey....

Finally, I get to your cock....umm...it's so beautiful....it's gleaming and dripping with honey....it almost looks like a work of art.....I can't wait to get my hands and mouth on it.

I take one hand and I wrap it around the base of your cock....then I take my tongue, and start to run it over the head of your cock.... I then begin to alternate with my tongue....from licking the length of your cock to running it over the head of your cock....I can tell the anticipation is driving you insane, and I have to admit, I love it....

I start to take more of your cock in my mouth....inch by glorious inch....sucking it in harder and tighter as I go down further and further....

I can hear you panting, and I know, you're not gonna be able to hold on for very long.

I start to suck bobbing my head faster and faster as the seconds go by....mmm I love taking the whole length of your cock into my throat....and sucking in my cheeks making my mouth wrap around your cock even tighter....

Mmmm, I'm sucking your cock hard and fast.....

AND THEN...

ALL OF A SUDDEN....

I STOP...

I  get up and i straddle your face....

Then I take some honey and i run it over my clit and around my inner lips....

A drop of the honey runs down off of my clit, mixes with my juices, and lands on your lips..... You eagerly lick it off just before I plant my sopping wet pussy on your mouth....

You take your tongue and you work it over my hard clit, I arch my back.... Mmmmmmmmm I almost die, when I feel your tongue go deep inside of me....I look down and I see your honey/pussy juice soaked face working my tight little cunt..... I start to ride your face harder and harder, and i reach down and grab your head as I fuck your face with a vengeance.

I squeal with delight as I drop buckets of pussy juice all over your face....

You tell me, no you order me, to untie you...

As soon as I untie you, you whip off your blindfold....and you throw me back on the bed....you say, 'I'm gonna fuck you so good, you won't be able to walk straight for a week...'

Mmm, you spread my legs open, as wide as they'll go, and you ram your rock hard cock into my soggy pussy....  You thrust into me so hard and so good, that I'm lifted up on the bed everytime you do it....

You take your cock, and pull it almost all the way out then plunge it back in really deep....I can't think of anything, I can't even say anything...I'm in shock when I hear a loud scream and realize it's me...of course, I shouldn't be shocked, as good as you're fucking me, I'm amazed the cops haven't been called due to the noise...

My pussy is holding up pretty well, considering the pounding it's receiving....it flexes and twitches around your hot rod and your balls slap violently against my ass.....

My whole body is shaking and rocking, my breasts are flopping every which way, and you're grunting and moaning like a wild animal....mmmm I love it this way...it's so primal so wild and crazy.....

I can barely breathe, and it feels like I'm gonna hyperventillate....oh God I love it when you fuck me hard....

We're both drenched with sweat, and there's a huge puddle of juices on the sheets....but who the fuck cares....it feels sooooooo good.

I notice that your speed is changing that you're going deeper even deeper than before....and your rhythm starts to even out....I feel you, you're ready to cum....

You take your cock out and squat over my face....

I take your pussy juice covered tool, and I start to jerk it and suck it...

Mmmm, I can feel you pumping into my hand and mouth, and I know you're gonna cum soon...

AND THEN....

ALL OF A SUDDEN....

YOUR CUM SPURTS OUT ALL OVER MY FACE.....

I greedily hurry to lap up your sweet cum with my tongue and try to swallow as much as I can.....

You roll over on your back and the both of us lay there, totally exhausted.


AFTERMATH:

You're laying there half asleep, and I quietly walk to the bathroom....I get myself cleaned up. Then I return back to the bedroom with a warm, damp cloth....You fall asleep to me cleaning you off.....And just as you drift off, I say, 'Sweetie, I like it when you have a stressful day.'




Are You Big?



"Are you big?"

Silence followed the question. Ellen looked at Max, and Max looked at Ellen. They sat a table in the back of a Mexican restaurant and ate lunch on a Tuesday.

"I didn't mean that," Ellen said.

"It's okay," Max said.

"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't have said that. That was too far."

"It's really okay."

Ellen and Max knew each other from work. She was in her early fifties, and he was in his early twenties. They were friends, and Max was friends with Ellen's daughter, Kate. Ellen introduced them. She hoped they would date.

Ellen and Max ate lunch once a month, always on a Tuesday. Their conversations covered many topics, generally politics and religion, and sometimes sports and sometimes sex. Ellen was a curious woman, and Max was open.

She asked him questions, and he always answered. She liked his opinions and his philosophies and his way of thinking. He was smart and charming and the sort of the boy she would have liked when she was in her twenties.

Sex had become a frequent topic. Slowly, it dominated their conversations. It started when Ellen asked about Max's ex-girlfriend. They had dated for a long time and broke up recently. At first, Max gave few details, but Ellen, again a curious woman, was persistent.

"I want to know for my daughter," Ellen said. "I just think you two would be so good together. Here's her picture. I have it on my phone."

That was how it started. Initially, Max told Ellen he and his girlfriend broke up because of a compatibility problem. The explanation was vague, and Ellen wanted more. She pried over more lunches, and Max told her it was a sexual compatibility problem.

"What do you mean?" Ellen said.

"I don't think I should go into it," Max said.

"It's all right. You can tell me. I'm not a prude."

"I know, but it just seems weird."

"It's not weird at all. Sex is an important part of any relationship."

"Oh I'm aware. We'd still be together, if not for the sex."

"Now, you have to tell me."

Max relented after several Tuesdays. He told Ellen that he loved his ex-girlfriend but there was a lack of sex.

"How so?" Ellen said.

"I wanted to have sex, and she didn't," Max said.

"That's not good."

"No, it wasn't."

"Why didn't she want to have sex?"

"A lot of reasons."

"Like?"

"It's too graphic."

"I'm an adult. It's okay."

Ellen had fierce eyes. The burned under her bob of platinum hair. She stared at him aggressively. The first Tuesday was strange. They met at their Mexican restaurant, and she wore makeup and earrings and a shirt that showed the size of her breasts. Max had never seen her dress like that. And she smiled a lot and she hugged him.

"I'm just curious," Ellen said. "You're a good looking and smart guy. I just can't imagine why any girl wouldn't be attracted to you."

"I'm flattered," Max said. "But I don't think that was the problem."

"So what was?"

"She just didn't like it as much I did."

"Like it?"

"My sex drive was higher. And it was uncomfortable for her."

"Uncomfortable?"

"Yeah."

"Are you big?"

Ellen didn't mean to ask the question. It just came out. But she had been thinking about it. Max was good looking. He worked out, dressed well and combed his hair. She wondered what he looked like under his sweaters and ties. She wondered what he looked like under his skinny pants and the boxer briefs she knew he wore because of a previous conversation that was almost as awkward as this one.

"I'm sorry, Max," Ellen said. "No. I'm so sorry. That was inappropriate. That was too far, and it was inappropriate."

"It's really okay."

"No, it's not. This is your private business, and you shouldn't be talking about it with me."

"I am big."

"What?"

"I'm big. That's why it was uncomfortable for her."

"Max, you don't have to tell me that."

"You asked."

"I know, but you didn't have to answer."

"I don't mind."

Ellen shifted in the booth and adjusted her hair. As usual, she wore makeup and earrings and a shirt that showed the size of her breasts.

"Well then," Ellen said.

"There were other reasons, too," Max said. "Some stuff that happened to her when she was younger, but I was big and it hurt her."

"I'm sorry to hear that. The part about what happened when she was younger. That's unfortunate."

"It is."

"Max, do you mind if I ask you another question?"

"You just did."

"Funny. You know what I mean.

"Sure. Ask whatever you want. I don't think we have many barriers left after that."

Ellen bit her bottom lip. "How big? If you don't mind saying. I totally understand if you don't want to."

"It's fine. And I'm not sure actually. I've never measured."

"I don't believe you. All boys measure."

"Okay. I measured once when I was thirteen or fourteen."

"And how big was it then?"

"Like seven I think."

"At thirteen?"

"Yeah."

"You must be really big now."

"That's what I've been told."

Max laughed and so did Ellen, but only because they didn't know what else to do. Ellen shifted in the booth again and so did Max. They looked at each other differently. Max had noticed the size of her breasts since the first Tuesday and wondered what they looked like underneath that tight shirt.

They finished their Mexican food without further sex conversation. They went back to politics and religion and sports. They split the bill and walked out of the restaurant. They had parked next to each other and stopped to trade parting pleasantries before they got in their cars and drove away.

"We should do this again," Ellen said.

"I'm free whenever you are," Max said. "We should get a beer some time, too. Maybe Kate can come."

"Sure. That'd be fun. Then you two can go out. Kate always likes being with you."

"She just likes to pick on me."

"She does, but you take it well. She likes that. Well, I'll see you later. Have a good day, Max. I always enjoy our lunches."

Ellen turned to get in her car and unlocked the door with the remote on her keychain.

"I'd show you if want to see," Max said.

Ellen turned around. She knew what he meant but wanted to be sure. "What would you show me?" she said.

"What we are talking about earlier."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry. I just thought that, after the conversation, it seemed like you wanted to see. You asked questions. You wanted to know how big. I thought you wanted to see. I'm sorry. That was bad. I shouldn't have said that."

"Yes."

"I know. It was bad."

"No. I mean, yes, I want to see."

"You do?"

"Yes. If you'll show me."

"I will."

Max got in Ellen's SUV, and they drove to secluded place a few minutes away. The drive was quiet and awkward, and Max tried not to get hard. They parked and Ellen turned off the car and looked at Max.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Ellen said.

"Yeah. Are you?" Max said.

"Believe me. I'm very okay with it."

She was smiling and couldn't hide it. She leaned closer, and her shirt got tighter against her breasts.

"Okay," Max said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Ellen said.

Max reclined the seat so he was at forty-five degree angle. He looked out the windows to see if anyone was around. No one was there. He took off his peacoat and threw it in the backseat. Ellen's eyes were fixed on his crotch.

Max undid his belt buckle and pants button and unzipped the fly. He pulled his pants past his knees. He had lean, muscular, almost hairless legs. He wore light blue boxer briefs, and a bulge was visible. He was semi-hard and getting harder.

"Here you go," Max said.

"Okay," Ellen said.

Max pulled down the waistband of his boxer briefs.

"You are big," Ellen said.

"Yeah," Max said.

"Do you shave?"

"I trim."

"I like it. It's so short. And you're so big."

Max held his cock in his hand so it pointed up. He was hard.

"Do you want me to do anything with it?" Max said.

"Like what?" Ellen said. "Are you going to play with it or something?"

"I could."

"How do you do that?"

"I just rub it up and down."

"Show me."

Max rubbed his hand up and down his cock. He was getting harder, and the head was bulging. Ellen leaned closer, and her shirt got tighter on her breasts. Max looked at them as he stroked his dick for her.

"Do you like my breasts?" Ellen said.

"Yeah," Max said.

"Touch them. I don't mind."

She took his hand and put it on her breast and made him squeeze. They were large and soft and warm. She moaned a little, and he kept stroking. Precum leaked from his cock head and some dripped to his knuckle. He used it as lube, and Ellen gasped.

"You can touch it," Max said.

"Okay," Ellen said.

Max let go of his dick, and Ellen put her hand around the base. She brought it up the shaft and to the head. She got precum on her fingers and palms and wiped it down his cock and up again. She didn't stop.

"You feel so big," Ellen said. 

"Do you want to see me cum?" Max said.

"Yeah."

Ellen jerked Max's dick faster. Max reached under her shirt and up her ribs to her bra. He pulled down the cup and squeezed. Then he pulled down the other cup and squeezed. Both her breasts hung out of the bra under her shirt. Her nipples pushed against the fabric.

"I'm going to cum soon," Max said. "I'm close."

"I want you to cum on me," Ellen said.

She let go of his cock and unbuttoned her pants. She wore black cotton panties. She fidgeted in her seat and got her pants and panties to her ankles. She had big pink thighs and a tangled wet bush. She grabbed his dick again and jerked with one hand and used her other hand to put two fingers inside her.

Ellen fucked herself and jacked Max's dick at the same time. She leaned into his ear.

"You know what I can do?" Ellen said.

"What?" Max said.

"I can fit that cock inside me."

"You want me to fuck you?"

"I want you to fuck me."

They climbed in the backseat. They were both naked and wet from the waist down. Ellen sat down, and Max got over her in the small space. She handled his dick and put the head at her pussy and pushed he himself inside her. It didn't go in all the way at first. He had move back and forth and work his cock in a little at time until he fucked her all the way to his balls, and she screamed and cursed, and wetness dripped down her thighs.

He fucked her, and she fucked him. He slammed into her and treated like the wet hole she was. She pulled up her shirt, and her big sagging breasts bounced as he fucked her. He reached under her thigh and held her and pushed her legs apart so he could make his dick go deeper. He grabbed her throat and held her, and she screamed as she took all of his cock and creamed on it.

"I'm going to cum," Max said.

"Cum. I want to see it," Ellen said. "I want to see it on me."

Max fucked her harder, and she screamed again. He could hear her wetness and he felt it drip down his balls. He waited until the last moment to pull out. And when he did he was already cumming, blasting squirt after squirt over her hairless thighs, her wet bush, her stomach and her big tits. And when she thought he was done, a final cum shot splashed hard and hot into her mouth and over her face and down her chin. There were stains on her shirt and on the seat. Cum puddled under pussy and ass and slid in streams down her inner thigh.

Max held himself over Ellen, and she stared at his cock, now wet with her cum and his cum, dangling in her front of her. She jerked it a couple of times and licked the cum off her hand.

"I guess you are big," Ellen said.



Are You Busy



"Are you busy?" Her voice sounded friendly and natural on the phone. "Can you come over?"

"Sure," I replied. "Is there a problem?"

"No, I'd just like to show you something."

When I got there, I knocked on the door and heard her voice say "Come in, the door's open."

I opened the door and stepped inside. She was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a mid-calf length dress with a V-neck and buttons down the full length of the front, I started to move towards her, but she motioned me to stop. Then, without taking her eyes off mine, she slowly and sensually unbuttoned the dress, one button at a time, finally allowing the dress to fall in a pile at her feet. Beneath the dress she was naked, except for a white lace garter-belt and white stockings. Her nipples were pink and hardening with the action that was taking place. Her pussy, with its covering of soft, downy, blonde hair, seemed to be beckoning me to run my fingers, no, my lips across it.

We stood there face to face, a few feet apart, the charge of the situation building as the moments passed. I looked at her face and into her eyes, which now had a wicked, sensuous gleam in them, and at her lips, which were moist and pouting with that seductive look that was so intoxicating. In no time I could feel the stirring in my loins as my erection grew to a point where I felt like I would literally explode!

I slowly walked over to where she was standing and softly caressed her shoulders with my hands, allowing them to slowly trace a path down to her hands and to her very fingertips. She took my hand and led me to the bedroom where she lay back on the bed covers. Kicking off my shoes, but otherwise still clothed, I lay down beside her, taking her in my arms.

I started by softly kissing all over her face. Soft, wet, nibbling little kisses, with occasional little licks. I traced my tongue around the edges of both her ears. Her eyes were closed and her breathing had become much faster. I kissed her eyelids gently and kissed down both sides of her nose. I stopped and ran my tongue very softly around her lips. Her lips parted and our tongues entwined in an erotic dance. Moving down, I ran my tongue gently along her jaw-line and covered her neck with soft little kisses.

Licking slowly and softly, I moved to her breasts...

Her nipples were harder than ever. Alternating, I started licking her breasts all around the base. As I moved towards her nipples, I could feel her heart beating much faster and little sighs escaping from her lips. As I took her left nipple in my mouth and begin gently sucking and nibbling it, I heard a sharp intake of breath and a loud moan. I continue sucking her nipple, feeling it swell even more between my lips. Increasing the suction more, I massage her nipple with my tongue and then took it between my teeth gently rolling it back and forth. She let out an even louder moan as her hands clutched the bedspread.

Stopping for a moment, I raised my head and asked, "Does this feel good to you?" She vigorously nodded her head. Leaning over, I moved to her right nipple and lavished it with the same loving treatment. She now let out little mews every time I licked her nipple or gently rolled it between my teeth. After a few minutes I continued my journey down. Both nipples were standing upright, high and round, and a flush was spreading around her upper shoulders and breasts. I moved down giving her more generous licks and wetter kisses. Tracing my tongue along the edge of her ribcage, I saw her suck in her stomach with a sharp breath and a loud moan. Moving back and forth between her right and left side, I moved down to her pelvic region and stopped just a few inches above her pubic mound.

Slowly moving her legs apart and up, I positioned myself between them and started giving the backs of her knees wet kisses and licks. That produced some big sighs and deep breathing. Placing her feet back on the bed so both her knees were up and her legs apart, I started licking my way down the inside of her thighs. Her lower lips were full and puffy and I softly licked all the way around them without actually touching them. Encouraged by her responses, I give her pussy a big, slow, wet lick starting at the bottom and working up to her clitoris, which was, by now, hard and very sensitive. As I did this she moaned loudly, pushing herself against my tongue.

Using my tongue, I spread her lips, licking back and forth. I took each lip into my mouth and sucked on it. Shuddering and moaning some more, she once again pushed herself against my tongue. Exploring all the folds of her labia, I smelled her sensual musky odor. Looking up I could see her stomach muscles contracting with her rapid breathing. Probing with my tongue, I tasted her sweet juices and took her clitoris gently between my teeth, causing her to suddenly arch her back, and fall back to the bed, with a loud "Ohhhhh".

I looked up. Her chest was flushed, her nipples were standing proud, her breathing was very fast; her hands were clenching and unclenching the bedspread. I returned to my task, slowly sliding my tongue as deep as I could between her lips and into her juicy pussy. I used my tongue, rapidly sliding back and forth, massaging the inside of her delightful and welcoming passage. Her movements were becoming erratic as she neared her orgasm. I continued my tongue movements, concentrating on the little bud that was her clitoris. All of a sudden, she arched her back, shoved herself against my tongue, and clamped my head between her thighs as her orgasm hit...

After her orgasm, we lay in each other's arms. I held her tightly, feeling her heart beating strongly and the heat of her body penetrating my clothing. Slowly, she unbuttoned my shirt as far as she could. Then her fingers unbuckled my belt, undid the waistband of my slacks and lowered my zip. Sensually, she lowered my slacks and briefs and pulled them off, along with my socks. As she pushed back my shirt, she kissed me softly and gently on each shoulder and allowed the shirt to fall in a pile on the bed.

I was getting that unmistakable feeling in my groin. A hand was rubbing, massaging, my erection. Thanks to her, I was very hard, and there was her strong, but gentle, hand on my penis. I looked into her eyes and she smiled an erotic, sensual smile.

I lay back, closing my eyes, and felt her lips on my forehead. I felt the warmth of her breath and her lips all over my face. Her tongue on the edge of my ears and my lips had me tingling. Feeling her tongue on my lips, I took it in, and our lips entwined once again. Her kisses on my neck were exquisite. She moved lower. She ran her tongue softly around my right nipple and then gently sucked it, which caused my toes to curl. After a few moments she moved to the left, which resulted in a small moan escaping from between my clenched teeth. As she continued down, I saw her beautiful eyes looking up at me and a big smile on her face.

Now, she traced her tongue along the edge of my ribcage, then moved down to my stomach and gave me big wet kisses as she worked her way down to my groin. Moving so she was positioned between my legs, she licked along the inside of my thighs. My breath was definitely getting faster! She gave my rock-hard shaft a big, wet lick, starting at the base and working up to the head. Sucking in a sharp breath, I let out a moan.

I heard a soft "How am I doing?"

"You are awesome," I replied, almost breathlessly.

She licked me again, this time licking my testicles, which she then gently sucked into her mouth.

Doing this sent me into another realm! "Oh! My God!" I uttered.

"Did I do something wrong?" She said, looking concerned.

"No, you did something very right!"

She resumed sucking and licking my testicles. My heart was beating so hard and fast and my erection was throbbing. She once more licked up to the head of my penis and took my erection in her mouth as far as she could. Slowly bobbing her head up and down, I felt her tongue on the underside of my shaft, and her warm breasts pressing against my thigh.

"I'm getting ready to cum," I gasped.

Looking up at me, she continued her slow up and down movement. The underside of my erection was becoming extremely sensitive, especially around the head. Like a speeding train I felt my orgasm rushing through my body. When my first ejaculation comes, she stopped, keeping my erection in her mouth. It felt like I had cum forever, and when my orgasm had subsided, I felt her tongue moving around, rubbing my head, which was very slick with my juices. I was so sensitive, that I arched my back moaning loudly, as it was my turn to clutch the bedspread. She lifted up her head, letting some of my juice slide down my softening shaft to the base. She tenderly licked around my shaft and its base as I lay there basking in the sensations.

We embraced and kissed, tasting our juices on each other's lips. There was a warmth and a glow about us. The night was still young! 



Are you Circumcised?



These events happened in the 1980s when I worked for a bank in India. In those years women were very conservative and did not know much about sex. I used to work in the loans department along with two other women. I was in my early thirties and they were in their late twenties. Our boss was in his late forties and because we were short staffed he would most of the time be looking after another department and was usually not around. Our department was located in a loft area of the branch so we were pretty much secluded from the rest of the branch.

One nice sunny Monday, my two colleagues Anita and Padma were discussing something in the local language which I was not very fluent in. I could tell that they were contemplating asking me something but were hesitant. This went on all morning and continued through the afternoon. I was curious as to what they were discussing. Finally towards closing time Anita found the courage to ask me.

Padma had received a loan application from a customer who wanted Rs.5,000 to get his son circumcised. I guess she had heard what circumcision was and was explaining it to Anita who was rather taken aback by the explanation. 

She asked me, "Robert, do you know what circumcision is." "Yes, why do you ask."

"Padma here has received a loan application from a customer who wants to have his son circumcised. We Hindu's do not do this. What exactly is it?"

The question took me by surprise, but it also excited me as I got a chance to talk to these two beautiful colleagues about the male genitalia. I explained to them that just like their husbands penis' there is foreskin covering the head of the penis. Some religions mandate that this skin must be removed as it harbours bacteria specially if the penis is not cleaned on a regular basis. There are also some studies that suggest it is healthier to have a circumcised penis. It is considered a very minor operation. 

"Are you circumcised Robert?." 

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am."

"Do you mind if we can see your circumcised penis. We are curious what it looks like because we have only see our husbands."

My cock began to stir in my pants and I had no other option but to put my hand down to my crotch and adjust my quickly growing erection. 

The bank was closing and at that moment the branch manager came upstairs and asked us if we were staying late to work. I said yes maybe for a couple of hours, so he asked me to lock the doors from inside and he would be back at 7.00 p.m. to lock the branch.

When I returned from locking the doors Padma and Anita had this shy looks on their faces. "Sorry, I asked you this question Robert. We better be leaving now."

"Don't you want to see my circumcised penis." 

"Yes, but.....oh my God, its so beautiful and ......big."

Before she could answer I had unzipped my zipper and with some difficulty taken out my cock which was now jutting out of my pants . It was a good five inches and very thick with its proud red head protruding forward. 

Anita and Padma were mesmerized by my cock. "Wow, it is beautiful, can we touch it?" Padma asked.

"I don't know about that, because it will become even bigger then."

"Really, please let us touch it Robert."

"Okay then, if you insist." Padma got up from her seat and pulled up a chair next to Anita and I moved forward. First Padma circled my cock with her hands. I found out that they had never sucked on cock before. I had to guide them.

"Stroke it up and down Padma and you will see that it will become bigger." She began to stroke it while I took Anita's hands and got her to play with my low hanging balls. My cock began to grow bigger with every stroke and soon it was at its full length of seven inches. Anita now took over the stroking of my cock while Padma squeezed my balls. 

I was in heaven, looking down at these two beautiful goddesses stroking my manhood. I now had to see if I could get them to suck on my cock.

"Have you ladies ever sucked your husband's cock."

"No."

"I can't blame you because uncircumcised cock is not very nice to suck on, but if you want you can suck my cock."

"Here let me show you how."

With that I asked Padma to close her eyes and open her mouth. I edged forward and slipped my cock into her mouth and instinctively she closed her mouth on my cock. I then began to lightly fuck her mouth and she got the message and began to move her head back and forth. I allowed her to suck my cock for a minute before taking it out and placing it in Anita's mouth. And then again after some time I switched to Padma. 

"Now lick my cock with your tongue from the base right up to the top. There you go, that's it."

This was the greatest moment of my life; looking down to see these two beautiful women playing with my cock. 

Padma and Anita began to discuss something again in their native tongue.

"Robert, we want you to fuck us, right now and right here."

Upon hearing this my mind went into overdrive and my cock began to twitch violently.

"I would love to fuck you both. Both of you lie down on this table side by side."

With both Padma and Anita on the table I lifted up their legs and quickly slipped off their panties under their saris. Their lovely bushy vaginas came into full view. I began to lick Anita's pussy.

"Robert, what are you doing."

"Just relax Anita and enjoy yourself."

I continued to lick her pussy and I could see that she had never been licked before. I licked and sucked on her clitoris and she began to moan. Padma was watching intently with her eyes wide open. I could tell that she had also never been licked before. I now switched to Padma's pussy which was prettier than Anita's. Padma began to moan and groan.

After a while I switched back to Anita who began to really get into things. Both women, because they had never experienced anything like this before, came quickly in succession. 

"Oh, Robert. That was the most thrilling feeling in the world. This is the first time I have experience orgasm," Padma said and Anita agreed.

"Okay ladies, now it is time for me to enjoy."

With that I placed the head of my rock hard manhood at the entrance to Padma's pussy. I rubbed it up and down a few times to coat the head off my cock with her juices. I made Padma spit on my hand and rubbed her spit on my cock. I guided my cock to her pussy lips and slowly began to enter her. Her wetness made my entry easy and soon I was fucking her on the office table with Anita's pussy beside her.

Fucking Padma with her sari on was amazing. She had undone her blouse and exposed her breasts for me to play with as I was fucking her. I fucked her for five minutes before exiting and moving over to Anita. Anita's pussy was also inviting, easy entry. I began to fuck her with long, rhythmic strokes. Anita had her eyes closed and was enjoying my fucking. 

I detached myself from Anita and went over to Padma. I got her off the table and made her bend down. I lifted up her sari which had fallen down as she got off the table. Her shapely bottom was open for me to use. I entered her from behind and began to fuck her. 

"Robert I love your fucking me from behind. It is a very different and nice feeling, my husband does not fuck me from behind."

"It is called doggy-style," I told her. She laughed.

I began fucking her hard and the slapping sounds of our fucking echoed in the loft. Anita in the meantime had got off the table and was now offering herself doggy-style. I went over to Anita and began to fuck her.

I began to feel myself reaching the point of no return. My sperm was aching to come out. I made Padma remain in the doggy position while I fucked Anita hard. And then it happened. I began to ejaculate inside Anita. After about ten spurts I quickly took out my cock and shoved it into Padma and deposited the remainder of my sperm inside Padma. There was a streak of spunk across both Anita and Padma's butt as a result of my switching from Anita to Padma. 

I took out my cock from Padma and watched as both their pussy's dripped cum. Padma and Anita pulled up their panties.

"Thanks for showing us your circumcised penis Robert, and we hope to see more of it," Anita said. Padma nodded in agreement.

"You can bet on it ladies."



Are You Coming Downstairs?



I was sitting on the couch and heard her coming down the stairs. But when she stepped onto the floor and turned down the hall, I heard something unexpected -- instead of her feet padded in slippers, I heard the "clack" of high heels.

I looked up, and was amazed by what I saw.

She leaned in the doorway and smiled at me. She wore 4 inch black heels and her pearl necklace. She was clad in one of my white, pinstriped dress shirts, buttoned halfway up. Loosely knotted in the collar, she wore one of my ties. The shirt hung open at her chest, with the tension of the tie holding the shirt closed across her chest and only revealing a hint of cleavage. The shirt clung to her sides, framing her shapely hips and flaring open at the bottom, revealing a glimpse of black panties underneath.

"I always liked this shirt. What do you think?"

I was breathless. "You look fantastic."

She flexed her leg forward, tightening her calves. "I get to wear these shoes again, too."

Looking at her trim, shapely leg stretch out, I stood up and stepped toward her. "Just gorgeous. Sexiest thing I've ever seen."

She smiled. "Sweetie."

"I mean it," and I wrapped my arms around her as we kissed deeply.

I guided her over to the couch and leaned her back. As she sat and reclined into the corner, she lifted one leg and languidly stretched it out, the other remaining on the floor. I put one hand on her knee and the other on her thigh.

I leaned over her, kissed her neck, and then her lips. The kiss lingered, and I moved one hand up to caress her neck. My other hand cupped her chin, then I sat up, running my hands down her shoulder and sides, looking at her body.

I was transfixed -- the little hint of chest exposed behind my tie, the fabric pulling taut across her stomach and flaring out where her hips were exposed. I could feel the tension in her legs from the shoes. Her hand held my elbow, she looked up at me.

"I can't stand it. You look so great that I don't know where to look first."

Another smile. "I'm glad you like it so much," and she started to unknot the tie.

I stood. "I've got to get the camera. I want to save the moment."

She scrunched up her face. "No ..."

"Oh, come on. You look beautiful. You are totally covered. For our own personal use. We'll delete anything you don't like. Promise."

"Okay."

I got the camera and came back to the couch. She was sitting up.

"Alright, why don't you recline like you were before. Put one leg up. Then your legs will look great."

I started taking some pictures as she leaned back. 

"I don't know what to do with my hands," she said, clasping them together in front of her.

"Put one on your leg. Play with the tie," I suggested.

With that she started to relax and soon she was flirting with the camera, pulling the tie up by her face, running her hand through her hair, and stretching her body out.

"Oh, I like this so much," I said. "That's beautiful. Keep going."

She sat up, put her elbow on her knee and ran her hand through her hair.

"Sexy, oh, so sexy," I whispered.

The tie was loosened a little, and the shirt was coming open at the top. Meanwhile, the shirt was sliding up her body a little, revealing more of her thigh.

"I can't believe how great you look. I can hardly stand it," I said. "Do you feel sexy? You should."

She smiled. "I do." And she started unbuttoning the shirt further.

"Wonderful. Open it up. Undo the tie."

She did, and then she laid back, the shirt open but covering her, the tie falling, undone, down her chest.

"Open the shirt for me."

She smiled and did, revealing her beautiful breasts. I kept shooting.

"I'm so turned on. You look so great."

"I am too. Maybe you should come and get me."

"I'm not done here," as I kept shooting. "Cup your breasts."

She placed her hands under her breasts, sliding them up and together. Her thumbs brushed her nipples. Her breathing caught a little, then started to quicken. I knew that sound -- she was getting turned on.

"Gorgeous. Keep going. I want some more shots of your whole body," I said as I stepped away.

She kept brushing her nipples, looking at me, smiling slightly. The shirt had fallen to her sides, the tie laid across her stomach. She swung one of her high heel-clad legs toward me.

"I want you over here."

I knelt, getting a great shot that highlighted her taut legs and had her hands over her breasts framing her face looking at me.

"Touch between your legs."

She slid one hand down her belly, over her panties, one finger probing lower. She found her sensitive lips under the fabric, pressed in, and slowly drew upward. I took a final pair of shots and set the camera aside.

The sensation of her finger against the fabric of her panties surged through her, and she closed her eyes, arched her back, and inhaled loudly. I stood still, watching, excited to see the beauty of her stimulating herself. She let out a small, excited whimper. Her finger went up and down against her lips, drawing moisture out of herself, twisting the fabric against her sensitive parts, then her finger drew upward, circling her clitoris. I stood and watched for about 10 seconds, my excitement raging, my desire building.

"Oh ... Mmmm ... Mmmm .... Baby ... come now ..." she moaned, leaning back, eyes tightly closed.

I leaned over her, placing my hand between her legs, over her hand which she quickly pulled away. I resumed the pressure on her clitoris, then leaned in and kissed the back of the hand that was covering her left breast. She removed that as well, and I placed my mouth over her firm nipple

"Aaahhh ...." she breathed.

It didn't take long for the sensations of an orgasm to begin to build up in her. She rocked her hips against my hand, pressed up and pushed her panties down. Once my fingers returned to her now-bare clitoris, she started pressing against me and moaning.

My tongue worked faster on her nipple, she bucked against my hand. The orgasm was on her, and she stretched and arched her back, lifting off of the couch. 

"Oh....!! There! There!!!!" she squealed, breathing quickly. Her body went taut, her legs began to shake.

I pressed against her, my finger switching to hit her clitoris with the bottom of the finger while the tip pressed inside of her ever so slightly.

She fell back breathing quickly. I pressed two fingers into her, circling quickly, and stood slightly, working at my pants with my other hand.

"Oh yes ... Oh yes ... get these off," She said, pulling at my pants and reaching inside, her hand finding me as stiff as I could be. Her insides squeezed against my fingers and her moisture surged against them. She let go of me and grabbed the couch.

"Oh ... I'm going to come again .... Ohhhh!!!!!" 

And she surged over the edge into another orgasm, squezing against my moving fingers, her moisture increasing. Once she fell back, I removed my fingers and swung my body over her.

"Ready, my beautiful lady?"

"Uh huh ... Yeah ... Now ..."

I slipped inside of her easily, pressing myself deeply in, remaining sitting and pulling one leg up to my shoulder.

"I want to be able to see you."

"Okay .." she panted. "That's fine. Just keep doing that."

I thrusted against her gently, then more quickly. she kept breathing quickly, her hands moving all over the place ... against the couch, in her hair, across her body.

"Oh .... keep going ... faster .. " She wrapped her other leg around me.

I couldn't stop. Too turned on to go slowly, I began to thrust more and more quickly, pressing into her as she drove my movements with the pressure of her leg.

"Oh, I'm going to finish ..." I breathed.

"Ahhh ...." she cried out, both hands holding her face.

I surged over the top into orgasm, pumping against her, bucking quickly. She pulled me tight with her leg, while I held the other one against my shoulder. We held that position until I had given her all I could, then we relaxed.

"That was fantastic," I said, leaning over her and kissing her deeply.

She nodded and we embraced.

Then she opened her eyes and asked, "How do you think I'd look in your tan cashmere sweater?"



Are You Curious?



"So you're bi-curious?" She asked me as she started undressing. I said "yes", a little shy. I began undressing as well. She approached me and started kissing me, slow and sensual. We went over to the bed and both lay down. She started kissing me again, her tongue intermingling with mine. She started kissing my neck and then moved to my breasts. She sucked on my nipples, then nibbled a bit - almost painful. She moved down between my legs. She slowly started licking my pussy lips then onto my clit. It was very erotic. She inserted a finger and began finger fucking me. I looked at the two guys in the room, quietly watching. They seemed to be enjoying the show. 

She came back up and began kissing me again. Then she crawled next to me and I took the cue that it was my turn. I moved over to her and started by kissing her, moving to her neck, and then to her breasts. Both nipples were pierced, so I let my tongue play with the nipple jewelry. Then I moved down to her thighs and started licking the inside of her thighs. She moaned. I moved closer and closer to her pussy with my tongue. When I started licking what I hoped was her clit, she really started moaning. I inserted a finger like she had done and continued to lick her as I moved my finger in and out. When I stopped, the guys moved over to the bed and both sat down. 

She crawled on top of her husband and started loudly sucking on his cock. My partner knelt in front of me and I took his cock in my hands and then in my mouth. Both men were moaning with pleasure. My partner lay down and I continued sucking his cock. I don't remember what prompted the switch, but soon she climbed on top of my partner and began eagerly sucking his cock. I found a strawberry flavored condom and starting sliding it onto her husband's cock. He moved so he was lying on his back and I climbed over to get the best position to his cock. I slowly started licking the outside shaft and then put the head in my mouth. He moaned. I moved my mouth further down and started massaging his balls with my hands.

I looked over at my partner and his wife. She was really getting into it. I could tell just by watching that she gave really good head. My partner was moaning. I focused back on the cock in my hands. Every time I went down, I got more and more of his cock in my mouth. He grabbed my hair and helped push my head up and down on his cock. After a while he sat up and we knelt on the bed. I was stroking his cock while he rubbed my pussy. Then he motioned for me to lie down and he buried his head between my legs and started eating my pussy. His tongue worked my cunt intensely as he slid a finger in and out of my wet hole. It wasn't long before he sat up and positioned himself between my legs; he had an intense, hungry look in his eyes. I asked if we needed a new condom and he quickly put a new one on. This gave me another opportunity to look over at the other couple. It was very exciting to watch my partner pumping his cock in and out. He had a look of pleasure on his face and she was moaning excitedly. 

He was ready. He positioned himself between my legs once again. He grabbed onto my legs and lifted me up a bit to get better access to my pussy. The hungry look was back. He slowly started inserting his cock inside. It didn't take too much effort -- I was very wet from watching and listening to the other two going at it. Pretty soon he had his whole cock inside and was slowly starting to pump in and out. He soon sped up and began moaning. He lifted my legs so they were at his ears and he started fucking my pussy hard. He was slamming me against the headboard. At first it felt good, but soon it began to be a bit painful. Just when I was about to say something, he pulled out and turned me over. 

He grabbed my ass and angled me until he had a good view of my pussy from behind. I had a much better view of his wife and my partner now -- they were fucking away. It was hot. She was making a lot of noise which made it all the more erotic. I felt his cock touch the outside of my cunt. I reached between my legs and grabbed his cock to help guide it in. Again, I was so wet he had no trouble sliding it all the way in and pretty soon was pumping me from behind. He grabbed my hips and fucked me harder and harder. I was moaning loud. So was his wife. Again, the look on my partner's face was intense pleasure, which turned me on more. As we both continued to fucked, she slid underneath me and started sucking my breasts, then kissing me. But her husband was fucking me so hard we couldn't stay connected. 

He stopped and hopped off the bed. He flipped me over again and dragged me to the edge of the bed. He lifted my legs to his ears again and stuck his cock in my pussy hard. He took no time starting to pound my pussy again. After a minute or two, he slid out and pushed me back until there was enough room for him to climb on top of me again. We each stopped for a second to look over at the others and then when he looked back, he had the hungry look in his eyes again. He guided his cock back to my wet pussy and slid it in with ease. He wrapped my legs around him as he began fucking me once again. I told him how deep he was fucking me and his wife began making even more noise. His look was becoming more and more intense. Pretty soon he urgently told me to pinch his nipples. I could tell he was close to cumming. Now I was only focused on his face, his moaning, his cock sliding in and out, and pinching his nipples. I was excited at the anticipation of a stranger cumming in my pussy. Pretty soon he moaned in ecstasy and released his load. I kept pinching his nipples as he started pumping slower and eventually stopped. He had a very satisfied look on his face as he climbed off me and slid off the condom.

Now I turned my full attention back to the other couple. My partner was fucking her from behind. I slid my hand under her and began massaging her pussy, rubbing up and down. She began moaning louder. My partner pushed her down on the bed as he continued to fuck her. He had pushed her down on my hand so I continued to rub her pussy. She was groaning with excitement. We were all watching intently as he cried out and emptied his cock into her. This got me wet all over again. He slowly slid out and climbed off of her. He slid off the condom and came back to lie on the bed with the rest of us. Her husband was sitting in the chair next to bed, still looking extremely satisfied. We all idly chatted for a bit and then the other couple started getting dressed. I started to get dressed again too, but my partner quietly stopped me. 

We waited until the couple left and then he pushed me back on the bed and climbed on top of me. My pussy was still very wet from the excitement of the evening. He began fucking me as we talked about what just happened. The thought that his was the second cock in my pussy that evening was very hot. I thought about him cumming inside the other woman's cunt and I started to cum. It was a very intense orgasm. My partner moved me into all the same positions I had been in earlier that evening. When he got me to the final position - him on top - and we talked about how I had another cock cumming in my pussy, he soon released his hot cum deep inside my cunt. It was a very satisfying end to a very exciting night. 



Are You Decent, My Dear?



A famous psychologist of a later age would declare that there are no accidents. But is it true? Surely on that June evening in 1886, when Miss Julia Bannister's bedroom door was left slightly open as she dressed for dinner, surely that was just an accident.

And it was surely an accident that her cousin by marriage, Lewis Wellman, happened to walk down the hallway at that very moment. Mere happenstance that he saw movement through the opening in the door: a glimpse of something pale; so intriguing that he paused and then approached Julia's bedroom.

But when Lewis pushed the door open and silently entered, that was certainly no accident. It was, rather, the act of a man for whom discretion and good manners, inculcated in him since childhood, evaporated in an instant. A man for whom all propriety was now forgotten.

The reason for this was no less than the sight of Julia Bannister's naked derriere.

To his dying day, Lewis would remember the scene. Julia had drawn the lace curtains that covered her window, so that the room was bathed in soft golden light from the setting sun. It reflected off the colored glass shade of the brass lamp beside Julia's four-poster bed. It lit up the marble surface of her washstand.

The room was opulently furnished in drapes and a Brussels carpet, their rich textures and colors epitomizing the luxury of the age. Amid this splendor, the crowning touch as it were, stood the nude woman, standing with her back to Lewis at her mahogany dresser. Having laid out her evening clothes and removed her afternoon attire following a spirited round of lawn croquet, Julia had just finished washing herself.

In the warm light of the room, the woman's bare skin and her reddish blonde hair, massed heavily at the back in the style of the day, seemed to glow with a life of their own. Below her eighteen-inch waist, achieved through years of wearing a tight corset, were two magnificent cream-colored mounds that held Lewis transfixed.

Julia turned slightly, resting her weight on her left leg, so that her left buttock formed a perfectly round hemisphere while the right buttock became now more extended. Thoroughly enchanted by this voluptuous display, the man continued to gaze in wonder.

He let his eyes roam down to the woman's thighs, as sleek as porcelain; then to her well-formed calves. This contrast of soft plump buttocks with firm shapely legs created, in Lewis' mind, a sensuous aesthetic that was greater than each alone. He felt that what he was seeing gave some new, fundamental insight into women in general and Julia in particular.

The woman was holding a pair of white silk drawers in her left hand. Undecided as to what to put on, she bent over to retrieve a pair of pink drawers from the bottom of her dresser. In doing so she revealed a nap of russet pubic hair between her nether cheeks. Also, so faint as to be as much imagined as truly seen, puffy labia separated by a cleavage.

The only sound was the call of mourning doves in the elms outside Julia's window. Lewis himself was as silent as if he were stone. Yet some sixth sense, or perhaps women's intuition, caused Julia to look over her shoulder and see the young man admiring her display.

"Oh great heavens!" she gasped. "Lewis, what are you doing in here! Get out!" With this outcry she turned to face the young man, covering herself with the drawers.

Lewis expected a mantle of shame to cover him; a flood of apologies to come pouring from his lips. But nothing of the sort happened. He felt rather a masculine joy that the world offered such beauty as his eyes had just beheld; feminine charms that before this moment had been vague speculation.

"Cousin," came a voice that was his own, "I must say, you are a most attractive woman."

Julia brushed away the hair from her forehead. Her eyes, normally as blue and serene as the waters of nearby Lake Ontario, were now dark with anger. Cheeks that were always the softest peach had in a trice become a vivid crimson.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed. "I always thought you a gentleman, Lewis Wellman! This is inexcusable! Get out or I will scream!"

Still relishing what he had seen, Lewis spoke again. "I'll leave, cousin Julia. But I wish I could stay. I wish my hands could caress your soft body, and my lips worship the beauty you've shown me. I truly wish I could do that."

Upon hearing this, the woman staggered back, near speechless and gasping for breath. "Oh! Oh you hound!" she cried. "I'll tell Uncle Jesse! Leave my room now, Lewis!" She hesitated, her voice tremulous. "Please?"

The last word finally broke the spell that the young woman's derriere had cast over him. "Yes, Julia, as you wish," Lewis nodded. With that he was out the door and walking briskly down the hall.

He returned to his own guest bedroom at Greenleaf, the summer retreat of his Uncle Jesse Garrison, located on the shores of Lake Ontario near the village of Fair Haven, New York. He, along with his half brother Thomas, had been invited to spend the weekend there with Julia, her mother Alice, and the Garrison family.

Lewis waxed his trim moustache and then donned his waterfall tie and waistcoat for dinner. As he did so, the image of Julia's delightful curves lingered. He smiled as he realized, quite correctly, that he could relive in his mind every second of the incident, and might do so for years to come. Never again would he view a woman in quite the same way; rather now with a new and certain knowledge of the charms that lay beneath her clothing.

So he felt no remorse. Although he was quite fond of Julia, not even the thought of her anger could, in Lewis' mind, erase the pleasure that viewing her nude body had given him.

Lewis joined Thomas and Uncle Jesse's sons Charles and Wallace in the drawing room for an aperitif. Soon he was approached by Newton, Uncle Jesse's butler.

"Sir," the man spoke in his usual dispassionate voice, "Mr. Garrison would like to see you in the study. At once."

A daunting group awaited Lewis when he entered the study. On the left of the brick fireplace stood Julia, her mother Alice, and Jesse's wife, Aunt Lucy. Dressed formally for dinner in their heaviest silk, their faces were grim. They gazed at the young man as if he were a particularly repulsive insect. 

To the right of the fireplace stood Uncle Jesse Garrison, who had made his fortune in the flour mills of nearby Rochester, where he and his family lived. In every way he was an imposing figure, tall and robust, with a shock of dark hair and a great spread of mutton chop whiskers. Now the man's face was reddened by anger, with alarming tinges of purple on his cheeks.

He came to the point. "Lewis," he growled in his baritone voice, "I cannot believe what I've just heard. Did you enter Julia's bedchamber unannounced, and observe her in a state of undress?"

Time to pay the piper, Lewis thought. He placed his hands behind his back, as a man facing the firing squad might, and said, "Yes sir, I did."

"Then you will leave Greenleaf at once, young man. But first you will offer your most sincere apologies to Julia. Now."

Lewis turned to the ladies, who were waiting in a state of high dudgeon. He first bowed slightly from the waist to Julia's mother, saying, "Mrs. Bannister?"

Then he turned to Julia. She was, in his eyes, never more elegant and beautiful than at that moment. Her lace-covered blouse, with a raised collar enclosing her long graceful neck, accentuated the rosy blush of her cheeks. 

For a few seconds his eyes roamed over her brow from which came her nose in a straight classical line. Lewis gazed into her blue, long-lashed eyes, now harboring within them a smoldering fire. Rather than reducing her in some way, his observation of her nude body had the opposite effect. Julia Bannister seemed more than ever a perfect embodiment of womanly flesh and spirit.

"Julia," Lewis began, "I do truly regret that my behavior caused you such deep embarrassment." 

He should have let it go at that. A more circumspect man would have, but Lewis had always been an impetuous youth. At the moment, the image of his cousin's lush round derriere was still fresh in his mind.

"But for myself I feel no remorse," he went on recklessly. "I would view you again that way if I had the chance. Until today I never knew that the part of you concealed by clothing is every bit as lovely as the features you show the world. You are without doubt ..."

"Oh my word!" shrieked Aunt Lucy. "He's a raving lunatic! Jess, do something!"

The eyes of the women were wide with shock at Lewis' bold words. Alice hissed, "Of all the nerve!" At the same time Julia stepped forward and exercised her prerogative as an aggrieved woman. She slapped Lewis soundly, causing his face to jerk to the left. A red weal appeared on his cheek.

Uncle Jesse had in the meantime gone to the corner of the room and returned with a riding crop in his hand. "Now you listen to me, young man!" he snarled. "Many a scoundrel has felt the wrath of this crop across his back. And kin or no, I won't hesitate to use it on you. Get out of my house! Get out, you rascal!"

The air was electric with tension. Still reeling from the force of Julia's blow, Lewis again bowed and hurriedly walked from the room. Uncle Jesse followed, but to the young man's relief he withheld the punishment of the riding crop.

Newton politely held open the front door as Lewis continued his retreat. Uncle Jesse stood on the portico, watching him silently as he made his way to the stables. In a few moments his horse Pegasus was saddled and ready.

Lewis gave him the spur and cantered down the long gravel driveway of Greenleaf and out to the main road. He took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. But still the young man felt no remorse. Another treasured memory of the day had been added, one that he now recalled.

After Julia had so thoroughly slapped him, their eyes met for a few seconds. In her flashing blue eyes was anger and distress. But something more as well. Lewis had seen excitement, even to yearning. He realized that his viewing her naked body, and his words of praise for her figure, had aroused in Julia no small amount of passion. It was there in the young woman's eyes. 

*******

Lewis enjoyed an easy ride through the summer twilight to the hamlet of Sterling, arriving just after seven in the evening. There he loaded Pegasus onto a horse transport car and bought a first class ticket for himself on the Rome, Watertown, & Ogdensburg Railroad. At nine o'clock he and the horse arrived in Rochester.

From the railroad station, he rode Pegasus to a livery stable near the house where he lived with his mother Wilma and his half brother Thomas. After stabling the animal, he did not go home, but rather took a hansom cab to the edge of the city. 

The cab entered Carroll Road, a small but well traveled lane. After indicating his stop, Lewis paid the cab driver and walked to the small raised porch of a nondescript house. On the wall next to the door was mounted a small gaslight. It was enclosed within a glass cover whose hue was the brightest shade of red. 

After one knock, a small peephole in the door opened; shortly Lewis was admitted. Dicie O'Malley, proprietor of the establishment, greeted him. The woman was in her late 40s, an ornate satin dress covering her ripe figure. She had a prominent widow's peak, to the point of appearing to be growing bald. 

"Well now," she smiled, "Master Wellman. And to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I've come to read Bible verses to the girls," Lewis said straight-faced. 

"Right," said the madam. "Why else would a strapping young man come here?"

Lewis then grinned, saying, "Is Meg available?"

"Let's see," the madam replied. She drew from the cleavage of her great bosom a small pocket watch that was on a chain around her neck. "Give the dear another five minutes. Join me in a brandy?" 

Lewis did so. After the brandy, he was handed the key to an upstairs room. Holding a bottle of port and two glasses, he mounted the stairs and walked down a dim hallway. Behind closed doors could be heard moans, grunts, and once, a woman's throaty laugh.

He entered his assigned room and examined the setting. The room was narrow, lit by one flickering gaslight, with a grimy window at the far end. To the right of the door was a rumpled bed, and opposite that a night stand. Beyond the bed stood a rack on which clothes could be hung. In the corner sat a brass spittoon.

A Negro girl, no more than a child, came into the room. A bored expression on her face, she filled a basin on the nightstand with water from a jug that she had been carrying. After placing several hand towels beside the basin, she left, having never glanced at Lewis or made any comment.

Lewis opened the window to allow fresh air into the room, which was redolent with the stale odor of cigars, whisky, human sweat, semen and cheap perfume. It was the odor of sin; of countless hurried sexual unions; of carnal pleasure taken as best as society allowed.

Lewis removed his outer clothing, leaving his undervest, and underdrawers that extended to his knees. He was reclining on the bed when Meg entered. She was in her early 30s, a great horsy Scotswoman whose head was covered with frizzy auburn hair.  

"Ay, laddie," she smiled, speaking in a thick Scottish brogue, "so ye've come to see yer Aunt Meg."

Lewis returned her smile, feeling in spite of himself a swell of affection for the whore. Meg was a vivacious woman whom everyone liked because it was impossible to do otherwise. Thomas had brought him to this house and to Meg on his eighteenth birthday, where he yielded up his virginity to the woman. Although he had been tempted to try other girls of the house, Lewis always asked for Meg, faithful in his own way.

A warm amity had grown between the young man and the hooker. To Lewis, Meg was indeed like a jovial aunt, if ever one had an aunt who readily spread her thighs for any man willing to pay for his pleasure.

Meg was wearing a thin camisole and knee-length drawers open in the crotch. Like the woman herself, they were of good quality but now well-worn. She settled onto the bed next to Lewis as he handed her a glass of port. 

"Well, Meg," he smiled. "How's tricks?"

"They've been better, me boy," she said as she took a sip of wine and patted him on the thigh. "I'm beginnin' to think I should have chosen some career besides whoring. Time was when I was happy to go all night, but now after half a dozen or so, I just wish they'd leave me to me knitting."

Shaking her head, the woman continued. "Every year the men become fatter and they smell worse. What a shame they ain't all firm young sweetmeats like yourself, laddie."

"Oh, but ye didn't come here to listen to an old doxy's blether now, did ye? You want something more satisfying, I fancy."

"Yes, but not just yet. You know Meg, it occurs to me that I've never seen much of that fine body of yours. Not your tits or even your cunny, although I've been a regular guest there."

The woman smiled. "Ye've never needed that to get yerself up. Why now?"

"Something happened today. I realized for the first time how beautiful is a woman's body." Lewis then related the day's events to Meg, ending with him being unceremoniously ordered off the premises at Greenleaf.

"Ay, the poor little darlin'," Meg laughed after Lewis had finished his story. "How awful she must feel, knowing a man has seen her bum. Tsk." As she spoke she rose from the bed and pulled the camisole over her head and let it fall to the floor. Now Lewis viewed her great pendulous breasts, with wide areolae that were only a shade more pink than the rest of her endowments.

The woman cupped and fondled her breasts. "Pity they've fallen so. But when I was a young lass, same age as you, oh what fine hillocks these were. Was I proud! I would have shown me tits to the vicar if only he'd asked," she chuckled.

"And the drawers?"

With a wry smile Meg untied and then slipped out of the drawers. Hands on hips, she stood before the young man entirely naked. She was more fleshy than shapely, a great mound of a woman. Lewis eyed the thick triangle of hair that covered her sex and extended part way to her navel. It was scarcely different in color or texture from that which covered her head.

Lewis' manhood began to stir. He realized that what had happened earlier in the day had not had this effect. His observation of cousin Julia's nudity had delighted his aesthetic sense, but had scarcely aroused lustful thoughts at all.

"Now turn around," he said quietly.

Meg turned her back to Lewis, showing her wide hips and enormous pillow-like buttocks, each pressing against the other so that her cleavage there was a mere slit.

"Bend forward, please Meg."

The woman did so, revealing to Lewis for the second time that day a woman's nether lips from behind. Meg looked back at the young man and said with a grin, "Will ye be wantin' to look straight up me twat, laddie?"

"No, I don't think so. But may I kiss your ass?"

"If you like. That's Mayor Hibbard's favorite sport; you might as well pucker up too."

Meg stepped backwards as Lewis rose and sat on the edge of the bed. Now her immense derriere filled his view as he planted kisses on the expanse of woman's flesh before him. At the same time he let his hands roam over the lower part of her supple buns, pausing now and then to squeeze them. He then moved his hands down to caress her thighs.

Only now did the young man admit to himself the obvious: he had come here to do to the whore what he could not do to the virgin. Lewis felt a shudder; his mind was of two opposite factions.

He had always admired Julia Bannister as a true lady, and sincerely wanted to respect her as such. Yet today he had seen her luscious body, as well as passion burning in her eyes. There could be no question. Julia was not some ethereal Venus, but a sensual creature, possessed of the same desires as any woman. This thought proved so discomfiting that Lewis quickly drove it from his mind.

The sensation of his lips gliding across Meg's wide buttocks, even to and within her cleavage, brought his cock to full stiffness. He murmured, "I think I'm ready for you now, Meg."

Meg put back on her camisole, uncomfortable at being nude in the presence of a man. She mounted the bed and got on her knees, resting on her elbows. She spread her legs and lowered her back so as to present her cunt to the young man.

Lewis in the meantime had removed his drawers. Now in his undervest only, he refilled his glass of port and moved into position behind the woman. In her current pose, Meg's hips and buttocks seemed as big as a mountain to Lewis.

Holding the port in one hand and his manhood in the other, he found Meg's wide portal, which was slack after years of steady use. He slowly thrust into her cunt, finding it as always warm and inviting.

For Lewis, Meg's cunt was as familiar and comfortable as an old shoe. He was pleased that, despite her years as a whore, Meg's sheath could close around his cock in such a snug fashion, a perfect fit.

A moment passed in silence as he held his wine glass in one hand and her left buttock with the other, gliding his cock slowly back and forth in the woman's cunt. He paused occasionally to take a sip of port.

"So, laddie, how's yer mother?" came Meg's voice from below. "Is her pleurisy any better?"

"Yes, thanks. She always does better in the summer, warm weather and all that." Lewis paused, gave Meg another deep thrust or two, and then went on. "What do you hear from your sister Cate?"

"Ah, the dearie still goes through money like a drunken sailor. She'd never be able to feed her little ones, did I not send her something now and then."

For a while Lewis sipped port and casually fucked the woman, during which time they continued a desultory exchange about their relatives, his studies at Yale, and even the weather.




Are You Decent, My Dear?



But an evil, seductive thought gradually began to dance around the edge of Lewis' mind. He tried to resist, but eventually it bloomed: this creature before me could be Julia. She too has a cunt; I know because I've seen it. Lovely and pure she may be, but Julia's body could give a man the same pleasure as Meg's. And it would be utterly divine to mount my cousin!

The thought was mortifying. At long last Lewis felt genuine shame, even disgrace. I cannot think of Julia this way, he said to himself. I cannot! But he did.

The idea was as well electrifying. Lewis had thought his cock to be hard, but the mental image of Julia on her knees, offering herself in such an unladylike fashion, caused his manhood to swell into a raging beast. Tossing his wine glass onto the bed, he began to drive into Meg like an animal in heat. One brutish thrust followed another as he tried to bury himself ever deeper in the woman's cunt.

Within moments Lewis felt an ecstatic rush as he reached orgasm, crying out, "Ah yess!" as a great flood of semen gushed out of him. His climax seemed to go on and on, as if he were imparting some essence of himself, an offering to whatever spirit ruled the animal nature of a man. 

Eventually he was drained, still gasping for breath. But even now he could not abandon the sheath that so warmly held him. He leaned forward, sliding his hands under Meg's camisole and cupping her great loose breasts in his hands.

"Not yet, darling Julia," he whispered, as in a trance, "not yet. I want more of you, my pet, all of you!"

Like a man possessed, Lewis continued to pound into Meg, subjecting her to powerful thrusts that revived his flagging cock and again gave him the rapture he craved. Now he was utterly under the spell that had come over him; taking a man's pleasure with the virgin Julia.

He held Meg in a fierce grip. "Ah, savor the cock, Julia my love. Does is not satisfy! Your delicious cunt is pure heaven, my darling! How perfect we are together!"

All too soon Lewis felt again the rush of semen that sent chills of electricity throughout him. So enthralled was he that his second orgasm seemed no less sublime than the first. For a long time he held Meg, relishing every moment of this bliss.

Breathing hard and now covered with oily sweat, he finally released the whore and sank back upon the bed. Meg rose and turned around. Still on her knees, semen oozing down her legs, she gave him an amused look.

"Well laddie, ye got yer money's worth of pussy tonight. And ye called me Julia!"

At last coming to his senses, Lewis murmured, "Oh my God, I did, didn't I? I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry, Meg old girl. Truly sorry."

The woman chuckled, leaning forward to tousle his sand-colored hair. "Ah, never ye mind. Ye've always been an excitable laddie. Tain't the first time I've been called another name. One of me whoremasters, as soon as he buries his cock in me, starts calling me Mother. Fancy that."

Meg got off the bed and began to cleanse his semen from her thighs and cunt, as nonchalantly as if she were washing her hands for dinner. Glancing to Lewis, she smiled as she said, "And all that from just seeing yer sweet angel's bum. Hate to think what might happen if she spread her legs and gave ye a good look at her royal puss!"

Lewis' embarrassment over his behavior now flared as anger. "Meg, no! Don't you dare say anything disrespectful about Julia! I will not stand for it!"

"Ah laddie, but yer're the one wha .."

"No, no! I just lost control, that's all! But I can't!" He grabbed the bottle of port and filled his glass, draining half in one swallow. "Julia Bannister is everything that is pure and noble about this world. I must not think of her any other way!"

"Remind me, is this delicate flower blood kin to you?"

"No, we're only related through marriage. I must treat Julia with respect and dignity, and I want to. But oh, Meg, if you could see her! Her face, her body, she's a vision! I guess I've always had feelings for her. Only today have I realized it. And to think she'll probably never speak to me again."

Meg sat back down on the bed, patting him on the thigh. "Seems to me yer're over head and ears in love, laddie, that's for sure. So what are ye goin' to do about it?" 

Lewis drained the last of his port. "I have no idea," he murmured.

*******

It seemed so innocuous at the time. Lewis had entered Julia's bedchamber in the spirit of wanting only to admire a wonder of nature, as one might enjoy a glorious sunset or a meadow of flowers. Or in this case, a young woman's nude figure.

But the effects of that rash act continued to ripple through his life. He was now a pariah to his relatives. At least once a day, his mother Wilma would launch into a tirade about how shamefully he had behaved, his worst offense being that his action reflected badly on her. "You're just like your late father Raymond!" she declared, which for Wilma was the ultimate condemnation.

At first Lewis was unrepentant; for him it was water off a duck's back. But as time passed, Lewis' attitude changed entirely. The thought of what he had done gradually became intolerable, like a delicious apple that slowly but surely turns overripe and distasteful. Eventually the memory of it brought a deep sigh of regret. 

His first thought each morning, his last thought every night, was of the lovely Julia Bannister. He was haunted by what he had realized, all too late, about his feelings toward her. At last the young man understood how little had been gained and how much had been lost on that June evening at Greenleaf.

On a cool afternoon in September, with clouds gathering in the west and the first rumbles of thunder, Lewis took a hansom cab to the two-story brick residence of Mrs. Alice Bannister and her only daughter Julia. Dressed in a blue worsted serge suit and ascot tie, he rang the heavy brass knocker on their front door. When a maid answered, Lewis gave his name and requested an audience with the lady of the house. He was shown to the parlor and told to wait for Mrs. Bannister.

That august lady shortly entered. Alice Bannister was wearing a dark silk day dress, all poufs and pleats and gathers, that covered her from neck to ankle. As this was a formal visit, the maid had not taken Lewis' derby hat; he held it behind him. 

Mrs. Bannister gazed at him imperiously, saying in a cold voice, "Lewis, I cannot imagine why you came here. As you were not invited and sent me no note requesting an audience, I must ask you to leave at once."

The young man took a deep breath. "Mrs. Bannister, I beg you humbly for a few minutes of your time. It means so very much to me."

"Very well. Out of respect for your poor mother Wilma, you may speak your piece. But I can assure you, young man, that mere words cannot set right your outrageous behavior at Uncle Jesse's."

"Yes Madam. I just want to say that ..."

Waving her fan solemnly, Mrs. Bannister continued to lecture. "My Julia has not been the same since then, Lewis. In a constant state of nerves, that girl. Thank goodness only a few of us know the details of the scandal. May I assume that you have had the grace to keep silent about your shameful conduct?"

"Yes, Madam, of course."

Perhaps there are no accidents in life. Perhaps fate or synchronicity, as much as our will, decides our future. Now began to unfold a concatenation of little events, remarkable in their timing and sequence, that would change lives entirely. The first of these was that the sprinkle of rain outside without warning became a heavy deluge. Both the young man and the old dame paused to glance outside at the sheets of driving rain. Mrs. Bannister then turned her pale blue eyes back to Lewis to resume her sermon.

"You must know that you will never be ..."

Then came a horrendous racket from the back of the house. The clattering of metal on a tile floor could be heard, as well as the piercing sound of shattering glass and porcelain.

"Oh my word!" cried Mrs. Bannister. "If that silly goose Evelyn has broken my tea set .." She turned to the young man and said, "Lewis, I must go see what disaster my maidservant has visited on me. Let yourself out at once, sir. And never darken our door again! Goodbye!"

With that she drew up her silks and hurried off to the kitchen. Heaving a sigh, Lewis walked from the parlor to the front hallway. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, he glanced at the carpeted stairway leading upward. It slyly beckoned to him: this way leads to Julia's chambers; perhaps to the girl herself. 

Once more displaying the impetuous nature that got him in trouble in the first place, Lewis dashed upstairs without a thought. He felt only the desire to look upon the face of she who now beguiled his every waking hour.

The upstairs was silent. Several doors were closed, however Lewis came to a room with the door slightly ajar. Taking this as an omen, he entered and saw that it was Julia's bedchamber. To the left of the entrance was a mahogany armoire, to the right was the girl's brass bed.

Lewis looked around, savoring the view and aromas of this, Julia's private sanctum. His eyes roamed over the floral print wallpaper; to the window opposite with lace ecru curtains. Beside it stood a writing desk on tulip legs. To the right of the bed was Julia's dressing table: on its surface sat perfumes and powders with which the creature made herself even more enchanting. His reverie was suddenly interrupted by footsteps at the door. 

"Lewis?" cried Julia as she entered. "Oh good heavens, not again! Have you no shame! Must I look for you hiding under my bed every time I need to change clothing!"

The girl was wearing a wide-brim straw hat with a green silk band, but had been caught in the rainstorm without her umbrella. Her floral print walking dress was drenched and plastered to her body. She was soaked to the skin.

Even in her disheveled state, Lewis thought her a vision. After a little space of silence, he said, "Julia, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to see you again."

Her eyes now flashed with anger. "Oh sir, I think you've seen quite enough of me already! Far too much! How on earth did you get up here? Does Mother know?"

"No. I came to visit; to apologize to her and to you. But she was called to the kitchen. She thinks I left the house."

"Which I advise you to do now! That dreadful storm caught me in the back of the garden and left me drenched. I must get out of these wet clothes at once."

"May I be of assistance?" Lewis blurted, all thought driven from his mind at once again being in Julia's presence.

The girl gasped in shock. "Ooh, Lewis, you are incorrigible! Just go, sir!"

Thoroughly abashed and defeated, the young man bowed his head and made for the door. Just as he reached it, he heard from behind him, "Lewis, perhaps you might .. might undo the buttons on the back of my dress. They can be so difficult. But close the door first."

Lewis closed the door, turned, and stepped back to Julia. Her eyes were brighter than their wont as she gazed at him. They revealed nervousness mixed perhaps with a certain yearning. She turned around, removed her hat, and lowered her head slightly, awaiting the young man's touch. 

Now the air in the room seemed to crackle with tension no less than in the tempest raging outside. As Lewis touched the first of her bone buttons, he reveled in an enchanting blend of fragrances: wet silk and cotton, Julia's lilac sachet, perhaps the scent of her woman's body as well. 

Starting with the standup collar, he slowly unbuttoned the bodice of Julia's dress. As he did so, he began the speech he had prepared for her mother. 

"Julia," he spoke, his voice just above a whisper, "since Mother married your Uncle Frederick, I've come to enjoy so much those family gatherings with the Bannisters and Garrisons. And this summer I realized that what I enjoyed most was .. was you."

"I?"

"Yes. Your smile, your quick wit, the sound of your laughter, which was music to my ears. I treasured those little moments with you, singing together at the piano or lifting a wassail toast. Only after what happened in June, and I saw you no more, did I fully realize just how much you had come to mean to me."

By now Lewis had completely undone Julia's bodice. He waited for an order to leave the room. Instead she murmured, "There's a clothes rack in my armoire. Unfold it so I can hang these wet clothes on it."

The young man retrieved and set up the rack as Julia undid the clasps holding the bodice to her skirt. Without a word she let the skirt and bodice fall, then handed them to Lewis to drape across the clothes rack to dry.

Lewis came to her again, once more awaiting words of dismissal. Instead Julia gazed intently at him, now beginning to breathe hard. Lewis then realized that it was she who awaited. With trembling hands he undid the ties to her outer petticoat, which then fell to the floor. She stepped out of it; he hung the petticoat to dry. 

Afraid that at any second the spell might be broken, he began to untie the ribbon waistband to her linen corset cover. The girl was visibly trembling by now, yet obediently raised her arms to allow Lewis to pull the corset cover over her head and off. He continued to speak. 

"Julia, when I saw you in the bedroom at Uncle Jesse's, your beauty clouded my good sense. But now I know that you mean far more to me than ever I realized. I've never been so fond of any woman as you. I think of you constantly. I've missed you so much. I .. I humbly beg you to grant me the pleasure of your company."

As he finished his plea, he undid the ties to Julia's under petticoat. As that garment fell to the floor, Julia, with arms crossed, spoke in a low voice. 

"Lewis Wellman, are you making love to me?"

The young man blinked and said, "Why, I guess I am. I hadn't thought of it that way, but I seem to be doing so." Now Lewis began to understand. This was not merely a young man kindly helping a lady out of her wet clothes. Something else was going on as well.

He stepped back, viewing Julia in her most intimate underthings. By now she was clad only in her corset, knee-length chemise, drawers, and silk stockings. He came to her again and began to undo the front clasps of her white sateen corset.

It occurred to Lewis that scarcely any married woman in all Rochester would allow her husband the bold liberty of undressing her. Yet he had been granted that very honor by the one woman whose beauty and charm captivated him, whose amity he now deemed priceless. What magic spell has wrought this, he wondered.

The girl's great blue eyes now gleaming, she said in a trembling voice, "Lewis, sometimes I think you are a fiend. The devil incarnate!"

Lewis gave her a puzzled look. "But I could not resist looking upon you that day, Julia. I so want to tender my apology."

"It isn't just that. Shall I tell you what I dare tell no one, not even Mother? That since that day, whenever I am undressing for bed, I imagine that you are watching me, Lewis. Saying those things you said at Uncle Jesse's as I bare myself! And oh it pleases, even excites me! The thought of you gazing upon me, it gives me warm sensations in places I dare not mention. I try to resist thinking of it, but I cannot!" 

Now the girl's voice was tinged with anguish. "There's more. Do you know what I dream at night?"

"I cannot imagine."

"I have this dream where the families are gathered in Uncle Jesse's parlor. I walk in completely naked and take a place on the settee, hoping no one will notice that I have nothing on! I wake up mortified, with that same warm feeling in my body. Sometimes when I'm drifting off to sleep, I find myself wishing I may have that dream again, Lewis! I feel such a shameless hussy! And it's all your fault! I'm a nervous wreck and can tell no one why!"

In response, Lewis undid the last clasp of Julia's corset and drew it away from her, adding it to the clothing on the rack. The girl gave a gasp, a faint "oh!" as he quickly drew the knee-length white linen chemise up and over her head. 

Now she was nude from the waist up. After clutching her bosom for a few seconds, she let her hands fall away and looked into Lewis' eyes, her face now crimson. He gazed in awe at Julia Bannister's bare breasts.

Her bosom was not so large, yet it was perfectly formed. The girl's pear-shaped mounds were crowned with swollen pink areolae and only a hint of the nipples that would one day suckle an infant.

It occurred to Lewis that when a woman has bared herself to a man for the first time, that man must choose his words ever so carefully, down to the inflection in his voice.

"Julia," he whispered reverently, "you are divine. I never imagined anything so lovely as you could exist."

"Are they as lovely as what I show the world?" she asked, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Yes. You are Aphrodite in the flesh. Truly an angel!"

Now the girl turned her back to Lewis. He knew what to do. Stepping to her, he untied the stays to her drawers and drew them down. As she stepped out of them, he once more gazed upon her magnificent derriere. The girl then took another deep breath and turned to reveal to Lewis a vision. Julia Bannister was now nude except for white silk stockings that extended to just below her knees.

Lewis let his eyes wander over feminine perfection. This view of the fully nude Julia was a transcendent experience, inspiring both awe and carnal desire in equal amounts. Her thatch of ginger-hued pubic hair formed a rich luxuriant triangle where her alabaster legs joined her torso. Julia's body glistened from the moisture that even now covered her flesh.

Lewis took a cotton towel from the girl's washstand. "You are damp from the rain," he murmured, struggling to speak. "May I?"

"If you would be so kind."

He began to blot the moisture from her shoulders and back, roaming from there to more fascinating regions of her body. Julia in turn stood with her hands clasped in front of her, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Her eyes were partly closed.

When he had finished, the girl opened her eyes, now breathing hard and trembling more than ever.

"You are cold." Lewis remarked.

"Ye .. yes," she murmured, "quite."

"May I .. may I perhaps hold you? Only to help warm you of course." They gazed spellbound into each other's eyes. Each now ached to be in the arms of the other, yet neither dared admit it.

"Yes," Julia whispered, her voice tremulous. "That would surely warm me."  

Now again certain that it was a dream, that he would soon awaken in his back porch hammock, Lewis embraced the nude girl. She in turn put her arms around his waist.

Julia was almost as tall as Lewis, so that their eyes were now inches apart. He felt himself falling into her deep blue pools. As well, the faint scent of the girl's body left him more certain than ever that these delectations must not be real but rather a product of his feverish imagination.

Both sensed what must happen now. "Julia," he murmured, "may I have the pleasure?"

The girl swallowed. "Yes .. if you insist."

Now their lips came together, lightly at first, barely touching; then, more firmly as their bodies joined. Lewis' wayward hands roamed down and glided over Julia's buttocks, savoring the ineluctable silkiness of her fleshy mounds. He marveled at the many ways a woman's derriere could delight a man.

For long moments the young man and woman kissed, reveling in pleasures that up to this point in their lives they had never tasted. They would temporarily pull away to kiss a cheek or neck, but always returned to the rapture of lips firmly pressed against lips.

Finally Julia drew back slightly to look at him, her eyes dancing with excitement. The woman's forehead was damp with perspiration, her cheeks crimson. Now the true Julia was revealed: beneath her demure façade beat the heart of a woman of the most intense emotions; the most fiery passions.




Are You Decent, My Dear?



Once more the young man was in awe. He realized that this look of wanton desire on the face of the virgin was far more wonderful than any part of her body she had revealed.

"Oh Lewis," she murmured, "you are surely a fiend!"

"Am I still?"

"Yes. You have utterly seduced me! I am yours! If you wanted to .. to lay me on that bed I could not gainsay!" 

"And if I wanted to spread your thighs?"

"They would yield at once. I am truly awful!"

"And if I wanted to take a man's pleasure with you!"

"I would be your willing vessel! I would only pray you be gentle as you ease this sweet burning I have for you!"

Lewis lowered his voice. "Then it must be, darling. I must have you."

"Here .. now?" she asked with a mixture of excitement and fear.

"No, but soon. On the night after I have slipped a ring on your finger, my love."

Julia's eyes grew wide as she grasped the young man's meaning. "Oh yes, Lewis!" she cried. "I can deny you no part of me, not even my hand!" This covenant between man and woman, made in the heat of passion but destined to last a lifetime, was now sealed with a fervent kiss. 

That kiss, however, was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Julia, pet," called out her mother, "are you in there?"

The lovers now froze, their eyes wide with fright. Just as the doorknob began to turn, the girl cried out, "Yes, Mother, I'm here."

"Are you decent, my dear?"

Both now held their breath. If Mrs. Bannister opens that door, Lewis thought, she'll see her daughter stark naked, in the arms of a man that she loathes. She will not consider that decent at all. Which way will she drop as she faints? 

Julia swallowed, saying, "No mother, I'm not decent." She gave Lewis a smirk as he grinned and shook his head in agreement. She then went on, "Can you wait a few minutes until I'm proper? I was caught in the rain and am changing into dry things."

"That's fine, dear. I'll have some tea waiting for you downstairs." After a pause the woman said, "That awful Lewis Wellman came to visit just before the storm, Julia. But I wasted no time sending him on his way. I'm sure we'll never again be bothered by that odious young man!"

Julia smiled at Lewis. In a whisper she said, "Will I ever again be bothered by you?"

"Darling, I want to spend the rest of my life bothering you."

She gave him a quick kiss. "You very well may, sir, as you're off to a good start. Shall we join Mother in tea? I suppose I should put on some clothing."

"It is customary. There's going to be a terrible rumpus when she sees us together, Julia."

The girl stepped to her armoire and drew out the very pink drawers with which she had covered herself on that fateful June evening. She removed her stockings and pulled the drawers up over her hips, saying, "Lewis, you will soon learn that Mother in seldom happier than when pitching a tantrum. You may, however, have to endure a hard slap."

Lewis smiled. "It would not be the first time I have felt a Bannister woman's wrath."

Julia returned his smile, now drawing a pale linen chemise over her head and down. As she tied it by the pink ribbons at the top, she said, "And if she sends for Uncle Jesse to bring his riding crop?"

"I will merely say, Lay into me, sir, as you wish! And with each whack I will recall a kiss from your lips."



Are You Down?



One of these days, I want us to be so raw and primal with each other, acting on every impulse, not censoring ourselves at all. We both unleash every destructive, raunchy impulse we have on each other. We hit each other and fuck with aggression and intensity, piss on each other, say everything, do everything. We agree to let the other indulge every lewd, obscene thought and action they want to do, whatever it may be. There are no manners, no courtesies, no rules. It's just a big, fucked up sexual free-for-all. We indulge the other in everything. Consider it our initiation: I want to see how down with me you really are, and I want you to see how down I am with you. You've always known that I will go farther than any woman you will ever know and now I want to see if you will go that same distance with me. I know you call me your raunchy whore, and I am, but we haven't even scratched the surface yet.

We rent a room in a dive motel, just like that one we used to go to, and enter it knowing that we are about to cross every line there is. We plan to destroy the shitty little room by pissing and fucking and cumming everywhere. We have every prop, tool and toy imaginable: a ski mask, rubber gloves, lube, towels, white socks, vibrators, cucumbers, poppers, a plaid skirt, blindfolds, handcuffs, candles, anything we want that we can get our hands on.

We get fucked up on alcohol or X and leave a big pile of nasty, cum-filled rubbers in the middle of the bed for the maid to find. The cheap cotton sheets are totally rank from our sweat and piss and cum. Our bodies are drenched with each other's secretions and juices. We fuck unbelievably hard and laugh and drink way too much and keep fucking hard until we literally pass out. We fuck when we are tired and I'm in pain, my cunt and cervix raw from all the fucking, and you can barely get it up because you've already cum so many times. We fuck each other harder than we've ever fucked anybody in our lives. In this room, you are everything I have ever wanted to do and I am everything you have ever wanted to do. You pin me to the bed, spread my legs and fuck me with me a beer bottle. You watch my hips bounce up and down, fucking the bottle shoved up my cunt. When you're done shoving it in and out my cunt, you push the wet, sticky bottle up my tight, puckered asshole. You watch it disappear all the way up inside me, watching how my small hole stretches to fit it all in. You fuck my ass with the bottle until I start to fuck it back, banging my ass against your hand, trying to make it go even deeper.

You pull the bottle out and piss in it, pouring some of it on my face. I get out from under you and push you on to your stomach. I spread your ass open and pour the rest of it out all over your asshole, drinking and sucking all of your piss off your tight, virgin hole. You open your legs a little wider, sticking your ass up in the air for me. I tongue fuck your ass and then show you what it's like to get a nice, wet, ass fuck, pushing my cum-coated fingers inside you, pumping your asshole and fucking you like a bitch. Your face is contorted in pain and you're pleading with me to please squirt some lube. Your beautiful brown eyes are filling with tears, so I pull my fingers out of your rectum, thickly coat them with numbing lube and then jam them back inside. Your squirming from the pain until I remind you to relax and just let yourself get fucked. I tell you how good it feels to get your ass pumped if you just let yourself enjoy it. This calms you down and I feel your tight hole relax and expand to fit my fingers. I fuck you like this until you can't take it anymore. You roll over and jerk off while watching me stick that nasty beer bottle down my throat, sucking all of our cum and piss and shit off of it.

You have me get on my hands and knees and lick your cum up off the dirty floor as you shoot your load on the carpet in front of me. You tell me to get back up on the bed and spread my legs for you. You cover my cunt with your mouth wide open, knowing that in seconds you'll be tasting my hot piss shooting down your throat. You drink my piss as it flows out of me, rubbing your face against my cunt, letting my piss drip over your full lips and unshaven cheeks. I taste and suck and kiss and fuck every part of your body and you do the same to me. We smear food and booze and cum all over each other and lick it off. You could do anything and everything you wanted to do to me-and I could do the same to you... Now that we have shown that we are definitely down with each other, we decide to take it outside--to see how much shit we can fuck up without getting arrested. We fuck and suck each other behind cars, in dressing rooms, in restaurant bathrooms, in dark corners in bars.

We try to make as many people witness our depravity as possible without getting tagged by cops. Every word out of our mouths is pornographic and disgusting. We laugh at our perversity and get off on shattering every fear, every insecurity and every taboo. We do as many drugs as we can find, drink as much as we can, and let everything twisted and bizarre come out in front of each other. Every person we pass on the street becomes the topic of our "how would rape them?" conversation. We imagine the ways we would molest the kids we see, the ways we would degrade and humiliate the employees of every business we enter. We make blatant sexual passes at waitresses and bartenders, inviting total strangers to come watch us fuck or let us fuck them. I give you the gift of absolute freedom and you give it to me, both of us wanting the other to have that feeling at least once in their life.

Every raunchy impulse is explored, shared and encouraged. We laugh at the depths of our depravity and sleep very, very deeply that night.



Are You Finished With Me?



Adrienne is so unlike my wife; she isn't a slick model type. She has an earthy farm-look, large boobs and a low hanging ass. I found her look so sensual, and was frightened because I have fantasized fucking her. Oh, did I forget to mention that I had never cheated.

We were four couples playing tennis at our friend's home. During the game, Adrienne went to her house to fix lunch. She returned and asked if one of us would be willing to help her prepare potato salad and burgers. Neither my wife nor the other two women volunteered. Adrienne's husband said, "Why don't you go, Phil, you don't like sports anyway." I was the nerd of the group.

As I walked toward her, tennis wasn't important. I know she has long nipples because I've seen her without a bra more than once. Oh, I forgot, Adrienne wears glasses. But instead of turning me off, I saw a very sexual chick under those glasses. Her sexuality moved me to become stupidly and crazily irrational. 

As I almost caught up to her, I ogled her body from the rear and joked. "Great view from back here."

She had on a short tennis skirt, and her panties were visible from my angle. She laughed and replied. "I take it as a compliment that you'd even glance at my butt. Compared to your wife, us gals feel neglected when she's around."

I said. "She doesn't have a personality like you, Addi." She is called Addi for short instead of Adrienne.

She again laughed and wiggled her butt playfully. "Is that what you're looking at, my personality?" She stopped and lifted the back of her tennis skirt to show me her white panties. "What part of my split personality do you like most? My right cheek which is the good gal, or my left cheek which is the naughty gal?" She wiggled her ass cheeks as she said this in a playful tone. 

I said. "I'd have to test them out first, like kiss and lick and bite each one." This was so unlike me to make sexual overtones. I'm not a lady's man. Unfortunately, never have been. Nerd is more like it.

She gave off a guttural laugh. "A real ass man. Wow! Well, I like the kissing and licking part, but no biting please. Is that what you do to your wife, is it?"

She stopped and waited until I caught up to her, and we walked back together. We chatted and she joked about her butt hanging too low and her boobs being too big. Then she joked. "I know I shouldn't say it but you got me started, Phil. So, since you're an ass man, what are you, let me guess, ah, ah, you're a lickety-split." 

When my facial expression told her that I didn't have a clue what she was alluding to, she said. "You don't know what lickety-split is. My, my Phil." And she let it go at that.

I said. "Let me think about it."

Addi laughed heartedly at my expense. She said. "Nothing to think about. Split and lick."

When I didn't respond, she said. "Phil, get your head out of the computer. We're talking about my butt. Two ass cheeks right. Split them. Like spread them apart and then get your nose and tongue in there and lick. Lickety-split! And yummy, yummy!" She yelped in glee.

I blushed and she saw it. She said, "My God, Phil, you are different, but in an interesting way." And she laughed a pleasant laugh to herself.

I said. "Okay. I knew that. Just didn't know the name for it." 

Then to not come across too nerdy, I added. "You know that you're not fat. Your butt and boobs are firm." 

She countered. "Glad you noticed, you dirty old man. But all the women's magazines say you guys like the model look, like your wife."

Their home is well over 100 yards from the tennis courts and at a steep incline, meaning it stands well above the courts and looks down at them. 

Addi went to her bedroom and returned after having removed her sports bra that was needed to support her tits when she played tennis. She did not have a bra on under her blouse. Her nipples were plainly visible, the dark aureoles and pointy nipples made my blood rush. 

Back in the kitchen, she gave me a large fruit plate to bring to the tennis court so the others could nibble until lunch. At the tennis court I used the bathroom and found that my dick was very hard as I pissed up in the air. I was fully aroused by Addi. In six years of marriage, I had never lusted for another woman. I was getting turned on to a woman who wore glasses!

At the tennis court, I bade the others goodbye and told them lunch would be ready in about an hour and a half. 

I was ignored. 

Addi's husband said., "'Sounds good, Phil. Should have worked up an appetite by then." He went back to the game, and had no idea that I lusted after his wife.

In the kitchen, Addi was at the sink, where a large window overlooked the tennis court. She said, "Your wife is gorgeous. My husband and those other two can't get enough of looking at her. Just look at them, Phil. Truthfully, don't you get jealous?"

I joked. "All guys look. Take me. I'm enchanted by your personality, Addi."

She laughed, said, "You keep your nose out of my butt." 

She paused then said. "Can I ask you something?" 

When I nodded yes she said. "Phil, I hate to say this but I bet all three guys down there, including my respectable husband, are sexually inflated if you catch my drift. Does that not bother you?" 

I blushed. 

She said. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have thought of your feelings. I mean, I guess, I'm jealous. That is what I'm getting at. I'm jealous."

I said. "No offense taken. If your husband is ah, inflated looking at my wife, then I'm inflated looking at his wife."

I blushed when I realized that I was telling her that I had a raging hard-on from being with her. 

Then I stupidly looked down to the bulge in my tennis shorts.

She followed my glaze and obviously saw my hardness straining to bust out of my tennis shorts.

She said. "Oh, my. Too much tit and ass talk. Anyway enough joking around. I better go put on a bra. You are getting naughty. What's come over you, Phil?" 

I said. "I shouldn't stare. I apologize." 

Luckily she didn't leave the kitchen. Addi said, "No, I apologize. Didn't mean to embarrass you. You're so different than my husband and most other men. I find that refreshing."

I was stunned into silence by her remark. That she found my having a hardon was refreshing, and that she wasn't put off. 

She said, "I take it as a compliment. I really do, Phil."

I said nothing and was still totally nervous as what to do since I never came on to a woman strongly. 

She added, "I hate to admit it, Phil, but it has been a long time since I got a guy aroused. I mean I know we are both married, but 

I sat down, then said, "Addi, why are you jealous of my wife?" 

She turned, looked at me. "I guess plain old envy. She's pretty. Men drool over her. She got a body, why not!"

When I said nothing, she said, "Well, no matter. I should I put a bra on if it's bothering you, which I take as a compliment. At least I turn on someone."

I wailed in utter sincerity. "Wait. Not yet. "

She leaned back against the sink and laughed at my plea. She looked at me credulously, wondering what I was thinking.

I said. "I feel a little stupid not knowing about lickety-split. You must think I'm without a clue sexually."

Addi said. "Phil, most guys like to have it done to them but don't like returning the favor."

When I didn't respond, she asked. "What are you thinking so hard about?"

I said matter of fact. "Want to know one of our marriage secrets. Actually, I've done it to my wife. Licked her there. It wasn't intentional."

Addi again gave off a guttural laugh. "Oh my, there you go again. Now explain that to me if you can or want to. I mean this I'd like to hear, and I promise I won't say a word to your wife."

I thought before I spoke. "Well, you know I knew what I was doing. I mean I was kissing her crotch. You know, her ..."

Addi giggled at me. "I know what a cunt is, thank you, Phil."

I went on. "And I got into it, and licked lower and higher and soon I was licking her ass hole and she didn't object. I licked her there many times, especially when we first got married. Just didn't know the name for it. But you know, when I first did it, I just happened to do it. I didn't plan it is what I'm saying." 

"Lucky gal, your wife. Now I'm more envious of her." 

I said nothing except stare at her face and boobs and legs.

She said. "One more question, than I'll shut up. I know it's none of my business but since we got on the topic of butts, I figure your wife enjoyed it, but did you."

I said. "Yeah. Sure."

"You answered too fast." She asked. "Did you really enjoy doing it or did you do it to please her?"

I thought for a minute. Adjusted my hardon in my pants, knowing that Addi could see what I was doing. Then I said. "The first time, afterwards, I felt nervous that maybe I was perverted. But when she encouraged me the second and third times, I liked it. I mean I was making her cum. That I really liked. But I liked licking her cunt more. I like the cunt taste and smell better. But sometimes I noticed that she would sort of cum or juice from her ass hole when she got excited. But overall I like pussy more. I fantasize about going down on different girls..., but....."

Addi said excitedly. "Can you believe we are talking about this."

I smiled back.

She said. "What is the but?" 

I said. "Oh, well, if I tell you you'll get upset."

She smiled at me, encouragingly.

I said. "When we were walking toward your house before and I was looking at your butt, and then you lifted your skirt, and I just had a flash."

She said. "Should I be scared to ask what the flash was?"

I blushed then said. "I wasn't thinking abut your cunt then, just your butt and fantasized about kissing and licking it."

She stood up but was not disgusted by my reference. "Too much. I'm going to put a bra on, or you're going to be having an accident in your pants."

I jumped in. "Come on. Addi. What harm is there. I really like seeing you without a bra. I mean you're not naked. All I'm doing, really is......"

She playfully toyed with me. "And what is all that you are doing, Phil? You're staring at my tits."

I said timidly. "Enjoying the view. No harm. They're covered."

Addi said. "Honestly, Phil, why in God's name would you fantasize about me? Let's face it, Phil, I'm not good looking."

I muttered. "You're a turn on in a different and very nice way."

She said. "Really. Would you like to explain how my boobs are really different?"

I said. "Jeez, like your nipples seem large. That is a turn on for me anyway. And your tits look big but don't seem floppy. I mean truthfully, Addi, they don't hang or droop, I think. Tell you what, lift up your blouse so I can examine just how they hang." I laughed at my boyish attempt at humor.

She laughed with me. Said. "You're like a mischievous little puppy. If ......well, let me put it this way, if I wasn't good friends with your wife, I'd flash you right now. I'd love to see your face. But I won't."

I got excited by that. I yelped. "Show me yours, I'll show you mine."

She snorted in an unlady like fashion and then glanced at my crotch. "Oh, god, you're aroused. Really aroused. Not good. Not good." 

When she began walking away to her bedroom, I said, "Addi, you're different in ah, I don't know, like a down to earth honest way. And I like that." 

She stopped and listened. 

I continued, "I've been thinking about how you're different than the other three women, including my wife. Want to hear?"

She nodded yes and went next to the kitchen sink . 

I said, "Okay. Here goes. A guy knows you're down to earth. Like I know you smell, you have a feminine odor, you sweat. Think about it. Would I say that about the other three women?"

She seemed embarrassed.

I quickly said. "I mean that in a very complimentary way. That you sweat and have an odor. Like I can see and smell that you're a flesh and blood woman, not some deodorant. Tell me truthfully, neither my wife nor the other gals down there come across physical like you do. They are model types." I took a breath and sighed when she didn't walk away and continued. "Mostly I like your ass and how it hangs. It's cute. You got to admit you got a cute butt, Addi. And I fantasize about licking it."

She laughed. "I doubt that. Oh, bull. Double bull! But what I think is that you need to make love to you wife until you are completely satisfied. You're aroused right now and I don't know why. A horny old dog! Truthfully, I'm not a head turner, Phil. I know that for a fact."

Then she turned back to the sink and said. "And Phil, I really appreciate the compliment, I think. No one ever said that about me: I smell, have a feminine odor and what else, my tits are earthy. Was that a compliment?" 

My tone of voice changed in some way when I replied. "You know it is." 

She turned to look at my face, at my eyes. My tone of voice had caught her attention. She again glanced at my crotch. Then she quickly averted her eyes and turned back to the sink. 

I moved next to her quickly. She turned to look out the window but was keenly aware of how close I was to her. I moved my hips and my pelvis so they were pushed up against her butt. My cock was right against her soft ass cheeks.

She tried to move away but I held onto her hips and kept her in place. "Phil, what are you doing?"

I whispered. "What do you think?"

She tried to laugh but it came out choked. "You're rubbing your crotch and your, ah, your inflation, against my butt and you should be doing that with your wife, not me. That is what I think."

I joked. "You got a great, ah, personality and my cock wants to split it." And I kept my hips and cock pressed against her butt. 

She said. "Not funny. Your cock is pushing against my ass. Phil, can't you see that I'm upset? "

I moved back and forth so that my cock caressed her butt. 

She echoed. "Please Phil, think with your head, the one on your shoulders. I can feel your erection, but I can't help you in that department. Don't you want to hear why I'm upset?" 

I lamented. "You know what I want, Addi." Her short skirt made it easy for my hands to caress the bare skin of her legs. She froze when my left hand caressed her inner thigh and inched upwards. I moved my hand to her crotch and she gasped and squeezed her legs together to deny me access. I moved my pelvis in closer, pushing her against the sink cabinet. Then my right hand moved around her front and caressed her right tit though her blouse. 

She cried out. "My god, Phil. Do you realize what you're doing?" But she did not struggle very much. Sure she tried to wiggle away, but I knew she was not a real fighter and was timidly frightened by my advances. She said. "Okay, you had a real good feel. Now let me go. I'll put a bra on."

I had her pinned and she didn't struggle hard to get way as I suspected she wouldn't do. But I wasn't one hundred percent sure she would not scream so I had to soothe her fears. "Addi. Please. Let me touch you a little; then I'll stop and be a good boy."

My hand was firmly caressing her right tit through her blouse while my other hand was wedged between her tightly clamped legs. I held her steady with my pelvis and stomach and chest pressing her firmly against the kitchen sink. 

She tried to break away; this time it was a much stronger effort but it was too late unless she was willing to scream and actually fight me physically which was not part of her personality. 

I continued my psychological attack. "Addi, just a little bit more and then I'll stop. Listen, sweetie, you know you turn me on; I fanaticize about you. Masturbate thinking of you. Let me feel you a little more, please."

She screeched, but not loud enough to carry out the kitchen. "No. Stop touching me right now."

But I did not. Instead I had both my hands on her tits. I had her pinned. 

She pleaded. "You're making me real scared."

I said. "I'm not going to hurt you. You know me better than that. I just want to feel them."

She squeaked. "Sure, all you want is to feel me up. I'm married; you're married."

I held her firmly in place. "Addi, I want to caress you. What harm is there. No one will know." I moved my one hand over her whole tit and gave it a good cuddle, especially where her nipple was.

She tried to push me off using her butt, but instead I met her thrust with my own thrust of my hardened prick. She stopped that quick enough when she realized I was humping her butt. Addi said. "Phil. Don't touch my breasts. They're real sensitive. Come on, let's talk."

She had eased up on her clamped legs in order to use her hands and her butt to push me off. I took advantage of this and used my other hand to wiggle between her clamped legs and was able to get one finger at her crotch and under her panties. I felt her pussy lips and the sweat, or was it pussy arousal dampness.

Suddenly she stopped struggling. She was gasping for air, in heavy and uneven gulps. Then she slumped the top part of her body from the waist up, over the sink area and concentrated her energy to clamp her legs so tightly that it would dislodge my finger. 

All to no avail. I had a finger in her pussy. Even though I was unable to wiggle it around, it was causing her turmoil. She was trembling in a sexual, turned on way.

A good 60 seconds went by with neither of us talking. Except my hands and fingers and cock making a darn good point. 

Addi stopped struggling and said in a guttural, hoarse voice. "Phil, if I let you touch my breasts, will you take your finger out of me?"

I pushed my finger deeper in her pussy and she whispered a mournful plea. "Please. I'll let you play with them; you can suck them if you want. Okay? Just take your finger out of my cunt."

I waited because I was stunned at her response; I didn't wait as part of some strategy, but the waiting turned out in my favor. Addi had to weigh over 140 pounds yet she seemed so passive. When I took my finger from her pussy, she slumped and became putty in my hands. 

I glanced out the window to make sure all was okay at the tennis court. Everyone was engaged in their game. I was free to take my pleasure. So I eased her to the floor. She laid on her back, her eyes closed. I laid on her, my hips and cock were firmly above her crotch. Then I began to feel her up, to let my hands roam under her blouse and fondle her naked tits. I used both hands to feel her tits and play with them. Her nipples were hard and long and large. When my mouth sucked on her tit, she gasped and shuddered, but stayed still. I sucked and sucked and she was making crying moans under her breadth. Her nipples were so juicily long and very alive. She was responding to my sucking, no doubt about it. 

Of course, this would not satisfy me. In fact, it only heightened my lust to have more of her. I moved my hips off her pelvis and was able to slide my face down below her tits onto her belly when she actually sat up in a startled position. She wailed. "What are you doing?"

I had to pin her down again by laying on top of her. Then I slid my body lower until I was between her legs and was able to grab her feet by the ankles and bring her legs into the air. I bent her legs onto her belly. I said. "Addi, I'm going to do what I said I would. I'm going to lick your ass."

She was helpless. While I held her legs up, I began to lick and kiss her ankles and move lower, heading to her crotch. But once my face was in her crotch and sucking at her damp panties, she again began to protest. "No. Not there. Phil. You promised."

So I lifted her legs so that her ass was more exposed than her crotch. She stopped struggling. She 

said. "Promise me you won't bite and leave any marks."

I knew she had given in. I struggled to get the words out. "I promise." I nuzzled my face in her panties and kissed until I got tired of tasting her cotton panties. But I did not dislike the odor that was coming from her cunt. No, that odor was inflaming me to go that next evil step to hell. 




Are You Finished With Me?



She did not protest or resist as I took off her panties. I moved quickly. While still holding her legs up and spread out, I was able to get my face between her ass cheeks and began to go to town. I licked and kissed until I had my nose inside her ass hole, then I put my tongue in there and licked until she was moaning. Whether they were moans of pain or pleasure I wasn't sure. When I began to lick higher to her pussy, she didn't fight me off. She was wet, very wet. When I sucked at her clit, she was juicing her pussy juice in my mouth. I sucked her clit and then her pussy lips and got my tongue inside her pussy hole until her body was totally open. Her cunt was so very exposed. There was no pain coming from her, only sexually aroused pussy juice. As I unzipped my pants, she said nothing. I rubbed my cock between her ass cheek and tried to stick it up between he ass cheeks. 

Then she protested. "No. Not in my ass, Phil. Please. It's too big. Please." 

I said. "Put it in your cunt for me. Quick."

Amazingly, Addi reached down and guided my cock to her pussy hole and rubbed my cock tip at her pussy lips and then pushed it in. I drilled my cock deep into her pussy in one quick entry. 

She cried out. "That hurts. Do it slow, Phil. Please, don't hurt me this way. You can fuck me but don't hurt me." She stopped struggling. Said. "Do you understand, Phil. I said you can fuck me, but don't hurt me. Please. " 

I moaned. "Help me then." I let her legs go and she wrapped them around my waist as my cock began a slow, steady, in and out thrust. I felt myself building up a quick cum and slowed down. She had stopped tightening her pussy and legs muscles. I felt my cock go up to my balls in her pussy hole; I was all the way in her. I fucked her with my long cock pole, in and out, slowly. I could tell on each intake she was feeling pleasure. When I began to pound in and out, she was gasping. Sounded very much like sexual moans.

I knew that I could not prolong this fuck too long. Someone might come to the kitchen. So I pulled my cock out, and told her to knell. She did as I said, not a word of protest, no hesitation. Her ass was up in the air, her legs spread awaiting me to enter her from the rear. I didn't disappoint her. I was cock deep in her pussy when I felt her spasm, over and over. I began to pump harder and she continued to spasm. I said. "Addi, am I doing it too hard?"

She didn't answer with words, but her cunt tightened over my cock milking it. I began to cum spurt after spurt of hot cock juice deep into her pussy hole. 

It took three minutes before both our bodies subsided. When my cock fell out of her gapping pussy hole, she let out a sound that sounded like a sad moan.

She stayed in that position, her ass in the air. I stood to quickly see if there was any danger from the tennis court coming my way. All seemed okay. My wife and the other players were occupied. 

I knelt behind her and began to kiss and lick her cum filled pussy hole to her very wet ass hole. Her cunt came alive from my kisses. I said. "Addi, sit on my face with your pussy so I can lick it."

Addi dutifully moved around and sat on my face without uttering a word. After a few minutes of me slurping and drinking her cunt juices, she lowered her head and took my soft cum spent cock in her mouth and sucked and sucked until I was hard. She sucked me wantonly. In heat. In abandoned lust.

I fucked my cock in her mouth; she took it. I let go a blast of cum. She swallowed my cum. 

I moved out from under her. Used a dish rag to wash off my cock and balls and then washed off my face and mouth. She sat on the kitchen floor, her legs wrapped under her ass as she observed my tidiness, never saying a word. 

I looked out the window and saw my wife and her husband at the tennis court, totally unaware of what had transpired. All to the good, so far.

She said. "Are you finished with me?"

It was a challenge too good to pass up. I squatted down beside her. Said. "Get on your knees again." She looked at me not understanding. I said. "Just do it, Addi. I want to lick you."

Addi gave me a look of disbelief but did as I requested. I licked and kissed and sucked her cunt and ass hole until my mouth was tired. Addi openly moaned her orgasms now. No need to be quiet with me anymore. 

When I licked and sucked her cunt taste and my cock cum to my heart's content, I got up to leave. 

She looked at me with softness and said. "Better use my toothbrush to get the taste of pussy out of your mouth and take a quick shower, use soap. Wash your hair; it smells of pussy juice, too." 

I showered and brushed my teeth. When finished, I waked to the kitchen door and said, "I'm going to the tennis court. You going to be okay?" 

She said. "Phil. You just raped me. Are you forgetting that?"

I said nothing; she was still naked, sitting on the kitchen floor. I looked at her body, her tits and her belly, her shoulders, her nipples, and felt a stirring gain. 

She saw my lust. Addi said. "You're crazy, Phil. You're sexually deranged."

I then spoke. "Addi, I'm not sorry for having sex with you."

She said simply without anger. "I know you're not." Then she said. "How am I supposed to face my husband and your wife?"

I said. "Take a shower. We'll talk about it some other time." I walked out the door.

She commanded. "Phil. What are you going to tell your wife. I need to know." 

I stepped back in the kitchen. "Nothing. I never cheated, not even once. Tonight I'll be with her, but I'll think of you."

She sounded as if she was about to cry when she said. "Phil, you raped me. Oh, get out of here."

I again headed out the door.

"Phil." Addi said. "Why do you want to fuck me? I need to understand. What came over you, Phil?"

I said. "Don't know. And that is the honest truth."

She began to cry. "You got to know. You raped me. Why?"

I knelt next to her. Held m her in my arms and let her cry. Then said. "I don't know what came over me. I never hurt a fly. But it was the best sex I had in years. In years. "

She implored me. "But we're married, Phil."

I said, "You came. Can't deny it. We both did. Best ever for me."

She groaned. "Shut up."

I simply stated. "I'll want to fuck you again."

She whimpered. "I know you do. This is what's so crazy."

I said nothing.

She said. "This is a one time thing. I won't let you do it to me again."

I went to the door. Turned to look at her. "I'll rape you again. I need to have you."

Addi said. "Take that tray of potato salad, the coleslaw, and beans. Tell them the burgers will be ready in thirty minutes. I need to shower." 

I moved from the door and came close to her.

I said. "Addi, I..."

"Shut up. Just leave."

I could not leave her in this troubled condition.

I bent and kissed the back of her head. She gave off a moan.

I said. "I won't be able to stop thinking of you."

"Shut up."

I did.

Our eyes met.

She said. "I hate myself for enjoying it."

I said. "I want to be inside you again." I moved down to kiss her lips.

She moved her head slightly away, but not too much.

I gently took hold of head and turned it. When my lips met hers, she kissed me back.

It was a long kiss, a teenager in love kiss.



Are You Fishing...



Fish for a Story Idea, a Word or Literary Inspiration

I observed a friend writing. She was sitting with a small stack of papers in her lap and a pencil in her hand. She would look outward, not really looking at anything specifically but instead she was fishing for words to use that would fit into her write.

She scribbled on the paper and then looked upward as if she had just cast a thought, like casting a fishing line out in hopes of snagging a word, thought or phrase. She erased a line and replaced it with a new thought, like replacing the lure/bait with a new one. Then cast a gaze again.

I watched her fish for the words that eventually produced a very lovely and heart felt poem.

Casting thoughts~

Imagine there is a huge lake before you. A rod and reel in your hand. Throw out the line and watch it splash upon the surface of this lake. At this point you're going 'souly' on feel as you reel the line and lure in slowly. 

Hoping that it will bend over like a hooker on Friday night and dance like a belly dancer doing overtime, with a whopper of a tale on the other end. Suddenly you hear a slight swirl in the water and the lure is climbing to the tip of your rod. 

'Nothing', you didn't even get a bite. You're as disappointed as a turtle humping a hard hat. 

Do not despair; think of it as one of the one hundred throws needed to catch a great fish (story). 

Statistics show: 
Out of one hundred casts, 
an average of ten fish may be caught. 

Out of those ten fish,
one or two may be good bounty. 

Also, just as we have good days and bad days, we'll have days that are full of good story ideas (like a mass of salmon swimming up river) and other days where you can't think of a tale to save your soul. I recommend you designate a place to store your ideas like storing mounted trophy fish on the wall. 

Obviously you'll either narrow down what you'd like to catch or simply fish the big blue waters of anything to land any thing at all. Keep in mind it always comes down to the waters you fish and the lures you use. 

Tools~ 

Alacrity is a Fisherman!

In order to fish you need a rod, a reel and tackle box. Fishing for a story idea you'll need a genre, a muse and a tool to write with. You're not sure what you'll catch but the joy of fishing along with the reward of a catch just may land you a whopper of a tale. You know what they say... 

"You can't catch anything unless you cast a line." (In this case a line of thought) 

But what do you use for bait? Humorous worms on an erotic treble hook or an incest fly on a number 69 swivel-hook or maybe you're trying a new pink colored spinner with artificial intelligence. Homemade fishing lures is what I'll recommend to those fishing for stories. Tie your favorite genre feather to a reasonable size hook that fits your needs. Long, short, twisted or straight. 

Some may be lured to read, for instance; The Fisherman, Free Willy, Moby Dick, a Dictionary and Thesaurus, etc. to become inspired to write a similar tale with a special twist. I have even fished the waters of the web trying to catch a spark of an idea or a muse by reading others.

Perhaps one paragraph of the poem 'Fishing for Zen' set your line to sail, the bobber hit the water and made ripples that grew and as you reel in your line, the story unfolds. 

Chances are you're going to write within the genre that appeals to you personally. The waters that you're familiar with. I know some that will fish only with a fly rod for Trout, I know those who fish only for Bass and I know those who cast everything in their tackle box just to see what is out there. 

Go Fish ~

Gather your mental gear and imagine a drive to the lake, climb into your literary canoe and cast off. No need for a paddle because you're going to go with the flow and your hands will be busy typing or writing. Unless a paddle is your muse, if you know what I mean. 

Absorbed in the surroundings of water gently slapping the boat, the tall pines that line the shore and offer shade from the burning hot sun that has not yet shed its light on thee. The dark shadows and solitude of the thick forest reminds you of the movie; Deliverance and a shiver runs up your spine. While you swat at the mosquitoes that swarm around you. 

You'll cast your thoughts into every shadowed pool, protruding stump and moving ripple in hopes of snagging a story idea, or perhaps a word to fit in your write. You may have gotten a few nibbles so you know where you can cast again and hopefully pull in a small perched story but you're holding out for the 'bigger fish'. 

A Fish Tale ~ (a true story) 

One eyed Walter, we called him. He was a 72-pound 'Op' catfish that we ( My Father and I ) caught on the Trinity River in the early eighty's. I would suspect that leaving an invitational thread, asking for story ideas would be the same as trot line fishing. Leaving your bait out all night in hopes of having a string of 'small mouth' ideas the next day.

I remember pulling up to the trot line on the river and the water swirled as though the Lock Ness monster had just rolled under the surface causing a swell to arise. "Holy Molly Batman." I had no idea that this big fish would produce a grand tale with its huge tail. I can hardly express the anxieties that arise when you find a 72-pound catfish waiting for you to un-hook him. 

It was not just a catch, it was historic. The biggest fish tale that I could tell you or any one for the rest of my life. It was no small task wrestling with a fish as big as me, trying to get him into the boat.

Once he was in the boat he flopped around violently rocking the boat dramatically and almost rose high enough to go over the side, so I sat on him. Straddled and held it down as if I was awaiting the referee's ten count, while my father drove the boat homeward. 

It was Easter Sunday as I recall and when we got back to the house and parked the boat, I was reminded we had very little time before church started. 

A well known fact is; when you catch a large catfish they are usually full of fat and the best way to prepare the fish for meals is to allow the fish to swim around for several days, so we tied a ski rope to its bottom lip and tied him to the dock. I was delighted to see One-eyed Walter settle to the bottom of the river and swim around slowly testing the rope and then settle into the muddy bottom. 

I showered, dressed and went to church with my family. I couldn't tell you what the sermon was about but I bet you a dollar to a donut my thoughts were on that one eyed catfish. 

It had lost an eye sometime or another in its long life so we named him, One eyed Walter. (I have no idea where the name Walter came from) I suppose one of the family members cast a line of thought and that was what they had reeled in. Probably in reference to the Movie: On Golden Pond. 

After church I raced back to the house and out to the pier faster than a squirrel climbs a tree. The whole family came walking out to see what we had been bragging about all morning long. Our 72-pound catfish tied to the dock. 

Pulling Walter from the water and onto the dock was not an easy task. My Mother, Father, Wife and our 2-year-old son, were all eyes when this huge whale of a fish came out of the water and flopped on the dock. We tied Walter to a boat shed 2 x 4 cross member and raised him upward to weigh him. He was as long as I was and bigger around. His mouth was so big we could have stuck the 2-year-old into his mouth and still had room for a six-pack of 'splash' soft drinks. 

"Seventy-two pounds." 

The camera began flashing and pictures were being taken of this huge, once in a lifetime catch. I held the baby and twisted the line to make Walter turn, so that we could get his photogenic side. He didn't like this and began flopping back and forth as we took pictures of Walter the one eyed catfish. 

Now the thing I never expected was for the ski-rope to snap and break. It was old and sun rotted and even as big as the rope was it was no match for a pulling and tugging 72-pound catfish that wanted back into the water. I held the baby tightly so that he was not slapped by a tail or a fin. Walter hit the pier, flopped around a time or two, fell back into the river and swam away. The only difference in this story about the fish that got away, is that I have the pictures to prove it. 

Now you would as a writer fill pages and pages with adjectives and clichés to fill in the rest of the story. The whole idea is to catch a whopper and paint the story into a picture that lures readers to your short story with a big tale. 

Drawing Ideas~ 

Ever get the feeling that you couldn't hit water if you fell out of a boat? Or ever feel as though you couldn't draw a bath much less draw a picture? 

I could hand you a list of ideas as if I had given you a stringer of fish but that is just not the same. I have heard it said that it is better to write something you know about or something that you have experienced in order to get the full effect into a story. You have to cast your own line and reel for your own fish story. You may have to cast for days before you find the fish that you want to write about but that is all part of the enjoyment we get from writing and fishing for stories. 

Remember, the secret to telling a good fish tale is to take a minnow and make a whale out of it. Just how many times have you cast a thought out for an idea and reeled in nothing. As many times as I have I am sure. But rest assured, eventually, something will bite and a tale will unravel as you reel in an idea. 

Let's say you cast your thought line out and catch a bass and it explodes out of the water. Writing is like drawing, you doodle the fish coming out of the water. You select the patched pattern along the side of the fish that makes it unique. Draw the swirling lines to imitate the waters spraying splash. You'll have to decide what color the water is and add a background. Finishing the details until you're satisfied with what you have created. 

The obstacles that arise from drawing, writing and creating are the same as snagging your line on an under water branch or root. Or the backlash in a reel from casting. Problems and obstacles that arise in real life as well as our stories. Prevailing over these mishaps is what makes the tale. 

My Father once told me that when the line gets all tangled up, "It is much quicker and less frustrating to cut the line and restring than it is to try to unravel and figure out a mess." 

But it is the mess, in a story, that binds the characters together and unraveling the tale is like figuring out a knot. Which of course the hero or main character gets the credit for figuring out the mess, most of the time. 

You may draw from an idea or a problem, for example; You have gone to the local Fishing Store with a friend and become separated. Take this problem and expand on it. Create characters and unravel the mystery. Finding that your friend was in the change booth with a stranger having wild and passionate sex in a pair of waders. 

You may do as I do and catch several fish (ideas) and save them to eventually decide which story to elaborate on when I need a tale. Trophies on the wall. That is like having an Ace in the hole. 

Do you have an Ace? 

Go Fish!

*

(A special thanks to (LuciousBi_Writes4U) and (LeBroz) for their pre-reads, notations and repairs to this story) (~_~)



Are You For Real?



Checking my E mail yesterday I found a message from a Literotica reader, StyxVenom, asking me if I was for real. He said he enjoyed my stories but doubted them based on the difference between being dominated and enjoying cock. 

"I am in Anaheim tonight, staying at the Disney Hotel. If you're real, get back with me and I'll see if you're as good as you say you are. I am married, hate faggots but enjoy blow jobs."

I had never been contacted by another reader like this before, but thought what the heck, I'll reply. If it's anything like AOL users, the guy will be a flake anyway. I sent a reply and went back to work.

Checking my messages at lunch time I found another message to me from Styx. "Good boy. Come to building B, the 7th floor, room 721. Be here by 8:00 PM sharp."

One thing I like is being told what to do. If I'm asked, I usually don't follow through, but when I'm told I make sure I follow through. After work I showered, and drove to Disneyland, and parked at the Downtown parking lot. I made sure I was early. At 7:55, I was knocking on the door to room 721. I wasn't quite sure why I was doing this, since I didn't know a thing about Styx, but I did want to prove to him that I was real. 

Guys don't turn me on, cock does. A guy can be young (but over 21), or old, good looking or not. It doesn't matter, as long as his cock gets hard. Put a cock in my face and tell me to suck it and I'm all for it. 

When I knocked the door was partially open. I heard a deep voice inside tell me to come in and be quick about it. I walked into the room and hard a difficult time seeing anything. It was nearly pitch black. He lit a single candle and instructed me to walk over to him and drop to my knees. I did as I was told. 

"Good boy. So far you haven't disappointed me. Now, unzip and unsnap my pants and pull them down." 

I did as I was told. I still had very little idea of what this guy looked like. I could tell he was overweight, and from the bulge in his briefs, he appeared to be nicely hung, at least 6 or more inches. 

"Pull my shorts down." I did and his hardening cock hit me in the face. "Kiss it boy." I did and noticed a musky odor, not freshly washed but not much sweat either. He had probably showered about two to three hours ago. For the first time ever, I was turned on by a man's odor. 

"Worship it boy. Kiss it while I lie down on the bed, and suck it like it's the only thing in the world to you." 

My tongue started to dance around his beautiful mushroom cock head. I started bobbing my head up and down, taking in an extra inch of cock until it hit the back of my mouth. Damn... it must be at least 7 inches long. But it tasted good, clean, fresh and rock hard.

"That's it boy, suck it and watch out with your teeth, this cock has to feed my wife's pussy when I get home tomorrow, so make sure you treat it well."

I love sucking a nice cock and this was no exception. It was beautiful. I started to move faster and he told me to slow down a bit. I took one of his big, hairy balls in my mouth, licking it slowly as he began to speak.

"I've been reading Literotica for about three years now and this is the first time I've been on the road and horny. You are the first guy to suck my cock, and you're doing a damn fine job there boy. I can't believe you've only sucked a few other cocks. You don't strike me as the gay type."

I looked up at him and said, "I'm not gay. I love women and pussy, but now and then I enjoy sucking a nice cock. Your message to me surprised me, but I am glad I've come over to meet your cock, it's wonderful. I want to prove to you that I am for real."

"Good boy. Keep sucking my balls. That's one thing my wife doesn't do and it's turning me on."

I asked him if there was anything else his wife wouldn't do.

"She doesn't lick my ass, but I don't expect you to. I just want a good blow job, and you're doing just fine boy."

My lips slowly moved south of his cock, to his ass which was at the edge of the bed, and slowly I inserted my tongue into his hole, a little at a time, making sure to move it back and forth. 

"Oh god boy, that's damn good. I can't believe you're doing that. Keep it up boy. Suck my ass. I've been with whores who wouldn't lick my ass. That makes you a first class slut boy."

After a few minutes of sucking his ass I moved back to his balls, sucking one at a time, slowly, listening to his moaning. Then I kissed his cock head once again and started sucking on it. 

His moaning started to get louder and louder. He ordered me to suck harder and faster, and I did. His body started to stiffen and his cock seemed to get just a bit harder, signaling he was about to cum. I started to lift my head up and he grabbed it and forced my head back down on to his cock, blasting off in the back of my mouth, forcing me to swallow his hot, thick load. After about 6 bursts he relaxed and pulled out of my throat. 

I swallowed the final drop and noticed his cum tasted bitter, but looked up at him and told him he tasted wonderful. 

He told me to follow him into the bathroom and then ordered me to hold his cock while he took a leak. I did, a new step in my life, as the only cock I've ever held while taking a piss is mine. When he finished he didn't shake it, but ordered me to lick it clean. I looked up at him, not believing what I had heard, yet I still took his cock into my mouth, tasting a few drops of salty, disgusting urine and then licked his cock totally clean.

"You taste wonderful," I lied. 

"Good boy, you are all you said you were and more. Now get out."

I quickly dressed and left, knowing I had done as I promised.