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Tour

By: magmaman



There was a full dozen of the Shrimp on the plate the bartender brought, enough french fries to feed Debs and I and the couple with us but they had their own plates.

I would have never dreamed I would ever be in a place like this, not for eating lunch at least.

And certainly not with the wife in tow, we were guests of a couple we know from Reno, good friends. Just out for the day, having fun, enjoying getting away from the racket of the casino, and the machines that are barely more than thieves.

Cathouse, they call these places. Brothels is another term, whorehouse?

Just outside of Reno, perfectly legal.

One would think it would be seedy, the place was not. Rustic and neat as a pin, I looked at a group of women sitting over at a table not far away.

They looked like any group of women one might see in any bar, cafe, night club anywhere on earth. The only difference was the rather scanty clothing.

Even that was not outrageous, one older lady that looked to be around 50 or so had a lot of cleavage showing, another on had on an Orange T-shirt and not one thing else which I was sure of.

There was a young gal up by the bar in a bikini, and a skinny woman who got up on the stage and did a pole dance, just one.

There were also a few extremely large men around, appearing bored. All they did was sit there, one was puffing on a cigar.

Three men and a dozen women, hell, it was 2 in the afternoon and still slow I guess.

I'm Dan, the wife is Debra. Almost 70 is my age, and she is 58, back home she works as a Registered Nurse Practitioner.

Our friends were Jack and Terry, they work doing massages mostly down in Las Vegas, we had them do what they call a "tandem" in our room.

The first time was just a massage, nothing different than any massage any place on Earth.

The second one got a little bit kinky, one thing led to another and I honest to God watched as Jack had his hands first on my wife's bare boobs, then down they went to between her legs and Debs was going off at his rather expert efforts.

I might have complained but Terry had my almost 8 inches well oiled and both hands busy at the exact same moment, say what you will but it's hard to protest much in that situation.

OK. So were are married, we aren't supposed to do things like that.

Well. I am 69, Debs is 58. We both know about sex and having fun and it was sexy and we were having fun and we don't care what anyone thinks.

After Jack and Terry left we got to giggling and horsing around and we had even more fun, the truth is we are way better with each other than we are with someone else.

I also had never seen that before, I guess I probably never expected to. Watching a guy masturbate my Debs would irritate the hell out of me, probably start a fight is what I would have thought.

It didn't. Instead, it got both of us hot and anyone who saw us going at it after would have thought we were 19 years old.

I guess maybe I have my very own little quirks, I have found I enjoy the hell out of watching my wife rubbed like that, seeing her looked at naked. 

Watching her receive pleasure gives me pleasure, and the side benefit is it gets me up and going.

Why? I have no idea and I didn't even know that until it happened. There is no penetration, none at all. Just touch, stroking and petting, sheer sensations.

I asked Debs about that, she told me that is just for me and it always will be.

The rest? It's all just fine, and it also happens both ways so no harm done at all.

+++

Anyway, long story shortened up here, Jack and Terry both work at the brothel, but they aren't hookers. What they both do is massages, it seems that some men and some women want that and nothing else.

Terry told us that some men just want to be held and petted, touched. Jack said he sometimes sees women that want exactly the same. They don't even desire to climax, they want just that, touch, hugging. Others are men that come out with their wives, they sit out at the bar and sip drinks while Jack takes them to his own room. He touches them, pets them, looks at them and masturbates them.

Terry mentions one lady that brings her husband out twice a month She wants her husband jacked off, she has arthritis and doing it hurts her hands, so she has Terry take care of him.

They both claim to have never removed any of their own clothing, not for any price, and I believe them.

Jack makes the wives feel wonderful and sends them back to the hubby who takes them back home and gets laid, able to get things up and going again.

Jack told us that if we could even think of a desire, someone showed up with it.

It was interesting as hell.

"Hey, would you guys like to take a tour? The place is amazing, it's nothing at all what you might expect." He told us after we were finished with the massage in Reno.

Yes, we did that again, just like the last time. As it turns out, Jack and Terry have their own airplane, they work at many of the casinos and hotels.

Not legal of course, some of what they do but no one ever complains. Why would they, nearly everyone that ever comes to Reno or Las Vegas is looking for some action, and not just losing money either.

And out at the place several miles out of town, it is legal, and they can do just about anything they wish to.

+++

A man about 50 or so came in, he stopped and looked around. The place was dark, I noticed that when we first came in. But after a few minutes it seemed much lighter, the bar area was well lit.

I saw the man's eyes fall on my Debs, and he smiled at her. Debra saw that too, she smiled back like she would with any other person she ever saw.

The man walked over, stopped at her side. Debs was just biting into one of the dozen Shrimp on her plate.

"Would you like to talk?" He asked her. Debra looked up in surprise, then at me. Hell, it was surprise too, I didn't know what to say.

A huge man appeared by the guy's side, he reached out and took hold of his elbow.

"Come on, sir. Let me buy you a drink." He said, and the man went with him. He really didn't have a choice in that.

Terry looked like she was about to blow a gasket, she was struggling to keep from bursting out laughing.

"You just got propositioned, you could have ended up in one of the negotiation rooms." She leaned in and whispered to Debs.

"God! He thought I was a.....?" Debra's face flamed.

"Well, all of the women in here are available for anyone who wishes to ask and can pay the price. That price can get to be very high for some men, too. Their key is to smile, get a smile back and ask to talk."

"How high?" I asked. I never was good at keeping my mouth shut, and this was sort of funny.

"Sometimes two, maybe three, even four thousand dollars." Terry said.

Both of our mouths fell open. The plate of Shrimp cost us $11.99, that had surprised me, I assumed a place like this would be through the roof on cost of drinks and food, it wasn't. It was actually less than back at the casino and the food was better.

Anyone could stop in any time for lunch, maybe a beer and then leave. No one would mind, it is probably one of the relaxed atmosphere places on Earth.

"I must be in the wrong profession." I wisecracked. Then I turned to Debs.

"Say, honey? You could make back that money we lost yesterday in just one.....?" Which got me poked in the arm.

+++

After we finished eating, a lady about 40 or so came by and told us she was our tour guide. Off we went to look around. She was the one in the Orange T-shirt, clearly one of the working women.

Going up and down any steps was interesting because her bare fanny was hanging out but we got used to that. I did notice there was a thong under there now, there hadn't been earlier.

The place was amazing, a person would think they would be little bare cubicles but some of the rooms had artwork that was beautiful. Every room, every cabin was a different setting, a different mood.

The themes? Sexual, of course, yet in a discreet way, in the background.

"Some of these paintings are worth millions." She told us. I looked, and had to agree. Many of them were clearly very old, and just hanging there in cabins that clients could rent.

That would have been dangerous, I would think but then I remembered the men that were just hanging around. 

Armed, obviously. The weapons were tucked away but easy to see under the clothing. I would not want to be the individual that ever did anything out of line.

Those men did not bother with calling any police officers, none of them would ever show up anyway.

One man with arms like trash cans met my gaze, I nodded and smiled. He showed no reaction of any kind.

We stopped at one point and fed some already far too fat Koi fish in the ponds. We saw sex toys, showers and saunas, furniture the lady described graphically how it was used.

"Pussy rules here." She told us with a grin.

The entire visit was amazing. All of the buildings, equipment, everything had been brought in by helicopter years before at a cost of many millions of dollars.

It was nothing at all what one would expect.

+++

Finally the tour was over, we went back to the lounge area and sat down, the bartender brought over some drinks.

Just as I was thinking we would finish our drinks and head back to Reno, Debs excused herself and went over to talk to the tour guide lady who I now knew called herself Capri. There was some animated discussion, then Debs came back with a huge grin on her face.

"I bought us one." She leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"You what?" I managed.

"Yes. Come on, this will be fun!" She got up and took my hand, tugged me up.

I looked at Jack and Terry, who both had shit eating grins on their faces.

"Debra, I don't want to be with any......?" I managed.

"Shut up and go with the flow, this will be fun. I have it all set up." She told me as she dragged me through the door following Capri.

With my Debra if she decides to do something it's best to just go along with it.

"I need you to step in here, honey." Capri told me.

I sighed and went through the door. It barely shut behind me when a dark skinned woman came through another doorway.

The description would be...big! Her hair was in tight corn rows, it must have taken a full day to do that.

"Drop the pants, honey. I am here to check you out, give you a quick bath. It's a rule, you can't go back unless we do." She smiled.

I wasn't about to argue, this woman looked like she could handle me with ease. She had on a smock, she shrugged it back off her shoulders.

The only thing underneath that was a thong, and she had the very best set of breasts that money can buy. Her nipples were way bigger than even my Debs has, and she has a dandy set on her. 

She just reached out without a word and began to strip me, I overheard Debra say something to Capri outside, then giggle.

As I was standing naked and blushing in what was a shower stall, the woman inspected my genitals carefully, then washed me head to toe. There was a long hose with a spray head, the water was so close to body temperature I nearly could not feel it. She even got down and used a brush to cleanse between my toes.

"Hey!" I complained when she pushed me over and went up my fanny with a wash cloth. From somewhere she had produced a latex glove, yep!

Inside, too. I sort of clenched up at that.

"Relax, honey." She told me. I was doing my very best to not react but there is just no way in hell to not do that in such a situation.

Then the woman was scrubbing my testicles and holding my penis with one hand and she kept giving me little squeezes which did not do a single thing to help the situation.

"Damn nice big one, sweetie. Waxed, that is cool on an older man. What are you 50 now?"

"Uhh..I am 69." I answered.

"No way! Plus wow! You are a grower, not a shower I see. God this is a nice looking cock! I would love to suck on that some, next time you come see me, OK? Just ask for Darla. I will give you a discount."

Yea, sure, I thought. $2000, maybe $4000, Capri had told us? What, 10% off maybe?

I was wanting to get out of here.

What in the hell did my Debra do?

Darla gave me a robe, led me out and down the hall.

Inside, there sat Debra on a high stool, one elbow on a circular table. There was no one else in the room.

"Ok. What is going on? I just got basically molested in a shower by some giant black woman, now what?"

"Sit down, honey. This will we be fun." I looked around, there was a fluffy looking bed there so I sat down.

I barely got settled and Capri came in. Naked as it is possible to be. I looked, a man can't not look.

Her breasts were on the small side, soft and sagging quite a bit, there was a roll at her belly. Most women in today's world are shaved or waxed, Capri sported a full bush.

"Debra?" I managed.

"I saw you looking at her fanny, so relax and go with it." She told me.

Capri tittered.

Not my fault there, Capri was climbing up the steps right in front of us so of course I looked at her ass.

"Lie down on your tummy, Danny." Capri reached out and sort of pushed me down on the bed. Next thing I knew I had a bit on the plump side naked woman on top of me, rubbing me, licking my behind, tickling my balls. At first I was tense but then it begin to feel good, I figured I might as well relax and enjoy it.

I didn't expect the blindfold, though. Hands were all over me, at one point what I was pretty sure was a pussy slid across my face but when my tongue stuck out to try and be sure it was gone.

It did have hair though, and I know my Debs has none at all.

I have no idea how long that went on, at one point I was sure Capri was sucking on my cock but I could see nothing.

Finally I felt what had to be a naked bottom sliding up my legs, there was some kind of lotion or oil. I tried to reach up with my hands to find out but something was holding them down and I didn't know what.

Then someone else was in the room, it wasn't Debra.

"How does that feel, honey? I heard her voice from where she had been earlier, so she was just sitting there watching.

"....uhhh..." I managed to groan.

Someone sucked on my cock again for a minute or two, I think that was what was happening, anyway.

At one point it felt like a hand was wrapped around my erection, just holding it upwards, then that female bottom was there. The end of my cock went into something soft and wet and I was getting fucked thoroughly.

She was coming downwards just enough for her bottom to bump, then moving upwards, it felt amazing, almost a tease.

I never would have dreamed, not in an entire lifetime that Debra would ever stand for me having sex with a prostitute?

But then, she did surprise me by allowing Terry to jerk me off, and she lay there while Jack did the same thing to her.

I felt myself let go, there was no way to stop that, I actually did try but that just made it more powerful. I have to admit that the sensation was different than any I never experienced.

Then it hit me!

There was no condom, I was sure of that. I never felt any being put on, I would have known, of that I was positive.

My God! I felt myself wilt at the thought, then realizing my hands were free I reached up and jerked the cloth that was covering my face off.

Debra was looking over her shoulder down at me with a grin. She was naked. There was no one else in there with us.

"You are a brat, you know that?" I told her.

"Yes, honey, but I am your brat." She laughed.

That was amazing, I had just gotten done having sex in a whorehouse with my own wife and didn't even realize it until after.

"Was that all you, or did she....?"

"Oh, she did suck your cock a little bit, I let her. Besides, when we were negotiating, she told me she wanted to and asked me if she could." Debs giggled.

"Maybe I should have charged her?" She added.

I blinked, didn't say anything.

"That was to get you in position so I could slip around and get myself into position." She added with another giggle.

"I have to admit I really did think.....?"

"Yes, I know. That was the whole idea." She said, rolling over and lying on top of me.

+++

We were on the way home, sitting in the back seat of Jack and Terry's car when I asked her.

"What did all of that cost?" I asked.

"$500.00." She told me.

"What? $500.00 for that?" I asked.

"Well, that was her finger up your fanny, honey!" Debs told me with a laugh.

+++

OK, so this was just last week. 

One aside here, if you are ever in Reno and have the time, go visit the place.

Many of the taxicabs have the name of it advertised with big signs up on top, I am not sure I can use the name here. 

Think of wild Horses, the place is famous, and rightly so. 

The tour may cost money, I don't know. If it did, Jack and Terry paid for it, they also paid for lunch.

Oddly, the four of us have become friends. I paid for dinner a few nights ago, $200 for the Lobster and Filet for the four of us.

One hell of a trip, and I found out even more about that naughty wife of mine. 

Tour Bus Incest



Johnny Durham has had quite the roller coaster ride. Just twenty four months ago he was performing comedy in crappy roadhouses, driving all night to get the next less than ideal gig. Now, he sold out theaters and traveled in a $850,000 tour buses and $10,000,000 private jets.

Johnny's manager was his sister, Tess. Tess had a degree in business management, she was well organized and one of his favorite people on earth. They had always been close. In fact, they were sexually involved for nearly four years in their early twenties.

Tess loved working for her brother. The money was good, the traveling was fun and it was relatively easy work. She still had resentment for her brother for calling off their sexual encounters now some six years ago.

One day, when it was just those two and the pilots on Johnny's jet on a flight from Minneapolis to Glen Falls, NY, Tess had to know.

"Johnny, why'd we quit having sex?"

Johnny didn't even look up from his iPad and responded. 

"Come on, Tess. Don't bring that up."

"No I'm serious, why? You just stopped. You started shutting me down. Why, Johnny?

Johnny was silent.

"It was me. Wasn't it? It had to be something to do with me."

Again, Johnny said nothing. 

That night Johnny performed in front of nearly 5,000 fans in Glens Falls, NY. As he boarded his bus on his way to University Park, PA, he noticed his sister was already asleep in her bunk. He walked passed her and headed to his state room in the rear of the coach. As the bus got underway, he couldn't resist returning to his sister.

She looked perfect laying there in a Minnesota Vikings t-shirt and panties. She was in great shape. Her tits looked marvelous under her shirt. Johnny felt his penis begin to grow. He reached out and rubbed his hand on her stomach. It was firm but soft. He moved his hand under her shirt and massaged her breasts. He slide his other hand into her panties and felt her freshly shaved mound. As he rubbed her clitoris gently, she moaned and bucked towards his finger while still asleep. Johnny was dumbfounded. Here she was, the most beautiful woman he had even been with, and he just walked away from her. For the life of him, he couldn't remember why he had done it. He felt awful for hurting her. He looked at her face and saw her eyes were open. She was awake.

"Oh-Hey. How long have you... I have never done this before."

Her face was blank. She slapped his hands away and rolled over. Johnny was left with a raging hard on. He took a cold shower and went to bed.

When he awoke, he noticed Tess wasn't in her bunk. He found her in the front lounge of the bus eating an orange. 

"Good morning, Johnny. You have a 9:30am interview with a radio station, 11:00am lunch with a Comedy Central executive and at 2:00pm, we tour the football stadium.

"Tess, can we talk about last night?"

"Pre-sale for tonight looks great. Same with the rest of the week. Indianapolis and Roanoke are sold out"

Johnny sighed. "Tess!"

"Get dressed Johnny, the limo will be here shortly."

They went through the day without Tess even looking at her brother. Johnny carried on with his show like normal while Tess handled her emotions with a few drinks. When Johnny returned to the bus. Tess was passed out. Tonight, he left her alone, had a bowl of cereal, watched an episode of "Modern Family" and went to bed.

While the bus traveled across Ohio towards Indianapolis, Johnny awoke to his sister climbing into bed with him. 

"Johnny, do you want me?"

"Tess?"

"Because I want you Johnny. I've always wanted you. I've never stopped wanting to be with you. I just don't want you to hurt me again. But maybe feeling the way you made me feel is worth it"

"Tess, I love you. I loved being with you. It just didn't feel right any more. Didn't you feel it?"

"No. You fucking me has always felt so right."

"Tess, last night-"

"You don't have to explain."

Tess began moving down below the covers. She could feel her brothers half hard dick underneath his boxer shorts. She kissed at it and immediately could feel it begin to grow more rapidly. Her brother didn't say a word. He just raised his ass off the bed to allow his sister to slide his shorts off. Tess could feel the heat coming from her brothers privates. She buried her face into his crotch. The feeling of his cock on her mouth and his pubic hair on her nose was electrifying. 

She brought her lips to the end of his now throbbing member. As she kissed him, she felt him relax. She took in the head, sucking it vigorously. She loved his taste. She had missed his taste. She was sucking passionately now moving her mouth up and down his hard cock. He was oozing pre-cum and his hands on his sister's head was reassurance to her that he too had missed these interactions.

Tess could feel her brother was nearing explosion. She removed her lips from his erection and poised herself over him. She was dripping with her own sexual fluids. She squatted over Johnny and guided him into her. She whimpered as Johnny's cock entered her for the first time in nearly six years. Tess knew her brother hadn't had sex in at least six months. She herself hadn't been laid in nearly a year. Johnny grabbed her hips as she moved her body up and down his manhood. He had missed how her tits moved in almost a circular motion as she rode her. 

Tess reached down behind her and tenderly caressed her brother's ball sack. Johnny instinctively thumbed her clit. She ground her snatch into him. Suddenly, she began to cum. She shook violently. Their hands met as she whimpered in orgasm. She climbed off her brother's shaft and sat on his thighs. Legs still spread, she began running both hands up and down her brother's member. 

"Blow your load on my pussy, Johnny. Do it like old times" she slapped his member against her glistening pussy. She ground her clit into his cock head. Johnny threw his head back in extacy. He covered his sister's mound in gobs of his sweet semen. 

Tess climbed off her brother and left into the darkness of the tour bus.

Johnny laid there in awe, trying to process what had happened.

After this incident, they continued to have sex regularly again. No emotions, just good, hot sex.



Tour de DeGarde



Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

*****

Chapter 1

It was the breaking zipper that pushed Sarah Juarez to take action. It was her favorite skirt, a pale pink skirt that reached to just above her knees and in attempting to squeeze her bulk into it, the teeth of the zipper refused to hold fast.

The cream colored skirt showed the same signs of distress when she tried to zip it shut and Sarah was forced to slip into her cream colored slacks with the elastic waistband or risk being late for class.

She walked the five blocks from the apartment complex to the University of Louisiana at DeGarde campus, cursing the fact that she had to wear four inch heels with the slacks, or risk tripping herself on the hem of the slightly too long garment.

Sarah barely made it to Professor Huxton's Algebra 101 class before the unpleasant man launched into his rapid-fire nasally delivered lecture. The teaching assistant nodded to Sarah, letting her know that she had been marked as 'present' for the class.

"Girl, I didn't even know you owned any pants," Ashley Melancon, Sarah's best friend since eight grade teased as they both left the classroom.

"Shut up," Sarah snapped, still in a bad mood over the damage of the skirt and the thorough confusion heaped upon them by Professor Huxton.

"Seriously, I can't tell you the last time I saw you in pants," Ashley said.

"Yeah, well," Sarah muttered and waved good bye to her friend.

Sarah attended her Colonial Literature class and her Statistics 105 class before she could return to the two bedroom, one bathroom apartment she shared with April Adams. She was grateful; April was not home when she let herself into the cool interior of the apartment.

Closing her bedroom door, Sarah stripped off the slacks, and then slipped out of her pale green silk blouse. She turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror that hung on the back of her door.

At five feet, two inches, Sarah was average height for a Hispanic girl. She had long black hair that reached to the back of her thighs, a square face with dark eyes and full lips. Her skin tone was dark and her wide spread nose and full lips seemed to give even more credence to the claims by some that she 'must have some coffee in her cream.' As far as she knew, though, there were no African-Americans in her family lineage.

"Fat," Sarah muttered, looking at her rounded belly. "I'm getting fat."

Her belly did roll slightly over the top of her silk bikini panties and her cone shaped breasts were beginning to spill out the sides of her silk 34B bra. She sighed in frustration and unhooked the bra. Her breasts dropped slightly and the nineteen year old girl ground her teeth in frustration. Her dark nipples did point upward, but she could see that they were starting their downward droop.

She slid her panties down to her plump thighs and turned to peer at her chunky ass in the mirror.

"Fat, fat, fat," she cursed her reflection.

She pulled the panties back on over her rounded ass, pulled on a housedress then walked to the kitchen.

Just as she had done hundreds of times in the past, whenever Sarah felt depressed, or frustrated, or melancholy, she got out the chocolate chips and the flour and made chocolate chip cookies.

Just as she was pulling the second sheet of cookies out of the oven, April Adams let herself into the apartment.

"Oh oh, what's wrong?" April asked, peering around the corner into the kitchen.

Sarah looked at the pleasant face of her roommate and scowled.

"Why you say that, huh?" she demanded.

"Chocolate chip cookies?" April asked and tried to pick one of the cookies up off the wire rack. "You only make them when you're upset about something.

"Wait; they're not cool enough yet," Sarah protested as April whistled, trying to hold onto the hot cookie.

April put the cookie back and tossed her Domino's Pizza cap onto the kitchen table; a move she should know by now was seriously upsetting to Sarah.

April wasn't even supposed to be living in the apartment; it had been Sarah's friend Maria Montoyez that had agreed to share the apartment and expenses. A month after moving in, Maria, a beautiful, vivacious girl, had come home, pulling April behind her. The two girls locked themselves into Maria's bedroom and proceeded to smoke several bongs of marijuana. 

Sarah did not like marijuana; it didn't get her high, it just gave her a headache. But because she didn't smoke it, Maria assumed Sarah was a prude and so Maria locked herself in her bedroom when she wanted to get stoned.

That weekend had led to April simply moving in; she had a large connection to people she could get drugs from. Plus that, her job delivering pizzas meant she could pay her third of the expenses and usually had free pizzas to boot.

Although she was a slob, April had a sweet personality, did attempt to do her fair share of cooking and cleaning, and seemed to like the same music and television shows that Sarah liked, so Sarah did not insist that the stoned girl leave.

A couple of months after moving April in, Maria decided she'd had enough of living in boring DeGarde, Louisiana and decided to move to Houston, Texas. A tearful April asked Sarah if she could stay; she didn't seem to realize that Sarah needed her just as much as she needed Sarah.

"Fuck, man, can't move back home, you know?" April sniffled.

Sarah didn't ask about April's home life; it was none of her business and she could tell that April didn't want to talk about it.

"I guess," Sarah feigned reluctance.

"I mean, shit, I'll pay half, you know?" April promised.

Now, peering into the kitchen, April did not realize why Sarah was glaring daggers at her, then at the offending cap on the table.

Finally, Sarah snapped, "Get that off the table."

"Oops, sorry; forgot man," April said and grabbed the cap.

She disappeared. A few minutes later, Sarah heard the shower start. April seemed to know that Sarah did not like the smell of Domino's Pizza on April, the cloying tomato paste and garlic and olive oil smell was overwhelming to Sarah.

Sarah turned and began fixing their dinner.

"Let me guess," April said, padding nude into the kitchen, grabbing one of the now cooled cookies. "Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy."

Sarah turned to smirk at the girl; this was another thing she cooked when she was upset. She looked at the five foot five inch pale blonde and felt a wave of resentment.

April had shoulder length blonde hair, light blue eyes, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her too small nose, and a button mouth.

Her arms were slender, her chest small; April wore a size 30A bra. Her nipples were pale pink quarter sized bumps on the small mounds. Her waist was very slender and her hips swelled out only slightly.

Her mat of blonde wisps did not completely cover her labia; the pale pink lips peeked through the curls. Absently, April scratched at her pubic mound for a moment.

April yanked the refrigerator door open and bent over to see if there was any tomato juice left. Sarah looked at April's tiny backside and fought the urge to give April's small ass a hard, malicious slap.

"Damn it; drank the last one?" April complained and left the kitchen, not closing the refrigerator completely shut.

Twenty minutes later, Sarah called out that dinner was ready. She was grateful to see that April had put on her customary football jersey. The bright red jersey had a bright white number 42 on the front and back and the name ADAMS across the back, across the shoulders. It hung down to mid thigh on her and the sleeves hung down to her elbows, so Sarah knew April was not the original owner. 

The one time she'd asked about the jersey, April pretended not to hear her, so Sarah did not ask about it again.

After dinner, April did her part; clearing the table and beginning on the pot the mashed potatoes had been fixed in.

"Let me guess," she said as Sarah pulled a plate of cookies out of the refrigerator. "Marc?"

Marc Whitman was their next door neighbor. He was tall, at least in the eyes of Sarah and April, very muscular, and was very good looking. He had long brown hair that he kept in a pony-tail, light hazel eyes that always seemed to be laughing, and a permanent easy smile. He seemed to have an aversion to wearing shirts and often wore very snug and very short shorts.

Both Sarah and April surmised that Marc was probably gay; they had never seen him in the company of a girl. There were, however, a lot of men, similar in build and similar in their aversion to shirts and long pants that visited next door on a regular basis.

"Uh huh," Sarah agreed and padded to the door.

Marc was just returning from a bike ride when Sarah opened the door of her apartment.

"Wow, talk about perfect timing!" she laughed.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, smiling.

"Yeah, I was just bringing these over," Sarah said, indicating the paper plate of cookies.

He complained about carbohydrates, processed sugars, fat, but did not let go of the cookies. He thanked her, asked about Maria, couldn't seem to remember April's name, and then shut the door of his apartment.

Sarah returned to her apartment and decided to take her shower a little early. Her pussy was dripping wet; Marc's body had shone with sweat, his muscles had rippled and the lump in his tight shorts seemed to thicken as she stood in the doorway of his apartment.

She grabbed her pale blue baby doll top and matching panties and dashed to the bathroom.

Pulling off her housedress and peeling down her moist panties, she made the mistake of looking at her reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

Fat, fat, fat," she muttered to herself in disgust.

The mood to masturbate was gone so she did not reach into the cabinet to dig around behind the neatly stacked towels, did not pull the rubber dong she had secreted there.

Sarah was sure April knew of the Dong's presence, but April did not say anything about it.

Maria was not as accommodating; she'd pulled it out and shrieking with laughter, demanded to know what it was and why Sarah had it.

Sarah did pull out one of the fluffy towels and a clean face cloth. She frowned at the sight of April's blue jeans and panties, wadded up on the floor, instead of in the hamper in her bedroom. She did frown at the sight of the cap to the shampoo bottle, sitting on the floor of the tub, instead of on the shampoo bottle.

In the shower, she lathered up her hair with her own shampoo, and then made quick work of scrubbing her body with her perfumed soap. Her make-up was carefully removed with a separate soap, a medicated scrub.

Sarah had always been a girly girl, preferring dresses and skirts to slacks or shorts. She owned no jeans at all; they just weren't feminine enough for her. There was not a tee shirt in her closet or chest of drawers. Her only pair of tennis shoes were bubble gum pink in color and served very little athletic function.

Her fingernails and toenails had always been filed meticulously and polished. Even before her mother would allow her to wear color, Sarah put a coat of clear polish on fingernails and toenails.

Lip gloss had been a staple item in her purse from the moment she had been given a purse and she carried a purse, dreaming of the day the purse would contain make-up, foundation, powder, blush, eye shadow, lipstick, mascara. She did not need any of these items; her dark skin tone was without blemish and her lips already naturally full. But Sarah loved the trappings of womanhood.

Make-up removed, Sarah grabbed the can of perfumed gel and her razor blade.

From the moment her body began sprouting hair, Sarah had taken her mother's razor and shaving cream and removed the offending wisps of hair. From time to time, she would skip a day, but very rarely did she skip two days before dragging the razor over her body.

Almost as if she had been monitoring her progress, just as Sarah began the contortions to whisk the hair from her anal region, April knocked lightly on the door.

"Just about done? I've got to potty," April called out.

"Two minutes, please," she yelled back. "Just give me two more minutes."

Just as she passed the razor blade over the last bit of foam around her perineum, April opened the door of the bathroom.

"Sorry; I really need to go," April whined and plopped down on the commode.

"And pick up your clothes, huh?" Sarah demanded, rubbing baby oil into her skin.

Chapter 2

A week into her new-found resolve to lose at least thirty pounds, Sarah determined that it was going to take a little more than just yoga. She only knew five basic yoga movements and none of them seemed to target her rounded belly, or flabby thighs, or pudgy ass.

Sarah checked the local listings on-line for exercise equipment and was appalled at the prices people were charging for used equipment. It was April 27th, which meant it would be at least one more week before she got her monthly check from the trust her maternal grandfather had set up for her and for his eight other grandchildren.

Deciding that she could not afford any of the equipment listed, she clicked on the link for 'Household' in hopes of finding another cast iron skillet. She wasn't sure what April had done with hers (she said she had done nothing to it) but it had not tasted right for a few weeks now.

Whoever had done the listing obviously had not seen the category for 'Health and Fitness' because the stationary bike was listed in 'Household' and Sarah blinked at the price. The ad said simply, "Old stationary bike, $25" and a telephone number.

"Hi, yes, that bike; you sell it yet?" she begged when a gravelly voiced man answered.

"The bike? No; no one seems to want it," the man said. "Still got some old cooking stuff too."

"Be right there; wait, where are you?" Sarah excitedly said.

He gave her directions to a house in Bender, Louisiana, and she ran down the stairs to her car.

The older man that opened the door smiled sadly as he let her in.

"Yeah, my mother passed away four months ago; this is all that's left," he said as she stepped into the empty house.

"I'm sorry," she said to the old man.

"Yeah, well, hell, she was eighty seven, not like it was a big surprise after her last stroke, you know?" he said and closed the door.

"Now, you were looking at that skillet?" he asked, pointing to the kitchen.

"No, well, wait, what kind of skillet? I was really interested in that bike," she said.

"Oh yeah, the bike," he said and gestured to a second door.

It was a squat bike in an ugly green color, slung low to the ground. There were no wheels visible, just a long metal rectangle with a post where a leather saddle sat, two pedals, and two separate handles.

'Astro-Cycle' in flat black letters adorned the ugly green rectangle.

"Never heard of that brand," Sarah said.

"Yeah, well, she bought it in oh, must have been nineteen sixty seven or eight, you know, when the race to the moon was on?" the man chuckled. "Everything had some kind of connection to the space program. Even orange juice. Ever heard of Tang?"

"Tang? Yeah; it's all right," Sarah shrugged.

"Well, that's what the astronauts drank," the man smiled. "And Mom thought anything that was associated with the moon helped with the moon project and bought it."

"Seat's all torn up," Sarah said, looking at the cracked leather. Chunks of foam rubber had been torn away from the saddle's padding.

"Yeah, well, almost forty years, you know?" the man shrugged.

"It work?" Sarah asked.

"Pretty sure it does; do last time I tried it," the man agreed. "Thing's all metal, none of that plastic stuff to break, you know?"

Sarah gingerly got on, afraid to put too much of her weight on the tattered seat. She pushed the front of her skirt down, protecting her modesty.

She put her feet on the pedals and gave a cautious push. The left handle came back toward her while the right handle went away from her.

"Oh, the handlebar moves too?" she asked and pedaled a little more.

The left handle reached the end of the cycle as did the right handle bar and the two began to reverse their trajectory.

"Yeah, and if you don't want that, you push this," the old man indicated a thumb lever on the right handle. "It'll lock them in place."

Sarah noticed a thumb lever on the left bar and pointed to it.

"Think that controls how hard it is; you know, you want it to be easy, you push it all the way up," the man said.

"You mean the resistance?" Sarah asked and eased the left thumb lever down.

Immediately, the pedals became a little harder to push.

"I want it," Sarah said and pulled her wallet out of her purse.

"Good, good, was afraid I'd have to just leave it here," the man said.

"Now, let's see the cookware you got," Sarah said.

"Right here, still in the box; just found it the other day," the man said. "Mom had it up in the attic, underneath all her Christmas lights."

Sarah gasped at the sight of the three cast iron skillets.

"How much?" she asked excitedly.

"Tell you what," the man said. "Forty bucks you get it all out of here."

"These pans are brand new," Sarah protested. "I can't..."

"They're not brand new," the man said. "My brother Johnny gave them to Mom about twenty years ago as a joke."

"Cast Iron skillets?" Sarah asked, confused.

"Yeah, Mom couldn't cook," the man chuckled. "So, Johnny would give her stuff like recipe books, kitchen knives, that kind of stuff."

Sarah pulled two twenty dollar bills out and handed them to the man.

"Mom's recipe for vegetable soup? I'm not making this up," the man said, absently pocketing the two bills. "Take a big can of V-8 juice, a big can of mixed vegetables, heat and serve."

"Ew! And y'all would eat that?" Sarah grimaced.

She put the box of assorted pans on the front passenger seat while the man put her bike into the trunk of her car. 

(She had insisted he wait until she could help him, but the old man was trying to show off for the pudgy young girl. He regretted it; the all metal unit was quite heavy.)

Sarah was grateful to see that Marc's car was in front of the apartment building; she had seen how the old man grunted and strained with the heavy bike.

She left the box of pans in the car as she traipsed up the stairs to the apartment.

Marc smiled and showed off for Sarah's benefit, easily lifting the forty seven pound contraption out of the trunk.

"Real bike's better," he commented as he followed her up the stairs.

"That bike's safer," she said.

She quickly closed April's bedroom door, not wanting Marc to see the deplorable condition of the room and guided him to her room.

He looked around, amused at all the frilly lace and stuffed animals.

Chapter 3

The bike sat at the foot of her bed, facing the wall. 

When Marc had brought it in, he had put it facing the door. The first time Sarah used it, she had been disgusted at the sight of herself grunting and sweating in her bedroom mirror, so she twisted it ninety degrees the other way.

Marc had looked at the remnants of the old saddle, told Sarah he'd be right back and rushed out of her bedroom.

Moments later, he returned with a much smaller saddle.

"Bought this; supposed to be the same kind Pierre Savantier uses, fucking hated it," he said as he squatted down, wrench in hand.

"Who?" Sarah asked.

"Pierre Savantier? Won the Death Valley two hundred and fifty K?" Marc asked, incredulous that she did not know who Pierre Savantier was.

He grunted, cursed, and trained mightily against a nut that had been rusted into place over several decades. Sarah examined the hard leather seat. The pebble grained leather was light beige in color and had thick stitching joining the two pieces of leather, the stitching running from front to rear straight down the middle of the seat. She felt the seat and saw that there was absolutely no padding or cushioning in the seat. She resolved to buy a different seat as soon as she got her Grandfather's check. 




Tour de DeGarde



Finally Marc let out a huge sigh.

"Man, fucker's on there, huh? Got any WD Forty, or maybe some Three in One Oil around?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sarah said and left the bedroom.

She returned a moment later with a large can of WE-40.

"My grandfather's a big believer in this stuff," she laughed, handing the can to Marc. "If he could drink it, he would."

Marc liberally sprayed the nut, handed the can back to Sarah, and then waited a moment before trying again.

With a loud squeak, the nut gave way and Marc smiled triumphantly.

He made quick work of installing the new seat.

"Why you don't like this?" Sarah asked, again feeling the seat.

"Feel, right here," Marc said, grabbing her small hand and rubbing it over a knot near the front of the narrow saddle. "Thing driving up into my boys? Pierre might get off on that; I sure don't. Of course, Babbage's is like 'you used it, we can't take it back,' even though I used it like once maybe for thirty minutes. That's seventy four bucks down the drain.

"Seventy four bucks?" Sarah cried out. "Marc! I can't afford that!"

"It's yours," he smiled, grabbing her old saddle. "Consider it payment for all them cookies... Oh! And that killer birthday cake you made me."

"Birth... I never made you..." Sarah puzzled.

"This Friday," he smiled. "Angel food's like my favorite, especially with vanilla frosting."

As soon as he left the apartment, Sarah locked the door, then ran to her bedroom and closed and locked that door as well. She put her skirt on the bed, pulled on a pair of shorts; she'd bought them only because they were trimmed in lace and got onto the bike.

The old man's mother must have been considerably taller than five feet two inches; Sarah had to lean way forward when the handle bars were at their farthest trajectory. She put the right thumb lever down and after the bars were matched in distance, they did click into a locked position. She pushed the lever down again and this time it was the pedals that locked into place, but both handlebars and seat post moved back and forth; the seat and bars coming nearly together when she pulled, and stretching far apart when she pushed. The last setting of the lever combined both pedaling and seat and handlebars moving. After only a moment of this setting, Sarah was tired; unlike the previous setting, she could not control how far apart the bars and seat would travel and nearly fell of, trying to hold onto the bars.

She flipped the lever back to the original position, put the resistance to 'Two' and sweated and grunted for a twenty minute work out.

"Hey, I got pizza; some ass hole ordered a large Veggie then didn't have the money," April called out, slamming the front door.

Sarah got to very shaky legs; obviously she was in worse shape than she had realized.

April noticed the shorts, raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Thanks," Sarah grunted after they'd devoured the pizza.

"Welcome," April smiled, already stripping off her work clothes.

Sarah almost insisted that she be allowed to shower first; she was convinced that the smell of her sweat was overwhelming. Before she could say anything, April was already in the shower, though.

Instead, she cleaned the kitchen, even wiping down the countertop, even though they weren't dirty.

The next afternoon, Sarah changed out of her school clothing, put on a clean pair of shorts, a lacy tank top and her bubble gum pink athletic shoes and got onto the bike. She then looked up, saw herself in the mirror, got off, and strained and heaved, and turned the bike away from the mirror.

Again, after twenty minutes, she was sweaty and shaky. She got off, unlocked her bedroom door and staggered down the hall to the kitchen.

She almost reached for the pound of ground beef to make spaghetti and meat sauce, but at the last minute decided to make something a little healthier.

"Warm salad for dinner," Sarah called out when April came in.

"With those beans?" April asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Uh huh," Sarah agreed.

"Um, cute outfit; why've you dressed like that?" April asked, noticing the shorts and lacy tank top.

Oh that's right!" Sarah laughed. "Come see."

April followed Sarah down the hall to her bedroom.

"Oh, cool!" April laughed. "Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle, I want to ride my bicycle..."

"What?" Sarah asked as April sang.

"Bicycle Race? By that group, oh, what was, those guys... Queen! They had this stupid song about their bicycle or something," April laughed.

"You'd know it if you heard it," April said, leaving Sarah's bedroom.

A moment later, Sarah smelled the unmistakable smell of marijuana as April shut her bedroom door.

"You're not eating?" Sarah called through the door.

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" April giggled. "In a minute."

Sarah gave it five minutes, then fixed both of them large bowls of the salad.

"This got that kale in it?" April asked as she sat down.

"Yeah, it's good for you," Sarah said, sliding the bottle of fat-free raspberry dressing to April. "Food Network says it's a super food."

"Stuff tastes like grass or something," April made a face.

"Don't eat it," Sarah shrugged.

"I'm just saying," April said, dumping a large amount of the dressing on the salad.

Sarah's muscles were still shaky as she showered that night and she determined she'd have to ask Marc to lower the bars for her.

That Friday, while she frosted his birthday cake, Marc sprayed the bolts that held the individual bars with the WD-40, sprayed the sleeves that held the bars, sprayed the bars, strained, grunted and cursed. The bars did not move. The seat post did not move either when he had the bright idea to raise that, those making the bars and seat equal in height.

"Sorry," he sheepishly admitted when she asked if he'd had any luck.

"That's okay; you tried," she comforted, sliding the large birthday cake toward him. "Happy birthday anyway."

"Thanks; if this is as good as your cookies, we'll love it," he said, grabbing the cake and scurrying to the door before Sarah could ask who 'we' was.

Chapter 4

"Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle," April sang out as she carried in a slightly burnt pizza. "Double pepperoni dumb ass manager burnt, showing off for that bitch Heather. Get this, then he bitches at me for adding onions and jalapeno, believe that?"

"Ew, burnt? Why would..." Sarah complained.

"Just pick off the burnt part; he just torched around the crust," April said, looking at the new tee shirt and nylon shorts that Sarah was wearing.

The crust and a few of the pepperoni were charred pretty badly, but the pizza itself was still very edible.

"I didn't know you even owned a tee shirt," April commented as Sarah cleaned up the kitchen.

"Just bought them today; got this three pack," Sarah admitted. 

She indicated the light pink shirt she was wearing.

"Had this, and a blue and the green and feel..." she said and held the hem out to April.

"Oh, soft," April agreed, feeling the material.

"Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle, I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike," April sang as she walked to the bathroom.

A moment later, Sarah heard the shower start up.

"That can't be the words to that song," she said to herself and went to her room and booted up her computer.

"Oh my God, look at this!" she called out to April as the video for the song played on her computer.

"Yeah, that's it!" April laughed as she heard the song playing.

"No, no, come see!" Sarah demanded.

April walked in, pulling her football jersey on over her nude body.

"Oh my God!" she laughed as she watched the several nude women bicycling around the track.

"They're all naked!" Sarah exclaimed.

Of course, the nudity itself was not fully visible, but it was apparent anyway.

"Let me..." April said as the song ended.

She typed rapidly on the keyboard and another video began to run, showing several women cycling nude on a Paris street.

Sarah stared at the sight of these women that cycled about, uncaring that they were overweight, that their bodies were hairy. Some of the women were attractive, slender women, some did not have hair sprouting from their underarms or on their legs. But the majority were grotesque, in Sarah's eyes.

"They let them do that?" Sarah asked, incredulous, as one scene showed a French police officer smiling broadly at the nude women.

"Yeah, well, they're not all freaked out about that kind of shit over there," April shrugged, scratching at her rear end, flashing her buttocks to Sarah.

April left the room and Sarah hit the 'Replay' button and watched as the women cycled through the streets of Paris, nude except for shoes.

She watched a few more similar videos, listening to the French reporter's commentary, wishing she'd paid more attention in her French class last semester.

Late the next morning Sarah got up, the tune of 'Bicycle Race' running in her head. 

Returning from the bathroom, she reached for her baby blue tee shirt, then looked at the closed door of her bedroom. She had taken to closing her bedroom door when she and Maria had moved in together, to minimize the stench of marijuana smoke seeping into her bedroom. April, it seemed, smoked even more than Maria did, if that was possible, so Sarah's bedroom door stayed shut most of the time.

She quietly engaged the lock of her door and looked at the blinds on her bedroom window. They were angled up, so that no one could peek in. The fact that they'd have to be either on a tall ladder, or hanging upside down from the roof did not matter to Sarah. She wanted to minimize any opportunity for the unknown perverts that might be lurking around outside.

As a double precaution, Sarah pulled the lacy curtains together, darkening the room slightly.

She giggled as she stripped out of her filmy camisole and tap pants and lace bikini panties. Nude, she sat on the floor in front of her closet and pulled on her footies with the little pink fuzz balls at the heel, then laced up her athletic shoes.

She swung a leg over and gasped as the cool leather came in contact with her warm flesh. She moved the thumb lever to '1' and began pedaling.

At '1' she was able to pedal quite rapidly; '3' was the highest she'd managed to get, '4' remained far too difficult for her.

Sara's eyes opened wide as she leaned forward to maintain her grip on the right handlebar. This position splayed her pussy lips open slightly.

She had noticed this before, but had always had shorts and panties between herself and the seat.

Furthering the movement brought her clitoris directly in contact with the seat, rasping against the thick stitching. At the apex of the handlebar's path, the knot Marc had complained about rubbed against her and she moaned slightly.

She pedaled a little faster and followed the progression of the left handlebar as it began to pull away from her. Again her pussy lips splayed open slightly and her clitoris again rubbed on the stitching.

"Oh fuck!" she giggled as the knot rubbed her again.

On the tenth rapid rotation of the bars, she stiffened, stopping the maddening friction, then shuddered in orgasm.

Flipping the lever to '2' meant she had to strain a little harder and her orgasm was quick to come. By the time she'd had two more orgasms, she was too weak to flip the lever to '3' and instead flipped the other lever to the rowing motion setting.

"Oh God!" she laughed as she pushed the bars away, leaning forward and mashing her now far too sensitive clitoris against the seat.

After her next orgasm, Sarah collapsed to the floor and lay there, trying to catch her breath.

"God, I love my bike!" she panted out loud.

"See you later," April called out.

A moment later, Sarah reached for something to cover herself when April knocked lightly on her door.

"Going to be kind of late," she called through the door. "Remember? Going to that Sigma Phi Iota party? You want to go?"

"No thanks," Sarah called back, now struggling into her tee shirt.

The University of Louisiana at DeGarde had already placed the Sigma Phi Iota fraternity on strict warning for their last party; a party in which two girls had to be rushed to St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center. Both girls had consumed far too much alcohol, even though both girls were only eighteen and had fallen from the roof of the three story building. No one knew what they were doing on the roof, or where their clothes had disappeared to, but the fraternity knew there would be no second warning for them.

A moment later, the door slammed. Sarah, however, pulled a pair of khakis on, the thrill of naughtiness waning.

Sarah unlocked the bedroom door and peered out, making sure she was alone. She then went into the kitchen to make herself lunch

"Damn it, April!" she cursed.

April had obviously had the munchies last night and had consumed the last of the ham.

"Damn it, April!" she cursed again as she looked at the garbage can, the wreckage of April's late night refrigerator raid spilling out onto the floor.

She sighed, made sure she had her keys with her and grabbed the garbage can.

"Hey, that cake was awesome," Marc said, carrying his bicycle down the stairs ahead of Sarah.

"Was? You ate the whole thing?" Sarah asked as he put his helmet on.

"Well, yeah,"he said, then pedaled away.

Twice more that day, Sarah made sure the front door was locked, made sure her bedroom door was locked, made sure the blinds were angled correctly and the curtains were tightly drawn. Then she stripped out of her clothing, put on her shoes, and pedaled her way to orgasm.

After eating a quiet dinner, Sarah gathered her things together and allowed herself her favorite pastime, a slow bubble bath. She only did this on the nights April worked the evening shift, or on nights like tonight, when April had plans that would keep her out late.

Normally, she would slowly, sensuously masturbate, pulling her inner lips out and wiggling slightly so that the water would caress her clitoris. Then she would softly stroke a slippery finger along her lips, then lightly touch her clitoris. Then she'd repeat this until the pressure had built up to a boiling point.

Her boiling point was reached almost immediately and a second orgasm was almost painful so Sarah concentrated instead on slowly, carefully removing any razor stubble.

When the water was cold, she flipped the stopper up, then stood and showered off any remaining suds and rinsed the conditioner out of her hair and the light mud pack off of her face. Then she rubbed baby oil into her skin, groaning slightly when she rubbed into her pubic mound, which was a little tender.

Chapter 5

April did not come home that evening and still was not home by Sunday evening. Sarah was a little concerned but reasoned that April was a big girl. 

"She knows my number; she'd call if she was in trouble," Sarah told herself and cleaned the apartment, all except for April's room.

Monday morning, Sarah got the news; there had been a raid at the Sigma Phi Iota house and nearly all in attendance were arrested on various charges, drugs being among the more serious ones.

"Oh shit," Sarah muttered and called the St. Elizabeth Parish Courthouse.

"Sigma Phi... Arraignment's this morning, ten o'clock, Courtroom D," the chipper woman informed Sarah.

April was easy to spot, looking quite haggard and frightened.

"Bail is thirty five thousand," the judge said and hammered the gavel.

"But that shit wasn't mine!" April protested.

"Bring it up at the trial, Honey," Judge Jesse Johnson said and again motioned for the next defendant to enter a plea.

"Got the Bail Bondsman on it," Sarah said and April broke down in tears.

"Thank you," she sobbed. "I tried to call you but their fucking phone won't let you call a cell phone."

Sarah drove April to the frat house so that April could pick up her car. The whole way, April kept repeating that the meth they'd found in her pose wasn't hers.

"Fuck, fucking hate that shit; why would I be holding it?" April protested.

Sarah was glad when April finally got out of the car.

"I mean, fuck! I told them the fucking weed was mine; why would I lie about that other shit?" April was still muttering when she closed the car door.

It was too late for Sarah to go to her last class for the day, so she simply followed April to their apartment.

When she let herself in, April was sitting on the couch, crying again.

"And if that ain't fucked up enough, get this shit!" April screamed angrily. "Fucking ass hole Gilbert just fired me! Said he don't need no fucking dope heads there!"

"Oh no," Sarah moaned.

Rent was due in two days; she had enough money to pay the rent in full, if she had to, but that would leave very little for utilities or food or other expenses.

"I still got another paycheck coming," April quickly said, sensing Sarah's concerns.

"And then what?" Sarah asked herself, lugging her books to her bedroom.

"Aw fuck! Them mother fuckers!" she heard April yell out.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"Fuck! They took my weed!" April complained, rifling through her purse.

"Um, no kidding?" Sarah asked sarcastically.

"Man if I ever needed that shit before..." April muttered angrily as she stomped into her bedroom.

She must have had a stash somewhere because a moment later, Sarah smelled the sickly sweet smell of marijuana. She firmly shut her door and booted her computer.

Sarah sent notes to the Teacher's Aides of the three classes she'd missed that day. Two of the Aides must have been on their computers; she had that day's lesson plans in her In Box within moments. An hour later, the third Aide responded with a very snotty message that Professor Begnaud was not interested in her personal problems; if she didn't know better than to attend the party of a fraternity that was under investigation, then Maybe College wasn't the place for her.

"God, what a sanctimonious bitch," Sarah muttered and rapidly typed out a new e-mail, letting the Aide know she had not been in attendance; her roommate had been.

"Get better friends/roommates," was the snide reply and Sarah forwarded both e-mail communications to Dr. Sims, the University's Dean and to Professor Owens, the head of the Liberal Arts Department.

Someone must have gotten the message; twenty minutes later she had the third lesson plan as well as an apology from Professor Begnaud herself.

Sarah quickly completed the assignments, looked at the computer's clock and realized she'd completely missed lunch. In just another hour, it would be their customary dinner time.

She opened the door and saw that April's door was open. Then she heard the shower and smiled to herself.

If she'd been in jail overnight, or over two nights as April had been, a shower is the first thing she would have done, rather than smoke a joint or two.

She went to the kitchen and looked into the pantry to see what they had.

"Can I have Potato soup and a tuna fish sandwich?" April tearfully asked, standing nude and still wet from her shower.

Just as fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy was Sarah's comfort food, Tuna salad sandwiches and cream of potato soup was April's . It was what she requested when she was sick, or depressed, or even happy.

"Of course," Sarah smiled.

"Thank you," April said and a few more tears slid down her face.

"It'll be all right," Sarah soothed.

"How, Sarah? Huh?" April asked, voice rising. "I'm a fucking high school drop out, no fucking skills, and now I've got a drug bust on my record! Who the fuck's going to hire me?"

Sarah did not have an answer so she opened the can of tuna fish and began preparing the salad.

"How you always get it just right?" April asked a moment later as Sarah used a fork to mash the mayonnaise and fish together.

"Just do it a little at a time," Sarah said, sprinkling the black pepper into the bowl.




Tour de DeGarde



"What you think I ought to do?" April asked, watching as Sarah chopped up the celery.

"Go put some clothes on," Sarah wanted to say, but knew that April didn't need any criticism at the moment.

"If you believe in God, pray," Sarah quipped. "And if you don't believe in God, ask a friend to pray."

"Ha ha," April muttered.

Sarah spooned out a large dollop of the salad onto the toasted bread, filled April's favorite bowl with the canned soup and set the meal in front of April.

"Thank you," April muttered.

The rest of the tuna salad, Sarah simply spooned out onto a bed of lettuce and the two ate in silence.

April was obviously uneasy being alone; she followed Sarah into her bedroom and kept up a running monologue while Sarah pedaled her way through a thirty five minute work-out. Sarah was sure April would have followed her into the bathroom if she had let her, but Sarah firmly shut the door.

After her quick masturbation and shower, Sarah let herself out of the bathroom. It was almost a relief to smell the smoke coming from April's bedroom. At least she'd have a little peace and quiet now.

Chapter 6

Siegel Recycling Services in Baylor Lake, Louisiana, obviously did not talk with Gil, April's former boss at Domino's Pizza. She was hired only two days after submitting her resume and application. She was hired to work from three o'clock until nine o'clock, Tuesday through Saturday and found it to be hot, sweaty, sticky work.

Her immediate supervisor, Janelle Young spent most of her time in the small office, either chatting, texting, or playing games on her phone. After the third day of being all but ignored by the supervisor, April asked Robert Menendez how Janelle had ever been made a manager.

Robert looked very pointedly at April's flat chest, looked through the window of the small office at Janelle's impressive chest, then smirked, "You tell me."

At the apartment, Sarah was very happy with April's new job. The hours were perfect; April would usually be leaving just as Sarah got home from classes. Sarah would force herself to wait, filling her time with homework and studying.

Then , when she knew she couldn't wait any longer Sarah would make sure the front door was securely locked. She would go into her bedroom, lock the door and jam the rubber stopper underneath the door, strip out of her clothing, put on her cute socks and athletic shoes and jump on her bike. Her pussy would already be drooling; her lips fully engorged, her clitoris pulsing with excitement.

Sarah wished the odometer had not been maxed out at 99,999and 9/10th miles; she would have loved to know how far she had ridden the bike.

"About a thousand orgasms," she giggled as she now started out at level 2.

She could take the bike to level 4 but only for a few moments, only for one orgasm.

But her workouts were now thirty to forty minutes long and she wasn't a shaky wreck after she finished.

Then, she would pull her robe tightly around herself, open her bedroom door, and check very carefully that April was not home, then she would take her bubble bath for more masturbation.

She would sit on the floor of the tub, still quite fleshy buttocks pressed firmly against the wall of the tub, legs stretching up the wall of the enclosure.

Then she would turn on the faucet. The first blast of cold water was always a shock when it splashed onto her hairless pussy, but then the nearly scalding water would pummel her pussy into a series of orgasms.

Sarah even liked smearing the bubble bath concentrate onto her mound, letting the bubbles foam up around her sensitive crotch.

Finally, when she was in danger of drowning under the bubbles, she would use her strong leg muscles to push herself back away from the wall, until she was sitting up in the sudsy water.

Most of the time, Sarah would be satiated after her bath. Sometimes though, after a dinner, a dinner that consisted mainly of vegetables and no carbohydrates, Sarah would get the overwhelming urge to take her bicycle for another spin.

On Sundays and Mondays, April's days off, Sarah would nearly crawl out of her skin; she wanted to masturbate, wanted to ride her bicycle. But on Sundays and Mondays, Sarah would have to limit herself to just one thirty minute work out and a quick shower afterward. April didn't help, seeming to be in no mood to go anywhere or do anything other than sit around all day in her football jersey and smoking obscene amounts of marijuana.

"Man, Sarah, you're really looking good!" April commented one Monday as Sarah came home from class.

"What?" Sarah asked pausing at the door of the kitchen. "What you mean?"

"Your legs and your butt," April said.

Sarah tried to look at her rear end in her short skirt, then shrugged.

"Ass is still too big," she corrected.

"No it's not; I'd kill to have your butt," April said then went back to watching a talk show.

Sarah made a quick fruit salad, made sure to make a little extra for April, who had chipped in forty dollars toward their groceries and joined April on the couch.

"What are you watching," she asked, face screwed up in confusion.

"Oh, this is that guy, oh damn it, Rodney Prejean," April said as a young woman, face pixilated out of focus, voice electronically modulated talked about sex with her brother.

"This is disgusting!" Sarah declared as the girl defended their actions.

"Honey, sex is sex," Rodney smugly told the girl. "Just because he did it in your rear end instead of your vagina doesn't make it okay."

"But you can't get pregnant," she defended.

"We'll be right back; next, her brother will be joining us here in our studio," Rodney told the camera. "Later, we'll hear from their father. I wonder if HE thinks anal sex is okay."

Disgusting or not, Sarah stayed and watched the entire show with April. No, the father did not think that anal sex was okay. Another girl admitted to having a lesbian relationship with her sister and their mother forgave her. The sister could not join them; she being deceased from an automobile accident.

"Tomorrow, we'll be taking a look inside the world of exotic dancers," Rodney told the camera. "We'll be joined by dancers from The Dead End, Mickey's, and Elegante. They'll talk about what it's like to take their clothes off in front of strangers and maybe we can get them to give us a little demonstration of their skills, huh? How about that?"

"Oh, April, really?" Sarah asked as April grabbed the remote control and set it to record the next day's show.

"What?" April asked, blushing hotly.

Sarah laughed softly and went to her room.

Twenty minutes into her studying, Sarah could smell the smoke seeping out of April's room. Her clothes came off as soon as she could make sure the bedroom door was locked and she frantically cycled to orgasm.

The seat rasped deliciously against her splayed pussy lips and mashed her clitoris hard.

She finished off her exercise with a ten minute rowing exercise, giving herself two more orgasms.

She slid her shoes off, then gathered her robe and pajamas, her filmy pink harem outfit and went to the bathroom.

Reaching underneath the sink, Sarah remembered that she was out of baby oil. Thankfully, she had bought a bottle; it was in her bedroom, on her desk.

She entered her bedroom, only to see April kneeling next to her exercise bike, frantically rubbing her pussy while sucking on her leather saddle.

"Wha... Wha..." Sarah stammered, shocked.

"Oh no!" April moaned.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, shocked.

"Tasting you," April sobbed, hand still pressed to her pussy.

Sarah sat on the foot of her bed, staring at April.

She was nude, football jersey pooled at the front of her bike. Her small nipples looked red and raw; April must have been pinching and pulling them while her other hand rubbed her pussy.

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

"Don't say... Just let me taste you," April begged.

Sarah sat, looking at the hotly blushing, sobbing girl. After a long moment, she got to her feet.

April immediately went back to sucking at the leather saddle. Sarah closed and locked the bedroom door, then hung up her robe.

"Here," she said, pushing April's head out of the way as she straddled the saddle.

"Oh!" April moaned and tried to jam her tongue in between Sarah's legs.

Both girls moaned in frustration.

"Let's..." April said and walked on her knees to kneel behind Sarah.

"Oh!" Sarah gasped as she felt April's tongue lick frantically at her anus.

She leaned forward, pushing the handlebars far forward. This maneuver opened her rectum slightly and April wormed her tongue into Sarah's anus as far as she could.

Her fingers reached underneath and slid in and out of Sarah's spread pussy.

"Fuck!" Sarah cried out in orgasm.

"Oh God!" April cried out as her own orgasm came on strong.

After a second, powerful orgasm, Sarah couldn't take any more of the leather saddle's roughness and slithered off of the bike. April frantically followed, lapping and fingering at Sarah's ass and pussy as Sarah crawled onto her bed.

She knelt on her bed, ass high in the air while April licked and sucked at her rectum, fingers never ceasing their digging inside of her pussy.

"Enough!" Sarah coughed out after another powerful orgasm rippled through her.

She flopped over onto her side.

Sarah swept her stuffed animals onto the floor and pulled herself up to her pillows. April followed, now focusing her hands on Sarah's cone shaped breasts.

"Maria know you..." Sarah asked, putting an arm weakly over April's bony hip.

"Yeah," April admitted. "We'd get all fucked up, then she'd want to get all freaky."

"Freak..." Sarah started to ask.

"Yeah, she um..." April said then looked away, heavy blush on her face.

"She um, she'd tell me what a slut I am and she'd um, she'd um, you know, she'd um..." April mumbled.

She softly patted Sarah's smooth pussy.

"She um, she'd slap my pussy," April said.

"Like..." Sarah asked and lightly slapped April between her legs.

"Harder," April moaned and stuffed her tongue into Sarah's mouth.

Sarah did and April shuddered and moaned.

Epilogue

Sarah managed to slim down to a hundred and twelve pounds; her mother says she's far too skinny.

To make sure she doesn't slip below one twelve, once a week Sarah makes herself a batch of chocolate chip cookies. She also makes herself a dinner of fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

April decided that sifting through other peoples' garbage wasn't for her and began taking classes to get her high school diploma. As soon as she has that in hand, she plans to start attending the University of Louisiana at DeGarde.

April's trial came up and Donald Pellichet got the arresting officer to admit that while April's fingerprints had been on the small bag of marijuana in her purse, the only fingerprints on the bag containing nearly three ounces of meth had belonged to Kenneth Prejean the Third.

"Young lady," Judge Marie Robichaux intoned from the bench. "Consider yourself quite lucky; you were looking at some very serious time. Maybe some power greater than yourself is trying to give you a second chance in life?"

Quitting smoking marijuana cold turkey was much more difficult than April could have ever imagined but she did it. She attends two or three Narcotics Anonymous meetings a week and has a tough as nails NA sponsor that she is working the 12 Steps with.

A month after quitting smoking weed, April came into Sarah's room and showed her that she couldn't button her favorite jeans.

"I need to use the bike," she laughed.

Kenneth Prejean, Kenneth Prejean the Third's grandfather was representing his grandson, until the evidence of the bag of meth was also introduced.

As much as it galled him to admit he was in over his head, Kenneth Prejean enlisted the help of Penny Richards. Even with the high powered attorney at his table, though, Kenneth Prejean the Third was found guilty of possession with intent to distribute and was given eight to twelve years. The best that his attorney could do was have Kenneth serve out his sentence at Toco Hills Medium Security Lockup in west Louisiana.

"That's the best..." he sneered at the stupid bitch his grandfather had wasted his college trust fund on.

"Most intent to distribute go to Angola or Mumphrey; we can still get you over there if you want," she snapped at the arrogant young man.

Marc Whitman continues to be a complete mystery to his next-door neighbors. Is he gay? Is he straight? Is he one of those oddities; an asexual being?

But he continues to gracefully accept the occasional chocolate chip cookie plate from Sarah, and continues to assist his neighbors when they need it.

He even bought Sarah a new speedometer/odometer for her bike.

April still has her own bedroom although every night is spent in Sarah's bed. They are lovers but neither will admit it. Neither wants to be the one to say 'love' first.

Xxxx

"Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle, I want to ride my bicycle, Sarah sang out as April pedaled furiously.

"Don't!" April squealed as Sarah tickled at her puckered anus with two spittle laden fingers.

"I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike," Sarah laughed as the two fingers entered April's anus.

"You just wait until it's your turn," April moaned as Sarah fucked the two fingers in and out of her rectum.

"Keep pedaling; you'll never lose the pounds that way," Sarah teased as April had to stop pedaling as her orgasm racked her slight body.

April looked at the odometer when Sarah pulled the two fingers out and sucked them clean.

"Oh well, Ten miles? I was finished anyway," she giggled and got to shaky legs.

She pointed to her hairless crotch.

"You were right, though; it's a lot better without the hair," she said.

"Uh huh; you going to clean it off so I can use it now?" Sarah ordered as she started to shimmy out of her clothing.

April knelt down and began to suck the leather saddle clean of her juices.

She squealed as Sarah knelt behind her and slapped her drooling pussy with a loud 'smack.' Sarah slapped and slapped until April grunted in orgasm.

The End.

*****

Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment.

Thank you for reading my stories.

Yes, I need an Editor.

Yes, it jumps around too much.

Yes, there's too many people to keep track of.

Yes, this is stupid shit.

Yes, I suck.

And you have yourself a super sparkly day.



Tour Guides



One of the great things about living single in Manhattan is the over-active social scene. There are bars, clubs, parties here to cater to any desire imaginable, cuisine from all over the world, and the world's best entertainment options. Of course, this scene draws visitors like moths to a flame. Case in Point: Amy and Michelle. My company's budgeting process required coordination between my group and these two Marketeers, both of whom decided these meetings were better held here than in our Corporate HQ. An email from Michelle explained the "airfares require a Saturday night stay", that she and Amy would make a weekend of it, and would I like to join them for a night on the town, the Saturday before our meetings? Great... I have what I would call a passing professional relationship with both women: I have been in meeting with them, but I would have been hard-pressed to give anything more than a general impression of either woman. I could not remember if either one was married, had a boyfriend (or girlfriend for that matter), or much of anything about either woman. I resigned myself to having a fun evening of drinks, exchanging company gossip, and setting the stage for productive meetings later in the week.

We had decided to meet for drinks in their hotel bar sometime around 10:00. I decided to play the penultimate NYC Girl with a somewhat conservative edge, so I dressed in a little black dress and not-quite-fuck-me pumps, with black seamed thigh-highs completing the look. Underneath it all, I wore a matching thong and strapless bra, also in black. I did not expect anyone would actually see what I had on under the dress, but the small thrill I got from dressing up a bit would make up for the evening talking shop. 

I walked into the lounge, quickly spotted them, and almost as fast noticed I was already at a two-drink deficit. Turns out they came down from their rooms around 9:00, when the place was deserted, which at least ensured we had a prime location at the bar. We exchanged kiss-hug pleasantries, then I joined them and I added my drink to their standing order. They complimented my dress, how well I looked, and both agreed NYC agreed with my disposition. Both Michelle and Amy dressed to impress, both had on skirts with drops higher than my dress, with Michelle going for the fun and flirty look while Amy deciding a tight skirt just what her hips needed. I laughed a bit when I remembered I originally I thought I needed to tone things down a notch or two!

It also became apparent to me they had no interest in talking shop, either. What did become apparent was that both wanted a "Sex and the City" kind of evening. While not against such a thing in principle, in fact I dislike mingling my personal and professional lives. While it would have been great to go to a club, meet some cute guys, make them buy us drinks, and let them in our panties; I did not want such tales to travel back around the company campfire, which is what I feared would happen with these two. And I did not want to have Monday morning meeting with them, having seen them hook up on Saturday evening.

Of course, Amy managed to start flirting with a couple of admittedly cute bridge and tunnel boys sitting on the right side of us. When Michelle joined in pointing their attention in another direction, I looked around the bar and began a countdown until I could make my escape. Just as I was bringing my drink to my lips, my stationary hips collided with someone else's hips, and I just barely managed to get the upturned drink away from my dress. I turned to my left; ready to throw my death-stare at whoever intruded on my space, when a hand went to my shoulder and a feminine voice called out an apology to me. I had to look up to meet her very open and deep brown eyes, relented my death-stare, and returned her smile. She turned back to her friends, and I turned back to my drink.

Amy's boy noticed I had almost spilled my drink, and decided he needed to announce my apparent inebriation to anyone within earshot: "Whoops! Someone has a drinking problem!"

Amy came to my quick defense, telling him "That's Susan. She's our tour guide." Thanks, Amy. "She lives here." She continued by way of explanation.

"Oh, really," said the taller of the B&T Boys, "where do you live?"

"Hell's Kitchen," I answered back, somewhat miffed I had been drawn into this mating dance, then asked "And you two?"

"Yeah... we both live over in Hoboken. We have a great view of Manhattan, just can't see paying those Manhattan rents" came back his answer.

How nice, I thought: You have a great view of a place you cannot afford. I was thinking of something nice to say about New Jersey when his friend joined in with, "Sounds like you two are paying her too much!"

I bit my tongue, smiled at his joke, and quickly turned back to the bar. Just as the next drink appeared, I felt another nudge on my hip. The same woman as before stood there, obviously nudging me on purpose. She had turned from her friends a bit, as I had from mine, smiled again, and asked, "Are we having fun yet?"

I gave her another look. I would put her somewhere in her 40's, with a very elegant edge to her. She wore her well-coiffed hair off the shoulder, had on this shiny black halter-top with mesh sleeves, and a straight-line leather mini, all of which fit her very curvy form like a glove. She wore tall black leather boots with a spike heel; even without them she had a couple inches on me, with her boots she seemed to tower above me. She also held my gaze, nodded her head towards me, and had the best smile I had seen that evening. Yes, I took notice of her.

I took another look over her shoulder to find her friends now passing pictures amongst themselves. One of them called her by name, and Mari returned to their fold.

"I think you need to go." I laughed and turned back to Amy and Michelle.

"Susan, who was that?" asked Michelle.

"Another tour guide" came back my reply, but I do not think Michelle minded my answer, considering the hand now placed on her thigh. Amy seemed equally into her new friend, as I continued nursing my drink with studied disinterest.

I looked over my shoulder to catch Mari's eye, when I did I smiled and got one back. I turned back to my drink and thought "Oh, if only..." Apparently, Mari shared my thoughts, as soon I felt her hip nudge against mine. Again. This time the contact was less a bump than it was a very nice rub. Turning my attention back to Amy and Michelle, making sure they had not noticed my flirtation with Mari, I pushed back a bit, and Mari kept contact between her ass and mine.

I returned to the conversation between Amy, Michelle, and their admirers. Loud laughs came and went as they made comparisons between the East and West coasts, and I added my thoughts as someone living a bicoastal lifestyle. The boys were now mentioning various and sundry bars in the area, seeking to show my colleagues a bit more of the Manhattan nightlife. When asked I added my thoughts and silently counted my lucky stars all four of them would soon be on their way. All I needed to do was find my moment to make a graceful exit.

Mari and her group of friends must have had the same thought. As she passed by, she did look over her shoulder, right at me, raised her eyebrow in a questioning look and smiled. I smiled, rolled my eyes a bit before I nodded to my friends, and turned back to Amy and Michelle.

Sans distraction, I had little choice but to listen to the boys work their charm on Amy and Michelle. By now, they had all settled on next going to a champagne bar just down the street from their hotel. I remembered that old rhyme, that champagne making girls dance and drop their pants, noticed how everyone was getting very chummy, and hoped neither Amy nor Michelle would have too great a hangover, or too many regrets, the next morning.

I walked with them to the door, right up to the taxi stand, where I found Mari and her friends still saying their goodbyes. Amy, Michelle, and the boys were moving past the entrance towards the champagne bar. I looked at Mari, who threw me a sidelong glance, discreetly nodding her head in the opposite direction. I stood there, evaluating Mari. She stood in profile to me, her hand on her hip, her breasts looking fabulous as they strained against her top, and her very long legs giving me very wicked thoughts. I had this insane desire, right at that very moment, to walk up to her and kiss her. I felt a familiar sensation deep in my tummy, traveling down between my legs and back. I placed my hand on my tummy, called Amy and Michelle back, told them I was not feeling well, but that I hoped they had a great time. Michelle called Amy over, we all exchanged kisses and hugs; I gave the boys the "Nice to meet you!" line, and they were off.

I waited until they turned the corner then turned towards Mari. I went over to the taxi stand, stood back while Mari said goodbye to the last of her friends, and stood next to her. She gave me a look, the same one I imagine spiders give their prey, and asked if I wanted to share a cab with her. Of course, I did. She gave the driver the name of another hotel, and we grandly moved from TriBeCa to SoHo.

"You're Susan" she said by way of introduction.

"You're Mari" I answered back.

Soon we were at our destination. We went in and up the stairs to the very crowded bar. Somehow, she managed to spot a couple of seats in the corner as we stepping past the fashionistas and metrosexuals in permanent residence. Within seconds, she had the bartender's eye and we had a couple of drinks in front of us.

"I'm glad you followed my lead," were her first words, once we had our drinks.

"You seem very pleased with yourself" I shot back.

She liked that answer. She threw her head back and laughed, then brought her glass up to toast "To new friends".

I clinked my glass to hers and drank to that. She placed her hand on my back. It felt good there. After spending the first part of the evening as the apparently overpaid tour guide to a couple of vacationing colleagues, it felt good to have her very warm hand on my bare shoulder. I craned my neck back, took another sip of my drink, and told her "That feels nice".

She grabbed her drink with her other hand, leaving one on me, and we toasted the joys of out of town visitors. I asked about her friends, was there a specific occasion, filling the silence with meaningless questions. She answered my questions, explaining that her friends were down from Westchester for a "girls night out", and somehow managed to edge closer and move her hand from my shoulder to my thigh, and kept her eyes on me as best she could. I liked her. She looked fabulous, had a great touch, I was enjoying her seducing me. I lifted my chin, and turned my entire body to her.

In a way, I presented myself to her; in a way, by my openness I invited her to open to me. She did. She flipped her shoulder-length brown hair back from her eyes and continued. She is an executive for a cosmetics company, a part owner in a downtown gallery, a devoted practitioner of yoga, and has a SoHo loft. Tales of travel to India and Bali rounded out her tale, ending with her happily in NYC these past 15 years. She is as cultured as she is elegant, and exceedingly attractive to boot. 

She listened to me as I told her the basics of my life. I told her I am divorced, with no kids, and am new to New York. That I enjoy the differences between San Francisco and Manhattan, how the former seems quite similar to the latter, and that I enjoy being single.

She asked if I had a boyfriend and I said no with a slight chuckle. That caught her notice, and then asked if I had a girlfriend. I told her no by shaking my head and smiling.

"Are you through with men, Susan? She asked.

"No, " I answered, "men are an itch I scratch."

She liked that answer. I placed my hand on hers and crossed my legs. I asked her the same thing, she hesitated a moment before she answered. She did have a man in her life, though was not married. I see...

"Where is he this evening?" I asked.

"Girls have girls night out, boys have boys night out" she answered in a very direct tone, then continued, "He has his life and I have mine."

"What would he think if he came in here now and saw you with me?" I asked, wishing to avoid the drama of a jealous boyfriend.

"Oh, he would love it!" came back her answer; almost in surprise that I would think otherwise. She gave me a very even look, which told me she has no issues with having a boyfriend and dating women, and I let the matter drop. We shared a few more thoughts and laughs, and even a quick kiss when her head moved closer to mine, before she asked if I would like to see her loft. Yes, I would.

It was a quick enough walk from the bar to her place. She flipped on the lights, turned on some music, and motioned me over to the kitchen bar. She walked over to the kitchen area, I stood on the other side of the kitchen bar, while she selected a chilled bottle of wine, pulled down a couple of glasses, and poured us yet another drink. We both smacked our lips, then she walked around the bar stood next to me, and we kissed. I had wanted to do that for some time and it showed. She has a very wide mouth, which I like, and I loved opening my mouth to hers. She tasted fabulous, the combination of her spicy dinner still apparent as was the vodka and wine. Her tongue felt fabulous in my mouth, and I liked that I needed to crane my neck back while she held and kissed me.

Her hands moving along my shoulders to my breasts and down to my hips all as I stood pushed back against the bar. She grabbed my hands and placed them on her very ample breasts while I kissed her neck. Her hands went behind my head and she pulled my mouth deeper into her neck and shoulder. Her hands running down my back soon met the top of my dress. She felt long enough to notice the back hook and zipper while my hands went around her back to her hips and to the waist of her skirt. Both of us wanting to undress each other, but neither of us wanted to break our embrace. She had managed to unhook my dress and was pulling the zipper from the fabric when the ringing phone ruined our moment.

Gee, I wonder who that could be.

Mari broke our embrace and moved to answer her phone. I understood: If she did not answer then he would leave a message, and the unnamed boyfriend would take shape in our thoughts. I would hear his voice, I would know something about him, and for right now, Mari wanted to keep that to herself. I did not like it but I understood.

She answered the phone as I turned back to my glass of wine. She told him about her evening, the highlights of the dinner conversation, and drinks after. While she talked, she placed her hand on my shoulder maintaining physical contact with me while she asked about his evening. Her fingers and nails traced along my shoulders and down my spine as she chatted away. I arched my back to show my approval and continued sipping my wine. I found myself very turned on by her keeping her boyfriend in limbo while continuing her seduction of me.

She stepped things up a notch. I felt her fingers search in my dress for the zipper, seeking to pull it down and continue undressing me. I could feel my body react to her bold move, I felt my tummy tighten, my head went back a bit, and my pussy gave off a very familiar tingle. My reaction surprised me, that I would find it erotic her undressing me while on the phone with him. Soon she did find the zipper and pulled it down to where it ended at the small of my back. She opened my dress, tracing patterns with her fingers as she went. All while she listened as her boyfriend told her about his night. Her fingers reached the hook of my strapless bra, and the nimble fingers from one hand unhooked my bra.

Keeping her boyfriend going, she turned me to face her. Pulling my arms to my front, she the straps over my shoulders and pulled the dress down my front to my waist. Apparently, he asked her if he could come over, she told him she was just about to go to bed when she pulled my bra from my body and let it fall to the floor. She cupped each breast in turn, as she told him to stop pouting, that she would see him the next evening. She moved close enough for me to smell the sweet wine on her breath. Her free hand moved down my front, to where the dress had gathered around my waist. I could tell from her smile that she was enjoying this interlude as much as I was. She began pulling my dress over my hips until it fell to around my feet lying next to my discarded bra.

I gingerly stepped out of the dress, careful not to make too much noise with my heels on her hardwood floors. Once again leaning back against the counter, I slightly parted my legs wondering just how far Mari would play this game. Her self-confidence grew as she first took a sip of wine, then dipped a finger into the glass and brought her finger to my mouth. She rocked her finger back and forth on my tongue, sliding it in and out of my mouth, before pulling her finger out, and tracing it down between my breasts to my tummy. She again told him he could not come by her place, telling him he needed to be patient. Her finger went over my panties to my crotch she told him patience pays its own rewards. He must have asked what that meant as she next told him she might have a surprise for him sometime soon. As she said that, her finger started rubbing my pussy through my panties, which made me suppress a slight moan. My hands went to her hand between my legs, and I kept her stroking to a manageable tempo. Her smile and light laugh indicated she was quite pleased with herself.

She broke contact again to hand me my glass of wine, which I took into my hands and then took a very liberal sip. The wine hit my tongue like a thunderclap, my head somewhat spinning from all of this. Here I stood in front of a lovely woman I met not three hours back, clad only in a heels, thigh-highs, and a thong, waiting for her to end her conversation with her boyfriend so she and I could have sex. More amazing than that was how at ease I felt with all of this. Mari took a step back and made a sweeping motion to some screens at the far end of her loft. She motioned me to her bedroom. I flipped my hair back, grabbed her glass of wine, and took both across the room to her bed. I could feel her eyes on my legs and ass as I walked past her living area to her bed. He must have noticed the sound of my heels, as she had to explain to him she was turning out lights and locking up for the night.

Once behind the screen, I slipped off my heels placed the glasses of wine on her nightstand, and lay back on her bed. I could hear her moving around, this time she really was locking up, dimming the lights, and then appeared from behind the screens at the foot of her bed holding on to my dress and bra. Looking at me lying on her bed she told him, she really needed to get to bed. He was not taking the hint as she remained on the phone listening to his voice while her eyes moved up and down my body. She laughed and rolled her eyes as he started another discussion with her, so I decided it was my turn to up the ante. With her watching me, I pulled my legs up and apart as my hands massaged my breasts and pinched my nipples. My left hand went to my mouth, I started licking and sucking my own fingers, while my right hand moved down my tummy to my legs. Keeping my eyes on hers, I started stroking my pussy through my panties. I smiled both at her and when I found my clit through my panties. I arched my back, moved my left hand back to my breasts, pulling my nipples, inviting her all the time to join me.

For the first time that evening, her façade broke and she actually bit her lip in frustration while watching me. I giggled but kept at it. She made a movement with her hand, willing me to pull my panties off, which I answered by shaking my head and mouthing to her she could very well do that herself. She actually had to turn her back to me, to stop looking at me, and took a more severe tone when telling her boyfriend she would call him in the morning. Finally it seemed he took the hint as she bade him a good night and clicked the phone off.




Tour Guides



I lay back on the bed, stretching as I did so, and asked her if she enjoyed this little session of phone sex just ended. She flashed me a somewhat annoyed smile and playfully threw my bra at me. I dropped it to the floor by my shoes.

"You are a handful," she said, moving across the room to her closet. "I didn't hear you objecting much."

"No, I didn't" I purred, moving to my side to face her. "Are you going to tell me his name?"

"You'll learn it soon enough" she threw back over her shoulder, facing her closet as she thoughtfully hung my dress for me.

I propped my head on my hand, considered her comment, more than content for the moment to watch her undress. Her top came first, giving me a very good view of her toned and lithe back. She undid the collar snap, peeled the front away from her, and pulled the fabric around to unsnap the rest of it. She had not worn a bra. Around came her skirt, which she unzipped and pushed it over her hips. Like me, she wore a thong, hers in silk and mine in lace. She had a fabulous, fleshy, curvy ass. All that yoga produced a nicely toned body, and Mari proudly turned around showing me her body. Still wearing her boots, she moved to climb on her bed.

"Aren't you going to take those off?" I asked, nodding to her boots.

"No Susan, you are." She said, placing one knee on the bed.

I rolled onto my back and opened my arms to her. She came over to me on her hands and knees straddling me. I liked the feeling of her boots against my thighs, still clad in stockings. She moved her hands over mine, pinning me down, and began slowly rubbing her nipples over mine. Her breasts are bigger than mine are, with smaller nipples that soon became hard upon contact with mine. She swayed back and forth enjoying the sensation before she leaned forward and kissed me. She gave me a very deep kiss, silently feeling her tongue on my teeth and tongue, even with her sliding her tongue deep into my mouth. I started sucking on her tongue trying to pull her deeper into my mouth. She enjoyed this, fucking my mouth with her tongue, as her saliva freely flowed into my mouth. I loved it.

Breathlessly, she broke her kiss and sat back on my hips. She let her hands fall from my hands over my shoulders to my breasts. She took each nipple between her thumb and forefinger and began pinching my nipples. I reached up and gently felt her breasts, first with my fingers and then feeling the weight of her breasts with the palms of my hands. I loved her soft skin, I loved how she felt, how she touched me, being in her bed, everything. Her hands moved from my breasts do down my tummy. When she reached the edge of my panties she moved off, knelt by my side, and began pulling them over my hips. I lifted my ass off the bed then lifted my legs up to help her. The panties joined my bra and shoes in a pile by her bed.

She ran one hand back up my leg, pulling one leg apart from the other, exposing my cunt. Her hand cupped me, her fingers parting my lips; I could feel her massage my lips open and feel her coat her fingers with my moisture. I moved my hand to her thigh, letting it rest there, responding to her touch. She began rubbing my clit as she lowered her breasts to my mouth. I used one hand to guide her right breast to my mouth, and began licking and sucking her nipple, keeping time with the rhythm she kept on my clit. I moved my other hand under her body, over her tummy and between her legs. Mari, sensing what I wanted, parted her legs while continuing to rub my clit. I traced along the edge of her panties, feeling again the softness of her skin, and feeling the heat emanating from between her legs. I could hear her moan as my fingers began massaging her pussy. Based on the heat and moisture I felt through the silk fabric of her thong, our entire phone sex escapade had caused her great excitement as well. I moved my fingers to slip under the edge of her panties but she though better of this and quickly rolled over to her back.

I moved to my knees, placing myself between her legs. She playfully put the soles of her boots against my thighs, placed her knees together, and placed her hands over her breasts. I laughed at her suddenly demure exterior and placed my hands on her knees, intent on spreading her legs. She kept her legs together, rubbing the soles of her boots against my stockings, probably snagging and ripping them in the process. It was not the first time I had sacrificed stockings or hose in the name of fun, and would probably not be the last. With a stretch and an arch of her back, she opened her legs for me, inviting my hands down her legs in the process. My hands smoothed down the inside of her thighs to the V of her panties. Mari's eyes kept watch on me as I moved my hands under her ass, which she lifted her ass off the bed as I had mine for her, grabbed the waist of her panties and pulled them over her hips then off her legs. She rested her spread legs back on either side of mine while I took my first look at her ripe wet cunt.

"Aren't you going to take my boots off, too?" She asked, causing me to move my eyes from her pussy, over her flat tummy, between her very full breasts, to her eyes.

"I like them. They look good on you." I answered, positioning myself lower on the bed, intent on lowering my mouth to her cunt. Truthfully, I suspected she has a certain kinky edge to her passions, which I liked. Holding her legs apart, I began kissing each thigh in turn, taking my time as I moved further up her body. Curiously, she kept still as I moved my mouth up her legs. This changed as I began licking the crease between her thigh and crotch as she placed one hand on the back of my head and guided my mouth to her pussy.

She had a delicious scent. I pursed my lips over hers and kissed the entire length of her cunt. Taking special attention, I took one lip at a time, sucking it gently into my mouth, and pulled them apart exposing more of her to me, and coating more of my mouth with her taste. How wet she was did not surprise me at all, as I had the same reaction to the buildup to this very moment. I penetrated her with my tongue, pulled back, and flat-tongue licked from the base of her cunt to over her exposed and ever-growing clit. She still had her hand in my hair, had propped her head on a pillow, and kept her eyes on me the entire time. I locked eyes on hers as I pointed my tongue and felt my way to her clit. Tickling her like that, she became just a little flushed and I loved watching her mouth part open and her breasts rise and fall as her breathing quickened pace.

I caught myself smiling while I continued teasing her clit, until with a pull of her hand against my head and a "Susan, please..." she bade me to continue. Ever so gladly, did I take her wish and turn it into my command.

I lowered my mouth back to her cunt; I just could not resist teasing her a bit more. Down strokes on her lips soon brought my nose to her clit letting me deeply inhale her scent as my tongue went below the base of her cunt to her perineum. Letting my saliva gather on my tongue and pressing harder signaled my desire to move my tongue lower, to see if her desired matched hers. They did. She lifted her legs up just enough to let my tongue slip between the cheeks of her lovely ass. Gently I let my tongue slide down to caress her ass, just enough to coat her with my saliva. A further treat would have to wait.

Licking back up elicited a moan from her, then and a sharp hiss as I sucked her clit into my mouth. Curling my tongue around her clit produced the most delirious reaction from her yet; her hands went to her breasts and she began pinching and pulling her own nipples. I placed my right-hand middle finger just at the base of her cunt, sliding deeper in her as she rocked her hips back and forth. Soon enough I managed my ring finger as well, then turning my hand over searching to massage that sweet little bundle of nerves which I knew would send her to the moon. Wanting to give her a completely filling experience, I quickly licked my left hand's middle finger, slowly traced down from her very wet cunt, and gently pressed it against her ass. Gently, slowly, smoothly, I let the lubrication from her cunt and my mouth work its magic as my finger eased surprisingly deep into her ass. With both her hands on my head, with her fingers in my hair, she pulled all of me deeper between her legs.

Focusing all my energies on her, my world reduced to nothing more than synchronizing the rhythm of my fingers and tongue. Her ass began gripping my finger, which did not deter my motion at all. Finding, and massaging, her wonderful spot deep in her pussy made her clench even tighter, for all the good it did considering how she coated my hand. I kept my finger in her ass as deep as possible, content to grab the outside of her ass with the rest of my hand. With her clit pulsing and twitching, never once loosing contact between it and my tongue, I sucked her even deeper into my mouth. She moved as well, matching her rocking with my motions. Sensing rather than feeling her buildup to a very deep orgasm made my fingers act on their own, massaging and pulling along her spot, wiling her to explode in my mouth. With a deep inhale and a flush her cunt gave my fingers one final inward clench, then distended and opened and flowed into my waiting hand and mouth. Mari, repeatedly moaning my name intertwined with the phrase "Oh, FUCK!" soon calmed enough to lower her legs and catch her breath.

I eased my fingers, first from her ass and then her pussy, and then used my tongue to part and clean her cunt. Pulling up and climbing over her body, taking a quick look at her body covered in a thin sheen of her own perspiration, I fell into her outstretched arms and kissed her. Her energy returned, her tongue moved deeper into my mouth, and her hands went to my ass. While resting all my weight on her body, I cradled her head in my hands, and resolved I had never kissed a more passionate woman in my entire existence.

We both needed a little breather after that shared moment, and we rolled to our sides facing each other. Licking my lips and smiling, I stifled a laugh thinking how I managed to turn the globetrotting sophisticate into the greedy slut. The sophisticated one emerged from her fog, noticed my thoughts at her expense, and playfully tweaked my nipple. Her tweak turned to a caress and then a push placing me onto my back. The way she moved over me, the look on her face, how she propped herself up on her left arm, the comfort she had in pressing me to my back: Her bed remained her domain.

She lifted up long enough to pin my right arm under her body, and continued her exploration of my body. Words formed in my mind, then caught in my throat as her exploration turned into a form of inspection. Focusing on each breast in turn, her fingers circling round each one before pulling up and rolling my nipple between thumb and forefinger. I opened my legs as she moved from one breast to the other and sought, with my left hand, to touch myself. She stopped her touching long enough to move my hand to the side, admonishing me with a look to keep it there. Her nails drew circled ever lower on my tummy. She went over my hips; back up along the side of my body, never once touching my pussy. Finally, she smoothed her over my tummy and pushed her hand until her palm covered my pussy.

"Why do you shave your pussy?" she asked, seeming to notice for the first time my bare cunt. Mine stood in contrast to hers; while we both kept our lips bare, she kept her pussy trimmed to a very sexy triangle.

"It's the summer," I said, "it feels better in all this humidity."

"Why else?" She asked, now grinding her palm a bit harder against me.

"It feels better," I confessed, "when I am having sex."

"Yes." She agreed, sliding a finger between my lips. "And...?"

"I like how it looks, I like how exposed I feel," I continued, almost blushing as I did so.

She pulled her finger up my cunt then, resting her fingertip against my clit. She managed somehow during all of this to slide her left arm under me, cradling me in her embrace. She kept on rubbing my clit with her finger, easing her body up against mine. I closed my eyes, letting the music and the heat emanating from my clit wash over me. That familiar sensation began, that welling deep within me, that reservoir filling as my breath became shallow and my left hand gripped the sheets under me. She leaned over to kiss and nibble my neck, always a very sensitive spot, she whispered over and over how hot I looked, how wet I was; how much she wanted me to cum for her. Throwing my head back, exposing even more of my neck, I held her and the bed tightly as I did just that. I took in a deep breath, ached my back, and felt the heat and tension from the entire evening find release.

Her hand moved back to cupping my pussy, her fingers gently massaging my cunt, her arms holding me tight, easing me back down to earth. I unclasped the sheets under me and took my left hand to caress the side of her face. Bringing her mouth to mine, we kissed yet again, reconfirming my thoughts about the levels of her passion. She broke our kiss, pulled back a bit, and pulled her hand from between my legs to her mouth. I watched this lewd display, watched her first inhale my scent and then lick the palm of her hand to her fingers. She placed her fingers against my mouth, slid two between my lips, then let me suck and lick the taste of my own arousal and orgasm from her fingers. She trained her hand down to my right breast, cupped it lightly, and gave me a very light kiss.

She rolled away from me, pulled herself to her feet, walked around her bed to her bathroom. Left alone for the moment, I sat up and swung my feet to the floor. Yes, the soles of her boots had indeed put runs in my stocking, but I was beyond caring. Besides, I was enjoying the trashy look of wearing torn stockings. She emerged from her bathroom, still wearing her boots, looking glorious. She extended her hand, pulled me to my feet, and told me to take my time as I trod off to her bathroom.

The glare of the lights disoriented me for a moment, before I went to the sink and used the glass to gulp down some water. Examining myself in the mirror, I looked none the worse for the wear, and edged over to relieve the pressure from the many drinks and the wine. Freshening up with some mouthwash by her sink, I turned, opened the door and turned off the lights, and re-emerged into her bedroom area.

She stood with her back to me. An initial glance seemed to reveal she had used our intermission to slip back into her thong, as there were black stripes along her hips and down between the cheeks of her ass, joining into a "Y" at the base of her spine. What belied this first impression was noticing her hands were at her right side, cinching the strap of her dildo harness. I suppose I should have been surprised, yet I think I would have been even more surprised to find out she did not have such things in her closet. Either way, my cunt answered the trepidation in my step by giving off an excited and involuntary twitch.

"You're back," she said as she turned in profile to me. I recognized the black and white marbled tone of her Nexus dildo, meaning the harness holding this uniquely curved double-ended dildo also kept one end firmly nestled deep within her cunt. She reached over and emptied the last of the wine her glass, and motioned me to do the same. I gladly complied.

I told her she needed to go slow, to go easy; that after I orgasm from clitoral stimulation alone, without anything in my pussy, oftentimes my cunt tightens up. I felt just such tightness now, though for some reason I did not tell her that, nor did I tell her I was not interested.

"Do you also dry up?" she asked, opening the nightstand drawer and pulling out a tube of lubrication.

"No" I said, and even as I answered her question, I clenched yet again, and I felt my cunt produce even more of its own lubrication. She checked her appearance in the cheval mirror between the nightstand and her closet, and then turned around to walk to the end of the bed, her femme-cock bobbing up and down as she moved. I could tell from how she walked she enjoyed feeling her end move in her, and I noticed she kept her boots on, probably because they matched her leather harness.

"I'll still use lubrication," she said and motioning to the bed continued: "Now be a good girl and get on your hands and knees."

I did as she asked, climbing on the bed facing the wall and presenting my cunt to her. She knelt behind me; using her swinging dildo, she delivered a few playful spanks to my ass. It felt good; I moaned a bit and hollowed my back, exposing even more of my cunt and ass to her. Of course, she took notice; of course, I wanted her too; of course, she delivered to my ass a few well-placed spanks with her right hand.

"You like spankings." She said as a declaration, and not a question, making a mental note of this.

I do like spankings. I like showing my ass to my lover, asking them with my body language and position to spank me, feeling their hand smack my ass, feeling my ass turn red with the heat and sting from their hand. I had thoughts of how natural this all felt: To meet a woman in a bar, to let her pick me up, to end up nude and on my hands and knees while she spanked me, while she prepared to fuck me with her strapped on femme-cock. I turned to the side, noticed how perfectly the cheval mirror framed her in my vision. I watched while she unsnapped the cap on the tube of lubrication, squeezed out a liberal amount on her femme-cock, and began stroking up and down; doing all this with her left hand while her right hand delivered stinging slaps to the left and right sides of my ass. She continued with her gender-fuck, almost absentmindedly stroking her femme-cock while spanking my ass with increased intensity. Mari took notice of my gaze, hesitated for nary a moment, then used her left hand to apply lubrication to my cunt. With a narrowing of her eyes, she began again stinging my upturned ass with what were quickly becoming vicious spanks. Her fingers penetrated my cunt as she continued the spanking, noticing I am sure my clenching each time just before her hand landed on my ass.

"You do get tight," Mari noticed, "but your cunt will be fine, won't it?"

My senses noticed everything: My ears hearing her purring voice, the sounds of the music, the wet slurping of her fingers in my cunt, the slap of her hand on my ass. My nose inhaling her arousal and mine, mixed with the pungent aroma of her leather harness and the sickly sweet of the lubrication. My body feeling three of her fingers opening me, the rosy red glow of my well-spanked ass, and the scratchy feeling as my nipples dragged against her sheets. My eyes took all this in, from her eyes to her body to my body and back. My mouth tasted the mint from the mouthwash, the sweet from the wine, the tang of her cunt, and was still thirsty for more. Yes, I thought, I will be fine. I answered her question by laying my head on the bed, my eyes on the mirror reflecting this scene to me, spreading my legs a bit more, and waited for her to fuck me.

Her legs slid between mine, forcing them wider apart. Her left hand pointed her femme-cock straight at my cunt. Mari placed her right hand on my ass and placed the tip just inside my cunt. Both hands on my hips now, she pulled me back in one long slow motion until my cunt spread wide around the flared base of her femme-cock. A low deep moan escaped me. She remained motionless, letting me adjust to her size. All at once, she began her fucking motion slowly letting me feel her length and steadily increasing her tempo. Every so often Mari stopped to grind her hips against my ass; else, she established her rhythm and continued ramming her femme-cock deep into my cunt. The pressure increased, my knees felt weak, and her hands gripped my ass pulling her again and again deep into my cunt. My hands grabbed the sheets around my head as the pressure increased and my long low moan became a series of ululations in time with her increasingly vigorous thrusts. Mari long-stroked me with her femme-cock like a woman possessed, stopping only once long enough to have me grab a pillow that she then placed under my tummy.




Tour Guides



It started again: that reservoir deep within me, filling with the heat of my cunt and the ever-increasing pressure of her thick femme-cock stretching me. I fought this feeling, squeezing my legs in a futile attempt to close them, trying to slow and soften her thrusts. A quick sharp slap of her hand across my ass brought me back to reality, as did her grabbing my hair and pulling my head back, and pulling my mind back to my active participation in this scene as her quite willing fuck-toy. Propping myself up on my elbows, I managed a quick look in the mirror at our bodies in motion: Her grabbing my hair and pulling my head back with one hand, the other propped on her hip providing added leverage, and my body moving on its own volition, my lifting my ass to meet her every thrust. The steady flow became a torrent as my reservoir broke and my orgasm flooded over me. I shook uncontrollably as I came and came, the quickness of these multiple explosions surprising me. It felt like I would never catch my breath, as if the stinging obscene pleasure of this rapturous moment would engulf me, consume me, leave me a physical wreck.

Finally, my knees did give out. I fell to the bed in a heap, my arms folded under my head. Mari merely adjusted her position, pressing her weight against my back, her hands moving up from my ass to my shoulders, pulling me back to her, and furiously continuing fucking me. She took her hands from my shoulders, grabbed at the sides of my breasts until my nipples were in her hands, keeping a steadily increasing pinching pressure on my nipples. She buried her face into my back, first kissing then sucking and biting along my spine, leaving marks as she went. All the while, she kept her passion, her tempo, and her rhythm fucking me, her thrusts turning from vigorous to vicious. Squirming helplessly under her, realizing my convulsing cunt continued betraying me, continued to orgasm in spite of the increasing soreness; I grit my teeth and spread my legs as wide as possible. I resolved I would not let Mari fuck me into submission, that I would not let her outlast me, that she would emerge from this as spent as I was.

Try though she might, she could not resist the ever-increasing pressure deep within her pussy. As she gave indications of slowing, of holding back, I lifted myself from the bed and fucked her back. Soon her bites became short ragged breaths against my back. Her sweaty body kept firm against mine, her breasts solid against my back, her hips pressed against my ass. She grinded against me, rotating her hips against mine, and then finally she gave into the moment and came while bucking wildly against me.

Gingerly, Mari eased her femme-cock from my sore, swollen cunt. She rolled over to her back, stroking my ass with one hand, trying to catch her breath. Somehow, I found the energy to rise up on my knees and looked at her. The look that passed between us spoke volumes: While she remained the dominant one, she had not "made" me beg for any sign of mercy that I knew would never come. Her Nexus stood up straight; one benefit femme-cock definitely has over male cock I thought, still shiny with my passion and fulfillment. I moved to touch it, to lick it, to taste myself on her. I thought better of that, and moved to unbuckle the harness from her body. Keeping the Nexus firmly nestled in her cunt, I pulled the harness from under her then slid the O-ring over the length of her shaft. I grabbed her femme-cock by the base and eased it from her cunt. Her thighs were shiny, and her closely cropped triangle of pubic hair thickly matted, from both her passion and mine. Her cunt, having had almost an energetic a session as had mine, remained slightly gaped. As softly as possible I lowered my mouth to her, nestled between her legs, and tasted her tart pungent pussy. I gently licked and sucked her red swollen cunt, cleaning each lip before I kissed her triangle and pulled back up.

She motioned me to her, first to kiss her, then to lift my body over hers. I sensed her desire, her need to taste me too. Grabbing her headboard for support, I threw one leg over her and straddled her face. I lowered myself to her, soon feeling her kiss my lips then nestle her tongue deep in my cunt. Oh, how I would have enjoyed riding her face, how I would enjoy her licking and sucking me to orgasm, but my body protested the second the pursed her lips and gently sucked on my clit. I rolled off with a little yelp, which brought a smile to her face. She told me she knew exactly how I felt, and I am sure she did.

I finally removed her boots and she pulled the pieces of my stockings off my legs. We soon settled into her bed, with the covers over us, and her spooned against me. Tired as I was, the insomnia caused by strange surroundings and a new lover soon abated, and I fell asleep in her arms.

I woke up with a start. It took me a moment or two to re-orient myself to these strange surroundings, and with my first movement, my body reminded me why I had slept so soundly. I also noticed I was alone. On the nightstand was a tepid cup of coffee and a note from Mari explaining her absence: her boyfriend had called and she was off to have a run then brunch at his place. On the note also were her numbers and email, finishing with her desire for me to call her later that day. She ended the note with a cryptic reference that I may need to call her anyway, in case I forgot anything in her loft. I shrugged it off, availed myself of her bathroom and shower, and re-emerged to dress and leave. I soon decoded the cryptic reference when, as I gathered my things to dress, I noticed only my shoes remained in the pile by the bed, with my dress hung over the screens separating her bedroom area from the rest of the loft. Sneaky bitch... I laughed it off, slipped my dress and shoes back on, grabbed my purse from the kitchen bar, and let myself out. I joined Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda in our search for a cab to take us home after a "Sex and the City" kind of night.

My meetings with Amy and Michelle were subdued, but fine. I suspected something interesting had happened between those two and the bridge and tunnel boys on Saturday evening, but I knew better than to ask. They solicitously asked about my Saturday evening: I flashed them a purposefully enigmatic smile and told them I slept like a babe in her mother's arms.

And yes, I got my things back from Mari, and found out the name of her boyfriend, the night after Amy and Michelle flew back home.



Tour of the Unexpected



A bus. An ordinary bus on an ordinary day. Its not peak hour any more, I've worked late and the time has passed since the heavy tussle that comes with the afternoon. Now things have slowed down with more places to sit on each vehicle. The book I am trying to read isn't good. I look up and about. Such is the world that we live in, few people are doing the same. Even those without a phone to play with or a friend to talk to, stare ahead squarely at nothing, as if real life is a distraction.

A man sits behind me, four seats further back. He catches my eye. Grins. His sea blue eyes are luminous, his stubble unpracticed, and his impromptu happiness breaks an otherwise handsome face into an expression of lopsided mischief. Who wouldn't be hooked? My heart pounds. I look away. The driver breaks unexpectedly and elderly passengers make annoying noises of disapproval as they bend forward, riding the motion, their old bodies like carriages at a rail yard suddenly brought to a halt.

I look out the window to catch a glimpse of my own reflection in the day's fading light and open my face up into a smile. I read somewhere if you are happy enough to smile when no one is watching, you must really mean it. Someone is watching me today. Blue eyes from the back seat makes me self conscious.

A colleague told me I looked like a nurse earlier, my work shirt is blue and white check. It accentuates my breasts and I don't mind that it brings to mind a uniform. I've left the morgue and I like to pretend I have been at an office, working somewhere that smells less like disinfectant and has a view, preferably of water and trees.

Blue eyes focused in my direction cause the hairs on the back of my neck to tingle. A few delicious minutes pass by. I shift in my seat, watch members of the geriatric community pick their way carefully down the aisle and out into the strange, suspended, autumnal sunset on the street, their large, practical handbags held with purpose under fleshy, under-used arms.

I flinch. The man at the back of the bus shows me a dimple and I imagine he might share my sense of humour. I pause to scratch an itch on my leg. My stockings dip under the weight of my nails and I'm careful to alleviate the itch with a featherlight touch. These are my last pair.

Blue eyes gets up from the back of the bus. My stomach lurches. If he leaves it will just be me and the sky, the high pitched noise of the bus breaks at each stop and row after row of shops and houses. He doesn't get off. The action of his hand curling around the arm rest near my shoulder has a sensual flavour, as though he's caressing skin, not the thin aluminium rail.

"Hullo."

"Hi."

He sits behind me. I swivel to look. I want to start a conversation but my throat is dry.

"Your eyes are questioning."

"This is my poker face."

He laughs. It's magic. I bite my lip.

"I'm Paula."

"Tim"

"Hi Tim. Want to come home with me?"

I haven't thought about the words, they come out of my mouth before I've willingly formed them and it leaves me with a strange sensation in my middle. Say yes. I don't want to fail.

"I might...?"

Dimples.

"Paula are you always this forward?"

"No."

I glance out the window and realise my stop is coming up. I ring the bell. Up the front of the bus feet shuffle as the elderly prepare themselves for the stop. It puts my nerves on edge. We grind to a halt. I get up without looking back. I can sense the heat his body gives off as he follows me. The bus pulls away in a blast of hot air and brake noise. Highway sounds hide my confusion. Tim gestures for me to lead the way. I start walking.

After only four paces, maybe five, he tugs on my arm and I lurch to a halt. I hadn't realised I was practically running. His palm is warm and calloused as it slips into mine. We don't say anything. I start off once more, slower this time, towing him away from the heavy noise of the street.

We take a turn, heading further away from the steady traffic and into cool, overhanging peppermint gums lining the road.

"Wait!" he says "Are you real?"

"I don't know." It comes out in a whisper.

I want him to kiss me. Silence feels like foreplay. I'm angry at the mundane, suburban setting. In the world of my imagination my handsome stranger would tug me into an alleyway. We would embrace with passionate, frantic urgency.

I look up from my own thoughts into unsettling azure blue. I can't bear to keep staring. We're holding hands, facing each other like lovers. He uncurls his fingers, releasing me. I feel the cool afternoon air where his palm has been connected to mine. He raises his hands to my face, encircles my cheeks in an intimate gesture. I catch my breath.

"Do you want me?"

He leans forward and kisses my nose. I brush the softness of my cheek through his waiting hand, eyes closed. I don't answer the question, I don't feel I need to. I just wait.

"Do you come here often?"

"Every day."

Humbled. Obtuse.

He strokes his thumb across my lower lip. I know my torso trembles. I can feel my body reacting to his touch and I can hear it too, in my quiet, jagged breaths.

The not knowing is over. I stretch up on tippy-toes and connect my lips to his. Hot and full, a reward for all the pissing about. I assess their weight, time and again before drawing the courage to press for an open-mouthed gesture. He complies. The afternoon threatens rain. Tim tastes of salt and aniseed, promise and apricots. He pulls away. I don't know what he sees.

"Can we go somewhere?"

I smile, open my eyes wide and grin like the world is winning. My familiar street fades and I start to look at the surrounds as though I have never seen them before. He doesn't take my hand as we move off. We don't speak.

In the hall at the apartment block I fumble for my keys. For a moment I'm nervous. He slides a warm hand across my kidney as I rummage in my bag. I forget what it is to be nervous. It's a game, a foregone conclusion.

I open the door to my rooms and we go into the silence together. I take a drink of water and look across at him as I down the lukewarm liquid. I imagine his cock in his pants and how it might taste. I close my eyes, letting the water run over my tongue in the darkness. When I reopen them he stands with his hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground. His brown hair obscures the expression on his face. He plays with his feet, leaning on the arches, balancing and then bringing them flat to the floor.

Tim looks up. Clears his throat.

"Come here."

Before I've closed the distance between us entirely I've started work on the buttons of his shirt. It's a light plaid, not dissimilar to mine and I want it gone. It feels like I'm unwrapping a present. He brushes my hair back behind my ear, assisting me and at the same time adding a tingling sensation to my face, my neck and the zero-ing heat in my middle.

A gentle finger under my chin draws my eye line away from small, clear buttons. This time it's Tim who leans in, offering his lips for an embrace. The moment feels quiet, fragile, a palpable amount of trust in the air. In my minds eye our passion explodes like sex in a foreign film, all heaving breaths and rank, rabid movement as the participants devour one another in love play. Tim takes his time. He presses kisses on my mouth as though savouring the taste.

With my eyes closed I will him to hurry up. I don't want gentle, I don't want affection. My body sings to be fucked. I lean in, opening my mouth, our teeth click. My eyes are closed as I fumble for shirt buttons, clearing the material from his chest, bending my head, biting his nipple. He squirms, swats me away. His eyes are a deeper blue, steeped in lust. I lick my lips and flick his belt buckle.

Tim takes a run at my shirt, foregoing buttons, a few of them pop as he slides material over my breasts, over my head, discarding the garment carelessly on the floor. I've a light pink lace bra and my nipples stand to attention trapped beneath it. Tim bends his head and adds moisture to the lace, embracing first one aureole, then the other in a sloppy, covetous kiss.

"Oo Oh."

I can't help it. I squeeze my thighs together. He rubs the front of my skirt, cupping what he can find of my pussy in my tight, navy work skirt.

"Paula?"

"Mmm?"

"Tell me what you want?"

I open my eyes. He drags a thumb across the wet material on my nipple, expertly distracting my thoughts.

"I want you to take all your clothes off. I want to watch you do it. By the time you get to naked I want your stiff cock to spring free, begging to be buried in me. I want you to stand in front of me and hold onto it. So I can see you throbbing to fuck a woman. Then I want you to go find my bedroom. I'll get undressed. I'll follow you and I want you to start by eating my pussy. What I want most is to have your head buried between my legs... You know, you've got beautiful eyes"

"And you've a dirty mouth." His voice is uncommonly deep, desirous.

I take a breath, close my eyes to steady myself.

"Will you do it?"

"No."

Tim unclasps my bra and removes the lace garment. My breasts feel heavy, needy. He cups them in both hands and slides his palms up my torso. I snap the catch on his pants. My shaking thumb and forefinger find the zipper, the cotton of his jocks and the cock beneath. His adam's apple bobs in amazement. I take the flesh and grasp his meat in my hand. It grows and grows. Tim kicks off his shoes.

He leads me to the couch, just a few steps away and seats me facing him. We kiss. It's an encounter loaded with promise and heavy breathing. I revel in it. Our messy tongues find warm, moist flesh. Tim rips my tights. He rolls them down, off my thighs and shimmies up my skirt. My knickers are damp and he tugs my hips towards him, I slump in the seat. He drags my knickers to one side and tastes my pussy, wetting the material and my flesh with his tongue. It's delicious. I squirm, reaching to bury my hands into his hair.

"Ah!"

My knickers slide off in his deft hands and I spread my thighs wide. Tim licks and toys with my clit. I tremble, I ache. I ply at his shoulders, willing him to break contact with my wet skin. I want his cock to slide inside me. I can feel an orgasm blooming.

He inserts digits. I lose control. On the verge of orgasm I pull on his arms. Come to me. Don't let me die in your arms. Lust and blackness engulf my vision. I feel him pull back, finally, moments before my surrender. He sits astride the coffee table, creating distance between us. His proud, protruding member is hard and thick. I lick my lips, crawl on my knees towards him but fail to take the meat in my mouth. Instead we exchange sticky kisses, he tastes of sweat and me. It's exhilarating. I waste no time beginning to slide my pussy down his pole.

His blue eyes are hidden behind dilated irises. Tim's breath is short and his chest heaves. I feel so proud. We both look down at the connection of our sexes, my pussy juice coating his shaft. Before I'm sunk full of cock, he braces his heels and moves us, until I'm buried in the couch, my back to the cushions, cock meat all the way in.

"Unnngh!"

I bite my lip bury my nose in his neck. I don't want him to stroke. I feel sated, played, he's all the way inside me and I'm full up, dominated, aroused. With his big hands, Tim tilts my hips. His thumbs press upon my hip bones and his cock begins to glide in and out. Blue-black eyes feast on my expression. I stare back up at him, relishing the unfamiliar feeling of being taken, ridden, enjoyed.

I use my hands to steady us and make an effort to push back. The couch is too forgiving and the sensation dwindles. Wordlessly we switch to the floor, dragging a cushion for my pelvis and another for my head as we shift. My toes touch his ears as he drives into my softness. I'm alive. I tingle with knowledge and the precipice beckons. I don't know when I'll fall.

Tim leans back, he takes a moment to watch his cock as it hides and reveals itself. Then he licks a thumb and thrusts it towards my clit. I grind on his hand and explode into shards of delirium. Tim stops the action of his fingers and shifts his weight. He pistons into me, shaking with the effort of it. I hold onto his back, his butt; spent and waiting for him to cum.

He doesn't. Instead he withdraws, I keep my legs spread and he beckons my hands, willing me to jerk him off as I lie underneath him. Blue eyes wander over my prone body. I feel him go extra-specially hard in my hands. He cups my breast. I bite my lip and concentrate on the action of pumping his purple cock. He shudders and a ribbon of semen explodes onto my belly. His cock pulses, still in my hand. Spoof runs down my digits.

He drops his weight onto his hands and leans down to kiss me on the lips. He's panting more than I and we are both slightly sticky with sweat. I let go of his penis. I wipe my hand along the cooling cum on my belly and taste it, just for effect. I get dimples as payoff. Tim flops down onto the floor at my side and for a moment we both stare at my familiar ceiling.

Shyly I slide a palm over his hip. I lean on one elbow, looking at my freshly-found lover. After a moment he opens his eyes.

"Wow."

Silence.

"I've never picked up a woman on public transport before."

"I wanted to fuck you on the bus."

"You have a terrible poker face."

Tim kisses my nose.



Tour of Washington D.C.



This is chapter one: mostly about Cuckolding.





A few years ago when my wife and I were in our 30's and had no kids,we were touring Washington DC. After walking around for a couple of hours we were hungry and very thirsty so we stopped at a street vendor for a drink and a couple of hot dogs.

We were standing next to the vendors cart just chatting when a young black man rode up on a 10 speed bike.

He just sat on the bike, and started talking to us.

"OH miss, could you tell me what time it is?" he asked my wife.

She turned to see him seated there, with his legs spread open on the bike. His very tight riding pants showing 8 inches of cock down his left leg. Pants so tight, you could distinguish the circumcised head of his cock. A good looking young man, obviously fit from riding his bike.

She couldn't say a word. She literarily stood there with her mouth open staring at his display.

"Miss?" he repeated.

I chimed in with the time for him. Then he took out a dollar and asked my wife if she would purchase a lemonade for him.

She still just stood there staring.

I took his dollar and got him a large lemonade, and stared at his cock myself. He politely thanked us, and sat on his bike sipping his drink.

I then took my wife by the arm and led her over to a table under an umbrella. Our cyclist took a drink or two from his lemonade and kept looking at us.

My 33 year old, 5 foot 2 inch, 120 pound, C cupped, nicely built, brunet wife, was still staring back at him.

Then he held his drink and maneuvered his bike over to our table. As he sat on his bike now his cock was more prominent, maybe starting to get a little hard. I am sure, he was making sure, he was giving us his best display, and I sure couldn't blame him. He introduced himself as Todd. Todd looked directly at my wife and asked. "Are you vacationing here in DC?"

She just shook her head yes. 

"You've sure have some great weather for it, usually it is pretty hot here, now."

She shook her head again, and said, "It's very nice." Her voice an octave lower than I usually heard it.

"So where are you staying?"

I had to be the one to answer "The Marriott."

We made some small talk when he offered; "Well I know my way around, and I have little to do today, so, maybe, if you don't mind, I could show you a few things." My wife shot me a quick look, and the look in her eyes let me know she wanted to see more.

I said, "Well maybe, just how much would you want for that?"

Todd replied, "OH really nothing, I have a good job with the government, so the money doesn't matter. It just so happens today, I have time off, and you folks look interesting. I'm sure I would enjoy it, maybe, if you just buy me dinner. I know a very nice spot for dinner, out of the way, and reasonable price too."

My wife still dumbstruck, shook her head yes and I told him "I guess that would be fine. OK, thank you."

Now Todd took one more bold step as he reached down, and moved his cock around and up a little. I was sure it was getting hard on him. My wife latter told me she was hot, and wet at the time, and to be truthful, my cock was getting hard too. 

Todd was able to leave his bike with a friend only a few blocks away, and then we all got into a cab and started a tour. We did see some interesting sights and he knew how to get around the city and string things together so the cab rides were kept cheap.

When we stopped for lunch, my treat, Todd sat next to my wife and he rubbed his cock quite a bit where she could see it, but, I think, he thought I couldn't. We ordered some drinks and then we all started to loosen up.

I got up and went to the mens room. As I walked back to the table, they were on their second drinks and were laughing and talking it up a lot. I returned, and, as I sat down, my wife said she had to use the powder room, she got up to go. Then, Todd said he was going to the mens room and would escort her to the back. As they walked away my wife was walking very close to Todd almost leaning into his strong frame. They disappeared into the back area. It took 15 minutes before they came walking back together. Another drink and my wife was leaning into Todd and her hand was below the table. We really enjoyed our lunch, and then headed out with a full stomach, and a buzz on.

After a short afternoon of sightseeing, we decided it was time to get cleaned up for dinner. I figured Todd would go to his apartment, get ready, and then join us at the restaurant. After all he still had on his riding apparel. I was very much wondering what would happen as the evening progressed, seeing the way we were getting along.

Todd told us, that he just happened to have a suit, and a shirt, at a cleaners just down the street from the Marriott. Supposed he picked it up, and then he could accompany us to our room, where he could clean up. He would buy a razor, and shaving cream in the hotel shop. Then we could all go out to dinner.

My wife chimed in with, "Oh that won't be necessary, my husband will give you his cream, and a razor." So we stopped at the cleaners, Todd picked up a very nice suit and shirt, and then, right up to our room. My wife announced she wanted to shower first. She was in the shower for about 10 minutes while Todd and I talked, and decided Todd would be next.

My wife came out wearing a towel around her hair, and a towel wrapped around her, in a boob tuck.

Todd quickly went in, and the shower started right up again. My wife told me how sexy she thought he was, and how her, looking at his cock turned her on so much. Latter she assured me, I would reap the benefit of that. I was getting excited and couldn't wait for latter, but I would have to.

Todd was done next and came out with a towel wrapped around him. We could see a bulge of his cock under the towel. His suit and shirt were in the room, as was my near naked wife. I wondered how we would all change. I naively figured one would go into the bathroom. But my wife just said: "Well hubby, go take your shower." I glanced at both of them and then went into the bathroom with my harding cock. I closed the door, got into the shower,, my head spinning. I showered and played with my cock, but decided to not jerk off, and save it for latter.

As I finished up, I wrapped a towel around me, (as was the style of the day now), and prepared to join my wife and Todd. I wondered again, just how we would be able to dress, and how could we all stand around with towels wrapped around us? I had a hard time concealing my hard cock up under the towel and hoped I wouldn't have to wait too long to get into some clothes.

When I opened the door, that problem was gone. I was greeted by the sight of my wife, now naked, down on her knees with Todd's hard black cock disappearing into he mouth. She wasn't taking it easy on the blow job either, she was really moving her mouth up and down his cock, sucking deeply and noisily.

My cock got even harder under the towel.

She sucked his cock as Todd looked at me and grinned, then said, to her, "OK get up on the bed, I'm going to give you what you've wanted all day." Quickly, she stopped sucking his cock and scrambled onto the bed on her back, with her legs in the air. She pulled her legs back so they were over her tits.

Todd climed on the bed, and held his cock over her cunt. "Tell me baby, what do you want."

"FUCK ME,,,, Give me that hard black cock." He eased it up to her pussy about half way, then pulled back out, and asked, "What about your hubby over there."

"FUCK HIM LET HIM FIND HIS OWN COCK!"

Todd replied, "That's a good idea. Hubby, get on the phone and invite my friends over here,,,,,, for you." And he started to slowly stroke into her.

I was stunned!

"DO IT!" he insisted, "Or I won't give your wife here my cock, I'll just get dressed and leave."

I am sure this worked out just as he wanted, as my wife yelled; "GET ON THE PHONE YOU BASTARD AND DO AS HE TELLS YOU, DO IT NOW!!! DO IT;!!! I WANT HIS COCK AND I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO FOR ME TO GET IT!"

I picked up the phone and he gave me the number to call, and proceeded to put his cock deep into my wife. "And hold the phone so I can hear what is said." Todd told me. "And be sure you show him respect, call him Sir, he likes that."

She moaned and groned and whipped her ass up and down, she was doing all the work as Todd just held still and grinned, as her cunt worked on his cock.

I made the call, his name was Gordon. Gordon answered the phone, and I stammered out who I was. "Hello, Sir, this is Jay Kirking, I'm here with a a Todd, and ah a ah he wanted me ah a to invite you to ah join, to join a us in our room." He laughed and said "And I bet ole Todd has his cock out for your wife right now," he laughed again, "or does he have it in her?" He laughed.

"His, his ah cock is ah, in, in her." I admitted to a man I didn't know. I know I was humiliated, and blushing like a little kid and I couldn't take in more than a little panting breath.

"And what are you calling me for?" he asked.

Todd was able to hear, and told me what to tell him, now moving his cock in my wife letting her squeal and squirm around on his cock trying to get herself off. 

"Would you please come over to room 312 of the Renaissance Marriott? And let us have your cock for our enjoyment."

A quick correction from Todd. I said " And bring Roy along" I added, "We want you to enjoy his cock too."

Todd added; "Make sure you tell him that you will be sucking some cock to, Gordon really gets into that. He likes white sissies as much as white pussy."

Then he laughed as he continued to give my wife the pleasure of his cock.

I told the man on the phone, "Your cocks will be used for me to suck." I panted out, "I will enjoy sucking your cocks myself."

My head was swimming I couldn't think on my own, I just stood there mumbling out what I was told to say.

Todd once again gave me more to tell Gordon.

"Your cocks will be for me to suck on, and to fuck my wife, and fill her with your cum so I can suck it out. I will suck your cock for the cum too..... Please come over." "SIR!" Todd corrected me. "Please come over Sir." I said, completely humbled and beaten.

My head was now spinning. I had no will of my own. I knew I would be turned into a cocksucker and I would have no choice. I guess, I would be doing it for my wife, but really I knew I would be doing it for me. Damn I wanted it. Damn I was so horny.

Gordon laughed and said, "OK, Roy and I have been sitting here waiting for this call." Gordon hung up. I was totally humiliated by now; but totally turned on too.

Now Todd turned his attention to my wife and gave her some really good fucking, he was ramming cock into her hard and deep, she was squealing and throwing herself up to meet his thrusting. He was filling her deeper and wider than I ever could. Soon my wife started coming, and Todd kept ramming her. She whipped her head back and forth and was twisting and throwing her body all around Then Todd yelled what a great fuck she was how her cunt was tight and felt so good and he was coming deep in her hot cunt. He told her how tight her cunt was, and then said probably because you husband has such a small white cock.

She joined right in, "Yes, he has a pitiful little white boy cock. Give me your big black cock hard and deep."

I just stood there in shock, my cock hard, my mouth hanging open, l felt foolish, I knew my 4 inch cock would never do anything like that for her; EVER! I knew we would be seeing more black men and she would be seeking more black cock.

They whipped around on the bed for a minute then slowly came down. After a minute or two, Todd said; "OK peckerwood get over here and lick my cum out of her cunt like the pussy boy you are."

I just stood there, my mouth hanging open, my cock hard as a rock. I went to the bed and got between her legs. I looked at her open cunt, and the cum leaking out of it and then my head went down and my mouth started licking and sucking up the mixture of her and Todd's cum.

I was deeply turned on to doing this, I wanted to please both of them so much and I wanted to do this to eat cum.

She held my hair and moved her cunt up and down my face and moaned again. Todd moved up to give his cock to her available mouth and she quickly began sucking on it as I ate cum.

More to come. 



Tour of Washington D.C. Continues



I just stood there, my mouth hanging open, my cock hard as a rock. I went to the bed and got between her legs. I looked at her open cunt, and the cum leaking out of it and then my head went down and my mouth started licking and sucking up the mixture of her and Todd's cum.

I couldn't belive it I was licking up another man's come from my wife. Tasting his come. I never thought a man's cum would be in my mouth.And from my wife's pussy. I was so beaten. And what about when the other guys got here? Where would their cum end up?

She held my hair and moved her cunt up and down my face and moaned again. Todd moved up to give his cock to her available mouth, she quickly began sucking on it, as I licked cum.

Then some movement between and some loud whispering I really couldn't make out. Then I heard my wife say "Go on do it, you said you would make him do it and I want to see it."

Todd moved down the bed next to me and grabbed my hair. Lifting my head around he presented his cock to me and said "Suck my cock, suck it really good. Suck it deep". I had just been licking cum, but that was still just licking my wife's cunt, still maybe heterosexual not queer, not cocksucking, not this!

Todd reinterated, "Suck my cock!" And my wife chimed in, "Go on suck his cock, suck it like a good husband. Suck it, that will really turn me on again. IF you don't if you don't suck his cock, you will be sorry believe me."

He pulled my hair moving my mouth to his cock, then he pushed forward and my mouth opened and his cock was in it. I was now sucking on his cock. I now had no excuse, I was now a queer, cocksucker. I moved my head a little and he stroked his cock in and out of my mouth. It really wasn't bad at all. I was kind of OK with it, when my wife said, "WOW a cocksucker, WOW what a faggot"!

"What a faggot? She was the one who wanted me to do this, she was the one who threatened me to do this or else, and now she is calling me a faggot?"

Then Todd said, "See I told you he would, I knew it, all these little whities are willing cock suckers for black cock." That kind of pissed me off and I tried to pull my head back but my position gave me no leverage, and Todd held my hair strongly. I sure couldn't say anything with a mouthful of cock.

I sucked down on his cock, mad, but nothing I could do about it, and as he was stroking it in and out of my mouth there was a knock at the door. "That will be Gordon and Roy." Todd said. He got off the bed and told us. "Get off the bed, and get on your knees in the middle of the room here. Both of you'"

My wife was off the bed and on her knees first, and I complied, as if we had no choice, as if we had no will. Todd went to the door and said "Wait a minute, I'll unlock the door and you come in, in 10 seconds."

Then Todd walked around behind us and took hold of our hair. As the door opened he pulled up on our hair, forcing us up on our knees, putting us on display and making it very clear who was totally in charge of whom. Gordon and Roy walked in, seeing my wife and me naked, on our knees and pulled up on full display That sight invoked laughter out of them.

"WOW! Todd you really have something for us there. What a nice display, and what fun we are all going to have."

Then Gordon pulled out his cock and walked right over to me, and pushed his cock in my face, "Open up." he said. I opened my mouth. Gordon's cock slid into my mouth, and I sucked down on it. Todd then used my hair to move my head back and forth on Gordons cock. Gordon laughed and stroked his cock in rhythm with Todd's movements of my head.

I was now a used cocksucker for sure. I had no say in this, I had no will to do anything else, I resigned myself to being a cuckolded, cocksucker. I could never, never, go back.

Then Todd let go of my hair, and Gordon reached down and grabbed a fistful. He used it to control my sucking mouth on his cock. Todd pulled my wife up, and onto the bed by her hair. He positioned himself on his back and pulled my wife around so she would have to suck on his cock on her hands and knees. Roy took advantage of her upturned ass and climbed up behind her and put his cock into her. Then I was totally distracted by Gordon's use of my mouth. Gordon fucked deep and hard using my mouth for the pleasure of his cock. He held his cock still and moved my head for his pleasure. After about a minute of me being used like this, I accepted my position and started really getting into sucking his cock. I sucked down as well as I could on such a thick cock with a big head. He was moving me so his cock was gagging me, and I pushed forward too to really get down on his cock. I was gagging and grunting and even moaning. I was also drooling down my chest since I found it almost impossible to swallow.

I knelt there totally getting absorbed in my position as cocksucker. Todd pointed this out to everyone, especially my wife as he said, "Look at your faggot husband, he is sucking that cock as good as any cocksucker, as good as you. He loves it. He will now suck any cock, ay any time, you can bet on it."

I realized he was right, now I was a cocksucker, and I was owned and I knew I was hooked on it.

Then Gordon started really fucking my mouth, jamming deep and fast, then holding for a couple of seconds then picking up again. He held my head still with strong had and fucked deep into my mouth ramming into my throat. After a few good and deep thrusts he pulled out so I could breath and drool pored out of my well used mouth. Then grabbing my ears again he rammed deep in and out of my mouth land throat. He held up again down my throat, I gagged and couldn't breath I tried to pull back but he held me. I started to panic, and then he let me go. I half fell back and again drooled like a faucet. Gordon tweeked my nose and then slapped his large cock across my face. I knew this move really demonstrated how he owned me now, I was, no doubt, his bitch. He told me to lay down on the other bed and hang my head over the side. This now presented my mouth and throat a straight fuck hole for his cock. And he used it like that! Fucking in and out deep and long. The drool was coming out of my mouth with his out strokes and down my upside down face. Over my eyes and into my nose. He was groaning and moaning and really enjoying his fucking of my face. Gordon let out a couple of deep grunts and then a "OOOOHHHH Damn! OOOOHHHH NOW, OHH take it! OOOHHH this is great! OK sswallow OOOOHHH YES!"

I gulped cum, and then, as his cock softened in my mouth I continued to suck on it as he pulled back. I laid there, groaning myself, my cock at attention showing everyone that I was not repulsed by his use of me. I sucked at his cock. "Woe boy that's it for now, it's empty, you sucked it all out."

I actually felt empty, and laid there naked, and my cock sticking up so very excited. I wanted more.

Then Gordon said that he planed to take me over to James's place where I could get some more cock from James and "Dink", and "Twink".

WOW my stomach did a flip, to think they thought they could just take me someplace and use me like they owned me. Well they did, I knew that there was no way out for me now. And it was clear my wife would do nothing to save me. She was really enjoying her fucking and her cocksucking. I was amazed. I thought how ironic, now in this day and age, we were going to be a white slaves to black masters.

Gordon looked around the room,