3 comments/ 105991 views/ 4 favorites This Day By: steamer5139 On June 22, 1975, Jaws, the first summer blockbuster movie, opened nationwide in 409 theaters. Earlier that day, under a dazzling blue sky filled with great puffy white clouds looking like immense sheep dogs at play, I packed my 1971 Ford Pinto with a sea bag stacked full of uniforms, a duffel bag filled with neatly folded civvies and several cardboard boxes of books. Twenty minutes later, I parked in front of a house out past the greyhound track in the rural fringe of Orange Park, Florida. My buddy and I were renting the place for a third of what we expected to pay. Sitting in the car for a moment, I listened to Lady Marmalade then turned the radio off. I opened my car door; at least two things were unbeknownst to me the naïve Midwestern kid, a neophyte in the Navy: First, I had no idea that Ford Pintos had defective gas tanks with an unfortunate tendency to burst into flames if rear-ended at speeds above twenty-five miles per hour. Every time I tooled down the road, I risked immolation like a saffron clad Buddhist monk in Vietnam. Secondly, that I had driven straight into the kill zone of a land borne Great White Shark, my personal Jaws. In a few moments, this predator, armed with a dastardly array of weapons, with a take no prisoner attitude would commence circling me in the same lazy fashion as the movie's slick killing machine. Desiring more space then afforded at the barrack on base, I talked a buddy named Mark Brewer, a red haired guy from Sioux City, Iowa, a fellow who lived deep inside himself, a guy who did not run his mouth but when he did say something, it was worth listening to, into sharing a place with me. Both of us were Sailors and hospital corpsmen at the Naval Hospital in Jacksonville. I loved working on the intensive care unit; Mark hated the ortho floor. We pooled our resources, quickly found a house to rent well within our limited budget and signed the lease the day before with the rental agent. Mark and I considered the residence a bachelor pad not a mere house. I do not know about Mark but I saw Hugh Hefner's smug countenance when I looked in a mirror. I might not have Hugh's wealth, a hutch of Playboy bunnies scampering about in such abundance you merely had to reach out and scoop one up but I was confident that my youth, enthusiasm and relentless determination would net me a few hot-blooded vixens. The house Mark and I rented so cheaply, a two-bedroom house built on a concrete block foundation, a craftsman bungalow, built in 1921 using floor plans and materials purchased from the Sears Modern Homes Mail Order catalogue for less then fifteen hundred dollars, had a low pitched roof, a sprawling porch, lots of windows. Painted hazy gray it looked comfortable sitting amidst the scrub palmettos, cabbage palms and chinkapin trees. Islets of grass in channels of dry dirt made for a shabby front yard, a quite muddy front yard when it rained I had no doubt. In back, a path led to the placid patch of the St. John's River where a bright yellow canoe bumped against a rickety wooden pier. In that direction, the river, in every other direction trees, trees and more trees, their bonnets of leaves provided shade, perches for birds sounding off. Along with our house, another craftsman bungalow, this one painted a pale yellow and looking invitingly cool shared the clearing and the gravel square serving as a parking lot at the end of short graveled road. Some people, not necessarily members of my family, said, I was a good-looking kid. I did not agree. At 19, my manhood still tenuous, fresh from boot camp and Hospital Corps "A" school in Great Lakes, Illinois, I was a gangly youth who blushed too frequently, broke out with pimples way too often. I still missed my long curls of blond hair, still grieved for the missing ponytail the boot camp barber snipped off in one easy fluid motion. My immature face the image of my father at the same age, sprouted whiskers soft as dandelion stems. Females seemed to love my clear blue eyes and being totally pussy crazed, wanting to fuck my brains out with a plentiful portion of women, my eyes in my considered opinion were my solitary babe attractant. As a young child, I stammered, learned to control it, suffered through the slings and arrows cast by bullies. My slight lisp, replacing the sibilant S with the interdental Th sound, plagued me, followed me through school, into the Navy. I fought several times, sustained skinned knuckles and bloodied nose, a series of them. I gave back pain in the same portion I received it when someone hearing me slay sibilants laughed at me, assumed my speech impediment somehow signaled my effeminacy, and accused me of homosexuality. I detested the stereotypical depiction of a gay man prancing about, lisping every time he opened his mouth. I lived to fuck women, women exclusively. I dreamed of becoming a doctor. To test that ambition, my family doctor recommended I spend four years as a hospital corpsman in the United States Navy. I followed his advice, joined the Navy and now I loved doing all the clinical procedures, treating patients, giving shots, drawing blood, learning simple lab tests, shooting x-rays, suturing lacerations, scrubbing in surgery even doing the scut work required of a Hospitalman, a swab jockey cleaning heads one moment, giving injections, making beds the next moment. Mark and I had tossed a quarter to see who would sleep in the bigger bedroom. I won. I figured five trips from the car to bedroom. On the third trip as I passed the car, I touched the hood. Still hot to the touch and for once I had traveled from point A to point B without the adjustment screw in the carburetor jumping out and stalling my car. Leaning against the car's rear bumper, the hatchback open, I lifted a cardboard box and at the same time looked toward the yellow house and at that precise moment, you might say my ship came in. I dropped the heavy book laden box, looked skyward and said, "Thank you God." A scant twenty or thirty feet away in the front yard of the yellow house a lovely, buxom, long limbed woman on her knees used shears to cut weeds around a palmetto tree near the center of the yard. Barefoot, her toenails painted pink, she wore short pink shorts that pressed against her firm buttocks. Her heavy breasts spilled over the top of her white halter-top as she clipped away. Her knees pressed against the ground, her legs, bent, looked as good as the rest of her. You remember such moments until memory meanders away at the instance death embraces you. Thirty years later the memory of my first sighting of her retains its vivid clarity. Never in my short life had desire sluiced through me with such abandon. I was no virgin but until this moment I could not remember being this hard, being erect so quickly. The closest resemblance to the suddenness of my lust was the memorable moment, shortly before joining the Navy, I stepped into the bathroom, suddenly transfixed, supremely engorged, seeing my Aunt Monica, Mom's younger sister toweling off after her shower, her huge breasts, her butterfly shaped public hair sparkling from glistening drops of water. Placing the shears on the ground, my neighbor glided over to the porch steps, posed for me. Being an aficionado of centerfold photography, Karen Christy, December 1971, being a personal favorite, I always wondered what it would be like to stand behind a camera, look through the viewfinder and take photos of a beautiful, sexy woman. Now, I knew. She reached out with her slender left hand, a gold band on the ring finger, touched the tubular metal porch rail. Shifting weight to her shapely right leg, she bent forward, lifted her left leg, stretched it out behind her lithe body, the leg formed a flattened v shape. Then standing on tiptoes, she looked back over her right shoulder letting me feast my eyes on her ass, her slim ankles, her sculpted calves, firm thighs. Back to when I suckled my mother's teat, I was a solidly entrenched big breast man. Ever since I started masturbating, big boobs were crucial to my practice of auto gratification. Seeing a buxom woman in a low cut bra, her breasts thrusting forth for the world to see delighted me, hardened me. Busty woman in something low cut stimulated me just as effectively as a bare boob in a glossy stroke magazine. This woman posing on her porch, her black hair cut in the style popularized by Dorothy Hamil resembled Audrey Hepburn, Audrey Hepburn with big boobs. She pirouetted on legs equal to Betty Grable, Ann Miller or Betty Page. I thanked God, she wore no spike heel pumps or I would have gone right over the edge with semen spewing into my pants. Never had I seen a woman so comfortable in her body, taking such pleasure in flaunting it in public view. I by no means a rocket scientist, my SATs in high school respectably average numbers, not close to Susan Leu's nearly perfect scores, I knew this woman's sexy show was a semaphore of invitation. Staring at her, I must have resembled a wide-eyed religious zealot come to Jesus. She turned to her left, positioned her left foot on the first porch step and I knew the show was over for now. Then, incredibly, she smiled, a sinfully wicked and salacious smile. Then with her bare feet firmly planted on the porch steps, I could see several drops of perspiration on her breasts, she raised her left arm in a smooth fluid motion. She pointed at me, pointed back at herself and finally pointed at the front door of her house. By the time she reached the screen door, I was on the bottom step of the porch. She smiled. At that moment, much closer to her now, I could see she was thirty seasons my senior. Somehow, she had stopped the ravages of time, the debilitating effects of gravity, the ceaseless weathering of biology and in June of 1975; her body remained as firm, supple and sexy as it did in 1955, the year before my birth. She said nothing, I could smell her perfume, see the perspiration on the topsides of her tits as she opened the screen door, it squeaked as I followed her into the house. Bouncing on her bare feet across a polished hardwood floor, her hips swaying back and forth, she took my damp left hand in her dry right hand, led me through an immaculately kept house toward a bedroom. "What is your name," I asked. She placed the index finger of her left hand in front of her pink lips. Silence is golden, golden is silence, I thought to myself. We entered the boudoir, a couple's bedroom. A man also slept in this room. Neckties, several suits, a pair of work boots occupied space in a closet and I wondered if the man of the house was close by, too close by for my comfort. She motioned me to sit on the bed, a four-poster. It resembled the bed my papaw died in surrounded by five sons and two daughters in the summer of 1965. This model looked much older, old enough to have rested Andrew Jackson's weary bones when he came Florida way during the Seminole War. Following her silent command, I sat on the side of the bed, facing a mirrored dresser with several framed photos, a jewelry box on the dresser surface. She dropped to her knees, the pale blue throw rug shifting slightly as she settled on the floor. Looking down I could see the sumptuous slope of her breasts rising from the halter-top. She moved her head, tipped her chin slightly. I figured she wanted me to stand. I stood. She unbuckled my belt, slid down my zipper, pulled my jeans down and they pooled around my ankles. My cock poked from my white jockey briefs. She untangled me from my underwear and motioned me to sit back down. I sat. She took me in her mouth, her lips looking like pink pillows moved up and down my length. She sucked, her cheeks collapsed inward. The most delicious sensations shot through me as she worked. Occasionally, she looked up at me her mouth plugged full with my cock. She continued to suck, stopped, let me pop out of her mouth, licked and sucked with renewed vigor. Her mouth squeezed in on me, I reached out, placed my hands behind her exposed ears, pulled her toward my thrusting pole. As she sucked, some anxiety settled in my gut. What to do if I heard the screen door open and a beefy crew cut guy suddenly filled the bedroom doorway. Truthfully, the idea of a boyfriend, a husband catching this woman on her knees, my cock in her mouth added a fillip to our carnal meeting. Fuck, I wanted to say, the word said as a request, a plea, an order but I followed her lead and remained silent. All of my average sized cock fell into her mouth. She took it all and what truly excited me was her passion in sucking cock. She struck me as a woman who did nothing by half, who went full bore at any activity. I had glimpsed a veritable library of cookbooks on a shelf in the kitchen, which probably meant she was not satisfied with mere cooking. Her beautifully toned body testified to killing workouts. Even her coiffure allowed her to move out the door quicker, to sally forth faster. As she laved my cock with her tongue, I noticed her left hand inside the front of her shorts. I removed my hands from her head touched her breasts, my hands slid into her halter-top, mashed down on her nipples. Feeling is so much better then seeing. My hands, still moist, roamed over her boobs. My God, they were big. I wanted to see them minus the halter-top. I want to fuck you. The words stayed inside my head. Please let me fuck you did not emerge from my quivering mouth. I would sound so lame. Nor did I say I am going to fuck the hell out of you, you little minx. I thought it though. Nearly at the moment of my release, she stopped sucking; I bounded from her mouth. She stood, smiled at me, an innocent, sweet smile like a nun grinning at kid going through communion. Standing up, she pulled her shorts down, stepped out of them, removed the halter-top in a shrug and did a slow spin letting me see every inch of her geography. My eyes nearly popped out of my head taking in her nakedness. The reality of her breasts far surpassed anything I imagined. Big, round, perfectly shaped mounds, each one capped with a supremely erect nipple centered in a pale brown field. Her tiny waist made her bust look even bigger, her hips flared out, the cheeks of her ass looked hard as granite. Legs sculpted by a serious regimen of dancing, runner's legs not too muscular and not one smidgen of excess adipose tissue. I want to fuck your tits, slide my cock between them, and fill your mouth, I thought to myself looking at her breasts. Red lipstick adorned her full lips and formed a band around my cock. My heart pounded, my cock head, slick with her moisture pointed at the nest of black pubic hair in her pubis. In the quiet room, I could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the house. It ticked maybe five or six times and we were in the immense bed under cool blue sheets, me on top of her, my cock buried in her pussy, her legs around me, her heels pushing into my flanks. Her pussy grabbed and fixed itself around me. For some inexplicable reason Terry Lynn Wilberforce came to mind, her eighteen-year-old portal surrendered to my eighteen-year-old penis. Maybe it was because Terry was my first fuck and this woman my best fuck by far. Tumescent in her tight tunnel, our friction taking us on a merry ride, we took our sweet time, slowed down and sped up, practiced patience, drove to the edge of release and pulled back. All of it coming together like a symphony orchestrated by a master. Not one sound escaped from her, not a whisper. My noise of grunts and groans provided a running commentary to our coupling. As my cock charged forth, I took the nipple of her left breast in my mouth, sucked it, sucked it hard. Then my mouth moved to her right breast, my hands slid under her ass and lifted her toward me. This woman, tiny crow's feet around her green eyes and the slightest loosening of flesh on her neck, were the only signs that signaled her seniority. Her sexuality was so overpowering, the lust in the room so dense it amazed me I had not yet exploded inside her. The only sounds in the bedroom were the squeak of the bed, some birds singing outside. In her muteness, I found enticement and eroticism. I had fantasized of women coming and going in my new digs but this sexual interlude went barreling past the property of dreams, seemed so fantastical I expected to wake up any moment and find myself back in my barrack bed.It was no dream however. For several hours, we fucked. I fucked her in the standard missionary position, we did it doggie style, my semen shot inside her pussy, deep inside her mouth. Never will I forgot how my cock looked swaddled by her mouth, the way she felt as my cock plunged into her.Periodically, we paused; she threw back the sheet, padded on her bare feet to the kitchen, returned with icy cold lemonade and butter cookies one time and chocolate covered cherries later. In the bed, we nibbled the cookies; I nibbled her. We sipped lemonade; I supped between her legs, my tongue probing into her canal filled with my semen. I felt so deliciously wicked fucking this woman. She fucked me with equal gusto. She seemed tireless and I was inexhaustible. It felt surreal all this fucking and sucking and licking with no conversation, no bed talk patter. Finally, spent, my cock unable to rally, my finger inside her, I fell asleep in the mussed bed. I think she did too. I awakened to her stroking my cock. My God, she wanted to fuck again. Hell, I wanted to fuck again too. Now, she talked, told me about herself. Her name was Minka and she was 52 years old. A widow for five years, her husband Carl, a steamfitter, killed in a fall at work. She sued the company employing the workers whose negligence caused his death. The company settled with her for a most handsome sum and she worked part time in a dry cleaning establishment. After Carl's death, she fucked a man of 19 tender years, my age. From that moment, she was hooked on young men. She loved the way their cocks felt in her mouth, the way they filled her pussy. She owned the house Mark and I rented. To assure herself a steady supply of young fuck buddies, she instructed the rental agent to rent the house for nearly nothing. With a large navy base close by Minka had a plentiful source of seafood. Minka raised her head from the pillow, looked at me. "The rental agent told me you had a slight lisp and I hesitated, reconsidered trying to seduce you. I would have been quite embarrassed if I did everything but fuck myself on the front lawn only to find out you were gay. The way you shot over here though, I knew, no way you were gay. "Honey, you have so much potential to be a fuck monster. That is why I like you young fellows so much. You keep going and I think your young sperm keeps me young." Looking at this youthful half-century-old dame, me a hospital corpsman schooled in basic pharmacology, hoping to be a doctor some day, I had to agree with her ideas on the fountain of youth properties found in young male sperm. For the next three years, this woman, my personal Jaws, never went without my youth giving elixir and I never went without what she gave me so freely. This Definitely is Not South Beach That Friday afternoon, the shared van pulled up in the driveway of my hotel. It was the end of a week long spring break in Miami with my friend Rick. We stayed at an amazing art deco hotel on South Beach. Unfortunately the week had to come to an end eventually, and the two of us parted our separate ways. Rick went to college in North Carolina while I go to school in Boston. We ended up booking flights at completely different times that Sunday, so we needed separate transportation to the airport. With the help of the driver, I loaded my duffel bag into the back of the van. I was the first person to be picked up, so I leisurely threw my backpack over the middle row of seats and sat down. We picked up two more people on Collins Avenue before we made our way to the airport. The first was an older man from the Caribbean, who seemed a little crazy. He talked to the driver for most of the trip, mostly about how college students need to follow "the lord's teachings" when they go on spring break. I kept quiet during most of the conservation. The second passenger was a dark haired woman in her early 40's. She sat next to me in the middle row of seats, but also kept quiet during the drive listening to the crazy man's rant. When we arrived at the airport, I took my two bags out of the van. I was actually almost two hours for my flight. After checking my bag, I grabbed a quick bite to eat in a Mexican restaurant that was showing NCAA tournament basketball. My cell phone rang and on the other line was Rick telling me he made it home. We ended up talking for nearly an hour recapping our trip. I showed up at the gate 20 minutes before boarding. Five minutes later there is an announcement over the loudspeaker. "Flight 287 Service from Miami International to Boston's Logan Airport has been cancelled due to weather. All flights going to the northeastern United States have also been cancelled." I was not happy. I rushed to get in line to rebook my flight, but the line barely moved. Eventually I was able to call the airline's customer service number who rebooked my flight, but not until Monday. I was stuck in Miami for 3 more days. Rick was long gone, and I couldn't afford to go back to South Beach. I went to baggage services to get my checked bag back. On the line in front of me was the dark haired woman from the van ride. "Let me guess. You were trying to fly to the Northeast too," she said to me. "How'd you know? Flying into Boston?" I replied back. "No, Philly. But now it looks like I'm stuck here for a couple days." A couple minutes later, an airport employee makes an announcement. He yells, "I'm sorry folks, we can't pull any bags today. They will all be sent to their final destination." Now I was very unhappy. The only clothes I had were the clothes that I was wearing -- shorts, a t-shirt, boxers and sandals. That would have to last me all weekend. I found a courtesy phone, and picked the first hotel that looked decent from its picture. I booked a room through Monday. The hotel van picked me up and brought me to the hotel. When I checked in I gave them my parents frequent guest number, and they actually upgraded my room to a suite. My phone's battery was about to die, probably because I talked to Rick for so long. And the worst part was my charger was in my checked bag. So I ask the front desk if they happen to have any spare chargers lying around. They hand me a huge cardboard box full of tangled charger wires. I sort through them trying to find one that will fit my phone. Of course I can't. I hear a familiar voice so I look up. In front of me is the same woman from the van and baggage line. "Mind if I have a look?" she asks. "Sure, but don't expect to have too much luck finding the right one." "It's probably a lost cause. Looks like we are in the exact same situation. I have no other clothes expect for a bathing suit that I happened to put in my carry-on bag. What about you?" Her clothes consisted of a red tank top, khaki shorts and sandals. I answered her, "Nope, all I have is what I am wearing. Nothing else." "Well I am going to go check out my room. I guess I will see you around." In the elevator I pushed the button for the 9th floor. I opened the door to my room, which I completely forgot was a suite. It was actually really nice. I had a separate living room and bedroom, each with a plasma television. It made me feel a little better being trapped in Miami. By then it was dark out and I was dead tired from being at the airport. I ended up going to sleep for the night. I woke up around 10 am, and figured I had no other options except for lounging by the pool. I grabbed my backpack and headed down. The pool area wasn't too crowded, only a couple families and some older grandparent types. Somehow I got the impression that this wasn't exactly South Beach. I grabbed a lounge chain, took off my shirt to tan, and pulled out a book. About 30 minutes later, a shadow formed over me. I looked up to see the woman again. "Hey there. Mind if I grab this chair next to you?" "Absolutely. By the way, my name is Paul." I reached out to shake her hand. She shook my hand and gave me a big smile. "Hi Paul. It's nice to formally meet you. I'm Veronica." Veronica unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them to the ground. Then she took her tank top off over her head. Beneath she had on the bathing suit she was talking about. It was a one piece. After spending the last week looking at girls in thong bikinis, I wouldn't have thought a one piece could be sexy but somehow it was. The swimsuit was diagonally striped Turquoise, Black and White. .The front was cut pretty low in a U-shape. It showed a nice amount of cleavage, even when she was standing up in front of me. Her tits were actually pretty big, like around a C cup. It may have been the suit, but they were pushed together nicely, and looking rather perky for a woman her age. The swimsuit tied at the top, leaving her back relatively bare. The bottom sides were cut to hip length, which showed off her tanned legs. Right before she sat down she pulled the bottom out so it would cover her ass better. I have to say I was getting a little turned on by this older woman. Usually I didn't see women her age as being sexy, but there was something special about her. She actually had a decent body, pretty toned and athletic. Her skin was smooth and tan, probably from sitting in the Miami sun for a couple days. She had straight shoulder length brunette hair, short enough not to cover to the soft features of her face. I hoped that she would ask me to rub some lotion on her body, but unfortunately it never happened. We talked for a little while, and then she began read a magazine. My sunglasses were pretty deep tint, so every so often I would sneak a peak at her cleavage. I think she might have caught me once or twice, but I had no way of really knowing. It didn't prevent me from looking again. At one point I moved my eyes up from the book, and looked over at Veronica. She was looking in my direct and it appeared she was staring at my body. I couldn't tell because of her oversized sunglasses. She saw me looking back at her, so she smiled. I really didn't know what to think about what just happened. I convinced myself she couldn't really have been staring at me. After sitting outside for several hours I needed to get out the sun. "Hey Veronica. I think I'm going to head inside." "Oh ok Paul. I will see you around." Extremely tired I went back to my room and took a nap for several hours. I finally woke up, rolled rover to see 6:15 pm in bright red numbers on the alarm clock. I guess the sun really got to me because I spent the last four hours dead to the world. Starving, I picked up the phone to order some room service. After feeling refreshed from eating and taking a shower, I really needed to get out of the room. Due to lack of options, I went out to the hotel bar. While the hotel mostly catered to business people since it was near the airport, I thought there might be a chance of some spring breakers hanging out. Boy was I wrong. I walked into the bar and stopped near the entrance to survey my surroundings. Like a ton of bricks fell on me, it was clear this was no spring break. Sitting at the bar there was an old married couple, a younger couple, and three nerdy looking guys who looked like computer salesmen. To think I went from South Beach to this was amazing. "Hey Paul," I heard a voice yell out. "Paul, over here." Turning around, I saw hiding away at a corner table was Veronica. She was back to wearing the only outfit she owned, a red tank top and khaki shorts. Her firm legs were crossed, and I could see a glimmer of cleavage as I stood over her. Jokingly I said, "Veronica, I swear I've seen you wearing that same outfit before." "No way. Its designer. I had it flown it this morning from Paris. I'll probably throw it away at the end of the night when I'm done with it." "Oh my mistake. Can I buy you a drink?" "Aww that's sweet. I'll take a cosmo." Standing behind the bar is an older man with a funny looking curled mustache. I order the drinks and hand him my ID. He looks at me, looks at the ID, and looks at me again. "I'm sorry son, but I know this is a fake." "What are you talking about? That's my real license." It was a fake. I was only 20. For that fake ID to work at some of the hottest clubs in Miami, just to get turned down by this nobody really made me angry. I was ready to start an argument, but I really didn't want Veronica to see. I turned around towards her, and it was clear she saw the whole event anyway. I felt terrible about the whole incident. Standing behind me Veronica puts her hands on my shoulders. She had a puppy dog look on her face and said to me, "Don't worry about it honey." I have an idea." She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the bar. I looked down to catch a quick glimpse of her ass as she ran in front of me. Back in the lobby Veronica looked at me and I could now tell she was already a little drunk. She said, "I have a bottle of Caribbean rum that I picked up at the duty free shop at the airport. I was going to bring it home to my friend as a gift, but I don't think she'll mind if we crack it open and have a little." "Wow, that sounds great." "It's in my room. Let's go up there. It's on the 5th floor." "Actually Veronica, I have a suite. Its got a separate living room and everything." "Paul I knew you were good for something," she said as she flashed me a smile. After a quick stopover in her room to get the booze, we arrived at my suite. I unlocked the door and walked inside. Veronica's jaw dropped to the door. "Damn, who'd you have to fuck to get this room?" I couldn't believe something like that would come out of the mouth of a woman her age. But it was kind of hot, and it really turned me on. I sat down on the couch in the living room, and Veronica sat next to me. I pour us both a glass of rum over glass. We touch glasses and she takes it down like a shot. Not wanting to be outdone I followed suit, and immediately poured another one for each of us. She took that one down just as quickly as the first. "Veronica, I am seriously impressed. Most women aren't so gifted." She started to laugh hysterically and could not sit still. I honestly didn't think it was that funny. Eventually as she regained her composure her arm ended up resting on my thigh. I didn't know what to do, but I knew for sure that I didn't want her to move it. So I sat completely still. "You are so funny. Oh my god I can barely stop laughing." Suddenly without notice her hand started rubbing my knee. All I could do was sit there sipping away on my newly poured drink. My cock started to grow slightly in my shorts. Finally calming down from laughing, she gave out a loud sigh. She was visibly drunk at that point, so I asked her if anything was wrong. Veronica looked into my eyes with a serious look on her face and responded, "Oh Paul. You are such a sweet guy." Her hand which was rubbing my knee started rubbing further and further up my leg. After a couple motions back and forth, she was getting dangerously close to my now rock hard cock. Her hand came to rest over the outline of my shaft, which she gave a little squeeze. She moved her body closer to me and her tits pressed against my arm. Veronica whispered in my ear, "Oh Paul. What do we have here? Looks like somebody is happy to see me. Can he come out to play?" She bit my ear softly with her teeth. Without even giving me a chance to respond, my shorts were unzipped. She reached down and pulled my cock through my boxers. It stood straight up in the air. "Oh we got a nice one," Veronica tells me as she wraps her hand around the shaft. She gives it a couple jerks up and down. I lean back on the couch as she plays with it. She then gets up off the couch and kneels down on the floor in front of me. I pulled down my shorts and underwear to the floor. Positioning herself between my legs, she leaned in towards me. With her mouth inches from the tip of my penis, she looked up into my eyes. The front of her tongue quickly brushed the head. Her hands squeezed down my thighs to give herself support. Veronica licked her lips and then took the tip into her mouth. Her head moved deeper down onto my shaft until most of it disappeared. As she moved upwards, her tongue pressed into my cock. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and for a second it felt like I was going to lose consciousness. She varied speed moving up and down my shaft, every so often looked up into my eyes. After a minute or two, I felt like I was going to explode. Veronica pulled her mouth off my cock. Still on her knees she took a second to just sit there to catch her breath. Her hair was messy and was clearly fatigued. I still couldn't believe that this older woman had just sucked my dick. It was crazy to think about. Being extremely horny I didn't want to waste another second. Leaning in towards her, I rested on hands on her hips. I grabbed the sides of her red tank top, and her arms shot up straight into the air above her head. Pulling the shirt off, I threw it onto the floor next to her. Looking back down at her, Veronica was wearing a black strapless bra. A great set of tits rested in that bra. She teased me with the front clasp, acting like she was going to open it and then quickly yanked her hands away. Finally she undid the clasp, moved it open slowly and then quickly pulled it completely open. It dropped to the floor. Veronica's tits were relatively perky. They didn't really sag like expected with time. Her nipples were a dark pinkish color. She closed her eyes as and rubbed her hands up and down her body. Starting at her thighs she pressed into her soft skin, and when she got to her breasts she gave them a little squeeze. "You like what you see?" she asked me in a sultry voice. "Of course. You're beautiful." "Aww you're so sweet." I just wanted to fuck the shit out of her at that moment. Still on the floor Veronica moved back close to me. She looked into my eyes and rested my cock between her tits. Pushing her breasts together with her arms, I lifted my torso up and down so I cock slide nicely between her perky tits. While titty fucking her was great, I really just wanted my cock inside of her. Finally, after a couple minutes I think she was ready to stop playing games. Veronica got off her knees and stood up. Right in front of me she undid the button on the shorts. She pulled them to the ground along with a pair of black underwear she had on. Her pussy was completely shaved, looking like a Brazilian wax. There she was, a much older woman, standing completely naked before me. Meanwhile, I was sitting there with my cock doing an impression of the Empire State Building. Honestly I never thought this was the situation I would be in, especially after feeling like this was going to be the worst weekend of my life getting stranded in Miami. But here I was, about to get laid by a soccer mom. "Paul I want you inside of me. I want your rock hard cock in my pussy." She slowly walked towards me. She straddled her left leg on one side of me and her right leg on the other. An inch from my face was her pussy. She rested her hands on my shoulders for support, and lowered herself down onto my shaft. With my hand I helped to guide it inside of her. Finally, she was able to sit down on it. Veronica's leg muscles pushed her body up and down. I tried to do my best to push up so my cock would go as deep in as possible. After a couple motions, she started to pant slightly as if she were jogging down the street. As time went on I could feel her grip on my shoulders tighten as the feeling of pleasure came over her. I took more time in between breathes. My eyes easily rolled back inside my head. There was a sense of euphoria with each movement of her body up and down. I wasn't sure how long I could last before I would blow my load. Her moaning started getting louder and louder as time went on. I almost fell like I should turn the television on to drown out the noise, but I didn't want to stop to look for the remote. The people in the neighboring rooms must have heard us going at it. It would have been impossible not to. Every so often I would take my hand and grab her tits. I would give them a little squeeze, and rub my thumbs over her nipples. After a couple minutes I couldn't take anymore. I felt like I was going to explode. I tapped her on her leg and told her it was time. She jumped off of me immediately and got back on the floor on her hands and knees. Veronica took the head of my cock in her mouth again, and almost instantaneously I spewed out a gallon of cum. She swallowed and then licked her lips with her tongue. Veronica laid on the floor with her back on the ground and immediately started laughing again. Not knowing what to make the situation I just sat there staring at her. Eventually she opened her mouth and said, "Wow I haven't been fucked like that in years. You were great Paul." "Thanks, you too Veronica." "Now aren't you glad our flights got cancelled?" This Deserted Warehouse Place How will a woman make ends meet? How will a woman meet her end? The Force says it has a tradition. But not much of one; of seeing things through, of not stopping 'til the job is done, of doing whatever it takes. The Force says it has a track record. But not much of one; everything is on the up; assault, murder, rape all on the up. So here I am, searching now in the name of tradition; searching now in the name of track record; searching now hoping for applause. Searching now, in this place, this deserted warehouse place, searching; hoping for recognition. The Force also says it has a problem. But not much of one; just the old belief that the Force never catches the really important criminals, never catches the ones that matter, never catches the rapists, the murderers or the muggers. My fear told me 'no', my head told me 'no', but I listened to my heart and so I came to this deserted warehouse place. This deserted warehouse place. Problems? Tradition? Track record? The Force doesn't know the meaning of the bloody words, not in the fucking slightest. The victims are the ones with problems, the families of the murdered, the girls who can only think about the mistakes they made walking home this way or that way. The victims are the ones who suffer from tradition and track record – not the fucking Force. But I already think I might have made a mistake tonight leaving home, leaving home and coming here. It is not my problem. Not mine. Not this problem and it never will be. It is his problem. His murder, his dirty fucking rape and it always will be – but I am here and he is not. It is gone midnight and I cannot keep calm. I've drunk too bloody much again and I've already got a thumping fucking headache. I've drunk too much and that's why I'm here. The air is too hot and the warehouse too quiet and I miss my man, I miss my mum and I wish I wasn't me, Sarah Jessica Howard. I get out my gun. I place my finger on the trigger and my senses come alive. 'Hello who's there?' I shout. The space is large and I can't hide. The men I seek are thugs, thugs and rapists, thugs and rapists and murderers. 'It's Detective Sergeant Howard,' I tell them. 'What the hell do you want, Detective? It's past midnight. Fuck off now or you will be next' 'I know,' I tell him. 'But we have our traditions, we have our track record and we have our problems. So I'm here.' 'Are you drunk, Detective? What the fuck's wrong with you?' There is no one in the station when I get down there. No one there but we have a problem. I will fix it. Where the fuck is Johnson, Detective bloody Inspector Johnson. It's his problem, his track record. But my tradition. I must see it through. The team has gone. I sit down and drain the last dregs from a cold pot of tea and wonder what to do. So here I am, half a bottle of fiery liquid later. Here I am in this deserted warehouse place. 'Come on out,' I tell them, 'and let's have a chat.' But the men stay where they are hidden away, watching me. 'I'll tell you this story, shall I Detective?' I stay silent, silent and watching. 'Once there was this friend of mine. All this friend kept on doing was worrying about his problems, his track record and worrying about putting them right. In fact he wondered so much about putting them right that his problems just kept getting worse and worse.' 'I'm no friend of yours' I tell him; as I tighten my trigger finger, tighten it for him. Across the dusty floor and over the debris. Over the debris and around another corner, across another dusty floor. In this deserted warehouse place I am taking my life in my hands, taking my life in my hands and playing with my soul. 'You're not listening Detective. I am six people, I am six people and six murderers, six people and six rapists, six people who, if you come another step, Detective, will use you to add to the problems of The Force. Go home Detective, go home and pour yourself another comforting drink.' 'I fucking well am home you bastards, home and itching to fix the problem for myself whether there's one of you, six of you or sixteen of you.' 'Is that what you think Detective?' I hear him shout. 'Really, you think that you will get us, get us and arrest us, arrest us and see us brought to justice?' 'Yes,' my fear makes me prattle. 'Yes,' I feel myself nod. 'What about Bill Johnson?' he asks. 'Where's Bill Johnson?' 'Bill's gone home,' I smile, 'I'm here to fix the problem. Not Bill, he's gone home.' Problems. Tradition. Track record. I want applause, applause and recognition. On this deserted warehouse place floor, under this deserted warehouse place roof, in this deserted warehouse place building, this is when I see it, see it clearly in his eyes, in his eyes and all their eyes – eyes that come from shadows. This is when the penny finally drop, drop, drops. I am here, here and alone, here and alone and about to become a problem. 'You should have gone home Detective, home and stayed away.' It was a familiar voice, different to before, familiar and different but full of fear, hate and loathing. 'Bill Johnson,' I sound surprised but I shouldn't have been. Another voice, a voice also full of fear and hate but a voice with not quite so much loathing. 'Welcome, to this deserted warehouse place Sarah, Sarah Jessica Howard, Detective Sergeant Sarah Jessica Howard,' the voice says. 'It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm ... well ... I suppose I'm your problem, me and my gang, me and my gang and Bill Johnson, we are your problem.' But I don't acknowledge him, them. I simply raise my arm, raise my arm and steady my wrist, steady my wrist and aim at the shadow between the eyes of my problem. I move a few steps forward, a few steps nearer and then stop. Stop to stare into the darkness now populated by shadows, shadows and fear – cold, sweat-trickling fear. My problem knows who I am, knows who I am and is already playing out the scene, the scene where my golden hair falls loose, falls loose and my gun bounces away, away on the dirty floor of this deserted warehouse place. My mind plays out the same scene and I am not sure how to stop it. 'Sarah, you shouldn't have come, you shouldn't have come but then you should have gone. Gone when you had the chance, the chance to go. But now it's too late, too late and ...' 'Shut up Bill,' my finger tightened, squeezed a few more seconds away from the life expectancy of my problem. The eyes of Bill Johnson look straight past your steadied arm, straight past and straight through. He strains in the dark but looks straight through you. You know The Problem is undressing you, undressing you in the shadows, seeing your naked body writhing, writhing, writhing, but Bill Johnson looks straight through you and into the space beyond. He knows of course of the gun in your hand, the gun in your hand and the prayer on your lips, he knows of the gun in your hand and the prayer on your lips. That he will win and you will lose. He will win and you will lose – My mind is full of doubt, full of panic. Panic and doubt. 'You're bloody stupid,' says Bill Johnson, Detective Inspector Bill Johnson. 'You could have had promotion. Promotion but you're too stupid.' But it's not fucking promotion I am thinking of right now. Right now it's fucking doubt, doubt and fucking panic, doubt and panic and fucking fear. 'Couldn't have a nicer problem to sort out,' says The Problem. 'Nice and tasty, tasty and nice.' I know now that he has moved in his mind. The Problem has moved in his mind, beyond, beyond, beyond – beyond my long golden hair falling loose and my naked body writhing, writhing, writhing and into a place where my mind can't yet go. Bill is still staring. Staring through me, through me and behind me. I can't look back have to look forward. Forward at The Problem, forward at Bill, forward at the emerging shadows. One shadow, two shadows, three shadows – my eyes dart around and The Problem laughs – four shadows, five shadows ...... I am a Detective, a bloody good Detective. A Detective who cares about tradition, track record and fixing problems, a Detective who knows that The Problem said six and you can only count five shadows. Does he mean five and Bill, or six and Bill? Is Bill number six? Now my mind is numb, numb and confused, confused and scared. Can I see all the shadows or is there one more? In a second, a chaotic second of catastrophic confusion I swing round, swing round and see number six bearing down on me. I fire but my aim is gone. My aim is gone and I am gone. Gone, gone, gone, My hair, my golden hair, my long golden hair is falling loose and my gun is bouncing away on the dirty, dusty floor of this deserted warehouse place and my mind is already playing out the scene with my naked body writhing, writhing, writhing. But still, even though I am lost, lost and gone, still my thoughts, fuzzy and frenzied, cannot go beyond my naked body writhing. I am a good, bloody Detective, a good, bloody twenty six year old Detective, a female Detective who cares about tradition and track record – and promotion, ambition and fixing problems. But this time, this last time, this final time The Problem would be fixing you. I shout, 'Why Bill?' But then I am lost, lost and gone, gone, gone. My body is not yet naked or writhing. Not yet naked but I feel my coat removed, my coat removed and my shirt ripped open, my shirt ripped open and my legs spread, my legs spread and my jeans pulled down, pulled down and off. I am not yet writhing, not yet naked but I know that The Problem is looking at the flimsy covering of material. The material covering my crotch, my crotch that will soon be lost. The material is gripped. Gripped and pulled, gripped and pulled and torn away. I scream – scream, scream, scream. But no one hears, no one hears in this deserted warehouse place. My shirt is ripped, ripped and torn, ripped and pulled away. Now I am naked, naked and gone, naked and lost, naked and spread. Then I am writhing, writhing, writhing and The Problem is fucking, fucking, fucking and Bill is laughing, laughing, laughing. The Problem is fucking - he's a fucking problem. The Problem fucks, The Problem fucks and the shadows fuck, the shadows fuck and even Bill fucks and I am writhing, writhing, writhing, naked, naked, naked and gone, gone, gone. I am fucked. Your mind goes beyond naked, beyond writhing, beyond naked and writhing and sees you fucked, fucked, fucked. Sees you spread on the dirty, dusty floor of this deserted warehouse place. Sees you spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered...... They turn you over. No, no, no, no, no, no, no... Turn you over into the dirt, into the dust, into the shadows of this deserted warehouse place. Your mouth kisses the floor, the cold, dusty floor and you cry out. Cry out for everyone to hear, yet no-one hears. You feel the fingers, the probing, searching digits and then you are spread again only differently this time. And your mind sees you differently spread. Different spread, different place, new place, new to you, never before, new to you – new to The Problem, new to the shadows and new to Bill. Yet, turned over, turned over and face down, you are once more spread on the dirty, dusty floor of this deserted warehouse place. Again your mind sees you spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered...... only differently this time. You cry, you cry and scream, you cry and scream and beg. But still you are spread and entered. I am left alone. Face down, face down and left alone. I am still breathing – that is something. I have been spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered, spread and entered...... many times, many times face up and then face down. Face down and then face up - spread and entered. Deep and full. I am full, full of them. I am covered, covered with them. My mind now seeks the place where I am naked, naked and writhing, - writhing, writhing, writhing. That place would be a good place compared to where my mind is now. I am not left alone for long. Ardour restored, restored and erect, I am not left alone for long. My hair, my golden hair, my long, golden hair is loose, loose and dirty from the dust on the floor of this deserted warehouse place. My dirty hair is gripped and I am pulled to my knees. Pulled to my knees. I am covered with them and full of them. I drip, drip, drip .... Pulled to my knees with my head forced back. My mouth is open, open and waiting, open and ready – not willing but ready. My last place. This is not new but I am not willing. Not willing but open. Open and then full. I am gagged, gagged and full. My throat is full, my mouth is full and my lips are stretched. I am open but not willing. Then my face is touching a groin, touching a groin which makes me realise that before I was not full. Filled but not full. Gagged but not full. Now I am full. Full of solid, full of liquid – full, full, full. A thrust. A spurt. A splutter. I am covered with them. I am full of them. Brief relief. Then again you are opened and filled, opened and filled, opened and filled, opened and filled, opened and filled, opened and filled. Opened and filled by The Problem, opened and filled by the shadows, opened and filled by Bill. Bill has his fill, takes his fill and you are filled with Bill. You are full of them, covered with them. They are your pain and your refreshment. My refreshment and my pain. My mind now seeks the place where I am naked, naked and writhing, - writhing, writhing, writhing. That place would be a good place compared to where my mind is now. Then they are gone. Gone from me, but still here. Here and gloating, gloating and pleased, pleased that they have had me, filled me, spread me, entered me. I am exhausted. Am I dead? Dead would be blessed relief from where my mind is now. I know they enjoyed me, enjoyed me and had me. I am fucked. I have been fucked. Fucked by The Problem, fucked by the shadows, fucked by Bill. 'She's your problem now Bill,' laughs my problem, The Problem. 'Your problem to sort out, sort out for good.' I sense Bill approach, approach and look down, look down on my exposed body. His own naked flesh replaced inside his trousers, replaced but growing again. 'Ok,' says Bill, 'Ok, you go, I'll finish her.' The Problem takes his shadows and they go. Go, happy that they have had me and filled me, filled me and covered me. They go. I hear them go. It's just Bill and me now. Me and Bill. The two of us in this deserted warehouse place. 'One more time maybe Detective Sergeant, Detective Sergeant Howard, Sarah Jessica Howard. One more time for me to enjoy.' I am weak, weak and exhausted, exhausted and fucked. Fucked but I find some strength and I say .... 'Do what you like Johnson. I know you have to kill me. I'm dead already.' It's the early hours of a cold January day, a cloudy day, a dry day. But a cold day. It's your first day, first day on the Force. You know nothing of the reality of tradition, the reality of track record or the reality of any problems. It's your first day and you can't wait to see what lies ahead ...... Now it's come to this, this end, this way on this floor of this deserted warehouse place. I miss my man, I miss my mum and I wish I wasn't me, Sarah Jessica Howard. I know that I must be hurting outside as well as in. I have been spread and entered, opened and filled many times. But I am numb, numb to the cold against my naked body and numb to Detective Inspector Bill Johnson. 'Fuck you once more Howard. Take that body, your lovely bloody body and fill you again.' I have a bloody body. A body of blood. I couldn't look at him, I turn away. 'What do you see Howard?' I look away but say, 'I don't know what I see Johnson.' 'Well I know what you see,' he says, 'You see me, Bill Johnson, ready to finish you off. You see pleasure yet you feel pain, pain and regret, regret that you won't see another day. How does that make you feel Howard?' My eyes flicker, and a tear spills out, spills out and rolls down my cheek. I am crying. Crying for my man, crying for my mum and crying for me, Sarah Jessica Howard. My mind still seeks the place where I am naked, naked and writhing, - writhing, writhing, writhing. That place would be a good place compared to where my mind is now. Now on the dusty floor of this dirty warehouse place. I see Bill Johnson smiling down, smiling and laughing, laughing and reaching for his groin. 'Please Bill,' I whisper, 'please just kill me. Kill me and let me go.' Again I look up. Again I see Detective Inspector Bill Johnson. Again I whisper. 'Please.' Bill is ready to fuck me again. Ready to fuck, fucked and ready. Ready to die. I'm ready to die. 'Okay Howard,' Bill replaces his flesh, 'Let's just get it over with. You are a stupid girl, stupid and brave, brave and ready to die.' I feel his hand at my throat and his gun at my head, at my head and between my eyes. I cry for the day I won't see, I cry for the child I won't bear and I cry because I am me. I feel the press of the steel and utter a prayer from my lips. 'Quickly Johnson, do it' I say, 'do it and be quick. You've killed me already so just let me die.' I feel his hand tighten at my throat and I sense his finger tighten on the trigger. Tighten on the trigger and squeeze. Your mind is numb. You ought to feel something – pieces of your life perhaps or images of loved ones already passed; you ought to feel something but your mind is numb. 'Goodbye Howard.' The sound explodes, the gun explodes, my mind explodes. I am still numb. Now I can sense my past, now I can sense images of loved ones already passed. Is this what dead feels like? I can still cry – cry, cry, cry. I cry for my man, I cry for my mum I cry because I am me. Then the sounds become clear, clear and real, real and nearby. 'Howard, Sergeant Howard, you okay?' I feel light, light of body, light of head. No longer held by the throat. No longer open and spread. I open my eyes and blink. This deserted warehouse place is now full, full of light, light and people, people I know, my people, my team they are here and Bill Johnson is not. Bill Johnson is dead; Detective Inspector Bill Johnson lies shot, shot between the eyes. I shiver into the blanket, the blanket now around my shoulders and I cry. I miss my man, I miss my mum but I am glad to be me. Glad to be alive, and glad to be me. In this deserted warehouse place I am taking my life in my hands, taking my life in my hands and playing with my soul. In this deserted warehouse place. I Sarah Jessica Howard am still alive. I have won. I have won and he has lost. THE END THIS Doesn't Happen Every Day! "So how's things?" John asked as he sat my bottle of MGD on the bar in front of me. "Same old same old. You know how it is John," was my less than enthusiastic reply. I took the first drink of my beer. It was so good to have a cold beer after the recent heat wave that had strangled the area. John nodded his head in agreement, glanced down the bar to check on his clients and then leaned over the bar, apparently wishing to tell me something that he didn't want others to hear. "That may change," he said in a voice barely audible to me. "I don't know, but I think you may have someone checking you out over there," he said as he glanced behind me to my left. "Oh, Art, my man! She's a looker too! Legs all the way up to her ass!!" he added with a grin before he resumed his duties. I tried to use the mirror behind the liquor ahead of me, but couldn't see any suspects. I figured I'd look in a moment, but first things first - my beer was getting warm! Finishing the first bottle quickly, I had another in front of me in an instant, thanks to John knowing me so well. I nodded my thanks to him and as he picked up the empty he glanced over behind me, very nonchalantly, and started grinning. "Hottie on the move!" he mouthed silently to me and walked away. Within several seconds there was a person seating themselves on the stool to my left. I glanced to my side and was surprised. A leggy, voluptuous, dark haired angel was sitting down beside me! Her skirt 'accidentally' slid way up her thighs as she squirmed into the bar seat and I took this opportunity to scan the flesh she exposed to me. She didn't try to pull her skirt down, so I hoped that was a good sign. "Was this seat taken?" I heard her ask. Looking up from my pleasurable distraction of her legs, I saw she was smiling at me. "No. It was waiting for you," I answered, smiling back at her. "My name is Art. Glad to meet you," I said as I extended my hand to her. "Oh my! An old fashioned gentleman!" she exclaimed with a soft chuckle as she took my hand. Her skin was soft and I immediately had thoughts of how it would feel stroking my quickly enlarging erection. "It's nice to be making your acquaintance. I'm Jill," she replied and snapped me back to the reality of the smoke filled bar we were in. We began talking, and both continued drinking. Our conversation jumped from subject to subject and the drinks flowed down us like water over Niagara Falls. Jill had ordered another round for us, and when she picked up her beer, she 'clinked' it against mine and said, "Over the teeth, onto the tongue. Touch me just right and you'll make me cum!" A wide smile immediately appeared on my face. "I like the concept behind your toast!" I said as my hand began sliding slowly up her thigh from her knee. We continued talking and I was watching her as my hand rubbed her bare leg from just above the knee to just a half inch or so below her crotch. She seemed not to be bothered by it, so I didn't stop. As we talked and drank, I continued to enjoy her leg, noticing that she was ever so slowly parting her legs further and further apart. She had also slid a bit closer to the edge of the bar stool so since my hormones were fighting to take control of me, I surrendered and allowed them to do so. I slid my hand up her leg with my fingers lightly caressing her inner thigh. I went far enough up her leg that I felt the light touch of her bush against the side of my little finger. With that simple act, any doubt that she enjoyed my attention was eliminated. "Hmmm," she sighed. "I like your touch. So gentle and sensuous." "And that's just one hand!" I said with a grin. "Wanna see how both would feel?" Our conversation continued, now leaning more heavily toward the sexual side of life. "You drink MGD?" she queried at one point, grinning devilishly at me. "I though you'd want a Bush." I chuckled before responding. I leaned close to her and said, "I like warm Bush and cold MGD." She began laughing as hard as I was and when she lowered her hands from pretending to try to hide her face, her right hand landed on my leg with two of her fingers pressing against my fly. I could tell when she noticed the throbbing erection I had. She just sat there looking at me, seemingly surprised when she felt the rapid pulsations of my desire for her. "So," she began as her hand slid directly over the rock hard bulge she had encountered. "Is this because of me?" she asked as she rubbed the throbbing area of my jeans. In my somewhat intoxicated state, my humor was let loose. "Well, if you're the cause, you should be the cure as well." "I can cure that spasm for you," she whispered in my ear as her tongue ran lightly over my earlobe. Her hand gently squeezed the thickness under her hand. "What would you do if I told you that you caused my pussy to get wet?" she asked softly. Moving in my chair, not only to get more comfortable but also to give Jill easier access to the flesh her hand was coaxing into insanity from the lust she was bring out in it. Her touch was incredible, even through my jeans! "Before I can do anything," I began, "I'd need to examine it. Closely examine it." She slid to the very edge of the stool, turned to face me and parted her legs widely so her left knee was touching mine and her right knee was behind the bar stool I was on. She took my hand and discretely placed it against her private heat. The back of my fingers rubbed over her soft hair and my index finger, seemingly without my control, slid between the puffy lips of her pussy. She was incredibly wet and I thought she was going to cum with just that one touch! "Ahh!" she gasped as she inhaled quickly. "Oh, Art!" she said softly. "I think we better go," she said as she pressed my hand tighter against her pussy. "You need to get this taken care of!" she said as her hand rubbed over my hardness. I motioned John to get my tab and I squared up with him, and of course, included a generous tip for him. "Have a good night, Sir!" I said as I handed him the completed credit slip. "You too, Art!" he replied with a rare, happy tone to his voice. "See you tomorrow?" he asked with a 'you old hound dog' wink. Jill and I walked to my apartment which was only a block away and when I unlocked the door, we went inside. As soon as the door was closed, she turned and gave me one of the most exciting kisses of my life! "Now," she said as her hands began fumbling with my belt. "I wanna see what you've been teasing me with!" In almost no time, she had my jeans to the floor and was gently rubbing her hand over my swollen rod. "My God! You're big," she said as she wrapped her fingers around me. "I don't think I've seen a man with one as big around as yours!" she giggled while still softly stroking it. I had nothing to say and any thought that might have crept into my brain was erased as her cool, soft lips slid agonizingly slowly over the tip. I could feel her tongue wiggling against the underside as she slowly pushed me further into her mouth. The desire to experience her taste grew so strong I soon pulled back and lifted her. "Come with me," I said as I lead her to my bedroom after I stepped out of my jeans, leaving them in a crumpled mess st the door. I lead her to the side of my California King bed and removed her blouse and placed it on the nearby chair. Her bra quickly joined it on the chair. As I squatted in front of her, I gradually pulled her skirt down, kissing the newly exposed skin of her body. With each kiss nearing her hairline, her body quivered. Once her skirt was to the floor, I turned her and laid her gently on the bed. Slowly moving in between her slowly parting legs, my kisses continued on the soft skin of her inner thighs as I progressed slowly toward her sweetness. My hands were savoring the contours of her body and she was softly moaning as her breathing became short, hot gasps of desire. Her hands were soon pulling me to her pussy, which I introduced myself to with a few flicks of my tongue. I kissed her on the narrow strip of skin between her pubic hair and her upper thigh. She moaned loudly and lifted her hips. My tongue slid quickly into her opening as my fingers found her hard clit. "Oh Jesus!" she moaned as my tongue slid up to where my fingers were massaging the evidence of her arousal. I took my time, savoring her body as if it was the most exquisite coffee I had ever tasted. My quest to coax several orgasms from her had been successful and her body was limp from them. The thin veil of perspiration that coated her entire body glistened in the dim light filtering through the window. "Come here you," she whispered as she strained to reach me in an attempt to pull me on top of her. As I covered her body with mine, my raging erection centered itself in her saturated clit. I lifted my hips and moved down slightly, giving me perfect alignment to her awaiting reward. As I moved up again, the thick head of my cock squeezed through the opening of her temple. Her hips lifted and I slid into her warm sanctuary. Still taking my time to savor every sensation she offered unto me, I slowly stroked the full length of my cock back and forth within her as I fondled and kissed her breasts, neck, and cheeks. She had several more small orgasms as I slowly climbed the mountain to the pinnacle of pleasure I sought for myself. When the peak was within sight, my tempo slowly increased. The hug her body gave my shaft as I stroked back and forth within her felt as if she had been measured and fitted for me. Her legs were now wrapped around my waist and my balls slapped the firmness of her ass with each inward thrust I made. As my thrusts continued, I felt her squeezing my shaft, her body quivered, and a yell erupted from her that was so loud I was sure the cops would come running. Her release was nothing short of amazing. I felt her cum squirting against me as I continued on my own journey to the bliss she was experiencing. It took only a few moments before I was filling her with the confirmation of my satisfaction. Having both been drained of all strength, we lay in the relative darkness as we recuperated, the silence only broken by our breathing. Eventually we had the strength to shower, after which I prepared each of us a grilled chicken salad, sprinkled with diced, honey glazed fried almonds and peanuts, a generous sprinkling of grated Jalapeno cheese, all topped with a dollop of sour cream. "Damn! This is fabulous!" Jill exclaimed as she paused from consuming her salad. "You can fuck like a dream, cook like this, and you're still single?" I chuckled and nodded my head. We soon returned to the bedroom, cuddled close together and drifted off to sleep with my arm around her shoulders and her arm and leg resting on me. Hours later, after answering a very persistent nature call, I returned to bedroom and found her laying on her stomach, totally uncovered and luring me to enjoy her again. My cock was already up for the task as I straddled her hips. Giving my shaft a thick coat of oil, I pressed the tip downward. It slid smoothly between the firm cheeks of her ass and in no time, I was pressing through the orifice of her back door. "Mmmmmmm," she moaned softly. "I was hoping you liked anal," she said as she slowly awakened. "I especially like it with a lady that an ass like you do!" I whispered back as my thickness slowly went deeper. We spent the following week together, both enjoying the sexual freedom to satisfy ourselves virtually anytime and any way we desired. In the evenings, after we returned from our jobs, we'd strip and not get dressed until we had to leave the apartment again. One night, after deciding to go to a local restaurant for our dinner, as we sat at a dimly lit table in the one corner of the establishment she suggested we have some sex for dessert. I, being the idiot I am most of the time, thought she meant back at my apartment. I soon discovered my error when, upon her return from the ladies room, she pushed the table back a bit and as she faced me, straddled my body. She positioned herself on my lap, facing me. Her firm and tastefully exposed breasts were dead in front of me as her hands quickly released my erection. Her hand positioned me at the opening of her pussy and she slid toward me, forcing my anxious flesh into her wet, warm cavity of delight. Her discrete movements were amazing. I'm certain that to look at us, someone would have thought she and I were just having a very intimate, nonchalant, lovers conversation. In reality, she was working me into ecstasy with her hip movements and gentle, pulsating squeezes of her pussy. What added to the excitement, other than the fact we screwing each other just a few feet from other diners, was the fact the we had to refrain from any vocalization of our pleasure. I soon felt her cum flowing down my shaft and working it's way into my pants. It slowly trickled down around my ready to explode sac and into my ass crack. I was certain I'd have a huge wet spot on the ass of my slacks, but I didn't care at this point for my own release was looming precariously over me. A few more of her hip gyrations and a couple squeezes from her pussy was all it took. I involuntarily began pumping my thick satisfaction into her while she continued her conquering of my resistance. Having completed our mutually enjoyable desserts, after she carefully tucked my shiny, limp cock back into my slacks, we headed to the door and I paid the check. Two days later, she had to return to her hometown and we said our farewells. The following night, I decided to stop back at the bar and touch bases with 'the gang'. I walked in and sat down at the bar. John turned, saw it was me that had entered, and grinned. "So how's things? I've not seen you in over a week!" John said as he sat a bottle of MGD on the bar in front of me. "Not the same any more! You know what I mean, John," was my reply as I sipped my beer, trying hard not to allow the smirk inside my face to expose itself. "You old hound dawg!" he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned to greet the newest customer to the bar. This Doesn't Mean I'm A Lesbian One night, Sophia visited Phoebe for dinner and a catch-up. As the evening turned to night and the red wine flowed unabated, they lost track of time. Finally, during a rare lull in the conversation, Sophia looked at the clock. "Oh my lord, look at the time! I should get going and let you get to bed." She stood up and took two wobbly steps on her high heels, her head swimming. "Get your ass back here! You're not going anywhere, sweetie," said Phoebe. "I'll put you in my room, and I'll stay on the couch." Sophia changed into a skimpy nighty of Phoebe's and was soon safely tucked up in bed. Phoebe also retired for the night. But half an hour later a strange cry from Sophia brought her friend running. Phoebe opened the door to her room. "Are you okay, hon?" It quickly became obvious that Sophia was still asleep and having a really erotic dream. She had kicked off all the bed covers and her nighty was bunched up below her tits. Her legs were spread and her hips were bucking and gyrating. In the moonlight a moist patch was clearly visible on the crotch of her pretty panties. Phoebe found herself getting turned on by the erotic sight in front of her. She had always known she was a lesbian, but had vigorously denied any feelings toward Sophia. But looking at her sexy body writhing in frustration in front of her was too much. Phoebe's hand snuck down between her thighs and began teasing her little clit. Unlike Sophia she wore no panties under her short nighty. She was surprised to discover how wet she had become in such a short time. Sophia moaned "Fuck me, Phoebe!" Phoebe was shocked, but quickly had a naughty idea. She snuck into the bedroom to find her strap-on dildo in her night stand drawer. Phoebe smiled cheekily to herself, unaware that alcohol and lust was seriously impairing her judgment. Careful not to wake Sophia, Phoebe eased her friend's panties down her legs and exposed her neatly-trimmed pussy. A questing finger confirmed that Sophia was very wet down there. Phoebe hesitated, and then she stuck her finger in her mouth. It tasted pretty much as you'd expect. Working up her courage, she positioned herself over her friend and started rubbing the dildo up and down Sophia's pussy, easing the lips apart gently. Still fast asleep, Sophia moaned "Stick it in me! I want it so bad..." "Fine!" thought Phoebe, and started pushing it into Sophia's cunt. She didn't make much headway. "Hmm, perhaps it's too big" she thought, but decided to keep trying. She twisted it as she pushed, and that helped. "Now you're really being screwed," she whispered to her sleeping friend. Phoebe got the dildo half-way in before she could shove it no further. She started thrusting it in and out, the smooth rubbery surface and Sophia's juices helping a lot. "Oh, oh, faster... harder..." mumbled Sophia. "If you say so," thought Phoebe, and started pumping the dildo furiously into Sophia's cunt. Sophia started groaning and bucking her hips, the thrusts of the imaginary lover in her dream coinciding with Phoebe's enthusiastic penetrations. Phoebe took her hand and pinched the hood of Sophia's clitoris between her two fingers. She thrusted the dildo almost all the way in as Sophia's hard clit popped out. Suddenly Sophia gasped and her eyes flew open as she awoke. She stared in horror at Phoebe, then the strap-on that connected them. Her eyes boggled as she found herself spasming in orgasm. "What the fuck do you think you're do... oooh oooooh ooooohing???" Sophia cried. Phoebe was in shock and started to pull the dildo out of Sophia. " Don't fucking stop, I'm Cuuummmiiinnnggg... oh fuuuccckkkk" Phoebe started pounding the dildo into her with force and speed. Sophia arched her back and moaned in ecstasy as she came hard on the dildo, then fell limp on the bed. Phoebe looked down at this beautiful woman, than realized what happened and pulled the dildo out of her and sat beside her friend. "God Sophia, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me..." "You're a fucking lesbian! You raped me!" "Yes, I am lesbian! And you were asking for it...Literally asking me to fuck you in your dream!" "I...I WHAT??? I was asleep!" Phoebe hung her head in shame. Sophia and Phoebe looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Sophia stared at the strap-on Phoebe had on, glistening with her pussy juice in the moonlight. Phoebe stared at Sophia's widely spread legs and reddened twat, then met her eyes. "God, she's beautiful" thought Phoebe. Sophia closed her thighs and sat up. Her nighty fell down, covering her nakedness. Her nipples still poked conspicuously through the silk, betraying her aroused state. "Where are my panties?" Phoebe pointed at the floor. Sophia picked up her underwear and pulled them on, then turned to look at her contrite friend on the bed. Punishment was clearly in order... "Take that thing off!" Sophia said with urgency. Phoebe obeyed. "I'm going to teach you a lesson, you naughty girl!" said Sophia. She pounced on Phoebe and wrestled her across her lap. "Oooh no!" cried Phoebe, who couldn't believe her luck. Sophia gave Phoebe several good smacks on her naked butt and noticed with satisfaction how quickly the skin reddened. After several more loud smacks she started squeezing and rubbing the other girl's buttocks, delighting in the feel of the girl's soft ass cheeks under her hand. Then she dug her fingers deep into Phoebe's flesh. "Owww!" said Phoebe, "That hurts!" "This is supposed to be punishment. Now shut up." Several more smacks followed and Phoebe's butt began to glow. Sophia felt some movement against her leg and discovered that Phoebe was fingering her pussy while she was being spanked. "You're not supposed to enjoy this," grumbled Sophia. Then her eye fell upon a huge dildo in the bedside table drawer. She grinned and grabbed it. "What are you doing? That's too big; I haven't tried that one yet!" Phoebe said nervously. "Giving you a taste of your own medicine!" replied Sophia wickedly. She forced Phoebe's legs apart and forced the dildo into her pussy. Encountering little resistance and much lubrication, the dildo slid deep into Phoebe's dripping tunnel. Phoebe's eyes widened as her pussy stretched further than it ever had before. Sophia started fucking Phoebe enthusiastically, while the helpless girl struggled on her lap. She started alternating thrusts with spanks across Phoebe's raw ass. "No... it hurts, oh... oh..., please Sophia don't... oooooh!" moaned Phoebe, not really wanting it to end. Sophia grabbed Phoebe's hair and brutally shoved the dildo in as deep as it would go. She couldn't decide whether she was angry or horny. "Yeow!" Tears came to Phoebe's eyes from the combined pain of her burning bottom and tortured twat, but her fingers kept rubbing her clit, building up a frantic pace. Sophia's arm started to get sore but she kept up the punishing assault, ramming it into Phoebe with a wet, slurping sound. Phoebe's gushing pussy juices ran down the dildo and over Sophia's hand. Eventually Phoebe tensed and gasped "I'm coming! Don't stop aaahhhhhhh!" Sophia slapped her ass as hard as she could, leaving Phoebe's buttocks quivering and red as they bounced in her lap. When Phoebe's ass stopped twitching Sophia yanked the dildo out of Phoebe's cunt, and then pushed her off her lap and onto the floor, where she landed with a wet thud. Sophia fell back onto the bed, squeezing her legs together in an attempt to suppress her aching desire, but then gave in and stuck a hand in her panties, finding her pussy lips gooey and swollen. A panting Phoebe climbed back on the bed. "Jesus Sophia, that was a bit rough. I won't be able to sit down for a week." "Shut up and make yourself useful." Sophia pulled her panties off and spread her pussy apart with two fingers. "Eat me Phoebe. Eat my pussy..." Phoebe hesitated. "Sophia, are you lesbian now?" "At this moment, yes" murmured Sophia. "So, what does that mean?" "I don't care. Please, just lick me." Sophia grabbed Phoebe's head and guided her mouth to her pussy. Phoebe dove in, licking the entire length of Sophia's gash before honing in on her protruding clitoris. She alternately flicked it with her tongue and sucked it into her mouth, her senses reeling with the aroma of Sophia's aroused sex. Sophia moaned gently, running her hands through Phoebe's long, soft hair. Phoebe ran her hands up Sophia's naked sides and onto her large breasts, pinching and tugging her thick, erect nipples. It wasn't long before Sophia reached her climax, practically suffocating Phoebe as she grabbed her head and mashed Phoebe's lips and teeth into her pussy. It was one of the most satisfying orgasms she had ever had. Afterwards they lay in each other's arms. Sophia gently stroked Phoebe's sore ass, breathing in the delicious smell of her hair. "I'm sorry I was so rough. Next time will be different." "We shouldn't do this again," whispered Phoebe half-heartedly. "Why not? We're just friends, doing each other a favor until my Mr. Right comes along. I've been missing out on intimacy for too long, and so have you. It doesn't mean I'm a dyke." "Well I am a dyke! This means more to me than just a friend helping a friend Sophia. I have feelings for you, and I have for awhile now." "I'm sorry Phoebe, I cannot say I am a lesbian for sure. This night was amazing! Maybe," Sophia tried to gather her thoughts, and then kissed Phoebe on the forehead, then on the mouth. Their tongues entwined, probing each other's hot, wet mouths, and they drew each other closer, their breasts mashing together. "Maybe, I could get use to this... let's just take things slow for now Phoebe. I still like men; this hasn't changed my feelings for them. " They lay in silence for a minute. "Ok, but Will you lick my pussy next time?" asked Phoebe. "No fucking way." Sophia said with a smirk while biting her lip. The End. ***** Please let me know if you liked it or if I should make another part to it. This Door Must Remain Unlocked A Two Guys Story * "This Door Must Remain Unlocked During Business Hours." Odd, I thought, that they would require a door at the rear of a building, a door whose only access is through the rudimentary storeroom and office of this small business to remain unlocked during the day. I wondered if it was possible in an emergency that people would actually find the door. Wouldn't they all pile out the front door? Nonetheless, the sign was clear and the door was unlocked. We'd made sure of that. I was thinking of other things as well as I waited. It was nearing closing time. I knew that he only locked this door when he left for the night, not when he locked the front door signaling to would-be customers that the hardware store was closed. He would lock the front door and turn some of the lights off in the front of the store as well as the neon sign outside over the door. People would know he was closed and would pass by without looking. They would be going home, work done, shopping done, ready for dinner, ready to help the kids with the homework, and TV. The same thing they did everyday of their useless lives. My partner and I stood in the shadows created by the overhang of various buildings and the occasional overhead lighting for the alleyway. We'd brought our nondescript car like we always did. We wore clothes similar to what folks in this town wore. Anyone looking at us would know that we were from out of town because they probably knew everyone in this godforsaken, one horse town, but we looked like them and there were undoubtedly others who looked like they did who were not from here, but 'from around here'. It had always worked before and we had no reason to suspect that it wouldn't work tonight. We had learned he was prompt about closing. He had a wife and daughter at home so he cleaned up a bit, straightened the merchandise, put his deposit together and left. He always left by the back door, the one that was to remain unlocked during business hours. His car was not ten feet from us, but unfailingly he walked across the alley to the bank on the street behind his store with the deposit. He'd use his key and put the deposit down a chute. It was called a hardware store, but it was more like a general store. This town didn't have a Wal-Mart or anything like it so he sold a lot of what you might expect a Wal-Mart to sell including appliances and electronics. The good folks here didn't use credit cards much either. They tended to use cash. What nice folks they were. Cash, not credit cards, not checks, would be in the deposit bag. It wouldn't take but about half a minute. He'd walk into the back office and find us there. We don't say anything so there would be no voice to remember. We'd each have our Glocks out, our faces covered. A motion with the muzzle of the gun for his hands to go up usually sufficed. We'd tie him up, take the deposit bag, and be on our way. It was about three minutes before closing. We pulled on our gloves. I gave the hinges on the door one last spray of WD 40 to keep everything as quiet as possible. A nod from my partner scouting the alley for one last time and we pulled our ski masks over our faces. In almost the same motion I opened the door and we were inside the small storage area. Having scouted the inside as well as the outside, we made our way quickly and quietly to the small office. My partner entered the office first. I heard something like a cross between a gulp and a yelp. Entering right behind him I saw we had company. In all our watching the store no one had ever been in the backroom at closing. Now I saw two women. Two terrified women to be exact. Their hands were raised. My partner hissed, "One sound and all three of you are dead meat. You got that!" They shook their heads vigorously. They got it. I realized that we didn't have time to tie them up, or, for that matter, do anything different than what we'd planned. We had to wait for him to show up and we had to do it very quietly. We'd been doing this for about five years. We both had jobs we worked at four days a week. The three day weekends we used for scouting our next mark using a table of random numbers to help us select these types of towns around the country. Occasionally we'd have to take a day off work if we needed an extra day or two for the enterprise. Using the random numbers would help us avoid patterns, we hoped. There was a pattern, however, and it might be unmistakable. Small towns, cash oriented businesses with little security, and perhaps some other details made up our pattern. The problem for police is that we spread out pretty much across the country. The holdups didn't yield much and we looked as if we were locals. We hoped that this would keep these small holdups off the national list of unsolved crimes. We didn't make a lot on any one weekend, but we didn't need any of it to live on so it was growing in the stock market. We planned to quit when we had enough to live the good life probably in Mexico. Now here we were facing the first major bump of our careers. If these two women would cooperate, we could yet pull it off. We had only about five or ten minutes to wait, then we'd be gone. Even now I could hear him cleaning up in the showroom. He usually didn't take long. When he was satisfied with his cleaning and straightening, he'd bring the cash back here. I think we held our breath while we waited. After a couple of minutes I actually looked at the women. It had to be mother and daughter. It must be the family I surmised. Dad would be very cooperative if he thought his wife and daughter were in danger. We both moved to the corners of the office and had the women lie down on the floor. We tried to position them so that he wouldn't see them as he entered the office. We placed ourselves so that we'd be out of sight as well. I stood behind the door ready to push it closed when he came in. We waited. With the women face down, I took more time to actually look at them. Both had great bodies. I'd noticed the very appealing racks on both before we put them face down on the floor. Beyond those great racks, were two curvy bodies and very pretty faces. Dark shoulder length hair on the mom and very long dark hair on the younger completed a couple of very attractive women. I was having nice thoughts about pulling the pants down on the younger one who lay near me. I was fantasizing about feeling that cute round butt against my groin, my cock pushed up inside her, but we wouldn't be leaving any DNA here. Having a terrified woman wasn't part of the plan and certainly having a terrified, raped woman was well outside our strategy for this enrichment scheme. In fact, neither of us had loaded guns. We didn't want to risk killing someone. We relied on great planning rather than on force. The more I looked at the really fine ass of the younger one in her tight black pants, the more I was willing to reconsider, however. Mom looked pretty good, too. She was also in slacks. Hunter green with a lighter green top that really had showed off her rack. Her hips had spread, from having the kid, I presumed. Her skin wouldn't be as soft and she wouldn't be as tight, but these differences would be trivial. Might just have to use the other entrance if I was looking for a tight fit, I thought. We had left the door was ajar. We heard steps, then it swung toward me as he entered. I closed it firmly, but didn't slam it. In a flash he sized up the situation. He would have had to have been a dunce not to. Wife and daughter on the floor and two masked men with guns should be clear to anyone. "Don't shoot," he said immediately handing me the cash and raising his arms. I took it. "We're going to tie everyone up to give us a few minutes head start," I said in what I hoped was a matter-of-fact, non-threatening tone. "We're going to tie mister to the desk chair and the ladies back to back. So, sir, if you would please sit here," I indicated the desk chair. He sat. We had him remove his shirt for use as a gag. I watched everyone as my partner took the plastic ties we carried for this purpose and began to secure him to the chair. Once tied down, he gagged him. The girls were to be more of a problem. We decided to attach the wife to the legs of the desk. Arms behind her back held together with the plastic ties looped around the legs of the desk at one end, her legs fastened to the other end. When we finished, she was lying on her side. It was probably not very comfortable. I looked around for a gag complaining out loud at the lack of usable material. "Do it like this," the girl said jumping up. She went to her mother and pulled her shirt up to her face covering mainly her mouth. Her mother started to let out a scream but, fortunately, thought better of it. I could see why. She wasn't wearing a bra. The bra-less look must have been quite risqué in this town. As I said earlier, she had quite a rack. It took some restraint for both of us to ignore the opportunity to at least explore her body. The girl took a plastic tie from my partner which she fastened around her mother's head holding her shirt in place in the manner of a loose gag. "For me," the girl said pulling her shirt off, "you can use my shirt as a gag, too." She was looking at us holding the shirt over her shoulder. Like her mother she was bra-less and just as well built, though obviously younger. She stood there, shirt over her shoulder, other arm on her hip, half naked with a come hither look worthy of a fifties movie. I heard a gulp from her mother on the floor. Neither of us moved. We just gawked. She ranged somewhere between cute and gorgeous. I knew we needed to get out of there, but she was offering. She radiated sex. I took a deep breath and started to back out the door with my partner. Maybe we wouldn't tie her up. We'd just get the hell out of here. The young girl's look suddenly turned angry. "Aren't you going to rape us," she asked clearly disappointed. My partner and I kept moving albeit more slowly. "Wait a minute," she said getting in my face. "Are you really leaving?" I nodded. Her anger flared. "Nothing ever happens in the miserable town. You two are the first thing to happen here in my lifetime and now you're just going to leave? You can't do that!" She actually stamped her foot. "I want to be raped!" In a panic she covered her mouth. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows arched. It was sort of a "what did I just say" picture. None of us could believe what she'd just said. Through the hand covering her mouth she said more quietly, "I was lying there on the floor thinking that you'd rape us." She lowered her hand. Her face was blotchy with her anger. "You guys don't have any diseases do you," she asked trying to look through my mask. I shook my head no. She looked from one to the other of us. My partner shook his head no also. "Damn it," she said more loudly now, stamping her little foot again on several broken tiles of the linoleum floor. The linoleum was laid right on concrete so her stamping made very little noise. "You can't just leave. Nothing ever happens here. And you're just going to leave? How can you do that? It isn't enough to just rob us, you have to rape us, too," she complained. "You have to rape us . . . , or the memory won't be right," she finished almost softly full of self-pity. She was working herself into a panic. "Take it easy, honey," I said. I'd put my gun in my waistband and took her by the shoulders. The warmth of her skin and the proximity of her naked boobs were getting to me. "You don't want to be raped. It could hurt. You could get pregnant. . . ," my voice just died off. I really didn't know what to say. I wanted desperately to shove my cock up her warm pussy, but I was trying to tell her that was a bad idea. She looked at me as though I was crazy. She drew a breath and glared at me, "I want to be raped. At least that would be something happening around here! It would be something I could tell my friends, my children, my grandchildren!" She tore herself out of my grasp and pulled her slacks off. Her shoes landed separately across the room as she kicked them off at the same time. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my partner duck as one came quite close to his head. She stood facing us now in just her panties. Her nipples were hard. My cock was hard. She stepped close again. Taking my unresisting hand she placed it on her breast. The effect was electric for both of us. Her eyes widened, she sucked in her breath. My cock about tore the fabric of my jeans trying to get out. "Please," she said almost whining now. "If you don't, I could get to be an old maid and still be a virgin." She stopped, looking pleadingly at us. "You can both do it. I wouldn't mind." She stopped again. "I'll clean up real good afterward so their won't be any stuff left for them to catch you with." Her pleading drifted into silence. Neither of us moved. I glanced at her mom. She no longer looked terrified. I could swear her nipples were hard now. "Dad sells mattresses. We can do it on one of them." She looked from me to my partner again. She noticed that I was looking at her mother. I knew her mother could see through the knit shirt that only partially covered her head. "You could do her, too." Now she knelt by her mother. She took hold of the Spandex pants at the waist. Before I could get the word 'don't' out she jerked them off her mother's hips. Purposely she dragged the panties down with the slacks. From her neck to her knees her mom was naked. Perfect boobs and a neatly trimmed snatch. She twisted some, but futilely. Then she lay still looking at me through the shirt. "You'd like to have these gentlemen fuck you, wouldn't you mom?" Her mom didn't move. What the hell was she thinking asking her mother if she'd like us to fuck her? The girl passed her finger along mom's slit. She stood and came to me. She pulled my mask up past my mouth. I didn't resist. She forced her finger into my mouth. It tasted of sex. "She wants it, too," she breathed into my face. "You can taste it, can't you," she insisted. Her breath was soft. "Come on. It won't take long. You can both fuck us and then leave." I looked into her mouth just to watch her tongue move as she offered herself to me. She held her wet finger in front of my mask then, with my eyes following, she slowly moved it down her body, down her breast, circling her nipple, under her breast, slowly down to her navel. She kept it in motion as she made it glide to her panties, then inside. I watched holding my breath. A dark spot had appeared on her pink panties. Her finger very slowly disappeared inside but I could see its outline as it found that marvelous passage. In and out it went. She closed her eyes; I stared. She brought it out and presented it again to my mouth. She didn't have to force my lips this time. I opened my mouth just barely enough for her to slide it through my partially open lips. It was sex on her finger, different than her mother, but sex nevertheless. She slid it back and forth in my mouth, just the way she had in her pussy. I almost came in my pants. She bent and removed her panties. Placing my hand on her pussy, she gently encouraged a finger inside. Soft, warm, and very wet. I moved it in and out. It was all over even before, once again, she breathed, "Please." I nodded. I'd lost all control. She opened dad's drawer and extracted a pair of wire cutters from a small box of tools. In the box was a revolver. She closed the box and cut the ties holding her mother. Helping her to her feet she said, "Come on mom, let's get fucked." For the first time her dad uttered something. It was unintelligible to me, but she said, "Sure dad, you can watch. I know what you'd like, but you'll have to wait." We headed toward the showroom. The girl led wheeling dad still tied to the chair. Through the windows I could see a darkened street lit at intervals with the yellow brilliance of sodium vapor lights. The light cast shadows on the displays turning everything in its path a grotesque shade of yellow. Refrigerators, washing machines, vacuum cleaners abutted large professional tools. On the other side of the showroom were trays of nuts, bolts and screws. The room smelled of cutting oil and new appliances. In a walled off corner lit only by the reflection of the street lights outside was a mattress showroom area. It had a king sized and a queen sized mattress set up as if on beds. Their whiteness yellowed by the street lights contrasted with the old wood of storage cabinets used a hundred years ago for storing who knows what. She positioned dad at the foot of the mattresses strategically between both. She smiled a very broad smile at him then with some difficulty she maneuvered his pants to his knees exposing a very hard cock. He would watch his wife and daughter being used by some unknown masked gunmen. Most apparently he was very interested is seeing what happened. Turning back to me she took the gun from my waistband and set it on the floor. It was almost as if she knew it wasn't loaded. She stripped off my ski mask. I could breathe more easily and see more clearly. Apparently not very experienced she had some difficulty with my pants, but her tenacity saw her through and soon my hard cock had become her single focus of interest. Stroking my balls and pulling gently on my cock she backed to the king mattress. As I knelt on the mattress she slid into the middle where she lay back against some fancy pillows there for sale. She spread her legs. "Just take it easy," she said her eyes belying her earlier enthusiasm. I said nothing as I positioned myself against her opening. I pushed. There was moisture on the outside, but she was very tight. Too tight. With a change of tactics I lay with my head between her legs. The fragrance of her excitement was intoxicating. I opened my mouth and began to lick the outside of her pussy with long, slow strokes. She grabbed my ears and tightened her legs as if to hold my head in place. Using my tongue I forced her open. I forced my tongue up inside her passage. She was moaning loudly now. I continued, letting her moans grow louder and louder. As I moved to her clit I found it was a hard nub. I encircled it with my lips and sucking it into my mouth, then flicked it repeatedly with the tip of my tongue. Within a minute she was bucking and gushing. She held my head tightly against her pussy as I brought her to her first climax. There was no stopping. She dragged my head to her breasts. I positioned myself again at her entrance and with her fluids for lubrication was able to make headway with my cock. While I licked and sucked on her nipples, her pussy sucked me further and further inside. When I felt it, the resistance deep in her passage, I gave a sudden thrust. Her response was as predictable as the blood. It was now a used mattress. Of course, I have no idea how long it hurts or if it even hurts all girls the same. I do know that for this girl the discomfort was inconsequential as she clamped onto my cock and began to fuck me wildly. I was never in control. She screamed with her first climax as a real woman and keep screaming and babbling as we both finished. I filled her with my warm cum. At about the same time my partner was having similar luck with mom whose screams coincided with the girl's. He told me later that she had lain in a position where she could watch her daughter. Every move I had made toward making a real woman of her daughter had resulted in her clamping her pussy ever more tightly on his cock. He described it as the best fuck he'd ever had. As we went to trade women, I noticed that dad had a pool of cum in his lap. It had been quite a sight for him as well. This Door Must Remain Unlocked As I slid my still hard cock inside mom, I was jolted into an recollection of what we had originally come here to do. "Police, don't move," In the odd set of shadows and light I saw a cop, arms held stiffly forward, training a gun on us. Panic immediately set in. My heart began to race. I couldn't breathe right. My throat constricted. There was nowhere to run. I had never felt as completely exposed as now lying naked on top of a woman in a mattress showroom. There were not even sheets or blankets to cover my bare ass. We were doomed. Not knowing what else to do, I did exactly as he commanded and lay still, my cock deeply embedded in mom. We had deviated from our plan and this was the consequence. We would be arrested. Thrown in jail. I started to think through how we would get out of jail or if we would spend the next ten years locked up in this sad town. "Oh for pity sake, Jim," the girl said. "How could you sneak in here like that? You about scared me to death. What are you, some sort of pervert wanting to watch us having a good time?" The cop tall, muscular, splendid in his uniform, a large caliber pistol in his outstretched hands, immediately started backing off. "Oh, hi Susan. I didn't . . . uh . . . recognize you in . . . uh . . . that way . . . . What's going on here," he asked his voice had lost all of its bravado. He lowered the gun. "What the fuck does it look like," the girl demanded. "Who told you to come busting in here like that. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" "Well, . . . I . . . ," was a far as he could get. The girl got up and went to the confused cop. Blood and cum ran down her legs. He stared. I mean he really stared. He looked at her naked boobs bouncing as she slid off the bed. His eyes literally bulged as he looked down at her dripping pussy. She paused after a step obviously giving him the opportunity to look as much as he wanted. She took a step closer and put her hands on her hips spreading her legs slightly. The pose was definitely out of Buffy the Vampire Killer. "If it's not obvious, this was my deflowering party. We've gone to great lengths to make it look like a hold up and rape. This was to be the erotic event of my life. Even my mother's getting her share," she indicated her mother and me with a flick of her long dark hair. "And my dad," she went to him and rubbing his cock let accumulated cum drip from her fingers back onto his lap. "My dad gets to watch." She was once again standing in front of the cop. You remember when we celebrated my being old enough to drink, don't you? As I remember you were as wasted as I've ever seen you. Her posture was now coy, but sexy. She averted her eyes from him staring at the floor. Lifting her head slowly her gaze clearly moved from his shoes to his groin, where it hesitated, then to his chest and finally to his face. The tip of her tongue showed for a second. My god, if I had been that cop, I'd have cum in my pants. As it was I was getting ready to cum in her mother. A sweaty mess, she took his gun hand, gun and all, and ran the muzzle across her damp breasts sliding each hard nipple down the barrel as the gun passed it. She took his other hand and pushed it into mess between her legs. She smiled at him. "Ever since we were in high school, you've made it pretty clear that you were interested. How about now?" He only stared at her nakedness, his mouth open as he fingered her. Not waiting for an answer she worked at unbuckling his service belt. Now her naiveté shone again as she failed in her efforts to release the buckling mechanism. He holstered his gun and released the belt, setting it on the floor. Hurriedly he stood again. She was better with the belt on his pants and soon he, too was exhibiting a fine and very hard cock. She pulled him toward her, but he stopped her. "I've got to keep my shirt neat for the rest of the shift," he said apologetically and quickly unbuttoned it. He hung it and his pants neatly then threw himself on the waiting girl. "I always wanted to fuck you," she cooed as he buried himself inside her. She twisted her legs around him as if to hold on. Then panting and sweating, her head thrown back, she said breathlessly, "How nice you could join the party." She brought his face to hers and kissed him hard as I watched his ass rise and fall as he pounded the girl who may well have been the girl of his dreams in high school. She threw her head back again suddenly letting go of his head and began to fuck him with determination. God, she was having a good time! He took her breasts and sucked hard on her nipples. It wasn't long before the sounds of another climax filled the hardware store. I couldn't help but wonder if this was his first time. For myself, I took advantage of his focus on her to finish fucking her mom who seemed to be quite grateful for the attention, not to mention the moaning, sweating climax we came to. We rolled over so she was on top of me for a short time of sharing. She sat on me smiling. She wriggled as if to keep my softening cock inside her. Her hands moved aimlessly across my chest while I, in turn, explored her beautiful breasts. Eventually she got off the bed and went to her still bound husband. She made no effort to release him but instead she took his cock in her mouth. She took it all at once, then let it slide out. She slowly repeated. By the third time, he leaned back against the chair, his mouth open. His knuckles became white as he gripped the arms of the chair. I watched as she knelt in front. Her slow blow job picked up in speed and intensity. It made me hard just to watch. A pool of cum, mine and my partner's was beginning to form beneath her where she knelt. Soon his clipped groans signaled his cum shooting into her mouth. She never paused until his cleanly licked cock slipped from her mouth. Even as mom was finishing off dad with what I suspected would be a blow job to be remembered, the cop was bringing the daughter to what was their first mutual climax. Quite a family scene. My partner and I were beginning to locate our clothing in the hopes of slipping out. We stopped dead when the cop, still buried in his new lover asked with real curiosity, "Who are these guys," gesturing toward us with his head. His hands were busy with her breasts. "Actors, you could say," she replied. "What they're doing might not be 100% legal so don't ask too many questions. Just fuck me again." She began thrusting her hips against him and holding him tightly by the ass. To us she said over his shoulder, "Your money's in the office. Don't forget to pick it up as you leave." We dressed then left the room. As we walked through the aisles of tools, appliances, and sewing notions toward the unlocked door I heard a chorus of "Thanks guys."