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Winged

By: Lady Wysteria



I only remembered feelings...
...and images blurred as time seem to pass by.

I knew he hated me.  Or even perhaps loathed me.
It's always the same: me watching him as he glides down the hallway with his trench coat sweeping around him like wings of feathers.
He didn't see me, of course.
But I was right there in his path.

I forgot if he asked me out to the dance festival.
But I dressed up anyway that night.  Blue, silk dress, thrown off my shoulders revealing pale skin.
Did I fix my hair or even put on make-up?
I cannot recall...
Only I found myself inside his car.
No, not in the passenger seat, though he was the one who drove, there was someone else there beside him.  I was slumped in the back, seated with his friends.
I did not see her face only that she laughed and giggled flirtatiously along with him, touching his lap from time to time, rubbing them and pressing on his crotch.

We got to the place. I felt numb. I didn't move.  My body seems to resist going out of the car.
It doesn't matter.
I am invisible.
I do not exist. He wouldn't notice.

The valet took his keys; he threw them at the man waiting beside his door.
I was still inside.
My heart shattered into a million broken pieces.  I held on to my purse, as if my life depended on it alone... or was it a pillow? I didn't remember...
Then he suddenly shoved his head from the open window and motioned at me.

"Well, aren't you coming?"

Almost a smile.
Still a broken heart.
For a moment I felt silly.
Why would he leave me? He asked me to be here didn't he?

He wore a black tuxedo.. wrapped around him like the night.  He was the star. He was *my* star.
He opened the door.
Everyone else had gone out that time, I reckoned they were probably inside.
I slowly removed myself, peeling away from the comfort of the leather seat and took his waiting hand.
Was this for real?
I wasn't even sure.. and I never had time to realize it when he lifted me up and held me possessively in his arms and embrace.
We were so close... so painfully close...
My heart was pounding loudly inside my chest.
He smelled of vanilla musk...
I knew that I would never forget.
His hand tightened on the bareness of my shoulders.

How can this be?
I didn't understand... he acted as if he did not see me everyday, but now this?

I sank deeper into his arms, melting away as we walked inside, lavishing in his scent.

I stood there in the spacious room. Daylight streaming from the curtained windows. The sun was almost blinding.
No one else was there.
Just me, and a few other people sulking behind their desks.
He was gone. And I couldn't find him.

I called out to him.  I called out his name... whispering to the slight breeze that had swept my neatly bounded hair.
My hair—falling unto my shoulders.
I felt free...
I called out to him again... twice... thrice...
He wasn't anywhere.
And I walked endlessly into no direction.
Behind a wall...
My feet taking me to where I never knew the place... where does it all lead to?

A gallery.
Yes, I remember now.
A wall of painting, a mural.
Vibrant colors, whiplash, long, hard strokes covered the once white wall. Only one wall.  And the other walls that surround me are gleaming pure white.
I could not see the images clearly, no matter how hard I try to strain my eyes at them.

A shiver running down my spine... and yet, warm.
He was there, suddenly. And he held me close to him like before.
We stood there facing the paintings.
His warm, gentle fingers caressed my shoulders as I leaned back against him.
I struggled to get away from him, as my fear gnawed.

"Don't."
But as soon as he whispered my name, grazing his tongue inside my earlobes, I knew I was lost. I melted.
We leaned against each other.
No one else was there.  We were alone.
Butterfly kisses down my neck as I threw my head back.  His hands were tenderly running across my waist, to the small of my back as he pressed his body more against mine.
I felt a tinge of red creeping on my cheeks, I began to quiver at his touch.
At which point had elicited a moan from my throat.

Too much.
Desire. Pleasure.

His hands floated between my breasts, down back to my waist again, until he finally settled them on my hips. His hungry lips found mine now and he kissed me hard, sucking on my tongue, biting on my lower lip. I could feel his erection between his trousers. I wanted to feel them but he wouldn't let me as he chained my hands to his chest.
Our tongues in fiery grasp of each other.
Lifting my dress up, slipping his warm, skillful fingers inside my panties...
His fingers made their way down, and found where all the desire I had been repressing were focused.
I was feeling hot.  And I was wet.  He knew that as well when he moaned and groaned in between our passionate kiss.
For a moment...
As he slipped a finger inside me, I jerked back...
Mixed emotions welled up inside me... of hurt, of pain, of anguish... pleasure, desire, lust...
He whispered my name over and over, moaning and begging...
Murmuring softly...
I could feel nothing else.
I didn't want to feel anything else...
Just him.
He continued the onslaught of me, two.. three fingers twisted jerking in and out of me, I felt my wetness dripping down my legs.  Moaning louder only kept him jerking it all the more and faster.

Until I never knew when all had stopped.
I shivered.
I felt like I reached heaven.. I thought I had gone insane.
I completely lost myself.

He called me back.

But after which he walked away again.  I saw him this time, slip out of my arms.  Quite suddenly. 
His black trench coat flaring behind him.  Like winged feathers.

I stood there.
Yes, the paintings.
They were real, weren't they?
For a while, I only stood there frozen in the moment.

I have to lie down.
I want to float into dreams.
Please let me dream...

Was this real?
I felt myself floating. Slowly I began tumbling down on the floor... the breeze had caught me.

It laid me gently on the floor.
Pure white.

I want to dream...
And I did.

Then, there was only darkness.
Only comforting darkness.

FINIS.

Winging It



My wife doesn't 'do' subtleties very well which accounts for her two most endearing characteristics: she always says what's on her mind and because of that she can be highly unpredictable. Like now. She is cuddling into me as she always does after sex, with one leg over my hip, her arm across my chest and her face tucked into my neck. "I was thinking of you having sex with another woman."

When Janice prefaces a statement with 'I was thinking' what she really means is, 'I have decided' — I knew this after 24 years of marriage. When I turned to look at her, spilling her leg from me, she continued, "It occurred to me a few weeks ago and I've thought a lot about it ever since — I was thinking of mentioning it on the phone (I'd been away on business) but decided maybe a face-to-face would be better." Then she looked up at me and when she asked, "What do you think of our sex life?" I knew she wasn't changing the subject.

We've had this conversation before, many times, but never after such a shocking lead-in, which I chose for the moment to ignore, "Why don't you ever ask me about our sex life BEFORE we have sex?"

"I think we're in a rut, Frank."

"Our rutting has become ho-hum?" I tried to make light of something I knew had been true for awhile.

"We've only got a few years left to enjoy it. I think we both have a lot of untapped potential in us that we should be trying to get out ... while we still can."

"Is this more about you, than me?" I sensed it was.

"It's about both of us, Frank, it's about our partnership. I've thought this through and I think you should, too and to help you I've done a little of the heavy lifting." By 'heavy lifting' she explained that she had done some research, found a local adult on-line bulletin board, put an ad on it and had received several replies.

"What did you put in the ad?" I was trying to pretend to be a little blase about all this but really I was shocked, the idea of having sex with another woman was hardly a foreign thought, but my wife actually recommending it was.

She laughed, "'Loving middle age couple is interested in sharing a few intimate hours a month with another loving middle age couple. The operative word here is loving. No piercings, no tattoos and no taboos. Send your expectations to ...'"

"What have you got against tats?" I didn't want her to see my shock, I don't know why, maybe because she seemed so, I don't know, maybe 'cool' about it, certainly blasé. Also, there was the slight matter of this not being about me having sex with another woman but us having sex with another couple, a whole different thing.

"I wanted to try to weed out the undesirables. At first, I excluded the fat and the ugly but then realized that if we liked them what would it matter. Besides, to exclude the fat and the ugly would leave a pretty small chance of finding anyone. But, as for the tattoos, I've never liked them and I don't like piercings, either. Anyone in our age group who has them ...," she shrugged.

While she was talking I was trying to process why she would have done all this without consulting me. I knew that because I was away so much it wasn't unusual for Janet to take the initiative in our domestic life and once she had done all the work she would usually just bring me in at the decision-making stage. But most of the time I was at least aware of her contemplations, this whole things was news to me, "God, are you sure about this, honey, I mean, have you really thought it through?"

She took my penis, which was wet with her juices and now fully erect again, "It could be fun, Frank, it could be exciting and it could take us to places we've never been to before, so, ya, sure I'm serious about this and ya, I've really thought it through, from a thousand different angles. It makes sense for us: we're still relatively young and alive and virile, it's way too early to let sex peter out on us, so, ya, I've thought about it a lot. What do you think?"

I know my penis had already given me away and I was thankful Janet didn't mentioned it, "You want me to have sex with another woman?"

"Yes, I've envisioned it, it really turns me on," she seemed impossibly matter-of-fact.

"And you'd have sex with another man."

"Only if you want me to."

"Do you want to?" I was looking down on her but could only see the top of her head — which seemed to me to be holding an entire trove of alarming, if exciting, thoughts.

"Only if it would turn you on."

"Does the thought of sex with another guy turn you on?"

"Ya, it really does because you'd be watching me and you'd be loving it."

Janet has always been highly-sexed and in bed always willing to give a lot more than she got, so for me we've always had a terrific sex life, but I've known for a year or more, ever since our last kid moved out, that we'd hit a bit of a brick wall. And I knew she thought so, too. "So you're entirely serious about this?"

She looked up at me and smiled with reassurance, "As I said, we've got a few replies. I 'interviewed' a woman yesterday, so, ya, I guess I'm entirely serious about it."

Janet is impatient, always has been. When things in her world start moving they tend to move very quickly, so it didn't surprise me that once she had dreamed up the idea, she would start work immediately on making it happen. "And?"

"As I said in the ad, what I wanted was a couple more or less like us. We love each other, we aren't threatened by anything, we've had a great time in bed in the past and we'd like to take it a little further while we can. That's what I told Sandra and that's what Sandra wants, too."

"Sandra?"

"She and her husband, Bill — he's a corporate pooh-bah, they're very up-scale, are about our age and they have more or less our mindset on this. Sandra said she was thinking of putting in an advertisement on the same bulletin board but didn't have the courage but when she saw ours she emailed right away. All the other responses we got seemed a little 'off' for one reason or another and a few were just down-right offensive, but Sandra and Bill sounded like they want exactly what we want, that's why I agreed to meet with her."

"And what is that, exactly?" I could see she didn't understand me, "What exactly do WE want?"

"To hang out with them for a few hours a month in a safe environment and see where it can go. Do I know where that's going to be? No. Do you? No. Do they? No, but I want to find out, they want to find out, so the question is, do you?"

"If I said no?"

"Than that will be the end of it, forever. I don't need this, Frank, we don't need this, I just think it might be exciting and, in a way, enriching, I mean by now we've pretty much plumbed the depths of each other but I know there's a lot more in you and I know there's a lot more in me, too, we just need a little external stimulation to get it out. The Jansen's want to provide that stimulation and they want us to provide the same for them. Sounds perfect to me."

"But they might not be, perfect that is, they could be ... almost anything."

"No, that's true so what we've decided, pending, of course, your right of veto and Bill's, is that we'd meet at their place on Friday night for dinner and we'd take it to the next stage, sort of talk about it, see if we're compatible and go from there. I don't expect a great orgy when we walk into their house and nor does Sandra. This is about sex, ya, but we both agree that we have to get into each other's minds before we get into each other's bodies."

"I'll think about it." My initial reaction was a perfect blend of fear and excitement, with a slight tip to the excitement.

Janet was quiet for a moment then she climbed onto me and placed me in her. "She's good looking, Frank, dark, nice body, good mind, sense of humour — fun. When we were having sex a few minutes ago I saw you on her, you were enjoying her, I liked it, I loved watching you two together."

I could tell she wasn't kidding, then I flashed on an image of her under some guy I didn't know and, well, I'm ashamed to admit I asked, "What does her husband ... Bill, look like?"

"I don't know, Sandra says he's handsome and in pretty good shape."

"And you'd like me to like watching you have sex with him?"

She stopped her slow grinding on me and looked down, the stiff nipples on her large breasts just touching my chest, "Look, Frank, what I want is this. I want you to have fun, I want you to find some way to pull out all your sexual energy. If being with them helps, great, if having sex with Sandra helps, great, if the four of us having sex together helps, great, if ... whatever helps, great, let's try it. If it doesn't work, at least we tried and we can laugh about it later." She began grinding again, really slowly, "Look, Frank, I think I want this, yes, but, as I said, I don't need it, but I actually think you do, you don't have many escapes from work, this could be a good one, but I'm not forcing it on you — just think about it." There is no greater pleasure in my life than having my wife looking down on me while she slowly fucks me ... sure we've done it a million times and it's true, we don't always cum any more, but the intimacy has always been exquisite. "And we don't have to do it this Friday either, we were just thinking that we should strike while the iron is hot, I mean, this is going to take a little guts."

And it took a little guts to ask what was foremost on my mind, "Can you imagine having sex with her ... Sandra?"

She didn't give anything away when she said, "We didn't talk about that."

"You didn't answer my question." 

She smiled, pulled off me and put my fingers in her pussy which was absolutely soaking and it seldom is any more. With that I had pretty much done all my thinking on the subject.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Clearly the Jansens were doing well. The massive oak door we were standing in front of wouldn't have been out of place on a castle, and then it opened.

If first impressions matter, Sandra Jansen was going to be a whole lot of fun. She isn't beautiful by any stretch but she is, to use a wonderful old term, 'fetching' and she has a smile that is at once sexy and coy, as if she's 'in' on an in joke or, more specifically, the little smile on her lips told me that knew what we wanted and she couldn't wait to give it to us, then that smile was pressed against my wife's cheek and a moment after that, against mine and we followed her through the magnificent foyer into a living room that was lit up so brightly it could have been a movie set.

Bill Jansen was standing by the fireplace and to his left a curiously attractive young woman was sitting in a chair. Her name, we soon learned, is Gloria, she is their daughter, wife of their son whom 'we never talk about.'

And we didn't talk about much else, either. While Bill and I deferred to our wives, who did little more then flit about some conventional small talk, Bill poured the drinks and I worked on coining a maxim: if four is swinging, what is five? The best I could come up with was 'winging it' but I didn't pretend it was any good, I wasn't exactly concentrating.

Mercifully, given the stilted small talk, the dinner call occurred sooner than later and we headed into the adjoining dining room which, suitably for the house, was so huge that we occupied just the northeast quadrant of the enormous table, with Janet and I securely together and opposite Sandra and Gloria, with Bill anchoring the end.

Sandra knew she had some explaining to do and the moment after she served the food she obliged. Gloria has been living with them for over two years and, I gather, Gloria and Sandra have become pretty close friends because Sandra seemed to have recruited Gloria's help in every step of the process of forming this encounter, from the Jensen's initial thoughts of swinging, to finding the bulletin board, to writing the email to Janet, I mean, she seemed more a personal planner than a daughter. "I hope you don't mind," Sandra concluded, as if this was enough.

But it wasn't and Janet said so, "When we talked, I thought we agreed that Frank and I would come here tonight and see where this could go."

"Yes," Sandra's smile was even a little more pronounced, even a little more knowing.

My wife could always get to the point, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Gloria, but your presence here, under the circumstances, makes this get together a little ... ah, limiting, doesn't it?" 

Sandra was about to say something but Gloria was quicker, "I asked to be here, Janet, I want to be with you to see where this will go."

Huh? "I don't understand," I said, and I didn't.

For almost the first time since we got there, Bill spoke; he started with a laugh, "We're the gladiators, she's the spectators."

"Are there lions?" I didn't have any idea what the guy was talking about: gladiators, spectators?

"Look," said Gloria, with no trace of humour, "I'll leave if you want me to, of course, but I think what you guys are planning is really exciting and I'd like to be in on it."

"But how 'in on it?'" said Janet, reasonably. "I mean, as a spectator ... or as a gladiator."

"As a spectator ... and maybe later as a participant ... if you want." 

Maybe it was because Gloria was being so vague but I had to repeat myself, "I still don't get it." I sounded like a school boy, I know, but I didn't.

Sandra tried to explain, "Gloria is training to be a nurse, she has normal sexual desires, she hasn't the interest in going out much, she sees this as an opportunity ..."

Gloria interjected, "And ever since Sandra mentioned the possibilities to me, I've been thinking non-stop about it and I'd just love it if you'd let me stay, just to watch if nothing more."

"Look," I was kind of holding in my anger, it seemed to me they weren't being entirely forthcoming, "this isn't a very good start. When we got here I didn't expect you two to give us your inner-most thoughts but we don't want half-truths from you, either. What's this actually about?"

Sandra took a quickly look at her husband and was about to respond when Bill said, "Gloria has been watching Sandra and I have sex for the past year or so. She usually masturbates while we're doing it. She wants more. We don't, but you might, that's up to you but we're entirely comfortable with her now so at the very least we'd like it if you would allow Gloria to stay, I know it's kinky, but so is the rest of it."

"You want this?" I said this to Gloria, not understanding how she actually could.

"Yes, I really do."

I turned to Janet, I think I wanted her to help me make more sense of this but she had made her mind up, too, "Sure, she can stay."

I was more confused by all this than surprised so when I turned back to Bill I asked, "So what other surprises do you have for us."

He laughed at this, if nothing else the guy was in a good mood, "No, you're right, we should have been more open and honest from the get-go but that's it, that's the last one. Gloria sometimes comes into our room and masturbates while we're having sex but that's as far as it goes." He seemed to get a little more reflective now, "maybe it was as a result of that that we've thought we'd like to try this swinging thing but we've never done anything like this before. Actually, we've never been anything other than totally vanilla ... until Gloria, of course."

"Why do you like watching them having sex," as I've said, Janet usually gets to the point.

"It's not so much that I like watching them, it's that I like them watching me masturbate." If you can be matter-of-fact saying something like this, Gloria was.

"And it helps us," said Sandra, then she added somewhat needlessly, "Gloria is a beautiful woman."

Gloria looks Dutch to me, she is very tall, I guessed, almost 6 feet, very thin, with very long arms and legs, and a serious, attractive face highlighted by a pair of grey eyes that could bore right into you and they never flinched, like now when Gloria asked me if we'd ever done anything like this before and, if not, why now.

I guess I hesitated a little too long because Janet answered, giving a brief overview of our sex life but when she ended she asked Gloria directly, "Do you want to have sex with my husband, is that what this is about, ultimately?"

"Ultimately? I'd like to watch you all have sex, and I'd like you to watch me, too, but to answer your question more directly, ultimately? Yes, I'd probably like to have sex with Frank but with you, too, together."

Janet didn't blanch at this, "Here in front of yours?"

She shrugged, "Or not, it's up to you."

Janet pressed her now, trying to find out precisely what she was thinking, "So if we asked you to come home with us tonight, you would?"

The grey eyes were boring into Janet, "I'd ask Sandy and Bill first, of course, this is yours and their thing, I'm just the spectator here but if it was OK with them, then yes, I would."

Janet tried to sum it up: "So this is about you having sex with a middle age couple."

When she shook her head, Gloria's grey eyes didn't leave Janet's, "No, it's about two middle age couples having fun while experimenting with sex with each other, that's why you are here, but if you let me, I'd just be along for the ride."

"To masturbate." I'm glad Janet was pushing her because I sure as hell wasn't getting it.

"Yes, unless you asked me to join in." Then she hastened to add, "I know I can't with Sandy and Bill but maybe with you two." 

I had been following the conversation as carefully as I've followed any conversation I'd ever heard but it still didn't seem clear to me and that was frustrating, so I had to get it out. "Look, would somebody just articulate the exact expectations here." I looked directly at Sandra, "Do you want to watch Gloria have sex with me and my wife. Is that what this is about?

Sandra's little smile was gone, "No, it's about Bill and I having sex with Janet and you."

"What about Gloria?" I pressed.

"She watches. If she wants to join in with you two and you want her to, then fine, we're OK with that but she's our son's wife and we're going to leave it at that."

I still thought there was a lot left unsaid so I upped the ante, "I've always had a fantasy of seeing my wife with another woman. What would happen if I said here and now that I want to take Gloria home with us for that purpose."

Sandra's smile hadn't returned, "I'd be jealous."

"Jealous?" I didn't expect this.

"Of course," said Sandra, looking straight into my eyes, "I'd prefer that if your wife wants to have sex with a woman ... that I be that woman." 

I'd thought about that, of course, but I'd never expected it to happen and I never expected Janet to get out of her chair and walk around the table to stand behind Sandra's chair, and I've never expected my wife to lean forward, put her arms around Sandra's neck and say, "I'd like that too, Sandra."

Sandra didn't hesitate, she stood up, took Janet by the hand and walked her into the living room and when they sat on the couch Sandra turned into Janet and put her lips on Janet's mouth, "It begins," she almost whispered, "and I couldn't be more excited."

I know Sandra said this to Janet because when they went into the living room the rest of us followed and we sat in chairs that seemed almost strategically arranged for the occasion. It was riveting, perhaps because it was so slow, neither of them seemed in any hurry or at all concerned that there were three pairs of eyes on them.

We had been watching for a few minutes — I think we were all more fascinated, even a little shocked more than anything, then the silence was broken, "You two look fantastic together." It was Bill and when I looked over at him I was startled to see him undoing his pants, I mean, I had felt like doing that the moment their lips touched but it never occurred to me that I could and then I looked over at Gloria. She was looking at them with that grey-eyed stare of hers and her hand was creeping under her skirt. 




Winging It! 01



Disclaimer -- this is just an opinion presented in a humorous manner. Undoubtedly, some of you will become offended at some point as you read through this. You will claim I am being sexist, demeaning, arrogant, or even overly simplifying the problem. The men who read it will probably just say, "Yeah, that's right." Unless, that is, they are either Psych professors or extremely anal (in a bad way) ultra-conservative Puritanical sticks-in-the-mud who don't want anyone having any fun at all in life. So just remember -- I'm having a fun look at a serious topic. And remember -- I'm not a professional. 

Mid-life Crises

Why do men get such a bad rap over this "mid-life crisis" crap? Honestly, we're doing the same thing we've always done -- chasing women who have shown us attention. Unfortunately, while men go through life with a relatively unchanging approach, the same cannot be said of the fairer sex.

You see, a young man pursues relationships interested in getting his hands on the girl's body. Everything he does happens with this end-goal in mind -- what clothes he wears, what hairstyle he sports, what restaurants he eats in, what vehicle he drives, what job he works, how many kids he has, everything. The entire goal of his actions is to attract a girl who is interested in him and get her naked (and preferably wet and screaming).

Now, a young woman pursues relationships interested in getting a man's hands on her body as she evaluates him as a potential father for her unborn babies. And she's establishing a basis for her family's future. And she's creating life-long friendships. Everything she does happens with these end-goals in mind -- what clothes she wears, what hairstyle she sports, what restaurants she eats in, what vehicle she drives, what job she works, everything. The entire goal of her actions is to attract a guy and get him naked (so she can evaluate him).

So a young man finds a girl who turns him on and shows him attention and a young woman finds a man who turns her on and has enough potential for stability that she can work with and the two make some form of commitment to each other. She pays attention to him and only him, treating him as if he were the king of the world and hangs on his every word and move. She provides a setting for him where he gets all the sex his hard-wired brain can handle. In return, he is devoted to her and provides a measure of security and stability for her. He continues to get her naked as often as possible and she continues to fantasize about becoming a mother so that they can raise Junior in a loving, stable home. And she continues to make new friends in the new neighborhood, at the gym, at work -- and these friends all talk excitedly about what their men do for them. The man and woman are constant companions, sharing every miniscule fragment of their lives.

Then Junior shows up and the feeble brain of the man realizes the world has taken a serious turn. She is still interested in him and hangs on most everything he says, when she's not having to tend the baby. She tells him how awesome he is to have helped her make a baby and how much fun they will all have together. He still gets her naked as often as possible, which doesn't seem to be quite as often as before and he wonders why they aren't roaming the house naked and having sex two or three times a day. But he recognizes that he and she are both busier with work and the baby than they were, so he takes what he can get as often as he can get it. Companionship now comes in hushed tones as Junior sleeps or at the top of their lungs when Junior is playing.

So Junior and Juniorette are now in middle school or high school and the family stays strung out and running between activities, rehearsals, and the like. He would like to get her naked more often, but when he tries to play grab-ass in the kitchen with the woman who blew his mind so many years ago, she slaps his hands away and tells him "Behave! Not in front of the kids!" He wonders if the days he fondly remembers of roaming the house naked and having sex every time he got hard ever really happened or are they figments of an under-sexed imagination. By this point, he has developed a "good job," the kind that keeps him busy as often as he lets it, so that he can afford "the best for the kids" because that's what his wife says they need. Unfortunately, this eats into their companionship, as the kids now soak up more and more attention. Conversations typically let him get three to five words out before some new crisis on the kid-front erupts and distracts momma. Or maybe one of her friends calls and they talk while she's running around the house. So, at bedtime, with only a limited amount of time left, he has to decide whether he wants to talk, screw, or sleep. Now, remember, she has been busily making friends for life since the beginning of their relationship. She has her doses of companionship periodically throughout the day. Him? He's busy either working, fantasizing about screwing her, or griping about not getting to screw her often enough.

So he's still acting the same as he always has -- he's trying to get into his girl's pants by having the kids she says they need, by working the job she says the family needs him to have, or by running to the places and events she says they need to support. He still wants to impress his girl so that she'll do him at the drop of a hat.

So now he is starting to feel stressed and doesn't know exactly why. Heck, he might even start surfing porn just to see if he really remembers what a naked woman really looks like! He may have even realized, if only subconsciously, that his girl who used to hang on his every word and think he walked on water would now choose one of those selfish brats over himself in a crisis. How could this happen? So now he starts wondering what else she might choose over him. Or even who else. So maybe he starts acting a little paranoid and thus damages the already fragile lines of communication.

Eventually, it occurs to him that all his time is spent providing for people who seem to take it all for granted and want even more. It occurs to him that maybe some of his labors should go to providing for his own pleasure. Maybe something that recaptures that carefree feeling he had when he first met her. But now he has better means and can afford a much better "pursuit of happiness." And remember how he thinks -- he wants in the girl's pants. So his "pursuit of happiness" will draw feminine attention. Most definitely.

And just like Momma was all these years ago, there is a whole new flock of gorgeous young women out looking for the exact same thing. Do you remember what that was? No, don't scroll back -- I'll make it easy for you.

Now, a young woman pursues relationships interested in getting a man's hands on her body as she evaluates him as a potential father for her unborn babies. And she's establishing a basis for her family's future. And she's creating life-long friendships. Everything she does happens with these end-goals in mind -- what clothes she wears, what hairstyle she sports, what restaurants she eats in, what vehicle she drives, what job she works, everything. The entire goal of her actions is to attract a guy and get him naked (so she can evaluate him).

So a young man finds a girl who turns him on and shows him attention and a young woman finds a man who turns her on and has enough potential for stability that she can work with and the two make some form of commitment to each other. She pays attention to him and only him, treating him as if he were the king of the world and hangs on his every word and move. She provides a setting for him where he gets all the sex his hard-wired brain can handle. In return, he is devoted to her and provides a measure of security and stability for her. 

So our man who has built up a family and a solid career is now doing things that are guaranteed to catch the eye of the girls. And they all want to evaluate him to see if he would make a good father for their unborn babies. So they hang on his every word, treat him like he's a king, and just in general treat him the way he wishes his wife still treated him. But, see, he's a man and likely doesn't understand that these young girls -- who are treating him exactly like he wants to be treated and exactly like she used to treat him -- will eventually grow up and treat him like she is treating him now. All he knows is she's hot and he wants her naked and that he's still attractive to the girls.

He hasn't changed. Not one little bit.

So just how can we call that a "crisis" at mid-life when it wasn't one in his early life?

-F/W

comments welcomed



Winging It! 02



02 - On Touching

I'm very touch oriented. My ladywife read a book once upon a time called "The Five Love Languages" or somesuch Venus-oriented self-help title. When she finished reading it, she came and declared unto me this Great Truth - "You are a Touch person. You tell people you care about them by touching them." I looked down at my hand, which was busily fondling one of her delicious boobs and said something truly clever and witty along the lines of "Imagine that!"

Apparently the inverse is true as well – until you touch me, I'm not convinced you care about me. I crave being touched, just to know the person I'm dealing with values me as a person. It's not necessarily a sexual thing – I have absolutely zero interest in hopping into the sack with any of the coworkers I routinely shake hands with or whose shoulders I slap. 

No, it is about defining my world. I am a sensual person and love the feel of things I touch. I think it is part psychic as well, on a small level. Right now, my arms are resting on the edge of a folding table, the corner is smooth and rounded and changes to a slight textured finish on top. And it is cool, compared to the heat I just came in from. Under my fingertips, the keys are smooth with crisp edges, almost but not quite sharp. It is a pleasant contrast, from arms to fingertips. 

Sometimes I catch myself idly touching things (shaddup, you perverts!) while I'm working on something else just for the sake of knowing how they feel, rubbing a fingertip over it, picking at it with a fingernail, smoothing it with my palm. Safe, dangerous, pleasant, foul – to me all of them are worth experiencing, from a sharp shard of glass to sun-heated metal to a soft fleece blanket to the soft, hot, wet core of an aroused woman. These sensations are how I define my world, how I make it real.

As I walk past something, I am very likely to lay my hand on it, partially so I can keep track of where it is if I'm not looking at it and partially just to know its "feel." If I'm passing a person, putting my hand on them so I know where they are and so they know where I am. It helps me know if I need to change my course if they start to move. 

Of course, touching a living person is an entire world of sensations in itself. You feel their physical warmth, their emotional heat or frigidity. Below that is their core solidity, their physical reality and their emotional stability. You can – well,I know I can – feel the roiling of emotions under the person's demeanor. The sharp tug of "I really like that touch and wish it could continue" to "I hate it when he makes me feel like this at the wrong time."

I enjoy the shock of an unexpected touch – bracing myself against a pipe coming up out of the ground, expecting the feel of sun-heated metal only to encounter a pipe that is almost freezing because it is holding 900psi of natural gas. Maybe a pretty lady accidentally (or not) brushes against me as she passes. 

I love haircuts, too. I'm wondering if beauty schools give classes like "how to artfully tease clients with your boobs through contact and near contact." It definitely causes me to give a bigger tip. (Of money, you perverts! Sheesh.) And getting change from a cashier – some seem to not want to touch the customer. I like to stroke my fingertips along the inside of her wrist as she hands me my change. I really enjoy it when she does it first, hiding her caress behind giving me my money.

So I need that physical contact with my world, that sensual rooting in reality provided by touching my surroundings. And with people, that sensual can easily fuel the sexual, if it is an appropriate person. Moving past someone in close quarters and putting my hand on her hip, to know where she is and to let her know where I am, leads to the delicious temptation of sliding that hand up under her shirt and along her ribs to feel the pull of soft skin over bone. Or instead of her hip, putting my hand lightly at the nape of her neck as I lean around her to reach something leaves the desire to trail my fingers down her spine to the curve of her buttocks. 

Sometimes I do give in to those urges – my ladywife will tell you I NEVER resist them! - but only if the person involved is appropriate for such activities. You know, if it is my ladywife involved, since she doesn't share well at all. Otherwise, I just use the momentary contact to enjoy it for what it is – a brief moment of touching a part of my world that produces its own set of sensations.

Because if I don't touch it – it doesn't exist. 



Winging It



What would you be thinking if you saw your wife in the arms of another woman? It's shocking, they're no denying it, shocking to see the two bodies so stiff and rigid leaning into each other, uncertain, tentative and more shocking still when you see those two soft warm bodies start to relax and meld closer together, almost fusing together and it's more shocking still when you see your wife's familiar ringed fingers moving up and down the silk blouse of her lover. I don't know what you'd be thinking but I'll tell you what I was thinking, it's odd but it's true, I was feel a touch of pride that my wife was making all this happen and I was feeling unbelievably turned on, too, way too turned on to just sit and watch and let my sexual feeling envelope me, as they were so obviously enveloping Bill. I turned to him, "Do you have any beer?"

He didn't look at me when, slowly stroking, he said, "In the fridge."

"Want one?" I said, getting to my feet.

"Sure."

"I'll help." Gloria led me to the kitchen and reached into the fridge. "Are you having a hard time with me?" she twisted off the cap and handed me the beer, her eyes locked onto mine.

I laughed, "It's like when you're out at a restaurant and you've ordered chicken and the waiter puts a steak in front of you: I mean the steak may well be great but your taste buds are all set-up for the chicken."

Her grey eyes showed no humour, "I'm the steak?"

"No offense," I took a pull at the beer.

"But you have a choice, don't you? You can send the steak back and get your chicken or you can shrug and risk biting into the steak."

I nodded, the woman really was quite striking, "Yes, I know, that's where I am right now: I'm at the table wondering precisely what I'll do, ask for the chicken or, now that it has been offered, try the steak, which, quite frankly, looks pretty good."

"So it's a tough decision?"

Ya, right, "Do you really go into their bedroom and watch them have sex?"

"Do you have a hard time with that?"

'Do you have a hard time with that?' — it's the second time she's said that; I knew she was trying to put me on the defensive, as if I was supposed to explain myself but I didn't bite, instead, I tore a page out of my wife's playbook and went on the the attack, "Why do you do it? For the reasons you gave: you like to watch them have sex but you like them to watch you masturbate even more?"

"That, and I keep on hoping they'll ask me to get in bed with them but they haven't yet and I guess I know they won't."

"Yet you still watch them."

"Hope springs eternal," her lips smiled but her eyes didn't, "and besides, it isn't as if I have other opportunities."

This has been the nut of the problem all night, "Of course you have other opportunities, and merely snapping your fingers will create them."

She shrugged but didn't say anything.

"Are you telling me that you can't stop off at a club on the way home from work or class, saunter up to the bar and snap your fingers at the first swarthy stud you see, a stud who'd love nothing more than to fuck your brains out."

The steely grey eyes became a lot more fiery, "I married a man who fucked my brains out, I don't need another — that's the truth." She snapped her fingers, "If I do that, I want it to be at a loving couple like you and Janet," she snapped her fingers, "If I do that, I want to feel what it's like to be with two people who obviously love each other," she snapped her fingers, "If I do that, I want to feel what they do to each other, I want to hear what they laugh about — I want to get a sense of what love is all about because the way it stands now I'm just a fucked-up frightened girl who knows more about rejection at 24 than I should in a lifetime."

This really surprised me, "Rejection? By the Jensen's?"

"And their son, and my parents, and my only other boy friend, and my church when I had the abortion, and ... well, the list goes on. I even lost out on being my high school validictorium because they thought I'd be too fucking political. If I was a battery, Frank, I'd be on absolute empty."

"And you think that Janet and I, by bringing you into our bed, can recharge you?"

"By bringing me into your life ... and bed, yes. Does that surprise you?"

I was going to say yes but then my wife was in the other room making out with the hostess whose husband ... was waiting for a beer. "I'm surprised, Gloria, ya, you could say that but ..."

"Don't reject me, Frank, please, let me in your world."

"This isn't about acceptance or rejection, Gloria, it's only about sex."

She laughed at this, "Spoken like a man who goes home every night to a loving woman. All sex has string attached to it, Frank. Do you know why I want to be in that room and on that couch where Sandy is right now?"

"With Janet?"

"If I was there making out with Janet I'd be creating a bond with her. When those two get off that couch, Janet and Sandy are going to be best friends for life, count on it. It could have been me and it still can. Let me in, Frank."

"But why us? I still don't get that, I mean I know we're irresistibly attractive but ..."

"I've already answered that, you two obviously really love each other ..."

"Sure, but millions of couples obviously love each other."

"Yes, but how many of those million do I know and how many of the ones that I do are willing to bring complete strangers into their bed like you and Janet are doing tonight?" She reached back into the fridge and came out with two more beers, uncapped them both and then handed them to me while taking my empty. "Will you just think about it?"

"Will I think about allowing a very attractive 24 year old woman into my marriage bed? Oh, OK, I guess so," I laughed and turned for the living room.

But when I got there I didn't sit back down in my chair, instead, I put Bill's beer on the arm of his chair, noticing that he was still slowly stroking and I stared at the sight on the couch. It looked at first as if they hadn't moved much since I left except that Janet's foot was now on the couch and Sandra's fingers was caressing Janet's red panties and now I could see my wife's face because Sandra's face was pressing against Janet's blouse at her breast, and now Janet was smiling at me. I was about to sit down, my knees were threatening to buckle, when Janet said, "Give me a hand here, will you?"

Uncertainly, I walked over and stood over them unsure of what she would have me do.

"We need our clothes off, Frank."

I knew that with her request my wife was saying that I had been a spectator for far too long, she wanted to draw me into the tryst and I loved her for that but I didn't particularly want to go, too many cooks and all that, but I did sit down beside her to do specifically and only what she had requested and I kissed her before I began. Then I steeled my nerves and reached for my wife's blouse button.

"No, take Sandra's blouse off, Frank."

I was stunned. I had been riding along more or less in control of my emotions and action, now this: the demand shocked me, stunned me for a moment then, for some odd reason it reminded me of something that had happened to me just a few months before: I had been playing Texas Hold'em with some friends, just floating along building up my winnings, expecting ultimately to win it all when some prick said 'I'm all in'. With my two Queens I felt fairly confident but I was scared, too, the prick could wipe me out but I called him anyway but the moment the river card came up I knew I was fucked, so this feeling of an absolute loss of control from a position of relative strength was familiar to me, but it didn't make it any easier.

But Sandra did. She rolled off my wife and sat back beside her with her arms at her side and that little knowing smile on her face, a smile that wasn't changing much during the two minutes of my paralysis. "You don't have to do this, Frank," she said, "I know how to do it myself, I've done it before." Her smile was growing and it was softening me.

"Frank has done it before, too, Sandy. I want him to do it."

I was going to look back at Bill, to seek his approval but how much more permission did I need, and how big a chicken shit was I? I reached out and when I took hold of her top button I was glad to see that my fingers weren't shaking, even after Sandra's fingers landed on mine, stroking them encouragingly.

From the moment I first saw her I knew I liked Sandra, and it wasn't just that coy little smile of hers, either. She has a pretty, intelligent face, not beautiful, more pleasant and kind, with shoulder length curly brown hair, a high forehead, smart eyes, a long thin nose between surprisingly high cheekbones and a nice chin beneath that trade-mark smile. And her body seemed to suit her perfectly: sight unseen, it appears healthy without being noticeably over-weight as if she ate well but pushed away from the table at just about the right time. The fact that she was attractive and sexy made it easier. And so did her confidence. The face that was studying me was not the face of a victim; she was precisely where she wanted to be — all five of us knew that, knew that she wanted me to take her clothes off.

Still, I was scared, that's the word for it and really hesitant, so much so that the voice to my right said, "Kind of reminds you of 1st year college, doesn't it Sandra?" Then Janet was kneeling beside me, helping me undo Sandra's buttons and when Sandra leaned forward it was Janet who took her blouse off, then my wife sat back with a laugh and said, "You're on your own now, buster."

Feeling (and being treated) like a school boy was pissing me off so I stuffed my timidity and reached behind her to undo her bra. I think she did it on purpose, she waited until my arms encircled her, my cheek pressed against hers and my fingers wedged between her back and the couch when she said, "The clasp is on the front."

I heard Bill laugh, it was a fun laugh with no edge to it, so when I pulled my hands away I looked back at him and said, "You could have been a little more helpful, you probably bought the damn thing." He laughed at this, too, as if he was enjoying the whole act, but not as much as the earlier one because his fingers were now around his beer can and his prick had fallen asleep in his lap.

I've always found women's underwear to be a real turn-on, it is my one big fetish and one that Janet constantly feeds. When my fingers found the clasp, Janet protested before I undid it, "Squeezer her first, Frank, kiss them like you kiss mine, treat her like she's me."

It's at that moment that my 'fuck it' switch turned to 'on', Sandra really filled that bra and there appeared to be real excitement filling her eyes. I slid to the floor, quickly found the clasp on Sandra's skirt and as she pushed herself up from the couch with her hands, I pulled her skirt off and I watch her settle back in front of me, with her confident, knowing smile and her yellow partially see-through bra and panties, so vivid against her pale white skin. 

And then I felt more than saw the pale white skin kneel beside me and Bill started in on my wife's blouse with fingers that were not only confident but fast because I could see Janet's rose coloured bra even before I fully realized that Bill was wearing nothing and before I realized that the arms encircling my waist and the fingers undoing my belt were owned by the fifth member in the room, the 24 year old.

OK, so I'm a little slow, but Bill sure wasn't and nor was Janet. While Bill was taking off her blouse, Janet was pushing off her skirt, they were in a kind of frantic frenzy and it was fascinating and not just to me, either, Sandra's eyes were no longer on me, and the fingers that had been undoing my belt were now digging into my hips: it looked like Janet and Bill had waited their entire lives to fuck each other and I've got to admit, I couldn't wait for it to happen and that shocked the hell out of me.

"You're beautiful, Janet, you're just spectacular," Bill was looking down on my entirely naked wife who was scrunched into the couch with her ass barely on the seat and she was looking at him with a fuck-me face that I hadn't seen much since our early marriage. As I've said, Janet isn't big on nuance and nor, I suspect, is Bill, because she was pushing off the couch as he was pulling her by the hips and when she reached the floor I could feel Sandra pulling at me, and I followed her encouragement and got up and sat down beside her and when I did, Gloria completed the task of taking off my pants and underwear while Sandra helped me out of my shirt.

And then the one-act play began. We had taken our seats, Sandra and I fused at the near naked hips on the couch, Gloria back on her chair with her hand under her skirt which she had pulled up so I could just see her fingers against her white panties. The star of the show was clearly my wife. Oh, the supporting cast was strong, Bill made an impressive Lathario, he was regally poised between my wife's legs, which were obscenely bent and open and he seemed like suspended animation as he awaited instructions from the star but it was Janet who was in absolute control.

The intensity on her face almost made me laugh but that thought vanished when she said, "Oh, fuck Bill. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," and she reached forward, took his penis and as he bent down she seemed to almost pull against him as she slide forward to impale herself on him. And he wanted her to be there, there was no doubt about that, he rammed at her, a way too savagely I thought, but she was loving it because she beat back at him so hard that when they bashed together the noise sounded like sickening slaps but I could only hear it for a moment because Janet started moaning, 'oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck' at first quite quietly but as he did, as he fucked and fucked and fucked, increasingly more vigorously, she started screaming it, "Oh, fuck, oh, fuck," repeatedly while Bill let out an animal wail that was about as loud and as they brutalized each other, their loud screams seemed only to get louder but even at that their crescendo seemed a long way off: these two appeared to have a stamina that matched their appetite. 

Janet had said that she had a lot of untapped sexuality in her and there was no doubt that she was using Bill to get it out. As she thrust at him, as she screamed at him, she opened her legs impossibly wide so they appeared almost like wings as she beat herself against him and then she pulled at his arms, took his hands and forced them into her breasts, "squeeze me, fuck Bill, squeeze me."

That's all it took for Bill. His face, which had been reflecting concentration more than lust changed with her command because as he squeezed at my wife's breasts, really squeezed them — you could see her fat almost hide his fingers, his eyes seemed to cloud over and roll back in his head a little but that was the last I saw because Sandra was slowly sliding off the couch, pushing at her panties and I followed her down, got on her and then in her and when I did, she was pulling me into her chest and scissoring her legs around mine and holding me so tight I couldn't move and she didn't let me go, not for the longest time and when she did she was caressing my back, encouraging me to be still and I was, and after many minutes of near immobility, I felt like I had descended into a soft, warm place, like I was deep into a yogic exercise where my body was almost asleep yet I was still alert, it was as if my mind and body had separated; our bodies had fused in coital union while our minds were free to float.

This was sex like I'd never had it before, it was almost un-sex sex, merely a joining together like with an umbilical cord, no sweating, no grunting, no squeezing, no thrusting, no screaming like what was going on beside us, I just clenched my cheeks together as if to make my penis larger as she clenched her cheeks and almost imperceptibly road on me: we were co-mingling, encouraging each other to open our senses, to feel deep into each others body — really, it felt like we were almost trying to touch each other's soul and I reached a heightened level of consciousness: I could feel her subtle contractions around me, I could feel her warm, wet heat against me, I could smell her sweaty sweet perfume, I could hear her tiny little purring, and I could feel a sexual excitement build throughout me, not just in my head and my groin but in every facet of my mind and body. It staggered me, I didn't want to move, I didn't want her to move, I wanted our heightened senses and our exquisite proximity to continue to build, I didn't want to give it up.

But Janet was pulling at me. When I opened my eyes I could see that she was on her side now, her knees almost touching her chest and Bill was spooning her, thrusting at her. She wasn't screaming now, she was grunting as she sucked on my fingers.

I wanted to pull away from her, I wanted to be fully back on Sandra's body again, still, deep into our sexual cocoon, not sprawling half on, half off her so Janet could suck on me. But I couldn't pull away, I could only be encouraging and Sandra knew that too because she got up, went behind her husband and squeezed herself into him as he violently thrust at my wife as I let my soaking fingers tease at her drooling mouth, making her chase them as she was chasing the orgasm she was demanding.

I kissed her when it was over, I leaned in and kissed her near the lips which were partially pressed into the carpet. But she was spent, she didn't even twitch in recognition, so I pulled away and I think I was going to get up to get a beer but I didn't get the chance. Sandra lay down beside me, precisely where she had been before — unclasping and discarding her bra as she did, then she reached for me and I got back on her, and in her, but she didn't need to encourage me to be still this time, now, I wrapped her in my arms, pulling her face into my neck while she squirmed as I adjusted the alignment of my penis to be precisely where it had been and we both hung on, revisiting the places we had been.

xxxxxxxxxxx

When we went onto the deck, Janet had her arms around Bill's neck and was bouncing up and down on his lap as he sat in the corner of the hot tub with a beer in his hand. "Do you play golf?" he was looking around my wife as the water frothed around them.

"Not well." I was stunned that I was finding it OK that my wife was fucking this guy.

"How about tomorrow, say around noon ... give us time to sleep in," his smile was innocent of any hidden meaning.

"You any good?" I've always loved my wife's back, it is strong and nicely freckled.

"Nah, it's just nice to get out once in awhile."

"Lying bastard." His hand was now moving under the water to her cheek.

He laughed, "I'm not but I'll give you a stroke a hole if you want, that way you can brag about beating me by 20 strokes. Devil's Elbow at noon."

"That place is booked into the next century, isn't it." Janet had stopped bouncing now and was squeezing herself against him as another orgasm shot through her.

"Noon." His voice was muffled against my wife's chest.

"Another beer?" I've always loved watching my wife orgasm, even from a distance.

Bill didn't try to speak now, I think he was finding his own pleasure, he just stuck up a thumb. 

When I turned around from the fridge with a six pack in my hand, Gloria was standing six feet away, a red bathing suit dangling from her finger. "Before you leave I wanted to show you what you will get." She held the bathing suit out to the side and dipped in a mild curtsy.

"No man is that lucky," The girl is unbelievably angular, tall, almost gangly but she has an absolutely spectacular rack, I mean spectacular and a magnificent pussy, an erotic mound nicely covered in light brown hair.




Winging It



She laughed, "But a loving man AND wife ..."

"I'll have to do a little paper work." God, she looked so unbelievably fuckable.

"Paper work?" She obviously didn't understand.

"There's the small matter of my wife's agreement and the agreement of our hosts, we are, after all, here to be with them."

"And if they all agree?" 

I thought it strange that she was putting her wet bathing suit on again. She took my shrug as an acceptance and she followed me onto the deck where Janet was sitting on Bills' lap now, and they were laughing as they both seemed to be playing with her breasts. 

I watched Gloria step into the water, "Janet," she said, "I'm making lunch here tomorrow for Sandra. Would you join us?"



Wingman



Based on a true story…

It was a pretty normal Friday evening in my little college town. Basically, I had the choice of going to a frat party and drinking: staying in the dorms and rounding up a couple of the guys and drinking: or going to a dive bar and, ta-da, drinking.

The futility of it all was starting to wear me down so I decided against all three and just kicked back in my room and read a book while listening to some tunes. A solitary evening perhaps, but one that would most likely be more intellectually stimulating then normal. Plus I would not be paying for it with Tylenol in the morning.

Of course, since this was a decision that would keep me out of trouble it had no chance of actually lasting throughout the night. A more appropriate major for me would have been alcohol with a minor in athletics. Unlikely to be worth much in the job market but at least it would have been honest.

At about ten o’clock Jason walked into my room. I’d like to say he knocked but then it would not have been Jason. Jason was as full of contradictions as he was of himself. Thinking he was polite while never having learned how to knock was the least of these.

The one that was the most annoying was that he thought of himself as a “Ladies Man”.

Perhaps he was, at least until they sobered up. He thought he knew everything there was to know about women at 21. At best, he knew everything he was ever going to know about women by 21.

In the kind of cruel humor favored by those who think of the almighty as a sadist, Jason was a looker. Even a guy who has never felt leanings towards his own sex learns to recognize the competition. I was pretty confident about myself in most ways but I knew Jason killed me in that area.

However, he was so stuck up and shallow that he was hardly a threat on campus. With a student body of about 5000, word got around pretty quick.

“Dude, what are you doing,” Jason exclaimed at about 20 decibels louder than necessary. “It’s Friday night, you can’t just hang out.”

“Why Jason?” I replied, “You have a more productive plan for me?”

“Hell yes!” said Jason, “You got the room to yourself for the weekend because Andrew is down in Iowa City with Nicole, right?”

I nodded, because Jason knew perfectly well that this was almost always the case with my roommate. Andrew and Nicky had been together for as long as I knew them and it had been a key factor when Andrew was looking for a roomie. Who would not want the extra space most weekends? 

“Well, Greg just took off for Davenport so I’m in the same situation. Dude, I can’t just sit around, I gotta get laid!” Jason said that like he was hungry and wanted someone to go halves on a pizza. I knew at that point that I was going to get talked into it just to shut him up, so I put down my book and was already getting ready as he did a clumsy spin and headed to his room two doors down chanting, “Gomer’s, Gomer‘s, Gomer’s!”

Gomer’s was a typical college bar for one of these midwestern towns where the students made up a third of the population. It had two floors, the first with a bar and a dance floor and the basement with pool tables, another bar and the restrooms. With three colleges in town it was always fairly busy but only uncomfortably so on nights where they offered drink specials. 

It was part of a two-block strip located midway between the three schools that was close enough to each campus so drunks could walk back to the dorms. The local cops mostly turned a blind eye to the fact that ID checks were casual at best because it was convenient for them to have most of the kids concentrated in a controllable area.

As I pulled on my jacket Jason came sauntering back into my room and snatched my keys up off my desk.

“ C’mon, dude! I’m driving!”

“No,” I said coldly, “You’re not. It is less than a mile and odds are we will both be hammered by closing time. I’ll come along and play sidekick but my car stays here.”

“Jeez, lighten up Will,” Jason replied, “It’s been three fuckin’ weeks and she ain’t even that cool of a girl.”

Typical. Reminding me of my recent break-up was hardly a way to make me feel more festive, but for Jason to realize that would require that he think before speaking. Not likely.

Gomer’s was packed with kids celebrating the beginning of the weekend. The dance floor was wall-to-wall bodies and every table was taken so I kicked back against the bar while the hunter cruised from group to group looking for prey. Jason had been slamming beers in between dancing with different girls for the last hour but I had kinda chilled and nursed a couple of vodka tonics. Admittedly, the atmosphere was working a little bit and I was feeling slightly less anti-social. There were a couple of girls at a nearby table that I knew from a class at Clarke College. Maybe…

“DUDE! Check it out!”

“What, Jason?” I guess I had forgotten my primary role here. Just as I had decided to focus on a more pleasing possibility…

“There, Will, at the table on the right. The blonde, man, the blonde!” 

Say what you will, Jason was right this time. The girl in question was a stunner. She would stand out in any crowd. I wondered how it had taken this long for either of us to notice her. She was sitting with a group near the dance floor talking to a brunette who had her back to us.

“I’ve been watching for the last couple of minutes,” Jason confided, “The other people are all paired up except for her and the brunette. She’s turned a couple guys down. I don’t think she wants to leave her friend sitting alone, ya know.”

I have to admit that for him that was almost subtle. It was obvious he wanted me to ask the brunette to dance or at least to sit and talk with her while he hit on the blonde. What the hell, this was why he wanted me to come along in the first place. I either play wingman or I get to hold his hand on the walk home so he doesn’t get scared of the dark. Given that choice I would much rather end up holding her hand on a walk than his.

“OK, Jase, let’s give it a shot. Next song?”

“Yeah, but if it’s a slow song we just ask to sit down, right? I mean, we don’t want them to think we’re just trying to hit on them.”

“Jason, it’s Friday night at Gomer’s fer Christ’s sake! They WILL know we’re hitting on them.”

“Alright, alright, let’s just go talk to them.”

Jason walked towards the table with a fresh longneck held low in his right hand as if this were Tombstone and someone were about to call “draw”. I swore softly to kill him and followed.

“Ladies! How ya doing this evening? Mind if we join you?” God, Jason, do you have to sound like a bad seventies disco movie? The longhaired beauty looked up at him with a forthcoming dismissal but you could see her hesitate as she met his eyes. I already mentioned that Jason was a looker.

“Why not,” she said, “We could use some company, right Kris?”

“Sure Debbie,” replied her brunette friend, “ Why not?”

“Great!” said Jason, “My name is Jason and my silent friend here is William.” I just nodded hello, caught off guard by my good fortune. Certainly the blonde was a swimsuit model style stunner but her friend was cute too. I had prepared myself for it to be otherwise and was now making Jason’s joke to be truth as I smiled and sat down.

The two girls were a study in contrast. Kris offset Debbie’s California cheerleader look with deep brown (almost black) hair cut in a roaring 20’s style bob. Whereas her friend’s features were sharp and angled, Kris had more softness to her face. When we got up to dance the same proved true in their bodies. While neither girl would be called either fat or skinny, Debbie had more of a leanness to go with her 5’8” frame. Kris’ 5’5” was fuller.

Jason fell into the simple-minded banter typical of those who are only trying to maintain someone’s interest for a short period of time. Not saying too much that could be controversial and trying to keep subjects in play that would allow him to appear knowledgeable. Debbie was obviously wise to the game but was playing it to her own advantage.

Kris seemed as content as I was to just kick back and listen, both to the music and the dancing that was going on across the table from us. We sat quietly for about 10 minutes until the two dancers had both finished their beers. I could see that Jason wanted to get up and go for a refill but he was also hesitant to break away from what he obviously thought was a winning situation. Seizing the opportunity, I rose from my seat while slipping my hand underneath that of the girl seated next to me.

“Another beer Debbie? Jason?” I said as I stood up, lifting Kris’ hand at the same time. She took the hint and stood up with me.

‘MGD please,” said Debbie, flashing a perfect smile that spoke of either good genetics or a lot of daddy’s money.

“Here, Will, this time on me, eh?” Jason handed me a twenty. Now I knew he was fascinated. The last time Jason was responsible for a round of drinks was when his pop announced the birth at the corner bar. 

“Sure thing Jason,” I replied, trying not to show my surprise. It would not be cool to have Debbie pick up on the unusual event when Jason was trying to play it suave. He might have been a bit of a jerk but there are some things that a guy just should not do to another guy and sabotage on a Friday night is one of them. Kris and I turned and headed for the bar.

“Thanks,” said my new friend, “ It’s getting a little thick over there. I think Deb is looking to add another notch to her headboard.”

I looked down at Kris with a bemused smile. She gave me a grin that could best be described as mischievous.

“Don’t fret, I’m pretty used to it by now. Debbie and I have been roommates for two years and the whole time she’s been collecting pretty airheads the way you probably used to collect baseball cards. Don’t tell me you’re surprised. I could tell you already figured out who was in charge over there. Or I am overestimating you? You have the body of a dumb jock but I thought I saw some intelligence in your eyes.”

“No,” I said slowly, “I’ve pretty much figured out that Jason is in over his head. I didn’t realize the same was true of me until just now though.”

“Yeah right,” she replied, “Somehow I don’t think so. C’mon, buy me a drink and try to come up with a better line.”

Ok, now I was interested. Before I was just glad she was pretty. I admit to being a sucker for a girl with an attitude.

We picked up two beers for our friends while I got another vodka tonic and Kris ordered a Jack N’ Coke. As we neared the table the music changed to a slow jam and Jason and Debbie got up and headed for the dance floor. We set the drinks down and followed.

For the next couple of hours we alternated dancing and drinking while keeping sarcastic score on the progress of Jason and Debbie. At first the two of them were so busy thinking about what move they should make next that neither of them noticed the other was interested in the same objective, but somewhere around one a.m. they figured it out. From that point on they set up camp in a corner of the dance floor and locked lips until last call.

Meanwhile Kristina and I laughed and learned about each other. The DJ at Gomer’s was smart enough to end the night with a slow set and I leaned over during the last song and met with a very willing pair of lips. After a long slow kiss the song ended and the lights came up. Kris looked intensely into my eyes for a silent second.

“Christ, Will, fucking took you long enough! I’ve been waiting for that for at least an hour. Let’s grab those two and find someplace we can expand upon your final argument.”

I walked over to the corner where Debbie and Jason were still playing tonsil tag. “Hey Jason,” I announced, “Didja happen to notice that the lights came on? Time to hit the road.”

“Damn Will, I missed that…I’m a little distracted, if you catch my drift dude.”

“Guys,” Debbie broke in, “ Kris and I are going downstairs to the little girls room one last time. Meet the two of you outside?”

As we walked outside with most of the other patrons, Jason started in on what I knew was coming. After all, to notice anyone other than Debbie or the nearest mirror would have been a good five years over his maturity level.

“Hey Will, do you think you could handle trying to keep Debbie’s girlfriend occupied for a little while back at the dorms? I think I got a shot here tonight…”

“Ok Jason, just listen for once, alright. First, when you’ve been making out with a girl for an hour you obviously have more than just a possible chance. What the hell do think the girls are talking about right now? Debbie is asking Kristina the same thing.”

“Second, they drove an hour and a half from Waterloo to get here. They are not driving back tonight. Nor are they going to want to go straight back to Debbie’s parents house just yet. They’ve been drinking and will want to sober up a bit. Debbie is using a fake ID and won’t want to tip her parents off by showing up right as the bars close. Third, they are on foot, just like we are tonight. If you had been paying attention to what was said rather than proving you know all the lyrics to Vanilla Ice’s latest song you would know all this.”

“Finally, have you opened your fucking eyes all night? Kristina is just as hot as Debbie and you are damn straight I want to spend more time with her!”

“Well that’s nice to hear,” Kris whispered in my ear as her hands snaked around my waist from behind, “I’d hate to think I was boring you.”

“Hey ladies, where are we heading now?” said Jason; eager to pull attention away from the conversation the girls had interrupted. “Shall we take a walk in the moonlight?” He walked over to Debbie and put his arm around her. “I’ll keep you warm.” Jason pulled Debbie in tight on his right side and started up the street.

Kris was laughing lightly in my left ear, below her breath so that no one else could hear it. She took a playful bite at my earlobe and then snaked around beside me to rest her head on my left shoulder, her right hand slipping into the back pocket of my jeans.

“What’s so funny?” I asked quietly as Jason and Debbie settled into a slow pace a few steps ahead of us.

“Ask me later,” Kris replied, “Suffice it to say that I know how some things are going to turn out tonight. I think our friends are a good match. They have a lot in common.” She looked up at me and I did as instructed by her eyes and her smile and kissed her again. She squeezed with her hand and said, “Is this the shortest way? I’d like to get somewhere private as soon as possible.”

“Jason,” I called ahead, “Take the left on to Nutmeg. We’re gonna cut across the campus and head straight for the dorms.” The look he gave me told me that he thought he still needed to do some convincing on Debbie so I gave him the hard stare and tone of voice I would give one of my pitchers who had been shaking me off. “Trust me.”

As we approached the dorms a few minutes later Kris gave me a squeeze and a peck and said, “Give us a second, OK?” She steeped forward and pulled Debbie off to the side and Jason headed back towards me.

“Dude,” he said quietly, “What are you pulling? If you blow this for me…”

“Jason,” I replied in the same half whisper, “Did she object? There was already no doubt where we were headed when we left Gomer’s. Trust me. You’re already ahead in the count. Get aggressive and throw strikes or you’ll end up with a walk.”

“Shit, dude! Quit with the baseball crap and talk English. You think I’m already in?”

“Did she object when I said to head straight for the dorms? You figure it out. Now listen. See James’ light on? It is way after curfew. Head for the west door. That side the Resident Assistant’s light is off, plus I know that James has a mid-term on Monday. He is still awake studying and he’ll hear us. You know how he is, if he didn’t hear it or see it he’s cool but otherwise he’ll feel honor-bound to do his job. Just be quiet and head for your room. Don’t worry about me.”

“Thanks buddy,” Jason said, “ I owe you big for tonight.”

“Well,” I replied, “Let’s deal with that later.” Looking over Jason’s shoulder I caught the look I was getting from Kris and thought to myself that what he didn’t know didn’t hurt him.

We all snuck up the stairs and into our rooms without incident. I sighed in relief as I shut and locked the door. I had been half afraid that idiot boy was going to screw this up for both of us. As I turned around I saw Kris sitting on my bed in the light from the window.

The angle and light suited her so well it almost took my breath away. She held up a box of Marlboro Reds and raised her eyebrows.

“You smoke?”

“No, but my roomie does. Why, you want one?”

“Maybe later. After. Come here, you.”

I didn’t have to be asked twice. I moved to her side and captured that sarcastic tongue with my own. In private now, I let the stand back approach drop and showed her just how interested I really was, without the pretense of playing it cool. I knew the desire was mutual, and the way she responded to my ardor proved the point. Finally, after several minutes she moved her hands to my chest and created a little space.

“Damn, boy! Why you been holding out on me? Let me see if I can still breathe.” She gave a playful shake to her head. “What about that roommate you mentioned? Any chance that he’ll come home?”

“Not a one,” I replied, “He’s two and a half hours away. Get as comfortable as you like.”

“Then close those blinds,” Kris replied, “ but leave the lights off. After all, I barely know you.” This last was accompanied by a mischievous wink and smile.

“True,” I said, “But I want to see you. I like what I see already and I bet you’ll look even better underneath.” So saying, I grabbed matches and lit the couple of candles I usually burned to counter Andrew’s smoking. In my nervousness I almost dropped the matches twice. Did she realize the effect she was having on me? I shut both sets of blinds and turned around.

Judging by the look on her face and the half undone blouse she did know. She caught my eyes with hers as she undid the last couple of buttons and let the shirt drop open to reveal a lacy white bra. The contrast between the dark blouse and the bra made her breasts look even larger and more perfect. She let her shoes drop off her feet one at a time to clatter on the hard floor. My bed sat about waist high and she slipped off it and reached behind the small of her back. I heard her zipper and then she shook her hips slightly and the skirt followed the shoes. My eyes tracked up her legs and widened slightly as I noticed that the panties were obviously part of a matched set with the bra.

“You know, Kris, I have two sisters.” I approached her and slipped my hand under the blouse and around to the small of her back. “Both have mentioned at one time or another the significance of a girl making sure her underwear matches. Any truth to it?”

“You know, Will,” Kris replied, mimicking my tone and phrasing, “For someone who was so quiet at the bar you sure are using your mouth for the wrong thing now.”

Kris ran both her hands up my back quickly, pressing her nails into my flesh through my shirt in a way that was just short of painful, and buried them in my hair to roughly pull me down to kiss her. I didn’t resist. We played teasing games with each other, lips slightly parted to feel the quick thrust of a tongue on occasion. Every so often one of us would slip over to nibble an earlobe or nuzzle a neck. Time seemed unimportant but I’m sure that it was more than just a couple of minutes. I was having as much fun just kissing this girl as I often had all night with someone else.

Kris broke away from our kiss and pushed me a half step back as she leaned on the bed. She ran her fingers to the buttons of my shirt and started to undo them quickly and smoothly.




Wingman



“My turn to see what you’re hiding. I can feel but I want to see too.”

Truthfully, I was in the best shape of my life. Playing two sports meant I was always either in season or in training and while I wasn’t ready for a fitness magazine I also knew I looked good. I was also fairly strong.

While she continued to undo my shirt I lifted her effortlessly onto the bed. I slid my right hand up to the middle of her back and took the bra clasp between thumb and index finger and got very lucky as all three hooks slid out.

“Naughty boy. Hands down now so I can slip this shirt off of you. Uh huh.”

Kristina ran her fingertips down my arms and into my palms and then returned up to my neck before running them down through the short soft hair on my chest to the waistband of my black jeans. I was pleased that she so obviously liked what she had found. She slipped her fingertips inside the waistband and began to kiss and nuzzle my neck and shoulders. Her eager fingers unsnapped my jeans and started to tug at the zipper.

“One second,” I said, “Let me get my shoes and socks off.” I sat down in the chair at my desk and quickly pulled the offending items and dropped them safely out of the way. A guy in jeans or boxers and no shirt or socks looks just fine. Boxers and socks without the pants look kinda silly.

I glanced up just in time to see Kris shrugging out of her blouse and letting the bra fall off her arms. In the soft candlelight I was certain that I was viewing the most perfect breasts ever created by god or man. Her nipples were large and very pink against the whiteness of her flesh and were as hard as little rocks. I moved quickly towards her, with nothing more on my mind than tasting them and nibbling at them with my front teeth. 

Kris stopped me with an outthrust right palm. She didn’t say a word, just kissed me lightly and patted the bed next her with her left hand. I obediently sat beside her and she pushed me onto my back with my head coming to rest perfectly against my pillow.

“Let’s see,” she said, kissing me lightly around the edges of my face and forehead, “where was I?” Her dangling breasts teased my chest as she gazed into my eyes from her hands and knees. “Oh yes…”

Kris began to kiss her way down my chest. She paused briefly to run her tongue in a circular motion around each of my nipples, proving that hers were not necessarily the hardest in the room. As she moved across my belly in a series of light kisses and flicks of wet tongue she gave the occasional nip to my skin, adding a touch of almost pain. I was really beginning to like this girl!

At the waistband of my boxers she paused; she looked up at me and walked her hand up to my chin. She teased my lips apart with her fingernail and I took the hint, and her finger, into my mouth. I sucked and nibbled at her finger and she responded by pulling it out with a popping sound. Her hand trailed down my left side back to the waistband and slid beneath me. She pulled up on my hips and I lifted off the bed to allow her to slide the shorts off of me.

In doing so she had to sit back up a bit, so that now she was resting on her knees with her lace-framed ass sitting on her heels. The pose itself may have seemed rather submissive but there was no real doubt as to who was in charge at the moment. Her fingernails came to rest against my very hard cock and she smiled, licked her tongue from right to left across her top teeth, and leaned over to begin kissing her way up the inside of my left leg.

Judging from how she seemed to like drawing things forward slowly I was expecting her to skip over to my right leg, but she surprised me again by reaching up to grasp my shaft and plunging the head deep into her mouth in a smooth motion that was almost violent in its suddenness. My hips rose off the bed involuntarily and drove it even deeper, but she took me in calmly, eyes barely open with the crinkle of what would have been a smile at their corners.

Too many of the girls I had been with fell into two categories when it came to cock sucking. Either they were so busy concentrating on their technique that it became almost mechanical or you could tell that they were only doing it to please you, taking no pleasure in the act and just wanting it to end as soon as possible. Kris was having fun.

After that first deep thrust she pulled back and ran her tongue up the sides like she was trying to catch the drops off a melting Popsicle on an August afternoon. Then she licked her lips and laid the bottom of the glans against her tongue while she slid just the tip quickly in and out of her mouth, somehow making sure that I felt those wonderful lips yet never even making me aware of her teeth. She changed that and made me very aware of those teeth. She never actually bit me but I definitely felt their pressure and hardness.

Kris slowly nibbled her way up each side to run her tongue in a circle around the head. She would follow this with a long slow swallowing motion that would take me in so far that I was sure her nose was about to touch stomach. Her cheeks would cave in and I would feel every single fraction of an inch that was in her mouth. Slowly, she would slide back up the shaft with her lips clamped down firm and a low rumble of a moan that sounded like she was saying yum.

The whole time she was watching my face for my reactions, and repeating motions that seemed to register surprise and or pleasure in my features. She played me like I was an instrument and my shakes, shudders and gasps were the music. Twice she brought me to a crescendo only to slow the tempo and continue the song. Nor was that the only music, for she allowed herself the freedom to be noisy as well. Just hearing her would have made me come some nights, but she was not willing for that to happen just yet.

For what seemed an eternity she teased me with the edge of orgasm. Seconds dragged pleasurably on and minutes were lifetimes. I was too busy trying to breathe to actually notice how long she continued. 

Finally she broke away and rested her right cheek on my left thigh while she waited for me to touch earth again and make eye contact. She had the slight smile on her face that comes of knowing you’ve made a positive impression. She began to giggle when I hooked my hands under her arms and pulled her firmly to my chest. I planted a thankful kiss on lips that I now had more reason to appreciate.

“My turn,” she said as slid off my chest and onto her left side.

I just smiled and kissed her again. I took my time and let my tongue run freely into her mouth, playfully running circles around hers and brushing around her lips and teeth. The idea was to make her think I was avoiding what she said. The truth was that I was eager to taste her and to return the favor, but I also was beginning to think that the longer the tease went on the hotter she would get.

The first time I felt her hands run up to the top of my shoulders I pulled my tongue out and began to gently kiss my way down her neck. I paused to play Dracula a bit and nibble at her neck. Before her motions became too insistent I left the side of her neck and ran my tongue into the valley between her large breasts. As I licked my way up the side and circled her right nipple with wetness, another part of her personality came forth.

“Oh, FUCK, yes! Suck my goddamn tits. That feels so fucking good. Suck ‘em

hard, baby!”

I happily did as I was told, moving back and forth from one hard pink candy to the other. I sucked her nipples deep into the back of my throat. The whole time I let my hands wander, first sliding down to the outside of her thigh and then trailing them back up to her chest lightly so that just the very tips were brushing against her skin. I played with her marvelous flesh and ran my tongue from the underside of each all the way around in a smooth wet spiral to finish by attacking her nipples with firm insistent suction.

“Oh yeah, baby, do you like my big fucking tits in your mouth? Uh huh, that’s right, suck my titties. Just like that. Oh god yes.”

Each time Kris cursed, it came out with a little bit of an edge to it and I could tell that talking this way was turning her on even more. Even though I was not under the impression she was shy to begin with I was surprised. Though far from a virgin, I had never been with a girl who talked so dirty and who obviously got off on it.

I continued to lavish attention on her breasts and nipples until I felt her hands stop resting on my back and start to make their way towards my shoulders. I wondered if I should see if she would actually go as far as pushing me down. Based on my past girlfriends that was a move more likely to come from a male, and I wondered if Kris would go through with it.

I scooted down just as she was getting ready to grasp the tops, and she moved her hands up to play with her tits as though it had been her intention the whole time. As I reached her navel I stopped to flick at it playfully while I slipped my fingers under the sides of the lace on her last remaining garment. As I slipped the panties down her legs I made my mouth follow, skipping lightly over her trimmed hair and down the inside of her thigh. I let the panties fall over the side of the bed and returned my attention to where it belonged.

I kissed my way back up her legs to where they met and paused to look up into her eyes. She was watching me and as our eyes met I raised my left eyebrow and gave the smirk that had led to my frat brothers nicknaming me “Bluto”. Kris just nodded and silently mouthed the word “please”.

I kissed her thighs to either side and then stuck out my tongue and lightly ran it from the bottom of her slit up and lightly flick the hood covering her clit at the top. While Kris did not shave she did keep her hair trimmed short and I was able to have a great view of what I was doing even in the relative dark of candlelight. Her pussy glistened with wetness and its moist scent was intoxicating in a way that no liquor was.

I buried my face in her with a lust that surprised even me. I lapped and sucked and nibbled, and made every effort to suck every drop of moistness off of her lips. As I continued to flick my tongue up and down and back and forth, the sluttish talk that had greeted my previous efforts made a comeback.

“Oh yes, lick that cunt you bastard, lick my fucking cunt. Oh god, don’t stop. Do you like the way my cunt tastes? Suck my damn pussy, oh yes!”

Again it seemed as though she was using the language to turn herself on. I had heard girls claim that they really didn’t like dirty talk and it just slipped out but that was not the case here. I could tell that Kris was deliberately using it to heighten her pleasure.

I let the knowledge go for now and continued to work my way into her with my tongue. I buried my face and attached my hands to the cheeks of her ass so I could lift her off the bed and jam her even harder into my chin. I continued to alternate running my tongue up and down her lips with thrusts into her tunnel and quick flicks across the hood and even under to directly contact her clit. I kept it up despite starting to get tired as I felt her legs begin to tremble even stronger.

Kris’ breathing got more ragged and deeper and I knew I was approaching my goal. I stuck my tongue out and shook my head side to side, causing her to thrust her hips up and off the bed and I knew it was close. I slipped my thumb around and pulled back her hood and sucked her clit as hard as I could.

Her hips exploded upward as her thighs locked down tight over my ears. I felt, more than heard, the air go out of her with a loud groan as one of her hands grabbed a fistful of my hair and she bucked against my face three or four times. Slowly the stiffness leaked out of her and she relaxed back onto the bed.

I made my way up her body with small nips and kisses. By the time I reached her face I had managed to get most of her wetness off my face but I needn’t have worried as Kris showed no hesitation at meeting my lips nor at moving her tongue deep into my mouth and wrestling with mine.

“Feeling good?” I asked sarcastically.

“Mmmmhmmm,” she replied, “But I want more.”

“Me too,” I said as I moved the head of my super hard cock to the entrance of her super wet pussy, “And right now too.” With that I thrust hard into her and buried myself to the hilt. 

Kris lifted her hips off the bed to meet me. We had a few awkward moments as each of us tried to control the tempo and rhythm. To stop this I thrust hard and locked my hips so she was all but pinned to the bed, took my mouth away from hers and made eye contact. Then I settled onto my left arm and wiggled my right finger in front of her face in the universal motion that means no, no, no. Taking a cue from her earlier actions I decided to try something.

“Not right now you little slut! When I’m on top, I’m in charge. All you need to do is keep that wet cunt right where it is. You feel that hard cock buried in your pussy little slut? You like being fucked?” With every natural pause I slammed my hips forward in emphasis and with each swear word her eyes seemed to sparkle a little more and her breathing deepened. Sensing that my educated guess had been correct, I decided to try a new tactic.

“I…asked…you…a…question…slut!” With each word I slammed down upon her and in the pauses pulled slowly back. Her eyes were closed; her mouth was wide open and gasping for air between little moans. I kept at it, varying the tempo slightly with my hips, the words achieving a rhythmic cadence that I hoped would drive her slowly to another orgasm. “Do you like that? My hard dick slamming into your cunt? It sounds like you do. I feel how wet you are. You love cock, don’t you slut? Love to have your pussy pounded. Squeeze that hard dick with your pussy you wanton little fuck machine. That’s it. Lift those fucking hips so I can feel your ass. You’re going to cum again. I can feel it. Cum for me.”

At that last, Kris opened her eyes and stared into mine with a fire that was burning very hot. “Tell me again,” she panted, “and I promise you I will.”

“ I said cum for me you fucking little,” I started, but my words were lost in the primal yell that came out of Kris as her body stiffened and her legs lifted off the bed. She pulled me down into her chest as she spasmed again and again and when I bit at her nipple she gave one last hard thrust up as her legs shook and the air seemed to rush out of her in a loud sigh. That sigh seemed to last forever and I knew I had done something right.

Of course, I still wanted to cum too. I gave Kris a few moments to recuperate and then began to make long slow thrusts. I knew it would not be long. I was so turned on by the extreme reaction she had experienced that I felt it would only be moments. I was not wearing a condom and I knew I should pull out. I was dreading it, but I need not have.

“Are you ready to shoot, baby?” Kris asked this with a tone in her voice that made me a little unsure. “Are you going to cum for me now?”

“Pretty soon, sexy,” I managed to grunt.

Kris flipped us over with a suddenness that caught me completely by surprise. Although I had felt the muscles in her arms and legs as she orgasmed and could tell she was in great shape, I was still about 190 lbs. and I did not think she was that strong. Now she was on top.

Kris did not say a word, but she pulled her pussy up off my cock and slid down my body to bury it in her throat. It was both unexpected and wonderful, and it was quite frankly more than I could stand. Almost immediately I felt my moment approaching. I tried to grunt out a warning, but it was needless. She knew what she was doing.

Kris was not afraid of it. As I started to spurt she pulled back up until just the very head was in her mouth and she pumped at me like she wanted to make sure she got every last drop. It was incredibly sexy.

After I had exhausted every last reserve she took me deep again and then slowly and lovingly licked and caressed me while I fell into softness, not just my hard-on but also my whole body relaxing. 

Kris rocked back onto her knees and gazed at me. She lifted a finger and captured a small white drop that had slipped out to adorn her upper lip and made a production out of licking it off her finger. Finally she settled in, put both hands on her knees and spoke.

“Well? Didja like that?”

“Like it? Christ, I think I’m in love.”

A big smile crept across her face. I think it was half pride and half satisfaction. Then she started to look real smug and thoughtfully ran her tongue across her upper lip.

“You taste…OK. I might let it happen again. If you behave.”

“Oh no you don’t. Don’t try to play that. I’m not the only one that had fun here. Plus, I’ve learned something about you too, haven’t I? I found one of your triggers, didn’t I … Little Slut?”

I would not have believed it if I wasn’t seeing it. Here was an incredibly sexy young woman who had just milked me like I was a vanilla shake and had not shown even the slightest embarrassment or shyness and I could have read a book by the red light of her blushing cheeks!

“I don’t usually allow that,” Kris said, “I don’t know why I let that slip out. I guess you won’t want to see me again now. I’m sorry. It just…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I stopped her apologies, “ I liked it.”

“You did?” Kris responded with a shy smile, “Really, it’s OK?”

“It’s more than OK, baby, I…”

(Knock, knock, knock)

“Kris? Are you ready to go?”

It was Debbie, gently knocking at the door. Kris raised her eyebrows at me in a resigned and quizzical manner before replying.

“Give me just a couple of minutes and we’ll be right out, ok? We’ll come down the hall to get you.” 

“ I suppose we should get dressed now,” I said reluctantly, “Although I really wish we could just lay here for awhile. You know, the night is young and all that.”

“Not as young as it might feel,” said Kris, “Look at the clock over there.”

Four a.m.! Even though I was aware that the expression of time flying when you are having fun was pretty true that just did not seem possible. Yet as I thought back it made more sense. Last call is at a little before two, then anywhere from a half-hour to forty-five minutes to wander out and walk back to campus. That left about an hour and fifteen minutes for Kris and I to get to know each other. It fit, it was just that things had moved so quickly after we were finally alone. It could be that long; it just hadn’t seemed to be so. 

We took our time getting dressed, despite Kris’ promise to Debbie. I couldn’t honestly say it was as much fun as taking things off, but it also held none of the silent standoffish style that could occur with a one-night encounter. By the time I was helping her back into her blouse I knew that this was not the last time.

There was a gentle tap at the door. The knob tried to turn but it was still locked, so Jason whispered thru it.

“You guys decent? Will, we should walk the girls back to Debbie’s parents house before it gets any later.”

I walked over and opened the door. 

“You mean earlier Jase. I highly doubt her parents are up and waiting.”

“No,” said Debbie, whom I had not realized was there as well, “But we should try to get some sleep. Jason and I were thinking we could get together in the early afternoon and have a picnic in the park that overlooks the river.”

“C’mon lover,” said Kris as she stole stealthily under my arm and into the hall, “Walk me home so we have energy for later today.”

The walk home in the fog and early morning that followed was dreamlike. The mist surrounded us and made every streetlight a halo. We could only see perhaps a hundred feet but this was Debbie’s home town and she knew the way even so. Kris rested her head on my shoulder much of the way, occasionally giving a squeeze with her right hand, which was in the back pocket of my jeans.




Wingman



Jason seemed somewhat subdued, but when I mentioned this to Kris all she did was give an wicked little evil giggle and tell me I should talk to Jason on the way home and remind him that God has a sense of humor.

Eventually, we reached the steps leading up to Debbie’s door and settled in to give our lovely ladies a goodnight kiss. After a long time without much breathing Kris gently pulled away and just smiled up at me before turning to walk past Jason and up the short set of stairs. As she started to go by him she stopped, took his hand, whispered something in his ear and kissed him on the cheek. Then she smiled back at me and both girls went inside.

Jason and I walked the first few minutes in the silence that can only come at that time when almost no one is awake and even the birds are enjoying it. No cars were on the streets and I decided to stay quiet for a while despite my curiosity.

I made it about half way back to campus before I could not wait any longer.

“Jason,” I asked, “What did Kris say to you?”

“Oh, dude, don’t worry about it. She was just telling me not to get too down. She’s a pretty cool chick. I hope you guys weren’t too bored. I owe you one man, even with how things turned out. It was really cool of you to take one for the team dude. Even though it was kinda wasted. But those chicks are cool. We’ll see ‘em tomorrow and maybe next weekend we could jet out to UNI together and take them out.”

“Hell yes we can. We don’t play until Sunday. But Jason,” I said insistently, “I don’t understand. What the fuck are you talking about? She was all over you, I know she likes you.”

“Oh yeah, dude, she likes me fine. But that’s why the girls went downstairs before we left Gomer’s. Debbie started her period at the bar.”

I know it was cruel of me to laugh.