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A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 01

By: C.C. Rider



When we look back on our lives, we often focus on particular events to the exclusion of others. It is a way of protecting ourselves from the immensity of the whole of our experience. Certain times in our life begin to take on a theme, and certain moments stand out as turning points. When we attempt to define the narrative of our life, we focus on these themes and these moments, and we ascribe to them a significance that fictionalizes them. These moments only represent a metaphor for the greater truth of the whole story. 

As the years go by, I find myself continuing to look back on a particular time in my life that has become very important to me. This story is about that time. The story is true. Every fact of it occurred. What makes the story a fiction is my purposeful exclusion of many other, extraneous experiences that shaped my life at the time. They are no more or less important than the experiences I have included in the story; I simply have chosen to omit them because they cling only to the periphery of my memory. I have chosen to tell the story in vivid detail because the details are important to me. They are what form the substance of my memories. The story is about the summer of 1979. It was the summer I graduated from college. It was also the summer I discovered sex. Not the act of sexual intercourse – that came much earlier. What I discovered was a new relationship with my sexuality that forever changed the person that I am.

I know that the real story is not solely about sex. There was so much more than that going on in my life and inside of me. But the sex tells the story better than all those other details could. It is the sex I remember. It is the sex that now defines this period in my life, and it is my experiences with the people with whom I explored my sexuality that made this a turning point in my life. The story focuses on the sex, but the sex only serves to identify the theme. I hope you enjoy it, but more importantly, I hope you take the time to try and understand the real story, the truth behind the fiction. 

*******

My given name is Madelyn. It is a horrible name. My parents told me it was a beautiful name because it was the name of my very Irish, paternal grandmother. My grandmother was a beautiful person, but the name is still horrible. My parents called me Maddy, but beginning in grade school I insisted on using my middle name: Andrea. My friends insist on calling me Annie. I am in my mid-forties now, I have two adolescent children and a loving husband of seventeen years, and I love my life.

I was born and raised in the Midwest, and like so many other Midwestern girls, I went to college in a small Midwestern town that was all but consumed by the enormous Midwestern university that called the town home. I enjoyed college life, if only because it was such a vast improvement over my life in high school. I didn't feel very good about myself in high school. I am a tall woman, just over 5'10, and I matured early, which is another way of saying that even at a young age I had a womanly figure, with wide, mature hips. I wasn't fat in high school, but I was a little overweight, soft and fleshy and awkward in my frame. I also suffered with acne. Why in my life, just when my looks were to become most important to me, did I have to suffer from sores breaking out on my face? It seemed like too cruel a joke. It's not that I wasn't "accepted," whatever that means in a high school context. I had a nice circle of girlfriends, a few of whom I actually trusted. I had the occasional date now and then, and a couple of steady boyfriends who didn't treat me too badly. No relationship with a boy ever really amounted to much, though: a few awkward tussles in the back seat of a car; a couple hurried, nervous efforts at love spoiled by the ever-present dread of being discovered by a parent. At the time, I thought my life was horrible. As I look back on it, it wasn't so bad, but things were better in college.

For one thing, I turned out to be a good student. I was a good student in high school, too, but there was never any real challenge in that. All anyone had to do in high school was show up. In college, that wasn't always true. I noticed that some students would struggle despite their best efforts. Thankfully, that wasn't the case for me, and while being a good student in high school didn't do a lot for my self-esteem, it did wonders for me in college. I studied business and psychology, and went on to graduate school and received my MBA degree from a large, well-known university in California.

Perhaps even more importantly, at least from a social perspective, my acne miraculously cleared. I don't know that I can remember the exact date I first noticed the change, but it was during the latter half of my freshman year. I remember looking in my dormitory bathroom mirror one morning and being startled by the realization that I wasn't hideous. Instead of acne I saw bright green eyes, cute freckles across the bridge of my nose, and a charming smile. I don't know that I want to say I was pretty. I probably was. But what was important to me was that I realized I had changed from an acne plagued little girl into an honest-to-God woman – one with a relatively pleasant and clear face. I was overwhelmed.

I had also lost some weight. Beginning the summer before college, I started jogging and swimming and lifting weights. By the end of my freshman year I had gone from a tight size ten (okay, a twelve) to a comfortable size eight (okay, a tight size eight). While I probably thought I could stand to lose even a few more pounds at the time, I would have to laugh at that thought today. I was definitely not "skinny," but the difference was remarkable. 

I began to think of myself as an attractive woman. My newfound confidence, together with my clear complexion and new figure, did wonders for my relationships with men. In high school, everything seemed to be about sex, but it wasn't because I was sexy, it was because the boys were so desperate. If I went on a date with a boy, and I didn't "put out," at least a little something, I would never see the boy again. Even the two boys I did go out with on a more regular basis were always pawing and groping at me, and they lost interest in me when I didn't "put out" as often or as much as they wanted me to. 

As insecure as I was, I wasn't needy, and I didn't want to engage in sex just so some guy would notice me or stay with me. I have to admit that I didn't escape high school as a virgin, but sex the way I remember it then was brief, awkward, and not very pleasant. My few naïve and more often than not unsuccessful attempts at making love usually resulted from a strange sense of obligation on my part. Everyone needs to feel wanted. To the extent I knew I was being used, I have forgiven myself. A girl needs a date now and then, especially in high school. But knowing I was being used certainly didn't help with the way I felt about myself. 

The change in my perception of myself came with a noticeable change in the way men would treat me. Sometime just after spring break, a cute guy from my freshman biology class asked me out. His name was Rick, and he was the best looking guy that I had ever spoken to, let alone dated, and I was mortified because I really did have a conflict and had to say no. He slunk off before I could say, "Some other time?" But miracle of miracles, he asked me out again. Not only that, but when I left him at my door with a soft peck on his cheek, he called me and asked me out yet again! That would have never happened in high school, and I was probably a little too grateful. On our second date, Rick and I made love. It was a mistake, but I was on a learning curve. Our relationship lost its innocence and was never the same again. Still, he was my first real sexual encounter, and I don't regret it.

Don't get me wrong. I hadn't turned into a beauty queen by any stretch of the imagination. Guys weren't flocking to my door. If anything, it was a subtle change. Even though Rick and I didn't turn out, I began to see the real possibility of a meaningful relationship with a guy because I wanted the relationship. It could be my choice. I like to think that that change would have occurred even if I had remained overweight and acne-ridden, but I'll never know. During my sophomore year I only dated a few guys more than once. Nothing meaningful developed, but I wasn't worried. I stopped worrying so much about what my date thought of me, and started to concentrate more on what I thought of my date.

In my junior year I moved out of the dormitory and into a house with four other girls from my floor. I quickly learned that for whatever reason, sharing a house with someone is much more intimate than sharing a dormitory floor. It was kind of crazy. One girl became addicted to cocaine, and another seemed to slut around with any stray guy that would have her. There were lots of drugs available, it being the late 70s and all. Marijuana and cocaine mostly. I had experimented with marijuana in high school, and continued to enjoy it occasionally in college. I tried cocaine a few times, but never caught on to its allure. I tried mushrooms a few times, and thought the experience was profound and enjoyable, but I stayed away from LSD, precisely because I thought it might be too profound and enjoyable. But compared to a few of my roommates, my "experimentation" was just that. The girl with the cocaine habit was a drug slut, and the sex slut was constantly on drugs, albeit it was guys with drugs that seemed to be her real addiction. I just concentrated on my studies and tried to let the strange goings on go on without me. 

For my senior year, my two relatively sane roommates and I moved to another house. This time we shared the house with two guys, and it actually turned out great. They were far more stable than the two girls we left behind. It seemed we had an unspoken rule against dating or screwing around within the house, and that worked out well. By the middle of my first term, I had sent off all of my applications for graduate school, so I put my schoolwork school on auto-pilot and started to make a conscious effort to have a little more fun. 

Of the young men I dated that year, Rudy is the one I remember most fondly. He was very quiet, and very sweet to me. He was also a big marijuana user. It wasn't that he was obsessive, he just really enjoyed it, and I learned to like it quite a bit while I was with him. I noticed it made me feel very sensual. I started to think about sex a lot during my time with Rudy. I probably thought about it more than Rudy did, but unlike Rudy (I'm sure) my thoughts always came back to one central concern: I wondered why I didn't enjoy it more. 

Perhaps I should have been satisfied with the mere fact that I no longer found sex unpleasant. These guys that I dated weren't lousy lovers (at least for the most part). I just felt like I wasn't quite getting the whole picture. I enjoyed sex, and the marijuana seemed to open me up to the possibility that I could be significantly more sensual, more attuned to my desires. 

I had always masturbated, since it first felt good, and I was pretty certain I knew what an orgasm was (boy, I would learn). I had never been a regular practitioner, however. My mood had to be right, and even then, it rarely lead to anything earth shattering. I might get a little light headed from time to time. I had started to enjoy fucking, and I could tell there was some promise there, but up to that point I hadn't ever come during sex. This always made me feel a little left out when my partner came. I loved cunnilingus, especially when the guy had some slight idea of what he was doing (which was rare), and I had felt trembles and twitters that I assumed were orgasms. But I knew there was more, and I wanted to know how to get there.

During my time with Rudy, the winter of my senior year, I started to experiment more aggressively with masturbation. I read a few books, and this inspired me to order a vibrator from a classified ad in a woman's magazine. I went from occasionally giving myself a nervous, guilt-ridden little feel to being quite the enthusiast. I was a woman on a mission. I started masturbating three to five times a week. I tried numerous techniques and all kinds of fantasies, even ones I was pretty certain wouldn't do anything for me. I fantasized about being with another woman, and I played out various bondage and domination scenarios, but ultimately I found it wasn't worth the effort. I learned I was a pretty simple girl when it came to sex (I still am, too). Despite all their weaknesses and imperfections, I like men. I like the way they smell. I like the taste of their mouths. I like the feel of a strong back as I run my hands over it. I like it when they're shy and gentle, and I like it when they are playful and rough. I like straight sex, missionary position, pubic bone to pubic bone, chest to chest, pressing hard against each other, strong, eager thrusting, wrapping my legs tightly around him and squeezing him into me. That's what I found myself fantasizing about most often. My God, I thought, how boring am I?

As much as I like oral sex, it didn't serve well as masturbatory fantasy. All I could think about is how much more I preferred the real thing. Through these frequent and sometimes frustrating efforts at masturbation, I found that besides straight sex, the sexiest and most gratifying of my fantasies had to do with masturbating with a boyfriend. This probably resulted from a lack of imagination on my part, but after some pretty heroic efforts at exploring my sensuality through masturbation, I felt a certain comfort in the simplicity of a fantasy that incorporated what I was actually doing – masturbating. 

I found two aspects of my shared masturbation fantasy pleasing. First, I liked the idea of being watched. It made me feel sexual and connected to the person watching, like I could use their energy, and their desire to see me satiated, and that would make it okay, even important for me to really let go and enjoy the sensation. Maybe the idea of sharing the experience freed me from the guilt and loneliness I felt when I masturbated. I also liked the idea of watching my partner masturbate. I liked the feeling of raw sexual power in knowing that the sight of my naked body could cause a man to achieve an aching erection. 

Before this time in my life, I had always known that a man could achieve an erection with me, but I never felt it was because of me. But now, finally, I not only felt like I was attractive, I felt like I was sexy. I could look at myself in the mirror and run my hands over my breasts, and enjoy how plump they were and how perfectly they filled the cup of my hands, the soft flesh spilling from my grasp. The sight of my pale and somewhat large areolas, which swelled as my nipples hardened and thrust outward, excited me. Often I would brush out my reddish/fawn colored hair so that the loose curling ends would tickle my nipples, and I would sway my shoulders back and forth so that my breasts all but floated in front of me, nipples taught and tender. These lovely breasts, the curve of my hip, the soft down of my pubic hair, the round fullness of my ass – I knew these images of me were enough to send the blood rushing to a man's penis, and that excited me. It was the beginning of something new for me. I was having sexual fantasies, and I was developing a desire to fulfill them. 

I had always looked at men as a means of satisfying some emotional need. I wanted them to like me, and somehow thereby validate my worth. Now I was beginning to see men in a different light, more as a means of satisfying my physical desires with a lot less emotional baggage. I didn't necessarily want them to like me. I wanted them to desire me. I wanted to turn them on, and use their lust to ignite my own sexual fires. I wanted to explore my sex, my passion, and my hunger. 

I remember the first time I truly experienced this change. It was, snowy night in February. It was clearly just the beginning, however – the first smoke from the volcano.

Rudy had a clean cut, boyish charm about his face that belied his ravenous appetite for marijuana. He had dark blue eyes that I loved to look at, but on this particular night I couldn't keep my eyes off his penis. Rudy and I were lying naked on my bed smoking a joint. We were both sitting up, side-by-side with our backs against the headboard. Rudy's body was lean, hard and dark, with wisps of black hair everywhere. He had just come out of the shower after getting back late that night from his job at the party store. His penis was lying flaccid and small in his pubic hair, completely relaxed. The marijuana had affected me in just the way I had hoped. I had a warm, sensual feeling in my center, and my skin felt radiant and soft. I kept looking at his penis, mesmerized, and I decided to try an experiment. I started to stroke my pubic hair, running it between my fingers and pressing down against my mound. I petted the small pelt of reddish hair, and teased it. Rudy put out the joint and started to reach for my pussy. I whispered, "Just watch." I arched my hand and slid my index finger to the tip of my clitoris. I pushed it like a button, and then ran my finger further down my folds until my finger was damp and warm. I pulled it back up and began rubbing my clitoris in a slow, teasing, circular motion. I let out a little sigh, and I watched as Rudy's penis began to swell. It was if it were slowly emerging from a cocoon. It creped sideways and then leaned upright, now twice the size from where it began, but the skin was still loose and ruffled. He started to reach for himself, and again I whispered, "Just watch." He obediently clasped his hands on his stomach.

I pulled my hand slowly up over my tummy, and with both hands I cupped my breasts. I twirled my hardening nipples between my fingers. Then I reached again for my pussy, this time with both hands. I spread my lips with the fingers of my left hand and pulling up gently, I unsheathed my clitoris. I let it breathe for a moment, and then I pinched it with the fingers of my free hand. I groaned and purred, and continued to stroke myself. Rudy's penis continued to grow. It had fallen against his belly and was thick and swollen, the tip pushing on towards his belly button. 

I continued to rub and tease myself until I was fairly certain that he was fully erect. Then I got another idea. My vibrator was in box on the ledge on top of the headboard, just behind my head. Carefully I reached up and retrieved it. I crawled down the bed and turned and sat cross-legged, facing him. I spread his legs and scooted my bottom up towards him, with my legs over the tops of his. When my pussy was a foot from his penis, I lay back. My head was slightly propped by a blanket, and as looked toward him I could see him start stroking his penis. From my angle, his penis appeared to rise from my pubic mound. His rhythm was slow and methodical, his grip tight. The tip of his penis would grow an inch or two above his hand on the downward stroke, and then disappear back into his hand on the upstroke. 

"Don't come until I tell you it's okay." The words escaped my lips before I knew I had said them. And then I was glad I said them. This was my fantasy, not his. I was the one who had given him his erection. He owed me the courtesy. 

I lifted my knees and spread my legs wide before his eyes. My pussy felt open and free, yet moist, warm and receptive. I didn't feel any insecurity. How could I, knowing that it was the sight of me that aroused him? I began to massage my clitoris with my left hand while I held the vibrator in my right hand, against my thigh. I wanted him to look at the warm place between my legs and desire me. 

"Do you like my pussy?" 


A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 01



"Oh God, yes. It's beautiful," he whispered.

"Just watch," I said again.

I brought the tip of the vibrator closer to its mark. With a free finger I spun the knob at the base of the vibrator and it started to hum. Like a pro, I thought, and I smiled. Holding it from the base like a wand, and with my left hand still caressing my clitoris, I pushed the tip of the vibrator against the entrance of my vagina. I let it slip into me an inch or more, slowly, teasingly, and then I pulled it out. I ran the tip down just short of my anus and held it there and allowed the vibration to sink into me. I ran it up the length of my swelling twat, dipping it at my vaginal opening briefly to lubricate it. Finally, it came to rest firmly against my clitoris. 

Again I spread my folds wide with the fingers of my left hand. My clit felt swollen, and I suspected the tip of it was purple and pointed. Now I could feel the walls of my vagina pulsing with heat, and undulating with the growl of the toy. I looked at him, and he was stroking himself more vigorously, holding his penis away from him as if he were trying to point it into my vagina. I pressed the tip of the vibrator hard onto my clit, and then I allowed the toy to slip back down to my entrance. I stroked my clit more vigorously, and I pushed the vibrator firmly into my vagina. With deliberation I worked the toy into me, in and out, in and out. He was panting now, and this released me. My pussy began to ache. My eyes closed and my neck arched. 

We went on like this for quite some time, just the sound of our breathing and the faint slurping of the vibrator going in and out. My pussy radiated with warmth. 

"Let me fuck you," he pleaded.

I shuddered with a spasm that must have been a small orgasm, but I didn't want him inside me. 

"Don't come. Not yet, Rudy."

"Please, oh God, please."

I shuddered again, and clasped my clitoris between my fingers, and a warmth came over the whole central part of my body. It tingled up my spine. My juices ran to my anus. My back arched, and I felt as if my pussy was going to swallow the vibrator whole. His panting was louder, erratic. I heard myself panting. I groaned. For just a moment, I felt like I had lost consciousness. All there was in the universe was me and the sweet tingling sensation of the moment. 

I recovered. I went faster with the vibrator now, not for me, but for him, to drive him crazy. The warmth and tingling was subsiding within me, but I pretended it was strengthening. 

"Oh God," I screamed, and now I watched him. He was hunched over himself, as if in pain, and his stroke was furious. His teeth were clenched. His forehead beaded with sweat. I was doing this to him – my body, my sexuality. I plunged the vibrator into me with as much force as I could bear.

"Please, Annie, please let me fuck you," he cried.

"Not yet." 

I paused to prolong his agony. The head of his penis was purple. His eyes were fixed on my sopping pussy. The vibrator seemed too small for me now. I decided to be kind. 

"Come for me now, Rudy. I want to watch you come!"

I was watching his cock. No sooner had the final word left my lips, and I heard an audible spurt. "Oh fuck," he grunted. 

I dropped the vibrator and leaned up on my elbows to get a better look. His first effort spurted into the air landed as a hot, wet dollop on my thigh. A second, smaller spurt caught less air, and then a flow of come bubbled from the head of his penis and flowed down over his fingers. And then, like an after shock, yet another stream came forth, soaking his hand and running on to his scrotum.

I couldn't help myself, and I laughed. He looked so pathetic and little, hunched over himself in a sticky pool of his own semen. He looked sweet and vulnerable, too. I wanted to pet his head, and tell him I was sorry for making him do that, sorry that I caused such emotions within him. I felt powerful, and yet loving and nurturing. I like to think that what I felt was a new sense of myself as a sexual, sensual, desirable woman. It felt great.

"That was funny?" he said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry. You were beautiful," I said, in all earnestness. "Holy shit." He bellowed forth a long sigh as he leaned back against the headboard and looked up at the ceiling. He was still gripping his now flagging member as if he might lose it if he let go. 

"Here," I offered, "I'll get you some Kleenex."

Rudy indulged my masturbation fantasies and I indulged his appetite for uneventful, slow-moving, dope-clouded lovemaking until our interest in each other tailed off. When school year came to a close, he disappeared. My hunger for passion had only been sparked, however. The summer, my summer in the flesh, was just beginning...



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 02



This is a fifteen chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that comes before it. It is best read in order.

******

I had taking fewer hours during spring term of my senior year with the idea that I would finish up with two easy classes in the summer session. I was set to start school in California the first week of September, and summer classes were over the second week in July, so the timing worked out well for me. The house I was living in was going to be closed for the summer, and my housemates, Bridgett and Kathy, were going home. I needed a new place for the summer term, and I answered an ad for a room on the kiosk in front of the student union.

The two guys who showed me the house, Tom and Charlie, also lived there during the regular school year. It was another coed house with six private rooms on two stories. The house was wooden and painted white with deep blue shutters and trim. They referred to it as the Blues House (without any explanation other than the color of the trim work) and told me that during the fall and winter terms, there were twelve people in the house, two to a room, usually six men and six women. It had separate girls’ and boys’ bathrooms, but only one shower room with a reversible sign on the door – “Girls” on one side and “Boys” on the other. That was still better than the first house I lived in, where even the bathroom operated that way. I love men, but I can’t stand sharing a bathroom with them. The kitchen area was pretty nice, and the room was dirt-cheap. I liked it.

Most of all, though, I liked Tom and Charlie. They were about as amiable and funny as any guys I had met in college, and I knew that I liked them after spending only twenty minutes with them. Tom was the cute one. He had curly, musty blond hair and the most infectious smile I had ever come across. He was tall, and very healthy without being too muscular. Charlie, on the other hand, was kind of a nerd. He had tortoise shell glasses and straight brown hair that he obviously combed a lot. He was even taller than Tom, but lanky and angular. He was pleasant looking, however, with dark, mischievous eyes. Tom was confident and talkative. Charlie was quiet and reserved, but he was definitely not nervous or intimidated. He was the kind of person that could intimidate you by being quiet and playing it close to the vest, like he knew something about your situation that you didn’t. They made for an interesting pair.

They were excited about the opportunity to rent a room to me because they had a student named Amy who also wanted to rent a room there, but said she wouldn’t unless they found another woman for a housemate. I told them that if Amy would rent a room, so would I, and they called me that afternoon to say we had a deal.

Amy took the room at the other end of the hall from me on the second floor. Amy was a gregarious sort, full of energy and laughter. She was also very touchy-feely. She hugged me the first time we met, and I could tell she liked to keep the guys on their toes, always quick to pat a head or put a hand on a shoulder. She was short and slim, and had straight auburn hair that she curled in just above her shoulders. Her eyes were brown and always moist and clear. She liked to wear too-tight blue jeans that showed off her greatest asset, a perfectly shaped, tight little ass. Her boobs were serviceable, but not large, and she looked good in the tight knit halter-tops and clingy blouses she liked to wear. From the first time I met her, I could tell she was very confident in her sexuality, and I liked that about her. 

The men lived on the first floor. In addition to Charlie and Tom, there was Mike. He was a graduate-engineering student. He was shorter than the Charlie or Tom, and shorter than me for that matter, but he had a thick chest and back, a firm, narrow waist, and muscular thighs that lent him a sense of sturdiness. From the faint freckles on his face, you could tell his hair had been red when he was a child, but it was brown now. He was very pleasant to talk to, but he seemed somewhat nervous around Amy and me.

The first few weeks of the summer were interesting. Amy latched on to Charlie as if that had been her plan from day one. Charlie seemed extremely flattered and grateful, and played along. Mike pretty much kept to himself. He was the only one in the house that didn’t get high, but it didn’t seem to bother him when we smoked. He never left the room if someone lit up, and his polite attitude never changed, he simply didn’t partake. He was probably just a shy type by nature. Then there was Tom and me.

I felt like Tom and I really hit it off, but we were both very slow to do anything more than chat and laugh at each other’s stories. I assumed he wasn’t presently dating anyone because I hadn’t yet seen another woman around, but I wasn’t certain. Tom was relaxed, and yet very straightforward and opinionated. He could make you feel at ease even as he was making fun of you, and I admired that about him. But I always felt a sexual tension around him that I didn’t feel with the others. I guess I felt left out and disappointed after I had been in the house for two weeks he still hadn’t flirted with me. He became a regular subject in my masturbatory fantasies, and as the tension built, I thought I was going to have to be the one to breakdown and make the first move. Of course, I like to think our first sexual encounter was mutually instigated. In any event, it was nothing like I expected, and certainly nothing like anything I had ever fantasized about.

On my second Saturday night in the house, everyone but Tom and me had gone home for the weekend. The campus was dead, so we were both at the Blues House that night with nothing to do and nowhere to go. We were listening to music in the living room. The room had a bay window with a seat that opened up onto a small backyard with a wooden fence and tall, crowded maple trees that made it very green and very secluded. (When the sun was high, I could lay out in my skimpiest bikini, something I wouldn’t have done without that privacy.) To the left of the window was a homemade, pine bar that sat in a small alcove. There was a small refrigerator behind the bar, and two wooden stools in front of it. Then there was a short hallway that led to the foyer. Against the wall opposite to the window was an oversized couch that had a denim fabric slip cover, and next to that was a reupholstered, old-fashioned wingback chair. Between the couch and the chair was an antique, full-length mirror that could swivel on its base and be tilted up and down from the sides. On the wall to the right of the window was a floor to ceiling bookshelf crammed with stereo equipment, records, and outdated textbooks. The room had a vague but remarkably not unpleasant odor of marijuana and stale beer. It was a comfortable room to be in despite its humble accoutrements.  The side windows on the bay were open, and between songs I could hear a patter of light rain. The air was wet and very warm. We were drinking beer and talking. I was very relaxed. He did most the talking, but he was not talking about himself. We talked about music and families and careers and school. I liked listening to his voice. It was very calming. 

He was barefoot in blue jeans and a khaki colored t-shirt. He liked to sit in the window seat with his back against a side beam, both legs out straight in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and that’s how I remember him that night. I was wearing my white bikini top under a sheer, white cotton blouse, which was tucked in to a pair of yellow denim short shorts. I wore those shorts precisely because they brought attention to my hips and fanny, something I wouldn’t have dreamed of doing only a few years earlier. I was sitting on a barstool when the topic of discussion turned to working out. I mentioned how diligently I was trying to maintain a regular workout schedule.

“Speaking of which, would you like another beer?” I asked. I stood up to get myself one.

“Please.”

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, feeling suddenly flirtatious. I turned my back to him and surprised myself as I grabbed the cheeks of my ass with both hands and squeezed. “I am not doing myself any favors by growing this thing any larger.” Where the hell did that come from, I thought. I felt like I should have been embarrassed, but I wasn’t. I stepped behind the bar to fetch the beers. 

“That’s why I am trying to stick to that schedule;” I continued, “ I need to trim down.”

As I walked over to the window to hand him a beer, he looked directly into my eyes and the smile on his face he broke into laughter. 

“What?” I asked sincerely.

“I probably shouldn’t say this.” He looked down and shook his head.

“What?” I held out his beer, but he didn’t take it. Instead, he looked again into my eyes, still smiling.

“Well, if I was your boyfriend, or something…” he took the beer and looked away again.  “Yeah.” I prodded him on.

“Well,” he looked back at me, “I would have to get down on my hands and knees right now and beg you, plead with you, not to do anything to a…” he took my beer out of my hand and opened it for me, “change yourself in that department.”

Bingo! That was it. I all but dragged it out of him, and yet I still fell skirt-over-my-head in love. I just stood there, staring at him, fumbling to retrieve my beer. 

“I really mean that,” he said. Go on, go on, I thought. “There is nothing worse than a beautiful women with a skinny butt. You…You um… look perfect, Annie. Absolutely terrific.” 

I was going to attack him, thrust his head into my bosom and suffocate him with gratitude. Instead I returned to my barstool, cognizant now that his eyes would be glued to my ass.

“You just being kind.” No you’re not, I thought.

The conversation drifted around for a while. He put on a Bob Marley album and asked me if I wanted a joint. I declined. I was feeling a little to good to risk it. He refrained, too. We had another beer, and talked some more, quietly, peacefully, and then he did the most wonderful thing.

“Man, this rain, it sure makes it humid.” He stood up in front of the window and took off his shirt. He was gorgeous. His muscles were lean and long, and his chest was wider and more muscular than I had imagined it. 

“Do you want another beer?” he asked.

“No thanks,” I said, clearing my throat. 

He started to walk towards me, and for an instant I thought he was coming to kiss me, and I was scared. And then I realized he was coming for a beer, and I was disappointed. I had one second to think – one chance to make something happen, or let it go. I put my hand up to his chest as he walked by me. He stopped. I wasn’t certain what I was doing, or what I was going to do. My hand came to rest in the middle of his chest. I could feel the tiny curls of his chest hair against my palm. I wanted to feel his skin. I gently pushed my hand up his chest and stopped at the base of his collarbone. He put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me up from my barstool. He pulled me against him, and with my other hand I stroked his back. I put my chin against his collarbone, next to my hand, and I could smell his smell. He smelled like fresh cut wood, a slight hint of leather. There was no cologne in it. He smelled like a man should smell. I breathed him in. He leaned his head back slightly, and I looked up at him. He kissed me on the cheek ever so delicately and then next to my mouth. My mouth parted, and he pressed his lips against mine, gently, wet and soft, and then drew away. My mouth followed his, and with that I am sure he knew I belonged to him.

His hands ran up and down my back, slowly, lingering at the small of my back. I kissed him now. I ran my tongue along his lips to let him know it was all right. He cupped my buns and squeezed firmly.

“That’s nice,” he whispered. 

He ran his hands up my back, firmly this time, pulling my blouse out of my shorts. I was feeling bolder. I ran my hand down from his chest, over his firm stomach, and let my fingers brush gently and briefly below the waistline of his jeans. We kissed more firmly. His tongue danced with mine in my mouth. He tasted of warm beer and salt. The taste made me hunger for more.  “Wait a second,” I said softly, and I gently pushed him a step away from me. I unbuttoned my blouse. 

“It is getting hot in here.” I smiled.  

I tried to be casual, slow and sexy as I undid those buttons, but my heart started to race. I let my blouse drop to the floor. I reached back, and untied the bow to my bikini top. He stepped forward and placed his hands on my stomach, and my flesh yielded. His hands ran up under my breasts. He cupped them, as if testing their buoyancy, and then he rubbed my nipples with the palms of his hands, expertly, smoothly, till my nipples hardened and I could feel the heat of blood rushing to my vagina. He lifted his hands up to the straps on my shoulders and pushed them out to the side. My top slipped off to the floor. 

He pulled me against him, and my breasts pressed against his ribs. I could feel his erection through his jeans against my lower abdomen. He rubbed my back and kissed my forehead. The tips of his fingers slid into my shorts. He ran his fingers along the elastic waistband of my panties. I had the urge to unbutton his jeans, but I resisted, and then I thought why? Why should I resist? Because he would think I was a slut? Who cares what he thinks? I reached my hands into the front of his jeans and unbuttoned them. I took one hand away and ran it down over his bulge. I wanted to squeeze it. I did. I cupped my hand under where his testicles were taught against his jeans and pressed in. He reached for the button of my shorts and I pulled his hands away.

“Not yet,” I whispered. I had no idea what I had in mind when I said it.

I reached back for his fly, his bulge. I stroked it. I ran my fingers up his fly and slowly unzipped it. He cupped my breasts and kissed me. I slid my hands against his hips and pushed his pants and briefs down. They fell to the floor and he kicked them away. I took the slightest step back and reached for his erection with both hands. I ran one hand down his penis and cupped his testicles. The skin of his scrotum was loose and soft and warm and his balls swung freely. With my other hand I stoked his penis slowly, firmly, moving the skin up and down against the hard length of his shaft. He was not large. His penis fit comfortably in my hand with just the head exposed at the top. But I do have large hands, and his penis felt thick and powerful. It throbbed as I stroked it. He groaned. I knew what he wanted, even if he didn’t, and I wanted to give it to him. I gripped his erection firmly and pushed him back. He looked surprised. I steered him backwards, working his penis like a tiller. I laughed. 

“What the…”

“Shhh.…” I pushed him back up against the center of the window seat. I pushed down on his penis and he sat down. I let go of him and stepped back. A reggae album thumped away in the background, not Marley any longer, but still slow and languorous, and I could feel the dull thunder of bass move up from the floor through me. I lifted up my hair with my hands and pinned it against the back of my head. I could see my reflection in the glass, a faint flesh-toned glow against the rain-streaked window. My breasts stood out, untanned, full and soft, my nipples pointed upwards. Damn, I am sexy, I thought. 

I closed my eyes and began to sway with the bass. I knew what he wanted to see, but I was going to make him wait, make him ache. I undulated sinuously, my breasts rolled slowly from side to side. For one second I was concerned – is this silly? But then I didn’t care. I felt too good. I closed my eyes tighter and ran my hands down over my breasts, my belly. Side to side, I rocked my hips to the beat. I opened my eyes. Tom was sitting dutifully, slightly leaned back, hands pressed flat against the window seat at his sides, his penis pointing straight up. I unbuttoned the top button of my shorts.

“Oh, now this is getting interesting,” he groaned.

I took one step towards him and he reached out to me with a hand, just as I had wanted. I took his hand and carefully placed it on his penis.

“Go ahead, watch me,” I whispered in a hushed, scratchy voice I hardly recognized. 

I stepped back again. I felt awkward for a moment. What was I doing? What was I going to do next? I caught myself looking at him, wondering when he would begin to stroke himself, and felt myself loosing momentum. I desperately didn’t want that to happen. I closed my eyes again. Again my hips rocked with the music, with no effort on my part this time. I wanted to show him my ass, my big, smooth, creamy-white, glorious ass. I wanted him to see the thing he had so politely admired before. I wanted him to want me. I pulled on the placket of my shorts and the buttons unhooked and gave way, revealing my white cotton panties. I could feel the moistness between my legs, and I hoped my panties were visibly wet. I pushed down at the hips of my shorts and they fell to the floor. I stepped out of them, in front of them, and slid them away with my foot. I allowed the lids on my eyes the smallest slit, and I could see he was gripping himself firmly now, staring at my panties. I swayed. I ran my hand over my panties, over my pubic mound and down between my legs. I was moist. Again the warm blood swelled into my vagina. I pulled down on the lacy waistband until my velvety pubic hair was freed for his eyes. He began to lean forward and I stepped back. 

Now slowly I turned my back to him. My hips went from rocking to gyrating. I arched my back so that my soft, fleshy ass protruded outward and upward.

“What do you think now?” I heard myself say.

“Oh, you hurt me, baby. You’re a goddess.” 

Yes. That was what I wanted to hear. That was what I wanted to feel like – a goddess – a naked goddess in a warm, wet forest. The sound of the rain seemed to fill my head. With my hands on my hips, I arched and unarched my back, and slowly I pushed my hands down, rolling my panties down until the slit of my buns began to show.

Rhythmically I rocked. I let my weight go from one foot to another, pushing my hip out to the side as I did, and slowly my panties descended. Half way and I stopped. I looked over my shoulder. My ass looked round and bright in the glass, peeking out as it was, full and beautiful. I backed closer to him. He leaned forward. I could feel his breath on the small of my back, then lower. His lips caressed first one cheek, then the other. I arched my back, pressing my flesh against his face. He moaned, and the hum vibrated within me. His tongue traced my crease, lower, coming to rest against my panties. He reached for my panties with his hands.

“Uh uh,” I mumbled, “hands to yourself.” 

I rolled down my panties another inch. His tongue followed, flicking the flesh that closed over my anus. I bent forward and as I did, I revealed all of myself to him. I pulled my panties to my ankles, stepped out with one foot and spread my legs two feet apart. I backed into him, bent at the waist, my damp, aching pinkness exposed to him. His tongue went down one side of my swollen labia and up the other. I reached between my legs and stroked my clitoris. He grabbed me by the hips with his hands, and before I could protest, he planted his mouth firmly on the center of my left buttocks and suckled it, drawing it into his mouth as if it was a breast. Then the same on the other side. Then his mouth cupped over the area around my anus and he sucked in. I pinched my butt cheeks together and pushed against his lips. Though I had never experienced the feeling before, I wanted so badly to spread my cheeks and feel the flit of his tongue against my anus. His tongue pressed against the crease of my cheeks and I yielded. 




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 02



I unclenched my muscles. He sucked in again and his tongue planted itself firmly against my bumhole. I was startled by the sweetness of the sensation. My pussy felt too wet. I was freshly showered, but I worried about this new development. My flesh wanted to open wide and accept his tongue, but I clenched, afraid. He pulled my hips toward him again, and his tongue was firm, the tip of it pressed against my bumhole again. He pried at it. I couldn’t stand it. I relaxed against my will and his tongue slid into me, first a half-inch, then a full inch. My warm, sensuous center nearly exploded in tingling excitement. I feared my pussy was about to let loose with an embarrassing, slurping roar. His tongue flitted in, then out, then around, back in. I was dizzy. I had to place both hands on my knees. He removed his right hand from my hip and reached around in front of me, cupping my pussy, pressing the bone of his middle finger against my clit. I rocked back and forth uncontrollably. He sucked at my anus as I imagined one might suck on a pussy to draw out the clit.

“Oh, good Lord.” I heard my voice. “Oh God almighty.” 

I hadn’t expected this. I was lost. This was not the fantasy I was envisioning. I couldn’t control myself. All I wanted was to feel his hot tongue inside of me. I would do anything for him. 

“Please. dammit, please!” I pleaded.

His tongue went deep into me now, and as he sucked he seemed to be pulling me deeper into his mouth. His hand clenched my pussy, but he couldn’t squeeze hard enough. I was scared my asshole was going to open like a chasm and his whole face would be lost inside of me. I had to stand up. I was going to faint. Instead I grabbed his hand, the one between my legs, and jerked it back and forth violently. I bucked like a humping dog. I had never been so embarrassed in my life. How could I ever look at this man again? I didn’t care. Just one more moment was all I wanted in the world. I bucked against his tongue. I was soaking wet.  I came with a ferocity that shook me, first in shivers, then convulsively. I was about to collapse. I lurched backwards. His tongue slipped away.

Then I could feel his nose press into me as he licked and teased my tingling twat with his darting tongue. His face was buried between my legs, and he was nuzzling me. I was still gripping his hand and I squeezed it and he pressed it firmly against my clit. In the afterglow of my orgasm I came again, mildly, and then I slid down into his lap, bare-assed, embarrassed, exhausted, confused, and wholly spent.

His hard cock pressed up against the crack of my ass. He reached up for my breasts and pulled me back against his chest.

“Where am I?” I asked only half facetiously. I was perspiring.

“Butt-muncher’s heaven.” 

We both laughed. Then we were still for an awkward moment. 

“Whew!” he sighed, “I need a beer.” 

He kissed my back and gently pushed me up and went behind the bar. I started to sit back down on the window seat, thought better of it, and sat down on the floor with my back against the window seat. Steadier, I thought. My anus tingled. 

Tom took a long drink from the bottle, head tilted back, profile to me. His penis stuck straight out in front of him, but his erection was waning. I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted to say something, but all I could think of was thank you. I kept it to myself.

“Last one,” Tom said as he walked over and handed me the beer. 

The bottle was cold and wet. I took a long sip myself, and handed it back to him. As he took it away from me, I reached out and grabbed his penis, my hand still cold from the beer.

“Yowser!” He laughed.

I stroked him gently, and my hand warmed immediately. 

“You know, that was really something,” I said, still not knowing what to say. His cock got harder, arching up, pulling my hand along with it.

“House specialty.” 

I wondered if he was telling the truth, how often he had done that. No way, not too often, I thought. There’d be women lined up at the door. And then I thought maybe it was just me. I was so grateful to him that I lost track of where I had started, and where I had wanted to go. Oh, that’s right, I wanted him to worship my ass. Holy cow, I thought; mission accomplished there. I smiled. 

“So, you like to be watched?”  His voice caught me by surprise. No, I thought – apparently I like to have my ass sucked and tongued!

“I like a lot of things.” What the hell did I mean by that? 

“You have a great body. It’s a nice thing to watch.” 

So there we were, him standing beside me, drinking his beer, me sitting on the floor, stroking his cock. 

“Hey, if we are going to a… you know, do we need some birth control?” he asked.

“Who says we are going to fuck?” I meant it to sound sexy and playful, but I sounded kind of pissy. Damn. I got up on my knees, using his cock to steady myself.

“Just asking.”

“Not to worry. I’m safe.” I was on the pill. It was gentlemanly of him to ask though – another first. 

I put my face up to his penis and studied it while I stroked him. I had only really looked at a few cocks before in any great degree of detail. I had always thought of them as rather silly, unpleasant little things, despite their obvious functionality. But this time, it seemed different. Perhaps I was having a change of attitude. Tom’s penis, even in retrospect, was nothing remarkable. But I found myself marveling at it. It was smoother than most, less hair, and more symmetrical. The skin color was light and creamy. In other words, it wasn’t bent, or dark and purplely, or veiny, like some I had (and have) seen. 

I took it into my mouth. I had never really liked giving head, but I was so grateful, I really wanted to do him the favor. It made the moment seem less awkward for me, for whatever reason. I sucked on him lovingly, carefully. I wanted to explore the length of him with my mouth. I reached around behind his leg, then between his legs, and cupped his balls. I pulled him tighter against me. He placed a hand on my head, gently. The music stopped, and the only sounds in the room were the soft static of the rain and the wet sounds of my mouth sliding up and down on his handsome cock. It stiffened even more and started to pulse. 

“Whew. Mmmm, that feels good.” He paused, and I went at him with a little more gusto. 

Some time went by. I wondered if he wanted to fuck. I was quite aware that that would be okay by me. Then he spoke.

“Oh, wait.” He started to pull away from me and I stopped, but with his dick still halfway in my mouth. “Hey, um, you wanna try something kind of different?” 

This wasn’t what I expected him to say. My mouth was full, and I couldn’t nod, at least not if I wanted to be understood. I came up for air.

“Like what?”

He went behind the bar and pulled a plastic squeeze bottle of baby oil from a shelf where we kept the communal sun care products. He came back and stood in front of me and squeezed a bit of oil into the cup of his hand. He rubbed his hands together, and then rubbed his genitals. He took some more oil and began rubbing his stomach and chest.

“Here, try some.” He held out the bottle to squeeze some in my hand.

“What do I do?” I was game, but I really didn’t have any idea what to do.

“Just rub it on. Enjoy it. It’ll feel great when we, uh… get together.”

I stood up facing him and took a liberal helping into both hands. I started with my tummy and my sides. The oil was warm, and it glided on.  “Get the front, and then we can kind of help each other with our backs.” 

Tom had stopped at his neck, and just a short ways down onto his thighs, so I followed his lead. He squirted some more into his hands, and then mine, and set the bottle on the window seat. We pressed against each other, and he rubbed my back, and I rubbed it into his back. 

Our bodies were slippery, and there was no friction as our chests rubbed together. He worked the oil into my shoulders and arms, and I followed suit with him. We parted for a moment, and he stroked my chest and ran his other hand between my legs, and I had to raise my eyebrows and sigh. I took his oiled cock into my hand and it felt wonderfully slick and receptive to my touch. He took some more oil and then pulled me back against him, and began caressing and massaging the oil into my buns. I kept my hand on his cock as it was pressed between us, and I was able to continue to stroke it despite the pressure. We kissed. He slid down slightly and began to slip a hand between my buns. He parted me with both hands, and worked the oil into my crack with his fingertips. He pressed his oily fingers against my bumhole, and I shivered with tingles. He kneaded and massaged the area. Somehow he managed to lift the oil off the window seat again and get more onto his hands. He pressed the oil into my ass with the flat of his hand, and then I felt a finger press firmly against my anus, and slip in ever so slightly. It felt naughty, and dirty, and sexy, and strange, and I loved it. 

“Ohh…” I heard myself moan uncontrollably.

“You like that?” 

“Be careful,” was my coy but earnest plea.

As he massaged and tickled and toyed with my anus, we rubbed our bodies together as if we were intentionally but unsuccessful trying to build up friction. His penis kept slipping out of my hand, and every time I would grab it, he would moan with delight. Then he pulled away from me, and I felt for an instant like I was angry with him for taking his hand away from my asshole.

“C’mon.” He took me by the hand. Next thing I knew, we were meandering through the house, naked and oily. First the foyer, through the kitchen, and then he started out the back door.

“Outside?” I tried to stop, but his grip was firm, and he didn’t slow with me.

“C’mon. Trust me,” he said.

I did.



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 03



This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order.

*****

And we hurried into the backyard, naked and oily, my hand in his. 

He walked me on to the grass. The rain was less than a drizzle, but more than a mist. The air was warm. There was no breeze. The grass tickled my toes. He stopped and turned towards me, then pressed up against me. His cock felt hot against my bellybutton. He kissed me, and that familiar taste of beer and salt was diminished and sweetened by the fragrance of the oil. I thought of his tongue inside of my bumhole before, then I let it go. We kissed more passionately than we had before. We were wet, but warm, our skin was oily and glistening in the iridescent pale light from the bay window. He ran his hands over my ass, kneading it, pulling the cheeks apart, and then pressing them together. I grabbed his ass and squeezed it in a similar fashion. His muscles were firm, yet his flesh was soft and giving. He kissed my neck, my collarbone, my chest, my breast, my nipples, tasting the oil. 

He bent down and I let go of his ass and he suckled at me, first one nipple, then the other. Again, my pussy swelled, and I noticed, for the first time in my life, that my bumhole also felt engorged with blood. He kissed my breastplate, my ribs, and dropped to his knees, hands still firmly gripping my buttocks. On he went – my bellybutton, my abdomen, my pubic mound. I spread my legs just enough, but he moved his lips to my thighs, his tongue to my inner thighs, then back to my mound. My hands were on his head, and I wanted to thrust his face into my pussy, but I waited. 

His tongue darted about, that tongue that I was beginning to feel very fond of. Then ever so gently I felt the tip of his tongue begin its search for my clit. I turned my face to the sky and opened my eyes wide. The leaves of the trees sparkled with wetness. I could see millions of misty pinpoints of rain. Everything was wet – the leaves, the grass, the ground. The world was wet and warm and soft and seemed oily and vulnerable, like me.

His tongue found its mark. I heard myself groan. His fingertips pressed strongly into my ass. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I slid my hands between his face and my mound and I spread my pussy before his mouth, pulling up to expose my clitoris, to make it accessible. He cupped his mouth around it and suckled it, flicking it with his tongue, then pressing his tongue against me hard. He sucked my clit deep into his mouth and seemed to stroke it against the roof of his mouth. At least I think that’s what he was doing, It was a new sensation, and I liked it, and I pressed hard into his mouth, closing my eyes. 

Everything seemed wet and juicy with oil. It was as if my pussy encompassed all that was around us, secreting the rain, soaking the earth, soaking us. My hips moved against his mouth. Suck harder, I thought, and he did. My clit felt huge, hot, hardened, electric. He kept kneading and spreading my sopping wet cheeks, his slippery fingertips now tugging at the cusp of my, pliant bumhole. Yes, please, yes, please, I crowed in my mind – and he did. First the finger from one hand, an inch, no more, then a finger from the other hand, pressing into me, carefully, gently. Rainwater tricked down from the small of my back and I could feel it enter me. As he pressed into my behind gently, he sucked at the front of me voraciously. His fingers slid into my asshole just past the second knuckles, teasing and gyrating, slowly, leisurely, wet, warm. 

I was bending at the knees, legs a little wider, squatting ever so slightly to give him better access to all that exists between my legs. I had to let go of my pussy to keep my balance, and I grabbed his head and pressed him into me. The warmth inside me turned to heat. I felt like steam was billowing off of me. My knees were going to give way. I shuddered in pre-orgasmic delight.

His tongue lapped at my pussy, then worked its way up over my mound. No, please, no. But he was coming up. His fingers were still planted in me, lolling about in an excruciatingly wonderful way. He stood up, his mouth stopped to purse and tease my nipples. Up he came, mouth to mouth. He pulled me against him, and I reached between us and slid my rain and oil-drenched hand onto his swollen cock. My hand slipped up and down on him. The rain came down harder now, wetter yet.

“Let me inside you,” he whispered pleadingly into my ear. I wasn’t sure what he meant, what he wanted me to do, but I would do anything.

“Yes,” I said, and “yes,” again to be sure he heard me. Anything. Dare I say it?

His fingers slipped out of me. No, I thought, please no. I had to let go of him as he moved around behind me, till my back was against his chest. His hands clung to my breasts. His penis pressed against the crack of my ass, up and down and up and down he rocked on his toes. I reached behind me and I spread my cheeks for him, rocking against him, intensifying the motion. I arched my back and leaned forward. My God, what was I doing? 

His hands were on my hips now. I felt him take one away. I closed my eyes tight. Up and down, his rod rubbed against my anus, and it felt warm and greasy and fantastically naughty. And then I felt the head of his cock push against my burning asshole, guided by his free hand, and I was terrified. What had I gotten myself into? It was too late, I thought. It felt too good, too, nothing like anything I could have ever imagined. I gave in to the moment and follow where it led. I pulled at my cheeks more purposefully. My flesh parted and the wetness filled the space between us, and slowly, carefully he entered me.

I had to put my hands on my knees. I steadied myself. All the way in he went, till I could feel his pubic hair against my ass. I gasped, and couldn’t regain my air. With both hands again on my hips, he pulled himself into me, deeper. He filled me. I felt faint.

Again I was scared. I didn’t want him to thrust. I clenched. He groaned. I relaxed. He sighed. Less scared, I clenched again, squeezing him as if to push him out of me. He leaned into me and groaned. I relaxed. 

“Oh baby,” he cried out to me. 

He reached down from my hips with both hands and pressed them against my pussy. With wet fingers, he plied it open. He pinched my clit between his thumbs, and two slippery, hot fingers, one from each hand (the same ones as before? I didn’t care) slid into my vagina. My knees were bent, and I pressed with my hands and pushed my knees out to the side, opening myself wider. I clenched and relaxed. He used his hands to press me harder against him when I clenched down. His hands relaxed when I relaxed. I clenched – he squeezed my pussy, my clit, and pushed against me. I relaxed – his hands relaxed, he pulled his fingers ever so slightly from me, and he eased the pressure pulsing inside me. 

“Like this,” I cried, “just like this.” 

Yes, this felt good. No thrusting. Just wet, throbbing fullness. My hair was dripping, matted about my face. It felt as is every pore in my body was bleeding a pungent, warm, sweet oil. I realized I couldn’t possibly be in the most attractive or feminine of positions, and I didn’t care. I was in a sexual position. I was exposed and vulnerable. I was filled with an unfamiliar heat. I clenched and relaxed with more vigor. He followed with me. The whole wet world melted away, and all there was the warmth and substance and wetness that filled me and squeezed me between my legs. The harder I clenched, the better I felt. The faster I went, the more the tingles shot up my spine.

“Oh, fuck, your ass is so beautiful.” He yelled loud enough for neighbors to hear. I didn’t care. 

“I’m going to come,” he all but shouted.

Come! Yes, please, I thought. More wetness. More fluid. Fill me with your come.

“Come inside me.” Did I say that? What was happening to me? 

We rocked more firmly. I could feel his penis throbbing, twitching. His breathing went sporadic. We lost our rhythm. Spastic, knees wobbling, he pressed as hard as he could into me. I bore down on him with all my might, clenching my teeth.

“Oh fuck!” He yelled again. And then the hot fluid oozed within me. 

We stood motionless, wet. I started again, rocking my twat against his hands. He groaned. He started to slip out of me. His hot come filled the void. His penis was smaller. My ass ached, but I was not in pain. I worried before that he would rip me if he thrust into me, but he didn’t thrust. 

Now, smaller, his come lubricating me even more, he thrust, and I quivered with the sensation. Again, and again, and again, and I marveled at the way it felt. Just as I settled into the sensation and wanted more, he slipped out of me. 

He pulled his hands away from my pussy and used them to turn me at the hips. I straightened up, and the come trickled out of me. I turned to him. He hugged me. I hugged him. His come trickled down the inside of my thigh. We kissed, and I noticed the rain was pouring down on us now. When had that started? It pelted us. My skin was hot, the oil was washing off of us. The rain began to hurt.

I whispered in his ear. “Whew wee, now that was kind of different.”

We went inside.

I hardly remember what happened for the rest of that night. I remember a much-needed shower, and sleeping together in my bed. We made love in the morning, sleepy, slow, warm, relaxing love. We had breakfast at Steve’s Diner, a short walk from the house. 

Everyone came back to the house that afternoon. For a few days I felt awkward around him, but he didn’t change at all. Time went by, it began to seem as if nothing had happened. I didn’t want him to think I was following him around like a hound dog, although part of me wanted to do just that. I kept my distance. A three days went by. I think he was purposefully tantalizing me. 

For the first time, I began to interject some anal stimulation into my masturbation fantasies, but nothing felt like what happened to me that night. Tom haunted my fantasies anyway. I couldn’t think of anything else – just long fuck sessions with him. I had finally made up my mind I was going to jump him when he surprised me in my room one night, knocking on my door with a six-pack of beer. Ha, I thought, I outlasted him.

We listened to the radio, and made love, missionary style, the way I like it, simple and straight, nice. In fact, it was great, but I won’t bore you with the details. I finally surmised that his interest in me was purely casual, sexual and platonic. No strings, no baggage, no jealousy, no rules. I felt relieved, in one sense, though part of me wanted him to follow me around like a hound dog, begging for my attention and my mercies. I accepted the challenge and convinced myself that he was just a housemate I occasionally rubbed up against naked. Nothing more. I liked that idea. I wondered what the future would hold for us.

In the month that followed Tom and I made love about twice a week. He graciously attempted to please me a few times with oral-anal sex, but I could never regain the rapture of that night in the living room and backyard. I think I learned that that sex is only as good as the passion of the moment. It’s no use trying to recreate moments in the past. Each new moment and new experience must take on its own life and power. 

As the summer progressed, there were some silly, sexual episodes around the house that didn’t amount to much. One night, on an impromptu “double date,” Amy and Charlie and Tom and I went to a club and danced to a local Ska band till the place closed. When we got back to the house, I announced I was going to take a shower. Actually, I just wanted to be first in line, but we were hot and sweaty, and more than a little drunk, and it was Amy that suggested we all take a shower together. 

We each went back to our rooms, and then we met at the shower room in robes or a towel The shower room was the size of a small bedroom, with six showerheads in all. I was nervous at first, but Amy disrobed without hesitation and started a shower. After Tom and Charlie had entered, I took off my robe and hung it on a hook. We each took a separate showerhead. I’ve had some fantasies about what might have happened from there, but once we were clean, we dried off and after an awkward moment we split up as couples. 

We went to our usual rooms that night to have our usual sex. I did, however, get a glimpse of what might have so interested Amy so interested in Charlie. Nerdy as he was, he had an amazing cock. I felt embarrassed to look at it when we were all in the shower together precisely because I really wanted to look at it. It wasn’t gigantic. Certainly not in that Harry Reams “Deep Throat” sort of way – that’s just sick-scary. No, for Charlie’s penis the right word was substantial. His cock was meaty. It hung from him thick and full, nicely proportioned. I imagined it would feel heavy in my hand, if I ever were to have it in my hand (and I would – patience). In any event, it intrigued me, and I suspected that was why Amy seemed somewhat possessive of Charlie.

As well as Amy and Charlie were getting along, I noticed that Amy flirted with Tom and Mike quite a bit. Of course, I could have been misinterpreting her intentions (I wasn’t – patience again). She was always rubbing their shoulders and touching their hands and hugging them. I concluded at the time that that’s just the way she was. She rubbed my shoulders and touched my hand and gave me hugs, too, and I didn’t think much of it. I struggled a little bit, however, with my feelings about the way she flirted with Tom. Jealousy is an ugly thing, and I tried to reason my way out of those feelings. I had no reason to be jealous, both because I was sure there was no way she had anything going on with Tom (I couldn’t help but think of her as Charlie’s girl), and because I had no claim on Tom whatsoever (I kept telling myself this). Deep down, though, I know that it is very difficult to share yourself sexually with someone (especially with the reckless abandon I shared with Tom) and not feel some kind of emotional investment and attachment. I really liked him. The funny thing is that if he had treated me any differently, like he was invested in or attached to me, I wouldn’t have liked him nearly as much. It was the casualness of or relationship that turned me on. It was just about the sex, and for that time in my life that was just fine by me. I was going to California very soon to start a new life, and I thought this was a great way to ring out my old life. 

The semester wound down. My last final exam was scheduled for Friday, July 20. That Saturday I’d kick back, pack up, and then on Sunday I’d say my good byes and drive home. The following Tuesday I’d say good bye to my folks, get into my crappy, beat up 1972 Chevelle, and say goodbye to my Midwestern world. I tried to stay calm as July rolled on, let each day go by as it would, but inside of me I wanted to scream with excitement. I was nervous, but in a good way – a great way.

Friday the 13th of July was my last day of classes. I thought that was appropriate. I woke up to a muggy room that morning. It had been a relatively hot summer, but it felt particularly hot and humid. By the time I left the house for my 10:00am class it was already 80 degrees. 

Amy was loading a few things into her car in the driveway when I stepped out, and I was a little early so we chatted. She casually mentioned to me that she was going to meet her boyfriend at a resort up north. A boyfriend? No “boyfriend” had ever visited her at the house, at least not while I was there. I thought of all those nights I could hear her whopping it up with Charlie in her room. I would be in the ladies’ bathroom brushing my teeth or letting out my hair, and I would hear her moaning, or calling out a command or two that I couldn’t quite make out through the wall. A boyfriend? – well good for her, I thought. She said she would be back on Sunday, and we said goodbye and I went off to class.

I was very excited when I got back to the house early that afternoon. My classes were finally over, and the exams I had left were going to be easy: Business Psychology on Wednesday and Modern Fiction that Friday. Piece of cake. I really didn’t even have to study. D minuses or better, and I was through (I ended up with Bs, in case you were curious). 

I wanted to talk to someone, but no one was at the house. Mike had already left for the weekend the day before. Tom and Charlie had said they would be around that weekend, but they were nowhere to be found. I put on my bikini, opened the windows in the living room, put on the radio. I stopped at the bar and rubbed some tanning oil into my skin. The oil was fragrant and familiar of summer. I thought of the baby oil, and looked at the bottle and smiled. I grabbed a beer from the refrigerator as I went through the kitchen and went out back to stretch out on the chaise.

It was gloriously hot. The air was thick and muggy. The sun massaged my muscles with heat, and the humidity pulled the sweat from my pores. After an hour, and a second beer, I was feeling lightheaded and distant. I was almost in a dream. I tried thinking about Tom, and sex, but then my thoughts turned to Charlie instead. 

Poor Charlie. I wondered if he knew about Amy’s boyfriend. Certainly, Amy didn’t care if he knew, or she wouldn’t have told me. Not that I would say anything – I wouldn’t, but she couldn’t be certain of that. Maybe he knew. Who cares, really? 

In my minds eye I saw Charlie in that shower, wet and tall, skin glistening in the dull florescent light. I was there too, naked and wet, but it was just the two of us. I was admiring his penis again, this time without the shame or fear of being caught looking. (When did I become such an admirer of penises?) His penis was a beautiful thing to behold. As I had that night in the shower, I wanted to hold it. I reached out for it in my dream. On the chaise, in the backyard, I felt my hand slide over my oily skin and into my bikini bottoms. My skin was hot and slippery. I pressed my middle finger down into the soft crease of my pussy, and I was hotter and wetter still. It was like I had a fever. My finger burned. I shuddered ever so slightly. 

In my dream I was holding his stiffening cock in my hand, squeezing it, marveling at its heft. In the chaise I was fingering my clit, dampening my bikini bottoms with my wetness, my slippery sweat, and the humidity. Without thinking about it I brought my knees up and spread my legs wider. I heard myself sigh a moan under my breath. I rubbed my clit more vigorously, and it hardened and sensitized. What if someone sees me? The thought drifted by. I didn’t care. And then I heard something, and I did care, a lot.

“Hey, Annie, what’s up.” 

My hand shot out of my suit and my dream vanished. I sat up. It was Tom in the doorway leading to the kitchen. I was embarrassed. Then I thought why should I be, It’s just Tom? And then I thought of a reason. Oh no!

“Where’s Charlie?” I asked, and the panic I tried to suppress in my voice betrayed me.

“Beat’s me. I was working out at the Rec Center.” There was a pause. “It’s cool,” he said reassuringly, but it only refueled my embarrassment. So, he was definitely on to me. Oh well. 

“Want a beer,” he asked casually.

“No thanks,” I replied, “I’ll just fall asleep.” 

Who cares, I thought. So a guy I’ve made love two at least ten times (who’s had his dick up my ass for chrisakes) catches me giving myself a feel in the back yard. Big deal. I thought I’d try to change the subject. 

“Pretty hot, eh?” Oops.

“I’ll say,” he said slyly. 

He walked over to me. He was wearing khaki shorts and a short sleeve, white button down shirt, untucked, just a couple buttons holding it on. He should have been on the bow of sailboat. I lost my breath for a moment. 




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 03



“So, classes all through?” he asked.

“Yup. You too, I assume.”

“Me? Well yeah, but I’ve got a whole ‘nother year.” He put his hand on my head and petted me. “This should be a celebration for you. Congrats!” He was very sincere.

“Thanks.” That was sweet of him, I thought.

“So,” he squatted down so that he was at eye level with me, “you, um…” he looked around the backyard with mock furtiveness, as if to make sure we were alone, then raised is eyebrows, “you wanna celebrate?” He winked.

I had to smile. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Yeah. I know,” he said slyly again and smiled. You bastard, I thought. You cute, smug little bastard.

“Okay.” I said it demurely, teasingly, but my thought was – yes, dammit, okay. Yes, I want to fuck you right now. Wow, I thought, I am changing.

He looked in my eyes, and this time his smile bared his teeth. “Maybe you and I can go out for dinner later. Maybe Charlie can come. We’ll treat, give you a toast.”

He knew just what he was doing – toying with me. I refused to acknowledge him. He leaned forward and kissed me on my forehead, stood up and held out a hand. I took his hand and stood up. He pulled me against him. I pressed my damp, greasy skin against his clean, dry clothing. I felt gritty and dirty against his crisp, dry cleanliness, and I relished the earthiness of the feeling. We kissed softly, slowly, for a long time.

“C’mon. Let’s go somewhere and celebrate,” he whispered into my mouth.

He fucked me against the back of the door to the kitchen. We never got any further than that. He never even got his shirt off. He ripped at my suit as soon as we were in the room, and I untied both pieces and pulled them off for him in one swift motion. He yanked off his shorts and pushed my sweaty, slippery naked body back against the door. He leaned into me and I (yes, me!) anxiously reached down and angled his cock between my legs. He reached behind my thigh and pulled it up, then grabbed me behind the knee and lifted my thigh still farther up, till it pressed against my chest. I would have tipped over with the force of his strength if he hadn’t had me so firmly pinned against the door. 

He entered me, and my hot pussy yielded with absolutely no resistance. I was wet and loose, and I didn’t care because it felt great. It felt like I could have accepted two cocks. It felt like his cock was floating inside me. He pounded me against the door, and I wanted him to do it harder. He let go of my knee, and I wrapped my freed leg around him, holding it up as high as I could. He grabbed me from the bottom of my ass and lifted me up, pulling me into him, sliding my back further up the door. For a moment I was scared I was too heavy for him to hold. God Lord, I’m not that heavy, I thought, and I wrapped both legs around him and squeezed as he thrust deep into me, again and again. I bounced with his rhythm, and my back bounced against the door. We were dripping with sweat. His shirt was damp between us. I clenched his neck, my arms wrapped around him, my sweaty cheek flush against his, our hot breaths in each other’s ears. Each time my back pressed against the door, I could feel his pubic mound press into my pussy, rubbing my clit, and I screamed out something. 

Yes, fuck me, boy! Fuck me till I hurt! Is that what I really screamed? It was something silly like that. 

He went at me harder and faster, grunting like an animal with each push against me. I thought the door would give way. I didn’t care. He came inside me, deep, falling against me. I started to slide down the door. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted twice as much again, but I forgave him. He was exhausted. We held on to each other, panting and sweating. I knew my hair was dirty and stringy, and I knew the tanning oil had soiled his clothing and greased his skin. I liked the idea that I had somehow sullied him. We needed water.

“Would you like some water,” I asked with genuine concern.

I got us some water from the refrigerator. We stood there in the kitchen, me naked, him with only his crumpled, damp shirt on, handing a half gallon plastic jug full of cold water back and forth, chugging on it in turn, drinking the water like we were racehorses after a hard-fought battle.

That was at about 3:00 in the afternoon. We showered together. He got beers. We lay naked on my bed, the fan on high, trying to cool off. Last I remembered he was caressing my body, and I must have dozed off. He was gone when I opened my eyes. He had pulled the sheet over me. I lay still for a moment, pondering the strange sex dreams I had just had. It had something to do with Amy and Charlie and Tom, but it was disjointed. My radio alarm clock said it was 6:00 in the evening.

I kicked off the sheet to feel the breeze from the fan over my naked body. It was still hot. I was about to doze back off when there was a knock at the door. It was Tom. He yelled through the door.

“Annie! Charlie and I want to take you out to dinner. Our treat! Your choice.”

I graciously accepted without opening the door and told him I would be down in twenty minutes. 

It would prove to be an intriguing and memorable of an evening.



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 04



This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order. 

*****

I decided on a quick shower before my dinner with Tom and Charlie, and I remember purposefully scrubbing myself especially clean – my nice spot and my naughty spot – not knowing what the night would hold. Had I stopped to think about it at the time, I would have found that new attention to detail a little strange, but I didn't stop to think about it – good for me. After the shower I spent some time agonizing over what to wear. It had to be light. I debated for a while over a pastel blue sundress. Too cutesy, I thought. I toyed with the idea of wearing a clingy, stretch-knit spaghetti strap dress I bought on a lark. Too skimpy and tight, I thought. When I bought it, I visualized it with some kind of top or wrap. It was too hot for any cover, and I didn't feel like I had the guts to wear it all by itself. I put it on anyway, just to see what it looked like. 

It was canary yellow, and the color set off my green eyes and now amber, sun-streaked hair. My breasts looked surprisingly robust and shapely under the dress' bodice. My skin was radiant from the midday sun (and midday fun, I suppose). The freckles on my nose and shoulders stood out. I put on just a touch of makeup and brushed out my hair. 

I stood in front of the mirror again, and now I was transfixed. I didn't recognize myself. The girl in the mirror was absolutely gorgeous. She was healthy and natural, and sexy and confident. She looked so relaxed and calm. Her hair sparkled. Her eyes held a secret. Her smile grew into a laugh. I'm going to wear it, I thought. I started to get some panties, and then I thought what the hell – no panties, no panty lines, it's just one night. I put on white sandals and went downstairs.

I found Tom and Charlie in the living room. I remember the song on the radio vividly, if only because I thought it was too funny and too ironic. "Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight, those days are over, you don't have to sell your body to the night." The Police. Fuck you, Sting, I thought! I laughed.

I can't say for sure, but I believe I took Charlie's and Tom's breath away.

"Annie, you look..." Tom seemed at a loss for words.

"You look great, Annie." Charlie stood up from the couch, and then looked confused, like he wasn't used to standing up when a woman entered a room and didn't know what to do next.

"Hey, wow, um... so, do you want a beer?" Tom actually looked nervous. 

I was enjoying this. I nodded yes. 

"You really do, um... goddam, you look great, Annie." He was still staring at me, and then he shivered, remembering the beer. "Oh, just a second."

I tugged down on my dress and sat down on the window seat, crossing my legs. Charlie sat back down, but didn't take his eyes off of me. Okay, I thought, maybe this was too much. By the time Tom handed me my beer, however, they both seemed relatively back to normal. He turned down the stereo and sat down in the wingback chair.

"So where do you want to go, Annie?" Charlie asked. "Any place at all." This was sweet, I thought.

I picked The Willow Tree and the men agreed and went to change. I looked at myself in the dressing mirror. I tested my skirt to make sure it wouldn't pull up on me when I walked. I stood with my back to the mirror, checking the length of my dress, and then I did something silly. I mooned myself, and admired my sexy ass. No panties – I liked the idea more and more. I pulled my dress down and laughed – what had become of me?

After Tom and Charlie had changed, we chatted for a while in the living room. Tom wore his khaki shorts and a weathered blue polo shirt. Charlie wore navy shorts and Hawaiian shirt with a green and cream-colored floral pattern. They looked nice. At one point we stood up and clinked our beer bottles in tribute to my final undergraduate class. I told them about some details of my graduate school in California. They seemed genuinely impressed. A breeze had picked up, cooling the air from miserable to sultry. We decided to walk to dinner and I was constantly tugging at my dress, reminding myself of my scandalous, pantiless condition.

The Willow Tree was a nice place, real tablecloths, soft lights, but inexpensive. I had rarely been there for fear of being perpetually underdressed, but I knew the place was more casual than I gave it credit for. Dinner was a treat. Charlie held my chair when we sat down. Tom gave my knee an occasional squeeze under the table. I could tell our waitress was jealous. I basked in their attention.

The night air felt wonderful on the walk home. Tom offered to treat for a few drinks at a club, but I thought it would be too smoky and hot. I said I would prefer just to go home, smoke a joint, and take it easy for the rest of the night. I wondered aloud whether we had any wine, and Tom insisted on stopping at the party store on the way home for a cold bottle of Chablis. 

We got home around 11:00. The house was still hot, but we all set about opening every window we could find. It cooled off nicely. Tom poured me a large glass of wine with an ice cube in it, and we settled in to the living room to listen to some of Charlie's tapes. Charlie lit a few candles on the bar and the bookshelf, and turned off the lights. 

Charlie liked three types of music. New wave (it was really new back then – ouch!), reggae, and old swing/jazz stuff like Louis Jordan and Louis Prima. Consequently, his tapes were always eclectic, but always enjoyable. A tape of his could go from the Talking Heads to Benny Goodman to Desmond Decker without any sense of incongruity. I admired his taste in music. 

We smoked a couple joints, and my mood couldn't have been better. I poured another glass of wine and threw in a few more ice cubes. The wineglass was cold and wet in my hand, and I would sometimes touch it to the skin of my cheek or my thigh to enjoy the sensation. The wine tasted sharp and fruity against the back of my throat. I remember standing in front of the window looking into the backyard, sipping from the glass. The moon was bright, and the maple trees were bathed in a peaceful blue light. The night air brushed past me in the breezeway created by the open bay windows. I could see Tom's and Charlie's reflection in the glass. Tom spoke.

"You really were the most beautiful girl by far in the restaurant tonight." He could tell I was looking at his reflection, and he raised his beer to me. 

"Awesome," Charlie agreed. 

"You guys are just saying that," I said. To get laid, I thought. 

I put a hand down against my hip to self-consciously smooth out my dress and realized again that I wasn't wearing any panties. Suddenly, the thought made me nervous. I closed my eyes and took a breath, and then the thought excited me. My skin had that familiar, sensitive glow I had come to associate with the marijuana. The bass from the music seemed to send tingles up from the floor and out from the walls, penetrating throughout my body. 

"Thank you. Thanks for dinner. I've really enjoyed the evening," I said. I had the strange inclination to add, "so far," but I didn't. Was I in over my head? I didn't care. I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen or what was going to happen, but I wasn't going off to bed alone. Not this night, not with this fine buzz on, not with the sexual calmness I felt welling up inside me. 

I was still rubbing my hand against my hip, long after my dress was smooth. I closed my eyes again and took another deep breath. I listened to the music. "I can't get me no... satisfaction..." Devo sang out in their droll, nasal monotone. The beat was fast and hard. I was rocking back and forth, tapping my hand on my hip to the beat. Again I looked at their reflection in the glass. It was as if they were sitting amongst the blue trees, like candle-lit ghosts. They were staring at me. 

The music slowed dramatically, jazz with a melody, Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington. They could see the front and the back of me. I could see the front of me in the reflection in the glass. Over my shoulder I could also see the back of me in the antique mirror that rested between them. It was like I had purposefully picked this spot without really knowing why. The reflection from the mirror looked like a doorway to a different place where another women existed – the voluptuous goddess whose gloriously white ass I had admired earlier in the evening.

Tom came up behind me and put a hand on my tummy. He stroked me and our eyes met in the reflection. 

"I dare you to do whatever you want to do," he whispered in my ear. "You are safe with us." 

His hand pulled away and I missed its warmth. He got two beers, gave one to Charlie, and sat back down. You bastard, I thought, this was going to be my idea. 

I set down my wine. The woman in the mirror rubbed her hips with both hands. I wanted to see her ample, enticing ass again. I wanted to know if she was wearing anything under her tight, yellow dress. I swayed my hips to the music – heavy bass. The woman in the mirror swayed. I rubbed my hips more vigorously and my dress started to creep up. In the mirror, I could see the crease between her thighs and her cheeks. I bent over slightly, and I could see the faintest wisps of pubic hair between her legs. My pussy started to ache. That was the feeling I wanted. I pulled the dress up a little farther. There it was, just a peek. Slowly I pressed down on my hips, pushing my dress down, closing the curtain. I heard a moan from one of the men in the blue trees. 

"Shhh," I hushed them. 

I turned and looked into the mirror. Now I wanted to see her breasts. The men seated in front of me, between us, to either side of us, were inconsequential distractions. I ignored them. 

I shook out my hair and pulled first one arm, and then the other arm from the straps of my dress. The dress clung to me. I watched now as the woman in the mirror held her hands to her chest, tugging the elastic top of her brilliant yellow dress, slowly rolling the fabric down. I wanted to see her breasts, I wanted to free my own. The fabric reached my nipples, and I pulled the fabric out and down, exposing myself to the mirror. They were beautiful, so soft and creamy. The nipples were tight, the areolas dimpled and swollen. The dress was rolled down to my waist, her waist. The hands smoothed the tummy, caressed the breasts, stroked the nipples. I looked into her eyes, so deep and green. I wanted to see more. 

Slowly the dress descended over her ribs, then her tummy, the first glimpse of her hip. The descending dress paused at her satiny mound, caught at the widest point of her hips, accentuating them. Down farther still the dress went, to the middle of her thighs, and then the dress fell of its own accord to the floor. The goddess in the mirror stood there, perfectly still and straight, her long legs held together tightly, her hands resting on her hips, and I studied her. 

In the candlelight, her hair was the color of a waning, distant fire. Her eyes were dark and large. Her shoulders were broad, as a goddess' should be. Her breasts cried out to be petted and suckled, the nipples taught, and yet the rest of her seemed perfectly relaxed, as if her breasts had different instincts than her mind. Her tummy protruded slightly from under her belly button, and this is what she reached for first. She petted her belly, and the flesh was smooth and doughy. Her waist narrowed, then her hips rolled out wide and round. Her hands explored the area where her hipbones pressed against her flesh. The little fingers reached down for the crease between her thighs and her mound. Her pubic hair glowed like embers, forming an arrowhead that seemed to direct the onlooker to the spot were the warmth and wetness pulsed within her. Her hand stroked her ember like hair.

"Whoa, baby, I think I am going to faint." A man's voice.

"Shhh!" She closed her eyes. I closed mine.

I wanted to see her ass. I wanted to see the small of her back, the little dimples above her round, fleshy cheeks. I turned and I opened my eyes, and again I could see her there in the mirror from the reflection in the window. Her fiery hair hung to the middle of her back. I pulled my hair in front of me, and now I could see the strong length of her back. Her muscles were visible as she moved her arms. Her back was hard and lean, in contrast to the pillowy softness of her fleshy bottom. She took her hands and pressed them against her lower back, her elbows angling outward. Slowly, she pushed her hands down over the small of her back, over her curvaceous, copious buttocks, kneading the flesh with her fingers as she went, massaging herself. 

I felt like I was the one who was going to faint. The music stopped in mid song – the end of the tape. I looked in the reflection in the glass, and instead of the goddess in the mirror, I saw myself standing in the middle of the living room of the Blues House, buck-naked, my tits swinging loosely in front of me, my hands grabbing my ass, and two young men sitting on the edges of their seats, leering at me. Suddenly, I felt fat, pot-marked, and blotchy. I tried to fight the pull of reality. I wanted to become the goddess in the mirror. I straightened up, put my hands on my hips, closed my eyes and took a breath. If it had been just Tom, I would have let it go. I wanted to let it go. Now what, I thought.

There was the sound of polite clapping, followed by more vigorous clapping. I couldn't help but smile, and then laugh, embarrassed. My brow was damp with perspiration. I heard Tom's voice.

"Wow! Where were you? That was..."

"Awesome." Charlie chimed in.

"You can't stop now." 

Tom stood up and walked up behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders. Charlie hopped up and changed the tape. Tom put one arm around my waist and slowly moved me around until I was facing the mirror again. The warmth from his hands, his closeness to me, made me feel better, more relaxed. He whispered in my ear. 

"Put your hands up behind your head." 

It was a little game we had played. I would stand with my hands behind or clasped on top of my head, and he would run his hands over my body, sometimes kissing or suckling me in various places. What I had always enjoyed before was the fact that my eyes were closed, and I would never know what to expect next. But know my eyes were open. I clasped my hands behind my head, pulling my hair out of the way as I did. "Look at the mirror," he said as his hands started at my belly, then traced up and down my sides. 

The music came on and Charlie sat back down on the couch, just a few feet away from me. It was his "Classic Disco" tape, which I had once told him how much I enjoyed. I smiled at him and he nodded. Earth Wind and Fire, Wild Cherry, Kool and the Gang, Rick James, The Ohio Players: every song reminded me of high school, but in a good way, and now the songs seemed different. It was like the music was a part of me, and yet like I was hearing it for the first time. 

"Brazilian Rhapsody" by EW&F started off. "Ba da ba da bum bum bum, ba da bum bum bum...." The rhythm was perfect, the melody trance like. I let my eyes close slightly, too a soft, moist focus. Tom's hands ran over my body with a random, gentle motion.  

"Look at how beautiful you are." His lips pressed against my ear and his breath was warm. 

I shivered, and my flesh seemed to ignite. Goosebumps rose everywhere on me, and Tom's hands seemed to bring more and more tingling bumps to the surface as he rubbed the tops of my thighs, my buttocks, and my hips. The blood was charging around inside of me like it didn't know where to go next. As he stroked my pubic hair, I began to sway, and I could feel his erection through his shorts as my ass moved back and forth against him. I opened my eyes, and the woman in the mirror swayed with me as the strong hands caressed her. Her flesh shimmered in the candlelight. I wanted to touch her. I knew I could touch her. 

My nipples tightened. My pussy seemed to radiate heat throughout my body. I let go of my hair and reached for myself, for the flesh of the woman in the mirror, the goddess, so soft and full and warm. I stroked her breasts, and the supple tenderness of them astounded me. Tom stroked my shoulders. The strong hands stroked the goddesses' shoulders. I wanted to feel her tummy, her hips, her satiny mound. My hands meandered, and hands meandered on me. 

All over, I touched her. I had to please her. I had to feel her wetness, her heat. I pressed my hands against her pubic hair and pushed my fingers between her legs. Hot, a pinkness exposed every so slightly to my eyes. I rubbed her, and I shuddered. I grasped her, as if to prevent myself from falling, and the sensation filled me. I closed my eyes, and I became the goddess. Or she became me.

I am beautiful, I thought. Sexy and powerful and hungry – I am a goddess. I pressed harder against myself, manipulating the folds of my labia, rolling my clit around teasingly. Tom's hands gripped my ass and squeezed, his chest pressed against my back to stabilize me. I shut my eyes so tightly I saw redness like fire against my eyelids. Then his chest, my support, was gone, and I swayed. I knew what was coming, like the time before, and almost buckled in anticipation. 

With both hands, I pulled and then pressed against my pussy, unsheathing and then pinching my clitoris and it responded by filling me with a deep longing, a desire that sung from the center of my body. Tom's mouth pressed against my bottom, first one cheek, and then the other. His hands pulled at my thighs. And then I was surprised. I felt a mouth cup my nipple and large hands come to rest on my shoulders. Charlie had joined the frenzy of worship.

Yes, this was what I had wanted. More hands to caress me, more mouths to feed from me. From nipple to nipple he went, his lips lightly brushing each one, his warm hands politely pressing my shoulders together so that my breasts would extend further out, into his waiting mouth. I could have never imagined this, and yet it was as if I had orchestrated everything, as if I was in complete control. Tom's tongue flicked between my bum cheeks, the familiar pertness of its tip seeking to enflame me. I was massaging my swollen twat firmly, desperately wanting to rub at my clit, but patient, suspecting, even knowing what was next. 

Charlie kissed under my breasts, down my tummy, flicking his tongue into my bellybutton just as Tom pressed his tongue against my anus. Come on Charlie, I thought.

"Come on Charlie," I groaned. 

I pulled at myself, spreading the lips of my pussy wide, exposing my hot, live wire. I pressed my knees out, trying to balance myself perfectly between these two hungry, gorgeous mouths. Charlie steadied me by gripping my hips as he knelled in front of me. Tom pulled at my cheeks to expose more of me from behind. I felt like one of those Hindi princesses depicted in dance with my knees pointing out to my sides. Tom pressed the whole of his mouth over my tingling, receptive anus just as Charlie puckered his lips against my clit and drew it into his mouth. 

I couldn't help myself. I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror to see if the woman I had left there was enjoying herself as much as I was. I couldn't believe my eyes. Was that really me, with two men kneeling at me as if in prayer? And was I naked and awkwardly posed, yet still commanding and confidant in my presence? I smiled at myself, and then I laughed out loud, and I had to let go of my pussy to steady myself. 

I placed one hand behind me on Tom's curly head, and the other on Charlie's head, and I squealed with delight just to let them know that I appreciated their efforts. They went at me more vigorously, their chins almost touching between my legs. Even with the music flooding the room, I could hear the slurping and sucking clearly, and it made me feel wetter and the sound seemed to grow louder. I gripped both of them by the hair as I came. I shuddered and felt like collapsing, and instantly I came again. 




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 04



I had to be careful not to pull their hair out. I wanted to pull them up inside of me. I was mumbling something, groaning and wheezing, and I felt spittle running out of my mouth, but I dared not release one of them to wipe it away for fear of losing the feeling. I was all but yelling now, and if one of them had stopped, I just might have pulled his hair out. I felt like I was in a continuous state of orgasm. I felt like I would burn their mouths with my heat. Little beads of sweat trickled down my face, and I could feel sweat trickling down my tummy. I was alternating almost instantaneously between a feeling of total collapse and a sensation of extreme, almost painful ecstasy.

My legs gave way and Charlie's large hands caught me. I slipped out of their mouths simultaneously as Charlie lowered my spent weight to the floor. I ached between my legs from my bellybutton to the small of my back. I turned sideways and put my arms around their shoulders, as if they were going to carry me lifeless body off this field of passion. I was lost in a daze, but I was grateful to the point of silliness. I kissed Charlie full on the mouth, hard and deep and sloppy, and I tasted myself. I turned and kissed Tom harder still, and I sucked at his mouth, his wonderful, glorious tongue. I leaned against Tom, closing my eyes in exhaustion. I was definitely not the shy little girl I once remembered. 

I could tell they wanted to fuck me. It hung in the air between us. I liked the tension. I felt in control. And I wanted them to fuck me, but when and how I wanted. 

"I just need a little time to compose my self here," I sighed. 

Yes, both of them, one after the other. That's what I wanted. I wanted that for me, but I also wanted to please them. I wanted them to lust for me and therefore obey me and seek to please me. I had fantasized a few times about two men, but I don't know that the reality of the idea had every really captured me. It did now, and I was excited.

"Whatever you say, Annie." Tom stroked my head. "We've got plenty of time."

Rick James sang out, "She's a very freaky girl – uh huh, uh huh – the kind you don't take home to muther..." and we all broke into laughter. I felt strangely close to them at that moment, like I was just having a little fun with my best friends. There I was, sitting naked on the floor, all alone in a house with two clothed and fully-grown men, men I had known for only a short time, and yet I felt perfectly safe and comfortable. I wanted them to be naked, and with that thought I recalled how much I wanted to see Charlie's cock, how I had dreamed about it that afternoon after seeing him naked in the shower. Sweaty as I was, I was about to put it all together with a great idea when Charlie spoke up.

"How about a shower?" 

My thought exactly. It was like it was too good to be true; at the very moment I was again visualizing Charlie naked in the shower, he comes up with the idea. And now I could have them both to myself. No Amy to make me feel insecure and threatened. I felt revitalized. Eat your heart out, Amy, I started thinking, 'cause I'm going to fuck the lights out of Charlie tonight.

"Mmm, sounds good, in just a bit." I smiled a knowing, silly smile.

Charlie got us each a beer, and the three of us sat there on the floor in a triangle, crossed legged, sharing a joint, drinking our beers, laughing and talking, and I was buck naked and relishing the feeling. I loved being naked right then. It was an exhilarating sense of freedom. I was wallowing contentedly in my sex, the sex all around me that I had generated. I felt great about being me. 

When I went to my room to get a towel, I purposefully strode through the house with an exaggerated gait. I still had my white sandals on and they clicked out loudly (without thinking about it, I had never taken them off – thank goodness, because the extra inch and a half had certainly come in handy). My back was straight, my chest out, and I held my dress out to my side as I sashayed down the hall. With each step I could feel my butt cheeks jiggle and my breasts bounce, and the feeling made me step with even more determination. 

My plan, the way I articulated it in my mind that night, was to have some ass-slapping, hip-grinding, hot monkey sex with these two boys, and I refused to stop and let my mind ponder the vulgarity of my thoughts. Dammit, no, I thought, I am not going to screw this great feeling up – I'm going through with it. If I don't like it, or it gets to be too much, I'll call it all off. And I felt confident I could do that. I was ready to join them in the shower.



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 05



This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order.

*****

After tying up my hair in a bun, I strolled to the showers with the same authority as before, sans sandals, towel in hand. Both Tom and Charlie were there with their towels wrapped around their waists. 

“Such modesty,” I chided. I hung up my towel, walked between them, and turned on a shower. As I waited for the water to warm, I turned around and watched them.

Tom took his towel off first, and I admired his trim little butt cheeks as he hung up his towel, but as soon as Charlie pulled off his towel, my attention shifted. He could tell I was watching, and he took his time, showing it off. It was even larger than I remembered it, but from the angle it was protruding from him, I assumed he was at least partially aroused. I’d seen enough for the moment. As Tom had said, we had plenty of time. 

I stepped under the water to wet my face. Tom turned on the shower to the left of me, and Charlie started the one to my right. Hmm, I wondered, so how was this going to work? I took some soap from one of the wall-mounted canisters and lathered myself up a bit, and they followed suit. I was trying to watch both of them as they rubbed their hands over their bodies. They were rather beautiful creatures, I caught myself thinking.  “Let me get your back, Annie,” Charlie said, and now I noticed how different he looked without his glasses. Yes, my back I thought, but I didn’t say a word. I just turned my back to him. 

He started rubbing my back with the lather, and it felt wonderful. I stepped away from the water. Tom took some more soap and wrung his hands into a lather. Conveniently, I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and ran my fingers into my hair. Tom started with my breasts, and then ran his hands up and down my sides while Charlie stroked my back and bottom. I kept my arms up, and I closed my eyes and moaned in a sensuous, relaxed tone. Four hands gliding over my slippery skin, glistening and wet. 

Charlie’s hands strayed to the front of my hips, and he pulled me against him ever so gently. His perceptibly swollen, but still not fully erect penis slid up against my bum and settled between my cheeks. It was pointing straight up, and I could feel it growing firmer and longer, until the head of his penis was against the small of my back. His hands pressed against my pubic hair. Tom’s hands caressed my breasts. Charlie lowered himself by spreading his legs and slowly rubbed up against me. I wanted to feel his large, hot penis, and I reached behind me. He took a step back, and took him in my right hand. I could barely close my hand around its size, and even with a full grip on it, there were at least three or four inches to spare. His erection felt like it would take two hands comfortably. 

I turned sideways between them, and reached for Tom’s penis with my other hand, hoping I would find it full and hard. It was. Tom’s erection fit comfortably in my hand, with just enough extra length to allow for short, quick stroking motions. Charlie’s, on the other hand (so to speak), was large enough that it required long, deliberate strokes. The soap made it slippery, and allowed the skin slide through my grip.  

I stroked them both, and now each of them had one hand on a breast and the other on my ass. As I stroked them, I pressed the heads of their penises against my hips. Tom slipped his soapy hand into the crack of my ass and pushed it down and forwards between my legs. My twat was steamy with excitement, and I spread my legs just a bit to give him better access. Two of Tom’s fingers slid into me, gently, slowly. His thumb pressed against my anus, and I shivered unexpectedly. I encouraged them both by stroking them more vigorously. The hand Charlie had on my breast began a leisurely decent over my tummy, pausing at the little pooch under my bellybutton.  “Mmmmm,” I moaned to spur them on. “This feels great.”

I gripped them both more firmly, squeezing their members with appreciation. Charlie’s hand found its way over my mound, and he tickled the folds over my clit with the tips of his fingers. I swayed back and forth, first pressing myself against Tom’s hand, then Charlie’s. 

Incredibly, it felt as if Charlie’s penis was growing even harder and longer in my hand, and I knew what I wanted. I wanted to feel the hot length of him between my legs. I wanted to ride his shaft, and have the tip of it rubbing back and forth over my clit. And then I wanted him to enter my pussy from behind, carefully, very slowly, until I could feel him pressing deep inside me, pressing against the very center of my body.  

I let go of Tom’s penis, and turned myself so that they both pulled their hands away from me. I turned my back to Charlie and pushed my hand down to the base of his penis, and then I guided him between my legs. At first he seemed to want to push himself into me, and I whispered out, “Not yet, baby.” 

He grabbed my hips and I took my hand away from him and straightened up. I looked down at the front of my body, and I could see the red and shiny head of Charlie’s penis barely protruding from between my legs, and I gave it a tweak. Then I reached out for Tom’s shoulders, and he was kind enough to brace me by holding me under my arms. By arching and unarching my back ever so slightly, I was rubbing the length of my twat against Charlie’s rock hard cock. He accentuated the motion with his grip on my hips. I brought my legs together firmly, squeezing him. I could feel the tension as his penis tried to arch upwards. It was as if he could have lifted me off the ground with it .  “Hmmm… I like this, baby,” I groaned out. What was it with this “baby” crap? 

The mist from the showers was filling the room like a steam bath, and I was sweating with the tension of my grinding exertions. Within time, and without really thinking about it, I found myself leaning forward. I wanted him to enter me, to slowly press his wondrous hunk of a cock into my anxious pussy. I looked at Tom half pleadingly, half appreciatively, hoping he would understand what I was trying to convey, even if I wasn’t quite sure what that was. I put my hands on Tom’s hips and my head against his chest, and Charlie began to press into my steamy vagina. Tom was almost too slippery to hang onto. My face was pressed hard against his chest, and as I grabbed him around the waist he took a step closer to me. Charlie was an inch or two into me. He started a back and forth motion and I tried to neutralize his efforts by rocking with him.

“Nice and slow, nice and slow,” I pleaded.  “Uh huh, nice and slow,” Charlie responded. 

And then it was like I wanted it – like I had imagined it. Three inches, four inches, five, six, slowly his heavy shaft pressed into me. My vagina was tight from his size, swollen and tender from the hotness of it all, but willing and receptive. He was filling me, and when I had expected my ass to come to rest against his body, it wasn’t there, and he filled me some more. Finally I could feel the wetness from his pubic hair press against my bottom. I pressed against him, and he pulled at me hips. Still deeper he went, to a place I had not felt before. 

I started to slip down Tom’s wet body, and instinctively I grabbed his penis to steady myself. He let out a groan, and when I had regained my balance, I began to stoke him. His cock quickly filled with blood and stood at attention. Charlie would pull almost all the way out of me, and then slowly push himself into me, and I stayed with this rhythm as I massaged Tom’s throbbing erection. I was steady now, and Tom relaxed his grip under my arms and began to stroke and kneed my breasts. I kissed his chest. I suckled at his tight, small nipple. I ran one hand over his firm, flexed buttocks while I stroked his dick more vigorously with the other. 

My pussy felt wider and looser than it had ever felt before, and yet Charlie filled me completely. He was thrusting at me now, and the friction and the heat made me dizzy. I wanted to feel his body slap against my ass as he pounded into me, but he seemed too long, and then it was like muscles loosened in my center, muscles that I never knew I had, and he was completely inside of me. He thrust into me powerfully and deeply, and now I could feel his body thud into the flesh of my ass, his balls swinging between my legs, slapping against my clit, his dickhead slamming into my cervix. 

My head jerked and bounced against Tom’s chest, and I gripped his cock and flailed at him in rhythm. All three of us were grunting and groaning and making silly animal sex noises. And then I could tell that Charlie was about to come, and I didn’t want that to happen. Please, not yet, I thought. I didn’t want the fucking to stop. 

“Don’t come inside me. Don’t come yet,” I cried out in what must have sounded like a whimper. 

Charlie slowed his pace, leveled off, and all of a sudden I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I was trembling. I wanted it to feel the way it had felt – hard, wild thrusting, and I didn’t care for how long so long as it was now. 

“Never mind. Go ahead. Fuck me! Please fuck me.” 

Charlie thrust harder and faster than he had before. I was pushing myself against him now, rocking against him, pushing off Tom as I did. I let go of Tom’s penis and wrapped my arms around his waist. I held on to Tom for dear life, and bless his soul, he stood firm and gripped me by the shoulders and pushed me into Charlie with each thrust. Over and over again, Charlie banged into me with powerful thrusts, each one filling me more fully and completely then the one before it. I was bending and straightening my knees, thrusting myself back against him as he pressed into me. Faster and stronger we went at each other.

“Oh God,” Charlie yelled, and I knew he was going to come. His shaft was jabbing at me now, plunging into me, and the friction and the heat were almost painful, exquisitely and joyously painful. I felt like I was suspended between the two of them on strings. My feet didn’t feel like they were on the floor. 

“That’s it, Charlie. Fuck me!” I was gone, and I knew it, and I didn’t care. 

Here I was, then, naked in a shower with two relative strangers, large men, my arms around one guy’s waist, my shoulders slammed into him like I was tackling him, the other guy taking me from behind with this monstrous cock, and me yelping out “Fuck me” at the top of my lungs. Had I lost my mind? 

“Yes!” I screamed out, even louder. “Yes!!!” 

I could feel Charlie’s cock shuddering and wrenching inside me, and I knew it would be soon. I tried to hang on to the moment, make it last in my mind. He quivered and pushed hard into me, but then he kept his balance and kept thrusting. Then I could feel his cum oozing around inside of me, hot and gooey, and it felt wonderful. He kept thrusting, and my eyes glazed over. I felt his penis lose its stiffness, and still it was filling me, and still he kept thrusting. 

Just when I expected him to pull out of me, he thrust into me faster and harder, and it was like I was being fucked by yet a different person, some unknown interloper, and I rocked back harder into him. I was so hot and full, and I rocked back into him harder than he had ever thrust into me. I was grunting and breathing heavy, and sweating profusely, and I was shuddering throughout my body. 

“Come on, baby,” I groaned. I wanted more. 

Tom held me even more firmly, and I thrust a hand between my legs and began rubbing my clit. We slowed to a gentler rock, I released my clit and grabbed Charlie’s swinging scrotum and pressed his balls against my pussy, rolling them around. I let them go, and I pinched my clit and my mound hard between my thumb and forefingers. The heat and the friction spread from my pussy and my clit to my whole body. 

Finally, Charlie slipped out of me. I stood up and Tom held me tight, and I felt like I wanted to cry, not out of sorrow or joy, but just for the sake of crying. I was embracing Tom, hugging him tightly against me. He kissed me on my shoulder, and then on the top of my head. I wanted to melt into him. I wanted to be dry and in bed. I was embarrassed about what to do next. 

Tom whispered, “I think we all really need to finish this shower now.”

“Whew, yes sir, I agree,” came Charlie’s voice, and I smiled. Tom patted my ass and then pried himself away from me.

“Scrub-a-dub-dub.” Tom winked at me and stepped under a shower.

We finished the shower. I wanted to say something as we dried ourselves off, but I didn’t know what to say. It must have been one in the morning, still early for at that time in my life, and I still wanted to do something more. It occurred to me, as I was standing there, still naked, drying myself, that I had already taken both these guys at some point in the day, and that maybe I had had enough. But I suspected that Tom was still interested in a little more action than he’d seen so far, and I was at least game for that. But what? 

“Man, I could sure use another joint,” Charlie chimed in. He had wrapped his towel around his waist and was standing at the door to the shower room, and he seemed not to want the evening to end either. “Anyone game?”

Tom looked at me inquisitively and I shrugged and nodded my agreement. “Okay,” Tom said, “let’s meet back in the living room in a few.”

Charlie headed out the door with a waive. “See you in a bit.”

Tom and I stood there in the shower, naked, staring at each other. He looked puzzled. He wrapped his towel around his waist and spoke. 

“So how are you?”

“What do you mean?” I really didn’t know what he meant.

“Well, I guess I mean, so, was that okay and everything?” 

Was what okay? I thought. Was it okay for Charlie to ream me from behind in the shower? It certainly seemed “okay” at the time. Where was he going with this?

Still trying to figure out what the right answer to Tom’s question was, I tried to wrap my towel around me over my chest. The towel was long enough to reach around me, but it was a little short, so that I was exposed from the middle of my hips down. I looked down at my dilemma, and then up at Tom. We both smiled at each other.

“Well this isn’t working, is it?” I said with laugh. Tom laughed to. 

I pulled the towel off, bent over and wrapped it around my head, turban-style, and stood up looking at Tom. 

“Am I okay with this? Are you okay with this?”

“Oh yeah. Very much so.” 

Tom moved closer to me. He reached for my waist and pulled me up against him. I put my arms out straight over his shoulders and looked him directly in the eye. He smiled that damned infectious smile of his. 

“You are one hell off a women, Annie Malone, and I am definitely okay with this.”

“Well good, then. I’m not exactly sure what the hell we are doing, but I’m having fun, and that is definitely okay with me.” 

We kissed for a long time, wet and sloppy, and it tasted of soap. He rubbed my back affectionately. 

“You are a very beautiful women, too, Annie,” he whispered in my ear.

As he held me, I felt a surge of energy well up inside me. It had something to do with the realization that I was naked and warm and sexually charged. I wanted him to pick me up and carry me off to my bedroom and do unspeakable things to me. I wanted to feel him inside of me, all of me, like we had melted together. I pressed my naked body against him, and I kissed him hard, pressing against his lips, my tongue pushing its way into his mouth. I wanted him to push me against the wall and fuck me like he did that afternoon, but then I wanted more than that too. I felt like an animal had been unleashed inside me, and I pushed Tom against the tiled wall. 

I grabbed the towel around his waste and ripped it off of him. I was rubbing my flesh against him, rubbing up and down against his body. I could feel his penis stiffening against my pubic hair, and I rubbed harder. I pressed my hands against the wall and leaned into him, and my towel fell off my head. I put my cheek next to his because I wanted to feel his hot breath in my ear. He grabbed my ass and squeezed with all his might, pulling me against him. I got as far up on my toes as I could, until I could feel the head of his penis pointing between my legs, and then I pushed down and it slid between my legs, arching up against the entire length of my moistness. My pussy was soft and loose and wet and burning with my desire, and it was like I was perched on him, and I would fall away if the erection that supported me gave way. He whispered in my ear.

“I want to fuck you so badly, Annie. I want to…”

“I want to fuck you,” I breathed into his ear, gasping out the last word with emphasis. 

It was like I was mad at him, like I wanted to hurt him with my sex. I had him pinned against the wall, and now, instead of him fucking me, I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to take advantage of him and force myself on him the way he had done it to me that afternoon. I rocked against him, rubbing my pussy back and forth over the length of his cock.

“But what about Charlie?” Tom said suddenly.

What about Charlie? What kind of question was that?

“What about Charlie?” I replied in exasperation.

“I think Charlie would like to see that,” he said sheepishly.

“Fuck Charlie.” I continued to hump him against the wall. “Oh, no, wait, I did that.” We laughed. Charlie grabbed my hand.

“C’mon, we can do this anytime, but tonight we’ve got poor Charlie waiting for us downstairs.” With joints, too, I thought, and I followed Tom’s lead.

We entered the living room buck-naked and with authority. Charlie was sitting on the window seat in gym shorts, but nothing else, smoking a joint. The candles were still burning, and the stereo hummed with lounge jazz. 

“Don’t mind us, Charlie,” Tom said as he turned on me in the middle of the room. 

We embraced savagely. The whole way down from the shower I had thought I going to lose the mood, and now, suddenly, I felt insane with passion. I stood on my toes and leaned into him with all my weight. Or tongues raced around our mouths and our teeth clicked as we kissed. Then I started pushing Tom back and we almost fell. He pulled me down till we were on our knees. I was grabbing at him, and though unintentional, I was scratching him for sure. He had his arms tightly around me, like he was going to crush me, and one hand was gripping my ass with so much force that it hurt, but I liked the way it hurt. 

It was like we were totally and completely alone in our own little universe of passion, and yet I knew Charlie was there, watching us. I liked the way that felt to. It was like we were putting on a show that we had never rehearsed, trying to express the power of our sexual appetite for each other, and Charlie was there to give us encouragement. “Go kids, go!” I could almost hear him shout out.

I tried to reach between us, to squeeze Tom’s steeled cock, and he slightly relaxed his embrace. I grabbed it, and it was hot, and so hard it felt almost fragile, like a glass tube that could explode in my hand. He bucked as I stroked him, and I am sure it was uncontrollable, and I thought of him like a wild animal, twitching on instinct. And I was an animal too, in heat, instinctively needing him. I flailed at him, stroking him as furiously as I could, and the harder I worked, the more he bucked, and still he was able to reach down between us and begin massaging the swollen, aching softness between legs. 

I kicked out a knee to spread my legs, and he began rubbing me more vigorously, and it felt so perfectly stimulating that I gasped out “Oh yes!” Faster and more firmly he went at me, and the friction built up a heat in my crotch that burned and made me sweat, and now I was bucking too.

“Fuck me, Annie! Fuck me like you said you would.” We leaned away from each other slightly, but we kept up our torrid pace of mutual masturbation, and Tom’s face was tense and clenched. “Please fuck me!”




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 05



I couldn’t take it anymore. I all but wrenched down on his cock as I shoved him from his shoulder, and he rolled to my side on the floor. It was like we were professional wrestlers following a script. He was stretched out flat on his back, and from my knees I turned and straddled him, never losing my grip on his dick. I squatted over him with one hand on his chest, and I sat down hard on his cock, holding it tightly all the while. I pointed it into my pussy. At first it missed my opening, and it bent under the pressure of my weight, and then with a wet slurp, it surged up inside me and I pulled my hand away and heaved myself down on him. 

I put both hands on his chest, as if I was pinning him to the floor, and I started to buck up and down on his shaft, and the friction felt fabulous. I looked down at his face, and his eyes were shut tight. 

I looked up, and there was Charlie, directly in front of me, sitting placidly on the window seat, smiling at me. I smiled at him. He gave me a thumbs up, and I laughed. It reminded me of my masturbation fantasy, except I wasn’t masturbating while Charlie watched; I was fucking another man – big time fucking. Okay, I thought, here we go. 

I rode Tom harder, slamming my full weight down on him, bouncing on him with a fury that was new to me. All the while, I kept eye contact with Charlie. It was like I was saying, “You want some of this?” to Charlie. Or maybe it was, “Watch this!” Whatever it was, it was a sly and wicked stare and for one second I thought I saw a trace of bewildered fear in Charlie’s eyes.

My hair was falling out of its bun and strands were bouncing around my face annoyingly. Feeling like a show off, I pushed off Tom’s chest to an upright position. Without missing a beat, I reached up to my hair with both hands, pulled out the two clips, and let them sail in opposite directions across the room, winking at Charlie while I did it. My hair tumbled around my shoulders, and I lost my eye contact with Charlie.  I slammed down on Tom a few more times, and then I begin rocking back and forth on him, rubbing my clit into his pubic hair. My balance felt perfect, and I closed my eyes. Tom seemed to be sliding back and forth underneath me, increasing the friction. I wished I could reach up and grab something and push myself down on him. Faster and faster I went at him, and then, just like that, I was lost. My whole body turned to rubber. I wasn’t there anymore. I wasn’t me anymore. I was only the sensation of warmth that filled me. I tilted my head back and shut my eyes and let loose with a groan that was all but a scream.  The next thing I knew, Tom bucked up into me ferociously, lifting me off the ground. I lost my balance and fell forward, coming up on my knees and catching myself with my hands on the floor. Tom wrapped his arms around my waist and started thrusting into me like a jackhammer. I planted myself as firmly as I could to feel the full force of his phenomenal effort. Tom pounded into me savagely. We were wet from our own sweat, and the sound of his hips slapping against me filled the room. My hair encircled my face, so that it was dark and when I opened my eyes I could see Tom’s grimacing face below me. 

“Work it, baby,” I heard myself whisper. “Come on.”

“Oh God, I am going to come,” he sputtered. Oh shit, I thought. Goddammit, I just showered. I rolled off of him. Not in this sweet pussy, not that mess, not yet. 

Poor Tom. He appeared to be in pain and a state of confusion. As quickly as I could, I knelt beside him. I grabbed his hot, sopping, slippery penis, and I stroked it as vigorously as I could.

“Come on, baby, come on. Come for me.” There was that damn “baby” thing again. I could feel him relax. Whew. That was close. I wasn’t about to give anybody an excuse to call this night off. “That’s it. I want to watch you come. That’s it.”

“Oh, yeah, okay. Uh huh.” Tom arched his back and started squirming. 

He was so slippery I almost lost my grip. I reached with my other hand and grabbed his cock and I went at him with classped hands. I squeezed hard and pumped him as fast as I could. When I had said it, I hadn’t really meant it, but now I really did want to watch him come. Again he arched his back, and I could feel his penis throbbing and I knew he was about to come.

“Come for Annie, come on,” I whispered, and he jerked up and let out a huge sigh and the first spurt of jism shot out of him like a rocket and disappeared. It was a truly an amazing effort, and I found myself marveling at the force of his ejaculation. A second eruption sent a tablespoon’s worth of creamy fluid up to his chest, and then a steady stream started covering his belly. I kept stroking him, gently now, and I was transfixed. It was like I was milking him. 

“Wow!” I heard Charlie’s voice.

“Wow!” I repeated him. 

I got the Kleenex from the bar and sat down next to him. He started to reach for the box, and I held it away from him. For some reason, I really wanted to do this, and carefully I began to dab at his wet belly with the tissues. I used the tissues liberally and I took my time, getting every last drop, and then I dabbed his penis and scrotum, lovingly, tenderly. He stroked my back and petted my hair while I worked. Charlie changed the tape and offered to get us beers. Tom and I declined, and Charlie got himself one and sat back down on the window seat.

“So now what?” I asked shyly as I finished my job, not really having any idea what was next, but knowing I didn’t want the evening to end. 



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 06



This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order.

*****

“Annie?” Tom spoke up after a brief but awkward silence. “Can I eat you out.  Honestly, I would really like to do that for you.”  

I have never heard the words “eat you out” said with such sweetness and sincerity, and while it seems funny to me now, I was genuinely moved at the time.  I sat there glowing for a moment, and I thought about Tom licking my pussy, and I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more.  

“Sure,” I said meekly.

“Oh, Jesus, I don’t know if I can get up.”  Tom started to pull himself up on one elbow and I leaned forward, put my hand on his chest, and stopped him.  He lay back down, and again I straddled him.  I sat down on his chest with my weight on my knees, and I slowly inched my way forward.  

We had done this before, and now I was just teasing myself.  When my anxious pussy was just over his mouth, I put my hands on my thighs and took a deep breath.  Tom wrapped his arms around my thighs from underneath, pushing against my mound with his hands, and softly he started exploring the whole moist area with his tongue, kissing, nuzzling, and tickling me.  I looked up from his eyes and into Charlie’s.

“So,” Charlie said cheerfully, “what’s new.”

I smiled, but couldn’t think of a tart retort, and let it go.

“Nice weather we’re having, eh?”  Shut up Charlie, I thought.  

Charlie took a few sips from his beer, and then lit up a joint.  When I saw it, I must have raised my eyebrows.  

“Would you like this?” Charlie asked.  I tried to open my mouth to say something just as Tom’s lips puckered around my clit, and I only sighed.  

“Here.”  Charlie got up and started to hold the joint towards my lips, like he was offering to hold it for me.  When he was close enough, I reached out and took it from him and took a long, deep hit.  Charlie stood there as if I was going to hand it back to him, but I didn’t.  

“Ooh,” I gasped.  Whatever Tom was doing, it was nice.  

I took another hit and held it in.  This was certainly an interesting scene, I thought.  And then I caught myself looking at Charlie’s crotch.  His shorts were slightly tented; it looked like he had the stirrings of an erection.  Charlie must have noticed my gaze.

“Well, damn, everyone else is naked.”  And with that, Charlie dropped his shorts.  

He continued to stand directly in front of me.  I forced myself to look away, and then I thought, why?  Charlie was right, why shouldn’t he be naked.  Here I was, sitting right in front of him, totally naked with my pussy planted in another man’s face, and I was going to pick this time to be modest.  I took one more hit, and stared directly at Charlie’s impressive penis.  He took it in his right hand and gave it a stroke, and it started to grow and rise.  This was an interesting development.

I wet the fingers of my free hand with saliva and pinched out the joint (a trick I learned from watching Rudy).  I flipped the roach up onto the window seat, put my hands back on my thighs, and watched Charlie.  His erection was full and spectacular.  I let him stroke it for a while, and then I did the kind thing.  I reached for him, and he took a step towards me.  I took the lovely beast in my hand and pulled him closer to me.

Tom was doing a great job, and I was again getting that radiant heat in my center.  He was alternating between sucking gently on my clit and diddling it with the tip of his tongue.  The marijuana was beginning to take effect, and my skin got that familiar, warm, cozy feeling.  I was light-headed, and my vision was grainy and unfocused.  

“Mmmm…” I purred in relaxed contentment.

I set about the task in front of me.  I explored Charlie with both hands.  I manipulated his flesh tactilely with sensitive fingers, like a blind person might do upon finding a new and unknown object.  I ran my fingers around the soft edge of his circumcision scar.  I pressed down on the tip of his penis and realized it was like a soft bulb of flesh cupping the end of his hardened shaft.  The head seemed small, but I realized that was only in relation to the size of his shaft.  It was so pink and smooth.  I petted it, and I wanted to kiss it, but I would wait.  I followed the shaft down to his supple scrotum, and then cupped my fingers and followed it farther, pushing his balls aside, feeling where the shaft seemed finally to be rooted to his body deep between his legs, almost to his anus.  

I cupped his balls and tested their weight and tried to gauge their size.  Remarkable penis, unremarkable balls, I thought.  They weren’t any larger than others I had felt.  I squeezed them gently and rolled them around in my hand like large marbles.  An interesting concept, these free swinging little eggs floating around in a small sack of skin.  I was having fun playing with them.  I would try and grab one, and then let it seemingly squirt from my grasp, like pinching a watermelon seed.  Then I encircled his scrotum where it attached to his body with a forefinger and thumb and squeezed, like pulling a drawstring on a marble sack.  I tugged down just a little and shook it, and I watched his balls jiggle about.  I noticed that when I gave his sack a tug, his penis would bounce.  And then I did it slowly.  It was like raising and lowering a missile launcher, I thought.  Wow, was I stoned.

Tom had taken to slowly inserting his tongue into my vagina, then pulling it out and lolling it about my clit.  It was soothing and relaxing and felt like just what I wanted. I took Charlie in both hands.  Again I noted that I had to grip tightly, almost too tightly, to touch my fingers to my thumb.  I could hold Charlie using both hands fully, but there wasn’t enough room to stroke him that way. 

 It occurred to me that Charlie wasn’t really that much bigger than average (I would guess that Tom was about average), but that was only in a pure, mathematical sense.  Visually, “feel-wise,” it certainly seemed like a dramatic difference.  As I thought about it, I came to the conclusion that Tom had the kind of penis a girl could fuck every day, or even two or three times a day (or even the first thing in the morning, while you were still sleepy, without having to fully wake up).  

Charlie’s dick, on the other hand, seemed like a special occasion dick.  You couldn’t just hop on for a quickie, or give in to sex just to be nice without really wanting to.  No, you’d have to want to do it, plan for it even. Of course, I suppose a girl could get used to it.

I gave Charlie a few long, languorous strokes to let him know I hadn’t forgotten him.  I decided it was easier with one hand, and I picked up my pace.  Charlie started to groan.  I pulled him a little closer to me, and I kissed his balls.  I took his balls into my mouth and rolled them around a little.  He tasted salty, but not unpleasant.  A little like chicken, I thought, and laughed to myself.  

I sucked on his sack and stroked his penis, and Charlie spread his legs to lower himself a few inches.  I ran my tongue up to the tip his cock, stroking the base of it with one hand while I petted and tugged at his balls with the other.  I mouthed his penis from the underside, and for a moment I felt like I was eating a hoagie sandwich.  

To take him into my mouth, I was going to have to get up on my knees some, and I didn’t want to interfere with Tom’s dutiful work.  Still, I wanted to take Charlie’s meaty cock in my mouth.  I raised up a little bit, and Tom’s lifted his head to follow me.  Just a little more, and I pulled down on Charlie’s penis and put the head of it in my mouth.  I kept pumping him and rubbing his balls while I worked him with my mouth.  Charlie groaned more loudly.

Tom took a breath, and then began lapping at my pussy.  I had to rise up some more, and when I did, Tom lifted himself up on his elbows, keeping his face buried in my crotch.  I was almost vertical on my knees now, and I was able to come down with my head onto Charlie’s cock.  I sucked on him as best I could, but I felt embarrassed that I wasn’t more proficient.  I really wasn’t sure what I was doing, so I did it like I might have liked it  if I had a clitoris the size of a kielbasa (hmmm…that was an interesting thought).  

I puckered my lips and sucked my way up and down on him.  I was only getting a few inches into my mouth, but I tried to satisfy the rest of him with my hands.  I must have been doing something right, because I heard Charlie cry out, “Yes, like that, ooh, yeah!”

Tom lifted his face up into me and I felt his lips slide down my twat towards my anus.  I tried to relax my butt muscles to encourage him, and it worked.  He latched onto my bumhole with his mouth, and I hummed a groan of delight.  That’s it, baby, I thought.  He sucked at me, and I sucked at Charlie, and everything in the world was pretty damn good, and then Charlie almost stumbled over backwards.  We all lost a hold of each other.

“Oh, sorry,” Charlie said.  

“Sit on the edge of window seat,” I said, and I pointed to a spot right in front of me. 

Charlie was obedient.  I walked on my knees over to him, and started on his penis again.  This was much better.  I could rest my elbows on Charlie’s thighs and get a much better angle for sucking his dick.  I was starting to enjoy having my face buried in Charlie’s well-appointed lap.

Then I wondered what had happened to Tom.  I came up for a breath and looked over my shoulder.  Tom was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching us.  I surprised myself with what I did next.  I arched my back and wiggled my ass at him, as if to say, Gimme some more.  He laughed.

“Okay. Okay. I got the hint.  Good Lord, you’re a horny thing tonight.”  Tom started to crawl over on all fours.  I felt his tongue plunge into my twat and I eagerly went back to my business.  

I tried taking Charlie deeper into my mouth, and realized that if I let the soft head of his penis push up against the back of my mouth, I could get my lips surprisingly far down on his shaft.  All of a sudden it was like I had a cock-sucking epiphany.  It wasn’t really in my throat, like that silly “Deep Throat” movie suggested.  It was definitely deep in my mouth, but I wasn’t gagging on it.  It would just scrunch up a bit as I tried to get my lips further down his shaft.  I was definitely getting the hang of this, and I went at Charlie with more confidence.

Tom took his mouth from my twat and sucked at my asshole, soaking it with saliva, pressing his tongue into me, and moistening me.  Then he stopped.  Just as I was about to look back again to see what had happened, Tom stood up and went to the bar.  A beer?  I kept at Charlie, and he seemed to be enjoying it.  And I seemed to be enjoying it, which was new to me. 

I felt a finger tracing the circumference of my anus. I felt the finger push gently into me, just the tip of it.  Then it pulled away.  What was he up to, I wondered.  And then I knew.

I felt the finger again, and this time it was oily and slipped into me easily.  While the finger twisted I felt a drizzle of oil in the crack of my ass.  Tom pulled his finger out of me and rubbed the oil into my buns and my crack and my bumhole with both hands.  I tried desperately to keep my concentration on Charlie, to think of what Tom was doing as only a sensation to be absorbed.  He pulled his hands away and he nudged his knees up between my legs and spread them out a bit.  He put his hands on my butt cheeks, and then I felt his semi-flaccid, semi-erect penis rubbing up and down against my bumhole, both of us soaked in oil.  I tingled with fear and (dare I admit it?) delight.

I could tell Tom’s dick was getting harder.  I knew what was going to happen next, and I wasn’t positive it was a great idea, especially with Charlie’s big cock buried in my mouth. I felt Tom make his first careful effort to enter me, and his dick was more erect, but still a bit soft and squiggly, and this made me feel better about the situation.  

To tell the truth, it felt pretty darn good.  As a matter of fact, as he slowly pushed into me, and I could feel his dick stiffen up a little more, I felt a surprising sense of excitement well up inside me.  We were very slippery, and as he slid a little deeper into me, I felt myself relax, and even press back into him ever so daintily.  When he was fully inside of me, his pubic bone against my bum, he rocked us slowly.  

I couldn’t keep my concentration on Charlie’s cock any longer, and I came up off of him.  I kept both hands on him, however.  I needed to steady myself, and I clung to Charlie’s sturdy mast for dear life.  I could tell Tom was fully erect inside of me now.  Slowly he pulled away from me.  It felt like it would take forever for him to pull out of me, and then I realized I didn’t want him to pull out of me.  I closed my eyes and put my head in Charlie’s lap.  I moaned under my breath, and Charlie, bless his soul, petted my head.  I gave his cock a heartfelt squeeze.

With my eyes closed, I began to wonder where I was and what was happening to me.  It was like a dream.  Tom was rubbing my pussy with his hand.  He was bumping against me now – he would pull back just an inch or so, very slowly, and then push back in, but with some force.  I could feel how tight I was around him.  And then I noticed if I relaxed completely there was almost no resistance.  

I tried squeezing ever so gently as he pulled away from me, and I marveled at how I seemed to go from loose and receptive to extremely tight, like I could push him out of me with only a modest effort.  I relaxed when I felt he had pulled out far enough, and he would push back into me.  We were in rhythm, like before, except there was thrusting now.  It didn’t scare me anymore.  I knew I could control the rhythm.

As we went faster, his strokes became shorter.  He grabbed me by the pussy again, just like before, and his fingers sunk into me.  Again, he squeezed my in rhythm, and it felt better than before.  Soon he was bouncing into me with very short strokes, and each time his pubic bone bumped my ass, I let out a little groan.

“Unh, unh, unh, unh,” I groaned and Tom started the same cant with me, in unison.  And then I realized I was squeezing poor Charlie’s penis too tightly.  I let go of it, and my hands clasped him at the sides of his waist.  The side of my face was pressing up against Charlie’s penis now, but I didn’t care.  Charlie gripped me by the shoulders to steady me.  It was so hot down there, between my legs.  I had never felt heat like this.  I shut my eyes so tightly my entire face clenched. 

 “Unh unh unh unh,” and then Tom’s inflection changed, and he quickened the pace yet again.  

“Oh oh oh oh oh oh.”  

They were tiny little stokes now, but so forceful and hot.  I couldn’t keep up the pace, and I let go, my body almost limp with exhaustion.  It was all Tom now.  He was lifting at me and pushing into me with such strength that my knees had no weight on them.  
All of a sudden, I felt very far away.  It was like I was floating in air, with no strength to move.  I was a ball of warmth with no body.  The sweat, the grunting, the scent, the animal nature of what we were doing seemed silly.  These men were ravaging me, and yet I was in complete control.  I wanted them to ravage me.  Or was I ravaging them?
And then I was back.  

“Unh-unh-unh,” I herd myself.

“Oohhh…” and Tom pushed into me.  

I couldn’t feel his cum this time, but I knew that he was coming.  My weight returned to my knees.  It was all still for a moment.  

Tom’s penis flagged quickly and slipped out of me, his hands dropped from my pussy, and he lay down on his side on the floor behind me, panting.  My anus ached and burned, but it didn’t hurt.  I felt relieved that he was through, but I still felt unfulfilled.

Remarkably, my center still ached for more.  I needed to take a breather, though.  I sat down on my heels and then fell back onto the floor.  My head came to rest on Tom’s hip.  I scooted over a bit, and settled my head into the curve of his waist.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Tom said out-of-breath.

“I need a break.”  

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  What a night, I thought.  I may have said it out loud, but I didn’t mean to.  I lifted my knees and spread my legs unabashedly, and the cool air felt soothing against my moist soreness.  How immodest of me, I thought.  Who cares, I thought again.  I took some Kleenex and essentially wiped my ass.  I dabbed up the come and oil.  I suspect it was at this moment that I realized my goddess days were finished.  I was just a woman now, a very earthbound creature beset with the same sticky, fleshy preoccupations of all earth’s creatures.  I was okay with that.  

“Hey, Charlie, could you get me a beer please?”  I tossed the Kleenex aside.  I needed something cold to drink.  

“Absolutely,” I heard Charlie reply.  I didn’t open my eyes until I could tell Charlie had settled down beside me on the floor.  I looked at him, and he handed me the beer.

“So…” Charlie started, then paused.  

“What do ya want to do now, huh?” Charlie finally asked in a silly, facetious tone.  

We all laughed and I closed my eyes.  What did I want to do now?  Hmmm…

After drinking a good portion of the beer, I felt re-energized.  I drank it as I was – prone, my head up against Tom’s side, buck-naked, legs splayed.  As immodest as my position was, what I really wanted to do was hold the cold, wet beer bottle against my well-worked twat.  Now that would be immodest, I thought, and I laughed.

Charlie laughed too as he asked, “What?”  

I looked at Charlie.  He was sitting cross-legged beside me.  I tried to take a sip of beer, and then I started to laugh again, which caused me to cough, which caused both Tom and Charlie to laugh.

“It’s nothing.”  I said.  Suddenly I felt silly in my nakedness.  “I just feel kind of silly.”  I felt like a slut.  

I took a sip of the beer and casually rested the bottom of the bottle on my mound while I held it.  The cold wetness felt too good for me to resist any longer, and holding the bottle by the neck, I it let slip down between my legs.  I let one knee fall to the side on the floor (unconsciously, but in retrospect purposefully to the side Charlie was sitting on, so he could see what I was doing). I spread my legs even further, and I pulled the bottle into my crotch.  I couldn’t help but think that this was outrageously brash of me, but I didn’t care.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” I said demurely, “but this has been quite a day.”  

Tom laughed, and I saw Charlie smile, his eyes fixed on my soothing relief efforts.  The chill of the bottle went through me in quick waves, a sensation with which I was entirely unfamiliar, but felt perfectly designed for the moment.  I turned the bottle as it warmed from my heat, and the bottle seemed even colder than at first.  I shivered and let out a barely audible gasp.  

If I had been bolder (or if I had been alone) I would have thrust my knees up to my shoulders and planted the stingingly cold bottle right up against my sore (and presumably red and swollen) little bumhole (you bastard, Tom).  Instead, I adjusted myself slightly and stealthily pushed the bottle farther down.  Damn, I said to myself, realizing that to accomplish my goal I would have had to spread my legs even wider.  That would have been too immodest, even given the existing state of my predicament.  I decided to live with my circumstances, and continued to turn the bottle slowly as it pressed against my sweltering flesh.  I wanted to giggle from the tickling chill, but refrained.

“You know, this reminds me,” Charlie perked up, “I had a girlfriend in high school who absolutely… well here, let me show you.”  




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 06



Charlie had gotten up, and was fumbling around in the refrigerator behind the bar, out of my view.  He plopped down on his heels right in front of me, between my legs, and opened his mouth to reveal an ice cube clenched in his teeth.

“You can’t be serious,” I sputtered, laughing.  

Charlie took the cube back into his mouth and mumbled. 

“She loved it.  Don’t ask me.  I was just doing as I was told.”  

Tom was chortling, causing my head to bounce against his side, so I took the bottle away from between my legs and got up on my elbows.  Charlie raised his eyebrows and smiled, daring me.  I was intrigued, but didn’t let on

“C’mon, you’re nuts.”  I was being disingenuous.  I knew this, because just as I said that I drew my knees up with my legs spread as if what I had actually said was, “Okay, here you go.”

Charlie crept down so his chest was on the floor and slithered up to me, putting his face within inches of my partially soothed pussy.  I could tell Tom had gotten up from the floor behind me and taken a seat on the couch, and I felt like flipping a casual waive over my shoulder, as if to regally say, “You are dismissed.”  

Charlie put his lips up to my flesh, and I squealed and playfully tried to squirm away.  

“This is insane,” I said, and just as I said it I felt the sharp, white-hot coldness of the ice cube press into my heat.  I didn’t know whether to scream or faint or push him away, so I didn’t do anything except fall back off my elbows and stare wide-eyed at the ceiling with what I am sure was a remarkable look of disbelief on my face.

I couldn’t feel the cube, per se.  It felt more like it was Charlie’s mouth that was cold, inhumanly cold, ten times colder than the beer bottle.  I tried to squirm away from him, but I didn’t really want to get away from him.  Charlie reached around my legs from behind and gripped my thighs, steadying me.  He pressed his face into me more firmly.  He must have sucked the ice cube back into his mouth, and I relaxed slightly, then I felt it again.  He nodded, and the exasperating iciness ran up and down the length of my twitching, nervous twat.  

I practically did faint from the shock.  I felt momentarily blinded, though my eyes were wide-open.  I slapped at the floor with open palms in an effort to fight the instinct to pull away from him.  I squirmed and wiggled uncontrollably, and then I started to laugh uncontrollably, like a child being tickled unmercifully.  I was sputtering out profanities and invectives amidst my laughter, interspersed with thinly veiled pleas to stop.  Something like: “Stop!  Oh shit.  You fuck.  Stop it!”  

It was all to no avail.  My girlish laughter betrayed me.  And then, in one instant of calmness, I heard myself say, “Try a little lower.” 

Tom erupted in a hysterical fit of laughter behind me, and his hilarity forced tears to spring from my eyes.  

Charlie coughed, I gasped for breath in the moment of relief, and then the iciness stung me again.  Lower it went, and I sunk my fingernails deep into the carpet and held my breath.  It touched my anus, and the iciness ripped through me like I had plunged into a frozen lake.  He held it there, still as he could, and yet the waves of tingling continued their rampage.  I kept waiting to get used to the sensation, but after only a few moments I couldn’t take it anymore, and I forcefully pulled away from his grasp and he let me go.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed involuntarily.  I clenched my legs tightly together, and I could feel all the wet coldness against my thighs.  The warmth built up slowly, and I waited for it, panting from the laughter, lying fetal and still on my side.

“Pretty wild, eh?” I heard Charlie ask, stressing the “eh” like a Canadian.

Tom was still laughing as he mocked me.  “Ha! ‘Oh Jesus! Stop it, asshole!  Oh shit!  Oh… hey, try a little lower.’  Oh man, that was funny.”

“Fuck you, Tom.”  I couldn’t help but chuckle.  I was embarrassed.  I didn’t know what to do next.  “Could someone get me a robe?” 

“Just a second.”  Charlie left the room, and looking up from the floor I watched his butt cheeks jiggle as he headed out the door.  

Tom got up and helped me up, and Charlie returned with his robe and handed it to me.  It was cotton, white with blue stripes, and it was way to big for me but I wrapped it around me anyway.  I sat down on the couch and watched Charlie put on his shorts and set about changing the tape.  Tom had apparently slipped out of the room.

“Her name was Alyssa,” Charlie said as he fell back into the couch at the other end from me and put his hands behind his head.  

I tucked my legs up under me and turned sideways to face Charlie, and set about rolling the sleeves of the robe up a little bit.  

“She wasn’t pretty, per se, but she had the curliest, thickest black hair, and when she took her glasses off… Well, she looked kinda sexy.  Man, she was hairy though.” He seemed to trail off in reminiscence. 

“Oh, excuse me.”  He looked at me.  “Anyway, she was such a prude.  She was really nice and all, but she was just terrified of sex.  And then one night we got a little hot and heavy, and I um… ate her out a little bit.  She tried to stop me, and then it was like… well I don’t know what it was like, but she went ape-shit.  She loved it.  And from that night on she was totally different.  It was like she was constantly in my face.” He laughed and shot me a glance. “Or on my face, should I say.  Anyway, she was always arranging to get me alone, and then she’d attack me.”  He paused.  

“Funny thing is, we never actually did it.  Some kind of virgin complex, I suppose.  But she would do anything else.”

He paused when Tom entered the room.  Tom had put on a tank top and a pair of shorts.  He sat down on the window.

“So, how did the ice cube thing come up?”  I couldn’t help my curiosity. 

“Well, I’m not sure, but I think she took to some serious self-experimentation, if you know what I mean.”  Charlie looked at Tom.  “Alyssa, my gypsy-girlfriend from high school.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned her.”  Tom seemed disinterested.  He leaned back against the side beam of the window and closed his eyes.

“Jesus, it was like she’d stick anything in her – anything ‘cept for me anyway.  She’d pull a dildo out of her purse and hand it to me, then start tearing her clothes off.”

“Bullshit.”  I was incredulous.  I wanted to hear more.

“No shit.  Swear to God.  It was like she had just discovered she had a pussy, and she couldn’t get over how awesome it was.” 

I had to chuckle at this, as in the back of my head a heard a little voice mock me, saying, “Oh, kind of like you just discovering you had an asshole, Andrea.”

“We’d be in her room after school, with her goddamn mother right down stairs cooking dinner or something, and she’d push me down on the bed, yank off her pants, jump right on top of me, and commence to smothering me.  Or she’d say, ‘Here, use this,’ and hand me something or other: a dildo, a feather, or these little balls on a string.  

“The ice cube thing started one night when her parents were out-of-town.  Don’t ask me.”  Charlie paused to think.  “We only did that a few times, but I remember it drove her wild.  And she was amazing.  I mean, she’d always come, and when she did, it was like she was going to pass out.” 

He looked at me and I gave him a stare that said, Don’t go there.  He smiled.  

“And she could get there in, like a couple minutes, no time at all.  And she was loud.  Loud like she was faking it for a movie or something.  She had to put a pillow over her face if her folks or her little brother were in the house.  Wow!” 

Charlie shook his head. “Then get this.  Afterwards we would go downstairs, and she would start talking to her mother about her violin lessons, or some stupid shit like that.  At first I thought she was trying to be funny, but she was just being herself.”

“Did she change in other ways?”

“What do you mean?”

What did I mean?  Come on Charlie.  “I mean, did she start screwing around with other guys?  Did she start wearing tight jeans and too much make-up?  Did you turn this girl into a slut, Charlie?”

“She didn’t change at all.  Not like that.  She was her class valedictorian.  Believe it.  She was straight as an arrow, hung around with the good girls.  She stayed exactly the way she was.  She was kind of frumpy.  Of course, I was no great catch either.”  

Not if you didn’t count the size of his cock, I thought to myself.  Charlie continued.

“If you had tried to tell the other kids what we were up to, they’d have never believed it.  No way.”

“Did you guys EVER do it?” 

“Never.”  Charlie shook his head forlornly.  “She was a year ahead of me, and she disappeared to college somewhere in the East, and I never heard from her again.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem fair.  I mean, did she ever… reciprocate in any way?” 

“You mean…”

“Did she ever give you a blow job, Charlie?”

“Oh God yes,” he laughed.  “Not at first, but after a while.  She must have gone down on me a hundred times.  At first, she was real tentative, scared and all, but towards the end, before she left town, she was…” Charlie sighed, “she was really in to it.”  Charlie laughed, as if he had just delivered a gross understatement.

I thought to ask “Did she swallow,” but I think I knew the answer from the look on Charlie’s face.  Slutty Bitch, I thought (I can’t stand to swallow – not then and not now, and I don’t).  Then a curious thought stuck in my head.  

“Do you think you were the first guy she’d ever messed around with like that?”

“Absolutely – first and only.  She told me so, all the time, like she was apologizing for not knowing what the hell she was doing.”

I started to giggle, and coughed out a laugh.  

“What?”  Charlie gave me a puppy dog stare, like he thought I was going to make fun of him.

“Oh God, Charlie.”  I tried to compose myself.  I couldn’t.  I bet that poor girl never saw a cock like Charlie’s ever again. I beamed with a smile and looked Charlie in the eye.  

“I can guarantee you one thing, Charlie.  Wherever she is, your Alyssa is kicking herself in the ass for passing on you, and she’s going to be kicking herself for the rest of her life.” Then tears came to my eyes I was laughing so hard. 

Charlie’s expression changed to a gracious smile.  

Charlie and I talked for at least another hour. At some point, Tom stood up and announced that he couldn’t keep his eyes open, and then he wasn’t there.  Charlie was so engaging I didn’t notice Tom leave.  We chatted like intimate, well-acquainted lovers.   I told Charlie about my “first time,” and about how overweight and ugly I felt in high school.  I even told him about Rick.  Charlie shared that he was essentially a “dork” in high school – chess club, yearbook, band.  He was self-deprecating, and very smart, and very witty in a cynical-but-funny sort of way.  

As we talked, I fond myself growing extremely fond of Charlie.  I wanted so desperately to ask him about Amy.  An evil part of me wanted to tell him about Amy’s boyfriend, just to see his reaction.  Then I realized he probably wouldn't care.  I resisted the urge, and Amy remained conspicuously absent from our conversation. 

And then we were quiet.  It must have been three o’clock in the morning.  We sat together in the quiet, and it wasn’t awkward.  A mellow jazz tape had been repeating itself over and over again, barely audible in the background.  The candles were flickering with the last breath of flame.  The air was cool and moist and the world outside was still.

“Annie?” Charlie whispered. “May I kiss you?”

My heart fluttered.  After all that we had been through, all the dirty, nasty, filthy animal sex we had shared that day (how had I referred to it? – “ass-slapping, hip-grinding, hot monkey sex?”), I was startled by the sweetness and romantic sincerity in his voice.  It was as if we had just met before we had started talking, and now we knew we were going to be friends, maybe even lovers.  I felt guilty about the sex, and for that moment I wished it had never happened.  

“I’d like that, Charlie.”

He took off his glasses.  We both moved to the middle of the couch, awkwardly, like kids at a sock hop trying to be nonchalant but tingling inside with nerves.  He put a hand to my cheek first, then our lips met, barely touching.  I put a hand on his chest, and he touched my shoulder.  We kissed for a long time, lightly, without lust, solely for the sheer pleasantness of the sensation.  My robe had fallen open, and he placed his hand on my breast, and rested it there.  I pulled away and kissed his forehead.  He kissed my neck, my cheek, my ear.  

He whispered something in my ear that I could barely hear.  I think it was, “I feel very fortunate to be with you tonight.”  I wanted to ask him to say it again, but I couldn’t.

He shifted off the couch and put one arm around my back, the other under my legs.  He did not surprise me when he lifted me as he stood up.  He didn’t seem to exert any effort, and he made me feel light and secure in his arms.  

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said in a hushed, raspy voice.  I giggled. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?”  I said it rhetorically, with intentional sarcasm, but deep down, I wanted him to say yes.

“Yes.  I’d like that.”




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 07



This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order. 

*****

He carried me upstairs, again seemingly without effort. The robe I was wearing, his robe, was falling off of me, and I enjoyed the way my bare hip bounced off his stomach as he took each step. My door was open. I was kissing his neck, tasting his salt as he carried me into my room. I was languishing in the playful, silly romanticism of the moment when I was jolted with fear. What if Tom had decided to sleep in my bed, waiting for me? Charlie paused at the bedroom door, and in just the moonlight I could see that my bed was empty. I had to resist breathing an audible sigh of relief.

Of course I was turned the wrong way for him to set me on the bed the way he was going to in our imaginations – me sprawling out like a cat stretching with my head perfectly rested against the pillow. Also, the room was lofted, one bed up and mine below, so he would have had to duck to get to it. He set me down on my feet. I drooped my shoulders and allowed his light robe to slip off of me. We embraced. I slid his shorts down and took him by the hand, pulling him down into my bed. We stretched out next to each other, kissing softly, running our hands carefully over each other's body. We were big people, and we seemed to fill the bed, needing every inch of space for our outstretched limbs. 

Charlie leaned back from me and looked towards the ceiling. "This is nice," he said. I cuddled up against him and rubbed his chest.

I almost said, "What about Amy?" Dammit. How did she jump into my mind? Go away. Please go away. 

"I think you left your glasses downstairs," I said stupidly instead.

"It's okay." He petted my head. "You know..."

I waited, but he didn't say anything. "What?" I whispered.

"Amy and I aren't really anything. We're just friends."

I laughed. 

"No, I know what you're thinking, but... she's different."

"Different?"

"I mean like strange different, not... she's not strange... oh, I don't even know why I brought it up. I guess I just wanted you to know that."

So what about Tom and me? The question was obviously hovering there between us. I had no idea what the answer was to that question. "Let's not make this too complicated. We're here. And like you said, it's nice."

"We're young, and it's a big, strange world, isn't it?" He was serious.

I started to laugh. "Yes, darling, but we will always have tonight."

We laughed and hugged, and he tickled me. He stretched back out, and I continued to rub his chest. We were quiet for quite awhile, and I couldn't help myself. I rubbed his belly, then lower, till my fingers "accidentally" brushed across his penis. It was as if I wanted to make sure it was still there. It was, and it was just as I had remembered it. I petted it. Then I remembered it in my mouth. 

Had Tom actually ass-fucked me just a few hours ago? Me?! Little Maddy. It seemed like a dream (except that my butt still ached – that bastard!). 

Charlie's penis grew in my hand like magic. He leaned up on an elbow and kissed me from above. I settled back. He pressed his cheek to mine and nuzzled my ear lobe with his lips. The room was dark, with only the faintest blue glow of moonlight. The closeness of the loft ceiling made it feel like we were in a dark, warm cocoon. The fan was on low, and its hum and the rhythm of Charlie's breath were the only sounds I could hear.

I let go of his penis, and the air felt cold against the heat of the palm of my hand. He reached over me and shifted his weight on to his arms, and his body seemed to hover above me, less than an inch from my flesh. I wrapped my arms around his chest and rubbed my hands against his back. We kissed more passionately than before, and when he tried to pull his lips away from mine I lifted my head, letting him know not to stop. I pulled him down on top of me. His skin fell against mine. His penis was hot and massive and very obvious between us, pressing into my hip. He pushed his knee against my knee, and I parted my legs. 

"I want to feel you inside of me, Charlie." I did. I wanted us to melt together in our cocoon, to be reduced to a single, pulsing vibration of sensuous flesh. 

He rolled on to me, and I spread my legs wide. He started to pull away from me, as if to sit up on his knees and adjust our various appendages in some way to ease his entry into me. I pulled him back down on top of me. His penis seemed pinned against my pubic mound, but I didn't want him to sit up. I arched my back and squeezed his hips between my thighs and pulled down on his body with my arms and legs, like he was a tree and I was shimmying my way up his trunk. 

"Like this," I whispered, and he moved down until the soft tip of his penis was pointing into my warmth. I wriggled my hips and lifted my thighs until I felt the position was just right, and then I hugged him tightly in my arms, wrapped my legs around his waist, and pressing my lips against his ear I breathed out a sibilant "Slowly." He pushed into me ever so slightly, and I wriggled again to allow my moistness to open for him. We stayed like this for some time: mouthy, wet kissing, his tip nestled at the brink of its journey. He was teasing me for saying slowly, I know. I could feel tiny little twitches of movement, and I couldn't tell if these movements were involuntary, or by design. He seemed to gain confidence in his ability to manipulate his member, and with a small twist of his hips he was able to slide the head of his penis up and down, but not into, the opening of my vagina. My moistness increased. My body was hot underneath him, and as he dawdled about I became restless. All right, already, I wanted to say jokingly. I wanted to begin to feel his progress, and I pushed down gingerly with my hips, until it felt like I had his tip in the grasp of my juicy flesh. He pushed in to me gingerly, then I felt him side into me with agonizing patience, more slowly than I could have ever imagined.

"Like this?" Then he rocked back and forth ever so slightly. "Or like this?"

I had had enough of his toying. With my legs wrapped around him, I planted my heels into his butt cheeks and squeezed him into me. When I felt full of him, I relaxed, but he continued his trek, and filled me more. He pressed on, until I felt his mound push into mine, and then he strained and it felt as if he was consciously growing his penis inside of me. My whole body tingled with heat and the sensation of closeness and fullness.

"Oooh.," I gasped. 

I pulled him down into me with my arms and my legs, squeezing with all my might. I wanted to feel the full brunt of his weight falling into me, and he came off his elbows and obliged me. He thrust his arms behind my back. As I squeezed him, he squeezed me, and his hands felt strong and large against my back.

We held on to each other so firmly that our bodies seemed to share a hum of energy. My eyes were shut so tight that all I could see was a red, glowing, illuminated heat. I hung on to the feeling until I couldn't hang on anymore, and I sighed in exasperation as my muscles gave way to exhaustion. 

He rocked slowly, almost imperceptibly at first. I concentrated on relaxing every muscle in my body as he rocked on top of me. My arms still clung to his chest, my legs still wrapped his waist, but I was limp and I flowed with the rocking. Our skin stayed pressed together like it was fused from the heat and would sting if we tried to separate. We seemed joined at the loins, and the only friction I felt was deep inside me, rocking in and out. And slowly the intensity mounted. 

I started to squeeze him again, but only as he rocked into me. With each passing thrust, there was a building of energy, and with each withdrawal, more of him seemed to leave me. Finally our loins were separated, and he started to use his hips. The rocking gave way to a gentle bumping, and with each little bump, the moistness between us seemed to grow. I was pushing down on his butt with the heels of my feet, and I started to drive the rhythm. 

Then he took over. He pushed all the way into me and began to buck. I went limp again. It took all my energy just to keep my arms and legs wrapped around him. He was literally lifting me off the bed with the force of his thrusting. Yes, this was what I liked. Chest-to-chest, mound-to-mound, strong, eager thrusting, but it never felt like this before. He was marvelously, deliciously deep inside of me, and I could feel the tingling friction of every cell of my vagina. His thickness and length resonated with a powerful energy that I seemed to have miraculously trapped and stored inside of me. 

I realized at that moment that I had never experienced a full-fledged orgasm during straight sex before. It seems funny to me now because it was, and still is my favorite type of sex. And I had orgasmed during masturbation while fantasizing about straight sex. But that night, this observation came to me just as a strange, new feeling began to well up inside of me. My vaginal walls were quivering. I felt a rush of energy, and held on to Charlie and squeezed him as tightly as I could without slowing his thrusting, feeling that if I were to let go of him I would lose the sensation. I wanted to say his name.

"That's it, Charlie. Yes, Charlie. Oh, Charlie." 

And then I realized that what I really wanted was to love Charlie. I didn't want to be his fuck-friend, and we were not playing a game. This was too real. And I was suddenly scared. 

"Come on, Charlie." 

I wasn't begging for sex when I panted out his name. I didn't want him to go faster or harder. I didn't want him to ejaculate inside me. What I wanted, what I desperately needed at that precise moment was NOT to be alone. I wanted his entire being to enter mine. I wanted us to experience the intolerable ecstasy of being right here, right now, together. I could only say, "Come on, Charlie." What I meant was, "Come with me, Charlie. Come to this place we have created together, right here in the center of the universe. Feel the beating heart of life itself." 

I wanted to love Charlie. I had to pretend that I did. I didn't know this man (this shy, curious little boy). Yet, I had somehow allowed him to peek into the window of my soul. Come on in, Charlie. You might as well. 

"That's it, Charlie." 

I pretended that I was in love with him, and there he was with me, the entire universe spinning around us with an incomprehensible fury. I pretended that I told him I loved him. I pretended that he whispered "I love you, Annie" in my ear. I pretended with all my might, and I shook ferociously. 

"That's it, Charlie." I had to say something. It was all I could think to say. And then we were one.

"Oh God, Annie," was all he could reply as he ejaculated inside of me. 

He slowed, and then he was still, and then I started to cry.

I didn't want to cry. Tears just streamed from eyes. 

My mind raced. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Charlie. I'm fine." Quick, make him think it's because the sex was so great. "That was fantastic." Was I convincing?

"Are you okay?" Apparently not.

"I'm fine, really." I laughed through my tears in embarrassment. "I'm so embarrassed."

Dammit, Annie, get a hold of yourself. I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and I got a hold of myself. "It's okay. I'm just a little overwhelmed."

Charlie climbed off of me so carefully I thought he might be concerned that he was dealing with some kind of mental patient. He took a Kleenex box off my nightstand and set it on my belly. 

"Here. Please don't be embarrassed. I'm more than a bit overwhelmed myself."

"Like you said, it's a big, strange world." I wiped my eyes.

Charlie was very gentle and kind. He kissed my cheek and ran his fingers through my hair soothingly.

"Dou you still want me to stay?" 

"Do you still want to stay?" Please say yes, I thought. I didn't want to be alone.

"Yes."

We took turns going to the bathroom. While I was in the bathroom, I lokked in the mirror. My eyes were puffy. I cried again, just for a minute or two.

I fell asleep on my side with him behind me, holding me, spooning. 

The room was brilliant with sun when I first awoke. My alarm clock said 8:30. Charlie was beside me. I huddled against him and fell back to sleep. When I awoke the second time, Charlie was gone. It was almost 11:00. I pulled on some shorts and a tank top and went to the bathroom, and when I came back, Charlie was standing by my door with a mug of coffee in each hand.

"I heard you get up."

We sat on the floor of the living area of my suite. We didn't say a word about my asinine tears the night before. During the night, I had promised myself I was going to enjoy my last week in school and relax. I was still uncertain about what had happened, but I was committed not to let it bother me. We talked about little things until the conversation took an unexpected turn. 

We were talking about what a crazy summer it was turning out to be at the house, and I think he was trying to apologize for his apparent promiscuity, or maybe he was trying to make me feel better about my recent emotional display, or maybe he was trying to bond with me, but what he said was: "I'm not really into having sex with all kinds of different people all the time, you know, like Tom and Amy are."

I must have registered a look of utter befuddlement, because he gave me one of those looks that says, "Are you okay?" I was having difficulty comprehending his statement. 

"Tom is having sex with all kinds of different people?" I didn't want to say that, but I couldn't help myself. 

"You mean other than you and Amy?" 

Other than me and Amy? 

"Amy?" Dammit. I had to shut my mouth. It was becoming clear to me that my perception of the world was askew. Things were not what they seemed.

"You mean you didn't... oh shit, Annie, I thought.... Wow, am I stupid. I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's all right. I mean, I didn't know, but it doesn't really matter." Yes it did matter. I had immediately come to the conclusion that it DIDN'T matter that Amy was fucking Tom. What mattered was that I didn't know about. I felt like an idiot. It was all becoming clear to me. Amy was a slut. 

"Amy, well, she's just that way. Mike's been with her, too. And she's got a boyfriend, too." And I was feeling sorry for Charlie; he knew what he was in for. Charlie seemed genuinely upset with himself for letting the cat out of the bag. He also seemed genuinely honest when he said he thought I had known all along. Still I wondered.

I changed the subject. We talked awkwardly for a few minutes, and then he left. I had been thinking about going home for Saturday night, and now I needed some time to sort out my feelings. I packed quickly, and left. I saw Tom on the way out. I didn't know whether to be mad at him or hug him and say I was sorry for being petty. It felt strange. He smiled, and even did something that made me laugh, but I was uncomfortable. 

On the two-hour drive home I decided to forget it. I ran through the whole summer, and it should have been obvious to me (I guess). No one did anything to overtly mislead me, and maybe it really was none of my business. I was over the sex/jealousy crap. What really hurt, though, was that I felt like I had been left out. There was a dirty little secret in the house, and everyone knew about it but me. I promised myself I wouldn't let it bother me. It was good to get away for a while.

I didn't get back to the blues house until late Sunday night, and I didn't see anyone on the way to my room. It was quiet in Amy's room (they were probably all off fucking somewhere else – okay, I'll stop). My only plan for Monday was to go to the library for three or four hours, so I slept in on Monday morning. I was having a cup of coffee, reading the paper in the kitchen the when Amy came in.

"Hi." Amy seemed bright, but gauging. 

"Hey." I hardly looked up. I was uncomfortable

"Hey, can we talk for a second?"

No, go away. "Sure." I tried to seem stoic.

"Charlie kind of told me about, well... I don't know what to say except I'm sorry if I... look, Annie, I like you a lot. I guess I'm just a crazed, dick-loving fuck-slut." She said this trying to engage me in eye contact, raising her eyebrows as if to encourage me to laugh. I did.

"Amy, there's nothing to talk about." I was still uncomfortable.

"Oh no, there is. I know what you're thinking. It's not the sex; it's the deception. But it wasn't really deception. Tom is a great guy. It just never came up. I guess I thought, you know, you wanted to think of you and Tom as a couple or something. Whatever you're into, you know. I didn't want to blow that for you, but damn...." 

Whatever she was trying to say (and I think I knew more than I let on), she was being honest. 

"I guess I just want to... I hope that we can still be friends."

"We are friends." I was being honest. It was okay. How could I not be friends with her – we were fucking the same guys. As it stood, I thought I might be falling for the guy I had originally thought was hers, so why wouldn't it be okay if she had been fucking the guy I originally thought was mine. She came over to where I was sitting and bent down to hug me. I patted her back. She kissed my cheek. Then she sat down in the chair right next to me and put her hand on my knee.

"Great. Now that we've cleared that up, it is time for some girl-talk!" 

She was beaming. She was a strange bird. 

"Charlie's usually like the big blabber-mouth, but he's all mum about what happened Friday night. But I can tell that whatever happened, it was awesome. Are those guys great, or what?" 

I had no idea how to respond. She was staring hard into my eyes, encouraging me. I couldn't help myself. I smiled. 

"I knew it!" She slapped my knee. "You see, you're not so innocent after all." 

She was right, after Friday night, I had no business being self-serious or feeling put out by anyone. I did feel over it, whatever it was. 

"See, you come off as the shy, book-smart, conservative type, but I thought there was a wild streak in you. I could never get Tom to talk about you, not even the slightest hint at a detail. But Charlie, he was like the Cheshire Cat with his shit-eating grin. C'mon girl, tell me all about it." Amy was absolutely giddy, and it was infectious (yes, this was as strange as it seems).

"No." I was giggling like a schoolgirl at a slumber party talking about her first kiss. What was I going to say: "Well, then he shoved it in my ass while I was sucking Charlie's cock"? I think not. 

"Tom has never talked to you about me?" I had no idea how silly that question would sound until I actually asked it.

"No, never. Annie, you've got to know Tom's type. He's an absolute gentleman. He never kisses and tells, and he's so smooth. He's easy to fall in love with, but just when you do, you find out the truth. Just like all absolute gentlemen, while he's making you feel like the earth revolves around you, he's out fucking anything in a skirt that crosses his path." 

Her laughter came easy, and her observation seemed so dead on that I laughed with her. I was truly enjoying myself. 

"Those types are all the same. It comes easy to them. Enjoy the sex, sweetheart, but for God's sake, don't fall for one." She paused, and then added emphatically, "And whatever you do, don't marry one. The cheating bastard was born to break some sweet little girl's heart." 

"The sex is great." Did I say that?

"There you go. That's more information than Tom has ever shared with me. But then, I knew that." She paused. You bitch, I thought. "Tell me the truth, now. He's kind of got a special proclivity, if you know what I mean." 

She interpreted the look on my face correctly. 




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 07



"Ha ha... isn't that something. So you're on of those girls, huh?"

"Come on, Amy, if we are going to have this chat, let's speak English." I laughed. 

"All I meant was, there's two types of girls, those that like that kind of thing, and those that hate it." 

Was I really having this conversation? I whispered with sarcastic drama. "Oh, you mean about him fucking me in the ass." I surprised myself.

She let out a yelp of laughter. "You shameless hussy," she mocked me. We continued to whisper. "But what about Charlie? Hmm...."

"What about Charlie?" 

"Now don't bullshit me, Annie. 'What about Charlie?'" She looked at me reproachfully. "Charlie is God's gift to womankind, and you know it. I'm the one who should be jealous, you slut. He's damn near the only guy I have ever met that has made me think I might be able to settle down some day. And that's not because he's hung like a Brahma Bull." 

"That part doesn't hurt." We both paused to mull that line over, and then we both burst out laughing. "So to speak." My side hurt from trying to stifle my laughter.

Amy went back to a whisper. "Charlie is a romantic. He so sweet and... for real. You can always trust Charlie. He's like a little boy – what you see is what you get. He's just the opposite of Tom. With Charlie's type, it's the girl that has to be careful of hurting him. Women are so stupid, 'cause they never go for Charlie's type, when objectively he's exactly what they say they're looking for."

"He is sweet." I meant it.

"He's the type you want to marry. He would be devoted, and faithful, and like you said, 'it doesn't hurt.'"

"Are you trying to fix us up?"

"Hell no. I am not through with him – not yet, sweetie."

"Okay, Amy, you've lured me in. What about Mike?"

"Mike's like a kid in a candy store with me. I'm not sure sex was ever very high on his agenda." She took a breath and leaned forward. "That is, until he met me. He's very eager to please. You should try him."

Try him? "Amy, you're a hoot."

"I am serious." She looked around to make sure no one was with us. "We've got it made here, girlfriend." She leaned very close to me and whispered so lightly that I had to lean even closer to her to hear her. 

"Let's make the most of it." 

There was a pause, and then the strangest conversation I have ever had ended with a real novelty. 

She kissed my on the mouth, lusciously, provocatively. And I didn't recoil. I let her kiss me. I wasn't even thinking about it. She put her hand on my cheek, and I felt her tongue slip out and caress my lips. And I won't lie to you. I liked it.

It wasn't the first time I had kissed a member of my own sex. When I was thirteen, my then best friend and I experimented with kissing. The first time, we convinced ourselves that we were going to pretend like we were each kissing a boy. We were in my room, after school, ostensibly studying or listening to records or something. We were tentative at first, but when our lips touched we gave in. And I liked it then, too. We stopped after a brief moment, but we tried it again the next day. After a week, we were both a little too eager to get to my room and "practice." It would be inappropriate for me to go into more detail here, but suffice to say, I became suspicious of my girlfriend's motives. We started carrying our fantasy a little too far, and I began to doubt she was imagining she was with a boy, precisely because I was having a little difficulty with the concept myself. 

I became very uncomfortable with the direction our friendship was taking, and I broke off our "practice" sessions. Our friendship was never the same, unfortunately. I say unfortunately because I now know that our shenanigans were harmless. We weren't evil, or sick, or even strange. And we weren't lesbians. We were just kids. And I miss her.

So when Amy kissed me, it didn't seem unnatural or uncomfortable, and I didn't pull away. As the kiss progressed, I reminded myself that I had promised to relax, and just let whatever was going to happen happen. In less then a week, this world I now inhabited was going to disappear in my rearview mirror. I relaxed.

"You and me, girl," Amy whispered with her lips fluttering against mine, "let's make the most of it." 



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 08



This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order. In any event, the story takes place in a Midwestern college town in the summer of 1979.

*****

Amy’s kiss didn’t startle me. But when I heard someone coming down the hall and I could tell that he was coming into the kitchen, I pulled away. Amy smiled at me, and I smiled back. It was Charlie. 

“Good morning, ladies.” 

“Good morning, Charlie,” we said in unison, a bit too coyly, and we laughed. Charlie seemed a little confused at first, and then he shrugged it off.

“Well, it’s good to see you two getting along.” 

This made us laugh again. Charlie looked at us as if he were questioning our sanity. Then he looked at me as if he were trying to gauge something deep inside of me. I got up to get more coffee.

“So what is on the Blues House calendar today?” Charlie asked sarcastically.

“I’m off to the library, unfortunately,” I offered.



“I have my first exam this afternoon,” Amy replied.

“Hmm… Pretty boring stuff.” Charlie had retrieved a mug and held it out for me to fill.

“Well, you know us, Charlie. We’re pretty boring folks.” I looked Charlie in the eye, and tried to let him know that there were no “issues.”

“I’ll say,” Charlie seemed to catch my drift, and he nodded at me. “Pretty damn hot out.”

“Thanks for the report, Stormy,” Amy interrupted.

“I was going to say, maybe we should have a house picnic at the Quarry later this afternoon, or this evening.”

“The Quarry?” I had heard the term used before, but I had never bothered to determine it’s meaning.

“You haven’t been to the Quarry, have you?” Charlie seemed hurt. “Oh, we gotta go then.”

I learned that the Quarry was a relatively obscure local swimming hole that was created in an abandoned granite quarry. The mining company diverted the river to the quarry to help them process the granite. They just left it when the money ran out, and the whole quarry filled up. Charlie learned of the spot from a friend who was a local, and he had been going there since his freshman year.

“The water’s great, crystal clear. You’ll love it,” he assured me. Amy and I agreed, and Charlie said he’d see about Tom and Mike.

When I got back to the house just after 6:00 that evening, Charlie was loading up the trunk of Amy’s car.

“So, are stillyou coming?”

“Yes, of course,” I replied. 

Charlie gave me thumbs up. “You won’t regret it.” 

I decided on a one-piece suit, and put on a pair of cut-offs and a T-shirt over the top of it. I grabbed a beach towel and my sunglasses, and I was ready to go.

Tom and Mike came back from the store with a case of beer. We sat on the front porch drinking and small talking until Amy arrived, and then we were off.

We got to the Quarry while it was still light. It was a prettier area than I had pictured it. It was up a tree-lined dirt road that was only two paths through the woods. The trees were enormous and lushly green. The Quarry itself consisted of bleached-white rock that made for a startling contrast. There was a makeshift area used as a parking lot with only two cars in it. Charlie had us put all of our jewelry and money in the trunk, and then he hid the key under a log in front of the car. 

We unloaded the cooler and our towels and carried the stuff down a path through the woods alongside the Quarry. The path opened onto a flat rock landing that disappeared into the water. Charlie was right. It was crystal clear. What I hadn’t expected was the color. It was a translucent shade of lime green. 

“So, what do you think?” Charlie seemed proud of himself as he asked me his question.

“You were right, Charlie. It’s beautiful.” 

Tom and Mike pulled off their shirts and ran into the water. I helped Amy and Charlie set up our stuff, and then I hurried out of my shorts and T-shirt and ran into the water. It was the perfect temperature: refreshing, but not cold. Only ten feet or so out in thigh-deep water, the rock landing ended at a ledge where the bottom disappeared. There were only five other people in the water: three high-school-aged boys fighting over an inner tube and a thirty-something couple.

Charlie swam out to where I was treading water.

“How deep do you think it is?” I asked.

“I’ve never touched the bottom. It’s deep.” 

The sun was setting behind the trees, and the clouds were lavender trimmed in a shimmering gold. 

We swam and talked in the water for about an hour, occasionally running up onto the landing for a beer or some chips. Before we knew it, it was dark, and a full moon was rising in the east. We all got out of the water and ate our sub sandwiches. The beer was ice cold, the air was muggy, and the breeze was humid and warm. It felt great.

We were chatting in a loosely connected, collective stream-of-consciousness when Amy, looked around, and announced, “We’re alone.”

“Great!” said Charlie.

“Finally,” said Tom.

As if on cue, everyone but me stood up, took off their suits, and tiptoed out into the water stark naked. Charlie stopped and came back for me. I was tempted to reach out for his cock as it waggled in front of my eyes and pull myself up, but he offered his hand instead.

“Come on.”

“What if someone comes?” 

“This is called ‘The Skinny-Dipping Hole.’ It’s a summer’s night ritual. If someone comes, they won’t be surprised. Trust me.”

“Then why did we wait till everyone left?”

“They’re called day-stragglers. I’m hip with the lingo. When they’re gone, surf’s up. Come on.” I took his hand and stood up.

Mike and Tom had already jumped in off the ledge. Amy was standing at the ledge running her hands through her hair. The moon had just peeked over the trees, and the light radiated from her. Tom and Mike were treading water, staring at her, mesmerized, and she knew it. Her skin was taught and evenly tanned. She was trim and firm where I was round and soft, her buns were well-rounded and taught. She turned to see what I was doing. I could see she had neatly trimmed pubic hair. Her breasts were pert, but not as small as they seemed when her clothes were on. 

“C’mon, girl. The water’s perfect.” Amy turned and dove in. Charlie let go of my hand and I gave him a shrug as if to say, “What the hell.” I pulled my arms through the straps of my still damp suit and peeled it off. Charlie hooted, turned and ran into the water. I walked to the ledge, and all four of them treaded water and stared at me. The water felt perfectly warm on my feet. The sultry breeze felt warm against my skin. I jumped in.

Whenever I have found myself skinny-dipping since that night, I always think about how wonderful and sexy and natural the water from the Quarry felt, and I wish I could recreate the feeling. But I can’t. My body felt loose and fluidly flexible, like I was part of the water. Charlie dared me to swim down to where the water was colder. I probably only got ten or twelve feet below the surface, and the water was eerily cold. It was invigorating, and made the surface water seem like bath water. Charlie led us to the far end of the Quarry where there was a ledge that never came up fully out of the water. The ledge was about twenty feet long and it ended in a wall of rock that went straight up about twenty feet. 

“This is the ‘Ledge,’” Charlie announced. “It is the premium spot in the Quarry – first come, first serve.” 

Charlie pulled himself up onto the ledge and then seemed to rise up the rock wall by magic. When I looked more closely, I could see it was an optical illusion, and that there was an incline of crudely carved steps leading up to tiny perch about a third the way up the wall. Charlie stopped, looked below, cupped his genitals with both hands and jumped, plunging into the water feet first in a loud splash. 

Amy pulled herself up on the ledge and took a seat with her back to the wall. “You should take a look at the view from up there,” she said to me.

“I’m not jumping.”

“ Just take a look.”

I crawled up onto the ledge ungracefully and as Amy pointed the way, I climbed the steps. On the perch, the breeze sent a tiny chill through me, and I noticed my nakedness. I ignored it at first. There was still the faintest glow of daylight in the western sky, and I could see treetops and hills well off into the distance. I decided to enjoy being naked, standing on this pedestal, the world stretching out before me. I looked below, and the three boys we’d brought along were fixed on me. I waived. They whistled and hooted. I put my hands behind my head and swiveled my hips. More hoots. And then I saw some people coming up to the water’s edge on the far bank. If I had to guess, I would say it was the three boys with the inner tube, but I couldn’t see that well in the growing darkness.

I was about to turn around to come down when I felt Amy come up behind me. She reached around my waist, and I felt her breasts press into my back. Now I was doubly embarrassed. I was embarrassed that a group of high school boys might be ogling us, and I was embarrassed about my softness against Amy’s leanness. What startled me even more however was how these two issues captured my attention, while the fact that a naked women was embracing me from behind seemed irrelevant.

“God, I am so fat.” Oh great. Now I felt stupid. It was like I was asking, “Do I look fat in this?” while all I was modeling my own damn skin.

“Annie, you’re gorgeous.” She petted my tummy and pressed more firmly against me. 

“It is pretty up here, isn’t it?”

I looked at the water, and the moonlight seemed to be filling the pond with streaks of light that penetrated very deeply. It was beautiful.

“Do you see those boys over there?”

She took a second to look around my shoulder. “Yes.”

“Maybe we should go.” I started to turn, and she loosened her grip, but when I faced her, she slipped her arms back around me. I was truly awe struck by my casualness about this development. 

“Do you really think this is the place for this?” I whispered. 

“Forget them.” She turned her face put her head against my chest. I was more than a head taller than she was. I wanted to pull away and go down, but I thought about it again and decided to humor her. I embraced her, and she snuggled against me. She was so small, and I felt fleshy and large-than-life with her in my arms, but it felt comforting, too. She nuzzled at one of my nipples, and then took it in her mouth. “Come on, Amy, those kids are watching us.”

“Let’s jump.”

“No way.”

“I’m serious. I’ll go first.” She let go of me and took a step around me to edge of the perch.  She waived at the guys below, and then she waived at the boys across the water.

“I’ll make too big of a splash,” I said stupidly. 

“Chicken-shit.” She jumped, and her scream startled me.

Now I felt silly. It wasn’t my pride that didn’t let me take the steps back down. It was that little voice in my head saying, “Live!” Amy was clear below. I jumped.

The world rushed by. I felt like I was tipping forward and was going to belly-smack on the water. I screamed and threw my hands in the air. This righted me just as I hit the water. My breasts felt like they were pushed up to my shoulders. I went deeper than I had expected, and the cold water shocked me. I spread out my arms and legs and stopped. 

“Wow!” I blurted out as my head splashed out of the water. The guys clapped lightly. Amy shouted, “All right!”

My heart fluttered and raced. My skin tingled and puckered into a million goose bumps. “What a rush,” I beamed. 

The guys took turns jumping from the perch. Amy and I sat on the ledge discussing in hushed tones how cute Tom’s buns were and how solid and tough-seeming Mike was for a shorter guy. They all looked so adorable scampering out of the water and tiptoeing up the steps. It was like they were young boys at play in an indecent Norman Rockwell painting.

“Have you seen our little boyfriends over there?” Amy asked. I had forgotten about them. They were gone, as far as I could tell.

After awhile it seemed to cool off, and we headed back to the landing. Mike was the first to climb out of the water, and thus the first to notice our fate.

“Goddammit, our suits and clothes are gone!”

And so they were. All that remained was the cooler. Charlie opened the cooler.

“Hey, would you look at that?”

“What?” we all seemed to say in unison.

“At least they left us some beer. The shits.” Then Charlie started to laugh.

Amy and I stayed in the water while the guys scurried about bare-assed looking for any sign of life or our clothes. After a few minutes, Tom and Mike came back, grabbed the cooler, and disappeared down the path. Then Charlie appeared.

“Okay, there’s nothing. Here’s the plan. Mike and Tom are already in the car. There’s no one between here and there, not that you have much choice, so come on.” He held out both his hands.

“Come on where?” Amy spoke for both of us.

“We’ll just get in the car and go home. No big deal.”

“No way.” My turn.

“There is no Plan B.” Charlie twitched his hands as if to say, “Come on.” There was silence. .

“Let’s go,” Amy said to me.

Charlie pulled us out and we scampered over the landing and up the path. At first I was breathless, and then I started to enjoy myself. The moonlight flickered through the trees, and the crickets hummed. All of a sudden, Amy and I were giggling. Just as we got within striking distance of Amy’s car, another car’s lights illuminated the road, and we could hear its tires rolling on the dirt.

“Quick.” Charlie opened the back door. It was a big Ford LTD with cloth bench seats. Tom and Mike were already in back. Amy hopped between them.

“Annie.” Charlie was holding the driver’s side door. The new car turned into the dirt parking lot, and its lights must have hit us just as Charlie pushed me in. Charlie, Amy, and I were breathless. We all started to laugh.

“Maybe they have some towels or something we could borrow,” I offered.

“Go ahead, Annie, sashay on over there and ask ‘em,” Amy replied.

“That’d be a sight,” someone said.

“We’re fine.” 

Charlie started the car, backed up, and turned on the lights as we turned on to the road. The cooler was on the floor in front of my seat, so I sat close to Charlie (my excuse anyway). The glass was fogging up, and someone was smoking a joint, so the windows came down. I looked in back and Tom handed me the culprit joint.

We laughed and talked excitedly and passed the joint around. Charlie said he would take the country rounds around the back of the city to avoid the lights and traffic downtown. After a while we were quiet. The night air and the din of crickets filled the car. The road was empty and shrouded from the moonlight in a canopy of giant elm trees. 

“This is so cool,” I heard Amy say under her breath from the back seat. She was right. 

“Thank God you’ve got cloth seats, Amy,” Charlie said as he pushed in a tape. Springstein’s “Born to Run.” I put my head on Charlie’s shoulder.

“What a night,” I sighed.

Charlie rested his head against mine for a moment. Then he kissed the top of my head sweetly. 

“You seem to be saying that a lot lately.” 

I heard a curious commotion in the back seat and what I saw when I looked made me smile in a strangely knowing sort of way. Amy had one leg thrown over Tom’s knee on her right, and the other thrown over Mike’s knee on her left. She had a cock in each hand (the wicked bitch). She had her head turned towards Tom, and they were kissing sloppily. Mike had his hand between Amy’s legs. The funny thing I remember about this shocking picture of decadence was that Mike and Tom each had a beer cradled in their outside hand resting on the armrest. Mike then did something that oddly endeared him to me. He raised his beer and nodded at me.

“Cheers, fair Annie.”

I smiled and gave them what little privacy they had. Then I got an idea.

“Do you want a beer, Charlie?”

“Sure.” 

I took one from the cooler and pried off the cap, took a deep, long swig, and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” 

I put my head back on his shoulder, and then I put my cold, wet hand carefully between his legs. 

“Ooh,” he fidgeted, and smiled. 

I squeezed his flaccid penis. He spread his legs a little, and I petted his scrotum. 

“This IS cool,” Charlie whispered. 

Just as I anticipated, his cock rose from its slumber. He put his beer in a cup holder and put his arm around me. He stroked my side and squeezed my breast playfully. Slowly I pulled the flesh of his penis up and down over his shaft. I gripped him tightly but lovingly, and I watched with calm amazement as his penis grew in my hand. 

“How much longer?” I whispered close to his ear.

“A few more inches,” he said. I giggled and squeezed his penis with authority.

“You know what I mean.”

“Oow… about forty minutes. Jeez…”

I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “That’s quite a while.”

“In dog years, maybe… oow!” 

I squeezed his member again. “Keep your mind on the driving, guy.” 

I went to work on his erection with a little more diligence. What a spectacular piece of equipment the good Lord blessed this boy with, I thought. I was glad I was in the front seat. I heard a moan and a sound of someone throwing a beer can out the window from the back seat and unable to contain my curiosity I looked. 

Amy was now straddling Tom. She reached behind her and guided his cock to its destination. She was little enough not to have to bump her head against the roof as she bounced up and down on him. I watched for a moment, staring at the spot where their genitals met. It aroused me. I looked at Mike, and I felt sorry for him, sitting there with his dick pointing straight up in the air.

“That’s littering, you know,” I said looking at Mike in a way so he would know I was talking to Tom.

“I’ll get it later, promise,” Tom mumbled.

“You all right?” I asked Mike.

He raised his beer again. “Just enjoying a little night air.” 

I settled back into my former endeavor. Tom and Amy got a little louder with each passing mile. Charlie was rock hard. The Boss was wailing. I slipped down, avoiding the steering wheel with my head, and put the tip of Charlie’s penis in my mouth. Because of the cooler, I couldn’t get my legs situated, so I settled on kneeling on the seat despite the fact that this meant my ample, lily-white ass was sticking up in the air for the world to see. As I nodded up and down on Charlie, I started to enjoy the breeze wafting and swirling between my legs. Charlie clenched my airing ass with his free hand. 

Tom and Amy were really going at it. Poor Mike, I thought. I hoped Amy would make sure he got his. Tom was going to come (I could tell). The slapping of skin and grunting and groan rose to a crescendo. “Jungleland” did likewise. And then it quieted, and I could hear a little slurp as Amy dismounted. Charlie tickled my asshole with a finger, and I went to work in earnest on his dick.

All of a sudden we were slowing down. I started to come up and Charlie said, “It’s all right, I’ve just got to pull over here for a second and take care of something.” I wanted to come up and look, but Charlie kept his hand on the back of my head. I heard gravel, and felt the car turn, and within a few moments we stopped.

“Stay right there and don’t move, Annie.” Charlie opened his door and hustled out of the car. 

What the hell was he doing? I came up on all fours and looked in back. Amy was already sitting next to Mike, stroking his neglected unit. 

“Don’t move,” Charlie cajoled as he trotted around the front of the car, looking ridiculous streaking through the headlights. Amy was laughing. I looked back and Mike wiggled his fingers at me to say hi. 

Charlie climbed in to the car behind me with the clear intent of fucking me from behind. He was humorously over-anxious.  I had to put my head back down on to the seat to make room for him, and I could hear his head bouncing off the roof of the car and his knee banging on the cooler. There was chuckling from the backseat. It was a big car, but we were too big for this. 




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 08



“Charlie, this isn’t going to work.” I tried to turn over. Charlie backed out of the car. Sitting up, I scooted to the end of the seat with my legs out the door, trying to spead them to accommodate the poor boy. Charlie was standing holding the door open, and his erection was at eye level. I took his cock in hand and stroked while I gave the situation some consideration. I looked around. The road was desolate and empty.

“Here.” I pushed him back and went around the door to the front fender. I backed up to the fender and found that by standing on my tiptoes I could rest my ass on top of it. Charlie came up to me.

“Do you want to fuck me, Charlie? Is that what this is about?” I asked rhetorically. I grabbed his dick and pulled him up close to me. “You’ve got to eat me out first,” I whispered when his face was close to mine. 

I put my hands behind me, palms down on the warm hood of the car. Charlie kneeled in front of me on the dirt and gravel, kissing my tummy and my pubic mound and the inside of my thighs. I leaned back a little farther and pulled my feet up and rested them on his shoulders, legs splayed. I tilted my head back and looked up to the sky. Long, thin clouds surrounded a yellow moon. I looked into the car and I could see Amy was straddling Mike now. Tom waived at me this time. 

Charlie took my whole twat into his mouth, and his flat, strong tongue ran up and down the length of it. He moved from that to puckering his lips around my clit and pulling it into his mouth, sucking at it as if it were diminutive penis. I leaned back on my elbows and watched him work. He looked up at me and I beamed at him. Behind him there was a short field that ended with looming, dark trees. There were a few bugs, but I ignored them. If it wasn’t for the moon, I thought, it would have been almost impossible to see anything. 

I laid back flat on the hood. It was like a heating pad from the glow of the engine beneath, and it warmed me to the bone. I stared at the stars and I thought about how wonderful it was to have a sensitive, sensual body in a universe so vast.  I closed my eyes and gave myself to the night breeze and this warm spot and to the dampness between my legs. 

My legs tired from their position and I lifted them up into the air in a V. I let them fall and spread as far as I could with no pain, and surprised myself at how wide they could go. Charlie reached up and grabbed the backs of my knees to support me. I put my hands behind my head and luxuriated in the heat and the sensual slurping. As wonderful as I felt, I could tell I wasn’t going to come, and I started to yearn for Charlie’s cock inside of me. I wasn’t sure how we were going to accomplish it, but I suspected he was eager enough that we would figure out a way. I touched his forehead to signal he could come up for air.

“Mmmm…,” I moaned contentedly to let him know how nice that was. 

He stood up and helped me stand up. We kissed, and his mouth was still hot from me, and I tasted the salty, oily musk of myself. I reached for his penis, and it was hard and long, pointing straight up between us. I turned us around and pushed him till his butt and thighs pressed against the fender. I squatted in front of him, knees out, and took his pulsing cock into my mouth. I held on to his cock with one hand as I nodded and sucked at it, and I put my other hand against my gaping, sopping pussy and rubbed it. I was about to fall over from the stress on my legs, and I knew what he really wanted, so I came up.

“Get up on the hood.” I must have had an idea. He hopped up on the hood, and I pushed him back until his only knees hung over the fender. I crawled up onto the hood straddling him and pushed him down on his back. I marveled at how high I had to position myself to bring my sex down onto his. The hood was hard against my knees, and I noticed a small ridge running across the middle of my calves as I settled in, but it didn’t hurt. I pressed both hands down on his chest and rode him.

“Does that feel better?” I pouted teasingly.

“Annie, I’ve been waiting for this moment and wondering if it would ever happen again after you left on Saturday. God, you are so gorgeous, and sexy, and…”

“Shh…” I hushed him. He’d obviously been thinking about saying that. He started to speak, and I shushed him again. “Just relax.”

I rode him slowly, savoring each movement and every sensation. Crickets filled my ears and moonlight filled my eyes and the damp air caressed my skin and Charlie filled me completely. I put my hands on either side of his head and brought my face down close to his.

“This is nice,” he started, but I wanted only to hear the sounds of the night and I put a finger to his lips. He took a nipple from one of my free-swinging breasts into his mouth. I lifted my head and arched my back, and I started to bounce with more vigor. He alternated between breasts until my arms got tired, and I had to bring my chest down to his. He held me tight and I rocked over him. 

Tom got out of the car. He closed the door and came up behind us. He stopped and watched, and the thought of him watching excited me. I pushed myself up, arched my back, and I began to ride Charlie with more vigor. I came up on my knees, almost to an all-fours position, in order to allow all but the head of Charlie’s penis to escape me, and then I pushed down hard on him, taking all of him inside me, feeling the head of his cock press against my womb. 

Charlie grabbed me firmly about the waist and began to raise and lower me, and then I felt Tom’s hands take a tight grip on my ass cheeks. Tom and Charlie started to lift me up and drive me down on Charlie’s cock, and I went limp, relaxing in their strong hands. Charlie slid under me, so that his ass got to the edge of the fender and his feet could touch the ground, and then Tom reached around my chest in a kind of bear hug. My head was next to Tom’s, and I could rest the back of my head on his shoulder. I wrapped my legs around Charlie, resting my heels on the hood, and leaned back into Tom, and Tom started to lift me and then push me down on Charlie. Tom was very strong, and forceful, and he was supporting all of my weight and in complete control of my motion. I closed my eyes and relaxed even more as Tom wielded me like I was a doll. Charlie grabbed me by the hips. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I put them on top of Charlie’s. His hands were tensely flexed and hard to my touch. As Tom pushed me down, Charlie would thrust up and in to me. I allowed myself to be ravaged in this way, and I pictured the scene as taking place in a humid jungle. I was the virginal sacrifice, and Tom and Charlie were savage natives having there way with me. I moaned and whimpered, and they became more forceful, pounding away at me.

My ass thudded into Charlie time after time, and now the whole car was shaking with the force of the fucking. I didn’t want it to stop, but Tom began to tire. 

“Wait,” Tom gasped for air. 

Charlie pushed me away from him, off of his massive cock, and a part of me wanted say, “Wait, don’t stop, come on guys, we were just getting it going,” but I refrained. Some celestial virgin I was. Tom set me down. I took Charlie’s wet prick in my hand and stroked it. 

“Come on Charlie. Do you still want to fuck me?”  

My, was I getting bold and comfortable with “all this.” I felt like Tom and Charlie were my own personal sex training team. I wanted to feel Charlie inside of me. 

“Here.” Bending over, I put my palms down flat on the hood of the car and stuck my ass out, and Charlie got the hint through all its subtlety. He came up behind me and rubbed his dick against my cheeks and then up and down the crack of my ass, and then pulling on my hips he poked it into me. He wasn’t slow, and he certainly wasn’t gentle, and I marveled at how receptive I was to the entire length of him. I seemed to be growing accustomed to his size. I pushed down on the hood of the car as he thrust into me, and again the car was shaking. Amy and Mike got out of the car, and Amy positioned herself exactly as I was on the other side of the car.

“Come on, Mikey,” I heard Amy command. 

Mikey? I started to laugh. Mike entered her from behind, and soon we had the car rocking to our rhythm. 

Amy smiled at me. 

“Hey Mikey! He likes it!” I said, still laughing, and Amy started to laugh. 

After a few minutes, Amy put her elbows on the hood and put her chin in one hand and looked at me like she was bored. Mike picked up his pace and really started bucking into her. I smiled, and she winked at me. Mike was coming, and Amy braced herself more firmly and pushed back into him when he came. Tom was leaning against the door of the car, watching us.  

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Amy blurted out. 

Just then a car turned off the main highway onto the dirt road, and its headlights spotlighted us. Before we could move, police flashers ignited on the roof of the car. There was one brief blip from the siren.

“Oh shit!” Charlie bellowed. We made a mad scramble to get into the car. The police car pulled up behind us. I was in a panic at first, until I realized there was really nothing to do but cover myself up with my hands and arms as best I could. Charlie was still cussing under his breath. The police car door opened and there was the crush on the gravel from the police officer’s steps. He had a flashlight, and he was flicking his light around the inside of the car. 

“Just stay calm,” Tom said from the back seat. 

“Wholly cow,” we heard the officer mumble. 

“I can explain this,” Charlie offered with a nervous twitch in his voice. 

The officer was peering at me through the passenger side window, shining his light up and down my body. Then he looked in back. Charlie was sitting like a choirboy with his hands in his lap, pushing his penis down.

“Go on, then,” the cop said.

“We got our clothes stolen while we were skinny-dipping at the Quarry.”

“And so you all thought you would just go out for a ride?” He was staring at Amy in back now. I looked over my shoulder and saw Amy making no effort to conceal herself. 

“There really wasn’t anything else we could do. We were just going to go home.”

“And you had to stop, huh?” The cop realized he was leering and looked away.

“Well, uh…” Charlie seemed stumped.

“All right, everyone out of the car,” the officer said as he stood up. We were silent and still. Then the officer burst into laughter. 

“Oh Christ, this is a hoot. I’m just kidding. I can’t very well drag you off to the station. That’d be more commotion than it was worth.” He paused. “Though it’d be pretty damn funny.” He looked back into the car at me. “I suppose that’s where you ought to go.”

“The station?” Charlie was incredulous, and now I started to laugh.



“No, fool. Home.” He kept looking at me like he was waiting for my effort to cover myself to fail. I smiled at him and damn if I didn’t let the arm over my breasts fall to my lap. There’s an eyeful, soldier, I thought to myself. He winked at me and stood up. 

“Go on home, kids. And this time, no stops.”

“Yes sir,” Charlie replied dutifully, and started the car.

When we got on the highway, we were all laughing hysterically.

“He’ll be jerking off for a week over that,” Tom said amidst the laughter.

“No stops,” Charlie mimicked the officer. 

“No sir.”



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 09



This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order. In any event, the story takes place in a Midwestern college town in the summer of 1979.

*****

When we got back to the Blues House it was about midnight. We all ran from the car into the house in a mad dash, naked and flush. When we got to the foyer, Charlie shouted “Shower time,” and ran to his room. I scurried upstairs with Amy. When we got to the top of the landing, we were both blushing and laughing. I was about to head to my room when she took my hand.

“Wasn’t that about the most hilarious thing ever?”

I pulled my hand from hers and reached up with both hands to undo my ponytail, and realized I was all but thrusting my tits into Amy’s face by doing so. 

“As the officer said, that was a hoot.” 

Amy took me around the waist, and I didn’t resist. I put my arms around her and we kissed. Her mouth was so much smaller than what I was used to that the kiss felt strangely indecent. Amy massaged my butt cheeks and let her fingers slip into my crease. She spread my fleshiness and allowed her fingertips to tickle my bumhole. I felt dirty and scandalous and adventuresome and I willed my hand to go between her legs, and I rubbed her twat until my fingers and palm were wet with her secretions. I moved behind her, out of her grasp now, and I put both hands in front of her and pulled her ass up against my pubic mound. I wanted my fingers to get even wetter, and I knew she was lubricated with two loads of the boys’ cum, so I pawed at her pussy and plied it with both hands, and she was soaking slippery. I rubbed the wetness against her labia and over her mound.

“All this nakedness can really get a girl juicy,” Amy purred.  She rubbed her hands over mine and over herself. “Let’s get into that shower.”

I got a towel and started to put on a robe, but decided against it. Amy was right; all this nakedness was titillating. When I got to the shower, Amy and I were the only ones there. She was already under the water, lathering herself.

“Now where were we,” she said coyly. I wanted to run my hands over her nakedness and the wet heat of her sex again, and I came up behind her, and we picked up exactly where we left off, only this time we were slippery with soap and our skin was hot from the water. I rubbed her pussy with both hands and pinched her folds of flesh delicately between my forefingers. We positioned ourselves so the water concentrated and flowed over my hands while I worked at arousing and pleasuring and cleaning her.

“Oh, scrub me up good, Annie.” 

I moved to her side and took my hand from in front and moved it to her ass. I rubbed my soapy hand down the crack of her ass and let my fingers linger at her anus and press against it.  Tom and Charlie came in, and were careful not to disturb us. Amy took a soapy hand and rubbed my ass, and pulled my mound up against her hip.  My hands met between her legs and fingers from each hand slipped inside her. She groaned, and pressed her forefinger stiffly against my slippery bumhole. I groaned.  We kissed, hard and deep. 

Mike came into the shower room. The men began to shower, and they watched, and they began soaping and stroking their stiffening penises.  Amy and I turned to face each other. I spread my legs enough to lower me close to her level, and we pulled ourselves together so that the top her pubic mound pressed against my clitoris. We rubbed against each other, breasts against breasts, kissing, or more like sucking each others mouths and tongues as we kneaded and spread each others butt cheeks with our hands.

Amy slid down my body and got on her knees, and while gripping my ass she kissed and tickled and sucked at my clit.  I felt faint. I watched the men as they watched us, each one tugging at himself vigorously. I reached for my own pussy and spread it for Amy, and she lapped at my clit and twisted it with her lips and flicked it with her tongue, and I watched the three men flailing at there soapy erections and gaping at me, the steam swirling about us, and I came in a twitching, tingling bundle of electric nerves.

“Oh I can’t wait any longer,” Amy said standing up. “Let’s go to my room,” 

Then she leaned into me and whispered in my ear. “I have a wonderful idea I think you are going to love.”

We all rinsed off and dried off quickly. There was a nervous energy to the group that was infectious. We had been running around naked for two and a half hours, and it was like the headiness and freedom of it was spinning us in air. There was laughing and pinching and playful swatting, and at one point I gave Mike a little tug on his penis, just let him know we were friends. Part of me wondered whether I was being too playful, and that I should be worried about something, but I wasn’t exactly sure what. I felt safe around these people, and I wanted to share myself with them.

When we got to Amy’s suite, she directed the guys to be seated in the living area and took me by the hand into her bedroom. “One second, guys,” Amy said. I looked at Charlie and Tom and Mike and smiled and waived facetiously. Tom and Charlie were seated at opposite ends of the couch, and Tom took the desk chair.

“I want to show you something,” she said once we were in her bedroom. She turned on the stereo and then pulled open a drawer of the dresser.

“What’s that,” I asked with partially mock and partially real fear in my voice. 

“It’s a strap on dildo,” she whispered to me. “I want you to fuck me with it, that is, if you want to.” She motioned to me to step closer to her, and I did, curious. She held the base of the dildo part against my pubic mound, showing me where it would go. “I bet the guys would like to see that?”

I looked down at my crotch and there was a plastic, flesh-colored dildo with a penis-like head extending from my pubic hair. There was an extension that went between my legs with a small bulb on it. The harness was soft leather, and the straps fastened around the waist and each leg with two rings.

“Do you want to try it on?” Amy suggested more than she asked.

“I don’t know.” 

I took the penis part in my hand. It was softer than I had expected. I inspected how it fit. There were ribs and bumps on the section that connected the bulb to the penis, for clitoral stimulation I assumed. Amy kissed my neck and ran a hand over my ass.

“Pretty please?” she begged, and began to suckle at one of my nipples. It felt wonderful. I was interested in trying it on. I figured I didn’t have to use it if I didn’t want to. 

“Okay,” I said, and Amy looked up at me and smiled.

“Here, I’ll put it on, just spread your legs a little bit.” Amy took the bulb end into her mouth, wetting it. Then she kneeled in front of me. I spread my legs as she requested, and she began to lick my twat, moistening me. I was starting to feel like this was getting to be uneventful to me, like I could walk around naked all day and stick my cunt in anyone’s face and expect to be pleasured. That would be a world. But the dildo thing was definitely new, and I was intrigued. 

Amy positioned the device on me, and the bulb slipped into my vagina comfortably, and I could feel the ribs and bumps on my clit as she moved it back and forth, settling it in. Then she did something interesting. She took the end of the penis in her mouth and held it in position against my mound while she reached behind me with both hands and attached the waist harness. I swear that the sight of her holding the tip of what was ostensibly my penis in her mouth gave me goose bumps. 

“Mmm…” I heard myself moan not so much with pleasure, but with surprised curiosity. She let the penis go and fastened the leg harnesses, leaning back on her heels.

“Ta da!” Amy seemed pleased. 

I took the penis in my hand and pushed down on it slightly. The ribs and the bumps and the bulb felt good. I liked it. 

“Come on, take a look.” Amy stood up and directed me over to the wall mirror with her hands on my hips, standing behind me. I looked in the mirror. There I was, and I was definitely all-women – my wide hips, my plump breasts, and my long honey-blonde hair full and wavy. But somehow the penis didn’t look wholly inappropriate. It was like I was wearing black panties with a hole in the crotch, and I had whipped out a large, erect penis for the world to see. 

“Wow!” I heard myself say without thinking.

“You like it. See, I told you.” Amy peeked around my shoulder. She reached down from my hip with one hand and grabbed the penis. I tried to imagine feeling what it would be like, and I felt like I probably wouldn’t mind having a penis. Not all the time, of course, but right then I liked the idea of having a penis. The harness was relatively tight, and when she stroked my penis, the motion translated to a firm grind against my pussy, the bulb easing into my vagina slowly and sensually.  

“Hey guys,” Amy called out, and I was about to shush her. “Come and see Annie.”  “Amy?!” I protested mildly, but when they came to the door of the bedroom I actually found myself turning towards them holding out my hands to model my new accouterment. 

“Cool,” Charlie blurted out.

“Wow, you’re hung like Charlie there, Annie,” offered Tom. 

It wasn’t that big. Mike just smiled. 

Amy was still standing directly behind me, and again she whispered in my ear. “Let’s give them a show they won’t forget.” She motioned to the guys as if she was shooing them away. 

“Back to your seats, boys. Out.”

The guys backed out of the room, leaving their eyes on me for as long as they could till they turned to take their seats. 

Amy took my hand. “Come on.” 

When I walked, I had to waddle perceptibly, and the penis wagged and bobbed with each step. I couldn’t help but laugh. I felt ridiculous and yet sexual at the same time. I held on to the penis to steady it. Amy led me out to the middle of the room. 

She turned to face me, and then she got down on her knees and knelt in front of me. She put one hand between my legs, palm up, and pressed the bulb into me. With her other hand she pointed the penis into her mouth and started to taste it. I watched her work and a strange detachment came over me. She licked the length of me, and I swear I could feel it. I wanted her to suck me, and she did. She took my new cock into her mouth more than half way, and began to work me. Her lips traveled up and down my shaft. I could tell she was good at this. I watched her and I could tell how wonderful it would feel, how wonderful it felt, and I moaned.

“That’s it,” I said. “Suck me, Amy.” I was beginning to enjoy myself. 

Tom got up, and I wondered what he was going to do. He handed me an open, ice-cold bottle of beer.

“Guy’s got to have a beer while he’s getting some head,” he said to me. 

I took it, and I was thirsty, and I took a long draw and threw it down. Tom returned to his seat. Amy’s effort became more intense. Her head worked back and forth with gusto. I watched her carefully. For an instant I thought maybe I could learn something, and then the oddest thought occurred to me. Why would I want to learn anything about giving head? I’m a guy. 

I took another drink of beer. I started to thrust my hips in rhythm with her nodding. I looked over at the guys. Mike was masturbating quite obviously. Tom was drinking a beer and cupping his penis. Charlie smiled at me, his erection pointed at me. I looked back down at Amy and I took up some of her hair in my free hand.

“Ooh, you are good, bitch.” Maybe I was getting into this too much. No. I didn’t care. If I was going to be a guy for a while, I was damn well going to enjoy it. 

I thrust into her face and pulled her hair and took another swig of beer. Amy’s hand, the one between my legs, was wet with my juices, and she began to finger my anus while she sucked at my dick. 

“Yeah, mmm….” I closed my eyes and tried to think what I would want to do if I were a guy. I imagined my erection aching and swelling, the finger against my ass bringing a rush of more blood to my genitals.

“Fuck me, Annie., I heard Amy’s voice. “Fuck me from behind.” 

I looked down and Amy was holding my penis against her cheek, pleading with me. My cock was glistening wet and I thought of how hot it was.  “I’ll fuck you, bitch. Turn around and show me your ass.” Did I say that?  I took another swill of beer, finishing it, and tossed it aside. Amy crawled around and stuck her ass up in the air directly in front of me. Her tan lines provided a sharp contrast, and her cheeks were firm. It was a beautifully tight little ass. I got down on my knees. I could see her pink little anus puckered and pulsing. I put my finger against the opening to her vagina, and it was damp and receptive, and my finger slipped inside of her. I put my thumb against her anus and pressed down, teasing her. 

“In my pussy. Fuck me in my pussy. Please Annie.” 

I toyed with her. I rubbed her clit. I grabbed hold of my cock and stroked it and pressed the tip against her clit. I rubbed the head all over her wetness, and each time my cock head slid past her opening, she tried to push back on me. I wanted to fuck her, but I took my time. I stuck my dick between her legs, pressing it against her mound, and she came up on all fours and arched her back so that the length of me rubbed her clit as I thrust. 

“I want to feel you inside of me. All of you.”

“You will,” I said harshly. I was feeling rough and powerful. I put the tip of my cock against her opening. I grabbed her by the hair as I pushed my way into her. I went half way, pulled back, and then thrust myself deep inside of her till my hips bumped against her ass. She cried out something, I didn’t hear her. 

“Like this, bitch?”  “Oh, yes Annie.” 

I grabbed hold of her hips and began thrusting and pounding in to her, and she groaned and squirmed and rocked underneath me. With each slam, my genitals exploded with warmth. I put one knee up, out to the side, to steady my balance, and I was able to bang into her more vigorously. Amy screamed out now.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck me!” She was twitching convulsively, and rocking on all fours, slamming back into me with more effort than I was slamming into her. 

“Oh God, I’m coming, I’m coming.” 

I tightened my grip on her hips till my fingers turned white. 

Amy went limp. Her head went back down on the carpet. I slowed my pace to a gentle rock. She pulled away from me and rolled over onto her back. She smiled at me.

“Is that it?” I wanted to know. Amy pulled her knees up and spread her legs and gestured for me to come to her.  I crawled over to her, and then on top of her, until my breast swayed and brushed against hers. She leaned up, and I kissed her, and I let my weight down on top of her. 

“That’s what I like,” she breathed heavily into my ear, “a guy with a perpetual hard on for me.”

I entered her again. I pushed myself back up on my hands and I leaned into her. She grabbed my back, and her nails scratched into my skin. I dropped my head down, and we were perfectly face-to-face, and we kissed passionately.  She wrapped her legs around me and pushed her heals into the small of my back and I thought to myself how many times I had done the same thing, and now I knew how it felt, and I liked it.  

I brought my knees up so I could sit back on my heels, and I rocked into her. I could lean down now and suckle at her breasts comfortably, and I did so. She brought her knees up high, and spread her legs very wide, and I thought about how vulnerable and warm she was, and how kind she was to let me inside of her. She closed her eyes and purred. She grabbed my ass and pulled me into her. I thrust into her with all my might. I grabbed her thighs and continued humping.

“Like that?”

“Fuck me, Annie, fuck me harder.”

I stretched out my legs and pressed down on top of her and we held each other tightly as I slammed my penis, my big, hard cock in and out of her. 

“O yes, yes!!!” Amy was coming spasmodically, writhing like she was in pain under me. I did that to her, I thought. I fucked her good!

“My turn,” she whispered in my ear after we were quiet for a while. I wanted it to be her turn, and without speaking I sat up, unbuckled the harness, and handed it to her. I felt a sense of relief. I wanted to be me again. I wanted to be the woman. I watched as Amy strapped on the penis like she had done it a hundred times.  “What do you want me to do?” I asked meekly, settling in to my new, more feminine personality. Amy was up on here knees, holding her new penis, checking to make sure it was secure. The penis looked much bigger on her than it did on me, I thought. She looked like a little boy with a giant erection. She was cute.

“Get on all fours,” she said matter-of-factly, and I turned around and did as I was told. I spread my legs wide. She placed her small hands on my large ass and shuffled up to me and pushed her penis against my twat, and when she entered me I was pleased at how much more than the bulb the penis filled me. 

I looked over at the guys, and each of them was masturbating. Tom had moved closer, and was sitting on his heels, stroking himself energetically. Amy picked up her pace, until she felt like a jackhammer. I couldn’t believe the power of her thrusting given her size. I went down on my elbows and put my face against the floor and moaned.

“A little payback, eh bitch?” I heard Amy say, and I smiled. 

“Go for it, stud boy,” I replied.

She got even rougher, and I thought of how much stronger I was than her, and how odd that was under the circumstances. And then I had an urge to show her who was boss in this fuckfest. I crawled away from her and turned around on my knees and took her by the shoulders.

“I want to be on top,” I said, looking her in the eye. She smiled.

“That could raise some new gender confusion issues.” We both laughed.

I kissed her, and stroked her back, and pushed her down onto her back. I straddled her, and kissed her again. I guided her penis into me. 

At first I thought I had never been on top of a person so small, and then I realized that I had just been on top of her moments ago. It was completely different this time. I was the woman, and I felt like a woman – a lot of woman. I was a giantess, and Amy was my slave, my servant, my little cabana boy and his perpetual erection. She stroked my breasts just the way I would have imagined my little cabana boy would have done it. I liked the cabana boy idea, and I rode her and hummed with pleasure. 

I leaned down close to her and whispered to her, “I am a rich white bitch, and you are my little cabana boy.” 

“I like it,” Amy replied.

My tits swung just above my little cabana boy’s face face, and he took them into his mouth, one after the other, expertly kneading my nipples and caressing my areolas with his tongue.  

I rode him, and again I felt sexy and powerful and dominant. 

I looked up, and Tom was in front of me, squeezing and rubbing his member. My trance was broken. I pouted at him, feeling sorry for his state of neglect. He looked down at his dick and back up at me, as if to say, “Please help me.” I smiled. He started to scoot over to where we were, and I didn’t know what he was going to do. 

When he was next to us, with his knees almost at Amy’s head, he got up off his heels and his penis came right up to my face. I not sure this is what I wanted, but I figured I was in a give-and-take situation. He didn’t push his dick into my face; he just stroked it pleadingly. I pushed myself up on straight arms and licked my lips. I guess this meant I was ready to taste him. 

He took it that way and held me with a hand on each shoulder, steadying me. I took his dick into my mouth, my head sideways at first, mouthing the length of him. He was salty and hot. I got situated with him in my mouth, my lips around his shaft, and as I rocked on Amy’s penis I sucked Tom’s. Amy continued to suck my breasts. She took Tom’s balls in one hand and squeezed. Tom started to groan. I started to get a rhythm.




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 09



“Wait,” Tom said, and he pushed my head away gently, familiarly.  

“Keep going, you two,” Tom said as he got up. He disappeared into Amy’s bedroom for a moment and then returned and stood behind us. I looked over my shoulder, and Tom was rubbing his erection with what appeared to be a liberal amount of Vaseline. 

“I bet he’s going to stick it in your ass,” Amy offered between slurps as she sucked at my breasts. She was a funny girl. I wasn’t too sure about this. 

Tom crouched down behind us on all fours. Amy put her arms around me and pulled me down on top of her. I rested on my elbows. Amy’s small hands grabbed the ample cheeks of my ass, close to my anus and spread them. Then I felt Tom’s tongue flit about, his nose pressed into the crack of my ass, and I felt faint. Amy bucked into me, and Tom pushed his whole mouth against me, and I could feel my puckered and sensitized bumhole relax. As Amy withdrew her penis, I could feel Tom’s tongue enter me. As she pushed into me, I could feel Tom’s tongue slipping away.

“Oh please, mmmm….” I was moaning. I pushed down hard on Amy, wiggling my ass against Tom’s tongue and mouth, settling Amy’s shaft deep inside me, till I felt my clit against Amy’s pubic mound. 

We gyrated while Tom lapped at me. Tom grabbed my ass over Amy’s hands, and his hands were wet and cool with jelly. His tongue wandered down, and he licked at me where Amy was penetrating me. He slid his thumb gently into my butt, gripping me as he did. 

“Oh shit,” I said again. I was nervous, and hot, and sweaty, and excited. I knew he was going to stick his dick in my ass, and I wanted him to. I wanted to feel the fullness. All four hands on my ass were slippery with jelly, pulling and pressing into my flesh. Tom’s tongue was gone. I sighed and tried to ease the tension of my muscles. His thumb dipped deep inside me, and he knew that I was ready. 

The length of his oily shaft pressed against my ass. He pulled at the cusp of my anus with his thumb. The head of his penis pressed into me. I let out a little cry.

“It’s okay, baby,” Amy whispered from between my swinging breasts. “Just let go.”

As he pushed into me I fell forward, all but smothering Amy beneath me. With just the head of his cock inside of me Tom began to wiggle about. I laughed.

“That’s it, baby.” At least Amy could breath.

The sensation warmed me, and I felt the familiar glow exuding from my loins. He slipped further into me, and I could feel Tom’s penis press against Amy’s dildo. They filled me, and the warmth ached. He felt more than halfway into me, and then he pulled back slowly, and as he did he pulled me back down onto Amy’s penis, and the feeling was wildly unfamiliar. 

Carefully, the three of us worked into a rhythm. As Tom would press into me, Amy would withdraw. When the rhythm was perfect, we picked up the pace. The friction between my legs was spectacular. It felt like all my sensations were colliding and melting into one fiery ball inside of me. 

My chin was against the top of Amy’s head. I kissed her hair. It smelled of soap and perfume. Tom was driving the rhythm. He was in control. He rocked into me with more vigor. , I could feel both Amy and myself go limp. 

“Doesn’t that feel good?” Amy asked in drawn out syllables in my ear. 

I had to push myself up on my hands to give Amy some room. I looked down at her. My breasts were bumping her chin. I pushed one against her mouth, and she sucked at it ferociously. She withdrew her slippery hands from my ass cheeks and gripped my tits, and spread the Vaseline all around. She rubbed her hands down my sides, and Tom rubbed his hands up my back, making my skin slick. Amy’s hands slid down my belly. I pulled up to give her hands access to me. She pulled at my pubic hair. She rubbed my mound and my clit with her oily fingers. Tom pushed into me, and slowly withdrew, then pushed harder, and more slowly withdrew. Then he wiggled again. And then he humped me. I was dripping with sweat. My ass hurt. 

“Ouch.” My pain fell on deaf ears. Tom worked me harder.

“Fuck her hard,” Amy shouted. 

The pain in my ass turned to heat, then disappeared, and only the wild sensations of fullness and friction and fire remained. Tom started to shout. 

“Oh Jesus,” he said. 

He was going to come. I was going to faint. The heat and fullness was too much. I crawled away from both of them, and they slipped out of me, and the fullness was gone, but the heat remained.

“Oh fuck, Annie.” Tom sounded wounded. Amy laughed. I rolled to my side and tried to catch my breath. 

“Poor baby,” Amy pouted. “Here, let Amy help you.” 

I was spent. My loins were on fire. My whole body ached. My hair was matted against my face. I was smeared with Vaseline.

Tom was left straddling Amy on all fours. Amy stroked Tom’s greasy cock with a greasy hand, and pressed the other one against his taught ass. She flailed at him. “Come for Amy,” she said in all earnestness. I had to admire her. Amy slid down so that the head of Tom’s penis at her chin. The jelly made a strange clicking sound as she stroked him furiously.

“I’m going to come, I’m coming.” Tom was shaking. 

And then Amy did the most amazing thing. She stuck the head of Tom’s greasy cock into her mouth and sucked at it as he came, the cock that had just been balls-deep in my ass.

“Oh my god!” I cried out. She was really, truly crazy.

“Oh sweet! Oh my sweet, baby.” Tom was in ecstasy.

Amy was swallowing and sucking at the head of Tom’s dick as if she didn’t want to miss a drop. Then she coughed and started to laugh.

“Your crazy,” I blurted out unintentionally.

“You’re a hypocrite.” She looked at me and smiled, her lips shimmering with jelly. Tom rolled off of her. She got up and took the strap on off. “All right, somebody fuck me.”

I couldn’t help it. “Well, nobody’s going to KISS you, that’s for goddamn sure.” 

The room broke out in laughter. Tom rolled on his back, gripping his soiled, spent penis, tears in his eyes. Amy wiped her mouth and stood looking at Charlie and Mike, all three of them laughing, and believe it or not, I think Amy was blushing. 

Amy went to her mini-fridge and pulled out a beer, twisted the top off, took a long drink, set it down, and then bent over with her hands on the arms of a chair in the corner, her perky little ass pointed right at the seated gentlemen.  “Very funny. So, is somebody going to fuck me, or what?”

Mike hopped up, hard dick in hand. Charlie stayed seated, hard dick in hand. I was on the floor, tired, greasy, thinking of something else funny, so I said it.

“I guess I now know what it means to be ‘totally fucked.’” 

I rolled my eyes at Charlie. He blurted out more laughter. Mike positioned himself behind Amy, spread his legs wider than hers to lower himself, pushed into Amy rather deftly, and started to fuck her as she had requested.

“Harder,” Amy commanded, and Mike complied. 

Tom got up, said something about a shower, and left the room.

Casually, I got up. I almost couldn’t stand straight. My muscles felt loose. I looked at Charlie. “Beer?”

“Sure.”

I got up, crossed behind the mating couple, patted Mike on his bumping rump, and pulled two beers from the mini-fridge. I then sat down next to Charlie. 

“Here, you open them, I don’t think I could do it.” Charlie took his hand off his cock and I handed him the beers. He handed an open one back to me and I curled up next to him.

“So, how are you?” I asked brightly.

“I’m the only one who hasn’t gotten fucked yet, but hey, other than that…”

“Poor baby.” I took his massive cock in my free hand and gave it a tug. “Wait, didn’t you fuck me on the hood of Amy’s car?”

“We got interrupted, remember. So how are you?”

“I’m a mess.” I was. I was a greasy, sweaty mess. 

“Fucking Animal Kingdom around here. I keep expecting to see Marlon fucking Perkins lurking around.” 

I laughed. He slid down a bit to give me freer access to his dick. It was very hard. I was exhausted. 

“Good work, Jim,” Charlie did an excellent Marlon Perkins imitation. “Jim is now going to engage the beast from behind and attempt to subdue it. Be careful, Jim, or she’ll snap your dick off.”

I stroked him gently, enjoying the feel of the length of him.

“If I’m doing my math right,” I thought out loud, “that’s Amy’s fourth fuck of the night. Or did someone bang her before we left?”

“Wasn’t me.”

Mike was grunting louder and louder, and Amy was teasing him with jabs like, “Is that the best you can do.” When I think about it, it was a pretty silly sight. 

“My ass hurts,” I blurted out. It did.

“Thanks for sharing. What did you expect? Is this your subtle way of telling me your not going to finish fucking me?”

“I don’t know.”

“I was saving myself for you, you know?”

“I’m flattered.” He did say it sweetly. “I’m am also sweaty and covered with Vaseline.” I took my hand off his cock and rubbed my ass to gather up the jelly. I lubricated his penis with it.

“Mmm, that’s pretty good,” he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Mike started the sounds of preparing to come.

“Oh, uh, oh, uh…”

“Excellent work, Jim. I think he’s got her now,” Charlie intoned and winked at me.

Such a large, lovely dick; I felt like it was designed just for me. I gauged my condition. My bumhole burned and ached, and I worried if I could walk straight, but my twat felt fine. I was dirty and hot and tired and sweaty, but I liked Charlie and I liked his cock. I straddled him on the couch.

“Okay,” I said, “let’s finish what we started.” I put my face up to his. He kissed me.

“Not here. Come on.”

We got up from the couch and went to my room.



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 10



This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order. In any event, the story takes place in a Midwestern college town in the summer of 1979.

*****

I showered to remove the Vaseline from my skin, and I spread my cheeks and let the hot water soothe my sore bumhole. Afterwards, in my bed, Charlie fucked me with a fury. Unfortunately, I was tired and disinterested. I fell asleep as soon as it was polite to do so.

I had a dream that night that was new to me: 

I am in a spacious gymnasium watching very young men play some sort of game. They are naked, and their bodies are lean and slender. I am standing to the side of the area where the game is being played, and I am naked. My body is my body, fleshy and soft and full. My breasts are plump and my tummy pouts slightly bellow my belly button. It is familiar in its femininity save for one feature. I have a penis. The thick, handsome shaft protrudes from my pubic mound. I am fully erect. 

I watch the young men play. Some are black, some are brown, some are tan, and some are white, but all their bodies are similar. They have short, neatly trimmed heads of hair. The rest of their bodies are virtually hairless, with only tiny tufts for pubic hair. Their penises, though flaccid, are long smooth and swing about freely as they play. I can feel sensations from my penis, and it is hot and hard and the skin is taught. 

I want to play with the boys, but I am worried that I am different, and I am worried that my erection is inappropriate. Their bodies glisten with sweat. Hoots of laughter and good-natured shouting fill the room. They do not notice me. I cannot help myself. I take my penis in my hand. To my hand it feels familiar, a typical cock. The sensation in my penis is new to me. I feel my hand take hold of me, and its touch is cool. My penis stiffens and strains against my hand. I feel faint and nervous. I stroke my penis, and the sensation causes me to shiver. I stroke it more heartily, and I sigh with pleasure. 

The beautiful bodies cavorting about in front of me transfix me. I want to touch them, run my hands over their supple muscles and lustrous skin. I want to stroke their penises. I stroke my own. One young man notices me, and smiles. He walks towards me. I cannot stop myself from stroking. Other young men notice me. Seven or eight begin to approach me.  They stop in front of me. Their faces are charming with pleasant, welcoming expressions. I am a head taller than they are, but they are not children. They are men, but they are small and their beauty makes them appear younger. 

A fair skinned one with straw colored hair asks me a question; may he touch me? I nod yes, and he touches my breast. Now others are touching me, my thighs and buttocks and stomach. One with dark skin reaches between my legs. I have a vagina, too, and it is moist and receptive to his touch. They are petting me, and their penises are growing. I keep stoking my own penis, and it aches with fullness. 

“It’s okay,” one says. “You are beautiful,” and a mammoth stream of jism shoots forth from the head of my penis. Cum spews forth from me in and the boys catch it and smear themselves and me with my spunk. Now they rub their bodies against me, stiff penises rubbing against my skin, hot and sticky. I am dizzy from the heat. The hand between my legs rubs me and the friction builds and I come again, this time in a familiar way. 

When I woke up from the dream my hand was between my legs, and it was damp. My pussy was hot and sore. I was breathing heavily. Charlie was next to me, snoring lightly. I didn’t want to wake him. I didn’t want him to ask me what was wrong because I couldn’t explain. 

Why did I orgasm? Why did I have a penis? I tried to laugh it off. Sigmund Freud would have had a field day with that one. I couldn’t get back to sleep, and when I finally did it was daylight and again my dreams were peopled with the lithe bodied man-boys, naked and radiant with sex. 

It was almost noon when I got up that day (the day after what I have come to refer to as ‘Quarry Quarry Night’, with apologies to Picasso). It was Tuesday. Only three more days and I would be through with school. It was exciting. 

Charlie was gone. I was slowed in my enthusiasm by a dull, throbbing tension between my legs. I would have taken a bath if there had been a bathtub in the house. I showered and went downstairs for some coffee, and Amy was in the kitchen. She asked me if I had fun. I rolled my eyes. She winked at me. I changed the subject. I wanted to be normal again. 

I went to the library that afternoon, but I had difficulty studying. I couldn’t keep my mind off my dreams. I felt like there was something different about me. I worked on trying to figure out what it was.

All my life, up to that point, I had been embarrassed by my size. This was especially true when I was in new to high school, as I matured early and suffered a growth spurt that made me taller than all but one of the boys in my class. I hated the awkwardness of it. I not only felt I was unattractive, I felt like my size was intimidating to boys, and I felt they hated me for it. As my college years rolled along, I became much more comfortable with myself, and lately I had taken to the notion that I was an honest-to-God sexy woman, but I had still never dated anyone smaller than I was. As I am just over 5’10, so that made for a large segment of the male population that I considered un-dateable. It wasn’t just that it hadn’t happened. It was that I would have never, ever considered it. Now, all of a sudden, I was having wet dreams about slim, small men. Obviously, and quite ironically, I decided it must have had something to do with my encounter with the prosthetically enhanced Amy. 

I kept flashing back to the time I was straddling her, girl on top, and the curious sense of delight that filled me. I wished now that Tom hadn’t so rudely interrupted us by sticking his dick in my face (and ass). A part of me wanted to ask Amy if we could do that again, but I couldn’t see myself asking her. Besides, I thought, it had been a boy I was fantasizing about. What had I called her – my little cabana boy? But it wasn’t the “boy” part that excited me; it was the smallness. I liked being larger-than-life. It didn’t excite me to think of it as having been Amy; it excited me to think that I was on top of a man, and that he was much smaller than me. I liked being a giantess.

My more profound realization was this: I loved being me. I had finally learned to love my body. I was proud to be big. I was sexy, and sensual, and desirable, and I liked men, all kinds of men, not just the ones that were bigger than me. All of this thinking wasn’t conducive to studying. I was feeling sexually charged once again. I was insatiable and irascible. 

I would be glad, I also thought, to finally get whatever was in my system out of me; it was exhausting.

I spent the late afternoon wandering around campus ogling men I had never noticed existed before. So many pretty faces and so many body types: stout and muscular, slender and sinewy, athletic and rippling. It was like a whole new sexual world had opened up to me. (Just what I needed, huh?)

I studied at home that night. Business Psychology was the subject, one of those cross-curricular courses that’s a little too easy for either business or psychology majors but counted for both. The exam was at ten the next morning. I purposefully ignored my housemates and went to bed early. I dreamed of willowy young men with slender hips and chiseled features.

I felt refreshed in the morning. My mind was clear, my body energized. It was still hot out, and I put on my faux silk, powder blue sundress and pulled back my hair in a ponytail. I laughed with Tom over coffee and a bowl a cereal, and skipped off to my exam.

There was an African student in my business psychology class that I had spoken to on occasion. I had approached him at one time as a potential study partner; I was a psychology major and I was all but certain he was business major (very few foreign students were sent to the States to study psychology). He seemed shy, so I let it go, but after that we said hi to each other when our paths occasionally crossed. His name was Alshara. 

It occurred to me, as he took a seat a few rows in front of me, that he was a small man, about 5’5, and that had been another reason why I had thought about approaching him – there wouldn’t have been any sexual tension. I looked at him with my new eyes.

His skin was so richly black that he appeared to have the luster of a polished, deep-blue stone. His cheekbones were set high, his forehead was broad, and his chin was sculpted and strong. He had long hands and oval fingernails that looked as if they were professionally manicured. He always dressed impeccably, and for the exam he had on a thin, white Egyptian cotton dress shirt and neatly pressed brown twill slacks with an alligator belt. 

I watched him carefully from the time he entered the classroom until he sat down. His hips were narrow and his slacks were perfectly tailored. He smiled and waived at me, and I realized how engaging he was. As he sat down, the seat of his pants pulled taught over his rear, and at that precise moment I realized that I wanted to see him naked. I also wished I had taken more time with my makeup. 

I had difficulty concentrating on my exam, but I managed. I finished ten minutes early only because I knew I had passed and I didn’t have the fortitude to do better than necessary. I also wanted to be sure I finished before Alshara did. He was seated at the end of his row, and as I walked past him I purposefully swung my hip out so that the hem of my dress would brush up and over the end of his desk. I desperately wanted to look back to see if he was watching me. I put a little extra bounce in my step. 

I had no idea what I was up to, but once I was outside the classroom I rushed to the ladies room to check my hair and face. I looked okay, not as bad as I had worried. I came back out into the hallway and slowly got a drink of water. I heard the classroom door open. I carefully took an extra sip of water. I turned, and it was it was three frat boys in T-shirts and gym shorts. I started to leave when I heard the door again. It was Alshara. I waived nonchalantly.

“Hello Annie.”

“Hi Alshara, how did you do?”

He walked up to me as if that had been his intent all along.

“Good. It was a good exam. And you.” He had an English accent that was perfectly modulated and articulated. I guessed that he had studied his English in England.

“I passed. That’s good enough for me.”

“Is it your last exam?”

“One more, Friday. How about you?”

“This is it. I go home tomorrow.”

“Are you through through?”

“How do you mean?”

“Are you coming back, or will you get your degree?”

“Yes, I am through through then,” he smiled graciously. “I will not be coming back.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

“Annie, will you do me the pleasure of having lunch with me?”

I smiled.



We ate at Willow Tree. It was his suggestion. I learned he was from Somalia in eastern Africa and lived in the capital, Mogadishu. (This was long before the fall of Somalia to the rebels and criminals.) His father was a high ranking official in the Somali military and a private businessman. He was going home to teach business and work for the Ministry of Trade. 

At one point during our meal I said that I would love to visit Africa and had always dreamed of going on a safari. Alshara responded that his family was originally from Kenya, and that he had worked as a tour guide on luxury safaris through the grasslands of the Serengeti. Apparently he was also a semi-professional photographer (his pictures had been used in numerous African magazines and travel brochures), and he asked if I would like to see his portfolio. Of course I agreed, and I truly did want to see his pictures.

His apartment was on the 12th floor of a private condominium building overlooking the river. It was a short walk from campus. I had become so accustom to small studios and shared living space that the concept that a student could live in a spacious condominium in a quiet, well-maintained building was difficult for me to grasp. 

I was both shocked and intrigued when I first entered the apartment. It was simple and tasteful. The wood furnishings were dark mahogany, the upholstery was eggshell damask and jacquard, and there were colorful throws on the couch. Unframed, contemporary original artwork graced the walls, and elegant glasswork adorned the shelf space. The books were all hardbound. The more I looked, the more impressed I became. He asked if I wanted something to drink and I said water. When he returned from the kitchen he was carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“I was wondering if I could be so bold, Annie, as to ask you to join me in a toast to the successful completion of my studies.”

“I would be honored.”

“My flight leaves tomorrow morning, and I have so much to arrange this evening that I don’t know when I’ll have a chance to celebrate properly. Thank you so much.”

When I first saw the champagne, I thought he was being sly, but the context he set for it made it seem as natural as rain (not that I cared about the context since I had already decided that I wanted to fuck him). He set down the glasses on his coffee table next to where I was standing, popped the cork expertly, and filled the glasses. He handed one to me, took his own, and stood in front of me.

“A toast, then, to both of us upon our graduation from college.” His perfect English mesmerized me. 

I stood up. “Cheers,” I said, and I had to consciously keep my hand low so that it wouldn’t be awkward for him to raise and clink his glass with mine.

“Cheers.”

There was a brief silence, and then he raised his hand as if remembering something and took an art portfolio from behind a bookcase. We sat on his couch, sipping our wine, and he explained each picture. Without exaggerating, they were some of the most beautiful pictures I had ever seen. One in particular stood out. It was a waterfall dropping into a canyon, and the mist rising from the canyon captured the intense golden rays of the sunset. It was captivating.

We talked a little bit more, and I accepted another glass of wine and took off my flats and got more comfortable on the couch. He put on a tape, which he described as an African/jazz fusion. It was pleasant and melodious, but with complex rhythms and extended percussion instrumentals. I asked if he had any intention of pursuing a career in photography, and he said that his life had been well planned, and being an artist was not a possibility. Then he surprised me with his candor.

“I am to be married soon after I return to Mogadishu.”

“Oh my.” I almost spit out my wine. It was quiet and he seemed reflective. I didn’t know if I was disappointed or relieved, but I was curious. 

“Is it a planned marriage, or, well…it’s really none of my…”

“No, no, I brought it up, though I am not sure why.”

“Everyone says I am easy to talk to.”

He laughed heartily. “You are at that, Annie. It is not planned in the old fashioned sense, but it is…expected of me.”

“Do you want to marry her?”

“Perhaps. Yes, I do. She is an extremely pleasant woman, more of a girl, really, but intelligent and friendly. I don’t know her all that well. She is appropriately connected.”

“Ah, a wealth and class thing?”

“Yes, of course. It’s just that a part of me…” he paused in thought. .” I decided to finish his thought for him.

“…Wants to tell everyone to go fuck themselves.” I feared I was out of line. I wasn’t. His laugh was genuine and prolonged, and it continued through his reply.

“Yes, Annie, Yes! That is exactly what I want to do. I want to tell them to go fuck themselves, and I want to stay here and become an American playboy, and an artist, and a writer.” He looked at me. “I want to date American women, women like you, Annie, with dynamic and incorrigible personalities and…” he paused again.

“And?” I took a long sip of champagne.

“…and beautiful green eyes.”

I looked into his eyes, and they were pitch black, giving them a sense of depth and content. I wanted him to kiss me.

“I am sorry; I have been too forward.”

Dammit. Okay, so I kissed him. I put my hand on his chest, and licked and pursed my lips to soften and wet them. And then I kissed him again. He placed a hand on my side, gently brushing my breast on its course.

“Am I being too forward?” My question was breathy; my lips were close to his.

“I’m quite shocked,” he was able to say without a hint of being shocked, making it funny.

“Just call me incorrigible,” I kissed him again, “and impulsive.”

“Impulsive, yes, that too.”

“Just promise me one thing, Alshara.”

“Yes, Annie, anything.”

“Don’t get stuck on me. I am not going to be the women who ruins your marriage.”

“I understand completely.” He kissed me with soft, full lips. His tongue caressed my lips. I pushed him back against the couch, took his wineglass out of his hand and set both our glasses on the coffee table. I had been sitting with my legs curled, and I kicked one leg out and climbed over the top of him, straddling him. I had to stoop quite a bit to bring my face down to his. I felt magnificently impressive on top of him, and I was warmed by the perception. He tilted his head back and I kissed him. His hands grabbed my sides and rubbed up and down, then wandered over the curve of my ass. I sat back up and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“You are analluring creature, Annie. Tell me why we haven’t gotten together before this.”

“I was shy.”

His hands drifted up my skirt, and I actually leaned up so that he could free the fabric trapped between us. I pulled up his shirt as far as I could and admired his chest. His skin was fabulously smooth, almost slippery to the touch. His muscles were taught and hard, and his skin was stretched tight over his body like it was elastic. He petted the tops and sides of my substantial thighs. 

I leaned down so that I could speak into his ear. “I want to see you naked.”

“My, you are incorrigible.” 

I climbed back off of him. I sat back and curled my legs under me again and he looked at me quizzically. I motioned for him to stand up, and he obeyed. He pushed the coffee table away and stood directly in front of me. He untucked his shirt slowly. His muscles rippled as he worked off the shirt. He smiled at me and then struck a pose like Charles Atlas, tightening his stomach muscles so that they ribbed. I had never seen such a well-defined body. The deep blue-blackness of his skin made him seem edible. I tingled deep inside.

“Not too bad for a smaller gentleman, eh?”

I smiled. I wondered what he would think of me, for a “larger lady.” He rested his hands at his belt buckle. He made me wait. He unbuckled his belt, unfastened his slacks, and slowly, wistfully pulled down his zipper. His trousers dropped to the floor. He was wearing tan silk, bikini-styled briefs that were smooth and protruded over the mound of his penis (there was no fly). The mound of his penis was spectacular in relation to his size. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his slacks. He sat down briefly on the coffee table and pulled off his socks, placing them calmly in his shoes and sliding them under the table. Then he picked up his slacks by the cuffs and carefully smoothed the pant legs and set the slacks over the arm of the couch. He stood back in front of me. 

His thighs were deeply cut with muscle and tendon and his legs were straight and long for his body. Slowly he rolled down his briefs. They seemed to slip down over his hips. He bent over briefly to guide them further, and they fell away. He stood up, legs slightly spread, hands on his hips, and let me admire his beauty.




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 10



I had never seen an uncircumcised penis before. Not even in pictures. So when I first ogled his long appendage, uncoiled as it was directly in front of my face, it took me a second to realize what I was must be looking at. It was smooth to its tip, where the skin gathered to an opening. I was leaning forward. His body was completely hairless except for his pubic area, and what little hair he had was barely perceptible.

“Is this what you do, Annie, follow young men home and then make them undress for your pleasure.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off his penis. I wanted to touch it. I refrained. I motioned him to turn around. He did. I gaped. I loved the way his lower back swooped into his buttocks with two thin tendon-like muscles. His hips were narrow, and his ass was tight and round, with two large dimple-like depressions on each side. His shoulders were broad and his back was strong. I stood up behind him and ran my hands under his arms. I pulled his back against my chest and ran my hands over his sculptured chest and stomach.

“You are quite the specimen, Alshara.” Then I feigned a high-pitched voice and squeaked out teasingly, “Do you work out?”

“You are a funny girl, Annie. When do I get to see you?”

“When I am ready.”

Alshara chuckled. I could look over his shoulder and watched my hands explore his firm flesh. I reached for his penis. Unlike the rest of him, it was supple in my hand. It started to grow firmer. I pulled at his skin and watched the tip swell. The head of his penis was emerging from its cocoon, and it was glistening and the skin was lighter, a brownish-pink. I cupped his dick in my hand and pulled it back again, and more of the head became visible. His penis was long, but not relatively thick. I tried to imagine its size if Alshara was as tall as Charlie, and suspected he might be as long, but not as substantial – still very impressive. I touched the head. It appeared damp, but it was not. It was velvety to the touch, indescribable really. It was like fine, silky-smooth leather of an unimaginable grade of quality. It was quite beautiful in its own way. 

I stroked him until he seemed fully erect, and noted that his penis was more familiar in its shape now, not so different, I thought, from an uncircumcised one. I stroked it again and it stiffened in my hand. The head, once loose and fleshy, was straining against the tightness of his skin. I pulled my hands up and turned him at the shoulders until he was facing me. 

I could see over the top of his head. He looked up and I kissed him. I rubbed his back, and lower, my hands lingered over his rock-hard ass. He started pulling up my dress. I raised my hands and lowered my body until he could pull my dress off over my head. I sat down on the couch, his penis directly in front of my face, and I took the head in my mouth. It tasted sweet. The skin felt even softer against my tongue. I could tell it was sensitive. I licked at it, tickling it. Then I tasted it again. 

I cupped his ass cheeks in my hands and pulled him deeper into my mouth. I freed one hand and stroked him while my lips encircled his penis. I took more of him in my mouth. I could feel the head against my throat, and it tickled. I pulled it out of my mouth and stroked it with a tight grip, and I marveled at its glistening sexuality. My panties were wet. I replaced the long organ in my mouth and proceeded to give Alshara what I can only imagine had to be the best blowjob I have ever given. He seemed to enjoy it, anyway. 

When I sensed the slightest orgasmic convulsions, I withdrew the sensitive member from my mouth and stood up. He was gracious enough to let me continue to lead despite the urgency of his condition. I turned him around again and seated him on the couch. I made him watch me as I slowly removed my panties and played with myself. If he wanted dynamic and incorrigible, I thought, he hadn’t seen anything yet. 

I ran my hands all over my body. I pulled at my clit and fingered my wet heat. I watched his eyes as he watched me. He didn’t stroke himself, though I wanted him to. His erection stayed true. I pushed the coffee table more to the side and I got down on my hands and knees on the soft carpeting, wiggling my copiously enticing ass at him. Then I rolled over on my back with my legs straight up in the air. I arched my back to expose more of my twat to him. I reached around and touched myself, slowly running my finger up and down the exposed portion of my labia.  Then slowly I spread my legs as wide as I could.

I inserted two fingers in my soaking pussy. And he watched me. I used tow hands, and slowly unsheathed and sheathed my clitoris. And now, finally, he reached for his erection.

“Go on,” I encouraged him. He began to stroke. I massaged my pussy with two hands. After a tender orgasm, I pulled back my folds and exposed my pink, perhaps now almost purple clitoris.

“Come to me,” I whimpered, and he crawled to me. 

He started to mount me, and I whispered in a breathy voice, “Taste me.” He looked at me pleadingly. I didn’t know if he was anxious to fuck me or unwilling to taste me. I didn’t care. 

“Taste me, or I will leave,” I said more forcefully, and I meant it. 

He lowered himself and pressed his lips against my pussy. His tongue entered me slit. He was not experienced. I tapped him on the head and pointed at my clit. He licked at it.

“That’s good,” I moaned. He got better in a hurry. Her sucked at it, and I moaned louder. 

As we progressed I could tell that my pleasure was exciting him and spurring him on. It felt good, but I made it sound like I was in ecstasy. When I finally took hold of his ears and pulled him up on top of me, I closed my eyes and imagined his lithe, hard smallness crawling on top of my bountiful voluptuousness. As he entered me eagerly I wrapped my long, prodigious thighs around his narrow hips and I enveloped his torso with my long arms. I pulled him down into me, smothering his face in my breasts. He pumped his long rod into me emphatically, and I squeezed him forcefully, not to slow him down, but to feel all his muscles writhe and tense against all my flesh. I was whispering against the top of his head, “Come on baby,” over and over again. 

His stamina was impressive. I picked up my cries of pleasure. He seemed invigorated by them. He went faster, and then faster still, and yet he didn’t come. I couldn’t believe the speed at which his hips were working. The friction was unbearable, and now I was squeezing him to slow him down. I was exhausted. I dropped my arms to my side and relaxed the muscles in my legs. I went as limp as I could, and I closed my eyes tight. He pressed his hands on the floor and pushed himself up, and then he went at me in a fashion I can only describe as a jackhammer. 

My breasts were vibrating wildly. My whole body, limp as it was, seemed to jiggle and quiver on the floor. I mustered the energy to run my hands down his sides to his hips, and I felt the power of his shaking. His stamina was beyond impressive. The friction built up within me. My legs stiffened and stuck straight out from me. I clenched his ass. My whole body tensed. The fire shot through my nerves. I cried out something. He kept going. I relaxed, he continued. 

And then, stunningly, it happened again. For the first orgasm, I intentionally tensed my muscles. This time they tensed involuntarily and spasmodically. I could fell my pussy juices running down my legs and ass. And still he kept going. I started to shake. I cried out something again. I was twitching and writhing underneath him with no control. I was lightheaded. 

For a moment, I imagined I was taken to another world; I was a queen in Africa, a giantess from the north, and Alshara was my peasant sex slave. I was in a marbled bedroom on a huge bed, being adroitly pleasured at my command. I came yet again.

Alshara black skin was now exuding his sweat, his scent. 

He started to slow, and uncontrollably I whined. I wanted more – not only incorrigible, but insatiable. I was cruel, and I felt sorry for him. 

“Lie back,” I said as I put my hands on his ribs and guided him as he rolled off of me and on to his back. I was now atop him, and we never lost penetration. 

“Oh, Annie, I am sorry, but I tired.”

He closed his eyes and I petted his forehead. “Don’t be sorry. You really DO work out! That was fabulous.” 

I began to ride him. I felt as if I was gripping his penis with my vagina and stroking him. I tensed my vaginal walls and tried to contract them as much as I could. He groaned with pleasure. I picked up my pace. I put my hands on his chest and pushed myself up high, arching my back and tilting my head up. I bounced on him. He grabbed my breasts and squeezed them and stroked them. My legs felt strong, and I was enjoying the exercise of being on top. I got more energetic. I tried to work him faster and harder. Now I started to sweat.

I looked down at him. He was small when he was on top of me, but now he seemed even smaller. I guessed he weighed only ten pounds less than I did, but that was only because he was so hard and compact. My body frame was much bigger that his. I was at least a half-foot taller than him. I rode him, and I felt large. My ass and my thighs engulfed his hips. When I spread myself over the top of him, so that my breasts swayed and bounced over his face, he seemed tiny, but his dick was plentiful. It filled me and satisfied me. 

As I rode him, I fantasized again. This time he was a large man, big by human standards, but I was a goddess from another realm, and when I took on a fleshy form, I was to be feared by mortal men. I was taking advantage of him, raping him really, for my own pleasure. I came down on him as hard as I could. Again the heat in my pussy started to build. I was sweating profusely. 

I remembered my time on top of Tom, and my experience with Alshara was similar conceptually, but totally different in effect. I was enjoying Alshara more. He was much smaller than Tom, but his dick was much larger. It was a magical combination for my fantasy. Alshara suffered my savage, fleshy fury. I pounded on him. 

My fantasy continued. We were in a field, where I had captured the mortal and disrobed him, and I marveled at his masculinity when I surveyed his nudity. There was a marble gazebo by a lake where I took him and ordered him to disrobe me. I made him worship me, worship the immensity of my nudity. I forced him to taste me in order to quell his fear. I allowed him to mount me in order that he might please me. I then mounted him in order to please myself. 

The heat kept building. Alshara began bucking up into me, but with each of my thrusts downward I pinned his hips beneath me. I came for the fourth time. Now it was I who tired.

He kept bucking into me. I leaned forward, coming up on my knees, and he clung to me from below. He was hanging onto me, holding his back off the ground. Only his feet were touching the floor. I froze on all fours to see if he could do it. He did. He bucked into me while I supported most of his weight. His face was buried in my floating, robust breasts. I thought I would come yet again, but his grip slipped in our sweatiness. He fell out of me and to the floor. He was panting.

“Fuck me from behind, Alshara.”

“Yes, Mistress Anne, as you wish.”

Ooh, I liked that. “Mistress.” He scurried behind me and mounted me. He poked his long cock deep inside me and then he rammed into to me barbarously. He was able to get onto his feet, leggs splayed, and clasping my expansive hips, he thudded into me violently, my ass spreading and jiggling with each slap from his hips. My pussy swelled, my sex muscles stung with fatigue. 

“May I come inside you?” He was still polite.



“Yes, you may.” I played along.

He sped up his thrusting till his long cock became only a blur of sensation inside of me. Then he stopped and pressed deep into me, and I could feel his penis contracting and his hot cum exploding into me. 

He stood up. I rolled onto my side to look at him. His cock looked even longer than before, and it was dripping wet with my juices. His whole body glimmered with sweat in the afternoon light. I was wet too. He knelt down next to me. I could feel his hot cum oozing out of me. Cum was still burbling from the shiny head of his penis. He was still erect. He touched my hair and felt it in his hand. I started to sit up and more cum squeezed out of me. He seemed to sense my dilemma and got up to get me some Kleenex. 

I lay back down. When he returned, he stood next to me, and looking at him I realized that he was still erect. He handed me the Kleenex. I cleaned myself. He took it from me and left to throw it away, and when he came back he still had a full-bore erection. He knelt by my side. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of his stiff cock. I was bewildered.

“I have rarely…no I have never enjoyed myself with a women this much before, Annie.”

I thought to ask jokingly, “But you have with men?” but resisted the temptation.

“You are so comfortable with your sexuality, and the simplicity of your beauty is so provocative and tantalizing.”

“I’m big, too,” I said. He laughed. “Thank you. You are very charming.”

“You are a temptress, Miss Annie. You arouse me in a way that is not familiar to me.” He paused. “May I make love to you again?”

And as God is my witness, the little bugger climbed on top of me and fucked my lights out again. 

****

Afterwards we both lay on our backs next to each other on his Persian rug, panting, oily with sweat and exhausted. I turned on my side and rubbed my hand over his chest and stomach. Part of me was sad. I was probably never going to see this man again, and he was interesting, and a great lay to boot. Finally, his dick was, limp. I was actually relieved to see that. We talked for a while. He offered me the use of his shower, and I was grateful. 

I put on a terry robe I found on the back of the bathroom door after my shower. It was noticeably small on me. I liked that, and I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. I found him in a silver-gray silk robe sitting on the couch drinking champagne. We finished the bottle. I admired his robe, and he offered to give it to me, but I told him it wouldn’t fit; I was too fat. 

“You mean I am too small,” he said, and before I could say anything else stupid he said silver wasn’t my color anyway. White, he said, was the color that captured me—pearly white. 

We chatted on about nothing in particular.  He told me he had a party to go to that evening and he wished very much to invite me, but there would be people who knew his family there. I told him I understood. Without speaking about it directly, we both seemed resigned to the fact that we wouldn’t see each other again, and I could sense genuine regret in his face. 

He asked if I would join him at his favorite restaurant for dinner. He drove me there in a black BMW. The restaurant that was a converted farmhouse in the country only twenty minutes away. I had never heard of the place before. We shared another bottle of wine, an expensive cabernet that was rich with tannin and deliciously complex. I thought about how easy it would be to get used to this kind of living. A gentle, comforting calm settled over me in the candlelight. We toasted to our ourselves and our futures, sealing our unspoken agreement that this would be our last and only meeting. He told me I looked beautiful and radiant. I blushed.

When he dropped me off at the blues house it was about nine o’clock. We sat for a while in his car. It was quiet.

“I fear you may have corrupted me, Annie,” he said calmly and slowly, urging me to look into his eyes. “I want to say that I wish we had met earlier, but I suspect you would have tantalized me for only a brief time, and then left me in shambles with a ruined life, a broken heart, and an urgent, insatiable longing.”

I was moved. Tears welled in my eyes, and I had to wipe one away, and this embarrassed me. “I would have taken you for every penny you’re worth,” I said laughing away the lump in my throat. He threw back his head in laughter.

“You are a marvelous enigma, Annie.” He patted my thigh. “The allure of your beauty is its wholesome grace, and yet there is a depth to your passion that is quite alarming.  There is much for men to fear in you. Promise me you will be careful with their hearts.”

“You overestimate me. I am a simple girl. I like simple things.”

“You underestimate yourself. You are a woman – a real woman. You are voluptuous and complex, and your will is quite irresistible.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything, of course.”

“Promise me you will be a good husband to your wife, a good father to your children, and generous with your wealth and your heart.”

“I will.”

“I know.”

He looked away from and stared thoughtfully straight ahead.

“I will always remember you, Annie Malone. Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” We both smiled. My heart hurt.

We kissed good-bye.

There was a note for me on the kitchen table inside the house. Everyone was at the club and they wanted me to join them. I poured a glass of wine and sat down in the big armchair in the living room. The only sounds I could here were the crickets and the rustle of the leaves. I started to cry, and then I sobbed inconsolably. I wasn’t sad. I just wanted to sit alone in a quiet room and weep. I was beginning to doubt I had an emotional skin tough enough for all this gratuitous sex. I wanted to be loved. 

After a while I calmed myself down, and then I had to chuckle at my sentimentality. I slept very well that night.



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 11



This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order. In any event, the story involves college housemates and is set in the summer of 1979.

*****

I woke up earlier than usual on Thursday. My eyes were puffy from crying myself to sleep. I renewed my vow: when I left for graduate school in a few days, when I left this place, I was going to leave everything that happened this summer behind me. No looking back. No regrets. And no more tears. 

Not that all the crying was an entirely bad thing. It was refreshing, I suppose, in a way that’s hard to describe. I felt renewed. Or I tried to convince myself of that.

I threw on some running shorts and a tank top and I sat on the front porch reading the newspaper and enjoying my coffee and the warming sun. A few hours passed quickly. Amy was the first one up. It was midmorning and she was still in her robe and slippers when she came out with her cup of coffee. She sat down next to me on the loveseat rocker.

“Hey,” she said sleepily.

“Good morning,” I said trying out my renewed cheerful disposition.

“My, aren’t you bright.” She took the front page of the paper. “Where were you last night?”

“Oh, studying, walking around, I don’t know.”

“How mysterious. When did you get in?”

“Early.”

“You should have come to the club. Tom bumped into some softball buddies and they sat with us. Key-ute! I had a whole gaggle of men all to myself. I was hoping you would come.”

“I was tired.” 

“I danced so much I’m sore.”

“It wouldn’t have been for me last night. So, did you get laid?” I was trying to joke and be playful, but I regretted the question as soon as it left my lips.

“And that would be your business how?” she said without looking from the paper. I thought I was safe. Then a light turned on. 

“The real question is, did YOU get laid?” Amy asked focusing all her attention on me.

“And that would be your business…?” I started, mimicking her.

“You smug little bitch. You got laid!” She sat up in interest. “Okay, let’s swap stories, you first.”

“No, you.”

“Okay. No, I didn’t get laid. I was tired and hot and drunk and I went straight to bed. Now you?”

“Me neither.”

“Lying bitch.”

She went back to her paper.

A delivery van pulled up in front of the house. A young man opened the sliding door and pulled out a large box that looked like it was big enough hold a bag of golf clubs. He started for our porch.

“What’s this?” Amy stood up.

“Annie Malone?” the young man called out to us.

“That’s me.” I stood up. 

He set the box down on the steps. It was silver-sheathed with a white satin bow. “I’ve got one more,” he said running back to his van. Amy was about to pull the card off the box.

“Nosey slut,” I said as I snatched it from her.

The deliveryman came back with a small shirt-box package that was also wrapped in silver and white. I signed for the packages hurriedly.

“What’s it say?” Amy was trying to peer over my shoulder, and I kept turning to keep her away.

In elegant cursive calligraphy, the card said this: Even in the briefest moment, eternity exists.

“Well?” Amy pried.

“It says thanks for the memories, but way classier.”

I opened the big box and found six-dozen long stem white roses. They were spectacular. As Amy cooed over them, I opened the small box and pulled out a pearl-white silk robe. An elegantly subtle jacquard print was woven into the fabric. I tried it on. It was a little above my knees in length with three-quarter sleeves. It was cool against my skin, and so fine it felt like gossamer, and it fit me perfectly. I tied the belt and twirled so that Amy could admire it.

“It’s beautiful,” Amy gasped with sincere appreciation. “It’s definitely you.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Amy helped me put a fresh cut on the flowers and arrange them around the Blues House. She bugged me incessantly about where the gifts had come from, but I was steadfast. Most of the flowers went in a large vase in my bedroom. Tom, Charlie, and Mike were curious about the flowers. I told them the flowers were for my graduation, which was partially true, and they let it go. 

As I was getting dressed to go to the library, Amy burst into my room and announced, “We simply must go shopping!” I protested, noting I had a final the following morning, but she insisted, cryptically telling me she had a surprise for me. I relented when she promised she would have me home by two that afternoon.

In the car, on the way to our mysterious destination, she was unusually animated.

“I have the most wonderful surprise for you. I didn’t know how to bring it up with you, but your gift this morning gave me an idea.” 

“A surprise from you? Should I be worried?”

“I was very drunk last night, and I started talking, and I got this idea that you and the guys and I should…” she paused in confusion over what to say, “…maybe tomorrow night, being it’s our last night together. I thought we should go to this club I know about as a kind of celebration of our summer together.”

“What kind of club?”

“Well, that’s just the thing. The way I see it, we can all agree before we go that if someone doesn’t like it or wants to leave, then we’ll all come home, no questions.”

“What kind of club, Amy?”

“Tom and Charlie and Mike said they were game. Of course, they were drunk, too, but they told me this morning it was a go. Except Charlie: he said that he wouldn’t go if you didn’t want to go, so I told them I would bring it up with you.”

“So...?”

“Okay, it’s this place called the Troubadour Lounge. It’s in Canada, about a two-hour drive. It used to be a strip joint, but now it’s like a club. Not a dance club, but a …” 

“Bridge club?” I teased. I think I knew where she was headed. It made me nervous. 

“I don’t want to say it’s a sex club…”

“A sex club?!”

“It’s a hoot, Annie. We would have an extreme blast. It’s not like a strip joint, or, well, okay, maybe it’s like a strip joint on acid or something, but it’s very cool. No pressure. Anything goes, including nothing if you want to do nothing.”

“It sounds gross.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite. It’s not ‘gross.’ It’s super-clean and everyone is very friendly. Women own it, so it’s safe as can be. It’s just like a big party every night where anything goes, once you know a few rules.”

“Amy, this is silly…”

“And I’ll tell you the best part. If you want to, you can make some serious cash.”

“What, like being a stripper?!”

“No!” She struggled with a thought. “ Well, I suppose in one way you could say that. But you wouldn’t be there as a ‘stripper,’ you’d just be visiting, and there are all other kinds of things you can do. It’s fun stuff. It’s just that pretty girls, you know, you can get tips and stuff, but only if you want to. I’ve been there a hundred times, and nothing bad has ever happened, and I can make anywhere from a hundred to a thousand bucks a night.”

“A thousand bucks?” I was incredulous.

“Okay, that was a really good night, but three hundred wouldn’t be out of the question. And don’t knock it. I put myself through college that way. You could make that much without taking anything off. It’s harmless stuff: dance with some guys, shake a little booty. It’s fun, and like I said, you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

She really is crazy, I thought.

“Come on Annie, please. That’s my surprise. I want to buy you an outfit for tomorrow night. The guys really want to go. I really want to go. And we all really want you to go with us. You’d be safe with us. Just have a drink, watch the fun – it’s hilarious stuff. No pressure, promise.”

Amy pulled into the parking lot of the most expensive department store in town. I’d only been in the store once before, and I hadn’t bought anything because of the prices. It had brass and hand finished wood everywhere, and every department was like it’s own little world. I remembered how pleasant the staff was – attractive, courteous and knowledgeable, and never any pressure to buy anything. I liked that kind of shopping. I was intrigued.

“I don’t think so, Amy.”

“Don’t say anything. Just come shopping with me.”

Amy took me straight away to the lingerie department. Amy said we were going to accessorize my robe for our visit to the Troubadour. I was flabbergasted that she thought I might be persuaded to wear my new robe to a club, and she tried to assure me she knew what she was doing. I was hesitant to shop at first, but the hosiery and undergarments were all so scintillating and of such remarkable quality that I got swept away. Why shouldn’t I have some nice things to wear with my beautiful new robe?

It was as if Amy could read my mind. Either that or my reactions to the lingerie were fairly easily to read. I was a bit giddy. Every time I was titillated by the idea of how gorgeous something might look with my robe, she would look at it and say, “That’s it” and set it aside for comparison. 

The store clerk was in her thirties, and she took a liking to us immediately. She was calming and polite, but genuinely interested in seeing that we both had fun as we shopped. She was charmingly flattering, too, which helped my spirits. Amy concocted some wild story about a honeymoon in Europe, and an antique pearl robe that we were trying to accessorize. It was funny stuff. I wondered what her reaction would have been had we told her the truth: “Oh, yes, we are going to a sex club, and we need something smashingly indecent.”

After well over an hour we finally settled on a soft-white chiffon baby doll with an uneven hemline that was so sheer that except for a subtle lacy design around the bodice it was translucent. It was trimmed with thin strands of lace and came with a matching pair of hip-hugger panties. I had to go with a plus size (damn!) on the baby doll to get the chiffon to cover my bum. 

Amy wanted me to get the matching garter belt and hosiery, but I told her no. I thought it would look ridiculous. We compromised on pair of sheer frosted-white seamless stockings that were held up by a lacy band of textured elastic around the thighs. I fell in love with our choices, but I wasn’t planning on wearing such an outfit for anything but the most intimate of company. I wanted to pay for the items myself, to leave me the option, but the clerk, thinking they were wedding gifts, conspired with Amy. The items were mine before I knew a decision had been made. 

I thought we were leaving the store, but Amy dragged me to the jewelry section and bought me faux pearl dangle earrings trimmed in gold and a faux pearl necklace just slightly longer than a choker. I was marveling at her generosity. She then insisted on buying me a pair of classy high-heels, not spiky: white pumps with modest two-and-one-half-inch heels. 

“You can’t possibly wear those crappy white flats of yours,” she chided me. 

“I’ll be way too tall,” I whined. She convinced me they were perfect. I wanted them to be perfect.

Finally, we had lunch at a cafe next the store. Amy was ecstatic with the notion that we were going to the Troubadour together, and it was infectious. I made her promise that if I didn’t like it, we would come straight home, and then I resigned myself to my fate. 

Truth be told, I was curious and excited.

Amy got me home shortly after two that afternoon, just as she’d promised. No one was home, and she couldn’t contain herself, so she left a giant note on the kitchen table for the boys: “WE’RE ON FOR TOMORROW NIGHT!!!”

I went to the library and studied, and I made it an early night. Before bedtime, I tried on my new lingerie. I was startled. I couldn’t possibly imagine appearing in public that way. I was titillated. I fell asleep thinking sexy thoughts.

I spent some time in the Friday morning organizing my stuff for packing. I set out my suitcases and the big steamer trunk. Tomorrow I was going home, and then in a day or two, because I was already packed, I was off for California to settle in to my new life. I sat down on the trunk, and I welled up, and tears came to my eyes. Less than a day, and I had already broken my vow. Maybe that’s why I cried myself to sleep that night. I didn’t know. It felt different this time. I wasn’t so much emptiness as forlornness. I took a shower, and I felt better again.

I finished my FINAL final exam by noon. When I arrived home, Amy whisked me off to a hair-stylist appointment she had made for the both of us. Again she insisted on paying. I refused to let her. She told me I could pay her back from my night’s earnings. I told her there wasn’t going to be any earnings. She was adamant about picking up the tab, so I capitulated, but I insisted on springing for a manicure for each of us. 

We had a few glasses of wine at the parlor, and by the time we were through, we were radiant and looked marvelous. Her hair was a bouncy Prince Valiant, turned in at the shoulders, a stunningly deep auburn. My fawn colored hair was carefully highlighted and pulled up in a French bun, with loose strands of curls caressing my neck and face. I was looking forward to trying on my outfit. I wondered what Amy would wear.

When we got home, Tom and Charlie and Mike were on the front porch drinking beer. They hooted and fawned over our hairdos with heartwarming sincerity. We joined them for a few beers. Everyone was happy with their exam performances, and excited about the evening. There was a flurry of questions for Amy. She said she would explain the protocols on the way up in the car. Only one rule really mattered, she said: have fun!

We ordered Chinese food and ate on the front porch, talking and laughing. At about 7:00 that evening, Amy announced that it was time for us ladies to start getting ready. 

I told her I wanted to take a quick shower, and she joined me. We were careful not to wet our hair.

She was standing out of the water lathering her nether regions with shaving cream. She used a man’s razor and began to shave herself, starting at the tops of the insides of her thighs and drawing the razor up to her triangular tuft of dark-red pubic hair. She took her time, shaping it perfectly. Then she spread the lather between her parted legs.

“Doesn’t that make you itchy?” I asked.

“I’ve been shaving myself for quite some time.” She looked up at me and smiled. “Soft as a baby’s bottom.” 

She took the razor up her thighs again, but this time she went between her legs and slid the razor over her labia. I winced. I had trimmed my pubic hair many times, and I had occasionally shaved it around the edges when I was doing my legs, a bikini wax sort of thing, but I had never stroked a razor over the soft stuff between my legs.

“Yikes,” I winced again.

“‘Yikes?’ You should see me when I have to shave those pesky little hairs from my butt crack.”

“No thanks. Don’t you think that’s taking it a bit too far?”

“Oh, it feels great.”

“But that hair is so delicate and soft. Don’t you run the risk of it becoming coarse, like leg hair?”

“Nah. Here.” She walked over to me and took my hand. I started to pull it away. 

“Come on, Annie, I just want you to feel how soft and smooth it is.” 

“I’ve felt it, remember?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t freshly shaved then.” She placed my hand against her pubic mound. Her pubic hair was delicate and thin, and the exposed skin on her mound was very soft. I started to remove my hand and she took it again. 

“Feel between my legs. We’re friends here, right?”

“Boy, I guess,” I said, and I actually did want to touch her and see how it felt. I traced her labia with my fingers. Her flesh was supple and yielding to my touch, and yet so smooth it felt polished. 

“It does feel nice.”

“Ooh, yes it does,” she cooed. 

“Ooops.” 

She smiled at me as I pressed into her and one of my fingers slipped into the moist warmth between her lips. 

“Ooh,” she sighed again. “Of course there is definitely something to be said for a little wispy hair around there. It’s very sexy. But there is nothing worse than big ol’ fur-burger pussy.” She reached for my pussy.

“Gorilla salad,” I offered with a laugh.

“What?”

“That’s what an old boyfriend called it. He told me he was glad I didn’t have a ‘gorilla salad’ down there like some girls.”

Amy laughed, and I let her hand slip between my legs. She touched me and stroked me. My whole body seemed to blush. We petted each other for a time. And then, all at once, I felt strangely guilty.

“You know, we better get out of here,” I said despondently. “There is too much steam for our hair,”

As we dried off, she said, “Come see what I got for you to give to Charlie.”

“What?” I asked puzzled. We put on our terry robes and went to her room.

Laid out on her bed was a black pair of pants with a fly in the front that consisted of a circular elastic hole with drawstrings. The fabric was very thin, more like surgical pants than jeans, but the fit would be tight. 

“That’s an interesting pair of pants,” I said.

“They’re perfect, aren’t they?”

“Ease of access?”

“Oh, even better than that. If he wants to, he can just walk around with that big beautiful cock hanging out.”

“I see.” It did paint an arresting yet interesting picture. “Do you think he’ll wear them?”

“I think so, but only if they’re from you.”

That comment gave me pause. What was I doing? I had been so buoyed by Alshara’s gifts and so swept up with Amy’s enthusiasm and generosity that I hadn’t really had time to think about what she was getting me and (dare I think it) us – Charlie and me – into. Maybe I’d be better off staying home with Charlie, I thought. Maybe we should find a qiuet a place for just the two of us.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Amy asked earnestly.

“Nothing.” I shook my head, and then I felt compelled to speak. “Okay, no. I am having second thoughts, Amy. I am trying to visualize the kind of night club where it would be acceptable for Charlie to be walking around with his dick sticking out, and, frankly, I am not sure I want go to that kind of place.”

She looked at me like she was trying to gauge my sincerity. Then she laughed so hard she collapsed on the bed and started rolling around.

“What?” I asked with hurt in my voice.

“Oh god, Annie, I thought you were serious.” She sat up on her elbows. “So let me see if I’ve got this right; it was okay for Charlie and Mike to watch while Tom and I ‘totally fucked’ you, but now what? You’re a good girl? You want to be ‘normal’?” 

Amy got up and stood in front of me and took my hands, and for the first time since I had met her, I was scared of her.

“Fuck normal, Annie. You listen to me, girlfriend. There is no normal! You are not crossing any lines. You are not going anywhere you can’t come back from. What we’re doing ain’t wrong, and it ain’t dirty, and it sure as shit ain’t ‘sinful.’ It’s called fun,” she said smiling warmly, and then she kissed me like a sister. 

“And don’t under estimate me. I know what is going on in your head. You’re thinking you might be in love with Charlie.” 

Maybe that was it. Maybe in “leaving all this behind,” their was a part of me that desperately wanted to take something with me.

“You can fall in love anytime, Annie, and you will someday, and you will have a wonderful life. It’s not the kind of life I would want, but I can see it’s the life you want. And no matter what you do right now, when you walk into that life, you will walk into it completely, never looking back. Trust me. I know your type.” Then she paused and looked in my eyes like she had something important to say.

“Do you want that part of your life to start right now?”

“I don’t know.” I felt confused. I wasn’t scared of Amy anymore, but I was scared of something and I strained to keep away even the thought of crying.

“Because it can. You go down there right now, and you can tell Charlie that you love him, and that you don’t want to go tonight, that you just want to be with him. Do you know what he’d say?”




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 11



“What?”

“He’d say, ‘Absolutely. What ever you want Annie.’ He loves and worships you.”

Again she kissed me like a sister. “But right now Annie, I really think you NEED to go out with ME tonight. You have a whole fucking lifetime to be boring. Tonight, you need to have some fun. And Charlie wants that for you. And I know you better than you think; you want it too.”

I looked away from Amy, and I felt lightheaded. I looked at Charlie’s pants, and I realized that I thought of them as Charlie’s pants and that this thing was going to happen. And if it was going to happen, then Amy was right – we might as well have some fun.

“He’ll wear them, then” I said slyly. I looked back at Amy. “He’ll wear them because I want him to wear them.”

Amy squealed in delight and started jumping up and down. “Yes, yes!!! I knew I could get you back. I thought I had lost you there for a second. I thought the whole night was shot. All right, let’s get back into the spirit of things and do this right.”

We discussed what the boys (“our boys”) should wear at some length. I told Amy I thought Tom should wear his poplin khaki shorts with the white oxford shirt and his boat shoes – his “sailboat gear” as I knew it – and she thought it was a marvelous idea. 


We sneaked around the Blues House first floor, rummaging through the guys’ closets and pulled out our “strongly recommended” outfits and laid them out on their respective beds. We were giggly with whispers in our robes. 

For Mike, a black muscle shirt, which we both adored, and his tight faded-black designer jeans (no belt). 

For Charlie there would be no option. The drawstring pants. We paired it with a flimsy-thin white dress shirt with long, sharp collar points (it was the Seventies).

We went back to Amy’s room. She offered to do my makeup. I told her I didn’t want much, but I let her do it because I had always admired how carefully her own makeup was applied. It was soothing and cozy to let her apply my makeup. I liked being pampered. She darkened my eyebrows a little (something I had never thought to do) and drew out my eyelashes with a few brushes of mascara. She gently rubbed a nude base on my face to smooth it out, and used a very light blush. She added just a hint of pale green eye shadow, to bring out my eyes she said, and she finished by touching up my curls with her curling iron and a bit of hairspray. When I looked in the mirror, I was grateful to her. My makeup would have been perfect for a very refined dinner party. 


Amy looked over my shoulder into the mirror. “Not bad, eh?”

“It looks great, Amy. Thank you.”

“It’s perfect. You look perfectly young and healthy and natural, it’s just like you, but with a touch of elegance. Now go try on your outfit, and when you come back I’ll be ready to put on mine.”

I went to my room and took my time getting dressed. I still couldn’t get over the fact that I was going to a club in my new lingerie. I feared I was going to be too nervous to leave my room. When I finally slipped on my robe, I looked at myself in the mirror and I thought I looked hundred times better than I had the night before. I put on the pearl earrings and necklace and looked again. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I let my robe fall open and put my hands on my hips and I gaped at the mirror. 

“I would fuck me,” I said out loud, and then I laughed. 

I slipped off the robe and took another look. I turned to check my back. The bottoms of my bum cheeks were peeking out from their panties and barely draped with gauzy chiffon. Ouch, I thought; that looks hot. 

I took one of my white roses, clipped it three inches from its bloom and cut off the thorns, and I placed it in my hair just over my ear. When I looked again, I was complete. I wouldn’t wear the rose to the club, but I liked it for showing myself off to my housemates. I dabbed a little of my best perfume in strategic places for the finishing touch. 

I started down the hallway for Amy’s room. I had a little difficulty with my first steps in my new heels. I had never worn heels that high as I had always tried to make myself smaller. I was determined to enjoy the notion of making myself even larger than I was, and I worked on walking with some grace. 

When I got to Amy’s room she was naked, her clothes were laid out on her bed, and she was packing a large beach bag with a change of clothes. I cleared my throat.

“Oh my God, get a load of you. What have I done?” Amy stood there naked, staring at me with her hands on her hips, her nipples protruding, her pussy perfectly coifed. I admired her immodesty. Her makeup was neat and simple. With her bouncy haircut and cute round face and slim, waif-like figure, she looked like the girl next door. I twirled around for her to see. 

“What are you wearing?” I asked as I stepped over to her bed to inspect her garments. 

“Take a look. Oh, and then bring down a change of clothes, jeans or something, and I’ll put them in here for the drive home.” She pointed to the beach bag.

She had laid out a finely woven fishnet body stocking. It was seamless and sleeveless with thin shoulder straps and a lunging v-back. It was effectively transparent. I picked it up and inspected it. It hardly weighed a thing. There was an opening in the crotch. I stuck a few fingers through the opening.

“My, this is little drafty, don’t you think?”

She also had sheer elbow-length black lace gloves. Her shoes were black leather granny boots with loads of laces and what looked like four-inch spiked heels. There was a butterfly shaped piece of black leather with snaps along the outer edges. I picked it up.

“There’re shorts.” She explained. “They snap up the sides for quick release. Pretty hot, eh? The shoes have zippers on the sides, too. Functional designs, that’s what I like.”

“I can’t wait to see the whole ensemble.”

“Have a seat.” She held up a bottle of white wine. I nodded yes and she poured out two glasses.

“To us,” she said offering me one glass.

“Cheers,” I replied. 

“And to the chrysalis of Miss Annie Malone,” Amy said and we clinked our glasses.

“To what?”

“To you,” Amy said with a smile.

I stepped out of my heels and sat down on her bed to watch her dress. She put on her gold hoop earrings, a gold rope necklace, the gloves, and a few simple gold bangles on her wrist. She paraded herself for me in only her jewelry and gloves, and I couldn’t help but think that if I were a man, I would think she was about the sexiest a thing I had ever seen. I couldn’t get over how firm and perfectly shaped her breasts were, and how tight her bottom was in comparison to my own jiggle-prone abundance of flesh. 

“You should go just like that,” I cheered her on. 

“I practically am.”

She sat next to me to put her legs into her body stocking and then stood up and pulled it on. The back was low and the sheer fabric framed her bottom attractively. She turned, and I could see her nipples and her pubic hair, but not as distinctly as I had expected. She stepped into her granny boots and zipped them up. She looked spellbinding. I had to complement her.

“Oh, Amy, I am glad I am not a man, because I couldn’t bear the pain you’d cause me. You are captivating.”

She was looking at herself in the dressing mirror and I got up to see what she was looking at. We stood next to each other and admired ourselves.

“I don’t know if the Troubadour is ready for us, girl,” she said, and then she turned to me.

“Give me a hug,” Amy said extending her arms.

We hugged and she put her head against my shoulder. She pressed her body against my robe. 

“Mmm, that fells good,” she purred.

She looked up at me and closed her eyes as if she expected to be kissed. She felt warm and cuddly against me, and our scents mingled, fresh and clean and sweet, and I kissed her. We kissed for a long time. Then she told me that I was one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever encountered, and I blushed as she slipped her hands into my robe, under the chiffon, and touched my naked skin. The lace from her gloves tickled me. We kissed again. Her back was firm and smooth to my touch. She pushed her hands into my panties and kneaded my bum. I was wet with desire.

“You look good enough to eat, Annie”

“Oh, Amy, don’t get me started like this.”

“Just a little bit?” she pleaded.

“We’ll mess up our makeup.” We kissed again.

“We’re messing it up now.” 

She slipped her hand down the front of my panties and pressed her lacy fingers into my dampness. I moaned. She pushed down my panties until they dropped to the floor. I stepped out of them. She sat me down on the edge of her bed, and knelt in front of me, her head slipped under the chiffon. I spread my legs, and she pressed the tip of her tongue against my clit. I shuddered immediately. I laid back and put my feet up on the edge of the bed. She ran her firm little tongue over my downy moistness. 

“You know,” I said, “we could wind up doing this all night, and we’d never get to your club.”

“Just a quickie,” she mumbled into my pussy. 

I watched her head between my legs. I wondered how I had come to this. It was just the two of us, just me and another women – I had never done this before. And then I decided it was just Amy; I didn’t care. I closed my eyes. 

I luxuriated in her efforts to please me. And then I was overcome with a new desire. I leaned up on my elbows.

“I want to taste you,” I heard myself say. 

I suspect it was about the time I made this comment that I realized I had again given up on any concept of decency. Amy had won me over. I was a dirty, conniving sex slut, and that’s all there was to it. I was enraptured with the power and pleasure of my sexuality.

Amy sat next to me on the bed.

I took the rose out of my hair and got down on my knees on the carpet in front of her. She spread her legs and I crawled between them. Her pussy was beautifully hairless with moist, enticingly pink skin peeking through the slit in her satiny smooth mound.

“I’ve never done this before,” I pouted.

Amy laughed and spoke soothingly. “You hadn’t been ass-fucked before either, but that didn’t seem to bother you.”

“Thanks,” I said facetiously. 

For a moment I entertained the thought that Amy’s pussy was much prettier than mine. Her lips were tiny and tight. I let the thought go. I pushed her thighs apart. The fishnet was slippery. The opening in her body stocking spread and her pinkness opened before me. I tasted her. I had tasted myself before, on my fingers and the fingers of men. She tasted less salty, but more pungent. Perhaps it was my proximity to the aroma. 

Her labia were smooth and slippery to my tongue. I flicked her clit. She squeaked with delight. Her slit has hot. I ran my tongue up and down her plump, hairless labia. Her mound was soft and pliant. I pulled the lips of her pussy back, exposing her hot-pink clit. I kissed it delicately, with tightly pursed lips. She purred. I placed her clit between my lips and pinched it. She giggled. I sucked at it, and she moaned. This was a lot less strenuous than sucking cock, I thought, and it was producing more immediate results. 

I was stimulated by the fact that she was excited. I wanted her to come. I wanted to feel the heat and texture of her vaginal walls. I slipped a finger into her, and sucked at her clit more vigorously. She let out a long, low moan. I pulled back to get a better look, and I slipped yet another finger into her, turning my hand palm up and pressing my fingers against the front of her vaginal wall. I massaged her vagina, curling my fingers forward, while I rubbed her clit with my thumb. This was my favorite non-equipment-enhanced self-pleasuring technique, and I was glad to see Amy liked it. 

Her back arched, and she cried out, “Oh Annie, yes.” 

I went deeper, and she was hotter still. My nails were too long that night for me to curl my fingers all the way, as I sometimes liked to do to myself. She reached down for my head. I pulled my thumb away and took her clit back into my mouth. I kept curling my fingers and flicking her clit, and she said, “That’s it,” and I kept going, and she got wetter and wetter.

And then she came. She shuddered. Fluid the temperature of freshly served tea flooded my tongue and fingers. It was tasteless, and thinner than her pussy juice. It was like water running through oil. She pushed my head away, reacting as if her clit were suddenly overly sensitized. She let out a coughing gurgle and then sighed. I pulled my fingers from her. Amy spoke.

“Oh, baby,” and then she mocked my whiny voice, “… ‘never done this before’ my ass.”

“Truth. Good Lord, you’re a wet one.”

“Sorry. You got me gushing. That doesn’t happen very often.”

I was desirous again, but I a different desire.

“I didn’t get to come,” I pouted, fingering myself as I kneeled, staring at her soaked pussy.

“Here,” she said, and she situated herself on her bed stretched out lengthwise.

“Here what?”

“Sit on my face. Go ahead. I’ll redo my makeup. We’ve got time.”

So I did as I was told. I got up and straddled her, positioning my now demanding flesh over her face. I parted my baby doll and rested my haunches on her chest. I smothered her mouth with my pussy, and she went at me with abandon. She lapped and sucked and rolled my clit in her mouth. She scraped it gently with her teeth, and I almost screamed out. She reached up and squeezed my tits. I reached down and pulled my pussy open with my hands, and she started shaking her head wildly, pulling my clit from side to side.

I began to buck my sopping pussy against her face, obliterating what was left of her lovely makeup. I fell forward, my arms on the bed, and she used the opportunity to slip two fingers into me as she suckled my clit. She began massaging the front of my vaginal wall, but more aggressively than I had done for her, and more aggressively than I ever would have dared to do to myself. She pressed into me strongly, rubbing, pushing, and then she worked her fingers like she was running with them, running in place on my vaginal wall, pressing it into my pubic mound. It was excruciating.

And then I was lost. I stopped breathing. My whole body clenched and I disappeared into fiery ball of sensation.

“Uhnoohooooo…” I couldn’t contain myself. It was like I was coming a ten times in rapid succession. I pushed my pussy down on her face. 

And then I heard a male voice.

“Hey, where are you girls?” 

It was Charlie, presumably sticking his head into the door to Amy’s suite. I laughed.

“Coming!” I sang out loudly, and Amy almost suffocated under me in an apoplexy of laughter.



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 12-13



This is a two-chapter segment of a fifteen-chapter novella. I posted the first 11 chapters individually, but really Chapters 11 through 15 relate to one event and, if possible, they ought to be read in one sitting. In any event, the story is about co-ed housemates and is set in the summer of 1979.

*****

“That was incredible,” I said to Amy as I rolled off of her and got up. “Is that some kind of trick?”

“It’s your G-spot,” Amy said. 

I got up and opened the bedroom door a crack and told Charlie to make himself at home for a few minutes.

I pulled on my panties. “Where did you learn about that?”

“From some sex book,” Amy replied

“Whew wee, I should read more. Well, thank you, Amy.”

I looked into her mirror again. “I can’t wait for Charlie to see me,” I said to Amy with girlish enthusiasm. “Can you help me fix my makeup real quick?” 

While Amy administered to me I closed my eye. I was so taken by the sensation of that orgasm, a new type of orgasm, that I began to group my orgasmic experiences in my mind. I decided there were four:

1. There was the clitoral orgasm – nice, tender, shivery and then cuddly sweet and warm; I would rank it a 6 on the orgasm meter.

2. Then there was what I will call the anal orgasm, which is really more of an internal sensation, like a radiant swirl of energy and passionate aching inside; I’d give that a 7.

3. And then there was what I had just experienced with Amy, one of the best orgasms I could recall, and what henceforth I would refer to as my G-spot orgasm – breathtaking, with a momentary loss of consciousness; I’d call that an 8.

4. And finally that deep inside, man-on-women, cock ramming against your cervix, serious pounding and friction, whole-body kind of orgasm – the coveted vaginal orgasm; a 9.

So there it was, I thought – Annie’s Four-Dimensional Theory of the Orgasm. But what was a 10, then? Was there a fifth dimension? I suppose I had left some room for the possibility. Actually, I suppose I knew, but wasn’t quite ready to admit it.

Amy dabbed my face and touched up my mascara. I retied my soft-white baby doll and adjusted my lacy hip-hugger panties. I made one last adjustment to my frosted white stockings. I put on my silky pearl-white robe, set the white rose back in my hair, and took one last look in the mirror. I was a sexy vision in white.

“I look like a bride getting ready for bed on my wedding night,” I opined.

“Or maybe a sacrificial virgin,” Amy offered with a chuckle.

Charlie was on the couch when I came out. I faced him and let my robe fall open. I put my hands on my hips. My pussy was still tingling. 

“Hey Charlie,” I said as sexily as I could.

“Hey,” he replied as he turned to look at me. 

The room was dimly lit, but lit well enough. I counted down from three in my head. Three… two…

“Holy sh… wow, Annie! I mean… wow!” 

I made my way to the center of the room. Charlie got up and walked around my like he was inspecting a new sports car.

“You look soooo sexy.”

He stopped in front of me. In my heels, I was eye-to-eye with him. I stepped up to him and put my arms around his neck and I whispered in his ear. 

“I am so glad you said you wouldn’t go if I didn’t,” I said, “because I wouldn’t go unless you were coming, too.” 

We kissed, and I hoped he didn’t taste Amy. He slipped his hands under my robe and pulled me firmly against him. We kissed covetously. 

I heard Amy clear her throat. We both looked her way. She was standing seductively in the bedroom doorway in her fishnet body stocking, gloves and jewelry. She had one hip thrown out, her arms above her head, hands resting up on the top of the doorframe, stretching like the seductive feline she was. She was shockingly licentious. She was turning ME on (again). I could only imagine her effect on Charlie. The bitch!

“Man oh man. You look…” Charlie again couldn’t think of what to say, “…hot. ” There was an awkward pause. 

“Out with the both of you,” Amy said. “ I’ve got to redo my face.” Amy gave me a sly look. “I’ll be ready to get the boys dressed in a minute.”

I laughed. Charlie looked at me balefully. 

“You’ll see,” I said, “and there’ll be no arguments.”

I sipped a glass of wine in the living room while the boys sat gaping at me. I was standing demurely by the window, trying not to look like I was posing. Finally I gave up. This was too much fun.

“Do you guys want to see it without the robe,” I asked with as much coy innocence as I could effect. They responded eagerly in unison. I set my beer on the window seat and untied the robe and let it slip off my shoulders.

“Good Lord, Annie, that’s indecent!” Tom blurted out, and we all laughed.

“Can we see it from behind?” Mike asked meekly. 

I turned around slowly. I stuck one hip out, and then I gave a little tug on the chiffon, pulling it up just enough to expose my panties, overflowing as they were with my bum cheeks.

“Fuck the Troubadour!” It was Tom again, and I worried he was coming for me.

“Ah ah ah,” I scolded, picking up my robe. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Amy came in to the room. She had put on the leather shorts and boots. Her hair bobbed and swung as she came to a stop in the middle of the room. She shot her arms above her head, stuck out a hip, lifted a knee, and said, “Well, what do you think?”

“I’m in pain. I can’t breathe,” Tom said with true exasperation.

“Told you,” I winked at Amy.

“Watch,” said Amy. She twirled around once, planted herself, and then she grabbed the snap button sides of her shorts and ripped them off like it was a magic trick. 

“Ta da,” said Amy gleefully.

She spread out her legs so that the beginning of the crotch opening was visible. The men applauded politely, and I joined them. So she was so professional, I thought.

“Amazing, simply amazing.”

“You’re a knock out.”

“Ouch,” Tom finally offered. 

I was jealous.

We finished our beers, and then Amy and I took the guys one by one to their rooms and instructed them to dress. Mike and Tom offered no objections, but then they had pretty conservative outfits. Charlie was another story.

“No way,” he said, picking the decadent drawstring pants off his bed. “This is too much.”

“It’s not that radical,” Amy offered. “Trust me. You could wear those down to the club right now and no one would bat an eye. It’s mild by Troubadour standards.”

“Wear it,” I scolded, “or I’m not going.”

“Come on, you can’t be serious.”

“Just try them on, for me, please,” I pouted playfully.

He looked resigned to the task, so we left his room. I sneaked back a minute later. He had the pants on. 

“Let’s see.” I came up behind him. He turned around. “They look great, Charlie.” They really did. “There look, I don’t know, kind of Medieval. Very sexy.”

“Bull.”

“I’m serious. Here…” and I took the liberty of undoing the drawstring fly, “let’s see how it works.” 

I was face to face with him, and I stared into his eyes. I loosened the drawstring and got my hand inside his pants. I took hold of his hefty manhood. It was swelling. I pulled it out carefully. I looked down and redid the string gently. Then I took hold of his cock, swinging free like it was, and looked back into his eyes. 

“That’s not so bad, is it?”

“It’s ridiculous.”

I clenched his thickening shaft and gave it a tug. “I like it.”

“Yow. Okay, maybe it’s not so bad.”

I took a few steps back and inspected him. I had to nod my head in approval. His cock was even more impressive as a stand-alone unit. Against the black fabric it seemed to float in the air in front of him like it was disembodied: nothing but cock – the perfect cock, MY perfect cock – I thought. I loved the thought and the visual impression. 

I moved up to him and pressed my body against his, and I went up and down on my toes as much as I could in my heels, so that his dick rubbed against the chiffon. I took his hands and put them on my bum. I put my arms on his shoulders and kissed him.

“Wear them for me?”

“Okay. For you.”

We were on our way to Canada and the Troubadour Lounge by nine o’clock that night. Charlie drove Amy’s big Ford LTD again, and I sat up front with him because it seemed like the natural order of things. 

The windows were down, the air was warm, the beers were cold, and the tunes were cranked. Amy and I had tried to argue for having the windows up, to save our hair, but our pleas fell on deaf ears. I was glad, actually, because the night air felt good. Our hair would survive.

Amy described the Troubadour as a giant party room with smaller areas and “special” rooms off to the side. The main room resembled a big strip club. I announced that I had never been to a strip club, and everyone laughed. I told them to go fuck themselves. Amy continued.

There were numerous circular, bench-style seating areas and plenty of typical bar tables and chairs, lots of mirrors and disco-style lights, and a huge bar. The room’s main features were two large “exhibition” platforms. The platforms were circular stages with seating all around except for where the steps were. 

“You never know what might go on up there,” Amy said presciently.

The adjoining areas had similar seating arrangements, and in one there was yet a third platform. On Friday nights it was a separate ladies’ club with male strippers. 

There was also a ladies’ lounge that Amy said was a very nice place for the girls to get away from it all and relax and freshening up. There were couches and makeup tables and lockers, and in the bathroom area there were a few showers stalls and always a fresh stock of towels. 

Amy then explained how the Troubadour operated. She told us there were basically two types of customers, tourists and professionals.

Professionals came there to make money. The vast majority of the professionals were women, as that’s where the most of the money was. There were a few heterosexual male professionals, and a few homosexual and “other” male professionals who frequented the club (no, I didn’t ask what “other” meant). While male homosexual activity was basically prohibited (“It makes some guys squeamish,” Amy explained), what people did behind closed doors or outside the club was their own business. 

Tourists came to the club to spend money and be entertained. While tourists were mostly male, on Friday nights there was a male professional revue and anywhere from ten to thirty percent of the tourist crowd might be women, usually in groups. That was one of the reasons Amy wanted us to come with her on a Friday night; the more women tourists that were there, the more the scene resembled a wild party and not a typical, strip club. 

Amy pointed out that it was always the women tourists that caused the bouncers the most trouble. She theorized that men had some kind of genetic instinct for the rules of such a place.

The bouncers oversaw everything, and could be rough on someone who was breaking the rules. Most of the time they were very mellow, however, just trying to politely make sure everyone had consensual fun – and paid their bills, of course.

The bouncers also worked “the line” where tourists waited to get in. It was very much like Studio 54, Amy said, in that the bouncers picked younger, attractive and more interesting people out of the line. Professionals, women, and guys with women almost never had to wait. Nerds, losers, and middle-aged geezers who didn’t look like they had any money waited a long time, often all night. Nerds, losers, and middle-aged geezers who looked like they had cash didn’t have to wait as long. Creeps were told to go home. Women and pros got in free. Male tourists had to pay a ten-dollar cover. 

The club skirted legal issues by declaring itself a club. All first-timers had to sign in and become “members,” but no one every checked for I.D. against the registration. The club then gave you a card to use on future visits. Many of the pros used stage names, she said, and she kidded us to come up with our own. Amy’s registered name was Angelina, but she stopped using it after awhile because she decided it was silly.

As to how money changed hands inside the club, Amy said it was easiest to think of it as give and take. The “givers” perform for the “takers,” and takers tip the givers. If you are just doing something together for fun, well hell, Amy said, that’s free! 

The professionals, and the amateurs that “gave” a lot, had to ante up 20% of the night’s profit to the house before leaving. The bouncers kept track of approximately how much money people were making, and if they tried to skip out or short the house, they would be barred from the club. 

In general, the going fee was ten dollars per song (that’s 1979 dollars – I wouldn’t know what the going rate is for that kind of thing today, of course). Everything was keyed off the music. Amy said the givers always set the rules, and she gave examples, using me as her model (like any of this was actually going to happen, I thought). 

If someone asked me to dance, and I agreed, then he should give me ten bucks at the end of the song. If I let him “cop a feel,” he ought to tip me more, or he might ask for another song. If I didn’t want him to cop a feel, all I had to say was “no touching,” or if it was a slow song, “no grouping,” which meant no ass grabbing or tit fondling or other overtly sexy stuff. 

She went on with a whole bunch of rules for “table dances” and “lap dances,” but I stopped paying attention. I really didn’t think I needed to know about any of that. I decided I was just going to survey the scene and dance with Charlie a few times.

I was intrigued by the platforms (I was there to watch). Amy said they were for drumming up business or for girls who just wanted to dance instead of the one-on-one stuff. The customers seated at the platform were expected to toss a buck per song up on the platform. Wilder and wilder stuff was the norm as the night progressed.

“This place isn’t for the faint of heart, guys. After midnight, anything goes. Girls will be walking around buck-naked, or in some outrageous costume. Almost every weekend night, at least one couple or group will get up on a platform and perform for everyone. So be prepared. The bottom line is to have fun, do only what you want to do, and respect everyone. And if anyone wants to leave,” (ah hem, that would be me, I thought) “we all agreed we would leave together. No big deal.”

“Leave? I might just move in,” Tom said.

It sounded very complicate to me. The guys asked a lot of questions. Tom seemed excited. Charlie seemed strangely indifferent. Mike was anxious. I was nervous, but curious. 

Then Amy told us about the “special” rooms. I don’t know why I listened. Maybe I had some anthropological interest in the practice. Amy explained that if a couple or a group wanted some privacy, there were rooms available. The rooms were different: one had a suspended stirrup seat for pussy play (I had to ask about the stirrup seat – it sounded both ridiculous and interesting); others had couches and mirrors and a few had a queen-sized bed; a few small rooms, “Jack Boxes” she called them, were basically designed for two people with a quick jerk-off/hand-job/blowjob session in mind. “Lots of Kleenex gets used in there,” Amy noted. 

“Gross,” I responded. Amy laughed at me. 

The rooms rented in twenty or fifty-minute increments, and Amy promised us they were meticulously cleaned by a professional, on-site maid service after every session. In rooms with beds, for example, the sheets and pads were changed after every session, and they had additional, freshly laundered pads and sheets stacked in storage cabinets, just in case you wanted to be absolutely sure or you needed a change in mid-session. The rooms ran from $10 for a quickie in a “Jack Box” to $50 for fifty minutes or $30 for twenty minutes in the bigger rooms. 

In addition to sounding complicated, it sounded seamy, and I told Amy this. She swore I wouldn’t think so once I was there. Sex can be such a sticky mess, I thought. I wasn’t sure I wanted any part of this. 

“Amy,” I said, “it sounds like a glorified whorehouse.”

“It is, I guess, but what’s wrong with that? Have you ever been in a whorehouse?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, than, how do you know it’s not a blast?”

“I don’t, but...”

“It’s just a party, Annie. The music is great. You’re in good company. For crying out loud, relax.”

“Sure.” Easy for you to say, I thought.

Tom had brought a small cooler of beer, and we shared a few more. We smoked a joint and joked with each other about stage names and, somehow, the names men give to their penises. We started to list what we thought were the worst and best names for either purpose. 

On the worst list, we came up with Wimpy, Lumpy, Droopy, Stubby, Slack, Meat, Fester, Itchy, Putz, Pinky, Slim, Chick, Goober, Rufus, Potsy, Dudley, Hermy, and Stinky. 

We were divided by gender on whether Hog was a good or bad name.

On the best list, we liked Brutus, Anaconda, Big Daddy, Goliath, Pokey, Hambone, T-Bone, T-Rex, Rocket, Zeus, Thor, Thunder, Stallion, and my favorite, Moby.

When we got to the Canadian border, I tried as hard as I could to wrap my robe around me and make it look like a dress. Amy had put on a blue jeans jacket. They waived us through without a hitch. 

It was another forty minutes to the Troubadour. It was off a two-lane highway headed for what appeared to be nowhere. There was only a small neon sign on the roadway depicting a strolling minstrel. One hundred-foot pine trees surrounded the parking lot and the building, which looked like a warehouse, was painted pitch black. 

The gravel parking lot covered at least two acres and was fairly full. The sweet, cotton-candy-like pine scent in the air was intoxicating. The gravel crunched under our tires. 

The entry to the club was a gable-roofed addition to the building with a larger neon sign that said “The Troubadour Lounge Club” in brilliant pinks and blues. There was a line of about thirty men waiting to get in. 

I feigned modesty when it was time to get out of the car, but I could see a few other women walking into the place, and I was definitely not underdressed. It reminded me of sexy pajama party I attended back when I lived in a co-ed dormitory.

We followed Amy up to the two bouncers at the entryway. They both had on black T-shirts and black jeans with studded black leather belts. They were huge.

“Amy’s here! All right, let the party begin,” the largest bouncer said.

“Shut up, Mack.” Amy smiled back at us as she said this.

The bouncers were looking at me like I was mouthwatering piece of meat. Hoots and whistles came up from the line for Amy and me.

Amy sashayed past the bouncers, and Mack opened the door for us.

“Your boys will have to pay,” he said to Amy as she walked by.

“I know, Mack.”

There was a window like a theater ticket booth in the room past the door. Another large double door led into the club. We took care of the paperwork.

A new song started just as we got to the big doors – Madness’ “One Step Beyond….” The deep bass and curt saxophone riff and beckoned us in. Charlie and I looked at each other. Cool, we said with our eyes. We pushed through the doors as if on cue.

Light and sound hit us in waves. Lit disco balls swirled in the air. The music was loud, but not deafening. Colored lights flashed on the floor. There was a lot of candy for the eye. The place was bigger and cleaner and newer then I had imagined. 

But the most startling features of the place, with out a doubt, were the customers. 

I was shocked to see that there were almost more women than men. Scantily clad women in lingerie and leather were everywhere. Naked women were dancing and displaying themselves on the platforms. Naked or near-naked women were sitting on men’s laps or doing private dances for them in every corner of the room. 




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 12-13



The dance floor was active with all kinds of hip grinding dancers. Many of the tables were occupied with couples and groups sipping drinks and talking calmly amid the orgiastic chaos around them. If some of the women at those tables hadn’t been dressed so shockingly, you would have thought they were all just old friends out to the local bar.  

Amy forged ahead, but the rest of us shuffled slowly, mesmerized. Two brightly painted bleach-blond women, naked from the waist up with gigantic torpedoes for breasts, worked their way through us saying excuse me politely. It was a world I had never visited before. I was full of nervous energy.

Amy waived us over to a circular booth with a table. We all sat down, and everyone save Amy had befuddled looks on their faces.

“Goddamn, Amy, this is so way cool it's…” Tom was at a loss for words.

“It’s tits!” Charlie offered enthusiastically. Mike still looked stunned. A waitress came by. Her hair was short and jet black, and she was wearing only a bra, panties, and knee-high boots, all black.

“Hey, Amy. Good night, eh?” She said, sounding Canadian with the “eh.”

“Hey Claire. As my friend here said, ‘It’s tits!’” 

“Can I get you kids something?” 

I almost burst out laughing. She spoke to us like she was taking our order at a greasy spoon. The guy’s ordered beers. I ordered a white wine, and Amy said, “Make it a bottle.” 

“Have fun,” Claire said, and as she walked away, every guy at our table was staring at her ass. 

Amy excused us, and, with wine glasses in hand, Amy took me to the ladies’ lounge. Amy put her big bag with our change of clothes in a locker. She suggested I keep extra money in the pocket of my spare jeans.  No one on the floor would take my money from me, she said, but it was still better to be safe. Again, I told her I wasn’t planning on making any money. 

The women’s lounge was a beehive of activity. Women were changing their outfits and applying makeup and adjusting their hair. Two large brunettes strode past me naked on their way to the showers. Most of the women were young, attractive, and dressed in sexy outfits. The tourists were somewhat obvious: younger women in blue jeans and sweaters, a few middle-aged women in less than flattering slacks and blouses, and a group of bespectacled secretaries in unassuming dresses on a girls-night-out. I realized that Amy had made sure I wouldn’t pass for a tourist.

One woman caught my attention. She was seated in a lounge chair with large armrests and she was using a compact to apply her makeup. She was wearing a sleeveless black cocktail dress with a conservative v-neck and a plunging back and she had on sheer black hose with black, spiked pumps. Her legs were crossed. She was in her forties, I guessed, and she seemed wildly out of place, too elegant for the surroundings, like she should have been in the cocktail lounge of the Ritz. 

Her heather blond hair was pulled up tightly in a bun. There were faint highlights of red and brown in her hair. I caught myself staring at her, and our eyes connected. Her eyes were misty-green, like mine. I looked away. She put her compact in her purse, got up from her chair, and walked past me very closely as she left. She was as tall as I was – a rarity. Her perfume was subtly herbal, not floral like most of the girls. 

I watched her leave and my eyes were drawn to her long, shapely legs. She was obviously comfortable on heels, and her hips shifted effortlessly as she walked away. Strangely, she captivated me.

“Hello!” Amy waived her hand in front of my face. “Come on, girl, let’s go have some fun and make some cash.”

I smiled at Amy. “You’re incorrigible.” 

Two girls had joined Mike and Charlie at the table. Tom wasn’t there. One girl was Hispanic, with thick, flowing hair and perfect skin. She was wearing a white tank top undershirt and skimpy, white bikini briefs (like she had forgotten she was in her underwear when she left the house), and she was seated next to Mike with her hand in his lap. 

The other girl had tight black curls and milky-white skin with freckles. She was thin, but her breasts filled her red tube top. Her nose was long and her almond shaped eyes were large and dark. She was interestingly beautiful. She was obviously trying to talk Charlie into a lap dance.

“Fucking vultures,” Amy said to me as we approached. “Beat it, bitches!” Amy said harshly when she got to the table.

“Hey, Amy, don’t tell me these cuties are with you,” the Hispanic girl said with a beaming smile.

“Actually, you can have ‘em. They’re dead weight. Rita, Melissa, this is Annie.”

We sat down with them. The Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” boomed out. Mike and Charlie seemed tongue-tied. Amy encouraged the four of them to go off for a lap dance. We let them out, and the girls led Mike and Charlie to a less busy area. Amy and I watched. 

“They’re great girls – lot’s of fun. Melissa’s been coming here for years, even longer than me. Rita’s fairly new.”

I watched carefully as Rita and Melissa went to work. The guys were seated about fifteen feet apart on a long bench seat against the wall. Rita spread Mike’s legs out and stood between them, rubbing her hands over her body, pulling and tugging at her flimsy underthings. She put her hands on Mike’s thighs and leaned into him, pressing her tits into his face. 

Melissa straddled Charlie’s legs. She pulled up her hair with one hand and pulled down her tube top with the other, freeing her generous breasts. She took Charlie’s hands and showed him how to pet her breasts. I wondered if I should be jealous. I wasn’t at all. I just wanted Charlie to have fun.

“Charlie looks like he’s tuning in Tokyo,” Amy laughed.

Rita turned around and slowly pulled down her little panties, sticking her bronze bottom high in the air, as if she wanted Mike to sniff it.  She sat down in his lap, back to him, and began undulating, grinding her ass into Mike’s lap. How scandalous, I thought. Mike put his hands on her sides, and she took them in hers and slid them under her shirt. Mike gripped her sprightly breasts, and she bounced on him, just a little bit, laughing as she did it. 

She stood up, turned around and straddled him. She pulled her tank top off over her head, slowly, and pushed her breasts into Mike’s face. Mike cupped her ass in his hands, and again she began to bounce. She was completely naked (except for her heels). Her skin was smooth, the color of coffee with cream. Mike was in heaven, for sure. His Cheshire Cat grin gave him away.

Melissa was more of a temptress. She danced farther away from Charlie, touching his knees and swaying her breasts back and forth. She unbuttoned her white, hip-hugger shorts, but she didn’t pull them off right away. She danced holding her hair above her head. She would shake and jiggle her titties as she twirled around for Charlie. He sat there, gaping. 

Her breasts were covered with freckles and they were heavy and voluptuous and she knew how to use them. Finally, she spread Charlie’s legs out and walked up to him. She took his hands and put them on her hips. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned her big tits into his face. She whispered and blew in his ear. 

Charlie pulled down on her shorts. They dropped to the floor. Her red tube top was still clinging insignificantly to her ribs. No panties. Her ass was bright, with cute little brown moles. She put her hands up to her head again and turned around.  Her pitch-black little tuft of pubic hair stood out against her pale skin. She gyrated and undulated. The song came to an end, and she sat down in his lap. 

“That should get ‘em up,” Amy said. She stopped watching them and turned to me. I was still fascinated, and I watched as both girls redressed and both boys fumbled with their wallets. 

A slow song came on, “Allison” by Elvis Costello. A young man seemingly appeared out of nowhere and asked me to dance. He was cute and thin, T-shirt and jeans, moppy brown hair. 

“Go on,” said Amy. 

I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know what to do, so I said yes.

He led me by the hand to the dance floor. We faced each other. I tightened my robe and stepped closer to him. I was an inch taller than him in my heels. He put one hand on my hip and held my other hand up to his shoulder. We swayed to the music.

“What’s your name?” he asked sheepishly.

“Annie.”

“I’m Ted.” He looked like he had something more to say, so I encouraged him with my eyes.

“You are very beautiful, Annie.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“No. I don’t have to – not here.” He smiled at his little joke. So did I.

The hand on my hip began to wander cautiously. I thought it was endearing. After a minute, his hand wandered over my ass. I was okay with that, I discovered. I took my hand out of his and put my arms over his shoulders, and looked him in the eye.

“Do you come here often, Ted?”

“I’ve been here a few times. And you?”

“First time.”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

He put both hands on my hips. We swayed and turned slowly. Then I did the strangest thing. I kissed Ted on the cheek, and then I pressed my cheek against his and breathed ever so softly in his ear. He cupped my ass in his hands and pulled me against him. We swayed like that until the song ended. A disco song started. I stepped away from Ted.

“Here,” Ted said, and he handed me a ten dollar bill. I took it and slipped it into a pocket on my robe. 

“Maybe we will see each other around,” I said, walking away.

“Yea, maybe.”

*********

Chapter 13

When I got back to the table, Mike and Charlie and Tom were talking excitedly. I looked around for Amy. She was doing a lap dance for a very large man in the corner. She looked like a little doll as she climbed around on him and danced between big legs. 

I sat down at the table and took a sip of wine. Amy and I had almost finished the bottle. The guys ignored me. They were prattling on about how hot the place was and which girl was the sexiest. I watched Amy. She stood on the booth seat, feet next to his hips, and she pushed her crotch right up to his face. She bucked gently. She put one foot up on the back of the seat, by his shoulder, spreading herself even more.

“My God, has the girl no modesty?” I said to myself under my breath.

“Did you say something, Annie?” Charlie asked.

“Are you watching Amy?”

The guys turned to see.

The large man was now grabbing Amy’s ass, pushing his face into her crotch. She kept rocking her hips. He was eating her out through the crotch-opening of her body stocking. Amy was clasping his hair in her hands. She let go, brought her foot down and turned around. She put her hands on her knees and backed her ass up to his face. She reached behind her with one hand and pulled his head into her. She saw us watching and smiled.

“Damn, that girl’s crazy, eh?” said Tom.

Part of me wanted to be disgusted. Instead, I felt myself moisten. I wanted some more wine, or a drink, or something. As if reading my mind, Tom pulled out a joint.

“I’ve seen a few people toking up in here. I think it’s okay.” He lit up and he and Charlie and I passed it around. Mike got up. When he was out of earshot, I said, “Ten-to-one he’s looking for Rita.”

The songs changed, but Amy and her big guy kept going on. The dope went to my head.

“Having fun, Charlie?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Come with me.” I was feeling in the spirit of things now, and I had an idea.

I handed Tom the roach and took Charlie by the hand. At the far platform a new girl was just taking the stage. As I dragged Charlie along I spotted Mike talking with Rita. I waived. I sat Charlie down at the platform and I motioned to the waitress. 

“Two Molson’s,” I said, and I handed her my newly earned ten. I sat down next to Charlie.

The girl on the platform couldn’t have been much older than eighteen. What caught my eye about her was that she seemed nervous about taking the stage. While we were smoking the joint I had watched the little drama unfold. I suspected her girlfriend had goaded her into it. 

She had her brown hair back in a ponytail. She was wearing a yellow halter that tied behind her neck and clipped together in front, between her breasts. The bottom was a matching yellow bikini that tied at the hips. She was barefoot, which I thought was a nice touch. There were seven or eight guys around the table. I was the only woman. She started slowly, cautiously. 

“What do you think?” I asked Charlie as the waitress set down our beers and set down my change.

“She’s cute. She looks like she’s in high school.” 

The song was “Games people Play” by the Spinners. She was becoming more daring, sexier. She shot out her hips to the beat of the music, first one side and then the other. She backed into the brass pole in the center of the platform and swung around it once. She stretched out her arms and tossed her shoulders about, shaking her tits. 

Her skin was smooth and clear. She wasn’t short, but her hips were wide and sturdy. Her face was wholesome and pleasant, but when she smiled she looked devilish. She had a woman’s body, but a girl’s demeanor. She was healthy and clean and bright, and I envied her innocence even as I wondered who was the more innocent between us. She was gorgeous.

I watched Charlie as he gleaned at her intently. I scooted my chair over so that it touched his, and I whispered in his ear.

“Does she turn you on?” I knew that she did. It was why I had picked her out. She looked like I would imagine that Amy and I would look if we morphed. 

“Yes.” He looked at me like he wanted to say more, but was at a loss for words. He looked pained.

“It’s okay. Enjoy.” 

I put my hand in his lap. She undid her halter behind her neck, but she didn’t let her top fall. She held the strings up playfully. I set a dollar bill on the platform in front of Charlie. She walked over until she was astride the bill, then she squatted down in front of Charlie with her knees spread wide. 

She shifted one way and then the other. She opened and closed her legs for Charlie. I could feel something stirring in his pants. She got down on her knees and let her top fall, uncovering her breasts. Her nipples were dark and tight and small and erect. Her breasts were shapely and soft. She pouted at Charlie. 

“Can you help me?” she asked him in a silly voice as she stuck out her chest. 

Charlie reached up and unclasped her halter and it fell away from her. She leaned up on her knees and put her hands on Charlie’s shoulders. She wiggled, and her breasts swayed back and forth. She smelled like strawberries. Charlie was finally sporting a boner.

She stood up, and now there were dollars in front of every man at the table. She took her time. She tugged at her bikini bottoms up, exposing her tan lines. Her bottom was perfectly white. She bent over and touched her toes, and then she ran her hands up and down the backs of her thighs. Charlie sighed. 

“She’s good,” Charlie said dreamily. 

I moved my hand over his erection. I followed it up to his belt line and then back down to its base. I found the drawstring and untied it. I started to work my hand into the opening in his pants. 

“Oh jeez,” he sighed. 

“Just watch her,” I whispered in his ear. I pulled on his cock. It didn’t want to come out. It was too big for the hole. I widened the opening and tried a different angle. It sprung out. He sighed again. We each inched up closer to the table. We both took a sip of beer. I found one of the drawstrings and tugged it until it was slightly snug around the base of his now rock hard cock. Then I took it in my hand and stroked it.  

On stage, the young woman was collecting her cash. A new song started. It was a slow song, something terrible by Styx. “Laaaay day, when I’m with you….” Oh well. 

She pulled on both bows at her hips. She was facing Charlie. She let the back part of her bottoms fall between her legs. She held the strings to the side. I set another dollar in front of Charlie. She squatted in front of Charlie again. This time she sat down. She was still holding her bikini bottoms to cover her pussy. She scooted up close to the edge of the platform and put her feet on the table rail. She lay back until she was prone. 

I stroked Charlie a little harder. He grunted under his breath. This was kind of fun, I thought. 

She let go of the strings, and her bikini bottoms dropped on the table in front of us. I could smell her scent. Her pussy was delicate with downy fur and her slit was glistening. She obviously enjoys her work, I thought.

She let her knees fall a little wider. She started opening and closing her legs, and Charlie stared at the lips of her vagina as they undulated with the movement. She arched her back and touched herself. I gave Charlie a mighty squeeze. Her prim, pristine little pussy was six inches from Charlie’s eyes, and he was licking his lips repeatedly. 

She sat up and looked at me. “Do you want him to touch it?”

“Yes,” I said quickly.” She nodded at me and smiled, and I caught her drift. I set my last dollar on the platform.

“You can touch it if you’d like,” she said sweetly to him. 

First time my ass, I thought. I had obviously misread her earlier exchange. Charlie ran his finger along her soft little twat. I stroked him as hard as I could without banging my hand and the head of his dick against the table.  She pulled up her legs and fully exposed herself. I thought I felt a quiver in Charlie’s penis, and I slowed down. I was getting a little juiced myself, I noticed.

He kept touching her. She held her knees and moaned. Again I saw that all the men had set out dollars. She rolled over onto her knees, and Charlie pulled his hand away. She crawled away from us, ass held high in the air. She started working on another patron.

I whispered in his ear, “Come with me.” 

He tried to get his dick back in his pants. 

“Don’t,” I said. “Leave it out.” 

He looked at me skeptically. 

“Come on, big guy.” I stood up and took his hand. When he stood up, I admired his boner. So did others. He was blushing. He followed me to an empty corner. I watched the looks on people’s faces as we went past. Their eyes were drawn to Charlie’s magnificent erection. 

The song was “My Sharona” by the Knack. I pushed him into the seat. I lifted up my robe and straddled him, and his erection rubbed against my panties. I took his hands and placed them on my breasts. The robe was slinky and slippery to his touch. I took off my robe and set it beside him. I slithered around on his lap, and I could feel his woody pressing against my panties. I bounced on him ever so carefully. 

I decided to go for it – what the hell. I untied my baby doll and let it slip off my shoulders. I held my hands up to my hair and bounced again to the music, and my now naked breasts bounced, and I liked the feel of it. He grabbed me by the waist and accentuated my movement. I looked over the back of the seat and saw four young men watching me, frat boys in polo shirts and khaki slacks with beers. I smiled at them. One raised his beer to me. 

I put my hands on Charlie’s shoulders and pressed my breasts into his face. I rocked my hips, rubbing his penis against my crotch. I kept smiling at the frat boys. I got up and stood in front of Charlie, facing him. I swayed, arching my back, swiveling my hips. I spread his legs and stood up close to him. I reached down and petted his hard on. I turned around and wiggled my ass, and slowly I pulled down my panties. 

I heard a whistle from behind our booth. I stepped out of my panties. Except for my stockings, heels, and pearls, I was naked. There were well over a hundred people in the place, and I felt like they were all watching me (though I knew only a few handfuls were). 

Charlie grabbed my ass. I wiggled it again. I put my hands behind my head and shook my hips heartily to the music. I started to laugh. I looked up in front of me and saw Ted watching me with wide eyes from a distance. I smiled at him. 




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 12-13



Charlie pulled me down into his lap. I felt his enormous penis pulse hot and angry against my butt. He reached around and grabbed my breasts. I flexed my cheeks, squeezing his penis. 

“Oh,” he said. I bounced. I wiggled. I pushed down on him like I was settling my butt into the sand. I stood up, turned around, and straddled him again. I let the head of his dick nuzzle my pubic hair. I pushed myself up and down, tickling him. Then I held myself up so that the tip of his dick touched my now hot slit ever so lightly.  I sat back down, this time on his thighs, and I took his penis in my hand and caressed it. Charlie smiled at me. The song ended.

“Wow, Annie.”

I stood up and grabbed my panties. I pulled them on, and then I stood in front of Charlie and held out my hand, palm up. He looked at me quizzically as he stuffed his boner back in his pants.

“Tip,” I said, and I rubbed my fingers with my thumb. He laughed.

“Okay.” He pulled out his wallet and retrieved a ten-dollar bill. 

“Oh, c’mon!” I chided, and I tried to be all business, but I had to smile.

“Okay,” Charlie said, and he gave me another ten.

I put on my baby doll and took my robe and walked away. I shook my head and laughed. 

Believe it or not time: over the next hour and a half, I made $135 doing lap dances (including tips). The strange thing is, I thought it was out of the question going in, but by the time I had danced with Ted and lap danced for Charlie, I liked the idea. I was having FUN. 

Much to my surprise, the guys were great. I danced for Ted twice. He was sweat about it. Others cracked jokes. Most were pretty casual about it. The “no creep” rule seemed to work. I felt sexy and hot, and I liked teasing the guys and thinking of them masturbating as they fantasized about me in the days to come. 

I put most the money in my jeans in the locker. I kept a few tens in the pocket of my robe. I decided I was through with my lap-dance experiment. I sat back down at our table and ordered a beer. Charlie and Mike were there. 

“Hey, hey, if it isn’t our prodigal girl. Having fun?” Charlie was teasing me.

“As a matter of fact, I am.” 

“Have you made as much money as we’ve lost?” Mike asked dejectedly.

“I hope so.”

“We’re all lap-danced-out,” Charlie offered.

“Which is another way of saying we are out of cash,” Mike chimed in.

“You want a loan?” I felt generous.

“No thanks,” they said in unison.

The waitress brought my beer. It was ice cold and tasted great. Mike excused himself saying he had been dying to see a dance by a woman taking one of the platforms. Charlie said he’d be right back and went to the bathroom. I was alone at the table. I looked around for Amy or Tom, but didn’t see either of them. I sipped my beer and took in the scene.

After a while of looking, I spotted her, the older woman in the black cocktail dress. Our eyes met again. She came over to the table. I was nervous.

“Hello. May I join you for a moment?” Her voice was deeper than I expected, but very feminine. I nodded and she sat down. “May I buy you a drink?” 

“I just got this one.” I took a sip of my beer.

“It’s almost gone. Here,” she motioned to a waitress going by. “Two double vodkas on the rocks please. Stoly.” The waitress looked at me to confirm the order.

“Yes, that sounds good.” I was intrigued.

She gave the waitress a few bills and told her she could keep the change.

“You’re very pretty.” She looked at me as if she expected a response.

“Thank you.”

“My husband thinks you are beautiful.” She leaned towards me as if she had a secret to share. “He says you remind him of me when I was young.”

She pointed to a man seated at the end of the long bar. He nodded at us. He had short brown hair that was combed back with gel, gray at the temples, and a shock of gray at the hairline above his forehead. Like her, he looked out of place, but he wasn’t overdressed. He had on an oxford short sleeve shirt and jeans. He was in good shape for his age. He looked out of place because he looked like a corporate executive on retreat.

She took out a cigarette and lit it. Our drinks arrived. I looked back into her green eyes and waited.

“My husband and I have a very open relationship. I like to think of it as my job to see that he is happy. I would like to make you a proposition.”

I took a sip of the vodka. It chilled my tongue. “I am not a prostitute.”

“I am certain that you are not. I just want you to dance for him – for us, really. Somewhere quiet, away from the crowd.” She looked at me again as if she expected a response. I looked back at her husband. He was watching us. I didn’t know what to say.

“I will pay you $100 for twenty minutes of your time,” she said and it startled me.

“Just to dance?” I asked.

“Yes, like you did for your friend, the handsomely-endowed young man.” She winked at me.

“You mean him?” Charlie came back to the table. “Charlie, I’d introduce you, but…”

“Victoria. It is a pleasure to meet you Charlie.” Victoria held out her hand and Charlie took it gingerly.

“Hi.” Charlie was bemused. I moved over so he could sit down. 

“I want it to be a gift from me.” Victoria took a long drag on her cigarette. “I won’t keep you any longer. What is your name, dear?”

“Annie.”

“Well, Annie, I hope you will come see us.”

She left the table and rejoined her husband.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

“She’s a looker for an older gal.”

“Yes, she is.” 

Amy came to the table. She was excited . “Annie, Annie, come with me.” As soon as she got to the table, she started walking away, tipping her head to indicate I should follow. “You’ll love this.”

“What?”

Charlie got up anticipating I would follow Amy. He shrugged his shoulders. Amy took my hand and I followed her. She led me into the side room with the platform. About thirty touristy looking women were mingling by the stage like they had just decided to have a convention, and they were all atwitter.

We stopped and Amy leaned up against a back wall. “You’ve got to see this.” 

“What is it?” I half expected Wayne Newton to take the stage. 

“It’s the revue I told you about. Just watch.”

The music started. “YMCA” by the Village People. The women started to cheer. An unmarked door against the far wall swung open and I could see the heads of two men stride into the room. The first was an olive-skinned man with a square jaw and long, flowing, black-brown hair. His forehead was high and his neck was thick and sinewy. He was breathtaking. 

“Good lord,” I said to Amy, “he looks like he just jumped of the cover of a romance novel.”

“He’s dreamy, isn’t he?” Amy said only half-facetiously. 

They marched towards the stage. The olive-skinned man stopped and grabbed one of the secretaries and spun her around into his arms. He kissed her neck and she went limp. I suspected she was faking, but it was hard to say. I laughed with Amy. 

The second man passed them by. He was fair-skinned and bigger and bulkier than the darker one. He looked like a bodybuilder. His blond hair was buzz cut to a flat top. He had on dark Ray Ban sunglasses. He was the first to take the stage. He was immense. He was barefoot in a skin-tight, black T-shirt and shiny, black leather pants with a silver studded belt. His arms were so think they looked like legs and they strained against the thin cloth of his shirt. His chest was broad and flexed as he moved. His hips were narrow, and his thighs were athletic. 

“His stage name is Apollo,” Amy yelled above the music. “The other one is Dare.”

“I thought I hadn’t heard her. “Dare?”

“Yes, Dare, as in ‘I DARE you!’” Amy thought that was funny.

Dare then took the stage. He was wearing a white vest made of ribbed cotton and mid-calf beach pants with a drawstring at the waist. He was also barefoot.  “I’d spend a day on the beach with him,” I said to Amy. 

“I bet that could be arranged.”

We sat down at a table near the wall. The scene was electric. I found it momentarily unfathomable that these two studs were about to take off their clothes. I was oddly nervous. Apparently I was also capable of being atwitter.

“These women are crazy, aren’t they?” Amy said over the din. Women were squealing like little girls on a roller coaster. They were pushing against each other to get closer to the stage. It would have frightened me, I thought, if I had been on stage, but the guys seemed to love it. 

Apollo was kneeling in front of a woman who was running her hands over his abdomen and chest. Dare pulled of his vest. His skin was the color of honey, and it seemed to have been poured over his rippling muscles. His beach pants hung low on his hips and his stomach muscles looked like they were cascading down the front of him. His oblique muscles were pronounced, like little handles that I could hang on to (you know, in my imagination). He put his hands behind his hips swiveled his hips around slowly, teasingly. He took my breath away. Shouts filled the room.

“Yeah, baby!” “Come on, sugar!” “Shake it!”

There was some kind of feminine version of howling going on that I would have found extremely annoying in a different context. The men took turns working the crowd at the stage. Apollo literally ripped his shirt off. The power his muscles exuded was awe-inspiring. He looked strong enough to throw me ten feet in the air. He flexed more than he danced, but that was okay by me. 

By the end of the song, dollar bills were covering the floor. A woman gathered them up between songs. The two of them kept working. “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC came on, loud and brash. I couldn’t help myself. I started rocking and nodding my head to the music. Amy and I looked at each other, and I realized I had a big, goofy grin on my face. She busted out laughing. The song blared: “I’m working double time on the seduction line….” 

“Having fun?” Amy yelled.

“You bet.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“That should be the next song.”

“That will be the next song. It’s their set.”

Apollo jumped down off the stage and danced with a big, fat girl with glasses. I thought she was going to collapse. Dare started tugging at the drawstrings of his pants. I was feeling a little faint myself. Someone whistled incredibly loud. He turned around and slowly revealed his cute, firm little but cheeks, no tan lines. He pulled his pants back up. The crowd roared its disapproval.

They both worked the crowd, and it was pandemonium for a while. I thought they were going to have to call in a bouncer. The song changed. BTO, “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet.”  Dare took the stage, facing away from us. As if on queue, his pants dropped. He started flexing his buttocks muscles, first one cheek, and then the other. It was rather amazing. He was in black thong. When he turned to face our way, I was amazed.

“You will love this!” Amy yelled at me. 

The mound of his genitals was gargantuan in the pouch of his thong. It stretched the black latex to its limits. Amy yelled at me again.

“And he’s not even hard yet.”

I was momentarily speechless. Finally, words came forth.

“That’s fucking amazing,” I said earnestly. Not very eloquent, I know, but descriptive.

Half the crowd of women seemed stunned. The other half screamed their appreciation and encouragement. He undulated his hips in a way that made my loins tingle and flutter unfamiliarly. Under the table, my hand was tickling the puffy flesh under my panties. 

“This is obscene,” I said to Amy. She burst out laughing again.

“That’s kind of the idea, sweetheart.” Amy scooted her chair close to mine. She put her arm around me and whispered in my ear.

“Wait.” She rubbed my back as we looked on.

Apollo kept making his way through the throng of women. I leaned against Amy and said, “He’s kind of like the organ grinder’s monkey, eh?”

Amy laughed until she had to put her head down on the table. “An organ grinder’s monkey, that’s precious.” 

On stage, Dare went from woman to woman, letting them rub his breathtaking bulge. It started to grow. One woman with big hair, obviously drunk and having the time of her life, put what must have been a larger bill on the stage because it caught Dare’s eye. He walked over to her. His thong was pulled away from his body under the strain of his projectile-like penis. 

“Here we go.” Amy’s breath was hot against my ear. Her tongue flicked my earlobe. I was now clutching myself. 

Dare squatted in front of her. His legs flexed stunningly. He was sat on his heels. He leaned up, and his knees slid down from the edge of the platform and came to rest on the table. He took her hand and placed it in on his bulge. He put his hands on the sides of his thong and, as if pulling tabs, he released the flimsy garment. The woman with big hair threw it in the air. What I saw made me gape.

“Now there is a cock worth crowing about,” Amy said against my ear.

I was so nervous and overcome that I started laughing hysterically. His immensity stuck straight out from him. It was both beautiful and frightening. The woman with the big hair was not deterred. She grabbed hold of it with both hands. I thought if he stood up, she would be left dangling from it like a monkey on limb. He put his hands flat on the stage behind him and arched his body. She let go of him and the thing sprang up in the air.

“How big do you think it is?” I was trying to gauge the size of him. Charlie was substantial, but not AWE-inspiring. Dare was standing now, hands on his hips, allowing us to admire him.

“Eleven inches.  That’s what he says. Probably more like ten.”

I guessed that five to six is about average, like Tom. Charlie was close to eight, if I had to guess. I decided I would have to take a ruler to it when we got home. 

“I don’t think he’s lying.”

“You’re right. He doesn’t have to.”

As Dare moved about the stage, I felt strangely uninhibited and hyper-sensitized, like I was experiencing a heightened state of awareness. It was an unfamiliar feeling. There was something about watching a healthy, strong man parade around with a full-bore erection that was energizing me, not just sexually, or even sensuously, but spiritually, like an awakening of some sort. It was instinctual and ceremonial. I had to share my observation with Amy.

“I feel like were at some kind of fertility ritual, like African chants are going to break out. We should have spears and shields and drums should be pounding.”

“I know what you mean. It is so primordial and deliciously pagan. That’s why they always try to get this show in early. It really loosens things up. Sometimes too much.” 

Dare started dancing with the women around the stage, taking their dollar bills and throwing them behind him. Apollo got back on the stage. Somewhere in his trip through the crowd he had lost his pants. He was also wearing a black thong, but his equipment didn’t seem nearly as impressive. Still, I was intrigued. 

There was a bottle of oil near the brass bar at the center of the platform. He rubbed the oil into his hands and started rubbing his body. He pointed to two women at the steps, and they came up on stage. 

Her poured dollops of oil into there cupped hands. He set down the bottle and put his hands behind his head, flexing. The women took to rubbing the oil into his body. The women were young and pretty, but definitely tourists. They were obviously friends, and they were giggling nervously as the worked the oil into his chest and stomach. 

Areosmith, was playing: “Sweet emotion….” Apollo pulled at the sides of his thong and it fell away. I noticed for the first time that Apollo was absolutely hairless. His smooth, thick penis floated in front of him. He had no tan lines. He was gorgeous.  His penis swelled and stiffened in front of him as the women rubbed him with oil. They were on either side of him, standing sideways, and they were working the oil into the front of him with one hand while rubbing his back with the other. 

One girl started to stroke him. His body glistened in the colored lights. Women were cheering. I was flush. I was horny. My father had taught me long ago how to whistle like a man, and for some reason I let loose with an ear-splitting whistle. Amy giggled.

“Go for it Annie.”

Apollo stretched his arms straight up in the air, and his muscles seemed to lengthen. The blonde woman kept stroking him. The brunette rubbed his stomach. I thought he was going to spurt for sure. Hell, I thought maybe I was going to spurt something. He didn’t. He led the women off the stage. Dare walked by in front of us. 

“Hey, Amy.”

“Looking good, David.”

I assumed that was his real name.

He winked at the two of us and gave his giant wand a tug. “I’m saving myself just for you, beautiful.”  Did he say that to me or Amy? I think I imagined the misdirection.

A woman goosed him, and he made a silly face, mocking shock. He smiled and made his way back on stage. 

The two of them stood at opposite edges of the platform, gyrating and thrusting their hips, their stone-hard cocks cutting swaths in the air, stirring the hormones of the room. It was quite the scene.

“Do you like this?” Amy whispered in my ear. I felt both exhausted and over-stimulated, and Amy was exacerbating my condition by petting me and breathing in my ear. 

The women were transfixed on the stage, with all-too-eager smiles on their faces. 

“All those horny women:” Amy continued, “rile ‘em up a little, and they’ll turn into dick-loving fuck sluts too.”

What did she mean? Like us?

“Fuck sluts might be an overstatement.” I offered. “I think they’re just a little juiced. I know I am felling a little juiced.” I smiled at Amy and mockingly wiped my brow. “Whew!”

The song ended and the lights went down on the platform. The women applauded zealously. I wondered what the rest of the night held in store for me.



A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 14-15



This is the last two chapters of a fifteen-chapter novella. I posted the first 11 chapters individually, but Chapters 11 through 15 relate to one event and ought to be read in one sitting. In any event, the story is about co-ed housemates and is set in the summer of 1979.

*****

Chapter 14

It was about 1:00 in the morning, and I had a good, mellow buzz going. An old jazz tune came on, and I took it as a sign. I excused myself and told Charlie I’d be back a bit later.

I found them at the bar. When she saw me she touched her husband’s shoulder. He stood up.

“Hello, Annie.” He stuck out his hand. “My name is Alan.”

“Hello Alan.”

“I am glad you found us Annie. Come, follow me.” Victoria led the way. They both carried their drinks. I could tell they were tipsy by their walk. She stopped to talk briefly to a bouncer. She handed him a couple bills, and he motioned for us to follow him down the hallway. I was nervous again.

“Vicki worked here once. It was a long time ago.” Alan whispered this to me as we entered the room, but Victoria could hear him. 

“It was a different place then, just a strip joint,” Victoria replied. She looked at me and said, “Pasties, you know?” and tweaked her tits and laughed.

“That was twenty-five years ago,” Alan said laughing. 

“Ha ha ha,” chided Victoria. 

The room was the size of a small bedroom and almost antiseptically clean. There was a long couch against one wall, an over stuffed chair, a few bar stools that looked out of place, a full-length mirror on the back of the door, and a coat rack in the corner. The music was piped in through a speaker in the ceiling. 

Vicki started to unzip her dress. “Oh, you don’t have a drink, Annie. That won’t do. Another vodka?”

“No thank you.” I fidgeted. What was I getting myself into now? Relax, I said to myself. It is just a little dance. I had only agreed because I found Victoria so inexplicably fascinating.

“Nonsense.” She opened the door and called down to the bouncer. She asked for someone to bring another double vodka. She closed the door and let her cocktail dress drop to the floor. I thought of the movie The Graduate.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?” I said.

She laughed at my comment. “God that I looked as good as Anne Bancroft.” 

She looked better. Her breasts were buxom, with large, pale areolas and only a bit of sag to show for the years. She was wearing only her garter belt, stockings, and heels – no panties. There was a knock at the door. Victoria paid for my drink without covering herself and handed it to me.

“There you go, Annie.”

Alan was also undressing. I wondered what I should do. I decided to be patient. They certainly seemed like a harmless, rich, inebriated old couple. They hung their clothes on the coat rack. 

“I am taking this god-awful belt off.” She winked at me. “Damn thing has been pinching at me all night. I’ve gotten fat, dear. You watch yourself.” 

She wasn’t fat. We were the same height, and I would be surprised if she had ten pounds on me. She had faint traces of stretch marks on her sides, and the pooch of her tummy was more pronounced, but still in a sexy sort of way. Her hips were expansive, but smooth. Her bottom was full and soft and jiggly, but it was shapely. She looked fantastic to me. 

“I’m taking these damn shoes off, too.”

Alan took a seat on the couch and picked up his drink. His flesh had softened over the years, but I could see the remnants of a tanned, muscular young man. He looked silly in just his socks with a drink in his hand. He looked drunk, too, but he was attractive in a gentlemanly, almost regal sort of way.

“Do you guys have kids?” I felt like I had to know.

“Oh, good lord.” She put her hands on her hips and faced me in nothing but her stockings now. “Look at me. Of course we have kids.” 

Alan laughed loudly. “Honey, you’re a goddess!” She laughed. Alan continued. “We have three kids. I can’t remember their names.” They both laughed. “They’ve all moved away.”

Victoria sat next to Alan on the couch. They kissed. Victoria looked at me.

“What do you do, Annie?”

“I’m in college.”

Alan raised his glass to me. “Good thing, college. Good for you. I didn’t think many of you girls go to college.” He must be confusing me, I thought, with those other girls. “All of our kids went to college. Some are still there, I think.” Alan was enjoying himself. “Cost me a fortune. Nothing to show for it.”

“You’re a putz, Alan.” 

There was a brief pause. The song was “Let’s Groove Tonight” by Earth Wind and Fire. I closed my eyes and listened. I set down my drink and started to dance. 

I let my robe fall open. I ran my hands over the chiffon of my baby doll. I pressed up against the undersides of my breasts. 

It was good to be young and beautiful, I thought. I liked this couple. I wanted to dance for the both of them. Strangely, I was feeling like I had done this before. I felt naughty and cheap and slutty and sexy and young and gorgeous. I turned my back to them and let my robe drop to the floor. I kept my legs straight and bent at the waist to pick it up.

“Oh my!” I heard Alan exclaim.

Victoria took my robe, folded it for me, and set it aside. I decide to do away with the strip tease part. I didn’t know what I was doing, anyway, and I suspected they wanted to get to the naked part. I took off my baby doll and my panties. I stood before them naked in my white stockings. Alan applauded politely. Victoria was watching me. She crossed her legs. She looked in Alan’s lap. His penis was flaccid. She looked back at me. I danced.

I twisted and moved with the music. I caressed myself all over. I walked up to Alan and spread his legs, and standing right in front of him I massaged my pussy with both hands. I put one foot up on the couch, on Alan’s left side, away from Victoria. She reached over with her right hand and took hold Alan’s swelling penis. Good, I thought. I hoped it was working as she had planned. 

The music changed, another disco classic. “Shake Your Groove Thing.” I turned around between Alan’s legs and shook my bum in his face. He squeezed my cheeks. I turned around again and looked at where she was stroking him. He was erect. Brazenly, and feeling erotically charged, I took one of his hands pushed it between my legs. He strummed my pussy with his fingers. He pressed against my clit. Victoria let go of him and stood up. I froze. Was I doing something wrong?

“Go on dear, go on.” She walked around behind me. She slithered up against me. I could feel her breasts brush softly against my back. She put her mouth next to my ear. 

“You’re doing great,” she whispered, and the heat of her breath and the sexiness of her voice excited me. 

Alan kept diddling my clit. He knew what he was doing. I was wet and hot. Victoria fondled my breasts and stroked my tummy. She pressed against me firmly, pulling at my hips. 

She whispered next to my ear. “Isn’t she beautiful, Alan?”

“Another goddess, just like you.” 

I put my hand up to the side of her face and pushed our cheeks together. I turned my head to give her the opportunity if she wanted. She kissed my mouth. I turned to face her. I kicked of my heels. We embraced. We kissed passionately. I planted my hands into the fleshiness of her voluptuous bottom. She did the same to me. I could feel our pubic mounds pressing together.

“Oh, my this is interesting,” I heard Alan say. His hands joined hers on my bum. Victoria whispered to me again.

“Dance for him the way you danced for your friend.” She let me go.

I backed up and he guided me down to his lap with his hands on my hips. I felt his penis between my cheeks. I squeezed. He was too small for that to have the desired effect, I thought, and so I rocked and twisted in his lap, and I could feel his penis rolling around underneath me. I turned and straddled him, knees by his hips. He kissed my breasts. His hands felt strong and demanding against the softness of my ass. I squatted down on him so that his dickhead pressed against my pubic mound. I looked in his eyes.

“Oh god Vicki,” he said, closing his eyes. 

I swayed and bounced in his lap, tickling his penis. He fondled my ass and breasts, running his hands gently all over my thighs, my hips, my back, my arms, my sides. 

“Oh god Vicki,” he said again. “You feel so good.” I let the tip of his penis trace my vagina. “I want you so badly, Vicki. I want you now.” He kept his eyes closed.

Vicki touched my shoulder. She motioned me away from Alan with her eyes. I stood up. She took my place. 

“I’m here, baby.” She straddled him. She teased him. I watched. She guided his penis into her. 

“Like that, baby? Is that good?” 

She started slowly. They kissed. His hands wandered over her body like they had mine. 

They fucked right there in front of me, and I watched them, and as strange as it was I couldn’t help but think how romantic it was. 

Alan was right. She was most definitely still a goddess. I hoped I was as beautiful and sexy as she was when I was her age. She picked up her pace. Alan started to groan. Now she was bucking on him. Alan was a lucky man. I now felt uninvited. I put on my robe and gathered my things. I left them alone, carefully opening and closing the door. 

“They’ll be a few more minutes,” I said as I winked at the bouncer and walked back into the party.

I went to the ladies lounge and put my panties and baby doll in our locker. It was late, I thought, and I decided I would get by with just my robe for the rest of the night. No more dancing. 

Amy came in while I was freshening up. She had taken off her body stocking and was wearing her snap off shorts and a flimsy, black camisole. With her bare legs in those boots and the tight shorts showing off her firm ass, she was definitely hot. I thought she looked better than she had in her stocking. We walked back to our table together.

Mike and Charlie were there. I ordered a soda. We talked about the scene.

Victoria came by a few moments later. She asked me to follow her to the ladies lounge. I walked behind her, and I caught myself paying attention to her gait. I wanted to be able to imitate it. 

She stopped in front of a full-length locker and slipped out of her dress. She kicked off her heels. She opened her locker and set her things inside. She was naked except for her stockings. I was gazing with delight at her mature flesh. 

“Thank you. You were wonderful,” she said as she fumbled for something in her locker. She handed me a one hundred-dollar bill. I clenched it in my hand. “Alan and I appreciate it.” She sat down and began to roll down her stockings.

“It was nothing.” I turned to leave.

“Wait, dear.” She motioned me back to her. She hung up her stockings. “I want to ask you something. Just a second. Are you in need of a shower?”

I wondered what she wanted. I actually could have used a shower. “I suppose I do, now that you mention it.”

“Good, meet me in the shower and we can talk.”

I nodded. I went to my locker and took off my robe, stockings, pearls and heels. I slipped the hundred into my jeans pocket in the bag. 

She had a full layer of lather on her torso when I joined her. I took the showerhead next to hers. We were both careful not to wet our hair. 

I couldn’t help but to compare our bodies. There was a striking potential for resemblance. Her skin was slightly weathered and damaged here and there from the sun, and it wasn’t as tight as mine, but not distractingly so. As she rinsed off, she spoke.

“Is Charlie your boyfriend?”

“Not really.”

“So, in a way he is your boyfriend?”

“We are good fiends.”

“This may seem silly. I’m not sure how best to say this, so I will just say it. Do you think I could dance for him?” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “All right, what I really mean is, do you think you could persuade him to ask me to dance for him?” 

She stood very still and looked at me with what I thought was a hint of sorrow in her eyes. 

“That seems like it would be up to Charlie.”

“But do you think he would, if you asked him? I want to dance for both of you, together. I want him to ask me to do that, to ask me with you, in front of Alan, and then for us to leave him. I would give you another hundred, and a twenty for Charlie to give to me, plus I will pay for the room, of course.”

We were standing naked within a foot of each other. I felt a strange affinity for Victoria at that moment. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to have her little fantasy. 

“I think he might be persuaded.”

“Oh thank you, Annie. I am so glad we met.” She put her hand to my cheek and traced her thumb under my eye. She was looking intently at my face. 

“You are so beautiful, Annie. Look at you. I so much want to be you, dear. I want to feel the way I know you feel tonight. Thank you, even if it is just for a moment.”

I smiled at her. I was staring into her eyes. She had small crow’s feet, but her eyes were otherwise very much like mine. I thought she looked stunning. She pulled my head toward hers with the slightest movement of her fingers. I didn’t resist. I stepped towards her. We embraced and kissed, like we had in front of Alan, but this was different. It wasn’t a show. She held my head in her hands as she kissed me. I pulled her against me from the small of her back. 

She whispered into my mouth, “Wait about a half an hour. If he is willing, come by our table. It will be less crowded then. I’ll be looking for you.”

“Can I ask you something, Victoria?”

“Call me Vicki, dear. Were friends now.”

“How old are you?”

“I shouldn’t say.”

“I feel like I need to know.”

“I’m forty-six.”

“You look great, Vicki.”

“In my heart, I am still young, Annie. When I look in the mirror, it’s someone like you I expect to see, but then I see me and I can’t believe my eyes. It is hard, this getting-old thing.”

We kissed again, less passionately but somehow more intimately. 

As we were drying off at our lockers, she gave me another one hundred-dollar bill and two twenties. She was taking her time applying her makeup when I left.

A slender woman was standing beside our table when I returned. She was striking. Her hair was long and thick and wavy, the color of dark mahogany with subtle amber highlights. She had apparently stopped to say hello to Amy. 

Her voice was raspy and very quiet. I noticed how carefully and expertly she had applied her makeup. She brushed her hair out of her face with slender fingers. Her nails were the color of blood, deep and shiny. Her pert breasts strained against a red satin bra trimmed in black lace. Her panties matched her bra. She wasn’t wearing any stockings. Her legs were long and thin and her skin was so smooth it appeared to shine in the colored lights. 

I sat down just as she said good-bye to Amy. Her hips were svelte, and she swayed them elegantly as she walked. Charlie leaned out from the table to watch her walk away.

“Who was that?” Mike asked looking bewitched. Amy laughed.

“She is gorgeous, isn’t she?” Amy said through her giggling.

“What’s so funny?’ I was curious.

“Nothing, nothing.” Amy composed herself. “Her name is Vanessa. She’s a lot of fun.” Amy looked around. “Where’s Tom?”

“He’s at the far platform, over there.” Mike pointed him out.

Amy leaned over the table as if she was going to share a secret with us. “Vanessa is a regular. She has, well, how should I put this? She has a special talent.” Amy looked around the room again. “Here, I’ll show you. Let’s have some fun.” 

Amy got up and went over to where Vanessa was standing. I watched Amy hand Vanessa a couple bills. Amy pointed out Tom for her. They chatted for a few moments, and then they hugged. Vanessa started for Tom. Amy hurried back to our table.

“Come on, let’s watch.” Amy was beaming.

“What’s her special talent, Amy?” I asked as I watched Vanessa tap Tom on the shoulder.

“You’ll see. She’s good.”

Vanessa led Tom to a couch in the center of a less crowded area. We followed. Amy took a place behind where Tom was seated, near a table where we could set our drinks. I could tell others were positioning themselves so that they could see Vanessa. The Cars were playing. “Life’s a dream, I’m moving in stereo….” 

She was slinky and sinewy in the way she moved. I thought of a harem girl, gyrating her hips methodically. She was hypnotizing. She let Tom undo the front clasp of her bra, and it fell away. Her breasts were perfectly molded, like sculpted museum pieces. I wondered whether they were real, and decide they were too beautiful to be fake. Amy leaned against me.

“Best boob-job you’ll ever see.”

“You’re kidding?” I was truly surprised. 

“Beverly Hills doctor. Cost her a fortune.”

Her breasts were full and nicely rounded below the nipple, and her nipples angled slightly upward. I always thought a boob job resulted in balloon-like tits, but hers weren’t big. They were womanly soft and delicately shaped. I was impressed. Her dancing was enchanting.

She stood between Tom’s legs. She turned away from him. Tom pulled at her panties, and she slapped at his hand playfully. As she slowly rolled down her panties, Tom leaned forward, putting his face close to her bum cheeks. She was nicely tanned, with no tan lines. Her skin was radiant. I could tell Tom was struggling to restrain himself. 

When her panties reached the lower portion of her bottom, Tom placed his hands on her hips and kissed her cheeks. She squirmed about, and looked over her shoulder at him smiling and then laughing as he nuzzled up to her bum. She let him press his face into her bottom. Then she turned around and backed ever so slightly away from him, just out of his reach. 

She held on to the crotch of her panties with both hands, her legs held tightly together. Slowly she pushed then down. She revealed the crest of her pubic hair, and it was neatly cropped and dark and nappy. She stopped. There was a charge in the small crowd that had gathered behind Tom. I saw one of the professional girls looking on, excitedly telling the man with her to watch.

Vanessa bent towards Tom and tore away her panties. Then she spread her feet and legs and stood up straight. 

I couldn’t register what my eyes were seeing at first. A penis seemed to spring forth from between her legs. There was a gasp from the onlookers, and then calls of encouragement. 

Her surprising genitalia transfixed me. It WAS a penis. It was a very real, very normal looking penis. It was ever so slightly engorged. The skin was smooth and dramatically white against her otherwise olive, whole-body tan. I had no idea what to think. Some of the onlookers were laughing. People walking by stopped to stare. I couldn’t see Tom’s face. He was sitting absolutely still. Vanessa swayed at the hips and waggled her penis. She had an enormous smile on her face.

“She’s spectacular, isn’t she?” Amy was beside herself. She had to put her hand on my shoulder to steady herself as she laughed. I didn’t know what to do or say. 

“Does she have balls?” Despite the evidence, I was turning skeptical. Amy had tears in her eyes now.

“Oh god, Annie. She’s had a little plastic surgery down there. I don’t know what you’d call it. A snip and tuck? But yes, she definitely has balls.”

“I can’t believe it.” 

Charlie and Mike were talking excitedly. Charlie turned to Amy and me.

“Oh Amy, now that is a funny. Oh, Tom was kissing his ass. Oh god…”

“Her ass,” Amy scolded Charlie, but he ignored her

. 

I kept watching. Vanessa sat down in Tom’s lap and put an arm around his shoulders. She whispered something in his ear. She kissed him on the forehead and stood back up. She tucked her cock between her legs and straightened up. She looked so much like a woman. Her hips were narrow, but they spread out from her even narrower waist.




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 14-15



“How does he, excuse me, she get her waist so thin?” I wondered aloud.

There was nothing “guy-like” about her body – nothing except for her cock. She let her unit spring forward again. It was more engorged. She took hold of it and squeezed it, and it grew. She reached down and took Tom’s hand with her free hand. She tried to get him to touch her penis. He hesitated, and then he took it in his hand.

“Good boy, Tom,” Amy whispered to herself proudly.

Vanessa put her hand behind her head and swayed as Tom fondled her cock. Tom took his hand away. She turned around and backed into him, and again Tom was kissing and petting her cheeks.

Vanessa turned and offered her hand to Tom. He took it and stood up, but resisted going with her. She looked at him pleadingly, and then she smiled. She stepped close to him and I could tell she was purring like a cat in his ear. 

Mike and Charlie were merciless. Tom must have heard us. He looked over his shoulder at us. I expected to see a confused and hurt look on his face. Instead he smiled, as if to say, “What the hell.” He followed where she led. There was a smattering of applause from well-wishers.

I was reminded of my dream, the one where I had a penis. I was reminded of my time with Amy’s strap-on. I was stimulated to the point of distraction. I wanted to know what it would be like to touch her penis. She was so beautiful, so sexy. Her genital are was so immaculate. There was a part of me that envied Tom.

“I knew he’d go with her.” Amy seemed pleased with herself.

“What is she?” I was still a bit out of sorts. We started back to our table.

“You mean… she’s not pre-operative or anything. If you ask her, she will tell you that she is very fond of her dick. She is what she is.”

“A fucking freak,” said Mike.

“That’s nice, Mike. Maybe she thinks you’re a fucking freak, too.” Amy was pissed.

“Come on, guys,” Charlie said quietly. “Shut up, Mike.”

“That freak makes more money than you may ever see, Mike.” Amy regained her good spirits. 

“I don’t get it,” said Mike.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed,” said Charlie.

“I think she’s sexy,” I said, hoping to end the discussion. We sat down at our table.

“I’m worried about Tom.” Mike said this very earnestly. There was a pause, and then the rest of us howled with laughter. 

“I’d worry about yourself, Mike,” Amy offered as politely as she could.

Charlie said, “I am not worried about Tom in the slightest.”

Charlie and I started to talk quietly to each other. Amy left the table, apparently no longer wishing to talk to Mike. Mike got up and followed her, apologizing. After a calculated interval, I asked Charlie what he thought of Vicki.

“She was hot, for an older babe.”

“Yeah, you said that, but would you ever… I don’t know, fantasize about a woman like that?”

“Yeah, sure. She looked good, but she must be like forty years old. I mean, I would have a hard time fantasizing about her in a place like this.”

“What if I paid for her to dance for you? Would you like that?”

Charlie nodded towards a large breasted, very young blond woman who ambled by in nothing more than her underwear. “How about you pay for her to dance with me?”

“I don’t want to pay for HER to dance with you. I want to see Vicki dance for you. Come on, Charlie, it’ll be fun.” I thought about telling him about the hundred dollars, and then I thought I didn’t need to – not yet anyway.

“You know, she kind of looks like you.” He smiled at me. “Only older, I mean.”

“It’s okay. That’s what I want. I want you to think of her as me in twenty years…” or twenty-five to be exact, I thought to myself, “and I want to know if you would find me attractive and sexy.”

“She won’t dance for us.”

“Want to bet?” I was coy.

“Ten bucks, the cost of the dance.”

“Make it twenty. I’ll bet she’ll even dance for us in a private room.”

“That’d be like fifty bucks with the room: too much.”

“I’ll get the room, you get the dance if she comes with us. I’ll give you twenty if she doesn’t.”

“Okay, you’re on.”

Charlie asked me to set it up. I told him no, he had to ask her for himself. As far as I was concerned, it had to be his idea. I told him to be gracious and flattering. I pointed out where Vicki and Alan were sitting. Charlie led the way. 

I stayed behind Charlie as he approached their table. He stopped in front of Vicki and cleared his throat.

“Um, excuse me, ma’am…”

I kicked him in the shin. 

“Err, excuse me, Victoria. I was very glad to meet you earlier, and I just wanted you to know that I think you are an enormously attractive and sexy woman.”

Enormously!? Good lord, what an idiot, I thought. 

“Please, join us.” Alan partially stood up and motioned to the place across from Vicki at the table. Charlie started to waive his hand to say no, but Vicki scooted over to make enough room for both of us and patted the place next to her.

“Sit down, you two,” She said. 

I pushed Charlie down and I sat on the end. 

“Now what did you want to say, sweetheart.” 

“Let us order you kids round of drinks, eh?” Alan offered loudly over the music. 

“No, really, thank you sir,” Charlie replied. I kicked Charlie under the table again. “You are a very lucky man, to have such a beautiful and…” Charlie paused as he looked into Vicki’s eyes, “alluring woman as a companion.” 

Better, I thought.

“Lucky is the operative word, son.” Alan was again too loud. He was obviously even drunker than before.

“I would like to ask if Victoria…” 

I kicked him yet again. “Ask her, you idiot,” I said under my breath.

“…I would like to ask you, Victoria, to dance for us, for Annie and me.”

Alan looked dumbfounded.

“A private dance,” Charlie added, looking humbly at Alan.

“I would like that, Charlie. Yes, I would. I would be happy to dance for you. Is that alright with you, Alan?”

Alan looked at a loss for words. 

“Good!” Vicki said gaily. “Shall we go?”

I got up with Charlie. I led the way as Charlie and Vicki followed me. I looked back and saw Vicki take his hand. I decided to spring for the bigger room. I gave the bouncer in the hallway fifty dollars and told him I wanted the room with the bed and the couch and the mirrors. Vicki looked at me appreciatively. I wanted to watch her dance for Charlie. I was so anxious I shivered.

*********

Chapter 15

The bed was freshly made. The mirrors sparkled. I turned the lights down at the dimmer switch. I walked up behind Charlie and whispered in his ear.

“Get undressed.”

He looked at me as if he were confused. I nodded it was all right. Charlie took off his clothes and hung them behind the door. Vicki straightened her dress in the mirror. I motioned for Charlie to sit on the big couch. Vicki watched him in the mirror as he walked by.

A slow song came over the speaker system. “Lady Blue” by Leon Russell. I thought it was perfect.

I sat down on the edge of the bed to watch.

She stood with her back to Charlie. She closed her eyes and swayed with her hands on her hips. I could see her back in the mirror behind Charlie. Her dress plunged down to the small of her back. She lifted he hands up her sides, and her dress rode up, revealing the lacy bands at the top of her black, silk stockings. She pushed her legs tightly together and arched her back and bent at the waist, showing Charlie the little creases where her bum cheeks overlapped her legs. She let the dress regain its normal fit and turned to face Charlie. 

Now she spread her legs out. Her dress inched up. Again she rubbed her hips in such a fashion that her dress hiked up, and Charlie could see wisps of her pubic hair. She walked towards Charlie, and her dress fell back in place. She put her hands on Charlie’s knees. Charlie stared down her cleavage. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

She sat on his legs. The straps of her cocktail dress had fallen over her shoulders. She shook out her hair, and it relaxed and fell about her neck. She seemed to be working on something in Charlie’s lap, and I knew it was his cock. 

Charlie took the liberty to place his hands on her breasts. Then he pulled down on the straps and the front of he dress fell and her breasts spilled out for him. 

“Your so big and hard, Charlie,” Vicki said throatily. “Do you like my big breasts Charlie?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me you like my breasts, Charlie.”

He squeezed and kneaded her breasts. “Your breasts are beautiful.”

“I’m all hot for you, Charlie. Your dick is beautiful.” 

She put her arms back through the straps of her dress and stood up. She stepped between his legs. I could see Charlie’s penis now, and it was huge and swollen and red, sticking straight up from his lap. She kicked off a shoe and put her foot on the couch between Charlie’s legs. Her toes slid under his crotch. The skirt part of her dress was caught on her legs in such a fashion that I am sure Charlie could see her pussy.

“Help me take off my stockings Charlie.” 

She hiked her dress up higher on her thighs. Charlie began to studiously unhooking the clasps for the garter straps. He started to pull down on her stocking. She showed him how to roll the stocking down, and he rolled it slowly all the way down to her ankle, rubbing her thighs and calves with the flats of his hands as he did. She pulled her foot out of his crotch and the stocking came off in Charlie’s hands. 

She switched legs, and Charlie did it again. This time, as he was unhooking her clasps, she took one of his hands and pressed it under her dress, against her flesh. I could barely hear her, but she whispered, “Do you feel how hot I am, Charlie?”

Charlie’s face was red and looked a bit hot, too. He went slower this time, clasping her meaty thigh with the palms of his hands and pulling down, rolling the stocking along till it fell off her foot. She turned around and backed up to Charlie, holding her hands provocatively behind her head.

“Unzip me.”

I was sitting on my heels on the bed now. I was totally caught up in the scene before me. I caught Vicki’s eye and she smiled and winked. Charlie unzipped her dress from the small of her back to the middle of her bottom. She dropped her arms, and the dress slipped to the floor. 

“The garter belt, Charlie?” 

It was all that was left. She put her hands to the back of her head. Charlie unfastened the belt and tossed it to the end off the couch. She was naked now. She backed even closer to him and with her legs straight she bent over to pick up her dress. Charlie squeezed her bum cheeks one at a time. She stood in front of him folding her dress carefully, taking her time, and then she tossed the dress aside casually. I giggled. She smiled at me.

If the lights had been bright, and my focus perfectly clear, I might have thought that her flesh was a little loose and worn. Instead, with warm lights and a soft focus, she cut the figure of an ample breasted, curvaceous, young maiden. Naked and barefoot, she looked like a woman with milky skin preparing for a bath. My loins started to ache with desire. Not with desire for her, but for the idea of her standing there with a vital young stud fixated and vulnerable in the web of her sexuality. 

The song changed: Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” It made me want to dance. Charlie clung to Vicki’s hips. His dick was long and twitching about, and I assumed he ached for her, or the idea of her, too. 

She turned to face him and took his hands and pulled him up from the couch. She pulled his arms around her, and then she put her arms under his and pulled him against her. 

They kissed, and the strangest emotion came over me. I was jealous, but I couldn’t tell of whom. They squeezed each other tightly and swayed to the music. With his hands sunk firmly into her soft bottom, they moved in a circle, and Vicki intentional rubbing against Charlie, all that flesh on flesh, the friction and heat between them. Then she shuffled him over to the couch and pushed him back till he was sitting again. She kneeled on the carpeting in front of him.

“I want to suck your cock, Charlie. Do you want me to suck your cock?” she asked.

I hadn’t expected this.

“Hmmmm, baby, is that what you want?”

She was stroking his rock hard shaft with both hands, breathing the words against its head like it was a microphone. Charlie looked lost. He groaned as she licked him, and then he looked at me as she went down on him. My eyes must have been wide, but I mouthed, “It’s okay,” to him.

She sat on her heels and nodded away on Charlie. His head fell back against the couch. I had to adjust my seat. I couldn’t believe my eyes. 

She was able to plunge her lips all the way to the base of his penis, and when she pulled her head up she did so very slowly and she pulled on his penis and it seemed to stretch like taffy. It was remarkable in that Charlie’s dick looked an inch or two longer than it already was as her lips came up to the head of his penis. Then she plunged her head down again, taking all of him in her mouth. It didn’t seem possible. Again and again, up slowly, pulling, stretching, and then down hard. 

Charlie was writhing under her. I couldn’t imagine being so rough on a penis, any man’s penis, let alone Charlie’s biggun. Charlie made sounds I had never heard before, half pain, half ecstasy, otherworldly. It was if she was sucking the life out of him. I felt like I should come to his rescue. 

My curiosity got the best of me. I had to see her technique. I got up off the bed and sat down on the end of the couch. Vicki came up off of Charlie and smiled at me. It seemed she was reading my mind. She went back to work on Charlie slowly and instructionally. I watched intently. 

I realized that my earlier breakthrough (my “cocksucking epiphany” as I had thought of it) was a sham. What Vicki was doing made my efforts seem like a tease. Like I have told you before, I was never a big fan of giving head, but watching Vicki seemingly eviscerate Charlie through his quivering erection fascinated me. 

Charlie’s penis would submerge into her mouth quickly. When she came up, she seemed to take the skin with her. Charlie’s pubic hair would rise up his shaft with the tug on his skin, and then descend in a kind of optical illusion as Vicki’s head was still coming up. As she kept repeating this procedure, Charlie carried on like a madman strapped to a gurney. He clenched and unclenched his fists. The veins in his neck stood up. Gurgles and grunts escaped his lips uncontrollably. Occasionally he would slap the seat cushion or the back of the couch. I half expected him to yell uncle. 

“Charlie should have to pay a lot more than forty bucks for this,” I couldn’t help but speak my mind.

“Forty?” Charlie looked at me incredulously, but only for an instant, and then he succumbed to his pleasure. 

Vicki came up for air. “Come here and watch.” She pushed Charlie’s legs farther apart, shifted her weight to the side, and patted the floor next to her. “This is just stage one.”

Stage one? I wanted to be closer to her. I stood up.

“Take off your robe. We’re all friends now, remember?” Vicki said as she smiled at me as she gave Charlie’s penis a few friendly tugs. 

I took off my robe. I was naked and barefoot, like her, like Charlie. I joined her between Charlie’s legs. 

She whispered to me, “I bet you don’t like giving head.”

“Not really,” I responded. She winked at me.

“I didn’t, either, but then you fall in love, and things change. It’s a good thing to know how to do well. Trust me. And this! This is a handsome specimen, dear. You need to keep it happy.” We laughed. “Watch.”

I watched. She proceeded as before. Charlie squirmed. Then she took the base of Charlie’s shaft in her hand. With her lips over the center of the penis, she appeared to suck in, creating a vacuum. As she brought her head up and down, his skin moved over the shaft. She did the same with her hand, but alternated, moving her hand in the same direction as her lips, and then in the opposite direction. Her pace quickened. Charlie was gripping the seat cushion, and his knuckles were white. I could tell Charlie was just about to come from experience, and just as I was about to say something, she released him. 

“The real trick,” she said to me quietly, and as I leaned forward I realized that we were essentially huddled around Charlie’s cock like we were inspecting a fascinating piece of jewelry, “is to roll and squeeze with your tongue as you go. It’s like a hand job and a blow job all in one.”

Charlie made a sound like he needed medical attention. Vicki rolled her eyes and we giggled. 

She put her lips next to my ear. “When you’re my age, dear, you need to know how to keep a man happy.” Her comment obviously amused her.

I tried to memorize her features. I wanted to remember her. I wanted to know what she knew. As I stared at her, she kissed me. Her mouth was wet and hot. She withdrew, and her smile was contagious. I looked away at Charlie’s cock. It was glistening wet and enticingly thick. 

“Go on, give it a try.”

I tried to go all the way down on Charlie, but I felt like I was going to choke.

“Don’t be so gentle with it, Annie. It’ll give.”

I tried again, more aggressively, and she was right. When I came up, I pulled Charlie’s skin into my mouth. I think I had it. I tried the hand-job/blowjob technique, and while I can’t say I mastered it, I got the hang of that too. 

“Let’s do this right, give him the full treatment,” Vicki whispered to me. She told me to get on the couch next to Charlie. I crawled up on the couch and sat on my heels and bent forward so I could take Charlie’s cock in my mouth. 

Vicki stayed between his legs and took his balls in her mouth and lolled them around. I watched her as I worked on Charlie’s shaft with my newfound prowess. She tugged at his sack, pulling it away from him. She licked and suckled him. And then she started to hum and moan, and I could feel the vibrations resonate up Charlie’s penis and into my mouth. Our faces were close, and with all the slurping and moans of pleasure, I thought of us working a big banana split from different ends – she got the cherries and I got the banana. 

Vicki disengaged. “Try making some noise, sweetie,” she whispered to me. “It will drive him crazy. Follow my lead. And Charlie, scoot down just I bit, honey.”

Charlie adjusted himself and I came up for a little air. I watched Vicki moisten her fingers and slip them between Charlie’s pinched up bum cheeks and I assumed she was aiming to massage Charlie’s bumhole while we worked. This really was the full treatment, I thought. 

I took his cock back in my mouth; Vick went back to suckling his balls. Vicki’s hums and moans turned to more guttural groans and after a while I was thinking she sounded like a frenzied porn queen (though “Deep Throat” is the only porn movie I have ever seen – a field assignment for a psychology class, if you would believe – so consider the source.)

I got to humming and figured out that I could get the most vibration by making a sound like cow moaning. It was like Charlie was enjoying an inverted vibrator, with the added advantage that my mouth was wet and slippery, and it sported a tongue.

Charlie was tensing all his muscles, and his face was so clenched up I thought is might disappear. He started making noises, gurgling and sputtering at first, and then he started groaning along with us. We sounded like a heard of agitated cows.

I was working him faster now. Charlie’s cock was drenched, and it slipped in and out of my mouth with no resistance. Charlie was alternating between petting my back and bum with his hand, and slapping it on the couch like he was in pain. I heard Vicki’s voice.

“Tell me when you think he is close.” 

I was actually starting to work up a sweat on my brow, and I was hopping he was getting close. Then a felt the telltale twitter in his loins. I sat up.




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 14-15



“He’s close,” I said.

Vicki released Charlie’s balls and worked her mouth until she was able to drizzle her hand with spittle. Then she grabbed Charlie’s cock and stroked him with incredible speed. I could now see that with her other hand she working his bumhole vigorously. Charlie was now straight as a board with his head tilted all the way back. I watched, and I was turned on, and I moistened.

“C’mon, honey,” Vicki cooed, “come for mama, baby.” My eyes went wide. “That’s it,” she continued, “that’s a good boy, come as hard as you can, baby. Come for mama now.” She was stroking him furiously, twisting her wrist with each beat. My eyes went wider. My pussy ached.

And then a sound came out of Charlie like he had swallowed a gaggle of honking geese. I didn’t think my eyes could get wider after the incestuous imagery, but they did. Charlie’s hips jerked, and a rope of cum shot up in the air with such force I thought it was headed for the ceiling. And then another eruption burst forth before the first had started its descent. By the time Charlie was through, it looked like a madman with a squirt gun full of hand lotion had attacked him. 

I was hot. Vicki and I looked at each other. I wondered what now? Vicki took my hand and we stood up. And then I attack-kissed her. I was anxious with desire. I pulled Vicki into me aggressively – an abundance of soft, hot naked flesh, my youthful flesh, her womanly flesh, seemingly fused in our embrace. I was kissing her so strongly and passionately I was lightheaded. 

Charlie was irrelevant. Vicki maneuvered us to the bed and we fell on it. We pawed at each other. I couldn’t wait to get my hand between her legs.

We lay side by side, each with a hand buried in the other’s crouch, groping wildly. We kept kissing.

“Why am I so hot?” I panted into her mouth.

“Me too,” she replied.

She rolled on top of me and buried her face in my breasts. I lost contact with her fleecy-soft pussy. She sent two fingers into me and explored my heat and wetness. She nuzzled and kissed my breasts. I felt it again; she was working her fingers into the front of my vaginal wall, like Amy had, my G-spot (how glorious!). Within moments I was coming.

Then she ascended and kissed me, and I rolled on top of her and returned the favor.

We had been lying side by side for a spell, petting and caressing and kissing and cuddling, when I finally wondered about Charlie. I leaned up and looked. He was sitting on the couch, apparently all cleaned up, watching us. I smiled and lay back down. I supposed it was time to leave. I was wrong.

“Do you want Charlie to make love to us,” Vicki said. 

“Us? How?” I whispered quizzically.

“I’ll show you,” Vicki replied.

“He may not be…”

“He’s twenty, dear; he’s fine.”

I looked again at Charlie. He was gently petting a near-full erection in his lap.

“Here,” Vicki offered, and she pulled me on top of her again. I was straddling her hips, and she pressed the tops of her thighs against the backs of mine and spread her legs out, which spread mine. We kissed. She kneaded my bum, and then adjusted herself so that she could get the tips of her fingers on my labia. And then she spread them, exposing my pinkness. 

“Charlie dear,” Vicki called out, “would you be so kind.

Our breast were warm fluffy pillows between us. We kissed. Charlie crawled on the bed and situated himself between our legs. From the corner of my eye I could see that he was steadying himself with his hands on Vicki’s wide-spread knees. 

Vicki spread me wider. I closed my eyes. Charlie entered me. When he began to buck, he was coming up into me, like he was bouncing up off his heels as opposed to moving in and out from directly behind me. His cockhead would push against the back of my vaginal wall, at the opening of my vagina, and then run against it until he was fully in me, pressed against my cervix. It was a new and astounding sensation.

“Does that feel good, Annie?” Vicki asked breathily. I put my face next hers and braced myself. She breathed into my ear. “Do you like that Charlie is fucking us?” 

Vicki is a talker, I thought.

And yes, I liked that Charlie was fucking us.

Charlie thrust harder with each stroke, and with each bump up into me he lifted my hips up. Again and again he bumped into me, and I could feel the swelling inside, the heat building, the focus of my consciousness narrowing.

“Are you going to come, Annie,” Vicki said kissing my earlobe.

“Uh huh,” I grunted.

“Let me hear you come.”

“Oh god!” I exclaimed. 

Now she held me tightly, immobile, and Charlie fucked me – us! 

“I’m gonna come,” I said too loudly.

“That’s it, sweetie, let it all go. Come with me,” Vicki moaned and then she started to coo and moan like she was coming. I did as she suggested. I let go. And I came, and I screamed out girlishly, and I truly felt like Vicki was coming with me. 

“Good girl,” Vicki said. I was glad she hadn’t conjured the incestuous imagery again. We were just two women of the world, enjoying a healthy, good ol’ fucking.

And then I could tell Charlie was going to come, and I didn’t want him to.

“No, wait Charlie. I want you to fuck Vicki.” I was momentarily disoriented hearing that come out of my mouth. It was true, however.

I crawled off of Vicki and I rolled on to my side against her and stroked her breasts. We kissed. Her skin smelled faintly of rainwater. As we kissed, a strange sensation came over me. I realized at that moment how much older than me she was. We had been drawn to each other because we thought we looked alike, but we were nothing alike. I couldn’t possibly have known what she knew. I tried to see the evening through her eyes. It both excited me and depressed me. I couldn’t figure out why.

“Are you sure?” Vicki whispered to me.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes, very much, but I want to be you when he does it.

I don’t care, I thought. I nodded at Charlie, letting him know I wanted him to do it. I wanted Charlie to fuck her. I wanted him to fuck us both simultaneously, if he could. All right, I don’t know what I wanted; I suppose I just wanted the fucking to continue. And I wanted Vicki to be happy.

He held himself above her with his arms straight out, his hands outside her shoulders. She pulled her knees up. Charlie pressed into her. I rested on my side and watched. Vicki pulled Charlie down against her. She wrapped his waist with her legs, very much like I would have done, I thought. 

“Do you want me, Charlie?” she said in a raspy voice.

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Charlie was easing into her. 

“I want you, Vic…”

“Shh, Charlie. It’s Annie, Charlie. Go ahead, it’s okay”

I thought Charlie would be confused. He didn’t miss a beat.

“I want you, Annie.”

“Do you want to fuck me, Charlie?”

“Yes.”

“Then fuck me, Charlie. Fuck me hard. And call out my name, Charlie.”

“Oh, Annie.”

“You feel so good, Charlie. You feel so big and hot.” Charlie was bucking into her, and she continued to pull him into her. She kept talking in a low, raspy voice. “You are so beautiful, Charlie. You are every woman’s dream. Oh, I feel you so deep and hot inside of me. Do I feel good, Charlie?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“You feel so hot.”

“Use my name.”

“You fell so hot, Annie.”

“Am I sexy Charlie?”

“You are sexy, Annie. I want you so badly.”

“That’s good. That’s good, Charlie.”

Vicki writhed and twisted under Charlie. She set down her legs and grabbed his ass in both hands. 

Vicki shot her head back. “Oh Charlie. Oh, oh…” She shuddered – a vaginal orgasm. Just like that – easy as could be. I was jealous. 

Charlie sat up and grabbed her by the thighs and fucked her hard, pulling her into him and pushing her away with each thrust. Vicki’s breasts shook with the thrusting. The bed rocked with the force of their fucking. I was happy for Vicki. For whatever reason, I wanted her to know it was Vicki now, not me, who was being fucked.

“Do you like Vicki, Charlie?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you think Vicki is sexy?”

“God yes!”

“Do you want Vicki, Charlie?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell her.”

Charlie leaned over her. “I want you Vicki.”

Vicki eyes closed tensely. I motioned for Charlie to get back on top of her, chest to chest, close in, the way I like it.

“Wrap your legs around him like before,” I said, and she did. “Wrap your arms around him,” and she did. “Is that the way you like it?” She looked at me pleadingly and nodded her head. “Do you want more, Vicki?” She nodded her head yes again. Charlie kept rocking his hips, strong eager thrusting, faster and faster, and I could feel the friction building inside of her, between them, between us. 

“Feel him, Vicki. This is what you like.” My voice was oddly stern. “This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?”

“God yes,” she screamed out.

I leaned even closer to her and I whispered, “You are gorgeous, Vicki. You are the most beautiful woman here tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said, and she smiled at me. And I could see she was headed for another orgasm.

I winked at Charlie. 

And then I got up, gathered my stuff, and left.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked. It took him a while to find me. He sat next to me in a booth. 

“Yes, absolutely,” I replied softly.

“What was that about?”

“What?”

“C’mon.”

“I don’t know, Charlie. I can’t say.”

“That was weird.”

“Did you like making love to Vicki?”

“Yes.”

“Does she remind you of me?”

“No.”

“Good.” That was the right answer, I thought.

“She tastes like smoke and chewing gum; you don’t.”

I laughed. Quit while you’re ahead, I wanted to say to Charlie. 

“Your not mad at me, are you?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know. Were you mad at Vicki?”

He had sensed it. I had been angry with her. “Yes, for a moment.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“You know, I’m not the smartest guy in the world, but you could at least talk to me. Why were you mad at Vicki?”

I paused and thought of what to say. I wanted to explain it to myself. 

“I was mad at her because she didn’t want to be who she was. Did you think she was beautiful and sexy?”

“Yes.”

“What if she were ten years older still.”

“She’d probably still be beautiful.”

“But would you find her sexy?”

“I don’t know, probably not.”

I looked down at the ground. I didn’t feel well all of a sudden. “Maybe I was mad at her because she wanted something I have, when all I have is youth and sex, and I know she has so much more than that.”

“Okay, I’m not following you now. I’ll tell you what I think. I think she’s scared of getting old, and I think you’re being a little too damn judgmental. She ought to be scared of getting old. She just wanted to be young for a few moments.”

He was right. “I’m over-thinking this, aren’t I?”

“Sheesh. Women?”

“So did YOU have fun?” I asked coyly. 

“Yeah, sure,” Charlie said, nonchalantly, and then he sighed and laughed and said, “I might not ever be the same.”

I was over-thinking. The music was quiet for a moment. A song started. It sounded familiar. Charlie started laughing. It was Sammy Davis Jr.’s “Candy Man.” I laughed. Charlie pointed to a corner of the room. It was Tom with Vanessa was sitting on his lap. They were sipping drinks and kissing. 

“Weird, weird stuff going on in here tonight,” Charlie whispered in my ear. 

Charlie and I talked for a while. Again I was thinking it was time to go home. I was finally getting tired, I thought. 

I spotted Vicki coming out of the ladies’ lounge, which reminded me.

“You owe Vicki forty bucks.” I took Charlie by the hand over to their table. Charlie pulled out his wallet.

“Oh for god’s sake put that away and sit down,” Vicki said matter-of-factly.

We joined them. We ordered drinks, and Alan insisted on paying for them. I was enjoying the vodka rocks. Charlie had a gin and tonic. Vicki asked questions. The subject of grad school came up. 

“So when do you leave for California?” Vicki asked.

And then it hit me. Today was the answer, but I couldn’t say it. Today? This very afternoon? Was that true? 

“Very soon,” I replied meekly.

Vicki was genuinely taken aback.

“You can’t be.”

Alan seemed just as distressed. “Aren’t you two a couple?” he asked.

There was silence.

“I may go out for a visit,” Charlie said. 

I hadn’t really that about it, but as I did I realized that the Blues House and Amy and Mike and Tom seemed to be fading in my memory already. But Charlie was another story. I would miss him, I thought. I would miss him more than I cared to admit, and more than I wanted to think about. He was my “Wizard of Oz” scarecrow: “I am going to miss you most of all, Charlie.” 

At that moment, I knew that Charlie would visit me, and I liked the idea.

I looked at Charlie and smiled. “Yeah, he’ll come out for a visit, for sure, eh?” Charlie laughed at my poor effort at a Canadian accent. 

“Good;” said Charlie, “that’s settled.”

Amy showed up at the table. I asked her if it was time to go. It was 3:00 in the morning. The crowd had thinned markedly around 2:00, but it seemed that no one had left since. She said, “No way.” 

There were introductions. Alan kissed her hand. Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots were Made for Walking” came on. We all laughed. Amy grabbed my hand and said, “Come on.”

She dragged me to an open platform.

“No way,” I said. I was only wearing my robe and heels now.

“Please. It’ll be fun.”

I remembered my pledge. What the hell, I thought. This will be it though, I promised myself. I followed her up the steps and on to the platform. 

No one was sitting at the platform when we arrived, but by the time we stood together on on top of it the ten or so seats had filled. Amy was still wearing her snap off shorts, a lacy camisole, and her spiked heel granny boots. We faced each other. 

“Now what?” I asked over the silly song. She put her hands on her thighs and swiveled her hips to the music. I mirrored her movements. We were laughing. There was clapping. Someone shouted, “Yeah baby, it’s a go go.” 

Amy jumped and turned 90 degrees. I swiveled in sync with her. Nancy sang, “…made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do….” I followed Amy as she took steps to the music around the platform. People were lined up behind the people in the seats now. 

I saw Tom and Vanessa, then Charlie and Vicki and Alan. I was embarrassed and I knew I was blushing. Amy turned and faced me again. Her smile was bright, but devious. She pulled her shorts up tight against her crotch and took a step towards me. She put her hands on my shoulders. She started to gyrate her hips in a big, slow circle. I put my hands on her hips and followed her lead: one foot out, back in, the other foot out, back in.

The song started winding down. An audible “aaw” came up from the gathering around the platform. I could see the DJ watching us, grinning ear-to-ear. He was waiving enthusiastically, like he wanted us to wait. A new song started. Amy recognized it first, and grabbed my hand to prevent me from leaving. It was Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls.” 

“Too cool!” Amy blurted out. 

We turned to face the crowd side-by-side, same step, big circular motion with the hips. I was getting the feel of it I thought. Amy pulled off her camisole and threw it on the floor to hoots and hollers from our audience. She turned to face me again. I turned away from her and pretended to by trying to get away. She grabbed my robe at the back of my neck and pulled. I let my arms down to my side and my robe fell off my shoulders and hung from the belt around my waist. More hoots and hollers. Amy came up behind me and cupped my bouncing tits. 

“Toot toot, yeah, beep beep…” and on the “beep beep” she squeezed my tits. The audience roared their approval. Dollar bills were raining on the platform. 

“Turn and face me,” I heard Amy say, and I did. She was standing wide-legged with her hands on her hips, thumbs under the snap flaps of her shorts. I mimicked her with my hands on my hips.

“On the count of three,” then Amy mouthed the words. One, two…. 

She ripped of her shorts in perfect timing to a crescendo beat in the song. I froze. And then I was laughing.

“C’mon!!!” Amy yelled, and first she and then the crowd counted, “One, two…

I pulled the tie with one hand and ripped my robe away from me with the other. I would guess there were only thirty or forty people watching, but I momentarily felt like I was on the stage at Woodstock. 

So there we were in all our glory, Amy buck-naked in boots, me buck-naked in heels, facing each other, feet apart, hands on our hips, triumphant. 

“Hey mister, have you got the time….” 

I loved the way it felt. Amy started shaking her tits, and I mimicked her again, except my tits were so big they didn’t get the same effect. They seemed to slosh around in front of me. How ridiculous I thought. The crowd started to clap. 

She stepped up to me, reached around me, slapped her hand against my ass and pulled me against her. I was a head taller than she was. I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to do. She pushed out one of my feet with one of hers. I kicked off my heels and spread out my legs. She stood up straight and leaned back a little and pressed her pubic mound against mine. I grabbed her ass, she grabbed mine, and we did a grind. 

Cheers went up. Amy’s pubic mound was coming up into me, and her patch of pubic hair was rubbing up against my clit. I tossed back my head, dangling my hair, and swayed to the music. Amy slid down, out of my grasp. I looked, and she was doing a forward split between my legs. She grabbed on to my thighs on the way down and buried her face into my pussy. She latched onto my clit, and the sensation shot through me. I put my hands behind my head. My hips undulated with the music against Amy’s mouth. 

I looked around the room. They seemed like familiar faces: the four frat boys; Rita and Melissa (with some hunky looking guys); Ted (I hadn’t notice he was still there); Bobby and Andy and Wayne (all former lap dance partners – I always asked for their names); The Big Guy; the torpedo-breasted, bleach blondes; Mike (who was arm and arm with a pretty, heavy-set girl wearing too much makeup); Tom and Vanessa; and Vicki and Alan and my Charlie. That’s what I thought when I saw him anyway. “MY Charlie.” I closed my eyes.

I rocked my hips. I kicked out one leg and swung it over Amy’s head, pulling away from her. I grabbed the bar at the center of the platform. I closed my eyes and swayed. I pulled my self up to the bar, and then I squatted, legs splayed, till my pussy pressed against the cool brass (I had seen the other girls do it, and it just seemed like the thing to do at the time). The thought that came to me just then caught me by surprise. I couldn’t wait to get home and sleep, really sleep with Charlie? 

Amy was collecting the money from the floor. She winked at me. I heard a strange agitation from the crowd. A new song was starting. I didn’t recognize it. It had a furious beat and deep, melodic bass notes. Applause, then more applause. I didn’t understand. I turned and saw Dare ascending the steps. 

He was in his beach pants only, barefoot and bare-chested, and I stood up and backed up against the bar. All of a sudden, I was nervous as hell. I held on to the bar behind my back with my ass against my hands. Dare strode over to me. He leaned against me. He put his face next to mine.

“Relax,” Dare said. “Amy put me up to this. We can just dance, make a little money.”

He backed up and looked into my eyes. “You look great.” 

I looked down at myself. I was naked on a stage in a room full with people milling about and a man with a cock the size of a Kosher salami was staring me down. Another song broke, like the first had been an intro, and I recognized it. “That’s the Way (uh huh uh huh) I Like it” by K.C. and the Sunshine Band. Dare spun away from me and started to bucking his hips and moving about the stage. I felt awkward and silly. Amy came up behind me.




A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 14-15



“Come on Annie. Shake it baby!”

Then Dare came up behind me and patted my ass. I was startled. I stepped forward. He stepped around the bar and put his hands on my hips. He pressed up against me from behind, slithering and swaying to the music. I closed my eyes and reached behind me and put a hand behind his head. His hair was free and long, and it tickled my shoulders. I swayed with him. He put a hand on my tummy and pulled us together. I could feel his massive cock begin to stiffen against my ass. 

The song filled my head and made me laugh. He kissed my neck. I kept my eyes closed. His hand slipped down to my pubic mound. The other hand followed. He pressed his hands into my mound. I wiggled my ass against his stiffening cock. 

I turned to face him. Now his hands were on my ass. I grabbed his ass and pulled. His buns were rock hard. He turned around on me. I ran my hands over his chest and stomach. I grabbed his oblique muscles and squeezed. His muscles were taught, his flesh was smooth and hard and rippled. He undid the drawstring to his pants, and just as the music hit “ahhhh…that’s the way…,” his pants slipped down to his ankles. 

The crowd cheered. Holy shit! He was not wearing his thong. 

He put his hands behind him and pressed them on my hips and gripped me firmly, making my hips move with his. I ran my hands over his stomach. I couldn’t help myself. I had to feel his cock. I was just going to feel his cock, and then I was going to get off the stage. I figured this was a once in a lifetime deal, right?

I took the base of his cock in one hand. It was marvelously thick and warm. It grew harder in my hand. I rested the side of my face against his shoulder blade and squeezed the massive wonder. We swayed, I stroked him, and the crowd hummed with excitement. 

He turned and moved behind me this time. I felt his dick begin to slide up against the crack of my ass, hot and hard and huge. He pulled me against him with his hands over my stomach. His cock covered the entire length of my ass. It was heavy against me. I couldn’t get away. 

We swayed a few times, and then with the beat of the music he pushed up against me. He pulled back, and the next time he pushed against me, his cock shot between my legs like a ramrod. I looked down, and his penis was visible in front of me now. It was like I had sprouted a thick, stubby penis head. He rocked back and forth and the flaming heat spread up from my twat and engulfed me. 

“Awww, that’s the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it, uh huh, uh huh….” The music blared.

Then Amy was on stage in front of me, naked in her granny boots. I wondered where she had been. She knelt down in front of me. She took the head of Dare’s cock into her mouth. She sucked on it, and as she did her nose and lips pressed into my swollen twat, against my clit. I watched her. Dare reached around from behind me and took Amy’s head in his hands. He pulled her into us. I held onto his arms. I closed my eyes. There was more applause and now rhythmic clapping.

“Grab hold of the pole,” Dare said, and then I noticed the pole in front of me, a few feet behind Amy. And I knew what was going to happen if I bent forward and grabbed that pole.

Dare pulled back. Time stopped for a moment.

Now I have tried to imagine, on occasion and just for the fun of it, what might have happened if I taken a hold of that pole just then. In my imagination, where I am invulnerable to the raw emotions wrought by reality, it goes something like this:

*****

I bend over and grab the pole. Amy’s mouth lets go of me. The tip of his cock starts into me. It is a slow entry. I close my eyes and grit my teeth in anticipation. Cheers swirl in the air. Amy nuzzles and sucks at my tits while the giant organ presses on deep inside of me. My vagina feels tight and small against the encroaching member. It keeps coming into me until I feel like I can’t give anymore, and then it withdraws slowly. 

Big hands grip my hips. Small hands hold my waist. I open my eyes, and I can see our reflection in a mirror across the room, fleshy hues bleeding into one amorphous, androgynous form. I see Charlie and Alan and Vicki watching me. She smiles at me. Then Dare begins bucking into me with more force and energy. More applause.

I look around the room. At various booths I see naked women sitting on men’s laps, or naked women kneeling with their heads’ in men’s laps, and all the men are watching me leeringly. 

He plunges into me fully; I feel the head of his penis well up inside of me, pressing against the limits of my sanctum. Yet more cheers, more applause. Amy feasts on my swinging breasts. Dare pumps into me. I quiver and shudder and a white-hot light seems to fill me. I grip the pole with all my might. I hear my cry wring out. 

I close my eyes and throw back my head. More white-hot light rips through me. I am drowning in the energy of the crowd. I can see all there faces all at once. They are watching me, and now they are feeding me their energy, it is inside of me now, welling, bursting, until I become the energy – white-hot light. Was this it – the fifth dimension? A warm fluid down my legs: a gusher? I am moaning, bellowing. Howls from the crowd now.

He pulls out of me. His giant penis slides up against my ass. He grips it with both hands, and yet I feel a long portion of his steamy hot prick rubbing against my ass. People in the seats are coming to their feet, peering at me and around me. I hear him groaning, and then like a fire hose, he lets loose on me. I feel his sticky liquid gush onto my back and into the crack of my ass and all over me. 

The crowed cheers wildly. Hollers fill the room. He keeps coming in spurts, oozing more and more cum onto me. I finally stand up, and Amy, like a mother cat, begins to lick my sopping pussy clean with her tongue. I am splattered with fertile seed. I am defiled and fouled and utterly corrupted. Amy stands up and hugs me. She rubs my ass and smears my back with his cum. We kiss to seal my fate, and her mouth is burning with the flood of my feminine ejaculate. She works his cum into my ass. She spreads it all around. We keep kissing to a standing ovation. I am accepted.

*****

Or so that’s how I have sometimes imagined it. There are other scenarios, but there is always one part that remains the same. In my imagination, at the moment of my climax, with Dare’s enormous cock savagely stabbed into my cervix, I am beset by visions that remind me a the scene in “Rosemary’s Baby”: It is the one where Mia Farrow finally recalls being raped by the Demon during what otherwise appears to be a pleasant cocktail party. Remember? Her husband and her kindly old neighbors and the rest of their unassuming satanic coven are there, sipping away politely, encouraging the demonic violation. 

I know, it is kind of creepy, but it always comes to me when I imagine it, and it is the best way to describe exactly what I felt when I decided to get off that stage. 

I felt like I had one moment to make a decision that would affect me for the rest of my life. I suppose the allusion to a satanic ritual is a little dramatic; I didn’t think there was anything “evil” about what was happening. But I disagree with Amy’s insistence that there was no line I could cross, nowhere I could go that I couldn’t come back from. I truly felt that I had been about to cross that line, to go to that place. If I had let Dare enter me on that stage, if I had experienced the white-hot orgasm I now only imagine, I am quite certain that my life would have changed; I would have ceased to be the person I know I am in my heart.

Which is all to say that I simply decided at that precise moment that this whole crazy underground sex scene wasn’t my thing.

So what really happened is this: I said, “I can’t do this Amy,” and I swung my leg over her head and stepped away from Dare.

“You two will have to finish without me,” I said as cheerily as I could. There were a few boos from the crowd, but I certainly didn’t care. 

I picked up my robe and shoes and put it on the robe as I descended the steps. I walked by the table where Charlie and Alan and Vicki were seated, all looking a little dumbfounded. I told Charlie I would be right back. I went to the ladies lounge and got into the shower as quickly as I could. 

And then I took a deep breath and thought about my future and my life.

“Annie?” There was a whisper from the entryway behind me, and I turned. It was Charlie. “I didn’t see anyone, so I… just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

I stood there naked, dripping wet, and I didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you Charlie. I’m fine,” I said finally. “In fact I feel great.”

I had made some decisions.

Charlie looked so sweet, furtively peeking around the wall at me, like he didn’t want to embarrass me. “Okay, I’ll just wait... I’ll be outside then.” he said quietly.

“I will be right out, Charlie.”

“I knew you were fine, but I was just making sure, you know?”

And he was gone before I could thank him again.

When I came out of the lounge I was wearing my jeans and a white blouse. Charlie was still sitting with Alan and Vicki. It looked like the show was over. I didn’t want to talk to anyone but Charlie. I took Charlie by the hand and asked him to follow me. I apologized to Alan and Vicki.

“Where are we going?” Charlie asked a little confused.

I found a quiet corner and I motioned for him to sit down.

“I want to give you a different kind of lap dance,” I said softly.

I sat in his lap sideways and I put my arm around the back of his neck. I put my head on his shoulder, and I asked him to hold me. He brought his arms up around me, in the same way he had carried me off that one night, the night I suppose I first felt what I was now feeling again for Charlie.

“I just want to be with you from now on,” I whispered in his ear.

“Good,” he said, and then he kissed me.

We sat there, cuddled like that, and as Charlie held me and petted my head I realized something important.

I needed to make a major revision to Annie’s Four-dimensional Theory of the Orgasm. Yes, there was most certainly a fifth orgasmic condition, a fifth dimension – an absolute perfect ten. I knew that because I was experiencing it at that very moment.

It is called love.

*******

Epilogue One: That Night

The music ended and it was quiet. Gradually the lights came up.

“It’s four o’clock,” Charlie said looking at his watch.

I purred out a whine and snuggled closer to him. He kept holding me and petting my head.

“Excuse me lovebirds.” 

It was Vicki’s voice. I looked up at her with sleepy eyes. Alan was standing behind her and he nodded at me. Vicki handed Charlie a sheet of paper.

“Alan and I want to do this for you two.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“It is directions to our summer home.”

I was confused. At first I thought she was trying to invite us to there place for something like a date, and I definitely didn’t want that. I meant what I had said to Charlie. 

“Alan and I are off to Montreal for a week. We leave later today. The place will just be sitting there, empty and lonely. So we thought maybe you two would be interested in getting away for awhile.” She waited for a reply.

“You know, before you run off to California,” Alan added.

“I don’t know,” I said startled. 

“Oh, for heavens sake, don’t say no,” Vicki pleaded.

I looked at Charlie in confusion.

“How would we get in, I mean if we were to go,” Charlie asked.

“There’s a gate on the road going into the lake,” Alan said as he stepped closer to us. “You just tell the gatekeeper that you are Annie and Charlie. Someone from security will escort you to the house and let you in. They’ll be expecting you at anytime; I’ll see to it. It’s in your directions.”

There was nothing from Charlie and me but blank looks.

“Oh now, don’t let all the security stuff scare you. It is nothing more than a glorified cottage on a secluded little lake. There are only a few homes on the lake, so it is very private, and very…”

I wanted to do this. It was perfect I decided. I had four weeks before classes started. I could afford a week. 

“…romantic,” Vicki concluded. She waited.

“Thank you,” I said finally. 

“Come on Vicki,” Alan said.

“Thank you,” Vicki said slowly and earnestly to me.

Alan took Vicki’s arm. “Oh, and I’ll leave a number to call if you have any trouble with the boat,” Alan said as they walked away.

“Boat?” Charlie and I said in unison. 

I got off Charlie’s lap and stretched. “How interesting,” I said coyly.

“You mean you want to go?” Charlie asked as he stood up.

“Yes, if you do.”

“It is such short notice,” Charlie said somewhat desperately, and, ridiculously, my heart dropped. He smiled. “Of course I’ll go. How could I refuse an adventure with you?”

“A quiet adventure this time,” I replied.

Amy came over two us. She had changed into her street clothes and she was carrying our beach bag.

She was excited as she told us about how Tom was going home with Vanessa. “She’s the perfect girl for him, really.” We laughed. She said that Mike had fallen for some “blondie bimbo” that was tagging along with Amy’s circle of friends from the club.

“David has this huge suite atop the Ren Cen for tonight,” Amy started, “and a bunch of us are going back there to party, so you guys can have the car. I will watch out for Mike and make sure we get back to the Blues House.” 

Then Amy got a mischievous look on her face. “You guys want to come party with us.”

“Nah,” we both replied. The Ren Cen, or Renaissance Center, was a swanky seventy-story hotel right where the bridge would deposit one back into the U.S. I am sure it was an amazing suite, but I couldn’t help to think that was trying way too hard to party.


“I knew you wouldn’t, but you are absolutely invited. David was very disappointed,” she said accusatorily, pointing her finger at me, “and he was definitely hoping to see you again.”

“What,” Charlie sputtered.

“Not going to happen,” I said smiling. I would explain that David was Dare to Charlie later, if he asked.

“Yeah, I know. I know,” Amy sighed, smiling and giving me a knowing look. There was a pause.

“I guess I won’t see you before you’re off for California,” Amy said, and now she was pouting.

“I don’t know what my plans are anymore,” I said to Amy with my own knowing look. She smiled.

“Well, just in case,” Amy said coming towards me.

We hugged and I didn’t know what to say, so I said, “I’ll never forget you,” and I knew that was an understatement. 

And then Amy did the strangest thing. She hugged me like we were brothers, firm and strong, and leaned up and whispered in my ear. 

“I am proud of you.” And then more loudly, so Charlie could hear: “I like a girl who knows what she wants.”

And what she doesn’t want, I thought. 

Amy asked if we would take the beach bag home. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said suddenly, and she reached into the bag and handed me a huge roll of bills to me. 

“Your share,” she said, and then she whispered to me. “It could have been a lot more.”

That was the last time I ever saw Amy.

I fell asleep leaning against Charlie on the ride home. I woke up and the world was glowing amber in the sunrise. 

“Charlie?”

“Yeah.”

“Did I embarrass you?”

“No.”

There was a long pause. I tried to remember Amy’s words, and then I asked my question. 

“Do you think I’m a dick-loving fuck slut?” I asked meekly.

“Depends.”

I shot up and slugged his shoulder. “It depends? On what?”

“Do you want to be a dick-loving fuck slut?”

It was quiet for a moment. “It was fun,” I said. “Fun, but really weird sometimes, too.” 

“Annie?”

“Yes Charlie.”

“You can be MY dick-loving fuck slut, if you want.”

We both laughed. He put his arm around me and I kissed him on the cheek. 

“Okay. I’d like that,” I said.

*******

Epilogue Two: And Then The Rest of My Life

Vicki and Alan’s “cottage” was spectacular. It was like a movie set. There were big moss rock fireplaces in seemingly every room in the house, and Charlie and I made love in front of each one of them. We slept in every morning, luxuriating in the giant canopy bed. We took rides around the lake in the vintage wooden Cris-Craft motorboat we found in the boathouse (yes, boathouse). Mostly, though, we talked. I never wanted it to end.

It rained in torrents one night. The deck off the living room was covered, and it was warm even in the rain, so we left the sliding glass door open. We made love in front of a roaring fire with only the rain for our music. It was a languorous session, and afterwards I got a craving for hot chocolate. 

I had loved hot chocolate as a little girl, and I hadn’t had any in years, and with the rain and the fire it just seemed mandatory. I searched the shelves for hot chocolate in a frenzy. I made quite a production out of it, and Charlie got to laughing. I finally found some in the pantry, and I went through the trouble of making sure the water was the perfect temperature and the cups had just the right amount of cocoa. 

I finally sat down with Charlie in front of the fire. We were sitting cross-legged, facing each other in big terry cloth robes, and I was fussing over how much Charlie liked his hot chocolate.

“No, but do you really like it?” I asked for the third time. “I could heat it up.”

He wouldn’t answer me. He just stared at me bemusedly. 

“What,” I finally said.

“I love you, Annie Malone.”

My heart soared. I had wanted to say it a hundred times, but I had wanted to hear him say it first. Not because I was stubborn. It was because, after all we had been through, I needed to believe it, to know it was true.

I started to cry (of course). It was hard for me to talk through all my blubbering. 

“Well, fine;” I managed, “to hell with the goddamn hot chocolate then!” And then I moved our cups to the side and attacked him. 

Charlie transferred to the University I was attending a semester later. We drove back to California together after Christmas, and he lived with me in a cozy little apartment on the top of a hill near campus. We got married in the spring of 1982. We are still married, and we are still very much in love. 

When our daughter went off to college last year, I worried for her. It is what made me write this down. I tried to think of what lesson I had learned from my experiences. 

I told her this – inthe end, it’s always about love. Love for life, love for friends, love for yourself, and the true love of another human being. Have as much fun as you possibly can, I said, but know that sooner or latter you are going to find something missing and want something more. When the time comes, don’t search for more sex or drugs, or for another party -- search for love. Love is the only thing in life that can fulfill you, and satiate the hunger in your soul. Search for love, and from then on whatever happens will be for the best. 

I will tell our son the same thing when he leaves for college. My heart aches to think of them leaving us. Whatever they experience, I hope they experience it with love in their hearts. 

And I hope to God they never find out about my summer as a naughty, sex-crazed, dick-loving fuck slut. 

You CAN keep a secret, can’t you?