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Deep Secret Ch. 01 - Debut

By: Global Carol



This is the first chapter of a total of thirty.

01 - Debut

Ah, the beach in Hawaii. One of the young women who just walked by with her two girlfriends had wonderfully large and almost perfectly hemispherical breasts. They looked firm, or at least firmer than my wife's. Not that my wife has floppy breasts, mind you. Hers are really great, not much less firm than when we met more than a dozen years ago.

But, the young woman who just walked by, maybe in her early twenties, had tits like my wife, Amanda, used to have. I'm still enjoying watching her and her friends walking off in the distance, hoping she'll turn sideways just a little so I can see those wonderful boobs, even from this far away, in profile.

The problem I always have is my memories from before Amanda. There was a woman who, well...

It's not that I'm not happy. Amanda is a beautiful woman; often heads will turn when we walk into an event together – and they're not looking at me, unless it's the guys asking, "What does she see in him?" Plus, Amanda is extremely intelligent, caring, a great mom, and she loves me.

In addition, we have a great sex life. With the kids, of course, it's certainly less frequent than before they were born, but it's still good. We fuck a few times a week. Occasionally we do other stuff, too. As I mentioned, I'm not unhappy.

It's just that I sometimes think about a woman I used to know who was the perfect woman, the most incredible, as in hard-to-believe, amazing woman.

Although, I guess that's not true or we'd be together, right? Yet, she was the perfect woman in so many ways.

Her name was Simone and I met her when I was 27 and working at a large management consulting and accounting firm. I was working during the day towards my CPA and going to school nights and weekends to get my MBA. It didn't leave much time for anything else.

One day, though, I saw this vision at the gym and it changed my life, changed it forever.

The urban-suburban area where I lived was not that close to work, but I rented a sweet apartment, my gym was a block away, and it was convenient to many local shops. The gym was a classy place: free towels, both the small ones to wipe up one's sweat and big cushy ones for after a hot shower. It was expensive, but worth it for the convenience and some of the hot women whom I'd see there.

With the stress of school and work, it was worth it for as much as I enjoyed working out and certainly it was worth it to be able to ogle unknowingly (well, so every guy thinks, right?) the array of good-looking women who were members too.

What's that old joke? Question: What's the definition of a perfect woman? Answer: Three feet tall, no teeth, and a flat head so that you can put your beer on it. OK, so I can't tell a joke. Sue me.

It's just that this woman I used to know, Simone, had some qualities that sometimes make me ache when I think back...

When I was in high school I had two "serious" relationships. I thought I was so mature and knew it had to be true love. One of the girls was tall and skinny. She wanted to wait and stay a virgin, but loved to suck me. She was OK at it, but, though she'd let me come in her mouth, it always made her gag a little and she wouldn't swallow. But, hey, I got blowjobs. I'm not complaining. It's just that when you have a great orgasm in a woman's mouth, having her almost retch on your semen is not the ideal way to have a good feeling about the whole experience.

The other girl was smaller and a cheerleader, muscular and curvy with big boobs. I played with those babies whenever I could, but it didn't seem to do much for her. When it came to sex, all she would do is let me play with her boobs and pussy while she jerked me off.

High school, for me, didn't involve a whole bunch of fucking, but it made me desire or actually hunger for boobs and blowjobs. (I doubt I'm in the minority on this, I mean, the desire for a woman with nice boobs and who enjoys giving blowjobs.)

I remember sitting there at my high school graduation thinking: If only I could get the boobs and the blowjobs from the same girl, life would be perfect. Maybe I'd find someone with big boobs who loved to give blowjobs (and swallow) when I got to college in the fall.

I had a great time in college, met some really wonderful women, and got laid at least some of the times I wanted to. Women who enjoyed giving blowjobs and had great big boobs, less so, but I had my share of relationships and one-night stands. It was all good, even if I never found that perfect woman.

Fortunately, that happened ten years after that realization during the playing of a tune that we all know as Graduation Music (but for those music lovers it's Edward Elgar's "Pomp and Circumstance March Number 1").

That's when I saw Simone at the gym – and it wasn't exactly like you see it in the movies. She wasn't wearing anything sexy, there was no sexy music, no back lighting as she might shake her head and long hair in slow motion. (How retro, huh?)

As a matter of fact Simone seemed to try to make herself as unappealing as possible, though she would never be perceived as unappealing. No way.

The first time I saw her, I was putting weights on a bar to do some presses on a bench. She was just about to sit down, facing away from me, on a pull-down machine. She was wearing baggy long shorts (now that's a phrase for George Carlin fans, like "jumbo shrimp"), running shoes and socks, and a big, baggy long sleeve shirt over a t-shirt.

She had strong, but thin legs like a model. Even with the big shorts you could tell those long lean legs went up to a perfectly formed bottom and narrow, but seemingly long waist.

That was about all I could see from behind, but I remember sensing that there was something wrong with this picture. I just didn't know what it was. After doing three sets of presses I got up and looked for her, but she was gone.

I made a note of when it was and, for the next week, tried to go back at the same time, but I never saw her. After two or three weeks my mystery woman began to disappear from my fantasy world and I just went when I could.

Fortune had not forgotten me, however, and about a month after I first saw her I noticed her get on a treadmill a few down from one I was using. She had on similar workout clothes and I was able to see her in one of the gym's mirrors. I was just staring out into space, but if I kept the corner of my eye on this one mirror I could monitor the cute blonde without ogling overtly.

It was after about ten minutes that she had warmed up and had a good running pace going she spread her legs to stand on the outside rails of the treadmill and took off the top that was over her t-shirt. She pulled it over her head and for a second it seemed like every sound in the gym hushed as I – and virtually everyone else, men and women – thought he or she was looking at her surreptitiously. Because of her running she'd perspired a bit and the t-shirt clung to much of her torso.

She was so very slender. Her rib cage was so thin.

Yet, it was huge.

It was impossible!

At first this young woman appeared super tall, but I realized she was simply tallish, perhaps 5'9" or 5'10" with the thin body of a ballet dancer or a fashion model.

But then there were the breasts. The massive breasts. After a few moments of silence as she finally got the light sweat shirt over her head, threw it on the floor in front of the treadmill, and got back into her running pace, sound returned – and maybe breathing too – to the room. Heads kept glancing in her direction.

It was surely a joke. She must have taken cantaloupes and gotten some kind of contraption to hold them over her own boobs. Weird. Sexy, but weird.

Well, I said to myself, maybe she's just a piece of work. Let's face it: tall, thin women who look like they just left a lingerie modeling shoot don't have boobs that large. They have proportionately sized breasts or possibly expensively enhanced, but natural looking breasts.

What was so strange was that she appeared to be very serious and focused on her workout. Unlike many other women there she seemed to wear no make-up, lipstick, eyeliner, mascara, or any of that other crap. She didn't smile, didn't make eye contact with anyone. She ran for about three-quarters of an hour, cooled down, and got off.

That was when it happened. It's a guy thing or maybe it's just sick, slightly perverted me, but I had to continue looking at her throughout her treadmill routine. Those large whatever-they-weres didn't seem to bounce much, but they probably weren't real. Maybe she was a stripper or topless dancer and she'd had them done "extra large" to earn big money.

Truth to tell, though, she didn't look like a stripper. She looked more like a college student, young, determined, and, even with that impossible physique, sweet and innocent.

But, back to what happened. She got off the treadmill and walked around front to pick up her gray sweatshirt. As she leaned over to pick it up, I had a split second glance down her t-shirt. She was not wearing one of those sports bra contraptions; it was just what, in that quick peek, looked like a regular white bra with huge cups. And, I saw a glimpse of a boob that was unlike anything I'd ever seen except in porn. She had tits the size of her short, blond-haired head and cleavage that, well, let's just say, if you went exploring, bring a flashlight.

After she toweled off the treadmill's display she quickly disappeared. I – and many other eyes in the room – followed her, but she turned a corner into the area where classes are held. It was not terribly surprising that the tenor in the room rose slightly as some, who'd been as diverted as I had been, went back about their business.

The guy on the treadmill next to me said in a hushed voice, "My wife says they're real."

"Huh, what?" I asked him, still a little preoccupied with the images I was now trying to burn into my brain. Talk about jerk-off material!

"That girl," he went on, "those are real. My wife's seen her in the women's locker room. She never talks to anyone (apparently quite shy), but my wife's just caught a peek or two at her when she's seen her in there."

After a moment, I thought to ask him how she'd know, but I think women just know. I replied to him in such a way as to show how my mind was not in the gutter like his with a classy, "Amazing! Those are the biggest tits I've ever seen, but on a skinny thing like that..." I paused for effect, "Jeez!"

You see. Classy, right?

It was the following week that she and I spoke. It was not a "meet cute" moment. I just made an ass of myself when I was staring at another woman while doing a set of flies. She came up on the other side of me and asked, "Can I please have the 25s when you're done?"

I started to say to whomever was being a pain in the neck, "Why don't you just find – " and then I turned, " – your – oh my god!"

Then I dropped both of the 25s. They hit the floor with a loud crash causing everyone who wasn't already looking at Simone to turn our way.

"You could have handed them to me, jerk," she said, picking them up and walking over to a free bench.

I attempted to excuse myself, but I couldn't manage to get anything coherent out of my mouth. Anyway, what the heck was this skinny thing – with the largest boobs in the world – going to do with a pair of 25-pound dumbbells?

I moved to another machine, but kept an eye on her as she did some controlled curls and similarly controlled shoulder shrugs. The shrugs caused those massive breasts to move up and down like water balloons on a bungie cord in slow motion. It was mesmerizing, virtually impossible not to stare.

A half-hour later I saw her in the lobby, dressed in boots, jeans, and a short, leather, zippered jacket on her way out the door.

Throwing caution to the wind – as I did not like being rejected – I ran up to her I said, "I must apologize for dropping those weights. It was simply that you startled me. I'm just glad I didn't drop them on your foot."

"Well, you came awfully close," she replied. "You should be more careful."

Then she paused, eyeing me as if to see if I was a jerk. It seemed that this had happened often.

"And the way you – and almost everyone stares at me in there – I find it hard to believe that I'd startle you!" she finally said, daring me to come back with some snide comment about her body.

Fortunately for me, I managed to bite my tongue. Maybe it was because the jacket was partly unzipped, but quite large; it was really hard to know what was jacket and what was her.

So, forgetting for a moment that she was a one-in-a-million woman, I managed to stay away from anything to do with her body and said in my most deep, manly, mocking voice, "Well, uh, we men, you know, we hunt to provide nourishment for our womenfolk and we work hard to see to their safe keeping – um, and the young-uns, o' course. The future of the race depends on our knowledge of what goes on around us. So, it's important for us to be vigilant."

"What a bunch of sexist bullshit," she said, cracking an adorable smile and ultimately laughing as she said, "but I will give you points for originality, albeit, stupid originality."

Realizing that I was actually breaking the ice here, I said, "I'm sorry, uh, my name is Ed Spectere." In an instant I thought about and dismissed the follow-up: "And you are?" I wanted to make sure to get her name, but this would leave me open for the old "...not interested" response (as in "I am ... not interested.") Instead I just smiled, hoping she'd tell me her name.

"Simone Ponte," she said. Then added, with a tad of contrition, "I'm sorry if I lost my sense of humor." With a slight hand gesture at her body and a glance of her beautiful blue eyes, she added, "Occasionally the staring just gets to me."

Thinking I was probably moving too fast and – wishing I could take back what I said, the moment I said it – out came, "Well, Simone, do you have plans for dinner tonight?"

Deep Secret Ch. 02 - Epicurean



Chapter 02 - Epicurean

We finished eating at a local Spanish restaurant, finishing a bottle of Rioja and then a carafe of Sangria. I try to drink cheap wine infrequently, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

Naturally we both got very drunk. Over some espressos the conversation turned to the general area of sex, but since I don't recall all the details it probably was very general. Suffice it to say we laughed a lot and I kept trying to figure out how to get her to go home with me.

By the end of dinner she had removed both her leather jacket and a light, cotton sweater. She was wearing only a gray, baggy, extra-large t-shirt and slim cut jeans. Simone excused herself to go to the ladies room and I couldn't help but follow her with my eyes.

And though it was relatively dark in the restaurant, almost every pair of eyes noticed her walk, albeit a little unsteadily, to the restrooms. At a table on the other side of the place, the waiter even stopped serving the dishes on his tray.

Her butt looked so cute and taut in those tight jeans. And with her slender shape she looked even taller than the 5'10" she'd told me she was. No one could quite understand how a young woman could be so slim and have breasts that large. Once she turned the corner, conversations recommenced and, after a moment or two, a few snide chuckles emanated, obviously Simone's figure being the butt of their jokes.

Earlier, while we'd still been relatively sober she explained some of the problems of being Simone. This restaurant-wide reaction was a perfect example of one of the things she'd mentioned. People always made comments, bumped into things, snorted, gawked, and were just plain rude, as though she were a cartoon, not a person.

I, of course, had a hard time not staring at her chest too, at least at first, but as we talked and laughed I found a warm, bright, young woman. She became more than just a pair of tits. (Did I really ever think that? Yeah, I guess I did. Shame on me!) Simone wanted to work for a few years, save enough to go to college, and maybe go into the healthcare industry. College -- and saving the money for it -- were her most important goals. She wanted to be out of college before she was 27.

It was impressive how she had such a clear-cut plan. She was now 22 and had just come from the "hick town" (her words, not mine) a few months ago where she'd grown up.

She returned from the restrooms mostly oblivious to the brief, renewed attention. As she sat down, after a quick look at her boobs, I looked at her pretty face with its high cheekbones and her beautiful blue-green eyes. Not every woman can pull off a really short haircut, but with her long, slender neck and graceful shoulders she did it flawlessly.

In fact it was so strange to look at her from her shoulders up or from her waist down and see the body of a ballet dancer or model. Then you looked at her chest and asked yourself, "Where did that come from?"

As we were getting ready to go, even though we'd already finished our meal, I gulped down the last of my wine. There was just an ounce or two in the carafe and I asked her if she wanted it. She quixotically answered me, "No, thanks, I think it's polite to leave a little. I always leave a half of one percent."

Looking at her glass I noticed that a small taste of the red was still sitting there.

Hmm, I thought: I wonder what that's about.

"So," I asked as we were leaving the restaurant arm in arm, swaying a little, laughing a lot, "did you come here often?"

She laughed at that, but I truly wasn't trying to be a wit. I was trying simply to say something pithy. Clearly that wasn't happening, but what she did say was perfect.

"In modern society," she replied firmly in a faux British accent, "a woman can come anywhere she wants to." We both broke up at her choice of words.

"... and, anytime she wants to," she added, with a smile, and after a pause, "too."

Another couple of dates over the next two or three weeks went nicely, but I felt awkward about getting hands-on with her. She was not doing it with me and I didn't want to be just another boob who only wanted a couple of playmates. It was OK for the time being. I was having a great deal of fun with her. She laughed easily at my jokes and, something kind of rare for me, she made me laugh too.

Of course, most nights after our dates I'd have such vivid images in my head (a glimpse of a bra strap, a picture of her perfect little butt, a guess as to whether it was her nipple I was making out through whatever she wore) that I had plenty -- of at least a part of her -- to keep me personally entertained through the elongating fall nights.

Eventually one Saturday we went out to a club to listen to a pianist do a solo gig. He specialized in the old standards and it was great music-making. In the audience were a few of his friends who got up and sang some numbers by Porter, Kern, Berlin, and Gershwin.

Simone wore a shiny dark red skirt with a flimsy black top that covered her well, but was cut lower than anything I'd seen her on before. It had a little bit of a V-neck that on most women would probably not show any cleavage. In Simone's case it showed a decorous, but decoratively delicious dab of décolletage. In her pearl necklace and earrings, black semi-transparent stockings and dark red heels she was a knockout. Standing, she was now taller than I; it was harder than ever to keep my eyes away from her torso.

Excusing myself to take a bathroom break I was thankful that the hard-on, which had been coming and going (poor choice of words, right?) all night, was now not at full staff.

From the small speakers in the men's room I heard another voice begin to sing a Gershwin song. It was one I didn't know well, but in typical Gershwin fashion had a little "blue note" at the end of the refrain. Unmistakable Gershwin. I returned to my table and didn't see Simone. I figured she'd probably taken a bathroom break, too, until I looked up at the pianist. I was pleasantly surprised to see he was joined by none other than my Simone singing "How Long Has This Been Going On?"

This young woman had more talent than easily meets the eye. In fact, she sounded like a professional singer. Maybe she wasn't going to be singing at Carnegie Hall any time soon, but she could certainly hold her own with most of the Broadway and cabaret singers I'd heard. It was a great combination of sex and singing, so much so that after she finished, the club broke out into such lengthy applause that she was obliged to sing an encore.

After a quick conference with the pianist, he motioned to one of his buddies in the audience, an older gentleman, probably in his late 70s or early 80s. I wondered what the two of them were up to.

A new huddle, a three-person one, and a moment later the old fellow began to do a tap dance on the little stage with no accompaniment. He was moving easily and calmly with virtually no upper body motion. His feet were setting a fast tempo with a lot of syncopation, though, and I wondered what would come next.

Suddenly the pianist hit one loud note and Simone took off singing with just the tapping for accompaniment, "I got rhy -- thm. I got mu -- sic. I got my man. Who could ask for an -- y -- thing more?"

Boom! Another piano chord and Simone continued.

The dancer and Simone kept the song moving as the pianist, little by little, snuck in to support them with more detail and a richer sound canvas. By the time they finished the bridge, the three of them were cooking up a storm. In fact, a few couples in the audience had gotten up to dance to the hectic but infectious rhythm.

By the second time they got to the bridge, Simone was tapping too, trading fours with the old tap dancer, matching him step for step and continuing to sing the tune.

The three of them were in such synchronicity that they "knew" to slow down on the final chorus and all of them sang it in three-part harmony.

Who was this amazing woman?

"That was fantastic!" I told her after several rounds of applause, bows, and one patron ordering champagne for everyone. "So, what else do you do in your spare time?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," she told me, removing some tissues from her purse and dabbing with a bead of perspiration on her forehead.

I picked up my glass of champagne. "Have you ever sung professionally? Or danced, for that matter?" I asked her. "Where or when did you become so talented?"

"Ed," she said to me. "I really like being with you." Then she leaned in close and gave me a quick kiss.

I'd been hoping for some more information, but clearly she wasn't sharing any more of it at the moment.

Later in the evening the music slowly became very romantic. Simone reached for my hand and pulled my arm around her shoulders.

It was a reasonably clear sign and felt great. Her shoulder was slender, but strong. Under her top I could feel her bra's shoulder strap. For me at that moment it felt like a jolt of electricity, like I was given permission to enter Xanadu.

Suddenly I had a hard-on that just wouldn't stop. Not that many of them just stop, but this one felt like I had gone way beyond the end of my boxers and I was hoping we weren't going to have to stand up soon. It would have felt like I was in ninth grade having to walk to my next class with my hard-on I had gotten from staring at Brenda Taylor's bra through her blouse that occasionally opened between buttons. Not cool.

For a split second I flashed on Brenda, having recently seen her at our tenth high school reunion. She still looked hot that night after all those years.

Boy! Is that just like me? I'm with the most amazing woman I've ever seen in person or even in the media and I'm reminiscing about some ditzy broad from high school. "Stay focused, you idiot," I told myself. (Anyway, Simone's areolas were probably bigger than Brenda's boobs!)

The closeness of Simone, her perfume, her hair, her head on my shoulder was wonderfully exotic. The longer she stayed there the more and more I craved her and the more I wanted to reach for the hooks on her bra. Even though I've never been much of a numbers guy, I was getting awfully curious about her bra size, how many eye-hooks her bra would have, would she have matching panties, even what brand of bra it was.

OK. So I was getting focused, but it wasn't the kind of focus that was terribly helpful.

Soon, the set was over. My arm was still around Simone's shoulder and now her hand was holding mine in my lap. She had been holding her hand on top of mine there, but then she switched it over and the back of her hand was resting on my erect cock running down my pants, aiming at the inner side of my knee cap.

It didn't take her much time at all (a second, perhaps less) to realize that her knuckles were not resting on my thigh, but on my thing.

"Aha," she said as she turned to smile at me, "what have we here?" And with that she let go of my hand, turned hers over, and slowly felt my hard-on from its mid-shaft, up to its base, and then slowly and expertly down over the ridge of my head to its very end. She actually seemed to put one finger directly in front of the opening as if wanting to feel for pre-cum.

I was just thankful I'd worn black slacks so that if I had an unexpected orgasm (always a delightful surprise, but...), which her ministrations appeared to be starting, it wouldn't be noticeable. Uncomfortable afterwards? Yes. Worth it? Yes. Noticeable? At this point, ask me if I care.

"Ooh, this big dick feels like it's ready to burst," she said in my ear. "We should do something about that. I would hate it if you had an orgasm right here and I couldn't join you."

"I, I think I can make it OK back to my place," I kiddingly replied, "but only if you stop now and keep your hand off my cock."

After a second I added, "I can't believe I actually uttered those words."

"Yeah," she said, "I've had other men tell me similar things. It comes with the territory. And in my case there's a lot of territory!"

"You mean other men have come in their pants from just your fondling?"

"Ed, honey, I've seen men come just from watching me in a big old fashioned one-piece swimsuit get out of the river and dry off."

"Hmm," I grunted, thinking about that statement. It was at once extremely exciting and simultaneously made me jealous or envious or -- I didn't know what.

Bottom line for the moment, though: This was good, really good. The message was that Ed was getting something tonight. Wasn't there a Tim Allen joke about this? He says, "My wife can predict the future, you know. She can tell whether or not I'm going to get laid tonight!"

As we were getting up to leave I noticed that Simone had left a little bit of champagne in her glass. That must be her half-of-one percent, I thought to myself, I've got to find out about that.

We managed to make it back to my car without a stealth orgasm and, though she rested her hand on my thigh, she was careful not to overdo it.

My mind began to consider her sexual experience. Though we'd danced around the subject in very general and impersonal ways, we had not talked about techniques, birth control, numbers of partners, etc.

We both threw our coats on living room furniture and quickly made it to the bedroom. We stood next to my bed and kissed.

Now, I think I'm like most guys: kissing is cool. It's fun. But just making out is not nearly as much fun if you're pretty sure that's all that's going to happen. In other words, "OK, let's give kissing a shot for, say, twenty, maybe thirty seconds. Done? Good. Let me see your tits. Now let's fuck."

This kiss, though, was beyond all that. Simone's tongue caressed my lips, my tongue, and some other parts of my mouth I hadn't even known had been there. It almost made me forget anything else, even breathing. All I could do was succumb to her tongue, her lips, her mouth making love to mine. It was an absolutely new experience for me. Wow!

While she was doing that with her mouth, her hands, unbeknownst to me, were busy. In fact, by the time we'd both decided to take a break from the very sexual kiss, I was naked from my head to my ankles where my pants, underpants, socks, and shoes were sitting in a pile around and on my feet.

Her skirt was also on the floor and my hard-on was tightly clamped between her thighs and the crotch of her black panties through her black, transparent pantyhose.

How she did all of that while we'd been enjoying that kiss was very impressive. I suddenly felt that maybe she'd had more sexual experience than I had assumed -- or that I had much less experience than I should have!

Apparently she wanted me naked. I liked that idea and, as she bent down to complete the process she rubbed my groin with the top of her head. An accident? No way.

After getting me completely out of my clothes, she came up slowly kissing her way up, stopping briefly to lick the tip of my cock. Then she popped the head into her mouth, licked the underside for a brief moment, then popped me back out. Continuing the trip up my torso, she finished the little kisses at my neck, now standing up straight, still in her heels, and a couple of inches taller than I.

As her kisses continued to my ears and upper parts of my neck, my head naturally bent forward. I realized that she was also slowly rubbing my back and the backs of my arms, occasionally drifting down to my butt, grabbing a hold of it firmly, rubbing it, and then moving back up to my delts.

Another thing that occurred to me was that I was just standing there. I hadn't moved a thing. I think she had put a hex on me. I was virtually incapable of moving anything as she caressed my body.

Then I realized two more things: (1) my cock was back between her legs and her thigh muscles were somehow massaging it and (2) she hadn't even taken off anything but her skirt.

What was happening to me? I was normally the more assertive one in most relationships, at least at the beginning of the first night. At this moment, I was at her mercy.

Between the alcohol we'd had at the club, the tingling feeling it had on every inch of my body, and the aroma of her perfume mixed with some uniquely female bouquet, I just stood there as she broke from me. My eyes were still closed with my body still reeling, awash in her sensuality. After a moment or two I opened my eyes and discovered that she had shut off the lights, lit a candle on the dresser, and was lying under the sheets, apparently naked.

"Well, silly, carpe diem or perhaps it's carpe nocte. (I'm a little rusty on my Latin.) I'm so hot for you I can't stand it anymore. Look at that beautiful hard-on just sticking out there. Wouldn't you be more comfortable with that inside me? We wouldn't want that guy to catch a cold -- and it is a little cool in this room with that window open."

"How did you do that?" I asked her. "One second we were standing here, we were kissing, you were rubbing my shoulders and my butt. I loved that. Now, you're naked in my bed and I'm standing here like an idiot pointing to the nightstand."

"Oh, you're very observant," she kidded. "You should get into an accelerated MBA program!"

"Now just hold on, missy," I teased her as I got under the covers. "You've done this before, haven't you? And here I thought you were a virgin."

"Oh, I'm sorry, if you'd prefer a virgin I can call up a woman I know. She can be a virgin for a grand a night!" she said, beginning to get out of bed.

Consider my conflict: I wanted to see those boobs more than anything else in the world. I also wanted to fuck her more than anything else in the world. How can I want two conflicting things concurrently?

Ah, yes, a mind is a terrible thing to waste. In my case, with all the blood having left my brain and ensconced it all in my loins, I decided to stay just where I was and put my arms around her.

She had a condom, from where I had no idea, and while she carefully put it on me without even looking she said, "You know, I think it was W.C. Fields who said a virgin was 'young, female, and ugly.' Well, I'm neither the first nor the last of those items."

"Didn't he also say, 'It was a woman who drove me to drink, but I never got a chance to thank her'?"

She laughed. And with that chuckle, I was about to kiss her and make my move, but I was pre-empted. She got up over me, straddling my cock, and plopped herself down on me with a small wet sound, impossible to define.

God, did she feel good. Entering her pussy was truly the promised land. She took most of me in and then forced the rest, pushing my cock all the way in so that her clit must have hit my pubic bone. Between the feeling of my cock and the pressure on her clit she came with a loud moan. I was so horny I was afraid I would too and it would be over.

I tried to think about anything else in the world. I thought about the Woody Allen joke in one movie where he was in bed with a woman telling her his trick for lasting so long: he thinks about baseball and it works to take his mind off sex for the nonce. She says to him, "Yeah, I couldn't understand why you kept yelling, 'Slide, slide.'"

Once she calmed down I realized that she was moving again. She was a very good mover. She was in great shape and quite strong so she could repeatedly move up and down, just using her legs. It was wonderfully erotic just lying there letting her do all the work. I knew my orgasm was not too far off, but I still wanted to delay it.

A good idea came to me: look around the room at things. It was hard with her steady pussy movements, her kissing me and my neck and rubbing my chest.

I looked at the clock and noticed it was almost 3:00 AM. This was a late night. OK, back to the room. I panned around as best I could, realizing that I too was moaning now, even with my best efforts at preoccupation. I looked at the upholstered armchair I kept on the other side of the bedroom. I saw her blouse and skirt. But...




Deep Secret Ch. 02 - Epicurean



There it was: a white underwire bra with some lacey parts, but an underwire like none I'd ever seen. I didn't even know they made wires that large. I couldn't believe it, but just seeing half of her bra hanging down from the top of the wing of the chair made me even more excited.

Those were larger than any cups on any bra. It boggled my mind and got me very ready to come.

It was at that moment that I felt her continuing to caress my shoulders and holding on firmly to my triceps. I could not understand how she could do that and caress my chest at the same time. Then I realized: she was not caressing my chest with her arms.

Those were her massive boobs rubbing my chest. I wanted so badly to peek, but it felt like some kind of breach of trust. If tonight was good -- and it appeared that it was, at least on my side -- there'd be plenty of time to see and play with those mounds. For now I needed to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Are you getting close? I can feel that you are," she said to me. "Ed, are you excited? Are you going to come?"

"Simone, everything you're doing is so hot I can't believe it. I've been trying to keep from coming."

"Oh, so that's why you've been yelling 'Slide, slide,'" she said.

"You know that line from Annie Hall?" I asked her.

"Hey, I may be a rube, but I wasn't born yesterday," she said. "So, getting back to my question, 'are you getting close?' I know you are, aren't you?"

"Oh baby, you feel so good, so tight, so wet," I said, "I just need, I just need, I just..."

She knew what I needed. I don't know how, but she did something with her pussy that was incredibly sexy and grinded herself on me like my cock was shoved into a well-lubricated paper towel roll, tightly and completely enveloping every inch of my cock and then some. She then reached back around behind her and massaged my balls while putting pressure on the area just below them with a finger or two.

That did it.

"Oh jeez," I cried out. "That is so... "

"Yes, yes," she joined me. "It is."

And with that I came inside her like a cannon. With each shot she came with me, waiting for each one and climaxing along with me. It was as though each of my ejaculations were triggers for her orgasms.

It was also extremely hot. I think it made me ejaculate more times than I ever had in my life. Could I really ejaculate more than a dozen times? No way. But it felt like it -- and I know I counted at least to ten.

Who the fuck cares? Right?

I kept coming. She kept coming. There was no doubt this was the greatest fuck I'd ever had.

Eventually, the climaxing had to stop and as I began to slow down so did she. Her look of sheer pleasure changed slightly to one of satisfaction and contentment. A subtle change, but a change nonetheless.

As I finally stopped moving, she collapsed upon me. I felt her massive tits act like two cushions between her rib cage and mine. I thought about the pleasure we could have exploring those babies together, but for now I was spent.

"Oh, man," she said softly into my ear, "Ed, that was dynamite. I haven't come that hard in a long time."

"Baby, it was all you," I answered her. "You were amazing."

And with that mutually shared confirmation that this night's sex had been a smashing success she got off me, excused herself, and went to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up in the other bathroom and returned to bed while she was still in the bathroom, taking a shower.

I had this nagging feeling that there was something I needed to do, but it didn't come to me.

Sleep, however, did.



Deep Secret Ch. 03 - Easy



Getting laid in a bed with a view of open ocean for miles makes you feel huge in so many ways. It's as though the vast body of water is yours and yours alone. There's little else but sky, water, and the beautiful woman who just gave you this enormous rush of pleasure.

There's a limerick that goes something like:

In the Garden of Eden lay Adam,

Complacently stroking his madam,

And large was his mirth,

For on all of the earth,

Were only two balls and he had 'em.

That's exactly what I felt like.

I threw on some shorts and went out to the veranda. It was late afternoon with a sunset full of those indescribable colors, the ones you can't quite capture with a camera.

Hearing my wife Amanda start the shower, I briefly considered the fun in joining her, but instead I poured myself some Grey Goose from the freezer, squeezed in some lime, and pondered life's array of nodes, the ones where you make decisions or decisions are made for you.

It's a strange thing. Isn't there a butterfly hypothesis? If it lands here, the universe will follow one course; if it lands there, the future will be completely different. Who knows?

Simone had not been far from my mind since we left the mainland to come to Hawaii. Odd, as she and I had never traveled far from home.

Both Simone and I were so young. At 27 I felt like I was king of the world, knew everything there was to know, just working towards that CPA and MBA, to land that partnership. I was on my way to working my ass off.

Nevertheless, there always seemed to be time -- or maybe she made me make the time -- for her.

I remember waking up late the next day, Sunday morning. It made sense, as we didn't even get to sleep until close to four AM. I was alone. She'd left a terse, but cute, note.

Ed,

Mmm. Sex, good.

No: Great!

Again, soon.

Simone

Not exactly the Bard, but her message was clear. I'd had a great time too. Her skin felt so smooth and she was so firm. I could still feel those gargantuan breasts with their very stiff nipples running across my chest. How any woman could have such large, natural breasts and still have a figure that was slender, muscular, taut, and feminine was only one of the many incredible things about her.

Fleetingly, I thought about that large white bra that had been draped over the wing of the wingchair in my bedroom. I envied that chair. That chair could probably have read the label on that bra, the label I really wanted to read.

Eventually I learned her bra size, but by the time I did, it hardly mattered to me at all, and much less than I had thought it would. She was Simone. Period. She was simply the sexiest and most sexual woman I've ever met.

Little did I know as I drove to my study group a day later, that -- after her first, fantastic, frenulum-friendly feat of fellatio -- the very concept of sex, long-held, deep in my core beliefs had begun to change forever. Simone's oral talents were astounding. Just as her figure pushed the limits of what a female form could take, her mouth and the pleasure it could bring to a man broke any and all boundaries.

What I was yet to learn was to what degree her mouth gave her pleasure.

After that morning blowjob over pancakes (both figuratively and literally) our sex life changed subtly. We would still go to bed and screw like we usually did. However, after we'd rest a bit, if it was still early enough and we were both up for it she would go down on me.

I remember asking her if I could return the favor on quite a few occasions, but she told me candidly the first several times that she preferred doing one thing at a time. This made me feel like I was being selfish, but the more frequently she sucked me the more I discovered how much pleasure she got from doing it.

One night, a week or so after our sex life began to take its oral turn, we went into my bedroom as we normally did after a nice dinner.

After kissing her and then moving down to her neck, I unzipped the simple dress she had on and threw it over the chair. She looked so amazingly hot, just standing there in her very large white bra and very small white panties. She was like a ridiculously digitally enhanced over-the-top version of a lingerie ad -- only real.

I was surprised that she had not taken off her underwear and as I reached around to unhook her bra she stopped me.

"Ed," she said to me softly, now kissing my neck and ear, "Would you mind if I keep my bra on tonight?"

"Sweetie, whatever you want," I replied. Then I added, "But it's not anything I've done wrong, is it?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just, well, being so large-busted I tend to 'knock' around a bit whenever I don't wear a bra. A lot of the time, when I'm wearing a bra that's comfortable, of course, I feel better in one than not.

"Now, I know you love these large ladies and love to play with them -- I love it when you do too -- so I hope you don't feel like I'm denying you anything. Do you?"

"No, of course not," I said. "Whatever makes you happy."

Of course I was disappointed, but then she went on.

"When I was in high school and my breasts were getting so big, I found that I couldn't buy bras that fit in local stores. Since it was just the beginning of the Internet there were no online stores so I purchased from mail order places. After I found a few bras that fit well I'd buy several of those styles at a time. But, the next time I'd order the same model it had been dropped or they couldn't get it anymore, a frustrating experience. Thus began a mini-obsession with bras and bra ownership. In the last couple of years I've found a better selection, but they tend to cost so much more than most women pay for underwear.

"Anyway, I'm boring you. The bottom line is that, if it's OK with you, I often prefer to wear a bra to bed. If you want to touch me or suck on them -- and I do love it when you do -- it's fine if you want to feel me over my bra or push the bra up out of the way, but I don't want you to feel like you shouldn't do that. I just sometimes feel more comfortable with my bra on than off."

Then after a few moments pause she challenged me, "I bet you can't guess how many bras I have."

I was now no longer thinking too clearly as I had removed my clothes and she was using both hands to stroke my cock and balls. "Huh?"

"Go on, guess."

"OK," I said, trying to get some blood to flow back to my brain, "a dozen."

"Not even close," she replied. "I have more than forty bras that I wear regularly!"

Now this got my attention. "You have what? More than forty bras?" I asked her. "I thought you told me a few weeks ago that they're more expensive in your size?"

"Yes, silly," she said, "that's just the point. I buy them whenever there's a sale or some kind of promotion. I wait for those and then I try to get a discount by buying as many of them as I can. Usually large cupped bras like mine are only available in white, beige, or black, but you've seen some of my more colorful and sexier ones. I got all of those on sale."

I looked at her as the three of us got into bed: Simone, her overripe bra, and I. While I'd enjoyed feeling her over the past weeks and removing this extraordinary contraption, I'd never gotten a peek at the label. As I've said, I tried, but never managed to find it when she was out of the room.

"I know how you've wanted to see the labels in my bras," she said to me in a knowing fashion. "It's been common for all the guys I've gone to bed with." She paused for effect. "You're all number obsessed, you know that? How many home runs did this guy hit in 2001? How many total yards of rushing for a season? How many 3-pointers?

"And," pausing again, "what size bra does Simone wear?"

"So, are you ever going to tell me?"

"I don't know. It makes me uncomfortable to be just a number. Once you know that, I become just a notch on your bedpost with a bra size next to it."

I pondered that as her hand took my cock and, after lubing it up between her very wet pussy lips, pushed me inside of her. We were lying on our sides with me behind her. She had two rocking orgasms almost immediately. The first one hit almost as soon as I shoved in all the way.

Then, after easily thrusting for just another minute or so, wham! She had a second. It was so exciting when she would come. She would seem to go to some far away place. Maybe we all do. In some ways I almost felt like I had very little to do with it, but she made it clear in so many other ways that she enjoyed being with me.

When she calmed down a little as I continued to push into her tight pussy, she turned to me and looked at me like she had made a decision.

"Ed," she said after a pause, looking into my eyes, "would you mind if we don't screw anymore tonight? I'd like to suck your great big beautiful cock and have you come in my mouth. Would you mind?"

It's not a very common experience for a woman to say that to me. In fact, I don't think it's a common experience for a woman to say that to most guys. Of course, we know the answer. I mean, who wouldn't? (We may be dumb, but we ain't that dumb.)

"Having given your request a great deal of weighty consideration," I replied, "I've decided grant it."

I laughed, but she briefly had a look of concern on her face.

"You don't think that's weird, do you?"

"Hey, babe, whatever makes you happy. If it feels anything like the blowjobs you've been giving me, often in place of our second fuck of the night, that'd be great."

"Yes!" she replied, unceremoniously popping me out of her pussy, throwing back the covers, and diving down to my groin. Within ten seconds of her affirmative exclamation I was in her mouth. What's to complain?

She plopped me over on my back and crouched between my spread legs, sucking the head slowly in and out of her mouth. With her lips tight over her teeth and her jaw putting so much pressure on my dick, the sensation of going in and out was almost excruciatingly wonderful.

This was a new technique in her repertoire. (Well, as far as I was concerned, it was.) I was consistently surprised by her almost endless introduction of new techniques. Her experience with men must have been larger than I had assumed. Given her physique I could understand why. She must have had her pick of almost any guy she's ever wanted.

This realization was both frightening and extremely hot. Maybe I was just another notch on her bedpost (even though at that point we'd never stayed at her place, I meant that metaphorically, although I do remember a bedpost).

Then again, she might know all sorts of great techniques that she was going to slowly dole out over time. I could spend a long time exploring those with her.

There was also something in one of my fantasy worlds in which she was a commanding (demanding?) woman, one for whom no one man was enough. In this world Simone needed to fuck at least five -- or maybe ten -- men in an evening, maybe with each giving her one or two mouthfuls of semen.

As all of these thoughts went through my brain, Simone was doing such amazing things to my cock that she already had me on the verge of coming. She seemed to always know it too.

She took my dick out of her beautiful mouth just long enough to ask, "You're getting ready to shoot, aren't you?"

She knew I was, of course. I said, "Oh yeah. That feels amazing. I'm going to give you a mouthful."

That was certainly truer with Simone than with any other woman I've known. I seemed to have larger, more forceful orgasms with her than ever in my life. Maybe it was the amazing boobs. Just looking at her for an evening before going to bed never ceased to make me so aroused that by the time we got into bed I was ready to come.

But how do you explain the extra climaxes? I'd normally come twice in a night, sometimes, given enough recovery, three or even four times. Of course in college I'd had crazy nights where I might have come seven or eight times, but that might take place in an entire night of sex.

With Simone I could feel that the orgasms were stronger and I'd have more ejaculations, ones that felt like they lasted minutes. I know that's not possible, but they felt like it.

So, I really sensed that I was about to give Simone a mouthful. She had one hand working on and under my balls and the other strongly and slowly caressing the shaft. Her mouth seemed to have annexed my cockhead and it was now attached to the back with my head rubbing the roof while her tongue played footsies with the underside. She was so good at giving a blowjob that I rarely ever needed to have any stroking done. It was like I completely gave up control to her mouth and she could have whatever she wanted.

Right now she made it clear that she wanted me to come. She began to moan as her mouth appeared to become a sex organ, made as much for her pleasure as for mine. She knew exactly what to do to make me come and she did that now.

I could feel the orgasm building up in my balls and we both knew the train was coming. The next thing I felt was an incredible fast sensation of her tongue underneath the head doing something I can't describe as anything other than, well, "indescribable." 

That was the exact right thing I needed at the moment as the train was pulling into the station (to return to that metaphor of the last paragraph). I shot one or two preliminary volleys as warm ups and then I began to shoot for real.

"Oh, oh," I babbled incoherently as the first shot hit hard against the roof of her mouth. A fraction of a second later this was followed by number two.

Not only was she ready for these, but it seemed that the orgasm made her climax in a more profound way than I'd ever seen. For my next few shots I felt like we were one animal living in a symbiotic relationship. She would give me pleasure. I would give her cum, giving her pleasure. She would give me pleasure. I would give her cum, giving her pleasure. Repeat ad infinitum.

That was so simple, but I almost began to overthink it. Was I being selfish?

Enough thinking for the nonce, though, I cautioned myself. I continued to shoot and she continued to swallow and come. (Doesn't that sound like the name of an ad agency or a PR firm? "Yes, Ms. Jones is represented by the firm of Swallow and Come, a Personal Management Corporation based in Century City, California.")

This went on for an extraordinary thirty seconds or so, being a little more realistic. I knew it couldn't be that long, but it had to be close. It was a little surprising how large her orgasms were and she appeared to have one spasm with every spurt.

Finally, after I came the last time, she pulled her mouth off me, sat up, and began to laugh. This was difficult for her because she apparently still had a large amount of as-yet unswallowed semen in her mouth.

No woman I've ever been with has laughed after giving me a blowjob. (Well, once actually, when I was with this girl in college and I farted a little, much to my embarrassment and chagrin. Definitely a mood changer!)

I was a little unsure why she still had not swallowed the cum in her mouth, but she laughed a few more times and then closed her mouth. I was so wonderfully satisfied that I was having a hard time just trying to remember to breath.

Then she did something that was so sexy. She put a hand under her chin and very slowly let the semen in her mouth dribble down her lower lip, down her chin, and onto her upstretched hand. It was incredible. I'd seen women do this in porn, but never in real life. Plus, I thought the girl in the video was doing it just to satisfy the male audience. What could she get out of such a trick?

Well, in Simone's case it was quite a lot. "I really, truly love cum, Ed. I have to tell you that I am a fanatic when it comes to cum. Feeling you spurt in my mouth makes me come. But tasting your cum gives me an orgasm too.

"I know, you're probably thinking I'm a little weird, right? Well, it's true. But I learned when I was in high school that if I could have an orgasm when I gave a blowjob it made my sex life simple and satisfying. So, tasting semen was like climaxing by eating dessert, just icing -- as it were -- on the cock.

"But you shot so much. It was great. It was so thick. I almost wished I could have seen you come. I almost felt like I had my mouth around a garden hose and that someone turned on the tap. It was so rich and thick. I had a huge orgasm from your cum."

Her eyes twinkling, she smiled happily at me and then slurped up the cum that had pooled in her palm. As she did her shoulders shuddered, her eyes closed in ecstasy, and her body tightened briefly as she appeared to have and-yet-another climax just from tasting my semen anew.

How hot was that!

I was with an amazingly put together woman who loved semen and sucking my cock.

How lucky was I?

There was more to learn.



Deep Secret Ch. 04 - Primetime



"You're thinking about Simone again, aren't you?" Amanda asked me.

My wife had this uncanny way of knowing my thoughts regardless of what I was thinking. She knew me well. She could tell if I was thinking about putting on the winter tires, buying an overly expensive gift for one of the kids, moving money from one investment to another, or, in this case, thinking about Simone.

Of course she knew all about my history with Simone and that there were things about her with which she could never compete. She never even tried. She knew that I loved her, that our relationship was rock solid, and that I never for a moment fantasized about reconnecting with her. She knew I simply had these possibly over inflated and unrealistic memories of my short time with Simone.

As I saw Amanda doze off on the plane seat next to me, my mind began to wander back to Simone -- again. It was inevitable. Fortunately, the fantasies themselves had been diminishing every year of my very successful and happy marriage.

It's simply that on this Hawaiian vacation it had been happening much more frequently.

Just like the blowjobs soon after they began...

The middle of the week following our blowjob-only Saturday night, Simone called and asked if she could come over the next night after my class. Only two or three times had we ever gotten together during the week. With my crazy work and school schedules I could rarely afford to set aside a weekday evening for play.

Of course I told her I'd love to see her. She insisted she just wanted to be with me and if I wanted to play around, great. If I didn't, that was fine, too. She knew that I'd be tired or maybe that I'd want to study. She told me that she understood.

When I got to my front door around 9:15 she had been waiting in her car and ran up to kiss me as I fumbled with and then dropped my keys. She bent down to pick them up, her leather jacket opened, and I could see down her scooped-neck top to the tops of those amazing boobs. It quickly dawned on me that I might not get as much work accomplished tonight as I had hoped.

When we got inside my apartment, I threw down my satchel and went straight to the coffee maker to put on a pot. She took off her short jacket to reveal herself in her standard not-at-work outfit: cute-fitting jeans, a baggy plaid shirt over the aforementioned scooped-neck T-shirt, and lightweight-hiking boots.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?" I asked her, settling into my reading chair next to a piece of furniture that had been in my family for a long time: a mahogany reproduction of an eighteenth century drum table. In this chair was where I did all my reading that didn't require note taking. Generally that meant the first time reading a chapter or an assignment in an economics, quantitative analysis, international law, or business theory class. Once I finished here I generally moved to my desk for a second read.

"Well, Ed," she hesitated as she took off the boots, "I just wanted to see you." She paused, looking at me intently. "And I thought, maybe, we could talk -- a little."

Since it was Thursday night, after my last class for the week, and I had no classes this weekend, I was feeling less pressure than I might usually feel on some other weekday evening. Along with the fact that our friendship had blossomed, I was generally feeling much more horny these days, having never found a woman who enjoyed sucking my cock as much as Simone did -- and was so damn good at it.

In fact I doubted many men had ever found a woman who enjoyed sucking cock as much as she did or was as good at it.

"OK," I said. I got up and went to the kitchen to turn off the newly brewed pot of coffee and pour myself a cup. I had a feeling, though, that my schoolwork was going to have to take the night off. The only work I was going to be doing tonight probably involved semen production. "Can I get you some coffee, a beer, wine, or something?"

"I'll have a glass of red wine, if you have some," she said.

When I returned from the kitchen, she was curled up on the sofa with the blanket around her and her feet tucked under her, her boots carefully placed on the floor. With her short blond hair, twinkling eyes, and adorable smile, she looked as cute as the proverbial button. It would have been impossible to know that under that little down-filled comforter there was a slim and strong, huge boobed, oral sex expert who wanted little more than my cock in her mouth.

"Ed, I've been thinking about our relationship and how we've been spending more time together over the last month or so. That has meant a great deal to me. Aside from a few of the guys I dated since coming to the city before I met you and the people I like at my office, I really don't have many friends here. It's been special to me, I mean, the way we've become more intimate.

"But I wanted to make sure that we're both being honest and upfront about our status and our thoughts about the future."

Boy, this was not what I'd expected when she said she wanted to come over. I thought: a quick intro, a little alcohol, and then my cock would be in her mouth. That was the way things had been going. I liked that. That was what I'd come to expect, spoiled as I had become.

I was not expecting any "relationship" discussion. Psychological significance of statements I'd made or actions I'd taken was the last thing I wanted to discuss. I immediately began to try to figure out if I'd done something bad or said something that might have hurt her. (I knew it wasn't that I'd been looking at other women when we'd been out. No one could hold a candle to her.) Jeez, she couldn't be pregnant. Not with the infrequent fucking we'd done. And she told me she was on the pill anyway.

As all of this was racing around my mind, I tried to find some way of heading off whatever catastrophe might have been cast down upon me by whichever one of the gods I'd pissed off.

"Well, uh," I started forcefully, "sure. Yeah. That's a good idea. Let's talk about the relationship."

This babble just came out of me. I had no desire to talk about anything, especially anything dealing with feelings or interpersonal stuff. Things were good. I was getting it regularly from a totally hot, sexy, unique babe who was sucking me off most nights and all I had to do was to, well... Um, I didn't have to do anything. Sometimes she'd be inclined to have me fuck her or lick her or fuck her tits as long as I came in her mouth.

Generally, though, she'd give me an extraordinary blowjob and these days, more frequently, two blowjobs and then we'd go to sleep. I was happy. She seemed happy. What was bad?

It was that word. Relationship. I wasn't seeing anyone else so it struck me that we were in a relationship. I'd not thought about it before. I guess I had been so busy with work and school and life stuff in general that I just didn't think about anything.

Simone, on the other hand, from what she'd told me worked a lot and she was a hard worker, but it was clerical work mostly. Plus, she ran and worked out diligently. She enjoyed reading. That always struck me as uncharacteristic for someone who'd never attended college.

I knew I was being guilty of making terrible stereotypes, but that's where my mind was at the time. In my company and in school there were no women who could hold even the fleeting idea of a candle to Simone.

"So," I asked in response to her desire to talk about the relationship, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Ed," she began earnestly, "we've been dating for more than a month, right? I think that we're pretty compatible and I really enjoy the time we spend together. I laugh when I'm with you. You challenge me in unique ways because you think about some things differently than I do. All of this makes me feel closer to you.

"I guess I'm saying this stuff because I'm not sure how you feel about me. I mean, I know you like to be with me, or so it seems, but sometimes I feel like your education and my lack of education might be a barrier in our relationship."

My response was rather bland. I said some things that appeared to comfort her and reassure her that I enjoyed being with her. She mentioned that she was looking into taking a class or two at a local community college next semester. This was surprising, but I had learned she was extremely bright even with no classes beyond high school. Maybe taking some classes would give her the confidence to go on for her degree.

Eventually we ended our "talk," though I had a hunch she had more to say. Maybe she was pacing herself and it would continue later.

I moved over to the sofa, held her in my arms and we kissed. It felt good and we fit well together. We turned on the television and some nighttime drama was playing. 

Before we knew it, we were both absorbed in the show.

When a commercial break came on, I put my Tivo in pause mode and we went to the kitchen to get some refills on drinks (well, I decided to can the idea of studying and moved to wine; for her I was getting the refill) and some snacks.

We kidded around about things and laughed a great deal. Returning to the living room we decided that the drama that had initially grabbed us, was now getting boring and I played a sitcom from earlier in the week that I hadn't seen. It was very funny and a little raunchy.

As we were watching it Simone said, "Have you ever had a blowjob while watching this show?"

OK. I wasn't sure where this was going, but I liked the way it looked here at the start.

"To tell you the truth, I don't think I've ever gotten a blowjob while watching a sitcom," I told her honestly after a moment's reflection. "It's not that I'm against concurrent sitcoms and blowjobs; it's just that the situation has never come up." I finished with a knowing nod.

"Well," she said, "let's see how good you are at concentrating on two things at once."

With that minor dare she put down her wine, threw off the blanket, got down on the floor between my legs, unzipped my pants, and pulled out my dick. I was still soft as this had all happened so fast and she took all of me in her mouth.

Then, before I knew what was happening, she put my balls in there too!

That had the effect of getting me very rigid in no time, but as I began to nudge at the back of her throat she gently unclenched her jaw to let my balls out and maintain focus on my cock.

In no time, I was completely erect and mostly in her mouth. She took one hand, grabbed the part of me that was exposed, and very slowly moved her hand in very short up and down movements. These movements were coordinated with her head as she moved it, too, slowly up and down in the same rhythm.

This was something I didn't think she'd ever done before and it was, like every other trick she knew, heavenly.

When I jerk off by myself I tend to start off slowly, but in just a little bit of time, I'm focusing on getting to orgasm. To do that, I like to jerk faster.

With Simone, though, she usually has me coming with slow, sensual, sexy movements that make coming less like a jackhammer and more like a train. When a train is coming down the track it moves inexorably, even a slow moving one. It's going to continue moving regardless of what else is going on. There's no stopping it so you might as well enjoy the ride.

That was often Simone's attack on my cock with her sex act of choice. She could get me to places I'd never imagined just using her mouth, tongue, lips, throat, and throat muscles. If you throw in her deep throating technique, her ability to move her head rapidly - with no teeth ever touching my cock (unless there was some added beneficial stimulation to it) -- up and down, and her uncanny sense of what to do next and when I was ready to ejaculate, she had the sexual technique of Cleopatra and every other fellatrix living or dead combined.

She pulled off of my cock long enough to ask me, "So, what's going on with the girlfriend who got out of bed and left at the beginning of the show?"

"Hunh?" I asked her, completely oblivious to the fact that the TV was even on. "Oh, yeah, I'm supposed to be doing two things at once, aren't I?

"OK, well, uh." I paused to ponder momentarily and then I added, "To tell you the truth, I haven't been watching."

"Well, I can pay attention and I mostly have my eyes closed, my back to the TV -- and a hard, throbbing cock down my throat. So, Mr. Smarty Pants, why can't you?"

"Are daring me?" I asked her.

"I'm just sayin'," she replied and went down again on my dick.

Now I tried to balance the two activities. The show, right there in the near distance, above and just beyond her head, was actually very funny. There were now about half a dozen characters at a dinner party with a lot of surprised looks and awkward conversation. I think it was something from the BBC.

On the other hand, laughing at a sitcom while the world's best cocksucker has you playing "hide the salami" in her throat, is a beautiful and extremely arousing thing to watch. I was in a state of confusion. I wanted to come in her lovely mouth, but I also felt that I needed to stay focused on the show or I would expose some fault or inability to do what she was obviously doing quite well: giving me another of her many unique blowjobs and listening to the show at the same time.

How could she do this?

Deciding that my licentious desires were clearly overriding any shame at my lack of dual focus, I just let her work her magic on my cock completely succumbing to her art.

TV show? What TV show?

"Ooh. That feels wonderful," I moaned as she licked me and fondled my balls using her fingernails to intensify the movements.

"Man, Simone, that feels great. Oh, jeez!" I babbled incoherently.

She was now moaning and her slurping movements were getting louder too. Between the noises from two of us, I was afraid we'd disturb the neighbors. But at that moment, with my impending orgasm right around the corner, who gave a fuck?

Suddenly she came. It surprised me since she usually came when I did or immediately after my first or second spurt of cum. It was such a turn-on to watch her shiver of ecstasy -- and continue to massage my cock with an innate ability since she didn't appear to be of this world at this climactic moment -- that I couldn't hold back even if I wanted to; I came a few seconds later.

The first major shot must have been deep in the back of her mouth and when she felt it hit she appeared to have an even bigger climax than the one just moments before. I heard a high-pitched mewing sound, almost like a kitten, come from somewhere deep in her throat as we both had our orgasms together.

As I kept spurting she slowly inched me out of her throat and, being careful not to put too much pressure on my very sensitive head, pressed the underside of my dick up with her tongue to my cockhead until it was firmly ensconced in the roof of her mouth. 

Way to go, Simone! It felt awesome as I continued to shoot cum into her wonderful mouth.

As we both were coming down from our climaxes she held me in her mouth for a long time, running her tongue over and under my cock along with all of my semen, I think, as I didn't notice her swallow any of it.

Eventually I was soft again and she let me slip from her mouth. She opened her mouth to show me the pool of semen that was there. She then rinsed it around her mouth like mouthwash. When she opened her mouth again it was all bubbly like incorrectly opening a bottle of champagne where it gushes up and over the bottle top and down the sides. I could even smell the aroma of semen from a foot or two away and I saw her take a deep breath. As she inhaled she seemed to induce another climax, just from the taste and smell of the semen in her mouth. She closed her eyes and swallowed it.

How her oral cavity, pharynx, and her sense of smell and taste were intertwined with her center of sexual pleasure never ceased to amaze me!

Slowly she opened her eyes and a large, beautiful smile appeared on her happy face. It was like the pretty woman in a TV commercial who is enjoying a relaxing bath. That was my content Simone.

"So how did it end?" she asked me, licking her heavenly lips.

"Oh, man, it felt great. You seemed to enjoy yourself too, of course. Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked her. I knew her answer would be "no" since it almost always was, but I wanted to be a gentleman.

"No, silly," she said, looking at me askance, "I mean the sitcom. What happened after the dinner party?"

Oops. I'd completely forgotten that the TV was on, much less what was on it or that I had been challenged to concentrate on the orgasm and the TV simultaneously.

"I must confess, I tend to have a one track mind when it comes to coming," I quickly tried to think of something witty or in some way explain how I could only focus on sex if I wanted to come. It didn't think I was very convincing, though.

"I can't explain it. When you do those things to my dick, I am completely at your mercy. I can't think of anything else or do anything else. You're the most amazing, sexy, beautiful woman I've ever known."

"Well, you're surely saying the right things, but you lost this round," she stated. "I'll tell you when we get into bed what happened after the dinner party, you dork. Do you even remember the name of the show?"

"Um, what show?" I said.

She chuckled and swatted my butt as we headed off to the bedroom.

"Maybe you'd like to watch some porn while I give you a blowjob next time we're on the sofa. I'd bet you could do a better job of concentrating on two things at once that way. I'll bet you could come while a cock comes on some pretty lady's tongue or face. How would that be?"

"Did I tell you lately how much I think you're terrific?" I asked her.

"Not enough," she kidded me as we got undressed. I stared at that sexy bra with its underwires made for super large grapefruits. "But maybe that's something you could rectify while I work on getting you to give me some more semen."

Between ogling her delicious body and hearing her tell me that she wanted to suck me again, my cock was already stirring.

It was the next night and the following Saturday at the gym that I thought seriously about our conversation of earlier this evening and my life got a bit more complicated. 



Deep Secret Ch. 05 - Torpedoes



"I have some more stuff to talk with you about," Simone said quietly as she lay next to me in bed. After sucking me off in the living room while I was attempting, but failing miserably, to watch television, we came to bed. Over the course of the next hour-and-a-half she gave me two more blowjobs.

I didn't think I'd come that often in such a short amount of time in years. Of course, her incredible body and her indescribable oral techniques could probably raise the dead!

Ooh. Bad images. I didn't mean to go there.

Well, you get the picture.

So, we were spooning in bed, it was close to 1:00 AM, and we both had work tomorrow. She was fortunate because she worked much closer than I did and her job required her to be there 45 minutes later than mine.

"It was good to talk tonight," I told her, feeling exceptionally close to her on an emotional level that was relatively unfamiliar territory for me. Plus, on a physical level I had my arms wrapped around her rather thin rib cage holding a portion of her left breast with my right hand and a portion of her right breast with my left. They were so large that I couldn't contain one with both hands.

For now, though, there was a certain comfort in feeling the taut, smooth skin of her back and backside against me, smelling a little of her perfumed neck, and resting my weary cock against the back of her cute butt. In a word: heaven.

As I started to drift off to a well deserved sleep with black and white images of a solo Ginger Rogers singing and dancing "Heaven. I'm in heaven..." (You're asking where was Astaire, right? Well, it was my sleepiness that was causing this euphoria, not yours! If I wanted Fred to be with Ginger -- and that was my prerogative -- my sleepy state just had me focused on Ginger's gams!), she asked, "Could we have dinner again tonight?"

Having had three extraordinary orgasms in her lovely smiling mouth tonight I would probably had said yes to having dinner with her in Lyon, France, at one of the world's finest restaurants if that was what she wanted.

"Sure," I said, half-awake, "how about that little place across from the gym. I need to get a workout in after work 'cause I know I won't be able to do it in the morning. How about you?"

"Yeah, I don't think I'll get there in the morning either. That sounds great."

That settled, we drifted off to sleep. The last thing I remember was her putting her hands over mine and pushing them firmly against her breasts.

I said it before, but I'll say it again: Heaven.

# # #

Because she had more time than I in the morning and there was a late October rain drenching the city, she opted not to go for an early run and, while I hopped in the shower, she went into the kitchen to take care of juice, coffee, and something light to eat.

She was in a pair of sweats as I walked in putting on my tie. There was a glass of orange juice on the kitchen table, a pot of very dark coffee that smelled wonderful like a full-bodied, medium-dark roasted Kona, and some dry whole wheat bread, lightly toasted -- just the way I like it.

In a couple of minutes I'd scarfed everything down. Looking out the window at the thermometer and seeing it hovering around 40 degrees Fahrenheit or 4 Celsius I was seriously thinking about calling in sick. I was in a terrific smelling kitchen. I was clean, warm, and dry. There was a baroque oboe concerto on the radio (Was it by Albinoni?) and I had a delicious cup of black coffee in my hand.

Throw in the fact that there was this bright, adorable, funny, and charming young woman here who asked for so little from me, and why would I ever want to leave? I felt like Eliza Doolittle in that "room somewhere." Yes, it would be "loverly."

As I mused on the pros and cons of calling in sick and what I had to do at the office today, Simone said, "You know, maybe you need a nice quickie to get you off to a good start this morning. I've always felt that a quickie helps me get my day off perfectly...."

She paused for a second as I tried to change gears, thinking about what time it was.

"With all the pressure you have now with work and school, maybe you need to take a few minutes for a quickie blowjob in the morning before heading off to work. How does that sound?"

I let that sink in -- for about 7 milliseconds. I then stood up to unzip my trousers. (Did I really call them "trousers?" Who says "trousers?" Funny word.) Simone waved me over to her and before I knew it she was slowly massaging my cock with one hand, caressing my balls with the other, and sucking on my head with such force I was sure it would detach from the rest of my dick. She seemed to be trying to siphon out my cum!

Nevertheless, I had to hand it to her, whatever she was doing (whatever she always did, it seemed) she had me hard as a rock and extremely excited in three or four minutes. In five I was ready to come.

"Oh," she moaned, jerking me now, directly aiming onto her tongue which was licking around my head, "come on, baby, give me a mouthful. I need it, Ed, I really, really need it."

Phrased that way, it would be rude of me to deny her the requested mouthful. Even though I was a little sore from the previous night's three blowjobs I somehow managed to feel a strong climax coming on and she knew it.

She increased the pace of her jerking movements. Simone always knew what she was doing. I mean, most guys probably get pretty used to knowing how best to masturbate, but she was better at jerking me off than I was! How was that even possible?

Before I knew it, I was almost screaming obscenities of pleasure as I could see spurt after spurt of extremely thick semen shoot up onto the roof of her mouth and then drop down onto her outstretched tongue. I never remembered coming that thickly, but I generally don't notice too often. Regardless, I was very pleased with what I could see, both the quantity and the quality of the cum -- in addition to the same features (i.e., quality and quantity) of the orgasm and its depth.

Simone again had seemed to know that I was about to climax and she went into orgasm mode at the exact second my first major shot went airborne. Her body trembled, but she remained focused on getting me to my happy place. It was pretty neat how I could see her unencumbered breasts, under her extra large long sleeve T-shirt moving the material in a delightful, jiggling fashion. I could even see her erect nipples occasionally poking at the thin cotton. That contributed to my orgasm and seemed to make it last longer too.

Eventually, we both came down from the plateau in the stratosphere and I rested one hand on the back of her chair.

"Wow," she said, after swallowing her mouthful, "that was great. Your cum was so rich and thick and creamy. Who needs food or even dessert when there's cum that tastes so good right here?"

With the emphasis on here she shook my rapidly shrinking cock and then swabbed the head a while longer with her tongue and lips to get any semen that had not made it all the way out.

She now looked happy and relaxed, like she'd just had a massage. It made me wonder if there were males who catered to women looking for "happy endings" during a massage.

The sound of my zipper quickly snapped me out of my new career goal ideation and I realized that she had put me away, tucked me in, straightened my tie and was handing me my briefcase. She was very efficient.

On my way out the door I said, "That was terrific. We should do that every morning."

She smiled and said, "I'll see you at the gym after work, OK?"

"Sounds like a plan," I said and pressed the elevator button. I thought about walking down the stairs, but I had a hard-on already and it would have been too uncomfortable in my delicate state.

Simone could do that to you.

# # #

In the month or so that we'd been seeing one another I'd gotten used to men and even women ogling her. She was tall, slender, had enormous jugs that one had a hard time imagining could be real, especially given her slim frame, short blond hair, crystal blue-green eyes, and an adorable smile. Who wouldn't stare?

There were several things that made her a little different and that threw off many of those with their preconceptions about her. Judging her by her cover was not in any way doing justice to the book that was Simone.

First, there was her lack of guile or even any sort of game playing. It wasn't that she was "in your face," it was that she didn't suffer fools for long or lightly. Over the years she'd obviously gotten used to the staring, but she drew the line at rude behavior and often managed to have something funny to say to people that made them feel at the very least awkward.

The other thing was her intelligence that I thought was really starting to blossom at that time into a new thirst for education. She told me she'd always been a reader, but with only a high school education she felt like the proverbial kid from the other side of the tracks. She just needed some more confidence in her abilities and I knew she could attain whatever goals she might set for herself. The plan she mentioned the other night about beginning to take classes at the community college would be great.

It was now Friday evening. We'd met at the gym, had our workouts, showered, and walked across the street to the restaurant, a small, simple but romantic Italian place with some lighter northern Italian fare in addition to the more traditional heavy red or cream sauce dishes.

The dinner conversation was aimless yet warm as we ate and drank a bottle of a relatively inexpensive Barolo (well, as "relatively inexpensive" as a Barolo can be) that complemented the meal perfectly.

Simone looked terrific, her blond hair and smiling eyes sparkling in the candlelight, in a greenish-grey (She called it "jade," but I'm color-termed challenged!), V-neck cardigan over a long sleeve tank top. Surprising to me was that this was atop a relatively short black skirt and not her usual jeans. But it wasn't until she got up to go to the ladies room that I noticed her long, lean charcoal stockinged legs were encased in a pair of black leather boots that began just below her knees and ended in stiletto heels. (No wonder she'd seemed even taller than usual on the walk from the gym.) Even with her pretty but conservative outfit she still managed to make most heads turn in her direction, both going and returning from the lavatory.

As she sat down again her gold necklace sparkled in the candlelight too, but when the little heart-shaped pendant flopped out and then back between the tops of those two magnificent breasts I became envious. Though it took me a moment or two before I could refocus on our discussion, I managed to forget about the hard-on in my shorts and return to our postprandial conversation.

"Ed," she began after the table was cleared. We were sipping on the last of the Barolo and perusing the dessert menus. "In the last few years I've moved a couple of times. Stable relationships have not been my strong suit."

She said this with a tad of sarcasm, but it was clear this was coming from a candid and serious place.

"There's some stuff I just can't talk about, but I'd like to be honest with you about myself. You see, though it's only been a month or two, I've begun to have strong feelings for you.

"Now, I don't want to scare you off and I know you've got so much going on in your life that the last thing you need is a little bit nutty and uneducated girl -- me -- putting even more pressure on you. So, please understand that this is just in the interest of honesty in our friendship, OK?"

I agreed. While my hard-on had become a soft-off, there was another part of me, a place in my soul that actually touched me. She had actually touched me. I guess it was typical of me (you know, the y-chromosome must cause it) to emotionally disregard most of the feelings I'd developed towards her and mainly just connected with the adorable, sexy, and extraordinarily sexual babe.

"Well," I said, "Simone, I appreciate your desire for candor. I'm not very good at talking about my feelings, but I'll do my best to be as open with you as I can."

"Thanks," she responded, "I really appreciate it.

"Some of what I'm going to tell you may make you go running for the exits!" Then, after a pause, she began again.

"Ed, let me ask you how many women you've been with," she said to me bluntly. "I mean, you're in your late twenties, successful, you've gone to college, you've been in the corporate world for six or seven years. You've traveled a bit.

"I know we've never really talked about it, but if I asked you with how many women you've been intimate would it be under ten, between ten and twenty-five, over fifty?"

"I, uh, um" I responded, somewhat aghast. I'd been with a good number of women I figured, but fifty? Not even in my wildest dreams! What was "a good number" anyway? Was it five, ten, twenty? I did a quick count and my total was probably two dozen -- thirty tops, especially if you include some of my crazy college years, polluted by a prior pal with a proclivity for potent pot.

I suddenly felt a tiny, but distinct chill accompanied by a commensurate excitement. Was she going to tell me that I was only the second or third man she'd been with? Or, was she, on the other hand, going to tell me that she was way up in the two or three digit (It couldn't be four, could it?) category?

Just considering that, grossed me out about her, made me feel a tad less significant in the manhood department, and simultaneously turned me on.

Who said men are simple? We may be childish, but we occasionally rise above "simple."

"I'd rather not say specifically, but it's probably between twenty and thirty," I finally answered her. "In college I dated a lot of different women, but in the last five or six years I've had an average of one or two steady girlfriends each year. I'm not necessarily looking to sleep with every woman I meet. At some point, when my career settles down and I'm done with school I'd like to find 'the one' and get married, have kids. You know."

She eyed me for a few moments, seemingly pondering what to say. To my surprise she appeared to change the subject.

"Ed, my mom died in an accident when I was a very little girl. I don't have any memories of her, just some photos from before I was born. My aunt helped my dad raise me for a while but then she moved away. Dad was good to me, but distant. After a while he began traveling for business. A neighbor or two stopped by every so often, but I was alone most of the time. When my dad was around he seemed always to be depressed or lonely and consistently laconic."

She stopped, thinking about things. I was thinking about how depressed this conversation was making me.

"Well, this conversation has really raised my spirits. Thanks so much," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Oh waiter, one kabob skewer, please. I don't need a plate, just shove it in my eye."

Finally, I got a little smile out of her and even a chuckle.

"OK, OK," she said, "you don't want to discuss this. I get it."

"No, it's not that," but of course, it was that. I didn't want to discuss it. Was I crazy? I just wanted to go back to my place and let her have her way with me.

"You probably just want to have sex, don't you?" she asked me.

"Du-uh!" I answered. "You're the sexiest, most beautiful woman I've ever known. You make me laugh. And I think you underrate yourself because you've never gone to college. You may not have a degree but you're so bright and well read. I'll bet you're smarter than 99% of the people in my MBA program. I'm glad you're looking into taking some classes."

By the shine in her lovely blue-green eyes, it was clear she liked everything I said. After a moment, though, she turned serious.

"Ed, sometimes I think my breasts are like a binary star system. It's like they even have their own gravitational field."

That made me smile and laugh. I was glad to see her lighten up.

"One of the things I'm trying to say, but just can't seem to get out is that, though I know I'm pretty young, I've had a lot of things happen in my life. I had no real female role model. I learned about sex from health class, a boyfriend, a girlfriend (no, not that way), and some of my dad's porn. Generally, though, I grew up alone and didn't learn too much about the world, bad people, good people, or anything. My body just began developing in grade school and by the time I graduated high school I had the biggest bust around.

"Do you know that Steve Martin movie Roxanne, the one that's based on the play by Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac? Remember the scene in the bar where he gets challenged to come up with a bunch of gags about his ridiculously long nose?

"Well, sometimes I feel like him. A freak. With my figure, I can get all the attention in a room, but it's not who I am. It's my outside; it has nothing to do with me, what I think, feel, care about, or even my sexuality.

"It's really hard to explain," she said, pausing to rearrange the little flowers in the tiny vase next to the table's candle.

"Anyway, back to Roxanne: I can probably name at least a half-dozen names for boobs starting with any letter you give me in five seconds flat. (No pun intended!)"

This conversation, though of humble beginnings, was now moving into the area of the Simone I knew, the one that made me happy.

"All right, let's start at the beginning: A," I said.

And with that, in less time than a seasoned professional -- like myself, can unhook a bra, she said, "Airbags, alps, amazons, artichokes, avocados, and apples.

"Fruit and vegetables are pretty common. I get those a lot!" she added, smiling.

"OK, B"

"Balloons, bongos, bra busters, B-52s, Baskin & Robbins, and Ben & Jerrys. That was easy." She took a sip of water as I stared at her graceful and talented throat, wondering how far I'd actually gone down it. And, then I wondered how many others had...

"Here's a few more," she continued, setting down the glass, "while we're on the 'B's: Bra stuffers, bazongas, bazookas, bazzumes, Betty & Veronica, boobs and boobies."

I was very impressed -- and laughed so hard I almost peed in my pants.

"C" I said.

"Cans, cannon balls, casabas, cowabungas, cantaloupes, chi-chis, chesticles, and coconuts," she spit out in about three seconds.

She'd gotten a little loud and with my laughter we had most of the restaurant looking at us like we were nuts. The waiter came over and asked if everything was OK. We decided to forgo dessert, but ordered two espressos just to get our mini-hysteria under control.

"Ed, I've heard them all. Sometimes men or women will say them looking at me unable to help themselves. Other times they'll whisper to their neighbors, under their breath.

"I've seen a man turn to his wife, say something like 'Did you see the rack on that?' only to get whacked upside the head with the wife's handbag. When you're built like I am you have to brace yourself for some of the rudest and oddest behavior.

"I saw a guy drive off the road while I was out running one day. Fortunately, he wasn't injured and didn't hurt anyone. Having large breasts is one thing. But, having breasts like mine is a strange phenomenon. Everyone assumes you've had them done and that you did it to be in show biz, adult entertainment, porn, whatever. Few people, at least initially, think you're a real person."

The espressos arrived and I sipped mine straight as she rubbed some lemon rind on the rim of hers, then tore it slightly and dropped it in the hot, black aromatic drink.

"So, at some point when I was nineteen, I started hanging around with a group of 'older' guys in my hick town. They were mostly in their twenties, no college, just like me, nor direction, ditto.




Deep Secret Ch. 05 - Torpedoes



"They drank, did some drugs, mainly pot, worked construction or whatever they could find.

"And me, well, I had a barely above minimum wage job, but it was steady and I did it well. I enjoyed partying with them on the weekends." She paused to stare into her demitasse.

"For a few weeks I dated one of them, then I dated another, then another. Eventually I became the group girlfriend -- and then, well, I guess I also became the entertainment.

"I enjoyed sex, but, as you know, I love sucking cock and cum. So, one night we were sitting around the house two of them rented. There must have been about ten of us, but just two girls, this girl Jamie who graduated high school a year before I did and me.

"We were watching some dumb movie and drinking beer. A bunch of guys go into a strip club and there are these topless dancers. One of my friends says something about how none of those women can even compete with me and how they're all fake, but I'm the real McCoy.

"So, of course, everyone agrees with him and they're talking about how great it would be if I did a strip tease for them. I laughed and made some wise-ass comment.

"Fortunately, some cops come into the club (in the movie) and the tension in the living room relaxed. But, I have to tell you, the idea of stripping for these guys and then having all of them jerk off for me just popped into my head.

"At first it really scared me, but then I thought -- as any cocky nineteen-year-old would -- I could control these guys. I could probably make them do whatever I wanted. I'd sucked almost all of them, though this was before I got really good at deep throating. Nevertheless, I still gave great head since it got me off too.

"Anyway, there was this scene where this woman is in bed with this guy and she kisses his chest. Then she moves her way down to his shorts. Of course, since it was just a regular movie, they cut away and had a little video montage with a hard, kicking score.

"But even with the music there was this slightly awkward silence in the room. Then one of the guys just says, 'Hey, Simone, if you're not gonna strip for us, why don't you just give us all blowjobs? Well, Jamie, you could help, too.'"

She picked up her espresso and finished almost all of it.

"Yeah," I said to her, glancing at her demitasse cup, "I don't drink the dregs either."

"No, it's not that," she told me. "Remember, the half percent. I almost always leave it. I think of it as sort of a rainy day fund."

Thinking that this one another of her crazy parts and remembering that she had told me this before, I asked her, "Do you want another?" She nodded and I motioned for two more to the waiter.

I wanted to say something to her since I don't think I'd ever seen her this emotionally bare, but I had no idea how to say anything that would comfort her. In fact, I wasn't even sure if she needed it. She was just recalling a life experience in a very dry manner, though from some place deep inside.

"This movie sucks anyway," she said, continuing with her recollection. "Why don't we?"

She proceeded to tell me how she and Jamie were sitting on a love seat and how all the guys practically jumped up, pulled out their dicks, and stuck them in the two girls' faces. Simone had four or five and Jamie had three, with one guy kind of rubbing his cock on the face of whichever of the two girls he could reach.

"As the stupid film kept playing, I just loved looking at these dicks all around me," she said. "The guys were all horny, just like I was. In fact, it was so exciting, just seeing and sucking those hard dicks and thinking about all the cum I was going to get to taste."

She stopped and looked straight into my eyes. I almost had to turn away. I was so unsure of my own feelings. As I said, I was really shocked to think she had been that much of a slut. But, I also was so turned on by her story -- her true story -- that I thought I'd come in my pants just listening to her tell it.

Then I was also confused by her rather sterile delivery of a very erotic -- to me, at least -- event.

"You're really grossed out by this, aren't you?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," she went on, "but I don't want you to think I'm something that I'm not. I told you I have some stuff that I can't tell you, but I want you to know that I had a few years where things were pretty rough."

"No," I said, "I'm not grossed out. It's part of what makes you who you are." I paused. "I have to admit that I am confused and I'm not sure exactly how I feel about this. It's one thing to see some girl in a video suck off a bunch of guys, but it's another to date someone who's done it just like that."

Clearly I was not saying anything supportive, but I didn't know what I was even thinking. I did know that I had the hard-on that was halfway down to my knees and leaking through my boxers and onto my jeans.

"Well, it wasn't that they forced me to do anything. I wanted to. It was such a turn on. When the first guy started to come I was sucking another cock so the first guy's first shot hit me on one side of my face. I immediately grabbed the comer's cock and made sure all the rest of his come went straight into my mouth.

"I put my head back a little to keep my mouth open because the second guy started to come while the first one was still shooting. It was the first time I'd ever had two guys shooting cum into my mouth concurrently. As a huge orgasm hit my clit, it made every muscle in my body tighten. I sat up a little straighter and clenched my legs together slightly. That made one or two of the others standing wall-to-wall in front of me move a little, but hearing my orgasmic cry through my cum filled mouth was too much for them and just as the first two finished coming, the next three began almost simultaneously.

"There were moans of pleasure sounding from somewhere inside my chest, but I could hardly hear it over the grunts of the guys, all of whom had left Jamie and seemed to line up to give me their cum. Later I learned that she told them she wasn't that interested in having them come in her mouth, but I didn't hear anything but their and my own orgasmic noises.

"Every so often I'd stop to swallow, but mostly I just kept my mouth open wide with my tongue lapping at the nearest cock. I was almost completely disinterested in the guy and, after a while, even the cock. I just wanted it to give up its white juice."

She stopped again, to reassess my reaction. I was pretty numb. I knew all of this happened several years ago. When I thought about it, the way she told it, it was so exciting, I was almost sure there was more than just precum dripping inside my jeans.

"Anyway, that was my first time with all those guys together. Jamie wanted what most women want. She wanted to get laid. So after all eight of them came in my mouth and I managed to look in a mirror over the mantle to find and scoop up as much extra cum that had missed my mouth, they all fucked her. It was exciting to watch. Most of them came inside her, but a few pulled out, waddled over to me and gave me a second load.

"In all I had about a dozen loads of semen that night. I went home a very happy young woman."

"Simone," I said, "I'm not sure what I'm feeling about this. I'm a little confused, but that was then and you and I are here now. I have such a hard-on that if you even show so much as one more millimeter of cleavage or tell me about sucking another cock I'll lose it all in my jeans."

"Hey," she said, "as long as it hasn't all dried by the time we get back to your place, I'm sure I can still find some tasty morsels in your jeans. But I think you'd rather come in my warm and wet mouth while I lick you with --

I shoved my hand across the table and over her mouth. "I mean it, no more. I don't want to come now. If we can pay this damn check and get out of here we can be back at my place in less than ten minutes. I just hope I can last until then."

"OK. I think it's a shame that neither of us drove or I could suck you right now in your car.

"Ooh, I know: Wouldn't it be a turn-on if I could just kneel down in an alleyway and you could come in my mouth? Then I could hold it there until we get back to your place and you could come on top of what's already there?"

"No fair," I said as I threw down more than enough cash to cover the as yet unproffered bill, and we left the restaurant.

I made a point of not looking at her until she had her body bundled up in her coat against the cool October night air.

"That was a great meal," I said, "Mm."

"OK, M," she replied, "Mamas, maracas, melons, milk jugs, money makers, mounds, mountains and just plain mams."

She had me there. My guffaw took the edge off and I knew I would make it home without coming in my pants.

"Simone," I said with a chuckle, "you do make me laugh. But I have to admit that you're really a tease."

"T, huh? What about, um, Tetons, Torpedoes, Tooters, Twin Peaks, Tympanies, Titties, Tamales, Tatas.



Deep Secret Ch. 06 - Harry



"I want to suck your cock the minute we get home," my wife Amanda whispered to me in the cab from the airport as we neared home. "Let's throw everything down in the foyer, leave a trail of clothes up the stairs, hop into the shower, and then you stick that stick of yours into my mouth the minute we get into bed."

This was a good plan. I was one hundred percent behind this plan. It had clear start and end points. It was concise. There were milestones, few subtasks, the resources were available, and the kids were at my mother's until we were to go pick them up tomorrow.

Yes, Amanda had a plan. (What was that palindrome about the Panama Canal? Oh, yeah, "A man, a plan, a canal, Panama!") It was a good plan, too.

However, the unfortunate reality was that this was a frequent refrain with Amanda upon arriving home from a vacation. I'd tried to figure out why she always wanted to give me blowjobs after getting home from vacations. Were taxis an oral aphrodisiac? No, that could never be it.

Yet, somehow these wonderful plans were rarely implemented -- though there were neither budgetary nor time constraints. Once we got home, the phone rang, messages had to be culled through, the neighbor would stop by with some complaint, the mail, who knows what. Regardless, Amanda, as I said, had tempted me too often with similar conceptual ideas that just never saw the light of day. Hence, for some time now I rarely permitted myself to get my hopes, much less my cock, up.

"Yeah, sweetie," I whispered softly to her, lightly caressing her thigh, pulling her tightly to me, "that sounds scrumptious. I can't wait. You know me: always up for a blowjob!"

We opened the front door, threw down the bags, stripped on the way upstairs, and hopped into the shower, where we fondled each other lasciviously. She went to her dressing table to do whatever it is women do at their dressing tables. I combed my balding pate and put on a little deodorant and even some aftershave. (You see, I was still hoping it would happen this time.) When I walked into the bedroom, Amanda was under the covers with a towel wrapped around her head and one bare leg sticking out. She was sexy. She was adorable.

She was also fast asleep.

I was really glad I'd been there and done that -- or in this case, not done that -- before or I would have been disappointed.

My memories of that night, after Simone and I left the restaurant flooded back into my brain as I turned out the light and climbed into bed next to Amanda's warm, smooth flesh.

It had been only a walk of a few blocks from the restaurant to my place, but the night became colder with every step. Neither of us was dressed for the sudden turn in the weather and we were both elated to enter the building's warm foyer. It wasn't late, but still the place was empty and silent. My building had quite a few older tenants who seemed to be nestled in for the night after seven o'clock.

By the time we'd walked into the elevator and I'd pushed the button for my floor, Simone had unzipped my fly, knelt down, and was sucking on my cock. Part of me was afraid of the consequences of someone getting on, but I figured that the chances were low and it was an easy activity to stop quickly. In addition, the slowing of the elevator approaching a floor would give at least a second or two warning, right?

And after the evening's dinner conversation, her warm, wet mouth felt so damn good, I was just about ready to shoot my load. Hence, I really didn't give a damn about the friggin' consequences.

Simone was always one to surprise me somehow, often in some small way, but to surprise me nonetheless. Tonight was no different. As we approached my floor she quickly stopped sucking on my now maximally hard dick. Rather than picking up her gym bag and getting ready to deelevator (If they can call getting off a plane, deplaning, one can call getting off an elevator, deelevatoring!), she spun around and flipped up her skirt. To my surprise -- and delight -- her stockings ended at mid-thigh. Said stockings were held up by a pair of black garters on each leg, attached to a lavender garter belt. Between the top of the stockings and the garter belt, I was staring at her lovely, firm, and very naked butt.

She spread her legs, grabbed my cock, and backed up, onto me, slowly pressing me into her wet pussy. Back and back she pressed in and out to bathe my dick with her juices, millimeter by millimeter until her smooth, naked flesh was tightly against my fly. The zipper was hitting me at an angle that hurt momentarily, but there are times when a man's got to be a man and disregard discomfort, for the betterment of human sexual contentment everywhere.

You betcha!

You'll have to forgive my lack of making any sense whatsoever because fucking Simone had become a pretty rare occurrence and I'd forgotten how good it felt. It was not in the same league of pleasure as one of her probably patented blowjobs, but it did feel pretty fuckin' great.

She backed off and then on and repeated the process one more time. That appeared to give her a green light for her first orgasm of the evening. Her small scream surprised both of us, but orgasms do that to you sometimes, especially when you least expect them. As she just stayed relatively still, relishing the moment and I was enjoying the view of her beautiful round flawless buttocks along with her feminine perfume, the door opened on my floor.

It was fortunate that no one was there. After a few moments of Simone still enjoying her climax, she moved in and out just a little to milk everything she could out of her sexual pleasure. By now the door had closed, but the elevator just stayed there since clearly no one had pressed a button anywhere else in the building.

Throwing caution to the wind, I began to press deep into her and then pull out until I realized that we were fucking, full speed ahead right there in the elevator. I grabbed her hips and was humping her like an animal. It was great. She moaned on every stroke and it felt so good there was no way I was not going to join her for my first orgasm of the evening and for her, yet another.

She had now bent over most of the way to the floor, resting her hands on her bag. I had never even thought about her flexibility before, but she was either very flexible or very good at not feeling discomfort while getting fucked.

We kept this up and probably got louder for quite a few more minutes, but it was so intense that the impending climaxes were not far off.

Then, just as we were both what felt like just seconds away from that ultimate moment, the elevator began to move upward.

This was not a good sign. I lived pretty close to the top of the building so there were only three or four floors above us and the elevator was obviously nearing its destination.

So were we.

At first I thought she'd just stop and I'd cover myself with my coat and/or bag of gym stuff, but Simone was in another world. She was so focused on that next inexorable orgasm that her hips were virtually fucking me as though I could have just stood there and not moved a muscle.

The last thing I wanted to do was to deprive her of her pleasure, but I needed to live here and, though I'd not seen it in the lease, I doubted screwing in the elevator was any more permissible than screwing with the elevator.

Just as we were about to stop at the top floor, I felt that climax start deep inside me and knew I was incapable of doing anything about it. Simone was almost whimpering now, her pleasure so obvious from the shivers that seemed to rush with each thrust through her delicate back.

Apparently she felt that I was about to deliver my orgasm deep inside her and drove her butt hard against me so she could feel my cock shoot.

Then, just as it appeared the elevator was going to arrive at the top floor, she did something that gave me even more respect for her multitalented brain: She simultaneously cried loudly and hit the elevator's ALARM and STOP buttons at the same time.

The elevator stopped dead. The loud bell, like a fire alarm, went off in the elevator and seemed to sound from somewhere way below us, too. All of our noises were drowned out by the alarm; it was that loud.

I think it was the first time I ever could say that my orgasm was so intense I could hear bells!

We both came for ten or fifteen seconds of deafening alarm noise, especially loud given the quiet calm that had pervaded the building not more than a few moments before.

My orgasm eventually slowed as my semen pooled somewhere inside of her. She had an apparent other worldly orgasm caused by mine.

And, except for the fact that the damn bell was so fucking annoying, we'd both come and no one was yet the wiser -- in the elevator, no less.

When it was time for us to call it (as in "time of death" in a hospital TV show), Simone reached into her bag, pulled out some perfume and sprayed enough on her neck to cover most of the man- and woman-made scents that until then had permeated the small cabin.

I unpressed both buttons and quickly shoved my now exposed cock into my pants. Concurrently, Simone dropped her skirt, making sure everything was adjusted, just as the door opened and Mrs. Milford was standing there with Harry, her Great Dane.

"Are you two OK?" she asked us, seemingly very concerned about the alarm. Behind her, several others from her floor had come out to see what the commotion was.

"Oh, yeah," I told her, "the elevator didn't stop on my floor and just kept going. My friend Simone here was concerned that we were going to the roof and panicked a little. In trying to hit the stop button, she hit the alarm. We're fine."

"Well, that's good. I was concerned that someone had been attacked or there had been an accident." Mrs. Milford said.

"One must always be vigilant," she added, "especially when getting off."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Simone said to her, sincerely trying to allay her concerns, but still managing to smile and wink at me surreptitiously -- and to keep a straight face given Mrs. Milford's similarly wonderful straight line. It was very impressive, but I could see the mischievous twinkle in those beautiful baby blues of hers.

It was all I could do not to add something like, "Yes, I always keep my eyes open when getting off."

We deelevatored on my floor and, fortunately, things were quiet.

As I got out my key, Simone said, "That was quite a ride. I feel so much more secure in the knowledge that you'll be especially vigilant when getting off!"

"Ha, ha," I laughed facetiously. "That was a wonderful and unexpected fuck. Part of me was scared shitless that we'd be discovered screwing in the elevator and part of me was just loving your tight, wet pussy. I think I began to forget the first part as I started to come."

"Yeah, well, I had your back," she began. "Well, I mean you had my back, but... Um. You know what I mean. I figured if the alarm were a loud one no one would hear us coming.

"Hey," she said as I locked the door behind us, "that was the first time I've ever gotten shagged in a shaft."

"You mean, you got the shaft in the shaft, don't you?" I asked her.

The joking lasted another five, maybe ten seconds before we dropped everything on the floor and went straight for the bedroom. Fifteen seconds more and she was resuscitating my dick with her tongue.



Deep Secret Ch. 07 - Requests



If there had been a contest at that moment for couples maximally using their sensory organs we would have won, hands down. My brain was awash in four of the five, each one a delight: physical, visual, olfactory, and aural. Simone was taking care of the other (homophonic) oral.

Her mammoth breasts were swaying along the inside of both my thighs. It was a pleasure to feel their slight tickle that only served to enhance the sexual intensity of my cock in her mouth. What was an added bonus was that from this angle I could see her by looking down my body lying on the bed, but also by looking at the mirror that was standing nearby. With the light from the bedroom lamp I could watch her mouth swooping down on my cock and the wonderful movements of those beautiful pendulous breasts.

To be honest, I should say that Simone's figure was not freakish. I may be overstating her look. Yes, she had amazingly large, natural breasts. Yes, she had a slim, strong, and taut physique. Yes, she was pretty tall for a woman, but not anything outrageous. So, when I call her breasts "mammoth" or "huge" I mean that compared to most other women with her slender, graceful body type, her breasts were definitely outliers in a standard deviation curve. I just wanted to get that out in the open, lest a reader might think she looked like an exotic dancer who'd had way too many enhancements. Simone, on the other hand, was graced with naturally large and, as most would agree, out-of-proportion breasts. With all the other women I'd known their breasts were just a part of their torsos. What continued to be so surprising to me was how often, when we were intimate, her breasts seemed like an additional element in between us. 

I just wanted to get that off my chest. Back to the story.

Throw in the scent of her perfume -- recently reapplied to conceal our vivid individual odors just a few minutes ago in the elevator -- plus the sounds she made while sucking my cock and I was getting close to sensual overload.

Not that I was complaining, mind you. Dinner had been a confusing mix of conflicting and exciting sexual feelings. It also felt like a long time ago. Was it really only an hour or so? 

Since then, we had rushed back to my building, fucked in the elevator, got into my apartment, pulled off our clothes, and now she was on her way to giving me yet another amazing blowjob and giving herself a mouthful of my semen.

As her position enabled my pre-cum and her saliva to run down my cock, it was quite wet and each time she'd make grandiose movements up or down there was a slurping sound along with one of her exciting moans.

With every other woman I'd ever been, blowjobs were a treat for me -- a treat that each was giving to me. With Simone it was as though I was giving her a treat "letting her" suck my cock and "providing her" with semen.

My mind drifted back to earlier in the week. I'd been studying for a Quantitative Systems exam I had the following night at school. Simone had been involved in one of her favorite activities -- other than sex. She was reading. She was a voracious reader and tackled almost anything. In fact, if a book was a little confusing for her or if she didn't know its background, she'd go to the library, take out a few books to get the fundamentals of the subject, read those, and then get back to the initial book. (This was a while ago, before the ability to research virtually everything on the Internet.) It never ceased to surprise me how much someone who'd only graduated high school knew and continued to learn by herself.

"You know," I said to her, "you're an autodidact."

"Well, thank you, kind sir," she replied and then added, without missing a beat, "I find pleonasm odious."

This sesquipedalian intercourse made us both laugh, but I was again struck by how she'd learned so much vocabulary with no higher education. She was driven.

"Would you mind taking a break for a few minutes and jerking off for me, in my mouth?" she asked me, as though she were asking me to get her a glass of water on my way back from the kitchen.

It was a refreshing pause from my studying. I simply got up from my books and walked over to Simone who was sitting on the sofa. She unzipped my jeans just enough to get out my cock and, after a quick licking of the head, swallowed me until her nose was pressed against my abs.

If I'd been soft this might not have been such a feat, but in the time since she mentioned it and the moment she'd licked around the head, I'd gotten a raging hard-on (although I'm not sure that a hard-on can truly rage). She adjusted me in her mouth to get some more saliva on my cock and slowly pulled me out and then shoved back again. She did this several times before she shoved me deep again, pulling on my hips to press me as deeply into her mouth and throat as possible.

I was almost on the verge of coming (i.e., the verge of the verge) when she suddenly pulled me out and said, "Please jerk off in my mouth. Please, please, pretty please."

"How can I resist when you've asked so nicely?" I said.

"Oh, goody, goody, mm. I've been wanting this all night, but I didn't want to disturb your studying."

I reached down with my left hand a grabbed a handful of her right boob and jerked off with my right. In no time at all I was ready -- or more!

"Here's lookin' at you, kid," I said to her in my best Bogart imitation.

She smiled up at me and stuck out her tongue. After making a few circles first to wet her lips and then around my head, she simply let it stay up against the slit.

My hand began to move faster and I was momentarily concerned that I'd conk her in the nose. However, as my orgasm was imminent there wasn't much to be gained by worrying about it. She was a big girl and that cute nose of hers could take care of itself!

Her eyes were focused on my cock, a look of anticipation on her face. Some pre-seminal fluid flew around, a few drops landing on my hand, her face, and who knows where. "Oh, come on, come on," she said eagerly, "gimme, gimme, gimme a mouthful of that white stuff. Now. Please."

There was little more to say, except, "Uh. Aah." And I was shooting onto her tongue.

It seemed that Simone came the moment her tongue sent her brain the message that there was cum on it. She began a small shiver that caused her to moan along with me as my second shot laid a load even bigger than the first all over her tongue.

Before I knew it we were both making sounds that people usually just tease one another about.

The excitement was always surprising to me, though. I'd never had any woman ask me to jerk off in her mouth before. I remember thinking while I was coming, "I could get used to this."

What was really great was the guiltlessness of it all. It wasn't like I was asking her to do something distasteful or degrading. She wanted me to jerk off on her tongue and in her mouth. She asked me to. How could I not do what's requested of me when a good friend asks for a favor, right?

As the cum began piling up on her tongue I was surprised at how thick it was. I don't look at my ejaculations too often, so the array of thick, gooey, "white stuff" amassing on her tongue made me feel especially macho. This was at least as good as the guys on the porn videos I'd seen, maybe even better than most. I was proud of myself.

Of course, her pretty face, the firm feel of her breast and erect nipple, and the sounds and smells we were creating all made me more excited as shot after shot of semen cascaded onto her now overflowing tongue.

She tried to keep it all in but there was too much on the tip of her tongue and it began to run over her lip and slowly ooze down her chin. It was one of those indelible moments that are now etched into my brain. I don't know why exactly; it wasn't as though I'd never seen her enjoy my cum before. This time though it was like a movie playing in slow motion as the spurts kept coming and my physical pleasure was enhanced by the image of my cum accumulating on her tongue, lip, and chin.

As she began to calm down from the initial orgasm, she moved one of her hands, which had been just clutching her book, palm up under her chin to catch whatever errant cum could not be restrained by her now retracted tongue. It was pretty neat to watch her come anew as the semen now washed around her mouth. She swished it around making the kind of noise you make when you rinse with mouthwash, but I know I've never had that much fun with mouthwash.

She eventually began to focus again and saw my post-tumescent cock still doing a pretty good job of staring at her. Upon noticing that there was still some more cum on the tip she drew the head into her mouth, sucking on all that was left so it could join the rest of the batch already there.

"Wow!" I exclaimed in a reasonably calm voice.

"Mm, mm," she hummed with enjoyment that often comes with a forkful of a wonderful dessert. After staring longingly at my cock and continuing to bathe her mouth with cum, she moved her head sideways so that she could feel it against her cheek, rubbing my cock with apparent adoration along her smooth skin.

She then slowly turned upward to look at me, opening her mouth to show me her prize, before closing it to blow small bubbles. After she'd finished playing with the semen she took a long swallow and smiled up at me.

"Wow," she said echoing my previous exclamation. "That was delicious. Any time you just get the urge to have an orgasm, just say the word; my mouth is yours. I love it when you come in my mouth. What amazes me is how you come. You shoot so much and it's so thick. It's like your prick is a tube of toothpaste and suddenly someone slams a 20-pound weight on it. Boom! Out shoots a rich, thick several ounce serving of manjuice. Boom! Boom! You just keep it coming. I love it.

"Ooh, I almost forgot," she said, looking down at her open hand with a little more pooled cum that had fallen off her chin.

"You also have a little icicle of semen dripping from your chin," I told her.

"Mustn't let this great white stuff go to waste," she said as she used her other hand get all the cum on and dripping down from her chin to join the stuff in her palm. She then slowly licked the semen from her hand, all of it, until her hand had no traces left.

"Thank you," she said to me, "thanks for the treat."

That was that. I returned to my studies and she made a return to The Return Of The Native.

That was a nice memory from earlier in the week that helped me to learn more about her, this truly a unique and passionate woman. The very same woman who was now mostly naked, kneeling between my legs on my bed, rubbing her nipples along my thighs, and plunging her head up and down on my rock-hard cock, newly revived from the fucking she'd just given me in the elevator not half an hour ago.

As she pulled her head almost off my cock and began to use her hands to massage my dick and my balls, she held the head firmly between her lips doing something that I'd never felt before with her tongue or teeth. I really couldn't understand what she was doing, but the intensity was dramatic, as I was getting ready to have another orgasm.

I began to think about what she'd told me at dinner, how she'd sucked off more than half a dozen men twice in an hour or two one night at a party, some after they'd just pulled out of another woman's pussy. This made me confused as the conflicting feelings (love, jealousy, disappointment, and rage were a few) rushed through my mind.

Regardless, whatever she was doing with her mouth, hands, and boobs brought me to my senses both in the figurative meaning and certainly the literal one. She was almost sucking the cum out of my cock and almost everything else with it. The temporary thoughts of conflict left as quickly as they came, the paradoxical nature of my emotions notwithstanding.

Now, as both her hands and her mouth were playing new games with my cock, she knew it was time. I could sense that she was beginning to come just knowing that I would, too, any second now. How could she come just knowing that I was about to? For that matter, how did she know before I did?

Just as my brain began to start guessing at exactly how much experience she'd had, my orgasm overwhelmed any other thought. I suddenly was a volcano. It surprised me since I almost wasn't ready for it.

Simone was ready, though, and had begun to be quite still as a huge climax had her tensed up. I could see it in her shoulders, arms, and neck. It was just her mouth that was vacuuming up all the semen I could shoot into her mouth, directly over her tongue, and down her throat.

"Oh man," she said after swallowing everything I had. "That was the best."

As I silently nodded and moaned something like, "uh huh," in agreement, she licked around my cock in case a few drops had not made their target, but with this new technique (new for me, at least) I doubted anything could have escaped those lips.

"Gosh, Ed, you have the best cum ever," she said to me as she continued to lick my cock and my balls. "You just came twice in, like, half an hour. You know that?"

"Yeah, pretty damn good, huh?"

"Are you kidding? You bet! Pretty damn good," she confirmed.

We cuddled for a few minutes under the covers. Then, looking at the clock we realized that it was still early.

"You want a glass of something?" I asked, getting up, throwing on a robe, and heading into the kitchen.

"Yeah," I heard her say, "you got a glass of semen?"

The mixed emotions flooded back into my brain as I poured us two glasses of a Grand Cru Chablis that I'd received as a gift a few months back. It felt like a night for celebrations. I wasn't sure why, but why not? I asked myself.

Simone had put her bra back on and had found a pair of matching black lace panties. She looked so hot walking into the kitchen.

No, she really didn't walk into the kitchen. She took over the kitchen; she controlled the kitchen. She'd brushed her short, blonde hair and had put on some dramatic lipstick. Tracing down from there she had her lacey, outrageously large cupped bra, her breasts completely encased in those enormous cups. Then there appeared to be a foot or more of smooth, narrow-waisted, well-defined trunk, leading down to the lavender garter belt with the black garters, now under the black lace bikini panties that matched the lace in her bra. Next, there was a long, lean, line of firm, smooth white flesh until the dark sheer stockings ran down to her black or dark gray high-heeled boots. With those heels she must have been over 5'11" and looked every inch like a fashion model or an extra in an S & M film, sort of like Victoria's Secret meets Helmut Newton.

Offering her a glass of the Chablis I said, "You look great."

"D'ya think so? I can fake confidence most of the time, but to tell you the truth: I feel so insecure about my boobs. They're so damn huge. It's like when I go to the market and the cashier is looking at my chest. I mean, I'm just going about my business, minding my own business and here's this person (it doesn't matter if it's a man or a woman) staring at my chest. Like in those bra commercials, 'Hello, I'm up here.' I often feel like saying, but, you know, I never do.

"Well, that's not true. Sometimes I've said some things to really rude people, but usually I tend outwardly to be pretty stoic about it.

She paused for a moment. "Gee, this is so dry. It's wonderful. It tastes fresh, like an icy... um, something. It tastes less fruity and less oaky than most chardonnay. Is this a real Chablis?"

"OK. Now I'm impressed. Have you ever had a real Chablis?" I asked her.

"I don't think so, but I've read about them. One day I'd love to explore the vineyards in France, Germany, Italy, Spain, and Portugal."

"Is that all?" I kidded her. "What about Chile or Australia?"

"Well, I haven't had anything that wowed me from those places, but I have from Europe. Though I guess I'd like to explore Napa and Sonoma and the Willamette Valley too."

Again I was surprised that this twenty-two-year-old with no education past high school knew so much. Come to think of it. I really didn't know much about her, especially what she'd been doing in the last four or five years since graduating from high school.

My curiosity began to wash away in the relatively high alcohol of the Chablis Grand Cru.

"One day I'll get there," she said.

"Hey," she said as we both were feeling the effects of dinner, the elevator fuck, the blowjob, and the new rush of alcohol. I think we were a little spaced out, just staring at the kitchen table. Actually she was staring at the kitchen table; I was staring at her breasts moving up and down as she breathed slowly in the quiet apartment.

"Let's watch some porn. You've got some, don't you? Everyone does, right? At least every guy does."

"Um, yeah, OK," I stammered. Immediately I began to think about my porn stash and if she'd think I was weird with the accumulation I had. This was nearly twenty years ago. Online anything was not nearly as common as it is today. Streaming? What was that? No, in those days porn was VHS tapes or maybe some laser disks.

"Hey, maybe we can watch and if you feel like it, I can suck you again while we're watching. Or, you could just jerk off and come on my tongue when there's an exciting part." She paused, pondering, finally adding, "There must be some scene that always gets you hot. Let me know and you can give me your load then. Actually, you don't have to. I always know when you're going to come!"

And there it was. She always knew what to do to make me come and she always knew when I was going to. I tried to figure out how we were both going to watch with her mouth on my dick, but I decided to just go with the flow. It was enough to just be with this sex dynamo.



Deep Secret Ch. 08 - Oral



Her tongue was awash in the ejaculate of maybe a dozen men, sloshing around in her mouth like the whitecaps off Westport, Washington, in the midwinter's wind. And yet, her face kept smiling while another nine or ten men shot towards her still open mouth. There was so much semen in it that there was now a slow, but regular dripping from the corners and, occasionally, a small white waterfall just over her entire lower lip.

Some of the later shooters came almost at the same moment making it impossible for one to get out of the way of another and virtually assuring that many of their shots hit her chin, cheeks, and other places on her face.

Then there were a few -- there were always a few -- who just seemed to have no aiming ability, whatsoever. These guys' shots hit her ear, her hair, her neck, and some, probably on purpose, ejaculated on her naked chest.

Yet, it looked like she was still smiling. How could anyone smile with that much cum in her mouth, in fact, over most of her front above T6? You could see it more in her eyes, at least I did.

Or so I thought.

"She doesn't mean it," Simone exclaimed.

"What? Huh?" I grunted, very distracted by this semen receptacle on my television screen as well as Simone's hand caressing my balls below my very erect cock.

"She's not into that at all. She's thinking to herself, 'Jeez, when are these jerk-offs gonna finish their eponymous task so I can swallow this crap, do the obligatory smile, wave bye-bye for the camera, get my cash, get the hell out of here, and get home where I can puke and then take a half-hour gargle with Listerine (or maybe bleach) to get the vile taste of all this shit out of my mouth?'"

It was pretty rare that Simone used coarse language, so this made me concentrate less on some of my favorite jerk-off material and listen to what she had said.

"No way! She's enjoying herself. Look at that contented smile," I said defensively, though with a somewhat mocking tone. "She's the proverbial cat that at the rat... or the cream (appropriate, no?)... or whatever it was that she ate," I fired back, just as the young woman had swallowed the white liquid and was smiling at the camera -- and waving -- before it dissolved into the next scene. I hit the pause button.

"Listen, Ed, trust me. I know what I'm talking about. That woman was at work, doing a job. Period."

As she moved slightly away from me on the sofa I felt a little chill in my living room's atmosphere. Had I insulted her? Had I grossed her out?

"You know, all of this hard core stuff is not exactly what most women like," she told me after a moment. "Believe me." She paused, then, "See, I think that a lot of young women might find that watching this stuff will make a guy like them. They figure they'll look cool and the guy'll think they're hot, so they might look like they're into it, but I think for most women, especially ones who are either older or at least have more self-confidence, this can be exciting in short takes, but a lot of it is just boring.

"And may be even bordering on some kind of abuse. It's, it's not misogynistic exactly, but it's so male oriented," said Simone. "Let's face it..."

And then she chortled, "I guess I mean that -- 'Let's face it' -- somewhat literally. This is from the viewpoint of a camera looking down at a girl surrounded by a bunch of cocks, all of which are shooting their (to me, very tasty-looking) cum at the girl upon whom the camera is focused. (I think I could have expressed that better. Was there a run-on clause in that sentence?)

"Nevertheless, as I said, if this really were from the woman's viewpoint, wouldn't there be half a dozen cocks aiming directly at the camera? I mean, that's what you'd see if you were the woman in that scene."

She stopped and I stared at her, speechless. I'd never thought about porn that way. Why would I want to? I certainly didn't want to see a bunch of cocks staring at me!

"And another thing: I think that most men are just plain weird about semen. They like to see it shoot on a woman or into a woman's mouth, but it's not anything that turns them on. In fact, I think most guys think cum's a little disgusting.

"Perhaps the whole 'shooting' at or on a woman is exciting for most guys because it's something they think is cool when a woman likes it -- especially because they themselves are often turned off by it. You see, guys think that a woman who appears to like semen is somehow a sex hound.

"That's not necessarily true, though. Some women find it exciting because they like the guy and like to turn him on. So, doing something that turns him on is a turn-on for them. But, if they split up and she finds another guy who likes something else she'll focus on that. If it turns him on, she'll get into that -- if she likes the guy, of course. Women are not one-trick ponies the way men are."

"Well, that's certainly food -- or drink -- for thought," I said, trying to inject some humor after her mini-tirade. Then I sat back, pensive, even considering whether it was a mini-tirade or a full-fledged tirade.

We'd been watching a bunch of porn videos after our very active -- and mutually satisfying -- sex filled evening. In the past I'd never been quite comfortable watching porn with others, male or female. Watching porn with other guys felt awkward in high school, as I tended to keep my masturbatory fantasies to myself. After high school, with the introduction of porn on-line, I never wanted to share my fantasies with another guy.

A few times I did watch porn with some women I dated, but it became clear that our ideas about porn appeared to be at opposite ends of the spectrum. Those women tended to like the softer core stuff -- silk sheets, gauzy curtains, half-naked couples in bubble baths, and loving, tender caresses -- whereas I like tits n' ass, cock sucking, cum shots -- oh, and did I mention big tits on slender gals? I guess I'd always had some hope of sharing my fantasies with a woman I was dating -- and discovering that those things turned her on too. Yet, I never thought I'd really say to someone "Hey, isn't that amazing how far she gets that thing down her throat," or "Can you believe that there are three of those things in there?"

It just seemed that any girl I'd date would be long gone by the time the video even got that far.

Nevertheless, Simone had watched a few standard videos with me and we'd both made some comments. That felt pretty comfortable. Then she said, "OK, this is pretty tame stuff, right? I'm sure you must have some special video (or more than one or a slew of them) that 'does it for you!' You know, something that you like to jerk off to when the fancy strikes you."

"Uh, well," I had stammered, "I guess I have done some editing, just showing the bits that turn me on, but I'm not sure how you'll feel about them. You'll probably think I'm a perv."

So there we were. Simone seemed upset, but I couldn't tell exactly what had set her off. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel like I was a sexist pig. For what it was worth, I didn't think of myself as one. Often, though, the sexist or the racist or the bigot of any sort is the last to admit or even to know it. Could I be "that guy?" What they used to call a male chauvinist pig?

At that moment, my feelings were truly mixed. Part of me was somewhat confused about my potential as a misogynist. Did I really love or hate women? I'd thought I'd always been honest and open with women, but my taste in porn did perhaps belie those beliefs.

Most of my 'private stash,' the videos I'd edited over the last few years, were of women who were usually slim with truly big tits or at least in good shape with 'normal' sized big tits. Usually they were reasonably pretty and I almost always liked ones who smiled. The whole sexy-vampy-pouting thing never really did it for me.

Recalling what we'd just watched on this video I thought about the fact that most of the scenes were of women getting creamed on by a bunch of guys, mostly into her mouth. I thought it looked like they were enjoying themselves. It certainly wasn't S&M or anything in which they weren't willingly participating.

On the other hand, her statement about the camera being from the viewpoint of the guy did have merit. I never wanted to see cocks staring at me, but if a woman really wanted guys to cum in her face that would be exactly her point of view.

My extended silence had added to our emotional distance and the chill intensified.

"Boy, I really poured cold water on our first porn adventure, didn't I?" she asked me trying to lighten the mood.

I looked at her, but wasn't ready to say anything yet. As I said, my feelings were just plain mixed at the moment.

However, I didn't tell you the other part.

The other part was how hot I was watching this very exciting -- and, yes, maybe misogynistic -- porn with the most awesome woman I'd ever been with. And, she hadn't slapped me and walked out in a huff.

So, bottom line: I had another raging hard-on that was, fortunately, covered by my robe and the blanket we'd put over us while watching the videos. It wasn't that I was embarrassed by my excitement; in fact, it seemed to me that Simone loved my cock. But given her rant I didn't think it was appropriate for me to be sticking straight up just now, at least visibly.

That was when she threw me another curve.

"Now, I hope you can muster up some cum for me, because that video made me so hot, horny, and hungry for it.

"Why don't you just jerk off in my mouth the way those guys did in that woman's mouth. Hell, I don't even care if you want to watch it again while you do it. I am so horny for some more semen."

I hit the remote to do a fast rewind of the video. I went back several minutes to a scene of a pretty, black woman with big natural boobs lying down and having a whole bunch of guys jerk off in her mouth and on her face.

"Oh, yeah, that was hot," Simone said. "When I saw that much cum, all I could think of was that I was she, having all that cum for myself.

She looked like she was having fun."

As I stood up, Simone slid off the sofa, pulled a pillow down to the floor, and stared at my hard-on, which stared right back at her, a drop of semen from earlier on its head. She licked out and slurped it up with a lightening quick flick of her tongue.

Then she grabbed the remote and pressed play, letting me jack off, while she looked at the video and occasionally at my hand movements.

"Ed, I know I've probably confused you; it, I mean, this whole sex thing confuses me.

"Sometimes I think porn is exploitative and not a very healthy form of commerce. Other times I'm not so sure what I think. Sometimes I can cum just watching a guy shoot a load. And, if that load were in my mouth, I'd cum every time.

"I told you that I've had guys jerk off into my mouth, when I was younger. Even though I have mixed feelings about it, it's still one of the most exciting things in the world."

Still looking at the screen intently, she absentmindedly licked and sucked at the head of my dick while I was jerking off like a madman.

"Now, can you please give me some more cum, please? I mean, look at all of that cum on that lady's face. My goodness, I am so wet, I'm gonna cum. Oh yes. Oh, yeah. Oh!"

That started her on a series of orgasms. That sweet, pretty face of hers was dreamy with pleasure. After a moment she put her head back a little and opened her mouth just under my dripping cockhead.

Slowly she moved her tongue out, ready to capture whatever I had left in my balls -- after all I'd just cum twice in the previous couple of hours. I wasn't expecting to put on a fluid-filled fanfare.

Between the woman on the video sort of oohing and aahing in surprise and delight, and Simone's laughing and moaning at the pleasure she was enjoying, I got so swept up I couldn't figure out where to look. Part of me watched the video, now back to the woman getting the 20 or more mouthfuls and part of me watched Simone's open mouth with her tongue seemingly begging me for semen.

It was all too much and even I wasn't prepared when the first shot suddenly spurted out, a large dollop of very white, thick cum plopped, audibly, unto her outstretched tongue.

"Oh god," she said as clearly as possible with one's mouth open and cum on one's tongue (or so I expected, never having read any studies about the limitations of speech with a cum covered tongue). But, her smile was very evident. Her eyes were mostly closed, but were smiling nevertheless.

I surprised myself several times as I came strongly with another three or four healthy doses of cum, all very thick and white, landing like icing on her tongue.

It was then that she leaned forward, just a tad, to suck me into her mouth, not deep, but enough to encircle my head and suck whatever else was coming at that time into her mouth.

As she shortly released my cock, I fell back to the sofa and she, still resting on the pillow on the floor, fell backwards to rest her head on the seat of the sofa, now wrapping the blanket around her.

We both sat there, slight hums of contentment arising from both of us, as we watched an Asian woman with a glass mug or cup under her chin get what looked like dozens of guys just walking up to her and jerking off in her open mouth, their semen played with in and around her mouth before letting it drip into the glass.

Each time a guy came, the Asian woman appeared to thank him for his semen. Simultaneously, Simone made a small moan and it was clearly another in an incredibly long string of orgasms.

She then leaned over to the coffee table, picked up her empty wine glass, held it under her chin and ever so slowly let my cum that had been sitting in her mouth for the past few minutes dribble over her lower lip, down her chin, and then drop several more inches into the wine glass.

What struck me as a bit strange was that I couldn't figure out if she was doing this for my benefit or for her own, or maybe both. After a moment or two I thought to myself "Ed, you think too much. Fuggedaboudit!"

And with that thought tossed away, I looked at how lovely Simone looked with the semen still slowly dribbling down, a white cascade from her mouth to her chin. Then these strings of semen would form and hang for a while before dripping into the glass.

Finally, when it was all gone, she put the glass back onto the coffee table and leaned my way to suck my very limp cock, obviously trying to suck out any lingering, obstinate semen that wasn't ready to make an appearance just yet. She must have done a good job (What's that line about a golf ball through a garden hose?), because when she pulled off my dick she had at least a little more for the glass and dribbled that in it too.

"Wow, Ed, that was really hot," she said finally, "I can't believe how strongly I just came. You see what I mean about my conflict. On the one hand porn is so much a guy thing. On the other it can really excite me. I'm a little nuts, huh?"

"No, Simone, after three orgasms in the last couple of hours, I'm the one with the little nuts," I said, my sense of humor clearly lacking any class whatsoever. In fact, there was no actual sense of humor, more like an attempt at it.

Regardless, she politely laughed a little and went back to lick my still soft cock and my balls in a very sweet and adoring fashion.

"Jeez, do I love it when you come. I love the taste of it. When that lady had that big glass full of it I got so turned on.

"You know, though, it's not that great when it gets colder. Plus it's not that easy to drink it. It's really thick when there's a lot of it and you can't just guzzle it straight, not when there's a lot! Well, you can, but you have to be careful or it'll tickle your throat and make you cough." She chuckled. "Then it's a mess."

Leaning forward to pick up the semen bottomed wine glass, I thought about her words and what she had told me at dinner. I was very tempted to asked her about some of her other past multi-guy events, but I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.

On the other hand I'll bet it would be so hot to hear her history. The more I got to know her, the richer I imagined that history to be.

She held the wine glass up to the light and it glistened a little. I felt proud of my cum at the moment, especially when she wafted it under her nose before putting the glass to her lips. She put her head back slightly as she upped the glass and drew in everything that was in it.

Swizzling it around her mouth she made sounds like you would with mouthwash. Then she opened her mouth to show me the semen-saliva mixture bubble from between her teeth. Some would start to dribble down her chin but she would suck it back up while it was still there. After doing that several times, she took my hand, put it palm up under her chin and dribbled the cum onto my hand.

Then, not even looking at me, she appeared to have another little orgasm as she looked at the pool that was there, before licking up all of it back in her mouth.

She next dribbled it all directly into the wine glass again, holding it tightly by the stem, while cleaning up every drop in my hand. Her tongue and lips licking all over my hand got me excited all over again.

When she was sure my hand was spick and span she took the wine glass and quickly drained its contents into her mouth and down her throat with a loud gulping sound.

"Shoot, I am hooked on this stuff. You ready to give me some more?"

"I'd love to Simone, but I'm pretty beat; let me have another fifteen minutes or so."

"OK, I'll go get some more of the Chablis and then we can watch more semen shoot in your video. Maybe there'll really be another woman who has a smile and means it. I'll let you know when I see a cum-lover's sincerity. But, the video is exciting. It's like you've compiled the best parts. If only, oh, never mind, sorry..."

I knew, I just knew, she was thinking "if only I could have all that semen in the videos." And, to tell you the truth, I was pretty much OK with it. She was a woman with a unique taste. One cock, even one cock with a huge amount of semen, would probably never sexually fulfill her desire. At least, I doubted it would.

Anyway, by now she'd warmed up apparently and I watched her get up, tossing off the blanket. Those large round breasts in those globular bra cups never ceased to make me catch my breath. And as she walked away into the kitchen I relished the moment, looking at her tall graceful form clad in the black bra, garters, stockings, and panties with that lavender garter belt.

Legs for days. What a fox!

And she was here with me.



Deep Secret Ch. 09 - Asset



At the risk of stereotyping, I'll state: men don't discuss relationships. Sports, women, alcoholic beverages, cars, yes. Relationships, not so much. Depending on individual life situations you could throw in kids, the house, issues with parents and their care (or their meddling),s, kids' colleges and tuitions, the wife (the Missus, the old ball and chain...), financial issues, jobs, the exes (or possibly their restraining orders), commutes, and, of course, the best route from point A to point B.

Maybe you could add movies, TV shows, hotties (both current and former), and bands.

And, thus, I slept in on that Sunday morning alone in our bed, thinking about Amanda and Simone. Amanda, my lovely wife of well more than a decade, was at the moment on her way to her parents to pick up our kids. The night before we'd returned from a terrific vacation in Hawaii. We were relaxed and refreshed. We'd had some great sex overlooking lush forests on one side and overlooking the Pacific on the other. It was wonderful. I was a lucky man. Our life was satisfying, stable, and there wasn't much we lacked in almost any sense.

Nevertheless, I still had a small but empty place inside of me. I still had that what if feeling. For a long time the memories of Simone had not been near the surface. But they had arisen just as we'd left for the vacation a couple of weeks ago. Memories so vivid I could smell her, see her smile, her body, feel her skin, her tongue, her lips.

So it was I recalled that late Friday night after a great meal, exciting and even unexpected sex, and a night of revelations.

Both of us were exhausted by the time we got into bed. Between Simone and her amazing sexual talents plus some more of my favorite porn videos of all time I had had one more orgasm that night, making it four since after dinner.

For her part, I think Simone had pretty much just one orgasm that started in the elevator on the way up to my place and – except for a short discussion about the exploitative nature of pornography and our conflicted feelings about it – ended just a few minutes ago. This young woman was a walking, talking sex goddess. Yet, she was incredibly smart, motivated, sensitive, and loving. Also, lest I forget to mention it, she was pretty with high cheekbones and a toothpaste commercial smile and had breasts that were way, way too large for her lean, long and strong body.

So, what the fuck was she doing here with this schlub, me?

Deciding that was not the way to a happy life – i.e., focusing on the negatives – I put my arms around her, crossing my arms, with one hand resting on each breast. Her soft, smooth, and very firm butt felt so good against my lower abs, hips, and thighs. The smell of her shampoo in my nose.

I was in heaven.

She interrupted my reverie with a simple statement with weighty implications.

"I don't ever want to be someone's trophy wife."

That was it. Out of the blue, in the silence of my darkened bedroom, she just put that out there. It wasn't said in anger or frustration or even with any doubt that she could be.

My immediate response was going to be to say something like, "Why would you say that?"

Then rethinking what I was going to say, I thought about a simple, "Oh, you're too smart for that."

However, maybe she was looking for support both for her not being that because she was so smart, but at the same time wanting confirmation that she was a babe with the physical attributes of potentially being a trophy wife.

The more I got to know her, the more I had to think about what to say when she got into areas of feelings and emotions. This was so not guy stuff – and I was just that: a guy, a dumb, naturally sex-focused, goal-oriented guy.

Fortunately, Simone, after a few moments of (on my part, terrified of saying the wrong thing) silence, she spoke.

"I may be young, but I've lived quite a life, one that most people only see in movies. I've learned a great deal about people.

"You see, Ed, people change; life changes them."

Knowing that more was coming, I kept quiet, slightly stroking her boobs, the movement evoking an automatic hum of contentment from my bedmate.

"An old James Bond movie was on TV the other night," she said. "I only caught a few minutes of it, but I think it was Goldfinger. A very young Connery, Sean Connery, was playing Bond, James Bond. In this scene he's getting some champagne for a female he's about to seduce. He says something like 'Dom Pérignon '53 should not be served when the temperature is above [something] degrees. That's like listening to The Beatles without earmuffs!'

"Can you imagine? I looked it up and that movie came out in 1964 when The Beatles were huge, well, they were pretty much always huge, but that was the year when they first came to America and had several songs in the top ten, I think. And, yet, here in a pop culture movie – one which no one really thought would ever become a 'classic' – are both an actor who broke his James Bond mold as well as the mention of a pop group who were perceived as no more than just another British Invasion band. Now, decades later, in one form or another they've evolved, morphed, and grown into things no one could have imagined in 1964."

Wow! Where did this come from? This all began when she broke the silence with her initial statement about not wanting to be a trophy wife.

It confirmed my reactive resolution was absolutely right: not saying a word was definitely the way to go. This was not the time to even guess which direction her thoughts were taking. Anything I'd venture would be dead wrong. Count on it.

A few moments later she said, "I've seen too many cases where men are turkeys. I'm not including you, of course," she added, pressing my hands with one hand and reaching down between her legs to let my tired but slightly tumescent prick snuggle in, surrounded by her taut thighs and delicious pussy.

"My point is that when men get older and rich, they want younger, more physically attractive wives. Well, maybe that's true whether they get rich or not. But many men still ache when they look at hot young things, even when they're in a good marriage. When they have the means, though, they either get it on the side, like an administrative assistant or some other female sycophant-type. Or, they simply have the proverbial and relatively male-only 'mid-life crisis,' dump the wife who's raised their kids, cleaned their house, supported them in everything by letting them go out and make money. Then they buy the sports car, the yacht, the house at the lake, the jet, whatever, and eventually start dating younger 'trophy' women. Well, I don't want to be one of those!"

She shifted a little. I kissed the back of her neck and nibbled on her ear. She purred and it appeared to calm her a little.

"Listen, Ed, I know that people look at me when I walk into a room. Hell, I've seen men drive off the road when I've been out running or cycling. I don't think I'm that great to look at, but apparently others do. I get stared at all the time, you know. We've talked about it.

"It's that I want to make something of myself so that I'm not just a 'babe.' Looks fade and men will always be staring at and yearning for the newer models, just like cars. That will happen to me too one day.

"But, I want to have my own life and my own career. I don't want to be a gewgaw on a man's arm, like a Rolex, something for him to show off. I know I want something more – and I know I have to go back to school to start to look for that."

She was hitting so many of the things I knew were true about her, I was almost at a loss for words. However, I knew it was my turn to say something. "Hey," I said to her, "you know, I think that's a great idea. Weren't you going to stop by school to get their schedule of classes for the spring?"

"Yeah, I did and I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I'm going to try to take a full credit load and continue to work. It'll be hard, I know, but I've got to try it, at least for one semester and see how it goes. I don't have a lot of confidence that I will succeed, but I'll see."

"Are you sure you want to jump in with both feet like that? Why not just take one or maybe two classes and see?"

"Each semester I delay is a semester longer I have until I get my degree."

I had to admit I agreed with that. I felt the same way about my MBA. I couldn't wait until it was over. It seemed to be taking forever, but the truth was I'd be done next May.

The last thing I remember was Simone hugging me with my dick buried in her groin.





Deep Secret Ch. 10 - Tongue



It's an amazing, probably atavistic, quality of the male of the species that we are so visual when it comes to analysis. Early man certainly had to decide if a specific woolly mammoth he was espying through the cover of the forest – sizing it up for the tribe's dinner – was the same one he had pissed off the previous week, right?

We must employ the same exacting analytical traits when observing a woman. I know I don't speak for all men, but many of us have our own, possibly unique craziness when it comes to our relationship with specific female body parts and not necessarily primary or even secondary sex traits.

Last century – 

Wait, that makes me feel too old.

OK, then, let's say, more than a decade ago, a male character on a television show called Alley McBeal had a thing for an older woman's wattle. A cute plot device, moderately well-played for laughs, but still, probably not a main-stream fetishistic area for most guys. Nevertheless…

I knew a guy in college who loved to spend time reviewing and analyzing women's Achilles tendons. And, I've seen some videos where guys will find a woman's armpit visually exciting enough to lick it and even jerk off on it.

You'll note that I'm not condoning the fact that men objectify women, just acknowledging that most of us do it.

So it was that, in our basement workout room, while I jogged on the treadmill, I could not stop staring at my wife Amanda's boobs as she worked her pecs, doing flies on an incline bench. I loved looking at the way they flattened out when her arms were extended laterally and pushed together (and out in front) when she brought the dumbbells together.

Though it had been a long time since I'd thought about Simone, this Hawaii trip from which we'd just returned seemed to trigger a slew of memories. Amanda's breasts, notwithstanding, I could only think about that morning at the gym years ago.





Deep Secret Ch. 10 - Tongue



Though she sure never looked it and I would never have thought she was, at 130 pounds and at that height she was almost below the low end of the healthy BMI scale. I didn't want her to be anorexic. Maybe it was this semen diet of hers!

Regardless, she was in great health and very fit. She ran three or four days each week, seven or eight miles each day she ran. In addition, she was at the gym at least twice a week. Throw in some cycling, swimming, and hiking and it all made for one very firm, very fit, very beautiful woman.

And, at this exact moment, this beautiful woman was doing something with her tongue about halfway down my cock that was new and very stimulating. One of her hands was caressing the base and tickling what it could of my exposed ball sack. Her other hand was using my knee for support. It was that tongue of hers that almost felt like it was giving me a hand job again. How she could jerk me off with her tongue was completely unfathomable. I could not explain it.

What I can state is that it was about ten minutes since she began and she had me on the verge of another climax. I was stimulated by her tongue, her fingers, her moans that had begun to come at regular intervals, which meant that she was already having her own warm-up orgasms.

Feeling the clasp of her bra, though, was now exciting me too. I wasn't sure why, but I was suddenly very curious exactly how big those puppies were.

In fact, I thought to myself, maybe I can grab a hold of one. It would give me something to hold onto when I came – something I knew was going to happen very soon.

I was thwarted, though, by her left side resting against me so closely that I could not get under her torso. Trying to get some boob before I came had suddenly become at the very least a strong desire. I wanted to feel those funbags and wanted to feel them now.

Duh! Remembering that, though she was strong and tall, she had a relatively slim physique. I reached over to the right side of her back and beyond, following the band of the bra around her side and came smack onto the underwire of her bra. I suddenly realized what she'd been telling me on occasion when the conversation turned to lingerie. (One of my favorite topics to discuss with her!)

Here was this strong, thick flat wire that came under her right boob and up almost into her armpit. What a tight fit that was! How can she move without those underwires poking her flesh regularly? It was a testament to modern technology as well as to her own pain threshold that she could wear a bra at all. I, of course, might have preferred that she go braless, but clearly that would have its own set of problems when we went out.

Where was I? Oh, yes, I was just about having a big climax – my first in minutes! I hadn't even realized that I was moving my hips and thrusting into her mouth while she continued to do that amazing tongue jerk-off thing.

Her moans picked up the tempo and so did mine as I suddenly came with a succession of several rapid shots, not my usual take-your-time series. But, as I was generally a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, it just felt good so I did it.

Simone's back tensed up viscerally and visibly in a sure sign that we were getting off together.

After I was all through coming, she remained with her head in my crotch and my cock in her mouth – my now back-to-normal sized cock. Eventually she pulled off me and sat up with her back against her door. She gave me a small smile and had a heavy lidded, far away look on her face. After another few moments she readjusted herself into standard passenger seat position and buckled her seatbelt without saying a word.

I silently put my dick back in my pants and tried to tuck everything in as best I could, before buckling my seatbelt.

As I leaned over to give her a kiss – and to, finally, get a handful of boob – I said to her, "You haven't swallowed a drop, have you? It's all just sitting there in your mouth, washing over and all around your amazing tongue."

"Mm-hm," she responded with a bigger, but still closed-mouth smile, her eyes twinkling, followed by a sexy and stimulating response to my hands on her spectacular tits.

"You really do love that stuff, don't you?"

She nodded and began to swish my white sauce more loudly around her mouth.

Letting her play, I started the car and backed out of my space. On the way out we saw Mrs. Milford – this time without Harry, the horse of a Great Dane – getting off the elevator followed by a guy I'd never seen before. I smiled at Mrs. Milford and waved. She smiled and waved back.

Out of the corner of my eye, it appeared that Simone smiled, too, but her smile turned suddenly to a look of shock. Her lower jaw dropped like an Olympian's barbell after a clean and jerk.

Then, slowly, as she continued to stare, the mouthful of semen began to drip down her lower lip, past her chin, and onto her sweater.

I drove past Mrs. Milford and her elevator companion, watching my cum continue to drain from Simone's mouth. Very sexy.

But as we pulled out onto the street, she remained in this bewildered state, her sweater becoming even wetter and messier, apparently unaware of what was happening.

I don't think I'd ever seen her look so unpleasantly surprised.

"Simone," I attempted to wake her from wherever she'd gone, "hey, Simone, what's going on?"

"Huh, what?" she said with the semen still dripping out her mouth.

"Oh!" she said in surprise, realizing her messy state, as she quickly closed her mouth and swallowed while putting one hand up under her chin. Then she tried to clean up what she could, now with a tad of nonchalance, and licked everything off her fingers and hand.

"Can you hand me the tissues and a bottle of water? I'm a little messy and I don't want to leave DNA all over the place. Even if it is your car – and there's nothing wrong with your DNA in it – you keep it so clean, I don't want to be the person messing it up."

I reached into the back seat and gave her what she wanted. She dried herself and then began to work at the cum soaking into her sweater in the middle and right side of her chest. In most normal women it would probably have dripped onto their laps, but with Simone…

Not knowing what to say – or even what had happened – I kept my mouth shut. (At least one of us could!)

"Gee, that's going to be hard to get out," I said to her.

"Nah," she replied, "piece of cake." Back to her usual, competent self.

Then she went on, "If I had a quarter for every cum stain I've had to get out of a top, well -" she paused, thinking about it seriously, then she continued. "I'd bet I could retire!"

Somehow I believed her. I was appalled and excited at the same time. I knew, from what she'd told me, that she was quite a cock hound when she was younger and she'd sucked off men at parties like she was shaking hands, but how many men had she sucked?

And what was the story with that guy, the one who got off the elevator with Mrs. Milford? Her reaction to seeing him did not bode well.

(Continued)



Deep Secret Ch. 11 - Storm



We drove in silence until the hill for the bridge across the bay. The sunny morning had begun to turn to a nasty gray; every four or five seconds the silence was interrupted by the intermittent wipers. It wasn't looking good for a bit of bucolic bundle-up-by-the-boats brunch.

My thoughts returned to Mrs. Milford. I wondered if she would be shocked to know what Simone had been savoring in her lovely mouth as she waved to us.

Nah, I thought. Everyone was young once. Each of us also thinks he invented sex when he was young. But somehow, I just couldn't see the wizened, old Mrs. Milford as a young woman. Hell, I couldn't even imagine her as a woman. She was just plain old.

Oh man, I thought, as I got onto the bridge across the bay and not checking the traffic flow as much as I should have, sometimes I've really got to stop my mind from meandering.

The reaction Simone seemed to have to the guy who'd gotten off the elevator with Mrs. Milford puzzled me. Simone, though, seemed content to be quiet and I figured it was better to just do the same: sleeping dogs and all that.

Consuela and Emanuel were standing in weatherproof parkas looking at his four-year-old 28-foot Bayliner sitting on a trailer. (He'd picked it up for only about a year's salary!) It was clear it needed some maintenance, not just from the barnacles, but from a hole in the hull that was just above the waterline. I didn't even want to ask how that had happened.

"Bummer," I said with as much sympathy as I could muster for my friend (the idiot).

I remembered telling him when he was thinking about buying it, that boats were great to have as long as you're rich enough to comfortably pay people to do all the things they demand. I also remembered some cute yet often accurate adages about boats and boat owners:

"Boats are holes in the water into which one throws money."

And my other favorite:

"The two happiest days in the life of a boat owner are the day he buys it and the day he sells it."

Manny wasn't rich and he disregarded my advice.

"Yeah," he said. "Bummer."

After the four of us spent the requisite number of minutes tsk-ing at the forlorn sight of Manny's newest money sponge, we walked over to Jimmy's Crab House, hoping that Jimmy hadn't closed for the season. It was now raining steadily; it was windy and cold. We all just wanted to be someplace warm and dry. Throw in some hot food and cold beer: who could ask for anything more?

The Crab House was an institution in the harbor. During "the season" it was hopping from whenever Big Jim got there around 10:00 AM until Little Jimmy closed the place fifteen or sixteen hours later. The weekend after Labor Day, Big Jim and his wife took off for their condo in Florida. His son, Little Jimmy, kept the place open during the shoulder season, but closed it before November came. We were glad when the door opened, but surprised when a live band seemed to announce our entrance.

The place was in disarray. It was dimly lit except for the bright spotlights on the musical group atop the stage at one end of the large room that normally looked out onto the sunlit activity of the pleasure boats in the harbor. Most of the tables with their chairs stacked atop, were lined up along the windowed walls. To make matters even more depressing, part of the floor in the middle of the cavernous hall was torn up, exposing the water pipes beneath.

Little Jimmy heard the door open and came running out from the upstairs kitchen yelling, "Can't you idiots see we're closed? Damn it! What is your – "

He stopped when he saw the four of us. Emanuel's best friend as a kid had been Jimmy's cousin so they were close.

"Hot damn!" Jimmy said, running down the stairs, "Manny, my man, how the hell are you? Consuela, you look ravishing as always.

"Simone, hiya, babe. How about a hug? You know I love feeling those babies, even if I can't touch 'em proper-like. And you Ed, well, I'm just amazed that a classy broad like this sees anything in you."

After a round of greetings, Jimmy said, "Listen, I really am closed, but I'll be glad to rustle something up for you. Unfortunately, the upstairs kitchen is the only one working at the moment so come on up."

The place had an upper floor that ran like one long balcony ringing the room, but was open in the middle so you could see the action below or outside in the harbor. It was built by Jimmy's grandfather back after World War II and graced by lots of bare wood, original ship timbers, and an array of interesting, if not necessarily attractive, nautical gear.

We climbed the stairs and strolled over to a table in the corner overlooking the stormy harbor. Though we couldn't see the group on the stage, their music gave the darkness a festive atmosphere.

"Hey, Jimmy," Consuela yelled as he walked back to the kitchen to bring us some beer and bread, "What's with the band?"

We took off our wet outer clothes and hung them on the back of some nearby chairs. By the time we'd gotten snug and comfortable, Jimmy came back with finger food, glasses, a pitcher of beer, and a carafe of red wine.

After lighting some candles, he said, "I know you two like beer, but there are ladies present and I know they prefer vino."

Finally getting around to answering Con's question he added, "They're a band that my dad knows. He asked if I could help them out by giving them a place to rehearse today. They're a last-minute replacement for another group that's supposed to be the band for a production of Cabaret opening this week at the Civic Center.

"No singing today, from what they tell me. The singers get here tonight or tomorrow. They just have today to learn their music."

That explained enough of the chaos in the place. We didn't even ask about the floor.

After he left, Emanuel and I talked some about baseball (There was a big fight for the World Series title.) while the women talked about whatever it is they talk about. (I think it was shoes.)

Less than ten minutes later Jimmy came back with enough food to feed the population of Manitoba. Once everything was laid out on the table he went back to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of some fine Champagne and five flutes.

"To what do we owe this feast?" Emanuel asked.

As he brought a chair over from another table and plunked himself down on it, Jimmy said, "Well, I haven't seen you in a while and next week I'm closing the place for the season. Then I'm heading off to stay with my folks in Florida."

"Wait a minute," Manny said, "I completely forgot. Today's your birthday, isn't it?"

"Guilty as charged," Jimmy stated, his face reddening.

I grabbed one of the Champagne bottles and opened it, filling everyone's glass.

"To friends and any excuse for celebrating life," I said. With that, we clinked our glasses, each of us had a sip, and we dug into the abundance in front of us.

A bit later we were all pretty stuffed, on our third bottle of the bubbly, and feeling no pain. We'd enjoyed a busy half-hour of eating, drinking, and talking.

Now, we all became quiet, listening to the music and watching the wind and waves in the harbor.

The group was playing one of the songs from the show that starts quietly, builds slowly, and moves to a new key with each verse. With each recommencement, they were improving their sound and by the fifth or sixth run-through the music was beautiful and actually touching.

Waking the rest of us from his or her individual la-la land, Manny asked quietly, "So, Simone, how big are those babies?"

It took the rest of us a beat or two to return to the reality of the here and now. I glanced over at Simone who simply looked stoic as though she had immediately disregarded the question. Con gave Manny a poke in the ribs, saying, "You creep! First of all, it's rude to ask a woman anything personal, but asking her bra size is completely, just plain wrong, crude, and boorish. Second, it's none of your business and you shouldn't be looking at them anyway. And, that's an insult to me, baby. I'm the one you love."

She emphasized the word "love" slowly as she gripped Manny's muscular upper arm.

I was at a loss for words as was Jimmy. Simone, though, had begun smiling, at first with humor, but then the smile turned to one of rehearsed allure, like a pole dancer smiling at a customer.

The music was at the part of the song where it was building again. Simone arose from the table and slowly started to entertain the table with a slow bump and grind. It surprised me how good she was at it; her movements seemed not to be something she'd just come up with. She did a few kicks – as much as her tight jeans permitted – and even stretched her arms over her head, emphasizing her breasts which, from down here at table level, seemed like I was looking at a binary star, two gigantic globes under her sweater.

After dancing for a couple of minutes, she slowly began to lift off her sweater, revealing the bottom of a blue t-shirt underneath. When she'd pulled the sweater up to near breast level she turned her back to us and rotated her terrific hard little butt, continuing to remove the sweater over her head.

She slowly turned around, holding the sweater over her chest. Then, in perfect timing as the music climaxed, she flung the sweater at me, showing off those two orbs covered only by a bra over which was the aforementioned, but now noticeably and delightfully tight, blue t-shirt that had a large pink arrow pointing up to her chin. Over the arrow covering most of her chest were the words "I'm up here!" in big black letters.

It took a second or two for everyone to get the joke as Simone stood there staring at Emanuel with a playful scowl, followed by a sincere smile as we all laughed.

"You're right, Con," Simone said, sitting down again, "a man should never ask a woman her age, her bra size, her shoe size, her weight, or anything else that's personal. If she wants to volunteer that information, well, that's OK, but he should never ask." She paused for a second to glance in my direction. "In fact, although he was fascinated with my bra size when we met, I still think Ed's never looked at one to see the size. Have you?"

Again, she turned to look at me and I just shook my head, no.

Still seeing Simone's gyrations in my head, I was surprised how excited it had gotten me. Then, in my inebriated state, I surprised myself by raising one hand and saying out loud, "OK. Who's got a hard-on?"

Jimmy and Emanuel both raised their hands too. Con and Simone were a little stunned at first and then, Con asked, "You mean, just that little bit of Simone's boob and booty shaking gave all three of you hard-ons?"

We all sheepishly nodded in agreement.

Con and Simone looked at one another and smiled. Then Con said, "Well, in my book a good hard-on should never go to waste."

"I'd second that normally," conceded Simone, "but I don't think I can eat another thing right now. I'd be delighted to watch, though."

Then she added, "Have you ever had three at a time?" and nodded to Consuela with a knowing smile.

Showing surprise, Con said, "Oh, well, um, that wasn't exactly what I meant. I mean, I've had some busy days and nights, but I've never had sex with more than one guy at a time."

Though silent, I could just tell that all of us guys were getting very excited by the idea of the three of us boning Consuela at the same time. I wasn't sure exactly how we were going to do it, but it sounded more than a little exciting.

No one said a word for a bit until Jimmy eventually popped up and ran back to the kitchen saying, "I've got just the thing."

Simone, Consuela, Emanuel, and I looked at one another, it seemed, with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. Finally, the discomfort caused all of us to slowly turn towards the harbor and quietly stare out at the storm.

I began to think about Simone's experiences with having sex with groups of guys. Feeling a little uncomfortable as a wave of jealousy washed over me, I thought: Did she want this? Was I not satisfying her? Was she attracted to Manny or Jimmy?

On the other hand, the idea of seeing her with Manny and Jimmy while I was getting some too was awfully hot.

I'd completely forgotten about him, I'm sure, because of the alcohol, but suddenly Jimmy was back carrying two more bottles of Champagne and a small cloth bag with a draw string top.

"Listen, honey," he said to Con, "I've been in this situation before and I know what you need. Trust me."

"Yeah, sure," Consuela said with apprehension and humor, "how many times have I heard a man say that?"

We all watched with curiosity as Jimmy opened the bag and set out its contents. In the flash of an eye he had finished his very fine handiwork.

"My grandfather, the guy who built this place was an older hippie, back in the sixties, and he taught me how to do a lot of things, one of them being 'The Rolling of the Joint,'" Jimmy said with reverence. He next lit a match, took a few tokes, and handed it to Consuela.

"I don't know, Jimmy," she said, staring at the perfectly rolled joint. "I don't do drugs. And it's been years since I smoked a J."

"I've seen women who've been reluctant to try something new, sexually I mean, and after they smoke – and go for it, of course – they thank me."

We were all pretty wasted with the four or five bottles of champagne we'd drunk. The band was having a good time; the harbor was a sea of whitecaps. We were warm, horny, dry, and from the way Simone was casually rubbing my leg, I'll bet at least a few of us were wet, too. Even with the two or three orgasms I'd had already today (and the four last night), I was uncomfortably aware of pre-cum sitting against my leg.

And, I was ready to get a piece of Consuela!

I had a brief pang of guilt, of feeling that I was somehow devaluing my relationship with Simone. Thankfully, three seconds later that passed. Hey, I thought to myself, I didn't hear her complaining. She was the one who'd had the multiple partners at a time, not I.

While Consuela started the perfectly rolled joint and it was being passed around the table, I got up, uncomfortably – because of my hard dick – walking over to the window and began to think about the differences between men and women. Of course, there are an infinite number but we're also exactly alike in a larger number of ways, ironic ones too.

Simone could, from what she'd told me, suck a bunch of men in one, pardon the expression, "sitting" and come each time one came in her mouth, time after time, and maybe even some in between.

A man might be able to come a few times in a night.

The other side of this, though, is how most women are not interested in sex 24/7, most want so much more than just sex. Whereas men, the very creatures who can only come a few times in an evening, fantasize about women all the time, thinking they'd like "to do" one every minute or two.

How sucky is that? Imagine a world where every guy could actually have his fantasy of thinking about all the women he sees on the street, at the office, at school – and then actually having the ability to have sex with them right there and then.

Sounds great, right?

It would totally suck! Before you even got to your office in the morning, you'd have shot your load – both figuratively and literally – for the morning.

Or at least until your coffee break!

You might have screwed one woman on the subway, gotten a blowjob from one on the street, and then tit-fucked another while waiting for your morning bagel. And this is all before you even got to your office. You might not even be able to get it up for the new receptionist – or even if you could you, you might be so sore that it'd hurt like hell.

By the time I had really worked through these momentous thoughts I was staring at nothing, really, just the darkened water with no boats, nor birds, just a few cars passing over the bridge under the tenebrific sky.

The band was now playing some sort of waltz, strange for a Broadway show, but I wasn't exactly a critic. I turned around to share my thoughts with the group, the smell of pot heavy in the warm air, and literally bumped into Simone. She'd just walked over to stand by me at the window.

"Um, what do you think?" she asked me.

After our discussions of last night and early this morning, I knew precisely about what she asking.

"I don't know. I always had a nice time in the sack with Consuela," I responded. "Do you think it'd be weird? You know, seeing me with her?"

"Well, let me ask you the same thing. I mean, I don't feel like sex at the moment – I ate way too much – but, well, you know, if everyone starts getting involved...

"I mean, what's girl gonna do? I suppose I could make room for a little dessert," she continued. "Actually, I'm getting wet just thinking about the cum from three of you and seeing your hard cocks – yours being the best, I'm sure – could get me started.

"And we mustn't forget that it is Little Jimmy's birthday..."

This was at once terrifying and totally smokin'. Here was this babe who, for some unknown reason, had decided she liked me and I'm about to share her with my friends. Was I nuts or was this an awesome fantasy, an event in my life that I'd regret at some point if I said "no?"

I really dug down inside to see what I was truly feeling but just then Consuela yelled out, "Hey, Ed, if I'm going to do this I want all three of you. Bring that big dick of yours over here and let me play pick-up-sticks."

Simone looked at me, laughed, took my hand, and as we walked back to the table she began unzipping my fly.

The three of them had put two medium sized square tables (with four legs, not the kind with the column in the center) together and Jimmy had rounded up a bunch of navy blue tablecloths.

How thoughtful, I remember thinking, that in their shared, besotted, stoned stupor, they had considered Consuela's comfort on her back. But it is amazing what a guy will do to get some, so maybe my accolades for their thoughtfulness was a little misguidedly generous.

The three of them obviously had no second thoughts at all. Con was wearing only a black thong, her cute, firm tits sitting high just like I remembered them. She had no bikini line and areolas lighter than you would have thought with her moderate pigmentation. Regardless, her nipples were very glad to see everyone.

She was sitting in her chair with her back to the table and overlooking the bay. Emanuel was standing on one side of her and Jimmy was on the other, both of them completely naked save for their socks. She was doing some of her own tongue tricks to the two cockheads that were currently dueling in her wide-open mouth.

"Oh, wow," said Simone, untying the laces of her boots. "You've got to admire a couple of good looking cocks and you boys certainly have those."

Consuela took the two guys' cocks off her tongue but kept rubbing them along her lips, saying, "And tasty, with just the right amount of saltiness."

Simone had removed her boots and was snuggling out of her jeans. She was now naked below the waist, except for a pair of dark pink (A woman would have probably have called them "rose" or "mauve," but what the hell did I know?) bikini panties just sticking out below her blue t-shirt.

She pulled up a chair right in front of the trio and reached for the cocks. Con must have felt comfortable with her new best friend and the two of them were licking and mouthing the two cocks simultaneously, their mouths so close they occasionally tongued each other during their joint ministrations.

For a second or two, I was going to use the pun on the word "joint" to make a joke, but it dissipated before I could form a cohesive line. It was then I realized that the alcohol and THC had me in their grip. Those bastards!




Deep Secret Ch. 11 - Storm



I was emotionally neutral watching the stimulating tableau before me. Dark skinned Emanuel on one side, red-headed Jimmy on the other standing as naked as the day they were born (except for the aforementioned socks), with light brown-skinned Consuela facing me as well as the back of Simone's short blond haired head. They were a mini-United Nations of colors.

Deciding that I simply could not figure out if this was going to be emotionally damaging to me or not, I just put it out of my mind. The hell with it, I thought. When you have the option of having sex with a group of like-minded people why turn it down? There'll always be the "I was so ripped I don't remember a thing" excuse if it goes sour, but there was no indication that was going to happen.

Though Jimmy and Emanuel would probably have been staring at one another if they'd been straight (I mean, as in "not stoned"), at this moment each was enjoying watching Simone's and Consuela's mouths work on their cocks.

After a few minutes – during which I realized the band had begun to play again – Emanuel said, "Oh baby, I've just got to see those boobs. How about it? You're killing me here?"

"So, are you just a tit man or is it that you've never seen them this big in person?" Simone asked him in an uncharacteristically bold manner.

"Baby, I don't give a damn what size bra you wear. I really couldn't give a crap. Well, at least I don't at the moment. I just want to see them. I need to see them!"

Simone took his now dripping cock from Consuela and pulled it into her mouth. She ever so slowly sucked him in, deeper and deeper, inch by inch, until her nose was firmly pressed against his abdomen. Then she did her licking the balls trick.

Though I don't remember ever feeling that I wasn't big enough when I was with a woman, I did start to compare the two other cocks in this little cabal to mine. After just a few moments I decided I could hold my own (as it were) to the current company of men. Then I began to think about how easily Simone took Manny's cock down her throat. She did it with no problem at all, just had she had always done with me. I began to wonder where she'd learned to do that.

No woman I'd ever known intimately had been able to deep throat me and even the women I'd seen in porn rarely showed Simone's facility. Often they looked like they were doing a trick and after they showed they could do it once, it was over they were done with it. They almost always appeared to have to work at it. With Simone it was as though my cock down her throat was giving her pleasure – the farther the better.

And, anyway, with Simone, being a big and frequent shooter was so much more important than size. For her the excitement was in my orgasm and its male fluids. The cock was just the means to the end. 

But, I digress: All three of them stopped in their tracks, amazed that she could so easily take Manny's cock down her throat. He let out a groan that I was sure the band heard over their music downstairs at the other end of the spacious place. I can't even describe his sound, but I certainly knew what the feeling was like when she was doing it.

She kept it up for another minute or more, though it seemed much longer. Obviously, to me at least, she wasn't going to do anything else until she had a mouthful of semen. And, after a little more pressure just maintaining him in her throat, she pulled him out. Took a breath and began fucking his cock with her face.

That probably sounds weird, but there's no other way to describe it. Her head began slowly to move off and on his cock, but quickly she built up speed so that she was pulling off just to the point of her lips on the edge of his cockhead and then she'd plunge down on him, down to the root. She did this repeatedly for at least a couple of minutes. I think most other women would have gagged, become exhausted, or thrown up, but not Simone. She had her eyes closed and knew this was what she wanted. And when she wanted something, nothing stood in her way!

Soon, we all knew that Manny was about to blow his load. He was moaning. She was moaning. Consuela had one hand rubbing herself under her thong and was staring at the amazing sight not six inches from her eyes. Jimmy was pulling on his cock, probably imagining how Manny might have been feeling at the moment.

I was surprised to find that, at some point, I had taken my cock out and was fervently jacking off too.

Simone began to come even before Emanuel did, but she knew it was an inexorable event for them both. As their sounds became ever more frenzied, you could see Simone's body writhing and tensed with the ecstatic throes of her climaxes.

And then along came Manny!

He grabbed Simone's head and, if it was even possible, shoved it even closer to his body, his dick nowhere to be seen. You could see his body jerk rapidly four or five times. You could see Simone's currently oversized throat respond. Then he jerked several more times, but at a decelerating pace.

While he was slowing down, Simone was slowly pulling him out of her mouth. Finally he shot a few last jets with only a few inches of his quite long and very hefty dark cock in her mouth. Simone was somewhere else. Her eyes shut tightly. Her body beginning to relax, enjoying the waves of cum in her mouth and her own climax shooting throughout that amazing body.

At last, Manny pulled himself out, probably feeling that overly sensitive head thing that most men experience.

Simone made sure she didn't lose any of the precious juice she was keeping in her mouth.

"Oh, shit," said Emanuel.

"Oh, shit, oh, shit," ejaculated Jimmy, ejaculating – and not a moment prematurely – all over the other side of Simone's face with a huge jet of semen.

Realizing there was new fresh cum just an inch or two away, Simone jerked her head back – so as not to lose any of the semen pooling in her mouth – and grabbed Jimmy's cock just as his second spurt began. Part of it hit the top of her lip and dribbled down into her mouth. This was followed by at least six or seven more large shots aimed directly onto her tongue.

From what I've seen in porn videos it looked like she had cum from a dozen guys in her mouth, but I knew it was just two very horny friends of mine who'd done the honors.

Before I realized it she'd spun around, disregarding the other three, kept her head tilted back, pointed a finger at her awfully full mouth and said something like, "More, please" to me.

As I've rhetorically asked before, who was I to deny this precious young thing what she most desired? Just seeing the delight in her eyes, the cum on her face and spilling around in her mouth, the happy eyes, shining with pleasure, was more than enough to make me shoot for her.

It wasn't a huge load, but given that I'd had two orgasms since we'd awoken five or six hours ago, it was nevertheless a commendable contribution to Simone's cum compilation.

I came for what seemed a long time, though, and she did the same. Finally, she kissed my cockhead and sat still for another half-minute or so while her orgasms continued to please her – and the rest of us watching her unique sensory system.

The three of us guys all decided, simultaneously, just as the band began to play again, that we would be better off sitting and sit we did. Plop, onto the nearest chair. Consuela had stopped rubbing herself and seemed to have an air of satisfaction on her face, her eyes still closed, but smiling.

We all sat quietly for a moment or two as a new piece of music began to slowly build and get slightly more energetic.

It was at that moment that Simone put her head all the way back and gargled with her mouthful of cum. The four of us laughed, nervously at first, and then naturally, enjoying the sexiness of being naked and sharing this experience.

When the laughter died down, there was a moment of silence. Then, as if choreographed, Simone got up, closed her mouth, her blue eyes smiling at me, and began to dance wearing just her blue "I'm up here!" t-shirt and her dark pink panties.

Just watching her move her hips sensuously in time to the slow steady beat was an absolute turn-on. I know she'd never done that before with me. In fact, I don't think we'd ever even danced together.

She gyrated for one chorus or so and then as the music changed key, the beat moving to a shuffle rhythm, she began to slowly pull off her t-shirt.

Everyone's eyes – Consuela's included – could not look at anything but her chest. The t-shirt moved up far enough to expose the bottom of a black lace underwire bra. Just as she began to reveal the lower portion of each of those two cantaloupes sitting on her chest, she whipped the t-shirt over her head, giving us all a stunning moment to stare at her. Then, in a split second she spun around, continuing to shake those beautiful hips and butt in time to the music, looking like a cross between a ballet dancer and a belly dancer.

One hand reached back and in a flash, the bra's band was opened. Then, still with her back to us, she pulled it down and off her arms, letting it fly behind her, landing on the table behind Consuela.

Her bare back was very sexy with just those panties covering a miniscule portion of her delectably cute ass, her long legs still moving to the music as though in a different world.

I had kind of expected that she'd do one of those things that I've seen strippers do, holding their boobs in each hand, playing with the audience before ultimately showing their chests.

Simone, always one to keep me guessing, did the opposite.

While still moving, but gently now with only a small amount of shaking, Simone turned towards us. As she did so, she slowly moved her arms up, her hands delicately tracing an imaginary trail along the side of her pale smooth body. By the time she was directly facing the group, her hands were just at the level of her tits moving upward, just slightly pressing against their outsides with the back of her hands. They kept going up until they were way above her head, arched outward, her hips still swaying to the music.

I don't think I'd ever seen her naked from this far away, certainly not while she was entertaining me. It was truly a sight to behold.

Her long slender calves led up to her even longer, strong, but slender thighs. From there her hips swelled out a little, still covered by those panties. Then her waist narrowed and your eyes continued up her thin torso until they reached her breasts.

There the eyes stopped. Those tits were mesmerizing. You couldn't look at anything else. Even with that beautiful face, that long thin neck and those crystal blue eyes, all you could see were boobs.

They were a marvel. They were like water balloons that had been glued onto her chest. Their areolas were smack dab in the center, staring straight at the observer, daring him or her to look anywhere else.

You could see why she wouldn't want to try to cover herself with her hands: there was just way too much tit and not nearly enough hand.

The areolas were light, just slightly darker than her fair skin, but still noticeable enough to draw attention to their one-and-a-half or two-inch diameter. Her nipples, too, seemed very happy to be enjoying their outing, pointing straight at anyone and everyone who might be watching.

It was each boob's roundness that was amazing. If you didn't know better – OK, if I didn't know better – I'd have been sure they were fake. Real breasts simply aren't that round – except in some very small percentage of the population.

And, when they're so huge, the nipples – or even the breasts themselves – almost always begin to sag and/or point downward...

Except for this amazing young woman who at this moment was still dancing to the beat of the live music coming up from downstairs.

She moved a little around the table, smiling at everyone as she took Jimmy's head and pressed it between her boobs, shimmying for all. Then she did the same for Manny and for me.

When she got in front of Consuela, she picked up her hands and pressed them on the underside of each breast. Con knew that she wanted to feel them too. She caressed the bottoms as Simone's own hands caressed their tops.

Wanting more, Consuela moved in to suck first on one of Simone's nipples and then the other. She'd also begun to rub herself again with one hand, using her other to continue her tit massaging.

In no time Consuela got hot again and you could see she was about to come, enjoying her sucking of Simone's nipples.

I'd never seen two women do things to one another in real life, though, like most men I'd always had at least a little fantasy about it now and then. This, however, was so hot because I'd slept with both of them. They both had beautiful bodies and...

Just then things got even sexier.

As Con began to climax, she gasped a little for air, taking her mouth off Simone's nipple. A second later, her climax hit its peak. It was at that moment that Simone opened her mouth, just a little, as if to put in a straw. Then slowly she began to dribble the cum that was still in her mouth down onto her right breast.

Con's eyes were still closed, but she felt the warm liquid begin to run down her left cheek. Without missing a beat or even a drop she opened her eyes and her mouth simultaneously, sticking out her tongue to caress Simone's boob and languorously to lick up the flowing semen, still slowly oozing out of Simone's mouth, down her lower lip, and off her chin.

That scene is etched in my mind. I don't think I'll ever forget that beautiful, sexy, and utterly amazing image. It's one thing to see these fantasies in porn. It's a whole different thing seeing two beautiful women do it right in front of your eyes.

In the darkened afternoon light, highlighted with the few flickering candles, tall, slender, and lovely blond Simone standing over dark, feisty, and beautiful Consuela, exchanging the essence of our three orgasms appeared to be a setting fit for De La Tour or even Caravaggio.

But their work, I'm sure, never qualified for an X rating!

The mini-Niagara Falls of cum continued for a long time. I had no idea she had so much in her mouth. It almost appeared to flow in slow motion. Consuela kept on licking and consuming the white juice as it continued to pour out of Simone's mouth over her enormous breast and bullet-like nipple.

I know that I (and probably all the others there with Y chromosomes) began to get hard again, but was thrown off by a surprised voice saying "Holy crap!"





Deep Secret Ch. 12 - Head



Holy crap, my ass!

We were all just, for a lack of any more discrete way of putting it, screwing around, having a wonderful time, with Simone and Consuela – who, by the way, were having a wonderful time with Simone's boobs and the cum she'd orally accumulated – when this bass player had the nerve to interrupt our interminglings with his "Holy crap!"

His interjection caused the three of us guys to turn. He'd apparently taken the back stairway and had just arrived at the landing to see Consuela lapping at Simone's enormous and incredibly firm breasts and at the semen she'd slowly let dribble down her slightly puckered lips, off her chin, and onto the breast that Consuela was sucking at the moment.

So, he'd seen us. Big deal. It wasn't like we were doing anything illegal or even immoral. We were all adults and consenting. If he got his rocks off watching, let him.

All of this ran through my brain in a second or two and then I returned my attention to the hot show our two women were putting on for us.

To tell the truth, I don't think either of them even heard the bassist during our intermezzo, interrotto. (I know, I know, a very esoteric reference to Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra.  Mea culpa.) So, it was currently the four of us guys staring at the ladies lovingly licking and lapping to the beat of their own drummer.

Eventually Simone swallowed what was left of the cum in her mouth. Then she leaned down to give Consuela a kiss that was long enough to share as much of the cum that was on her face and around her mouth, without actually seeming like a true lesbian encounter. Regardless, it made all of us even hotter, Simone's breasts falling vertically away from her body as she bent forward made for even more excitement, not to mention the perfection of their form.

Sitting down, facing Consuela, Simone said, "That was so cool. I love getting my boobs licked."

"You know, I've never done that before," Consuela said. "I've never really had a strong feeling about the taste of cum too much, but that was such as turn on, I couldn't get enough of it."

"It's the elixir of life, as far as I'm concerned," Simone responded.

"Now I can't believe how sore I am," Consuela said, gently touching her pussy.

Her hand had been going a hundred miles an hour beneath her thong. No wonder she was sore. I thought she might have rubbed the damn thing off the way she was going!

"You know," Simone said, "I don't think I've ever had cum I didn't like. I mean every guy has his own unique flavor and richness. And even with one guy on a per come basis it changes. But whenever I get a new load, it gives me such pleasure I don't need – and usually don't even want – any stimulation. I just want to see, smell, and taste the semen and its slimy texture. That's what gets me off."

"You mean, you came just by us coming in your mouth?" Jimmy asked her.

"Did I?" she responded. "You couldn't tell? It's been some time since I've had three guys come for me, all at the same time, like that. It's a wonderful treat."

We all just sat there, looking at this sex goddess with the largest boobs – especially on her slender frame – I'd ever seen, as she licked around her mouth and then went after whatever was on her boobs that Con had missed. Clearly she'd not yet had her fill.

"So, Tom, what can I do for you?" asked a very relaxed – at least for a guy, naked – Jimmy.

"Oh, um, uh..." said the new arrival, his intelligence and wit confirming everything I'd heard about bass players.

"Was there something you wanted?" Jimmy asked him louder, but slowly.

"Uh, yes. Yep. Uh... Look at the size of those huge jugs! I've never seen anything like that in my life. Your nipples and those, uh, things are just perfectly gigantic," Tom managed to put – finally – several words together to make most of a sentence or two.

"Well, I guess I'll take that as a complement," Simone said to him in a nonchalant fashion, still wearing only those dark pink panties. "Anyway, they're mine. Not much I did to get 'em. When I was younger they just started to grow and they kept on growing."

"Let's just take a peek at this here big ol' lacey black boulder hold- " Emanuel said reaching for Simone's bra that had been flung onto the table.

Before he reached it though, Consuela grabbed it and tossed it to Simone, saying "What did I tell you about asking a women about her personal information?"

"Aw jeez, I wasn't asking anything..." Manny responded with a grin, but sheepishly shaking his head in disappointment.

Finally, Tom managed to tell us why he'd come upstairs. Apparently Jimmy had offered to make the band members a meal this afternoon. Now that they'd been rehearsing for a couple of hours, they wanted a late lunch.

"OK, let me go find something to whip up for you guys," Jimmy said as he meandered, still naked, off to the kitchen.

After he left, Tom went downstairs, the look of disbelief and excitement still on his face. Frankly, I'm surprised he made it safely.

The four of us continued discussing orgasms and how we each enjoyed this shared human experience in our own unique ways.

"I think I sometimes focus – in my mind, at least – on a guy's balls. They're the amazing machines that help to produce that great stuff. But, when a guy actually shoots I want to be there to catch that white liquid.

"You know, sometimes I just ask Ed in the middle of his studying to take a break and jerk off for me. That's what's so great about him. He's always willing to give me a load. He's jerked off on my tongue, in my hand, all over himself, in his hand, and on a whole variety of foods. As long as I get to lick it up and taste it, I'm a happy camper."

"You really are a fantasy woman, aren't you?" Con asked her. "I mean, every guy I've ever known would do something Faustian to have a woman like you: blond, tall and thin, great legs, cute little butt, monumental mamms. And, who'd give him blowjobs all day long."

"And she deep throats, too," Emanuel added.

"Yeah, I forgot," said Con. "That was amazing. I've only seen a few women do that – and only in videos. I've tried it, in fact, I try to do it a lot of the time, but I can only get a few inches. I think it's such a sexy thing to do to a man, but once I push to a certain point I tend to gag. A few times I actually threw up. It was nasty." She paused to catch her breath. "So how do you do it?"

"Well, it's something I've just always been able to do," Simone said. "I remember trying to please my first boyfriend. He and I were both new to sex. He told me that my sucking felt good especially when I took him deep. I told him I'd try to take him deeper and suddenly my face was getting tickled by his pubes. And, when he came like that, I came with him. It was even better than regular sex."

"So, it's not like you tried to learn it?" Consuela asked.

"No, I've never really had to work at it. Once or twice, if a guy's pushing at the wrong angle, I've had to stop because I'll start to feel like I might gag. But, usually a cock'll just go right down. Plus, I find that a guy comes more when he gets way down my throat for a while. I found this thing I can do to, I don't know how to explain it, but I sort of massage it with my throat while his cock is in it. Then the guy'll come quarts."

After a moment's pause, Manny said to me, "Can I borrow her sometime? Please?"

"Hey," I said, "Simone's independent. I don't own her. She does what she wants. Of course, I know where you live and I can – OK, I know some guys who can – hurt you," I kidded him.

"Come on, baby," Simone told him. "Bring that thing over here if you're feeling unloved."

Manny got up and walked to Simone's chair. He was semi-soft – or, I suppose semi-hard, depending on what was going to happen next.

Simone took him in her hand and said, "He is really a sweet cock, isn't he?"

Then, as if talking to a dog, she said to it, "Who's a good boy? Yes, who's a good boy? You're a good boy, aren't you? You're a good boy."

While we all chuckled, she took him completely into her mouth and from some pulsing of her cheek I assumed she was giving him a tongue massage. When she pulled him out a minute or so later, he was at least eight inches long. He now qualified as "hard and getting longer."

It was impressive seeing that thing leave her mouth, almost like a clown pulling a handkerchief out of his sleeve that is tied to another and another...

I can't say that I was 100% comfortable with what I'd just said about Simone being independent and doing whatever she wants. We'd been going out for a couple of months and it was exclusive for me. I assumed it was for her too, but I'd never asked. Now, here she is sucking two other guys and right in front of me.

On the other hand, I was not giving her a lot of my time. I'd been so busy with work and with grad school that about the only thing we did together was – 

Hmm. Now that I thought about it: the only things we did when we were together were eating, working out, and Simone giving me blowjobs. Not much to base a real a relationship on, is it?

I began to think about what she did when she wasn't with me, my jealousy meter beginning to rise along with my cock at the sight of her licking Manny's balls while he was completely in her mouth and down her throat. At that moment, Jimmy came back saying he was going to bring some food downstairs for the guys in the band.

It was an unnecessary declaration, though, as a bunch of guys all showed up echoing the same sentiment Tom the bass player had said not too long ago.

"Shee-it!"

"Holy fuck!"

"My god!"

Finally finished with their collection of exclamations, the six of them grabbed chairs around the seated Simone and standing Manny, giving one of the most compelling sexual displays this side of the annual adult entertainment awards.

It was difficult for me to think about relationship issues when there was such a display of inordinately sexually charged energy right in front of me. Without even asking, the six guys all began to take off their clothes. It seemed reasonable with the four of us mostly naked already.

The band tried to crowd around Simone and she did smile at the array of cocks surrounding her. She sucked each of them in turn literally as she just moved slightly in her chair sucking each of the seven of them surrounding her. She was certainly in her element. There was an attitude of savoir-faire about her as she smiled at me with her eyes twinkling and sucking on cock after cock like a chocoholic at the Mars factory.

One of the guys was so excited that he started coming just as she moved to the next one. Two or three of the spurts hit the side of her face before she managed to let go of the one in her mouth and grab the one spewing its white sauce at her. It amazed everyone to see her visibly have an orgasm as the guy's cock continued to explode in her mouth.

Once he stopped, he pulled out quickly as her nonstop sucking appeared to be a little too much stimulation for him.

The other guys just watched in awe as she bubbled the cum in her mouth and between her teeth. She reached over to the table and grabbed her empty champagne flute. Putting it under her chin she made a show of letting his orgasm cascade down her lip, down her chin, and into the glass.

"Oh, boy, that was great," she said. "Thank you."

"Hey, babe, I'm glad you enjoyed that. I certainly did," the guy said. "My name is Donald, by the way. Wow, what a mouth you've got. Not to mention those jugs."

"I'm glad you like that, I mean, them, all of them," she said and shimmied her boobs, just a little, for all to see. "I'm Simone."

That caused each of the guys to stroke his own cock more intensely in her direction, hoping she'd "do him" next.

As Jimmy and Consuela walked over with two huge trays of food (I hadn't even noticed she'd left, but I don't think anyone else had either – including Manny.), we heard the front door open and shut. Then a female voice from downstairs said, "Jimmy? Jimmy? Where are you? Where is the orchestra?"

"Oh, shit," said Tom, "I forgot that Celia was coming."

"Who's Celia?" several asked.

"She's the new understudy," Tom said, "and she's here to have a run-through with us. Let me go downstairs. I don't want her coming up here. If she knew about this, it would not be cool."

Fortunately, Donald, the guy who'd just come, was the piano player. And, clearly a very nice guy because he said, "No, Tom, you stay here and have your fun. I know I did and this is one piece of woman you get once in a lifetime, if you're lucky! I'll go run through the show with her. You guys come when you can" then he hesitated for effect, "after you've come, of course!"

"Yeah, OK, just don't let her up here," Tom said, sticking his cock deeper into Simone's extraordinary throat. "Oh, fuck! That's awesome."

Donald got himself dressed and went downstairs. A few minutes later he was accompanying the newly arrived singer at the piano and she began singing the songs they'd been rehearsing throughout the day. Now they had lyrics.

By now, Tom was ready to come and Simone – of course – knew it was about to happen. She pulled him out completely and said, "Just jerk off in my mouth, please."

Then she put her head back a little. Her gaze remained on the head of his cock while he and two or three of the others crowded around, each jerking off at a breakneck pace.

It was good that downstairs Celia was singing and Donald playing because up here each one of the guys gave out a cry as he came in Simone's wonderful and welcoming maw. Within the space of twenty seconds or less, five of them came, creating a large white pool in her mouth, nearly burying her tongue.

She played with the cum with such delight in her eyes, I know I've never seen such a display of honest and pure joy from any porn actress in videos. She swished it around, bubbled it up and around her lips, then she slurped it back in. Simone also did this thing where she'd let some of the white stuff begin to drip over her lower lip and down what would, I guess, be called the soul patch area toward her chin. Then, she would slurp it all up cleanly just before it would have dribbled out of her oral grasp. Just as one of the two remaining band members who hadn't yet come, grabbed one her boobs and exclaimed something like, "They're enormous!" the other moved closer and seemed to be on the verge of his own climax.

Simone quickly cupped both of her hands under her chin, letting all the cum she'd already accumulated flow down onto the makeshift vessel, as the guy came with large, heavy, rapid shots into her mouth. This caused her on-going climaxes to reach an even higher peak and she began almost to laugh at how excited she'd become and, apparently, from how good she felt.

Taking his hand off her boob and holding his good-sized dick with both hands, the semen-play display caused the last man standing to shoot his load. 

There was a joke there somewhere, but my alcohol- and pot-addled brain wasn't quite seeing it. However, this thought had me start to think about why Donald hadn't made some kind of a joke referring to the title of the 1960 Truffaut classic film Shoot the Piano Player (or Tirez sur le pianiste in French). It seemed a sure thing: here are six or seven guys all close together about to shoot their loads into the mouth of one young woman – and he's a piano player! I suddenly became very disappointed in the Donald. He should be fired! But again, I digress.

Simone was not quite ready for it or maybe – even with two hands – he was a bad aim. Some shots landed on her nose and upper lip. Only two or three made a landing in her mouth. Nevertheless, she clearly loved every drop.

She played with the cum in her mouth and found a way to drizzle all that was in her hands back into her mouth, not losing one milliliter. After obvious climaxes that seemed to last for a minute or two, she opened her eyes, still playing with and enjoying the mouthful of semen and saliva.

Reaching over for her champagne glass she slowly let all of it cascade into the capacious flute. What startled me was how much there was and how frothy and, even in the dimly lit late afternoon, white it was. I guess I'd never noticed before since porn actresses don't often play with cum for so long – at least not in the porn I'd seen – that when swished and bubbled for so long it seems to mix with the saliva creating a mixture not much different in texture than whipped cream or whipped egg whites.

The thought of what it must taste like briefly grossed me out, but it really looked like something you'd have on top of a dark chocolate mousse cake after a meal.

Simone looked at it like it was a prized treat, raising the glass, letting a little of the cum still in her mouth drip down her chin, making a few drizzlies hang from it. Very sexy.

"Wow, look at all of that!" she exclaimed to the bunch of us. "Hey, Con, did you see – "

She stopped in mid-sentence as we all turned and to see Consuela on her back on the blue tablecloths, the food trays returned to the stands, getting it hard from a reenergized Emanuel, while Jimmy's tired-looking cock was draped across her mouth, her tongue occasionally caressing it from underneath. We'd been so focused on Simone's delicious display of dosage delights that we hadn't noticed the rearrangement.

This bit of sexuality had several of us, no, it actually had all of us (the five remaining bandmembers, the emphasis on the member) hard again in no time. Simone took a quick swig of her glass, downing about half of it and coming some more. When she opened her eyes there were six cocks staring at her.

"Mm-mm," she hummed with a smile. "Give me that."

It was just then that Celia and Donald began working diligently on the eponymous song from the show, Celia having a hard time getting the lyrics right. They were working on the bridge. First she sang, "Come taste the wine, come hear your horn..."

Then after trying to remember it by belting it some more we could hear her sing, "Come hear the band, come blow your horn..." Still not quite right, but getting better, I thought.

Actually, it was a shame that she was only the understudy because she really had a great Broadway voice, but apparently the woman cast as the lead had a better figure or was prettier. Without even seeing her I thought Celia was a perfect choice, but what the fuck did I know?

We continued to half-heartedly listen and get our dicks expertly sucked as Simone was having the time of her life. Before I knew it, I and the rest of the band were all ready to come again. The guy on my left started to come as he was deep in Simone's throat.

He suddenly pulled out and came all over her tongue and lips. His shooting appeared to cause a chain reaction and suddenly all of us were coming at pretty much the same time.

It was then that we could hear Celia sing, "Come taste the wine, come blow the band..."

We heard Donald simply stop playing and start to laugh his ass off, his peals of mirth echoing around the empty hall. This cracked all of us up, including Simone who tried to swallow as much as she could, but wound up laughing uncontrollably, semen overflowing her lovely lips.

It was probably a combination of the unending orgasms, the ridiculousness of the backward, almost spooneristic, song lyrics, and the semen shooting all over her face, but she just kept on laughing like I'd never seen her before.

Oh, and the pot and alcohol may have helped, too.

The guys continued to laugh and laugh as they sat back down, enjoying the spectacle of Simone's swaying breasts and cum drizzles off her nose and chin. Without a moment's pause she began scooping all of the cum on her face down into her mouth, coming all the while, and smiling like a cover girl for Women's Semen Weekly.




Deep Secret Ch. 12 - Head



When it was over and Simone had sucked up all the semen she could find, Consuela, wearing little more than a beautiful post-coital smile, alit from the table, walked over to the seated Simone. She pulled up a chair and they proceeded to kiss, lick, and exchange the remainder of Simone's cum coating.

"I can't believe what a turn-on this is," Con said.

"For me too," said Simone with difficulty as Con's tongue had hers preoccupied, "I hate letting good cum go to waste."

Even though it was a turn-on watching the two of them go at it, the rest of us were pretty well spent. It was a scene I'll never forget, but my cock wasn't terribly responsive.

It took some time for the two of them to get it all and finally to calm down. Eventually all of us, but especially the ladies, used the tablecloths to clean up whatever required cleaning.

It was past four PM when the band members went down to work with Celia. Jimmy poured everyone one last glass of champagne and the five of us sat quietly, recalling the surprising sexual events of the afternoon.

"Girl, you are one amazing woman," Consuela said to Simone as we started to get ready to leave.

"So I've been told," Simone replied.

"You hold on to this one, you idiot," Con chided me with a smile.

"I intend to," I said as we bade our goodbyes and walked back to our cars.

"'Come blow the band!' Can you believe she sang that? What great timing. If she doesn't make it as a singer, she can surely do stand-up. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard. And certainly never with that much cum in my mouth!" Simone said.

We walked for a moment in silence as I reached for her hand. "You were so hot. Watching you casually laugh and enjoy yourself with all of that cum all over your face, your terrific tits bouncing and swaying. Man, just like Consuela said: you are one amazing woman."

"I'm just glad I remembered to run back upstairs as we were walking out and grab that champagne glass before Jimmy brought it back to the kitchen. You know, just standing there, by myself, looking out at the darkening harbor, that glassful of cooling cum gave me another orgasm that was so big I had to sit down.

"Then, Jimmy came in and I gave him a special quickie deep throat birthday blowjob as a birthday present. He had me all to himself. Do you know he really came a lot and it was probably like his third or fourth one today? He's quite a comer.

"Speaking of which, I think I swallowed about 20 loads today. Those band guys were really horny; each of them came at least twice. Then between Jimmy, Emanuel, and you, all I can say is 'Wow!' You know how to show a gal a great time."

Five or six weeks ago if I weren't feeling jealous enough to punch someone out, I might have felt guilty that Simone hadn't even gotten laid or had her pussy licked today. But, I knew her well enough now to know that she'd come basically all afternoon and almost never wanted to fuck. Just give her a cock to suck and she was in sex heaven.

There was nothing to say but, "You are wonderful, you know that?"

I had found the perfect woman. Little did I know at that moment in what other ways she was perfect.





Deep Secret Ch. 13 - Underwater



Let me take a moment to get my thoughts straight. I want to tell the rest of the story clearly, but there are some items that are now fuzzy, some items I was unable to figure out, and some items that I never discovered nor could even piece together.

Through it all, though, Simone never stopped proving how amazing she was during the time we knew one another.

As I've said previously, Simone had been on my mind since Amanda and I began our Hawaiian vacation several weeks ago. After returning from the trip, we had a few days to relax. It's probably counterintuitive, but I've always felt that it's worth taking a slightly shorter vacation to have a few days of buffer between the end of a vacation and the return to the workaday world.

We did that at the end of this trip, too. The family took it easy. It was fun to see and play with the kids again. It was nice to see they'd missed us. Amanda's parents had spoiled them as only grandparents can and we all enjoyed the warmth of being together again.

The previous night Amanda had put the kids to sleep early and the two of us screwed like teenagers. I'd managed to come three times -- once in her mouth -- and I lost count of how many orgasms Amanda'd had. It was some of our best sex ever, in fact. Thoughts of Simone had not entered my mind: Amanda was hot -- and not just for a MILF!

Plus, she knew me. Boy, did she know me. If Simone was the perfect woman, Amanda was a saint!

"You've been thinking about Simone a lot lately, haven't you?"

"Guilty," I answered, as she snuggled against me. "It's been a long time since I thought about her, but something about the vacation brought back memories of the time I spent with her. You're not angry, are you? Or jealous?"

"No," she said candidly. "I suppose I'm envious that I don't have the figure she has, but then again I'm envious that I don't have the figure I used to have."

"Hey, now, don't say that," I said to her. "I was just thinking what a great shape you have -- and not just for a woman who's had kids. I mean you have a great body. Period."

"Yeah, I know; you say that often. And I must admit it feels nice to hear. I also get told that by women when I go to the gym. But I know Simone was more than just an old girlfriend. She has a certain place in your mind, a place that I'll never enter."

Hesitating a moment, apprehensively I told her, "I have to be honest, but, you're right. That's probably true." After giving her a quick kiss I asked her, "Does that upset you?" 

She apparently had decided that there was no use going over this territory again so she redirected the topic a little. She reached for my now-flaccid cock and said, "I only wish I could deep throat this big hard dick of yours. I know that would make you happy."

"Sweetie," I said to her, putting my hand between her legs and working on her very wet and exciting clit to get her off again, "she was a once in a lifetime person. And, I'm amazed at how deep you can take me in your throat. I would never have imagined you could do that when we first met. You never stop providing me with terrific sex."

I focused on her pussy and clit silently. After a minute or two I said, "Who cares what ever happened to Simone? What's true is that you're the person I married, had three great kids with, and made a home with. I love you. You make me complete." I gave her some more kisses along her neck, "And you are one hot babe!"

Amanda hugged me just as her climax began. She put a hand on mine to stop my movements and just held on for dear life. Jeez, she was a sexy woman. Except for Simone, I've never known another woman who could come so easily -- and so often.

"Maybe one day I'll be able to take you all the way down my throat. I know I'm going to keep trying," she said as she drifted off to sleep.

I truly was a lucky man.

The following day was my first day heading back to the office after our wonderful trip. In the morning on the train into the city, as we crossed a bridge, though I rarely took in the sites during my commute, I looked out at the river.

Looking further north I noticed a bridge that reminded me again of that day with Simone. After leaving Little Jimmy's place, we were heading back across the harbor. The rain had slowed a little, but the storm's winds were in full force. We decided to head to one of our favorite Asian restaurants just around the corner from Simone's place.

"Hey," I said to her, interrupting the silence after the short conversation about dinner plans, "what's the story with the guy who came out of the elevator with Mrs. Milford? It seemed like you knew him or that he weirded you out a little."

"Oh, I don't know," she replied, only somewhat convincingly. "He just looked like a guy I used to know. But, what would he be doing with Mrs. Milford, right?"

"Are you sure?" I pressed her. "You kind of freaked. I mean, you lost much of a mouthful of semen and I've never known you to 'waste cum.'"

From the expression on her face and the silent tension in the car, I got the hint that it was time to stop questioning her. OK, so maybe it was more like getting hit with a 2 by 4. Regardless, something was up, but I was not going to discover it at this time. The abrupt change in her mood had made that clear.

In the quiet car I turned on the radio and it was tuned to an oldies station. The Beach Boys were singing a real oldie, "Surfer Girl." This was the kind of slow dance that would have made me ache to dance with Simone if I were a high school kid and she were available for a dance. To be able to hold her and those immense boobs of hers close to me, and do this in front of the whole school... That would have been amazing. Of course, I probably would have been embarrassed by my hard-on, but knowing Simone, she would have been flattered -- and surely excited by it.

We could ride the surf together While our love would grow In my Woody I would take you everywhere I go...

After the modulation to the last chorus, the atmosphere from the passenger side of the car appeared to thaw. Simone suddenly reached over and began slowly stroking my cock through the thick denim of my jeans. It felt good and I began to get aroused again. After the last 24 hours of almost non-stop sex I was surprised I could even get a hard-on! (I began to count my orgasms. Was it 7 or 8? I knew I'd never been so excited by any other woman.) Yet, just by her leaning over a little and softly stroking me, my arousal began anew.

"I can't wait until I can get a hold of this woody. I know exactly where I'd take it," she said to me, cueing off the Beach Boys completely different meaning of the term "woody." I liked the Beach Boys all right, but nothing compared to Simone's impassioned caress.

All I could think about was how cramped my cock was inside my jeans. Since we were almost at the restaurant, more fun with Dick and Simone would have to wait until we got back to her place. 

As the song ended and the announcer came on, Simone looked for a quieter sound, finding a classical station playing something that sounded like early eighteenth century Italian, but Simone knew far more about classical music than I did.

She began to tell me that she thought it was Vivaldi, but admitted that it could be Corelli. As she went on, I thought about the fact that we were going to spend the night at her place. This would allow me the perfect opportunity to find out her bra size. 

I know how childish that sounds, but, though I was in my late 20s, a guy is always a guy. We love numbers. We love statistics.

After the music history lesson ended, we were silent for a few minutes until we found a spot to park about a block from the restaurant and a block in the other direction from her apartment. Then she said, "You know, Ed, I think I reek of man-juice. You probably can't smell it, but I'd like to run back to my place for a quick shower. I mean, the smell of coriander or cumin can't compete with cum."

"I'm really hungry, but I'll say OK only if we shower together," I said, suddenly surprised at the disappearance of my appetite for food.

"Deal. But you realize that it might delay satiating your hunger."

"Somehow, I don't think we're talking about the same thing..." I said, tweaking one of her nipples gently.

Leaning forward a little, into my finger's attention, she responded with an immediate sighed "ooh."

Enough said.

When we got to her place, we stripped quickly and got into her shower, the only shower I've ever known to have instant hot water. I don't know how she got so lucky, but her apartment had the coolest bathroom: neat fixtures, high-tech lighting, and that wonderful shower.

We began washing ourselves individually. She lathered up her short blond hair with some shampoo and then said, "Here, feel this."

"What am I feeling?"

"It's a spot of what a minute ago was dried cum. You can always feel the slimy quality. It's also a little bit of disappointment: it means that there was some of this delicious liquid that I didn't get to taste."

While she was speaking I was having a field day soaping up her breasts, her immense, almost impossible breasts. Each the size of a head of cauliflower or a cantaloupe.

No matter how much attention I paid to them, I always felt a little intimidated by them up close, like there were these two other people in bed with us. Fortunately, they were friendly people, not wanting much but a little bit of attention. I did what I could to make them happy.

With the water cascading down upon me I had my eyes mostly closed. Suddenly I felt her breasts pull away and down -- and out of my grasp.

Before I knew what was happening, the soapy cleavage between my two friends was pressing itself around my cock. I looked down to see Simone on her knees with her breasts completely enfolding my cock. I naturally began to move my hips, pressing forward between them. Her breasts were so large that I could almost fuck them pushing my cock straight forward, right between them and just barely reaching the smooth skin of her sternum.

The full size of Simone's breasts gave her a naturally tight cleavage. There wasn't really any space between them: each one began at almost the same spot in the middle of her chest.

Regardless, she began to help by pressing them even more tightly together, sitting back a little, and leaning her head forward to suck on my head. It was exciting to see her extended nipples, crinkled areolas, and, of course, my cock thrusting in and out of her talented mouth.

The more I thrust, the more excited she became until she was moaning loudly with each one. The sound echoed around the hard walls of the shower as she was taking me deeper and, again, sucking like a machine.

My mind began to wander, thinking about what kind of workout she must have done to develop the facial and throat techniques to make a man feel so wonderful. Then I remembered that she'd told me it just came naturally when she first began giving blowjobs. In fact, she cited some study that said that a large percentage of the population, like 30 or 40 percent, didn't have the gag reflex. It seemed wrong to me, however. How was I so unlucky to have never found one of those women before?

Fortunately, the warm water and one of her hands rubbing all over my abs and chest brought me back from the mind drift.

Of course, it was also her familiar throat that was encasing my cock just like a condom might, only tighter. It felt so wonderful when she did this thing where her tongue and throat felt like they were stroking me, like getting a great hand job from the back of her tongue. I loved it and she knew it. It was a sure thing to make me come in almost no time. And in no time, I was ready to cum again.

She knew it was about to happen, even with the orgasms she'd begun to have several minutes before. With seasoned acumen she moved me slightly around so that the water was not falling on her and, I assumed, she could breath better.

In a moment, I was ready to cum, but she was not quite there, or so I guessed, at least for a biggie. She moved my cock out of her mouth and stroked me with both hands, hard, almost daring me to come right in her face.

Feeling as ready as ever, at least since I'd known her, I started to shoot. My first shot flew several inches onto her outstretched tongue. After that one, she stopped her stroking and just held me tightly, but using her hands to pulsate in time to my muscle contractions. Her timing was so spot on, I felt like I actually could be inside a pussy, but even better. Not only did she know just what to do, she also knew when.

Each successive spurt landed on her tongue, now slightly cupped so that none of my jizz would spill anywhere. Simone was coming along with me as I held onto her neck and shoulders with my hands.

After my strongest spews of semen started to diminish she sucked me into her mouth and ran her tongue around my cock, straining to suck out the last of my emissions.

Eventually the two of us finished our orgasms. She stood up and hugged me. With her a little taller than I we fit pretty well together, but I always had hoped to be several inches taller than my girlfriends. This had been true for most of them, but then along came Simone with her tall and slender (unless you counted the boobs) frame.

It felt so good to hold her next to me in the warm water. Then she pulled away from the shower's flow and took a hand to wipe away a bit of water on her left breast. She opened her mouth just enough to drizzle some of my cum onto the area just above the areola. Next, she rubbed it around, just a little.

"Here," she mumbled, the rest of my semen obvious in her mouth, "feel."

She took my hand and rubbed it on her boob where the semen was. I could understand now what she meant about the sliminess of it. Though it wasn't exactly a turn-on, she wanted me to know what she'd felt earlier when we first got into the shower so she had decided to do a show-and-tell using me as the silent partner.

It was surprising to me that I wasn't sore, but I felt wonderful, especially now watching her swish and then swallow the load in her mouth. She smiled at me, laughing a little in embarrassment at her new bunch of climaxes just from the downward esophageal flow of semen, almost like it was a secret she didn't want anyone to know.

This woman never ceased to amaze me. I gave her a quick hug and a kiss (tasting a little of my semen, always a bit weird, but with Simone everything was a turn-on).

We finally shut off the water, dried ourselves, and walked naked over to the bed for a brief nap. It had been a long, exhausting day filled with almost non-stop orgasms. I had some schoolwork I should probably have done, but it was getting late and we still hadn't had dinner.

"Let's go eat," she said while lying next to me on the bed.

"You sure you want to? It's getting kind of late," I asked her.

"Yeah, it'll do us good to get some nourishment."

"OK," I agreed. We both put on some clean clothes. Simone dressed in all black: panties, bra, jeans, boots, some kind of knit top with long sleeves, and a short leather jacket.

"You look like you're getting ready for a bank heist," I kidded her.

In response she pulled out a pair of black leather gloves and a black wool hat. Now she looked even more like she was planning to case some place for a job. It was a bit eerie how almost sinister she looked, the blond hair vanished under the cap with a dark look on her normally smiling face.

"Come on, you troublemaker," I said to her, "let's go eat."

The rain had stopped by the time we left her building. Yet, we both bundled up against the strong, cold wind. Though Simone's place was nice and convenient, the neighborhood was predominantly businesses and even a few warehouses.

It was pretty deserted here in the evening, strange that just a couple of blocks away the area changed dramatically to a lively well-lit and busy thoroughfare with pedestrian traffic until well after midnight.

Regardless, it felt safe, we were hungry, and heading for a nice dinner.

Never could I have known what new discoveries the evening would bring. 





Deep Secret Ch. 14 - Games



"D'you know it's almost ten o'clock?" I asked her, shivering a little in the cold night air. "I can't believe it's this late. No wonder I'm so hungry." Then I added, with all the subtlety of a freight train balanced with my pride struggling to sing softly, "I also can't believe how many times I've come today."

It appeared I hit a nerve.

"You guys and your numbers," she said, a hint of playful ire in her tone. "What is it? Five, seven, ten? Did you come 2 teaspoons each time? That's 1/3 of an ounce, you know. Or, maybe on the sixth one -- now that you were warmed up, you know, swung that bat around a bit! -- you came 2 tablespoons," she added with growing sarcasm.

Then, in an uncharacteristic gesture she turned to me with her hands on her hips and almost yelled, "That's almost 30 fucking milliliters!" The sudden verbal eruption was followed, with mock sympathy, by "Not bad for a guy who's been on the 'overstressed list.'"

We continued to walk as she tried to calm down, "Can't you just enjoy experiences for themselves? Why do you have to count everything?"

"Well," I tried to rally a defense, "right now, I'm just amazed at how many times I've come in the past 24 hours." Then I added, hoping to calm her sudden mini-rage, "I mean, it's because you're so sexy and so beautiful. And, of course, it's because you're so damn hot! No one's ever turned me on the way you do."

Wow! Even I couldn't believe my feeble attempt at reconciliation. But what about her? Was this really my perfect woman? I'd never seen her have a bout of PMS; maybe this was her first.

Women! Go figure.

We walked in silence after she shook her head, giving me one of those looks.

"Men!" was all she said.

After passing another few darkened storefronts, though, she softened and took my hand. I decided not to ask from whence that outburst came. I learned later. In any event, the handholding made me feel like we'd reconciled (for whatever fight we'd just had).

Striding briskly to the restaurant -- a small, immaculate, family run place that had great Middle Eastern food -- through the frigid, deserted, and dark streets she must have decided that staying with numbers couldn't be all bad because she brought up a trivia movie game we did some variation of frequently.

"OK," she said, walking even more briskly now but, I hoped, continuing her emotional thaw, "let's do a number from a film. Not in the title, though. Just a number that has some significance in the movie, big or small. One of us says the number and the other has to name the film. I'll start."

"OK, give it your best shot."

"1701," was all she said.

"Oh, come on," I said, "that's so easy. That's the ship number of the Starship Enterprise."

"OK, I gave you an easy one, so one point for you. But, I'll give you another point if you can tell me the full registry number and the number's origin."

"Um, er," I stammered. For a pretty died-in-the-wool Star Trek fan I was a little embarrassed that I couldn't remember it exactly. "I think it's NCC-1701."

"That's right," she said quickly.

"But I have no idea about the number," I confessed. Then I had a sudden epiphany. "I got it! It goes back to Forbidden Planet. That was the number of the space ship in Forbidden Planet," I said with a self-satisfied air.

"Wrong!" she said. It was a simple statement and even in a tone that made it clear she was right and that I was wrong. "The ship in Forbidden Planet is a United Planets Cruiser C-57D. But, there is a supposed link. What is it? For two extra points!"

Boy! Was she good or what? I didn't feel in the least bit slighted by her knowledge. It was clear she was pretty brilliant. But, her ability to come up with minor details from things months or even years ago never ceased to amaze me.

OK, so maybe I was a little upset that she was so good at so many things. Now I really had to concentrate on that bit of Star Trek trivia. Yet, after a moment or two I just caved. "OK, I give up. What is it?"

"The NCC," she said with no hint of a gloat in her voice, "stands for Naval Construction Contract because Gene Roddenberry thought that star ships would be naval vessels. And the link with Forbidden Planet is that an early scene has the C-57D beginning its orbit around Altair 4 at 1701 hours."

How did she remember all this stuff!

"Now, give me your best shot," she demanded.

I gave it some thought and then something came to me. "One billion two hundred ten million," I said as we arrived at the restaurant.

We entered and found a corner table. It was so late that the place was nearly empty. I ordered a couple of beers to go with the water the waiter brought us immediately.

Her expression showed me that she'd been concentrating silently and intently. Then: "Oh, I've got it," she said. "You put it that way just to throw me off, you creep. That's the number of watts in the lightening strike in Back To The Future that hits the bell tower, but he pronounces it jigowatts, '1.21 jigowatts.'"

After we ordered Simone came right back with one that was a real poser.

"623," was all she said.

I had no clue. "Give me a hint," I said. "What time period? When was the movie made?"

"Alright. Late 1950s."

Geez, I was going to lose this one. I had no idea. "One more hint, please?"

"Why? You didn't play fair with your 1,210,000,000. If you'd said 1.21 gigawatts or jigowatts, I'd have gotten it immediately." Then she relented, "Alright. Let's say 'the cold war.' Now, I'm practically giving it to you with a bow."

I really tried to think about this, but 623 just didn't mean anything to me. "One more hint. Please."

"It's the number that's on something. You see it in the movie," she said.

After a few minutes going through all the "cold war" movies I could, I conceded and said, "OK. I give up. You win. What's 623?"

"It's the number of the submarine in On The Beach.  It's on the ship's sail."

"That's a little esoteric, no?" I challenged.

"If you play, you play to win, right?" she said, fairly enough. "Anyway, can you remember the music?"

"That's easy, they sing it throughout the whole damn film. Waltzin' Matilda. And who were the two stars in that last scene?" I asked her.

"Ava Gardner's on the outcropping overlooking the bay and Gregory Peck is taking his submarine and crew -- or what's left of it -- down."

"You're good, Simone. Especially for a film that was made decades before you were even born. You're damn good!"

"You have no idea!" she said kidding me, but with a hint of something that I hadn't ever noticed.





Deep Secret Ch. 14 - Games



She played with it again and, after some more little orgasms, she swallowed the whole thing with a loud gulp. Then she casually took her napkin and wiped her chin and palm dry.

"Wow, that was stellar," she said, almost surprised that she'd come so much. I would have thought that by now she'd know herself well enough to just accept her high degree of sexuality and how even the smallest thing could set her off. But, hey, that was me. What did I know?

We talked a little more and she explained that she'd seen a stripper at a bar once do the finger wrap thing with a hundred dollar bill on a bet -- no semen involved. She played with a one-dollar bill and in no time had the bill trick down. Then she was at a party where a girlfriend dared her to swallow cum from a condom. She said she'd make it a bet if the stakes were high enough.

Sure enough, her friend said she'd load up one condom with the cum from a dozen others and bet her $50 that she wouldn't drink the whole thing. She took the bet and, teasing her girlfriend as well as the crowd that had gathered, did the trick for the first time with the semen from a dozen condoms loaded into the one.

She said she had a great time with the cum, too. Plus, she won the fifty.

I began to try to wrap my head around the kind of parties she went to, but decided I didn't want to go there just now. (And why hadn't I ever been to a party like that?)

After paying the bill, we walked outside onto the deserted street. The cool air felt great. Simone was all in black. She had put on her black wool cap, black leather gloves, and zipped up her short black jacket. As I said earlier, she looked like she was ready for a bank job.

On the street Simone brought up an earlier discussion. She said "Crash Davis in Bull Durham says, 'I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve, and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.'"

"How can you remember things like that?" I asked more than somewhat incredulous.

"I pick stuff up," was all she said. Then she went on, "Or Bogart at the end of Casablanca says, 'It doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people doesn't add up to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that. Now, now... Here's looking at you kid.'"

"That's got to be one of the best movies ever made," I said, still thinking to myself, How can she remember these lines with the number three in them?

We walked in silence for another ten seconds or so. Just past a corner, two large men came out of nowhere and passed us. Simone seemed to look closely at one of them who reminded me of someone too, but said nothing and we walked another few steps.

I tapped my pockets to see if I had taken my credit card and somewhat absentmindedly I heard Simone say, "Ed, give him your wallet."

Still tapping my pockets, staring down at the sidewalk, thinking I might have left my wallet at the restaurant, I remembered Crocodile Dundee and my response was "You mean Mick, right?"

She said, in a very calm voice, "He's got a knife."

I started to say, "OK. I've got it, 'That's not a kni -- '" but that was as far as I got. As I finally focused on what we were saying and turned to look at her, I saw one of the guys who'd just passed us, dressed in black with a hooded sweatshirt covering his head, had his arm around Simone's neck with a gun pointed at her temple.

Then I realized that the other guy, much bigger (at least 6'6") and dressed in a similar manner, was standing next to me had put a hand over my shoulder and something very sharp touching my throat.

No one spoke nor moved for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally the guy holding Simone lowered his hand to her chest and said, "Oh yeah, this is the bitch. You don't find titties like this every day."

Next he leaned in and whispered something in her ear that caused Simone's face to change slightly from what I thought was fear to something more like anger.

The guy with the knife, a foot or so taller than I, mumbled something I couldn't understand. Then the guy holding Simone said to her, "You're coming with me, baby, or your boyfriend gets -- "

Something happened next that made me begin to gasp in shock, but by the time I finished the gasp it was over.

Simone, the perfect woman, became forever something more. She became a perfectly surprising woman. Or, maybe she was surprisingly perfect.

Moving with a speed I couldn't fathom, like a snake attacking prey, Simone had taken the guy's gun and in one or two jabs and a kick he was on the ground, lifeless. I was just taking this in when she went for the big guy with the knife next to me. She managed to get some kind of a punch at his arm. He screamed in pain, dropped the knife, and took off running across the street where there was a motorcycle next to an idling car. A third man leaned against the door smoking a cigarette.

Where did they come from? Who were they?

"You OK?" she asked me, busy reaching into her purse.

By the time I said, "Uh-huh," Simone had taken out her smartphone and threw it like a fastballer closing in on 100 MPH. She beaned the tall guy in the head mid-stride as he neared the motorcycle. I watched him fall like a limp piece a linguini -- dropping what sounded like a set of keys -- apparently out cold.

This all happened so fast I couldn't think straight, but I saw the third guy slam the car door shut and peel out. By now Simone was across the street, had picked up the tall guy's keys, and was already starting the motorcycle.

She started it, yelled to me to stay put, and did a Lara Croft-like motorcycle maneuver, spinning the thing, doing a 180 or a 270, pivoting on the front wheel, and followed the car that had taken off.

I saw the car with Simone in pursuit on the motorcycle fly down to the corner. First the car squealed around the turn, then Simone. The sounds gradually diminished for a few seconds.

Then I heard what might have been two gunshots, then one more, and finally a large crashing sound like a car hitting another object.

Suddenly, all was silent.

It took me a moment to start to breathe again. All this had happened in thirty or forty seconds. One moment we were talking about Casablanca and less than minute later two strange men were disabled and out cold. A third guy had taken off and Simone had pursued him like the superheroine Elektra.

Was she OK? What was this? Why did she go after that guy? Why did they want her? How did she disarm and knock out two huge men with weapons in seconds?

My mind filled with questions, one leading to another.

Holy shit! Who was this woman I was seeing? Did I know her at all?





Deep Secret Ch. 15 - Enemy



So much stuff was going through what was left of my mind I had no feelings, just stuff. My body was numb. I knew it was cold, but I didn’t feel cold. In fact, I knew it was night, but it didn’t feel like any time in particular. It could have been noon on a sunny day. I couldn’t focus on much of anything, other than my heart beginning to slow down from a race pace.

One thing I knew was that it was silent, dead silent.

Though a moment ago there were some guys about to kill or capture us, now there was no sound. Simone, my girlfriend of two months had disarmed and knocked out both of them in just seconds. Then she took one’s slick motorcycle to chase a third guy who had raced away in a car around the corner. I thought I heard in rapid succession gunshots, a crash, and an explosion.

All of this was on a continuous loop in my mind. No matter how much I wanted to shift my focus to the now dead silent city street around me, I could do no more than replay the recording in my brain.

A sharp knife at my throat. A gun at Simone’s head. Two big, dark clothed guys in hoods, one looking vaguely familiar, the other at least a foot taller than I.

Both of them were now out cold: One most of the way across the street, the other right in front of me. I thought I could see the latter breathing and assumed the giant was too. As far as the guy who’d peeled out, well, who knew?

I was only concerned about Simone. She’d run across the street after beaning the tall guy, hopped on his motorcycle, and taken off after the third guy. But, after all the noise around the corner, everything was silence.

She’d told me to stay put, but I feared for, well, pretty much everything.

Was she OK? Did the guy get away? Did he hurt her? What about the two guys here? Were they about to get up? What should I do? Should I call the police?

Nothing made any sense.

Who was Simone? Until the last couple of minutes Simone had been a 22- or 23-year-old (You’d think I could remember which, but she’d told me and I immediately forgot because I’d been staring at her tits. Now I was embarrassed to ask. I still wanted to know what size bra she wore, though. But I digress.) woman who went to my gym. She said she’d left her hometown when she was 19 and bounced around until winding up here earlier this year. She hadn’t gone to college, but was thinking about applying to our local community college. She was extremely smart, extremely well read, and learned things quickly, never forgetting anything.

She was also a few inches taller than I, had short blond hair. She was slender and pretty with high cheek bones, blue eyes, and she had the largest breasts I think I’d ever seen. They sat high on her chest and would have looked to anyone like they were store bought.

However, I knew they were 100% real. Oh, and she also loved, or maybe more clearly was obsessed with semen. She didn’t just have the ability to deep throat, she enjoyed and even got off on it – or actually on anything that would make a man come for her so she could taste it, play with it, and ultimately drink it to achieve her own climaxes.

What I had never known was that she was Superwoman or Lara Croft or some other female superhero. Moments ago she’d just put down two guys who must have each had 90 or 100 pounds on her – and they’d both been armed!

And now she was gone, having told me to “stay put.” Should I go in search of her around the corner?

Another thing that surprised me was that I didn’t hear any sirens. No police, ambulances, nothing.

That was about all I knew at that moment.

I just had those things racing around my brain. Not much else was happening up there at the moment.

“The rest is silence.” I began to try to remember who said that, but was having a hard time. Not three minutes ago, we were verbally sparring with movie quotes, the latest from Crocodile Dundee.

Now, I’m thinking about Shakespearean tragedy.

I was still blankly staring at the oddly familiar looking guy, still out like a light, when I heard the soft sound of someone running, but wearing soft-soled shoes. Turning to look in the direction of the sound I realized I was looking down the dark and silent street at the near corner.

Just before I saw who it was I was overwhelmed with sudden fear. What if Simone was hurt or worse? Should I call the police? Should I have called them a minute ago, right after Simone left to follow the third man? (You see, I thought to myself, The Third Man? I’m back to movie titles with the number three in them!)

Then a figure came running around the corner. The figure was Simone.

Words suddenly left me. When she got to me she matter-of-factly asked, “You OK?”

I wanted to say some kind of witty remark – or even something caring – but nothing came to me. She’s suddenly Ms. Action Figure and I’m speechless.

“Nothing like this has ever happened to me before – in all my life,” I said candidly.

“I know, I know,” she said, hugging me. “Marilyn Monroe.”

“Huh? What?” I asked her, walking with her across the deserted street to retrieve her smartphone.

“That’s the line Tom Ewell’s character (I think the character’s name is Richard something.) says in The Seven Year Itch. I suppose I should say, ‘Really? It happens to me all the time.’ That’s what she says.” (She said that in a great, breathy, innocent Marilyn voice imitation.)

“How can you be…? I mean… You’re acting like nothing special just happened. How did you? What happened to the motorcycle? Who were…” I said to her, the incredulity obvious in my voice, as she nonchalantly grabbed my arm and began walking back in the direction of her apartment.

“It’s OK,” Simone said simply. “Don’t worry about it.”

I began to say something to her, but she put a finger against my lips, shook her head no, and said “shh.”

We walked passed the dark storefronts, offices, and warehouses, back to her place in absolute silence. I kept expecting to hear police sirens, but there was no sound. The winds had dropped, as did the temperature, now surely around freezing.

I had a million questions, but she was distant as we rode the elevator in still cold – bordering on icy – silence and entered her apartment.

“I know it’s late, but I’m wide awake,” she said to me, cupping my crotch. “I don’t know if it’s adrenalin or what. How about you?”

My surprise at her expression of desire – especially after the day and night we’d had – made me vulnerable to any minute manipulation.

“Why don’t I start a fire?” I suggested, momentarily forgetting the myriad of questions as my blood began to breathe life back into my dick.

As I was getting kindling into the fireplace I heard her speaking on the phone. Her smartphone was on the kitchen counter where she’d left it with her keys and she didn’t have a landline. It was past one and I was surprised to hear her calling someone so late.

I was also surprised that she had another cell phone, one I had never seen.

I could have just chalked it up to another of the evening’s mysteries, but, as I sat there on the sofa, if it was at all possible I became even more curious about her.

Pouring myself a spot of Cognac was just the thing to enhance the warmth of the crackling fire I’d started. Attempting to relax on the sofa, I picked up the remote, found some nice, peaceful classical music, and waited for her to return.

She came in and sat down next to me, her hand sensually stroking my groin.

“I know he’s worked hard all day, but I was wondering if he’d like to inspect my esophagus. For medical reasons, of course!

“Plus, I’d love some semen and, maybe, you wouldn’t mind jerking off in my mouth.”

Looking at her bright blue eyes and her lovely face, I couldn’t say a thing. Of course, I wanted more sex, but I also wanted to understand at least some of what had happened this evening: This evening when Simone went from being a surprising woman to a super woman.

“You don’t feel like jerking off, do you?” she asked me. “OK. I understand. You have a thousand questions. I wouldn’t think anything else. But, how about a little intimacy and then we can talk.” She paused, still caressing my jeans. “I need it,” she added.

Standing up to pull down my jeans, my cock just popped to attention, very happy at being freed from the confines of my jeans and boxers and obviously unperturbed at the evening’s events.

With accustomed relish, Simone was slobbering (in a good way!) all over it immediately. I began to think to myself that I was probably smelling a little ripe if you get close enough, but she didn’t seem to care. All of the aroma was either from her, me – or maybe a little from Consuela. Gee, that mini-orgy at the marina suddenly seemed like days ago, but in fact was only hours ago.

Hours ago? That had to be a mistake. It must have been days ago. The encounter at Little Jimmy’s was – now that I think about it – this afternoon!

What a day!

Realizing I should be paying attention to the tall, thin, cute blond still clad all in black, I looked down. No wonder my reverie had been interrupted: Simone had my entire cock deep in her throat and was aggressively licking my balls with her tongue.

No matter how many times she’d done that to me I couldn’t get over the incredible feeling. It was as though there were two women working on my… No, two women adoring and adulating my cock.

This had the effect of my feeling another orgasm in the works. But, it wasn’t a certain feeling! It was an iffy feeling. I think my peter might have just had all the fun it could in one 24-hour-period and it might need to get some shut-(one)-eye.

Again, though, Simone proved me wrong. She began to move me further into her mouth and throat. I didn’t think it was possible, but it wasn’t just her nose that was pressing up against my body. I could feel her upper lip tightly against my skin as well.

In fact, I think for the first time, she seemed to be in a little discomfort. Not the kind that would make her gag or throw up, but she seemed almost desperate to make me come. It could not be very comfortable having your lower jaw opened so wide – and for such a long time – but she kept at it while rubbing the area behind my balls with one hand and pushing me forward with her other hand on my butt.

All the while, her tongue and maybe her lower lip kept swabbing at my balls like it was an ice cream cone.

Whatever it was she was doing, it had the desired effect. I was now ready to come and she appeared to want it more than I did. She was in her own world, moaning and even grunting a little, on her way to her unique orgasmic pleasure.

When I come inside a woman I never know how much I actually shoot. I know how many times it feels like I’m shooting, but after a day filled with lots of orgasms, I had no idea how much business I was doing – at the business end of my dick.

My first few shots were deep in her throat. I knew that because her lips were still firmly attached to the base of my cock as I was coming. Surprising myself I continued to come for at least seven or eight spurts. Somewhere in the middle of those, she moved my cock out of its deep place and at least some of my semen shot in her mouth as just the head was left in there by then.

She continued to lick around the head and it was exciting to see her tongue licking it as cum continued to spew out and land on her tongue and her lips, just to be scooped up and moved around her entire oral opening.

Watching yourself come in a woman’s mouth has got to be one of life’s most incredible pleasures. Doing it with a woman who truly wants your cum and is getting off while you are, like you’re actually the one doing the pleasuring, is something rare. Surely it was unique in my experience to give a woman so much pleasure just by letting her give me a blowjob.

Eventually we both came down from our respective highs and collapsed back on the sofa, staring at the beautiful fire, feeling nothing but satiety.

It was then I heard one of her louder gulps as she swallowed what was left of the load I had just given her. The sound alone made me shiver with excitement. Was it possible that I could get hard again, right after coming?

I looked down to see the back of Simone’s head resting on my thigh as she too seemed to be staring at the fire. Next to her and actually resting against her forehead, my cock was completely soft. The shiver of excitement obviously had not reached that far down.

Regardless, I knew I’d sleep well tonight.





Deep Secret Ch. 16 - Bras



Not long after falling asleep, I woke up, really thirsty. The clock read 3:58 AM and I was beat. I stumbled, naked, into the kitchen. The tap water in town, though nationally rated highly for its quality, was not my cup of tea. I opened the refrigerator, took out a bottled water. I guzzled it like I might have guzzled a beer ten years ago as a college kid downing one in a chugging contest.

Staring absentmindedly into the Simone's refrigerator, I was a little disappointed at how little was there for breakfast, at least for when breakfast came after I got some more sleep. As I wasn't the least bit hungry I dealt with the disappointment like a man and hid my feelings.

My thirst satisfied, I climbed back into her warm bed, my disappointment further dissipated the moment I felt her smooth, firm skin. This time I was out for the night.

We woke up late, for us, on Sunday morning. Without moving I could just see the clock on the nightstand; it was a little after 9:00. The apartment had the pleasant, homey aroma of still-hot embers in the fireplace.

Although I vaguely remember seeing Simone -- whose naked back was pressed against my own and added to the good feeling, probably atavistic, of being safe and warm -- pull the drapes closed last night, the room this morning appeared brighter than I remembered, but we rarely stayed at her place. And, we were rarely thinking about the lighting if we were in bed at that hour.

Quietly dragging myself out of bed, I took care of my morning ablutions, slipped on some sweats, closed the bedroom door, and made my way to the kitchen. I needed some coffee, lots of coffee. Maybe an IV would be the simplest way to go.

As I began the coffee making ritual, filling the coffee maker with water from the tap, I looked outside and saw why the place was so bright. We'd had more than just a light dusting of snow, but now the sun was trying to come out, making the world a UVA or UVB hazard. It was a surprise to have snow so early in the season; it was still October.

The Sunday paper was waiting at the front door of her apartment. I brought it in, plunked myself down at the kitchen table, and I got serious with the world news, sipping my coffee, after putting on some serious, but "happy," Bach keyboard music.

It occurred to me that drinking just black coffee might not be the thing to keep up my strength, especially if Simone wanted to play around before I had to leave to go work on some reading for my Economics class. I'd need my strength for sure.

"Balls," I said aloud (but thinking about the old joke: 'Balls,' said the queen, 'if I had 'em I'd be king.') looking down at my crotch, "you hear that?"

Getting up, I went to the refrigerator and found a fresh container of orange juice, some fresh vegetables, and other fixings for a great omelet, along with a post-it note with "For the morning's breakfast! --C" written on it.

How sweet! I thought to myself momentarily, before I had my next thought: This was definitely not here five hours ago when I'd gotten up to get my water.

"How sweet!" turned into "How strange!" She must have gotten up and gone out while I was asleep. Given all the events of the evening I knew she didn't go out just to get the stuff for breakfast.

And what was the "C" for?

Now I was starting to have a little bit of a freak-out. "C" could only stand for Clint the guy who'd phoned her late last night. Who was Clint? How had she knocked out three guys with her bare hands? Where had she gone?

The hell with Clint. I didn't even know who Simone was. Who was Simone?

As there was no way to get those answers until she got up, I managed to focus -- successfully for a while -- on the Sunday paper again. It was fifteen or twenty minutes later and several sections of the paper before I began to remember the events of the previous day or two, culminating in the frightening, life threatening -- and for Simone, death defying -- events of the walk back from the restaurant. Now, a passel of the previous night's questions flooded my brain and I wanted so desperately to get answers to them and countless more.

Of course Simone needed her rest and I continued reading. After a short while, though, I was still having such difficulty focusing on anything (my brain so curious about what had happened, how and what she'd done, and more importantly who she was) that I gave up, relocated to the sofa, and fell back to sleep -- two large mugs of coffee, notwithstanding.

A hint of perfume and kisses on my neck and earlobe woke me slowly, but effectively. Before opening my eyes I savored the smell of her shampoo from her short blond hair and her active caressing of the more sensitive parts of my neck. This and the sudden blood flow to my penis effectively, but only temporarily, quashed any of the questions I'd been eager to ask her.

I gave her a hug. She reciprocated with a few delicious kisses. We both sat up.

"I know, I know. You have a million questions," she said. "Let me get myself some coffee and I'll give you all the answers I can. You want a refill?"

Nodding and yawning, I enjoyed -- as always -- watching her gracile, silk robe-clad frame walk into the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with a fresh coffee pot.

Refilling us both, she sat down on the far side of the couch, her long legs tucked under her.

"Ed, some of wh -- "

"Wait," I interrupted her. "Before you begin, there's something I wanted to ask you to do with me next weekend."

She had a look on her face: surprise, longing, disappointment? I couldn't tell.

I continued, "My company always does something special for Halloween. (Go figure, huh? A CPA firm's big do for the year is one that gives its employees a chance to obfuscate, right? I know.)," I laughed at my own words or rather my line of thought. It felt good to see the beginnings of a smile appear in her crystal blue eyes.

Then it disappeared quickly. I continued, "Usually it's just 'dress-up' day at the office, but this year the new regional vice president is having it at his house next Saturday. It's sudden notice, but I'd love it if you went with me. You've heard me talk about some of my coworkers and I'd like you to meet them."

Guilt washed over me as I thought to myself what I didn't add to that sentence: "...and I'd love to show you to them also." It's such an immature guy thing to even think. It reminded me of her comment of the other night:

Ed, I don't ever want to be someone's trophy wife.

Simone could see my emotion change too, but her look became even more intense. I could tell it was time for me to shut up and listen.

"Ed, let's discuss your party later. I need to be honest with you because it's hurting me. You see, some of what I've told you about me, about who I am, is not true."

I nodded, confused, concerned, and conflicted.

She began, "First, I want you to know that I care about you, a lot. You have all of the attributes I look for in a man. You're smart, you have a wonderful sense of humor, you're good looking, you are great in bed -- putting up with my quirky, though some might say (actually some have said) aberrant, sexual needs -- and you're a caring and genuine person.

"I couldn't ask for anything more."

Interrupting her, I blurted out "Gene Kelly, 'I Got Rhythm,' An American In Paris, 1952, right?" I knew it was rude, but the emotional temperature in the room had recently dropped ten degrees. When your girlfriend starts out by telling you how great you are and what you mean to her, you know there's bad news just around the corner. It's like getting the old, "It's-not-you-It's-me" routine.

It made her chuckle and that raised my spirits just a little. "Close," she said. "American In Paris came out in '51. It was Singin' In The Rain that was released in 1952. The rest was spot on. (Though, actually, 'I Got Rhythm' was written for Girl Crazy in 1930, but who's keepin' score?)"

For a moment I thought, maybe, we'd still be OK. Maybe we'd continue seeing one another and who knows? Maybe we'd settle down together. Maybe all the antics of the previous evening were just a fluke.

I was resting a lot of hope on those "maybes."

"Listen, Ed, you're going to feel betrayed by some of what I'm going to tell you. I know that because I was betrayed once by my two best friends. My main hope here is that you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."

Though her words seemed dispassionate, both her look and her voice betrayed her. She came across as caring but with a sadness I don't think I'd ever seen.

"OK, here's the story," she began earnestly. "I'm sort of the person you think I am, but not completely. As I've told you, I grew up in a small town pretty far from 'the city,' surrounded by lakes and woods. It was beautiful -- but also quiet and for a young person, well, 'boring' would be putting it kindly."

She reached forward to get her coffee cup. My eyes couldn't help darting to that impossibly large cupped white lace bra. (I know, here I've got the perfect woman and I'm thoughtlessly doing dumb, guy stuff.) She sipped her coffee and put the mug back on the table.

This time I didn't stare at her chest. It was a struggle, but I prevailed.

"Though I was smart and read all the time, I didn't have a lot in the way of aspirations -- and zero in the way of role models -- when I graduated high school. I had a job at a local supermarket and all I wanted to do was to party. Give me a guy's cock and I was a happy camper. Give me a bunch of cocks and I was in hog heaven.

"So what else is new, right?" she interjected. That gave me those same mixed feelings I'd been having; I was surprised when a chortle came out of me.

"In high school I was usually at my best friend's house. Her mom had had her when she was really young and she was more of a big sister than a mom. We were all very close. In fact, she gave the two of us lessons in pleasing a man. I know that sounds creepy, but it was comfortable for all of us -- including these guys who lived in this back house she rented out.

"Well, at some point in our senior year they had gotten involved with these guys and we used to party with them. It turned out that these guys were bad men. They kind of slid into drug trafficking in the local economy. Their business grew bigger during the year after we graduated.

"I didn't have a clue, but these guys as well as my friend and her mom were all involved in making these deals work. I found out later that they were involved with a large organization in trafficking in drugs, arms, money laundering, and even women and children.

"So, when I was nineteen the whole local ring was busted. I was cleared of any wrongdoing, but because I testified at the trials I was put in the witness protection program. I won't go into the details. In fact, by law I'm not allowed to mention any of this to anyone ever."

She looked at me with inquiring eyes, wanting to know my feelings about this.

I was shocked but also pretty dazed by everything she'd told me. So far it wasn't that she'd lied as much as she'd left out parts, some were the important parts. But still...

The best was yet to come, however.

"I was relocated to a town near a military base and began taking classes at a nearby university. I also started taking martial arts classes at the college. Well, one thing led to another and I got my Bachelor's and a dual Master's degree within just a few years. I also learned more than a half-dozen types of fighting skills. As time permits I'm working towards my PhD.

"Things progressed until I was invited to join an organization, a part of the government that is simply not talked about. It turned out that I was really good at learning, both mentally and physically. Oh, yeah, and I learned a few languages too."

She took a sip of her coffee, eyeing me to see my reaction to these revelations.

"The jury's still out on whether eidetic memory exists or not, but apparently I have a surprisingly accurate recall ability."

I knew that my mouth was open, but I wasn't sure if there was drool coming off my tongue or not. Words did not come to me. My beautiful girlfriend was a government operative, make that secret government operative, and could probably kill a man in two seconds without batting an eye, just using her thumb.

Holy crap!

She told me more about her work and that she was actually 24, not 22. Simone was not her real name, but she'd had several over the past five years and Simone was as good as any of them.

Skipping over much confidential detail she finally brought me up to last night. Apparently there had been a federal plan to disseminate false information to some 20-odd cities around the country because of some solid data they had that an international financial accounting firm had ties to a large and largely illegal organization. Her assignment had been to get to know me because my name had appeared along with dozens of others on a spreadsheet on a laptop.

"It wasn't that we knew you or your firm were doing anything illegal, but the plan was to put out this information and that would help us to uncover the firm and its people who are involved.

"This organization is so big that we expected them to send teams to every one of the cities. We were just not sure of the timing. We thought it wouldn't happen until the first week of November, but last night every city that was targeted had thugs go after our plants. It turned out that the bust was made in Boston. It was hugely successful and should be announced by the Feds tomorrow morning. (This, they told me, is because Sunday is not the best day for the government to announce successes.)"

With that news, she stopped, reached over and patted my knee. "I hope you're not going to get up and leave, Ed. I'm so sorry." She began to get tears in her eyes.

I'm a sucker for women with tears in their eyes. What was I supposed to do? I'd been falling in love with someone who wasn't real. Simone, or whatever her name was, didn't exist.

It was probably only to be expected. I'd never had a woman this beautiful be interested in me before. Never. Oh, sure I'd dated some hot babes, but no one who could adorn the cover of a men's magazine -- and wanted nothing more than to suck my dick.

For sure, I was an idiot.

After a few moments of quiet, she said, "Because of my appearance I've been deployed to work similar assignments, to get 'involved' with someone, most of the time just to gather data. Sometimes I was there to protect someone also."

She continued with some vague details of those kinds of assignments both domestically and internationally.

"I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you. I was just supposed to date you. You managed to get into my soul like no other man has. I'm so sorry to have to lie to you and that I hurt you."

We sat there for several uncomfortable moments. She looked at me with those beautiful eyes and all I could think was how much I wanted her. It was clear to me as I was having these feelings that I should have been angry or hurt, but all I could do was to want her even more.

"So, let me get this straight," I finally said. "You were 'assigned to me.' You had orders to meet me and find out about me and my company." I paused, thinking through some of these things. "So everything I thought we had was a lie?"

She came close and caressed my shoulders. Then she held my face between her hands, looked into my eyes, and kissed me. It was a kiss of tenderness and affection; it lasted a long while. When she finished there were tears dropping from her cheeks.

"I probably look like a mess. I look awful when I cry. That's why I don't like when I do it," she said and sat back.

After pondering some of these facts for a few moments more I said, "Simone, or whatever your name is, you're right, I do feel betrayed, but, you know, I've also felt more alive in the last couple of months than I've ever felt in my life. I've laughed more, certainly had more sex, and the best sex I've ever known. I, I... I don't know what I'm feeling."

"As I told you, Ed, I understand how learning the truth about someone you thought you knew can make you confused."

My mind tried to get a handle on things. "So, what did you do last night after I fell asleep?"

"Well, I had to meet some of my team," she said. "I can't tell you much more than that."

"You got two Masters degrees and your Bachelors in three years?"

"Yeah, well, it was more like three and a half years" she said shyly. "It turns out I'm not just a dumb blond." That made both of us smile.

"And the events of last night, those three guys?"

"Just doing my job," she told me. "It was obvious those guys weren't pros; they were just thugs. My main concern was that you wouldn't get hurt."

"Did you kill that third guy? Why didn't we hear any police cars?"

"I can't really tell you much more. Once I put those guys down, I called my contact and the whole thing disappeared. Two of those guys weren't even Americans. Their papers were fakes. We're still not sure where they're from.

"But the guy who came out of your elevator yesterday morning -- Gee, was that just 24 hours ago, it feels like a week! -- was someone whose background I knew and who was involved with this organization."

I had a million more questions now, but as we talked more she began to tell me less and less because of the nature of her work.

"So, now that you're basically done here, what's next for you, for us?"

"Ed, that's what's so hard for me. I'm pretty sure I'll be going home."

She explained that home was in the Northwest, but she worked out of Washington, D.C. Her long-term plan was to leave her post -- or take time off -- and after finishing her PhD, she wanted to go back to school to become a doctor.

"Really?" I asked her. "That would be amazing. You're so talented, smart, beautiful, funny, and caring. And I should add: just plain wonderful. I won't even go into your unique sexual skills." Then I paused for a second. "Tell me though, was all of that a fake?"

"Oh no," she said assuredly, "I really love making love to you. Well, you know I'm an absolute cockhound in general, but you always make me want to please you so much more. And, man, do you please me. I don't think I've ever known a man who could come so much and so often. That's only one of the things I love that about you -- but it's an important one for me, at least right now."

Then it hit me: she was going to leave. She'd be leaving town. And she'd be leaving me. The perfect woman, my perfect woman, was leaving.

Part of me felt crushed, but part of me wanted to savor this and every moment we'd have left -- as few as they might be.

Deciding to focus on the here and now, I moved to her side of the sofa and began to kiss her neck, grabbing a handful of tit in the process. She responded immediately with a moan at my sudden passionate attack.

God, did she feel good! How could I possibly be angry? I had convinced myself that I was with the perfect woman. Nothing would ever be the same.

Moving down to her boobs I kissed what I could of them above her bra. I had a little difficulty but eventually succeeded in shoving her bra up over those mountains so I could kiss and fondle them in all their glory. As usual it felt like I could use another couple of hands to do justice to them.

Her nipples were the size of cabernet sauvignon grapes, small berries at the early part of the season. Each was just as succulent, though, as they are later on, just before the crush. The areolas were tightened, bunched, and crinkly in an excitement response, but they were still relatively small compared to each breast. I thought at that moment that I'd known women who'd had breasts the size of just her areolas.

I knew it was hubris, but I reveled in it. To think that this incredible piece of flesh and bone and mind and soul had decided to give herself to me, even if it had begun as "an assignment," was still in itself a turn on.




Deep Secret Ch. 16 - Bras



After several minutes of attention to all of the strategic above-the-waist places I was eager to get to similarly designated below-the-waist ones. Simone rarely wanted anything more than to have my hard-on in her mouth, but today, this morning, I wanted to please her in another way. I wanted to taste her. I wanted her to lie back and enjoy not doing anything.

I moved down her firm stomach and tore away her white panties to focus my tongue on her clit. I knew she enjoyed when I did this, but she often forgot about it -- as I discovered after getting to know her -- because she got so much pleasure from sucking and cum.

While both of my hands remained caressing her breasts, she moved both of hers down to her pussy, spreading her lips apart, offering her clitoris to me with delight and pride, like a waiter serves the main course in a fine restaurant.

She tasted like honey and I lost myself in her soft, sweet, wetness, only hearing the pleasurable sounds that came out of her mouth. I loved hearing her moan and I loved the fact that I was actively causing that to happen, giving her pleasure.

After a while at this, with both of us enjoying the experience, the angle was getting a little uncomfortable.

Without saying anything I began to try to bring her legs up on the sofa. She immediately responded by making it easy as pie (pun? Maybe...) for me. She also surprised me with her flexibility.

It was a treat to see: she had rolled herself onto the sofa so that her head was just shy of hitting the cushion that rested against the armrest on her side of the sofa. Then as she moved herself up, she pulled her long legs up over her body and they stuck out beyond the end of the sofa. All of her femaleness (as well as the part men share with women) was exposed to the ceiling. It was a lovely sight to behold her firm, tightly muscled flesh and the long legs that appeared to stretch beyond the horizon. She could easily have licked her shins -- even with her legs straight.

Recommencing my goal of pleasuring her, I dove back to her naked pussy, again spread open, but this time with just one hand, her clitoris popping up to guide my tongue to her promised land.

Her beautiful body, wonderful taste, and aroma, moved me to a place of joy, shutting out most of the world except for our delight.

I'm not sure how long I spent there, but she seemed to enjoy it in a way that I'd not seen before. Part of me felt like a hero, bringing gifts to my lady.

As I continued to lick and suck and play with her anatomy I began to think that maybe this was the last time I'd ever have the opportunity to enjoy giving this pleasure to someone who -- for the past couple of months -- had given me more pleasure than I'd ever known.

She responded with so many sounds of joy to my movements I was enthralled. Touching almost all over her body with my hands only made the feelings deeper. Just the feelings of my knees around her back -- as well as the feral sexuality of the experience -- made my cock poke her in the spine, probably somewhere around T6.

The world didn't exist for many moments as time stood still.

Eventually, though, we seemed to have a mutual understanding that it was time to stop, to return to the world of the prosaic.

I don't know if it would have been possible to count the number of her orgasms. Knowing her though, it was quite possible that she had but one, one that lasted since I began quite some time ago.

"Wow!" she said after she returned from the bathroom to grab a towel to sit on. "Sometimes I'm amazed at how wet I get. Speaking of amazing, that was just that, Ed. In fact, I think you just added a new definition to the word." She curled up in my arms and said, "Thank you."

"You don't have to say that, you know," I responded. "You've given me so much pleasure, you've spoiled me for any other woman."

We stayed there for several moments while my hand roamed over her breasts.

"This is annoying me," she said and got up to unhook her bra that was still pushed up over her boobs. "There, that's much better," she said and flung it onto a nearby chair.

I now had freedom to explore those beautiful breasts. After cupping parts of the one closest to my hand, I began to rub a few fingers between them.

"You know, so many men think that's sexy."

"What do you mean? Your cleavage?"

"Well, yeah, but the way the medial side of each breast actually starts at almost the same spot on my sternum. See this?"

She took my fingers and showed me what she meant. I don't think I'd ever noticed that as an individual thing before. Now that she'd pointed it out, I began to think about other large breasted women I'd either known or seen and I couldn't remember ever noticing it.

"It makes it really hard to find bras that fit without the underwires coming together and chaffing there. Most bras leave a little space (called gore) between each cup's underwires, some leave a lot of space. Even when I find the rare bra that seems to fit me when I first try it on and appears to have what I like in a bra, because of the way I'm built I usually won't know if it'll really fit well until I wear it for a while -- usually after I can return it." Then she paused and laughed a little saying, "I know it's probably silly of me, but I keep all of them though, just in case my body changes as I get older."

"Simone, you're a beautiful woman. No matter how you change you'll always be a beautiful woman."

All the time I'd been caressing her she'd been holding my very hard cock in her hand. Suddenly she moved down and got on her knees on the sofa, looking down at the cock in her hand.

"Hey," she said to my dick, "I know you've been having some serious work-outs in the past few days and to tell you the truth, big guy, it's mainly my fault. Oh, I know that your owner is interested in sex a lot, but I think I've been pushing him to the limit in the last 24 hours.

"But I was thinking..." she stopped as she leaned down to lick under the base of my cock and then gently licked my balls, treating them like they were a gift.

"You know," she said completely focused on my balls, "you two guys are terrific. I've never really told you that, but you guys work hard to keep me surviving on the great white liquid you produce, well, you and some of the other plumbing inside good ol' Ed here."

She now sucked each one into her mouth, sweetly and gently, while beginning to softly caress my head with one hand. She continued paying special attention to my balls. It was great.

"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you guys how much I appreciate what you do for me. So, 'thanks.'" She finished her dialog and went under the balls to lick, firmly, under them, pressing with her tongue on the now-hard part that is a combination of cock muscles attaching to one of the hip bones and the bottom of my prostate.

She was getting me so excited I thought I'd come just from that movement alone.

It turned out that that wasn't far from the truth. She had moved herself onto the rug on the floor and was still licking under my balls while they were resting on either side of her nose. Her eyes, when they opened briefly, were the color of the water in the tropics.

Licking up from between my balls to the head she quickly -- and amazingly -- swooped down my cock taking all of it, bending it down her throat. She stayed there long enough to lick each ball, now being supported by her hand.

"Here's a trick I've only done a few times," she said to my balls. "Guys think it's cool to see, but I don't think it's that exciting to feel. Let me know what you think."

Simone moved up to my cock head and popped it into her mouth. As she slowly pushed her head down onto my cock, she gently grabbed my balls and pushed them upwards. When her mouth met my balls at the base of my cock, which was now buried in her throat, she shoved my balls into her wide open mouth and closed her lips around the whole thing.

It was an amazing visual: there was no cock, no ball sack, no balls. There was just Simone's eyes closed, facing my abs, and her mouth completely engulfing all my manhood. I'd seen this once or twice in porn, but never had it done to me. I couldn't imagine how she could put all of that inside of her, but, as I'd seen first hand, Simone was an amazing woman.

After caressing my balls with her tongue for a while, Simone gingerly took all of me out of her mouth and throat. My cock and my balls were shiny, coated with her saliva mixed with some of my juices. She continued to lick and suck around the base of my cock and my balls for a little while longer.

Something seemed to change for her and she guided my cock back down her throat and banged it up and down for a minute or so.

Suddenly, she took me out of her throat and her mouth, and went back to licking the underside of my balls and the region beneath.

It was obvious that she had gotten herself worked up for another of her orgasms, from sucking and licking me -- and probably from the expectation that she'd give me another orgasm in the next couple of minutes.

I was only wrong in thinking it would take that long!

While continuing her oral caresses, she now had two hands on my cock. One was holding it in a fairly tight grip, slowly pulling it up and down. The other was using her thumb and first few fingers to caress the head. I could hear my pre-seminal fluid making sticky noises as she rubbed it around the bottom side of the head.

It was then that I realized she was doing something very similar to the C24FT that she'd done at dinner last night. Simone's Cunning Condom Four Finger Twirl could be used in a way I'd not thought of last night. This was another testament to her dexterity and ingenuity as well as her sexuality.

Enjoying the feelings and watching her at work, it suddenly dawned on me that my orgasm was at hand. I shot a few preliminary salvos up in her fingers that were working on my head, a few of them hit her hand and her forehead, but she kept up the pressure on my prostate. I'd never had an orgasm like this before, but I was sure willing to try it again.

When the first serious semen shot spurted up it went vertical at least a foot and then dropped straight down onto my balls. She moved quickly to replace her tongue on my nether regions with one or maybe two of her fingers. Keeping the pressure there and holding my balls up, she began to suck on and lick the head while I shot into her open mouth. Some of my semen stayed in, some dropped back down onto her hand and onto my cock.

This went on for what seemed like a heavenly eternity. I kept shooting. She kept licking and making me want to keep shooting. It worked for quite some time as both of us made noises of pleasure and satisfaction.

After closing my eyes for a few seconds of bliss I looked back at her, noticing the tops of her boobs swaying to the slower rhythm of her hand still working on my cock -- even better than I could (How did she know what I didn't?) -- and all the gooey cum that was all over my cock, her hand, dripping out of her mouth and off her tongue. It was a sight to behold. I felt like a star of my own porn movie, but in this one, unlike many I've seen, the girl is so turned on by the guy's orgasm that the taste alone drives her to her own, very real, climax.

She was coming in waves, her shoulders pressing up and then down very slowly as her body tensed and then released, tensed and then released, all the while sucking and licking my cockhead, slurping and playing with my semen like it was nectar of the gods. Somehow she got at least ten shots out of me. How she knew so perfectly what I was capable of when even I didn't know was truly mind-blowing.

When I finally stopped shooting, she went straight for my cockslit and pulled my cock to get out any that was left in the shaft. Realizing that all my coming was done for the nonce she went cum diving and began to play with the cum in her mouth and on the shaft of my cock. She somehow managed to continue to collect every drop I could see and more in her mouth while vacuuming and licking all of my own favorite body parts. I was in heaven. She was in heaven.

We were a pair of sucking angels!

She eventually got what appeared to be every iota of my production and kept it in her mouth as she sat back on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling, playing with the white juice and having fun with it. I think she was still climaxing, but it was hard to tell. Whatever she was doing it was having the effect she wanted and the moans of pleasure continued from the minute she went down on me until several minutes of ceiling staring.

She blew some cum bubbles and let some dribble down her cheek, just before slurping it back into her mouth. Then she'd blow more bubbles. After doing this for more time than seemed reasonable -- though I didn't know quite what that was -- I went over to her and looked her in the eye.

She reached up to kiss me and, though she didn't try to spit or push any of the cum into my mouth I could obviously taste it. It wasn't something I did often and it was sweeter than I remembered.

I pressed against her and reached down to hold her ass. We sort of rolled onto our sides just as she ultimately swallowed the load. A huge grin appeared on her face and she started to laugh as a new, big, hard orgasm hit her out of the blue.

Holding onto her for dear life she was like someone who'd just been tasered, shaking and seeming out of control, her flesh felt smooth and strong. In this case though it was her body focusing on just one thing: the pleasure of swallowing a mouthful of semen.

This was the perfect woman, no doubt about it.

We both remained still for several minutes until our resting heart rates returned to the normal range.

"I hate to say it again, Ed, because it'll sound boring, but 'Wow!'"

I just looked into her eyes and kissed her again.

"Can I ask you something about having sex with a lot of men, I mean, at the same time?"

"Uh, oh. Here it comes," she said seriously. "I was kind of expecting it. You've been so accepting I figured there'd be a delayed reaction." Stopping to sit up so she could really see my face and body language, she said, "OK. Let's get it out in the open."

"No, Simone, I think I'm still numb on that. Believe it or not, I'm so in awe of you, your accomplishments, your sexuality, your brilliance, your service to the country... You're all over the map. I don't think I'll ever get everything I would like to know about you 'out in the open.' But, I'm still thinking about you and lots of men.

"What is it like being with just me, or any one man, when you've had so many and so many at once? Can any one man satisfy you? When we're having sex and you suck me, after I come, are you just thinking 'Boy, now where can I get some more?' or are you content?"

Sitting back and thinking about it, she told me some more about her involvements in some pretty wild group encounters, even some in one of her covert training programs. That was a little spooky (no pun intended this time), but she said something that made me laugh, something that allowed me to move on, at least for the time being.

We'd been talking about her having parties where guys would just come up to her, sitting in a chair, and jerk off in her mouth. She told me that she'd come each time one of them did. Sometimes, she'd find some errant drops -- or more -- of cum and she'd scoop it up and taste it, only to come again.

Anyway, the night we'd watched the porn, we'd seen some videos where they were doing bukkake to the women. Her reaction was something that had never crossed my mind.

"It just seems a waste to have all of that sexy semen all over your face, in your hair, in your eyes, especially (a) when you can't taste it directly from the cock and (b) you really want to wipe your face. Even if you enjoy the wetness of sex fluids and saliva, it's one thing to have it in and around your mouth, but sitting on your forehead, temples, or cheek, you simply want to wipe your face. It tickles and borders on discomfort after it cools. And once it begins to dry, it's sort of like peeling dry skin. You want to itch it.

"Plus, it totally screws up your eye liner and lashes!"

I'd been watching these porn actresses, some of whom make a bukkake scene look like they're excited by it, but here's a woman, the first I've known, who's actually had more than a little experience with it and she's telling me that cum just sitting there is not as much fun as it's cracked up to be.

And, this is coming directly from the horse's mouth, so to speak.

Her candor and nonchalance made me smile and endeared her to me even more.

When the subject seemed to come to a natural end, she pulled back after a few minutes of listening to the music, the stereo now playing some Impressionist piece, maybe by Debussy. Then she kissed me on the cheek and said, "I need a shower. Want to join me?"

"No, I think I'm going to do some reading."

"No you're not!" she laughed, picking up her bra and throwing it at me. "You're going to look at my bra size, aren't you?"

"You caught me. But after I look to find out the size bra you wear, I'm going to read some chapters in Econ."

"Suit yourself," she said, walking naked, in a languid and graceful manner, to the bedroom. She knew I was watching and I know she loved it.

As soon as she had gone I let the lovely image settle into my brain. It was an image I never wanted to forget. I focused on remembering every detail: her ankles, her long slender calves, the back of her knees, her strong hamstrings, but thin thighs, that fascinatingly beautiful butt topped by feminine hips, tapering in to a thin waist, those long lean arms, and that firm, muscular but narrow back. All of this was crowned by the neck of a ballet dancer and her short blond her.

Thinking about that neck, maybe that was the way she could get a cock so far down it. I mean, if you could get over the gag reflex it would allow plenty of room for a cock to be inserted before getting anywhere near the torso.

What the hell was I thinking about? Why did it matter? The bottom line was that all of her parts worked and worked extremely well. All of those parts, too, were so beautifully assembled that just the memory of what had just walked into the bedroom almost brought tears to my eyes.

Simone was just lovely. If Shakespeare were still around writing sonnets, he would surely have written another couple hundred to her. I wish I could do the same.

She was the perfect woman.

Then I remembered: I had her bra in my hand. As immature as it may be, I needed to know. I searched around for the label, but it wasn't on the back near the hooks where I'd expected it to be. Finally I found it around the side.

My jaw dropped. It was so much smaller than I could have imagined. Could that be true?

As I raced into the bedroom, I could hear her in the shower. I made a dash for one of her bureaus and opened first one drawer, then the next. That was the one.

It was truly shocking to see what was in that drawer -- and the one under it. She must have scores of bras. They were neatly arrayed in stacks, but very wide stacks. There must have been fifty or sixty or more.

In the top drawer were mostly blacks and whites, but in the lower drawer they were in colors, with different colors of lace and tiny ribbons, along with some sports bras and some other kinds of boob holder things.

Just seeing so many of them in one place was such a turn on. I wasn't sure exactly why. I'd never had a breast fetish -- other than the way most men probably do -- but this was unreal. I took handfuls of them and threw them onto the bedspread. I held them up to see if I'd ever seen them on her.

I began to look at the labels, not even thinking about the sizes, but just the names. I was used to Playtex, Victoria's Secret, Bali, Olga, Wacoal, Vanity Fair. These were the names of bras I'd seen on many of the women I'd dated or even adds on TV or in the paper.




Deep Secret Ch. 16 - Bras



Here, though, I found none of those, well, maybe one or two Wacoal bras. There were bras from Panache, Freya, PrimaDonna, Ballet, Fantasie, and Empreinte. I had never heard of these manufacturers. Then I began to look at the sizes, especially in light of the size of the one she'd thrown at me in the living room.

Most of them were different sizes.

It was at that moment that I heard the phone ring.

I froze.

I looked down and saw a huge erection I hadn't even realized had developed -- at least so fully.

I looked up and there she was with a towel wrapped around her, walking to get her "new" cell phone.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked me laughing like I was crazy. "Why are my bras all over the bed? And what are those doing on your cock?"

I looked down again and several of the bras' shoulder straps were over the top of my cock, like a ring toss, with the hefty material of the cups and bands draping off them.

"I... I..." struggling to provide an answer to all of these exceptionally focused questions, I realized I had no idea.

"How can you wear so many bras and bra sizes?" I asked her. "You've got sizes ranging from - "

Putting a finger up in the standard "Hush. I'll deal with you and your bra fetish in a minute," she hit the answer button and said, "Clint, hi."

She listened for a moment, nodding her head. It seemed that the news was good.

Then I saw her expression change and she said forcefully, "I can't do that, Clint, you know I can't. He's not a -- "

She listened for a few moments and hung up. Turning to look at me, completely disregarding the brainlessness of my bra brandishing bravura, she soberly asked, "When is that Halloween party that your VP is giving?"





Deep Secret Ch. 17 - Oh!



"'All right, let's go, I give you half an hour,'" she said to me, obviously quoting from the episode of Seinfeld entitled "The Mango."

"OK," I said quizzically, attempting to rise to the challenge. "That's the episode where Jerry and Elaine decide that they must have 'sex to save the friendship,' right? The one where she tells him that many of her orgasms were fakes."

I held up my hand. "Let me remember," I said, pausing to gather my thoughts. "Give me a sec. It starts with the nightclub monologue saying, um, 'The female orgasm is like the Bat Cave. Very few people know where it is and if you're lucky enough to see it, you probably don't know how you got there and couldn't find your way back when you're done.'"

"Not bad, Ed, not bad," Simone responded, "almost word for word." Her demeanor suddenly changed, the twinkle in her eyes disappeared. "But I'm serious about the half hour. I've got a plane to catch."

"Right now?" I asked incredulously, "Don't we need to talk some more about last night? This new aspect of who you are? What you do for a living?" I paused for a moment staring absent-mindedly at the lingerie array before me on the bed. "Your bra size? Who's Clint?" I began to lose track of these random questions even as my brain demanded answers to them and more. "When you're coming back? What my VP's Halloween party has to do with anything? Why you've only got thirty minutes before you have to get on a plane? Where you're going?" I paused for a quick inhale. "And what the fuck is going on?"

"OK," she responded. Then, in somewhat atypical rapid-fire fashion, she said, "Yes. Not now. No. Probably never. Generally 30G. One of the guys on my team. Tuesday or Wednesday. A lot, but I'll know more when I come back. 'Cause I have to pack and I really need to give you a blowjob before I go. Out of town (don't ask) and maybe Washington, too. And, lastly, I'm going to get reprimanded for getting involved with you and getting you involved with this – about which 'the fuck what' I can't tell you." This time she paused for a quick inhale. "Happy?"

My first reaction was amazement at how she'd kept all of my questions straight and answered them so quickly. Hell, I couldn't even relate those prosaically terse answers to my list of rambling questions.

My second reaction was an internal "Holy shit! 30G! Damn. I knew they were huge, but ... Damn!" That brought up a slew of questions about the other sizes I'd seen. Those quickly ceded to the other mostly non-answers concerning the Halloween party, her job with the government, her leaving town, desperately wanting to take her up on that blowjob, and – last but not least – what had she gotten me involved with.

So, naturally – with my life having moved in the last 24 hours from ordinary, bordering on pedestrian, to one of intrigue, danger, and the threat of it ending violently way before I'd planned – instead of asking her about whatever I'd become involved in, I said, "This one here. This red one? This is a 28H, but this black see-through lacey one's a 32GG. How does this work? Are they inflatable boobs? Can you really change the size of your boobs?"

"You know, Ed, with all that's taken place in the past day or two, I have to admit I'm even more attracted to you because you really - are - crazy!" she answered, the last three words deliberately said in a slow marcato and chortling deeply. "But seriously now, between the blow job, the Halloween party, the clandestine meetings, the attack by last night's thugs, the really dangerous people you'll be dealing with next weekend, and of course the bras, what tops your most important list?" 

"Well," I said in response, raising my shoulders in a shrug. For the first time I let the reality of the phrase really dangerous people sink in and worked diligently to wrap my head around this possibly life-altering set of events.

Finally I said, "Double G and H cups. What's the difference? When do you go from F to G to H? Is there a double F? And what happens between double D and F? What happened to E?"

"Ed, be serious. Don't you have any concerns?"

"OK, you're right. You can explain about bras to me another time," I responded soberly. "Do we still have time for that blowjob?"

"You are a truly disturbed man. Truly!" Simone laughed at my disregard for anything else on the list, anything of import. "I don't have much time. Give me a little special white sauce quickly and I've got to run."

I ripped off my sweats pants as she dropped the towel she'd been wearing since she got out of the shower. She walked over to me, kissed me, still fresh tasting of toothpaste and smelling like a florist shop. The kiss gave me a hard-on and felt like it sucked the blood from my brain and moved it directly to my prick.

But it wasn't the only thing that went directly to my prick. Simone soon followed, rubbing my chest and abs as she moved to her knees in front of me.

Looking down at the top of her blond head I watched her carefully going about the job of ostensibly giving me pleasure when I knew, as always, she was getting as much from this experience as I was. She moved under my cock at the base and kissed each ball, getting each very wet with just the right amount of pressure and attention.

After spending some time with her tongue licking at the base of my cock, her chin pressing up against my ballsack making each one move to a side of it, she moved slowly up my cock with her tongue. Her face caressed parts of my dick as she worked her mouth up to the head. Or, perhaps, she moved so that my dick would caress her face. The whole chicken and egg thing was unclear and at the time seemed superfluous to me.

Regardless, by the time she had arrived at the head there was a pond of pre-seminal fluid collecting in my slit. She licked at it the way you take your first bite of a slice of chocolate mousse cake. I could hear a low "mm" come from somewhere in her throat, hoping she'd be taking my cock to that place soon.

As she spent time lapping at my slit and making the head of my dick wet with our combined fluids (i.e., me: pre-cum; her: saliva), she moved one hand to my balls and carefully stroked them. That added to my pleasure. Knowing her well enough, I was sure it was just a way to have me provide her with semen, the "white sauce," for which she seemed to hunger incessantly. Well, most often when we were together, at least. On the other hand, I figured if I created more cum for her, it probably meant that I would have a more intense orgasm, so who was I to argue with her presumed logic?

Now using all the wetness with which she'd covered my head to make the shaft just as lubricated and shiny, she returned to lick the juncture of the base of my cock and my balls. Continuing down under she moved to tongue behind my sack, taking long licks from way below – beginning quite close to my anus – all the way up to the base, separating my balls slowly each time. This put a lot of pressure on the internal muscles near where they must attach to the pubic bone. It was so intense that I needed to hold onto something or I was sure my legs would buckle.

I reached out to grab hold of one of the posts of her canopy bed, my other hand stroking the back of her head and her neck. "Simone, if you keep that up much longer I think the intensity of that, oh ... will cause me, oh," I moaned again, interrupting myself.

In between licks I could hear the words, "Cause you what?" There were a few more, but they were muffled by my testicles.

"Oh, jeez. I think I just can't stand ... any ... "

"Well, we can't have you falling over, can we?" she said, pushing me backwards onto the bed. Expecting the smooth comforter I was surprised at what felt like random pieces of something like small computer cables. It wasn't uncomfortable, but just a surprise. As she was able to get an even better angle at my nether regions with her mouth and continued stroking my cock firmly with both of her hands, I rolled my head and saw that I was lying on the dozens of underwire bras that I'd recently pulled from her dresser.

Now I've never had a real thing for bras the way some men do, but I think every man is fascinated by them. They are so foreign to men. Sometimes I even think that seeing a woman in a bra can be sexier than seeing her naked. There's the possibility that you can take it off. But, when she's naked there's nothing to strive for. I don't know if I explained that as well as the thoughts in my mind, but, believe me, I'm not a perv or fetishist – at least no more than the next guy.

On the other hand, I was fascinated by Simone's large bra collection and here I was getting an amazingly exciting blowjob surrounded by them in a large range of colors and styles. Part of me wanted to start examining the labels again, but the almost imminent arrival of my climax made me stay focused on the beautiful woman warming up my balls for the big blow.

She also knew it was soon to come in her inimitable sense of knowing a man's timing. Just as she moved up from under my balls and attacked the head of my dick with her lips and tongue, her hands moved back to caressing both the balls and the land below made wet by her tongue.

In a stroke of inspiration I, too, moved my hands.

It was a surprise to me how the bras were fascinating and just plain exciting, but there were real boobs – real really large boobs – just a few feet away and I'm here fantasizing about the bras. I shook my head and uttered the word "idiot." Fortunately, she either didn't hear me or decided it was nothing about which to concern herself.

So there we were, at the final scene of this blowjob, she had now moved me deep into her throat, but not all the way, more like an attempt at deep throating by one of the women I'd dated who'd wanted to do it, but were simply unable. Nevertheless, it felt great as her tongue was caressing the underside of the shaft. The heft of her amazing breasts was now entertaining me and it seemed that it was having the same effect on her from the stiffness in her nipples and surrounding tissue under my fingers.

Obviously saving the best for last – something she often didn't do in our experience – she made a slow but steady drive down my dick with her mouth, saliva and other fluids washing over both. In another few moments she had engulfed my entire dick in her mouth and throat. She kept it there, still, for a few seconds before beginning a dual attack by doing that swallowing thing with her throat muscles that felt like her throat was jerking me off. (I still needed to ask her about that one day.)

The other prong of her attack was her tongue licking between my balls. Between my dick being engulfed completely in her face and her tongue aggressively licking my balls and the space between, I was going to come in just seconds.

I was sure that I was making noises, but I wasn't sure what they were. Her sounds reminded me of a large cat, like a tiger or lion, purring. It was a throaty groan that made it certain her orgasm would be at least as big as mine and, for all I know, had already begun, now only to be soon reaching a higher level.

Satisfied that my cock was having fun playing deep in her throat she decided to spice things up by getting in position to – for lack of a better description – fuck it with her face. She took both hands and placed them on either side of me so she could move up and down more easily. Then, almost without warning, she began to move her head so my dick was fucking her mouth, going from just a few inches inside of it to all of it down her throat.

She began this technique at a moderate pace; we were both, after all, on the verge of coming and who wanted to go slow right now. After all this warm-up, I wanted this train to leave the station.

And she had a plane to catch.

Continuing her efforts she knew she had me where she wanted me, speeding up, more slowly perhaps, but the movements getting even more rapid. I responded by bucking my hips up into her face, amazed at how she took all of my inches of cock so easily when virtually all other women would be gagging or worse with inches to go.

I realized as I was getting more physical with her boobs that my orgasm was just seconds away. I'd never want to hurt her and I'm sure I wasn't but I realized that I'd grabbed pretty firmly on the amount of each tit I had in each hand.

Finally, after she was able to move her head up and down at blazing speed – as fast, it seemed, as I move when I jerk off! – I was starting to come. Knowing, of course, that it was happening she swallowed all of me down her throat and I could feel her upper and lower teeth compress (covered by her lips, of course) around my cock's base in time to the rhythm of my spurts.

Now that I was on automatic pilot she backed off a little, pulling me far enough out so that she'd be able to get a good mouthful, but I would still enjoy the extraordinary experience with no diminishment.

As I came I realized that she was rubbing her nipples along the tops of my thighs. It surprised me because my hands were grabbing at the comforter and bras on the bed, yet I didn't remember removing them from her mamms.

It was all fine as far as I was concerned. I grabbed a pillow and stuck it under my head so I could watch her in the throes of her climax. Now that she could taste my semen, she was catapulted to a new dimension and surely was no longer among us. She kept my cock in her mouth, but I could feel her tongue washing the cum around so she could savor every bit of its pungency. It was exciting to watch her tensed body enjoy the pleasures the way it did.

Eventually she returned from her orgasm and looked up at me with my cock still engulfed in her mouth, awash in saliva and cum. She finally pulled off me, obviously not having swallowed yet, and stood up, stretching her legs and her back. She next plunked herself down on the bed. Keeping the cum in her mouth, she tried to say, "Wow, that was awesome."

I could only make out a bare outline, but I was pretty sure that's what it was. She continued to come as she put one hand on her pussy, just holding her clit with two fingers. With her other hand she grabbed onto the nipple area of one breast and gently pulled on it. This gave her an even larger orgasm. I actually thought she might not come back from this one.

It was the downstairs doorbell that caused her eyes to open wide and stare dumbstruck at the wall. She mouthed the word "Shit!" and swallowed her cum prize. After enjoying the taste for another moment or two she sighed.

"That's Clint. I forgot that he was picking me up to go to the airport."

She raced around the room as I tried to figure out how she could go from sex machine to business – covert business – in the course of five seconds. I was still pretty high from the orgasm and wasn't sure I could even move. Just watching her race around the room made me a little dizzy.

"Each time we part," she said to me in her frenzy, "I always feel like I have a million things I want to talk to you about."

What was so strange was that I was thinking the same thing. Saying goodbye to her was always so hard. With all that was going on, with both our work lives overlapping our personal lives, it was much more difficult.

Before I knew it she was dressed for the cold weather in a mostly black outfit, had her pre-packed black leather bag on her shoulder, her black boots on her feet, and she was kissing me good-bye.

"If anyone at work asks, just say that you're bringing your girlfriend to the party. Don't call me or leave a message. I'll call your cell to let you know when I'll be back," she said. "Oh, and I've got to tell you: That was one amazingly awesome orgasm. It would have been longer, I know, if I hadn't had to run. But, well, thank you.

"I was worried that the pressure from everything that's going on might eventually get to you, but clearly you can still relax enough to give a girl an orgasmic mouthful or two."

She smiled at me and kissed me.

"'All that orgasm stuff: orgasm this and orgasm that. It's a lot of pressure,'" I responded, again quoting from the end of "The Mango" episode.

Simone laughed at that. "You'll lock up? I'll see you Tuesday or Wednesday. Oh, and I have a friend who'll help me get a costume for the party, actually I expect that there'll be two parties on Saturday so I'm getting two costumes for me and one for you so you don't have to worry about it. At least that's the plan for now. I'll know more when I get back."

On her way out the door she said, "'You know, I'm a little hungry. You wouldn't have any of that mango left?'" I remembered that that was the final line that Elaine says to Jerry at the end of the episode when they're in bed together and he can't perform. 

"Just kidding! I don't think I could eat another thing! See you, sweetie."







Deep Secret Ch. 18 - Options



It had been several weeks since we'd returned from our early anniversary Hawaiian vacation. Life was pretty much back to normal. The kids were busy with schoolwork; Amanda was busy with plans for the kids for Halloween, her volunteer work, cleaning the house, getting design ideas for the remodel of the guest bathroom, and generally keeping the family working as a unit. Before we decided to have kids, among other positions, she'd worked as a lawyer in the Justice Department. Three of the many things she was superb at were strategy, planning, and focus.

My life had returned to the comfortable familiarity (some might call it a rut, but I relished it) it had been months ago, before our perfectly planned and executed vacation. Gone was the refreshing feeling, the vacationer's high I'd felt for several weeks after our adults-only vacation in our fiftieth state. (It struck me as strange the Rhode Island was just a part of New England, but had the name "island," while Hawaii was all islands and just called Hawaii. Who does these things? One day I'll investigate.)

Because of our various busy individual and familial schedules, Amanda and I had gone on our anniversary vacation long before the real anniversary. That was still a few weeks away, but getting closer. There was the pressure on me to get her a substantial gift and as usual when it came to gifts, I had no clue.

Nothing new there.

As Amanda took our youngest upstairs for a bath before bedtime, she began to recite the children's poem that begins "Mary, Mary, quite contrary..." It wasn't until I heard her faintly saying the last line that my mind -- for the first time since she'd re-entered my brain (and had stayed there) on our vacation -- revisited a specific event in my time with Simone years before.





Deep Secret Ch. 18 - Options



At this, both of the ladies began touching us guys. It felt so good to have her stroke my arm, neck, and shoulders.

"Simone, once I get my rocks off I want to just sit back and watch you come from cum," said Consuela as she unlocked her van.

Consuela worked some odd shifts at two different jobs, so she had purchased a commercial van with no windows in the back and equipped it with some of the amenities of home, including a double mattress so she could sleep in between jobs as needed.

Once Con had secured the van and put on some music, Simone crawled over to me, unzipped my pants, fished my hardening cock out, and began to lick the slit. She knew that it would be full of pre-cum from the dinner conversation and almost immediately had a little shivering orgasm. 

While Simone was busy with my dick, I had a vague sense that Manny and Con were making the small space a little more comfortable. My focus on Simone's actions only intensified, as did those selfsame actions. However, after a few minutes of watching on Simone's cocksucking skills, I looked around and saw bronze skinned Consuela sitting atop brown skinned Emanuel, both naked except for their socks. She was riding his cock and clearly having a downright fine time.

Simone, too, had removed all of her clothes from the waist up and I hadn't even noticed. Manny's hand was cupping what it could of one of Simone's swaying boobs and from the sounds of it, adding to her pleasure at having my cock in her mouth.

Though she was enjoying the nipple attention, Emanuel and Consuela were having noisy fun even without Manny's manual mammary merrymaking. Con had leaned forward and was holding onto him for dear life. He pounded hard and fast into her. Both of them had begun making so much noise and moving so quickly I was almost sure someone on the sidewalk would call the police.

It reminded me of the old '60s bumper sticker that went something like, "If this van's a-rockin' don't bother knockin'."

As I leaned back comfortably on a rolled up sleeping bag, I looked down in the dim light to see Simone, eyes closed, making love to my cock. She'd do one thing, like long licks from my balls upward for a few minutes, then change to taking me deep into her mouth and caressing the bottom of my dick and my balls with her tongue, modifying the speed and pressure to see which appealed to her most. I think she even tried to get some feedback to see what I liked best, but she knew that everything she did was having the desired effect.

I watched as Manny grabbed onto Consuela's firm, naked ass with both hands continuing the assault that she was loudly loving. I took the opportunity to reach down and stroke Simone's hair and neck as she responded with a differently pitched hum and a rise of her smooth, soft shoulders. After a bit I reached further down to her chest and with both hands tried to grab a good hold on one of her breasts. It really required two hands to grab most of the one.

Though I'd been playing with those mamas for weeks now, it was still a turn-on to just think about how big they were. My mind started wandering to the dinner conversation about the wide bra band. If it was possible, this made me even harder.

Feeling her nipple sticking out like an extra large pencil eraser, I wished I could be sucking on it, but there was no way in the cramped space to move. I settled back and just let her continue the administration of her innate oral techniques to my prick. It felt better anyway, since it was a stretch to reach that far down and hard to concentrate when she'd hit some heretofore-undiscovered, highly sensitive zone of my accessible groin.

This went on for another few minutes and while I watched, Consuela rolled over so that Emanuel could screw her in good old missionary position. Being the strong but flexible type, it was obvious she wanted him deep inside her when she put both of her legs up by her head. Manny was pretty out of it and I don't know whether he even noticed.

I loved it when she eventually wrapped both ankles together behind her head, looking like the sexiest pretzel I'd ever seen. I didn't remember if she ever did that when we were together, but I was certainly enjoying seeing it now.

The sounds and smells of sex felt as though they were about to come to a head and suddenly no one was more in tune with that feeling than Simone. After stroking me for a time and licking rapidly at and around my balls, she moved up, deepthroated me like the pro she was, and then sat back and announced to the van in general, "I'm ready for semen. I need semen. Please can I have cum?"

"Just hold your horses, lady," said Con, seemingly on the verge of her own climax. A few moments later she was there. Manny stopped moving and the two of them stayed really still until her body put on a display of climactic paroxysms.

Emanuel stayed with her and I had to give him credit, because I might have just let my orgasm go if I'd been inside her.

After several moments of small, staccato, high-pitched noises, Con seemed to relax suddenly, her ankles coming out slowly from behind her head, followed by her cute muscular butt and sinewy thighs returning to the mattress.

"OK, I want to see this," she said to Emanuel. "Go jerk off for her. Give her your cum. It's not polite to keep a lady waiting."

Simone might have had a mini-climax just hearing those words. To add to her excitement, I whispered in her ear, "I haven't cum since you left town on Sunday. I've got a load that would fill a kitchen sink!"

That had the desired effect as she stopped for a second and then went back to my cock, taking me so far down and so quickly that it felt like I was punched when her nose hit my lower stomach.

She stayed there, teasing me for a few seconds, enjoying her own orgasm too.

By now Emanuel was up on his knees with Consuela sucking his cock. "Not too much," he warned her, "I'm trying to do what you asked for. If you keep that up you'll get this load, not Simone."

"Jeez, I'd love it right now. Hell, I might even have an oral orgasm like this sex-crazed big-boobed blond, but I want to see her come," Con said. "I want to see if there's some secret I can pick up. God, am I horny."

With that news and the winding down of her climax, Simone lifted herself off my cock, looked around the van, and saw another rolled up sleeping bag. She put that down so that she could lean the back of her upper body against it.

She licked her lips in anticipation and said, "If I don't have someone coming in my mouth in twenty seconds I'm going to have a heart attack."

We both scrambled over to her, Manny on one side and I on the other. Each of us grabbed a tit with one hand and jerked off with the other. (It was probably an auspicious stroke of fortune that Manny was left handed and happened to move to Simone's other side.)

As she took both of our cocks into her mouth I realized it was the first time in my life I'd ever felt another man's cock. The moment it happened it felt a little weird, but as soon as she began doing stuff with her tongue I didn't care what was going on. 

Her hand movements, added to my own, were just right, in fact, so much so that I really didn't even need to jerk off. Simone managed to jerk the two of us off concurrently. As far as I could tell Manny was just as satisfied with her hand movements as I.

Sure enough, about fifteen seconds later I felt that rush of inevitability that an orgasm was just about there. I looked down when, at that moment, I heard Manny moan softly at first and then with a grunt, he began to cum in her mouth.

The darkness prevented a clear picture of Simone's handiwork, but I did see his shots land on her tongue and inside her mouth. It was pretty exciting to hear her moans heighten to a climax pitch that I would have been unable to stop myself if my life had depended on it. Just as Manny's climax was slowing to a seeping phase, mine began after several drips of pre-seminal fluid flew willy-nilly all over her smiling face.

Simone was ready. She opened her mouth wide and faced my cock. I could see a large puddle of Manny's semen sitting on her tongue and some more around her lips. My first shot was huge and felt like a canon shot.

What surprised me even more was that my second and third shots were even bigger and longer. It felt as though each shot had the volume of one of my complete standard orgasms -- in one spurt of cum!

The volume of semen and the strength and length of the shots pushed Simone overboard. She lay there with her mouth agape, her body shaking like someone who'd just been Tasered, completely out of control. Her enormous boobs were wiggling back and forth and even her long legs seemed to be in on the action.

A moment or two later I heard a guttural sound from Consuela who'd been I-don't-know-where while all this was happening. I looked and saw her kneeling on her knees down past Simone's feet, one hand rapidly rubbing her clit for all she was worth, the other holding onto her right boob.

"Oh yeah," I thought to myself. "I'd forgotten about Consuela."

Refocusing on Simone, I was now shooting number seven or eight and still going strong, but not nearly as strong as before. By the time I reached my last big shot, maybe it was number nine or ten, I'd had an orgasm I'd remember for a long time. Even in the dim light, Simone's mouth was bathed in semen as was most of the lower part of her face. It was even dripping slowly down her chin. The dim light made the cum seem to glisten as though shining with its own photoluminescence.

The gleam in her eyes told me that she was having a wonderful time and if she hadn't had a mouth and face full of cum she'd be smiling from ear to ear.

She was playing with that mouthful of semen loudly, rolling it around her mouth like a wine connoisseur. As I just said, there was no doubt she was having a ball, still coming like a freight train.

We all just stared at her, amazed at her cum-loving climax while enjoying the sight, sounds, smells, and senses of the van.

As all good things must come to an end, so did my orgasm. While still playing with the cum in her mouth, Simone took both of our now diminishing dicks and rubbed them around her face. Her soft smooth skin seemed to soothe my overworked dick, a feeling you must experience to realize its indescribability.

Simone finally swallowed and smiled as small climaxes continued to cause her body to tremble. "That was awesome. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

She began to relax, but continued to rub our dicks over her face. Eventually she had us, as a jazz musician might say, trade fours: Use one cock to gather up some of the cum on her face while sucking the same off of the other and then doing the same with the other, repeating as she desired.

Consuela appeared from out of nowhere and began helping her clean her face, licking at whatever she could find, her chin, her eyes, my cock, her forehead, Manny's cock. It didn't matter. She and Simone were a couple of vacuum cleaners. By the time they were done, Simone and Consuela had shared oral cum intimacy, had had several more orgasms, and everybody was relatively clean and dry.

The three of us who were not lying back now, did so and almost simultaneously said, "Damn!"

This was following by individual words of appreciation:

"That was great!"

"You're amazing."

"I can't believe how hot that was." 

Et cetera.

Finally it felt like we had rested enough and it was time. Manny looked at his watch and said, "We better hit it, Con, if we want to see that movie."

"OK," she replied, "I'm ready."

"Me too," said Simone. I'd been enjoying watching her put her bra on, the way she'd get each of her enormous breasts, its nipple pointing just right, into its cup, get adjusted, put on her top, and then adjust again.

We said goodbye and left the van. This time they did drive away.

"We're not going to have any unexpected company on the way home tonight, are we?" I asked her.

"Well, you never know..." she said, hugging me closely. "But, except for your basic muggers, I don't think there'll be any goons out to get us this evening."

We walked silently for a block or so. I was glad I'd only had the one beer and then a cup of black coffee. I was hoping to get into studying for my exam the following night.

"So, how was your trip?" I asked her with curiosity about the intrigue surrounding this woman who had been my heretofore "girlfriend," but who, armed as I was with updated information, turned out to be some kind of special agent involved in stuff I would never be permitted to know.

The larger surprise still awaited me: I had no idea how long it would be before I'd get to that evening's plan to study.





Deep Secret Ch. 19 - Basement



"That was just what I needed," Simone told me, licking her lips as the receding sound of Consuela's van had remade the street into a quiet, dark, and lonely space.

"You know," I replied, "at first I was freaked out when you took our cocks and were licking them both. I've never touched another guy's cock, especially with my own!" I laughed a little uncomfortably as I said it, almost surprised at myself for thinking or at least saying it.

"Consider it as being liberated," she responded. Then added, "And don't worry about it. This shouldn't turn you 'gay.'" She said that in such a faux-mocking way, it made me laugh at myself.

"Your cum was even thicker and even more delicious than usual. You didn't jerk off while I was away, did you?" I nodded sheepishly. "Well, it proves you have self-control. Good for you." After mulling it over for a while she said, "I hope it wasn't disappointing not to be able to see it well in the van. It totally turned me on, but I know how guys are so visual."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. I was glad to see you have such a nice orgasm -- all ten minutes of it."

Raising one hand in an attempt at a courtroom confession, she said, "Guilty as charged."

A little bit concerned that I still had no clue about what she had planned for us next, I asked her about it.

"I can't tell you too much just yet, but we have an 'appointment' in a few minutes and most of what you need to know will be revealed then, I promise." She was suddenly serious. "I just need you to take my lead and really think about what you're doing. Also, you'll have a chance to ask questions at the end. Be honest and don't make any decisions based on me."

What the hell did that mean? Suddenly, I was awfully confused. It began to dawn on me that the relationship I thought we had was probably a sham. I had already imagined what my life would be like with Simone. It was to be a wonderful future. I was ready to settle down in the next year. I'd be an MBA and a CPA. I'd get promoted. All I needed was a partner. Simone, in my fantasy was to be that partner.

But now it was muddled at best. My confusion was the realization that there probably had never been a future, that I was a pawn in some kind of an operation, and that Simone was simply an agent doing her job.

We walked another cold city block in silence. My thoughts ran from disappointment, always one to expect the worst, to an uneasy hopefulness that our relationship was sincere and that we had grown close enough to be able to move past this.

As I pondered my own position, I was surprised at how her demeanor had shifted to "all business." It caused me to consider more about the ramifications of whatever clandestine activity she was involved in and how it might affect me. Except for the experience with the thugs a few nights ago I'd never thought much about being in personal danger. And, the way she'd handled things I felt like she knew what she was doing and wouldn't do anything to actually put me in harm's way.

Would she?

A block from her apartment, I followed her into a Burt's Yogurt Yurt (or as it was called, a B2Y), a regional chain of desert shops with half a dozen tables and cheery décor. We went in and ordered some frozen yogurt deserts from a pimply-faced counter kid. We were the only people in the place -- frozen yogurt not being the desert of choice for a chilly, late October weeknight.

We got small portions of some very tasty real fruit-sweetened frozen yogurt, sat and ate in peace, and exchanged some small talk. After a few minutes, the server got a brief phone call. When he hung up, he told us that he was closing for the night because there was no business and he needed to get home to help his sister with homework. He shut off the outside lights and dimmed the ones inside. He began to balance the till when Simone got up and said, "While he's finishing I'm going to the washroom," she told me.

"You should too," she added emphatically.

Not a very subtle hint, but if she wanted me to follow her to the washrooms, well, I guess I got the message.

As we walked to the back of the shop the kid told us to just make sure the door was locked on our way out. When we got to an alcove in back there was a door marked Restrooms. Beyond the door in a small hallway were three more doors, labeled "Men," "Women," and "Employees Only." She opened the last and the door slammed firmly behind us, the sound followed by an electronic click or two. It was clear to me that this was not simply a room for the employees of a frozen yogurt shop.

The room was a brightly lit, off-white color with a grey floor, uniformly pitted with tiny holes spaced about an inch apart. I briefly considered that this was the entrance to a secret lair and that the floor was loaded with fast-acting knockout gas just waiting for the wrong person to attempt to get beyond it.

I followed Simone across the empty room to a door on the opposite wall. I happened to look up and noticed that there were three small black hemispheres protruding from and evenly spaced around the ceiling. This new door had some security devices built into the wall next to it.

Simone swiped an ID from her wallet, appeared to have a retinal scan performed, and then punched in a code. The door opened mechanically with an ominous metallic swoosh and we walked into another small room where two guards in uniforms sat behind a sealed glass wall, monitoring at least a dozen displays. This room, too, had a door on its far wall.

They smiled and quickly waved to Simone who professionally reciprocated. After efficiently taking my photograph, in seconds they pushed two ID badges through a sealed hole in the glass. Simone's had her photo on it and mine had the newly taken one on it.

Except for the lack of windows, the next room looked like an open office almost anywhere. A score of low-walled cubicles -- most of which had people seemingly hard at work as though it were nine in the morning and not nine at night -- were illuminated by fluorescent ceiling fixtures.

An uneasy feeling began to creep into my gut as I doubted I was going to get much studying done this evening. I tried to console myself with the fact that I had high marks in class this semester and if I blew one exam it would still be possible to redeem my grade.

We walked through the room and to a small medical workstation on the far side. Simone took off her coat and I followed suit, still marveling at this busy office securely hidden behind a B2Y.

"Open your mouth," I heard Simone say to me. Turning, I noticed that she'd put on a pair of surgical gloves and was holding a long cotton swab. From what I'd seen on TV it looked like one used for DNA testing.

"I realize the irony in this, given the amount of your DNA I've sampled, but please don't make me laugh," she whispered to me with a smile. "I need to get a blood sample too, Ed. Please roll up your sleeve."

In a very business-like manner she took my blood like any phlebotomist I'd ever encountered. She labeled it and left it in a pale pink plastic tray along with the tube containing my mouth swab.

I followed Simone through another door, down a short hallway to a fire door, and down two flights of stairs, passing a landing to a sub-basement. This door too was solid and was opened electronically from the inside.

The mood in this new hallway was dramatically different. The color was a light grey with indirect lighting that gave it a futuristic appeal. We walked down a very long "corporate" carpeted hallway to the door at the end. It too clicked open as we approached.

Now my curiosity had gone beyond simply being piqued: I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in addition to the sense of foreboding in my gut. (Maybe I shouldn't have finished my yogurt, I thought.)

Then, of course, there was your basic feeling of What the hell am I doing here?

I also realized that I was so turned around by our five or ten minute negotiation of this hypogean maze, the only directions of which I could be sure were "up" and "down." Even if I wanted to, I knew it wouldn't be possible to make a run for the exit.

We entered a rather non-descript small conference room that looked like it would be in a Marriott or Hyatt hotel: one rectangular conference table with a dozen chairs and two speakerphones evenly spaced along an imaginary line running down the middle; a water glass and a large manila envelope were at each seat. There were two coffee urns, some fresh-looking fruit, cheese, crackers, and sandwiches on a couple of trays on a side table, a mirror on one side, and a generic piece of abstract art on the opposite wall. At the far end was a display built into the wall and on our end of the room was another side table with some reports in three stacks on it, each having the words "US Government" and "Top Secret" on its cover.

Even under fairly normal circumstances this might have freaked anyone out, but with the small pieces of information I'd picked up over the past few days, my heart was racing and I began to think about my freedom -- and if I would ever see that again.

"How are you feeling?" Simone asked me.

"Just fine, fine," I answered with utter dread, my voice cracking.

"Hey, while we're waiting, how about a quickie?" Simone asked me.

I was so surprised that in the harsh blue tint of the fluorescent ceiling lighting of this businesslike and almost antiseptic environment she wanted a quickie, I grabbed a chair for support. Then I pulled it out and sat.

"Are you crazy?" I asked her. "Aren't we about to meet some of your colleagues for some sort of briefing, one that is so important that I can't be home right now studying and for which I had to provide you with saliva and blood samples? And you want a quickie?"

"Aw, come on, Ed. It'll relax you. I know it'll relax me. Wouldn't you like to give me a mouthful? We haven't seen each other for a few days and I know we just had that one in the van. But, that's got to be at least three-quarters of an hour ago. You must be ready to come again by now.

"I know I can make you come..."

It was all too much. I felt overwhelmed by the whole "covert operations" stuff. I'm just a regular person, I thought to myself. I have a job. I take care of my health: I eat well (most of the time, anyway) and I work out regularly. I call my parents at least two or three times a month. I'm even thinking about buying a house after I get out of grad school.

What am I doing considering a blowjob from this incredibly sexy, busty, and beautiful woman in a subbasement of a clandestine government building in the middle of my hometown?

On the other hand, she wouldn't be offering to give me a blowjob in such proximity of her coworkers if she thought they'd come in, would she? She was clearly too smart and professional for that.

So, back to that question: What am I doing not considering a blowjob from this incredibly sexy, busty, and beautiful woman in a subbasement of a clandestine government building in the middle of my hometown?

"Please, Ed, I just need a little more," she said to me in a pleading way that made me realize that I was hard and quite uncomfortable in my pants. "Don't you want to give a girl some cum? You can just jerk off in my mouth if you want. Or, I can deep throat you and massage your cock with my throat while I lick your balls. I know you like that. Please?"

It's moments like this that makes me realize just how much a guy's brain is wired directly to his cock. And, when you get an offer of a blowjob, how can anyone let his little head be governed by his big one? In fact, even if my third grade teacher had been there at that moment and said those same things to me I would have caved. 

Interesting that I thought about Mrs. Shelby, my third grade teacher, who was pretty hot, from what I remember of some two decades ago. Nowadays, well, who knows? But, I digress...

"OK, let's do this thing. In fact, you pressed all the buttons that needed pressing with that offer of yours. I think my cock might react like the hydrogen in the Hindenburg and just shoot off when it's exposed to air."

"I can't wait to see that cock of yours explode -- just as long as I get to taste it."

She picked up a phone, dialed what seemed to be an inside extension, made some obligatory small talk for a little while, and finally asked when the meeting was to get started. Then she hung up, took my hand, and walked me to a side door of the conference room.

We entered a vestibule that was from a different world. There was no overhead lighting. The smallish room had a cozy feel. On one wall was a sofa between two end tables, both with homey lamps. The opposite wall had two big armchairs with a good-sized round table in between them; the table also had a lamp. On the far wall were two evenly spaced doors between a modern water sculpture, one that made a pleasant refreshing sound reminiscent of a murmuring brook.

It was such a stark contrast to the rest of the place that the ambience in here literally had the effect of entering an alternative dimension.

Simone walked me over to the sofa, sat herself on it, and opened the fly on my jeans, only inches in front of her face. While she worked intently to get my cock out without hurting me, I put my hands on either side of her head and began to stroke her short blonde hair. Just as she unwrapped my dick from inside my shorts, I could feel her gasp at the excitement of seeing it again.

She drew it out and it began to point straight at her. Gently she licked the slit in its head and I could feel a silent, small tremor occur in her body, a reaction to the post- orgasm fluids that had accumulated there. I smelled mostly her shampoo and perfume mixed with a tad of the smell of sex from my now fully engaged prick. Moving one hand down to her neck, she automatically lifted her shoulder in response, pressing my hand more firmly against her. Though I've never felt it myself, her skin felt as smooth as the Jean-Antoine Houdon statue of Diana the Huntress that I saw in the Frick Collection many years ago. Of course, Diana would surely not have an acceptable BMI had she been human. But that same silky flesh was the epitome of youthful femininity yet, cool and solid when pressed. It was exciting and sensual, but also formidable and compelling.

As these complex thoughts bounced around my addled skull, I hadn't noticed -- other than the feeling of completely unbridled pleasure -- that her superb competence had once again completely engulfed my eight or nine inches so far down her throat that I could feel her nose jabbing me in my lower abdomen.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, she began to pull back and then slowly push back down onto my dick -- as though she were fucking me with her head, but in slow motion. I could still feel that thing she did around the head of my cock. It almost felt like she was rubbing it with her lubricated fist, but of course, that was not the case. Maybe she had some other appendage in her throat that she could control, some muscle that would rub your cock while it was there. 

She had maintained this in-and-out, slo-mo movement for enough time now to be pulling me almost completely out of her mouth and then shoving me all the way back down her throat. On each outward movement it seemed to permit her to moan in pleasure and that sound, that slight wail, had caught my attention. It was so vivid and intense that it aroused me even more than just the physical aspect of this extradimensional deep throat blowjob.

After another minute or two she took her hands, which had been planted on my butt cheeks, off of me and put them primly in her lap. I decided that two can play at that game and stopped caressing her head and neck (to tell the truth, I don't think she even felt it any longer because of her one-track focus on my cock and my eventual and inexorable orgasm).

She'd built up a head of steam by now (Pun? Nah.) and was moving her head forward and backward on my cock as though her life depended on it. It surprised me at first that she could be so strong to keep it up with such focus. It always looked like such a strange thing -- but a sexy thing, too -- to do: taking a cock deep into her throat rapidly while the cock pretty much stayed still. She really was fucking me with her head in the same way that a guy might lie still while a woman sits on top of him, completely controlling the movement for her own pleasure.

It almost became a blur: both the movement of her head as well as the past few days' events. How I came to be in the cave. How I came to be seeing this incredible woman. And, for the nonce, how I was about to come.

I don't think we'd ever had sex this way. Let me rephrase that: I don't think she'd ever quite sucked me so hard, long, and deep in such an aggressive fashion. I was afraid she'd hurt herself. I worried that she could bruise her throat or her nose each time she slammed her face into me.

Just as it seemed like she would not be able to keep up the movements any more, I could feel my climax approaching. Knowing how she would never give up on anything, it was clear I didn't have to say a word. However, I suddenly heard myself moaning with such a cry, I was afraid I'd set off some kind of sensor in this high-tech labyrinth.

As my orgasm was now going to happen, Simone sensed it as strongly as I did. She knew only a little more was necessary. Suddenly, she pulled back until only my head was in her mouth, just beyond her lips. She proceeded to do some new trick: using her tongue, teeth, and lips, she bathed my head and the sensitive part just behind it, and especially beneath it, with everything she had. It felt like she was washing me with a thousand tongues while simultaneously putting pressure on everything at once.

That was all I needed: I pulled back for a split second just as my first shot of cum went flying out, landing flat with a sound on her outstretched tongue. She began to climax and thrust her head down on my dick farther than she'd done since she began the slo-mo fucking several minutes ago.

Her upper teeth were putting pressure on her upper lip at the very base of the top of my cock and it seemed that her lower jaw had all but engulfed as much as possible of my balls. At the same time, her tongue was languorously licking at the underside of the base of my cock and swabbing away at every inch of ball sack it could. It seemed like she was putting pressure on my prostate, forcing me to feel such intensity that my orgasm was actually uncontrollable. I could have passed out at that moment and the cum would have nevertheless continued shooting.

My cock was in heaven. I was in heaven. Simone was having a huge climax.

Spurt after spurt of my semen seemed to shoot down her throat. I knew she would be disappointed not to have any to play with, but I could tell she was having such intense pleasure that there was nothing to worry about. As I said, she was completely in control of everything now. My dick was in automatic fire mode.

And it felt like no other climax in my life.

Maybe each one is like that, but this was one I still remember to this day. Perhaps it was the odd situation, the room, the fact that we'd not had sex (well, except with Manny and Consuela an hour ago!) for several days, or maybe it was some kind of logical progression or climax in our relationship. I didn't know at the time.

In fact, I still don't know why it felt the way it did. It just felt amazing and unique.

The way that nature tells us to slow down is to make us tired. (Or to have a heart attack, but I was way too young for that at the time.) At that moment I felt as though all of my semen had been shot directly down her esophagus and was now resting in her belly.

Between the two of us we'd both had a very intense experience and I needed to sit, if not immediately, at least very soon. The last thing I wanted, though, was to take away from her hard earned orgasm. I just stood there, still in awe of the ecstatic feelings my body was sending my brain and letting Simone continue to work on my cock, milking as much juice as her throat could out of it.




Deep Secret Ch. 19 - Basement



When she finally let it go, she took her hands and, using both, pulled it out, staring at the head. My dick was pretty soft by now and she pressed the base hard with her hands. This had the result of pressing some more semen out of whatever plumbing was inside of me.

She leaned forward to lick it up and managed to collect more than a bit. I even felt a few more contractions happen. How she was able to know my sexual system so well was beyond me. It all just felt so damn good.

Pulling off my cock she dropped back on the sofa and made a motion for me to sit next to her. I accepted and plopped down next to her.

"I've never -- ever -- come that intensely before. What did you do differently? Just an hour ago I came and that felt like a huge orgasm, but this made that feel like I slept through that earlier one. What magic did you do?" I asked her after a few moments of silence.

Simone smiled at me, just raising the corners of her talented mouth. She sat upright, the extra large, round orbs of her sweatered breasts even more obvious. Then, almost in slow motion, she pressed the tip of her tongue out from between her lips and opened her mouth just slightly.

I was surprised to see semen begin to flow slowly, but steadily off her tongue, over her lower lip, down her chin and onto one of her open palms a foot below, just in front of her boobs. It surprised me that so much of my cum was in her mouth. I'd thought that most of it was deep inside stomach by now.

"Where did you get all of that?" I asked, immediately regretting how stupidly rhetorical the question sounded.

But now that there was a large puddle of it in her hand, she was able to respond. "You came like a horse -- not that I've ever seen a horse come, but that's what it felt like. Most of this," she indicated to her hand, "is from your first shot or two. The rest went straight down my throat. Oh, and some is from your internal tubing I managed to suck out after you'd finished coming."

We sat silently for a while. Well, that's not completely true. I was silent. Simone was making cooing sounds as she'd lick up the cum in her hand, eventually slurping it into her mouth. Next, she'd let it dribble down onto her hands again. Then she'd start the process all over again as her tongue appeared to send her into small spasms of satisfaction.

At one point while it was in her palm she explained to me that semen was made to be sticky and thick for a few minutes. Then it was supposed to thin out. This was so the sperm cells could have a chance to stay in a safe environment inside the relatively more acidic environment of a vagina before starting their marathon swim.

You'd think with all the orgasms I'd had, I would have known at least something about this, but I must have been sleeping through those classes in Sex Ed.

"And, I feel sorry for those girls you guys were talking about at dinner."

I was still trying to get a handle on how scientists could determine what semen was or was not supposed to do. I was thinking that it was like trying to determine what your eyes or your ears were supposed to do. So, I incoherently said, "Huh?"

"I didn't want to say anything at dinner, but, here, do you see how white your cum is?"

I leaned over just a little and saw a bubbly puddle of semen.

"Go on," she said, "It's not going to bite you." I looked at it more closely. "You see, because it is supposed to be thick and cling to a mucous membrane, it can be pretty hard to swallow at first. It wants to stick to the throat when you're trying to swallow it.

"What I didn't feel comfortable blurting out at dinner (though I don't know why, since we'd all already been intimate) is that if you play with it, two things happen: First, your saliva will mix with it and make it whiter and it will aerate it. Once it gets aerated it'll also be easier to swallow. Plus it gets sweeter. I think that has to do with the salivary amylase breaking down the carbohydrates, but I don't remember anymore.

"So all those poor girls who felt like they were going to barf... If only someone had told them to play with the cum before trying to swallow it. They would have been enjoying blowjobs more and looking forward to the taste of the semen."

I wasn't sure that her logic would have held water with some of the women I'd dated. It sort of verged on the old line: "If you swallow it, it'll make your boobs grow." I know adult women would never buy that line either -- but with some girls in high school it had worked for me. In fact, when I was a junior, there was this one girl in my algebra class, Kathy, who was a cheerleader. I thought she had great tits, but she wanted them to be bigger. She was actually the one who told me that she'd heard that swallowing cum would make them grow. Not being one to turn down an offer for a "Please come in my mouth" blowjob I did that on our first date -- three times. I can't even begin to remember how many times she sucked me over the next year or so. We never fucked or did almost anything else. And, her boobs did grow. She thought it was from swallowing all my cum. I thought it was just because she was still growing, but I never told her that. Even after we both followed our individual paths, she'd still ask me if I'd like a blowjob every so often until her parents moved away after our first year of college.

But, I digress...

I could tell Simone was still on a diminished, but nevertheless, orgasmic high playing with her prized pool of pud juice, though she had the look of someone who was torn by the immediacy of her pleasure and the long-term purpose and structure of duty and her job.

Finally, after swallowing every drop on her hand and going for anything left on her lips and chin, she leaned over to suck my soft cock once more and then to kiss the head. I felt like it was time for whatever was next. Simone stood and gave me a hug, really pressing herself against me. I'd almost forgotten how much breast tissue was there, but it felt wonderful pressed against me this way.

She excused herself to go to the lady's room as I went to the men's room. When we met back out in the vestibule, she stopped me and said, "You're going to meet seven or eight people, all associated with the task force for the mission this coming weekend. Don't be intimidated by them. There'll be some power struggling going on, but we're all aiming for the same goal: taking down this sadistic psychopath.

"Don't interrupt the meeting unless it's critical to talk at that moment. Just write down all of your questions as they come to you. You'd be expected to have a million of them so don't worry about sounding dumb.

"After hearing everything, you can still back out. No problem. But, if you decide to join in the project, you'll be able to ask me anything between now and the Halloween party.

"Oh, and, by the way, I didn't really like the costume you picked for the party, so I got you a costume. You and I are going to go as an unlikely couple," she told me. "But, don't worry, it's a costume party, right? I think your coworkers are probably going to like me -- especially the men. In fact, I'm going to knock their socks off!"





Deep Secret Ch. 20 - Sadists



I would have felt fortunate if I'd only felt uncomfortable. In fact, even nauseated would have meant I was in better shape than I actually was.

Truth is, I thought I was going to barf.

When you watch violence on television -- something much larger on modern sets, almost mimicking the experience of seeing the same thing with a 70 mm theater print because of your distance from the screen -- there's just something in your mind telling you, as gory as it may be, that it's a recreation or even entertainment. It's not real. That isn't happening, you say to yourself, or didn't happen to someone, not really, not those images.

Viewing photographs and projected images of tortured and dead bodies -- real tortured and dead bodies -- was simply more than I could take.

I excused myself. The rest of the table decided that, after this extreme thirty or thirty-five minute period, perhaps a break was in order.

Flying into the men's room inside the alcove where I'd had intense sexual bliss less than an hour ago, I quickly slammed open the door of the first stall and just barely fell to my knees before losing dinner -- and maybe even a chunk of my stomach -- into the toilet.

A couple of minutes later, after some deep breaths, attempting to slow my heart rate, I got up. I cleaned myself at the sink. Hastings, the apparently one-named British member of the team, waited patiently to make sure I was OK.

"There's color returning to your face," he said to me in the mirror as he too washed his hands. "Brilliant. You're much improved."

"How can anyone do those things to another human being?" I asked him, not expecting any reasonable answer. There simply wasn't one. The person or people who did those things were not human.

"Sociopaths are not wired the way most people are. They don't view others as members of their society," Hastings said plainly. He paused, took a slow, deep breath, and added, "Are you ready to get back and get to some detail? Let's go, shall we?"

I grunted in the affirmative and we returned to the conference room.

The first part had probably been more for my benefit than the others, though some of the interaction made it clear that I was not the only one learning details about this man and his entourage.

The man who'd been introduced as General Ostrow dimmed the lights from the panel next to him and the screen lit up with a slide showing an organization chart.

First, the general went over some procedural things. Then he handed the floor to beautiful tall black woman whom he introduced as Joa Lucetina who went on about procedures for what seemed like a long time. I nodded off.

I was awakened from my stupor when Joa asked me, "Is this clear?"

"Yes," I said simply, though my mind was beginning to question its own sanity.

Much of the rest of the briefing escapes me now so I'll just explain the plan as clearly as I can.

The people we were hoping to capture were an international team of sadistic thugs dedicated to greed, violence, and power. The group was so well organized that, though their activities were known, proof was hard to come by and even their names were not known with assurance.

We knew that there was a father named Orm with four sons. Orm the patriarch was getting on in years and had decided that one of his sons should inherit his position when he decided to retire. Most of the violence and brutality we'd seen in the first part of the meeting was provided by the father and one heir. I don't remember the names of any of the other sons. What was most important was that the son who was to inherit the throne was known as Erzy or Herzie. (A lot of those in the room began referring to him as Arty.) They were unsure of his exact name, the spelling having remained unknown for years. It may have even been Henri.

What was known was that he had a tattoo in a very delicate spot just near his ass hole. This was the only definitive method of identifying him. I briefly wondered, if this guy was so secretive, how they knew that. Then I let it go.

Part of the Saturday plan was that Simone, Joa, and four of the other attractive female members of the team were going to be part of the entertainment for the evening's private party. Each was going to do whatever it took to locate the man with that tattoo.

Apparently Erzy's sexual preference was for women who loved sex and were aggressive with their partners. He also preferred women who loved taking in large men and even larger toys. It was a given that any of the entertainers had to relish -- or at least appear to relish -- semen.

My mind briefly remembered that Simone had once discussed making a relish out of semen. We had kidded about bottling it and even putting it -- appropriately -- on a kind of hot dog. The levity had momentarily made me forget the violence I'd just been shown.

Mentally returning to the meeting, it suddenly dawned on me why this team was assembled.

What was not clear was just this: Why me? What did they want me for?

As I sat there trying to keep all of this information in my brain, sorted, and ready for use, Clint, the one member of the team I knew other than Simone, turned to me in response to my puzzled look and said, "You're probably wondering what this has to do with you."

I nodded.

"Daddy's in a town for a relatively small business deal," Clint began to explain, "supplying some gangs with weapons and drugs, plus a small shipment of some trafficked humans to be given away, slaves, to their partners around the world. It's only a one or two hundred million dollar deal and for these people it's not much more than they make in a month or two.

"But, he's also here to get the books from your accounting firm so he can relocate his firm to a small international banking center in the European Union. He's starting to doubt his firm's safety here in the US and thinks this solution will give him more credibility with his legitimate business partners.

"So, Saturday night you and Simone are going to attend your new boss's party. We expect that he'll get a call from the Brent Davidson, your firm's CEO who will be attending a small, private but lavish shindig given for Orm. We also expect that during the large, company Halloween party, your VP will ask you to go downtown to your office, get the (secure) files about Orm's firm, both paper and electronic, and physically bring them to the private party. Erzy and at least two of his brothers will be flying in from business in South America later in the evening.

"Our plan is to have you bring the data to the other party and then return to yours. Later, when the brothers arrive, they'll be entertained by our crew. Once we find the tattoo and, with the records that will, with your help, be there, we'll be able to move in with a team large enough to invade Manhattan. With Orm, Davidson, and Erzy together along with those files, prosecution will go smoothly. Their days of terror will be over."

My proximity to danger in all of this was beginning to sink in and a feeling of dread began to wrap around me. I thought about the people -- the dead people -- I'd seen earlier. I thought about the horrific tortures they'd been through and how violent and senseless they were. In addition to the immediate danger to me I considered some of the details I'd learned about their operations: They armed terrorist groups and leaders who wanted to upset hard-won democratic governments in third world countries. They had abetted terrorists who'd committed crimes against my own country, ones that I'd heard about on the news. They were responsible for more than three thousand children being sold into slavery in just the past two years. They had profits of billions of dollars in drug trade in the U.S. alone.

These were the hard facts as they'd been explained. I thought about it and knew they were evil, but it wasn't until I recalled the images of their sadism from the opening portion of the meeting that I knew I had to help these people in any way I could. I glanced over at Simone who gave me a reassuring look.

"Ed, we expect that you will be driven by several of Orm's muscle, his strongmen, to your office. There, because of your privacy clearance, you'll get whatever you're asked to get. As discussed, we expect that it will be both physical ledgers and electronic media that are kept in a secure place, one you've probably never seen. Based on some historical intelligence they will accompany you while you're there.

"Don't do anything 'heroic.' Just do what you're instructed to do. We assume that one of the guys with you will change the password after you're finished. They should then drive you to Davidson's private party. You'll be taken into a small anteroom in another part of the house and asked for what you've brought, probably by a member of the household staff. You'll hand over the briefcase and they'll escort you back to your costume party.

"That's the end of your part in the operation. Simone will have left the Halloween party after being invited by one of our people on the inside. You'll return from your task, find out that she took off, possibly hear the news from your coworkers, and go home. At that point you are free and clear of any obligation to us. Your government will thank you officially for your work once we get these guys behind bars."

This didn't sound too dangerous, at least my part of it was straightforward and didn't seem to be terribly risky.

"We know that devices that can send and/or receive signals will be monitored at the Halloween party. This means that using your cell phone for any mission related communication is out. We will have a passive device that will be implanted in a button of your costume that does not emit a signal. This will still allow us to track you when you're driven to the office and then back to your Halloween party.

"Your safety is very important to us and we want to make sure that your part of the engagement goes especially smoothly. Be yourself. Talk about any of the things you talk about with Simone or your coworkers. But, say nothing about this action. We know on three other occasions you've been asked to get files, data, and other things for your bosses at odd hours. It's not uncommon in your job. You'll do this with as much excitement as when Silverstein, the outgoing VP, asked you to go to the office on New Year's Day two years ago for a similar mission. You'll be traveling in similar company on a similar assignment."

This shocked me a little. I'd forgotten when I'd gotten that call relatively early that day to get some files from the office and bring them to Davidson's house. Silverstein had sent a car, driver, and two "security" guys to accompany me. At the time I didn't think anything about it.

Now I was trying to remember every detail of the day, but I'd been drinking pretty heavily the night before. I only really remembered how pissed my girlfriend was when the phone rang just a few hours after we got home.

I also recalled never having seen those guys before!

OK. I can do this. I will do this. I assured myself that there was little to worry about.

The general called a few minute break and Simone came over to me, looking concerned. "Are you OK? I mean, with all of this?"

"Sure," I told her with somewhat limited self-confidence. "I can do this. Piece of cake."

She hugged me quickly and excused herself to speak to Clint. I watched her talk quietly to him, seemingly trying to convince him of something. Finally, he nodded.

When the general reconvened the session, Clint leaned over, whispered something into his ear. The general nodded. He got up, dimmed the lights, and a video began playing silently.

"Ed, we've just told you the plan. Things usually go as planned because we make sure of it with an array of tools. However, this operation is so important that we are working with less than ideal intelligence."

I heard him speaking, but the video was so compelling that it was difficult to concentrate on anything else.

A telephoto shot from behind a slender woman walking toward a crowded street in the late afternoon played for some time as she talked to another woman she met along the way. They were both wearing very little. Both had on bikini tops. One had on very short shorts, the other had some cloth wrapped around her hips.

Another camera picked them up in the crowded street, dancing with the crowd. I suspected it was Rio during Carnival, but it was just a guess.

The video changed suddenly to a party in what appeared to be a luxurious home. It was at night with people around a huge pool, a band, and large wait staff serving everyone food and drinks.

The next shot was a shocking cut. It seemed to be a piece of a porn film. A woman was lying atop and astride a man who was fucking her ass. The camera stayed on this until it appeared to be jarred and moved quickly. The video then returned to the same woman but now with what seemed to be another man, a black man under her this time, also in her ass. It was then that a woman came up behind her and, after licking the cock going in and out of her anus, slowly began snaking a bright green dildo, which had to be at least two feet long and very shiny, up her asshole -- along with the cock that was already there.

Though I was both excited and impressed by this, I had no idea why they were showing this to me. Taking a quick look around the table, I saw mostly bored faces and even one or two yawns. Either they'd seen this one before or I was hallucinating! Maybe both.

When I glanced back at the screen there was now an additional man's cock in her ass along with the dildo.

This woman obviously didn't have an asshole. Instead, she had a not-so-mini version of the Chunnel. Two cocks -- good sized ones, at that -- and a dildo, half of which seemed to have disappeared up there too, were all crammed in this woman's colon.

I hadn't realized that the general was still speaking. The video was playing that same old tune so I returned to listening to him.

"...very possible that any of our female agents will be doing these kinds of sex acts. Now, Ed, we must know, to the best of your ability to be honest with us, how you would react to seeing any of them in this kind of activity."

Though I was still listening my eyes were glued to the screen. The camera had moved up the woman's body, a taut sexual body, still wearing her bikini top but not so it would cover anything. I had just enough time to begin to think about what the general had said when the camera got to her face. The other woman, the one manning the dildo, had now removed it from her ass and had given it to her to suck on.

As she was thrown off the men and rolled onto her knees on the floor, a circle of men formed around her. She smiled up at them as they jerked themselves off, some almost violently, and continued to lick and suck the green dildo, the one that had just been giving her a three-pronged colonoscopy.

This grossed me out and made me want to jerk off at the same time. Part of me felt guilty about that, but this whole evening was beginning to be one large set of compromises.

Ed, I told myself, if you want good things, you take the bad things with it.

Or maybe it was the other way around...

Finally, the men began coming. One by one, and sometimes more than one at a time, each emptied his semen onto her outstretched tongue and open mouth. Some, not content with seeing her so content, decided to come in her eyes. She closed them, but someone apparently didn't like that. Suddenly she was held down firmly by some arms and two women forced her eyes open as another man held her head up.

Apparently group-think made the rest of the men target the poor woman's wide-open eyes. At least a dozen men shot into her eyes, a large pool of semen formed, so large in fact that she simply looked like she had golf balls in place of her eye sockets.

Even after the men -- and there must have been several dozen who came on her - were done coming, they held her there so the semen could just stay on her eyeballs. It was clear from the expression on her face that it was not pleasant, but she kept silent, seemingly fearful that, if she complained, something much worse would happen to her.

With no formal ending to the video, it abruptly stopped. The general hit the lights button and they came up slowly to a slightly less bright illumination of the room.

"...Erzy, Orm, and their friends celebrating Carnival last year," the general was still talking, but I had not been paying attention. "She and two of the other women along with two of the men were agents of ours. The next day we found her body and this is how it looked."

The screen showed a dimmer version of one of the more abhorrent photos from almost an hour ago. It had registered in my mind because of the brutality the poor woman had suffered, only to then have her life taken from her thousands of miles from home.

"... and our other agents would have suffered similar fates if they had attempted any kind of intervention. So the question for you, Ed, is this: What if things do not go according to plan? What if you are asked to go into the private party at Davidson's house to deliver the briefcase? What if one or more of our agents are there? What if it's Simone?

"Could you simply make your delivery and leave? Or, maybe even a more difficult situation will arise where you'll be asked to be involved somehow. Could you display indifference?"

I was still unsure how Simone was going to get from the office Halloween party into the private Davidson party and why I would want to display indifference, but I made a mental note to ask Simone about it later.

All the faces at the table were closely observing me. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I stared at a place on the table and thought about the reality. My feelings for Simone were so strong. I knew I was in love with her (even with her insane career choice!), but I really tried to figure out how I'd feel if I saw her sucking off other men, maybe even dozens of them, at Davidson's house.

It was impossible. "General, I don't know. I'd want to do the right thing. But, obviously doing anything to get myself involved would only harm Simone."

"Son, it would harm Simone, it might destroy years of planning, and you might find a gruesome death, too."

The tall black woman raised her head. The general looked at her and asked, "Miss Lucetina, have you something to add?"

The ravishing woman looked at me seriously and said, "One more thing you may not realize is that capturing these deviates might lead us to an even more terrifying gang. They are so secretive that we only know them by the moniker 'Laughing Heads.' We've gotten tips over the last few years that Erzy or Arty may have had some dealing with the Laughing Heads. If this is true and capturing the Orm family can help us to discover more about Laughing Head, well, you'll be doing your country a huge favor. You will be helping to make the world a safer place."

The room tensely listened to her and then after a brief silence, the general continued, "This is one of the main reasons why we've planned this evening's meeting. We need to make sure that you are not going to deviate from the plan. You're the young up-and-comer in the office, the young, eager guy. You'll get the request, go to your office, retrieve what's been requested, deliver it to Davidson's private party at the house, return to your party, and when you've had your fill at the party, go home by yourself.

"Can you do that?"

I saw how futile any other option was. "Yes, general, I can do that."





Deep Secret Ch. 20 - Sadists



But, being here with Simone made my fears seem so meaningless. She was a hero -- or I suppose I should say heroine -- in the true sense of the word. This is what she did for a living. She risked her life for something beyond herself. She did this to protect freedoms, to keep people safe, to get rid of evil. Simone was a covert agent who did whatever it took to get the job done.

She was James Bond!

I was amazed at her and her convictions, her commitment, her decision to serve her country, and her zeal in all things. What an amazing confluence of genetics, life events, and internal developmental processes made this unique person. Looking at this beautiful woman, one of the first things that would come to mind was "model" for a men's magazine. The last thing that would come to mind was Secret Agent. 

I was about to yell to her, now that she'd been out of the shower for a while, to ask her more questions when I heard music start to play in the other room. Then she turned on the speakers in the bedroom. It was an old song, a bluesy song from the nineteen thirties I thought. A small jazz band was backing up a singer with a voice like Bessie Smith.





Deep Secret Ch. 21 - Luxuriation



It had been a great evening: fun for all. My wife Amanda had taken care of the last minute details for the kids' trick-or-treating the following evening. All the costumes had been carefully fitted and as our little angels took turns going outside and ringing our doorbell they had turned into a pirate, a princess, and one little devil.

Thankfully, for this year at least, there was not one of them who wanted to be something particular (i.e., something requiring an expensive store-bought get-up) We had nary a Smurf, a Snooki, a Michael Jackson, a vampire, a Spongebob, a lobster, a gorilla, or an Elvis. To be more correct for that time, though, I should say that none of them wanted to be Superman or Lois Lane (i.e., Dean Cain or Teri Hatcher), Dr. Quinn – Medicine Woman, Scully or Mulder, Connie Chung, Kramer, either of the brothers on Frasier,  Young Indiana Jones, either of the brothers on Wings, Doogie Howser, or Blossom.

All the crying and fussing had ended and we had three wonderful kids fast asleep. As a special treat for me, Amanda had worn her policewoman's costume before throwing me face down on the bed and handcuffing me to its metal frame.

"Ed Spectere, you have the right to remain silent," she said and went on to tell me that anything I said could be used against me in a divorce court. I told her I wasn't talking and that I wanted to call my lawyer.

Wait a minute, I thought to myself. Amanda is a lawyer and she had worked for the Justice Department before we started our family. Wouldn't that constitute a conflict of interest? Asking for assistance from the person who was taking away my rights seemed problematic to me! Plus, wasn't there something about a wife testifying against her husband?

But this inane divagation was interrupted when she playfully slapped me – I assume it was because the lawyer we use when we need to be represented by council is young and quite hot – unlocked the handcuffs, flipped me over on my back, and pulled down my pants. Almost as soon as she informed me that I had the right to one blowjob, I was pushing against the back of her throat. It felt wonderful. I was a lucky man. I was married to a woman who was a terrific mom and an enticing – slightly less young, but still quite hot – wife.

She had stripped down to her bra and panties. Crouched between my thighs below me on the bed I was at her mercy and she teased me with her tongue, her mouth, and her throat. She'd never been able to completely master the art of deep throating, though it was not for lack of trying and dedication, years ago she did get comfortable with my cock hitting the back of her mouth. It turned me on when I'd essentially fuck her mouth and she would play with herself. Then she'd always wind up with a climax as I had mine.

As her head moved rapidly up and down on my cock, its head beating against the back of her throat, I felt her firmly grasp at the rest of the shaft, generally an indication that she was ready.

Being a guy, I was ready most of the time and if she wanted me to come in her mouth, well, who was I to deny my sexy wife one of her pleasures?

I could both see and feel that she was playing with herself rapidly and moaning for me to come, this was such a turn-on that in almost no time I began to shoot off in her mouth.

When she felt the first shot hit inside her mouth, it set her off. I could feel her clamp down on my cock, not wanting any of my semen to spill out, as the rest of her body did a kind of clamping of its own. Farther down the bed, I could see her hips pressing firmly against her hand, apparently adding to the intensity of her own orgasm.

We both continued to bathe in the throes of our comingled orgasms for a wonderfully extended period of pleasure. Eventually, we both were spent and she carefully pulled her mouth off my dick, but seemed to not have swallowed any of my cum. After all these years, whenever she did give me a blowjob, she simply swallowed matter-of-factly. It was a little surprising that she had kept it all in her mouth.

She crawled up the bed – and me upon it – to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I don't know why, but it excited me knowing that she was saving my load in her mouth as she lay down beside me, wrapping herself over my body, and lightly stroking my chest.

As we lay there I could hear the cum swishing around her mouth. This too was unlike her. It was hot, but new for her! And I was turned on and afraid of this at the same time. Was she changing into someone new or was she just trying to keep our sex life spiced up?

Whatever the cause I was not going to look at cum-filled gift houswife in the mouth. The long day at the office and that orgasm had tired me out. As part of my brain wondered about Amanda's new and sexy behavior, another part of me began to drift off to sleep.

A few minutes later I was awakened by a gentle rocking of the bed. I slowly opened my eyes to see her roughly playing with herself. This too was unexpected: whenever we both had come we always conked out. We almost never had sex (at least since the kids were born) more than once in an evening.

Amanda noticed that I was awake and rolled over, still playing with herself. Through the mouthful of cum she managed to say to me, "Baby, jerk off in my mouth. Please." (At least that's what I think she said, you know, because of the mouthful of cum.)

This new Amanda was full of surprises. When we last had a conversation about it, probably more than ten years ago, she'd told that she felt disconnected to me when I did that and that the experience was too objective for her. It made her feel like I could be jerking off in anyone's mouth – or even a piece of tissue.

Though I was surprised that she wanted a new mouthful of cum in addition to the one she'd been keeping safe for some ten or fifteen minutes, as I said, who was I to deny her this apparently new pleasure?

I got up on my knees, but Amanda had other plans. Still on her back, she moved herself so that her head was slightly off the side of the bed and motioned for me to stand astride her head. Doing as I was instructed (not as dumb as you might think!), she quickly grabbed my cock and began to rub it around her wet lips, occasionally licking the head with her cum coated tongue. Not only did this feel pretty terrific, but watching her below me with one hand still going at her pussy and the other displaying unusual slovenliness as her saliva and my previous orgasm's juice intermingled with new pre-cum in and around her mouth and on my cock.

Small rivulets of the rich, mixed, and bubbly solution soon flowed slowly over her upper lip, across her cheek, and onto her lower eyelashes, hair, and temple. At the sight and feel of this extraordinary action, along with the aroma of her pussy, enhancing my pleasure, I could soon feel my next orgasm about to happen. Amanda could feel it too and she pulled my cock into her mouth. She reached up under me, grabbed my butt cheeks with her hand, and shoved me deep. I felt my cock, deep in her mouth, and the top side of my cock being swaddled by her tongue. I couldn't remember the last time I felt that.

Nevertheless, looking down at this messy and incredibly sexy woman, her breasts slowly moving in their inimitable fashion, had me on the verge of shooting again. Amanda, of course, knew what she was doing to me and pushed my butt hard, shoving my cock even deeper into her throat. The effect was like what I would imagine a shot of adrenaline does for the body's nervous system.

I began to feel that familiar, inexorable feeling: my climax was happening whether Amanda or I did anything else or not. I simply stood there and went along for the ride.

My wife had been moaning since she first awakened me, but I was so preoccupied with the new behavior that I hadn't realized it until just now, now that I was about to shoot a load of semen deep in her upside down throat. She knew me so well and knew that it was about to happen too. Before I knew it, she had withdrawn my cock almost completely, with both hands on my cock, one above the other, and bathed the head of my cock with rapid tongue lashes, almost like I did when I was licking her clitoris.

It was so stimulating that I was taken somewhere else. I don't know what happens in the brain when we experience orgasms, but I went to that place. The aroma of her pussy, the soft warm bedroom lights glittering off the mixed semen and saliva now thickly coating the lower half of her face, her two hands working my cock like they were moving up a baseball bat, trying to see who would bat first, and her wonderful tongue and lips causing the most unimaginable sensations on my cock head all combined to make the orgasm as extraordinary as the evening was. I shot cum into her mouth while she continued to manipulate me for what seemed like a dozen or more shots.

Amanda moaned loudly with each one and even without her hand on her pussy, she was surely coming along with me, stroke for stroke and shot for shot.

We stayed in that position for quite some time. I know it must have taken me several minutes to realize where I was. Finally, I realized that Amanda had stopped all of her ministrations and was basking, too, in the warmth of post-orgasm bliss.

She continued to suck on me until I was a more normal size. I slipped out of her mouth and fell onto the bed exhausted, feeling otherworldly of course, but exhausted, nonetheless.

I was a bit too tired to fall asleep so I moved around to the head of the bed and propped a pillow behind myself, staring at Amanda's sexy body. As I was slowly returning to reality I heard the sound of gargling. Looking to her head, I realized that she was gargling with my two orgasms, at least all that had not spilled out. She appeared to be enjoying the sensation, so much so that she moved a hand back to her pussy and the other to her breast. These had the affect of exciting her suddenly, enough to have another orgasm as she closed her mouth and simply swished the white stuff around and over her tongue.

The view was perfect. I couldn't get it up for a little while at least, but watching my beautiful wife caressing many of my most cherished parts of herself was a heap of fun. She looked so lovely and sexy in the light. I was indeed a lucky man.

Eventually, the activity ceased and she came up to lie by me. As she got settled with my arm around her and some of the sheets draped over her, she ultimately swallowed what was in her mouth, ending with a somewhat gruff gulp. After a few seconds that was followed by a cum burp.

"What are you," I asked her, "a truck driver? Where are your manners?"

"Hey, mister," she replied, "most truck drivers are hard working people. They're way above da rotten manners of dis low class broad!" Smiling at her imitation of a New Yawker, she cuddled next to me.

"OK," I said, knowing when I'd been one-upped, "I'll grant you that was a dumb and insensitive choice of expression." However, I could rarely settle for not having the last word – wise or not – so I added, "But, I beg to differ: Dis right here is a no class broad."

She satisfied me with a low chortle. (Thank you, my dear, I thought.) She grabbed the remote and turned on the television. I glanced at it for a few seconds before my mind wandered. I remembered something familiar about our experience this evening.

It took me back, as many events had recently, to that Halloween party of quite some time ago.





Deep Secret Ch. 21 - Luxuriation



I don't even know what or how she did it, but there was this feeling of rubbing all through the lower side of my cock, from the head all the way to my scrotum. I couldn't tell what she was doing, but it felt like there were two Simone's working me over. Whatever it was it was about to make me come.

And come, again, I did.

This time I was pretty far back in her mouth and she climaxed immediately as she felt my first constriction. She pretty much went on autopilot and so did I. We both were like a symbiotic finely tuned machine, each of us matching the other.

By the time I'd opened my eyes (and I don't even remember when I closed them), I was soft in her mouth. Her eyes were still closed and I could sense she was just finishing the last few moments of her orgasm.

Letting me fall out of her mouth, she moved her head back and gargled with what looked to be the semen of many men. In some rather demented way, I was proud of what I'd produced as she stared up at me with my cum bubbling in her open mouth and throat.

The extra movement and playing with the two loads of semen made her have another of her surprise orgasms. It struck her from out of the blue as her body heaved and closed her mouth to try to contain the pearly liquid from spilling out. It was no use, though, and while she was enjoying the climax a small river of cum spilled out of one side of her mouth, down her cheek, and then slowly dribbled off her chin leaving two or three long strings of cum dangling.

Her head remained bowed as the last vestiges of the orgasm had their way with her sexuality. Eventually she looked up at me with a smile on her face. With a hint of cum in her mouth she said, "Wow. You've never done that before."

"Ditto," was all I could say, watching the lovely icicles of cum swaying back and forth from her chin as she smiled up at me.

"Oh, gee. Look at me. I'm a mess," she said as she tried to gather up as much of the cum on her face as she could and slurp it back in her mouth.

When she felt she'd gotten enough, she went into the bathroom and washed up. She walked out with a hand towel rubbing some cum out of her sweater right over one of her amazing breasts.

"So," she said, "are you set for tonight? Why don't you pick me up at 9:00; there's probably no need to get there when the party starts. You're better off with me in that dress arriving after the lightweights go home."

"That sounds good," I replied, remembering how good it felt to sit still and taking deep breaths after all that sexual activity.

"Listen, I need to make sure I get invited to the private party at the house while you take care of business at the office. So, it's been decided that I'm going to sing that Jessica Rabbit song. I've got an arrangement for the band and I'm all set."

Of course she can. She's an amazing woman and I knew that singing was one of her many talents. How foolish of me to think there was anything she couldn't do. And, it really wouldn't matter. Put her in that dress – or dressed in a burlap sack for that matter – and put her on a stage: no one in his right mind wouldn't want her for his private party.

"So, how's that Arzi thing working out?" I asked her.

"You know, we're still not sure," She replied. "We've decided simply to call him Arty, at least for now."

After finishing cleaning up she looked terrific and was about to leave when she stopped, sat next to me on the sofa, and said, "Ed, I'm so glad you were here this morning. I really had a great time. I'm starting to fall in love with you and I don't want to rush this. These days, I'm just not myself.

"I mean, we have this Orm project and tonight could make a big difference in my career. If Arty is there and I can find him, well, if that leads to his capture it means a big promotion for me."

"I just hope I can help," I said, trying to be reassuring and not feeling terrified.

"Simply having your support and care is more than enough for me. I know you want what's best."

Little did I know what I wanted. In fact, I had no idea what was really happening nor what was about to.





Deep Secret Ch. 22 - Opulence



In the classic 1959 Alfred Hitchcock film, North by Northwest, there's an interesting bit that comes about two-thirds of the way through the film when Roger Thornhill, played by Cary Grant, and the Professor (Leo G. Carroll, for those of a certain age, TV's Topper), a covert government agency head, are outdoors, walking to a waiting airplane. They're talking, but the sound of the aircraft prevents us, the audience, from hearing any of it. We are left in the dark. It is Hitchcock's way of showing the audience that key information is passed from the Professor to the formerly unsuspecting ad agency executive, but now in-on-the-plot Thornhill, without letting the viewer know what that information is. It's such a simple device, but it's pivotal for the third act of the film.

While it'd be foolish to compare myself to Cary Grant or even any run of the mill leading man, a sad reality dawned on me: there was no Professor in my story. Between Simone and Clint I guess I trusted Simone most, but honestly I'd never seen General Ostrow, Hastings, or any of the others before that clandestine subterranean meeting and didn't expect to see any of them again. It just would have been nice to know more about what was really happening as we approached that fateful Halloween night's event.

The Roger Rabbit costume that Simone had gotten for me was surprisingly comfortable. The mask was an elaborate, three-dimensional thing that had some kind of mesh over much of the face, but it was painted in such a way that I could see almost perfectly, but you could not see my face.

I decided it would be fun to drive to Simone's in full costume – it was Halloween, after all – and it was. There were teenage and young adult revelers on the streets adding to the night's festivity. It was a chilly night, though. The moonless sky only added to the otherworldliness of the evening.

Simone was waiting for me downstairs at her place, wrapped in a fur coat. I couldn't tell if it was part of her outfit or not, but she looked like a million bucks, just what I could see of her: red lipstick, make-up, and earrings. I completely believed that her hair was natural: long and redheaded. It made her look extraordinarily sexy – and this was before one could see anything about her body. In her heels she was over six feet tall.

She shined. She sparkled. She was radiant.

The moment she opened the door I was bathed in the familiar scent of her perfume. She threw her bag in the back and got in. Once she was settled her coat opened a little. She was wearing a pearl necklace with a Roger Rabbit diamond pendant. The pearls and diamonds looked real to me, but I wasn't sure if they were. What? I'm just a dumb guy. What do I know from diamonds and pearls? Regardless, it was certainly a nice touch.

Furthermore, it simply felt good to have her next to me. She told me that the plans had changed and that Davidson had been forced, for unknown reasons, to have the private party at his mansion, the same place that the office Halloween part was going to be held. She explained that, although this meant a change in the team's planning for the evening, all the bases were covered.

We were pretty quiet as we drove to the party. About halfway there she asked me if I wanted a quick blowjob. It was a tempting offer, but after discussing it we decided that doing it while driving – and as Jessica and Roger Rabbit – was probably not the best idea on many different levels.

The house had originally been designed as a luxury inn, but over the years it had morphed into a rich man's estate – a rich man who did a lot of entertaining.

We followed signs that showed us where to park and walked quite some distance on a concrete path that meandered through a dark and beautiful landscape to the house. From the outside it looked like a 19th Century French chateau or a British manor house. Of course, it was neither.

Once we left the parking area and were on the walkway it was quiet except for a low murmuring sound, like machinery. At one point the path diverged. We decided to be adventurous and took the route not going in the direction of the house. For at least a hundred yards or so we heard the machinery noise getting louder until we came upon a greenhouse. The noise appeared to be coming from the back, probably a heating unit.

"Hey, mister, how about that blowjob?" Simone asked me in a low, sultry voice a la Jessica Rabbit, while opening the door to the dark greenhouse.

"Uh, I, uh," I stammered. Of course it would be nice to have a blowjob, but we were still Roger and Jessica Rabbit. What if we were discovered? At that moment, I hated that I was so responsible. How foolish of me.

She perseverated and I caved in less than fifteen seconds of voicing some pretty inane reasons not to have her give a blowjob. (Sometimes I can be really dumb.)

In addition to the welcomed warmth, the greenhouse had some dim safety lights on and we walked through slowly seeing the beautiful backlit flowers and assorted flora. At the end of a row was a wooden set of three or four steps, probably used for maintenance to the overhead sprinkler system.

"Wonderful," said Simone, leading me up the steps so I was standing, looking out across the plants. Fortunately, it was next to a post. Just as I grabbed it, Simone unzipped my Roger Rabbit red overalls and pulled out my dick. Standing on the set of steps, it was right at face level.

Simone began simply. She slowly, but with a fair amount of pressure, licked the head, around and around, holding my shaft with both of her gloved hands.

Once I was fully erect – and, after all, it did take a full 20 seconds or so! – she stopped to explain, "Ed, listen, though I want to do this right, I don't want to mess up my make-up. Do you mind if I just deep throat you?"

Now, what kind of a question is that?

"Sweetie, whatever you want to do is great. You know how much I love when you suck..."

I didn't have to finish the statement. Maybe it was that I simply couldn't finish the statement, because at that moment she moved her head close to my body, her face actually touching my red overalls, my cock deeply ensconced in her throat.

It was so sudden. It was heaven. It left me speechless.

I couldn't see her well in the darkened greenhouse, but I could feel her tongue working its magic on the underside of my shaft while its tip felt like it was stroking down near my balls. I never figured out how this was (a) do-able and (b) pleasurable for her. It seemed like it would be so difficult to do at all, much less have the feeling be an orgasm inducing one.

Regardless of the mechanics of it, she was having fun. This I could tell by the moaning coming from somewhere deep inside her. I ran my hands over her redheaded hair and thought about how natural it felt. You'd never know it was a wig.

Before I knew it, Simone knew that everything she was doing was leading me to a climax. She continued to suck, lick, and throat me so that I was putty in her hands, as it were.

Just before I was about to come she did something that surprised me. She pulled me out of her throat, grabbed my butt with both hands, and started forcefully shoving me in and out of her mouth and throat. She'd pull me all the way out, her mouth still wide open, then shove me deep down her throat, then she'd repeat the process. She rarely did this just as I was near coming so it was a surprise and, though pleasurable, it had the effect of making me take a little longer to finally come.

When I did though, I was just on a reentry and it was wonderful. Her tongue pushed me up to the roof of her mouth, her lips made some kind of motion, tightening their "O" shape. The whole surprise maneuver caused my first shot to fire into her open throat. She gagged from the surprise shot and then held my cock firmly on her tongue so that all of the other shots bathed her tongue in my cock juice.

On each shot, she made a small squeal. In fact, I think I made one too. After the second shot, I think it was, she began to climax herself. We were probably a sight, if anyone had seen us, tall Jessica Rabbit standing up, giving Roger's dick a suck for all it was worth. And it was worth a lot.

After eight or nine bursts of cum in her mouth, I began to feel that the orgasm was ending. Another two or three small shots ended the array. Though I was just about through, Jessica/Simone was just at the height of her orgasm. She kept me completely enclosed in her mouth for at least a minute or so until the end of her climax. It was a feeling that I could relive and relive for eternity.

Eventually, though, we must all move on, as they say. Slowly and carefully, while maintaining a tight seal around my cock, Jessica/Simone swallowed the mouthful of my juices. In fact, she did it in two separate swallows, first a large one, followed by a smaller one. The extra pressure that I felt each time she swallowed almost made me start to get hard again, but I quickly quashed the idea. We did need to wrap this up and get to the party. Oh yeah. Remember the party?

I was feeling awfully close to wanting to drive home and curl up with Simone. That can happen to anyone after a great blowjob, I think. But, duty called. I was going to be doing something to help the world, I thought to myself, as the cooler air of the greenhouse surrounded my naked penis.

Of course, I was also going to be helping out my girlfriend. We had become so close and the relationship had grown in just a few months. It felt wonderful to be with her. Yet, now, as I got tucked back into my cartoon red pants and led down the steps, I began to consider the evening ahead.

I was still a little unclear on Simone's role in either of the two parties, when she was going to leave, what was going to happen when I went to the office for the files, and what was going to happen when I returned. Was she going to still be there or was she going to be at the other party?

It was all starting to bounce around my head as we left the greenhouse and wandered on the moonlit path back to the main route to the mansion. I couldn't quite figure out what I was supposed to do, but I knew that Simone would give me my cues.

We walked up across a great courtyard to the entrance where several security people were standing, emotionless expressions on their faces. One of them asked for my invitation and, eyeing it quickly, opened the door to a flood of sound, light, and gaiety.

After some pretty young thing dressed like Florence Nightingale – but, at least from the photos I'd seen of Ms. Nightingale, much prettier – checked my invitation, we were welcomed through a foyer the size of my apartment onto a landing a few steps up from and overlooking a large space, chockablock with costumed revelers enjoying the merriment. The warm, comfortable room was a cross between the inn from Holiday Inn and a luxury hotel lobby. There were seating arrangements along the sides and in the middle of most of the space, each area generally focused around a large but low table, covered with table cloths, and surrounded with sofas and comfy arm chairs. At one end of the room was a fireplace large enough that one could drive a pickup truck through it. At the other end was a 10 or 12 piece band on risers at the back of a stage. At the moment a man and woman dance team was working beautifully on a tap dance to a Cole Porter song.

The party was filled with an amazing variety of costumes, some quite traditional. Everyone was there: Batman, Sam Spade, Sleeping Beauty, Mae West, Stan and Ollie, Mickey Mouse, several firemen, Superman, a few doctors and nurses, Marilyn Monroe, and a couple of football players, to name a few. I couldn't tell who anyone was. In fact, I could have been at any party for the lack of knowledge of who any of the other guests were. Were these people my coworkers?

Who could tell?

Another pretty young thing dressed like a Las Vegas show girl offered to take my coat, while her co-coat checker/showgirl offered to take Simone's. As I was finishing removing my coat from the comically out of proportion Roger Rabbit costume, I heard Simone tell the girl that she'd keep hers on for now.

As we walked down the few steps to the large, sunken living room – though it appeared to be about half the size of a football field! – I thought about the briefing for the night's mission. As I said, I was still a little fuzzy on the who and when and how of my part: Who was going to know I was there in this Roger Rabbit costume? When would I be asked to leave for the office? How was I supposed to go to some place in my office to which I'd never been?

It all seemed pretty nebulous, but, again, I trusted Simone and her troop. I trusted they had their plan. And the less I knew about it, I hoped, the better.

We mingled with a few people I knew. I could tell the first woman with whom I worked by her voice. She was from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and had this cute drawl, pretty rare for the people in this part of the country. What was even funnier was her costume. She was dressed as Marie-Antoinette, her costume a cross between the Sofia Coppola/Kirsten Dunst version and the one by Le Brun. One thing I'd never noticed about her were her breasts. Maybe it was the costume or a Wonderbra. Regardless, there was quite a bit of boob thrust upward over the top of her dress. After I introduced Simone to her, she introduced us to several of the others with whom she was speaking. With a few of them, once I knew, it was not hard to see some distinctive traits. With a few others, their costumes were still quite convincing.

We walked around and mingled. Many of the people did as I did and took off their masks, helmets, or whatever was covering their faces so they could chow down on the lush and decorated platters of food and drink. Simone and I found a cozy intersection of a few couches, plunked ourselves down, and began to talk to a couple I knew pretty well from my department.

About fifteen minutes later, Simone excused herself. I expected that she'd gone to the ladies room, but after some time it seemed like she'd been gone a long time. I began to think about the "plan" for the evening when the lights dimmed slightly. The room, accompanied by the orchestra, faded to silence.

A curtain had been drawn across the stage and the light from a small, bright spotlight suddenly appeared in the middle of the curtain, immediately followed by a collective hush of stillness in the crowd.

A beautiful bare leg, with a reddish stiletto heeled shoe surprised everyone when it slowly snaked out from between the two curtains. It appeared to be the longest and most beautifully shaped leg one had ever seen. After it put the shoe down on the stage floor, very slowly a round, large pink shimmering object began to grow out of the same opening in the curtain, eventually revealing itself as only I knew at that moment as one of Simone's large breasts.

The moment the band started to vamp with a familiar refrain, the curtain slowly opened as she appeared, still with her fur wrapped around her shoulders, only part of the front of her dress visible to the audience. It was no secret now though, that this woman had cleavage galore.

Slowly and in time to the beat of the band she walked sexily around the stage. As the band became a little louder, she stopped, with her back to the crowd. She let the coat slip off her shoulders and down to just above the crack between her cheeks revealing the fact that the dress was backless down to just about that same location. From her long sexy torso, to her narrow waist and then flaring out to the rise at her hips, she was lovely. The audience was painfully aware that they were looking at a rare thing of beauty, but still being teased by it.

"Who was this person?" was the question in everyone's mind. You could hear a low buzz of whispers around the room. After being mesmerized by her hips slowly moving to the music, she threw the coat off to the side of the stage and turned around to face the audience. The whispers stopped as the figure of this creature made everyone gasp at her sexy beauty.

She walked forward to the front of the stage and began to sing:





Deep Secret Ch. 22 - Opulence



"You know," Simone began, "I could use another go at that cock of yours – I mean, if you're up for it."

That was the Simone I knew. In the face of danger and adversity she rose to the challenge by wanting to suck my cock. How could I not love this woman?

"That sounds, um, great," I replied, realizing that I still had a semi-hard-on from her performance. I could still see her arms covered with those long purple gloves and that beautiful smooth skin that was visible almost everywhere from the tops of the gloves over her biceps down to just above her areolas and nipples. I began to wonder, too, how she didn't fall out of that dress, especially when she shimmied and when she bowed to accept the audience's applause. I meant to ask her about that.

At the moment, though, she'd grabbed the front of my big red pants and pulled me along the corridor to what I hoped would be an empty room. She knocked and then, not waiting for a response, opened the door and we slipped inside, Simone locking the door behind us.

The room had a dim light from a small lamp on a desk. It was lined with bookshelves, paintings, and a few pieces of sculpture on pedestals. At one end was an unlit fireplace. Simone took a quick look at the desk, opening a few drawers, but finding nothing of interest sat down in the desk chair, motioning me over to her. As I walked up she leaned forward in the chair and adjusted herself to comfortably face my crotch.

For the second time this evening she found the way to open the front of Roger Rabbit's pants. In no time she was swabbing the head of my cock. I wanted to try to rearrange my underwear, but in no time at all the feelings she was creating on my dick made me forget about any underwear discomfort.

It was a moment I'll never forget. Not fifteen minutes ago this woman was singing and dancing to a rapt crowd, wearing a nearly R-rated outfit, and in general giving everyone in the place a proverbial hard-on – even the women. (Who doesn't like to look at attractive and talented people perform? Throw in some amazing boobs and no one could take his or her eyes off of her.)

And yet, here I was, at the time the luckiest man in the world because that same woman was now head to head with my balls, licking and sucking me like the pro that she was. However, because I had just recently come in the greenhouse with the help of her technically superb equipment this time was going to be a little longer before I could climax.

I vacillated between caressing her temporarily redheaded head and looking down at her amazing technique and looking around the room. At one end was a mirror and I was able to see the two of us in it. The picture of Jessica Rabbit sucking Roger Rabbit's cock was suddenly very funny. I let out a laugh.

Simone looked up at me like, "Is something wrong? Is something funny?"

After mumbling some excuse about the mirror, she hummed in agreement at the humor of the picture and went back about her sexy business.

She was now holding my cock sideways, letting her tongue and lips caress the length of it, making sure it was wet to easily slip down her throat. After feeling secure in the knowledge that it was soaking, she put me to the back of her mouth and then began to fuck my cock with her throat. Moving rapidly in and out, each time she'd hit my abs, her tongue would take a swipe at the area between the base of my cock and the top of my ball sack.

After less time than I expected and quite a bit of moaning on her part, I was ready to come again. Of course, she knew that it was so. She moved her head slightly lower in an attempt to show me that she wanted me to come on her tongue with her mouth wide open. I didn't necessarily want that because it felt so good being completely engulfed in her throat.

In her uncanny way of knowing, I guess she figured that out. She, instead, went back to fucking my cock, now keeping her lips tight around my cock so that it was like a noose strangling my cock on each movement in and out.

That had the effect that we both wanted. I began to feel it from somewhere deep in my body. It would happen now even if she stopped doing anything. And that was kind of what happened.

She pulled me one last time into the depths of her throat, her tongue now stopped swabbing away at the base of my cock and tickling my balls. She simply closed off and sealed me inside of her with her lips. I know I'd never been any deeper, nor could I get any deeper inside of her.

Then my first shot passed down through my internal plumbing. I was sure she could feel it the moment it passed over her lower lip. Her eyes were tightly closed and she began to climax, her body clenching each time another shot of semen passed her lips.

After the first few, I assumed she wanted to taste it when she moved me back out almost all the way. She kept her tongue firmly under the head of my cock and let the last several squirts of semen pool onto her tongue. It looked so sexy in the light of that on little lamp. My semen appeared so white and thick.

I felt like a proud papa.

Soon I was simply out of semen. I could feel a few more small squirts happen, but I think very little came out. Regardless, Simone appeared to be enjoying herself, her orgasm had started with my first shot and now was on auto pilot. She was just going and going, just like that battery bunny. I don't think she would have stopped if there had been a fire alarm. She was on another planet.

Fortunately, there was no fire alarm so we kept up the climaxing until she was done. I was a little jealous, wishing my orgasms would last that long, but it passed. It was fun to watch this lovely lady enjoying my cum and enjoying herself.

As all things must end, so did her orgasm. After sucking any remnants off my cock, she let it fall from, and then closed, her mouth. She swished my cum around the inside of her mouth for several moments as she showed me her prize and savored the orgasm that seemed to come with it.

"Wow, that was even better than before," she said after a while. I had just noticed how we couldn't hear any of the party with the door closed. This place was very well sound proofed. "I mean, I enjoyed sucking you in the greenhouse, but this is so much more comfortable, sitting in a chair like a business executive in a home office."

I realized that my legs were weak and sat down on a nearby sofa. After just enjoying the moment she said, "We should be getting back to the party, but before we do, I just want to go over the plan."

Huh? I thought to myself. "What do you mean? I thought the plan was going to stay flexible until you had more information."

"Well," she said, putting away her compact after doing that lip purse thing that women always do, "I don't know what's going to happen. You're right. But I want you to be as uninvolved as possible so be ready for almost anything. Just remember that your job is to get the request to go to your office, get the files, return, give them to Davidson, and go home. Remember, if you do see anything at the other party, do not react. Just do your task and I'll see you late tonight or tomorrow."

"OK," I said, not feeling OK. "What do you want me to do when we go back to our party?"

"Um, why don't you go back to that woman with the Marie-Antoinette costume. You seemed to enjoy ogling her boobs before."

"I didn't think you even noticed. Was I that obvious?"

Opting to disregard my earlier regarding of Marie-Antoinette's bosom, she said, "I'll try to get an update. I'll let you know if I have more information or not. Then you can start to leave. One of our men will probably be ready to take you to the other party. Once there, we're hoping Davidson will instruct you to get the files."

"And, just to make sure, what do I do then?"

"Do as he asks," she told me. "Once you return, you'll probably give it to him directly. We're still hoping to get in that party. We had planned to have us 'babes' there to lead in the cavalry. I wanted to be in there with Joa and the others to finish this thing.

"As far as you're concerned, after you've delivered the package, just take off. Don't worry about me. I'll be with my team and I'll call you tomorrow."

We'd gone over it several times plus twice in the past few seconds. It all sounded so simple. It all sounded so reasonable. Little did I suspect things would turn out the way they did.







Deep Secret Ch. 23 - Visuals



It was all supposed to be simple. The plan was that I was supposed to get the orders to retrieve the physically secured files at the office. Go to the office and return. Give the files to Davidson and go home. No harm. No foul.

Sounded easy enough. But things don't always go according to plan.

Simone – after redoing her make-up and using some breath freshening mist to make sure she didn't smell like she'd just given someone a blowjob – and I left the quiet office (where she'd just given me that blowjob) in the corridor adjacent to the great room where the Halloween party was still in full swing. No one openly noticed us as we entered again as the happy, but troubled, couple: Jessica and Roger Rabbit. Nevertheless, the way they glanced at Simone, it was easy enough to tell they hadn't forgotten her performance of earlier, her sexy and beyond-PG-rated numbers.

We met up with my friend from the office, still looking cute and rather bosomy as Marie-Antoinette, and now accompanied by a woman whom I did not know in a beautiful, colorful sari with gold trimmings. After a few moments of chatting, it appeared to me that Simone received a signal from someone and said softly to me, "OK. Here we go."

"Well, I think Jessica is going to do another set? Aren't you, honey?" I said to our small group.

"I forgot," she said, looking up at the stage. "I'd better see if I'm still on the call sheet." And with that she started to walk away. "Oh, and don't worry if it takes a while, I may have to go over the arrangements with the orchestra. If you need to take off to work on that paper, I understand."

"You can get home yourself, right?" I said. "I am kind of beat." I thought how much fun it would be if I could have clobbered myself with a cartoon hammer like Roger Rabbit would, doing a pun riff on the word "beat."

Jessica/Simone was now gone. I said farewell to Marie-Antoinette and the woman in the sari and excused myself. I laughed to myself at how typical I was, attempting to carefully capture a clandestine glimpse of cleavage. All the time I was thinking of Simone's stories about how men thought they were being discreet staring at her breasts, but in truth being obvious, bordering on pathetically juvenile.

Well, I hoped my co-worker, much more modestly endowed (like an average woman) wasn't offended by it.

Although I had even less of an idea of what was going on than I did when I was at the meeting, planning with "the team" for this party, apparently our plan was now on some kind of track.

Just as I was getting help into my coat by one of the leggy Las Vegas show girls/coat checkers, a man in a business suit stopped me and asked me if I could meet with him "privately for just a minute or two."

Nervously, I agreed and followed him up the stairs at the opposite end of the great room from the stage. In the few moments of silence I thought about this turn of events. How could the government know that I would be asked to do this errand? Was there something else going on here of which I wasn't aware and which was possibly dangerous to me? My mind continued to come up with answerless questions while we turned a corner down a hallway and entered what appeared to be a small anteroom, almost like a refined and relaxing guardroom, with two men in suits sitting in front of four computer displays. There were a few plants in the windowless room with subtle lighting emanating from behind them. Those lights and two stylish desk lamps were the extent of the illumination in the virtually silent, expensively carpeted room.

The man asked me to take a seat while he left through another door. Before the door closed, from somewhere in the distance I thought I heard the muted sounds of another big party.

In less than a minute of trying to relax in the plush leather chair I'd taken, the man and three new people, a woman and two men, came in. The man introduced the three newcomers as Candy, Albert, and Bill.

Three people with abecedarian names appeared to me as being improbable, but I wasn't here to ask questions. I was requested to do exactly what I'd been told to expect.

I followed Candy and the two other men out the door, back to the hallway, and down an elevator to a basement garage. We got into a large SUV in silence and left through a different driveway than Simone and I had entered upon our arrival. When we left through another gate, heading to my office, I was not surprised.

There was no conversation in the car.

Upon arrival at my office I explained to the downstairs guard our reason for being there and took one of the executive elevators to an upper floor which I'd never had any occasion to visit.

They had access to certain parts of the office that I did not and I had knowledge of security codes that they did not.

Nearly an hour later we had returned to the estate with a briefcase containing some paper files as well as some secure digital devices. The trip was uneventful and as we reentered the house, the Halloween party appeared to be still going strong. I was escorted upstairs. This time, though, I was asked to wait in the anteroom while my high priced escorts – and not the kind I'd ever want to see again – continued down the hallway. Once again I was sitting in the same leather chair, holding on to the briefcase I had brought from the office, while one of the two men at the desk made a phone call.

After sitting there for several minutes, but not long enough that I thought they had forgotten about me, one of Mr. Davenport's assistants came through the door.

"Ed?" he asked me warmly.

"Yes," I replied stiffly while shaking his extended hand.

"I'm Stephen. Mr. Davenport would like to thank you personally for your efforts tonight. I know that you were supposed to be at the Halloween party tonight, but what you've done for us is appreciated. Did you have any glitches getting the files?"

"No, it was simple."

"I'd like you to deliver those files directly to one of our clients who is enjoying himself along with Mr. Davenport at another party in here."

Holy crap! I thought to myself. Is there a satanic ritual going on in there? Will I be able to get out with my life?

I was experiencing my first true panic attack. Maybe this was the end. I thought about bolting for the door, but knew it would be useless to do anything foolish just now. Besides, this is what Simone, Clint, and the team members told me to expect. It was all going according to plan. No sweat.

Of course, they had told me that the other party was going to be at another location, not in the same mansion. Things were not going according to plan. Not to worry, I reminded myself. Simone had told me to go with the flow. No problemo.

Then why was I sweating like I was in a steam room at the Y?

"Would you come with me?" he asked.

I followed him through the inner door of the small room. We stepped into a strange room, with heavy drapes from floor to ceiling. There were a few others in the room, all wearing costumes, each seemed to be attended by young women dressed exactly like one of those leggy chorus girls from downstairs.

As Stephen excused himself to walk over to speak to a robust man in a gladiator outfit I looked around the room. It was lit from fancy recessed ceiling lamps that made the colorful drapes shimmer. When another man dressed as a fireman came through a break in the drapes on the other side of the room, I realized that the drapes were for sound control. The fireman had come from another room with the "other" party in it or at least I thought I could hear another party, but with the drapes you could only hear noise when another door was open – and even then it was barely noticeable.

I looked at the fireman and saw that he had a mask on below his fire hat. It was then that I realized that none of these people except for Stephen could be recognized. Each had a mask, helmet, or had on make-up in such a way that you'd never know who he was. This was becoming more bizarre by the minute.

Suddenly Stephen left through the split in the drapes, closing them behind him carefully. A few moments passed and Stephen entered with Mr. Davenport. They spoke quietly for a few seconds.

After the whispering, Davenport came over and said to me, "Ed, the party that's in full swing downstairs is a far cry from the one inside here. This is geared towards executives like myself who are getting some well-deserved time away from the stresses of their positions.

"I'm going to bring you to one of them, the one who is to get the briefcase you retrieved from the office. You are not to give that to anyone except the person to whom I present you. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Davenport," I said weakly.

I followed him between the drapes and through a second set of drapes a few feet further. Behind the second set was a door. He opened it and I heard some exotic, rhythmic music that sounded live.

Still following him, the door closed behind us and two men dressed in business suits stood up and checked us out. Each had to be six-and-a-half feet or more and built like a linebacker. Davenport spoke to one of them and motioned for me to sit down. I began to ask him why, but he left me with the two suits.

Sitting down, I took in my surroundings.

The room was about the size of the great room downstairs with similar features, except there was a second stage in the center of the room surrounded by an array of sofas and tables all around. The lighting was dimmer and the music was coming from a live band at the back of a stage on the far end of the room. In front of the band were three dancers in various states of nudity. From what I could see each one was muscular and tall. Each also had a sexy dance motion, rhythmic and very erotic.

As my gaze moved around the room I noticed that all of the men were wearing some sort of elaborate costume that would make it impossible to recognize him.

There must have been three or maybe even four women for each man. Most of them wore skimpy costumes if one could call them that. Some of the women were wearing lingerie, some had on just a bikini bottom or top, and a few were nude except for stockings and high heels. All of them were attending to one or a group of men, sucking cocks and getting fucked. The fucking ranged from your basic tit fucking to reverse and missionary positions as well as some double penetrations with a man on the bottom, a woman on her knees over him, and another man slipping it to her butt simultaneously. Because all the men's faces were covered you couldn't see how much they were enjoying themselves by looking. The collective moans and groans, though, pretty much gave it away.

The women ran the gamut of colors from the darkest black to the whitest white. There was no specific talking that could be heard over the band, but it was obvious that there was a great deal of communication occurring all around the room.

After my initial sweep of the room I tried to see where Davenport had gone, but I couldn't see him anywhere. Feeling like the danger of a few minutes earlier had passed, I settle myself in my chair for a probable long haul.

As I surveilled the room, now at my leisure, I tried to see more closely what these executives – if they were truly that – were up to.

At a grouping not too far from me I saw three men, all in cowboy outfits. They were an interesting group: all had on chaps and cowboy boots, but without pants, sort of like a group of stereotypical male strippers. Unfortunately, these three were more than a little too hefty to pull it off. They were, however, getting female attention as if they were.

Eight women were attending to the three of them. One guy was standing with one leg on the floor and the other on a side table. Below him, a small Asian woman with a delicate frame had his cock in her mouth while another woman was sucking on his balls. The guy was lucky (or was it powerful or rich?) enough to have a third woman working away with her tongue between his ass cheeks.

The second guy was lying on a sofa, his legs splayed out on the floor where a black woman was giving him head. A white woman was sitting on him, feeding him her breasts. From time to time the woman between his legs would shove his cock into her pussy, she'd have a slight convulsive mini-climax for a minute or so, then the sucker would take out his cock and lick all of the woman's juices up like a pro.

The third guy was banging one woman in good old missionary position on another sofa while another one liked his balls and asshole. Meanwhile he was licking the pussy of a third woman who was sitting on the arm of the sofa, over the head of the woman getting fucked.

Continuing my investigation of the room, I saw similar feats being performed by sexy young women everywhere. The men were drinking and joking. None appeared to feel any awkwardness at their nakedness or their debauchery. The women were mostly silent, though many of the ones getting fucked were loudly making it known that their men were the cause of their pleasure.

As I looked around taking it all in, questions popped into my head. Part of me was appalled that these wealthy men could just hire women to do these things to them. Another part slapped that first part up side the head, saying why not? If the women wanted to do this and were getting paid well for it, who was I to cast any aspersions in either the men's or the women's direction?

Then I briefly flashed on the fact that any – or even all – of these women could be sex slaves. I quickly dismissed this thought because I didn't want it to be true. Plus, I could never know for sure – nor could I do anything about it.

That returned me to thoughts of my purpose for being here in the first place.

While I had been ruminating on the best of all possible worlds, I noticed that a curtain had come down around the small stage in the center of the room. As the overhead lighting diminished electronically, giving the room a pall of mystery, the music of the band similarly diminished and they ended the set.

Some weird electronic techno music began to play softly as the curtain rose around the central stage. Most of the motion in the room ceased, except for some of the women continuing – apparently when requested – to suck their men.

As the curtain rose, I could see a well-built man, at least 225 pounds of solid muscle, standing in the center of the stage. He was wearing black leather boots, pants, and black leather suspenders. He also wore a black leather mask covering most of his head.

He gestured with one hand to the audience and the room was silenced. Now, all eyes faced him.

Suddenly two women bounced up, as if from nowhere, onto the stage. Each was wearing a garter belt and stockings and heels, nothing else. Both had large firm breasts and dynamite figures. They wore the smiles of showgirls.

One of the girls motioned to a high black chair and the guy sat in it. They both made a big to-do about opening a codpiece that was covering his groin. He opened his legs wide and both of the women crouched between them, their hands busy at his crotch.

It was then that I noticed the displays built into the walls showing live video of the machinations on-stage for those who wanted to get a bird's eye view.

They opened the crotch of his pants so that his cock was freed. Then both of them sucked and licked his member. It was the largest cock I had ever seen.

Now, I've watched my share of porn so I know a large cock when I see one. This guy's cock was something unreal, though. As the two women continued their ministrations, he kept growing and growing. He must have stopped at somewhere over a foot. I know that it sounds impossible, but I saw it clearly.

The two women were smiling as they continued to lavish it with their tongues. As one attempted to get some of it in her mouth at one end, the other went to work on his balls. Though they were quite large, somehow they seemed to be dwarfed by his enormous cock. What was even more unsettling was that while the one was getting only the head of his cock in her mouth and trying unsuccessfully to take in more and the other was licking all around his balls, there seemed to be so much extra space between their two women's heads that three or four other women could have occupied it with their lips and tongues – if they could only have found a way to fit the rest of those other women's bodies in that space.

While I and everyone else there was swept up in this guy's amazing equipment and the two lovely women tending to it, a trap door on the floor of the stage opened up and leather covered, dark purple oblong object was raised. It was about three or four feet long by 20 inches wide and three inches thick and mounted on some sort of gimbal. Along its sides were handles. When it finished moving it stood about three feet above and parallel to the floor of the stage.

The music changed a bit, throwing in some added tension. The conversations were picking up and you could hear a murmur of heightened excitement.

It was at that moment that two women in masks wearing dark purple capes, completely concealing them from head to toe, walked slowly up some stairs to the stage. Both were probably six feet tall with shoulder-length wavy dark hair. One woman was black, the other white.

At the same moment, I almost cried out in surprise when a hand lightly touched my shoulder. I looked up and tall woman was standing there looking down at me. She was also dressed in black leather, similar to "The Cock" on stage with black boots and wearing a mask.

She leaned over and whispered to me, "Ed, stay cool. Don't – I repeat – don't say a word." Her voice was tense, her message terse. I sat there feeling her hand on my shoulder as she stood back up, then I tried to remember who it could be.

It was one of the other women on the government team, a colleague of Simone's. I tried to figure out what her message meant. I was calm. Why would I say anything? What was going to happen that I might make me lose my cool?

My mind wandered as I tried to figure out what she was doing here at this moment, why she came to me. And, of course, how she got there. The last I had heard from Simone was that none of her team was even going to be at this other party. But, then again, I had thought this party was going to be at another location entirely.

As I was trying to put it all together, I looked at the stage. The white woman in the cloak had moved to the floor of the stage, probably kneeling, but under the cloak she could have been crouching. It was impossible to know. What was clear though was that The Cock had moved to stand directly in front of her and she was licking his cock like it was an object of adulation.

After a few moments of watching her work I looked up to ask this woman about her warning, but she was no longer there. I hadn't figured out where she had come from and now I didn't know where she'd gone. Damn subtle, these spy types!

In retrospect I realized I should have known what she meant by "stay cool." At the time, though, the evening's events had an unusual effect on me: I was not myself. I'd never seen an orgy. I'd never been to such a luxurious home. I'd never played cat and mouse with a clandestine group of international evil men, and I'd never been involved in an "operation."

You throw in the fact that it was Halloween and I was dressed like Roger Rabbit and that my girlfriend was probably somewhere, putting herself in mortal danger to take down these bad guys, and I was understandably not my usual self.

Little did I know at the time how prescient that sentence was! I was, though, soon to find out.

So the messenger had left and I thought to myself. "I'm staying cool. I'm not giving away any information." Things were fine. I was simply waiting for Davenport to return, to allow me to give the briefcase to someone, and I would be on my way. Then, I'd see Simone later. That would make everything right. Watching her get undressed, jiggling those great big boobs in my face, licking those tasty nipples, and then seeing her go down on me. Ah yes, things would be back to normal in no time.




Deep Secret Ch. 23 - Visuals



I returned my gaze to the stage. The actors were continuing their roles in this sexual mime play. 

Now the white woman in the cloak had begun to take The Cock deep in her mouth. She was doing a pretty amazing job. She must have had half of it deep in her throat. Of course, I thought to myself, Simone could probably make her look like a young woman giving her first blowjob. Though I'd never thought about asking her, I was pretty sure nothing had ever been too big for Simone.

It reminded me that I should get a dildo or something like it for her to try so I could get an accurate measurement. Could she really take a cock as long as this one deep in her throat? A cock as long as The Cock on stage would probably go half way down to her stomach. Could this guy's cock be real? And, if so, could this girl on stage deep throat it? Could Simone?

While I watched, the girl in the cloak started to gag. She tried to pull him out, but The Cock just held her head on his enormous organ (enorgan?) as the poor young woman was trying to get a breath. Eventually, he let her free of the prick and she coughed a bit, trying to regain her composure.

Meanwhile, the black woman had been marched to the edge of the stage and turned with her back towards the audience. The two assistants then ripped her cloak off her body. Except for her long, high-heeled, black boots, a tiny g-string, and mask she was naked.

Moving slightly to the excited electronic beats, she slowly turned towards the audience.

She was stunning. Long legs. Firm thighs. Beautiful butt. Hard abs. And delicious breasts on her lean frame, she was a sight to behold.

After being paraded around the stage, one of the assistants took her over to the purple table. The other assistant took the white, still cloaked woman to the front of the stage. With her back turned towards the audience, she too had her cloak ripped from her body, leaving her clad only in her mask, g-string, and boots.

The music rose to a bit of a climax as she too slowly turned towards the audience. This caused a hush in the crowd.

There were murmurings throughout the place about her enormous breasts, so large especially in the theatrical lighting that she seemed to have cantaloupes on her chest, not simply breasts. But, when she began to move slowly to the music it became pretty clear that they were natural and all hers.

Immediately, a part of my soul knew that it had to be Simone. I didn't want it to be. Surely, I told myself, those breasts must belong to another tall, thin woman. Simone had short blond hair, not shoulder-length auburn hair. Of course, it could be a wig.

I didn't want to believe it, but I knew it had to be. I felt like I was going to be sick.

After people began to breathe, the assistant took her over to the table too. Throughout all of this The Cock just stood there, slowly stroking himself with two hands. (I probably would have done the same thing to myself at the moment!)

The two assistants on the stage had arranged the purple table with the black woman and the white one (I had only guessed it to be Simone, but I couldn't know for sure.) strapped securely to the table in a 69 position, each strapped to one side of the table with her legs spread apart. The black woman's mouth was now virtually on the white woman's pussy and the white woman's mouth on the black woman's pussy. Each one's hands were bound near the other one's ankles.

Telling myself that it was someone else up there and not Simone made me feel a little better. However, a part of me just knew that it was my girlfriend.

As my mind began to spin more slowly, it was then that the two assistants guided The Cock over to the table. The white woman (not Simone I tried to convince myself) was on the bottom facing up and the black woman was on the top, facing down. The assistants spread each woman's butt completely and you could see that each had some kind of thing inserted with two prongs, one in her pussy and the other in her asshole.

I began to wonder how each could keep that thing in her for so long and if she received pleasure from it. Was it just for the show? Was it something that excited her? Simone had asked me to fuck her ass on a few occasions and she came strongly. But it was always hard to tell with a woman who always came strongly.

As I watched, the two assistants tore off the bound women's thongs. An inchoate idea began to grow in my addled brain. I couldn't quite formulate it fully, but I knew there was something going on.

The two women began to slowly remove the double dildo device from the young women's crotches and the audience let out an amazement buzz. The small external piece of this thing belied its true size. The pussy piece was shaped like a long balloon. It appeared to be at least five or six inches long and three or more inches in diameter, but only about an inch wide on the external end.

They somehow separated the two dildos and after removing the giant one in their pussies, they began to slowly remove the other in their asses. They also were much wider inside. In fact, they must have been a few inches in diameter too, maybe three or more. What was even more outrageous was how long they were. If that were Simone, maybe the earlier gagging was part of the act. Regardless, if the woman couldn't deep throat The Cock, she had easily taken a foot of dildo up her colon.

As bizarre as it was, there was something very exciting about these women, their legs spread wide in this gymnastic sixty-nine, their dark hair cascading, while the two other women continued to remove, inch by inch, the outrageous dildos up their asses.

When they finally took it all out, the two assistants made a point of showing them to the audience, how long they were, and how solid they were. Though it was a bizarre display, everyone, including me, clapped in appreciation.

As everyone applauded, that unformed idea decided to form – and I suddenly knew why the female agent had warned me. A small movement the white woman made was a small body movement that only Simone did.

It was Simone. It had to be Simone. It had to be my Simone! My girlfriend was on stage in front of a couple hundred people entertaining them and pleasuring a guy with the most monstrous cock ever seen.

How do I know? Well, her great deep throating technique had given me the beginnings of the idea, but with that chest there was simply no one else in the world it could be. In fact, now I knew that her coughing fit was all just a part of the show.

Knowing made me outraged. I wanted to run up and punch the guy in the cock and pull Simone out of there. She didn't deserve to have things shoved inside her body, to be the object of these perverts' amusement. She should be home with me.

It took a serious effort to sit still as I watched her being forced both to have such objects in her body and to be strapped onto the other woman's genitals too. In fact, I began to suspect that the other woman was Joa Lucenita, the woman I'd met in the basement offices a few nights earlier.

I tried to stay cool, as I'd been told. I returned my focus to the stage, attempting to remain aloof. Amazingly The Cock was still erect and apparently still ready to challenge Simone's throat.

Calming down, reminding myself that there was nothing I could do, that she was on an assignment, and that this would ultimately – I hoped – lead to the end of the criminal activities of a bunch of sociopaths.

It was important to remain focused on my mission for this evening: it was not to save Simone. It was to deliver the briefcase and get home.

The Cock moved himself to the end of the table that had Simone's head. He thrust himself roughly into the black woman's pussy. She briefly tensed, but was silent. With her mask on it was impossible to know whether she was in pain or not. I assumed that the dildos had made each of their pussies relatively open to foreign objects.

After thrusting several times into what had to be Joa's vagina, The Cock pulled out and did the same into Simone's throat. It was now even harder to watch, but I managed to watch Simone take on The Cock in this probably awkward position, but I didn't know for a fact. We had never talked about what, if anything, caused her pharyngeal or even esophageal discomfort. I thought again about her gagging earlier and decided that it had to be part of "the act."

As we all watched, this girl – with the amazing rack, the amazing body, the amazing colon and pussy, and the amazing throat – took The Cock inch by inch into her throat. She didn't gag at all. He kept feeding her his enorgan and she kept her throat open as it slowly disappeared inside of it.

I know she had some way to breath, but I never figured out how she did it. You could see her large round breasts pancaked up against the table, but you could notice them starting to shimmy slightly on her torso. Clearly work didn't interfere with sexual pleasure when warranted.

As The Cock's balls were now resting on Simone's nose, the lighting changed so the cameras (I never could figure out where those things were, but the coverage was great.) got some amazing close-ups of Simone's expanded throat, her face with her open mouth, and her bright eyes, seeming to enjoy every inch that was down her throat.

It was at this moment that I was tapped lightly on the shoulder. Expecting it to be the other female agent, I looked up and was surprised to see Stephen. "Come with me, Ed," he said.





Deep Secret Ch. 24 - Entertainment



As upsetting, unsettling, and, admittedly, exciting as it was to watch my girlfriend deep throat the largest cock in the world, I picked up the briefcase, rose, and went with Stephen. We walked back through the door, through the drapes, and into another area lined with rows of drapes. This one looked like a backstage area in a theater. There were dressing tables with lights surrounding mirrors as well as a smattering of sofas and chairs. The large room had at least a dozen mostly naked men and women plus a few completed dressed techie types wearing headsets. Some of the nudes were putting on make-up or fixing hair. Some were having a variety of types of sex. All were young and beautiful. 

Stephen asked me to sit in a chair near two women, each of whom was actively and sexually involved with two guys. I sat there and tried not to notice the extremely unfamiliar surroundings. No one appeared to even notice my appearance.

"... at least, for me," one of the women was saying. "I really was so surprised. I mean, all my girlfriends were telling me how gross it was. But, you know, every time I gave Theo a hand job, when he wasn't looking, I'd lick up whatever was on my hand. I thought it was awesome. It was so, I don't know, 'man' or 'male.' I couldn't figure out why they thought it was so gross. Then I finally gave him my first blowjob. I'd been jerking him for just a minute and decided to find out for myself exactly how gross it was. Well, it's all history from there. I became a true cum slut. I had a huge orgasm when he shot off in my mouth."

Then the other woman said, "It was kind of the same thing for me, but I actually had an orgasm the first time I made a guy come and watched it. We'd been playing with each other, but he had no idea what he was doing to my pussy. I wanted to just tell him to stop, but I thought it would hurt his feelings. So, I moved to the floor between his legs and just watched his cock as I gave him a hand job. Man, when he shot up in the air, my body just started to shake. I almost lost it, but I tried to stay focused on the task at hand." Each of them smiled at the other in response to her pun. "He shot a few more big ones up in the air. Most of it landed on my hand and around his cock, but I was so close that some landed on my face.

"Hey, keep it down, will ya?" one of the guys said. "I'm working here."

"Sorry, Pete," the first woman said.

And so he was. Although I was far enough away not to be bathed in the aroma of their sexual encounter, the entire area smelled like a bedroom after sex.

Pete was fucking the first woman's ass slowly, but with strong strokes, while she was talking in between sucking another guy's cock. The other woman was on her knees and had one guy under and another on top of her in a dual penetration scenario.

"I just don't want to disappoint out there, you know?" Pete replied.

The conversation between the two women continued -- as best it could -- as the four guys kept going through their paces, fucking their asses, pussies, and occasionally the first one's throat.

I couldn't quite figure out why they were having sex if they were supposed to go and entertain the audience with their sexual techniques, but I guess that's show biz.

It was fun to overhear the two women discussing their first blowjobs. I had thought Simone was unique with her oral orgasms, but apparently whatever she had was shared by at least one or two other women.

Also, listening to their discussion kept me from focusing on the woman who had to be Simone, my girlfriend, being used on stage.

"Are any of you guys going to come or are you saving that for the show?" the first one asked.

The guy she was sucking said, "I'd be glad to give you some cum if you want. You know me, just give me ten minutes and I've got another load ready to go."

"Oh yeah," said the other woman, "I forgot. You could always give me four or five mouthfuls a night when we used to hook up. That was so cool."

The other guys all said that they'd rather hold it to the disappointment of the two seemingly insatiable women.

The first said, "Well, I'm ready for some cum."

"Hey," said the apparently bottomless well of semen, "let's see how your deep throating skills have improved. Last time we hung out, you were still gagging with inches to spare."

"OK, watch this."

And with that she repositioned herself on her knees and the other guy slipped out of her ass like it was no big deal.

She got settled and, his cock being quite wet looking from all of her licking and sucking, she popped most of him in her mouth. Then without missing a beat, put both hands on his butt and pulled him all the way in so that her nose was bumping up against his abs. She continued to pull away from him and then back deep down her throat for just a few seconds before he gave her a warning.

"If you want to taste it you better pull off."

She quickly pulled back so that less than half of his good-sized cock was in her mouth. She wrapped her hands around the rest of it just as it appeared that he was starting to shoot.

I suppose that because this was real sex and not porn sex she kept her mouth closed so that all of his cum shot in it cleanly. He and she both made happy sounds as they appeared to enjoy their shared orgasm.

The rest of the group, the guys anyway, didn't seem to think it was a big deal. The other girl, though, extricated herself from the guys on top and under her. She made her way over the girl on her knees as the couple was apparently finishing their respective climaxes.

"Come on, Deb, give me just a little," she pleaded as Deb pulled her mouth off the guy's cock.

"Just a little," Deb managed to say with her semen-filled mouth and, with the other woman's head now turned facing up below her, she allowed a good-sized glob of cum to slowly drip into her wide-open mouth.

The casualness of the scene combined with all the sexy, naked women in the room, made me almost have an orgasm -- untouched -- of my own.

The two women seemed to enjoy their tastes of cum. One was caressing her breasts while the other working quickly at her clit. The pair had their eyes closed, as they both seemed to savor their semen.

It was hard to just sit there. For the moment, I forgot about Simone and almost anything else in the world. I thought, "Aw, these two poor women. I could whip them up some cum. It would be a generous gesture."

Before I could act on that act of selflessness, several other guys who'd been fucking women in other places around the room offered to provide the two women with their condoms of relatively fresh cum.

Both Deb and the other girl eagerly agreed and the three guys walked over with well-filled condoms dangling off their soft cocks.

"Cindy, you apparently got the shorter shrift on that deal so you can have this," one guy said. "I came twice in there while I was fucking Tanya."

"You're a regular saint, aren't you?" Cindy asked with her mouth still containing some semen. As Cindy began to unroll his condom I looked at the amount of semen in it and was quite impressed. It certainly was a very full condom.

Cindy didn't make any playful gestures with it. She just put the open end in her mouth and squeezed the rest of it like a tube of toothpaste.

One of the other guys brought his condom to Deb who now looked like a child trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue. She still had some cum in her mouth and began to gargle with it as the guy squeezed his condomful into open maw.

The third guy was so minimally involved that he just left his condom on the coffee table and walked away.

After enjoying playing with their respective mouthfuls, Deb and Cindy said thanks to the guys and eyed the remaining condom. After a few salvos of "you have it" / "no, you have it," Deb picked it up and dribbled the cum into Cindy's mouth who then turned around and dribbled part of it into Deb's. After enjoying moving the cum all around their mouths, the two women kissed, sharing whatever cum was left between the two of them.

The kissing apparently excited them both enough that large physical orgasmic reactions were rushing through both of their bodies. It was a highly erotic sight. What surprised me was that no one else in the room seemed to care about the incredibly erotic happenings just a few feet away from me. Did this kind of thing happen to these people regularly?

"But, you know what I find hardest? It's the way it tickles," Deb said to Cindy a few silently savored moments later, as if their conversation had continued from earlier.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." She smiled to herself and then continued. "I think for me it's my jaw. Keeping your mouth open that wide for so long makes my jaw and my neck sore. It's just not natural. But I know what you mean, though. The first time I did a bukkake party it was in high school. I kept going to wipe the cum off my face and pushing it into my mouth. But all the guys on the football team kept telling me to leave it. It was hard to keep from scratching your face and cleaning the stuff off your eyes. When I started to get paid for it, I lost a few other gigs because of that. Yep, it took me a while to stop going for the messy stuff on my face. But I'm used to it now."

"Used to it? You've probably had more cum on your face than anyone I know, except for maybe ET," responded Deb. "At first it just makes you want to clean yourself up. I mean, if I'm with a guy who likes to see me play with his cum I love to do it. Sometimes I find it tastes better after it's been exposed to the air, but it kind of depends on the guy and his cum. But, you know, some guys think it's a turn-off."

"Yeah, I know. I hooked up with one guy who told me he thought I was sick," her colleague added. Imagine that: I like giving him head and he's thinking it's sick. Sometimes, I just don't get guys."

"Usually, though," Deb continued, "you get a cock to come in your mouth and you keep your lips on the thing so you don't lose any of the semen, right?"

Cindy nodded in agreement. Both ran their tongues around each other's mouth, still finding a few fun fluid fragments.

After some more kissing and caressing, Cindy said, "Hey, you know, speaking of ET, did you see her with that dildo before?"

"Well, they don't called her throat endless for nothing," Deb responded. "I think she should be in Ripley's Believe It Or Not. It's just not natural for someone to deep throat so easily. She shoved that thing in like she was shoving it into her well-lubricated pussy."

"I know. And when she pulled it out slowly like that, the thing seemed to be like a mile long. That thing must have gone down to her stomach. And it was so thick too."

"Yeah, I thought of one of those old bits where a clown pulls a handkerchief tied to another tied to another out of his nose. It was funny -- and so sexy -- at the same time." She paused to lick up some newly located semen on her shoulder. "You'd think it would be enough for someone to deep throat so easily, but she's got the biggest boobs I've ever seen, well, natural ones probably. And she's so thin."

"You know what she told me once?" Cindy said, nodding. "She told me that the first time she gave a blowjob the guy just shoved his cock into her face and his dick went straight into her throat. She said she thought that was the way to do it and that everyone did it that way. It didn't make her gag. In fact, she said, it gave her an orgasm."

"No shit?" Deb replied, shaking her head in disbelief. "I've gotten to the point where I can deep throat most guys, but when I guy's really big he can't force it or I'll gag. Essence, though, she can shove any guy I've ever seen all the way in like it's a piece of candy. I've never seen anyone who could do what she does."

"And that's not fair too. Talk about the complete package. She could deep throat the Washington Monument. She comes from just about anything: cum, blowjobs, even giving a handjob. Plus, there was that time she had all those guys in her ass. She was coming from the minute they started."

It was at that moment that Deb, who been nodding in agreement while still playing with her pussy so loudly I could hear the squishing sounds, looked over at me and said, "Hey, Roger, want a blowjob? I don't think I've ever given a blowjob to a Toon."

I smiled at her and was about to thank her for her offer when, at that moment, Stephen touched my shoulder and momentarily scared the crap out of me.

"Come with me please," he instructed me.

There was a brief, but tough, moment when I was seriously thinking of saying to Stephen, "Would you mind waiting a second? I want to let Deb give me a blowjob and I'll be right with you."

On the other hand, a part of me wanted to get out of this nether world as quickly as I could. Yet, I had been seduced by all that I'd seen. I'd watched my girlfriend Simone suck another woman's pussy and deep throat the largest cock in the world. I'd watched men and women in masquerade outfits do an array of sexual acts, some of which I'd never even considered. And, finally, just a few feet from me, casually discussing the pints of semen they'd just consumed after getting reamed by a quartet of studs, there were Cindy and Deb. I almost felt that it would be an insult not to offer them some of my semen.

Finally, I came to my senses -- if that is what it was -- and I said, "Sure," to Stephen. Then, I did a little hand wave to Deb, as I was gathering my things, I said, "Thanks for the offer, but I got an appointment."

I followed Stephen through a maze of partitions until we arrived at the anteroom where I'd waited earlier in the evening.

The anteroom was quiet and still had the two secret service types sitting at the desk. Stephen walked me over to the big guy himself. Davenport explained that he was sorry to keep me waiting and hoped I had fun watching the "little entertainment." Asking me to follow him, we walked through another door to a more private room with large screens capturing all of the entertainment. We walked over to a man dressed like a baseball player wearing a mask. He told me to give him the briefcase and I did.

The baseball player opened the briefcase and seemed to be happy that whatever he was hoping for was, in fact, there. He then left with the briefcase after a nod to Davenport. We sat for a few minutes until one of Davenport's aids received a call. He said something like "It's a go," to Davenport who escorted me out the door. One of the leggy chorus girls was there to escort me downstairs.

Part of me felt betrayed, part of me felt helpless. All of me felt horny and it was hypnotizing watching this chorus girl walk in front of me down the stairs. I could have walked next to her, but I was enjoying the view too much.

She brought me my coat. I walked across the lawn and through the copse, remembering the blowjob Simone had given me in the greenhouse. Had that really been earlier this evening? It felt like a long time ago.

Then I began to think about the conversation that Deb and Cindy had. Obviously, Essence or ET must have been Simone's undercover name. I was sure the ET stood for Endless Throat. I was less sure that I wanted to know about other events she'd done with Deb and Cindy. And, I surely didn't want to know about "all the guys in her ass."

The whole night had me on edge, but that last part, hearing about Simone's "assignments" was just too much. For a few moments my feelings ranged among a swath of emotions: anger, hatred, disbelief, frustration, denial, love, acceptance, and probably a dozen more.

I sighed softly and made it to my car. Before starting the engine, I just sat there, trying to return to some feelings that didn't hurt. I was unsuccessful at that.

Eventually I figured that I'd discuss the whole thing with Simone when I got home. Or whenever she got there.

That made me feel a little better. I'd see Simone later that night.

It was not to be, however.





Deep Secret Ch. 25 - Sentimental



Waking up alone after the prior evening's events was a disappointment, to say the least.

As I rested in bed, not quite ready to start my Sunday, I took stock of the previous evening. All in all I was reasonably OK. After all I had gotten two pretty great blowjobs. Plus I'd seen my girlfriend be the belle of the ball. In fact, she'd been the life of the party -- at two separate parties. Then, I couldn't forget the sex everywhere including the Blowjob Twins, Cindy and Deb, whose little entertainment had provided more than enough blood flow for morning wood -- if there had been a need for such.

On the other hand, I was pissed that my girlfriend had put on a sex show with another guy -- a guy with an amazingly huge dick -- in front of a hundred other people and I could do nothing but sit and watch. I was angry. I wanted to rip that guy's eyes out and shove 'em down his throat.

While I was letting all of that anger seethe inside of me I was aware of another part of my brain that was outrageously turned on by watching Simone do those amazing things she does -- and did -- in front of all those people to that guy.

I'm not sure why we do this, but it's surprising to get hard simply by watching a woman deep throat a cock. On the other hand, maybe it isn't. There are so many references to oral sex in general -- and the whole Deep Throat thing was a controversy back in the 1970s. Didn't Linda Lovelace appear on late night TV? And this was back in the Nixon era while the war in Vietnam was still going strong. It may have also been the time of the Moral Majority.

My mind raced from subject to subject, trying to make some sense of my angst. Though it pained me to think of her as being "on an assignment" and doing all sorts of things to strangers, not to mention sadists, I knew that it was all part of her work as a government agent. That was reassuring to some degree, but now in the clear light of the next day -- a chilly morning for early November -- I was hoping to hear from her. Was she OK? Did the evening go as planned? Were she and her team OK? Did they get the bad guys?

I thought I'd check the local news to see if there was anything on about a big arrest last night, but then I realized that it would probably have been done under cover with secrecy being key to success. Plus, this was back in 1990s: You couldn't just search the web for news or tweets or visit the government's Facebook page.

The clock read 8:42 when I finally decided to get up. I put on some warm-up clothes and went out the door for a quick jog. It was even colder than I'd expected and felt like it might snow, but after the first mile or so I was comfortable. By the time I returned, took a shower, and had some breakfast, it was a little after ten.

I knew Simone's phone would be off, but I phoned her anyway. Hoping I was not sounding needy, I left a message. "Hey, I hope you're OK. Give me a call. I'd like to hear your voice."

Not overly cloying, right? I hoped so.

When I hadn't heard anything by noon I decided to meet with some classmates to work on a group project we had due that Wednesday. Late in the afternoon, returning home to an empty apartment, I still hadn't heard from her and I began to get truly worried.

While my main concern was for Simone's welfare, some other concerns crossed my mind. She had not been what I initially thought -- by design -- and now I began to wonder if maybe there were more things about her mission, at least about what I had been informed, that were untrue or just partially true.

The following day at the office was a bit of a shock, nothing bad, but I was the talk of the office. The woman, who had been dressed as Marie-Antoinette, had told anyone who didn't already know that "the sexpot" at the Halloween party had been my girlfriend.

By noon, if someone hadn't come up and asked me directly about Simone, at the very least they looked at me differently than they ever had in the past. Whenever I'd walk through a work area other than my own, there'd be a sudden silence and then a slight roar (if that's oxymoronically correct to say) of discussion after I'd pass.

Three different guys I knew asked me if she was an escort or a hooker. One person asked me if I paid her to go with me and two others asked if I could send them photos.

What surprised me most were the videos of Simone's (or should I say Jessica Rabbit's) performance that had made it onto the company's network.

Ugh.

Fortunately, the private party had remained completely separate and no one knew anything about it.

As I left the office late Monday afternoon, I was anxiously hoping to hear from her, to hear she was all right.

After work, my classmates and I finished our hand-in work for the project Monday night at the school's student center. That made the drive home feel great at first, but as I neared my place, there had still been no word from her.

Tuesday at the office was spent explaining to just as many people as I had on Monday who "the fox," "the woman with that body," "that babe," and "Jessica Boobit" was. One of my closer colleagues asked how she was in the sack, but then apologized and said that his question was inappropriate.

Given my conflicted feelings about the entire relationship we had, there was a part of me that wanted to crow to whomever asked or even looked like he wanted to ask. She loved giving head. She had an amazing body. And she was awesome in bed. At least, she was awesome if you loved getting blowjobs. Nah, I take that back: she was plain awesome in bed. Period. (I'm pretty sure I came more in her mouth and throat than I'd come in the mouths of all the other women I've dated put together.) A woman who had an orgasm just by tasting semen, one who could come with your cock deep down her throat, her lips against you groin, enjoying it immensely, who'd go back to a party to deep throat a guy and drink the cum out of a glass from earlier in the day? How could anyone not appreciate such a woman?

But there was the other part that was the mature part (sometimes maturity sucks) that felt like what Simone and I did together wasn't anyone else's business.

I actually thought that I would have laughed it off a few days before, but now that her mission had been scheduled to conclude two or three days ago and I'd heard nothing, my sense of worry turned to minor panic. I didn't know any of her friends' last names, having only met them once or twice.

By the time Tuesday evening rolled around, I was a mess. No news. Not a peep. I called Manny and Consuela, neither of whom had seen her at the gym.

"Where was she?" and "Was she OK?" were now the only questions on my mind.

An answer arrived late Tuesday night. Fast asleep as I was, I became aware of Simone kissing the back of my neck. She was quietly cooing to herself, but the sound was a relief. She knew me well enough to know that I'd have a hundred questions and moved a hand across my face on the pillow and, putting one finger up over my lips, said, "Shh."

Deciding that I was happy enough simply that she was here, I opted to take her advice. I pushed all the questions aside and just let her have her way with me. (I know, not exactly a sacrifice.)

After spending a little time with her mouth and tongue around my ears and neck, she moved slowly down my back until she was kissing my glutes. It was an area that neither she nor any other girlfriend had spent much time on, so I was surprised at how erotic it was. Each time she would move her lips and tongue up to the side of my hip I kept hoping she'd continue around to my dick, but she had other ideas about where her journey would lead.

She began kissing the area where your butt ends and your hamstring begins. I know no one had ever been there or done that before because the feelings were intense. All this time she hadn't said a word nor had she even touched my cock, which was seriously beginning to feel neglected. Her tongue movements would get her around, close to its base, but then she'd return to my butt.

After slowly licking and kissing her way forward beyond my anus, she started to press diligently with her tongue on the area behind my ball sack. It felt like she was milking my prostate, but in a good way -- not the way it feels when a urologist does it!

Taking her time under my balls she eventually moved to the sack's area between them. She hunkered down there for what seemed like an eternity and I think I might have had an orgasm if it weren't for my mind trying to savor and to save the moment.

Feeling pretty sure I knew what was coming next, she moved up to the underside of the base of my cock, licking it and turning herself on in the process. Her squeals of joy had become louder and I think she may have given herself an orgasm just from her mouth and tongue movements.

I know that when she moved up to the underside of my head and found the pre-ejaculate that had formed there and covered my head, she did have a beautiful, time-standing-still climax. I really enjoyed that, but I was starting to feel like it was time for me to get there too.

Then she surprised me again. She suddenly, but with her inimitable grace, moved both of us so that in one quick action I was lying on my back and she was rubbing her enormous breasts across my chest, my cock shoved deep into her pussy.

So this is what dying and going to heaven feels like!

She slowly moved her hips up and down. The senses (smells, sounds, and feelings) of the moment were discrete and delightful. The moment felt like the equivalent of walking into a kitchen where someone had just made the best chocolate chip cookies in the world and you were biting into the first warm, gooey one.

Her nipples felt like small pebbles rubbing across my chest. After a few moments she lowered her upper body so that more of the weight of those amazing sacks was resting on my chest, but continuing their slow movements back and forth.

Meanwhile her teeth were lightly playing at one of my earlobes while her tongue would occasionally rub across it. Yeow!

I had not played with myself for several days and realized that the last time I'd come was at the little office down the hallway from the Halloween party on Saturday night. It was now more than three days since I'd last come.

It was time.

Simone's hips, no -- actually it felt like it was her vagina that was using some muscles to tighten and loosen its hold on my entombed cock. There was absolutely nothing to do but to have an orgasm.

"Go for it," she whispered, knowing that I was about to come. "I'll join you. I'll get my nourishment later."

As I said, there was nothing left to do.

Knowing that I was going to come, Simone pushed harder down as I pushed up into her, sure I was damaging her cervix, but it simply had the effect of pushing the two of us over the edge. Both of our bodies tensed and the cascade of climaxes commenced. Each of us went to that place out of time and space where orgasms happen. Nothing except pleasure and warmth existed for those few moments.

Her body was providing me with the pleasure I hadn't felt in several days as I spurted shot after shot of cum deep inside her. Simone's response was to meet my thrusts with clenches of her own, pressuring her clit between our nearly-married pubic symphyses.

Though the scientific community might fault those responsible for the design of the human body with some of the awful things that can happen to it, whoever did design it certainly did a lot of good work too! Awesome work!

At the moment I decided that focusing on the events occurring in my parasympathetic nervous system made more sense than musing about the origin of the species. (Good choice, one might add.) The feelings were surprisingly intense and lasted longer than I'd expected -- even considering the several days since my last climax.

Eventually all things come to an end and after what seemed like a weeklong orgasm, we both returned slowly to the here and now.

After a few sweet pleasurable resting moments, I realized that we'd both grabbed on to each other and were hugging, her ridiculously large but solid breasts pressed out between our torsos. Upon feeling her stir, I realized that my cock had now shrunk back to its normal un-aroused state and was in jeopardy of slipping out of her playful pussy.

As much as I tried to keep it there, it slipped out anyway -- apparently of its own accord. Simone chose that moment to get off me and cuddle alongside me, pulling one of my arms across her slender shoulders. It felt so right being next to her. I actually ached slightly for her; it felt so good now that she was back. I must be falling for her, I thought. Regardless of her previously held secrets, she was someone I'd fallen in love with and this planted the seed for all those thoughts about "Is she the one?" 

It was not the time to propose, yet. I knew that. I knew I needed to consider what life might be like with a secret agent for a spouse. Could that even be a possibility? I'd go insane worrying about her each time she left the house, especially when she went on an assignment. This didn't even consider the kinds of things she might have to do as an agent with her unique skill set.

This line of thought got me curious about what had happened on her end of the mission, both before and after I'd seen her performing sex acts on that private party stage. I suddenly felt jealous and hurt. These are not the things you want to feel just when you're thinking of asking someone to spend the rest of her life with you.

In a most typical manner, Simone seemed to know at least part of what I was thinking. She quietly said, "You probably want to ask me some things about Saturday night and why I've been out of touch the last few days."

I didn't say anything, but she knew. Of course, she knew.

"Well, the past few days I was doing a little traveling to finish up this assignment. There was some paperwork to get in order and some dealing with other agencies involved with the operation. Some of this was heavy-duty blackout stuff and I wasn't even allowed to have a phone." Then after a brief pause, she added, "I thought a lot about you, though."

She was silent for too long for me to think she was going to continue. It felt like I could ask, but she probably wouldn't be able to answer. In my inimitable idiotic manner, I said, "That was some amazing cock that guy had."

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I thought to myself. That was the best you could do? What about, "I thought a lot about you, too" or "I hope you didn't get hurt" or even "Are you OK?" No. I, the guy with the interminable bad hair day, had to go and talk about some other guy's dick. And a sadist to boot. Was I that insecure or insensitive? Yeah. I probably was.

Wishing I could unsay what I'd said, I just sat there, hoping the words would dispel themselves quickly.

Simone apparently had tolerance for my insanity and boorishness. She said, "Ed, I can understand how hard that must have been for you. You weren't supposed to see me with anyone. In fact, you weren't supposed to actually get into the upstairs party. But, in these kinds of missions things can happen that we can't control. That was why I wanted Joa to be there and remind you not to react."

"Yeah," I replied, "it was good she warned me. It pissed me off, seeing you with that guy. I wanted to run up to the stage, beat the crap out of him, and take you away." I paused, thinking about my words. "That probably sounds like a scene from a B movie: a boyfriend running up to a stage and grabbing his girlfriend to 'get her out of there.' Doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah, a little. But you know, Ed, it's human nature. When you care about someone you want to protect her. I understand."

We both went silent. I wanted to ask a million questions. I assumed those were the last things Simone wanted to hear from me.

"Listen, Ed. I did some pretty 'out there' things on Saturday night. I had to play my role in the action against these people. Everything ended well and I did my part to take down a bunch of bad guys. And I think it is worth getting your hands dirty to put organizations like this one out of business."

I listened to my heartbeat for a few moments. The emotions in my brain were completely out to lunch. I wanted to shield her from the work she did and did so well. How strange was that? I knew I couldn't, but that was one of the feelings I had.

In fact, there was a part of me that wanted to hear about the sexy stuff she might have done. Of course, I wanted to hear about the murders of those people who did sexy stuff to her, too.

Oh, my goodness. I was one screwed up puppy. Maybe I needed some counseling. How could I possibly want my girlfriend not to do stuff with anyone else and to hear about it at the same time?

She began to kiss me along my side, moving slowly but with a singular purpose down my torso. It was sexy and exciting and it helped to make my mind stop focusing on (obsessing about?) her lips -- and her throat -- wrapped around some other guy's cock. It didn't hurt that I could feel her hard nipples preceding her slow and inexorable journey to my dick.

Opting to worry about my sanity at another time, preferably when Simone's erotically stimulating actions were absent, I decided to go with the flow, lie back, and let her maneuvers take effect.

When she began to lick around the base of my cock, recently flooded with both of our juices, I could hear her moan with enjoyment. She said something like, "We taste great," and popped my semi-hard cock into her mouth, making it warm, welcome, and comfortably familiar.

The sounds of gooey slurping being made joyfully by Simone's lips were almost as much of a turn-on as the feelings they brought to my body. It took no time for her actions to bring my cock back to a full-blown erection, her hand motions reducing the time even more.

Satisfied that she'd licked up all of our juices she proceeded to lick and suck around my balls. I especially enjoyed it when she'd put a bit of pressure to the extension of the cock muscles that were between my balls. In fact, twice when she'd done that -- and even if I had just had an orgasm -- it would have caused me to have another one. I remember because both times she knew exactly what she was doing and enjoyed looking up to see the semen shoot high up over her face. It seemed that watching me shoot was enough -- added to her enjoyment of using her mouth and tongue -- to get her started on pretty intense orgasms of her own. Then she'd take pleasure in licking up all the sticky, white stuff that had cascaded all over my cock, on my lower abdomen, and other areas. Each time she'd get some of the larger dollops it would give her these slow, intense, eyes-rolling-back-and-disappearing orgasms that made her moan in an almost ghostly fashion.

I never tired of seeing her climax, especially when she'd do it giving me similarly intense ones.

This time, though, she apparently had other plans and pulled back from making me climax at that moment, easing the pressure and just making sensual tongue motions around and under my balls.

Slowly, she moved herself up the underside of my cock and licked playfully around the slit and lower side of the head. Between that and her hands still pulling up and down on the shaft I soon was ready to come again.

Knowing that her movements were having that effect Simone stopped for a second, letting my cock simply stand there, pointing up at the ceiling, lonely and wanting female companionship. She looked for a second up at me and smiled.

She was so beautiful, her smile dazzled me, and caused an automatic reaction of my cock thrusting upwards. That was the challenge she seemed to want, the extra hardness or length or whatever, causing her to move her head downward. She slowly continued this movement doing something I don't think she'd ever done before: licking the underside of the shaft as her throat was working to accommodate its length. She'd done this at the end, when I was all the way in her throat, but never while she was getting me there.




Deep Secret Ch. 25 - Sentimental



It was so amazingly intense that by the time she'd finished the trip I was almost ready to come again. I was sure she knew exactly what she was doing. I almost thought to myself, "What took you so long?" But then I realized that the more teasing she did, the more semen I'd give her. In addition to wanting to make me have an orgasm, that was one of her goals in our sexual routine: getting as much of that white, wet, uniquely male liquid as possible. I was unable to deny her that pleasure because, you know, I was there for her!

And, as we both knew it was time, I began to come. It was a surprise that it felt so intense, though it should not have been so. After all, we'd done this enough times to know how our parts worked as a team.

When the first shot erupted in her throat her mouth was still open with her tongue swiping away at whatever it could of my pre-seminal fluids and the juices from earlier. I heard her give a little squeal of pleasure when she must have felt that shot hit the back of her throat or maybe by then it was in her esophagus. Whatever it was, she decided that one tongue-swiped accumulation of cum was enough for the night and wanted to enjoy more straight from the source.

I looked down to see her body in small, lovely convulsions, her enormous breasts quivering and shaking to their own rhythm. (One day I should investigate how a physicist would determine how to calculate where they would go and how they would move when her abdominal muscles tightened. But my mind quickly got back on the subject at hand -- or head, as it were.)

My second and third shots were almost gapless. The two large spouts of semen felt like they were very large and at the moment she had moved her tongue from way down the shaft to right on and under the head. This had the delightful effect of coming in an extremely tight place, heightened by the slight back and forth motion of her tongue. Wow, I thought, this is great!

A few shots later and I could see her cheeks slightly bulged out as her mouth apparently was filling with my semen. With each continuing shot her body would shake slightly as what appeared to be a wave of orgasms shaking her lithe physique. It was only now, with the light coming from a dim source outside, that I noticed her hair was back to its normal short blonde cut. She seemed so much more normal than when I'd seen her late on Saturday evening. I liked her this way.

Why was I thinking about so many other things? Well, my body was on automatic pilot, coming like a fastball. I was in a weird, timeless place; my body kept providing my girlfriend with her desired semen. I was happy and so was she.

Alas, all good things...

As I finished shooting into her mouth, I felt and could see her orgasms diminish too. Both of us had shared wonderful climaxes and I suddenly felt warm, not horny, and exhausted. Both physically and figuratively, I was spent.

Simone moved up along side of me, putting my arm around her shoulder and snuggling with her head on my chest.

I could hear her swishing the semen around in her mouth slowly the way you might savor a fine wine. ("Ed," current vintage!)

A terrific feeling was washing over me at the moment. We lay there, both of us feeling well and, I was pretty sure, satisfied. I knew I was satisfied. Simone, from all I knew about her, was probably feeling the same.

It was while I was basking in the warmth of that not-a-care-in-the-world moment that I heard something in the hall. We were not alone.





Deep Secret Ch. 26 - Satiety



Christmas season starts in summer! How can Labor Day, Columbus Day, Halloween, Veteran's Day, or even Thanksgiving Day compete with a holiday that gets hyped two seasons early?

I hate to begin anything I say with something like, "When I was a kid..." so I won't. I will say, though, that well more than a decade ago when I was still in my twenties, people would remark when holiday decorations went up in town before Thanksgiving Day. 

"What's the rush?" they'd ask rhetorically. "Let's just enjoy raking leaves, chopping firewood, and getting ready for winter. There's still the Thanksgiving holiday travel season. Let's hold off until after that's over, shall we?"

But that was then and this is now. My loving and lovely wife Amanda had just come back from our oldest child's school's Thanksgiving play with the other two in tow. I wished I had made it, but I'd been working hard on a presentation for a client the first thing on Monday morning and wanted to get everything in order so I wouldn't have to work over the weekend -- the weekend before Thanksgiving.

Just as I had taken off my shoes and lit a fire, I began to relax. To enhance the beginnings of my stress relief I put on some recordings of the concertos for piano that Mozart composed between 1784 and 1786. I had happy memories of discovering those pieces in a series of concerts that I'd gone to in college with a girlfriend at the time, although I could not remember her name. Regardless, adding to my increasingly relaxed state was a glass of a northern Italian red. In my mind I could hear Hannibal Lecter saying "A census taker once tried to test me; I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti." But I was actually feeling good about the week's preparation and, upstairs, the house began to rumble with three tired yet excited kids.

Amanda came in and gave me a kiss, her lips cold from the fall air, but the kiss was warm and sexy. I congratulated myself on being a very lucky man. What had I done to deserve all of this?

As the four of them rattled the rafters, getting ready for bed, I looked out at the backyard and the woods beyond in the crisp moonlit night. They had forecast snow for the weekend, beginning late tonight. I was truly fortunate to be warm and snug with my family in our home, especially with the coming storm.

Once the ablutions began to ebb upstairs I put another log on the fire and poured myself another glass of the red. This night also brought back memories of the same Friday night prior to Thanksgiving back in the late 1990s. I hadn't seen Simone since the night before the surprise.

To be more complete, I should state that Simone was often surprising me. I was surprised that she'd even said yes when I asked her out on our first date. There was the surprise of seeing her naked for the first time -- and virtually every time afterwards. This, of course, included discovering her bra size, one of my personal favorite pieces of information.

Then the shock of her amazing oral abilities, abilities that those porn stars who were capable of deep throating could not even dream of possessing. Her throating ability was more akin to a combination of sword swallowing and face fucking than simply deep throating.

And the list of surprises would not be complete without her martial arts abilities as well as her life of secrecy and lies.

Needless to say, she surprised me often -- and most of those times the surprise was pleasant.

However, the night she came to me a few days after the Halloween party as I lay fast asleep and first fucked my brains out and then sucked out any sexual fluids that might have been left in me, well, that night there was a real surprise.

We were cuddling in bed after the aforementioned suck, Simone still maintaining my semen in her mouth, enjoying the liquid, swishing it around slowly in her mouth. It was then that we heard a noise in the hall outside the bedroom.

I was sure she'd quickly swallow my seed, get up, and fling herself at the intruder, disarming and rapidly making him unconscious. But, she seemed content to stay still and purr in contentment.

Could she have not heard the sound? No, not Simone. She was too finely tuned to her surroundings -- as anyone in her line of work would be -- to let someone get the jump on her.

So I sat up and, reaching for the light on the nightstand, tried to see into the darkness. But, as I was struggling to reach the lamp, Simone jumped up and in one swift and silent movement disappeared into the hallway.

This stopped me dead in my tracks. Did she want me to leave the light off? Was there some clandestine meeting taking place? And mostly, was it even safe for me to know what was happening? After all she didn't seem to be concerned about any violence when she took off -- with, I reminded myself, my load of semen probably still in her mouth!

Ergo, I stayed in bed in the dimly lit room. As I waited for her to return and, I hoped, to resolve the current mystery, I propped up the pillows behind me. I remembered the great fuck and the even greater blowjob she'd just given me. It had been three days since I'd last seen her at the party. Of course, I wish I had heard from her during those days -- especially in light of her mission and the danger involved therein -- but still I had the good feelings that come with a couple of great orgasms.

I knew things were OK when I heard some soft, slow, and bluesy saxophone music playing in the other room. A few moments later after hearing what sounded like two women whispering, Simone in her naked glory, those incredibly large breasts moving fluidly across her torso and a darker-skinned woman wearing a dark colored bra and panties entered the bedroom.

A few months ago, before I'd met Simone I would probably have been surprised. Now, though, with all that had happened, it didn't have much of an effect except for making me hard again at the sight of the Simone and the other woman.

Glancing over at the clock I noticed that it was close to three. There was no way, I decided, that I was going in to the office today -- at least not in the morning. I was thankful that we (my B-school group) had finished our project for this evening's presentation.

Meanwhile, Simone came to bed, gave me a kiss, and said, "Ed, you remember Joa Lucetina from the other night?"

As she got closer, I saw that Joa's lingerie was a dark blue or purple, showing off her dark skin. She was taller than I remembered and had larger breasts too. This, I guess, was owed to never having seen her half-naked. Actually, I was trying to not wet myself the other night so I had a completely different focus.

Now, in the nighttime light of my bedroom Joa looked like a supermodel, perhaps an inch or two taller than Simone, with curves in all the right places. In fact, she could have been wearing a bikini right now for all I knew.

Speaking of what I knew, Simone's kiss had smelled of cum with a little of her perfume mixed in for good measure. Now I remembered that she had left the room with a mouthful of semen...

Hmm, was it possible that she had swapped it with Joa? Was I just fantasizing because I had one naked and one nearly so Amazons in my bedroom at 3:00?

Probably so. When your naked girlfriend brings another woman with her wearing only a bra and panties into your bedroom it's probably a sign that you're going to have a ménage-a-trois. Right?

I must admit that I felt a little pressure. I was beat from three days of worry about Simone. It was three in the morning. And, lastly, I'd just had two orgasms in past hour or so. Could I get hard again quickly?

While I was ruminating about my body's reproductive system's current status, Simone and Joa had hopped into bed with me, removed Joa's lingerie, and were each lightly caressing the other. I suddenly felt like the third thumb.

That is, at least until Simone leapt over me so that I was lying between the two of them, their bodies smooth and taut next to my skin. At first it was a little intimidating, but as soon as each of them began to rub my chest and move down to my cock, I no longer worried about my possible performance anxiety.

Houston, we are a go.

My dick -- and perhaps this is true for most men -- is what it is. From my experience, guys don't talk to other guys much about their cocks, but from the little conversing I've done about it, mainly as a high school kid, well, you get what you get. If you have a big cock, so be it. If you have a cock that curves to one side, so be it. I think you just get used to yourself.

I was pretty satisfied with mine. It wasn't huge, but it wasn't small. I'd had more than a few of my partners tell me that I was hitting her cervix and to not thrust as hard or so deep. I guessed that meant that I was at least long enough. Some women liked the fact that I was not too big in circumference, but I'd heard a few women say that they enjoyed a wide cock.

Most of my partners had told me that -- just like that old song -- "it ain't the meat, it's the motion." Whether these women were trying to make me feel good or not, they appeared to enjoy what I did with them while we were in bed. (Of course, there were the whole Seinfeld and When Harry Met Sally... things about faking it, but I think I (just like most men, since we have no way of dealing with such duplicity -- or even knowing it when it arises) just need to dismiss it and go on my way when trying to please women.)

Now, that was not the case with Simone. With her I think the ratio of blowjobs to fucks was probably 20 or 25 to 1. That was what she wanted so who was I to argue?

Anyway, Joa's hand was firmly but smoothly stroking my cock near the head and Simone's hand was fondling my balls while each of them was kissing and licking my neck, ear, and parts of my face. It was one of the most sensual things I'd ever felt, especially heightened by the soft plaint of the wailing sax coming from the other room.

I briefly thought about work and school, but decided to be in the moment (Good decision, Ed, I told myself.) and went back to savoring the pleasure I was feeling. Adding to which I could noticeably feel each woman's erect nipples rubbing along my torso.

Yeow. This was great!

Of course my mind was still racing: Was there something I should be doing? Should I turn my head and kiss Simone? Or was that rude and I should lean the other way and kiss Joa? Maybe I should start kissing their bodies? Yes. That was it, I thought. I started to get up off my back and go for Simone's boobs. That was always a good thing to do. Why not? It was certainly familiar territory. I couldn't even begin to count how much time I'd spent licking and sucking on those babies.

However, maybe that was rude and I should do that to Joa's tits. What a dilemma. On the other hand, I'd never quite had such a dilemma in my life. In fact, I doubt most men had had such a dilemma. What to do? What to do?

Fortunately, at the moment that I started to go for Simone's rack, she said, "See. What did I tell you? It's great, no?"

OK. That must be for Joa since I had no idea what this was about.

"And you just came twice?" Joa asked, looking at me.

I stammered something, "Um, uh, yeah."

"Impressive," she said, continuing to stroke my dick.

"Here, if you want proof," said Simone. And with that, the two of them went down to my crotch, first Simone and then Joa, licking around the base, apparently one showing the other the remnants of our previous fucking.

"Whoa. You two taste great," Joa said seemingly surprised at the liquids that were still in my pubes.

Even though it was far from the appropriate metaphor, "Any port in a storm" popped into my brain as first Simone and then Joa took my cock into her mouth. For the next few minutes, they were trading eights with my cock, first one, then the other would suck, while the alternate one would continue manipulating my ball sack.

Both of them were on a mission to catch my emission, quite focused on the task at hand. I put my hand down to touch and caress the tops of both heads and necks. I have no idea if it made them feel good, but they both felt nice to me.

If I could have decided if it made them feel good at the moment when the smell of "female" started to enhance the aromas in the room, it would have to be when Simone was on task and indicated something to Joa. Suddenly it seemed that the smell of pussy had been infused into the room. Before I knew it, Simone was working her way down my shaft, slowly inhaling me to the back of her mouth and beyond.

"I always was fascinated by how you can do that so easily," Joa said to Simone.

As she pulled herself off my cock, Simone said, "You can do it now, too, you know."

"Yeah," replied Joa. "But I've really had to work at it. I can't tell you how many times I retched trying to quell my gag reflex. I thought I'd never want to see the back end of a spoon again."

"You used a spoon handle?"

"Before I could even think about a dildo, I had to get that gag reflex under control."

"I remember doing it as a kid. It just came naturally for me. My first boyfriend just shoved my head down on his cock and it went down my throat. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. I didn't gag because I never gag."

"OK, you can stop bragging," Joa said.

I almost felt like an interloper when I said, "Um, ladies, that feels so good."

"Oh yeah, Ed, how the hell are you?" Simone kidded me. "I hope you don't mind. I shared some of our sexual exploits with Joa. Ever since we first had sex together she was fascinated by my deep throating technique. I gave her some pointers and she's been practicing."

"I can tell," I said, stating the obvious.

"And his cum is delicious," Simone said to Joa, a statement to which I had nothing to add.

"OK, here goes," said Joa, getting on all fours directly between my legs as Simone looked on in anticipation.

She wasn't the only one looking with anticipation. As much as Simone's body was awesome, Joa's was new to me and, variety being the spice of life, I was enjoying touching and looking at her body too.

My cock was awfully wet by now and it seemed that Joa had no problem taking almost all of it into her mouth and down her throat. There was an inch -- maybe two -- that she still had to conquer. I estimated that it was that last part that was the hardest for those learning and doing the technique.

She held me there, licking on the underside of my shaft. I could feel her warm breath on my groin as her tongue moved, making love to my cock. Deciding it was time, she appeared to tense up and push more of me into her mouth. It felt so good and tight way in the back, like every part of my cock was being caressed and held tightly, but with slow movements in and out.

I could almost feel more pre-seminal fluids gushing out of the tip, way in the back of her mouth. She kept her head there for what seemed to be a long time, pulled off me, rubbed my cock around her mouth and even her face. Her smooth cool skin felt like a completely different sensation, not as potentially orgasmic but with care, an indication that she wanted me to come. And, that she was going to make it happen.

Going down on me again, I relaxed, just wanting to feel those beautiful lips wrapping themselves around the base of my cock. She was on her way to getting there when I realized that Simone was gone. As I flexed my abs, pushing deeper into Joa's throat and she taking it like a pro, I realized that Simone had moved down under Joa and was licking her pussy, her lower body mostly off the bed, but from what I could see with one had holding Joa's pussy apart and the other hand working at her own, she didn't seem to be in any distress or discomfort.

Something caused me to return my attention to my cock and I realized that it had disappeared down Joa's throat. It was that same tight, extraordinarily exciting feeling of complete enclosure that had me on the verge of having another orgasm. Her lips were slowly opening and closing over the root of my cock, her hands working over my balls and the space behind them. Her nose was pressed firmly against my abs and she was slowly pushing down, then releasing the pressure, then pushing down again. I don't know if she was able to breathe, but it didn't seem to matter to her so I decided not to worry about it. Let's face it, I wasn't forcing her to do anything.

Joa, though, apparently was getting worked up for my orgasm. Simone and, now it seemed, Joa were the first women I'd ever met who wanted me to come so much in order to have their orgasms. It was a treat, though there was a part of me that felt like it wasn't fair to them. I decided, for the nonce, not to focus on that part.

As Joa was clearly heading toward her climax and Simone sounded like she was already there, but keeping it going, I decided that I was ready too. (It wasn't a difficult decision, but I thought it was worth mentioning that as I surveyed the room.) Joa had taken a moment to pull off my dick and then immediately went down on it with a fervor even more intense that she had previously shown.

If anything, it felt like I was even deeper than before, though I didn't think that was possible. Her steady pressure-on-pressure-off technique with her lips tightly sealed around the base and her nose against my stomach was having its effect. I could feel my orgasm begin way down inside of me.

Maybe it was the extended use this evening or the extra arousal from two totally smoking hot women, but the orgasm caught me by surprise. It was so much more exciting than I had been expecting.

My juices seemed to come down the tubing so quickly that the first shot had to go straight down Joa's esophagus. Realizing that I was coming, Joa made some feral sound and slowly moved back up my shaft, feeling, I'm sure, the shots hit the back of her mouth. It must have given her a pleasant sensation because I could feel her body trembling with excitement and a paroxysm of muscle contractions began. Simone, not one to leave all the orgasms to others, was obviously doing her own thing, a fact I confirmed by looking in the full-length mirror attached to the bedroom closet door.

I could feel a good five or six shots had spurted into Joa's accommodating mouth. It felt like a party was going on somewhere between the head of my cock, the base of her tongue, and the back of her mouth.

These feelings of sexual release, then, were simultaneously shared by the three of us in that room. I continued to cum and I was sure all of the juice was pooling in the lower end of Joa's mouth around her front teeth and lips. I have no idea how much I shot, but the orgasm lasted a long time. That appeared to be true for all of us, as Joa and Simone both were making a combination of high pitched and low guttural noises at nearly the same time.

When we each came to her (or in my case, his) senses there was a collective sigh of relaxation in the bedroom. No one moved for a minute or two.

Finally, I began to feel Joa slowly release my now softening dick, carefully maintaining the tight seal in order to keep my semen from leaking out. As if knowing what they were doing next, the dynamic deep throating duo both moved in unison so that Simone was lying on her back, her head resting on my abdomen, facing the ceiling. Joa moved up, her head above Simone's and facing me.

I knew what was coming next, but it was still one of the indelible memories of my life. Simone reached up with her lips and began to kiss Joa's chin and her face, licking her lips, slowly going over her lower and then her upper lip. Then she moved along the underside of her chin, licking down to her pendulous breasts before returning to just under her mouth.

Joa gave her a peck on her lips, then, she looked at me in the dimness of the bedroom, slowly smiling, her lips still closed, but her beautiful dark eyes seemed to say "thank you." It was at that moment that she parted her lips just enough to permit some of my semen mixed with her saliva to drip down her lower lip, down her chin, and into Simone's waiting, parted mouth.




Deep Secret Ch. 26 - Satiety



The taste of semen had the effect Simone was apparently waiting for and her body convulsed, her extraordinary breasts shimmying like Jello molds, but in slow motion, as the electricity of the moment caught the rest of her body unprepared for the orgasm it was now experiencing. I looked at her long legs and watched her hips clench and unclench as the wave swept over her, again and again, her body out of control.

Finally, when it seemed that all of the semen had left Joa's mouth, the two of them kissed, with sexy open mouths and tongues bathing each other. Then Joa joined Simone in and-yet-another orgasm. This one lasting nearly a minute for the two of them.

It was so sexy, I actually started to get hard again. Nothing major; I still needed some time before I could go again. But I was impressed with my body's responses, nonetheless.

As I stated, we all eventually came down from our flights of fancy and felt the tension leave us. After a few more moments of satisfied sighing, Joa and Simone kissed a little more. Both came up and kissed me with just a hint of tongue and cum, followed by both collapsing on either side of my chest. I put my arms around them both.

For me, sleep followed quickly. At some time during the short remainder of the night, though, I had a sense that the two of them got up, dressed, and went into the living room.

I awoke so late the next day, it was just barely still morning. Ugh! After looking at the clock, my sensation had been confirmed: I was no longer sleeping with two beautiful young women. I'd gone to sleep with two women and now there was none. A scene from a Sesame Street "learning numbers" bit briefly flashed in my head; I let the scene disappear.

Hoping that they were still there I called out, but I just knew that it was in vain before I even called. There was something about the goings-on of the previous night that gave me the feeling that they were gone. Out on another assignment, perhaps.

It had been a pretty amazing night. I'd come three times. I'd slept with Simone and with Joa, memories of their sensual bodies flooded my mind in a spate of images, aromas, and feelings.

There was now silence in the apartment. Someone had obviously turned off the stereo in the other room.

I called my office and told them I'd either be in late or not at all. With the office yet abuzz about Simone as my date at the party, my boss and coworkers thought I was a god. I could still do no wrong.

There was no problem at the office.

Worries plagued me, though, about Simone. I threw on some sweats and did a quick tour of the place to see if she'd left a note, but it was to no avail.

Somehow this disappearance was different. We had hardly talked the previous night. Except for the one time Clint had come by, she'd never brought over any friends -- and never an intimate. It was unlike her to do something so personal for us as a couple without discussing it with me first. It raised questions about the previous night.

It also made me realize that I didn't know anything about their mission. I wondered how she was after the party. I wondered about a lot of things. Did they get the international criminal gang they were after? Did they find Arty or discover RC? Were they all arrested? Was there any violence? Did anyone get hurt? Who and where were all of the people in that upstairs party now? Was anyone on the government's team injured? What had happened to Hastings and the General?

It made me concerned for her safety. Obviously she was someone who could take care of herself, but in the past few months that I'd been seeing her she'd always stayed in contact and let me know what was happening with her.

Sitting down with a cup of black coffee, now that I thought about it, her very open lines of communication with me began to change the day after I'd met her team and been told the truth about who she was.

I gave her a call, but I knew it wouldn't be answered. After leaving a message, I hopped into the shower, got dressed, and went into the office. Driving in I remembered that we had our presentation in class that evening. I was glad we'd finished that before last night, pretty sure I'd need a lot more coffee before I'd have the chance to get to sleep that night.

No word arrived from her for the next couple of days, so that weekend I went over to Burt's Yurt, the yogurt place that had been the entryway to the building's buttoned up bowels where I'd been introduced to the General, Hastings, Joa, and the rest of the gang of agents, plotting to take down bad guys. As I should have expected, they were closed and had a sign in the window saying they'd stay that way until spring.

That just added to my list of unanswered questions. The biggest was: When would I see Simone again?

Ah, painful, but sweet memories.

I realized that while I had been recalling those memories from what seemed like ages ago, the fire had mostly gone out and the snow was beginning to accumulate in the back yard. The faint sound of the water draining upstairs told me that the kids were asleep and Amanda was getting out of the bathtub in our bedroom. I remembered again what a lucky man I was.

But, in some ways it was as clear as if my time with Simone were yesterday. The question of when I would see her again would be answered the next day.





Deep Secret Ch. 27 - Elevation



Saturday morning in our house is a wonderfully energetic place. Make that the Saturday morning before the three-day week before Thanksgiving and it's an even better place. Throw in a whole bunch of pre-Thanksgiving snow, both on the ground and still falling, and it's a magical kid-friendly, warm, safe, and cozy home.

After reminiscing downstairs in front of the fire the previous evening, I finished my glass of wine. I then poured another for myself, one for Amanda, and brought them upstairs. I kissed the kids goodnight, although they were already out – dead tired from the evening's school events.

Although I'd heard the bathtub faucet running earlier, I'd expected that Amanda would be fast asleep too – disappointing for me and any hopes I'd had of expending any of the testosterone pulsing through my system – but not unexpected, given her busy schedule. A pleasant surprise awaited me as I walked into the bedroom: Amanda was coming out from behind the free-standing full-length, mahogany-framed mirror wearing an outfit that said, in no subtle terms, "Fuck me. Fuck me now!"

She looked so sexy with her strawberry blond hair highlighted by an extremely long string of pearls wrapped several times around her neck with a sterling pendant coming to rest in her cleavage. Said cleavage was enhanced by the red lace trimmed black bra and matching panties over which was a red with black trim corset that provided the garters to hold up the semi-opaque black stockings. To top, or should I say bottom, the extraordinary outfit off were a pair of black heels that gave her a height of at least 5'10", most of which seemed to be long, muscular, but slender leg. The place she was standing as she came out from behind the mirror was directly under a can light built into the ceiling. It made an already beautiful package even sexier.

Her nipples were clearly creating a shadow and the room smelled of flowers with some seasonal spices thrown in for good measure. All in all, I knew I'd be in for a fantastic night.

"How do you do it?" I asked her as she stood there, now sipping the wine I'd brought. "How do you work and take care of three kids, a house, shopping, and everything else, and still manage to keep our sex life exciting and fun after 13 plus years?"

"Oh, you know me," she said, familiarly, "I'm just Ms. Amazing!" She swayed her red and black clad hips to an imaginary slow blues tune and challenged me. "Well, fella, you want some of this? D'ya want some action?"

She had me the moment she appeared in that fancy black and red R-rated outfit. Even though the alcohol was playing havoc with my sex drive, I had been pretty tired from the week's preparation for Monday's presentation at the office and, in truth, I was thinking about little except getting to bed.

My wife's advances had now changed a noun to a verb and added two words to the previous sentence. Hence, they were "my wife," as in "...thinking about little except getting to bed my wife."

She came to me and kissed me hard, her firm yet lithe body seemed to caress mine, her hands rubbing my shoulder and my neck. The kiss lasted a long time, long enough so that by its end I really needed to remove my pants: my slacks were uncomfortably tight.

Amanda knew just what needed to be done. I knew there was something going on at my waist, but it surprised me when my pants fell to the floor: I thought both of her hands were still caressing my shoulders! I knew my wife was good, but it had been several weeks since we had really had some fun alone time.

She was good. She was real good.

In no time, it seemed, she was kneeling down in front of me and staring at my hard cock, which appeared in the mirror to be staring right back at her. She took me deeply into her mouth without so much as a saliva slobber. The shock was exciting. Suddenly the pressures of the workweek were miles away and I was getting a damn fine blowjob from a totally hot MILF. In fact, I was fucking this one – or I was going to – right after this blowjob! (For me, she was a MIAF, but why quibble?)

Amanda sucked me back out so that my cockhead only was in her mouth but she kept her lips firmly sealed around it. There was tongue action going on, too, applying pressure to the slit and my extremely sensitive area just below that. Then I could feel her rhythmically increasing and decreasing the pressure there. Simultaneously, her hands were both fondling my balls and stroking my shaft. With all of this fun surrounding it, my cock soon decided it wanted to come.

I leaned back a little, hoping to find a dresser or something so that my soon-to-be weak knees would have a back-up in case I gave way to the pleasures at my groin. There was nothing there. Then I opened my eyes a little, looked around, and realized I was in the middle of the bedroom. How had I forgotten that?

Oh well. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. So I gritted my teeth and widened (slightly) my stance, my pleasure continuing as Amanda's mouth was having its way with me.

As she continued the movements, I was lost in the delights I was feeling in all of my happy places. The sounds she was making, the content cooing, the moaning, and the dainty – or not so – slobbering sounds, had a visceral effect on my libido. While I was thinking that we had not had some good old fucking for a while, now it was clear that there was no going back from this orgasm.

She knew it and I could tell that it was exactly what she wanted, too. (This was always something I appreciated in women – their selflessness when it comes to us poor bastards.)

Within another four or five minutes I was almost too ready to come. There's a point where it seems you're in control of your orgasm and then there's a point where it's completely out of your control. I think this happens more in younger men, but, well, who knows? At this point my orgasm was about to happen whether I was involved in it or not.

It wasn't the way I felt most comfortable, but it was what Amanda wanted and it was clearly what my plumbing wanted. I just decided to go along for the ride.

A few seconds later Amanda pushed down hard on my cock so I hit the back of her mouth. Then she grasped the base of my cock so tightly I thought I'd explode. 

And I did.

My orgasm just happened. Before I knew it I'd shot off three hard spurts deep in her mouth. I could tell that it excited her to the point of coming, also, as I glanced down at her closed eyes and intense look of amazing pleasure on her face. It was a pretty sight, especially her nice sized breasts held in place by that lacey red and black bra. 

Then I realized that she was moaning with every surge of cum that shot into her mouth. It was even more of a turn-on to see her enjoyment.

As I began to diminish in my thrusts, she, too, began to come down from her own sexual peak. When I finally stopped coming, she just held me in her mouth, letting all of my semen wash over my retreating cockhead and her fabulous tongue. I'd always enjoyed that about her too. It's one thing to have the woman you love give you a blowjob and enjoy it. It's a whole new level of your enjoyment if she's so into it that it becomes a complete sexual act in itself.

Wow! I needed to sit down.

To steady myself temporarily I moved my hand (the one that had been searching for something, anything, behind me to hold onto) to her shoulder. Her skin was smooth and she immediately responded to my touch, her shoulder rising and her head leaning slightly in that direction, of course her mouth was still securely connected to my cock.

Eventually we both needed to get into more comfortable positions so we headed over to the bed. I still had my shirt and socks on, but nothing else. Amanda was still wearing the sexy black and red lingerie. We fell to the bed, reaching for one another. I leaned in to kiss her, but she held a finger to my lips and shook her head. She made a point of swishing the cum again quite loudly and then swallowing it in two gulps.

She gave me a peck on the cheek and collapsed in my arms. After a minute or two of silence she said, "Ed, I love you and your big cock – and your cum. Can't forget your delicious and bountiful cum. Mm, mm." And then after a slight pause, she added, "I can't believe how strong my climax was. I really do love giving you blowjobs."

Within 25 seconds she was asleep next to me.

Looking at the clock I realized it was getting quite late.

The next thing I knew I was slowly waking to a snowy morning. I knew Amanda was downstairs with the kids so I stayed in bed enjoying the wonderful memories of the previous night – as well as those of the same night 13 years ago.





Deep Secret Ch. 27 - Elevation



After finishing sharing that bit of information, she moved her mouth and tongue back to her hand and, pressing both of her lips to the pool, loudly slurped all the white cream on her palm into her mouth, causing another large orgasm that felt like the longest I'd seen her have in several weeks.

She ended our interlude by licking her palm and fingers, making sure there was no cum left, and then looking for and sucking any remnants from the sides of her hand and from her wrist. After she was satisfied that there was no more jizz for the moment she moved up into the bed next to me, licking all around her mouth to capture any additional semen.

I was tired, mainly from the drive, but it was so good to see her that I can still remember the pleasure I took from that quick and wonderful dalliance.

We both fell asleep for a few minutes. When we awoke I told her that I was feeling refreshed and hungry.

"Well, we have salmon to poach for dinner and everything else is ready so let's go down to the kitchen and eat," she said, quickly getting up and sashaying out the bedroom door. After putting my cock back in my pants and adjusting my attire, I followed.

We made our way through the enormous house. I estimated it was probably five or six thousand square feet.

While we were eating I asked her where Joa was and how she could afford such a place.

"Joa, went to the airport to pick up some friends," she told me. "She should be back soon."

"Are they going to stay here?"

"Probably not," was her terse response.

As usual I had a million questions. I still hadn't been told what the outcome of their mission was at the party on Halloween. I wanted to know if they found Orm, if they discovered the arms, if they figured out who Arty was and if he was at the party. And there was the whole "Laughing Skulls" thing. What was that about?

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it or maybe you can't talk about it, but can you tell me anything about the night of the party? Was it a success? Did your team do OK? Did you ever find Arty?" I asked her as we were sipping some wine and munching on some crudités.

"Ed, you're right. I should tell you about it, but I can't. At least, not much. I can tell you that Arty was actually a mispronunciation of the letters 'RC.' We did find that guy at the party." She paused, looking at me with sad eyes. "I'm so sorry, but that's all I can tell you. It's better for us both if I don't say any more."

Well, that's something, I thought. Her brief bout of sadness surprised me, though. Obviously there was something going on, but I couldn't figure it out.

Eventually, we gave up waiting for Joa and her friends, ate dinner by ourselves, watched part of an old movie, climbed back to our bedroom, had some more orgasms, and passed out.





Deep Secret Ch. 28 - Mealtime



After the workout, the three of us went upstairs and had some juice and coffee. Joa said she'd make breakfast for us, but wanted to shower first. A good idea, we all agreed, was putting showers on the morning's agenda.

Once upstairs in our room, I stripped out of my workout clothes. Simone had done the same before me and I enjoyed watching her naked body do the mundane things that two people do when they're close. 

She brought over a basket for my sweaty clothes and threw them in on top of hers. After putting the basket in a corner near the door she walked into the bathroom. I followed.

It was a treat to watch that cute butt of hers, seeing the muscles ripple as she walked in the graceful way she did.

It went without saying that such an exclusive house would have some sort of instant hot water system: she actually got into the large shower and turned on the water while standing under the showerhead. I'd never enjoyed getting that initial blast of cold water so I hesitated, but as soon as I saw her immediately begin to enjoy the heat of the shower I got in with her. This shower was actually made for two. It was so large, in fact, that you could probably put a single bed in there. In addition, there were two sets of showerheads and controllers, one at each end of the shower space.

As each of us scrubbed ourselves clean from the workout's aftermath, I remember thinking, "I really have to ask how much these special agents get paid for their work." This was apparently a vacation home that Joa used only occasionally and I figured it must have cost at least several million dollars. Not knowing the luxury vacation mansion market, though, that could be a low estimate,

I was surprised out of my musings, when suddenly my cock was delighted to feel Simone's lovely butt sideling up in front of it. Her tight muscles almost seemed to capture my cock in the crack of her cheeks. Before I knew it I was hard and starting to find my way in between her pussy lips.

As my natural thrusting motion slowly pushed my cock between her lips, I noticed that, although she'd just finished washing, her inner pussy lips were already well lubricated. I slipped into her with ease and it felt like perfection. I started to push in and then pull out just a bit as her body responded in a similar manner to mine.

After we got into a smooth rhythm, part of my mind started to remember back to Mrs. Mysterich's anatomy and chemistry classes when we learned about hydrophilic and hydrophobic molecules in the lipid bilayer of cell walls.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Why is the doofus thinking about plasma membranes while his dick is buried deep inside the sexiest woman he's ever met?

It's not an unreasonable question, but, to quote the Bard "Though this be madness, yet there is method in't." You see, I was thinking about the vagina's natural lubricants and how, even though we were surrounded by the strong shower's spray, our male and female parts were able to slide wonderfully back and forth with no diminishment whatsoever. I thought this was sort of like the idea of the cell wall in humans. (Thank you, Mrs. Mysterich!)

Boy, did I get off the subject! And while we're on the subject of getting off, I realized that Simone was now beginning a clamp down on my cock, indicating that she was "out there" somewhere having an orgasm. I enjoyed watching her beautiful, soft, firm backside and all that I could see of her enjoy this delightful climax.

This happened a couple more times: she'd stroke with me in and out and then she'd stop and climax. Needless to say, it didn't take me long to get with the program. Soon I was ready to join her.

As my thrusts into her tight and wet pussy got me to that place "from whose bourn no traveler returns" (Shakespeare must have been smiling that day!), she, of course, knew that I was going to shoot. Apparently wanting to taste the juice, she pushed into me hard and then reached down to grab the base of my cock as she quickly moved off of me and down to her knees on the floor of the shower.

Without even so much as missing a beat, she took me down to the base in her throat and continued to use her mouth and throat in the same way that she'd been using her pussy not a moment before. I was so intent upon coming that my cock didn't know the difference at first. Making my cock even happier was her tongue, caressing the area in between my balls with each downstroke of her head. I was -- almost without warning -- about to come. Simone knew just what was happening and shoved me so hard down her gullet I thought she might have broken her nose against my abs.

My orgasm began so quickly, in fact, that I must have shot two or three big jets way down her throat. Realizing that she was missing what for her was always the best part, she quickly pulled back from me, though she did keep a lot of my cock inside her mouth, her tongue doing some kind of heavenly dance all over it.

I remember the next three or four cum shots felt so good because of her tongue. She always had the ability to do new things that caused each of my climaxes to be unique and memorable. It was just then that she began to climax. This was unlike the vaginal orgasms she'd just had. Her oral orgasms were on a whole different plane.

It always surprised me how she had these different orgasmic tiers. I liked that about her.

After shooting another one or two good-sized jets of my white juice in her amazing mouth I began to come down from my orgasm, my flow of semen ebbing. Simone, though, was still climaxing like it was an event for the ages.

She appeared to be in another world for a few more seconds when she grabbed a hold of my cock with one hand, pushed me to the side of the shower away from the spray, shot up and grabbed a towel, wiped her hands dry, and, standing directly in front of me, slowly let the accumulated ejaculate drip onto her now-dry hand. As the dripping continued to ooze over her lower lip, down her chin, and onto her hand she seemed to clench every few seconds in smaller throes of orgasm.

It must have taken 20 or 25 seconds for her to let it all dribble and drizzle out of her mouth, down her chin, and onto her hand. I was surprised there was so much of it, but I knew that I did pretty well in the quantity department most of the time.

Seeming to read my mind, when the last of it had dripped down and was hanging in pendulous strings off her chin, she said, "Ed, one of the best things about having sex with you is the taste of your cum, but another is the amount of it. You could match any of those guys in the porn business. Not that it's a career I recommend; I think you should get your graduate degree and just come on the side! Or in my mouth."

"OK," I told her, "I'll follow your advice: I'll get my degree and come whenever you'd like." I smiled and kissed her.

"You know what?" she asked me, looking dreamily at the pooled cum in her palm.

I shook my head, "Hmm?"

"I'm hungry from that workout. It's great having a gym in your own place, isn't it? Remember you and I met at the gym?"

I nodded, thinking how lucky I was that day. As she was speaking she was sexily sliding her tongue around the semen in the palm of her hand. I began to get hard again.

"Plus, all that sucking, you know. I want something to eat -- maybe with a side of semen!"

She bent her head down and slurped the entire white puddle into her mouth, having a small orgasm, obviously just from the taste. Next, she quickly grabbed my cock and gave it a little squeeze while dropping to her knees. She used both hands to squeeze another few drops of semen out and sucked it into her already full mouth.

Before I knew it, she had stepped out of the shower, dried herself, threw on a dark blue terry robe that complemented her short, flaxen hair and crystal blue eyes, and was gone.

Not knowing if Joa would be downstairs or even if there'd be any other company in the house and feeling pretty weak from the workout and the abundant orgasm I'd just experienced, I took my time shaving and getting dressed. Plus, I figured that by the time she'd reached the kitchen she would have swallowed the mouthful of semen and, after breakfast we'd be on to exploring the snow-covered resort.

But not for the first -- nor the last -- time would I be in error with my figuring.

As I came down the stairs I heard more than a few different voices coming from the other side of the great room. As I approached the kitchen I could hear many people talking and laughing.

My entry was barely noticed, though, because of a commotion at the far end of a dark, wooden, rectangular kitchen table that sat 20 or more. At the far end I could just barely see Joa seated, her back towards me, with at least a couple dozen guys crowding around her. All of them had their pants down and at least one hand on his dick. Those who were the closest each had his hard-on aiming directly at her face. Those not so fortunate were queuing up in three lines. And there I was, I thought to myself, a moment ago upstairs deciding not to wear just a robe to go downstairs lest I appear "indecent."

"Hi, how are you, sweetie?" I heard Simone say from the other direction.

Walking over to her I gave her a nice sexy kiss. When it ended she said, "You're probably wondering what's going on, huh?"

I nodded and began to open my mouth, somewhat confused. Again, I had many questions: Where did all these guys come from? Why was Joa apparently taking them all on? What was I doing here?

Had Simone swallowed her mouthful?

"It's all worked out just perfectly," she answered her own question. "I was hoping to get some more semen and when I came downstairs, Joa was practicing her deep throat technique. For now, at least, she's letting me get most of the cum."

Suddenly I'd lost my appetite. Our relationship had always been a sharing one, well, to some degree, at least. I didn't know much about her work as an agent, but that was part of the deal. Yet, whenever we'd occasionally had sex with others we'd discussed it first or at least we were both in sync. Now she was going to be swallowing the semen from a large bunch of guys I didn't know and she hadn't told me about until just now.

I loved her sexuality, her desire to please me, her desire to please herself, her incredible mind, and her amazing body. But somehow just learning that she was going to suck off this bunch of guys was more than just stretching things. I felt betrayed. I felt like our relationship was breaking down, maybe ever since I'd learned about this whole secret agent thing. And, mostly, I was pissed.

On the other hand, what was I going to do? Was I going to stomp out like a child not getting his way? We'd never said anything about being exclusive. I knew that part of her job was to do whatever it took to get the job done. She -- of all people -- was supremely qualified to do that. (And she looked like the kind of agent you only see in the movies.)

"You're OK with that, Ed, aren't you?" she asked.

"Well, it's just kind of a surprise. I'm still trying to figure out how I feel," I told her.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I didn't think it would upset you. You always thought the enjoyment I get from semen was a turn-on."

"Uh, yeah," I mumbled. "I guess."

"Oh, come on. You know how I always come from the taste of cum. Well, here's a rare opportunity for me to get a lot of it. You wouldn't deny a gal her heart's desire, would you?"

At the end of that statement she licked her tongue slowly around her lips and then opened her mouth wide, her tongue extending down toward her chin. To emphasize the intent, with her back to the guys in Joa's face, she opened the robe revealing her squeaky clean, flawless body. Her high and unrealistically large natural breasts quivered and then came to rest. She slowly shook her hips from side to side. I looked down at her trimmed nearly hairless pussy and those legs that went on for days, then moved my eyes back to her breasts and finally to that open, sensuous mouth.

I could think of nothing at the moment except her enchantments. I was putty in her hands. I was excited. Suddenly I wanted to see her suck all of those guys and drink their cum. I wanted to see her enjoying every last drop of it.

I was one sick puppy, but I didn't care. I had an insistent hard-on and I wanted to come all over this beautiful woman's -- my beautiful woman's -- welcoming tongue.

Suddenly, I realized, I was no longer pissed. It was time simply to be in the moment, to enjoy what was, and to stop overthinking everything.

"OK, guys, I've got breakfast almost ready," Simone announced to the room.

"I think we're almost there, too," Joa said, though her mouth was being invaded by at least two cocks at the moment. Hence, I was unsure of her exact choice of words.

"I'll put a low light under it and see how we're doing," Simone said. After doing the former she headed over to the table to do the latter.

I followed her to the far end of the table, amidst the cries of pleasure.

It's interesting that those same cries are the ones we say when we have pain: "Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, jeez. Oh, fuckin' shit." Of course there were some others that I'd never said while experiencing pain, such as "Swallow my fuckin' cum," "Take my load," and especially "Here, eat this, bitch!"

But, I digress.

It appeared that Joa had induced a mass of orgasms in the men surrounding her. Joa was naked from the waist up and that beautiful brown skin was well speckled -- in some areas, coated -- with gobs of semen. She looked like an "after" shot on a before-and-after bukkake party flyer.

"So, does your team's hiring requirement include 'must be able to perform extraordinary feats of semen production'?" I asked Simone as we just stood there enjoying the view.

For their part the guys were oblivious to almost anything except Joa's mouth, though a couple were stroking their cocks against her exquisitely well-shaped breasts. It was especially endearing to see the beautiful smile on her face and her mouth overflowing with semen. Try as she might to retain it, nevertheless, it was literally flowing over her lips and down her chin, as the cum seemed to be accumulating faster than she could swallow.

"Now, remember you promised," Simone yelled to her.

Through a mouth, obviously filled with something, I heard Joa yell, "Oll." I didn't know what that meant until I saw Simone race back to the kitchen cabinets and scoot back with a lead crystal glass bowl.

So they were going to be tag teaming a bowl of semen, huh? I found that exciting and disgusting, simultaneously.

I decided to stay with "exciting" and let go of the other feeling. Normally I don't do that too well, but with so little blood flowing to my brain at the time, I didn't think I could entertain any additional thoughts.

As the gang made way for Simone to get to Joa, one of the guys began to come, aiming at Joa's mouth, but apparently not a strong shooter. Simone could see that his orgasmic offering was going to be wasted and knew what had to be done. Kneeling in front of Joa, surrounded by all these guys violently stroking their cocks, she grabbed the comer's cock and aimed it into the bowl, working with his hand to complete his orgasm. He was telling the world loudly that he was enjoying himself and, though I was a little unsettled by seeing my girlfriend with a stranger, it was exciting to watch her handle the situation with only a small bit of semen missing the bowl.

"Yes. Yes. Oh, god. Yes!" Simone interjected as she made the dick shoot its white fluid into the bowl.

When he was nearly done, Simone swooped down to suck out what she could from his cock. After apparently all he was able to produce was either in the bowl or her mouth, Simone smiled at me and I watched a surprisingly large amount of cum dribble from her mouth into the crystal bowl that was now in Joa's lap.

The brimming mouthful that had been slowly but steadily dripping from Joa's mouth had been mostly drooled down her chin and a nice little pool of semen had begun to coalesce in the bowl. Seeing the white and the black skin of the two beautiful women seemed to have the effect of bringing several of the guys to new orgasms. I think four or five of them came at almost the same time in Joa's mouth or the bowl. Simone also took it upon herself to assist in the orgasms of at least two more that I could count. (How thoughtful.)

As the gang continued their spree of climaxes, seemingly unabated, I settled into a nearby chair to watch -- and, I must admit, to start stroking myself in a slow, but deliberate manner. Watching the two of them devour these cocks and their endless supply of semen was incredibly exciting.

It's one thing to see it on a computer monitor, television, or tablet. It's another to see the same interweaving of two beautiful and sexy young women with live cocks. Live cocks don't do things according to a porn director's instructions and this made for an even more interesting panorama of male juice production.

Whereas Joa had cum covering her mouth and lower part of her face, Simone had it virtually all over her head. Some of the guys who could not make it to Joa's mouth, or even close to the bowl, had come on the sides and top of her head and forehead and now semen covered her face. There were little cumsicles flopping from her eyebrows and drizzling off her chin and nose. Even her ears were not free of semen.

For a moment I fantasized about Simone as a student in one of my business classes getting up and explaining to the professor that she didn't hear the assignment because she had cum in her ears. I chuckled aloud -- although no one even turned my way -- and returned to focus on the ladies, their exhibition, and my stroking.

Both of the women were oblivious to the layers of errant juices that had missed their mouths. They were so focused on the ever-changing array of dicks that were constantly shooting and then receding so that others could take their places. Both were even more occupied by the female orgasms caused by these male orgasms and the juices that triggered them. In fact, at one point it was almost difficult to discern whether the truckload of men or the two women were screaming the loudest, announcing to the huge home that sexual climaxes were an ongoing affair.

Another thought popped into my head.

I think it was a result of my (a) having just had sex, (b) was actually getting hungry for some pancakes, and (c) was not physically involved at the moment with either of the women. I was just sitting there playing with myself. It was like watching live porn. In fact, that's pretty much exactly what it was.

Anyway, about this other thought: I was a little surprised at both women's disregard for the men. In most porn I'd seen the women tend to make eye contact with the guy or the camera (POV) or both. Here, though, Joa and Simone almost never looked up at the guys' faces. They were solely concentrating on their cocks. Those they stared at intensely as one was shooting and/or moving towards them. In fact, I think they looked at them as though they were living things, divorced from their owners. The men didn't even exist for them, it seemed. They were only focused on the cocks and the cum, smiling, climaxing, and sometimes even laughing at the enjoyment they (the guys) were providing and the fun they (the girls) were having.

Although it was probably something a therapist would admonish for objectifying sexuality, it was kind of sexy to me. Women just interested in cocks for their own pleasure in the consumption of their semen.

"Let me through. Let me through!" one rather average looking guy suddenly screamed as he pushed aside the crowd of near-to-climaxing men.

"It's Scully. Get outta the way!" yelled Simone, followed by some sound from Joa, both apparently wanting this guy's cock.




Deep Secret Ch. 28 - Mealtime



As Scully finally made it to the girls and their bowl, I was a bit surprised by how ordinary he looked. He was about 5'8" and balding slightly. In his t-shirt one noticed immediately that he could stand to lose at least 10 or 15 pounds. What was the big deal about him?

An instant later I began to learn what Scully brought to the table. He was a shooter. Maybe that's written a "Shooter."

Simone had always told me that she loved the fact that I produce a lot of semen when I come. She told me that she had only met a few men who did this virtually every time they came. I took this as a complement, especially because more than a few of the other women I'd been with -- the ones who'd sucked me off, at least -- were put off by how much I came. Simone at the time was the only woman I'd ever been with who always made me feel good about coming so much.

Anyway, here was Scully. He had just finished stroking his prick rather violently and, holding his hand still, he thrust forward, now aiming towards the bowl from about a yard away. His first semen shot was a huge arc that overshot the bowl in Joa's lap and splashed in the middle of her two already cum-drenched breasts.

As everyone around, well, the guys, almost stopped what they were doing to refocus on Scully and his dynamic dick, two things happened. First, Scully, realizing the aim of his cock was off, began to shoot his next volley -- even larger than the first, it appeared to shoot for several seconds -- directly into the bowl on Joa's lap. The other thing was Simone and Joa, both crying out in orgasmic amazement as Joa reached up to capture some of Scully's second shot in her hand and Simone dove for the huge glob of semen that was still sitting in Joa's cleavage from Scully's first shot.

Satisfied that she had licked up what she could of that shot, Simone spun around, her face suddenly in Joa's lap. She quickly moved the large, heavy bowl onto her own chest and opened her mouth, a signal for Joa to drool everything in her mouth into Simone's directly below.

This stunning scene made all the other climax-adjacent men stroke faster, wanting to be a part of what appeared to be the final ultimo of the current X-rated tableau.

As Joa was watching Scully continue to add heavily to the semen bowl, she made sure not to move her head so that the cum drooling into Simone's mouth was a steady and solid stream of frothy white liquid. Simone, thanks to her flexibility, had her two lower legs under her and her upper back on Joa's lap, clearly having an extended orgasm as she too seemed to be enjoying watching the continuing flood of cum shooting from Scully's cock into the bowl.

Eventually, all good things do come to an end and Scully's cock appeared to be slowing down. Fortunately, the other guys had become so turned on by seeing how excited and exciting the women were, they all appeared to begin to come at the same time.

Several shot their loads into the bowl resting on Simone's boobs. Two, one on either side of Joa's head, alternated getting her mouth, now overflowing with warm semen, around their cocks. A third, standing in front of her, aimed directly at Simone's face, occasionally hitting her filled-beyond-the-brim mouth as it moved from the dick on one side of her to the one on the other.

As the three currently involved shooters began to slow down, Joa took all three cocks, with Simone watching from just below, and sucked what she could as anyone nearby and not in her mouth, just rubbed his cock on her cheek, forehead, chin, or whatever else was free.

The room now became rather quiet as all of the other guys retreated to chairs around the large dining table to watch the final three guys and Scully dribble out whatever they had left.

It was quite sexy to watch as Simone extricated herself, moving the bowl carefully to the table as she went to work on two of the cocks as Joa took the other two. I got the feeling that some of the guys were a little envious that the women were sucking on the final four cocks, but as it appeared that all of them had had at least two or three orgasms each, I didn't think any one was ready to stand up, walk over, and embarrass himself by not getting hard.

As the last four made their ways to more free chairs around the table, Simone and Joa must have read the other men's minds. Both got up and walked down the row on either side of the table, sucking out whatever might have been left in each of the guy's plumbing.

"Ooh, you've got quite a bit dribbling down here, don't you?" asked Joa of one of the guys. "Mm, mm. Look at all of that delicious protein."

"You know, Sam, I remember your cum from earlier, you have a unique, almost apricot taste. You changed in your diet?" said Simone to the guy she was currently licking.

I could see that Simone had a small climax each time she got a taste of fresh jizz from each cock. By this time I had given up any jealousy I had and just enjoyed watching this sexual entity enjoy herself.

When the two of them reached the far end of the table, they shared an open mouthed kiss, and all could see the white liquid being exchanged between the two. As stated earlier, it was sexy to see Joa's black hands and arms entwined around Simone's back while Simone's white skin did the same on Joa.

After their embrace, Simone walked back to the table, those incredibly large breasts swaying just slightly, her entire upper body shiny with a sheen of semen.

Meanwhile, Joa had gone to the kitchen cabinet and came back with some things in her hands. Simone arranged two chairs across one corner of the table and put the bowl of cum in front of her. Joa sat down opposite her.

Joa set the items in her hand on the table with a few clinks. I couldn't wait to see what she'd retrieved.

"How uncivilized!" Joa teased. "All of this sucking and slurping! Young lady, have you no manners?"

Joa tsk-tsked Simone who was busy using her fingers to rescue as much of the larger globs of semen that clung to her shoulders, boobs, arms, legs, and then transferring them to her mouth.

Embarrassed, Simone slowly realized she was being somewhat uncouth and contritely said "Um, sorry, Joa" the way a child would when being chastised for some small infraction by a parent.

"Now pick up your soup spoon and eat your cum in a ladylike fashion," Joa told her.

I don't think I'd ever seen two women sharing a bowl of semen before. It was so hot that all the guys, including me, began to start playing with themselves again. 

We all just sat there watching the two of them eat spoonfuls of cum and making content sounds mixed with orgasmic little high-pitched squeals. It reminded me of two cats politely eating their cream out of a bowl. I also recall a brief strange thought that there was something bizarre about the whole scene.

I quickly dismissed that and went back to enjoying watching them enjoy the dessert course.

"Have you ever eaten cum with a spoon?" Joa asked Simone.

"I don't recall ever using a soup spoon," Simone replied. "It's been a while since I've had a bowlful."

"Well, kiddo," said Joa, "it doesn't get much better than this."

After a few moments, they started to feed each other spoonfuls of the plentiful white sauce, opening their mouths, letting some drip down their chins onto the spoon or back into the bowl. It was a scene right out of some gonzo porn film. I loved it. And from the moans I could hear from the other guys, they all were fascinated by Simone and Joa and their love of cum.

In fact, while they continued to delicately enjoy their climaxes and their cum soup, about half of the guys one at a time, staring at the two of them, walked up wanking and silently deposited some more cum in the bowl. With each shot of the newly arrived donor, Simone and Joa loudly -- and, mind you, in very unladylike manners -- egged the individual on, climaxing anew.

The scene played out for another several minutes as more guys got up and gave the bowl a refresh, each time being rewarded with a little suck at the end from one of the two women.

Well, as I said, there's that old saying about all good things. Eventually, it seemed that the semen supply began to run low. That was when they began to tilt the bowl to get enough to spoon up.

"Dear me," said Simone in mock discontent, "we are getting to the bottom of this delightful treat."

"True, sister," offered Joa, "but I must admit that between the orgasms my finger's been giving me and the taste of this divine cum, I am getting full and pretty beat. I don't know if my body can continue to orgasm this much without taking a break. A nap might be just the thing."

While each of the women had been enjoying the taste of the cum and the feel of her hand on her pussy, none of us guys had moved. We just continued to stare at them as them polished off that bowl of cum.

"I hear you, but wouldn't you like something to finish your meal? I mean, like something to wash it down?" asked Simone.

Watching the two of them suck up all of that cum, which now had to be cooling to a pretty nasty bit of vichyssoise (clearly not my cup of tea, as it were, but obviously suited the two women just fine), was one of the images of my younger years that has never left me.

At any other time in my life I could never imagine walking up to two mostly naked women, with my hard cock in hand, past a houseful of strange men. Yet, at the moment it felt like the natural thing to do. I didn't think anything of it. I was ready to share my semen and at least one of these two women seemed like they would be interested.

When I got up to the end of the table, both spoons had been licked clean and each woman was running her fingers around the bowl, getting any of the cum that was left, and transferring it to her mouth.

I had expected Simone to react, but not Joa, who had clearly expressed that she was contentedly cumful. However, noticing that there was a fresh dick in front of them, both women grabbed my butt, forcing my erection in between them, their mouths licking and sucking on either side as each pair of eyes stared into the others. They continued the licking for a few blissful moments.

Things changed and as Simone went to lick my balls, Joa sucked me deep into her mouth. She took me so deep, in fact, that I saw her nose getting awfully close to my abs. It was not as great a feeling as Simone, but it was very close. Simone had a way of doing it with no effort. Her mouth and throat was so comfortable with me in her that I could thrust and push however felt good. With Joa's deep throat I felt like she could hold it there for a while, but too much would make her gag.

In addition, Simone's throat was magical and alive. She somehow managed to make it work like a mechanism. Maybe she really was superhuman.

Regardless, it was so amazing having the two of women again working over my cock that I soon was ready to cum. Simone knew that I was ready and pulled me out of Simone's mouth, popping just my head into her own.

Joa moved to lick my balls as I began to shoot into Simone's mouth. The feeling of climaxing was enhanced by Simone's wailing as she came along with me. I could smell the pussy juices of the two of them as well as the manly smell from the semen that was still coating both of them.

The force of my orgasm even surprised me. I'd thought that with all of the climaxes I'd had in the past 18 hours, I'd be near to shooting a very tired squirt gun. Instead, I shot what felt like a water cannon into Simone's actively licking mouth. With Joa still enhancing the act with her ball licking, I shot four or fives times into Simone's loving mouth before she suddenly took my dick out of her mouth and aimed it at Joa's. Almost without missing a beat, Joa opened wide and, looking down, it reminded me of the way a mother bird feeds her babies in the nest.

Of course, Simone's timing was perfect and I went from ending one shot on her tongue to shooting a beautiful stream into Joa's upturned mouth. With both of their hands active on their respective clits, Simone and Joa simultaneously climaxed too.

Watching Joa and Simone turn up to me and make a show of playing with the cum made me so horny that I almost kidded myself into thinking that I could shoot some more. Unfortunately, I had shot my load, both figuratively and literally.

I slowly pulled out of Simone's grip and found a nearby chair in which to plop down, still watching the two of them gargle, bubble, slurp, and dribble the semen individually and together. It was a sight to behold.

As their cum play began to come to an end, Simone started to make a lot of noise moving the semen around in her mouth, extending her orgasm. Eventually, she looked at Joa and somehow managed to ask, even with all that cum foam in her mouth, "Do you want some more?"

Joa surprised me when she spoke the first words since Scully had moved into the spotlight (remember Scully?). She said, "No, sweetheart, that's yours. I've had my fill -- and then some. You enjoy."

Nodding slowly to Joa, Simone played with the cum some more and then let it all dribble out onto her two upraised hands. After staring at it and licking it, slurping just a little to swallow, Simone said, "Damn, that was great." Then, looking around the large room Simone said, "Thank you, guys. I really appreciate all the cum you've provided for us on this assignment."

Nods of "you're welcome" all around the room.

While she was thanking everyone, Joa surprised me: she moved her head down so she could slurp up a little of my cum from the pool in Simone's hands. She played with it briefly and then swallowed. "Ooh," Joa said, "You have primo pudjuice, Ed. Primo."

I didn't know exactly what the protocol is when your girlfriend's girlfriend/colleague tells you that you have good tasting semen, so I opted for the easy way out, "Thanks," was all I said.

"Hey. Mine," kidded Simone when she had a chance to speak after another of her mini-orgasms.

"Fuck you," kidded Joa.

"Not right now, hon. I'm beat," replied Simone.

The scene in the room was one of satisfaction. Everyone was spent. (Yes, pun intended.) You simply got the sense that no one could move -- even if he or she wanted to do so.

What a perfect moment, I thought. Though generally after a meal one or two couples sit back and enjoy the good feelings that come with it, this was just a variation on the theme. However, instead of two women and two men, here we had two women and dozens of men.

It was the perfect moment, I realized later, for someone who might want to surprise the friendly little group to do so. I wish I had thought of that a little sooner. What happened next was, well, the word "surprise" pales in comparison to the actual events.





Deep Secret Ch. 29 - Extremes



Thirty-some-odd men were relaxing, spread eagle on chairs, most at or near the very long dining table. Although most had shot their loads several times during the past hour or two and their limp dicks were just hanging out, a few of those selfsame dicks were still being gingerly stroked.

The two mostly naked women, after licking up whatever each could of the loads of semen covering the other's face, neck, shoulders, and extraordinary breasts, were slowly beginning to make some coffee in the kitchen. There had been talk of pancakes. Anticipating a carbohydrate-laden breakfast, everyone was pleasantly enjoying the blissful stupor of post-climactic – more like, post-multiple-climactic – bliss.

That was when it happened, suddenly and with what felt like a thunderclap – reminiscent of the storm in King Lear (Act III, Scene 2, "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!") – came the intruders. It seemed that all the large plate glass windows that we could see shattered at once and immediately the enormous house was filled with a blast of cold air as well as dozens of men who looked like they were from SWAT. Their clothing said nothing, however. It was just dirty beige, apparently better to blend in with the snowy environment.

No one had a chance to take any evasive action or even to move. Well, one or two, seemed to have the chance, but it was foolish of them to try to take it. There were three or four muffled shots and that was it. After that no one moved. 

We were ordered onto the ground, face down.

For me, this was something out of an action-adventure movie. My id or ego or whatever it is that wants to fight or take flight, faced with the fact that it could do neither, put me into "This is not happening" mode. This could not be real life. Could it? How could this be happening, I thought to myself, uncomfortably facing to my right as I saw a boot walking past my eyes, the carpet burning into my left cheek.

My heart was racing. It felt like I might pass out. This is not the way movies make me feel, so maybe this was real life – and Simone, Joa, the guys (the ones still alive), and I were goners. Not a pleasant thought.

In retrospect it's easy to see how I got to that place. At the time, however, I was just one scared guy wondering why I'd paid the last installment of the tuition for the fall semester when I began to doubt ever seeing another day – much less walk into a classroom again.

After scrambling heavily around the house in their bulky gear and assuring themselves that the place had no one else in it, they put plastic slip-on handcuffs on us all and threw blankets on us to keep us warm given that we were all half to mostly naked.

No one tried to say anything or make any kind of move. After hearing the shots fired at the few guys who had tried it, I assumed even the most macho among them was content to sit still.

Twenty minutes later, after going person to person and matching our faces with pictures on a laptop they had brought, they announced that they were a special operations unit: they were going to put all of us on a bus and then take us to an undisclosed location.

That struck me as odd. If Simone, Joa, and their team (the currently handcuffed guys) were a special operations unit, then who were these guys and where were they going to take us? I was about to ask when one of the masked invaders walked to Joa and Simone in the kitchen. I listened carefully as a somewhat heated discussion ensued, lasting for a few minutes. I wish I could have heard what was said, but we were all in the dining area. Simone and Joa were in the large kitchen itself.

Straining to hear what was going on became an exercise in futility as the sound of at least one diesel engine came from the front of the grand house. Although it wasn't visible from where we were sitting, a bus must have pulled up outside. Next, one by one we were taken to get our belongings and eventually, after putting something like gaffer tape over our mouths and black hoods over our heads, shuffled onto a large bus out front.

I had attempted to speak to my captor while gathering my stuff upstairs. He completely disregarded anything I had to say. He didn't even respond when I asked about who they were, that I was a citizen and had rights, or that my two female friends downstairs worked for the government.

Driving away I contemplated what the house might look like to a passerby with the lack of glass in the large open holes where dual or triple panes of glass used to be. Then I remembered that you could not see the house from the road, nor could you see any of the neighbors' homes from the house.

No one would even know we were missing.

With nothing else to occupy my time and desiring to at least momentarily forget my fears of the worst, I tried to remember in detail all the events of the past 24 hours. Actually, it was more like 18 hours since I had arrived in Mountain Creek. I realized I was exhausted. If I had just one wish at that moment it would have been to go home. I had not seen Joa or Simone since the first moments of the invasion. I hoped they were OK and that we'd get this mess straightened out soon. It must be a miscommunication issue I kept telling myself.

We did not drive far, probably to some facility in Mountain Creek itself, because in no more than fifteen or twenty minutes we stopped, were led out, and into some sort of building with hallways that echoed. A public school, maybe. After stopping momentarily, we were ushered into a cavernous room.

I was moved to a chair, pushed down into it, and, after they undid the temporary plastic bands that had been cutting into my wrists, handcuffed to the chair. There I sat for at least a half-hour. From what I could hear, all the others were addressed first and little by little the din began to decrease. Eventually the room was silent.

After even more silence I heard a door open and footsteps echoing around a large room. I was guessing it was a gymnasium, but not being able to see made that just a guess.

The footsteps got louder until at least two people seemed like they'd stopped close by. They took off my hood and I looked around. As I'd guessed, I was in a large gymnasium with portable screens on three sides of me. I was staring at two men in suits, each with a badge clipped to his waist.

They began to ask me questions. With the tape over my mouth still in place, I could only answer by shaking my head yes or no. After it appeared that my answers confused them, they (kindly) gently removed the tape. I took that to be a good sign: Why would they be nice to someone they thought was expendable?

"Mr. Spectere, why were you at that house?" the taller one said, walking over and opening a folder.

"I was up here to visit my girlfriend," I responded.

"Is this your girlfriend?" he asked, taking out an 8 x 10 photo of Simone in street clothes, sitting at a cafe table, and showing it to me.

As soon as I nodded in agreement, he looked at his partner. The eye contact they made told me that I had said something that had them stumped.

"How long have you known her?"

"A couple of months," I told him. "I started seeing her in September."

They both walked out of the makeshift booth. I heard them speaking to another person not far behind me, but I couldn't hear what was being said. Then one made a phone call. After a few minutes more a third person came to me and uncuffed me from the chair.

As I walked with him out of the enclosed space I looked around at the gym. It was empty except for a few folding tables with some other men in suits at them, staring into computer screens. He escorted me out the door to another room down the hall where I encountered the first woman I'd seen since losing track of Simone at the house. She provided me with some paperwork and instructed me to read and sign it.

"This swears you to secrecy about the events of today. If you ever reveal to anyone what happened, you agree to enter voluntarily the witness protection program or, possibly, be locked up for up to 15 years. This is non-negotiable..." she droned on for many more minutes about the privacy act and the national security act, and some other acts about which I'd never heard. (She did not mention the third act of King Lear, however!) I signed the forms and left. I was surprised to see my car had been moved to the school's parking lot.

I did as I was instructed: I threw my stuff into the back, got in, and drove directly home. The two-hour drive back gave me time to try to consider what exactly had happened. Yet, by the time I pulled into the garage in my building I still had no idea what had happened. I had questions about which team were the good guys? Who was Davidson working for? Who was Joa? What happened to Hastings and the General? What about Orm? And Arty? Who were all the guys getting their rocks off at Joa's house this morning? What happened to them?

In fact, I still had no idea what exactly had happened to me. I wanted to see Simone to ask her a million questions. I phoned her number and got a recording that said the phone number is no longer valid. Hmm.

After unpacking and trying to watch some college football, I drove over to Simone's place. I knocked and rang the bell but I got no answer. As I was leaving, a middle-aged woman came out of another apartment. I asked her about Simone's apartment.

"No," she said. "I haven't seen a soul come out of or go into that place in a couple of weeks." As she walked away she added, "Too bad. I wanted to fix my nephew up with that nice young woman, you know, the one with the big..." She held her hands in front of her chest as thought she were hefting cantaloupes.

"Oh, OK," I mumbled. There was not much to add, "thanks." 

I called my neighborhood pizza place to place an order, stopped by the market for some beer, and then picked up the pizza.  By the time I got back to my place I still hadn't heard from Simone. The set of events of the past 24 hours was as enigmatic as ever. It was as though Simone had disappeared – or maybe never existed.

Even though it was Saturday night, I couldn't think about doing anything. I couldn't even figure out what I was feeling. All I knew was that I kept having more questions.

I hit the sack before 10:00. (Some big Saturday night, huh?) I was a little drunk and full of pizza and beer – and exhausted. And I still had no answers.

In less than a minute I was out cold.

Sleep came as a needed tonic. At times I slept soundly, but then the heavy pizza sitting in my gut would complain loudly and I'd awaken for a moment or two before falling back into the arms of Morpheus. (Too much? I figured that someone would ask: When did Laurence Fishburne's character in The Matrix show up and why is he falling into his arms? Well, duh: It's a metaphor.)

After a few hours, some slight movement awakened me. As I stirred awake, I became aware of soft skin pressing next to mine. It felt great. I knew I was dreaming because Simone had disappeared.

Or had she?

When I realized that the two breasts pushing against my back were hers I wanted to turn around and make love to her. But, I didn't. In fact, expecting that I was still dreaming, I didn't respond at all, except for a small moan when her hand reached around and began to fondle my balls.

That felt real.

My mind was a sea of conflicts being tossed around like a ship entering the strait between Scylla and Charybdis. I wanted to ask her a million questions. I wanted to get one of her indescribable blowjobs. I wanted to know if she was back for good. I wanted to know how she avoided whatever happened today. I wanted to know why the men who interrogated me had her picture. Blah! The list of questions just continued to grow.

So did my dick.

She moved herself down to my crotch and began to lick under my cock, just where her hands had been playing. My cock was at nearly full length and we were both happy to see her.

My thoughts in my brain were still spinning when she said, in between licks at my cock and balls, "So, you're OK?"

I had to think for a minute exactly how best to answer her. Finally I said, "No, not really. Well, yeah, I guess." I paused to think for a moment. "I'm OK."

"Very convincing," she kidded. "I'm sure you have even more questions than you did when you found out about my undercover work. What was that? Just a month or so ago?"

As soon as the last word came out of her mouth, my cockhead entered it. She did the amazing suck thing she did often – and of which I never tired – and within ten or fifteen seconds I felt like I wanted to come. Damn! She was amazing.

She began then to slowly lick my cock as she continued her work on me, I began to have my doubts about, well, everything. Why was she here? Why wouldn't she tell me what was going on? What had happened? Why had I been "run in" by guys with guns and badges?

While ruminating on my list of questions she had successfully gotten my entire cock in her throat and was now vigorously licking my balls with her tongue. Her hands were busy with my ball sack and playing around the underside of it. (I said "successfully," but it was never anything she had to work at. In fact, I had no doubt she could deep throat a yardstick.)

In almost no time I forgot all the questions. I even forgot that I had a list of questions. I could smell her perfume and found myself stroking her short blonde hair and the back of her head. Her skin felt incredibly smooth and very sexy as I felt her throat giving my cock a workout.

Not having thought much about sex since the morning's mountain mélange, I now, to my surprise, was ready to come. She was able to control my orgasms, at least so it always seemed. If she wanted a mouthful, but wasn't ready yet, she'd keep me on the edge for a long time. This generally provided her with more in the way of quantity.

If she wanted my semen ASAP, all she had to do were the kinds of things she was now doing and I was ready in no time.

No time was here. She pushed me even further back into her throat as her tongue put pressure on the underside of the base of my cock and that did it. I could feel the climax coming down the lane at a breakneck speed.

When my first shot of semen sped to the cock head I could feel her throat tighten around its business end. That first shot must have gone right down to her stomach. Knowing that I was coming set her off. She began to have these small twitches that I could feel in her neck as her muscles tensed for a moment before seeming to lock into a taut position. She remained that way for the rest of our mutual orgasm.

Except for one detail: she moved my cock out of her throat so she could taste my cum. It was one of the many things I loved about her. She loved my cum. She always wanted more. If some spilled onto my leg or the bed sheet or the kitchen table, after making sure that I had no more to give and dutifully cleaning off every drop she could find on me, my cock, her face, boobs, and hands, she'd go after any semen that might have escaped her.

It enabled her to have bigger and longer orgasms. Sometimes I'd look at her across the room and I'd want to walk over to her, just to jerk off in her mouth. In fact, there were many times I did just that.

Yes, our sex life was way too fixated on her giving me blowjobs, but that's what she wanted. Who was I to argue?

I continued to shoot gobs of cum into her mouth as I felt her rolling the liquid around, over her tongue and around her teeth. She kept coming as long as I did, in fact, she kept coming long after I stopped.

When she finally let my now-shrinking cock escape from her mouth, I could hear her breathe in a little air. She had told me on several occasions that it enhanced the flavor of the cum. It also made her continue to climax. It was always a sight to behold.

Her gratification satisfied, she swallowed her mouthful in two loud gulps. Even in the dim bedroom I could see her beautiful smile shining at me.

As she moved to snuggle in my arms I began to ask her questions, "Simone, what the hell – "

"Shh," she stopped me. "It's a long story and I can't tell you anyway. There was a mix-up. That's all."

"A mix-up? Are you kidding me? A mix-up that killed people? A mix-up that treated me like a terror suspect?" I asked her a stream of questions, getting so worked up it surprised even me. Finally, I ended my tirade, "Simone, you have to explain what happened today."

"Ed, I don't. I mean, I can't. I'm not able to tell you," she responded.

I persisted, "After all this time, after the basement episode, the party, the file, Orm, and everything you've told me, you can't tell me what this was all about?"

Expecting her to say something, I paused. She looked away for a moment, as though she'd made a difficult decision.

"Ed, I came here this evening to say goodbye. I was unsure if I should or not, but now I realize that it was a mistake."

"You mean you're leaving? I won't see you anymore? What about us?" I was stunned by this revelation.

She didn't respond as she silently got out of bed and began to get dressed. In the semidarkness I could see her put on her white bra with the extraordinarily oversized cups and it brought back so many exciting memories, times that were fun, times during which I expected to settle down with this amazing woman. And now, times that were never going to happen and times that were going to become cherished memories.

"Come on," I urged her. "Tell me what's going on."

As she finished putting on her socks, she sat down on the bed next to me.

"Sweetie, I know you have a million questions and I just can't answer them. I can only tell you that I will always miss you. I loved the time we spent together, the fun, the laughter, the closeness," she paused to kiss my head. "Ed, this is so hard for me. I love you. I think we could have settled down together, but in my line of work it's impossible. I'm so sorry, Ed. I am."

She gave me a hard, long kiss. I could tell that she was crying. It was so unexpected: she was always the stoic. Simone crying was something I'd never seen.

After we ended the kiss – and there were several false endings – she leaned over and gave my cock a few kisses. My cock surprised me by becoming hard in almost no time at all. She must have sucked some semen that was there from earlier into her mouth because she seemed to have a strong reaction, the kind of reaction I loved in her.

Before I knew what was happening, she took my full length deep into her throat, forcing me in and out as though she were fucking her throat with my cock. After a few minutes of that extraordinary feeling we both knew that I could probably come again, even after just having had an orgasm.

"Ed, please let me have your cum. Please, baby. I need it. I need it," she challenged me.

I was so torn by the past half-hour's events that I couldn't say a thing. My cock, however, started thrusting towards her mouth and clearly it wanted to give her what she requested.

My brain wanted answers to all the questions, the big one being "Why couldn't she stay?" I meet the perfect woman and after a string of increasingly more bizarre events, she drops by to say, "Take care. Have a good life."

What kind of crap is that?

Although my focus was on the relationship we had for several months, the focus of my libido was obvious: it wanted another orgasm. And with little further impetus, Simone coaxed it into giving it to her.

While jerking me with one hand, her mouth went down to my balls, sucking playfully on each and then putting pressure with her tongue on the sack and the place underneath it. I could hear her slurping and moaning. It so turned me on that I stopped my useless stewing on what was currently happening in my brain and gave myself over to the orgasm that was obviously in my very near future.




Deep Secret Ch. 29 - Extremes



After making my balls happy, Simone returned to lick back and forth up my shaft and played with all the juices that had accumulated in my slit and were running down my shaft. Now that my cock was very wet, she shoved her head down, in one quick swoop, and suddenly her face was pressed upon my abdomen. I could feel her lips tightly wrap themselves around the base of my prick, the rest of which was now implanted somewhere down her throat. Enjoying the feeling of fullness that came for her when she deep throated, she proceeded to move her whole head up and down on me, more and more rapidly until even I was surprised that she could keep up the pace.

As expected it made my desired (by both of us) climax happen and after one sharp press downward, I began to come again.

This orgasm felt enormous, almost as if the one I'd just had a little while earlier was the warm up and this one was the real one.

Once she knew the orgasm was happening, Simone worked me out of her throat and kept about a third of my cock in her mouth, using one hand to hold part of the shaft and the other to caress my balls. (At least that's what it felt like. In the moment I just knew that I was having the most incredible orgasm.)

I lost count of how many spouts of semen I shot into her mouth, but it felt like nine or ten. They were strong ones and the feeling was more intense than any orgasm I think I'd ever had. It took me to a different reality where there was nothing in the world except my pleasure.

Eventually, though, I suppose all good things must come to an end. And, incredible things like this orgasm have to end too.

Simone – I realized that I'd forgotten even about Simone as the orgasm itself had taken over all of my brain – was having her own climax. Whether it was as substantial as mine, I'd never know. However, she appeared to be in her own world too.

After we both had come down from that place, I could feel my heartbeat returning to normal. I could hear Simone's respiration, through her nose, now doing the same. I stroked her shoulder and with my other hand reached down to caress a part of one of those unique unimagineably too large bra cups and the breast it contained.

A few moments of this calm caressing appeared to bring both of us back to the here and now. I noticed that I was moaning as her tongue was washing over my soft cock still in her mouth.

All of a sudden she was up and almost bolted for the hallway, straight to the entrance to my apartment. I grabbed a robe and tried to run after her, but when I reached the door, she was just leaving to run down the stairs. I caught a glimpse of her in all black, her short blonde hair a striking contrast to the outfit. I stopped at my front door. There was no reason whatsoever to try to go after her. When Simone decided something, she made it happen. What was I going to do?

Just as she was disappearing down the stairs, she turned. She pursed her lips and a mouthful of cum dribbled out from them to drip down onto her open palm.

"I'll always love you, Ed. I'll never forget you. Thank you for everything."

As I was about to respond, I saw her quickly slurp the contents of her palm into her mouth and swallow. "Thanks for that too," she added. "Oh, and as far as the mystery of our target, you know, who Arty was and everything, well, I solved it! I figured it out when I saw it. The secret lies in a couple of pairs of letters: RC and HH."

And then she was gone.






Deep Secret Ch. 30 – Nepenthe



A final scene, one that you're unable to forget, is always a good idea. The final shot in Casablanca is a classic with the slow pan upward as we see Louis and Rick walking across the wet tarmac, Rick saying something like "You know, Louie, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship." From my recollection the voice-over was added after the scene was shot, but the movie wouldn't be the same without it. (This is right after Louis gets to repeat the famous "Round up the usual suspects" from earlier in the film. And I remember reading that the whole scene was shot on a sound stage in a studio, but this is all beside the point.)

I suppose if we're just talking about last lines, there are: "It was beauty killed the beast." from King Kong, "...may God bless us, every one." from A Christmas Carol, "Well, nobody's perfect." from Some Like It Hot, "Good. For a moment there, I thought we were in trouble." from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. "Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads." from Back to the Future. "Traffic was a bitch." from The Player.  "I thought Christmas only comes once a year." from The World Is Not Enough.

Then, just in terms of unforgettable scenes, who could forget the end of Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back when Han Solo gets encased in carbonite?

One of the most wonderful finales to a movie is the ending of King of Hearts, a fanciful film from Philippe de Broca, released in 1966. If you have never seen it, I won't try to explain it. But I will tell you it's a comedy that takes place in Europe during the mayhem of World War I. A man wearing nothing more than a helmet with a rifle strapped across his back and carrying a birdcage seeks refuge from the madness of war at the metal gate of an insane asylum whose inhabitants he knew. (Whether they were really insane or not was in question.)

It turns out that what he knew to be a kindly insane asylum is now a convent. And he's standing there, naked, holding a birdcage. And the nuns come out to see him in all his glory. It's been a long time since I watched the film, but that image has stayed stuck in my mind.

Well, that was I, standing in the hallway of my apartment building that Saturday evening. Although I was wearing a robe, it was unbelted. For all practical purposes I could have been the confused Private Charles Plumpick character standing at the gate of a convent, naked, with a birdcage in my hand.

Only in my case the camera did not zoom out and credits did not start to roll.

No, I was alone, still sort of drunk, still a little buzzed from the as-always great deep throat blowjob Simone had just given me before her departure. Of course, I would never forget the sexy cum drool into the palm of her hand and the slurp back up, followed by the loud gulp. That, too, would remain in my mind forever.

I sighed deeply and did a mental shoulder shrug. There wasn't much more I could do. I turned around, walked back into my apartment, and closed the door behind me.

"The secret lies in a couple of pairs of letters: RC and HH," she said as she left. I thought about these words, her last words -- or whatever they were. I guess I didn't get "last words," I just got two pairs of "last letters." What the hell did that mean? How had four letters helped her to solve the mystery of determining who the sadist was? I immediately thought about bra cups, but I didn't remember seeing any of her dozens of bras (her favorite piece of underwear! And, now mine too.) whose labels read 30HH. I couldn't imagine anyone that size, but I suppose it's possible. (On the other hand, before I met Simone I couldn't have imagined what a 30G bra looked like either.)

It was all too much. I was having a hard enough time just dealing with her leaving. Puzzle solving, as far as brain activity goes, was simply not available at the moment.

As I went for another beer I noticed it was eleven something, still Saturday, the Saturday before Thanksgiving. The holiday was not going to be anything like I imagined it would be. In fact, I could not imagine much of anything about which to be thankful. 

After watching some TV and finishing my beer, I hit the sack, depressed, sad, lonely, and drunk. I just wanted the day to end. To myself I thought: tomorrow has got to be a better day, right?





Deep Secret Ch. 30 – Nepenthe



So, when the very attractive and, the now dressed in a feminine fashion Amanda Goldon, Special Agent, FBI, appeared at my door and invited me to dinner, I accepted.

We had a nice, quiet dinner. I discovered that she was intelligent, quite charming, and that she made me laugh. She had gone to law school and then joined the Bureau after a few years of work as an ADA. She saw it as a continuation of the same goal: putting away bad guys.

The remainder of the conversation was entertaining and did not involve any mention of her line of work or Simone, Joa, Orm, Arty, or any other nefarious types.

When we returned to my place, she asked if I had anything planned for the next day, Thanksgiving. I explained that I'd had some plans with Simone, but with everything that had happened -- all of which she knew -- now I had none. She asked me if I'd like to do something, as long as it was after 4:00 PM because she had to go in to the office to finish some reports.

The evening with her had been so pleasant that I decided to do something special. I told her that I'd make us a Thanksgiving dinner that she'd never forget. She accepted and told me that she'd bring the wine. I agreed.

The next day I rushed around to every shop that I hoped might be open on the holiday, picking up everything I thought I'd need for a last-minute Thanksgiving bash just for the two of us.

Before I knew it I was feeling excited to have dinner with her, surprisingly excited at the anticipation of her arrival. For a few moments during the day I wondered if I was overcompensating for the feelings of loss, disappointment, and betrayal I'd been having, all intermixed, regarding Simone. I decided that it would just be a nice evening and that I'd take one step at a time.

She arrived with two chilled bottles of vintage Champagne. (Not too shabby, I told myself.) I had managed to get everything together with the help of some high-end markets that cater to people trying to make dinner look like you did it all yourself when, in fact, they do everything and you just pick it up. Regardless, when we sat down to eat, the house smelled wonderful and the Champagne complemented the turkey and all that went with it perfectly.

Dinner was superb, accompanied by some Baroque violin and keyboard concertos. We learned a lot more about each other. (In truth, I learned more about her because the Bureau apparently had quite a dossier on me.) As we were finishing, it began to snow. I lit a fire and, after she helped me clean up, we opened the second bottle of bubbly and moved to sit by the fireplace. I had stopped by a wonderful French pastry shop and picked up their last Tarte Tatin, which made for a perfect accompaniment.

Between the big meal and the bottle of Champagne, both of us more than simply began to relax. In fact, we were having a great time. Then she turned her attention from the fireplace to look at me with a sober expression.

"Ed, I would like to tell you about the characters you were dealing with, but I need you to keep this between us."

I agreed. Amanda continued, "First, I should tell you that we went to work with the information you provided and it proved invaluable for us to find the mastermind behind this operation. It was your memory of exactly what Ms. Ponte -- sorry, we generally refer to everyone in a case by his or her last name -- Simone, said to you. You told us that you remembered her telling you that she solved it. In our notes we have, 'I figured it out when I saw it. The secret was in a couple of pairs of letters: RC and HH.'"

My memory is sometimes vivid. Other times, not so much. However, I did remember almost verbatim what she said just before she left. Amanda had it almost to the letter.

"So what did you figure out?" I asked.

"Well, let me back up a little. We've been following Orm for almost two years and, although we had a great deal of evidence, it wasn't a slam-dunk. From the beginning we knew we were dealing with a sociopath, a sick, twisted, slime-ball. We wanted to put that sucker in a cell and throw away the key. But we wanted to make sure that his entire operation was destroyed too."

"I understand. From what Simone told me he would deserve worse." I said. "Hey, what can you tell me about all those people involved in that subterranean meeting? Hastings, 'The General,' and the rest?"

"Sorry, Ed, I can't be specific there. You see, several of the people involved were undercover agents and several were, well, basically hired guns or mercenaries. They would have worked for anyone who paid them enough. In our case, we had leverage on them. But most of the people you met were just plain bad people, ones with virtually no redeeming value. The detail they went through to make it look real showed how important your part in this was."

"Well, it wasn't like I knew that. I thought I was helping a government organization to take down bad guys. I guess, in a way I was, but not the way I understood at the time. OK. Tell me what you can. What did Simone mean by 'I figured it out when I saw it'? What do RC and HH stand for?"

"The fellow we thought was Orm's son, turns out to be the son of a childhood friend of Orm's, no blood relation. Based on a great deal of the years of evidence that had been collected, we'd suspected that he might be the mastermind of the entire operation, but Simone's words proved to be pivotal: She said 'when I saw it.' We had a suspicion that Arty was just a made up name. It turns out that is just how he was known, but he actually went by... Hold on. I'm getting ahead of myself.

"HH, after we eliminated many other names, are the initials of Hans Holbein, one of the great Masters, a portrait painter of the Northern European Renaissance."

"Yeah, he did some well-known paintings of the British royals like Henry VIII and King Edward, right?

"Right on the money, Ed." She paused to sip some more Champagne. "He was commissioned to do a painting in 1533 known for its anamorphosis, or transformation."

"Oh, right. That was when perspective was a big deal with painters all over Europe. He painted that one with the weird thing in it. The Ambassadors, it was called, I think."

"Exactly. And that weird thing was a skull. So, without considering the intricacies of why Renaissance painters put skulls in their paintings, we surmised that the fellow you've been calling Arty, was actually a verbal name comprised of two letters: R and C. RC stands for ranjit craniul in Romanian or rideo calvaria in Latin. Both of these expressions mean smiling skull.

"The Smiling Skulls is a name of an international cartel of extraordinary criminal scumbags. We thought RC was its leader, but we never had any solid leads on who RC was. However, when we got the footage from the upstairs party at Davidson's house, we saw that your girlfriend -- " 

"Now, wait a minute, " I interrupted her. "She used to be my girlfriend. She exploited me."

"Sure she did," Amanda said to me sarcastically. "She forced you into letting her give you blowjobs."

"I'm shocked at such language coming from a law enforcement officer," I kidded her.

"Hey, you're the one whose dick she swallowed." We both laughed. "Anyway, when Simone was laying on her back and sucking that guy's junk, we figured that she could see his birthmark, located between his anus and his testicles. In most other views, it just looks like a birthmark, but from that angle (anamorphically) it looks like a grinning skull. Hence, the RC."

"So that's what she meant by she figured it out when she saw it," I exclaimed, slapping my forehead.

"Yep, she was so amazingly comfortable with his enormous organ deep in her throat that she could see it upside down. Once we figured that out, we were able to stay under the radar and bust the entire organization. Orm, RC, and the rest of them will be spending the rest of their useless and despicable lives behind bars."

We continued discussing the rest of the case, at least the parts she could share with me. Simone Ponte (not her real name, but Amanda said it was best if I didn't know that) was initially hired by RC's pet handyman, Davidson, because of her "skill set" to seduce me. That worked out just fine for a while. However, then the Feds stepped in and offered her a deal not to go to prison if she became a double operative, letting RC and company think she was still working for them, but feeding this vital information to the Feds.

They were confident that she'd be true to her word. And she was, sort of. After the party at Davidson's house, Simone took advantage of a great deal of cash changing hands and managed to get her SUV (a car I knew nothing about) loaded with more than seven hundred pounds worth of cash that evening -- before the party was raided by the US Marshall Service, the FBI, and local law enforcement! Over the next few days she made a few trips overseas and managed to take several briefcases out of the country filled with about one million dollars each. Amanda and her colleagues estimate that she was able to steal more than $30 million from the RCs.

So much for honor among thieves.

That was most of the story. RC, Joa, Orm, Davidson, and many others were facing multiple counts for a litany of crimes. It was so good to hear that all of these terrible people were going away and that I was free and cleared of any involvement. It was also, in a strange way, nice to hear that Simone had disappeared with millions of dollars, probably the score of her life. I knew I'd never see her again, but I was happy that she was OK. I briefly mulled over all of the zeroes in the number $30 million, but I had to let it go.

I got up to put another log on the fire. When I sat back down, Amanda indicated that she was cold, came over to me, and snuggled in closely. This surprised me. Yes, she was hot, but just a few days ago she might have considered me a "perp." Now she was in my arms.

It was unfamiliar, the memories of Simone notwithstanding. On the other hand, it felt sincere and wonderful. It felt very real, this new feeling of closeness and I told this to her. Her response caught me completely off guard.

After sitting quietly for a moment or two, Simone said, "In the original Star Trek, Mr. Spock says 'It is curious how often you humans manage to obtain that which you do not want.'"

She let that sit out there for a moment as I digested it. I guess that's what had happened with Simone and me. She was beautiful, extraordinary in every way, any man's dream. I wanted her when I first saw her at the gym.

But once she was mine (or so I thought), the reality of being with her was not what it had originally appeared. The Paul Simon lyric "Everything looks worse in black and white" came to mind.

"OK, Special Agent Goldon, you got me," I said to her, still thinking about all the events that had happened over the last few days and the last few months. Wow! What a journey. "How can you be so good and fast at getting to the core of issues?"

She reminded me that she was a lawyer and law enforcement officer. Those were both professions where getting to issues was a key to success. Hmm, I thought about this.

My brain was pretty wasted. I was excited to have this attractive, smart woman here cuddled up with me. The alcohol from the Champagne was coursing through my body, adding to the feeling of ease and contentment. It was when she began to stroke my thigh that my cock began to sit up and complain about its sitting on the bench for the past week or so. It wanted to get in the game. Given the shape it had been in, playing several times a day for the past couple of months, it was growing impatient.

"So, I guess you're planning to get to the issue right now, huh?" I asked her.

With a nod, Amanda smiled at me and then turned her attention to the crotch of my jeans, beginning slowly to pull down my zipper. I assisted her in getting my cock freed from its confines. Satisfied that I was comfortable, she moved her head down to my now accessible, erect, and attention-demanding cock. Without waiting a moment, she slipped the head into her mouth.

Her tongue put pressure on the underside of the head and she began to suck hard and then less, hard and then less. These alternative patterns emulated to some degree the feeling of going in and out of a vagina. It was heaven. I just sat back and watched her work. In just a few moments she went from Special Agent Goldon to a fellatrix, my fellatrix. Yes!

After some time just focusing on the head, she began to move slowly down the shaft, taking more in her mouth, easing it out a little and then going down slightly further. She had still not used her hands; it was all just her mouth with its tight fit around the shaft and her tongue. This was a lot more than I'd expected this evening, but I was not complaining.

Once she had gotten about half of it down deep into her mouth, I felt like I'd hit the back. She didn't gag and it didn't seem like it was uncomfortable for her. It simply felt like I wasn't going any farther into her. That was OK with me. I was in heaven. Plus, she was moaning, the more she kept sucking on me the more she was making very happy noises.

It was only then that I realized I was making similar noises.

Amanda pulled off my cock and just stared at it in the firelight. She licked at the underside of the head, pulling strings of precum off to hang between her tongue and lips and my head. Each time she tasted the precum she would shiver with pleasure. It was quite clear to me that she enjoyed what she was doing. If someone had mentioned Simone to me at that moment, I would have said, "Who?"

In fact at that moment, Amanda, my penis, and I were having the best time ever. Maybe I wasn't swallowed up the way Simone had of engulfing a cock, but somehow that had never felt real; somehow that felt like a circus act, a sword-swallowing act. Even with the obvious pleasure Simone received from doing it, this new intimacy with Amanda had a difference that I couldn't explain.

While I'd been thinking about the great feelings she was giving me, Amanda seemed to be similarly enjoying herself. The fact that I hadn't come in nearly a week, had me ready to come almost the moment I hit the back of her mouth, but she seemed to be enjoying herself so much that I tried to hold back.

As she continued to do the magic she was doing, I worked at removing what clothing I could of hers. I knew she worked out and it showed in her slender figure, but I wanted to see more of it. I managed to pull off her sweater as she briefly let me pull her mouth off my cock. She was wearing a top with straps and a little bit of lacey trim. I managed to pull that off also even though she grunted in protest as I separated her from her new best friend momentarily.

She went back to work after the interruption with even more vigor. I wanted to get to her bra, but the position we were in made that difficult. In fact, it was at that moment that, while orally maintaining a firm connection to my cock, she moved down so she was between my legs with her butt facing the fireplace.

As she would occasionally come up for air and lick at the larger flow of precum, she would make those same pleasure sounds. I leaned forward a little to stroke that head of strawberry blond hair ringing her face. She looked so beautiful. Her unblemished skin appeared warm in the firelight, especially against the white lace of the bra.

With all of her focused labors and the fact that I hadn't come in so long, I was getting ready to do so. I wanted to alert her to the fact that I was almost there, but I didn't want to break the mood with something as crass as "Hey! I'm gonna come. 'Zat OK witchou?"

Deciding that I'd try to use a nonverbal method to communicate this fact, I began to make my pleasure noises considerably louder and to rock my hips up and down. I did not know what her response would be so I was surprised when she began to intensify both her movements -- with her head moving even more rapidly to match my hips -- and the volume of her own moans. In fact, I thought she might have been moaning something like "Mm-mm" in increasingly higher pitches, but I wasn't sure. What I was sure of was that she wanted me to come exactly where she had me.

It was in response that she moved her hands to my balls, the first time she had even touched me with anything other than her mouth and tongue. It was as though she was trying to coax the load out of them, all the while continuing to use her mouth and tongue to do the same on my cock.

Before I knew what was happening, I had received her message: I was about to come. I made one ultimate thrust into her mouth and I began shooting. I think I concurrently let out some sort of howl, but of that I'm less sure.

Shots number one and two must have hit the back of her mouth hard. It seemed to me that I could hear them hit, but who knows? I was amazed that she seemed to be enjoying my orgasm almost as much as I was. She also made some sort of loud sound with each shot. I definitely felt a connection, but given where my cock was at the moment, anyone would feel, at least for the nonce, connected.

As each successive volley of semen seemed to explode from my recently neglected cock I realized that I'd been neglecting my caressing of her head. (Even though I was in the throes of orgasmic bliss I remembered the importance of giving to others: What a selfless lover, huh?) I went back to my duties just as soon as I had collected my wits.

That was not the only collection happening: cum was collecting in the front of her mouth and washing over my cock and her tongue, the latter still doing playful things to my head even while I was continuing to ejaculate. I tell you: these Feds do their all to get their man. At present, it was the cum that came with the man, but why quibble?

After an insane number of shots of semen, my orgasm was coming to an end, sort of the whimper following the earlier bang. Amanda had a mouthful of semen, obvious from the way her cheeks had expanded to accommodate it. I liked that about her. Then I remembered some girlfriends I'd had who let it all accumulate and then spit it out -- and not in the fun, playful way. I decided that from the delightful noises Special Agent Goldon had made during the entire encounter, this was probably not going to be the case. 

Then she surprised me again, when, as I was almost completely soft, she carefully released my cock, maintaining the entire load in her mouth. She kind of grinned at me (as much as you can with a mouthful of cum) and her eyes sparkled. It was the kind of nonverbal gesture that you could not put into words. You just know. She followed that up by taking one of my hands and putting it on her breast, showing me what she wanted me to do. As soon as I was doing as she instructed, she moved that same hand down to her groin. There, she pressed it firmly with almost no movement against the area right at her clit.

She took her other hand and moved it below her mouth. While still beaming at me, she slowly let all the ejaculate dribble from her mouth into her palm. As it was pooling it became obvious that there was more than a palmful. Being creative, as one would imagine with her training, she stopped her dribbling. She leaned down to the cum pool, licked her tongue around it for a while, and then loudly slurped all of the cum back into her mouth. She put up one finger, making the universal gesture for "one moment," got up and walked gracefully into the kitchen.

A moment later she came back with a small, stemmed aperitif glass. She looked so pretty, her blond hair spilling onto her shoulders, her fair skin covered only in her bra, and her dark skirt and similarly colored pantyhose below. I was surprised at how full her breasts looked. Maybe she had put my hand on just "the spot" earlier and I didn't feel their fullness. Regardless, she looked so much like a model that it was hard to imagine that she was, in truth, a Fed.




Deep Secret Ch. 30 – Nepenthe



She returned to her position between my legs, took my hand back to its place on her one breast, and then moved one hand back to her groin. It was then that she began the dribbling thing, this time letting all of the cum slowly drip down her lip, down her chin and finally into the glass. It was a magical sight.

Like most men, I generally am soft for a while after I come. And that usually means that even the most perfect stimulation will neither cause me to get erect nor even to give me much interest in sex again for at least some minutes. In this case, however, Amanda had found a perfect cocktail (or maybe it was the perfect aperitif) to get me hard again. She finished letting the cum drip and made sure to clean up what was on her chin. That little bit she simply slid into her mouth, clearly enjoying its unique taste.

"Gee, Ed, that was awesome," she said, looking at the glass. "You know, I've always had a thing for cum, but the guys I've been with -- and there have not been many -- didn't really enjoy my 'kinkier' side. Not that playing with cum is that kinky, but they've been more the missionary position types. But, when I watched some of the stuff that you and Simone did on the videos we have -- 'it's a tough job, but someone has to do it!' -- I was so turned on, I couldn't believe it."

With that, she poured me some more Champagne and then said "To life!" with conviction. I clicked my glass with hers and we both raised our glasses to our lips, swirling the glass around to get the aroma (or the nose, as wine connoisseurs say) of its contents. I took a sip of my Champagne and it was refreshing. Amanda took a sip of her glass of cum and it set off an orgasm that surprised me with its physicality. Her body trembled, her eyes tightly closed, her blond hair shimmering, and her mouth almost smiling at the taste of the cum.

After the first sip, she drained the little that was remaining in the glass, continuing visibly to enjoy herself. I was still so surprised that she had done so little to climax that I didn't realize that I'd gotten another erection, another very solid erection. Amanda picked up on it as soon as her climax came to an end.

"That means that it's alright with you for me to be a little kinky, yes?"

"Are you kidding? Go for it. Sex is about pleasure and pleasuring. If it excites you, it makes me happy too," I told her. As the words were coming out of my mouth, thinking how corny they may have sounded.

"Well, I'm not Ms. Ponte. I don't have enormous breasts and I can't deep throat, but I do love semen. Yours is great tasting and you seem to enjoy my enjoyment of it."

"Hey, from what I can see -- and feel -- you have a great rack," I said with purposeful crassness.

"They ain't jugs, but they get the job done. In fact, I'm quite satisfied with 'em. You want to see 'em?" she kidded me back.

"You bet, Special Agent Goldon. Shall we take this party to the bedroom?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied.

The move to the bedroom only increased the excitement and fun we had that evening. It was especially exciting for me when I removed her bra. I'd become a little skewed in my thinking about breasts after spending time with Simone. When compared to almost any woman on the planet, Amanda had big boobs. Nice!

Amanda and I began dating seriously and the relationship grew to the point where it felt like we were meant to be together.

Less than a year later we got married in a small ceremony at city hall. There were Feds there, my old friends Manny and Consuela, some people from school and work, and some new friends we'd made together. It felt so right.

We are still happily married with the kids, the house, and Amanda doing some part-time work. We don't make a lot of money, but we're comfortable and we have each other. It's a relationship that started at one extreme of life's detours and wound up smack in the middle of its pleasures.

I never saw Simone again after the night she said goodbye.

However, I got a surprise from my bank a week or two after Amanda and I had our city hall ceremony. The bank sent an email asking me about a deposit made to my account. I knew nothing about it, but I figured it was some minor clerical error, perhaps a credit from a card for something I had returned. When I called them, they told me that $156,425 had been wired from a bank in the Cayman Islands. Expecting an amount in the twenty- or thirty-dollar range, I was obviously shocked. I asked from whom it was sent. They told me that the only information they had was an indication on the wire that said "Congratulations! 0.5"

Although, cryptic, I understood. It had to be from Simone. She always used to leave, in addition to the tip, an extra ½ of one percent of any money she paid for almost anything. If what Amanda had told me was true, that Simone had disappeared with $31,285,000, she sent me half of one percent. That money helped Amanda and me qualify for the loan on our house.

Sometimes things just have a way of working out.

Epilogue

by Amanda Goldon (a pseudonym)

"I'm taking the time for a number of things that weren't important yesterday," by The Beatles, "Fixing A Hole" on Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Bank album.

As you may have guessed I am a Fed. It's been a rough six months. The case we were working had its ups and downs, but just a week or two ago we wrapped it up and we caught most of the scumbags we, the joint task forces of the FBI, DHS, US Marshall Service, and several local law enforcement agencies nationwide, sought.

Now with our end of the case closed, I had begun to think of the things that weren't important yesterday, but today were of prime importance. Stress reduction, quiet time, and regular exercise and diet were all part of the plan.

I've been visiting a friend up in the mountains for the last week. It was a refreshing change from my work at The Bureau. The relaxation itinerary was to get away from the pressure of my routine and sit in a comfortable, safe, and beautiful place. (A lovely mountain setting, getting at least a dusting of new powder almost every night, qualifies as a beautiful place.) In general, while I'm there I enjoy writing fiction (often romantic, but combined with a bit -- or more -- of lasciviousness) usually based on people and events in my cases. Such is the situation with the story I've just finished. You see, Ed is a mostly fictional character. He's a fictional amalgam of one of the real people in the case I'd been working. In my writing I often take real characters involved in our investigations and give them a life outside of reality. In this story, I had a man involved in the case who was basically a good guy who got involved with the wrong people. I gave him a relationship with one of the women.

This woman, on the other hand, is much more real than Ed. She did have a fantastic figure. She could deep throat and, from what I'd heard and seen, she did love semen. She was sharp enough to be able to work both sides of the con and she got away with a great deal of money. How much is still and will probably forever be unknown.

The story came to me when one of the guys at the office was telling my partner at The Bureau and me about her earlier, even before the formal investigation, more than a year ago. I wrote down what he said, because we found out later that it was so true for this woman. We, my partner and I, had asked him about this character. I remember asking him, "So, what is she like, can we trust her? Is she reliable?"

He said, "She uses her looks to fool you into thinking she's a bimbo, but she's sharp, college educated, Vassar or Wellesley, I think, with an MBA from one of the Ivies. And she's had a lot of military style, black ops training. So, you know, she's just your basic sex kitten," he paused to consider his words. "Well, actually more like a sex lioness. She devours men, literally!"

I asked him what that meant. He stopped what he was doing on his computer. He turned to us and said, "This broad is really larger than life. You're gonna love her." He turned back to his work. My partner and I looked at each other. We both asked him what the hell that meant. He stopped again and said, "Deep throats, huge boobs. What's not to love?"

In most work places that would have been grounds for mandated sexual harassment training, but when you work with these kinds of people it was just part of the job. It wasn't a remark for the ages, but I know men enough to know that those are things few men would say "no" to in a woman. So, I thought about this along with some of the classical masters and other priceless artwork that was stolen in the case and came up with some names for my characters. The story has pretty clearly explained where the name Arty came from: RC.

Most of the other names just use the first letter of the first or last name of one of the persons involved in the crime. Yet, some of the other names are based on the story's key issues.

Ed's name is ED SPECTERE. That's an anagram for the title of this saga: DEEP SECRET.

JOA LUCENITA, if you rearrange the letters you get EJACULATION. And, AMANDA GOLDON is not my real name. In fact, it is an anagram too. It tells you what would really make me relax after this case. Rearrange the letters and you'll get what I'm looking for: LAND A GOOD MAN.

I hope you've enjoyed my little "get away from the office" and "write a story" story.

Two last items. First, SIMONE PONTE's name is an anagram of SEMEN POTION. Quite appropriate for her character.

And finally, I added one last thing to what that other agent said. That is, I added another two-word phrase to the two two-word descriptions my colleague said to my partner and me, "DEEP THROATS, HUGE BOOBS." If you look at the thirty chapter titles you should see the whole summation of the character, Simone.

Now, I've got a date with some friends down at the local watering hole. We'll see. My relaxation level has risen and my stress has mostly dissipated. I've got a good feeling about this. Maybe I'll get lucky.

Being in The Bureau doesn't allow a lot of personal time when you're working these long-term operations. Some (hot) relaxation might be just the thing. I don't have huge boobs, but what I've got doesn't disappoint. I can deep throat, but only to a point: Really long and wide guys do remind me of my limitations.

But watching a guy shoot that stuff is heaven. And, I've got just the place for it to go. After all, that semen potion of his has to go somewhere. And it's not like it's a deep secret that, to enjoy an ejaculation, you just gotta have taste. I'm just hoping that it'll help me to land a good man.