0 comments/ 6747 views/ 1 favorites The Licentious Life of Ms. Edmonds By: SapphoG Even at the age of fifty, Emilia had the looks of a Playboy playmate, and indeed she was, Miss May 1966 to be exact, but beneath the superficial façade of her California blond hair and Ocean Pacific blue eyes, was a woman who had the uncanny gift to remember the minutest details in her life and the lives of other. Since childhood, she's wanted to follow in the steps of her father, who was the great Editor in Chief and owner of the New York Tribune, Francis Edmonds. But before I relate all her exploits and stories she's broken over the years, that will sure to inspire women around the world to follow dreams and desires, I felt compelled that first I should show how she became the woman she is. Her personality was intoxicating. Her smile was genuine and could melt even the most cynical of New Yorkers. I had known her for almost five years before this, but our relationship never went past exchanging pleasantries in the elevator or passing in the halls of our workplace with a smile. Secretly, though, I had an almost school boy crush on her. I remember the first time I saw Emilia. It was in elementary school, eighty something and a classmate brought in one his father's old Playboy magazine, the playmate of the year edition, and you guessed it, Emilia was the playmate of the year. My heart, then as it does now, stopped when I saw her. Shortly after that episode, I began to almost methodically collect information on Miss Edmonds. When I found out that she was an editor and reporter, I made it my goal to attend the best journalistic school in the country and to learn and master the craft of writing, so that one day I could, maybe, work for this woman. That day came five years ago. Although I have had very little contact with her, it was a pleasure to share the same air. It always amazed me how she could reach such heights in the world of publishing and business with such a wonderful personality. I cannot recall a moment when she raised her voice or had a foul word issue forth from her lips. Now, that's no to say she didn't have a mean streak, but I just never saw it. We mortals who walked amongst the lower floors were never privy to activities of the gods and goddesses of the upper levels. I knew Emilia had an unbelievable life story, and as a writer I wanted to hear it and write it, but I could never work up the nerve to ask her to share it with me. I felt unworthy. Then one day while on a tour for my novel I was asked by a radio host what is it that I wanted to write next? I thought for a moment and replied, "I want to tell the story of Emilia Edmonds." "Well who is Emilia Edmonds?" He asked. When I related what I knew about her, he became intrigued, as did everyone else listening. In a sly way I was telling Miss Edmonds what my intentions were and it worked. A few days after my twenty-city book tour I was summoned to the office of Miss Emilia Edmonds located on the thirtieth floor of the magazines world headquarters building. As I walked through the, oak, door with nervous apprehension, I glanced across the room at her sitting behind her large desk. She removed her glasses from her face, stood and she smiled a smile that was brighter than the brightest billboard in Times Square. She gestured to a seat in front of her desk and when I sat she sat, leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "You know, you could've just approached me. You didn't have to go on national radio to get my attention." "I know." I said as I blushed. "I was, I don't know, a little bashful." "Why? I see you everyday. I talk to you everyday. Am I that much of a bitch that I intimidate the most talented writer on my staff?" She leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk and looked me in the eyes and asked, "You want to know my story?" "Yes, I would." "Come to my place tonight. Bring your notebook and recorder." She rocked back and forth in her seat and said, "I must warn you. I am not bashful when it comes to revealing my past. What you will learn may change your perception of me forever." "That sounds very ominous." Her smile broadened as she raised her soft looking hand up to her chin. "You know?" She said, "I've been considering writing something about my past for years." "Why haven't you done it?" She flagged me with her left hand and sighed, "I guess I've always thought that nothing could be learned from the things I did." She stood up and stretched. As I caught an eyeful of her smooth legs, a shiver shot through up my spine. "God." I though to myself, "this woman is just amazing looking." Despite the age difference between us, I felt a magnetic, sexual attraction to her. I doubt she felt the same. I stood and held out my hand. She shook it and nodded and said, "Do you know where I live?" "No, I'm afraid not." "The Dakota. I'll tell the doorman that you'll be coming tonight." I turned and as I walked toward the door with an almost a hop in my step, I stopped and turned, "Oh, what time shall I be there?" "How about six. The earlier the better." "You call it a night pretty early?" "No not at all. I just have so much to tell you." Little did I know that what I thought would be a couple of hours of talking, and asking her to reminisce, would turn out to be a ten year project of listening and documenting some of her most intimate details. That night I couldn't wait. Once the six o'clock hour hit I was right there reciting my name to the doorman. I expected to be greeted by butler and a hostess who dressed in an evening gown toting a wine glass in her left hand and a cigarette in her right. I was wrong. Miss Edmonds greeted me herself at the door and she wore nothing to the liking of an evening dress. She wore her hair out. It was waist length and looked like it was made of gold silk. She smiled when the door was fully opened and the sight of her half naked frame made my body tremble. Barely covering her toned body was an oversized knit sweater that hung off of her right shoulder and exposed her smooth skin in a seductive way that would make any man's heart stop. She was bare foot. My eyes discretely scanned her from head to toe. The sweater she wore stopped just at her hips and revealed everything. She exuded the sexuality of a woman who had experience and she projected the confidence of a woman whose beauty was her only asset. It was a turn on. I didn't know any fifty year olds who had as much of sexual confidence as she did. "Come in." She said as she waved me in. Her place was what I had expected. Immaculate like a team of housekeepers dusted every ten minutes. Like a curator was on her payroll. Of course she was a connoisseur of fine art, which showed on the walls. Renoir, Picasso, Gauguin and those were just artists I recognized. And that was just in the foyer. It was as if I walked into a mini Met. Greco Roman busts sat on ionic pillars. Silver tables with fine China on them sat just to the left of the gourmet kitchen. The windows, that framed the perfect view of Central park, were dressed in thick blue fabric that looked exported from the most exotic places in the world. "Am I early?" I asked. "Not at all. You're on time. Why do you ask?" She asked as she walked past me. A few paces ahead, within view, she raised her hands and ran them through her silk looking hair. The sweater inched up and exposed everything I had imagined. My heart felt like it skipped a beat. She turned and looked me and grinned. It was a playful seductive grin. I imagine she has used that many times on men like me. In the background soft trumpets sang an unidentifiable song that was not loud not soft, but just right, and like her, erotic. "Would you like something to drink?" "No thank you." She sat on her plush couch and crossed her legs like an Indian chief. For a woman at fifty, she was toned and flexible. My eyes caught a glimpse of everything frontal. As she settled the sweater drooped. Her left breast was exposed for a brief moment before she fixed the piece of clothing. I pretended not to look. I tried to maintain direct eye contact with her, but I couldn't help my eyes from drifting. She patted her right hand on the cushion next to her and said, "Sit sit." I hesitated. "I don't bit. What the fuck are you afraid of?" As I sat, I thought, that was the first time I heard her use profanity. I turned my head and grinned. She looked at me. "You're shocked." "About what?" "You thought I was a demure socialite widow who drank brandy, withering away in my apartment, reminiscing of days of old." "You're not?" "Fuck no. I travel. I love men." She leaned over and whispered, "Men love me. As a matter of fact my little boy toy just left." My heart sank. She was in a relationship. "How long have you been seeing this guy?" She leaned back and held her left hand over her chest as she laughed. "Seeing would denote that I am in some kind of relationship." When she leaned over again, her light vanillaish perfume rushed up my nostrils and tickled my senses. She said, "I'm not in a relationship. I just like being fucked by a young hung studs." She ran her hand over her face and moaned, "I just love sperm on my face. It keeps me young looking." I was taken aback. The image of my idol was tarnished. My heart was broken. It must have shown on my face because she tapped me on the shoulder and laughed, "I'm just fucking with you. It's Thursday. My boy toys don't come over until the weekend." "Do you like younger men?" She looked at me and ran her soft hand across my face and moved within inches of my lips. I tasted her minty breath as she asked, "Do you like older women?" "I like you. She smiled and leaned back. "Mmm. I'm so glade I still have sex appeal. You just made me a happy woman." "Do you ever think about getting re-married?" She tilted her head to the right and smirked. As she nodded her head slightly up and down, she said, "I doubt it, but you never know. I'm fifty. I ain't dead." "What is that supposed to mean?" "It means I still have feelings and desires. I still like being made love to and being in love." "That's what you have the boy toys for." She shook her head and laughed lightly. "I was joking about that. If you're going to be my biographer, you're going to have to pick up on my sarcasm." She stood and walked over to the fireplace and picked up a picture of her husband. Her tone turned serious as she ran her hand over the image. She said, "I truly loved that man. Sometimes, I used to think that he was the only person who knew me." She looked at me over her shoulder and asked, "What about you? Do you believe in true love?" I stared at her and wanted to tell her that the reason why I started working at the magazine was because of true love, for her. I wanted to tell her that I've been in love with since I was a teen. "Yes, I do believe in true love." "Are you married?" "No." "Got a girlfriend?" "No." She walked back over to the couch and propped both legs up on the cushion. She rested her head in her left hand and with her right she caressed my face. She asked, "Are you gay?" "No." "Are you a priest?' "No." A puzzled look came across her face, "Are you a virgin?" "No." "Wow. I'd never thought I meet a man in the city who's successful, handsome and somewhat normal." She leaned back, smiled and asked, "You are normal?" "Yes." God I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her as she stared me down with those unnatural blue eyes. My heart raced. My blood boiled. "Well it's gong to interesting getting to know you." She took a deep breath and said, "Well, where do you want to start?" I reached over for my notepad and took and sighed, "From the beginning." "The beginning?" She shook her head and said, "No that's too far back." "Nothing interesting there?" "No, it stuff there but it's un-publishable." "What do you mean?" "I was a bit wild in my youth." She held her hand up to her chin and hummed. "I was wild as an adult too. I don't know maybe this is a bad idea. You know-airing my dirt." "It can't be that bad." Without hesitation she said, "Oh yes it is, but I think I can clean it up a bit though." "What makes it bad?" "My past?" I nodded my head. She grinned. It was a grin that made me think that she conjured up some naughty memories. She said, "A lot of sex. I've pretty much only had one vice." "And that is what?" "Sex." She lowered her head and cut her eyes at me and flashed a devilish smile, "Hot, nasty sex. That's the reason I waited so long to get married. I enjoyed the company of a lot of men, and they enjoyed me." She stood and walked over to the bar and poured two catavinos glasses half full of Sherry. With both glasses in hand she walked back over to the couch and handed me one. "Here you go." "I'm not really a drinker." She took a sip and smiled at me, "You will be after hearing my story." She sat closer to me and ran her hand up and down my leg and said, "Shoot away kid." "Okay." I grabbed my pen and cracked open my first notebook and looked at her. "So how about we start with your first big story. The story that put you on the map." "That's a good Idea." She nodded her head and closed her eyes for a brief moment and then said, "Well that was back in 1972. I had just graduated from Stanford." She paused and frowned. "Is there something wrong?" I asked. "No I was just thinking..." She raised her hands and did a flagging motion. "Oh what the fuck. So my last week at Stanford was very erotic. All the guys I knew I would never see again in my life I," she sighed and shook her head, "I had sex with." "Well you don't have to incorporate those details in the story." I said. "No, I feel that my weaknesses have made me a stronger woman. I believe that my story would not be complete without incorporating those details." I shrug my shoulders and said, "Okay." "How can I say this? I explored my sexuality to the fullest when I was younger. Sex empowered me. To do what? Who the fuck knows. Anyway the guy that I remember the most was Tommy. My god, he was toned, hung like a horse and had the stamina of thorough bred in the Triple Crown. The day that my parents arrived, he and I," She lowered her head and ran her hands through her hair. "I haven't conjured up these fucking thoughts in years." She laughed and then took a deep breath, "Well, I was supposed to just say bye to good ole Tommy from Savanna, but a short goodbye turned into four hours of hot sex. "I remembered the windows in his small dorm were steamed up from our panting. The room wrecked of sweat and sex. I've made passionate love many times since then, but thinking back now this was by far the hottest love making session I had. It could've been that we were both young and horny. I really don't know. "I was bent over a folding chair, legs spread, while he fucked me in ass. I loved anal sex back then. Even after he exploded in me, he just kept going. When he pulled out of me, I could feel cum oozing down my inner thighs and as I turned, weak and drained, physically exhausted from the intense pleasure, he grabbed my hair and pulled me closer to him. Our lips locked and our tongues played together. He pushed me to the ground and ran his hands through my wet hair. I reached for his cock and shoved it in my mouth and began sucking. Apparently I wasn't moving fast enough because he began rocking my head over his cock. I looked up at him and saw his face twisted in pleasure. I loved seeing a man in the midst of pleasure. I think it was an ego thing. Knowing that I was the one giving him pleasure. "Well anyway, he moaned, "Emmy make me cum." I grabbed his ass cheeks and pushed myself deep into his thighs. A few moments later, my mouth was filled with his warm sperm. I stood and opened my mouth as he looked at me he wrapped his hand around my throat. He looked down at me and as his grip tightened around my neck, I reached up and grabbed his head and pulled him down to my face and kissed him with a mouth full of sperm. Warm sperm and saliva covered our faces each time I opened my mouth. When we stopped kissing, I swallowed and looked down at my tits. They glistened in sweat and cum. "When I looked at the clock on he wall, I realized I had an hour before my parents flight landed, so I began rushing to get cleaned up. I walked into the bathroom feeling cum dripping out my ass and cunt with every step. I leaned over the sink to splash water on my face, and Tommy slid behind me and slipped his cock into my pussy and began fucking me. I tried to lean up, but he pushed my face into the sink while pumping his cock in and out of me. He leaned over and bit my neck and ran his hand down my chest and pinched my nipples. He stepped back and pulled out of my pussy only to quickly enter my other hole. He pulled on my hair while ramming his cock between my cheeks. I glanced into the mirror above my face and saw how intense he looked. His grip loosened on my mane and with his right hand he grabbed my left tit. His left hand moved between my thighs. With three fingers he entered me and twisted and turned inside, in sync with his thrusting. It was rough, but I enjoyed it. A few seconds later of finger fucking me, my knees buckled. Between the anal and rubbing on my clit an orgasm struck me. I lowered my head and grabbed hold of both sides of the sink as I reached a climax. Tears rolled my face as I came. "I..." I started to say, but every time I opened my mouth, grunts and moans spewed out. He wrapped one arm around my neck and the other around my chest and pulled me straight. As he came he leaned over and bit me on the neck. It was painful, but the pleasure of feeling him inside me was much stronger. "I gotta go." I said to him. His bit me harder. He turned me around and grabbed a handful of hair, pulled my head back and kissed me on the neck. He then pushed me onto the toilet and spread my legs. He kneeled between them and ate me. I sighed because as much as I knew that I had to pick up my parents, his eating me out was much more enjoyable. "I gotta go." I said. He slurped and stood. I was face to face with his dripping cock. I grabbed it and looked at it all the while thinking how much I enjoyed it for the last year. I wanted to suck it and enjoy being sprayed with hot cum, but I really needed to go. I stood and walked into the other room, naked and wet. I reached over for my dress and blouse. "Will I ever see you again?" he asked. I looked at him as I stepped into the skirt and after I pulled the blouse over my body, I sighed, "I seriously doubt." As I walked towards the door, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and looked back at him and said, "But I will never forget you."" She paused and flashed a grin as she looked at the floor. She then turned to me and asked, "So, do you want to hear more?" I was turned on. What man wouldn't be after hearing that story? I must admit though, I was confused and a little dismayed. This woman was a hero of mine and I was truly interested in writing her biography, that I thought would be inspiring, but here she is telling me erotic stories. This is not exactly the stuff people tend to buy in the bookstores. It didn't make sense. "Is there a point why you're telling me this?" I said. "This is how I became me. This is my evolution." She leaned over and tapped me on the cheek and said, "I trust that you will use your editorial skills in the long run." She looked down at my not pad and noticed it was filled with writing and scribbled ideas. She said, "You write fast," before she stood and walked over to the bar to pour another glass of sherry. "So," she said as she sipped on her drink, "When I picked up my parents at the airport, my mother, who I think I get my attention to details from, immediately sensed what my extracurricular activities were. After a hug and kiss she looked at me through those piercing eyes of hers and said, "You better not be pregnant." The Licentious Life of Ms. Edmonds I looked back, frowned and shook my head. "We sent you to get training in business not in whoring." "You're always insinuating the worse." "I'm cynical darling." This was a years after being made Playmate of the year, so my parents didn't trust my decision-making. I didn't know how many people read that fucking magazine." She sighed and ran her hand through her hair in a gesture that made me think she was deeply reflecting on the past mistake. "Do you regret it? I mean posing for Playboy?" I asked. She looked over at me and sipped her drink. Her eyes focused across the room and before answering, she took a deep breath and glared at me, "No." She rocked her head from right to left and bit her bottom lip, "Well, maybe because I found out that my father was a subscriber. I felt kind of guilty, but not regretful if that makes any sense?" "For hurting him?" "No, he wasn't hurt. He was disappointed. In the article I discussed my very active sex life on the college campus. I also spoke of losing my virginity at 12 to a man that was 17 years older than me. My father thought I was a virgin." "17 years older than you?" She laughed. "Why is that funny?" She flagged me and sighed, "I'm laughing at how my father reacted. He was very protective of me, a little over protective. The month after the issue was published, he brought into the Playboy stock and had the photographer fired, and...I get to the rest later because another character will be introduced that is connected." "I think I would have done the same thing. What about this guy that was 17 years older than you?" "Oh, I'll get to him too. Well that night I took parents out to one of my favorite restaurants in down town San Fran. We caught up on thing etc. and finally my father offered me a job. It was something that I had waited for. I dreamt of running the New York Tribune all my life, and I was sure he was going to offer me a position as an editor. I was wrong. "Angel here is what I can offer you." He said. My heart raced with excitement. I inched to the edge of seat and waited. "I can give you a job as the Editor," Before he could finish, I squealed in excitement, "I'm going to be Editor and Chief of the Tribune?" He leaned back in his seat and frowned and laughed. Mother did the same. "Uh, no angel." He said. My excitement deflated. I slumped my shoulders and sat back and crossed my arms and looked at him, angry, like a kid who didn't get what she wanted for Christmas. My mother shook her head and leaned over to my father, "I told you she would think that." She pointed to her chest and said, "I know my child." "Would you let me finish?" He said to me. I nodded my head and pouted my lips. "Like I was saying, I can offer you a job as the Editor of one of the small weekly newspapers, or you can start as a beat reporter for the Tribune." He looked at me and laughed as I displayed a tantrum. I huffed and puffed for a few seconds and said, "I guess the Tribune reporter." "Emmy this is a great offer. It will allow you to build a resume and make contacts. As much as you want to be the Editor of the Tribune, you just don't have the experience. You need experience." A few seconds after rolling my eyes and slumping in my seat, horror struck me when I locked eyes with a guy I spent time with while at Berkley." "Wait a minute. I thought you were at Stanford?" I asked. "I was. I did my undergraduate at Columbia, my Masters in Journalism was from Berkley and my M.B.A. from Stanford." "I did not know that." I said as I wrote the information down on in my book. "I think the year was 1968. Yeah my first year in Berkley." "68' how old were you?" "I was 17, just turned 17." "Wait a minute. You went to Columbia at the age of," "12, I was a prodigy." "Columbia is this the place you met that man?" "Yeah. He was a student taking night classes, but I'll get to him because he's apart of the plot of the story. "So this guy at the restaurant brought back a flood of memories. For about five months I live at the Playboy mansion. These were the early days when everyone fucked everyone. I fucked movie stars, musicians, politicians; it was wild and exciting for a young girl like me. That is where I met Sam. He wasn't exactly a looker. I tended to go for guys who are physical beautiful. I was very superficial. "Now that I think about it, he was kind of ugly, but he had a really great personality and always had the best dope. He was a drug dealer. You can't have an orgy without the dope. You know? "When I found out that he took a liking to me, I moved in with him. Or rather he moved in with me after I left the mansion. I don't know how the fuck I managed to keep A's and fuck and do drugs at the same time. Well anyway. He liked sharing me with other men especially when we were both fucked up. I kind of took a liking to anal sex around that time," She looked over at me and grinned. I wasn't sure whether to believe her or not. "And being fucked by two men at the same time. Having two strong men pound the living day lights out of you while sandwiched between them, and while on some serious dope, or LSD was almost magical. "This one night I remembered went like this. We had some friends over. I never wore clothes while at my place. The first few guys I fucked sober. It was about five or six. Then this black guy came over who was so gorgeous. I think he was mixed with something because he didn't look all the way black. Through his pants I could tell he had a major hard on. As I walked around the place that night I would catch stares from him. I really didn't know why he hesitated in taking me. Everyone knew Sam and I had an open relationship and that I would fuck anything with a pulse. I think he was being a gentleman. "At one point he asked to use the restroom and I showed him where it was but I didn't shut the door. I starred at him. He pulled that thing out and the breath in me almost was knocked out. There, before my very eyes was eleven fucking inches of meat. Fucking god I had never seen that big of cock before in my young life. By the time I was 17 I had been with fifty or so guys. Fucked them hundreds of times, but I had never seen or been fucked by a guy with that much meat ever. "After he took a leak he turned to me and pulled off his shirt. He was strong. His arms like a body builder. His abs cut perfectly. I kneeled in front of him on the and licked that chocolate stick," She closed her eyes and ran her hands down her neck and moaned. She continued, "Like it was the last popsicle before going to death row. My god that thing was huge. So much so that by the time he came my jaws were locked. Sam walked in towards the end, as he came on my face. I stood and turned to Sam and wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him on the lips while the other guy's sperm was still hot and dripping down my chin. When Sam entered me, he spread my ass for the black guy. I grabbed Sam's neck and screamed when I felt that eleven inches in me. "Soon they both began pounding me at the same time. The rush of two cocks in me at once was something I had never felt before. It was amazing. "Sam pulled out of me and when my legs dropped to the floor, he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me into the bedroom. He threw me on the bed and straddled my face. When his cock was in my mouth, he began face fucking me. The more excited he became the harder he pounded. The other guy entered my cunt and fucked equally as hard. "When Sam came, he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my head into he thighs. He drained every ounce of cum down my throat and then pulled off of me and watched as the other guy fuck me like a two-bit whore. He came, but he didn't pull out. As my pussy filled with his Milano sperm, all I wondered was, I hope I remembered to take my birth control pills. "His cum filled me and as he pulled out, I could feel the warm liquid ooze out of my pussy and down the crack of my ass. I lay there motionless. My eyes wondered. Sam lit a joint took a drag and handed it to me. I took a puff and thought, how beautiful my kid would be if I got pregnant by this black guy. Just as I finished that thought, Sam pushed my legs up, threw them over his shoulders and stuck his cock my pussy. He moved a few times in and out, kissed me on the lips, pulled out, slid between my legs and ate me. His tongue explored my walls and made me twist and turn in the sheets. Tears of pleasure rolled down my face." "I...I loved sex. Sex was for me was like food. I'd rather have cock than a good steak. But I'm not exactly sure if I had a problem." I laughed and she looked at me and raised her eyebrows. "Yeah maybe I did." "Sam and I had did some pretty perverted shit during out time together, but he never ate me out right after another man busted a nut in me, but if he didn't mind slurping up another mans sperm out of my pussy, I didn't mind. "I grabbed his head with both hands and pushed him between my legs as I raised my hips. The sound of him eating and sucking me just added another element to the erotic moment. One thing I could say about the guy was he knew how to eat some pussy. He played with my clit with the tip of tongue. When I felt the touch my hips would automatically jolt up. He would do that over and over again. "The slurping got louder. His tongue explored deeper in me and when I came, I held his head tight and lifted my thighs up and screamed, "Fuck." He then lifted his head and moved towards me and when I wrapped my arms around his neck, we kissed and kissed until the emotions were high again and then we fucked and fucked the three of us until the next morning. "I remember my body being covered in cum and sweat. My pussy was sore and was gapped open from being fucked by that, wide, long black cock. My mouth was sore as well from having dick shoved in it. My ass was raw, but I loved every the fucking felling. I loved every fucking minute. Every fucking second of that fucking night, I loved. And that was just one of many other wild fucking nights I had." She fanned herself with her left hand and rested her head on the back of the couch all the while reaching between her legs. While her eyes were closed, I looked between her legs. She stuck her middle finger in her and panted. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. She was inches away from masturbating like I was not there. When she removed the hand that was between her thighs, she stuck the middle finger in her mouth and sucked it. She opened her eyes and glanced at me. Her eyes were glazed over like she was coming off of some drug high. Her breathing was heavy and her body trembled. It looked like she was in some kind of trance. Like she relived the moment she just related to me. When she reached over and touched my face with that hand, I felt the dampness on my skin and for a brief moment I shut my eyes and too was pulled into her erotic memory. In my mind I could see what she saw and for a second I felt what those men felt. "Well," She said as she caught her breath, "Anyway, I saw Sam in the restaurant and thought how embarrassing it would be to have him bring up that night, or any of the other nights in front of my parents. I hadn't seen him in three years. Not long after that fuck fest, he split. I never saw him again. Never heard from him again until that night. "He walked over to our table and as I stood he gave me a hug and a kiss, "Emmy. I thought that was you." I turned to my parents and gestured towards him, "Mom dad this is Sam. We had some classes together at Berkley." Sam looked at me odd and then held his hand out to my parents. "Pleasure." My father said. Nice to meet you." My mother responded. Sam looked back at me and said, "Nice to see you again. How long are you going to be in town?" "Only till the end of the week. I'm finally graduating. I'm headed into the real world." "Well, good luck." He said as he stepped away. As I sat down, my mother said, "He seemed like a nice young man." I raised my eyebrows and huffed, "Yeah." "So have you decided where you're going to live?" Mother asked me. "Um, with you guys." "Your old room is now my study." She said. "You live in a ten bedroom townhouse." My father looked at my mother and laughed, "As a graduation present we got a place of your own." I leaned forward and my heart pounded in my chest. "Where?" "We managed to get a place in the Dakota." My father said. I squealed with excitement. "And it's on the same floor as Jazel." He said. I've always been in love with those apartments, and I had always pestered them about getting me a place here. I bounced up and down in my seat like a giddy little schoolgirl. This made up for me being overlooked as an editor. I glanced past my mother's right shoulder and saw Sam headed to the restroom. I leaned over and gave my father a kiss on the cheek and my mother a kiss on the forehead then excused myself and waited in the hallway outside the men's restroom. When Sam came out, I punched him in the shoulder and whispered rather forcefully, "Where the fuck have you been?" "What are you talking about?" "I give you six fucking months of my life. I do some of the most defiled things sexually I have ever done. I swallowed your fucking cum. Hell, I swallowed the fucking cum of all you fucking friends as well, and then you just up and disappear one day." I pushed him against the wall and slap him in the face. "You got some fucking explaining to do motherfucker." He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He then leaned forward and looked at me. "Emmy," he said, "I needed to get away from you." "Oh, so I'm the one to fucking blame? I seem to recall that you were the one that wanted me to fuck your suppliers for a discount. You were the one that told me how sexy it would be to fuck other men while you watched." "I didn't mean it that way." "Well what the fuck did you mean motherfucker?" "I needed to," he rubbed his face, "I needed to get out of the city. I turned my life around. I stop doing drugs. I have a wonderful wife now with three beautiful step kids." "You married a bitch with kids?" "She's not a bitch. If I would have stayed with you, I would probable be dead or in jail." I raised my arms in the air and asked, "Again, why the fuck am I to blame?" "All you wanted to do was fuck and get high. I know I am partially to blame. If I would have gone to jail you would have went on with your life. You had the family backing you. You had the trust fund. I didn't." I thought for a second and shrugged my shoulders, "I see where you're coming from. You're still a fuck face though. You could have fucking called me and let me know you were okay." "Yeah I guess you're right." I moved closer to him and grabbed his crotch with my right hand, "You want to meet up at seedy hotel and fuck for old times sake?" "I'm married Emmy." "Does she fuck you like I used to?" He looked at me and grinned. He said, "No." "I often masturbate to thoughts of us." I lifted my short skirt and showed him my trimmed bush. I grabbed his hand and put it between my legs. "Remember how that felt?" I stepped back and straightened my skirt and smiled. "I'm graduating in three days. If you want one last shot of pussy meet me under the home team bleachers at 2:30. I give the address at 3. That'll give us enough time." "I'm happy, Emmy." "Shure you are. See ya then fuck face." Having my parents with me for three days was annoying. I loved them, deeply, but they really fucked up my farewell-fucking timetable. I had a list of forty guys that I knew would still be in town before graduation and I had planned on fucking them all. I only got up to fifteen. I still had, the Italian stallion, Anthony that I could have fucked, being that he worked at a bakery down the street. I wanted to save him for last because he was the most passionate of the cocks I had in my repertoire. He barley spoke English. I pretended I didn't speak Italian, which made it all the more fun, but I couldn't shake my parents. Not even for an hour, so I ended up masturbating for four days straight. Lucky for me I had a plethora of erotic memories to help, but fingers were nothing compared to a good hard cock. "Excitement was in the air the day of commencement, but for fucks sake I normally celebrated by fucking, and it was three days since I had cock. I felt myself more and more agitated as the minutes went by. I tried masturbating, but three days of that shit did nothing but aggravate the situation more. I needed cock. I wanted to fuck. I stood under the bleacher waiting for Sam and as time inched by, I came to the realization that he wasn't going to show. Just as I was heading to the stage, someone grabbed me. I turned and it was Sam. He smiled as he held me in his arms. I looked at my watch and said, "You got five minutes motherfucker. You better make it good." I lifted my gown and pulled down my panties. "When did you start wearing underwear?" "My parents are staying with me." We rushed into a bathroom next to the edge of the field. As he entered me, I could hear over the loud speaker the President of the University calling for everyone to take his or her seats. I wrapped my legs around his waist and as he pumped me, the thud of my body hitting against the aluminum stall resonated in the small restroom. A wide grin came across my face as the stress released from body. A shiver went up and down my spine as his cock slid in and out of me. He began grunting, which made me aware he was about to cum, but I came first. I scratched his neck as I reached my orgasm. My mouth opened as I softly moaned. He grabbed my hair tight and bit my neck. The pounding of my body against the stall mixed with the marching band walking onto the field. After I came, I dropped to my knees and quickly grabbed his cock and stuck it in my mouth. He released and filled my mouth with sperm. I stood and swallowed as I wiped my mouth. I slipped my robe over my body and stepped out the door, held up both my middle fingers to him and said, "Have a nice life fuck face." The President of the University stood in the hot sun and after giving a short introductory speech he turned and announced me. "Next giving the speech to the graduating class of 1972 is Miss Emilia Edmonds..." She smiled at me and held her face in her hands. "What's wrong?" I asked. "I've never told anyone this." She said as she laughed. She held her head back and rested her hands over her heart and yelled, "My god. I was so young." I looked at my watch and said, "It's getting late. When would you like to continue?" "Tomorrow." "Are you sure?" "Yes, yes because I'm going to get to the real stories." "So, no more sexual exploits?" She held her head down and laughed again, "No, there is lot more sex. It's just that it will be in context." "What do you mean?" "Once I was back in New York, it seemed my libido slowed down. I don't know what it was but I was lot less interested in fucking and more focused on my career, but I still did a lot of fucking." She smiled. "Is that when you met your husband?" She tapped me on the knee and shook her head, "Oh Christ no. There were a lot more men before I ever met Louis." She paused and ran her hands through her hair, "A whole lot more." "Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow." "Thank you." "Why are you thanking me?" "For being a good listener." "Same time tomorrow?" "Sounds wonderful."