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How I Met My Wife

By: Dirty Old Man



The dingy little beachfront bar darkened suddenly as the light from the open door was suddenly blocked. Every eye in the place turned instinctively towards the door, then stayed in awe of the man shaped shadow filling the doorway. The newcomer stood in the door for a few moments to let his eyes adjust before tipping his head clear of the lintel to come inside. He made his way to the bar and settled onto the end stool. A casual wave at the bartender produced a mug of draft beer that slid to a stop in front of the big man in the best movie western tradition.

"How much is my tab, Clancy?" The big man's voice rumbled effortlessly over the background conversation.

"Take me a while to figure the interest, O'Malley, what with you being gone these last six months. Would ye be planning on paying it, for a change?"

"Yeah, I'm going to pay it just as soon as you put a round for the house on it."

"I'll be seein' the color of yer money before I do that, O'Malley. I'm poor enough from supporting yer own capacity, without giving away drinks on yer worthless promises."

"Ah, Clancy, Ye wound me heart." O'Malley's imitation of Clancy's brogue was overdone, but the bill he waved had enough zeros on it to sooth any insult Clancy may have felt. "I won the big one, Clancy, and I'm celebrating with all my old friends now that I'm back home where I belong."

The two waitresses started taking orders, and Clancy started pouring from the top shelf as soon as the first orders for free drinks came in. Big Butch O'Malley just sat at the bar, joking and laughing with all of his new 'Old Friends' who came up to thank him. One lonely figure in a booth at the back of the bar caught his eye. 

A lanky blonde man sat alone, nursing what appeared to be his third pitcher of beer, ignoring all of the fuss created by the free drinks. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but the lonely looking man looked familiar. Butch rose and gently separated himself from the crowd and went to the back of the bar.

"Byron! What's with the long face? Cheer up, man, and join in the celebration."

The lonely man looked up at Butch with bloodshot eyes. 

"I can't find her, Butch. What am I gonna do? I can't live without her and I can't find her."

Butch wedged his massive frame into the booth across from Byron and waved a waitress over.

"I think Byron's had enough beer, Kaitlin. Bring him one of Clancy's famous hoagies and a pot of coffee -- on me of course."

As soon as Kaitlin left, Butch turned to Byron and regarded the only real 'Old Friend' in the bar. The drunken and bedraggled man sitting across from him was a stark change from the dapper systems analyst and sometime surfer dude he had last seen nearly a year ago. 

Byron had mysteriously dropped out of Butch's circle of drinking buddies a couple of months before he left for the competition. Nobody had thought much about it as Byron often got obsessed with a programming problem and turn into a recluse for several weeks at a time. Usually he'd be out partying hard to celebrate solving whatever problem had obsessed him after a couple of weeks. 

Butch hadn't thought much about Byron at the time, because he was busy training and preparing for the competition. Byron's current condition made him realize that this time it wasn't some programming problem his analytical friend was wrestling with. 

Half a pot of coffee and a thick sandwich later, Byron started making a little more sense.

"Butch, I've met a girl -- no, a woman. Whatever, -- I met her and then lost her. I've got to find her again. She's the perfect woman and I've got to find her so I can convince her to marry me."

" Have you thought about hiring a detective?"

"I did hire a detective. I've spent a whole year trying to find her based on what he found out before I couldn't afford his rates anymore."

"OK, so this detective can't find her. What's this woman look like? What's her name? Just what is it that makes her so hard to find?"

"You've hit the nail on the head, Butch. The big problem is that I don't know her name, or even what she looks like. It's hopeless, Butch. I came in here today to get drunk because it's been one full year since I met her, and I don't want to be sober for my first anniversary without her."

"Byron, old friend, I have no idea what you are talking about. Start from the beginning for me and tell me everything."

"I don't see what good it will do, but I guess it can't hurt any worse than sitting here alone. Get Kaitlin to bring another pot of coffee while I go offload a pitcher of beer or two."

Byron had been gone for less than a minute, when Butch noticed a petite, and very sexy, young lady come in and sit at the bar. Clancy brought her a wine cooler, which she sipped as she looked around the bar. Butch watched her brush off a couple of over eager suitors before she caught Kaitlin by the arm and asked her a question.

Kaitlin thought for a few seconds, looked over at the booth where Butch was sitting, and whispered something to the woman. The woman picked up her wine cooler and swayed through the maze of tables to the booth next to where Butch sat. Byron returned at the same time, and they slid into their seats at the same time, sitting back to back in adjacent booths.

Butch turned his attention back to Byron's problem and put his interest in the woman out of his mind. Butch noted the strange look Kaitlin gave Byron when she delivered the coffee, but soon forgot about it when Byron began his story.

"I guess it's just as much fate that you're making me tell this story today, because it is a story about Kismet. That's the only thing even close to logical I can think of to explain how this whole thing is possible. Not that there's anything logical or rational about believing in predestination or fate. Anyway, it was one year ago today...

***

It had been a beautiful day, and a fine evening. I had spent all afternoon, and most of the evening, girl-watching in the amusement park and along the pier. Now, it looked like the only girl watching I'd be doing for the rest of the night was my collection of adult videos.

Storm clouds were visible on the horizon, and moving in fast. A strong wind had risen and was starting to swirl and gust, presaging the fury of the storm to come. It was doing nice things to women's skirts, lifting the short ones for a teasing view of scanty panties and pressing the long ones against lush feminine bodies to outline hidden delights. 

The high clouds ahead of the storm were already blotting out the stars. The clouds quickly thickened enough to obscure a full moon -- if there had been one. I just hoped I'd make it home before I drowned in the rain. The odds didn't look good for getting home dry. 

I was about halfway down the pier, working my way through the crowd, when the lights went out. Not just the lights on the pier, but every light within sight. The wind must have caused a massive power failure that blacked out the whole area. 

With no moon or stars, the sudden darkness was like being inside a black cat deep in a coal mine. 

The crowd went silent for about three heartbeats, and then groaned in unison. For a brief moment there was a spontaneous harmony that a choir director would kill to be able to produce on demand. Then everything dissolved into cacophony, with everybody asking what happened, people screaming and shouting, and the wind howling like the darkness was it's cue to go mad. 

The crowd hung on the edge of panic for no more than a minute, and then just as suddenly calmed down for some reason. The screaming and shouting turned to squeals and laughter as the mood turned from borderline panic to one of shared adventure.

I started to work my way to the railing of the pier as best as I could. I discovered that I could still do some girl watching as I moved through the crowd. I actually had more fun than earlier, because I was forced to use the Braille method. 

I was pleasantly surprised to find that several women also used the Braille method to check me out. It didn't feel like big hairy hands anyway. If any guys groped me, they had small soft hands.

The darkness was so complete that only one slap landed anywhere near my face. The one slap that landed is what led to a fateful meeting. It knocked me over the railing! 

It actually wasn't that hard a slap, just well placed. Stepping back from the impact, I tripped over the chain guarding an access ladder to the beach, which sent me tumbling to the sand below. I landed flat on my back in soft sand. Except for having the wind knocked out of me, I was fine. 

Naked, but fine. 

The chain I tripped over had snagged on my swimsuit and ripped it off me as I fell.

I got up, muttering every curse I had ever heard and making up a few new ones. I brushed the sand off and tried to figure out how to get home without making a detour to jail. Suddenly, I heard a shriek above me. I instinctively looked towards the sound.

The next thing I knew, I found myself back on the sand, pinned by a body. I quickly determined it was a petite female body. An easy determination, since she landed in the perfect position for a sixty-nine.

Apparently, the chain I tripped over was collecting shorts that evening. At least I assumed that's where hers were. They certainly weren't covering her cunt! The only thing covering her cunt was my mouth. Or was that the other way around? 

A convenient hummock of sand forced my face into her crotch. I couldn't help but breathe in an intoxicating scent from the delectable covering my mouth. When I gasped for breath, I could inhale only air filled with her luscious scent. 

Now, up to this point in my life, I was not an avid practitioner of cunnilingus. I'd tried it a few times, but always found the smell to be a turn-off. Every cunt I'd had my nose near reminded me of juice drained from a can of tuna. Like all 'Macho Studs,' I'd occasionally joked about girls 'making my tongue hard.' I'd always considered that just a cliché; useful verbal shorthand for expressing how good-looking a girl was. 

Imagine my surprise, when my tongue literally got hard! 

It not only got hard; it escaped from the confines of my mouth to explore the smoothly trimmed cunt covering my face. I couldn't believe what was happening! My tongue had developed a mind of its own! It eagerly began exploring and tasting the delectable treat that was smothering me. 

My tongue started with the crease between her labia and her thighs. It collected and savored the salty sweat from a day's worth of sun and exercise. While tasty, it wasn't the source of her intoxicating scent. Her soft and silky pubic hair was tasty as well, but it wasn't the source of the indescribable, irresistible scent either. 

My tongue continued the search by tracing the contours of her pussy until they began to swell with arousal. The fresh moisture drawn to the cleft between her outer lips led my tongue to gently explore the folds between inner and outer labia. It tasted, touched and memorized each delicious frill and wrinkle it found. Here, at last, my tongue found the cause of the scent that was driving me insane. Alas, unable to find the source of the delicious moisture, my tongue lapped up every drop it could find, searching ever deeper. Her flavor lived up to the promise of her scent. 

When the girl began to squirm and wiggle, my hands proved to be in cahoots with my tongue. They wrapped themselves around the girl's firm buttocks and pulled her tightly against my exploring tongue. 

My tongue explored the texture and flavor of her inner lips. Stroking and massaging its way between them, my tongue continued to search for the source of the delicious fluids. It found more and more of her ambrosial fluids. Diving at last into a tight passage, it found a bountiful supply of what it sought.

I experienced a strange sensation, a kind of surrealistic tactile hallucination, when my tongue made its first exploratory penetration. It felt for a moment as if my tongue had gone completely through her to lick my own cock. When my tongue withdrew, the tongue on my cock withdrew as well, enhancing the illusion of licking myself through her body. 

We teased and played like that for a few moments. Then, her warm mouth engulfed my stiff cock, breaking the illusion. She started gently sucking and nursing in concert with my tongue's explorations. 

When my tongue withdrew completely for a short rest, she immediately tried to suck my brains out through my cock. She succeeded in her efforts to the point where I gave up rationalizing and making excuses. I surrendered to the moment and tried to suck her pussy dry. I even started squeezing her butt trying to get more out of her.

The taste of this girl's pussy was unlike anything I had ever encountered. The smell was better than her flavor. The texture of her skin was smoother than the finest silk money can buy and her pussy had more interesting folds and wrinkle to explore and taste than there are words to describe them in all the languages of the world. I'd always thought the ancient Greeks dreamed up the word ambrosia to describe something that was beyond description, but they had to be talking about the juice I was sucking from her pussy. I was absolutely convinced that there was no possible way I would ever taste anything better than what her pussy was producing.

I was wrong; there was something much better as I would soon discover.

Her mouth was either very experienced, or she was the greatest of natural talents. Whichever it was, she seemed to have established a direct connection to my tongue. The better the sensations she created in my crotch, the more I strove to duplicate them in hers.

We communicated using the blood supply to my brain. When I did something nice with my tongue, the suction on my cock increased, reducing the blood available for thinking. When my tongue strayed, the suction decreased and the blood supply increased enough to allow reconsideration of my actions. With the few blood cells not occupied with engorging my cock, I managed to experiment with different techniques. 

She did not seem to be too fond of broad-tongued, doggy-style lapping if I continued for more than a stroke or two. Sucking and nibbling gently on her lips however, got reviews so good I nearly passed out from low blood pressure. 

We fell into a sort of arrhythmic rhythm to our mutual explorations, establishing a non-verbal communication of what felt merely good, and what felt great. I was apparently more than a mouthful for her, because she wrapped both of her soft, gentle, hands around the portion of my cock not in her mouth. 

As my orgasm approached, I concentrated my attentions on her clitoris, eagerly exploring the texture and resilience of this delightful little organ. I surrounded her clit with my lips, sucking and licking enthusiastically. Her reaction let me know in no uncertain terms that she enjoyed what I was doing. I continued to suckle and lick at her clit until we exploded in simultaneous fireworks. 

As delectable and irresistible as her taste and smell had been before, what was produced by her climax was instantly addictive. I licked and sucked and probed the source of this wondrous ambrosia. I did everything but stuff my entire head inside her and wiggle my ears to encourage and prolong her climax. My entire universe and reason for existing narrowed to a need to bathe in her flowing juices. My tongue, lips, nose, cheeks, ears-- every part of me exposed to her orgasmic juices-- became an erogenous zone. 

Every part of my face, even my hair, seemed to have a separate orgasm. Every little separate orgasm merged into a single massive climax unlike anything I had ever even imagined was possible.

My pleasure center overloaded and my brain shut down. My last conscious sensation was her ambrosia bathing my face as she ground her cunt into me.

***

I awoke to a driving rain trying to pound my naked body into the sand alongside the pier and overlapping peals of thunder shaking me to the bone. There was no sign of the girl. The near continuous lightning flashes provided enough light to see that I was alone on the beach. I scrambled for cover beneath the pier.

Wonder of wonders! As I scrambled for cover, I found my swimsuit lying in the sand behind the ladder. I also found a pair of bikini bottoms tangled with them. Miraculously, my swimsuit was wearable. There was only a small snag in the material of one leg opening. I donned my swimsuit and headed for home. I brought along the torn bikini bottoms without thinking.

***

The next morning, I awoke to a fine and sunny day. The previous night seemed like a dream. Well actually, it seemed like just the first of several dreams. There was a substantial wet spot on my sheets from ”nocturnal emissions." Strangely, the only thing I could remember about the night's wet dreams was the taste of her orgasmic juices. 

I wrote the whole thing off as an aberrant dream and swore off anchovies on my pizzas. That is, until I noticed the torn bikini bottoms under my pillow.

In a fit of irrational anger, I threw the bikini bottoms in the trash. 

***

Two weeks later, I had changed my sheets twenty-eight times and her bikini bottoms had taken up permanent residence under my pillow. I was totally obsessed with a girl I had no hope of ever finding. The only clues to her identity I had were the memory of how she tasted and the torn bikini bottoms. 

Six weeks later, and six thousand dollars poorer, I had forty-four possibilities to check out. The private detective I had hired couldn't thin out the crowd any more than that. At least he wouldn't unless I kept up with his thousand dollars a week fee.

All forty-four girls had bought a new swimsuit the day after the storm. All wore the same size as the bottoms I had found. All had been at the amusement park or on the pier when the power went out. That was all the information that six thousand dollars bought me. 

The rest would be up to me. All I had to do was meet each girl and convince her to let me suck on her cunt until she came in my mouth. That was the only way I could think of to find the one girl who produced that wonderful ambrosia I now craved. I knew that one of those forty-four girls was the woman meant for me to marry. 

I just had to figure out which one she was.

***

"Byron, that has got to be the most incredible crock of shit I've ever heard. You make it sound like there are no other women on the planet except for this fever dream of yours from getting your gourd rattled falling off the pier."

"Somehow that reaction doesn't surprise me, Butch. Not coming from you, you're about as romantic as a mud brick.

"Still, I did meet, and eventually eat, every one of those forty-four women. Each and every one of them smelled and tasted like day-old tuna drippings. Worse yet, none of them could get me hard no matter how hard they tried. Whether it's a fever dream from a concussion, or this one woman is whom I'm meant for and no other; I can't say on any rational basis. I just know that I've got to find her, and there's no way it can be done."

The thump of a thick manila envelope landing on the table cut Butch's response short. It was several seconds before either of them thought to look around to see where they had come from. There was no one near their booth. Even the woman who had taken the booth behind Byron was no where to be seen.

Byron just stared at the manila envelope, which had his name written in a feminine hand in big letters on it. He slowly reached for it with shaking hands and fumbled it open.

Butch stare in awe at the stack of one hundred-dollar bills that slid out of the envelope as Byron tipped its contents onto the table. A thick letter was the last thing to slide out onto the tabletop. Butch picked it up and offered it to a shell-shocked Byron.


How I Met My Wife #01



#1: Eric





How I Met My Wife #02



#02: Jake

If you are part of my generation, you'll remember the despicable newspaper advice columnist Ann Landers. Occasionally, she would publish a letter from a reader, relating an interesting story of how he met his wife. 

Over the years, I've been collecting stories of how men met their wives, or how wives met their husbands. These are stories that Ann never would have published. Here's the story of how Jake met Erin. Of course, the names and details have been fictionalized for privacy. 

If you have an interesting story, please contact me using the feedback form. Remember to provide your email address so I can get back to you.

*

A few weeks before the start of my junior year of college, I learned that my friend Mark, who I was going to room with, was not going to be returning to school. His parents had some sort of financial problem, so he was going to transfer to a local school and live at home. This was bad news for him, but for me too. When you don't have a roommate, the school assigns you one, most likely somebody that nobody else wants. You might be lucky, but the odds are against you.

When I showed up at school on move-in day, I learned the bad news. When I met my new roommate Sandy, I tried to be polite, introduce myself, shake hands, and smile, but he wasn't interested. Over the next weeks, it went downhill from there.

I'm the sort of person who can always think of something nice to say about anybody. I look for the good qualities in people, and there's always some good in everybody. Everybody, that is, except Sandy. As best I can tell, he has no redeeming qualities.

Let's start with the obvious—he's unkempt, dirty, and ugly. He wears a Hitler mustache and has long greasy hair that is never cut, hardly ever washed, and never combed. He shaves when he feels like it, which isn't often, and showers even less. His clothes have food stains and rips and are washed about as often as he showers. He looks like he smells bad, but he doesn't really-- maybe he does if you're up close, but I have no intention of getting up close.

It's not polite to judge a person by his appearance, so let's talk about his "inner qualities." Those are even worse. He's rude, unfriendly, and obnoxious, and doesn't talk much except to grunt. He's lazy and manages to stay in school only because he cheats on exams. He goes to bed late, sleeps late, and spends his days with porn and TV. 

Now here's the best part. He masturbates loudly when I'm trying to sleep. I don't want you to think I'm a prude. I've been known to give myself a good wank now and then (more "now" than "then," to tell you the truth), but I try to be discreet. I do it when I'm alone in the room or in the shower, or if I really need to do it when my roommate is sleeping, I'm as quiet as I can be. Not Sandy. He wakes me in the night, rummaging around in his desk looking for lotion, followed by loud grunting that lasts forever. When he's done, he goes back to his desk looking for a towel to clean up the mess. Sometimes he even does it when I still have my light on, and I have to cover my eyes to keep from seeing this filthy thing stroking himself. 

My one consolation is that I know he has a really small cock. He deserves it.

After a few weeks of this, I couldn't take it any more. I yelled at him and told him to stop waking me up and to go jerk off in the shower, but he just looked at me and didn't respond and nothing changed. I guess he can't jerk off in the shower because he never takes showers.

I didn't think it could get any worse than that, but I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong. About a month into the semester, Sandy met Marilyn.

If there is any male in the world who would be unattractive to women, it would be Sandy. But I guess it's true that there's somebody for everybody, because Sandy and Marilyn found each other. She's every bit as unkempt, dirty, and ugly as him, but at least she doesn't grunt. She yells.

Almost immediately after they met, Sandy and Marilyn were in love and in heat. Marilyn was in our room every night, and now, instead of listening to Sandy jerking off, I had to listen to the two of them screwing, with him grunting and her moaning and yelling, and the bed straining. And, in case you're wondering, sometimes they left the light on. It was a sight not to be believed, with her riding on top of him yelling about how good it felt, her dirty zit-covered boobs flopping around, or with him on top of her, trying to find the hole. The floor was littered with used condoms and condom wrappers and Kleenex, which, of course, they did not bother to throw away.

Even worse than when they were screwing was when they weren't. They were madly in love and they played their roles Hollywood-style, calling each other "darling" and "honey" and "lover" and batting their eyelashes at each other and holding hands and patting each other's butts and telling each other, over and over again, "I love you sweetheart." With me, Sandy wouldn't talk at all, but he would talk to Marilyn, but only to say some stupid cliché that he thought was romantic. She would respond with something equally inane. They would have hour-long conversations talking about nothing but how much they loved each other. It was truly nauseating.

This went on for weeks and finally I lost it. I screamed at them and threw their bottle of "massage oil" across the room, followed by their box of condoms, and told them to get the hell out of my sight and never come back. I ended the tirade with "Why don't you do this in her room instead of mine?" and I slammed the door on my way out.

When I came back to the room, I got a pleasant surprise. They weren't there! I noticed that the massage oil and the condom box were gone too. The used condoms, though, were still on the floor.

----------

Suddenly, life was a lot better. Without Sandy, I could relax in my room, invite friends to visit, and sleep through the night. Maybe I could even clean the place. I was enjoying my solitude. I didn't see, hear, or even think about Sandy or Marilyn. It was heaven.

It didn't last long. A couple of days later, I was in the dining hall at breakfast, concentrating on my pancakes, when I heard a girl's voice. "Hi," she said.

I looked up and there was a tiny girl, not even 5 feet tall, with short auburn hair and a pixie nose covered with freckles, wearing an emerald green sweater and rolled up jeans. She was wearing huge glasses that covered much of her face and magnified her hazel eyes. I didn't think I knew her, but she reminded me or someone or something-- I didn't know what. 

"I'm Erin," she said. 

That was it-- Irish. That's what she reminded me of -- a leprechaun. A leprechaun with big glasses. I told her my name and she went on, "You're Sandy's roommate, aren't you?"

My heart sank. The last thing in the world that I wanted people to say about me was that I was Sandy's roommate, but it was true so I reluctantly agreed. This couldn't be good news. Every time I heard the name "Sandy," bad news was sure to follow.

"I'm Marilyn's roommate. We live on the third floor," she said.

Oh shit. She was going to send the loving couple back to me and probably rip me a new one for sending them to her. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I looked at her and thought some more. She seemed friendly enough. She was smiling, a little nervous, not angry. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, so I invited her to sit down. Her tray had fruit salad and yogurt and a class of milk. Mine had the remains of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and two orange juices.

She started talking, "I know that you had them in your room for weeks so maybe you've got some ideas on how to handle them. I could really use some suggestions." Then she went into a high-speed monologue about all the terrible things they'd done to her, in front of her, and near her-- while she was sleeping, while she was studying, and on and on. 

"You know, I grew up with three brothers so I'm used to some dirt and some rudeness and sex and wild stuff, but nothing like this," she started. Her eyes grew wide underneath those big glasses. "Sandy and Marilyn are like, doing it --you know what I mean? doing it? —two or three times a day. Right there in the room when I'm there. I come back from class and they're doing it. I come back from dinner and they're doing it. In the middle of the night, they're doing it. And Marilyn is always screaming the f-word, you know, like 'f me baby' and 'f me harder' and 'I really need a good f.' I'm no prude, you know. When you've got three brothers, you get used to hearing the f word, but still..." She went on and on, her hands gesticulating and her voice getting more and more excited. 

Then she slowed a bit and, still talking, considered the other side, "I suppose they have a right to do it. You know, it is her room too. Maybe it shouldn't bother me so much. You know, sex is a natural thing and everybody does it and it's nice that they enjoy it so much. They sure do enjoy it, don't they? They probably have never had a girlfriend or boyfriend before, have they? So I'm glad they found each other. Really I am. I just wish..." 

She didn't stop there. She told me about how noisy they were, how filthy they were, and how annoying they were with their fake romance. Then she considered the fake romance from their point of view, how they didn't know what romance was like except from the movies and they had to learn sometime. She talked non-stop, hardly taking a breath, like she was pouring out her soul to the one person in the world who would understand. That was me, alright, the one person in the world who truly understood. 

She talked continuously like this for maybe 15 minutes. It was a long time without a break, with me saying little except "I know," "Yes", "They did that to me too," and other minor agreements whenever I could get a word into her stream of consciousness. I nodded and looked concerned a lot. Finally, she ran out of breath and checked the clock. As abruptly as she arrived, she gulped down the milk, said goodbye, and left, off to class, with a big smile and a wave. She'd hadn't eaten the fruit or yogurt. 

As she was talking, I couldn't help but notice how good-natured she was, considering the enormity of her problem. She wasn't angry, mean, or out for revenge, like I would have been. Let me tell you -- if somebody had done to me what I'd done to her, I wouldn't have been polite about it. On the contrary, she was friendly and cheerful and seemed to want nothing but somebody to talk to -- somebody to commiserate with. She seemed like a good kid. 

I didn't run into Erin very often. Maybe just once or twice a week. But whenever I did, I stopped to talk or sat down next to her in the dining hall. She was always alone. It's nice to be around cheerful people, and she always had one or two new Sandy and Marilyn stories to tell, or sometimes she just wanted to talk about other things. Sometimes I added my own stories, but most times she was talking so fast and steadily that it was easier (and more fun) to listen to hers, always told in the most colorful detail. We'd usually end up laughing.

Her three brothers were a common topic also, and it was obvious that she adored them. She had one brother two years older who was studying to be a teacher. The other two are twins, a little younger than her, and they are the stars of their high school wrestling team and very muscular. She loved to recount the raucous boy-behavior that surrounded her when she was growing up-- pushing and shoving, jumping on people's beds in the middle of the night, fighting over the toilet and the shower, turning water hoses on each other. To tell you the truth, it sounded a lot like things my brother and I did, though I didn't have much opportunity to tell her that.

----------------------------------

It was a Saturday evening and I had just gotten into bed when I heard a noise at the door. I thought somebody had just accidentally bumped into the door so I ignored it, but then I heard a girl calling my name. I went to the door and opened it.

There was Erin in her night clothes, clutching a huge pink furry pillow to her chest. I almost didn't recognize her for a moment because she was so unlike her normal cheerful self, but the glasses were unmistakable. She was looking down to the floor, tense, angry, frustrated and at the same time sad and hurt. I didn't know what to make of it and looked at her quizzically. 

She sighed deeply then looked up at me, "They've discovered anal sex." 

At first I started laughing. I know I shouldn't have done that, but the vision of Sandy and Marilyn having anal sex was just too much to think rationally about and I started giggling. Then I saw a tear on Erin's cheek and, quickly, it turned to full-blown crying. I stopped laughing. I really wanted to give her a big brotherly hug, but I didn't know if that would be ok so I just invited her inside. I probably wouldn't have been able to get my arms around the pillow anyway. "It's OK." I said. "You can sleep here."

"Thank you," she said, with a sniffle. I closed the door behind her. She said nothing else, which was very unlike her.

I had a spare set of sheets, so together we stripped the filthy ones off Sandy's bed. We ignored the cum-stains, blood marks, and even a few shit-stains, handling the sheets as little as we could, and threw them into a corner. As we put the new sheets on the bed, Erin stopped crying and started talking, giving me a detailed blow-by-blow (sorry for the pun) description of exactly what had happened, with Sandy wiping Marilyn's butt, lubing her up, humping madly doggy style, then trying to clean up the brown gooey mess afterward -- all with Erin in her bed across the room, trying to sleep. 

As she told me more, her mood gradually lightened and soon we were both giggling at the details and telling old Sandy and Marilyn stories. We put the pink furry pillow on Sandy's bed and I could see now that it had ears, eyes, and a snout--it was a pig's face. 

I could see Erin was ok now, so I got into my bed, she got into Sandy's, and we turned out the light. She talked to me, in the darkness, across the room, about the problems she'd had with Marilyn, and little by little her voice quieted and finally silenced. I knew then that she was asleep so I went to sleep too. It was very late, and I slept soundly.

-----------------------

I was awakened by the sound of the door opening. It was morning now and light was coming in through the window and I could see Erin at the door. Our eyes met just as she was leaving, and the door closed. It was nearly time for my alarm to go off so I got up and started to dress, and as I left the room, I noticed that the furry pink pig was still on Sandy's bed.

In the dining hall that morning I had filled my tray and was sitting at a table by myself, working through my eggs. Erin came in with her tray so I waved to her and she came over.

"I'm sorry I woke you. I was trying to be quiet. You were so nice to let me stay over and we were up late and..."

I interrupted her, "It's ok. It was almost time for me to get up anyway."

She sat down and went on, "I hope you didn't mind me coming to your room last night. I was desperate and I knew you had a spare bed and I just couldn't take it any more and when they were throwing all the brown grossness around the room and the dirty smelly towels and the brown handprints on the wall and the screaming about how it hurt and how it didn't hurt and ..." 

She went on and on about her miseries with Sandy and Marilyn, barely touching her breakfast while I finished mine. I understood her suffering and wanted to help her but didn't know how. Then I remembered the pink pig pillow that she'd left on Sandy's bed and I knew what she must be hoping for. I bore at least some of the responsibility for her problem, and it was the right thing to do so I did it. "You should just move your stuff into my room," I said.

That stopped her in mid-sentence. "What?" She stopped talking now and looked at me.

"It's not going to get any better. They're never going to change. It's hopeless. Just move into my room and get away from them for good."

Erin was speechless for almost a whole second. That's a long time for her. "You want me to move into your room? Like, permanently?"

I nodded.

"Are you serious? "

I nodded again. The more I thought about it, the more right it felt.

Another whole second went by, then she shook her head. "That's nice of you but you don't want a girl for a roommate. I mean, I've lived with boys all my life. I have three brothers so I've always lived with boys, but .." She paused ever so briefly. "Do you have sisters?"

I shook my head.

"See, it's different for you. I'm used to living with boys but you don't want to live with a girl. You wouldn't want me in your room doing girl stuff..." She went on for a while..

She was really nervous, so after a minute or two I rescued her from herself. I spoke a little loudly to get her attention, "Erin!"

She stopped and looked at me. It was time for me to decide for the both of us. I stood up and picked up my tray. "Let's go move your stuff."

She thought for a moment and tilted her head. "If you think it will be ok... I mean, only if you really want to..."

"It will be ok," I said. Erin picked up her tray of uneaten food and followed me out of the dining hall.

In her room, Sandy and Marilyn were still in bed, naked of course, but at least they weren't having sex or telling each other how much they loved each other. We pulled Erin's suitcase out from under her bed and she started packing clothes while I disconnected her computer and CD player and speakers. We made no attempt to be quiet, all the better to enjoy the complaints and irritation from the couple in the bed.

We made a few trips back and forth from Erin's room to mine, and after we'd carried it all, Erin started to arrange her things. She had a number of knick-knacks and photos and was telling me the story of each-- Where she got it or who gave it to her. She told me who was in each photo (each of her three brothers, of course) and where and when each was taken. 

She stopped in mid-sentence and changed the subject, "We should talk about some important stuff."

"What stuff?" I answered.

"Well, I'm a girl you know.."

I knew that, so I nodded, and she went on.

"And you're a boy and, well, there's all the stuff about that. Like, I mean, for example, when it comes time to change clothes, do you want me to do it in the bathroom or somewhere? I mean, I've been around brothers all my life so I'm not, like, a prude or modest or anything and I don't care, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable and if it would be, like, strange or anything for you..."

"Don't worry about it," I said.

"Don't worry about what?"

"It won't embarrass me or be strange. Just do whatever you'd do with a girl roommate, or whatever you want."

"You're sure?"

I nodded.

"And if you want me to turn around or leave the room or whatever when you're changing, it's really..."

"Don't worry about that either."

"Well, don't hesitate to ask if you want me to..." her voice trailed off and she thought for a moment and started up again, and little hesitantly. "Well, there's also, you know, relieving yourself."

I didn't know what she was talking about so she went on. "You know, living with brothers I know that boys need to relieve themselves a lot and, you know, with a girl in the room, you might be embarrassed, cause, you know, we're not family or anything. It's really nothing to be embarrassed about, but I guess boys usually are. Don't worry about me, but if it bothers you..." 

I was still looking at her quizzically so she made a pumping motion with an open fist to show what she meant. That made it clear and it was hard to keep from laughing. "So, like, when you need to do it just let me know and I'll give you some time in the room by yourself if you want, like, privacy. I mean, it's nothing I haven't seen a million times before, with all those brothers, but if you want privacy I understand and I won't walk in on you or anything. I can go to the library or just take a walk or something..."




How I Met My Wife #02



I was very proud that I was able to keep a straight face. "OK. And the same for you."

"What for me?"

"When you need to relieve yourself, let me know and I'll give you time by yourself."

Now it was her turn to be puzzled, so I put up my hand and made a tickling motion with my middle finger. 

She thought for a moment then she understood. I'm pretty sure I saw her blush, and she just said "Oh, OK," then turned away and continued unpacking.

--------

That first day, Sunday, was just a normal day. I went to the gym, did some studying, and visited some friends in another dorm. It was late when I got back to the room. Erin was in Sandy's bed reading, so I got into my bed also. We each turned out our lights and, like the first night, Erin started talking, in the dark, across the room. She was hugging her pink pig tight to her chest.

I soon learned that this was her habit, and I started to look forward to bedtime as the best part of the day. Erin always had interesting stories to tell and she was completely fearless, telling me the most private and intimate details of her life and feelings She held back nothing. She told me about sad times, like when she broke up with her high school boyfriend (twice), and when she embarrassed herself forgetting her lines in a school play or getting caught lying to her Mom about something. She told me about the happy times, like when she did surprisingly well on an exam, or when her Dad sent her flowers on her birthday, which he did every year, 

Most intimate of all, she told me about her worries. She wanted to be a veterinarian, but thought that the chemistry classes would be too hard and she'd never make it. She had no idea what to do with her life, was afraid of disappointing her parents, and didn't know how she was going to pay off her college loans. She had trouble making friends and was awkward in groups of people and didn't enjoy parties and felt different than other people. She worried a lot. Don't we all?

So this became our habit. Every night we'd turn off the lights and talk. In truth, she did most of the talking. I listened, made a few comments now and then and occasionally added an anecdote from my own life. I'm not as fearless as her, so I couldn't match her candor -- and I probably wouldn't have been able to interrupt anyway. Gradually, her voice would get quieter and finally stop and she'd be asleep. Every night, just like the first, she talked herself to sleep.

In case you're interested -- after she stopped talking, she slept very soundly, so I had no trouble finding time to "relieve" myself. I never had to ask her to leave the room.

----------------------------

I soon discovered that Erin wasn't kidding when she warned me about not being a prude. 

That very first morning after she moved in, I woke up and saw that Erin's bed was empty. I was sitting on the edge of my bed trying to wake up when Erin came in, back from a shower, wearing a short robe and a towel around her hair, and, of course, her big glasses.

She saw that I was awake, smiled at me, and started talking. She was telling me about some research paper she was working on for a history class about some guy named Eugene V. Debs who was a presidential candidate from long ago. While she's telling me all this, she toweled off her hair, then took off her robe and went scavenging around looking for clothes. There she was, buck naked, hunting for panties while chattering about socialists and labor unions. 

That first day she moved in, when she'd talked about where she'd change clothes, I'd imagined that I'd be seeing her in underwear, like maybe bra and panties. That was pretty common in the dorms, so wasn't a big deal. I wasn't expecting stark naked. But there she was.

She found her panties, and before she put them on, she stopped-- in mid-sentence of course-- and looked at me, and it occurred to her that this was a little unusual. "I'm not embarrassing you or anything am I? Maybe I should get dressed somewhere else? I'm not modest or a prude or anything so it doesn't bother me, but it's not like you're family or anything so maybe you don't want me to ..." Her boobs were looking straight at me, but I was trying to be a gentleman, so I kept my eyes on her face. Almost. She put on her panties.

I interrupted and assured her that I wasn't at all offended, embarrassed, distressed, or uncomfortable, and that she shouldn't hesitate to get undressed in front of me. Truer words were never spoken. She was reassured and resumed telling me about the Workers of the World while she hunted for a bra. 

She was never in a hurry to cover herself when getting dressed, so I had plenty of time to look. She had a nice body, petite, of course, with smallish boobs, appropriate for a smallish girl. Her boobs were nicely shaped and curvy, and her nipples a deep rosy pink, a little bigger than I would have expected. The nipples were deliciously pointy and were tilted, just slightly, upward toward the ceiling. There was a small amount of baby fat around her tummy and upper arms. Her pussy had a sparse collection of fine, lightly colored hair, and her lips were fairly prominent, with not much pubic hair to hide behind. Her butt was nicely shaped and a little bit big for her size, as were her thighs. Her feet were impossibly tiny. Very nice. Very, very nice.

Her lack of inhibition extended to her conversation. No topic was off limits for her. One morning, after she had gotten dressed, she was taking her daily birth control pill and casually commented, "My period will be starting Wednesday. Don't worry if I'm a little crabby. I always get crabby when I've got my period coming. I'm out of tampons. You don't have any do you?" I shook my head, and she continued, laughing. "See, that's the disadvantage of having a boy for a roommate..." 

Then she launched into a convoluted explanation of why she was on birth control pills -- how she and her boyfriend had been using condoms, and there were always condoms available around her house so her boyfriend didn't have to pay for them, and she and the boyfriend were ok with them and they were really careful but her mom had a panic attack when the daughter of a friend of a friend, or maybe it was the girlfriend of the son of a friend, got pregnant and made her start taking the pills, and how she liked them because she didn't have to remember to use condoms and she knew when her periods were going to start and the zits on her face cleared up... 

It went on for many minutes and there were so many characters with so many names, it was like a Russian novel. I lost track of the details. Erin's stories were often like that.

---------------------------

Many of Erin's bedtime chats were about her family. She was very close to them and there was much she wanted to talk about. 

One night she told me about the time that her parents had a big fight and she and her brothers were afraid that mom and dad were going to get divorced. The fight was something about money -- that mom's sister needed money for her son who had done something or whatever (I didn't follow the details.) The fight lasted for days and Erin and her brothers were getting more and more worried and talking among themselves and getting themselves all worked up until finally they decided that they just had to sit their parents down and tell them that they couldn't get divorced, but when they did have the talk with their parents they found out that nobody was thinking about getting a divorce and everybody still loved each other and everybody fights sometimes and ...

This had happened years ago, when Erin was fourteen, but the fear in her voice as she told the story was as raw as if it were happening today.

But most of the stories about her family were happy times. She told lots of pool stories. They had a backyard pool at their house, and in the summers they spent as much time swimming as they could. The family usually had dinner by the side of the pool and as soon as it was dark and the neighbors couldn't see through the trees, they'd take off their clothes and go skinny dipping, and sometimes they'd just float around in the pool or just horse around, but sometimes they'd play water polo, with Erin and the twins on one team and the older brother and Mom and Dad on the other, and you can't play water polo with her three brothers with bathing suits on because the brothers will grab hold of your suit and dunk you and it's really hard to get away, but if you're naked you're slippery and its harder to grab you...

There was always more to any story... sometimes her boyfriend would play water polo too but he wore a bathing suit the first few times because he was embarrassed to take it off in front of her mother and her brother's girlfriend, but eventually he got sick of being dunked and everybody made fun of him so he went skinny dipping too, but last year a big tree fell down in a storm and now Mom is worried that neighbors might be able to see so they have to keep all the lights off when they're skinny dipping but that's stupid because the neighbors would have to be using binoculars to see anything and what's the difference anyway if they see and it's really hard to play water polo in the dark so sometimes they leave one light on... 

I could almost hear her smiling, in the darkness, across the room, hugging the pink pig.

-----------------

Erin often wanted to talk about her future, and after the topic grew stale, we turned it around a little. We talked about Sandy and Marilyn's future, each of us making outrageous predictions. Soon we got past the easy stuff -- divorce, jail, fat dirty children, etc. -- and we got more creative. 

My predictions were -- I have to confess -- mean-spirited. My best one was that they'd have two children and when the children were teenagers, they'd conspire to kill their parents because they couldn't stand them anymore. I devised the complete details of the murder plot, how they planned it, how they carried it out, how Sandy and Marilyn suffered (terribly), and how the children got away with it. I considered making it into a pilot for a TV show.

Erin's predictions were, characteristically, upbeat, mostly stories of redemption. In one of her stories, Sandy went to prison for embezzlement, where he finally focused on the meaning of his life. He became a jailhouse counselor, helping other inmates get their lives together and become model citizens. He was released early for good behavior, and dedicated his life to helping unemployed people learn work skills. Sandy and Marilyn became foster parents, caring for disabled and drug-addicted babies that nobody else would take.

I thought my predictions were more likely to be true, but I had to admire Erin's positive outlook. Probably, Sandy will become a rich Wall Street trader and Marilyn will be a senator. There was a movie like that. 

-------------------

After she moved in, I had plenty of opportunity to see Erin naked—nearly every day, in fact. Much as I enjoyed that, it was an even greater turn-on watching her do yoga.

Erin does yoga every morning when she doesn't have an early class. She puts a mat on the floor and does a variety of positions and exercises. It's not really yoga I don't think, but that's what she calls it. Yoga isn't normally done while talking, but that's how Erin does it.

She starts off with what she calls the lotus position, but it isn't really a lotus position. The soles of her feet are together and her toes are knitted, like fingers on praying hands. I didn't know that was even possible, but she does it effortlessly. She stays in that position for a few minutes, then does leg lifts, back arches, pelvic stretches, and whatever else she feels like doing. Not yoga at all.

When she first moved in, I used to watch from my bed, enjoying the view. She does the exercises in her night clothes, which were a tank top or t-shirt and bikini panties. Her nipples would be poking through the top and sometimes, depending on her position, the cloth would fall away a little and I'd get a view of the roundness of her boob or maybe, if I was lucky, even a nipple. The panties didn't cover much of her butt and I could watch the butt and thigh muscles tensing and relaxing as she exercised. There was usually a little pubic hair sticking out of the crotch of the panties and sometimes even a little bit of a lip. Very erotic.

Every morning, she'd tease me and tell me that I should get down on the floor and do yoga with her -- that it would be good for me. I'd tell her that I was too tired, but she persisted and eventually she decided to just throw off my covers and pull me out of bed. 

I have to confess that the reason I was reluctant to do yoga with her is that I was afraid about morning wood. I only wear boxers at night and any wood was going to be pretty obvious, but I didn't have a choice once she started pulling me out of bed. It wasn't too many days before it happened, and she saw me trying to hide it with a blanket while she was pulling the covers off. 

"What's the matter?" she asked. "You think I've never seen a stiffy before? I've got three brothers you know. When you live in a house with three brothers, there're stiffies everywhere. It doesn't bother me. Come on, get up." So I got out of bed with my cock leading the way, pushing the front of my boxers. She took a look at the tent pole in my boxers and said matter-of-factly, "Don't worry. It will go away once you start exercising." It did.

So I ended up doing yoga in the mornings with her, with me in my boxers and her in her tank top and panties. I talked her into letting me go to the bathroom first, to pee and brush my teeth, but that was the only concession she'd make. If I didn't get out of bed on my own, she'd pull me out, whether I had wood or not.

She showed me the exercises she wanted me to do, taking hold of my back or my legs or my arms and moving them to the right position. She'd sit on my back while I was doing leg lifts to keep me from arching. She'd hold my shoulders still while I did neck exercises, and she showed me how to lift and support her chest, holding her from above, while she did some sort of back exercise. Every morning, she'd try to knit my toes together, but it never worked and we'd end up giggling. 

She showed me something she'd learned from her mother. She had me lie down on the mat, face down, then she'd walk on my back, barefoot of course, using her heel and toes to massage the muscles in my shoulders. She said her mom used to do that for her dad when he came home from work tired, and that she also used to do it for her brothers sometimes. It was important not to walk on the lower back, but the upper back and butt were safer. She asked me to do it for her, but since I was much heavier, I had to keep one foot on the floor and just use the other foot to massage her. She liked it best on her butt, and sometimes, in the evening, she'd ask me to do it for her as a study break. She'd take off her jeans and lie down and I'd give her a butt-massage.

----------------

We roomed together like this for months, through exams and Christmas break, into the new semester. The first morning after we were back, we were doing yoga, just like normal, and I was sitting on Erin's legs while she did sit-ups. She was telling me about some silly Christmas present that her brothers had given her, when suddenly she stopped chattering, in mid-sentence. She paused and looked at me and said, "Do you think we should, like, kiss or something?"

The question caught me completely off guard and it took me a moment to realize that she'd changed the subject, so I didn't respond immediately.

She looked away, blushed a little, and started another sit-up and resumed chattering about Christmas presents. 

I interrupted her. "Yes," I said.

"Yes what?" she asked.

"Yes, I think we should kiss or something."

"Oh, that. You don't have to if you don't want to. I just thought I'd ask..."

"I want to." It was the truth. I did want to. I'd wanted to for weeks.

"You do?"

"Yep."

"Oh, Ok. You mean right now? Is this a good time? Or should we do it later? You don't have to if you don't think it's right..."

"Now is good," I said. I got off of her legs and we both got onto our knees, kneeling, facing each other. 

Erin took off her glasses and laid them on the mat. "I thought it would be better without..."

I took my fingers and put them on her lips. "Shhh..." I said. She stopped talking and I held my fingers on her lips. I took advantage of the silence, "I have a rule about kissing."

"What's that?" she asked, moving her lips against my fingers.

"No talking. Absolutely no talking while kissing."

"Oh, OK, that makes sense. You can't talk and kiss..." she answered, and I shhhh'ed her again, and she realized that she was talking. She pursed her lips together to show me that she would stop. 

It was an effort for her, but she did stop talking. She looked at me, and I moved my fingers away from her lips. We came close together and kissed. It was just a few moments but it was very nice.

We broke the kiss and I could tell she was getting ready to talk again, so I figured I'd better keep her lips busy. I went back for another kiss. 

This kiss wasn't brief at all. It grew from friendly and romantic to full blown passionate kissing, and I could hear Erin sighing very softly. I opened my eyes briefly and saw that hers were closed, and I saw the happiness on her face. I put my arms around her and held her. There was a full "stiffy" making a tent in my boxers. I wasn't exercising anymore, so it wouldn't be going away.

We continued kissing for many minutes, then we came up for air, and her eyes opened. I put my hands on the hem of her tank top and began to lift it. She asked "What are you doing? Are you going to..."

While she was asking, she'd put her arms in the air so that I could get the top off, so I answered simply, while I was lifting it over her head, "I'm going to play with your boobs." I threw the top aside.

"Oh, OK. That sounds like a good idea. Do you want me to..."

Once again, I put my fingers to her lips. She quieted, her lips pressed hard against my fingers, and I explained, "I have the same rule about boobs that I have about kissing."

"What's that? No talking?"

"That's right. No talking while your boobs are being played with."

She pursed her lips together, indicating silence, and I moved my hands to her boobs, cupping each in a hand and massaging its nipple with my thumb. The nipples were puckered and super-hard and pointy and I couldn't resist, so I moved my mouth down and began to kiss and gently suck and lick, first one, then the other, then back to the first, then back to the second, kissing and sucking and massaging the nipples with my thumbs. 

Erin was gasping with each suck, and I could tell that she having trouble holding the silence. She was trying as best she could, but there was a limit on what she could do, so I temporarily moved away from her boobs. I put my arms around her and gently laid her backward, onto the yoga mat. Then I put my hands on the waistband of her panties, and she couldn't restrain herself any more. As she spoke, she lifted her hips, and then her feet, so I could get the panties off. "Are we going to..."

I interrupted her immediately. "Shhhh.... No talking," I told her. I put my fingers on her lips again, quieting her, and she looked at me, wide-eyed.

I removed my boxers and she opened her legs. Her lips were wide open now, and I touched and massaged inside, feeling the soft smooth wetness. I touched each lip and the clit, gently rubbing with juices from inside her. I could tell she was very ready so I brought my cock to her opening and entered her, very slowly because she was so tiny and I was afraid of hurting her. Her pussy was tight and warm and wet around my cock, and I could feel her stretching to fit me. I moved a little bit at a time, each motion going just a little deeper inside. Her mouth was open, not talking, but in an expression of astonishment. Her eyes were wide open and locked to mine. 




How I Met My Wife #02



Soon I was fully inside. I rested for a moment, giving her a chance to get comfortable, because she was stretched so wide. Then I began stroking into her. I stroked very slowly, to make it last as long as possible. Her eyes gradually closed, her mouth gradually relaxed, and soon her face was in a state of complete pleasure, enjoying each stroke. Her legs went around my back and moved with me, helping me, on each gentle thrust, and it occurred to me that this was one of the few times I'd seen her not talking.

I stroked her like this, in and out, very slowly, for a long, long time, with her eyes closed, her mouth in a small smile, her legs pushing in and out along with me. She was moving her hips just the right way, making sure the base of my cock was rubbing her clit on each stroke. Our bodies moved together, comfortably attuned to each other's motions, like we'd been doing this all our lives. 

I wanted it to go on forever, but eventually it was time to finish, so I moved her butt up a little and began to thrust more aggressively, penetrating her more deeply. She tightened and released her pussy against my cock, squeezing me rhythmically like a fist opening and closing. Her eyes were open now, watching me intently, and her mouth was smiling and kind and encouraging, and the silence told me how much she was enjoying my pleasure. I finished inside her. I'm not normally a moaner, but I moaned this time as I unloaded a long flood, as deeply inside her as I could be. I could feel my legs quivering. 

When it was over, I lifted her off the yoga mat and brought her to me, my cock still inside her. I wrapped my arms tightly around her and I heard Erin crying and felt tears rolling down her cheeks onto my shoulder. I moved away a little so I could look at her, and after all this time of silence -- many, many minutes with no talking at all—this girl who never ran out of words had only four she wanted to say. 

"Hold me tight, Jake," she said, and she put her head back on my shoulder. 

That's what I did. We wrapped our arms around each other and held each other, enjoying the wonderful quietness. Just quietness.

------------

We went to classes that day, just like normal. We ate dinner, studied, and went to bed, just like normal. At bedtime, we turned off the lights and Erin talked and I listened, and eventually her voice faded and she fell asleep, just like normal. But this time, instead of talking from across the room from Sandy's bed, she was in my bed, with her head on my chest. My arms were holding her tight, just like she'd ask for. The pink furry pig pillow was still in Sandy's bed.

That's the way it's been every night since then, almost ten years. She is a lot less chatty and nervous now. But she still talks herself to sleep every night, telling me her innermost thoughts and happy memories, with her head on my chest and my arms holding her tight. I still love listening.

And that's how I met my wife. 



How I Met My Wife



At some point in the future my wife and our kids and I are going to be sitting around talking and our kids are going to ask me how I met their mother. I've already decided that I'm going to have to lie to them because a lie would be so much easier for them to believe than the truth.

The truth is that I met Beth at a party in college. I don't think I'll mind telling my kids that part, but what I don't think I'll ever be able to tell them is that Beth and I didn't even know each other's names until after she had given me a blowjob in front of around 100 people that were at the party. 

Here's how it happened.

It was the spring of my senior year in college, there was just one more week until finals. My former girlfriend had dumped me three months before and I was still down in the dumps about it. A friend of mine convinced me to go to the knock down drag out end of year party that his frat was having.

Well I wasn't in much of a party mood, so I figured I'd just go and hang out for a few hours then split. The party was already going when I got there so I found a spot on one of the couches and started talking to some people that I knew. 

I don't recall having that much to drink so I'm still not sure if I passed out or if I just fell asleep, but one minute it was a little after 8:00 and I was alone on the couch, the next then I know I open my eyes to find a beautiful brunette sucking and stroking my cock.

I could see the clock on the wall, and it said that it was 11:30 so I knew that I'd been out for quite awhile. The thing I didn't know was how the hell did I end up with a chick's mouth on my cock?

It took me a few seconds to realize that the party was still going on, and as I looked around I noticed that pretty much everybody in the room was staring at us as I sat there and she worked on my cock. I thought about pushing her off of me, but it felt so damn good that I didn't want her to stop.

I shifted a little in my seat and she looked up and saw that I was awake and she smiled around my cock but she kept working on it. After about ten more minutes she brought me off in her mouth, stood up and turned to show everyone my cum in her mouth to a round of thunderous applause.

I sat there dumbfounded by the whole thing, but then the girl turned back around, reached down, put my cock back in my pants and sat on my lap.

"Hi, I'm Beth." Beth said with a giggle.

"I'm Rob." I said.

"Hi Rob, it's very nice to know the name that goes with the cock." Beth said giggling again.

"Not that I'm going to complain, but how is it that you ended up, you know...doing that?" I asked.

"Well, some of my friends of mine and I saw you sitting over here all passed out and we were worried that you'd had too much to drink. We asked around to see if anybody knew you. A few guys said that they knew you and they told us about the way your ex cheated on you. We all felt sorry for you, then the guys old us that you had the biggest cock in the place. We were curious just how big it was and kept asking them to tell us how big it was. Finally one of the guys said that one of us girls should just come over here and find out, but that if we touched it to find out how big it was that we had to suck it." Beth said.

"So you sucked my dick just because you and your friends wanted to see how big it was?" I asked.

"Uh huh, and I'd say they were right. I doubt any of the other cocks here came close to yours. Once they saw it the other girls were so jealous that I got to suck it instead of them." Beth said.

"So now what do we do?" I asked.

"Now we go back to my apartment and spend the rest of the night fucking." Beth said.

"That sounds pretty good to me." I said.

We spent much more than the rest of that night fucking. I proposed to Beth four days later and we've been together ever since. 

I think when they ask how I met their mother I'll tell the kids that we were set up on a blind date, I'm definitely not gonna tell them that their mother had swallowed my cum before either of us knew the other's name.



How I Met My Wife



As usual, my grateful thanks to evanslily for her guidance and editing skills.

There is no sex at all in this story. You have been warned.



It's an odd place, the City of London. Odd shaped buildings in odd narrow winding streets, odd shaped modern offices squeezed in between old buildings that had been refurbished. Then one warm September morning I discovered the big advantage of being in this rabbit warren of commerce; I could see into the windows of the offices across the narrow tarmac ribbon of Costermonger's Lane. It had been several hundred years since the last Costermonger left (not that I had any idea what they did). Sanderson and Robbins were marketing associates and I had no idea what they did either. But the gold lettering emblazoned across the window proudly proclaimed their profession and telephone number.

As I blew on the surface of my coffee trying to reduce the scalding liquid to a drinkable temperature, I glanced across to Sanderson and Robbins to see HER. A Goddess. Long straight blonde hair that cascaded down her back to her slim waist. The elegant dress showed her shapely figure to perfection, the full bust with enough cleavage to entice and yet appear demure, the sleek hips that were a testament to regular visits to a gym, and legs that seemed to go on forever. Her face, when my eyes finally reached it, was sheer beauty.

I have no idea how long the vision held me spellbound, but when the telephone brought me back to reality, my coffee had cooled sufficiently to permit a long drink before I picked up the receiver.

From that day I watched her. I saw her arrive in the morning. Her every appearance near the window entranced me. At lunch time, I followed her to the sandwich bar, where she favoured tuna or prawn sandwiches with fruit and a bottle of still water. Each evening, I watched her walk towards the Tube station at Holborn. I was becoming a stalker — and yet I seemed powerless to escape the siren quality of her beauty.

Each day saw me drawn inexorably further under the spell of this seductress. It became harder and harder to work. My secretary began to make pointed remarks about the time I spent admiring the view from my window — I might have been tempted to make some sharp retort, but she was so like my mother I dared not. Thank God she didn't know what I was really looking at.

As I left for my daily lunch in the sandwich bar, Dani, the receptionist, a pleasant young woman with a fondness for shapeless dresses, would comment on my eagerness to fetch my meal. She always had an enigmatic smile on her face. OK so it was a pretty face but the expression was unsettling. Did she know of my infatuation?

How could I talk to my dream woman without looking like some creepy pervert stalker? What if she had a boyfriend? Worse still, what if she didn't have a boyfriend? Why would a woman so beautiful not have a boyfriend? What if she was a harridan? Perhaps no man was good enough for her. The endless list of questions tore at my confidence. How could I dare approach her?

By December I was completely beguiled and had to do something. I had to speak to her. Through my window I watched as she and the other staff at Sanderson and Robbins decorated their offices with fake Christmas trees, shiny foil decorations and balloons. Finishing my coffee on Friday morning, I was trying to do some of the work for which I was paid. I looked at my inbox: thirty-seven emails.

The first twelve took until lunchtime. Well not all of them obviously, five were spam – God knows why the company paid for a spam filter. Four were the usual company news, in this case two staff announcements, an engagement and a birth, and two notifications of new contracts obtained. So I actually had to work on three and they provided a welcome distraction from the Goddess.

She went to the sandwich bar and I was surprised to see her order a ham Ciabatta. Perhaps this change in routine was an omen. I wondered if I should talk to her but before I could make a decision she was gone. So I took my cheese and tomato toastie back to my desk where I could wash it down with a mug of coffee.

Leaving greasy finger prints on the computer keyboard, I returned to my email inbox. I didn't want any Cialis, I had no debt problems and I didn't want a degree in psychology, despite the cheap price. The company had won another good contract and Corporate Relations wanted to know if anyone on the staff wished to enter the Three Peaks Race. People actually wanted to run up a mountain for fun? Not for the first time, I thought I would get more work done if I wasn't trying to read all these pointless emails. 

No I didn't want to know about the changes to the telephone system, someone could come and tell me in person if it was important. I wasn't eligible for overtime so I didn't care the submission date for claims had changed. At last I came to the first work email of the afternoon and yet a thought was niggling in my brain. Telephone. That was it, I could telephone her.

I glanced across to Sanderson and Robbins. She was there, sitting by the window. Turning back to my desk, I dialled the gold painted number and waited for a couple of moments before she answered.

"Sorry to keep you." Her voice sounded soft and smooth yet breathless as if she had been running. Somehow it was a surprise. I don't know what I expected but it wasn't what I got.

"Er. I realise this is going to sound odd, creepy even, but I feel I know you. I see you at your desk every day and you've captured my heart." I waited for her to speak. Looking over my shoulder, I could see her sitting with the telephone against her ear. 

After a short pause she spoke again, sounding suspicious. "This is very weird. Why would you use the telephone to speak to me? Are you too scared to face me?"

"I apologise. I've been trying to summon the courage to talk to you and I almost managed it today but I'm afraid I lost my nerve again. This is the first time I have ever done anything like this. I know it's freaky and I'm truly sorry if I'm scaring you." 

Once more there was silence. I expected the sound of her hanging up every moment and yet I could still hear her breathing. What would it be like to feel that soft breath on me? I looked again at the office across the road and she was still there, pushing her hair behind her ear as she leaned back in her seat. Eventually I had to say something.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yes. I'm just thinking. I suppose you want to meet me?" Her voice was already sounding familiar to me, surely a sign we were meant to be together?

"Oh yes, it would be a dream come true." Could this be real? She was actually considering meeting me? My heart soared.

"Well it had better be somewhere decent. The Floating Lotus in Harper Street at eight o'clock tonight?"

I knew the best Chinese restaurant in the area. It would be busy as always, but then again she'd want to meet in a busy place with a lot of people about. "I'll make a booking."

"I shall look forward to it. Goodbye." Giving me barely enough time to say my own goodbye, she hung up.

I tried to return to my computer but couldn't concentrate. SHE had agreed to meet me. I booked a table at the Floating Lotus and returned to my PC. After a fruitless hour I admitted defeat and headed for home. Thankfully my secretary was not at her desk, so I left her a quick note and walked to the main doors. Dani was by the electrical cupboard behind her desk in deep conversation with a workman, whose overalls identified him as working for Premier Telecomms. Neither of them looked my way as I slipped out.

All the way home I was wracked by questions and self-doubt. Perhaps she'd just agreed to go to get rid of me. Maybe she would turn up with her boyfriend – who would, of course, be a short-tempered, rugby-playing giant. The police might arrive to arrest me for stalking her. Would I be in hospital, prison or alone in the restaurant tonight?

At half past seven I was in Harper Street. I'd spent three hours trying to decide the image I wanted to portray, which had resulted in the contents of my wardrobe being spread across my bed. I thought the black leather jacket, white dress shirt and designer denim jeans would allow me to look smart and casual. A heavy rain shower that began suddenly as I came out of the tube station had left my trousers damp and my hair unkempt. The wet road reflected a blaze of colour. Red car tail lights, orange street lamps, white headlamps and the many colours of neon shop lights. Perhaps if I'd noticed the puddle in the gutter around a blocked drain I might have avoided it – the speeding taxi didn't and I could only estimate the damage to my Azor la Mode designer shoes. From the unpleasant wet feel of my socks I knew the shoes were soaked.

I had intended to wait outside the restaurant but drying off in a comfortable chair had become much more appealing. The wonderful aromas of the food greeted me as I opened the door: ginger, garlic, spices, onion, and others I had yet to identify. An obsequious waiter escorted me to my table providing me with a coffee to warm me up, and a brandy to calm me down. After twenty minutes I began to feel conspicuous and asked for the menu, to provide both something to read and a screen behind which I could hide.

Every time the door opened I was ready to leap from my seat, only to be disappointed on each occasion. The restaurant began to fill and my despondency grew. By eight fifteen I had begun to think I would be eating alone. Half past eight found me on my third coffee and second brandy — and getting ready to slink home. Another quarter of an hour, I decided, was as long as I would wait.

The door opened at twenty to nine and a bedraggled figure appeared, shaking an umbrella and dripping water from a raincoat. It looked like a woman, but her head and face was hidden beneath the hat pulled down hard on her head. I watched her as a waiter took the hat, wet coat and umbrella. As she turned to face me I recognised Dani — maybe I wouldn't have to eat alone. There was still the risk that my Goddess might arrive but I'd resigned myself to accepting I'd been stood up. Since Dani wouldn't have known about the date, there were no embarrassing explanations required.

I waved at her across the room and received an answering wave with a broad smile. Her dress was the opposite of anything I had seen her wear at work. Those awful shapeless sacks she usually favoured had hidden a very shapely figure. As she approached my table I realised for the first time she was actually rather attractive. 

"Hello Peter," Dani said to me cheerfully as she arrived. "God isn't this weather awful? It took me ages to get a taxi."

"I know, I had an awful journey here too." But at least my feet had dried out.

"And after an afternoon like I had, it just about finished off the day," she continued as my attentive waiter friend pulled out her chair and ensured she was safely seated. The brief glimpse of leg as her skirt rode up her thigh was very rewarding and I began to believe the evening would not be a complete disaster.

"What was so awful about your afternoon?" I had rather hoped we wouldn't be discussing work.

"I was on the telephone from the time I finished lunch to when I went home," she complained.

"Who to?" A woman with long blonde hair had arrived and just for a moment I thought it was HER. I almost missed Dani's reply, a few innocent words that destroyed my dream.

"Just about everyone. You'd think they'd have been intelligent enough to read the email about the new system."

I forgot about the Goddess that night, my heart captivated by another, though I did notice a few weeks later that she was no longer in the offices across the road. Dani is my wife now but ten years and two children later I have no intention of telling her that I too couldn't be bothered to read an email that told me to dial nine for an outside line.



How I Met My Wife



Chapter One of the series 

Stacie & Cole: A Love Story

Stories about how guys met their wives make for some great fairy-tales of chance romantic encounters at the grocery store or of plotting and planning how to ask out the girl in the next office who caught their eye at a party. This is a story along those lines, well sort of.

I had had just gotten out of the military and had scored a good job in New Orleans working for a photo studio. My boss John and I had gone out for drinks a couple of times. He loved to hear stories of the girls from all over the world, whether they were true or not. I told him tales about the wild bars of the Philipeans and about the legendary massage parlours of Hong Kong. His favourite though were about the young female officers who liked to go slumming with the enlisted, forbidden lust in exotic foreign cities that cost more than one their promising career.

He would tell me stories about what he believed was his best work, his erotic nudes of the cities' elite ladies that went on behind closed doors. He had lived in New Orleans nearly all his life making a living by capturing the city's wealthy and powerful on film. He was one of the most well known portrait photographers in the city. And that fame along with discretion brought along requests from the wealthy couples for more private sessions. Sometimes he would be invited to some of their more exclusive parties where some of the elite couples went slumming for a night. It was on my thirty-second birthday when he offered to let me come to one. He wouldn't be able to make it and he hated to cancel at such short notice and leave the ladies wanting. I gladly accepted, thinking what better way to spend my birthday than taking advantage of a couple of married rich ladies in front of their husbands.

At first I didn't know what to expect. My head swam and my hands sweated all that day in anticipation. Little did I know of how much this party would direct the rest of my life. That evening when I arrived at the hotel, a Holiday Inn on the intnerstate, I was nearly ready to walk away. I forced myself to knock on the door and much to my relief an older man opened it, still clothed.

"I'm here for the party." I managed, trying to repress the nervousness in my stomach that threatened me with nausea, "I was invited by John."

"Come in, come in," he said with a broad smile, opening the door wider and ushering me in. He was skinny and looked eerily like William Defoe "He told me he was sending someone in his place. Cole, right?"

"My name's Ron," he grinned, closing the door and gripping my hand, "glad you could make it. Go ahead and get comfortable and feel free to jump in anywhere. There is some food is on the table in the corner."

The suite was made up of a living room and a bedroom off to the side. It was clear that most of the action was in the bedroom, three guys stood in various states of undress in the doorway, their hands toying with their noticeably stiff pricks.

"There are about twelve other guys tonight," Ron continued leading me back towards the doorway. He introduced me to a couple of guys sitting naked on the couch nursing a drink and watching a homemade movie on the television, obviously in recovery. "Our four lucky ladies tonight are my wife Lynne on the bed," he pointed towards queen-size bed where a thick dark-haired lady in a black lace teddy was engaged with three guys, "better watch out, looks like she's a little hungry tonight. That's Carol in the hot tub" he said pointing over to the hot-tub to a thin lady with short black hair who was on all fours devouring a thick cock while another slid gracefully into her snatch. The men's faces were of pure ecstasy and they assailed their wanton victim.

And that little cutie-pie in the corner is Carol's daughter Stacie." Stacie was on her back, her legs spread-eagled as the guy she was laying on slid roughly into her ass. Another guy was knealingkneeling between her open legs, slipping his cock deep inside her hungry slit as her mouth worked hard to milk a third cock of its precious seed. Her breasts bounced atop her heaving form, shiny from at least one load of semen that had dripped down her chin onto her tanned chest. Once hand balanced on the stud beneath her while the other gripped yet another cock, working diligently to bring even more seed splashing down on her. The only stitch of clothing she had on were her black high heel sandals that clung to her tiny feet waving in the air above her head. Sticky white streams streaked her shoulder length dark brown hair and her black lust filled eyes seem depthless as they eyed each of her lovers one by one.

"Our red headed vixen Mary will be here a little later, she's running a little late," Ron went on about Carol's husband Michael currently sliding his cock into his wife Lynne's protruding bottom, but for that moment the world seemed to stop turning. Stacie's dark absorbing eyes flashed to me for a moment and it felt as if pieces of my life suddenly were jolted out of place and violently stuck back together. Then her attention was drawn away as her mouth was suddenly filled by her cocksman's seed. Stacie began bobbing her head in rhythm to his insistent thrusts, another small stream of cum leaking from her lips as she struggled to swollow all of his generous offering.

As I looked around the room for a place to jump in, a guttural groan from the hot tub drew my attention to Carol and her two lovers. She was a lady in her early fifties. It was easy to tell she had been a stunning woman when she was younger and she had certainly aged gracefully. The guy behind her was breathing heavily, his hands caressing her hips as he slowly withdrew. I walked over to the tub as the guy withdrew and was replaced by the man she had been sucking. He slipped into her slowly but from the look on his face he wouldn't last long.

Carol smiled coyly as I slid into the hot tub and presented to her my hardened cock. Her dark eyes, nearly as dark and deep as her daughter's blinked slowly as the guy behind her began thrusting, her body rocking in motion to his insistent strokes. I pressed my cock against her lips and they parted slightly, the tip of her tongue caressing it and snaking along its soft receptive belly. My hands stroked through her dark silken hair and my eyes slowly closed as her heated embrace began to consume me. I watched as this lady nearly twenty years older than me devoured my prick, each thrust of the other man drove my cock deeper between her passionate lips.

The scene in that room was unreal, three beautiful women engaged in fulfilling their every carnal need, their bodies an unparalleled tangle of ecstasy and lust. Lynne had finished off another guy and was now on her knees on the bed with her back towards me, her legs spreading over a new man as she gripped a second cock in her hand ready to draw out its vital nectar. I watched as the cock beneath her penetrated into her sodden sex, its warm wet flesh consuming the man's pole achingly slow and taking it deep within. Her mouth closed around the second prick, hungrily engulfing it as the man began to roughly slide it farther into her mouth. Her wide hips began their gyration and I could see every licentious movement as her pussy began to milk the marauding prick, sliding up and down like a merry-go-round.

A slight bite on my own cock brought my attention back to Carol who's deep shadowy eyes stared up at me devilishly, she obviously meant to keep all of my attention focused on her. I could feel her groans along my staff as her pleasure continued to escalate. I watched in lust and awe as she was pounded from behind, the warm water caressing her as her other lover filled her again and again. I could see his orgasm overtake him, his face drew clenched as he groaned aloud. Every unoccupied man turned to watch as he came into the other end of the woman sucking my dick. Their hands stroked their cocks in envy and anticipation, knowing that they too would soon be in his position. Watching him cum was an awesome spectacle, his hips thrusting powerfully against Carol's ass as she gasp and groaned, her own climax finally over taking her. She released my cock, slipping it out of her mouth with tendrils of moisture still clinging to it. Her hand gripped it's slippery length, sliding along it in rhythm to her orgasm as she balanced precariously on the other hand and pressed her head against my belly, her eyes rolling back as her lids fluttered closed. After long moments of guttural climax that left both gasping for breath a skinny man who had been sitting off to the side climbed in the tub and began cleaning her flooded poon of the last man's spilt seed. He buried his face in her cunt, lapping up every last drop of sperm that now oozed out. She shivered with renewed pleasure. The small voyeuristic crowd that had gathered around us shifted to the bed as one of Lynne's men cried out in vulgar pleasure.

After a few moments Carol shooed the guy back to his corner and grinned up at me "You had better get back there before someone steals your spot."

I gladly obeyed; taking my place behind her and positioning my anxious cock at her proudly offered pubic mouth as Lynne's husband leaned over the side of the tub and kissed Carol lewdly before sliding into the tub to take my place. He grinned at me as we pressed our ready shafts against Carol's lips and pushed inside of her simultaneously. She whimpered as the two of us settled into her. Her apex was hot saturated bliss, slick from an intoxicating mix of her lovers' cum and her own. My cock slid in easily as I palmed her protruding bottom, slipping in to the hilt until I could feel my balls brush against her. The warm water caressed them too and I could feel my passion beginning to grow. Carol pushed back against me as I began rubbing her clenched anus and I pressed a finger in as she encouraged me with muffled groans and whimpers.

Ron kept her attention focused on his invading cock, gently gripping her hair on either side of her head and keeping her mouth from wondering. But her hips were clearly all mine and her pussy sucked greedily at my attacking prick as she thrust back against me. I leaned over Carol, roughly fondling a tit with my free hand as I continued to finger her ass.

I gasp with mounting pleasure, deliberately trying to keep a slow pace as I scanned the room, drinking in the depraved scene. Stacie now was bent over a chair, a black guy with a cock as thick as her wrist was assaulting her ass, his hand grasping a fist full of her dark hair and pulling her head up at a cruel angle. Her face was a twisted mix of pleasure and pain as her hands held the chair's legs with a white-knuckled grip. Her knees were shaking as long legs desperately tried to support her balanced on the two tiny heels. Her new lover slammed into her without regard, sneering as he started at his cock disappearing inside the little white girl's rectum. But oddly the crueller he fucked her the more she appeared to love it, oblivious to any pain the guy may have been causing and completely focused on the bliss, turned on by the depravity of her act.

I could pick Carol's husband out of the growing group of men that had gathered around the two, stroking his engorged cock as his daughter weathered the torrent of lust that the black guy was directing against her. My mind was too awash with my desperate hunger to question it and it only seemed to fuel the inferno that seemed to be consuming my entire body.

I felt Carol's body begin to shiver as another orgasm began to sear her. Her climax consumed me and I erupted into her, my mind an overwhelming torrent of sinful ecstasy as I pounded into her from behind. I could almost feel her climax and mine mixing at our joining and causing an explosive reaction that amplified our mutual rapture. Ron groaned as he unloaded into Carol's mouth, his loss of control no doubt fuelled by our wanton display. Carol's mouth fought vainly to catch his erupting seed, her mind still reeling from her immense climax. I kneeled behind her, gasping as the explosive inferno of my climax began to diminish and fiery tingles began to consume my body, caressing my muscles in a soothing after-bliss. Carol kept her bottom pressed against me for long wonderful moments trying vainly to prolong the heaven of our act. When she finally moved she slid her hips into the warm bubbling water of the hot tub, turning to me. I joined, sliding next to her on the molded step, enjoying the heated jets as they blew against our bodies. Her face was a picture of contentment, a woman thoroughly satisfied. Her slender fingertips caught the last drops of cum on her chin and pushed them delicately onto her tongue. Her smile was sweet, a soft southern charm concealing a vessel of pure lust.

"I think I could use a drink after that," she said as she stood up uneasily, her voice a sweet song as she smiled seductively down at me, "We'll have to do that again some time."

I honestly couldn't wait. But for now there was other business to attend to. I cleaned myself in the warm waters and then reluctantly got out. As I made my way out of the bedroom towards the food a growing crowd of semi-clothed men announced the promised arrival of Mary. A mother of two, she was a stunning woman probably in her mid-forties, tall with long dark red hair and long shapely legs accented by white satin stockings and tall black heels. Her fare skin was sprinkled with pale freckles, especially around her mesmerizing blue eyes that wrinkled innocently as she smiled from man to man. She glanced seductively around at the men gathering around her, licking her lips and devouring them from top to bottom. Her husband followed her in, smiling and greeting those guys he obviously knew. He was a bit older than her with grey hair and a beard. He was a bit more meek looking than Lynne's or Carol's husbands. My feelings were confirmed as he took a seat off to the side as the men began to undress his wife. She was a fiery woman, picking who she wanted first then going to work. Four or five pairs of hands caressed her body, pulling her clothes free and consuming her flesh. She gave herself to them, embracing first one man then another as probing hands slid between her legs hungry to be the first to feel her feverish slit. Two men groped her exposed breasts, each suckling a nipple as one of her hands found it's first engorged prick.

Michael was at the front of her procession, greeting her with a lurid kiss before helping her down onto one of the room's two couches. He spread her thighs and embraced her womanhood, her approving moans showing just how much she enjoyed the attention. After many long moments he finally mounted her, inducing her first of seeming endless orgasms from her sensuous depths. I sat and ate for a while, watching as she went through man after man, her burning inundating lust never seeming to waiver. Her husband who introduced himself as Martin sat contently watching his wife, desire obvious in his eyes but still he sat by.

After about half an hour, her line finally dwindled and she settled down on the couch to catch her breath. I finally stood up and walked over to her, my refreshed prick engorged and aching after watching her spectacle.

Mary smiled wickedly up at me and gently gripped my offered dick, "Well here's one I haven't had yet, are you finally ready for me?"

"Yes ma'am." I managed as I looked her over, devouring her from head to toe as I took her place on the couch and she knelt between my legs. My mouth watered with anticipation, my hands shook as I slid my fingers through her long fiery hair. Her hair was thick and silky, her eyes exhilarating as they watched my face contort in sheer pleasure as she drew my pulsing manhood into her ravenous mouth. She was voracious in her task, consuming my cock as if she were an animal in heat, her mouth rapacious in her wanton abandon. It was if the countless other men she had devoured had only whet her appetite for cock. The ecstasy was excruciating as her pitiless tongue caressed first the head then the vulnerable belly of my cock, her teeth nipping cruelly, sending shivers of painful pleasure darting throughout my body. She was quite the showman, too, her movements were always languid and sensuous and her playful eyes danced with need as she glanced up occasionally to make sure she still held my full attention. Even on her knees, her enticing motherly hips swayed seductively as her head bobbed rhythmically in my lap and her swaying breasts brushed against the inside of my thighs creating brief pools of fire that smouldered on the aroused skin. No doubt the group of guys she had just finished off who were sitting on the couch opposite us were getting quite a show as her free hand plied her hungry snatch, stroking her thick aroused nether-lips between her open legs.

My pleasure was nearly irresistible, Mary's accomplished mouth performing her task with unrivalled skill. My head throbbed with lust as she worked, my prick engulfed in a fiery sea of searing saliva, crimson hair spilling down her head like molten steel. As I began to feel the first tingles of climax, Mary stopped, her hand gripping my cock at the root, staving off my pleasure and leaving me gasping, my eyes pleading for the release I sought so desperately. Her playful blue eyes shimmered with mirth as she knowingly teased me over and over. After the fourth time I was nearly losing my mind and my hands tugged gently at her hair, pulling her eyes up to meet mine so she could see my desperation. She grinned with triumph and got to her feet and pulled me to mine before climbing onto the couch on her knees, offering her wide inviting hips. She looked playfully over her shoulder at me as I ran my hands over her back and down to her smooth creamy cheeks, spreading them gently and sliding a finger into her soaked slit. Mary purred, her eyes fluttered closed as I slid my finger inside her hungry apex. As slick as she was I found myself losing any semblance of self-control I had left. I shakily removed my finger and placed my throbbing head at her glistening opening. I could see her other lover's seed seeping out of her, the thought only stoked the maelstrom of lust that Mary had been building between my legs. I slid into her easily, wanting instantly to explode inside her yielding warm walls. I fought back the near irresistible desire, concentrating on the feel of her body against me, her muscles pressing back against me as I caressed her hips and thighs, her swollen lips gripping desperately to my invading rod. The experience was incredible. Carol had settled in on the other couch to watch us with the guys in recovery, sipping a glass of wine and a burgundy satin robe now clinging to her shapely body. A couple of guys had began fondling her again, and she smiled shyly from the attention and began toying with their revived dicks.

A balding guy thick around the middle moved in front of Mary as she leaned over the back of the couch, presenting her his hairy prick. Without faltering she drew it into her mouth, consuming it with every bit of desire she had mine. The licentious vixen seemed to be invigorated, penetration at both ends only added fuel to her rampant desire. Her red tresses seemed to glow with the inferno that burned between her legs. Her body soon acquired a voracious rhythm with her lovers, every thrust I made into her drove the other man's cock into her eager mouth. I could feel the mixture of her slick juices and her lovers' cum begin to seep from her as we fucked, each thrust into her spilled more of the concoction onto our legs, the drops slowly making their way down to the cream coloured couch. As I watched our fusion, her delicate lips pulling at my cock with each with drawl, graciously accepting it with each thrust back inside her, my heart pounded in my ears. I tried to thrust slowly, teasingly into her, the feel of her fiery cunt was amazing and I wanted to take pleasure in it as long as she would let me. My balls rubbed against her engorged lips as we coupled, their rough sensitive skin excited by her hot smooth pussy lips. Mary didn't seem to be in a hurry, luxuriating in my deliberate lavations. Men now stood around us, their upright cocks staring at the three of us, primitive lustful hunger evident in every man's face. Carol was again engaged on the other couch, laying on her back with her legs wrapped around one man who roughly drove into her while she swallowed another man's prick, burying her face in his thick pubic hair as he forced his cock down her throat again and again.




How I Met My Wife



Muffled moans escaped Mary's occupied mouth as her hips became more insistent, urging me to drive into her harder with desperate thrusts, each one pushing me deeper and deeper into her starving slit until her body convulsed in rude carnal ecstasy. The other man erupted as Mary's climax over took her and she released her demanding grip on his prick as she cried out, his cum spewing violently across her blissfully twisted face, streaking her fiery red hair and flushed freckled face with white gooey semen. Her guttural groans were intoxicating, so primal and abandoned that any self control I had left collapsed, the deluge of bliss that had been mounting within my prick erupting within her demanding hellhole. Mary's spasming cunt swallowed every drop, a bottomless abyss that craved an unending supply of man cum. I gave her all I had until it streamed out of her, sliding down the inside of her thighs. Mary's orgasm had left her panting, her face a mess of cum and sweat. Breathlessly she urged me on, begging me to fill her with my liquid love. Her hands grasped at my legs futilely as I plunged heedlessly into her, her manicured nails dragging savagely across my skin only adding to my rapture as my body was wracked by uncompromising ecstasy. Mary was whimpering weakly as my staggering bliss began to subside. Another of the guys who had been watching our spectacle had moved into position and was pulling Mary's head onto his cock by a fist full of her crimson hair. I got to my feet uneasily, yet another guy moving in quickly to take my place. Mary welcomed him with open legs, picking up where we left off.

I settled down to watch Mary and Carol in action on one of the many chairs that had been set up. Lynne was taking a break and sat down next to me. She gladly accepted my offer to get her a glass of wine and when I returned we watched the incredible scene together for a while. Mary had finished off her next two cocksmen and she now sat on the soiled couch, the thick black guy was thrusting into her brutally. She cried out in utter pleasure, his large strong hands gripping her ankles at arm's length. His fat cock drilled into her soft pink mouth and Mary's face looked as though he would split her in half. I was glad she had given me my turn already.

Lynne and I watched and talked. She told me about her kids in high school and her husband's job. She talked about how Carol wouldn't fuck the black guy though she couldn't understand why, a man is a man no matter what colour his was. She ask me if I was enjoying my self and about what I did. She managed to draw out of me that it was my birthday and that John had let me take his place. I must admit that her black lace teddy that she now wore was a bit distracting, her generous breasts nearly spilling out over the supportive cups. She was forty-eight, a stay-at-home mom with very motherly attributes. Her hair was dark, nearly black stretching down nearly to her waist and was tousled from her activities earlier. Her face was pretty but tired, her skin was fare but had the look of maybe a few too many days in the sun. Her hips were wide, proof of her two children and a comfortable lifestyle. But her energy was exhilarating as she talked, sometimes distracted by someone walking by trying to say hi. Her eyes were thrilling as she looked at me, a hunger for life evident in their dark sparkle.

As we watched her husband slip into Carol's industrious slot on the far couch, Lynne cheered her on and warned her husband that Carol had better not want any more when he was through or he was going to get it when they got home. Her spirit was remarkable. When she turned back to me mischief was in her dark eyes.

"That looks like fun, I think you've had a long enough break birthday boy." She grabbed my hand and pulled me along to the bedroom where she promptly sat down on the bed.

Stacie was entertaining two men now. She sat atop a heavy hairy man, her hips rocking steadily on his, his no doubt equally fat prick filling her emptiness. Another man, skinny in comparison to the other, stood beside her with his cock buried between her lips. Her movements were slow, her weariness no doubt beginning to catch up with her. I had not seen her take a break from the time I had gotten there nearly two hours earlier.

"Can you strap me in sweetie?" Lynne said handing me the business end of four Velcro straps, each attached to a leg of the bed. I gladly strapped first her ankles then her wrists with then so she was spread out on her back on the hotel bed, her legs stretched wide for easy access. As I finished strapping her last wrist I reached down between her spread-eagled legs, unsnapping the black lace covering. My fingers danced along her furry apex, sliding between her awakening hairless sex. The middle-aged mother purred with approval, her dampening skin glistening in the dim candlelight. I placed my hardening cock between her parting lips and Lynne accepted it gladly, her tongue curling around it possessively. Her legs pulled at her restraints as I worked her open snatch, teasing her with light gentle touches across her heated skin, graduating in time to more insistent strokes, slipping at first one then another finger into her sweltering depths. Her stiffened pleasure button peaked out desperately yearning to be touched. Another couple of guys had gathered around and began teasing her too, stroking her with featherlike caresses. She now had four guys sliding their hands across her body, a couple of them cupping her generous breasts, her stiff pink nipples aching for their mouths. A guy on the other side of the bed accommodated her, sucking in one of her thick tips. Lynne's mouth was surprisingly desperate for so short a time. She had easily accomplished reviving my carnal fervour, my libido lusting wholly for her body splayed out so vulnerably.

"I need you in me," she said breathlessly as I continued to press my cock into her resistant mouth. Without hesitation I climbed between her splayed legs, my fingers slowly withdrawing and replaced by my eager cock head. I lowered my head and kissed her, our tongues sliding heatedly against each other as I slowly penetrated her, wanting to drive her crazy with longing. Lynne was wild, her kiss hungry and shameless as the other men continued to stroke her. After long moments I began long amorous stokes into her and our mouths separated, breathless gasps escaping both of our mouths. I was surprised as a long stiff prick was pushed in between us, offered obviously to Lynne. I watched as her lips I had just embraced swallowed yet another cock only inches away. It glistened as it slid from her mouth before plunging back in insistently. These guys were not giving the ladies any leeway, they wanted what they wanted regardless of what the women needed. Lynne seemed even more turned on by this, licking and sucking at the pushy cock forced on her. I guess I had done no different. Seeing her devour a cock from this close was as exhilarating as it was unsettling. The man's balls brushed her cheek as he forced his tool deeper in Lynne's mouth. I was so amazed as she took it all that I began thrusting into her harder, driven by the brazen act before me. I was thankful for my previous orgasms as I now fucked the licentious slut beneath me, thrusting deep into her with long brutal strokes. Her pussy was nearly as adept at pleasuring a cock as her mouth, milking my invading, eager for my cum. Each thrust brought more and more bliss, my orgasm starting to swell with each breach of her greedy gash. Slippery and hot, her pussy pulled at me, pleading with me to fill it with the sperm is so craved. The increasing reaction between our bodies was maddening, tangled together and meshed in mutual ecstasy. Lynne was on the brink of losing control herself, her body shuddering as our hips collided with increasing fervour. Her limbs continued to struggle against the straps, their soft cloth cuffs continuing to hold her fast. It was gratifying having this woman when she couldn't do a thing about it, even her mouth too full to put up any protest. Two guys now suckled at her hardened nipples, their hands holding her body against the mattress as her body was savagely brutalized by her other cocksman and me. She was loving every second of it.

Despite how many countless times she must have already came that night, when Lynne's orgasm finally overtook her, her body convulsed like it was her first. Her eyes rolled back and her back arched defiantly as her mouth hung open, whimpering. Her hand tugged frantically at the cock before her until a long stream of white jizz spurted across her face, covering her cheek and hair and filling her gaping mouth with thin globs of hot cum. The man's cock twitched in her hand, unrelenting pleasure evident on his face as he gripped her hair brutally and continued to thrust. Her climaxing cunt tightened around my cock, begging for me to release my nectar into her depths as well. Before I could stop it my cock let forth it's gooey treasure, erupting into Lynne with vicious carnal bliss. Her strong thick legs wrapped around my waste, locking my convulsing prick inside of her endless snatch, hungry for what little cum remained in me. After a heavenly moment, I collapsed onto her, again breathless from our feat.

Her fingers deftly pushed the escaping rivulets of semen back towards her thirsting mouth and she sucked her fingertips dry. Another guy quickly stuffed his cock into her compliant mouth, horny for his turn. Nearly as soon as Lynne released me another stiffed cocked stud was slipping his eager meat into her crevasse.

I was exhausted after three women, my prick satisfied and limp. Even watching the sinful performances going on around me brought only weak twitches. I felt nearly as contented as I had in my entire life. Looking around at the three women I had just spent the evening giving myself to still working to fulfil their vast carnal pleasures, I couldn't help feel a mixture of envy and sympathy for their husbands. Mostly envy. As I expected Stacie was entertaining another two guys, this time Ron and another man who had arrived after I did. I walked out to the common room, poured myself another glass of wine and took a seat in one of the viewing chairs to watch more of the show. The party had started to wind down now, only a few of the late comers seemed to be hanging around either actively engaged or cleaning up. As the ladies finished up with their last couple lovers and began cleaning up themselves Michael came up beside me and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me out into the middle of the common room.

"Can I have every one's attention please," he bellowed. Nearly everyone in the room stopped what they had been doing and turned to watch him. "As some of you know, it is our tradition to celebrate special occasions. Tonight Cole is celebrating two very important occasions. First, it is his first party with us, and from what I've heard from the ladies he is certainly welcome back to our next party."

The three ladies had now wrapped themselves in their robes and nodded their heads in agreement, Mary holding up her glass of wine in salute.

"What a cock he's got!" Lynne exclaimed mimicking Mary's toast.

Michael then continued, "Now the second occasion he is celebrating is his thirty-second birthday! But since we didn't get any cake for him I did arrange for some birthday pie!"

There were cheers from the ladies and the remaining few men. "It is tradition that when someone celebrates a birthday with us that they clean out the lady who has fucked the most men that night!" Even more cheers arose from the small crowd. "But first we have to find out who that is - Lynne my delicious tramp, how many deserving guys have pleasured you this fine night?"

"Oh you know I hate to count," she exclaimed, "but if I had to guess I would say twenty-three." The other two ladies clapped, toasting Lynne.

"Well I don't' hate to count!" Mary laughed, "Twenty-five beautiful dicks, most of `em more than once!" The cheering was louder for Mary and again the other two ladies toasted Mary.

"I wasn't quite as big a slut as Mary or Lynne," Carol chimed in, "Nineteen beautiful cocks found their pleasure in me." Carol was cheered just the same and toasted by her cohorts.

"Well it seems we're missing one more contender" Michael boomed again "Stacie! Where are you baby girl?"

"Right here daddy," his daughter exclaimed joining the other three ladies.

"Well, sweetie?" Carol asked expectantly.

"I guess I was kind of a slut to night," she started, "I'm afraid I hogged more than my fair share of the men, thirty-two at last count."

The small group congratulated her loudest of all, the three ladies patting her back and kissing her cheek.

"Well I guess we have our winner!" Michael said as he and Ron ushered us into the bedroom.

Stacie looked at me seductively, her dark sensuous eyes captivating me as she climbed up on the bed and spread her legs seductively. Her body was a mess, awash in slick sticky cum, seeping from her pussy and glistening on her flat belly. I could see streaks in her dark hair and streams dripping down her long tanned legs.

I knelt between her slick thighs, her hands guiding my head to her predatory slit. I resisted slightly as I thought about the other men whose seed she had taken but she pressed insistently.

"Don't be a pussy," she chuckled, taunting me. Her dark thatch was shaved into a furry heart leaving her engorged lips bare and glistening with her arousal. Her excited clit peaked out enticingly, pleading to be sucked. I obeyed, kissing her pussy hesitantly at first. But as her flavour enveloped my tongue, the heady mix of an aroused woman and her lovers' cum, my lust overcame my uncertainties and I began to drink Stacie in, her soft lips meshing with mine as I struggled to suck her clean.

The taste of her many lovers was strong, their cum salty and bitter as it coated my face. Stacie cooed with pleasure, her slender fingers tugging at my hair as I lapped it from her coated belly and legs. Her hips rose up to press her saturated flesh into my mouth, her lust seemingly having no bounds. I sucked at her thrusting mound ferociously, feeding her desire it seemed with every penetration. My tongue delved deep into her, her mouth wanting and willing for the warm soft pleasure. After many long moments of arduous ecstasy Stacie pulled me on top of her and held my face with both hands, kissing me intensely, her strong pink tongue licking the sperm from my face as if it were the sweetest nectar. I could only react to her fervent kiss, embracing her attacking tongue as she savoured the taste of herself.

"Fuck me," she begged throatily, nearly growling as she began to turn her self over beneath me, "fuck me in my slutty little ass."

Sliding my cock along her cunt until it glistened with her juice, I probed her tight asshole quickly with my thumb, lubing it up and preparing it for penetration. After a couple quick thrusts, I shoved my cock roughly into her. She cried out, her hands gripping the covers as I started to rock into her brutally.

"God I love it there," she growled as I thrust into her, "fuck me harder!"

I drove into her harder, her tight ring pinching my cock erotically. I was finding it harder and harder to keep from coming. I had never been so turned on. Stacie lay on her knees beneath me, her ass projecting up against my hips as I ground into her beautiful bottom. The pained look on her face was exquisite, her mouth cursing with lust as she thrust back against me. For those few moments it was only Stacie and I, the crowed gathered around us disappeared and the only thing I knew in the world was the mounting ecstasy between us, everything else was a blur. At that moment she was the most perfect creature ever created, the feeling was unreal. Stacie looked back at me, her eyes dark with desire. They swallowed me and in that instant I knew she felt it to. We came together, her rhythmic contractions drawing forth my climax, my prick bursting within her unyielding ass. She whimpered in uncontrollable delight as her hole clenched around me, enhancing my overwhelming bliss. My skin felt like it was erupting with pleasure, slowly burning away leaving a magnificent tingling sensation in its place.

Stacie lay beneath me, panting as her orgasm burned out every so slowly. I pulled out, her gaping hole leaking my opaque seed, and laid down beside her. Her face was beautiful, sensuous and sweet. Her dark hair was mussed, tendrils hanging down across her tan round face. Her fingers danced lazily across my face as she smiled at me, delicious satisfaction reflected in her eyes.

"Not bad," she said. Her voice was sweet and soothing and implied she was much more impressed than she let on.

"We should try it again some time." I replied, still lost the dark sea of her absorbing eyes.

"Are you asking me out," she moved closer, her voice a little more hushed, "because if you are I accept."

I just smiled at her, enjoying the feel of her next to me. It had been an incredible birthday.

+++++++++++The Darkwater Collection+++++++++++

This is an original work by Lance DeLonge and cannot be copied or reposted without permission of the author. If posted to news group or yahoo group, be sure to include author's name, email, and website address. Darkwaters: The Erotic Fiction of Lance DeLonge -this story and more, plus poems, pics, and links to tons of free erotica. Note: this story takes place in a fantasy world where vaccines against AIDS and pregnancy are safe and common, and casual sex with strangers is not suicidally stupid. The real world, sadly, is not like this: so don't try this at home, kids.



How I Met My Wife



It was still very dark outside when the radio alarm went off in its usual noisy way. It need not have bothered, I was not asleep. In fact, I had not slept much that entire night, and it had been late when I turned in. Today was going to be an interesting day. That was an understatement. I was preparing to drive out to a small Western Kansas town to meet someone I had been corresponding with through email. 

I was excited, no doubt about that. I raced through a shower, grabbed up a few things and headed out the door. I had fueled up the car the night before, but I still stopped by the Quick trip store for some coffee. Then I headed for the entrance ramp and headed north. 

So down the road I went. So much to think about, and I was not totally sure how I felt about the whole thing. Writing to a person was one thing, meeting them was something else. I had been around the internet world long enough to know people can be just about anything they want to in chat rooms and through email. You really didn't know what was real and what was phony. I was taking a chance, but then so was she. I can't imagine how she must have felt. She had a stranger en-route to her house, coming from miles away, and what did she really know about him? I guess we were both in it pretty deep. I would not have blamed her one bit if I arrived and found her to be gone, or even hiding out, having changed her mind. 

I am sure we were both asking ourselves the same questions. Why am I doing this, am I nuts? What if they don't like me or think I am ugly....what if I don't like them and think they are ugly? Will we find it as easy to talk in person? Will either of us be disappointed and if so, what is the graceful way out? I drove on through the rain, a mix of emotions. Think about it, we'd been writing love letters back and forth! We had not even been writing each other that long, had never met, spoken on the phone maybe twice, and we were writing love letters? We had gotten to know each other in a very different way. It was not based on physical attraction, because we had no idea what each other looked like. We had only spoken on the phone once or twice, and then very briefly. So what we felt towards each other was based on personalities, and the only clues we had towards that had been through email. 

Thoughts rolled through my head. We had written and spoken of our love for each other, each saying they didn't care what the other looked like. Did we really feel that way or was it just a bunch of emotional talk? I wanted to think I was not such a shallow person that I would have gone back on my words if she turned out to be...shall we say....not very attractive. What would I do if I got there and she was some 300 lb nightmare? I had fallen in love with a person through email, basing that feeling on her personality and values. Would I be so shallow to back out on mere appearance? 

What about her? She had said the same things about me. She didn't know what I looked like. Was she the sort of person who would back out on appearance? I can't imagine the pain of talking love with someone for weeks on end, and then have them turn you away because you didn't meet their "looks" requirements. It was a hard question and I didn't know if I could examine myself honestly enough to answer it. I am sure she was wrestling with some of the same questions. . I still had several hours before I would be at my destination. Plenty of time left for me to think, dream, anticipate, dread, worry....all of the above. 

Had I been true to myself through those emails? Had I been totally honest and not mis-repesented myself? I could not think of any way that I had been less or more than who I really am, but what had she perceived me to be? Would she really be what I perceived her to be?

Now, it may sound like I over-analyze everything. But I had just been through a marriage that grew very painful towards the end. That was mostly behind me now, in fact, I was actually glad and relieved that it was over. I had given everything I had to turn things around, with no success. I didn't realize what a strain I had been under, till after it was over. It became a relief, and it felt like a huge weight had fallen off of me, and I was not going to get in a position to be tormented like that again. 

One does walk away with scars though from any sort of painful, hurtful experience. I also knew she would have her scars as well. We both had baggage from our past experiences that did affect the way we felt and looked at things. We all have our own "filter" through which we pass and process everything through. Sometimes our "filter" which is set in place and controlled by our experiences in life, will change or modify those things we pass through it. We weigh everything against what we have "learned" through the things that hurt or helped us. Because of this, people misread each other's words, thoughts and intents. Both of us would have our own preconceived ideas, and we would not even know we had them and were measuring everything by them. Both of us coming from failed marriages, would have different things that we had and were dealing with, and would go into a new relationship with those things having an influence. 

It was also true that this situation had gotten a bit out of control. It went very quickly from being "friends" to out and out love letters. It seemed a bit crazy, and yet...it seemed somehow......ok. It was confusing to me and it went against everything I thought I believed. It went against every barrier and protection system I had setup. I felt I was "jumping" into something, and it went against my natural senses of caution...and at the same time something was telling me that this was ok and was right. I struggled to remember just how it went from point a to point b, but it happened so fast.

In my mind I went over and over the conversations we had had by email. I had printed out all of our correspondence before going on my trip to Texas, and had put them in order and read and re-read them. I had speculated so many times on what she would look like, and the sort of person she would be. I am sure she had done the same, looking for clues about me, trying to read between the lines to find out who I really was. 

Marriage.....was this really in my future with this person? How could I have already talked about marriage with her? My kids didn't know...they'd have thought me totally nuts if they had known I had already bought her a ring. Maybe I was nuts. I had asked myself hundreds of times...."Are you sure you aren't just doing this because you are lonely?" Well, maybe...but somehow there seemed to be much more to it than that. When I started writing to her, it was through a penpal website. I really was not looking for a girlfriend, but rather a girl friend. Just someone to write to, someone who had been through the same sort of junk and also needed a friend.

I finally reached the turn, now I had less then 50 miles to go. Coming into some little small town, I was in need of gas. I turned into some small ragged looking mom and pop convenience store and filled up and got a soft drink. Little did I know that while I had picked up gas, I had also picked up a nail in my tire. 

I finally reached the little town. I reached for the email to see if I could figure out the directions she had given. It was not much of a town, just a tired and worn out little place that had never been anything and never would. You found yourself wondering how it ever came to be and how it had managed to stay alive. Picture the brightest spot in the universe, this place was as far away from that spot as you could get.

The directions I had been given weren't the clearest....I drove about for a bit until I finally figured them out. It was a small enough town that I could have just gone up and down every street if I'd had to, and it still would not have taken long. She lived in an apartment complex. It was a multi-unit complex, a facility for low income families. That didn't matter. Even though I owned my own home, it was nothing to brag about. A small, cheap, rundown brick home in a neighborhood full of homes that all looked the same. So this was no big deal. A place to live is a place to live. You do what you can and what you have to and try to make it home.

I parked in front, which actually turned out to be behind, as you had to walk around the building to get to the front door, and there was no back door I knocked on the door and she answered and invited me in. I had some flowers with me that I had picked up the night before. It seems a little silly now. But I had wanted it to be special, and so far, it had not gone quite the way I expected. Now, in saying that, I might add that I didn't know what to expect, this was the first time I had ever done anything like this. You paint all sorts of images and scenarios of what "could" happen. But for the most part you are going into it blind and even a bit scared, and at times you wonder why in the world you got yourself into something so crazy and unknown. But curiosity eventually gets the better of fear and you press on. 

So here we are, 2 people who had been writing love letters back and forth for some time. We occupied our evenings chatting through email. It would have been so much easier if we'd have had access to a chat-room, but I did not have that sort of internet access, and had my own personal reasons for hating chat-rooms. We knew each other and were strangers at the same time. It was almost easier when the person on the other end was a mystery. You had to keep reminding yourself that this was the person on the other end. Somehow, you missed the contact you had developed through e-mail, as this was the only way you had known the person before. It was so different when they were just words on a page. Your own imagination filled in the rest of the blanks and you want on from there. It felt so strange....so different....

But this was no longer imagination, this was real and it was right here and now. She opened the door, we were both nervous, and she invited me in, trying to tell me how sorry she was about the earlier experience. I told her it was ok and resolved to put the entire incident behind me and find try to live in the right now instead. 

I had told her on the phone before leaving home, that I was going to kiss her when I walked through the door. That seemed so natural then, I mean, we had been writing love letters back and forth and talking marriage. But what I thought would be so easy and natural then was not so easy now. Then, it was words on a screen and a voice on a phone. It was real and it wasn't. Now I was looking face to face with a total stranger who was not a stranger. Make sense out of that if you can. I decided to kiss her just as I had planned. I think it took her by surprise, as she really didn't kiss me back...and it didn't last long...and I think we both felt a bit uncomfortable when it was over. It was one of those things that I found myself wishing I would not have done...at least right away. 

We made small talk, and I told her of some food I had brought, that needed to come out of the car. She walked back to the car with me and I noticed that I had a tire going flat. Yep...I remembered a small mom and pop gas station I had pulled into a ways before coming into her town. I bet I picked it up there. I quickly changed the tire to the donut spare, and she told me of a place I could get it fixed. We had to hurry though, as they would close in just a few hours and then it would be Monday before I could get it worked on. 

She had arranged it so that I would be staying at the home of some friends of hers. I had intended to stay at a motel, but they insisted I stay with them and save the money. It made me a bit uncomfortable, but I did need to conserve some funds.. We took my clothes over to their house. Theye seemed friendly enough, and showed me the room I could use and told me to make myself at home. 

We went back to her place which was right across the street. She had prepared an egg, cheese and sausage casserole, and we ate lunch together. After lunch I went and sat on the couch while she put everything away and then she came and sat down beside me.

Now what happened next is still foggy in my mind. I am not sure I can recap it, as it happened so fast and was totally unplanned by either of us. To this very day, almost 8 years later, I can't quite put it all together. Here is what happened next as best as I can recall. 

We had finished our lunch, and I was sitting on the couch. We had continued to talk about this and that, just trying to get more comfortable with each other. She came over and sat on the couch beside me, and we continued to talk. We held hands for a little bit, then she leaned forward and kissed me. Now this was a different kiss than our first one. On the first one, I kissed her and she more or less allowed it. But now...it was not her kissing me. It was a bit awkward, but then it changed. It was not me kissing her or her kissing me...we were kissing each other....this was mutual...this was shared. This kiss had passion in it. 

That passion began to build, it was beginning to consume both of us and we started to be come lost in each other. Both of us had months of pent up loneliness and desire. The events unfolding now had not been part of either of our plans, but neither of us made a move to stop it. I don't think either of us could have stopped it, and maybe, just maybe, it would not have been right to stop it. 

The passion built and grew. The kisses were hot and passionate as were the caresses. We began to French kiss and each of us received a hickey or two. We were kissing hot and heavy, like two teen-agers on prom night. We were totally lost in each other. Time didn't exist...our towns...our jobs... ....our kids....our failed marriages.....our failures...our fears....financial struggles...and the empty days and nights....all were overpowered and cast aside by the love and passion that had engulfed us. The only thoughts on our minds was each other and the joy and excitement we were feeling. The rest of the world didn't exist, and we could not have asked for more.

We slid down on the couch, lying beside each other, locked in an embrace, kissing and caressing each other. No words were spoken, none were needed. After a long while, I gently ran my hand over the front of her blouse, lightly touching her breast, and even through the fabric I could feel her erect nipple. I began to gently squeeze one breast while running my mouth and lips over the other. I could feel her nipple on my lips, and it was driving me wild. I think it was having the same effect on her too. 

The kissing and caressing continued...all sense of time was lost. We were hopelessly lost in each other now, and we were heading down the first hill of a giant roller coaster and picking up speed. There would be no stopping or turning back...I think maybe we both knew that....and somehow we didn't care. 

I began to slowly unbutton her blouse. Everything inside of me screamed, "What are you doing! This isn't supposed to be happening...stop now...get up and go across the room...tell her you're sorry.....she's going to think you are a big phony! You're going to blow the best thing you have ever had!!" I could not believe this was happening! I could not believe I was actually doing this. But somehow I just could not stop. I expected her to recoil away from me as one by one the buttons came undone....I expected her to pull away and demand that I get out and never come back....but she didn't say a thing....or make any attempt to stop me....in fact...she seemed to want what was happening as much as I did. 

What if she had protested? I would have been mortally embarrassed, and would have never been able to make her believe that this was the farthest thing from my mind when I planned this visit. I would have went home ashamed and feeling like a complete jerk and a failure. Yes, I had planned to kiss her...but not this...this was out of control...I had never allowed myself to get out of control like this before. This was not like me at all....why couldn't I stop.....why didn't she stop me...us....our roller coaster was picking up speed...and we were enjoying the ride. There was no getting out of the car now. 

Her blouse was now unbuttoned and open....I began to kiss the areas of her breasts left exposed by her bra...I ran my lips over her bra...pulling at her nipple through the fabric...I slipped one hand under her bra and gently felt her breast, and caressed her nipple. Everything in her actions told me that it was ok...if she didn't like what was happening...she made no indication. It had gone too far now....I couldn't stop...I didn't want to stop....and I was not sure she wanted me to. 

What about her, what was going through her mind? Did she ever want to stop? Had she had thoughts herself about getting up and stopping everything? Did she worry about what sort of girl I would think she was? 

Or was she afraid to stop me, afraid that this "stranger" would get violient and take what he seemed to want, by force. Did she think that she was in more danger to stop me than to just allow it to happen? Did she worry about getting pregnant? I can't believe I didn't worry about that....but for whatever reason, neither of us tried to stop or hinder the other. 

I kept kissing her and reached behind her and undid the fastener of her bra. then slowly raised it up, exposing her breasts. They were beautiful, the prettiest and sweetest little breasts that I had ever seen and I had to tell her that. They were small, only a "A' sized cup, but pert and so firm and beautiful.I though they were a perfect size. I caressed one and began to suck on the other, pulling her nipple hard into my mouth. She began to arch her back to push them even deeper, as if trying to press her entire breast into my mouth. She grabbed my head with her hands and pulled me tight and hard against her breast. I sucked them hard and with passion, rolling the nipple of her other breast between my fingers. I pulled hard on each nipple with my lips, and sucked it and licked it. It was one of the most wonderful experiences I had ever had. 

I continued to kiss and suck and caress both breasts, and finally pulled off her blouse and bra and tossed them on the floor. She lay there topless before me with those two gorgeous breasts, which I devoted my full attention to. We kissed deeply as I rubbed and squeezed her breasts and played with her nipples. I ran my mouth and tongue over every inch of them. I was lost in the delights before me, and I wanted her like I had never wanted anyone before. 

I was sucking hard on one of her nipples, and reached down and undid the snap to her jeans....and pulled her zipper down. I slid my hand inside her panties and began to caress her moist pussy. I felt her legs open up, making it easier for me to reach her. We were totally enwrapped in each other...passion had us in a tight grasp....and nothing was going to stop us...we weren't going to let it. It seemed that by now both of us knew where it was going....and neither of us was making a move to change that course. 

I kissed her, kissed each breast, then rose from the couch and walked around to the other end. She lay there on her back, and I took hold of the end of her jeans and pulled them off. Then I reached down and slowly removed her panties. I kept those panties and still have them. She was now totally nude before me, and one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. Her pussy was beautiful, and seemed to be begging for attention. 

I quickly removed my clothes and began to rub her all over. If there had been any question as to how far this was going to go, the answer was clear now. By this point, all the alarms going off in my head telling me to stop had pretty much been silenced. I was totally lost in my desire for this person. Somehow it seemed right....how could it be right....but it felt right....it felt good....it felt natural.....as if we had known each other for years.....we had already talked marriage......she didn't know it yet....but I had already bought a ring......I guess we were going to have the honeymoon before the wedding. I guess I felt some regret about that....this should have been our honeymoon night....all the newness and joy and passion.... But those thoughts were not in my head at this moment....hardly....nothing from the outside world was in my head....nothing else existed.....just her and I. 




How I Met My Wife



When they ask, I tell people that I met my wife on the internet. I'm sure they assume it was on a dating site. But the full story is much more interesting, how she came to own me and how I came to worship her as my wife. 

I'd been single off-and-on for a long time. 28 years old. I had a decent job in engineering. I've had a few good girl friends, but nothing really clicked. A couple of the relationships had turned physical, but mostly just a few dates, dinner conversations, and then there'd be something that didn't work between us and we'd fade away from each other. 

I'd been working out the past few months, and my libido was running hot though my love life was not. With no one to share it with I found myself becoming a loyal fan of some on-line porn and erotica sites. Though I'm straight and pretty vanilla, I found myself drawn to certain stories and situations. One of the sites I kept going back to had a strong woman theme. It wasn't exactly femdom. But the site's photos and video clips were full of hot women in control of their men. They'd make them serve them, edge them, and leash them. 

Now it was April, a Saturday afternoon and I was all alone at the apartment. I was cruising the internet with my cock in my hand when I came across several photos of a red-haired woman. You couldn't see her whole body or face in any of the photos, but I could tell she was older, maybe 30. A great real body, tall and lean, but not like a model or a 19-year old kid. Something about her just said "real". Real hips, real breasts, a wrinkle or two around the corners of her mouth. She had strong hands and beautiful shoulders that captivated me. 

In each photos, she was with a different man. In one she had him kneeling, a leash around his neck, her high-heeled shoes on his shoulders as he tongued her pussy and her asshole. I couldn't see her face in that photo, just a few wisps of her red hair over the top of her corset. 

In the second photo, I could see those hands, strong and sensual. One had two fingers inserted up to the knuckles in a man's ass. The other hand encircled his testicles and the shaft of his cock. She was pulling hard, but it didn't look painful, just on the edge of that. One of her breasts was visible, with just the top of a nipple showing above her camisole top, and again a few whisps of that lovely red hair.

In the third photo, she was wearing a strapon, and her man was face down on the carpet in a beautiful room. She had her strapon buried up to the hilt in his ass. His face was turned side-ways and I couldn't quite tell if he was moaning or screaming. He was muscular and his hands were tied behind his back. He was wearing a garter belt and fishnet thigh-highs. She was similarly dressed, but with black fuck-me boots, a black corset, and a thong visible beneath the straps holding her cock in place.

The photos came from a tumblr site. I clicked on it, and went to her web site. It wasn't a big site. To my dismay it only had about twelve photos in all. They were similar to the others I'd just seen, and all wonderful. But none of them showed her full face or body. 

At the top of the site she had a small bio. She said "I need a real man to play with. I want a strong loving man that can hold me while I curl up safe in his arms. But I want a man who can also be my sissy bitch. If this site is still up, I haven't found him yet. Email me"

On a lark I said, "what the hell"....I typed out a quick email to her address. I said "I'm a 28-year old professional. I'm single and fit. Your site captivated me and I'd love to meet you, or at least chat with you some time. Here are a few photos of me. I look forward to hearing from you...Robert" Then I finished masturbating, and hopped in the shower. 

I thought nothing more of if for about a week. But late Thursday night I was just about to go to bed when I noticed an email in my spam-blocker with her site name in the address. I moved it to my inbox and opened it. 

Sure enough it was from the redhead. She had included a picture in the email that I recognized from the site. It was of her chin, neck and chest. She was wearing a green top that showed her collar bone and cleavage, and her hands were playing with her red hair...The text of the email grabbed my attention. 

"Robert. Thank you for your email. I'd like to learn more about you. You see I am very particular in my tastes, and there's something about you that interests me. I'm looking for just the right man. This is not a casual thing. I'm looking for someone for real. I need a man to own. A man who will give himself over to me fully. A man who I can serve when I like and who will take care of me. But I also need a man who I can control at my whim. When I desire it, I will dress him up and make him my play thing. I like to play rough and I need a man who will do what I ask of him. Most men are boys, and they only go so far. If you're a real man and you'd like to be truly owned by me, then answer the questions below and write me back. If you think this is a game, don't write"

I answered the questions. They were mostly about me, my job, where I lived, etc.. A few were a little more intimate, but nothing racy. Just questions about my past relationships, my current status, my basic sexuality. Still thinking it more of a game, I typed out the answers to the questions. I attached a few more pictures, of my place, my dog, my family...Then I hit send. 

She wrote back the next evening. She said "Thank you for answering my questions, and thank you for the additional pictures. You definitely interest me. I've included a few more photos of me. I hope you like them. Please send me some more of you, and don't be so shy this time"

The first photo she sent included one of her pink wet pussy opened up, her fingers holding it open. It looked smooth and delightful. I could see tops of thigh-highs but nothing else...The other photo showed her legs and ass, and just a little bit of her mound. She was wearing a mini skirt and white stockings. Not exactly a school girl outfit, but hot.

I wasn't sure, but I assumed that she meant for me to take some pictures of my body naked and send those to her. I said "what the hell". I dropped my shorts and tried a few different selfie shots. I felt stupid, but it was exciting all the same. My cock was still hard from the effects of her photos, so I tried a few different angles and finally picked two that I liked. One highlighted the muscles in my legs and ass. The other was more of a cock shot. If I was wrong, then she'd probably gross out and stop writing. But I was pretty sure this was what she wanted me to do. 

I was just about to close down my computer when she wrote back. All she said was "Hmmm...I just may have to put you through a few paces after all...write me tomorrow"...I guess she liked my selfies. 

When I emailed her the next day, she asked me for my phone number. I gave it to her, and she rang me directly. What followed was the best conversation of my life. We talked for about 2 hours. Nothing about sex. Just life, what we were doing, where we were going. We said good night, but I was in no mood to go to sleep. I wanted to meet this woman; I wanted her here with me now. 

In the morning she emailed me some instructions. She said she wanted me to send her a couple of pictures and videos during the day. Nothing over-the-top. The first was a video of me drinking a cup of coffee in the morning, but she wanted me naked and with a hard-on. The second was a picture of me in my office, with my pants down around my knees. 

Of course I complied. It seemed like a game, but it was fun. It was playful. And I was getting off on it. When I sent her my emails, she replied with an email containing a clip of her hands sliding up and down her hips, and then diving into her pussy, no clothes in sight...The sound quality was excellent and I could hear the wetness as she played with herself.

Over the next few months things escalated. We talked frequently. Not every night, but several times a week. In between she'd email me and give me tasks to do. She said she wanted to see whether I would follow-through and make her happy. She said that she needed to know I would take care of her, not let her down like they boys before me...It was clear that there was much more ahead, and I was excited by the challenge.

With some of her tasks she seemed to be probing my sexual mind. She'd direct me to watch certain things on the web, and tell her about them. Men in lingerie. Men in chastity. Women in control. Men pushed into humiliating situations. I did my best to tell her the truth, though to be honest it was hard sometimes. How do you tell someone you really like that your cock hardened when she sucked him off and then pushed his cum into his mouth with a sloppy French kiss? I just did it...hoping my answers would please her.

We had been "dating" like this for three months, and it never really bothered to me that I still didn't know her real name, or what she looked like, or even where she lived. She said she was from the Cleveland area, but that was about all I could get out of her. I knew she was between 30 and 35 and single, though still promiscuous. Sometimes she would described to me the other boys she was playing with, particularly when and how they displeased her. When they did she would cast them aside, like broken toys. I was pleased, because I'd already gotten farther in my "examination" than many of them. 

At this point there were so many things I'd done for her. For example, she made me purchase panties and lingerie and model them for her. At first she had me buy them on-line. But later she made me go into the store myself. Finally she made me tell the salesgirls exactly why I was there. She even had me pass the phone to her so She could ask the salesgirl what she thought I'd look good in when I was down on my knees, feasting on her pussy...At first it was humiliating. But really the salesgirls were very helpful, and the whole experience was very arousing. 

She was also apparently a huge fan of ass play. She had described to me how she enjoyed taking a man's ass with the strapon. She'd put a vibrating bead in her pussy beneath the harness and pound away until She came herself. She liked the power of it, and she liked the way the man made grunts and groans while she pounded him...She instructed me to buy various toys to work my ass, first dildos and then plugs, bigger and bigger. She trained me to prepare myself for a play session, and then she'd have me Skype with her while I fucked my own ass on camera. Sometimes she'd have me dress up like a girl. Sometimes she wanted to see me get fucked dressed – or undressed - like a man. She always made me tell me what I was thinking, what I was feeling. 

Probably the most embarrassing things she had me do were those out in public. A few times she had me dress partly or fully in women's clothes (by now I had several full outfits, a wig, high-heeled boots, and jewelry) and get out into the neighborhood. It started small, walking around in the early morning, stealing newspapers off people's porches. Then driving to a neighboring City, and pumping gas along the way. Finally, she actually had me go to a local gay bar. She required me to drink three drinks, and required me to talk to at least two gay men and one transvestite. She had me pass the phone to the other transvestite, and she asked for advice about how I could improve my outfit. 

Chastity started to work itself into the mix as well. Apparently this was the ultimate control thrill for her. To deprive a man of his release, and then to play with him until he started to melt under the pressure. She asked me if I'd lock up my cock for her, but of course I knew it wasn't a question – it was a command. By this time I was in love with this strange woman, and my answer was just "Yes. Just tell me how.". 

She had me measure my cock, a bunch of different ways. She said she had a craftsman that builds BDSM equipment and that I'd be pleased with the device he was going to make for me. When it arrived, she had me Skype her so she could walk me through the process of putting it on. It was stainless steel, and had a shaft that would go into my urethra (ouch!). It was clearly well built and probably expensive. It had a ring that went around my balls, and they could only drop through one at a time. Then my cock had to be squished through. Finally, the top part had to be coaxed onto my cock. We had to stop a while so my arousal faded and we could complete the process. She explained that the discomfort associated with putting it on, and getting the shaft into my cock would go away after a few times, and I'd get used to it. 

She was right. Though initially uncomfortable, the chastity cage quickly became just a part of my wardrobe. I'd put it on when instructed, and wear it a day, or two, or three. She'd tell me when to put it on, and would have me keep the key at home in a jar. She clearly understood chastity play, because each day after putting it on, she'd push me farther and farther in our little games. By day 4 I'd have a hard time focusing on work, and all I wanted to do was to have her talk dirty to me, and tease me. Often in this state she'd make me fuck my ass until cum started to leak from my cock. She taught me to milk myself in this way, and then to eat my own cum for her. It was wildly erotic, and the chastity somehow made me crave the ass fucking and enjoy the sensation like never before. 

I was starting to think that our relationship was going to stay just as it was. That I'd never meet her, or get to touch her. To be honest, I'd sort of come to accept that. She was there for me when I needed her, and I felt owned. She knew my hopes and dreams, and also my darkest fantasies. She'd taken me places that I'd never have gone to on my own, and I'd enjoyed it. I loved her training, and what she did to me for her pleasure. I'd collected several dozen videos that she had sent me of her body in various states of arousal, including several shaking convulsive orgasms. It felt to me like I was there with her...but still I didn't know who she was. 

One day out of the blue she said that it was time for me to come see her in person. She told me that this was not something that I should take lightly, as there would be some tests that she was going to put me through. I'd apparently convinced her that I was ready for the next level, though I had no idea what that meant. I was nervous, but nothing would have made me say "no". Basically I jumped at the chance. 

She told me what airline ticket to buy. It was 3 weeks away, and it was a terrible flight. Three different stops just to get to Cleveland, and it was a red-eye that started and ended in rush hour. There was no return flight. She said that the return would depend on my behavior before and during our visit. She warned me to please her in everything that I did.

I was a little surprised when she told me to mail her the key to my chastity device. She didn't ask me to do it. She just told me to. She gave me a PO Box number in Cleveland to send it to. I asked how I'd get through airport security with a metal device on my cock. She laughed at that and said it was part of the games she had in store for me. With the route she'd given me, I'd have to go through security not once, but three different times – twice during rush hour. She watched me (on Skype) put on the device and seal the envelope. She said she'd call me again once she'd received the key. 

Five long days later she called me. I answered her questions and told her how I was feeling. The five days without any communication with her were terrible. I felt alone and stupid. Why was I doing this? At day 3 I'd even thought about cutting off the lock and dropping the whole idea. I told her all this, and in response she told me "you've been such a good boy. I'm very proud of you. I'm going to push you so much farther, but I'm confident that you are up to the challenge. I think you've fallen in love with me." I admitted that yes, I was in love, and I needed her. I didn't know who she was, but I loved her all the same. 

Over the next two weeks, she worked me into a frenzy and teased me about the things she might do to me in Cleveland. She had me make a few more travel arrangements, and she gave me some landmarks where we would be meeting up. I did my best to try and figure out where she lived, using those landmarks and everything I knew to date about her. But I couldn't really figure anything out. 

Well, after two strip searches (by the third airport, I was in the database already as "pervert with a steel chastity device" so they didn't search me, they just laughed at me) and a long night of travel I arrived at my destination. It was a nice little restaurant, sort of Italian. I sit down at the table in the center as instructed. It had a "reserved" sign on it, and two place settings. 

I'd expected to see a red-haired woman walk through the front door, and I drove myself crazy looking for her. But after about 20 minutes, the waitress (nice looking woman, around 30 years old) comes by and asks how I'm doing and if I was expecting anyone else. I told her my name and said that yes, there would be one other person. At that, she smiled and handed me an envelope. It had a key inside...not just any key, but the key to my chastity device. Just as she walked away my phone rang.

It's She. She says that describes the pleasure it's given her that I've come this far. She had me describe in detail my experiences getting through security. I gave her the long version, describing in particular the way it felt to have the metal-detector wand beep as it went across my groin, the look on the faces of the TSA staff when I had to explain what it was...and then again, the whole time with the travelers in the line watching me wondering what was taking so long. 

After I finished my stories of my travels, she explained that we were not going to meet here in the restaurant. Rather, I was going to prepare myself, and then she wanted me to walk to the park which was about ten blocks away. I was about to say OK, when she explained the rest of it. She said that in the women's bathroom there was a small overnight bag. I was to take the key to the bathroom, remove my clothes, take off the chastity device and then open the suitcase. I was to dress fully in what she'd provided and then return to the table for further instructions. 

I do so. So dressed fully in heels, fishnets, a mini skirt, a silky blue bra and a white top, I'd put on the perfume and done what I could to fix my hair. I wished that I'd had an opportunity to shave, because I was sporting an obvious 5-o'clock shadow. I felt stupid, but for the first time in weeks, my cock was rock hard and straining in my panties. Back at the table, my waitress brought me some wine – she said it was on the house. I had a glass, and then another waiting for my phone to ring.. 

When She called, I was instructed to reach under the table. There taped to the table bottom was a set of handcuffs and a blindfold. I was told to bring them with me and walk to the public park nearby. The whole way there, rolling my little overnight bag, I was looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of red hair...from a window, from behind a tree, walking by and glancing...I say several red-heads, but none with that whispy hair that I knew so well. I knew the shade, the shape, the way it blew in the wind. I knew her shape and her approximate height (about 5'6" to 5'8"). Looking for her helped me not be so self-conscious about being dressed up like a tranny slut mid-day in the middle of town. I got quite a few glances and some "shake my head" responses, but really all I could think about was meeting her, and getting to that park. 

I got to the park without any real trouble. Once there it took me a while to find the spot that she'd described. It was a tree behind a bench, overlooking a pond. She had described it perfectly, and so I was sure it was the place. Red bench, tree with the yellow leaves, the pond looking across to the city buildings.




How I Met My Wife



Just as I sat down, the phone rings. "Good sissy slut...you're aching aren't you?...how long has it been?"

"Three weeks since I last came...and 114 days since I first met you. I'm really excited to meet you." 

"I know my sissy. I've had so much fun with you. I think you deserve a reward...that's why I've brought you here"

"Thank you Princess...now what do you want me to do?"

"Behind you is the tree with the yellow leaves. First stand up and hide your bag behind that bush on the right so no one takes it. Then take off your panties. Make sure your cock is hard. Then put on the blindfold, and handcuff yourself to that tree, with your arms behind you"

"But..."

"Do as I say... You should know that by now. "

"Yes...I will do as instructed." I do as she said. And soon I'm there, blindfolded. I can feel the breeze playing with balls under my skirt. The fresh air is cold but my cock is rock hard and jutting out like a flag-pole. Fortunately the skirt was long enough to cover it, sort of getting wrapped around it from the left, or the right with the breeze, but never totally exposing me. 

I was standing there like that for what felt like days. It was probably 30-45 minutes, but I couldn't really say. With the blindfold on, I just stood there listening. Waiting to hear her voice, or her footsteps. 

Several times people walked by. Each time they'd walk up and ask me if I was all right. I had to explain to them that I was supposed to be there and that I was meeting "my wife". It was presumptuous of me to lie like that. But I couldn't explain that I was meeting "a woman with red hair that I didn't really even know, even though she was humiliating me and controlling my in this way". I'd blurted out "wife" the first time without even thinking, but the third time I said it, I knew it was what I wanted. Each person just laughed. Some called me a pervert before the walked off. But one said, "I wish my wife would play games with me like this...good luck buddy". 

After an eternity like that, I heard the clicking of some heels. These grabbed my attention like none of the others. I could hear them on the sidewalk...coming, then stopping. Coming then stopping. Like someone appreciating a painting in a museum. Like they wanted to see it from different angles. The steps were coming closer, then stopping and looking again. 

By the time she spoke I knew beyond a doubt who it was. There was something about the heels that I recognized, from one of her videos that she had sent me. In that one she was wearing a green and black outfit, and she carried a riding crop. It was a short video, and nothing really happened in it, but I'd watched it a hundred times. I'd cum to it over and over again, like all the others. 

Her steps came toward me, and then it was quiet. She'd disappeared where the sidewalk ended...I waited, and then all of a sudden there She was, her breathy voice right in my ear. 

She asked me if I loved her. I said "Yes. I love you like I've never loved anyone before, and like I never will again. I'm just so happy to be here."

She said "You have done well. You please me with how far you are willing to go for me. You are obviously more than just a boy...I like that"....Then I feel her hand on my thigh. It inches closer to my cock. She kisses my neck...and then she bites me there. Tenderly, but clearly a bite. I don't think it left a mark on my skin, but I could feel what she intended.

Then her left hand cups my balls, while her right hand grabs the back of my head. She pulls my face toward hers and locks me in a deep French kiss. Her tongue probes my mouth as her left had squeezes my balls. It's almost but not quite painful, and I'm lost in her kiss. For the first time I get to smell her, and feel her. Her wispy hair is now on my face, and tickling my neck. I can hear the little sounds she makes as she breathes in and tastes me. 

The grip on my balls relaxes, and then She moves her hand up. Soon she's stroking my cock. Lightly, deftly like She knows exactly how much I can take before losing myself. I realize that she's done this dozens of times on camera, but using my hand not hers. She edges me expertly, taking me to the brink eight different times. Each time she makes swear my loyalty and my love for her, telling her how she makes me feel. 

While this is going on, several people walk by and ask if anything is the matter. .She stops and tells them EXACTLY what we're doing. She explains that I'm her sissy bitch and that she owns me to do as she pleases, and that this pleases her. They all walk off, saying different things.

After the eight edging, she stepped away from me. I'm still wearing the blindfold and all I know is that she's gone. I can't hear her, see her or smell her anymore. And the wind is cold on my balls and cock again as I listen for her footsteps, or something.... 

All of a sudden, I feel the unmistakable sensation of her mouth on me, enveloping my cock. My whole world now is the sensation of her mouth on my cock. It's warm and wet, and I'm snug in her, feeling her tongue trace each vein, each bump and ridge. 

She's not really sucking. She's more...savoring. Feeling the hardness. Feeling my wanting, my need for her.

The blood is pounding in my head. I know not to ask her to suck me. So all I can do is stand there. I focus on the sensation, how connected we are at that moment. I think of my journey to get to this place. This moment. We stay like that for about ten minutes...Ten glorious minutes. Then, I realize that she's masturbating. I hear the unmistakable sound of her fingers in her pussy. It's wet and sloppy now. 

She still has her mouth on my cock as her fingers dive in and out, and then side to side, rubbing her clit. I know the motions from her videos and I can see it in my mind's eye. Her mouth is still wrapped around my cock, her tongue probing and feeling, but now her mouth is shaking a little bit, and she's moaning...the moans sending a chill down my cock and straight up my spine. 

Finally she takes her mouth of my cock and she screams. She grunts a few times and says "fuck yeah...oh that's good...I needed that, my dirty little bitch"...And then all I can hear is her breathing, panting at first and then quiet and normal. 

I'm still standing there. My cock is now cold...her saliva wet on it, causes me to shiver when the wind blos under my skirt. Despite my arousal, my cock is shrinking from the exposure. That's when I hear her go get my bag from behind the bush. To my horror I hear the metallic sound of my cage.

She tells me that she's not done playing with me. As she locks me back up I say "I understand. I love you. Thank you for playing with me." 

While I'm still chained to the tree and blindfolded, she presses a key in my hand. She says that she can trust me now and that I'm to count to 200 and then unlock myself from the handcuffs. I hear her heels click clack away on the sidewalk. 

21, 22, 23, 24...fuck it I say. I need to see her. I need to know who she is...So I put the key into the lock and turn it...but it doesn't budge. I struggle, and twist and struggle some more. But no- it's not the right key. I say "shit".

I hear the heels stop and turn. She laughs and says "such a naughty boy...you'll pay for that"...The click clack, click clack I listen to her walk away. 

Scared now, I'm not sure where this is going. I'm alone, in a City far from home, dressed like a tranny whore and chained to a tree... My mind starts racing, thinking that maybe I'd fucked up and I'd end up down at the local police station trying to explain what the hell I was doing. 

I'm like that for an hour...or what felt like an hour. That's when I hear a new set of heels. She was not my redheaded Mistress. That I could tell even with the blindfold. But she walked toward me, and then disappeared as she left the sidewalk. 

The first thing I felt was the key in the lock on the handcuffs. She unlocked them and then removed them from my wrists. That's when she took off my blindfold. 

It was the waitress. She smiled a knowing smile, and told me "She is pleased with you,...mostly". I was instructed to fly home now and await further instructions. She handed me a plane ticket and walked off. 

As I flew home, I knew I would marry this woman. But the rest is another story.



How I Met My Wife



This story contains incest.




"Can my sister visit over Thanksgiving?" 

It was our first semester in grad school. Bob and I hadn't known each other very well as undergraduates, mostly from taking the same courses in our major, agreeing to share a flat, when we both were accepted for the grad program in another university. I knew he had a twin sister, but she hadn't been mentioned since we had moved into the flat with two bedrooms just large enough for a bed and desk. 

Sure, his sister could visit him in a couple of weeks – from wherever. I didn't even know her name. Why was he asking me? I shrugged and replied: 

"Sure, of course; why did you ask?" 

"I was wondering if you would mind her staying here." 

I was sitting on the two-seat sofa in the small living room; Bob was sitting on the armchair, both of us were reading a magazine, and had hardly glanced up at each other. More lost in the article I was reading, I asked automatically: "Where?" 

When Bob didn't immediately reply, I suddenly awoke to why he had asked and forgot the article. Where was she going to sleep, for how many nights? I didn't think it would bother me to have girl in the apartment; by then I had slept with a few – whole nights – so it was only a question of where she would sleep. He still hadn't replied. I looked over at him. His face was hidden behind his magazine. 

"Where's she going to sleep?" I asked, recognizing that I was accepting that she would sleep in our little apartment. Was he blushing, when he raised his head from behind the magazine? It was still another moment before he replied: 

"With me, I guess." He was blushing, and corrected himself: 

"I meant in my room, I was assuming," then adding: "We're twins, you know." 

Of course, everyone knew that twins were closer than other siblings, so I didn't have a problem with their sharing a room, but where would she sleep – an air mattress? But there wasn't space on the floor for one, just maybe, if part of it was under the bed. I asked: 

"She has an air mattress?" 

Bob shook his head. I hadn't known that an adult could blush like he was. He looked back at his magazine and murmured: "We have before, you know: twins." 

He could only have meant that they had shared a bed before – a single bed like the ones in our rooms?! I knew what it was like to be in bed with a girl in beds like that. There had only been one reason to be there, and I couldn't imagine that it wouldn't occur to siblings, a male and female lying so close that they had to be aware of each other's body, touching each other, even if they were wearing pajamas or whatever his sister wore in bed. I knew that he just wore boxer shorts. I caught my breath and tried to reply evenly: 

"If you want to; I guess so – twins." 

Bob nodded, looking slightly less embarrassed, and murmured again: "We have before." 

I shrugged, then smiled wryly and said: "I don't think I could with my sister, but I don't have one." 

He also smiled wryly, also shrugging but now looking relieved, and we left the subject at that for the evening and until the weekend before Thanksgiving. I was, however, thinking too often about their sharing his bed. Had it been a big double bed with space enough to keep out of contact, maybe one like in Europe with two sets of covers? That would be fairly easy, but his single bed was not like that, the two of them under one sheet and blanket, like when I had slept with girls. It was very difficult – impossible – for me to imagine that Bob could not be having similar thoughts, and what was his sister thinking? She must be assuming that I must be wondering about their sharing his bed. It was going to be a very curious situation. 

Friday evening before Thanksgiving, we were sharing a six pack. After our second beers, with a wry expression Bob said: 

"I guess you must have been wondering about Deb's coming here. Deb, Deborah." 

"I have been," I agreed, popping the tab of my third beer. 

"She said I should thank you from her for letting her stay here, said that she was looking forward to meeting you." 

"I am too, to meeting her." 

"Said you must be very nice, being so understanding." 

"I'm trying to be: nice, and understanding," I replied, liking that he had mentioned her visit, thinking that it might be only because Deb had said that. 

I took a sip of my fresh beer. Bob took a better one of his. He looked at me, then looked away for a moment, then at me again and took another better one. Then without looking at me he said: 

"She called yesterday and said that I should tell you." 

Tell me what, I wondered, also taking a better sip, waiting for him to continue. He looked at me with a slightly embarrassed expression, raising his eyebrows and taking another sip, then murmured: 

"Said I should tell you the whole story." 

I just nodded. Bob almost emptied his beer, then gave me a very wry smile and said: 

"She's right, you must be wondering about us, that you could only think one thing." 

I nodded slightly with a shrug. Bob suddenly began to chuckle and emptied the little in his can and asked if we didn't have anything else to drink. I said that I thought there was still something in the liter bottle of cognac he had bought duty free when he returned from Europe in the fall. There was. I emptied my can and we got glasses and a made ourselves brandy and sodas, returning to the living room with our glasses and both bottles. We drank, and Bob smirked and told: 

"She's right, you were probably right. For graduation last spring, the parents gave us a trip to Europe, telling us to watch out for each other. For the first week in London, we had reservations for two single rooms. After there, we just played it by ear, had a loose itinerary, finding hotels where we went, asking for two single rooms. In England, I guess the people read our passports better and understood that we were siblings. On the Continent, in hotels they asked if we wanted single rooms, and we explained that we were siblings. How many time did that happen before?" 

Bob took a drink, and I did, now anticipating how they could have shared a bed, but it wouldn't have been one like they were going to share over the long Thanksgiving weekend. He continued: 

"Only a couple, three times I guess. Deb must also have glanced in double rooms that were being cleaned and seen the adjacent twin beds with separate covers. When we were looking for a hotel one evening, she looked at me with funny expression and suggested we could save money by sharing a room. 

"Hmm! I was very apprehensive about asking for a double room, but why not, if she thought we could share one. It was no problem in that hotel. Hm-hmm! Maybe except for the receptionist's smiling as though she thought we were a young couple." 

Bob and I took another drink, both smirking slightly; it was too evident where his story was leading. He hummed with a smile and went on: 

"That was fine, two adjacent beds, separate covers, we being just as discreet as back home about sharing our bathroom. I think the first evening and morning we both felt a little that we were doing something we shouldn't be, but that wore off in the next couple of days in that hotel. In the next town, I was much more nonchalant about asking for a double room, which had the same type of beds. Deb just smiled and said that we were saving money. We were, since hotel bills were a big part of our budget. 

"Of course, we got a little looser about seeing each other in just underwear. Hadn't I seen her in a bikini and she seen me in trunks? She has a nice figure, but I knew that already, and I had seen her at home in a shorty nightgown and bottom. We always changed individually in the bathroom, but got careless about closing the door completely. A few times at breakfast, people smiled at the young American couple, and we smiled back sweetly, then winking at each other. After the first or second time, I did wonder if they saw that and maybe thought our winks were because we had had a good night together, but that thought didn't suggest anything to me." 

Bob took another drink, and I did, and one of us refilled our glasses, as he continued: 

"So that was fine, also in the next couple of hotels. But then in a picturesque small town, after we checked in, we discovered that the bed in the double room was an old-fashioned, one mattress double bed with one set of covers." 

I tried not to grin as I nodded. Bob took a sip of his brandy and soda, so I did. He looked at me with slight smirk and said: 

"Guess you anticipated that that was going to happen." 

I nodded again, not suppressing my grin, and replied: 

"Deb said you should tell me the whole story."

"I guess so, and you can imagine it, anyway. She and I looked at each other quizzically. This had all been Deb's idea, but it didn't seem like she had envisioned this. I certainly had not – after all the hotels with two mattresses. She wrinkled her nose and murmured something like "I guess so," and I must have nodded. We were planning to stay there for two nights, so we unpacked and went out for supper. I remember that we were a little reserved during our meal and agreed to take a walk before returning to the hotel, to our double bed. It was only about half-again as wide as ours here. Seemed like we both were stalling off getting into bed with each other under one set of covers." 

We took a sip of our drinks. I smiled encouragingly for Bob to continue: 

"I seem to remember that we were much more discreet about getting undressed and changing. I told her to go first. Yeah, we were; she kept her blouse on until she was in the bathroom and had closed the door. I had suggested she go first, because I was hoping the lights would be off when I returned in just my boxer shorts. You can imagine why. She was my sister, but the thought of being under the covers with any girl .... Well, you can imagine why, why I also kept my pants on until I was in the bathroom. I turned off everything but the bedside lamp and busied myself with the guide book to avoid looking at her when she returned from the bathroom. 

"When I returned from it, the bedside lamp was off. From the bathroom light, I saw that she was under the covers, turned on her side away from me and uncomfortably close to the other side of the bed. At least, she wasn't going to see that I was finding the situation uncomfortable, if you know what I mean." 

I did and nodded and had a sip, and then Bob did with a wry smile, then asking: 

"Sure you want to whole story?" 

"If she wanted you to tell it to me." 

"Hmm?! Maybe she wasn't thinking I was going to tell it like this." 

"Too good to stop now, and it sounds like you're enjoying recalling and telling as much as I am, listening. Besides, it is too obvious what going to happen, I am just curious how. So tell." 

We both took another sip, and he did: 

"You're right; I am enjoying it, now that I have started, and you know what's going to happen, why it slipped out a couple of weeks ago, when I said 'with me' and began go beet red. So I turned off the light in the bathroom and slipped under the covers behind her, lying on my back, which isn't the way I sleep. This was too ticklish. Something was reminding me that I was lying in bed with a girl. I couldn't dare lie on my side facing her, so I turned to other way. She had to grab the covers to keep me from pulling them back too much. We managed to settle that by both moving a little closer, our asses just touching once and then separating, and we said good night. 

"I lay there wishing we had had a stiff nightcap to make it easier to fall asleep, but eventually I did, and she must have too. Oh, yeah, I remembered that she usually slept on her back. Would have been better if we had been identical twins, one right- the other left-handed, both probably naturally sleeping on different sides." 

"If you had been lying on the sides of the bed to avoid facing each other," I interjected and took a sip. Bob snickered softly with a nod and also took a sip, agreeing: 

"Yes, but we weren't, aren't. Did I wake up, when she rolled back? Not enough to remember that she was my sister. It just was nicely familiar from the couple of nights I had slept with a girlfriend when her parents weren't home. She had had a big bed in her room, and had then moved to roll towards me, and her arm had slid around me. That was what was happening behind me, a girl's arm was sliding around me. 

"Then I was suddenly wide awake, recognizing the foreign scent in the room and realizing that it was Deb's arm around me, her warm body against mine, her thighs drawing up behind mine. Was she awake, knowing she was embracing me like that?! Did she have so much experience sleeping with guys that she could do that without really waking up?! Of course, she must have slept with guys in college, but she couldn't possibly have consciously put her arm around me. I heard her sigh with a soft moan, and then her breathing sounded like she was sleeping again. 

"I wasn't, not with any girl's arm around me, especially my sister's. What was she going to think or do when she woke up like that?! What if it only sounded like she was sleeping, knew her arm was around me? Did girls feel like that down there, like I was, like I did, when I woke up with my arm around a girl and my hand found her breast?"

I took another drink, feeling that I wasn't sober, but enjoying it and enjoying Bob's so vivid story, envisioning what he was describing. It seem so apparent that sooner or later he was going to have his arm around Deb and his hand holding her breast: his "She has a nice figure." And what about her and his feeling like that down there? Maybe I grinned a little foolishly. Bob also drank, then grinned and said: 

"You wanted to hear my version of the full story."

"Yeah! I won't tell her that it's being this good."

"I won't either! So there we were. Did I want to save her from the embarrassment of waking up that way, or wouldn't she be embarrassed and consciously do what that girlfriend's hand had done? She was my sister; I couldn't let her do that, even if I wanted her to. At least, I couldn't let her, while she was thinking I was some other guy. What to do? How to get out of our position? Have to remove her arm. I put my hand on hers, hoping to gently slid it back around me. She moaned softly again and held me closer. Was it just a reflex from feeling my hand on hers, like some boyfriend had done, how many, all of them? 

"Her hand didn't like it when I moved it back down on the side of my waist. I murmured: 'Hi Deb, it's me, Bob.' She moaned softly and then murmured: 'Oh, ... yeah, ... still nice.' 'Too,' I whispered. 'Still nice,' she repeated, and her fingers crept down on my shorts to my hip bone. I shouldn't have let them, especially when they found it and then rubbed in front of it. Did she know what that could do for a man? I almost grabbed her hand and moved it back, landing on her hip. Did she have to murmur again: 'That's nice too.' What did she mean, want?" 

Bob smiled wryly and took a sip, and I did, and he asked: 

"Are we getting drunk?"

"Not enough for you not to finish your story."

"Hmm! I guess not; just don't tell her."

"Said I wouldn't, if you finish it, else I might ask her to." 

We both snickered, and Bob replied: 

"Then I had better. She rolled back and told me to roll over. I did. She was always the more dominant of us, born two minutes before me. Well, you must know how it is to lie with a girl like that, and my thigh just instinctively drew up over hers, and hers slid up a little between mine. It was all too familiar, but now literally 'too familiar,' my sister's thigh between mine, and where else should my hand be, if not on her stomach. She purred and murmured again: 'also nice, ... hold one.' Sure, I knew what she meant, but when I hesitated, her hand grasped mine and drew it up on her breast. My fingers couldn't resist holding it through the thin cloth of her shorty; they wanted to. She moaned, and her fingers encouraged mine." 

Bob took another sip, looking like he wasn't sure he would continue. Maybe he need another sip of alcohol. I just murmured: 

"Go on." 

"Hmmm? Well, you know what's going to happen. I don't like this. The way I've been telling it sounds like I'm making her responsible for what happened, but I wanted it to, too. If I had rolled over towards her, I would have put my arm around her and held her nice breast. She just happened to roll over first. Whatever, now I was, and she was liking it and knew whose fingers were squeezing her aroused nipple, also whose thighs were squeezing one of hers. It twitched. Could she have felt my cock twitch? It had, of course, long since free of my boxer shorts. She moaned and muttered: 'I'm horny. Aren't you?' 

"Of course I was, had been since I got in bed, trying not to admit it, but now she had and had asked that! Did I intentionally rock my hips to make my cock touch her? It did. She murmured: "You are too,' and squeezed my hand on her breast." 

"Nice breast," I suggested, immediately thinking that I wouldn't have, if I had been sober, which didn't, however, keep me from taking another sip. Bob nodded with a smirk and also took a sip and continued: 

"'Nice breast.' Then I felt her other hand, which was down between us, move. Was she wanting to hold my cock, like a couple of other girls had done, when I was lying like that with them? No, her fingers were gathering up the bottom of her shorty. I felt it slide up past the head of my cock, and then she was pulling it up, raised her hips to pull it up further. 'What are you doing?' I mumbled, although it was pretty obvious. 'If we're both horny, ...' she replied and pulled it up to her breasts, pulling it from under my hand. My hand on my sister's naked breast – nice naked breast, before you interrupt me again. 

"That was when I gave in, gave up asking stupid questions; anything she wanted. Hell, I was so horny, hadn't slept with a girl for weeks and hadn't done anything else since we started sharing rooms, if you know what I mean, and I didn't think she had either. 'You can suck it,' she suggested. If I was already holding one, of course, I could suck her other one. I probably would have without her encouragement, the most obvious thing to do at that point in that position. I did, and she moaned and clutched my hand, as I only vaguely wondered what would happen next." 

I managed just to nod; I knew what my hand would be doing next in that situation. I waited for Bob to continue. 

"I didn't have to wait long; her hand pulled mine off her breast. A couple of girls had done that in the past – maybe just freshman year – but they had just wanted me to stop arousing them. Deb's hand was pulling mine down over her stomach. A couple of girls had stopped my hand when it started to do that, but Deb's was drawing mine right down to her loose bottom and over it, as her other thigh rolled to the side and the one between mine drew up a little. Then my hand under hers was between them. When my fingers did what they knew to do, she gave a long moan, her fingers encouraged mine. Then her bottom was moist where my fingers were rubbing. 

"I didn't know how far this was going to go, but I was past worrying about it. Then her hand left mine and found the elastic of her bottom and pulled it down. She couldn't pull it down as far as she wanted, but I understood and slipped my hand inside, over her trimmed pubic hair, and then my fingers were on her pussy again, making her moan. Then both her hands were pulling her bottom down, the one between us brushing past my cock. She chuckled and raise her hips, and then they were free of her shorty bottom. When my thumb moved on her trimmed hair, she murmured: 'I'll start to shave again, didn't know this was going to happen,' whereupon her hand grasped my stiff cock. 




How I Met My Wife



"I released her nipple and raised my head and agreed: 'I sure didn't.' 'I guess it was going to sooner or later, even without this bed,' she replied, squeezing my cock. I moaned and made her moan, wondering if we could just masturbate each other for relief for the coming several weeks. 'Sooner or later,' she murmured and rolled towards me, her other thigh on mine, my hand squeezed between her thighs, as her arm embraced me, and her face touched mine, her mouth finding mine. If I could rub her pussy and she hold my cock, there was no reason why I couldn't kiss my sister, even the way she was wanting to. 

In all our years together, had I really never been sexually curious about my sister; she, about me? We now were way past just being curious. Yeah, I asked myself if this was incest. Would oral sex be incest? My tongue would love to be in her pussy doing what my fingers were. Did Deb like to suck a cock, want to suck mine? That was almost as good as – sometimes better than – doing what was really incest. She retrieved her tongue and murmured again: 'Sooner or later,' then added, as though she had read my thoughts: 'We can do that too; I like to, but sooner or later we're going to. Sooner!' 

"She rolled me back, for a few moments struggling to free her legs of her shorty bottom, then was lying on me, her legs straddling mine. She raised her shoulders and brushed her aroused nipples on my chest, then dropped down and started another kiss. My cock throbbed between us. She moaned and nodded, then chuckled softly and murmured with her lips on mine: 'And I was wondering why I was still taking the pill.'" 

I couldn't resist saying something and grinned, remarking: 

"Girls can be so subtle about telling that they want to go all the way." 

"Um-hmm, and that it's safe to with them," Bob agreed, continuing: 

"And I didn't have any rubbers with me. Why should I have; wasn't going to be able to meet another girl, traveling all summer with my sister." 

"Didn't need to, it seems," I enjoined. 

"No, I sure didn't, and she wouldn't have been as good. Where was I? Where were we?"

"Your cock throbbing, and her telling you could." 

"Oh, yeah. Then she raised her hips and let him spring up. When she didn't reach down, I did, but she stopped me and rocked her pussy on him and said: 'That would be cheating. Then one of us would have started it; they have to find each other.' I liked that she apparently had also thought about incest, that if we were going to, then that neither of us should feel that the other one was more to blame. They did, pussy and cock. God, I was aroused when he slipped into her, and she was too, both of us moaning, groaning as her hips rocked down. I held them still, and we both almost chuckled, feeling him throbbing deep in her pussy. I told her I was going to come like a teenager. She really chuckled and replied: 'Just the first time.' She was right." 

Bob emptied his glass, and I did. Then he said: 

"Enough! Way too much. You can imagine how we spent the rest of the summer, maybe better than you can imagine."

"I'll try to. No question about why she wants to visit."

"Oh, hope you don't mind; we will. She said she hoped we won't bother you." 

"Kind of her. Better go to bed now." 

We did. In the morning, Bob said: 

"Did I really tell you all that?"

"Um-hmm, the whole story, like she wanted you to." 

"Hm-hmm, I'm pretty sure that she didn't want it to be like that."

"Better than any erotic story I ever read. Life can be better than fiction." 

We both nodded with wry smiles, and didn't mention Deb until Wednesday, when Bob said he was going to pick her up. I was more than just curious to meet her, wondering what it would be like to meet a girl about whom I knew so much. Had Bob told her that he had told me their whole story? 

Late in the evening, they arrived. Was she really that attractive, or did I just want to think so because I had heard his so erotic story about her? If he had or hadn't told her, what was she thinking about me, knowing at least that I understood that they were going to sleep together? She greeted me with a smile, may a little abashed one. My smile was also probably a little funny. Then Bob said that he had to find a better parking space and left us alone. 

Deb looked at me with a quizzical expression, after a moment asking: 

"Did he tell you?"

"The whole story, said that you said that he should."

She smirked with smile and shrugged, replying: 

"I don't know about the 'whole story,' but I figured that it would be easier if you knew." 

"Yes. Of course I had to wonder about your sleeping here. The story sure clarified that." 

"Shocked?" 

"He made it sound too good to be shocked, not any more than you two were, if you were." 

Deb smiled and shrugged and agreed: 

"Something like that, I guess; too good to not to."

"It sounded like that." 

"Oooh, he must have made it a good story."

"Um-hmm, but just about how you got there, well, the first night, stopping after ... you 'did', then just said that it was very good the rest of the summer."

Deb nodded with wry smile and agreed: 

"It was. He just told me that he had told you, not how much." 

"We had been drinking. Maybe the story wouldn't have been as good, if we hadn't been." 

"Hm-hmm! If you liked it, we did. 

I chuckled and ventured to add: 

"Told him it was better than any erotic story I've read." 

"Oooh! That good?! Maybe it was. Of course it was, since it wasn't just a story - for us."

"I guess it happens more often than people expect. I had to wonder, if I had had a sister." 

"We could think so. Kind of funny with hindsight that nothing ever occurred before last summer." 

"Bob said that he wondered about that too." 

He returned, and Deb and I dropped the subject. We shared a bottle of wine, talking about our studying. Deb was doing graduate English Literature. There were a few slightly smirking smiles, when there was pause in the conversation, between them, with me from both Bob and Deb. I thought that it was apparent that we all were thinking about their situation and that I was privy to it. 

Then it was time to go to bed. I offered to use the bathroom first and did, saying good night and disappearing in my room, worrying that I was probably going to have to overhear their reunion after almost three months. I did, with new fantasies from Bob's story, but it was me with Deb. In the early morning, I wasn't surprised to be awakened by moans from their room, with a different fantasy, when I remembered that he had told that she had said: 'We can do that too, I like to.' They weren't, however, since she couldn't moan like that with his cock in her mouth. My envisioning how good it would be, if she were, was very satisfying, however. 

Such thoughts weren't the best thing to have when I saw them again, so I got up and used the bathroom and got dressed and busied myself in our little kitchen, trying to forget them. When I heard them using the bathroom, apparently together, I called that I was making breakfast. 'That's nice', she called back. Bob agreed: 'Yeah, but don't set the table till we're back in my room.'" 

I snickered at the implication that they didn't have any clothes in the bathroom and the recognition that they had not closed the bathroom door. I waited till I heard his door close and then set the table. They came out of his room, giving me slightly wry smiles. Deb shrugged and said: "Hope we didn't disturb you." 

Bob looked surprised at her direct reference to how they had spent the night. I smiled back at her, returning her shrug, and said: "Nothing I couldn't handle." 

Bob smirked with a nod. This time Deb looked surprised at my reply. I was too. Then her eyebrows shot up, and she smiled apologetically and murmured: "I guess so." 

We had breakfast and agreed to show Deb around the campus. It was a nice, late fall day, and she was good company, talking more with me than with her brother, but that was just natural, since compatible strangers have more to talk about than siblings, who know all about each other. With a visit to the museum for coffee and then looking at the exhibitions, we spent most of the day. Bob had already reserved a table for Thanksgiving dinner and we enjoyed it with two bottles of wine. He insisted that I had to be their guest, and we returned to our apartment in good spirits. 

When Deb offered to make coffee, He suggest a glass of cognac with it and got the bottle, now three quarters empty. While he poured, Deb chuckled and asked if that was what we had been drinking when he told the story. I nodded, surprised that she wanted to refer to it. Bob was much more surprised, not knowing about our conversation, while he had been parking his car. When he looked at her with a frown, she shrugged and said: 

"He told me. I asked, while you were parking." 

"You did?" Bob asked, glancing at me and then at her." 

"She asked," I replied: "Told her it was good." 

"It sounded like it must have been," Deb remarked with a grin. 

She raised her glass and looked at me. I raised mine and smiled at her, and the Bob raised his and looked at her and agreed: 

"It was, but I guess I got a little carried away. After the six pack was empty, we were drinking this, with soda. Cheers, nice that you're here, and that you two seem to get on well together." 

Deb smiled at me, and I returned it, and we all had a sip and then drank some coffee. Then she smiled at me again and said: 

"You know more about us than anyone else does." 

"He sure does, I hope," Bob agreed emphatically. 

"Of course. I meant, since your story was that good, not that anyone else knows," she added. 

I wondered if she was a little drunk from the wine, not yet from the cognac, but she was having another sip. I had one too, to keep her company, and then Bob did, while I wondered if she was wanting to hear more about the story. She was going to have to ask Bob in his room. Then Bob muttered: "Should have gone to the men's room in restaurant." 

Deb and I had, while he was paying the bill. I called after him to close the door, remembering that he and I usually didn't and then that they hadn't that morning. Deb smirked at me with a nod, and we both raised our glasses and had a token sip, then smiling at each as we set our glasses down. I was liking her more than I already had been. Then she said softly: 

"Should have said skaal, that was nice, like in Scandinavia last summer, where we learned that one should always look again at the person you're drinking with afterwards. Hm-hmm! Don't have to ask about the beds there, by then it didn't matter."

I nodded with smile; she had assumed correctly that in Bob's story, he had told that it started between them, when they had to share the not too wide double bed mattress and covers. We took a sip of coffee and waited silently for him to return, smiling at each other – or had she pursed her lips slightly? If we had been alone, I instead of Bob would have been sitting on the sofa with her, and would have been wanting to put my arm around her. 

Bob returned and we talked inconclusively about what we could do the next day, finishing our cognac and coffee. It was still not so late, but sooner or later – I suddenly remembered her saying that in Bob's story – we were going to have to go to bed. Sooner, I thought, also recalling that she had wanted them to do it sooner that night in the hotel. I yawned and said: 

"Children's bedtime. I'll go first again. Thank you for the fine dinner and a delightful day," the latter with a smile at Deb, or rather Debbie, as I would have preferred to call her. 

She smiled back. Or had she purse her lips again, or did I just want to think that she had? I went to the bathroom, hearing her say that she would clear away the cups and glasses. When I returned to the room, she was still in the kitchen, drying them. Bob was standing in the living room waiting for me and thanked me for being such a good sport about her staying with us. We said good night, and he went to brush his teeth and whatever else he did before going to bed with a girl. Debbie looked out from the kitchen with a smile and said softly that they would try not to be so loud. When she said good night, she definitely had pursed her lips. 

That was very nice, but a little bothersome when I was in my room and undressing. A few – too few – girls had sucked my cock, but for some reason I had never envisioned their lips around my cock when I was with them somewhere else, but I just had with Debbie, when she had pursed hers, recalling again that in the story she had said: "We can do that too, I like to." As I got in bed, I admonished myself not to think about her that way. Then I did, however, only wondering if we were in one their hotel beds – or in mine! Then I was wondering if I couldn't hear them because their mouths were arousing each other. That wasn't so good either, since I remembered that she shaved her pussy, had told him in the story that she was going to start shaving it again. Only one of my girlfriends in college had shaved hers, and it had been especially delightful to lick, also because she was a more active lover than the others had been. Were girls who shaved in general more interested in sex and better at it? I didn't have to ask myself if Debbie was; Bob had told me that she was. I fell asleep wondering how I was going to keep such thoughts out of mind when I was with them till Sunday afternoon. 

In the morning, I was again the first one in the bathroom, then dressed and in the kitchen, soon hearing Bob's door open and then the bathroom door being closed. The bathroom was really too small for two people. Bob and I never were in it together, and after the first week together, we had stopped wearing anything when we went to and from it to our rooms. Certainly, two persons couldn't get dressed in it, so there didn't have to be anything sexy about their doing what Bob and I did. 

I waited till Bob's door closed and set the table. They soon joined me, this time more nonchalantly, and we had breakfast, complaining that it was drizzling. After breakfast, I was a little surprised when Bob said he would go and buy a newspaper and took his umbrella and left. Debbie helped me clear the table and insisted on washing up. I waited with the dishtowel to dry. Then she surprised me. Not looking over at me, she said: 

"We don't have to do it twice a night. Last night we were talking. Bob said that he had thanked you for being a good sport about my staying here, and I agreed." 

She gave me a smile and looked back at the sink, continuing: 

"Then he said that it was a little unfair – no, "rather unfair" - us two together and you alone. I agreed with him again. Did I says that I thought it was "very unfair"? I was thinking it was." 

Her eyes didn't leave the sink as went on: 

"Then he surprised me and asked if I liked you. I do, from our short acquaintance." 

She smiled at me again. Could she see that my cheeks were flushing? I returned her smile and replied: "I do too, from our short acquaintance. 

She quickly looked back at the sink, but I could that her cheek was rosier than before. After handing me a plate – without looking at me again – she said: 

"I said that I did 'from our short acquaintance.' He replied that he had thought so, and I said that I was glad we were going to be together for a couple of more days." 

Her cheek was even more flushed. Where was their conversation leading, I wondered; where was ours, that she was blushing? She handed me another plate and continued: 

"Then he said: 'If you like him and want to be together for a couple of more days, and we both agree this is being unfair to him ...' and didn't finish his sentence. He couldn't see that I was blushing, like I am now." 

Debbie turn her face to me. She was blushing, with an embarrassed but good smile. I was pleased that I also was blushing, now having an inkling of where their conversation could go, since she knew and was blushing, but wanting to tell me. She wrinkled her nose with an unembarrassed smile and said: 

"You are too. I like that." 

"Me too. And then?" 

She looked back at the sink before she spoke: 

"I didn't say anything, just blushing, and then he said: 'Well, if you want to be together and get to know each other better, I don't need to be around all the time.' I wasn't sure what he meant. I mean, I've slept with him, we've slept with each other more than with anyone else, but we're siblings. We never really talked about that." 

She ventured another glance over at me, now with just a quizzical expression. I took a deeper breath and replied: "Nice of him. I would also like to get to know you better." 

When she smiled, blushing again, I did too. She began to chuckle, almost a girlish giggle, and then we both laughed. I could have hugged her. At that moment we heard the door open, and we stifled our laughter but were grinning when we turned to see Bob shaking his umbrella in the corridor. He smiled wryly and said: "It looks like you two don't want to go out in the rain."

Debbie and I glanced at each other with smiles – or had she pursed her lips again? - and shook our heads, grinning at him. 

"I rather thought so. I'll get some books and go to the library, maybe read the paper, or do you want to read it." I shook my head. Debbie replied: 

"Take it with you, something to read in case you finish your books." 

I heard her suggestion that he stay in the library for a long time. Bob did too. With a wry smirk, he replied that he wouldn't be back before five and went in his room. Debbie and I looked at each with twitching lips, waiting for him to return from his room and leave. When he came out of his room, he smirked again and said: "And one of you is going to pay for supper tonight." 

We nodded, then as he was about to close the door, he called into the room: "And don't do anything I wouldn't." 

The door shut, and we looked at each with slight scowls at his parting remark. Debbie murmured: 

"He didn't have to say that." 

"Little brothers can be such a nuisance when older sister has a date." 

"He told you I was born first?" 

"By two minutes. Hm-hmm! Must have been cozy for nine months."   

Debbie grinned and replied: 

"I can't remember. It wasn't until last summer." 

"There lots of things we don't have to do that he wouldn't." 

"Hm-hmm! Name the first one that comes to mind." 

"We don't have to ... read the newspaper; he doesn't either." 

"We can't; he took it with him. Try again?"

"Your turn," I replied with a smirk. 

"Hmmm? He doesn't have to hold your hand, and I don't have to," but she did, turning in front of me." 

"He'd better not want to. Oooh! And really had better not do that!" 

Her finger was scratching in my palm, as she looked up at me with a purr and pursed lips. 

After two nights of fantasies about her and having envisioned her lips around my cock, I was at a loss for any other response than putting my arms around her, still holding her hand, drawing her hips to mine and leaning her back, arching her back so that our lips could meet. Then our tongues did. For a moment, I recalled the photo a sailor kissing girl on Times Square sort of like that on V-Day. But her arm hadn't been around him, like Debbie's now was. 

My hand slid up on her blouse, and I recognized that she wasn't wearing a bra. Why hadn't I noticed at breakfast? I was pretty sure that she had been the day before. It felt like her breasts – "nice breasts" – were as firm against my chest as though they had been trapped in a bra. After a few moments, I knew she could feel my cock. I usually didn't want the girl to feel him on a first kiss, but now I did. She chuckled in her throat and ended our kiss. I thought she might mention that, but she didn't, chuckling again and murmuring: 




How I Met My Wife



"He never kissed me like this, standing up, and wouldn't have, I don't think." 

"Oh, so we are doing something he wouldn't have?" 

"Aren't we wicked! Mmmm! But it felt like you want to do what he would." 

Now she had mentioned that. I nodded with moan, then smirked and replied: 

"Just to not be so wicked." 

She almost giggled with a grin and nodded towards my room. Thank goodness Mom had taught me always to remake my bed in the morning. As we went to it, she murmured: 

"Still wicked enough, after a first kiss and right after breakfast."

"Very!"

"Very!" she agreed with a smirk, already unbuttoning her blouse, adding: "And I never thought about doing it on a first date. Oh, well, maybe I did, vaguely, that I would want to with him, but we never did." 

"Like my envisioning doing it with girls I never dated." 

She smirked and remarked: 

"Worse than me." 

"If you want to think so." 

She waited for me to unbutton my shirt, so that we could take blouse and shirt off together. When we had, she unhesitatingly letting me see her breasts, I remarked: 

"I thought you were wearing a bra, like yesterday." 

"Hm-hmm, I was yesterday. And you didn't notice this morning?"

"Should I have been? I was enjoying seeing you blushing." 

If you'd been looking, you'd have seen that they were aroused." 

She grinned and circled both nipples with her fingers. I asked: 

"You wanted me to? Were you planning this?"

"Don't ask! But if I hadn't gotten up the nerve to tell you in the kitchen, I guess I was hoping you would have notice." 

We were taking off our lower clothes. I asked: 

"What did Bob think?"

"I guess he understood. Wasn't it his suggestion? When we saw that it was raining, that was a good excuse for his suggesting we stay here, but he didn't mention that in the bedroom." 

We were down to just panty and boxer shorts. I rather liked that my cock had relaxed. We smirked at each other and pushed them down. When she saw me look at her shaven pussy, she smiled and remarked: 

"Maybe he assumed why, when I shaved this morning. I suppose he told you that I do." 

"Just in the "whole story," that you said that you were going start shaving again."

"Most have been a very good story, if it include details like that." 

"It was." 

She was looking at my cock and smiled, and then glanced over at my bed. I drew back the covers and made what I thought was graceful gesture for her to lie down. She nodded politely, but with smirk, and did, moving over and patting the bed for me to join her. I did, pulling up the covers, and we cuddled, two warm, naked bodies. 

Debbie suddenly chuckled and said: 

"This is really a little funny, just jumping in bed after breakfast, and Bob's almost instigating that we should. I hope you think we should." 

"If I tell you what I was fantasizing about last night and the night before." 

"About me?" 

"If you don't mind." 

"Oh, that's good, then. Hmmm? Did his story tell you what I like to do?" 

"Not really; it stopped after you said that they should find each other, and they did."

"I said that? He told you that? Yeah, I guess I did. Yeah, I was thinking that it should just sort of happen, no hands intentionally – neither of us – making it happen." 

"That's what he thought too, liking that neither of you should feel that one or the other was more responsible for making it happen."

"He said that? That's sweet. God, I was horny; it had to happen. If it hadn't happened that night, It would have. That bed was a blessing – maybe not that word. And he didn't tell you any more?" 

"Wasn't that enough? It was supposed to be just an explanation of why you were going to be sleeping in his bed."

"We sure did! Well, we did Wednesday night, but I was meaning last summer. After the first week, we tapered off a little, but the first week, morning noon and night, not always noon, but night and morning. We joked about whether we were wanting to make up for the weeks since the last time we had slept with someone, or make up for the years we might could have, if it had somehow occurred to us." 

"Sounds delightful," I replied. 

"Oh, it was, is, but maybe we shouldn't talk about that. What do you like to do?" 

"Everything, well, I think almost everything." 

"Me too." 

"Hmmm! In his story, before you did, he said that you said: 'We can do that too, I like to.'"

"He did?! Yeah, I guess I did, but I was wanting to really do it. You like that?"

"Shouldn't tell you. Last night when you pursed your lips ..."

"I did?" she interjected. 

"I thought so. Shouldn't tell you, but I suddenly envisioned them doing it." 

"Sucking your cock?!" 

"Your four letter word! But yes." 

"I don't like the one for me." 

"I don't either. That was a little disturbing, my envisioning that you could, not the nicest thing to suddenly think about a nice girl." 

"Maybe I'm not nice, What guys can envision!" 

"That was what was funny, that that had never occurred to me before. A couple of girls have, but I never thought about that, when I was seeing them somewhere else." 

Debbie's hand found my relaxed cock, and she smirked, then pursed her lips and said: 

"This isn't somewhere else, and I like to, and then you can. You'd better like to." 

"Oh I do, especially a shaven pussy, only one." 

"Close the window and turn up the heat." 

I slipped from under the covers and did. When I turned back to the bed, Debbie was kneeling on the floor next to it with the covers over her shoulders, grinning and then pursing her lips. She really wanted to! No girl had done it like that with me, just in videos I had seen. I sat down on the bed in front of her. She moaned as she raised my cock, looking up at me with an aroused expression, then pursing her lips again, and then my fantasy was real. I watched her lips slip around my stiffening cock. 

I don't like the expression, but she gave me the best blow-job I had ever had, except for the fact that I came much sooner than I wanted to, but she loved it, moaning with me, then having to gulp, and then swilling my cum around the head of my cock, obviously enjoying it. She raised her head with an aroused expression, and I saw that her hand was between her thighs. She licked her lips, hardly smiling. After all our talk, I was expecting her to say something, but she didn't, just moaned again and licked her fingers. 

That said enough; now it was my turn, her turn. As though she wanted to make sure I understood, she moistened her fingers in her pussy again and held them of for me to suck. I did with a moan, nodding for her to get on the bed. I had expected her to lie on it with her head on the pillow, but she sat down next to me and lay back, spreading her thighs. Was that a better way to do it? 

I dropped down on my knees and got between her legs, but was only between them for a moment. She drew her thighs up and let them flop open. It was a better way to do it; I could see her shaven pussy better than any I had before, in the full light of day, despite the cloud covered sky. Had I really seen one before? It had always been dark or almost dark. Hers was lovely, pink, shiny moist from whatever her fingers had been doing. If she wanted me to do it like this, had she lain like this for Bob or someone to lick it? 

I had been thinking and admiring it for too long. Her hand slid down and spread her already open lips a little more. I licked, delighting to taste her better than just from sucking her fingers. Could I arouse her and give her a better orgasm than anyone else had, like she had done for me? I wanted to, I had to – try, at least. Her hand slid up her thigh, and then both her hands were drawing her thighs back. I had seen that in videos, but no girl had done that with me. This was the best way. 

Had she already known it? She was moaning as though it was. 

Whether she knew or didn't, I had to make give her the best orgasm I could, a delightful and very pleasurable challenge. My tongue wagged over her clitoris, stopping to lick down and probe and taste her pussy juice, then wagging and circling again. I loved it, and she was, moaning and rocking her hips up to suggest that I probe and taste again. Then once when she did that, my tongue found more to lick and lapped down and wanted to find more, lapping below the engorged ring around her opening. She gave an almost chuckling moan, and her hips suddenly rocked up further. My tongue touched the edge of her asshole. Did she want me to do that too?! No girl had ever done that, and I had never wanted to, although I had seen in videos that people did and apparently both liked it. If she wanted me to, her hips didn't rock back down again. My tongue tentatively circled it. She gave a surprised "uhnn!" 

She could have rocked her hips back down again, but she didn't; she wanted me to. And I wanted to do anything she wanted. I did, feeling it tighten and hearing her pulsing moan. She was liking it. I was too. It relaxed, and my tongue instinctively probed, and it tightened again, and she moaned like that again. If it was new to her, like it was for me, she was liking it. If she wanted me to do something that she already had experienced, I was more than pleased that I was obliging. 

Then her hips did rock down, my tongue finding fresh pussy juice as it lapped up. That had been arousing for her. My tongue probed in her pussy, as deep as it could. She tasted so good, and the mouth of her vagina contracted on my tongue. But then she wanted it back on her clitoris; her hips rocked down a little, and suddenly her hands were holding the back of my head, clasping my mouth to the front of her pussy. I sucked and licked, and we both moaned. 

I had been holding her breasts, nice breasts and so stiff nipples, but when she lost control of her hips, I had to grab them to keep my mouth on her when they began to jerk, almost rising off the bed. If it wasn't going to be her best licked pussy orgasm, it was going to be the best one I had experienced. 

She came, whimpering, laughing like no other girl had. Why hadn't I made it that good for them? But I had for Debbie. She gasped and pushed my head back from her pussy, gasping and sighing with short pained sounding moans. Now I could see her pussy again, that was still contracting, pussy juice oozing out of it. Then I felt a drip on my cock and realized that it was as aroused as it could be and that my chin was all wet, dripping on my cock. I wiped mychin, waiting for her to recover, almost proud of myself, as I wondered what we'd do after she came back to herself. Her hands were still on my ears. 

"Fuck me!" Her soft demand completely surprised me, but she meant it, her hands were urging me to rise up on my knees and lean over her. I felt my cock bob as I rose up. I didn't have to glance down to know that is was arouse, maybe not as much as it had been when she had come, but it was very nice feeling that it bob a little, heavy, aware that it was. I looked at her almost pleading face, remembering what she had told Bob the first night, and my cock and her pussy also found each other. 

We both moaned, as he so easily slid all the way into her wet pussy. This was also the best way to fuck, I thought. I held still, and we both felt him throb and felt her pussy contract. 

"Oh God, that was good!" she murmured, as we felt them again. I nodded, and she did with her aroused expression. Her pussy clutched my cock again, and it twitched. Then she closed her eyes and said: "Fuck." 

I did, grasping her so firm breasts to help thrust my cock in her pussy as hard and deep and fast as I could. She responded with load, pulsing moans: "Uhn-hn-hn-hn!" grasping the backs of my hands. After a few strokes – most have been many at that tempo – she grabbed my shoulders and drew me down over her, her slobbering tongue extend, wanting to find mine. It did, and then her legs were clasped around my waist, and her hips were meeting mine, as my cock thrust in her, our hips slapping together. 

That other girl with a shaven pussy had also locked her feet behind my ass, but lying on the bed, I couldn't fuck her the way I was fucking Debbie, the way Debbie wanted me to. I knew why, when she quickly came again, feeling her pussy juice spurt on my pubic hair. But I hadn't come yet. She knew it. After the gasps following her orgasm, she rocked her hips again and demand softly: "More!" 

I fucked, we both fucked. Maybe she didn't know that I hadn't come yet, just wanted to again herself. She did, when I did, and I collapsed heavy on her. She hugged me. My head was down next to hers, heavy, all my muscles relaxed – except for the ones that were making my cock twitch, when her pussy contracted. 

How long did we lay like that, sighing with softer moans, feeling each other's stomach moving. Then she hummed, and her pussy contracted, but my wilted cock couldn't respond. It slipped out. We both nodded, ear on ear, and I found to strength to raise my head, then my shoulders, and looked down at her. It was a moment before we both smiled slightly. She remarked: "You're heavy." 

As I rose off her, I wondered if that was all she was going to say about what had been for me the most arousing sex I had ever had. Hadn't it been at least a little like that for her? She was moving around on the bed, making space for me to join her. 

When I did, however, she was immediately embracing me, rolling me back, lying half on me with her thigh between mine, and her mouth on mine, kissing as though she wanted to start all over again. That was not going to happen, unless she wanted me to lick her pussy again. Was what our tongues were doing suppose to suggest that? Hers stopped and she moved down a little with her head on my shoulder, hugging me with her arm around my chest. 

We just lay there in silence, a very comfortable silence. Then her hand rubbed a little and she murmured: 

"It's called making love. It sure was." 

Her hand hugged again. I was at a loss for words. I agreed with her, but what was I supposed to say? She hummed softly and murmured again: 

"I shouldn't have said that, used that word, but any other word would have been .... I don't want to use them to say how good it was." 

Now I could say something and rubbed her back, replying: 

"Not better than it was for me." 

"Hmmm, and that, our first time." 

We just rubbed our hands on each other. It could have been in confirmation that it had been so good, or that we both wanted it to have just been the first time. 

"Shouldn't have used that word," she almost whispered, but her having said that only drew more attention to her having used it. Did she love me? Did I love her? We hardly knew each other, but we sure had made it. I took a deeper breath and murmured: 

"That's not all there is to it – that word." 

Debbie chuckled softly and rub my side, then remarked brightly: 

"But we sure can make it. Oooh! And how? I never did it like that, and what you did."

"I never did either," I replied, delighted that we both had made love like neither of us had with anyone else. 

She moaned, and we both hugged. We dozed off. When we woke up, the rain had stopped and clouds cleared, but we didn't go out. We had a naked lunch, joking about the film title. We returned to my bed, chatting cheerfully. She said that she hadn't expected that she and Bob would do anything after all their talk the previous night, but then they had. As she said: 'You can't lie together naked in a small bed without something happening. It was my fault, but you probably didn't hear us, what we were doing." 

That seemed to be a suggestion that we should do that, and I turned around on the bed, and we did, then embracing and both agreeing that we were good at making love, both using those words. Before Bob was going to return, we managed to get up and have showers. We tried to share the shower stall, but gave up, and I just watched her, smirking as she made a demonstration of washing her breast and pussy. I could only show her how I could wash my cock, hoping that it would help make it look more erotic, but it didn't. We remade my bed and then reluctantly put our clothes back on and waited for her brother to return. 

The doorbell rang. As I went to open the door, Debbie called: "We're dressed." 

Bob unlocked the door and opened it before I could, and grinned at us wryly, then said: 

"Sounds like you do know each other better." 

"Um-hmm!" Debbie agreed, nodding with a smirk. 

He chuckled and looked at me. I nodded with a sheepish grin, then was shocked, when I heard myself say: 

"But you can sleep with Debbie tonight."

"Hey, I'll decide in whose bed I sleep," she exclaimed. 

"'Debbie'? Only her favorite uncle calls her that. Not mine; I've been looking forward to an undisturbed night's rest."

"You! Is that why you asked if I liked him?" Debbie asked, but then smirked and added: "I do," and looked at me and pursed her lips. 

"I like her too," I replied, returning her look and licking my lips. 

Bob grinned and said: 

"Then you have to sleep with your 'Debbie' tonight, after you treat us to supper. I'm only her brother."

"The nicest one a girl could have," she replied and surprised him with a kiss, one that he let be good for a few seconds. 

We went out for supper, really dinner at a better restaurant. Back in our apartment, Bob immediately said that he was going to bed and disappeared in the bathroom. Debbie and I looked at each other, smiling, grinning. When she pursed her lips, I licked mine, but that wasn't what we did when we went to bed. 

Lying together, she murmured: 

"You wanted to do that, with your tongue?"

"I thought you wanted me to, never have before, just seen it in videos." 

"Hm-hmm! Me too. Yeah, I guess I did want you to, more curious to know what it was like." 

"Seemed as though you thought it was – liked it."

"Mmmm! I did, to my surprise, but if girls do it in videos, people who see them must also know it is arousing." 

"You watch girls?" 

"Don't you?" 

"Sure, but you like to watch girls?" 

"You want to know if I have with another girl?" 

I just nodded. She chuckled and then replied: 

"Too easy in college, after girls discover that a guy really liked to do it. If he liked to, why shouldn't she. I know how good it is. Hope that doesn't bother you." 

I shook my head, understanding her logic, and she added: 

"Besides, we know how what we're doing feels, but it's not as good as what you can do." 

She began to fondle my cock, moaning as it stiffened, then murmured: "This is the way I really like to do it." 

She rolled me back and straddled me and guided my cock to her pussy. We both moaned, as her hips sank down on mine. Then she surprised me, reaching down and beginning to rub her clitoris. She moaned, and then I did, when my cock felt her pussy squeeze it. She more chuckled than moaned, when she felt it twitch, then murmuring: "I didn't do this that first night with him." 

She continued to rub, and then her hips began to rock to and fro on me. I was fondling her firm, nice breasts and stiff nipples. It got better, both of us moaning. Did I mind that Bob could hear us, or was I pleased that he had to? Was she thinking we could come this way, knew we could? 

We could and did, and she murmured: "Why I like it, feeling your orgasm, but now fuck." 

She dropped down on me, wanting me to suck her nipples, and we fucked until we both came again. 

That's how I met my wife.



How I Met My Wife



I gently positioned myself on top of her, kissing her, her breasts and caressing her soft pussy. But there had been plenty of foreplay and desire took over. With no urging at all, she opened her legs as I fumbled to insert myself into her. I plunged myself deep into her and began to thrust slowly and gently, growing harder and faster. She began to cry out with pleasure, and began to meet my thrusts with her own body. She was crying out, "Hurt me..Hurt me!" I didn't quite know what to make of that, never getting that response before. I was now thrusting in and out of her as hard as I could. We were one...totally one....and we were lost in the passion, the pleasure and the love we felt. No honeymoon could have meant more than this moment.....this was our honeymoon....we had already made commitments to each other in our hearts....

I came much too soon. I wished I could have gone on non stop for an hour. Both of us had forgotten how much we had missed the physical love that can be enjoyed between a man and a woman. I had forgotten how much I needed it...I had forgotten what it was like to be with someone who would give as well as take. It had been a long time since I had made love with someone who wanted to give pleasure to me as well as receive it themselves. It had been a long time since I had made love where love was actually part of the experience. I could tell it had been the same for her. 

I am sure both of us had had some of the same feelings through this whole situation. "What am I doing...Why don't I stop this.....what sort of person is this who would.....why aren't they stopping me.....what are they going to think....will they think that I am the sort of person who......" 

But in talking later, neither of us had any regrets about that afternoon. We eventually moved from the couch to the bedroom. Hours went by...we caressed, we kissed....we talked....we dreamed....I went down on her...she went down on me...we made love numerous times....slowly the sun went down...we went from afternoon to evening....and were totally unaware of the hours that passed by, being consumed by each other. 

She got up to go to the bathroom, when she came back I pulled her into my lap and began to caress her breasts. She laid her head back and I began to kiss and suck on her neck and caress her earlobe with my lips and tongue. With one hand on her breast, I slipped the other hand down and began to gently rub and caress her pussy. She turned around and faced me, and pressed her breast into my mouth, and I began to suck it and nibble on her nipples. 

I lay down on the couch, and she got on top of me, rising up so that I could see, feel and suck both of her breasts. This has always been one of my favorite positions. I held them together and licked and sucked both nipples at the same time. I could not get enough of her small, cute and firm little titties. I had put enough hickies on them that they looked bruised. 

Sitting up, she guided my cock into her soft, tight and wet pussy. Now she was in control, thrusting as I squeezed and sucked her breasts. The length of time I could go before cumming was increasing, as there was almost nothing left for me to cum with. We had made love so many times that afternoon. She was so tight, one would have never guessed she has had 3 kids. It felt like being inside of a virgin.

We spent the entire day at her house, remaining nude, kissing, talking, and dreaming. Later that evening we took turns taking a bath, one bathing while the other sat there conversing. It was so strange...we sat there in each other's company, totally nude and felt comfortable, as if we had been together for years. I felt peaceful and comfortable, and most of all, happy. 

We had not left the house for hours....no TV....no stereo...spending time together was all the entertainment we had need for. We were up most of the night....making love, talking, I don't know of any subjects we left untouched. We talked about our failed marriages, our kids, our childhoods, our hopes and dreams, our fears. our likes and dislikes. We touched, kissed, and tried almost everything to couples could do together. She was so open...no inhibitions, and nothing was forbidden. It was an afternoon, evening and night I will never forget. 

The sun was coming up; I had never made it over to her friends house. This bothered me...what must they think of me now....they would know that I had never made it over....in fact...the entire time I was there I never once made it to their house. Yet, all my stuff was there....It was with great fear that I accompanied her to the house to get my belongings. I was relieved that they were not home and I never once ran into them. It was not that I was so ashamed of what we had done, as being uncomfortable with what they would think of her. I would be leaving, if they thought I was a terrible person, well, so be it. I really could not blame him much. But she lived there and it was a very small town. It could get very uncomfortable for her. 

We drove around some the next day as she showed me the scenic sights of the little town. She showed me a farm where she had once lived, and a restaurant that she had made plans to treat me to that evening. 

What a treat that turned out to be. She came out dressed in a little short Fredericks dress and looked like a total knockout. We went to the restaurant, which I think was the only one in the whole town. If I had thought about it, I could have probably taken her to one in a larger nearby city.. 

When the meal was over, she wanted to go out to the farm she had shown me earlier. We had talked by email before I had ever met her about spending one eve watching the sun set together. We took a blanket to sit on....and well....one thing led to another....which was really something I think we both had planned. But in Western Kansas, even in July, it can turn cool in the evening. I helped her out of her dress, undid her bra and slid down her panties and we made love. 

It didn't take us long to fire up the flames of passion. We spent another night enjoying each other, and caressing each other, kissing and making love. She gave amazing blow jobs, and I could not believe she actually allowed me to cum in her mouth! There was not anything she would not allow me to try; she was even willing to allow anal intercourse! But we decided to save at least ONE thing for the Wedding night. 

But she did have some inhibitions. I attempted to make HER cum...but each time we got close...she would stop me....almost in a panic. It seems her ex husband would get upset at her when that would occur...due to the "mess' it made. He had been an abusive person, and had mistreated her in so many ways. The more I was around her, the more scars I could see. I just kept telling her that I knew what would happen if we kept going, and it didn't bother me, that I liked it and it actually was a turn on for me. Even with that, I had a hard time getting her to allow herself to go that far. But finally she did, and then she was apologizing all over the place. I just started kissing her and telling her that I enjoyed it and it didn't bother me, and how much I liked bringing her to that point. It took quite awhile into our relationship before she found the confidence that I was not going to be angry with her for reaching a climax and soaking the bed or even me. 

My time was running out as I had to get back and go back to work. I had been on vacation, and upon my return I was to start training for a new job.. I was not looking forward to that, but I was looking forward to getting into something other than what I was currently doing. I was not sure exactly how the departure was going to go, and what our future course of action was going to be. I was surprised when she asked to ride back home with me...her son lived there, and she thought she could stay there for awhile. I was glad to have the company for the long ride home. Little did we know the twists and turns that we were going to go through over the next couple of years. But we made it through....and we are happy and glad to be together. 

So I came away from there with much more than I expected. Funny how you envision how something is going to go, and you seldom have it go as you pictured. Funny how you can go someplace with a list of fears...and come back with a totally different list. I still feel a little bad that my self-control was so weak...and glad that she didn't run me off the first time I made a wrong move. But I would not change a thing. It's funny, there was not one time that we made love that I gave any thought to the fact that she could get pregnant. I wasn't using anything, and never took time to find out if she was or not. It is just as amazing that she didn't worry about the same thing. I don't know why we never did worry about that, probably because she was going through "the change" We got married and two years later she did get pregnant and we ended up with a little boy whom we treasure. 

So that is how it began, and the chapters are still being written. There have been some fantastic times, and times we did things so kinky I still find it hard to believe. There have been hard times, and times we both wondered if we'd make it...or if we even wanted to....but the part of us that did was so much stronger than any part of us that didn't. We stuck it out and we have always been glad we did. 

There will always be tough times. Life is full of uncertainty and we can find ourselves feeling small and insecure. But through financial and employment issues, family issues, health issues, we have grown stronger and have now been married almost 12 years. We never lost our faith in God or our love and faith in each other. That is what keeps people together. Keeping their faith, and not giving up each other. The issues we face are always resolved in due time if we continue on that faith and stay stong and confident, enjoying the gift of each other that God gave to us.



How I Met My Wife



"You going to read this and find out what this is all about, or do you want me to?"

Byron just turned a glazed look from the pile of cash to Butch's face and made a half-hearted shooing motion, indicating that Butch should go ahead.

"My dearest Byron, " Butch began. "Enclosed is a refund of all the fees paid to one Archibald Ryan, Private Investigator. It has come to my attention that he took your money under false pretences, and provided deliberately erroneous information to insure your search failed."

Byron's eyes lost their glazed look and he reached out and took the letter from Butch's hand. He quickly read through the letter mumbling random phrases aloud.

" ... Uncle ... Knew as soon as you finished your story that you were looking for... Only discovered this in the past month... wait until my twenty-first birthday or lose my trust fund... wait under the pier where we met one year ago!"

Byron dropped the letter on the table. He was smiling from ear to ear and his eyes almost glowed with pleasure and relief. He looked Butch right in the eye and laughed aloud.

"Crock of shit is it, Butch? Here, read the rest of Cornelia's letter for yourself. I'm off to ask the love of my life to marry me."

Byron scraped the cash back into the envelope and hurried out of the bar.

Butch picked up the letter and started reading. He finished it, shook his head, and started over at the beginning, like he couldn't believe what it said the first time. 

"What's up, O'Malley? There's been strange doings in here today, and they all seem to start with you paying your tab," Kaitlin interrupted. 

Butch just started reading aloud.

"... knew as soon as I tasted your cock and felt your tongue licking my pussy that I would never be happy with anyone else. However, the intensity of our orgasms frightened me, and I fled in confusion as soon as I recovered. 

"Once I had calmed down and had a chance to think about what happened, I realised that our chance encounter in the dark had destroyed any feelings I had for any other man. I went to my Uncle Archie for help. He refused at first, reminding me of the clause in my parent's will requiring that I remain a virgin until my twenty-first birthday. I pleaded with him, and he finally relented. 

"I just recently discovered that he relented the day you came to him for help in finding me. He relented only so that he could insure I never found you by steering me in the wrong direction, just as he was doing to you.

"The first anniversary of our meeting is my twenty-first birthday and I am free of all restrictions imposed by my parent's will. I will find you and see that you get this letter as soon as the legal details of claiming my trust fund are completed. 

"I will then go to the beach below the pier where we met and wait for you. I know that our year of frustration will soon be over and anxiously await our second meeting.

"With all my love and hope, Cornelia Cameron"

Butch stopped reading and looked at Kaitlin. He carefully folded the letter before wiping the tears from Kaitlin's cheek. He handed her the letter.

"I think you ought to have Clancy put this someplace safe for Byron. I'm sure he'll want it to show their children someday."

"Yes, there will be children won't there? Children are part of Happily Ever After, aren't they? I'm sure that with a fairytale start like this, they just have to have the Happily Ever After."

Kaitlin hugged the letter to her bosom and smiled a very wistful smile. 

 Copyright 2000 by Dirty Old Man All rights Reserved