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My Funny Valentine

By: moonbladem



Andrea Lew sat alone at the table in their favorite restaurant, impatiently tapping her fingernails. She noticed the quizzical looks the server gave her, so smiled demurely and shrugged her shoulders, but inside she simmered. Had Jonas forgotten their Valentine date? During the past forty-five minutes, she had tried calling him on his cell, his office and his home, with no luck. Sipping her glass of champagne, her eyes scanned the entrance for the umpteenth time that evening while she turned her wrist over to look at her watch.

What the hell is keeping him? She wondered.

"Miss Lew?"

Looking up, she saw her server and her eyes quickly flicked over to her nametag, which said 'Julie'. She wondered how Julie knew her name. "Look, I'm sorry," Andrea apologized. "My Significant Odd One must have either forgotten our date, or his cell phone is dead. If someone else needs this table then I'll be happy to leave."

"Oh no, no! Please stay, Miss Lew..."

"Andrea."

"Ma'am?" Julie asked, looking a little confused.

Andrea laughed; she couldn't help it, seeing the cute expression on her face. She figured Julie to be in her late teens to early twenties. "I meant... please call me Andrea, not Miss Lew or Ma'am. Especially not ma'am. That makes me sound ancient," she smiled.

"Will do... Andrea," Julie smiled back, before remembering why she was there in the first place. "Oh yes! You have a phone call. You can use the phone at the bar. And please don't worry about your table. It'll be here when you get back."

"Thank you, Julie," she stood up and asked. "Do you happen to know who it is?"

"No, I'm sorry," the younger woman apologized. "I don't."

"That's all right. Thanks anyway," she nodded, walking towards the bar.



My Funny Valentine Ch. 01



Chapter One

Happy Valentine's Day 1980

I could look out the window. I could look at the window. I could look in the window. That day I did all three.

Snow covered the city street like a bleached sheet, a thin clean layer. White would become as gray as the gunmetal sky but grimier eventually. Even in the congested metropolis it would take awhile. Not much exhaust fumes altered virgin snow in the quiet one way street that led no one anywhere with any convenience beyond itself. And few residing there owned those pollutants. Few could afford them and even fewer really needed them. City buses and subway trains got you anywhere needed getting to; even places beyond the edges of the borough, beyond the water that defined it as an island.

It could make you feel peaceful, the gently floating snowflakes, if you allowed it. I wished I could. I felt too upset.

The pane held my pain in. No one strolling by outside could see my pained eyes and avoid them. No one could hear my sighs or my sobs or my shouts of frustration that would tear at the interior walls of my larynx even if I did let them out instead of keeping them inside building tension in my throat and my chest while fueling the burn in my stomach.

The pane, held by an old frame scraped and painted many times, had a dinginess to it that spoke of age as well, as if time itself became a filter in which to view the outside world. It really just needed a good cleaning.

The pane and its frame reflected the room they held within, the dinginess and the age, multiple paint jobs hiding aging walls of the shotgun apartment, an exact replica of hundreds in the block long row house. Only décor, furniture and furnishings and knick knacks and pictures, made it different; made it mine. And to tell you the truth, there weren't a lot of those things. Maybe the absence of clutter defined it.

The pane, as the dark sky got darker before streetlights illuminated the street, became more and more reflective, becoming a mirror holding me as its central image.

Me the morose. Me the despondent. Me the fucking whiner.

I had time to study my reflection. I had nothing better to do. 

I saw the untamable, thick, wavy brunette hair reaching my shoulders as it framed my face, its thickness creating a sort of lion's mane, which is what I often called it, especially when even longer than it was.

The face it framed looked elongated, an oval thin at the sides. The elongation continued at the nose standing out long and thin, a combination of my dad's long thick Jewish nose and my mom's smaller straighter WASP nose. The elongated visage also reflected the body that held it: long and thin. Six feet six inches to be exact, including the head of course, but not the extra inch or so of hair.

My fairly wide mouth with its narrow subtly purple lips stretched quite a bit wider when I smiled and created dimples like parentheses below my slightly pronounced cheekbones. In my youth it had been deemed cute, this effect. Less so as I aged and my skin tightened and matured, but somehow still there despite my height and long face making cuteness less likely. I always found cute girls to be of short stature. Cuteness attracted me in females despite the great difference in height between them and me. So me being called cute seemed odd, but I'd heard it a few times.

My mouth also helped the expressiveness of my face. I had a hard time hiding emotions. But it was the eyes, despite their smallish size, that did most of the expressing. A blue/gray hue, they seemed to emphasize every emotion, whether cheerful or sad, playful or serious. They'd water at the most inopportune times; very unmanly.

Unfortunately my eyes revealed seriousness most of the time. I found seriousness not to be conducive to seductiveness. Along with confidence, which, being both shy and unsure (maybe the same thing), I lacked, women seemed to prefer something else than what I offered; the more playful man, one who could make them laugh.

I did have my moments though when I freed myself of seriousness or self-consciousness and presented an attracting front to ladies. Out of those moments I gained lovers, sometimes for just a night, sometimes for a few weeks or months. Only once did it last longer than that, and that had been my high school sweetheart. We had given each other our virginity and shared our lives for two years until I abandoned her to move east to college and then, quitting college, to Manhattan.

By and large, that was the only relationship I ended. The others the women abandoned me.

Which brings me back to the moment of staring forlornly at my refection in the mirrored window.

I hated Valentine's Day. It creates the worst expectation: love celebrated. Monica, my current (or so I thought) lover, never showed up. She never called. My calls went to her answering machine. After three times, I thought I'd be bordering on annoying or worse if I left another message. 

We planned to spend February 14th together, walking hand in hand across town, from East to West Village. We'd stop and shop at boutiques and record stores. We'd share lunch together and then a really nice dinner and then a concert of one of my favorite (and I thought hers) jazz pianists, McCoy Tyner. I had two tickets burning a hole in my pocket.

She never showed up. I waited for her to be late. I waited an hour to make the first call. Two hours later I knew I had been abandoned. Fuck Valentine's Day. I wanted to die it hurt so much. 

Monica was smart. Monica was beautiful. Monica was playful. Maybe too playful. She loved to flirt. She loved to drink and get high, mostly pot but anything else really. I wasn't interested or could not afford much of anything else. I could afford nickel bags of pot at my friendly neighborhood Puerto Rican social club. Drinks were on the house at the bar/restaurant I worked at at the end of my shift, and the tips let me buy her drinks at the afterhours club we enjoyed.

The post work drinking happened exclusively on Friday and Saturday, at least with her. She worked days during the week uptown at a publisher as a receptionist. She hoped to move to assistant editor or assistant agent or something. Her roommate had become an editor that way. In fact her roommate had gotten her the job when she advanced.

Her roommate. Jill. They shared a small two bedroom apartment only a couple blocks from their place of work on the Upper East Side.

They met in graduate school, a SUNY school on Long Island, both studying for their Masters in English Lit.

They couldn't have been more different. Monica was tall and lithe with lovely handful breasts and soft handful buttocks. Jill barely broke five feet in height and filled that height with curves. I wasn't sure of the dimensions of those curves as she tended to hide them in loose clothing. Even her power suits fit loosely.

And they had opposite temperaments: party girl as opposed to serious and studious.

During the month and a half of our relationship (Monica and I met drunk at a New Year's Eve party, fucked all night and made love the next night enabling it to continue) on my days off during the week, most often I'd be invited to spend the evening and night at their apartment. Those evenings occurred no more than twice a week and often less. Sometimes we only saw each other on weekends. We talked on the phone though almost every other evening between when she got home and I went to work.

On those occasions when I visited, if we didn't order in pizza or Chinese, either Jill or I cooked. Mom instructed me on cooking when I decided to quit school and live on my own. She was (and still is) a good cook albeit with simple fare. I did well with her lessons.

Jill, on the other hand, cooked with flair. With every meal she created an adventure. She always experimented and Monica and I were her guinea pigs. Not that we minded. Rarely did she miss. And she did this with the healthiest of foods, defying the blandness they usually conveyed with interesting and unusual combinations of foodstuffs and herbs and spices. By her last meals, I couldn't stop myself from being assistant chef to learn from this master.

And so Jill and I got to know each other in the kitchen and at the table. And in the morning she inevitably joined me for breakfast, waking up earlier than her roommate.

"How early do you wake up?" I asked her.

"Very," she told me. "I jog before I shower."

"Really? Could I join you?" I asked. I used to jog, but hadn't since moving to the city. The hard sidewalks of the East Village just didn't seem conducive. Being near Central Park would make it much better.

I couldn't believe the barely heard response, "Jog or shower?" but saw the blush. 

"Um, jogging?" I replied. I was dating her roommate after all.

"I'd like that," she said timidly, a little louder. She said most things timidly unless we'd had a couple glasses of wine at dinner.

I surprised her at six-thirty the next morning (I stayed up after work, not needing to sleep until eight to wake up at four and head for the dinner/night shift at the restaurant). She had thought it would be those mornings when I stayed the night with Monica.

Her smile beamed at me once she recovered. I hadn't realized how cute she was until that moment. I guess I was distracted by Monica's beauty and vivaciousness.

In the last couple weeks before Monica stood me up, I ended up talking to Jill when I called their apartment as much as I talked to my girlfriend.

"She's working late," Jill would tell me. "She's trying to impress the bosses."

Any doubts I had soon got lost in the easy conversations Jill and I shared.

Thoughts of Jill began a slow dissolve of the gloom of that unfortunate mid February evening. The anger that shared that sentiment began taking over. The bitch stood me up! And I realized something as well, perhaps out of thoughts of Jill or perhaps just reflecting on Monica and my relationship. Maybe I never loved the bitch. Maybe we just fucked well.

The phone rang.

I didn't want to answer it. I didn't want to hear any of the bitch's excuses probably said in a drunken slur.

"Joe, pick up," I heard the answering machine say. "If you're there, please pick up. It's Jill."

I nearly knocked the phone over picking it up. "Jill?"

"I just got back from work," she told me. "I just got your messages. I love my roommate to death, Joe, but I know how flighty she is. I just never knew what a fucking cunt she could be. I'm sorry."

"Why should you be sorry?" I asked her with a chuckle. I never heard Jill swear so strongly.

"I don't know," she chuckled. "I guess I'm sorry for you getting fucked over. You sound okay though."

"I haven't been. Not until now." Our conversation went silent for a moment. Jill understood. "I still have a reservation at the Tapas Lounge and two tickets to the Village Vanguard."

"When's the reservation?" she asked me.

"Forty-five minutes? Do you know where it is?"

I gave her the West Village address.

"Shit. That doesn't give me much time," she sighed.

"Time for what?" I asked her.

"I'm a girl, Joe."

"I noticed," I said.

Another silence. 

"See you there," she said.

"Can't wait," I replied.

********************

After dressing much quicker than I presumed Jill did in my best duds, black slacks, black fitted shirt, black leather shoes that felt like my usual walking shoes on my feet (thanks to some Italian intelligence), my full length black wool trench coat, and for color, a cashmere blue/gray scarf that matched my eyes (ironically bought for me by Monica) and even more colorful my ubiquitous multi striped and colored wool ski hat, the colors subdued enough not to be tacky, which I wore everywhere in winter, I trudged cross-town over a shallow layer of snow that coated the dirty piles along the streets making things look momentarily pristine. I noticed the streets had become wet instead of icy, the temperature a tad above freezing, and figured if Jill chose a taxi rather than mass transit it would be relatively easy driving. I had a feeling though that, unlike Monica, Jill would be a mass transit kind of girl. The subway actually had a stop not more than a block from the restaurant.

I took my time, even stopping at a florist to buy a dethorned white rose, having the counter girl clip it down to a small stem perfect for slipping behind Jill's ear contrasting with her deep black hair. I was lucky they had any left for Valentine's Day.

Nearing my destination I glanced at my antique rectangular Goering watch courtesy of my friend from my home town, an up and coming jeweler and watch fixer, and realized I may have dawdled too long. Stepping up my pace to the midtown midday pace I used to use in my first job delivering manuscripts from a Grand Central copy center, I couldn't halt my momentum, sliding into a petite woman just emerging from the subway who also seemed to be in a hurry. I grabbed her to me to prevent both of us falling and found myself embracing Jill.

"Whoah, sorry," I said before realizing it was her.

"Joe," she squeaked, adrenalized.

It must have been the intensity of the moment, all those roiling emotions beforehand and the startling collision. Whatever it might have been, when I steadied the two of us, I found myself lifting her into my arms and pressing my lips to hers in a passionate kiss. If surprise caused her to resist any, it only lasted a fraction of a second. Our passions equaled. We may have been there for a long while, forgetting where we were or anything else except the kiss, but a moment after I felt the electricity of her tongue tip tapping mine, her lips withdrew and she wriggled just enough to let me know she wished me to drop her to her feet.

"Joe," she breathed, "we're going to be late."

We grinned briefly at each other, hers looked adorable, mine probably goofy, before I took her petite hand in mine and pulled her into walking. "Let's go then," I said.

Maybe 5 minutes late, not nearly late enough to lose our reservation, we ended up waiting several minutes anyway for the big table to clear. 

Removing the Tartan patterned scarf that warmed her head and the modest peacoat that warmed her body to hang them on hooks in an alcove beside the entrance revealed Jill in all her glory. She wore a white blouse that hugged her middle and a charcoal gray midlength skirt that clung to her perfect round bottom, full yet somehow pert matching her full yet resilient breasts I could see suggested by an unbuttoned neckline showing firm cleavage and the edges of a black lacy bra. She kept her surprisingly perfect, strong yet not thick legs warm with what looked like black Danskin tights.

Stunned, I murmured, "What have you been hiding?"

She looked worried for some reason. "Too much?" she asked me, her dusky, Northern Mediterranean skin blushing subtly.

"Perfect," I managed to say, leaning down to brush my lips against her naked neck, strong and proud support for her head, revealed because her long hair had been wound on top of her head held together by what looked like crisscrossed white enamel chopsticks. "Let me finish it up," I added, extracting the rose from its bag and sliding it behind her ear.

After I removed my coat and hung it beside hers, she scanned me and told me, "You look great all dressed up. Yummy in fact." Again she blushed.

Leading her to the tapas/alcohol bar, I lifted her onto the remaining stool. "What would you like?" I asked her, still gazing at her in amazement.

"Besides you?" she murmured, barely heard. She glanced quickly behind the bar before returning her gaze back at me. "Ouzo?"

"Sounds good." Hating to look away, I had to to catch the bartender's eye. "Two Ouzo's over ice," I ordered.

"Would you like it on a tab?" asked the pretty Spanish looking lady.

"Yes please," I answered her before returning my gaze to cute perfection.

Like most Americans, Jill's bloodlines mixed. Unlike mine for instance, with its mix of Scotch/Irish and Eastern European Jew that long ago had weaned away most of its Semitic heritage resulting in pretty much Caucasian white, or the more Spanish/Semitic Jewish American Princess beauty of Monica, she looked unique. It came from a blend of one quarter Japanese with one quarter Greek and one quarter Southern Italian and one quarter Scots. The Mediterranean half darkened her skin and softened her hair and broadened her figure. The Asian quarter featured in her eyes, both in their near black irises and in their shape, and in the deep black luster of her hair. The Northern Britain heritage showed in her upturned, almost pug nose and possibly her bee stung lips as well as the subtlest of freckles on her face and chest. The exoticness of her looks had an oddness to it that distracted from what I realized was incredible cuteness and, looking deeper, memorable beauty. Being my favorite attribute of women, the intense cuteness factor did me in.

As we sipped the licorice flavored aperitif, we gazed at each other in an almost staring contest. Like them, we'd end up giggling, or in my case chuckling, but we continued.

Once called to dinner, Jill was surprised that we shared the large round table with four other couples. She understood when the waiter brought us the huge mound of saffron rice filled with delicacies from the sea.

"Paella!" she exclaimed. "I always wanted to try it."

"Me too," I chimed in. "It's supposed to be as good as any in Valencia."

One of the men we sat with raised his glass of deep red wine. "Happy Valentine's Day," he exclaimed.

"Happy Valentine's Day," the rest of us returned tapping wine glasses. Both Jill's and mine contained rich red Spanish house wine. 

I spooned up the dish for Jill first, filling her plate with deliciousness. She rubbed my arm as I served her, gaining my attention. "It is a Happy Valentines day after all," she said in her usual quiet voice.

"Very," I grinned, kissing her lightly once I set down her plate. Maybe I didn't hate the day so much after all.



My Funny Valentine Ch. 02



Chapter Two 

Valentine's Day Gets Happier

A great dinner featuring incredible food and easygoing conversations, most of them with fellow couples celebrating love day, Jill surprising me with her ease of conversation with these strangers, became followed by an amazing concert.

McCoy Tyner, John Coltrane's pianist during the sixties, had been playing solo at that time. So it surprised me that he was joined by a tenor saxophone and flute player and an upright bassist. No drums. Both were young and, as far as I knew, relatively unknown but of course excellent. I understood immediately why when they started the set with "My Funny Valentine," and followed with "Embraceable You." Each song, as Tyner's songs usually did, lasted over a half hour. And then, surprise of surprises, they played my favorite Coltrane song, and at least a top five favorite of any musician's, "A Love Supreme." Wow!

That lasted nearly an hour, and as it ended with Tyner banging away at his piano, the other musicians retreated. He shifted into another song, the banging which had become more and more physical became a true assault, and those fifths he often used started creating a new sound. The piano began to reverberate with a tone beyond the ringing tones of the inner piano strings, and his key strikes began to harmonize with it. It absolutely floored me. It's as if all of his career spanning twenty years had brought him to this. I became mesmerized for over an hour until he lifted his hands and the piano rippled out its last reverberations. I stood and clapped with the rest of the audience until he silenced us and invited the two others back and they played another love song, unknown to me, but sweet and quiet and relatively short. A quieter but no less appreciative applause followed, allowing him to end the concert with graceful satisfaction.

"Did you like it?" I asked Jill, catching my breath.

"It was...powerful," she said indecisively. "I loved the beginning, but the last half was...I wasn't sure what I was hearing. But Joe?"

"Yes?" I asked, lifting her to her feet with her hand in my hand.

"I loved how much you loved it."

I didn't know what to say. No woman had ever said anything so...loving to me before. Just briefly I imagined Monica's reaction. I figured she'd change the subject to "Let's go to the club and dance," or something at best. At worst she'd have whined, "What the fuck was that?"

I fell instantly in love. I embraced Jill, lifting her into my arms so our lips could meet straight on instead of me bowing low. The kiss lasted longer than the Village Vanguard staff appreciated, but we didn't care. I felt the heat of her sex pressed at my belly as my hands grasped her taut buttocks and pressed her into me. Cheeks got wet from the energetic tongue play. When it finally ended with a tap on my shoulder, I'm sure she felt my heat and hardness against her as she slowly slid down onto the two inch high heels of her sexy dark red leather boots.

"Sorry," I said to the bouncer before we headed to the coat check. I gave the cute blonde a five spot when she handed me Jill's coat, which I helped her in, and then my coat.

Outside the weather had chilled and the light snow had ended. "Should we catch a cab?" I asked Jill.

"Do you live far?" she asked me, huddled against my body.

"A bit of a ways. Maybe a half hour walk?"

"I don't mind. The air is so clean, so pristine right now," she said. "Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"I suppose you could walk me to the subway."

"I wouldn't leave you there. I'd accompany you home."

"I wouldn't want you to do that," she responded, enmeshing my gloved fingers with hers. "I'd rather walk you home...if that's okay."

I lifted a laugh to the building encroached sky. Looking down into her dark Asian eyes, so adorable, so loving, so hopeful and so unsure, I told her, "It's way more than okay, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart, hunh?" she murmured, her face pressed against my arm.

"The sweetest," I replied with complete honesty. I released my hand from hers and adjusted her scarf to better cover her head and her ears. I knew cold weather, living in the bitter cold Upper Midwest most of my life and knew the scalp lets a lot of internal heat out. "Better?" I asked her. She nodded and re-enmeshed our fingers.

As we walked we talked, our voices echoing off buildings in the relatively quiet streets. 

"So you really didn't like the concert?" I asked her.

"No I did. It's true I got off more from the intensity of your enjoyment then directly. I didn't really know how to respond. It was really...visceral."

"It was. Maybe that's why I liked it so much aside from the fact it was completely amazing." We both laughed. "I like my art visceral. It's why Pollack works for me and a lot of avant garde music. I don't really think about it. My gut reacts to it."

"So you're a Jackson Pollock fan?"

"Definitely. And Rothko."

"Maybe you could show me what you see."

"I'd like that."

"I think I would too."

We stopped and kissed.

As we returned to strolling I asked her, "So what can I watch you get amazed at? Fair is fair after all."

"Dance?"

"I like dance. I had a...never mind."

"What?"

"It's not really kosher talking about ex's with a new girlfriend."

"I don't mind," she said. "After all, my roommate is one."

She didn't respond to the girlfriend suggestion except to rub against me a little more as we walked. We shared a chuckle.

"Okay, I had a relationship with a girl in college who was a pretty amazing choreographer. She got me to enjoy modern dance."

"You really liked her."

"I was infatuated to tell you the truth. Obsessed even."

"You still think about her?"

"Sometimes. It's really irrational and stupid and ugly. It takes two to tango as they say and I'm too dense to realize the dance is done. It's a flaw of mine and I hope I've grown out of it. I hope you never see it. If you do, just slug me hard where it hurts."

"I will," she giggled. "So it's happened before?"

"Mostly in high school. I'd moon in front of their homes like it would ever make a difference."

"You flashed your butt at their home?"

"Now that might have made a difference," I replied and we laughed. "No, I got all moody as I passed by their houses a bunch of times hoping to catch them arriving or leaving or something. Like I said, stupid."

"And since college?"

"Never. But I've never really been in love since then, so I don't think it's been tested."

"Not even Monica?"

"Nope. I like her. She's a fun girl. I may have felt close at times. But thinking back I never really got that close, I mean any bonding of the heart or even the mind."

"Just the...genitals."

"Pretty much. We definitely bonded there."

"I heard," said Jill.

"Sorry," I replied.

"Not at all. It helped flesh out my imagination so to speak."

"Are you saying...you fantasized about me?"

"I have...for awhile."

"Since New Years?"

"Let's stop here. I'm hungry," she said as we passed by an all night Ukrainian diner which I happened to love.

"Good idea," I said.

On my recommendation we both ordered French toast which they made out of thick slices of black bread. Heavenly. We drank water. I always thought caffeine lessened my sexual prowess. Perhaps she thought the same.

While waiting to be served we leaned into each other and held hands, bare this time. "You don't remember me, do you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You remember Sheila? She worked at my publishers?"

"She was the receptionist a couple years ago. We chatted when I delivered manuscripts. We ended up going out. It didn't last. I guess I wasn't who she thought I was or something."

"But you remained friends?"

"Not really except she ended up eating at my restaurant a couple times. We had a couple nice chats. I think the first time her and her girlfriends were heading to the Public for a play. The second time she came alone...and invited me to the New Years Eve party. Wait. I always thought you looked familiar but couldn't place it. You...you were the receptionist before her. I remember. I thought you were cute but incredibly shy, but...I remember you started coming out of your shell. We talked for awhile, didn't we? I think your boss got pissed."

"I think she was more flabbergasted. I always put a brave front for clients, but some cute young man..."

"What did we talk about?" I said, bypassing the complement.

"Chaucer."

"Why the hell did we talk about Chaucer?"

"You were trying to write some kind of epic poem like Chaucer's but with a more arbitrary nature than a bunch of pilgrims, just people heading into Manhattan on a Monday stuck in traffic."

"Right. Never got anywhere with that. You actually made me feel a bit foolish. You had such depth of knowledge and I only skimmed the surface."

"Sorry. For what it's worth, I did think you had some incredible insights, real unique perspectives you don't get from your average Lit major."

"So I've been told," I chuckled. "My professors didn't know what to make of my insights, couldn't quite refute them, so they tore up my complete lack of structure instead."

"Wandering makes for terrible essays but pretty interesting conversations," said Jill squeezing my hand. "There's a lot to be said for that."

"I suppose," I chuckled, "but it does no good at grade time."

"Fuck grades," Jill growled cutely. "Life ain't grades."

"I bet you aced school." She nodded shyly. "So, Sheila..." I reminded her.

"You know she became an editor like me," Jill asked. I nodded. "We're also good buddies."

"So she told you about seeing me."

"Unh-hunh."

"And you asked her to invite me to the party?"

"Unh-hunh."

"I thought she thought I was some kind of jerk."

"She thought you'd rather fuck her ass than get to know her."

"She wanted to try it and so did I."

"I know. You just didn't click. You really didn't want to get to know her all that much."

"Probably not," I admitted. "Girls have accused me of being selfish in bed. I really like getting them off, but maybe I do get lost in it in the end."

"So to speak," she giggled.

It took me a moment but I got it and laughed. "I suppose." Becoming serious, I asked, "So two years? Why me?"

"I never get comfortable with guys, especially cute guys. And I felt so comfortable with you. We clicked."

"Maybe we did. You were flirting?"

"Trying to. Got interrupted."

"So why not invite me yourself."

"I...tried."

"You mean you hovered outside my restaurant like I used to around my obsessions."

"We're two of a kind, Joe."

"I hope so," I said and got a kiss for that. Food arriving slowed down conversation. We dug in and enjoyed. I managed to ask between bites, "So you had me at the party."

"Monica," she only said.

"Did she know?"

Jill shook her head.

"Ruled by my little head again," I sighed. "She's easy to look at, easy to desire, easy to take."

"She's just plain easy," Jill quipped sourly. "I had no chance."

I nodded. "It took you too long to gather up your nerve. She grabbed on quick and held. You must have hated her."

"That's complicated," she said. "I suppose I did, but I hated myself more. Such a fucking coward. I can't really hate her all that long. She's too exuberant. She sweeps you up in her tailwind. We're friends because she's fun and she brings me fun and I guess I bring her down to earth when she needs it, but only when she needs it."

"And you're both quite smart."

"That doesn't hurt," Jill nodded. She dug into the last of her French toast.

"So why so shy, Jill? You're cute and brilliant."

"Later," she said with her mouth full. "That's for morning," she added after she swallowed. The last word hardened my never quite soft cock.

"So what else can you take me to that I can get enthused about through you?" I asked during the two blocks walk to my apartment.

"Ballet?"

"Okay. You got me there. I love the music, but like opera, it's not enough to sustain my interest. Despite the visuals I can't help being put to sleep."

"Then watch me. I'll be riveted. And a gymnastics meet."

"Never been."

"Some people think they're as dull as paint drying. Not me."

"Why not combine both?"

"What do you mean?"

"The Big Apple Circus?"

"Ooh, I've always wanted to go."

"It's a date then."

"Cool."

Her enthusiasm swelled my heart and my cock. Her shell broken, she proved to be an adorable chick.

Her enthusiasm continued as soon as I opened the door to my lowly apartment.

"A bath as soon as you walk in," she exclaimed, albeit quietly. "Let's you know what's important."

"It's in the kitchen," I argued.

"Like I said," she smirked. "Is it clean?"

"You want a bath?"

"I think I need one, Joe," she answered solemnly. It wasn't about getting clean.

"We'll need to get naked."

"Of course," she said nervously.

I pulled her into my arms and made love to her mouth. It calmed her and excited her simultaneously. I broke it. 

"Just give me a minute," I said, heading the few steps to the kitchen sink and filling a couple of metal mixing bowls. I placed one on the clunking radiator between the front windows and the other on the one in the bedroom beneath the window to the air shaft. "The heat's fine here if a little high, but it gets dry," I explained. After removing the metal top to the old footed bathtub and setting it aside, I opened the taps and felt the heat until satisfied. Drying my hands I returned to the front room.

I pulled down the shades on the windows and sat in the red velvet loveseat shoved into the front corner of the apartment. I found it abandoned on the street like most of the rest of my furniture. "Come here, sweetheart," I said, patting my lap.

She soon occupied it and we began making love. Both sets of hands kept busy undoing and unwrapping blindly while our lips and tongues explored what turned us on.

My lips moved lower, kissing during the journey her ear and her neck. Her amazing breasts became naked standing sturdy like two large lightly tanned pears, C sized or maybe larger, with impressively long nipples already erect surrounded by wide areolas that could contain a half dollar, a little lighter than the deep brown erections at their center, subtly dotted, further proof of her excitement, with small bumps like uneven goose flesh. My tongue, along with fingers on the other breast, encouraged further engorgement of the areolas before squeezing with lips on one and fingers on the other, her nipples. I kept the pressure gentle and her moan and "Oh Joe," informed me I made the right choice.

Not long after, her breath nearing gasps, hands headed to genitals. Mine felt heat and hers felt hardness. She managed to unbuckle and unsnap and unzip and reach her petite hand through the opening of my jockeys and pull out my man meat.

"Oh God, it's so big," she murmured.

"Thanks," I chuckled. "But you better let me up."

"Why?" she pouted cutely, carefully coveting my purple/gray helmet with her hand.

"I don't want my kitchen floor flooded," I explained.

"Oops," she giggled, hopping off my lap. She giggled some more when my eight inches bounced while I stepped over to the tub and turned off the water.

I knew the source of the giggles because she continued them while she pointed at it, no longer framed by clothing because I quickly removed my pants and jockeys, when I walked back to her. She had taken over my seat and had undone her skirt, about to remove it.

"That's my job," I told her, kneeling in front of her and taking hold of the skirt and pulling it off. Unfortunately her black Danskins served as panty hose. She lifted up to let me roll them off, leaving her only in black silky panties matching in fabric and sexiness her bra. Before removing it as well, I decided to nuzzle what it hid. As I knelt before her, I gazed at her, gazing at perfection.

She could never be described as leggy unlike her much taller roommate who, with her small round butt and b cup breasts, had the build of a runway model. But Jill could have been a model herself, the kind that graced glossy magazines held in one hand by horny adolescents or all heterosexual men. Her legs may have been shorter but were anything but stubby. Thicker than her roommate's, especially at her strong thighs that flowed into her voluptuous butt, they still had grace and definition that made them exquisite. Those butt cheeks had a meatiness to them that could defend well against my passionate hand holds. Like her thighs they suggested great strength and power. And they looked intoxicating when I watched the muscle play whenever she walked in front of me.

Her torso narrowed between hips and chest. Not quite what would be described as hourglass, well developed muscles at her abdomen and lower back kept the middle too thick for that, the curve nevertheless stood out and looked seductive. Part of that curve came from the larger tusch and, perhaps even more, those deliciously full and resilient breasts.

"Wow," I said, sliding my hands up the inside of her magnificent legs, skipping teasingly past her moist pussy to slide along the sides of her torso, ending with them weighing her tits. "Why hide this?"

"Later," she responded as I bent down to finally taste her damp hidden folds. "Ooh," she moaned when my tongue pressed against silk panties, the flavor I craved already found at the saturated gusset. One of my fingers quickly found the place above the crease where women gain the most intense pleasure.

Obviously wanting no barrier to her pleasure, Jill pulled the gusset aside to give me direct access. A narrow slit appeared with a full bush of black soft curls. My tongue had to reach in to find her inner labia. She moaned at my discovery. My finger circled her clit, more pronounced and easier to find than any other I could remember. I stopped the finger's exploration to coat it in saliva before I gingerly placed it directly on the nub.

"Yes," she moaned, revealing her enjoyment of a direct assault. Still, I kept the rubbing gentle there. My tongue and lips however became more aggressive. I swept from bottom to top, reaching deeper with each sweep, sometimes nibbling with lips covered teeth on those hidden labia that became less hidden like her clit with their engorging, sometimes nibbling similarly on her clit while dabbing at it or carving shapes with my tongue tip. My finger pressed higher then, above her clit, before my mouth retreated south again and the finger returned to continue its more and more aggressive rub.

I went lower at the beginning of one sweep, spearing into her little butthole. It brought forth a giggling moan and caused her to begin to writhe as if she wanted to pull away from the attention. The mixed signal made me decide to forgo that particular area for the time being. 

But that writhing seemed to kick her into motion. Her undulations maybe did tell me what she wanted or didn't want, because they guided my tongue, directing it upwards. 

I felt her tremble around my tongue, a small orgasm I figured. Tasting more of her sweet and pungent nectar, I decided to step up the attention to give her the coup de grace.

My lips gripped her around her clit while my tongue carved steady letters into it while my finger moved inside her seeking the textured g-spot. Once found, I rubbed gently, slowly increasing the friction. Meanwhile my hand not occupied with pussy brought fingers to her nipples, squeezing one and then the other and also bringing more and more pressure to bear.

Her undulations intensified so that my mouth had to ride her motions like riding a bucking bronco. Her moans became higher pitched and quicker with her quickening breath. They took on a word, "Fuck," repeated with greater frequency, louder and yet breathlessly until she squealed "Joe!" She went stiff with her hips lifting her pussy forcefully against my mouth. I licked even harder at her clit while my finger felt rippling of her interior around it. My mouth opened and filled with a stream of liquid pleasure. She shivered a moment and relaxed. Only then did I stop my assault, easing back with a final kiss on her clit, gazing up at her blushing face.




My Funny Valentine Ch. 02



She had the loosest, most pleasure saturated look I had ever seen. From the placidly smiling lips emerged a quiet, breathless, "Wow." Lifting my head to her level, I leaned in for a kiss, feeling heat and softness on her bee stung lips. 

When it ended seconds later, she pulled me into her arms. "I never..." she murmured directly into my ear.

"Never what, sweetheart?"

"Never thought it could feel so...incredible."

I chuckled. "It can only get better."

"H...How?"

"You've only felt my tongue and fingers inside you."

She tightened. "Let's take a bath Joe...unless," she looked at my throbbing manhood. I don't think it had ever been more erect. "Should I...?" she asked reaching down to it and delicately gripping it. 

"I can wait," I somehow said.

"Show me how to make you cum," she said, rubbing a little harder. "Why don't you sit and get comfortable."

"Maybe that's best. Right now I'm on a hair trigger."

"Show me, Joe," she said again, bringing my much bigger hand to my cock. "Rub it for me."

"Only if you help," I bargained.

"Okay," she smiled.

"I should grab my lotion," I said while placing my hand on hers, putting more pressure on her rubbing of my cock head.

"What if...What if I made it slippery for you?" illustrating by leaning down and tentatively licking my shaft.

"Ooh," I responded. My cock throbbed.

"I guess you like that idea," she giggled.

"Very much," I said. 

She continued licking. "I hope this isn't gross," she said when she placed my glans just below her mouth and let a drop of spit land on it. "I saw it in some porno," she explained, rubbing the wetness over the taut purple head.

"Nothing is gross in sex," I groaned, "if both parties desire it."

She nodded, her eyes attendant on my cock. "Rub it for me, Joe. I want to see how you make yourself cum."

"I will if you will," I suggested.

"You...want me to masturbate in front of you?"

"Fair is fair," I said, grinning.

Returning the grin, she sat back beside me opening her legs wide again.

"Could you hand me your panties?" I asked.

"Why?"

"I got to have something to catch my cum."

"Of course, naughty boy," she smiled.

And thus we began. I watched her wet her fingers in her mouth and begin rubbing her clit and twisting her nipples. She watched me fist my glans and bounce my balls. Occasionally I would release my grip and gently slap or wave my cock.

"Why do you do that?' she asked.

"It delays the inevitable," I tell her. "I want to watch you cum first."

"Let's try cumming together," she suggested. "I'm not far off."

"Okay," I said, grabbing her panties and wrapping my glans in them.

"What are you doing?"

"I like the feel of silk," I shrugged.

"Naughty boy," she giggled.

I watched her get more aggressive with her strokes, pulling her nipples away from her chest with surprising pressure. You can learn a lot watching a girl masturbate.

"Fuck, Joe," she moaned. "Almost..."

I let go of my resistance watching her writhe and blush in pleasure, her adorable face expressively scrunching up.

"Oh God!" I moaned feeling the surge of ejaculation overwhelm me.

"Show me Joe!" she practically screamed as she got shaken as well by an intense orgasm.

I understood, creating a gap between my spouting little cock slit and her panties I caught the semen with.

"Oh wow," she moaned watching the arc of creamy semen spurt out and get caught. "That's so cool."

After the second spurt, the distance lessened, so I covered the rest up with the ever dampening panties. "I guess show time's over," I murmured.

"Good enough," she murmured back with her adorable soft, profoundly satiated grin.

Moments later, after a soft and warm kiss she asked, "Bath time?"

Walking naked hand in hand to the tub, I helped her into the not quite too hot bath water and followed a second later. She occupied my lap while I used a washcloth to clean her. Yes I spent more time cleaning breasts and thighs and the slit between those strong surfaces, but her back, arms, the rest of her legs and her middle torso took attention too, especially since I tended to press deeper than a surface cleansing should have needed, essentially massaging her. It's what she needed.

"Monica told me you rub good," she told me, approving my pressure.

Of course my cock got as hard as ever enjoying her sensuous, exquisite curves. She managed to encourage it with squirming that became more and more directional, more of a fucking motion over the top of it, her lips squishing with ever more slippery contact back and forth.

By the time I finished cleaning/massaging her right hand, her left hand already done, I had covered all but her calves and feet. "I want you to fuck me," she said, her rubbing of my cock having become more intense, "but I've heard water isn't the best lubricant."

"You heard right, sweetheart," I said, suckling at her neck. "Let's switch places first so I can finish."

"Then I can clean you, too," she agreed.

We stood and carefully negotiated the narrow space until I lowered onto my bottom and she sat behind me. I could feel her wet (from her own lubricant) pussy press hotly against my coccyx as is if it were there for her stimulation. Her legs wrapped around my waist to enable the contact. Her feet ended up in my lap, arches wrapped around my pole.

When I removed one from its pleasurable contact in order to complete the washing/massage on the calves, feet and toes, the other remained pressing my cock against my thigh. Meanwhile she washed my back. She used pressure too like I had and it felt soothing and relieving.

By the time I finished with one set of toes and began working her other calf, her pressure lessened, the cleaning became more leisurely and distracted. "I feel so relaxed I could pass out," she told me in a dulcet tone I could barely hear. 

I chuckled, explaining, "Reflexology, the massage of the foot does that."

With the end of the second foot massage, she murmured, "I can barely move I'm so relaxed."

Standing, I helped her to her feet and we made a bit of a mess on the kitchen floor rinsing off our bodies with the hand-held sprayer before I helped her out of the bath and toweled her off. She toweled me off too, but with a lot less effort, though she did manage to get my rigid shaft extremely dry.

Leaving the towels on the floor to absorb the wetness we had created, I led Jill to the bed.

"Lie down Joe," she ordered me gently. When I did, I found a delightful sight hover above my eyes and slowly lower. She had straddled my head and brought her pussy to my lips.

Intoxicated by everything about her, the shape of her backside, the taste of her quim, the heat of it surrounding my tongue and the texture, the pleasure I took from her became secondary to the feeling of my cock engulfed in wet heat.

"Jill," I moaned.

"Mmm," she buzzed around my cock.

"Oh my God," I responded.

I heard a sort of giggle and felt it even more.

Too tentative to be expert, she still found a way to make her first foray into fellatio an incredible experience. She had learned I liked her tongue and had seen I preferred my glans and its edges for excitation. So lips caressed those edges while her tongue lavished its texture against the glans. Her mouth lifted off and she fisted me like I had fisted myself earlier. "A little harder," I told her, my only needed instruction. She even bounced my balls with gentle care as I had done. 

I expressed my appreciation for her fine work by deep sweeping tongue work, hard suckling and tongue dances on her clit and squeezing her deliciously muscled butt cheeks. 

Just after she began to undulate, she ended her cocksucking and my pussy sucking, shifting her body towards the foot of the bed until she straddled my cock and lowered herself onto it, continuing to face away from me.

Her pussy opened to my big cock reluctantly from its portal lips to its deepest depths. Only the slipperiness of her abundant natural lubrication, my saliva added to it, could ease the journey. And it was a lengthy journey, inching in a little further before lifting off a bit. But finally, when my glans felt the pressure of her cervix, it ended. 

"You okay?" I managed to say through my gasp as her butt cheeks pressed against my pelvis.

"So full," she moaned. "So good."

"I'm glad," I said.

"Me too," she giggled, which I felt in rippling squeezes around my cock. My laugh must have had similar results, because she moaned.

Then she began her ride, at first slow, but with ever increasing speed. I felt like I'd gone to heaven if heaven consists of unadulterated ecstasy.

"You're safe?' I managed to ask. 

"Unh-hunh. The pill," she told me.

As she started to wind into a gallop I asked her, "I want to see you."

"Later," she moaned.

When my hips lifted to meet her downward strokes, she moaned, "Can you keep still?"

"I'll try," I said. She giggled within her moan and rode me even faster.

I couldn't see exactly, but the way the muscles on her shoulders played and the bend of her elbows I figured she helped her pleasure as she had when masturbating by pulling on her nipples and rubbing her clit.

This time was different though. She kept silent albeit with loud panting. Finally she spoke with a tight high voice, "Cum for me, Joe," and bounced faster than I thought possible.

Somehow keeping still had brought me more pleasure than if I'd participated in the fucking. It made me feel every moment of tight friction against my cock. And when I let my balls release their built up sperm I nearly passed out from the intensity of pure pain/pleasure bliss. 

"Fuck," I roared.

She remained silent as she pressed hard against me, my spurts splashing directly against her cervix which seemed to convulse from the hosing as did those tight walls surrounding my throbbing cock. They rippled around me, milking me with a passion. I could see her gorgeous backside undulate as if a physical manifestation of waves of pleasure cascading through her body from bottom to top and back down.

She eventually collapsed forward with me still attached inside her, her breasts pressed most delightfully against my knees. From that position, my penis finally emerged from its new favorite home along with a stream of liquid drowning my balls.

"Jill?" I said, tentatively rubbing her sweat slickened back.

"It was good, Joe," she said quietly to my feet.

Turning around, revealing a ravishing smile, a smile of ravishment, she slinked across the landscape of my six feet six body with feline sensuality until her face hovered above mine.

"In fact it was fucking awesome," she roared lower pitched than I'd ever heard; her eyes intense, a lioness ready to pounce upon her prey. This cute feline creature with feral abandon feasted on my lips with hers.

"What's this about?" I asked minutes later when our lips separated. My fingers combed through her sweat dampened hair and hers combed through mine.

"Later, Joe," she said with a wry grin. "Could you read me a poem?"

"A poem?"

"A love poem preferably. Do you write those?"

"Okay," I shrugged.

"Cool." She rolled onto her side.

Switching on the desk light that also served as my reading light in bed caused both of us to flinch a moment, but our eyes soon recovered. I knelt in front of my two drawer metal cabinet and searched through the manila file folders until I chose one of the many unpublished manuscripts and pulled it out, placing it on my desk. Thumbing through the pages brought me to the poem.

I pulled the large pillow under my shoulder when I returned to bed. Jill covered us with the sheet and the quilt I used to keep warm at night and rested her head against my chest and the right half of her body against my side. I recited:

Reverberant Love

Don't make me free of it

Let me see you alit

The magnificent you I know

With your inner glow

When I see you pass me by again

I want you to see through my eye my friend

The way it never lets you go 

You have that inner glow

I cannot escape the thrill of you

The absolute chill of you

Makes me shiver in delight

You are the highlight of my life

Not to be free of what, you ask

What do you want from this task

You hold me to

Free of knowing you

You see I'm bereft of one

Without you I have none

Who bestows upon me grace

An inner glow lights your face

It's like I'm lonely in a crowd

Because none are so endowed

With that beatific light

That lights the darkest night

I'm dependant on your soul

To share and make me whole

With you we are one

Without you I am none

How can you be so sure

My presence will be your cure

It's your heart light that guides me

Your inner glow lets me see

Your beauty vibrates a tone

For me and me alone

Who else can hear that toll

Only my ear only my soul

Who else can see you shine

Above and beyond mankind

Your inner being glows

It's only for me it shows

We had our time however mundane

We shared a bed now you're insane

Insisting you only you for me

Reasoning quite unreasonably

Oh baby oh baby don't walk away

In my arms you should always stay

Gods have spoken they have shown me your light

A shiny beacon in darkest night

Oh baby oh baby you're my angel alone

Why else do you glow and the rest look like stone

Let's talk it over, let's get a room

Where'd she go, oh, she joined the gloom

"That's no love poem. That's obsession. And more lyrics than poetry at that," Jill critiqued with a giggle. "Who was it?"

"The dancer," I answered. "I actually thought she glowed. And I don't usually rhyme and my language is much...uh...thicker I guess usually."

"Can I have another?" she asked me cutely so I had to obey, getting up and grabbing another poem from the same file, deciding to grab a second one at the last second, and returning to lie in the same place with her lying against my side again.

"Here's one more similar to my usual style with a similar name called Reverberant," I said and recited.

She danced with the night immersed

Enclosed she danced within its body

That held the twinkling stars she danced

With them amongst them against them she

Danced to the rhythm and counterpoint

Night clung to her even as she danced

Even as she swept through it it held

Tight against her skin holding even

As it held the many points of distant

Lights moving her even movements

Points of the evening netting where

Strings converge where the strings

Are a fabric where night abandons

Light where she dances not a tangle

Of threads but the web she wears

While dancing with and within night

Yet that absence of light within which

She danced contrasted with her presence

Which exuded inner heat she appeared

Bright, aglow, with the moon her aura

The moon a part of the net of night

A part that hung behind her head an

Angel glow a part of Renaissance

Iconography the glow showed

Beatitude or the woman set apart

From others and that is what I saw

When I saw her that inner glow

Made manifest I saw her glow cast

In contrast to the night it shined

So brilliant it etched into my mind

"It ended up rhyming in the end," she giggled. "Same topic, different outcome though. You two could still be lovers."

"Or I sat in awe of her, finding her unapproachable."

"It does seem more of a love poem though," she decided. "Another one?"

"I came prepared this time," I smiled. "This one's neither about love nor obsession."

"So what's it about?"

"Lust. And it's even more typical of my writing."

Along way away from saying I love you

The absence of mirth is only incidental because so far no instance

Of commingling not yet only a glance out the side of my eye

To see you strolling beside your lover with you flexing thighs 

And the most crowning of asses above them swaying and hungry

For my cock to jam inside and jam you all up with your own 

Slick wetness makes it easy as I push and press and thrust into your

Deep cunt the lips and tunnel of it luxurious throbbing flexing

Giving and taking with the most abundant pleasure imaginable

Jiggling what's above the large almost loose but somehow taut breasts

Swaying to the motion of the journey inside of my most happy cock

Appreciating all friction of your interior ever tight and tightening cunt 

And the throbbing and the heat and the wet and the sobs of pleasure

Racketing the air making it subject to the powers of sex within its lair

Watching your stomach rising at each thrust making more room

As I hunt for the end of the cave and maybe what's beyond inside

The egg lab coiled up just beyond my tip the entrance for my cum

To trip inside and slide into the embattled egg popping it silently

Until some time after the explosion is at least a hint a cycle cue

For further developments but there is no meeting likely of egg and

my sperm what with the most dependable of contraceptive devices

Pure (so to speak) imagination that never exists in the world really

"Mmm, a dirty poem," she giggled softly.

"For some reason I've been writing more of those," I replied.

"It's because you're a naughty boy," she murmured, barely heard. Soon after her breath steadied in sleep.

I kissed her cute forehead and thought about my Valentine's Day and the night following it and sighed contentedly before thought became disintegrated by sleep.

...to be continued...



My Funny Valentine Ch. 03



Chapter Three

The Morning After Valentine's Day

I awoke as if nothing changed during sleep. Jill's adorable raven hair head remained against my chest. However something felt different.

"It's hard," she said, looking up at me with a look of wonder and excitement.

"It does that in the morning. It's called morning wood or a piss hard on. It keeps me from pissing the bed."

She pouted cutely and continued rubbing my erection. "I hoped you dreamed of me in your naughty little mind."

"If I did, I don't remember. But reality's better anyway," I smiled, pulling her up by her butt, feeling heat and humidity between those cheeks, sliding the middle finger into slipperiness, bringing her face to mine for a kiss.

If she had morning breath I didn't notice, and she didn't seem to either as we lingered on the kiss, stoking our desires. Tongues came happily out to play. She slid on top of me. I felt my cock tip press against my finger. Another of my fingers added to the first to surround the tip and guide it in to heaven.

Only then did our lips part. She had to lower her body to let my cock penetrate her very ready pussy.

"Oh Joe," she murmured, her eyes wide. "You open me up so much. It's so intense." 

Lifting her body brought a wider angle at our conjunction, about forty-five degrees, as her strong thighs held her and let her lower her pussy before lifting again. The angle also provided a view of her amazing tits dangling from her muscled torso so that the tips barely grazed my chest as she shifted. I wanted more contact with them. I had a hand still enjoying her fine ass and the slick movement of my cock sliding inwards and outwards clutched by her labia. The other hand soon busied itself fondling her tits.

"Mmm," she moaned, her nipples once again revealed as intensely sensitive. The pleasure seemed to lessen the carefulness of filling her small sex with my big sex. Seconds later I was completely embedded, again with my tip resting against her cervix. We played, muscles tightening and loosening causing pleasant sensations deep within her for both of us.

"Joe?"

"Hmm?" I responded, opening eyes I hadn't even realized I'd closed, concentrating solely on the feelings our genitalia created. Her face looked taut with emotion.

"I was raped Joe, several times," she said, quietly, without emotional nuance, but I could see her dark eyes pool. I didn't know what to say, but I must have started saying something because her petite finger pressed on my mouth. "Sshh. Let me talk. I have to do this."

Her hips began to lift and fall in a shallow and gentle fuck. She kept it up throughout, keeping me hard when what she said made me more apt to soften. Even more successfully, her Kegel muscle play rippled around me on occasion, seemingly the perfect moments when even her strokes weren't effective.

"I so wanted to be a gymnast," she continued. "I had the body for it, strong and small. I thought I had friends sharing my desire. They did, but with an obsessive competitiveness that worked against sharing. I couldn't help that I was better than them.

"They took their revenge. It was sort of a training camp. In order to create the perfection needed to compete in the Olympics, it needed to be year long.

"I shared a room with a girl. I thought she'd become my best friend even if she and I didn't have all that much in common except gymnastics of course. I hate to say it of others, but she had a dim mind, and I guess I've always been bright. She tended towards gossip, a spiteful and narrow minded habit I could never embrace, more concerned with the bigger picture I guess. But I tried being her friend and she seemed to accept me.

"Anyway, one of her favorite topics of conversations was an older boy. Of course he was ripped and gorgeous so I couldn't help agreeing about his cuteness and a desire to mate with him so to speak.

"He was a cocksure asshole which I guess attracts us girls, and it did me then. He also liked hovering around the girls, even playing at coaching us.

"After one day training he managed to meet me alone. He said he wanted to talk to me alone about a problem I had or something so I let him into my room.

"Suddenly he was on me ripping away my shorts and shirt. I was strong but he was much stronger. Soon enough he sank he was raping me. It hurt of course, tearing away my hymen, but he was actually pretty small, so I guess it could have been worse. 

"Once he came, he growled at me. 'You think you're better than the rest of us.' I told him I didn't think anything of the kind. 'Bullshit,' he said. 'Scouts come and all they see is you and your prissy little body and your showoffy moves. No more of that or you get more of this. And not a word to anyone or you'll be the one tossed out, not me. You'll be labeled a whore.' And he dressed and left.

"Seconds later my roommate saw me sobbing. Instead of comforting me she called me a frigid stuck up bitch not even appreciating a good fuck by a cute stud. That got me even more freaked out.

"Next time he raped me, I came into the room with him fucking my roommate. I thought he was raping her too. Turns out I was wrong. When I tried throwing him off her, he did get off her mid fuck, his puny cock glistening with her obvious excited lubricant, and I found myself once more on my back getting raped, this time with my roommate helping. They even had me turn around...like I am now with you, and as if I was the one in control my roommate lifted me and dropped me onto his cock. It chafed until I fucking lubricated, and then it only hurt my heart.

"I know I should have just quit, but my foolish young heart wanted to be a competitive gymnast and my mom really wanted it too, so I stayed. And got raped some more. I did learn to masturbate then, to at least not have it hurt so much.

"When the training finally ended, it seemed like forever, I told my mom I wanted private training. I think she could tell how distraught I was, and she agreed. Our family's fairly well off, but it was a burden.

"Anyway, I grew these," she smirked, sadness still evident, grabbing her breasts. "So dreams of Olympic championships faded along with dreams of becoming a prima ballerina. For some reason I wanted to be both. And I disappeared into books.

"It didn't end there, though. I did well in high school, taking classes at the nearby university when only in my junior year. There I found another rapist. Not physical, but mental. I think if it had been physical, that is if I had seduced him or something, he might never have gotten in my face. I think his anger came from his fear of succumbing to his lust for young flesh.

"It was a pretty basic Lit class, but the asshole was demanding. We read the basics of mostly American early twentieth century novelists like Hemingway, Dos Passos, Fitzgerald and the like, but he promised extra credit if we tackled either Joyce or Becket. So of course I tried Ulysses. Big mistake.

"The novel confused me. I met with him about it. I really had incredible respect for him. He was a great teacher, witty and insightful and able to pull insights out of a reluctant class of freshmen. But for some reason he seemed to be angrier everytime we met. Finally, when I finished the essay, actually not as bad as I thought it would be, he had me meet him in his office. And he fucking yelled at me right in my face. 'How could a little piece of shit girl think she has anything to say about Joyce? What do you think you're even doing in my class? You're only good for reading trash magazines and watching soap operas and spouting out babies! Get the fuck out of here you fucking cunt!'

"It literally blew my mind. Two very different things happened. One, ironically, I became even more determined to excel at writing essays or anything else having to do with academics just to show the asshole I guess. The other though was completely the opposite. With the physical rapes before and the mental rape, it seemed like any time I showed myself to others with any semblance of confidence or ability, I was ripped apart. I could barely talk to strangers, especially males.

"I'm not done," she said when she saw me about to speak. Instead of silencing me with a finger, she silenced me with a sweet kiss, which I found much better. "It's the dreams, both sleeping and waking. It's always those faces right in my face, those rapists, the gymnast and the professor. They both had that in common, being right in my face with their ugliness. Even the roommate makes an appearance. When I mean awake, it's like they flash inside my eyes when I'm in a social situation, beating me down, making me shy away.

"But it never happened with you," she told me, her voice tightening as her hips started working harder, lifting and falling. "I thought it might, but it never did." She brought my hand back to her breast and squeezed my fingers to show she wanted her nipples more abused than I had thought. I did as commanded and she moaned. I moved my hand off her ass after a caress of her slick and widened labia to bring it between our bodies, attaching fingers to her clit and rubbing. 

"Mmm, yes," she moaned, speeding up even more and lifting higher and dropping swifter. "It never happened with you," she repeated unsteadily. "Not during that first conversation that ended up making me wet. Not when my slutty roommate introduced me to you even with her arms around you, possessing you. Never at my apartment. Never. Oh fuck. But I wanted to be careful. That's why I couldn't face you for our first fuck. I had to know if I could lose myself in it. No ugly faces. No pain. At least not much." She giggled tightly and cutely. "You are fucking big. It was fucking incredible. You are fucking incredible. And then I faced you I after I came, and all I saw is you, you're adorable lovable face. I knew I could enjoy this. I knew I could..."

"Could what?" I asked.

"Could love you."

I smiled. "I love you too, sweetheart."

"Good," she moaned, her smile tight but large. "Then turn me over and fuck the shit out of me."

"Are you sure?"

"I won't be until you do."

"Then hold on," I smiled, pulling her down hard, pubic bone pressing against pubic bone, cock tip pressing against cervix, ending her ride. 

"Oh fuck," she moaned, obviously not minding the cervical pressure. In fact the opposite. "Hold me a second," she moaned, writhing and going still. I felt the ripples of her orgasm dance across my shaft, my balls getting coated by her orgasmic nectar.

"Hold on," I said again, and somehow she did while still awash in her abating orgasm. 

Though densely packed, she was still a petite woman, and I had no problem turning us over and recommencing the fuck. I did so with powerful thrusts if not with a lot of speed.

I watched her carefully. I watched her eyes open. They opened wide. And then she smiled. My heart danced a jig. "Faster," she groaned.

I pounded the shit out of her. And she responded by lifting into my thrusts creating even greater meetings of loins. We panted our pleasure. We moaned and groaned and growled with it. She said "fuck" quite a lot, and "Oh Joe," for climactic moments of which there were three. The last I greeted with my own, "fuck," as I pressed deep and writhed against her, my torso undulating with every explosive release of sperm and semen into her convulsing depths.

Only then did she release her nipples which she had been squeezing with abandon. Only then did our eyes close. Only then did our lips meet for a long and hot and sloppy kiss.

"I love you, Joe," she whispered into my ear afterwards as we clutched together in an intense hug.

"I love you Jill," I whispered right back directly into her diminutive ear.

We ended up taking another bath, less long and massaging but just as sensual. After drying she put on one of my white shirts I wear for work. The tails reached low on her thighs. She looked so sexy in it I was tempted to restart the loving. All I got was a kiss and a mutual squeeze of butts. "Sore," she told me.

"I could kiss it and make it better."

She pulled me down for a kiss. "Maybe later," she said with a giggle.

"Maybe?"

"Okay, definitely, Naughty Boy."

"But I'm your naughty boy."

"And I'm your sweetheart."

"Definitely." We kissed again.

...to be continued... 



My Funny Valentine Ch. 04



Chapter Four

The Next Valentine's Day

"I'm ready for my close up, Mr. DeMille," said Monica haughtily leaning against the balustrade looking nothing like Gloria Swanson for whom she supposedly emulated. For one she was too tall and lithe, not the petite silent movie star. Secondly she was way too young. And, perhaps most importantly, she dressed in a sheer flowing robe that did little to conceal her pert tits and the small nipples that topped them and the dark hair that crowned her pussy. But somehow she still expressed the insanity and the excitement and the intensity of that formidable final shot of Sunset Boulevard. Monica could act.

And she did for the 16mm Bolex movie camera whirring in my hand.

I couldn't pull back to reveal a throng of cops and journalists there for her arrest for murder. I didn't have any extras. All I had was the cool balustrade, provided by the house of her parents in the Hamptons. They had the perfect timing to be vacationing in the heat of the Bahamas.

I briefly glanced at my best friend from high school clutching the boom mic to capture her words and the hard-on I could see pressing out his pants. I could relate.

But I had to hold the focus as her face filled the frame. Another shot would hopefully match it, one shot by Jill manning my camera, because when it pulled back, I would be in the scene floating on my back in a pool seemingly dead except for the erection I sported like a periscope. Monica enclosed that shaft in her mouth, rolling on a condom and squatting down on it before the scene shifted mid fuck to a waterbed.

What was I doing plunging into a woman's hole not my true love's? Art. Pornographic art to be specific.

I always wanted to make artistically rendered pornographic film. 

We'd been working on it all that week. We'd already shot the swimming pool scene. Monica's ridiculously wealthy parents had an indoor/outdoor heated pool in their mansion. And the fuck scene on the waterbed as well.

We included Monica and Dave, my old best friend who I had convinced to move to Manhattan for his jeweler and watch fixing career. And my other high school best friend who currently resided on Manhattan Island for his residency at Columbia Medical School. And friends of his, two nurses who shared him and each other and their formidable bodies for my art. Bob always had a knack for attracting women, often without much effort, the lucky bastard. Finding lovely and sexy and intelligent bisexuals to share his bed definitely became a peak for his streak of luck.

And Jill.

"That's a wrap," I said. It couldn't have come soon enough.

"At last," said my lover, reading my mind, removing the camera from my hand and filling my arms with her taut and shapely little body. I bowed down to take her lips in mine, the passion intensifying when I penetrated her mouth with my tongue, meeting hers for an electrifying battle for occupation, her mouth and mine.

When the embrace broke, she led me to our room, or at least the room we'd been staying in, passing by the embrace of Dave and Monica. 

Truth be told, Dave's decision to move had more to do with meeting Monica during a visit than any hold I might have on him or the perhaps more varied watches to fix compared to those found in Minneapolis. He shared her vision of fun, often drug fueled. Despite that and because unlike me he had two Jewish parents, her parents actually liked him (they never met me). That she stood inches above his short stature didn't seem to bother either one of them. Jill and I had a far more extreme difference in height, nearly a foot and a half compared to a few inches. Maybe a hidden sexist attitude made me consider their height difference vis a vis their gender somewhat odd. Jill thought it cute.

Speaking of Jill, she led me into a room shuttered from the midday sun with only candlelight dissolving any gloom, albeit with quite a few candles. Their sensuous ever shifting light revealed a bed with turned down covers covered in rose petals. And no, it wasn't a waterbed, thank god. That was the parents'. 

After another lengthy kiss, our hands defining each other's shape, including her breasts and the heat of her inner thighs and the bulge in my trousers, we separated and stared at each other as we stripped naked. Nothing fancy. There was music, the sensuality of Eno's Discrete Music, but it wasn't there for dancing. We simply stood in awe of each other and the revelation of our bodies. Seeing her curvaceous perfection never got old. And for some reason she loved my long lean body, nothing profoundly muscular about it. I had neither a six pack (she nearly did) nor exaggerated pecs, but muscles were there, just lean and subtle. I was actually in the best shape of my life. 

Unlike me though, who loved every curve of her, from her broad thick shoulders to her taut, shapely abdomen, to the gently narrowing of her legs from powerful thighs to shapely calves, and definitely her large proud tits capped by impressive areolas and nipples and her full and awesome ass, my lover had a definite preference. Not just the lengthy narrow cock that filled her perfectly, but that entire area, including my butt. "Cute face, cute butt," she'd tell me, often giving both sets of cheeks a rub.

My cock bouncing free of my tighty whities struck her interest as well as literally as it bounced against her chin when she knelt in front of it. "Naughty thing," she murmured, restraining it with her petite hand and bringing it to her mouth. Those words ended our silence.

I ended mine with, "Oh fuck." I loved the way her bee stung lips expanded wide for my glans, sliding across them as they journeyed across the edge and back. Wet heat felt even better when her tongue slathered it with spit and incredible caresses.

She played the head like a veteran musician creating exquisite tones from her instrument before pushing it deeper. The disappearing shaft got the tongue treatment as well. And when she extracted it from her oral depths using suction bringing greater pressure to it, it felt amazing. Like opening up a tight virgin, she kept the ever deepening occupation of her mouth by my cock a breathtakingly slow journey until the tip tapped at the entrance to her throat. She immediately pressed forward as if welcoming the quiet knock by flinging open the door and embracing, swallowing against the gag reflex which caressed my sensitive glans briefly before it passed the entrance and filled that tight space. Best of all, she watched me grimace as I moaned, "Fuck Jill." Despite her well filled oral cavity and throat, I could see the smile in her eyes as they shone damply in the candlelight. In fact her eyes had never strayed from my face throughout the blow job, watching my ecstasy. She loved seeing it, knowing she gave it to me.

Bobbing into me, her lips meeting the base of my cock, the bottom one pressing into the top edge of my scrotum before withdrawing, three, four, five times she sent my cock deep. Then I felt air as she let herself breathe, her hand replacing her lips rubbing my hard yet spongy glans. Not long recovering, she let my cock once more thrust past her uvula and into her throat. And repeat.

Pleasure weakened me. I could barely stand. My legs widened for support. I never held her head though. It's one thing she couldn't get comfortable with. 

The fourth time inside her throat she could see my face tighten and feel my cock expand. She kept it deep longer, ruffling her throat muscles across it, sending me into climax.

"Jill," I roared. "Gonna cum!"

Pulling it out until her lips clasped the helmet edge of my glans, her hands milked my shaft with perfect pressure, milking the sperm right out of my balls. I spurted and she swallowed, gulping down mouthfuls of hot, sticky semen. The smile in her eyes never disappeared. In fact it intensified, filled with pride of accomplishment and glee for giving me such pleasure.

When her strokes became too pleasurable to stand, I eased away. Instead of letting me get too far, she gripped the base of my cock and gently licked the last of my ejaculate oozing from my pee hole as my cock slowly softened. After a final kiss of the head, she began to stand. I helped her and embraced her once on her feet and kissed her, my tongue sharing the burden of my less than flavorful essence.

"Champagne," I grinned.

"Good idea," she replied, returning the grin. She sat on the bed as I popped the cork with a waiter's finesse and poured the Moet et Chandon into two fluted glasses, handing her one.

We tapped glasses. "Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart."

"Happy Anniversary," she returned.

We kissed softly, gently, warmly, lovingly, before sipping more of the delicious effervescent liquid.

"Keep drinking, my love," I said, setting my own glass down after a quick swallow and kneeling between her lovely legs. Licking up her thighs, moving ever closer to her center, when I got there I tasted her own liquid, my favorite intoxicant, better than the best champagne in the world.

"Mmm," she hummed against the edge of the glass. "Ooh," she moaned, her pouty lips forming a delicious circle. "Yes," she purred. "I love your tongue."

"I love yours too," I told her, a brief reprieve from my caresses which I made up for by intensifying them. I had been lapping up her essence from bottom to top, teasing at the end by skipping past her rigid nub. The next stroke went deeper and came out high and flat rubbing directly across that impressive clit.

"Oh fuck Joe," she moaned.

Strokes quickened and shortened and stayed longer at her clit until my lips captured it and the tip carved letters into it. I watched her climb inexorably to ecstasy, but I eased back just in time.

"Joe," she scolded breathlessly.

I grinned mischievously and brought my tongue further south than before, circling her bottom hole and penetrating it. Not to let her clit suffer neglect too long, I coated fingers with her natural lubricant and began to rub it.

She had been resistant to anal pleasure, but over time, after several jousts of my tongue at that spot, she started giving into it. "Naughty Boy," she'd say, but it would sound more and more like a moan. It didn't hurt that I tended to fill all her orifices, including a good finger fucking of her ass, when she edged towards and plummeted into orgasms. Maybe a bit of behavioral modification that, but she learned it added just that much more intensity to it.

My tongue kept on stabbing her crinkled hole while my thumb took over the clit rubbing and my finger went spelunking into her deep wet cave searching and finding the textured surface of her g-spot and began its massage. I gradually amped up the speed and the pressure, rolling her clit between rubbings until I watched her flush and shake, her lips whistling in their tense circle as they let out deeper breaths until she went rigid, eyes wide, body shivering, and I felt the muscles of the two orifices I filled spasm around my fingers and tongue. Removing my tongue, I used it to lap up the sweet flow of orgasmic liquid she let loose, swallowing as it filled my mouth.

"So good," she purred, pulling me up with hands at my underarms. She tasted herself in my mouth and on my cheeks as I helped slide us onto the center of the bed, the rose pedals somehow aiding the effort.

"Joe," she murmured as I lay over her, her hand grasping my completely revived cock and blindly leading the glans to her wide open pussy.

"Yes, sweetheart," I said, adding a kiss as I leaned on my elbows, my hands turned in to caress both breasts and their rigid nipples.

"Ooh," she groaned when my glans entered her pussy, still reverberating quietly from her orgasm. "I brought some lubricant."

"Why...Oh," I said, realizing her intent. "You sure?"

"Unh-hunh. I...even...I used an enema."

"Naughty girl," I kissed her, our moans muted by each other's mouths as I sank all the way in.

"It's 'cause...you're a...naughty...boy," she muttered as I began slow lengthy strokes. "Oh god you feel so good. Such a naughty...boy...wanting to...fuck...my dirty hole."

"Not so dirty," I reminded her. She chuckled within her moan.

"Fuck me good, Joe. Squeeze my titties. Make me cum. You'll...get your reward."

"This is my reward, my love. Loving you. Feeling you love me. It's everything I want and everything I need."

"Me too, Joe. I love you Joe. Go harder Joe. Fuck me harder. Yes. Suck my nipples. Bite them. Oh fuck. So fucking good. Harder Joe. Harder. Fuck me. Fuck...me!"

I pounded into her climax as she writhed in ecstasy beneath me. It always elongated them when I did, and this one, which came quicker than I expected, seemed bigger and lasted longer than any I had ever experienced with her.

I slowed as her orgasm calmed. "In the bedside table drawer," she finally said, her breath not quite caught so I barely heard her. But I did hear and I stretched out to the drawer, keeping my cock inside her. I felt a tube of lubricant and something else. I pulled both out.

"A vibrator?" I chuckled. "Who's naughty now?"

"Meet Little Joe," she said. I don't know if it was remnants of her orgasm, but it seemed her blush got deeper. "All that porno we watched, all that double penetration. It looked...interesting."

"It's cute," I said of the narrow pink machine. "No dildo?"

She shook her head. "Too embarrassed. It was hard enough buying the vibrator."

I pulled my cock from her slippery sheathe and added KY to the coating of female lubrication. "If you like this, we'll go buy one."

"Okay," she smiled. 

I chuckled. "You'd feel more comfortable if we bought a dildo together?"

"You're my naughty boy," she shrugged. "Slick up my poop chute, baby." She took over slicking my cock with her expert hands.

Adding fingers opened up the small crinkled hole. Her moans during my work made me hopeful. But it wasn't just my anal fucking fingers that brought them. We had shifted our bodies so that I could lap at her hot petals and the rigid stamen like pin above them.

She looked distended enough for my glans. My extremes in size luckily had to do with length rather than width at least on this occasion. Actually in all occasions for all openings my cock could penetrate since she sported a narrow passage for her pussy and I didn't expand her throat too much when she let me in there.

Climbing between her thighs, I brought them back against her torso and added a pillow under her ass to line her up perfectly. We could have done it doggy style, but I needed to watch her expressions. I felt less concern when she smiled calmly at me and when she took hold of my cock to lead it to her last virginal hole. "I dreamed of this," she explained. "It was like visualizing it. It made me hot. It made me ready. Press in."

I did and through the tight sphincter.

"Fuck," she growled.

"Too much?" I asked her.

"Almost," she replied with a grunt. "Go slow. Oh fuck."

I felt her sphincter tremble around my shaft. But it never really tensed up completely. I kept a slow descent into her bowels, inching in before withdrawing, each motion becoming longer.

"Shit," she said once half of my shaft had conquered her narrow space.

"Too much?" I asked again.

Shaking her head, she suggested, "More lubricant?"

I nodded and pulled almost out, seeing the edges of my glans stretch her sphincter once more.

"Push in," she growled.

I could tell the stretch bordered on pain and made quick work of squeezing a couple tablespoons of lubricant onto the top half of my shaft and her expanded asshole before pushing in. "Keep pushing," she muttered. "Keep going. Don't stop. Fuck. It's like a fucking brick inside me. Keep going."

"I'm all the way in," I told her. She opened her eyes wide. We shared a chuckle, hers ruffled by the intensity of the moment. I did press a little deeper when I leaned in and kissed her. "Mmm," she moaned into my mouth. When I threatened to separate lips from hers she pulled my head against her. Our tongues danced together as her nose brought her deep breaths in and out.

"Okay. Fuck my ass," she finally said. "Ooh," she moaned during the long slow withdrawal. "Oh," she groaned when I reversed course just as slowly. "Fuck," she growled when I reached bottom. "You're hitting something. Go a little faster. Yes," she added when I again reached the end. I felt the rub too. I decided to stay deep with only a couple inches of retreat before powering into her. "Yes," she moaned at each impact.

When I saw her hands take hold of her nipples and pull them from her body, I decided she liked being anally fucked. I could add to that and grabbed the pink vibrator, turning it on low after coating it with KY. "Yes," she gasped when the buzzing device slid against her clit. "Harder," she growled.

I lengthened and sped up my thrusts, bouncing against that place of resistance that seemed to thrill her. "Harder," she demanded, twisting her nipples as she pulled on them. "Harder," she gasped.

I pounded into her as hard as I ever pounded into her pussy, squeezing KY on my shaft when it emerged just in case. Even slickened, her passage kept a tight hold. And as her face began to tighten and blush signaling approaching climax, I turned on her vibrator to highest vibration. I felt her own natural vibrations surrounding my shaft at her sphincter. She undulated beneath me in a chaotic pattern that encouraged even more friction for my thrusts. 

It ended suddenly as I rammed her one last time, her whole body, both inside and out, shivering in ecstasy. Her pussy actually became a fountain of girl cum. "Fuck!" she yelled, the word tight and elongated. I erupted inside her, her exquisite climax triggering mine.

Then she became inert except for her vibrating sphincter. I lifted the vibrator from her clit and gazed at the beauty of her total bliss. Calm had replaced the tightened face, and a smile quietly curved her lips even though she had lost consciousness. I kissed those gentle, bee stung lips with softness that carried an intensity of love somehow within it.

"Mmm," she purred, awakening, her arms slowly lifting to embrace me and continue the kiss keeping it soft and gentle and loving.

"So you like getting fucked in the ass?" I asked her, my face inches from hers as we gazed into each other's eyes.

"It seems so, Naughty Boy. Are you pleased?"

"Pleasing you pleases me," I told her.

"Same here," she responded, adding another lengthy kiss as punctuation. It broke when my flaccid penis slipped out of her asshole with quite a lot of semen following. "Ooh," she purred.

"Bath?' I offered.

"Mmm," she nodded. I lifted off her and onto my feet. She had a harder time getting to hers.

She squeaked when I cradled her in my arms, only her torpid condition keeping it quiet.

Kissing her grin before negotiating our way into the hallway, her hand the only free one to open the door, I asked her, "You sore?"

"Some. But it was worth it. And Joe?"

"Unh-hunh?"

"When it happens again, after a day or two of recovery, let's find us a nice fat dildo to bring me the full affect."

I chuckled. "Of course, my love. Anything you desire."

"I desire you, my naughty boy. Now put me down." We had reached the bathroom.

As I measured the heat of the water pouring from the silver faucet, she looked for and found bath oil and bath salts and added them to the slowly filling tub. We sat on the commode, her in my lap, my hand gently dancing over her lovely tits and nipples distractedly.

"Are you happy?" I asked her.

"Of course, silly boy," she answered kissing my cheek. "Never happier."

"Even though I've corrupted you with my dirty schemes?"

She giggled. "I knew you were my naughty boy, but didn't quite imagine how naughty. I also figured you for a poet and waiter lacking in ambition, which I didn't care about. But when you revealed your ambition it made sense. I knew you made enough tips to get a better apartment, a safer one. If I recall, you weren't even paying rent then, some kind of rent strike. I just never knew you were saving up to go to NYU film school and to buy film until you explained the college application to me. You had your plan and sacrificed to make it happen."




My Funny Valentine Ch. 04



"You cared enough for my ambitions to get my first book of poetry published," I reminded her. "And after you edited books all day, you spent evenings editing them to steel hard perfection."

"It was fun," she shrugged. "Especially since they were the naughty ones," she giggled.

"What else would be in a book called 'Naughty Boy'?" We shared a laugh.

"I can't wait to work on 'Even Naughtier'," she added within her chuckling.

"But the whole porn thing?" I reminded her.

"What happened when you told me about it?" she asked.

"I believe you came. I was fucking you at the time if I recall."

"And not even all that hard," she giggled. "It excited me because it excited you. Your planning and your ambitiousness, they thrilled me. Your confidence thrilled me."

"And the subject of that confidence?"

"I told you I like my boy naughty."

Shutting off the water, we climbed into the bath taking the same positions as we'd done a year before with her in my lap. I began the same massage/cleaning of her incredible body. After all, we were celebrating its anniversary even if the fuck preceded the bath and the tub was located in a bathroom instead of a kitchen.

Our conversation continued as if uninterrupted.

"And me choosing you as my first model for experimenting with light and movement?" I asked. "You didn't seem shy; just hesitant."

"I like being nude for you," she giggled. "I like to see your excitement in all ways," she caressed my rising penis as illustration. "But I just thought...you were choosing badly."

"How so?"

"You should have chosen someone prettier, someone more photogenic."

"It wasn't because you'd be turning on students, both male and female since half the female coeds are lesbian?"

"I really didn't think I would elicit such responses. Did I?"

"I swear I heard panting and smelled juicy pussies."

"Bullshit."

"Jill, you have a body that only dreams could create, and I mean the wet kind."

"For you maybe."

"For me definitely. And yes your face takes getting used to. It's why I lingered on it. Film lately with all its fast cuts doesn't give a watcher much of a chance to reveal the nuances, the cuteness and the beauty existing amidst the odd, the different and the exotic. Even I took a few minutes to see past that uniqueness to the cute and beautiful truth of your face. Now it's all I see. My classmates ended up seeing it as well. They found the experience...fascinating."

"Is that why you use me only as a body double, and use Monica as the star?"

"Yes. Jealous?"

"You know I'm not. You brought your cute friend Dave to distract her. It's lucky she can act and looks so good on screen."

"I am. I knew acting students wouldn't want porn on their résumés. Not if they're going to be big media stars. And porn stars would have been too expensive let alone jaded."

"Not to mention you two are comfortable or maybe enthusiastic would be a better word fucking each other."

"You're incredible," I said in awe of her permission to fuck her best friend.

"Maybe it keeps you from hiding any infidelity."

"I'd never cheat on you."

"I don't think you would," she said.

"What about the tag team titties?' I asked, referring to the name Jill gave the two chesty nurses, the mulatto one sporting double Ds while the Puerto Rican featured a more normal but more jutting and resilient C sized set. The darker woman had a thicker body appropriate to her massive tits, more Amazonian than chubby, with a beautiful face, while the Latina had sharp, almost harsh features though still very pretty, and a sleek body with a firm oval ass that could make any man hard.

Jill giggled. "They're just a couple of horny nurses having the times of their lives. They'd never settle for you, let alone your friend Dr. Bob."

"What about you?" I asked.

"What about me?"

"I'm getting variety and you're not."

"You give me plenty of variety, Naughty Boy. You always give me what I want. Today was a prime example. I'm not interested in any other cock. Yours is perfect. Besides," she purred as I twisted her nipples ostensibly cleaning them to a pristine shine as she rubbed her pussy, damp from more than bathwater and slipperier because of it, across the top of my erection, her mouth near my ear as she leaned her head back on my shoulder, "you're the only man I'm comfortable with. You'll always be that." She playfully nipped my earlobe with lips covered teeth. "I love you," she murmured.

"I love you, too," I responded.

Lifting her magnificent ass out of the bath water, she leaned forward, her hand creating a pillow for her face against the porcelain edge of the tub, her other hand stroking her clit. "Then fuck me," she said.

Getting on my knees brought me to perfect height behind her. Luckily the bath sported a rubber pad at the bottom. My hand rubbed my cock to rub away water and brought the head to her heated slit, pushing in steadily until fully embedded.

"Yes," she shouted. "Fuck me you fucker!"

One hand on her luscious butt holding her or occasionally spanking her, the other reached down to pull and twist her nipples just how she loved it as I stroked into her in all sorts of rhythms and angles, water sloshing out the sides, neither of us caring. 

When she came she eased off her clit rubbing, bracing both hands on the tub edge. I took over the rubbing when she calmed while my other hand kept pulling and twisting her nipples. After she brought forth another screaming orgasm, shouting my name along with Fuck and God, I brought both hands to her hips, holding her tightly as I became selfish for my needs. Many strokes later, hard and relentless, I reached my zenith in a profound rush of pleasure, undulating as I pressed deep and throbbed out semen crashing against her cervix like stormy ocean waves. Best of all she moaned with a last quieter orgasm that still caused her interior to milk me dry, the rolling massage adding even more pleasure to the ecstatic moment.

She sank with me back into the bath water, giggling. "At least we don't need to make another bath," she said.

We let the liquid pleasure we had just generated mix with the bathwater as my cock finally dwindled and slipped out of her pussy. I resumed my cleaning massage where I left off. Later, like the day a year before, we changed positions to let her scrub/massage me, and my reflexology finishing my massage of her caused her to relax completely, almost making her sleep.

Naked under towels, we left the bathroom finding Dave and Monica just exiting the guest room we'd been using.

"What's up?" I asked them.

"Happy Valentine's Day," they replied, grinning mischievously and arm in arm headed to the stairs.

Jill and I looked at each other and shrugged. Not until we entered the room did we realize the generosity of our friends. On a table at just the right height for us to sit on the side of the bed and enjoy the meal lay a dozen oysters in a bed of ice, two lobsters with all the instruments to open and eat the meat, saffron rice and asparagus.

We laughed. 

We gorged ourselves, often bringing the amazing food to the other's mouth. 

Then, with greasy fingers and faces, we finished the evening making love slowly and lovingly until the intensity of pleasure we shared brought forth the kind of exhaustion that enables the deepest and most profound rest for both body and mind, cuddled together of course in a continuation of two separate beings becoming one mesh of flesh signifying love.

...to be continued...



My Funny Valentine Ch. 05



Chapter Five

Valentine's Day Wedding

Three years later we got married on a day and a date that we would always remember. It almost didn't happen.

"You have to take the job," Jill insisted 7 months earlier as she rode my cock on the big comfortable bed in our Gramercy area apartment we decided on as a compromise for her Upper Eastside job and my Bowery one. She actually paid more of the rent, insisting it only fair since she made more than twice the money I did. Even that was a compromise because negotiations started with her paying it all which we both knew would have been burdensome, not to mention unfair, even with her six figure editor pay.

She had taken me to bed after I showed her the letter from the very successful director/producer of both soft core and extreme hard core films, offering a role in his productions as an assistant director. It meant relocating to LA. She had taken me to bed to relieve the guilt and worry the letter brought me, with the joy of accepting creating a stepping stone to directing my own commercially viable projects contrasting with a need to move away. She knew how to distract me.

"But I can't leave you," I told her, stopping the erotic bouncing of her tits with both hands and squeezing them. "And Manhattan is the center of publishing."

"You have to take it. It's a chance of a lifetime," she huffed, riding me harder.

"There's got to be a way to make this work," I said, gaining confidence as the friction around my cock gained excitation, whispering at completion, though I knew it would wait. It would wait for me to roll her over and become the fucker and her the fuckee. Her riding me cowgirl had the advantage of delaying my orgasm even as it thrilled both of us as much as any position, especially visually for me watching her titties bounce. "There's got to be a way."

Confidence brought out the pounder in me. I thrust up against her downward thrusts with greater power until I pulled her hard against me, my glans mashed just hard enough against her cervix to set her off as it often did with a surprisingly quick if low level orgasm, and rolled us over still firmly connected and recommenced the fucking as hard or harder than her riding had been. I added harder squeezes of her nipples, and after a passionate kiss, some chewing on them as well. No more conversational words occurred, only words of passion from Jill's bee stung lips, mostly "fuck." 

"Oh God Joe," she growled as a mighty orgasm overcame her, her body pressing upwards as I continued pounding into it. She writhed against me until all movement ceased and I felt the wild rippling surround my cock and the hot stream of fluid cover my balls.

I felt these things because I too had stopped my thrusting, pressing deeper than ever inside her and against her roiling cervix which I hosed down and through with ecstatic ejaculations, sending seed eager to mate with an egg that proved non-existent.

The next day I took the chance of negotiating with the porn director via phone call. He must have really been impressed by my amateur work, artistic if cheaply made yet erotically stimulating and, if I take the word of classmates and teacher and Dr Bob and of course my lovely Jill, beautiful, because he listened to my pleas.

"I need her with me," I told him. "Not only is she the love of my life, but she's my muse."

"It's a cold world no matter the heat of the imagery," he countered. "Love can become a liability or even more likely completely vanquished."

"I can imagine," I told him, thinking of the often cruel if well crafted double and triple penetrations he subjected his female porn stars to. Love never entered into his schemes. Even the softcore had more to do with lust and avarice than anything approaching love. "But it's been well tested," I continued. "That's me fucking that gorgeous Jewish lady who happened to be Jill's roommate at the time and my ex, and not only did Jill watch it, she filmed it."

"She filmed it?" he responded, obviously impressed despite his typical low key speech patterns. 

I caught it. "She can be an amazing cameraman or person for the second unit." After a pause I added, "And she's an editor."

"I've got a great editor," he said.

"Not film editing. She edits books, both novels and nonfiction. She's brilliant at it, one of the top editors at her publisher despite her young age. She edited the book of poetry I sent to you and she also edits my film scripts."

He chuckled. "Ah, at last the grist."

"Don't take this wrong, but your scripts could use her skills."

"Even I cringe after the fact," he admitted. "Actually I thought I'd use you for writing as well. It was to be a reward for good work which I figured I'd see from you. Just like anything in our business, instant gratification and all that, I guess rewards are never delayed."

I chuckled with him. "We work as a team," I said.

"And without her you don't work at all?" he asked.

I had nothing to say to that. It brought my back against the wall. Like Jill had said, it was a chance of a lifetime.

Thankfully he agreed. "Anyone else?" he offered jokingly.

"Need a sound man?"

"You might," he chuckled.

It turned out Dave had the same dilemma as me. How he tempered the party girl Monica enough for them to sustain a relationship surprised me. Except I knew it was more like him going with the flow, partying as hard as her, including sharing her with men, mostly Bob, as she shared him with women, mostly Bob's nurses. She got the most out of it though, discovering her bisexual tendencies at that shoot at her parents' estate. Neither Dave nor Bob had the least interest in fucking each other.

So in the end, his desire to remain with his love kept him in Manhattan. That both of them had moved into better positions in their professions, she finally getting an editing position after a couple frustrating years manning the front desk as receptionist, and he about to take over the jeweler/watch repair business from the ancient master for which he had been apprenticed, definitely added to his decision to stay.

Jill and I had to delay our move west for awhile. In a sense the porn director tested both of us during that time. He sent Jill screenplays to edit and had me work Manhattan as location background. And Long Island as well, since he liked Monica's parents' estate he'd seen in my little film.

It would have been nice to avoid another New York winter, but in the end it worked out great. Dave became my best man and Monica Jill's maid of honor. Her family could attend easily. Most, including her aunts and uncles and cousins, despite their multitude of ethnicities, resided in either New York or in a relatively close eastern city, and there were many of them. She herself had two brothers and a sister from her parent's original marriage, and half siblings and siblings from their second marriages.

My family actually had several from my father's side, he having been raised in Brooklyn, residing close by. In fact his oldest brother, in the entertainment business as the head contract lawyer of the second largest talent agency in America, had been of great assistance in not only letting me bounce ideas off him but in introducing me to powerful men in the film business, most productively the director who moonlighted as the featured instructor in film at NYU, essentially letting me pass hurdles to get enrolled there. This assistance happened despite Uncle Howard's absolute objection to my career choice. What a mensche.

"I do," I said most happily on Valentine's Day despite my unmanly tears looking into those incredible dark Asian eyes just as moist as mine. Her vintage bridal gown looked incredible on her, fitted to a t and flaunting her perfect abundance. But at that moment all I saw were her eyes, accepting, loving, as ecstatic as mine. Not an ounce of reluctance showed through, nor shyness. 

That shyness, nearly crippling, I hardly ever saw by then, though people I met with her and who she had met without me earlier had remarked at her transformation into confident woman when in my presence. I guess she still needed me. I had no problem with that because I needed her too.

We finished our vows in the huge Manhattan pier we rented and celebrated afterwards when it became the reception hall. Hundreds of guests barely filled the place, but it was an impressive crowd for us two usual recluses.

"You weren't nervous at all," I said into her ear as we sat awaiting the usual events, including being coruscated and flambéed by my best and all too witty friend. We sat at the head of a large round table like king and queen surrounded by a court of relatives and friends.

"I get to marry you, silly boy. It's something I've been looking forward to for some time. Besides, I've been stared at before by a lot more people."

"You mean the films?"

"No silly. I used to be a gymnastic star, remember? A lot more people watched me hit my marks. Nerves you learned to work into greater power, into adrenaline."

"So you are nervous," I smiled, giving her a soft kiss, much shorter and less intense but just as loving as the one we displayed at end of the ceremony in front of the throng who cheered and whistled as if their team had one a championship. I had certainly won my champion and she seemed to feel the same about me.

"Of course," she smiled, beaming. "You'll just have to soothe me with your brilliant hands. The suite's bathtub is huge by the way."

It may not have been the Plaza, but the hotel containing our suite ranked as second tier fancy, a gift from my lawyer uncle. I hadn't seen it because we played to the superstition of not seeing each other the night before the wedding. I didn't think we needed to worry about anything threatening our marriage, especially silly superstitions, but our mothers, who ended up becoming good friends, insisted. I ended up liking the idea as it intensified anticipation of seeing my lovely bride appear resplendent and sexy in her gown. 

When I finally saw her beginning her march down the aisle, she took my breath away. Completely. The tears began then and only got worse. Speaking the vows I wrote for her had been the hardest thing I ever did getting past my emotion tightened throat, but I managed to get them out sans mistake.

She on the other hand, despite her tear wetted cheeks, spoke hers clearly and resonantly with her slightly high and innately sexy voice, the hint of a rasp in it always a pleasure to hear. Channeling nerves and intense emotions into adrenaline she had just explained to me indirectly.

Somehow we got through my friend's eviscerating speech and the moving speeches of both of our fathers and the messy cake eating to get to that first dance. 

Of course I chose "My Funny Valentine" for the song. 

Enwrapping her in my arms as we shifted to the slow rhythm, I may have been able to rest my chin on her head, it may have looked peculiar, even ridiculous, but holding her and moving with her, our bodies as close as possible without getting naked and me actually inside her, nothing else existed but her. The mix of flowery perfume and her natural musk I smelled smelled like love. That and her breasts pressed against my diaphragm and her pelvis and thighs and the hot place at the center pressed against my thigh brought forth my erection which she felt against her tummy. She subtly rubbed it looking up at me with mischief and desire in her eyes. I wanted so much to ravish her there and then in front of all of our relatives and friends. Maybe they'd cheer even more enthusiastically than they cheered our kiss. Somehow I got through it.

We had decided on buffet to not add eating to the many post wedding ceremonies. After dancing with Monica first (we knew what condition I'd be in after our first dance and though Monica felt sexy in my arms I could let the condition dwindle), I danced with my mom and Jill's mom before one more dance with my love and finally gathering food and eating.

"I see what Monica sees in Dave," Jill unsuccessfully teased me. "He dances divine."

I returned with equal lack of success, "I think your mom's a hotty." She was sultry as only an olive skinned Mediterranean woman could be, but hadn't been exercising her body and dieting like both her daughter and me had been doing (and continue to do), so her middle had lost much of the curve between hefty breasts and butt. I had wondered why Jill thought she'd remain flat enough to compete in gymnastics and dance ballet, and she explained that they'd hoped she had enough of her Scots/Japanese father's genes, the females of his family being slim and small breasted.

"Despite the disappointment, I'm glad you got your mother's genes that way," I told her. "Ecstatic actually."

"You would, my naughty boy," she pouted without conviction.

We made quick work of our meals, catered by a caterer who deserved its reputation for deliciousness. But I had a much more delicious dish pressed against my side, her fingers squeezing and rubbing my growing lump as I rubbed her clit directly. Lucky her dress wasn't crepe, but a flowing satin that hid its pushed up state beneath the white table cloth. I easily slid past her bikini cut panties, approaching under the waistband.

Though she continued her manipulations of my manhood most of the time, the minx, when we saw guests approach to give us congratulations, I removed my secret pussy stirrer, licking fingers as if soiled by the finger foods making Jill blush and coo. Monica and Dave surrounding us at the end, old friend beside old friend, and they winked at our discreet fondling letting us work each other to near explosion.

"You want me to suck that off before you go to keep it from sticking out like a flag pole?" Monica offered.

"Only if I get to suck off the new bride," Dave countered. "Fair is fair."

"No thanks," my uneasy bride responded. "Though I'm sure you're quite good at it."

"He is," Monica said. "Almost as good as your husband." When Dave looked cutely petulant, she added, "But you get better every day, and you're definitely second best as far as men." When that only softened his look a little, she finished with, "I'll instruct you on his methods, I promise."

"Can't wait," he smiled.

We finally made our exit, me managing to bring my cock to half mast. Tossing the bouquet and the garter, both our friends resisted catching them though with some ambivalence I thought interesting.

Half mast went to full as soon as we entered the stretch limo and the chauffeur lowered the privacy screen. I lowered my pants and briefs releasing my needy shaft while Jill removed her panties and straddled me. I guided it in, Jill lifting the skirt to let me see the way.

"Oh fuck," we both moaned when my glans entered tight hot slick paradise.

"So fucking good," she added as she slowly descended bringing me to full depth. "Umph," she muttered when I struck her cervix. Pulling out her breasts from the slick fabric, I smothered hard nipples in lips and fingers. As she squirmed against me, I wetted fingers in my mouth and rubbed her clit with vigor. It's all it took. I hadn't thought she was that close. 

"I've been on the edge since I saw you in your gorgeous suit standing at the alter staring at me with devouring eyes," she explained with a purr. Even as her interior convulsed around my cock, she began the up and down motion of a fuck.

"I'm also not far from cumming," I muttered, gripping her waist and guiding her to go faster and pressing down hard at the end of her descent. My mouth returned to feasting on her nipples.

"Then this might help," she muttered unsteadily into my nearby ear. "I stopped taking the pill."

"When?" I asked huskily pulling her even harder against me.

"Then you're okay with it?"

"Yes!" I groaned.

"A month ago and I'm ovulating. Cum in me."

"Yes!" I shouted even with my teeth gripping a nipple.

"Send your cum deep past my cervix. Send your naughty swimmers to attack my vulnerable egg. Fill me with your love. Fill my womb with our baby."

I bit and tugged, pulling her tit out from her torso, and it sent her into bliss just as I exploded blissfully into her milking interior that coaxed out my seed to shoot past the cervix, hundreds of microscopic tadpoles in search of their own penetration. Millions before never had a chance. One finally accomplished what the others couldn't, if not then, then sometime that Valentine's Day. We certainly gave them lots of chances.

I chuckled as we embraced, our bodies bathed in endorphins, the last of our orgasmic throbs ending.

"What?" she asked me.

"It's Valentine's day," I said. "Of course you're ovulating."

She chuckled too.

...to be continued...



My Funny Valentine Ch. 06



Chapter Six

Three Valentine's Days Later

Vanessa hung from her mother's nipple, suckling, sucking milk from an amazingly larger tit than I had first tasted, strapped into a papoose so Jill could man her camera. She filmed me being inundated by pussy from two gorgeous porn stars, the youthful blonde on my covered cock and the veteran brunette on my mouth while two men, one built like me, both in body and cock, long and narrow, perfect sized to enter anal passages without too much pain, which he currently demonstrated sharing the blonde, the other massively muscular with an immense cock again matching his body also occupying an asshole fortunately famous for such intrusion so the veteran brunette could handle it.

We were christening our new home appropriate to our profession. We had actually christened it more intimately much earlier that morning, my wife and I, one on one, with a good morning fuck and a loving bath and another bout more about making love followed by a shower.

The wet sounds of fucking and sucking, the murmurs of pleasure muffled by mouths, the two women sealing lips for most of the orgy except to catch breath and moan pleasure, only the two anal fuckers had their mouth free to sound out their enjoyment, mostly grunts with an occasional "fuck," I had covered with a boom mic. I liked my sound natural in my films, cringing at the horrible dubbing usually shoved onto the soundtrack without regard to synching with anyone on screen. 

Like Dave before, the boom operator sported an erection. Before the brunette had blinded me with her pussy, I had noticed his interest lay more in my wife than the porn babes.

We finished with the cum or money shot. I often avoided them, preferring watching cum drip from shiny wide open pussies or assholes. We had those too, but the man with the monster dick pulled out and rubbed off his climax, coating the brunette's lower back with cream.

The women both trembled and vocalized convincingly. It helped that they actually came. I gave the brunette, the hardest to make cum, the cue for the rest of us, shouting out "I'm cumming!" when she did. My cock and my clit stroking fingers finished off the blonde one last time, her orgasms had been nearly constant, while I let go the long resistance to release semen as did the skinny guy behind the blonde. 

Jill with her usual élan zoomed into the blonde's genitals when the porn star collapsed onto her back revealing cum dripping out of both pussy and anus, the latter obscenely expanded.

"Cut," I said lounging naked on my side. "That's a wrap."

"Thank god," said Jill, carefully setting down her hand held camera.

We chuckled and winked at each other remembering earlier times.

"You guys can go," I said, moments later, handing out cash. They would get checks mailed to them, but relished under the table payments, especially when cash expanded their pay.

"Aren't you going to shoot covering shots?" asked the boom operator, his eyes still mostly keyed onto Jill and her naked breast. Trusting my operators and the rest of my staff, I rarely needed fillers to add to the shooting of the fuck. He was new.

I chuckled. "You want to watch some more?"

He actually blushed.

"Joe trusts us to get what he needs," Jill explained. "Now shoo you guys. This is our anniversary."

We got congratulations from all but the boom guy. I even received kisses from the porn star women as did Jill. When the big guy noticed Jill back away from his approach, he was gentleman enough to not pursue. He did joke, "You should get rid of the asshole. I got more what it takes."

"I noticed," Jill replied. They shared a laugh and a nod. He was actually a pretty cool guy, not exactly brilliant, but not arrogant either like many of his kind, especially those with his endowments. Arrogance got you fired from my set.

The boom guy seemed to linger longer. "He wants you," I whispered into Jill's ear as she sat on my lap. "He must like big, gorgeous tits." The other women were much less endowed. I preferred natural breasts. The brunette's were almost floppy. Her ass was her featured part. It was perfect. The blonde's tits were youthful, buoyant, but I'd be surprised if they filled a C cup. Two babies had brought Jill into the double D range.

"He's kind of cute," she surprised me in saying but I went with it.

"I fuck other women, obviously. It's only fair if you get a chance to fuck other guys, especially cute ones."

She paused as if considering it. I even saw her catch the guy's eye. Shifting back and pulling my head forward, she gazed into my eyes. "You're all the cute I need, Joe. You're the only man I want inside me. If I want different, I got a boatload of dildos and butt plugs to play with."

We kissed several times, our eyes opening and hooked together whenever lips separated. Finally the kiss lingered and featured tongue play. She rocked her perfect ass on my rising cock.

"You want me to fire him?" I asked when it ended. We noticed he'd finally left.

"Maybe. He kept dipping the boom almost in camera view. We may even have caught it. But I want something else much much more." She rose from my lap and got rid of the papoose, gently placing a sleepy Nessy in her pen.

"Oh, and what might that be?" I asked her sexy backside, rising from my seat and pressing against it.

"You," she said, nudging my penis and the rest of me backwards, giving her space to strip, which she did with needy speed.

I stripped off the shirt and pants I had just put on. Going commando set my cock immediately springing free. She grabbed it and pulled it and me to the abused bed. Sitting, she brought it into her mouth, pulling my butt closer as her lips and tongue massaged my knob. Seconds later she pulled me into her throat.

"Fuck, Jill, you're the best cocksucker and deep throater that ever lived."

Pulling it out, she rasped with a wry grin, "And you would know," before sending me back deep. Her eyes laughed and I laughed with them and shrugged before my face tensed and I moaned, "Fuck."

I let her pleasure me for a minute or so before removing my saliva soaked and hard as rock cock from her mouth and lifting her into the middle of the bed to give back.

"You don't have to," she told me, her legs spread wide, watching my head head between them. "Just fuck me."

"I'm being selfish," I told her before licking her delicious pussy.

I wanted to tease her to the greatest heights, but I had to be careful. I could tell she was on a high wire ready to plummet into bliss. So many things had intensified her libido: our anniversary; our continued love for each other; watching me fuck (a major trigger for her horniness to the point that she abandoned her camera from time to time to take over fucking me, whipping off her clothes and my condom to do so with the other cameras recording it); and even baby Nessy suckling on her nipple added to it. Somehow I managed to have her climb the walls of desire more than I'd ever seen without giving her release.

"Fuck me, goddamnit!" she shouted not quite loud enough to awake the baby.

I rose up and guided my missile home. The silo exploded immediately as my glans slid along its top edge, my finger pressing her clit against the shaft and my angle rubbed my glans against her g-spot. I mean she literally exploded, shooting her essence out, coating the rest of my shaft not quite inside and my balls.

Eyes wide, body taut, her climax shook her to the core. "Motherfucker," she growled tremulously. I pressed deeper, discovering her inner walls had become a chaos of shivering motion that seemed to encourage the plunging. Finally, with my glans giving a gentle bounce against her cervix creating one last shiver, she calmed and collapsed.

"Sweetheart?" I murmured.

"Fuck me, Joe," she muttered barely loud enough to hear. "Fuck me slow. Long and slow. I want all of you sliding in and out of me."

Truth be told, with two babies opening her vagina wider than any cock had opened a space that had once held me firmly whenever I occupied it, much less friction resulted. She made up for it with brilliant Kegel muscle action. I made up for it by giving her many angles for my thrusts. She didn't have energy for the Kegel action this time. I didn't mind in the slightest. I held her eyes and stroked her body, loving all of her, the hands sweeping to her butt, lingering there for squeezes, before sweeping to her breasts and playing with their fullness and their crowning areolas and nipples. I brought my lips to them as well, but never stopped my gaze at her lovely, absolutely unique, completely adorable blushing face.

She too, much more languorously as if weak from pleasure, which, since I'd never seen her climax so powerfully, seemed likely, circumnavigated my body with her hands wherever she could reach. She lingered on my balls and the nearby shaft and even my nipples which she rarely played with. It never did much for me, but I found it profoundly pleasurable this time for some reason. 

We both ended up exploring each other's faces like two blind people memorizing what can't be seen. Eventually, inevitably, we suckled each other's digits. I could feel it sympathetically in my cock. It must have excited her too. 

Removing my fingers, she murmured, "Kiss me Joe." It started soft and gentle and warm like we kissed after cumming, but intensified. She broke it a moment. "Fuck me Joe. Fuck me hard," she said before pulling me back to her mouth.

Mouths locked together with tongues playing within them. I amplified my thrusts while my retreats eased out. Her exercised muscles began to play around me, exciting me as they always did. I waited for her to speed things up when she wanted it. Her hips began their undulations, the signal I waited for, and I matched her ever increasing speed. Her hand on my butt pressed harder to tell me she wanted it harder. A hand of hers and a hand of mine each grabbed a nipple, twisting it and pulling at it. Fingers shared the clit rubbing, hers and mine pressing on each side giving it a complex rub.

Soon our bodies slapped against each other in chaotic abandon, lost in the build toward climax. Her fingers gave way for mine alone to caress her clit, moving to the gentle caress of my balls. They needed little encouragement to release the sperm that filled them.

Our mouths had to separate to gain breath which we gasped for. "I'm going to cum," I told her, pummeling into her that much more.

"Oh Joe," she growled. "Just...Oh...Yes!" she yelled as I thrust deeper than ever, ready to withdrawal but not needing it. Her hands held me tight at my ass, squeezing, her fingernails threatening to wound.

"Fuck," I yelled a second later as I erupted, the first shot passing though my urethra like a cannonball before slamming against and through her quaking cervix.

"Waah," Nessy yelled.

We laughed within our convulsive shakes.

"Our little monster speaks," said Jill. We'd dubbed Vanessa Nessy for the monster of Loch Ness. She may have been adorable, but sometimes she looked at us with this sort of mischievous smirk on her lips and even her eyes as if she had some diabolical plan. Of course we were projecting. Little did we know. She ended up having a similar expression, full of mischievousness if not so much of the diabolic sort, as a beautiful heartbreaker of a teenager. But as a baby she really was sweet and actually much less demanding than her two year old brother Pan had been at her age.

I know, Pan and Van. It hadn't really been conscious that coincidence. Of course a girl would never be called Van. Vanny maybe. So its good we called her Nessy for whatever reason it might have been.

We got up. I got dressed while Jill quieted the baby. I took her so Jill could dress. We headed upstairs.

Time to explain our new home. 

Upstairs. Downstairs. Two different homes.

We lived upstairs. We worked downstairs. When work consisted of pornography, we sealed it off. It contained our offices as well, so locking the door wasn't necessary when not shooting film or screening it. The door and walls had padding as well to keep the noise out from upstairs.

It hadn't always been that way. In fact the house wasn't really new to us. We'd been living in it for three years. 

It had been featured in many of my mentor's films. He owned it as a write off since he used it for business. Often visiting porn stars stayed there. He could have. The place was gorgeous, sitting on the edge of a hill that looked down on the ocean on the western edge of Malibu. As soon as we came there after our wedding, he providing it as our honeymoon retreat, we fell in love with it.

"It's too far from the heart of things," he explained to us when we asked why he didn't live there. "I like living in Hollywood." He did own a fantastic house hanging off the edge of a Hollywood Hill. "If you want I could rent it to you for a nominal fee. You may have guests of mine from time to time and we'll be using it often enough for shoots."

We immediately agreed, especially when the rent turned out to be ridiculously low. We could even afford a small apartment in Westwood when we needed to be in town, avoiding LA's insane traffic.

No, that Valentine's Day we weren't celebrating moving in. We celebrated owning.

I had recently become owner of a company albeit in partnership with my mentor. My first film as producer/director became the highest grossing video of the last year gaining us extravagant, ridiculous profits of which 75% were my cut. My surprisingly generous mentor accepted 25% even with his immense aid in getting it manufactured and distributed. I actually earned 60% as producer and gave myself as director a 15% cut. Even though, at least for a time, I would be directing my features exclusively, the cut was an extension of my mentor's concept of giving any director he hired, including himself as well as me on the two films I directed with his company, a slice to encourage the best work possible from them.

He paid well, and both Jill and I got the benefits of many hats. Along with acting in his films usually as a villain, I was recompensed for writing scripts and especially for my assistant directing in charge of secondary shoots often in far flung locations, location scouting also a paid role. My wife worked as script editor for all his films including mine as well as other Hollywood films, both dirty and legitimate. She also manned a camera for my shoots, was assistant scout, and used her incredible body as a body double for more than mine or my mentor's movies.

Both films I wrote and directed under my mentor's umbrella did okay. They had the usual nastiness and slickness demanded from him with, at least I hope, a touch more beauty and grace in the sex scenes, a more dream like and artistic, nude study quality that gave them a surrealistic bent. Juxtaposing that with gritty scripts, more realistic in plot and conversation than his usual, with the sort of unexpected and startling moments one might find in a Coen Brothers film, made the sex scenes unexpected and startling in themselves. It may have clearly been one of my mentor's productions, but it had my mark as well.

He was pleased thankfully. It probably helped that the films had legs going beyond initial sales, including the cable company that bought it and screened it several times. Yes they were direct to video, but I always shot in real 35mm film stock until very recently when digital had progressed into unbelievable sharpness. Even now I miss the nuances that analog brings to visuals, the warmth and subtlety and beauty of well lit and shot film.

When he presented us with the opportunity to go out on our own, Jill and I couldn't have been happier or more surprised.

"You could do better without my restrictions," he explained. "Something beautiful even if completely pornographic. You could finally get to film a love story." He actually cringed when he said the last. "Basically you get to do what you have always wanted, and I'll help get it seen by the greatest numbers possible via my distributors." Dropping the contract on the table, he said, "Let your lawyer look it over."

Both Jill and I read it and gasped. "You sure?" I asked him.

A wry grin edged a corner of his lip on his large and imposing and weirdly both handsome and ugly face looking almost demonic sometimes. "Don't worry about me. I'm going to make plenty. Plus I got interests in the distributors. So the money you pay out, some of that gross I don't get as profit, I get in the end anyway."

"Of course," I chuckled. "You're too smart to make dirty movies. You should be a CEO of some giant corporation paying yourself dividends out the yin yang."

"Who says I'm not?" he grinned wider. "And speaking of smart, maybe dirty movies is the best you can do, but what about your much smarter wife?"

"What can I say," Jill responded. "I'm stuck being in love with a naughty boy."

Looking at her looking at me with utter fondness he commented, "You don't' look stuck."

"But I am," she replied. "Happily and hopefully eternally."

So I made a beautiful and artistic porn film about love. Even with an unhappy ending, Orpheus and Eurydice can't end happily (nods to Cocteau in my choice of subject and some of my shots), it still ended up huge. It didn't hurt that I chose the most delicious porn stars of both sexes who could actually act and that the sex was unusually passionate along with being beautiful. And with demon sex for Eurydice and a harem of women for Orpheus, two orgies edited together for an intense climax so to speak, it wasn't such an unhappy ending, especially for the audience.

It made boatloads of money. It even created more sales for my earlier soft core films. It got awards for the film and the acting from the AFVA or Adult Film and Video Association. And it allowed us to own our dream home, the sale completed of course on Valentine's Day.

...to be continued... 



My Funny Valentine Ch. 07



Note: The few comments, mostly cruel (not to mention my worst scores by far) make me think my story doesn't work. I guess I should have said "future porn director" in the first chapter or something so as not to disappoint. Oh well. I do think this is still a romance, focusing on Joe's love for Jill. Those that keep reading, I hope you find some enjoyment in it. Those that hate it, please don't be too insulting. I don't write this shit and post it to be called a fucktard.---maxicue

Chapter Seven

Our Twentieth Valentine's Day

Thirteen Valentine's Days later, a new millennium had begun. A major change had been feared but didn't happen. Same with my home life.

"I'm ready for my cute guy, Mr. Solomon," Jill said to me the morning of our celebratory day. I knew who. We had met him a week before at the AFVA awards where I had been awarded the old man Lifetime Achievement award.

"Really?" I asked while studying my reaction. Less jealousy than I thought I would feel and more relief. Relief for the fairness of it.

I had been fucking other women from the beginning of our relationship. Not since I had stopped acting, or at least my cock had stopped participating in my films or other films seven years before. Monogamy followed, ending at my wife's insistence. That it happened with a gorgeous and perky California blonde with a ripe 18 year old body including c cups and matching booty who often wore a cheerleader outfit during the high school football season and who also happened to be our babysitter could be construed as clichéd.

Two things made it less so. Evie had grown up in our house, her mother our live in maid and nanny. We had brought Wendy into our lives when her career as porn star for the mentor ended badly when her pumped up and drug and steroid addled costar went berserk and raped her anally and damaged her both physically and mentally and Jill and I took her in, kept her with a roof over her and her five year old daughter at about the time when we had purchased the Malibu home. The separation between upstairs and downstairs activities helped to mollify any reactions Wendy had in bringing up memories of the rape even if she knew what was happening beyond the locked, padded door.

Evie knew too even if we kept the knowledge as much as possible from her. She may have known earlier, but she knew for sure when a teary-eyed Wendy snuggling in the arms of the sympathetically teary-eyed Jill despite Wendy having several inches height over her, both naked with covers covering Wendy's d-cup fake tits and her back covering Jill's real double Ds, confessed it all to her one morning. It had not been an unusual occurrence, my wife in bed with our maid. Jill had been comforting her for years and the two had gradually become lovers. Jill even introduced her to a few of her toys, but only representative phalluses would do the job. I never shared that bed.

"Mom, what happened to you to make you so sad?' the precocious 13 year old who had just experienced her menarche a couple weeks before asked her. "And don't get all shy and guilty on me about you and Aunt Jill sharing a bed. I've know for years and it never bothered me. Tell me what happened."

Her mother told her as did Jill when they were asked dozens of questions. "Maybe it's a lesson in what not to do in your life," her mother concluded.

"Aunt Jill?"

"Yes honey?"

"Has that ever occurred with Uncle Joe's actresses?"

"No honey. Never. Uncle Joe would never let that happen."

"How can he be sure?"

"He's very careful, honey. He never hires assholes. He cares too much for his actors. He knows how vulnerable they can be."

Evie nodded with a wry grin. "A porn director with a heart of gold. Who'd have thunk?" There was fondness in her joke Jill noticed. And she also noticed a keen interest in a baring of her nipple when Wendy shifted.

But Jill waited. She waited for Evie to find someone her own age to play with. Boys had come. Girls too. In both senses. They never lasted. Only friends lasted, a couple of gay boys along with another cheerleader, Italian looking, smart and sexy, and a very nerdy looking girl. They had been friends with her for years. She let the boys use her room from time to time, but sex had never been a part of her relationship with her best friends.

Jill waited until Evie had turned 18 late in the summer. We had just sent Diana, the last of our three children before I got snipped, to her first year of boarding school, joining her other siblings in that unfortunate schooling decision, needed we had decided both because they would be educated better than the local public school, and, truth be told, so that they wouldn't be around when Daddy did his naughty job. Only then did Jill approach me with the extraordinary possibility of bedding the lovely and luscious babysitter.

We debated it. Like I said, I had become monogamous, but still noticed gorgeous women with gorgeous bodies and reacted to them naturally, especially Evie. Especially since Evie tended to dress minimally at home: bikini panties and short cropped t-shirts sans bras. 

"But I'm like a father to her," I argued.

"And I'm her aunt," Jill shrugged. "But we still feature in her fantasies."

"You're sure?"

"You don't notice her staring at you, glancing south to see the reaction her body gives you?"

"I try not to," I said sheepishly.

"Well she does the same to me, noticing my nipples just like I notice hers. And..."

"What...?"

"I..."

"What?"

"I kind of got curious and spied on her."

"What do you mean spied?"

"I checked out her computer."

"You didn't."

"Unh-hunh. I had a feeling I'd find proof of her attraction to us. Guess what I found in her recent items file?"

"Videos of me in action?"

"Both of us."

"It's been years..." I started.

"And I never got listed in the credits, I know. She did major research digging into old films to find a scene of me getting fucked by you while sucking some starlet."

"A body double scene?" I asked.

"Unh-hunh. I guess she could tell it was me. It was the most recent item viewed."

"So she's Jilling off, so to speak, to you?"

"To both of us."

"Do you think it's why she hasn't ever found a boyfriend?"

"Or a girlfriend for that matter. I guess we impressed her with our skills."

"How long has she wanted this?" I asked.

"Years, I think," she answered and described with more detail than she had before that moment when her mom and she had confessed our business.

"So your tits made her hot," I chuckled. "I don't blame her." I caressed the already hardened bud on her right breast under her tight t-shirt. My wife too tended to dress provocatively at home. "So why now?"

"I've let her have the time to find someone her age, and she never has. She's no longer needed as babysitter. In a couple weeks she will be off to UCLA. She's still saddened by her mom's death by hepatitis c earlier this summer and definitely needs cheering up. And we love her and want her too. Don't we?" she finished, rubbing my erection through my boxers.

"Yes," I admitted. "How do you want to handle it?"

"A date?"

"Dinner and a movie?" I asked.

"The other way around. I thought dinner might be the coup de grace for our seduction. Something messy like spaghetti I can toss together. I thought a stroll down Venice Beach with some shopping for bathing suits and after there's a mini festival of avant garde erotic films at UCLA."

"Including mine?" I asked and Jill nodded. "Which one?"

"The...nude study?"

"Of you?" I smiled.

"Unh-hunh."

I laughed. "I haven't seen that in ages. If that doesn't make her hot, I know at least it will make me hard."

"I have a feeling it will do both."

And it did. All of it. Jill and Evie shared a changing room at a boutique shop on Venice Beach and shared subtle caresses. Jill made me try on and buy a Speedo which couldn't help reveal a curled up hard on which of course Jill made worse caressing it. I could swear I saw Evie drool, especially when Jill steered her hand for her own quick caress.

And with Evie between us we caressed each other like high school kids in the back row of the small auditorium, even though the back row had several audience members surrounding us. I reached around two bodies to just make contact with Jill's stiff nipple while Jill's hand hidden under a box of popcorn in my lap continued keeping me hard.

By the end, during my film, Evie took over Jill's caresses and my hand cupped her buoyant breast rubbing the distended nipple behind her bra while Jill worked on Evie's lengthy, athletic thighs and higher into moist heat.

We couldn't wait to get home, caresses continuing on the way with less subtlety in my restored 57 Chevy with the helpful bench seats, Evie again between us, her hand working hard on my hard on while Jill rubbed between her thighs with vigor. Evie's other hand occupied my wife's hot sex. I wished I had a spare hand, but could only caress Evie's small but rigid nipple between gear shifting, and the other hand had to hold the steering wheel. Jill's pussy rubbing had to do while pulling on her own nipples the way she did when horny.

At home, Jill reheated the sauce, tomato with meatballs she had prepared earlier, and boiled noodles. Evie tossed a salad together. We changed into our domestic coverage, t-shirts and minimal genital coverage including boxers for me and panties for the ladies. Those all showed proof of our desire, mine with its tent and dots of pre-cum and the ladies with the gussets darkened by abundant moisture.

It was delayed gratification along with sating a less salacious need. We were hungry twice over. Jill let us finish our salads and most of our plates of spaghetti before accidently on purpose dropping a meatball onto her left breast.

"Oh that will stain," she complained.

"Not if we douse it with water," I suggested, pouring her full glass over her tit, making the cotton transparent, revealing her long thick nipple in all its glory.

"And I wanted to lick it off," Evie almost whined.

"Give it a try, honey," Jill agreed. So Evie leaned over and began suckling the proud nub through the t-shirt, her other hand reaching for the other nipple. "Oh fuck," Jill moaned.

A minute later, I exclaimed, "Oh fuck," and pulled back my chair. "I dropped a meatball in my lap."

"I hope it didn't burn, Joe," murmured Jill.

"Let me suck it clean," Evie volunteered gleefully, crawling under the table and grabbing my hard on through my boxers and bringing her lips to my glans.

"Oh, and I wanted you to lick off the sauce on my skin," Jill pouted.

"I'll get that," I said and leaned over to suckle her newly bared nipple.

"Good idea," Evie murmured from below, pulling my cock out through the boxer flap. "God it's more beautiful in the flesh," she purred before engulfing my glans in her hot and enthusiastic mouth. A moment later she removed it. "Forget I said that." 

Both Jill and I chuckled amidst out moans as my mouth vibrated on Jill's big tit and Evie's returned to its task. It felt great if necessarily inexperienced. I'd been sucked by the best, including Jill who outranked all by a considerable margin.

"Tell me what to do," Evie pleaded.

"Let me show you," Jill offered.

"Ah," I sighed, already missing Jill's textures against my tongue as she dropped down to her knees beside Evie. I reached down to caress two different breasts, both bared for me since Evie had lifted her t-shirt above it. It felt uncomfortable though, and I craved more pleasuring of both intensely desirable women.

"Let's take this to the bedroom," I suggested. Both women eagerly agreed.

All of us naked in the California King bed in the master bedroom, the ladies returned to their task. I watched Jill instruct Evie, my head propped up on my big pillow. My eyes coveted the sight of the tanned body and youthful buoyancy and the sexy curves between heavy yet perky tits crowned by small pink nipples and the equivalent meaty butt creating delicious flesh hillocks as Evie lay on her stomach attending Jill's words and my cock. That she tanned everything, obviously using our little discreet sunning roof deck more often than I had imagined, only made the sight of her that much more delicious. Adding to that were her sky blue eyes sending messages to me of her happiness and horniness at at last getting what she had craved for years. But despite the spectacular view of her and my eternally sexy wife and the ever increasing pleasure both women brought to my cock, I wanted to participate more. 

"Bring that beautiful pussy to me," I demanded.

When Evie shifted, Jill spanked her tight double egg shaped butt. "He meant me, Honey. You need to concentrate. Don't worry," she continued, straddling my face and lowering her delicious cunt to my lips, "We'll both enjoy eating your lovely honeypot soon enough. Right after we make him squirt."

That seemed to encourage an even more intense blowjob from the student. "Oh fuck," my voice buzzed against Jill's labia. Jill paused her instructions to purr her pleasure. Soon though she led Evie, an avid student (all A's in high school led to her scholarship to UCLA after all) to achieving her goal of sending me into ecstasy.

"I'm going to cum," I warned the gorgeous blonde teenager.

"You want it?" asked Jill.

Somehow I felt those flesh lips nod on my cock.

"Then swallow like your life depends on it as soon as he shoots. There's more of it than you expect."

Another nod and a brilliant suck and I let loose my seed into the loving mouth of our babysitter, groaning my pleasure against Jill's taut clit and causing her to shiver with a mini orgasm of her own.

"I did it," Evie crowed delightedly after swallowing all I had to offer.

"You've done that before," Jill murmured.

"Some," Evie admitted. "Mostly to get the jerks off. I only tasted it once and it tasted much more sour. I worried about...Joe's flavor, but I guess I wanted it so much that I didn't mind. I almost liked it."

"Defending your virtue?" I asked.

"I guess," she admitted. "But I'm not a virgin. I got pretty horny when I guy went down on me, and I had to feel what it felt like."

"And?" asked Jill.

"It hurt of course at first. Then it started to feel better just as he came. We tried it again a couple nights later. I think he should have made me cum on his tongue like he'd managed to do before, but I guess he knew I'd let him fuck me so he moved on too quickly. I even sucked him off before to give him more time, but no dice. It felt pretty good, but not nearly good enough. He got possessive and I got tired of him and his adolescent needs and decided enough was enough. I never dated boys after that."

"When was that?" I asked.

"Almost two years," she told us.

"Wow," I said. "You must have fought them off."

She grinned. "I let myself get tainted by the lesbian brush, hanging with a butch senior. Actually I was a sort of beard for my best friend Tanya."

"The nerdy girl," I nodded.

"Unh-hunh. Not that I didn't play with the lesbian for awhile. She had nice fat tits the way I like them," illustrating by squeezing and sucking my wife's tit, "but the rest of her didn't attract me all that much. I guided her into the arms of my best friend, and they stayed together until the lesbian went off to college back east."

"Rachel," my wife remembered. "Just like Justin and Eric you let them use the guest room."

"Yep," Evie grinned. "You guys are so cool. All my friends think so." With that she embraced and kissed my wife before embracing and kissing me. Her hot body pressed against mine as she lay over me causing the beginning of resurrection. She felt it, giggling into my mouth while rubbing her hot young pussy against it.

"Not yet you slut," Jill said, giving Evie another swat on her butt causing a provocative "Ooh," and a delicious squirm. "You may have been lusting after us all these years," Jill continued, "but we've been lusting after you, too."

Evie looked back at my wife. "How did you know?"

"We could tell, and..."

"Might as well confess," I suggested.

"I checked out your computer and saw Joe and I on it in flagrante delicto so to speak. I hope you're not mad. I just wanted to be sure of your desire."

"Just embarrassed," Evie responded, her blush testifying to the truth. "I've always trusted both of you, more than my mom even, and I knew you would only have the best intentions."

"I did."

"It's just that...you must have known what I used them for."

"Of course. And I hardly missed little pinky at all," Jill grinned wryly.

"With that boxful I found..." Evie blushed even deeper. "Sorry."

Jill chuckled. "I don't mind you sneaking under our bed. Little pinky happened to be an old favorite of mine. I figured you could use it more than me. I bet you smelled the sheets when you first used it." Jill's fingers slid into the moist heat of Evie's vagina. I could hear the wet strokes.

"I...did," Evie admitted, moaning.

"On your back, Honey. Joe and I get to explore your extraordinary body."

She obeyed and we surrounded her, sharing kissing her smiling lips to begin our journey.

When our lips got lower, past her heaving breasts that had occupied our attention for several minutes, our fingers swimming in the ever flowing natural lubricant inside her pussy, Evie reached down to capture both of our genitals. "Bring them up here to me," she requested. Who were we to deny such desire?

So while we touched and teased and tasted her from belly button to toes, she moved from cock to clit, fingering one while suckling the other. All of us were more than ready for the main event, especially Evie having cum explosively from a two tongued attack on her incredibly juicy and sweet tasting pussy. Honeypot indeed.

"Condom?' I asked her as I knelt between damp thighs.

"I'm on the pill and it's been two years," she answered, her eyes wide as she gripped my hard as rock cock and guided it where she needed it. It pushed past her portal lips, and she gasped, "At last!"

I went slow, stroking deeper with each careful thrust until finally bottoming out. She loved every inch of it, gasping, "So good," when I crushed her pubic bone with mine. We remained tightly conjoined, savoring the feeling, hers of never being so full and gently and lovingly so, and mine of being immersed in a tight hot lively sheathe. We kissed deeply and intensely.

When I began the slow sawing, bringing my glans to the edge of escape before sending it back deep, Jill took over kissing. My hand gripped Evie's left breast while Jill's gripped her right, Jill's other hand slowly rubbing the small but sensitive clit Evie sported.

"Harder Joe," Evie gasped, lifting Jill's mouth from hers with gentle hands before pulling Jill into another kiss.

I did as commanded, reading Evie's strong thighs lifting her hips against me to speed up even more and press in even harder. 

Minutes later we pounded together at a ferocious power and speed, Jill giving up her lips to let Evie breathe but continuing to rub much more vigorously at her clit. Jill's other hand busy squeezing with ever greater pressure each of Evie's small taut nipples left Jill without attention. I solved that by stroking high and deep with three fingers into her needy pussy and chewing on her nipples.

"Fuck! Joe! Aaaah!" Evie shouted, trembling with ecstasy as a tremendous orgasm washed through her. I slowed my pace but kept fucking her. Jill stopped rubbing her clit, but continued to press against it. Both of us watched her ecstatic face, the blush covering it and her chest. She looked breathtakingly exquisite despite the contortions and especially when they eased and she glowed in blissful comfort.

"So beautiful," I murmured.

"Mmm," Jill agreed.

Moments later, her breath caught, Evie grinned wide and said. "Awesome. Totally awesome. That was totally awesome. You two are totally awesome."




My Funny Valentine Ch. 07



"And this from a straight A student," I chuckled. 

"What do you expect from a blown mind?" she replied.

"That's better," I grinned, kissing her hot lips. "You're pretty fucking awesome too."

"Thanks." She felt me stroke into her. "You're still hard!"

"Yep."

"Cool. Could you...could you use one of those butt plugs in my ass?"

Both Jill and I chuckled. Jill, climbing off the bed to reach under it for the toy box, said, "A girl after my own heart."

A familiar position, I brought Evie's knees high, slipping a pillow under her lifted lower back as Jill sawed lubricant slickened fingers into the young beauty's anus and coated the butt plug she held obscenely between her thighs as if rubbing a weird shaped cock.

Soon it was in as was my cock. Evie loved it, writhing and moaning, stiffening and cumming. Busy behind me, tickling my balls while fucking the plug into Evie kept Jill from attending in any other way to our blonde beauty. That left me the not unpleasant job of suckling and squeezing her nipples and rubbing her clit. No kissing. Her mouth needed to be clear for all her gasps and howls of pleasure. As loud as she was, I knew she'd never experienced this intensity before. I would have heard.

Finally with a finger up my anus and a rub of my prostrate, Jill set off my orgasm. It rocked me. I undulated into Evie with each intense ejaculation. Feeling Evie's tight cunt buzzing around me with a last orgasm or the end of a continuous one only helped give me one of my best orgasms ever. It wiped me out. I dropped to my side and passed out after my penis slipped loosely from Evie's incredibly saturated pussy. Rarely had I been so selfish as to sleep before Jill got her cum.

I had nothing to worry about. 

Awaking to the lovely shock of Evie's ever improving cock sucking, she released my turgid flesh with a wet pop, announcing my return to my wife.

"Fuck me, Joe," my wife moaned. Glancing at her I stifled a chuckle. Two fake cocks filled two holes, the anal probe stroked in and out by Evie while Jill worked the other one, her other hand pressing a buzzing vibrator against her clit.

"Which hole?" I had to ask.

"My pussy, you motherfucker. I need your flesh and blood beauty inside me."

Stepping within two sets of thighs, I spread mine wide to accommodate Evie's continued anal fucking, lifted Jill's knees to her torso, tossed aside the thicker phallus from Jill's pussy and replaced it with mine, shoving deep with the real thing.

"At last," Jill moaned. "Fuck me hard you fucker. Harder. Fuck. Evie's a natural cunnilinguist, but I just had to have you! So good. So hard. In me." She continued buzzing her clit while I pulled on a nipple and bit the other and seconds later she shook with an overwhelming climax, her juices shooting out around the base of my cock and my balls. I had never seen her shoot without g-spot stimulation. The intensity kept her silent though her mouth opened up to scream. With one last undulation, she relaxed into oblivion.

"How long were you working on her?" I asked Evie.

"A half hour at least."

I laughed. "You can stop fucking her ass, honey."

"Oh yeah," she chuckled and eased it out. "I got her so worked up Joe. Even rubbed her g-spot forever before she shoved in the dildo. I just couldn't get her to cum. I think she needs you for that."

"You definitely did all you could," I grinned. "I guess you're right."

"That's some kind of true love I think," Evie said.

I shrugged. "I know she's mine."

***************

A few months later at the AVNA Evie brought Jill's cute man. I couldn't help but laugh.

Evie ended up embracing UCLA with enthusiasm and it, at least male and female students, embraced her right back.

The older ones impressed her, especially graduate students. And what heterosexual male or lesbian wouldn't be seduced by her beauty, her sexiness, her athletic and curvaceous body and her precocious intelligence. But she wasn't a slut.

"I'm horny," she'd complain to us cutely and either we'd bring her home for a long weekend of sex or we'd visit her at our apartment which we'd essentially given to her, it sitting close to campus, or Jill would visit when I was lost in writing or post production (when directing, my wife always worked on set). Often the call came after another disappointing date with a potential boyfriend or girlfriend who she dismissed from her life with a kiss goodbye, making sure they understood the kiss would be their last with her. She may have been disappointed, but I'm sure they were much more so.

It wasn't even a graduate student that passed her high expectations for a lover. A fellow freshman in fact who shared her major in business ended up winning the prize of her. Both had duel majors. Hers was economics, wanting the philosophical side of business sharing the practical side. His, it turned out, was film.

They had noticed each other from the beginning, him more than her of course. Being a shy and gawky nerd, his desire to strike up a friendship and hopefully more with her had been thwarted by both nerves and a lack of self confidence. He felt more and more emboldened though when he caught her eye more and more often. It still took a month into the second semester for him to sit next to her. And it took her to start the conversation that would begin his journey into the heart and the bed of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

It all had to do with me. As soon as he told her he studied film, my name came up. Though I hadn't been exactly a topic of conversations with her earlier suitors, Evie never felt shame about my oeuvre. As it turned out neither did Sam. Besides the usual masturbators who chose my films for the quality of both images and talent, I always had a cult of more high brow film nerds, getting scholarly essays in intellectual magazines along with features in porno rags. Sam claimed a place amongst those nerds.

At first he didn't believe her or was at least skeptical. Instead of being offended, she took it as a challenge. Their first date which happened to occur on the first day they ever really talked, she took him to the UCLA archives which had my earlier art films and they watched my wife in action as well as my own eight inch dong.

"That's his wife. Isn't she gorgeous?" said Evie.

"That's his cock. Isn't it gorgeous?" she said later.

She went into more detail than that, explaining how Monica had been my girlfriend before Jill and the soundman had been my best friend. Unfortunately, since everyone including me had aliases, that didn't convince him either, but it did lessen his skepticism.

"Aunt Jill," she said into my wife's ear, telephoning her from our apartment. "Do you think you and Uncle Joe could come by tonight?"

"Horny?" Jill asked Evie.

Evie chuckled. "Yes. Always. For you. But that's not why. It's sort of a favor. Please?"

Jill asked me, but already knew the answer. "Sorry honey, Joe can't come."

"We can fix that," Evie joked and shared a laugh with her much older lover. "But you can?"

"Of course. It's important?"

"I think it is. You might..."

"Then I'll be there. You want me to bring some leftovers?"

"That would be awesome," Evie replied.

Jill chuckled at the too LA word but let it go. "Give me an hour."

"Thanks Aunt Jill."

"Anything for you, honey."

I might have not been there, but Jill impressed Sam enough. He impressed her too. And he made her laugh albeit internally when she first met him.

That laugh finally emerged when Jill returned home. "He's you Joe, only skinnier and taller and nerdier and I bet he's got a longer cock too."

"So you think it's love?"

"I'd bet on it," she said.

"Nerdier hunh? I never considered myself a nerd. Not smart enough."

"You've always been my nerd, sweetie," she said. "Plenty smart and obsessed by esoterica, though not the dungeons and dragons sort. And though never as shy as me, you had that too. In fact I think I got you out of that."

"Because such a gorgeous woman wouldn't accept it?"

"No. Not at all. Monica was the hot little number and you managed to seduce her. You told me about your shyness. Otherwise I might have never known. You've never been shy around me. I think you needed not to be in order to be my knight in shining armor which you've always been."

"And you my dear are the fairest maid in the land."

"Maybe the horniest," she said, taking me away from my desk and into her arms and soon inside her lively cunny.

When I finally met Sam, I too had to stifle a laugh. I could see the likeness. Similar build and hair and nose. He had even more knowledge than I had at his age about film, and in some ways more than I ever had. We got on like a house on fire whatever that means.

It was at the awards show. Meeting me blew him away, but he got over it. Aside from my brief moment of old age recognition, we rudely talked through most of the presentations. Evie beamed at how well we clicked. Jill did too, actually involving herself in the conversations fairly deeply.

One thing I could tell. He may have been in awe of me at least initially, but he was completely infatuated with Evie. And thankfully, probably to his utter surprise, the feeling was mutual.

We brought him home with us afterwards, awing him again with our fabulous house and again with my set up in the downstairs area.

"Could I use this sometime?" he asked me breathlessly. "I'm working on a short screenplay, and..."

"Of course," I told him. "And Jill and I can help you with the equipment."

"Awesome," he said.

"Let me guess, born and bread in LA," Jill speculated.

"Worse," he responded with a sad shake of his head, "Orange County."

We all broke up at that.

Despite the late hour Jill whipped up another awesome (sorry, I've lived here too long) meal and we chatted over it for quite some time. I had rarely seen Jill so comfortable with a man besides me. She even sat close enough to him to nearly touch him.

That night we heard the moans from Evie's room. Like I said, Evie got loud when greatly pleasured.

We idly fondled each other listening to her. "Monogamous again," I said with a little regret. After all, Evie had a fabulously gorgeous and responsive body. 

Jill only shrugged. 

When the noises ended, Jill requested sixty-nine and I gladly agreed. We fell asleep at its end, my head still towards the foot of the bed. Jill slept with her face nestled against my thigh.

I awoke, still sprawled out naked, to the chirping noise of two excited women. That one of them, the only one dressed albeit in panties and midriff revealing t-shirt, stroked my morning hard on distractedly may have helped awaken me.

"I don't know, honey," I heard my wife say. "You're pretty skilled already."

"Maybe, but Joe's better than me, and you're better than Joe. And you taught me cocksucking better than anyone taught me anything."

"You were an avid student if I recall."

"Is his cock longer than mine?" I grumbled through an early morning throat.

She kissed the subject at hand. "Maybe an inch, and a little thicker. It's scrumptious. But not so expert as yours. He's definitely made for porn. It may not last in the beginning, but it pops back up and lasts longer every time."

"How many times," Jill giggled.

"Uhm...four?"

"No shit," Jill exclaimed.

"He's eighteen," I explained. "And I'll bet he'll last longer with lots of practice."

"I hope so," Evie giggled. "Although he kind of passed out before cumming a fourth time."

"It was pretty late when you two started," Jill said.

"Yeah it was. He did good for like his first time with me. He's only had one girlfriend and it didn't sound like they were much for communication."

"So what do you want Jill to do?" I asked her.

"I want her to teach him cunnilingus."

I looked at Jill and she didn't look worried or afraid or upset in anyway. "You know how Jill is with men," I reminded Evie.

"But you look so comfortable with him," she said to Jill. "You like him."

"We both do, honey," Jill responded with a smile. "We like him a lot."

"Me too," Evie grinned.

"Why don't you head back to him, love," I suggested, "so he doesn't wake up alone."

"Good idea. A blow job should wake him, and nice hard ride on the second prettiest cock I ever saw should really start off the day right. See you," she finished, adding another kiss to my cock.

"What do you think for breakfast, waffles?" asked my adorable wife.

"Maybe French toast. That's the best for nascent love."

"Such a romantic," Jill giggled, climbing onto my hard on and pulling me to the edge of the bed so she could fuck me in my lap, a most loving position. We lasted just as long as our loud neighbors, a lot quieter and more gentle and perhaps even more loving. I'm sure the results were the same, two extra long cocks, one a tad longer, filling the wombs of their lovers with seed, hopefully with the receivers of sperm enjoying it just as much. I know Jill did, and knowing Evie, she probably came even more. She sure sounded like she did.

So on our twentieth anniversary of becoming lovers, our sixteenth wedding anniversary, Jill's unique request to have another man make love to her, to feel her throat surround his cock and spill his seed deep into her pussy and maybe even her bowels, came as less of a surprise than it might have.

"Sam?" I guessed.

"Of course," Jill smirked. "Who else?"

"That cad you've been sneaking off to?"

"Fuck you, Joe," she laughed. That's a convincing response. "Evie and I have been talking."

"Now why am I not surprised," I smirked.

"Do you want to hear?"

"Sorry, sweetheart."

"Anyway, there's this whole cunnilingus instruction thing of course, but I decided on a caveat. After all, fair is fair. Evie gets the rewards, but what do I get?"

"What do you get?" I asked.

"Guess. What's the one thing I've always wanted, but my usual response to men prevents it."

"No more plastic up your asshole?"

"You're the one in my asshole usually, my naughty boy."

"Of course," I chuckled.

"And Evie wants it, too."

"Really?"

"Unh-hunh."

"We've always used butt plugs or your narrower dildos."

"She wants it if it means two hot cocks in her two holes spurting their nasty cum."

"You know I'm game. It's you I'm worried about. And maybe Evie's virgin anus."

"I'm ready my love."

"Is he that much like me?"

"Unh-hunh."

"Should I be worried?"

"That I'd steal a young stud from the hottest girl in the world who happens to be more than half my age?"

"Unh-hunh?"

"You're sweet," she said, kissing me thoroughly.

"After all he may not be the handsomest guy in the world, but neither am I, and he too is quite a bit younger than half my age."

"But you're still my naughty boy," she stated. Nough said.

****************

"But it's your anniversary," Evie responded to Jill via speakerphone.

"It's Valentine's Day, a celebration of love," Jill argued.

"Isn't it more like 'Be my Valentine' or something?" Evie argued. "You know, one on one sort of thing?"

"Do you have plans?" I asked her.

"Not that I know of. At least Sam hasn't said anything. It's not like we've been dating all that long. We've had one date less than a week ago and that was only because you guys invited us to the awards ceremony. And we've only been fucking since then too."

"Only the one night?' I asked.

Evie giggled. "Every night since, actually. He stays over when he doesn't have classes early like today."

"So he's not there?" asked Jill.

"Nope, but I'll be seeing him in class in like a half hour. He did say he wanted to discuss something when he left last night."

"Should you be going?"

"I'm ready already and it's like fifteen minutes to class. Thanks for that, guys."

"Of course," said Jill. "We rarely use it these days, and you getting so much out of it thrills us both. So you think he might be planning a date?"

"Maybe. That would be cool. But to tell you the truth I don't think he's all that romantic. It's not like he's a sensitive poet like you, Uncle Joe. No, I think he's trying to get up the courage to ask if he could come by your house to use the film equipment or something."

"I told him he could come by anytime," I said.

"I know. I think he thinks you were just trying to be nice or something. He doesn't know you like I do. But for some reason if he does get all romantic..."

"Go with it," Jill suggested, though she didn't seem thrilled with the idea.

"I don't understand it, but inviting me to be with you on your anniversary..."

"And Sam," said Jill. "We love you and you're getting close to him."

"I think I love him, Aunt Jill. Emotions get stronger everytime we're together, and when we're apart I really miss him and not just my pussy missing getting filled so much, but that too," Evie giggled.

"I already sensed that at breakfast that first night," said Jill. "You already looked so comfortable with each other. Of course you just tapped him of all his man juice, so that might have explained it." Both ladies giggled.

"But you, too, Aunt Jill. You looked comfortable with him."

"Pretty much from the beginning when I came by the apartment to prove your claim of knowing us."

"That's really unusual for Jill, Evie," I said. "In fact, since me, it's never happened with a man."

"You're not going to steal him, Aunt Jill?"

Jill and I laughed and Evie joined in in the end. "Even if I had a chance, I got my naughty boy and my favorite cock right here," said Jill.

"I envy you," said Evie.

"Thanks," I said.

"I should be going," Evie started, "but I just want to say that if he springs a date on me, maybe I could adjust it to include you. If he doesn't, I'll invite him. Either way I think I'd end up with a much fancier dinner." We all laughed.

"When should we swing by?" I asked.

"Six?"

"Perfect," said Jill, and we hung up. 

Jill looked up at me guiltily. "Can we get a reservation?"

"I'll find something," I assured her.

Our usual anniversary consisted of spending the day and evening on our private roof deck, cuddling against the February ocean breeze and eating picnic food, drinking wine, chatting about anything and everything, exchanging words of devotion to each other and of course making love several times. It was us at our most intimate. 

It only made sense that Jill bringing a man into the equation changed things, including bringing in the expectation of a romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant. We hadn't even thought about it until Evie brought it up, her expecting it to be sharing our usual thing. We kept it to ourselves, these intimate celebrations, and neither Evie nor her mother realized we'd been making love right above their heads instead of going out for the day and evening and reappearing late in the upstairs living quarters.

Evie called us just before we headed out into LA traffic to pick her up. "Oh my God," she shouted into the phone. "He brought me a dozen fucking red roses, but they were like this deep red, like red velvet or something. Said they were unique like me so no one dared to choose them so they were extra cheap, like they awaited his arrival, the poor college student," she laughed. "How weirdly romantic is that? So yeah, he wanted to take me out, but he had to wait for the lecture to end to do so since I got there just in time for it. Everyone gawked at us, at me with a lap full of heavenly smelling flowers and at my beautiful nerd, both of us blushing red as the flowers most of the time.

"So yeah, he invited me to dinner, and I gave him our change of plans. He seemed momentarily disappointed until I pointed out you guys could buy us something really fancy and after...Well...This is about...what we talked about isn't it Aunt Jill?"

"Yes, everything, I hope," Jill told her with a chuckle.




My Funny Valentine Ch. 07



"Oh good, cause I told him we'd be sharing," she giggled, "causing the expected reaction."

"So he won't mind some old lady's body in bed with him?"

"You're inviting some old lady?" Evie cleverly countered. "I bring you into bed with us as fantasy material. He knows about us."

"Just Jill?" I asked.

"Mostly. He's heterosexual, Uncle Joe. But you've been known to substitute for any backdoor toy we might be using."

"Good," said Jill.

After a pause, Evie asked, "Dress up?"

"Yep," I answered.

"Cool."

"So it won't be a problem for our poor college student?" asked Jill.

"I took care of it," Evie replied. "We went shopping after class. We found a really cool like antique tuxedo that fits him kind of loosely, but he looks adorable in it. We'll bring it back to get it better fitted. Maybe it's the whole unique thing, but I kind of like the way it hangs on him."

"Do we need to pick him up?" I asked.

"He's here. We've been teasing each other, driving each other crazy with no relief."

"Us too," Jill giggled. And we had, hiding out in our little sanctuary and playing at the edge of climax without going over. "I swallowed him early, but..."

"Me too," said Evie. "I hear blue balls are murder."

"Got that right," I said. "See you soon."

"Can't wait," said Evie.

Being a foodie, Jill ended up steering me to a couple of gay friends' new Bistro just off Melrose called Bête Sauvage and featuring a unique beast du jour entrée for a five course prix fixe fine dining experience. Being so specialized and getting a negative review from the old fart sourpuss (as Jill labeled the LA Times food reviewer) had kept things slow. Jill had actually planned on visiting and writing her own review for the local Malibu paper in her weekly column and sending it to the LA Times as well. They often published her words in a "View from Malibu," blurb.

It's something we shared unlike some older couples we have known, the circle of friends we acquired over the years. I met her foodie friends at gatherings I could attend and found them mostly charming. And in turn she'd join me at artist gatherings I had initiated early on in our arrival in LA, a sort of multi-media workshop with writers, dancers, sculptors, painters, composers and performance artists sharing their latest works or more often their works-in-progress. I called it Fiasco West, since I had borrowed the idea from a composer that lived near campus at the upstate New York college I had dropped out of which he called Fiasco. These separate friends, both the foodies and the artists, met monthly at both my wife's and my insistence to keep things sustained. And when events happened like a new restaurant or one of my friends had a show, we'd try to go en masse to them and meet afterwards.

Anyway I knew and liked these young gentlemen (nearly thirty, but when you're a decade and a half older that seems young) and only wondered why she had let me call several of the usual suspects for fancy romantic dining and being told they were full up.

"I don't know," she admitted apologetically. "Maybe I thought it would be mixing business with pleasure or maybe eating some exotic animal didn't suggest itself as romantic."

As it turned out, she thought wrong. The place had this rustic atmosphere like we were feasting in the midst of the Black Forest or something. With candle lights and ambient light that seemed like a camp fire somehow, it could have been one of our celebratory picnics, but with amazing food served. And being Valentine's Day, the couple had created a subtle theme of love. No naked cherubs shooting arrows, thank god. Instead glitter flickered on the tables and tiny lights flickered on the walls like stars. "Fairy dust," Carl, the maitre d' partner informed us about the glitter. "The kind Puck changed the lovers with in Midsummer Night's Dream."

"It's lovely," said Jill. "Do you often do themes like this?"

"For holidays," he shrugged. "Like for Christmas we adorned the walls with holly and evergreen twigs. It made the place smell delicious. And for New Years I found some sparklers that gave off incense scents and had some chaser lights that looked like fireworks, small and subtle, but celebratory."

"And the music?" I asked. A violinist and cellist played beautifully in the corner.

"We invite street musicians we bump into. String players or acoustic guitarists usually. Clean them up and pay them with food. We let the customers know they can tip them if they like."

"That's really cool," said Evie.

"It's beautiful," I said.

"Thanks," he smiled.

"You should think about the theme thing," Jill suggested. "Makes the evening special. Maybe special nights when things tend to be slow mid week or maybe a week of some special effect. Let people know with advertising that looks like invitations or something." 

"Thanks Jill," the short, dark haired man with the pretty face responded, kissing her cheek. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," Jill smiled. "And don't worry. I know how fabulous Chris cooks."

He rushed off, busy being charming.

"This is perfect," Evie announced taking my hand and Sam's on top of the table. I took Jill's and Jill took Sam's. The ladies leaned into Sam and me for kisses.

It was perfect: the company, the amazing dinner, the atmosphere, everything.

We ended up with lots of doggy bag containers. "We loved the food, Carl," Jill told her friend who looked worried, and we all nodded enthusiastically. "It's just..."

"We have plans that too full tummies might hamper," Evie explained. "It's love day after all," she winked. 

"Of course," he grinned and blushed. Sam blushed too. The rest of us didn't, being shameless. And horny.

You see, we'd been playing under the table. Neither Jill's nor Evie's hands in my lap surprised me. Nor did mine in theirs surprise them. Jill's in Sam's definitely surprised Sam when he noticed both Evie's hands above the table and, with a giggle, caressing his cheeks as she kissed him. "Isn't love fun?" she said after the kiss, making him blush harder which caused her to giggle and go in for a second kiss. "We're all going to have lots of fun tonight," she purred just loud enough for all of us to hear.

"Okay," he managed to say. It was a struggle.

Driving home I felt like a chauffeur, the two ladies and the young man occupying the back seat. Plenty of room for them to play in the big old Chevy.

Less than five minutes after I started home I heard Evie decry, "Isn't it beautiful?"

"It is," Jill replied.

"Told you," Evie responded.

I caught Sam's amazed eyes in my mirror and stifled a laugh. I nodded to him. I think he needed that last bit of permission, although I don't think it calmed him all that much. Especially when I heard slurping sounds.

"Fuck," he moaned.

I saw him cringe and release three or four times, edging towards climax before the ladies eased back. I knew their talent well. His eyes never caught mine after my nod. They looked downwards, moving right to left and back. 

"Please," he begged unsteadily.

After a smacking sound I heard Evie tease, "Please what, sweetie?"

"Oh God!" he moaned.

Another smacking sound, and Jill said, "Let's put him out of his misery, honey."

Smack. "Okay."

"Not misery. Ecstasy! Oh fuck!" he growled, his face scrunched up from the intensity of it. I swear I could hear swallowing.

"Don't be greedy," said Evie with a chuckle. A moment later she said, "Okay, Aunt Jill."

Then she surprised me, crawling over the backseat, her lovely black dress open and her breasts hanging free. Pulling up the skirt of her dress, she showed me her lovely heart shaped blonde pubic hair crowning her damp slit. Her fingers dipped in while she leaned in for a quick kiss. I dared to shift my face to meet her lips, tasting foreign cum, especially when she darted her tongue into my mouth. It couldn't be anything but momentary. I had to watch the street ahead. The taste didn't bother me. I never swallowed a man's cum directly, but had shared seed with actresses for my movies and of course my own many times from my wife. But the warmth of her lips definitely enflamed my libido. 

"I'm still hungry," she muttered cutely and dove for my lap, somehow freeing my cock from a very tight place and sending it into her throat.

"Not a good idea," I told her reluctantly, trying to concentrate on driving with an immense distraction.

She decided to ignore me.

Truth was, I wanted this. No, I needed this. And more.

Driving on the busy highway, I made my way right and took the first exit. Luckily we were in large corporate building land and I drove into the nearest empty parking lot.

As soon as I parked, I negotiated my body beneath Evie's and brought her frothy honeypot to my mouth. I sensed her need and didn't hold back, seizing her clit between my lips, sucking it and tickling it with my tongue.

"Yes!" she proclaimed before filling her mouth and throat with hard, throbbing flesh.

"Cumming," she announced moments later.

"Me too," I replied, buzzing her shivering clit. My tongue pressed there as I erupted with intense ejaculations. Both of us undulated against each other.

With the last of my orgasm trickling from my little slit, I moved my head from her pussy and looked at her face, red from the sexual blush and coated with my cum. "I guess I missed," I quipped, pulling the decorative hanky from my breast pocket, turning my body to reach her face with it and delicately cleaning off the spunk.

"I ate some of it," Evie grinned beneath my cleaning. "I guess we were both ready to pop."

"I guess," I chuckled.

"You want me to drive?" asked Jill, her big lovely breasts hanging naked over the back seat. I kissed each awesome nipple and her lovely bee stung lips, tasting strange cum again, a first for us.

"Can I drive, Uncle Joe?" Evie pleaded. "Sam can keep me company up here."

"Good idea," I said, exiting the car and waiting for Sam to put away his admittedly exceptionally long cock and slip out of the back.

"You're sure you're cool about this?" he asked me as we stood together, his eyes an inch or so higher than mine.

"Are you?" I asked him.

He only nodded.

"Jill?"

"Very," Jill giggled.

"Then we're cool," I said crawling into the back seat and into my wife's arms. "Try not to distract Evie too much."

"Hey, I'm a good driver," Evie complained.

"I know you are, honey. I trusted you with my kids didn't I? Just keep the teasing to a minimum you two."

Twenty minutes later we arrived safely home, my wife sated from my busy tongue and again from my cock when she straddled me, her thick nipples between my teeth after a long and loving kiss became too suffocating for her. She'd rarely been so passionate in her rise to orgasm and its overwhelming achievement. It only got more intense.

I felt like an old straggler when Jill and I leisurely strolled hand in hand to our master bedroom, though we paused to remove all our clothes and fondled naked flesh, slowing us down even more. By the time we entered the room, the young lovers had gotten naked as well and Evie slowly rode Sam's impressive cock, Sam squeezing Evie's full young breast with one hand while she filled his mouth with the other. I watched his long shaft glisten with her joy juice as it emerged from her depths and saw it push out a small hill on her taut abdomen when it went deep.

"You want to go first, Jill?" Evie murmured.

"Did you forget about the enema?" Jill asked her.

"Oh poop," Evie responded cutely, and we all chuckled.

Except Sam. "Enema?"

"You two have a nice long loving fuck while I revive Joe's dick while holding in a butt load of warm water," Jill said.

"Kinky," said Evie.

"Don't worry," Jill continued, "I'll kick him out when I'm ready to explode. We're not that kinky." Looking down, she saw my penis start to create a bulge in the front of my suit pants. "On second thought, my voyeur husband can watch you two. Resurrection is inevitable."

"What can I say?" I said. "It's not just for art that I chose my profession."

"And I completely empathize. Why else did I not have the least qualms with it," Jill grinned, rubbing my crotch. "I'll see you guys in a few minutes."

Suddenly changing her mind, deciding being with me on our anniversary as much as possible was more important than voyeurism, her other hand held my hand pulling me into the bathroom.

I had never actually watched her give herself an enema before, and for some reason it fascinated me. "Fill the tub, my love," she told me as she squeezed the mix into her rectum.

I added the floral soap that softened our skin into the filling bath. "How was it?" I asked her, both of us knowing what I meant.

"Kind of exciting seeing the expression of awe on the cute boy's face as I sucked his big mushroom. I felt like a goddess enrapturing a mortal, especially when I revealed my tits and his mouth gaped. Feeling strange hands, shy and inexperienced, explore my tit flesh and my tight nipples surprised me in their effectiveness. He didn't know what I needed and he either squeezed too hard or not hard enough and yet just the incredible difference between your expertise and his fumbling excited me. When he bent his head down to suckle, I felt maternal and yet too horny to be, kind of naughtily incestuous as if it was Pan doing the suckling with adolescent abandon and at the same time it was you first tasting me there."

"Sam looks more like me than our son does. Pan got the best of both of us," I reminded her. "Broad shoulders, athletic, but he'll probably end up my height or taller."

"He got your sensuous lips and eyes."

"They're as dark as yours and bigger than mine."

"But just as expressive," she argued.

"Yeah, he got stuck with the facial/emotional gene like me."

"I always loved that about you. I always felt I saw your soul written on your face, like you had nothing to hide." She stroked my face gently.

"I never have with you," I said. "Even dark thoughts. Even when we argued and moments of hate flashed through my thoughts scarring my inner eyes like bolts of lightening. I knew they would pass and I would once more see how beautiful you are, body and soul, and how extraordinarily lucky I am that you focused on me to be your man."

"My obsession," she grinned tightly, holding in her bowels. "Who'd have thought it would last so long?"

"Time filled the dimensions of it, bringing a statue to life."

"You were never a statue to me. Never a male Pygmalion. I fell in love with your thoughts as much as your soulful eyes and cute smile."

"And your cuteness overwhelmed that first night we made love."

"Not my slutty outfit?"

I chuckled. "I have to admit seeing you in your true dimensions, not hidden in loose tents, certainly heightened my attraction to you."

"Amongst other things," she grinned, rubbing my cock.

"Your body always has and always will have that effect on me."

"Even when my dugs hang to my knees?"

"Even then."

"Right."

"Your proud nipples will always lure my lips to taste them." I demonstrated.

"Mmm," she purred, capturing my head and pressing me against her breast. "I'll always be glad of that."

"Me too," I mumbled, my mouth full of tit flesh and nipple.

"Admit it, love, I've always been an odd one. I never attracted interest like Monica did or Evie for that matter. An ugly duckling."

"Turned into a swan," I told her, gazing into her eyes. "My swan. Your unique beauty is a gift my love. Like an ineluctable puzzle with infinite permutations and always surprising solutions, your face never gets old for me. It always fascinates me. Your beauty is a revelation."

"This swan needs you out of here post haste," she groaned. "Go watch our lover get fucked."

"How..."

"Five minutes?"

"Okay my love."

"Get out!" she grunted.

"Okay," I chuckled, dashing out the door.

I snuck into our master bedroom watching Evie and Sam gently fuck, Evie covering Sam's body as she shifted subtly on his cock, bent to occupy her pussy at that extreme angle. Their lips remained joined, their eyes closed, their hands exploratory, ignoring me.

Though I made little sound, Evie finally noticed me, reaching out in a gesture, with her hand low, easily interpreted. I brought my curved, half hard cock to that hand and she captured it and brought it to her lips inches from Sam's face and wide eyes.

"This is your cock," she said to him between lip embraces of it as it expanded into full erection. "A tad shorter and leaner, not much, and just as beautiful." Her hand pulled me in deeper. I moaned at her quick tongue and her suctioning mouth. Her hand rubbed my glans when she removed it with a wet pop, the rubbing easy with the abundance of saliva. "I've always loved this cock since my pussy desired such things, and the man attached to it much longer." She sent me deeper, stretching her throat, her head shifting back and forth in a quiet fucking motion. When it emerged even wetter than before, she continued, "I'm beginning to love yours too, and the man attached to it, if that's okay."

Sam's hand gently redirected her eyes to him. "More than okay," he said. "It's exactly how I feel about your incredible pussy and your incredible body and your incredible...you."

They shared a chuckle and then their lips as Sam began shifting upwards, entering her deeper and pulling farther back. "Mmm," she hummed into his mouth, her hand still rubbing the edges of my glans. 

"Fuck me, Sam," she said when lips separated, lifting her torso from his. Their mergers quickened and intensified. "But don't cum. Not yet. You can make me cum though." 

Shifting so she could rest on her knees, she brought his hands to her breasts before returning a hand to my cock. Her other hand dove for her clit, but I knocked it aside and did the honors. She grinned at me and pulled me back into her mouth, fucking me with her lips at the more rapid though still slow speed that her vaginal lips fucked Sam's cock. 

The difference between Sam and me was he aided in the fucking whereas I let her take command of the fellatio. Jill's fears had engrained that into me, keeping my hand off her head when she gave me head, and Evie actually appreciated it as well, telling us at one point how her mouth felt almost raped by an overly randy fellow teenager. I had a feeling Sam got that lesson as well. If nothing else, Jill and I had taught her to always communicate her needs and desires. Being shy or restrained only lessens the joy of sex.

"Joe," I heard shouted from the bathroom. Evie winked at me, gave me one last thrust into her throat, kissed my glans and replaced my fingers at her clit. 

"Fuck me harder," I heard her gasp as I exited the room.

Jill beamed at me from the bathtub and at my bouncing cock. "Get in and keep standing," she said. I noticed no smell of feces and the thick, scented candle, the only light in the room, explained it. It smelled sweet and musky like a room full of horny women. It actually added to the sexual thrill I felt.

I brought my cock to her mouth as I stood over her. She angled herself to take me down her throat. "I want you to hold my head and fuck my nasty, cocksucking mouth like it's my cunt or my asshole," she said a moment later before returning my glans into her narrow gullet.

"What?" I asked her.

She grabbed my hand and placed it on the back of her head, her eyes tearing and pleading as she looked up at me. 

I did as she commanded, but too gently apparently as she shifted to faster speed and continued her baleful gaze. So I pulled her lips against the base of my cock repeatedly and more and more aggressively, pulling her off with a clutch of her hair in my fist to let her breathe a moment before continuing. 

I noticed her arm muscles shifting while her hand hid under the bubble coated water and her other hand plucked at her rigid nipples. Suddenly her head moved with frenzied speed, my hand barely controlling, until she pulled me deeper than ever and paused. I could feel her throat muscles ripple around my cock as if I were inside an impossibly tight cunt shivering with orgasm. In fact everything resembled the chaotic peak of fucking where all control becomes lost in overwhelming pleasure.