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The Knock

By: oldfogey



This story was written for a friend who prefers to remain anonymous. It's a story that could happen to any of us under the same circumstances.

* * * * *

I heard the knock at the door and shivered slightly, suddenly afraid. What had started as an innocent, on-line exchange was instantly real.

Time. It was all about time. Time for children, time for work, time for home, time for parents with failing health. In the end there was no time for me. Am I angry or even upset? No, it was just the way it had to be. 

But now I found I had time. A new found freedom that let me explore the world that had developed all around me. One day while doing some research on the computer, I decided to see what all the talk was about chat rooms. I figured out how to register and decided to cruise through a few. Some were amusing. Reading what others wrote for all to see. Some were absolutely wild. There was one with a captivating name. The gist was, "I may be married, but I'm not dead yet."

I read for a while and enjoyed reading the interaction and the flirting that was going on. Then a message popped up on my screen.

It began so simply. I sent a short polite response to that message. The next day he sent another e-mail acknowledging mine, filled with small talk. I responded. He was so easy to talk to. Slowly the volume built until it was an almost daily event, something to look forward to in an otherwise very mundane life. Then I realized that the messages were becoming longer and maybe even a little personal. The exchange began innocently enough, and then slowly began to become a little flirtatious. It was fun to play the game, even if it might be a little 'naughty'. Two people, far apart, passing notes back and forth like we might have done in school as children.

I chuckled as I read his messages. What a pleasure it was to have met. Nothing could happen, could it? Soon it was easy to exchange a little more personal information, something a little more intimate. It was like I knew him, an old friend - so easy, so likeable. Why shouldn't we talk? 

Then came the first phone call. I know I stuttered and stammered, filled with anxiety. The longer we talked, the more I wanted to hear his voice. I felt the soothing sounds calming me. He reminded me of our messages back and forth and, just like those messages, the conversation became more personal. When he called again, I wanted to hear more. It had become a lifeline, filling a void I couldn't identify, but so comforting. I began looking forward to hearing from him. The days when I didn't hear from him were anxious ones until the next time. He was a voice to identify now. The calls continued and became more frequent, replacing the e-mailed letters. We talked of family, friends, sadness, joys and needs. It was the needs that bonded us - emotionally and, yes, even the reality of unmet physical needs. We tried to understand more about each other. The time became too short and the conversations became more personal as we poured out our souls to each other. I found myself so needy that I would even share my physical intimacies with him. That was when I realized there was so much more we needed to share. He told me that the sound of my voice and descriptions of what aroused me made him cum. And I found myself wanting that. Wanting that power to make him spill his seed as he thought of me with him - for the pleasure of hearing him gasp as he reached orgasm. He begged me to tell him what he could say that would bring me to that elusive peak. I wouldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him of the hours alone in bed when the thought of him would bring me to the edge. I never crossed the line and allowed myself to go all the way. He encouraged, teased and assured me that I needed to let him take me there, but I couldn't bring myself to take that final step. 

When I learned that my travels would take me within four hours of him, I stammered out the news. He begged me to tell him when and where we could meet. I knew I couldn't, but as the date neared and his pleading increased, I had to tell him. I knew it was impossible, but even the discussion of whether or not we should meet were exciting. Did I dare go through with it? My nights were filled with the same anxiety I had felt when he had not called. Finally I resolved my problem. I told him that if he wanted to meet me it would be at the Hampton Inn in Arlington on the 23rd, less than a week away. Now the phone calls became filled with "what ifs," and passion. We both knew the possibility of disappointment, but he wouldn't allow it to exist. Our talks turned to that first touch that first kiss. We knew that more intimate moments would follow. By this time we knew what magic turned each other on and what we wanted from each other. We didn't share pictures, depending instead on instinct and the visual images our minds had formed of each other.

When I arrived in town and got to the hotel, I looked at the phone for a long time. If I made this call, it was the last chance for either of us to back out with no ill feelings. Finally, heart beating as rapidly as it had the first time I heard his voice, I called him. I offered him the opportunity to say no. I couldn't and, having gone this far, he didn't have the courage to take that opportunity either. After getting off work he was coming by for a couple of hours that day, but we scheduled the entire next evening to spend with each other.

Then there was the knock at the door. With my hand on the knob, I opened it slowly. He stood there, expectantly, and I asked him one last time if he was sure. He said "Yes" and I stepped back allowing him completely inside. He stepped through the door, his eyes looking at me as though he wasn't certain I really existed. I could do no more either. There he stood, literally a stranger, a man I had never seen and who had come to make love to me. Closing the door softly behind him, he reached out to me and pulled me into his arms. In that hallway, with my knees trembling so hard I wasn't certain they would hold me, he kissed me. Suddenly everything came together. The touch of his lips on mine, the feeling of his body against me sent the passion I had bottled up for so long to its peak. It was like a new birth and our kiss lingered as we searched each other's mouth for the truth. Pulling back for a moment I asked him to say something - it was his voice I wanted to hear. He spoke my name and told me how beautiful I was as he pulled me back into his arms.

Standing in that entry way, he began to undress me. Feverish fingers found each others buttons, unable to resist any longer or maintain any semblance of control. He kissed my shoulders, letting my dress fall to the floor. His hand pressed my breast out of my bra and his lips closed over the nipple, bringing it to an immediate erection while his other hand covered my other breast. He was covering me with kisses down my body, pressing me farther into the room. Only the bed prevented me from falling to the floor. It caught me behind my knees and I pulled him down with me. His lips trailed down my stomach. I felt his hands tugging at my panties until one foot was free, then the heat of his mouth going lower. His hands were on my breasts, gently squeezing them as his tongue slipped between lips engorged with passion and into the valley of delights. I was gasping at the erotic sensations his hands and mouth were sending through my body. Then he was on his knees, between mine, with his tongue buried in my pussy, sending tremors through my body at each touch. The shudders of my uncontrolled passion continued as I felt his tongue raking the depths, touching me in places I had so longed for him to taste. I found both my hands in his hair, pulling him tighter and tighter against lips engorged with passion.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I reached down and pulled him up on the bed with me. He was reluctant to leave my pussy. I hitched myself higher on the bed as he lay down beside me. We spoke the little reassurances to each other and then his hands were exploring my body once more, spreading my legs, lifting them to put his head between my thighs once again. I couldn't resist him, nor did I want to. His tongue began making love to me once more. Each touch was electric and I soon came with such force it seemed to take control of my entire body.

As I calmed and my thoughts began to clear, I turned and faced him, knowing that what he wanted was the same from me. He knew my intentions and pulled himself higher on the bed as I slid lower. I took his cock into my mouth and began to move my lips up and down slowly and deliberately. My tongue massaged his cock and it jerked at each touch. With both hands I reached down and cupped his balls, lightly massaging and rolling them from one hand to the other. I could hear his uncontrollable moans and sounds. They served to encourage me to continue. He reached down and ran his fingers through my hair and touched me gently. Then he was pulling me to him and laying me down on the bed, he put his body over mine. We were looking into the depths of each other's eyes as he began to slowly push his cock into my pussy. Never looking away from each other's eyes, we began to move first together and then away from each other, enjoying each touch, each feeling, each movement until finally the passion overcame both of us. He began to move harder and faster as I moved in rhythm with him. Finally in a moment of total abandon, he came and filled my hungry pussy with the warmth of all the cum his cock could release in short throbbing spasms.

After a few minutes, as we lay holding each other, we each spoke one word, "Hello."

The Knocking Over of the Trophy







The Knoll



My college campus is set in the hills above a small coastal town. One of the pleasures of my commute is that long, smooth bike path that leads from the highest point on campus to the Main Entrance at the foot of the hill. Before the longest stretch of downhill, there is a slight crest amongst the rolling golden hills. At the peak, heading off the bike path is a small dirt trail. Down the trail there is a clearing in the tall grasses where a small bench sits, with a perfect view over the city and across the bay below. This is a nice place to get high, and many students use this as an after-class smoke spot. Farther down this path, towards the line of redwoods that mark the beginning of the woods, a lone, twisted oak tree shades a cluster of fallen trunks, an array of natural benches under the canopy. I love to read couched in the bends of the branches of this oak. 

This sunny afternoon, I had pulled my bike up short at the crest, and wheeled it down the path to the tree. I was just leaning it up against a bough when I noticed that the tree was populated. The tree wasn't my secret, it was known and used, but I still found it somewhat surprising to find someone there. I looked around and realized it was one man, about my age, doing pretty much what I had intended to do. But his book was in his hand, forgotten, and the sunlight filtering through the leaves dappled his bare chest, where he lazily twirled his finger. He turned at my approach, and met me with a broad smile of white teeth on tanned skin under soft blue eyes. 

I introduced myself, and waved my book at him,

"Looks like we're here for the same thing."

He laughed lightly and returned the wave, halfheartedly. "Yeah, guess so, finding myself dreaming more than reading, though, it's too nice out!"

I set myself up at an angle towards him, so we could talk if we wanted or not, no pressure. I sat down and began to read. 

I like my reading material to reflect my environment, and it wasn't working. The book was a dense sci-fi dark mass with puzzles and coal black imagery, the bizarre words and brutish violence clashed with the beautiful sunshine and warm sea breeze. I noticed I wasn't reading, just staring over the top of my book, off across the shady grove and to the sea. In the left of my eye was that other guy, he turned as I looked at him, and our eyes met. A small flash of those pure teeth. 

A few minutes later, I think, my head snaps up short. I've nodded off, literally laid my head on my chest and knocked out. I look around, I can't have been out more than a half-hour. The other guy is gone, or, no, he's outside of the tree's arms, standing stock still in the grasses, reaching high above his head with both arms and staring into the sun. Mountain Pose. He bent, and stepped, twisted and righted until he returned to the same stock still position. He was doing sun salutations to the sunset. I could see the clean muscles ripple along his back, and his smooth toned legs stretched wide with every repetition. After a few more, he stops abruptly and turns, he smiles at me watching and starts towards me. 

He has a thin thread across his chest, purple, or some dark blue, but the dusk light won't show it clearly. His only clothing, some light shorts, are wrapped tightly around his hips, from the stretching. I can see him, his cock, tight against the material, wrapped slightly around one leg. He stops in front of me, and cocks an eyebrow. 

"Do you practice?"

"Yoga? No, I'm more of a cyclist."

"Oh, that's a bummer, yoga's great for your body, better than anything."

"So I here, you know, I just like to go fast. "

This man, this tanned, blonde, man. The body of a twisting sapling, and the brow of a noble, stepped in and kissed me, straight on the lips. 

"Is that fast enough?"

I kissed him back, pried his mouth open with mine and searched his perfect lips with my tongue. His hands were all over me, under the back of my shirt, pulling it up and over my shoulders, we broke the kiss. He stopped to admire my broad chest, and smooth stomach. We came together and our clean supple flesh rubbed and massaged each other, we ground our hips together, two cocks, yearning for release, yearning to spring up from their bonds and into the warm depths of a mouth, an ass, or a hand. I won that race, with two thumbs he hooked the hem of my shorts, and slid them down as he squatted in front of me, lowering himself slowly so to kiss me all the way down.

My cock sprang up as the elastic band slid achingly slowly down across the shaft, and popped off the head. I could feel his hot breath on my cock, I flicked it up, and on its fall he caught it neatly on his tongue, right under the head, his face bent back and my dick lying across his mouth. His lips were next, small light kisses and flicking licks with his tongue. After the lips, he took my into his warm mouth, and sucked me with his cheeks, and rubbed his wet mouth up and down my shaft, where he painted my balls with his tongue. Burying his face below my cock, he took each ball in his mouth and rolled them around with care. Then back up to the head, a quick kiss, and he slams his face down to my stomach, my cock bending down his hot, wet throat. Up and down, again and again, he fucks his face on my cock, sucking the fuck out of it the whole time.

With a pop, I'm out of his mouth, and he's standing up, coming up to my level. His chin drips spit and precum, and I kiss him, and suck it in to my mouth, then I'm down, and I slobber his rod. I'm taking it so far down my throat I can't breathe, just need more of his gorgeous, iron uncut stick. He grabs my head and thrusts the deepest I've ever taken a cock, and with each short pump I can feel hot cum flood into my mouth, some down my throat and most around his beautiful cock, pumping me with cum. He slows his pace and pulls out of my soaking mouth. I reach up with a hand and spit his cum and my spit into my hand, and stand myself. He's looking awfully satisfied, and his cock begins to lower. 

I take his hand and shake my head, 

"Nuh uh, not through yet, sweetie."

His eyes light up in surprise, and delight, as I twirl him neatly and guide him from behind over to the nearest fallen log. I push him over at the shoulders and he bends and braces himself, spreading his fine toned legs and leaving his cute pink asshole pointing up at me and sloppy, droopy cock hanging below. I take the cum in my hand, and lube my own cock, then use two cummy fingers to open his ass, and warm him up. Then, I push the head through his outer ring, and I thrust down his tight ass. I don't see or feel anything from there, I just fuck him, and his screams and moans are the score to my ecstasy. I remember his ass exploding cum when I pulled out my cock, and watching my seed slowly weep down those fine thighs. 

When he turns around, I kiss him again. Slower, this time, no biting, and a gentle tongue. He meets me here, and we stand, embracing. The sun has gone and the moon is yet to come. I cannot see him in the dark. I cannot see his blue eyes, or bright teeth. He doesn't have a tan in this light, and his sleek form is indistinguishable from the growing shadows behind it. With a finger to my lips, he turns and grabs his bag. I can hear him leave, swishing through the grass.



The Knot Hole



Pearl was masturbating again. I'd watched her do it so many times that I knew from the way her fingers moved that she was close to an orgasm. 

I had a lot of pictures of her on that towel draped lounge chair— diddling herself as her husband did yard work around her. Pearl didn't seem to care he was there, even making him stop to fetch water or something from the house. Once he brought her out a vibrator. I thought he acted more like a servant...or a slave than a husband.

I also had a lot of pictures of her fucking her big black boyfriend, so many in fact that I didn't take anymore. I just watched now, but my camera was always ready for something new. 

Her face grimaced; her body stretched; her back arched; she opened her mouth—and she came. I was holding my binoculars, jacking off and close to coming as she finished, then relaxed back into her chair with her eyes closed. That sweet feeling in my nuts was beginning to swirl when Pearl's breathing slowed and she sighed, then stared up dreamily in my direction. My heart, and my hand, stopped when I saw a look of awareness creep across her face as she noticed two points of light in the shadow of my garage dormer.

I realized what had happened and pulled back, losing my erection, but it was too late. She sat up, her eyes squinting to slits, then jumped out of her chair and quickly walked to her house. I put my limp dick in my pants and went down to the garage and into my front room, not sure what to do. Soon there was angry pounding on my door. 

"You were watching me! You pervert!" The sexy young woman standing in front of me, the one I'd watched secretly from my studio and jacked off over, was smaller in person. She had blue eyes—angry blue eyes—that made me feel like a dirty schoolboy caught by his teacher. I shrunk, thoroughly intimidated, and all the more so when I realized that she was aware of it.

"Is your wife here? Does she know that you spy on me....you fucking pervert!" 

My wife? No, Bessie wasn't here, we went our separate ways these days. Pearl wouldn't be interested about our relationship, about how years ago I would hide and watch her with those young rodeo cowboys. I saw how she lusted at their tight, bulging jeans, their big belt buckles; their youth. Then the car accident and the operations and Bessie wasn't the same again. Something happened inside and she lost interest....in everything. 

Bessie did a lot of volunteer work now, while I on the other hand spent a lot of time watching and taking pictures from my attic of my young neighbor. And jacking off. 

Pearl demanded to see where I "spied on her," so I led her to the small room filled with my stained glass projects. She went to the tiny window that looked down into her yard, "So, this is your fantasy land, you filthy old pervert...." then she saw my camera with the long fat lens laying on my work table. "You have pictures too? Show me! Show me those fucking pictures!" 

I thought of her husband, how he must have felt as he brought her a sex toy, and pulled the manilla envelope from a drawer. As Pearl studied the images I thought I noticed a small change in her face: it was still red, but not so much from anger. Her voice dropped as she pointed to a picture of the black guy. Pearl said that 'Simon' was her boss. He'd set her up on a phony charge of embezzlement and was now blackmailing her for her pussy. 

Pearl said she would have sucked his dick anyway, then picked up one with his tongue in her cunt and put it on the table along side one with his black cock thrust in her to his balls. 

Her left hand had slipped under her short cotton skirt and she was now shamelessly fingering herself. She looked up at me, smiled, and said, "You fantasize about me, don't you mister Foster? Tell me....tell me about it." Then I was that little school boy, confessing about how I dreamed of her sucking my cock through a knot hole in our fence. 

Pearl knew she was in control. She saw the saucer on the table next to my camera, the one obviously crusted with my sperm, picked it up and told me to unzip my pants. "You watched me, now I'm going to watch you. Get your cock out." She held it under my stiffening prick and it was one time I had no trouble getting hard. It only took a few strokes until I spurted another layer over the dish. Pearl laughed and said she wouldn't have to be at that 'knot hole' very long. 

Pearl liked the idea of sucking cock through a hole in the fence, even mine. It sounded perverse, especially if it was right after Simon had left. I learned that Pearl was perverse—very perverse. 

Pearl took out another picture, my favorite, and put it along side the others. The one of her husband eating her pussy after she'd been fucked all afternoon by Simon. My cock was shrinking in my hand when she took the finger from her pussy and dipped it into what I my cock had squirted in the saucer. Then that finger slipped between my lips, hooking me like a fish, and pulled me unresisting to my knees. Pearl said I was going to do something for her then sat on the table and pulled up her short dress. 

She kicked off her panties, raised and spread her legs, and I was looking at those pink folds covering the hole where Simon's tongue had been; the hole his thick cock had filled; the hole her husband had unknowingly sucked Simon's seed out of. I was more than ready and willing to go where the others had. But Pearl had something else in mind. 

Pearl flipped on her stomach, putting that lovely bubble ass in my face, then turned her head around and said, "Kiss it, doggy, lick my asshole." Her voice drove my face into her crack and her fingers began rubbing her pussy. She was demanding: "Get that tongue in my ass. Further! Further....God dammit!" Her sphincter clamped my tongue and her fingers worked harder, beating against my chin. She yelled out, "Oh, you dog. Oh, you dog. Lick it!" and came hard. 

Pearl wouldn't let me fuck her, she said I was too old, but she would let me rim her ass. "Like a dog." I'd never done that before and she had me set my camera up so "Her little dog" would be in the manila envelope along with her lover and her husband. But she wanted more pictures, and as she left took my cell phone number. After she was gone I jacked off again. 

The house Bessie and I bought twenty years ago had a nice garage attic that I turned into a stained glass studio. It had a tiny dormer making it possible for me to look unseen into my neighbor's backyard and I began to watch old Mrs. Grey working in her yard, her invalid husband always sitting next to her in his wheel chair. I sat in my darkened room and watched their family and friends in their family room when they visited. I got an almost sexual thrill from knowing I could see them without their knowing I was there. 

The trees and shrubs grew, trying to hide their yard, but I always kept a little spot trimmed for my viewing pleasure. Then old Mrs. Grey died and their daughters put the old man in a rest home and sold the house. 

A young couple bought the Grey's house, Jack and Pearl, and the backyard became more interesting. I began watching Pearl, a pretty red head with a small, thin, build, small tits, and a great butt. That ass, along with her wild, frizzy hair and the freckles sprinkling her small nose, had me fantasizing of her constantly. And jacking off—especially when she played with herself. One day—a week day—when she was supposed to be at work, I went to my studio and from habit looked out the dormer to her house. The curtains in the family room were open and I saw Pearl with a black guy. A big, black guy. And they were fucking. 

I scrambled down to the garage, looking for an old pair of binoculars and for over an hour watched them do everything I had fantasized doing to her myself. That evening I bought a telephoto lense for my digital camera. 

That first time I thought it could be rape. He hadn't taken his clothes off and was wearing a business suit with a tie and brown wing tips. But as I noticed how Pearl sat naked on a stool, pulling on his thick black tool that hung out of his pants, it became obvious she wasn't being forced. She gripped him with both hands, greedily licking around his huge cock-head with her pink tongue and his head was rolled back and his eyes were closed. Pearl had to work to stretch her mouth around it. No, Pearl wasn't being forced at all. 

Pearl got it in her mouth and her hand was between her legs, rubbing her slit, as her head bobbed up and down. Then she pulled it out and held it against his belly, nuzzling her face against his large balls and licking and sucking them. But the big guy wanted more and picked her up like a doll, holding her up side down so her legs fell over his shoulders; then he buried his face in her crotch and lapped at her pussy. Suddenly, he threw her on the couch, pulled her ass up by her hips and shoved his huge cock into her. Pearl's face was pushed into a cushion as he began deep stroking; I was wanking my cock when he came. 

He pulled out and rolled over and a long silvery ribbon of cum that was still attached to his cock followed him, glistening in the light. Pearl turned and took hold of his slick black rod, licking, sucking and cleaning it of his spunk and her juices. That made me come. 

I wasn't sure then if this was a one time thing or not, if it wasn't then I wanted pictures. 

I took a lot of pictures. I never intended to use for them for anything other than getting me off and stored them in a manila envelope in my workbench bottom drawer. When Pearl wasn't fucking the black guy or pleasuring herself in the backyard I'd take them out and whack off. 

One day I got a kinky bonus. Jack got home after one of Pearl's sessions had lasted longer than usual, she didn't seem to want to quit. Pearl had become the aggressor, demanding more and more from her lover. Normally he would have left by this time but she wouldn't let him go, she poured lubricant over her breasts and pushed her tits together so he could fuck them. Not until he spurted his third wad of the afternoon did she let him put on his clothes and leave. All my sex organs went to full tilt boogey as I watched her, sprawled on the couch with cum dripping from her lips, pull out a vibrator and get off again. 

Pearl got up and left the room when no more than a minuet later Jack came in and sat down. Pearl returned wearing a sleek one piece dress and red boots with zippers. She stood in front of her him, her hands on her hips, and said something to him then he rose and kissed her. Pearl sat and raised a boot, pointed at it, then he kneeled and began licking its sole. She raised the other and put it on his shoulder. Jack had pulled his cock of his pants and was stroking it. My camera was getting hot from all the pictures I was snapping.

Pearl's lips moved and jack unzipped her boots and slipped them off her feet. Holding them to his chest he put his face between his wife's thighs where that thick, black cock had just been. I wondered if he could taste her lover's cum. Pearl put her hands behind her head, watching him, then said something again and he leaned back with his cock in his left hand, jacking it faster over her bare feet. In a short time he hunched his shoulders and squirted on her toes. When he finished, as if he'd done it many times before, her husband bent down and licked it off. 

By the time Pearl caught me my envelope was full of pictures: her small mouth stretched over his big black knob; on her knees as she sucked his balls and her hand jacking his thick cock; her tongue worming into his ass-hole; her tongue licking at a cum geyser shooting from the slit in his cock-head (That was a great shot); him shoving a butt plug in her ass. I had pictures of them in every position imaginable. But the best was that one of Jack eating Simons cream from her cunt. I jacked off a lot to that one. Later on Pearl told me when she saw how I reacted to it she knew I would do whatever she wanted. 

Pearl called that Thursday. Simon was coming so be ready, she wanted good pictures. That afternoon everything she did was for the camera. Simon didn't have a clue as she maneuvered him to the positions she wanted, always looking over his shoulder and smiling up towards me. Pearl had ordered me not to masturbate because I had to have something for her afterwards; She had a taste for come.

I watched Simon leave and Pearl pick up her phone, then my cell phone rang. I walked to the corner of the fence, to where the knot hole was, and saw her lips waiting for me. 

Sunday, when Bessie was at church, Pearl would come to my studio and get her pictures. Oh yes, she would also have me do her "Doggy trick" for her.