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The Story of A

By: Paris Waterman



I had celebrated my fiftieth birthday two days earlier, and now I was relaxing by the pool of a luxurious Caribbean hotel, nursing my second pina colada of the afternoon. Nursing might not be the appropriate word for it as my doctor had warned me about the use of alcohol and my heart condition, stressing that they did not go hand in hand.

Oh, I was free to drink in moderation, mind you, but not excessively. The problem now of course was, here in the balmy Caribbean, drinking was almost second nature, and with a heart condition, most other pastimes were out of the question. But I was adhering to the doctor's advice and keeping my drinking to a minimum of four to five cocktails a day. 

It was four in the afternoon, so you can see why I was nursing the damned drink.

It was enjoyable sitting there watching the young lovelies sauntering past in their bikini's. I can tell you this, the younger the woman it seemed the smaller the bikini. Just then two girls sidled past wearing nothing but strings and some delicately placed beads. Yes, they managed to avoid nudity, but there were moments as they walked past me that each and every part of their anatomy was revealed to me.

So there I was, sipping gingerly at the dammed pina colada and squirming around trying to made a comfortable adjustment to my newly risen erection when another well-tanned woman walked past. I reckoned her age to be in the early forties, and thought to myself that she looked damn good in the red and white bikini she wore. 

Imagine my surprise when she stopped next to chaise lounge I lay on, removed her sunglasses and said: "Orin, is that you?"

What followed transpired quickly. I really hadn't gotten a good look at her face as she was standing with the sun behind her, her face essentially a silhouette. The voice was familiar, and obviously she knew me. Who was this woman? I asked myself while at the same time my brain seemed to register a familiarity in her facial features as my eyes slowly became accustomed to the brightness.

"Yes, that's me," I said, "but you seem to have the advantage on me." I was struggling to place her, but the moment she smiled, I remembered!

"Addie! Is it really you!" I gasped, and hurriedly sat up, knocking over the damned pina colada in the process. Laughing, she put her hands up to her mouth and nodded as the memories came flooding back.

"Why, it must be twenty years or more...." And I left it there.

She reached out and took my hand. I covered hers with mine and as images of her as she looked back then flooded through my memory I felt the heat fill my loins.

Addie glanced down as women are wont to do when they seek to find out how they are being perceived by an admirer. In short, she looked at my crotch and noted the telling bulge, and had the decency to blush through the deep tan.

"Orin, it is wonderful to see you again. I never expected it. What a wonderful surprise!"

"Sit!" I said, "I'll order you a drink. We have a thousand things to talk about."

"I know, I know," she replied. "But 'I've really got to be somewhere in a few minutes. But we must get together and catch up. Are you doing anything this evening? Perhaps we could have dinner together?"

"That would be perfect," I said, and followed with, "Here, at the hotel?"

"That suits me fine," Addie replied then leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, and she was gone, walking briskly away from me to her appointment with whomever.

My mind was awhirl with thoughts and memories. Who might she be meeting wearing that bikini? Is that really any of my business? I couldn't concentrate on anything but Addie the remainder of the afternoon. I was so wrapped up in thinking about her that I paid no attention to the many nearly naked beauties passing by. 

After all these years to see her again! 

For the remainder of the day I couldn't concentrate. She didn't look a bit like I would have expected. I would have thought she'd be frumpier; that she'd have lost those slender legs that I lusted after, after all she had to be what – forty or forty-five. And that only reminded me that I was about ten years older than she. Yet I had seen with my own eyes just how attractive she was – the bikini she had worn wouldn't have hidden the tiniest blemish. She was in fantastic shape for any age.

I had another pina colada, after all, I'd spilled the second, and so this was merely a replacement and not a third, (read excessive) drink. Images of our friendship passed through my mind: Addie had worked for a small company that leased office space in my building. Oh, not 'my' building, I mean my firms building. I was an up and coming executive with them. I would rise to a vice president level before leaving to start my own public relations firm, but I'm meandering and should get back to the point, which is of course, Addie and how we met.

I should add a word about myself – the me of that time. I was not an introvert, nor was I exactly an extrovert, I was probably somewhere in the middle. I dated young women on a regular basis and had a reasonable amount of success with them. (Which means I bedded about twenty percent of them.) But in my particular building with one exception the women were aloof, or unfriendly, hardly acknowledging me when I spoke or smiled at them. 

The exception was a lovely dark-haired beauty who never failed to greet me with a warm smile and a remark whenever we encountered one another. She was fairly tall, but slim almost to the point of being skinny, with enormous limpid dark eyes that sucked me in if I gazed at them too long. She also had a pair of magnificent breasts that took all my willpower to refrain from gawking at when we did meet.

Her name was Addie. She was perhaps twenty-four and had a college degree in Psychology, but unfortunately in those days she had to settle for a less than well-paid job as a secretarial assistant and part-time translator; one might suspect the infamous glass ceiling prejudice, I suppose. 

We soon became firm if intermittent friends, meeting perhaps 2 or 3 times a week in the corridors to chat, and I admit I sometimes scheduled my wanderings in the hope of bumping into her. One day I asked her to join me for lunch and she rewarded me with a winning smile and an acceptance that had me walking on air. We ended up in the building's cafeteria, had the dried out meatloaf and laughed about it instead of complaining. I learned she was planning on getting married in three months and looking forward to starting a family.

I hid my true feelings and wished her the best, but I think she saw through me, although she said nothing further about it.

We continued our platonic relationship, even exchanging intimacies about our respective relationships – me with the various girls I was dating and my struggles to get into their pants, which Addie found hilarious. And Addie's confession that while she thoroughly enjoyed sex with her fiancé, it was always hurried sex because they only met at his home, (her parents hated him, and refused to allow him in their home) and, while his parents were happy about the coming marriage, they were always in close proximity.

Infatuated as I was with Addie, I wondered about this strange situation, of course. Why did her parents hate him? Was that what made her want to marry him? But while I pondered these questions and more, time passed and the wedding date grew nearer. 

It was on our last lunch together; I had arranged a little deli-picnic for us in the park. It was spring, and Addie wore a light-weight coat to the park, but as she prepared to sit down she removed it and I saw she had worn a white sweater and more importantly, had removed the bra she'd had on earlier that morning. Her darkened areola was quite visible under the thin cotton sweater. It was as if after all our meetings she had decided to reveal her breasts to me before getting married.

She laughed delightedly on seeing my stunned look, and said, "So, Orin, how do I compare with all those girls you've bedded these last few months?"

"You... you're more beautiful than all of them together, Addie."

My eyes were fixed on those nipples that seemed to be growing bigger every second. Addie laughed delightedly and said, "Oh, look how you're staring, Orin. You're giving them hardons. See for yourself." Still laughing, she pointed to each nipple in turn.

Taking that as permission to touch, I reached out and carefully ran my palm over each hardened nipple in turn. Addie drew in her breath then slowly released it as her smile grew larger and larger. Her hand dropped to my lap and lightly brushed over my erection. 

"I'm glad to see I have that kind of effect on you too."

"Addie... I started to say.

"No," she said quickly, reading my mind. "I we can't do it. I'm getting married and you are coming to the wedding. Hump one of my bridesmaids, I've told them about you. They're pretty girls and eager to... meet you."

And that was that... almost.

I went to the wedding and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Her husband was a nice enough chap. I might have liked him under other circumstances, but he'd taken Addie from me and for that I couldn't forgive him.

I did get to dance with Addie, and during the dance she whispered that I should ask the red-headed bridesmaid to dance and giggled, "She's hot for you, really she is."

I followed her instructions and twenty minutes later found myself in a closet with the redheads legs wrapped around my waist as we fucked ourselves silly.

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't Addie's legs wrapped around me, and I was haunted for several months after with visions of Addie being in the closet with me instead of the redhead, (whose number I threw away on the way home from the wedding.)

Addie and I met for lunch soon after she returned from the honeymoon. If anything she was more beautiful than before - her skin positively glowed and there was a sparkle deep in her eyes, and she smiled constantly. Marriage obviously agreed with her. 

Still, I noticed her wince briefly as she sat down, and lifted an eyebrow. She grinned at me. 

"I'm a bit sore, Orin. I'm not used to all the attention!" she laughed making a joke of it.

"Well you were saving yourself for the honeymoon," I said to lighten things between us, "but most brides aren't sore after the honeymoon; during it perhaps, but after?"

"Can I tell you something in the strictest confidence?"

"Of course you can, Addie."

"The night we arrived at our destination I got my...."

"Period?" I said, finishing her statement.

"Yes, my... period. I couldn't disappoint my husband so I let him...."

"In the backdoor," I said, again finishing her sentence for her.

"Yes, back there. It was awful."

"Where is he? I kick the shit out of that lousy bastard!"

"No, no! You mustn't!" Addie protested.

"He had no right to hurt you!" I said as my eyes filled with tears. 

"He had every right. He's my husband, Orin. My husband. Besides, I allowed him to do it. He asked permission and I gave it to him."

"He had no right to hurt you."

"It only hurt the first two times. After that I got used to it. In fact I've gotten to like it. He does... well you don't need to know what he does. That's between us."

"Tell me this much," I pleaded, "are you still...."

Addie interrupted me to say, "Yes. As I said, we both enjoy it." She started to laugh, and I had to laugh along with her. Still laughing, she touched my arm probably more to assure me more than anything else, and added, "It doesn't hurt at all anymore. I intend to recommend it to my girlfriends. I think they'll like the idea since it removes the possibility of getting preggers."

"I have to admit you've shocked me with this disclosure."

"Oh, Orin! I wish we had known one another earlier...."

"I wish the same. But life is what it is, Addie. Still, I'm here if you ever need me... for anything."

"I know, Orin. Now to change the subject, how did it go with you and Isabel?"

"Mmmm, Isabel?"

"The bridesmaid I fixed you up with. The redhead!"

"Oh! Isabel... well we had a great time at the reception."

"I know that, she couldn't wait to tell me. I can't believe you took her to a closet, Orin."

"There were no rooms available at the hotel. All the guests were staying there."

"But a closet? And come to think of it, Isabel had a room at the hotel."

"She did?"

"Yes, she did."

"She never said...."

"Well... I did fix it so she really had no chance to tell me."

You dragged her into the closet and had her dress up around her waist before she could get a word out."

I began to laugh.

"What's so funny, Orin?"

"Isabel couldn't have told me about her room."

"And why not?" Addie asked, but I saw she was beginning to laugh too. 

"Um, there's no way I can put this delicately. A woman can't talk when her mouth is full."

"ORIN!"

"It's true. Ask Isabel."

"So are you dating her?"

"Mmmm, actually no, I haven't seen her since the wedding."

"She didn't give you her number?"

"I lost it, I'm sorry to say."

"I'll call her and get you two back together."

"Please don't."

"Oh, I thought...."

"Addie, we humped like bunnies in that closet. Isabel is a delightful girl and I surely hope I haven't hurt her. She wanted it as much as I did that day. But I haven't felt any need to connect with her again. 

"She's not you, Addie. She's nice, fantastic in fact; but she's not you. There, I've said it, I hope you'll forgive me."

Addie's face flamed in embarrassment. "I know... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put the two of you together."

"Let's talk about other things. Let's talk about you, Addie."

"No, let's not talk about me. I'm married, Orin. From now on what

happens with my husband and me is private." 

But unable to contain herself, Addie went on to say, "We met another couple and got drunk. I mean it was a good drunk, not the kind where you feel terrible the next morning. We sort of compared notes with them and found other ways to do it. I never realized you could have so much fun!"

"Addie, you're tormenting me."

"Call Isabel, Orin."

"No."

"Call her. You know, he never leaves me alone. Not that I'm complaining, you understand. This is the longest I go without it, when I'm at work. I wish I could meet him at lunch... oh, I'm sorry, Orin. I didn't mean that."

I grew cold with fury. "I think you did, Addie. I don't know why, but I think you meant to hurt me in saying what you did."

I stood up and left her sitting there. If I hadn't I might have slapped her and I never wanted to have that happen.

Three days later we made up and agreed to have lunch the following day. It was as if nothing had happened between us. Addie was on a sexual high. The brunt of her lunchtime conversations dealt with her sexual activities the night before, or what was planned for that night. And I was happy for her; happy to be in her company. But my nights were long and boring. I wasn't dating anyone. In fact, I wasn't even looking for anyone. 

The following month she revealed that she was pregnant. She missed several lunch dates with me because of morning sickness and other problems women encounter when carrying a child. And then she dropped out altogether – taking maternity leave. I was despondent at the loss of seeing her on a daily basis, even if she belonged to another.

A month passed before I saw her again. God knows why, but I found myself in Bloomingdale's shopping for a Mother's Day present. 

I was going up the escalator and saw her coming down. I called to her and asked her to wait for me, and immediately took the escalator down.

She seemed glad to see me. I got a warm kiss, and promptly returned it. Then I stepped back to admire her. Addie's stomach was bulging under the maternity dress she wore. She looked tired, but gave me a wan smile and told me how good it was to see me. We spent a few precious minutes in polite conversation, and then she told me she had to go. 

She reached into her purse and took out a business card and scribbled something on the back then handed it to me. 

"Call me tomorrow at eleven, will you, Orin?"

"Of course, I said, and watched her walk away.

We had lunch the next day. She appeared to be her old self, but everything she said contradicted it. She was tired, achy, nauseous, and argumentative. Her words, not mine. 

"And look at me, I'm enormous!" she exclaimed as desert was served. "I'm twice the size I used to be!" 

Addie was certainly enormous: her slim arms and neck contrasted almost grotesquely with her swollen belly. Her breasts too, normally small and conical, were swollen and full. She wore a flimsy green silk wrap - it was a hot summer that year - and her big nipples and distended navel showed through.

She continued to tell me how uncomfortable carrying to term was for her.

"You know, some women are lucky. They hardly gain a pound, are active right up to the delivery, and then spit the damn baby out like you do a watermelon seed at a July cookout."

"I know it's uncomfortable, Addie, but look at the bright side...."

"What bright side? After delivery there are the sleepless nights... the attempts to shed all the excess weight, and talk about ever looking the way I did before!"

She started to cry and I put my arm around her and held her trying to comfort her.

"I just... I just want to get it over with."

"It will be over soon enough, dearest Addie.

She winced as the baby kicked then took my hand and placed it on her belly.

"Feel it?"

Addie's skin was hot under the thin green silk. I put both hands on her stomach, leaning against her thighs, conscious of the beginnings of an erection at the proximity of her pussy. Silently, I cursed myself for entertaining such thoughts.

'He likes your hands," she said. 

"Here, put your ear against me; see if you can hear his heartbeat."

I pressed my ear against her bulge, heard the blood singing in my ear and realized I was stroking her stomach. I felt her hands rest on my head, holding me against her. We stayed like that for what seemed an eternity. I was never happier.

Suddenly I felt the baby kick. Actually it kicked twice. 

"Did you feel it?" Addie whispered.

"Yes, it's a wonderful feeling to have an unborn child reach out to you."

"He never does this," she said, meaning her husband. 

"Then he's a fool."

She lifted my head to look into her face. "You're so sweet," she said, and hugged me. I held her against me, her head against my chest, and after a while heard a sniff. I turned her head to me. A tear ran down her cheek, and she brushed it away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, everything." She smiled wanly. "I didn't tell you the real story about what happened on our honeymoon."

I didn't have my period that first night as I told you. After checking into the resort he had me dress for him. You know, special lingerie a woman has for this extraordinary event. In addition to the filmy negligee, he had me wear a pair of black pumps. These particular shoes had 5" heels on them. I would never wear heels like that, but he insisted. I felt like a whore wearing them, but then he was all over me and suddenly I was naked, except for the dammed shoes."

"Addie, you don't have to tell me...."

"I have to tell you. I want you to understand. What followed was normal enough. He kissed me, sucked and squeezed my breasts and I played with his penis. But my world turned upside down when he had me stand on his penis with my high-heeled shoes. 

"I have to say it felt odd, but good to crush his penis. It turned me on, more than his kisses. He grew bigger and started making it jerk this way and that and soon we were both laughing about it. I wanted him in me, but he was not in any hurry. He had me squeeze his balls next. I hurt him, I know I did, but he insisted that I continue to squeeze them. He wanted me to step on them with those damned shoes, but I refused.


The Story of a Big Beautiful Man



Men aren't called 'Beautiful' very often -- handsome or virile maybe, even studs -- but this is a story about the man's side of the BBW equation. The side that shows a large man can be treated and avoided as often as a large lady. You might say that it's okay to be here, if I don't have to date you. So I call it the story of a Big Beautiful Man, a BBM.





I needed a job. I was a working woman in a man's world, or I wanted to be. I'd been out of work for more than six months and was running short in my bank account. I'm a hard worker and a minor computer geek and know some of the standard PC applications like Word, Excel and Access. But, doesn't everyone? My last job was lost during downsizing and you know the current economy.

I'd been out everyday, beating the bushes, checking every Internet job search site I could locate and had gone to the classified ads in the newspaper. It was near the end of the day and I was tired and frustrated. The last guy I'd called had left it with "... don't call us, we'll call you." Right! And I'll win the lottery tonight.

I sat in the car, about ready to head home, when a small ad in the paper caught my eye. I'm not a domestic, but my place is clean, and this was a small ad placed by a single guy, living alone, looking for someone to do part-time domestic work like cleaning, dish-washing, clothes-washing, and other regular stuff. The pay was good for two to three days of part-time work, and it would leave me free to pursue other job opportunities. It couldn't hurt to call, so I did.

I got an answering machine asking the caller to phone back after six. It was already after five-thirty, and the voice was nice, so I headed home and planned to call back when I got there.

At about five after six I called again. This time he answered the phone. I explained why I was calling and he sounded interested. He asked me a few careful questions and explained more exactly what he expected. I verified the salary and he asked when we could talk more. I made an appointment for six-thirty the following evening and wondered what he looked like. He sounded educated, polite, soft-spoken and interesting.

When I got there the next evening I was rather shocked. The apartment was a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and one bedroom. It was already clean and neat because he told me that he'd cleaned up a little after we'd talked last night. I could handle the work easily and with the salary it would help out my financial plight. He also had all the machinery I'd need to help in cleaning.

My shock came when I saw the guy. He was six foot tall, not bad looking, had a small mustache and Fu-Manchu, and long brown hair and he was indeed very polite. The surprise was the guy must have weighed over four hundred pounds -- he was a very large man. His size made him walk kind of funny, but he was nimble. All of his furniture was oversized, too.

I'd worn a conservative outfit, skirt and blouse suitable for an interview, and he was dressed in white shirt, tie, and slacks. He asked me to sit at the table and then went through my references. I was only slightly uncomfortable because of his size, but he soon had me relaxed, and the interview went well. However, because of his size I wasn't sure now that I wanted the job and asked for time to think it over if he was interested. He said that he was interested and made me the offer and then he gave me his business card and asked me to call with my decision.

I wasn't really planning to do more than call him the next day and turn him down, but that morning I got a call from my bank. It's a good bank, but they told me that they'd just cleared the check for my rent.  They also said that I had about eight dollars left in the account and that I would be receiving a service charge from the low maintained balance. 

Well it was hard times, so I called the guy and accepted the job. After he'd thanked me for calling back and for accepting, he told me where to find the key for his apartment.

I went over just past noon and found the key right where he'd told me. I left the door open until I'd checked the entire apartment and made sure I was alone, and then closed it and went to work. I started with the dishes, not many of them because he apparently ate out most of the time. When I opened the refrigerator, it was nearly empty, but I discarded some sour milk and a plastic bag full of green and squishy stuff that might have been lettuce in an earlier incarnation. I also removed some small bowls that contained things that had dried or molded in place. I emptied and washed the bowls.

Next, I straightened the living room, discarded old junk mail and some old newspapers and then vacuumed. Finally, I moved on to the bathroom and bedroom. I washed the tub and shower even though they really weren't dirty and I put a few things away. I changed the towels and then pulled the sheets from the bed and changed them. I picked things up and straightened things out and then I got clothes from the hamper and went down to the apartment complex's laundry room. I used my own money to wash and dry the stuff and went back upstairs.

While I folded and put things away, I noticed several pair of his briefs. Because I was curious, I wrapped one of them around me, and it almost made four complete trips. I'm only five foot two and weigh about a hundred and fifty, so I'm no small girl, but this guy was huge. I finished cleaning and left.

About six-thirty my phone rang and it was him, again. He thanked me for everything I'd done and noticed that I'd washed and dried clothes. He said he would leave some money on the kitchen table to reimburse me. What a kind man I thought, to call me, thank me, and reimburse me.

The next morning I was there at about ten. It wasn't a work day, but I needed the money to eat. When I checked the kitchen table, he'd written me a check for the week's work even though I had just started. He'd added an extra twenty dollars for reimbursement and any future washing that needed to be done. In a postscript he added that I was to leave him a note any time the laundry money started running low and he would leave more on the table.

Well, you can't imagine how welcome that check was as I put it in the bank. In appreciation for his generosity, I straightened up the place again and made the bed. It was only twenty minutes of work, and it might let the boss know how grateful I was. I believe that it never hurts to give a little extra on the job.

About a month later, still looking for a job, I got to his place about nine one morning, entered and started work. I'd finished the kitchen and living room, and just finished the bathroom when I noticed his bedroom door was shut. I opened the door and started to enter when I noticed that he was still here.

I was amazed and a little embarrassed because I found out that he slept nude. He was asleep on his back and his stomach was almost flat with his chest. What amazed and intrigued me, was that he had a full erection in his sleep. I noticed that he wasn't huge, nor was he small, but very comfortably sized. For some reason, I was intrigued and continued to watch him for several minutes. He was still fully aroused as I quietly stepped back into the hall and almost closed the door.

Before I closed it, I stood watching him through the small opening of the almost closed door. I don't know why. I'd seen men before, many times, and seen even more pictures and had several discussions with girls at work, but I was still intrigued by the sight of this man. I must have watched for another ten minutes until he stirred slightly and turned on his side facing me without waking. Now I could see even more of him and he was still aroused. He hadn't once touched himself and but now I was very aroused.

What was I thinking? This man, if he ever rolled over on me, sat on me, or fell on me would crush me. Even so, my mind wondered what it would be like to sit on top of him and feel that arousal first hand and in both hands.

Finally, I managed to close the door, assemble my things and leave. The phone rang about one o'clock that afternoon and it was him. He thanked me for what I'd done and explained that he was still home because he'd had to work late the night before and into the early hours of this morning trying to finish a project. I explained that I'd heard a slight snore from the closed door and assumed he was still home and so I'd left. I lied.

Another week went by and I still had a vivid picture of him in my mind. I'd had a late interview and so I finally arrived at his place about five. While I was cleaning, I noticed the tremendous quantity of books he had. Some were stacked, but most were in nice bookcases in the living and bed rooms. Apparently, his interests ran from his job to world religions and more. I noticed a small diploma packet slid between two books on a bookshelf and pulled it out. He held a Master's Degree in Computer Science from a well-known university.

Many books on computer science and networking dotted his bookshelves. It seemed strange that I'd never noticed before, and never thought to ask what he did for work. I was dusting the shelves when I heard a key in the door. I turned as he opened the door and then remembered how late it already was. I apologized, but he just asked if he could help me finish. As we went through the rest of the apartment, we talked.

He told me that he worked full-time at a small Network Systems Management company and taught occasional classes at the university. When he asked, I felt embarrassed at my limited knowledge, but told him what my previous jobs had been. He asked about my job search and when I told him of my bad luck, he volunteered to help tutor me if I wanted.

He asked if I had to be home right away and when I said I was only going to do my own laundry, he said that the least he could do for keeping me late was to fix dinner. He was an excellent cook and even insisted on doing the dishes himself. I told you he was a nice guy. He was well-bred and he had great manners. I enjoyed the evening. When I left, I had four recommended books in my bag that he'd loaned me and the privilege of borrowing any others that I thought interesting.

I took off almost a week from job searching and concentrated on those books. Some of the material I already knew and some was duplicated between texts. I finished them rather quickly and borrowed more.

About two weeks later, I arrived nearly at my usual time and started cleaning. After a few minutes, I heard water running and looked around the apartment. Finally I went to the bathroom, a light was on and the door was open. He was in the shower. I stepped back to the outside edge of the doorway and peered in. I could see most of him through the fogged door of the shower. As he turned, I noticed that he was completing a soap down and he was sporting an erection again.

I thought to myself and wondered if this man was always aroused. Then I watched as he took it in his hands and washed it thoroughly. It almost seemed alive in his hands, but he wasn't masturbating, he was washing. Now, I was aroused again. As he took the shower head down and started to rinse, it was my cue to leave.

However, this time I just returned to the kitchen and started puttering. I heard the shower turned off and a few moments later he walked into the living room with a towel over his head drying his hair and a towel around his waist. He must have heard me because he threw back the head towel and stared at me. Instantly he was red-faced and apologizing and startedto back up. It was cute until the towel around his waist came loose and fell to the floor and completely exposed him. He screamed an apology and fled for the hallway. I was smiling, and still aroused, as I walked over and picked up the towel.

I felt the dampness of the towel and smelled him on it. It was a pleasant smell. Slowly, I walked to the bedroom door and knocked. He was almost too embarrassed to answer, but finally began apologizing. I knocked again and said that I had something he dropped. He came to the door, saw the towel and reached for it.

But, I wasn't giving it back just yet. I told him not to be embarrassed and that I'd seen naked men before. I also told him that I thought it was cute that he was so concerned about embarrassing me. And then I told him that I wasn't embarrassed and kind of enjoyed the view and I smiled at him. Then I whispered that he should tell me beforehand the next time he was going to put on a show and giggled as I turned away.

I sat in the living room and read while I waited for him to come out of the bedroom. It took him a long time before he ventured out. When he saw me sitting there he was beet red all over and I was still smiling. He started telling me that he'd never done anything like that before and that he was sorry and that he would be much more careful in the future.

Again, I smiled and repeated that I thought the view most interesting. This only deepened his blush, so I got up slowly and walked over to him. I had to reach up to take his face in my hands, but I did and then I stood on my toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He was so puzzled and funny, that I had to kiss him again. This time it was full on the lips and when I'd started I knew there was no going back.

This man was such a dear, gentle and polite man. He'd never been my dream, but he was so special to me that I think I loved him even then. As I pulled back, I noticed that his gaze was riveted on my cleavage and then realized that I hadn't worn a bra. It was my turn to blush, but he didn't even notice.

My breasts aren't huge, but they more than fill a 36C cup. The blouse I was wearing was shear, not see through, but sheer enough that my nipples stood at attention and could be seen. I grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the oversized sofa. When I had him seated, I crawled into his lap. I squirmed and wiggled my bottom a bit and felt his arousal under me. I think I might have had a slight climax right then, but I bent over and took his face in my hands again and gave him a really passionate kiss.

When he'd caught his breath, I looked down at my cleavage and smiled at him. I asked softly if he'd like to see more. His awkward smile told me everything I needed to know, and so I removed my blouse. He stared at my breasts and didn't move. Finally, I picked up one of his hands and placed it on one breast while I slowly massaged the other one myself.

He seemed to get the idea and copied my movements. Later I was to find out that he'd never touched a woman sexually before. Girls saw him as a friend, but never as dating material. I wiggled again and told him how glad I was that I pleased him. Again that blush turned me on.

I stood and removed my skirt and then the red panties beneath. His mouth was open and his eyes never left me. This time when I sat in his lap, I reached down and opened the front of his pants. He was too stunned to react. Slowly I reached in and pushed the briefs aside as I finally held him in my hands. He was even larger than I remembered, and thoroughly aroused, and yet just right for me.

I stood up, bent forward and kissed it and then I crawled on him and inserted his cock into me. I've never felt a man so alive and so eager and so wonderful. He knew only what stories he'd heard and read about sex. But, I didn't mind. He was mine to teach, and I started serious teaching right there. I showed him how and where to touch me as I rode him. I'd never climaxed like that, or as long as that, in my life.

Before long, I was feeling so good, but I still wanted more. I withdrew and stood on the sofa. My legs put my pussy at his face and I told him what I wanted and what he should do. It took a few minutes, but before long I was getting the best oral that I'd ever enjoyed. The man was starved, affectionate, obedient, interested, and a quick study.

Finally, I crawled up with my legs over his shoulders, sitting on them and facing him. I placed my hands on the back of his head and leaned back, and in, as I thrust my hips and ground my pussy into that Fu Manchu. I must have set a record, but his face was barely moist when he finished. He was smiling ear to ear and hugged me to him.

I crawled down and kissed him again and then I took that marvelous erection that still hadn't been satisfied between my lips and set about satisfying him. When he finally climaxed, it was the sweetest taste in the world, and I wouldn't have minded drowning in it. It seemed like he'd never climaxed before and saved it all for this day. As his climax drew to an end, I pulled back and watched as he finished. It was really a thrill watching and knowing what I had done for him.

Now, I pulled his hand and got him to come into the bedroom with me. Almost instantly, he wanted to show me what he'd learned. I gave him an 'A' for his first written examination and an 'A' for his first orals. 

I had an idea and asked him to stand at the edge of the bed while I got on all fours with my ass toward him. This time I reached under and felt him firm in my hand as I guided him in. As he began to thrust, I raised and lowered myself and felt his head massaging my g-spot. I began to rock as I developed a rhythm of raising and lowering myself to keep the maximum sensation. After a few moments, I felt myself beginning a long sensuous climax and as I finally peaked, I felt him stiffen and become more excited. He drove deep into me and hard against my pleasure spot. The effect was electric and instantaneous. Afterwards as I relaxed, I felt very happy and realized that I was feeling serene and would for a few hours more. Later that day, I fixed lunch and then dinner and brought them into the bedroom. We had our mouths full much of the time but then we had meals, too. 

We live together now and will be married soon. He'll never crush me, and I love going out in public with him. He's the most passionate and thoughtful lover and friend that I could ask for. As for his health, I've managed to work a few pounds off him, not too many, and I've increased his stamina a lot.



The Story of a Civil War Widow



This is a much longer story than I usually submit.

The story is fiction and involves incestual relationships. All characters involved in sex acts are eighteen or older.

I make no claims to the story being historically correct, although I did try to keep it so when possible. I did not, however, try to make the dialog correct for that period.

*

Jim marched off to war and never returned. He went to fight the rebels with one of his state regiments. Many of the young men from his area went. Few of them returned whole; most of them not at all.

The regiment was chewed up in a terrible battle. Jim's company was in the center of it. The unit was composed of men from his city and the surrounding farms.

Jim left a young widow, Margaret, and a young son, Jason. Margaret was within a month of her twenty-first birthday. Jason was two. He too would have a birthday soon. Margaret's father had died the year before. It was a terrible blow to her that she had lost her husband too.

There were many widows in that city after the battle. A generation of men from the area had been wiped out. Margaret, like many other women, persevered. With help from her mother ands, plus a widow's pension from the government, she was able to maintain a reasonably comfortable lifestyle. Both she and her husband had come from well-to-do, but not wealthy, families.

Hers owned the house she and Jim had lived in. It was right next to theirs and not far from the home of her parents. It was a little small, but sufficient for her and her son. Margaret's mother-in-law was a great help with Jason and the young boy developed a close bond with his 'Gramma'. Margaret too became close to her in-laws. Especially to her mother-in-law, Lydia.

Margaret's mother Beatrice was also supportive. She was very friendly with Lydia and Jason loved her as much as his other Gramma.

Margaret attended church regularly. Often with her mother, or her husband's parents. It was through the church that she met other war widows. Many of them with children. They soon started to meet at each other's homes and formed a tightknit, but informal group.

There were few men available for the widows to marry; if they were inclined to remarry. Most of the few men, of their age range, left in the town were those who had shirked their duty. Thus they were abhorrent to Margaret and almost all of the other ladies in the group.

Any woman who did marry one of these shirkers would be ostracized by almost all of the women in the town.

There were other men who had been unable to enlist because of physical defects. Often not more than a limp that precluded marching. There were more such defects in those days. These men were more acceptable to the widows and many of them found themselves with wives. Indeed the loss of so many of their fellow citizens opened up opportunities for them. They found themselves needed and many rose to the occasion. Veterans, too, were available for marriage. Although many of them had been wounded and often were missing limbs. Many of those not already married found spouses.

Margaret was not one of those who seriously contemplated remarriage. She had loved her husband and wanted to devote her life to raising their son.

A point we should make. Although Margaret should not be considered rich she was well-to-do. Many of the widows were from the poorer families of the area. These women often had to work to supplement their pension. Margaret was fortunate that she had sufficient income to provide for herself and Jason. She did not have enough money to hire a maid, except for an occasional cleaning woman for a day or two.

In the Victorian era women were not expected to feel lust. Even worse masturbation, by either gender, was considered degenerate. Male homosexual behavior was roundly condemned. At least in public. Lesbianism wasn't even considered. It was not even thought of as ever likely to happen. Again, at least in public. Some things were just not discussed.

Horniness in women was termed 'hysteria'. Doctors treated women experiencing such attacks by massaging their clitoris until they experienced a paroxysm, their term for an orgasm. The sexually inhibited women could not even think of taking care of this problem themselves.

Margaret had been brought up to be a proper lady. She had been reasonably content in her married life. She loved her husband and the birth of Jason had been a great joy for both of them.

Margaret believed that she had a duty to provide her husband with sex. She enjoyed it somewhat. At least she didn't hate it. Margaret liked to feel her husband's body next to hers. She would never have said so to anyone, but she enjoyed the feeling of fullness she experienced when he slid his cock into her pussy.

But Margaret had never experienced an orgasm.

Just after the war ended Jim's father died suddenly. It was a blow to Lydia and Margaret did her best to comfort her. Margaret's mother, Beatrice, also supported her. Beatrice and Lydia had always been friends, but they became closer after the death of Lydia's husband.

The informal association of widows continued. They met weekly at different women's homes. Attendance varied, sometimes as many as twenty women might be present; or as few as seven or eight. The women did develop bonds as people with similar problems tend to do. Once Jason started school Margaret was able to attend more often.

Their children, of course, were one of the main topics of conversation. After a couple of years their personal needs were sometimes alluded to, always in an indirect manner. Veiled hints were made of one's desire. Margaret never took part in such conversations, but she listened. She often felt empty after hearing such talk and would feel a wetness 'down there'. She never mentioned these reactions to anyone. Indeed she felt shame that she was so affected.

Margaret was starting to hear the occasional reference to hysteria treatments. She was well aware of what they were about. In fact Lydia suffered frequent spells of female hysteria, especially since the death of her husband. She often had to visit her doctor for relief. Beatrice, less often, suffered from hysteria too. Strangely it was accepted by society as a typical weakness of the fair sex.

It was after a rather large gathering of the widow's group that Margaret returned home to find a small dog-eared book in her reticule. It was titled Joy for Ladies. Margaret had no idea where it had come from, but obviously someone had slipped it into her bag. That wouldn't have been hard to do. The women usually left their bags on a table near the front door of whatever home they were visiting. Any one of the ladies present could have put it there.

As it happened it was one of the times that Margaret was feeling slight distress 'down there'. It was enough to get her to start reading. Both repulsed and fascinated Margaret found herself turning the pages and absorbing the books message. She had skimmed over the preface, read the first chapter and started the second when Jason got home from school. Margaret put the book away in her bedroom. She was undecided about reading it further.

The book was written, supposedly, by a woman. It started by discussing masturbation for women and the joy of paroxysm. Its central point, stated quite plainly, was that women deserved the pleasures of love. The author derided women who had their hysteria treated by doctors. She advocated the use of dildos and massage of the clitoris.

The book described dildos and alternates; cucumbers and darning eggs were mentioned as well as several other common household items, such things as hairbrush handles. One's own fingers inserted into the vagina were also recommended. She gave several examples of how to use some of the things mentioned. The point the author was making was that there was no limit to the number of things that might be used for self-pleasure.

Margaret felt herself blushing with embarrassment. To even read such a book was probably immoral. She put the book down, but she could not deny the empty feeling in her body, 'down there'.

Margaret had to get dinner for Jason. After the meal she and Jason visited his 'Gramma'. Lydia was a little out of sorts. Margaret recognized the symptoms. She knew that it wouldn't be long before Lydia would visit the doctor for a hysteria treatment. Margaret wondered to herself if she should get a treatment too; perhaps it would help to cope with that empty feeling. She kept silent, though. Since she had never experienced an orgasm she knew very little about paroxysm. She had only ever heard references to it. After all it was not a subject one discussed with others. Most of what she did know she had just read in the little book.

Margaret and Jason returned home at dusk. She and Jason read by lamplight for an hour, she was reading a novel, not the new little book. She sent Jason to bed earlier than usual.

With Jason safe in his bedroom she retrieved the book again. She felt a little shamed that she did not have the strength to resist its suggestive message. She reread the preface. There the author told of her own doubts and fears. How she too thought she was a wanton for even thinking such thoughts. She told how she had found that women were more than receptacles for their husband's seed. She described her encounters with other women who had learned differently and how they had taught each other how to enjoy the pleasure of their bodies. Her last line in the preface spoke volumes. Your husband, if you have one, need never know. It can be your secret.

Margaret skipped to the chapter about pleasing oneself. She read, again, about using a cucumber to fill the void in her lower body. She felt her nipples firming and a dampness at her female parts. There were cucumbers in the ice box. Her mind kept returning to them. She wasn't seeing a cucumber in her mind's eye. She wasn't seeing anything. She was feeling, feeling a hard member against the walls of her pussy.

Her female parts were no longer that in her mind. They had become, if the book was true, a place of pleasure. The cucumber an organ to fill her and bring her that pleasure.

Her thoughts troubled her. They went far beyond anything she had ever considered ladylike. They frightened her, and yet they took control of her. She went to the kitchen and took a cucumber from the icebox, then she took another a little bigger. With her cucumbers and book in hand she went to her bedroom.

She undressed quickly and put on a simple nightgown. She never wore fancy nightwear any more. Not since she had lost Jim. It was Jim who had made her feel pleasantly full in her pussy. (We'll call it that, and other names, for simplicity.)

She tweaked her nipples, to start, and fondled her breasts. The book had suggested it. She nestled the smaller cucumber between her breasts to warm it. The book had suggested that too. Her fingers played at her pussy. She felt the moisture on its lips. Without conscious thought she slipped a finger into herself and felt her clit. Her touch to that hard little nubbin caused more inhibitions to fall as her body became aroused. She slid the cucumber into herself with a satisfied sigh. It had been so long.

She lay still and savored the sensual feeling of a full pussy. Her finger idly rubbed her clit. Following the directions in the book she began to pump the prick-like cucumber into her pussy. She closed her eyes and felt Jim on top of her. She knew he was there, that he loved her wherever he was. She knew, too, that if she opened her eyes he would be gone.

She rubbed her clit with one hand while she used the other to fuck herself. The last of her inhibitions fell away and lust took over her body. She wanted to cry out her joy, but she could not. Jason slept in the next room.

She could feel the impending organism building. A strange sensation to her, almost frightening. It held back, there were barriers to break down. Margaret continued. She was experiencing things she had never felt before. She did not know she had never cum.

When the orgasm hit it tore through her body thrilling her every cell, overpowering her with its force, filling her mind and body with rapture. Her hands fell away from her pussy. She lay sated, savoring the first orgasm of her life. At the age of twenty-six she learned that there was pleasure in sex.

She slept well that night and left the cucumber in her pussy. She relished the feeling of it filling her. She woke relaxed and rested. She removed the, now limp, cucumber. She silently thanked the author of the book and whoever had slipped it into her reticule. She felt more alive than she had in years. She understood now why so many women, like Lydia, visited the doctor for hysteria treatments. What she did not understand, not after her experience the night before, was why they needed a doctor to bring them to paroxysm.

She got Jason off to school, and quickly finished her chores. She wanted to read more. She retrieved the book and the cucumbers from her bedroom. She threw away the used one, it had served its purpose. She would try the bigger one next time. She laughed then, happily. Obviously she had taken a big step, there would certainly be a next time. Many more times. Still in her dressing gown she sat down to read.

She reread the masturbation section first and picked up some tips she had missed. She wanted to know everything about it. She felt herself becoming aroused and went upstairs to her bedroom to masturbate again. It was another thrilling experience, but it did leave her clit a bit sore. She would have to bring some oil up to the room she thought.

She stayed in her room to read further. Next was a section on strap-ons, to be used by one woman to satisfy another. The book's author called them contrivances. That chapter led to several chapters about woman on woman sex. Not only would women use dildos on each other they would actually put their mouths on each other's private parts.

Margaret closed the book in disgust. How could any decent person even think of such things? She put the book away in her dresser. Even so, she masturbated once again that day. She had looked over the house searching for items that might serve as dildos. She found several, but in the end decided on the larger cucumber. Lying on the bed, clothed in a light shift, she warmed it between her breasts. She put a drop of oil on her clit and filled her pussy with the cucumber.

Once again her body sang with the ecstasy of orgasm. She felt totally relaxed afterward. Gone was any trace of shame for her acts. She was filled with delight at her new found pleasure.

When Jason got home from school Margaret was up and dressed. She would be careful that Jason didn't catch her at her new pastime. The next day was Saturday. Jason would be home all day. She would have to put off pleasing herself until bedtime.

Margaret with Jason in tow joined Lydia to go downtown for Saturday shopping. It wasn't far and they carried shopping baskets. They met several other women and chatted with them. In fact their shopping trips were partly social events.

Back home they stayed at Lydia's house for a cool drink. Lydia mentioned that she would be visiting the doctor the following week. She asked Margaret if she would go with her.

The following day, Sunday, Margaret dressed carefully. She made sure Jason was presentable too. Once again she joined Lydia and walked the short distance to the church. They met Beatrice there.

One would think that Margaret's conscience would be bothering her. No such thing. She spent the time at the services looking for other women from her widow's group. She wondered if any of them had been the one who had slipped the little book into her handbag. Or, if any of them had read it before her. It was obvious that it had passed through other hands before she got it. Maybe many other hands.

She prayed, too. Prayed that the lord would lead her onto the right path. That she would do what his will was for her. After all, she thought. You took my husband. What would you have me do now?

Margaret, Beatrice and Lydia spent the afternoon together preparing their Sunday dinner. Jason had been chased outside to play, after he had changed out of his good clothes.

Margaret was tempted to bring up her solution to hysteria to the older women, but decided not to just yet. Dinner went well and Margaret left after helping clean up. She was anxious to get home. Home to her pleasures.

Monday it was back to school for Jason. Margaret masturbated as soon as he was out the door and on his way. The thought of dildos, made for the purpose of satisfaction, were in her mind. As she was cumming a vision of a strap on popped into her mind. She longed for the feel of a body on hers as her pussy was filled. It was how her husband had felt when making love with her.

She was drawn back to the book, against her will she took it from the drawer where she had hidden it. Back to the chapter about strap ons. She read on, she couldn't help herself, about the joy a woman could feel while being fucked by another. The book didn't use the word fuck, nor did Margaret. She had never heard that word.

She couldn't bring herself to read the next chapter, the one about love between women. She skipped ahead to the ending of the book, the final chapter. It was there she found the note.





The Story of a Civil War Widow



Why had reading about two women being intimate aroused her so. She had heard veiled rumors of such behavior, but really only hints. She had never believed that such things would actually happen. Now she had to know. She would attend the widow's group the next day.

She had decided on her next step. The idea of making love with a woman, though, was still beyond her grasp. She did long for the feel of a body close to her, filling her, making her cum. That much she knew.

She dressed carefully the next day for the widow's get together. There were quite a few women there, about fifteen. She managed to say the code words, although she had almost been too frightened to. She didn't know which of the women were in on the secret, nor how many of them. She slipped the phrase into the conversation when the ladies were getting a bit suggestive with their conversation.

"Of course you do, Margaret," Her friend Mary replied with a smile. "We all miss our husbands, but there comes a time to move on even as we still hold them in our hearts."

Several of the other women nodded and voiced agreement. Mary was one of the women Margaret was friendliest with. They had grown up together and had been on good terms since childhood. Mary had a daughter about Jason's age. The children went to the same school. Margaret smiled to herself when she thought of that. Jason was of an age that he didn't see any use for girls.

As the group was breaking up Mary came up to Margaret. "I'm so glad you said that about your Jim," she said. "Why don't you visit me tomorrow? We'll have tea, lunch and a talk, just the two of us."

"I'd be happy to," Margaret replied.

"Come early," continued Mary. "That gives us time for a little private talk while our children are in school."

When Margaret picked up her handbag it felt a little heavier. She didn't look inside until she was home. The extra weight was from a ceramic dildo. Not shaped like a cock, but rounded to slide easily into a wet cunt. If found by her son its purpose would not be obvious. It was of a size that would stretch her pussy walls when she slid it inside herself.

"So it's Mary," Margaret whispered to herself. She wondered, not without anxiety, what would happen the next day and who else would be there.

Despite the apprehension she rushed upstairs to her bedroom. Her pussy was already wet when she fell onto her bed and lifted her skirts to shove the dildo into her eager cunt. 

Margaret bathed that evening. She usually bathed twice a week. Many women of her class bathed weekly, but she was one of those who were a bit more fastidious; especially since they had learned about germs and the necessity of cleanliness. She also washed with hot water and soap daily.

In her bed that night she masturbated again with her new dildo. She warmed it between her breasts before she thrust it into her excited pussy. Once again she felt there was someone on her body thrusting into her. Yes, she knew it was her own hand doing the thrusting, but the presence was comforting to her.

In the morning she got Jason off to school. She washed thoroughly and dressed in, what was generally called, a walking dress. Margaret was not excited about fashion and found bustles uncomfortable and a trifle ridiculous. Nonetheless the dress she chose had a bustle and lots of flounces. It was what she would be expected to wear for a visit to another woman's home.

She debated whether to wear drawers. Some women didn't. She decided she would. She had no idea what to expect, but she did think, especially since someone had given her a dildo, that there would be some kind of intimate play with them.

Margaret was surprised that she found herself willing to contemplate such activity. She wondered what had become of her modesty and, even more, her morality. Had she become a sinner? Were those other women sinners? Had she, perhaps, gone insane? Her sudden overwhelming desire to experience paroxysm might indicate that she had. But how would that explain the other women, even her mother and Lydia? She sat still for several minutes thinking about what was happening to her. But she had asked the almighty to guide her. She could only assume that it was his hand leading her. If she felt the need she could always refuse to indulge in any activity the lord told her was wrong.

She walked the quarter mile to Mary's house. Mary answered the door with a wide smile. She greeted her friend with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"I'm so glad you decided to come," Mary told her. "Sit down." She indicated the sofa.

There were no other women present. Margaret was relieved. She trusted Mary and was confident that her friend would not hurt her, or lead her into wrongful ways.

A teapot and cups were on the table in front of the sofa. Mary sat on the couch with Margaret and poured for both of them.

Both woman sipped at their tea before Mary spoke.

"I know you're wondering what this is all about, Margaret. I wondered too when I was in your position. I will explain and answer any questions you have."

"I will confess to more than a little curiosity," Margaret replied.

"First, there is a group of ladies who, like you and I, have lost their husbands to the war. A group that is part of, but separate from, the weekly widow's meetings. Many of the women in our circumstances are overpowered by the ensuing loneliness. Some of us have taken matters into our own hands. We have decided not to be docile and demure, although we may act that way to others.

"There are few men left in this city who we consider husband material, even if they were interested in a widow with children. And, there is the danger of pregnancy, something none of us can ignore.

"We thought you might benefit from joining us, or at least have knowledge of outlets for your stresses."

Mary looked at Margaret, waiting to see if she had anything to say.

"Thank you for thinking of me," Margaret said. "Was it you who put the book in my handbag. I brought it with me, by the way, in case you need it back."

"No, it wasn't me, but I approved of it. It was another lady, a friend, who gave it to you. She gave you the dildo too. We would like the book back when you are done with it. There are several other ladies who we feel may need it."

"How many ladies are in your group?" Margaret asked.

"I don't want to divulge that information just yet, Mary. You will know soon. After you have decided to join us."

"Have all the ladies who have read the book joined with you?"

"Almost all. Two did not join with us, but are sympathetic to us. They make use of what they learned. Much as you are doing at the present. We can tell, your face and demeanor show it.

"Before I go further, Margaret, I must caution you about secrecy. No one not part of our group can ever learn of us."

"I understand, Mary. I'll be careful."

"So you have decided to join us?"

Margaret laughed. "Not quite, Mary. I've decided I'm very interested. I have real doubts about some of what I read in the book. Things like women putting their mouths on other women's private parts."

"Yes," Mary replied. "That was a problem with many of us. While some of the ladies enjoy it many of us only want the closeness, the feeling of shared loving.

"We try to be understanding of all desires. We do not condemn any activity that brings joy to its participants. Nor do we try to force any activity on any of our members."

Mary paused again. "I think, for now, Margaret you are excited that you have found a new pleasure in your life. You've learned that paroxysm is a right that god gave women. We only need to take that right for ourselves.

"I think that what you miss is someone to share your joy. I know what you need, I have been there. Many other women have been there before us. We can learn from them."

"What do I need, Mary?" Margaret asked. Her tone was just a trifle playful.

"Come with me," Mary said. She stood and held a hand out to Margaret. "I promise you will not be disappointed."

Margaret stood, she trusted her friend and knew it would be as she said. She picked up her handbag and let Mary lead her upstairs to her bedroom.

"Let's get your dress off," Mary told her. "They only get in the way. Your corset too."

Mary opened the buttons on the front of Margaret's dress. Between them they let it fall to the floor and Margaret stepped out of it. Mary removed her own dress. It was a house gown and much simpler. She was not wearing a corset and her breasts sprang free. She was wearing drawers as Margaret was. She made no move to remove them. They were split and did not cover her private parts.

Margaret removed her corset and the shift she wore under it. Both women sat on the side of the bed to remove their shoes. Both women were wearing silk stockings. They covered the leg to just above the knee and were held up with garters. It was Margaret's only pair of silk hose. She seldom wore them, but she had that day.

Mary pulled open a drawer in the small table next to her bed. It contained a small collection of dildos, polished hardwood or ceramic; one was glass. She selected one and asked Margaret if she wanted one of them.

Margaret blushed. "I brought the one someone gave me." She got it from her reticule.

Mary rolled onto the bed and held up a hand to Margaret. Margaret lay beside her friend. Her nervousness was obvious, but she was determined to continue on the path she had set for herself.

She was astounded, not only that she found herself about to engage in a sexual exchange with another woman, but was actively participating. Her newfound desire for sexual pleasure, and the knowledge that it was achievable, gave her the impetus to participate in an activity that she would have seen as scandalous only days ago.

Mary pulled Margaret into a close embrace. There were no kisses, not yet. Mary fondled her friend's breasts and tweaked her nipple, rolling it between her fingers. She was delighted to hear a soft sigh from Margaret and to feel the nipple hardening. She took the dildo from Margaret's hand and rubbed it over the lips of Margaret's pussy. She felt it with her fingers to assure herself that Margaret was wet enough. She slid it into her friend's willing cunt and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. She grasped Margaret's hand and brought it to her clit, her hand stayed with Margaret's as she guided her. Guidance that Margaret accepted, although she didn't really need it. While Margaret was rubbing her clit Mary thrust the dildo in and out in her friend's pussy.

Mary lifted herself over Margaret's body to take a tit into her mouth. Margaret thrilled to the feel of her friend's closeness held her there with her free arm. The excitement of the dildo, the masturbation, her tit being sucked by Mary brought Margaret quickly to an orgasm. Her nervousness evaporated with the thrills rushing through her body. Mary didn't stop. She brought Margaret to yet another orgasm. The first time that Margaret had ever enjoyed such consecutive thrills.

Margaret's hand fell from her clit. She feebly pushed Mary's hand away. She was replete. She rolled to face Mary and threw her arms around her. She hugged her friend with gratitude.

"That was wonderful, Mary, Thank you."

"It's only the beginning, Margaret," Mary replied. "There is so much still to come."

"Let me do you," Margaret told her.

"I'd like that," Mary replied. 

She gave Margaret the wooden dildo she had taken from her drawer. Margaret noticed that it was larger than her own. Mary didn't wait, her hand was at her clit rubbing it when Margaret pushed the dildo into her.

It was another first for Margaret when she took Mary's nipple into her mouth. Another experience she would have been shocked by only days ago.

Mary came as soon as she felt Margaret's lips on her tit. Things were going as well as she'd hoped. She looked forward to the rest of the day and many future days.

They rested after Mary was satisfied. Their bodies touching as they told each other how excited they were. Margaret questioned Mary about other ladies that she had similar experiences with. Mary, however would not tell her any names, or even how many there might be. She would admit that there was a sizable group. She cautioned Margaret, again, that secrecy was of utmost importance.

The women got up and put on dressing gowns to have a bite to eat. After lunch they returned to the bedroom, both of them anxious for more. Mary took her contrivance from the closet. She showed it to Margaret and asked if she would like to try it.

"Yes," Margaret licked her lip. "I think I would."

The contrivance was made of soft leather with a velvet lining for comfort. A wooden dildo projected from the front. Margaret laid on the bed and watched Mary put it on. She was excited, a feeling of anticipation took control of her body. Her pussy was wet with an empty feeling.

Mary climbed onto the bed and knelt between Margaret's spread legs. She brought the dildo to Margaret's pussy and rubbed it against her clit a few times. Margaret lifted her hips to her friend. She was ready. She wanted it. Mary slid the wooden shaft into her and leaned down over her.

Mary thrust the dildo into Margaret's eager pussy, fucking her; woman on woman. She nibbled at Margaret's tit as she pumped the wooden cock into her.

Margaret lifted her arms to Mary. She drew her down to lie on her body, to feel her womanly flesh against her own. To exult in the feeling of fullness in her cunt and the welcome weight of a body on hers.

Their tits pressed against each other's, hard nipple against hard nipple. She felt an orgasm ripping through her. Her legs clasped over Mary's back holding her close. With gasps and soft cries Margaret came for her friend. 

Once again they lay close together, relaxing. Margaret offered to don the strap on, but Mary said she wanted to try something else. She took Margaret's dildo and turned so that she was facing Margaret in what we would call a sixty-nine position.

She pushed the dildo into Margaret's pussy. Margaret, following her lead, did the same for Mary. Each woman massaged her own clit while the other plied a dildo in their wet pussies. Margaret sensed the aroma of a pussy close up. She was not repelled. Rather she found the scent of another woman somewhat alluring, especially considering the state of heat both women were in. Both were soon cumming with ecstatic cries.

It was at the height of an orgasm that Margaret felt Mary push her hand away from her clit and Mary's tongue take its place. She only came harder as Margaret pulled the dildo from her pussy and let her lips and tongue send waves of pleasure through Margaret's body.

Margaret might have been repulsed if it had been anyone but Mary; or maybe not. She was finding that she was, in reality, a very sexual woman. A trait she had kept hidden, even from herself, in keeping with the mores of the time. She had already accepted, and enjoyed, dildo play with another woman. She had exulted at the feel of a woman's body on her as she was fucked with a strap on. This was a natural next step.

Without thought, but with a feeling of inevitability Margaret followed Mary's lead. She pushed her face into Mary's hot, wet cunt. She sucked her clit. She drank her sweet juices. She screamed, muffled by her friend's pussy, in ecstasy. She had found herself.

Their faces remained buried in each other's cunts. Licking and sucking, drinking the essences of feminine lust. Rolling over each other. Margaret on top, Mary on top, on their sides. Mary quit first, she was about to faint from the continuous thrill. Margaret lifted her head from Mary's sweet pussy when she felt the other woman stop.

They looked at each other, their faces smeared with each other's nectar, and smiled. A kiss followed, their first. A wet, open mouthed kiss with tongues dancing. They licked their juices from each other's face and told each other how exciting the experience had been.

It was soon time to dress. Mary's daughter would be home from school soon. Jason would be home soon too, but he would go to his gramma's house. They were having tea together when Mary's daughter, Becky, came home. Margaret had mentioned that Lydia was visiting the doctor the following day for a treatment. Both agreed that it was a waste of money to have the doctor perform a procedure that could so easily, and probably with more pleasure, be done by oneself.

Margaret left soon after. She collected Jason at Lydia's house and assured her mother that she would accompany her to the doctor the following day. Lydia offered to fix them dinner, but Margaret declined. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts and her feelings of fulfilment.

She put Jason to bed a little early. In her own bed she let her thoughts roam. Was her behavior wanton? Had she sinned? Why had she such feelings of contentment and serenity? She had asked the lord to lead her in his chosen direction. Surely today must have been his doing. With a smile and a feeling of gratitude Margaret thanked God for his gift. Of one thing she was sure. There was no going back.

Chapter 2

The following day Margaret escorted Lydia to the doctor's office for her mother's hysteria treatment. After the treatment they waited while Lydia recovered a bit before walking home.

Lydia felt very relaxed. She told Margaret of her delight that the doctor was so proficient at bringing her to paroxysm. She went so far as to recommend that Margaret visit the same physician.

Then she added. "If you should ever need relief from hysteria, that is."

Margaret held her tongue, at least for the moment. Her thoughts, though, were about her mother and Lydia and their hysteria treatments. She thought she would look for an opportunity to talk to one, or both, of them. To let them know that other treatments were available.

The Sunday after her tryst with Mary she attended church as usual. She sat with her mother and Lydia with Jason sitting between his two grandmothers. Margaret exchanged a smile with Mary. They met after the service.

"Tomorrow some of us are getting together," Mary told her. "You are invited if you wish to join us. The other ladies are anxious to welcome you to our little society."

"I'd be happy to attend," Margaret replied. 

Indeed I will be, she thought as a thrill ran up her spine.

Sunday afternoon was spent at her mother's, Lydia was there too. They worked together to cook dinner while Jason was out playing with friends. Beatrice mentioned that Margaret was looking exceptionally well. Lydia agreed with her.

"I must be doing something right," Margaret said with a secret smile.

Back home after dinner Margaret put Jason to bed and retired to her own bedroom. She used her dildo, as she did every night now, and let fantasies about the next day roll through her mind.

In the morning, after Jason had left, she dressed. She did not wear a corset nor drawers. They had only been a hindrance during her visit with Mary. She packed her dildo and the book in her reticule. Mary had asked her to return the book, they had another young widow in mind to pass it on to.

Margaret walked to Mary's house. The two then went together to another friend's place, Elizabeth. Usually they called her Beth. Beth was a few years older than Margaret. They had become friendly through the widow's group. 

On the way Mary told Margaret that she could 'play' with any of the ladies that was interested. 

"They'll all be interested in you, Margaret. You're new and fresh. You'll be able to pick and choose. These sessions frequently become quite boisterous. Don't be shy. We often make big circles and pleasure each other. One thing we are careful about is that we don't form couples; only for short periods. Strong attachments within the group will lead to jealousy and fragment the group. But, some of us visit each other for private enjoyments. Those times are not carried over into our little sessions of joy."




The Story of a Civil War Widow



Beth was a very pretty woman. She had many suitors as a young woman before she had settled on her husband. They had married when she was seventeen and had their son a year later. A daughter followed a year after that. Her husband had been badly wounded in the battle that killed Margaret's husband. He died a few days later.

There were three other women present. Mary said there were more in the circle, as they called themselves, but Beth's house was too small for a much larger group. All three were well known to Margaret. She was a little surprised at two of them; but then, who would have thought she would be joining them.

The other women were Brenda, Sarah and Melanie. They all greeted her with enthusiasm. Beth served tea. Margaret noted Mary and Sarah were close together on the couch their arms around each other. Everyone was still dressed, but that would soon change.

It changed almost as soon as Margaret took a sip of tea. Melanie acted first. She opened the buttons on the bodice of her dress and let it slide from her shoulders to the floor. The other women followed quickly, Margaret with a little shyness at first that quickly became anticipation. The women stripped to shifts. A couple were wearing drawers.

Mary and Sarah, holding hands left for another room. Beth went to a closet and pulled several thick quilts out. Working together the women spread them on the floor, doubling them up to make a soft area to lie on. The quilts were covered by sheets to protect them. Beth got a box from the closet that contained dildos and strap ons. Seeing that Margaret got her own toy from her hand bag. The other ladies all had their own dildos too. The four remaining women all moved to the quilts. Margaret was a little hesitant. It was not a case of shyness, but the fact that everything was new to her.

Beth was hostess so she was able to choose Margaret for a partner. Margaret had no objections. She liked Beth and thought her to be quite pretty. Beth took her hand and led her to join the others. On the mat she kissed Margaret with open mouth. Margaret responded with enthusiasm. She could feel herself getting wet. 

Brenda and Melanie followed with similar kisses. Margaret responded to both. All of the women snuggled together and pushed dildos into their eager pussies. The air in the room was soon redolent with the amorous fragrance of hot women, their juices and their pheromones. The scents drove Margaret to new lust, she was finding herself aroused far more than she had ever been.

Beth and Melanie donned strap ons. Beth returned to Margaret and Melanie to Brenda. Margaret held her arms up to Beth, she was ready. She sighed as the dildo slid into her hot and eager cunt. Her hips lifted to meet Beth's thrusts and her legs clasped over the back of the other woman. They exchanged wet, mindless kisses. They sucked at each other's tits. 

She was cumming quickly, with wild gasps as orgasms sang in every cell of her body. Thrills tore through her, and yet again.

They changed places. Margaret donned the belt and mounted Beth to fuck her to a series of glorious orgasms. Their entire being was centered on themselves. Their kisses and their hot cunts. The outside world didn't matter. Even the two women fucking next to them were only dimly perceived.

When Beth was satisfied she pushed gently against Margaret's shoulder to let her know. The two women collapsed together on the quilt breathing hard. Melanie and Brenda, next to them, had finished a few minutes before they did. All laid together and embraced.

Mary and Sarah returned. They were dressed only in shifts now, like the other women. They looked slightly disheveled, especially their hair. After Margaret's session with Mary the week before she had no doubts about what had gone on between them. She felt a slight tinge of jealousy, but it passed quickly. She was too excited by what was happening to her to let such feeling linger.

Melanie sat next to Margaret on a couch. They had been friends since they had joined the other widows from the war. Melanie was a couple of years older than Margaret. She was quite tall and had an imposing bosom. Her face, however, was far from pretty. She was often referred to as 'horse faced'. She and Margaret got along well; they had several common interests and attended the same church. Melanie had a son and daughter both older than Jason. Their husbands had been acquainted with each other, but not friends, before joining the regiment. In the army they had gotten to know each other better. They both died in the battle.

"I'd like to visit you some day, Margaret," Melanie said. She was speaking softly.

"Anytime, Melanie,"

"Margaret, I want to become closer to you. I'm very attracted to you."

Margaret felt a warmth in her pussy. The idea both excited and repulsed her. Then she remembered her session with Mary.

Melanie continued. "I'd like to be alone and in private with you."

Margaret thought for a moment. "I think that would be possible, Melanie, we are friends after all. But it will have to be some time in the future. I have a few things that I need to do. They will require all my attention."

"Let's leave things at that, for now," Melanie said. She squeezed Margaret's hand and left her to go sit next to Sarah.

After lunch all the ladies got together for a grand finale, as they called it. In a circle on the floor they ate each other's hot pussies changing positions often. It was time to leave after that. Dressing took some time and they had to help straighten Beth's house up before the children got home from school.

Margaret and Mary walked home together.

"It was a lovely day," Margaret told her friend. "I never realized how much I was missing."

"None of us did," Mary replied. "Not until someone taught us."

"I wish I could tell my mother and Jim's mother about it. They have been going to the doctor for hysteria treatments when they could be taking care of things themselves." Margaret laughed as a thought came into her mind. "Or each other."

Mary laughed with her. "Why not suggest it to them?"

"Maybe, I could try to talk to Mother. She might not want to discuss it though."

"Maybe we can help." Mary told her. "I have a pamphlet you could give them. It describes the process of self-fulfillment. It tells women of the money they are wasting by paying a doctor to bring them to bring them to paroxysm. It also tells about how unhealthy, and unsanitary the practice is. It doesn't go into what we are doing, but it hints at the fact that there is more."

"Thank you, I'm sure it will help."

Margaret broached another subject. "Melanie asked if she could visit me. What do you think?"

"You'll enjoy it. Melanie has realized that she is attracted to women and men equally. With men unavailable she is happy to love women. She gets pleasure with ladies; pleasing them and being pleased. Although, she told me once that bringing another woman to climax is, by far, her greatest enjoyment." Mary paused. "She and I have had several trysts. I suppose I could be jealous, but I'm not. I like Melanie and I know she likes variety. I look on my times with her as pleasant interludes."

"Thank you, Mary."

At Mary's house they had a cup of tea and chatted some more, mostly about their children. Mary got the pamphlet for Margaret to give to her mother. As Margaret was getting ready to leave Mary had a thought.

"Why don't you take the contrivance, too? You never know, it might be what she needs. What you both need. In fact take her the book that got you started, we haven't passed it on yet, you can have it back for a few days."

Mary ran upstairs to get the book and strap on. She added a couple of dildos. She put everything in a fabric bag and gave them to Margaret.

Thank you, Mary," Margaret accepted the bag from her friend. "I think I need to get a contrivance of my own soon."

"I'll introduce you to the lady you need to know," Mary told her. "She makes trips to Chicago to get things like that. She usually has some in stock."

"I hope you can convince your mother," Mary said as Margaret got ready to leave.

"I do too," Margaret replied. "But I'm a little nervous about it."

At home Margaret had some time to think about all that had happened to her. Her fear of becoming a wanton woman was leaving her. She felt instead a sense of gratification. A feeling that she was taking control of her own life. It was a trait that her mother often displayed, this sense of being one's own woman, free of dependence on another. It was a quality that had become more obvious in Beatrice since being widowed.

Margaret considered talking to Lydia first, but her mother was the stronger woman. If Beatrice could be converted Lydia would probably follow. Margaret smiled at her use of the term converted. It's how I feel, she thought. a little like a zealot. I want to show other women what I've found. Certain women, at least.

Jason came home from school. She told him to get cleaned up, they were going to visit his grandmother.

*******

At Beatrice's house the women shooed Jason outside while they prepared a light supper. Margaret didn't feel like beating around the bush and soon broached the subject that was on her mind.

"Mother," she asked. "Do you still go to the doctor for treatments for hysteria?"

Margaret knew the answer. She was well aware that her mother had accompanied Lydia a few weeks before. She didn't wait for an answer.

"I think you are wasting your money and possibly subjecting yourself to ridicule."

"I'm not sure I want to discuss this subject, Margaret." Was her mother's somewhat flustered reply.

"Mother, you need to talk about it. I know you need to achieve paroxysm more often than you do. I know, too, that you would be visiting the doctor more often if you could afford it."

Beatrice was blushing from embarrassment. This was not a subject polite people discussed; not even mother and daughter.

"Margaret, I repeat. I do not wish to discuss the subject,"

Margaret put her hand on her mother's. "I understand, Mother. I love you, that's why I am bringing this up."

"I love you too, Margaret. You've been all I could ask for in a daughter. But I can't bring myself to talk about this."

"Mother, I'll leave something for you to read under your pillow. Please do read it. If you don't say anything after you do I'll never mention it again. If you read it and want to know more I can help. 

"Mother," she continued. "Why do you think I don't visit that charlatan who calls himself a doctor?"

Jason came in from play and the conversation had to end. Beatrice took the opportunity to change the subject and made sure he washed his hands. She was subdued and did not say much during supper.

After dinner Margaret borrowed pen and paper from her mother and wrote her a note. Beatrice watched her write, but did not ask what it was about. 



The Story of a Skirt



Memories are interesting things. It is often the smallest thing that grabs my attention and brings me back. This time, it was pulling a skirt out of my closet. I recently had a baby, and am enjoying being able to wear clothes that I haven't in almost a year. I was getting dressed for work, and grabbed my black a-line skirt off a hanger. It hit me almost immediately the last time I wore this skirt. The last day working at my last job. The job itself doesn't hold that many great memories, but, that last day, that last afternoon sure as hell does. I'm not exactly sure why after working together for years, the last two weeks that I was employed there pushed forward flirtations that had been going on for years. Maybe he has an answer, I don't. I had worked for him as a secretary of sorts for years. Taking care of him wasn't my only responsibility, but, it was by far my favorite. I liked that he relied on me, and that he appreciated me. 

Like I said, we'd flirted for years. We are both married, so I had long ago chalked the flirtations up to a stress relief at the office, and never really thought anything would ever come of them. Something about me putting in my 2 week notice changed that. Almost immediately, we found excuses to touch, just a minute here or there, because it would have been definitely frowned upon by our boss, and, like I said, we both had spouses at home that didn't need to know.

I can't tell you his side of the story, as I've never really asked. But I was attracted to him almost from the first time I met him. He's 15 years my senior, and according to him, he'd started going grey in high school. Now a few years past 40, he has a presence that had my heart beating faster every time he looked at me with heat in his eyes. He's nearly a foot taller than I am, I'm not sure why, but that always made me feel safe. I could go on and on about times that I'm sure he didn't even realize it, but he'd made my pulse quicken, my breath catch, and made me wet, but that's not this story. 

That last day, it almost seemed anti-climactic – you'd have never known it was my last day from the way everyone around the office was behaving. It is a small office, and I know some were glad to see me go, and others just glad for the entertainment that my leaving brought. Our boss left early that day, with barely a "Good-bye". That was ok with me. I wouldn't miss our boss or the rest of the office, just him. That day, the entire office staff was gone by 4, save for the two of us. I will admit to being shy, never the instigator, fearful of rejection I suppose, but after the last car pulled from the drive, I walked into his office, closed his blinds, and kissed him. I can't begin to tell you how energized I was, just from a kiss. He suggested we move to my old office, as it was a little less in the main flow of traffic, just in case someone decided to come back in the office.

He accused me that day of wearing skirts so often for easy access. He was right. I loved that it was so easy for him to touch me. And he did, touch me. I will again admit to some naiveté, even after being married for 8 years, and I was more than happy to be led and controlled by someone who definitely knew what he was doing. Just being held by him brought my body alive in ways I'm not sure it ever had been. I was scared at that point of disappointing him. We'd touched, kissed, played a little here and there before, but, I knew without a doubt, I wanted him to fuck me before I left that day. 

Almost immediately, he'd made excellent use of my freshly cleaned off desk, and had me bent over it, rubbing my clit with his dick and making me crazy. He teased me. He wouldn't enter me. I remember thinking, GOD, would you just give it to me? He did, finally, and I can't give you details, as I don't make a habit of carrying around a measuring device to take measurements, but I can honestly say, I've never been filled so fully or so well, as I was with his dick inside me. The sensations were amazing, the cool desk against my cheek, his hands on me, keeping me on the brink of an orgasm, and him pounding his dick into me. I know I'd cum at least a couple times, I laughed and told him I had a hair trigger, but that was a lie, I really don't, at least, not usually. It usually takes a great deal of work and concentration on my part to cum at all, much less repeat performances. 

Suddenly, he stopped, pulled out, and leaned back against the wall. I can't honestly tell you why he did, but I saw it as an opportunity I had to take advantage of. I have a small mouth, and blow jobs have never been any fun at all for me. I gag so easily, but I couldn't NOT try it. I had to. I was compelled to. I dropped to my knees and did the best I could. Tasting myself on him was an even bigger turn on. I couldn't even begin to put his entire dick in my mouth, but I tried. I loved the feel, the smooth skin, the size, it was all more than I could take. 

He pulled me gently back up to my feet, and sat me on the desk. The sense of control that he had over me, by pure size and strength is perhaps the biggest turn on of all. I liked being controlled, handled, enjoyed.

In my less than varied experience, I'd never been with a man who could last as long as he already had. I'd certainly never been with a man who was so interested in my pleasure. Who saw it as a challenge to make me cum time and time again. He succeeded, and often at that. I had expected him to be through, and ready to go home by that point. I couldn't have been more wrong. He continued to kiss me senseless. The only think I could manage to do was to wrap my fingers in his hair and hold on. 

He flipped me back over onto the desk, again, my cheek pressed against the cool surface, and I felt him entering me again from behind. His fingers wrapped around one arm, holding me where he wanted me, and the other hand was busy playing with my clit and bringing me again and again to an ecstasy I'd never even imagined. Finally, he tried to pull out, telling me that he was indeed ready to cum himself. He was worried about me, and whether I wanted him to cum inside me. I begged him. PLEADED with him. That was exactly where I wanted him. Deep inside me, I wanted to feel every pulse, every shot through my sensitive pussy muscles. He was worried about leaving a mess that I'd have to drive home to my husband with, I was beyond worry or thought. I only wanted him inside of me as he came. He relented, and let me have my way. The forcefulness of the cum shooting inside of me, the pulsing of his cock as my muscles milked him, the fullness I felt – they all combined, and had me living the longest orgasm of my life to that point. I felt like I was falling from the stars. 

He helped me clean up, ever the gentleman, and kissed me again before I had to leave. It was an afternoon I'll never forget. One burned in my memories so deep, just the thought of that day has me wet again.

Back to pulling this skirt out of my closet – I had put it away and hadn't worn it since that day last October. As I pull it out and put it on, I notice a substantial stain on the back, it seems that we'd left a mess I hadn't realize we had. I quickly threw it in the laundry to be washed and chose another skirt, but just noticing that stain had my thoughts wandering all day. Had my pulse elevated, had me wet and ready. Too bad we don't really see each other anymore. I guess it was fun while it lasted, and we did take the opportunities presented to us to meet and fuck ourselves silly, but that's another story or two. He haunts my dreams, even though it has been eight months since the last time we were together. I guess my growing pregnant belly probably put a halt to our excursions, and after a while, I guess we just moved on. I really don't know. Maybe he has an answer to that as well.

I suppose it is a common office fantasy to be spread across one's desk and fucked senseless, I'm just amazed I got to live it.. I visit that office on occasion, and every time I see my old desk, my body is ready to pick right back up where we left off. My blood pumps, my breathing picks up, and my juices flow. I always wonder if anyone else notices, and if they do, what they think is wrong with me. 

*

Thanks for reading, I hope it was enjoyable. I welcome feedback.



The Story of A



"So he had me masturbate him using the heels of the shoes. I did it, but it was really mortifying. And yet I seemed to be getting hornier and hornier. In fact, I was pressing the toe of one shoe into his balls when I came for the first time. It was the power he'd given me you see. It was exhilarating, and it brought me off as if I just been laid, really laid.

"Then he put my sandaled feet on his shoulders, mounted me, forcefully entered me and fucked me repeatedly. I fell asleep from exhaustion. By midnight, I felt him licking my high heels. He continued to lick my shoes and feet and caressed my buttocks. He asked me if I was awake. I told him I was. He had me turn onto my stomach, spread my buttocks and kissed my anus. I told him I liked it and he tongued me there. I started to move but he grabbed my buttocks and thrust his tongue into my ass and I started to shake with pleasure." 

"His next words were, 'Almost ready.' He sent his tongue in deeper, using his fingers to open me up first. I had to admit it was a wonderful feeling and I wondered if all brides had this experience on their wedding nights. After he finished licking me he began lubricating my anus with castor oil and used his fingers to open me wider. The next thing I knew he had penetrated me. I tried to pull away, but he held me there hurting me both by the way he held me and from his deep penetration. 

"He came inside me and I thought he was done with me. But no, the man was an animal. He was still hard and after checking his penis for flecks of shit – his words, not mine, he reentered me and fucked me again. I have to tell you this second time was long and painful. But I will admit the subsequent ass fuckings I underwent during the remainder of the honeymoon were inconsequential because of that second fuck.

"We had frequent and vigorous sex the next several days. He insisted I wear the skimpiest bikinis at the beach and pool, even trying to get me to go topless, but I refused. I was embarrassed several times when couples sitting close to us were able to see some of my pubic hairs sticking out of the skimpy bottoms I wore. He thought it funny. 

'Maybe they'll want to join us in our bed,' he said.

"In the bedroom, he continued to lick or suck the heels of my shoes as we were intimate. He told me he had sex with both guys and girls and asked me if I had intercourse with anyone else before him. When I told him he had been my first and only lover, he asked if I wanted to try it with a woman. 

"I replied as coolly as possible under the circumstances, 'No, dear, I haven't.' He stunned me by telling me his sister was available when we returned home. 'I'd like to see you and her together, it would be quite a turn on.'

"Addie, please," I said, "you needn't go any further." My erection was killing me. She had to have noticed it, but apparently was so intent on telling me her story that she paid scant attention to it.

"Yes, I must. You see when we returned from the honeymoon he had his sister over that first night. They got me half-drunk and I relented and kissed her. Before I knew what was happening she was fondling my breasts and he was licking her ass. I admit I enjoyed her kisses. They were sweet and torrid, and when her hand got between my legs I caved in. She had my dress up and was tonguing me to a tremendous orgasm while my husband fucked her up the ass.

I was compelled to return the favor and went down on her a little later, only to find that he'd revived and mounted me while I was doing her. My ass was used to him by then and I thought nothing of it. I'm ashamed to admit it to you, but I enjoy anal intercourse almost as much as I do vaginal."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Later that night, his sister took my high heeled shoes and stepped on his penis, swatted his balls with them and finally stuck the heels of both shoes up his ass, causing him to ejaculate.

"The following days found his sister dropping in on us with a frequency I came to look forward to. She introduced me to what's called a strap-on. Do you know what that is?"

I nodded, indicating that I did know what it was.

"She wanted to know which hole I wanted it in. I told her I'd take it up my ass.

"And then, suddenly, I was pregnant. He stopped having sex with me, turning to her. To her credit, she paid attention to me although she foreswore the strap-on, sticking to licking me everywhere imaginable.

"I'm quite the slut, Orin, really I am."

"You're no such thing," I said with a passion I hadn't wanted to reveal to her. I wanted to hold her; to comfort her, and possibly more, but the spell was broken and I prepared to leave.

I told her I'd stay in touch with her and that I wanted to buy her baby a wonderful present.

*****

Addie surprised me by calling me the following month. "Orin... I'm in such a state. I'm a week overdue and they're going to take me in and induce it tomorrow... I don't want them to... I don't know what to do."

I said I'd be right over. I didn't think to ask where her husband was, although I knew he traveled quite often. 

I didn't rush over as promised, but jumped on the computer and googled pregnancies and birthing a child. I was anxious to help her however that might be. And I found something that intrigued me beyond my wildest expectations.

I reread the material and raced over to Addie's home. Addie opened the door looking helpless and forlorn. All she wore was a white sundress, through which her enormous belly and white panties were easily visible. She wasn't wearing a bra and for the second time I caught a glimpse of her marvelous nipples, only this time they were huge dark circles. I thought she looked sexier than ever.

"Thanks for coming over, Orin. He's on a business trip. His sister will be here later." She paused and looked into my eyes. "I'll tell you the truth; she only comes over to drink my milk."

"My God, Addie, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"What am I to do? I don't want to be induced..."

Addie, I... I've been reading up on delivery methods. I mean... If you're agreeable, we could...."

"What, Orin? You said if I'm agreeable we could what?"

"I've read about a way to start your labor. It doesn't always work but...."

"But nothing, what have I got to lose?"

"Alright, I'll tell you. You may think I'm crazy, or worse, but it involves semen. It appears to help with hastening the birth process." 

Her jaw dropped, "Really, semen?"

"Lots and lots of semen," I said, empathizing the word, 'lots.' It has certain properties that dilate the cervix and help to start off labor. The drugs they use to induce you are similar. So you have to get as much semen into contact with the cervix as possible." 

I felt faintly ridiculous telling her this like some TV doctor, and it was giving me an erection. But she was hanging on to my every word.

"Um, orgasms help too. They cause the uterus to contract. But you must know that." She nodded as she digested what I'd said.

"That's all well and good, Orin, but he's on a trip, won't be home for two or three days. Besides, he won't come near me in the shape I'm in."

I hugged her tightly, unable to think of anything productive to offer. I realized that my erection was pressing firmly against her hip, but she didn't seem to have noticed.

"Oh my poor darling," I said into her ear, "You must be so stressed out."

"I've been climbing walls. You wouldn't believe..." she hugged me even tighter, her body hot through my thin shirt. 

Suddenly I felt a light touch on the bulge that filled my slacks.

"Does... does the semen... have to be the husband's?"

"No... it can be anyone's."

"Are you suggesting that in my condition I submit to a lineup of different men – what's it called, a gangbang?"

"No! No! But it can be someone who has loved you for so long with no hope of ever really knowing you. It would have to be someone who would give himself unstintingly, over and over and over in order to help you induce birth."

"Oh, Orin!" she cried out and threw her arms around me then smothered my face with kisses. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

We were still kissing when her hand found my erection and fumbled it out of my trousers. 

"Tell me it isn't wrong, Orin."

"It isn't wrong, Addie. I love you and I want to help you. You know I've wanted you ever since I met you. I've fantasized about you so many times. And after you went into such detail about what went on during and after the honeymoon, I want you more than ever. Your problem has provided me with the way to make my dreams come true while helping you to induce labor. It's a win-win situation, Addie, don't you see?"

"I... I don't know, Orin. I mean, I think about you too. I always have."

As she spoke I began massaging her back then moved to her firm behind.

"Oh, Orin!" She gasped, but didn't push me away, instead her hands rested on my chest, and then almost coyly began opening my shirt a button at a time.

I kissed her and felt her respond. 

"Addie, let's just do it... for the baby's sake."

"Mmmm," she moaned and I wasted no more precious time in coaxing her into submitting, but maneuvered the thin dress over her head without any resistance on her part.

I had some difficulty in divesting her of her underwear, fearing that I might hurt her or the baby. Finally, Addie assisted me and then I had my first glimpse of her magnificence. Her belly was huge and taut, her breasts full, her enormous dark nipples stiffened into strawberry shaped cones. I tripped over my own feet as I hastily stripped my own clothing, tossing it over my shoulder and not caring where it landed. Later I had a devil of a time locating a sock and a shoe, but at that moment all I could think about was producing enough sperm to do the job I'd come there for.

"You have a nice one," Addie said of my cock. "I love the way it curves." She wet her lips. "I bet the ladies like you very much, Orin." 

"I don't know about that," I said.

"Isabel couldn't stop talking about how you made her feel."

"Did she now?"

"Oh, yes, she told me you had her coming right away and that you did it twice in a row without resting."

"Isabel talks too much."

"Is that why you didn't call her after?"

"No, I wanted you, not her. She's nice enough, but... time to get on with it, Addie, it might be best if you got on all fours."

"Yes, that way you can get it all in."

She arranged herself on the settee, her knees on the edge, her belly supported on a cushion, her head pillowed on her arms. Her ass thrust gloriously into the air in front of me, her thighs making a triangle, her lovely wavy labia swollen, but open in front of me, revealing her deep pink glistening tunnel. Her anus was a pale brown star. It was so erotic that I nearly spurted my load over her ass and back - but that would have defeated the object.

Addie giggled. "This is scary, are you sure about the sperm?"

"That's what the computer says."

"I can't believe we're doing this,' she said and giggled again.

"Well, I can't either, Addie. It's a dream come true."

"Oh, you," she giggled while fondling my testicles. "I can see they are heavy. Maybe you do have enough in them to do the job."

"We'll see," I said and kissed her neck and stroked her satiny folds, inserting a finger and then adding another soon after. Addie moaned softly. "Oh, put it in me! I feel so horny now!"

I entered her and almost lost it at the feel of her hot membranes sliding along my shaft. I held her hips as I bottomed out in her, my balls resting against her mons.

"Are you sure it won't hurt the baby?" she asked breathlessly.

"If I were on top it might, but we're not putting any undue weight on him."

"Oh God, Addie, you have such a wonderful cunt!"

"And you're cock is wonderful too, Orin!"

I lost myself in the pleasure of our fuck about then, hearing only the occasional grunt as I penetrated as far as I dared. 

I came quickly, but did not pull out. She clasped herself around me as she felt the first splash hit her cunt walls; she shuddered and I think came just after I did.

"Are you comfortable, Addie?"

"Yes, are you?"

"I'm fine," I told her and resumed pumping.

"You're not going to rest?"

"No, I'm still quite hard. Can you use your vaginal muscles to squeeze or clamp down on me? It would help with my next ejaculation."

"I... I'll try."

She did more than try. She kept me hard by clamping down on me and I continued thrusting away until I managed to spew a second load into her.

Then with no hesitation at all I turned her over and went down on her. She lay on her back, her eyes smoky, and spread her thighs for me willingly. I knelt between them and lowered my face to her thick brown and very moist bush. I pushed a couple of cushions under her ass to lift her hips high, and took her neat clit in my lips. She moaned.

"I'm going to make you come," I whispered. "Over and over again."

"I love it... but how does this...."

I wrested my face from her sex and said, "The cervix... it draws in the sperm each time you cum."

She was writhing under my tongue now, throwing her head from side to side. I nibbled her hard nub and she cried out and began to jerk, her thighs clamping the sides of my head.

"That's it, Addie... come for me. Can you feel your womb contracting?"

"Ugh," she grunted.

"Let it happen, baby, let it happen!"

Her hands now held my head tight against her cunt, urging me on.

Suddenly she was jerking her hips up and slamming into my face. I sucked on her clit and felt her juices erupting on me and around me. I hoped she wasn't gushing the sperm out as well and forcibly tore my face from her body.

"OH, OH, OH!" she cried out. "I was coming so good!"

"Haven't you been coming?"

"Yes, but I didn't want it to end."

My tongue was sore and aching at this point and I asked her to suck me off until I got hard.

Addie did, and I was in heaven again. A minute later I was fully erect and ushering her back onto her hands and knees. We spent another hour switching back and forth in those positions. I came in her two more times and ate her to a succession of torrid orgasms. We only ended our session because of the expected arrival of her sister.

I dressed, but Addie remained nude, begging me to suckle at her breasts to deprive her wicked sister of some of her milk.

That too was a pleasure beyond description. I left Addie fully sated and holding my considerable volume of cum inside her. Hopefully it would help to induce her labor.

*****

A week passed without word from Addie. I felt I had failed her and I was miserable. But that afternoon just before five, I got a phone call from her. She was weeping with joy. 

"You did it, Orin! I went into labor at two that morning. I now have a baby boy named David."

"Was it a difficult labor, Addie?"

"No, as easy as pie," she laughed. 

"Can I come see you?"

"That might be difficult, although I'd love to see you. When he's not here, she is. But I must tell you that he's a most devoted father. I do so want to thank you properly. We have unfinished business, you and I."

"I was hoping you'd feel that way, Addie."

*****

But it didn't turn out that way. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Her husband was transferred to England, of course Addie went with him. As time passed I got to feeling I would never see her again. I had no way of contacting her, and three years later I met, and married Maureen.

We had fifteen happy years together. Then the cancer came and took her away in just ten months.

*****

Now Addie was back in my life if only for the time we would spend together at dinner. Did I still want her? Of course I did. But one thing was certain, the days when I could get it up four or more times were long gone. 

I didn't trust myself to go back to my room to wait until our next meeting. I felt myself shrug. I knew it would be inevitable that I would masturbate if I did. So I decided put that off until it almost time to meet her again. 

I told myself that sex wasn't everything. After all, friendship, good company, interesting talk, even fine food and wine, equaled or even surpassed some levels of sexual activities. And I was sure that Addie would still be good company.

Time dragged and finally, unable to contain myself any longer, I picked up the phone and called her. 

"Hello, Addie? I'm just calling to see where you prefer dining."

"Oh, I don't know, Orin, must we dine out?"

"Of course we must. We have years to catch up on, and one can only do that over some fine wine and great food."

"Well, there's a nice café here at the Marrakech, where I'm staying."

"I'll be in the lobby at 7 o'clock. I'll be very upset if you're not there."

I heard her sigh. "Orin, you're very kind to me. Very well, I'll be there."

I jumped in the shower and groomed myself to look as young as possible. I kept seeing her standing in front of me in that red and white bikini and wondered how many forty plus women would dare wear one, much less carry it off as well as Addie had.

I waited impatiently in the lobby of the Moroccan styled lobby of the Marrakech telling myself that she wouldn't stand me up and then that she done just that, when she appeared in a lime green sari. Her arms and midriff were bare, her flesh a little plump but smooth. She had put her hair up in a clasp and it showed the grace of her neck. Bangles glittered on her wrists. I was aware of a few heads turning, and it gave me a glow of pride.

She kissed me warmly on the mouth and I was transported back twenty years, just like that. 

"You're as lovely as ever, Addie," I said.

"Thank you, Orin. You look pretty resplendent yourself. I hope you don't mind this outfit, it's just that it's so comfortable."

"'It's beautiful. You're the best-dressed woman here tonight."

"Well. I stopped wearing western clothes a while ago. Living all those years in Asia... Oh, you didn't know, did you?"

"No, you'll recall the last time we were together, I left hastily."

"I wanted to see you again. I really did. But life is like that; and then he whisked me off to England. I had another child the following year, a girl. They're both grown up now. I'm a grandmother twice over, imagine?"

I asked a few more questions, nothing pertinent, just trying to fill in the gaps and she answered them easily.

Then she asked me what I had been doing with myself, and I embarked on a potted life history, leaving out the female characters except for my late wife. 

By the time we had finished our starters I had brought Addie up to date.

"Addie, I wish we hadn't lost touch. Tell me everything that happened after you left for England."

She blushed again − was she remembering our wild session of sex the day before her baby was born? Did she remember it − how could she have forgotten it? Still, I didn't dare remind her.

"What about your husband?" I said after a brief lull.

She sighed. "We split up about 15 years ago. It was difficult..."

"Can I ask why?"

She took a sip of wine; put the glass down very carefully while measuring the words she would use to tell me what I needed to know.

"He was... obsessively jealous. He accused me having affairs with everyone I came in contact with – man or woman."

"Were you? I mean, having affairs?"

Addie reached for my hand and covered it with hers. "No, Orin," she sighed and I caught the regret in her face. "I was a good and faithful wife. The only one I had sex with... following the birth of my first child was his sister; and that was only because he wanted it that way."

"All those years, Addie, I had hoped you were happy."

"I was... for the most part. I had my children...."

"What?"

"Perhaps tomorrow you can meet my daughter, Carol."

"That would be a certain pleasure for me, Addie."




The Story of A



"That's where I was rushing off to this afternoon. Carol was getting a massage and I was to pick her up and take her to a late lunch."

"I see," I said, then asked if she'd like more wine."

"And why not? It's a celebration isn't it?"

"So, how did you manage after the divorce? You are divorced are you not?"

"Oh, yes. All properly done I assure you. His sister, of al people put me in touch with these marvelous people in need of a translator. You may recall I did some translating back in the day?"

"Yes, of course, I do."

"Well, my forte was in French, but I made it a point to learn some Chinese, Cantonese, to be specific, while working for that firm. Two years and two more dialects later, they transferred me to Hong Kong. Transferred isn't right. I was given a huge promotion and paid living expenses to go. It has been the most satisfactory experience of my life."

"I'm impressed, Addie, very impressed."

"You've done well too, I see."

Yes, I have my own PR firm. It's small but influential. I'm living in Toronto these days, but have a nice time-share here; in fact I was sitting in front of it when we met."

"That is a very impressive place, Orin."

"Um, I'd like to change the subject for a moment, Addie, if you don't mind." 

"Of course not, what is it, Orin?"

"Is there anyone else at the moment?"

"No, Orin, no one else. Look at me. I'm old, graying and look at the lnes in my...."

"Stop it! You're beautiful, Addie. I couldn't believe that was you in the bikini earlier. How many women your age could carry that off? Believe me; you're far from over the hill."

"Thank you, Orin, that's the nicest thing I've heard in many a year."

We were both laughed then and kept laughing right through our desert.

I dropped my napkin on the table. "Let's go, Addie. We have a lot of lost time to make up."

"You want me to go back to your place with you?"

I took her hand in mine. "Tell me, when did you last have really good sex?"

She looked down at the table. "Oh, Orin, that's not fair."

"Think."

"I don't know. It has been a while."

"I know you remember the day we induced your first child. I want you to know it was the best sex I've ever had."

"Stop it, Orin! I don't believe you. You must have had lots of women better than me."

"I've had lots... well a few anyway, but none of them compared to you."

"Anyway I'm old now, not a sexy young girl anymore."

"There's still a sexy girl inside you, waiting to be released. I can tell."

She looked up at me; her eyes were filled with tears. "I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll come back with me."

"You're just trying to repeat the past."

"We'll regret it for the rest of our lives if we don't. Look, we're both adults; both free, we don't have to account to anyone for what we do. If we don't feel like making love we can just cuddle each other all night. When was the last time you went to sleep in someone's arms?"

She looked up at me and this time was smiling. "Too long," she whispered. "But Orin, please don't expect too much of an old woman."

I laughed and said, "I'm sort of out of practice myself."

Fifteen minutes later we were in the elevator headed for my condo overlooking the beach. 

"I'm not sure I can do this, Orin."

I reassured her with butterfly kisses from her face down to her cleavage and had her trembling as we entered my quarters. Once inside, I spun her around and kissed her again. Her lips were hot soft cushions. She moaned into my mouth and then her tongue was doing things I had only dreamed of − her curvy body pressed against me, and I felt my erection rise up along her stomach. 

The moment the kiss ended, Addie fiddled with her sari and I watched as it fell to the floor revealing her naked body. She was everything I remembered except for the huge belly she had that memorable afternoon.

"Come to bed, Orin. I need you inside me." 

I undressed in record time and managed to not trip over anything on my way to join her on the bed. We left a small lamp on and fell to kissing one another on the mouth, shoulders, neck and chest. It was Addie who clambered over me, mounting me, and took my cock in hand and placed it at her entrance then slowing sank down on it.

HEAVEN!

I heard her sigh in contentment. Then she chuckled throatily and bounced up and down, her breasts swinging in my face. I grabbed a pillow and tucked it in back of my neck. This allowed me to reach her engorged nipples and suck hungrily on them in turn.

I felt her vaginal muscles grasping at my cock and reveled in the marvel of it all.

Addie rode me as she would a galloping mare, and it was all I could do to keep her from falling off by holding her fast with my hands on her glorious ass.

I heard her chanting something in Chinese, and chose to ignore it. She slapped my face with her breasts while I tried in vain to capture one in my mouth. At this point she was plunging up and down on me; sweat beaded along her spine – and then she started her climax and urged me to come with her.

I did and we came together in a wonderful kaleidoscope of sound and colorful sensations; her cunt clutching and milking every gram of sperm from me.

Then she lay on me, breathing deeply, relaxed, and murmuring how wonderful it had been. I felt an absurd glow of pride that I had managed to satisfy her again after all that time. 

My cock slipped out of her and I felt the hot flood of our emissions spread over my stomach. We rolled onto our sides, still entwined. I kissed her face; to my surprise there were tears on her cheeks.

"You know when we made love that time when I was pregnant?" she asked.

"'I'll never forget it." 

"There were all sorts of sexy things I wanted to do with you, but we couldn't because it wouldn't help start off the labor or something."

"I felt exactly the same about you, Addie."

"Well... is it too late to do them now?"

'Is it too late to do some of them now?'

"It's never too late, Addie. Did you have something in particular you'd like to begin with?"

"You won't think ill of me?"

"Never, I'm game for anything you want to do."

"Would you lick your sperm out of me?"

I had her legs draped over my shoulders before she had finished the sentence.

"Don't forget that," Addie purred, pointing to the streak of semen I'd left on her thigh. 

I didn't; my tongue sluiced it up and I swallowed with an exaggeration that had Addie giggling with a nastiness I'd never heard from her before. I had to say I liked seeing this side of her.

I reveled in the satiny feel of Addie's soft folds as I stroked them with my tongue. By the time my tongue entered her she was squirming on the bed; and after paying due homage to her clit I began licking and sucking my semen from her cunt and found it more enjoyable than I'd thought it would be. 

All too soon I had devoured all or almost all the fluids from every nook and cranny my tongue could reach. It's worth noting that Addie was wriggling and moaning throughout the procedure.

"My God, you're an expert at this," Addie husked.

"Did you come?"

"No, but I'm fine. I'm hovering at the edge. Believe me, it's quite a lovely place to be."

Leaning on an elbow, I looked into her eyes and asked, "What would you like to do next?"

"Orin... I... I want you to use me. I want you to degrade me."

"Addie, I can't do that to you."

She crawled on top of me, took my penis in her fist and jerked it several times until it swelled up into an acceptable hardon.

Her eyes locked on mine with lustful determination. "Yes you can. I want you to be very, very dirty in whatever you choose to do to me."

I realized she was serious, and wanting to please her, but not fully understanding what lengths she wanted me to go to, I asked again, "You... you want me to make you a slut?"

"Worse than that; think of me as someone with whom you can do anything you want, and for however long you want to do it."

"You'll do anything I want?" 

Addie nodded.

I stood with my arms crossed. "Okay, slut, get on your fucking knees and suck my cock." 

As soon as the words left my lips, an expression of pure lust appeared across Addie's face and her eyes blazed with carnal desire. Sliding off the bed, she crawled to my feet and reached for my cock.

"No... that's too easy, put your hands behind your back," I snarled, getting into the proper mood. 

Addie locked her arms behind her back and she stared up at me with a less than innocent expression. I stepped forward, her mouth opened and my engorged cock passed into her waiting mouth. As her lips closed around my shaft, her eyes shut with pleasure and she sucked gently on the end of my dick. 

Wanting to see if I could shock her, I tried rebuking her by saying: "Open your eyes, you fucking whore. Look at me when you suck my cock."

Her eyes immediately popped back open and she moaned around my shaft as she attempted to engulf even more of my shaft down her gullet. I decided to help her and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her head forward while plunging the remainder of my cock into the back of her throat.

I was taken aback when she didn't gag. She'd done this before! But with whom?

Holding her head in place, I fucked her hard until she gagged, more from needing to breathe than anything else.

"Where did you learn that?" I demanded. 

"They taught me," she answered simply. I knew very well who they were. That incestuous brother and sister with whom she'd lived all those years.

That said, Addie held her tongue out waiting for me to place my cock upon it again. I varied the game slightly and smacked her mouth with my erection, causing her to wince, but she didn't try to avoid me.

"Do you like being on your knees?" I asked, slapping my saliva smeared penis dick against her face and then her nose. 

"Yes," she gasped a second before my prick slipped back into her hungry mouth. 

Her soft, pink lips closed down on my shaft gliding up and down my pulsing shaft; her tongue tickling the underside of my cock with swipe after swipe of buttery softness. 

"Suck my balls," I groaned several minutes later.

Addie leaned in and took my swollen sac into her hot, wet mouth and sucked gently. I moaned softly as her tongue probed the area behind my balls, licking, sucking and kissing what I had up to that moment considered forbidden areas.

"Can I... can I lick your ass?"

I was shocked, but quickly agreed.

Addie changed her position, getting me to kneel on the bed, and then began to lick and tongue my ass. It was a magnificent feeling that got even better when she took hold of my cock and began milking it. Not jerking me off, per se, but slowly stroking me as if she were working a cow's teat. She did this while remaining fixed to my asshole, which she spat into in order to gain some form of purchase with which she might penetrate my bung hole with that marvelous tongue.

"Mmmm... you are a slut... a very talented slut."

"Thank you... Master," she replied then returned to sucking on my asshole, moaning happily as her tongue wormed its way into my rectum. 

It went on that way until the sheets were soaked from her saliva and she switched from tonguing me to fingering me. I allowed her to do it because she had renewed sucking on my cock and balls, and the overall feeling was one of complete rapture. 

"Very good slut," I said, and had to laugh when she pulled the finger from my ass and brought it to her mouth and sucked upon it for several seconds.

"Mmmm, tasty!" she said gleefully as she reinserted it in my ass and recaptured my pulsing cock a second before I began to ejaculate.

Addie swallowed every drop. And fingered my ass throughout my orgasm, heightening the tremendous feelings by doing so.

"You fucking whore," I muttered with amazement, and caused her to smile around my dwindling erection; but she kept sucking relentlessly, trying to reinvigorate a very tired dick.

I grabbed her hair again and pulled her insatiable mouth off my salvia sheened cock.

"Enough!"

"Really, Master?"

I realized Addie wanted me to reciprocate and I did, rolling her over on her back I spread her legs and went down on her. This time I licked her ass as she'd licked mine. I had her coming in under a minute, belatedly realizing that she had been getting hotter and hotter while debasing herself on me and my ass.

"You like being my slut, Addie?"

"Yes! I'll do whatever the fuck you want me to."

"Really?"

"Yes... I will. I'll fuck your friends... I'll fuck their wives... I'll do anything."

"You really want to be degraded?"

"Of course. I'm you're slut."

"What if I wanted you to fuck your daughter with a strap-on?"

"No! There I draw the line?"

"What if I wanted you to fuck your son?"

"My answer is the same, no way. They are innocent... both are married and have children of their own.

"Addie... I want you to know I would never put you through any of that. I want you and I want you to want me... for the remainder of our lives."

"You love me? After what I just did."

"Yes, I love you now and I've loved you since we first met. I'm sorry we didn't fall in love before you married him, but I won't let you go now. Addie, I want to marry you. Please say yes, please I beg you, say you'll marry me."

"Yes, Orin. Oh, yes! I love you too.

*****

We were married two weeks later. It would have been sooner, but Addie wanted her children and grandchildren to attend the small wedding on the island. So although her daughter was already on the island, we had to wait until Her children were delighted that she had found me after all these years.



The Story of Alan Wintersbee



**After extensive complaining that people believe this is a cuckolding story, I wanted to clarify my intentions. This story may take one of several directions. I most expect it to go down a forced sex or BDSM path. It started out as such. It is based on an old story I wrote where the wife is abducted as part of a forced sex fantasy. If it does go down one of those paths, I will start labeling it as so. It is possible that it will go down a cuckolding path but, if it does, it will be light, will not include humiliation, and the control will certainly come from the husband. I've labeled it as "loving wives" because I currently intend for the couple to go no further than sharing and swinging.

**Please also be aware that this story is purposefully written in a dry, matter-of-fact tone. I have read many comments complaining of this and realize I should have originally disclosed it here. This is an introduction and future stories will have far less in narrative and far more in action. 

*

My name is Alan Wintersbee. I am tall and thin and always have been. You could call me lanky but it wouldn't be entirely true. I run and have a personal trainer who keeps me quite fit and toned. I am pale and have always been that way as well. Tall, thin, and pale may not be the trendy look in Hollywood but, with my blue eyes, I think I have a look of gentlemanly appearance. Such a look meets my needs just fine. I keep my hair short and sometimes wear glasses. I rarely smile. It's not that I am unhappy. I feel as though smiling is to appease the person you are smiling at and I just figure not bother with such pleasantries. 

I have been married to Vanessa for almost twelve years. We live in the US, in Boston. Vanessa works at a very well-to-do bank, as a teller. She is smart and has a degree yet has been unable to climb the ladder and she blames this on the fact that her boss is a real shmuck. She says he hires only pretty tellers and promotes only those who keep him company, if you know what I mean. He apparently is able to do so while keeping his tracks clean. When she told me, I thought that sounded like an enjoyable arrangement and impressive ass covering, but I didn't say so.

I have a small accounting firm. It's yet to make me lavishly rich but I have had some exceptionally profitable years. Recently my firm has begun managing the assets of executives at a national corporation. It is always concerning to see a room full of executive managers seeking investment advice on buying stocks besides their company's stock. I invest my money in the same things I invest my company's money into. Why don't they? I never so much as grin during those meetings. I find myself having to avert my eyes to avoid glaring at them. Are their investments legal? Yes, they are. But are they admirable... no. I've been considering dropping them as clients for years and not doing so is certainly a failing of my own character. 

Until I cut the cord, they will continue to net me a great profit. I've had to hire a few new bodies to keep up with all the paperwork but it's still very lucrative. For now I smile in the morning when I get my coffee, sit in the conference room, and check my bank account and investments. I doubt Carl Icahn is looking over his shoulder though. That is okay. Millions are practical. Billions are for show.

That's enough about that though. I'm writing to share with you a story, a true story, that I think many of you will find interesting. You see, my wife and I live a very intriguing life that, if I had not lived it, I would not have imagined possible. Prior to meeting my wife I had just taken certain things as inevitable sufferances. Mainly, how dull life was on a day to day basis. I'd read about people quitting their 9-5 and moving to a tropical climate and that's just not for me. I enjoy first world amenities and am not so crazy as to throw them aside and fly into the stone age just because it may be more stimulating. Getting chased by bulls is stimulating but you won't see me signing up for it.

Nonetheless, the first world can be a damn bore. I don't like shopping, I prefer not to waste away in front of a television, I drive a luxury car but it hardly makes me feel alive, and most of my friends are as boring as I am. This was where I was at when I met Vanessa: bored.

Vanessa graduated with honors from a prestigious university. She's sharp as they come and understands quite a bit of my business. When it comes to fixed rate investments, like bonds, she knows more actually. I've offered her positions at my firm but she doesn't like the idea of working together. She says my office sounds terribly boring. She's likely right. She wouldn't fit in.

I tend to hire very dry personalities who don't need encouragement or praise. If they all turned out to be robots from the future, I wouldn't be surprised. Vanessa's a breath of fresh air, which I quite enjoy in my down time, but during the workday I prefer my robots. I ignore them when I walk through the office, I speak to them rarely, I never praise them, and none of them seems the least bit offended. As far as I'm concerned, I've got the best employees money can buy. I read about Google and the bean bags and the gourmet cafeteria and the bicycles for getting about campus... what a bunch of nuts.

Also, another conflict is that my wife is good looking and I exclusively hire uglies. Distractions are just that, distractions. I certainly do not need such things. Even more, put a pretty girl among a bunch of uglies and you've got a bomb in the making. I prefer dry, boring girls who smile as rarely as I do. Pleasantries really are just a nuance. Vanessa would disagree and I am sure we'd be fighting within days if we worked together. Me and the uglies would probably exile her then go back to our quiet, unfriendly ways.

Our personality overlap obviously was not the attracting force when we originally met. Our backgrounds in finance were what initially brought us together. We met at a bankers association conference. She is a stunning brunette with very long, thick hair. Few woman look more feminine than my wife. Her body is the very pinnacle of the female body. She has a behind that is truly something to marvel at, even when wrapped up in a formal skirt or business suit. It's not all that large but is certainly well shaped and not subtle enough to cover up. She has a large B and always chooses to wear low cut shirts that show the inner curves of her breasts. She wears a bra that is a size too small but it gives her extra cleavage. When she first sat next to me at the conference, she was wearing a full business suit yet her breasts were still clearly visible. I remember it quite clearly. I didn't hear a single word the speaker said after she sat down. I felt as though I was in grade school again.

That loose attitude, that inclination for scandalous sexual adventure, is where we truly fused together and is also what has since kept us together. Sitting there, when we first met, I never dreamed that the stunning woman next to me not only aroused every sexual fantasy a man could dream up, but fulfilled them too. Who looks at a woman in a business suit and thinks slut? I mean, honestly? If you ever sit next to my wife, that would be a reasonable thing to think though... if you knew her.

This sexual overlap is where our passion for one another lies. Our passion is far from our educations, jobs, or family backgrounds. On the contrary, we both dislike each other's families. She has her mother's wit, but the rest of them are a pack of wild animals. In addition to her family, her career frustrates me to no end. She works, year after year, without advancing and without resigning. She has her excuses but they do not relieve my frustrations.

She makes up for this in other ways, that relieve me and then some. The first time we met, we both grew bored with the conference, skipped the pre-arranged conference dinner, and found a quiet Mexican restaurant. By the time we walked in we already had each other's eyes and she sat on the same side of the booth we were escorted to. By the time she ordered her margarita she had scooted closer. By the time we ordered an appetizer, her hand was on my crotch. Over the next half hour, she hardly left my cock unattended to. After we finished our appetizer she apologized for teasing me for so long and asked me to her room so she could finish what she started. 

Twenty minutes later she led me to the edge of her bed, sat me down, put a pillow beneath her knees, unzipped my zipper, pulled my cock through, opened her mouth, lowered her head, and began the longest, most amazing blowjob I had ever received. She did not rush. She was slow and firm, not timid. She took her time and when I would approach orgasm she would slide my cock from my mouth and softly ask me if I wanted to cum. Many times, I shook my head no, not willing to let it end. She smiled, as though that was the answer she'd hoped for, and went back to my hard cock. 

She kept me so hard, for so long, that I felt like I was in high school again. When I finally did nod yes, she put my hand down her shirt, onto her breast. They were large and natural. She sucked harder and deeper and pushed up behind my balls with her fingers. I pumped cum into her mouth to an extent that I can only imagine to have been exhaustive for her. I felt embarrassed and guilty as I felt the enormous convulsions of cum leaving my cock into her mouth. But she swallowed without issue and I knew she was clearly experienced at oral sex. Later she would reveal just how much experience she had and my most promiscuous expectations were far surpassed. That's the woman I married. 

If you ask another woman if a woman like my wife should be able to sexually satisfy a man for all his life, I believe most would answer yes. I would not fault them for this but, in my opinion, it is wrong. It is wrong by a mile. If you ask a man, and they were to answer honestly, I believe most would say that such a woman could not be expected to satisfy a man for all his life. I am an accountant, not a psychologist, so I cannot fully explain or support my belief. It is simply a belief and nothing more. But, you see, my belief is that men are chemically engineered to avoid monogamy. Our brains eventually recognize and grow accustomed to the same naked body and the thrill is lost. Our hormones, however, do not subside. They simply yearn for a different beautiful ass, a different beautiful pair of breasts, really... a different and new thrill.

This is why I say our accounting backgrounds brought us together but did not keep us together. It was not our hobbies or families. Nor have I said that Vanessa's amazing body or sexual talents kept us together. They didn't. Her sexual attitude complimenting my own is the thing that keeps the attraction and relieves the tensions. 

She is hardly a housewife. She is hardly obedient. Yet when it comes to my daily urges she enjoys satisfying them. She doesn't crave sex and I don't mean to mislead you into believing that her hormonal urges are like mine. I would say she is best described as someone who enjoys a varied, secretive, and somewhat taboo lifestyle. She was raised in a strict Catholic household and one of her most defining characteristics is that she prefers to rebel, sin as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, and do as she pleases.

Vanessa also seems to have an affinity for dressing up in slutty clothing. She loves shopping for it, putting it on, and walking out into the store to show me in front of the other browsing patrons. She loves putting together a slutty outfit and puts hours into preparing for every night out. Indeed, a few years ago we had part of a large guest room turned into a secret closet with a floor to ceiling bookcase door. 

Leather and latex are hardly our thing, although she has a few of both. Her closet is filled with many varying degrees of revealing tops and bottoms. The sluttiest of the bunch she's only acquired in the last couple of years. Some are totally sheer, some with deep v cleavage cuts, some that fit so tight that without a bra that they leave nothing to the imagination. She has heels, hoop earrings, endless sparkling necklaces and bracelets, hair extensions, and enough slutty lingerie to outfit a pornographic fashion show.

Her sluttiest outfits would get us kicked out of any half decent bar and so they are reserved just for dance and sex clubs but on most nights out we prefer to go to the bars and Vanessa is an expert at flirting with the line of acceptable bar outfits. Seeing every man in the bar giving her glances always gets us both quite heated. In bars where we can get away with it, we sneak off to the bathroom where I fuck her with skirt hiked up and tits pulled from her top. In a few of our more aroused moments, I've screwed her in shared bathrooms. Once midnight has past, few patrons are sober enough to worry all that much and the real concern is a drunken gentlemen trying to join in!

Before Vanessa, I had never banged a girl in a public bathroom. It's quite a thrill and now I recommend it to every bloke I know. We've grown kinkier over the years. At first she'd just give me a speedy blowjob. Then we started fucking and got a thrill from heading back to the bar, flushed and accompanied by the odor of heated sex. This was enough for her. It was thrilling and fun for me, but I grew bored. 

Realize that years do terrible things to a marriage. We are both in our late thirties and neither of us are particularly excited about approaching forty. Over time, you see, things lost their thrill. This is when the key to our relationship showed itself. Vanessa never condemned my boredom. She saw it for what it was and took it on as a challenge to keep me interested. Other women would say to do so would be demeaning. She never has said such words.

Years back things escalated quite a lot. I remember one night I had her bent over the sink, her g-string pushed to the side, and I came in her. It was no small amount. After, she went to clean off and I asked her not to. She gave me a look, I nodded I was sure, and we walked out. When the cum began dripping down her leg as we stood at the bar, she gave me another look, I nodded again that I was sure and she just smiled and went back to choosing some tapas. I saw several people notice the several streaks of cum drip down her leg but Vanessa never appeared to give it another thought. Those sort of things don't phase her. At the time, I had been struggling to fuck her twice in one night but that night, twenty minutes later, I fucked her in the parking lot. 

We escalated gradually. We never plan the increments, they just come naturally. A longtime ago, I often thought about asking her to do something crazy, like a gangbang. But I had recognized the nature of my boredom issue and was afraid of the day when we couldn't think of what to escalate to next. So every few months, when my erections would loose steam, I would push us a bit further and she would oblige.

Please don't misunderstand us and think that all that matters to us is sex. We aren't total barbaric animals who can only rip our clothes off and hump. That's our Friday night treat. Our relationship is hardly only sex. We often go to dinner with friends, go to sports games, or even just head to bars to get drunk together. We try to avoid TV yet we have a few shows we enjoy watching together. We have had quite a lot of fun going out over the years but we've always agreed that good sex seems to keep our relationship less stressful. I might understate its effect. Without a doubt, it keeps me invested and motivated to put in effort when things get tough.

Over the months following her cum dripping voyeurism, we decided to do some new things which neither of us realized the consequences of at the time. We went out to a club which was getting great reviews and we knew would be packed. The day before, we met during our lunch hour and picked out a sheer top. It was very, very classy but... sheer. In the dark, you couldn't see her breasts but as soon as light hit her top, it was transparent and her tits were on full display. Over the years her breasts had only sagged a little. They still held a perfect shape and her nipples were beautiful. Her face was, unaided and unaltered, still quite pretty. She was truly a sight to behold. 

I honestly believe every guy in the club was checking her out. Maybe some prefer blondes and some dislike curves... but when a stunningly pretty woman shows a well shaped, perky pair of breasts in a club, few men ignore it. I quickly found out that many men took it as an invitation to flirt with or even grab her. We were fighting guys off left and right.

I was oddly aroused when men grabbed her tits and ass. I certainly didn't erupt with anger as I'd have expected and, instead, I found myself leaning back and watching her get groped until she looked to me for help. A dark, dirty part of me wanted them to have their way and to bend her over and fuck her. I love her and wouldn't let her be raped... but the urge was there and I cannot lie and say it was not.

Twice during the night I got so hard from watching men slip their hands beneath her clothing that I had to take her to the bathroom and fuck her. I fucked her like we hadn't fucked in years. It was an uncontrollable, hard fuck and my passion and desire for her body made her as heated as I was. I made her cum more intensely than she had in quite a long while.

In retrospect, you could say that night is when we crossed an invisible line into a world of sex that few people dare cross into but many dream of. The Internet is filled with voyeurism, swinging, wife sharing, gang bangs, and even cuckolding. In practice, I can tell you almost no one acts on these desires. Even most of the people at the clubs spend a great deal of time flirting with the line before so much as dabbing a toe in. 

Like drugs or adrenaline sports, a dirty sex life becomes a way of life. Quitting it would mean to cut from your life the thing that most intensely engages your every sense. So we do not quit it. We indulge. Call it an addiction. Call it a sin. I have fucked my wife, face to face, while another man's cock is up her ass. It was beyond erotic. Most people don't dare break social norms and I can only shake my head at those mindless fools. Leave the robots to their timid lives and regretful deathbeds. 

This is our story, if you care to hear it...



The Story of Alex & Sammi



Samantha wasn't perfect, she was a real woman. She had curves, a plump bottom and large breasts. She wasn't very popular with the male sex. They made her self conscious and nervous. 

She was tired of being alone and thought making a trip to Amsterdam for her birthday would help. She was turning twenty five and she was tired of not having a lover. 

Sure she'd had sex, many times with her friend Clyde, but he wasn't anything special. He had a new girlfriend though and didn't want to continue their Friday night ritual. Dinner out, a rented movie, a bag of pot and then sex in his living room. She didn't want to be a virgin forever, that's why they'd begun their ritual. 

She booked her trip for May, spring time. She spent the next few months preparing for her trip. She found some coffee shops she wanted to try, she loved pot and hoped to try some new varieties. She also found tourist attractions, a town tour and what she was interested in the most, an escort service that would take you to dinner and a show of your choice. 

As she packed her bags, she made sure to include her sexiest clothes. She'd had to order a few new things off the internet, but combined with her rare special occasion items, she was able to pack an ample sexy wardrobe. 

Boarding her plane the next Monday, she bid Clyde goodbye and told him she'd phone him when she could. She took off for her gate and felt a rush of satisfaction fall over her.

After boarding the plan, she settled in with a good book. She was in the window seat next to a tall man, muscular and good looking. Over the course of the flight, they chatted and found out they lived only an hour apart. 

When it came time to land, she was sad that her flight ended and she had to leave the man. She'd learned he was from Amsterdam and going home to visit his parents. He was a lawyer and his name was Alexander. They parted ways at the gate, after a quick hug goodbye. 

She found a cab and headed off to her hotel. She was still tingling from being so close to Alexander. He was a very sexy man and she'd held his attention for hours. If only she'd had the courage to get his telephone number or ask him out. 

She looked out the window, in a daze, all the way to the hotel. 

Upon arriving at the hotel, she checked in and found her room. Settling in, she unpacked her bags, put things away and then lay down for a nap. 

Awaking hours later, she was rested and ready for her trip to begin. She headed out to check out the first coffee shop she'd found near her hotel. Slinking in and finding a table, she ordered a chef salad, latte and a brownie baked with the best pot they had. 

She finished her food up and noticed the man from the plane across the room. He was deeply involved in a conversation with an older gentleman. He didn't notice her at first, but when he did, he waved before turning back to his friend. 

She cleaned up her table and headed off to see the city. She walked for an hour, then turned to head back to the hotel. It took longer to return because she'd stopped to check out the sidewalk vendors on the way back. She'd found so many exotic items on her way back, she was having trouble carrying them all. 

Suddenly, Alexander was at her side, helping her gather her things. She became shy, "Hi, how'd you find me?"

He smiled, "I followed you from the coffee shop. We had such a connection on the plane, I needed to see you again."

She became nervous, no man had ever needed to see her before. She wasn't gorgeous or sexy, she was just plump. 

He continued, "I'll help you back to your hotel if that's alright. I thought we could have a drink." 

She laughed nervously, "Sounds like fun, let's go." 

They made it to her hotel, made their way to her room and he ordered wine from room service. When it arrived, they filled their glasses and went to the balcony. It was the reason she'd wanted this room, this hotel. 

Sipping their wine, they talked and talked. Suddenly, she leaned over and kissed him. His lips were tangy and hers were sweet, the combination of the two set her spinning. 

He pulled her into his lap, pushing her hair back from her face and trailing his fingers down her neck. He followed with his lips, tracing her skin with his tongue. She nibbled his ear, teasing him, setting him on fire. 

He found his way under her shirt, her breasts overflowing out of her bra. He cupped them, rubbing her nipples through the fabric with his thumbs. They instantly became hard, ready to be sucked on. 

Pushing her shirt up, he released one from it's holder. He caressed her, watching her nipples grow under his touch. Pinching her nipple, he undid the clasp on her bra and released her other breast. He lifted his head to her bosom, licking one nipple then the other. 

She moaned, pulling his face closer, helping him to latch on to her nipple and suckle. He stayed like that for almost ten minutes. Switching from left to right, suckling and teasing her. He nibbled and caressed, he licked and sucked. He had tasted just about every inch of her naked chest. 

She slipped her top over her head and let her bra drop to the floor. She sat in his lap, his face burrowed against her smooth skin. She kissed the top of his head, running her hands down his back. 

He looked up to her face and they embraced. She felt the electricity run through them as their lips met. Their tongues tangled and their lips felt magnetized. Her blazed a path from her lips and down her neck to her bosom again. 

She'd never felt so alive, she'd always been ashamed of her body. She wasn't thin like the others, she didn't have a tiny waist or fit into the tiny sizes. She was plump and filled out and he made her feel gorgeous.

He worshipped her body, every curved inch of it. She stood, sliding the tight skirt down over her bouncy ass. She turned as she did so, allowing him a full view of her body. When she had her back to him, she slipped her panties down too. Slightly spreading her legs and bending over at the waist to give him an ample view of her bare, waxed pussy. 

His pants grew tight, the bulge was thick and long. She turned back to him, aware of how badly he wanted her now. She straddled his lap this time, aware of how naked she was, how pudgy she must look. 

She didn't care, he thought she was gorgeous and he told her. Every breath he took, he called her the names she'd longed to hear. Sexy and tasty, lovely and fine, sweet and sensual. Though she loved the one he'd said first, fuckable.

She even felt fuckable. She found herself slowly trailing her hands down to his chest. Sliding them under his shirt to feel his skin, hot and searing against hers. She helped him tug the shirt over his head, then he tossed it aside and gathered her in his arms. Their lips met and she shivered. 

He thought it was the cool breeze and stood with her in his arms. Carrying her inside the room and laying her on the bed. He stood near, admiring her body. She felt sexy and alive, so she had no problems playing it up for him. She spread her legs and pulled her knees up closer, giving him an excellent view of her wet cunt. She used her fingers to spread the lips apart and rubbed her clit with her other hand. 

She slipped a finger inside, his lips curved into a mischievous grin. He unzipped his pants and dropped them to his ankles. His cock bobbed as he stepped out of them. It was larger than she'd hoped and thick too. She sat up on the edge of the bed, panting and drooling at this masterpiece right in front of her eyes. 

He stepped closer, his cock still bobbing. It playfully slapped her cheek, she reached for it. As she took control of his cock, he groaned. Her lips kissed the head, then her tongue flickered across. She ran her tongue down to the base, flickering against his balls. Making her way back up, she licked and teased him. His cock was so meaty, she grasped it with her hand. Sliding up and down, her mouth sucking on the head while her hands jerked him into her mouth. He was making soft moans, his eyes shut and his hand on his hips. He pressed forward to further enter her mouth. His head touched her throat, he held it there. 

She gurgled on his member, massaging his balls with one hand. They were shaved or waxed. She wasn't sure, but they were so smooth. She let his cock go and lowered her head. She licked each of his balls, then took them one by one into her mouth. Suckling them, she almost pushed him over the edge. 

He cried out, begging her to let him taste her sweet nectar. She let him go and lay back on the bed, spreading her legs to show him all of her. He lowered his face and breathed in her scent. He ran his tongue across her clit in the shape of a figure eight, then licked all the way to her asshole. He made a circle around her asshole, pressing his tongue over the opening when he was finished. She rubbed at her clit with her finger until he licked his way back. 

He had her on the verge of cumming when he slapped her ass and motioned for her to stand. When she did, he relaxed on the edge of the bed. Just enough that his ass was on it, but his legs stretched out in front of him. She straddled him, letting him enter her for the first time. She could feel him filling her. 

Her pussy wasn't big enough, Clyde hadn't been very big himself. She felt filled, every inch of her filled with him. She lifted her knees to the bed, pushing him back on the comforter. She rocked, all the while holding his chest back. He ran his hands down her sides, over her ass. Helping her stay steady on his cock. She could feel the heat, knew she was going to explode. Wanting him to fill her with his delicious cum. 

He moved his hands to her waist, pushing her away from him. She fought back, rocking her hips to take more of him back inside her. Their movements collided, setting them both into an outrageous orgasm. She called out his name, "Oh Alex, you fill me."

They pulled up on the bed and lay together. Naked, complete and intertwined. Knowing that this began the story of Sammi and Alex.



The Story of Amy O



Michael Booth looked up from the reports as his door tentatively opened. "Ah, Miss O. There you are. Please, come in."

Amy made her way into the office, her hands nervously clutching her latest article. She watched as her employer looked her over with his deep blue eyes. 

"You, uh, wanted to see me, sir?" Amy asked.

"Yes, I was just looking over your work here and I must say I'm very impressed." He gestured to a folder on his desk. "You're quite a talented writer."

She blushed, but smiled proudly. 

"Thank you, Mr. Booth. You don't know how much it means to me to be here."

Amy O had been working at Swerve magazine for two amazing weeks now. Swerve, being a leading publication for modern culture, was just the place to have her columns on human sexuality viewed by millions of open-minded individuals. She felt so many kindred spirits here in the offices and everyone had been so great at making her feel at home. The most welcoming of them all, of course, was Mr. Booth, the owner and chief editor of the magazine. He treated all the employees fairly and was always available for advice or support.

Amy's thoughts snapped back to the present as he continued.

"I'm quite happy with what I've seen so far, Miss O, but I'm a little worried."

Amy swallowed and stammered, "Uh...sir?"

Mr. Booth put down the report he was reading. "You have some amazing insights and your writing is stellar. However, it doesn't sound like you're immersed in the subject."

"I don't quite know what you mean, sir..."

"What I mean, Miss O, is that while you talk of sexuality, your words don't seem to convey that you've truly been a part of it. You speak of everything so coldly, so clinically. It's as if you're an observer, even when you're the subject of the story. Your sexuality is rooted in your brain, which is admirable, but it seems to lack connection with your body."

Amy's brain reeled slightly at the words. She'd always prided herself on her openness. To hear such criticisms from someone she admired so much shook her to her core. But there was something about his tone that seemed to spark deep inside her. He wasn't harsh or judging; it was as if he was stating a common fact.

"I, I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know what to say..."

Mr. Booth looked over his newest hire with an appraising eye. Her hair was a chestnut brown, cut short and sensibly. Her bright blue eyes held a perpetual glimmer of brilliance behind her glasses, and her glossy full lips always smiled faintly. Amy's white blouse did its best to conservatively conceal her lush curves without being prudish, and he could see the swell of her firm breasts through the unfastened top buttons. Her black skirt was cut just above her knee and hinted at the secrets within. Black stockings encased her smooth legs, leading down to a sensible pair of black heels. 

"What I'm saying, Miss O, is that you don't seem to have much bodily connection to sex. Your thoughts and feelings are there, but the passions of the flesh seem to be lacking." 

Amy shifted where she stood, trying to get more comfortable. His low voice held a seductive drawl to it. It seemed to reach down into her and pull levers in her soul that had never been pulled. That, coupled with such frank talk, was beginning to make her body heat rise.

"If I may be so bold to ask, Miss O, have you ever felt an animal, all consuming passion before? Ever been overwhelmed by pleasure? Had your body completely override all thoughts and fill you with sensation?"

Amy was speechless. Her cheeks flushed and she began to feel the telltale warmth emanating from between her thighs. 

"N-no, sir, I, uh..."she stammered, "I've never, uh, never had that happen really."

"I see," Mr. Booth replied.

He leaned back in his chair and once again looked her over. There was something about her that thrilled and excited him, and he felt familiar stirrings in his gut. Perhaps it was the blush that was spreading over her neck and cheeks, or the way she held his gaze confidently even through her nervousness. Whatever it was, Mr. Booth was curious to see exactly how strong her walls were.

"Miss O, I'd like to offer you an opportunity to grow as a woman and as a writer. Would you like that, Miss O?" Mr. Booth asked.

Amy nodded dumbly, still trying to restrain her nerves and her blossoming arousal. Mr. Booth's eyes bored into hers as if reading her thoughts. "Excellent. You will arrive here tomorrow afternoon and every afternoon hereafter at," He glanced briefly at his watch, "3:22 exactly. Not a minute sooner, nor a minute later, or else I will retract this offer. Am I clear, Miss O?"

The clear confidence in his words made her tremble. It wasn't that he was commanding. No, she'd known many commanding men in her life and they never made her feel this way. This was different. This was...compelling. He wasn't trying to order her to do something she didn't want to, he was convincing her to do all those hidden things she'd never allowed herself to do.

"Miss O!" 

The words snapped Amy out of her reverie. With wide eyes and a flustered smile, she said, "Yes sir!"

"Good. I will see you tomorrow then." Mr. Booth turned back to his work, leaving Amy to stand awkwardly before she scurried out of the room.

Moments later, Amy rushed into her own office and locked the door behind her. Panting, she leaned against the desk and closed her eyes. Had he really meant what it sounded like? Had he really offered to mentor her? And, for that matter, mentor her in what? She felt overwhelmed; not just by the proposition but also by her body's reaction. He seemed to be able to look into her and see her secrets, the hidden thoughts, the untold desires. 

Most surprising of all was the heat burning between her thighs. Her white silk panties felt uncomfortable as they dampened. Amy's breathing was shallow and labored as she glanced around. It was late enough, she reasoned; anyone who'd need her would be busy, right? She bit her lip as she sat onto her desk chair and spread her legs. Her thighs parted slightly as she ran her fingertips along them.

One hand made its way up her stomach sliding gently over the soft silk of her blouse. She paused at each button, working each one free as she traveled upward. When the top one was opened, she shrugged the blouse off her shoulders. Her full breasts strained against the white lace of the bra, her nipples hard enough to poke through. She grinned slightly and gave each one a pinch as her fingers slipped into the cups to caress her hot flesh. Amy moaned at the feeling. She bit her lower lip and she worked her hand further under her skirt until she brushed against her panties. She shuddered deliciously as the cool satin pressed against the smooth hairless flesh around her womanhood. 

Amy delighted and gasped as her fingers pulled her panties free. She slid the flimsy material down her legs and kicked them to the floor. With one foot propped on the desk she began rubbing her pussy frantically. The smell of sex filled the room and little mewls of pleasure escaped her lips. She thought of Mr. Booth, his face studying her every move, the bulge in his pants growing as his words hypnotized her. Closer and closer to climax she worked herself as she pinched and twisted her nipples with her free hand. She hadn't imagined it, had she? He really was aroused by her, right? The thought of him lusting after her was just what she needed. She let out a low, guttural moan as her climax peaked. Her legs trembled and her pussy clenched at her fingers as the pleasure washed over her. Amy's stomach trembled as she collapsed backward and slumped into the chair, panting and exhausted by the sheer force of the orgasm. It had been ages since she'd cum that hard and that fast. Yes, she thought as she smiled to herself, tomorrow would be an interesting afternoon.

Unbeknownst to Amy, Michael Booth was busy slumping back into his own chair at that moment. He looked down at his softening cock and his pants stained with his cum. 

"Oh Miss O," he muttered as he lounged, tomorrow will be a very interesting afternoon.