It started out as a joke, a passing fancy, a half-serious dare. It quickly became an addiction.
When you come into the room, I have to choke down the instinct to smile, to kiss you, to hold you close. Instead, I adopt a stern frown.
“Strip naked,” I command. You comply.
“You can stop this at any time,” I say, “Just say one word. Bananarama. That’s the word. Got it?
“Bananarama” you repeat meekly.
“Very good,” I say condescendingly, patting you on the head like a kindergartner. “But if you use that word,” I go on sternly, “You don’t get to come. Do you understand?”
You nod silently.
“Good,” I say. I pull out two pairs of thumb cuffs (14.95 on Amazon!), and twirl them casually on one finger. “Down on the floor,” I say. You obey.
I lock your thumbs together behind your back, fasten your two big toes together. Leave the keys on the night stand. “You look nice like that,” I say. “Vulnerable. I’m going to go take a shower.”
I leave you there on the floor, and treat myself to a long, hot, sudsy shower. I take my time, though I am aching to be back in the room with you. I masturbate a little, but then I catch myself getting over-excited, and have to douse my bits with cold water.
When I come back into the room, wrapped up in a fluffy purple towel, you are up on the bed. I smile. “Simon didn’t say,” I say in a sing-song voice. “Bottoms up, dear!”
Your ass is beautiful, pale and flawless. I beat it without mercy, smacking first one cheek and then the other, leaving red hand prints to mark my territory. I spank you until my hands smart and sting from it, and then I switch to my hairbrush. You grunt and groan, but not a word of complaint passes through your lips. I dare you, double-dare you to use your safe word as I pummel your bright red bottom with my leather belt, but you hold your piece even as salty tears stream down your face.
Finally, when my arm is tired, and I get the sense that I might be on the edge of pushing you too far, I stop. I run one finger lazily up and down your sex. Clearly I am not the only one who is enjoying this game.
Up on your knees. I want to get a dog collar for you to wear, all the time, even when you’re at work, so the whole world will know that you are mine, all mine.
Out come the sterile needles I stole from the hospital clean room. You wince but stay silent every time I puncture your flesh. The alcohol makes it sting. The blood blossoms like red roses on your perfect chest. You look so gorgeous kneeling there it almost stops my heart.
I am about to kiss you, but then I change my mind. Smack! Smack! Smack! Open palm, right across the face.
“I’m setting a timer,” I say, pulling out my smartphone and making a big show of setting up the stopwatch. “You’ve got 15 minutes. If you haven’t given me an orgasm before that alarm goes off, you are going to be very, very sorry.”
I put the phone on the side table next to the cuff keys, and lie down on my back. The clock is ticking. You feverishly go to work, doing your best in your hobbled state, hands pinned behind your back, feet attached at the toes. I had thought of gagging you, but now I’m glad I didn’t. You work furiously, desperately, using mouth and tongue. You do your work almost too well; I have to roll over onto my front to keep you from getting me off. I lift my ass in the air, spreading my cheeks, and you dive in, sticking your tongue into my asshole, licking my most private parts in an optimistic attempt to appease me. It doesn’t work, but it feels delicious.
Finally the alarm goes off. “Time’s up!” I say cheerfully, rolling off the bed. “Nice try, but not good enough. Now you’re really in trouble!”
You look worried. Rightly so.
I take a freshly peeled root of ginger out of the ziplock bag I had stashed in the drawer. Up your butt it goes, neat as a cork in last night’s wine bottle. I lay back on the bed, parting my knees invitingly. “The sooner I get off, the sooner it comes out!”
You go to it with a vengeance, and this time I don’t hold back at all. The things your mouth do to me are exquisite, and I catch myself moaning your name out loud and humping back against your eager tongue. I am coming in seconds, coming hard and not stopping. My body shakes and shivers with the intensity of the orgasm. I hold your head in place and keep it there as the aftershocks rack through me, curling my toes.
Meanwhile, the ginger root is doing it’s job inside your tender little anus. You are weeping now, shaking, and you stutter the words out: “Banana– Bananarama.”
I decouple myself from your tongue, swiftly removing the stinging piece of ginger and unfastening your restraints.
I kiss you top to bottom, licking tenderly, salving your wounds and your swollen needy parts. Finally I hold you close, kissing you sweetly on the lips.
“I lied,” I say, “About the safeword. You earned an orgasm.”
My fingers find your sex, and I hug you close to me, kissing you as my hand bring you exquisite pleasure, taking joy in your gasps and cries of pleasure as you come in my arms.
We lie together on the bed, naked, wet and sticky, for a long long time before either one of us says anything else.
“I love you.”
It should never have happened the way it did. It really probably shouldn’t have happened at all.
But it did.
I was driving home from school after Math Bowl one cold and raw afternoon in January, when I saw Mr. Stephenson slouching along the side of the road, all six foot seven of him, bent over and huddled down against the bitter wind.
I pulled over and opened the passenger side, and he folded himself gratefully into my car, like a giant origami swan.
His knee pressed up against my thigh, almost certainly because he didn’t have any room, but the contact gave me an instant hard-on.
I had, of course, jerked off to Mr. Stephenson before. But then again, I had probably jerked off to everyone in my school, student or staff, male or female. I was an oversexed teenage math geek.
Choosing to interpret the cramped conditions as flirtation, I placed my hand on Mr. Stephenson’s thigh, a few inches south of the crotch. He responded by putting his tennis racket sized hand on top of mine, and our fingers intertwined. The temperature inside the car rose a couple degrees.
I parked the car in front of Mr. Stephenson’s house, a shabby-looking beige duplex at the end of a cul-de-sac. I could see a promising-looking bulge in the front of his slacks. I leaned over and kissed him on the lips.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“What, fooled around with a student?”
“No, kissed a guy.”
For all that he was a pretty good kisser. It wasn’t exactly my first time. I’d fooled around more than once, at math camp and on sleepovers, with guys and with girls, giggly, embarrassing half-acknowledged gropings. This was a different order of magnitude altogether.
We unfolded ourselves from the tight confines of the car and jogged up the walk to his front door. He fumbled his keys out of his pocket, dropping them on the stoop, rattling them in the lock, before he finally got the door open, and then we more or less fell inside, letting the door slam behind us. I pretty much attacked him, tearing his pants off and freeing his raging cock.
It was bigger than I had imagined, but not so big as to be scary. I thought it looked incredibly sexy. He was uncircumcised, and the livid purple head peeked sassily out from under his foreskin. I started kissing and nibbling him, licking all up and down the shaft and around the head, playing with his balls. He had a nice taste. His dick was so hard it was literally quivering.
Any qualms Mr. Stephenson may have still had about fooling around with an underaged male student were left crumpled up on the floor alongside his trousers and briefs. He reached inside my shirt, rubbing and pinching my erect little nipples as my head bobbed up and down on his cock. It didn’t take him very long. With my lips wrapped around his dick like a big, hot popsicle, I reached under his fat ball sac and tickled his anus, and he shouted out loud, grabbing my hair and crushing me into his crotch, exploding in my mouth, filling my mouth up with hot, sticky, salty-bitter semen. I swallowed every drop.
He sucked my dick next, but I have to tell you he wasn’t really very good at it, not that first time anyway. I ended up straddling his chest and jerking off onto his face as he tentatively slipped one saliva-slick finger up inside my tight and slightly nervous, but very horny asshole.
We fooled around a lot more that semester, but we never actually fucked, for reasons I still don’t quite understand. It turns out Mr. Stephenson had a girlfriend, and I really wanted to do a threesome with her, but he was worried that she wouldn’t be into it, which was kind of ironic, because later on I did end up fooling around with her too. She taught me a few tricks that I still use today.
I guess I expected things to be weird between us after all that, in class and whatnot, but honestly it wasn’t weird at all. Life went on, the world kept turning, and in due course I graduated and moved on.
It almost didn’t happen at all that day. We had planned it out in advance, but then It started to snow, and your husband wasn’t sure he wanted to be out driving in that stuff.
But you convinced him to go anyway.
As soon as I got your text, I felt my pussy start to salivate. I had been playing with my clit all morning, idly browsing porn and thinking about what we were going to do. I sprinted to my car and drove to the mall.
I bided my time, looking in store windows and watching people, bored teens and old folks. I hadn’t worn any panties on purpose, and I felt naughty and very aware of my naked, horny cunt just under my short black skirt.
I caught a glimpse of you and your husband. He looked not at all as I had imagined him: older, dumpier, somehow diminished. Middle-aged. You looked simply radiant.
I saw you talking to him. After a brief discussion, you two parted ways. He went into a sporting goods store. You went into H&M.
About two minutes later you texted me again. That was my cue. I went into the H&M, pulling a few shirts and bras off the racks totally at random, and headed toward the fitting rooms. You were in the last one on the left.
I tapped on the door, and you opened it. I stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind me. This was the first time we had seen each other in person. I dropped my armload of clothes on the bench, and hugged you tight, kissing your pretty lips. I felt your hands on my ass, pulling me closer.
I dropped down on my knees, tugging your panties down. Your pants were already off. We had to be efficient, time was at a premium. I gave your pretty pussy a perfunctory kiss, then dove in, licking up and down and all around, trying to apply all the lessons I’d learned from watching porn and reading dirty stories.
I’d been a little afraid I wouldn’t like the taste, that the flavor of another woman’s pussy would be repulsive to me. I shouldn’t have been worried. You were intoxicating, clean and sexy, musky and feminine. With a little help from your guiding hands, I found your clit, circling your swollen little nub with my outstretched tongue.
I looked up to see if I was doing a good job. You had pulled your bra down, and your big tits bounce free, nipples erect and pointing out in disparate directions, Your eyes were closed, your head thrown back, and you were chewing on three fingers of your own hand. I guessed I was doing ok.
I felt you come. Your whole body seemed to go rigid, and then your stomach pulsated and your pulled me in hard. I couldn’t breathe for a long moment there, but I didn’t mind. Then you lifted me up and we were kissing. Your juices were smeared all over my face.
I turned around, facing the mirror so I could watch what you were doing. It was your turn to get down on your knees. You licked my asshole, just like you had promised in your emails, fingering my pussy deeply as your tongue probed and explored my virgin little hole. I rubbed my clit, savoring the sights and sensations, saving the memories up for later use. I made myself come quickly, resisting the urge to draw it all out, giving myself a silent little orgasm. There would be more later on, after I got home. Maybe I’d make you a video.
I’m not sure how long we had been in there, maybe five minutes. It already felt like too long. We got paranoid; kissed one more time, and then you pulled your pants on, tucked your tits back in, and left the dressing room. I got myself dressed, counted to seventy five, and headed out, dropping the clothes I’d picked up in a cart full of shirts, pants, and bras.
I saw you one more time as I headed for the parking lot. You were walking hand in hand with your husband. He was looking at his smart phone, totally unaware that my come was still drying on your face and fingers, that I was still wet from your affection.
I drove home, touching my pussy in the car as I drove, thinking about you the whole way.
We weren’t even supposed to meet yet, not for another two weeks.
But… the doctor at your office got sick. He came in late, saw two patients, sneezing and hacking and snuffling the whole time, and threw in the towel. “Close the place down,” he said, “Pay yourselves for the day, I don’t care. I’m going home.”
When you texted me, I had just put my son on the school bus. “Of Course!” I replied, “Where can we meet?”
I wound my way down the Taconic, dirty piles of snow looming on either side of the twisty highway, keeping the speedometer needle exactly five miles above the speed limit, fighting the urge to speed like a maniac, like a bank robber, like a cheating husband.
You were already in the donut shop when I arrived. You were sitting in a corner booth, sipping coffee from a paper cup, a multi-colored torus covered with sprinkles sitting untouched in front of you. You looked just as sexy in person as you did in your pictures. I don’t know why that should surprise me, but it did. My cock was hard inside my pants.
I sat down across from you. There was a momentary awkward silence as we both took a breath, preparing to speak. I had never heard your voice and you had never yet heard mine.
“Was the drive OK?”
“It was fine,” I said. “It’s so good to finally see you in person.”
My hand reached out across the table and our fingers intertwined. The awkwardness faded away like a mist off melting snow.
“Let’s get out of here,” you said. “I don’t want to waste any of our time together.”
In your car in the parking lot, out behind the donut store, between the dumpster and the train tracks, I leaned across to kiss you. Your lips met mine like an electric shock. My hand found your thigh, squeezing and caressing as your tongue entered my mouth. We kissed for a long time, I don’t know how long, long enough to fog up all the windows. Your hand started rubbing my erect cock through my pants. I could feel your hot dampness through the fabric of your jeans. My cock was straining hard against its confines, so hard it almost hurt. My hand traveled up, cupping your large, soft breast.
You took my hand in yours, guiding it up under your shirt, inside your bra, where I found your nipple, hot and swollen. I pinched, gently and first, then harder, enjoying your squirms as I nibbled on your neck.
“Please,” you moaned, “Please, please, please…”
Your jeans came down, a wrestling match in the tight confines of the driver’s seat of your car. My own pants came off as well, almost as an afterthought, much easier without a steering wheel in the way. My cock made a giant tent in the front of my boxers. Your bright red panties were visibly wet, almost like you had peed yourself.
You reclined your seat all the way, and I lay my head in your lap. The smell of your sex was intoxicating, your pussy moist and pink and open. I stuck my tongue out, savoring that first taste, the salty musky flavor that is all your own. You made a noise, hands curling in my hair. My tongue found your clitoris, swollen and eager as my fingers probed inside your hungry pussy. You were already moaning, humping back against me. This was clearly not going to take long.
Two fingers up inside your pussy, rubbing hard against that special spot, my tongue pressed hard against your clit, another finger just tickling your asshole. You came, and you came hard, grinding against me, crying out loud as your body bucked and shook. I stayed with you through to the very end.
Finally I came up for air. My face was coated in your juices, my fingers covered in it. I lick my fingers clean, and you kissed my come-slick lips again and again, hand wrapped firmly around my cock.
“Take your shirt off,” I ask, and you comply. Your tits were beautiful, just gorgeous. Now it was my turn to recline the passenger seat, as you opened your mouth to swallow my cock.
The feeling was exquisite. It had been far too long since anyone had given me this kind of attention. Certainly not my wife. Your mouth was hot and wet and eager, your tongue doing acrobatics on my erect dick, swirling around the tip, pushing me closer and closer to the point of no return. As your head bobbed up and down, your hand was busy between your legs.
You looked up at me, my erection straining and bobbing wetly. “I think I could come again,” you said. I knew from your texts and emails that you weren’t usually multi-orgasmic.
It was tricky, in the little car, but we managed. You straddled my face, large breasts pressed against my flat stomach. I had a soft ass cheek in both hands. I cannot believe how wet your pussy is, how beautiful and sexy it looked from this vantage point, so up close and personal.
“Fuck my mouth” you said, “fuck my mouth and put your tongue on my clit, and I’ll do the rest.”
I complied, offering you my tongue as you opened your mouth wide, accepting the length of my cock.
I bucked my hips furiously, fucking your mouth like a wet pussy and you fingered yourself along with me, grinding on my outstretched tongue. It didn’t take me very long to come. I was way too turned on, too excited, too under your spell. I cried out loud, shooting my hot and sticky semen deep into your hungry mouth. You swallowed me, and swallowed again and again.
I could tell you were close as well. You held my softening dick in your mouth as you pressed your hard clit against my tongue, rocking back and forth, close, oh so close, but not quite there yet. I slapped your ass hard, alternating cheeks, and you whimpered. I slip a wet finger just inside your tight little anus, and that seemed to do the trick. You came sobbing, squeezing my head between your thighs until I couldn’t breath, my hand still beating your ass cheeks with all my strength as I struggled to keep my tongue on your clit.
Finally it was all over. Getting dressed in a parked car turned out to be considerably trickier than getting naked. Our bodies were spent and sticky. Big smiles were plastered across both of our faces.
“Wow,” you said, “That was intense.”
It certainly was. I could already feel a tingle in my dick, the beginnings of a new hardness. But the clock had other ideas. We both had to be getting back to our respective spouses, take showers, make excuses. We untangled, kissed, hug and squeeze, and kiss one last time.
The drive back home seemed longer than the drive down. I played the encounter over and over again in my mind; by the time I arrived back at the house, my cock was most definitely hard once more.
Wife was home already, putting groceries away. I was ready explain away my sweat as left over from my workout, your scent blamed on the gym, but and she didn’t even seem to notice my presence.
I pulled the shower curtain closed, letting the hot hot water fall on my naked body, stroking my cock and thinking of you.
Everything is the same as is was before. Except that it isn’t.
It is a solid three hour drive, and I have to stop halfway there at a rest area and pee. I brush my teeth in the parking lot, not wanting to greet you with coffee breath.
We’d been dating three or four months, keeping it deliberately casual. It was one of those classic opposites attract set-ups: I was older, she was younger; she was a medical student, I was an ex-punk rocker and construction worker turned nurse’s aide. I going to night school to become an RN, she was just about to start her residency. I was a bad boy doing my level best to straighten out, and she was a good girl experimenting with her naughty side.
It was, of course, not quite as simple as all that.
We had fun. We knew it wasn’t going to last, but we genuinely liked each other. And we did a lot of really excellent fucking in the meantime.
We got it on every time we got together, which was most days. It was good, old fashioned basic sex, ham-and-cheese sex; a lot of vigorous screwing with a little bit of sucking and licking thrown in now and then as an appetizer. Nothing kinky in the slightest. A couple times when we were fucking I’d slipped a finger between her ass cheeks and started playing with her butthole, and she had silently and firmly moved my hand away. I could take a hint.
She had a killer body. Slim and petite. Lithe, muscular legs that she ran half-marathons with and liked to wrap around my back while we fucked; flat tummy, exquisite little breasts. And an ass to die for, the kind of butt that I could have spent hours worshipping with my tongue. If only she’d let me. But I was sensible to leave well enough alone.
She sucked me off now and then; one time in a nearly empty movie theatre, and one week when she had a wicked yeast infection and couldn’t fuck, sometimes when she had her period, though mostly we just screwed anyway, mess be damned. I went down on her frequently: before sex, as an appetizer, or after sex if she wanted another orgasm; flicking her pink little clit with the tip of my tongue while she squirmed and sighed and melted on my face in the most satisfying way, but I always assiduously avoided the nether regions. Mostly we fucked. She loved to fuck, and she always, invariably came on my cock. We had dispensed with condoms early on, we were monogamous and I had a vasectomy, and I loved to feel her tight little pussy squeezing my cock as she orgasmed underneath me. Or on top of me, depending on the position. It was ham and cheese sex, but there was lots of it, and it was pretty damn good sex.
What she saw in a burned-out old punk rocker technically old enough to be her father I’ll never know. She was a nice girl, smart, and a horny little bunny rabbit; but to all appearances straight as a ruler. Appearances, however, can be deceiving.
We were lounging around in bed in my apartment, mostly naked, getting ready to get it on. It was mid-morning, I’d just come off a gruelling 12-hour night shift, and I was wired and tired. My dick was already half-hard, and her cute little boobies jiggled around like a pair of luscious peaches, juicy-ripe and ready to be plucked.
“What’s the deal with anal sex?” she asked me, straight out of the blue.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are guys so fascinated with it? Does it feel different? Have you ever done it?”
“I have done it before,” I said, “Once or twice. It feels a little different, I guess. But mostly I guess it’s hot because it’s kind of naughty, forbidden, risky-feeling. It’s very intimate,” I added.
I don’t know if she noticed, but my cock had sprung from half-hard to stiff and fully erect as I spoke.
“I think I’d like to try it,” she said. “With you.”
I started out by going down on her. It was always a pleasure to eat her pussy, and she certainly enjoyed it. Normally, I would aggressively lick her clit until she came, and then slide my cock up her wet pussy and fuck her to another orgasm; but this time I kept backing off each time she seemed to be getting anywhere close to a climax. I licked up and down her labia, teasing her clit, until she was wetter than wet, and my face was completely soaked in her slippery juices. Her cunt was wide open, lips swollen, clit straining. This whole time I had been purposefully avoiding my ultimate target, her crinkled little anus.
At a nudge from me, she rolled over onto her tummy, and I spread her delicious firm butt cheeks. It was the first time I’d had a good look at this part of her anatomy. Her butt hole was tiny, pink and tight. It was hard to believe something so small could open up enough to let a poop out, never mind accept a full-sized cock. I stuck my face into her cleft, tongue extended, and started licking, up and down, all around her anus, darting down to her drooling pussy, then back up to her asshole. She moaned, pressing back hard against me.
“Oh my God, that feels so good! I can’t believe we’ve never tried this before!” The tip of my tongue darted up against her sphincter, and I felt her straining back against me. Her own fingers were busy with her pussy, rubbing her own clit. I had never seen her masturbate before, and she got all shy and blushy whenever the topic was raised; she must have been turned on beyond belief at this point.
I decided to take it to the next level. Wetting a finger, first with my saliva, then with her joy juice, I circled her butthole, savoring the appreciative sounds she made as I tickled her anus. Gently, carefully, very slowly, I slipped the tip of my finger up inside. Her asshole clamped down on finger as the first knuckle slid past the tight ring of muscle.
“Ow! Ow! Stop! Take it out!” she squirmed away from me, pulling back in a panic. I removed the offending finger, and she clamped her hands over her butt, eyes squeeze shut.
“Sorry,” she said after a long minute. “I guess anal sex really isn’t for me.”
“It’s ok,” I said.
“Do you still want to fuck?”
I did. And we did. And when I shot off, she came right along with me, her whole body shaking as I squirted my semen deep inside her pussy. But it wasn’t without regrets, not on my part anyway.
“Tell me one of your fantasies,” she said.
We had been watching porn together all afternoon. I had turned her on to the stuff. She’d never looked at porn before, besides one or two giggling glances in high school or college with her girl friends; she was at least as surprised as me to discover she loved the stuff.
She had very specific taste. It had to be amature, no pro stuff at all; with attractive performers, but no surgically enhanced bodies. And she wanted to see them fucking: there had to be good, explicit close-up shots of penis sliding in and out of vagina. That is what turned her crank. We’d be watching together, and I’d slide my hand down her panties, and find her pussy all slippery, juicy and wet. We’d finger and pet and tease each other, and the invariably, we’d end up fucking in front of the computer monitor.
She admitted to me that she masturbated “once in awhile”, but she wouldn’t go into any more detail than that, and I didn’t press her.
“Go on,” she said, “Tell me a kinky fantasy. Don’t be shy.” On the screen, a couple was fucking, hard and fast, a bearded guy was screwing his big-breasted girlfriend from behind, making her tits swing like a pair of wrecking balls.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve always wanted to have a threesome….”
“I think,” she said, “that we could make that happen.” And then she slid her sweatpants and underwear down, and her pussy was glistening and ready underneath her fluffy little patch of blondish pubic hair, and we started fucking in sync with the couple on the screen, and that was that for a while.
After we were done, when we were cuddling, a sweaty and sticky mess, she turned to me, looking serious. “If I set up a hot threesome for you, with another girl,a super hot girl, one who really likes anal, would you do something for me?”
“Sure,” I said. “Anything.”
“Anything, for you.”
And that, in a nutshell, is how I ended up, a few days later, in bed with Elijah. His skin was the brown color of chocolate milk, and perfectly hairless, except for a hint of stubble on the cheeks and chin. We were both a little drunk, and naked to the waist. She was draped across my sofa, dicking around with the laptop, trying to find some appropriate porn. She was a little drunk too.
I don’t know where she found him. I don’t know how old he was, or what he did for a living; I couldn’t even get a vibe from him as to gay or straight or somewhere in between. He was cute though. She had good taste in men, I’ll give her that.
She finally found a video she liked, a cute, chubby tattooed redhead taking it vigorously in the pussy from her well-hung boyfriend. Me and Elijah started kissing.
I’d never kissed a man before, not seriously, and I have to admit I kind of liked it. His lips were rough, his tongue more aggressive than I was used to. I like the way he tasted, and the slight scratch of his stubble. I liked his hand on my chest, in my hair, stroking my cock through my pants. I liked feeling his hardness as well.
The pants came off. I was aware of her watching us, but I was much more aware of him, his body, his hands, his male parts. His cock, I was gratified, and slightly disappointed to discover, was smaller than mine. He was shaved or waxed clean, and circumcised, and hard as ice. Hot ice. We kissed and jerked off together, enjoying putting on a show, touching and caressing, pinching and stroking, each of us daring the other to take it just a little further.
By unspoken, mutual agreement, our hands found each other’s cock. It felt good, strange but good, to have another man’s erection in my hand. His grasp felt nice on my dick, softer and stronger than I would have expected. We kissed, letting our tongues dance and explore, as we slowly stroked each other. I glanced over at the couch, and she was staring intently at us, mouth slightly open, biting down on the tip of her tongue, blondish-red locks a beautiful mess, hand stuck down her own pants. The video on the laptop had come to an end, and she hadn’t bothered refreshing it.
Elijah and I were getting hotter and heavier, jerking each other off faster, more aggressively now. I cupped his tight little brown ass, pulling him closer to me. His breath was coming in raspy little jerks. It wouldn’t be much longer now, not for either one of us.
He came first. I was surprised by the force of it. His whole body went rigid, his back arching. He made a little squeak, surprisingly non-masculine, and I felt his cock pulsate in my fist. Then he sprayed hot semen all over my belly and chest. It was really gratifying.
I didn’t have much time to revel in it though, because as soon as his dick started to soften in my hand, he squirmed out of my grip, slid down my body, and did his God-damnedest to swallow my cock whole.
I was right on the edge as it was, and his hot mouth on my meat, his tongue swirling around my cock head, his wet finger pressing against my asshole was enough to set me off. Hips bucking, I came and came and came, and he stayed with me all the way, slurping me up and swallowing every drop of my come. She came at almost the same time, hand down her pants, head thrown back in ecstasy. Sometimes she was nearly silent when she came, but not this time. She sounded like an old time steam engine, huffing and puffing into the station, whistling and grimacing on overload, ready to explode. It was beautiful to watch, as Elijah and I took it all in, basking in the afterglow of our own orgasms. The evening hadn’t really been what I’d expected, and afterward I wasn’t really sure what to make of it, or how to process it. Weird, and maybe not something I’d choose to do again, but for all that it had been really hot.
Cherry was a big girl, large in every sense of the word. Big personality. Big breasts, big body, big curvy butt, brash and aggressive. She stood a full inch taller than me, and could have kicked my ass in a stand-up fight, no fooling. She was kind of gorgeous, in a very non-traditional and idiosyncratic way. When my girlfriend introduced us, she grinned at me like a hungry she-wolf, showing off two rows of perfect white teeth.
I led the way up to my apartment, the ladies following behind me, four flights up an echoey stairwell.
“You’re boyfriend has a cute little ass!”
“Doesn’t he though?”
“Ever gotten a rim job?” Cherry slapped my butt. “Boy, I am going to lick your asshole out until your head explodes.” My cock, which had been firm and flirting with hardness since we had met up was suddenly straining against my zipper.
No sooner had the door slammed behind us then the girls were all over me, tugging my pants and underwear down, pulling off my shirt, running their hands all over my body, kissing and nibbling and exploring. Cherry took the lead, with my girlfriend taking cues from her.
“Nice dick,” Cherry said, giving my girlfriend a sisterly squeeze. “Why don’t you show me how to suck it?”
My girlfriend got down on her knees, opened wide, and started slurping, closing her lips around the shaft and doing her damnedest to take the entire length of my cock into her hot, wet mouth.
Cherry winked lewdly at me. “That’s fucking hot. Are you ready to have your mind blown?”
She got down behind me, stuck her face between my butt cheeks, and started licking, circling my asshole with her tongue, darting inside, worming her way past my anus, only do dart back out and lick my balls while up front my own girl was slobbering all over my erection.
It was utter bliss, heaven, almost sensory overload. I seriously thought I might die of pleasure. I’m not sure how long this went on, but I enjoyed it while it lasted, two beautiful girls giving me kinky oral treatment from in front and behind. I was just starting to feel the beginnings of a come percolating up from my balls when Cherry stopped short.
“OK,” she said, leaving me gasping and panting, my wet cock straining up and out, purple with frustrated excitement. “That was a pretty good appetizer, but there needs to be some female nakedness right here and now. I need to have a look at those titties, girl!”
When we’d talked about doing this, my girl had said that she guessed she wouldn’t mind making out with another woman a little bit, if it would turn me on. There were no signs of hesitation as she attacked Cherry, pulling her tank top off and exposing her big bouncy breasts, fondling her as they French-kissed. She wiggled out of her own shirt and pants, letting Cherry’s hands rove over her body, eventually unsnapping her bra and setting her smaller firm breasts free. The nipples were hard and pink, and Cherry evidently took great pleasure in pinching and twisting them, harder than I had ever dared.
“YOU,” Cherry said, “Need to lick my pussy RIGHT NOW.” She unsnapped her jeans and peeled them off, exposing her voluptuous lower half, which was sexier than I would ever have thought possible. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her legs were thick and curvy, pale and smooth. Her pussy was tidily trimmed, fat lips pouting out, purple inner labia visibly wet. She lay down on my hardwood floor, spread her legs wide, and my girlfriend, who had never expressed the slightest interest in hot girl-on-girl action, dove right in.
Cherry parted her labia with two fingers, exposing her pink clit. “You know what I want,” she said. “Lick it. Lick it good!”
I watched while my sweet, innocent little girlfriend slurped her pussy, and Cherry narrated. “Oh my God, your girlfriend’s tongue is amazing! She’s licking my clit so good! …mmm yeah, just lick that. Put a finger inside. Yeah, more… play with my asshole… oh yeah don’t stop, keep licking, yeah, just lick that… holy shit, you’re going to make me come. Oh yes, don’t stop, please, yes, I’m going to fucking come all over your pretty little face.. oh fuck yes!!”
She didn’t stop. Cherry was writhing in ecstasy, kicking her ankles up in the air, a fistful of my girl’s reddish blonde hair, pulling her deeper into her cunt. She came, tits shaking, head thrown back, belly spasming, hollering loud enough to rattle windows.
My girlfriend finally came up for air, face wet and flushed and shiny, grinning from ear to ear.
“I need to get fucked now,” Cherry announced, rolling over onto her hands and knees. “You there,” she told me, “Pick a hole, any hole!” She leered back at me, prying her asscheeks apart, revealing a dripping wet pussy and the big brown star of her anus.
I pressed the head of my cock up against her asshole, which opened right up to envelop me. The muscles of her ass squeezed my cock tight, and once again I felt come bubbling up from my balls. I clenched my teeth and curled my toes, willing myself not to shoot off.
“Don’t come yet,” Cherry admonished me, “I want to enjoy this. Don’t even move. I’ll do all the work.” She tightened her asshole for emphasis, squeezing my dick with her internal muscles.
Cherry started sliding back and forth on my cock, sodomizing herself with my erection, deeper and deeper until I was buried completely in her ass, my pubes smashed against her ample buttocks. She’d rock forward until just the head of my cock was captured inside her asshole, then slide back, impaling herself once again. All the while, she was kissing my girlfriend open-mouthed, and playing with her cute little tits while she played with her own pussy.
“Oh yeah,” Cherry said, “That’s the shit! This is going to make me come… I want to feel you shoot off inside my asshole. Fuck my ass now boy, fuck it good and hard!”
And that is exactly what I did, grabbing hold of her big butt cheeks and pounding her ass hard. After all that willing myself not to come, I was surprised that I didn’t come right away, but I didn’t. I could feel the orgasm building though, and it was not far off.
While I was fucking Cherry’s ass, concentrating on my own pleasure, my sweet girlfriend was getting some pleasure of her own. Cherry, grunting throatily every time I humped forward, had her panties pulled halfway off, and was licking at her clit, fucking her pussy deeply with two fingers, another two fingers crammed deep up her ass, all the way up to the knuckles. It’s an image I’ve jerked off to many times since then.
I can’t swear to it, but I think we all came at the same time. My own orgasm, when it finally broke through, seemed to go on and on, rising through me like a tsunami, overwhelming waves of pleasure wracking my body as I pumped my semen deep into Cherry’s hot ass. Cherry was coming like an overheated steam engine underneath me, and I could hear the familiar high-pitched cries of my girlfriend’s orgasm as Cherry finger-fucked her pussy and ass.
I never did get to fuck her in the ass. She did mine, one time, sliding a long wet index finger up my asshole while she sucked me off, a few nights after our threesome with Cherry. It was exquisite, and I think she was gratified with how thoroughly it got me off, shooting with a cry into her hungry mouth as she wiggled her finger deep inside my body.
I also feel like that night was the beginning of the end for us. I’m not sure why, maybe I had just served my purpose with her.
We broke up not long after that. It was pretty adult, not too many hurt feelings, no yelling or screaming, just two people who weren’t going to make it in the long run. I heard that she and Cherry started dating, and I’ve thought about looking the two of them up sometime, but so far I haven’t. Maybe I should. I don’t know. Sometimes it’s best to leave good memories alone.
Dave and Theresa and their three-year old daughter Kate have been staying in our guest bedroom for the last week and a half, while they look for a new house to rent. It has been kind of fun, although I could definitely see it getting old if the stay lasts too long. They are good friends, they are good guests, the kids play well together. And Dave is pretty easy on the eyes; I wouldn’t mind awfully walking in on him in the shower one day. Or him walking in on me. Or maybe Theresa, for that matter; she’s got kind of a nice body.
There is someone in the bedroom. Ordinarily this would concern me, but for some reason tonight it doesn’t. Jake, my husband, is slumbering next to me, snoring softly and steadily; Lela, our daughter, is asleep in her own bed in the adjoining room. The stranger closes the door quietly behind him, and quietly traverses the laundry-strewn floor, all the way over to the bed.
It is Dave, of course. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this happening: this, or something very much like it. He pauses at the foot of the bed, and I can see his tall, slender form in the mostly-dark. There is just enough starlight seeping in through the window for me to see that he is naked, and that his cock, while not yet fully erect, is fat and thick between his legs.
Silently, he lifts up the covers and gently slides into bed, sliding up right between my feet, and my legs part for him like an automatic door. I sleep naked, I always have, ever since I was a girl, and my nude pussy is suddenly sopping wet: hot, slick, and exposed. I feel his breath tickling my sensitive parts. Next to us, my husband stirs in his sleep and we both freeze.
Jake shifts his body and his breathing settles, falling into a deeper sleep. Dave and I both relax, and Dave shimmies up a little higher, nudging my thighs wider apart, until his face is right up in my kitty. His strong hands are on my inner thighs. He sticks out his tongue and starts licking.
I am in heaven! His tongue dances around, exploring, teasing, lavishing affection only to dart coyly away. How long has it been since I’ve had a good, honest-to-god pussy licking? Ages! Certainly since before Lela was born. Jake used to be pretty good at it. Dave is *amazing* at this, and not only that but he is really into it! I chew on my pillow, willing my hips not to buck too wildly, willing myself not to grab him by the hair and mash him into my crotch as his insistent tongue drives me closer and closer to the brink.
He is concentrating on my clit now, my poor long-neglected clitoris. It is almost too much; almost, but not quite. He is flicking that sensitive little button with the tip of his tongue, steady as a metronome, while fingers (how many, I honestly have no idea) plumb the depths of my drooling pussy. I feel a finger pressing against my asshole, and I start to slip over the edge. I raise my ass up off the mattress, offering myself to him, gnawing a ragged wet hole in the red flannel pillow case. When he is done licking, I want him to slither further up my body, and slip that big fat hard dick of his straight up my pussy, husband or no husband. I want to fuck him.
Just as I am about to slide past that glorious point of no return, I wake up. The house is quiet. Jake is snoring next to me. My pussy is wet, my hand is pressed between my legs. The orgasm that was building evaporates and slips away.
I might wake Jake up with a blowjob. I might reach over and fondle him until he’s hard, then climb on top and ride him until we both come. I’m not sure how he’d react if I were to do that. Would he be annoyed? Into it? Would he feel grudgingly obligated? Would he grunt and roll over and pretend not to wake up? I think about slipping downstairs and turning on some porn, but it seems like too much effort, and we do have house guests. I look at the clock. It is almost 3. I roll over and fall back asleep.
I can lick my own pussy. It’s a stretch, but I’m pretty limber, and I’ve been taking yoga for years. I can get my head just far enough down so that I can get the tip of my tongue on my clit. I can’t hold the position; I’m only good for two or three licks at a time, but that’s all I need. I curl up on the bed, like a cat grooming herself. My clitoris is pink and bulbous, straining out. The stretch doesn’t even hurt. My face is right down in my pussy, my swollen, wet pussy. I savor my own smell, my own taste, my sex. It is intoxicating. I lap at my clit, once, twice, three times, while my fingers explore the depths of my pussy. I relax, letting my back straighten up, and then go down again, licking myself, pushing myself closer and closer toward ecstasy. While I am down there, I luxuriate in watching my own fingers fuck myself. It is pornographic, in the very best sense of the word. I wish it were Dave’s cock I was watching slide wetly between my pink and puffy labia. Lick, lick, lick, relax. I take a deep breath and dive in again. I am close, so fucking close. Lick, lick, lick. I wish Dave’s cock was in my ass, and Jake’s in my cunt, and I was sandwiched between the two men; I wish Theresa were licking my pussy, I wish it were Dave, or Jake’s, or anyone’s tongue but mine dancing on my clitoris, bringing me inexorably closer and closer to orgasm. Lick, lick, relax. My fingers are buried to the knuckles in my cunt. I can’t quite get there. I can’t quite come. I could get up and grab my trusty vibrator from my underwear drawer, but that seems like so much trouble and so very far away, and then, fuck! The dream changes.
The shower is hot and steaming, and the spray of water cascading down my body feels delicious. I am just starting to wonder whether I have enough time and privacy to rub one out real quick-like, when Jake walks into the bathroom. Horny disappointment and frustration wash over me, and I feel like I might cry. What the fuck does *he* want in here? Can’t a girl get five minutes of quiet, alone time?
And then I see what he wants. Jake has taken off his sweatshirt, and his pants, and his cock juts straight out, the size and shape of a railroad spike. He pushes naked through the shower curtain, getting down on his knees in the warm, soapy water, and sticks his head in between my ass cheeks.
I sigh, pressing my hands against the plastic wall of the shower stall, the cheap, mildew-ridden one we’ve intended to replace and upgrade for years, but have yet to get around to. I arch my back, thrusting my ass out, offering myself to him.
His tongue parses up and down the cleft between my cheeks before zeroing in on my tight, crinkled, freshly washed little anus, which is suddenly screamingly sensitive and crying for the attention. The sensation is delightful, delicious, unspeakable hedonistic. Even back in the old days of hot-n-heavy sex, this is not something that he has ever done for me. To be fair, I never explicitly asked him to do it, but I have certainly whacked off to the idea more than once.
His tongue is probing deeper, deeper, worming its way up my rear end. The sensation is exquisite. His tongue feels like it is about a yard long, a wiggling, squirming, slippery eel, teasing and tormenting my asshole, sending shards of kinky, deviant, glorious pleasure up and down my spine, making my nipples stiffen and poke straight out, making my clit swell and throb with every perverted lick.
I reach down to play with my clit while Jake eats my asshole out, and discover that in place of a clitoris, I have grown myself a cock. What a delightful development! My hand wraps around my swollen, erect rod, jerking myself off, savoring the new sensations.
I push Jake away before he can make me come like this. He comes up, wet and grinning. I brandish my brand-new erection. I am going to skewer him. I am going to bend my husband over and fuck him up the ass, fuck him deep and hard, make him cry out, and then I am going to come deep inside him. And when I am done, he can get off however he wants. He can come in my mouth, or on my tits, or in my pussy, or in my ass for that matter, wherever he wants. He can even fuck Theresa while I watch, I really don’t give a shit, I am so turned on!
Pale morning light is streaming in through the bedroom window. Jake is already downstairs, making coffee. Is there a term for the female equivalent of morning wood? I have it, in spades. My pussy is slippery and swollen, my clit is irritatingly erect. I can hear Dave and Theresa making morning sounds in the guest bedroom. The kids will be up soon.
I *will* have an orgasm today, by hook or, as they say, by crook. I will.
God damn it.
It has been a long dry spell, and my whole body vaguely aches for it, from the heels of my feet to the root of my cock and beyond. It has been a very long dry spell, for complicated reasons that I won’t go into here, and that I don’t fully understand myself. So when my hot sort-of co-worker Leighla asked me to go to this party with her, I didn’t hesitate one moment. I said “Yes.” Not that I had anything else going on tonight anyway.
Leighla navigates me confidently through an Upper West Side neighborhood that could be in another state, in another country as far as I’m concerned. This is not my New York City, not by a thousand miles. Here, I am the foreigner. Leighla’s skirt swishes as she walks, concealing hidden pleasures within, and I become acutely aware of the balls and penis hanging thick between my legs. We stop at a bodega, and she picks out two pieces of fruit that I do not recognize. She hands me one, and we eat as we walk. It is cloyingly sweet, and the juice runs down my face and sloshes all over my hands and runs down my neck. It makes me think of eating pussy, which makes me think of *her* pussy, and I blush.
I don’t know Leighla well. I don’t, in fact, know much more about her than her name. She works on a different floor from me; sometimes I see her in meetings, or in the building lobby, or sitting on a bench in the atrium, eating lunch out of a battered old X-Men lunchbox, circa 1980. She is attractive in a not-my-type sort of way. Not that I’m entirely sure I even have a type. I suspect that she is out of my league in any case. She reminds me of a tree, maybe a mountain ash: tall and slender and lithe; rooted but always in motion, crowned with a canopy of burgundy curls.
It is not my kind of party, not that I have a particular party type. It’s not my scene, not at all. I lose Leighla almost immediately, and find myself tossed adrift on a stormy sea, full of social flotsam and jetsam. Graduate students and their professors, all talking shop, the dialect of a tribe I am not conversant in. A smug-looking 20-something kid with a epic sideburns, a flannel lumberjack shirt and a John Deere baseball cap is holding court on the couch, surrounded by professor’s wives, regaling them all with some utterly fictional story about hunting deer in the Catskills. Even I can see the size of the bulge in his crotch, and I’m not in the habit of checking out other dude’s packages. The kid is preening like a well-fed house cat, reveling gleefully in the attention, absolutely bubbling over with smug self-satisfaction. I go off in search of a drink.
I do obtain a drink for myself, and set off to do some prowling of my own. I overhear someone whisper that the punch has been spiked with MDMA. This does not unduly concern me.I wander into the kitchen and get cornered next to the refrigerator by a woman ten years older than me, twenty pounds heavier, with a big fat diamond ring weighing down her left hand. She has olive skin and sad, hungry brown eyes, and she is wearing tight black pleather leggings that it looks like she has been extruded into: some industrial process involving pistons and hydraulic rams. Her thighs are thick and soft; her sweater is deep and voluminous. She tells me that she is working on a project to decode the genome of the malayan tapir. While she is talking, she makes flirtatiously aggressive eye contact and fiddles the stir stick in her cocktail suggestively, and I am just starting to think that I may be getting somewhere with her, and that getting somewhere might not be an at all bad thing when Leighla swoops back in.
“Hey, I heard there’s roof access,” she says, deftly cutting me off from Mrs. Horny Geneticist and tugging me along behind her. “Let’s sneak up onto the top of the building and fool around!”
‘Fool around’? I’m not sure exactly what she means by that, but my dick has it’s won suspicions. I follow Leighla, abandoning my new friend to the tides.
This apartment is HUGE. Just enormous, almost an embarrassment. You could fit like 6 of my studios in here, and still have room left over to sublet. None of the rooms seem to have the rumored roof access. There is a fire escape behind the kitchen window, but the way out is obstructed by a jungle of potted plants and dangling Le Creuset pans that appear to have never been sullied by the crass act of actual cooking.
It is late, and the ecstasy likes to dilate time and space. I may have placed my hand on Leighla’s breast as we rounded a corner into another dead end; she may have gently but firmly removed it. Without bothering to knock, we barge straight through a closed door into the master bedroom, and that is when I see him. My young hipster nemesis, of recent couch fame. He has brought a friend along with him, and they are tangled up atop the sheets, sullying our host’s linen. His shirt is off, his chest smooth and pink, decorated with an obligatory tattoo. She is older than I am; tall and blonde and busty, with thick, pale thighs, and just a little bit of a poochy belly bulging over her Vicky’s Secret purple panties, extra high-cut up the sides and sporting a little pink bow front and center. Her tits are big, and if they were probably a little bit perkier fifteen years ago, they are still pretty damn nice. Nipples fat, stiff and pink; pearl earrings and a discrete little tattoo of pink and blue stars on her ankle. Ring on her finger. She is somebody else’s wife. There is a lot of that going around tonight.
Through his tight black hipster jeans, I can clearly see the outline of his cock. Damn, the kid is really hung. Leighla sees it too. She nudges me and grins. All wrapped up in their own thing, they haven’t noticed us yet.
Sweet mercy, it’s been a long time! My brain seethes with jealousy while my less judgmental cock sproings up into an unabashedly erect state. Leighla and I watch the two of them make out on the bed, getting hotter and heavier by the minute, hands and mouths roaming with frenzied urgency, a pair of over-aged horny teens making out on the sly. It is better than any porn video I’ve ever watched. He is slobbering all over her big, beautiful tits, and I am hating his guts.
Her panties come down. Her pussy is shaved bald, puffy lips pouting open, hints of moist pink treasures within. Four eager hands unbutton and remove the kid’s exceedingly tight hipster pants. A fat cock, large and rubbery, disturbingly realistic, held in place with straps and harness, flops free. Below the dildo, his own penis, not exactly tiny, but certainly not large by any stretch of the imagination, points straight out: bobbing up and down like an eager kid in the third-grade class who knows the answer. “Call on me! Call on me!”
She is unamused by his little deception, I can see it all over her face, a frown of reprobation: teacher caught the kid cheating. But she doesn’t say anything; she is also too far gone to stop now. Perhaps that was his gambit all along. They lay face-to-face atop the fancy white linens, naked but for his white socks and strap-on rig; his hands fondling her buttocks, her fingers busy with her own pussy. Leighla takes my hand and squeezes.
“The very least you could do,” she tells him huskily, “is lick my little kitty.”
Apparently, that is the very least he could do. I can almost hear him sigh with the annoyance of the chore. She sprawls on her back across the bed, legs splayed wide open, breasts pancaked. and he crawls in between her thighs and half-hearted laps at her pussy. This is when she sees us, Leighla and I, standing by the door. She raises an eyebrow and makes a wry face. ‘See what I’ve gotten myself into,’ she seems to be saying.
I would have spent a lot longer, and been way more enthusiastic about eating her out, but hey, that’s me and my appetites, and I’ve been deprived lately. Anyway, after a quick two minutes, he comes up with a smug air of completion on his face, apparently feeling like he’s done his duty and is ready for the next act.
She does not argue the point. They roll over and once again he is on the bottom. He still has not seen us. She straddles him, facing us, reverse-cowgirl style. She grins and winks in our direction, grabs his big fat strap-on dildo, and inserts it into her pussy. It slides easily up inside, and she sighs a deep, fat sigh of contentment. She starts riding him, bouncing up and down, grinding back and forth. Her pussy makes sexy slurping sounds as it devours the dildo. She plays with her clit, pinching it delicately between two ladylike fingers as she fucks. His real, undersized but flesh-and-blood penis bounces futilely as they fuck, oozing frustration and pre-come.
Leighla nudges me, then nudges me again. With her eyes, she tells me what she wants me to do. Not exactly my cup of tea, but I do not object.
I climb up on the bed with them, insinuate myself in between his legs, and proceed to suck his cock while she rides the dildo.
This is not the first time I’ve sucked a dick, but it has been a very, very long time; and I was never what you’d call an expert at it. In fact my experience was limited to a brief, mutually-embarrassed week-long fling, my freshman year of college. But, frankly, it isn’t that complicated. Especially with a fairly small and over-excited cock, there really ain’t that much to it.
Thank whatever god you want: my hipster practices good hygiene. He’s clean and freshly washed. His dick feels kind of nice in my mouth. I let it slide in between my lips, alternating swallowing him whole with just sucking on the tip while stroking the shaft with my hand. Her bald pussy is slurping up the dildo right next to my face. The scent of sex is deeply intoxicating, and has an additive effect with the MDMA that is either delightful or excruciating. She is still scrubbing away at her pink, inflated clit while she fucks the dildo. She grins down at me. I lift my mouth off his penis, grin back, press the flat of my tongue hard against the underside of his glans, and jerk him off, hard and fast.
He makes a little “I’m coming” noise, kind of a squeak honestly, and squirts off, right into my open mouth. It doesn’t take bad; it doesn’t taste particularly good either. I swallow it all, and pop my mouth back over his softening cock and suck out the remainder of his salty, bitter semen.
She is grimacing, brow furrowed, bouncing up and down on his dildo with a literal vengeance, scrubbing at her clit like she’s trying to erase a bad word. She needs to come, in the worst possible way. I wet one finger, reach around her backside and part her cheeks, and slip my fingertip just inside her asshole. That was all she needs. It sets her off, and she comes, tits shaking and blushing, abdomen heaving, hair flying everywhere, howling at the top of her lungs. It’s a beautiful sight to witness.
I let his soft little dick slide out from between my legs and crawl off the bed, disentangling myself before things get complicated. More so, that is, than they are already.
My own dick is throbbingly hard, protruding awkwardly from the front of my pants.
There is a little hatch in the ceiling, with its very own ship’s ladder, in the far corner of the bedroom. Leighla and I climb up the ladder, through the hatch, and out onto the roof.
The sun is not quite up yet. We stand at the parapet and look out over the magnificent twilight spectacle of lower Manhattan, ghostly towers rising in the morning mist before us, sunlight just now glinting off the very tallest spires.
Leighla stands behind me, wraps her arms around me, kisses the nape of my neck. Her soft breasts are pressed against my shoulder blades. I can feel her heat, and it makes me ache. A good kind of ache.
She deftly unbuttons my pants, tugs my paisley boxers down around my knees, my cock jutting out like a bowsprit, cooled by the soft morning breeze. She takes my dick in one hand, pumping fast and hard, and, hiking up her skirt, she grinds her pantied crotch against my bare asscheeks while she jerks me off. She rides me hard, kissing and biting the back of my neck, and we come at exactly the same moment, gasping and crying out loud as the sun rises over the East River. My semen jets out in a ballistic arc, spattering down onto the sidewalk five stories below.
We compose ourselves, and together we descend through the hatch, back into the rapidly dwindling party. There is no sign of the hipster kid or his bedmate; my olive-skinned geneticist is passed out on the couch in the arms of another woman. The ecstasy is wearing off now, a lingering tingle in my nose and toes and cock. We slip out the door and down the stairs, and out onto the streets of a city that is just now starting to wake up.
Leighla slips something into my hand just before we part ways at the subway station. Her panties, white cotton with the chemical symbols of the periodic table printed all over. The crotch is soaked through and through. “I think,” she says, looking at me seriously, weighing her words carefully, “I think that you just might be a keeper.”
Je Suis Charlie
Ok, I should elaborate…
First of all, I haven’t been writing much of anything lately, especially not sexy stuff. I haven’t had the time, energy, or inspiration. I have other things going on in my life. Mostly good things, but there you have it. I haven’t gone anywhere, and I am confident that I’ll be back at some point. Just not now.
Second of all, the Paris attacks on Charlie Hebdo really struck a cord with me. I am, after all, someone who writes some really offensive things (and tries to do it well). So yeah, in a way that could have been ME.
Hey, Big Men. Going after a bunch of unarmed cartoonist with AK-47s. Real brave. If they’d shot at US Marines or SEAL Team 6, that is something I could at least *respect*. These douchbags are essentially just bullies, picking on the class clown.
Ever notice that fundamentalists of every stripe and religion all seem to lack any sense of humor?
Hey, Larry Flynt (who’s balls I admire, but who’s pornography I don’t especially like) took a bullet too.
“If a believer demands that I, as a nonbeliever, observe his taboos in the public domain, he is not asking for my respect, but for my submission. And that is incompatible with a secular democracy.” –Flemming Rose
That’s all I got for now. Read the archives, there’s some pretty good stuff in there. If I do say so myself.
See you soon…