Archive for December, 2010

Linguini Puttanesca

I was just pulling the lasagna out of the oven, when I heard the front door open and shut.

“Hi Honey, I’m home!”

That was code.  That particular phrase meant Amy had not come home alone.  My nipples stiffened and my pussy twitched in anticipation.  I wondered what her latest toy would be like.

I set the dish down on the counter to cool and went out into the front room, where they were standing, dripping onto the hardwood floor.  Amy was helping the new girl off with her streaming rain jacket.

Oh, this one was cute! She had a mass of curly blondish-reddish hair that was sweetly straggly and damp at the moment.  She had these enormous brown eyes with long dark lashes.  Her makeup was a little smeared.  She had a curvy figure, and nice meaty hips.  I could see her bra inside her white button-down shirt.  She caught me checking out her bust and looked down shyly.  She was wearing pink corduroy pants.  She was young, college-aged.  Early college aged.  She probably went to the university where Amy taught and I worked.  I wondered if she was a student in one of Amy’s classes.  Most likely.

Did she have any idea what she was getting into?

The dvd I’d ordered had come in the mail.  Amy stuck it in the player while I served up lasagna and poured wine.  Skeevy- looking Eastern European dudes with greasy hair and oversized cocks were skewering various pale-skinned big-bosomed American chicks.  As we all sat on the couch and ate dinner, a pretty young thing was fucked in her mouth, her cunt, and her asshole all at the same time.  To all appearances, she was enjoying the hell out of it.  I know I was.  My panties were sticky and wet, and I was all too aware of New Girl on the far side of the couch.  I was dying to know what was going on inside those pink corduroy trousers.

“Do you guys… uh, watch a lot of this kind of stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” Amy answered, mouthful of hot pasta, “Most of the girl-on-girl stuff is just too softcore.”  A girl on the screen was busy jamming two jumbo cocks up her asshole.  She couldn’t have been older than eighteen.  Where do you learn to do that kind of thing?

Right after dinner, New Girl politely excused herself.  She had class in the morning, she had to study, whatever…  She pulled together her things and hustled for the front door.

Amy got there first, and intercepted her with a kiss right on the lips.  New Girl seemed stiff and shocked at first, but quickly melted into her arms.  They kissed for a long time, standing by the door, lips pressed together, lost in a world of their own.  Amy’s hand found New Girl’s generous ass, and squeezed her through her pink pants.  New Girl wrapped her arms around Amy’s shoulders, pressing herself even closer against my girlfriend.  They looked absolutely delicious together.

Later on that night, we lay in bed together, basking in the warm afterglow of a righteous fuck session.  We were tucked in together like a pair of spoons, her small firm boobs squooshed against my shoulder blades, her tidy black bush pressed up against my butt, one arm draped around me, playing idly with my still wet and slippery cunt.

“What was the new girl’s name again?” I asked sleepily.

“Laura.” Amy sounded smug.

“Do you think she’ll ever come back, or did we scare her away for good?”

“Oh, she’ll be back.  She’s definitely coming back.”

Two days later, Amy didn’t seem so confident about it.  She seemed positively distraught.  Which was kind of ok by me, because when Amy gets distraught, she tends to go on cleaning binges.

That Saturday we were hanging out on the couch in out jammies, sipping coffee and watching old Scoobie Doo cartoons and giggling about Daphne, and what we’d do to her given half a chance, when there was a nervous tap at the door.  It was such a quiet tap I almost missed it, but Amy was all over it.  She sprang the door like a rat trap.

It was Laura, looking cuter than cute in a little purple cami top, soft and baggy blue jeans, and a black beret that was perched on top of her blondish mass of curls.  Her cheeks were all fat and puffy like a chipmunks’, and her nose was a little button.

“Oh, hi Amy,” she said, eyeing me nervously.  (‘Honey,’ I thought, ‘It ain’t me you gotta be worried about.’)  “I was just wondering if I could hang out…?”

Amy went straight into full-on Queen Bitch From Hell mode.  It’s always amazing to watch; it happens so fast, it’s like someone throws a Frankenstein switch inside her.  You could almost see the electricity coursing through her slender body.

“HANG OUT?  You want to hang out?!  Tell you what Sweet Cheeks, I wanna see those titties of your hanging out!”

“Um, I don’t know…”

“Ok, fine!” Amy snarled, “don’t let the door smack your ass on the way out then.”

Laura stood, hesitant in the open doorway.  Her lips seemed to tremble.  Then she sort of half-shrugged, and pulled her cami off over her head.  Her boobies really were gorgeous: grapefruit sized, symmetrical, round and perky, with big pale areola, and little upturned nipples.

Amy contemptuously flicked one of those nipples with her middle finger and I involuntarily flinched.

“Do you want to lick my pussy Laura?” Amy asked sweetly.

“Oh God, YES!”   Laura dropped to her knees right on the doorstep and started fumbling with the drawstring of Amy’s jammies.   A guy walking past on the sidewalk did a double take, took a few steps and did a triple-take.

“Oh no,” Amy said, taking a step back, “You haven’t earned the right to lick my pussy yet.  Why don’t you just come on in?”

Underneath her baggy blue jeans, Laura was wearing a skimpy pair of black bikini panties.  These were soon lying on our living room floor.

Laura stood naked in between the sofa and the tv, looking beautiful and vaguely self-conscious.  I don’t know how she could do that; I can’t deal with being naked in front of strangers.  I even get uncomfortable changing in the gym locker room.

She did have a lovely body though.  Her breasts seemed to defy gravity; she had little ears, full lips; a sweet, rounded stomach, and her fluffy pubic hair was the same golden red color as the hair on her head.  Her legs were thick and shapely.  ‘I wouldn’t mind’, I thought to myself, ‘Exploring those curves a little on my own…’  I realized that I was staring hungrily, and that my pussy was getting all moist and excited.  Fortunately Amy didn’t notice me drooling.  She was really on a tear.

“The first thing you need, Little Miss Thang, is a good sound spanking.”  Amy kind of reminds me of a cat: a sleek, lithe black cat.  She isn’t tall, but she looks it.  Her body is spare, lean, compact, from her petite little boobs to her tight little butt.  She’s an amazing lover, and my best friend, but she’s also a little scary.

“What did I do wrong?” Laura asked, looking a little panicky.

“Oh, nothing in particular,” Amy said, “I just want to put you in your place.”

Laura got down on her hands and knees on our hardwood floor, boobs hanging down, curly blonde hair falling all over her face.  She had a really gorgeous plump pale ass.

SMACK!

And then there was a big red handprint on one of those sweet, virginal cheeks.

“Ow!  Hold on, that really hurt!”

SMACK!

And then there were two livid red handprints on Laura’s butt, one on each cheek.

“Ow!  God, I’m serious.  That really stings!”

“I know.” Amy said, “Now start counting out loud.  If you lose track, we’re starting over.”

Her boobs and butt-cheeks jiggled delightfully every time Amy landed a blow.  Tears were streaming down her face, but Laura kept her teeth gritted fiercely and made it almost all the way up to twenty before she completely broke down sobbing and begging Amy to stop.  Her ass was a mess; rosy red and covered in raised, hand-shaped welts.

Amy gave her a break to go use the bathroom and get cleaned up.

“So whaddya think?” she gushed at me, “Isn’t she just the cutest little thing ever?”

I could only agree, mutely nodding my head so my voice wouldn’t betray me.

When Laura came out of the bathroom, Amy fastened a black leather choker around her neck.  “You’ll wear this” she announced, “As long as you continue to be with me.  It will symbolize your submission and your devotion to me.”

Laura sure looked really fetching, standing there all naked with that black collar around her neck.

When Amy told her to get down on her knees, she knelt, just like a good little slave girl.  Amy had brought our toy chest out of the bedroom.  She selected one, a red silicone vaguely penis-shaped number, and started it vibrating.

“Here you go Sugarplum,” Amy cooed, rubbing the end of the buzzing vibrator up and down Laura’s furry pouting slit, “Open wide!”

She slid the toy straight up Laura’s wet pussy, and I had a fantastic view of it too.  Her cunt seemed to hungrily devour the toy.  I could see her wetness oozing out.  I could see her little pink clit.  It was really fucking hot.

“Now then,” Amy went on, selecting a large chrome butt-plug out of the box, “Do you take it in the ass?”

I wouldn’t have thought it possible for someone to blush when she was kneeling naked in front of a pajama-clad domme and her girlfriend; naked, collared, with a big buzzing toy shoved up her puss; but blush Laura did, bright and red.  “Oh, um… I’ve never…”

“Well now you’re going to…” Amy was slathering the metallic toy in lube.  She spread Laura’s poor abused butt-cheeks apart.  Her anus looked tiny and vulnerable like, well, like a pink little rosebud.  I wasn’t at all sure that toy was going to fit up there.

Amy ran the tip of the toy up and down Laura’s butt-crack, finally pressing it up against her crinkled little asshole.

“Um,” Laura said nervously, “I’m not so sure that things’ gonna fi… EEEEP!!”

Amy grabbed a fistful of Laura’s curly locks, and then jammed the butt-plug straight up her ass.  The red vibrator threatened to pop right out of Laura’s cunt.  “Fuuuuck!”  she reached between her legs, hurriedly sliding it back up inside.

Smiling beatifically, Amy retrieved a bottle of red nail polish from the side table.  “You Lucky Duck,” she addressed Laura, “you get to paint my toenails for me!  Do a nice job now.  And if either one of those toys pop out while you’re working, you can just get dressed and get your sweet tush out of here.  And don’t bother coming back either.”

So we sat on the couch sipping our coffee and watching Velma, Daphne and the gang while poor Laura did an absolutely faultless job of painting Amy’s toes Ravishing Red; at the same time managing to keep her pussy and asshole sufficiently clenched to keep either of the toys from popping out.  I was impressed.

When Laura had finally blown her toes dry, Amy relented.  She removed the butt-plug and vibrator and patted our girl fondly on the head.  “You can get dressed now,” she said, “Be back here tomorrow night at eight.  Don’t even think about being late.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Amy was all over me, practically ripping my pajamas off my body.  “Isn’t she hot?!  Isn’t she sweet?!  Isn’t she sexy?!  And she’ll do anything I tell her to!!”  Amy’s fingers found my cunt, which was, by this time, absolutely drenched.

Her long clever fingers treated me so nicely it would have been selfish not to return the favor with my tongue.  We didn’t even leave the couch until mid-afternoon.

When Laura came by the next day, I was in the kitchen, whipping up a chicken pesto thing with sundried tomatoes and artichoke hearts.  It was a recipe that had been handed down to me from my grandmother.  I turned the gas down to a simmer and slipped over to the bedroom to watch the action.

Laura stood at attention at the foot of the bed, looking soft and lovely and naked in nothing but her black leather collar.  Amy was lounging on top of the sheets in jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Do you want to see me naked?” Amy asked, “Do you want to see my pussy?”

“Oh yes!” Laura replied earnestly, “Oh yes please!”

“Good answer.”  Amy shucked off her tight jeans and stretchy t-shirt.  As usual she was wearing nothing underneath.  Her pretty little labia pouted out underneath her fine black triangle of pubic hair, and her nipples stuck out excitedly.

“Oh my goodness!” Laura gasped, “You look delicious!  I seriously cannot wait to lick that kitty of yours!”

“Well,” Amy said, “You’re just going to have to wait a little longer.”  She got up off the bed and retrieved her whacking stick from the corner where it was leaning.  Amy’s whacking stick is a thin piece of bamboo, about the length of a pool cue, but more flexible.  I’ve seen what it can do, and I winced in advance on Laura’s behalf.

“Here,” she said, handing the stick to Laura, “Balance this on your head… good girl!”

She climbed back onto the bed, spreading her long skinny legs wide, petting her little pussy up and down.  “Like what you see?  Good.  You can masturbate too, you know.  Just don’t come.  One little orgasm and your pretty white butt is out of here!  Here, use this.”

She reached over to the bedside table and tossed Laura one of our vibrators, a pink ridged one with a delicious upward curve to it.  Laura caught the toy, but in the process the whacking stick fell off her head and landed on the floor with a clatter.  Uh-oh.

“Well, that’s one!” Amy stopped fingering herself and lazily licked her fingers clean.  “Would you like it across your tits or on your butt?”  Laura’s behind was a grotesque Rorschach blot of purple and blue bruises from the previous day.

“Um,” she said hesitantly, “on the boobs, I guess.”

“Excellent!” Amy sprung out of bed and picked the switch up off the floor.  “Stand against the wall and clasp your hands behind your neck.”

Laura looked nervously over at me, and then complied.

WHISH! The switch carved an arc through the air.  CRACK!  I grimaced, gritting my teeth in sympathy, but I couldn’t look away.

Laura fell to her knees, clutching her breasts and wailing incoherently.  Amy let her weep and writhe for a long minute.

“Up!” she said, “Get back up.”  She handed Laura the vibrator, and placed the stick carefully back on her head, where it wobbled precariously.  “As you were.  Please, do continue.”  And she climbed back onto the bed, dipping her long fingers back inside her wet, swollen, excited little pussy.

Tears were still streaming down Laura’s face.  There was a livid red line across her breasts, precisely intersecting one of her nipples, narrowly missing the other.  A few scarlet drops of blood leaked out along the edges of the wound.  She was watching Amy masturbate as if she were hypnotized, slowly drawing little circles on her cunt with the humming pink vibrator.

Amy was very obviously enjoying the show.  Her pussy was spread wide open and was soaking wet, the black hairs slick with her juice.  Her clit stood out like a fat pink marble.  She slid two fingers up inside herself, all the way up to the knuckles.  She seemed to savor the sensation.  “Go on,” she told Laura, “put it up inside.”

Laura slid the buzzing toy slowly and carefully up her own pussy.  There was a clatter as the switch fell off her head once more.

“Oh dear,” Amy said, grinning like a cat, “Well, that’s two.  Turn around and face the wall dear.”

Wide-eyed and trembling, Laura did as she was told.  I couldn’t watch.  I closed my eyes.  There was another SWISH! CRACK! and then a piteous howl of misery from Laura.  When I opened my eyes she was once again standing at the foot of the bed, trying to get the whacking stick to balance atop her head.  Amy had three fingers up her own juicy pussy and was rubbing her clit delightedly.

Laura achieved balance with the switch, and again picked up the vibrator and carefully inserted it.  Her own pussy was literally dripping wet.  A long, silvery strand of come leaked out of her like a spiders’ web.

I couldn’t watch any more.  I left the bedroom and went into the study and turned on the computer.  I sat down to do some writing and tried to ignore the noises coming from our bedroom.  Amy is the most multi-orgasmic girl I’ve ever met, and she can be quite vocal about it.  Some of the screaming was Amy getting off; the other thinner, more ragged screams were the suffering of Laura.  It was distracting, to say the least.  I couldn’t write a damn thing, so I gave up trying and just surfed porn.

A fully-dressed and defeated-looking Laura emerged from the bedroom a couple hours later, followed by a naked and triumphant-looking Amy.  “Come back Friday morning!” she told Laura brightly, “And do try not to sit down too much between now and then!”

She turned to me: “You.  Bed.  Now!”

I swear, that woman has the tongue of a freaking iguana!  She knows exactly how to lick me, and which buttons to push.  I was already turned on, between the internet porn and the scene she and Laura had just done, I was really primed; and Amy made the most of it.  She licked me inside and out, had me begging her to finish me, and when she finally brought me off, it was explosive.  I collapsed on the bed underneath her, a big sweaty sticky mess.

“Oh My God that was so hot!” Amy lounged next to me, curled up against my body like a housecat.  “I think I’m going to make her shave her head.”

“Oh Amy, but she has beautiful hair!”

“Well yes she does, doesn’t she…  We’ll give it to a cancer survivor for a wig.”

“That’s horrible!  Why would you do that to her?”

“Because I can.  It’s so sexy!  I’ll shave her head,” she said decisively, “and then I’ll fuck her up the ass with my strap-on.  And then maybe I’ll let her lick my little kitty.”

Man, Amy really was hell on wheels.

On Friday morning when Laura showed up, I kept myself busy in the kitchen.  I tried to ignore the noises emanating from the bedroom.  My pussy, however, refused not to listen.  My clit was obnoxiously swollen and perky inside my pants.

I heard Amy go to the bathroom.  “Oooh Laura, could you come in here for one second?” she called sweetly.

“I tried to pee standing up,” I heard her say, “and I guess I made a bit of a mess… would you be a dear and clean up for me?”

“No!  Not like that!  Silly girl, put the sponge down.  Now get down on your knees and use your tongue… that’s a good girl!”

Amy poked her head into the kitchen, fully-dressed and chipper looking.  She had a lecture class that afternoon.  “I’ve got to go teach.  Would you mind handcuffing our play girl to the coat rack in the closet for me when she’s done?”

She kissed me on the cheek and squeezed my boob.

“See you later on,” I said, “Good luck!”

Laura was down on her hands and knees next to the toilet.  There was a good sized puddle next to the toilet.  Laura was actually licking the black tiled floor.  Amy’s an amazing woman, she has an incredibly hot body and she’s a tornado in bed, but I can’t imagine putting up with that kind of crap just to sleep with her.  But then again, she’s never asked me to.  She calls me her little vanilla cookie.

A dildo with a long horsehair tail was buried in Laura’s butt.  It waved fetchingly whenever she moved.  The bruises on her bottom were fading, but a half-dozen wicked lines from the whacking stick criss-crossed both buttocks and looked like they’d be marking her for a while still.

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” I said, “Come on, have a cup of coffee.  I’ll clean that up with a mop later on.”

Laura looked up at me gratefully.  Her frizzy blonde hair had fallen forlornly across her face.  “Really?  That would be so awesome…  Do you have any herbal tea?”

I made myself another cup of joe, and brewed Laura a hot cup of Lemon Zinger.  We sat together in the kitchen.  She was still naked, and she still had the dildo crammed up her ass.  My clit wasn’t about to let me forget it either.

“So,” she said, “are you going to handcuff me in the closet now?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“Gosh,” she bit her lip and stretched, which made her boobs stand up even more.  The purple bruise from Amy’s stick looked somehow deliciously sexy on her big round tits.  “You know, I haven’t had normal sex in so long, I don’t even remember what it feels like…”

“You mean with a guy and a penis?”

She looked me right in the eye.  “You know what I mean.” She unfastened her black collar and set it on the kitchen counter.

We tumbled into bed together.  She was naked and I was dressed.  Laura seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in undressing me.  She grinned and giggled and kissed me all over as she removed each article of clothing.

I hadn’t touched another woman at all in the three years that Amy and I had been dating.  It was shockingly different with Laura.  She was all softness and curves, gentle sweet tenderness.  This in contrast to Amy, who was firm, lithe, and aggressive, like a weasel in heat.

The way she lavished affection upon my breasts when she pulled my bra off made me feel like a supermodel.  And when she finally got around to removing my panties, it felt like somebody had melted ice cream inside them.

At last, she laid that curly blonde mop of hair on my lap and very sweetly started licking my pussy.  What she was doing felt absolutely heavenly, but she didn’t know her way around my body like Amy did, and for a while I wasn’t sure she was going to be able to make me come.  She kept flicking my aching straining clit with the tip of her tongue, punctuated with slurps up and down my sopping wet pussy.  It felt incredible, but it just wasn’t going to push me over that edge.  She looked so cute doing it though!  I adored the way her horsehair tail wagged as she licked.

She switched techniques, coming up grinning and sticky from between my legs.  She inserted one finger in my asshole, something that Amy never does, and slipped two fingers up my cunt, and started fucking me hard and fast, making a kind of ‘come hither’ beckoning motion with her fingers as she banged me.  That totally pushed me over.  Laura saw me coming and started fucking me even harder, fingers buried deep in both my holes, tits swinging wildly.  Her enormous brown eyes were locked on mine as she worked.  I came hard, moaning and writhing, my toes curling and my breath coming in ragged little gasps.

Then I went down on her.  It was weird to taste someone other than Amy.  Laura tasted different, sweeter.  She was different.  Same species, different flower.  I put my all into licking her out, and she responded beautifully, spreading her legs impossibly far apart for me, running her fingers through my hair, bucking and crooning softly.  I very nearly made her come on my face, but she had other ideas.

She lay on her tummy, and I knelt over her.  I had one hand under her pelvis, where my fingers lay on her horny little clit; the other hand grasped the dildo in her asshole.

I fucked her ass hard with the dildo, harder than I would have thought possible, and let her slippery clit just glide all over my fingers.  Laura buried her face in the pillow and came and came, like a runaway freight train on a steep downhill grade.

When it was all over, we took a shower together and got dressed.  Amy was due back from class soon.  Laura gave me a big hug and a kiss and said goodbye.  I saw her a few times, over the next couple years around campus, but we never spoke to each other again.

When Amy got home and saw the slave collar on the kitchen counter and nobody shackled up in the closet, she asked me what had happened.  I told her the truth; that Laura had left and hadn’t told me where she was going.

“Oh well, her loss.” Amy sighed, and promptly went on a cleaning binge, fishing the vacuum out and going at the rugs with a vengence.  One of the many fringe benefits to living with Amy is that our apartment could pass the white-glove test any day of the week.  “Pity,” she sighed again, “I was looking forward to getting a workout with my strap-on tonight.”

“Well you still might get one!” I said, wiggling my butt seductively.

“Oooh goody!” she smiled, “I love you!”

Amy hugged me hard and I squeezed her back, feeling only a little bit like a cheating, two-timing whore.

“So,” she asked, her hands still cupping my ass, “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Linguini puttanesca.”

“Mmm.  Delicious!”

END

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Birthday Brunch

“Old… Used up… All alone…”

It was my first birthday as a single man, the first birthday I could remember that I’d be spending on my own.  I sluggishly rolled over and looked at the clock.  8:30. Too early to start drinking?  Well, I sure didn’t feel like jerking off.

From somewhere across the bedroom floor, my phone jangled obnoxiously.  I stumbled around looking for it, before I retrieved it from the pocket of the pants I had been wearing yesterday.  It was a number I didn’t recognize.  Who the hell would be calling me? Especially at this hour on a Saturday?

“Hi!” The voice on the other end was female and chipper.  “What are you up to this morning?”

“Wallowing.”

“Aww, don’t do that.  Get up!  Get dressed!  We’re taking you out for brunch!  Meet us over at Union Square in half an hour.”

“Um, who is this?”

“Kira!  …from work?  Get your pants on!”

Kira from work was kind of a friend of mine, a friend in that we were friendly to each other at work, but we’d never hung out before.  She worked in the IT department, and I’d always kind of assumed she was a dyke.  She was a pixie of a girl who looked tinier than she really was.  She biked to work every day, and carried a big olive messenger bar with punk rock stickers plastered all over.  She had short, spiky hair that changed color on a daily basis, and a tattoo of a risqué art-nouveau wood nymph on her shoulder (it peeked out from under her t-shirt, and when I’d asked her about it, she had yanked off her shirt and shown me the whole thing.  Definitely not a work-safe tattoo.)  Her brown eyes flashed whenever she was excited or angry.  She reminded me of a wood elf.  I always found myself double checking to see if she had pointy ears.

Well, what the hell.  I pulled myself together, took a shower and scraped the stubble off my face, and hauled my skinny white butt over to Union Square.

They were waiting for me.  Kira was wearing forest-green pants and a black stretchy t-shirt that emphasized her perky little boobs.  Her hair was freshly copper-colored, and her eyes sparkled wickedly.  Once again I had to check for pointy ears.

She’d brought two friends with her: Mitch, another guy from the IT department, outrageously tall and skinny and pale; and his girlfriend Faye, a roly-poly blonde girl with soft curly locks, big boobs that threatened to fall out of her flannel shirt, a large round butt, and a big honest smile that pushed her from frumpy all the way into the realm of beautiful.

“So how old are you today, man?” Mitch asked me.

“Old,” I responded, “older than dirt.”

“Oh, cheer up, Grumpypants!” Kira interjected, “You don’t look a day over forty!”

We walked south, and a few blocks east, and ended up at a French Café that was only just opening up.  We were the only customers.

They sat us at a big round booth in the corner.  The waitress, a skinny girl with black hair, high cheek bones, multiple earrings, and a charming French accent, took our order.  Coffee and Bloody Marys all round.  She went away to get our drinks.  She had a sassy little French ass inside her faded blue jeans.

“Excuse me for a second” Kira said, and then she disappeared under the table.

‘What…the…fuck…?!’

The words flashed dumbly through my brain as Kira elbowed her way between my knees and started tugging at my zipper.  Mitch and Faye appeared to be smirking as if they were in on a joke.  Down underneath the table, Kira had successfully gotten my zipper down and was working on extracting my cock.  I was too flabbergasted to even begin to be hard.

She sucked it into her mouth like a floppy wet noodle.  I jumped, and Faye giggled.  Just about then our waitress came back with a tray of drinks and asked if she could take our order.

Mitch and Faye ordered omelets.  I managed to stammer out that I’d like French toast.  I definitely had an erection now, and Kira was doing her level best to devour it.  The waitress looked questioningly at Kira’s empty place.  “Our friend will have the pancakes.” Faye said.

As soon as the waitress’ back was turned, Kira was pulling hard on my pants.  I lifted my butt up slightly and *whoosh* my pants and boxers were yanked down around my ankles.  I experienced the very odd and unusual feeling of being completely naked from the waist down in a very public setting.  A cool breeze wafted over my saliva-wet privates.  I didn’t get much time to dwell on my predicament.  Kira immediately went back to work down there, apparently attempting to swallow my cock whole.

Mitch and Faye seemed to be enjoying the various expressions pass across my face.  They placidly sipped their Bloody Marys and watched me squirm.

What Kira was doing was driving me absolutely insane. She was playing me like a musical instrument, alternately stroking my shaft light and fast like the wings of a butterfly until I was just about to explode; and then dropping the tempo right back down, licking up and down the length of my dick and swirling her tongue around the head.  She’d shower my entire penis with kisses, gently nibble and kiss my ball sac, nuzzle her way into the darker territory of my taint, before popping up and trying to jam my cock all the way down her throat.  When she did that, it was very difficult for me to not reach under the table, grab her head, and start humping her wide open mouth.  I think Mitch and Faye were picking up on that, judging by the amount of tittering that was coming from their end of the table.

I was lolling in ecstasy.  Just about the time that I was giving in to Kira’s tormenting pleasure, just as I was about to shoot off into her mouth the next time her tongue so much as brushed the head of my cock, our pretty French waitress showed up with the food.

“Ees everything ok?” she asked with a quizzical smile and a painfully cute accent, “You haven’t touched your drink.”

When she bent over to give me my French toast, I got a tremendous view of her cleavage.  She smiled broadly.  “Bon Appetite!”

As soon as the waitress was gone, Kira popped up from under the table, grinning from ear to ear like a well-fed cat, leaving me hard, wet, and flopping.  She downed her drink in one long gulp, and attacked her pancakes  like a woman on a mission.  My head was spinning, and my mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish “Wha…ah…wah..?”  It took me a second to realize that Mitch had disappeared.

I didn’t have much time to wonder where he’d gotten to.  A hot, wet mouth enveloped my straining cock, and I sighed aloud.  The girls giggled delightedly.

Ok, so if it was weird having my dick sucked by a dude, my dick was still being sucked, and the whole situation was over the top weird anyway, so I was slightly surprised to discover it didn’t bother me in the least.  Mitch had a very different technique from Kira.  He kept his mouth on my dick and bobbed up and down, squeezing the base of my cock, cupping my balls with his other hand.  It felt so good I caught myself bucking back against his mouth.  His cheeks were scratchy against my inner thigh.  Kira reached over and squeezed my hand.

Just as we were starting to get into a really good rhythm with each other, Mitch abandoned my cock, leaving me humping against air.  He popped up, and Faye took his place under the table.

Her method was much more sensual.  She licked languidly up and down the quivering, swollen length of my cock, lingering around the pee hole before tracing the vein down the underside and carefully taking my balls one by one into her mouth.  She licked hypnotically up and down my cock, up and down and around and around.  I couldn’t help myself; I reached down under the table as discreetly as possible, and cupped her large warm breast.  It felt nice in my hand, soft and firm.  I could feel the nipple stiffen under her shirt.  How long had it been since I’d touched a real live breast?

And then Faye swallowed me.  I felt my cock slip all the way down her throat, felt her muscles caressing me, felt her nose pressed up against my pubes, her straining lips mashed around the base of my cock.  I moaned out loud.  She lifted her head off me, and came up from beneath the table, smiling and coughing.  Kira, whose plate was now clean and empty, ducked back under.

Her mouth was still warm and sticky from the real maple syrup.  Down under the table, she was working with a renewed sense of purpose.  She had captured the head of my cock inside her mouth and was sucking hard, working her tongue all over the underside of my head, while one hand jerked me off hard and fast.  I surrendered to the pleasure, throwing my head back and humping back against her mouth in time with her pumping.  I didn’t care who knew, who could see.  It just felt too good, and I just wanted to come in her mouth.

Perversely, my body was having a hard time letting go.  Maybe it had just been teased too much for too long: even though I was balanced on the razors’ edge, even though I desperately wanted to, and Kira was clearly trying to make me, I couldn’t quite come.  It was exquisitely frustrating, sweet torture.

Between my legs, she gurgled and choked, switching hands for a better grip.  I spread my knees wide apart, giving her room to work.  Mitch and Faye were staring openly now, totally rapt.

I looked up and realized that the entire staff of the café was lined up over at the bar, watching us: both of the waitresses, the hostess, the cooks, the Mexican dishwasher; they were all intently following the action like a key soccer match.

While her mouth kept up the intensity on the head of my cock, and one hand kept pumping me hard and fast, Kira slid her free hand under my naked butt.  Her fingers probed in between my cheeks, searching, searching until they found what they were looking for.  Her slender finger penetrated my tight asshole, piercing and stretching me, burrowing deeper and deeper up my ass.

“I’M COMING!” I blurted out, “OH SHIT, I’M COMING!!  OH! Oh, Oh… Oh… Ah…Ahhhhh”

The rush of pleasure was so intense, I had never had an orgasm that strong before.  It started in my toes and flooded through me, all the way up through my ears.  My entire body twitched and shook as my cock pumped into Kira’s hungry mouth.  She stayed with me the whole way, and then some, drinking me until there was nothing left to drink.  I felt like I must have squirted about a gallon of come into her, and she took it all, every last drop.  It was the most incredible thing I had ever felt.

Finally I was done, slumping limply in my seat.  Kira let my soft penis slip out of her mouth, and gently extracted her finger from my anus.  She came up from beneath the table, her copper hair a wild case of bed-head.

“Happy Birthday!” she said.

The café staff gave us a long and exuberant round of applause.  I would have died of self-consciousness at that moment, but I was simply to happy to care very much.  I slurped my Bloody Mary and devoured my French toast, which was by now stone cold.

When my plate was empty, our waitress came back to the table.  “Ees there anything else I can get you today?” she asked.

“No thanks,” I said, “Just the check please.”

“Ees your birthday today, non?  There ees no charge.  Your breakfast ees on zee house.”

We thanked her profusely and left a big tip.  I pulled my drawers and my pants up over my wet and tired junk, and we all got up to go.  As we were walking to the door, the waitress ran up to me, gave me a hug, said “Happy Birthday”, and slipped a piece of paper into my jacket pocket.

Mitch and Faye headed off together, on business of their own.  Kira walked over to the train with me.

“I hope that wasn’t too weird?” she asked.

“No!  That was awesome… best birthday present ever!  I had no idea…”

“So then I’ll see you at work on Monday?” she said, “Unless you felt like hanging out or anything tomorrow?”

“Sure!” I said, “I don’t have any plans.  I’d love to hang out!”

“Ok!” her eyes flashed happily.  She gave me a big smile, hugged me quick and tight, and then she was gone, disappearing away into the sea of people on the crowded sidewalk.  She had a cute little butt in those green pants, and it twitched when she walked.

I felt like I was glowing.

Down in the train, I fished out the slip of paper the waitress had slipped into my pocket.  I had forgotten all about it, rediscovered it when I was searching for my Metrocard.

It was a piece of register paper with a name written on it: ‘Marie’, and a phone number. ‘Call me’ it said, and it was punctuated with a little smiley face.

Maybe I would.

END

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Great Aunt Matilda’s Magic Wardrobe

“Your Great Aunt Matilda just passed away, you know.”

My wife and I were up from the city on one of our regular weekend visits to the retirement community that my mother had moved to after my father died.  She delivered the news about Great Aunt Matilda in an offhand way as she poured Elka and me lemony herb tea out of a delicate antique floral teapot.  Maybe that’s how you know you’re getting old:  you chat about who’s died recently.

I hadn’t thought about Great Aunt Matilda in years and years.  When I was in my early teens, I had spent the summer at her house in Vermont.  It had been quite a revelatory time.  Since then I had seen her a few times at family gatherings; wedding, funerals and the like, but I had never worked up the nerve to talk to her.

“Now that’s sad news,” Elka said as mom shoveled heaping spoonfuls of sugar into her steaming teacup, “What did she die of?”

“Oh, nothing in particular” My mom ritually offered me sugar for my tea, which I ritually refused.  “She just went quietly in her sleep.  Lucky old bat.  She was ninety-one, you know.”

******

This was thirty years ago.  It had been decided that it would be good for me to spend my summer vacation in the country, away from the heat and smell and noise of New York City, and maybe not coincidentally away from the neighborhood kids and my school friends. It was thought that it would be healthy for me to see a little nature, hug a few trees, and to broaden my horizons.

That was also the year that, as if a light switch had been thrown, girls had gone from being weird and annoying to fascinating and desirable, and sex transformed from a slightly embarrassing and rather abstract biological discussion into a full-blown obsession.

On the train out of Penn Station, I sat and rued my lot in life.  I rued Shannon Kelly from my class who lived on 168th Street and had just sprouted breasts; I rued all the beautiful girls of New York and their skimpy summer skirts; and I rued the stack of Playboy and Penthouse magazines that I had purchased from my not-exactly friend Rory for twenty-five dollars, and which were currently stashed in my closet underneath a pile of Mad and Dragon magazines, hopefully safe from prying eyes.

Great Aunt Matilda met me at the train station in Vermont.  She was an imposing lady: sixty-ish, thin as a willow branch with severe grey hair done up in a tight bun.  She was wearing a long, fancy-looking, form-fitting grand purple dress, and her breasts made two prominent bumps in the front like a pair of tangerines.  She had been smoking when the train rolled in, and she squelched the butt under a shiny black high-heeled boot.  She looked about as out of place in the quaint rural train station as I felt.

She drove me back to her house in her enormous black Cadillac.  We tried to make friendly ‘getting-to-know-you’ conversation on the way, but it was stilted and awkward and quickly faltered.  The gulf between our two worlds was too wide to be bridged so easily.

The house was a huge rambling old Victorian mansion, slowly going to ruin.  Great Aunt Matilda had lived alone there since her husband had died some years before.  The place had once been magnificent, and it was still imposing, but it also looked somewhat shabby and unkempt, like a former supermodel who is past her prime and has taken to drinking too much.

Where Matilda had come by her money was a family mystery.  My mother always sniffed that she had married money; but my grandma denied that, hinting at more mysterious, darker sources of Great Aunt’s wealth.  Whatever the truth was, I never found out.

Great Aunt Matilda and I quickly came to an unspoken understanding: we would breakfast and dine together, and in all other matters we would stay out of each others’ hair.  This arrangement worked just fine for me: while Great Aunt Matilda hosted luncheons and went to fundraisers and lectures, I explored the vast property the house sat on.  I got wet and muddy and scraped-up climbing trees and mucking about in the brook, I climbed the little mountain behind the property; and when it was raining or too hot and humid and buggy to be outside, I explored the inside of the house.  It was, I was forced to admit, a lot of fun.  The only thing I was lacking (aside from company, which I found I didn’t really miss that much) was masturbation material.

One night, when it was too hot and humid and I was too horny to sleep (my bedroom was in a turret, and I could see the big thunderstorm rolling in… how cool was that?!?) I went exploring in search of dirty books.  Great Aunt Matilda was a great collector of books.  She had thousands of them gathering dust in forgotten rooms around the house; it stood to reason that at least a few of them must have steamy sex scenes.

On the truncated third floor of the east wing, I let myself into a room I had never been in before.  It might have been an old servants’ bedroom, or a pantry, or possibly just a big closet.  I almost left without entering, because the only thing in the room was an enormous wardrobe made of richly carved dark wood.  I thought I heard a noise.  It might have been thunder in the distance, or it might have been something else, something closer.  I decided to investigate.

The wardrobe was truly huge.  It was about the size of our apartment back in New York.  You could have parked a Volkswagen in there.  Above the big double door, carved in intricate relief, randy satyrs and buxom wood nymphs frolicked in postures that were just short of obscene.

I tried to open the door.  It was locked.  But once again, I thought I heard something.  I pressed my ear to the side of the wardrobe.  Soft, as if it were a long way away, but unmistakable, I heard grunting, heavy breathing, the slap of flesh-on-flesh, the moaning, rising cries of someone approaching orgasm.  I held my breath, my young cock instantly erect.  I heard a sharp *smack* and a muted scream, and then the gasps and wails became more intense, more immediate.  I slipped my hand down the front of my pajama bottoms and grasped my cock.  This was closer to sex than I had ever been in my life.

A great clap of thunder burst overhead, literally shaking the house to the foundations.  All was silent inside the wardrobe.  I lost my nerve, exiting the room as quickly and quietly as I dared, then running back to my bedroom in the turret.

The storm burst in full force, rattling the windows and pounding the roof as I jerked off under the covers.

*

The next morning at breakfast Great Aunt Matilda was looking somewhat haggard and rather distracted, and over French toast she asked me if the storm had kept me up all night as well.  I was antsy and fidgety, and excused myself from the table as soon as I had wolfed down the French toast and gulped my orange juice.  From the parlor nook, I quickly and quietly made winding my way over to the east wing and the strange deserted wardrobe room.

It stood there, an ominous imposing monolith on the wide plank floor.  I hesitantly walked up to it and tried the door.  It was unlocked.  Not really knowing what I was looking for, I opened the door and stepped inside.

“YO! GET THEM PANTS OFF AND SHOW ME THAT SKINNY WHITE BUTT! Come on bitch, bend over!  I ain’t got all day!”

It was the biggest black man I had ever seen, bellowing at me out of the dark.  He was obviously a body builder; his muscles seemed to have muscles growing on them.  He was wearing tight black jeans, and I could see his erection clearly outlined even in the dim light of the inside of the wardrobe.  He was naked from the waist up, his brown skin glistened with sweat.  His head was shaved, and he had freaky Maori tattoos on his face.  When he saw me, he stopped mid-bellow and did a double-take.

“Oh, excuse me.  I thought you was somebody else.”

That was plenty for me.  My skinny white butt turned tail and ran, slamming the doors behind me.  I ran all the way out of the house, all the way down to the little brook in the woods, where for a while I threw rocks at rocks and tried to pretend that I was just a little kid again, and not a sex-obsessed, horny teenager.

That, of course, did not last.  Within an hour I was slinking back to the low-ceilinged east wing.

I crept back into the spare, nearly empty room and approached the dark looming wardrobe.  Trepidatiously, I opened the door and stepped inside.

I found myself face-to-face (or rather face-to-chest, as she stood at least eight inches taller than me) with Miss February.

Miss February was my favorite of all the centerfolds, because out of all of them she looked almost like she might be a real human being.  Her breasts were big and full rather than simply enormous.  She had pale, almost translucent skin rather than a creepy full-body tan.  Her hair was on the short side, and thoroughly hairsprayed into rigidity, but there was something playful about the way one lock kept falling in front of her eyes and had to be brushed aside.

At the moment she was wearing a green silky-satin thing that was draped over her body in such a way as to just barely cover her salient bits.

“Little Mister,” Miss February purred, “I am going to rock your world.”

I realized that I was now in a small, dim room with a shag carpet of non-descript color and a black leather couch.  Miss February bit her lower lip sexily and let the green silky thing fall to the ground.  She stood naked before me, every detail exactly as I remembered it from the glossy magazine.  Her breasts were large and full and slightly upturned, her nipples were small and pink and erect.  That pesky lock of hair had once again fallen in front of her eyes.  Her stomach was gently flat, her belly button was deep and perfect, and just below that was a barely visible thin white horizontal line that I only realized years later was the scar from a c-section.  (You couldn’t see that in her photo spread; I checked later.  They must have airbrushed it out.)  Her legs were long and slender and shapely smooth, and between her thighs was a perfect triangle of soft, tangled golden hair.

My dick couldn’t have been any harder if it had been forged from meteorite steel.

“Are you going to get undressed Little Man?  Or should I help you?”

Not waiting for me to reply, Miss February reached down and pulled my t-shirt off over my head.  She then dropped to her knees before me, and with practiced ease she unbuttoned my jeans and sent them sliding down around my ankles.  She hooked her thumbs under the waistband of my underpants, and with a swift yank they were down and my dick was out, bobbing merrily, almost smacking her in the face.

“Ooooh, very nice!” Miss February purred, sticking out her tongue and licking that sensitive piece of meat as if it were a candy cane.  The sensation of her tongue contacting my penis made me shiver all over, and she grinned at the reaction she had caused.

My cock wasn’t that impressive at that point; I still had some growing to do, but I swear it had gained an extra inch just from her attention.  She licked it again, and again, playfully dragging her tongue up the length of my quivering dick, making me stand on my tip-toes, making me shiver again and again.  Her tongue darted out and played with my balls and I moaned out loud.

“Do you like these?” she asked, proffering her big tits to me.  I nodded dumbly, and she wrapped her breasts around my straining cock, two giant warm pillows.  She took my hands and placed them on her big soft boobs.  I was in absolute heaven, squeezing and caressing those beautiful tits while rubbing my aching cock in between them.

Miss February smiled up at me.  Her two front teeth were slightly crooked; you couldn’t tell in the magazine pictures of her, they must have fixed that with Photoshop, but it somehow made her even sexier.  “Come on Tiger,” she said, “I am just dying to pop your cherry.”

She had me lay down on my back on the leather couch, my cock sticking out at a forty-five degree angle like the Iwo Jima flagpole being raised.  Sticky, clear fluid leaked copiously out the swollen end.  She climbed aboard, straddling me, eyes closed.  I could feel her wetness on my thighs as she rubbed herself against me, playing with those sexy pink nipples.

After a few minutes of this she opened her eyes and met my gaze.  “You have no idea,” she said with a girlish smile, “how much I am going to enjoy this.”

She raised herself up onto her knees, grabbed my cock confidently in one hand, parted her pussy lips with her other hand, and slowly and very deliberately lowered herself onto me.

It was pleasure beyond imagining: hot, wet, soft, tight, firm, slippery.  I arched my back, fucking back up into her heavenly pussy.  I felt her pubic hair press against mine, her butt resting on my thighs as she sighed “Yesssss” and pulled hard on her nipples, grinding her crotch wetly onto mine.

I had just enough time to think (or shout) “Holy Shit!  I am actually having SEX!!” and then I was coming, coming in exquisite ecstasy, my body shaking and convulsing as I pumped what seemed like gallon after gallon of sticky white come into her pussy.

Miss February stayed with me until I went limp and started breathing again, and then she carefully disconnected herself from me.  She ruffled my hair affectionately, climbed down off the couch, retrieved her slinky green thing, said “See you around, Kiddo”, and then disappeared into the darkness.

I was left in a puddle of sweat and juice, massaging my damp, sticky penis, which was already getting hard again.  “I’m not a virgin anymore” was the first thought that occurred to me, and “Oh my God, what if I got her pregnant?” was the second.

I dismissed that second panicked thought pretty quickly.  Miss February was clearly a figment of my imagination, and you didn’t have to worry about impregnating figments of your imagination, as far as I knew.  I concentrated on jerking off, replaying what had just happened in my mind as I stroked my cock, still sticky-slick with Miss February’s wetness.

*

The next morning after breakfast, when I let myself quietly into the black wardrobe, rehearsing all the things I wanted to say and do to Miss February, I was surprised to find Shannon Kelly, that girl from school who I’d had a crush on forever standing bemusedly on the shag carpeting next to the couch.

We stood blinking at each other for a long moment.

I’d never been alone with Shannon before.  The erection that had been poking stiffly around inside my pants all morning started to wilt as I was gripped with a sweaty, tongue-tied attack of nervous shyness.

“I’ve thought about this happening a lot in class” she said. “When I should have been paying attention to equations.” Shannon sat behind me in Algebra.  “I’ve wanted you for a long time now.”

My fingers shaking like I had Parkinson’s, I lifted first one then the other strap of Shannon’s purple tank top off her shoulders.  She raised her arms up, and I lifted her top off, dropping it onto the shag carpet.  She was slender and waiflike and her young breasts looked firm as a pair of ripe apricots.  The nipples were swollen and puffy and pink.

“I guess I must be dreaming,” Shannon said slowly, “But this sure is a nice dream.”

My hard-on was back, with a vengeance.

I dropped to my knees and started undoing the catch of Shannon’s jeans.  I could feel her body heat radiating out through the denim.  She giggled as I fumbled with the buttons.  My hands were still shaking uncontrollably.  At last I got the fly open and her jeans down, and she stepped out of them like a young giraffe.

“Go ahead,” she whispered, standing in front of me.  There were goose bumps on her long skinny legs.  All she was wearing were a pair of baby-blue cotton panties with daisies printed on them.  I slipped my fingers under the elastic waistband and pulled them down.

A fluff of kitten-soft golden-brown pubic hair covered her pussy.  The delicate lips pouted out and glistened with excited moisture.  I nuzzled in closer, inhaling her scent.  She spread her legs for me, running her fingers softly through my hair.

On her inner left thigh, almost at the crease where her leg met her crotch, was a small blue tattoo; the outline of a double heart.

“My friend Daisy did that, back in the sixth grade, after the first time we…” Shannon trailed off, blushing.

I stuck out my tongue and drew it along the opening of her pussy.  Her lips bloomed open for me.  I couldn’t believe how soft and wet she was.  Her slickness was instantly all over my face.  She tasted like peaches.

[Many years later, Shannon and I got together in real life.  It was at a high school reunion, and we were both dating other people at the time and it was a one-off kind of thing, inappropriate and un-thought out, but very satisfying.  She did indeed have a crude, blurry tattoo of a double heart on her inner thigh, but she didn’t taste like peaches.  She tasted like a woman, clean and tangy and sexy.]

“I want to see you naked now!” she blurted out with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

I felt her closeness and her eyes hot upon me as I undressed.  When I pulled off my underwear, my dick sprang out like a jack-in-the-box.

“Hmm, it’s bigger than I thought it would be,” Shannon giggled, giving my erection an experimental squeeze.  Then she was pressed up against me, her firm little breasts mashed against my hairless chest, her fluffy bush mashed against my thigh, my hard cock nuzzled up against her tummy.  Her arms wrapped around me, and we began to kiss, just like a pair of grown-up lovers.

We kissed for a long time, holding each other close, exploring each other with lips and tongue and touch.  Then she tugged at me and still wrapped arm in arm, we shuffled back until we tripped up and tumbled sprawling onto the leather couch.

Shannon’s legs fell apart, giving me my first good view of her pussy.  It was spread open and pink and wet, small and delicate looking.  It reminded me of the fragile bloom of some wild flower.  Her pussy was framed by a soft pelt of blondish hair, so fine it barely existed.  The petite lips were pouting hungrily open, and clearish nectar was leaking out from in between them.

I positioned myself between her supple, skinny thighs, and both hands on my cock, took careful aim.

“Be gentle, ok?” Shannon said to me, “I’m a virgin at this.”

I nestled the swollen, red-ripe head of my cock in between her labia.  Her flesh was hot to the touch.  I could even see her little clit, impossible tiny, peeking out at me.  I moved forward, and the end of my penis disappeared inside Shannon’s heavenly twat.

I eased into her, as slowly and as carefully and as gently as I could manage.  If possible, Shannon was even hotter and wetter and tighter than Miss February.  Her pussy seemed to pulsate on my over-excited cock.  I thought I could feel her pulse with my dick.  By biting down hard on my lower lip and holding my breath, I was able to not shoot off right away.  My penis was finally buried inside her, all the way in, my balls pressed against her buttocks.

She made a little animal noise and wrapped her legs around my back, pulling me deeper in.  With her hands on my forearms, she whispered “Don’t stop now, fuck me!”

I complied, sliding my dick in and out, slowly at first, then faster and faster and more and more urgently.  She was humping back against my thrusting penis.  We were making sexy little squishing noises with our bodies as we fucked.  It was way too much for me.  I closed my eyes, threw my head back, and with a long low groan, I came inside her, squirting jet after jet of semen into her pussy, my whole body shaking as I came.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, keep on doing it!” I kept fucking her even as the urgency faded and my penis started to sag.  She was exquisitely wet.  Her eyes were shut and her head lolled from side to side.  One finger was busy down between her legs, strumming her clit as I fucked her.  At last she sighed contentedly and stretched, and my poor spent dick slipped wetly out of her slippery pussy.

Shannon grinned sleepily up at me.  “If that was a dream, that was the best one I’ve had in ages!” She lazily rolled off the couch and wadded her clothes and underwear up into a ball.  “I’ll see you back at school in the fall!”  And she turned and walked away.  I watched her sexy, pale butt twitch until it disappeared in the darkness.

*

I visited the wardrobe at least once a day; usually twice, after breakfast and again in the afternoon or evening; and some days I spent all day fooling around in there.  I fucked all the centerfold girls, most of the girls in my class, and Vanna White.  It didn’t take me long to figure out that what I was doing was essentially just masturbation: when it came down to business, the girls were basically all the same and didn’t really have much depth or personality; but I didn’t mind.  They were all eager and willing, they would do exactly what I wanted, and there was none of the awkwardness and paralyzing shyness I felt whenever I was around real girls.

I realized early on that I could exert some control over the wardrobe by focusing my thoughts: I could determine which girl I was going to visit, and what kind of things we’d do.  The real epiphany came later on though, toward the end of the summer.

I had never imagined it to be possible.  I was starting to get a little bored with all the fucking and sucking.  Not bored enough, of course, to stop visiting the wardrobe every morning, but it was becoming more and more like masturbating alone in bed: something to get over with before I went out to play for the rest of the day.  One morning, I decided to try an experiment.

Standing on the bare planks in front of the wardrobe, I consciously cleared my mind, allowing the wardrobe to take over.  I took a deep breath, exhaled, opened the door and stepped inside.

Instead of the familiar shag-carpeted den, I found myself in a classroom full of empty desks, with light pouring in the tall double-hung windows.  I was standing at the very back of the room, by the door.  There were math posters up on the wall, equations on the blackboard, and Miss Wainwright was perched on top of her desk at the front of the room, amidst piles of books, a coffee cup, and several different calculators.

Miss Wainwright was my algebra teacher.  She was painfully smart, bitingly funny, patient and quite nice as long as she wasn’t being bullshitted, and absolutely pitiless when she was.  She was thirtyish, plump and rounded, with curly red hair and boxy black glasses.  I had always been a little scared of Miss Wainwright, and I had certainly never thought of her sexually before.

“Come closer,” Miss Wainwright said, “I can hardly see you back there.”

Feeling very hesitant and self-conscious, I walked down the aisle between empty desks toward her.  She was wearing a short blue skirt, and flip-flops on her feet.  I realized belatedly that Miss Wainwright had really big boobs, really nice-looking big boobs that were only just contained inside her white blouse.  She crossed her legs, and I had a fleeting glimpse of her red panties.  I was uncomfortably aware of the lump in the front of my pants.

“What do you know,” Miss Wainwright asked me crisply, “On the subject of cunnilingus?”

“Um,” I stammered, “Does that mean, uh, eating a girl out?”

“Oh dear,” Miss Wainwright tut-tutted, “I expect you need a lesson.  Oh well, everybody needs to start somewhere… I can assure you, this is a skill you will find quite rewarding once you master it.  You’ll thank me.  And so will your future girlfriends.

[I had gone down on many of the girls I had encountered in the wardrobe.  But ‘going down’ had always consisted of a brief, creamy lick or two, a quick overture to the main event.  Years later, on our second date, Elka would ask me where I learned to eat pussy so well.  I just smiled.]

“Listen,” she went on, un-crossing her legs and looking at me seriously, “I’ll make you a deal: you make me have an orgasm, and I’ll definitely make it worth your while.  I’m not going to fuck you – say what they like, but Lisa Wainwright does not fuck her students – but I will make you feel really good.  And I think you’ll learn a thing or two on the way… So, what do you say?  Do we have a deal?”

I nodded dumbly and Miss Wainwright grinned.  “Well come on then,” she said, “It’s not going to lick itself.”

She stood up and quickly shucked off her red panties, tossing them aside, then sat back down on top of her desk, her knees wide apart.  “You should get naked,” she said, “It’ll be a good visual aid.”

I got undressed as she watched critically.  “Not bad,” she said when I was fully naked, “Not bad at all.  You’ll have a nice body once you’ve grown into it.”  She smoothed her skirt out on her lap.  “Shall we begin?”

‘Once I grow into it…’ I thought, ‘Sheesh’.  She was, I realized much later, absolutely right.

Miss Wainwright hiked up her skirt and lay back across the top of her desk.  “Let’s see what you can do.”

I stuck my head in between her big meaty thighs.  Her pussy was completely bald, like a pair of big soft bike tires squished together.  Just a hint of her shy inner lips peaked out.  I stuck out my tongue and slurped up and down the crease of her pussy, soft as baby fat.

“NO!” Miss Wainwright yanked my hair non-gently.  “You have to start slow, beat around the bush for a while.  This isn’t a pie-eating contest!”

I took the hint and ran with it, licking and kissing her inner thighs, the mound above her pussy, nibbling gently on those plump outer lips until she sighed happily.

“Mmm, that’s more like it” she cooed, “Now you’re getting me all hot and bothered.”  It was true.  She was getting quite wet, and her pussy was opening up for me.  She didn’t taste anything like the other wardrobe girls.  It wasn’t a bad taste at all, but it was intense: earthy, tangy, pungent, female.  She tasted like sex, and it was nearly overwhelming.  Her clitoris was clearly visible, a big fat pink pea, peeking out from underneath it’s little hood.

I slurped her pussy like an ice-cream cone, dragging my tongue across her wide open labia all the way up and over her straining clit.  That earned me another sharp yank on my hair.

“Easy there, Tiger!”  I resumed the teasing, licking and kissing I’d been doing before and she released my hair.  “Not directly on my clit!  Listen and learn, Young Grasshopper: one thing that is true is that every girl is different.  You’ll have to learn to learn to lick every girl the way she likes it.  Now I like it when you lick all around my clit – right on it is too intense – and you can put a couple fingers inside now.”  I complied.  It felt super sexy to have her wet pussy squeezing my fingers.  She sighed happily as my tongue danced around the sensitive little fat nib of her clit.  “Some girls like a finger gently up their anus, other girls want you to stay the hell away from that entire area.” She squirmed, “Me, I’d like you to play with my asshole right now… use your thumb, just tickle around the outside… mmm, yessss… now: DON’T STOP.”

I have no idea how long I went at it.  Long enough for my world to become just her hot, thick, squeezing thighs and her wet, slippery vulva; long enough for my jaw to cramp and my tongue to ache.  I fingered her pussy with one, then two, then one again fingers, finding a sweet spot where she liked to be rubbed hard, as hard as I could press, just inside her vagina.  I licked all around her clit, up and down her pussy, and once in a while, just for variety and out of naughtiness, I kissed her full on the clit.  She didn’t object.  My thumb circled her asshole, pressing gently against it, then dancing away, stroking the flesh below her pussy, tracing the crack of her butt all the way up to the base of her spine, then trekking back down again to her winking, needy anus.  In the end, as she started seriously groaning and wiggling and humping back against me, my thumb ended up buried halfway up her asshole as my fingers plunged in and out of her gasping pussy and my tongue danced around her clit.

When she finally came, it was beautiful.  I was buried in her pussy, I couldn’t breathe as she heaved and shook and cried out loud, and I didn’t care, I just kept licking until finally she went limp.  It was the most satisfying experience I had ever had.

I was exhausted, covered in her wetness.

“Not bad!” Miss Wainwright sat up and smiled, “Not bad at all for a beginner.  With a little practice, you could be a world champ.”

She smoothed out her skirt.  “Now climb on up here and get what’s coming to you.”

I clambered up onto the desk, my erect penis wobbling with every move.  Miss Wainwright grinned at me like a hungry cat and started unbuttoning her blouse, setting her big tits free.  They hung down over her full, round stomach.  “Not too bad for an old fat chick, don’t you think?”

Not bad, not bad at all.  They were big and full and featured aureole the size of desert plates, with big, gumdrop-shaped nipples poking out the center.  I’d pay much more attention in math class from now on. Miss Wainwright sucked her index finger playfully.  “You’ve got a very nice cock, you know.  Not too big, not too small, just right.  If you learn to use that thing right, you are going to make some girls very happy.  Always remember, your most important sex organ is right between your ears…”

She squeezed my cock playfully.  Her grip was warm and firm.

With a quick movement, she took the wet finger she’d been teasingly sucking on like a mini cock, and slipped it right up my ass.

I gasped at the invasion.  It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it felt decidedly weird.  I was impaled on her long index finger like a shish-kabob.  My dick seemed to get even harder, straining up and out.

“Goooood boy!” Miss Wainwright cooed, pumping my penis very softly as she manipulated the finger that was up my butt.  My eyes rolled back in my head and I reveled in the sensations she was inflicting on me.  “I want you to come on my breasts.  Yeah… put your hot come all over teacher’s nice titties, won’t you?”

She played my penis like an instrument, stroking me to the very edge of a massive explosion and then backing off, blowing on the red-hot head like a birthday candle, then starting all over again, touching me so softly it was as if she wasn’t there at all, then building, building, building until I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer.  The finger in my asshole was driving me crazy, my balls positively ached, my whole body strained for release.

Finally she gripped my cock with a new purpose, pumping hard and fast, and she curled the finger that was up my butt, pressing buttons I hadn’t even known I had, and I came, wailing and squirting pearly-white come all over her big shaking tits.

When it was over, she gently extracted her finger and spread my come all over her breasts like lotion.  She grinned proudly.  “Excellent work, A+.  I’m looking forward to seeing you in class next semester!”

The next year at school, I strained my eyeballs trying to catch a glimpse of Miss Wainwright’s red panties, but I never did.

*

The next time I entered the wardrobe, I was greeted with a truly unexpected sight: a gawky, awkward-looking teenage boy about my own age, stark naked, with an erection that mirrored my own.  He seemed too tall for his body, he had a slight slouch, and his hair was on the shaggy side.  I realized with a rushing shock of recognition that I was looking at myself.

“Hey.” he said.

“Hey.” I said.

“Feeling horny?” he asked, eyeing the bulge in the front of my pants, the anticipatory erection that hadn’t drooped one iota despite the fact that I hadn’t been greeted by the usual sexy, horny female.

“Yeah” I said eloquently, unsnapping the fly of my jeans and sizing my doppelganger up.  Now I could see what Miss Wainwright meant when she said I’d have a nice body once I grew into it.  Maybe I should start running or working out a little?  And the pubes could definitely use a trim.  My mirror image’s balls hung down like fat, ripe fruit, and his erection jutted obscenely out.  From this perspective it looked intimidating large.

He leered at me.  “Go ahead,” he said, “I know you’re curious.”

It’s true.  I was.  I had often more than half wondered what it would be like to suck my own dick.  I was about to find out.

It was kind of sexy.  It was more than a little weird.  It was a little scary.  Once I had that big hard hot eager thrusting thing in my mouth, I gained a lot of respect for the talents of my centerfold playmates: I had no idea what to do with it.  I tried sucking on it like a big popsicle, which my mirror-image seemed to appreciate, but I couldn’t maintain that very long.  I tried licking it like a lollipop, which was easier and kind of fun, but it didn’t seem like that method was going to get him off.  When I tried to swallow him whole, I choked and gagged.

I needed some attention too, so we decided to try a 69.  He climbed on top of me on the couch, and I continued to try out my oral skills on his cock.  It wasn’t really the right angle for me to suck on him, so I concentrated on nibbling and licking the shaft and balls.  His asshole, a tiny pink crinkled hole surrounded by soft hair, winked at me.  It was strange to see this view of myself.

Meanwhile, my twin self wasn’t doing much better on my own hard and horny dick.  It felt nice, whatever he was doing down there, but it wasn’t taking me anywhere.  He couldn’t seem to get a good rhythm going on; every time it started to feel like I might be going to be able to get off, he lost it.  We were both getting really hot and bothered and frustrated.

I sneaked a lick up around his anus, and he moaned with delight.  I obliged him, circling his puckered little hole, trying to invade his asshole with the tip of my tongue.  He started doing the same for me, and it felt amazing!  It was something I had secretly lusted for, but had been embarrassed to ask any of the centerfold girls for.   Funny, being embarrassed to ask a hallucination for weird sexual favors.  But anyway, as amazing and sexy as it felt, the rimming action wasn’t going to get either one of us off.

Finally, I could take no more.  “Hey, do you think I could try fucking you in the ass?” I asked.

“Um, I guess so” he answered from between my thighs, “This is your fantasy after all.”

We disengaged and repositioned, him bent over one arm of the couch, butt presented to me, his fuzzy balls hanging vulnerably down.  He looked back at me nervously.  “Go easy, ok?”

I rubbed my almost painfully hard erection between his firm butt cheeks.  His ass was nice and wet from the licking I had given it, and what I was doing felt really good.  He seemed to think so too, humping back against me and sliding his ass up and down the length of my shaft.

I spread his cheeks apart, exposing his tender little hole.  With one hand I guided the head of my penis up against his anus.  I reached under him and squeezed his dick, which was just as hard as my own.  I took careful aim, nuzzled my cock right up against his opening, and shoved.

“OUCH!  OW!  Stop, take it out!  Oh fuck!  I’m sorry, that hurts!”

I hastily pulled out, and he rolled over, grabbing his ass protectively and grimacing.

“Sorry, I’m not really ready for that… Gosh, I didn’t think it was going to be… they make it look so easy in the pornos…

“Sorry,” he said again, “I don’t really know what I’m doing here.  I’m just making it up as I go along.”

“Me too,” I said.

We ended up jerking each other off, arm in arm, lying together on the couch.  That was one thing I was really good at.  And so was he.  We stroked and pumped each other into utter bliss, teasing and tormenting and finally abandoning ourselves to the pleasure.  We kissed hard and deep for a while as our climaxes approached with the inevitability of an oncoming locomotive.  It felt strange to kiss a guy, but not necessarily strange in a bad way.  And then we were both coming, bucking and heaving and squirting hot white semen all over each other’s stomachs.  We collapsed, sighing contentedly, one big sweaty, sticky mess.

“Wow,” he said once we had both calmed down a little and weren’t breathing so hard, “That was intense.”  He dipped his finger experimentally in the overflowing pool of come that I had deposited into his navel, and licked his finger tentatively.  I did the same.  It wasn’t bad, kind of salty and soupy.  “That was kind of cool.”

Now that we had gotten off, I think we both felt a little awkward.  He got up, my come running down his belly and into his pubic patch.  “Thanks… I enjoyed that.”

“See you soon, ok?”

“Sure… next time you look in the mirror.”

And then he was gone, off into the darkness at the back of the wardrobe.

*

“YO BITCH, DROP THEM DRAWERS!  I WANNA SEE THAT CUTE LITTLE WHITE ASS OF YOURS!”

It was the next day, and instead of a hot, sexy girl, or a horny math teacher, or even my own mirror image, I found myself facing that huge scary black dude I had run into the first time I ventured into the wardrobe.  He leered at me threateningly.  The weird spiral tattoos on his face stretched and distorted.  His muscles bulged under his ebony skin.  He was wearing a steel choker clamped around his thick neck, and his teeth gleamed whitely.  Hands trembling, I complied, stripping naked while he watched.

“Not bad White Boy, not bad at all.” He smiled, and it was an odd mix of friendly and pure evil.  “Marcel is going to fuck your ass so hard your eyes will pop out of your head.  I’m just kiddin’ with you.  Now get down on your knees and start sucking my dick.”

I hesitated, not knowing what to do.  He was wearing tight black jeans, a studded leather belt, and there was a frightening-looking bulge in his crotch.

“I’m serious bitch.  I am going to teach you to suck dick and to suck it right.”  He was unfastening his belt, letting his pants fall.  He wasn’t wearing any underwear; his cock was big and thick and purple and black.  It reminded me of a Discovery Channel snake, or maybe the trunk of an elephant.  It seemed to be about as big as my forearm.  There was a well-trimmed patch of curly black pubic hair around it, and a big fat drop of clear pre-come oozed out the tip.

He placed his huge hand on top of my head and forced me down onto my knees, gently but insistently.  I could see every ab in his six-pack.  That ridiculously big cock bobbed right in my face.  I looked up at him questioningly.

“Well it sure aint going to suck itself.  Don’t worry White Boy, it doesn’t make you gay to fuck around with a figment of your imagination.  Now get to it!”

There was nothing for me but to do it.  I closed my eyes and opened wide.  It was like trying to swallow my whole arm, fist and all.

“No!”  he cuffed me across the face and I went sprawling, my cheek on fire.  “Don’t try to swallow it whole… at least not yet.  Start off slow.  Lick it, kiss it.  Play with my balls.  And use your hand.  Now try again.”

He kicked his pants off the rest of the way, and lounged down onto the couch, his big dick flopping against his stomach.  My face feeling red and sore, I crawled over and went to work.

I did what he said, encouraged with light slaps and not-so-gentle tugs on my hair when he didn’t like what I was doing, and happy-sounding sighs and soft growls when he did.  I kept one hand wrapped around the shaft, slowly stroking him the whole time as I licked, sucked, nibbled and kissed.  I ran my tongue along the underside of his cock with my tongue, tracing the big fat vein all the way up and back.  I boldly sucked on his balls, taking each one in turn carefully into my mouth.  I captured the thick purple head between my lips and swirled my tongue around its contours.  I never would have thought it, never would have admitted it, but I was starting to find sucking his dick almost as fun as getting my own dick sucked.

“Mmm…” he sighed as I eagerly slurped at the swollen head of his cock, a fat, sweet fruit in my mouth, “White Boy, you were born to suck dick!”

With that, he placed both hands on the back of my head and shoved, forcing me all the way down onto his cock.  His erection filled my mouth and muscled its way down my throat.  I gagged and struggled, but he held me firm.  I started to panic, afraid that I couldn’t breathe.  He only shoved me further down his cock, until my face was mashed up against his crinkly pubic hair.  I tried to pull away, but it was useless.  He was way too strong.  I started to pass out.

That was when I realized that I could breathe after all.  It wasn’t easy, but I could get a little air in and out through my nose, and it was enough.

He grunted with satisfaction and got down to business, fucking my face.  He started slowly, and then accelerated, fucking my mouth harder and faster.  All I could do was try to breathe and keep my teeth off his dick, and hang on.  I couldn’t help gagging sometimes when he shoved himself all the way in, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.  In fact he seemed to like that.  A part of my mind thought I was a complete pervert for enjoying this, but enjoying it I was.  I was his bitch, and he was using me for his pleasure alone.  Another part of my mind wished I had a better view of the action.

He came with a shout, his dick swelling and pulsing.  He crammed my face down on him as he came.  I barely even tasted his come, it mostly squirted straight down my throat.  Finally, satisfied, he pushed me away, and I collapsed onto the floor, dazed and panting.

“Well done, I gotta say.”  He flashed me that smile again, this time more friendly than pure evil.  “Now Marcel is going to give you what you deserve.  You ready White Boy?”

My dick was still stunningly hard.  I wasn’t going to get any readier.  Following his direction, I bent over the arm of the couch, my head down, my ass up.  I held my breath, getting ready for whatever he was going to give to me.

Swish! Smack!  I heard it before I even felt it.  It took me a moment to process what was happening, and then I yelped in pain.  His black studded leather belt whooshed through the air and slapped across my ass once again, and I cried out in earnest, hollering and shouting and fighting hard to get away.

He held me down with one huge hand placed squarely between my shoulder blades and beat me hard with the belt in his other hand.  I screamed until my throat was raw.  I cried, sobbed, begged for mercy.  I lost count quickly how many times he hit me.  Again and again and again.

I began to realize that the pain was transcendental, that it wasn’t going to kill me, and I started to lose myself in the sensation, the feeling of being utterly helpless and in his control.   My face was wet with salty tears but my dick was still hard.  At last he stopped, dropped his belt onto the floor with a clatter, and softly kissed each flaming red welt-covered cheek, over and over until I stopped crying.

“Sweet Action, White Boy,” he said, and I fairly glowed with pride.  “You ready to come for me?”

I nodded eagerly.

“Ok then.  Go ahead and come for Marcel then.”  He held out his huge brown hand, palm up in front of me.

He stared into my eyes as I jerked off for him.  Sometimes, when I got too close to coming, he slowed me down by pulling my nipples hard and twisting them cruelly, relishing my pitiful cries.  My buttocks still throbbed from the beating I had received, my dick felt longer and harder than ever before.  Masturbating for Marcel was the most intensely erotic scene I had experienced yet.  When I finally came, I was gasping and panting, and his eyes were on fire.  I filled the palm of his hand with my sticky white semen.

When I was all done coming, when I had milked every last drop into his waiting hand and my dick was small and soft again, he made me lick it up.  I wasn’t incredibly crazy about the taste, but the feeling, that feeling of being his pet, his toy, a plaything under his control; that was weirdly sexy and amazing.

“See you around,” Marcel said, “And next time, I will fuck that tight little ass!”

He left me feeling dazed and confused.

Later on, my throat was still sore from all the screaming, but there wasn’t a mark on my bottom; I checked in the bathroom mirror.  I figured I still like girls best, but I wouldn’t mind playing around with Marcel once in a while.

*

It was to be my last full day at Great Aunt Matilda’s house.  I wolfed down my breakfast as Great Aunt watched me over her morning paper.  She asked if I had anything special planned for my last day in Vermont, wondered if I’d mind having lunch with her and some of her friends.  No problem, but first there was some stuff I wanted to do by myself.  Of course, she agreed.  Luncheon at one, she smiled, and asked me to please wear something clean if I was going to play outside all morning.

As soon as was remotely polite, I excused myself and headed straight over to the wardrobe.  I was hot and horny and hoping for something amazing.

I was not disappointed.  A septet of nubile young Egyptian slave girls was waiting for me.  They made a giggling contest of it, each one trying valiantly to get me off using only her mouth before a minute egg timer ran out.  It took all morning, and the anticipation nearly killed me, my balls aching and my dick so hard I thought it might break, but it was worth it in the end.  A proud young girl with dark honey skin and almost no breasts at all finally brought me off into her hungry mouth.  The intensity of the orgasm almost made me pass out.  My girl friends waved goodbye and filed away into the darkness.

When I got back to my bedroom, I realized that I was going to be late for Great Aunt Matilda’s luncheon.  Fortunately I didn’t have to change clothes.  I had barely worn them at all.

*

Lunch was an excruciating affair.  Great Aunt Matilda presided over the frizzy-haired old ladies (and one withered, wispy-looking old man) of the town historical society, none of whom were aged less than one hundred and three.  I was admired and praised like a prize turkey (such a nice, well-behaved, handsome young man); subjected to a quick barrage of inane questions and platitudes; and then largely ignored as they slowly munched dry roast chicken sandwiches and discussed preservation committees and fund-raising events.  It went on for hours, and I suffered in polite silence.  After sandwiches, the wine came out, and the conversation turned to people I had never heard of, old friends and relations, all of whom (as far as I could make out) were long dead.  The afternoon seemed like it would never end.  I sat quietly, tried to keep smiling, and nodded in agreement whenever it seemed like I was expected to.  Great Aunt Matilda, the next youngest person in the room by a good twenty years, shot me a couple sympathetic looks.  I just wished I was old enough to partake of the wine.

At last lunch was over, and I finally had the opportunity to say goodbye to the woods and stream and hills around the mansion.  I really was going to miss Vermont when I got back to the city, and not just for the kinky sex either.

That night, Great Aunt Matilda took me out for pizza.  That was a first.

“I’m really sorry I had to subject you to that” she said, “I couldn’t not show off my handsome young nephew to the committee ladies.  They never would have forgiven me.  Bunch of tiresome old biddies, aren’t they?”

I could only agree.

“I’m truly going to miss having you around the house.  You make the old place seem so much more lively.”  That seemed odd to me because aside from mealtimes, we had seen very little of each other all summer. “I hope you enjoyed your stay here.”

I assured her that I had.  I wondered if she had any idea how much I had enjoyed myself.

*

That night, after we got back from pizza, I crept over to the east wing and the wardrobe room.  In the past when I had visited the wardrobe late at night, I had always found it locked.  But I wanted to pay one last visit before I left for good, and I hoped it might still be early enough to get in.

The frolicking satyrs and nymphs carved into the dark wood seemed to leer and grin seductively at me.  The house was still and silent.  I tried the door and found it unlocked.

The wardrobe was empty.  The shag carpeting was gone, the leather couch replaced with a red velvet settee.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I sat down on the settee and waited.  And waited.

I’m not sure how long I sat there, alone in the semi-dark.  At the time it seemed like hours and hours, but it may have been less.  Maybe the magic was gone.  I was half-tempted to get up, leave, go jerk off in the comfort of my own bed, but I stayed, hoping against hope that something, anything, would happen.

At some point I got bored, stripped down, started playing with myself in an idle, non-committal sort of way, replaying in my mind the various sexy scenes that had happened to me over the summer: Miss February, Shannon, Miss Wainwright, Marcel and all the others.  I wasn’t especially trying to make myself come, but as they danced naked through my head and did all sorts of kinky things to me (and each other), I started to become seriously turned on.  The idle petting of my dick became more and more purposeful; the fantasies in my head came into sharper and sharper focus.

Ever get the feeling you’re being watched?  I was really getting into it, masturbating in earnest to a fantasy scene in my head in which I was fucking Miss Wainwright, who was eating the pussy of one of the Egyptian slave girls, while Marcel was molesting me from behind.  I was deeply fingering my own asshole as I stroked my cock, working myself up for a massive come, when I happened to look up.  Great Aunt Matilda was standing next to the settee in the same grand and imposing fuchsia dress she had been wearing that afternoon, watching me with one eyebrow raised archly.

Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt at that instant.  I imagined myself a bug, impaled on a pin in a display case, as Great Aunt Matilda examined me in all my naked glory.

“Marcel wasn’t lying,” she said with an amused little smile, “you do have a pretty hot little body.  And a very nice young cock.  But a big dick will only get you so far in life.  Let’s see what my wardrobe has taught you this summer.”

She shook out her habitual tidy bun, and her long grey hair cascaded down her back.

“God,” she said, “I’ve been thinking about this all day.  All summer, really.  All the way through that awful luncheon, I kept imagining you ducking under the table and crawling up my skirt…”

She shrugged her dress off her shoulders and it fell into a beautiful crumpled magenta heap around her ankles.  She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and I gawked shamelessly.

Her skin was white, the color of porcelain.  It didn’t seem to me the wrinkly skin of an old lady (she was only in her low or mid sixties, I realized later, hardly a geriatric).  Her skin wasn’t flawless; it was dotted with freckles and a few spots here and there, a few wrinkles and creases, and in some places like her neck and upper arms, it seemed slightly stretched and saggy.  No matter.  She was beautiful, tall and slender and regal.  Her breasts reminded me of two pears, pointing slightly down and out, and her nipples were long and red, almost like little fingers.  There was a slight bulge to her belly.  A very neatly-trimmed triangle of brown-grey pubic hair stood fluffily out, and her lips bulged out below that.  Her legs were long and shapely.  She finally seemed to notice me staring and blushed shyly.

“Not too bad for an old lady, I hope?”

“You’re beautiful.” I said.

“Thank you,” she said simply, stepping toward the couch and putting her hands on my shoulders.  She kissed my lips and I kissed her back, and I could feel myself melting.

After we had kissed for some time, my mind reeling with the sexiness and the strangeness of it, she gently pushed me down onto the red velvet settee.  I lay sprawled on the cushions on my back, and she climbed on top of me, placing her pussy conveniently within range of my tongue.

She started lavishing oral attention on my genitals, both hands gripping my ass as she licked my cock and balls, kissing the head and lightly nibbling at the shaft.  “Won’t you be a nice, well-behaved young man and start licking my cunt?” she asked.  I was thrilled to oblige.

She had big fat meaty labia that were already parted open for me, and her clit was big and red and engorged.  She tasted musky, salty with just a hint of spice.  She wasn’t incredibly soaking wet, but she was quite vocal in her appreciation of my technique, crying out loud and moaning out my name as I licked her pussy.  She licked having her fat clit licked hard, sucked on and even gently tugged at with my teeth.  She came for me that way almost at once, bucking and kicking as I buried my face in her crotch, sucking hard; and then she came again as I greedily sucked and licked as hard as I was able on her excited pussy and clit.  After two quick hard orgasms, she was showing no sign of slowing down.

Experimentally, I parted her cheeks, admiring her asshole.  She went still, holding her breath.  I dragged the tip of my tongue up from her gasping pussy, along the soft skin between her buttocks, then let my tongue dance around her pretty little anus.  She cooed and sighed, trying to shove her ass back toward me to get more of my tongue.  I flexed my tongue, trying to shove it all the way up her tight little hole.  The harder I licked her ass, the more excited she got, humping back against my face.  I was incredibly turned on by what I was doing to my Great Aunt; even though she had been neglecting my penis ever since her first orgasm, I was still rock hard, erect and flopping eagerly against her face.

“Oh my goodness you are good,” she gushed at last, clambering off of me, “I have got to have that thing inside me right now.”  She lay down on her stomach on the hardwood floor, snatching a pillow for her hips off the settee.  “You know what I want.  Come on Little Mister, fuck my ass.”

Her grey hair was spread out in a tangle around her shoulders, spilling all over the floor, her ass was raised up in anticipation, her fingers were busy down between her legs.  I climbed on top of her, took careful aim, and pressed the head of my cock against her tiny asshole.

“Let me know if it hurts,” I said.

“Just fuck me,” she gasped.

I pressed forward and her asshole swallowed me, accepting my cock easily and grasping it tight.  Her body was hot and strong.  I had to freeze, halfway impaled on her ass, holding my breath and biting my lip to keep from coming right away.

“Fuck me” she repeated.  She was already humping back against me.  Slowly, my dick disappeared up her butthole.  The feeling was exquisite. I could feel her masturbating, her fingers working busily on her pussy and her clit.  “Fuck my ass hard” she said, and I did.

It couldn’t have lasted very long.  Really I have no idea how much time it was.  I fucked her ass as hard as I could, shoving my cock all the way in, then pulling it back out again before plunging back inside.  She loved it, screaming and crying and fucking me back, encouraging me with every thrust.  “Put your come inside me, I want to feel you come!” she begged, and I was already there.  I exploded, pumping my semen into her asshole even as I continued fucking her with all my might.  Her ass clenched twitching on my cock as she came, screaming loud and shrill, her whole body shaking as if she were having a seizure.  I collapsed, covered in sweat, across her back, my penis still captured in the grip of her anus.

Finally she was done coming, and my diminished cock slipped out of her ass.  She lazily rolled over and kissed me on the forehead.

That” she said, “was delicious.  You can come back to Vermont and visit any time you like.  Now we’ve both got an early morning ahead of us.  We should be getting to bed.”

She gathered up her dress and left, leaving me still panting and sticky.  It was late and I was exhausted, and after a few minutes I collected my clothes and padded back to my own bed.

*

The ride to the train station the next morning was bittersweet, and slightly awkward.  We traded platitudes about how nice the summer had been and how it would be nice for me to see my friends again and how I really should come and visit again sometime soon.  Before she dropped me off at the platform, Great Aunt Matilda put her hand on mine and kissed me, first one cheek and then the other, and then on my lips.  I wasn’t sure if it was an affectionate kiss from my dignified older relative, or something less appropriate.

And then it was onto the train, the long and scenic ride down to Penn Station in Manhattan, where my friends and family waited for me, back to my own familiar bed in our little apartment, back to that now incredibly mundane-seeming stack of porno mags in my closet, back to school and teen angst and sexual frustration and the alluring but aloof and ever-elusive charms of Shannon Kelly.  I settled down in my seat and watched out the window as the towns and villages of New England rode by.

***

The Monday after we had tea with my mother, a large delivery van showed up outside out building, and workmen started unloading a massive crate.  Great Aunt Matilda had willed her antique wardrobe to me.

Elka took one look and shook her head.  “It won’t fit.  There’s no way they’ll be able to get that up the stairs, never mind into our apartment.  And where would we put it?”

“We’ll make it fit,” I said, “If we have to cut a hole in the roof and drop it in with a crane, we’ll make it work.”

END

Comments (8)

A Box of Letters

(The contents of an old Adidas shoe box, the letters neatly arranged in chronological order and tied up with a red ribbon.)

*****

(a large brown envelope that also contains a number of glossy 8×10 photographs of somebody’s family reunion.  The one on top seems to have been taken in front of a grand old hotel.  A group of forty or so more-or-less related-looking people are clustered around a feisty-looking white haired old lady gripping a walker and wearing a hideous turquoise suit.  The other photos seem to center on the old lady and two other people: a girl in her early or mid twenties, with shoulder-length jet black hair, a long neck, strong cheek bones, and big brown eyes; and a guy who looks like a slightly taller, slightly older version of the same girl.)

Dear L,

I met my brother Stefan for the first time in over twenty years last week!  It was totally unplanned and unexpected.  I went to Ireland for my Nana’s ninetieth birthday celebration, and a ton of family was there, and there he was!  He’d heard about the party somehow and made the flight over himself.

Ireland was beautiful and Nana was great.  She seems so alive and sharp and so much younger than she actually is.  We all went walking in the countryside together.  We visited the farm where she was born.  Stefan and I talked a lot.  We have a ton of catching up to do!  We hadn’t seen each other since we were both little kids.  We traded phone numbers and stuff.  It turns out we don’t actually live that far apart.  He’s been in Phili the last eight years.

It was cool to see Nana in the place where she grew up, and it was neat to get together with so much family –cousins I didn’t even know I had- it was a fun trip and I was glad I went, even though I was SO sick on the plane ride back…!  I’m still recovering from the hangover.

Best,

A

*****

(In a small, rose-colored envelope which also contains three 4×8 photographs.  The address and letter are written in neat feminine handwriting with purple ink.)

L-

Stefan called just to make sure I got home ok!!!  Which was weird, because I was totally thinking of him when he called.  It was very sweet.   I am sending you a couple pictures.  Isn’t he a cutie??

Still working on the hangover.  Drinking lots of water and taking Advil.  What was I thinking, trying to out-drink the Irish??

Your Friend,

A

(The three pictures enclosed with the letter show a tall, skinny young man with a big open smile and messy, slightly shaggy hair.  In one of the pictures, he and A are walking down a country lane together.  There is a stone wall and sheep in the background.  Both of them are smiling happily and A is looking up at Stefan. They are walking close enough to be holding hands, but are not.)

*****

(Written in black ball-point pen on ruled pages torn out of a spiral-bound notebook.  There is a coffee stain on the second page, and some of the words are so smudged as to be illegible.)

Dearest L-

Stefan called again last night, and we talked for hours!  It was a really amazing conversation.  We have so much in common!  It’s kind of bizarre… I mean, we like the same movies, the same music, the same authors… but it’s not just that.  It’s weird stuff too.  Like both of us almost went to Eastern, but then didn’t.  Like both of us spent a summer in Fairbanks, only two years apart.  Like we both lost our virginity at the exact same age, down to the month.  It’s spooky, I tell you.  Sometimes he seems to know what I’m thinking.  Sometimes I know what he’s going to say before he says it.  I feel like I’ve known him my entire life.   I asked him if he remembers mom at all, and he said he thinks so.  She is like an image on the edge of a dream for him, or maybe just a dream.  I don’t remember her at all, I was too young.

[two lines here are scratched out]

I guess it’s not really weird that I feel this intense connection with Stefan, but it feels weird.  Not weird in a bad way, not at all… more like that “Oh My God I’m Falling In Love” kind of weird.  Oh God, did I just say that?  I tell you, Stefan is such a great guy… smart, sweet, funny, kind…

[there is a smudge here, rendering the next two or three words totally illegible}

…if he wasn’t my brother I’d totally be jumping his bones right about now.  I can’t believe I even wrote that thought down.  You know I am going to go to hell.  We were on the phone forever, and it didn’t seem like we’d ever run out of things to talk about.  At the end we were both on the verge of falling asleep, and neither one of us wanted to be the one to hang up first.  It was silly and cute.  In the end we ended up counting to three together and hanging up at the same time.

I had the strangest dreams last night.  I don’t usually remember my dreams very well, but

[three words scratched out}

…anyway my dreams were incredibly vivid and really intense.  I was totally distracted all morning at work.  If my boss had any idea what I was doing instead of being productive…!!  So anyway I’m over at the coffee shop right now and I’m embarrassed to tell you all I can think about is Stefan.  I hope he calls again tonight.  Would it be too weird for me to call him if he doesn’t call me first?  I don’t want to seem pushy or give him the wrong impression.  Shit, I don’t even know anymore.  My stomach is all fluttery just writing this, and it’s not just the lack of sleep and the caffeine.  I don’t know when I’ve felt like this… it’s been a really long time, for sure. [there is a small illustration here, a stick figure with a big smile on its face]  I don’t know what’s going to happen, but right now it feels really good.

xoxo

A

*****

(on lavender stationary with a watermark depicting a vase of flowers.  Hand-written in purple ink)

L—–

I’m so glad I have you as a friend.  Who else would I be able to tell this stuff to??

So… He came to town yesterday.  (He, being Stefan, who else?)  It was a work thing, he was in meetings all day, but he was able to get away to have lunch with ME!  It turns out he comes to New York City on a fairly regular basis.  He even dated a girl in NYC for a while.  I wonder if we ever passed each other on the street, sat in the same train car… I only think that we must not have, because I can’t imagine that I could have seen him, even as a stranger passing on a crowded street, and not felt something.

Anyway, it was really great to see him again.  I was really really nervous about meeting up with him, like stomach-ache kind of nervousness.  I almost made myself sick, I was so stressed out.  I was afraid that it was going to be weird, awkward, or even worse, that the spark wouldn’t be there anymore, that our connection was just a product of my imagination all along.

Well, the connection was still there… at least it was for me, BIG TIME!  He walked into the café and I was like BOINK! Girly hard-on!  Totally salivating, drool, drool, drool.  I kept thinking to myself ‘Calm down girl, remember he’s your brother!’ But I couldn’t stop thinking those thoughts.

So lunch was really nice, I couldn’t tell you what we ate or anything… it was only about half an hour we were together, but it was the most BEAUTIFUL half-hour EVER!  He slid his chair over so we were sitting really close, and the closer he sat the hotter I got.  At one point he put his hand on mine (I have to tell you, Stefan has the most beautiful, HUGE hands in the world!), and it was totally like… insta-orgasm!!

I hope I didn’t embarrass myself.

He was so sweet and handsome and it was a lot of fun just to hang out and chat with him for a little while, but I couldn’t tell you one thing we talked about… the whole time I was thinking ‘What I really want is to be down on my knees sucking your dick.”

When I got back to work, it was so bad!  I swear I soaked right through my panties.  I was just squirming around in my chair all day, trying not to think sexy thoughts, which of course meant I was thinking nothing BUT sexy thoughts, and I couldn’t DO anything about it!  Grrrrrr!

I was fucking tearing my clothes off as soon as I got back to my apartment.  I barely made it into my bed!  Do you remember that purple silicone toy of mine?  Well, the vibrator part doesn’t work any more, but I still have it, it’s an old favorite.  I grabbed that thing from the desk drawer and fucking JAMMED it!  I was so wet, it was just ridiculous.  I came right away, all that pent-up sexual energy I’d been building up all day just bursting out of me.  I don’t know when I’ve ever come that hard… definitely not since me and Jason first started going out.  And that was just me getting warmed up…  I got off two or three more times after that, and I never even switched on my vibrator.

Oh L, I can’t believe I’m telling even you this stuff… So I was lying there on my bed like a porn star, working my way up to a fourth one, and my cell phone rings, and who do you think it was?!?

So I answer the phone, and Stefan just said he was calling to say hi and say how much he’d enjoyed getting together with me.  I felt like telling him exactly what I was doing and what I was thinking about him, I felt like sending him a picture from my phone of that big purple dildo jammed halfway up my juicy pussy, but of course I didn’t.  Maybe I should have, I don’t know.  I just pictured him, in his bed in his apartment in Phili, with his dick in his hand, softly softly softly stroking…..  Mmmm oh baby, I’d stroke that thing for you…!

Bad A!  Bad!!  He’s your freaking BROTHER for crying out loud!

It’s a good thing he lives in another city than me….

I might just have to masturbate again tonight.

Your Wanton Friend,

A

*****

(an email, printed up on white computer paper)

He called again last night.  I’d already gone to bed, was ½ asleep when i answered the phone.  it was really nice just to hear his voice.  i think he was a little embarrassed to be calling so late.  Anyway, we just chatted for a while, and then we got onto talking about…  SEX.  OMG, much hotness!  Details soon!

xxx

me

*****

(black felt-tip marker, printed in large capital letters on a napkin.  There is a picture underneath of a stick-figure drawing of a she-devil with exaggerated breasts, a scribbled triangle of pubic hair, a spiked tail and horns coming out of her head)

I AM GOING TO HELL!!!

*****

(spiral-bound notebook paper, blue fine-tip ballpoint pen)

Dear L,

I said I would give you details, so here goes!  Hold on to your hat, it gets pretty wild!  I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world I could tell this stuff to.  I know you won’t judge me.

So when he called the other night and we (of course) started talking about sex…… well we ended up jerking off together.  It was Super Hot.  I totally started it, totally led him on.  I’m telling you, Incredible Hotness!!  I think that was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, and I was really vocal about it, just for him.  I totally got off on hearing him come, too… So Sexy!!!

The next day I totally felt like a schmuck.  I was afraid I’d scared him off for good. I am his SISTER after all.  Who jerks off over the phone with his long-lost sister?

So then he called me, right after lunch, and when I picked up the phone and it was HIM!  I almost wet myself, seriously.  He told me that he was going to be in NY on Tuesday for a presentation, and would I like to get together for lunch?

HELL YEAH!!!

So– we went to this bar near where I work.  It wasn’t quite noon yet and the place was pretty much empty.  I got a beer, he got a glass of wine.  We kind of snuggled up together in a booth.

I asked him if he wanted to talk about the conversation we had the other night.

He said No, he just wanted to enjoy this time with me.

And then he leaned over and kissed me… it was a really sweet kiss, with tongue and everything, and I tell you I absolutely melted.  I put my hand on the crotch of his pants, and he was totally hard!

You know me, I’m not a wild girl, I’m not a brazen strumpet… well apparently I can do a pretty good impression of one when I feel like it!  I slipped under the table, tugged down his zipper, pulled out his hard cock, and started blowing him right then and there.  And L, I have to tell you, my brother is hung!  He’s not stupid big, just… sizeable.  It’s like the perfect size for a penis.  Nice and thick and well-shaped and delicious… God I enjoyed going down on him!  Apparently he enjoyed it too.  I sucked him really hard, as much of him as I could comfortable fit inside my mouth, while I jerked him off.  It took all of, oh I don’t know, a minute or so, and then he was squirming and humping back against me and his dick was pulsating and then he filled my hungry mouth with gobs and gobs and gobs of boy come.  And I swallowed it all.

When I came back up to the surface, I kissed him on the lips, and he kissed me back, hard.  I think we both wanted to just ditch work and jet back to my apartment pronto for more fun and games, but he had that presentation, and I really did have to get back to work.  (grrr, stupid work!).  On the way out, the bartender gave us a look…!  I think she was just jealous, dirty little slut.  Haha.

I was looking at our pictures later on, and there’s no way around it.  We look alike, we totally look like brother and sister.  Hell, we could easily be taken for twins, even though he’s a year and a half older than me.  No wonder that bartender was giving us the hairy eyeball.

Stefan called me later on after his presentation was over. He thanked me for not getting any stains on his pants, which made me giggle, and asked if I wanted to get together again this weekend.  Of course I said yes.  So I’m going to take the train down to Phili Friday night after work.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Love Always,

A

*****

(written on yellow legal paper in pencil)

L…

Shhh, Stefan’s still asleep!

I’ve got to get my shit together and get to the train station and back to NYC so I can go to work, but I don’t want to go!!!  I’d rather just stay here and play.

He met me at the train station.  He’d brought flowers, which was very sweet.  I wanted to go straight back to his place and rip all his clothes off, but he insisted on taking me out to dinner first.  Which was super sweet and gentlemanly and all, but totally unnecessary as it was already after ten and I was more horny than hungry.  We went to this nice quiet Italian place which turned out to be a little too quiet.  We got tired of waiting for our food to come and just split.  He was embarrassed, but it was fine by me.  We couldn’t keep our hands off each other in the taxi.  We were so bad!

Stefan has a basement apartment which is really small, but nice and comfortable.

[two lines are scratched out here}

I don’t know why I should be surprised at this point, his place felt really familiar and comfortable to me.  I could have lived there.  Anyway, as soon as the door closed behind us, clothes go flying.  I’m pulling off his clothes and he is tearing mine off.  Its funny, I wore matching bra and panties for him, this black skimpy lacey pair that I thought looked really sexy on me… I don’t think he ever even SAW them on me!

I am pleased to report that my brother looks at least as hot naked as he does dressed.  Especially with a big fat hard-on bobbling around.  Not that I had a lot of time to stand around and admire the view.  He picked me right up, carried me into his bedroom, and summarily deposited me onto his bed.

He started out be very graciously going down on me.  It was an unnecessary gesture– all I wanted right about then was his cock inside me!  Nonetheless, I have to say that Stefan is V*E*R*Y good at licking pussy… I was more than paid back for my under-the-table blowjob.

He very gentlemanly asked if he should put a condom on, and I said no.  He’s my brother after all, not some random dude.

And then he was inside me… Oh my gosh, I can’t even put into words how good it felt.  It was a perfect fit, like we were made for each other.  You know how usually the first time you have sex with someone, even if you’re crazy about each other and you’re both totally into it, it’s still a little clumsy at first?  This time not at all.  We found each other’s rhythm right away.  He starts pumping into me and I am humping back as hard as I can and he is gazing into my eyes, his face is a mask of concentration and I can feel my orgasm coming on and he wails out “Oh Shit I’m coming!” and we both came together….  I think I was really loud about it too. [smiley face] Oh, it was so goooood!  I liked the fact that his come was inside me too… it made me feel…

[word crossed out}

We fell asleep pretty much just like that, naked sweaty sticky, wrapped around each other.  Woke up at least once during the night and fucked again.  It was just so gooood!

Spent the next day (Yesterday… I can’t believe it was only yesterday, it already seems like centuries ago.  It already seems like Stefan and I have been together for ever) mostly in bed, popping out now and then for food and drink or to fuck around in the shower.  He showed me some of his pornography… he’s very cutely shy about that stuff, and it turns out we like the exact same stuff!!

Later on Stefan asked me very sweet and shy-like if he could fuck me in the ass.  Of course I said YES.  It turns out he’d never done that before.  It was really cute, he was really nervous about it… he didn’t need to be.  He could do anything he wanted to me!  Anyway, it was so fucking hot, having him fuck me like that…!  So intimate, so intense… I don’t think it would be inappropriate to call it a religious experience.  Did I mention that his dick is the perfect size?  I’ve never come just from anal sex before.  I didn’t even know it was actually possible!  I don’t think I even touched my clit! When we were cuddling later on, he suggested that we go buy a strap-on so he could experience that for himself.  I asked if he was serious and he blushed red and said ‘yeah, sure’.  Interesting idea, I sure wouldn’t say no to that…

And now here I am in Phili, getting ready to take a taxi to the train station.  My pussy is all raw and sore and I can smell him on me and I haven’t had any sleep and I grin every time I think of him and I am totally in a daze and I don’t want to go…..

Your Friend Always

A

*****

(on a piece of Days Inn stationary, written with a ball-point pen that keeps threatening to run out of ink.  There are scribbles in the margins where the writer has tried to re-activate the pen)

L-

I’ve been spending all my weekends with Stefan down in Phili.  I’m so happy when I’m with him and it’s not about the sex (ok, so maybe it is, but it’s not ALL about the sex) and I’m so lonely when we’re apart.  People are always asking us if we’re brother and sister, and we’ve started to get pretty good at looking surprised and saying ‘No, why do you ask?’ and they say ‘Oh, you two look like you’re related.’  I don’t know what to do… I’m in love with this guy.  Everyone would say this is so wrong.  Oh L, I really don’t know what we’re going to do.

A

*****

(there are no more letters)

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