Archive for July, 2011

The Body of a Man

I’m not sure how old I was when we found the body. The oncoming avalanche of adolescence had not yet totally engulfed me, but the first tendrils of my sexuality were swirling around my ankles, and the rumbling of those turbulent teenage years was bearing down fast. It was late one summer afternoon, just after our weekly Girl Scout meeting, and my friend Aimee and I were teetering on the very brink, not quite ready to take the plunge, but way too far gone to want to back out.

There was a patch of woods behind our development, too wet and marshy for the developers to build houses on, so they had left it, a kind of irregular green isthmus, tangled and soggy and bug-ridden and private. We were headed to a little flat place that I knew of, next to the stream, for some ‘practice kissing’. I had a fairly good idea where that might lead, and I thought that Aimee did to, for all her show of hesitation and reluctance.

He was lying, face-up in the mud, a little ways off from the little stream that ran through the middle of the woods. He was wearing blue jeans with the knees torn out and a denim vest with no shirt on underneath. His feet were bare, his toes pointed skyward. There was no sign of any violence. In retrospect, I suspect that it was an overdose. The only way we knew he was dead, at first, was his eyes: half-open and staring upward, already glassy and lifeless.

I thought I knew him. I thought he’d gone to high school with my older brother, Ted. He was one of those guys who hung out in front of Emil’s gas station; scary, shady, criminal-looking, sexy, dangerous guys. His blonde hair was cut in a mullet; business in the front, party in the back. A couple large black flies were lazily circling his body, intermittently landing and taking nervously back off.

“Touch him” Aimee told me.

“No Way!”

“I dare you to,” Aimee said. There was something coquettish about the way she said it, something that warmed that special spot between my legs, the region my mother called my ‘pussywillow’, the place that I had already started privately thinking of as my ‘cunt’. “I double dare you!” Her eyes sparkled flirtatiously, and it made my cunt tingle and buzz in a deliciously tantalizing sort of way.

His skin was pale, whiter than in life. It was uncannily like touching an uncooked hamburger, soft and firm. His flesh felt strangely cold for such a warm afternoon. I jerked my finger away with a thrill and a squeal.

“You know what I heard about guys, when they die?” Aimee asked.


“I heard they get wood. Boners. Big time woodies!”

“Eeeeewwww!” we squealed together, running giggling away into the woods.

We only made it a hundred yards or so; it was a small patch of woods. A little ways away we found a likely spot, a fallen tree that looked comfortable to sit on, and we sat.

I don’t think either one of us considered calling the police about the corpse lying there in the mud, or telling an adult. For one thing, that would have raised uncomfortable questions about what we were doing down in the woods and why; for another thing we had other, more pressing business on our minds.

My hand found hers, or her hand found mine, and our fingers intertwined and squeezed. Our lips met, pressed together. Mouths opened, allowing tongues to dart and flirt, in and out, like nervous, excited puppies.

I slipped my hand inside Aimee’s blouse, cupping the soft, warm swell of her budding breast through her bra. She made a whining, keening noise, and pressed her body against mine, kissing me harder, encouraging my touch.

Her hand had strayed between my thighs, up under my uniform skirt, and was now tackling the barrier of my panties. Far from hesitant or reluctant now, Aimee’s fingers pushed my panties aside, and danced lewdly up and down the soft, furry, damp territory, making me moan aloud into her mouth. Practice kissing indeed! Aimee and I did a lot of practice kissing that summer and into the fall; I lost track of her when we went to different high schools.

Fast forward twenty years.

I was hanging out in Martin’s apartment, three-quarters naked, sprawled out on his bed. It was high summer in New York City, and he didn’t have air conditioning at the time, and it was muggy, hot and sticky.

“Are we going to act out my fantasy now?” I asked only a tiny little bit peevishly. Martin was my boyfriend, had been since April.

“Your fantasy is disturbing,” Martin said. He was naked, flaccid, sweaty, delicious. Just a few minutes before I’d had a mouth full of his cock. “Your fantasy gives me the creeps.”

“Aw, come on!” I rolled over onto my back, regarding his nakedness from upside-down. “We did your fantasy, didn’t we?”

It was true. The previous Wednesday, I had assiduously plucked Martin’s eyebrows and painted his nails while our friend Tobi (flaming gay Tobi who did costumes and makeup for off-off-Broadway productions) applied makeup and did his hair. We squeezed him into a cute little purple dress; we padded his bra; Tobi had brought along a pair of cowboy boots that fit Martin and looked quite chic.

And then we went, Martin and me, out on the town. After a nervous, giggly drink or three, we ended up at a tiny lesbian dance club down in Alphabet City called “The Pussy Palace”.

It was dark inside, and the music was loud. Martin is not an especially small guy; he stands a full head taller than me, and he has hands like catcher’s mitts. But out on the dance floor, in the dim, sweaty haze, under flashing colored lights, nobody looked twice. We were just another pair of dykes dancing together: a tall, kind of butch girl in a short summer dress; and her shorter, bustier, somewhat chunkier, more femme girlfriend.

Someone looked twice at us. Uninvited, a girl started dancing around us, and then with us. She was cute: my height, but skinnier, with fuchsia hair and multiple ear piercings and a rather pixie-like, suggestively angelic angular face. She wore tight black jeans that showed off a sexy little ass, and a black AC/DC t-shirt.

The three of us danced together for a while, riding the rhythms of the music, enjoying and amplifying and reverberating the tension we were generating. Eventually, inevitably, we migrated up to the roof, a large, tar-papered flat expanse three stories up. The skyscrapers of Manhattan loomed over us like obelisks and monoliths, and the stars and moon were drowned out by a leaden ceiling of low cloud. The roof was bathed in a twilight-glow of reflected light pollution.

I’d been up on this roof before, back in my more exclusively sapphic days. There was a smattering of couples, dispersed around the perimeter, in various stages of making out. We staked our claim to a quiet corner of rooftop and started getting to know each other a little better.

There was kissing all around. New Girl was an aggressive kisser, with a tongue like a weasel, and she was a biter. Kissing Martin dressed as a woman felt pleasantly odd to me, out of context, strange and yet familiar in a tantalizingly sexy way. Watching them kiss each other was just plain hot.

Martin was half-sitting on the parapet, and New Girl and I were pressed up against him. I felt hand traversing my body, feeling me up, groping me, squeezing my ass and cupping and rubbing my breasts, and I couldn’t tell whose hands belonged to whom. My pussy was wet and squishy, my clit was erect, and my entire body was giddily jittery with excitement. Not just sexual excitement either, we were about to get found out, busted, and I wasn’t at all sure how that discovery would go over.

Martin’s dress had ridden up around his waist. His pretty pink panties were visible in the gloaming. New Girl’s hands were roaming, exploring, traipsing their leisurely way up his muscular thighs as she kissed him.  Any second now she would find out.

Her hand slipped inside the frilly waistband of his panties. We all three stopped, frozen in time. I watched her face intently, as my heartbeat counted the seconds away: startled; confused; dawning realization; pleasurably surprised.

“Oh, verrrry interesting, a genuine trouser snake! I haven’t played with one of these in years!”

She fished Martin’s erect cock out of his sassy panties. He was rock hard, practically glowing, and the tip was all wet with his oozing juices. I love Martin’s cock; I think it is the perfect size for a penis: not so big as to be intimidating, but definitely on the larger than mean end of the bell curve, with more emphasis on hefty girth then length, and a fat, sharply defined head like the helmet of a WWII German soldier.

His balls hung down, fat and ripe like some strange fruit, masculine and delicate, until recently furry, but shaved bare for the occasion.

New Girl slid down Martin’s body, ending up on her knees, and started sloppily giving him head.

I set about relieving her of her tight black jeans; quite a project with her kneeling on the tarpaper between Martin’s legs, mouth and both hands busily occupied; but I was finally able to tug them off. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Her naked white butt shone like a full moon in the low light. Her pussy was a neatly groomed patch of soft black hair; fat pinkish purple labia pouted out from between puffy outer lips, drooling with excitement. A few stray hairs curled around her delicate, winking, pink little asshole.

I played with her pussy while she noisily sucked Martin’s dick. She was very hot, very wet, and very slippery. I slowly traced the length of her slit, making her squirm, and brought my sticky fingers to my lips: she tasted clean, sweaty but clean, salty and a little spicy. She reminded me of cinnamon.

She came up off his cock with a pop, gasping for air and a big fat grin on her face. She wrangled my cami top off, and it joined her jeans on the tarpaper roof. The three of us kissed for a while more as she fondled my breasts and sucked my nipples, and Martin fingered her pussy, and she played with Martin’s hard cock. We must have been a sight up there on the parapet; three girls getting it on, two of them bottomless and one of them topless. A sight for sore eyes, but not such an unusual sight, at least not on that particular roof.

The touching and the fondling was getting to be too much; the delights of anticipation were being overwhelmed by the need for release. The kisses broke off; Martin fished a condom out of his purse, tore open the wrapper, and rolled it onto his rigid, bobbing cock. New Girl climbed onto his lap, straddling him, facing away from me, out toward the thousand windows of the city at night.

I felt a burning stab of jealousy as I watched Martin’s condom-sheathed cock –my boyfriend’s cock—slithering in between New Girl’s thighs, squishing up and down her juicy vulva; but the sensation was washed away by a rising tide of pure horny sexiness as she maneuvered her pussy into position, poising herself like a pole-sitter, balanced perfectly atop his straining, bulbous, latex-covered glans.

As I watched, rapt, she lowered herself gingerly down onto him, engulfing his ample cock with a satisfied sigh. It was way better than any porn, ever.

She started moving up and down atop him, kissing him viciously and mauling his fake tits. I licked his condom-covered cock when it slid out of her, licked her pussy stretched tight around his member, licked his sweaty, smooth, swollen balls, pried apart her cheeks and licked her tiny little asshole. When his cock popped out of her pussy, I swallowed him whole, and tried to cram my tongue up her gasping cunt, before helping to stick his dick back inside her.

Their movements were getting more and more frantic, their tempo was raising, approaching crescendo. I had a finger up New Girl’s butt, and I could feel Martin’s cock moving inside her. It was hot.

I slipped one long, slippery finger up the tight, muscular entrance to Martin’s asshole, shoving my probing finger in all the way up to the knuckle. His anus grasped me tight, and with a long, drawn-out, unintelligible guttural, rumbling growl, he came, humping violently up at the night sky, pummeling New Girl’s cunt.

His orgasm set her off, and she came, arching her back, fingering her clit, howling like a coyote, a long, slowly trailing off series of yip-yipe-yips. When his softened dick finally slid out of her exhausted pussy, her hands were shaking. Martin’s makeup was smeared all over his face. He looked like a tramp.

Later on that night, in the back of a taxicab, drunk and disheveled, sweaty, wired and tired, we kissed and made out on the way home. The driver watched curiously in the rearview mirror.

“That was hot!” Martin told me. One of his breasts had come askew and I adjusted it for him.

“Yeah it was,” I said. The plan had gone perfectly, far better than I could have ever hoped for.

He had his hand down the front of my pants and he was fingering me. My pussy was still juicy wet, and it felt nice, but it wasn’t going to get me off.

“We should do that one again!” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. The cab driver was stopped at a green light, staring at my unzipped crotch, “Most definitely.”

Fast forward to the following week.

“We did your fantasy. It was hot. Now we should do mine. Isn’t that only fair?”

“Ok, ok,” he said, “We’ll do it then.”

It was Saturday. Martin hadn’t answered his cell phone all day, which was unusual. We were supposed to be getting together for dinner, and I still hadn’t heard from him.

I let myself into his building –he had given me keys ages ago—and walked up the five echoing, paint-peeling flights to his apartment.

There was blood everywhere. A trail of gore led in streaks and dribbles from his kitchen, through the living room, and away into the bedroom. His bedroom door was closed.

I opened the door with trepidation. It looked like a scene out of horror movie, the kind from the ‘80s that I hadn’t been allowed to watch growing up, but I’d watched anyway. The trail of blood was thicker here, and led straight to the bed. Blood was spattered everywhere; the sheets were soaked scarlet red, blood splashed all over the wall, and to the far corners of the room; a few drops had even managed to hit the ceiling. A blood-smeared butcher knife lay on the floor, blurry red fingerprints on the handle.

Martin lay, face up and unmoving, on the bed. The crimson tide was centered on his t-shirt, no longer white, but soaked through with blood. His blue jeans were black with blood, gore streaked up his neck and onto his face.

His eyes were closed, his skin was pale. I gingerly touched him. His skin was clammy cool, and felt remarkably like uncooked hamburger.

My heart was beating so hard inside my chest I was afraid it might burst. I was pumped full of adrenaline, my fight-or-flight instincts kicking in hard and fast. My hands were shaking. Under my skirt, my panties were wet.

Carefully, with trembling fingers, I undid the buttons of his fly. His cock sprung out and up, like a stout branch of oak tree, hard as wood.

I ditched my skirt, and tossed my panties aside, taking care to keep them out of the congealing pool of blood. Then I climbed onto the bed, straddling Martin’s prone body. My knees and ankles were instantly smeared gory red. The bloody sheets felt squishy and sticky underneath me.

I grasped his erection in both hands beneath me, handling it like a dildo. My cunt was hungry and drooling. I luxuriated in it, teasing myself, sliding my vulva up and down his length, stimulating my horny, swollen clit with his inert, rigid tool.

I rocked back and forth, grinding my juicy cunt onto his hard dick, taking my pleasure in jolts and shocks, his body laid out below me like a corpse on an autopsy table.

No more teasing, no more torment. I lifted up and plunged down, relishing the sensation of penetration, the sudden fullness.

I fucked his hard cock, riding his lifeless body like a cowgirl astride a mechanical bull. There was no him, it was just me, just the angle I liked, just the tempo I needed. I felt my orgasm coming on, and redoubled my efforts, bouncing up and down like an ecstatic little girl on a pogo stick.

I came, and I came hard, grunting and huffing and puffing, my cunt contracting and my toes curling, pummeling his blood-soaked chest with balled-up fists. It was an awesome come, and it left me grinning and relaxed, riding the edge of that wave, ready for some more!

For just a moment, a bird’s-eye vision of the scene flashed through my head: me straddling my boyfriend’s corpse, fucking him obliviously away in a veritable pool of his life’s blood. The image only made me hotter.

I felt his dick twitch inside me as I bounced, though his prone body remained still, and I felt his hot semen flood my cunt, and that triggered my second orgasm, which might not have been as intense as the first, but rumbled on much longer, like thunder in the distance, and left me gasping.

At long last, I had had enough. I was sated, my cunt was tired and getting raw. I climbed carefully off him, leaving his erection still stiff as hardwood, pointing at the ceiling, slick and gooey with my juices. Our co-mingled come leaked freely from my cunt. I was more or less covered in blood, like a five-year old who had gotten hold of red finger-paints.

Martin sat up stiffly and shook his head. “How was that?” he asked.

“Fantastic!” I gushed, “Totally fucking awesome!!”

The pills he’d taken kept his dick obnoxiously hard. I tried giving him a blowjob/handjob, to no avail. Then he tried masturbating, but it just wasn’t happening. There was no second orgasm in the cards for him, and he was stuck with a big fat boner until the drugs wore off. It looked kind of uncomfortable. I was tempted to climb on for another ride, but my parts were already sore and tender.

It took forever to clean up. The sheets were a total loss; we were still finding splotches of fake blood in odd places around the apartment days later. Martin thought Tobi had overdone the gore, but I thought he’d done just fine.

“I soaked in a cold bathtub for like an hour to get my temperature down.”

“I know, it was awesome!”

“That was kind of creepy,” Martin said, “I’m not sure I liked that. Let’s not do this one again, ok?”

Oh, we’d definitely be doing that one again!


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Cough Syrup and Cruise Control

…please Daddy-O, can i have a little more cough syrup now?

…sure you can Half Pint, sure you can. you can have all you want. get me another beer out of the cooler while you’re at it, won’t you sweet little thing?

…i like the way cough syrup tastes Daddy-O, it makes my insides feel all funny.

…that’s right Half Pint, it tastes good and it’s good for you too. ‘cause it’s medicine that’s why… oh boy what a night! what a freaking be-yoot-i-ful night! we’ve got nothing but blacktop in front of us, four-lane scientific superhighway all the way; we got the top down, nothing but stars above, we got cruise control, and we got benzedrine. open me up another can of beer, won’t ya babydoll?

…can we pull over and stop somewhere soon Daddy-O? i’ve gotta go pee.

…i’m sorry Half Pint, you’re just gonna have to hold it. we got a long way to drive tonight.

…but Daddy-O, i’ve gotta go bad!

…squeeze your legs together Half Pint. hold it in. i told you before, we ain’t stoppin’ til we hit reno.

…ok Daddy-O, i’ll try.

…that’s right Half Pint. hold my hand, that’ll help.

…oops …oh no Daddy-O, some just leaked out.

…oh no. oh no Half Pint. oh well, don’t worry, it’s not your fault. now you’ve gone and wet your pants, you might as well just let it all go. let it all out baby, just relax and let all the peepee come out…. that’s right babydoll.

…gosh Daddy-O, i’m so sorry! i made a big mess.

…don’t you worry Half Pint. don’t fret. don’t cry now, it’s just a little peepee. you better get out of those wet things. that’s right, take those wet panties off too. we can’t have you sitting in peepee wet pants all night… better throw them out of the car, let the wind take them now, throw them out into the night… come on Half Pint, don’t cry… we’ll get you new panties in reno. have a little more cough syrup. there there… doesn’t the night air feel good on your naked skin? don’t worry Half Pint, nobody can see us. it’s just you and me and the stars above. and maybe a passing truck driver or two, all whacked out on speed and hallucinating freely, cranking their big rigs on across the night… maybe they’ll honk their big horns and flash their lights at us.

…thank you Daddy-O, that feels so much better! i kind of like being naked in the car with you. i can’t wait til we get to reno.

…me too Half Pint, me too… say baby, would you pop me another benny? and a beer to wash it down with? …oh yeah… aw shoot, wouldn’t you know it? now Daddy-O’s gotta pee too. i just hate those gas station restrooms, don’t you? they’re always so dirty, and the guy behind the counter always looks at you like you’re doing something wrong, like you’re a criminal or something. you know what to do, don’t you Half Pint? that’s right, that’s a good girl. take it in your mouth. carefully now, you don’t want to spill any. once urine gets into a car’s upholstery, you can never get the smell out. that’s it…. aaahhh… …damn, that feels good! what a good girl, you swallowed every last drop! good work Half Pint! …aw now look what you’ve gone and done! you’ve made Daddy-O’s dick get all big and hard. well don’t stop now Half Pint! …oh yeah… oh god yeah… oh fuck yes, fuck yes! god damn Half Pint, you were just born to suck cock! that’s right, play with Daddy-O’s big fat ball sac, play with his butt hole… oh yeah Half Pint, stick your finger straight up Daddy-O’s asshole! oh shit Half Pint, you’re taking my dick like a sword swallower! i must be halfway down your throat! oh boy i’m all over the road! oh shit, i’m gonna come, i’m gonna come right in your fucking mouth! …oh fuck! oh fuck! oh yes! …ah yeah, yeah, oh baby thank you!

…i like doing that to you Daddy-O.

…i like it when you do that to me Half Pint…

…now i’m all wet again down there Daddy-O.

…it’s not peepee wet now, is it Half Pint?

…no Daddy-O, it’s the other kind of wet.

…let me touch it.

…oh, that tickles!

…do you want me to stop?

…no Daddy-O, don’t stop! …that feels good…

….look out how pretty your little cunny is. look at how pink and wet it is, just like a pretty little flower. you like it when i play with your little button like this don’t you? should i play with your butt hole too? do you like it when i do that?

…oh yes Daddy-O yes… oh! oh! oh! …oh Daddy-O, you made me come!

…i know.

…thank you Daddy-O. …when we get to reno can we get a hotel room?

…oh yeah. we’ll get the biggest, best hotel room in the city.

…will you do it to me there Daddy-O? will you fuck me in my cunt?

…don’t use that word Half Pint! i hate it when you use obscenities! you can call it your vagina, or call it your cunny, but don’t curse. it ain’t ladylike.

…i’m sorry Daddy-O. i won’t curse. will you put your thing in my cunny when we get there?

…yes i will Half Pint. oh yes i will.

…and will you do it to me in my butt hole too?

…i’ll do it where ever you want Half Pint.

…i love you Daddy-O. …how much further to reno?

…not too far Half Pint, not too far. a couple, three or four more hours. i love you too Half Pint. … pop me another benzedrine, won’t you babydoll? when we get to reno, i’m gonna buy you the nicest, prettiest dress. i’ll buy you a pearl necklace, and a gold bracelet with jewels in it. i’m gonna buy me a gen-u-wine gold toothpick. we’ll get us a whole case of cough syrup. nothing can stop us now Half Pint… spread your cunny wide, so the whole night can see… i got the cruise control set at ninety-five. i’m turning the headlights off now. we’re like a shooting star baby, a meteorite on fire, streaking across the desert sky… ain’t nothing can stop us now.


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Becky’s Dojo

Dinner was beige. Beige and starchy, and mostly straight out of a can. My sister-in-law Becky is a woman of many talents, but cooking is not one of them.

Butch, my husband, and his brother John had talked golf all the way through dinner, and were now settling in to watch the game on tv. The kids were squabbling more or less peaceably in the play room. Me and Becky were left with the cleaning up.

I was married to a man who played golf, talked golf, and watched football with his brother while leaving me with the dishes. It was just too depressing to contemplate. How had my life ever come to this?

I wondered if Becky ever felt the same way. I didn’t know her very well. Butch and I had gone to their wedding back when we were dating. We’d been together almost ten years now, four of those years as a married couple. Would I do it all over again? I thought about it. I couldn’t think of anything I’d do differently, anything that was actually wrong. I just felt vaguely dissatisfied. Incomplete.

Becky didn’t look dissatisfied as she loaded dirty plates into the dishwasher. Actually she looked hot. For a woman who was three years older than me, and who had two kids, she was in pretty awesome shape. She had a really nice ass, I couldn’t help noticing. And wondering what exactly she was wearing under those jeans. If this was twenty years ago, if we were in college together, I might have had to make a pass at her.

I was suddenly horny. When was the last time me and Butch had had sex? Oh yeah, it had been last Friday night, after dinner. It had been nice.

Nice. I had never wanted to have a sex life that was ‘nice’.

Dishes done, we sat at the island in the kitchen in front of their collection of knives, sipping diet ice tea. I would have killed at that moment, absolutely killed for a beer, but John was a recovering alcoholic and there was no booze in the house.

Becky seemed… wholesome; a more-or-less idealized version of the American Housewife. She was pretty, smart, competent, and a lousy cook; she stayed home while John made more money than Butch and me put together. We visited them a couple times a year; they weren’t geographically far away, but nearly two hours by the convoluted streets and highways of New York and New Jersey.

Her eyes lit up when it came out that we’d both studied Kung-Fu. She said she had practice mats set up in the basement. She said she liked to spar down there with some of her girlfriends. It was the one thing, she confided in me, the one thing that kept her from going completely insane.

I hadn’t kept up with it. I hadn’t practiced in years. I hadn’t sparred since college. She insisted. The guys will be busy with the game for hours. The kids are playing by themselves, they’ll be fine. I demurred. She insisted.

The basement was semi-finished, with unpainted sheetrock walls and compact fluorescent lights that may have been eco-friendly and efficient, but cast a harsh, ugly, relatively dim light. There were a couple of battered old grey gym mats down on the concrete floor, a large diameter circle spray-painted roughly in the middle.

Becky pulled off her jeans and top. She was wearing black boy shorts and a matching black sports bra that kept her sizable breasts held tightly in check. I stripped out of my street clothes, sort of wishing that I’d chosen to wear something sexier than my old off-white panties and clunky flesh-colored bra. Back in college, I used to just go commando half the time. ‘I wonder what she would have made of that,’ I thought, ‘Now that might have been interesting.’

We stood, facing each other, at opposite sides of the circle. Automatically, we both bowed. I let myself fall into the old, familiar stance, half-crouching, my center of gravity low. Upstairs, I was dimly aware of the muted noise of the game filtering down through the floor.

Becky and I made eye contact, and I felt a thrilling rush of adrenaline. I was suddenly fit, strong, fierce, hyper-aware, a predatory animal. God, I’d missed this!! We slowly approached each other across the mat, stalking like a couple of prowling cats.

I made a sudden, feinting lunge toward her, testing her defenses. She grabbed my arm mid-swing, pivoted, and suddenly I was flying, tumbling, spinning on three axes. I landed flat on my back with a hard WHUMP that knocked the wind right out of me. Becky was on top of me, kneeling on me, pinning me, my head between her knees, the weight of her body on my chest. Her pussy was so close to my face I could have kissed it through the crotch of her panties if only I could have moved my head. I could feel her heat; I could almost smell her. No, I could smell her; not her pussy per se, but her sweat, her excitement, a faint whiff of deodorant.

“Get up!” she barked, springing to her feet, “Get the fuck back up!”

The room was still rotating slowly. I gave my head a vigorous shake and gingerly stood back up. She kicked my feet out from under me, and down I went again, WHUMP!

“Up!” Becky commanded, “Get back up, Young Dragonfly!”

This time I was ready for her. As I slowly got back up on my feet, she sent a vicious roundhouse kick toward my head. I ducked, and rushed her, fists flying.

She rolled out of my way before I could connect, and suddenly she was behind me. I was slammed face-first into the wall. Her hand was on my throat, poised to snap my neck; my arm was wrenched behind my back; and her pantied crotch pressed hard against my ass.

It seemed Becky had studied at a different dojo than me. The women’s Kung-Fu group I had belonged to had been mostly about empowerment, self-defense, and exercise. Becky’s dojo seemed to be all about kicking ass. Her hand was pressed hard against my pounding jugular, ready to crush my esophagus.

We stayed that way for a long moment, both of us breathing hard.

“Ok, ok. You win” I managed to croak.

Slowly, she relaxed her grip on me, her hand sliding down my neck and gently, almost shyly cupping my breast. Her pussy remained pressed snugly against my buttocks.

“Your Kung-Fu’s pretty good, Dragonfly,” she said, letting go and stepping back and away from me. “You’re just out of practice, that’s all. We should do this again sometime. Sometime soon.”

The game was still going on upstairs. I sat and watched the final quarter in a daze, absorbing nothing, aware only of how hard my heart was beating, how wet and slippery my pussy felt, and how obnoxiously hard and horny my clit was. It was about all I could do to not surreptitiously masturbate right there in the easy chair as the guys cheered the final touchdown drive and Becky organized the kids for bedtime.

Butch and me had sex that night. It was nice sex. I almost cried out for him to fuck me in the ass, but I didn’t. When was the last time we’d had anal sex? I honestly couldn’t remember. Anyway, the sex was nice. I was really turned on, and he went down on me, bringing me to the brink several times before sliding his thick cock up my pussy and fucking me with a deep and satisfying rhythm. We orgasmed simultaneously, as we nearly always do, and then he slowly, gently pulled out, rolling the condom off and tossing it into the trash. I wished we didn’t need condoms, but we’d more or less decided we didn’t want kids, and the pill wreaks havoc with my endocrine system, so there you go. He kissed me very sweetly before rolling over to his side of the bed and drifting off to sleep.

I quietly masturbated myself to a second orgasm next to him, thinking about my sleeping husband’s brother’s wife. I wondered what she tasted like; I wondered what she sounded like when she came; I wondered what it would be like to kiss her; I imagined what it would be like to lick her pussy. When was the last time I had sex with a girl? I could figure out exactly how long it had been if I thought about it, but that was almost too depressing. It had been years, since long before Butch and I had even gotten together.

I started working out a lot, hitting the gym really aggressively. I lifted weights until my muscles quivered. I did pushup and crunches and pull-ups and more pushups. I ran until I thought I was going to puke, and then I kept on running. I did my old Kung-Fu drills, shifting from stance to stance, lunging at invisible opponents, ducking invisible kicks and punches, trying to make myself more like bamboo and less like an oak tree.

At the gym, I caught guys, and occasionally girls, looking my way. I smiled back, a fierce, edgy, competitive flirtation that gave lie to the gold ring on my finger. One girl approached me in the locker room. She said her name was Brianna, and she was cute. A girly girl kind of cute; not exactly my type, back when I’d had a type. I told her I was married, but she left her phone number on a little slip of paper folded up on my towel anyway.

It was my idea that we spend a Saturday with John and Becky and the kids. Butch seemed slightly surprised that I would suggest a day with the in-laws, but he was into the idea, so we went.

As it happened, we ended up dividing forces: Butch and John took Megan out for mini-golf and ice cream, while Becky and I were to stay home with little Emily. Perhaps not a completely equitable arrangement, but I certainly wasn’t complaining!

Becky was resplendent in a foxy red dress, cut to the mid-thighs with big red buttons running up the back that just begged to be slowly and leisurely un-fastened. It did not look like the kind of dress you would wear around the house to do chores and look after a rambunctious two-year old.

Which is exactly what we did: washed dishes, watched cartoons, played games, did some tidying up. We chatted and gossiped like (and I shuddered to think it, but it was true), like a pair of middle-aged housewives.

Then Emily went down for her nap. I was unloading the dishwasher, putting away glassware. Becky came into the kitchen, brushing cookie crumbs of the front of her red dress. “You wanna go downstairs and do a little Kung-Fu?”

Down in the basement, I watched hungrily as Becky stripped out of that sassy red dress. Underneath, she was wearing sensible black panties and a rigid-looking black bra. I felt suddenly silly and ashamed of the frilly little red thong I’d chosen to wear, and the fact that I was wearing a camisole with no bra on underneath.

Becky watched me intently as I stepped topless into the ring and performed the ritual bow. “I like your style, Young Dragonfly” She said it lightly, but her eyes were flinty-hard and intense. I felt my nipples harden beneath her stare.

I dropped into a crouch, and this time when she came flying at me, I was ready, dropping and rolling out of the way, coming up with a flurry of kicks and punches that had her dancing back, just out of reach.

I aimed a punch right at her solar plexus. She grabbed my wrist and twisted, but I had anticipated the move, and I went along with it, spinning around and sending her flying. She landed easily on her feet, laughing. I was panting, my naked breasts flushed and shaking.

“Stop trying to hit me and hit me!” Becky said.

“Do you think that’s air you’re breathing?” I rejoined.

She punched me square in the face, breaking my nose.

Becky helped me pop the cartilage back into place. It hurt a lot, and I had to bite down hard not to scream. Becky smiled and rested her hand lightly for a moment on the front of my silly lace panties. I almost came just from that touch. I groaned out loud, and lifted my pelvis up toward her, begging for more. She ignored my frustration, fetched me a wet washcloth and an icepack, and we both got dressed.

Butch actually seemed to believe my ridiculous story about tripping over a push-toy and falling down the stairs. John clucked sympathetically, and said something about how Becky should be better about making the kids put their toys away. Becky said she hoped we’d see each other again soon, and squeezed my hand in parting, making my pussy get wet and squooshy all over again.

The nose healed pretty quickly, but while it was still discolored and swollen, I felt oddly proud of it. I got a lot of questions and comments at work, but what I really enjoyed was fantasizing about what they must be whispering behind my back.

Butch and me started having a lot more sex. For the first few years we were together, we’d had amazing sex, six or seven times a week. Gradually, the intensity had faded, and it had become routine. Suddenly our sex life had gotten a jump-start. It was still nice sex, but there was a lot more of it, and I wasn’t complaining. Neither was Butch.

I was working out harder than I’d ever done in my life. Without even meaning to, I lost eight pounds. I was running too much, and gave myself shin splints, so I started swimming instead.

I started looking at a lot of internet porn. Before work, after work before Butch came home, late at night after having nice sex with him, sometimes surreptitiously in my office at work. I’d looked at porn before; Butch and I used to watch it together sometimes, back when you rented VHS tapes from a seedy little store with taped-over windows and yellow and red signs proclaiming GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS XXX; but our taste in porn was different. Neither one of us was big on mainstream pornography; gigantic breasts and oversized penises. He liked for there to be at least a modicum of storyline, and he liked pretty girls. I liked edgy, slightly scary girls with tattoos and piercings; and I liked to watch people fucking without too much plot to get in the way.

I thought about calling Brianna, the girl who had left me her number in the locker room, and arranging a rendezvous. I thought about it, and then decided I couldn’t.

I masturbated so much I made permanent stain on my computer chair at home. I watched girls fucking each other with strap-ons, 69ing, having all-girl threesomes, fucking, licking, fingering themselves and each other.


I aimed a kick directly at Becky’s head, but she easily ducked under my extended foot and danced in close to me. She yanked my panties down, exposing my pussy, which until recently had been an unruly, fluffy muff but that on a whim I had decided to shave. The underwear around my knees hobbled me, and she casually kicked my feet out from under me. As I went down, she kneed me in the chin, and stood above me, laughing as I spit blood onto the grey vinyl mat.

One half-drunk night when Butch was working late at the office, I tried out one of those Cam Girl sites. I paid up my money, and waited to see what would happen.

The girl I got was kind of cute, in a skinny sort of way. She was Eastern European, Romanian, I think. She seemed nice, and if she was surprised to see an older American woman watching her strip, she didn’t show it. We exchanged names and pleasantries; I lied about my age and told her I was 30, she lied about her age and told me she was nineteen. I’m not sure which of us was lying more. Formalities dispensed with, the show began.

She did a strip tease for me while I watched and slowly fingered myself. When she was naked, she started oscillating around, describing a sine wave with her hips, pinching her nipples seductively and running her fingers back and forth across her shaved pussy. The whole effect seemed rather artificial, mechanical. She told me to imagine eating her out. She told me to imagine her licking my pussy. I did. I was definitely wet and slippery. I told her I was close to coming. She said ‘Oh yes Baby, yes” and I came, and she smiled a really big smile, like she was proud of what she had done. It was a pretty good orgasm, but not earth-shaking. I thanked her and logged off.

I called Becky up in the middle of the day, asked what she was doing.

“Nothing much,” she said, “The kids are in daycare and Jimmy is at work. Why? Did you want to come over and do some Kung-Fu?”

I told her I’d be there in half an hour. I made up a doctor’s appointment and ditched out of work. Forty-five minutes later, I was knocking on her door.

We went straight down to the basement and stripped out of our street clothes. I was wearing work underwear, nothing very exciting. Becky had on her habitual black panties and jog bra. I wondered if she owned any other kind.

“Take your bra off too,” Becky told me.

“Why?” I asked, slightly taken aback. I don’t know why I was surprised.

“Well, so I can look at your breasts, Young Dragonfly, while I kick your ass.” She smiled.

I unsnapped my bra, setting the girls free. Becky squirmed out of her own sports bra. Her tits were significantly bigger than me, large and round, like a pair of cantaloupes, with pink areolae the size of CDs and shy little dimpled nipples. They jiggled and swayed as she moved. I figured they must get in the way when she was fighting.

We bowed. Cautiously, we approached each other across the mat. I tried not to be distracted by her swaying breasts. I ducked under a flying kick aimed at my head; I popped up inside her defenses and punched her in the stomach, making her OOF.

She flipped backward, taking me with her. I was suddenly off balance and reeling. She punched me full on the tit and it hurt. I blocked another punch and another, but she kept coming, overpowering me. She grabbed my wrist and twisted, flinging me against the wall, so hard it cracked the drywall. It knocked the wind straight out of me.

Becky was on me in a second, like a pouncing spider. Her steely left hand caught me by the throat, pinning me where I stood gasping for air, my backside pressed hard against the sheetrock. Her right hand tore my panties aside, started roughly grinding into my pussy, rubbing me hard, mashing my labia.

She found me wet, and her touch immediately made me more so. The hand around my throat didn’t relax one iota. The fingers on my pussy probed and slid inside. I gasped and whimpered.

She finger-fucked my pussy hard; hard, fast, and deep, with two fingers. Her fingers in my cunt actually lifted me up off the mat. I was crushed against the wall; I could barely breathe past the hand on my larynx.

“Come for me!” Becky chanted as she rammed her fingers deep inside me, “Come! Come! Come!” She kissed me on the lips, then bit down hard, threatening to tear my lower lip off. Her big breasts were pressed hard against my own.

I did come, screaming incoherently, humping wildly back against her. Her kiss became more tender, the hand on my throat finally relaxed. When it was over, I crumpled to the ground, a sweaty, sticky, battered mess. My panties were soaked.

She assiduously licked her fingers off, like a big, self-satisfied cat, and watched me shakily get dressed.

As soon as I got home, before I even showered, I wacked off to filthy internet porn. When Butch got home, I pounced on him, pulling him onto the couch and fishing his dick out, not even giving him time to get undressed. We didn’t use a condom. I came quickly on his hard cock, and then I climbed off him and finished him with my mouth, enjoying my tangy taste on his dick, relishing his moans, tickling his balls and the vicinity of his anus, devouring him, relishing the hot load of semen he finally squirted into my mouth. If he noticed the bruises on my throat, he didn’t say anything.

Butch made a Saturday golf date with John, somewhere out in suburban New Jersey, and I asked if I could tag along, hang out with Becky and the kids. In the past I would have made excuses, gone to great lengths to avoid that kind of an outing. Butch raised his eyebrows, but assented.

While Butch and John teed off, Becky and I took the kids to the zoo. She was wearing shorts that showed off her long, muscular legs, and a skimpy top that offered tantalizing views of her bouncy bust. While the kids watched the monkeys playing, I surreptitiously ogled Becky’s body. She had a little bit of a tummy going on. I knew that underneath that belly she was rock-hard, but still, it was there. Her big boobs had held up remarkably well for her age; when she was 21, they must have been glorious. There were little crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes, and I was pretty certain that her strawberry-blonde hair was dyed. Overall, she looked like the archetypical all-American housewife. Except for her forearms, which looked like they belonged to Popeye on a spinach bender.

All day she was perfectly friendly and correct with me; there was no hint of the woman who had repeatedly kicked my ass in the ring, punched me in the nose, manhandled my pussy. The children were being fussy, the sun was hot, and Becky seemed distracted. She mentioned to me that her husband was up for a new job, an even better-paying and more prestigious position, halfway across the country in Tennessee.

Butch has had the same job since we’ve been together. His position is neither very prestigious, nor very well-paying; but he does have to work late a lot.

It was frustrating to be with her like that. I wanted to get naked with her, to fight fight fight. I wanted to kick her ass, to do some damage, to taste blood, to pin her to the mat and molest her until she begged for fucking mercy. Just thinking about it got me all wet and squishy inside my panties. I had been collecting a lot of sexy lingerie lately; that day I was wearing a turquoise g-string that was barely there at all. The material rode up my crack, rubbing and tantalizing me.

John and Butch came back from their interminable golf game at long, long last. The kids were whiny and frazzled. Becky packed them into the car, and we parted ways, them in their car and me and Butch in ours.

On the way back to the city, I gave Butch a handjob while he drove. It was a blast. We hadn’t done anything like that in years. It was fun and it was sexy, and I loved making him all distracted and moan and squirm, teasing and teasing until I couldn’t tease him anymore. Finally I dropped my head into his lap and jerked him off hard and fast into my mouth so he wouldn’t get come all over his trousers, devouring his hot, salty semen as he howled and humped against his seatbelt in stop-and-go traffic on the Jersey Turnpike. It was really hot, and he was very appreciative, but neither was it very satisfying for me.

That night, after Butch had gone to sleep, I got out of bed and got on the internet. I browsed through porn for a while, masturbating idly, looking at naughty pictures and skimming through sex blogs, wishing my life were exciting enough to write about, wishing someone would take naked pictures of me. Then somehow I ended up chatting with some dude over the webcam. He wasn’t really my type at all; he was arrogant and kind of doughy. But I got really excited flirting with him, and we ended up jerking off together. It wasn’t so much that it was sexy to watch some strange dude jack off; what was exciting to me was how much he seemed to need me. I loved how he begged me to remove articles of clothing, how hot and hard he got when I finally took my top off, revealing my breasts. I’ve never thought my boobs were all that and then some to look at; but he nearly came just from seeing them. When I squirmed out of my panties at last, finally showing him my pussy, I was literally dripping wet. The slick come was all over my inner thighs. I wiped the joy juice all over my fingers and held it up to the camera, just to demonstrate. Then we whacked off together, my legs spread wide and my feet propped up on the computer desk so as to give him a porno-camera’s view of what was going on between my legs. He came explosively, shooting an arc of come right at his webcam, and it set me off like a volcano. I rubbed myself until my clit was too sensitive to touch; the seat of my chair was soaked through. He stayed with me the whole way, telling me how hot and sexy I looked, and I ate it up. Finally, we both signed off. It was nearly three in the morning when I crept back to bed. I had never even asked his name.

I was blurry and less-than-functional at work the next day. My boss gave me a sharp look when I came clodhopping in almost ten minutes late. I kept wondering if I had cheated on Butch last night. I hadn’t really, I figured, it was all right. I hadn’t even touched the guy after all, it was just a little naughty fun, playing on the internet. A girl’s got a right to play around a little now and then, right?

I didn’t ask myself if what I was doing with Becky was cheating. It was too painful of a question, the answer was too obvious, and I knew that I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. What we were doing, whatever it was called that we were doing, I was in love with it.

Once I’d asked Butch if he’d ever thought about doing a threesome. ‘Of course,’ he’d said, ‘Isn’t that every guy’s fantasy?’ But then he’d gone on, ‘I don’t think I could ever really do one. I’m too possessive, too jealous, too insecure about that kind of thing. I’m afraid I’d get hurt.’

After work, I went straight to the gym, and beat the living shit out of a 100lb punching bag. Then I ran ten miles on the treadmill. I saw Brianna in passing in the locker room. I smiled at her, what I hoped was a friendly smile, but what I’m afraid may have come across as wolfish. Leaving the gym, I felt miles better.

When I got home, I signed up for a triathlon. Why not, I figured, I was already three-quarters of the way there in the training anyway. Butch told me he felt jealous of my state of fitness. He’s always been somewhat of a couch potato, and he’s definitely been trending toward corpulent the last couple of years. I told him he was welcome to come jogging with me whenever he wanted.

“Do you still love me?” he asked out of the blue.

“God yes, absolutely!” I replied without hesitation.

“Good,” he said, “I love you too.” He paused. “Do you ever think about having kids? Like John and Becky?”

It was a conversation we’d had before, but not a conversation we’d had in a long time. In the past, both our answers had been negative. But not negative enough to warrant a vasectomy.

“I don’t know,” I said, “We should probably decide soon though, if we are going to do it. I’m already a little old to be getting pregnant. What about you?”

“I don’t know either,” he said, “Maybe we should just stop using condoms and see what happens.”

“I like that idea,” I said.

Butch fucked me in the ass that night. He didn’t ask permission, he wasn’t especially gentle, and he wasn’t nice about it. It was awesome.

He started out by eating my pussy, something he does exquisitely well and until recently not nearly often enough. He brought me close to the point of explosion again and again, always backing off just before I came. Then he flipped me over onto my stomach, parted my cheeks, and stuck his tongue up my ass. It was not something he’d ever done before; it was not something I’d ever experienced before. It felt amazing. It felt like his tongue was about six feet long, curling and twisting in my asshole. Every sensation back there was magnified about ten-fold. I realized that I was gurgling with pleasure, humping my ass back against his face like a horny slut in a cheesy porn movie. My fingers made an end-run for my swollen clit, but he grabbed my wrist and restrained me. I was strong enough, by this point, that I probably could have overpowered him, but I didn’t.

Just about the time I was thinking that I couldn’t stand the torture one moment more, that I’d have to beg for it, he finally withdrew his tongue. He snagged a bottle of lube from somewhere, I don’t know, he must have pre-positioned it in the nightstand or something, and poured slippery stuff all over his erection. He spread my cheeks apart, took aim, and jammed his big wet cock straight up my asshole. I howled as the head of his dick muscled past my sphincter. He fucked me hard, almost violently hard, pounding my ass with his cock. I humped back at him as hard as I was able, fingering my clit and screaming obscenities into the pillow.

I don’t think he lasted 30 seconds, but that was ok, because neither did I. We came at the same time, I was aware of his hot semen flooding my anus even as my own orgasm broke over me. I saw stars. I think I blacked out a little. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever had in my life.

We spooned for a while after he had gingerly disengaged, and chuckled at the irony of the fact that our first experience with un-protected sex was highly unlikely to result in a pregnancy.

Becky called me at my office.

“What are you up to?” she asked. Her voice sounded shaky.

“I’m up to my neck in work, and I’m on the boss’s shit-list. Why? What’s up?”

“John got the job,” she said, “We’re moving to Tennessee. The movers will be here tomorrow.”

I made up an important doctor’s appointment that I’d forgotten to mention, and left the office behind, my boss’ frowns and dirty looks and snarky emails be damned.

The house was a shambles. They were already halfway packed. The walls were bare, the floors littered with cardboard boxes, taped shut or gaping open.

We went downstairs into the dimly lit basement, and stripped silently out of our street clothes. I was wearing a thong, as had apparently become my habit, a satiny green one, and a matching bra that I discarded as a matter of course.

Becky pulled off her blouse, and the sports bra underneath, setting her big breasts free.

She pulled down her pants. She was wearing, for once, skimpy little white cotton panties that were revealing enough to tell me that she had a nice, trim bush underneath them.

We stepped into the circle and bowed.

Right away, we exchanged a few kicks and punches, but nothing got through; by now we knew each other too well. I did a forward flip and nearly got away with kicking Becky right in the tits, but she jumped back out of the way at the last minute, spinning around and clocking me with a roundhouse kick that knocked me to the floor and cracked two ribs. (They took forever to knit up, and for weeks, whenever I coughed, sneezed, orgasmed or breathed, I thought of Becky.)

I vaulted back up, hot and pissed. I got a solid punch through to her torso, but she grabbed my arm and tried to flip me. I went with it, using her own momentum against her, and pulled her along with me, yanking her arm hard at the last second, and sending her flying uncontrolled through the air, spinning on three axes. She landed hard, face down, WHUMP, and I pounced on her like a hunting cat.

I took a big handful of her hair and yanked her head back, poised to break her neck. My other arm cranked her hand behind her back, holding back just before I dislocated her shoulder.

“Ok,” she said, “Ok, you win.”

I relaxed my grip on her arm, and she exhaled. I continued to hold her by the hair though.

With my free hand, I yanked her panties down around her thighs. I probed her pussy. It was wet, slick and wet. Her white panties were still in the way, so I tore them off, shredding the waistband, and tossed them aside. I ran my fingers up and down her slit, felt her opening up for me, felt the rigid bump of her clitoris, her slippery juice all over my fingers.

“Please,” she whispered, “Please fuck my pussy!”

I took one wet finger and jammed it straight up her asshole. It was tight, crazy tight and hot.

“No!” she half-screamed, “No!” I yanked hard on her hair, threatening to bust her neck, sever her spinal column, and I wormed my finger deeper and deeper inside. Her anus clenched and spasmed on my invading finger.

“No!” she was almost sobbing, “No, please no, please just fuck my cunt, please!”

I worked two, then three fingers into her tiny, impossibly tight little pink asshole. I fucked her ass as violently as I was able, until my shoulder ached. At last, I released my grip on her hair and her head fell onto the mat. I slapped her ass hard, once, twice, three, four times, leaving livid red handprints on the pale flesh of her cheeks. Three fingers were buried to the knuckles in her wide-stretched asshole. I reached underneath her hips, placing my hand on her sopping wet pussy, finding her distended clit, and I rubbed her hard and fast, in time with the fingers up her butt.

She came, screaming and writhing. It went on so long it was a little scary. She was shaking, and her voice was hoarse by the time it was over. She had made a good sized puddle of wet on the mat.

I licked her juices off my hand. I liked the way she tasted: salty, tangy, female, clean.

We got dressed silently, and I went back to the office, reeking of sex.

Butch and I saw them one more time before they left. There were hugs and handshakes all around. I noticed that Becky had a black eye, discretely masked under her makeup.

“We’ll see you again,” Becky said, “Soon, I hope. Maybe you can come out and visit.”

“Yeah,” Butch said as he shook hands with his brother one last time, “Maybe we could fly out for Thanksgiving.”

I thought of over-cooked, dry turkey, and yams out of a can. I couldn’t wait.

Butch bought me a present, a brand-new vibrator, and it wasn’t even my birthday or our anniversary; and Valentine’s Day was six months off. It was a work of art; sculpted pink silicone, vaguely penis-shaped, with all sorts of interesting bulges and ridges, and a strong motor with various settings, and a plug-in charger.

We downloaded a porno, and Butch watched me break my new toy in, and I watched him watch me. His dick was harder than I think I’d ever seen it. I don’t think he’d ever watched me masturbate before, certainly not with a toy. Neither one of us came; we kept edging closer and closer, then backing off, daring the other to come first. At one point I had to yank the vibrator out of my pussy and fan my clit to keep from getting off.

The porno was actually pretty hot. The girl who starred in it was a pretty, waify young thing, but I liked that she didn’t have huge tits, and there was definitely something twisted and edgy about her. There was a modicum of plot, just enough to string the sex scenes together. It was supposed to be her eighteenth birthday (she looked about 25 to me), and the movie was all about how she celebrated throughout the day. Two of the guys she was with were actually really cute, a rarity in pornos! The movie culminated with a scene where she got fisted by her best friend, a skinny, hard-edged looking girl with pierced nipples a constellation of stars tattooed on her back, and a crooked nose.

“I’d like to try doing that to you sometime,” Butch said. Skinny Girl was buried up to the wrist in Birthday Girl, who appeared to lost in a fog of sexual ecstasy. Butch’s dick was red and swollen, and looked like it was ready to explode. Pre-come was oozing copiously out the tip.

“You should do it!” I told him. My new vibrator was buried to the hilt in my pussy, the vibration turned way down to low to keep me from slipping into a massive orgasm.

We fucked right there on the couch, me on all fours and Butch taking me from behind, no condom, and when he came, he flooded my pussy with his semen, and it set me off like the Fourth of July.

Afterward, we did a little 69, I licked his cock and balls clean, and he slurped my sloppy wet pussy. He couldn’t quite get hard again, but he seemed to enjoy me gently washing him with my tongue, and I got another orgasm out of the deal. We slept hard that night.

I did my triathlon, and shockingly, placed second in my age category. I was filled with lust to do another one, and to win next time.

Butch started jogging with me, two or three times a week. It was frustrating, because he could only go a couple miles, and because I wanted to go faster than he was able, but it was nice, too.

I ran into Brianna in the locker room again. I was getting changed into my gym gear, and she was fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her waist. Her breasts were smallish and beautiful. They reminded me of tangerines. I imagined pulling on the nipples: pulling hard and twisting until she cried out for me to stop. I wondered how old she was. Mid-twenties? Early thirties?

She loitered by my locker, asked if I still had her number. I said that I did. I asked her if she’d ever taken any martial arts.

“I’ve got a green belt in Karate,” she said proudly, “How about you?”

“I’ve studied Kung-Fu,” I said, “But we didn’t really do belts at my dojo. We just fought.” I was picturing her all sweaty and flushed, standing topless in her panties, blood streaming out of her nose and dripping down onto her breasts, red droplets on pale white skin, making little puddles on the mat like rose petals.

“We should spar together sometime.”

Our house doesn’t have a basement, but we do have a nice, private back yard. I wondered where I could pick up some used gymnastics mats, cheap.

“Yeah,” I said, “That would be awesome!”


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A Fox in the Hen House

Margot was fooling around on me again. I was certain of it. I could see it in her eyes, the way she walked. I could smell it on her, almost. She didn’t say anything. Of course she didn’t, she didn’t have to. I knew.

My job may not pay all that great, but it comes with a few fringe benefits, and at least the hours are flexible. I cut out of work early, parked just down the street from the house, and waited. My iPod was set on repeat, dialed into the Violent Femmes Blister in the Sun over and over again. I slapped out the bass line on the steering wheel.

I didn’t have to wait very long.

He was young, almost painfully young. Was he even shaving yet? I started shaving at age fifteen, the year I lost my virginity. Oh, Margot, you’re breaking my heart! Just how young was this one?

He might actually have been eighteen; in truth I’m really lousy at judging that sort of thing. The kid was skinny, with a high forehead, a delicate, aristocratic nose, and fine sandy-blonde hair. He was wearing crisply creased blue jeans and a white button-down shirt that was not tucked in at the waist. There was a folded-up tie hanging out of his back pocket. He walked with a swagger and panache that screamed out loud to the world “I just got some!” He was practically glowing. I figured he’d just been on the receiving end of one of Margot’s legendary extended-play blowjobs.

Margot teaches English, high school English. It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on here. Oh Margot, you naughty, naughty, naughty girl!

I sat on the information for a couple days, let it stew, let it simmer. A week went by.

On Friday I left work early, and swung by the bar. I sat near the window and slowly drank a beer and picked at my chili-cheese fries and watched the pretty girls go by in their short, short skirts, and wished I had a smoke. When I finished my beer, I left the fries to congeal, paid, and drove home.

I left the car parked up the street and walked the last little bit. All was quiet and still. The front door was unlocked. I slipped on inside.

Once in, I could hear the noises coming from the bedroom. I winced as the squeaky spot in the floor creaked treacherously under my boots, but I needn’t have worried. They were oblivious.

He was sitting, stark naked on the side of the bed, facing away from me. Margot was still wearing her little black summer dress with the white polka dots on it, but it was gathered up around her waist, and her large, pale boobs were spilling out the top. She was sprawled out across the bed, and she was working on engulfing his dick with her pretty little mouth, plump lips freshly painted with hotrod-red lipstick.

As I watched, she let his wet dick pop out from between her pretty lips. She attacked his penis with her agile tongue, licking at it as if it was a big fat ice-cream sundae with a sweet red candy cherry on top.

He had a pretty big dick too, for a skinny young kid. I focused on that nearly hairless, neatly circumcised dick, savored the pleasure it must be radiating throughout his nervous system as Margot did her thing. He really was skinny; there was just no meat on him, no fat, no muscle to speak of. It was as if someone had draped a sheer sheet over an anatomy-class skeleton. And then given it a big fat boner. And a plump set of balls. There was a wispy patch of pubic hair just above his bobbing cock, the same color as the hair on his head, but he had no other body hair that I could see. Somehow he reminded me of a bird, some kind of stork or a heron maybe. He was jerking off now, pointing his dick like a loaded gun right at Margot’s big bouncing breasts.

Margot took the opportunity to squirm out of her dress. If she had been wearing a bra, it was already long gone, her nipples pinkly excited in the afternoon air. She was wearing a tiny black pair of panties that disappeared up the crack of her ass, and that I had never seen before. Perhaps she had bought them special, just for the occasion.

Nearly naked now, on her hands and knees on the bed with her boobs hanging pendulously down, Margot went back to devouring her young friend, who made raspy guttural noises as she ate him alive.

I stepped full into the room, clearing my throat with a loud phlegm-ridden cough that seemed to echo off the walls. Margot’s head popped up like a sprung jack-in-the-box, her face the perfect picture of shock and surprise.

I addressed the kid: “You know there’s only two ways out of this house.” It was true; there was the front door and the back door. I suppose if someone were desperate, he could jump out a window, it’s only a one-story ranch, but lets not get technical.

The kid stammered at me, his big wet cock bobbing comically. His mouth moved, but no words came out. I could see the fear in his big, round eyes.

I could see why he might be intimidated. He was naked, I was fully dressed. He was the interloper, I was the aggrieved husband. He was young and skinny, I was old and big.

It’s not that I’m actually a really big guy; I just seem to give off the impression of bigness. I’ve been lifting weights since I was in high school, when I got sick of getting beaten up for being a wimpy white boy; and I have a lot of tattoos. I was wearing black jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I smiled. That didn’t seem to reassure him.

“She sucks dick pretty good, huh?” No answer. “You like having your dick sucked, huh?” No answer. “You like sucking dick then? Huh?” Still no answer. I gave him a shove right between his shoulder blades, and he went sprawling onto the floor. “Maybe you oughta try sucking my dick, boy.”

My cock, which had felt plump and semi-swollen all day long, was by now good and hard, an angry bull cooped up in its pen, just waiting for that cowboy to saddle up. I opened up my zipper and released the beast.

He looked over to Margot, but she had no help to offer. He looked up at me, but I gave nothing away. Hesitantly, unsure of himself, he opened up his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and gingerly licked the underside of my cock. You’d think he was being forced to sample a piss-flavored popsicle.

“Oh no,” I said, “I don’t let just anyone suck my dick. You gotta beg me for permission first.” I slapped him across the cheek with my erection: once, twice, three times, again and again.

“Please sir,” he finally said, his voice trembling, “Please let me suck your cock. I’ll do a good job, I promise. Please let me take it in my mouth.”

“Well,” I said, “Since you ask so nicely, open wide.” I took a big handful of his hair, and crammed his face down on my waiting dick. “Watch those teeth, pretty boy.”

I rather enjoyed fucking his face. Margot seemed to enjoy it too. As her little boyfriend choked and gargled on my cock, struggling to get air down his windpipe, terrified of pissing me off further by catching his teeth on my dick, she lounged back on the bed, sliding her skimpy black panties down her legs and letting her fingers do the walking.

He obviously wasn’t any kind of cock sucker. The kid had no technique. It made me feel like slapping him around just on principal. Still and all, it felt good.  I could have come that way, just grabbed the back of his head and fucked the shit out of his face; but I chose not to.

I pushed him roughly away, and he fell gasping and retching onto the floor, his big dick still incongruously hard.

“Wanna eat some pussy?” Margot’s legs were spread wide apart, and her pussy was pouting open, pink and excited. “You wanna lick some of that purdy, juicy twat?” I took a fistful of his fine, thin hair and dragged him bodily up onto the bed, shoving him in between Margot’s strong, curvaceous thighs.

With my hand firmly gripping the back of his head, I ground his face into Margot’s crotch, not particularly caring whether he could breathe or not. I mashed him into her muff, as if his head was a sponge, and I was trying to mop up a particularly stubborn stain.

It probably wasn’t ideal, as far as cunnilingus technique goes, but Margot seemed pretty into it, lounging happily on the bed and humping back against his face, wiggling her hips and straining to stimulate her clit against him. I finally released him, and he fell down on the bed, coughing and sputtering.

His dick looked harder than ever. It looked like it might have even grown another half-inch or so. It arched rigidly up and out from his wispy, blondish crotch like a pre-stressed steel girder. The head looked like a deliciously ripe, big juicy raspberry. If he got any harder, he might just pop.

“You wanna fuck her, don’t you?” He just looked dumbly up at me, his dick practically glowing cherry red and drooling. “You wanna slide your dick up that hot, juicy, wet pussy, don’t you?” Margot had her legs spread acrobatically wide, and was busy parting her thick and meaty labia with two fingers while idly playing with her clit. “Well, go right ahead… I ain’t stoppin’ you.”

With a nervous look over his shoulder at me, Kid shuffled in between Margot’s wide apart thighs. Holding his oversized penis in both hands, he carefully took aim, and gingerly nudged himself into Margot’s eagerly waiting pussy-hole.

It was just within the bounds of possibility that he was an actual, bona fide virgin.

There was a satisfied-sounding sigh as he entered her. I’m not sure if it came from him, or from her, or both.

“Don’t you DARE come inside her,” I warned as he feverishly started humping her cunt. Margot’s legs wrapped around the small of his back, pulling him deeper inside. He had a cute, pale little ass, that reminded me of a white peach, and his fat fuzzy balls jiggled pleasantly.

They were both making a lot of noise as they fucked. It was pretty hot. I spit on my index finger and slid it between his butt cheeks, pressing up against his tight little anus. He whined, but didn’t stop what he was doing.

I shoved my finger up his ass. It was hot, and impossibly tight. Definitely a virgin, to this, at least. His asshole locked down hard on my finger, clenching like a fist. He froze, and underneath him, Margot wriggled and squirmed, pleasuring herself shamelessly on that big, hard cock of his.

I started finger-fucking his asshole, and he slowly relaxed a little, enough so that my finger could slide in and out. He resumed humping Margot’s pussy. His thrusts moved in time with my invading finger. It was like I was fucking her with a giant, hot-blooded finger puppet. It was actually quite hot, and my own dick was really hard now, obnoxiously hard and horny.

The kid’s breathing changing, becoming faster and more raspy; and his fucking started to change too. He was fucking in and out of Margot at an ever-increasing tempo, humping her like a horny little dog. I knew what was coming.

I slapped his plump balls. Not hard– well, not hard enough to do any damage– but definitely hard enough to get his attention. “DON’T!” I barked, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Don’t stop!” Margot whined from under him, “Don’t let him stop, I’m almost there!”

I kept my finger up his ass and maintained a firm grip on his balls as he fucked Margot to an epic orgasm, the kind that rattles the china and sets off car alarms. Her body thrashed and spasmed under him. Every time I thought he might be close to sliding over the edge himself, I gave his nuts a quick squeeze.

Finally she was done, flushed and sweaty and satisfied. She pushed him away, and I extracted my finger from his bum.

“I bet you wanna come,” I said, “I bet you want it real bad.” I was already rolling the condom down my engorged, aching cock.

We maneuvered him onto all fours on the bed, his dick hanging thickly straight down like a pendulum. He whimpered a little bit, like a frightened puppy. It was cute.

I stuck my tongue up his asshole for a little while, which he didn’t seem to mind one bit. He tasted fresh and sweet and clean, kind of reminded me of apricots. I licked his ball sac all over while Margot fed him her pussy juice from her fingers. She was masturbating all over again.

And then I shoved my cock up his ass. The way he howled as my cock penetrated him made all my arm hair stand up. I wasn’t gentle. I wasn’t in a particularly gentle mood. His sphincter clenched right down on my dick, like a choke collar, impossibly tight.

“Fuck my cock!” I ordered, “Fuck my cock, goddamnit! If you want to come, then fuck my goddamn cock!”

Slowly, gingerly, he started sliding himself back and forth on my dick, in and out. As he moved, Margot reached underneath him and traced her fingertip up and down the length of his erection. If he ever stopped moving, so did she. It was exquisite.

Slowly, inexorably, his body started to unclench, and as he got more and more excited, he moved more and more vigorously back and forth on my dick. I was pretty much in heaven, impaled on this skinny kid whose tight little ass was moving on my cock like a tilt-a-whirl. Margot was full-on jerking him off now, and he was moaning something fierce, humping at her hand and sliding my dick all the way in and almost all the way out his butt hole in the process.

He came with a shout, arching his back and spasming, squirting gobs and gobs of pearly-white come all over the sheets. His orgasm set me off, and I abandoned all restraint, grabbing him by the shoulders and pounding his asshole, fucking him hard and fast, pounding him down into the sticky mess he had made on the sheets. He took the pummeling almost silently, but I could feel his body straining underneath me, his anus clenching and unclenching on me like the hand of a drowning man. I fucked him hard, fast, and deep until I came with a roar, filling up the condom with my own semen. I collapsed on top of him, still lodged in his anus, breathing hard.

I watched Margot finger herself to another quivering orgasm.

Finally I rolled off the kid, extracting my dick and throwing away the spent condom. I tossed him his wadded-up clothing. Perspiration was beaded up and running down his hairless, concave, avian chest. His dick was still half-hard and drooling slightly.

“Get the hell outta here.” I growled, and he slowly walked naked out of the bedroom and out of the house, like a shell-shocked soldier emerging from the trenches, or the lone survivor staggering out of a massive train wreck. The last I saw of him he was out on the front lawn, awkwardly pulling his trousers on.

After he was gone, I flipped Margot over my knee and spanked her big round ass until it was beet red and covered with finger-shaped welts. I spanked her until my hands stung, just for being such a naughty little slut.

Later on, we were sitting on the back porch, drinking chardonnay. Margot was still glowing.

“I think,” she said, sipping her wine, “I think that was the best one we’ve ever done.”

I whole-heartedly agreed.


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