Amanda and I had been fucking each other for three years. We were both professionals for a consulting firm in Indianapolis, and were both driven individuals. Neither of us had time for a relationship.

She was blonde, blue-eyed and forty-something, but with the body of a much younger woman. Her B-cups were pert, with thick nipples and areolae I could suck on all night. She was slender with just a touch of hippiness, which made it divine when I fucked her from behind. She was gorgeous.

The first time we fucked had been on a business trip to Chicago. After spending the day at the client site, we went out for dinner and drinks. Both of us had just enough booze to throw all thoughts of propriety out the window. It started with a friendly kiss, and ended in her hotel room, her on top of me riding my cock like an expert. Since then we have been regular lovers, meeting at a hotel every few weeks.

Unfortunately, a job offer came my way that I couldn’t turn down. I was stoked about the job, but was bummed that I wouldn’t get to fuck Amanda any more. I broke the news to her as soon as I had made my decision. She sighed wistfully, and then smiled.

“Well…we’ll just have to make our last night special then.”

“Totally,” I agreed.

“Meet me at the usual place the night before you leave,” she said, “and prepare for something…new.”

I was rock hard in an instant. I had often wondered how freaky she could be if given the chance. Lord knew I had a few things I wanted to try.

“I will,” I said, whispering seductively in her ear. “You prepare, too. This’ll be a night to remember.”

When the night came, I went to our regular hotel. When Amanda opened the door to the room, every thought I had left as the blood rushed to my cock. She was standing in a black leather bustier, to tight her tits were almost bursting out. She had on black leather opera gloves, thigh-high leather boots, and black silk crotchless panties.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she purred. “I had to play with myself a little. I hope you don’t mind. It’s made me…juicy.”

Indeed she had. I could smell the must from her pussy just standing there.

“Then I won’t make you wait any longer,” I said, and came into the room. I dropped my bags beside the bed and grabbed her by the waist, soul-kissing her as I pulled her close. Her lips and tongue felt electric and tasted almost sweet. I realized that she had applied peppermint oil on her lips like a gloss.

Noticing my reaction, she smiled and pushed me back. “Strip,” she said. “Slowly. Let me see you a piece at a time.”

My cock was throbbing now. All of our previous nights had been quick and dirty. This was slow and sensual. I couldn’t wait to have her, but I wanted this to last all night.

I slowly began unbuttoning my shirt, giving her enticing peeks at my chest and belly. As I opened it, she leaned forward and placed two peppermint electric kisses on my nipples. I sucked in my breath in a hiss. The current shot straight to my cock and I bucked forward unconsciously.

“Nah-ah,” she chided. “Not until I see the rest of you.”

My boots came of next, socks included. She bent down and had me raise each foot so that she could suck on my toes. I’d never been a foot man, but the feel of her soft tongue sliding over each toe, coupled with the electric buzz of her lips made me weak at the knees. I was struggling not to rip the rest of my clothes off.

I slowly lowered my pants, showing her the black silk boxers I had worn just for her. She smiled and kissed the backs of my knees and inside each thigh. Her head came up and her lips gently touched my cock through the fabric. I groaned as she gently blew through the silk onto my cock.

“Now the rest,” she whispered.

My whole body was alive and quivering and I lowered the last stitch of clothing and stood naked before her. My cock was standing straight up, all eight inches throbbing. I was so hard the head was engorged to the size of a shot glass. Amanda took my rod in one gloved hand and gently began stroking me.

“Do you like that?” she purred. “Do you like the way that feels?” “She stroked me, alternating between soft, gentle strokes and rough, faster strokes. I could feel and orgasm building in my belly.

“Do you want me to kiss it?” she asked, a wicked smile on her face. “Do you want my lips on your big throbbing, cock?

“Uh-huh,” was all I could muster.

Her head tilted forward slowly, her hand still stroking me. I could feel her hot breath on my straining flesh. My hips were moving in time with her hands, trying desperately to slide into her mouth for the final release.

“Lie on the bed,” she commanded. I hesitated, but she stood up and gently, but firmly, pushed me down.

As I laid there, my cock standing tall, she covered my body with hers, pressing her tits into my face. She pulled one out and stuck the nipple in my mouth. I sucked it in like a starving man, loving the way its hardness felt on my tongue.

As I sucked her tit, I had the unmistakable sound of Velcro. Before I knew what was happening, my arms were bound at the wrists, spread wide above my head. She moved off of me quickly and pulled two more straps from the bottom of the bed, binding my ankles. She had prepared before my arrival, cleverly hiding the straps beneath the bed. I was now spread eagle, completely helpless to her intentions.

“Now,” she said. “What shall I do with you?” She tapped a finger against her lips for a moment, and then she smiled. “I know!” she said. From the drawer of the bedside table, she pulled a silk scarf. My heart, already beating fast, quickened.

She gently tied the scarf around my eyes, making sure it wasn’t too tight. Then I felt her breath on my ear.

“I’m going to lick you, suck you, and fuck you,” she said. “And I’m not going to let you come until I’m ready for you.”

I moaned as her soft tongue flicked across my earlobe. The next thing I felt was her electric mouth exploring every inch of me. The peppermint oil was still intense and it felt as if she were dragging a live wire on my flesh. She covered every inch of my chest, down my legs, around my hips, and came close to, but not touching, my throbbing cock. I was ready to explode. She gripped the base of my shaft with one hand and squeezed. It was delicious. My urgent need slackened some, but I was still throbbing.

I gasped as, with her fingers still around my cock, she slowly lowered her hot, steaming pussy onto my shaft. My hips bucked, and she tightened her hand again.

“Not yet,” she crooned. “Not till I’m done.” “She slid slowly up and down my rod, moaning and telling me how good my cock felt in her. Every time I got close, she stopped and gripped my shaft until I recovered.

I don’t know how long she rode me, but I began to feel her quiver. Her pussy began to twitch. Her hips became more insistent as they began to rock. With a shout her body tensed, and I felt her pussy spray around my cock, soaking me. She gripped me hard as she came so that I had to ride through it.

She pulled herself off, her hand still on my cock. I was almost whimpering. I needed to come. “Now,” she said, huskily, “for something new.”

I didn’t have time to think. Her hand was still tight around the base of my cock as her warm mouth descended on me. The peppermint oil made the shaft tingle deliciously as her expert tongue wrapped around it.

Her other hand fondled my balls for a minute. Then, with a brief pause, I felt the lubricated leather of her index finger slide into my ass. She moved it around, teasing and then began to stroke my prostate, milking it. I was already bucking and moaning.

With one last stroke, she slid her lips down to the base of my cock, releasing her hand so that she could get all the way down. She bit me with her even teeth and pressed on my prostate one last time. When she let her teeth loose, I felt the orgasm explode in me.

I screamed as load after load of cum shot into Amanda’s pert mouth. I could feel her throat working as she swallowed each drop, her finger still pressing on my prostate. As I emptied myself, my cock oversensitive, she hummed. I writhed against my bonds, unable to move her away as she continued to hum around my sensitive cock.

I screamed. I shouted. I cussed. I came again, my entire body bucking, forcing my cock deeper into her throat. After a moment, she stopped, slowly sliding her lips off of me, I was spent.

“So, babe,” she said, smacking her lips. “What do you want to do next?”

“Let me loose,” I said, panting. “I’ve got a thing or two to show you.”

She unstrapped me and I got off the bed. The place where my crotch had been was soaking wet. Amanda sat in front of me, smiling impishly. I leaned forward and kissed her, tasting both of our cum on her tongue.

“Get on your hands and knees,” I said.

She smiled again and complied. When she was ready, she looked back at me, wriggling her ass. I could see her pussy still gleaming with her juices through the crotchless panties.

“What are you going to do to me?” “This,” I said, and took her pussy into my mouth. She moaned dropping her head down as I lapped her folds. Her pussy was usually sweet, but tonight it was especially good, her spray spicing her flavor. I gave her several minutes of a good licking, and then I pulled back and began working her panties slowly down her ass. As I did, I retrieved a twelve inch dildo out of my bag that was as thick as my wrist.

When her panties were about mid-thigh, I leaned forward and began to tongue her luscious ass. Her satisfied moan turned into a scream of pleasure as I began working that silicon cock into her cunt. As it stretched her, I would slide down and lick her lips, stretched wider and wider by the dildo.

I felt a little resistance about eight inches in and I knew I had reached her cervix. With a little more pressure, the head moved into her womb. Amanda was panting now, a stream of curse words hissing from her mouth. She moved her ass against my tongue and pushed back to take in more of the dildo.

When I finally pressed the silicon balls against her cunt lips, I could feel her quivering. Her ass was slick with my saliva, and her pussy was twitching around the dildo. I began tracing a finger around her clit while I worked, slowly moving the dildo in a small strokes.

Amanda didn’t last long. With a grunt, her pussy sprayed around the dildo, soaking my hand. Her knees almost gave way, but I kept her up.

“God damn,” she moaned. “That was incredible.”

“It’s not over yet,” I said. With a swift movement, I had lined up behind her. Clenching the dildo still embedded in her between my thighs, I slid all eight inches of my cock into her ass. She cried out in surprised pleasure as I pressed both cocks into her.

“Ever been fucked into a coma?” I asked. “Because you’re about to be.”

Then I let myself go. I pounded her ass as hard as I could, thrusting my rod deep into her body, while my thighs slammed the twelve inch dildo in and out of her. One of my hands was holding onto the leather bustier the other had taken a hold of her long, blonde hair and was pulling her onto my cock. She was screaming, crying, shouting, cussing, and growling as I pummeled her.

“Oh fuck! That’s it! Oh, Jesus, fuck me! Oh, fuck me hard! Son-of-a-fucking-whore-skank-bitch-mother-fucker-shit! I’m going to fucking explode!”

I felt her ass tighten around my cock, and she slammed back into me, driving my cock deep into her and the dildo all the way into her belly. I could feel her spray again, but I didn’t stop. She had shown no mercy to me, and I was going to return the favor. I pounded her harder, pulling her so that she arched her back. I could reach around now, and felt her tits as they shook with each thrust. I squeezed her nipples and she cried out again, giving my thighs another soaking. “I want your cum,” she begged. “Shoot it in me! I want it in my ass! Oh, Jesus! Fucking come in me!”

I felt my stomach go tight, her screams pushing me closer.

“You want it?”


“You want my cum?”

“God, yes!”

“Want it up your ass?”

“Fucking give it to me!”

My cock exploded and I pulled her hard onto me, buried in her to the balls. She cried out again when the first hot spurt of jizz blasted deep in her ass. I kept coming, filling her up, by cock twitching and spasming, loads of my semen ejecting out of me.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Amanda was saying. I couldn’t move. We just stayed like that, me pulling her onto my cock by her hair, my hand on her tits, ball deep in her twitching ass and a twelve inch silicon cock buried in her pussy.

Slowly, we moved forward, lying down. She on her belly, me on top with my softening cock still in her ass. The silicon cock slid out of her a bit, but remained in her pussy. I kissed her ear and she moaned.

“Oh my fucking God,” she whispered. “Why did we wait so long to do this?”

“I dunno,” I confessed. “But let’s not waste it.”

We lay for a while longer, and then we got up. I slowly undressed her until she was as naked as I was. Both of us still dripping, we walked onto the balcony. In the open air, we fucked and held each other until the sun rose. Neither of us wanted the night to end.

My plane was leaving at noon, so I couldn’t stay. We showered together, giving each other teasing rub downs, until we were both so turned on we fucked once more, the water soaking our bodies.

We had breakfast together, talking about the night, the good old days, and how we would try to see each other again, although neither of us said it with any conviction. Then I left.

That wonderful night was two years ago. Now I’ve got a steady woman, but she is nothing like Amanda. I keep hoping our paths will cross again, and I sometimes find myself reliving that final night together.

If we do meet again, I still have the dildo. And…some more tools in my kit. Another night trying to top the last would be a perfect venue to test them out.

Summary: A young lesbian soccer coach seduces a rich upper class mother.

NOTE: A special thank you goes to Steve B for his editing suggestions and Estragon for his exhaustive copy editing work.


Layla loved summer: the hot sun, the sandy beaches and the soccer season.

Layla was 21 years old and had just finished her second year of college on a soccer scholarship.

To pad her resume and because she loved soccer, Layla had volunteered to coach one of the girl’s advanced training camps.

Layla was a jock in every sense of the word. She was tall, slim, small breasted, 34b, and had long tanned legs. Her blonde hair was always in a ponytail and her eyes were a hypnotic aqua blue.

She was also a lesbian and had known and accepted her sexuality since she was a teenager. Although she looked sweet and innocent, her looks were incredibly deceiving. If ever the old saying ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’ was true, Layla would be the perfect example. Behind that sweet facade was a domineering seductress. This should not be a surprise. She was an extremely aggressive player on the soccer field; her behaviour in her personal life was no different. She was captain of her varsity soccer team and thus always in charge; not surprisingly, she also had to be in charge of her love life.

In truth, she got most aroused not by being physically pleased, but instead by having her white lovers, her sexual playthings, submit unconditionally to her. The problem she had was that all her submissive playthings were young, inexperienced and dumb. They were no challenge and thus after the initial thrill of having some uppity chick pledge allegiance to her perfect body, little thrill came from having them submit. Oh sure it was fun and diabolical to crush some stuck up sorority bitch and make her beg to lick her ass or seduce and awaken the sexual beast of some shy, reserved southern belle, but the thrill faded fast when they actually submitted and at best were adequate lovers. Then fate intervened….

Clara Walsh had lost her husband two years ago in a car accident and was raising her teenage daughter Maddie by herself. Clara had not even considered another man and her only sexual fulfillment was her six inch dildo, the same one she had pleasured herself with back in college. She had no idea of the technological advances in the erotic toy industry.

Clara received a large sum of money from her husband’s life insurance, and spent her days writing her novel. She also made sure to spend as much time as she could with her 18 year old daughter, who would be going to college in the fall in New York, thousands of miles away from her.

Clara had raven black hair and green-blue eyes, that seemed to change based on her mood. She was short, at 5’2, and had large, only slightly sagging 40d breasts.

Maddie, her shy daughter, had joined the soccer team at the urgent and constant harassing encouragement of her gym teacher who said she had raw untapped potential. Much to Maddie’s astonishment, she loved playing soccer. No one was judging her flat chest, no one knew she used to be fat, had braces and acne and no one knew about her dad’s death. She got a fresh start; a chance to create a new persona….

Mrs. Sammantha Jones was one of the most powerful women in the city. Her husband was CEO of a major bank, and she was the trophy wife. She was head of the PTA of her daughter’s school, head of the parent/grad committee (that just happened) and was chair of her local co-op home association. She spent hours maintaining her perfect body, at all costs. She worked out daily and had very expensive, but impressive, implants. Although in her mid-forties, she looked and dressed much younger. When she and her 18-year-old daughter, Tiffany, were together, most assumed they were siblings. Sammantha dressed as a rich trophy wife should: dresses, heels, stockings, jewellery, all the accoutrements. She always looked perfect and always attempted to be the center of attention.

As usually is the case, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Tiffany had the same red hair; the same sweet seductive green eyes; and the same bright smile and Angelina Jolie lips. Tiffany also had the same ‘I am better than you’ attitude and the same diva complex. Tiffany tried out for soccer for one reason and one reason only: boys. At her high school, soccer was second in popularity to cheerleading. So, of course, Tiffany was captain of her cheerleading squad and goalie of her soccer team. She was incredibly flexible and quick, but, playing goalie she didn’t have to do all that exhausting running. Much even to her surprise, she not only liked it, but was damn good. The goalie was the heart of the team and thus so was Tiffany.

The first week of camp was all work and no play. Actually, the balls didn’t even come out till Wednesday. It was simply a gruelling week of intense physical tests. Layla believed she knew who the real soccer players were based on the first week. True players don’t bitch; they just work their asses off. After day two, Layla had already concluded that the girl with the most potential was Maddie. She worked her ass off and never let down for a second. Such dedication greatly impressed Layla and the naughty side of Layla wondered if Maddie would make a good little sub.

On the contrary, after about twenty minutes of the first day, Layla also knew who the biggest pain in the ass was going to be. Tiffany sauntered onto the field like it was a runway and complained instantly about Layla’s ‘endurance is key to victory’ philosophy. She even went so far as to suggest that she should get different treatment because she was a goalie. If Layla thought Tiffany was bad, her mother was even worse. As she repeated on numerous occasions, she had paid very good money for her daughter to get the best soccer camp and hadn’t paid all this good money to watch her daughter run. Layla played nice to her face, but was already considering her as a great MILF to seduce and control. She was bossy, bitchy and stuck-up, the type who, Layla had learned, desperately needed to be broken. Layla had learned early in her sexual prowls that the more confident and dominant a girl acted in public, the more likely it was that she was sexually weak. Layla looked at the mother-daughter pair and wondered how much fun it would be to Domme them both. Layla smiled deviously as she thought about it.

Week two saw their first game, and Layla surprised many when she didn’t start Tiffany, but the weaker, but harder working, Sally. Tiffany had a meltdown and her mother a similar one in the stands when she realized her precious was not in goal.

Layla, though, just smiled through it all, her decision having a double purpose. First, to make a statement to Tiffany, her mother and the team: hard work pays off and Layla played favourites to no one. Secondly, just to fuck with Tiffany and her mother, and to create the conflict that would trigger Mrs. Jones’ journey to becoming her submissive little MILF slave.

To make matters worse for young Tiffany, Sally played extremely well, making a few big saves in a 2-0 victory.

Maddie was the offensive star with a brilliant individual effort that scored their first goal and set up Carrie for their second goal, late in the match.

If Layla looked forward to crushing the Jones girls, she was also greatly intrigued by the sexy, shy and reserved Mrs. Walsh. Layla couldn’t explain it, but there was something remarkably sexy about her. She dripped sweetness like maple syrup, yet had a raw sexiness that Layla felt certain was just lying dormant, dying to break free. Layla envisioned a much different seduction with this sweet, innocent MILF.

As expected, when the game ended, Mrs. Jones was chomping at the bit to have a discussion with Layla. Layla coolly listened as Mrs. Jones lambasted her in front of other parents and spectators. Layla remained calm until the MILF, or as Layla now called her MIPD (mom I plan to dominate), finished her one sided rant, before politely smiling. “This is not the place for this conversation.”

Mrs. Jones continued her verbal assault until Layla’s smile faded and she said loud enough for all remaining, which was pretty much everyone, “Mrs. Jones, last time I checked I was the coach of this team. So if you don’t like how I run the team and the camp, I am sure Mr. Quincy would be willing to refund your money.”

As Layla expected, Mrs. Jones was not used to having someone talk back to her and was speechless.

Layla, knowing she had won this tiny battle, turned to her young team and congratulated them on playing a great first game. She finished by discussing a new tradition that already existed in football, the game ball. Layla explained that after each game, a game ball would be awarded to a member of the team who best represented true teamwork. Layla, looking directly at Tiffany, handed the ball to Maddie. Maddie looked like she had won the lottery. Tiffany’s cheeks went a flaming red that matched her long hair. Layla, toying with the rich bitch mother, turned around, smiled and winked at her. Daggers were returned. Layla turned her back once again on the pretentious mother-cunt and visited with her players.

Ten minutes later, Layla began to head to her car when she saw Mrs. Walsh in the background, patiently waiting for her daughter. Layla walked over to the shy woman. Layla started the conversation. “Mrs. Walsh, your daughter is one great soccer player.”

“Thank you, Layla,” she replied, beaming like a mother should when her daughter makes her proud, “and please, call me Clara.”

“Ok, Clara,” Layla obeyed, “I assume she gets her hard work and determination from you.”

The beautiful MILF or MIPS (mom I plan to seduce as Layla referred to her in her seduction plan), shyly responded, “I don’t know about that. Her father was the athlete.”

“Oh, too bad he wasn’t here to see her one-girl show today.”

Clara’s whole demeanour changed. She whispered, “He died a couple of years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Layla consoled, now feeling slightly awkward. She leaned in and gave Clara a big friendly hug. “If there is ever anything I can do for you,” Layla began, before giving a slightly suggestive tone, “and I do mean anything….”

Clara smiled back at Layla, oblivious to any innuendo.

Layla backed up, smiling softly. “I do know one thing she got from you.”

“What’s that?” she asked, curious.

“Maddie may not get her athletic ability from her mother, but she definitely gets her beauty from you.” Layla winked, just as she had to Mrs. Jones, but with a completely different subtext.

Mrs. Walsh blushed, and watched the pretty soccer coach walk away. Clara was not gay nor had the thought ever even crossed her mind, until now. She stared at Layla’s tight ass in the soccer shorts until Maddie arrived.

Layla returned to her car and was not slightly surprised to see Mrs. Jones waiting for her, still clearly foaming at the mouth. Layla put on her fake smile. She opened, her tone confident, “Mrs. Jones, I hope this isn’t still about your daughter not starting today.”

Mrs. Jones’ face gave in slightly, not used to not getting her way with her bully tactics. She continued her aggressive approach, “I spend good money for my daughter.”

Layla’s smile faded and she spoke with authority. “Look Sammantha, it is way too fucking hot to sit out here and argue with you. If you want to continue this, get in my car now and we will continue this conversation at my house.”

Before the bitch could respond, Layla began to get in her car. Mrs. Jones, not one to lose, hesitated briefly, but got in the car of the young soccer coach.

Layla smiled, knowing she had the bitch exactly where she wanted her. Once on the road, Layla began the conversation, “Sammantha, it is ninety degrees today, and you are wearing pantyhose. That is fucking crazy.”

Sammantha glared at the foul-mouthed college girl. She hated explaining herself to such a nobody, but she explained anyway, not attempting to hide her condescending tone. “Upper class people like myself dress up at all times.”

“You can dress up and not wear man-pleasing pantyhose.”

The MILF sighed, “Not that it is any of your business, but these are not pantyhose, but rather thigh highs.”

Although Layla knew the answer, she asked anyways, “What are thigh highs?”

Answering with a dramatic sigh, “They are like pantyhose, but only go to your thigh.”

Layla ordered, “Show me.”

The dominant tone of the young girl startled Mrs. Jones, but none-the-less she complied, her attitude still dripping with contempt. She lifted up her dress and revealed the top of her thigh high stocking. “See, this is what fashionable upper class women wear.”

Layla, her tone equally full of disdain, responded, “Really, I thought those were what sluts wore.”

“Excuse me?” the rich MILF asked, aghast at being called such a name.

“Slut, whore, tramp, the terms are interchangeable,” Layla smirked.

They arrived at Layla’s dorm. Sammantha Jones’ voice went shrill, “How dare you speak to me that way?”

“What way, Sammantha, truthful?”

“I have had enough, take me back to my car,” the insulted woman demanded.

Layla laughed while she placed her hand on the MILF’s leg, taking the risk she was sure would pay off. “Look Sammantha, it is obvious you want me to fuck you.”

“What?” the MILF sputtered, shocked by the blunt accusation, yet she didn’t push the pretty blonde’s hand away.

“You heard me,” Layla clarified confidently, before adding another shocking accusation. “Maybe you are a dyke like your daughter.”

Offended, Mrs. Jones defended her daughter, “Tiffany is not gay.”

Layla laughed and slid her hand just slightly, but under the skirt of her next submissive. “Sammantha, there are three things I am very good at. The first is anything to do with soccer. The second is being able to tell when someone is a lesbian or lesbian curious, often before they know, like your daughter.”

“You have no proof she is a lesbian then,” the mother said confidently.

“No, but I can get some, I imagine,” Layla replied, even more confidently.

Attempting to be adamant, yet clearly distracted by Layla’s hand now moving slowly up her leg, “She is not gay. She is dating a college boy.”

“So,” Layla teased, “you are a married woman who is about to come into your daughter’s coaches’ house and submit to her completely.”

“What? I am not,” the pretty MILF defended just as Layla’s hand reached her very damp pussy.

“Why are you so wet, Mrs. Jones?”

The mother stammered, realizing the control was shifting, “I-I-I am not.” Layla shut up the confused woman by shoving her tongue in the MILF’s mouth, while at the same time sliding a finger inside the bitchy woman’s cunt.

Sammantha didn’t break the kiss and rather moaned into the mouth of the soccer coach. She couldn’t explain it, but she was suddenly helpless and completely subdued by the pretty college girl. She let out a sigh when Layla broke the kiss and moaned as she felt a finger pump in and out of her long-neglected pussy.

“I will only ask this once Mrs. Jones. Do you want to come to my room?”

Reacting without thought, the horny confused MILF answered, “Yes.”

Layla stopped finger-fucking the horny bitch and explained, “If you enter my dorm, you need to understand you must obey every instruction I give.”

Suddenly Sammantha was nervous, but horniness and curiosity got the better of her. “I understand.”

Layla quickly finger-fucked the MILF for a few more seconds before pulling her finger out. She sucked the juice off her fingers, “Not bad for an old bitch.” Layla saw the fury in the facial expression of the powerful mother, yet was amused when no words followed. Layla ordered, “Follow me.”

Mrs. Jones sat frozen, stunned by the shocking turn of events. She was infuriated with the treatment she had received from this social nobody, yet an overwhelming large part of her was turned on like she hadn’t been in a long time. So although the dignified reaction was to just walk away from this crazy situation, she instead got out of the car and followed her into the dorm. She kept her head down while she passed a couple of other college girls. She again briefly thought of turning and walking away, yet her body had a mind of its own, and right now it was doing the thinking.

Once in her dorm room, Layla quickly peeled off her clothes and, once naked, ordered to the sexy MILF, “Mrs. Jones, get on your knees.”

Sammantha reluctantly obeyed, oddly mesmerized by the co-ed’s perfectly tanned body.

Layla smiled at the quick obedience of her new slut and explained, “I’m going to have a shower, follow along and wait till I am done.”

Humiliation burned through the powerful woman, but she reluctantly began crawling to the young blonde’s bathroom. While Layla was in the shower, Mrs. Jones replayed the afternoon in her head and no matter how she did, she couldn’t imagine how she ended up in this bizarre predicament or why she didn’t just get up and leave. She wasn’t a lesbian. She had never even considered another woman in a sexual way before today. Yet there was something drawing her, almost against her will, to the pretty, confident co-ed. She couldn’t explain it but she felt the need to obey the blonde goddess and to submit to her. Although she hated admitting it, the dominating attitude of the co-ed had turned her on and the quick fingering had her near orgasm in only a couple of minutes. As soon as she saw her daughter’s coach naked, she desperately wanted to touch the girl’s small firm breasts and to smell the scent of her shaved pussy. Sammantha shook her head, desperate to get these naughty ridiculous thoughts out of her head. She was brought back to reality when she heard her name.

“Earth to Sammantha. What are you thinking about?” a dripping wet and naked Layla asked.

Sammantha looked up from her knees and was awestruck with the young girl’s body. Sammantha worked out for hours every day and her body couldn’t even begin to compare with the co-ed’s. Looking into her eyes and realizing she was to speak, she answered honestly, “I was trying to figure out why I was here.”

Layla chuckled, “Well, that is obvious. You want to be my slut.”

“I do not,” the MILF responded, insulted at the verbal degradation.

“You don’t?” Layla asked. “You are in my dorm room, on your knees waiting for me to get out of the shower, so I think that qualifies as you being a slut.”

The rich upper class woman stammered, “I- I-I….”

“Is slut too extreme? Would you prefer dyke?”

Sammantha gasped, “I am not gay!”

“If you say so, slut. This game is getting old. You want to please me. Say it!” Layla demanded.

The dazed and humiliated MILF was not used to being bossed around. She wanted to defend herself and put this young nobody in her place, yet the words out of her mouth expressed the opposite. “Yes, I want to please you.”

“And you are a dirty rich slut who needs to be disciplined by me,” Layla continued the verbal onslaught.

Mrs. Jones wondered when the humiliation would end as she reluctantly agreed. “Yes I am a slut who desperately needs to be disciplined.”

“So you agree you need a Mistress?” Layla asked.

The word shocked her. She stammered a reply, “Um, I don’t know.”

Layla ordered, her voice flaming hot with anger, “Get up and leave, Mrs. Jones, I don’t have time for this insubordination.”

Mrs. Jones was startled as Layla walked out of the bathroom. She got off her numb knees and followed the co-ed she had just offended. The words that came out of her mouth shocked her. “I am so sorry, Layla, I don’t know what to say.”

Now half dressed, Layla dismissed the confused older woman, “Just leave. I will have one of my loyal obedient sluts take you home.”

Mrs. Jones stood dumbfounded while Layla made a call on her cell.

“Slut, get your ass over here now,” Layla ordered and just as quickly put her phone down. She looked at the MILF she was playing like a fiddle and asked, “What are you still doing here? If it is about your daughter, tell her if she wants to start, she better start working as hard as everyone else. One of my good obedient lesbian sluts will drive you home. Go wait at the front entrance. Now get the fuck out of my dorm room.”

A stunned and speechless Mrs. Jones walked out of the dorm.

Like an obedient child, she waited to be picked up by some stranger.

Meanwhile, Layla yelled, “Come in, Melody.”

A short, brunette entered the room and immediately fell to her knees, as she had been instructed to do anytime she was in the private presence of her Mistress.

Layla smiled and handing her car keys to her sub, she ordered, “Downstairs there will be a pretty older blonde. Please drive her home. If she talks to you, feel free to explain our relationship.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the pretty slave obeyed, taking the keys and leaving the room.

Layla smiled while devilishly pondering the afternoon’s events. If she was right, and she usually was, Mrs. Jones would come to her tomorrow. Oh, how she loved the thrill of the chase!

Melody went downstairs quickly and walked up to the older woman, saying, “Follow me, ma’am.”

Mrs. Jones, now desperate to get away, quickly followed, and soon they were back on the road. Mrs. Jones gave Melody the address of the soccer field where she left her SUV, as if Melody were her personal driver, and turned her eyes to the road.

Melody, the sweetheart she was, attempted to start a conversation with the rattled stranger. “How do you know Layla?”

Sammantha glared at the unknown co-ed and responded tersely, “None of your business.”

Melody ignored the ignorant tone and said giddily, “Oh, you are one of her subs too?”

“God, no,” the snotty MILF bitch responded, “I am not some dumb lesbian bimbo.”

Melody was offended by the woman’s demeaning words and drove in silence the rest of the way. Once at the soccer field, Melody taunted the woman, “You know ma’am, if Layla decides she wants you, you will be hers.”

“That is absurd,” Mrs. Jones responded.

Melody’s smile returned, her tone dripping condescending sweetness, “If you say so, ma’ am.”

Mrs. Jones could tell the girl’s smug smile was condescending, and quickly got out of the car and slammed the door. The car drove off and a still very rattled Mrs. Jones got into her SUV. When she returned home, Tiffany asked where she had been. The still rattled mother lied to her daughter, explaining she had gone for a massage.

Tiffany asked, “What are we going to do about Coach?”

Mrs. Jones shocked her daughter and herself, “Tiffany, stop being a spoiled brat and start working hard like every other girl on the field.”

“Mother,” Tiffany began.

“No, enough Tiffany. You are eighteen years old and it is time for you to fight your own battles for yourself. Do you understand?”

Tiffany, almost in tears, never having been yelled at by her mother, nodded her head in understanding.

“Good,” Mrs. Jones responded, calming down, “you are the better goalie Tiffany, but Layla expects you to work as hard as everyone else does.” Exhausted, Mrs. Jones hugged her daughter, something else she rarely, if ever, did and went to have a much needed shower.

That night, Sammantha tossed and turned, replaying the absurd events of the day in her head over and over. Why had she obeyed the harsh instructions of the young girl? Why did her pussy get so wet while in the presence of the young co-ed? Why didn’t she stand up for herself? Lastly, why was she so fucking horny? She masturbated herself to sleep, the thought of submitting to her daughter’s soccer coach replaying over and over in her head.


Next day at practice, Layla was happy to see a very different Tiffany. She didn’t complain and worked her ass off. Layla rewarded her with praise, “That’s much better, Tiffany.”

Layla also noticed that Mrs. Jones was greatly distracted throughout the practice, which made Layla smile.

When practice was done, Layla told the girls to have a good weekend, relaxing before Suicide Week: three games and three practices in six days.

The girls groaned and headed their separate ways. Layla asked Maddie, “What you doing this lovely weekend?”

Maddie, usually shy, couldn’t hide her excitement. “Two friends and I are going to the lake for a girl’s only weekend.”

“Very cool. Well, have fun,” Layla replied while thinking to herself that means her mother will be home alone. A variety of ideas floated in Layla’s head until she was distracted by the voice of Sammantha Jones.

“Layla, may I speak with you?”

Layla couldn’t believe the polite tone the overbearing mother used. Layla turned around and smiled, “What can I do for you, Mrs. Jones?”

There were only a few people still left, but Mrs. Jones spoke in a whisper, “I would like to discuss yesterday.”

“I see,” Layla responded thoughtfully.

“In private,” the MILF added, nervously.

Layla said, “My dorm is off limits today, there is some big reunion thing there.”

Mrs. Jones offered quickly, “We can go to my house.”

“I am not sure you understand what I expect from you,” Layla told her.

Mrs. Jones responded, shyly, “Yes, I do.”

“You do?” Layla asked, before leaning into the Mom’s ear, “I expect a hundred percent obedience. I expect you to be my personal slut.”

Her hot breath teased the older woman’s ear and a soft bite of the earlobe allowed an eager whimper to escape.

“Yes, I understand.”

Her tongue in the once bitchy woman’s ear, Layla added, “If I come to your house, I own you. Your mind and body are mine to do with as I please.”

The humiliated mother nodded her head in understanding.

Layla continued, “In public you will now call me Miss Layla and in private Mistress Layla. Is that understood, slut?”

Layla thought ‘slut may be pushing it’, but the defeated mother replied, “Yes, I understand Miss Layla.”

Layla smiled at the complete submission of this once high and mighty bitch. “What about Tiffany?”

“She is already on her way to San Diego with her boyfriend.”

Layla chuckled, “Soon she will accept that she is a dyke, just like her mommy.”

The new MILF sub went even redder, but didn’t say anything.

Layla asked, “And what about Mr. Jones?”

This time it was the MILF’s turn to laugh bitterly, although Layla noticed a tinge of hurt in it. “He is in France till the end of the month.”

“So we have the whole house to ourselves all weekend?” the dominant coach queried.

“Yes, Miss Layla, except for the maid,” the soccer mommy confirmed.

“Hmmmm,” Layla mumbled deep in thought. “All right, I need to go home and pick up a few things for your training.”

Mrs. Jones’ face flinched just a tad at the word ‘training’ and waited further instruction, like a good sub should.

Layla got Mrs. Jones’ address and whispered one last time in her ear, “By the end of the weekend, you will be a very different woman.” She bit the older woman’s ear hard and turned and walked away.

Mrs. Jones stood paralyzed until after her new Mistress had disappeared completely. As she slowly made her way to her SUV, she wondered what she had just got herself into. While her brain contemplated the long term consequences, her pussy juice began to leak through her thin thong.


Layla arrived a couple of hours later at the mommy-bitch-turned-obedient sub’s house with a duffle bag of toys and other essentials. She knocked on the door and was greeted by a black maid.

Layla asked, “What is your name?”

The older black woman, probably on her 40′s, responded, “Tamara, ma’am.”

Layla entered the mansion and was briefly awe-struck by the massive estate. She asked, “Does Mrs. Jones treat you well?”

Her facial expression betrayed her words, “Yes, she is a good boss to work for.”

Layla didn’t push it yet and asked politely, “Tamara, could you please tell Mrs. Jones that Layla has arrived?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the chubby black maid responded politely.

Layla surveyed the room while she waited. After a couple of minutes of waiting, Mrs. Jones arrived. “Welcome, Miss Layla.”

Layla smiled, “I think your personal residence counts as alone.”

Mrs. Jones looked at Tamara, “You are dismissed, Tamara.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Tamara replied gratefully.

Layla waited patiently, allowing her new sub this last minute of public propriety. Once Tamara had left the room, Mrs. Jones looked nervously to the confident co-ed, “Welcome Mistress Layla.”

“This is a very impressive home, slut.”

“Thank you, Mistress Layla.”

Having had enough of the pleasantries, Layla ordered, “Take off your dress, my mommy slut.”

A small wince escaped the proud woman, but she obeyed the young woman’s order.

Layla walked over to the MILF or MIPT (Mommy I Plan to Train) and inspected her body. “For an older bitch, you have kept in amazing shape.”

“Thank you, Mistress Layla,” the half naked mother of one shivered.

“Let’s see those tits, mommy dyke,” the soccer coach ordered.

Shaking slightly, the rich mother unbuckled her bra and released her large firm breasts. She now stood in front of this pretty soccer coach in only her nude stockings, thong panties and four inch heels.

Layla pinched the woman’s nipples. “Why aren’t they hard, slut?”

Sammantha whimpered and answered clearly embarrassed, “They never get erect.”

“Really?” Layla asked, pinching harder. “Never?”

The MILF winched from the sharp pain. “Not since I had the implants, Mistress Layla.”

Layla moved around behind the older woman and stunned the woman with a sharp hard slap on her naked ass, the thong not covering any of the woman’s still impressive rear. “Fuck mommy-cunt, how many hours a day do you work out to keep this body in shape?”

“Three, give or take, Mistress Layla,” the humiliated redhead responded, tears now rolling down her face.

“Does your husband fuck you in the ass?”

“Yes, on occasion, Mistress Layla.”

“Do you like a nice hard cock in your ass?”

“Only when I am drunk, Mistress Layla.”

“Take off your thong, mommy whore,” Layla instructed.

Sammantha took off the thin piece of fabric, now standing in only her thigh highs and heels.

Layla inspected her new sub’s pussy. The cunt was completely hairless and her lips had a sweet shine to them. “Your pussy seems wet, mommy tramp. Why is that?”

“I don’t know, Mistress Layla,” Sammantha replied.

“Really? You have no clue?” Layla questioned.

“I can’t explain it, Mistress Layla, I wish I could.”

“You are so adorable in your complete upper class dignity,” Layla mockingly accused. “Take off my shoes for me, slut.” Layla lifted her right foot up and allowed the rich woman to be the maid for once. The woman’s hand shook slightly. Once the shoe was off, Layla lifted her left foot and the MILF repeated the order. The humiliation continued as Layla insisted she also remove her sweaty socks. The MILF complied. Layla, smiling deviously, commanded, “Clean my feet with your mouth.”

Sammantha Jones, one of the most powerful women in the city, looked up at the college co-ed with a look of disgust. Layla could see the woman on her knees contemplating this order. Layla’s smile did not falter, and soon Sammantha broke eye contact and took Layla’s toe in her mouth.

Mrs. Jones tasted the salty sweat of the girl’s foot that had presumably been in running shoes all day. The scent was disgusting and the taste awful, but she obeyed the nasty and humiliating task. Used to being in control, she knew exactly what the co-ed was doing to her. She was making it very clear who was in charge and seeing just how far the MILF would fall. Once done with the first foot, Mrs. Jones heard the cocky voice of the co-ed, “What about the soles of my feet, slut?” Anger bubbled inside the rich upper class woman, yet she obeyed the utterly humiliating task.

After both feet had been adequately cleaned to the liking of the young Mistress, she ordered, “Let’s go to your bedroom. I want to fuck my new whore in her own bed.”

The new submissive slave began to get off her already sore knees.

“Not so fast, slut. Lead the way. But do so on all fours.”

The MILF dropped back to her knees, her face as red as a burning fire. She began the lengthy crawl to her bedroom.

Layla grabbed her duffle bag of goodies and followed her new sub. Her grin seemed permanently burned to her face. She had dominated many women over the years, most with ease, but this one was already becoming her favourite because of her uppity I-am-better-than-you attitude.

Sammantha was mortified at her treatment by the pretty co-ed and even more mortified by the fact that she not only allowed it to happen, but couldn’t resist. Her knees were killing her and crawling like a dog in her own home was humiliating. Once she reached her room, she stopped. She didn’t know why, but she did. She soon heard the voice of her Mistress complimenting her, “Good slut, you are a fast learner.”

Layla walked to the king-sized bed and undressed. Soon she was completely naked. On all fours, Sammantha was in awe of the perfect body of her Mistress. Although the soccer coaches’ breasts were small, they worked with the rest of her perfect body. Layla asked, “Have you ever eaten pussy before?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Yet, you so eagerly submitted to me. Curious,” the blonde beauty pondered.

The older redhead pondered it as well. It made no sense. Yet, there she was on all fours, in her own house, eager to do just that. Eat her first pussy.

“Crawl to me.”

The MILF did as she was told, her pussy leaking slightly. Once she reached Layla, she looked directly up and was inches away from the girl’s pussy. The girl’s scent already lingered in the air. Layla asked, “Do you want to eat mine?”



“I don’t know.”

“You are going to have to do better than that. My pussy is a delicacy and needs to be treated as such. A rich bitch like you probably pays a good deal of money for a special delicacy. So I will ask again, cunt. Why do you want to eat my delicacy?”

The frustrated, confused and horny mom really had no idea, but she just said what she was feeling. “I can’t explain it. I have never found another woman attractive, usually only a threat. I have never liked being told what to do, but I can’t resist anything you say. There is something about you that I am drawn to. All I want to do is please you.”

Layla smiled, opened her legs a bit, and said, “Please away.”

The inexperienced MILF moved closer and extended her tongue. Other than tasting her own juices off her fingers, or more times than not off her husband’s cock, she had never tasted another pussy. Much to her surprise, her Mistress’ pussy had a very pleasant taste: sweet and tangy. The more she lapped at the appetizing juice, the more she wanted it. She wanted to bury her face deep into the young girl’s delicious pussy, but could not from the awkward position of her kneeling and the co-ed standing.

Layla, on the other hand, purposely chose this awkward and power position. It was incredibly hard to come this way and watching a rookie pussy eater attempt to please in such a position was always entertaining. Layla allowed the new MILF slut to lick her pussy for ten minutes in complete silence other than the odd moan, before she asked, “So, do you like being my little lesbian slut?”

The mother couldn’t believe her response, “Yes, Mistress, I love being your lesbian slut.”

Layla moved onto the older woman’s bed and spread her legs. “Get your ass up here and finish what you started.”

The MILF slut obeyed and quickly her head was buried between the lovely soccer coach’s legs. Now in a much more comfortable position, Sammantha could get much deeper with her tongue. She opened up her Mistress’s pussy lips with her tongue, trying to get deep into her cunt. The juices continued to flow slowly out of the young girl’s pussy and Sammantha, determined to get the young co-ed off, slid a finger inside the girl’s pussy.

Layla screamed the instant her pussy was penetrated, “Oh yes, my slut, finger fuck your Mistress. Make me come.”

Mrs. Jones frantically pumped the girl’s pussy with her finger while at the same time licking the young girl’s clit. She really had no idea what she was doing, but decided to focus on the clit, because that was what worked when her husband was going down on her. It seemed to be working, as the co-ed’s moans began to get louder and more constant.

“Yes, keep fucking me, slut. You will make a good addition to my little harem of whores. Fuck, fuck, finger-fuck me deeper, deeper, yessssssss.”

Sammantha felt the girl’s legs tense up and seconds later felt the gush of cum she had eagerly been craving ever since she first tasted the beautiful pussy. She eagerly lapped and lapped, attempting to get as much of the girl’s cum as she could. She didn’t stop until instructed.

“Stop slut,” Layla ordered, “I need a few seconds to recover.”

Sammantha laid subserviently, between her Mistress’s legs, waiting for further instructions, her face dripping with cum. Seconds ticked into minutes before the young Mistress spoke. “Get on the bed on your back, slut.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the MILF obeyed, hoping to get some much needed satisfaction. The co-ed went back to her bag again and quickly returned with it.

Layla grabbed the MILF’s arms and like a veteran cop had her new slave handcuffed to the bed in less than ten seconds. The look of fear in the MILF’s eyes was priceless for Layla. Layla reached in her bag of tricks and pulled out a small green vibrator. She turned it on low and slipped it inside the MILF’s already very damp cunt. The new slut let out a loud moan. Layla smiled while she continued the light bondage by tying her new slut’s legs together, pushing the toy completely inside the horny mommy. Once done, Layla leaned in and kissed her pretty redhead slut. The slut kissed back, already writhing from the toy doing her thing inside her. Layla broke the kiss and announced, “I’ll be back in an hour or two. Don’t you be going anywhere.”

The bound MILF begged, “Please don’t leave me like this. Where are you going?”

“Out,” Layla shrugged and left the slut bound and with a toy lodged inside her.

The MILF called out for Layla, but eventually quit. The buzzing down below was really getting her horny, a constant buzz, yet not enough to get her off. Resigned to her fate, she tried to move around so she could make herself come. Unfortunately, no matter how she moved, she couldn’t get to the next level. Frustration built inside her.

Meanwhile, Layla had not actually left but was in Tiffany’s room snooping. Layla searched for a diary, but there was none to find. She went onto the young girl’s computer and chuckled when it had no password protection. The first thing she did was search the sites she had recently been on. She was a Yahoo junkie it seemed. She also recently visited a site on soccer goaltending. Going back a few days Layla found what she was looking for. One site she was regularly on was called Literotica. As Layla continued scavenging through the different stories the young redhead goalie had recently read, she smiled. As expected, the majority of the vast majority of the stories were lesbian stories: Bedding the Babysitter, Training Teacher, Soccer Moms, and Presidential Powers. She seemed to like submissive characters and Layla smiled knowing that she would be an easy prey if she wanted…and she wanted. Layla went downstairs and got herself a glass of wine. She flipped on the TV and turned to a soccer match between the Americans and Germans. It was still scoreless with ten minutes left. Layla watched the end of the match that ended in a draw. She hated that. In her mind, there would be no shootouts, just straight overtime until someone scored. It might take hours, but that is what happens in hockey and she sure couldn’t see why a soccer game couldn’t be the same. Endurance and fitness were the two keys to success and soccer and it ticked her off when fate would decide the outcome after a lengthy game. She shut off the TV, went to the fridge and grabbed an impressively thick and long cucumber, some whipped cream, and a bottle of wine. She grabbed a couple of wine glasses and made her way back to her bound submissive mommy.

Amy Hutchens slept for about two hours on a blanket by a stream and underneath a tree for shade, naked as the day she was born, before waking up groggy, thirsty and famished. Blinking up at the afternoon sun, the eighteen year old realized she had to get back onto the road and resume her journey, for better or for worse.

She felt pretty good, despite the fact that she had pretty rough sex with three men earlier in the day. But Amy was young and resilient, and she put those bad events behind her, instead choosing to focus on the future. Rummaging through her backpack, she took out her water bottle and a granola bar. After a few more minutes of eating and drinking, Amy got up, stretched a bit, and was back at the stream to wash her face. Her hair was mostly dry, but she thought she must look dreadful.

The next twenty minutes were spent fixing up her hair and makeup, and then putting on some clothes. Amy put on the plainest bra and panties she could find, which – since she had brought along her hottest outfits – were still fairly sexy; they were a matching black, low-cut lace bra, and a lace g-string that was also silky and nearly see-through. Next the girl selected a pink baby-t that was cut high so that her flat tummy was visible, and her least scandalous mini-skirt that was a simple jean skirt that wasn’t too short. Lastly, Amy chose a pair of brown cowboy boots on, putting away her white high heels in her small luggage.

With this all done, Amy gathered up her belongings and walked back out towards the road. It took her less than five minutes to do so, and after reaching her destination she looked around to get her bearings. Finally figuring out where she was, Amy sighed, knowing that she hadn’t made much progress. She was about thirty or thirty-five miles away from her home, and although she might be in the next county, she wasn’t close to Belmeade at all.

So the blonde stuck out her thumb for a ride for the third time of the day. And because Amy was incredibly gorgeous – pretty and young with big tits, a tight teenage ass, and long slender legs all on a slim, petite frame – it only took one car to drive by and stop for her. However, because there wasn’t too much traffic, Amy still had to wait a good twenty minutes for it come along.

The car itself was an old yellow Camaro that had seen better days, but seemed serviceable enough. The teen went up to the car and peered inside; it was jammed with five guys and looked pretty tight inside, two in the front and three in the back. They all looked to be college age, perhaps a few years older than Amy herself. Three had sandy hair, one had dark brown hair, and the last one had black hair, and they were all fairly athletic looking, wearing t-shirts, tank tops, shorts and jeans. Again, they seemed like fairly generic college kids.

Amy was a bit hesitant about the situation. “Ah – hi guys! Where are you guys headed?”

The guy sitting in the passenger seat replied back. “Hey there, beautiful! We’re going to Belmeade to visit some friends. You need a lift?”

“I am heading to Belmeade -” said Amy hesitantly. After what happened earlier, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get into a car full of men. “- but it doesn’t look like you guys have the room…”

“Nonsense! My name’s Josh – and the driver here is Tony. In the back are Tyler, Norm and Brian. You can just sit in the back with them – we can fit you in!”

“Well – I’m not sure …”

Josh smiled. “Look – it won’t be a problem since you’re tiny anyways. And it wouldn’t feel right – leaving a young lady like you out on the road by your lonesome!”

Amy was taken back and was in fact a bit charmed by Josh – she felt she could trust him and take him at his word. She was thinking hard and couldn’t make up her mind whether to enter the vehicle or wait for another one.

Seeing her indecision, Josh smiled. “It’s up to you … if you want to want for the next car, that’s fine with us. But we’re heading straight to Belmeade and will be there in less than two hours!”

Biting her bottom lip cutely, Amy decided to go with Josh and his friends. She returned Josh’s smile and said, “OK – if you think I can fit, I’ll ride with you guys!”

The drive, Tony, popped open the trunk, and Josh stepped out of the car.

“Here,” he said, “I’ll put your stuff in the trunk. You get into the backseat!”

So Amy climbed into the back with the three young men. It was a two door so she had to clamber into the vehicle from the passenger door, trying hard to ensure her mini-skirt didn’t show too much skin to the men in the vehicle. There really wasn’t much space so after some awkward introductions, she then settled onto the lap of the man in the middle whose name was Norm. To her left was Tyler and to her right sat Brian. The teen felt rather uncomfortable sitting on Norm’s lap, surrounded by strangers, but tried to hide the fact by trying to keep a conversation going. But only Tony and Josh were talkative, it seemed. All the guys in the backseat were silent, and Amy was getting a bit uneasy because she felt all three of their eyes burning into her.

After a good twenty minutes or so like this, Brian finally spoke up. “Nice ass from what I could see – how does it feel, Norm?”

Norm smiled with his hands on Amy’s hips. He squeezed her and said, “Feels fucking nice! Her ass feels juicy and tight!”

Squirming in his lap, Amy said, “Stop that!”

Brian laughed. “Lucky bastard!”

Then it was Tyler’s turn to speak up. “Look at those legs! Fucking sexy – so smooth and silky! I wonder if her pussy is as smooth?”

Now everyone laughed in the car, except for Amy of course.

“I bet you this chick’s pussy is bare and smooth as a baby’s behind!” Brian replied.

Amy was fuming but her cheeks were flushed red at the same time. “Would you guys quit it? I’m right here!!”

“Quit what?” Norm replied, smirking. He squeezed her again, and then moved his hands up a bit to curl around the girl’s slim waist. “We’re just trying to be friendly!”

“Well – cut it out!” The blonde looked at Josh imploringly, as if asking for help.

Josh grinned cockily and shrugged his shoulders. “What can I do? Boys will be boys!”

The three guys in the back chortled at that comment, which made Amy feel more and more nervous. Events seemed to be spiralling out of control for her again.

Meanwhile, Tyler was staring intently at Amy’s large breasts. “Dude – look at those tits! They’re massive for such a small babe like this! Think they’re real?”

“Only one way to find out!” said Norm, quickly cupped the teen’s tits and squeezed, causing the young blonde to squeal out in surprise.

“OOOHHHHH!! N-now – stop that right now!” Amy’s eyes were wide as saucers, startled at the abruptness of Norm’s actions. She gasped as he kneaded and tweaked her tits, as much from what he was doing, but also from the sudden awareness of the growing erection she felt from his pants underneath her. She tried to pull away Norm’s hands but was unsucessful. “Oh God!”

“Holy shit – these are motherfucking real, boys! This chick’s rack is fucking fantastic!” Norm raucously enthused, drawing more laughter from his friends. “You guys have to feel these suckers out!”

Now Brian and Tyler joined in the fun with Norm, each cupping one of Amy’s breasts and playing with them lewdly. They whistled and relished the feel of the stunning teenager’s bountiful bosom.

“G-guys! Stop that this instant! I mean it – stop the car NOW and let me out!!” Amy cried.

All five guys ignored the girl, while Norm suddenly grabbed Amy’s baby-t and pulled it off her in one even motion. Amy shrieked at that, but the guys were all at once quiet, awed by the blonde’s beauty. The teen quickly used her hands to cover her chest.

Tony was the first to speak out, even though he was driving and could only glance back once in awhile. “Christ!! This chick is fucking HOT!!”

Amy glared at him in anger, but then her attention was diverted back to her tits again. Norm was now fumbling with her bra as the two men beside her looked on intently.

“No – no – stop it!” Amy yelped. “Guys … PLEASE!!”

But there was no stopping her molester, who unclasped her bra and let Amy’s magnificent boobs spill out. Then by grasping onto the limbs of the girl, Norm quickly disentangled it and gave the bra to Tyler. Again, the men stared at her tits as Amy covered herself with her hands. She looked so hot then, sitting on Norm’s lap with her skirt hiked up her thighs and her small hands cupping her massive tits, so enormous on her small frame.

Tyler threw Amy’s bra out the open window. “Shit – it’s a shame to cover up those tits with a bra! You don’t know need this!”

The teen’s jaw dropped in shock. “What the – that was an expensive bra!”

“C’mon, show us your titties!” said Brian lustily.

Holding onto her breasts, Amy nodded her head. “NO!!”

Then the girl shrieked loudly as Norm slipped his fingers underneath her skirt. “If you don’t want to show us your titties, then maybe we can take a peek inside this little short dress of yours!” He hooked his thumbs on Amy’s panties and began to yank them down.

Instinctively reaching to hold onto her panties, she grasped them as Norm had them halfway down her thighs. She struggled to pull them back up even as Norm tugged them down, her tiny panties stretched nearly to their limits. With her breasts now wobbly and beautifully free, Brian and Tyler were able to touch and tweak them, giving the girl more troubles. But Amy was too busy with trying to keep a hold of her panties, until they finally gave and snapped apart, useless to her now.

“SHIT!” Amy cried out, grasping at Norm’s hands as he reached back up underneath her skirt. Now she had three pairs of hands molesting her, three strangers feeling her up, her nipples getting pinched and her pussy getting stroked, and there was nothing she could do. “STOP THAT!!”

Amy’s three attackers kept themselves delightfully busy, fondling the teenager and enjoying the feel of her soft young flesh. Her strawberry coloured nipples – hard and erect – were plucked, pinched and played with harshly, while her sensitive cunt was rubbed and stroked just as ruthlessly, much to her chagrin. Soon her honey pot was beginning to flow with her hot juices, stirred up and sticky, even as she fought against her body’s reactions.

“OH GOD – please stop!” Amy pleaded. “I – c-can’t take it! My pussy can’t take it anymore! It’s TOO much!!”

“Too much!?” Josh asked. “What do you mean?”

The blonde flushed in embarrassment. “My pussy can’t take any more cock now … it’s already been … fucked this morning!!”

Josh was taken aback, flabbergasted. “How many cocks did you fuck today already!?”

Her cheeks aflame, Amy replied, “T-three! But it wasn’t me fucking them … they fucked me!”

“Shit, this slut loves cock!” Josh said enthusiastically. “She’s practically begging to be fucked now!”

The teen’s blue eyes opened wide in disbelief at that statement, and said in a flustered voice. “I didn’t mean that!”

All the guys in the car sniggered Josh’s words. The two men beside her pulled off Amy’s skirt in short order, as she struggled vainly against them, while Norm pulled out the hard erection from his jeans. The situation was now well out of control.

“OH GOD – OH GOD – DON’T FUCK MY PUSSY!!” Amy cried out, squirming about cutely on Norm’s lap. His seven-inch cock was right against her ass and felt sizzling hot pressed against her nubile flesh, another nasty tool to debase her with. The girl desperately wanted to not have another penis up her pussy, so recently pounded and abused in the morning.

Norm laughed at that. “Fuck – this bitch is saying she wants it up the ass! What a fucking slut!!” With the help of his friend’s beside him to hold down the girl, Norm inserted his cock-head at the entrance of Amy’s tiny little rosebud asshole.

“FUCK!!” Amy yelled out in response. “OH GOD – THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!”

Regardless of what she meant, Norm’s dick popped through Amy’s tight sphincter, as the three men guided the struggling girl – still thrashing about fiercely – onto his thick cock. Amy contorted her slender body: boobs bobbing deliciously up and around, hips wriggling, and back arched backwards, then forward. But whichever way she moved, it was of no use as she was forcibly directed onto the erection, sinking down inch by inch even as she instinctively flexed her muscles against the anal invasion. This made the cock feel incredibly massive and unyielding within her, making her asshole feel raw and tender as it thoroughly violated her tight, sensitive rectum.

“OH MY GOD!! Oh fuck – fuck – fuck – fuck – fuck – fuck …” Amy whimpered to herself, shamefully aware that she no longer possessed a virgin asshole.

Thankfully the inside of the Camaro was starting to get sweltering – there was no air conditioner and everyone in the backseat was starting to get hot and sticky from their exertions – so the sweat that dripped down between her legs helped lubricate the cock in her ass-pipe. As Norm pumped his dick slowly in and out of her ass, Amy began to perspire more and more, feeling sensations she’d never imagined before from being skewered anally. But soon enough Amy got used to the thick shaft up her anal highway; even though it felt so weird up there, for some strange reason she was starting to enjoy it (or at least her body was beginning to).

Norm sensed this change in the blonde and said, “Hey Mikey – I think she likes it!!”

Everyone laughed inside the car except for the humiliated teen. Her sodomizer began to bounce her up and down his cock harder and with more intensity, much to Amy’s dismay. Her asshole felt so full – felt so strained – so stretched. And the hardness of the shaft – plunging in and out of her tiny anal sphincter relentlessly and without mercy – was overwhelming to say the least. To her shock, Amy cunt started to spasm in conjunction of the ass-fucking she was receiving; her body – overcome though it may be – seemed to be responding to the forced sodomy.

“OH FUCK!! This slut is soooo enjoying this – shit – her asshole feels too damn good!” Norm grunted out, bucking his hips up and down on the seat so that Amy would slam down hard onto his cock, squealing out loudly at each down stroke.

Brian interceded. “Pass her off to me, bro!”

So Amy was handed off to Brian, and soon – despite her best efforts – she had a second cock up her once-virginal asshole. Brian’s dick was a good eight inches long, and pretty thick as well. He fucked her just as roughly as Norm did, and soon Amy was wailing away and getting close to an orgasm. Once she had her first one, she knew she’d be in trouble.

At first Amy was simply on Brian’s lap, her long slender legs askew, lewdly displaying her cunt and the cock being driven up her rectum. After a few minutes, Brian nudged her head towards Norm and Tyler’s cocks, so that she was leaning over their laps, thick shafts sticking up towards her face. There was nothing Amy could do but open her mouth side, and accept the two cocks that were forced between her luscious red lips. Both men grabbed her hair and guided her face up and down their thick poles, ruthlessly deep-throating the gorgeous teenager. Amy had never tasted her own ass before, but she had no choice other than to suck and clean up the cocks before her.

So the pretty blonde was used and abused in this manner for well over twenty minutes, ass-fucking one cock, then another, and then another, over and over again, even as she was made to suck or jerk off the free dicks with her mouth and hands. The cocks of three strangers, desecrating her anally, repeatedly with pounding thrusts, eventually caused Amy to have a massive orgasm. She came hard and without warning, her pussy spewing out squirt after squirt of her boiling honey juices. It was even worse when the men played with her clit or finger-fucked her was she was simultaneously fucked in the ass – the pleasures dealt to her nubile young body multiplied in intensity.

And once Amy came, it took her only a few more minutes of continuous hard fucking to make her come again. The five guys loved it when they found out about this, and made sure that they maintained a consistently vigorous pace as they anally ploughed her. Soon enough the young men couldn’t take it anymore, and Tyler – who was currently fucking the blonde – growled out hornily as he cock twitched deeply within Amy’s rectum. He held her there for a few moments before letting loose a torrential gushing of boiling semen deep into the girl’s bowels. Amy bawled out indignantly at this, with an expression of despair on her face, but her own body betrayed her and came as well from the unexpected feeling of sperm being spraying deep in her insides.

“Fucking – HELL YEAH!!” Tyler shouted out triumphantly. His friends chuckled along with him as they quickly pulled the helpless girl off of him and impaled her gaping, cum dripping asshole back onto Norm’s dick.

As she felt the thick cock enter her dripping anal opening, Amy let out a low moan of torment as Norm fucked her brutally fast, close to his own orgasm. By now Amy had come multiple times and the interior of the car was hot and humid, the smell of the girl’s own love-juices hanging heavily in the air. The Camaro was stopped by the side of the road, Josh and Tony watching the spectacle in the backseat with increasing interest. Amy flushed red as she noticed both guys had their cocks out and were stroking them as they enviously watched their friends defile her.

Suddenly Norm came, spilling his seed deep inside of teenager’s rectum. Both he and Amy wailed out in ecstasy, the feeling of cumming inside the teenager’s slippery, debauched asshole amazing and delightful. Amy was then passed over to Brian and soon had his cock buried up her ass, as he furiously pumped away, completely disregarding her screams to stop. Brian again pushed her head into the laps of Tyler and Norm, and Amy had the disgusting job of cleaning off their cum covered dicks.

“Shit – watch this nasty bitch suck my cock clean, boys!!” Norm cackled.

Tony shook his head. “Dude – this babe is so fucking hot and nasty!!”

Amy tried to protest but unfortunately was gagging on Tyler’s drenched pole at the moment.

Tyler said, “Yeah – that’s right, slut! Suck up that cum! Now eat it!”

With her cheeks flushed in shame, Amy gulped and swallowed the cum that had shot up her asshole and that she had sucked off a cock. Just then Brian grunted and spurted his entire load up Amy’s anal chute, which was now a dripping, sodden mess, a wicked mixture of three men’s cum. The lovely blonde wailed out at that feeling, nearly delirious at this point, closing her eyes with her lips still wrapped around Tyler’s dick.

Next, after Brian made Amy clean off his penis and consume a mouthful of semen, the three men exited the vehicle in order to let Josh and Tony into the backseat. Lying on the seat, Amy sat up, startled, and realized what was happening.

“OH GOD! Please – no more! I don’t think I can take it anymore!!” Amy implored them.

The two men grinned at the girl, unbutton their jeans. Their eyes roamed all over Amy’s luscious young body, hungrily taking in her slender limbs, her heaving bosom, her spectacularly bare and wet pussy, and lastly her tender little asshole that was leaking cum.

Josh shook his head. “Shit! I bet a cock-hungry slut like you could never be satisfied with one man – let alone three! Don’t worry, babe, we’ll help you out!”

It was Amy’s turn to shake her head. She looked up at the two men with her big, beautiful blue eyes and pleaded, “I-I’m NOT a cock-hungry slut!”

But it wasn’t long before both men were sticking it to the gorgeous blonde. Josh took her anal highway first, plunging into this orifice with wild abandon, his raging boner longing for a piece of the girl. Meanwhile, Tony was on the other end of Amy and was making her gag on his man-meat, the tip of his cock scraping the throat of the young beauty’s raw. Stuck in the middle, Amy could only let out muffled squeals and moans, her convulsing cunt sopping wet and cumming on its own accord, the teen having lost all bodily control.

“UNGH – UNGH – UNGH – UNGH – UNGH – UNGH – UNGH – UNGH!!!” Amy managed to grunt out.

The friend’s took turns with each end of Amy, turning the teenager around so that they each had a turn with her ass or mouth. This severe anal tag-teaming ravaged the young woman, pushing her into overdrive. Amy’s brain switched off, and it seemed she was only aware of her most base emotions and sensations – the cocks being drilled up her ass and down her throat being foremost in her mind; the thickness of them, their dense rigidity, and their heft and heaviness on her small tongue, as well as the searing heat emanating from both dicks. She also noticed other minute details such as the cock’s incredibly soft skin contrasting with the stiffness underneath, the bumpy ridged veins popping up in some places, but most of all she was conscious of the flavours overwhelming her; the stench and taste of her ass combined with three other men’s jism was just too powerful for the girl.

After a few good rounds of ass-ramming and mouth-fucking – wonderful for the boys but nearly unbearable for Amy – Josh and Tony were ready to blow their wads as well. Fucking her ass hard and fast, Josh suddenly stopped deep inside of the girl and his entire body tensed. Time slowed down for him as his cock spit out load after load of his creamy jism, deep inside the depths of Amy’s anal-highway. The teen gurgled in response to this illicit feelings of being coated with sperm within her most private parts. Then Tony grunted and came shortly after his friend did, unable to hold back his cum any longer. Thick streams of cock-juice shot straight down the throat of the unprepared blonde, and soon Amy was choking on Tony’s hot jizz, trying to swallow as much as she could since the asshole kept pumping his dick in and out of her mouth.

Within a few minutes, however, both men withdrew from the girl, their shafts softening and satiated. All three of them were sweating profusely and the interior of the Camaro now stunk of their love-juices. Tony and Josh grinned at each other, both thinking how lucky they were to find such a hot babe to screw around with.

“Hot damn!” Tony exclaimed, slapping his semi-hard cock against Amy’s face. “This bitch so fucking fine!” There was cum dripping from the teen’s lips onto her chin which – using his dick-head – Tony began to smear all over her cheeks.

“S-stop that!” said Amy angrily, but of course he ignored her.

Josh agreed with his friend wholeheartedly. “Totally, bro! You guys wanna go for seconds?” While Tony’s face lit up, Josh expected to hear something from his friends standing outside of the Camaro, but instead he noticed that they were all staring at something behind their car.

This was unusual – what could possibly be more interesting to a bunch of horny college kids than a super-hot babe that they had just gang-banged anally? Looking through the rear window, Josh suddenly realized what the fuss was about. Parked behind their Camaro was a county police vehicle, with its lights flashing ominously. All of a sudden the police siren blared loudly for a few seconds before turning off.

All five guys and one cum-soaked girl looked nervously behind them to watch the lone police officer exit his vehicle and walk slowly towards the group. The man was big – six feet five inches tall with a barrel chest, thick arms, with a solid build – and he looked serious. He wore a khaki coloured uniform and had his hand on his gun, ready to pull out at a moment’s notice. They couldn’t tell who he was looking at because of he had on a pair of shiny sunglasses.

“OH SHIT!” Tony said, hastily zipping up his pants as Josh struggled to do the same.

The officer bellowed out in a commanding voice. “Everyone stay where they are – hands where I can see them!”

All five men froze, suddenly afraid of what they had just done. On the other hand, Amy felt elated – she couldn’t wait to charge these fuckers for rape!

Then the officer said in a booming voice, “Anyone inside the Camaro – come out now!”

Tony and Josh, having fully zipped up their pants, got out of the car slowly and carefully. They both looked very nervous. Amy got out even more slowly – she was nude and only wore her cowboy boots at the moment. But she was holding onto her jean skirt and baby-t shirt with the intention of dressing outside of the car.

“Drop what’s in your hand, Miss!” the cop shouted.

Amy smiled back timidly. “I just thought I could put these on now. I can’t very well be outside at the side of the road – in broad daylight – naked, can I?”

“Drop what’s in your hand, and then put your hands behind your head, Miss! Don’t make me repeat myself again!”

The smile faded from Amy’s face. “U-umm – sorry officer!” She dropped her clothes on the ground and placed her hands behind her neck, elbows out with her fingers interlocked. She felt very conspicuous since she was completely nude.

Motioning to her, the officer said, “Come over here!”

Awkwardly walking over, the teen was fuming inside at her predicament. She could tell all the guys were staring at her large breasts, which bounced deliciously with each step she took. Even the cop seemed to be enjoying this, and Amy wondered how much worse her day could get! Amy’s legs were a bit weak from the recent gangbang but eventually she was able to stand in front of the officer. She looked up at him with uneasy eyes, able to see the reflection of herself on the man’s mirrored glasses.

The officer gazed at the blonde up and down with a mixed expression of appreciation and disgust on his face. He got down on one knee and looked into her cowboy boots, rooting around with two fingers as if searching for a weapon. Still on the ground, he peered up at Amy and asked, “What were you all doing in the vehicle?”

Amy was blushing furiously, because from the officer’s vantage point, his face was really close to her bare pussy. She couldn’t tell if he was staring at her cunt or at her tits, but he had a great view of both. “Thank God you arrived! These men here just raped me in that car! Arrest them, Officer – Officer -”

All five guys looked like they had been caught in the act. They glanced at each other and each had a look on their face that this didn’t look very good.

It was Josh who tried to say something. “Officer – “

“Call me Officer Raylen! And be quiet – I’ll speak to you boys in a minute!” the man said threateningly.

“Y-yes, sir!” Josh replied.

Officer Raylen turned back to Amy. “Do you know these boys? Tell me what happened, Miss.”

“W-well, I was hitchhiking when these boys picked me up -” Amy started.

“Hitchhiking!?” the cop interrupted her. “Did you know it’s illegal to hitchhike in this county?”

The teen’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Ummm – well, I don’t think I was hitchhiking in this county, we were just passing through -”

“Are you trying to get lippy with me? Where is your identification?”

“It’s – it’s in my bags! In the trunk of the Camaro!” Amy answered, getting more nervous by the minute. This certainly wasn’t the treatment she was expecting!

Raylen motioned the teen to get her stuff, so she turned towards the Camaro. Tony threw her his set of keys, which Amy used to unlock the trunk. She threw back the keys, pulled out her backpack and small luggage, then returned to her position in front of the cop. When she noticed the officer was still waiting for her, Amy knelt down and rummaged through her backpack, eventually finding her I.D. She handed it over to Raylen, who looked at it before making some notes in his notepad.

Then the officer glanced back at the girl. “When you were bending over in the trunk, I noticed a lot of semen dripping from your asshole … you weren’t ass-fucking these boys by any chance, were you Missy?”

Now Amy was completely confused and upset by this line of questioning. “N-NO! They were fucking ME in the ass!”

Nodding, Raylen replied, “Well – did you know that sodomy is against the law in this county as well?”

Amy smiled triumphantly. “So are you going to arrest all these assholes, Officer?”

“Go over to my car, bend over and place you hands on the hood. Keep your legs spread wide!” Raylen ordered the girl.

Utterly confused, Amy followed the officer’s instructions, feeling totally exposed once she did so. She turned her head to look behind her, only to see all six men staring at her nubile young body. Her most private parts were on full display now, while her massive jugs dangled deliciously beneath her. Even with cum dripping and drying down her slender legs, Amy knew she probably still looked pretty hot at that moment.

She watched as Officer Raylen spoke with the five frat boys, but couldn’t really hear what they were talking about. Occasionally they’d glance back at her, but she could see the tension ease out of the group slowly but surely. Finally, after about five minutes, the five men quickly got into their vehicle, Raylen apparently letting them go free.

The gorgeous blonde was livid at this turn of events. “What the hell are you doing – letting them get away like this!? Aren’t you going to arrest them!?” she yelled at the officer.

“Keep your voice down, Missy!” Raylen answered, menace in his tone.

But Amy was too angry to care anymore. She stood up and turned towards Raylen, just as the Camaro peeled away from the side of the road. “STOP THEM!! They’re getting away!”

Amy took a step towards Raylen and was pointing at the Camaro as it sped away with her index finger. What happened next took the teenager completely by surprise. Officer Raylen pushed Amy lightly backwards so that her luscious ass plopped onto the hood of the police vehicle. He had hand back on his handgun, while his other hand was held before him. Raylen used his free hand and pressed against Amy’s chest, so that her frame was mashed between the car and the officer.

“I told you to place you hands on the hood of my car and to spread your legs, Missy! And you can’t even obey that!” the big man bellowed threateningly to the tiny teen.

Taken aback, Amy instantly lowered her voice, realizing she was at the complete mercy of this cop. She meekly replied, “S-s-sorry, sir! B-but you let those rapists go!”

This comment had no impact on Raylen. He just continued to stare back at Amy impassively, only now he was pressing his own body against hers.

Officer Raylen snorted. “In this county, it’s illegal to practice sodomy, but only if you’re on the receiving end!”

Amy was dumbfounded. “What the fuck does that mean!? That doesn’t make any sense at all!!”

“Well – it means that the person who consents or invites a man to fuck them in the ass can be charged under this law. We can’t charge a man who fucks an ass … well … because what man could resist!?” He coughed at that last statement.

“That is the stupidest law I have ever heard of!!” Amy cried, now pushing back at the cop to free herself from his overbearing posture and crazy laws. “Get OFF of me!!”

“Well now -” Raylen replied, gripping Amy by an arm and then easily flipping her over so that she lay face down on the hood of his car. “- I could arrest you for assaulting an officer, but I feel lenient today, so I’ll only charge you for hitchhiking and anal sex!”

“WAIT!!” This was too much for the teenager, and she asked incredulously, “You’re charging ME for anal sex!? They fucked ME in the ass – why aren’t you charging them!?”

The officer paused at that. He had both of Amy’s hands behind her back and was taking out his handcuffs. “Well – if you let them fuck you in the ass, how could they possibly resist!?”

Fuming at this logic, Amy said in an exasperated tone, “But I didn’t consent!!” She couldn’t believe that he was going to arrest her for this stupid law!

Raylen hesitated, before slipping on the cuffs to the girl’s wrists and locking them tightly. “Well – that’s for the judge to decide, I guess! I’m only a cop.” He pulled Amy off his hood and started walking her to the back of the vehicle. “Off to the station with you!”

Amy realized that today was the worst day of her life, and if she didn’t act more smartly, it could get much worse for her. She was going to get arrested for having anal sex with five men, which was forced upon her. An idea formed in her head, and as Officer Raylen opened the rear door of the car, she quickly made the decision to move forward with her desperate plan.

“WAIT!! Wait – what if you let me go …” Amy started, resisting Raylen’s attempt at getting her into the backseat. “… and I’ll do something for you?”

The officer paused at those words and appeared to be thinking hard. Finally he said, “And what could you offer me? Theoretically speaking, of course, since the only thing I’ll be doing will be to take you to the station and book you!”

The lovely blonde had a queasy feeling in her tummy. She had never, ever done anything like this before. “I – I could give you a blowjob?” she said tentatively, not knowing if this was one of those corrupt county cops her dad had always warned her about. Would he take up the offer?

But Raylen stood where he was, appearing indecisive and contemplative with what the beautiful teenager offered to him. This dawdling gave Amy some hope that her plan could in fact succeed.

She sat down on the edge of the backseat of the open car, with her long, slender legs sticking out but still on the ground, lewdly displayed before the officer. With her hands handcuffed behind her, the eighteen year old stuck her chest out at him to show off her most bountiful assets – huge tits that defied gravity which were topped off with sweet strawberry nipples. Amy then gave Officer Raylen the most lustful expression she could muster, which was actually pretty damned lustful; her gorgeous face, bedroom eyes and rosy red lips mesmerized the man.

“I suck cock like you wouldn’t believe!” she said in a low, erotic whisper.

Raylen actually gulped when Amy said that.

Smiling sensually, the girl continued on in a teasing manner. “Or you can mouth-fuck me if you want! Make me gag on your big, monster cock! Oh yeah – I see your monster dick there in your pants … slowly getting harder and harder! Do you wanna take out that giant cock of yours and abuse my pretty little mouth with it?”

Sucking in a breath, the cop murmured, “Jesus…”

Licking her lips suggestively, Amy knew she had him where she wanted. “Do you wanna shoot your load all over my pretty face? Or make me swallow your nasty, nasty cum like a filthy little whore?”

There was clearly something large and hard straining inside Officer Raylen’s pants, and he was breathing a lot more heavily now. “God…”

Amy glanced at the man’s wedding band, and then said, “Does your wife suck your cock?”

Raylen unconsciously clasped his wedding ring and answered, “No! No – my wife hates sucking cock…”

The naughty teen leaned forward and began to rub her face and cheeks all over the man’s crotch. “Mmmmmmm – I love sucking cock! And no one needs to know – just you and me! Let me go and I’ll suck your cock!”

Groaning out loudly, Raylen ran some fingers through Amy’s luxurious hair, then caressed her cheeks tenderly. He then ran his thumb over the girl’s luscious lips. Amy kissed his thumb before opening her mouth ever so slightly, eventually letting her nimble tongue slip out and lick him seductively. Next Amy let the officer slip his thumb into her mouth, which she sucked and slurped on gingerly, giving him a taste of what to expect.

“OH God! I really shouldn’t be doing this!” Raylen muttered to himself. But he couldn’t help it – this little sexual kitten was too much for him to bear. He looked around and realized he didn’t dare let Amy suck his cock off at the side of the road. “Come with me!”

He grabbed onto Amy’s arm and pulled her with him. There was nothing the blonde could do but follow him into the brush, but they didn’t need to walk far before the officer felt they had enough privacy.

“OK – this will do!” Raylen leaned against a tree, unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis. It was massive and still hard – at least nine inches long but thankfully not too thick.

Sighing inwardly, Amy wondered she was encountering so many big dicks today. She looked at the cop and wondered if he would un-cuff her, but when he just looked at her, the blonde sank to her knees, staring at the cock in front of her in trepidation. Leaning forward, Amy opened her lips wide and stuck out her tongue, then slowly took Raylen’s member into her mouth.

Raylen’s cock tasted terrible, but not as bad as some of the men she had sucked off earlier in the day. The officer seemed content to let her do all the work, so Amy started off by licking up and down his long shaft with her supple tongue, and it soon became coated with a thin sheen of saliva. Amy would spit on it now and then, so that the cock would drip long, gooey strands of saliva to the ground, if she couldn’t catch and slurp it back up. The lovely blonde would run her sweet lips up and down Raylen’s rock hard pole, much to his delight, simultaneously sucking and kissing it while she did this. She spent some time lapping at the man’s disgustingly hairy testicles, which were large and brown just like his dick. Amy could tell he loved this oral attention, simply by the way Raylen moaned and groaned, and by the horny expression on his face.

Soon enough she was pumping her head back and forth, mouth-fucking the cock, trying to take in as much of it as she could. However, she could only take in a good five or six inches of it at the moment, since she still had her wrists cuffed behind her back. Her head bobbed away, to and fro, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked the officer off as hard as she could. Every now and then Amy would pause at the tip of Raylen’s penis so that she could catch her breath; when she did this the teen would twirl her lithe tongue vigorously over the bulbous cock-head, causing the officer to gasp out in delight.

“Oh fuck, yeah! What a nasty little cock-sucker you are!!” Raylen growled. “Fuck – that’s right! Suck me off, you little slut!”

“Mmmmmmmmm!!” Amy responded. She wanted him to enjoy this and set her free. Perhaps he’d even drive her to Belmeade afterward? Who knew? So she continued to blow Raylen enthusiastically.

Officer Raylen really got into mood after about ten minutes into the blowjob. Amy was one of the hottest pieces of ass he’d ever seen, and her cock-sucking techniques were mind-blowing. Holding onto her head with his hands, Raylen began to ram his dick deep into the girl’s mouth. After a few minutes, he was deeply throat-fucking the teen, who – although clearly struggling with the length of his member – eagerly let him have his way with her. Even when he was clearly clogging the back of her throat, when he let Amy have a breather – when she’d cough and sputter up her spit – she simply looked up at him with a sexy smile and a willingness to defile her further.

“Oh God – your big cock is so fucking big and tasty! Stick it my mouth again!” she begged him.

This was too much for the man. Raylen’s wife hated sucking him off, and absolutely refused to do so. He hadn’t had a blowjob in four years, so he took out his frustrations on the poor teenager, pounding away viciously between her lips, until his body tensed and he let out a loud groan. His cock began to cum, spewing out load after load deep inside Amy’s throat. Raylen held onto the blonde’s head for few moments longer than he anticipated because his orgasm felt so good, which meant Amy couldn’t breathe and started to choke. After an anxious moment for the blonde, the man finally released her, instead jerking his dick off so that his jizz would splatter all over the girl’s pretty face.

“W-wow!!” Amy mumbled to herself, coughing and spitting out cum.

The jism was thick and sticky; the ropy streams of white hot semen nearly plastered her face over completely. Opening her eyes, she realized what a mess she must be, then looked up at the officer and grinned. She licked her lips and consumed any cum that was there. “So do we have a deal?”

[Sorry this one took so long to complete. I've noticed that I have to finish my stories completely before posting, and I didn't really have an ending to this when I wrote this years ago. Hopefully it was worth the wait. BTW -- I know garbage men don't usually work at midnight -- please allow me this small conceit!]


Sitting next to Steve in the Opera House, Lori Sanders crossed her shapely legs unhappily and waited for the intermission to end. She hadn’t paid much attention to the performance – her mind kept wandering back to the events following her disastrous shopping trip. Her plans were a bust. After bringing her new clothes back to her apartment, she quickly headed to the bedroom to change, and she found that there were no clothes in the bag! They had disappeared somewhere along the way back home – where and when, she didn’t know. She wondered why hadn’t she noticed the change in weight, and if she should have worn the clothes at the mall in the first place.

There were many questions but only one real answer: the genie’s magic. No matter what she would think of logically it wouldn’t amount to anything since she was up against the wildest of cards. What could she do against something she didn’t understand at? All she knew was that she was royally screwed. Fucking genie, she cursed silently.

So she put on the new tight, black, lacey, and revealing one-piece cocktail dress that was waiting for her in the closet after taking another shower. Again, it showed off all of her natural assets; it had too much cleavage in the front, a too short hem-line that barely covered her pussy, and a v-shaped opening at the back that plunged all the way down to the crack of her pert rear end – all held together by thin spaghetti-straps upon her shoulders.

Steve loved the dress and brightened up considerably after picking up the stunning blonde. Normally Lori dressed and acted so conservatively and demure – now she was the exact opposite! Her sexy strapless high-heels and classy-yet-naughty dress only amplified her natural beauty. They two had been on eight dates and so far Steve hadn’t even gotten past first base. He kept at it because the blonde was such a hot babe. Now – after dreaming about fucking Lori for ages – he was thinking it might finally be his lucky night!

Just as the performance was getting underway again, Lori’s pussy suddenly felt full. There was another dildo inside her again! The girl squirmed in her seat and noticed that somehow this dildo was different than the first one – it was vibrating! Thankfully the noise from the orchestra masked the sounds emanating from her snatch, but the dildo inside of her was definitely a working vibrator!

Lori’s face immediately reddened in embarrassment at her predicament. She looked around her and so far no one had noticed her distress. God, she thought, I look like a slut already, but to be discovered at an opera with a dildo up my pussy!

Glancing at her watch, Lori wondered how long she could manage with this device up her snatch. The opera would last for another hour – the question was, could she? Then she noticed in dismay that she was sitting with her knees far apart! Snapping them together, she crossed her legs and tried to concentrate on what was happening on the stage.

Ten minutes later the strain was too much for the blonde as she experienced a small orgasm that made her body shake. Her cunt juices were flowing freely now and she could almost smell a faint, musky tinge of it emanating from between her moist thighs. Lori knew she had to leave soon or risk alerting the other patrons to her situation.

She grabbed Steve’s hand and whispered in his ear, “We’ve got to leave now! Please! I’m not feeling well!”

Her date noted her slight convulsion just moments ago and the light sweat on her forehead. “All right,” he said in concern, “let’s get out of here, Lori.”

He had to almost carry her out of the front doors and through the parking lot towards his car. He held onto her slender shoulders and half dragged his date with him, because she couldn’t walk straight anymore and gradually couldn’t even stand without his help.

Meanwhile, Lori was on the verge of another, bigger orgasm as the vibrator mercilessly pulsated within her steamy snatch. She saw that they were within fifteen feet of Steve’s car, but all of a sudden could go no further – she couldn’t hold it in any longer. Bending over with her hands on her knees, Lori came with a loud moan as the vibrator slipped out of her pussy and dropped onto the ground with a dull thud.

“What the hell was that?” Steve asked, holding onto the shaking girl. “Are you alright, Lori?” The parking lot wasn’t lit especially well, and at first he couldn’t make out what the object was that had fallen out from underneath his date’s dress. Slowly, it dawned on him as to what it was, as his eyes adjusted to the shadows. “Is that a vibrator?”

Still recovering from her exertions, his panting date was too embarrassed to answer him.

Steve had a hard time holding back a triumphant grin. After several dates with Lori he had assumed it would be at least several months before she’d have sex with him. He now changed his mind, though, after witnessing the events of this crazy date. What had started out as a normal evening out at the opera had turned into what could be one of the sexual highlights of his life! This former “Ice Queen” had suddenly changed into a hot little vixen! He was sure he was going to get laid tonight!


“For the last time,” Lori stated in an exasperated tone, “I’m not going to bed with you, and that’s final!” She couldn’t believe they were still having this conversation!

Steve scowled while making a right turn, and then stepped on the accelerator with a heavy foot. The wheels on his car squealed on the dark, lonely road. “Come on, Lori!” he reasoned, “What am I supposed to think? Look at how you’re dressed! Look at what was up your … your -”

“What you’re supposed to do is be a gentleman, and respect your date and her wishes!” Lori countered in anger.

“Gentleman!?” Steve yelled, furious. “Who’s the fucking whore at the opera with a vibrator up her cunt!?”

“WHORE!?” Did you just call me a whore?” Lori gasped. “You are such an ASSHOLE!”

He had enough of this bullshit and slammed on the brakes. Reaching over Lori, Steve pushed open the passenger door and said, “Get the fuck out of my car, you fucking tease!!”

Lori was dumbfounded. “Aren’t you going to take me home?”


The startled girl scrambled out of the car and watched in despair as Steve slammed the door and raced away in furious anger, the lights of his car gradually getting dimmer and dimmer. She shivered in the night air, fully aware of how scantily clad she was. Taking in her surroundings, she realized she was in the Ogden area – a fairly rough neighborhood – and miles away from her own apartment.

Lori quickly hid in a dark alleyway close to the spot where Steve dropped her off. That’s when she realized that she had left her purse in Steve’s vehicle! She was in a real jam now with no cell phone and no money. Lori didn’t want to think about what would happen to her if a gang of men discovered her at this time of night. Her only hope now was for Steve to come to his senses and return to pick her up.

Twenty minutes passed. Forty minutes. An hour. Lori knew the prick wasn’t going to come back.

She glanced at her watch – it was well past midnight now – and wondered how would she ever get home. In the last hour, two groups of men walked by her hiding spot. During the same time, she hadn’t seen any taxis or police cruisers drive by, and in fact there were very few cars on the street.

Suddenly a noisy engine broke through the stillness of the night. A garbage truck slowly edged its way into the alley, bright headlights cutting through the darkness. At first, the jumpy girl hid behind some boxes, watching as two men descended from the cab and began emptying cans of trash into the back of the truck. Then she realized that this was her ticket home!

“Please!! You’ve got to help me!” the girl pleaded, rushing before the two surprised men. She explained to them that her story, leaving out all the sordid details. Finishing her tale, Lori found that the two seemed more interested in her breasts and legs than in her dire predicament.

The two garbage men peeled their eyes off of Lori’s assets long enough to introduce themselves. Joe was the larger of the two; a hulking man in his mid-thirties with average features who – while not extremely muscular – was built solidly with a bit of a beer belly. Larry was the opposite of his co-worker; short, balding, and fat, he had ugly features such as a large nose and beady eyes that made him the more unattractive of the two. He was just entering his forties and had clearly let life wear him down. Both men were wearing worn, grey jumpsuits — the kind that had one long zipper in the front — and were soiled and smelly from their long day of labor.

“The thing is, Miss,” Larry said, licking his lips and staring at Lori’s tremendous cleavage, “it’s against regulations for us to pick up anyone. Rules are rules, you know!”

These fucking little shits, the girl thought to herself. “Could you at least radio the police for me then?”

“Our radio is broken, Miss,” Joe smugly said with a touch of malice in his eyes. The two men exchanged glances with each other, hoping the blonde would understand what they were hinting at – what they wanted.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat; Lori knew she was at the mercy of these two. She then realized that she would have been far better off sleeping with Steve, but there was no turning back the clock now. Her choices at the moment were either staying in the alley or giving herself away to these two garbage men.

She studied the two closely and knew that they were losers with nothing going for them. They were greasy, smelly, domineering, and rude. Fucking a hot blonde such as herself would be one of the highlights in their pathetic lives. She knew what they wanted – it was what Carl Allen and Brad and his friends wanted earlier in the day: a fuck-toy. Looking at her menacing surroundings, it wasn’t too hard for the blonde to make a decision.

Letting go of the last remnants of her pride and self-respect, Lori grabbed the two men by their forearms and begged, “Please! Just take me home, and I’ll do anything you want!”

Joe sneered at her, “Anything?”

The young blonde bit her lip, “Anything! I’ll be your little fuck-slut, cum-slut, alley-slut – you two can use me however you want!! Just promise me you’ll take me home afterwards!”

Larry’s beady black eyes glistened in anticipation. “Use you however we want … I don’t know if you know what we want! Joe – I don’t know if this chick is worth our jobs!”

“Really!! I’ll do anything you want!! You can fuck my mouth, my pussy, my ass!! I’ll swallow your cum!! I LOVE to eat cum!!” Lori pleaded. “Fuck me raw! Fuck me until you’re out of cum!! I’ll be your cum bucket!”

With that the girl wrapped herself around Larry and began kissing him deeply, thrusting her hot tongue into his rancid mouth and trying hard not to recoil from his stench and repulsiveness. She brought his hands up to massage her bouncy tits, and then fondled his growing erection. A minute later she did the same thing to Joe, French-kissing the stranger as if they long-time lovers.

Smiling, Larry said, “I think we have a deal …”


The two garbage men had about an hour’s work left on their route still – so the plan was for them to take two half-hour shifts – one would work while the other played with Lori. When they were finished they got to fuck her and afterwards they’d drop her off home.

Larry — the lucky devil – had the first go at the tight blonde. He hadn’t been laid in a while (and usually if he did he had to pay for it), and he knew that he’d have few chances in life to fuck a luscious beauty such as Lori. As soon as the two go into the passenger seat – Larry sitting down with Lori straddled over his lap – he ran his filthy fingers all over her body, relishing the incredible feeling of Lori’s youthful, buttery-smooth skin. His hands ran over her body from top to bottom; first over her abundant, swelling tits, then down to her slim waist, and finally to her taut, toned legs.

The fat man groaned as he slipped his fingers underneath short skirt and found nothing but silky flesh. “Look at this slutty bitch, buddy!” Larry said grinning, pulling the skirt up so that it wrapped around her waist. “God DAMN!! You are one fine bitch!”

Lori’s face flushed in shame as Joe looked the two over, whistling in approval. He then said, “Jesus, look at that body!!”

“SHIT – you have the most perfect ass I’ve ever seen!” Larry groaned, ecstatically squeezing Lori’s pert buttocks. His fingers snuck down to the girl’s moist crevice and began playing with her pussy lips and sensitive clitoris. “What do you want, you slut!?”

“Oh God – put your fingers up my fuck holes!” Lori cried, closing her eyes as Larry stuck some fingers into her wet pussy. “Oh – yeah! Play with my pussy, you bastard!” She ground her moist slit against his wriggling, oily fingers, becoming suddenly horny and losing herself in that feeling. For the second time that day she wondered why every time she was degraded she would get aroused.

Looking down, she saw Larry eyeing her tits. She slipped the spaghetti-straps off her shoulders and pulled down the top of her dress to her waist, freeing her round, delicious melons. Lori was now totally exposed except for the dress wrapped around her slender waist and her high heels.

Smiling at her submissiveness, Larry took one hand and began fondling Lori’s breasts. Her nipples were already hard and the young blonde gasped as he pinched and played with them. He asked, “You like that, bitch?”

Moaning sexily, Lori grabbed her large tits with both hands – freeing Larry’s in the process – so that she could guide them into his mouth herself. “Fuck yes! Play with my titties! Suck them – God – YES – use your tongue!” The fat garbage man sloppily nibbled on Lori’s tasty nipples, using his teeth and tongue to make Lori squirm on his lap. She helped him by putting one nipple in his mouth, removing it, and then plopping in the other one.

“You like that, baby?” Larry said.

“Uh-huh! Use me like a fucking whore! I’m your fuck-toy tonight!”

Then the fat man sucked on a couple of his own fingers before sliding his saliva-coated hand behind Lori’s buttocks to touch her anal opening, causing the girl to flinch at the contact. “C’mon slut! Tell me what you want!”

“Stick your fingers up my asshole! Fuck my tiny asshole with your – OHHHH!” Lori cried as Larry complied with her wishes.

Larry leered at the young woman. “You like cocks up your ass, you slutty cunt?”

“Oh yes – I love to be fucked up – aaahhhhh – the ass by big, dirty cocks because I’m – ooohhhh – such a naughty little girl!” The blonde’s hips undulated as her tormentor finger-fucked her two most sensitive orifices.

“You like big dicks, huh?”

“Ohhhh God – yes! I love big, hard – ahhhhh – monster cocks that – ummmm – stretch my tiny holes!” Lori wasn’t even paying much attention to the conversation – as she was distracted by Larry’s fingers – and didn’t realize how much of a slut she sounded like to the two men.

“Well – you’re in luck tonight!” Larry said, beaming with pride. He grabbed one of her hands and placed it on his crotch. “Feel this sucker!”

The young blonde groped the fat man and her eyes widened as she felt the unmistakable mass of a large, hard penis. Not as monstrous as Carl Allen’s pecker, but much larger than she wanted it to be…

“You look surprised!” Larry grinned. “Yeah, I may be a shorty, but I’m blessed with a ten-inch schlong! Check out Joe’s!”

He made Lori reach over to examine Joe’s penis, and she was even more dismayed to find another giant shaft waiting for her services. It seemed to be about just as big as her black rapist’s…

“You like the idea of two monster cock’s sliding in and out of your ass and pussy at once?” Larry mockingly asked, watching the stunned blonde wince at the thought of being double-penetrated.

Lori answered hesitantly, “God – I – I don’t know if I could handle -”

“What’s the matter,” Joe chimed in menacingly, “you can’t take twenty-inches of dick at once? You backing out of the deal?”

“NO!!” Lori gulped, “I – I – want you two studs to stuff your horse-cocks as deep as you can inside my fuck-holes!!”

The two men exchanged laughs. “That’s what we like to hear from smutty little bitches like you!” Larry told the pretty blonde, and then resumed defiling her tender orifices with his grubby fingers.

The two made out in this manner for the most of the thirty minute shift, only altering things whenever Joe stopped the truck and went outside to work. During these periods Larry laid the blonde flat on her back upon the seat and – slouching over slightly while at the same time holding her ass up to his face – ate her pussy out. It was an extremely uncomfortable position for the girl as there simply wasn’t that much room, thus her legs and knees were lewdly spread wide apart. She was glad it was so late that there was no one around to look inside the steamy cab.

Larry wasn’t especially good at cunnilingus, and in fact the act was more about his violation of the blonde than for her pleasure. The pig just wanted to stick slurping tongue obscenely inside her most private of places. He’d spit on it, and then would raunchily shoved his wiggling tongue inside her rosy slit as far as it could go, massaging her tender vaginal walls now slick from her sweet honey juices. Lori – hips writhing in pleasure – was now panting heavily from her exertions.

Sometimes Larry would stab her anal hole with his vulgar tongue, making Lori gasp from the contact because her asshole was still sore from being sodomized earlier in the day. The little man was ruthless and continued to sully her in this manner no matter how much she contorted in front of him. In fact, he was cruelly delighted in making her thrash about from his tongue-lashings; he loved how Lori’s beautiful body – now coated with a thin sheen of sweat – twisted and bounced up and down in sexual delight and depravity. He instinctively guessed that the blonde was prudish on the surface but was secretly turned on inside, judging from her body language.

Half an hour passed in this fashion before Larry finally switched places with Joe. The tall, hulking man was the quieter of the two; whereas Larry would talk smack and try to belittle Lori, the larger man simply piped in every now and then with a smattering of comments. But he turned out to be just as sadistic as his fat partner, if not more so.

Joe had extremely long, thick fingers which he put to immediate use, jabbing them into Lori’s two holes without any hesitation as the two settled into the passenger seat. He finger-fucked her swiftly and furiously, causing the slim blonde to orgasm within minutes.

The big man was mesmerized by Lori’s tight, voluptuous body. Her big, jiggling tits, thin waist, and long legs were unbelievable! She wasn’t a small woman, but she seemed tiny and diminutive next to the large garbage man. He couldn’t believe that she was willing to take his cock up each of her holes!

What he really ached for was to take out his penis and fuck her silly, but he figured that could wait for a bit. He took his three wet, steamy fingers out of Lori’s cunt, brought them up to her face, and touched her lips with them.

Lori looked at the glistening fingers before licking them gently. Then she began kissing and licking his fingers, tasting her own juices and becoming more aroused in the process. Next – looking at Joe with eyes both innocent and slutty – she opened her mouth and swallowed his fingers, slurping and smacking her lips loudly. She noticed Joe’s dick twitch uncontrollably in his pants and wondered why it was so easy for her to be such a cock-teaser.

I met Bobbie at Lisa and Jake’s housewarming party. By the time the party started, I was already tired — I’m not exactly a social butterfly, and I’d spent the afternoon helping Lisa get her house ready and setting out food. I’m friendly enough, but I’m not outgoing. Even though I said hello to everyone and even mingled a little, I spent more time sitting out on the patio with the dog, eating chips, and occasionally slipping the chips to the dog, which is why I suspect the dog was finding me such good company.

“Pardon, do you have a light?” I handed the woman my lighter and tossed the dog another chip.

She lit up, illuminating full lips painted dark red, and handed it back. “Thanks. You out here getting away from it all, or do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Sure,” I said. “Please sit down.” I smiled at her automatically, then looked again. Most fabulous looking girl! She had blonde hair — bombshell blonde, unapologetically out of a bottle, worn in a 40′s style updo with the cliché Bettie Page bangs, but instead of framing the Gawth-pale face with drawn-on eyebrows, her skin looked soft and natural, and her brows were perfect arches over big dark eyes — again lined retro-style, with heavy dark lashes, but on her it was done right. Add in those lush red lips, and oh, yes, be still my beating heart. Not too perfect-looking, mind you; gorgeous, but not intimidating and unattainable-looking. She was just this side of plump, with voluptuous curves barely contained in a poison-green satin wiggle dress. There was a rose tattooed on the upper curve of one of her breasts. I’m not huge on tattoos, but she was so damn easy on the eyes it added rather than detracted. This woman looked so soft and pleasing, and lovely, and when she took a drag off her cigarette, those perfectly-uptilted tits raised in a way that made me catch my breath.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare. You look…great,” I said.

She grinned; one of her front teeth was slightly chipped. “Thanks. You’re not too bad, yourself.”

“Thanks,” I didn’t look too bad tonight — I’m small, curvy myself (though not to the full effect this pretty critter was), and a bit exotic-looking; I’d decided to wear a sundress with a pattern of blue roses — also vintage in cut, and showing off what I have. But next to this angel? Chopped liver.

“It’s nice to see someone else who likes retro looks. Would you mind standing up so I can see your dress better?”

I complied, twirling campily, ending with a little curtsey. I had a fleeting moment of thinking I was an idiot, but she smiled and looked me up and down, the tip of her tongue caught between her front teeth, and I realized that yes, I was flirting. And she was responding.

“Nice,” she nodded. “That’s perfect on you. You’re lovely.” The dog, realizing that he wasn’t getting enough attention and the chip distribution had paused, had wandered down into the yard. The girl took one last drag on her cigarette and leaned over to put it out in the ashtray on the table between us, causing a minor commotion in the top of her dress again.

“I’m Bobbie, by the way. I used to work with Lisa’s boyfriend Jake. We started hanging out together back then, and we’re still buddies. Don’t know Lisa as well as I’d like to yet, but she seems to be good people.”

I took her proffered hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Lula. I’ve known Lisa for about…seven years? Jeez, it’s been that long…I don’t know Jake that well yet, myself.”

She shook my hand. But she didn’t quite let it go as quickly as one usually does, and she squeezed my fingers gently when she finally did relinquish it.

We chatted for a while, in a way that might have been completely innocent, but had an undercurrent of flirtation. I’m really pretty shy and not demonstrative, and as a bisexual woman, I move really cautiously especially when it comes to girls I find attractive. I swore, though, she seemed more than casually interested about my relationship status: I’m engaged, my fiance is geographically distant, and while neither of us would want to do anything to jeopardize our relationship, he knows my tendency to like girls…and it turns him on. Me playing with girls is all right in his book. I tiptoed around that, but she did get that I sometimes play with girls. So it was out there.

“I prefer girls, myself. I don’t date a lot, and I do date guys sometimes, but…I like women better.” She said, finishing off with another adorable, seismic shrug. I could have sworn she was suddenly even warmer toward me, and sitting a little closer. She reached out and touched the back of my hand. “Do you want to go in and get another drink?”

We both chose Diet Cokes from the ice-filled cooler in the kitchen. While we were standing there talking, someone jostled my elbow. Diet Coke fizzed out, scoring a direct hit on the front of my dress.

“Dammit,” I said, swiping my fingers at it uselessly.

“Hang on — let me see if they have any seltzer or something.” She went into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of club soda and a cloth napkin.

“I don’t think it’ll be too bad…” I muttered, swiping at my chest with the napkin.

“Cola stains. Come on, let’s get as much of it off as we can.” She led me to the little bathroom by the kitchen, closing and locking the door behind us.

She was all business as she poured club soda onto the napkin, and began dabbing and blotting at the Diet Coke. “Now your top’s going to be kind of wet…but it’d be a shame to have a stain on this gorgeous dress…” I could see the gray-brown spill diluting as she dabbed and blotted. I was so close to her, I could smell her: she smelled like jasmine and vanilla, maybe something underpinning it like talcum powder, with a slight tang of salt and cigarette smoke. And here she was, casually blotting a stain on my breast. It seemed like her touch was lingering, and I was conscious that I was breathing a little faster and deeper.

Her fingers ran along the side of my right breast, caressing along the fabric of my dress. I stiffened. Was she…? She gently cupped the curve of it as if to answer my unspoken question. Yes, she was…so I relaxed against her touch, releasing my held breath. Bobbie was pleased at my reaction; I felt her hot breath against the skin of my neck, the lightest touch of her nose there as she kissed my neck softly, nuzzling against me. She kissed me more firmly there, parting her lips to graze her tongue across my skin. Every nerve ending in my body stood at full attention when she did that, and I arched my neck toward the sensation. Her hand on my tit because more insistent in its caress, she thumbed my stiffening nipple before slipping her fingers under the top of my dress and bra. Her touch was hot against my skin; the gentle caresses became more aggressive. I inclined my head toward where she nibbled my neck; she raised her mouth so our lips met in a soft deep hot kiss.

She was working on the side zipper of my dress with the hand not fondling my breast when a knock on the door made us both jump.

“Be out in just a minute!” She trilled sweetly. I had to stifle laughter. She pulled her hand free, and then pulled me close into a deeper harder kiss. She took my hand and guided it under the skirt of her dress to her pussy, pressing my hand against the silky wet panties. Wet? They were soaking. I could tell her pussy was waxed or shaved like my own, and I could feel the hot bump of her engorged clit between puffy labia. I slid my finger under the elastic and rubbed the hot wet slit, my own pussy responding in kind when my effort was rewarded with a little pussy juice. I pulled my finger back out and brought it up to my mouth, sucking the tart sweetness from my fingertip. We kissed again, and arranged ourselves into innocence, ready to cede the bathroom to whomever needed it.

“You know…my house is only down the block. Would you want…do you…”

I kissed her neck. “Yes.” No doubt!

Our hosts were busy, so with a few waves and “see ya”s we were out the door pretty quick. And down the block almost as quickly, giggling like girls as we bantered and touched each other under the lemon light of the streetlamps. She wrapped her arm around me and rubbed my hip as she unlocked the door, remarking, “I have a housemate, but she’s out at her boyfriend’s for the night. Even if she comes back, it’s cool.” She kicked the door closed behind us and pulled me to her, our mouths finding each other, her hand groping my ass through my skirt. She moaned when I pulled my mouth down and nibble-kissed her cheek, her ear, her neck. I wanted to get her breasts out of that green dress so I could play with them, so I moved my hand on her back from her waist to the top of the dress, finding the zipper and tugging it down gently. As the top came undone, I pushed one of the shoulder straps with it, exposing a beautiful big round breast encased in lacy pink bra cup, like a delicious dessert displayed in a frilly pastry cup. It was so beautiful and succulent; I eased the bra strap off her shoulder and slipped her tit out, giving it a closer look. Very large and plump, round with just the smallest bit of sag, the nipple like a pebble on large pale areola. This was the one with the rose tattoo; it was better work than usual, and it only added to the prettiness of her breast, really. I lowered my head, filling my mouth with the taste of her jasmine-and-vanilla scent and all of that areola, sucking hard. I was enraptured by this simple act, thinking about how sweet her pussy was also going to taste. Still sucking, I reached up and pulled the other strap down to free the other tit. She cupped the breast in her hand, pretty, pale and wobbly, offering the nipple to me, so I transferred my oral attention, while gently pinching and toying with the other tit.

She moaned loudly as I sucked and squeezed, stroking my hair. Then she stopped me with a finger under my chin, raising my mouth to hers for another long deep kiss. Bobbie pushed my skirt up roughly, hooked a finger in the side strap of my underpants, and tugged firmly at them.

“Let’s get these off now,” she said. I pulled them down and stepped out of them. She stopped me when I started to unzip my dress (I noticed totally irrelevantly that the stain was gone and the dress was dry.)

“Leave it on for now. Get on the sofa, baby.” I sat; she gestured, her dress and bra still half-pulled down, sweet pale breasts begging for more attention. “No, sit up on the back. Come on — up.” I moved to sit on the back of the sofa, my back against the wall, legs apart and feet — still in shoes — on the seat of the sofa. She climbed onto the sofa, kneeling between my parted legs, stroking the skin and kissing my thighs with gentle pecks as she pushed my skirt up further until my bare, wet pussy was exposed, slick lips splayed open in anticipation, clit swollen. Then I felt her hot breath as she leaned in to kiss my cunt.

At first she was gentle, nibbling my outer lips and running her tongue along the creases and folds of my inner lips and cunt opening, pushing her tongue gently into the hole, making me moan and get even wetter. I felt like I could come any second with all that gentle lapping and exploration going on. She sensed I was close, and pulled back a little.

“Please, please keep eating my pussy,” I asked, stroking her hair. She grinned up at me, her chin already slick, and licked her lips. Then she pushed my outer labia apart roughly with one hand and plunged two fingers of the other straight into my juicy cooze, eliciting a long gasp as the fingertips wriggled their way to the g-spot. She bent down and drew my engorged clit into her mouth hard, beating it with her flicking tongue as her lips sucked on the hood. She was really sucking my clit, working fast and hard to make me come, fingers pumping into and out of my hole, the stimulation of the spot inside me making my thighs shake.

Sucked so relentlessly, my clit betrayed me before my g-spot could, and I wrapped my fingers deeper into her hair, keeping her in place as I came against her sweet hot mouth, cresting each wave of pleasure against her probing tongue. She locked her arms around my thighs and changed from sucking to licking my clit hard as I was coming; it was becoming too much sensation, but she only relented when I squirmed away from her tongue, laughing and gasping as I did.

“Wow…” I started, when I could catch enough breath. “Oh my…that was fast. And…hard. Wow.” She chuckled, her mouth pressed against the flesh of my inner thigh, sending post-orgasmic twinges and shivers through my cunt. She licked my thigh and moved her mouth back to my sopping-wet pussy, poking my clit with her tongue. I couldn’t help it — I squealed. “Easy on that!”

Her response was to wriggle that hard little tongue-tip on my clit, making me squirm and wriggle. “God your pussy tastes so good,” she murmured, then kissed it again for good measure before releasing me. She pulled away and took my hands in each of hers. She was so pretty, sitting there in the half-light, the white-blonde hair gleaming and mussed from my hands, her lips puffy from all the oral work, and slick with my juice. Her dress was still half-off, the full ripe breasts spilling out over the disheveled pink lace of her bra cups. She tugged my hands.

“Been wanting to do that since I first saw you tonight,” Bobbie said. “Now let’s go downstairs where there’s more room to play, O.K.?”

“Downstairs” proved to be a fully-finished basement, fitted out during the 70′s but updated recently.

“This your section of the house?” I asked.

“Nah, my room’s upstairs. Down here is the play area…” She pushed open one door and flicked on a lightswitch. “This we use as the guest room, or…the play room, for the very lucky guests.” She swatted my ass as I went in. It was cute and comfy, done in a kind of funky boho thing with shades of purple, orange, and pink, lots of cushions and pillows everywhere, and a large low futon with an impossibly-cushy-looking mattress made up in white and hot pink. Two walls — one at the head of the bed one on the side — held large mirrors, positioned on the wall so they were level with the futon. The lightswitch controlled two pink-shaded lamps on a bedside table and a chest of drawers; the low pinkish lighting made the room even cozier and sexier. I wondered what the chest of drawers held, because I had a feeling it wasn’t clothes.

“Music?” Bobbie picked up a remote, hit a couple of buttons, and ’50s-era mambo danced out of small speakers. “Maybe a little too fast. What do you think?”

I started dancing in response. I dance well, even when I’m hamming it up. She watched my hips sway and raised her eyebrows. “Sweet. I’m leaving it right there, then.” She grasped my hips as I danced and moved with me, our bodies moving into a tight embrace as we danced. I swiveled my hips against her, certain I could feel the heat of her pussy through our clothing as our mouths met. Still moving to the music, I worked the zipper of her dress the rest of the way down, letting the green satin slide like water to puddle on the floor.

Along with the pink lace bra, she was also wearing a matching pink lace waist-cincher, and tiny frill-edged pink panties. That, and the black suede pumps. Nothing else, but the sumptuous expanse of fair juicy flesh, pink lace, and golden hair — all wrapped up in the scent of jasmine, vanilla, and aroused woman — was positively rapturous. “Oh, yum,” I thought. I might have said it out loud.

I lifted a breast again to my mouth, sucking hard, while she slid my zipper down and worked on untying the halter straps of my dress. It too fell to the floor.

“Let me look at you, baby,” she murmured. I stood facing her. “Ohh, my, you’re hot.” I was really glad I’d worn the good underwear tonight — an eyelet-lace white strapless bra and matching panties. I kicked off my flats while she unhooked my bra.

“Beautiful. Just beautiful,” she said. “You have the most perfect tits.” I have to admit they’re not bad at all, really; they’ve got a nice shape and are fairly big. I caught our reflection in one of the mirrors, while her lips enveloped one of my nipples. We looked good together: I was shorter, smaller, and more muscular, with dark hair and pale olive skin, but we were both curvy, and with the light lacy panties we still both wore, our differences made the tableau — her blonde head barely moving as she sucked and nibbled, my hand wandering down the curve of her back to stroke her full round ass — all the more arousing.

She traced down my belly to slide a hand over my pussy. “Oh yeah….you’re wet.”

“Of course,” I answered in the same light tone. “You just ate me good.” I did the same to her, letting my fingers explore the delicious rounded curves of her breasts, the rough texture of the lace cincher, the soft roundness of her lower belly leading me down to the silky damp panties. I gently pulled my breast from her mouth and rubbed her cunt a little harder, kneeling slightly. “My turn,” I said, slipping them off over the round soft ass. The scent of her cunt — sweet and tart, musky and floral — filled my nose and I licked my lips in anticipation as I knelt, parting her slick shell-pink folds with my fingers to reveal the darker pink inside. I made a few exploratory teasing licks at the inner labia, eliciting a happy “Ooo!” from her. I pushed the lips apart with my tongue, savoring the juices while sliding my tongue into the tight seam of her opening. “Mmm…” she said, her hand on my head. I tonguefucked her, poking my long tongue in and out of her pussy, loving the thick juices and the way her muscles pulled at my tongue, inviting it deeper. She was thrusting her hips gently, almost in time with the music.

“My clit…” she gasped. “Lick my clit.” Well, who was I to say no? Her poor button had been ignored for too long, so I flicked at it with my tongue’s tip, then took it between my lips and sucked gently. I switched back to lapping at it rhythmically, using both the tip and the flat of my tongue, while she kept up the pumping of her hips. I wanted to feel her even more, so I slipped a finger into the soft slippery hole. She was so juicy her pussy made slurping sounds as I fingerbanged her.

“Unnnh…unnh…ohh fuck, yeah…” Her fingers dug deeper into my hair as she pumped harder. “Right there, yeah…keep doing that…ohhhh…oh yeah, lick me baby…I’m gonna…ohhhhh…” She gasped as she came; I felt her pussy clamping hard around my finger with each contraction, the juices running down and coating my finger and tongue.

She gasped and shuddered as she slowed her hips’ movement and released her grasp on me. I licked all the juices from the soft skin of her pussy, cleaning her girl-come up with my tongue, sucking the stickiness from my fingers.

“Fantastic, Lula.”

“Mmm,” I agreed. “You are delicious.” I was going to ask what she wanted to do next, but she was already working on it, rummaging in the chest of drawers.

“Get on the bed on all fours, would you? I want to look at you from behind.” I was happy to do that, sticking my bottom out toward her teasingly.

She stopped rummaging. “All right! That’s nice,” She said, rubbing a hand along my ass. She used her fingers to push the cheeks apart a little; the warm wet tongue on my anus made me jump a little, but she just kissed it and moved her fingers lower to part my pussy lips and give me a rapid, hard, juicy tonguefucking. I moaned when she slipped her tongue out.

“You’re very wet still, but I’m going to use a little lube anyway, OK, baby?” I heard a jingle, and turned my head slightly to see her adjusting the straps on a harness. The dildo poking out of it was maybe eight inches, not too thick, and a frosty translucent blue, encased in a condom. But it wasn’t cock-shaped; it was rippled into a series of ball-like shapes down the length of it. She poured lube into her hand and rubbed it along the length of the dildo. “This is OK, hon?”

I grinned up at her. “Ohhh, yeah.”

“Scoot a little closer to the edge of the bed, please…” I did as she told me, and she laid a hand on my butt to steady herself as she eased the blue dildo into my vulva. It was cool and thick and I gasped as those round ripples probed my vagina, hitting every sweet spot inside as it entered further, becoming warmer as it met my inner flesh.

I leaned forward a little and grabbed a pillow to prop my elbows on as Bobbie started pumping, fucking me slow and smooth. “I’ve got a better pillow for later, baby,” she offered. “You comfortable with that for now?”

“Ohhh, mmmhmm,” I gasped, because she was fucking me so perfectly it was hard to form anything like words. And really, there wasn’t much discomfort that could distract me from the intense and immense pleasure I was experiencing.

The pleasure grew just a bit when she began to lightly and quickly rub her fingertip in circles on my clit while pumping in and out of my hole. I realized how awesome the mirrors were when I caught a glimpse of us in them: from the one at the head of the futon, I could watch her intense face, beautiful in concentration, lips parted into a pleased smile as she hammered me, her big smooth breasts over the pink lace jiggling with each thrust of her hips. From the side, I could see her soft warm belly resting on my butt, her own plump ass, defined nicely by the harness straps, jiggling like her tits with each movement. Seeing the translucent blue dildo as it disappeared into me, then reappeared, the light from one of the lamps shining through it and making it seem to glow in the mirror almost distracted me…but those cunning ridges worked such merciless magic on me I wasn’t distracted for long. I could feel a dizzying surge of pleasure building in me, and knew I was about to come hard. I shifted myself for more support from the pillow so I could press my hand against that point on my lower belly which would bring the dildo into maximum contact with my g-spot. Don’t ask me how it works; I just know it works.

And it did: I practically yelled when I came, shuddering with the sheer ecstasy of coming, my legs straightening out and shaking, my muscles clamping around the blue dildo as she kept humping; the relentless in and out on those convulsing pussy muscles prolonging the orgasm. I finally couldn’t handle any more; each movement wrung another little come out of me, it felt like, and it was becoming too much. I shook as I managed to gasp out, “Enough! Too much…” She relented, slowing to a halt, but keeping the dildo halfway in me. I leaned back onto my haunches, chest and face dropped into the pillow, feeling limp, spent, and satisfied.

She laughed, “Golly gee, what have we here? You didn’t tell me you were a squirter!” She was grinning in the mirror. And now I could feel it: everything was soaking wet. Not, “I’m aroused, my panties are wet” wet, I mean…wet. I don’t know why I hadn’t warned her that yes, I often ejaculated with that much…internal stimulation. Not always, mind you, but often. And the bed under me was soaked with it. That whole corner of the bed had a puddle soaking into the sheet! A similar small puddle was darkening the area rug on the floor by the bed where it had shot out of me, and it was dripping, actually dripping, off the dildo and harness that Bobbie was still wearing. Hell, it was all over her thighs and belly, and I could feel it trickling down my own thigh. Despite knowing she wasn’t offended and it was just clear watery girl-come, I was mortified by the mess, and how much there was of it. If you’ve ever had this happen, then you know how downright awe-inspiring the sheer volume of how much you (or your female lover) can squirt can be.

Bobbie was delighted. She knelt, her hands on my butt for support, and licked the trickling fluid from my thighs, lapping it up off my pussy with the flat of her tongue. “I am so…” lick, lick “…kind of…” lick “…jealous…” slurp “…Because I don’t get the…mmm,” tongue fuck “…Squirt, even with a hard…” lap, lap “…Come like that.”

“I don’t…always…but I should have mentioned it could…oh, fuuuck…happen. Yeah, I LOVE it when you do that!” I added, because she was tonguefucking me in earnest.

“Mmm…I know, you cream all over my mouth when I stick my tongue in your hole,” she replied, before doing it some more. It wasn’t long before I came again, and not long after that I made her come with my fingers, since I’d coaxed her into a position on the bed where I could play with her cunt while she worked her tongue into me.

We decided we needed to clean ourselves — and the equipment — up in the shower. The shower in the attached bathroom was big enough for two, or more, really, with one of those sunflower-sized shower heads. We lathered each other up, lavishing extra attention on each others’ girly bits. I squatted to lick her pussy, heedless of the water getting in my mouth and eyes. She sat back on the tiled ledge to make us more comfortable and get us out of the immediate stream, her legs splayed open and her hand on my head, coming quick and hard against my mouth. With the pretty pink lace lingerie off, her body was a bit softer and plumper, and she sat half-slumped unselfconsciously, aware she was a pretty curvy woman. Beautiful, really; the plump softness only enhanced her. I thought her perfect, even if society would have found her more desirable with a flat hard belly; she was like a delicious cream-filled dessert for me to devour and savor, as I saw fit. I toyed with one of her soft breasts while licking her slit, enjoying every purr and gasp I elicited with my touch.

It was nearly midnight when we got out of the shower, but despite the long day, the party, and the intense sexplay, neither of us was tired. She showed me what she had meant by a “better pillow for this”: she had a couple of those wedge things. I always was a little skeptical of those — were they really helpful or comfortable? But the answer to both those questions was “yes.” With her cute meaty bottom propped up on one of the wedges, I fucked her missionary style, her legs propped against my shoulders, using a larger cock-shaped dildo. This one was fitted out with a place for a bullet-type vibe at the base; the fucking and the vibrations brought us both to climax quite nicely. I gave her a little extra something when I pulled out, eating her sweet pussy to another juicy orgasm.

“You really love to eat pussy, don’t you?” She asked, reclining replete, like the old-fashioned pinup girl she could have been in another time.

I pretended to think about it. “Hmmm…I have to go with yes on that one. Your pussy, especially, I think. It’s like a juicy peach.” I pulled the condom off the dildo and started undoing the buckles of the harness. She moved so she could lie on her side, propped up on one elbow.

“I really like you, Lula.”

I smiled. “I like you, too, Bobbie. You’re great.”

“So…I’m thinking I’d like to do this some more. I mean, if you’re fine with it, we can do this all tonight and even into tomorrow. We can also just hang out, if you don’t want to…”

“I have nothing planned for tomorrow. And we can hang out together, or fuck.” Yes, the idea of fucking Bobbie all day was very, very appealing, and so was just hanging out.

She smiled, and hissed in an Evil Overlord voice: “Eeeexcellent.” Then she shifted her body a little, as if to get up. “Are you hungry at all? Do you want to raid the fridge?”

There were sodas in the minifridge in the main basement room; neither of us had realized how thirsty we’d gotten. A foray to the kitchen upstairs yielded crackers and herbed cheese, olives, French bread and honey. And a cucumber, which she wordlessly pulled from the crisper and added to the tray, along with a sharp knife and a dull one.

I was getting ideas about some of that stuff, you know…

We fed each other crackers and cheese and olives while lying naked on the downstairs futon, and talked. I’d already told her about my relationship, and that what we were doing was totally cool. She said something about having a few play partners, but nothing serious. As I was massaging her breasts, her phone dinged.

“It’s after 1 in the fucking morning, Deel,” she muttered, reaching for the phone and looking at the message.


“My roommate. Delia. Just telling me she’s with Brian for the night, but she’ll be back early to change for work, since she has to go in at noon.”

Her phone dinged again with a new message. She read it, and a sly look crossed her face. “Um. And she says she’s been a naughty girl, and needs to be disciplined.”

I removed my mouth from Bobbie’s left nipple long enough to ask, “What does that mean?”

Bobbie looked hesitant for just a moment, then smiled and rubbed my shoulder. “She’s got Brian…um, and she loves him to pieces, but he’s…vanilla.”

I nodded.

“So Delia isn’t. Truth? She really likes to get dominated. He’s not into it.”

“That doesn’t sound good for her. They’re together anyway?”

“Yeah, like I said, other than that, he’s wonderful for her. Sooo…every now and again…she wants me to, um…”

Ohhh. “…Domme for her?”

“Yes. Exactly. Nothing really hard or edgy. I’m not into that anyway. Just a little…discipline. Also, she’s pretty straight. Pretty hetero. She’s only been with me and one other girl. She likes it, but she’s really heteroflexible, not bi. Anyway, mostly what gets her off is being spanked, or serving, or being tied up. She’s very sub.”

I might be quiet, I might be a little shy, but I’m really not a sub. My heart was sinking a bit. If this is what Bobbie really was into, and maybe she was making it sound tamer than it was…

“I’m really not very submissive,” I blurted out.

“Yeah, I know!” She leaned over and kissed me, our mouths opening, my pussy getting hot from the kiss. “You’re a sweetie…but you’re not a bottom. It’s pretty easy to tell.”

“O.K., sometimes I like a little roleplay…and don’t get me wrong, I can BE submissive…but it’s not my, you know, thing. Sometimes I can be dominant, too. But it’s all play, for special occasions, not…”

“Not lifestyle. Yeah, me too. I don’t mind a little light bondage, and I like to, you know, switch. Sounds like we like the same things that way.”

I pointed at the webbing straps I’d noticed on the floor at the head of the bed earlier. “Equipment for Delia?”

She nodded. “That’s right…sometimes I use them on her, sometimes she would use them with someone else. Not since she and Brian got serious, though. He’s cool with me topping her, but that’s because he trusts me, and he knows she and I are just playing together. Also…he likes to watch sometimes. And then he fucks her after. With me watching. I don’t fuck him, though,” she shook her head. “I like some boys, but he is so not my type, even if he weren’t Delia’s one and only.” She was tracing patterns with her fingernails on my shoulder, and paused to plant light kisses along the curve of my neck. I closed my eyes.

“With Delia, what I do is mostly for her. That doesn’t mean I don’t get off on it, too…but it’s something I have really clear boundaries on.” She toyed with my nipple, then stroked the side of my hip. I parted my thighs slightly, so her hand could slide into my hot spot. She brushed my clit lightly with her fingers and I turned my head to kiss her again.

When we broke the kiss, I smiled at her. “I have an idea. Are you too tired?”

“Baby, I’m not tired. What is it?”

“Can I look in the, uh, toy chest?”

“Of course!” She rose onto her knees, pulling me up with her, nearly upsetting the tray of food. I picked it up and put it on top of the chest while she pulled a drawer open.

Dildoes and vibes of all kinds of sizes, shapes, and colors, some of them looking impossible. A pretty glass one with knobs on it. Another harness for dildoes. A Magic Wand, with attachments. A big box of condoms, three kinds of lube. Plugs for anal play. Candles…mmm…silk scarves. More straps and restraints; a leather dog collar. You know, the kind of stuff you keep around the house just in case. Just in case of a sudden attack of perversion, that is.

I took it all in, then looked up at her. “May I?”

She waved a hand like a game-show hostess. “Please. Be my guest.”

I grabbed two of the webbing-and-velcro restraints. I also grabbed a thing of lube and a couple of condoms, while I was at it. And a vibe. Then another vibe. What the heck.

She giggled. “And what do you have planned for me, young lady?”

“Why don’t you lie down, and find out.” I undid the wrist restraints, preparing to put them on her. “Would you be O.K. with a little of this?”

“Sure! I trust you.”

As I directed her, she got in a half-reclined sitting position, propped up with pillows and the wedges. Using the anchor straps and the restraints, I got her arms pinned.

She giggled again; she has the cutest giggle ever. “What are you about to doooo…”

I straddled her gently, rocking my hips so I could rub my clitoris against her skin. I pinched her nipples gently, cupping those lovely tits in each hand. Then I leaned forward and we kissed long and deep.

I pulled away and reached for the food tray. “We haven’t finished our midnight snack.” I broke the end off the loaf of French bread, opened the jar of honey, and dipped it in. “Still hungry?” I offered it to her, holding it up to her mouth to nibble. “Good?”

She swallowed, and I licked a dribble of honey from her chin. “Yummy,” she agreed.

I moved off of her, and took the jar of honey. “Stretch out a little, baby.” She did so, stretching her legs and offering me a smoother plane of soft belly. Ever so carefully, I tipped the honey jar, pouring a small stream onto one pale areola, the rose tattoo distorting a little under the lens of honey. Then I took it into my mouth, before the honey could drip off the side of her breast, sucking her honey-covered tit hard.

She sighed, and writhed a little. Knowing this was nice for her, I did the same with the other breast. I sucked on them both for a few minutes, then sat up.

“I think I’d like some of the bread with the honey,” I announced, picking up the jar again. I poured a small pool of it into the indentation of her navel. She quivered when the thick amber liquid touched her skin, but said nothing, just smiled.

I ripped off another chunk of the bread, and dipped it carefully into the little honey pool on her belly. Then I gently — mindful of the rough edges of the bread — smeared the dripping bread in little concentric circles around her navel. She sighed at the sensation, squirming in the restraints. The circles got bigger until they included the waxed pink mound of her cunt, right above the cleft. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. I bit off some of the honeyed bread.

“Yum. Pain et miel a la Bobbie.” I dipped the bread again into her navel, and repeated the process of tracing circles around the twin hills of her tits, dabbing each nipple with the bread.

“Can you prop up a little again, baby?” I’d left enough slack to the restraints that she was able to scootch back up into a semi-sitting position. Once she was comfortable, I offered her the bread. She chewed greedily, licking my fingers.

“Now I’m all sticky,” she announced.

“Well, I’m going to have to do something about that, won’t I?” I answered, moving my lips toward her belly. I licked a swath of honey-smeared skin; she gasped. I licked again, lapping in the same light circles I’d used to brush her with the honey-bread. The taste of honey, mixed with the taste of Bobbie’s soft skin, was truly remarkable. I could feel my pussy getting hotter and wetter as I lapped at her skin; I felt the walls of my vagina contract as I made my way to her breast. I had skipped the lowest part where I’d dipped the honey, saving that for last. After I’d licked, nipped, and kissed her breasts, I swirled my tongue into the little pit of her navel, cleaning up the honey. Then I moved to the best part, lapping at her pubis, admiring the way the lips were flushed bright pink with arousal, and her clit was poking out.

Bobbie was moaning and writhing a little. “Ohhh, please…?”

I chuckled against her skin, lapping at the crease where her abdomen met her leg. “Shh, I’m getting there…”

I couldn’t take the tease any longer, myself. I got down between her legs, hoisting her thighs onto my shoulders, and lowered my mouth toward her cunt. I blew hot breath onto that waiting exposed clit, then bent my arm around so I could part the lips. I bent in and licked, tenderly at first, then harder, sucking her clit, lapping at it, nibbling the inner lips. I gently peeled the hood back more fully and lapped at the little bubblegum-pink button, letting my fingers slide deep into her. She started bucking against my face, not quite saying words, her face now as flushed as her pussy. Her creamy fluids oozed onto my fingers as she came.

“My turn,” I said, in as normal a voice as I could muster. I climbed up, positioning myself so I was squatting over her face, holding my pussy lips open, lowering my wet cunt onto her tongue. She ate my pussy as greedily as she had the bread. I humped her face harder than I had, not wanting to extend it but just to get off.

“Yeah, that’s it baby, eat my pussy good…yeah suck it, baby…”

I groaned when my release came, telling her to lick me clean. She needed no encouragement, really.

I dismounted and reached over to grab the cucumber, slipping a condom onto it (you know, for sanitary reasons. I know the thing was organic, but still). I also grabbed the vibe. Then I thought about it a little more, and grabbed a second vibe.

Positioning myself once more between her legs, I held up the cuke. “I think this might work on you.”

“Oh, yes. Please!”

I took one of the little vibrators and began using it on her clit and lips. Her cunt was very wet already, naturally, but I worked first one finger, then two, into it, letting her enjoy the sensation of being filled. I slipped a third in, easily, working my hand to pleasure her. When she was really worked up, I pulled my fingers out, and gently pressed the narrower end of the cucumber against the wet opening. The first inch or so slid in so quickly I had to hold back not to penetrate her fully. Letting her get used to having the big green thing inside her, I kept the vibe on her clit.

“You like that, baby?” I asked.

“Yesss…” she sighed. “Please…more. Fuck me with it.”

“O.K., then.” I pushed gently against the cucumber, seeing her sweet cunt swallowing it readily. It wasn’t a huge cucumber, but definitely big-cock-sized, and thick. I had about 8 inches inside her, and moved it in and out gently, loving how her vagina stretched around it, the clit popping out further with each thrust. It was getting harder to keep using the vibrator on her clit while fucking her, so I replaced it with my tongue. My own pussy needed something, so I switched the other vibrator on and worked my clit with it. Really, it took some coordination to keep fucking her with the cucumber, while slurping on her clitoris and rubbing my own with a vibe. But well worth it.

She was gasping in that way I already had learned meant she was getting there, and my own orgasm was coming fast, so I worked harder, licking and thrusting faster.

“FUUUUUUUCK YEEEEEEEAH!!!” She yowled it so loud I was glad no one else was in the house; her belly muscles contracted and her pussy actually pushed the cucumber out. Seriously — her muscles just squirted it out as she came, past me and onto a pillow we’d pushed to the side. I pulled the vibe off her, as she was shaking all over.

As she was coming down, gasping like a fish on land, I stroked her skin idly with one hand while using the other to work the vibrator on my own needy pussy. The climax snuck up on me — my vaginal muscles were tensing in rhythm with the vibrations, and then abruptly, they were tensing and untensing a lot, surging into a nice juicy come. I groaned and went slack, the vibe dropping from my hand. After I could see again, I picked it up and turned it off. Then I looked at her. Delightful.

Disclaimer: This is an erotic story. You must be 18 to read this story, be able to read erotica in your community and not be offended by the contents of it. If you are not 18, live in an overly repressed community, or are easily offended, move on. This is not for you.

This story is fiction and as such is protected under the first amendment. The people referred to in this story do not behave this way in real life, this is a fantasy and any resemblance to real people or situations is merely a coincidence. Any copyrighted names, works, etc. remain property of their respective owner(s).

This story may not be redistributed.

Comments, suggestions, even criticism is welcome. You can contact me through the CONTACT tab on my profile.

Author’s Note: This is another old story, written in 2004. Back when it was still possible to like Charlie Sheen. But Charlie is not the focus of the story, Denise Richards is. So, read on if you like.

A very sincere thanks to all the authors who spend so much of their time and effort to bring these stories to us all. Your efforts are much appreciated.

And now the story -

* * * * * * * * *

“I want you to fuck me.”

I put down the pages I had been reading and looked up at the woman approaching me with a determined glint in her beautiful blue eyes, “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“You heard me.”

Well yes I had. I had heard her. Just like I had heard her say the same thing almost every single day for years now. In my fantasies that is. But in reality… no, this would be something new in my experience and I really couldn’t tell if I had actually heard it, or if it was just me daydreaming again. Besides, if Denise Richards walked up to you and told you she wanted you to fuck her wouldn’t you want to hear it over and over again?

“Yeah, I heard you, but I can’t have heard what I think I heard, so would you mind repeating it?”

She had reached the couch where I was sitting and was standing there with her hands on her hips, the determined look replaced by one of growing impatience. Slowly and clearly she repeated her statement.

“I said, I want you to fuck me.”

“Sorry, I’m still not getting it. Could you repeat it again? And this time…”

“Do you want me to slap you?”

No, that didn’t sound like nearly as much fun as the other thing. But I just couldn’t believe that Denise was being serious about this.

“Denise, come on! You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?”

“Well for one thing you’re married…”

“Fat lot of good that’s done me!”

“… and for another thing, you’re gay!”

“That didn’t stop me from marrying a guy in the first place!”

This much was true. It hadn’t stopped her. But there was a story there, and I was one of the few people around who knew it. Denise and Charlie’s marriage was one of convenience in the finest tradition of Hollywood sham marriages. Only this time it wasn’t the leading man who was gay, it was the bride. The leading man was just the biggest horn dog this side of Wilt Chamberlin. By marrying each other they had both gotten the cover of respectability, Charlie appearing to finally settle down and stop his whoring ways, and Denise throwing off the growing suspicion that she played for the home team. Plus, fringe benefit, Denise really wanted children and this had seemed like the best way to accomplish that goal. Two birds with one license. Just one problem, Charlie was never home long enough to stick it to Denise and get her pregnant.

“Which begs the question, why me? Shouldn’t you be looking for your husband?”

Even as the words were leaving my mouth I was mentally kicking myself. Denise Richards was offering to make my greatest fantasy a reality and here I was trying to talk my way out of it. Sometimes…

Denise chose to ignore my second question completely, “Why not you? You’re here…”

Talk about your ego busters.

“… you’re young, you’re reasonably good looking, you can get it up… You can get it up can’t you?”

My turn to ignore a question. A raised eyebrow and a small smirk being my only answer.

“Hmmm. Anyway, all of that is beside the point. The real reason is I’m tired of waiting and you can give me what I want.”

“A cock?”

“Don’t be vulgar. No, a baby.”

How had I not seen this coming? What other reason could a lesbian have for wanting to fuck me? In spite of all the porno movies to the contrary, all gay women really do not harbor a secret desire for a good hard rogering from every guy they encounter. No, really, they don’t. They tend not to be attracted to guys sexually, hence the whole lesbian thing. So if one does approach you and asks you to fuck her, there is probably a good reason for her to do so. Like with Denise. She really wanted a baby and she needed a guy to be the father. Needed a guy to be the father. To be the father. The father. The Father!

I looked up at Denise, the panic growing by the second as it finally dawned on me exactly what it was she was asking me to do. My original reluctance to her request, okay, demand, was now replaced by mind-numbing terror. I started to protest and she leaned over and placed a finger against my lips. Before the first words had even left my mouth she was already anticipating my objections and trying to quell my fears.

“Shh, shh shh shh. I know, I know. It’s a big responsibility. You’re not sure that you’re ready for it. And even if you are you couldn’t possibly bring a child into the world and not be a part of its life…”

Well she was certainly hitting all the bullet points. It was a big responsibility and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. And I definitely wasn’t the kind of guy who could walk away from their kid and leave it for someone else to raise as his own. But Denise had answers for all of it. I could be as involved or uninvolved as I wanted. An absentee father or father of the year, whatever I wanted to be, when I wanted to be. And also if I wanted, the child would know me as its father, not Charlie. In fact Denise even had a plan to use this to her advantage. She would leak the child’s parentage to the press and allow Charlie to sue her for divorce. It would be perfect. Charlie could go back to womanizing for a while and no one would blame him, and Denise would put another nail in the coffin of the rumors about her orientation. And she would get the baby she wanted so badly. A win-win situation for everybody.

Except for me. Maybe.

To be honest as I sat there listening to her explaining everything I was already losing track of why I would object to Denise’s proposal in the first place, so busy was I watching her as she countered my opposition.

You see, Denise is a very, very beautiful woman. Very beautiful. And before that she had been a beautiful girl, and before that a beautiful child. All the way back to her days as an infant she had been beautiful. For her whole life she had been beautiful. And she had learned a few things along the way about how that beauty could be used to influence people. Get them to do things for her, give things to her that she wanted. Especially men. Particularly horny men who desperately, and not so secretly, had wanted her from the moment they had first laid eyes on her angelic face. So when Denise wanted something, and could not get it just by the asking, she tended to resort to other tactics to achieve her goal. Tactics that had been learned over a lifetime and honed to near perfection by years of practical application getting what she wanted from Hollywood producers and other men. In other words she used her sex appeal.

Which, if I had been thinking clearly, would have been really, really funny. In an ironic sort of way. Using sex appeal to convince someone who already desires you to have sex with you. Seems kind of redundant, doesn’t it? Only I wasn’t thinking clearly, thoughts of a ready and willing Denise already pushing everything else out of my mind, so the irony of the situation was lost on me.

In my defense she wasn’t exactly playing fair here. A skilled practitioner like Denise has many ways of using her appeal, from the subtle through the flirty to the out-and-out forthright. Or, as was the case here, she could hit you with the sexual equivalent of a sledge hammer. As she was talking Denise had started to remove her skirt.

Now to a casual observer this might have appeared as if Denise was simply confident she could overcome my objections and she was just saving time, my eventual acceptance of her proposal a foregone conclusion. But if that was the case then why hadn’t she started by removing her top? Why start with the skirt?

Because Denise knew that while showing me her tits would be exciting, it wouldn’t be enough to overcome all my resistance and get me to agree to give her what she wanted. She knew I had already seen her tits. Hell, everyone with cable TV and a VCR had already seen her tits. No, Denise knew that to really wear me down and get me to simply agree to her demands she was going to have to do something that would so capture my attention there would be hardly anything left to continue fighting with. So she pulled out the big gun. Figuratively speaking of course.

From the second her fingers moved to the zipper on the side of her skirt my eyes were shifting back and forth from her gorgeous face to the hands that were now tugging at her garment. With a couple of sexy shakes of her hips the article of clothing slid to the ground and she was left standing there in just her black leather top and a thong. It was at this point that my eyes had stopped their shifting and remained firmly focused on the small swatch of fabric that was all that remained between me and nirvana. Basically I was now conducting my argument with Denise’s crotch.

Until, that is, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear and in one swift movement sent her thong to the ground to join her skirt. The discussion became far more one sided after that.

Words left me as I sat there staring at this beautiful woman’s equally beautiful vagina. It was obvious to me that she waxed. Her bush was shaped into the ever popular landing strip, albeit Denise chose to keep her rectangle a little wider than most. She also seemed to let the hair grow a little longer than the usual closely trimmed style, perhaps as a way of contrasting with her very, very bare labia. Bare and puffy and oh so lickable.

My cock entered into the dispute. It did not take my side.

Denise was still talking to me as I sat there staring at her twat, putting up less and less resistance to her arguments with every passing second. I hadn’t even noticed her removing her top and now she was standing there completely naked, asking me once again to give her what she wanted.

“So? Will you do it? Please say yes.”

What was the question? Oh right. Denise wanted me to fuck her. My biggest fantasy was coming true. One of the most beautiful women in the world was asking, no, begging, me to fuck her. But, as is frequently the case when a fantasy comes to fruition, it was happening on terms not of my choosing. There was a condition. A big, fat, fucking condition.

A noble man would have said no. A stronger man would have walked away, head held high. An honorable man would have placed his own terms and conditions on the deal before pledging to be there always for the child and its mother. A gay man would have said something funny.

I was none of those.

What I was was more turned on than I had ever been before. All rational thought was eclipsed by one overpowering all-encompassing desire. I wanted to fuck the shit out of this woman. Always had. It didn’t matter that she wanted me to be the father of her child, it didn’t matter that she was married to another man and it sure as hell didn’t matter that she was a lesbian. Nothing else mattered except that she was there and she was naked and she was willing. What more could any guy want?

I said yes.

Consequences be damned.

The words were still echoing in my mind’s ear when from somewhere in the back of my mind another thought appeared. What were the odds really of getting Denise pregnant on the first try? Slim to none I supplied in answer to my own question. I latched on to this without even knowing if it was true or not. For the first time since Denise had entered the room a smile found its way onto my face. Perhaps this could work out after all. I could make love to Denise and fulfill my fantasy, and when she didn’t get pregnant I could act disappointed and walk away. Quickly. Oh gee Denise, bad luck that. Well, these things take time you know. Speaking of which, wouldja look at how late it is. Gotta run. Say hi to Charlie and good luck with that whole getting pregnant thing. My smile grew larger.

Upon hearing my answer and seeing the smile on my face Denise clapped her hands together and proceeded to lie down on her back on the couch with her legs bent at the knees and her feet flat on the cushions, just inches away from my thigh, “Okay good. Take off your clothes!”

“What? Now? Here?”

“Yes now. I just checked and this is the perfect time for me to try and get pregnant. Why, did you have someplace better to be?”

As she was saying this Denise allowed her legs to part slightly, pressing her right leg into the back of the couch while she lowered her left foot to the floor. She had her upper body propped up on her elbows and as I watched she took both hands and started to squeeze her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples lightly, the pink nubs growing erect from the attention. My eyes moved back to the patch of fur between Denise’s legs and to the bare, puffy lips below it. Oh sweet mama.

I stood up and started to undress.

When I was fully naked I just stood where I was for a minute stroking my already hard cock and gazing at this nude goddess before me. Dear Lord what an exquisite creature she was. The hair, the face, those breasts, those legs, that twat. All perfect. She was easily the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. It probably goes without saying then that once this was over she would be the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid. I felt more blood rush to my penis.

When one minute turned into two and threatened to turn into more Denise began to get impatient, clearing her throat noisily and saying “I’m not going to be ovulating forever you know.”

It was a real effort to tear my eyes away from that incredible pussy and focus on Denise’s face. She had a half grin on her face and was regarding me with one eyebrow raised. I had heard what she said but the words hadn’t really registered with me and it must have shown so she tried again to get me going.

“Do you need some help getting started?”

Looking down to the fully erect unit I was still slowly stroking and then back up to Denise, I gave her a happy smile as I said “Apparently not. But thanks for asking.”

She rolled her eyes at that and then in some exasperation said “That’s not what I meant.”

It’s not? Then what could she… oh. Right.

I moved over to the couch and got into position between Denise’s thighs with my left knee on the cushion and my right foot remaining flat on the floor. Once in place I thought maybe I should have taken Denise up on her offer to help. Not because I didn’t know what to do, believe me I did, but because I couldn’t decide where to start. So many tasty treats were laid out before me and I wanted to sample them all at once. My fantasy might not be playing out exactly the way I imagined it, but it was happening and Denise Richards was lying there naked before me, just waiting for me to touch her. And I’d probably still be there trying to decide where to begin if Denise had not brushed her right leg against my hand.

That little touch was all that was needed to break the deadlock and get me to make my opening move. I reached out with my left hand and placed it on Denise’s right leg just above the knee. I ran it along her silky soft skin, moving upward on her thigh and stopping before I got too close to her groin. I may have wanted to sample it all but I wasn’t sure how ready Denise was for me to dive right in, so I decided to take things slow. With my left hand still on her upper thigh I repeated the action with my other hand on her left leg, once again stopping before it got too personal. I paused there for a few seconds, letting her adjust to the feel of my hands on her body and using my thumbs to lightly caress her skin and marveling at how incredibly soft it felt.

After the short delay I started to move my hands again, sending them out to her hips and up onto her stomach, skirting the pubic area completely and progressing up the blonde’s torso to her breasts. Touching Denise like this had been such a large part of my reveries for so long that it was almost impossible to believe that I was finally about to live out the dream, but all I had to do was concentrate on the feel of her flesh beneath my hands to know that this was no fantasy. I could never have imagined such smooth, flawless skin, and I have a damn good imagination for these things.

Resisting the temptation to be unduly distracted by the creamy surface beneath them, my hands traveled the last few inches and arrived at Denise’s tits, coming in under the large, firm globes and cupping them in my palms. I squeezed her flesh, softly at first and then with increasing pressure while I rubbed my thumbs across her erect nipples, my heart hammering in my chest as I knelt there, my dream turned to reality. Each time my thumb brushed against her nipple Denise closed her eyes and gasped softly until she reached up with her hands and grabbed my wrists, stilling my wandering hands and stopping the stimulation of her sensitive nubs. I guess Denise wasn’t enjoying the foreplay as much as I was.

She started to speak, then stopped to clear her throat before continuing, “Why don’t… ahem… Why don’t we get started?” her voice still a little thick with… desire?

Well well well. Maybe Denise was getting a bit more out of this than either of us expected. Either way, I had just gotten the green light. It was showtime.

Straightening up, I lowered myself until I was properly positioned between Denise’s spread legs and took my cock in my right hand and brushed it up and down along Denise’s slit, rubbing the tip against her lips in preparation for entering her at long last. After years of fantasizing and some convincing on my part the time had come for me to finally make love to Denise. I was ready.

That made one of us.

Uh oh.

Houston, we have a problem.

What to do, what to do. A smile came to my face. Oh well, if I must I must.

I moved down on the couch, starting to get into position lying between Denise’s legs. There wasn’t nearly enough room for me to lie comfortably but given what I was about to do I could not have cared less. When I was positioned as well as could be expected I wrapped my left arm around Denise’s right leg, which was still pressed against the back of the sofa, and moved my hand down so that I could use my fingers to help spread her lips. Denise had been watching me throughout all this with a curious expression, remaining quiet until she saw me start to move my face toward her muff.

“What are you doing?”

I gazed up at Denise, the puzzled look on my countenance a perfect mirror to the one she was casting at me, “Umm. You’re not… umm… completely… umm… ready. I was going to… ” I gestured with my right hand, making a small circular motion with it and then moving it back and forth between my jaw and her snatch “… umm… do something about that.”

“Oh no, no you don’t. Not that way!”

“But Denise! We need to… you know.”

“Then find another way! But not that! You’re not here to have fun you know!”

We continued staring at each other for a few moments until finally with a heavy sigh I looked away. Find another way. Find another way. What other way could I use to get Denise wet enough for me to enter her without causing her any discomfort? And then I had it.

I held up my right hand with my middle and index fingers extended, waggling them a bit as I did, and looked back to Denise with one eyebrow raised in question. She looked at my upraised digits and nodded her acceptance. I then took said fingers and brushed them lightly along Denise’s outer labia, up one side and down the other. This was by far the most intimate thing I had ever done with her up to this point and I felt a shiver of excitement run up my spine when my fingertip first made contact with her skin. I repeated the action three or four times, letting her get used to my presence between her legs before I started to work my fingers in between her lips, making my way into her opening and starting the process of getting her juiced.

When I had both fingers inside her I began to gently slide them in and out, twisting them counterclockwise then back again just a bit, no more than a quarter turn, to help her passage grow accustomed to the presence of something within it. I kept moving my hand in that simple in and out motion for a couple of minutes until I saw Denise’s fists, which had been clenched since the first touch of my fingers against her twat, loosen. With that simple lessening of the tension she had been displaying I judged it was time to step things up a bit and using the thumb of my left hand I began to softly rub the hood of her clit, adding to the stimulation she was feeling but trying not to overwhelm her. When her eyes closed and she let her head fall back to rest on the couch I knew that I was succeeding.

I could also tell that things were working out the way I wanted by the increased heat I felt as my fingers rubbed against the walls of Denise’s vagina. Of course that was to be expected, friction is what it is, and given that we were starting without even the most modest levels of lubrication an increase in temperature down there came as no surprise. It also came as no surprise that Denise was beginning to get wet, after all that was the whole point of the exercise, and after a grudging start, I could feel her pussy moistening and my fingers began to slide in and out of her box with increasing ease.

What did catch me off guard was how freaking tight her cunt was. I mean I had expected her to be tight, she was relatively young and obviously hadn’t had any children yet, but I didn’t expect her to be TIGHT. I really had to put some effort into it to get both my fingers in the blonde beauty’s vagina and every thrust of my digits up her channel was met with heavy resistance as the muscles reluctantly adjusted to the invasion and then quickly closed ranks behind me as they all but spit me out as my hand withdrew. The last time I could remember being with anyone that was this tight was with my high-school girlfriend, and she had been a virgin.

Up until that thought I hadn’t had to focus a lot of my attention on what I was doing, this wasn’t exactly rocket science here, so I had been free to muse on whatever I wanted while my hands operated mostly on autopilot. As you might expect I really hadn’t done anything more elaborate than babble to myself like the village idiot, repeating over and over ‘I’m finger-fucking Denise Richards. I’m finger-fucking Denise Richards.’ And I would have been content to continue doing that until it was time to move on to the next phase if the sudden recollection of the only virgin I’d ever been with hadn’t sprang into my head and triggered a whole new chain of thought.

Holy crap.

Was it possible?

Could Denise really still be a virgin? In the strictest sense of the word that is.

The thought floored me. If I hadn’t already been prone on the couch I would have needed to sit down to adjust to the possibility that had just presented itself to me. Holy crap.

Fortunately, as I indicated before, the sawing in and out that I had now been doing for some minutes did not require much concentration, so I was able to spend some time thinking about the likelihood that Denise had never had sex with a man while continuing in my efforts to get her ready for just that exact thing. On the one hand, she was a lesbian, and that in and of itself sort of precludes the possibility that she had screwed some guy sometime in the past. On the other hand, she was married. To a guy. And though he played the part of the merkin she had married him with the intention of getting pregnant. That would seem to suggest that it was doubtful she was untouched by the hand, or other body parts, of man. Add to that the fact that she worked in Hollywood, and much as I might love Denise and worship the ground that she walks on, I was not exactly oblivious to her lack of… skills when it came to acting. So she had to be getting her parts some other way, and for someone who looked like she did the casting couch seemed, if not the obvious choice, at least a strong possibility. On top of which, I didn’t really have any idea when Denise had come to grips with her orientation. For all I knew it had only been a few years ago and before that she could have dated any number of young men who would have leapt at the chance to get her into their bed. So where did that leave me?

I was forced to face the fact that I did not know the answer, and had no way of determining whether she was in actuality a virgin, short of asking her. But the possibility still remained, and that chance, however small it might be, that I was going to be the first guy ever to have sex with Denise was enough to make the smile on my face so wide it threatened to crack my head in half.

It had only taken me about a minute to puzzle through all that and Denise had never even noticed that most of my attention was elsewhere during that time. I looked down at my hand and to the pussy that it was gliding in and out of and with the thought still fresh in my mind that I might be the first man to ever have touched her in this way I was suddenly giddy. Even in my most fevered fantasies about Denise I had never, ever dared to imagine that I could be her first. Her best, yes. Her biggest, sure, why not? The guy who could persuade her that there were some itches only a man could scratch? Of course. It was my fantasy after all. But her first? No, that had never entered my mind. And if I was the first to touch her so intimately with my hands, and would be the first to penetrate her with my dick, then that also meant that I could be the first to get my tongue on her succulent lower lips. If the grin on my face had been any bigger they would have had to measure it in light years.

The excitement of that moment was overpowering. That is the best word I can find to describe the longing I now had to eat Denise’s pussy. Overpowering. Under the most routine circumstances I absolutely adore muff diving. It is my greatest sexual desire. Presented with the chance to go down on Denise and that yearning was increased tenfold. Multiply that by the opportunity to be the first man ever to eat Denise Richards’ snatch and my hunger was off the charts. Nothing on this earth was going to prevent me from licking that woman’s beaver. Certainly not anything as paltry as her telling me I couldn’t. I had to, absolutely had to, get my tongue in her twat. There was just no way in hell that I was going to pass this up, leaving it for some other putz who couldn’t possibly appreciate it the way I would. This wasn’t about fun, hell it had never really been about fun, this was about history. Fuck Neil Armstrong. I was going to be the first guy to eat Denise Richards. Casting a quick glance to Denise’s face and seeing that her eyes were still closed I leaned in and ran my tongue over her slit, collecting some of her newly formed cream and holding it in my mouth.

Should I bother trying to describe what Denise’s pussy juice tasted like? I don’t think I will. Or can. Not without resorting to hyperbole anyway. We all know what a healthy, sexually excited woman tastes like, or at least I think most of us do. There may be some who have not yet been exposed to that particular pleasure. Suffice to say that when describing what the sexual fluids of your greatest fantasy taste like it becomes less about the actual flavor and more about the perception of the experience. In which case I can safely say that Denise tasted better than any other woman I have ever been with, her lubrication delighting every taste bud in my mouth like none before. I would have gone back for more, much, much more, except that one brief contact of my tongue with her gash had been enough to bring Denise’s head up from its reclining position on the couch to cast a stern look my way. She knew exactly what I had done and I guess she expected the expression on her face to be enough to dissuade me from trying anything so foolish again. Silly girl. I was not so easily deterred.

A few quick rubs from my left thumb against the light-haired girl’s clit was all it took to get Denise’s eyes to close once more and her head to return to its former position. I continued the dual fingering of Denise’s clit and twat, her tunnel steadily moistening and the milky-white cream building up on my fingers and starting to run into my palm. Well if I couldn’t go to the pussy juice then the pussy juice was going to have to come to me. I removed my hand from her box and stuck my fingers in my mouth and sucked them clean.

Damn, did she taste good.

While I was busy savoring the delicate flavor of Denise, she was noticing the sudden absence of my fingers from her snatch and where I found the change to be very satisfying, my new partner was far less happy with it, “Unnh… No… Don’t stop.”

Hearing Denise beg me to continue fingering her was another unexpected pleasure. She really was enjoying this whole experience more than I had anticipated. Probably more than she had anticipated also. This was going to be good for a tease or three when all of this was over. Maybe sooner if I felt I could get away with it without risking any vital body parts. Of course, we hadn’t done anything yet that she didn’t do with her female lovers, so I guess there would be no reason for her not to enjoy it. Not that that would stop me from teasing her when the opportunity came. But all of that was beside the point, it had never been my intention to stop my digital manipulation of her muff in the first place. If I did, I would be left with no way of getting her liquids onto my tongue and my thirst for her cream was far from sated. I finished cleaning the last traces of fluid from my hand and returned my fingers back to Denise’s vagina.

This time, instead of having to fight my way into a dry, resistant canal, I was greeted by something far more accommodating, if still outrageously tight. My digits slipped back into Denise’s cunt accompanied by a satisfied sigh from the other end of the couch.

As my fingers got back to work Denise was happier but I was now back where I started. With a serious hankering to dip my tongue into her molten box. While I was contemplating how to best get what I wanted without seriously pissing off my friend and lover I noticed that Denise was really starting to respond to the near continuous stimulation she had been receiving for almost ten minutes now. Her breathing was growing shallower as the pace increased and her hips were starting to make small, rhythmic movements in time with the thrusts of my hand. Seeing Denise taking so much pleasure from my fingering only strengthened my resolve to get my tongue back into her beaver as soon as possible. In spite of the fact that she had explicitly told me she did not want me doing that to her I was confident that under the present circumstances she would not mind. I knew that if it was me in her position I’d enjoy a blowjob way, way more than a handjob, and I assumed the same was true for Denise. With that rationalization safely in hand I closed the distance between us and took a lick of the pre-orgasmic girl’s clit.

Denise’s reaction was instantaneous. Her left hand came down and smacked me on the head.

At least that’s what I thought she was doing and I tried to look up to Denise’s face to see how annoyed she was that I had ignored her earlier warnings. That’s when I realized that her hand had not left my head and was in fact now pressing my face into her crotch. I couldn’t get my head out from between her thighs. Not without some effort anyway. I was trapped in place. Heh heh. Guess I wasn’t rationalizing after all.

I was now free to indulge myself licking out the pussy of one of the hottest women in Hollywood and indulge I did. I kept on pumping my fingers in and out while I licked, partly for Denise’s pleasure and partly for my own, but I stopped using my thumb on her clit, replacing it with frequent flicks from my now very pleased tongue.

After several minutes of some serious carpet munching coupled with more constant fingering I took a quick glance up to Denise’s face to see how she was doing. Her right arm was covering her eyes and her mouth was open and I could hear the soft moans of pleasure she was making. Even as I watched the moans increased in volume and her chest started to heave while her left hand clenched in my hair and tried to press my face even further into her groin which was now raised completely off the couch. Denise’s climax had begun. This could not have worked out better if I had planned it. I had brought Denise to orgasm in large part with my tongue and now I was in the perfect position to reap the oh so wet rewards. I removed my fingers from her sopping snatch and replaced them with my tongue.

Licking and lapping and sucking at her twat I drank down as much of Denise’s orgasmic surge as I could, the lower half of my face dripping from the excess fluids that were flowing from her cunt. I would have been able to reach even more but between Denise’s hand pressed against the back of my head and her pelvis pressing up into my face my movement was somewhat restricted and I could not get to everything, try as I might. No matter. What I was able to reach was more than enough to satisfy even the most orally fixated among us.

When at long last Denise’s climax came to an end her hips settled back on the couch and she slowly let go of my hair, but her hand stayed resting lightly on the back of my head while she laid there waiting for her breathing to return to normal. While she was doing that I kept my face tucked between her thighs. I was able to move away now, the pressure on both the front and back of my head having let up, but seriously, why would I want to? I kept licking slowly at Denise’s folds, enjoying my favorite sexual act more than I ever had before.

All was serene for the next few minutes. Denise, lying quietly and basking in the afterglow of her orgasm, and me, still huddled between her legs, my tongue slowly repeating the trip from the bottom of her slit all the way up to the top time and time again as I attempted to map out every nook and cranny of her flesh and commit it to memory. Now this is what I call quality time.

Still, everything ends sooner or later, and even though it had seemed like time itself had slowed down when Denise’s climax arrived and stayed that way for long minutes afterwards, her orgasm did crest and she did eventually recover enough to lift her head from the sofa. I had been sneaking periodic looks up at her so I would know when she was stirring and I saw her move her arm away from her face and open her eyes. But I didn’t stop what I was doing. I was going to get every iota of pleasure out of this that I could.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

I paused just long enough to answer her question, “Very much.”

Her eyes closed briefly when my tongue resumed its stroking of her twat but reopened quickly and she gave me a wry smile as she said “So it would seem. Well I enjoyed it too. Thank you.”

That deserved more than just a short pause and with some regret I lifted my head away from her crotch and said “You’re welcome.”

I returned Denise’s smile and we continued to look at each other that way for a few seconds when the smile dropped from her face and she gave me a serious look and said “But don’t expect me to return the favor!”

Perish the thought.

Chuckling a bit I started to get up from my prone position on the couch while conceding Denise’s point, “Never. Hadn’t even crossed my mind… ” True enough, it hadn’t crossed my mind in the last… oh, twenty minutes or so. Before that… “… and honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to take it if you did.”

That brought the smile back to Denise’s face and with that last piece of business out of the way and one solid orgasm under our belts there was nothing left to do but move on to the reason we were there in the first place. It was time for me to fuck Denise.

Wow. I was actually going to do it, I was going to fuck Denise. After countless fantasies about it, my pipe dreams were going to become reality. That thought should have made me nervous. The few times I had allowed myself to seriously consider what I would do if, through some incredible twist of fate, I ever really did get a chance to be with Denise I had always assumed I would be nervous. So nervous I had serious doubts about whether I would even be able to perform. But here I was, fate properly twisted and my greatest hope turning to fact, and I wasn’t feeling nervous at all. And as for doubts about being able to perform, well all I had to do was look down at the fully erect member I was once again stroking lightly and any qualms were immediately dispersed. Weird.

When I was on my knees on the couch I stopped and with an eyebrow raised in question I looked to Denise and asked “Shall we?”

Her right hand went up to her mouth and she pulled a bit at her lip, her nervousness now that we were really about to get down to business apparent. Again I was struck by the idea that maybe, just maybe, this was Denise’s first time with a guy, and I was going to say something, anything, to calm her down, when she spoke up instead.

“Ummm… Would it be okay, I mean would you mind…”


With a rush she finished the rest of her sentence, “Would it be all right if we didn’t do this lying down?”

Not lying down? Did Denise want to be on top? Figures. Lesbians. Always have to be in control. Unless… maybe she wanted to do it standing up? Not the kinkiest way I’ve ever done it but not exactly what I would call a beginner’s position either.

“Yeah, sure, no problem. We can do this any way you want to. But Denise, if you’re worried I’ll be… ummm… what I mean is, I’ll be gentle.”

All nervousness disappeared and Denise had to struggle not to laugh when she replied “Screw gentle. I just want you to be quick.”

The puzzlement I was feeling must have shown in my expression because Denise quickly continued, explaining her real concerns at last, “Look, no offense, but I just don’t want to do this face to face, okay? It’ll feel too weird. All right?”

“Of course. Like I said, any way you want. So what did you have in mind instead? Doggy?”

Denise’s head sprang up at that and with some eagerness she said “Perfect!”

Works for me.

I got off the couch and stood up while Denise got into position with her arms resting on the cushioned back. Moving into place behind her I put my hand on her back and pressed lightly, getting her to lower her back some and raise her ass just a bit more so I could enter her without having to bend my knees. Before penetrating her I made one final check with my fingertips, just to verify that Denise was still ready. Oh yeah. She was ready. Still, it never hurts to take precautions. Go the extra mile as it were. With a devilish smile I bent over and jammed my tongue back into Denise’s conveniently placed pussy.


Sweet gooey goodness. Denise rocked forward a bit under my assault but did nothing to stop me as I spent a short time licking her lips and running the tip of my tongue lightly over her clit. I didn’t stay down there long, I didn’t want to test her patience too much, and when I finally did straighten back up, impish smile still in place, I saw Denise gazing back over her shoulder at me with a semi-tolerant look.


For someone who only a very short time ago had been adamantly against me getting anywhere near her with my mouth she was certainly being lenient. Oh well, there’d be time to think about that later. For now I had slightly more important things to consider. My smile broadened and I shrugged happily in response.

“We can start then?”

“Yeah, we can start. If you’re ready that is.”

“Am I ready. What do you think?”

Appearing to consider the question for a moment I tilted my head and tried to look thoughtful, then with a quick grin I said “I’m not sure. I’d better double check.” then started to bend back over for another go at Denise’s snatch.

With a laugh she twisted away from me saying “Oh no you don’t. Get back up here!”

Joining in her laughter I straightened back up and waited for Denise to resume her position. She stayed where she was for a few seconds and then with a doubtful look she moved back into place. It was obvious that she didn’t quite trust that I was done fooling around. I considered teasing her some more with a quick faint down towards her ass but I decided it was probably best not to push her. Denise was enjoying herself a lot more than I thought she would and I didn’t want to ruin that by ticking her off.

Playtime over for the time being, I moved in behind Denise and prepared to get busy. I lined myself up with her opening and took hold of my shaft behind the head, pressing the glans in between her labia and starting to penetrate into Denise’s vagina. She was reasonably wet, my brief stint licking her slit had been of some use after all, and while she was still incredibly tight, with constant pressure I was able to make steady progress sinking my dick into that amazing pussy. Of course it probably helped that I was more erect at that moment than I could ever remember being before. And that includes the day I found my older brother’s stash of Playboys and saw the hidden treasures that lay beneath a woman’s skirt for the very first time. That is, until my best friend Bobby pointed out that this was what all women looked like underneath their clothing, even the nuns at school. That was a bit of a buzzkill, let me tell you.

But not even the thought of Sister Mary Very Catholic sans habit could have done anything to lessen the excitement of the moment when I first pierced Denise’s folds.

When she first felt my cock start to part her lips Denise tried to move away just a bit, a small “Ow.” escaping before she stopped and held herself still. She reached back with her left hand and placed it on my thigh, pressing it against me and using it to control the speed at which I entered her. She closed her eyes as I continued sliding into her cunt, leaving them screwed shut until I finally stopped moving, my full length now embedded within her. We both let out our breaths when I was fully seated, which really surprised me since I hadn’t even realized I was holding mine, and each of us took the opportunity to adjust to the situation. While my prick was slipping into place the smile that had taken up near permanent residence on my face since I had first agreed to do this had temporarily disappeared, replaced by a more… focused look. Now that I no longer needed to focus quite so hard the smile could return to my lips. I looked down to the penis that was mostly obscured by the twat of the most beautiful woman I had ever been with and grinned the biggest, cheesiest, shit-eatingest grin ever achieved by man. And we hadn’t even really started yet.

I waited until Denise signaled that she was ready for us to continue before I started to withdraw my cock. While I waited I reveled in the feel of those tight, slick walls that surrounded my shaft. I could still feel the heat of Denise’s channel, but it was not as apparent as when I had my fingers in her, most likely due to the fact that there was more than a fair amount of heat radiating from my member, so engorged with blood was it. When Denise removed her hand and returned it to the sofa back she turned her head to face me and gave me a little nod as I gradually started to back out, resisting the urge to simply pull out and plunge back in. I did this for two reasons. First, I didn’t want to cause Denise any discomfort as she was still adjusting to my presence inside her, and second, I was not entirely sure that if I did that I wouldn’t end up cumming prematurely. Very prematurely. So I eased my way out of Denise, stopping when I was about three-quarters of the way out and pausing for a brief second before reversing direction and just as slowly easing my way back in. Damn that felt good.

And, in spite of the fact that it did indeed feel very, very good to have my dick slide in and out of Denise’s snatch, I felt very little yearning to cum. Which is a very good thing. Surprising, considering the circumstances, but very good. I had desired Denise for so long, and was so turned on at that moment that I would almost have bet that I could not possibly hold out for more than a couple or three minutes. And that even going that long would be a struggle as I fought off the impulse to cum from almost the very first stroke. But it wasn’t like that at all. I guess it’s possible to be so excited that physically, you can’t cum. If that even makes any sense.

Whatever the cause, the fact was that as I pumped my rod in and out of Denise, slowly at first, then building up to a moderate pace, I felt in complete control. I liked that. A lot. If this was going to be a once in a lifetime shot for me then I wanted to take my time and enjoy it to the fullest. Not having to fight off my orgasm every step of the way went a long way to making that possible. And I wanted Denise to enjoy it also, lesbian tendencies not withstanding. Again, not having to worry that it would all be over in a few minutes meant I could focus more on her pleasure, not on baseball statistics or some other marginally successful trick to delay my climax.

In the beginning I kept both my hands on Denise’s beautiful ass, occasionally squeezing her cheeks but mostly just running my hands over her skin, happy just to be in a situation where I could do it without getting slapped. After a few minutes I felt Denise relax enough to enjoy what we were doing so I moved my right hand onto her back and began to caress the soft flesh there. I kept my pace fixed for some minutes more, feeling the steady increase in heat as the friction built up and hearing the liquids being moved about, then stepped things up a notch, trying to keep my strokes the same length, but making them faster. Denise responded to the change with a low moan of pleasure.


Hearing Denise react in such a positive manner gave me an idea. Maybe she’d like it even more if she were a less passive participant. I moved both my hands onto her hips and began to move her body in the opposite direction as I drove my cock inside her. It took only a couple of thrusts before she caught on and started to move on her own, rocking forward as I withdrew and slamming back to meet me on the downstroke. She even took things a step further without any coaching from me. At one point, as sometimes happens, one of us moved out of step with the other and we broke our stride, so I came to a full stop, intending to recover and pick up where we left off. But Denise did not stop, still on her knees and with her arms braced on the back of the couch she changed her movement from a rocking back and forth to a bouncing of her hips up and down on my suddenly motionless cock. I let out my own cry of delight.

“Oh FUCK!”

That got a big smile from Denise and she watched me react in pleasure from over her shoulder, her blonde hair mostly hanging off to her left side, except for a few strands that hung down in front of her face, causing her to try to blow them away repeatedly. She continued to bounce on my prick for a few more seconds until I started moving again and she morphed seamlessly back into a rocking motion. She might be a lesbian but she was a natural at riding a pole.

Things were going well, quite well in fact, so I decided to continue on in our current position for a while longer. I was enjoying it immensely, Denise appeared to be getting a lot of pleasure out of it also, and I still wasn’t feeling those first faint signals of impending climax. Yet. Of course it was only a matter of time. I had a few ideas about how I could delay that time for at least a little while, but I wasn’t ready to start using any of them right at that point. Meanwhile, with my hands no longer needed to guide Denise’s hips I was able to reach under her body and spend some time playing with her incredible tits some more. But only for a short period. I didn’t want a pair of boobs to be the thing that set me off.

Denise and I continued fucking doggy style for another five or six minutes and as the time passed I realized that we were starting to pick up steam faster than I really wanted to. Controlling the pace and not letting myself get carried away by the sensations was a big part of my overall plan to postpone my gratification. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one with something to say about how, and how fast, these things progressed, and Denise and I were of two minds when it came to how quickly we wanted this all to end.

At least, that’s what Denise wanted me to believe. Given her responses over the last fifteen minutes or so I was starting to have serious doubts about her sincerity in the matter.

Still, sincere or not in her desire to conclude our coupling quickly, it was Denise who was increasing the pace of our combined strokes beyond the level I was ready for and it was having an impact on me. I started to feel the first signs that my orgasm was not that far off. Time for delaying tactic number one.

“Denise… unnhh… let’s… oh fuck that feels good… let’s change position!”

“Whaa? No. Can’t we… ooh… stay like this for a couple more minutes?”

Stay like this? Did Denise know that she was having an effect on me? That I was starting to feel the urge to cum?

I followed that thought through, giving as much of my concentration as I could spare from the actual fucking to consider the possibility that Denise knew I was getting close. Sure it was possible, but how could she know how close I was? Or wasn’t for that matter. I hadn’t yet let on that I was getting there, I was sure of it. Then how…

“Oh God! Oh God!”

Son of a bitch. Of course. It wasn’t me who Denise realized was close to cumming. It was her. Okay. I had a choice to make. I could continue on for however much longer it might take for Denise to cum again, risking the arrival of my own climax in the meantime, or I could go ahead with my plan and change our positions. It was then that Denise started to combine our standard in and out motion with the bouncing movement she had employed earlier, the result being a sort of circular action that brought yet another loud groan of pleasure to my lips.


That settled it. This woman was just too damn good. On Denise’s next forward movement I backed away farther than usual and my cock fell out of her vagina. I took a step back from the couch.

“Hey!! What are you doing? I was just about to…”

She let her sentence trail off. Of course I already knew what she was just about to, but I was curious to see if she would admit that she was upset I had stopped because she was getting ready to cum again.

“Yes? You were just about to what?”

“Ummm… Nothing. Never mind. You wanted to change position?”

Oh you are so busted. I considered pursuing the matter with Denise. Try to get her to admit that she was disappointed I had stopped just when she was getting ready to cum, but I decided not to. Not that I was going to let it drop, oh no. I would just table it for a while and take it back up when I could get the most mileage out of it. I never let the opportunity for a good tease go wasted. Besides, there was some good fucking to get back to.

“Uh yeah. Why don’t you drive for a while?”

That got her attention, “Drive? What do you… You mean I should get on top?”

“Yeah. I’ll sit down and you straddle me and take it from there. Sound good?”

“Cowgirl or reverse?”

I smiled at the question. This woman was no shrinking violet that’s for sure. Obviously, even if she had never been with a man before, she knew her way around a strap-on. I wonder, if I asked nicely enough, maybe she’d illustrate her proficiency for me some day in the future. Maybe I could even videotape it. She liked being in front of the camera after all. A small shiver of pleasure went up my back as I thought of possible partners for Denise to demonstrate with.

“Hello? Which way?”

Oh right, cowgirl or reverse, “Your pick. If we don’t like it we can switch again, okay?”

She nodded her acceptance and I moved over to the couch and took a seat slumped down so that my ass was at the edge of the cushion, half on and half off the pillowed seat. This would allow Denise to straddle me facing or away with equal ease without having to struggle to maintain her balance. I assumed she would choose reverse because of her earlier reluctance to screw facing me but she surprised me when she got up on the couch on her knees and straddled my waist in the cowgirl position. Guess it wasn’t as bad to face me if she was on top. That’s okay. At least this way I’d be able to fondle her tits while she did most of the work.

Denise shocked me again when she reached back and grabbed my dick in her left hand, placing my glans at the opening to her snatch before slowly lowering herself on my shaft. I experienced another small shudder of delight at the touch. I had expected to conclude the entire encounter without ever feeling Denise’s hand on my penis, but she appeared to have no problem touching it, even going so far as to leave her hand in place with the palm open so it rubbed lightly against my balls as she moved up and down. She’s a natural I tell ya.

We stayed like this for a very short time until Denise got used to the position and to the range of motion available to her. When she was comfortable she moved her left hand up to join the right on the sofa back, one hand on either side of my head, while she proceeded to bounce vigorously up and down on my cock. I watched her face as she moved, watching the changes as she went from smiling broadly through that look that could almost be described as pained, the one where the eyes are closed or very nearly so and the face is scrunched up from the pleasure, to ecstatic and back again. Her face never stayed with one expression on it for too long, each feeling in her body showing up on it only to be rapidly replaced as some new sensation worked its way through her.

Showing me yet again that she really was highly skilled at fucking, Denise took advantage of our current arrangement to recreate the pattern she was using just before we changed positions, only this time she added another twist. Instead of bouncing straight up and down she started to move her hips back as she lowered herself on my pole. Then she would shift forward on the upstroke, again achieving a sort of circular pattern as a result. She started off doing this slowly but in very short order she had picked up speed, lowering herself at a reasonable pace and then when she reached the bottom of her stroke she snapped her hips forward before raising herself off me to start it all over again. Of course she was only moving a matter of inches in any one direction but the overall feeling made it seem as if she was traveling several feet along my cock. This feeling was further intensified when she started to squeeze her pussy muscles around my dick on every upstroke, making the already tight fit feel like a vise around my rod. A hot, wet, velvet lined vise.

This continued on for hours. No, not really, but it felt like we went at it this way for hours, the pleasure mounting steadily until I was certain I could take no more and would have to cum regardless if I was ready for it to be over or not. Cum, or burst into flames spontaneously, those really seemed to be the only two choices open to me at the time. ‘Cause I was pretty sure that nothing short of either of those was going to get Denise to stop what she was doing this time, and even if by some small miracle I did get her to agree to another position change it would only delay the inevitable for a short time. My orgasm was coming and there was nothing I could do to stop it. And then, just when I had resigned myself to that pleasant fate, Denise broke her stride and suddenly she was taking less controlled strokes on my member and more convulsive ones until on one of the upstrokes she lifted completely off me and her head whipped back and she started to let out a strangled scream while her entire body quaked, her second orgasm of the day having arrived with little warning.


Now just because my prick had slipped out of Denise when her orgasm struck it did not mean I was in the clear. I still had to fight not to climax myself, the urge having become almost too strong to stop, but I kept telling myself I was nowhere near ready for this all to be over, and, even more importantly, if I came while my cock was no longer inside Denise she would kill me. If she ever stopped cumming that is. I concentrated on beating back the desire and waited for Denise to climb down from her orgasmic heights. It was a pretty long wait.

As the tremors subsided Denise lifted her head back up and brought it forward to rest on the back of the couch to my left. Her body was pressed into mine and I could feel her chest rising and falling as she worked to get her breathing back to a more normal pace, her nipples dragging across my skin with each lungful of air she drew in. I sat there quietly with my hands on her hips, just like they had been since she first mounted me, and waited for her to stir. Well I was mostly sitting there quietly, but the temptation to turn my head just a bit and kiss Denise on her neck was too much to resist. I brought my hands up to clasp her back and pull her even closer to me while I moved my lips onto the crook of her shoulder and placed several small kisses there. I felt, as well as heard, Denise sigh in contentment.

When she finally did pull away she moved the hair back from her face and gave me a happy smile. I would swear I could almost see the afterglow of her orgasm hanging about her like a halo, so satisfied was her expression. And I had put that there. I answered her satisfied look with one of my own. Well, not exactly satisfied, more like smugly pleased. With some justification I might add. After all, she had already cum twice so far and we weren’t done yet. There was still a climax in my future that needed to be seen to and given how things had been going that might mean there was another one waiting in the wings for her. Speaking of my climax, seems I wasn’t the only one keeping their eye on that prize.

“We should finish this off don’t you think?”

She was right. It was probably time. As much as I might like to make this last well into the night I knew I couldn’t, and not just because we both had other responsibilities that would prevent us. I was also reaching the end of my fuse and if the next few minutes were anything like the last few I would be experiencing my own mini-explosion in short order. Ah well, everything must come to an end sooner or later.

Changing my smile into something less self-satisfied and more natural I met Denise’s eyes and agreed, “Yeah, I suppose we should. But let’s try another position okay?”

Denise chuckled at the suggestion, “Okay, but if it’s as good as the last one I don’t know if I’ll have any energy left to close with.”

Laughing along with her I replied “Don’t you worry about that. I’ve never needed any help finishing before, I think I’ll manage this time. Now why don’t you turn around and we’ll give reverse cowgirl a try okay?”


Swinging her leg over me Denise turned around and placed both feet on the ground on the outside of my own. She then bent forward a bit and reached down between her legs taking hold of my unit once more and lining us up before sinking down on my shaft. When she bottomed out she leaned back and moved her hands back to rest on my chest, supporting her upper body and giving her the freedom she needed to begin moving.

For my part this new position was perfect because I could make up for the missed opportunity from before and wrap my hands around Denise’s body to paw at her tits, something I proceeded to do with great zest. Denise was laughing while I was doing this and she kept trying to swat my hands away but she could only use one hand, the other being needed to hold her up. Eventually she tried doing too many things at once and with a short yelp she fell back against my chest and I draped one arm across the front of her shoulders, trapping her against me, while I used my free hand to caress her breasts at will. With unexpected good humor, Denise conceded that battle and stayed pressed against me, working the situation to her advantage by bringing her feet up flat on the couch so we could continue to fuck unabated.


Now this I liked. A lot. A whole lotta lot. With her feet flat on the cushion Denise had the opening to move almost as much as when she was riding me cowgirl, and what maneuverability she might have lost by leaning against me, I could have made up for by lifting my hips up and meeting her stroke for stroke. So we could have been going at it like demons if we wanted to. But we weren’t.

When Denise fell back into my arms she landed with her head on my left shoulder and we turned to look at each other even as she continued her motion on top of me. Our faces were only inches apart, and as I thought about Denise’s initial reluctance to even start if we were facing each other a smile came to my lips, instantly mirrored on her own. She reached up with her right hand and placed it on my right cheek, slowly stroking my skin, and in time the pace of her hand came to resemble the strokes of my cock as her hips rose and fell around me. I added my own motion to the mix, the combined strokes becoming longer as a result but still at the same slow, slow rate. I could see the pleasure written on Denise’s face with each thrust, her eyes now closed and her mouth open as she started to moan with every breath.

“Unh… unh… unh… oh… oh… oh!… oh!… Oh!… Oh!…”

I had to close my own eyes as well. Not so I could moan, although I probably could have done some of that if I wanted to, but to reduce the amount of sensory overload I was experiencing. I was receiving such intense pleasure from my groin, each stroke absolutely perfect in its delivery, that I did not want anything else to distract me, and at that particular moment sight was the least valuable of my senses. Instead I wanted to focus on the feel of Denise’s skin under my hands and along the length of my body. To feel the light coating of sweat that our exertions had put there, the increase in temperature as her skin flushed. To hear, really hear, the pleasure in each and every moan, each one a testament to how much ecstasy she was feeling at that moment. And of course to enjoy the sex. Above all I wanted to enjoy every second of this while it lasted.

Again time seemed to slow down for us and what could only have been minutes felt like much, much longer. And usually it’s exactly the opposite, the whole thing ending way too soon, but not this time and for that I am extremely thankful. This time, we moved that way for what seemed like forever, unchanging, unvarying, everything just ideal. And then, just as I was starting to sense my own orgasm approaching, Denise came for the third time. Nothing anywhere near as powerful as her last one, or even her first, just a quiet culmination signified only by her eyes screwing even more tightly shut as she ducked her head down and pressed it into my neck and her soft moans became one continuous cry of pleasure.

“Oh!… Oh!… Oh!… mmmm… mmmm… mmmm… mmmm… Unnnnhhhhhhhhhhh!!”

And then it was over. Only this time, unlike the last two, we didn’t even stop moving and when she opened her eyes and lifted her head to face me once more the only acknowledgement she made to the climax was to resume her soft petting of my cheek with her right hand.

Not that I was in any position to make a fuss about it anyway. I was too busy preparing for the arrival of my own slice of bliss.

“Denise, I…”

“Put me on my back. Hurry!”

Pushy little thing isn’t she? And lucky too. How she thought that I still possessed enough awareness to do what she said, and not just get lost in the desire to achieve blastoff, I’ll never figure out. But I did, barely. So I slid her off my lap and onto her back on the couch and quickly moved into place in between her upraised legs and started pistoning in and out.

Denise wrapped her legs around my back and her hands behind my neck, using them to pull me down to her, until my face was once again only inches from hers. We locked eyes as I plunged into her, the end now mere seconds away. Damn I wanted to kiss her! We were so close, and she looked so beautiful, and I knew I’d probably never have this opportunity again… I closed the remaining distance between us and pressed my lips to hers. She kissed me back.

I came.

I’ve never been very vocal during orgasm, preferring instead to save my energy to twist my face into all sorts of ridiculous shapes while my spine tries to push its way through my stomach, and this time was no exception. The arching of my back pulled me away from Denise, breaking our kiss, but I hardly noticed, my concentration at the time reserved for other, slightly more important things. No matter, the kiss had been perfect. Any longer and Denise probably would have started to feel uncomfortable. I started to finish that thought as had been my custom throughout that day, about her being a lesbian and all, but I was beginning to have my doubts about how committed she really was to that lifestyle. Okay, wrong choice of words. I know it’s not a ‘lifestyle’. You can’t choose to be gay, you either are or you aren’t, it’s the way you were born. But, seriously, just how gay can you be if you screw a member of the opposite sex and enjoy it as much as Denise had?

Whatever. Denise’s orientation or confusion therein was not the topic at hand. Our just completed coitus was.

It didn’t take me anywhere near as long to finish cumming as it had Denise the first two times, more’s the pity, but that doesn’t mean I found it any less intense than she had. Possibly more, since for me this was the very successful conclusion to a fantasy that I had always held as the remotest of possibilities. And now it was over, fantasy no more but a very real, immensely pleasurable, thoroughly satisfying fact. I opened my eyes and looked down to see Denise watching me, the smile on her lips turning into a giggle when she saw me gazing at her.


“Nothing. It’s just…” She looked away and giggled again then looked back at me as she finished “… you make the silliest expressions when you cum!”

Oh that. So she noticed. Oh well, it was true. Nothing I could do about that now. I gave her a sheepish grin and her wide smile softened a bit and she reached up with a hand to cup my cheek.

“Thank you. Really, thank you so much for doing this for me. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you.”

I didn’t say anything in response. There was nothing to say. This either would or would not work, and if it did, well she was right. How do you repay someone for a favor like this? Give them a kidney? And if it didn’t work… I didn’t want to think about that right at that moment. So I said nothing, choosing instead to yield to the pressure of Denise’s hand on the back of my neck and lowering my lips to hers to share another sweet kiss.

When the kiss ended I exhaled sharply and collapsed on top of Denise, burying my face in the cushion between her head and the sofa back and just staying like that for some time. Her legs were still up in the air and she put her hands back around my neck, idly stroking the hair on the back of my head while we both took the time to recover and think about what we had just done.


“Denise? What the hell is going on here?”

“Hello Charlie.”

Charlie? Oh fuck!

“What are you doing! Why are you… Did you just have sex with him?”

“Yes Charlie, I did. I found someone who will give me what I want. I’m tired of waiting Charlie! Tired of waiting for you to put it back in your pants long enough to come home and get me pregnant! So I found someone to do it for you!”

My head had snapped up when I heard Charlie’s name and I was watching his face as he listened to his wife talk. When she was done explaining what had happened Charlie turned his gaze towards me, his expression still blank. When he started to move toward the couch I pushed myself off of Denise and rushed to stand up. It was bad enough that I was naked, I didn’t want to face this threat lying down as well. Denise, on the other hand, appeared to be completely unconcerned, both by her nudity and by the situation. Instead of hurrying to cover herself, or at least adopt a more dignified position, she stayed on her back on the couch and even went so far as to grasp her legs behind the knees and pull them up until they were almost touching her shoulders. Excuse me? Your husband just caught us having sex and you respond by going into some sort of compressed pile-driver position? This was unfathomable to me. I made a mental note to ask her what the hell she had been thinking when this was all over. I made another quick note to ask her if she would be willing to do it in this position should we actually end up sleeping together again. What can I say? She looked hot like that.

It took only a couple of steps for Charlie to reach the couch and stand before me and I stood there waiting for his next move. He looked at me intently, peering into my eyes as if searching there for an answer to a question he hadn’t even asked.

“You agreed to this? You agreed to get my wife pregnant?”

I lifted a hand and shrugged, hoping the noncommittal gesture could be seen by both Denise and Charlie as the answer they expected.

Apparently it was. Charlie thrust his hands out, taking mine in both of his and shaking it vigorously.

“Thank you! Really, thank you! I can’t tell you what this means to me. I owe you big time for this man. We should go get a drink or something, figure out how I’m going to pay you back for this. Do you need a car? I could buy you a car.”

“Charlie.” The exasperation in Denise’s voice was plain to hear.

“Oh right, right. Now’s not a good time. You’re busy. I understand. So I’ll get out of your way and let you two get back to making a baby!”

Clapping me on the shoulder Charlie gave me a huge grin and turned to leave the room, but not before turning back to face us and giving me two thumbs up and saying “See what you can do about making it a boy wouldja? I think I’d like having a son!”

I stood there for a minute watching the doorway Charlie had just disappeared through. What the fuck? What the hell had just happened? I turned to Denise to see if she knew. She was staring at the door also, wearing a bemused expression that slowly faded as she turned her head to meet my gaze.

“Well that went better than I expected. Good. It makes this so much easier.”

Easier for whom I wonder. And now what? I didn’t have to worry about Charlie kicking my ass unless I didn’t get his wife pregnant with a son? Great. Just great. I moved back to the couch and took a seat next to Denise, who was still lying there with her ass pointing in the air. That reminded me.

“What’s up with this position? Is this how you always argue with Charlie?”

“Huh? Oh you mean the thing with my legs. Yeah, that’s to increase the chances of fertilization. See, this way gravity is working for me and your little guys don’t have to swim quite so hard. Whereas if I was standing or sitting… see what I mean?”

“I see. Makes sense I guess. So how long do you have to stay like this?”

“At least half an hour, though longer is better.”

Half an hour. Well I didn’t have anything else that I needed to do for the next half hour. I scooted over, tucking my left leg under Denise somewhat and helping her to lift her ass into the air, further adding to the impression that she was in the pile-driver position. With my right hand I reached across and squeezed Denise’s butt. Well I wasn’t doing anything else with it at the moment, so why not?

“Stop that.”

My eyes shifted up to Denise’s and I could see she was smiling to take any sting out of her words but I stopped squeezing her cheek just the same. I imagine if I were in her position I wouldn’t want someone poking at my ass either. Call it a hunch. I closed my eyes and let my head rest on the back of the sofa.


“What are you thinking?”

Huh? What? Thinking? Who was thinking? Not me. I was… what was I doing? Right. I was napping. Well not really napping, not enough time had passed for it to be truly called napping. It was more like dozing. But I definitely wasn’t thinking. And I certainly couldn’t tell Denise that. Have to think of something she’ll believe…

“I was thinking about the sex…” there, she should find that easy enough to believe, and judging from the rolled eyes I’d say she did, “… and about where it may all lead.”

I turned to look at her. Her expression was a cross between deliriously happy and ready to burst into tears of joy, with delirious slowly winning out. It occurred to me that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her truly happy. Sure she almost always appears to have a smile on, in fact in most of her movie roles it seems to be her one and only expression so that even when she’s not smiling she sort of is. But those smiles always look like they’re plastered on, not the genuine article. The look on her face now was one of pure delight and it was entirely real. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her look that way before. The thought shocked me and I couldn’t help but say something.

“You’re happy. I mean, really happy.”

“Of course silly. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m finally going to have the baby I always wanted. Charlie’s cool with it. You’re cool with it. I just got finished having incredible sex. What’s not to be happy about?”

Ignoring the part about how cool I was or was not I focused instead on what she had said after that. See? This is not something I expected from your typical lesbian. The confusion must have shown in the way I was looking at Denise.

“What? What’s the matter? You didn’t expect me to be happy about this?”

Did I want to go there? I mean really?

“No, that’s not it. It’s just… ” apparently I did “… you thought the sex was incredible?”

“Of course I did. Couldn’t you tell? I mean… didn’t you think it was?”

That almost got a laugh out of me. Not think it was incredible. Fuck, I thought it was so good it deserved its own superlative.

“No. I mean of course I thought it was incredible. It’s just… Denise, are you sure you’re a lesbian?”

“What? What kind of question is that? Of course I’m sure. I’ve always… Oh! I get it. If I’m a lesbian how come I enjoyed sex with you so much. Sex with a guy.”

“Well, yeah. I mean isn’t that what being a lesbian really boils down to? You don’t have sex with guys.”

“For some I’m sure it does. I’m sure the thought of sex with a guy would be an unpleasant one for many if not most lesbians. But it doesn’t work that way for me. For me it’s always been about the girls, not the guys.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sure it does. Look at it this way. It’s not that guys turn me off. They don’t. But they also don’t turn me on. Girls turn me on. Always have. So it has nothing to do with not liking guys. I just don’t need them…” I gave her a significant look at that one “… most of the time that is. And if it turns out that I do… ” she reached out and took my left hand in hers “… need one from time to time, well that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself, does it? Like today. The sex was great and I enjoyed it. Simple as that. But given a choice between, say, Angelina Jolie and you, I’d choose Angelina. No offense, I just prefer women.”

“I’d choose Angelina too.”

Remember that happy smile that I was gushing about a few minutes ago? Well it was gone now. Replaced by a full fledged glower and Denise had started to squeeze my hand painfully hard. I had to quickly review what I had just said that had gotten her so angry so fast. Oops.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant. What I meant is I’d choose Angelina over me. Not over you. Un unh. No way. Not a chance. Nothing to see here. These aren’t the ‘droids you want, move along.”

She continued to glare at me for a few seconds more while I continued to babble, but then she relented, letting me off the hook to live to swim another day. Whew! That was close. Too close. If she’d said Jessica Alba I would have really been in trouble. I heaved a sigh of relief and let my head fall back down on the couch.

The half hour was just about over when Denise brought up the subject I’d been grappling with most of the afternoon.

“You know we’re going to have to do this again.”

Do tell.

I looked up at Denise with what I hoped was an open expression on my face, “Is that so?”

“Oh yes. The odds are against me getting pregnant the very first time we try. This could take months. Maybe even longer. We’ll have to sit down and coordinate our schedules to take advantage of my cycle. The doctor says I have to have sex within 72 hours of the egg entering the fallopian tube if I’m to have a good chance of getting pregnant. Obviously, the more times we do it during that time, the better the chances are. Also, you’re going to have to start taking a multi-vitamin. Something with selenium and zinc. Oh and you should avoid wearing tight shorts, like bicycle pants.”

“Oh c’mon Denise, that’s just a myth. Tight shorts have no impact on male fertility.”

“I know that. I just don’t like them. They’re dorky. Oh! Before I forget, you’re going to have to change your diet. Start eating more healthy. I can give you…”

I let Denise drone on about my new diet and what I could or couldn’t have, letting the words slide in one ear and out the other, the only thing briefly grabbing my attention being the part about having to give up alcohol, while I finally came face to face with my dilemma. Sure the part about no beer was alarming, but if I held firm and made this a one time thing then the whole point was moot. On the other hand, if I agreed to do what Denise asked, and saw this through to the end, then I sort of had to be serious about it and do what was required. And if that meant taking a multi-vitamin and not wearing bicycle shorts, somehow I would manage. But the part about no alcohol… I’d deal with that problem when the time came.

First I had a choice to make. Another in a never ending sea of choices we all face each day. Toast or English muffin. Coffee or juice. Jeans or Dockers. A red tie or a blue one. Fuck Denise or not. Give her a baby or renege on my promise. Choice, choices.

Denise was still talking all the while I was reviewing my options and I let her words register with me for the first time in many seconds. I was curious to see what else she felt I would have to give up to improve her chances of conceiving, but she wasn’t talking about diets or vitamins or tight shorts or anything else I would have to do or not do, or even how long the whole thing might take. She was talking about the baby. No restrictions or prohibitions, no regimens or schedules. Just this one tiny human life and how much she was looking forward to her arrival. Her. Whatever Charlie may have wanted, Denise wanted a girl. She even had the name already picked out. Samantha. Sam for short. Naturally. And while she talked about baby Sam’s arrival I saw the same smile settle on her face as had been there earlier, back before I had inadvertently stepped into a mine field. She was happy. Possibly the happiest she had ever been.

The small sign on the door said Personal Service Bureau. Why Bureau? James thought. He knocked twice, as instructed. The tall woman who opened the door was disappointingly dressed, in jeans and a t-shirt, but she led him through another door into a shadowy reception area manned by a slim blond, wearing a revealing black mini-dress. Smiling, she asked him to sign in and register his credit card, as the other woman took his coat. The blond woman’s eyes danced mischievously up at him from below heavily mascaraed lashes. James could feel his pleasure at her ample cleavage stirring in his trousers. She asked him whether he wanted a tour first, before choosing his service. He agreed and allowed himself to be led down a dim corridor, where three special rooms were waiting.

The advert had said that Special Tastes were catered for. The first room held an assortment of toys, different sized whips and paddles and a couch covered in a velvet throw. There were large ornate mirrors on each wall, presumably so one could watch oneself being punished in style. A tall, leggy brunette, wearing a cat mask, rubber stockings and the tiniest of dresses perched high on a stool overlooking the scene. She said nothing, but her dark red lips pouted sullenly.

The next room was altogether more soothing. Mobiles hung from the ceiling, calming music played and there was an adult sized cot and a large padded changing mat on the floor. A shelf held bottles of talc, large dummies, babies bottles and clean toweling nappies, folded neatly. The keeper of this room was about forty with a full bust and was dressed in a full blue apron over a white nanny style dress.

The third room held a swing, candles, chains, handcuffs, leather straps, blindfolds and various other bits of bondage gear. There was no-one in this room. Further down the corridor were an assortment of dimly lit massage cubicles, plainly adorned except for some framed erotic posters and shelves holding a variety of oils, condoms, wipes and tissues. Scented candles burned in each room and everywhere looked clean. Following their little tour, the blond led him to a waiting area where he was given a drink (he chose vodka and coke) and a menu to peruse. An erotic video was playing on the TV in the corner: two women were playing with a man on a big black bed, rubbing their breasts on him and then on each other. James cock hardened and strained in his tight jeans.

The special rooms were a lot more expensive than the cubicles, plus he was feeling a little out of his depth, so he decided to try a simple erotic massage for his first experience. The blond, who said her name was Kim, then offered him a picture menu of masseurs. He was disappointed Kim was not on the menu, but chose Lucie, a pretty, young, blue eyed blond with big boobs. Kim pressed a buzzer and a couple of minutes later Lucie arrived wearing the short gray uniform of the Bureau. She looked good in the dim lights: nicely tanned skin, white teeth and he could see the top of her rounded breasts. She smiled at him and took his hand, leading him to cubicle three and closing the door. Although the booths were meant to be soundproofed he could hear low moaning coming from nearby and his cock stiffened even more in anticipation.

Lucie began by helping him undress, observing his large cock unfurl with apparent pleasure as she removed his pants. Handing him a towel, she instructed him firstly to lie on his stomach on the well padded bed. James groaned as she rubbed scented oil around his shoulders and down his spine, reaching under his hips to pull him straighter on the bed. When it was time to turn over James though he would not be able to control himself much longer. Lucie had removed the overall to reveal a white lace bra and matching pants. Her thighs and stomach were firm and toned and her breasts heaved in the tight bra. He could see a damp patch on her crotch and realized she was enjoying this as much as he was.

As she squirted oil on his stomach and rubbed it in a circular motion, getting slowly closer to his huge erection, his hands moved to enclose her slim waist, moving up her body slowly, up under her well endowed breasts, under the bra, which she had unfastened, until his thumbs were rubbing her hardened nipples. His left hand continuing to massage each breast in turn, she gasped as his right hand reached down and slid the wet lace of her panties aside, his fingers stroking the silky slipperiness of her gorgeous cunt.

The massage had turned into something else now, she really seemed to want him. She lowered her mouth to his cock, sucking and licking up and down the length, before gently sucking first one ball, then the other, while running her hand up and down his huge shaft. He maneuvered around until his mouth was beneath her gorgeous wet fanny. She shuddered as his full soft lips gently sucked the delicate area around her clitoris. She could feel his hot breath on her as his tongue gently licked and flicked, teasing her to a climax. As he felt her coming and heard her cry out, he could hold back no more, shooting his load deep down her throat as he groaned and moaned uncontrollably into her hot, pulsating fanny. Then he turned her over, licking around her ass as she continued to shudder and cry out like a kitten, each wave of orgasm taking her over entirely.

Afterwards they both lay quietly on the bed for a few minutes, floating in the aftermath. While he dressed and got ready to leave, Lucie said she would not charge him for the extras, so long as he came back soon!

“Let’s hear it for social networking,” Becky smiled.

The pretty blonde sat curled on one end of the couch in her living room, her legs folded under her and glass of wine held negligently in her hand. Her guest sat opposite her on the couch, firm legs curled under her short skirt, a white blouse hugging her full curves and contrasting with her dark brown curls, her bright blue eyes twinkling with joy and a hint of mischief. Becky realized suddenly that she’d been smiling since she opened her front door to find Liz standing on her front step.

“Isn’t it amazing,” Liz laughed brightly. “All these new toys they didn’t have when we were in college…”

“Music downloads,” Becky offered, waving a hand toward the home entertainment center and the music softly playing in the background.

“Wifi,” Liz smiled.

“Smart phones,” Becky grinned.

“Oh gods,” Liz laughed, briefly hiding her face against her shoulder.

“What?” Becky asked, puzzled.

“Can you imagine,” Liz replied, peaking at Becky through a curtain of dark curls, “if they’d had camera phones back in college. The pictures of me that would have been all over the internet…”

Becky flushed hotly as memories flooded back: a crowd of guys around a door watching, Liz face-down on a bed, naked, her face flushed and sticky, a strange man fucking her ass while cum oozed visibly from her abused pussy.

“Oh God,” Becky shuddered, laughing weakly. “Your father would have killed you.”

Liz laughed, “Probably wouldn’t have helped the whole ‘family values’ platform, I guess… having photos of his daughter’s antics all over the ‘net.”

“How is your dad anyway?” Becky asked.

“The Senator is retired now,” Liz replied. “He got the boot in the last ‘throw the bastards out’ wave. Now he’s on the lecture circuit, still standing up for family values… which is funny given the divorce and the fact that he’s fucking an intern named Antonio.”

“Seriously?” Becky stared at her friend, laughing.

“I don’t blame him,” Liz smiled. “Antonio has fantastic abs and he can do amazing things with his tongue.”

“Oh my God!” Becky clapped her hand over her mouth. “You fucked your father’s boyfriend. You are such a slut.”

“A slut is just a woman who isn’t afraid to admit she likes sex,” Liz purred, leaning closer to Becky. “and is able to get it when she wants it.”

Becky blushed again, suddenly remembering Liz bent over a sink in the ladies’ restroom, short skirt bunched up around her waist, round ass red from spanking. Then she remembered Liz on her knees, looking up from between pale thighs. The feeling on her hot breath on Becky’s…

“So, do you ever hear from Derrick?” Liz asked softly. Becky jumped, snapping out of her memories. She felt strangely conscious of the other woman’s knee touching hers.

“Derrick?” Becky stammered, “Oh God, Derrick. No, I don’t think I’ve talked to him since we broke up. That was a little after you graduated. It just didn’t work out between us.”

“He said so,” Liz smiled slightly. “I remember him saying he wasn’t the right guy for you.”

“Yeah,” Becky felt her smile returning. “but it was a lot of fun to try.”

“I remember that, too,” Liz grinned.

Becky’s mind flashed to the memory of Derrick, tall, handsome with dark, mesmerizing eyes. She remembered his powerful hands pushing her onto the bed, while Liz knelt beside them, naked, rubbing her own clit as she watched.

Becky groaned, burying her red face in a cushion.

“Oh God,” Becky mumbled, “my face is burning.”

“I’ve always thought your face was hot,” Liz smirked.

Becky threw the cushion at her. “That was just pathetic,” she laughed.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” Liz grinned.

“You’re not even blushing,” Becky grinned back, looked at her friend. “How can you remember the stuff we did back then and not blush?”

“Because I’m not embarrassed by it,” Liz replied calmly, a slight smile on her face. “Because even those few bad things, I survived and I’m not ashamed of. But most of it, I remember fondly… very, very fondly.”

Liz leaned forward, her face inches from Becky’s, her blue eyes bright and wild. Her fingers traced warm lines down Becky’s cheek.

“Do you…” Liz whispered in a husky voice, “… remember me… fondly?”

“Liz,” Becky whispered into her old lover’s lips, ” are you trying to seduce me.”

“I’ve been trying to seduce you since the moment I walked in the door.” Liz’s finger traced a line down Becky’s neck to brush along the collar of her t-shirt.

“Slut,” Becky purred, closing her eyes.

“Yes,” Liz sighed, “mistress.”

Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Becky’s lips parted and their tongues fluttered together. Liz’s fingers slid lower, her hand cupped Becky’s small, pert breast, squeezing through the fabric of her t-shirt. Becky moaned into her lover’s mouth. Becky’s arms moved to encircle Liz’s shoulders.

Becky jumped back, suddenly. The glass of wine, forgotten in her grip, had quavered and dripped onto her hand.

“Damn it,” she gasped, panting for reasons that had nothing to do with the wine. “I almost spilled this all over you.”

Liz leaned back slightly. Her head cocked to the side as she gave Becky a quizzical look. Slowly, with a slight smile, she reached out and took the wine glass for her old lover’s hand. Becky watched, strangely entranced, as Liz lifted the glass to her lips and took a slow swallow of the bright red liquid.

“No,” Liz purred softly. “we wouldn’t want to spill it. Would we?”

Slowly and deliberately, Liz tipped the glass forward, pouring red wine down over her pale cleavage. The red stain spread across Liz’s expensive white blouse as the white flowed over her full, round breasts.

“You’re going to ruin that blouse,” Becky said breathlessly, unable to take her eyes from the swell of Liz’s breasts.

“I’d better take it off,” Liz purred. “So we can soak it.”

“Yes,” Becky breathed.

Slowly, Liz unbuttoned her stained blouse, revealing the curves of her full breasts, contained in a pale, lacy bra and the smooth surface of her belly. Slowly, she peeled the wet fabric from her chest and dropped it onto the floor.

“Oh,” Liz pouted exaggeratedly, “my bra is stained too.”

Her fingers traced the edge of the lace, down the slope of her full breasts. With a deft twist, she unhooked her bra and shrugged it off. Her heavy breasts fell free, their full curves pale where they weren’t shiny with dark wine, large round areolas pink against her fair skin , nipples achingly hard.

“I’m all sticky,” Liz purred, a wicked grin rising on her face.

“You,” Becky growled, leaning down toward Liz’s full, round breasts, “are… unbelievable.”

Liz pouted, leaning teasingly away from her friend. Becky grabbed her arms and pulled her forward again.

“Here,” Becky sighed, “let me help you clean up.”

Becky’s tongue flickered out, fluttering over the hard tip of Liz’s breast. Liz groaned, her playful expression fading into unabashed lust. Becky’s tongue lapped along Liz’s soft skin, licking off the sweet, sticky wine. Her hands moved to cup her lover’s heavy breasts, squeezing and molding them as her tongue slid over every sticky inch of their surface. As she worked across Liz’s breasts, Becky paused occasionally to suck and nip at the soft skin before moving on. Liz whimpered and moaned. Her fingers tangled in Becky’s blonde hair. Becky looked up at Liz, smiling over the swell of her breasts. She lowered her face once more, sucking firmly first on one nipple and then on the next. With a gentle nip that sparked a pained gasped from Liz, Becky released her and rocked back onto her hips.

“There, all clean,” she panted, her eyes shining. With a shuddering breath, she glanced down at the pile of stained fabric on the floor. With a laugh she added, “We really should soak that. You’ve probably ruined it.”

“I don’t care,” Liz purred. “It was worth it.”

“Come on,” Becky said, pulling herself to her feet.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Becky to lead Liz to the bathroom in the house’s master suite. Later she would wonder abstractly why she hadn’t chosen the kitchen or the hall bathroom, but by then, she already knew the answer. Likely, she always had.

Becky rested her shoulder against the bathroom door, watching, as Liz bent over the bathroom sink, soaking her stained blouse and bra in the hot water. The brunette’s breasts swung freely, reflected in the bathroom mirror. Her dark, curly hair spilled down the pale skin of her bare back. The short black skirt hugged her hips, and below it her shapely legs stretched to the floor. Becky felt her eyes drawn to the hem of the skirt, rising as Liz bent lower over the sink, creeping up to reveal the curve of her full ass and the flushed, swollen lips of her pussy, framed perfectly between her strong thighs.

“Jeez, Liz,” Becky sighed. “You’re not even wearing panties?”

“No, I’m not.” Liz looked back over her shoulder at Becky, smiling through the curtain of her curly hair. “Am I bad girl?”

In two quick steps, Becky closed the distance between them, her open hand swinging to deliver a stinging blow to Liz’s half-bared ass. Liz gasped as her body rocked with the blow. Sensuously, she arched her back, lifting her ass toward Becky.

“Yes.” Becky’s voice quavered between laughter and lust. “You are a very bad girl.”

Becky’s left hand slid up, wrapping her fingers around Liz’s neck. Her right came up again. The two women watched it rise in the reflection of the mirror, poised in the air above Liz’s ass.

“Now you’re going to be punished,” Becky whispered, “slut.”

Becky’s hand fell, striking another stinging blow against Liz’s ass. With a quick gesture, she flipped the brunette’s little skirt up, completely baring the pale curves of her round ass. One cheek was already flushed pink from the first two blows.

Becky smiled, raining a flurry of open-handed blows down on each ass cheek. Liz moaned and whimpered with each fierce slap. Her pale ass grew red, as Becky continued to spank her. Liz’s back arched more, raising her buttocks to meet the blows. Her legs spread slightly. Becky turned her hand, slapping Liz’s upper thighs where they met her ass. The other woman gasped.

Becky paused, smiling, then delivered a sharp blow directly between Liz’s legs. Liz moaned as Becky spanked her pussy. Becky rested her hand between Liz’s thighs, her fingers tracing the other woman’s wet folds. Liz shuddered and groaned, pushing back against Becky’s teasing fingers. With a quick blow, she slapped Liz’s pussy hard. Liz gave a shocked little cry.

Smiling, Becky withdrew her hand.

“You are a very bad girl,” Becky smiled. “You are a naughty little slut who likes getting spanked.”

“Yes,” Liz moaned. “I am a naughty slut and I love getting spanked. Punish me mistress. Please.”

Becky reached down and picked up a hairbrush from the bathroom counter. Liz’s eyes grew wide. Becky smiled.

The hairbrush made a loud crack as it struck. Liz yelped, jumping at the blow. Becky stood for a moment, admiring the red rectangle blooming on Liz’s already pink ass. Liz cried out as Becky’s second blow drew another red mark on the opposite cheek. She shrieked as the next blow crossed the mark left by the first and gave a quivering moan as the next blow, and the next, and the next, crossed and recrossed the burning redness on her ass.

Panting, Becky lowered the hair brush. Liz leaned over the bathroom sink, clutching the counter and gasping for breath. Liz’s hair hung in disarray around her face. Her full breasts heaved, flushed as red as her beaten ass.

Becky slowly turned the brush in her hand. Leaning forward again, she pressed the handle against the slick folds of Liz pussy. Liz groaned fiercely as the thick handle penetrated her. Working slowly, Becky moved the brush in and out of Liz’s pussy, gently thrusting it deeper and deeper into the other woman. Liz moaned and thrust back against the handle. Pressing her palm against the brush, Becky reached her fingers forward and found Liz’s engorged clit. The brunette quivered, grinding her hips against Becky’s fingers, driving the brush deeper into herself. Liz’s breathing quickened. Her hips rocked and thrust franticly. The edge of the brush itself was driven slightly into her wet folds as Liz violently fucked herself on it.

With a desperate cry, Liz’s body convulsed, shaking as an intense orgasm overwhelmed her. Panting, she sank to her knees on the bathroom floor, the hairbrush still deep in her spasming pussy.

Gasping herself, Becky looked down at Liz’s crumpled form. Quickly, Becky pulled off her t-shirt and unhooked her bra. With a single motion, she pulled off her jeans and panties and kicked them away. Turning, Becky stalked over to the large bed that dominated the master bedroom. She dropped onto the edge and spread her legs.

“Come here,” Becky said in a firm voice.

Liz looked up at Becky, through her tousled hair. With a soft whimper, she pulled the brush from her body and let it clatter to the floor.

“I said come here,” Becky commanded. “Come here, you slut, and eat my pussy.”

Languidly, Liz curled to her hands and knees. Her heavy breasts swayed as she crawled, cat-like, across the floor.

“That’s right,” Becky panted, watching every motion of Liz’s lush body. “Crawl to me.”

“My mistress,” Liz purred.

“Oh God,” Becky gasped, catching the intensity in Liz’s eyes. “Yes.”

“My mistress,” Liz growled, sliding her hands up Becky’s legs.

“Yes,” Becky sighed, leaning back.

“Mine,” Liz breathed, her breath hot against Becky’s thighs.

Becky’s hand leapt out, seizing Liz’s curly hair, holding her head firm. The two women locked eyes over the blonde curls of Becky’s pussy.

“Mine,” Becky snarled.

Roughly, she pulled Liz’s face forward. She felt Liz’s tongue lash out, parting her folds and fluttering along her slick flesh. Liz’s hands clutched at Becky’s thighs as Becky rolled her head back and groaned in savage lust.

“Oh yeah,” Becky cried. “Oh eat me, eat me you fucking slut. Lick my pussy.”

Liz licked and sucked at the outer folds of her pussy.

“Oh god, yes!” Becky growled. “Yes, yes, yes… you fucking… slut… oh god.”

Liz’s tongue fluttered over Becky’s clit.

“That’s it,” Becky moaned, pulling the brunette’s hair harder, grinding her pussy into Liz’s face, “just like that. It feels so good. Oh god, Lizzy… my Lizzy… my fucking slut… eat me!”

Liz’s fingers parted Becky’s folds. Her tongue teased and fluttered over Becky’s clit. Thrusting, she pushed two fingers into Becky’s warm pussy, touching her inside.

“Oh god,” Becky moaned, “Oh yes… Lizzy, yes… don’t stop… my fucking slut…don’t stop… I’m… I’m… I’m coming!”

Becky spasmed, arching back onto the bed as her whole body tensed with the power of her orgasm. Slowly, it faded away, then suddenly she spasmed again. Liz’s tongue continued to flick against Becky’s clit, sending little sparks of pleasure that coursed through her body.

“Enough,” Becky moaned, “enough.”

Smiling, Liz rocked back onto her heels. Languidly, she crawled up onto the bed and stretched out next to Becky, their naked bodies pressed against each other. Liz’s fingers traced slow spirals along Becky’s side and belly. Gently, she rested her head against her lover’s small breast.

For a while, they lay together like that.

“I love you,” Liz said finally.

“I love you,” Becky replied lazily, then tensed suddenly. “Oh God!”

“What?” Liz purred.

“I think I just cheated on my husband,” Becky moaned, covering her face with her hand, trying to pretend that the other hand wasn’t still cupping Liz’s breast.

Liz laughed softly. “Maybe, a little.”

“A little,” Becky laughed humorously. “Is that like being a little pregnant?”

Liz lifted her head, propping it on one arm to meet Becky’s eyes.

“Do you love your husband? Do you want to spend your life with him?” Liz asked calmly.

“Yes,” Becky groaned, “but I just found you again. I don’t want to give this up.”

“Then don’t,” Liz replied. “I can share. You know that. Can he?”

“I don’t know,” Becky moaned.

“Well, we could ask,” Liz replied. Then, with a mischievous smile, added, “I bet we could convince him.”

All characters are 18+

This is just a very short piece written from Hope’s point of view. It is just something new that I am trying. Let me know what you think. This is an email from Hope to her sister. If you haven’t read chapter 1, check it out first.


Dear Sis,

I know that I don’t call you enough, and I’m sorry. It is hard to talk about all the shit that is going on with mom and dad. They are the reason that I left Michigan, and they are the reason that you and I are apart. I’m sorry to put you in the middle of it, but until you smarten up, and decide to leave, that is where we are. Sorry to start this email out on such a shitty note. I miss you every day, and I wish that you would reconsider moving to Minneapolis. You can’t imagine how hard it is to be in a completely new place without your twin sister. Damn, I hate typing long emails on my phone. I guess that maybe it has been worth being without my computer for a few days though.

I met this new guy yesterday, and OMG! He works as a salesman at a local store. Yeah, that part doesn’t sound exciting, but trust me; there is more to this guy than just his job. I went in looking for a new laptop, because mine won’t do a damn thing, and this really cute sales guy greets me, and starts asking me what I’m looking for. He is a little older. Well, maybe more than a little. I guess he’s about thirty; but what the hell? Aren’t older guys supposed to be attracted to nineteen year old hotties? Hello?

So this guy is asking me about my laptop, and I can’t take my eyes off of his smile. He has these really dark brown eyes, and when he smiles, they sparkle. It is really strange, and a bit hypnotic. So I manage to stammer out the problems that I’m having with my laptop, without looking like too much of a dumb blonde (I hope). So he tells me that it’s probably just a virus, and that getting it fixed would be a lot cheaper than getting a new one. I am really strapped for cash, and I can’t imagine having to crawl back to dad, and ask him for the money. I’d rather prostitute myself out first. Well, you can already see where this is going. Brooke, I haven’t had sex in almost eight months, and the way that he was smiling at me, laptop or no; I was thinking that he would be the next name on my pitifully short list. He’s good looking enough, but there is just something about this guy Brooke. I just wanted him. As silly as it sounds, fucking this guy seemed like it was an achievement, like he was Brad fucking Pitt, or something. I know that you are laughing so hard that you are peeing on yourself, but it is true. He just has this magnetic personality.

So, Rob, that’s his name, tells me that he could probably fix it cheap. He said that it depended exactly how bad the damage was. So he pulls out a pen, and a slip of paper, and hands it to me; and that’s when I see it, his wedding band. I hesitated, because I had been thinking about banging this guy the whole time that he was talking to me. So I was in a predicament; should I give him my number, or not? I still needed my computer fixed; after all, that’s why I had gone in there to begin with. So I gave him my number. I figured that he probably wouldn’t call, and even if he did, I wouldn’t have to sleep with him.

So the next day, I had just got out of the shower, and he called. Not only did he call, but he called exactly when he said that he would call. It was none of that bullshit that guys our age pull. He was all business on the phone, so maybe all the sexual tension had been in my head. I gave him directions to my apartment, and he said that he would be right over. I took stock of what I had at the house. I had twenty dollars in cash, four beers, and half a case of ramen noodles. So basically, if Rob wanted money for fixing it, I was screwed; and not in the way that I wanted.

I figured that maybe if I dressed sexy that maybe he would give me a break on the price. I know that you are laughing again. You are always calling me a skanky little hoe-bag because of the way that I dress, how can I make that even sexier without answering the door naked? I put on this pair of really, really sheer black leggings. I hesitate to even call them that, they are more like opaque tights. I bought them a size too small, and they fit like a second skin. I wore a tiny t-shirt, and oh yeah; I didn’t wear any panties. It was as casually sexy as I could manage in twenty minutes. I wanted him to get a good look, but to maybe think that it was an accident. That way he wouldn’t get any bright ideas about having sex with me.

Things went fine. I let him in, and he was very casually checking me out. I love that about older guys, they won’t drool over you, even if you are as smoking hot as we are. I showed him around my apartment, and even showed him the studio. He seemed impressed by my work. He kept smiling that smile at me. His teeth are so white. God, Brooke, he was being a total gentleman, and I was creaming on myself just by looking at his smile and eyes, and hearing that rich baritone voice that he has.

I’ll make a long story short. He was working on my computer, and I just got down in the floor, took out his dick, and started blowing him. Yeah, I felt like the slut that you are always making me out to be. Here this nice, MARRIED man comes over to do me a genuine favor, and I can’t help myself. I pulled his cock out, and he was huge! You know that I am proud of my blowjob skills, but Rob stretched my talents to the limit in every way imaginable.

After I was done, he picked me up in his big strong arms. He held me like I was a little kid, and weighed nothing. I know that neither of us are big, and this feat isn’t really impressive on it’s own; but when he held me in his arms, I felt more safe than I ever have in my life. He laid me down of the couch, and physically ripped those leggings off. OMG! I had a little orgasm right then! Then he went down on me. You know that I haven’t been with a ton of guys, but I never actually imagined that a guy licking me could ever feel that good. He was the first guy that I’ve ever been with that really seemed to understand what I needed.

Remember when I told you that Zack went down on me, and couldn’t find my clit? This was the exact opposite of that. I never had to direct him in any way. He just made me feel good, and then it felt better, and then it felt like my head was going to explode. Remember that big debate that we had over that porn movie that we watched where the woman squirted cum out of her pussy? You said that it was possible, and I said that she was just peeing? Well, I was wrong. It happened to me for the very first time with him. How can a guy that I’ve known for a total of one day make me cum better than I can make myself? It just doesn’t seem possible. My orgasm was so powerful that I was literally “weak in the knees.”

He offered sex after, but to be honest, I didn’t know if I could take a fucking by him after that. My emotions were all a jumble and I kept thinking about his wife. I know that sometimes people just get carried away, and fucking him would make this a much bigger mistake on my part than just oral. I told him to take my computer home, and fix it, and if he still wanted to have sex with me after he thought about it, then we could. He cleaned up a little, and left; telling me that he would call me sometime tomorrow.

I have been able to think of nothing else since. I keep kicking myself for keeping us from fucking. I keep kicking myself for blowing a married guy in the first place. I am so fucking confused. Give me your honest opinion, Brooke. What should I do? Should I deny myself a chance… at what really? Can I even gain anything more than a really good fuck out of this? If that is all, would it really be worth it? The sad part about it is that it has already become more than just about the sex to me. I really like this guy. Should I kick him to the curb just because he found some other girl first? I was probably like eleven at the time. That doesn’t seem fair to me. I know that this is all bullshit rationalization. I think that no matter what I do, someone is going to be hurt.

I’m sorry for rambling. It is 3:30am, and I am not thinking clearly. I have picked up my phone to text him a half dozen times, and stopped myself. I know that he will call tomorrow. What should I do? I know that you will check your email as soon as you wake up. I would have called, but there is absolutely no way that I could ever have said all of this to you on the phone, or made you understand the situation. Call me when you get this, I don’t care how early that it is. I need someone to talk about this with, and nobody is closer to me than you.



Thanks to Phill, my awesome editor!

You never think of it, how the city is a lonely place. Surrounded by strangers at every turn, yet you can go for weeks without a conversation, let alone a genuine one. Hundreds of thousands of people dying for human contact.

Often it reminds me of my honors biology teacher at Gompers High in Council Bluffs, telling about the many survivors of submarine attacks in World War Two, who went on to die in their lifeboats. What killed them?

“You can go many days without food,” he said, “but only three days without water.”

But the castaways were surrounded by hundreds of miles of water, right? True, but it was saltwater, and saltwater quickly dehydrates the human body: the more you drink, the thirstier you become. So unless salvation fell out of the sky in the form of rain, they died of thirst in the middle of the ocean.

I thought of Mr. Klaus’ words as I walked the streets of my neighborhood. A bustling, young neighborhood, full of traffic and nightlife, especially down Clark Street.

People teeming along the sidewalks, spilling out of pubs and nightclubs, laughing, shouting, cars honking and pulling up to and away from the restaurants. I stalked past it all. Hands stuffed in my leather coat, I passed without notice like a ghost, and disappeared into the night like the white wisps of my breath.

Klaus himself is gone now, from a sudden heart attack. But at least he had a pretty wife and kids, probably grandkids. I’d come home to nothing but a silent, empty apartment that I didn’t want to go back to in the first place. Instead, I continue walking. To get out of the lights and noise, I turned down one of the side streets.

Roscoe Street was darker, more private. I walked along the tree-lined sidewalk until I came to the alley. If I used this as a shortcut, my street was only two blocks away. I didn’t have anything going, so why not? Cutting between the parked cars, I waited for a taxicab with a drag queen in back to pass by, then crossed the street and ducked into the alley.

It was pretty clean, as alleys go. Most of the garbage was put up, and there was a working streetlight down the middle of the alley. But these were nice buildings, filled with professional couples and students with well-off parents. Further down the alley were more boisterous sounds echoing off the steep canyon of buildings. There was a party on one of the large balconies that you see attached to the back of many apartments in the neighborhood. Most nights, you can’t get away from the sounds of revelling and merriment–or the feeling that once again you are missing out on something. I’ve felt that tug in my stomach throughout my life. Then again, once or twice a year, an overcrowded balcony or cheap do-it-yourself job would come crashing down, taking a few partygoers along for their last ride. Natural selection is a bitch.

The streetlight illuminated a blue cone of fat snowflakes that had been falling since the afternoon. It was the first big snowfall of the year, and an early one, in November. These were thick, wet snowflakes that crunched under your shoes and felt good melting on your cheeks and tongue.


I jumped when a heavy weight crashed down into the open dumpster on my left. The people on the balcony must have dropped a couple of very dangerous sacks three or four flights down, so I was momentarily pissed off–but overall I did not know what to think, or to do. Because…dangerous sacks, with flailing arms and legs?

Before I could think about it, I climbed up on the edge of the dumpster. I dug through snow, plastic sacks and newspaper, and there I found a girl. A stunned face, her mouth in an O, a pair of great wide eyes looking up at me.


“Hi.” I brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes.

Her breathing came fast and shallow like a bunny’s. She seemed to be going into shock. I took off my coat and covered her up to her chin.

“Stay still.” I dialed 911. I thought I’d heard a clanging sound when she landed, maybe her head. “Can you move your fingers and toes?”

“I think so.”

“That’s good.”

“My mother always called me a klutz.”

“But a very good diver.” I winked at her as the operator answered. I had a hard time hearing over the screaming and commotion on the balcony and the exterior stairs. “This is an emergency. Send an ambulance right away…”

When I finished the call, we were surrounded by people, my age and younger. Belligerent guys yelling, pushing me away as if some molester. Before they succeeded, I looked to the girl under my coat. Her eyes were trained on me. I leaned in to hear her say, “I’m a dumpster diver.” Her eyes twinkled.

They pushed me onto the pavement. I shouted over and over, “Don’t move her! Don’t move her!” Thankfully the idea took, and others began repeating the same.

I hovered nearby, the intruder, keeping watch until help arrived. Thankfully it was only a few minutes until the approaching siren and eventually the ambulance headlights turned into the alley. For such an awkward setup, the paramedics were quick about transferring her to a stretcher and lowering her down and into the truck. They stabilized her head with a strap and brace, but pronounced her all right.

As the relief spread through the crowd of onlookers, I nudged through to get my coat. “Where are you taking her?”


They secured the stretcher in an instant. Before they could close up, I leaned in. “What name? What name if I want to visit?”

They were going to shut the door on me, but stopped. She was saying something, from the stretcher. “Camden,” the medic said. Then he added a word. “Kiki.”


“Kiki? Kiki.”


“Kiki. All right?”

I’m pretty sure ‘all right’ wasn’t directed at me, because he didn’t wait for an answer before slamming the door in my face.

The ambulance turned out of the alley, under red lights and sirens.

# # #

It was pretty late when I knocked on the open hospital door. The TV was on low, and in the corner was a girl in a coat slumped in a chair, sleeping, which suited the atmosphere of the entire drowsy ward, preparing for the night. When I peered inside, a thin arm waved from the lighted bed.

My heart sprang as I entered the room. There she was, the blonde girl, laid out perfectly flat and straight under the sheets, with golden hair spilling over the white pillow. But it was her bright smile that reeled me in, and a flick of her wrist that urged me to hurry, like she had been waiting hours especially for me.

Her eyes were large, conspiratorial. “Hi.”

It was the same hi as when I first saw her, and I grinned at her ability to joke about it–so I returned the favor. “Hi. How are you feeling?”

She beckoned me closer, until I bent over her. “Good.” Her voice barely above a whisper.

“Did you break anything?”

“Maybe. So far so good. More tests tomorrow.”

“You’re not paralyzed or anything, are you?”


It was difficult hearing her, so I pulled up a chair.

“Your name is Kiki? I’m Martin.”

“Martin. Martin, I want you to stay with me. You saved my life.”

“Visiting hours are over. I’m lucky I made it up here. What about…?” I turned to indicate her company in the chair, snoring.

She screwed up her face and rolled her eyes. “She didn’t find me.”

“What happened, anyway?”

“I’m kind of a klutz. It was just, suddenly, like, whooo.”

“Suddenly, like, whooo?”

“I didn’t realize it was icy. Until whooo.”

“Whooo, you’re lucky.”


Staring into her eyes, I marveled that they were both blue and green, like intricate jewels. Her eyebrows and lashes were a uniform coffee brown that offset her bright eyes and complexion. To me, she looked exotic, beguiling, and she was inches away.

Eventually it dawned on me, deep in my trance, that her breathing was choppy and shallow, like it was when I found her. A jolt of alarm rang my brain: Wake up, idiot! “What’s wrong? Do you want me to call for help?”

“No. You’re rubbing my boob.”

I sprang back, horrified. She laughed and loudly, with plenty of lung power that I never heard before. Suddenly I knew it was all a game to her. But a romantic one.

“Look how embarrassed you get. That’s so cute.”

A nurse stopped in the doorway, drawn by the outburst. “Visiting hours are long over.”


The nurse shook her head over Kiki’s protest. “No.”

“But he just got here.”

“He can come back tomorrow.” This nurse wasn’t budging without me following.

“There, you can come back tomorrow.” After I waved and neared the doorway, Kiki said, “Martin, at least we know it still works.”

# # #

I visited Kiki the next day, and the day after. They found a hairline fracture in her C5 vertebra, or as Kiki liked to put it, “I broke my freaking neck.” It was hard not to stare at her sometimes like she wasn’t a freaking ghost, after falling, what, 30 feet? 60 feet? That, and she had really cute little ankles underneath her hospital gown.

And even stranger: How was it that this beautiful girl glommed onto me like she did? Because she absolutely did: She wanted and expected me around every day. Physical therapy, occupational therapy, she wanted me there. I understand gratefulness and feeling indebted, but each time I looked at her I was reminded that fine-featured, shapely women like this one have nothing to do with guys like me, except to get test answers.

Of course, when said fine-featured, shapely woman asked if I’d take her home the next day, I said, “Of course. What do you think?” as nonchalantly as possible.

Kiki was discharged wearing a halo brace to immobilize her head and neck. Thankfully she fit well in my tiny Honda. I think I drove that stretch to her apartment more slowly and carefully than I ever have.

“Only turds drive with two hands, Kyle. Gees.” Kiki was doing Shelly Marsh from South Park, who wears braces, not a halo–but it worked anyway.

“Thanks for the safety tip, sis. You suck.” I was doing lifelong geek desperately trying not to frighten away epic babe–but it worked anyway.

“That’s what I said, dorkus.” She slurped from the sides of her mouth for the win.

She lived in a one-bedroom near Diversey. Nicer apartments around there, the buildings not as stacked up as in my neighborhood. It was a light, airy home, with bright walls, outdoor views (not brick walls) and plenty of houseplants and framed prints. Nice, definitely a girly space. Much nicer than, say, a starting engineer’s flat in Roscoe Village whose sagging walls are decorated with newspaper clippings and a tattered Led Zeppelin poster.

Having laid down for much of the past a few days, Kiki felt winded by the time we got her home. She swallowed one of her pain meds. I laid her down, adjusting the pillows under her head and neck until she was comfortable.

She was out like a light. I used the time to clean the place up a little, do some dishes that were left, there wasn’t much.

When I finished, I couldn’t help but look around the place. Only what was out, no prying around, to get an idea about this girl who simply fell out of the sky. She had a beautiful mother, whose air was upright, severe. An older sister too, with similar blonde features but not quite the looker as her sister and mother. An achiever though, posing with the family, including Pops and a younger Kiki, maybe 14. Sister wore cap and gown for some sort of postgraduate degree, with old ivy buildings in the background. Before my inner Sherlock Holmes got out her hand, I forced myself to sit in the living room where it was bright and welcoming even on a gray winter day, and read an ebook on my iPhone.

Soon I was drowsing.

“Hello? Martin? Martin?”

It was Kiki calling. I didn’t know for how long. Too quickly I stumbled up, wobbly but concerned that something was wrong.


Steadying myself on her bedroom doorjamb, I peered into the shadows, where I had drawn the curtains shut.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Kiki lay on the bed exactly where I left her. When my eyes adjusted, I saw she held up her arms for me. “Martin.”

I went to her, leaned over, still on my feet. Her arms wrapped around me tight and she breathed into my shoulder. Standing at an awkward angle, bounded by her medical equipment, I stayed still and hugged her as best I could, smelling her, feeling her warmth. My back was twisted, my head was racing–and other things were too. But I didn’t move an inch, I didn’t dare to, letting the moment spool on and on and on.

After a while, she ran her hand through the back of my hair and let me go. “Thanks. I needed that.”

We decided she also needed groceries and some take-out. We drew up a list, and after she was situated safely on the living room sofa with the TV on and everything within reach, I dashed out to the store. I bought almost a week’s worth of groceries, and also some dinner from a stir-fry counter they had inside the store.

Outside it was already dark and snow was falling again, whipped around by icy gusts from off the lake. The apartment felt warm and cheery. It was good to come home to someone, at least for an evening. We laughed at an old Woody Allen movie where they ate from cardboard cartons like we were doing, and beneath an Afghan giggled at a dumb Farrelly Brothers movie. Under the cover we held hands the whole time. We could have been watching Gone With the Wind for all I cared.

At the end of the night, I was prepared to go, and surprised that she almost expected me to stay “if you don’t mind.”

“Nah. Me mind? No.”

Actually, in the fragile state she was in, I really didn’t expect anything, and neither did she. She had her hands full just getting acclimated to her new circumstances.

As I was crouched on the kitchen floor stocking the refrigerator, I heard a loud “ow!”

“What? What’s wrong?” I shot out of the kitchen.

“I stubbed my toe on this damn chair.” She bellowed a clumsy laugh. “I told you I’m a klutz.”

I returned to the kitchen, where I dropped a jar of salsa. The good news was that it didn’t break. The bad news was it didn’t break because it fell on my foot.

At bedtime, Kiki insisted there was no way I was sleeping on the couch. I stood outside the closed door, letting her get changed, and thinking.

When she called me in, there was a dim mellow nightlamp lighting the room. Kiki lay under the covers, dressed in flannel pajamas covered with penguins in the blue snow. I went to the far side of the bed and took off everything but my jeans. Then I slid under the cover on her queen-sized bed. Her hand lay above the covers and I took it.

“Martin, thanks…thank you for everything.” She was crying. She drew me up to her. Her voice broke in a hoarse crack of emotion. “I’m falling hard.”

She kissed my fingers and wiped her tears with them. I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing, smiling under her gaze, and brought my tear-soaked fingers to my lips and cheek in wonder. Her weeping on my hand was the most sensuous thing a woman had ever done for me.

I returned to my place on my side of the bed, and we laid parallel to one another like Rob and Laura Petrie. I took her hand and we fell asleep.

# # #

Another day, another family leave day from work. I had never taken even a sick day before, so my bosses were cool with it. We had to at least get Kiki set up, even if it took a week. I felt a little guilty hoping it was a whole week.

I planned to do breakfast in bed, but we decided she needed to be up and around, to get her legs under her again. That didn’t go so well.

“Dizzy, dizzy.” She wobbled next to the bed, until I guided her down again.

“That’s all right. Let’s just sit you up.” I propped a pillow behind her so she was comfortable.

In the kitchen I washed and cut up an apple to share. She could use the blood sugar, and I could use the breath cleansing, especially because I had no toothbrush.

“Thanks.” She was still pretty weak. I fed her half the slices myself.

“Let that sink in. Sit tight.”

Underneath the sink I found a plastic tub, which I scrubbed out in the bath. Added warm soapy water, a clean washcloth, and as an afterthought, a splash of some sweet-smelling body wash, I think tangerine. I brought it in with a hand towel and lotion.

“Would you like to freshen up? I can leave this here, or get you started. Whatever you want.” What the hell am I doing?

I set the tub beside her. I was going to leave it there, leave the room. She said nothing, completely silent. Gave me not a clue.

Squeezing out of the warm washcloth. I wanted to give it to her, but her hands remained at her side.

Tentatively, carefully, I reached for Kiki’s face. When I was young I watched my mother care for my grandmother in her final weeks, so I was familiar with the motions of what was needed. But I was totally unprepared for the responsibility of actually doing so, as I touched her face the first time. My hand felt jumpy like the arm on my parents’ old record player, ready to skip away and, god forbid, wreck the halo. To stop my head from spinning, I concentrated through the cloth, to simply tracing her cheekbones, her chin, her neck, all those beautiful features I had been admiring for what seemed so long now.

I splashed a lot wringing out the washcloth so that I could catch my breath. “Am I pressing too hard?”

“How did I find a person so good?”

“You didn’t.” I took her wrist to start on her hand. “I found you.”

She hiked the sleeves of her PJs, so I washed her arms to her elbows. Then her feet and legs, to her knees.

That was the end of the line, as much as I could do. Before I could leave or say anything, she stopped me with a statement.

“Help me, please.” She unbuttoned her top, and leaned forward for me to pull off her sleeves. Silently, she hugged her knees so I could wash her bare back. Peeking out from under the shoulder vest that supported the halo, a purple-and-yellow bruise stretched to her lower back.

“Does that hurt?”


I dried her back and smoothed in some lotion, avoiding the spot. No doubt she could feel my breath on her shoulder.

Kiki lay back, without her top, and did not cover herself, clutching the bedsheet on both sides of her. Her eyes remained lowered. In only the support vest, she was definitely exposed.

Sticking to my task, I sponged her arms, sides and stomach. The vest of soft fleece underneath and hard plastic on top had an unusual shape: it curved in on both sides to expose (and not irritate) her areolas. Straining the cloth to avoid soaking the fleece, I washed her nipples and bunched the towel to dab them dry.

Without a word, Kiki pulled open the bow at the top of her pants, bridging her bottom over the bed and waiting for me. Gently I pulled them off of her legs, and since she remained in the air, I peeled down her lilac panties. This time when she sat back she stared directly at me. This time there was fire in her eyes.

Wow, her body was more luscious than anything I’d seen in real life. It was all there for me, with nothing in between the except for that space pyramid around Kiki’s head. Business first, I reminded myself. I dipped the washcloth to get back to work. My hands were soaking wet, but my mouth felt like the Sahara.

I started on one of her hips, reaching around as best I could. Then across her lower stomach (her pussy was the same lush color as her eyebrows–I almost swallowed my tongue) to her other hip. As if I pressed a magic button, she raised both of her knees and pushed her hips forward. I washed one thigh, and then the other. Her breathing was ragged, insistent. I could feel her looking at me.

The washcloth dripped into her belly button, trickling down in her strip of fur. I washed her aimlessly, but she brought her hand over mine and pushed it down, down between her legs. Her bottom scooted forward, on top of her discarded pajama pants.

I washed her, caressed her everywhere. Then I rinsed the cloth and brought it back again soaking. I massaged her with some pressure. She responded with some of her own.

Her eyes closed. Her groans became high-pitched. The cloth had fallen away now and my fingers danced around her naked clitty, coaxing it more as her cries sounded more desperate. My ears were my guide. Soon she climaxed, but I continued, and she came again in two more waves.

She drew my hand away to her tummy. She was tender and tired and grinned at me slyly. I helped her lie down to rest, then quickly cleaned her and took away the laundry.

While she snoozed, I cleaned up the bathroom, thinking, ‘Holy shit, dude, did that really just happen to you?’ For the whole next 24 hours I did, actually.

# # #

“Oh, baby.”

Kiki called me baby!

She was naked for the bed bath I gave her the next morning. And she was coming again on my hand.

After the first climax, she surprised me. She raised on her knees and with a hand on my chest, pushed me on my back. “Get out of those.”

I wore the baggy shorts I slept in. Baggy by design. Without them, I sprang out, taut and red. We were naked together for the first time.

She prowled over me like the tigress. Eyeing the rig around her head, I almost told her to be careful and that this was a bad idea, but her sudden animation checked my tongue. There are no words for some moments. She had my prick and she pounced.

“Whoa.” I felt her tongue flicking my tip. I felt her lips popping around the edges of my mushroom head. I felt the ticklish sensations of her mouth moving about the end of my cock.

But she couldn’t get any traction. It seemed that I wasn’t…ugh, it couldn’t clear the halo!

With a grunt of frustration, she drew away. I thought I was finished, ruined. I was wrong.

Kiki sat on my legs. She reached down with both hands, and now she was the snake charmer. She was expert. Soon I was flat on my back as if I’d been punched. Then she reached behind her for lotion.

Fast–maybe faster than I could do myself–I sprayed on my chest, and gushed in a pool on my stomach. Breathless, I watched Kiki swipe her fingertips in it and suck them clean wearing an expression of both innocence and sin. I knew better than to ask how she knew all that. After all, she could very well ask me the same–and I was making it all up as I went along, totally out of my depth!

So it was that we “co-habitated,” as they say. I ran errands, cleaned the temporary pins on her forehead, washed her hair, got her on her way to therapy in the mornings, and she provided a spontaneous and often wacky spark, a purpose and joy to life that I hadn’t felt since a child. There were no discussions or decisions or declarations. Out of necessity and mutual need, we simply cemented. Instantly, improbably (yes, I noticed the “What’s she doing with him?” looks, especially after she got rid of the halo), we were a couple. Other than the week of Christmas when her family visited and I stayed away, we were inseparable.

Weeks went by, and we were in the depths of January winter, bleak and dark, with the entire city encrusted by jagged ice. Kiki had a big appointment. It was finally time to get the halo removed.

She waited at the curb where I left her, while I tried backing the car in a space near her building. It was not the smallest space I’d ever parked in, but the street made it difficult. It was grooved and crunchy with the grimy, treacherous kind of ice that’s everywhere when the winter becomes old and spiteful. Checking the clock, I worked the car back and forth in the space.

There was a great thump behind me. Like I ran over something. I looked back. Kiki was nowhere in sight.

“What the fuck!” I flew out the door.

Sure enough, Kiki lay under the car, little more than her head visible.

“Fuck! What the fucking fuck! How did you–”

“I know, I know, I’m all right. I slipped.”

“How did you slip? I told you to–”

“I know, I slipped. What can I say, I’m a klutz.” The car sputtered a puff of exhaust in her face.

Clouds of frosty breath shot out of me in place of all the things I was thinking. I made certain she was clear of the car and tires. “Do not move.” I rolled down my window and pulled out as slow as a snail.

As it turned out we were going to just the right place to get her checked out. The x-rays showed she may have irritated the fracture. Three more weeks in the halo.

Kiki pouted on the way home. Throughout the ordeal, she had been incredibly patient and cheerful, a rare kind of fortitude that endeared her to me. That day, not so. That day was a setback. It hung in the air. I didn’t blame her for feeling glum. I said nothing at all as I parked the car in the frigid evening and we made our way to the apartment.

We ate simple soup and sandwiches at the little table, uttering not a word as the radio played. I cleaned up and she went to sit on the couch.

When I turned out the kitchen light, she still sat in the shadows. In the middle of the couch, her hands pulled up in her sleeves.

“You OK?”

She nodded without turning and held up her arms for me.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded small, weepy. “Hold me.”

We sat together a long time, with the radio on, in one of our “halo hugs.” I had closed my eyes, smelling her hair that we washed in the morning, and getting into Cake or whatever was on at the time, when I noticed her hands roaming. Over my chest, under my shirt, over my jeans.

All right, I thought, massaging her through her blouse. That’s all it took to start the fuse. Kiki was like that, once you got her started…and she liked to be started often. She made me feel like a sex god. I know that’s laughable: me, who got a date every time there was a solar eclipse, who infamously (in Iowa) got conned into bringing the captain of the cheerleading squad to the prom only in order to make her boyfriend jealous (and she left with him). Me, who was well used to going to movies alone and dining out alone. I was going to say something smart, like, ‘So is this make-up sex?’ but I held my tongue. Who was I to argue?

Kiki was already through my clothes and was removing her blouse and bra. Naked, I helped her out of everything else and saw her slide to the end of the couch.

“Come on, baby.” She lay back and brought my hand up along the inside of her thigh. She was wet and tender. I got very good at bringing her off with my hand, with learning the intricacies and rhythms of her pussy. But as I got started, she nudged my hand away. “I’m ready.”

When a guy is being led around literally by his dick, his rational mind is on life support. Now I summoned whatever resources were left there. We had played with her on top some, out of longing and sheer frustration, but never too far or uncontrolled: It was only dress rehearsal. It forced us to have fun and be creative. The last thing we needed to injure her again.

“I don’t want to do this. It’s only three weeks.” While I tried to sound decisive, her thumbs tickled the sensitive underside of my cock near the tip.

“I do want to do this.”

All right, I decided, that was enough. It was a frustrating day, it was a frustrating situation, I was a frustrated man pleading with a frustrated goddess who was totally ignoring my common sense on her behalf. Enough, enough!

Standing up, I turned on the lamp. Before she could say a word, I pointed at her to stay put and stormed out of the room.

I threw open her bedroom closet. More than anything, more than even shoes, Kiki owned belts. Flashy belts, funky belts, belts, belts, belts. It was her look. I grabbed the whole lot of them. A few scarves. Bungy cords from the front closet where she kept her skis.

With plenty of dramatic clatter, I piled them all on the coffee table. “Now you’re going to get what you want.”

The couch was a sleeper sofa, though the bed was never used. I shoved the center cushion part way forward so I could reach inside and loop one of the heavier belts to the frame. Kiki laughed in disbelief.

“Engineers are problem-solvers.” I shoved the cushion back in place and reached into the front to loop another belt.

“Then get solving.” Her legs were curled up out of the way, her toes pointed. She was playing with herself. “Hurry.”

I tossed down a pillow, patted it. “Up.”

With her hips propped up, I ran a thick leather belt through the other two and muscled it as tight as I could. It sat tightly, snugly across Kiki’s waist, hiding most of her belly button. Her breath escaped in surprise as I yanked tighter. Her lower body was immobilized.

“My god, you are pervert.”

“Brace yourself with your hands, or they’re next. And your mouth too, while I’m at it.” What the hell, the hard-ass shtick seemed to be working for me. I pulled out the end cushion and flung it (a little too hard) across the room.

Kneeling inside the divot, I kissed her knee and positioned it against the back of the couch. The other one fell open gently on its own. So completely exposed, she moaned almost sheepishly. I could smell her anticipation.

In my wallet was a condom. I bit open the wrapper, pulled down my jeans and got the rubber started while I kissed the softest skin of her innermost thighs. To stir the honeypot, I traced her labia with the tip of my tongue. She was slick, sweet, aching.

Quickly I was lubricated and at her door. Grasping her inner thighs, I slid inside her. So snug, she exhaled to let me deeper.

I’d only been with two other girls, but it was just awkward screwing. With Kiki this was only the next stage of our bond together, making love, being inside her. It’s a long way of saying I knew then exactly what I was doing. Loving her, and feeling her gripping me, urging me for more and more. All seamless and natural, primal and urgent.

We were so in sync that I let go my hold of her. I took each of her hands in mine and leaned close to look squarely in her eyes. That did it, and her gaze rolled away as the first wave washed over her. I kept with her throughout, on top of her, stroking away like treading water until she could catch up with me once more, until the waves broke over her again, and then…and then I let go. The waves overtook us both together.

After, I stared at her radiant face, at her moist puffy lips as succulent as a pink orchid.


“I can’t believe how gorgeous you are. I can’t believe you’re with me.”

She glanced at her brace and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m such a catch.”

“Serious. If it wasn’t for all that, we wouldn’t be together. You know it.”

“Stop that. Now I’m serious. You need to figure everything out, to understand how things work. I get that. But life, it goes its own direction. May as well go with it. Let it happen.” Her fingers played reassuringly through my hair while her words sunk in. “But you can do that with the belts to me anytime!”

She laughed one of her dorky snorkel laughs through her nose, just to remind me I was still on Planet Kiki.

# # #

By the beginning of March, Kiki was unchained, unshackled, free and clear, and we were both feeling restless. We drove for a weekend in Northern Wisconsin. Kiki hadn’t used her skis all year.

I realize how this makes me look: Idiot! But please understand I didn’t know what I was skiing into, since all of the attention was on me. I had never skied before, and never wanted to. A full 90 percent of the weekend’s project was focused on me, getting me up and running and helping me appreciate the relaxing winter pastime. Ah, snow in my socks, up my butt, in my ears, I grumbled behind my smile the entire time.

Kiki was in her element, graceful as a swan, delightful. She would pirouette past me while I tried stopping like she taught me, pigeon-toed like Steve Urkel. “There you go!” It would have been much more irritating if she didn’t look so delicious, in fuzzy earmuffs that matched her white ski jacket, blue jeans that fit just right, and her ivory smile setting it all aglow.

At last I was making a nice run. All day I had crashed every 15 or 20 feet. Now I had some momentum. Yes, now I was skiing.

A line of dots waddled across the base of the hill. Children, being led by an adult for some kind of class. Directly in my path.

I turned my skis inward. Nothing.

Come on, Urkel, show me something. No, now I was flying.

Now kids here and there noticed me, observed me fast approaching. Urkel, you fucker!

I had no choice. I wiped out on purpose.

The entire line of six- and seven-year-olds looked at me like I was pathetic. I guess I didn’t kill any kids, but it felt like I got blitzed by Brian Urlacher and all the rest of the Bears.

Then the pixie stopped by. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.” Kiki smiled and sped away. “We’ve got all day tomorrow!”

“Ah, tomorrow.” Any thoughts I could have had about strangling her were dissipated by the vision of that perfect ass gliding off to play.

Tomorrow did indeed arrive. Oh, I was so happy.

Surprisingly, I took right to it! I started down the medium slope, with Kiki by my side. We did a wide and an easygoing slalom.

“That’s it! You just needed to relax.”

Yeah, relax. Enjoy things. Skiing is fun.

When I turned to wink some gratitude at Kiki for being so patient, is when I saw her disappear into the trees.

At the end of the season, with low snow, it happens. It does funny things under your skis. So said everyone afterward, pointing to the signs.

# # #

That night found us in our lodge room, once more negotiating new terrain together.

“Should I stop?”

“Stop and I’ll kill you.”

“You can’t kill me now.” I looked up from my work. “My tongue rules your world.”

“Shut up.” She pulled my head into place and kept me there, muffling me in the sweet folds of her sex.

I loved mouthfucking her. Dipping my tongue up and down the length of her moist slit. Exploring and hunting down her hot spots with my sucking lips. Honing in and french-kissing her clitty. I loved her taste, her smell, her excitement. I loved it all.

Particularly I liked figuring it out, how it worked. Her pussy and orgasms were a far more complex system than any watch or generator I’d taken apart as a kid. Of course when I said so out loud, Kiki hit me on the head. She obviously preferred more mystery and magic in her romance. Maybe women do, I don’t know.

To me, the results spoke for themselves. Her low growls that wound up like an awakening feral cat inside of her. The urgent gasps and exclamations that escaped her. Her eyes twisted up tight, and her nipples standing up even tighter. Her hips bucking, her pussy gushing like ripe citrus, her entire body electrified and pulsing–all on the tip of my tongue. To me, this was the magic. As her climaxes cycled on and on, I felt like Merlin, I felt like Tesla, I felt–


Her brand new leg cast gashed my ear, but good. I probed with my fingertips to see if I was bleeding. Already it felt inflated and hot like a cartoon ear.

Kiki was coming back to her senses. She stretched out her arms. “Come. Let me kiss, make it better.”

I crawled into her arms and let her kiss my ear, with a fair amount of licking too. She continued across my cheek, and began sucking her juices from around my lips. Wow.

My heavy cock dropped on her bare leg.

That got her attention. “Goodness.”

“Goodness has nothing to do with it.” I bent her knee out of the way. She was soaked and swollen and oh so ready.

“Ah! Ahh…my, my goodness.”

# # #

In spring and early summer, the city scrubs itself down and welcomes the return of color, the songbirds in the trees, the vivid flowers and noisy children to the parks. Like all the other seasonal parolees (that’s how we feel), Kiki and I were climbing and scratching to be outside.

After such a difficult winter, we felt like latecomers to the party. We hit the lakefront every day. Kiki wanted to bicycle it. I said no way. By this time I had earned a little veto power. So, it was walking and jogging. Once I let her talk me into renting Segways, just for fun, to see how it was done. It was more enjoyable for her than me, because Kiki was not in full football gear and there were no Fisher Price models available. Someday we would get bikes, because the city is so much easier when you’ve got one. Only she was on Kiki Probation, which, whenever I invoked it, I made her repeat the terms:

1. No breaking anything. 2. No falling over anything. 3. No other shit like that.

She wrote down the terms and put them on the refrigerator door. Pleased, she spun into my arms. “Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

“No to any of that. But I will kiss on it.” I squeezed her bottom for good measure.

“Works for me. Horndog.”

We joined the Y, and started tae kwon do together, all to build her up. Really, to build us up. I’d never had interest in anything physical. In high school I was no athlete, I was a mathlete. Now though, I was motivated to do things I’d never wanted before. To excel in them. It was dawning on me that maybe this was what a true relationship was about. Maybe this was why the hell people got married to the same person forever…and willingly. Maybe the right relationship can complete you in ways you can’t even imagine when you are casting about alone. This idea, and watching it play out, was a strange thing indeed.

Besides all that, or maybe the addition to it, we still liked spending time with each other. All the time. We could scarcely believe it, too, how perfect and natural it can be. No games, no drama. When does that happen? It was like the other shoe had to drop or something–but it never did.

The summer went by blissfully and quickly. Smoothly too: There were no infractions of the Kiki Probation. It was just the way I liked it. But with the winding down of the calendar toward Labor Day, there was something I needed to do, something I had been putting off.

It was after Tuesday Night Tae. Kiki was really up. She earned her blue belt that night. (I was still a green belt, working for my blue tip.) Her smile was at its biggest and brightest. We walked for an ice cream cone afterwards. When she smiled like that, she literally stopped people on the street, like she did that evening.

She ordered blueberry, I remember, in honor of her achievement. It tasted good. “So, this isn’t the surprise you mentioned, right?”

She held my cone while I fished in my gym bag and handed her an envelope. A few seconds later her jaw dropped. She jumped in my arms.


“I promised I would do it. I checked the mortality and casualty figures. It’s not so much worse than driving. I picked a good place.”

“This is going to be brilliant, life-changing. You’ll see!”

“I’ll see. Saturday.”


Kiki skydived the year before and loved it. She had been challenging me with it all summer long. ‘Pleading’ with me is the better word. The actual challenge was within myself. But that seemed to be our theme of the summer, to push each other, challenge each other. Maybe it was the theme of our entire relationship. So in that spirit, I bit the bullet, shelled out the cash and was determined to make it a lifetime memory for both of us. I was “letting life happen.”

In either case, I looked at enough statistics, online news reports and YouTube videos in the course of the week that I was convinced any spastic could do it. By Friday I was stone cold convinced I could do this.

We had an early jump time and a bit of a drive to get there, so we turned in early Friday night. Kiki was kissing my chest, so I slid my hand in her panties and my finger was prying between her soft little cheeks.

“No.” Her voice was as small as a kitten’s as she nestled against me. “Hold me.”

“What’s wrong? Are you nervous? About tomorrow?”

“A little.”

“Look, we don’t have to go. If you’ve got a bad feeling–”

“No, no. What about you?”

“Am I nervous? No.”

Kiki sighed and squeezed the pectoral muscle on my chest, which was showing some results from the past few months of working out. “Just hold me.”

“Good night, sweetie.” My nose burrowed through her silken hair and I kissed her head.

I slept like a rock.

# # #

I awoke in the middle of the night. 2:20. Hours to go.

Closing my eyes, I tried to sleep but could not. There in the dark, as the minutes stretched into hours, my mind began projecting all of the scenarios that could go wrong. Dozens of them. It would not stop. My memory replayed one of the videos I’d seen, of a grandmother who almost fell out of her harness at several thousand feet and nearly plummeted to her death. Replayed it time and again, and again, and again…

5:13. For crying out loud. Maybe I should cancel this, but I can’t. I planned it specially for her.

Then, music to my ears. Deep thunder, that seemed to shake the very floor. Followed by rain, glorious rain, making its hushing sound outside the window, whispering that everything was all right.

Grinning, I passed into a sound sleep.

“Wake up, you sleepyhead! It’s the big day.” Kiki was shaking my shoulders. She had pulled up the shades, and the window behind her blinded me with cursed sunshine.

I was Dracula, shading my eyes with the back of my hand. “But it was raining this morning. Pouring! Didn’t you hear?”

“All gone.” Kiki bounced on the bed a couple times like a kid on Christmas, and spun on her way. “Let’s get it!”

At the window, I craned my head up. There were clouds up there, but that was indeed the sun. Bastard.

I could not pee. I dropped things. I burned the eggs. Then,

“Ow!” I smashed into Kiki’s nemesis, the armchair. She stopped what she was doing and poked her head out of the bathroom.

“I hate that thing.” She pointed her toothbrush at the guilty armchair, like picking a perp out of a lineup. Her mouth was full of toothpaste. “Wherever I move it, it gets me.” She returned to the bathroom to finish brushing.

I hopped around like a peevish flamingo, fuming to myself: Of course it doesn’t “get” you, you daft cluck. You crash into everything. And now, apparently, so do I.

She walked up and planted a kiss on me, minty fresh. “I feel wonderful.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“You were so reassuring to me last night.” She stood on tiptoes and ground herself against me, purring hot on my throat. “That’s what a real man does.”

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I was not only nervous but more than a little ashamed of my inner temper tantrum. But I still couldn’t pee.

A few minutes later in the car, I checked in my pocket for my wallet and everything I’d need, and we headed out. Kiki screwed up her face when I put on news radio, but soon she was off telling me about last night’s dream where she was in the Himalayas chased by abominable snowmen and monks with throwing stars. Every day, her dreams made me laugh, but that morning I lost myself in statistics after I heard the weatherman say there was a 10 percent chance of rain. Ten percent was not good odds. It would be easier to draw an inside straight. But on the bright side, it was better odds than Russian roulette. How nice. I looked again at the sky.


I almost turned the wrong way on a one-way street. People honking, glaring through their windshields from the moment I put on my turn signal, plus Kiki warning me–yet I didn’t notice.

“Honey, that’s Ontario.” Kiki sounded puzzled, because we drove that area all the time. “Want me to drive?”

“I got it. I got it.”

“I know you do. So anyway, there was this white Pekingese like I want us to get, named Pao Pao, what a cutie, and he pops up at the direst moments, with words of wisdom or a clue written on a fortune cookie and…”

On the freeway west, my renegade mind ticked down the list of our misfortunes in the preceding months. Lost in Kiki’s narrative, I pictured the snow-covered dumpster. Listening for a weather update, I daydreamed about Kiki underneath my car. Even my usual interior game of calculating our minute of arrival using our speed and mileage markers proved too complicated next to the image of Kiki in the dense stand of Wisconsin pines. Where we tempting fate here?

Maybe I needed to say something. Plus I needed to whiz.

If there was Phantom of the Opera organ music playing in my head, Kiki wasn’t hearing it. “We’re here!” She rocked in her seat. “I can’t believe you’re doing this with me.”

I guess not with the saying something.

We checked in at the front desk, and Gary, the owner of the drop zone, was right there. “We’ve been waiting for you guys all week.” Young muscular guy, stood solid and straight, used hand gestures. “You won’t believe this, but our on-site radar has a storm coming in. We’ll get you up there though, don’t worry. You’ll be our only load of the morning.”

“That’s OK, we understand.” I smiled magnanimously, and used hand gestures too. “We don’t want to ruin your perfect student safety record, do we?”

“Bro, we’ll take care of you.” He nudged me with a conspiratorial elbow. “Let’s get you right to orientation. Follow me.”

The jump instructor, an athletic blonde man using the same hand gestures, sped through a lecture on what to expect, when to arch your back, how to read the altimeter on your wrist. My mind flipped through our carousel of calamities. I started feeling sweaty and looked toward the door. At just the right moment, Kiki squeezed my hand and winked at me.

The lecturer turned out to be Kiki’s assigned jump instructor. He nodded to the corner and said, “You’re going with Mad Dog.”

Slumped in the corner desk was a guy with wild unkempt hair and sunglasses, who hadn’t shaved in about five days. He pushed up his shades, revealing bloodshot eyes. “You ready to rock this thing, mate?”

I held out my hand. “Sure.”

He held out his fist, so I bumped it.

In the hangar, while the airplane taxied onto the tarmac outside, they strapped us in harnesses: over the shoulders, through the legs and tight. It looked like I was wearing a codpiece. Shit, that reminded me–

“I’ve got to use the restroom!”

“Are you off your nutter?” Mad Dog lifted his hand at the others filing to the plane. “Do you know how much fuel is nowadays? Go! Run!”

Having a flashback to beginners swim class, I trotted off to the duddy, as Mad Dog would call it. Standing at the urinal, the airplane angrily buzzing in the background, I scrunched my eyes. “Come on, come on.” My misgivings had boiled themselves down to creepy flashcards:





I shook Mr. Dickens, but he wasn’t playing. Oh, please, please, please.

Then I thought about what worked before. In the classroom, Kiki winked and took my hand. That settled me down, instantly.

So, I pictured Kiki winking at me once more. Then reaching over and taking my…

“Ahhh.” I laughed over the sound of splashing. Wait until I tell her about this, I thought. If we survive.

Knocking at the door. “Circus is waiting!”

A few moments later, I sprang from the door. “Let’s do this.” At least I would die with a happy bladder.

The winds had picked up by the time we ran outside. The plane was loaded with jumpers, shrugging inside of their gear. We hopped inside and took our seats beside the door. The Plexiglas door came down, and the plane started bumping its way down the runway.

In a small plane like that one, bumping is just the right word. From the moment we lifted off, we felt every jive and juke as the aircraft struggled to climb through the gusts. Or at least I felt every jostle: The rest of the merry passengers seemed to have already started the party, psyching each other up with war whoops and high fives. Kiki was right in there with them.

“That your girlfriend?” Mad Dog leaned over my shoulder as he fastened our harnesses together. “Damn!” He shook my harness either in congratulation or to test our connection, I don’t know which.

All the way up, he kept tightening and tightening our connection points, as we climbed past scattered clouds, as the air grew colder and thinner, and as our connection became so tight that I felt I could no longer draw a full breath.

At last, Mad Dog finished. “The cloud deck is firming up. We’re barely going to get out on time.”

The plane continued swaying its hips in the wind. In the back of my mind, my flashcards were cycling. Unfortunately, Kiki sat too far away to reach either my hand or Mr. Dickens.

The pilot spoke a garbled message on the intercom, prompting one of the jumpers to roll away the Plexiglas door, the only thing separating us from a 2 1/2 mile drop. Mad Dog patted my side, signaling me to rise.

We were the first ones. We walked to the gaping doorway, where I saw sporadic clouds, one of the propeller engines nearby, and far, far below, the squares and lines of civilization scraped into the earth. The plane seemed to bob through the air.

I decided I had to warn him. “Listen to me, you’re in danger! We have incredibly bad luck. She’s a klutz, and I may be too!”

With the rushing of wind in our faces, I couldn’t tell if I made my point. Mad Dog said, “Good idea!” We tumbled out of the aircraft, into space.

I didn’t have time to tell Kiki I loved her, only to meet her eyes as I disappeared.

Spinning, somersaulting, the world turned into a kaleidoscope. In a few seconds we settled into our freefall. It was like lying down in a 180 mile per hour hurricane. It went on and on. They said that the freefall was only supposed to last a minute. I was certain now that it lasted for several. Any time now he’s going to pull the shoot, I told myself. We sped past fuzzy cloud after fuzzy cloud. Any time now, any time now. Or maybe not.

Finally, the jerk of the parachute deploying.

Now I caught my breath. For the first time I felt safe, like we were under some semblance of control. Under the canopy, all was peaceful and colorful. Now I was really sightseeing, eyeing the great green squares of Illinois farms stretching in every direction to the horizon. It was so serene that we could have a conversation, Mad Dog and I.

“There she is.” Mad Dog banked sharply, making my stomach lurch. “Your sign. How you like it?”

Then I saw it below, stretched across a corner of the grass landing field:


On the whole, I was pleased. Pleased by the way sign was spread, and pleased that the message was so visible. Pleased to have reached that point in my scheme, still alive. I did notice from here, however, that there was extra room on the bottom right corner beside my name, where I could have told the print shop to add a long-stemmed rose, something nice. That’s the way my mind works.

But I was not allowed to stew on it. A chilling gust of wind blew us back. Our legs swung. By the minute, the menacing sky was bearing down on us. The heavy steel-colored clouds joined shoulder-to-shoulder and descended.

Suddenly we whipped around on a dime, then we whipped around again. Tight turns, violent turns. Turns that flopped my body like a rag doll, wrenching my stomach away from the grip of gravity. My mind raced. My lungs gasped the clammy air. Were we out of control?

“Legs out, mate. Here we go!”

And there, suddenly, was the green field snapping into frame. We swooped in, grass coming into focus and flying past us on all sides. Oh boy.

Like that, we were down, on the mark, right beside my oversized banner sprawled on the grass. We were a huffing, four-legged, two-headed beast–half of which needed a shave and half of which was glad to be alive–standing over a deflated nylon parachute.

“Well, that was some fun, eh? My instructions were to bring you down, pronto.” Mad Dog patted my shoulder. “Good on ya, skydiver! Now let’s get you unhooked. You have company coming in.”

It was only a few seconds before we were free of the rig, and one of the staff who had joined us on the field pointed out Kiki and her instructor circling a couple hundred feet overhead. She was either being attacked or she was ecstatic, because we could hear her shrieking all the way on the ground.

The wind was snapping the flags on the field. The storm was coming. My fingers remained crossed all the way until they touched down, easy as pie, not 100 feet away. Kiki hopped in place almost like she had to go to the bathroom, and in a moment was set free and ran into my arms.

“Yes, yes, yes, you sneaky boy, yes!” Her arms and legs squeezed me. The engagement ring lay forgotten in my pocket.

People crowded around us, congratulating, laughing, snapping pictures. It was the happiest moment of my life.

My banner leapt into the air and twisted downfield. A dark blue storm loomed across the plain.

Gary called out. “Group shot. Hurry!”

As the happy gathering posed on the field, a bolt of lightning flashed behind us.

“I caught it! That’s going to be a killer shot.”

Before we ran to shelter, Kiki realized she hadn’t thanked her instructor, and rushed over to him. The blonde guy was on one knee, gathering his rig. He turned to stand and Kiki smacked into this helmet.

Her mouth squirmed back and forth a few times, then hatched a grin. “I chipped my tooth.”

# # #

Being engaged felt like we were playing house.

Kiki was a real trouper. “I’ll follow you anywhere. Even to Yablonski.” That was my last name. Kiki liked that both her names would end in “i.”

I let my apartment go, long overdue. A couple times, I even spoke to the mysterious parents on the phone. Not that any of that mattered much.

Whether choreographing epic karate fights using every room in the apartment, or pumpkin seed spitting contests to see who got to be on top that night, we simply liked being together. We liked being attuned. Sometimes in a private moment I would feel a whiff of suspicion, because I was pretty sure the Garden of Eden wasn’t on Diversey. But what could I do? I couldn’t control life. I let it happen.

When I received the strange phone call then, half of me collapsed in a yawning, screeching chasm. The other half, I distinctly remember, thought, Of course.

Killed by falling ice, the policeman said, I’m sorry. It was only November, so none of the yellow warning signs were out on the sidewalks, the ones that Chicagoans are used to hurrying past or ignoring completely.

My research showed that authorities keep no official count in the mortality records, except that, of all American cities, Chicago suffers a handful of casualties every year from icicles falling from 1000-foot skyscrapers.

Of course. It wasn’t that she was a klutz. It was more fundamental than that. After all, Kiki never technically broke the terms of her Probation. Rule Number 3 was No other shit like that. It was 2 Prudential Tower that broke that rule. But none of the causation mattered because good things simply do not last. Life sees that this is so.

To me, it was a sour joke. I had nothing but contempt for any world that was run like this one. How could so much energy and life and brightness simply vanish? Really, from the Third Law of Thermodynamics I knew that energy never disappears–it transfers or transmutes. Thus, Kiki became a whisper of heat released into a world that barely noticed her, that certainly didn’t deserve her. What increases is entropy, chaos, confusion. A world without Kiki was a pile shit.

Life is capricious. Life schemes. Once again, I was alone.

Kiki’s family made minimal contact with me. Cold, inscrutable, they got her body, they got her things. (I let them take whatever they wanted. They left the framed photo of us with the purple lightning bolt.) They flew back on a private jet to Minnesota. It was a business transaction. I didn’t inquire about the service.

The apartment was barren and quiet. Every day. I filled my waking hours with mechanical things: work, weights, martial arts. My mind could not concentrate on reading or watching. I was back in my cell, in my world of black and white.

Evenings, I would remember the oasis that was my short time with her. Kiki had appeared like a comet: fleeting, beautiful, legendary. Comet Kiki. I slept with my head on her side of the bed.

When I couldn’t sleep, I pulled on my coat and boots and I walked the city. To the north, south, west and east, I walked everywhere. Those weekends when I couldn’t work were the worst. I could be walking at any time during the day or night. Outside of work, I had become silent. So, it was with a monk’s determination and detached eye that I marched for mile after mile after mile. Observing but always going on and onward. I think now that I was haunted. I was driven by my soul to the very end of nowhere.

On one of my mad excursions, I found myself among the kitchy shops of North Broadway, closed for the night. I diverted myself a few blocks west, to the alley behind Roscoe where (it must be more than two years ago, I thought) life took such a strange detour.

It was around the holidays and I was hollow inside. Snow was falling like on that night, and even before I turned the corner I could hear the baboon-like echoes of late-night partygoers from some balcony down the alley.

When I entered the alley, the first thing I saw was the small streetlight between the buildings, still there as it was before, shining down with its bluish-white light illuminating the cone of falling snowflakes. It stopped me in my tracks. I wiped my nose with my wrist and caught my breath. I didn’t know why I was getting choked up like in a Christmas movie. I shook myself and got walking.

Hunching my shoulders against the snowfall and the nearby sounds of drunken merriment, I trudged a direct line through the alleyway. The laughter of young women, once one of the most beautiful sounds in the world, now pierced me through the heart and hastened my march. But in spite of my will, my legs slowed on their own.

I grimaced at that dumpster. The lid was flipped open, as it was on that fateful night. The balcony, third floor, loomed dark and deserted overhead. Tonight’s boisterous party was elsewhere. The dumpster itself stood in a different spot: either that, or the fall had been more improbable that I ever realized. The entire episode was freakish. How the hell was I even there for it? What the fuck was I doing there now?

I kicked the dumpster. Stupid, I know, but I was moving on. For good.

Before I could, however, I heard a faint rustling sound. I drew up to the edge of the dumpster and looked inside. There was something stirring inside. A cat, possum, maybe a rat? All kinds of crazy things in the city. I threw aside a cloth and ducked out of the way.

Nothing jumped out at me, so I peered inside. Something was definitely there, but it was tiny. Mice, most likely. Couldn’t be a snake, not in this weather. Now curiosity was getting to me. I reached in to move away another cloth.

My heart jumped into my throat. It was a baby!

For a moment I had the shakes. Thankfully, my hand thought on its own and brought out the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, listen, I found a baby here, outside, in the cold, in the garbage. There’s blood, but it’s alive. I’m in the alley south of Roscoe, between Kenmore and Seminary.” I answered the man’s questions while I paced and held the infant close for heat.

When I hung up, my breath seemed to have left me along with my last word. My mouth was open but I couldn’t draw breath. I was crying, crying uncontrollably, while I wrapped myself around the baby in the night.

I was in better control when the medic hopped out of his truck and took the baby from me. “Take me with you. I’m going with you.”

He looked at the baby, then at my coat. It was matted with blood.

I whipped off my coat and threw it in the dumpster. “I’m going with you.”

“In the front. Belt in.”

At Children’s Memorial, we learned that Baby Doe was a Hispanic girl only a couple of hours old, hungry and cold but otherwise healthy. No leads on the mother, according to the detective at the scene. In a way, I was pleased. My heart had already laid claim to her.

September 2018
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