Author’s Note: This story is an original work of fiction, the third in a series of stories expected to include several parts; it is recommended the reader first reads parts one and two. Future additional spin-off stories starring some or all of these characters might also be forthcoming based upon response and demand. Certain characters featured herein may also be found in other works by the authors. Feedback is desired and greatly appreciated. Email comments to the address in our profile. Thank you for reading.

Copyright 2011 by Jack and Josephine Cutter.

This story stars: Adam Cross, Holli Coverton, Michelle Johnson, and Kelsey Cartwright, and features Tiffany McCullough, Dave Cartwright, Benjamin Lane, Heather James, Lindy Mills, Eduardo Moreno, Jessica Barnes, Tim Simmons, and Josie Haynes.

This story contains: male-female erotic coupling, male-female-female erotic coupling, cunnilingus and fellatio, anal and analingus, threesomes, closet masturbation, heroic flashbacks, sex addicts, teenage eavesdropping, jealous boyfriends, and a dream sequence.

This story begins post-prologue on Saturday, October 08.

* * * * *

The night they first met, she dismissed his advances. She was tired of men—stupid boys, as she called them—and the complications engendered thereby.

It was fortunate circumstance what brought them together in the first place, as many of these things usually are: a Lakers game, two unrelated pairs of tickets, four seats in a row, Jocelyn and her sister, Adam and an old friend named Ricky, and Jocelyn and Adam seated by merest chance in the two middle seats, next to each other. He was so struck at first sight by her beauty, he said nothing to her for the entire first quarter, and did not even look at her beyond that obligatory greeting smile when she first arrived.

He tried some small talk in the second quarter, having built up his nerve and having been encouraged by Ricky—who was quite comfortable with the ladies and had a girlfriend of his own at the time—but was rebuffed, politely, each try. At halftime, he offered to bring both Jocelyn and Jessica back drinks, a simple offer, no pressure, and while Jessica was clearly happy about the idea, Jocelyn said, politely, “No, thank you.”

In the third quarter, he casually mentioned a play from the game, an exciting dunk, and left the statement hanging in hopes that she might respond, but no response came and the silence was deafening. When the fourth quarter rolled around, Adam had pretty much given up hope. The Lakers were up by twenty and the game was not very exciting, and Ricky was still grinning at his failed attempts, and so he threw caution to the wind and said, “I’m sorry for bothering you all night. It’s not every day a man sits next to a beautiful woman. It tends to make fools of us.”

Jocelyn did not respond right away—in fact, she hardly looked at him—but from the other side of her, Jessica giggled. Adam remembered that sound, half-sympathy, half-amusement, and he always wondered if, because of that one laugh, Jocelyn had felt a little sorry for him. She turned, their eyes met, and she opened her mouth to speak.

The rest was history.

Chapter 05: Ten-Forty-Two

There are some men who know what they want and know how to get it; Dave Cartwright was just such a man. He was thirty-one years old, successful and handsome, with more money than he knew what to do with, which meant that, in addition to knowing what and how, he had the resources—and ambitions—to accomplish his pursuits.

He did have some positive traits. He gave generously to charities and held the door open for old ladies. He always thanked his mailman or other hard-working service people and never swore in front of his mother. He escorted blind men across streets. He worked very hard at his job.

He was also selfish and self-serving, with a foul mouth in private company and little thought for concepts of morality—his notion of right versus wrong fell into what could only be considered a vast, amorphous gray area. For example, Dave was utterly unfaithful as a husband; he would not hesitate to commit adultery if the opportunity was there, nor flinch in the slightest if the woman he was sleeping with was married herself.

For all intents and purposes, what is important to know is that when it came to his sex life, Dave Cartwright would fuck any half-decent-looking woman he could find.

That said, Dave would nonetheless report that he was very happy with his relationship. He got along well with his wife after more than a year of marriage, although in truth it was easy to get along with someone who was calm, cool, and collected, not to mention adventurous and decidedly low-maintenance. She was also quite easy to deceive, perhaps because she was so independent herself, and much of his own happiness was derived from her obliviousness regarding his extra-curricular activities and the true conduct of his character. Lastly, she was devastatingly attractive—vital as far as Dave was concerned—and with her gorgeous face and mouth-watering body, his wife would have made one hell of a stripper.

Dave would know: lap dances were one of his favorite hobbies.

His wife was not likely to take up that profession, however; Kelsey Cartwright used her physical charms to great effect as a residential real estate agent—between her excellent income and his own, they would never have to worry about money.

Dave was lounging around their expensive condo in Santa Monica, sprawled out on the couch watching college football highlights. It was a rare Saturday night with nothing to do, Kelsey was not home yet from a weekend house showing, and he was not very inventive when it came to entertaining himself, which meant Dave was bored.

Which is why he was happy when he heard the front door open and the voice of his wife echo over the hardwood floors. She was quite obviously on the phone, probably talking to one of her cluster of close friends.

“He did what!” Kelsey sounded excited and astounded, and her voice was breathless. “How? Where? Did anyone see you?”

“Hi, babe,” Dave called out as she rounded the corner and her light brown eyes fell upon him. They narrowed and she did not respond, and her voice dropped to a whisper as she marched purposefully back into the bedroom.

Clearly, she was not happy with him—Kelsey was not the type to beat around that bush. He’d been out late the night before and had hardly seen her in two days, which probably had something to do with it, but it was nothing a few sweet nothings and a little make-up sex could not overcome. In fact, he thought, a good hard fuck would liven up the night nicely, and he still had plenty of juice despite getting a blowjob the night before, courtesy of some college slut.

When Kelsey returned a few moments later, Dave’s excitement shot straight into the realm of significant lust: the beautiful woman was wore only her panties and bra, which put on prominent display her fantastic figure.

At twenty-eight, Kelsey was still as hot as she’d been at eighteen. Her lovely face was topped by dark red hair that fell about her head and shoulders, highlighted by those expressive light brown eyes. Her features were fine, her skin smooth and bronzed, and her teeth pearly white, but it was her body which set the woman apart from her competitors: her breasts were huge and round and real—32DD, as Dave knew and often revealed—her stomach was flat, her legs were long and lean, and her ass was a slice of apple-shaped perfection.

And here Kelsey was on glorious display, her butt swishing back-and-forth as she walked past him and into the kitchen. Moments later, she returned with a bottled water and went back into the bedroom, which was her usual signal that she wanted sex. Dave knew her little signs; he was going to get lucky with his own personal pussy tonight. She was smoldering hot, and she was all his—he knew that no matter how egregious his own infidelities, as long as she remained ignorant she would never cheat herself, and it was nice, as he often said, to know that there was at least one hot pussy in the world reserved only for him.

He rose from the couch and went into the bedroom, but found that Kelsey had already gotten into the shower and was cleansing herself. “Want me to join you, babe?” he asked with a cheeky grin on his face as he poked his head into the bathroom.

“No,” she replied, simply and without trace of emotion.

Dave frowned. He had expected her to say yes. “Ok, I’ll just wait for you in the bedroom.”

“You do that,” she called.

Dave plopped down on the bed and waited, and ended up waiting for nearly thirty minutes. By the time she emerged from the bathroom, he was at the end of reading an entire Sports Illustrated magazine, and this from a guy who did not like to read.

The wait, however, was worth it.

Kelsey was completely naked. Her breasts jiggled as she walked, the pink of her nipples shriveled into little points and the soft swath of red hair between her legs neatly groomed. It was a marvelous sight to behold, and despite all the sex he got on the side, the sight of his wife’s nude flesh never ceased to excite him.

Dave was now achingly hard, but he did not mind the pain, knowing it would soon be alleviated; Kelsey would only flaunt herself so when trying to turn him on. Despite the cold front she was putting up, she had to be horny.

She moved through the bedroom and into the closet, and closed the door behind her, which was strange. Dave figured, after a moment of contemplation, that she was going to surprise him with some hot little outfit or lingerie get-up, which she often liked to do.

And so he waited . . . and waited . . . and waited.

Fifteen minutes later, she still had not emerged from the closet. Dave was still semi-hard, but it had wilted considerably, and the excited grin had curved down into a frown. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a female moan.

Dave rose, wondering just what the hell was happening, and moved to the closet door; so close, it was easy to hear the moans of his wife from within. He officially had no idea what was going on, and so he opened the door and looked inside.

What he saw both shocked and aroused him to great degree.

Kelsey was on the carpeted floor of the closet with a dildo shoved inside her pussy. She was on her knees with her ass was in the air, her shoulders down against the ground, one arm splayed off to the side while the other was curled up from between her legs, working the dildo in and out, deeper and deeper. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin, her limbs trembled with pleasure, her brilliant red hair was pooled around her hair, her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open as she panted and moaned. Clearly, she was nearing orgasm.

“What the fuck?” Dave asked.

Kelsey opened her eyes and looked up at her husband, and said in a voice that wavered with the pleasure she was giving herself, but held beneath a fiercely rigid resolve, “Do you mind? I’m about to cum.”

And so she did.

Her words trailed off into a wail as the orgasm crashed over her, her limbs quaking violently as her pussy twitched around the invasive plastic cylinder. The wails turned to whimpers and her airborne ass toppled over to the carpet as she pulled the saturated dildo past her pink folds.

Dave watched his wife creaming herself with an utterly flabbergasted look upon his face. If she had wanted to cum, why had she not just fucked him?

Kelsey opened her eyes again and saw him still standing there, watching her. “Do you mind?” she said in that same tone that balanced the edge of the knife so subtlety. “I’m trying to enjoy my afterglow.”

And so Dave left and closed the door behind him—wondering all the while exactly what it was that she was mad at him about, because she had to be mad about something to be acting the way she was—and headed for the bathroom in search of a cold shower.

At that particular moment, there was nothing he needed more.

* * *

The manager of the Café Montenegro in Beverly Hills was a man named Eduardo Moreno, and he had managed of that establishment for more than twenty years. It was a glamorous and ritzy restaurant, well-decorated with deep, dark colors, and catered to a clientele that was famous and wealthy and powerful, and often times more things even than those. It was nearly impossible to get a reservation; tables were books weeks in advance. Wait times for those with reservations were known to exceed two hours. This was due in large part to the walk-in business of the famous, who were always granted tables immediately, and part of the layperson’s experience at Café Montenegro was said layperson’s close proximity to such people.

Which is why it came to no surprise on that particular Saturday night when a handsome young man with two beautiful young women draped on his arms walked with supreme confidence through the door, announced he did not have a reservation but was looking to be seated, and was taken instantly back by Eduardo himself to one of the more secluded booths.

An older man who had waited several weeks to bring his wife to the restaurant, as well as forty-five minutes past his intended reservation time—but who had now witnessed a handful of stars, starlets, and politicos breeze in and out of the place, and was incredibly happy for that reason—leaned over and whispered to his wife, “That person must be famous.”

And as the party of three walked through the primary dining room, heads turned to watch them pass, even the heads of the famous and powerful, for it was not every day that Eduardo himself escorted parties back to their tables, which meant this particular man had to be a really big deal.

Which also explained why the women on his arms were insanely beautiful. On his right arm was a goddess, a statuesque beauty with flowing chestnut hair that fell in rivers over her shoulders and two blazingly bright blue eyes. She wore a form-fitting black dress cut low in a curve in the front and lower to a point in the back: ample amounts of cleavage were visible, as well as almost the entire sleek track of her spine. On his left arm was another gorgeous specimen of femininity, a little blonde bombshell in a pure white dress that left little to the imagination. Her blonde hair cascaded off her head like an explosion, her skin was golden brown, and her eyes were also big and bright and blue. While her breasts were not as large as her counterparts, they were huge for her petite size and looked like mountains rising from her chest. The white dress was short and barely covered her rump, which left her toned and tantalizing legs on excellent display.

Eduardo escorted the man and his guests back to the table that was reserved for only the highest of profile guests. It was a booth in one of the back corners of the restaurant with a curtain that closed to effectively shut out all possible viewing. He smiled as they walked; heads were watching their little procession with amazingly curious expressions. He wondered if they would be disappointed if they knew the truth.

And the truth of the matter was that the man Eduardo was escorting was not famous, nor wealthy, nor powerful. His name was Adam Cross and there were few beyond the circle of his friends who would know that name.

Eduardo, however, knew that name; it was the name of the man Eduardo had thanked and thanked and thanked again in his prayers every day for the past five years. He remembered the moment like yesterday . . .

. . . Sarah was a precocious young girl, always prone to getting herself into trouble, but her father loved her dearly. Her mother passed away eight years earlier—when Sarah was just five years old—but out of tragedy grew a deep bond between father and daughter; they were best friends.

Which is why when they were standing one day at the far end of the pier in Santa Monica and a mob of unruly young boys chasing each other around crashed into them, sending his beloved daughter Sarah hurtling over the side and into the churning waters below—on a day when there were tide warnings, heavy wind, and big waves—the whole of Eduardo’s existence flashed before his eyes, for he could not swim and could not hope to save her.

And he remembered the scream that ripped then from his throat in that moment, when all was lost, which was described to him afterward as the purest sound of agonized fear ever created.

And he remembered the crowd of people who rushed for him, not understanding that his little girl was drowning beneath their feet.

And he remembered the soft voice that spoke urgently in his ear by the one person attentive enough to have recognized what happened, a voice that said, “Don’t worry. I’ll bring her back.”

And he remembered looking up into the face of Adam Cross in that moment, the moment just before the man plunged over the side of the pier after his daughter, risking death of his own, and seeing in the man’s eyes such a calm resolve that immediately Eduardo knew that everything would be all right.

And he remembered the moment when Adam emerged from the waters below, Sarah clutching tightly to his chest, frightened but unharmed in every way that mattered, and the moment when Adam returned Eduardo’s daughter to him.

And he remembered in that moment his solemn vow to forever help and support the young man standing before him, whom he would come to learn was only nineteen years old, and who from that moment would be considered a part of their family.

* * *

Adam Cross let the ladies take their seats, which allowed him time to linger a moment with Eduardo before he sat down.

“How’s Sarah?” he asked with a smile.

Eduardo beamed. “Excelente, my friend,” he replied. “She graduates in June and starts UCLA in the fall. She earned early acceptance! She wanted to stay close to home, you know.” His voice dropped softer then, for he was to broach a subject that hurt them all. “I am happy you have come, Adam. I have not seen you since the funeral. Sarah misses you.”

Adam nodded. “I’ve been away too long. Tell her I’ll come to dinner one of these nights soon, ok? I promise.”

“I will tell her, she will be very excited,” Eduardo said, then grinned. “Now, let me leave you to these two beautiful ladies. You will have to tell me the story of them over dinner another time.”

Adam grinned right back. “Indeed,” he replied, and took his seat.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, mister,” said Holli Coverton with an arched eyebrow. She was impressed and amused in equal measure; it was not often someone she knew was on speaking terms with the manager of Café Montenegro, and could walk in without a reservation.

“No wonder you like him,” said Michelle Johnson, Holli’s girlfriend and lover. She’d only met Adam a few minutes earlier.

Adam shrugged. “We’re old friends,” he replied.

Holli did not buy it. “There is more to it than that,” she said. “When we walked in, his face lit up like he’d seen an angel from heaven. You’re a very interesting man, Adam Cross.”

“Cute, too,” said Michelle.

“There is more,” Adam admitted, “but that’s a story saved for another time and place. I’ve wanted to meet Michelle for several days, and now that I finally have her in person, nothing will stop me from telling her how beautiful she is.”

Michelle giggled.

“See what I mean, sweetie?” Holli said.

“He does seem to know how to use his mouth,” the blonde replied thoughtfully.

“You have no idea,” Holli said with a laugh.

And so the dinner progressed and the conversation flowed, and three new friends came to know each other better—very much liking all the various avenues they explored—and in the back of each of their minds was the thought that theirs would be a friendship to last a long time to come.

* * *

Benjamin Lane was amazed by the world of endless possibilities opened up to him by Dave Cartwright and Trent McCullough. There was pussy everywhere, and readily available if only one knew where and how to find it. His guilty conscience weighed on him briefly—but then two young sluts in Vegas spread their legs, and from that point on Ben went with the flow.

One week and three girls later, Ben was fucked-out. His fiancée had imposed a two-month moratorium on sex just before he left for Vegas, wanting to remain modestly pure in the eight weeks before the wedding, and while he fought the idea at first, he now considered it an incredibly good idea—he would have little fluid left for her at this point, if she wanted some.

Which is why it was nice to relax at her apartment that particular Saturday night, buzzing on red wine and watching a movie. It was one of the more recent James Bond films—Ben was unsure which one—and the scene on the screen involved Bond seducing a married woman.

Heather had been quiet all night long. In fact, she’d hardly said two words together since he’d arrived an hour earlier. She had not objected when he suggested the movie, not objected when he pulled out the wine, and not objected when he plopped down into her comfortable leather recliner, rather than sit next to her on the couch.

It was somewhat surprising, therefore, when she turned, fixed him with a very serious stare, and spoke for the first time. “Would you do that?” she asked.

“Huh?” Ben was not sure what she was talking about..

She nodded at the screen. “Sleep with a married woman,” Heather said.

Ben grinned. “Of course,” he said, feeling quite happy with his cleverness. “I plan on sleeping with a married woman every night in a couple of months!”

It was a good line, but Heather was not amused by it. “Would you cheat on me?”

Ben’s grin vanished. This caught him off-guard; he needed time to think. “With a married woman?” he asked, acting confused.

“With any woman,” she quickly countered.

Which brought him to a moment he had worried about ever since he first pushed his cock into Kara, the blonde Vegas stripper—the moment Heather would first ask him about other women.

It was a moment Dave and Trent seemed to think would come and go quickly, and easily; once you experienced their lifestyle, all notions of right and wrong as it related to sex were turned upside-down. Ben, however, had not known whether he would be able to look his girlfriend in the eye and diffuse the situation, as his friends called it.

But like everything else they taught him, it proved a piece of cake—his eye did not flicker, nor his voice waver, as he looked at Heather and said, “Sweetheart, I love you. Of course not.”

And Heather stared at his face for a long moment with narrowed eyes before she turned back to the television and continued with the movie, and Ben smiled inwardly with the knowledge that he had cruised past the trouble spot and diffused the situation.

Of course, he could not have been more wrong.

* * *

The Marina Point condominium complex was one of the more upscale buildings in Marina Del Rey, or even the city of Los Angeles itself, if one were to really investigate the matter. The condos were well-designed and spacious, and the building amenities—workout room, sauna, pool, valet service, etcetera—were top-notch.

There was also ample security, in the form of twenty-four-seven video surveillance throughout and a team of security guards at various spots in and around the building, of which the two most visible were the men seated at the guard desk in the middle of the lavish entrance hall.

Davonne had been working the guard desk for three months now, and it was a good job. Low risk, relatively good pay, good benefits—and a nonstop parade of ass. The denizens of the complex were mostly affluent, many of whom were single older men, and the women they brought back for their various pleasures never ceased to amaze him. Davonne could not fathom sometimes how beauty some of the women were.

Of course, few held candles to the women in Ten-Forty-Two.

Miss Coverton and Miss Johnson were young, gorgeous, and in love with each other—lesbians, that is—which was just about the hottest thing Davonne could imagine. They were a frequent topic of conversation among the security staff; any reason to assist the women at their home prompted an all-out bidding war, and the complex weight room was the choicest assignment as the two women frequently worked out, often together. They were not seen much in the entrance hall, sadly enough, as condo owners had a separate entrance.

Which is why Davonne was delighted to see a limousine roll around the drop-off circle outside, the door open, and the beautiful blonde Miss Johnson emerge from within. He nearly fell off his chair—she wore a short white dress that seemed almost sprayed onto her body and offered a generous display of bronzed flesh. When Miss Coverton slipped from the depths of the limo on the heels of her lesbian lover, Davonne gave up trying to hold back his raging erection—her black dress was just as tight and just as sexy as the white one. It was at this point that a third person emerged, following the ladies, and Davonne’s jaw dropped.

It was a man.

The security staff had been talking about the man who’d visited Ten-Forty-Two some nights earlier, but the group had passed the notion off as an acquaintance of some sort. There had not been a single man up to the condo in the two years the women had lived there, beyond two older men known to be the fathers of the women.

This man was clearly not their fathers, nor was he just an everyday acquaintance. He was young and handsome, and dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, and once all three were out and ready, the girls latched onto each arm, snuggling closer, as the man escorted them inside.

“Hello, Davonne,” Miss Johnson sighed as the trio passed by.

Davonne did not even try to hide his amazement. He nodded, then stammered, “Miss Johnson, Miss Coverton. Have a good night.”

Miss Coverton giggled. “We intend to,” she said, and the way she said left little to Davonne’s imagination. His raging erection was harder than ever.

He watched them go, watched their beautiful backsides as the rounded the corner and moved out of sight, and it was at this point that Jerry, his partner at the security desk, returned from the restroom and took his seat beside Davonne, and noticed immediately the slack-jawed expression.

“What happened?” the man asked. “Did I miss something?”

Davonne swallowed, hard, and said hoarsely, “I’m taking my break.”

Which is exactly what he did, and release was swift in coming.

* * *

It began, as it had before, with wine.

Three glasses and a bottle of 2006 Duckhorn Estate Cabernet Sauvignon, to be exact. The girls were already buzzing off the wine from dinner, and neither was a particularly heavy drinker to begin with, so the group recognized one bottle would be more than enough for them all.

There was light conversation as they sipped their drinks, settled in the main room with the ladies upon the couch and Adam in a comfortable chair. It was pleasant and enjoyable, but carried with it a significant undercurrent of tension, a slow-building anticipation of where the night would take them, of what they all knew was coming next.

The ladies finished their glasses at the same time, sharing a glance over the rims as they did so. Adam set his own glass down and rose from his seat, saying, “Let me fill those for you.” He moved forward, intending to do just that.

“Stop,” Holli said quietly, and Adam stopped.

The ladies set their glasses down and looked at him, standing before them in the center of the room upon a very fine rug that he could not remember being there before. There was a smile upon Holli’s face, a smile Adam knew well at this point, but there was no smile upon the face of her lover, Michelle—only expressionless intensity and more than a little hunger.

The girls exchanged another glance, longer this time, before Holli trained her eyes upon him once again. “In the short time we’ve known each other, Adam,” she said, and there was a special sort of sincerity to her voice that seemed to carry, surprisingly, no sexual tones, “I’ve come to value your friendship a great deal. You’re a good man, one of the best. I truly hope you know I mean it when I say how much you mean to me, and how much I think you will come to mean to us. I’m happy you’re here with us, to share what I think will be a special moment for us all.”

Holli rose to her feet, and despite having seen her all night long, Adam’s breath caught at the sight of her: statuesque and beautiful, chestnut hair cascading from her head, eyes as bright and blue as the summer sky, and a body hot enough to ignite the flames of war, stuffed at present into a black dress showing an almost scandalous amount of flesh. She extended her hand and Michelle took it, and joined her on her feet—and scandalous, indeed, was the best word to describe the gorgeous blue-eyed blonde in the skimpy white dress. The two were a study in contrasts, and yet so very similar in all essentials. It had not taken Adam long at dinner to realize that the two girls were perfect for each other.

“It’s been a long time for Michelle,” Holli continued, her tone the same, “but she is ready. You are the first man we’ve brought into our home, the first we’ve ever spoken of in such ways, and the first we’ve considered a trusted friend. We are ready, but we ask that you follow our lead. This is new territory for us, no matter how long we’ve fantasized about it.”

“I understand,” Adam said softly, with a smile equally soft.

Michelle spoke next, her voice as light as her honey blonde hair, but heavy with lust that she did not even bother trying to conceal. “You’re such a sweetie,” she purred, “but once we get started, I’ll expect a little less gentleman out of you, sir.”

Adam grinned. “I understand,” he repeated, and felt his blood begin to pulse.

“Please,” Holli said, and now her voice was laden, too, with lust, “don’t move.”

He did not need to respond, and the ladies were not looking for it. They stepped forward, breaking their hand-holding to move to either side of him—close, but not too close. He was straight-legged, standing tall, unmoving despite the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing to his crotch; this would be, interestingly enough given Jocelyn’s own well-disguised appetites, his first such encounter.

They did not touch him at first, but rather set about circling him—he expected this was ostensibly to ease Michelle into the idea her first man in years, not that she needed easing with the look upon her face. One full turn around him later, once back into their original positions, they finally reached out and put their hands on him.

Only to slowly set about relieving him of his three-piece tuxedo. They were slow and methodical, working very much in unison with synchronized movements, not applying to much pressure or caressing anything out of turn, but in moments his jacket, vest, tie, and dress shirt were discarded, leaving him bare-chested and dressed only in a pair of black slacks.

They set to circling him again, but this time their hands were active upon him, caressing his chest and the broad shoulders of his back, lightly and only with their fingertips. Their touch was so soft, it was almost like feathers dragged across his skin, and felt wonderful.

And then they moved closer, closing the distance between them, and suddenly Adam was surrounded on both sides by nothing but gorgeous female, chestnut to his left, blonde to his right. Holli’s arms wrapped around his shoulders as she pressed herself against him, and he turned his head and tilted down to meet her raised, expectant lips. Michelle was not one to sit idly by as the others kissed—she slid her left arm around his lower back and peppered a series of her own kisses upon the skin of his shoulder, neck, and collarbone.

For the first time in a long time when faced with a sexual situation, Adam swooned and struggled to keep his knees from buckling. Two beautiful bisexual women were eager to pleasure him, and be pleasured by him, and for a moment he worried he would not be up to the challenge. He felt a significant responsibility, given all Holli had said and the knowledge that this was not something these girls did every day, and did not want to disappoint them.

And so he slapped himself, mentally, and told himself to focus—and to enjoy what was coming as he enjoyed all his experiences, and he smiled into Holli’s mouth.

The lovely blue-eyed woman noticed, and pulled back. “What’s so funny?” she asked with a playful smile touching the corners of her own lips.

“Nothing,” he replied, “and everything. I’m happy I’m here.”

Those blue eyes softened. “We’re happy, too,” she said sweetly, then her eyes narrowed and she added, “but I believe my little honey said no more nice guy.”

It was time to bring out the big guns, Adam decided, and grinned. “You want it,” he stated flatly, and firmly as he grabbed the back of Holli’s head, “you got it.”

Adam forced her forward, hungrily capturing her lips in his once more. His tongue slithered into her mouth, probing, searching, sweeping over teeth and lips and dueling with its better half. He could feel Michelle kissing her way up his neck, her lips like the faintest brush strokes of an artist at the easel, but she surprised him when she kept going all the way up to the line of his jaw, and then further still.

The blonde beach bunny leaned in and planted her lips next to Holli’s, and suddenly Adam found a pair of tasty pink tongues in his mouth. The ladies exploded, their mouths working frenetically all at once against his own, and each other. Several seconds passed of zealous spit-swapping before the frenzy of the triple-kiss lessened, and soon the three found themselves in an open air licking contest. Grinning, Holli and Michelle flicked their tongues at each other.

Adam’s hands were positively itching and it was time to do something about it. He reached out with his left hand, slipped it beneath the bottom of the black dress, and clutched at Holli’s supple rump, squeezing and kneading the delectable flesh. Not wanting his newer acquaintance to feel left out, however, he also slid his right hand around the blonde’s tiny waist and down, under the white dress to the smooth, round skin beneath.

Michelle sighed and pushed back against his palm, and Adam massaged the luscious bottoms of both girls as they continued their tandem assault upon his chin and neck and cheeks and mouth, sprinkling a sugary barrage of licks, nibbles, and kisses upon him. It was impossible for him to say which of the two bottoms felt better—they were both round and taut, and exceptional.

A half-moan, half-sigh escaped his lips and Holli and Michelle giggled in unison at the sound. He drew his head back, needing to catch his breath after such a deep kiss with two women at once, but the girls required no such pause—their mouths immediately closed the distance between each other, and Adam was treated to one of the most erotic sights of his life.

They were aware of him watching them, and while Holli and Michelle were quite familiar with one another, they took their time to let him relish it. Their lips met softly at first, almost chastely, but that moment did not last and soon their tongues were involved, licking and slurping each other with lusty delight. Adam was impossibly hard, watching their little show.

Soon, they separated and Holli glanced over at him. The grin was still on her face. “You see why I can’t get enough of Michelle,” she said, planting a tender kiss of the blonde woman’s cheek. “I know you’re just going to love her. She’s such a hottie, and she has the tightest little butt.”

“My love is such a lovely woman,” Michelle chirped in response, pressing her wet lips to Holli’s cheek to return the favor, “a hot, sexy, slutty, lovely woman. She loves your cock, you know. She tells me about it constantly. But now it’s my turn.”

Adam felt the very object of her words lurch in his pants. The ladies both noticed, as well, and Michelle snickered as her delicate hand reached down and cupped the bulge.

“Mmmm,” she murmured as she massaged him gently through his dark slacks, “it feels big.”

“See for yourself, my love,” the buxom chestnut-haired beauty replied, as she slipped down to her knees. Her fingers deftly undid his belt and zipper, and in a flash the slacks were down around his ankles. She pulled off his shoes and socks and tugged the pants off the rest of the way, leaving him in only his boxer shorts.

Michelle looked up at him and their eyes met, her bright blue eyes wide with excitement. “May I?” she asked breathlessly.

Adam nodded, and those two blue pools went immediately back to his crotch as she, too, went to her knees. Michelle’s delicate hands came up and took hold of the elastic band of his underwear. Slowly, waveringly, she tugged them down from their place to reveal what lay beneath, and her breath caught as the whole of him came into view.

“It’s been a long time,” Holli whispered, with a comforting hand on Michelle’s shoulder.

Michelle nodded, her eyes wide as saucers, and inches from his cock. “Too long,” she whispered back, as her tongue flicked absently across her lips. Her hand came forward once more, but this time there was no waver as she wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft, and squeezed.

The feeling was exquisite and hardly anything had happened yet; Adam was certainly affected by the mentality of the situation, being the first male in a long time to have experienced the touch of the lovely Michelle, who met his gaze again.

“You like?” she asked with a grin that was both innocent and naughty at the same time.

Adam grunted, “Much.”

“You’ll like this, too,” Holli breathed, and Adam nearly buckled when her velvety lips wrapped around his cock. Tenderly, lovingly, she suckled and slurped the mushroom head.

Michelle’s hand still held the base of his shaft, but she was not content with the role—he nearly buckled a second time when Michelle leaned closer and gently kissed the wrinkled skin of his testicles. He groaned as she cupped the underside of one of the aching balls with the flat of her tongue, rolling it around. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcibly working to maintain his control.

When Adam opened his eyes, he noticed the ladies were grinning up at him, four bright blue eyes sparkling with great amusement, mischief, and lust. Michelle had pulled back both her hand and her head, but Holli’s mouth was still full of his cock. Lazily, she dragged her lips off his member, even as her right hand came up and replaced Michelle’s at the base. She grinned at him again, eyes flashing, and angled his shaft to point right at her blonde lover.

Michelle sighed, and swallowed the length of his cock in one easy motion; for someone gone so long without cock, the girl seemed to have no problem fitting one into her mouth. It registered plainly on his face: the shock of the move, the pleasure of the move, and his fleeting thoughts of her unnoticeable rustiness. He groaned again, and she giggled with her mouth full.

Their styles were very similar, loving and reverent, as if enjoying taking their time. He wondered if that was due to their recent experiences sucking only dildos and strap-ons, and not real cock; there was really no need to furiously devour a rubber penis, and so time was taken. Adam was grateful for whatever the reason, as a tender blowjob was always preferred—and doubly so when doubly the ladies were involved.

Michelle lapped with long tongue strokes up and down the length of his shaft, closing over the head and suckling every so often, sliding her lips languorously down as she took it back inside her mouth. It was exceptional and Adam enjoyed every second—so much that he actually groaned with loss as she finally lifted her head up and away.

“Your turn, my love,” the blonde beauty murmured with a sigh as she angled his cock back in the direction of her lover.

Holli grinned and descended, and Adam found himself back once more inside her luscious mouth. Her head of luxurious chestnut hair bobbed up and down, slowly and steadily, and despite the subservience of the position with the women on their knees before him—and the emotional disconnect it could engender—Adam could feel clearly her affection in the tender way she pleasured him. It was intensely moving, and deeply pleasurable.

He reached down and ran his fingers through her hair, the slightest contact designed to let her know just how good it felt. She sighed around his cock, eliciting more pleasure for him, and then tilted her head to gaze up at him with those soft, soulful blue eyes.

Their look lasted long moments, saying more in that span than they could have with an hour’s worth of conversation, two people coming together in a very deep, very sexual, and yet somehow strangely non-romantic way.

Holli pulled back again and offered his cock to Michelle once more, who took it without an ounce of hesitation. There was a little more frenzy in the blonde’s sucking this time, her tongue flittering like crazy inside her mouth, slipping and sliding all over and around his shaft. She was focused on her task at hand, and did not look up.

Holli continued to keep her eyes fixed on his, however, only now there was a decided little twinkle to be found in those beautiful blue pools. The source of the twinkle was discovered when she dipped her head and adoringly nuzzled her nose against his testicles, and then swiped at them leisurely with the flat of her tongue. Truly, it was like something out of an adult movie, only in this movie Adam was the star.

If only Jocelyn could see him now, he thought with a small stab of pain, as was sometimes wont to happen at strange times. His girlfriend had been a vivacious sexual creature, open and uninhibited, and he knew she would love how much he was enjoying himself.

The girls pulled back then almost in unison, and exchanged another glance. The gaze held and the blonde came together with the chestnut beauty, their lips touching ever-so-slightly, ever-so-gently, the picture of Sapphic sensuality.

They moved lower suddenly, their heads descending even as they kissed, until the mushroom head of his cock pressed against Holli’s cheek. The beautiful woman withdrew, the head slipped between their faces, and the girls came together once again—only this time with Adam’s cock wedged firmly between their lips.

The feeling of the two lesbians making out with his penis ensconced between them, their mouths wet and wonderful, their tongues active, proved more than even Adam’s control could handle.

“Close,” he grunted as his knees trembled, and Holli put a firm hand on his butt to steady him as she urged, “Give it to us, Adam.”

And so he did—his cock erupted like a geyser.

The first blast, hot and thick, shot upwards into the air as the woman moved with unnatural speed to position themselves before him, mouths open, tongues extended. Michelle managed to catch much of that first blast inside, with the rest across her chin. A second spurt struck Holli across the cheek and mouth, while two more blasts were swallowed eagerly, one for each girl.

Four hands fought to stroke his shaft, pumping and squeezing, as two mouths and two tongues searched hungrily for remnants of sperm. It had been a sizable load, one which would take some time to recover from, and so Adam moaned and toppled to the ground, utterly spent.

The girls, however, had plenty of life left.

* * *

He was such a good man.

It was strange, the depth of her feelings for him—she had not expected to be so completely taken with a man, not when she had such a wonderful relationship with Michelle. She was happy, yes, she and Michelle both were, and neither wanted anything more romantically in the world. They were the twin halves of each other’s hearts.

Still, there is something to be said about the feeling of a man, and Holli had not realized how much she missed it. Or perhaps, she thought to herself as she watched Adam collapse to the floor, having blown a massive load into her mouth and Michelle’s, perhaps it was just that she missed the feeling of a good man with a great cock, both of which were hard to find enough by themselves. She cared very much for Adam Cross, she decided, and was happy to have him in her life. They would not fall in love, nor get married, but she knew she would love him for who he was and what he was, and what he meant to her and Michelle, for as long as she lived.

She smiled, thinking of that; Adam seemed to have that effect on people, so perhaps she was just another convert—though she knew he cared about her, too, in all the right kinds of ways—and it was only a matter of time before Michelle converted, as well.

Holli glanced at Michelle and saw the ear-to-ear grin on her lover’s face. There was a fire in the blonde’s eyes that was hard to tap into, but glorious once reached. She knew this would continue to be an outstanding night, and right then Holli had a significant craving for female flesh.

“Sweetie,” she whispered, and Michelle turned and her eyes softened.

It was tender, the way they came together, lips tasting and hands sliding softly across cloth and skin. Instantly they set about removing their dresses, as well as the rest of their clothes, and soon they were naked on the floor of their condominium, clutching each other’s bodies.

Holli adored Michelle’s breasts, like two little teardrops of perfection with dark red nipples and no tan lines . They were smaller C-cups, but looked much larger on the blonde’s petite frame, and she raised her hands to fondle them—and Michelle certainly loved to have them fondled. Her eyes fluttered shut and her head tilted up, and she sighed deeply.

Holli looked over to where Adam was watching, and grinned. “You don’t mind if we girls get on without you for a bit, do you, Adam?” she asked playfully. “At least, while you recover.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he responded with a grin of his own, as he took his semi-deflated cock in his hands and stroked it slowly.

Holli licked her lips, wanting to climb onto that cock and impale herself, but she also—and in equal measure—wanted to rinse her face in the juices of her beloved. She pulled Michelle down to the floor, spreading the blonde’s legs as she settled her body between them. The girls embraced, their lips finding one another again, this time with a great deal of passion, the kind only lovers can share.

The buxom blue-eyed part-time stripper inched down the body of her blonde girlfriend, tilting her head and fastening her lips to one of Michelle’s distended red nipples. She suckled with vigor, making sure Adam could hear the sound of it, and Michelle squealed with glee, her head tossed back, her eyes again tightly shut. Holli switched to the other side with a giggle, leaving a long wet smear in the valley of Michelle’s cleavage, before rising to capture the crest of the other breasts in her mouth, and worshipping it with the same reverent care she always gave.

Michelle shivered with pleasure and ran her fingers through Holli’s long hair. “Oh yes,” she moaned, “that feels so good, my love. Suck my breasts . . . oh yes . . . just like that.”

Whenever Holli was able to play with Michelle’s breasts, she took her time—her bosom was that glorious. She feasted away upon the pair of nipples, alternating from left to right every half-minute or so. Her tongue was lazy across the shriveled nubs, licking and kissing and nibbling with the excruciating languor only possible when two females are involved. Every so often, she would lick the deep valley of the blonde’s cleavage with the flat of her tongue.

Holli trailed one hand down between Michelle’s trim thighs, two fingers stretching out to tickle the pink folds at the cleft where those thighs met. Michelle’s labia was completely hairless, the whole region waxed clean but for a tiny golden tuft set just above the crease, an inch above the clitoris—which Holli massaged, suddenly and without warning, with those fingers.

Michelle quaked and cried, “Ohhhhh god yes . . . touch me, my love . . .”

Holli grinned and raised her head from the beach bunny’s breasts. “I’ll touch you, sweetie, and so much more.” She glanced at Adam, whose cock was back to being totally rock hard. “But our guest requires a little love, too.”

Michelle lifted her head, her blue eyes flashing with lusty excitement. “Mmmm, yes. We can’t leave him alone, can we? What do you have in mind?”

Holli met her gaze, then turned to Adam. “You suck his cock. I’ll lick your pretty little pussy.”

The blonde grinned and licked her lips. “Good idea,” she breathed, and Holli nearly laughed out loud at the expression of desire, anticipation, and complete disbelief on the face of Adam Cross.

Whose world she and her lover were about to rock.

* * *

“What do you have in mind?”

The words hung in the air a long moment before Holli responded, and with her words, the night took another turn. She said, “You suck his cock. I’ll lick your pretty little pussy.”

Michelle said something else, something Adam hardly heard what with the sudden fire on his face and ringing in his ears, and then, just as suddenly, the two girls were moving, their naked bodies rising and slithering: Michelle crawling forward on hands and knees, her swollen breasts hanging down and jiggling as she went; Holli twisting around to lie on her back, and shimmying between Michelle’s widespread thighs like a mechanic beneath a car.

The blonde smiled as she reached where Adam lay on the floor, propped up on his elbows. Her tongue flittered over her lips, eagerly and hungrily, as her eyes dropped to his crotch and the rigid meat waiting for her there. Meanwhile, Holli settled into her final position with her mouth mere inches from Michelle’s glistening folds, and their eyes met for a long moment before the pleasuring began.

“Ready, stud?” Michelle asked as her beautiful blue eyes came back to his, just before her pouty lips closed over the head of his cock. Those eyes flashed as she gazed at Adam, her mouth busy with the thickness within.

Adam looked past the blonde through the gap between their bodies and the space between her breasts, and saw that even as Michelle was focusing her attentions on him, she was also sliding her knees out to lower her sex to the lips of her lover. Holli’s tongue flickered forward, skimming over the full length of the pussy before her. Michelle quivered and moaned, and the vibrations of both sent chords of pleasure shooting through Adam’s cock.

He clutched at the blonde head of hair that was suckling him, slurping feverishly away, bobbing up and down at a blistering pace. Her blue eyes never once stopped staring at his face.

Suddenly she whimpered and her eyes fluttered shut, and Adam looked down again to find Holli fingering the petite blonde’s pussy, strumming her clitoris and thrusting first one, then two fingers in-and-out of the rubbery hole.

The effect on Michelle was devastating. Her body trembled and writhed, agitated and aroused, and fortunately for Adam there was only one way in which Michelle could possibly hope to release some of her arousal; he groaned as she dipped her head and swallowed nearly the entire length of his cock. Her blue eyes were like sapphire daggers as they pierced into his, practically demanding that he blow his second load into her mouth.

The intensity of her gaze wavered, however, then cracked completely—Michelle began to quake violently and her eyes rolled back into head, and she spit out his cock and wailed at the top of her lungs. It was sharp and sudden, a passionate scream of climax and the highest possible praise she could bestow upon the skillful tongue of Holli Coverton.

“Oooohhhhhh ffffuuucccckkkkkkk!” the little blonde beach bunny cried. She did not, however, release her vice-like hold of his cock; it was almost as if holding onto him there was the one thing keeping her rooted somewhat in place.

At last, when the tremors and tingles of orgasm subsided, Michelle sighed and sagged wearily to the floor, and Holli wriggled out from under her. The chestnut beauty rose to her knees, looking every bit the delectable vixen as she trained her own bright blue eyes on Adam. Her fact was shiny and dripping with fresh sex nectar, and she grinned and swept her tongue around her lips.

“Yummy,” she whispered as she savored the tasty juice.

“Come here,” Adam said, and she leaned forward to share her lips. It was a heavenly taste, the juices of Michelle, and he sucked as much of it from Holli’s mouth as he could.

Michelle watched them with a happy smile, and then Holli pulled back and turned to her. “Did you enjoy that, sweetie?” she breathed.

The blonde grinned wickedly, her happy smile turning positively devilish. “Oh yes, but now it’s your turn,” she replied, and in the next moment her expression morphed again into one of stony intensity. When she spoke next, turning to face Adam, her voice was hard. “I want you to fuck her. I want you to fuck her hard. I want you to make her beg.”

Michelle vaulted forward and practically tackled the chestnut-haired beauty, pinning her on her back on the floor. Holli squealed, then purred as the blonde ran hands all over her body as she positioned them both to her liking. When all was said and done, Michelle was behind Holli with the latter’s head in the former’s lap.

Adam looked down at Holli’s naked body. It was still relatively new to him, having only presented itself a handful of times, and he took the moment to enjoy to view to such degrees as he had not been able to since the striptease night in Vegas. Long legs, lean limbs, a supple figure: all was there on the floor before, awaiting eagerly his next move.

Michelle was not looking to wait, however, and after a minute or so, she took it upon herself to speed things up. “Lift,” she whispered simply to Holli, who obeyed instantly, already knowing what she meant.

Which is why Holli lifted her legs into the air, which Michelle then took hold up just above the ankles to guide back and out, lewdly displaying the nether regions of her lover to the man before them both. Bent nearly in half but with her ass upturned and her legs spread apart, Holli’s pretty pink pussy gaped open, the little lips stretched wide and quivering with anticipation.

“Fuck me, Adam,” Holli pleaded softly.

“Fuck her, Adam,” Michelle said firmly.

And so Adam positioned himself before the supple body and between the luscious legs, his arms planting on either side of torso for measure of support, and when he was steady, he wasted no further time—without word or warning, and without pause, he mounted her and sank his cock to the hilt inside her hot, moist pussy.

“AAAHHHHHH!” Holli wailed as her head tilted back and her eyes fluttered shut. The widespread position of her legs and the angle of his assault allowed extremely deep penetration, deeper perhaps than she had taken in some time, but Adam did not stop feeding the full length of his cock into her quaking depths again and again. It was not fast, but it was relentless.

“Now,” Michelle whispered, “fuck her hard.”

Ever the gentlemen, Adam obliged the lady.

He raised his hips and slammed into Holli at a nearly breakneck speed. She grunted, sounds which soon turned to whimpers as her whole body took the hardest pounding it had taken in years, if not ever. Her legs were dead weights, and had they not been held up by Michelle, would certainly have flopped around like the limbs of a rag doll. In and out, in and out, Adam drove his rigid throbbing shaft again and again into her velvety sheath, pummeling her. The squishing sounds of their fucking filled the room.

“Unnhh . . . ahhhh . . . ahhhh . . . unnhhh . . . unnnhhhh . . . ahhhhh . . . “

It was a brutal fucking, but it was exactly what Michelle wanted; her cold, low voice spurred him on throughout. “Fuck her,” she whispered. “Fuck her hard. Make her cum. Give her cock. She wants it so bad. Give it to her. Fuck her harder. Fuck her harder. Fuck her HARDER!”

Holli, too, proved talkative—when she could form semi-audible words amidst the whimpers.

“Unnnhhhffffuuccckkkk . . . aaahhhhgggiiivvveee iiiittttt . . . ahhhhhh . . . unnnhhhh . . . fffuucckkk meeeee . . unnnhhhhh . . . fffuuuuuccckk mmeeeee . . . aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Michelle inched away from her spot and around, never letting the legs of her lover go, to where Adam was working feverishly to generate thrust after powerful thrust. She was silent now, listening to the screams and wails of Holli as she took each vicious stroke. She looked at the man who was giving it to her, at the strong line of his jaw and the determined set of his face.

Yes, she could see why Holli liked him so much. She was beginning to like him very much, too.

She leaned forward and placed her lips gently on his cheek, and he turned with surprise in his eyes to face her even as he continued his assault on the woman beneath him. She smiled, feeling the blush come over her face, and leaned in again, this time delicately touching his lips with her own. It was soft and tender, and full of meaning . . . and designed to blow Adam’s mind.

Which it most certainly did.

Here he was on the one hand fucking a beautiful long-limbed goddess on the floor before him, balls deep over and over as her supple breasts jiggled and bounced, even as he savored the tasty lips of another gorgeous female. The sensory overload just about did him in.

And then Holli screamed out her orgasm at the top of her lungs, dumping fresh juice from her sex, and the quartet of sight, sound, taste, and touch ended him completely.

He thrust forward into the chestnut beauty once, twice, three times more before his cock lurched and he emptied his balls, and growled into the mouth of Michelle as she continued to kiss him. Time slowed. The pleasure escalated and crested, and culminated.

Michelle grazed her tongue over his lips once more and pulled back, those bright blue eyes flashing as they surveyed the scene—Holli sprawled beneath him, eyes closed, body trembling, his cock still deep inside her—and giggled. “I think you wore her out,” she purred. “Good. She has something I want and this makes it much easier.”

Adam frowned and said, “Something you want?”

“Cum,” the blonde replied succinctly with a wicked sort of grin.

She pushed back on Adam’s chest and his cock slipped free of the clutching pussy sheath, and Michelle wasted no time settling herself between her lover’s legs. She dipped her head and traced her tongue in slow circles across the innermost thighs. Holli murmured softly but did not raise her head—she was still groggy on the way down from delirious orgasm—but that head snapped up and her eyes went wide with astonishment in the very next moment as Michelle buried her lips in Holli’s sopping pussy, probing the puffy opening with her tongue for only a moment before her lips puckered into an ‘O’ and suckled with significant force.

Adam watched as sticky globs of white oozed from Holli’s crevice and into Michelle’s waiting mouth. It was undeniably nasty, but also undeniably hot, and Adam felt his twice-spent cock twitch yet again; the night, he thought with a smile, was swiftly nearing marathon status.

Michelle continued to slurp at Holli’s sex as Adam took his shaft into his hands to coax it back to life. The sight itself was largely enough, with a pair of beautiful naked ladies engaged on the floor—Holli flat on her back, legs splayed to the sides, with Michelle on her knees and elbows, back arched, her tight little rump upturned and wiggling as she worked her wanton mouth.

And then his cock flared completely to life as another thought entered his mind. It was a delicious thought, he would readily admit, and one he hoped he would swiftly see realized.

Adam moved forward on his knees and settled in behind Michelle, his shaft hard and wobbling in the air before him as he went. He reached forward, slowly, gently, and put his hands upon the supple cheeks of the blonde, even as his cock brushed the swollen folds of her sex.

Michelle gasped and whipped her head around, blonde hair flying in an arc as she turned. Her lips glistened with female love juice and her bright blue eyes were wide as they met his, and he read the concern in them. It had been a long time for Michelle, a long time since a man had moved inside her, and she was—despite her confidence over the course of the night—nervous.

Adam waited, imbuing his expression with as much thoughtfulness and tenderness as he could, as much understanding and promise of gentility as he was capable of expressing. Neither was concerned about the experience hurting Michelle—the women had already admitted that very large, very ribbed dildos were commonplace in their love life. Still, rubber was one thing, real flesh another thing entirely.

In the end it was Holli who took control. “Do it, Adam,” she whispered softly, her senses now fully regained and every fiber of her being trained on the two looming above her. “She’s ready.”

Michelle turned around to face her lover and the women shared a long look, filled with meaning, before Holli bent forward and their lips met, and Adam knew that that was his cue. Michelle wished to be taken with the lips of Holli upon her.

And so he clutched tighter the rounded orbs of the blonde girl’s rump and positioned himself, and pushed forward.

A series of events followed the penetration, each pleasurable and emotional and glorious in their own special ways: the constrictive walls of Michelle’s vice-tight pussy gripped and sucked at his meat as it passed, shooting waves of pleasure through Adam until he finally bottomed out and took pause; Michelle’s eyes bulged and she whimpered into Holli’s mouth, a whimper that became a grunt that became the deepest sort of sigh; Holli sighed and smiled as her lover took a man for the first time in a long time; Michelle gasped and her eyes fluttered shut, and her head dropped down as Adam began to move, stroking in and out at a leisurely pace; and the eyes of Holli and Adam met, her stunning blues to his striking grays, and there was as much said in the look of their eyes as with anything else that had happened that night.

Adam took his time fucking Michelle, letting her feel it, letting her relish the sensations—and she certainly seemed to relish it well. There were whimpers and grunts, and groans and moans, and little sighs and gasps, and every sound in between emanating from the throat of the beautiful blonde, and soon her hips and rump, too, got in on the action, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

Holli could not keep the huge smile off her face, a smile that practically overwhelmed her eyes. She kissed Michelle on the lips and cheeks, and stroked her hair, and alternated her loving gaze between her and Adam, never lingering long on one or the other.

Adam did notice, however, the exact moment when the smile of Holli changed. Having spent a good deal of time with the woman both in bed and out, he knew her well enough now to tell when her mind was working—and also when a sudden sort of wickedness had come upon her. It was proven correct a moment later, when she twisted around and scurried beneath the body of Michelle in the classic sixty-nine position, parking her face directly beneath a cock-filled pussy.

Upon the clitoris of which she began to lick and suck—not to mention the heavy testicles hanging above her, too.

Michelle squealed and Adam groaned, the former as her sex was assaulted by a secondary source even as she was filled to the brim again and again, the latter as the incredibly sweet heat and tightness of fucking a woman was simultaneously matched with the sensation of having a tongue baste his balls.

Adam picked up his pace, really giving to the petite blonde before him, who was pretty much a quivering nonsensical mess by that point. She was whimpering and moaning, but there was very little actual coherence to the sounds. If she was trying to articulate words, she was having a very difficult time of it.

“Fffffuuuuuuuaaaahhhhhh! Unnnhhhhh . . . unnnhhhhh . . . oooooohhhhhhh mmmmmmm . . . hhhhhmmmmm . . . unnnhhh . . . unnnhhhh . . . aaaahhhhhhh nnooooooo pppllllllaaaaahhhh . . . oh my gggggaaaaaaaaa . . . unnnhhh . . . unnhhhh . . . fffuuuuuuuuuaaaaahhhhhhh!”

His hands latched onto her ass as he boosted his power yet again. His hips slapped against her rump and thighs, punishing her flesh even as his cock pummeled the depths of her womb, spearing in and out, impaling her fully with every down-stroke. He wondered how much more the girl could actually take.

He found out moments later.

One sleek, sexy arm curled around from beneath Michelle, touching down at the small of her back before sliding lower into the crack of her bottom. Clearly, Holli had a specific purpose, and she wasted little time revealing it. The middle finger of her hand was glistening wet already, prepped earlier for its voyage by Holli’s mouth, and as it slipped lower it zeroed in right away on the small rosebud set in the center of the crack.

Without wasting any time, before Michelle likely knew at all what was happening, Holli’s finger pushed past the blonde girl’s anus and into the depths of her bowels, all the way up to the second knuckle.

Michelle practically exploded.

First, it was the blood-curdling scream. Second, it was the unfettered spasms wracking her limbs. Third, it was the contractions—almost painful they were so fierce—of the muscles of her pussy around the meat of his cock, followed by the flood of juice that suddenly poured out from the cracks and crannies of her sex to coat his shaft, balls, and the skin and hair of his crotch.

And so Adam could hold himself back no longer.

He groaned as for the third time that night spurted load after load from the depths of his balls, this time into the tight pink womb of Michelle Johnson. It lasted for some time, longer than he would have ever expected given that it was his third time, and he could feel his semen mixing with her juices, the combo oozing out around his cock.

Holli took one last lick of Michelle’s clitoris and one last swipe of Adam’s balls before she scooted out from under them, and her move proved a good one: it was barely three seconds removed from her getting clear before Michelle and Adam collapsed to the floor in a sweaty heap.

The latter closed his eyes and smiled.

* * *

The afterglow was long and lovely.

When the orgasms began, when Michelle dumped a load of her sweet nectar and Adam tensed for the burst, Holli knew she would need to move relatively quickly. She swiped one last taste of each of them and high-tailed it out from under, and a snap of the fingers after she was free both Michelle and Adam collapsed right on top of that spot where she’d been.

The two were wrecked, breathing heavily and still trembling in some places, and Holli inched forward and lay down with them to cuddle until they were calm.

It was silent for quite some time, the only sound the sounds of their breaths, but there was a great deal of soft caressing. Six hands moved slowly and tenderly, trailing over hips and stomachs and breasts and legs, over arms and shoulders, through hair and down the slopes of necks. There were all three weary, but still relishing to comfort and feel of one another, the warmth of their bodies and the feel of their flesh. It was Michelle who spoke first, finally.

“Wow,” she whispered with a great deal of husk.

“Yes,” Holli responded with a smile.

Michelle giggled. “You were right, my love. He’s very good.”

“Yes,” Holli agreed, and bent to kiss the cheek of the man.

He opened his eyes and smiled, but said nothing. He did not need to.

“I’m going to need to do this again,” Michelle cooed, “and soon.”

Holli laughed. “Of course, sweetie,” she said. “Of course.”

“Just give me a minute,” Adam breathed, and they laughed.

And each of them knew it would not be their last laugh together.

Chapter 06: Sunday Encounters

“Hello, my name is Trent and I’m a sex addict.”

A chorus of voices answered, “Hello, Trent,” followed by the lone voice of the moderator, an elderly and motherly looking lady with frazzled gray hair, who added, “Thank you for coming. Would you like to share?”

Trent McCullough surveyed the circle of chairs and people before him with the outward air of a conflicted man. It had been some time since he’d prowled the sex addict meetings, but he found himself slipping easily back into the role he presented to the group—even as he was studying and cataloguing its females as a predator might survey its prey before the feast.

There were twelve people in the circle, five men and seven women. Of the seven women, which were the ones Trent was concerned with, four were workable prospects. He was certainly not going to tap into the moderator; she was old enough to be his mother, and disconcertingly looked like her, too. A second woman was younger, but decidedly unattractive, while a third looked like your garden variety militant lesbian, complete with camouflage pants and boots.

The four who remained were a beautiful twenty-something blonde, another blonde with pigtails who could not have been more than twenty, a petite brunette probably in her early thirties, and another young brunette with big tits. He would work to get information on all of them.

Oh, how he loved these meetings.

“I am thirty years old and think about sex all the time,” Trent began, using one of his best stories. “I love my wife, she is my shining star, but she cannot satisfy the intense craving I have. She is not very sexual. Lovable, yes, but not sexual. She only likes missionary.” There were several gasps from the women at that. “I have fought my addiction for two years now, two terrible years, but I can feel myself falling apart at the seams. If I do not fuck someone soon, a woman who knows how to fuck hard, and good, and long, I don’t know if I will be able to survive. Is it wrong to fuck another person to save your marriage?”

With a pained expression, Trent returned to his chair. He could feel the eyes of the women upon him, feeling for him, understanding him, and most wonderfully, wanting more than anything else to fuck his brains out right then and there.

The moderator sighed. “It is difficult for us to answer such questions, Trent,” she said soothingly. “Only you can answer such a question. Our group, however, is here to listen and support, and to offer some comfort.”

The pig-tailed blonde sat directly to Trent’s left and rose after a few moments of silence. “Hi, my name is Kaitlyn and I’m a sex addict.”

“Hello, Kaitlyn,” the moderator said. “Welcome back. Would you like to share?”

The girl was nervous and her eyes (beautiful baby blue) kept flittering nervously in Trent’s direction. He knew with absolute certainty that the girl was his, if he wanted her, which—given her smoking hot body, gorgeous face, and pigtails—was not a question needed to be asked.

“I’m eighteen and my parents are super-rich. They still think I’m a virgin, but I’ve been having sex for almost four years. I think about it all the time. I imagine myself fucking every man I see, even the ugly ones. It’s like I can’t get enough. Lately, I’ve been thinking more and more about butt sex, which is the only thing I haven’t done, ’cause I’ve heard I’ll go to hell if I do it.”

She sat down quickly with her eyes glued to the floor.

Trent reached out and took the girl’s hand in his own. Those baby blue eyes looked up into his, wide and wondering, and looking for something to latch on to. Trent had something for her to latch onto, but that would not be until later. He softened the features of his face and said softly, “If you’re going to hell, my dear Kaitlyn, then all of us will see you there.”

The group nodded its sober assent, and so the meeting went, with each of the remaining participants sharing their particular story. Trent was able to learn quite a bit.

The brunette with big tits was a recovering drug addict with ties to the porn industry, and clearly a complete and utter basket case. She would need some serious therapy to straighten herself out, which Trent would be more than willing to give. The petite brunette was a soccer mom with two kids—and a husband who never wanted to have sex, despite her own ravenous appetites. Trent assumed he’d be fucking her before the week was up. The fourth woman, the beautiful twenty-something blonde, was bisexual with a severe submissive streak, and worried that her desire to be dominated would put her in dangerous situations.

The information came in handy; by the end of the social time—thirty minutes post-meeting when participants are able to talk amongst themselves and show their collective support of one another—Trent had four phone numbers burning a hole in his pocket.

They would not remain in his pocket for long.

* * *

Josie Haynes was a good girl, which was what Jocelyn liked best about her. She was smart, spirited, and self-assured—like the rest of the girls—but she was not naïve like Heather, nor cool like Kelsey, nor brazen like Tiffany, and for those differences and more, Jocelyn had loved her dearly. Adam long knew that Josie had been Jocelyn’s favorite, the bond between them deepest.

Which is why he was very happy to find the youngest member of that quintet standing before his door on a leisurely Sunday afternoon, donning a cute little workout ensemble, her lovely blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, her green eyes bright and lively.

“Hi, Josie,” he said cheerfully. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Adam himself had opened the door wearing only a pair of board shorts, which left his chest bare. He noticed her gaze lingering there before she said in a soft voice, “Hi, Adam. It’s been awhile.”

Adam beckoned her forward. “It has,” he admitted. His mind thought back. “I’ve only seen you three times since the funeral.”

Josie nodded and her lovely green eyes lifted from the floor to meet his grays. “How are you feeling?” she asked in a quiet voice.

And in that moment Adam, who had been doing as well as he could have expected in the eight months since Jocelyn’s death, felt the stirrings again of grief in the depths of himself, and it registered on his face.

“Why,” he replied in a suddenly strained voice, “can I be asked that question by so many people, so many times, and be fine, but when you ask it my ears ring and my chest tightens?”

Josie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, and squeezed him tightly, and it felt better than many of the more obvious pleasures he’d experienced over the past few days. “Because you know how much I loved her, too,” she answered.

They remained like that for a long, long moment, enjoying the contact between them that contained very little in the way of sexual tension and much in the way of mutual love. With her head against his chest, Josie could hear the steady beating of Adam’s heart. With his chin resting on her head, Adam could smell the wonderful scent of her hair and, with her body pressed against his, could feel the fleshy mounds of her breasts.

“Thank you,” he said finally.

She smiled. Her teeth were brilliant white and her eyes dazzled. “My pleasure,” she replied.

He grinned and led her by the hand over to the couch. “But you did not come here just to give me a hug,” he said, and it was not a question.

She blushed shyly and lowered her eyes. “No,” she admitted. She looked at him again. “I have missed you, Adam. You and Jocelyn were the couple I’ve always felt the most comfortable with. I love the other girls, too, but the boys . . . well, I’ve always liked having you around.”

Adam was not surprised. He nodded his understanding.

“Tiffany told us everything,” Josie said in that same shy voice she used when nervous or embarrassed. Adam had always found it incredibly alluring—Josie was massively attractive, after all—but the actual words spoken occupied his attention.

“I had expected something like that might happen,” he admitted. “What happens now?”

Josie met his gaze again and this time, the barest hint of a smile crept onto her lips. “I think you know them well enough to know exactly what is coming.”

Adam stared for a long moment. “Ah,” he said finally.

It was Josie’s turn to grin. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked. “Tiffany is one thing, but trying to handle Tiffany and Kelsey and Heather, all of whom are angry about their husbands and excited about something new at the same time, might be even more than you can manage. Not to mention I hear there might be another woman in your life.”

Adam grinned and rolled his eyes. “Two, actually,” he told her. “Word travels fast. But there are no romantic entanglements there, either—they’re a couple themselves, and mostly into girls.”

Josie arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked again.

He shrugged. “As much or as little as any man,” he said, and then cocked his head and looked at the young woman inquisitively. “Kelsey, Tiffany, and Heather, huh? What about you, Josie?”

Her eyes widened. “Me?” she asked in a voice heavy with shock. “I don’t . . . I’m not asking if . . . I never meant you and me . . . I mean, you don’t have to . . . wait, what do you mean?”

Adam laughed. “No, Josie,” he said, “I’m not asking what you think I’m asking. I’m asking about you and other men. Any prospects?”

Josie sighed with relief and shook her head. “Not really,” she told him. “Guys kind of suck, actually.”

Adam hesitated for a moment, then took a chance and asked what he had known to be true for some time, despite how much Jocelyn tried to conceal it. “What about women?” he asked gently.

Josie’s eyes widened. “She told you,” the girl whispered in a wavering voice.

Adam shook his head. “No,” he said honestly, “but you were one of her favorite topics. She truly loved you, you know. While she never came out and said anything to me, Jocelyn never worked to hide anything either. It was easy to read between the lines; I like to think she wanted me to. How long were the two of you . . .?”

He trailed off, leaving it open for her to finish. Josie could not believe she was having this discussion. She’d gone over to warn him about what was coming because she was concerned, and because she missed him, and here she was confronting long buried secrets and truths.

“Since we were teenagers,” the girl admitted. “We ended our . . . physical relationship when she realized she was getting serious about you. She loved you so very much, Adam.”

His eyes were soft as he said, “You, too.”

Josie smiled. “Yes, but we knew our love wasn’t the kind you take with you. We loved each other, but we both needed men in our lives. There is something to be said for the kind of emotion and intensity a man brings to relationships. We both knew we needed that.”

“Do the others know?”

Josie shook her head. “No,” she revealed. “We worked very hard to keep our intimacy a secret. We didn’t want it to upset the balance of the group.”

“And now?”

It was at that moment that Josie began to cry.

Adam rose from his chair and went to sit beside her, and offered her his arms once again. And Josie settled into them with a sigh and a sniffle, and he allowed her the time to cry and grieve for her lost friend and lover, and the youth they had shared.

* * *

Two hours north in the city of Santa Barbara, another beautiful blonde was snuggled in the arms of a man, crying about the loss of Jocelyn Barnes.

The dark blue eyes of Jessica Barnes were heavy with tears that rolled down her cheeks and fell across the chest of her boyfriend. Tim was a member of the UCSB baseball team and the two had been dating for three months.

“I miss her,” Jessica whispered in a soft voice.

Tim was less than thrilled about having to deal with her emotions at the current moment, but Jessica could not see him roll his eyes. She could only hear the words he spoke, which oozed with comfort that seemed sincere. “It’s alright,” he said as he patted her back.

“I was so strong,” Jessica said fiercely, “but when I saw Adam again everything just came back to me. I’d been bottling it up. I’ve been like this since he left.”

Tim had been on a trip for the past few days and arrived to find his girlfriend in this state. But now there was another, more pressing issue as far as he was concerned.

“Adam?” he asked.

It would have been quite obvious to Jessica, were she not as emotionally unhinged as she was, that there was a touch of anger in the word. Tim had always been the jealous type.

“Jocelyn’s boyfriend,” she told him. “He came to visit me Friday night.”

Tim was not happy. “Here? Alone?”

“We talked for awhile,” she said, still not sensing his own rising emotion. “He’s such a sweet guy, you know? Jocelyn meant so much to him. He’s trying to find his way, as we all are.”

Tim had no idea what that meant. He just knew his girlfriend had been alone in her apartment with a guy in his late twenties, who’d loved a woman who looked just like Jessica. Though he’d effectively concealed it from her, Tim was not a very nice guy to go along with a nature often both jealous and cruel. He cared little for the concerns of others, and was quite self-absorbed. He pushed her off him and rose to his feet.

Jessica looked up at him with surprise in her eyes. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Out,” he told her, and then he was gone.

* * *

Lindy Mills loved visiting the house of her older sister, Tiffany. Lindy was a senior in high school, and though it was only October, she was desperately ready to graduate, to experience what the world had to offer. She was gorgeous like her sister with the same brunette hair and brown eyes, but where Tiffany was voluptuous and curved, Lindy was thin and toned. In fact, Lindy looked younger than she was, despite having a mind and soul far older than her eighteen years.

Things she enjoyed about visiting Tiffany: not having her parents around to restrict her; the huge swimming pool in the backyard; the sex talks she enjoyed with her sister; the way everyone treated her like an adult; flirting with her sister’s husband, Trent, and the other men who were often there; and the general freedom she felt, the ability to be her own woman.

All excellent things, indeed, which is why Lindy was stoked to be spending this particular Sunday in the McCullough house while her parents were out at some ritzy charity function.

She spent the afternoon hours lounging by the pool in her tiny pink bikini and Gucci shades, soaking the sun up to perfect an already stunning golden brown tan. Some of that time she spent talking on the phone with her two best friends, Amy Sinton and Bethany Styler, also eighteen-year-old seniors at Lindy’s high school. Lindy was the brains of their little triumvirate; the girls were not the brightest bulbs, though they were adventurous, cheerful, and loyal. The three had been friends for a long time—not as long as Tiff and her friends, but getting there.

After cleaning up from her pool day, Lindy flopped down onto the couch for some bonding time with her big sister—they were half-chatting, half-watching an adult comedy her parents would never let her watch, despite the fact that she was eighteen and could vote for the next president.

Then the doorbell rang and Tiffany rose to answer—and Lindy squealed with glee when Kelsey Cartwright sauntered inside; Kelsey was gorgeous and Lindy loved to look at her, but more importantly, whenever her sister and Kelsey got together, the subject invariably turned to sex.

Which is why she was so disappointed when Tiffany turned to her with apologetic understanding written all over her face, and said, “Lindy, could you give us a few minutes alone, sweetie?”

Lindy opened her mouth, ready to protest, when she saw the soft, soothing look her sister was giving her turn to steel—it would be no use, she realized. She rose with a sigh and trudged out of the room, and left the two older women to their conversation.

Of course, she would not stay away for long. Lindy crept back down the stairs as quietly as she could, taking care to keep out of sight, and strained her ears to listen to what was being said. It would have to be good if they were trying to keep it from her.

“Tonight,” she could hear Kelsey saying.

“You’ve decided?” Tiffany sounded eager.

There was silence, followed by Kelsey again. “I want to be fucked,” she said, and there was so much fire in her voice that Lindy nearly gasped out loud, “and I don’t want my husband to do it.”

“Serves him right,” Tiffany said calmly.

“Completely,” the other agreed.

“The first time I fucked Adam, when I came, it was like fireworks went off inside my head. It was that good. Adam is that good. You’ll love it.”

Lindy’s mind was spinning. She had no time to process what was being said before the conversation barreled forward and there was more illicit information to chew on.

“Heather wants him, too,” Kelsey said. “She decided last night. It’s only a matter of time before the three of us are fucking him regularly.”

More silence, then Tiffany. “How does that make you feel?”

“Honestly? Closer to you girls. Like you said, knowing that we’re sharing the cock of a man is incredibly empowering, but knowing that cock belonged to Jocelyn, and in many ways still belongs to her, is also something I can feel in my heart is right.”

Tiffany said softly, “I know.”

The silence that hung in the air was longer than any of the others, which was perfect for Lindy, who was still struggling to digest all that she had learned.

“Nice cock?” Kelsey said suddenly.

“Very nice,” Tiffany replied. “Big and thick, and he knows how to use it. Made me orgasm so good I can still feel the tingles in my toes.”

She was not the only one tingling; Lindy could feel the wetness between her legs just from listening to the conversation. She knew they were talking about Adam Cross, the boyfriend of Jocelyn Barnes, who had been one of her sister’s best friends before she died a few months earlier. It seemed, incredibly, that all of Jocelyn’s old friends would soon be fucking her old boyfriend. Lindy was hot just thinking about it.

She heard rustling as Kelsey said, “I can’t wait any longer.”

Lindy realized the conversation was over and scampered back upstairs, and the last thing she heard was the voice of her sister saying, “Call me later with the details.”

Once stashed safely inside the guest bedroom, Lindy flopped onto the bed and shoved her hands inside her pants. Her pussy was practically on fire and she needed relief as soon as possible, and her fingers delved hurriedly into her folds and strummed the swollen nub of her clit.

It did not take long.

She squealed and dumped fresh nectar over her hands as she came. It had been explosive and exhilarating, and deep in the heart of herself Lindy knew she would soon need more than just her hands could give her.

* * *

The doorbell rang for the second time that day, just a couple hours after Josie left, and so likewise for the second time, Adam went to open it.

It was a warm Sunday evening in the fall in Los Angeles and Kelsey Cartwright was dressed for it: a light pink sun dress that dropped to mid-thigh. She had an excellent body and looked very good in what she was wearing, which was par for the Kelsey course. Her luscious bounty of red hair rolled off her head in cascading waves of fire and her brown eyes sparkled.

She did not wait for him to speak, but swept past him into his apartment, a lovely gourmand scent trailing after her and assaulting his senses. She spun on her heels and stared pointedly at him, eyes flashing.

“You fucked Tiffany,” she said flatly. She was never one to mince words.

Adam smiled. “It’s nice to see you, too, Kelsey,” he said politely as he closed the door behind her, “and you already know the answer to that question.”

Kelsey appraised him without subtlety of any kind. “She enjoyed it,” the woman stated.

“Yes,” he said with a grin, “I’d heard that, too.”

Kelsey said, “I’m married.”

“Yes,” Adam replied, and this time there was no humor in his voice.

“It seems I’m married to a walking penis.”

“Yes,” Adam repeated.

“You’re a very handsome man, Adam,” she said, and for the first time her voice was softer. “Handsome and kind, and she loved you very much.”

And so, as they always seemed to do, things returned to Jocelyn. “Yes,” he said again, tightly.

Kelsey nodded once, very slightly, and moved forward until her body was mere inches from his. Adam had not moved one bit the whole of their talk and remained motionless. “Did you think I would come?” she asked as she cocked her head inquisitively, and when he nodded, and she added, quietly, “Are you happy I’ve come?”

Adam thought about that for a long moment, and with a sigh answered, “Of course, because I’m a man. But Jocelyn would be happy for the right kinds of reasons.”

And in that moment the face of Kelsey Cartwright, who was always etched in icy steel and well-composed, was softer around the eyes and more vulnerable than he had ever remembered or ever heard about, and those beautiful brown pools looked deeper than he had ever known or expected them to be.

“Take me,” she whispered.

And her lips parted and she leaned into him, and her luscious breasts pressed against him as her head titled up in a silent request that was more plea than anything, and her eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. It was completely unexpected and incredibly alluring, and Adam knew then that—while the two were best of friends and similar in so many ways—as a lover, she would be as different from Tiffany as night was from day.

Adam leaned down and tasted the lips of Kelsey Cartwright for the first time. They were full and rich and warm, and the feel of her tongue as it brushed his was electrifying. It held none of the passion and frenzy that came with Tiffany, but much of the sort of sensual togetherness that he experienced with Jocelyn, if without the deeper layer of love.

The kiss lasted for several minutes as they explored mouths, content not to touch and tease their bodies yet but allow for the experience to take them there when ready. Kelsey, it could easily be said now by Adam from personal contact, was an incredible kisser.

And then the dam broke and the woman-in-need emerged, and in the next instant Kelsey’s hands were all over his body. His shirt was gone and her fingers were tracing the muscles of his back, the strong biceps of his arms, and the flat of his abdomen. Her lips left his mouth and moved to his chest, where they licked and suckled his skin and nipples with an almost reckless abandon.

And then she broke away, chest heaving as she panted for breath, eyes flashing with dangerous lust, and wordlessly her hands went to the soft cloth of her dress. With fluid motion she stripped the light pink garment up and over her head, exposing her naked body to his admiring gaze. She was not wearing a bra or panties—clearly, she came prepared—and the shock of suddenly seeing her naked had every bit of its intended consequence upon him, and his loins.

Kelsey smiled at the look of awe on his face and stepped back two paces to where the door to his bedroom was. She pressed herself against the frame, posing for him as she moved her willowy body this way and that, never releasing her eyes from his.

Adam enjoyed the glorious view: perfectly rounded pear-shaped breasts; flat stomach and thin waist with smooth, flawless skin; round hips above a pair of long, lean, lovely legs; and the flaming swath of curls where those legs met, the red hairs so fine as to be translucent. There was another smile on her face now, a new and different smile, the kind that spoke of coyness only lovers can share—and with her hand beckoning him, they would soon cross that boundary.

“Clothes, please, Adam,” she purred, and her voice oozed like purest honey.

His jeans followed his shirt to the floor, and in moments he was against her again, their naked bodies pressed together, her breasts squished into his chest, his stiffness pressed into her belly. With his arms around her shoulders his hands caressed the small of her back as hers clutched his rump, and together they lumbered, lips locked again and unbroken, into the bedroom.

Kelsey took charge and shoved Adam back; he fall in a heap on the bed, sprawled out on his back. She stood over him with her hands on her hips, a fire-haired goddess with golden brown skin and wild brown eyes, breasts swaying as she sucked in ragged breaths, the slickness between her legs catching the small bit of light in the dim room to shine invitingly.

She moved over him, but Adam had different ideas: his hands lashed out and grabbed her, and flipped her over in one quick motion so that she was pinned on her back beneath him, struggling against his embrace.

“Hey!” the gorgeous woman cried, but her cry was muffled as his lips set about devouring her.

She responded by enthusiastically trying to baste the inside of his mouth with her tongue, and the frenzy that resulted nearly took what remained of Adam’s breath. It was one of the fiercest make-out sessions of his life.

He tore himself away after long moments and dipped his head to feast upon her breasts, suckling the nipples as his fingers kneaded the swollen flesh. She moaned and squirmed as he worshipped them, alternating between the two, crushing them, sucking them, teasing them, nibbling them.

And then he went lower still, across the flat span of her stomach and over the silken swath of red to the saturated pink beneath. His tongue lapped up the juices he found there even as he sank one of his fingers to the second knuckle inside the oven-hot tunnel of her pussy.

Kelsey moaned and her back arched sharply, thrusting her wonderful breasts into the air, as his tongue went to work on her, assaulting her swollen clitoris. His fingers withdrew and plunged back inside suddenly, and his fingertip tickled the inner walls once returned.

While Kelsey was most certainly a different kind of lover than Tiffany, the one thing they shared was verbosity. Her moans turned to whispers as she begged for him to make her cum.

“Right there,” she quavered, “oh yes, oh yes, don’t stop, oh please, don’t stop, right there, make me cum, make me cum, Adam, please oh please oh please ohppllllleeeeeeeaaaassseeee!”

The beautiful thing about vocal lovers is the knowledge—apart from trembling limbs—that climax has arrived, and as the low-pitched moans transformed into high-volume squeals, Adam knew beyond the twitching of her slick pink folds and the trembling of her legs that Kelsey was cresting into wicked orgasm.

And then her sweet sex nectar gushed forth and into his mouth, and Adam knew she was at the heights of pleasure—yet still he was not satisfied, wanting to give her more.

He kept his lips affixed to her puffy labia and suckled her even as his tongue continued to bathe her folds and clit through the heart of her climax, and his ministrations ensured that instead of coming down from the heights, he sent her quivering body hurtling towards another plane of pleasure, this one even higher than the one before.

And as the tingling that had never fully receded from her first orgasm built again, the sounds Kelsey made became less and less coherent. Her shrieks lost all semblance to the normal course of language and devolved into manic whispers, high-pitched squeals, whimpers, and grunts.

“Ahhh! Aiiiieee! Ooohhhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhh! Aii! Aiii! Ooaaahhhh! Aiii! Ahhh! Aiiiieeee!”

And when her body was trembling more violently than it had at any previous point, such that the soft and fine hairs of fire-engine red above the region he was attacking began to tickle his nose from all the movement, Adam decided it was time to finish her.

Even as his tongue jack-hammered against her clitoris, his lips wrapped around the swollen nub and suckled feverishly that spot like a babe at its mother’s breast, bearing down upon Kelsey’s erogenous zone in a way quite unlike she had ever before experienced. Her mind was an untenable mess of pleasure-induced hysteria: she could not think enough to speak or move, her body acting and responding purely at its basest instinctual level.

And then she came again and the wailing began.

It began in the depths of her, that purest place of the female body where pleasure is first recognized as pleasure and the message is sent to all nerve endings. Only in this instance, instead of a little flurry of gunfire as with normal orgasm, it was like a grenade had been detonated within her. Every nerve and conductor and receptacle sang in unison with the unbridled intensity of inescapable climax and her body, overloaded, almost ceased to function properly.

Kelsey screamed and the world heard it.

At least, everyone in the world but Adam himself.

As her pleasure crested again and the climax exploded within her, the supple thighs of the luscious redhead clamped down like a vice on the sides of his head, effectively muting all sound. It was so quiet, in fact, that Adam could hear the pulsating beat of his own heart. Then her hands lashed out and grappled for the back of his head, and fiercely shoved his face harder into her sex as the glorious waves of orgasm crashed over her. Buckets of juice poured over his face, smearing his cheeks and trickling down his chin.

It took some time for her to come down from the heights she reached with the second of her back-to-back orgasms, and so finally Adam raised his head and looked down upon what his mouth had wrought. The grimace on Kelsey’s face gave the appearance of significant pain as she whimpered through labored breaths. Her limbs quivered as she rolled to her side and curled her knees up to her chest. The lips of her pussy were still twitching. There were tears on her cheeks.

And then her eyes popped open and turned slowly to meet his own, and Adam saw more fire flashing in them then he had even seen in her before, a ferocity in her eyes that was startling, even frightening—and then Kelsey Cartwright vaulted up and slapped him full across the face.

“You’ve ruined me,” she hissed.

What followed next happened so fast, Adam still has no clear idea how it was accomplished: the fire-haired vixen sprung upward and forward, bounding utterly on top of him, and in doing so managed, somehow, to straddle him and impale herself to the hilt on all seven inches of his cock.

The tightness was indescribable, the warmth and wetness unbelievable, and the sum of the whole inconceivably pleasurable.

Kelsey was like a woman deranged as she rocked her hips back and forth, actively working them up and down his rigid column. Her eyes were wild and flashing, her head thrashing, her hair a virtual forest fire whipping around her head. Her perfect breasts bounced and jiggled as her body moved, rippling upwards, twisting and shaking as she rose and fell, slamming her ass down upon him and rebounding like a trampoline.

His head was spinning as she fucked, harder and more wildly than he had ever been fucked in that position before, with more reckless abandon than even Tiffany nights before. He sucked in air, gasping, as she beat at his chest with her fists, pummeling him as she screamed and wailed at the top of her lungs. His cock was on absolute fire.

And then she stopped, just as suddenly as the whole thing had begun, settling the whole of her weight upon him. Her eyes still flashed, but there was a peculiar sort of calm to the wildness found there, and this was much more of the Kelsey he was used to seeing—which somehow only increased Adam’s anticipation.

“Hold still,” she whispered, as if he planned on going somewhere.

She lifted her hips and began to move, twisting her body around while keeping the tip of his cock still inside her, until she finally resettled 180 degrees from where she began, situated upon him in the reverse cowgirl manner. Adam gazed at the sleek track of her spine, tapering down and flaring into a pair of lusciously rounded cheeks—it was a sight to see, beautiful and alluring, and one of his favorites, truth be told.

“He’s a nice guy!” Genevieve insisted.

“They’re all nice guys,” Maylene replied with a coy grin as she leaned against the bar counter.

“Yeah. Right.” Her friend shook her head unconvinced.

As the two women waited for their drinks at the bar, Genevieve, a taller honey-blonde, was running the two-minute drill on Maylene. Genevieve and her other friends had met up with a couple of guys at The Red Rooster, the local pub, before she had arrived and, of course, one of them was just perfect for her.

“I meant, you always try to match me up with the ‘nice guy’,” Maylene, a younger Chinese student, remarked as she swept aside her shoulder length black hair.

“Because you’re the sweetest little girl that I’ve ever known,” Genevieve replied half-jokingly. She patted the shorter woman on the top of her head. “Can’t set a baby seal amongst the sharks.”

Maylene rolled her eyes and brushed away her friend’s hand with a laugh, “Oh, shut it! Baby seal, my arse. I’m quite capable, thanks.”

“Oh come on!” Genevieve continued as she looked back at their table, “He’s actually not that bad looking, either.”

Maylene glanced back as well but quickly returned her attention to the wood-grain pattern of the bar counter. She shrugged.

They gathered up their round of drinks and headed back through the crowded floor to their table. The group made space for Maylene to sit beside ‘nice guy’, Peter.

“Heineken for you, right?” she asked him as she passed over a bottle.

“Thanks,” he said with his perfect smile and shiny blue eyes, “Next one will be the guys’ round.”

Maylene nodded politely.

Peter took a sip and then asked her, “So your background is Chinese?”

“Mum and Dad are from Hong Kong.”

He nodded. “And the accent?”

“Brit,” she said. She took a sip of her Long Island Iced Tea then continued, “Londoner. The green and pleasant land. Born there.”

“Ah. Cool,” he remarked as he flashed a perfectly acceptable smile, “It’s a really attractive combination.”

Maylene smiled softly and rocked her head side-to-side as she stared at her glass. “Well, maybe here but it’s fairly commonplace back home.”

Peter squinted as his smile widened. “I would never say you were ‘commonplace.’”

Maylene’s dipped her chin downward. Her eyes rolled up to look at her friends. Though they were all seemingly talking amongst themselves, it was obvious that their attention was on her. Matching up their young friend with every decent guy they could find had become a spectator sport.

Maylene had been in Canada for two years, living in Toronto to study interior design at OCAD. She really never got into the dating scene. She had promised her parents that when she moved abroad, her priority would be studying so she wasn’t actively searching for male companionship. Not that she was closed to the idea but, honestly, she seemed to attract and be setup with one cookie-cutter guy after another.

She looked at Peter with her enticing slender eyes as he talked. She smiled her pretty smile –flashed those winning dimples- and nodded but didn’t really hear what he was saying. Listening wasn’t her strongest suit. The guy was indeed good-looking with his short, curly black hair and blue eyes. He was well-groomed, and held an air of professional confidence. Not the least bit sleazy or lecherous. Who’s to know? He may well have been good for a bonk or two but then after that? Let’s exchange numbers. I’ll call. Want to meet up for dinner? What are we doing for the weekend? Want to meet my folks? Maybe we should move in together? Why not? I want to see you. When?

Agh! Give me my space, goddammit!

Maylene shook her head, closed her eyes and pressed her palms against her temples. “Why in heaven do you do this to yourself?” she thought, grimacing. Relationships were so life-sucking.

“Um, is something wrong?” Peter asked.

Maylene opened her eyes slowly -left one first then right- and looked up. All eyes around the table were on her. She blushed as she sat up. She brushed down her long black hair trying to compose herself. “Ehm, sorry,” she said as she looked aside sheepishly, “I was just thinking about an assignment I have to do for school.”

Genevieve gave her a look, partially one of bemusement, mostly frustration. From past experience, she had an idea of what Maylene was thinking.

Maylene offered her an apologetic shrug. She pursed her lips, puffed her cheeks and rolled her eyes coyly.

The young woman took another sip from her straw and sighed. Her evenings at The Red Rooster always seemed to go this way. She enjoyed being with her friends but sitting around in the pub felt like it was becoming a chore. She’d have much more fun just playing darts. In truth, rather than because of her friends, there was one particular reason she was coming to the pub lately.

The front door opened and Maylene turned towards the entrance. Her sleek, dark eyes immediately widened as she sat upright.

There he was. Wearing his heavy, brown leather trench coat, running his fingers through his short rusty-blonde hair, he slowly made his way into the tavern. He always had that same look about him: lowered brow, his square, stubbly jaw set, his pale lips drawn to a fine line. He was a brawny, tall man and would almost be described as lumbering if not for the cool confidence he exuded. Not that he seemed to be the type who actually cared what other people thought of him.

Maylene’s eyes, as always, followed him as he moved.

“Hey Anton,” Peter called out to the man and raised his hand.

The man’s step didn’t slow down as he passed the table. He did turn his head though and nodded toward Peter. Then he made his way to his usual spot around the corner of the bar counter, sat on a stool, and then pulled out his Blackberry.

Maylene continued to look at him. Then she blinked and turned to Peter. “Um…You know him?” she asked, unable to hide her surprise.

Peter nodded as he drank from his bottle. “Anton does some security and surveillance work at my company,” he said.

“You’re friends?”

Peter shrugged, “We talk.”

Maylene had the sudden urge to pester Peter even more but she realized how obvious she would appear. Instead, she just returned to discreetly watching the man named Anton seated alone at the bar.

He had ordered a beer and sat silently working on his phone. Alone but not actually appearing to be lonely, people always seemed to give the man a wide berth. No buddies slapping him on the back, no women hovering around the rather handsome fellow in his dark corner of the bar. His focused demeanor and unmoving expression sent out a silent signal that he should be left alone.

As her friends continued to talk amongst themselves and Peter’s unacknowledged attentions slowly drifted elsewhere, Maylene allowed her gaze to linger longer on the solitary man.


At first glance, it would have appeared to most that the man sitting by himself at the bar was indiscriminately thumbing the little buttons on his cell phone. Anton didn’t seem so much absorbed in the little gadget as he was just killing time or else it was an excuse for him not to bother with other people. For whatever reason, people did leave him alone — usually.

“Not doing anything dodgy now are you?” a playful, female voice spoke into his ear.

Anton frowned slightly and looked up from his phone. A young woman, Chinese, shimmied herself onto the stool beside him. She smiled. He eyed her.

Maylene had prepared herself for that. He looked like he may be the mysteriously churlish type. In fact, part of her had anxiously anticipated that reaction. As he continued to look at her silently, Maylene cleared her throat and spoke through her smile, “Is that the latest model? I’ve been wanting to have a look-see at one.”

Anton realized she was asking about his phone. Without speaking, he switched it off and put it down on the counter, pushing it slightly away to his side. Then he returned to staring at Maylene, his frown settling lower over his green eyes.

Maylene twisted her lips to the side, her own brows arching upward. Okay. This was going to be a bit more difficult. “On the other hand,” she thought to herself, “He hasn’t told me to go away.”

She brushed her straight hair behind her ears with her fingers. It was her ‘stall tactic’ as she thought. “My friends and I are over there,” Maylene thumbed over to the table behind her, “With Peter. You know Peter? He said your name is Anton. That right? Would you…would you care to join us?”

She saw his eyes shift past her for an instant towards the table before they reset their cool gaze upon her.

“I mean, you always come in here and sit by yourself at this stool,” Maylene rambled on, “Not that I’ve been watching…I mean there’s nothing wrong with that, of course. Sitting here on your own, is what I’m implying.”

Her hands started to wave around as she spoke. It was a terrible habit, she knew…always happened when she grew anxious. And she was desperately anxious now. It was increasingly difficult to keep looking into his narrowing eyes as she spoke.

“I mean, I’m not watching you all the time,” she closed her eyes and pressed her palm against her forehead, “I’m not a stalker! I just noticed you alone and….uh…”

Great. She was babbling now.

Anton took a long sip from his bottle, staring at her as she slowly disintegrated.

She chewed on her lower lip and looked at him with an anxious grin. She could feel that she was blushing. Finally she looked down towards the floor and muttered, “Um, can you say something? Please? I feel like I’m talking to the wall like a prattling auntie.”

There was a brutally long pause. He was still frowning at her albeit not as harshly as before when she had spiraled into her yammering. She could see him sigh.

Maylene was about to slide off her chair and skulk away in defeat when the man finally spoke. “Load me up again,” he said in a dry, low voice.

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Anton finally pulled his stare away from her and looked at the bartender. He pointed to his bottle and said, “Another. I’ll be back in a sec.”

The man got up and headed to the washrooms leaving the young woman staring at the empty barstool. After a long moment, Maylene smirked to herself. She thumped her forehead with her palm and hissed, “Stupid cow.”

Dejected, she stood up and was about to turn and face the inquisition of her friends when she noticed the man’s Blackberry cell phone sitting on the bar counter. Pursing her lips, she glanced towards the washroom doors then back at the little device. She repeated this twice more before grinning and picking it up.

Anton was at the washroom sink when he suddenly patted down his pockets. He closed his eyes and spat quietly, “Fuck.”

Quickly he went back into the bar. Two stools sat empty beside the bar where he had been sitting. On the bar counter his cell phone rested by itself beside a freshly opened bottle of beer.


Anton was exhausted by the time he returned to his apartment building, the 4 Corners Residences. It had been another long day and, even though he lived only on the second floor, he grumbled about making his way up a flight of stairs. Half way up, he heard someone charging up behind him. Quickly he turned around, his fist clenching.

“Oh hey! Uh…hi!” A decidedly nondescript guy came up behind him. Anton squinted. John Smith. Apartment 301, directly above him. The guy was like a tepid glass of water.

John offered a nervous grin and anxious look. He waited patiently behind Anton as the bigger man stood in the middle of the stairs. Anton just glared at him. Lately John had been pretty eager to get back home after work. He had a good idea why.

Without a word, Anton moved to the side of the stairs. Glancing at him, John cleared his throat and slowly stepped past by, careful not to even brush against the man’s coat. “Thanks,” he mumbled softly before raced up the rest of the stairs.

At a more laboured pace, Anton made his way up to his apartment.

Inside apartment 201, Anton removed his coat and tossed it onto his futon. He switched on a lamp in the studio apartment before pulling out his phone as he stood by his window facing the street. He thumbed the keys, scrolling through names and numbers and files. All that information seemed to blur into one another in the little glowing window, but it all sorted itself out in the man’s mind, even if he was tired. Everything had its place, everything had its association. So as he scrolled through his screens, it was easy to spot something new, something that didn’t belong in there.

Anton frowned. There was a video stored in the memory, something from that evening. The man’s jaw tightened as he pressed play. The poorly lit image of a grinning young Chinese woman appeared on the little screen. Her melodic English accent was barely audible over the background din of the Red Rooster Pub.

“Hi there. Me again. Hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to check out this gadget of yours out. Very cool, I must say. I forgot to mention to you my name, by the way. I know, I know, you didn’t ask, but…anyway, it’s Maylene. ‘May’ like the month and ‘lene’ like…ah…Lean Cuisine! And just to prove to you that I’m completely mad, here’s my number: 416-###-5115. So you could call me and tell me off. A-a-and…I can’t believe I just did that! Sorry! Sorry! How do I delete this?”

The image on the screen jostled about for a couple of seconds, several indecipherable curses from the woman being captured by the phone’s mic, before the video stopped.

Anton stared at the screen, his jaw fixed firmly and eyes set as a deep sigh rumbled up through his chest. *********

Maylene stared into her bottle of beer. For the next several days, it had been a struggle between wanting to go to the Red Rooster and wanting to stay as far away from the pub as possible.

Her friends had chided her endlessly when she had returned to the table that evening she had “introduced” herself to Anton. She couldn’t stomach looking Peter in the eye either. And then of course, there was that stupid, stupid idea of leaving the video message on the man’s phone…

Those thoughts along with contemplating how Anton would react to finding her message made her queasy. And yet, she also really wanted to know what he was thinking. The big, silent man had intrigued her, damn him. That nagging thought was enough to pull her back into that pub.

Unfortunately in the ensuing days, Anton never made a follow up appearance. And he never called. At first it was more than she could endure, the anticipation, the anxiousness. But as the days went by, she began to realize that nothing was likely to come of it. And why should it anyway? The message had probably been deleted into electronic oblivion the moment he viewed it, if he had even bothered to watch it at all.

On this night, Maylene had been determined to go into the Red Rooster, get soused, and wholeheartedly accept the consoling and counseling of her friends. She had barely glimpsed the bottom of her first glass, however, when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen: an unregistered number.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Meet me outside,” a serious voice droned through the receiver.

“What? Who…” Maylene furrowed her brow. She paused for a moment, blinked, and continued, “Who is this?”

Her friends immediately stopped their conversations and turned their attentions upon her. Maylene looked at each of them guiltily.

“I said come outside,” the voice reiterated.

Her eyes still on her friends, Maylene replied, “Outside? Where…?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Outside…” she repeated. Still holding the phone at her ear and without saying anything to her friends other than a silent apologetic look, Maylene simply stood up, grabbed her coat and made her way towards the front exit.

Once outside, she fumbled to put on her coat as she continued to speak on the phone. “Where are you?” she asked as she looked around the empty sidewalk.

A horn honked twice. Maylene followed the sound to a minivan parked on the street a few meters away from the Red Rooster’s door. She switched off her phone as she leaned down and looked through the passenger window. Seated in the dark interior of the minivan, she could see the silhouette of a large man sitting in the driver’s seat. He sat quietly, looking away from her, staring straight ahead over the wheel.


“Get in,” he said flatly.

Without a second thought or breath, the young woman did as she was told.


For the short ride a few blocks away from the pub to a corner donut shop and for a few minutes while seated across from one another in a booth, Maylene and Anton didn’t exchange a word. The only time either of them had spoken was when they each ordered for themselves at the counter.

He stared in cold silence at her as his finger slowly tapped the table but, for whatever reason, Maylene didn’t feel exactly uncomfortable as she sipped her coffee. How she had mustered this strange sense of security, she didn’t know, but she was actually feeling a little amused. The man, for all his unfazed coolness, was fuming deep within. It was sort of funny thinking that she was the cause of that.

“I never would have expected you to be the strawberry-jelly sort,” Maylene finally broke the silent stalemate.

Anton’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

She dipped her head towards the powdered donut sitting on a saucer in front of him. “I would have thought you would stick to the plain style, or perhaps the chocolate dipped,” she grinned, “You know, the macho donuts.”

The angle of his frown seemed to actually deepen as he shifted in his side of the booth. Under the glare of the cheap fluorescent bulbs lighting up the shop, he looked a bit tired.

“Not that I’d be one to judge your manhood by some deep-fried cake,” Maylene added, “But people do talk.” She curled her lips into her mouth and looked up at the ceiling.

Anton slid his jaw to the side, dragging his teeth against one another. After a moment, he finally spoke, “What’s with you?”

Maylene looked at him, arching her brows. “Hmm? What do you mean?” she asked innocently, “Do you mean my accent? It’s British…Londoner. I’m Chinese but I was born and raised in London. I’m studying here to be an interior designer.”

Usually this explanation about herself had to be dragged out of her. Why she was so forthcoming with him, she had no idea.

It was clear from his bothered expression that Anton had no idea either. He shook his head and reached into his coat pocket, the leather of his jacket creaking. For a moment, Maylene actually thought –still amusedly- that he might pull a gun on her to shut her up. Instead, he leaned forward and put his cell phone on the table.

Maylene stared at the device with a coy grin then looked up, fluttering her eyelashes.

Anton was leaning back in his seat awaiting some sort of response from her. Almost 30 seconds of silence went by before he realized the woman was going to play dumb, blinking and smiling at him. He should have exploded all over her. He usually would have.

Instead, he felt the skin on his face relax a bit as he leaned forward, folding his fingers together on the table. “What,” he said with a purposefully slow voice, “Did you do with my phone?”

Maylene thought better of continuing her silent treatment. “Nothing,” she replied.

“You know, there’s a lot personal stuff on people’s phones,” Anton continued, “Stuff that can get people into trouble, legally and not so legally.”

She opened her mouth to say something but paused. As she looked into his green eyes she saw the seriousness in his expression. Her smile weakened. She said, “I…I didn’t go through it. Really.”

Anton leaned in closer, his eyes piercing her, gauging her.

“Honestly!” She remarked, “I just…sorry! I shot the vid of myself. I know it was a stupid thing to do. But that was all.”

The man leaned back in his chair, his hands sliding off the table. Maylene frowned. Looking at the phone she sighed dejectedly and said, “I was only having a bit of a laugh. I just wanted…I only meant to leave you my number.”

Anton was totally relaxed now, draping his arms across the back of his side of the booth.

“I don’t normally do daft stuff like that,” she said softly.

“Because you’re not a stalker,” Anton spoke.

Maylene blinked. She looked up at him. Squinting slightly, she thought she might have seen the ebb of a smile on his lips. Or maybe he was picking at something in his teeth with his tongue. She couldn’t tell.

“I really didn’t go through your phone,” she stated bluntly.

Anton nodded slowly.

“So who are you? James Bond with your secret files?” Maylene said, a bit of a sting in her voice.

Anton just turned his head and looked out the window.

Maylene frowned. This wasn’t as much fun anymore. With her confession, the man seemed content to just sit placidly in his seat and look past her. At least when he was agitated, she knew he was thinking about her. Now he was just another brooding, good-looking mute.

She gulped down her lukewarm coffee and began to contemplate leaving.

“So you’re an interior designer?” Anton asked still gazing out the window.


“You said you’re here studying interior design,” he reiterated.

She was kind of shocked that he had paid attention to what she had said earlier. Moreover however, she was annoyed. Maylene shook her head and grimaced. “Yes, but I don’t…”

“Come on,” Anton said as he slid out from the booth. He walked past Maylene still seated in her chair.

Her small lips were ajar as she stared at the now vacant seat across from her. She craned her neck around and watched as Anton made his way towards the exit. It was her turn to fume as she sat in the booth alone.

He was mad if he was thinking she was going to follow him around all night like a lovesick puppy.

Absolutely. Mad.


During the ten minutes that they drove around in his minivan, Maylene and Anton were again silent. She somehow twisted the logic enough in her head to pretend that she was giving him the silent treatment. Truthfully she knew he didn’t really care if she had staples across her lips or if she were belting out a tune.

After awhile, he finally parked on the street in front of a convenience store, Wang’s Milk and Gifts, and got out. Of course he wasn’t going to say why they were there or tell her to either wait in the car or not. Grudgingly, she stepped out of the minivan and followed Anton as he entered the store.

Bad boys! Bad boys! What’cha gonna do? What’cha gonna do when dey come for you!” the man behind the counter sang out as Anton walked in.

“Told you I’m not a cop, Jimmy Dean,” Anton grunted as he approached the counter. He added, “Not a narc either.”

The black, slim like a stick of butter storekeeper winked. “Jimmy’s got your back, Kojak! I won’t blow your cover, Secret AYYYgent Man!”

Anton sighed and shook his head. Maylene, standing by the door, thought she actually caught him with a reluctant grin.

“Hey, hey pretty lady!” Jimmy Dean waved towards her.

Maylene waved back playfully. It was nice to see a warm smile tonight.

“She under some witness protection program?” Jimmy Dean asked Anton. “She some righteous damsel and you’re her bodyguard? Kevin Costner to her Whitney Houston?”

Anton smirked. “She doesn’t need protection. Trust me.”

Maylene chuckled.

Anton bought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Nodding towards Jimmy Dean, he made his way to the front door. As he and Maylene made their way out, they both stopped when they heard Jimmy Dean sing out from behind, “And I-EE-YAY-EE-I will always love YOU-WU-OO-WOOO!!!!

Anton pushed past Maylene as she sputtered and laughed into the night air.

“What was that?” she giggled.

Anton simply shrugged and sighed.

Maylene took a couple of seconds to compose herself, wiping a tear at the edge of her eye, then headed for the minivan. It took her a moment to realize Anton wasn’t walking in the same direction. He had walked a few steps to a door leading into the building above the convenience store.

“Uh, where are you going?” she asked.

Thumbing towards the entrance way, he replied, “My apartment.”

“Oh,” Maylene said. She stood motionless on the sidewalk as Anton entered the building.

Once again, he had simply left her behind.

And once again, after a moment’s pause, Maylene followed.


Maylene followed behind Anton up the stairs slowly but not reluctantly. The apartment stairs and halls were a little dim but not dingy. It was a well-kept kind of classic style, she observed, with waxed wooden floors and handrail moldings.

Paying attention to the details of the building distracted her from thinking about why she was following a veritable stranger into his apartment. Yet she barely paused as he opened the door to his second floor apartment, #201, and followed him in silently.

Anton walked in, flipping on a lamp, and tossed his keys on a table.

Maylene took a few steps in from the door and shut it carefully behind her. She stood steady on her spot, rolling her eyes and tilting her head to take a look at the apartment. It was a surprisingly spacious single-room studio. The apartment complex was appropriately named “4 Corners” since all four corners of this flat were clearly visible.

“Not much into furniture, are we?” Maylene joked as she took off her coat. She noted the simple furnishings: table, couple of chairs, futon, and desk.

It looked like the set up of a man who could move on a moment’s notice.

Anton stood with his back to her at the desk. He was sifting around the clutter, piles of electronic bits and equipment. Maylene recalled that he was in the surveillance business.

Dropping her bag and coat on a chair, Maylene did a quick self-guided tour of the apartment then joined Anton at the desk. She stood beside him, pursing her lips and puffing her cheeks waiting for some sort of comment from the man. He continued shuffling through his gear as if she wasn’t there.

“No telee?” She asked, glancing around the room.

“Not into watching anything,” Anton replied.

Maylene nodded. She pointed at his laptop. “At least you’ve got internet,” she commented.

“Mostly use that for work.”

“Oh right,” she said, “You do security and surveillance at that guy Patrick’s place.”

“And other places,” Anton added, “That’s my day work. This stuff here is for my side jobs.”

Maylene smiled. She finally found a topic he seemed willing to discuss. “Side jobs?” she said casting a playfully suspicious brow towards him, “The undercover sort? Are you up to no good?”

Anton was examining something that looked like a circuit-board. “Not me who’s up to no good,” he remarked dryly.

“Sounds dangerous,” Maylene remarked, “Sure you’re not James Bond?”

Anton remained silent.

Maylene grinned. Now this was interesting. “So then,” she nodded towards his computer, “You’ve got some juicy stuff on this?”

The man smirked. “Not unless I want people to find out what I’m doing,” he said, “I test equipment on this.”

“Oh,” she replied. Her enthusiasm dropped.

Anton paused and looked at the young woman staring aimlessly at the clutter on his desk. He put down the board and walked over to the fridge. With two cans of beer in hand, he returned to the desk. He popped them open and offered one to Maylene.

“Thanks,” she said.

After a long sip, Anton turned to his computer and typed something into the keyboard. The screen remained static, a small number displaying on the top left corner of a window, but sounds began to play through the speakers.

Maylene swallowed then tilted her head as she listened. She heard voices: a man, a woman, and in the background maybe something from a television or stereo judging from the tinny sound.

She grimaced and pointed at the computer. “Is that…is somebody talking right now?” she asked.

Anton was staring at the screen. His head bobbed up and down.

“This is from a mic in a room somewhere?” she said trying to clarify.

A hint of a smile curled on Anton’s lips.

Maylene listened with an incredulous look on her face. The conversation she heard was innocuous enough, nothing seedy like a drug deal or such. Yet it was obvious that the people in the room weren’t aware that they were being listened in upon.

“Who are these people?” she finally asked.

“Apartment 302,” Anton replied, “Upstairs.”

Maylene’s mouth dropped. She wasn’t sure what answer she had been expecting. Certainly it wasn’t that one, however.

“You’ve bugged your neighbours?” she asked, amazed, “Why? What are they up to?”

“Mostly watching porn videos from the sounds of it,” Anton replied.

Maylene blinked. She allowed a moment to think about her next question then asked, “Are they doing something illegal?”

Anton shook his head.

“Are you doing a private investigation? Did somebody pay you? Is it like a wife cheating on her husband?”

Anton continued to shake his head.

“Then why…?”

“Just to test some equipment,” Anton said bluntly. He tapped the F7 key. The window on the screen which had been displaying the number 302 now switched to 401.

Maylene listened. Again voices came through on the speakers, but different from the previous ones. Music was playing in the background as voices talked about things like ‘positions’ and ‘holds’ and ‘watching your lines’. They were breathing heavily as if they were in the middle of a workout. She could also hear footfalls like they were briskly moving across the floors.

She pointed at the screen again. “Don’t tell me that’s another apartment, then?” she asked.

“401,” Anton acknowledged. He tapped the key again. “402.”

Maylene heard a soft female voice, almost child-like, humming a tune. There were the sounds of skittering on wooden floors, then a couple of quick barks — a dog.

“Oh my god,” Maylene covered her mouth, everything finally sinking in. “You’ve wire tapped the entire building? All the apartments?”

Anton drank deeply from his can.

“How did you…they don’t know? Is this legal?” she asked, looking up at him. Her amazement didn’t stop her from asking the obvious.

The man didn’t bother to answer.

Maylene stared at the screen, her dark eyes wide. “This…” she thought to herself, “…is so very cool.

As the sounds filled her head, she thought of the possibilities, the fun, the illicitness, of eavesdropping. It made her giddy. The thought of Anton sitting here by alone, listening intently, privy to possibly private conversations and intimate moments was also intriguing.

“Any video?” she asked, barely able to contain her excitement.

Shaking his head, Anton replied, “Just sound. I listen. That’s all I do.”

“Ah.” Maylene said.

Anton could see her enthusiasm waning a bit again. “There’s a lot you can figure out from just listening,” he said.

She looked up at the man. He was staring intently at the computer. She thought she saw the ebb of a pleased smile on his lips. She was hearing the same sounds he was hearing yet it was so obvious he was getting much more out of them. Leaning closer to the screen, her face glowing from the light, she asked, “Have you ever caught someone being…you know…naughty?”

Anton also moved closer towards the screen, brushing up against her. “Mm-hmm,” he replied, “I have.”

“Wow,” she said softly, smiling crookedly. Her heart felt a little weak when he spoke. She was curious about what he heard.

“Lots of heavy breathing, raspy and quick,” he said as if reading her mind. He spoke with a smooth deep voice, “Bodies coming together. Different gasps and moans…everyone sounds different, like a signature. It’s amazing how much people talk while they’re…”

“Having a bit of kit?” Maylene broke in with a hushed voice.

Anton smirked. “I was going to say something else, but yeah,” he said.

Blinking at the screen, Maylene turned her head. Her eyes widened when she realized Anton was looking back at her — a cool, stoic expression on his face. She suddenly noticed how close he was, his arm up against hers. She watched as his green eyes scanned her face from her eyes, down to her mouth and then back up again. Her lips quivered apart slightly as she felt her nerves race. Now she was fully aware of where she was, who she was with…how damn hot this mysterious man made her.

“So…we good? You want to get started?” Anton asked.

She hadn’t been expecting this…at least not so quickly. Not after the curious time they had spent together so far this night. Yet, as she looked at his serious and handsome face, she couldn’t find it in her voice to say “no”.

“Wh-what?” Maylene replied dreamily.

Her lips drifted towards his as if pulled in by a magnet.

A loud digital ring filled the air. Immediately, Anton stepped away from Maylene and pulled out his cell phone leaving the young woman frozen and staring across to the corner of the desk.

“Yeah,” he spoke into the handset, “What are they up to?”

The words didn’t register with Maylene. Like some lounge room statuette, she remained bent over on the desk, blinking. What was she about to do just now and why the hell wasn’t she doing it?

Anton droned a few more short sentences to the party on the other end before saying “Okay. 20 minutes.”

As he pocketed his phone and reached for his jacket, Maylene finally shook her head and stood away from the desk. “You’re going?” she asked.

“Got to check on a job.”

Maylene looked around the room anxiously. She pointed to his computer and said, “What about this? Uh…wait. Should I go with you?”

Anton adjusted his collar and shrugged. “You can stay if you want,” he replied.


“I gotta go,” he said and he strode out the door leaving the young woman standing alone in his apartment.

The voices from the computer continued to flow through the room. She didn’t hear them.

As Anton made his way down the stairs, he paused and looked back up to his apartment. His face softened as he grinned, then turned and exited the building.


“He just left?” Genevieve asked as she leaned over the empty glasses on the pub table.

Maylene pouted her lower lip and nodded.

“So what did you do?”

“Nothing,” the Chinese woman shrugged, “I just stood there for a few minutes then left.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes. It was as if she was expecting Maylene to say that she had trashed the place.

Maylene thought about how odd the whole night turned out. She should have been pissed that she had to take a cab back home after she left Anton’s place, but she wasn’t. That was the least troublesome thought she had to contend with.

First she had to face her friends and explain to them why she had just up and left them that night. She managed to quell their annoyance when they found out she left with a man. Not any man, either. The man — cool, quiet Anton. They immediately wheedled her for more details, as explicit as possible right down to whose name she cried out more that night: Anton’s or God’s.

The only way to convince them that nothing happened was to explain the weird details of the entire night. She was a little surprised by her friends’ aloof reaction to Anton’s informal surveillance setup. Unless she had caught someone in the throes of ecstasy, they didn’t really seem to care.

Her 15 minutes of fame used up for the evening, Maylene had time to sit back, chug her beer and think about Anton.

“He hasn’t called you since?” Genevieve asked.

Maylene shook her head.

“Why don’t you call him?”

“I don’t know his number,” Maylene said, “It’s blocked.”

“Bastard,” her friend clucked her tongue.

“A right bastard,” Maylene concurred.

“Fuck him and all his faux Mr.Coolness,” Genevieve spat, “You can do better!”

“God yes!” she declared.

“We’ll find you a nice guy!”

“A nice…” Maylene sighed, “Yeah, a nice guy.”

Suddenly her head was tilted low and staring into her glass again. She thought about the night over and over. There was one particular moment…Anton seemed almost glad to tell someone about what he was doing. That someone was her.

Not that it really meant anything. From what she gathered, a possible reason he hadn’t called again was that he could have just packed up his things and left the city altogether. He had that certain vibe about him. Any moment could be the last time she saw him.

Lost in thought, it took two sharp nudges against her arm from Genevieve to look up from her drink.

Maylene rubbed her arm and said, “Ow! What the bloody…?”

A little unbalanced from her imbibing, Maylene scanned the table with droopy eyes. Everyone was silent and looking up in one direction. She squinted and turned her head. Her eyes widened.


The man in the leather coat loomed over the table in front of her. He squinted back.

The shock dispelled the effects of the beer pretty quickly as Maylene sat up in her chair and tried to compose herself. First she had to swallow her heart as it thumped up her throat before she could speak.

“Ah, Anton!” she blurted, “What are you…? I haven’t…uh…do you want to sit? These are…um…these are my friends.”

The other people around the table shifted their glances between Anton and Maylene but said nothing. Anton’s attention never waivered from her, though.

He reached into his coat pocket then held out his hand in a clenched fist.

“Uh,” Maylene eked as she held out her hand. She watched as he dropped a key onto her palm. Taking a moment to examine it, she looked up and asked, “What’s this?”

“You’re going to do some redesign of my place?” he asked, “That’s why I had you come over the other night, right?”

Maylene looked at each of her friends around the table. Their lips were sealed. She was on her own here.

“Come by tomorrow,” he added, “Can’t say when I’ll be there but if I’m not, just let yourself in.”

“But,” Maylene spoke slowly, still taken aback, “Aren’t you concerned about your stuff?”

Anton smirked. “Why? Are you going to steal my things?”

“No, I’m not going to steal…,” Maylene felt herself rising out of her seat and stopped herself. Was he actually kidding with her?

“Go ahead and help yourself,” he said with a shrug. Then he turned and walked off.

Maylene watched him leave the pub then frowned at the little key resting in her palm. She looked up hesitantly. Her friends were all staring back, different levels of bemusement on their faces.

“Um…I’m not…I’m not gonna steal his stuff,” she said softly as she looked away. She was sure her face looked like a ripe tomato right at that moment.


Maylene stood outside the front entrance to the 4 Corners residences. A chilly gust of autumn air blew her long black hair across her face and she had to sweep it away from her mouth a few times. She had been pacing back and forth in front of the door for about 5 minutes lugging her school bag and portfolio with her. Now standing motionless for a moment, she took a deep sigh and moved hesitantly towards the door.

“Coming in?” A female voice chirped off to her side.

Maylene blinked and turned her head. She looked at a diminutive Asian woman, even shorter than she was. Maybe in her mid-30′s, the small woman’s apple cheeks rounded into form as she beamed a bunny-rabbit smile.

“I can get the door for you,” the little woman in the white faux-fur short coat offered.

Maylene stepped to the side and nodded. As her head tilted downward, she finally noticed the miniature dog, a dour looking pug, straining at the leash the woman was holding. It had a polka-dot bow wrapped around its orange-sized head.

“That’s, ehm…cute,” Maylene said hesitantly.

“Ah! Tickety-tockity! You have another fan! Such a cute little doggy!” The woman showered her dog with sugary praise.

The dog, ‘Tickety-tockity’, shivered and looked up at Maylene as if pleading for help.

The woman opened the door and followed Maylene into the building. The two women made their way up the flight of stairs…slowly. The woman didn’t bother to carry the dog so the canine had to rely on his miniature legs to stumble up the steps. This seemed to be of endless amusement to the woman.

She laughed, “It’s like he’s climbing out of a gopher hole!”

Over and over and over.

Maylene grimaced. If her hands weren’t already full she would have scooped up the little bugger herself. Instead she watched from a few steps below as the pug pulled itself up each step. She looked anxiously at the woman in the pink mini-skirt and leg-warmers, hoping that she would help the struggling pooch.

They finally made it to floor two.

“Oh, is this your floor?” The woman asked.

“Yeah, I’m doing something for the guy in #201,” Maylene replied.

The woman’s button eyes widened, “Ooh. You’ve got something going on with Mr.Stud?”

Just the way she was looking at her made Maylene blush. “No! No! I…uh…Mr.Stud?” she responded all flustered, “No. I just…I do interior design. That is…I’m a student, actually. He asked me to do some renos on his place.”

“Oh. Really?” the little woman said, a touch of skepticism in her voice. Her dark eyes twinkled as she spoke, “He’s never had a woman over before!”

“Is that so?” Maylene said. She leaned in closer, nudged the woman on her arm, and asked, “What about men?”

The woman froze, her mouth agape. Then someone flipped a switch and she burst out laughing like a Munchkin on crack. Maylene stepped back, startled. The dog nearly fell back down the stairs.

“Oh my goodness!” The little woman exclaimed, “He’s gay?! Really? GAY?!”

Maylene shook her head quickly switching into damage control mode as the woman’s declarations echoed up and down the stairwell. “No, no, no! I didn’t mean that!” She pleaded, “I was just kidding!”

The woman waved her hand remarked, “That explains so much!”

“Explains what?” Maylene wondered.

The woman covered her mouth with her fingers but that did little to silence her laughter as she turned and continued her way up the stairs. Her little dog looked back at Maylene then tried to keep up with the woman before she accidentally strangled him with the leash.

Maylene rolled her eyes and made her way to the apartment door. As she unlocked the door, she paused and looked back towards the stairs. The cherubic guffaws of the woman were fading slowly above her and she heard the high pitched yelp of a dog.

She grinned. “So that’s the one in #402,” she said to herself.

Inside the apartment, Maylene put down her things, switched on a lamp and silently surveyed the surroundings. She stepped carefully taking her time. The curtains were drawn closed — Anton probably liked it that way.

She peeked inside his closet, noted only a few shirts hanging there and a duffel bag on the floor obviously stuffed with more clothing, a sweater on the top. Maylene picked up the large brown sweater. She smelled it and touched it against her cheek. It was clean and warm. It was the one he was wearing the night she first talked to him at the Red Rooster.

There were no pictures, no bits of little personal trinkets on display in the room. She went into his bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet: razors, toothbrush, comb, antiperspirant, and a bottle of cologne. Picking up the bottle, she sniffed the cap and smiled. It was an attractive scent. It reminded her of Anton.

Her smile didn’t fade as she walked back into the room, spinning around leisurely. For some reason, she felt comfortable in his space. She was a little giddy anticipating when he would come home and wondering how he’d react if he knew she was being so nosey. Well, he did give her a key after all.

Maylene cocked her brow and slowly turned towards the desk. Anton’s laptop was on, a pair of headphones plugged into the audio jack. She leaned in and looked at the screen. Chewing her lower lip, she looked around the room conspicuously then picked up the headphones, noise-cancellers, and slipped them on. She rubbed her tongue against her inner cheek then tapped the F7 key.

Apt 401 “You know if you keep on packing in those Oreos there’s no way I’m gonna be able to lift you up,” a male voice piped in. It was a young, urban kind of a voice.

A woman laughed –a spritely, gentle laugh — then said, “We have to put those muscles of yours to use. Besides, these give me energy.”

“Cal, you don’t need no more energy, trust me. I’m having enough trouble keeping up with you.”

“We could paint the steps onto the floor,” the woman said with a giggle, “We’ll put little numbers in them so you can follow along.”

“Ha ha. Yeah, your uncle will really like it if we paint up his floors.”

Music started to play.

“Okay, let’s start from the second position before the lift,” the young woman instructed.

“How about a breather?”

“How about we watch ‘Dirty Dancing’ again?”

The man groaned, “I’m up! I’m up!”

Maylene continued to listen to the two of them to talk over the music. She picked up their names: Caleigh and August. It sounded like they were exerting themselves, their voices fading in and out as they moved about the room. It was as if they were doing a dance routine.

After several minutes, she tapped the computer key again.

Apt 402 There was a woman humming to herself amidst the sound of bottles being sifted around.

“How’s this one? It’s called Torrid Encounter.” A girlish-woman voice spoke followed by the sound of something spraying softly.

There was a small sneeze.

“Too strong?” The woman said, “You’re such a picky doggy, Tiki-Wiki.”

“That poor pooch,” Maylene said to herself. She listened to more innocuous chatter, more spraying, and more tortured sneezing before tapping the F7 key again. Apartments #202 and #301 were silent.

Apt 302 “Ow! Millicent, what are you…Augh!” A pained male voice filled the headphones, “Ah God! Don’t pull it around like that!”

“I can’t see the television,” a dry female voice replied.

“Well, can you let go of me first before you try to reach across the floor?” The man retorted.

“Why does it look like that? Why isn’t it like on the television?”

The man groaned, “Maybe it’s because you nearly yanked it out of my crotch!”

“Should I put it in my mouth now? Won’t it stiffen when I do that? It’s so…limp.”

The man was panting, “Wait…just wait for a sec. OW! Teeth! Teeth! Don’t bite!”

Something clattered on the floor.

“Oh dear.” Maylene cupped her mouth with her hand and blushed. She coughed a naughty chuckle into her palm. What the hell was going on in these apartments?

After listening intently for another hour or two, she had a fairly decent idea.

********* Anton came home later in the evening. He wasn’t surprised to find the apartment empty when he arrived. He figured Maylene would have given up waiting eventually.

He immediately noticed the pizza box on the table. With a curious frown he read the little post-it note stuck on the top of it: “Eat me.” Beside the box was a bottle of beer. Its attached post-it note read, “Drink me.”

Anton leaned back and blinked. His eyes narrowed as he spotted another post-it stuck on his computer screen. Picking up the beer, he walked over to the desk and looked at the note: “Listen to me.” There was a little arrow drawn on it pointing to an audio file on the screen. Anton clicked it.

“Hello! It’s me,” Maylene’s cheery voice piped in through the speakers, “I thought I might leave another video for you but since you seem more interested in audio, I figured this was the best way to get your attention.”

She chuckled.

The lilting English accent went on, “Anyway, I’ve just finished hacking into your bank account and I also registered you for the Victoria’s Secret catalogue because I think, for a man who fancies himself a cool bachelor, you’re woefully low on your nudie mag quota. I decided to order a pizza whilst checking up on your neighbours. I must say, you’ve got quite the lot of characters in this place and you must have them all over for a dinner party, tout de suite.”

Anton settled into the desk chair, leaning back and looking towards the ceiling. He sipped his beer and continued to listen.

“But alas, the prince has not returned to his castle and I, unfortunately, must attend another social. I did do some work, though. There are some paint chips and swatches on your desk as suggested by your professional interior designer.”

Anton picked up the samples. He looked at the various shades of pink and orange paint chips and the zebra and leopard skin swatches.

“Trust me,” she said, the coy tone in her voice coming through loud and clear, “For a man who eats strawberry jelly donuts, this colour scheme will be darling.”

Anton smirked.

“I also thought you needed some ‘decorative accents’ so I left you a picture to start your collection.”

He noted the small frame on his desk: a photo booth picture of a dark haired young Chinese woman grinning wickedly and flashing a gang sign.

Maylene tried to say good-bye but she was too busy laughing when the recording stopped.

Anton sat in silence for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. He took another sip of beer and inhaled deeply. He suddenly realized that he was grinning. Tapping the keyboard of his computer, he picked up the picture and sat back in the chair again and listened.

“Hello! It’s me…”


Maylene thumbed through a copy of Architectural Digest she had picked off the store rack. After a moment, she turned her head and grinned sheepishly towards Jimmy Dean standing behind his counter.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” she said with a nod, “Not a library, right?”

The proprietor of Wang’s Milk and Gifts smiled and waved his hand, “Ah, don’t worry about it at all! I don’t mind the pretty ladies in his store giving the magazines a look-see. So long as you don’t mind this respectable man giving you a look-see.”

Maylene chuckled as she looked at his bright, white smile and his eyes widen big and round. “By all means,” she replied, striking a mock pose, “Indulge.”

As the two shared in a laugh, a man entered the store and approached the counter. Maylene turned her head towards the magazine in her hand but kept her eyes on him. She grinned to herself. “Hello, John-boy,” she whispered.

John, a decidedly average looking fellow, possibly a Filipino-mix, who always seemed to have a litany of concerns on his mind, looked even a little more anxious today.

“Hey, Mistah Smith!” Jimmy Dean welcomed him, “How’s things doing with the sweetie in 302?”

“Uh, I have no idea Jimmy,” John said looking eagerly past the jovial store-keep.

“Rrr-right,” Jimmy Dean trilled his throat then laughed from his belly. John cringed.

Maylene watched as John quickly glanced around the store, flashed her something passable for a grin, and then leaned across the counter to speak to Jimmy Dean with a hushed voice. The store-keep’s mouth plopped open like a fish blowing bubbles and clapped his hands together as he snickered. John, less enthused, tried desperately to shush him.

“Ooo-wee!” Jimmy Dean whistled, “It’s par-tay time!”

“No! No! It’s not like that!” John insisted, “There’s no party!”

“Not a problem, boss!” Jimmy Dean laughed and snapped his fingers. He reached towards the shelf behind him and asked, “What’ll it be? Cherry lubed? Ribbed for the lady’s pleasure? Glow-in-dee-dark? You need an economy pack, boss? You never know.”

John rubbed his forehead. He looked like he was being flayed alive as Jimmy Dean enthusiastically spilled an assortment of condoms across the store counter. “Oh my god,” he mumbled.

Maylene buried her face between the pages of the magazine as she sputtered a laugh.

Poor John-boy.


Maylene was still sighing, catching her breath as she left the store, purchased magazine in hand. She took a few steps to the side and entered the 4 Corners residences.

She had been dropping by almost everyday for the last two weeks. Every time she arrived, Anton was never there although several times he did come home while she was still in the apartment. He never said much despite her own gregarious nature, and though he seemed cool and detached to her presence, he also didn’t seem to mind her being there, either.

They would go through the motions of discussing some of her ideas to renovate the space. Anton would simply nod at whatever she said. Neither of them appeared to be taking the project too seriously. Then the two would go about their own business in the apartment. Eventually one of them would leave the other.

His aloof attitude didn’t bother Maylene. Though she was still very attracted to the man, she didn’t feel the need to push it and gave him his space. At the behest of Genevieve and her other friends, she tried the seductively slutty look –mini-skirt, fish-nets, hooker boots, halter top– to get a rise out of him. Instead he walked past her to grab his cell-phone then left the apartment. Maylene immediately felt like a right idiot when she looked at herself in the mirror. Her friends knew it. She was a nice girl at heart.

So she settled for being comfortable with him while planning her next move.

Once he mustered an annoyed tone and asked, “Why do you keep coming here?”

Maylene replied with a playful shrug, “Because you haven’t told me to stop.”

Anton eyed her but she didn’t blink. He finally just turned and walked away.

Maylene curled her lips inward in her mouth and smiled. Such an intriguing big lug.

She also just liked being in his place, in the 4 Corners. She was enjoying eavesdropping on the neighbours, piecing their lives together.

There was 301′s John Smith who seemed to be spending very little time in his own apartment these days. The earnest man made a poor effort to conceal the fact that he and the woman in 302, Millicent, were often together watching porn movies in her apartment. Lately, they had taken to mimicking what they were watching…badly. They had an awkwardly studious approach to it all, like they were following flow charts. Their escapades came off sounding like a bumbling Laurel and Hardy skit over the headphones. Maylene often ended up nursing a belly ache from laughing rather than feeling anywhere near aroused.

Then there was Yayoi and her dog in 402. Ah, Yayoi. The sweet-like-a-gob-full-of-sugar little woman with the round face, multiple pig-tails and pitchy voice seemed to have a thing for Reality TV show hosts. Maylene listened carefully and counted the sounds of at least a dozen different vibrating sex toys the nebbish woman would apply to herself. Cooing calls of “Oh Jeff! Give me immunity!” often filled her apartment followed by high pitched squeals then a dog barking. The poor dog…Maylene had no clue as to what his name actually was since Yayoi seemed to change it on a whim.

Her Bambi-voiced mews of passion often cited “Mr.Stud” as well. “Which ‘explains so much’,” thought Maylene.

Maylene had met Caleigh and August, the two people using 401 as a dance studio, in the stairwell. She liked them, so bright and spirited. Almost the same age she was, the pearl skinned Caleigh and the cocoa toned August made for an attractive pairing though they insisted that they were just dance partners. As she listened in on them, it certainly sounded at first like all they were focused on was their dancing. But then Maylene listened more closely Through the music, through their instructions and conversations, she could hear more than either of them even may have realized or were willing to acknowledge — something just on the other side of that door of their relationship. God she hoped that she was there to listen in on them when they busted that down.

“I’m home!” Maylene sang out as she entered the apartment. She wished for once Anton would be there to hear her say that. She ached to see the man do a spit-take.

But just like every other day the apartment was empty. Maylene sighed.

“Is this really the best you could do, silly girl?” Maylene thought, “Spend your weekend afternoons in this apartment waiting for that man to come home? You’ll wait forever?”

Maylene looked around the apartment and rubbed her wrist, a worrisome thought wafting through her mind. She grimaced and shook her head. She needed to relax. A beer? No. She looked at the bathroom. With a smile she turned and walked towards it, pulling her top over her head and unbuttoning her jeans.


She felt quite refreshed as she stepped out of the shower. Already smelling the familiar scent of Anton’s soap on her wet skin, she reached for his towel to dry herself off. It was softer than she thought it would be. The man was full of secrets.

“Are you sure you aren’t stalking him?” she laughed to herself.

Tilting her head, she patted down her long, straight black hair as she looked into the mirror. An attractive young woman looking content with herself looked back. Her pink lips drew to a broad smile revealing alluring dimples and narrowing her already sleek, cashew-shaped eyes. Maybe she wasn’t Anton’s type?

“No that won’t do,” she said aloud, “None of that, Maylene. You’re a sultry, sexy bitch.”

She laughed.

After slipping into her pink and blue panties, she was about to put her bra and top back on when she paused. That glimmer returned to her eye.

Padding across the apartment floor, barefoot and topless, she went to the closet.

“Okay. Now this is definitely stalking,” she admitted. That didn’t stop her from pulling on Anton’s brown sweater. She was practically wearing a tent, the neck of the sweater slipping over one of her smooth shoulders, and the bottom dropping halfway down her bare thighs. Immediately she felt warm on the inside and out.

Now she felt it was time for a beer and she strode over to the fridge. Cracking open a can, she sipped the bit of beer spritzing over the top and walked over to the desk. Seating herself in the swivel chair, she drew one of her bare legs up to her chest, foot on the seat, and slipped on the headphone. She tapped the laptop keys.

“How are we doing today, folks?” she said.

“Ahg! Ahg! Holy shit! Get it off! Get it off!” a man screamed, his voice pitching high in panic.

“Bad dog! Down! Down!” the distinctly fluffy voice of Yayoi commanded.

The distressed man groaned in mortal pain.

A dog growled harshly.

“Let go of him now!” Yayoi insisted, “Those aren’t Tikki’s fetch balls! No! No!”

The man’s voiced pitched even higher as the dog’s growl intensified.

Maylene nearly tore the headphones off of her head, the cacophony from #402 stabbing her eardrums. She quickly tapped the keys again.

#202 was its usual dead silence. She figured it must be vacant though Anton had said somebody was in there.

#301 was quiet which meant Maylene knew where John was right now.

Tinny, hollow voices sounded from #302. Over accentuated breathing and groaning. Three-note electro music on never-ending loop. Lot’s of “Yeah baby”, “Like that” and “Fuck me”.

John and Millicent were watching porno again.

“Look can you put down the notes?” John said anxiously.

“How do we decide which one to use?” Millicent said in her usual deadpan voice, “What’s a ‘tickler’?”

“It doesn’t matter! They all do the same thing!”

“Wait, there’s a movie that had this one,” Millicent stated.

John sighed wearily.

Maylene shared his sigh. “Ah, Jeezus you two,” she said rolling her eyes, “Just bugger her already would you John-boy?”

She took a long, deliberate gulp of beer as she tapped the keyboard again.

A familiar song was playing in #401. It was the swanky-hip tune “Mercy” by Duffy. Maylene smiled, bobbed her head, and tapped her bare shin to the sultry rhythm of the song. Yes, a great tune from a UK gal. She tilted her head, curious. She didn’t know that August and Caleigh were dancing to this song.

“Oh god August! Unn!”

Maylene’s heart missed a beat as she froze in her chair. What did she hear just now? She sat up and leaned closer to the glowing screen, listening. Through the music, she heard heavy breathing, not from a couple in the middle of a dance, but the soft coos and hushed gasps of a young woman in unbridled ecstasy and the guttural groans and satisfied hum of a hungry, passionate young man.

Maylene slicked the tip of her tongue along her lips, moistening them as they strayed open. It sounded like Caleigh and August had finally stopped dancing.

The song ended, drifting into silence, just as the voices of the two in #401 picked up in volume. Not that they were saying anything coherent. Words had given way to desperate and illicit sighs and moans. Sounds of wet, breathless kisses filled Maylene’s ears. She blinked, shifting her eyes around the room, the sounds so vivid, she could almost feel their presence in there with her. She touched her finger tips with the tip of her tongue, feeling her own unsteady breaths.

She heard Caleigh’s breath suddenly quicken, then stop for a moment, followed by a long, enticing, moaning gasp. She listened to August grunt with a stern determination.

Maylene closed her eyes. Oh god. He was in her. The sound of two bodies coming together was unmistakable, undeniable. She envisioned the solid, boyish-man August thrusting his black cock into the lithe figure of Caleigh, her legs spread wide. She could hear it as flesh met flesh and mouths entwined. Their underlying passion had been released. In her mind’s eye, they were beautiful together.

The young woman at the computer sighed deeply and slipped her fingers into her mouth, slicking them with her saliva. Her eyes still closed, her ears listening intently, she slid her hand down her body, and slipped it under the waistband of her panties.

As gasps and groans filled her mind, Maylene slid her fingers up and down the tender line of her pussy. She leaned back into the chair, tilting her head over the back rest, letting her long hair spill down. Her fingers began to circle, massaging more deeply, teasing her soft folds apart.

Caleigh was crying out August’s name with uncontrolled fervour now. The sounds of slapping flesh intensified. Good lord, the two young dancers were really going for it now. The audacious desire she was listening to made Maylene shudder. She rubbed her clit, squeezed it between her fingers. Her own delicious moans mingled with the ones she was hearing: gasps, gulps, passionate cries for more. August and Caleigh faded away into erotic oblivion. In their place, was one man — a large, stoic, handsome man whose smell and look she could never dispel.

“Anton, uhh-mmm…,” she groaned as her back arched sharply in the chair. With her other hand gripping onto the edge of the desk top, her moist fingers worked feverishly. She repeatedly moistened her lips with her tongue. She swallowed and gasped. Her slender legs shot out straight as her whole body strained.

“Ahh!” she cried as she spilled onto her fingers in a dripping mess. Her body trembled and ached as the warm release coursed through her. She rolled her body forward as she continued to rub herself and she collapsed onto the desk, sucking in wheezy breaths of air.

“Oh god, Anton,” she murmured, her eyes opening dreamily. She shuddered again as she listened to Caleigh and August’s torrid session climax in a harmony of blissful moans and raspy grunts. With a sigh, her eyes slowly closed again.


Over an hour later, Maylene awoke from her pleasure induced nap. She lifted her head off the table, rubbing her cheek and opening her eyes very slowly. She moaned gently. It felt like she had a hangover.

The room was darker now, only the evening glow seeping through the curtains struggling against the darkness. Maylene had fallen asleep with her fingers still touching her pussy. She felt the slight dampness of her panties as she pulled her hand out. Silence surrounded her, the noise cancelling headphones doing their job. She listened closely — it was quiet in 401. Either Caleigh and August had left or they were sleeping. Between the dancing and that lusty calorie torching session, those two bodies could probably have used a serious recharge.

Maylene brushed aside her hair and rubbed her eyes roughly. She whined softly, feeling the frustration swell within her.

“This is really pathetic now,” she croaked.

Sitting in the dark. Hanging around like some stray cat waiting for a handout. Listening to the intimate affairs of other people like audio porn. Masturbating to it. Waking up feeling like she just had a one night stand without even having the benefit of experiencing a good stiff fucking. She felt cheated.

And for what? Where the hell was Anton anyway?

Enough. The mystery behind the mysterious man was gone. That was it…enough.

She glared at the computer screen, aligning her thoughts. With a couple of clicks, she opened a new recording and leaned closer to the microphone.

“Listen,” she said calmly, “Because I know you like to listen, Anton. I’m leaving now– for good. I don’t know if you care or not…and I guess that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

She paused to think, refusing to ramble on aimlessly, then said, “I like you — a lot. I don’t know why. You’re a darkly intriguing man Mister…Mister…god, I don’t even know your last name. But I don’t want to get any…deeper into this. I can’t. Because I don’t know what this is. I can’t invest myself in this.”

Her voice began to waiver slightly. Maylene knew she had to wrap this up. “I don’t know if the next time you leave will be the last time you’ll leave,” she eked, feeling the lump in her throat hindering her voice, “And you probably wouldn’t even say good-bye would you? You stupid git. You stupid, handsome, fucking…”

The room brightened suddenly. Maylene’s head snapped back as she looked around her quickly, gasping. She spun around in the chair. Anton stood by the lamp beside the futon staring at her morosely.

Maylene fumbled with the headphones, removing them and tossing them onto the desk. “Christ,” she gasped, “How long have you been there?”

She rubbed away the puffiness in her eyes and gazed at him more clearly. The big man wasn’t standing as tall as he usually did. She could see him breathing hard. His long, leather jacket and his shirt looked a bit disheveled. On even closer inspection, she could see that his hair was mussed and there were some big cherry red blemishes on his face.

“What…what happened?” she asked softly.

Anton was clearly distracted, his head turning left and right, looking around as if he didn’t know which direction to step towards first. Finally he made his way to the desk. Standing beside Maylene, he rummaged around the clutter, pocketing a few random items in his coat.

She noticed the red and purple bruises on his knuckles. “Anton,” Maylene said, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he replied still picking through the items. He stopped and finally looked at Maylene, “I’m listening. I’m good. You’re…uh…is that my sweater?”

Maylene tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing, as she looked at him closely. She read something in his eyes. More importantly she picked up something in his voice. He was distracted, his mind working on something –a plan. Her mouth slipped open when she realized what it was.


“Give me a second,” he said as he turned and walked to his closet.

She watched him carefully for a moment before lowering her gaze towards the floor. Feelings of anxiety and urgency gnawed inside her belly. She closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, calming herself, clearing her mind.

Anton was picking through boxes scattered in his closet when he heard Maylene speak, “Anton.”

He stood up and turned towards her just in time to see her pull the big brown sweater over her head. She looked down at it as she held it in her hands, twisting it, then she calmly draped it on the chair. Barefoot, she wore nothing but her panties and a focused look on her pretty, somber face. She folded her fingers at her belly as she tried to steady her breath, her round, curving breasts trembling slightly as her chest rose and fell.

Anton stood motionless, his face expressionless, as the slender young woman slowly made her way towards him. She came within a foot of him and looked up with her deep brown eyes. He frowned as he looked at her, but his eyes never left hers.

“Good,” Maylene sent her thoughts to him, “Just…look at me.”

Their eyes tethered, the petite woman reached up and pushed his heavy leather coat off his shoulders. Anton let her do so, letting it slide down his arms and falling with a crumpled thump onto the floor. He could see the earnest look in her eyes, the nervous tremble on her bare chest.

Maylene shifted on her feet. She looked down to his waist. Her upper lip curled under her lower one as she pulled her long hair back behind her ear with one hand while the other gingerly reached for and lifted the bottom of his Henley shirt. As soon as it was past his belly button, Anton reached down and lifted it the rest of the way and over his head. It was the only moment he took his eyes off of her.

As Anton pulled the tight shirt off his arms, Maylene used the moment to admire the man’s rugged body. He really was a tall, solid man. Her hands slowly reached out and touched his skin above his stomach. Like touching pristine marble, her fingertips slid around the edges of his abs, circled his belly button. Both of them watched as her hands drifted upward pushing against his pectorals, her fingers and palms brushing past his wide dark nipples. Maylene lifted herself to her tiptoes, exposing the sultry definition in her slim legs, as she wrapped her hands behind his thick neck.

Anton felt her soft, warm, bare bosom gently cushion against his body as she leaned up against him. Her body moved to the rhythm of his breathing.

“Hold me,” Maylene said.

After a moment’s hesitation, Anton slid his hands up along her thighs and around her waist. He clutched her at the curve of her smooth back just above her panty-line.

The young woman’s fine, small lips parted. She moistened them. “Kiss me,” she said, her lilting voice beginning to crack.

Anton’s jaw was set as firmly as his eyes. He continued to just feel her heart beat –listen to it– pulse from deep within her chest. He could feel how anxious the young woman was, how desperate she was to give herself over to him. It had a calming effect on him.

Maylene closed her eyes as she saw him tilt his head towards her. She felt his lips firmly press onto hers. She inhaled deeply, and pulled herself higher to meet his kiss with equal intensity.

Their two bodies were motionless, only their lips moved, folding over one another over and over, mingling their taste and breath. As their lips parted, Maylene lowered herself down slightly, putting space between their bodies. Still holding onto him around his neck, she looked down to his belly.

For a second, she said nothing as Anton looked down at the top of her head. Then he heard her say in a barely audible whisper, “Make love to me.”

She thought it was a touch more subtle than “I want you to fuck me till my skull bursts, you goddamn bastard.”

Her eyes shifted unsteadily as she waited for his reply. It was like an eternity. Then she felt his fingers under her chin, tilting her head upwards. The moment she saw him, he caught her lips with a smoldering, deep kiss that sent her heart-rate shooting up a few notches.

Maylene hummed a sigh as she lowered herself, letting her hands slip out from behind his neck. She took his large hands in hers. A seductively playful smile on her face, she shimmied backwards –toe-to-heel, toe-to-heel– pulling Anton slowly along with her towards the futon. The man still looked quite serious, but he followed her closely.

When she felt the cushion of the futon push up against her calves, Maylene sat down. She raised her eyes up, narrow like crescent moons. Anton ran his hands through her hair, his touch making her swoon. Her hands quickly went to work. With a determined look, she undid the man’s belt buckle, her fingers slipping on the stiff leather but undaunted. She nearly broke a nail pulling out the button of his jeans but quickly pulled his fly down with a swift tug. She was so focused that she never noticed the subtle curl on Anton’s lips. He was amused by the little frown on her pretty face as she struggled to pull his tight jeans past his hips.

“You’re not even going to help me, are you?” she fumed inwardly.

As if on cue, Anton pushed the jeans, along with his briefs, down to his thighs. Maylene was immediately confronted by his lengthy cock. Her gasp and gulp were clearly audible.

Just as she was about to reach for it, Anton leaned across to the lamp by the futon and switched it off.

Suddenly in the dark, Maylene said, “No. Wait. Why did you…”

“It’s alright,” Anton calmed her from above. He was only a large, vague shadow in her eyes.

Maylene felt him take her hand. He guided it slowly until she touched his cock. Maylene smiled. It twitched slightly as she carefully curled her fingers around it and raised it to her lips. She stroked it gently up and down from the base to the tip, feeling it stiffen, then she sank her mouth over it.

Anton breathed a stream of air through his lips as he felt his cock rub inside her mouth and nudge up against her throat. He listened to her hums and muffled moans as she worked his shaft with her tongue and lips.

Maylene quickly had the saliva built up in her mouth. It glossed her lips and dribbled down her chin as she worked it along his hardening length and massaged it onto his tender balls. She loved the feel of his tip in her mouth, dragging it along her tongue and pushing it against her inner cheek. When she heard the big man groan, she slipped his cock from her mouth and paused, amazed of the sound she had elicited from him. She looked up. She couldn’t see his face clearly but she heard his deep, satisfied breaths. Rolling her tongue across her upper lip she wrapped her mouth around him again, redoubling her efforts. She sucked hungrily on his cock wanting to hear his sighs and groans.

Anton reached down, entwining his fingers in the silky strands of her hair. He felt her head bob back and forth with vigour. His other hand slipped down her chest, fondling her round breast, giving her erect nipple a firm squeeze and drawing a stilted gasp from her full mouth.

Maylene’s fine brows angled sharply as she pumped his shaft hard into her mouth. Between the tip of his hard cock pushing against her throat and the feel of the man’s touch as he caressed her tits, she was having difficulty finding her breath. Finally, like a diver emerging from the depths, she pulled her mouth off of his length and whipped her head back, loosing a wheezing gasp for air.

Hearing the young woman groan like that nearly caused Anton to blow his load across her face. He struggled hard to ease the tightness in his stomach and gluts as well as the surge in his throbbing cock.

Breathing through his mouth, he pushed his pants and briefs off his feet. Holding onto Maylene’s shoulders, he lowered the woman onto her back on the futon. She shifted her body, settling into the cushion as the muscular, silhouette of Anton moved between her legs. He prowled above her body, then he lowered himself to kiss her. The tip of his hard cock hung just low enough to nudge up against her skin and send a tingle through her.

They locked their lips together, sucking and licking one another’s tongues. Anton inhaled deeply. She smelled like his soap and sweater. Downward he moved his lips, kissing her chin and throat. Maylene shifted and curved her body as he touched her breasts with his large rough hands. She gasped as she felt his lips wrap around her nipple and then suckle hard on it. He moved back and forth between her rounded tits taking his time to bring both of her nipples to firm, strained attention.

Maylene continued to squirm with delight as he tasted the smooth flesh around her belly button with a deliberate lick of his tongue. Fuck. She couldn’t believe how he was taking his time right now but she braced herself as she felt him hook the straps of her panties, her last bit of clothing, and slide them down her legs. He knelt back, lifting her legs to remove the panties, kissing her ankles and top of her feet.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see more of Anton as he kneeled between her legs. She could see the rugged symmetry of his muscular body from the glow of evening light seeping through the curtains. She watched him as he bent down, lowering his face between her thighs, feeling the stubble on his chin and jaw brush against her skin.

“Oh! Oh god!” Anton heard Maylene stammer as he dragged his tongue up along the slit of her cunt. Her body was squirming as he licked her repeatedly and he wrapped his arms around her thighs to keep her hips still.

Maylene groaned and sighed, feeling his coarse tongue nuzzle her petals apart. Her belly arched upwards but his strong arms held her lower body down. She drew her legs up, rubbing her feet against his back as his deliciously enticing licks and kisses sent her nerves reeling. When his finger hooked in between her folds she bucked hard against his restraining arm and she moaned aloud.

Anton slid his stiff finger into her as he sucked on her clit. She was a tasty little nymph, and her coos and cries urged him on. She was dripping wet.

“Oh fuck, Anton!” Maylene gasped. She reached down and pulled hard on his short hair, yanking his head away from her quivering snatch.

Her strength and aggression seemed to startle both of them as she managed to shimmy out from Anton’s grasp and force him onto his back on the futon. Anton focused his eyes and could see the intense look on Maylene’s face as she straddled his torso. She grasped at his cheeks as she planted her mouth over his. She kissed and licked him like she was binging on ice cream. Certainly she never felt anything so fine and tasty on her lips before.

She clutched at his head, lifting it up as she drew her chest close. She pulled his face into her breasts and the man obliged her with more kisses and long sucks on her tits. She tossed her hair back and gasped. Finally she wiggled her body downward. She felt his cock rub along her skin as she kissed and nibbled gently on his nipples. She dragged his shaft across her breasts, the stiff length nudging between supple mounds. As she knelt between his legs, she swept her long hair to one side of her head and held it as she bent down towards his cock. She rubbed it against the side of her face, reveling in its sexy feel of smooth skin over rigid, hot muscle. Then she slipped her mouth over it again. Anton looked down. The dimly lit image of Maylene kneeling between his legs, her round ass sticking up and her head bobbing up and down with verve, was something to savour but the hungry, wet slurps and gasps she made would definitely linger like a dream. He could feel the pressure on his cock as the young woman sucked him like a tight, moist vacuum. Again, she was bringing him to the brink.

But Maylene had no intention of finishing the man off like this. With a sloppy pop from her lips, his cock withdrew from her mouth. Once again, he slender woman crawled up and straddled Anton’s waist. She raised herself to her knees and reached down to position the man’s rigid shaft. Feeling the potent head nuzzle against her tender opening, Maylene shifted her hips and sank slowly down.

September 2018
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