large breasts

The delivery man went into the kitchen to make his call. I figured he didn’t want giggling female voices to tip off his manager that the car trouble story was a shuck. In a minute or so he was back—totally naked. His cock was easily fourteen inches long flaccid, and the diameter of a kielbasa.

“Whoo!” Karen cheered. “I like what you got dangling.” It was so uncharacteristic of her I rubbed my eyes—and other parts of my anatomy.

“Name’s Jerell,” he said, offering her his hand. Instead of taking it, Karen gently grasped the shaft of his penis, stroked it in greeting and said, “Pleasure, Jerell. I always like to know a man’s first name before I suck his cock.”

“That’s a good rule to live by,” Jerell said. He turned to Nicole, who covered her face and gave an embarrassed laugh.

“You sure you up for this?” he asked her.

“Only if she goes first,” Nicole said, still shielding her face.

“Fine by me,” Karen replied. “First served, first cum.”

“You fulla rules I like, girl,” Jerell cackled, clapping his hands together. “Only, you want me to take a lil sponge bath first? I been deliverin’ for hours and I be kinda funky for what ladies got in mind.”

“Wouldn’t hear of it, Jerell,” Karen said in a breathy voice filled with desire. “I love the taste of cock sweat.”

The next song, Rick James’ SUPER FREAK, began playing. My Karen inched lower and lower to the beat of the music until her face was mere inches away from the head of Jerell’s cock. Jerell was semi-erect already and doing something that made his cock jerk and jump no-hands to the same beat. Karen took his shaft in her hands and jacked him once. Then she kissed the tip and licked it all over. The head of Jerell’s cock after that much stimulation from Karen had grown to the size of a large heart-shaped plum—the the kind that would win you a blue ribbon at the state fair.

“Do you like it when I lick the little hole at the end?” she asked Jerell.

“Girl, I like everything you do, long as you keep on doin’.”

Nicole watched intently as Karen grasped the base of Jerell’s penis, took its massive head into her mouth and eagerly sucked on it. “I don’t think I can deep throat you,” she joked.

“Do the best you can,” Jerell sighed. Karen took several inches of the shaft into her mouth, letting go with a pop after each plunge. Soon his cock grew so stiff from her attentions that it resembled a huge police nightstick covered in black leather. Karen’s slick saliva made it glisten as though it had been treated with Armor All when seen in the twinkling Christmas lights. Jerell groaned with pleasure. Waiting in the wings, Nicole seemed to study Karen’s technique as she pondered what it would be like, knowing she soon would be sucking Jerell’s cock herself.

Jerell began pumping his hips, pushing the length of his cock into Karen’s mouth. She gagged once, then came up for air and said, “Sorry,” before taking a deep breath and going down for more. But try as she might, Karen could never take in more than about the first eight inches of Jerell’s immense tool.

Jerell’s moans grew louder and more intense as Karen sucked away. When he groaned, “I’m fittin’ to cum.” Karen withdrew and poised her face directly under the tip of his cock and jacked him furiously, her mouth opened wide and tongue extended.

Then the doorbell rang. “Oh, man!” Jerell said.

Karen reached up and grasped Jerell’s cock head with thumb and forefinger, pinched down on it firmly for a count of three and said, “Hold that thought.”

“But girl, I’m fittin’ to cum!” Jerell protested.

Karen was already halfway to the door. “Tell her,” she said, pointing to Nicole.

By now I was so excited, watching my conservative wife bring a powerfully hung black man nearly to orgasm, that I paid no attention as Karen got the door. Rather, I focused the Ipod on Jerell and Nicole, finding it hard to catch my breath I was so aroused by the prospect of secretly witnessing inexperienced Nicole’s maiden voyage into the wonderful world of fellatio, particularly with such an imposing partner.

Nicole backed away at first, staring at Jerell’s fully erect Mandingo penis towering in full view. “C’mon, girl, hep me out,” Jerell pleaded, “I’m fittin’ to cum.”

Saying, “I—I don’t think I can do that,” Nicole scurried away a few steps. Directly past the room divider where I was hiding. “Omigod!” she screamed when she saw me there naked, video recording the whole thing. “Omigod! There’s a naked guy hiding behind here and he’s got a camera!”

“Say what?” Jerell shouted, outraged. He followed her, his cock still erect, until he stood over me crouched on the floor and demanded, “What the fuck you think you doin’, man?”

“I’m her husband,” I offered weakly. “Karen’s my wife.”

“You one a them pervert muthafuckas wanna play hide and seek, make a movie while you watch your ol’ lady suckin’ some nigga cock? That your game?”

Karen said, “Jerell please. We were only making the video for our own pleasure, to remember and treasure the experience, you know?” I noticed for the first time that Karen had once again answered the door naked. This time a zaftig woman in her late forties and wearing a pizza delivery uniform stood watching us. Her blonde hair was cropped short. She was wearing plus-size jeans tight enough to show a distinct camel toe. Even from across the room I could clearly notice how her full breasts strained at the buttons of her uniform shirt.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little peekaboo video, long as it’s done in good taste and kept private, I always say.”

“I like your attitude, Joanie.”

“Thanks, Karen.” Addressing us all she went on, “I was just telling Karen here how I’ve already seen it all and done most of it. Now that I get a gander at Jerell here, I wouldn’t mind joining in. I prefer black men sexually, you want to know the truth.”

“Well get undressed Joanie. Let me introduce you around. This gentleman of course is Jerell, the guest of honor for the evening. This is my husband Jeremy—the videographer, and this sweet young thing beside him is Nicole. Nicole’s partial to manual stim by another woman, but she’s confided to us that she wouldn’t mind sucking a black cock—Jerell’s cock, to be precise. As a matter of fact, Nikki and I were right in the middle of a blow job contest when you rang the bell.”

“That stud can ring my bell anytime,” Joanie said, giving Jerell a close visual inspection from ten paces. She had taken her jeans down, exposing a pair of white panties which she quickly slipped off, and unbuttoned her pizza shirt to expose an old-fashioned cantilevered brassiere that must have been 45DD. “Who wants to help me with this here?” she asked, reaching behind her to unhook the rear closure.

“I love a white woman with a clean-shaved pussy,” Jerell remarked, staring at Joanie’s genitals.

“Then you come to the right place, Darlin’,” Joanie said. Turning to Karen she asked, “What was you sayin’ about a BJ contest?”

“Oh, yes. You’re welcome to watch or even join in if you like. Jeremy will video the entire thing, but the video is for our personal use only. Absolute discretion guaranteed, right, Jeremy?”

“Right,” I muttered, scrambling to my feet. My cock was still hard and jutting out and upward at a forty-five degree angle.

“Which of you takes care of poor Jeremy while Jerell is judging your blow job contest?” Joanie asked mischievously, moving a step closer to me.

“I guess you’re elected, Joanie,” I said, looking Karen directly in the eye. “If you’re willing to, that is.”

“Ready, willing and able, Darlin.’ That is, if Karen here don’t mind.”

“Go ahead if you want,” Karen replied, a bit coldly I thought. Joanie didn’t waste any time positioning herself, kneeling down in front of me and taking my cock in her mouth as though that service was all part of the pizza delivery. She looked up into my eyes, smiled mischievously and took the head of my stiff cock into her mouth. Her swirling tongue and bobbing head gave me a profound thrill that made me quiver right down to my spine as soon as she began sucking. I reached down to caress her tits. She had huge dark areolas and erect nipples that extended nearly a full inch outward. She interrupted her labor to tell me, “I love when you do that, Darlin’. Keep on touchin’ my boobies like that.”

For her part, Karen somewhat angrily resumed sucking Jerell off, renewing her heroic efforts at deep throat. From time to time she coughed and gagged when she tried to take him all in, but when he asked whether she wanted to take a breather she waved him away and kept going.

Joanie was bringing me close. Seeming to sense my imminent climax she said, “Y’all can cum in my mouth or on my face if you like. Either way, I’m ready for ya. Just watch out for my hair, okay?”

Before I could agree, the doorbell rang again. Karen withdrew from sucking Jerell and called out, “Nikki, could you get the door?”

Naked and apprehensive, Nicole nevertheless complied. But when she threw open the door stark naked, there was a black policeman in uniform standing at the door.


Kristen thrashed around the bed, tossing and turning, a light sheen of perspiration coating her tanned, toned body. A sound, somewhere between a moan and a sob, escaped her lips as she submitted to the dream. Although you couldn’t see it, her eyes were rapidly darting back and forth beneath her eyelids, the product of the deep REM sleep that controlled her writhing form.

Anyone watching her as she tossed and turned could see her agitated state, or perhaps, excited state would be a better description. She was breathing rapidly as evidenced by her rising and falling chest. Her voluptuous, surgically enhanced breasts lay encased in a thin white tank top that had ridden up on her stomach, baring the sun tattoo that encircled her pierced navel.

Her nipples were angry, so hard that they threatened to tear through the fabric of her inconsequential T-shirt, which was way too flimsy to hide her blood-engorged areole.

Her legs were those of a runner — tanned and firm — and at the moment they were entwined in the sheet, one outside the covers, and the other hopelessly tangled in the mess of bed coverings.

She squeezed her thighs together tightly as if she were repulsing an invader and then abruptly flipped over onto her stomach, opening her legs and pressing her pubis against the mattress. Her white-lace panties had ridden up the crack of her ass, pulling the fabric around her pubic area tightly against her. You could see the muscles of her ass flex as she subconsciously thrust against the balled up sheet between her legs.

She abruptly flipped back over, this time wide awake, and let out a moan of frustration, slamming her fists down onto the mattress.

“Aaaagggh!” she groaned. “If my husband doesn’t get home soon, I’m going to mount a telephone pole.”

She smiled to herself at that word picture, deciding that maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea.

“After all, the neighbors might get the wrong idea.”

She glanced at the clock beside the bed. It read 2 a.m., and this was the third time this week she had woken up in a state of shall we say “exasperation.”

As she lay there wondering if she should try to go back to bed, her fingers trailed down to the juncture between her legs and confirmed what she already knew.

“Yep! They’re soaked.”

Her panties were so wet, either from sweat or “something” else, that they were almost transparent. If one cared to look, he or she would be afforded a clear view of her nearly hairless nether regions.

Kristen toyed with the idea of toying with herself, but decided to get on the computer and see if her hubby was online and available for some late-night video chat sex.

“Why masturbate alone when you can masturbate with someone?” she always said.

Her husband, Jason, traveled a lot with his job; hence, her seemingly constant state of horniness. He wouldn’t be home for two more days.

Before stepping into her home office, she detoured by the kitchen and grabbed an already-opened bottle of chardonnay from the fridge and a wine glass from the cupboard. Padding back to her office in bare feet, panties and tank top, Kristen chuckled at the thought that someone might pick just that moment to glance through the window and see the nearly naked woman strutting through her living room.

“Let ‘em look,” she thought, more than just a little proud of her body. Sure, it wasn’t all completely natural, but she looked damn good, and most of it was due to hard work.

Kristen hadn’t always been the toned, sculpted beauty she was now. Just a few short years ago she was dramatically overweight and decidedly unattractive. Then she met Jason.

Jason was a fitness nut who looked as good naked as he did in clothes. Surprisingly, though, he did not look down on her because of her weight. In fact, he seemed to innately recognize the inner beauty that lurked beneath her plain plump exterior.

Truth be told, Kristen had been damaged goods. Growing up with an alcoholic father, she had, as they say, “issues.” Her over-eating problem was the direct result of trying to control her world when, as a child, she had had no control over her drunken father’s tirades that ripped her self-esteem to shreds.

Jason had changed that.

His steadfast love had finally convinced her to trust. It took years, but eventually, she was able to open up emotionally to him and let him see her for who she really was — flaws and all — and to her delight, he was still deeply and madly in love with her. She didn’t really understand it, but the experience was liberating. That, coupled with her father’s longtime sobriety and her renewed relationship with him, put Kristen in a place she had never been before — a loving, healthy relationship with a chance to really grow as a person.

With that foundation, she turned her attention to her appearance. Yes, Jason loved her just as she was, but she didn’t love herself that way. One day, she asked Jason if he would take her to the gym with him. He agreed and even lined up a personal trainer for her to work with — a woman named Rachel.

Kristen also scheduled an appointment with a dietician to learn how to control and improve her eating habits. Through discipline and sacrifice she began to steadily drop the weight and get in shape. Little did Jason realize that he had created a monster.

Ironically, her mildly obsessive compulsive behavior came in handy when it came to exercise and dieting. It helped her get to the gym five days a week and lay off the comfort foods.

Eighteen months later, she had lost 75 pounds, but she was shocked to realize that her skin, instead of being tight and firm, now sagged over her much-reduced belly. In addition, her once plump breasts were now decidedly smaller and gravity was taking its toll.

Turning to the Internet, she began researching plastic surgery, and with the support of Jason, scheduled a breast augmentation and tummy-tuck procedure to complete her transformation.

Recovery from the surgery took much longer than she anticipated, but when all was said and done, she had a killer body, especially for a woman in her late 30s.

The sun tattoo around her navel — an open circle with rays extending out in all directions —had been her gift to herself for all she had accomplished, and Jason was thrilled by the sexy design and how she was now more willing to wear sexy (but tasteful) clothes when they went out.

“Heck, after spending $10,000 on that body, I want to show it off,” he said half-jokingly.

Kristen poured herself a glass of wine, plopped down in her desk chair and propped a long leg on her desk. The cool air in the room reminded her that she was still damp “down there.” She launched iChat to see if Jason was online. He was on the East Coast this week, so the chances of him still being up this late were small, but she kept her fingers crossed.

When Jason had first taken the job as a software trainer, he had purchased a second iSight video camera so that he and Kristen could communicate visually when he was away from home. The little camera was great for staying in touch. They could video chat in real time, and he often said that just seeing her helped make the long time away bearable. Of course, they occasionally did a little more than just chat, she recalled, smiling to herself.

The software launched quickly, but she was dismayed to see that Jason’s name in her buddy list was grayed out, meaning he wasn’t online.

“Curses,” she said out loud. “Foiled again!” quoting a line from one of her favorite cartoons she watched as a kid.

Kristen decided to go with Plan B. She launched her Web browser and typed in Clicking on the “Stories and Pics” link, she perused the general topics.

“What am I in the mood for?” she asked herself.

As she began going down the list, one of the first items caught her eye.

“Anal?” She felt her body flush at the idea. She and Jason had tried that a couple of times early on in their relationship, but she didn’t like it and was reluctant to try again. Still, the thought of such a nasty deed made her a little weak in the knees. Besides, reading about it is different from actually doing it.

“No, not tonight,” she decided.

She continued to scan the list: BDSM, Erotic Couplings, Group Sex, Lesbian Sex … hmmm?

A few on the list did nothing for her.

Gay Male, Nonconsensual, Incest/Taboo …

“Yuck,” she thought. “What a turn off.”

“Lesbian Sex,” she decided. “I’m in the mood for a delicate touch.”

Clicking on the Lesbian Sex link, Kristen began to scan through the titles that appeared. One of the things she liked about was the way that each time you visited the site, you were presented with a different batch of stories from the long list of submissions.

Scrolling down, she read the titles and the brief synopses. She spotted a submission by one of her favorite writers, “SelenaKittyn.”

She had often wondered about “SelenaKittyn.” She was one of the more prolific writers on literotica, and her stories covered a wide range of topics. She and Jason had both gotten off a number of times to her work. The highest compliment, she figured, you could give to a writer of erotica. One of their favorites was a series titled “Babysitting the Baumgartners,” about a young babysitter who becomes the plaything of a hot couple during a family vacation. Group sex was definitely on Kristen and Jason’s fantasy list.

Kristen didn’t often visit without Jason, but that’s not to say that she had never done it before. She clicked on the link for the story titled “C-u-n-n-i-l-i-n-g-u-s.”

“Mmmmm,” that sounds promising, she thought.

She began reading a story about two college roommates discussing the inadequacies of men in the cunnilingus department and by the fifth screen, she could feel that all-too-familiar throbbing between her legs. The fingers of her left hand drifted down to her panties, and she lightly traced an outline around her labia. Using the nail of her index finger, she ran it up the length of her slit slowly until reaching her clit. As the nail grazed her sensitive bud, she quivered and felt the heat rise in her body.

In the story, the carefree and open Christy was showing her shy, reserved roommate, Dawn, how to teach her boyfriend to eat pussy.

Christy convinces Dawn to let her demonstrate first hand, or rather first tongue, the finer points of oral sex. It isn’t long before Christy has Dawn’s jeans and panties stripped off an her face buried between the shy girl’s legs, making her pussy throb from the tongue-lashing she is getting from Christy.

“This story is good,” Kristen thought, “but I need a little help.”

Without taking her foot off the desk, Kristen stretched to reach over to the desk drawer and fished around inside until she found what she was looking for. Out came her hand, clutching her prize — a small pink silicone vibrator shaped like a penis.

The vibrator was much smaller than a real penis — or at least much smaller than Jason’s penis — but it was perfect for what she had it mind.

Because of its small size, the penis vibrated at a faster rate than some of her larger dildos. Its realistic shape and ridges added to the experience.

With one hand on the mouse, she allowed the other holding the dildo to drift down to her panty-clad pussy. She briefly let go of the mouse to twist the little knob on the end, which set the tiny dick a-buzzing. She kept it on a low setting at first. She was in no hurry.

As the little dildo buzzed against her box, Kristen returned to the story where Christy was now seeking a little tit for tat from the at-first reluctant Dawn.

“Are you ready for your lesson?” she (Christy) murmured, grabbing a pillow and laying back on it. Her knees were up and open, and I (Dawn) could see a little glistening pink between her lips.

“In… what?” I asked, watching her hand slide down between her legs, finding her clit.

“Let’s teach Josh (the boyfriend) how to eat pussy.” She was grinning at me, her finger moving back and forth.

Fascinated, I watched her play. She rubbed herself differently than I did when I played alone. I made fast little circles, but she used the fleshy hood in an up and down motion over the bud of her clit.

“Is it tit for tat time?” I asked, swallowing, meeting her eyes.

Kristen leaned back in her chair a little more, spreading her legs wider to give her freer access to herself.

“Oh yes,” she thought. “It is definitely tit for tat time,” Kristen said, really getting into the story now.

Looking down at the buzzing little dynamo, she saw that her nipples were once again straining against her T-shirt.

She loved how her new breasts were firm but still hung naturally on her. Her doctor was a genius. Briefly taking her hand off the mouse, she ran the back of her fingers up along her side to where the large armholes of her T-shirt allowed access to the sides of her breasts. She loved it when Jason touched her like that. Most men only focused on the nipples, but for Kristen, the sides of her breasts were the most sensitive parts — not that she didn’t love it when he pressed the flat palm of his hand into her mounds and slowly rotated them around. “Oh, that felt good too,” she thought.

She continued her teasing touch by using her nail to circle around her right nipple, being careful not to actually touch the areola or nipple itself. She liked to build up anticipation. Round and round she went, still reading the story as she absent-mindedly drew closer and closer to her prominent nipple. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore, and grasped her breast and gently squeezed. The pressure sent a electric shock through her body that seemed to end right at her cunt. She felt a new trickle of fluid slip from her and slide down the crack of her ass.

Taking a second to scroll up to the next part of the story, she then slipped her hand under her T-shirt and cupped her left breast, feeling its weight by lifting it slightly. She didn’t bother teasing this breast. It already knew what was coming.

Instead, her fingers went straight for pay dirt, capturing that hard nipple between her thumb and index finger and pinching and rolling it — not too hard, but not too soft either. As Goldilocks would say, “Just right!”

Kristen was beginning to lose interest in the story on the screen and was becoming more interested in the story the little dildo was writing on her pussy. Withdrawing her hand from her left breast, she reached down and pulled the edge of her panties aside to grant the little vibrator unencumbered access to her drooling vagina.

For some reason, Kristen always felt a little nasty when she pulled her panties aside like that. It was even sexier than being completely naked. Maybe it had something to do with her teenage years when she would let boys touch her “down there,” but wouldn’t let them take her clothes off.

She was on a mission now. She turned the vibrator to high as she continued to run the head of fake cock up and down her slit, pausing each time when it reached her clit. She now had both legs up on the desk, one on each side of the large monitor and was almost reclining in the chair.

For a second, she wondered how she must look to someone watching her, and a moment of panic passed through her mind as she glanced up at the video camera, wondering if she had remembered to close the privacy shade.

She had.

Although, the camera wasn’t supposed to transmit anything unless you were involved in a video chat, she always worried that some enterprising hacker out there might be able to tap into the camera and peek in on whatever she happened to be doing at the time.

Well, if they can, they’d certainly be getting an eyeful, she thought, toying briefly with the idea of opening the privacy shade just for fun.

Kristen had a touch of exhibitionism in her, but she was still a little too conservative to completely let go. Maybe someday as her confidence continued to grow.

Her ministrations were having the desired effect, and she became more daring with the little dildo, allowing it to slip up inside her before popping it back out and circling it around her clit. Round and round, up and down the little device traveled, even heading as far south as her tender little anus, where the buzzing added a whole new dimension to her excitement. She may not have wanted Jason’s big cock up her tight back door, but it didn’t mean she didn’t like a little stimulation down under.

She imagined that Christy from the story was doing to her what she had been doing to Dawn. She wondered if she’d ever have the nerve to make love to a woman. She and Jason had fantasized about the possibility many times, but Kristen had long ago learned that fantasy and reality were two different things. Besides, Kristen wasn’t sure she could go down on another woman.

She was getting close now, but she needed both hands to finish the job. She slipped her fingers into the waistband of her panties and lifted her ass off the chair so she could slide them down. She didn’t bother taking them all the way off, but rather left them midway down her thighs, stretched wide by her parted legs, which were still up on the desk.

Again, she brought her little friend home and focused it on her clit as the fingers of her other hand reached under her ass to toy with her openings. She loved her hand grazing her ass as she slipped her fingers in and out of her hole and the vibrator worked its magic on her clit. She felt the familiar feeling building and knew that it wouldn’t be long. She felt like such a slut lying there with her legs spread wide, frigging herself with the tiny vibrator while she fucked herself with her fingers, her hips thrusting up and down to meet the vibrator and her fingers.

When the orgasm hit her, she lifted her hips off the chair, bucking and moaning as waves of pleasure rolled over her. She buried her fingers inside her sopping cunt and felt the contractions squeeze them. As the crescendo receded, her fingers slipped from her body and her ass came back to rest on the chair. She was breathing heavily and noticed that there was now a wet spot on the chair’s upholstery. Well, the dog would have fun sniffing that one.

She turned off the little buzzing vibrator and covered her mound with her right hand, relishing the feeling of warmth that it gave.

“Ooooh! That was a good one,” she thought as an aftershock rippled through body.

Kristen was about to get cleaned up to return to bed, when she heard the familiar ring of the iChat software announcing an invitation to chat.

“Great,” she thought. “He’s a little fucking late now!”

But when she closed the Web browser and saw the invitation, she realized it was from her best friend, Rachel.

Kristen and Rachel had been friends for several years now — ever since Rachel had become her personal trainer.

Maybe it was the fact that she had always found Rachel attractive, or maybe it was the story she had just read, or maybe the fact that she was sitting there recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm, but Kristen felt a new little tingle in her groin as she went to the keyboard to accept Rachel’s invitation to chat.

To be continued …

The Trial:

“Mr. Smith….Mr. Smith. Did you hear the question that Mr. Daniels asked you?” the judge thundered.

I awoke as from a dream. I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing. I turned to my right to see an older man in a black robe staring down at me. It all came back to me in a rush of memories. Images flashed before my eyes that sent feelings of lust, betrayal, passion and embarrassment through me.

I looked the judge in the eyes and replied, “I’m sorry your honor. Would you please repeat the question?”

Ron Daniels was my wife Laura’s divorce attorney. He was in his mid forties. Slightly overweight, his unkempt hair made him look unfocused. He seemed like someone right on the edge of loosing it.

Laura was suing me for a fault divorce. Years ago I had inherited a significant sum of money from my father and now Laura was trying to embarrass me in court so I would settle. Although my lawyer advised me to settle and convinced me it would be cheaper, I refused. I believed this would be the last time I could win her back. And the only way I could do that was to tell the truth. The whole truth.

Ron asked, “Please tell me what happened on July 24th, 2008.”

I answered, “It was the day that my best friend Jeff Simmons and my wife ran into each other at the grocery store. I had left to go get some hamburger meat and when I returned I found Laura and Jeff talking. Or, should I really say flirting. They both had huge smiles on their faces and they were laughing. Laura had a tight low-cut white shirt on and short jean shorts. Jeff was not very discreet in looking at her breasts. At first I was very angry. Jeff was my best friend and here is was ogling my wife. I paid good money for those!”

There were a few laughs in the back of the courtroom. I bought my wife breast implants 3 years ago for her birthday. About 110, Laura has always been in great shape running 4 marathons a year. Her only security was her breasts so she had them enlarged from a A cup to a D cup. Ever since she got them she was constantly showing them off.

I continued, “Now I didn’t blame him for looking her over. He is a guy like the rest of us.”

Ron asked, “And how did that make you feel?”

“At first I wanted to go over to him and punch him, but then I had a very vivid daydream, a fantasy.”

A small smile appeared on Ron’s face as he said, “Normally in good taste I would stop here but I am sure you would agree that the fantasy you are referring to had a significant impact on your life. You probably wouldn’t be here right now if you had not seen this vision.”

I looked at my wife and hesitated. I answered, “That is correct.”

Ron turned to the judge and said, “Your honor, I would like to ask Mr. Smith to describe this fantasy because it has a profound impact on the rest of this case. I am familiar with the details and must admit that they are graphic. I understand that members of the court and the jury may be offended, however, I insist that in order to get to the truth behind these divorce proceedings we must hear this.”

The judge said, “You may proceed.”

Ron turned to me and asked, “Mr. Smith, will you explain your fantasy.”

I cleared my throat and replied, “It is dawn. My wife is on her hands and knees in our bed. She looks behind, smiles and says, “Fuck me.” At first I think she is talking to me but then I see Jeff walk into the picture. He climbs on our bed and places his hands on her hips. Laura’s head tilts back as he enters her. They begin to have sex and then things get hazy. The last image I see is Laura on top of Jeff, kissing kissing him passionately.”

“Did you tell your wife about this fantasy?”

I answered, “Yes. Later that night when we were in bed I told her everything. She seemed shocked at first. Then she began telling me that she would never cheat on me. I stopped her and explained that the fantasy turned me on. After pausing for a few seconds she told me she would never have sex with another man.”

The judge called for a recess and I left the courthouse to find some lunch. It was good to get some fresh air. I began to think about those first few weeks. Laura was cold to me as she tried to process what I told her. Her loving husband wanted her to fuck another man. The fantasy kept building for me though and it would get longer and more detailed. I was masterbating 3 times a day.

I thought that if I could enlist Laura’s friend Sara she might be able to convince her to sleep with Jeff. I called her and told her I needed to talk to her about Laura. We met for lunch the following week.

When I saw her standing in the restaurant lobby I could see she was worried. We got a booth in the far corner of the building.

She looked at me directly and asked, “Is there something wrong with Laura?”

I answered, “No. I need your help convincing her to do something.”

“What is that?”

I paused to gather my nerve and whispered, “I want you to convince Laura to sleep with Jeff. I had this fantasy of them together and its all I can think about. It turns me on so much it is driving me crazy.”

Sara’s face froze and then melted into a fury. She looked me dead in the eye and said, “Are you fucking serious! What kind of sick fuck would want his wife to fuck another man. I understand a lot of men fantasize about their wife with another woman. But another man! Laura is bueatiful and you are way out of her league. I don’t know why she ever got involved with you.”

I replied, “I can’t help it. I just think it would be so hot watching two bueatiful people fuck each other. Don’t you think it is only natural for a hunk like Jeff and a stunning woman like Laura to get together?”

Sara got up and stormed out of the restaurant. Two weeks later she called me to say she would help. I didn’t ask why she changed her mind. I was so delirious with lust back then I didn’t care to ask.

The lawsuit continued after lunch. Ron announced, “Your honor, I would like to call Sara Shields to the stand.”

After Sara sat down Ron asked, “Ms. Shields, will you explain to the court what your relationship is with Ms. Smith?”

Sara answered, “Laura and I have been friends since college. She is my best friend.”

“Is it true that you helped convince Ms. Smith to start an affair with Mr. Simmons at the urging of Mr. Smith?”

“Yes,” Sara replied.

Ron asked, “If Ms. Smith was such a good friend why would you try and convince her to do something that may jeopardize her marriage?”

Sara answered, “I have always hated Mike. I don’t know why she fell in love with him He is overweight, ugly and stupid. We used to spend a lot of time together but when Mike came along it all changed. So when one day he came to me and asked that I help convince her to sleep with Jeff I was flabbergasted. He was so lucky to have Laura. He was willing to risk everything so he could get his rocks off watching her submit to another man. I knew back then that things would end this way. I was conflicted when he told me his fantasy because I knew Laura would get hurt. But I thought in the long term she would be happier with a better man.”

I looked over at Laura and she looked pissed. Even though she was suing me I could tell that she was furious with Sara.

She continued, “When I called Mike to tell him I would help I felt a little guilty. The idiot didn’t know how much I hated him. So I told him I thought it was a bad idea. I also warned him that one of his ex girlfriends told me he was very large down there.”

Ron smiled and asked, “What do you mean large down there?”

Sara smiled and answered, “He had a very large penis.”

“And did any of your warnings influence Mr. Smith?”

Sara laughed and looked right at me, “No. Mike was thrilled when he heard Jeff was hung. He told me he couldn’t wait to see his bueatiful wife bouncing up and down on that big penis. I laughed a little and told him to not worry. With both of us pushing this Laura will be riding him in no time.”

Ron said, “Please tell me about your first conversation with Ms. Smith.”

Sara answered, “I took Laura out for some drinks hoping she would bring up Mike’s fantasy. I could tell she was on edge and wanted to talk about her husbands proposal. I asked her if something was wrong and she told me everything. She was upset that her husband would want to share her with another man. She fretted that he might be doing this so he could start an affair and she started to cry. I told her that she shouldn’t be so upset and that I suspected Mike had a cuckold fantasy. I explained that cuckold’s don’t have sex outside their marriage, only their wives do. It is really a blessing for a woman because she can explore her sexuality while maintaining the love and devotion of her husband.”

Ron asked, “And how did Ms. Smith respond?”

Sara continued, “She asked me what was in it for the cuckold. I explained that cucks are sexually stimulated by watching their wives have sex with other men. They also experience an emotional roller coaster as their heart and penis fight each other while dealing with their wife’s promiscuity. I don’t know where it comes from but once it’s there it doesn’t go away. I told her she should do it. Mike will never stop pestering her about it.”

Ron said, “When did you learn that Laura was going to start an affair with Mr. Simmons?”

“Laura called me on September 25th and told me she was going to do it. She said Mike brought it up every day and she was sick of it. Mike called Jeff and arranged a date. It did not surprise me Jeff was ok with all of this, Laura is a knock out.”

The court adjourned for the weekend. The testimonies during the day brought me back to the very beginning. I was so happy back then.

First kiss:

I remember their first date. Laura had agreed to go out to dinner with Jeff. Around 1 on the morning I heard the car door shut. Sprinting upstairs, I peered out the window to see Laura and Jeff walking hand in hand towards the front door. They both had big smiles on their faces and Laura looked amazing in her tight little cocktail dress.

I opened the window as quietly as I could and tried to get as close to the screen as possible.

I heard Laura say, “Thank you for the dinner and movie tonight. I had a great time.”

The look on her face was priceless. I could tell she felt something for him.

Jeff smiled and replied, “I had a great time too.”

There was an awkward moment between the two. Neither of them knew what to say next. I quietly said to myself, “Kiss him!”

I don’t know if I channeled my wife’s mind at that moment but sure enough she leaned into him and gave him a nice juicy kiss. My dick turned to steel as my guts fell deep into my belly. The twin overpowering feelings of lust and terror flowed throughout me. If you have never seen your wife kiss another man you wouldn’t understand.

The kiss had only lasted a moment but it was burned into my mind. I made a b line to the nearest bathroom and masturbated, cumming in less than 30 seconds. Just then I heard Laura open up the front door.

I asked her, “How was your date?”

She smiled like a teenager who had met her first love. “I had a great time, honey. Jeff is such a gentleman.”

I little look of concern appeared on her face. She hesitated for a second.

Laura said, “I have something to confess to you.”

I interrupted, “Is it the kiss? I thought it was beautiful.”

Laura smiled a little, “No, I haven’t been completely honest with you. Jeff and I dated for a year back in college. I never told you because I didn’t want things to get weird between you and him. When you first suggested that I start dating Jeff I didn’t tell you because I thought you might cancel the whole thing. Truth is, I still had some feelings for him and I was curious to see how he had changed since then.”

I was shocked. Again my stomach felt like it was dropping out of my body. How could Laura keep this from me?

Laura could see my uneasiness and said, “If we are going to continue with this than we both have to be comfortable with it. Obviously you should think this over but what I will say is that if your fantasy is to get me in bed with another man, then Jeff is your best bet.”

Laura leaned up to kiss me and walked to the stairs. As if to destroy any remaining reservations I might have she stopped halfway up the stairs and said, “He is the only other man I would consider letting cum in me.”

As she walked up the stairs her luscious ass swayed side to side. I could see a little smile creep up on her face. She new exactly how to play me.

I stood there for minutes in a daze. I couldn’t get the image of Jeff emptying himself into my wife out of my mind. I jerked off again before I went upstairs to bed.

The Next Day:

The next day after work I sat Laura down and said, “I thought about this all day and I want you to continue seeing Jeff. He is my best friend and I wouldn’t want to share you with anyone else.”

Laura was ecstatic and gave me a big kiss. She walked right over to the phone and called Jeff. She told him that I was ok with everything. She then went upstairs and attempted to have a private conversation with Sara but I couldn’t help but to eavesdrop.

Laura whispered in an excited frenzy, “He is ok with Jeff and I being together! Jeff is soooooo handsome.”

Sara said a few things to make Laura laugh. “Yes… I know he is very large! He was the best fuck of my life!”

Laura comments hurt, but I know that it must be true.

The Pill:

Laura and I went out to the store to get our weekly groceries. She steered towards the pharmacy and said, “I need to get a birth control prescription filled. I know you want me to fuck Jeff but you probably don’t want to raise his baby.”

I asked, “It looks like an hour wait. Do we have to do this now? The football game starts at three.”

Laura smiled and said, “That’s ok. Let go find the condoms.”

She pushed the cart down the aisle and grabbed a big box of Magnum condoms, nonchalantly dropping them in the cart. I watched her sexy firm ass as she continued down the aisle. All I could think about was Jeff grabbing those hips and cumming deep inside her pussy. I ran up to the cart and snatched the condoms.

I said, “I can wait.”

Laura laughed and whispered, “I thought so. Does hubby want me filled up with a big thick load of cum. You bad boy, I am sure Jeff will thank you later.”

An hour later we returned to the pharmacy. I went up to the counter and requested the prescription.

The clerk looked up at my wife and said, “Laura it is so good to see you!”

Just our luck it was Samantha, one of her old friends.

Laura blushed and said, “How are you doing? I didn’t know you worked here.”

Samantha replied, “I started yesterday. We need to catch up later this week. I am swamped today.”

As Samantha rang up the prescription she stopped and said, “Birth control. I thought Mike got fixed years ago. Why do you need these?”

Laura and I froze in terror.

After about 5 seconds Samantha smiled and said, “Oh, these must be needed for someone else.”

She leaned forward to Laura and whispered, “Just make sure you trust this friend of yours. Make sure he gets tested. You two have fun now.”

Laura pushed the cart away as Samantha leaned in towards me to say, “She is very pretty isn’t she. You guys must be in a solid relationship to let another man bed your wife. Have you done this before?”

I replied, “No not yet.”

Samantha looked as my hand and continued, “You guys are using condoms too. That is a good idea.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t believe I was still holding the box of condoms.

Samantha said, “Let me guess. You are putting those back. Haha, you want this friend to cum in her. Did you have to talk her into it?”

I blushed, “Yes. You should see him, he is quite the stud. I have heard he is hung and he cums a lot. I can’t wait!”

I paused a second. Was I bragging about the man who was going to fuck my wife.

Samantha laughed and said, “Well lucky for both of you. Let me know how things turn out.”

As I walked back to the cart Laura was bending over to pick up a can of tomatoes. She looked fantastic in her short jean shorts and low cut black tank top Laura’s high heel sandals showed off her bueatiful toned legs. Next weekend my best friend was going to fill her with a massive load of cum, and she didn’t seem fazed at all.

Evening of:

On Saturday night I was on edge. My dick was rock hard knowing in a few hours I would officially be a cuckold. But I was also stressed out. What happens if she backs out? I felt intense feeling of jealousy and self doubt.

Laura came out of the bathroom with her face on and saw I was on edge.

She said, “Do you want to watch me get dressed? I bought something very special for the occasion.”

As she slipped on a sexy black lace bra and panty set I sat there admiring my wife’s body. Damn she still had it! She pulled on the tiny black minidress with a square neckline. Laura’s breasts were practically spilling out.

I asked her, “Are you nervous?”

Laura smiled and said, “Not really. You know Jeff and I have been together before. Are you nervous?”

“I am.”

Laura laughed, “Is my little cuckold scared. Oh don’t worry I am sure Jeff will be gentle. You go online and read some nice cuckold stories. Don’t you think it is ironic that at the same time you are reading a fictional story about cuckolding across town you will be cuckolded for real. Enjoy yourself tonight. I know Jeff and I sure will.”

I spoke up, “Wait, can you give me some relief before you go?”

Laura replied, “Ok, pull your pants.”

I was already rock hard from watching her in her underwear. She grabbed a hold of my dick and started to stroke it. Damn she looked good. She smelled fantastic.

Laura quietly whispered in my ear, “Is my cuckold excited to know that your best friend is going to fuck me with his big thick cock? I can’t wait until he fills me up with a nice thick load.”

I was close to cumming when Laura said she was late and let go of my penis. As she was walking out of the bedroom I said, “You have to help me cum.”

Laura laughed and said, “No, I have to go help Jeff cum. You are on your own tonight.”

I didn’t try to stop her. She was right.

Coming home:

I couldn’t sleep at all that night but I wasn’t tired. I was so excited to hear what happened it compensated for any sluggishness I felt. I kept a keen eye on the window waiting for Laura to return. It was excruciating. Around 10 am Jeff’s car pulled into the driveway. They both got out of the car and she gave him a big hug and kiss. In daylight!

I looked across the street and sure enough Susan, the neighborhood gossip, was peering through her window watching all of it. With her hair disheveled there was little doubt that pretty little wife had been fucked. I wish she had been a little more discreet.

When she walked into the house she had a beautiful triumphant smile on her face.

Laura said, “It was amazing.”

Even though I wanted this to happen some part of me thought she might back out of it. Perhaps out of concern for her marriage. But now I know that she had done it.

Laura saw this response and quickly added, “Well come to bed. I am sure you want to hear all the details.”

I quickly followed Laura up to our bedroom.

After examining her body I could see the tell tail sign of passionate sex. They was light bruising on her arms and a hickey on her neck. Her lipstick was smudged.

Laura quietly whispered, “Go ahead. I know what you are looking for.”

Laura pulled off her dress and I slipped the panties off her hips. Dropping down to my knees, I was now just inches from a swollen pussy dripping with cum.

“Lucky for you he is a heavy cummer. When we used to date he would shoot his load all over my ass, breasts and face. I loved it! His cum is 20 minutes fresh.”

I’ve heard stories about news photographers who get shot because when they put the camera viewfinder to their eye, they forget that they’re actually in a dangerous situation and think they’re just watching something happening to someone else. It’s like extreme voyeurism. I know it sounds strange, but I believe it. I believe it because it happened to me.

I’m not a photographer. I’m an artist. Well, I want to be an artist. I take my sketchbook everywhere I go and when I get “in the moment,” I’m really transported away from where I’m really at to a place somewhere in my head.

So I’m sitting in the park — you know, the one downtown where all the fountains are — and I’m sketching the statue there in the center of the square, when I notice this — I don’t know, girl, woman, female, whatever. You couldn’t NOT notice her. She was exceptionally well-built, if you gather what I mean. Very chesty. And her body was voluptuous in a very old school Italian Masters kind of way. She wasn’t fat, she just had curves. Like a woman should look instead of these starving, rail-thin women who try to pass themselves off as sexy.

Her hair was a bright red, almost brassy color. Very shiny and shot through with streaks of black. She had real dark eyes, almost black, and she was wearing a variety of clothes that looked like they had come from an expensive vintage clothing store or a cheap thrift shop. You know the look I’m talking about.

Anyway, she sat down on the ground and leaned up against the statue I was sketching. She opened a book and started reading and I let my eyes kind of linger on her. Her breasts in particular.

The button-down shirt she was wearing wasn’t buttoned up that much. I could see her black lacy bra very clearly. And on each breast top, she had tattoos. It wasn’t a picture of anything, it was just a design mirror-imaged on each breast. I got to imagining how the tats must look on the parts of the breasts I couldn’t see. So I started sketching her. Nude.

I imagined her full breasts with dark, silver-dollar aureole and a tattooed design reaching around as if to caress them. I imagined her mound shaved except for a thin landing strip of tightly trimmed pubic hair, another tattoo just below her pierced belly button. I imagined her so well, I got a hard-on under my sketch pad.

I got so involved in my drawing, I don’t really know when she noticed me looking at her. I did notice when she closed the book, stood and started walking toward me. That was when I panicked.

You see, it’s not unusual for people to want to see my sketches of them. Usually I comply, but this time I was rapidly trying to come up with some kind of excuse so I wouldn’t have to show her. Unfortunately, my mind doesn’t work that fast.

She sat next to me on the bench. Her perfume was understated but magical. My throat went dry. Her short denim skirt rode up on her thigh and I could see the garter clips holding her stocking tops. This woman knew how to dress.

“Can I see?” she asked. I had flipped the cover closed.

“Sure,” I said. I opened the sketch book to a picture of the statue I had been working on before she had arrived.

“Nice,” she said. “Very good. Now show me the one you drew of me.”

“I…the statue… not…” My words weren’t coming out too good.

She leaned over and put her lips next to my ear as one hand slid beneath the sketch book and cradled my bulge. “Pretty please?” she purred.

I flipped the pages. There she was, in all her imagined glory.

“Wow,” she said. “Not bad. I thought you might be undressing me with your eyes. Guess I was right.”

I’m sure my face was seven shades of red. “I’m sorry,” I told her. I don’t normally do that. It’s just that you were…And I noticed the…And I started…imagining.”

“Actually, you’ve got a very good imagination,” she said. “But the tats don’t come down quite that low around my nipples. Low pain threshold,” she laughed. “See?”

She pulled her left breast from the black bra and ran her finger over the tattoo that ended right about where the bra had covered. I’d gotten the aureole right. It was large and the nipple resting in its center looked like a dark red gumdrop.

She giggled and tucked her breast back in the cup. “Guess I shouldn’t do that out here. Just wanted you to see. I love the way you draw. Feel free to draw me anytime.”

She gave my bulge another squeeze. “Thank you for this, by the way. That’s some compliment.”

“M-m-my pleasure,” I managed to stammer.

She giggled again. She had a very musical laugh that came from somewhere in the back of her throat. We were sitting close on the bench and the sun was beginning to set, but I didn’t want her to leave.

She surprised me again. Leaning closer, she pressed her lips to mine. She gently massaged my cock and I lowered the sketch book to try to cover what she was doing. Her tongue pressed between my lips and I let mine dance against it. She tasted like strawberries. I didn’t know if it was her lip gloss or just her natural flavor.

She broke the kiss, looked into my eyes and giggled. She looked around as if checking the proximity of people in our immediate area. Then I felt her hand unzipping my jeans. She watched my face intently as she pulled my hard cock out into the evening air and began pumping me with long, leisurely strokes. “God, you are so fucking turned on,” she said. She seemed to like watching my face as she gave me a handjob right there in the park.

“Mmmmm, do you like that?” She was smiling and I was sure anyone who got within a few feet of us would know what she was doing. I also didn’t care at that point. Throw my ass in jail. It would be worth it.

She expertly manipulated my cock until she got my precum flowing and then massaged it back into my prick like the natural lubricant that it is.

She started looking at the sketchbook and pointing with her free hand like we were discussing the intricacies of my artistic talent. She lifted the sketch book away from my lap, peeked under it and made a sound like, “Whoo.” Her cheeks flushed. “That’s as impressive as your talent,” she said.

She kissed me again and I put my hand on her cheek and slid it down her neck. I wanted so badly to feel those full, natural melons in my hand, to run my tongue over the sexy tattoo on her breast tops. But there was no way to do it out here.

She was breathing heavy when our lips parted. “Listen,” she confessed, “I thought you were cute when I saw you here drawing and getting aroused looking at me. I thought I’d come over, give you a quickie handjob, and that would be the end of it.”

She sneaked another peek under the sketch book. “Whoo. I’m so fucking wet right now. I would love to feel that inside me.”

“My Jeep’s right over there,” I told her. She followed my pointing finger with her head to look at my Grand Cherokee.

“That’ll do nicely,” she said.

I started to tuck myself back in my jeans but she said, “No, leave it out. Cover it with the sketch pad.”

I admit, I felt a little silly walking to my car with my dong hanging out. But I also felt incredibly aroused. The breeze was blowing over my hard, sticky flesh and it made me feel so fucking horny that I couldn’t wait to bury it in the pussy of this unconventional little tattooed vixen.

I opened the door for her and she climbed into the passenger seat. Then, throwing caution to the wind, I chucked my sketch book into the back seat and walked around to my side of the car with my cock sticking proudly out and up.

As I slid into the driver’s seat, my tattooed beauty giggled again. “Find us a place a little more out of the way,” she suggested. As I pulled out onto the street, she leaned over and took my hard pole into her mouth.

It was difficult to keep my eyes on the road with that beautiful brassy-black head of hair bouncing on my cock. As she went up and down, her tongue went around and around and the sensation was better than anything I’ve ever felt before. There was only so much of my cock that she could get to with it sticking out of my jeans like that, but she took all of it deep into her throat and held it there as she swallowed, letting the back of her throat massage the head.

She slid the entire length out of her mouth and blew on the head. “God, that’s a beautiful cock. I wish I could draw like you. I’d sketch that swollen dick,” she ran her fingernails over my skin, “these gorgeous veins, that big purple head.” She sucked me back into her warm mouth and moaned deeply. I never felt so appreciated in my life.

I drove to an area under the highway that I had sketched before that I knew was lightly traveled. Shutting off the ignition, I climbed into the back and reclined both of the seats.

“I like the way you think,” she said, joining me in the back.

I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my jeans and underwear. My tattooed beauty had removed her blouse and was reaching to unsnap her bra when I stopped her. Pushing her back on the seat, I grabbed the bottom of her denim skirt and pulled it up over her hips.

She wasn’t wearing panties. A garter belt held her stockings in place and there was no belly button ring or landing strip. She was shaved smooth with only a small heart tattooed on one hip.

I pulled her legs open roughly and buried my face in her snatch. She wasn’t kidding. She was drenched. I let my tongue cup her essence from deep in her cunt before running it in slow circles over her swollen clit. She moaned and pressed the back of my head tighter to her snatch, moving her hips against my mouth. I curled two fingers inside her and finger-fucked her while I tongued her clit.

“Oh God! Easy Cowboy. You’ll make me cum too fast.”

I kissed the heart tattoo. “How many times can you cum?” I asked.

“I don’t think the limit has ever been reached,” she giggled.

“Fair enough.” I went down on her aggressively, using my fingers, lips and tongue to work her juices into a lather. I was intent to make her scream.

And she did.

That was when I found out she was a squirter. It shocked me at first but then I got so into it I couldn’t get enough. She drenched my face, her legs and a lot of the car seat.

With her legs still twitching in the air, I slid up and thrust my cock into her all the way. She squealed and wrapped her legs around me tightly, giving just as good as she was getting.

“Oh goddam, fuck me with that beautiful hard cock.” I pushed myself up to look down at her and realized she still had her bra on. I was too turned on to take it off properly. I pulled the cups down and freed her tits which began moving on her ribcage with every thrust from my hips. Her nipples were hard and the aureole were puckered. I covered one with my mouth, sucking that gorgeous natural tit as far into my mouth as I could. She held my head tight against her and squeezed my cock with her pussy muscles.

Then she pushed my head away, holding it with both hands and looking intently at me with those beautiful black eyes. “Fuck. ME!” she said, in rhythm to our thrusting. “Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me.”

The liquid sound from our loins and its aroma filled the inside of the car. Her stockinged legs were wrapped around me, her skirt bunched up over her hips. I looked at her hair, her face, her titty tats. “I could not have drawn you any more beautiful,” I told her.

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth turned down and with a crying gasp, I was watching her cum face as I felt the warm spray from her pussy wash over my pubic hair.

“Oh God, give me your cum. I want to feel it,” she said, when she caught her breath.

As much as I wanted to fill her cunt with my cum, there was something I wanted more. I fucked her hard and deep until I was about to explode. When I reached the point of no return, I pulled out and shot my white hot cum all over her tattooed breasts. I groaned as the pearly liquid splattered against the body art and pooled, dripping into her ample cleavage.

She raised up on one elbow and took my spent cock into her mouth, sucking the last remaining drop out and swallowing it.

“Who ARE you?” I asked as she slid her skirt back down over her hips and refastened her bra over those beautiful tits.

“I’m your muse,” she said. She opened the car door and slipped back into her blouse. “Don’t worry. We’ll see each other again.”

And she walked off into the darkness.

Dear Reader,

My apologies in advance to all of you who are fluent in Spanish; I am not. Although I have tried to convey what happened and what was said as faithfully as possible, it’s possible I’ve put something in that technically doesn’t make sense. Hopefully the intent comes through.

I hope you enjoy the story, and when you get to the end, please take time to click one of the stars that registers how well you liked it. On average, only one in 200 bothers to vote — please take time and be that one.


It’s always the eyes.

Introductions don’t tell you anything. A smile, a shake of the hand, cordial voices — that’s just being polite. But walk into a cocktail party, step into an elevator, pass a woman on the street — when your eyes meet — there is no denying it. A young, beautiful woman is sure of herself. She knows what you have and what she has are a matching set. And you, as a red-blooded male, would jump at the chance of putting those matched sets together.

If she’s young and innocent and you’re about her age, and if she doesn’t have some rock dragging her left hand to the ground, chances are good the eyes are saying, “Why don’t you come on over and say hello?” If she’s not so young, the same age doesn’t necessarily mean so much; why else are we hearing so much about cougars these days?

Her eyes may tell you that she is taken, but she’ll be civil; or, that she’s interested, or not; or that you just aren’t her type, even though she’s never met you. It all comes down to eye contact. No matter how friendly the handshake, no matter how pleasant the “hello,” it’s all about the eye contact.

Does everyone understand this simple concept? Let’s have a count here, all those that disagree? Ah yes… always at least one, two… Ok, so much for the “no’s,” and now, those that agree?

It’s confirmed, the “Eyes” have it.


It was the last day of the project, at least for me. I’d answered the call and walked away from my pending summer vacation to help solve the problems, and luckily they’d been minor. Puebla, Mexico, a scant 80 miles from Mexico City, is a world away from the United States. I had been absorbed into a multi-national team; I had Swiss, Swedish, Finnish and German coworkers, as well as some local help.

The differences between my co-workers and I were minor — mostly about 20 years on the average. I’d been married, they hadn’t. I went back to the hotel at night, solved problems and sent e-mails while they went to the local bars to chase skirts; at least one had hooked up with a local girlfriend. For the most part, I wasn’t interested in chasing skirts or getting drunk, although I’ve done some of that in the past. I remembered well the things the “old man” used to say to us, back when I was one of the kids. Now, I was the “old man,” making the project easier, passing on the experiences learned at the School of Hard Knocks to the “new kids”.

But, it was Friday, and I was leaving on a mid-morning flight Saturday, to return to my re-scheduled, well deserved, time off. With the project accomplished, there was no reason not to go out and play — so I succumbed to their teasing and agreed to go along.

The boys had found the local “happening” club long before; they’d been going nearly every night. It was just a fifteen minute taxi ride from the hotel; that is if you can call it a ride. “Get in, sit down, hang on and pray” was more like it. There was a seat belt, singular, as in ½ of a matched pair – for the three of us in the back and one in the front. The car itself had seen some hard usage and more than one minor fender bender but, miraculously, we arrived unscathed. I knew we were arriving when we got close; the beat of the music could be heard from a block away.

The bouncer greeted the boys with a knowing nod of recognition but checked their ID’s anyway. For some reason that I can’t fathom, he didn’t check my ID. Go figure.

It didn’t take long to acclimate my eyes once inside. It wasn’t that much darker than the dusk outside. The dance floor was already teeming with life, but my boys told me “just wait, it gets really crazy later.”

I bought the first round of drinks; some watery semblance of a beer called “Sol” seemed to be the local favorite. I wasn’t impressed, but the point seemed to be more to have something in your hands so I took one. We crowded around a stand-up table, the crowd milling around us, the fetchers wandering back from the bar with hands full of beer bottles, their skimpy dress designed to entice some not-so-skimpy tips. Pretty, Spanish speaking girls with sultry eyes flirted with the guys at our table; all the guys, that is, except for me.

It has been several years since I realized those 18 year old hotties – that were out to prove they were now adults and could raise an erection on a dead man – were no longer interested in me. On the other hand, I wasn’t blind, either. If they wanted to show that they were adult, had the body to prove it, and were readily doing so, why shouldn’t I look?

I can’t remember how many years it has been since I expected that a smile at a sweet young thing and buying her a beer would get me anywhere, but it was interesting to see my younger compatriots doing just exactly that. A seemingly endless stream of young Mexican señoritas stopped by the table to say “Hola, que tal?” to “my boys”. Sometimes I was introduced, but most of the time they didn’t know their names either.

The music was loud enough that it was hard to have a conversation at all, but with English being the only common language, and the girls not extremely proficient in it, most of the time communication was more the nonverbal type. It had to do with smiling, offering a beer, fingers touching fingers, a hand on an arm, or asking a girl to dance — where she understood the gesture to the dance floor more than the words themselves. This gave him an opportunity to place a hand in the small of her back, or more likely between her shoulders. And then once on the dance floor, the communication turned more into bumping and grinding, sultry looks, hands on waists drifting down to sexy bottoms. From there the hands were intercepted and moved back to waists or perhaps elsewhere, or perhaps not. In some cases the bodies closed the gap between them; touching, hands traveling elsewhere, acknowledging the physiological response of the closeness and the possibility that perhaps something more would happen later.

I was perfectly happy being entertained by partaking in one of my favorite pastimes: people watching. The “dressed to seduce” sweet young señoritas that kept coming and going through my field of vision were pleasant to look at, but with no interest in me on their part, it was like thumbing through a girly calendar; pretty to look at but there’s another one on the next page, so they really didn’t hold my attention for long. I was about through the first bottle of watery cerveza, thinking of getting something perhaps a bit more adult, when our eyes met. Like I said, it’s always the eyes.

My vision had moved on from the local eye candy to examining the other people in the room. The ground floor was crowded with beer drinkers to the left and a crowded dance floor to the right. On the far side of the room, stairs rose to a balcony with a bar and seats overlooking the dance floor that ran the length of the balcony. Behind the upstairs bar tables lined the wall.

It was nearly as crowded above as it was below, the main difference being there just wasn’t enough room for dancing above. But then again, the dancing below was more just moving with the beat, a chance to rub sexy bodies together; there wasn’t room for real dancing.

My eyes swept the balcony, examining the people. I wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, just looking. I evaluated what I was seeing as my eyes slowly traveled the room from table to table; a group of half a dozen girlfriends, pretty obviously waiting for boyfriends as they weren’t on the hunt; next a couple of boys, hitting on a couple of girls — a totally different dynamic than if they were already couples. Even from where I was watching the pick-up attempts, I could tell the guys were bragging, strutting, just trying to get the acceptance of the girls. The girls were giggling, playing shy. I smiled to myself, remembering the days when that was me. I was never good at the pick-up scene. The memories of getting shot down greatly outnumber the successful forays. My eyes moved a bit further, and there she was, looking at me.

How is it that in a room of maybe three to four hundred people, that I knew she was looking at me? Why is it that when my eyes met hers from 50 meters away, there was no doubt? I don’t know how, but I did. Just as I knew that the first table I had seen was full of girls waiting for boyfriends, and the next table was a group of guys hitting on single girls, I knew that this woman was watching me.

She didn’t move, she didn’t acknowledge me; she just kept looking at me looking at her. My eyes kept hers for just a moment as I moved on, but when I finished my sweep, coming back across the crowded balcony, her head nodded, barely perceptibly, as my eyes found hers again. I argued to myself that she wasn’t really nodding to me, but I knew better.

I couldn’t tell how old she was, only that, just like me, she was obviously more mature than the youngsters around us. Maybe 30, 32? 40 or 42? I couldn’t tell from this distance. She appeared to be quite pleasant to look at, but seated behind the balcony bar, most of her body was hidden and it was difficult to tell. Although not one of the twenty something eye-candies, she’d definitely caught my eye.

She had a hand on a bottle of beer, which even from the distance I recognized had the same label as the bottle of piss-water I had in my hand, and she was in no hurry to drink it down. I glanced down again at my beer. I still had half a bottle, but I wasn’t really interested in lowering it any further.

My coworkers were all ready to start their second round, so I headed for the bar again myself. Elbowing my way over, I ordered another round for my guys, as well as the sweet young thing, who for the last 15 minutes had been quite engrossed in my Danish compatriot, and a glass of Shiraz for me. The beers came immediately. I picked them up and took them to the table before returning for the wine. As I turned back, I glanced up again. The lady on the balcony still had a barely touched the bottle of beer in front of her. It dawned on me that she probably wasn’t nursing the beer; she just wasn’t appreciating it any more than I was. I wondered who she was with; no girlfriend sitting next to her, no visible male; she appeared to be alone, but why would she have ordered a beer that she didn’t really like? Maybe because she didn’t order it?

When the bartender slid the glass of wine toward me, I stretched my vocabulary and changed the order. “Uno mas. Dos vino, por favor.” I held up two fingers to emphasize what I wanted, pointing at the full glass just to make sure he understood. Moments later I had a second glass in hand and the tab paid. I didn’t return to the table. I was sure the guys could care less as to where I was or what I was doing, other than that they appreciated the beers and being gone meant one more spot for a pretty señorita to take.

The crowd slowly parted as I moved toward the stairway. I glanced up to see if she was still watching me; she wasn’t. Her gaze was moving around the far side of the room, as if looking for someone. Was it presumptuous to think it was me? Although her eyes hadn’t been off me any time I’d looked up earlier, somehow when I moved to the bar she lost track of me. Apparently not thinking to look on the balcony as I approached, she never saw a thing until I slid into the narrow space beside her and placed the glass of wine in front of her, pressing the stem against her fingers. Surprised, she looked over at me, recognition dawning in her eyes. “Para los niño’s,” I said, taking her beer bottle from her hand and setting it aside. Whereas before I’d stretched my vocabulary, now I almost exhausted it. Besides “Donde esta el bano?” and “Uno mas cerveza, por favor,” I was about out of conversational Spanish. Switching to English I finished my pick up line; “Beautiful women should drink good wine.” I had no idea whether she understood the words, but hoped she understood the intent.

“Gracias,” she said with a smile, followed by a question that I had absolutely no clue what it was, except that it was a question.

“I’m sorry, no hablo espanol. Hablo Inglés?” I knew enough to put the accent on the correct syllable, but that was about it.



She shook her head, a disappointed look on her face. Just then the couple on the opposite side of her got up to leave. She said something to them, and when they answered she immediately indicated that I should take the chair next to her.

Just being close had allowed me to better assess the woman who had accepted my glass of wine. Not as young as I’d thought from below, I’d refined the assessment to late thirties, maybe low 40′s. Except for the bar management, I’d guess we were the oldest two in the whole place. From up close, no longer blocked from view by the bar, it was also hard not to recognize that she was heavily endowed. Not that she was fat; she actually had a pretty nice body from what I could see — but with very large breasts.

A satiny blue blouse was form fitted over her rounded breasts, a “u” shaped neck exposing the tops to view. A lacy pattern from her bra was outlined through the material where it was pulled tight across her bust, black bra straps weren’t even partly covered by the blue spaghetti straps of her blouse. A see through black lace cover-up was worn over top of everything, making the view of her cleavage all the more enticing. I wondered if she understood how her clothing was advertising as much as I did. Surely she did, everything about her dress was designed to entice the eye to her bosom.

Stylish white jeans rounded out the ensemble, and her bottom, rounded out on the chair where she was sitting, filled them quite nicely. She definitely wasn’t skinny, and she definitely wasn’t a kid, either. My eyes hadn’t deceived me from below; she was my kind of sexy.

I slid into the chair, holding out my hand to her. “Steve,” I said, then remembering my Spanish equivalent added, “Esteban.” She smiled and took my proffered hand. Her hand slid into mine easily, her fingers cool to the touch, yet the feeling of electricity was unmistakable.

“Maria,” she introduced herself in return.

Now what the hell was I going to say? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t going to be in Spanish. At least I thought it wasn’t. Actually there is nothing like being immersed in a language, being forced to use it, to find that maybe you know a little more than you think you do. She asked something, I recognized “trabajo” as “work,” and figured she must be asking if I was here for work.

“Si. Trabajo… aqui por” I had to stop and count silently in Spanish to get to nine, “nueve dios.”

She grinned. “Nueve Di – as… ahhss” she said, correcting my pronunciation. I felt the heat of embarrassment from my face. I’ve done a lot of things in life that could have been embarrassing but hadn’t bothered me; I’ve got a pretty thick skin that way. But, mispronounce a simple word in a foreign language in front of a pretty woman and I was embarrassed? Go figure.

I rolled my eyes, and laughed self-consciously. “Oh, of course. Dios,” I repeated, bowing my head and clasping my hands as if I was praying to God, indicating that I realized my mistake. Looking back up I held up a finger, “Uno Dios, nueve dias.” She laughed.

I realized one of the bodies passing in my peripheral vision on the balcony hadn’t moved on by. As I looked over a voice said, “My Mother doesn’t speak much English.” I looked sideways to find one of the twenty-something’s standing slightly behind and between us.

It’s funny how fast the mind works at times. My mind recognized and appraised her words, while my eyes were registering the shape and face of the young woman standing beside us, and made the assessment that this really was her daughter, but she must have gotten her boob genes from her father’s side. She had just a fraction of the probably DD boobs that her mother sported. It wasn’t that I was immediately consciously appraising or comparing, it just popped into my mind. Her hand rose up to rest on her mother’s shoulder.

Maria turned, immediately introducing me to her daughter. “Carmen! Este es Esteban”.

“Carmen?” I acknowledged, questioning to give her the opportunity to correct me if I said it wrong, while turning more to offer my hand. “I’m afraid I don’t speak much Spanish, either.”

“It didn’t sound that bad to me.”

“Nah, just words. I can understand a bit, but all I can really say is words.”

Maria said something to Carmen in words so fast that all I recognized was the ‘nine days’ again, so figured she was telling her daughter what I had said. Apparently, but not unexpectedly, my words had gotten garbled.

“Oh, you’ll be here for the next week or so?”

“No, I’ve already been here nine days. I’ve got a flight out tomorrow.”

“Oh,” turning to her mother, I presume she explained the misunderstanding in Spanish. Turning back to me, she said “Would you and mother like to join me and my friends?” She must have already discussed this with her mother as Maria was already standing up, taking her glass of wine with her. I didn’t need to answer; the commotion at the table behind us let me know where we were going and Maria had made the decision. Two girls and one young man were making room at the table for us to add two more chairs.

Now with a translator and a few new bodies in place, we started all over again with the questions. Maria and I sat next to each other and for the next few minutes I pretty much answered questions about what I had been doing, where I was from, the whole nine yards.

I found out that Carmen and her boyfriend had come with her two friends to hang out and probably meet up with some other friends at the bar, and after weeks of asking, for the first time they had finally enticed Maria to come with them. Carmen began to fill me in on Maria, obviously sharing only what she thought I needed to know. A widow, Carmen’s father had died almost two years before. Carmen was 22, Maria was 39. I made a big show of surprise that Maria could possibly be that old, which led to a round of laughter. When it settled down, I felt Maria’s leg touching mine. It was crowded, but not that crowded, however she made no effort to move it away.

When the drinks ran low, I offered to buy a round if someone would come help carry, which led to a discussion between the girls about something. Carmen finally explained apologetically that although the offer was appreciated, the girls weren’t really all that interested in the beer. They were more interested in leaving the bottle almost empty, hoping that someone would offer to buy them a round, thereby giving a conversation starter and an opportunity to meet guys. Again I felt like an idiot; it had been umpteen years since I’d spent any time in a hook up bar. I bailed myself out by explaining that I’d been brought to the bar by my co-workers, who were here with the same idea, and that they were going to be here for a few more weeks. Maria pointed out the table where my boys were hanging — thereby confirming she had been looking at me since I didn’t have to say where it was — and the two girls conversed among themselves for about 4 seconds before they agreed they’d go with me to “get drinks.” Drinks, plus girls, plus guys, translated to me carrying two hands full of drinks back to the balcony as Carmen’s two friends — surprise, surprise — decided to stay below with the boys that I had just introduced them to.

The two extra chairs disappeared almost immediately to other tables, but Maria didn’t move away. I slid back into my chair, and as I settled in next to Maria her hand slid over onto my knee. I hadn’t come to the bar with the explicit idea of hooking up with anyone, but I was more than beginning to get the idea that Maria had. I spread my legs slightly, coming in contact with Maria’s, and her hand slipped over my knee to the inside of my leg. I had my hands on the table and kept them that way, playing with my new glass of wine instead.

I’m not sure what it was about Maria. Perhaps it was that she appeared to be more mature; it could have been that she’d obviously given signs of interest in me; but yet, I wasn’t looking to hook up for a one night fling either. I recognized that I was attracted, just her putting her hand on my leg had helped my cock to swell a bit, and the thoughts in my mind began to move into evaluating the possibilities for the evening. She was definitely giving all the signs of interest. Abruptly, I asked her if she wanted to dance. When she looked puzzled, I stood up and held out my hand as Carmen translated.

Something passed between them in Spanish. Maria was eventually satisfied and stood. Taking my hand, I led her down to the floor.

There was very little actual dancing happening on the floor. Before, the place had been crowded, now it was insane. “Dancing” was just bumping and grinding, both with partners and anyone else that was within touching range, which was multiple people of either sex. Whether we wanted to or not, we had a lot of body contact.

Standing well above Maria, every time I looked down I found myself peering into the cavern of her cleavage, enhanced by her breasts pressing against my stomach and chest. We were pressed together by lack of space. All I could hope was that she didn’t find the bump from my semi-swollen penis offensive. She made no indication as to whether she had noticed or not, but I knew as she pressed against me, my cock was between us and she had to have felt me just as I was feeling her breasts mashed against me.

We gave it up after three or four songs. I pointed back upstairs, and taking her hand began inching us toward the stairs. Once at the table, we were back to asking and answering questions, Carmen unsatisfactorily being the translator due to the volume of the music. When we were about out of drinks, I suggested that we should go down and I would have my guys buy us drinks this time. I told them I’d bought three rounds so far, and with having hooked them up with two pretty girls, they definitely owed me. I said I really could care less about them buying drinks, but after they had been giving me a hard time all week about not coming out to the bars with them at night, I wanted to make sure they knew that I had hooked them up with girls in an hour when they’d been coming here for a week without doing it. Carmen explained to her mother what I had said, and after everyone got done laughing, Maria and I headed down to their table while Carmen and her boyfriend stayed to make sure we kept our table.

When we got down to the dance floor, I realized what they had meant when they said it was insane. It was idiotic to even think about it. By now it was so crowded it would have taken an hour just to pick our way from the bar to the table and back. Instead, I just bought another round for ourselves, and we headed back to the balcony. By the time we got back, I’d had my fill of the club.

Conversation, which before had been difficult at best, was now virtually impossible. Carmen was trying to say something, so I leaned forward against the table to hear, and in so doing partially blocked her view of her mother, Maria. Whether or not she knew her mother had put her hand on my leg, I’m certain that when Maria slid her hand back a bit further, resting it on my cock, Carmen did not see that. As I sat back, her hand again slid forward onto my leg. I looked at Maria, she gave me a pleasant little smile, but her eyes were smoldering, asking me, “Did you get the message?”

I nodded my head toward the door and raised my eyebrows in the universal “you wanna get out of here?” signal. I hadn’t meant it for anyone but Maria, but Carmen, the protective daughter, caught it. Her eyes narrowed, with what I presume meant “You’re not leaving with him are you?” spilling from her lips in Spanish.

And so began a low key conversation between mother and daughter, at least as low key as is possible in a crowded nightclub where normal voice levels can’t even be heard, and in a language that I couldn’t follow. Maria assured her that she was ready to leave, that I was ready to leave, and that we were going together. Carmen argued that she didn’t really know me. We’d had fun for the last hour or so, but this was going too far. Maria argued back, and with a final “Mama!” from Carmen that I’m sure meant “I can’t believe you’re really going to do this,” she stood up. Capitulating, Carmen shouted to me, “How are you getting her home? She came with us.”

I pulled out a business card for the Crowne Plaza where I was staying, wrote my name and cell phone number on the back and handed it to her. “My Cell Phone,” I shouted back, pulling the phone out of my pocket and showing it to her at the same time to be sure that she knew what I was saying. Turning, I took Maria’s hand and she stood up. Glancing back, Carmen was still standing, the business card in hand, a disapproving frown on her face. I smiled, nodded, and mouthed, “It’s okay.” I’ve got no idea whether she understood me or not.

Maria slid only to the middle of the taxi’s back seat. Sliding in beside her, her hand immediately went onto my thigh, sliding well up toward my crotch. Her hand wrapped around the inside of my leg, the back of her arm pressed against my rapidly engorging erection which was extending down the opposite pant leg. Maria saved me from explaining our destination to the taxi driver. Besides everything else she said that I didn’t understand, I did understand “Crowne Plaza”. Leaning towards Maria, intending to kiss her, I instead found myself flung backward against the seat as the driver — who apparently only knew two speeds, stop and go — stepped on it. Whipping the wheel to the left he accelerated much harder than he needed to onto the nearly deserted street. Another roller coaster ride from hell, and 15 minutes later we were back to my hotel.

Although I knew my room was where we were really headed, taking Maria’s hand we first went into the bar. I told the bartender we wanted a bottle and then realizing that I was presuming, I asked Maria; “Vino Rojo or Vino Blanco?” Her immediate answer of “Rojo” said that I should have just gone with my gut and ordered. I asked the bartender for a suggestion. He ran through his selection, I stopped him when he reached a Zinfandel that I recognized.

We didn’t stay in the bar long; we both knew we really hadn’t come back to the hotel to drink wine. A couple of sips, and when I picked up my glass and the bottle, and indicated toward the hotel rooms with my eyes, Maria just smiled and picked up her own glass. With Maria’s hand on my arm, we wandered through the hotel, across the central courtyard to my ground-floor room.

I topped Maria’s glass from the few swallows the she had actually taken, and then did the same with mine before stepping forward to put the bottle on the table. As I did, Maria stepped forward, taking my now free hand in hers and set her glass on the table beside the bottle. Reaching for my other hand, I brought it forward and she took my glass from me, setting it on the table beside hers.

Her hand reached up to my face, I bent slightly to meet her touch. Her fingers slid along my cheek, behind my ear, to the back of my neck. The gentle pressure of her hand pulled my head down further, her face tilting up to me. Her eyes closed, our lips met and her body melted against me, her warm lips pressing against mine. I closed my eyes, and savored her mouth, the flavor of Zinfandel greeting me. I slid my hand down her back onto her hip and then back up her side, insinuating it between us, finding her breast, squeezing it gently through her clothes. I realized there was no need for a gentle seduction; she was already breathing heavily, almost panting with desire. Her hands came between us, fumbling at the buttons on my shirt.

Suddenly, the gentle kiss was gone. Our mouths fought to stay together as our hands ripped at each other’s clothes. I got the lacy over-blouse unbuttoned and onto her shoulders and she pulled it from there as my hands moved to finish unbuttoning my own shirt. Catching my shoes with one toe, I stepped out of them, dropping my shirt on top. Reaching over I took the blue spaghetti strap blouse, pulling it from her pants, as her hands reached back to me and began fumbling with my belt buckle. I got the blouse loose and began to lift, while she raised her arms allowing me to pull it over her head.

The black lacy bra she wore was intended for support, not to hide. The large dark brown, almost black, circles of her nipples and areola were visible through the thin lace of the material. I reached for her pants, but she withdrew her hands from my belt and took over, getting them loose, shinnying them off her hips and down her legs in a fraction of the time that I could. Likewise I had my pants undone, stepping out of them before hers hit the floor. She reached behind her back for her bra strap. I stopped her, my hands gripping her arms. “No, let me.”

Whether she understood the words, she understood the meaning and the lustful look in my eyes. I looked her in the face and, sliding my hands over her shoulders, I hugged her to me. My hands traced the spaghetti straps down her back to the wider strip at the bottom, followed that to the middle where, for once, my hands were actually in sync with the bra clasp. Coming undone with surprising ease, I pulled it back towards the front of her body, over her arms. Stepping back as I did so, the cups fell away from her breasts. I dropped the bra where we stood, an arm’s length between us, my eyes devouring her mammoth girls now exposed to my gaze.

Her eyes looked into my face, and her lower lip went between her teeth. I sensed a sudden shyness, as her arms almost rose to cover herself. “Está bien? she asked. I wasn’t sure quite what she meant, but understood that “bien” meant “good.”

“Oh my God, Maria, you are more than good. You’re gorgeous, you’re beautiful. Muy, muy, bien. Muy bonita.” Reaching for her shoulders I pulled her to me, my hands sliding onto her now bare breasts, underneath, lifting and supporting, my thumbs rubbing across her partially erect nipples.

Truthfully her breasts were massive, too large to really lift one-handed. As I lifted, they would roll off to one side, I satisfied myself with just fondling and playing with her nipples. Her eyes closed, the tip of her tongue was visible between her lips, a ragged breath escaping through her nose. I stroked her nipples with my thumbs, rolling them in circles, feeling them enlarging as I did so. Pulling her closer with gentle pressure from my hands underneath her breasts, she stepped forward and I put my arms around her. Crushing her against my chest, our mouths once again mashed together in a passionate kiss.

Her hands went behind me, sliding into my boxers and onto my bare ass. One cheek in each hand, she pulled me against her as hard as I’d been holding her against me. My cock trapped between us, she rubbed back and forth, obviously feeling my erection. Easily picking her up in my arms, her legs wrapped behind me as I carried her to the bed. I sat her down. Realizing I still had socks on, I rose up one leg and then the other to flip them off. Reaching for my boxers she said, “No! Yo quiero.”

I didn’t have a clue what that meant except for the word “no,” which is recognized almost everywhere in the world for what it is. I stopped. Her hands came behind my ass once more, pulling me forward until my legs were against the bed. Her hands moved back to the side, and she began to slide my shorts down my legs. She slid a hand to the front pulling my shorts away from my body and over the top of my upward pointing cock and then continued sliding them down my legs. Once she got them over my thighs they fell quite easily, and I stepped out. Standing in front of her naked, my cock in her face, she just looked at it and then up at me and smiled.

She reached out with her right hand and touched my stomach with the back of her hand. Her fingers stroked all around my erection, across my legs and belly, moving closer and closer to my cock which twitched involuntarily when she first touched it. She ran her fingertips from the head to base before she wrapped her cool fingers around me and began slowly stroking. When she leaned forward I thought she was going to suck me into her mouth, but instead she began touching it to her face, stroking it with my cock. Her eyes closed. I wasn’t sure whether she was stroking my cock with her face or stroking her face with my cock. Probably a bit of both.

I reached down to her breasts once again, kneading, squeezing and fondling her mammoth girls. Her breasts were the largest, natural or artificial, that I’d ever seen or touched in person. Her nipples — already nearly as large in diameter as a dime — expanded to my touch even as her previously smooth areola crinkled around them. Now as big as berries, they were large enough to play with on their own and I began rolling them in my fingers.

She continued softly rubbing my cock against her face, putting the head against her eyelids, rubbing the shaft against her cheeks and nose. Her free hand slid down underneath to fondle my balls, finally opening her mouth, and pressing her lips against the base. Her tongue slipped between her lips, she stroked up the shaft wetly with her lips and tongue. She knew her way around a cock; she stopped at the sweet spot, sucked the loose skin there between her lips. She opened her mouth slightly, sliding her head just a bit higher, finally taking the tip into her mouth, her lips wrapped just over the ridge.

“Oh my God, Maria,” I groaned.

She continued sucking me, her tongue caressing the head, her right hand wrapped around it and slowly stroking while her left hand was fondling my package below. The exquisite sensation was almost too much to take.

She had started with just the head, but I realized as she was moving on my cock, she was slowly working more of my erection into her mouth. Each time she applied suction she would slide another fraction of an inch down; her lips no longer just over the ridge. When she got just that fraction of an inch further than where she’d been before, she’d back off, wet her lips with saliva and slowly suck her way back down again, going just another fraction further.

I hadn’t even really thought of sex in the last two weeks while I’d been in Mexico. With the constant long hours at work, there hadn’t been time to think of anything else. Whether it was Maria’s technique, the several weeks since I’d had sex, or the unexpectedness of our tryst, she had me ready to blow as quickly as any blow job I’ve ever had. The sensation was exquisite, but I wasn’t ready to, or rather I didn’t want to, cum yet. I lifted my hands to Maria’s shoulders and began to gently press backwards. She looked up at me, questioningly.

“No, no, it’s very good.” I said and then realizing I was speaking English said again, “Bien! Muy, muy Bien”. She smiled, released her hold on me and lay back onto the bed.

I leaned over her and kissed her lips. Rolling beside her, her mouth against mine, her hand went behind my head to hold me. Her other hand stroked down my chest, across my hair, finding my nipple, tweaking it, then traversing across to my other nipple, playing with it. My upper hand was once again fondling and caressing her breasts and nipples, exploring her body. I sensed her breathing was becoming less than controlled; every touch from my hand, whether just on her belly or something more sensitive, elicited another quiver in her breathing, another shudder in her body.

Always moving lower, my hand had reached her panties; black lacy see-through nothings that matched her bra. Sliding my hand over them, I could feel her warmth, the fullness of her mound and the wetness; her panties were damp with her arousal. She moaned, lifting her crotch into my hand, and I pressed in. The cloth prevented me from actually penetrating but I spread her lips enough that I could feel the hard little nub of her clitoris, which elicited a gasp from Maria when I touched it. Rubbing back and forth, I felt it slip from one side to the other under my finger, moans of pleasure escaping from her mouth into mine.

Sliding my hand back, I easily slipped my fingers under the elastic edge and down, finding her pubic hair that had been visible through her lacy underwear. This time, my finger easily slipped inside her, her legs spreading wider, her body twitching to the pleasure of my touch. Slipping a second finger inside, I finger fucked her for a few moments, the cloth of her panties trapping my hand from being as effective as I knew it could be in pleasuring her. I did not think it would really make that much difference, as hot and aroused as Maria was, but I didn’t like her panties trapping my hand. Sliding my hand back out, I caught the edge of the material and began to insinuate it over her hips. I slipped one side down an inch or so, then moving over to the other side I began to slide it down, expecting her to raise her bottom off the bed to help. Instead, quite suddenly, her hand gripped mine.

“Puedo quedar embarazada, necesitamos algo,” she said with an almost embarrassed, pleading, look on her face. I didn’t recognize anything she said except for “embarrassed,” but I eased my assault on her last piece of clothing.

“Shhh,” I soothed, raising my hand up to her face and stroking her cheek. “It’s okay. You’re a beautiful, sexy, woman. You don’t have a thing to be embarrassed about.” Mindful of what I understood was her embarrassment, I slowed my pace, returning to suckle her near nipple while my hand rolled her other nipple at the same time. She relaxed somewhat; I heard a moan of pleasure as her fingers stroked the back of my head. I didn’t know whether she understood a thing I said, but I’m sure she understood the feeling of my voice and words.

Releasing her nipple from my mouth, I slid back off the bed, standing on the floor and I pushed her legs together before I climbed back up, straddling her body. Pressing my cock and balls against her belly I slithered and squirmed against her, gradually moving higher. She recognized almost immediately what I was doing; as my cock slipped between her breasts she pushed them together creating a valley for me to fuck. A smile went over her face. Somehow I knew I was not the first man to have a cock between her gorgeous breasts. Her eyes watched as my cock appeared and disappeared between them as I slowly fucked her tits. When her tongue came out, reaching for my cock head as I reached the top of my stroke, I pushed just that little bit further and stopped momentarily, allowing her to tongue me.

She’d obviously done this before, she knew exactly how to suckle my cock, her lips caressing, her tongue swirling and teasing exquisitely. The sensation reminded me that she had almost sucked me off just minutes before. “My God Maria, you know how to use your tongue!” I knew she didn’t have a clue what I said, but she knew intimately my meaning, as on the very next stroke she raised her head and did her best to engulf my cock into her warm inviting mouth once again. Seeing the strain of her holding her head up, I reached to help as her tongue and lips caressed me.

Pulling my cock back from her mouth, I slowly slithered my body back down hers until I was once again lying on top of her. I could feel her hard nipples, large and inviting, pressing against my chest; my erection between our bodies, pressing against the softness of her belly. I ran my hand down her side and underneath; my fingers caressing her hip and slipping under her bottom. I kissed her lips. She responded, hungrily sucking my tongue into her mouth just as she had my cock moments before. I rose slightly, leaned to one side to allow my hand to explore her breasts once again. I trailed the kiss from her lips and chin and neck, gradually kissing my way down her body. I slid my own body back and out of the way until I was on the floor. Pressing against her body, I urged her to scoot up further onto the bed.

Pushing her legs apart, moving my body between hers to prevent them from coming together again, I bent my head to her body. Lifting her breasts, I kissed their under-side, slowly moving my tongue and kisses down her belly. I snaked my tongue into her belly button which apparently tickled, as she giggled and pushed my head away.

I continued lower on her body with my mouth while my hands, which had been stroking her legs, slid up her thighs. Forcing her legs wider, I insinuated my left fingers under her panties, pushing them to the middle until they slipped over her lip. Rising to my knees, I looked down to see her panties were now splitting her pussy, one meaty lip exposed. Moving my hand to the other side, I pulled the other side of her panties to the middle so they covered nothing but her clit. Stroking and fondling her pussy lips, I pressed into her body, rubbing them, pulling on them, touching everything except the sensitive button at the top of her slit. I pulled her panties aside so that I could once again slip a finger inside of her. At first, she tensed, but when all I did was slip my fingers into her pussy one more time, she relaxed.

I couldn’t figured it out, these mixed messages that I was getting. Just where was she coming from? This was a warm, beautiful woman with a beautiful daughter. She’d had a husband, she knew her way around a cock, she was no virgin, and she’d come with me, ostensibly for sex. She had let me know that she wanted to come with me, and when I had indicated that we should come to my room she had readily agreed. She practically stripped me of my clothes, and although neither of us had as yet had an orgasm, there was no doubt that she wanted — no, rather that she needed — to orgasm.

Still slowly working my mouth down her body, I had reached her pubic hair. My finger caressed inside her, but her writhing was obviously attempting to get my hand to touch her clit. The more she twisted into my hand, the more I avoided her need. Instead I kissed still lower. As my mouth almost reached where I could tongue her, her hand came over and touched my head. I looked up to her face, an expression of “What are you doing?” readily apparent on her face

“It’s okay, Maria. Trust me.” Her hand, against my head as she was gently trying to push it aside, eased its pressure. I’m sure she didn’t understand my words, but she understood the meaning, and regardless of whether she understood or not I stopped the downward motion of my face. Instead, while smiling up at her, I touched her clit with my thumb.

She jerked in response, a sharp gasp escaping from her mouth, her eyes going wide with surprise and pleasure. That’s what she thought she had been wanting, and I gave it to her unexpectedly. Playing with her pussy expertly, two fingers inside her, I brought my other hand over to caress her clit more gently than I could with my thumb. Her stomach contracted in response to my touch, her hips rising to push herself against me. When her eyes closed, I leaned forward just that little bit more and replaced my fingers with my tongue.

I’m guessing that her eyes flashed open, but I wasn’t looking anymore. Her mouth spewed Spanish. I don’t know the words but I’m sure she was saying “no, don’t do that! That’s nasty!” But I continued, my tongue caressing her clit, the protests diminishing, her body responding more and more. I recognized as her pelvis rose, her juices flooding my fingers, her verbal protests changing to just panting and moans. Her fingers were gripping the bed, trying to hold herself down even as her hips were rising, her back arching, to meet my mouth. At last, with a gurgling scream, her body spasmed in orgasm. Her stomach contracted, her hips shook, her clit — swollen to twice as large as it had been when I started — throbbed beneath my tongue. I stilled my motions, just holding my tongue against her nub, feeling it throb several times more. As her body quieted, I heard a sob. Pulling myself from her pussy, I couldn’t resist running my tongue a little lower, tasting her juices and then dragging it across her clit one more time, a shiver running through her in response as I moved my body next to her in bed.

Her face immediately turned to mine, her eyes wide in wonderment as her hand reached up to stroke my cheek.

“Madre de Dios,” she whispered her eyes cloudy with droplets of tears. She wasn’t sad, I wasn’t quite sure what that crying was about, but I instantly forgot it as her mouth attacked mine. My hands were once again stroking her body, which apparently didn’t need much stroking. She pushed me sideways just that little bit onto my back, her mouth now lavishing kisses on me.

Her kisses left my lips, covering my face, while her hands were all over my chest. She rolled over on top of me, sitting up on my stomach. I helped push her upright, and marveled again at her massive breasts. Lifting one with both hands, my fingers seeking her nipples, I pushed them back and forth watching them wobble above me. She giggled at my play. Raising my head I pulled her nipples to my mouth as her fingers were twiddling my own. Leaning down, again pressing her breasts to my chest and hands, she returned to passionately installing more kisses onto my neck, onto my chest, finding and sucking every inch of my upper body.

Her hand reached between us, finding my cock and gripping it. She looked back at my face, a devilish glint in her eye. I knew what she was going to do even before she did, so was not surprised when she slid down and once again wrapped her breasts around my cock. As massive as they were she didn’t have to hold them together to fuck my cock but she did, her fingers wrapped over the front stroking her own nipples.

She moved her body up and down – she was obviously familiar with this position. I suspected her late husband had been a fan of fucking her tits. As pleasant as it was, it paled in comparison when she slid further down and holding my cock upright with one hand lowered her mouth onto my erection. Something about the way she was doing this, I could tell this was no longer foreplay; she intended to suck me off.

Her body was now down to my legs, practically out of reach, but I got enough attention that she moved sideways where I could reach her, at least with one hand. Laying on her side, my cock in her mouth most of the time, her eyes were open looking at my face. With my left hand I went from nipple to nipple, stroking each in turn. I ran my hand across her belly towards her panties. This time, when I could only reach her with a hand, for the first time she willingly raised her upper leg, opening herself to my fingers’ caress. Her panties had slipped back into place from my earlier touches, but she readily allowed me to move them aside again. Her pussy was wet. I easily slipped one and then another finger into her, stroking inside momentarily before sliding them back up so that her clit rode in the groove of my well lubricated fingers.

I could sense the heightening arousal of her body as I stroked her, the sudden contractions of her stomach, moving her crotch against my fingers, occasionally losing concentration of the action that her mouth was doing to my cock. But always she came back, forgetting her own pleasure. This time she wanted to make sure that I came. I managed to hold off my own peak, but she didn’t. I recognized the uncontrollable clinching and spasming of her pussy and lower body as she came the second time, yet she hungrily continued working on my cock until I too, came.

She took me in her mouth, her tongue swirling around my cock head. She made no attempt to swallow, just sucking twirling, letting me cum, excess dribbling out of her mouth. As soon as my cock had quit throbbing, she moved aside, spitting whatever was left onto my belly, and then returned to suck my rapidly shrinking erection into her mouth again. A bit of my semen came late; she took it into her mouth, spit it again and returned to my cock until she’d expertly sucked me dry. Although she wasn’t a swallower, she was every bit as good as anyone that has ever sucked my cock. For the moment, both of us at least temporarily satisfied, she crawled back up beside me, snuggling into my arm. I stroked her arm, getting quite drowsy as we relaxed until we finally dozed off.

I realized vaguely when she stirred and moved away in bed. I woke enough as she climbed out to watch her move to the bathroom. I heard her pee, followed by water running in the sink. A moment later she was back on the bed, where she wiped and washed away the glob of semen that she had spit on my belly. When she returned a second time and snuggled back into my arm, I had awoken from my dozing enough to begin to stroke her body one more time.

Her nipples had shrunken back into her breasts but they responded appreciatively as I began to stroke them with my fingertips. Swirling gently around them, they grew to my gentle teasing. She lay there in my arms, watching my fingers on her body and for the first time since our first few minutes together said something in English. “You like?”

“Oh God, Maria.” I said, my eyes traversing from her breasts to her eyes. “I like very much.” Trailing a finger up her body, I touched her cute pug nose and said “I like.” Moving down to her lips I repeated the phrase and again as I lifted and squeezed a massive breast, as I twirled a finger around her now more pronounced nipple, yet again as I stuck a finger into her belly button. When my hand reached her panties, I said nothing as I slowly worked down inside feeling her pubic hair, slipping between her lips, and drawing a finger back out until it rested on her clitoris. She didn’t say anything, but I could see her growing desire as I looked into her eyes.

“Are you ready to do it again?” I could tell from the look of puzzlement she didn’t understand. “Uno Mas?” (One more) I asked her, not having a clue how else to ask her if she was ready for another round.

She smiled, pulling her bottom lip once again between her teeth, in that adorable way that said she was going to ask something. I saw the hesitation, and then her finger came up, touched my lip and then she slid her hand down between her legs, touching her panties over pussy. At first I didn’t click on what was she was asking, but when she shyly stuck the tip of her tongue out, at the same time tapping her panties I understood what she was asking. And just like that, with sudden clarity, it all came together; her trying to keep me from going down on her to begin with and now her wide-eyed asking for it. I was suddenly certain she had never had anyone perform oral sex on her before. It was obvious she was adept, actually quite good at sucking cock, but I doubted her husband, or anyone before him if there was someone, had ever gone down on her.

When I understood exactly what she meant, I didn’t hesitate. Kissing my way down her body she allowed me to pull her panties aside. I took my time, making love to her pussy with my mouth and tongue and fingers, lying between her legs where she could not even touch me. She tried to get me to move sideways but I resisted, staying where I was, where she could do nothing but just lie there and allow me to love her. For some reason she still wouldn’t allow me to remove her panties, but allowed me to pleasure her with them moved aside; sucking, nibbling, and tonguing her pussy. I slipped my tongue as deeply into her vagina as I could. I tongued her perineum and sucked her pussy lips and her clitoris, finally finishing her off — after I had her writhing in ecstasy — with my tongue on her clit and two fingers inside. She reached orgasm and I kept her there, at her peak, quivering and shaking until once again she was literally crying in pleasure.

I slid up beside her in bed, her arms immediately going around me, holding me close. She made no attempt to stop her crying this time, her muted gasps of “Madre de Dios” muffled against my shoulder. I stroked her hair, just holding her as she composed herself. Her sobs died off, her face turned up to mine. Our lips met again in a soft embrace. “Tan Bueno, Tan Bueno” she said. I recognized she must be telling me it was good, whether that was the exact translation or not.

We lay there together, my erection resting against her leg, until she reached down, grasped me with her hand and began to slowly stroke me. I let her play with me for a few moments before rolling more onto my back. I slid my hands along her shorter body, over her back and into her panties under her bottom. I squeezed her bare flesh, and moving my hands back up I caught the edge of her underwear and began to inch them down one more time. No sooner had I begun to move her underwear off her body than immediately I saw panic in her eyes. I stopped my fingers immediately, but I just didn’t understand. “What’s the matter, Maria?”

I don’t know whether she understood or not but she answered, “Por favor, no puedo. No puedo quedar embarazada.”

There it was again, and still I didn’t understand. “Por favor,” I recognized as” Please,” and “embarrassed” I also recognized. Here she was again saying, “Please I don’t want to be embarrassed”? I pulled my hands from her underwear, and realized that although I had an erection, I really needed to go to the bathroom also. I was frustrated, I felt she really wanted to make love, but something wasn’t translating. I rolled away from her and off the bed, realizing that suddenly my revitalized erection wasn’t quite as rigid as it had been. “El Bano,” I told her as I headed for the bathroom. Despite my flagging erection, it still took a couple of minutes standing over the toilet before I could get it to drop enough to allow me to pee. Once I began, the multiple glasses of wine and beer that I’d had all came out, and I peed like a racehorse.

As I was standing there peeing, I felt Maria’s hands on my back. She ran them down to my butt, slid up behind me, her arms going around my waist, her breasts mashed against my back. I finished peeing, but stood there for a moment feeling her voluptuous body against my back. My erection began to rise again, whether she could see me in the mirror or just sensed it, her hands lowered until they found my cock which, one more time, rapidly grew to full erection in her skilled hands.

I shook my head, not understanding. She loved playing with my cock. She loved having me go down on her. She loved me fingering her. She’d sucked my dick without hesitation. How, after all that, she could be embarrassed about her pussy I wasn’t sure. But, despite her embarrassment, as long she would allow me to push her panties aside as I had when I went down on her, we could still fuck that way. Reaching into my shaving kit on the back of the toilet I found the package of condoms that I always have and took them out. Turning, I slipped my arm around her nearly naked body, guiding her before me as we moved back to the bedroom.

I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her body to me. Standing before me, her breasts were exactly at mouth level. Although she definitely needed a firm support bra while dressed, they were to my eye, absolutely perfect. Fondling her melons with both hands, I thumbed her nipples, lifted her breasts in my hands, sucking first one and then the other of her areola and the attached nub into my mouth. I hadn’t hid the condoms when we returned to the bedroom, I’d merely dropped them onto the bed as I’d sat down. Now, while I nuzzled and suckled her breasts she suddenly gasped, “Tiene condones?”

I pulled away from her breast to see what she was saying just as she bent beside me and grabbed the package of condoms to hold them before me accusingly. I don’t know exactly what she had said but she repeated, “Yo tiene condones?” which sounded something like “condoms” so I acknowledged them with a nod.

“Yeah, I had condoms in the bathroom. They were in…” She pushed me back onto the bed, devouring me with a kiss as she did so. I realized that somehow before she must have been telling me that we had to use condoms or no play time, and sure enough, this time when I reached for her panties, there was no turning aside. There was no coy little move to distract me, nor any claim of embarrassment. She waited while I slipped her panties over her thighs, and reaching to take them with her own hand flipped them off her legs onto the floor. For the first time both of us were totally naked.

With a sigh of delight she pushed me onto my back and settled herself onto me so that the folds of her labia caressed my dick. She leaned forward, sliding her pussy up and down along my cock. I could tell she was rubbing her clitoris against my erection. Sliding back and sitting up, she held me upright between her legs, opened the foil and expertly unrolled a condom onto me.

There was no question about how we were going to do it, she merely rose up and with her hand directed my now raincoat covered erection into her waiting warmth.

Whereas before we had been adventuresome and exploratory with each other, now that Maria knew I had condoms, she was insatiable. The obvious apprehension about having sexual intercourse gone, she was a ready and willing partner who was either a nymphomaniac, or a woman who had done without for way too long. Having already cum once, and wearing a condom, my build-up was slow enough and the sensation weak enough that Maria had orgasm after orgasm before I finally came the second time.

This was a woman who loved to screw, and knew how two bodies were supposed to fit together. We would do it in one position for a while, and then move to another. We would do that position for a while and then move to a third. She knew just what she needed to get herself off in every position; and even though it was quite some time before I purposely allowed myself to cum again, we both thoroughly enjoyed the coupling of our bodies.

We collapsed into each other’s arms, after I’d cum again, and fell asleep. I don’t know how long we slept, but it was after five when she woke me again, her hand playing with my penis, trying to get a reaction from me. I awoke slowly, gradually realizing what was happening, and began stroking Maria’s back and bottom with the lower part of the arm that her head was resting on. Although I was slightly beginning to respond to her caress, I felt grungy.

When I rose and said “let’s go take a shower,” indicating washing motions with my hands, she understood perfectly. I washed her body and she washed mine, and by the time we were done I was once again totally erect and ready. We dried each other off, and when we were done, she laughingly led me back to the bed with my cock.

The bed was virtually destroyed, even though we had never even crawled under the covers. I pulled the comforter and top sheet down, giving us clean sheets to crawl in on. She took pillows, plumped them against the headboard and sat down, her back and head against the pillows. Sliding in next to her I leaned in and began suckling and playing with her breasts again. She just sat there, most of my body out of her reach, her hand stroking the back of my head. She spread her legs for me, I let one hand slide down between her legs and soon enough she was dripping wet again. I looked over to the bedside table where the package of condoms were and motioned for them. They were out of my reach, although she could have reached for them, she didn’t. I looked into her face and found an impish look. She’d understood me perfectly, but hadn’t followed through. Knowing that I wasn’t going to fuck her without a condom, nor did I want to, I wasn’t sure what was happening. Something about her impish look, I looked at her sideways with my own smile in return and asked “What are you up to?”

September 2018
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