multiple orgasms

She waits in the whirlpool while I undress. She is dark-skinned and nude, leaning back, anticipating. Bubbles swirl around her, and she runs her hands through the jolts of water. I watch her in the mirror. Her body is below the water, and her breasts and nipples rise above the surface.



I turn around, naked, and she looks at me. Without hiding her gaze, she looks at my body from my legs to my hips to my breasts to my face then back down, settling on my waist then my cunt. Watching her watch me makes my pussy moist and my lips swell.



I step up over the side of the tub, and her eyes remain fixed on me. I am wetter now, to my outer lips and to the tops of my thighs. There is a warm tightness in my chest, an aching.



She reaches her hand to mine, and my skin is fair next to hers. I sit with my back to one strong jet. Her hand strokes up my arm to my shoulder, then to the back of my neck, and through my hair, which she pulls back in a sweet fist. I let my head relax back and reach my foot forward to feel another jet hit my foot and shoot water up my leg.



She comes closer and kisses me, hot and wet, our tongues soft, the kiss hungry. We both breathe heavily, and our kiss becomes stronger. Heat rushes through me to my nipples, to my wet pussy. I pull her to me and our hard nipples press into one another’s. She moans. I slide my hand up her wet body and press her nipple between my fingers.



“Harder,” she says.



I squeeze her nipple harder, and she gasps. “Yes,” she says.



I squeeze a bit harder and pull her nipple outward. “Oh fuck,” she says, then gasps a few times in a row. I reach for her other breast and pinch both nipples at once. Her body shakes. She bites my lower lip and breathes in short gasps.



She gets on top of me and straddles me in the water, slightly shaking, while I feel her tits, put one nipple in my mouth and bite softly. She arches back and presses her cunt into mine. Her legs are spread and she starts to ride me.



I put my hands on her ass and pull her firmly onto me. I push her downward so her wet cunt is on top of my clit, and I press up into her. I move her back and forth, so she is riding me with her hot lips surrounding my swollen clit. Heat fills my pussy; I am dripping wet, moving and fucking her to feel our pussies sliding back and forth and pressing hard against each other. I am sweating. I feel an orgasm building, and I hold her hips in place so I can ride against her from below.



She is on top of me, the water all around us, and my pussy is hot and intense and I am breathing and I want this moment – right before I come – to last and last, but I can’t control it; I keep pushing myself harder and faster against her, riding myself back and forth and now in jerking movements, and the inside of my pussy is starting to spasm and the heat is rising in me and she puts her breasts in my face – hard – and her skin is slippery and wet, and she’s moaning too and riding me, and I pump my hips uncontrollably up, down, up and down, and I am coming so hard and strong and the heat is intense, the water a crazy display of waves and bubbles, and I take her shoulders and pull her down onto me hard so I can feel her wet cunt spread open against me.



She shivers and falls forward into me, riding me back and forth, then makes deep guttural sounds, “Oh baby, yes, yes,” she says, and she bucks and humps and jerks and loses control, “Oh god, baby, yes, oh fuck, I’m coming ” then one long intense moan and I feel heat and wet from her cunt to mine. She grinds into me, grinds in circles, “Oh, god, again, I’m coming again, oh god,” her hard clit grinding in circles on me.



“Oh fuck,” she says, “I can’t believe I came so hard.”



She’s hot in every way, and wet, and her last hard crazy orgasm has me still feeling insane. I want to feel the hard water of the Jacuzzi jet on my clit. One jet shoots into my back and others into my legs. She slides down lower onto my lap then off of me and sits next to me, rubbing her hand up and down my still-aching body, my hard nipples, my wet pussy.



I get up onto my knees and turn around. Instantly the jet rushes hard water onto my cunt. I place my clit over the water and the effect is instant. I try to hold back, but it’s so hard and hot and intense. I grab the side of the tub and force myself to keep my hips in place, the jet straight on my clit. My thigh muscles shake and buckle and my breath is heaving and I am coming so fucking hard. She gets behind me, her breasts to my back, her cunt to my ass, her hands on my hips, and she presses into me. I am moaning then let myself scream loud and hard. My back arches and she grabs my tits in her hands, squeezes them, and another orgasm takes over me before the last one stopped. I am pumping back and forth and up and down against the water, and it is so intense it is nearly too intense but it feels so fucking hot and hard and wet, and there is a rush of wet from my pussy and the walls spasm, my hips spasm, my ass presses back into her, and I am moaning a higher pitched sound than hers was. I’m gasping, and my pussy is hot and spent and still it feels intensely, deeply good.



She rocks herself against my ass slowly, holding me tightly, her breasts pressed into my back, and once more I feel her shiver against me, and I hear her uneven breath, and she bites the back of my shoulder.



She sits back down in the tub and I collapse back onto her, on her lap, my back to her. Her hands slide over my body as we still breathe heavily but more regularly. When her hand gets to my pussy she slides two fingers inside me, and I can’t believe it but it feels so good, so good, and I put my hand over hers to keep her there, and one last slow time, I come on her, my pussy tightening around her fingers in rhythmic bursts. It’s a slow orgasm, a finished, spent, happy orgasm, that sends me into a state of euphoria and afterglow, surrounded by the whirling water.

The room is hot. Steamy. The heat of all those bodies thrusting and grinding to the thunder beat of the music rises and condenses, forming a fog of sweat and pheromones. The cloud settles over the club, making the air thick and nearly cloying, coating the windows with fat droplets of moisture which run down the glass in tiny streams, the distilled essence of the evening. I have been standing here for half an hour by now, on the outskirts of the crowd, watching the dancers, envying the grace of all those sleek, perfumed creatures whose bodies tremble and shiver like reflected sunlight. They seem like hallucinations to me, like projections of a fevered imagination.



I came here with no one, wearing as little clothing as decency allows and heels so tall that by the end of the night it’ll feel like I’ve been wearing iron hobbles. Men look at me every now and again, their eyes sliding from gleaming red shoes to the froth of blonde curls surrounding my face, lingering on the landmarks in between. I try to smile at them, my lips slick with gloss, red, pouting, practically begging to be put to a better use. They walk over to me, smiling in that secret satisfied way men have when they think they’re about to discover a shortcut to the land of intercourse and I try not to shudder away from them. They buy me a drink; we talk for ten, maybe twenty minutes. After awhile they leave. They don’t come back. I drink my drink. I like them rough; I want to taste the sharp, mind-numbing tang of the alcohol, feel the burn as it slides down my throat and into my belly. I prefer the dark liquors, the oak and smoke of whiskey, the exotic, desert wind taste of tequila. I’ve got three or four drinks in me by now and my buzz is starting to edge over into drunkenness. I feel looser now, less anxious about my surroundings.



The feeling of being hemmed in by hundreds of warm bodies sometimes frightens me, makes me feel short of breath, but after coming here every weekend for months on end, the fear has for the most part left me. The first time I came here I had to leave only a few minutes later, shocked by the onslaught of masculine interest I had received. That first time was only a whim, coming to the club, but I realized afterwards, driving home with my heart still hammering in my chest, that this was something I had to force myself to get used to. Normal people went to clubs. Normal people enjoyed going to clubs. Normal people did not spend every day of the week secluded in their apartment reading or just staring out the window, wondering what was going on outside. I would force myself to be normal. So Every Friday night I dress up in my skimpiest outfits (not that I have very many of them) and, feeling as if I have already been stripped half-naked, I go to the club and force myself to talk to men. This has been going on for months by now, and I think I’ve become pretty good at scaring them away within twenty minutes or so.



Someone touches my arm lightly and I jump, almost tripping over my own feet. Fingers dust over my skin, tracing the point of my elbow briefly before settling lightly on my forearm. My skin tingles where the fingers touched me, as if I had just been brushed with a bundle of live wires, and I wonder whether the sensation is physical or just in my head. He cups my elbow in his palm. “Are you thirsty?” he asks, and now I look into his face. He’s cute. Probably too cute for his own good judging by the way he carries himself. A man like this is not used to rejection, especially from women who look like I do tonight. The way he touches me is not too invasive, but just familiar enough to indicate a knowledge of exactly what it is that girls like me are supposed to want to do with boys like him. My first instinct is to jerk my arm away, but I restrain myself. I let him touch me.



“Yes,” I say. My throat is dry and the words come out almost as a croak. He smiles at me and I look into his eyes. They are dark hazel, a light brown shot through with green. I realize that this one is dangerous, but not in a predatory sort of way. I could easily lose myself in eyes like that.



“I’ve seen you here before,” he says. His voice is pitched low but even so, I can hear it over the pulsing of the music. It’s a deep voice, slightly rough as if he had either just been smoking or screaming. I smell no smoke on him. Only clean skin, the faint musk of cologne, and the barest hint of whiskey on his breath.



“I come here a lot.” I say. I keep snatching little darting glances at him. He never seems to be looking anywhere but at my face, so our eyes are always meeting. Every time it happens, I feel a jolt in my belly. It makes it hard for me to concentrate.



“Could I buy you a drink?” It’s barely a question.



He’s already leading me to the bar when I say,



“Yes.”



He makes his way easily through the crowd, who seem unconsciously to move aside for him. His hand lingers on my elbow, pulling me along in his wake. I’m surprised that I feel no desire to shake loose of him. He approaches the bar and the red-haired woman working behind it gives him her immediate attention. “Yes sir?” she asks.



“Two of the Chivas Regal, on the rocks,” he says,



“The good kind please.” I watch as the bartender reaches not behind the bar but beneath it, pulling out a gleaming wooden chest and setting it down in front of us. Out of it comes a squat brown bottle, its label so gilded and ornate that I can’t even tell what the letters on it are. She pours a generous measure of the whiskey into each glass before handing them both to the man beside me. He begins to walk towards a bunch of high tables towards the left of the bar, a sort of annex divided from the rest of the club by a dozen potted palm trees. I follow him. He sits down at one of the high tables and I sit across from him. He hands me my drink and I raise it to my lips, taking a long, slow sip. It is the best whiskey I have ever tasted, smooth as velvet but burning with astonishing violence on its way down to the stomach. I feel drunker almost immediately. My body feels elastic, and everything is bathed in a warm whiskey-colored glow. The music pulses in my ears like a heartbeat. I wait for him to say something, but he just sips his drink and stares at me over the rim of his glass.



I say, “Do you come here often?” It’s an inanity I know, but it’s all I can think of to say.



“Yes, you could say that.” He takes a few sips of his drink. Then he says, “You’ve been coming here every weekend night for the past month, but I’ve never seen you dance. Why is that?”



I have no idea how to respond. I wonder who he is, what he does for a living, but I won’t ask him either of those things. They don’t really matter do they? At least, not tonight. I wonder how to answer his question. “I guess I’ve never really felt like anyone wanted to dance with me,” I say. It’s not the truth. Plenty of men have asked me to dance. I’ve just never had the courage to say yes.



“You could dance with any man here,” he says, gesturing with his glass at the crush of people just beyond the potted tree line. He continues to look at me and his gaze is hot, making my clothes, what little there is of them, feel suddenly too tight, stifling. I take a drink and the sensation of the ice-chilled whiskey first cooling my mouth and then burning its way down my dry throat makes me shiver. He notices.



“Are you alright?” he asks.



“Yes,” I say.



“It’s very hot in here, isn’t it?”



“Yes.” I stare at the tabletop.



“Would you like to come with me to some place a little bit cooler?”



I hesitate, images of the nasty things that can happen to a girl at the hands of a stranger flickering through my head. I force back the paranoia. “Where did you have in mind?” I ask, and I’m proud that my voice doesn’t shake at all.



“A VIP room. The club usually keeps it for me and my guests. Would you like to see it?”



I hesitate again, unable to help myself. I should say no. He could be a crazed sadist wanting to whisk me away to a broom closet for a quick raping. I take another long sip of whiskey to quench my throat and then I say, “Yes.” He finishes his drink in one smooth swallow and gets up from the table. I take the hint and follow his example, knocking back what’s left of my drink and barely even wincing as it sizzles its way down to my belly. I stand up.



He takes my hand, folding it inside of his own, and leads me back through the club, past the DJ booth to an unremarkable door set into the far wall. He opens it with a key he carries on a gold ring in his pocket. Behind it is a staircase, dimly lit, paneled in dark wood. We climb it, him still keeping a tight hold on my hand, as if he is afraid that at any moment I might try to run away from him. The thought does occur to me, but I’ve come this far already. I might as well let myself go a little further.



The stairs lead directly up into a single spacious room. One wall in entirely taken up with a Plexiglas window which overlooks the club. The view is god-like. All those people, all their secret dances, the ways in which they flow through and over one another are visible to us in this eyrie. The rest of the room is just as impressive as its window. In its center, two black leather sofas stand on either side of a glass-topped wrought iron coffee table. A stereo system the size of a man stands against one wall and a well-stocked bar is sunk into another. The light is dim and golden, filtering down from the room’s only real extravagant affectation, an ornate wrought-iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The door clicks shut softly behind me and I turn, realizing that now we are completely isolated from the crowd. He could do anything he wants to me up here and nobody would know. He’s watching me take in his room.



“What do you think?” he asks. Now that we’re insulated from the throb of the music, I can detect the barest trace of an accent in his voice. It could be Spanish or maybe Italian, something that lifts the edges of his sentences and makes some of his words sound as if he is about to sing them rather than speak.



“It’s beautiful. The window,” I gesture to it, unable to find words to describe the effect that the window has upon the room.



“Thank you,” he says, “It cost roughly as much as the stereo downstairs, but I like to think that it was worth the money. I would have paid a fortune to be able to have this view.” He crosses the room to stand beside me at the window. My first instinct is to draw away, but I restrain myself.



Instead, I ask him something which I had begun to suspect ever since I saw him order the Chivas Regal. “Is this your club?”



He pauses for a moment. “Yes. One of them. Probably my favorite. My name is Andre.” He offers me his hand and I take it. The handshake is more intimate than such a cursory gesture should be. He presses his palm to mine for several long seconds, and I can feel his pulse. It’s steady. He is perfectly at ease. If he can feel mine, he’ll know that my heart is pounding in my chest. He releases my hand and says, “Do you have a name?”



My cheeks sting. “I’m Sophie,” I say, without stopping to think. I don’t usually tell men my real name. I give them a fantasy name like Desiree, or Veronika, or Justine, something that sounds like the handle of a high-priced call girl.



“Sophie,” he says. From his mouth, my name sounds exotic, even sexy. I’ve always thought it sounded like the name of a pre-pubescent girl, but hearing him say it makes me feel like a woman. “Not quite what I expected, but it suits you.” There is a pause and then he asks, “So, do you often abscond to private rooms with strange men?”



The question catches me off guard. “What?”



He laughs. “I’m sorry, I was just kidding.”



“I don’t usually do things like this,” I say, and despite all my drinking my throat is dry. “You’re the only one who’s ever asked me.”



“I find that very hard to believe.”



“It’s true.”



“What a shame.” He raises his drink to his lips and half of the liquid inside slips smoothly down his throat. “Now, there is one thing that has been puzzling me. Why do you come to a dance club if you don’t dance?”



“I guess I come here to watch.”



“Just to watch?”



“I don’t know. Maybe if someone really persuaded me I would join in.” He smiles very slightly and raises an eyebrow. I look down, my face flooded with a hot blush.



“Would I be right in assuming that that was a hint?” He asks, finishing off the liquor in his glass and putting it down on the coffee table. I do the same.



“Yes.” I smile at him, trying to act composed, but inside I’m trembling. This is as close as I’ve allowed myself to come to another human being in two years, and I’m pretty sure that he’s going to want to come closer. I’m pretty sure that I want him to come closer.



I watch as he picks up a tiny black remote control from the coffee table and presses a button. The stereo in the corner comes to life, purring out the strains of some exotic music, mambo or samba. He holds out his hand to me. “Will you dance with me Sophie?”



I hold my breath, and then let it out. I look into his eyes, dangerous eyes the color of dying sunlit leaves and I say “Yes.” I put my hand in his and he pulls me up from the couch. I feel the strength in his arm as he takes me and leads me into the middle of the room and little shivers tip-toe over my skin. I realize that although I’ve always wanted to be in this position, I really have no idea what I’m doing. I stand stiffly, his hand still holding mine. Do I put my hand on his waist or is he supposed to do that? I feel myself beginning to blush again as I stand there, stupidly doing nothing.



“Here,” he says, and pulls me so that I’m standing very close to him. I smell his cologne, very faint, a spicy musk. He rests one hand on my hip, keeping a firm hold on my right hand and raising it into the air. He begins to sway, his feet performing an uncomplicated series of steps. I try to imitate him but my feet are clumsy and I stumble into him, inadvertently pressing myself against his chest. The hand on my hip flexes and instead of pushing me away again, he holds me in position, with my breasts pressed firmly against his chest. “That’s better,” he says, and begins to sway, his feet no longer sketching the steps. We’re too close for that. He just moves his body with the music, moving me along with him until I do it of my own accord.



I realize that I’m drunk. Only a little, but it’s enough to make the light from the chandelier hazy and to make the music feel like it’s inside of me as well as all around me. It takes over my body, relaxing the muscles and whispering to me to move just a little bit closer to him, to close the half-inch gap that still stands between us. I move my body forward. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The gap between us closes and I realize immediately that he has an erection. I can feel it through the taut cloth of his jeans. A part of me wants to draw away again, to blush and apologize and then beat a hasty retreat, but I’m tired of being afraid, afraid of men and afraid of myself. Fear’s been ruling my life for way too long. Instead of drawing away, I angle my hips so that I brush against the front of his jeans when we move. I’m wearing only the most minimal panties, so I wonder if he can feel the wet heat of me underneath my skirt. The thought excites me and I realize that this really is it. I’m going to do it.



Not letting myself think anymore, I stand on tiptoe and press my lips to his. He tastes like the liquor we’ve been drinking, and some other exotic flavor all of his own. I suck at his lips, loving the plump firmness of them. We’re still swaying to the music, but now he wraps both of his arms around me. One hand slides up to cradle the back of my head and he presses my face more firmly against his. His lips part beneath mine, and for the first time his tongue darts into my mouth. I meet it with my own, flicking at it tentatively, and then he’s devouring me, taking possession of my mouth as if he were trying to suck the breath out of my body. My knees weaken and I slump into him, but he isn’t fazed. What he does is reach down and scoop me into his arms as if I weigh no more than a doll, his mouth still fastened over mine, his tongue still working diligently. I wonder where we’re going, but I realize that I don’t really care. I focus on kissing him back with as much ferocity as he is kissing me.



He carries me to the sofa and lays me down on it, perching himself on the edge of one of the cushions so that he’s looking down at me. He reaches out and begins to run his hands over my body. His fingers run lightly down my face, tracing the groves of my flushed cheekbones, my eyelids, my kiss-swollen lips. He cups my chin in his palm, feeds hungrily on my lips for another moment and then his hands are running down my shoulders, my bare arms, tracing the outlines of my collarbones. He works his way down until he’s cupping my breasts with both hands through the thin satin of my shirt. I wear no bra, so my nipples stiffen immediately beneath his touch. He pinches them, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my pussy. His hands begin to massage me, kneading my breasts with a tender ferocity that continues to send shockwaves down between my legs, which have fallen apart on the couch cushions of their own volition.



But now memories of the last time someone touched me like this start to crowd my consciousness. I remember how I felt the last time that I lay with legs spread and a warm male body over top of me. My stomach clenches and a cold chill extinguishes the pleasure which has been igniting my nerve endings. I freeze beneath Andre. I can’t help it. I think of hands tearing at my clothes, ripping them away to get a hold of the tender flesh beneath. I remember the dull pain of a knife-point pricking at my belly as clumsy hairy-knuckled hands fumble at a recalcitrant belt buckle. Never mind that the here and now is all warmth, all pleasure and alcohol glow. I begin to shiver. My legs try to snap together, but Andre shifts position, no longer sitting on the edge of a cushion but moving so that he’s kneeling over me with his knees planted between my thighs.



“What’s the matter?” He murmurs, hands still caressing my breasts. He kisses me again, but my lips won’t open for him. His hands stop moving. He looks at me more closely. “Are you ok?”



“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m being stupid. I’m not ready for this. I shouldn’t be here.” I try to get up, but he pushes me back down, gently, but I can’t refuse.



“But I thought we were–” He pauses, “Connecting. Have I done something to scare you?”



“No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’ll go.” Again, I try to get up, but he’s still above me, still



looking down at me with questions in his dangerous eyes.



“I won’t stop you,” he says and moves to get up.



“I’m sorry if I did something to offend you.”



I watch him begin to draw away. This is the closest I’ve come and I’m ready to throw it away because of memories. I can’t let this happen. I breathe. “Wait,” I say, settling back into the cushions. “I’m sorry. I want to stay. It’s just—I have—there’s probably something I should tell you.”



Andre perches once more on the edge of a cushion, looking down at me. “You don’t have a dick tucked into those panties do you?” he asks, trying to joke, but his eyes are serious, watchful. This is the last thing I want to be doing, talking about this, but he should know. He should know why I’m so goddamned afraid of something that should be so simple.



“I’ve never done this before,”



A very long pause, and then he says, “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”



“Two years ago, when I was eighteen, someone tried to rape me. He came out of nowhere. I was walking home one night and he pushed me into an alley. Held a knife on me. Someone must have heard me scream before he put his hand over my mouth and called the cops. They pulled him off of me before he could…you know, do it to me, but he did…other things. I haven’t been able to get close to anyone since then.” My voice wobbles a little on the last word and I snap my mouth shut. He looks at me without expression and I feel myself shriveling up inside. He’s going to tell me that he’s changed his mind. No one wants damaged goods. I should have just left.

If my wife hadn’t taken that nighttime cold medicine and fallen asleep early, I never would have hooked up with Joanne. I wasn’t ready to go to bed, there was nothing good on television, and it was obvious that sex with my wife was not an option, so I went on the computer and logged onto one of the social networking sites. What impulse was it that made me type in the name “Joanne Tate,” a former girlfriend I hadn’t seen in—could it actually have been thirty years? There turned out to be a huge number of women with that name. I stopped counting at around fifty and concentrated on the profile pics. And with a few clicks, there she was: Joanne Tate, her hair now blonde, face quite a bit fuller and more mature but still beautiful, a few laugh lines around her mouth but no other wrinkles to speak of.



It was her eyes in that photo that wiped away three decades and drew me in. I had gazed into those same deep brown eyes at the Sugar Shack Lounge, that smoky, crowded boîte de nuit in Carbondale. Yes, it had been an out-of-the-way strip club where I had first met Joanne.



Newly divorced at twenty-nine, and with jobs hard to find, Joanne had resorted to stripping in order to cover her college tuition and make the payments on her Chevy Monza. She was a lovely, lithe brunette. I had seen her completely nude many times before either of us said a word to one another. She liked dancing to funky, unusual music off the jukebox. Dr. Hook’s You Make My Pants Wanna Get up and Dance was her opening number of her first set. There was a double beat in the bass line before the refrain. Joanne always exposed her breasts one at a time to that one, two beat before she tossed away her top for the rest of the evening.



Night after night I made sure to arrive before seven PM when the dancers took to the stage, and grabbed the table front row center every time so I could be close to the action. The local ordinance permitted topless dancing but no nude dancing. Joanne didn’t care. After midnight her bottoms came off, too, favoring all the men in the club with a full view of her dark hairy bush. For the next two hours she strutted around as though clothes had never been invented, proud of her body. And there was a special trick Joanne could do if the tips were flowing and the crowd was begging for it: she could squat and pick up a longneck beer bottle no-hands. And that’s with the bottle full and the cap still on. She could accommodate a forty-ounce tallboy the same way if the money was flying and the crowd cheering.



Other customers would tip Joanne, buy her a drink and ask her to sit at their tables with her top off. Joanne had no problem managing easy conversation while the men stared openmouthed at her bare breasts. As for me, I never had the nerve. Until early one evening at a local supermarket I spotted Joanne standing at a magazine rack. Her back was to me and she was wearing a sequined little black number that showed off her thighs and made men want more.



“We’ll have to stop meeting like this,” I said nervously, sidling up next to her and looking over her shoulder. She was glancing at a Cosmo article, something about thirteen new ways to bring your man to exploding climax.



“Oh, hi. It’s you,” she said, seeming a bit flustered herself, slamming the magazine shut.



“You look fantastic this evening, Joanne,” I said, adding, “If that’s really your name.”



She looked at me as though insulted that I would suspect her of using a stage name. But then she smiled, confidently extended her hand and introduced herself as, “Joanne Tate from Vandalia, Illinois. Former Vandalette, current dancing girl and occasional nude model for the art department. Delighted to meet you.”



“I’m Jeremy. Jeremy Wilcoxen,” I said. “Pleasure to meet you at last, Joanne. Other than when you’re working, I mean.”



She said, “Actually I have to be at work in an hour. See you there?”



“Count on it.”



She replaced the magazine in the rack and said, “This time, don’t be a stranger, okay, Jeremy? We’ll have time to talk between sets. I’d love to know more about you.”



I was at my customary table by six-thirty PM. Joanne and I talked and talked between her sets. While we talked, I gazed into those eyes of hers and dreamed of kissing her. Every hour or so it was time for Joanne to get up onstage and perform. We never broke eye contact then either, not even when she was penetrating her prehensile vagina with a twelve-once beer bottle, then standing, hands on hips, with it still protruding from her pussy to the raucous shouts and applause of all the men in the room.



I had hoped for a goodnight kiss; I received much, much more. Joanne told me late in the evening that the water pump in her Monza had gone out and although a girlfriend had given her a ride to the club, two AM was too late to call for a ride. She asked me if I would mind chauffeuring her home because taxis were hard to find at this hour. I readily agreed.



It was a thrill just having Joanne riding shotgun in my Trans Am. It turned out that she lived in a modest efficiency apartment building mainly for students. When she asked me in for a nightcap, how could I say no?



She brought two crème de cacaos, then asked, “Mind if I slip into something more comfortable?”



“Please do.”



Joanne popped into the bathroom and emerged wearing a filmy lavender peignoir that left nothing to the imagination. All I could gasp was, “Beautiful!”



“Nothing you haven’t seen before, many times. Monday through Friday, week after week. I don’t know whether to be flattered or scared of you.”



“Then feel flattered. I’m nobody to be scared of, unless you’re afraid to be kissed.”



Joanne sat on the loveseat next to me, moved close enough so that her hair brushed up against my cheek, and said, “I’d rather be made love to. If you’re in the mood, that is.”



Her unmade bed was close by. I swooped her up and carried her there. She seemed lighter than air. I lay her down on the bed, stroked her thighs, drew her legs apart and crawled between them, eagerly approaching her pussy and anxious to bestow oral sex on a woman, my first time. Giggling with excitement she said, “Maybe I’d better freshen up first. After all, I’ve been dancing all night.”



“Don’t bother,” I said hoarsely.



“You sure, Jeremy? Just a once-over with a wet washcloth? Won’t take a sec.”



Instead of answering I slipped off her panties and buried my tongue between her generous pussy lips. She shuddered and squealed, I hoped with pleasure. I was barely twenty-one and had never eaten a woman’s pussy before. Although I’d seen it done plenty of times in porn movies, the real thing was even better. I loved the sea taste of her, the low-down scent that was undeniably woman in all her sexual glory. I loved knowing that she knew I was delighting in the honest funk of her as I licked and licked, savoring her intensifying response. She near-climaxed with a scream when I found her slickened clit and focused my tongue-pressure on it for many minutes. I reached upward and played with her nipples, those twin glories I had stared at for months, now at the mercy of my tweaking fingertips. They were already erect but grew even harder with my steady attentions.



Joanne began to groan, rhythmically louder and louder as I lapped away at her. All at once she uttered a high-pitched sustained sound that was almost a whistle. Her legs clamped around my neck, heels kicked against my lower back as she arched hers. Finally she went limp, panting and laughing.



“Ooh, you’re good, Jeremy! You’re so good! Omigod, you made me cum like a bitch in heat! That’s the first time anybody’s gotten me off in months, I swear!”



I stood up on my knees in bed and said, “Glad you enjoyed it.”



“I’m going to chain you up and make you do this every night, Jeremy,” she said.



“No chain necessary.” For the next semester until I left school it became a regular thing between us. As soon as she was through at the club I would drive her to her place, she would undress and I would eat her pussy until she came, sometimes multiple times, seven being our record. You’re probably wondering why she never reciprocated or why we never shared intercourse. It was because of something Joanne had shared with me later that first night. Lustful as a puppy, I had begged her to fellate me or for us to have straight missionary sex. She declined, saying, “I’m a Catholic, Jeremy.”



“So?”



“That means in the eyes of the Church I’m actually still married to Phil, even though our divorce is legal and final. That means it’d be a sin for us to fuck or for me to suck your dick, any of that.”



“What about what we did tonight?”



She sighed and said, “I guess I have to believe that God forgives me for any pleasure I can’t resist. I tell myself that cunnilingus isn’t really sex because there’s no real penetration.”



“Penetration? You penetrate yourself with beer bottles and cans at the club.”



“That’s different. I don’t do that to gratify myself, only for tips. Although, to tell you the truth, a time or two I came close. I never actually came at the club, though. I’m not ready to let my guard down enough to cum in front of a crowd of strange men. No offense.”



“What if you just gave me a blow job?”



“Don’t you see, Jeremy? That would be penetration.”



“Hand job, then? I’m really hurting, Joanne.”



She pursed her lips and looked at me, considering. At last she said, “I suppose a hand job’s not really penetration, either. Here, lie down while I get some lotion.”



“You won’t be needing any, Joanne,” I said. I lay back on her bed while she undid my pants and my hard cock sprang to attention.



“My, you are hurting,” she marveled. “Big nice size one, too.” She spit into her right hand for lubrication and started in. Soon she had interlaced her fingers and was milking me two-handed.



“Kiss the tip, Joanne, just kiss it with your lips closed,” I begged her. She smiled coquettishly, then kissed the engorged tip of my cock, her lips lingering there. Suddenly the urgency to cum was upon me; there wasn’t even a moment to warn her. I ejaculated all over Joanne’s face and in her hair, my store of cum decorating her like silly string. She didn’t flinch, in fact seemed to enjoy having hot semen all over her face.



“Did you like that as much as I did?” she whispered, blinking cum out of one eye and sweeping it away with a fingertip.



“Oh, Joanne, you were magnificent! Let me look at you like that.”



“What, with your cum all over my face? Is that what you like, Jeremy?” But she posed for me, a sly smile on her face as she let me look.



That was thirty years ago. Cut to the chase: Joanne was online that night. I was astonished to discover that she was living less than twenty miles away, never remarried. We chatted for hours, then made a coffee date the next afternoon at the local mall.



I had to catch my breath as I entered the food court. I had told my wife I needed to do some last-minute Christmas shopping. I had parked as close as I could, but with the Christmas traffic it had been a long walk. Scanning the crowd seated at the tables in the food court, at first I thought that maybe Joanne had changed her mind about our meeting. But then my eyes focused on a stately mature blonde woman seated alone and waving to me.



It was her. She had gained at least sixty pounds but was still a beautiful, now mature woman. I have always appreciated zaftig figures on older women because I have always been a fan of huge breasts. Joanne’s did not disappoint. She wore a red Christmas sweater that showed off her abundant bosom. Her face crinkled a bit when she smiled, but all in all she was a strikingly beautiful woman, even though we were both close to sixty.



I walked quickly over to her table, leaned down and kissed her. She moaned with pleasure. When our lips parted—I never wanted them too, ever—she said, “Been a long time, Jeremy. You look well. You always were a handsome man.”



“Flattery will get you everywhere. So how’ve you been, Joanne?”



“You want to know the truth? Lonely. I was so glad to hear from you. You know Phil died last year.”



“No, I didn’t.”



She seemed to look past me, waiting to speak. At last she said under her breath, “Remember what I used to say when we were together? Foolish of me as it was.”



I knew instantly what she meant, but hesitated to articulate it. “You mean how your Church felt about intimacy after divorce?”



“Exactly, and diplomatically put. What a fool I was to wait all these years.” She strategically placed packages and shopping bags on chairs to either side of me, then reached under the café table. To my amazement she began fondling my cock.



“Are you… faithful to your wife, Jeremy?”



“More or less.”



“How about being less faithful this afternoon, then. For auld lang syne.”



“What did you have in mind, Joanne?”



“I want to take you home, suck your cock and let you fuck me. That’s what I have in mind. It’s what I’ve had in mind for the past thirty years.”



What would you have done? We both were naked before we reached the bedroom of Joanne’s tiny suburban bungalow. Her pussy tasted exactly the same. She made the same sound when she came. Her breasts were larger but just as sensitive. And fucking her was the experience of a lifetime. I rode her like a mare. It seemed my cock stayed hard forever, probing her, sliding in and out of the deep recesses of her.



“Are you close, Jeremy?” she gasped.



“Almost ready to cum.”



“I want you to cum on my face. Cum all over my face and in my mouth. I want to swallow your cum.”



I pulled out and positioned my cock directly over her face where she lay on the pillow. The orgasm I felt was dizzying. I aimed the head of my cock at her extended tongue an inch away from her lips. She sucked on it one time and I felt myself go.



“I’m cumming, Joanne,” I yelled. “I’m cumming!”



Joanne greedily took almost all my cum in her open mouth except for a stray dollop on her chin which she scooped up with an index finger and sucked into her mouth. The she opened her mouth wide, displaying the quantity of cum in her mouth.



And swallowed. I heard her gulp, saw her expression as she watched for my reaction. She grinned lewdly and said, “All gone!”



And that’s why I love Facebook.

Part 1



Even now that night was so vivid in my mind, every touch, every scent, every groan, and every orgasm. I could still remember the feel of his hair beneath her fingertips. I can easily recall how his stomach tightened up quickly at the first bold touch of her mouth to his hungry cock. This memory had fueled so many of my fantasies over the past few weeks that I had that night permanently imprinted to my brain.


*****

I was sitting in history class listening to another lecture on world war two when I spotted a speck of blue out of the corner of my eye. It was Rachel. Her skirt was riding up exposing her soft blue panties. I stared at her imagining the things I want to do to her. She is 5′ 7″ with dark brown hair and olive skin. She is shapely and had beautiful curves.



After about five to ten minutes of fantasizing about this lovely girl sitting next to me the teacher slams his book on his desk and yells at me. I look up at him and he starts rambling on about the importance of history. Even though I have an A in this class he still seems to think I’m some kind of a moron. I nod along and let him finish, still thinking about Rachel. I look over at her and she is smiling mischievously.



After the teacher sits back down and starts to type away at his computer I turn to her and ask “What are you smiling at?”



She replies “I know what you were thinking about and I’d like to make some of those fantasies come true one day.”



“Then what was I thinking about Mrs. Rachel?”



“Me.”



I give her a look up and down and smirk. “That blue looks good on you.”



She gives me a puzzled look. “I’m wearing a white blouse and a tan mini. What blue?”



“Underneath the mini Rache.”



She smiles and puts her hand on her thigh and moves it slowly up her leg exposing more of her panties. She glances nervously around hoping no one else is paying attention. Most of the people are sleeping or carrying on conversations to. So she decides to move her hand inward slowly caressing her thigh. She bites her lip and stares deeply into my eyes.



She closes her eyes and moves her hand under her panties. But she is cut short by the bell. She sighs, gets up and retrieves her book. She walks out into the hall and waits for me to gather my books up. As I walk into the hall she slams me against the wall and starts aggressively kissing me. I move my hand to the small of her back and pull her closer.



I whisper “Meet me after school here.” Just as one of her friend walks around the corner. We pull away from each other and stand there in awkward silence as her friend walks by. She nods at me silently then moves her blouse around and walks off, looking back at me many times.



The rest of the day after that was hell. I sat in class thinking of her all day. I was half tempted to go and tie one off in the stall when I was called down to the office over the intercom. I got up and walked out of the class. Deciding to stop in the bathroom anyway before I had to get to the office I walked down a small hall into the men’s bathroom.



I did my usual business at an end urinal and washed my hands. I splashed so much water on my face I was in danger of soaking my shirt. So I dried off and walked out of the bathroom shaking my head trying to get my hair to fall right. I finally get to the office five minutes after they had called me.



Rachel is sitting behind the desk. Her blouse is unbuttoned dangerously low showing off her cleavage. She looks up and smiles at me as I open the glass door. She gets up, walks towards me and grabs my hand. She leads me out of the office and to an empty classroom near the gym.



“We will be safe here. They only use this classroom for storage.” The room looks like any other classroom in the school with about thirty desks and a large wooden teacher’s desk. Rachel pushes me onto the teacher’s desk and gets on top of me her legs straddling me. We start passionately kissing her tongue moving into my mouth.



I pull away and start unbuttoning her blouse. “You really couldn’t wait could you?”



She shakes her head and takes off my shirt. She bites down hard on my shoulder drawing some blood. I gasp in ecstasy. She licks the wound and starts kissing me again. The sweet taste of my blood in her mouth turns me on even more, so I flip her over onto her back and start taking off her mini-skirt. Now she is laying on the desk in nothing but her blue panties and bra. I start kissing her up and down her body. She takes off bra, her breasts becoming exposed to the chill air.



Slowly she takes her panties off. She is neatly shaved and giggles as I stare at her. I lean down and start working with my tongue and fingers. She begins to moan but stifles it with her skirt. I continue savoring every second of it. I think I’m enjoying it more than she is. I look up at her and bite my lip, at that exact second I move my fingers over her clit. She arches her back and her body rocks with her first orgasm. I move my fingers in gentle circles around her clit and she stifles off some screams.



Leaning back I watch her as she lays on the desk breathing extremely heavy, her whole body drenched in sweat. I reach up and kiss her deeply. I move my hand between her legs and start massaging her clit again. Still kissing her, I start rapidly moving my hand back and forth. She pulls away from be and she grasps the desk moaning loudly.



I look over at the door and I see a shadow from behind the white blinds. We both scramble to get our clothes on and hide in the closet. Cramming into the closet we hold our breath waiting for who ever is out there to leave. We hear some shuffling and coming being put down and the door shutting. I open the closet door and look out. There is a box lying in the floor near the door labeled spare books.



“I guess we’ll have to finish this tonight.”

On the way to your place, I was so distracted by my thoughts of what I was going to do to you, I ran a red light. Pulling into the car park at your apartment at around 10 pm, I take the lift to your floor and let myself into your apartment. Having been to you place on more than one occasion, I move down the hallway to your bedroom. Entering your room, I see you lying on the bed, and you are wearing an oversized T-shirt and panties.



I close then lock the door, and remove my shorts and polo shirt, before I move towards the bottom of your bed. I watch you rise up onto your knees, and move down the bed towards me. When you get to the bottom of the bed, you squat back onto your legs, and giving me a sensual sexual smile. You slide your hands down onto the hem and teasingly raise your T-shirt up stopping just short of your nipples; you give me a cheeky smirk and continue raising it over your head.



With your arms raised above your head, I am presented with a view of your hard, erect nipples, and your large breasts. I have never been able to resist the temptation of twisting a nipple, and yours have been pushed out towards me. With the temptation in front of me, I move my fingers onto each nipple, and twist them hard and release. I repeat this twist and release action again and again.



Your body flinches, and you moan as a jolting shock travels through your body with each hard twist.



“Fuck….you bastard! You could have warned me………………..Oh …yes, oh,” you say.



“Serve you right for teasing me,” I reply.



Moving your hands onto the waistband of my boxers, you lower them over my hard shaft, my seven inch cock. Once free of my erection, they fall to the floor. With that sexy smirk returning to your face, you look into my eyes, as you reach out with your right hand, and grab my steel hard cock. With your fingers, you spread the pre-cum, rolling it with your moist fingers around and behind the head of my cock, maintaining eye contact as you look for a reaction.



“Fuck, you do that well baby,” I say through moans.



Positioning myself against the base of the bed, you break away from the grip my fingers have around your nipples. Stretching out, and lying on your stomach, you move your hands along my shaft, and onto my balls. You move the fingers of your left hand around my balls first fondling one then the other, flicking your tongue at the head of my cock. As you slide the fingers of your right hand down around the shaft of my cock, you replace it with your tongue.



Swirling your tongue around the tip of my cock, you drag it through the eye, moaning as you taste the seeping pre–cum. You then move your mouth further back over the helmet of my cock, rolling your tongue over the sensitive nerves behind the head. You are looking up at me, as you fondle my balls, stroke my shaft and suck my cock watching the pleasured expression on my face.



Looking down, I see the lusty look in your eyes and that cheeky smirk on your face. You are having way too much of a good time so, I roll you over onto your back. I then grip you under your arm pits, and pull your body towards me, until your head rests over the end of the bed. You smile up at me knowing why I have put you in this position.



I move my body into a position with a leg either side of your head. Then leaning forward, I grip a tit in each hand, and squeeze them hard, causing you to moan against my cock. As your reaction to me squeezing your tits intensifies, I move my fingers up around your erect nipples. With you taking more and more of my cock into your mouth, I move my fingers onto the tips of each nipple, and then grip them tightly.



As your nipples are squeezed, you suck my cock deep into your mouth several times. You move my cock out of your mouth, then suck and lick along the full length of my shaft. Moving off my shaft and down onto my balls, you take the right ball into your mouth. Sucking it hard and rolling your tongue around it, before you hold it and hum, knowing the vibrations will arouse me.



As I moan out loudly, you let my right ball slip out of your mouth, and then you suck the left ball in. Once again you roll it around your tongue and holding it tight against the roof of your mouth as you hum, sending arousing vibrations through it. I respond to your teasing, by twisting your nipples harder and holding the twist until your moans break the humming against my ball.



With the hard twisting of your nipples, you move your tongue from my balls and suck onto it harder. I repeat my hard twisting and release of your nipples time after time, hoping to break your suction, as it is driving me crazy. Your body jerks sharply in reaction to each hard twist, and you moan against my balls as you suck harder.



Hearing my deep moans, you slide several fingers up and down the crack of my ass. Each pass over my sensitive rose bud, causes my body to tense and shudder. You are encouraged by my reaction and are enjoying my arousing response and the control you have over me. I twist your nipples harder, shocking you back into reality, as your body jerks in response to each hard twist.



Breaking away from your sucking and licking of my balls, you suck and slide your saliva covered lips up along the shaft of my cock. Reaching the head, you roll your tongue around the head and through the eye, before taking my cock into your mouth. Sliding your hands around onto the cheeks of my ass, you grip them, and guide my thrusting hips. My cock is driven into and out of your mouth as you attempt to take my monster cock into your throat.



With your head bent over the end of the bed, your throat straightens allowing you to take my cock up into your throat without gagging. You feel my cock enter your throat, as I thrust my hips forward driving further and further into your throat with every thrust. Gripping my hips tighter to steady my thrust, you guide the pace of entry of my cock down your throat. With your swallowing and moaning around my cock, I continue my hard twisting and easing on both of your nipples.



As your body is beginning to tense, with the continual twisting of your nipples, you are involuntary thrusting your hips up off the bed. Having worked my cock into your mouth, and down your throat, my balls hit your nose with every thrust. The thrusting of your hips indicating to me that your pussy needs attention, and I move the fingers of my right hand away from your left nipple, down onto your stomach.



I swirl the tips of my fingers into and around your sensitive belly button, as I pass on my way down towards your lower stomach. Reaching the sensitive skin of your lower stomach, I swirl the tips of my fingers back and forth, from one side to the other, moving lower with each pass. As the nerve endings of your sensitive skin become aroused, you body becomes alive, you arch your back up off the bed. My fingers finally move onto the highly sensitive skin above your mound with arousing action, before moving down over it and onto your swollen pussy lips.



Moving my fingers together, I slide them down into the wet pink flesh of your slit of your inner pussy lips. Lubricating my fingers with your juices, I move them around and over your clit, thrusting the hood back and forth over the sensitive tip. Leaning forward over your body, I remove the fingers of my left hand off your right nipple, after giving it one last long hard twist. Positioning my leg either side of your head, I bend forward, kissing and sucking my way down over your lower stomach, and then down onto your swollen pussy lips.



Spreading your pussy lips wide with the fingers of my left hand, I swirl my curled tongue into and out of your hole. As your pussy tightens, I drive my tongue in and out of you, like a mini cock thrusting into you over and over again as you close your thighs against my face. You are thrusting your hips up onto my mouth, as I maintain the rubbing of my fingers against your clit. Your climax has reached breaking point, and is hanging there waiting for release.



My balls fill with sperm and lift in their sacks, as you moan and swallow, your throat tightens around my swollen and sensitizes my cock to breaking point. Thrusting into your throat the vibrations of your moaning triggers my orgasm, shooting jet after jet of hot cum straight down your throat. Swallowing hard against my cock, your grip on my ass holds my cock, deep down your throat, as you devour shot after shot of my hot cum. I release quicker than you can swallow and the excess floods your mouth and some cum escapes the confines of your lips, and runs down your chin.



The flood of hot cum down your throat triggers your orgasm. Waves of orgasmic pleasure surge through you, and my tongue and mouth are flooded with a flow of hot sweet sticky cum. After releasing your clit, I move both thumbs onto your pussy lips spreading them wider. Swirling my tongue in through your entrance, I drag out all the golden nectar of your orgasm.



As the last of my seeds shoots down your throat, I draw my cock back into your mouth, and then you suck and swallow the remnants of my cum off my cock. Shrinking to a semi, you grip my shaft in your hands and swirl your tongue through the eye and around the head thoroughly cleaning me. We lay there for what seems like hours but it was more like minutes, as you sucked and stroked my cock back to life.



With the revival of my deflated cock, I roll off you. Being free of my weight you move up the bed and grip my hair, you pull me in for a deep passionate kiss. With the amorous swirling of our tongues anxious to share their combined taste, that are mixing within our mouths. With passion and our desire again building, I move away from you and off the bed.



Walking to the end of the bed, I reach out, grabbing your legs, I pull you closer to me, so that your legs fall over the side and your ass is on the very edge of the bed. Spreading your legs, I hold your knees up against your chest, and rub my erect cock up and down the wet pink flesh of your open slit. You look up at me, as I stand between your legs rubbing my cock back and forth over your aroused clit.



I move my cock to the entrance of your pussy and as I lean forward against your legs your hips tilt upwards exposing you g-spot. Thrusting my hips into you hard and fast, my cock slams into your G-spot. You scream, and move your hands onto your tits, gripping and tearing at your nipples, as I thrust into you again and again. My cock hits your G-spot and sends waves of pulsating pleasure through your body that builds your pending orgasm to new highs.



“OH! Fuck …Fuck don’t stop, keep going just like that,” you yell in between deep moans and muted screams.



“Fuck baby you are getting tight, that’s it, grip my cock hard” I yell back as I tighten my hold on your hips.



Lifting your ass a little higher, I thrust into you harder and more ferociously. I grit my teeth and drive my cock with an intense rhythm that sends wave after wave of pulses throughout your body as I hit your G-spot. Your silky smooth inner pussy muscles have turned into tense and taut muscles, wrapping around my cock like a vice. My cock swells at the torturous tension building within you.



With my thick hard swollen cock now diving into you hard and fast, you scream, and toss your head from side to side. I grip my teeth and power into you with all the energy; I can muster, as I feel my seeds move along my shaft. Gritting my teeth tighter, and sucking in a deep breath, I thrust up into you and shoot shot after shot of hot baby seeds deep inside you.



Your body tenses, and you start shaking, as my hot seeds hit the back walls inside your womb. With the relentless, hard, fast and deep driving of my swollen cock, you are delirious as you wonder when it will end. As you grip the bed sheets hard to generate a powerful thrust, your orgasm explodes. Your orgasm rolls from one to the other as orgasmic pleasure cascades and travels through your body.



You are shaking like crazy, and your pussy goes into spasm after spasm, contracting around my cock, as you flood it with hot sticky cum. As your orgasms continue your body goes rigid, and my cock is squeezed hard by your inner muscles. I inject hot streams of hot creamy cum with shot after shot up inside you, as I drive into your extremely tight pussy with every muscle in my body firing to provide the thrust.



“Fuck baby this is the tightest pussy I have ever fucked,” I scream out as I thrust deep into you.



The last of my seeds are moving along my shaft, and I grip your hips hard and grunt loudly.



“Fuck baby take it all. Yes! Suck my cock dry,” I yell as I fire off the last of my seeds.



I hold myself tight inside you, as my cock twitches time after time as your contracting inner pussy muscles milk every last seed out of me. Your body is still shaking, as I resume my hard fast thrusting into you. I continue to drive my cock deep up into you, as the aftershocks of your orgasm ease, and my cock shrinks to a semi. I move your legs off my chest and lean forward and kiss your face and lips until you regain your breath.



With your breathing returning to normal we engage in deep passionate kisses and swirling tongues, melding our souls together. After many minutes I break our kiss.



“That was the best fuck, I have ever had, you are fucking amazing baby,” “Fucking amazing.” I say to you.

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