I had always dreamed of the things that could happen in the
company men’s room but today the dreams were going to be more
real than I could ever imagine.

As I walked through the door I could hear a slight moaning sound
coming from the oversized handi-capped stall at the end. At
first I thought it must have been someone who had a worse weekend
than I had. I walked over to use the urinal and after unzipping
my fly and grasping hold of my rod, it happened. Something in my
mind told me that the sound I had heard wasn’t a painful moaning
but a moaning that comes from shear erotic pleasure. Just then,
I heard it again. This time it was even more distinct than the
first time. Again it happened. By now I was more curious than a
weasel outside a chicken coop. I just had to investigate.

I awoke again at noon, wide-eyed and hungry! So, I called to have pizza
delivered at my apartment. Twenty minutes or so passed. I freshened up, took a
hot bath, and curled my hair. Needless to say, I was still quite hot and wet
from the morning’s adventure, so while in the bathtub, I let the water from the
faucet hit my clit and came a couple more times. I had just put on my robe,
when I heard the knock at the door. I had forgotton that I had JUST my robe on,
hunger pains taking over, and answered the door. There stood a gorgeous boy,
not more than 20, with a gaping mouth and a small sausage pizza in his hand. He
was tall, blonde, and thin, and from the look of his newly tightened jeans, I
could tell he liked what he saw! I, of course, had my own ideas. I invited him
in and told him I’d be right back with the money. I went into the bedroom and
got 10 bucks and slightly undid my robe so that my tits were exposed. I came
back into the living room and I watched as he nervously licked his lips. His
eyes were fixed upon my big breasts, and he set the pizza on the table. Now for
the good stuff, I thought, as I stuffed the 10 secudively into his jeans. I
asked him his name and he called himself Jamie. “Well, Jamie,” I said “would
you like to have some fun?” All he could do was nod, for I had already started
unbuttoning his too-tight jeans, and found his cock wasn’t bad in size at all!
My lips wrapped around his penis eagerly, and he moaned loudly in pleasure.

You are lying on your couch, fully clothed. I kneel on the
floor next to you, one arm stretched across your stomach, my
eyes watching every detail of your face as we talk. I absently
move my arm and hand across your chest, enjoying the feel of
your muscles through the thin fabric of your shirt. I
slowly grow quiet as I listen to your voice and feel its
vibrations through your chest. My eyelids droop, and my eyes
begin to wander to other parts of your body. They travel
across your shoulder and down your arm. My fingers,
of their own volition, follow the path of my eyes to your
palm, which they gently raise to my mouth. I place your
hand on my face and hold it there, moving my head to feel
your palm, your fingers, travel across my face. I slowly,
reluctantly, relinquish your hand as I rise to stand
before you. As you watch, I slowly unbutton my shirt,
opening it only enough for you to catch a small glimpse of
the breasts hidden beneath. When the last button is undone,
my hands travel back up between my breasts, then across to
the outside in a swirling motion before pressing them firmly
together and up. My head falls back and my eyes close
momentarily, as I enjoy the feeling and the thought of your
gaze. After a few seconds I reach for the clasp of my bra
in the opening of my shirt. After releasing it, I slowly
slide my shirt and bra off of first one shoulder, then the
other, before lowering my arms and arching my back to allow
gravity to finish the task. My hands then slide back up
my torso to my breasts, which they massage slowly. Your
hand reaches to touch, but I catch it and kiss the palm before
pressing it to my breast. Before you have a chance to take
advantage of it, I place your hand firmly back on the couch
next to you.

As I watch your eyes on my body, my hands make their way to
my waistline, where they unbutton and slowly unzip my pants.
You catch a glimpse of black lace underwear before my hands
slide down my torso and under both pants and panties, forcing
them slowly over my hips and down my thighs. As I step out
of them, one hand travels back to massage a breast while the
other slides slowly up my thigh and across my pubic area before
pausing with my palm on my stomach. After the slightest pause
my fingers travel back down and between my legs to feel the
wetness there. After moistening my finger in my juices,
I reach down and sensuously brush it across your bottom lip.
Your mouth opens slightly with desire as you smell the musky
scent.

I glance down and notice you are having a hard time lying
still. Your hands move across your body and your hips move
involuntarily. The movement of your hips draws my gaze to
the great bulge in your pants, and I slide my hand down
across it, and between your legs. I lower my face to your
stomach, lifting your shirt slightly to expose a small
amount of bare skin just above your pants line. I bury my
face in your stomach, first kissing and licking, then rubbing
my face across your skin, enjoying the tickle of the hairs
peeking out of your pants. I slowly unbutton and unzip your
pants, releasing your pulsing cock only slightly because of
the briefs you wear beneath. As I push your pants aside,
I very gently nip along your cock, starting at the head and
working my way down to the base. Your hips move more
violently at this, pushing up off the couch to press your
cock firmly to my face. You groan with pleasure and I raise
my head to gaze at you, your head thrown back, your eyes
closed, your mouth open slightly. I pull the waistband of
your briefs down enough to expose just the tip of your swollen
cock, and I flick my tongue across it, lapping up the precum
that oozes out. I slide my hands down your hips and around,
under your pants. I pause to squeeze your buttocks before
continuing the downward movement that brings your pants and
briefs down to your thighs. As your cock springs free of its
confinement, it rivets my attention. I reach up to gather
your balls in my hand, and massage them gently before sliding
one finger firmly up your dick. It is followed by my palm,
which applies gentle but firm pressure before returning to
finish the job of removing your pants. I quickly slide your
pants down and off, enjoying the feel as my hands slide down
your bare skin.

I lick and suck the toes of one foot before slowly laying a
trail of kisses and small bites up the inside of your leg.
When I reach your balls I roll them around with my tongue,
licking them and sucking them as I inhale your smell. I
slide my tongue up the bottom side of your dick, applying
firm pressure until I reach the head, where I switch to very
light, quick, flicks. I slide my mouth over just the head
and suck gently while swirling and flicking my tongue all
around it. As your hips buck, I begin moving my head in a
stroking motion, taking your dick further into my mouth with
each stroke. I bring up one hand to massage your balls as
my mouth and tongue work on your cock. I feel your tension
mounting and suck hungrily in anticipation of your cum.
When you come I am ready, and I swallow quickly and continue
milking every last drop out of you until you are reduced to
a quivering mass, groaning with pleasure. Your cock begins
to shrink and I continue licking it very gently until you
beg me to stop. I softly kiss the very tip, then slide
my body up to press my lips to yours. Our tongues join and
you taste the faint salty flavor of your cum.

You are completely enervated, and I lie next to you, watching
your breathing slow, feeling your body relax. When I know
you have fallen asleep, I lower my head to your shoulder
and fall asleep with you.

You opened the door wearing a bulky sweater made of angora
red skirt and no shoes..you had just gooten home from work
a few minutes earlier.
“Hi!” I said entering the door..”you sure look beat”
“come here..let me relax you!”
with that i took your hand and led you to the bderoom.

“Stand here” i asked and slowly started to undress you.
i removed the sweater slowly..my hands running genlty
under neath it…up to your bra…stopping there for a minute..
must move up now as your nipples ar starting to harden..
“lift your arms please kitten” i breathed into your ear..
making the goose flesh stand up..

I slowly removed your bra..running my nails gently over your breats
and nipples feeling them harden with desire…you turned your head
to kiss me…your mouth open, inviting..tongue moist…
“slow down kitten….wait.” i breathed into your ear again,
just touching the outer edge with my tongue.

i run my hands down your sides to your hips….thumbs hooking
into to the top of your dress and your panties…pulling
them down..down past the moist mound of pubic hair…down
past your pussy lips…i stop to inhale your scent.
“mmmmmmmmmm very sweet..I must taste” my long tongue
flicks out and brushes the hair just above your clit..
“OOOOOOOO” comes out of your mouth…you try and reach for me..
“not yet kitten” i breath out slowly…..”not yet”

i take you by the hand and lay you down on the bed..face down.
“where is that flavoured rubbing oil i bought?” i wonder out aloud.
“Oh here it is..” i open the bottle and pour some onto the base of your
neck, moving your long hair out of the way…

i start to massage..first your neck….then your shoulders
then your arms…then your back…mu palms pressing firmly,
fingers working the skin…now down to the small of your back….
now around your perky ass……down to the thighs….
“open a little kitten” i ask….”thats enough!”
i start on the thighs…then the inner thighs….down to the knees
then the calves….the ankles and the feet…
working on the feet….licking and kissing your toes…first the one
foot then the other…..now starting to work back up….the same way i
worked my way down….stopping only to run my finger nails along the inner
thighs over your pussy and down the other side….doing it a few times.
now back up to your shoulders..

“roll over kitten, time to do the front!”
you roll over, eyes galssy with desire…
” i want you!” you manage to get out between breaths
“not yet lover” I said as i pour more oil at the base of your neck.
“wait I’m not done yet!” i say with a wide grin andi run my tongue over my lips…..making them moister..”mmm i can still taste you on my lips”

i start to massage your neck…then your shoulders then your breasts
which seem to leap out at me….wanting me to knead them..playwith them
your nipples are pointing straight out like an accusing finger…just asking to be chewed on…sucked on…and ofcourse i must oblige…..

your are now purring like a pride of lions……
you reach for me again….”not yet kitten” i say “not yet”
my well oiled hands or now massaging your breasts and nipples…
now the underside…..down to you tummy….hips…….pubic mound..
the inner thighs…i lean forward to give your clit a massage with my
tongue..” when i give you a full massage kitten” i say to you between licks
“i give a full massage”
you are purring even louder now…..i hope the neighbours dont hear!
i stop and continue massaging down your legs…down to your toes..
i cam smell you very strongly now…you are dripping….
“please eat me” you yell “tongue fuck me NOW”
“not yet kitten” i say very very pleased with myself

i hold your hands and lift you up, and lead you to the shower.
nice and hot!!! and i use the big sponge that i bought..
lots and lots of suds…and bubbles…

soaping you all over…….your eyes are glazed with deisre..
good just what i wanted and you grab me and kiss me very very
deeply…..”let me get undressed first” i mumbled thru your lips

you let go and i grab o towel and put it around you..
we go back into the bedroom….you sit on the bed
and watch me get undressed..your eyes making love to every
part of my flesh as it becomes visible….
your eyes become wide when you see the state of my hardon,
hard as nails….
i remove my pants…
your run your tongue over your lips as you see moisture.

i finsh drying you….i sit on the edge of the bed and tell
you to sit on the floor between my legs with your back to me.
” i must brush your hair dry!” i say as i pick up the brush
and start to brush your hair…but you look at me with a little
sparkle in your eye and i am not sure what it means…but i’m sure
i will find out soon enough..

you feel your hair and it is almost dry…
you spin around…placing your hands on my hairy chest
and push me flat on the bed…holding me down…
you bend your head…tongue flicking out…and move in what seems
like the kill..
your tongue is all over my hardon….teasing it…rubbing it
now around my testicles….”YESSSSSSSSSSSSS” i scream
“YESSSSSSSSSSSS!”
i do not see your other hand reaching for the brush….
THUMP THUMP right on my ass..”that will teach you!”
you say before you return to work where you left off
and i reach a shuddering orgasim..which you suck
greedily…………

“Come here kitten…its your turn” i can just barely manage
to say.

Allen had always been a good friend of hers, but she had preferred to keep
it at a friendship level. When mutual financial circumstances had made
sharing an apartment seem like a very good idea, she had proclaimed to the
rafters that the ONLY thing they would share would be the bills. Allen had
agreed good-naturedly, as usual. For six months and more, it worked out just
fine. They respected each other’s privacy, always one managing to find
something to do elsewhere when the other brought home a date, etc. They grew
closer, almost like brother and sister. Consummating this relationship almost
seemed like breaking a taboo.
But happy-go-lucky Allen had never noticed the sidelong looks Janet
sometimes snuck at him. At the curves of his well-muscled chest and the bulge
in the tight fitting jeans he sometimes wore. To put it nicely, he was built
like a brick shithouse. And she was sure she had caught him looking at her
the same way more than once, though he always pretended to be looking at
something else instead. But no words were ever said about them, that barrier
never breached.
But now old shit-for-brains was out of her life for good. And she lay in
the darkness empty, lonely, and horny as hell.
She tossed and turned on top of the covers in the stifling heat, clad only
in panties and a long T-shirt. Her mind tossed and turned even more
violently, tormented by her aching need for a man and the maddening closeness
of one. And the fear of disrupting a fine friendship.
The need won. She sat up on and slowly pulled her T-shirt off. Her nipples
were fully erect and incredibly sensitive. The cotton fabric of the T-shirt
felt like sandpaper against them. She got up and pulled her panties off,
which joined the shirt in a pile at the foot of the bed. Completely nude, she
felt curiously free. The warm, stifling air in the room seemed to caress her
sensuously, exciting her all the more. Squaring her shoulders and biting her
lip, she gathered up all her courage and started for the door.
Dear roomie, she thought wryly, you’re in for one hell of a surprise.

She opened the door to Allen’s room slowly, careful of the squeaky hinge
at the bottom. She peered in.
Moonlight spilled across the bed from the open window at the far end of
the room. It was cooler here, but still quite warm. Allen lay on his back, a
sheet rumpled around his hips. He had stopped snoring, his breathing deep and
regular, as he deeply slept.
She crossed the room to his bedside, horrendously aware of her nakedness,
and feeling more than a little foolish. Stop this right now, her rational
mind ordered, go back to bed immediately before you embarass yourself beyond
all recall.
But the itch spoke with a much louder voice.
She knelt by his bed and placed a gentle hand on his arm. Softly she
whispered his name into his ear. No response. Dead to the world, as usual.
Not that she could blame him. He worked in construction, and that was very
hard work indeed.
She ran a hand along his arm, feeling the muscles there. Her gaze traveled
to the sheet. A sudden, mischevious thought occured to her, one that she
wouldn’t have even considered in the rational light of day. She grabbed the
sheet by one corner, and slowly pulled it down.
As she suspected, he wasn’t wearing shorts.
She gazed in silent wonder at his penis, laying to one side in its black,
curly tuft of pubic hair. It was… sizable, as she has always suspected from
the everpresent bulge he sported even when wearing loose pants. Hung, to put
it crudely. Even before she thought of it, she reached out to touch it.
She fondled it gently, feeling its limp weight. Allen remained oblivious,
fortunately. If he awoke right now, he’d explode, she thought. Then she
banished that thought to the back of her mind, where it belonged.
And then all thoughts dissapeared momentarily as his penis began to
stiffen in her hand.
She jerked back and watched in silent amazement as it grew, slowly,
jerkily straightening from its curved position to lay flat and hard against
his belly, pulsing slightly.
Wow, she thought, gazing upon the magnificent sight.
She listened to his breathing for a long moment until she convinced
herself he was still asleep. It was as if her need had somehow affected him
even in his sleep. She had fondled men’s penises before while they slept, but
this was the first time she had suceeded in getting a rise out of one.
Horrible joke, she thought giddly to herself as she reached for it again.
He was hard all right, hard as a rock. Almost absently she ran her thumb
along the smooth, silky shaft and she wondered what it must be like to carry
all of one’s equipment on the outside. With such easy access, no wonder men
were so horny all the time. She was certain she would be.
Allen had a magnificent cock, easily larger and heavier than her old
boyfriend’s. If he denied this to her, she would probably never be able to
sleep again. After all, it was the eighties. It was perfectly all right for
friends to have sex if they wanted to. And oh God, how she wanted to…
A low quiet moan escaped Allen’s lips, startling her out of her reverie.
His hips shifted slightly, then lay to rest again. Every instinct screamed
for her to get out, but she was rooted to the spot. No way could she leave
now. If she wanted any sleep tonight, she would have to finish what she
started. If he woke up, so be it. She was sure he wouldn’t object too
strenuously now. She hoped.
She shifted her grip on his cock lower down and leaned across his hips,
bringing her face closer. She stared at it for a moment and then stuck her
tongue out, touching the tip gently.
She knew from past experience with other men that a teasing touch would
jolt him, and probably awaken him as well. So she swirled her tongue around
the head of his cock, keeping full contact. She heard him moan again and then
sigh. Around and around she swirled her tongue, feeling the roughness on top
of the head, and the smoothness below. She ran it slowly along the smooth
hardness of the shaft, down almost to the base then back you again. She could
feel slight movement beneath her, as his hips began to move up and down in
slow rhythm.
She ran her free hand down her own stomach, to the mass of her pube, and
placed a finger up against the swollen knob of her clitoris, slowly stroking
it. At the same time, she plunged his cock into her mouth as deep as it would
go.
It filled her mouth completely, with a fair portion of its length left to
go. Her other hand cupped his balls, and she could feel them tighten as she
pulled the cock out of her mouth, sucking gently. Again and again she plunged
it in, and now she could feel definite movement beneath her as his hips began
slwoly pumping. She heard his breathing grow rapid, though he was still
wrapped deep within his dreams.
The itch, prodded by her manual stimulation, quickly grew into a tingling
then into a fire. Waves of sheer pleasure radiated from her groin and washed
over all parts of her body. Her nipples were electric, and she had to
suppress a gasp whenever they rubbed against the bed or his body.
His rapid breathing became low moans, and his hips moved more violently as
she suddenly detected a slight salty taste in her mouth. It won’t be long
now, she thought deleriously to herself, giving in to the raw, primal
sensations flooding her body.
His subconcious moans became gasps and she felt his balls clench in her
hand. His hips raised and locked as a long, half-stifled groan escaped him. A
fraction of a second later a huge amount of fluid shot into her mouth, which
she swallowed immediately. At the same time the fire in her crotch roared and
exploded once, twice, three times in a rapid succession that would have left
her gasping for breath had her mouth not already been occupied. She was very
glad she was already kneeling, as all strength had left her legs.
Slowly, Allen’s body relaxed as Janet drew back and leaned against the
bed, shivering almost uncontrollably. She was drenched in sweat. It was very
rarely she came twice like that, and three times was almost unthinkable. Her
whole body tingled and she knew she her muscles would ache tomorrow. Small
price to pay for such an incredible experience.
She looked up, fully expecting Allen to be looking back at her, but to her
total astonishment, the big dummy was still asleep! Her anger was quickly
smother by bubbling laughter, which she quickly stifled. It would be a shame
to wake him now.
His breathing had returned to its previous monotonous regularity, and his
erection was just beginning to fade. She leaned over one last time and gently
kissed it just below the head. Then she pulled the sheet back over his hips
like she found it.
Her legs were still wobbly and it took three tries to stand up. Her heart
jackhammered in her chest and she suddenly felt very, very tired. At the door
she turned and looked back, seeing him still framed in the moonlight.
Goodnight, my love, she said silently, if you’re this good now, what will it
be like when you’re awake?
She almost laughed at this, knowing full well that she had done everything
herself. But next time, though, next time…
Back in her room, she pulled the T-shirt on and collapsed on top of the
bed, exhausted. Contentedly she snuggled into her pillow and fell alseep
almost instantly, dreaming very pleasant dreams indeed.
The itch troubled her no more, though it soon would again.

Early next morning, she padded around the house bleary-eyed in her robe.
Allen emerged from his bedroom just as breakfast was ready, as usual. This
time, though, she felt no irritation about it. He was already dressed, as he
would have to leave for work as soon as he was finished. He seemed even
cheerier than usual, and fell to his breakfast with gusto, asking for seconds
and thirds. Finally he was in danger of being late when he got up from the
table. He grabbed his jacket and kissed her a quick peck on the cheek. Though
hurried, he paused at the open door for a second.
“You know,” he said, seemingly puzzled, “I had the damndest dream last
night.”
Then he pulled the door shut behind him, totally missing the smile she
wore…

“Must be nice to be loaded,” I thought, placing a case of
Cheval Blanc beside the mixed case of Domaine de la
Romanie-Conti and Domaine Meo-Camuzet. $1900 worth of wine in
two cases. It was worth going the extra mile for customers
like these. The 25 minute drive was over in a flash; I’d made
it before and took a few shortcuts to avoid the construction
induced delays on the highway. I enjoyed the smell of freshly
mown hay as I traveled down the country road before turning
into the driveway of this most impressive home. Roger
Fontaine was a former NFL cornerback, a two time pro-bowler
who’d played for the Steelers in 3 superbowls before an
unfortunate injury to his anterior cruciate ligament ended
his career prematurely.

I parked next to a black Ferrari GTO in the spacious
driveway. What a machine, I thought, as I inspected an
automobile that cost more than my condo. Athletes’ salaries
are so insane, I mused.

I went up to the front door and rang the bell. Ferdinand,
the male servant, answered the door with the kind of
arrogance that only servants to the filfthy rich can muster.
“Is Mr. Fontaine in?” “No, sir, he’ll be out for the day. May
I help you?” “I have a delivery for Mr. Fontaine’s cellar;
two cases of wine.” “Oh, yes, the delivery entrance is around
back. I’ll meet you there.” And he turned to leave. I suppose
he wasn’t discourteous, but the cold detachment, the “I can
scarcely be bothered with you” attitude was really quite
grating.

I brought the car around to the rear entrance, and popped
the trunk. Grabbing the Cheval Blanc, I moved towards the door
when a movement in the pool area caught my eye. A gorgeous
woman was getting out of the pool. Must be the wife, I
figured. Ferdinand appeared presently and let me in. I took
the case down the stairs and put in on a large wooden table
in the cellar. I went back and got the other one, and placed
it beside the first. I looked about the cellar for just a
minute. Impressive. Verticals of a number of Bordeaux, some
prime vintages of burgundy, major california varietals.
Better than even my personal cellar, in sheer volume of
impressive wines. If nothing else, Fontaine had exquisite
taste.

As I got back to the top of the stairs, Mrs. Fontaine was
there. She’d put on a cotton wrap, but it really did little
to hide her beauty. I tried not to appear awestruck. “How
much do I owe you?” she inquired. “Nineteen-hundred and
seventy-five dollars,” I answered, almost apologetically.
She didn’t even bat an eye. Ferdinand supplied the checkbook.
“Thank you, Ferdinand. I won’t be needing you anymore today.”
“Very well, Madam. Good day.” And he left.

I couldn’t help but stare at Mrs. Fontaine. Her delicate
and feminine features were most alluring. Long chestnut brown
locks were pulled back in a pony-tail. I was close enough to her
to smell some very expensive perfume. Fortunately it was as
light and delicate as her beauty and not overpowering or
cloyingly sweet. I surreptitiously inhaled deeply, closing my
eyes. Exquisite. I opened my eyes to see her looking at me
with considerable amusement. I blushed deeply and wanted
nothing more than to get the check and disappear. “You like
that?” “Um, yes, it is a most delightful scent.” “It’s called
Jungle Gardenia.” She handed me the check. “Thank you very
much,” I blurted and turned to leave, but her hand touched my
arm and I couldn’t bring myself to move.

“It’s really quite warm out, could I offer you something to
drink?” Meanwhile, her feminine touch on my arm is setting
off deep primordial urges in my loins. “Um, sure,” I breathed
nervously. I thought to myself how utterly unsmooth I was
being. “What would you like? We have all sorts of wine, we
have beer, a full bar– Ferdy’s gone for the day so you’ll
have to fend for yourself. There’s wine in here,” she
drawled, indicating a half-size refrigerator. I chose an
alsatian riesling. “‘Screw?” I asked. “Um, I mean, corkscrew.”
There I go blushing again. “Sure, to both questions.” She had
the corkscrew in her hands. When I went to reach for it, she
pulled it away. She did this twice. Then I put my hand out,
palm up, and she put the corkscrew into it. I opened the
bottle without further ceremony, and filled the two Riedel
crystal glasses she had produced. I savored the bouquet of
the wine, inhaling deeply. I nodded and took a sip. Crisp and
lively and fully dry in the traditional alsatian style. Most
refreshing.

She put her glass down and before I knew it her arms were
around my neck. I was very nervous. Christ, if her husband
showed up I’d be leaving in a plastic sack. “Relax,” she
whispered reassuringly, “he won’t be back today. He’s off to
San Jose on business.” I put my glass down, put my arms
around her waist and asked her what on earth she wanted with
me. Her face clouded and she pouted for a second. “My sex
life is tremendously unsatisfying. I haven’t had a real
orgasm that I didn’t give myself in months, maybe years. My
husband is hung like a horse but he thinks that’s all there
is to sex. Foreplay is minimal when there’s any at all, and
he never, you know, eats me. So I never cum. I have to fake
it to save his ego.” “Wow, that was quite a mouthful. What
makes you so sure I’ll be any better?” She never really
answered. “Just shut up and kiss me you fool.”

Our lips met and it was electrifying. Our bodies melted
together and I ran my hands over her back as we embraced. Her
hungry tongue pushed its way into my mouth and our tongues
swirled together in a timeless oral pas de deux. Our collective
breathing deepened. Finally I broke the kiss. My initial
reservations were rapidly being consumed by the insatiable
fire of lust.

She grabbed her glass and took a sip. “Brilliant choice; I
love it.” She turned and walked away, to my extreme confusion.
She turned back, “Well come on!” I didn’t need to be told
twice! I grabbed the bottle and my glass and followed her. I
walked directly behind her, watching her graceful curves and
movements. She was rather feline, I decided, as I watched her
move. No doubt about it, this was one hot woman.

We went up the stairs to her bedroom. I began to relax and
enjoy myself. Here was a beautiful woman about to exchange
mutual carnal knowledge with me. Life could be worse! She sat
on the edge of the bad. “Um, Mrs…” “Veronique,” she
interrupted. “Oh, Veronique” I said, employing my well
developed french accent and noticing how she crinkled her
nose with enjoyment as she smiled when I said it, “you have
beautiful hair.” I stroked it, decided the ponytail was a
problem, and undid the bow which held it up. Her chestnut
locks cascaded over her shoulders. It was much nicer to touch
this way. I brought her head to my chest as I ran my hands
through her silky hair. She purred contentedly. I put my
glass on the nightstand, touched her face and brought our
lips together.

More electricity. Our mutual lust was spreading, growing in
strength and urgency. We devoured each other’s mouths. Hot,
sweet kisses here and there; tongues probing, tasting,
loving. I opened my eyes and her face was lightly flushed.
“My, but you’re an excellent kisser!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I’m
quite oral,” I laughed. Her eyes danced with anticipation.
Her hands flew to my shirt and deftly undid each button. She
put her hand inside and felt my firm pecs, gliding her hands
through the forest of chest hair and gently tweaking each
nipple in turn and then together. It felt so good. I took
another sip of my wine as she did this, then put the glass to
her lips and tipped it carefully. “Mmmm, that really is good,
isn’t it?” she inquired. I nodded.

I stood her up and removed her cover up. Her nipples poked
through the fabric of her expensive french bikini. I pulled
the top off, and her breasts stood proudly before me.
Perfectly formed, creamy white and firm, they were like
melons ripe for the taking. I caressed them softly, kneading
them gently, urging further nipple arousal. She whimpered
softly. “Your hands,” she whispered. “Tender touches…”
Her nipples were wildly erect now, virtually screaming for
some attention. I leaned over and licked over a nipple with
deliberate slowness. A tiny, feminine gasp escaped her lips.
I did the same to the other one. I stood, and grabbed the
bottle. I lay her on her back, and poured a few dribbles of
riesling over her nipples and breasts. I quickly kissed up
every drop. Her pulse quicked with every kiss and nibble. I
dribbled more. Kisses and licks swabbed up the wine, and the
occasional odd nip kept her off balance. “Oh my God, I can’t
believe how good that feels!” she squealed like a child.

I was getting almost dizzy, between the rush of blood into
my now aching penis and the alcohol in my bloodstream. I
pulled off my pants to release some of the pressure, and
dropped my underwear as well. I was now fully naked, with my
pulsing pole standing at attention. I skillfully hooked my
fingers under her bikini bottom, and slowly pulled it down to
reveal a well trimmed bush. As she spread her legs, I could
see her pink-brown lips were distended and glossy with
arousal. I kissed the top of her mound, and she tried to
bring her clit in contact with my tongue. “All in good time,
Veronique,” I teased. I wanted her frustration to continue,
for now at least. I refilled my glass, finishing the bottle.
I pulled the rest of the capsule off the top and held the top
in one hand as I toyed with her pubies with the other. She
was squirming now, so I leaned over and took a nipple into my
mouth and sucked- hard. Her vocalizations became less
intelligible, but the message was clear. She loved the way I
was playing with her.

After a few minutes, the top of the bottle was warm, and I
maneuvered myself so my cock was at her tit level. “Rub my
cock on your tits,” I instructed. Soon I could feel her ripe
breasts and hard nipples under my raging pecker. I spread her
legs apart and began running my fingers along her lips,
spreading the wetness around. She was getting quite charged
from all of this. I began to play with her pussy with the
slender wine bottle. Like many german wine bottles, those of
Alsace are long and tapered. I would soon put these
attributes to good use. I began rubbing her clit with the
bottle, then I went back down along her slit. She looked up
to see what I was doing, the sensations were so different
from anything she’d experienced. I leaned over and licked her
burning pussy with long up and down strokes. She shuddered in
pre-orgasmic bliss. I worked two fingers into her and
massaged her g-spot for a minute or two. Her excitement was
reflected in her expanding pussy. I slowly and carefully put
the bottle against her vagina and pushed steadily until it
started to go in. A cry from the other end of the bed made me
stop. “No! Don’t stop!” I began a careful in and out motion,
working the bottle in a little more each time. I got four or
five inches in, and the bottle was getting pretty big around
at that point. I didn’t want to stretch her too much. I
leaned over and after a few manipulations of the bottle and
some neck craning moments, I was able to tongue her swollen
clit. It took less than 10 seconds to push her over the edge.

She came, screaming, writhing, hot snatch pulsing around
the glass intruder. She was completely incoherent, thrashing
and moaning. I stopped licking her so she could relax, and
slowly slid the bottle out of her crack. She lay panting next
to me, but hardly finished. She rolled over on top of me and
began furiously sticking her tongue down my throat, tasting
her own juices on my lips and tongue. She was like a woman
possessed. Now she began biting and sucking my nipples, which
got them very sensitive, as I played with her firm breasts. I
was on the verge of blue balls at this point. I’ve had blue
balls more often than Papa Smurf, but that wasn’t going to
happen this time. She went down on me and slurped my bone
into her mouth. She was an accomplished fellatrix, that was
immediately apparent. Up and down, tonguing my balls, pushing
my legs apart and licking over my anus; I was quickly being
sent into orbit

She looked up at me, slyly, and took my balls into her
mouth while maintaining eye contact. It was intensely erotic
seeing her suck my nuts that way. With a plop they fell out
of her mouth and she began slurping on the purple head. Then
she did something I found extremely intense; she began
talking dirty to me with her mouth full of cock. She told me
how she loved sucking me off and how she looked forward to
tasting my hot cum. She kept it up for several minutes before
my eyes closed involuntarily and I braced myself for the
eruption. I began squirting hotly into her mouth; it was such
a powerful orgasm that the first spasm lasted about 3 seconds.
I must have spurted alot because she started choking.
Then the spasms came closer together as I proclaimed my
enjoyment. She kept up with it as best she could until I was
done. I was actually seeing stars, I was hyperventilating so
much. She wiped a few strings of cum off her lips, and lay
beside me.

She began running her hands over my chest and licking my
ear, and I never really got soft. She straddled me and her
hot muff slid over my turgid rod with silky smoothness. No
wonder her husband couldn’t hold it very long. She was
exquisite, she’d clench her muscles and milk my cock, then
ride more. I rolled us over so I could be on top. I had her
put her legs together so my cock slid directly over her clit,
then began pumping rhythmically. Our sounds together were a
symphony of love. Sweaty bodies sliding together, desperate
breathing, moaning and crying gave way to shrieks of pleasure
as we climbed the plateau. Her body became rigid then
quivered like a bowstring as she shot over the cliff.
Incomprehensible cries filled the air as I joined her in
a paroxysm of ecstasy.

We lay there together, enjoying the post-orgasmic
aftershocks. Nothing like servicing your accounts, I say.

Note that I describe it as an adventure rather than an affair.
Affairs I have had before, but never anything resembling this in
the slightest. No, adventure it is, or perhaps exploit or better
yet, escapade. Pick the description that pleases you best. But
whatever it was, a love affair it was not.

The incidents described here are actual, though they may seen to
have been romanticized somewhat, and perhaps they were. Details
may vary slightly from fact. If so, the reason is obvious-
memory is irregular and faulty, and none of the events,
unfortunately, were recorded as they happened. No diary was kept.
That is certainly too bad. It would make fascinating reading
now, I am sure. Still, these incidents were shared almost on a
daily basis with my friend Sara, and upon reading this file, she
says that her recollection is essentially similar with the record
(though she does say to leave her part out. Ha!). Whether she
agrees with my conclusion is another matter. But then, you don’t
know my conclusion, do you?

As an addenda to the preface above, written somewhat later, let
me report that a diary WAS kept. Unbeknownst to me, Sara had
kept a personal diary in which she reported most of what I had
told her, along with her own reactions to each event. I was
surprised to learn this, perhaps even a bit dismayed. On
reflection, though, I concluded that it really made very little
difference- it did not change the substance at all of what
happened, and served later to reinforce my memory in looking back
on events that are truly important to me but probably not to
anyone else. In reading the diary now, I find two interesting
things- that my memory is essentially correct and Sara’s written
reaction to each thing that occurred is excited and exciting to
me. So much for the addenda. Now back to the report.

To tie things down, consider the background. June, 1984. Herbert
is in Europe, attending a major conference and staying on for
other business. He will be there for six weeks, perhaps
eight. Helen has not been able to go. She plans to join him in
the South of France later after his conference is over, in two
weeks or so. For now, she is still at home, busy but not
overwhelmed with her work. Helen fancies herself a queen. She is
intelligent, attractive, with a marvelous voluptuous body, and
she is fully aware of it and of a certain power that it gives.
But she has a haughty, imperious, I-am-superior-to-you attitude
that annoys many people and absolutely infuriates others. She is
married to an older man who obviously adores her, pampers her,
caters to her every whim, but who cannot at all control her and
has never satisfied her. Her husband travels extensively.

The evening that this event began, a Friday, Helen had gone to
the symphony, alone, and there encountered a man, Tyrone, whom
she had known well once and disliked- a tall, spare man of
curious temperament, a hedonist, a true male chauvinist,
stubborn, opinionated, willful- a type that Helen usually
detested. That evening, after the concert, he offered her a
drink, and thinking of avoiding a long cab ride home alone, she
accepted. The thought of physical involvement with this man,
though perhaps not repulsive, was certainly far from her mind.
After stopping for a drink and a late, light supper, he did drive
her to her house, made the expected pass, and she responded by
giving him a stinging slap in the face. He replied as no man had
before. He twisted her arm, turned her away from him, and using a
hard bare hand, slapped her fiercely across the rump. She
reacted immediately, and when he slapped her behind hard again,
she gasped aloud as if all thought of resistance was gone.
Recognizing her reaction exactly for what it was, as complete
submission, he sat, pulled her over his lap, bottom-up, pulled
her skirt all the way up over her hips and slowly and with great
ceremony, pulled her panty hose down so that her now-bare ass was
in his complete view. Now, firmly and with great authority, he
totally took control, spanking her bottom until it had turned
bright pink and she had begun to bawl like a baby. Ignoring her
cries as just so much nonsense (which both of them knew they
were), his hand wandered over her rosy red rump, found a path
between her tightly clenched thighs and when a finger tested, it
discovered that she was sopping wet, that her clit had emerged
and now stood upright like a miniature penis, indicating to him
just how sincere her protests were. He sensed total victory. In
only another moment he had her panty hose off completely, and now
with her totally obvious complete cooperation, had unzipped her
dress, pulled it over her head, tossed it on the floor as if it
was just a rag rather than the very expensive frock that it
really was (wasn’t that the ULTIMATE indignity?, she thought).

He had unhooked her bra so that she stood nude before him, her
bare breasts in his face, her nipples now standing like
sentinels, offering themselves to his hard, sucking kisses, her
arms around his neck. One of his hands fondled her rump while
the other hand was up between her widespread thighs, his finger
inserted full depth in her sensuous feminine flower, teasing it
and bringing her ever closer to orgasm. She had been totally
conquered by a simple spanking and by a bit of foreplay. He had
won the prize and obviously it was now his for the taking. He
knew this and so did she. She was fully aware that she was
excited beyond anything in her experience, that very soon he
would want to use her, and however he chose to use her that
there was simply no way that she could stop him or would stop him
or would even want to stop him.

Now he led her to her bedroom, spanked her further and harder, to
her very great dismay- or perhaps to her very considerable joy.
He stripped. Soon he joined her nude in her bed. He was rigidly
erect and she was obviously totally acquiescent, totally
passionate, totally excited, totally and absolutely orgasmically
responsive. He took her in strange positions and in strange
ways, vanquishing her completely and certainly satisfying her
better than she had ever been satisfied. During it all, with
Tyrone’s cock buried to its full depth in her humid, squishy
pussy, when she had already had orgasm twice and knew she was on
the verge of a third, she thought that never, since the day at
age 16 when she had lost her virginity until perhaps an hour ago,
had she ever really known what sex was all about, what true
carnal pleasure could be, what submission to a strong individual
could do. She had always liked sex. but really, certainly could
have done without it, too- but now?

Now it was hours later. He had gone, almost without a word and
she had to deal mentally with the evening’s almost incredible
events. Well, one thing of which she was certain- she would not
be seeing him again. He had brutalized her- well, not exactly
brutalized, but he certainly had spanked her. Not that it had
hurt especially, but it had cost her her dignity. And he had
done strange things, disgusting things. Like putting his finger
into her anus, and then, of all things, kissing her there, a wet,
thrusting kiss, inserting his tongue as far as he could. That was
absolutely bestial. Animals behaved like that, not intelligent
people. And worst of all, he had taken her, made her whimper in
pleasure, brought her to orgasm several times, and before
leaving, firmly pinched her nipples, made her call him Master,
and made her suck his then semi-soft cock, brought him back erect
and was quickly impaled again on it. Now she lay resting in bed,
thinking about all this, about the moment when he first took her,
spanked her and then stripped her bare and spanked her again,
brought her nude and excited into her own bedroom, stripped his
own clothes off and paraded around the room showing off his very
rigid erection, with the absolute implication of what he was
going to do with that awful thing — right here, she thought, in
this very room, in my own bed. And she found herself getting
overheated once more, her nipples again erect, and her juices
flowing. Crazy, she thought, absolutely crazy. She was going
to cum again.

She thought about the spanking- actually several spankings that
he had given her, all with his bare hand against her naked
bottom, with her trying to twist away from the strokes, but at
the same time, raising up slightly, perhaps unconsciously, to be
accessible, to offer a more tempting target. No man had ever
spanked her before. In fact, in her entire life the only
spanking she received was as a schoolgirl of 16, when one evening
coming home late and slightly tipsy from a high-school dance, she
had found her mother waiting up, furious. Her jeans were taken
down, then and there, and her bottom basted by a very angry
parent. That one, she reflected, hurt a great deal more than the
one did tonight.

Her strange thought was that she really wanted to share this
experience. She would call Sara. Now that they were really
close she would tell her everything. Sara would just love to
hear about this adventure. She loved kinky things and kinky
clothes and kinky adventures, and especially, intimate, kinky
talk. Sara would flip!!! Yes, she thought, Sara WILL flip if I
call her at 3:30 AM even to tell her THIS story. Helen lay back
in bed, nude, voluptuously excited, sleepless, thinking strange
thoughts. This WAS a strange adventure, a marvelous kinky
adventure, one to be regretted, perhaps, but one to be savored,
to be reflected on, to be shared with a really close, loved and
understanding friend, one to be discussed with her in a
particularly private moment (perhaps while lying with her face
between Sara’s elegant breasts, while kissing and gently sucking
a mouth-watering, responsive nipple). This was an experience to
be digested and analyzed and understood, but NOT one to be
repeated.

She chanced to look at her telephone, on the nightstand next to
her bed. She willed it to ring. Let some one call me, she
thought, anybody. Nobody did. She thought, what if it rings
right now, and it is him- Tyrone, that bastard- and he orders me
to get into my car and drive to his house, stark naked, right
now!!! Would I? she wondered. She looked at her nightstand.
There, on a sheet of paper was his parting shot- his telephone
number, written there just as he was leaving. His verbal order
to her to call him tomorrow night, exactly at nine, or suffer the
consequences– whatever that might mean. Call him tomorrow?-
well, he could just forget about that. She meant to crumple up
that piece of paper, right now, and to put it in the ashtray and
light a match to it- as if burning it meant burning the
relationship and burning that bastard Tyrone at the same time.
But just then she did not have a match handy, so it would wait
until tomorrow. Yes, she thought, I will burn it in the morning.

And speaking of burning, she thought, he certainly did burn my
bottom with that awful spanking. And that thought was finally
too much for her- with a hand rubbing across her nipples,
caressing them, and the other hand teasing and rubbing her clit,
her body began to heave and shake and away she went into wild,
total orgasm again!!

Helen had before tonight, very limited extramarital experience.
In each of the three or four times that she had been bedded down,
the man was of the same type- a mature, intellectual,
professorial type, a man for whom she had profound respect, a man
who respected her own intellectual strength and her breeding, who
treated her like a great lady is treated, a man who in each case
was almost a clone for her husband. Every time so far the appeal
had been mental. Heaven knows that Tyrone was none of these
things that had interested her in the past. He was a totally
different specimen- mature, yes, but not a great mind, not a
scholar at all, not particularly physically attractive, not
muscular, not strong, not especially talented in anything that
she could identify. She giggled, thinking that his penis wasn’t
all that huge either, big enough certainly to get the job done,
but not huge either, like some of those that she had admired in
porno flicks. Well, if the appeal wasn’t mental, and it wasn’t
completely physical either, then what was it? What DID this guy
do that was so special? All he did was take charge, ignore what
she wanted (or thought she wanted) take control of her,
discipline her, and— well, what else, she thought.

The next morning she could think of nothing else. But now she
had better personal insight in to what had really happened. He
had somehow peeled off the veneer layer from her, and had gotten
down to the core, to what she felt was the fundamental person
inside. He made her feel like a true love slave, ready, anxious
to please his every whim. And the funny thing, the absolutely
wierd point about this whole episode was that she did not love
this man- she did not even especially like him and did not
respect him. He did not have the deep bass voice that she
sometimes found sensuously attractive. He was not especially
handsome nor tall. He had no great brain. What he did have was
a certain presence, a command of the situation that she found
just incredibly overpowering. And he wanted her, obviously
wanted her, physically wanted her, carnally wanted her, and could
and would all but own her, body and soul, but mostly body.

She immediately began to share her experience with Sara, and
found that Sara was, as expected, almost as delighted hearing the
details as she was in telling them. Helen found this part of the
adventure just doubly delectable- lying nude with Sara, her lips
nuzzling Sara’s shell pink ear, perhaps her tongue probing, her
hands running across that ravishing rump, a hand searching
between Sara’s widespread thighs, a finger finding exquisite
cream in that scrumptious cunny. As the adventure proceeded,
Sara demanded to know, needed to know every detail- whom she had
met, what they looked like, what they had done, for how long,
how, when, where. Sara seemed to want to participate, but
vicariously, afraid really to cross the line and join directly in
the adventure. And this Helen wanted to protect her from, not
really knowing where it was going. Sara was Helen’s secret. So
Sara knew everything that happened between Helen and Tyrone and
his friends, but Tyrone never knew about Sara.

Helen thought through her situation–her husband will be gone for
a month or more and for that month she has a master, one who owns
her, will train her in the image that he finds desirable. He
will spank her when he pleases, perhaps in the privacy of her
bedroom and perhaps elsewhere, with others watching. That much he
has already told her. She knows that she should flee him, refuse
to see him again or even speak to him. And she is entirely
certain that she will not do that- that tomorrow she may be
terrified of what can happen, but she knows that she WILL see him
again. And she will be spanked by him- and she is, of course.
Now these subsequent spankings that she gets later are not at all
severe beatings- only fairly gentle spankings applied with a bare
hand or mildly with a leather strop to her naked bottom. They do
not even especially hurt. They perhaps more than anything else
are symbolic, both to him and to her, of his sexual domination.
They paint her rear end a bright pink, leaving her heaving and
gasping, and incredibly lascivious, looking only for ways to
please him even more. And he promises her nothing more than
regular, almost constant excitement, wild new adventures,
exciting new friends, and orgasm, orgasm, orgasm!!!!

And so she does not go to Europe that summer. She decides that
the pressures at work are too great, that she cannot get away,
that Herbert will travel alone and enjoy himself, that his
freedom will be good for him, invigorating. She tells all this to
Sara, and Sara thinks it is hysterically funny. Sara believes
that women are mostly cunt anyway (expressed in exactly that
phrase). She believes that all women occasionally have their
brains in their vaginas but that Helen’s brains now are totally
confined to the clitoris, (and on stating that conclusion, Sara
leans forward, finds that delightful appendage, and emphasizes
her point by giving it a lovely kiss). Sara thinks that Helen is
currently involved in very private, intimate treatment, perhaps
best called Mind Fuck, in Sara’s judgment an effective and
acceptable form of therapy. She approves of this adventure,
conditionally. That is, the idea is good, the events so far have
been fun and very, very different. This will all be OK so long as
it can be kept in perspective and no long term damage is done.
She has not met Tyrone, but she certainly now knows all about
him, and she thinks that Helen has never looked so good or been
so interesting. Her only complaint is that Helen does not have
as much private time for Sara, but the time they do have together
is absolutely marvelous- more intimate and exciting than it had
ever been before.

So Helen has a master, a strong man on whom all her feminine
wiles of the past are useless, a man who has captured her, has
used her thoroughly and often and made her love him for it,
conquered her totally employed her sexually in every conceivable
way, introduced her to threesomes and foursomes and orgies,
photographed her nude body in unbelievable poses, kept her
constantly aroused and is now putting her through her paces,
a series of varied sexual adventures, all embarrassing to her but
marvelously, voluptuously dangerous and exciting at the same
time. The queen has become a willing sex slave to a highly
imaginative master, and never has she felt herself so much a
woman as now.

In one of their private moments, Helen had confided some of her
unrealized fantasies to Tyrone. One of these related to having
sex with a black man, something that she had thought about for
years, but had obviously never done. Tyrone was fascinated with
the concept, but decided it needed expanding upon. He knew of a
black couple, professionals, intelligent, and interested
themselves in swinging. He arranged the meeting. The two of
them, Helen and Tyrone went to the apartment where the black
couple, George and Grace, lived. Tyrone had told her that these
two were middle aged -perhaps late 30s or early 40s, and quite
attractive. He was a physician, she a clinical psychologist and,
according to Tyrone, the least inhibited person that he knew.

The prearranged plan was simplicity indeed. The two women would
play with each other while the men watched. And when all were
ready, they would simply swap…that is, Helen with George and
Grace with Tyrone. The apartment was large, furnished well and
with taste- obviously the home of a successful couple. Tyrone
had instructed Helen to bring along baby-doll nightie and bikini
panties. Grace was already dressed that way, a short, extremely
attractive, curvaceous lady, golden brown in shade, with an
exotic figure, short, curly black hair, a large red mouth, a
dashing pink tongue, huge dark flashing eyes, and an entirely
winsome expression. She appeared to be sex personified. Helen
liked her immediately.

After some preliminary conversation, Grace led Helen to the
bedroom to dress, and of course, helped her to undress for her
baby-doll. First though, Grace turned her face up for a kiss.
When Helen responded, Grace thrust her tongue out what seemed to
be six inches, bathing the back of the roof of Helen’s mouth-
what seemingly was the most exotic first kiss that Helen had ever
received. Of course, the fact that Grace was unzipping this and
unhooking that all the while, delightful parts were coming
uncovered and bare and could be touched, and stroked and
stimulated. This only fueled the flames that her tongue had
lit. They continued this exchange of astonishingly appetizing
kisses, deep-tongue kisses, and almost forgot the two men waiting
for them. Helen had a good look at her delightful playmate, at
her luscious golden, small but shapely titties with their spiffy
chocolate covered nipples, and that curly, sable pubic triangle
and the pink clit that seemed to be peeping out at her, at her
scrumptious hips and thighs and that beautiful ass, and thought
that she would have been just as glad to forget the men for the
evening- that she was really taken with this Grace and that what
she wanted from her was really more than a hors d’oeuvre. Grace
would have made a delectable main course. That was not to be, at
least not this evening.

A few moments later, the ladies emerged, arm in arm, obviously
already well acquainted. Grace peeled Helen out of her baby-
doll, to show her figure off to George, then took off her own,
and nude, the girls began their enchanting love-play, with an
almost delirious audience. Deep tongue kisses were exchanged,
nipples were lovingly stroked and kissed, clits petted, kissed,
sucked, vaginas were tasted, each girl doing the foreplay for the
other to prepare her for the injection which would soon follow.
Along the way, the two men stripped. Helen looked up, first saw
Tyrone nude and hard. Across the room, George was also nude,
very large, very erect, obviously very ready for Helen. Helen
was very ready for George, too.

The girls separated, each going to a man. George put his arm
around Helen, captured the cheek of her bottom in his hand, and
led her to a bedroom. Once through the door, he turned her
towards him, delightfully squeezed both cheeks of her scrumptious
ass, his rigid cock pressing against her belly. They exchanged a
deep, wet kiss. In only a moment, Helen was on the bed, on her
back, her legs spread wide, George’s eager face between her
thighs, his tongue tasting her now squishy-wet pussy. She turned
around so that they were in a position of 69. She took his huge,
thick, chocolate Tootsie Roll in her hand, squeezed it, leaned
towards it, kissed it, and took as much of it as she could into
her mouth. For long moments, she sucked the rigid ebony bar,
really enjoying the sensation as it throbbed in her mouth. It
was almost too much to contain and it hurt her jaw a bit, but it
was that very well known pleasure-pain, that lovely combination
of the best of both. It was her intention eventually to turn
around and take him in her fully-ready vagina, but they waited an
instant too long.

Now understand this moment. Before Tyrone, she had done oral sex
only a relatively few times, practically never with her husband.
She had done it with each of her previous lovers, but generally
as a means of erecting an otherwise flaccid penis, perhaps after
they had already had intercourse once. No man had ever cum in
her mouth. Even Tyrone, who had undeniably expanded her
experiences in sucking a cock, and who certainly could have cum
in her mouth if he chose to, did not do so. The thought of a man
squirting his thick, oily essence into her fully ready vagina was
pleasant, even downright exciting. And since she had recently
been re-introduced into anal sex (and liked it, in typical
masochistic fashion), having a man cumming into her anus was
fine, even fun. Still, the idea of a cock going off into her
mouth, while not actually disgusting, was perhaps a little bit
frightening- the ultimate invasion of her personal privacy. And
now, right now, it obviously was going to happen.

She just knew it was going to happen, that he was going to go off
like a fire hose. She thought that she did not even know what to
do. She did not have to do anything. He grabbed her face with
both his hands. pulled her closer so that most of his full depth
was inserted in her mouth, the glans almost down her throat. She
could not help but think of a porno film that she and Sara had
watched together in which the heroine has sucked down a huge
prick, taking the whole thing, taking it all the way to her
lover’s orgasm. Now she could feel George approaching orgasm-
the head of his cock swelled even larger, receded, swelled again,
and then suddenly a thick, hot, oily, salty squirt against the
back of her palate. Her gave her a huge oral injection, and in
the position she was, she could do nothing other than to swallow
it down. And with his tongue furiously stroking her, the sheer
masochistic sensation overpowering her, she had orgasm, too, a
wild response on her part to an absolutely wild feeling.

So she had been treated to her first taste of cum, and a royal
mouthful it was. And she had dutifully swallowed it down, and
had herself cum while doing it. A marvelous experience!!! What
in the world, she wondered, had she been afraid of? The taste?
Well, yes, a bit strange, but certainly not unpleasant, perhaps
similar in a sense to raw oysters, she thought. She felt
disappointed, on the one hand, because she had really wanted
George to measure her internal dimensions with that gorgeous
monster, to probe her for depth and diameter. On the other hand,
she did have the experience of servicing him orally, all the way,
and had been rewarded for her efforts by his obvious pleasure and
by the copious salty (and marvelously palatable, no question
about that) squirt he had shot down her throat.

They rested together for a bit, and as he relaxed, she knelt on
the bed before him. Now, absolutely unafraid, with a new feeling
of confidence and control. she leaned forward, her lips brushed
against his now semi-soft prick. She thrust out her tongue,
licking its length, and marveled at it as it grew before her
eyes. In only an instant, or so it seemed, he was erect again.
He pulled her on top of him. She spread a leg on either side,
now perched above that again large, fairly hard, brown rod. His
hands were on her hips, slowly pulling her down, impaling her
squishy cunt until his full depth was buried. It felt absolutely
marvelous. It stretched her beyond where she had ever before
been expanded. Now they rode, now his hands holding and squeezing
her behind, which she just loved, and later holding each luscious
breast, gently pinching her nipples, but all the while stroking
upwards, deep, slow plunges, and with the front of his shaft
gently massaging her clit on each stroke. For another ten
minutes this went on. Helen perhaps had another orgasm then,
perhaps not. She did not later remember. George certainly did,
inundating her with another lovely flood.

A while later, they walked out, nude, hand in hand, to the other
bedroom, to find Grace in the identical position, sitting astride
Tyrone’s cock. As they walked in, they were behind the couple
making love, and had an intimate view of Grace’s elegant,
shapely, full bottom, her thighs spread, Tyrone’s prick inserted
deeply in her pussy. As she stroked up and down they were
treated to the sight of the muscular action in her rump, a
totally erotic sight to Helen. Grace bent forward to give Tyrone
a long kiss, now lying parallel over him, rubbing her titties on
his chest, and exposing as she did so, her winking brown rosette.
It seemed to be begging for a kiss, so Helen did just that- knelt
behind, bent her head forward, kissed it lovingly, and attempted
to thrust her tongue through. That seemed a totally appropriate
gesture for the marvelous feelings that she had just now. She
began to laugh, but nobody quite knew why. She thought, just at
that instant, that she had become a graduate student again, this
time in a PhD program in Advanced Fancy Fucking. And that Tyrone
was her tutor. She was currently doing research for her
dissertation, that Grace’s apartment was her laboratory. She
giggled–yes, she would report that to Sara tomorrow, and they
would be hysterical together.

One point to be considered. Helen had isolated Sara from her
experience with Tyrone. But she did report everything to Sara,
so she did tell her all about George and Grace. Perhaps of the
entire affair this was the portion that most excited Sara. There
was nothing to be done about it then. However, perhaps a year
later, when Tyrone was history, the topic came up between the
girls for perhaps the hundredth time, and Helen agreed to
introduce Sara to the black couple. They all met for dinner, and
retired to Helen’s house for dessert (Herbert was away). Would
George like to see all three girls naked and playing together?
Oh wow!!! But yes. Would it be OK so far as Grace was concerned?
Well, certainly. And did they? Of course. In a marvelous kind of
daisy chain, like a reverse Oreo Cookie, a mouth-watering
chocolate layer sandwiched between two whites. And was he given
his choice of the three to try on for size, personally? Well,
yes he was. And who was the choice? That question is
ridiculous. You know the answer to that. And did Helen and
Grace play their own private games while George reamed out Sara’s
scrumptious cunt? Don’t even bother to ask.

But now back to the great Tyrone adventure. For the two year
period prior to Tyrone she and Sara had been taking belly dancing
lessons- at first with a group of woman at the local YWCA- and at
the end of that series, from an older, very experienced belly
dancer, an elegant, exotic lady of Turkish extraction who had
learned this dance in the old country as a girl. This older
woman, now about 60, is an incredible specimen. She is slim,
lithe, with a marvelous body and more energetic than women half
her age. She has continued the lessons with Sara and Helen and
two other ladies as an advanced class, taught privately. She has
taught them things that the YWCA classes did not even
contemplate- much more cosmopolitan things, and especially she
has taught them about the sexuality of the dance. She believes
that belly dancing is inherently erotic, that it is meant to
excite both the dancer and the watchers, and that it is senseless
and practically impossible for the dancer not to have sex after
she is through dancing. If she has no partner available, then
masturbation is expected and understood. She believes that belly
dancing without orgasm following is absolute nonsense. Sara, of
course, has a young, strong, very vigorous husband. When she
comes home from a lesson, he is delighted to help relieve her of
her excess energy and strong erotic feelings in the time honored,
traditional way. Helen’s husband, on the other hand, is not
always there and is not as sexually involved. For her,
masturbation after a dance lesson has become almost a ritual.

Helen has been delighted with the lessons- they are real fun,
marvelous exercise, and they give her the most erotic feelings
imaginable. When she began her lessons, she thought that they
might put some thrills in her otherwise hum-drum workaday
existence. Well, she thought, they certainly have done that.
Consider the basic movement in the belly dance- the thrusting
forward and backwards of the pelvis, an almost perfect parody of
the female movements in sexual intercourse. Consider the
source,too. Belly dancing was first done in the Harems of the
Sultans in the Ottoman Empire, and the dancers were always harem
slaves, selected for having the perfect, voluptuous figure that
the dance demands- full breasts, firm, shapely legs and thighs,
and a delicious, magnificent bottom. Helen’s figure matches this
description exactly.

And further, the Harem slave is a Houri, a nubile female whose
whole purpose is pleasing her master, however he might wish to be
pleased. It is her responsibility to arouse him, almost beyond
control, so that he will then take her, manfully, forcefully.

During the early lessons at the YWCA, the students dress in
sweatpants and shirts and tennis shoes, a ragpack looking group,
not in the least pleasing in appearance. After the YWCA phase,
the teacher suggested that Helen and Sara and the ladies buy the
appropriate costumes, the diaphanous, filmy materials, designed
to show more than they hide, so that beautiful breasts are
apparent, nipples are protuberant and obvious, and thighs and
bottoms carnally displayed as much as they are hid. One Saturday
afternoon, the girls made an excursion to Greek Town to an
obscure shop, and bought the costumes. Later in the week they
met, each to see how the other looked dressed. Helen looked very
attractive- but Sara was absolutely gorgeous. Her pitch black
hair, intense brown eyes, full shapely mouth, and dark coloring
gave her an Italian look, almost like Sophia Loren. She was sex
personified in this costume, her gorgeous body almost completely
revealed and still hidden slightly. She looked the perfect
Houri, the beautiful, nubile, voluptuous maiden that Moslems
think await them in Paradise, trained first to tease and then to
satisfy, to give perfect, exotic, never-ending sex in ways almost
beyond the comprehension of mortal man.

Helen put on a tape, and they danced- first together, and then,
one for the other, obviously both very stimulated. Sara
approached the end of her dance, and in Harem manner, began to
remove the few articles of clothing she wore. First the
pantaloons came off so she was dancing in her vest and
underpants. Helen removed her own pantaloons. Sara unbuttoned
the vest, showing Helen her gorgeous breasts for the first time,
utterly delicious looking love apples, high and full and firm,
with chocolate brown aureoles and nipples, fully erect, almost
demanding to be kissed. Helen stared, transfixed. Sara danced
closer, took down her underpants, wiggled free of them and
danced, her legs spread, her podex wiggling, her black pubic
triangle in front of Helen’s eyes. She turned, her gorgeous bare
bottom weaving, the cute rosette now and then visible as the
cheeks parted, almost beckoning to Helen to come forward and kiss
it. Helen stared, absolutely entranced, unable to take her
glance away from the heavenly sight of Sara, now turned again
towards her, her legs slightly spread, her unbelievable
femininity clearly visible, juicy, lovable, as it moved forward
and back, offering itself for her kisses. Helen pulled off her
few items of clothes and knelt before this dancing nymph and
moved forward, her face now between the dancers legs. And for
the first time, she kissed that glorious cunny. Her tongue found
the erect clit. She massaged it wetly. Now the two nude girls
stood, the dancing stopped though the music went on. They kissed
deeply and wildly. In an instant they were on the couch, in a
position of 69, each feasting on the sopping, squishy. appetizing
cunt of the other. Both have found the only logical, the only
possible end of a true Harem belly dance when no man is present.

And now, much later, after Helen was captured, her new master has
decided that Helen will do a public performance of the belly
dance, before a small audience, in his own home. An elegant
buffet has been catered and served, with fine wines. The group
is small, but intelligent. The conversation has been lively.
The guests have finished dinner and are relaxed over coffee and
dessert. They are ready for entertainment and Helen has gone to
don her costume. She will be wearing a semi-transparent vest,
deeply cut to show her cleavage, and through which her nipples
are easily visible. She is wearing the dancers pantaloons, again
of a diaphanous material through which her panties can be seen,
again almost transparent, and through which can be seen the
shadow of her pubic triangle and the delightful cleavage of her
behind. She is wearing a boxfull of junk jewelry, assorted
baubles and bangles of glass, in bright colors, in vivid reds and
greens and yellows and blues. She has on dazzling makeup, and a
spray of perfume in strategic places. The perfume itself is a
special type, with a very sweet, aromatic scent. It is potent
when she is still, but later when her wild movements have caused
her body to heat up, the perfume vaporizes further and the air
takes on a carnal, erotic aroma, almost like incense. This
arouses her, and she knows that it excites the audience. There
will not be a flaccid cock in the room, later on.

She hears the music begin- a tape of Turkish music, exotic and
slow and rhythmic and intense, music one can almost taste as well
as hear. She dances in, her body throbbing in time with the
music, her sexuality obvious, her exhilaration clearly showing.
Those present applaud, enjoying the private show. Very soon, the
tempo changes, the beat picks up and the pace of her movements
change. Quickly her master signals her. Her pantaloons are
removed. She dances now, bare legged, her scrumptious bottom in
constant motion, more excited now than before. The master
signals again. Her vest flutters down. She now stands bare
breasted before the audience, her nipples rigidly erect, her
almost orgasmic feeling growing. Will her panties come off,
next? Of course they do. Now she is nude, continuing the
motions, the parody. She knows what to expect next. She is
wild with shameless carnality, with arousal. The sensual music
is itself seductively hypnotic. The aphrodisiac aromas, the
mixture of her perfumes plus the wondrous scent of her permeate
the room. In her mind she knows that never has she looked so
exciting as at this instant, never has she felt so much like a
true wanton, never so much like a woman.

When the dance is done before a private audience in the Harem, it
concludes with the nude dancer being given for the night to one
or more of the guests. Sometimes the person selected will take
her, then and there, with the others watching, cheering him on.
She will already be fully ready. No foreplay is necessary. The
male selected may or may not need further stimulation. If so,
the dancer is fully trained, and will use her body in any way to
excite him, to prepare him to take her. And when he takes her,
he will take her however he pleases, in any orifice in any way.
Will he want to spank her naked bottom with a strop or a cane?
Then he will do so, without opposition from the Sultan or any
other person there. He is the chosen guest and has been given
the use of the dancer, and use her he will, as he pleases.

There is another historical custom from the days of the Sultan.
In those days, a eunuch was present, usually carrying a bamboo
cane. If the Sultan decided that the dancer’s pace was too slow,
or if there was a certain movement that he wanted emphasized, a
sign to the eunuch would tell him to slash the dancer across her
behind, a stroke guaranteed to bring results. This might be
repeated a few times, or many if the Sultan was cruel. Tonight,
of course, there is no eunuch and none would be needed.

This night, the audience is composed of the master, three other
men and a woman, her master’s friends. She has not seen any of
them before this evening. Helen dances on, now turning her back
to the audience, bending far forward, and slightly spreading her
legs. Her marvelous buttocks are only a foot away from those
watching, her squishy femininity fully in sight, her podex
wiggling and wobbling, the rosebud of her anus almost winking at
those watching. As she is bent forward, her body so intimately
exposed to those who watch, her own feelings are of gigantic
stimulation. She knows that soon her master will give her for
the night to one or another of the guests- perhaps one of the
men, or perhaps to the woman, and she knows that she will do her
part to please this person.

She is playing out the part mentally of the harem slave, and it
is as much as her life would be worth to displease the Sultan if
she really was a slave. And in a sense she is. Since she has
come under the control of this master, she has been getting
regular punishment- which she loves and hates at the same time.
There is no question about it being truly painful to be turned
over, rump-up and stropped thoroughly with that leather or her
master’s hand- it is not. The spankings are not at all that
hard. But at the same time, she adores the wild sexuality that
she feels when spanked, knowing that her master will then use her
in strange, exotic ways or give her body for use by his friends.

Yes, in a sense he has converted her from lady to whore, but
never has she felt as attached to or as involved with any man.
Yes, he totally is boss and she would not willingly have him any
other way. And she absolutely revels in the joy she feels as her
master shows off her beautiful body to strangers and willingly
shares her most intimate charms with others.

She dances on, her nude body writhing and turning. At times her
back is turned to the audience, and they then are treated to the
sight of the muscles working in her beautiful thighs and ass, a
particular delight in the eyes of her master and provocative
absolutely to any man. Perhaps whomever gets her tonight will
want her that way, she thinks, and gives a special wiggle and
spread-legged bend forward that emphasizes that particular
delight to the audience, signifying perhaps that there is
orgasmic joy to be had right here for a strong man. And who will
the winner be, the one selected to conquer her, perhaps right
there in full view of all, on that pile of cushions? Maybe it
will be the woman this time. She is attractive enough, about 40,
shapely, quite well dressed, with a good, slim figure. Her name
is Amy, an executive in the fashion industry, and during dinner
her contributions to the conversation were lively and animated
and interesting. Helen dances a little bit, just for her, and
this is immediately obvious to all. Yes, Helen thinks, that one
might just spread her thighs and Helen would kneel between them
cheerfully, gladly looking into and then kissing and worshipping
her glorious femininity.

Perhaps it will be one of the men. One, seated in the center,
attracts her especially. He is an attorney named Paul, a man of
refinement and power, very obviously successful, understated in
dress. He is tall and sturdily built, perhaps 50, salt and pepper
grey in his hair, and a strong, powerful look– and obviously now
very aroused. Now, she dances especially for him, facing him, her
thighs parted, her curly dark blonde triangle in full view, and
as she moves back and forth, her vulva opens and closes slightly,
her pink clit now erect and peeping out at him. The perfume is
now at its fullest effect and the sight of her nude body,
obviously totally passionate, fully ready to be conquered, has
all of the audience incredibly excited. They now want the dance
to end and to see Helen take up another challenge- the total
satisfaction of another person.

The master designates an individual who wins tonight’s prize. As
she had hoped, it is the stocky man with grey in his hair. He
seizes her immediately, his hands rubbing across her back and
down over her bottom, and as he grasps each cheek of her rump in
a huge hand and squeezes, he kisses her, a long, wet kiss, his
tongue plunging deep in her mouth. And of course she responds to
his kiss, offering her hot tongue in a kind of duel, her nipples
rubbing against his shirt. They are in full view of the others,
but she does not care at all who watches- in her mind she is a
fully stimulated slave girl who will do her utmost, her absolute
utmost to satisfy this man, the man designated as her lover for
tonight by her master. He bends slightly forward, taking a
nipple between his lips and gives it a hard, sucking kiss- almost
too hard for her comfort, but still tremendously stimulating. He
stands and his trousers immediately drop to expose a monstrous
erection, standing straight out, all but pointing at her. Helen
drops to her knees as her master has taught her to do. She
greets this appendage with a large, wet kiss, massaging the head
with her slippery tongue. The dance has done what it always does
for her-left her feeling almost orgasmic. Now she wants to pay
homage to this lovely huge cock, to make it even more ready so
that it will invade her body, give her spectacular pleasure and
then squirt its full tribute into her. And she will willingly do
as she has been taught- she will relax totally, no matter where
this monstrous cock is put, and then participate in the pleasure
whole-heartedly, giving as much as she can, and cummmming with
her new lover, cummmming for him again and again until he has
had enough.

He takes her to the pile of cushions, and removes the rest of his
clothing so that he, like she, is nude. She wonders if this new
lover will want to spank her first- there is master’s leather
strop, hanging on a hook on the wall. Will he want to use this
on her, to demonstrate his total control? He does not. She
drops back on the cushions, thighs spread, ready to be pleasured
by him. He kneels before her, first giving her enticing, wet
pussy a deep tonguing kiss. She responds wildly, raising her
bottom up to meet him, throwing her legs up and back so they rest
on his shoulders. He raises his head, thrusts a finger into her
oily, juicy nest, withdraws that finger and searches for and
finds another orifice for it, thrusting it deep into her bottom.

She gasps. She knows that he will very quickly make her cumm for
the first time this evening- that she had practically but not
quite been there a number of times during the dance, and this
oral stimulation and anal stimulation she cannot resist. But not
yet. He moves his body forward so that his rigid cock is at her
outer portals. She will get, will need, no further foreplay.
Slowly, deeply, thickly, forcefully his rigid rod enters until
it’s entire depth is planted in her. It feels simply marvelous-
stretching her, filling her with true masochistic joy to be
impaled on this huge log of a cock in the presence of this very,
very interested audience. He strokes back and then forward
again- totally in control, setting the pace that pleases him
best. She feels waves of pleasure, consistently increasing in
amplitude, taking her with each slow stroke closer to some edge,
to some cliff over which she must soon plunge. She feels more
absolutely vanquished than ever before. And suddenly, she locks
her arms around his neck and says loudly for all to hear,
ooooooh,oooooo I’mcummmmmmmmmmmmmmminnnng!!!!”. Her new lover
beams, his macho self-esteem satisfied. He has conquered this
tigerish bitch. He has caught her, fucked her, made her respond
ecstatically and wildly, made her surrender totally her orgasm to
him. He feels as if he is ten feet tall, a giant, a hero. And
he is by no means through with her- a man of his experience and
stature and strength can do this for another hour, perhaps. He
continues the slow pace.

Though she has just cum, her arousal has really not diminished
at all. Her new lover is fucking her masterfully, slow, deep
powerful strokes, his finger still imbedded in her anus, keeping
time with the strokes of his cock. Never has she enjoyed fucking
so much as this instant, but at the moment she thinks how
dreadful it is to do this with people watching, how embarrassing,
how disgraceful, how utterly appalling, how dangerous, how
absolutely sensualistically marvelous!!.

And her thought goes to her master, who has orchestrated this
whole event, choreographed it, and she loves him for
understanding her so well, for analyzing her needs for sensation
and humiliation and having them satisfied. Her head turns, she
sees the audience watching, transfixed. The woman is obviously
aroused, her legs now spread, her crotch pointed towards Helen,
though she has her panty-hose on. They make eye contact. The
woman’s lips purse, making the sign of a kiss to Helen, and Helen
makes the response, her tongue emerging and making a licking
motion. Helen knows, absolutely knows, that when the others
leave, that lady will remain, those panty hose will come off, and
Helen will be treated to a closer sight of those female delights
and that Helen’s master will give her to a second lover tonight,
and at the thought, her body shakes and quivers as she goes
through the throes of a second orgasm.

Another hour passes. Two of the guests have left already. Paul
is now fully dressed, immaculate looking again. Helen knows that
he would like to see her again, but the understanding that she
has with her master prevents private contact. If he is to see
her, Tyrone will arrange it. He leaves. Helen has showered,
sipping a small glass of brandy, still nude but now relaxed.
Tyrone is not in sight, nor Amy.

Helen has a reflective pause, thinking of the evening and its
events. She has been, she thinks, spectacularly, forcefully
fucked. In public, so to speak, before an audience who saw every
facet of the engagement. Never before had she been as well
satisfied. Was it Paul- a man of obvious charm, potent physical
attraction for her, undeniable virility, spectacular sexual
technique. Or was it the circumstances, the erotic dance, the
public nudity, the outrageous exhibitionism. She simply did not
know which of these things, singly or in combination, had so done
her in. Paul’s massive dimensions were undoubtedly impressive-
bigger than she had ever had before, and perhaps that alone would
have satisfied her so well. Ladies, talking vulgarly, often say
that bigger is better, but that technique transcends everything.
If so, he would have been rated super-superior on both scores.
But she knew that his huge erection notwithstanding plus his
outstanding technique, a massive component, for her, of this
feeling of satisfaction was the awareness that all of this was
forbidden and dangerous, and therefore doubly delightful. And in
that same context, she knew that Tyrone’s rules or no, that she
would be seeing this Paul again. He did not know where to find
her? Well, perhaps, but she knew where to find him, and there
certainly was nothing that prevented her from initiating the
contact, if she chose to do so. Perhaps she would so choose.

A moment later, Amy appeared, with Tyrone. She was wearing a
revealing Teddy top that showed her sweet, sexy figure. They
joined Helen in a brandy. As it was designed, Amy was offered to
Helen, or perhaps vice versa. Amy has had definite lesbian
interests, so far unresolved. Tyrone, moving people as another
would move chess pieces, has put her in a situation offering the
maximum of temptation along with the maximum of opportunity.

Tyrone left the room, the ladies alone, sipping their respective
brandies, obviously very interested in each other. Helen is
bewildered. She has had sex, marvelous, successful sex tonight
that transcended all her earlier experiences, and here she was,
excited again, interested in seeing what made this Amy tick.
Their hands touched and in an instant, their lips- and then
deeply, their tongues.

In only a moment, Helen was on her knees before the enthralled
Amy, taking a closer look at those feminine charms earlier hinted
at, and now clearly displayed for her. She knew that Tyrone
expected that she would bury her face between these lovely
thighs. She very strongly thought that Amy also wanted exactly
that, though just now she does not know if Amy wanted to, was
ready to reciprocate. Helen’s lips worked their way down Amy’s
body- over little but very shapely breasts, offering sweet
sucking kisses to each nipple. Down across her tummy, paying a
salutation in passing to her naval. And across her curly black
triangle until, descending further, she found that sweet, creamy
moisture that she knew she would find, that little clit
protruding slightly and awaiting her nibbling kisses. And
immediately, Amy’s thighs clenched around Helen’s face, locking
her in a passionate grip. In only seconds, Amy cumms, sweetly,
quietly, but with great movement of her hips and bottom.

Helen relaxed, lying back nude, comfortable, wondering if Amy
will choose to return the compliment. And Amy, slowly, almost
haltingly at first, overcame her own natural shyness and explored
Helen’s body with lips and tongue, every crevice, every lovely
part until she brought Helen to yet another orgasm. And, of
course, Tyrone has returned- he stood in the doorway, silently,
approvingly, watching the love play between the two ladies, his
smile acknowledging the accomplishment of yet one more purpose of
his. He had invited Amy to an event that he thought would
stimulate her incredibly, and make her recognize her fantasies,
and then later would provide her the means of dealing with them,
of accomplishing them. This is Tyrone, a Mephistophilian
personality, ready to probe your desires and fantasies, demanding
that you satisfy them (more or less publically) in order better
to satisfy his own desires and fantasies. And are people happier
for having played Tyrone’s little games?

Just for the record, where was Herbert all this time? Well, he
regarded it as a marvelous opportunity for a bachelor trip
through Europe with an aged business colleague of his- a widower
of 67. This is something that they two had discussed frequently
in the past, something they felt they would one day do, but for
which they had never found the opportunity. This was the chance.

The gentlemen spent four delightful weeks carefully examining all
the gothic cathedrals in France, dined variously at elegant and
expensive restaurants and sometimes at simple local bistros,
sampled interesting and exotic vintages, stayed at grand hotels,
small inns and castles, looked at the Chateaux on the Loire,
went to Chartres and studied the historical architecture plus a
square mile or so of fabled stained glass windows, excursioned to
Brittany and saw Le Mont St Michael, went to Notre Dame (and
perhaps found the hunchback?) met two delightful elderly English
school teachers and took them to dinner, and for all I know, even
got lucky- I did not ask. When he returned, much refreshed and
rested and bubbling with a thousand stories, Herbert said that of
course me missed me while he was gone, but that there is much to
be said for an occasional separate vacation. He thinks that it
gives one a chance to study, to think. It cleans the mind and
gives one a clearer perspective of what things are all about.
Tyrone, hearing this somewhat later, laughingly agreed
absolutely. Sara says that the separate vacation idea is fine
for the wife, but her husband is damn well never going to go
without her. I believe her. It seems that she thinks that she
had better keep an eye on him.

So far as I am concerned, midnight came and the carriage turned
back into a pumpkin, as it always seems to do. King Tyrone was
deposed, relegated to the history books. He had been commanding.
He had been interesting and fascinating in his way. He had shown
a new path to be explored that at the time seemed dangerous but
like most strange new ground, could indeed be surmounted. Still,
it might be, should be regarded as an adventure experienced, a
lesson learned, a challenge successfully overcome. Perhaps, at
times, there had been, to some small degree, personal discomfort
or even embarrassment. Indeed. But that was yesterday. Today, it
was clearly time to move on.

has his face within reach. I kiss him, then swing around and, on hands

and knees, shove my ass in his face. He grabs my ass cheeks to hold me.

He sticks his tongue inside my pussy. Ooooooo. I flip over and bring

my knees way back. He leans over and starts licking my clit. And he

sticks a finger deep inside my pussy. The cheering is tremendous.

“Lock the Doors.” I hear someone say.

unbutton my blouse, I watch him. He is nodding and smiling to give me

support. Next my skirt. Oh shit. Pantyhose. Why didn’t he tell me?

I fake it by slithering around on my back. To save time, I pull my

panties off at the same time. My bare pussy is pointing right at him.

When my bra is off, I toss it to him. I know the song, and there is

lots of time left.

over and nods. Then we follow her to a table. She takes our order for

burgers and cokes. When she comes back, she gives me a 3×5 card with

the number 6 written on it. “Number 4″ a voice announces over the

microphone.

A young girl gets up from the table next to me, and gets on stage. She

is dressed in street clothes. She is nervous. The music starts. She

is getting undressed! Oooooo. Auditions. But she is not very good. I

can do better than that. She gets down to bra and panties, and she is

shaking. Real nervous. She takes her bra off, but can’t drop her arms

to show her tits. The music stops and she grabs her clothes. My date

is the only one that applauds her. Nice of him.

My childhood was not your normal, typical childhood. As most kids were
chumming around with others, I ended up spending most of my time at
home, or with my dad or uncles. Interestingly enough, I went a number
of times with my dad to his favorite hang-out; a friend of his operated
a gas station that was frequented by truckers. So, by the age of 13, I
had been exposed to every known word in the book, along with stealing
some glances at the magazines that they had there. Seemed like some of
them used used “F*ck” for every other word coming out of their mouths.
Needless to say, this left me with an idle curiousity of women as a
whole.

As I grew older, my dad started taking me on jobs with him; he ran an
air conditioning business on the side. One of his clients was the
apartment complex next to the high school I was going to. I’d go with
him on these jobs, helping him out with the ladders, installing Freon,
swapping out compressors, etc. Occasionally, we’d have to go into the
apartments to make sure that the air conditioner would kick on and cool
down the apartments.

Well, one day there was a problem with the air conditioner in apartment
#2301. Needless to say, since it was a saturday, I went with dad to
help him. We’d went to the apartment manager’s office to get the work
order, and then proceeded to the apartment. When we got there, we found
that there was a leak on the roof, and that it would require only a
small soldering job, along with filling up the unit with more Freon.
After doing this, we went down to the apartment itself, and knocked on
the door. A woman, I’d say in her late twenties, answered the door. We

told her that we had worked on the air conditioner, and wanted to check
to make sure that it was cooling her apartment. She invited us in, and
let us go to the thermostat. My dad started to play with the controls,
as I just scanned my eyes around the room. She seemed to be into
computers, and music (which was my pasttime; I was programming in three
different languages, and enjoyed computer music/synthesizers). We
started to get into a conversation, and then wouldn’t you know — dad
said all looked okay and that we should go. As we were leaving, the
girl gave me a slip of paper. Not thinking anything about it, I put
it into my pocket.

Later on that day, when I was at home and in my room, I started to empty
out my pockets. I came accross that piece of paper–it said that she
wanted me to call her and gave her phone number. Not knowing any
better, I went to the phone and dialed the number. After a few rings,
the phone was answered–it was that woman. “Yes, who is it?” she
asked–not thinking anything was wrong, I said it was the kid she gave
the note to earlier today; from the air conditioning job. All of a
sudden, her voice changed– she sounded mysterious. “I wanted to talk
more to you about things, but you had to go. Could you come over some
time so we could talk more?” I guess that I might have found a new
friend, so I said that I could ride my bike over. I told my parents
that I was going over to a friend’s house, and would be back later that
night.

When I got to the apartment complex, I found a place to store my bike
and lock it up. I went to the apartment, and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?,” I heard her call out. “It’s me, the kid you asked to come
over.” I heard her say “Come on in, and close the door. I’ll be out in
a second.” So, I entered the apartment and closed the door. She had on
some rather soft music and one of the lava lights going in the
background. I sat down on the couch and waited for her.

After a few minutes, she walked into the room. I was completely
shocked; I looked at her and saw a completely naked woman coming towards
me. I started to back away from her, on the couch. She looked at me,
and started to chuckle;”Well, what do you know — a virgin!”. I
cringed, not knowing what to do. “Please, lady — what do you want?”
My body was trembling at this point; it would be obvious to anyone.
“Relax, and calm down. I just wanted to show you how much I appreciated
our chat earlier today, and that I want to share myself with you…”

“But, I’ve never …,” the words comming out with a nervousness that I’d
never had before.

“Look, let me show you that it’s ok.” She took my hand and kissed the
fingers slowly, then guided it to her body. “This is a breast, and see
my erect nipples? Feel how soft and hard they are.” My hand was guided
around the mounds that i’d only seen in pictures. It felt so different,
so..so…well, I just couldn’t describe the difference in touch. She
moved my fingers onto her nipple, and started to lightly touch them with
my hand. “See what you do to me?,” she said in a low voice. ” I want
you to come here and kiss my breasts.” I was pulled towards her, my
head drawn to those lucious mounds. I started to kiss each one; in
doing so, i could hear her make different noises. “Suck on my nipples!”
she commanded, pressing my mouth onto one of the erect brown beauties.
I started to suck on it, ever so lightly. I wasn’t sure, but i
thought that i could taste something liquidy in my mouth that I was
unfamiliar with. I’m not sure why, but i started to slowly and gently
nibble on them also, as she held me close to her.

While I was doing this, I opened my eyes and found that i was looking
right into her “private” area. I’d never seen anything like it; she had
her pubic hair trimmed, exposing herself to my glances. I guess that
after a while, she knew that i was transfixed on something else. She
started to open her legs, to reveal her “womanhood” to me. Nothing in
the pictures that I’d seen earlier had a woman with her legs spread…I
was completely unprepared for this…

“Wait, now, I want to let you look at me…”, she motioned me away, as
she re-adjusted herself on the couch…

“This is my clitoris,” she pointed to me with her long fingers. “It’s
commonly referred to as a ‘clit’, and what is right below it is the
entrance to my vagina…also referred to as a ‘cunt’. I want you to
look at my clit now, and see what you have done to me.” She motioned me
towards her again, wanting my face to be in the area of her clit. “I
want you to kiss it, just as you did my nipples,” she said in a rather
low voice. I bent forward and kissed her clit, and the surrounding
areas..”Lick it!”, she ordered, as i was kissing her inner thighs.

My toungue started to move around, in circular motions, on her clit. It
tasted different, like nothing i’d had tasted before. While doing this,
i could hear her moan softly, but it increased in sound as i touched
various parts of her with my toungue. She pulled my head towards her,
demanding that I place my toungue in her cunt. I was in a fantasy
world, there was nothing else to do but comply. I could taste and feel
a whole different world, with my toungue probing around inside of her
cunt. Her moans became louder, and i could feel her body start to
tremble…All of a sudden, fluids started coming out of her cunt–i
jerked back not knowing what had happened…I could see her body
trembling, as she held herself and the fluids dripping from her body.

After a few moments, the trembling stopped, and I could see that she had
a smile on her face. I asked what had happened. She looked at me and
grinned; “You made me orgasm, or “cum”. It’s a very pleasurable state
to be in. I’ll show you what I mean, and then we can both “cum”
together.” She reached over to me and pulled the t-shirt over my head,
exposing my upper torso. “See, your’s gets hard too, and responds just
like mine”, as she bent over and started to lick and suck on my nipples.
A strange feeling was starting to come over me. I didn’t know what was
exactly happening to me. I could feel that my ‘thing’ was changing; it
was getting hard.

She noticed this, and made a comment of now taking off the rest of my
clothes. I wasn’t sure what to do, but after all-she did let me see
her body. So, I let her unzip my jeans, and pull them down. My ‘thing’
was starting to bounce a little, and i noticed a little wet spot on the
underware. She got on her knees and pulled down my underware, exposing
my ‘thing’ to the open air. “My, what a beautiful, large penis you
have. This is also called many things, but the most common are ‘rod’
and ‘dick’. I want to kiss it now.” She moved towards me, kissing my
throbbing ‘thing’, ahh rod, with her ruby lips. The next thing I knew,
she had placed most of my rod within her mouth, and started to suck on
it. I could feel her toungue circuling around the shaft, and tracing
itself up and down. My body started to shake; I found myself duplicating
her “moans” and didn’t know exactly why. She also started to fondle the
two mounds underneath my rod, touching them gently with her fingers.
I found that something was building up inside of me, and before I knew
it–I felt something coming out of my rod. I could hear her swallow
whatever it was; I never had this happen before to me.

After a few moments, the feeling subsided–no more gushing from my rod.
I looked down to her, and saw that she was smiling; something white was
dribbling from her mouth. “What happened?”, I wanted to know what just
occurred to me. She looked at me and said that I had climaxed/”cum”,
just like her. She also said that this was a first for her; not ever
having tasted a man’s semen (later to find out this was called other
things too…).

She noticed that I was still rigid. Looking at me, she asked if I’d
like to now find out what it was like to “cum” together. After all that
had happened so far, I figured what the heck — “Sure”.

She got up, and pulled me with her into her bedroom. She laid back on
the bed, and asked me to slowly lay on top of her. As I was doing this,
she grabbed my dick and placed it between the lips of her cunt. “Now,
push slowly, and come to me”, she asked. It felt as if I were entering
another world, with my rod slowly entering her moist, wet cunt. As I
was close to being all the way in, she wrapped her legs around my body
and pulled me in all the way. “God, you feel good!”, she cried out, as
I felt the tip of my rod hitting something inside of her. “Let’s get
used to each other for a while”, she moaned in a low voice. “Kiss me,
she asked”. So, as I started to kiss her cheek, she turned her head and
we kissed on the lips. After a few minutes, something strange was
happening; she started to enter and explore my mouth with her toungue.
It seemed pleasurable, so I started to respond likewise. Her legs
started to move, something on building up a rhythm method. I started to
match her movements, with that of my own. I could feel different things
happening to both her and myself–her body started to tremble as I was
feeling different things contracting around my dick.

After a few minutes, I found that we were both getting short of breath
and moaining…we were both reaching that climax stage. I began to emit
the jets of my ‘cum’ again; I guess this triggered something in her,
since she cried out “My GOD I’M CUMMING!!!”. Both of our bodies became
locked–fluids were flowing from the two of us and intermingling.
We were locked together for what seemed an eternity; finally, the
throbbing went away, and we both collapsed on the bed.

I opened my eyes after a few minutes, to look at this beautiful woman
who had introduced me to the knowledge of sexual pleasure. Her body was
magnificent, and I could only think of reaching over and kissing her
again, and fondling her breasts. I guess that the moment had broken by
the alarm clock that went off; I found that I was in my bed– it was
6:30 am and that I had to get ready for school…Oh well, another day
of the old grind, I guess. Maybe tonight I could dream about the girl’s
gym teacher???

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