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During the daytime the streets were like that of a ghost town, as
everybody remained inside with shades closed to beat the heat.
Air-conditioners became the number one most stolen item in the city,
beating out televisions by a wide margin. It made sense of a sort, after
all, you don’t even need to get inside the house to steal one. Many a
homeowner returned from work in the evening to find a large hole in the
wall where the family’s most cherished appliance once rested and
subsequently broke down in tears. However, the chief of police had a sudden
brainstorm that guaranteed a quick end to this new and despicable crime
wave. He promptly instructed all four hospitals in the Willyville area to
inform the police of any emergency room cases involving hernias or slipped
discs. When the anxious media questoned the chief of police on this new
tactic, he simply replied that the results so far were “interesting”.

In other news, weather forcaster Bob Katt had been suspended for
appearing on his show wearing boxer shorts, a tie, and nothing else. It
seems the building’s air-conditioning system had been stolen the previous
night (an impressive feat in itself, considering that the compressor alone
weighed half a ton) and Bob had refused to work in a suit in the stifling
heat. So he had walked into the studio, dressed only in his skivvies, and
up in front of the camera before any of the stunned studio crew could even
think of stopping him. Of course, it would have been very bad form to yank
him off the camera, so they simply let him do his broadcast. Once he was
finished he was greeted by a purple faced station manager. Despite the
indian pressure groups, Bob was still very popular in Willyville, so he was
not fired on the spot.

Instead, the station manager sent him on a long overdue vacation…

Saturday dawned bright, clear, and warm (surprise, surprise!). Harold
was up with the sun, mostly because he hadn’t slept at all the previous
night. His stomach was a tight little knot and his heart would not stop
pounding. He was having second thoughts about the party. Harold Sykes had
never been a party animal, and recent… events… had convinced him that
he would be very wise to stay away from certain segments of the human race
(read: female) for a long time to come. In fact, now that he thought about
it, he was rather frightened of them. After all, if he couldn’t keep Cindi
happy, would he be able to keep any woman happy? And there would be lots of
girls there, probably all laughing at him. Why go?

Then he thought about his depression of the last couple weeks. Tom had
a point: right or wrong, he had to do something.

Tom came by at 2:30 and picked Harold up. As they drove over to
Squirrel Heights, Tom did most of the talking. Harold had lapsed into a
moody silence, soaking up Tom’s words and saying almost something in
return. If Tom noticed, he didn’t show it as he kept up a steady monologue
all the way to the house.

The Squirrel Heights Boarding house was a dumpy three story affair
sitting in front of about two acres of worn out farmland. The place was run
by an aging ex-stockbroker named Michael Wilburn, who believed in free
expression of everything and threw wild parties as often as the house’s
budget would allow. Some of the parties were solely for the house’s
inhabitants, but most of them were for whoever wanted to come. Booze and
most kinds of drugs generally circulated freely, and Harold had heard
rumors even more outrageous than that. All in all, it was pretty
intimidating to an introvert like Harold, and as he stepped out of Tom’s
car and looked at the peeling gray mass of the boarding house looming over
him, and the virtual sea of cars surrounding it, he knew he had made a
mistake. He as much as said so to Tom, who ignored him completely.

The affair was already in progress, as he discovered when Tom led him
around the back of the house. There must have been almost a hundred people
there, engaged in all manner of outdoor activities. People everywhere,
talking, yelling, running, horsing around, just generally having a good
time. A table had been set up by the back door, and there was somebody
serving booze and food to an endlessly regenerating queue.

Harold looked around and noticed that Tom had abandoned him and was
nowhere in sight. For an instant he almost panicked and yelled for Tom,
then his rational mind took over. What’s your problem? it said. You’re an
adult, you don’t need a keeper.

So Harold decided to walk around and see what he could see.

In one corner a net had been set up for a vollyball game. There was a
team on each side, if a pushing, laughing, staggering group of people could
be called a team. Harold stood off to one side with a small group of
spectators and watched. All of a sudden his attention had been captured by
one particular member of one team.

She wasn’t tall, maybe five seven or so, buxom, and maybe a few pounds
overweight. Which, as far as Harold was concerned, made her all the more
nicely rounded. Her hair was blonde and fell down past her shoulders. Her
face was pretty, but not spectacularly so. What had really caught Harold’s
attention was what she was wearing, or, more to the point, not wearing. She
was dressed in frayed cutoff jeans that were so tight they had split along
the sides halfway up her hips, and a string bikini top that struggled
valiantly to hold up under the weight of enormous breasts. Harold glanced
around and saw that she had the attention of pretty much every man in the
crowd.

His heart fluttered as he watched her move, and he couldn’t help but
wonder what it would be like to take her to bed. He imagined her long hair
spread out over the pillow, glimmering faintly in the moonlight, those
magnificent breasts moving in slow liquid motion as she arched her back in
sheer pleasure, her frenzied gasps as she reached a sudden and powerful
orgasm…

Harold shook his head to clear it. Get real, he told himself. Someone
like that certainly already has a boyfriend, and even if she didn’t, why
should she be interested in somebody like him? He turned around and began
to make his way back towards the house.

Sudden catcalls and whistles made him turn around again. She was
sitting on the grass, apparently having just fallen. When she landed, the
overburdened top string of her bikini had given way, exposing her for all
the world to see.

He could not help but stare. Her nipples stood out hard, the aurioles
colored light rose pink. He ached to take them in his mouth, to feel their
soft but firm weight in his hands. Then he looked up and saw she was
staring directly at him.

He locked eyes with her and suddenly his face turned beet red. Why, he
didn’t know, because surely every other male here was staring and thinking
the same thoughts. She made no move to cover herself, she just sat there,
challenging him with her gaze.

Finally, Harold turned and pushed his way through the crowd. His heart
was pounding in his ears and his balls, denied their release, ached
miserably. He still had a raging hard-on and kept his hands in his pockets
to conceal it. He felt sick, and ashamed. And he wanted to leave this
instant.

But that stare kept coming back to him. On reflection, he felt there
was more than just a challenge in her eyes. What, he didn’t know, but he
somehow knew it. It was almost as if a spark had passed between them.
Undoubtedly it was just his overworked imagination, but…

He felt as if she wanted him, too.

Day gave way to night, as days usually do, and slowly Willyville began
to cool off. People moved out of their stifling houses (except for those
who hadn’t had their air-conditioning stolen yet) and into their back
yards. They brought TV trays, TV’s, barbecues, bedrolls, and just generally
prepared to enjoy the night in relative coolness.

All over Willyville the night was alive with the sound of voices,
televisions, stereos, lustful moans and the other noises of humans enjoying
themselves outdoors. With one exception. In Squirrel Heights, all was
quiet. The place seemed deserted, in fact. Virtually all human life in the
area had gravitated to one spot. At the Squirrel Heights boarding house,
when night fell, the real party began…

Harold Sykes hadn’t left the party like he planned, although he came
awful damn close to doing so when he spotted Cindi in the crowd. But, in
the end, the thought of going back to his lonely, empty, stuffy house was
just too much. So instead he wandered around the yard, just watching the
extraordinary panorama of human activity taking place before him.

Eventually he found a peaceful spot on the back porch where he just
sat and watched the sun set. Tom came by and asked him how he was doing.

“Better.” sighed Harold, “I really feel better.”

Tom gave him a wink. “You may be feeling better than that before the
night’s over, old buddy.” and sauntered off before Harold could say
anything.

Now what was that supposed to mean?

As it got dark, the party outside thinned out. A few left, spinning
their wheels in the gravel lot out front, but most just went inside the
house. Probably gonna booze it up good, Harold thought, Although it looked
to him like they had been boozing more than adequetely already. Harold
didn’t feel like drinking very much, especially after his binge the other
day. Drugs didn’t hold much of an attraction for him, either. Just sitting
there, alone with his thoughts, seemed to do quite a bit for him.

Eventually he awoke from his musings and was startled to find he was
alone. With a sigh he got up and went in through the back door.

The back hallway was unlit. There was the low murmur of voices and
music coming from somewhere ahead. He could make out dim light from around
a corner in the distance. Cautiously he made his way down the hallway,
hoping nothing solid was in the way of his shins.

Eventually he made his way to the light, and when he turned the corner
he recieved the shock of his life.

The front room was spacious and poorly lit. But the light was more
than adequete for Harold to see what was going on. There was about twenty
to thirty people sprawled about the room, all naked, contorted in every
kind of sexual position imaginable. And a couple that weren’t imaginable.

Harold could only stare dumbly. The floor was almost lost amongst the
moving, writhing bodies. There were six people on the couch, in some
bizarre group contortion that made them look like something from another
planet. One man sat moaning softly in an easy chair with a hard-on that
Harold would have sworn was twelve inches long, at least. He watched in
total amazement as all twelve inches dissappeared into the mouth of the
co-ed sitting on the floor between the man’s feet.

The blonde he had seen earlier was conspicuously absent.

He heard creaking above him, and he looked up. In the rafters, some
twelve feet above, a rope and pully setup had been arranged with a large
wicker basket. Three people were in the basket, which swung back and forth
alarmingly. Harold quickly moved several feet over, out from under the
setup.

His head was spinning. His experience with sex had always been
limited, and now he was confronted with a full-fledged orgy. It was too
much. He didn’t want any part of this. All he wanted was out.
Watching his step carefully, he made his way for the nearest door. He
was almost there when he saw the one thing he *knew* he didn’t want to
see.

There was a clear spot at the far end of the room. Only two people
were there, a man flat on his back with a woman sitting astride his hips,
moving up and down in sensuous rhythem. He didn’t know who the guy was but
he knew the girl. Cindi. Pain that had been mercifully submerged now rose
to stab arrowlike into his guts. Cindi turned her head at that instant and
their eyes met. Instant recognition and something spiteful and unpleasant
glittered in her eyes for a brief second, and then she turned her attention
back to what she was doing. Her movements became more frantic, and her
moans much louder, exaggerating as much as possible.

Her parting words rang in his mind: “I want a man, dammit!” Well,
fine. All Harold wanted was out. He averted his eyes and ran blindly
towards the closest exit. He stumbled over one couple on the way (startling
them into a premature orgasm) and mumbled apologies as he kept going.

Then he was in a hallway, but not the one he had come from. Doors
lined the hall on both sides. He grabbed one and pulled it open, only to be
rewarded with several outraged yells. Redfaced and near tears from
embarassment, he pulled the door shut and looked around desperately. And
empty room, anything, just so he could get out of sight and get his
thoughts together. If he didn’t do it quick, he feared he might lost his
mind. He had to get away, somehow!

There, at the end of the hall. An open door, the room dark within. He
paused at the doorway for a second, but could detect no movement within.
Empty, thank God! He slammed the door shut behind him and let the blackness
envelop him as he sank to the floor with a hoarse sob. He lay in a heap for
who knew how long before he finally calmed down.

His heart gave a sudden leap as he somehow realized, in the total
darkness, that that the room wasn’t empty after all. After a long moment,
he finally summoned up a weak voice. “Who’s there?”

There was a longer silence, and he almost began to hope he was alone
after all, when a soft voice answered “Are you all right?”

Fuck NO! I ain’t all right, you stupid… But Harold controlled
himself before replying, “I will be, eventually. In about fifty years or
so.” He hesitated before the next question, “Are you, um, alone?”

“Yeah.” she replied, “I just wanted to be by myself. I kinda outgrew
the scene out front a long time ago. All the interesting guys already have
somebody. There was one guy, but I think he went home or something.”

Harold got up, a little unsteadily “I’m sorry. Sorry I barged in on
you. I’ll leave now.”

“Please, don’t.” she said, “Unless you really need to. I think we
could both use someone to talk to.”

Harold sat back down against the wall with a weary sigh. “Sure, why
not?” After a silent moment, he continued, “Would you mind turning on a
light? I’d like to see who I’m talking to.”

“Well,” she began doubtfully, “you may feel more comfortable without
the light, but if you insist…” There was a click and a flare of light
exploded into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. When he could open his
eyes, he recieved the last shock of a very long day.

Standing by a lamp on the dresser was the blonde from the vollyball
game, still dressed in the frayed shorts but minus the bikini top, which
lay discarded on the bed. She had her eyes screwed shut against the light,
opening them a moment later.

“Oh! It’s you!”

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Fundament Fundamentals

Ass is magic. The lush roundness, the curves . . . The Curve.

That most elegant and sensual of all geometric shapes — the

vertically split oval, the inverted catenary, the upside-down heart.

The ass. It releases nauseating, evil-smelling waste and emits

noxious gas . . . it’s the exit passage for lumps of shit and

rotten-smelling farts. It’s the symbol of all that is unclean. And

yet, by some strange alchemy, it becomes the most highly-charged

and sensual body part. It’s an obsession, a ruling passion, a

crystallization of purpose.

Remember how weird and disgusting even the plain vanilla sex act

seemed when you first learned about it at age 10? Well, anal sex was

even more disgusting when you found out about *that*. “Cornholing,

that’s what queers do when they have sex. One guy sticks his dick

into the other guy’s asshole and fucks him up his shit tube.” That

image haunted you for years. Even the word “corn” conjured up demons.

The very idea of fucking an ass is explosive. Forbidden fruit. It’s

perverted. It’s nauseating. It’s magnificent. Vaginal sex is, at best,

a pale imitation.

The higher the barrier, the more difficult the passage, the stronger

the resistance, the stickier the lock — the more explosive the

energy release when you break through.

The ass is the entrance to the Mysteries. Just insert yourself

into the keyhole and plunge. Open the door. Enter the chamber of

hidden delights. Welcome to a higher order of existence.

——————————————————————-

Val’s next girlfriend, happily, was into ass play. (He had made damn

certain of that before they got too deeply involved.) It didn’t take

much persuasion for her to try anal. Their first attempt was rather

pathetic in its clumsiness and not much fun for either of them. Too eager,

too impatient . . . he had pushed too hard trying to get into her back

passage. Too little lube. She was too dry and it hurt a bit. He came

while still stuck fast in her outer ring.

Marsha took him firmly in hand after that. She had done some reading

and judicious asking on the methods and techniques of ass fucking.

“Val, dear Val. Let me guide you through this. You’ll do it exactly as

I say, and you’ll be patient, too . . . or I’ll chop off your . . .

“First, we need a higher quality grade of lube. Not that cheap shit you

got at the corner drugstore. And we won’t skimp on it, either.

“Next, you’ll turn me on with pussy stroking and clit sucking before

I let you anywhere near my asshole. Make me come once or twice. Three

times is even better.

“Finally, listen. Listen to me. Me! The boss. When I’m ready to let you

stick anything into my ass, I’ll let you know loud and clear.

“Yes! That’s good. I’m going to lean forward and bend over those pillows

and stick my ass into the air. It’ll be totally open to you.

“All right. Prepare me with a finger inside, and plenty of lube on it,

don’t forget. Now two fingers. Twirl them around. Stretch me. Loosen me

up. Lube me up inside. Now lube yourself up. Slather it on. Get ready

to slide in now. Ready?”

Boy, was he ever. He positioned himself at the entrance to her ass and

pressed forward gently. The dick head slowly disappeared, and with a sort

of liquid pop, he was past the entrance. There was almost no resistance

now, and he slowly slid in deeper. Inch by inch, his shaft submerged

into her darkness. The front of his thighs bumped against the curve of

…End of the part1. To be continued..

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“Unh-uh. Not so fast babe. Remember those contracts you signed? You want me
to sue your ass off? Looks to me like you don’t even have enough money for
a lawyer.”

Damn! He tricked you. It’s not fair! But you don’t know what to do. He’s
right, you can’t afford lunch, much less a lawyer. So you decide there’s
nothing you really can do. You don’t want to go to jail.

“Ok. What do I have to do to get them back?”

“Just come here and let me be nice to you,” he says, grinning.

You walk over to him, and he again puts his arms around your waist. Only
this time, his hands fall on your ass, giving it a squeeze. You just stand
there. He tells you if you aren’t going to be happy about it, it’s not
worth doing, and he’ll just go call the lawyers. So you decide that as long
as you are going to have to do it, you might as well enjoy it.

He holds you tight, and starts kissing you on the mouth, putting his tongue
in between your teeth. You push back, and swirl yours against him. You feel
him pressing his hardening cock against your skirt, rubbing up and down
against your pubic bone.

He takes your hand and puts it on his cock, through his pants. It feels
big, but you don’t let him know you think so. You’ll play along, but you
aren’t going to give him the idea he’s the best. You figure the best way to
get back at him is to pretend you are the greatest lover in the world, and
he is merely a little boy trying to live in a man’s body. You’ll show him
he’s just a kid.

He puts his hands on your shoulders and pushes you to the floor. After
pushing his jacket out of the way, you unzip his fly, reach in, and pull
out his cock. No underwear, you notice. It’s not huge, but it’s not too
small either. He tells you to be nice to it, and kiss it. Instead, you open
your mouth and shove it way inside. It’s still only partially hard, so it
slides all the way in with no problem. You don’t even gag a little. You
feel the head hitting where your tonsils used to be, and it feels pretty
good. You start to suck on him, flexing your throat muscles around his
shaft, squeezing the length of him. He moans, and pushes his hips against
your face.

After sucking him to his full length, you slip his cock from your mouth,
taking a long time to get it all the way out. He picks you up and drops you
unceremoniously on the couch, making your skirt rise up above your pussy.

He comes over and peels your underwear off (you are wearing no stockings.
Too hot), and unzips the skirt. He takes it off, and throws it behind him.
Then he drops his head between your legs, and starts nibbling on your inner
thighs. Your clit starts to tingle, but you show no sign. He licks up and
down the inside of both thighs before kissing your pussy lips ever so
gently. You feel your clit growing. Oh fuck, you decide. Might as well
enjoy it. So your open your legs wide, and reach down to hold your cunt
open. He takes the the opportunity and delves his tongue deep into your
pussy, licking at the sweet, semi-sticky juices already forming there. Your
start to rub your clit as he mouth fucks your cunt. It has grown to it’s
3/4 inch full length by now, and he moves your hands to suck it. He licks
around it, across it, and rubs his teeth against it. Ooh, it feels good.
It’s been a LONG time since anyone ate you. You squeeze your thighs against
his head, and pull him in tighter. He goes back to licking your slit, and
then pushes a finger into you. You feel it squirming around inside you, and
you start pressing your hips against it. He turns around and gets on top of
you, putting his cock back into your mouth. So THIS is a 69, you think.
Never having done it before, you decide you need to explore more. You start
taking long strokes on his cock, sucking it all the way in, drawing it out
to the head, and then shoving it in again. He is still licking your clit.

He moves and take his hand out of your pussy and replaces it with his
tongue. Then you feel a pressure against your ass. Oh no! He’s not going to
do that, is he? You squeeze your ass, so he can’t get in. He pushes harder
and tells you to relax. Eventually you do, and you feel his finger slip
into your ass. At the same time he pushes his tongue into you as far as he
can get it, and you can feel his finger against his tongue, barely
separated by your pussy walls. You suck him harder, start moving his hips
up and down faster, and feel his balls tighten. You start bucking your hips
against his mouth and hands, and he moans.

He starts shooting his cum into you, and that sets you off, making you come
all over his tongue. You drink him down, swallowing the sweetness of his
cum. Drinking it all in, you don’t miss a drop. You relax as your a orgasm
subsides and brings you back to Earth.

After getting off of you, he asks if you still want your contract back. You
decide “No. I think I’ll try this line of work for awhile. When’s my first
job?”

A young girl asked her mother “Mommy, do you get into heaven feet first?”

“I don’t know, why do you ask?”

“Because the maid’s upstairs with her feet in the air, shouting `God, I’m
coming, God, I’m coming,’ but dad’s on top and won’t let her go.”

–

I wrote this because of the last story I posted,
“In HOT Pursuit of Safe Sex” which brought me over 20
letters saying to keep up the good work. Again, the story
posted has no sex in it but the word sexual is used 6 times,
the word sex twice, intercouse once, “making love” twice,
kiss twice, breast once and lesbian twice.

In all Fairness, J. David Narkiewicz

Every other college student in the greater D.C. area was
trying to get an internship with a member of Congress. There were
three ways to get such a position: have a well connected family,
pick up the soap in the congressman’s shower or stick your nose in
a place I found olfactorily repulsive. Besides, interning paid
crap compared to other government jobs. I’d set my sights on
Custodial Assistant at the Capitol Building, search number
A8042299625.

I’d decided a suit was not in order for my interview, but I
did go with a shirt and tie. As I’d been instructed when informed
of my interview, I walked through the gardens at the back of the
Capital Building until I reached the East door. It was opened
before I could ring the bell. I was greeted by three rather large
men in suits complete with little microphones in their ears and
conspicuous bulges under their arm pits.

“Clark Thomas?” asked the tall black man who, amongst the
three, seemed to be in charge.

“Yes,” I stammered, feeling just a tad intimidated by the
not-so-Secret Service.

“Identification,” he demanded and I provided in triplicate.
I was photographed, finger printed, metal detected and thankfully
not cavity searched — no job was worth that. With a visitor’s
pass clipped to my shirt pocket, I was personally guided to my
destination by two football types also draped in suits and wearing
sun glasses even though they were indoors. They grunted for me to
proceed through a set of huge double doors.

My fantasy of being interviewed in a decrepit boiler room by
an old codger with the name “Bubba” sewn on his shirt were
quickly dispelled. There were no less than ten people sitting at
a large wooden table, all ready to interview me. Counting the
camera man and the stenographer, complete with mysterious
stenographer type machine, I felt like Christ at the last supper.
The difference here — aside from the fact that I didn’t have a
sixties lack-of-a-haircut and wasn’t wearing a toga — was that eight
of the disciples were female. They all sat at the table and had that
“send chills down your spine” look I commonly attribute solely to
militant lesbians.

I stood there until the blue-rinse woman sitting in the middle
of the table spoke into her mike, “Good Morning, Mr. Thomas.
Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

I caught myself looking around behind me in search of my
father, Mr. Thomas. Left with no one else to blame, I sat down at
a table of my own. For comfort they’d provided a pitcher of water
and two glasses — I was feeling more comfortable already.

With camera rolling and stenographer typing away, the blue-rinsed
woman, Congress woman Katrina “Kat” Schroeder, started with
my birth and asked me every conceivable question about my life. It
got weird when she reached the part about the eighth grade dance.
“Did you take one Kimberly Campbell to your eighth grade dance
when you were thirteen?”

“Yes, I did, ma’am.” I had no idea how any of this would
make me a better broom pusher, but bureaucracy was not to be
trifled with, especially at the federal level.

“During the course of the evening, did you say, and I quote
`I guess it was a date. That means we’re supposed to kiss good
night.’”

I just stared at her completely bewildered. Schroeder didn’t take
that as a response. “Answer the questions, please,” she said.

“I guess I did,” I stumbled. That was seven years ago, as
if I’d remember exactly what I’d said.

“Ha!” she screeched causing one of my glasses to
shatter. “So you confess to making sexual advances towards a
thirteen year old girl.” The other women at the table all nodded
in agreement and murmured like an impassioned lynch mob. Out of
desperation, I turned to one of the men at the table hoping for a
glimmer of support. It was only then that I recognized him as Ned
“pants-around-the-ankles” Kennedy. Since this had nothing to do
with a Congressional pay raise, he was staring at the ceiling doing
his best to ignore me.

Kat Schroeder had finished and promptly introduced, the right
honorable Anita Quill, Congresswoman and legal scholar from
Oklahoma. She was one of those fat, intimidate you with her
breath, black women. At the snap of her sweaty black fingers an
intern-type entered the room carrying a sheet of paper. It was deposited
on my desk. From the way the intern walked, I could tell he was a
type 2 intern.

Congresswoman Quill said, “Please, read the following letter.
It shall be entered into the record as Piece of Evidence 94.”
Pieces of Evidence 1 through 93 were such epic and incriminating
documents as my kindergarten report card which stated I worked and
played well with others and a detention I’d received in tenth grade
for not having my Spanish book covered –Muchas gracias para nada,
Meastro Stewart.

As I read Piece of Evidence 94, I could feel my face turning
red. This document dated back to when I worked as a volunteer
during the last presidential campaign. “Did you read the
letter?” demanded Congresswoman Quill.

“Yes, I did, Congresswoman.”

“That’s Congressperson,” she corrected.

Under my breath, I said, “If your ass were any tighter, you could
use it to turn a piece of coal into a diamond?” Of course, since there
was a microphone in front of me, the whisper became a shout and echoed
from every corner of the room. “diamond, diamond, diamond…”

The congressperson just glared and asked, “Were you the
author of this letter?”

I’d long since given up on getting the job, but still,
this was a question I’d gladly dodge. “Well, the signature
isn’t mine.” It certainly wasn’t. The letter was written on
stationary liberated from the presidential candidate I’d worked for.
It was a form letter of sorts, blank save for the pre-printed
closing at the bottom complete with “God Bless,” and the candidate’s
signature.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Ms. Quill retorted.
“Maybe I should refresh your memory.” She put her librarian
glasses on, picked up the letter and began reading:

Dear Ms. Travis,

Knowing that I surely enjoy your support in the upcoming
election, I’d like to bring your attention to another issue of dire
importance. A campaign worker of mine, one Mr. Clark Thomas, has
been without your romantic companionship since you began your
…End of the part1. To be continued..

We were attired as typical tourists: they were in swim wear; I was
wearing a flat Bahamian straw hat, aloha shirt and walking shorts, and Ellen
was attired in a white sundress with a broad yellow ribbon tied into a
headband around her black hair. Now, as Ellen laughed at a joke, the ribbon’s
long ends were flapping about in the warm breeze. It was difficult making
conversation above the pounding surf and whistling wind.

Jeff, a brawny six-foot-plus with a booming voice, leaned across the
table and asked, “You here in a boat?” His reddish hair was tousled by the
breeze. His stunning blond wife, Virginia, was leaning back in a sun-chair,
which squeaked as she fidgeted and appraised us.

“We flew over,” I told him. Two years before, we’d been here in our
twenty-foot boat. A troublesome storm convinced me I’d never take anyone
else in a small craft, so this time we’d flown commercial, as we have each
time since. “We’re checked in at the hotel.”

Jeff gulped his drink, gestured toward the distant docks, and murmured,
“We’re staying at the marina. They charge an arm and a leg to hook up to
electricity over there. We’re down here from Texas. Where you from?” When I
told him, he responded, “Yeah, well your state’s doing a lot better than mine.
You have Disney World and a state lottery. We have these closed down oil
wells and one hell of a lot of empty offices. We’re thinking of moving to
Florida.”

I grinned, “Doesn’t make Floridians too happy to hear that. Too many
people coming in now. I tell people who’re thinking of moving there that
alligators come out of the lakes at night and drag away little babies.” He and
Virginia chuckled.

Ellen’s a natural conversationalist, but now she was particularly
animated; she’d won them over. Jeff invited us for a tour on their sloop to an
out-island. We declined, explaining that we’d made reservations for an early
dinner at a local calypso club, so Jeff offered, “O-kay, what if we make it an
evening trip, around 7, 7:30? Think you could make that, ol’ buddy?”

I was considering it when Ellen grabbed my arm and blurted, “Come ON,
Bill, let’s DO it!” Turning to Jeff and Virginia, she smiled, “Takes him
forever to make changes in plans!”

I grinned, “Sounds like a great idea.”

That evening, over dinner, Ellen admitted her excitement. I’d noticed her
observing Jeff’s handsome, muscular features at the cabana. She remarked, “I
think they have MORE than just a tour in mind. We’ll see.” We skipped the
floorshow, donned our swim suits in the hotel room, and walked down to the
harbor where Jeff’s 38-foot sloop bobbed amid a line of boats at the unpainted
docks.

Virginia was tossing crumbs at a flock of seagulls swooping and
squawking around her. Jeff looked up from his blue canvas deck chair and
acknowledged,”You’re right on time.” He cast off as soon as we climbed aboard.
The Atlantic was now red beneath the setting sun. I noticed Ellen and Bill
stealing glances at the other now and then, until finally, they were openly
staring. When she turned away, Jeff gazed at her long legs and full,
half-exposed breasts thrusting out beneath the one-piece black suit, completely
bare on the sides except for four thin black ribbons on each side securing the
front and back.

By the time Jeff cut the engines, a half mile from the island, stars were
blinking like diamonds on black velvet. This close to the island, the five-
foot waves we’d plowed through most of the way had calmed. The waters’
crests, silver beneath the moonlight, softly slapped against the hull. The sloop
rocked gently as Virginia and Ellen clambered up the galley stairs to the
deck. Jeff anchored as we stared at the scene off the bow. Beneath the puffs
of gleaming clouds, the island seemed to float on the midnight-blue waters.

Virginia stood on her toes, stretching her arms, as she said, “This
breeze is wonderful!” She casually reached to unhook the top to her red and
white striped bikini; that isn’t unusual for boaters when the sun’s up, but
this was night. Ellen smiled as if to say, “I told you so.” I stared at
Virginia’s breasts, firmed by exercize. Her legs were as long and well-formed
as Ellen’s. She stretched again, her blond hair blowing in the soft warm
gusts. Outlined by the Bahamian moon, she looked like a goddess.

So Ellen slipped out of her suit. She stood nude alongside Virginia, who
turned to evaluate the similarity of their figures; “You’re beautiful,” she
told Ellen, staring down at Ellen’s shaved mound. The contrast between
Virginia, the half-nude blond, and Ellen, the nude brunette, was stunning.

Jeff’s engorged manhood had been evident even before then. But now,
appraising them, he smiled, turning to me as he whispered, “Are you two
swingers? You see, Virginia isn’t, but she’s a ‘watcher,’ and if you are,
we’re interested.” Then, he added, as if I might misunderstand, “I mean I’m
straight, not gay.”

I grinned, almost laughing. I could hardly wait for his reaction when I
told him, “Actually, Jeff, I’m a watcher too. Think Virginia would be jealous
if she saw you with Ellen, while your wife and I watched?”

When we told Ellen and Virginia, the coincidence seemed neither as
humorous nor as surprising to them as I thought it was. I learned later that
Jeff and Virginia had met many other agreeable couples during their travels.

We made small talk as if no one had mentioned “watching.” Ellen stared
at Jeff’s face and body, occasionally looking down at Jeff’s penis bulging
beneath his red biniki trunks. Under a pretense that we going down the stairs
to turn on the stereo, we made our way down to the dimness of the sleeping
quarters where moonlight streamed through a line of portholes. Virginia and I
stood in the doorway. Jeff and Ellen sat on the bunk, looking through compact
disks, selected one, and inserted it into the overhead stereo as Virginia poured
wine. When Ellen passed a wine glass to Jeff, their hands brushed. I could
almost feel the electricity as their eyes locked. Ellen’s soft breasts heaved.
Setting aside the glass on a bunkside table, Jeff leaned to kiss her neck,
moving down to her breasts. She moaned lowly, her lips trembling.

Virginia nuzzled her breasts against my side as I put my arm around her.
Leaning into the doorjam, we gaped, breathing heavily. Jeff and Ellen melded
in a deep kiss, their arms entertwined. Ellen’s hips rotated softly in desire as
she lay alongside Jeff. Virginia looked up at me, her lips trembling, her blue
eyes wild with passion, as she muttered, “God, aren’t they beautiful?” I
agreed, my shaft swelling beneath my trunks. Ellen, her nipples taut,
disengaged to slide to floor on her knees. Her lips grazed his thighs. Gulping,
as if in fear, she took Jeff’s long, raging cock in her mouth. He closed his
eyes, groaning, as her full, pale lips slid over his glistening member. Tears of
passion welled in Ellen’s eyes as she moaned. Her tongue and slender fingers
glided along his dark rubbery shaft.

Now, as Virginia peeled off her bottoms, her hand was massaging her
clitoris. I slipped out of my trunks as I stroked my hardness. Virginia pressed
against me. I slithered an arm around her, cupping a breast, her nipple
standing out like a spike through my fingers. Ellen’s eyes were now wide with
passion as he thrust into her greedy mouth. The intensity of their tempo
increased. Ellen moaned in rapture. His cock had ballooned to massive
proportions, straining her lips as she whimpered.

Withdrawing from her mouth, Jeff lifted her to the bunk beneath a line
of portholes. He kneeled on the floor between her long legs, kissing her
shaved mound. Ellen wailed in desire! Her hips gyrated beneath his tongue’s
manipulations. Her body quaking, she locked her thighs about his head, lost in
their own distant universe of adulterous passion. The smell of their lust
permeated the warm night air.

Virginia placed her arms around my waist, her hips grinding her clitoris
against my leg. “They’re so beautiful,” she breathed ecstatically. She looked
down, her lips trembling as I pumped my shaft.

Jeff’s strong arms enveloped Ellen’s quivering body. He hovered above her
splayed legs, his shaft swaying above her pussy which was quivering up to
touch it. Her lips were parted, her eyes wild and fearful of his large
instrument pushing apart her vaginal folds. She wrapped her legs around his
hips, drawing him deeply within, and yelled out in painful pleasure. Her
vagina was stretching to accommodate his large tool. They shared a sigh as he
buried his full length.

Whimpering, Ellen turned to watch us. Virginia had grasped my cock and
was stroking it as I squeezed the fullness of her breasts. The sight drove Ellen
into ecstasy as her arms enveloped Jeff. She bucked against him, meeting every
thrust into her steaming cave. Virginia’s nostrils flared, her breath huffing,
her mouth open in wild desire. I felt a kinship with Virginia as we watched
our respective mates, united in sin, her husband’s cock plunging into my wife’s
vagina; she mewed, “Oh, god, Bill, don’t you FEEL it happening BETWEEN
them, between US?”

And, yes, I did. Virginia’s soft fist pumped my shaft as she grinded her
blond mound against my leg. Her lips brushed my neck and ears.

Ellen’s head thrashed from side to side, her wide eyes rolling as Jeff’s
thickness filled her. She wailed as her tremoring arms encircled his neck, her
hips lifting to meet her lover’s. Her groin swirled beneath his fervid fucking
as she threw back her head, pleading for him not to stop. His jaw slackened
as he stared down at her, his eyes glazed with lust. Then, Ellen screamed, “Oh
GOD Jeff, I’m going to COME! Please come WITH me!” She mewed helplessly,
her body shivering with the building climax.

Virginia’s hand pumped furiously as she looked up to me, parting her lips.
We kissed deeply. Everyone was moaning, sharing the climactic thunder that
was engulfing us in an emotional hurricane.

At the last moment, Virginia spread her long, taut legs, guiding my cock
into her creaming depths. She screamed in pleasure. Then it happened, the
sexual energy crackling throughout the cabin! I exploded as everyone was
wailing; Ellen and Virginia were crying and writhing madly. Virginia fell to her
knees, taking my length deeply into her mouth. Ellen and Jeff now turned on
their stomachs to watch as Virgina brought me again to hardness, her hair
tossing as her lips slid along my full length. I’d lost track of time until my
semen burst into Virginia’s throat. Ellen and Jeff were applauding. Virginia
bumped to the floor, her arms around my knees, as we turned to look at our
spouses on the bunk. They were laughing.

That was the only time that either Virginia or I had experienced even
that slight an adultery with anyone. Neither of us were sure our spouses truly
understood, but what we had was just perfect.

A Users Manual From The
Computer Relations Institute

The following manual is provided as an aid to those open
minded adults wishing to achieve a more fulfilling and
meaningful relationship with their UNIX computer.
WARNING!!: Do not attempt the more difficult positions
immediately! Start with the simple relationships and work
your way up, or damage to the operator and/or terminal may
result!

LOGON

As in all relationships, you must start by approaching the
terminal and making some small talk. In computer
terminology, this is referred to as “logging on”. It is,
however, just a highly evolved form of foreplay (much like
the singles bar scene). If the computer is receptive to
your advancement (hey what is your sign? #grep
/etc/passwd), then it will respond by asking for a
password. This is the computer’s way of weeding out the
nerds before verifiably engaging in any relationship. It
also sets the term for the give-and-take interrelationship
to follow. If this condition of foreplay is successful, the
user is allowed to “access the computer”. Once this is
past, the user and the computer are ready to network in
some serious entanglements.

CHECK-IN WITH DOT

The computer has a vast and ponderous knowledge that may be
accessed by the temporal user (it’s “been around”). To
decide just what form of relationship will develop, the
computer kindly produces a $ prompt, which evokes the
terminal user to fork up an appropriate response and press
the ENTER key (more about entering later!). How much the $
expects is dependant upon Dot Profile. Everyone knows Dot
don’t they? Dot’s gotta hold on you where you live! Without
Dot’s help you could be awking off in the corner! Dot’s got
your mail! Dot’s got your history for the last several
transgressions, so you’d better be sure Dot is taken care
of properly at the $ prompt. No short changing here! If you
do short the Dot, you’ll be seeing it on the front page of
your news_rc

PROGRAM ACCESS

Ah! The fun part! Most programs require a lot of entering.
Care has to be taken here not to enter the wrong thing in
the wrong place! NOTE: You may find your self entering
repeatedly to achieve any degree of success. You may enter
as hard (often stated “strike any key”) and as fast as you
like, but like any sensitive partner, please be aware of
the computer’s feelings. Automation and modern technology
have produced the most advanced of all partners our multi-
user, multi-tasking environment. (Wouldn’t it be nice if you
could multi-user without fear of catching something,
including bullets.)

PROFICIENCY

The system, if properly approached, will respond almost
instantly and openly to user advances. (Dinner, dancing and
a show aren’t even needed.) As you improve you may even be
able to experience multiple relationships per day. Just
work your way up slowly. (Be careful, you are beginning to
sweat on the keys!)

EXITING

After accessing your favorite program and dwelling on all
the earthly delights available from the depths of the
system, it will soon become time for the climactic end of
the session. This step has been automated to allow the
users to take full advantage of their passions. The system
will be ready to get off any time the user so desires. No
more trying to time things just right! The user types EXIT
and enters for the final time. The computer responds
instantly, and with much relief and gratification, the user
is thrust out, finished and spent from passionate endeavors
in the exiting world of computer relationships. The only
thing that seems a bit unfair is that the computer
immediately begins to invite another LOGON!!

CONSEQUENCES

As in any highly developed personal relationship, certain
responsibilities and consequences exist. Privacy,
especially in multi-user scenarios is non-existent! There
are more ways to see what the user is doing and has done
than you would expect. PID (not pelvic inflammatory
disease) can generate child processes which will then spawn
PPIDs and so on. The awesomeness of the birthing of child
processes can occasionally be interrupted. The cause of
these birth defects is sometimes predictable, and sometimes
cannot be explained, and you wind up with a core dump right
in the middle of your directory! HONESTLY! There are proper
places for dumping. Thankfully, cores don’t smell.

Interruptus and aborting of processes are frowned upon by
the local right-to-life movement. However, the system
doesn’t seem to be at all distressed by multiple interrupts
and aborts. Sometimes its helpful in keeping the process
population from getting out of hand and into the system.

MORE ON MULTI-USER

The computer is the most versatile of all partners. For
those operators who have advanced beyond the one-on-one
scene, the computer is open to many variations. It is
capable of having relationships with many different users
at the same time. (This would be an unpopular subject in
news.soc.singles) It won’t even call you by the wrong name!
Caution for humans needs to be exercised. Multiple
relationships are very difficult for users, and
extraordinarily simple for the computer. Also, the
tirelessness of the computer can often exhaust the most
lascivious user. Hours on hours, days on days, until the
PIDs number 10^6 the computer will keep asking for LOGINS!

PROGRAMMERS

A very elite group of computer relaters exists, known as
“programmers”. This group can delve as deeply into the
mysteries of computer relations as is technically possible
today. It is this group, in fact, that is able to maintain
the computer at the fevered pitch. Not much is known about
the practices of this elite group, but studies are going on
at this time to determine how their complex groupings are
tied into the inner workings of the mighty computers. It
should be noted that relationships between users and
programmers should be approached with precaution. The depth
of knowledge of the programmer may well burn out the more
simple minded users if the computer is not allowed to act
as counselor.
In closing, the user is encouraged to explore the satisfying
world of the computer. Thrust in headlong to the depth of
your ability. Seek the serene but passionate heights of the
most intense programs. You will come away satisfied and
content in the knowledge of a relationship well founded.

DEFINITIONS

GOING DOWN – Occasionally, the entire computer will turn
“frigid” in mid-course and refuse to do anything. This can
be very frustrating to the operators. It is truly traumatic
to the users that are about to exit in the relationship.
The reason for this action is not entirely known. Indeed,
it appears that the result of going down has entirely the
opposite effect than the action practiced by humans on each
other that bears the same name. However the computer can be
made to recover from this withdrawal by very special
foreplay performed by system administrators. (Special users
and programmers). Going down has one redeeming quality. It
is often the cause of the PID numbers to fall nearly to the
extinction level. PIDs and PPIDs are annihilated by the
millions. This is the ultimate in child process evacuation.

COLD START – This is a term for the intricate foreplay practiced
by programmers on a computer that has “gone down”.
It appears that this is the only form of foreplay
that the system will respond to in order to arouse
a withdrawn system to engage in relationships with
the more common users.

WARM START – This form of foreplay between system
administrators and the computer occurs when the computer
has “gone down” from the secret actions of the system
administrators themselves. No one knows why this
ritualistic form of system deprivation is periodically
practiced by this elite group. Some theories suggest it is
a method whereby the programmers drive their satisfaction
from the frustrated energies of the other users.

BACKUP – A back-up is performed by the programmers at
regular intervals. It may be some form of rear-entry or
“back-door” access to the systems most private parts. The
reason for this is also not known., but at times when the
system “goes down”, it would not be possible to bring it
around again had some programmer not performed a “back-up”
recently.

RUNNING- This is a devious practice performed by the
a programming group or system administrators that is thought
TAPE to be a form of electronic bondage. The system is thought
to derive much pleasure from this. We know that it has to
do with the memories of the system, and is therefore thought
to be very important. This act is never forgotten by the
computer unless it is “erased”, which may be some form of
pleasure-trance induced by the programmers.

WARM DUMP – Not much is known about this. Theories presented
by researchers on system relations are so strange and
repulsive that this is most often handled by government
agencies. The droppings for some, called “cores” are
immediate calls to investigation.(Preverts) (Is that the
opposite of Postverts?)
MODEMS – A piece of equipment that can allow for telefornication
by both authorized and unauthorized users if
the system is not properly prepared.

collaborative effort by: Jay Lewis
Pete Rourke

[I got this from _They Used to Call Me Snow White...But I Drifted_
by Regina Barreca. CTM]

This couple out on a date get a flat while driving along on a snowy
night. He goes out to change the tire, but doesn’t have any gloves
so before long he comes back in, job half-done, with blue hands. “Put
your hands between my legs to warm them up,” says she. So he does,
and goes back out to the flat tire. It’s so cold, he has to come back
in one more time to warm up his hands, again at her invitation,
between her legs. He finally finishes the job and comes back into the
car triumphant and puts the key into the ignition.

She looks at him and says, “Aren’t your ears cold?”

–

It was a working meeting and she was in one group while he was in another.
Only occasionally did they have to address one another. Toward the end of the
meeting, he asked for some assistance from anyone in the room. As she looked
at him, their eyes met, seriously, for the first time. He knew, she was his.
Of course, in a meeting such as this, there was no time for exploring the
relationship further. But tomorrow was another day.

Since she lived in the general area, she left with her car pool and he
wandered back to the hotel following the meeting. The next morning, he was in
the meeting room getting ready for the meeting when she came in with an arm
full of papers to be distributed. He jumped up to help her and lifted the
load from her arms. As he did, his arm brushed against her body. To anyone
else, it would have looked innocent, but he knew there was electricity passed
on that casual touch. So did she; they both knew it. During the day, he had
several other opportunities to be close to her. His touch was returned,
albeit only slightly, each time. He knew she was his. She knew she was
attracted to this man.

That’s all there was to this first meeting. Although they did go to dinner at
her home and met her husband, two children, dogs, cats and assorted other
house guests. He knew, however, there would be many more meetings and the
foundation had been laid. She knew too.

The next time was a working meeting in Phoenix, far from both their homes. As
usual, the first day was casual, with the greetings and small talk that
normally accompanied such meetings. Oh sure, they got their work done but the
real meeting was to take place later.

They all went to dinner at a local restaurant. He made sure he sat next to
her and they visited cordially all evening. His leg casually brushed up
against hers several times and was met with little resistance. His touches
were returned and the electricity between them began to build to a crescendo.
As they returned back to the motel, in his rented car, he made sure she was
the last person to be driven to her area of the motel. He pulled into a
parking place and shut off the engine and lights. His arm reached out and
playfully touched hers. She looked at him and they kissed. It was a long,
deep kiss; each other’s tongue probing the other’s mouth. His hand sought out
her breast and she pulled away from him abruptly.

“What’s the matter,” he asked. “Nothing,” she said; “I have to go to my
room.” He walked her to her room and then returned to his. He was so sure
that he had read her right, yet she had pulled away from him. “What the hell
is going on,” he wondered. Just then the phone rang.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s OK,” he muttered. “What
was the problem?” he asked. “I’m married – you are too,” she said. “I can’t
do this,” she protested. “Besides, I’m in the middle of my period,” she
stated matter of factly. “That’s OK,” he said, reassuringly, “We don’t have
to do anything you don’t want to do. I just thought you wanted to …” I
do… did,” she stammered. “This is so difficult – its my first time for any
of this and I don’t know what to do. I want you so bad – but what about my
husband, my children. What would they think?” “Hey, you’re a big girl,” he
said, “You have to make up your mind what is right for you.”

“What does your wife think?”, she asked. “If I don’t tell her, she doesn’t
think anything,” he said. They talked for two hours and finally hung up. He
knew she was his; but it may take a while. She was extremely driven by sex
but she had to work through this. They would have many more times together
and they could wait.

“Do you want to make love to me,” he asked. “Oh yes,” she stammered. He
could tell, just by her voice on the phone, she was blushing. “Will you do it
next time we meet?”, he asked. “Yyyyyessss,” she whispered in the phone. Do
you want me to lick your clit?” he asked. There was a pause on the phone, he
heard a quick breath, “Don’t say that,” she said, “Someone might be
listening.” “You’re getting wet down there, aren’t you?”, he said. “Oohh
God,” she whispered “Shut up.” The AT&T flirting was becoming more direct.

By the time they got to Phoenix, she was so hot that just the sight of him
made the juices start flowing in her pussy. She spotted him in the lobby as
he was registering for his room. This was one of the largest conferences that
their company had ever had, with over 500 employees attending. Both of them
knew a myriad of people and all were staying in this or the adjacent motel.
She knew that she would have to be extremely careful because many of these
people also knew her husband. Yet she was intrigued with this man. He was
not the most handsome man in the world but what attracted her to him. His
hands and the way he talked to her over the phone. His hands were big for the
size of his body and they blended with the upper body of a man who had labored
long and hard in the west as a cowboy, ranch hand, wildlife biologist and
computer operator. He had a quick sense of wit, humor and knew just how to
push the right buttons to make her body quiver at the sound of his voice.
She’d never been with a real cowboy before and the thought of that made
goosebumps appear all over her body. What the hell cowboys had to do with it
was something that puzzled her.

She returned to her room and watched as he took the glass walled elevator to
the 6th floor. She knew he didn’t suspect she was watching him and that
excited her. She was actually getting wet watching this man ride up the
elevator. “What’s the matter with me?,” she thought to herself. She waited a
few more minutes after he left the elevator and began to wonder if she should
call him. After about 15 minutes she walked over to the phone. Just as she
grabbed the receiver, it rang. It scared her so she dropped it on the floor
and she became embarrassed. “He – Hello,” she said as she picked up the
receiver from the floor. “If I say you have a beautiful body, would you hold
it against me,” she heard him say. A gush of fluid escaped from her pussy.
Her body was trembling as she began apologizing for dropping the phone and
stammering various things into the mouthpiece. “What am I saying,” she
thought to herself.

“Sssooo, should I come down and we go to dinner or what?”, he asked. It was
only 5pm as she glanced at her watch, a little early for dinner. “Uummm,
don’t you” she was interrupted by his saying he would be down and they could
discuss it. Before she could answer, he hung up. She rushed to the bathroom
to clean up. She knew her panties would be soaked from all the fluid that had
escaped her pussy as they talked. “What in the hell is the matter with me?”
she wondered to herself. Just as she was finishing the last button on her
levis, a soft knock was heard at the door.

She opened it and her knees started to buckle. He had on his western clothes,
and she had not realized how wonderful she thought he looked. He was not the
“marlboro man”, but she recognized a genuine cowboy when she saw how his
clothes fit and the way he just stood there. The big belt buckle seemed to
gleam like a neon sign. “Well, do I just stand here for the duration, or do I
get invited in?”, he joked. She stepped back and he walked in past her as she
closed the door. Her pussy was soaked and her knees could barely keep her
legs from buckling beneath her.

He looked around her room and walked over to the shades and pulled them shut.
“There’s no sense of advertising the fact that we are together in this room,
for whatever reason”, he said. “There are plenty of people in this outfit
that would be glad to rumor monger us to death,” he continued. “Come over
here,” he commanded. She flew to him and their lips met.

She was helpless in his arms. Those big hands virtually covered her back as
he placed them around her and his strength practically crushed the breath out
of her. He was not a big man but obviously was strong and caring. The kiss
lasted for, it seemed, an hour. He picked her up and carried her to the bed
and laid her down before their lips separated. She was already breathing hard
and her body was in flames. His lips began caressing the sides of her neck
and reached to her ear lobes. His hands had found her breasts and were gently
squeezing them. She wanted to say something but could not find the breath to
do so. She was totally his to do with as he saw fit. She knew, somehow, that
he would not be cruel to her nor ask her to do anything that she did not want
to do. She trusted this man implicitly.

By now, her blouse was fully opened and his hands were exploring her stomach
and had already caressed her legs. She felt him following her zipper down to
her crotch and the juices in her pussy were drenching her panties. She
wondered if they would soak through her levis. As his hand applied just
slight pressure to her pussy, she came for the first time. Her body arched
against his touch and her breathing became erratic. Flames shot up the front
of her body, piercing her breasts and bringing a blush to her face. She was
sweating profusely and was totally out of control.

He began to take off his clothes as he caressed her body with his lips. He
moved away from her to remove his pants and she sat up on the bed. “I hope
you don’t like big breasts,” she said; “If you do, you’re going to be really
disappointed by me.” He finished removing his pants and returned to making
love to her. “Anything more than a mouthful is excess,” he whispered to
reassure her that he would not be disappointed. He removed her bra and his
lips met her nipples and began caressing them with gentleness, yet firmness
she had never before experienced. His had again found her crotch and she came
again. Not the full climax she would feel later but still, enough to take her
breath away and cause her to feel the flames of desire shoot from her pussy to
her breasts where her lover was working intently. Her nipples caused huge
contractions in her pussy each time her lover sucked on them. Her hips
gyrated with each sucking action, pushing her pussy into the hand that was
gently massaging it through her levis.

She felt the button to her jeans give way and the zipper practically unzipped
itself. A hand crept under her panties and she felt a finger caress the tip
of her clit. “Oh Christ, I’m cumming again,” she thought to herself as
another wave of contractions, flames, muscle spasms and breathlessness
overtook her. She was reveling in the hands of her lover. She raised herself
slightly as he moved lower and began to remove the levis and panties from her
body. When they came off, she raised herself and removed her blouse and bra
that were just hanging on her body. For the first time she saw his erect cock
standing out from his body. She reached for it and began massaging it. She
felt a finger at her clit and it began to rub up and down her slit. She knew
she was ready for entry as the hand slid easily up and down her vaginal entry.
Suddenly, the finger slipped inside her as her lover sucked her left breast
into his mouth. She shuddered as she was almost overwhelmed into a fourth
climax.

Her lover worked his lips and tongue down her stomach as he slowly arranged
himself between her legs. She felt his tongue on her clit as he slowly licked
it. Suddenly, her clit was sucked into his mouth, his tongue flicked it back
and forth mercilessly as his fingers worked inside her vagina. Oh God, Oh
God, Oh God,” she thought as she came again. The waves of excitement came
from deeper within this time. They sucked at her breath, her nipples became
so tight they seemed to be caressed by just the air flowing over them. She
bucked at the tongue which continued to flick her clit. Sweat was streaming
down the sides of her head and beaded up on her stomach. She had never been
with a man that could make her feel this way before.

The waves began to subside and her breath started to return to normal. She
felt him lift himself from her clit and raise above her. As she opened her
eyes, she felt his member enter her vagina. His lips met hers and his tongue
began to reach towards the depths of her throat. She could taste her juices
on his tongue as he rhythmically began fucking her. With each stroke, she
could feel his pubic hair and pelvis rub on her clit. She knew she was in for
one of the strongest climaxes she had ever experienced. His tongue began
tickling the sides of her neck and working toward her ear lobes. One of his
hands had grasped her left nipple and was slowly squeezing it, driving waves
of excitement from her breast toward her stomach. She could feel the fire
beginning to build in her clit as he began to increase the strokes he used in
fucking her. Her toes started to close, her knees began slowly to straighten,
her stomach was beginning to tighten. She had never been here before.
Suddenly, her breath left. The fire from her clit met the waves leaving her
breasts in the middle of her stomach. Her toes completely curled up. Her
buttocks heaved in excitement and her legs wrapped around her lover as she
pulled him harder and harder into her clit. Slowly soft moans began escaping
her lips. They became louder until she was screaming. She bucked with her
lover and her whole body spasmed against the this climax. She had never had a
feeling such as this. She thought she would pass out as she lost track of
time, space and everything. She felt as if she couldn’t breath, yet she could
hear screams of joy coming from her mouth. As he exploded inside her, she
felt herself lift another notch up the climax ladder. “How far can this go,”
she wondered as she screamed louder. She could not quit bucking and swaying
against the force that was bringing her to this feeling. She wanted it to
last forever, but it began to subside.

She could hear the screaming and moaning beginning to subside but the rhythm
of fucking was still making her pussy and clit cause her to drag her lover
deeper and deeper into her vagina. Harder and harder she pulled at him.
Slowly, she regained some of her consciousness. She could see the sweat on
his chest and she began to feel her breaths coming in somewhat of a regular
fashion. Her lover began to slow his strokes and caress her forehead. Slowly
his lips found hers and his tongue eased itself into her mouth. The spasms in
her stomach muscles began to subside and the slow strokes in and out of her
pussy began to feel like rhythmical interludes. Her toes uncurled and her
legs slowly dropped to the bed.

“Looks to me like you enjoyed that,” he said as he lowered himself to the side
of her. She tried to say something but her throat was so dry, not a sound
came out. She felt as if her throat was sore as she cleared it trying to get
some moisture to her vocal cords. Suddenly, he was up and returned with a
glass of water for her. She drank a little and, as he lay down beside her,
put her head in his arms. “That was wonderful,” she breathed. “I have never,
ever, cum like that before. Where did you learn to do all those things?” she
asked. “Oh, you were just all excited because this was the first time,” he
said.

“What’s for supper?”, he asked. She looked at her watch. “My God,” she
thought, “Its 6:30.” “Its already 6:30!” she exclaimed, “the last time I
looked at my watch, it was only 5:00.” “Time flies when you’re havin’ fun”,
he said. “Maybe we should just order in?” he said with a question in his
voice. “Or we could just skip supper altogether,” she volunteered. “You mean
you think you could handle some more of what we just did?” he asked. “Well,
maybe not right now – but we could discuss it”, she giggled.

They passed the night, making love three more times. Each time, he managed to
make her cum. She could not imagine cumming that many times in one night. It
had never happened to her and she didn’t know what to make of this man who
just walked into her life and practically took her over. She always knew that
sex was very important to her, but this man had awakened things within her
body that she didn’t know existed. Little did she know how much these
feelings would have on her body as the weeks and years progressed.

It was hot and steamy as we arrived at the airport in Bris-
bane for the long journey home to Boston. This was the end of a
month-long campervan vacation in Australia, and I, for one, was
overjoyed to be heading back to some normalcy. For an entire
month my wife Anne (I call her “the queen”) had avoided sex in
the campervan, or anywhere else for that matter, since “the
children are nearby.” – The irony of her way of thinking will be
evident shortly.
Actually, she is not very interested in sex anytime, since
she was taught by her mother that sex was “dirty.” The only time
she ever saw her parents making love, they were fully clothed
(hike up the skirt, dear – I’ll just quickly unzip.) Sometimes I
wonder how we ever ended up with three children; one is grown and
on her own, the two boys (Ralph, 17 and Trevor, 14) were with us
on holiday. Because I travel regularly, I have opportunity for
other sexual outlets during the year, but four plus weeks within
close quarters with a demanding uptight woman does not give you
much opportunity to develop alternatives.
I had some first class upgrade coupons, but at check-in time
was told there was only one seat available. Anne immediately
volunteered because of her “potential for a bad back,” and was
seated in 3A. The boys and I were given 21K/L and 22L. This was
aisle and window seating in the 2-5-2 configuration, and the last
two rows in the second section. I took the single seat, and let
Ralph and Trevor sit together for the first ten-hour segment of
the flight.
An attractive woman dressed in a loose sweater and very tight
blue jeans took the seat next to me. I could see that Ralph was
uncomfortable and maybe even a little jealous, since he kept
turning around to talk to me, but she was too old (29) to be
interested in him. She introduced herself as Christine, “You can
call me Chrissy.” She was about five foot eight, light brown
(almost blond) long hair, a nice ass – firm and high, breasts
with an impact even through her shapeless sweater, and obviously
in good physical condition.
Chrissy was headed for Miami to pick up her belongings from a
recent divorce; she and her husband had been working together on
private yachts for eight years, and he had developed a cocaine
habit. When he would not seek help to end his drug addiction,
and more immediately after a close call with customs in Australia
last year, she decided then and there to split from him, filed
for divorce, stayed in Brisbane, and had just been notified the
divorce was final. In the meantime, she had met another guy she
wanted to stay with, and was going to Miami to settle up the
property and return to her new lover. This I discovered during
dinner conversation and over a few shared glasses of wine.
Looking into my eyes, she confided she was “now free and ready
for some excitement.”
The movie started, the flight attendants went around the
cabin to lower all the shades, and Chrissy said, “I’d rather
talk, if it’s OK with you; this movie is terrible.” I had also
seen the movie and agreed. We spent the next two hours getting
to know each other better. Chrissy at one point said, “You have
terrific eyes, I get really turned on by eyes.” We talked about
the kids, and when she asked if I was married and learned about
Anne in the front cabin, she thought it displayed selfish behav-
ior and then never mentioned my marital status again.
By now, the boys had fallen asleep, and just before the end
of the movie, Chrissy excused herself for a few minutes, reached
into the overhead bin for her carry-on (stretched long enough to
get my mind focused on her hips and legs in those wonderful tight
jeans,) and headed to the lavatory in the back. When she re-
turned, she was wearing loose-fitting sweatpants, and when she
asked if I minded if she lifted the arm dividing the seats, I
replied “Of course not!” By now I had an idea of what she had in
mind, because she had confided during the movie that one of her
greatest turn-ons was the risk of discovery while having sex.
“My husband was not a great lover, but in the close confines of
the boat it was always exciting to fuck without anyone nearby
knowing about it; I had more orgasms from fucking near other
people than from the sex act itself.” As she shared this with
me, she was already visibly breathing more quickly.
Chrissy and I arranged the blankets over both of us, now no
longer separated, and curled up like spoons in the otherwise
crowded seats. I started to give her a back rub, slowly working
over her muscles by now cramped from the first five hours of the
flight. She purred quietly, and after a while squirmed her
shapely ass on the seat, pushing it back into my
growing erection. With both hands I reached around under her
loose sweater, and fondled her globes, her nipples growing firmer
under my gentle stroking.
Chrissy reached back and with one hand released my belt, then
unbuckled and unbuttoned my pants. I whispered in her ear, “How
do you do that? I can’t even do that with one hand, and they’re
my pants.”
She laughed, and said, “Years of practice; don’t worry, it
gets better.” My hard-on sprang out of my tight bikini briefs as
she pulled the waistband forward, and she whispered, “I’m glad
you’re not wearing boxer shorts, I can’t stand them.”
Chrissy began to stroke my cock, now slightly oozing with its
own lubrication. She used the pre-come to help rotate her fin-
gers gently around the head, stroking it with ever firmer pres-
sure. I withdrew my hands from under her sweater to push my
pants down further, allowing me to slip the briefs down below my
swollen balls, which she now explored with her questing hand.
Lubricating her fingers even more with her saliva, she alternate-
ly rubbed my balls and massaged the head of my dick.
My hands were now free, and I hungrily reached forward for
her erect nipples, shortly afterward sliding my right hand down
her belly and slipping it under the waistband of her sweatpants.
She was wearing no panties underneath, and the inside of the
cotton sweats was already wet with her juices. As I stroked her
mound, her lubrication welcomed my fingers into her warm wet
cunt. Rubbing the juices on my fingers, I began to circle her
clitoris and then used my fingers to stroke in and out of her
pussy while my thumb pushed against her swollen clit. She was
breathing harder now, and could not stop moving her ass around on
the seat, first bucking her soaking cunt against my right hand,
then pushing her ass back against my cock through the sweatpants.
Just then, the stewardess came down the aisle, paused notice-
ably as she came up to our row, glared at me (me? why me? there
are two of us here, you know!), almost said something, then
apparently decided that since we were bothering nobody else, she
would keep moving. Thank God! While we were both close to fully
clothed at that time, there was little chance she could do any-
thing legally disastrous, but who needs the embarrassment, or the
hassle from the kids for that matter.
As the stewardess left, Chrissy whispered. “She knows exact-
ly what we are doing, and she’s jealous! Now I want to have your
prick inside me. I’ll keep quiet, but I need you to fuck me
now.” With this, she lifted her ass off the seat and slid her
sweats down below her knees, then separated her legs slightly and
moved back so I could slide into her dripping pussy from behind.
I moved slowly in and out as she purred and pushed back onto my
cock quietly so we would not wake our neighbors.
At the same time, I reached back around to stroke her clito-
ris easily but steadily. The appearance of the stewardess had
startled me, and most of the urgency for release that had built
up from her stroking my hard-on had subsided, so it was a nice,
long, easy fuck, punctuated by her spasming in orgasm three times
before my cock pressure built up to the point of no return. I
came with the most excruciating pleasure I had felt in my life
(actually for the last month, but you know how easy it is to lose
perspective at the moment.) I felt like I unleashed at least a
pint of come into her already dripping cunt. I sighed, and
whispered’ “Chrissy, it must have been heaven that sent you to
this seat. You don’t know how much I needed that.”
She then turned around in the seat to sit normally, and
kissed me for the first time. “I needed it just as much as you
did; you’re a terrific fuck, but on top of that it’s the danger
that makes me come so much. Thanks for being here, I dreamed
that I’d be fucked silly on this trip. As we kissed, I told her
about my favorite turn-on. “What I like best is eating pussy,
but there is no room here for that. Would you like to go to the
back of the plane with me?”
“What do you mean? In the lavatory?” she asked.
“Yes. If we are reasonably cautious we can get in there
without causing an uproar,” I replied.
“I’ve never done that before,” Chrissy explained.
“There’s a first time for everything,” I said, and moved to
pull up my pants and buckle my belt. She thought about it for a
minute, and then said, “why not, let’s try it!” She drew up the
sweatpants and tied the drawstring (I hadn’t noticed there was
one before – must not have been tied.) Then she got up and
headed for the back of the plane, with me following directly
behind.
She entered the first lavatory, which was vacant (good thing
the flight was long, and everybody was still asleep.) I slipped
right in behind her before the flight attendants noticed we were
even there. As I closed the door, she turned and we started to
kiss passionately. She broke for a quick query, “how do you do
anything in this little space?” As I untied the drawstring on
her sweatpants, I said, “Just lift up and sit on the sink, and
let me taste your cunt.”
Chrissy lifted, spread her legs, and I could see her cunt
lips were still swollen from her last orgasm. I gently tongued
her outer lips, occasionally swiveling my head to nip the insides
of her thighs, but always returning to circle her clit, and as it
swelled up, suck on it gently. There was no end to the wetness;
her own lubrication, supplemented by the enormous load of come I
had left in her pussy, dripped down both sides of my chin onto
the stainless steel sink surface and trailed down her thighs.
After tonguing her into a few more orgasms, I realized how
hard I was getting again, and finally stood up, sliding her ass
slightly off the surface, and drove my cock into her again while
we exchanged extremely wet but tasty kisses, flavored by both of
our juices. Such a short time after the last fuck, and she was
sooo wet; this time it lasted at least twenty minutes, both of us
sighing and savoring the overwhelming sensations coursing through
our bodies. Finally, after a slow buildup that I never wanted to
end, I came again, not as much this time, but she sensed it and
started bucking hard just at the same moment. The pleasure was
so intense it was almost painful.
The light came on to return to the cabin, and after a few
minutes we were able to adjust ourselves to some degree of
presentability to return to our seats. Just as we opened the
door, the same stewardess was looking right into my eyes. She
said angrily, “Please return to your seats and stay there. We
have some turbulence and the captain has turned on the seat
belt sign.” I couldn’t help but think that maybe we were the
cause of the turbulence, but then that’s just my imagination
running away with me again.
As we settled in to the seats, Chrissy pushed the seat divid-
er down, saying, “I think everyone is waking up, let’s not embar-
rass your boys.” The breakfast service was beginning, the cabin
lights were turned on, and we were again two strangers who hap-
pened to be sitting next to each other on the plane. The secret
of our mile-high lovemaking was secure.
We exchanged addresses, but with her in Brisbane and me in
Boston it’s not likely we’ll ever meet again. Both of us prom-
ised to use caution in contacting each other should the opportu-
nity arise, so our current SO would not be disturbed, but also
promised to get together if possible again.
I said goodbye to Chrissy at the seat, and went forward with
the unsuspecting boys to deplane.
As we got to the end of the ramp in the terminal, I asked
Anne, “How was your flight?”
“Great,” she replied, “one of the most relaxing ever.”
“Me too!”

Little Johnny was 12 years old and, like other boys his age, was rather
curious. He had been hearing quite a bit about “courting” from older boys and
he wondered what it was like and how it was done. One day he took his question
to his mother who became rather flustered.
Instead of explaining things to Johnny, his mother told him to hide behind
the curtains one night and watch his older sister and her boyfriend. This he
did.

The following morning, Johnny described everything to his mom.

“Sis and her boyfriend sat and talked for awhile then he turned off most
of the lights. He then started hugging and kissing her. I figured Sis
must be getting sick because her face started to look funny. He must have
thought so too because he put his hand inside her blouse to feel her heart
just like the doctor would do. He was not as smart as a doctor because he
seemed to be having trouble finding it.

“I guess he was getting sick too because pretty soon both of them
started panting and getting all out of breath. His other hand must have
been cold because he put it in her skirt. About this time Sis got worse
and began to moan and groan and squirm around and slide down towards the
end of the couch. This is when the fever started.

“I knew it was the fever because Sis said she felt real hot. Finally I
found out what was making them so sick. A big eel had gotten inside his
pants somehow. It just jumped out of his pants and stood there, about 10
inches long, honest. Anyway, he grabbed it in one hand to keep it from
getting away.

“When Sis saw it, she got real scared, her eyes got big and her mouth
fell open and started calling to God and stuff. She said it was the
biggest one she ever saw…… I should have told her about the one down at
the lake.

“Sis got brave and tried to kill the eel by biting its head off. All of
a sudden she made a noise and let the eel go. I guess it bit her back.
Then she grabbed it with both hands and held it tight while her boyfriend
took a muzzle out of his pocket and slipped it over the eel’s head to keep
it from biting again.

“Sis lay back and spread her legs so she could get a scissor lock on it
and he helped by laying on top of the eel. The eel put up a hell of a
fight. Sis started groaning and squealing and her boyfriend almost upset
the couch. I guess he wanted to kill it by squeezing it between them.

“After a while they both quit moving and a great sigh came forth. Her
boyfriend got up, and sure enough, the eel was dead. I knew it was dead
because it just hung there limp with some of its insides hanging out.

“Sis and her boyfriend were a little tired from the battle but they went on
courting anyways. He started hugging and kissing her again. By golly the eel
wasn’t dead after all. It jumped straight up and started to fight again. I
guess eels are like cats with 9-lives.

“This time Sis jumped up and tried to kill the eel by sitting on it.
After 35 minutes of struggling, they finally killed it. I knew it was dead
because I saw Sis’s boyfriend peel its skin off and flush it down the
toilet…..”

–

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