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“I want to know who he is.”

“No.”

“Did you hear me? I want to know. You have no right to keep

this from me.”

“Part of the deal was, I promised him you wouldn’t find out.

Look, maybe he doesn’t want a relationship. But there’s no way I can

tell you without his consent.”

“If you don’t tell me whose cock was inside me, I’m going

to kick your ass.”

* * *

The guy wouldn’t consent to me revealing his identity. I admit

I felt awkward refusing to tell her who he was — she was my friend,

after all — but I had given him my word. We had exchanged trust; it

was part of the bargain.

Jeanine’s bitterness about me keeping my vow of secrecy aside,

it seemed that the whole project was going really well. Her moody

urgency about losing her virginity was gone; her burning curiosity about

sex was satiated, and now she comported herself more confidently, with

an uncharacteristic calmness. I had heard about deflowering having a

big impact on people’s behavior before, but I had never witnessed it

myself. I was impressed; Jeanine went from being a edgy, high-strung

swarm of electrons to a cool, flowing girl. If one morning I glanced

out the dorm window and saw her strolling naked over snow drifts with

flowers in her hair and her voice alive with song, I would not have

been surprised.

She also began socializing more. She acquired a fake I.D.,

and began hanging out in the campus pub with myself and various future

farmers. She danced to country music, quaffed tepid beer, laughed

dizzily at stupid jokes, and smiled a great deal. It was a terrible

irony that this was when the problems began.

One evening, sitting with Peggy, me, and three other guys

from school, she blew the whole operation. We had been playing truth

or dare, which for us was usually a safe and unsurprising game, and

just by chance one fellow named Dale asked about her first time. She

stared at him penetratingly — I assumed she was wondering if he was the

one — and then she blurted it all out. My proposal, the secret trust,

the grand mission to liberate her from virginity. I kicked her under

the table but she wouldn’t shut up. By the time she finished babbling

the guy was mortified, and she clearly inferred from his reaction that he

was not her man. An awful silence descended. Jeanine looked

over at me, wounded, helpless, stunned by her own stupidity.

“That’s a nice bit of fiction, Jeanine.” I tried to cover

her tracks.

“Did she make that up?” Peggy asked me, her voice high-pitched

and wavering.

“Nope,” a guy named Del said. “Too real. She said too

much details. Know what I mean? She couldn’t've made all that up

just now.”

Her face flushed, Jeanine rose unsteadily and walked to the

ladies’ room. Two of the guys, almost fainting with hilarity, went

to the pool table to repeat what they had just heard.

Later, Jeanine told me that as she exited the bathroom a

stranger approached her and claimed to be her anonymous lover.

As did nine other people over the next two days. One of them

was a woman who claimed she had worn a strap-on.

* * *

Jeanine told me that her response to all the guys who claimed

to be her lover was: Prove it.

To which most of them replied:

“Sure. But, um…the only way I can prove it is if you

let me sleep with you. Then you’ll know it was me.”

* * *

“The problem, Bobby,” Jeanine inhaled from the joint I had

managed to talk my older sister out of. “The problem is…I mean,

I can deal with all this bullshit, the ridicule, everyone saying how

desperate I must be. The real problem is, I love the guy.”

…End of the part4. To be continued..

things, don’t they?

These days a mixed marriage elicits very little response from others;

people are more tolerant, more carefree, I guess just more apathetic.

But thirty odd years ago things were very different.

Since Corina and I grew up together in the same small town, neither of

us had any concern for the colour of the other’s skin – she was black,

I was white. That was all we knew and all we cared about. But,

unfortunately, our liberal views were not shared by the whole town.

We matured and I began to see Corina as more than just a childhood

playmate. Her lithe, black body as it undulated under the loose

fitting tops and skirts that she would wear had me experiencing

sensations that I had never previously felt. Corina’s feelings towards

me were also changing; the way that she looked at me with her sexy,

crooked smile and the way that she would brush up against me or touch

my hand or arm sensuously during a conversation made me realise that

she was experiencing the same feelings of young lust that I was.

Whispers were rife all over town – a white man and a black woman

getting together? It was practically unheard of and we were looked

upon with distrust and uncertainty by a lot of the townsfolk.

But Corina and I didn’t concern ourselves with what others thought. We

kept ourselves private and in a world known only to us. Long,

meandering walks out into the countryside became our favourite

pastimes. The clear, blue sky, the sounds of wildlife all around us,

the rich, fragrant scent of the pine forests and the joy of being

together – we felt we had it all!

I never even asked her to marry me; it was something that we both just

expected to happen – as if some unspoken telepathy existed between us.

The ceremony was small and informal. We knew that many of our

neighbours were not impressed by our mixed creed relationship, but

what did we need them for anyway, we had each other.

But feelings surrounding our marriage were intensifying. It seemed

that Corina and I had underestimated the attitude of the townsfolk

towards us and we were about to discover exactly how strongly some of

them felt.

We had moved into a small house on the outskirts of town. The land

surrounding us gave us good crops of fruit and vegetables that

supplemented the meagre rations that my work as a furniture maker was

able to provide. We had few luxuries but were happy spending our

evenings sitting on the porch, watching the stars and planning our

future.

Our sex life was wonderful. Apart from a little touching and fondling

before we married, we had virtually saved ourselves. But now we were

free to enjoy the fruit that we had for so long forbidden each other.

And enjoy we did. I discovered that Corina was extremely sexual. She

would use her body while we made love, twisting and turning her

slender frame to maximise the pleasure for both of us. There seemed

little that she wouldn’t try and I remember the exquisite sensations

that I experienced when she took my dick into her pretty mouth for the

first time.

We were sitting out on the porch as usual that evening. The air was

cool and fragrant and we cuddled up as we watched the sun go down and

the stars begin to pin-prick the darkening sky. The sound of the

vehicle seemed a long was off and I gave it little thought as I buried

my face in my wife’s thick black hair and let my fingers wander over

the dark, smooth skin of her thigh below the hem of her loose dress.

“I think that car’s getting closer, baby.” Corina said with a giggle

as I tickled the inside of her thigh. “Maybe you better stop that

before you go too far. We might be getting visitors!”

“You really want me to stop?” I whispered into her ear.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

simultaneously perform fellatio on the receiver (assuming the

receiver is male, of course). Depth of penetration is shallow to

medium, but the angle of insertion is “unnatural,” and this makes

for unusual sensations. The penis contacts the anal/vaginal wall

or prostate, as with the previous position.

There are at least two varieties of the sitting position. (1)

The inserter may sit in a chair or on a sofa, while the receiver

lowers him/herself down on the inserter’s lap, facing away. (2) The

inserter may lie down flat on his/her back and the receiver sits

down on him/her, again facing away. This is another good beginner

position, since the receiver controls depth of penetration.

The “T position” has the receiver lying flat on his/her back with

knees drawn up and perhaps a pillow or two under the lower back

for elevation. The inserter lies down underneath the the bent legs

of the receiver, but at a right angle. There may be a significant

difference in comfort for the receiver, depending on which side

insertion occurs. Depth of penetration is medium.

The face-to-face standing position requires practice and considerable

agility on the part of both partners. The receiver raises a leg to

waist level, which the inserter grasps and holds. This pulls forward

the buttocks and anus of the receiver, and makes insertion from

the front and underneath just barely possible. Shallow penetration

at a strange angle is probably the best that can be hoped for,

but that this is even possible is rather remarkable.

——————————————————————-

Val was pretty well soured on both sexes. Sure, you could have a good

time with playmates, but they seemed always to end up claiming property

rights. Wanting to own you. Enough of that shit! He decided that he’d

settle for his own company for the foreseeable future.

It helped that he had started a new and better job. A well-paying and

non-demanding job. A job that involved his ass, as it happened. He was

an underwear model.

Back in their happier days when they were (literally!) “into” each other,

Warren had put him in touch with a friend who ran a modeling agency. So

now Val was making a couple of thou a week just for parading his compact

underwear-clad butt in front of photographers and advertising execs. The

lights were hot, but the work was easy and the ambiance classy. And he

did have all the required talents: the ability to freeze a pose for an

extended period of time, and even more important, a tight, muscular set

of buns.

It was too good to last, of course. As his modeling career took off

(they raved about his butt), he got more bookings than he could handle.

The fame disease befell him. They began to call him the “Ass Man,” and

his face became as familiar to the public as his backside. He couldn’t

go out shopping without being surrounded by screaming fans holding out

copies of his notorious bare-ass “Slutboy” centerfold spread for him to

autograph. He couldn’t go for a walk in his own neighborhood without women

(and sometimes men) sneaking up behind him and pinching his butt. His mail

overflowed with offers of marriage and indecent proposals in exquisite

detail from all five sexes. He had no privacy. The whole world seemed

to want a piece of him . . . a piece of ass. His ass was under siege.

Soon enough, Val got tired of peddling ass. He retired. With what was left

of his earnings, he bought a remote mountain cabin far up in the Canadian

Rockies. With no phone or electricity, he isolated himself completely

from civilization. His only companions were a neurotic Persian cat and

a custom-made set of solar-powered dildoes.

——————————————————————-

THE BOOK OF ASSES

Part V

Preventive Maintenance

The care and feeding of one’s ass has a major effect on the health,

and consequently pleasure capacity of that wondrous organ.

A healthy and balanced diet promotes healthy bowel habits and

maintains the vigor of the large intestine and the muscle tone of

the sphincter. Avoid animal fats, which can lead to rectal cancer

and other debilitating ailments. Consume generous portions of

vegetables and foods containing fiber and “roughage” and you will

be amply rewarded by regular and satisfying bowel movements.

Regular exercise, especially walking, bicycling, and swimming,

contributes to a healthy state of the digestive system and helps

shape and tone the large muscles of the posterior. Kegel-type

exercises of the anal sphincter ring maintain the flexibility and

strength of that all-important gateway to ecstasy.

Cleanliness keeps the anus healthy. Clean thoroughly after each

bowel movement, and as necessary apply salve or ointment to treat

irritation and maintain the suppleness and pleasing appearance of

that entry to the chamber of delights.

Enemas can be a useful adjunct to anal pleasure. Those particularly

sensitive to fecal residue and odors may find it helpful to cleanse

the interior of the colon with a saline enema prior to anal play. Of

course, exercise due caution in administering enemas, both to one’s

self and to a partner.

——————————————————————-

As cut off from the world as Val was, a leading New York publishing house

had somehow gotten wind of his writings and tracked him down. Having

jeeped in over potholed dirt roads and iced-up mountain passes,

the publishing executive breathlessly explained that there was a

multi-million-dollar advance waiting if he would only sign a contract for

“The Book of Asses.” A vast audience was panting for alternate sexuality

and “orifice liberation” literature. Now if Val would just sign on the

dotted line . . .

He was mightily pissed at having his privacy invaded. “How the fuck did

you find me, and what makes you think I need your filthy luchre anyhow?”

The executive smiled . . . and dropped her pants. She had a perfect ass

. . . and wasn’t that a wicked-looking dildo harness girding her loins?

“After all, we *do* know your weaknesses, Val.”

It turned out that she liked his ass, too. Sticking a lubricated finger

or two into him became a regular part of their lovemaking. Then, one

night she found a wrapped up little surprise waiting on her pillow. It

was a custom-made dildo harness in her size (60″ hips!). Her face lit

up like a 1000-watt floodlight.

It turned out that she liked fucking him as much as she liked being

fucked. Maybe even more. She was constantly after him to flop over on his

stomach or get on his hands and knees so she could “plumb his depths,”

as she so eloquently put it. But there can be too much of a good thing,

even when one’s depths are being plumbed. (Human plumbing does have its

limits.) Some days his hole was so swollen and sore that even taking

a shit was an ordeal. He was embarrassed to take his bloodstained

undershorts to the laundromat. It got so he had to hide out from her

when she had that certain gleam in her eye.

“Damn you, Val! You’re mine! You belong to me! I *own* you! Every part

of you. How dare you deny me your ass when I *need* it?”

“Look, Maya, baby. We’ve had a good thing going, but you don’t own me.

I hate to say this, but . . . move that big ass of yours out that door

. . . and keep right on moving it into the far distance.

——————————————————————-

THE BOOK OF ASSES

Part IV

Positions

For beginners at anal intercourse, the “spoon position” works very

nicely. This has the inserter lying on his/her side behind the

receiver, facing the receiver’s back. The receiver draws the legs up

part way toward the chest. The inserter curls up tightly behind and

holds on to the hips of the partner, perhaps parting the buttocks

to aid entry. Depth of penetration ranges from medium to fairly deep.

The classic ass fucking position is “bent over.” The receiver

bends over forward with legs spread slightly apart, and presents

the buttocks for insertion. This particular position works either

standing up or down on hands and knees. It often helps for the

receiver to recline forward over a bed or padded piece of furniture

with his/her entire weight supported. This takes the stress off

the muscles of the lower back and buttocks and helps sphincter

relaxation for ease of insertion. Depth of penetration is deep.

There are two variations of the “straight-up” position. Both partners

may stand erect, with the inserter behind the receiver as before,

but neither bends over. In similar fashion, the receiver may lie

flat on his/her stomach on a bed or padded surface, with the active

person lying atop the partners back and inserting from behind. A

pillow under the receiver’s hips facilitates insertion. Depth of

penetration is medium to deep and the insertion angle results in

direct stimulation of the anterior anal/vaginal wall, with its

many nerve endings — or prostrate, dependering on the sex of

the receiver.

The anal “missionary” position has the receiver lying on his/her back

with partially bent legs pulled up far toward the chest. The inserter

grasps the partner’s ankles, pulls the legs over his/her shoulders,

and leans over, face to face, toward the partner. The receiver must

usually guide the penis of his/her lover into his/her own ass. This

position provides exceptionally good anal/vaginal wall or prostate

stimulation for the receiver and permits kissing. Some call this

configuration “doing it in the family way” for its similarities

to the classic “missionary” position. Depth of penetration can be

very deep, and this may cause discomfort for the receiver if the

inserter has an exceptionally large penis or dildo.

A variation of the above “missionary” position has the inserter

sitting. The receiver lies on his/her back, but with his/her ass on

the lap of the inserter, and legs draped high over the inserter’s

…End of the part6. To be continued..

reach around and jerk you off up front; you were on the edge of shooting

your wad even without that. Not everyone can have a prostrate orgasm –

come just from being ass-fucked — but you can. In fact, you have the

most talented ass I’ve ever seen. Seen, hell, the most talented ass I’ve

ever been inside of. If any ass was ever made for fucking, yours was.”

“That sounds rather poetic. What’s all this leading up to?”

“Look. I want you as my steady. Your ass is mine. It belongs to me,

and me only. Likewise the rest of you. Your whole body is my exclusive

property. I own you, all of you.”

“Warren, baby, I do believe you’re presuming a bit much. My ass is

more than just a receptacle for your cock. It belongs to me. Me. A real

person. A person with an identity and free will. A person with a destiny

to fulfill. A person who has all of a sudden had his fill of assholes

who insist on asserting ownership rights on other people. A person who

has just decided to boot *your* ass out.”

——————————————————————-

THE BOOK OF ASSES

Part III

Taking Pleasure

In the valley of the buttocks sits the crown jewel — the rosebud,

vulgarly known as the asshole. This is one of only two openings to

the body’s digestive system. Nature designed it to function as a

portal, to release stored solid waste from the lower intestine. As

it happens, it’s a two-way valve, allowing entry as well as exit. The

anus can be trained to become the most responsive and pleasure-giving

of all the sex organs.

The anal sphincter is a double valve. It consists of an outer ring of

muscle that can squeeze shut and open up under conscious control.

About three-quarters of an inch deeper inward is a second ring

of muscle that responds to pressure from within and peristaltic

motion. There are, however, methods of relaxing the inner valve to

permit insertion of a foreign object — a butt plug, dildo, or penis.

Certain techniques facilitate anal entry . . . for purposes of ass

play and ass fucking. Lubrication and relaxation are the key.

The lower chamber of the large intestine, the rectum, has a lining of

relatively fragile mucus membrane. Insertion therein of objects or

body parts absolutely requires lubrication. A water-based slippery

emolient is appropriate for silicone dildoes and condoms. Petroleum

lubricants, such as Vaseline, seemingly work well with a bare penis,

but they do have certain failings.

Relaxation is critical for the passive partner — the receiver or

“bottom.” This prevents pain, not to mention possible damage to the

rectal wall, and makes the experience much more enjoyable for both

parties. Preparation and loosening of the receiver’s anus usually

involves gentle insertion of one, then two well-lubricated fingers.

The receiver can aid insertion of fingers and, later, penis or

dildo, by pushing gently out (as when having a bowel movement)

at the moment of entry. If necessary, the receiver can also assist

insertion by reaching back around to pull apart the buttock cheeks.

An experienced bottom can often accept insertion from a well-lubricated

dildo or penis with minimal preparation. A fortunate few can even

climax just from being ass-fucked, with little or no stimulation

of their own “primary” sex organs (vagina/clitoris or penis).

When bottoming, some men get pleasure from stimulation of the

prostate gland, located on the forward wall of the rectum, below and

behind the base of the penis. Feeling the head of the inserter’s

penis poking and rubbing against the prostate is often by itself

sufficient to bring the passive partner to orgasm. Sensations

of friction, stretching, and fullness likewise contribute to the

pleasure of the receiver and may also trigger orgasm. This helps

…End of the part4. To be continued..

anticipated that I would be a tall man, for my father, at 6′ 2″, was the runt

of his family. Couple that with my mom’s genes and it seemed reasonable

that I’d be tall. It was not to be. At eighteen, we were pretty much the

same height. I knew just where the tips of her breasts hit my chest.

I should mention that my mother had very attractive breasts, a C-

cup with prominent, up-tilted nipples that were often evident despite her

clothes. Sometime later I was to learn that she was one of those women

who were blessed with exceptionally firm, youthful breasts, that never lost

much of their firmness. She is one of those rare females that will have

youthful breasts into her later years. Like intelligence, beauty is given to us

as an accident of birth, no more than a fortuitous role of the genetic dice.

It’s comforting to be part of a line of good stock I was told, but I hadn’t

thought of it in this arena of sexual attractiveness.

While my mother’s figure was model-attractive, it was her facial

features that were eye catching. She had a straight, almost aristocratic

nose and a wide, full mouth. Her prominent cheek bones set off her

unusually attractive eyes. They were hard to describe, her eyes. She had

high, full, unaltered eye brows, that were dark in color in contrast to her

natural auburn hair. But it was the eyes themselves that caught your

attention, for they were a light green-blue with an exotic cast. At times I

thought she might have some Asian blood, but I never got a hint of it in the

rest of her family. In any case, they were striking, often dark and brooding

and at times almost electric. Without altering her facial expression, her

eyes could show humor or joy and, at times, anger. I often wondered what

she looked like when sexually aroused.

But I digress. Back to the awakening of my sexual awareness.

I didn’t set out to seduce my mother, despite the rich and lurid

fantasies I entertained. I held them as deeply secret and guarded as one

would any shameful, licentious desire. The thought was given no more

than masturbatory acknowledgment, as frequent as that was. Still, the gap

between our thoughts and our actions remains hidden from our conscious

awareness by the strength of our denial. So while I might have denied a

plan to seduce her, my actions would have argued differently. I set out to

be her friend and her confidant, to reduce if not break down the

conventional barriers between us. This was largely an unacknowledged

plan of mine. I don’t recall thinking anything more detailed than vague

objectives of getting closer to her.

Over time, I became more open with her about my self. I asked her

opinions of things, including girls and dating and later, sexual things. I

worked at being her emotional intimate. It wasn’t difficult, for she was at

heart an emotionally trusting and open women who, it turned out, was

largely unencumbered by repressive standards. To my surprise, we

gradually became good friends. That I would bond so closely with my

mother was not surprising, given my nature and that fact that my father

was largely an absent force in my life.

I slowly became less conventional in my own modesty. It was not

at all unusual for me to chat with my mother wearing no more than my

Calvin Kleins. I was aware that she studiously avoided looking at my body

when I was so briefly dressed, but she never reprimanded me for

inappropriate attire.

———————————————————————

I became aware that when my dad was away, she usually left her

bedroom door open. I took that as an invitation and often walked in on her

to “chat.” Not infrequently, I’d catch her in her bra and panties. She’d

say, “Whoops,” and slip on a robe, loosely tied. Once, as I walked into her

room, she was walking out of her large closet wearing only an unbelted

robe that swung open as she moved. From a moment only, I saw her nude

body. It was no more than a flash that left nothing more than an after-

image. It was that after-image that I examined so repeatedly. I saw firm,

upthrust breasts, and a flash of dense pubic hair at the base of a flat

abdomen . . . and then she pulled the robe closed without comment.

I’d gone in to ask her if she’d like to play some tennis and for a

moment was tongue tied, standing there, staring at her.

…End of the part4. To be continued..

aware of her. Aware of the smell of her hair and the press of her breasts

and the hardness of her pubic bone against me. And, as instantly, I became

hard. I didn’t wonder if she could tell. It was blatant.

“Susan,” I asked – it sounded strange to my ear, “could I kiss you?”

“Of course, Bill. I’d like that.”

“I mean a real kiss. An adult kiss. Not some little-boy-peck-on-

the-cheek kiss.”

“Of course, a real kiss. I never expected less from you.”

She closed her eyes and offered her partially open mouth to me, her

lips wet and seemingly slightly swollen. I opened mine and kissed her lips,

initially very softly, and later with more feeling. She kissed back, making

no effort to end the kiss, seeming to melt into it all the more. We kissed

again, and we mouthed each other, breathing into each other. I gave her

my tongue again and she responded the same way, pushing the urgent,

hardened tip of her tongue deep into my mouth.

I found my self slowly rocking my pelvis into her, rubbing my erect

cock on her thigh. I felt her push back in a slow, grinding fashion, pushing

her pubic bone into me.

“Let’s sit, Bill. I want to be closer to you.” She slowly pushed me

backward toward the couch and as it hit me behind the calves and I was

falling into it, she added, “Can I sit on your lap?”

Without waiting for a reply, she half turned and lowered her bottom

into my lap, wrapping her arms about me in the same motion, her breast

under my chin, her cleavage right under my nose.

“There! That’s better,” she proclaimed, reaching for my right hand

and placing it on her hip while I placed my left hand around her bottom.

She was sitting right on top of my hard-on. She squirmed a few times as if

better defining what she was sitting on. “Isn’t that better?”

“Ummph,” I exaggerated and in a strained voice as if an elephant

were sitting on my chest, I replied, wheezing, “Yesss. So much better.”

“You turkey, you. I hardly weigh anything and besides, you

haven’t paid enough attention to me tonight. Well, at least not in the last

few seconds. I want another kiss.”

I looked up at her and mimicking her surrender, closed my eyes and

offered her my lips. She immediately ran her tongue deep into my mouth

and groaned, “God, you’re delicious,” again grinding her butt on my lap.

Without thinking or conscious decision, I ran the palm of my right

hand up from her hip, across her waist to the side of her thorax. I missed

and was palming the side of her breast. She kissed me harder in apparent

approval so I went for broke and cupped her full breast in my hand,

thumbing her erect nipple.

I don’t know when we broke that kiss. Actually, I suspect we

never did. It just slid into others. I made no pretense of touching her tit by

mistake. Rather, I palmed it and weighed it and rolled her nipple between

my fingers in as provocative a fashion as I could imagine. I wanted to feel

her breast and more, I wanted to be patently blatant about it, that both of

would know and acknowledge that I was caressing her breast and nipple.

We were both moaning and voicing largely incoherent sounds. She

was hugging my head and tussling with my hair in a passionate, almost

frenzied fashion. Our faces were wet from the open-mouth kissing and

licking. I had pulled down the bodice of her dress, exposing her demi bra.

Her dark areolae were plainly visible through the lacy half cup. Pulling the

bra cup down, her hard nipple popped out as I bent my head toward her tit.

“Yessss,” she hissed, “kiss me there. Suck me, Billy. Suck my

nipple. You’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, haven’t you?”

“You could tell?”

…End of the part12. To be continued..

I pulled up in front of my mother’s house and beeped the
horn. My daughters, 12 and 10, came running out and I waved at
their Granny as I pulled away.
Melissa, the 12 year old, looked over at me, “Wow, Mom, what
have you been doing? You look a mess”
Krissy concurred from the back seat, “Yeah, your hair looks
terrible.”
I asked them about their day and we went through McDonald’s
Drive-Thru without incident. At home, Frank was just getting out
of his car as we pulled up. He waited and then kissed us all on
the cheeks.
“Hi, Honey. You look like you had a tough day.”
“Yeah, it was long and hard. The girls already told me my
hair was a mess. They just don’t appreciate the effort I went
to, to get it looking this way!”
He tousled it with his hand, “I noticed, but I thought it
looked sexy. How was the traffic on your end?”
I smiled at him, “Well, Dear, the Beltway was a real mess.
I won’t soon forget today’s traffic jam. This one guy was really
zipping in and out, then he got behind me, and he just wouldn’t
get off my ass.”
Frank patted my shoulder, “I know, Julie, there are some
real fucking assholes out there.”
“You can say that again, Honey.”
Maybe the guilt would come later.
Then, again, maybe it won’t!

That evening, we set up our own private party. Just the three of
us in our little private apartment near campus. The light dimmed and
a slow rhythmic beat played in the background. The scent of heavy liquor
was in the air. We sat in the living room on the long leather sofa. All
three of us sat very close to each other. Jennifer sat in between me
and Joe. We laughed at the thought of us three sleeping together, it was
the topic of the night. There were no objections from anyone. Jennifer
was in her quiet little self making remarks here and there.
Somehow, in the midst of our conversation, there was suddenly nothing
else to say. We were quiet….
I saw Joe place his arm around her and started to passionately kiss
her lovely lips. I felt Jen’s hand crawl up my knee and started to carress
my thighs. Joe’s free hand crept up Jen’s mini skirt searching for her
soft wet cunt. I started to get hard seeing the action. I breathed heavily.
My right hand went down Jen’s blouse feeling her soft tan breasts
underneath my fingers. I felt her hand reach up my pants and squeeze and
carress my crotch. I moved closer to her neck and started to lick her sweet
skin. My lips were hot on her neck as my fingers worked to unbutton her
blouse. I felt her hand stroking my hardness through my denim jeans.
hhhhh..hhh….I muttered. I heard Joe’s breath and Jen’s mild moans of
ecstacy in between breaths of kisses. Jen’s blouse soon fell from her
lovely body and I anxiously threw it aside with my free hand. Jen did not
wear a bra, and all her beauty was exposed in front of my eyes. An animal
being took over me and I burried my face between her breasts painting
the beautiful mounds with hot saliva from my tongue. I heard her groan from
the expertise of the men surrounding her. Joe’s hand pulsated in and out
from under her skirt torturing her with wild sensations.
Somehow, Jen managed to unbutton my pants with her free hand and
release my hardened dick from its cage. She gripped it commandingly and
stroked it and squeezed it, my pre-cum instantly dripped from its
head. I played with her hard nipples teasingly with my probing tongue.
I sensed Joe trying his best to unbutton his pants. Jen took over and
finally was able to remove it completely revealing his prized possesion.
With Joe’s free hand, now wet and slippery with cunt juice, started to
stroke himself.
The action was too much for Jen to handle. She squirmed on the
leather sofa and eventually fell on her back with ME on one end and
Joe on the other. All three of us panted furiously as we try rearrange
ourselves to better positions. Jen reached for Joe’s cock and hungrily
inserted it into her mouth alternating the sucking from the head to
his balls and back. *FUCK* I thought. I was given the opportunity to
try out Jen’s wet pussy as her beautiful ass pointed my direction.
On all fours, Jen offered me her sweet cunt. I stood on my knees on the
other end of the sofa and gently entered the sweet offering with my
throbbing dick. It was tight, *Geesus*, it was tight and wet. Ohhhh…
Jen…*FUCK*…In and out I rode her savoring the sensations of every
nerve on my prick. Her muscles inside contracting at every push. I
was leaning on her back and I saw Joe on the other end receiving what
seemed to be a heavenly blow. His face contorted in pleasure, he looked my
way and grinned a devilish grin of sweet pain. He moaned and I moaned,
Jen screamed a little out of sweet pain while I penetrated her deeply.
We were like wolves howling in the night. Jen’s dripping saliva was too
much for my sight to bear. She swallowed Joe over and over and over again.
Our motions and the sight of each other FUCKING was too much for us
to bear. Faster I went, I could feel my prick tingle. Uugghh…unghhh…
Jen…I’m CUMMING…uhhh…*FUCK* “Don’t CUM in her pussy man!” Joe
managed to shout between grunts. “Wait for me to CUM man!…ungghhh..uhh”.
“Hurry Joe!…uhhhh…” I said.
In the back of my mind I knew what he wanted to happen. We always
talked about it when we watched porno movies that someday we’ll get to do it.
Jen stroked and sucked Joe faster that his dick was red and sore. It
was ready to burst. Jen reached her orgasm berfore anything happened. She
screamed a small little scream of pleasure as she continued to suck on
Joe’s prick. “Mmmmhhhm….mhhhhh” she muttered.
“I’m CUMMING man! uhhh…”
“Ohhh man! I’m CUMMING too!…ahhh..uhh” I replied.
Jen pulled away and placed herself between our pulsating pricks.
sucking both of alternately. I came first and spilled my white hot cum
on her face,”Geesus..uhhhh”, soon after, Joe shot his cum on her face
as well, “Ahhh..Jen!..”. Our shots were so strong and violent that Joe
splattered some of his CUM on my body, it was dripping hot, and
I splattered some of mine mine on his chest. Jen licked the CUM stained
flesh on both sides. She slurped every trickle of white sticky sperm on
my navel and on Joe’s prick.
All three of us breathed heavily. Spent, tired, and relieved, all three
of us collapsed on the slimy leather sofa. Our legs and arms entangled
together, with Jen between Joe and I.
Before I drifted into sleep, I remember thinking of what our future
would be…This FUCK is too much for me to take. I really enjoyed it.
I know I would want some more. How long will this relationship last?
Tomorrow is another day, we’ll see how it turns out…*FUCK*

The next few days was strenuous for me. Joe still treated
Jennifer like she was his girlfriend. He came in and out of our
appartment dragging her wherever he liked. It tortured me deep
inside to see Jennifer glance my way everytime she was with Joe.
I was extremely jealous. I became angry at how Joe was handling the
situation. He wasn’t treating me as a friend, he was treating me
like an outcast. He didn’t even consider my feelings towards Jen,
and he acted as if Jen exclusively belongs to him. After what happened
between the three of us, I expected that I would be a part of that
relationship. I was hurting inside. I reconsidered my feelings about
my friendship with Joe. I was flaming with hate. I wanted to punch
him and beat him with my fists. Images of blood dripping down his
forehead, and sore bruises all over his body. For a moment, I thought
of death. I wanted to hurt Joe badly, but I’m too smart for that.
Physical pain is so easy. No…I’m angry because he has what I want.
He should not have toyed with me and offered her body to me. What did
he think? After going for a three-way FUCK, he can parade Jen in front
of me? What the FUCK for? To brag to me that the best FUCKING BITCH
still belongs to him? He can swallow my CUM and eat my SHIT!
If he knew me well as a friend, then he would have considered
my feelings. I always considered his feelings, and that’s the reason
I held back from FUCKING Jennifer and back-stabbing him. I guess
I’m only one of those FUCK ‘friends’ who means nothing to him…I had
to hurt him, I had to teach him a lesson…I’ll FUCK him up really
bad, and he’ll regret he ever FUCKED up with me…
One wednesday afternoon, I came home early from school. I
…End of the part2. To be continued..

“But why did you want sculpture made of bronze?”

“Why? I’ll tell you why,” said the general.

“Because General Minh prefer bronze!”

[Father Goose #51]

Maggie and Tom are a couple with a passion for ice cream. They
stopped at the local ice creamery, then returned to their car with double
scoops of chocolate almond fudge.
No sooner had they settled back to enjoy their cones than two birds
landed on the car hood and began to chirp and flutter and peck at the
windshield. Finally Maggie rolled down her window and placed the rest of
her cone on the hood. The birds quieted down and began to eat the cone.
“Maggie, you’re wonderful,” said Tom. “How did you think
of doing that?”
“Oh, it wasn’t hard to figure out,” said Maggie. “It’s just another
example of stilling two birds with one’s cone.”

[Father Goose #52]

After several years of happy marriage, a man was getting ready for his
anniversary. Their two children had been shipped off to the grandparents -
a very nice dinner for two had been ordered from the local caterer, and he
and his wife were preparing for a very quiet romantic evening at home. He
had already gotten his wife’s anniversary present – a diamond brooch, but
decided that a further touch would be neccesary. His wife had a fondness for
gardening and flowers, her favorite being Anemones, and he thought he would
present her with such a plant to replace one that had been knocked over by
their younger child several days earlier. So, on his way home from work,
just before he picked up the warming tray from the Caterer and the bottle
of champagne from the liquor store (Dom Perignon, of course), he stopped at
the Florist to pick up a live Anemone. Alas, however, the florist had sold his
last one earlier in the afternoon and was not going to get in a new shipment
until Monday. Heartbroken though he was, the man was persuaded by the
florist to instead buy a Boston Fern, which were on sale that week.
Arriving home, after carrying in the food and champagne, the man
presented his wife with the fern, and added that he had another suprise for
her. As he reached for the brooch, he mentioned about his first choice of
plants, and was about to apologize, but his wife stilled him.
“After all,” she said, “with fronds like these, who needs Anemones.”

[Father Goose #53]

It was the time of the year for the caretaker of the Church to
clean, fix, maintain, and restore the character of the Church, and this
year those duties included painting the steeple, which had not been done
in several years. He dutifully went about the work, erecting scaffolding,
and climbing up, taking his paint, his brushes, water to clean the brushes,
and a bit of drinking water, since it was a fairly hot day.
While he was painting, he realized that he would not have enough
paint to finish the steeple, and he did not feel at all like climbing down
the scaffolding and going back to the workshop to mix some more paint.
Seeing the water for washing the brushes, he came up with the idea to
make the paint he had go further, so he added the water to his paint, and
continued on.
As he was nearing completion of the steeple, he realized that the
paint he had, albeit watered down, would still not be enough to finish the
job, so he added what was left of his drinking water and finished the job
with just a few drops of paint to spare.
More releived than anything else, he climbed down the scaffolding
and started to hurry back to his workshop behind the Church, for after all,
he was dehydrated, and his unwashed brushes were beginning to set, when there
was a Clap of Thunder, a Bolt of Lightening, the sky blackened and a
heavenly Voice proclaimed:

Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!

[Father Goose #54]

Three guys, one from Russia, one from Czechoslovakia and one from
Poland, are in Canada for a conference. They decide to take advantage
of their rare visit by doing something that people do when they’re in
Canada.
The Canadian diplomats suggest a camping trip, and, ignoring the
forest rangers’ warnings of recent bear sightings in the area they plan
to visit, the three travelers set off.
Three days later, the men are long overdue. The Canadian forest
service dispatches a search party to the ares, and sure enough, they
discover a ravaged and deserted campsite and three bloated bears lying
dead a few yards away — two she-bears and a he-bear.
One of the team is sent forward to investigate, and he promptly
knifes open the two females. Just as he had feared, the Russian and the
Pole are inside, and the ranger returns to his companions and reports
his findings.
“What about the third guy?” asks one of the team members.
“Oh,” replies the first nonchalantly, “the Czech’s in the male.”

[Father Goose #55]

A revolution in a small African country paralyzed an English
firm that made rare-earth alloys; most of the Muth tribe, which
ran mines producing the needed ores, had been overrun and thrown into
makeshift concentration camps. The new rulers refused to sell any ore,
so the firm hired Glore and Landry, Ltd., basically a private
espionage service, who sent in their best man, Roger Hope. “Do whatever it
takes, Roger,” said Sir John Landry, his boss, “but get that ore moving again.”
Hope was an unorthodox idealist: he gathered together the few Muth
still at liberty and built a guerilla force that broke open the camps and
pulled off a nearly bloodless coup. When he returned to England,
Hope asked his firm to fake his death and help him assume a new identity.
Sir John was amazed. “Is it all the publicity? Will it keep you from
being effective?”
“It’s not that, Sir John,” answered Hope. “It’s just that I’m sick
and tired of being called:
Hope of Glore and Landry, free-er of the Muth.”

[Father Goose #56]

“So, how did the class reunion go?” I asked.
“Kinda fun. Some sad moments, though. Remember Lucy? I found out
she died,” he answered.
“How awful! What happened?”
“She got a job at a chemical plant. Keith Simons was working there.
You know what those two were like. Couldn’t think of anything but sex.” I
nodded. “Anyway, one lunch break they sneaked out to a favorite spot right
in the middle of the factory and started making love. They rolled under a
railing and fell right into a vat of Methyl Orange that some idiot had left
open. Tragicomic, y’know.” He paused for effect. “It reminds me of a Beatles
song.”
“Huh? Which one?”
“Lucy in the Dye with Simons.”
A loyal Beatles fan, I hit him.

[Father Goose #57]

Friar Laurence told Romeo that Juliet was getting very drunk every
night and suffering massive hangovers every morning. Romeo flew to his beloved.
It was true: she was an odd shade of pale green and had bloodshot eyes. At
first she wouldn’t admit why she drank, but at last she confessed that though
she loved him, she couldn’t stand his flatulence. Romeo explained that it
was due to a distant relative, an Englishwoman who had earned the gratitude
of her King and been made Dame Commander of the British Empire [anachronism
here, but there's worse to come], but was now impoverished. Her Italian
relatives, out of sympathy, had made her their cook, and she was feeding them
hearty English fare which disagreed with Romeo’s sensitive bowels. Romeo
kept eating her food because he hadn’t the heart to tell her. But Friar
Laurence, said Romeo, had a solution: in the Veronese catacombs there was a
shrine with relics of an obscure saint. A night of praying there, followed
by a vow that he would control his sphincters, would cure him. Juliet was so
overjoyed that her next speech didn’t quite scan properly:

JULIET: O Romeo, Romeo, therefore fartest thou, Romeo!
Deny thy fodder and refuse thy Dame.
Or if thou wilt not, be butt-sworn, my love,
And I’ll no longer be so crapulous.

Of course they didn’t live happily ever after…

–

[From The San Francisco Examiner, June 9]

International pornography magnate and accused racketeer Reuben Sturman
is converting a landmark North Beach strip joint into a big peep-show
arcade, according to city records.

City building inspectors have allowed the Sturman firm to begin tearing
out the club’s interior, but they want assurances that two of the peep-show
booths will be wheelchair-accessible before they will issue a permit for
remodeling….

–

Why do women have 2 holes so close together?
In case you miss.

Why do women have 2 holes so close together?
So you can carry them home like a six-pack.

What do you call a female clone?
A clunt.

Why did the guy trade in his wife for an outhouse?
Because the hole was smaller and the smell was better.

Why is there a string on the end of a tampon?
So you can floss after you eat.

How does a girl hold her liquor?
By the ears!

How is a woman like a frying pan?
You have to get them hot before you put in the meat.

How is a woman like an airplane?
Both have cockpits.

How is a woman like a road?
Both have manholes.

Which of the group doesn’t belong (eggs,wife,meat,blowjob)?
A blowjob because you can beat the others but you can’t beat a blowjob

Ladies, look down inside your shirts and spell the word attic out loud.

Three mysteries of women:
1. They can give milk without eating grass.
2. They can bleed for a week every month without dying.
3. (My favorite). They can bury a bone without getting their
noses dirty.

What does a woman do to her asshole in the morning?
Sends him to work.

Your wife’s just like a rifle: First she gets cocked and then she blows.

Your wife’s just like a bowling ball: She gets picked up, fingered, thrown
in the gutter, and always comes back for more!

How many male Chauvinists does it take to clean a toilet ?????
None ! Thats womans work.

What two things in the air might get a woman pregnant?
Her feet!

If God didn’t want man to eat pussy, He wouldn’t have made it look
so much like a TACO!

What do you call a hooker with a runny nose?
FULL!!

How can you tell if you’ve been fucking your girl too much?
A: Stick your thumb in her asshole and your middle finger up her snatch,
If you can hear yourself snap your fingers, ease off a little.

How does a women get a mink coat ?
The same way mink gets a mink.

What do the two million battered wives in America all have in common?
They don’t know when the hell to shut up.

———-

A woman goes to the gynecologist with a terrible case of
crotch rot. The doctor takes one whiff & almost passes out.
“My dear,” says the Doc, “this is serious! What you need is Mega Douche!”
“Mega Douche?” says the woman, “What’s that?”
“It’s my own formula! It contains marijuana, talcum powder
& Kentucky fried chicken.”
“Why marijuana, talcum powder & fried chicken?”
“Because you wanna keep that thing high & dry & finger lickin good!”

———–

Three men were sitting on a beach; a fairly good-looking blonde walks by.
The first man says, “I give her a six”; the second, “I give her a 7″; the
third says, “She is a 1.” The other two look at him and wonder. Another
woman walks by. The first man says, “She is an 8″; the second says, “I give
her an 8+”; the third says, “She is a three.” Again the first two men wonder
about him. Then an extremely fine-looking redhead approaches. The first man
says, “She is a 10!” The second man says, “She is an 11!!” The third guy
says, “She is a six.” The other two finally look at him and say, “What is the
matter with you, man?? That redhead is perfect!! Are you weird or
something??”
“Wait a minute–you don’t understand; I use the Budweiser scale.”
“What the hell is that?”
“That’s how many clydesdales it would take to pull her off my face.”

———————————-

How A Pussy Was Made
====================

Seven Wise Men made up their minds
to build then a Pussy of their own Design.

The First was a Carpenter, full of wit,
with a Hammer and Chisel, He made the Slit.

The Second, a Blacksmith, black as coal,
with an Anvil and Sledge, He made the Hole.

The Third, a Rich Tailor, tall and thin,
with a peice of Red Ribbon, He lined it within.

The Fourth, a Furrier, big and stout,
with the Skin of a Bear, He lined it without.

The Fifth, a Fisherman, old and bent,
with a Rotten Herring, He gave it a Scent.

The Sixth, a Preacher, with a B.A. degree,
Patted it, and Felt it, and said it would Pee.

The Seventh, a Rabbi, a Mean Little Runt,
Blessed it, and F*cked it, and called it a C*nt.

—————-

This young rich man was looking for a wife, and had narrowed
his choices down to 3 women. He couldn’t make up his mind on which
one he should marry, so he tested them. He gave each women $5,000
to see what they would spend it on. The first woman went out, bought
furs and jewels, and blew all the money on herself. The second woman
put half of it in the bank, and spent the rest of it on herself. The
third woman bought herself a dress, and many, many gifts for the young
man.
Given these facts, which woman do you think the young man
married?

answer: The woman with the biggest tits, of course!

——————

Chemical Analysis

Element : Woman
Symbol : WO
Discoverer : Adam
…End of the part2. To be continued..

First Woman: “This is very embarrassing, but every time I sneeze, I
have an orgasm.”
Second Woman: “You poor dear! Are you taking anything for that?”
First Woman: “Snuff.”

————

What’s the definition of the perfect woman?
1) She’s three feet tall, has a round hole for a mouth
and her head is flat so you can put cocktails on it.
2) The sports model has pull-back ears and her teeth fold in.
3) The economy model – she fucks all night and at midnight
she turns into a roast beef sandwich and a six pack.

————

Three old ladies were sitting on a park bench when a flasher walked up
to them and displayed his endowments. The first old lady had a stroke,
the second old lady had a stroke, but the third old lady’s arms were too
short to reach.

————

This guy walks into a bar, walks up to the bartender and
says, “I’d like a scotch and soda and I’d like to buy that
douche bag at the end of the bar a drink.” The bartender
says, “Hey, she’s a regular and you can’t be talking about
her that way.” The guy says, “Okay, I’d like to buy that
nice, young lady at the end of the bar a drink.” The
bartender says, “That’s more like it,” and he walks up to
the girl and asks her what she wants to drink. She says,
“Vinegar and water.”

————

A man meets up with an old roomate whom he has not seen for many years.
The roomate has had a sex-change operation. “Was it painful?”, asks the former.
“No, not really” says the second. “How about when they cut off your dick?”
“No that really wasn’t the worst of it.” “Really?” says the first. “How
about when they had to create the new hole? That must have been painful.”
“No the worst part was when they stuck the straw in my ear and sucked out half
my brains.”

————–

Why did God give women nipples?
To make suckers out of men.

Why did the Detroit Lions hire two nuns and a prostiture for the new season?
Because they needed two tight ends and a wide receiver.

Why are clams like women?
When the red tide comes, you don’t eat them.

How does a man know when he’s eaten pussy well?
When he wakes up in the morning and his face looks like a
glazed doughnut.

Did you hear about the new video game for women only, called Dick-Man?
You put a quarter in and get fucked.

I’ve got a joke so funny it’ll make your breast fall off:
Oh…I see you’ve already heard it.

What do you call a virgin on a waterbed?
A cherry float.

What do you do when your Kotex catches fire?
Throw it on the floor and tampon it.

What’s 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1?
Bo Derek getting older.

Did you hear about the new douche powder made of alum, LSD, and Kentucky
Fried Chicken batter?
It’s uptight, outasight, and finger-lickin’ good.

What’s the difference between a light bulb and a pregnant woman?
You can unscrew a light bulb.

What do fat girls and mopeds have in common?
They’re both fun to ride until a friend see you.

Why are women giving up bowling for screwing?
The balls are lighter and you don’t have to change your shoes.

What’s the difference between a job and a wife?
After five years, the job still sucks.

How do you make paper dolls?
Screw an old bag.

What’s the white stuff you find in women’s panties?
Clitty litter.

Bumber sticker: Support E.R.A. – make him sleep on the wet spot.

What do you call a rehabilitation home for ex-prostitutes?
An all-the-way house.

Definition of a wife: “An attachment you screw on the bed to get the
housework done.”

How are an oven and a woman alike?
You have to get them both hot before you can stick the meat in.

Remember what’s worse than getting raped by Jack the Ripper? (Getting
fingered by Captain Hook.) Well, you know what’s worse than that?
Getting eaten out by Jaws.

What’s the purpose of a bellybutton?
To put your gum in on the way down.

Why was the stamp commemorating prostitution so unpopular?
You had to pay an extra ten cents to lick it.

What’s the difference between a hormone and an enzyme?
You can’t hear an enzyme.

How do you make a hormone?
Put sand in the Vaseline.

What’s a cunt that talks back?
An answering cervix.

What do you give an eighty-year-old woman for her birthday?
Mikey … He’ll eat anything.

What do you call a woman who uses too much contraceptive cream?
A spermicidal maniac.

Why do women have legs?
So they don’t leave snail tracks on linoleum floors.

What do you call a hooker with no legs?
A nightcrawler.

What do you call a girl who’s just been run over by a car?
Patty.

Why do female parachutists always wear pantyhose?
So they won’t whistle.

How do you tell when a woman is wearing pantyhose?
If she farts, her ankles will swell.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

[From The San Francisco Examiner, June 9]

International pornography magnate and accused racketeer Reuben Sturman
is converting a landmark North Beach strip joint into a big peep-show
arcade, according to city records.

City building inspectors have allowed the Sturman firm to begin tearing
out the club’s interior, but they want assurances that two of the peep-show
booths will be wheelchair-accessible before they will issue a permit for
remodeling….

–

The weekend after graduation is a particularly dull time for a bottle
shop. Everyone that wants booze has either left town, is still nursing
the worst hangover of their academic life, or is still plowing through
leftover alcohol. Or has to work. Which I was.

The late afternoon sun pounded through the dirty glass of the front,
what little was not covered with signs loudly proclaiming a message of,
in essence, “Get Drunk! Cheap! Here.” The weather in Cambridge had
been particularly lousy, especially for June, our most promising month
until October. But the thunderstorms and rain showers had given way to
a passably nice day. The weather was guaranteed by the owner of the
shore having scheduled me for an all-day shift.

The job sucked, but the alternative was home to Lancaster, PA with my
parents, a fate I would have gladly licked Mass Ave clean with my
tongue to avoid.

I didn’t notice her at first, as all my attention was taken up by
counting out change for a $100 for a young guy who was buying a
newspaper. He had a smile that I’m certain was intended to be
apologetic, and if I had been in a better mood it might have worked,
but I was inconsolable. A line had formed, and she joined the end of
it, not stopping to pick anything up. With each sale, I noticed a
little more of her.

Bottle of wine, $12.95. Short blonde hair.

Two six-packs of Coke, $4.49. About 5′ 8″, blue halter top. Nice
figure.

Bottle of gin, $6.80. Cute, button nose.

She reached the front of the line, and gave me a smile that broke
through my lousy mood. Blue eyes. A little necklace that looked
vaguely Southwestern, all turquoise and silver.

“I’m looking for Cedar Street? Any idea where that is?”

We’re at the corner of Mass Ave. and Cedar. This was going to be a
short encounter. I told her.

“No, no, not that Cedar! Cedar in Somerville. I love Boston, but I
hate driving in Boston.”

We’re in Boston the way New Jersey is in Manhattan, but I wasn’t going
to start that line of conversation.

“Where are you from?”

“California. How about yourself?”

“Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I’m going to Harvard …” I started in, but
I seemed to have said the magic word.

“Lancaster! I have friends in Lancaster.” Reminded me a bit too much
of the Pennsylvania license plates, but she’s gone on. “They’re
members of my sorority, and I just saw them at our June Weekend
reunion. I’m in town for that …”

As she went on, a one-person conversation, I took in her voice (quite
husky, considering her bubbly demeanor) and glanced (with appropriate
discretion, I hoped) up and down her body. She was, well,
well-stacked. Unfortunately, my discretion was insufficient for the
task, and I looked back up to her face to see her smiling at my
regard. As I blushed, she leaned down over the counter.

“Some people get all the fun jobs,” she said, in a low, conspiratorial
voice.

“Uh, yeah.” Witty reply. Clever. That’s right, I thought, wow her
with your intellect.

“Place seems quiet, today” She said, glancing around, stretching
herself. Her elbows sunk slowly onto the countertop. I looked up from
the view thus created by the lowering of the halter-top fabric to see
her looking at me with a smile that had switched from conspiratorial to
something else.

“Think of anything we could do to make the job more fun?” she said.

“Well, it’s cooler in the back.” Shit, I thought, did I say that?

“We could fix that,” she said, turning around and surveying the back of
the store for the door.

“This way,” I managed to gasp out with lungs that didn’t seem
completely under my command. In one fluid motion, I had closed the
register, grabbed a package of condoms from behind the counter, and
locked the front door. No customers in the parking lot, good, just one
car, must be her’s. It looks like there’s someone in it, but nah,
couldn’t be, anyway, who cares?

I led her into the back room. It’s even worse than the typical back
room of a liquor store, whatever that looks like. There are boxes
piled everywhere, both empty and full, the usual collection of posters
proclaiming that all you have to do is drink some terrible brand of bad
American liquor and amazingly women who would scrape you off their shoe
now will fall into bed with you. Not in so many words, of course, but
the message is clear.

She surveyed the scene, with what I assumed was less than complete
enthusiasm. Well, it is a bottle shop, not the Marriott. But when she
turned around, she still has that infectious lovely smile on her face …

“I can cope with this.” She pulled the tank top over her head,
revealing her lovely breasts still in a white bra. The bra came off a
moment later, and she was in my arms, pulling me down to a kiss. And a
very nice kiss it was, very deep and soft. Even with lots of tongue,
there are kisses that are very sharp and angular-feeling, but this was
a lover’s kiss. I still can’t completely explain the difference, but
there you are.

With a plop, the package of condoms dropped to the floor. She somehow
managed to slither out of her shorts while kissing me, and did a
lovely, slow, descent to her knees, running her hands down my chest.
Kissing me through my jeans, she unbuttons them, and applies her mouth
to my already-hard cock with tremendous skill.

“Now …” Lick. “I don’t …” Slurp. “have …” Gulp. “much time
for this,” she finally managed to get out, between licks with her
tongue along my balls, “so let’s be quick!”

Nothing like a little performance anxiety to make an evening special,
but I wasn’t going to turn this down for anything.

She retrieved the packaged of condoms, and (with cardboard and wrappers
flying everywhere) managed to extract one. As she stood up, naked
except for jewelry and shoes, she rolled one onto me with one hand, the
other steadying herself on my shoulder.

“OK, I’ll just bend over like this,” she said, as businesslike as if
she was staging a play. She turned her back to me, and bent over,
steadying herself on a pile of Guinness boxes. She spread her legs,
and one hand spread her lips apart. Amazingly, she was very wet
already, wet enough to…

“Well? C’mon!” she said, always impatient. OK, OK, I was just
enjoying the view. I stepped forward, rubber-clad penis in hand, and
slid it. There was almost no resistance, I was amazed.

I started slowly, with long strokes, but she was having none of it.
She started setting the rhythm, pushing back, in, out, in out. Her
free hand was playing with her clit, and she was starting a lovely
pattern of moans in time with her thrusts. In, out, in out … she
came once, twice as I finally lost control and pounded into her,
grabbing her hips.

She started screaming, loud enough that I was afraid the next door
dry-cleaners would hear. “Yes, yes, YES!” she yelled out as I came,
much faster than I thought I ever would, shaking as my cum poured out
of me.

I staggered back, a bit unsure of my balance, and came out of her with
a pop. She gave a small whimper of displeasure, but was back into her
shorts and tank top (bra in the pocket of the shorts) before I even had
the condom all the way off.

“That was very nice, thanks. I better go, my boyfriend’s waiting.”

“BOYFRIEND!”

“Yeah, he’s in the car. He’ll wonder what’s taking so long.”

“Boyfriend?” OK, I had already said it, but I still wasn’t quite
getting the answer I was looking for.

“Relax, he’s reading a newspaper, and nothing distracts him from that.
Anyway, gotta go! Thank you kindly,” she said, with just a touch of an
affected southern accent. And with a small peck on the cheek, out she
went through the store, unlocking the front door and tearing out of
it.

I staggered into my clothes, cleaned up the condom package debris in
the storage room, and put one condom-package worth of change in the
register (the owner would notice, he’s that kind of guy).

I watched the car pull away, and head down Mass Ave. Even through the
grimy windows, I can see that it was the guy with the $100 driving.

I still don’t understand some relationships.

“Sorry…. I was just making conversation,” I back-pedaled. As I
tried to extricate myself from the mess I was making of ’small-
talk’, I glanced down, and was immediately captured by the
promise of her entire leg, exposed as it was by the split skirt.

“See something you like, Eric?”

“No! I mean yes! I mean, your slip is showing.” See what I
mean. I’m a real conversational giant.

Our eyes locked, and she very deliberately blinked. Twice. “I
don’t know how that’s possible. I’m not wearing one.”

I unbuttoned my coat and leaned forward, ready to respond with
something profound, when I saw her eyes widen with surprise.
“Eric, I see the butt of your gun!” she gasped.

“That’s only fair, I was watching yours earlier.”

“Ahhh, but you see,” she smirked, “I have a much nicer butt than
you.”

“I know…. It’s fantastic. A man could spend a week exploring
it,” I said with a soft laugh, lifting both hands in mock
surrender. “But you win. I don’t want to butt heads with you.
Besides, my head is already sore.”

“I really am sorry about that, Eric. But, if it hadn’t happened
we wouldn’t be sitting here now.” There was a brief pause, and
then she continued, “Tell me what a nice cop like you was doing
in here all by himself.”

“We’re not going to talk about butts are we?” (Thrust)

Something happened back behind her eyes. Her pink tongue
deliberately traced their way over her firm full lips, and she
said, “We can talk about butts if you want to.”

It was like she was reading my mind. There was nothing I’d
rather than talk about than her butt.

“Did you know,” I stammered, “you are one of the rarest of
women?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I could tell she wasn’t at all
sure where the conversation was headed (or should I say ‘butted’
since that WAS the subject of the moment). “You mean that it’s
unusual for a woman to be in here alone? At your table?”

“Relax…. That’s not what I meant at all. What I meant was
since we were talking about butts… I’m a connoisseur of the
female posterior, and yours is spectacular.”

“Thank you, I guess… It is the only one I’ve got.”

“Ohhh, you’ve got it all right. Do you know how rare it is to
see one like yours? I mean a true heart-shaped ass!”

“Heart-shaped?”

“Sure… The way it swells out at your hips, and then tucks in
tight at the … I mean the way it’s shaped. Like a heart.
I’ll bet you’re the first I’ve ever seen in person.”

Listen, buster. An ass is an ass.”

“True, but all asses are not created equal,” I quipped.

“But they all serve the same purpose,” she grinned, “but, as a
connoisseur I’m sure you can explain the difference.”

“The difference is in style. To use your analogy a ‘52 Chevy and
a Porche 924 serve the same purpose. The difference is in the
lines and the form… And if you’ll pardon the expression, how
much fun they are to drive.” I tried to maintain a straight
face, as she chuckled. Then I continued, “The same can be set
for asses, or butts if you prefer. Walk down any street and
observe the female posteriors. Some are so wide they’re measured
in ax-handles, some have sagging buns, some jiggle like bowls of
Jell-O, and some women suffer from that dread malady ‘no-ass-a-
tall’.

I looked over, and her eyes were dancing as I picked up speed.
“On the other hand, some are slim and tight, nicely rounded, or
have fantastic definition. It’s all in the eye of the beholder.”

“Okay, Mr. Expert. What about mine?”

“Like I said, yours is that one-in-a-million, breathtaking, moan-
causing, erection arousing, perfectly proportioned, example of
feminine perfection; a heart-shaped butt. It’s a pleasure to
follow you anytime, anywhere.”

“Down, boy! I think I should throw a bucket of cold water on
you,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Right now I don’t think it would help.”

“So, I take it you liked what you beheld…?”

“I’d like to hold what I beheld.” (Damn, I’m into this repartee)

“Keep me laughing, Big Boy… You just might get your wish,” she
chuckled in reply to my amazing wit, as she reached over and
squeezed my hand.

During this whole con-fab she’d been putting away the Black Jack,
neat. Pop… Pop… Pop… One after another. Not non-stop, but
steady.

I was still working in my first one (at this sitting), so I knew
I was okay. I took a careful look and she wasn’t showing any
effect, YET. But since she was flesh and blood it would only be
a matter of time.

I reached for her wrist, and held it on the table. “Candice,
you’ve been hitting that awfully hard. How about something to
eat?”

“Why not?” she answered. “I want a steak, a baked potato and
a salad. Will you order while I run to the ‘tur-let’?”

“Sure,” I answered. “How do you want your steak, and what kinda
dressing?”

By now she was on her feet, and I was again treated to an eyeful
of the whole enchilada. “Rare, and blue cheese,” she answered.
Her legs were spread, and the one closest to me stuck all that
out of that spit skirt again.

I’m sure she felt my eyes, as the traveled all the way up. From
the tip of the thin black spike-heels, over her thin, fine boned
ankle, across her trim calf, around her slim knee, up that finely
muscled tapered thigh, grazing her tight belly, lingering at her
firm swelling breasts. Oh, yeah…. Quite a package.

She turned and winked at me, over her shoulder as she angled to
the ‘tur-let’. God Damn! She moved like she had ball-bearings in
her hips, and in that tight knit each one of her firm, tight,
independently-suspended buns expanded and contracted, and raised
and lowered, moved forward and backward…. called to me in the
oldest language know to man.

I waved to Janine, and tried to place our order. Janine was
being difficult, so I hoped we wouldn’t get chili. Women! I’d
asked Janine out twice, and she’d refused times. Now, here I am
…End of the part2. To be continued..

A young man wanted to buy his sweetheart a birthday present. So, after due
consideration, he decided on a pair of gloves. Accompanied by his sister, he
went to the ready-to-wear shoppe. He bought a pair of gloves, while his sister
got some panties for herself.

In the delivery, the packages became mixed. She got the gloves while he got the
panties. Without examination of the package, it was sent to his sweetheart.
The following note accompanied the package…

This is to show you that I haven’t forgotten your birthday. I chose
them because I noticed that you are not in the habid of wearing them
when we go out in the evening. If it hadn’t been for my sister, I
would have gotten the long ones with buttons, but she said the short
ones are more in style.

These are a very delicate shade, but the lady I bought them from
showed me a pair that she had been wearing for three weeks, and they
hardly looked soiled. The clerk tried on a pair and they looked very
smart. When you take them off, blow in them, as they may become damp
from wearing. How I wish I could put them on you for the first time.
No doubt many men’s hands will come in contact with them before I have
the chance. I hope you will like them and wear them on Friday night.

P.S. I just think of how many times I will kiss the back of them in
the following years…

–

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.