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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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REASONS WHY GUITARS ARE BETTER THAN WOMEN

(please note, I have eliminated the obvious copies like, “you can have a
guitar all month long”, and “a guitar doesn’t care how many guitars you own”)

1. A guitar has a volume knob
2. If you break a guitar’s G-string, it only costs $0.79 for a new one
3. You can make a guitar scream as loud as you want it to
4. You can unplug a guitar
5. You can finger a guitar for hours without it complaining it wants more
6. Other people can play your guitar without it getting upset
7. You can finger a guitar in public and get applause, not arrested
8. You can have a guitar any color you want and noone will care
9. If your guitar gets loose, you can just tighten up the strings
10. If your guitar doesn’t make sounds you like, you can change pickups
11. You can use four fingers at a time on a guitar
12. If your guitar strings are too heavy, you can just get a lighter set
13. You can have a guitar professionally adjusted to *your* liking
14. If you scratch a guitar’s back, it’s unintentional, not required
15. You can go to a guitar shop and play all the guitars you want for free

Now, for the opposite:

REASONS WHY WOMEN ARE BETTER THAN GUITARS

1. Women are more fun when the power goes out
2. You can’t get your guitar wet
3. Ever try to screw a guitar?
4. The input to a guitar is only 1/4″ (ouch!)
5. A guitar won’t beg to be played
6. It’s no fun to tie your guitar to a bed and spray whipped cream on it
7. When playing a guitar, you can use your teeth, but not your tongue
8. Guitars aren’t very aggressive
9. A guitar won’t play you back
10. You need two hands to make a guitar scream
11. A guitar won’t scratch *your* back
12. A guitar won’t drive you home if you’re too drunk
13. A guitar doesn’t care who plays it
14. You can’t play two guitars at once
15. You can’t fall in love with a guitar (awwwwwww, gee, how sweet
(well, maybe you can, but they can’t love you back)

These are my own. I get sick of regurgitated ones. I hope you like them.

–

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..

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..

I remember the first time I met her. She worked at a car
rental agency at the airport. I had reason to be in the terminal most
every night and we struck up a casual conversation. This went on for
several months. She was about 5′8″, 145 lbs, brown hair and brown
eyes. Her figure was shapely, and her breasts small but very
attractive. Because of her job, she dressed conservatively, but there
was a very sexy quality about her. Occasionally her blouse would gap
a bit and I would get a glimpse of her bra covered breasts. I was
fascinated. She had a wonderful personality. There were many people
around always so our conversation was casual.

One evening, I was dropping a co-worker at her residence and
was invited in by her mother for fresh cookies. I was about to go in
and received a radio call that I was needed at the airport, at the car
rental counter. Well, so much for the chocolate chip cookies. Duty
called. I got to the airport, about a 5 minute drive, and went in.
She had some information that I had asked about. We joked around and
I mentioned that as much as I needed the information, it cost me some
chocolate chip cookies. We laughed about it and I went on my way.

The next evening, I received another call to the airport. I
went in and there on her counter was a plate of fresh baked chocolate
chip cookies. We talked a bit, over cookies and her customers and
again I went on my way.

Being in a high visibility occupation, I was forced to be very
cautious in my dealings with women, especially since I was married. I
did get brave and wrote a note that said, simply, “Good Morning Lovely
Lady,” sealed it in an envelope and secretly dropped it into her purse
that sat open on the side counter. I figured that in the morning she
would notice the envelope and open it.

Coming back to the present, the rain was now falling as a very
wet snow, and was starting to accumulate on the windshield of my car.
I had the radio on the local soft music station, and had to start the
engine to generate some heat as the outside temperature was about
freezing. A car’s headlights pulled into the deserted terminal, but
it was just turning around.

It was a few days after the “note in the purse” incident
before I saw her again. She tried to seem annoyed at my greeting, but
didn’t act the part very well. I could tell she was pleased. I had
to be careful about spending too much time at the airport for fear
that someone would “notice.”

A couple weeks went by and my wife had a chance to fly off to
a city about 700 miles away and then drive back. She would take the
children. Without much thought, I encouraged her to go as I knew that
she would enjoy the trip and get to see her parents. She would be
gone about a week.

I was working day shift, which ended at 3pm. Saturday came
along and I was off after the shift for two days. What to do with
Saturday evening? There was nothing much at the theaters and even
less on TV. I still had need of some information at the airport so I
decided that probably a little off duty work was in order. I decided
that I would call her up and see if the plane was going to be on time.
My heart leapt as she answered the phone. We talked a bit and she told
me that the plane was running a couple hours late so she was going to
go home and feed her children and then come back as her husband was
out of town. We talked a bit more and the subject of the fantastic
milk shakes at the local drive-in restaurant. They were known
everywhere. I said, in jest, “Why don’t I buy you one after the
flight leaves.” She said “That would be great!” Boy was I surprised.
We agreed that after the plane left we’d meet in the airport parking
lot and go for a shake.

The next two hours were endless. I couldn’t believe that she
was going to spend a little time with me. I actually paced the floor
in my apartment!

The plane came and went and I didn’t get the information that
I wanted. I went out to my car and she came out shortly. She was
wearing a clear rain jacket, a zippered blue jean coat and grey
slacks. I couldn’t see what else she had on. She suggested that we
go in her car as it was less known in the area. We went over to the
drive up window and got two strawberry shakes. We pulled into the
parking lot like a couple of teen agers and shut off the car. We sat
in the car and watched it rain while we enjoyed the shakes. She
un-zipped her raincoat as it warmed up in the car. She eventually
un-zipped the jeans jacket also and disclosed a sheer white blouse.
The dim lighting failed to reveal the exact design, but it was very
alluring. We talked well past the shakes, and I asked if she’d like to
go for a ride. She said she would and would I drive? I moved to the
driver seat and we headed for an ocean overlook about 20 miles away.

It was snowing harder now as my wait at the ferry terminal
lenghtened. She had said about what time she’d be there but I had
gotten there early. My windshield was completely snow covered, but
the snow was so wet that it wasn’t sticking on the ground. I sat
back. turned up the music a little and let my mind wander.

We had sat at the overlook for awhile and just talked. It had
stopped raining and a few stars could be seen. Finally I just sat
looking at her and she at me. I reached over and kissed her. Our
tongues met and we held each other tightly. I reached inside her
jacket and felt her breasts. They were fairly small but firm. She
reacted immediately to my touch. The blouse covering them was silky
and pleasant to the touch. I slowly un-buttoned it, one button at a
time. Her bra was white, and substantial. I lowered the straps and
un-hooked it. We sat and enjoyed each other for awhile and decided
that this overlook was a bit too public. We drove back toward town
and went up to the community college, deserted at this hour. We
parked on a side road and continued our exploration of each other.
She began to feel guilty and we didn’t make love that night. We sat
for a long time and finally she dropped me back at my car.

The ten o’clock news came on the radio and it was now raining
again, dissolving the wet snow that had been falling. A car pulled
into the terminal and went slowly past. I could see that it wasn’t
her, but some other lady apparently on her way to a rendezvous. She
stopped at the other end of the parking area and someone got out of a
car and into hers. They drove off. I watched it as the rain turned
to snow again. She said she’d meet me as close to 10 o’clock as she
could. The news ended and the music began again. It rained harder.

I thought back to another rainy, stormy night when I was
working swing shift, which ended at 11pm. She called about 10:30pm
and said that she had to be at the downtown ferry terminal to meet the
11pm ship. I told her I’d stop by. It was quiet so I got to leave a
few minutes early. She was there and we got into my car and headed
south out of town. We had very little time as we were both expected
home. We stopped at a secluded wayside and were in each others arms
immediately. I undid her blouse and front closing bra and rubbed her
nipples. They became instantly hard and her breath became short and
ragged. I slid her slacks down over her narrow hips and removed her
bikini panties. I removed my pants and entered her. I stroked her in
and out and satisfaction came to both of us almost immediately there
on the front seat of my car. There wasn’t time for formality, but we
had to have each other. We drove back to town and she sat very near
to me. We talked about little things and each secretly hoped that
this wouldn’t be the last timewe would be together.

I could see her car’s headlights coming some distance off as
the snow began to fall again. She pulled up and I got into her car.
We drove off and headed north. We finally pulled into a small road
that lead to a private harbor, totally deserted this time of the year.
We stopped in the parking area and shut off the car. We were
immediately in each other’s arms. Both of us had good reasons to be
away from home this evening so there was no pressing rush. I felt of
her breasts thru her jacket. I could feel her arousal already. She
was wearing a jacket, sweatshirt, sweater, blouse, camisole, and
bra,along with heavy slacks. I commented that she was quite dressed,
even considering the weather. She said that the reason was that she
wanted to see me but knew we shouldn’t make love so she “covered it
all up.” We slowly removed her clothing (and mine). Her bra was
dainty and lacy. It was totally dark but my fingers gave me a better
picture of it that I could have gotten with some light. I finally
entered her and began slowly stroking my cock in and out of her
warm,wet love canal. I took deep, loving strokes and I could feel her
tensing up. She started to climax and just kept on the pinnacle of
ecstacy as I tried to slow my own excitement. She stayed on the peak
of climax for what seemed like forever. I finally couldn’t stand it
any more and I shot the biggest load of cum that I had ever given into
her. I continued to move in and out of her as she subsided. Finally
we napped in each other’s arms as the rain fell and the wind rocked
the car.

It soon became cold and we awoke and slowly dressed. We each
knew that this would be the last time for us as I was being transferred
as was her husband. We drove slowly back to the terminal where my car
was parked and each went our separate ways. The rain was still falling
as we parted and we promised each other that when we heard very hard
rain on the roof, we would think of each other and to this day, I
remember our Dark and Stormy Night whenever it rains.

I am a 29 year old male and work for a medium size corporation in
Long Beach. I am single but have a 27 year old girlfriend that
would knock the socks off any man. Mandy is five seven, blonde hair
and blue eyes with the most fantastic body ever. She worships me
and we get along great. Best of all, when I want it, she never says
no. That is why I can’t figure out why what happened, happened.

In our office, there are a few young attractive women and a lot of
women in the 35 to 45 age range. All or most of them are married
and have families. This one lady, Peggy, is about 40, oriental,
very attractive for her age and her figure is still dynamite. She
has nice medium-size breasts and shapely legs. She has a few lines
in her face but her hips have a motion to them when she walks on
her high heels that attract any man’s eyes. Peggy is a real
sweetheart. She is always kind and considerate. She always dresses
very professional and is the last woman I would suspect of having
an office affair.

So, we were working on a project together one week and spending a
lot of time working in the file room. The file room is in the
basement and is pretty secluded and there is almost never any one
in there. This is a large room with row after row of four drawer
file cabinets. There is really too much stuff in there for the size
of the room because the aisles are rather narrow. On our second day
down there, Peggy was wearing a long, conservative white dress and
white high heels. I had seen her in this dress before. She was made
up as usual and actually looked quite attractive. We were both
working in the end aisle which had only one way in and out. It was
so narrow that we could not squeeze past each other without making
body contact. That morning as I squeezed past Peggy a couple of
times, I noticed two things. First, she was wearing some kind of
perfume that drove me nuts. Second, her dress was a wrap around
type that was tied at the waist and I don’t know if it was the
tight quarters or what, but as I squeezed past her and looked down
over her shoulder, I could see part of her very sexy white lace and
satin bra and, of course, what was in it. The next time I had to
squeeze past her, I got an even better view of her cleavage and it
was starting to arouse me.
A little while later, Peggy asked me a question and as I turned to
answer her, I noticed that the edge of her dress was caught on a
file drawer and as she had turned away from the drawer, it had
pulled the bottom of her dress open enough to expose her right leg
to me. I was stunned for just an instant by the sight of her very
sexy leg and the fact that she appeared to be wearing stockings
instead of pantyhose. All I could see was just a hint of what
appeared to be the top of a stocking.

Then, she must of felt a draft or something and I told her she was
caught at the same moment. She quickly turned away, embarrassed and
apologizing. Over the next couple of hours and through lunch, all
I could think about was what I had seen and how excited it made me.

After lunch, things went on as normal until about three o’clock. I
had been working at the end of the same aisle as Peggy. She was
about half way down from me working with a drawer in front of her
open, one behind her open, and one behind and just a little past
her open. I had an arm full of files I was carrying out and alerted
her that I was coming down the aisle. She tried to hurry and make
way for me but just as I got to her she pushed the drawer in front
of her closed and quickly turned and closed the one behind her in
one fluid motion. At the same moment, I reached her position and
slipped on a pen on the floor. The result was amazing.

The tie from her dress had gotten caught in the drawer in front of
her when she closed it and as she turned to close the drawer behind
her, it pulled loose. Feeling something was wrong as she was
closing the drawer behind her, she turned quickly back toward the
first drawer and in so doing, got the edge of her dress caught on
the drawer behind her. As it slid closed, it pulled her dress
apart. A fraction of a second later, I step on the pen, slip, drop
files everywhere so I can catch hold of something to keep from
falling. I end up pressed against Peggy with her back against the
file cabinet. Her dress was open and her sexy white lace and satin
covered body was before me. Our faces were a few inches apart and
I was suddenly seized by the impulse to kiss her sexy red lips. I
did it. I kissed her on the mouth for just an instant. She didn’t
do anything but just look at me. I moved my lips forward and kissed
her again. This time, it was longer and she started to respond. As
she responded her mouth opened slightly and her lips became softer
and wet and warm. My hands moved up to her sides and gently took
hold of her. “NO! Neal, I can’t. We can’t.” she said and turned her
back to me.

I was so hot for her and I had a huge hard-on. I started to kiss
her neck as I whispered that it was alright and that no one need
ever know that we enjoyed each other one afternoon. As I kissed her
neck, my hands slid up the front of her torso and found her soft,
full breasts in her bra. She was moaning softly as I started to
caress her. Then she said, “No Neal, please. We can’t. I am
married.” as she said it she pushed my hands from her breasts. I
was too fired up to quit so easily. I whispered to her, “Yes we
can. Just this once. No one will ever know.” and as I said it, I
started to kiss her neck again and my hands found her breasts
again. She moved my hands away again but they were quickly back.
This time she didn’t move them away and as I caressed her through
her bra, I could feel her nipples harden. I felt her gently push
her body back against mine and when she felt my stiff cock against
her ass, she moaned.

My right hand slid down to the string tie that was holding part of
the left side of her dress across the front of her body and untied
it. She kept whispering, “No. No. No.” but her body was saying yes,
yes, yes. My hands now reached up and slid her dress from her
shoulders, down her arms and off. I quickly tossed it onto the file
cabinet. Her back was still to me but I didn’t care. What she was
wearing excited me like never before. She wore a white lace
garterbelt that matched her bra. Her panties were high cut and
white silk with only thin straps across her hips. My hands had
returned to her breasts and I was now rubbing my erection against
her silky panties. My fingers slipped into the cups of her bra and
found her erect nipples, but it was so tight and confining that I
couldn’t do anything. Her breasts needed to be freed. My fingers
found the clasp of her bra between the cups and popped it loose.
Then I slowly peeled the cups back to release her breasts. As I did
so, she moaned slowly and deeply. She whispered, “I haven’t been
touched like this in six years. OH GOD! it feels so good.” Her
posture had changed as I now pinched her nipples. She was bent
slightly forward with her ass pushed hard against me. Finally I
slid my right hand down to the crotch of her panties and found them
to be hot and wet. It excited me so much that I almost came. I
started to rub her through her panties and her moans grew louder
and more intense. I couldn’t stop now, I had to have her.

She had finally given in and had reached her hand back and was
stroking me through my pants. I moved my left hand down and opened
my belt and fly. My slacks slid down my legs to the floor. She
grabbed hold of me through my underpants but wasn’t satisfied. She
started to push them down my leg and I helped her. My cock was free
and harder than ever before. She stroked it like an expert.

She was wearing her panties outside the straps of her garter belt.
I grabbed her panties and slid them down to her ankles where she
kicked them off. Then she parted her legs and I slid my hand right
down and a finger right into her. She was almost coming instantly
and I decided it was time. She bent forward more and pushed her ass
up and back. I bent my knees a little and positioned myself
directly behind her. I guided my cock to her waiting pussy lips and
then with one thrust, buried it into her. She was now screaming at
me to fuck her hard. I was pushing into her hard and she was
meeting my thrusts. She felt so good. Her pussy was actually
massaging and sucking on me. No woman had ever felt like this
…End of the part1. To be continued..

[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?”

–

1. You can always turn on a car.
2. You are always in the driver’s seat.
3. You can drive a car anywhere.
4. You can share a car with your friends.
5. The car will always do what you make it do.
6. You can always buy a new one if you want to.
7. A car doesn’t complain about lack of attention.
8. If a car breaks down, you can always fix it up right.
9. A car doesn’t mind if you drive around in other cars.
10. There’s enough room in a car for 4 to 6 people.
11. You can swear at a car, up and down, and it won’t get offended.
12. If you kick a car, it will still run strong.
13. You can toot a car’s horn anytime and it won’t get upset.
14. You can feed a car and it will go as far as it can for you.
15. A car won’t give you any suprises no matter how many times
you get in and out of it.

Remember:
Man’s equivalent of a woman’s diamond ring is a car.

–

Read this and weep, oh you millions who lust after dinosaur dingdongs.
This is the true story of a young girl, tender in years and thoughts,
who met RUINATION at the hands of yet another slick Hollywood type, the
one and only potentate of the preschool set, BARNEY.

Friday, July 30
Dear Diary:

Wow, I’m so excited! Today I got my first job! It’s just too way
totally cool, too… I mean, right out of Peoria College of Television
Arts and Advertising Sciences and like I already have a JOB! Oh, I am
so happy. I can’t wait. I am going to be – get this, Diary Dear! – the
PERSONAL ASSISTANT to Barney the Dinosaur on the smash PBS educational
show! WOW, huh? I will be making seven big ones an hour, too!

Can’t wait to tell that snatch Debbie Fartgold about ye jobbe. She was
such a twat when she got that job as – woooooo, hold down the excitement
– software development coordinator at Jap-o Electronics, or whatever it
was called. Like I don’t know what SOFTware she’s developing! HAHA.

Monday, August 2
Dear Diary:

Today was the absolutely most STUNNING day of my whole LIFE. I got to
meet BARNEY, that beloved cuddly purple amphibian of MILLIONS and *I* am
his RIGHT ARM. He told me so! Really! Just like I mentioned to Mom
when I got home – he told me that I would be needing my right arm soon,
as his was getting pretty tired of doing it all himself! I see a lot
more RESPONSIBILITY coming my way, and maybe more $$$$$$$$! Soon I will
have my OWN TELEPHONE.

Mom says that Barney is not an amphibian. She says he’s an
“abomination”, whatever that is. I never saw that in MY biology book.

Tuesday, August 3
Dear Diary:

I think – and I would not dare to tell ANYbody but you this, Dear Diary
– that Barney LIKES me!!!!!!!!! He wants to do me a favor, he said so!
He put his arm around my shoulder and said “I love you, you love me -
let’s do each other, huh?”

He must have been sort of speechless by my presence, ’cause he forgot to
say “a favor”. Well, when you are a BIG STAR like Barney, you’re under
a lot of pressure. I know that too, ’cause he said the pressure in his
pants was getting BIG. Poor Barney! I’ll have to have some sharp words
with his tailor. Imagine keeping a STAR in pants he’s outgrown!

Wednesday, August 4
Dear Diary:

Barney is such a KID at heart! Today he asked me to play “Squeeze the
Play-Dough” with him! He has the greatest colors of Play-Dough, too…
sort of purplish. They must have made it especially for him. He likes
to make big purple bananas with it, I think. He asked me if I wanted to
taste his banana and waived it around in my face while I was hemming up
his new bigger pants.

It’s so nice to be around someone with a sense of HUMOR for a change.

Thursday, August 5
Dear Diary:

Boy, am I dumb! That wasn’t Play-Dough at all! It must be some kind of
new gum, ’cause when I put a little of it in my mouth to taste today, it
was sort of rubbery and then squirted all over my teeth!!!! It didn’t
taste too grapey, though. I told Barney they needed to work on the
flavor. He just sort of grunted and told me he’d eat some Now ‘n’
Laters tonight. Whatever that means.

I LOVE MY JOB!!!!

Friday, August 6
Dear Diary:

HE LOVES ME, I know it. He brought me CANDY today! It was a big
squooshy block of what he called Laffy Taffy! I pulled and pulled and
he just hooted and hollered and we had a GREAT time!!!!

I must admit that he seems to like that kind of candy with the squirty
stuff, though. The candy was just like the gum. He likes it when it
squirts all over my mouth and runs down my chin. Oh well! That’s why I
carry a hankie!!!!

Monday, August 8
Dear Diary:

I never realized that his job had MEDICAL and DENTAL benefits, too! It
is just SO COOL. Barney told me today that my wisdom teeth needed a
good swabbing, and offered to do it himself! I told him I was scared of
dentists, so he kindly offered to blindfold me. He is SO THOUGHTFUL.

Barney is a GENIUS. *It did not hurt a bit!!!!!* He strapped me in his
chair (if I wiggled too much I might get a nasty surprise, he said) and
then put the blindfold on. I must admit I gagged a bit when he put the
“swabber” in my mouth – it went all the way to the back of my throat!
He told me that my tonsils looked pretty grungy too, so he pushed and
pushed and pushed until he got the “cleaning solution” ready and then
popped it right down my throat. Boy, did I smile after that! My teeth
must SPARKLE! It took him almost twenty minutes to get those tonsils
clean!

Tomorrow he said he would show me how to be a “parts model” – all the
big magazines are looking for girls with clean thighs, he said. THIS
COULD BE THE BIGTIME FOR ME!!!!!

Tuesday, August 9
Dear Diary:

Barney IS SO NICE. Today he let me take a nap on his bed!!!! Imagine,
ME, just another girl from Peoria, lying on a real Hollywood style
couch! I must have been really tired, ’cause after I drank that glass
of grape juice Barney gave me, I got soooooo sleepy I just conked right
out! I must have slept for HOURS too, because when I woke up I was all
stiff and sore.

Oh Diary, you’re the only one I could whisper this to: I think I peed
myself in my sleep! How embarrassing! When I woke up I was all wet and
sticky from my you-know-where to my knees!

I have to lay off the grape juice, though, cause all of that pee-pee was
sort of purple.

Thursday, August 18
Dear Diary:

Didn’t go into work all this week. Feeling a little sort of queasy in
my tum-tum.

Tuesday, September 21
Dear Diary:

Sorry I haven’t written much lately, Dear Diary. I had to quit my job.
Barney told me I was getting fat and he didn’t like fat chicks around.
Haven’t been eating much, but my tummy is getting bigger every day.
Must have been all that candy I ate when I was happy and still with my
beloved Barney-buns.

I still like to sit and think about those happy days, pulling the taffy
with Barney, playing dentist and patient, and taking those restful naps.
Boy, those naps were refreshing. I always woke up kind of sore, but I
think it’s ’cause Barney’s couch. It called it is “hump couch” but I
think he meant “lump”. Sometimes it was hard to tell when he had that
cigar in his mouth.

Wednesday, October 1
Dear Diary:

The WEIRDEST THING has happened to me!!!!!!!! When I woke up this
morning, there were hundreds of FROGS in my bed! Can you IMAGINE?

Even weirder, though is… they call me “Mom”!

**************************************************************

Why don’t men trust women?

Would _you_ trust anything that bled for three days and didn’t die?

–

1. Each player shall furnish his own equipment for play – normally
one club and two balls.

2. Owner of the course must approve equipment before play may
begin.

3. Play on a course must be approved by the owner of the hole.

4. Unlike outdoor golf, the object is to get the club in the hole and
keep the balls out of the hole.

5. For most effective play, the club should have a firm shaft. Course
owners are permitted to check shaft stiffness before play begins.

6. Course owner reserves the right to restrict the shaft length,
so as to avoid damange to the course.

7. Players are cautioned to play the correct hole, as indicated by
the course owner.

8. The object of the game is to take as many strokes as necessary until
the course owner is satisfied that play is complete. Failure to do
so may result in being denied permission to play the course again.

9. It is considered bad form to begin playing the hole immediatedly upon
arrival at the course. The experienced player will normally take time
to admire the entire course, with special attention to well-formed
bunkers.

10. Players are cautioned not to mention other courses they have played or
are currently playing to the owner of the course being played. Upset
course owners have been known to damage a player’s equipment for this
reason.

11. Players are encouraged to have proper rain gear along, just in case.

12. Players are advised to obtain the course owner’s permission before
attempting to play the back game.

13. Players should assure themselves that their match has been properly
scheduled, particularly when a new course is being played for the
first time. Previous players have been known to become irate if they
discover someone else playing what they consider to be a private
course.

14. Players should not assume a course is in shape for play at all times.
Some players may be embarrassed if they find the course to be
temporarily under repair. Players are advised to be extremely tactful
in this situation. More advanced players will find alternate means
of play when this is the case.

15. Slow play is encouraged; however, players should be prepared to proceed
at a quicker pace, at least temporarily, at the owner’s request.

16. It is considered outstanding performance, time permitting, to play the
same hole several times in one match.

17. The course owner will be the sole judge of who is the best player.

18. In some states, it is illegal for a course owner to require (or for a
players to offer) a greens fee in excess of the price of dinner.
Course owners must be careful that play not be proposed to members of
the vice squad.

19. Players are advised to think twice before considering membership at
any given course. Additional assessments may be levied by the course
owner and the rules are subject to change. For this reason many players
prefer to continue to play several different courses.

20. It is considered bad form to reveal your score to other players,
or even that you have played the course.

–

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!”

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