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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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At the time of this story my Dena was 29 years old, about 5′ 5″
with stylish blond hair. She’s trim and without doubt her face and
ass are her best assets. She is a former state beauty pageant
winner and her features are smooth and defined, like her
personality. She’s a knock out in a bikini and enjoys the attention
she gets form other men.

We had heard of men who encourage and enjoy watching their spouse
have sex with other men. We were fascinated and aroused by reading
such stories in magazines about swinging and mate sharing and I
often fantasized about seeing my wife screw another man. Dena and
I had talked about a threesome but I never really thought it would
happen. That was until four years ago.

Shortly after accepting a new sales position that required
extensive travel I began to suspect Dena of having an affair. The
idea of her falling in love with another man didn’t enter into my
thoughts but I was convinced that she was seeing someone. I
secretly hoped my suspicions were true and often made excuses that
I had to stay out of town overnight when it wasn’t really required.

Many times I would lay awake fantasizing about Dena with another
man as I lay alone in my motel room. I imagined her rushing off to
meet her lover as soon as our nightly phone conversation ended. On
several occasions I waited ten or fifteen minutes and called home
again only to hear up to five minutes of unanswered ringing. I
would do this every half hour or so until around one or two in the
morning she would answer the phone. I always hung up without saying
anything. I never told Dena that I had called back and she never
said anything about going out anywhere.

This behavior continued for about two or three weeks and just when
I had made plans to try and catch her she started answering each
time I called home. Dena began to complain that someone was calling
and hanging up the phone when she answered so I waited much longer
between calls.

I became disappointed because now it seemed that my suspicions were
unfounded or the affair had ended. I began fantasizing about ways
of having her seduced when another set of events began occurring.

I was at our local club having a drink at the bar when a neighbor
I knew only slightly came in and took the stool next to mine. Our
conversation was casual but he asked a question that caused me to
rethink my doubts about Dena and a possible affair.

During our conversation our neighbor asked how I liked my new car.
At first I thought he was talking about my new company car which is
a Buick. I told him that I really liked the car and that I was very
satisfied with the gas milage. It wasn’t until he said how he too
would like to have such a car but that he certainly couldn’t afford
anything so expensive. I knew a Buick was well within his means so
he A) Had me confused with someone else. Or B) Someone driving an
expensive automobile was visiting my house.

Without acting surprised I told my neighbor that I had gotten a
very good deal and that it really hadn’t cost as much as he might
think. This seemed to satisfy him and our conversation moved to
other subjects, although I’m not sure what we talked about because
I was thinking about the strange automobile parking in my drive. I
revived my plans to see if Dena was having an affair.

The following Monday I told Dena that my duties would require me to
be out of town until Friday night. As always she seemed
disappointed but accepted that it had to be. I on the other hand
imagined that she was already preparing to invite her lover into
our bed.

I drove to a local hotel and checked in for four nights. I parked
my car in the hotel’s indoor lot so it couldn’t be easily seen. I
then called Avis and rented a completely different car making sure
it was of a completely different color.

I made the necessary business phone calls from my hotel room but
remained in the room and out of view until darkness. Around 7pm I
called home as I had always done when away. After my brief
conversation with Dena I called room service for dinner and watched
TV. By 9pm I had waited as long as I could.

Driving the rental car past my house I was mildly disappointed to
see only the normal house lights and only Dena’s car in our drive.
I drove around town until I made another pass by our house around
9:30pm. Even more disappointment when I saw only Dena’s car in our
drive. I continued to drive around until I made a third pass by the
house around 9:45pm. Nothing had changed and I was now really
disappointed. I wanted to catch my wife with another man but it
seemed it wouldn’t happen tonight.

I had driven about half way down one of the two main entrance roads
leading to our subdivision when a 530 Mersadies sports car passed
going in the direction of my house. I quickly took the next turn
and turned my car around. The Mersadies tail lights were still
visible and about a quarter of a mile ahead. I closed the distance
between us slightly but made sure to remain well back.

My heart was racing and I was wondering. Was this the car my
neighbor had been talking about? The Merrsadies made a left turn
onto the street our house was on. This had to be the car that had
been parking in my drive I thought. “Please be the car.” I said
aloud to myself. I passed the street leading to my house knowing
that I could see our drive clearly only a few hundred yards ahead.

As I slowed and looked in the direction of my house I saw the
Mersadies head lights as it pulled into my drive. I almost shouted
knowing this had to be my wife’s lover. I turned my car into the
street that ran behind our house. Knowing the house directly behind
ours was vacant I pulled into the drive and killed the lights.

I waited a few minutes then got out of the rental and keeping to
the shadows I slowly jogged into my back yard. Remaining in the
shadows I approached the side of my house and made my way to the
den window. I knew there was little chance that I would be seen but
I had worn dark clothing and was being a quite as possible as I
looked into the window.

There on my sofa sat a man of about 45 years I had never seen. He
was certainly well dressed and clean looking. “So this was Dena’s
lover and I approve.” I thought to myself. Then found myself
wondering how large his cock was and did Dena give this man head as
she had often done for me. If she did give him head did she allow
him to cum in her mouth or did they only fuck straight? Did they
use protection? I hoped they didn’t. For some reason I hoped he
would cum inside Dena.

Dena entered the den carrying drinks. She handed her friend a glass
and sat down beside him. Before taking a drink both my wife and her
friend placed their drinks on the sofa table and locked themselves
in a very passionate embrace. As the kissed I noticed this man was
unbuttoning Dena’s blouse. Dena’s hand was on his crotch and I knew
she was massaging his cock and balls. “I hope he’s hung like a
horse.” I thought.

My own cock was rock hard as I watched the couple before me undress
each other. When the gentleman stood Dena unbuckled his belt. She
unzipped his trousers and tugged them down. As this man stood
before my wife his trousers fell around his ankles as Dena pulled
his jockey shorts down.

I couldn’t see the man’s cock because he was quarter turned away
from me but I could clearly see Dena had his cock in her mouth.
Dena’s hands were slowly stroking this man’s ass and upper legs as
she took him into her mouth. This continued for about a minute when
Dena’s lover turned to sit down on the sofa.

Dena released her mouth hold on his cock and as the man sat down
she got on her knees before him. Clearly she planned to continue
sucking his cock. It was at this time that I saw the man’s cock for
the first time. It was much larger than my seven and one half
inches. I would guess at least 10 or 11 inches in length and very
thick. It was so thick that the head of his cock seemed small.
Almost as if it belonged to a 7 inch cock but was attached to this
massive sausage.

Dena took this stranger’s cock in both hands and began jacking it
as she took as much as she could in her mouth. To me Dena looked
beautiful as she knelt before the man sucking his monster tool. I
was slowly massaging my own cock through my trousers as I hoped
they would continue until he shot his load in Dena’s mouth.

Within a few minutes I had my wish. The man laid his head back and
closed his eyes. I knew he was about to cum and so did Dena. She
was jacking his cock faster now and sucking him as deep as she
could. The man stiffened and Dena slowed her hand and head motion.
I knew he was shooting his load into my wife’s mouth and she
appeared to love it. “Please swallow his cum.” I was thinking as I
shot my own load into my shorts.

Dena did as I had hoped because when the man had finished climaxing
she got up to sit beside him. She said something to him and they
both laughed and took a sip of their drinks. There was no trace of
cum on Dena’s face so I knew she had done as I had hoped and had
swallowed his load. I hoped his cum had been thick and plentiful
but I had no way of knowing.

Dena and her lover sat on the sofa talking, kissing and fondling
each other until I saw the man’s cock begin to come alive again.
Dena bent over a sucked his cock until it was fully erect again
then she stood up. Although her blouse and bra had been removed
earlier she now let her skirt fall to the floor and removed her
bikini panties.

The man pulled my wife to him and began to eat her pussy as she
stood wide legged before him. I sure he couldn’t get to her pussy
very well and he said something to her. Dena laid back on the sofa
and with one foot on the floor and one on the back of the sofa she
offered herself to her lover.

I watched as the man began to eat my wife and slowly jack his own
cock. Since my cock had remained hard the entire time I unzipped my
trousers, now very wet from the load I had shot earlier. Taking my
cock out I began to jack off as I watched the scene before me.

The man continued to eat Dena pussy until I could tell she was
about to cum. He then made his way on top of her and I could
clearly see his cock as it entered Dena’s now very wet pussy. At
first he pushed only the head and perhaps two inches in. Dena’s ass
was moving up to him, urging him deeper into her. The man was
fucking her with only a few inches of his cock when he suddenly
plunged his entire cock into my wife. His balls, again much larger
than mine, slapped against Dena’s ass as he began to fuck her
harder.

Even above the air-conditioning and through closed windows I could
hear Dena. “Oh God! Oh God! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh God Fuck
me!” I felt my balls tighten and my own cum began to shoot as I
watched the couple before me. It was truly beautiful watching my
wife enjoy being power fucked by this stranger. I wanted them to
continue but the man’s body stiffened and he pushed himself as deep
as he could into Dena. I knew he was depositing another load in
places much deeper that I ever had.

It was clear that Dena was enjoying being fucked by this man
because she was having one orgasism after the other. I saw their
combined juices, thick and white, on the shaft of the man’s cock as
he fucked in-an-out. It was slowly running out of Dena’s pussy and
down her ass. So that’s what those stains were on the sofa. I
continued to jack myself as the lovers continued to fuck each other
on the sofa.

I must have jacked myself as they fucked for five minutes or more
when the man’s body stiffened again. Plunging himself deep into
Dena’s pussy he began to shoot another hot load of his semen. I too
shot another load and gave a silent prayer of thanks for allowing
me to witness my wife being so thoroughly fucked.

OFFICIAL CODE SHEET

It has been brought to the attention of the Management there is
extensive use of foul and/or abusive language in the exchange of normal
verbal communication during the course of routine activities pertaining
to the completion of our day-to-day routine. In order to alleviate this
horrendous situation and, at the same time, not impinge on the
individual freedom and originality of our workers, the following numbers
shall be henceforth uttered in lieu of the catchy phrases listed beside
each number.

101 – You got to be shitting me
102 – Get off my fucking back
103 – Beats the shit outa me
104 – What the fuck?
105 – It’s so fucking bad, I can’t believe it
106 – I hate this fucking place
107 – This place sucks
108 – Fuck you very much
109 – Lovely, just fucking lovely
110 – Beautiful, just fucking beautiful
111 – Fuck, shit, piss
112 – I just got fucked
113 – Big fucking deal
114 – Hang it in your fucking ear
115 – Get bent
116 – Ram it, cram it, and rotate it rapidly to the right
117 – Fan-fucking-tastic/Far-fucking-out
118 – Fuck it, just fuck it
119 – Hot shit
120 – Bitching
121 – Tell someone who gives a shit
122 – Don’t get fucking wise
123 – I don’t give a fuck
124 – I didn’t design the fucking thing, I just installed the
Mother Fucker
125 – Kiss my ass
126 – Your ass
127 – It won’t fucking work
128 – Fuck off
129 – Go pound sand in your ass
130 – Who called this fucking meeting, anyway?
131 – You are fucked up beyond all repair
132 – Where the fuck is my drink?
133 – Fuck you
134 – Shove this fucking place up your ass
135 – Oh shit
136 – Go fuck yourself
137 – Up yours
138 – Shove it, you son-of-a-bitch
139 – Answer your fucking phone
140 – Answer your own fucking phone
141 – Half-assed, two-bit, mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch
142 – Fuckin’ A
143 – What a chickenshit outfit
144 – Cram it up your ass
145 – Eat me
146 – That’s un-fucking believable
147 – Your ass sucks canal water
148 – Pardon me – you obviously mistook me for someone who gives
a shit
149 – You’re stroking my bird (var. choking my chicken, waxing
my carrot)
150 – Blow it out your ass

Acronyms:

FUPITA – FUcking Pain In The Ass

SNAFU – Situation Normal All Fucked Up

FUBAR – Fucked Up Beyond All Repair

BOHICA – Bend Over – Here It Comes Again

–

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.

–

29 Reasons why
Beer is better than men

1a. Beer makes you feel better when you have your period.
2a. Beer stains don’t smell funny the next day.
3a. Beer goes where you want it to.
4a. Your beer will always wait patiently for you in the car while
you try on shoes at the mall.
5a. Your beer never suffers performance anxiety.
5b. When your beer won’t get a head up, you can toss it out.
6a. Beer doesn’t stand there tapping it wristwatch.
6b. No woman ever got stood up by a beer.
7a. A beer doesn’t start a fistfight with an ale.
8a. Puking will rid you of that queasy feeling you get when
you made the wrong choice.
8b. Beer doesn’t get drunk and call you at 3am to beg.
8c. You don’t need a restraining order with bad beer.
8d. I never met a beer with a criminal record.
9a. Beer labels come off when you want them to.
10a. When you go to a bar, you can pick up a beer without worrying
about that tan line on his ring finger.
10b. You can pick up a beer in a bar right in front of your mom
and she won’t mind.
11a. Beer never has a bad temper.
12a. A beer won’t throw you into the back seat of a 76′
Datsun and dry hump you under a mercury vapor lamp.
12b. A beer won’t toss you in the passenger seat of a
Mazda RX7 and show you it can go 100MPH on a flat stretch.
13a. A beer doesn’t bring strange people home with it.
14a. Its easy to give beer good head with minimal shaking up.
15a. You don’t have to worry about a gag reflex with beer.
16a. You can have more than one beer in a night without feeling sore.
17a. You can talk to your girlfriends about your beer without it getting
pissed off.
18. You have a good idea where that beer has been before you got it.
19a. No one ever had to sleep in a beer spot.
20a. Beer doesn’t dis’ you because you are a babe.
21a. A beer won’t shove its hand up your dress at your graduation
party.
22a. You don’t have to fake it for a beer. Beer has no ego.
23a. A cold beer is a good beer.
24a. Beer tastes good.
25a. Beer doesn’t leave you. It snuggles around your hips for
a lifetime.
26. A beer doesn’t hate your cat.
27. You can get six at once without taxing yourself.
28. A beer doesn’t mind if you don’t finish.
29. A beer won’t leave the lid up.

–

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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