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“Ooooooooooooooooooohhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm…” Harold aped, sitting in an
identical position in across from him.

“Repeat after me.” Michael said quietly. “Owha…”

“Owha…”

“Tajer…”

“Tajer…”

“Kiyam.”

“Kiyam.”

“Now repeat the whole thing.” Michael said.

“Ohwa… Tajer… Kiyam…” Harold droned, eyes closed.

Michael got up a bit stiffly, and said, “I’ll be back in a few
minutes. Keep repeating this, a little faster each time, until I return.”
and closed the door quietly behind him. He limped down to the kitchen (that
lotus position gets harder on the knees every year) and grabbed a couple
beers.

As expected, when he got back, Harold was not chanting. Instead he
glared at Michael with all the indignity he could muster. “Very funny.”

Michael sat in the recliner. “That, my dear boy, was the Tibetian
Mantra for Self Realization.” He grinned, “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.
Besides, if you really were a jerk, you would have still been chanting when
I got back, and then I’d have *known* there was no hope for you.”

Harold glared a moment longer, then they both broke up laughing.
Wiping a tear from his eye, Harold said, “Still, it was a cheap shot.”

Michael leaned forward, offering Harold a beer. “Actually, it was
intended to illustrate a serious point. To wit: just because you’ve fooled
yourself into believing something, that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Harold popped the top on the can, which promptly foamed into his lap.
“Shit.” he grunted, looking around for a towel. “You mean I’ve been wasting
my time this last two weeks with all this meditation stuff?”

“Not at all. You are becoming quite adept at controlling your
voluntary reactions and senses. You haven’t complained about the heat here
at all for the last several days.” Now that Harold thought about it, he
really wasn’t feeling the heat at all. Michael continued, “In fact, I’ve
never seen anyone advance so fast. No, I’d say you’re well on your way to
conquering your ejaculation problem. It’s your other problem I’m really
concerned about.”

“Oh? And just what problem is that?” Harold asked suspiciously.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. Your insistance that you
define your sexual abilities by the ability to postpone orgasm. I think
you’re going to find that that doesn’t mean very much in the real world.
What you’re really lacking is confidence and self-knowledge. You need to
know your capabilites and trust in them in order to BE capable. Being able
to have intercourse as long as you like is a fine thing, but you’re going
to find that not that many women are going to be impressed by that ability
alone.”

Harold was shaken. “You mean this isn’t going to solve my problem?”
Michael rolled his eyes upwards. “At last he begins to see the light.
I talked to Julie the other day and she says-”

“You’ve talked to her?” Harold interrupted anxiously. “Where is she?
How’s she doing?”

“Calm down, calm down. She’s doing fine, she just has a few things to
work out. She actually called to see how you’re doing. Apparently that
night you shared together has affected her as strongly as it did you.”

Harold’s eyes became dreamy “Wow.”

“Anyway,” Michael continued drily, “as I was saying, Julie commented
that your abilities were quite remarkable. Yet you persist in believing
that you are inadequete, just because one person told you that you were.
That shows a very serious lack of self confidence. Do you see what I’m
saying?”

Harold thought it over a long moment. “Maybe… But how do I get this
confidence?”

“You have to know yourself.” Michael concluded. “And doing this is not
the easiest thing in the world. You have to go out and do things. You have
to explore. If you just sit around being a mass of untapped potential then
you will never know what that potential is. You cannot be confident in
something you do not know.”

“Okay,” Harold said, a bit confused, “So what’s all this got to do
with what’s going on right now?”

“I’m glad you asked. I think it’s time we tested some of that
potential right now.” Michael got up and opened the door. “Diane,” he
called. A moment later one of the most stunning women Harold had ever seen
in his life walked in. “Harold, this is Diane. Diane, Harold.”

Diane offered her hand and Harold took it briefly. “Hello, Harold.”
she said, in a low, husky voice. She stood about six inches shorter than he
did, and had a lithe, well-proportioned body. Harold felt almost helpless
to prevent his eyes from travelling downward, from her shoulder-length
auburn hair to small, pert breasts contained in a red tank-top to long,
tanned legs, very well set off by her rather brief white shorts. Suddenly,
self-consciously, he jerked back up where her beautiful hazel eyes met his
in a penetrating gaze. She slipped her hand from his and walked over to the
window, hips swaying just the right amount to hold his attention captive.
Then she turned back to him and stood there, one hand on cocked hip, fixing
him again with that gaze.

Harold swallowed hard and shoved one hand in his pocket, to conceal
the bulge that was growing there. There was nothing physically remarkable
about this woman. All her power and sexuality was in the way she moved, the
way she held herself. As Tom had often said: “It’s not what you got so much
as how you show it.” A wave of pure lust swept over Harold. He wanted this
woman more than any he had ever seen in his life, yet her self assurnace
frightened him, as if telling him this was more woman that he could ever
handle.

Then Michael cleared his throat and the spell snapped. Diane relaxed
and became a mere mortal again, leaning against the windowframe and
grinning like someone who had just played a grand joke. Harold felt as if
he had been doused with cold water from the inside out and the bulge in his
pants quickly receded. He swallowed drily. “That’s… some act.”

“Thanks.” She said, her voice now quite ordinary. “I always get a kick
out of doing that. Before I came here, guys used to ignore me in droves.
Now I can get ‘em drooling any time I please. I don’t do it very often, but
it’s nice to know that I can.”
“Diane came here about four years ago.” Michael said, in his best
college professor voice. “Her circumstances weren’t all that different from
yours, in fact. She felt she had all kinds of faults and deficiencies, but
her biggest problem was that she simply didn’t know herself. Under my
guidence, she quickly learned who she really was and what she could do.” He
turned to her and asked, “What was it you were doing before you came here?
I forget.”

She appeared to ponder it for a moment. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot
about it. I was waitressing down at Ptomaine Palace for minimum wage and
living with this guy who would slap me around because he said sex with me
was ‘boring’. Finally the fucker ran off, leaving me with a lease I
couldn’t afford to pay. My fondest fantasy is to track him down someday and
put his ass in the hospital.” A feral gleam suddenly appeared in her eye
and Harold felt a chill running down his spine. “Anyway, after the landlord
threw me out a friend introduced me to Michael. After hearing my story he
gave me free room and board for as long as I needed it, and lectures every
day. After a while I quit resenting it and started to really listen to what
…End of the part4. To be continued..

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be able to trust another woman as long as I live. If I could get along

without sex I’d never even look at another one. Now the only contact I have

with any of them is for sex, pure and simple. I’ve been doing the swinging

thing for a few months and I’ve learned I’m up for anything so long as it

makes me feel good and has no strings attached.

“You know the whole time we were married I never once cheated on that

bitch. Not that I didn’t have the chance either. I had lots of chances to

cop a little trim on the side and never once did. I even had a few guys

proposition me, like you did back when you were a kid. I can’t tell you how

many times I’ve looked back on that and other offers I had and have kicked

myself for not taking advantage of them.”

I’d been listening sympathetically as Eric unburdened himself, but that

last line nearly took my breath away. There was no doubt that I still found

him incredibly sexually attractive; I’d been jacking off for years

fantasizing about this hunky man. Now it seemed that he was making himself

available to me. Still we’d just become reacquainted and we had a lot

riding on our business relationship. I didn’t, couldn’t do anything that

would jeopardize that. I didn’t know what to do so I didn’t do much of

anything. I made some inane remarks about how hard it must be for him; how

I felt his pain; how he’d meet someone, some day who would make him change

his mind about romance; bullshit like that. We ate a great lunch and

talked business, but it was really hard to keep my mind off what was

between Eric’s muscular legs. We went back to the office with no further

reference to sex.

The remainder of the week was so busy for both of us that we barely had

time to do anything other than the routine. There was still much to discuss

and plan. For this reason on Friday afternoon I asked Eric if he’d be

willing to work on a long range plan with me on Saturday. He looked a

little disappointed, but said, “sure not a problem. What time do you want

to meet?”

“Are you sure it’s alright, you didn’t have other plans made, did you?”

“As a matter of fact I did, but it’s nothing I can’t put off. The meeting

is more important.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll meet you here say 10:00 tomorrow morning?”

“That’s fine. See you tomorrow.”

“Great.”

I couldn’t help but stare at his bubble butt as he left my office. That

night I spent a long, slow session stroking myself to an immense orgasm

just thinking of swallowing him whole. It was somehow very satisfying,

because now I felt that I had a chance to turn it into reality. I just

didn’t know how soon that would be.

The next morning I arrived at the office at 9:30. I was dressed casually

in a polo shirt and a pair of dockers. Eric arrived at just before 10:00,

carrying a couple of containers of Dunkin’ Doughnut coffee and wearing a

pair of baggy sweat pants and an old sweat shirt. The fabric of the sweat

pants was so soft and worn that you didn’t have to look hard or stare to

see that there was a fat cock swinging loose just behind the material. I

began to think that his purpose in life was to sexually torment me.

“So,” I asked, “were you able to rearrange your plans?”

“No. I was going to entertain a couple from Connecticut, and I was hoping

they’d come down later in the evening and spend the night so that we ccould

party after I finished here, but they have a wedding to attend back home

tomorrow afternoon, so we left it for some other time. I gave up at least a

couple of great blow jobs for this meeting. You owe me big time.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, though I thought of a couple of ways, but

I just kept my mouth shut and we got down to work. At about 2:00 it dawned

on us that we were hungry so we call out for pizza delivery. It was about

6:00 when we both decided we’d had enough and it was clear we’d made

significant progress. We worked well together.

Eric stood, giving a man sized stretch. When he did, his shirt rode up

exposing his hard, flat stomach and the flaxen down that surrounded his

navel and then trailed downward toward his prize. As my eyes gazed lower I

stared right at the head of his dick. When he stretched backward it had

pushed forward and was now right in front of my face clearly outlined

beneath the soft material of his sweats. The head alone was the size of a

hen’s egg. I guess my mouth dropped open and I was staring.

The next thing I heard was a chuckle followed by, “see something you like?”

“Yes,” I barely whispered, “and I see something I’ve wanted for almost 16

years. Can I have it?”

“Seems only right. I should have let you have it back 16 years ago, so I

guess I owe it to you. And for sure you owe me a fantastic blow job

because that’s what I missed out on this afternoon.”

“Then,” I said grinning, “I think we can work out a deal. Do you want to

do it here or would you like to come back to my place?”

“Tell you what. I’m super horny, it’s been awhile since I’ve been with

anyone. That’s why I was disappointed at missing out on the Connecticut

couple, they both have very talented mouths. I’m good to go for at least

two or three rounds. If you don’t mind I’d like it quick, down and dirty

here and now. Then once the edge is off we can go back to your place and

do it again slow and easy. You up for that?”

“I am if you are,” I said. Was I ever? Eric sat down in his chair again

and then swung it around toward where I was sitting at the end of the

table. He stretched out, spread his legs and then grabbed the top of his

sweats with his thumbs and pulled it down and hooked it under his large

ball sac. His cock was plumping out and rising right before my eyes. By

the time I got out of my chair, came around the side of the table and

kneeled between his legs it was standing steely hard, a full 6 1/2 inches

of the thickest manmeat I’d ever seen. I was easily as big around as it

was long. In the flesh it was even more beautiful than I’d ever imagined.

I’d waited so long for this. I felt as though I were dreaming. I took hold

of it in my hand feeling its velvety soft warmth. I gently pulled it

toward my face and flicked my tongue out to capture the small clear bead of

man honey that had just formed at the slit. I tasted him for the first time

and went wild. I dove down on that meaty hog and didn’t come up for air

until he was moaning like a bitch in heat. I was determined that he was

going to get the best blow job of his life; I was certain I was going to

give the best blow job of my life.

He couldn’t stand it. He was too hot to just kick back and enjoy it. He

grabbed the back of my head with his strong opened hands and pumping into

my mouth. He began slowly, but as we both became more comfortable and sure

of each other’s rhythms the speed pick up. It was as though he’d been

suddenly unchained. He stood up so that he could drive himself deeper,

never letting go of my head. We bonded, mouth to cock, a virtual fucking

machine. All I wanted was to drink from the essence of his being, to feel

him gushing his pent up juices into my mouth and down my throat. I felt

his balls tighten up, his breathing become more labored and his body

tense. Then it happened. His cock swelled and pulsed and he shot. There

was almost not enough room for both cock and cum, but I took gulp after

gulp. There was no way I was giving up a single drop.

When he’d regained his composure, breath and ability to speak he looked

down at me, my mouth still stuffed with his now softening piece. He was

grinning from ear to ear.

“Hot damn, bossman. That was the best head I’ve ever had, bar none. If

that’s what you can do on your knees with my britches still on I can’t wait

to be naked with you in a bed. I hope you liked it as much as I did, cause

if so it’s my guess neither one of us will ever bitch about working late

again.”

I slid his cock from my mouth, kissing the head as I did. I looked up at

him again and just smiled. But he was right. Naked and in bed made things

much more interesting…but that’s a whole other story.

a girl friend, but he came to me to blow him. Suddenly I realized that

woman were competitors when it came to pleasing men orally.

“Shit yes! She give great head, or at least she does when she’s not

pregnant. She hasn’t been able to do it in the past couple of months. You

know how women get when they’re expecting, they start throwing up for the

least little reason. But, other than that I get head whenever I want it

and that’s pretty often. There’s nothing I like better’n a good hum job.”

Within the space of a couple of seconds my hopes were dashed and then

renewed. His wife blew him; he loved getting sucked; and now his wife

couldn’t blow him. Never one to miss a window of opportunity I just came

out and asked.

“Would you like me to blow you since your wife can’t? I do a really good

job.”

He looked stunned and didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. I, of

course was hoping he was trying to figure out a place to go, but instead he

finally said, “listen kid, I’m not too much into the idea of having sex

with a guy. If that’s your thing, that’s cool with me, but I’m really not

too into it.”

I took this not to be a flat refusal. Not too into it, to me said that

maybe he could be a little into to it. So I said, just in case he wasn’t

clear on the point, “you don’t have to do anything to me, I’ll just suck

you ’til you come.”

“Yeah kid, I got the general idea, but like I said I’m not really cool with

the idea. Besides I don’t think your old man would be too happy with the

idea either and I really dig him. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would

make him unhappy.”

“Don’t worry I’d never mention it to dad. It could be our secret.”

I guess he was just trying to get me to end the conversation so he said,

“Well not today, but I’ll think about it.”

That did the trick. I dropped the subject and hoped for another day. That

night I jacked off three loads just thinking about Eric fucking my

face. Over the next few days I was relentless in my pursuit of him. I tried

to persuade him using every reason and argument I could think of, but it

didn’t seem as though I was getting any closer to getting what I wanted.

For his part, he was very nice to me. Though he always said no, he never

gave me a hard time, nor did he make me feel bad or inferior. Finally he

admitted that I was wearing him down. It seems like his wife had turned off

to sex almost totally and he was entering the perpetually horny zone. At

first I thought my lucky day had arrived, but he went on to explain his

point.

“A guy can only take so much temptation. I’m a hurtin’ unit in the sex

department and here you are asking me day in and day out if I want head. Of

course I do. Right now sex of any kind is starting to sound pretty good.

But I made a vow to my wife to be true to her and she made the same vow

back to me. I want her to keep her vows, no matter what happens, no matter

how horny she might get. I can’t break my vows to her and expect her to

keep hers. So if you really like me you’ll help me keep my vows. Please

don’t keep putting temptation in my path.

“I like you. I think you’re a cool kid, even if you like sucking dicks, but

I’m going to end up hating you if you are responsible for me doing

something I’ll always regret.”

What could I say? I promised to stop and I did. After that, though I

worked part time at the plant until I went away to college, I stayed out of

his way and said little more than hello when I ran into him at work. I

never propositioned him again.

After leaving for Boston University, I didn’t see him again, though I never

forgot him. In the ensuing 17 years I’ll bet I pumped out enough cum to

fill an Olympic sized swimming pool just thinking about sucking his cock.

Then about six months ago, my dad died. It was totally unexpected, a

massive coronary, out on the golf course. It was just the way he’d always

…End of the part2. To be continued..

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up against my wife’s open, wet pussy.

With a deep lunge he was inside her and fucking hard and fast. He kept

up a furious pace as I watched his cock disappear inside my wife to

the hilt and then withdraw only to be plunged back in as deep and hard

as ever.

By this time the big man at Corina’s head had removed his cock from

her gasping mouth and was watching his buddy bang away. His hand toyed

listlessly with his swollen member and wiped it back and forth across

my wife’s face smearing his precum over her eyes, nose and mouth.

I knew that the smaller guy would not be able to keep up the pace that

he had set for himself for long. I was right. With a final deep

thrust, he buried his twitching cock into my wife’s body and with

involuntary jerks of his hips, discharged the contents of his balls

deep inside her

But, as I saw the spent, small man roll away from my wife’s body, I

knew somehow that they were not finished with her.

“Sit her down on my cock!” the big man said as he sat back with his

tool sticking about eight inches up in front of him.

His companion was exhausted from the aggressive use that he had made

of Corina’s body, but he was still more than willing to help out his

buddy. With the wiry muscles bulging in his arms he picked up my

wife’s still quaking frame and bodily lowered her down onto his

friend’s lap.

White fluid was forced from her abused vagina as she was penetrated

for a second time and I heard her moan deeply in her throat as she

sank lower and lower onto the big pole until her chocolate coloured

buttocks nestled against his course pubic hair. Her heaving breasts

were again covered by meaty hands as she was raised and then allowed

to drop, sinking the long, turgid cock into her depths.

The strength must then have begun to return to her limbs because she

began to move on her own. Up and down, up and down she rose and fell

in time to her assailant’s gasps of joy. Her eyes closed and her head

lolled back as she worked the cock inside her in expert fashion. From

my sitting position I had the perfect view of her rounded bottom as

she wriggled and twisted her way towards a second climax.

“Damn! This bitch is one hot little fucker!” the big man moaned as he

pushed his face into her sweaty cleavage and began to nibble and bit

at her swollen nipples.

“Oh, fuck me, baby. Fuck me!” Corina replied through her lustful gasps

and sighs. “Do it to me…fill me….make me cummmmmmm!”

And so for the second time in the space of a half hour my wife

climaxed at the hands of another man. Mentally I berated myself. My

own cock was still hard and throbbing and I knew that this was not how

I should be feeling. Nonetheless, the only thing on my mind at that

time was seeing my wife enjoying the intimate, almost brutal,

attentions of another man.

As her trembling body writhed and twisted away, the big man lifted her

up while he was still inside her and turned around so that she was

lying on her back on the floor. His hands grasped her thighs and

roughly spread her wide as he continued to plough her vaginal passage

with his throbbing meat. Corina gasped as he rammed deeply into her

body and then suddenly stopped. I could see the contorted expression

on his face and knew that he was about to cum.

“C’mon, honey!” Corina encouraged him, let’s have all that thick cum.

I wanna see it now!”

The big guy suddenly groaned out loud and withdrew from my wife’s

sloppy pussy, his spasming cock twitched wildly in his fist as it

stood poised over her. Another gasp and the long tool belched the

first stream of cum onto her dark mound. The first burst was quickly

followed by a second and then a third as the flood gates seemed to

open. His hand worked quickly up and down his shaft as he emptied his

gunge on my wife’s body. Her fingers went to her dilated hole and I

sat astounded as she began to mop up the liquid and use it to coat her

fingers, masturbating herself quickly towards yet another quivering

orgasm.

Despite my pleading with her, in the months subsequent to this event,

Corina would hardly speak to me. She had been deeply upset by the

experience, but not directly because of what had happened. She had

revealed her true self to me and said she couldn’t live with a man

that knew that she was such a slut. I argued that surely it was I that

should make such a decision, but she was adamant. She left me soon

afterwards.

I’ve had two other wives since Corina and I eventually divorced and,

to be honest, I’ve always longed to see them with other men. My second

wife cheated on me many times but, no matter how hard I tried, I could

never actually get to see her.

And now I’m married to Julia. She’s a great wife and a huge flirt. I

know that she’s been seeing somebody – I followed her once to his

house – but as soon as she went in they pulled the drapes!

So all I’m left with now is the memory of the beautiful Corina – but

what a memory that is!

simultaneously perform fellatio on the receiver (assuming the

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

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

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

or prostate, as with the previous position.

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

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

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

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

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

position, since the receiver controls depth of penetration.

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

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

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

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

difference in comfort for the receiver, depending on which side

insertion occurs. Depth of penetration is medium.

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

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

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

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

the front and underneath just barely possible. Shallow penetration

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

but that this is even possible is rather remarkable.

——————————————————————-

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

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

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

settle for his own company for the foreseeable future.

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

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

an underwear model.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

of buns.

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

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

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

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

go out shopping without being surrounded by screaming fans holding out

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

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

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

overflowed with offers of marriage and indecent proposals in exquisite

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

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

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

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

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

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

a custom-made set of solar-powered dildoes.

——————————————————————-

THE BOOK OF ASSES

Part V

Preventive Maintenance

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

and consequently pleasure capacity of that wondrous organ.

A healthy and balanced diet promotes healthy bowel habits and

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

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

and other debilitating ailments. Consume generous portions of

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

be amply rewarded by regular and satisfying bowel movements.

Regular exercise, especially walking, bicycling, and swimming,

contributes to a healthy state of the digestive system and helps

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

exercises of the anal sphincter ring maintain the flexibility and

strength of that all-important gateway to ecstasy.

Cleanliness keeps the anus healthy. Clean thoroughly after each

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

irritation and maintain the suppleness and pleasing appearance of

that entry to the chamber of delights.

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

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

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

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

self and to a partner.

——————————————————————-

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

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

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

the publishing executive breathlessly explained that there was a

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

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

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

dotted line . . .

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

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

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

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

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

Then there was the added bonus of being able to reach around and with

a massaging hand make Warren’s hard dick twitch and spasm and spurt

. . . and see and feel Warren’s stretched-open asshole involuntarily

contract and clench around the dick deeply embedded within it. It seemed

that ass-fucking a man had its peculiar attractions.

The next time they met, Warren wanted to be on top. The thought had

already occurred to Val, but . . .

——————————————————————–

The one thing men fear most is being penetrated. Being fucked in the

ass. It implies loss of manhood, loss of control, degradation. It’s

the ultimate taboo. Yet, anything forbidden, especially *that*

forbidden has a powerful attraction.

——————————————————————–

. . . Yes, Val been more than a little bit curious about how it would feel

to take a dick into his own ass . . . to be the one fucked. He was getting

hot and horny just thinking about it. And Warren somehow knew that. He

gave Val a confident smile and began unbuttoning his shirt. It was a race

between the two of them to see who could get out of his clothes first.

It went surprisingly well. Warren was a patient and skilled lover and he

understood the value of lube.

The initial entry was a bit of a shock. Val felt himself *stretching*

down there, felt his hole enlarging, felt himself opening and being

pulled apart by the hard flesh pressing into his tunnel. He ached with

the sheer rapture of it and a long drawn-out sigh escaped his lips.

“Are you all right?” Warren asked.

“What you’re doing to me — it’s tearing me apart, but it feels so good

and I don’t know what’s happening . . . ”

“Just think of it as a transformative experience,” Warren suggested.

“Let your feminine side express itself.”

Looking at the full-length wardrobe mirror, Val watched two naked male

bodies on their hands and knees. It was bizarre seeing Warren’s bare ass

bouncing back and forth. The glimses of fleshy shaft sliding in and out

of his own ass brought on flashbacks of all the times he had been on

the giving end. It was perverted. Dirty. Unnatural. Thinking that made

him even hornier. His dick was hard.

The liquid friction of the dick pistoning in and out of him and the

sensation of fullness rippling up and down his gut felt . . . well,

good. No, better than good. Intensely good. Head-exploding good. His own

hard dick was throbbing in the rhythm of what was going on inside his

ass. Each time Warren bottomed out in him, Val sensed his guts vibrate

with a rumbling surge of power. After a few minutes of that, he felt

pressure building up within him and . . . and . . . Warren was holding

steady at maximum depth and reaching around to massage his dick with a

greased-up hand. Val pulsed and released his liquid between Warren’s

fingers, while his ass throbbed and clenched around Warren’s dick. He

gasped and strange geometric patterns flashed behind his eyeballs.

“So, you liked it?”

“It was okay,” Val managed to croak. He felt a pleasant ache in his rectum

as he used a hand towel to wipe up the wetness dribbling out of him. What

had happened to him, really? Had he lost an essential part of himself –

his manhood, or had he gained something? What had he become?

———————————————————————–

A quaint term for orgasm is “the little death.” The person experiencing

it allegedly dies, and is reborn changed in some essential way. So

it is with a man sodomized for the first time. He has overstepped a

barrier, and this has released an enormous charge of psychic power. For

better or worse, he has transformed into a new and different person.

———————————————————————–

“I do believe you’re a natural,” Warren was saying. ” A natural bottom.

…End of the part3. To be continued..

Sexy mom gobbles a hard young cock then gets her shaved pussy penetrated hard
Please comment of this gallery.

sufficiently warped that one had to lean on it in the last inches. She had

simply pushed it toward closed as she walked in. I knew that she would

see the door ajar by inches if she were to sit on the toilet. I waited for her

to come back and push it the remainder of the way, but she didn’t. Instead,

she continued to talk to me as if the door just cracked open was a

convenience and not an embarrassment.

For all our openness, she’d not been this relaxed with me at home.

I strained to hear her intimate sounds. I needn’t have, for when she began

to pee, it was remarkably loud. I could hear her initial tinkle followed by

the characteristic hissing sound of female urination, pee splashing against

the porcelain, ending with the less forceful last squirts dribbling into the

water. I was enthralled with the sounds, for it called to my mind vivid

mental imagery.

As she pulled toilet tissue from the roll, I was suddenly aware that

she’d been talking the entire time and I’d not heard a word. Oh, Lord, I

hope she hadn’t asked me a question.

My heart sank when she said, “Will you?” in a tone that indicated

that this was the second time she’d asked it.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I missed that. Would you say it again, please?”

She laughed and flushed the toilet and as she came out of the

bathroom belting her robe, she smiled and said, “I asked if you had any of

that promised chilled Champaign, and if so, could I have some?”

We spent the next few hours catching up, first one then the other

talking, sipping inexpensive Champaign and once again, sinking into the

easy familiarity we’d discovered. I shared with her the intense

competitiveness I’d experienced in school, the long hours I’d been putting

in, trying desperately to maintain the pace and the feeling of isolation in a

crowd. “Christ, Mom, I haven’t even kissed a girl in months!”

“Poor Uncle Wiggly,” she said. The origin of that expression was

lost to me, but I knew it to be a tongue-in-cheek sympathy.

“Yeah, poor me,” I agreed, smiling. She’d never let me sit on the

pity pot long.

Looking at my watch, I whistled and said, “Even if we rush, we’re

going to be more than fashionably late. You want the shower first or shall

I?”

“You go first. You know how I like to fuss. I’ve got some

primping to do if I’m going to impress your friends.”

“You spend more time doing less making up than anyone I know,”

I complained, not for the first time.

She laughed and reasoned, “You’ll like the result. Now, get

going!”

An hour later, near-record time for her, we were off to the dance,

having given up on the notion of dinner entirely. Our entrance might have

been choreographed, for there was an apparent brief lull in the music as we

entered and people were mostly standing around the edges of the floor, I

thought, just to watch us come in.

My chest was puffed up with pride and self importance, having this

knock-out woman on my arm. She was wearing a dark green, partially

iridescent dress with a flowing, full skirt and a tight bodice, cut shockingly

low. The full upper portions of her breasts were visible and they seemed to

sway and bounce with her step. I kept reminding myself not to stare.

Sometimes it even worked.

“I must look good,” Mother said, “you’ve been staring at me all

night. Thanks.” Suddenly changing the subject, she asked, “Have you

smelled my new perfume?”

I shook my head and leaned toward her neck, as if to smell the

scent behind her ear but she surprised me by pulling the bodice of her dress

away from her breasts and leaning toward me. Suddenly I had an almost

…End of the part9. To be continued..

that sounds odd, that a mother and her son would become more relaxed

with each other, but that’s exactly what happened. I think that there has

always been some male-female sexual tension in our culture, mostly buried

and not honored, but certainly operative. And as with many things, we

aren’t aware of them until they go away. It’s their absence that highlights

their former presence. In that fashion, I was very aware that many of our

defenses had been lowered.

——————————————————————–

Some months later when I’d been away at school for what seemed

like too long a time, I called my mother just to chat. We never said

anything blatant, but there always seemed to be a kidding undertone to our

conversations, subtly skirting around sexual things. One day she upped the

ante. “So, getting any?” she asked.

I was stunned. Was she reading my mind?

“No, dammit. You?” I was taking a chance here and I knew it. I’d

been distantly aware that in the last little while, even when my father was

home, that they were not connecting, my mom and dad. You can’t be that

close to someone and not be aware of those charged emotional states, even

when they’re never discussed. Mom, I knew, was frustrated, but we didn’t

talk about it. As I said, she never complained.

“No,” she answered, and then quickly added, “but we’re not talking

about me. What’s happening with *you* these days?”

I was used to her fending me off in this fashion and hardly paid it

any attention. The fact of my emotional state was that I was lonely. I

missed my mom. And oh, yes . . . I was horny. I decided to act out on a

new fantasy. I asked her for a date, a mother-son date.

“Mom, I miss you and knowing I won’t get back home for a couple

of months, it makes it worse. So I was wondering, would you come up

and visit me? We’re having a little dance here and I don’t know anyone.

You wouldn’t have to stay in a hotel or anything. I’ve got a pull-out

couch; I’ll use that and you could use my room. Will you let me take you

to dinner and then the dance?”

She made I’m-thinking-about-it noises and then said, “Well . . . I’m

not sure about the dancing part. I’ve danced with you – or tried to – before

and it’s something about two left feet . . .” and then she laughed.

“Mom! Come on, will you? I’m not that bad,” knowing that I

really was that bad.

“Alright, alright. I miss you too and I’m a little lonely myself. I

miss our talks. It’s be nice to have dinner and re-connect with you.

When’s the dance?”

“Two weeks . . . the weekend after next. Can make it?”

“Sure. Will you pick me up at the airport? I dread tying to get a

bus or a taxi.”

We made the arrangements and just before hanging up, I blurted

out, “Mom, I love you and I can’t wait to see you. Gosh, a real date!”

——————————————————————–

In retrospect, I can see that I’d been sexually attracted to my

mother for a long time, but initially too inhibited to admit it to myself.

With the pealing of that layer of my denial, I came to accept the intense

sexual feelings I had for her, but continued to deny that I expected or even

wanted to seduce her.

Another uncomfortable foray into self honesty brought me to that

point where I knew I *wanted* to be sexually intimate with her, but

realistically, didn’t imagine I ever could. After years of viewing her on

…End of the part6. To be continued..

expected anything, but what I saw so well that afternoon was to be

imprinted on my mind with an indelible permanence.

“Damn, my feet are tired,” she complained to the heavens. And

then, stating the obvious, “Professor Twist is so incredibly boring,”

followed by a mental right turn, “I need some excitement in my life.”

Excitement? I glanced up at her face, but she looked unchanged,

head back and eyes still closed, the picture of fatigue, or was it boredom?

Looking again at her long legs encased in shear nylons leading up to that

pantied juncture in her crotch, I suddenly had a near-overwhelming desire

to see more, to get closer. Some desires, short of compulsions, can be

modulated if for no other reason than a fear of disclosure. The strength of

this desire was not to be moderated by caution or restraint. I *had* to see

more.

Understand, I wasn’t a complete nincompoop, but as a seventeen

year old, I didn’t know much. Most of my sexual adventures came as the

result of me just being there and things happening. I suppose I was more

of an opportunist than a mover and shaker, at least in sexual things. Later,

that was to change. Anyway, I knew I wanted to get closer and hadn’t the

faintest notion how I might accomplish this . . . and keep my head on my

shoulders.

I had an idea! Hardly original and certainly not a bit creative, but it

was what came to mind at that moment and without turning it over to

examine its merits, I blurted out, “Want me to rub your feet? I know it’s

not very exciting, but you used to love it.”

Now this was not entirely without precedent, for I’d once taken a

low-grade massage course that had started with the feet and then the

hands. Most of the people in there were taking the course hoping to learn

about erotic massage. That never happened and it was not until eight or so

weeks later that we even got to the back! At any rate, I’d massaged my

mom’s hands and her forearms and feet and calves in the past. At that time

I was doing it for the practice and hardly noted that it was my mother’s

limbs on which I was working. Now, months later, she just sank deeper

into the couch and wiggled her toes, saying, “Oh, yes! Yes, indeed, yes.

Oh, thank you. Marvelous idea!”

As I was walking around the coffee table, I remembered reading an

erotic story of a young kid who massaged his mom’s legs so he could look

under her robe. Each day his mother relaxed a little bit more, the story

went, and each day he’d get a little better view. More, he was able to

move up her legs each day. “How dumb!” I thought at the time. I liked

the story, but knew it’d never work. Now, it seemed like a much better

idea.

Then, with the keen awareness of the paranoid, I thought, “If *I*

thought of this, then my mother probably did as well. She probably know

what I’m up to.” Yet her relaxed body surrender suggested otherwise as I

sat on the coffee table and said, “Gimmie a footsie, lady.”

“Footsie?” she asked, as she picked up one leg and offered it to me,

opening up the view of her entire pantied pelvis and crotch. “Since when

did you get so cute?”

“You want this massage or not?” As if I’d be content to just walk

away if she decided she really didn’t want it.

“You can call it anything you want. Just rub it for me, please.”

In retrospect, I don’t know if one might have viewed this as some

right of passage. Almost certainly not, yet it had a profound impact on me

that colored my thinking and my thoughts, seemingly to this day. I mean,

why else can I recall with such vivid clarity the texture of her skin and the

color of her clothes? Why else did this produce a deeply etched memory

that was swamped with eroticism?

Because I’d sat next to her feet on the coffee table, when she

offered me her foot, I’d pulled it slightly aside to hold it in both hands.

This caused her dress to climb still higher on her thighs and open her legs

still more. Her panties were a burnished saffron in the long light. I was so

…End of the part2. To be continued..

“Changing your clothes . . . were you flashing me?”

“Of course. I wanted to give you a thrill. But what I found out

was that *I* was the one who was getting the thrill. It got me wet,

showing myself to you. Several times – you may remember this – when I

left you to go into my bathroom, I had to masturbate. And that gave me a

thrill. Sitting on the toilet, fingers on my sex, knowing you were right out

there. I wanted you to know and at the same time, I was terrified that you

would know. Funny, huh?”

Another glance over her shoulder. “A little harder, please?”

I increased the intensity of this erotic spanking. Her cheeks were

getting pink and she was getting wetter. I could see the sheen of her juices

on my cock as I pulled it from her tight, wet sheath.

“Did you ever think about “doing it” when you were playing with

yourself, Susan?”

“With you?”

A harder slap. “Yes, with me!”

“I was really embarrassed then, even with myself, but yes, of course

I thought about it. I tried to think of other things when I was

masturbating. I tried to hold off thoughts of you, but so often – sometimes

stuck and unable to get off – thoughts, visions of you would pop into my

head and whoosh! I’d get off. After a while, I gave up and just used you

all the time. I’d day dream about you and get wet when you’d see me

dressing.”

Nodding in recall, I said, “I’d get so hard, it’d hurt. I was always

afraid you’d see me and be insulted. But it was so thrilling, I couldn’t stop.

Did you know that?”

That it was thrilling or that you got hard? I certainly knew about

your stiffies. And I knew it had to be about me. One part of me was

shocked I guess, but the stronger, the sexual part I mean, was excited. I

tried not to look, but I did. I just couldn’t help myself.”

I was brought to a halt by the intensity of my emotions. “I

*thought* you knew and averted your eyes because you disapproved.”

Laughing, I added, “I’ll never hide it again.”

Wiggling her ass, she asked, “Why’d you quit spanking me, Billy.

It was just starting to feel good. And by the way, how’d you know I

*liked* to be spanked, anyway. You seem to know a lot for a young guy!”

“I read a book once,” I quipped, as if that explained everything. I

resumed the spanking, alternating one cheek and then the other.

Arching her back, she rested her head on her forearms again and

observed, “I’ve quit trying to figure it out. I mean, I’m a feminist and a

strong woman, but I *love* to be spanked. I think it’s a sexual thing, you

know, a pleasure thing and it has nothing to do with feminism. A little

harder, if you please?”

Turning up the intensity current a notch, I slowly moved to the

bottom of her buttocks, to the crease where the cheek meets the thigh.

With only the fingers, I slapped the tender area closer to her vulva.

“Oh, YES!”

Then I moved inward, right next to the fur-trimmed swollen lips of

her cunt and continued the erotic slapping, asking, “And here?”

“Yes . . . no. I mean, spank me right on my pussy, Billy. I’ll come

for you . . . it’s getting closer . . . yes, right there . . . oh, yes, yes, yes . . .

shit, shit . . .,” and her words again degenerated into a crescendo of

pleasure as she thrust her hips further back at me. I slipped my thumb into

her cunt, pressing the soft tissue right behind her pubic bone. Thrashing

her head and beating her small fists into the pillow, she shuddered, once,

and then again, then falling into a heap, sobbing.

I held her close in my arms, patting her head and murmuring soft

sounds of loving. “It’s OK, Mom, it’s really OK. I’m here. You’re all

right.”

She nodded her head, sobbed again and with her voice catching in

her throat, said something like, “I’m OK, Billy. There’s nothing wrong

except I can’t remember when I’ve felt like this. It’s never happened just

like this before. I’ve never felt so . . . so much. It’s almost scary. But I’m

certain about one thing,” and then she stopped.

“What’s that, Susan?

“That I love you, Billy. I don’t know if we’ve done the right thing

or not, but I know that I love you. And I know that there’s no going back.

I’m not sure what to do next, but I want you to know that this was one of

the more beautiful moments of my life. I want you to know that I have no

regrets about this, about us . . . that I love you very much.

That was the beginning of a new chapter in our lives, my mother

and me. She and my father never divorced and while they continued to

have differences, at times major differences, they both were willing to show

up for their marriage and work at maintaining the good parts.

We remained the very best of friends and very occasional lovers.

Oh, we always fooled around, teasing each other, but permitted ourselves

moments like this one only at rare moments. I suppose we were rationing

ourselves, or more correctly, she was rationing me.

This little story is not meant as a case for incest. While clearly it

might work from time to rare time, for the most part, it’s too dangerous

and too wrapped in dysfunction. It’s just that this time, it did work. For

us. My life was fuller and better for it. I look back only with fondness and

pleasure and at times, wonder.

blind. Yes, I could tell. It’s tough isn’t it, trying to be subtle and look at

my tits at the same time!”

All pretense had vanished. Any thought I might have had for a

negotiated seduction was out the window. This wasn’t going as I’d

planned and it was wonderful. I couldn’t believe what was happening. My

beautiful mother was sitting on my lap with her breast exposed, the nipple

shining with the wetness of my saliva, groaning as she ground her bottom

into me.

“God, Mom,” I rasped, “I love you so much. I can’t tell you.”

“Yes, yes . . . I know Billy. Just love me. Hold me tight. Kiss

me.”

I couldn’t keep my hands off her body. She’d been squirming

around so much that her dress had ridden up on her thighs, exposing a

good expanse of leg. Holding her skirt-covered buttock with my left hand,

I ran my right hand up and down her body, then down to her left knee and

up under the hem of the dress to the top of her thigh, above her hose. She

scrunched down farther, helping me to lift the dress. Suddenly she was

bared to her pelvis.

“Jesus, Mom! You have such beautiful legs.”

Her only reply was to kiss me again and open her legs. I flashed

back to the afternoon I was looking up her dress. Now, however, I wasn’t

peeping. She was showing herself to me. It was clear that I couldn’t be

content just looking. Still I hesitated. Could I *touch* her there? Could I

cusp her mound in my hand? Actually feel her pussy? What the hell! In

for a penny . . .

I ran my hand up and down the soft inside of her thigh, moving

closer each time to her panties. She moaned and pushed her pelvis at me.

The side of my hand pushed against the cushy bulge of her panty crotch.

She grunted and lurched, snapping her legs shut, trapping my hand. I tried

to pull my hand out but she suddenly reached down and with surprising

strength, grabbed my wrist, I thought to pull me away from her pussy.

Instead, she opened her legs a little and pulled my hand into her crotch

even tighter, sawing me up and down against her cunt, moaning constantly.

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Shit. Shit, Shit. Yes. There! Do it!”

I scrabbled my fingers, trying to get in under a pant leg edge. She

let go of my hand, lifting her hips as if to help me. I gave up and grabbed

the lacy crotch of her panties and pulled downward. Again, she heaved up,

and with her free hand, helped me pull them down, first to her low thighs

and then in a tangle of limbs, off, muttering the whole time, “Get ‘em off,

get ‘em off.”

What happened to my sedate and dignified mother? Where’d she

go and where did this lusty woman come from?

Freed of her feet, I pulled her silky panties to my nose, inhaling the

essence of her as she was groping in my lap, fruitlessly trying to pull down

my fly zipper.

“Christ! And I thought *guys* had a hard time with girls’ bras!”

she complained. “Help me, dammit.”

“Jesus, I can’t open my pants much less pull them down if you’re

sitting on me, can I?”

She laughed and said, “This isn’t going smoothly at this moment, is

it?”

Heaving her off my lap, dumping her on the couch, I replied, “No,

but it’s sure as hell is GOING . . . and right now!”

I shucked my trousers and briefs, my hard cock sticking up

obscenely. Mother’s dress and bra quickly joined the frantic pile of

clothing on the floor. Suddenly, we were both nude, or nearly so. I was

stunned at this out-of-control passion that had overwhelmed us.

A very small, detached part of my mind was observing the blind

…End of the part13. To be continued..

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Bill. I’d like that.”

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

the-cheek kiss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hardened tip of her tongue deep into my mouth.

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

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

her pubic bone into me.

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

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

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

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

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

under my chin, her cleavage right under my nose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

few seconds. I want another kiss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thumbing her erect nipple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

We were both moaning and voicing largely incoherent sounds. She

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could tell?”

…End of the part12. To be continued..

I woke up late the next morning to the delicious feeling of
my cock in Jenny’s hot, wet, magic mouth. I loved feeling it
grow rigid as she slurped and sucked and licked it. I relaxed
back into the pillows and enjoyed her expert cocksucking. In
just a few minutes, Jenny was fucking me with her mouth, and I
couldn’t hold out any longer. My cum shot out of me and into her
accepting mouth.
When I was done, Jenny looked up and smiled, “Good morning,
Lover. I just want you to know that I have never felt sexier,
hotter, more like a complete woman, than I have since your
birthday.”
I smiled back at her. With my fingers I dabbed some of my
cum from her chin and she sucked my sticky fingers into her
mouth.
“So, it looks like a foreign cock every now and then is all
we need to keep you happy.”
“Ron, it’s so sexy knowing you’re watching. Last night, I
kept thinking about you being five feet away, watching everything
I was doing. It turned me on so much!”
……
And it must have. Our sex life was wonderful. Between the
different hours that we worked, and my longer commute time, Jenny
usually arrived home a little after 4 p.m. and I dragged in after
6:30. Instead of Jenny starting dinner and watching the news
until I got home, we developed a pattern of love-making I really
enjoyed.
When I got home, Jenny was almost always naked or
almost-naked in bed and ready for me. She insisted that I eat
her already-wet cunt, first, and then she would attack my body
with her hands, tongue, mouth and cunt, ending in a terrific
fuck. We’d then shower together and enjoy the rest of the
evening together.
……
One day in late March, my office went out to lunch to
celebrate a huge sale I had made in the morning. None of us
returned to work, and, as a result, I turned onto our street at
about 4:15 p.m. — just in time to see three figures enter our
front door.
I stopped the car still a half-block from the house, and
wondered what to do. One of the figures had obviously been Jenny
— her car stood in the driveway. Who were the other two people,
and why were they waiting at the front door for Jenny to get
home?
As I sat there, our bedroom light went on, and a thought
began to form.
I parked the car at the curb, walked down to our house and
into the backyard. I quietly climbed the steps up to the deck
off the kitchen, and climbed from that railing onto the deck off
the bedroom. I crept over to the french doors, but couldn’t find
enough opening in the curtains to observe anything inside the
room.
Desperate, I climbed up on the railing and peeked into the
top of a window. Perfect! The miniblinds were open enough to
see a sight I couldn’t believe!
Inside, Jenny, Danny and Danny’s friend, CJ were undressing!
When they were all naked, Jenny laid back onto the bed and
Danny moved his hard cock close to her lips. My wife moved her
head until she could suck it into her mouth. At the same time,
CJ was kneeling between Jenny’s spread legs. His hands were busy
at her cunt for a few seconds, and then he moved his cock up to
her pussy. He slid it in it’s whole length in one quick shove.
Jenny let go of Danny’s prick and began to really hump CJ,
lifting her hips to take each of his thrusts. Danny moved down
on the bed and took Jenny’s right nipple into his mouth.
I couldn’t believe this! This was my wife who said she did
it only for me, fucking and sucking the neighborhood schoolboys!
I also couldn’t believe it, but she never looked sexier!
CJ soon came and quickly rolled from between my wife’s
spread thighs. Danny rolled over and pulled on her hips until
she was kneeling on all fours in front of that big cock of his.
Danny was not gentle as he shoved his cock in to the hilt and
started to bang away at Jenny. CJ moved his head under her
swinging tits and grabbed one with his hand and the other with
his mouth.
Through the windows I couldn’t hear a thing, but I could see
how much Jenny was enjoying being an easy piece of ass for these
two young studs. She had her first orgasm as Danny was pounding
his meat into her, and he came soon after that.
They all rolled apart, and I expected them to start getting
dressed, but, instead, Jenny took Danny’s shiny, wet cock into
her mouth and began sucking it.
Both kids had erections within minutes, and this time, Jenny
straddled CJ’s hips and rode his cock to a hard, fast cum for
both of them. She played with Danny’s prick with her hand, until
CJ shot his load, and then my wife-whore rolled over on her back
and spread her legs, yet again.
She fingered herself and said something, and they all
laughed. Bill was right. She was a slut! They were still
laughing as Danny slid his pole up her very pink cunt.
This was the fucking Jenny really got into. She wrapped her
arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. From where I
was, I could watch Danny’s cock rise out of her cunt, almost its
full length, and slide back in to the hilt, his big bag of balls
slapping against Jenny’s ass. I knew then that Jenny had taught
him how to fuck. He was giving her exactly what she wanted –
her eyes shut tight, her mouth open — she was enjoying the
fucking tremendously.
She began to cum, and it lasted for minutes, until her arms
and legs fell slack and she was still on the bed. Danny didn’t
miss a beat, continuing to pump away at her cunt until he, too,
finally came.
……
They rested a few minutes and then dressed. I carefully
climbed down from my perch and made my way back to my car. I sat
in it until my normal arrival time and pulled into the driveway.
As usual, Jenny was naked in our freshly made bed, fingering
herself as I walked into the bedroom.
I was incredibly angry with her for cheating on me, but I
had never been more aroused in my life then when I was staring
through the window at my slut-whore-wife put out to the
neighborhood.
I stripped in seconds and jumped on top of Jenny, pushing my
erect cock at her pussy lips.
She smiled at me, “No, Dear. I want you to eat me, first.”
In anger and sexual frenzy, I held her hands to the bed and
pushed my cock up inside her with all my strength. I looked down
at my sweet-faced wife and said, “I told you, I don’t eat other
men’s cum, you cheap little slut!”
She tensed her body for just a second, and then smiled,
again, “That’s what you think. You’ve been eating it out of my
pussy every day for months!”
That second, I shot the juice of the best cum of my life
into her well-used and cum-filled cunt.
……
Later, Jenny told me that when Danny came back the Monday
after my birthday, she did tell him what she told me. Except,
she said he looked so crushed and broken she offered him “one
last time.” By the third fuck in an hour, Jenny admitted she was
really enjoying Danny’s attention and youth and stamina, and, of
course, his big cock.
That day was the first instead of the last. Almost every
workday afternoon, Danny stopped by the house and thoroughly
fucked my very willing wife.
She explained that over Christmas break, CJ’s parents went
out of town and he was staying with Danny. They were best
friends and Danny had already told CJ about Jenny (against
Jenny’s wishes), and CJ sat in the livingroom while Danny and
Jenny got their rocks off upstairs. On the third day of this,
Jenny felt sorry for CJ and his raging teenage hormones and told
Danny to send CJ up when he was dressed. Only two days later, it
was a threesome, and has been a threesome since.
Jenny said she thought the whole thing was more than I
wanted to handle, especially everyday, a teenager or two, and a
neighbor, so she kept the whole affair a secret from me. When I
wouldn’t eat her pussy after Bill fucked her, she said it was an
incredible turn-on to have me eat her out almost every day, after
her two young studs had filled her pussy up with their gooey cum.
She always cleaned away any excess drips on the outside of her
pussy, so it wouldn’t be obvious. I told her I honestly didn’t
know, and thought she tasted great. To me, she just tasted like
sex.
……
So, in the end, I got what I thought I wanted, but more than
I expected. I knew I’d enjoy watching another man fuck my lovely
wife, but I had never expected my wife to enjoy other men fucking
her so much!
Are we happy?
Jenny certainly is, and I still like to watch — but she is
certainly fucking a whole lot more than I’m watching. Just
yesterday, she even mentioned that CJ’s older twin brothers will
be home from college for the summer — and she had a real sparkle
in her eyes when she said it!

tips and gently pulled, bringing warm flashes of need that washed

over Jessie in waves. Breathing now in small gasps she rolled on

her side and gently pushed Hal onto his back.

What was fair for the swan was fair for the lady of the

lake.

Jessie planted kisses on Hal’s cheeks and mouth and gently

nibbled his ear. Her tongue flicked in and out and round, until

Hal too began to breathe in irregular gasps. Her right hand

worked down Hal’s shirt buttons until the top lay open at the fur

of his chest. Jessie ran the tips of her fingers though the

black and grey hair curling across his chest, stroking his skin

with desire. Shifting her weight to the side, she pulled his

shirt to the side, effectively pinning his arms still entrapped

in it. Desire driving her, Jessie moved her tongue over his

breasts, circling, tickling, sucking while Hal lost himself

wanting to play out the age old game of love and merging.

Jessie’s hand strayed to the straining bulge in his jeans and she

stroked the surface of his thighs with ever gentle, passes that

brought forth his breath in deep, pleasured moans.

Now it was his turn again. Hal struggled to return from the

waves of pleasure in which he floated. He finally raised himself

on one elbow and removed his prison of a shirt. Hal reached for

the zipper on Jessie’s jeans and slowly inched it down, his

fingers seeking to dip themselves in her soft petals of skin.

His probing palms found the triangle of golden fur that arched

skyward to meet him and he slid his hand along her glistening

thighs searching for panties. There were none to find and it

excited him to find her so ready and unencumbered.

Jessie’s right hand was no quieter than his. She worked the

snap of Hal’s jeans open and slid her hand inside over his under-

pants and caressed his shaft. It was full and firm and strained

upward at each pass she made from the tip to the base and back

again. She worked Hal’s zipper open and teased his firm member

into the softness of her palm. It was velvet soft on the outside

but unable to disguise the raging energy it contained. His shaft

wanted only to be as close to her, to burrow itself deep within

her magic. Its tip moistened in overwhelming expectation of

heaven to come.

Jessie and Hal were both breathing hard now. But they still

had entirely too many clothes on. It took them no time at all to

realize this fact and seek to remedy the situation to fulfill

their desire. Hal was the first to call a truce. He eased

Jessie’s jeans off, his hand stroking her thighs with a caress

with the softness of the wind, but the urgency of manhood.

Reciprocating, Jessie slowly slid both his pants down until he

stepped out of them.

He stood before her like a graying, handsome god of lust.

She knelt and took his shaft into her mouth and teased it round

the head and underneath with her tongue. Each pass brought Hal

closer to his knees. His back was arched and he fought the

desire to end this ballet in a flood of saltiness.

Jessie moved up his pubic area with her tongue…up the

chest…up to the neck and then to his lips again. They embraced

in a kiss that lost them both to time. Hal moved to enter her,

thrusting, like a sword seeking its rightful sheath and when he

found his home, they both cried out in pleasure.

Now a deep thrust, now a shallow one. They clung in each

others arms, swaying like great willows caught up in the dance of

life and the wind. The deeper Hal thrust, the deeper Jessie

tried to take him. She wanted him in the center of her being but

she could not keep her balance, her knees were so weak that they

had to hold each other up to keep from falling. Her body urged

Hal to follow it gently down without slipping from its hold, to

lie upon her on the sweet earth together.

Now their rhythms lost them to all reason. She moaned and

cried out and struggled sideways in an effort to bring Hal close

enough within her. He lost himself in passion until the urgency

of both of them brought the crescendo of centering. Hal came in

a flood of warmth and a cry to the gods of perfection. Jessie

joined him as his salty flood spread inside her loins that

brought her own loss of space and time. She was in a time and

place where nothing mattered but holding this man as close as she

could for eternity itself. They lay relaxed, merged with one

another while time itself passed away.

Tears began to stream down Jessie’s cheeks. They were tears

of pure joy, tears of pure happiness and she held Hal gently and

let them flow with her passion. Hal reached up and brushed them

gently away with his finger tips. He kissed their saltiness and

whispered gently into her ear, “I love you,” while he tried not

to cry himself. There was no way to express in words what he

felt about what they had shared with each other. Language lost

its power to express when compared with this sharing.

For the longest time they laid there, wrapped in eternity,

love taking them on a journey to the ultimate high meadow.

—

Her body was stirring now and it felt drawn to this

stranger’s strength, in a way that few men called her. Moistness

began to spread itself on her thighs. It made her acutely aware

of just how fascinating he really was.

The man readied to shave. Cold water in a small pan, razor

and shaving cream laid out on the table. He hung a small mirror

from his kit on the side pole of the tent.

Jessie was mesmerized.

He began with long strokes on the sides of his face. Each

was perfectly executed. They were strokes of a master painter

working on a canvas. Each pass of the blade was strong, and each

had their own symmetry as uniquely apropos as the verbal passages

of Shakespeare.

He finished, wiped his face with a towel and raised his head

to catch Jessie still intent upon his face.

“I have never had such an attentive audience before,” he

laughed, “nor such a pretty one,” and he surveyed her face. “Are

you making sure I have done the job properly?” he offered with a

twinkle to his voice.

Jessie gently laughed out loud. “And what would you do if I

tested your handiwork with a kiss?” she countered.

Hal was tempted to say, “I’m old enough to be your father,

sweet lady,” but he was both intrigued and attracted by her youth

and her sublime grace. Instead he said, “Be my guest beautiful

lady.” It surprised him even as the words left his mouth.

Jessie rose from the bench where she had been surveying the

proceedings and walked over to Hal’s campsite. Smiling, she took

a finger and traced a path across his upper lip. Then she

stroked the side of his face softly with the back of her hand.

It was as smooth as a satin shirt. Flawless. He smelled of lime

and soap and maleness. It was as heady a perfume as the pine

trees, and she wondered what it would be like to love a man like

that and have his scent on her pillow to drink in, every morning,

along with his body. She gently kissed his cheek.

Hal cleared his throat. “I suppose this means that I ought to

introduce myself, as I’m not in the habit of having people I’m

not acquainted with pass judgment on my handiwork. Especially

when I have not had my coffee nor caught their name,” he teased,

“If you find me suitably proficient, you may call me Hal.”

Jessie barely suppressed the urge she was feeling to bring

her body close to his, and run her fingers through the grey at

his temples. She said, “My friends call me Jessie. I wouldn’t

know what is usual in this sort of situation, but my compliments

to the artiste for his deft touch.” She smiled and quipped, “It

passes muster in my book, Michelangelo,” and she touched Hal’s

cheek again with her lips, very softly, lingering just a bit at

the last.

Jessie had the feeling that Hal was about to draw her deeply

to him and engulf her with his arms and soul, but his reserve

held fast and the moment passed. She turned and went to her camp

spot, returning in a moment with the thermos and a spare cup. “I

understand that you also start your day with an infusion of dark

caffeine. Would you care to share some of mine?”

Hal extended an arm for the cup and Jessie poured the hot

brown liquid till it reached the rim. His eyes teased her over

the top of the coffee and he said, “My thanks to the chef. I

never was able to wait very well while I brewed up my first batch

of the day. You seem to be a very handy camper to have nearby.”

Jessie raised her eyes to his and said, “You’d be surprised

as just how handy I am and all the things this camper knows how

to do. Or just maybe…you wouldn’t,” and she flashed the big-

gest, brightest look that was such a mixture of gentle, friendly,

wickedness and pure exuberance, that Hal was momentarily caught

off guard. He lost himself happily in enjoying it, until his

sanity returned.

“You ought to be spanked, young lady,” he retorted, “And I

might be tempted to do it myself if you don’t get dressed and

stop endangering an old man’s heart like that,” he threatened

semi-seriously.

Jessie shot back a gleeful smile and countered, “Looks to me

as if your heart is strong enough to take it,” and she headed

back to her site in a hasty but reluctant retreat, before she

could get her rear end swatted.

She called over her shoulder as she passed, “You wouldn’t

…End of the part2. To be continued..

— | I was fucked by GUMBY.
____/ | – _ |
/ | | | | | It was years after the TV series was set that
| (0) (0) | | / | this disgusting thing occured, Gumby had grown
| o | | | | up as had the boy owner of the books that Gumby,
___| -___- |_| | | Goo, Prickle and Pokey called home. That boy
/ | | owner was now thirteen and Gumby was about 17 or
| _ ___/ | 18.
| | | | | Anyhow, being a thirteen year old boy, he had
| | | | | porno magazines, which, like the other books in
| \|_ | | the room, could come alive and be interacted with
\ _| 6 | | by Gumby.
\__| | | Gumby, being stuck in a children’s book, didn’t
| /| |\ | | get much action so he was fairly desperate. He
| |_| |_| | | had given Prickle a poke and Pokey some of his
| |_| | | prick and he had also filled Goo with -er- goo,
| \_/ | | but he wanted some real stuff- with a human.
| | | | So, strolling around the room one day he
| | | | stumbled across the place where the boy hid his
| : | : | | pornos and he didn’t waste anytime entering that
| :… | :… | | text.
|______|______| | I was one of the guys in there making sure the
| girls got their fill.
—————————+ Gumby’s groin bulged forward and his plasticine
penis became hard. Now, it was that all the orifices of the females were
already occupied by someone so Gumby had to choose something else to get into.
This didn’t worry him, though, he had only ever grown up with males: Prickle,
Pokey and the blockheads were all males and Goo- well- Goo was a lump of Play-
Doh.
He looked around to find a male’s orifice that was within reach and
accessable, apparently he chose me.
I was too busy to notice him at first because, being a plasticine dick, he
had made it really thin and just slipped it in. It didn’t take me long to
realise something was amiss, though, for, once he had it in me, he let it
expand.
I’m not going to deny anything here- It felt good.
When he had gotten to what felt like normal size (its hard to judge when you
cannot make a comparison) he sighed and asked “Can I go deeper?” Having never
been aroused like this before (fucking for a living takes the fun out of sex)
I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
I felt his plasticine manhood moving into me, through my anus, up my rectum,
into my intestines. My arse was crushing his dick and oh it felt good!
It took him a long time to get through both my intestines and he stopped at
my duodenum. Then he stayed there awhile, sending ripples of plasticine up and
down his penis. Hmmmmmm.
Then, suddenly, he began to withdraw, slowly at first then faster, and if you
have ever done this kinda stuff you’ll know that this feels *great.*
I had three orgasms, and boy did I scream with pleasure! I must have because
the boy owner heard me and picked up the porno. He stared down at us a while
then ripped his pants down and started thrashing himself.
It was amazing! I had a guy (a Gumby) pulling his thirty foot dick out my
arse and I was watching a thirteen year old giant jerking off his immense
penis. I had another few screaming orgasms just to show the kid I appreciated
him.
Then I felt Gumby come, pumping hot plasticine sperm into me for a few
seconds and then he was out of me and I could relax, or so I thought. It was
at that time that the kid came: it was frightening, I looked up and there was
this immense wall of come hurtling towards us. It splashed into the magazine
and filled up our photo. Lucky the girls were there to drink it all up, Gumby
helped a bit, too after he had tended to me.
First, he asked whether I had enjoyed it. *YES!*
Then he asked if he could retrieve his stuff. I nodded. He went behind me and
I felt his warm wet tongue lick my anus before entering. It, too, elongated
and went right up inside, searching for his tasty semen. I just quivered in
ecstacy as his tongue probed.
When he was sastified that he had every drop, he pulled out and I came again.
Then he gave me two dollars and left.
My magazine (my home) was thrown out because the pages were stuck together.
The boy grew up with a plasticine fetish and a homosexual tendency.
And Gumby moved into the book called ‘Atlas of the Human body.’

Anyway, I need to go now, I have something to tend to.
[ PS- the story- it's all true! ]

–

Two guys were stranded on a desert island.
The only way they could get food was to kill
sea birds by throwing rocks at them.
By the time they were rescued,
… They had left no tern unstoned.

[Father Goose #22]

There was once was this guy who developed a bad case of flatulence. The smell
was quite embarrasing, but what was worse was the sound which was a loud
“HONDA!” He went to a number of doctor (of course) and none of them
could help him (as is always the case in these tales). Finally out of
desperation he went to an old chinese doctor and explained his problem.
Without any examination the doctor said, “You have an abcessed tooth, have it
fixed and your problem will be solved.” So he went to a dentist, and sure,
enough he did have an abcessed tooth, which he had repaired, and his “HONDA”
farts went away as well. So he went back to the chinese doctor and said,
“What’s the punch line?” — or was it, “How did you know that I had an
abcessed tooth?”

“Because”, said the chinese doctor, “everybody know that …

… abcess make the fart go HONDA!”

[Father Goose #23]

Once in a land far, far away there lived a group of people called
Trids. The Trids were happy except for the huge ogre that lived
on the mountain. The ogre would periodically terrorize the Trids.

The Trids tired of the ogre and sought to reason with him. They thought
one of their religious leaders would be a good intermediary. So a group
of Trids and their minister went up the mountain and before they could
even say one word the ogre kicked them down the mountain. Not being
dismayed the Trids thought that maybe the ogre was Catholic, so they sent
another delagation, this time led by the local priest. But alas, as they
approached the ogre he once again kicked them all down the mountain.

The Trids were upset until they thought that perhaps the ogre was Jewish.
Unfortunately, no Trids were Jewish, so they wrote to the people of another
land and asked them to send a Rabbi to help them with the ogre. The
Rabbi arrived and led a delegation of Trids up the mountain. The ogre
saw them coming and kicked all of them, except for the Rabbi, down the
mountain. The Rabbi, having been told of the previous expeditions, wondered
why he alone had not been kicked down the mountain, so he asked the ogre.
The ogre laughed and replied:

“Silly Rabbi, kicks are for Trids!”

[Father Goose #24]

During the invasion of Sicily in World War II, General
George (“Blood ‘n’ Guts”) Patton was preparing to take the
city of Palermo. He checked with his meteorologists and learned
the day he had chosen would be incredibly rainy. So he issued
an order to place copies of the New York “Times” immediately
beneath the tailgates of the transports carrying his troops.
In this way the men could keep their feet dry.

His staff was mystified. Why the “Times”? Why not the New
York “Daily News”? Patton was adamant; and one did not argue
with the General. As five tons of old copies of the “Times”
were being loaded, the General issued one of his greatest
quotes to the assembled war correspondents:

“THESE ARE THE ‘TIMES’ THAT DRY MEN’S SOLES.”

[Father Goose #25]

Henry the Plantationer was the Lord of the best flower plantation
in all the land, but he had lost his family’s corner on the market of
fleur de lis (hard won by his father).
This loss enraged his cousin Richard, a nasty, deformed, but clever
man who was lord of the fields of white roses, and who raised 400 pound
attack boars for a hobby.
Henry’s other cousins, who lorded over the fields of red roses
were merely annoyed. They felt that Henry was a good man. He was a quiet
visionary gentleman, with a good raport with the heavenly father.
As time passed, Richard’s fury grew, and he openly proclaimed
that he, not Henry should run the plantation. This of course caused many
bad feelings.
These feelings came to a head one spring evening, when Henry
was hosting a fancy feast, with all of the local royalty attending
except (for obvious reasons) Richard.
When this fest was in full swing, Richard burst in, with five of
his biggest
most viscious attack boars. And they tore up the feast, and the people
turning it into a grotesque study of blood and flesh. When this was done
and only Richard and a few others were left alive, Gruesome Richard
proclaimed

“Now is the dinner of our wistful gent wrent gory assunder by this
ton of pork !”
[ The story draws from several Shakespeare Histories and the saying from
his Richard the Third, "Now is the winter of our
discontent made glorious summer by this Son of York."]

[Father Goose #26]

There was this troupe of dancers that traveled around
the country dancing in clubs and theaters. They were called
the Steppers. At one club, the Steppers did such a good job
of pulling in patrons that the management gave them all the
drinks they could drink after the show.

Well, they all got plastered and were having a big party.
When it came time to get on their bus to travel to the next town,
they did not want to stop partying, so they just moved the party
to the bus. As they rode down the highway, you could here their
yelling, singing, and laughing for miles.

At a house along that very highway, there lived a family that
had a pet snake. It was a viper, and it’s name was Peter. That
night, Peter Viper was asleep in his snake house in the back yard.
Suddenly, he was awakened by a loud racket. It was the bus
carrying the Steppers still having their party. But Peter didn’t
know that. In his confusion, he thought he was back in deep dark
Africa being pursued by Pygmies. He slithered out of his snake
house, headed across the yard as fast as he could, and crossed the
highway just in front of the bus. The bus driver, who was a little
sleepy, saw Peter Viper in the road, and mistook him for a giant log.
He swerved, and the bus landed in the ditch, drunk Steppers
lying everywhere.

The next day, the headline in the paper read “Peter Viper
wrecks a truck of pickled Steppers”.

[Father Goose #27]

President Eisenhower’s Mother had a sister; this lady constantly
had trouble in bright sunshine because her nose was so sensitive
that the skin peeled off every summer.

Her doctor made a simple remedy, a small cone of paper (like a
Dunce’s cap) which she stuck onto her nose at the first sign of
sun.

Do you believe this?

I didn’t until Mick Jagger sang about it.

Ike’s Aunt gets nose hat is fact, son

[Father Goose #28]

…End of the part4. To be continued..