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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He felt as if she wanted him, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now what was that supposed to mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The blonde he had seen earlier was conspicuously absent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! It’s you!”

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REASONS WHY GUITARS ARE BETTER THAN WOMEN

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

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

Now, for the opposite:

REASONS WHY WOMEN ARE BETTER THAN GUITARS

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Father Goose #1]

There were three Medieval kingdoms on the shores of a lake.
There was an island in the middle of the lake, which the kingdoms had
been fighting over for years. Finally, the three kings decided that
they would send their knights out to do battle, and the winner would
take the island.
The night before the battle, the knights and their
squires pitched camp and redied themselves for the fight. The first
kingdom had 12 knights, and each knight had 5 squires, all of whom were
busily polishing armor, brushing horses, and cooking food. The second
kingdom had 20 knights, and each knight had 10 squires. Everyone at
that camp was also busy preparing for battle. At the camp of the third
kingdom, there was only one knight, with his one squire. This squire
took a large pot and hung it from a looped rope in a tall tree. He
busied himself preparing the meal, while the knight polished his own
armor. When the hour of battle came, the three kingdoms sent their
squires out to fight ( this was too trivial a matter for the knights to
join in ). The battle raged, and when the dust cleared, the only person
left was the lone squire from the third kingdom, having defeated the
squires from the other kingdoms.

I guess this just proves that the squire of the high pot and noose is
equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides.

[Alternate version:]

It seems that there were these 3 pregnant Indian Squaws, all due to give
birth at about the same time. The first squaw gave birth to a boy, and the
birthing was done on a deer hide. The 2nd also gave birth to a boy, but this
was done on a bear hide. And, the third had twins, two boys, and
she did this on a hippopotamus hide.

I guess *THIS* shows us that the sons of the squaw on the hippopotamus hide
is equal to the sum of the squaws on the other two hides.

[Father Goose #2]

There was a new driver for the bus on Sesame Street. His first
day on the job, he awoke bright and early, went to the garage, got
the bus, and set off on his route.

At the first stop there was a chubby little girl waiting for
the bus. She climbed the step and got on, and said,
“Hi. My name is Patty.”
The driver replied,
“Hi, Patty. Please take a seat.”

At the second stop there was a second little girl, even chubbier
than the first. She got on and said,
“Good morning! My name’s Patty.”
The driver answered,
“Good morning. Please sit down.”

At the third stop there was a little boy waiting. He was dressed
in a white shirt and tie, and a suit with a vest, and he had a
calculator holster on his belt. He said,
“Hi. My name is Ross, and I’m special!”
The driver wasn’t impressed, but he managed a smile and said,
“Please sit down, Ross.”

The fourth stop rewarded the driver with a grubby little boy
with dirty jeans and torn sneakers. He got on the bus and said,
“My name is Lester Cheese.”
The driver replied,
“Please take a seat, Lester.”

Well, he’s driving along and he looks in his rear-view mirror
and sees that Lester Cheese has taken off his sneakers and is
scratching at his foot. The driver pulls the bus over to the
side of the rode, stops it, and says,

“I can’t take this any longer! I’ve got

two obese Patties,
special Ross,
Lester Cheese picking bunions
on a Sesame Street bus!

[Father Goose #3]

A while back, there were two kingdoms situated close by each other.
One kindgom had a powerful king, and the other had a relatively weak
king. The difference (or so everybody said) was that the powerful
king had a magic throne, which had the property of making people
powerful.
Well, the weak king wanted this throne, so he had a trusted
count get up an army (you know, knights, pages, reporters, that kind
of thing) to fetch it.
The army trudged along for a day or two (only the reporters
would know for sure) and came upon the powerful king’s castle.
The castle entrance was guarded by a huge yellow monster
with huge yellow hands. The army (being an army and all) attacked!
The huge Yellow Monster ate them all, except for two pages
who did not engage in the fight. The pages, being very frightened,
hid until nightfall.
When night came along, the pages peeked from their hiding
place and saw that the monster was asleep. The only thing guarding
the entrance now was the monsters huge hands draped in front of the
opening. The pages, being only 8 years old and all, were able to
squeeze through the yellow fingers and gain entrance into the
castle.

Moral: let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers.

[Father Goose #4]
Once inside the castle, the pages had no trouble finding the
throne. Combined, they were just strong enough to lift it, and were
able to carry it out of the castle. (The monster gave them no
further trouble, since they had the throne and everything.)
After having walked half the night with the heavy throne
between them, they were very tired and stopped at a grass house
to rest. The farmer who lived there, wanting to steal the throne for himself,
let them spend the night in the barn. The throne was “hid” in the
farmer’s attic.
Some hours later, the farmer stole into his barn and killed
the pages.
The farmer went back to bed. A few minutes later, the
throne crashed through the ceiling, crushing and killing the farmer
and his wife.

Moral: people who live in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones.

[Father Goose #5]
When the powerful king found his throne missing the next
day, he ordered HIS army to kidnap the other king’s count and force
him to tell where the throne was being hid. The session went as
follows:

king: Where is the throne?
count: I cannot tell you.
king: Then I will have you killed! Executioner, cut off his
head!
count: (as the axe is swinging down…)
Ok! I will tell you!
THWACK!!!

Moral: don’t hatchet your counts before they chicken.

[Father Goose #6]

A wild life photographer goes on an expedition to South America to photograph
the legendary and hitherto unseen foo bird. On the way he attempts to hire
porters from a tribe of Pygmys. They warn him of the dreaded curse on all
who look upon the bird and refuse to join. Undaunted the intrepid photographer
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Suddenly and abruptly, I feel a hand being placed on my
shoulder and look up in surprise to see two handsome
men in jeans and tee-shirts standing there. One of them says
he didn’t mean to disturb me, but they knocked on the front
door and there was no answer, so they thought they might
as well try to look around in the back to see if anyone were home.

He explained that they were here to fix the filter in the pool
and that my husband had called them this morning from his
office. “Oh yes!”,I said, the filter is broken. Go ahead.”

From where the pool filter was located those two hunks had a
great view of me and feeling kind of horny, I thought I’d give
them a show. I undid the strap of my bikini top so that just a
little tit was showing and I pulled my bottoms tight up into my
crack. I knew they could see and that I was having an effect.

One of the guys, a blond who said his name was Pete, walked
over and asked to use the bathroom. “Right through the door and
to the left.” I said, sitting up a bit and letting my top fall
free exposing my large ripe breasts. The look on his face was
one of shock and embarrassment. “Oops!” I said, and winked at
him.

He just smiled and headed to the bathroom. While he was
gone I called the other guy over, Jeff was his name, a tall
muscular fellah with black hair. “Could you put some sun tan
lotion on my back” I asked as I rolled over onto my stomach.

“Sure!” he said. Slowly he massaged the oil all over my back and
legs. Then I turned over and asked him to do the front too, which
he did with a grin. His large firm hands began squeezing and
rubbing my tits. As he did that I reached up and unzipped his
pants revealing a thick hard ten inch cock! I sat up on the
lounge chair and slid his hot meat into my mouth. I sucked
slowly on the head of his fat dick, slipping it in and out
between my red succulent lips. By then his friend was back and
was already taking off his pants. I laid back on the lounge
chair and removed my bottoms. I spread my legs wide and the
blond guy took his big hard shaft and plunged it into my
dripping cunt.

The other guy stood over me and fucked my large aching tits
and mouth with his giant prick. The two of them pumped away
filling my mouth and pussy with their cocks. I wiggled and
moaned as they thrust in and out of me, ravishing my hot naked
body. My pussy clamped down tight on the thick tool between my
legs brought me orgasm after orgasm. I could feel the cock in
my mouth swell and I sucked faster until the guy shot a hot
creamy load of come down my throat. Then the guy fucking me blew
his wad deep in my cunt. I laid back, basted in their love
juices, and smiled.

After all of that exotic lovemaking, we all went for a cool
refreshing swim and did it again before my husband got home.

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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