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you’d given up hope of it ever coming true it does. It’s like getting a

Christmas present in February. It’s not anything you expect, but it sure

can make you happy. That’s just what happened to me.

Before I share it with you I’ll give you a little background. I was

introduced to the pleasures of sucking cock at the tender age of 15 by one

of the neighborhood tough guys, who was a couple of years older than me.

He thought he was pretty cool, Mr. BadAss “forcing” another guy to polish

his knob, but he soon discovered that you can’t force the eager. It may

have burst his bubble to learn that I liked it, but it didn’t prevent him

from seeking me out. It was after all the perfect arrangement; he liked

being sucked; I liked sucking.

He gave me lots of practice; by the time I turned 16 I was a fairly adept

pole smoker. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy doing my neighbor, but after

taking his load at least 150 times I wanted to expand out to new (and

hopefully bigger) things. I looked at any good looking guy I saw as someone

who I could suck if the opportunity arose. It was just a matter of time

before something happened.

That summer, having just got my license, I wanted my own car. My dad made

me a deal. He owned a small manufacturing company. He’d front me the

money for my wheels, but I’d have to pay off my loan by working for him

during all school vacations. Who could pass up a deal like that? So that’s

how I met Eric.

Eric was 20 years old and everything I considered a super hunk to be. He

had short-cropped, sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, an All-American,

Saturday Evening Post kind of face together with a body that nearly took my

breath away the first time I saw him. He was my definition of

masculine. There’s no denying it, I was in lust at first sight. From the

moment I noticed the bulge protruding from the crotch of his jeans I wanted

to do nothing less than drop to my knees and worship it.

Eric had worked for my dad since his senior year in high school, but we’d

never met. I knew him by reputation only. Dad really liked him, saying he

was a hard and willing worker and dad was never one to hand out compliments

or praise just for the sake of doing so. At the time Eric was sort of a

jack of all trades, learning the entire operation from the ground up. Dad

had great hopes for advancing him as the business grew and prospered. My

summer job was going to be to take over running the outside errands and

office boy duties that he’ been doing while he became more involved in

learning the production end of the business.

Of course this meant that for the first couple of weeks I would be working

with Eric while he trained me. As far as I was concerned this was the

perfect arrangement and I determined to have him before the two weeks were

up. To understand where I was coming from, or at least to put it into

perspective, you need to know that I was an only child with asthma and I’d

become used to getting my own way. Not that I got everything just for the

asking, but if I was willing to work and plot, I usually got what I

wanted. Add to this the fact that I’d led a very sheltered life, despite

the fact that I’d been sucking cock for over a year, and really didn’t know

much about sex in the real world. So it’s somewhat understandable that it

didn’t occur to me that anybody would see anything wrong with one guy

wanting to suck another off, and I certainly didn’t realize that a guy who

enjoyed sex might turn down the offer of a blow job. Not even the fact that

Eric was married with one kid and another on the way deterred me in my

quest.

I certainly didn’t waste any time. We’d been out on the road alone for

about 20 minutes when, not even trying to maneuver the conversation toward

sex I just came out and asked,

“Eric have you ever had a blow job?”

He looked pretty shocked, at least by the abruptness of the question, he

laughed a little nervously and said, “course I’ve had a blow job. I’m

married aren’t I?”

I didn’t know what to say so I blurted out the first thing that came to my

tongue, “your wife blows you?” I’ll admit I felt more than a little stupid.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

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“Smell…you could smell me because I was in the room when

it was happening.”

“Bullshit! Bullshit!”

“I was there to make sure nothing went wrong; to make sure he

didn’t mess with you.”

“You were in the room all those times? Then if you’re not a

rapist you’re a goddam voyeuristic creep! But it was you; I know it

was you, and I’m calling the goddam cops on you, you fucking rapist

loser.”

She hung up the phone. I dug the bottle of bourbon out of my

closet, drank half a glass, then walked slowly to her dorm room. A

sheet of lined paper was tacked to her door with large, sloppy letters

commanding, “Go Away!”

I stared at the note for about half a minute, then walked

back to my room.

* * *

The next morning I found a note from her slipped under my

door:

“Dear Creep — I just wanted you to be fully aware of how

much you fucked up my life and ruined my sense of self-esteem.

You have made my sex life the subject of grotesque rumors all over

campus; you have made my vagina public intellectual property. Every

moment that I endure this hellish existence, the knowledge of

how you cheapened and hurt me grows stronger, more painful, like a

cancer devouring my conscience. You horrify me. Your former friend,

Jeanine. PS: Rotting in hell for eternity would be far, far too

gentle a fate for you. PPS: Don’t ever talk to me again.”

* * *

Peggy told me that Jeanine had initiated a series of telephone

sessions with a psychic in order to figure out who the guy was.

“Madame Horowitz is really a fantastic woman. Really empowered

by the purity of nature and the spirit earth. She lives in Los Angeles,

reads Tarot cards, tea leaves, astrology charts, palms, crystal balls.

Actually I think it’s all nonsense. Expensive nonsense. But Jeanine’s

pretty desperate.”

“She’s threatened to go to the cops,” I said.

“I know. But I think she’s afraid of her parents getting

involved. Her program of rigorous debauchery has given her a profound

sense of guilt.”

“She’s not so bad. Not nearly as bad as she wants to be.”

“She says the feeling of having fucked someone she can’t

identify by name or sight or anything else robs her of the feeling of

sexual accomplishment and makes her feel deeply violated.”

“She really enjoyed it for a while. She told me she was in

love with the guy.”

“Sounds like a normal relationship, the way her attitude

changed so drastically.”

“If she’d just screwed some guy at a bar she wouldn’t really

know much more about him than she knows about her Invisible Man. Not

really.”

“Yeah. Welcome to blind labyrinth of human sexuality. Here’s

a cast for your heart.”

Peggy stared at me, beaming with joyous sarcasm, her features

bearing a sinister slant. I wanted very much to kiss her.

* * *

Jeanine began wearing hats, sunglasses, and clothing made from

hemp. She changed her hair: once the color of maple syrup penetrated by

sunlight, she dyed it jet black. I sometimes saw her striding quickly

down corridors with a kleenex held over her mouth and nose. She stopped

painting her nails and wearing make-up. She stopped eating in the

cafeteria, preferring dried fruit and nuts she purchased from an

organic mail-order company. She stopped saying “Hi,” “How are you,”

or “What’s up,” but instead leapt instantly into the substance of the

few conversations she found necessary to have. She stopped inviting

people into her dorm room.

“She says she’s very chemically sensitive,” Peggy said while

we ate spaghetti with clam sauce at the cafeteria. “She threw away her

microwave, dumped her television, and now she’s trying to get rid of

everything made of plastic. She’s disciplining her environment.”

“What’s wrong with plastic?”

“She doesn’t ride in cars anymore.”

“What’s wrong with cars?”

“The fumes disrupt her bodily equilibrium. And plastics, she

thinks they emit toxic waves that distort her thoughts. She considers

it a form of chemical rape. She only listens to chants, and writes

everything in runes.”

“Does she ever talk about that guy anymore?”

“She doesn’t think that men are psychically evolved enough to

register in her world.”

“Does she still want to know who it was?”

“She claims she’s still a virgin, and plans to stay that

way.”

“Jesus Christ. She’s delusional.”

“She thinks people shape their own reality. What you decide,

what you focus on, that’s what’s real.”

* * *

About two weeks later Peggy discovered that Jeanine was

pregnant. Jeanine still denied having had intercourse, believing

instead that she had been procreatively enslaved by environmentally

reckless corporations.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Peggy said with an air

of investigative triumph, “But she thinks that toxic emissions from

the paint on her walls triggered spontaneous life-formation in her

uterus.”

“What’s hard to believe about that?”

“I’m serious. She said that.”

“Her walls are blue and green and red. Paisely slop she

threw up when she was going through her hippy thing. Does she think the

baby will be paisely-colored?”

“Christ, Bobby, I don’t know what she’s going to do. I asked

if I could take her in for an abortion, but she hasn’t gotten

permission from the foetus’ spirit yet.”

“If she doesn’t abort it, is she going to insist that the paint

company marry her?”

* * *

Shortly after Peggy persuaded her to get an abortion,

Jeanine escaped the narrow definition of “human being.” Humans were

creatures of wreckage, exploitation, environmental poisoning. She had

become part of the earth, a silent, passive, but resilient force

that adjusts to each new vile liberty people take with it. She had lain

on her bed blindfolded like a pristine grassy hill tunneled into by

callous metal miners, helplessly allowing, torn open, subjugated.

Ultimately, like the earth being stripped of its minerals, she lost her

child, but eventually endured the awful loss with an amnesiac

forgiveness. She seemed not to realize that any of it happened.

Events came to completion, but the play of natural forces went on.

In the months before I graduated I saw her regularly in the

agriculture department buildings, entering the greenhouses,

transporting tools and pushing wheelbarrows of soil and fertilizer.

She was learning the creativity of the earth.

One afternoon I saw her chatting with Paul outside a lecture

hall. She was gesturing excitedly as he smiled and nodded. I watched

from a cautious distance, half-shielded in a doorway, wondering if at

some level, perhaps unconsciously, she realized that he was the man who

had made love to her and impregnated her. After about three minutes

they walked to one of the campus coffee shops. I kept staring at the

shop they’d gone into, wondering about the quality of their interaction

with each other, the emotional atmosphere of their togetherness. And I

was consumed with sadness for her.

I walked to her dorm room. Standing in the corridor, I tore

a blank page from one of my binders, scribbled a brief note to her,

then slipped it under her door:

“I want to know who he is.”

“No.”

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

this from me.”

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

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

tell you without his consent.”

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

to kick your ass.”

* * *

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

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

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

was part of the bargain.

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

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

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

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

an uncharacteristic calmness. I had heard about deflowering having a

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

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

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

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

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

been surprised.

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

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

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

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

irony that this was when the problems began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

her tracks.

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

and wavering.

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

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

just now.”

Her face flushed, Jeanine rose unsteadily and walked to the

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

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

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

stranger approached her and claimed to be her anonymous lover.

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

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

* * *

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

to be her lover was: Prove it.

To which most of them replied:

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

…End of the part4. To be continued..

— I was greatly relieved to notice that he was not wearing boots –

then clumsily undid his pants. His heavy sterling belt-buck chinked

against something; shit, I thought, she’s already got a clue; he wears

a metal beltbuckle. I laid my fingers over my lips in the “Shhh!”

sign, and he nodded, though I don’t think he was aware that he’d

done anything wrong. I turned politely when his pants came off, and

sat down in front of Jeanine’s small television set, which was stacked

on top of a wooden box. I turned on the television set — a good

strategy, I thought, since the program’s sound would muffle any he might

make — and didn’t look up from the screen until the first commercial.

He was panting, and pulling up his pants. His eyes did not rest again

on Jeanine, who was lying on her side, her knees raised to her breasts.

Jeanine would not talk with me for a week after her dose of

mystery love. I guessed that that was the sexual equivalent of post-

battle stress syndrome — after all, that had been her first experience

with intercourse. For a while I was worried, but then she came to

visit me.

“I want to do it again,” she said, lighting a cigarette.

“Ah ha! See? It worked out, didn’t it?”

“First times are never smooth, Bobby. That was just to get

the job done; now I want to do it for fun.”

“I should charge you money for all my trouble.”

“You’re not a pimp. When can you set it up again?”

“I’ll have to communicate with your invisible knight.”

“You do that.”

* * *

One of the questions that I had to confront was whether to

select the same guy for the second event. As I saw it, the main

advantage was that if there was only one guy there was less chance

of the situation getting publicized. The more participants, the

greater the likelihood of someone blabbing. To tell you the truth, I

didn’t even really consider that using the same guy over and over would

increase the intimacy of the encounter, or that they would care more for

each other with repeat sessions. I assumed that since the guy was not

permitted to divulge his identity there was zero chance of any

intimacy.

But the downside of sticking with this one guy was that the

fellow was not a remarkable lover. It felt strange for me to evaluate

another man’s sexual competence, and I wondered if my standards weren’t

a bit slanted by my own preferences. Moreover, I realized that probably

no man could really flourish under these circumstances. But perhaps by

rating this guy’s moves truly objectively I might be able refine my own

skills as well. At any rate, my conclusion was that this guy was too

quick. Not a severe premature ejaculator, but probably far too quick

for Jeanine to really savor the experience.

“So, look, do you want me to get the same guy?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I do. I don’t want half the

male population at U.M. parading their penises through my room.”

“You’re exaggerating. All I’m saying is, I might be able to

get someone with more staying power. Maybe better endowed. Someone you

could enjoy more.”

“Are you going to ask to inspect their genitals before

admitting them?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, then, you might end up with a guy who shoots before his

cock even enters me, or a guy who’s got, I don’t know, two inches or

something. This guy — whoever he is — is reliable. Maybe not

exquisite, but he’s tried and true. Stick with him.”

* * *

Stick with him we did, for a total of nine sessions, and the

guy’s performances became increasingly effective. In all fairness,

I’d say he went from about a 2.5 to an 8. At first edgy, reserved,

a little bashful, he became graceful, attentive, and powerful.

Jeanine became more relaxed, shed her inhibitions and fears, began

grabbing his shoulders, arching orgasmically, clawing at his

back; vocally, she was like an orchestra warming up: she went from an

eerie, cadaverous silence to delicate moans to exultant laughter to

ecstatic wailing to animalistic shrieks. It was really incredible to

watch. Yes, I admit, the spectacle really tore me away from her

television set.

…End of the part3. To be continued..

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extraordinarily sexy woman. Suddenly, I was in lust.

After all, she wasn’t a dummy and she wasn’t some bimbo. I had

reason to believe that she was a sexually intense person, but because of

conventional morality, she didn’t feel free to share that side of herself with

her son. I’d been successful in developing and easy-going and partially

uninhibited relationship with her. There was an unspoken sexual tease to

be sure, but it remained submerged and unacknowledged. How might I

change? That was the question.

Crudeness would never work. That was a no-brainer. Similarly, a

frontal assault would be ineffective and worse, insulting. While she might

be more susceptible to a secret romantic connection because of my father’s

neglect, it wouldn’t be with me, that was clear.

I’d thought of enticing her into something like a nudist colony, even

mentioned it a couple of times. She was mildly interested, but I knew that

that was no more than a blind alley, an emotional cull de sac, and not even

a very sexual one. I feared the stiff and formal behavior I imagined a nudist

colony to be. Too, I suspected that it would provide at most little more

than an avenue for my voyeurism but no entre into sexuality. Nothing

there, I concluded.

Would some innocent approach move me closer? I remembered

that she’d been willing to allow me to massage her feet, even had been a bit

careless in her posture, at least at first. Might that provide an avenue of

approach?

Then I remembered that my mom liked her wine. She wasn’t a

lush, but it was clear that she didn’t stop drinking just because she began

“to feel it.” More than once she’d said, “Why drink if you don’t want to

feel it. I drink for effect.” I also remembered that when tipsy, she became

something of a sloppy drunk. Not fall-down drunk, but certainly risque

often and careless of appearances. I once overheard her say, “I drink to

make my *friends* more interesting.” This wasn’t a common occurrence,

but I had seen it rarely, and only with friends. Well, I was a friend, wasn’t

I?

—————————————————————–

I was waiting for my mother at the arrival gate. Boy, she looked

good as she stepped into the arrival area, an over-night bag hanging from

her shoulder and wearing a light summer dress, uncharacteristically brief

with a hem line well above her shapely knees.

“Hi, good lookin’.” I said to her as I stood there, hands on hips,

looking her over.

“Don’t just check me out, guy. How about a hug?” she asked,

dropping her bag and stepping into my arms.

Whew! I’d hugged my mother lots of times, but I didn’t recall such

intensity, such a full-body press. I was acutely aware of the pressure of her

breasts pressing into my chest and more, somehow her crotch was riding

on my thigh. I distinctly felt her pubic bone as I held her close and kissed

her, first on the cheeks, and then looking at the joy in her eyes, impulsively,

I planted a wet one on her lips. Did I feel a flash of tongue tip?

That fast. It happened that fast. I didn’t have a woodie when I saw

her, but when I stepped away from that kiss, I’d sprouted a boner. I

thought I detected her eyes flitting across my pelvis, but couldn’t be sure.

To hell with it, I thought. She knows I’m not a monk.

“Have anything more than this?” I asked, picking up her shoulder

bag.

“You kidding? You ask me up for a week end, for a dance, and

you think I’ve got it all in that little bag. Why I wouldn’t go to the tennis

club with that little bag alone.”

“A steamer?” I groaned.

…End of the part7. To be continued..

Six or seven months later towards the end of fall and the beginning
of winter, I was driving on the freeway back to my apartment when I
heard a car beeping it’s horn in the lane to my right. I turned to
look only to see Kim’s smiling face looking back at me from her new
Sunbird (working for an auto company has some advantages). She waved
at me and I smiled and waved back figuring that it would be it would
be impolite to flip her the bird and mouth the phrase “Eat shit and
die bitch!”. About fifteen minutes or so after I arrived back at my
apartment the phone rang and I answered it expecting it to be for one
of my four roommates (while Kim had gone and gotten a job that paid
big bucks, I went to grad school. Big mistake). When I picked it up I
heard that oh so familiar voice, Kim.

“Hi, Dave. When I saw you on the freeway I realized that I hadn’t seen
you in a while so I thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.”

“Oh, not too bad, how about you?”

…..

This mundane sort of drivel went on for a few minutes while I was
tried to figure out what the point of all this was. Eventually the
point became that she “kinda” missed me and would I like to go out
again. Being that I was bored and had no better prospects for that
coming Saturday I said “sure thing”, and told her I would pick her up
at 7:00 and we could go out for a nice dinner. Saturday came and that
afternoon I got another phone call from Kim.

“Would it be all right if we went to my friend’s house instead of
dinner? I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“No problem.” (I was way too nice in those days).

Now I was starting to get some bad feelings about this. As they
say, it was deja vu all over again. We went to the party and the only
thing interesting that came out of it was that when I was talking to
some of Kim’s friends from college (since Kim had left me to myself
most of the night), I found out that she had seen them about as much
as she saw me. She had been a very bad girl. So far the night was a
total waste so I was hoping I could salvage something from it later on
when we got back to her apartment (her roommate was gone so I didn’t
have to worry about any interruptions). When we arrived, I turned the
lights down low, put the stereo on an appropriate station and uncorked
a bottle of wine I had brought for just this sort of situation. She
poured a couple of glasses and we sat down on the couch for what I
hoped would be some serious passion. Soon my tongue was intertwined
with hers and my fingers were doing a nimble dance across her right
breast.

“Ahh,” I thought, “just like old times”.

I managed to get her shirt untucked and started slowly sliding my
hand up the front when I felt her hand gently push mine away.

“Arrrrrrgh,” I screamed to myself, “just like old times.”

I could see that this was going nowhere fast and decided to bail
out while I still had my sanity. The whole night was a waste and now I
was pissed. I mean, I could have stayed home and watched the WWF
championship grudge match or something equally culturally
enlightening. Anything would have would have been more fun than this.

“My, look at the time. I think I better get going.”

“Wait, why are you leaving?”

“You haven’t changed at all and it will be just as much of a waste
of my time to go out with you now as it was the last time.”

She looked slightly puzzled.

“How should I change?”

With that statement I felt my evil twin stir inside me. I really
couldn’t have cared less if I ever saw this bitch again so there was
no point in being polite about it.

“You can start by taking off your shirt.”

“What!?!?!”

“Take off your shirt or I’m ‘otta here.”

“No! What do you think I am?”

“An anal retentive little bitch. But that’s beside the point. See
ya. Have a nice life.”

By that time I had my shoes tied and I headed for the door.

“Wait.”

I turned. Kim just stood there looking nervous and more that a bit
scared. I stood there, looked at her for a few seconds then raised my
eyebrows and said,

“Well?”

Slowly, she raised her had to the top button of her blouse and
unbuttoning it with exquisite slowness. She did it that way because
her hands were trembling and she was unsure of what she was doing, but
it looked like a classic strip tease. My evil twin stirred again along
with my dick (they are closely related). Now things were looking up.
Maybe this evening wouldn’t be a waste after all. She finished undoing
all the buttons and slipped the blouse off her shoulders. Then she
just stood there, arms at her side holding the blouse in one hand. She
had on a plain white bra (I decided I could work on her undergarment
fashion sense later. Right now we had to get a few things straight
between us.) and that along with the tight blue jeans she was wearing
and her short haircut, she looked like she belonged in a Sears catalog
(like I said, I could work on her fashion sense later). I smiled.

“Now the bra.”

She obeyed without question, reaching behind her back to unhook it
and sliding it off over her arms and dropping it to the floor. Her
breasts were magnificent. Firm and high, a little larger that a
grapefruit with huge nipples about the size of pencil erasers. By now
I had a huge shit-eating grin on my face and the beginnings of a huge
hardon. I sat down on the couch so I could admire the view and she
asked,

“Is this what you wanted?”

She had regained some of her composure now but that vanished quickly
when I said,

“Yes, but we’re not done yet.”

“I’m not taking off any more.”

…End of the part1. 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!

Jenny and I discussed the day’s events over dinner. She
said she had been thinking about it a long time. Although she
couldn’t picture herself ever cheating on me with another man,
the thought of me watching her with another man grew and grew
until it became a full-fledged turn-on for her, too. She worked
the whole plan through her head for days, before she had the
nerve to actually call Danny and arrange for him to mow the lawn.
“So, how was he? His stamina depressed this 40-year old
man.”
Jenny giggled and said, “His stamina surprised this 35-year
old woman! I thought it would all be over and done in just a few
minutes.”
I toasted her with my wine, “You are the cause of that,
Dear. Your beauty, your amazing body, and your pure sexuality.”
Jenny blushed, “The whole time it was going on, I was
thinking about you watching me, knowing I was doing this for
you.”
I raised an eyebrow, “Oh, so then you didn’t enjoy it?”
She laughed, “Of course, I enjoyed it! If he ever learns
how to really use what he has, there will be a traffic problem in
the neighborhood from all the teenie-boppers lining up and
cruising by. He’s a real stud.”
A serious thought intruded, “You know he’ll want more, don’t
you?”
Jenny waved my concern away. “I’m sure he’ll ask or try,
but I’ll convince him it was a once in a lifetime thing that can
never be repeated.”
Jenny was right. She told me that a few days later, Danny
stopped by before I got home from work. Jenny said she sat him
down, held his hand and apologized for what happened. She said
she didn’t know what came over her, that she loved her husband
and could never risk her marriage like that, again. Apparently,
Danny took it all, with a pout, but finally left.
If anything, Jenny and I felt even closer than we did before
my birthday. Left with a quiet moment in work, or distracted
from a book, my mind would wander back to our porch, and I could
see another man’s hard, pink/purple cock spreading my wife’s pink
pussy lips, fucking her willing cunt.
……
On a Friday night in November I was home alone. A guy in
Jenny’s office was being transferred to Los Angles, and she was
at the going away party. A little after midnight, the phone woke
me.
It was Jenny, “If I were you, I’d take a chair into the
bedroom closet. I might be bringing home another birthday gift
for you. I love you.”
Surprised at the call, I hurried to make the bed and pry a
few louvers in the closet door apart. I was ready when I heard
the car pull into our driveway.
The front door opened, and I heard Jenny, “Thanks for the
ride home, Bill. I had too, too much to drink.”
Bill was the guy leaving for L.A. He was about my age and
very good-looking. “My pleasure, Jenny. The party was beginning
to drag, anyway. What do you say we wake Ron up and keep the
party going here?”
“No can do. Ron’s in Denver until tomorrow, and I’ve had
enough to drink for the night. I’m very tight! How about you?
Want a coffee or another drink?”
“Sure, coffee sounds great.”
“Good. I make a mean cup of coffee. But, first, let me get
these damn heels off.”
“I’ll keep you company.”
Jenny hit the light switch as she entered the bedroom and
Bill was one step behind her. I had the perfect view of him
reaching around my wife and cupping her breasts. Jenny leaned
her head back on his shoulder and said, “Ohhhh, Bill. You aren’t
trying to take advantage of my inebriated state, are you?”
His fingers had found Jenny’s nipples, and they were
obviously hardening to his touch. “Yeah, I want to take
advantage of you. I want to see how really tight you are, and I
don’t mean from the drinks.”
Jenny turned and pushed him back onto the bed. He was
sitting on the edge, looking up at her. Her back was to me and
I watched Bill’s face as my wife began to strip for him. Her
dress buttoned across the shoulders, and when open, fell to her
feet. Jenny slowly lifted the dark blue, full slip up over her
hips and head and stood still. She was still wearing her heels,
a dark lacy bra, tiny panties, garterbelt and stockings.
Bill licked his lips. “I want to see your tits.”
Jenny opened the front of her bra and dropped it to the
floor.
“Your pussy. I want to see your cunt.”
Jenny stepped out of her wispy panties and pushed Bill back
onto the bed. Then she knelt on the floor between his legs and
began to open his slacks. I heard the zipper and watched her
pull his pants down to the floor. His cock stood up pink and
rigid. Jenny shifted position to give me a perfect view as she
lowered her mouth over his cock.
She sucked him for a few minutes and then climbed up and
mounted him. Bill grabbed handfuls of her ass, “Oh, Jenny, you
ARE tight! All this time we worked together, we could’ve been
fucking like this. You walk around that office like the perfect
lady, but you are really one easy little slut, aren’t you?”
Jenny was responding to his cock and his talk, but before
she could get there, Bill tightened his hold on her ass and
…End of the part2. To be continued..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joe flipped the lights on and stared at us in shock.
I could sense his anger swell as his eyes darted in our direction,
seeing our naked bodies slick and stained with cum. I stared back at him,
somehow shot with a tinge of guilt, yet I forced a sinister glare and
said nothing…
“You cock suckin’ FUCK!” Joe managed to mumble out loud.
…End of the part3. To be continued..

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

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

[Father Goose #47]

Once upon a time, bad King John raised a mighty army and set
out to conquer the known world. After a series of
successful campaigns, the remaining kings realized that
their lone efforts would never prevail. They had to band
together under the leadership of the best general they had -
“George-the-Turk”.

George the Turk had promised that he would defeat bad King
John’s army and would place him on a rack – in a public
display – so that no one would ever again try to conquer the
world.

While George the Turk was assembling his army and scouting
out bad King John, he also ordered his engineers to design
and build the largest rack here-to-fore made. The rack was
then fitted with wheels and required 40 horses to pull it.
When all was ready, George the Turk set out to do battle.

Bad King John, who was camped by a river enjoying the spoils
of his latest victory, had not yet gotten word of George the
Turk’s army. George the Turk knew that his army must attack
quickly before Bad King John could prepare a defense. But,
alas, the 40 horse team pulling the large rack could not
keep up with the troops. George the Turk ordered more
horses to be teamed, but, still they lagged. George the
Turk remembered that Hannibul was not too far away in the
mountains with a herd of elephants. Elephants would be
better than horses for pulling the rack. So, George the
Turk sent his second-in-command to Hannibul to rent enough
elephants for the job. Hannibul agreed and also sent along
his best elephant handler.

This elephant handler quickly realized the importance of his
unique position in George the Turk’s army and insisted that
he be given the title of “elephant engineer” and a huge pay
raise. George the Turk agreed with the title and the pay
raise.

The rack, powered by elephants and driven by the “elephant
engineer” , kept pace with the rapidly moving army.

Late one night they arrived at the enemy camp by the river.
George the Turk deployed his troops to cut off any avenue of
escape and issued the order to attack at dawn – on his
command. He also ordered the rack to be positioned on the
highest hill overlooking bad King John’s camp. This site
was the perfect spot to publically display bad King John -
to show the world what happens to anyone who dares to try to
conquer the world.

With dawn approaching George the Turk goes to the top of the
hill beside the rack so that everyone can see his command to
attack: when his sword drops —ATTACK !!!!!

All is quiet. The enemy camp is asleep. Every man is
waiting for the signal. The first ray of sunlight strikes
the helmet of George the Turk. He draws his sword slowly
and holds it over his head. The sunlight gleams off the
blade — and scares the elephants that are hitched to the
rack. They start trumpeting and rearing and the elephant
engineer can’t control then. He drops the reins and clings
onto the rack for dear life. The rack breaks loose from the
team and starts rolling down the hill — straight for the
enemy camp.

All this noise wakes bad King John. He orders an aide to go
outside the tent to see what is the cause. The aide takes a
hard look, comes back into the tent, and reports:

“As near as I can tell –

it’s a rambling rack from George the Turk with an elephant
engineer” !!!

[Father Goose #48]

There was once a very influential farmer in an obscure part of China.
He had a problem, for which he sought the counsel of the two wise men
in town. So he summons the two wise men, Hing, who is an scientist,
and Ming, who is a sorcerer, and requests that they find a cure for
his chickens who are losing their feathers and dying.

Hing decides to pay a visit to his mentor at the Agricultural
Extension of the local Community College, under whom he studied many
years ago. The mentor recommends the book “Everything You Always
Wanted to Know About Diseases of Chickens, But Were Afraid to Ask”.
So Hing visits the library, borrows the book, and finds inside the
report of a study that finds that feeding the chickens with an
infusion of gum tree leaves is often a cure for chickens losing their
feathers.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Ming reads obscure writings of ancient
wise men, he meditates, and he reads tarot cards. He also tries to
read the entrails of a fetal pig. Getting no inspiration he uses his
old standby, reading tea leaves. In a spark of discovery, he decides
that an infusion of gum tree leaves is the cure.

On the appointed day, at the appointed time, and at the appointed
place, the two wise men report back to the influential Chinese farmer.
Ming reports “As gum sticks to tables and chairs, so shall an infusion
of gum tree leaves make feathers stick to chickens.” Hing agrees,
saying “Four out of five ornithologists recommend sugarless infusions
of gum tree leaves for their chickens who lose their feathers.” The
influential Chinese farmer is ecstatic, for the two wisest men in town
are of a single mind.

He decides to carry out their advice, and it does not succeed. The
moral of this story is “All of Hing’s courses and all of Ming’s ken
couldn’t get gum tea to feather a hen.”

[Father Goose #49]

A certain African tribe, mostly swineherds and fishermen, lived on the
shores of a bay; the bay had treacherous currents and water turgid with
sand, but fishing was good and the tribe propered. They attributed this
to their sacrifices — a prize boar each year to every tribal god except
the sea-god, who got a gorilla. (A wise chieftan a few generations back
had substituted gorilla sacrifice for human).
One year, the tribesmen could not capture a gorilla. The chieftan asked
the tribal wise-woman, the surviving member of a Swedish explorer couple
who had gone native and lived with the tribe for many happy years, if they
should substitute their best boar for the gorilla. She was strongly against
it, even to the point of suggesting herself as a human sacrifice; he was
horrified and reminded her that porcine offerings had always pleased the
other gods.
The time of sacrifice arrived. With prayers for the sea-god’s mercy, the
shamans went through the usual rituals with the boar instead of the gorilla,
culminating in its being taken to the middle of the bay and having its throat
cut as it was thrown in. Nothing went wrong and the next year was as prosperous
as usual. After that, pigs replaced gorillas.
MORAL: Let a swine be your gorilla in a grainy, grainy bay. And if your Swede
decries, just tell her that a swine will always pay…

[Father Goose #50]

When South Vietnam was nearing its end, and General Minh was in charge,
a popular artist came to him and asked to make a statue in his honor (at
government expense).
“Please, General Minh, you are the people’s hero,” he told him.
“Yes, but make the sculpture in bronze,” replied the general.
So the artist made the sculpture, but when it was unveiled in a small
private ceremony, the general was furious. For the sculpture was made in
gold.
“I want bronze,” he said, “I want bronze!”
The artist went away in a hurry, deeply impressed with this show of
…End of the part9. To be continued..

A young girl asked her mother “Mommy, do you get into heaven feet first?”

“I don’t know, why do you ask?”

“Because the maid’s upstairs with her feet in the air, shouting `God, I’m
coming, God, I’m coming,’ but dad’s on top and won’t let her go.”

–

I wrote this because of the last story I posted,
“In HOT Pursuit of Safe Sex” which brought me over 20
letters saying to keep up the good work. Again, the story
posted has no sex in it but the word sexual is used 6 times,
the word sex twice, intercouse once, “making love” twice,
kiss twice, breast once and lesbian twice.

In all Fairness, J. David Narkiewicz

Every other college student in the greater D.C. area was
trying to get an internship with a member of Congress. There were
three ways to get such a position: have a well connected family,
pick up the soap in the congressman’s shower or stick your nose in
a place I found olfactorily repulsive. Besides, interning paid
crap compared to other government jobs. I’d set my sights on
Custodial Assistant at the Capitol Building, search number
A8042299625.

I’d decided a suit was not in order for my interview, but I
did go with a shirt and tie. As I’d been instructed when informed
of my interview, I walked through the gardens at the back of the
Capital Building until I reached the East door. It was opened
before I could ring the bell. I was greeted by three rather large
men in suits complete with little microphones in their ears and
conspicuous bulges under their arm pits.

“Clark Thomas?” asked the tall black man who, amongst the
three, seemed to be in charge.

“Yes,” I stammered, feeling just a tad intimidated by the
not-so-Secret Service.

“Identification,” he demanded and I provided in triplicate.
I was photographed, finger printed, metal detected and thankfully
not cavity searched — no job was worth that. With a visitor’s
pass clipped to my shirt pocket, I was personally guided to my
destination by two football types also draped in suits and wearing
sun glasses even though they were indoors. They grunted for me to
proceed through a set of huge double doors.

My fantasy of being interviewed in a decrepit boiler room by
an old codger with the name “Bubba” sewn on his shirt were
quickly dispelled. There were no less than ten people sitting at
a large wooden table, all ready to interview me. Counting the
camera man and the stenographer, complete with mysterious
stenographer type machine, I felt like Christ at the last supper.
The difference here — aside from the fact that I didn’t have a
sixties lack-of-a-haircut and wasn’t wearing a toga — was that eight
of the disciples were female. They all sat at the table and had that
“send chills down your spine” look I commonly attribute solely to
militant lesbians.

I stood there until the blue-rinse woman sitting in the middle
of the table spoke into her mike, “Good Morning, Mr. Thomas.
Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

I caught myself looking around behind me in search of my
father, Mr. Thomas. Left with no one else to blame, I sat down at
a table of my own. For comfort they’d provided a pitcher of water
and two glasses — I was feeling more comfortable already.

With camera rolling and stenographer typing away, the blue-rinsed
woman, Congress woman Katrina “Kat” Schroeder, started with
my birth and asked me every conceivable question about my life. It
got weird when she reached the part about the eighth grade dance.
“Did you take one Kimberly Campbell to your eighth grade dance
when you were thirteen?”

“Yes, I did, ma’am.” I had no idea how any of this would
make me a better broom pusher, but bureaucracy was not to be
trifled with, especially at the federal level.

“During the course of the evening, did you say, and I quote
`I guess it was a date. That means we’re supposed to kiss good
night.’”

I just stared at her completely bewildered. Schroeder didn’t take
that as a response. “Answer the questions, please,” she said.

“I guess I did,” I stumbled. That was seven years ago, as
if I’d remember exactly what I’d said.

“Ha!” she screeched causing one of my glasses to
shatter. “So you confess to making sexual advances towards a
thirteen year old girl.” The other women at the table all nodded
in agreement and murmured like an impassioned lynch mob. Out of
desperation, I turned to one of the men at the table hoping for a
glimmer of support. It was only then that I recognized him as Ned
“pants-around-the-ankles” Kennedy. Since this had nothing to do
with a Congressional pay raise, he was staring at the ceiling doing
his best to ignore me.

Kat Schroeder had finished and promptly introduced, the right
honorable Anita Quill, Congresswoman and legal scholar from
Oklahoma. She was one of those fat, intimidate you with her
breath, black women. At the snap of her sweaty black fingers an
intern-type entered the room carrying a sheet of paper. It was deposited
on my desk. From the way the intern walked, I could tell he was a
type 2 intern.

Congresswoman Quill said, “Please, read the following letter.
It shall be entered into the record as Piece of Evidence 94.”
Pieces of Evidence 1 through 93 were such epic and incriminating
documents as my kindergarten report card which stated I worked and
played well with others and a detention I’d received in tenth grade
for not having my Spanish book covered –Muchas gracias para nada,
Meastro Stewart.

As I read Piece of Evidence 94, I could feel my face turning
red. This document dated back to when I worked as a volunteer
during the last presidential campaign. “Did you read the
letter?” demanded Congresswoman Quill.

“Yes, I did, Congresswoman.”

“That’s Congressperson,” she corrected.

Under my breath, I said, “If your ass were any tighter, you could
use it to turn a piece of coal into a diamond?” Of course, since there
was a microphone in front of me, the whisper became a shout and echoed
from every corner of the room. “diamond, diamond, diamond…”

The congressperson just glared and asked, “Were you the
author of this letter?”

I’d long since given up on getting the job, but still,
this was a question I’d gladly dodge. “Well, the signature
isn’t mine.” It certainly wasn’t. The letter was written on
stationary liberated from the presidential candidate I’d worked for.
It was a form letter of sorts, blank save for the pre-printed
closing at the bottom complete with “God Bless,” and the candidate’s
signature.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Ms. Quill retorted.
“Maybe I should refresh your memory.” She put her librarian
glasses on, picked up the letter and began reading:

Dear Ms. Travis,

Knowing that I surely enjoy your support in the upcoming
election, I’d like to bring your attention to another issue of dire
importance. A campaign worker of mine, one Mr. Clark Thomas, has
been without your romantic companionship since you began your
…End of the part1. To be continued..

[From The San Francisco Examiner, June 9]

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

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

–

[From The San Francisco Examiner, June 9]

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

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

–