When I met Tammy she had two kids, Cindy, fourteen and Thomas, five. Tammy was married to Thomas' father, John. They'd been together for six years. I have no idea how they made it that long. She despised the guy, hated him from the very start. She got together with him on account of his dick, she told me. Apparently, the guy was hung like a regular horse. And he had money. But when has that ever been enough? They hated each other. They cussed themselves out in front of the kids.
Tammy was 33 years old, when we met at work. I was 24. After a long night of heavy drinking and smoking pot, where I ended up puking outside a shit Mexican restaurant, she drove me home. I had no problem convincing her to come up to my apartment. We were still drunk, and that made it easier.
We made out on the couch. She was wonderful, full bodied, big breasted and gifted with a very nice pair of legs and an incredible ass. By the end of the night, I'd cum in her mouth. We fucked on the living room floor. From that night on, we got together as often as we could. She stole time from her kids. That bothered me. It never bothered me that she had a husband, though. We shared the same woman. He fucked his wife. So what? That was his duty. My joy in her had nothing to do with a piece of paper.
She didn't love John. That was clear. She used him to keep a roof over her kid's heads. Our relationship was less materially complicated. But it got more elaborately twisted. It was sex, sure. But over time, our adultery evolved.
“If I didn't have you,” she told me one time, “life would be unbearable. Do you understand what I'm saying? You and me, our time together, that brings me the only joy in my otherwise shitty life.”
Leave, I would say.
“I can't divorce him. Why? Are you going to marry me? With my kids and with how old I am? Get serious. I'm not going to divorce him. No. I'll make the most out of the situation. On my own, I'd have to move into the ghetto. I'd have to live next to bunch of gang-bangers.”
“You can live in a trailer park.” I'd say, jokingly.
“Fuck you,” she said.
I have a feeling John knew. How couldn't he? Tammy was gone so much.
I put myself in his shoes. The pressure must have built up, the fact that his wife was fucking other men. That idea obsessed him. And so, one day, when the kids were at school and Tammy was working, he had enough. He shot himself. Cindy, Tammy's daughter found him after school. I felt guilt then.
I told Tammy, “It's my fault.”
“Stop,” she said. “Don't. Please don't go there. How do you think I should feel? He's been on some serious antidepressants for years.” she said. “The drugs have side-effects. And he had issues that had nothing to do with you or me. So don't say anything. You don't know. No one knows why he did it. Only he does and now he's dead.”
Tammy and I didn't see each other outside of work for several days. She attended the funeral, and the next day told me she was going on a family vacation, a little something to reconnect with the kids. But before she left, she wanted to see me. It had been so long, I looked forward to being with her again.
“When you come back, maybe I can come to your home,” I said. “We don't have to sneak around.”
She smiled. “That would be nice. I have to be the best mother I can be,” she said. “I need to spend more time at home.”
On that night, after work and after several drinks at a bar, we went to my place and fucked, an amazing protracted scene of slow kisses, licking – full of deliberate touches and looking into each other's eyes. I held her tight and she came a few times, convulsing under my pressure.
We showered and washed each other, all the while kissing and caressing all over. She got down on her knees and sucked my cock in the tub. The shower rained down her face. We got out and dried ourselves with our towels. I still hadn't had enough. I had her bend over the sink, while I got down and ate her pussy out, licking her swollen clitoris, bitting her ass cheeks, even tonguing her puckered asshole. She squirmed and moaned.
We went back into the bedroom, to our cold sheets and we fucked again. She bit and scratched.
We went out for dinner at an Italian place and then came back to my apartment. We drank shots of tequila, and got hammered, just like the first time. Then we fucked again. With all we had done, it took us forever to climax. Sweat ran down our bodies. After an hour of this, we collapsed, still not satisfied. She lay next to me, stroking my whithered cock.
She cleared her throat. “Steve,” she said. “Can I tell you something? This is me, okay, and I'm not expecting anything from you. Don't freak out.” She got up on her elbows, and turned her tired face to me. Her huge tits hung beautifully down her chest. “You've been great to me all these months, especially recently. You keep me sane. I don't know what I'd have done without you. I want to let you know how much you mean to me, and not just for the wonderful sex, which is great. Let me tell you. The best. But even beyond that, I want to let you know that I appreciate you and that I love you,” she said. She sighed and fell back on my arm. “Don't say anything, now. Just know that whatever happens, I'll always love you.”
“I love you, too,” I told her. I explained a bit of what I meant by that. “I love you as my friend, as my lover.” I went on and on. I qualified it, but I meant it. That made her very happy.
She told me she wanted to give me something she'd never given anyone before.
“What's that?” I asked.
“Get up,” she told me, and jumped off the bed. I marveled at her stark, honest nakedness. “Come on, get up. You need to be standing.” I lazily slid off the bed and onto the cold wooden floor.
“Do you have any Vaseline?” she asked.
“No,” I told her.
“Any baby oil?”
I looked at her like she was crazy. “What would I do with something like that?”
She tapped her foot and pinched her nipple. “Shampoo, then?”
“What the fuck do you want with my shampoo, Tam?”
She put her hands on my arms, and kissed me, shoving her tongue deep into my mouth. “Will you just bring it to me?”
I left the bedroom and brought back an almost full bottle of VO5.
“That'll do,” she said. “I like VO5.” I didn't ask her any questions. “This'll clean up well, too, so it's perfect. Come over here, behind me. Maybe you'll want to turn on the lights. I think it's something you'd like to see. I wish I could see what it looks like.” She put her upper body on the bed. She grabbed the pillows blanket. Her ass hung over the side, so beautiful and round, and awkward. She spread her long legs wide and adjusted her body. “Pour that into my ass crack and then rub it in. I want you to fuck me up the ass. Have you ever done that?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
I got excited at trying something new. I'd never done this before. In the past, with other women, I'd brought up the subject, but none of my girlfriends would ever consider it. Now it was Tammy asking me. She was telling me she wanted me to fuck her where no man had ever fucked her.
“You sure about this Tammy?” I asked.
“Of course I'm sure. I want to give this to you, Steve. No one's ever fucked me there. They've asked. Man, have they pestered me about it. I've never let them. But I want to give that to you. You'll take it easy, won't you?”
“Of course.”
“Stop when I ask. You promise to be easy? I don't want to tear.”
I pinched and jiggled her butt cheek. “I'll take it easy.” I turned the bottle over on its top and then I squeezed the golden yellow liquid directly over the top of her ass, right below her tattoo of a dolphin jumping over a blue-green Zen symbol. The shampoo pooled into her ass crack. I spread her ass and the shampoo ran quickly down her ass and pussy, coursing through the wild mat of brown pubic hair.
“Ooh, that's cold. Just like that. Now, spread it in there. Don't be afraid to get those fingers into my asshole.”
I shoved a finger into her.
“Like this?” I asked.
“Yes, yes.”
It was hard at first. She was tight, definitely nervous. My cock was hard as a rock.
“Ooh, yes,” she said, “Get in there and work my asshole. I don't want you to hurt me.”
“I'd never hurt you,” I said.
We were both so anxious, anticipating it, like we were discovering some new country, exploring unexplored territories. Her asshole was so tight. It closed around my finger. But I knew how this worked. I had to keep turning and pulling on her sphincter, which I did. I got my finger in down to my knuckle. I licked my lips. I added another finger and worked her gently. Then I added another. I used my thumb, too. The shampoo built into a lather.
“You okay?” I asked.
She rolled her ass under my hand. She moaned. “Oh, my god, that feels good. Mmmm, this is going to be great. Oh, yes, fuck me with your fingers.” She inhaled through her teeth. “Oh shit, I feel like I'm going to poop...”
“Don't.”
“...but I'm not.”
I cautiously finger fucked her. I ran my other hand up and down her thighs. She pulled on the sheets and bit into the cushions. It was wonderful agony, I could tell. She lifted herself on the tips of her toes.
“That's enough,” she said. “I'm ready. I think.” She adjusted her feet and spread her butt cheeks apart. I looked into the gaping, small red tunnel. I salivated over this new object of my lust. I wiped my fingers on a t-shirt. “Come inside of me,” she said. “I can't barely contain myself. Fuck me in the ass,” she insisted and pulled at my ass as I pressed against hers.
I grabber her hair and rolled my swollen cock around her anus.
“Come on, Steve. Stop teasing and fuck me already. You have no idea how much I want that fucking cock inside me.”
“You want it, really? You want me fucking you in the ass?”
I grabbed the shampoo trapped in her cunt hairs and I lathered my shaft. I took a deep breath and then I pulled back my foreskin. I went in. The top of the head went right in without any trouble. I looked up. Tammy's mouth hung open.
“I'm putting it all in.” I told her.
“Go ahead, it feels nice. Mmm, it feels so nice.” She bit the blanket and closed her eyes.
I moved in and out, enjoying the new sensation of her ribbed asshole and the tight sphincter at the back of my cock. I loved watching myself disappear into her. Slowly at first and then with quicker movements, I moved in and out of her bowels. She wiggled and adjusted herself. She danced and bounced herself, turning on her cock-pinned ass. I built up speed, played with different rhythms. I jack-hammered in and out. I fucked her as hard as I ever had her pussy. She yelled for more.
“Fuck me, you fucking asshole. Fuck my ass, take my ass from me. Fuck it! Fuck it!”
I slowed the pace. “You're sure this is your first time, Tammy?” I asked her.
“Oh, you fucker. Of course it's my first time. How can you fucking ask me? I'm giving you my precious ass and you have the nerve to doubt me. You're the first, the first one I've ever let inside my butt, and now I'm your goddamn ass-fucked bitch.”
I smacked her ass and climbed over on top of her. I licked her spine and shoulder blades. She tasted salty and wet from her acrid sweat. I pulled out and shoved it as deep as I could. She screamed and panted for air.
“Tammy,” I said, “I'm going to shoot my cum inside of you.” I bit her back and hurried my pace.
“Just do it,” she said.
I tilted my head back and shot my cum over and over into her intestines. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut. She kicked her hips up and down, like she was fucking the bed. She convulsed and writhed, pulling the blanket into her arms. She kept up her ass action. She came right after me, with my cock still in her. When I pulled out, semen spewed from her stretched-out asshole. Her body collapsed. I wiped her ass with my t-shirt, and then I wiped the length of my cock.
“I loved that,” she said.
“Oh, thank you, Tammy.”
She lay prostrate, perfectly still, breathing deeply though her mouth. I patted her ass. She pulled her legs up into the bed. I thought about the bathroom, about soaping off my cock and washing it, but I skipped it. Instead, I got into bed behind her and pulled the cover over us. She wrapped my arm around her and I kissed the hairs at the base of her head.
“I'll always remember this,” she said.
“Me, too,” I whispered.
She woke up in the middle of the night, like she frequently did, got dressed and left. I vaguely remember her kissing my forehead. The next day, we emailed and talked on the phone for a few minutes. We reminisced about the night before.
“Yes, that was good,” she said. “I'll always remember last night.”
She told me she had to get ready to leave. She had a lot to pack.
“Where are you going?” I asked. I couldn't remember if she ever told me.
“Down the coast. A road trip.”
“When you get back, I want to see you again as soon as possible,” I said.
I didn't call or email her for most of her vacation. I didn't want to intrude on her family time. They deserved this time. I entertained myself by masturbating, thinking about Tammy. I couldn't back in there with her. That night when she let me into her ass was just the promise.
A few days before she was due back, I called her cellphone. She didn't answer and she never called back Nothing. This was strange. Maybe she'd lost her phone. I figured she'd call when she got back from vacation. Again, nothing. I called every few days, until I got the message that the number was disconnected. I couldn't figure it out. I drove by her house and looked through the curtains. The furniture was still there. But I could tell she hadn't come back. Mail overfilled the mailbox. I stopped by every once in a while. After a few weeks, the house went on the market. And that was it.
I never heard from her again.
That's how it ended. She meant so much more to me than I admitted to myself. It started off as sex and became friendship and when it couldn't go any further, it had to sacrifice itself for something new. She gave me the last thing she had to give of herself. Before me, She'd given away her heart, her cunt, her self-respect, everything that she valued. There was no more worth in any of it. Then one night, she gave me this precious intimate piece of her and then she closed the book. She severed the past, and went looking for a better life. She realized she was more than a neglectful mother and adulteress. She was more than just a cunt to be fucked.
She did it the hard way. She walked away.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Story: The Last Day At Work
It was seven in the morning, and I was sitting at my desk, catching up on my work as a developer. I was in the middle of writing an email, when I realized I wasn't alone. I heard a door open. Suddenly, the lights went on across the cubicle floor. Someone coughed.
I got up. “Hello,” I said.
“Over here, James. I don't want to spook you.” I was surprised to see Kathy the HR director waving. “I heard that you came in at the crack of dawn.”
“Earlier,” I joked.
“Had to come see it for myself. Early to rise, first to shine, eh? Mind if I join you?”
“Come on over,” I said, and sat down.
She stepped into my cubicle. I turned around, smiling. You saw Kathy, you'd smile too.
“Hey, James,” she said.
She had on her navy blue business suit with matching skirt and champagne blouse. Her pantyhose accentuated the long curve of her legs. She was something special, especially with that prim, brown, shoulder-length hair. She was straight out of some 1950s ad for wholesome living. She was thirty-four, and married with children, two preschool aged twin girls. I was twenty-four.
“What're you doing here so early, Kathy?” I asked. “You're an executive. Don't you guys come in at ten? Maybe there's a problem with your watch.” I loved teasing her. She was good humored enough to take it.
She laughed. “Maybe.” She smiled, showing her perfectly white teeth. “I'll have to check.” She leaned against a solid wall with her head. Her arms hung loose. “How was your weekend? Do anything fun?”
“It was good. Hung out with some friends. Went bowling.” The truth: I spent most of it jacking off to porn. “How was yours?”
“Great,” she said. “Went to the beach, tanned.” She turned her face side to side, and pulled her fingers through her hair. “Now, it's cloudy. Can you believe it? They say it's going to rain.”
“Perfect timing,” I said. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” she said demurely. I love going to the beach, wearing my 2-piece, drinking, walking around the town, burning under the sun. It was so much fun.”
“Just keep the kids away from the ocean.”
“What kids? It was just me and my girlfriends.” She laughed. “The girls are with their dad and his parents. This was a Grownup Girl's Night Out.”
“Well that sounds great, Kathy. Just great.”
“Anyway, the reason I'm here. I need to talk to you.” She stood up straight and straightened her jacket sleeves.
“Sure. I'll drop by. Maybe in a few minutes? I was in the middle of an email, but I should be finished in no time.”
“Yeah, okay. It's kind of urgent,” She got a chair from the cubicle across from me. Her skirt stretched wide against her thighs. It was a scene right out of some horny-teen movie. All I had to do was walk up behind her and poke her in the ass. The rest took care of itself.
“I can wait. Don't mind me. I'll just sit here and hum along,” she said.
“Thanks.”
She sat down. “Just don't take too long.”
She looked around my cubicle space. She had her legs crossed, the skirt riding up a few inches above her knees. I followed the shape and the darker brown outline of her pantyhose. I never saw Kathy wear pants. They weren't feminine enough for her, I guess. She turned back to me and I was too slow to not to get caught.
“What?” she asked. She crossed her leg over the other leg, and tugged on her skirt and smiled. She placed her hands on her knee. “Ready?” she asked.
“Yeah, I'm ready.”
“It won't take long.” I followed her to her office on the other side of the building. She walked with a tilt to her hips and a smile on her face. I kept a few steps behind, just so I could watch.
***
She took off her jacket and sat down behind her desk. I don't know what it is about a woman taking off an article of clothing. It was just a jacket, and I was already getting aroused.
“Please sit,” she said, and motioned to one of the two chairs in front of her immaculate desk. She didn't even have a computer on it, just a blotter, a pen and a vanilla envelope with my name written on an orange tab. Her office was clean and uncluttered. A few family pictures, a book shelf with half a dozen books, a lamp. “Figured we could use a little privacy,” she said. And then she didn't say anything. She furrowed her eyebrows and she bit her cheek.
“So, what's up?” I asked.
“James.”
“Kathy.” I chuckled.
“Okay. This isn't easy. It's never easy, but especially with someone you like. And I do like you, James. I hope I've shown you that. I consider you a friend. We've known each other how long, now?”
“Almost four years,” I said.
“That long? I remember when I first interviewed you. You'd just graduated college. The company was going places. We had all that money, remember? Millions.” She took a deep breath, and continued. “I'm sorry you have to hear this from me, James. This is the part of the job I hate the most.”
It was right then that I figure it out. I mean, what else could it be?
“You're losing your job.” She got the words out and she immediately dropped her elbows onto the table. She sobbed into her hands. “Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” She practically wailed. “Not very professional, of me. Oh my nose is running. Excuse me.” She blew her nose.
“Something I did?” I asked half heartedly.
“You? No.” She studied my face. “Your boss. He had a choice. He was asked to let go of someone in your team, Christine or you.”
“You know about Christine and Tim, right?” Christine was the junior programmer, one year out of college. She was okay, smart even, but she wasn't hired for her brains. Her tits were huge and she knew how to give a hell of a blow job. I knew from personal experience. It didn't last long. You work late, drink together. Things happened.
“I know,” she said.
“So? What's next?”
“Nothing. That's it.” She wiped the tears off her face.
“Any severance? A little extra money for years of faithful service?”
“No, nothing. Sorry.” She smiled. “I can help with references, I could look at your resume. Maybe I can talk to some people?” She took out a business card and wrote on the back. She handed me the card. “Call me when you're settled,” she said.
“I guess I'll pick up my stuff and leave, before everyone else gets here.”
“Wait,” she said. “Don't leave. Come over here. Can I have a hug. I just feel horrible.”
She opened her arms and I walked into her soft embrace. She wrapped herself around me, her face against my chest. I ignored the fact that I'd just lost my job and I focused on the moment. I gave her a nice tight squeeze.
“Oof, James. You're strong,” she said. She started patting and rubbing my back. I gave her a little rub, too.
“Mmm, we need more hugs,” I said.
When I lifted my hands, she was still holding on. In fact, she was hugging me tighter than ever. I couldn't let go. She held me firm, and now she was rubbing my hair.
“James,” she said, “Would you mine kissing me?” I felt the warm breath of her words against my cheek. The words stung like electricity. I put my lips against hers. She sucked me into her welcoming mouth. I squeezed her soft ass. She murmured something I couldn't understand.
“What?” I asked.
“You find me attractive don't you, James? I've seen how you look at me. Would you like to make love to me?”
“Of course,” stuttered out. “Do you want to leave? I live five minutes away.”
“No. That won't work. We need to do it now. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me on this table, right here in this office.” She worked on some buttons on her skirt and unzipped it down her leg. “Ready?” She looked at me, with a big grin on her face. She took off her skirt, revealing a set of black garters and a sexy black and emerald-green pair of panties.
“Wow, Kathy. You're amazing.”
I lightly touched her hips. I admired the swell of her stomach, and I thought, how crazy this all was, like something out of a porn movie. But this was real life, and I'd come to expect this kind of craziness.
“Hold on,” she said and maneuvered her panties down below her delicious tanned thighs. A small patch of brown pussy hair topped an otherwise perfectly waxed cunt. She stood back, and pulled apart her pussy lips so I could see her pink inside.
“May I?” I asked.
She nodded. I put my hand between her legs. She clasped her hand over mine. “That feels good. Oh yes, that feels good, but I want the real thing.”
“My real thing wants you,” I told her.
“I wish we had more time,” she said.
“Me, too. The things I'd do to you.”
She sat back on the desk. Above her waist it was the pure, wholesome Kathy I'd known, even if she was something of a tease. Below, she was this generous cunt that couldn't bare to see me go out empty-handed.
I took off the pants hanging around my ankles.
“Is this comfortable for you?” she asked. “Can you reach?” She opened her legs wide. I could smell her pungent juices, funky and sharp. “Are you ready?”
“Born ready.”
She grunted as my thick cock entered her tight hole. She was wet and ready, but even then her pussy had to get used to my size.
“Shit, James. You're a fucking monster.” She grabbed the back of her ankles and pulled them up by her head. “Impressed? I do yoga.”
I felt her pussy give and I fell in all the way.
“More, more,” she said. “I need to have it all. God, I feel it in my throat.” She stroked her neck and pretended to gag.
“Nine inches, Kathy, you can't have any more.”
I fucked her like a dog. She grooved and rolled under me. She came fast, and then she hurried the pace. “Come in me, James, oh, god, oh, god, come inside of me.” She moaned low, grunting, eking out all the pleasure from between her legs. I fucked her as deep and fast as I could, pulling out almost all the way and then slapping my balls against her ass.
“I'm coming for you, baby.” Is said and kissed her hot sweating face. This was getting messy. I shook my head, and then I shot load after load into her. I bit hard and squeezed my cock empty. I slapped my palms on her thighs. She heaved and shuddered. Our heads touched.
“Fuck, James. That was awesome,” she whispered.
“Shh,” I said. “I can hear them coming.”
Doors opened. Two women laughed by the front desk. It sounded like Barb and Cheryl, two of the company gossips. If they only knew. Kathy giggled and slid off the table. She got down on her knees and sucked my cock into her mouth.
I stroked her hair. “Are we going to do this again?” I asked.
“What do you think?” she gargled. “I wish we had more time right now. Your cock's delicious.”
“If you're hungry, I can feed you that and more at my place. How about lunch?” I picked up her panties and handed them to her. “Here, I think these are yours.”
“You're a gentleman.”
We got dressed and then we hugged one more time. People walked up and down the hallway.
She pried open the door. “Remember, this has to stay between us.”
“I promise,” I said.
“I'll walk you out,” she said. “Let's go get your things.”
Just before we left her office, I grabbed a hold of her ass. She pressed back into my hand, and laughed.
“Come on,” she said. “I have to walk you out. Let's go say goodbye to your friends, and then lets see about that lunch.”
I got up. “Hello,” I said.
“Over here, James. I don't want to spook you.” I was surprised to see Kathy the HR director waving. “I heard that you came in at the crack of dawn.”
“Earlier,” I joked.
“Had to come see it for myself. Early to rise, first to shine, eh? Mind if I join you?”
“Come on over,” I said, and sat down.
She stepped into my cubicle. I turned around, smiling. You saw Kathy, you'd smile too.
“Hey, James,” she said.
She had on her navy blue business suit with matching skirt and champagne blouse. Her pantyhose accentuated the long curve of her legs. She was something special, especially with that prim, brown, shoulder-length hair. She was straight out of some 1950s ad for wholesome living. She was thirty-four, and married with children, two preschool aged twin girls. I was twenty-four.
“What're you doing here so early, Kathy?” I asked. “You're an executive. Don't you guys come in at ten? Maybe there's a problem with your watch.” I loved teasing her. She was good humored enough to take it.
She laughed. “Maybe.” She smiled, showing her perfectly white teeth. “I'll have to check.” She leaned against a solid wall with her head. Her arms hung loose. “How was your weekend? Do anything fun?”
“It was good. Hung out with some friends. Went bowling.” The truth: I spent most of it jacking off to porn. “How was yours?”
“Great,” she said. “Went to the beach, tanned.” She turned her face side to side, and pulled her fingers through her hair. “Now, it's cloudy. Can you believe it? They say it's going to rain.”
“Perfect timing,” I said. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” she said demurely. I love going to the beach, wearing my 2-piece, drinking, walking around the town, burning under the sun. It was so much fun.”
“Just keep the kids away from the ocean.”
“What kids? It was just me and my girlfriends.” She laughed. “The girls are with their dad and his parents. This was a Grownup Girl's Night Out.”
“Well that sounds great, Kathy. Just great.”
“Anyway, the reason I'm here. I need to talk to you.” She stood up straight and straightened her jacket sleeves.
“Sure. I'll drop by. Maybe in a few minutes? I was in the middle of an email, but I should be finished in no time.”
“Yeah, okay. It's kind of urgent,” She got a chair from the cubicle across from me. Her skirt stretched wide against her thighs. It was a scene right out of some horny-teen movie. All I had to do was walk up behind her and poke her in the ass. The rest took care of itself.
“I can wait. Don't mind me. I'll just sit here and hum along,” she said.
“Thanks.”
She sat down. “Just don't take too long.”
She looked around my cubicle space. She had her legs crossed, the skirt riding up a few inches above her knees. I followed the shape and the darker brown outline of her pantyhose. I never saw Kathy wear pants. They weren't feminine enough for her, I guess. She turned back to me and I was too slow to not to get caught.
“What?” she asked. She crossed her leg over the other leg, and tugged on her skirt and smiled. She placed her hands on her knee. “Ready?” she asked.
“Yeah, I'm ready.”
“It won't take long.” I followed her to her office on the other side of the building. She walked with a tilt to her hips and a smile on her face. I kept a few steps behind, just so I could watch.
***
She took off her jacket and sat down behind her desk. I don't know what it is about a woman taking off an article of clothing. It was just a jacket, and I was already getting aroused.
“Please sit,” she said, and motioned to one of the two chairs in front of her immaculate desk. She didn't even have a computer on it, just a blotter, a pen and a vanilla envelope with my name written on an orange tab. Her office was clean and uncluttered. A few family pictures, a book shelf with half a dozen books, a lamp. “Figured we could use a little privacy,” she said. And then she didn't say anything. She furrowed her eyebrows and she bit her cheek.
“So, what's up?” I asked.
“James.”
“Kathy.” I chuckled.
“Okay. This isn't easy. It's never easy, but especially with someone you like. And I do like you, James. I hope I've shown you that. I consider you a friend. We've known each other how long, now?”
“Almost four years,” I said.
“That long? I remember when I first interviewed you. You'd just graduated college. The company was going places. We had all that money, remember? Millions.” She took a deep breath, and continued. “I'm sorry you have to hear this from me, James. This is the part of the job I hate the most.”
It was right then that I figure it out. I mean, what else could it be?
“You're losing your job.” She got the words out and she immediately dropped her elbows onto the table. She sobbed into her hands. “Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” She practically wailed. “Not very professional, of me. Oh my nose is running. Excuse me.” She blew her nose.
“Something I did?” I asked half heartedly.
“You? No.” She studied my face. “Your boss. He had a choice. He was asked to let go of someone in your team, Christine or you.”
“You know about Christine and Tim, right?” Christine was the junior programmer, one year out of college. She was okay, smart even, but she wasn't hired for her brains. Her tits were huge and she knew how to give a hell of a blow job. I knew from personal experience. It didn't last long. You work late, drink together. Things happened.
“I know,” she said.
“So? What's next?”
“Nothing. That's it.” She wiped the tears off her face.
“Any severance? A little extra money for years of faithful service?”
“No, nothing. Sorry.” She smiled. “I can help with references, I could look at your resume. Maybe I can talk to some people?” She took out a business card and wrote on the back. She handed me the card. “Call me when you're settled,” she said.
“I guess I'll pick up my stuff and leave, before everyone else gets here.”
“Wait,” she said. “Don't leave. Come over here. Can I have a hug. I just feel horrible.”
She opened her arms and I walked into her soft embrace. She wrapped herself around me, her face against my chest. I ignored the fact that I'd just lost my job and I focused on the moment. I gave her a nice tight squeeze.
“Oof, James. You're strong,” she said. She started patting and rubbing my back. I gave her a little rub, too.
“Mmm, we need more hugs,” I said.
When I lifted my hands, she was still holding on. In fact, she was hugging me tighter than ever. I couldn't let go. She held me firm, and now she was rubbing my hair.
“James,” she said, “Would you mine kissing me?” I felt the warm breath of her words against my cheek. The words stung like electricity. I put my lips against hers. She sucked me into her welcoming mouth. I squeezed her soft ass. She murmured something I couldn't understand.
“What?” I asked.
“You find me attractive don't you, James? I've seen how you look at me. Would you like to make love to me?”
“Of course,” stuttered out. “Do you want to leave? I live five minutes away.”
“No. That won't work. We need to do it now. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me on this table, right here in this office.” She worked on some buttons on her skirt and unzipped it down her leg. “Ready?” She looked at me, with a big grin on her face. She took off her skirt, revealing a set of black garters and a sexy black and emerald-green pair of panties.
“Wow, Kathy. You're amazing.”
I lightly touched her hips. I admired the swell of her stomach, and I thought, how crazy this all was, like something out of a porn movie. But this was real life, and I'd come to expect this kind of craziness.
“Hold on,” she said and maneuvered her panties down below her delicious tanned thighs. A small patch of brown pussy hair topped an otherwise perfectly waxed cunt. She stood back, and pulled apart her pussy lips so I could see her pink inside.
“May I?” I asked.
She nodded. I put my hand between her legs. She clasped her hand over mine. “That feels good. Oh yes, that feels good, but I want the real thing.”
“My real thing wants you,” I told her.
“I wish we had more time,” she said.
“Me, too. The things I'd do to you.”
She sat back on the desk. Above her waist it was the pure, wholesome Kathy I'd known, even if she was something of a tease. Below, she was this generous cunt that couldn't bare to see me go out empty-handed.
I took off the pants hanging around my ankles.
“Is this comfortable for you?” she asked. “Can you reach?” She opened her legs wide. I could smell her pungent juices, funky and sharp. “Are you ready?”
“Born ready.”
She grunted as my thick cock entered her tight hole. She was wet and ready, but even then her pussy had to get used to my size.
“Shit, James. You're a fucking monster.” She grabbed the back of her ankles and pulled them up by her head. “Impressed? I do yoga.”
I felt her pussy give and I fell in all the way.
“More, more,” she said. “I need to have it all. God, I feel it in my throat.” She stroked her neck and pretended to gag.
“Nine inches, Kathy, you can't have any more.”
I fucked her like a dog. She grooved and rolled under me. She came fast, and then she hurried the pace. “Come in me, James, oh, god, oh, god, come inside of me.” She moaned low, grunting, eking out all the pleasure from between her legs. I fucked her as deep and fast as I could, pulling out almost all the way and then slapping my balls against her ass.
“I'm coming for you, baby.” Is said and kissed her hot sweating face. This was getting messy. I shook my head, and then I shot load after load into her. I bit hard and squeezed my cock empty. I slapped my palms on her thighs. She heaved and shuddered. Our heads touched.
“Fuck, James. That was awesome,” she whispered.
“Shh,” I said. “I can hear them coming.”
Doors opened. Two women laughed by the front desk. It sounded like Barb and Cheryl, two of the company gossips. If they only knew. Kathy giggled and slid off the table. She got down on her knees and sucked my cock into her mouth.
I stroked her hair. “Are we going to do this again?” I asked.
“What do you think?” she gargled. “I wish we had more time right now. Your cock's delicious.”
“If you're hungry, I can feed you that and more at my place. How about lunch?” I picked up her panties and handed them to her. “Here, I think these are yours.”
“You're a gentleman.”
We got dressed and then we hugged one more time. People walked up and down the hallway.
She pried open the door. “Remember, this has to stay between us.”
“I promise,” I said.
“I'll walk you out,” she said. “Let's go get your things.”
Just before we left her office, I grabbed a hold of her ass. She pressed back into my hand, and laughed.
“Come on,” she said. “I have to walk you out. Let's go say goodbye to your friends, and then lets see about that lunch.”
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Story: Suze's Basement Apartment (redux)
[Graciously edited by Cristal Ball]
On a spring day, just after six in the afternoon, I drove home horny. It was a long drive, so I went fast, 60 in a 40 mph zone. I thought about nothing else but getting home. Chills ran down my legs, just thinking about what I had coming. Two women, two cunts. I shook my head. I whipped out my cock. How'd I get so lucky.
I pulled into my property and parked under a huge maple tree.
When I got inside the house, I heard jazz echoing off the high walls. Miles Davis' Kind of Blue. The music came from the kitchen. I found my wife, Karen, in there, surrounded by grocery bags, and stirring a pot. The place was a wreak.
“Karen?” I said.
“Oh. Hi, Steve,” she said.
She had on a blue dress with white, lacy trim. It complemented her chocolaty dark skin. She looked like a black Betty Crocker, or maybe it was a young, hot Aunt Jemima.
“What's the occasion?” I asked, and moved behind her, pulling out her hips and holding them firm. I shoved my crotch into her and bent over to kiss her neck. She laid down the knife.
“Can't a wife cook for her man?” she said. Her smile broadened, and she turned her cheek to me. I gave her a big one under her ear, and kept my lips there.
Her body smelled of cinnamon and apples. I squeezed her large tits, one after the other. She moaned softly, and turned around to kiss me, over and over gain. Her lips were colored a shimmery shade of ochre. When I licked them, she responded by opening her mouth and flicking out her tongue all over my face.
“Turn off the stove. Let's go upstairs,” I said.
She raised her hands between us, and pushed on my chest.
“No,” she said. “Unless you plan on helping me in the kitchen, and you know you don't, I need you to get out. I'm doing this for all of us. Come on, baby, I'll fuck you after dinner.”
I gripped her behind the ass, and she pulled away. She put on a good struggle, but not too good. She rubbed my cock and I hiked her skirt. I noticed she wasn't wearing her underwear. I ran my fingers through her curly cunt. I rubbed and squeezed her fine legs.
“Steve,” she said, with her eyes closed. “I gotta cook.” She lightly bumped my head with hers. “You're going to make me burn dinner. We don't want that.” She touched my face.
“Just a little,” I said.
“Fine.” She turned around and held her skirt up with her hands. She shook her delicious black ass and opened her legs. I goosed her and got her cunt hole between my thumb and finger. I pushed my fingers in and held her like a bowling ball, while I rubbed a nipple.
“I love you, Karen,” I said, and thrust my fingers deep into her. She let out a panting breath and hiked her leg on a trashcan.
“Steve, Steve,” she said. “I have to cook. Please, honey-bear, let me finish.” She grabbed my crotch and squeezed me a few times. She hooked my pants and led me out. “Go say hi to Suze. She's waited all day to see you.” She smiled. “Scat!” she said.
“Okay.”
I darted out of there with Karen's cunt juice on my hand, and a hard-on in my pocket. Let me tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be, being a well-hung black man. Not that I'm complaining, and neither was Karen, nor, for that matter, Suze.
I opened the door to the basement, located just outside the kitchen, between the living room and utility closet. It was dark. I grabbed the wooden rail, and wiped my hand, going down.
I heard my wife's voice from upstairs, “Don't take too long. Dinner's almost ready. And bring her with you.”
Halfway down the steps, I saw her. She had her back to me. Mama mia. She wore a shiny opalescent blouse that I'd given her. She wore it Daisy Duke style, high above her midsection. A pair of low-riding stretched out jeans hung below her soft, wide hips. I followed the curve of her naked spine as it led to her ass. I wanted to cum all over that back.
Her ass filled out nice and big, bigger than most white girls, and firm, too. Her brown hair fell half way down her back, soft and full bodied. She combed herself in front of a tall mirror. She paused, tilted her hip and felt the shape of her stomach. She pushed it out and passed her hand round its swelling curve.
I breathed out.
What a beautiful woman, a white women, I thought, and right under my house. I coughed to get her attention.
She turned around.
“Suze, how you doing?” I said. “Karen said you wanted to see me?” I pulled on my cock.
She put down her brush, and hiked her pants. “Hi, Steve. Oh, baby, I missed you so much. I thought you'd forgotten about me.” She walked toward me. She took my hand in hers and passed her fingers across my palm. She sniffed it, smiled and licked the inside.
“How's Karen?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. “Haven't you seen her already?”
“Only in the morning, after you left. We fooled around a little bit.”
“Oh, like what?”
“You know girl things.” She twisted and smiled with her thumb in her mouth.
“Baby, I am not in a teasing, mood.”
I pulled her close and kissed her on her lips, and spanked her ass. That's all she needed. She moved her hands all over me. I'm a big guy, 215 pounds, and she's fairly small, smaller than my wife, five foot-two, maybe 130 pounds. But don't let that fool you. She's more than a match for me.
I grabbed her two big butt cheeks, like hard jelly, and picked her off the ground, eye-level to me. She wasted no time. She lashed her tongue through my lips, past my teeth and probed my mouth. Her tongue felt cold; she needed it.
“I missed you,” she said. “Your girls can only eat so much pussy and ass in one day. We've been going crazy for your dick.”
“Yeah?” I pressed my mouth against her smooth throat. She groaned.
“All day,” she reassured me.
“Well, I've been itching to fuck that little twat of yours, all the liv long day.”
She got her hands into my briefs. She squeezed and yanked my dick around. She smiled like the devil.
“Let's do it,” I said. I took off my pants, and she started unbuttoning hers. It took some trying, but she got them past her thighs. Her white, meaty flesh bulged out of their confinement. She shoved and kicked her pants off with her feet.
“Let me look at you,” I said, turning her in my hands.
She raised her hands behind her head and tilted her hips. She was gorgeous, shapely and soft all around. I looked behind her ass. She circled on her toes. Fantastic.
I chuckled.
She untied the knot on her shirt, and freed her D-cup tits. She smiled and swung them across her body, like two sacks. I grabbed a flying breast and rubbed it between my fingers. She moaned softly. One of her hands climbed my back.
“This too?” she asked and snapped her green sheer panties. She wore them below her hips. The wisp of a material covered nothing. Her tuft of pubic hair bulged at the crotch.
“You're a damn tease.” I shook my head. “You know that?”
“I don't tease,” she said. “I deliver.”
She gave me a big shove. I went reeling into the unmade bed.
“Sorry,” I said, and put my hands up. “Didn't mean it, baby. Take it easy.”
I pulled my shirt and underwear off. I pumped my muscles and smiled at her. Her blue eyes glittered in spite of the dim light in the room. She spread her magnificent legs. Truly a black man's dream. A curvy white chick with a thin waist, tight pussy and ass, and a nasty mouth. She slid her index finger into her hole. My dick grew. She bent her knees and twisted her fingers inside her cunt.
I bent her ass every which way. I kissed her a hundred times on her hips and down her thighs. She looked down on me and I smiled back. I opened her legs wide and she tried to pull away. But she couldn't budge, not with my strong hands gripping her legs. I bit her ass.
“Ouch. Hungry, aren't you?” she said. “Well eat my pussy, hungry-man.”
I shook her quivering ass.
She popped her finger out, and licked off her spunk. Damn.
I lay back on the bed and she slid her bottom over me. She sat her ass on my chest, pubes just inches from my face. She grabbed the wall and then steadied her cunt into my mouth. Her hairs pressed against my nose. I excavated her wiry surface with my tongue. I probed the mountain of pubes, and then I found them sticking out, thick and meaty. I slurped her flapping pussy lips between my lips and sucked. Swish!
She pushed. “God! Tongue fuck me, Steve. Fuck my cunt with your mouth,” she said.
I stretched my tongue as deep as it would go and licked out her tangy insides. I built up some saliva and licked the bitterness away. This chick was the honey, peaches, and the cream. Especially the cream. I made her pay with my appetite and drank deep from her pussy.
“Giddy up, cowpoke,” she said, and bopped up and down, swinging her hips. “Ooo-eee!”
I smacked my lips and munched her cunt. Her juices flowed down my throat. She had her fun and rode me for a few minutes. Gradually she took on a steady rhythm, and pressed down on my face. I knew this part. I'd been here before. She quickened her pace. She bucked and shoved her cunt.
“Oh, Steve, fuck, fuck,” she said. “I'm cumming, you pussy sucking, bastard.” She used my chin and rode me up to my nose. Finally, her big white ass squeezed tight over my mouth.
“Ah, shit. Ah, shit,” she said. She tilted her body back, hands pressing on the bed.
I pulled her down and pasted my lips on that patch of skin separating her cunt from her asshole. She tried to jump. But like I said, I'm a big man.
“Hey!” she screamed. She damn near blew up. Her body shook and trembled. I stuck my tongue between her butt cheeks, and then threw her back on my chest.
I panted. “Let me fuck you,” I said.
“Okay,” she said. “You have to fuck this country slut, I get it,” she said, and sat back.
“Yeah, come on,” I said, and helped her position my cock between her legs. She held it there. I wanted to push her down. She rolled her lips under her teeth. It still scared her.
She froze me with her green eyes. “I love fucking you, Steve,” she said. “You know that, don't you? If all I ever had was your dick...You're just so big, it hurts sometimes.”
“It'll get easier, you'll see.” I gave her a little thrust. I pressed the knob into the outside center of her cunt. She felt slick and wet, but utterly impenetrable. Then, she turned her hips, and her cunt twisted apart, stretched, and opened. She blinked and grinned.
“Just a second,” she said, shut her eyes, and grimaced.
I was in, but just barely, maybe four inches. Eight more to go. I squeaked my cock along her tight canal. I'm thick as hell and didn't want to tear her. I let her relax, and gave her vagina time to stretch. I read her face. She hummed and smiled. She sat her ass down inch by inch. She took her time. And then she breathed in and out and dropped the rest of me into her.
“Oh, fuck,” she said. “Oh, fuck.”
“My girl,” I said.
She turned her face left and right and stroked her hair. She showed me how pretty she was. Pretty as they came. I rocked on my ass. I fucked her nice and gentle.
“You can go harder, now, Steve,” she said.
I patted her legs. I got into a little rhythm, just like she liked it. She met my every thrust. She timed me like we'd been doing this forever.
“Okay, here we go.” I clapped my dark hands against her thighs. She lifted her cunt half way along my cock and I fucked her in midair. Shit. She shook her hair, and buried my cock back into her with one long sweet movement.
“Fuck,” she said, and sucked the spit through her teeth. She pushed her tits up and started hopping on me. I grabbed her by the hips. She took my hands off.
“No. Let me,” she said. She stared into my eyes.
She put her hands on my chest, and climbed all the way up my cock, again. She took her cunt to a point where I barely hung in there. A draft licked my balls; then a pause; then a quick sudden drop. Slam! She shut her eyes tight. She repeated this five times.
She rolled her head. “Mmmph,” she said. Her cunt slid up and down my pole. She was so tight! She moaned and opened her mouth, breathing quickly. She ran her hand down her throat.
“Oh, god,” she said. “I came, again.”
I swallowed. Her long hair fell in front of her face. She shuddered like one of those George Romero zombies.
“Shake it off,” I said.
A smile pierced through her sloppy canopy of hair.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she said.
She smiled, and hummed. I fucked her faster. She swerved he cunt. Her hands shaped her body. I leaned forward and sucked one of her rounded buds. I bit and sucked her, until I remembered I had to finish this quickie that had gotten out of hand.
“My turn to cum,” I said.
She reached back and pressed my balls. She held her hand on my scrotum, while I rolled her wet cunt over me. I pushed her up and down, and sideways. I could do anything to her and she'd love it. I felt the rush into my cock and then saw her react as I filled her with my semen. She got it by the cup full. I'd seen it before. I knew I came like a horse.
I kept my hands on her hips. Her cunt quivered. Maybe it was me.
“Aghh!” I cried and collapsed. I couldn't move for a few seconds. I blinked. I caught my breath. I blinked, again. She giggled. She slid a few fingers into her hole from behind. When she removed them, thick globs dropped onto the bed.
“Ah, man. Help, help,” she said. “Something to clean up.” She got off the bed.
Her legs shook and trembled. She walked like a drunk. Her hands balanced against the wall, her legs pressed close together. She made it to her dresser and looked back. I smiled. She pulled out a drawer and grabbed some clothes.
My wife's voice called from above. “Dinner's ready. Wrap it up and get to the table.”
“Pants,” I said to Suze.
She threw me my pants, along with my underwear, and a rag. I wiped my stomach and tossed the rag back. She caught it, wiped herself, focusing on her pussy, and then dropped the soiled rag into a laundry basket.
I looked at her in genuine wonder. Could this last? How long would she stay? What would happen to us?
I walked to her, and slipped my hand around her waist and into her panties. Her stomach felt softer than usual. I fingered her poor, swollen cunt, and nibbled her ear. I kissed her hot cheek.
“Let's go eat,” I said.
I pulled on my shirt and watched her get dressed in a loose pair of pajama bottoms that rode into her ass cheeks. She had nothing else on. She didn't need anything else. I pulled her tit into my mouth and gave her a long loving suck.
“Steve,” she said. “I have something to tell you,” she said. She looked nervous.
“What?”
She bit her lip. “Steve, I'm pregnant.”
“Wow,” I said. Wow.
“And you're the daddy.”
I called Karen down, and told her the news. She already knew. She hugged and pressed her head to my chest.
“Why do you think I was cooking this special dinner?” said Karen.
We'd been trying for years. She told me later, she'd hoped one day we'd find the right partner to share our life with. We could make it work. We had an open trusting relationship. We'd find someone we both liked, and we'd get a kid that way. Then, Suze entered our lives and Karen got to know her. Maybe, just maybe, she was the one. We lived together and we fucked together. Karen wished for the best.
This was a happy day. Suze and Karen kissed deeply and passionately. They couldn't get their hands off each other. I got between them and put my arms around their shoulders. Everyone kissed and hugged. The girls cried. And dinner? Dinner could wait.
We got undressed and celebrated.
On a spring day, just after six in the afternoon, I drove home horny. It was a long drive, so I went fast, 60 in a 40 mph zone. I thought about nothing else but getting home. Chills ran down my legs, just thinking about what I had coming. Two women, two cunts. I shook my head. I whipped out my cock. How'd I get so lucky.
I pulled into my property and parked under a huge maple tree.
When I got inside the house, I heard jazz echoing off the high walls. Miles Davis' Kind of Blue. The music came from the kitchen. I found my wife, Karen, in there, surrounded by grocery bags, and stirring a pot. The place was a wreak.
“Karen?” I said.
“Oh. Hi, Steve,” she said.
She had on a blue dress with white, lacy trim. It complemented her chocolaty dark skin. She looked like a black Betty Crocker, or maybe it was a young, hot Aunt Jemima.
“What's the occasion?” I asked, and moved behind her, pulling out her hips and holding them firm. I shoved my crotch into her and bent over to kiss her neck. She laid down the knife.
“Can't a wife cook for her man?” she said. Her smile broadened, and she turned her cheek to me. I gave her a big one under her ear, and kept my lips there.
Her body smelled of cinnamon and apples. I squeezed her large tits, one after the other. She moaned softly, and turned around to kiss me, over and over gain. Her lips were colored a shimmery shade of ochre. When I licked them, she responded by opening her mouth and flicking out her tongue all over my face.
“Turn off the stove. Let's go upstairs,” I said.
She raised her hands between us, and pushed on my chest.
“No,” she said. “Unless you plan on helping me in the kitchen, and you know you don't, I need you to get out. I'm doing this for all of us. Come on, baby, I'll fuck you after dinner.”
I gripped her behind the ass, and she pulled away. She put on a good struggle, but not too good. She rubbed my cock and I hiked her skirt. I noticed she wasn't wearing her underwear. I ran my fingers through her curly cunt. I rubbed and squeezed her fine legs.
“Steve,” she said, with her eyes closed. “I gotta cook.” She lightly bumped my head with hers. “You're going to make me burn dinner. We don't want that.” She touched my face.
“Just a little,” I said.
“Fine.” She turned around and held her skirt up with her hands. She shook her delicious black ass and opened her legs. I goosed her and got her cunt hole between my thumb and finger. I pushed my fingers in and held her like a bowling ball, while I rubbed a nipple.
“I love you, Karen,” I said, and thrust my fingers deep into her. She let out a panting breath and hiked her leg on a trashcan.
“Steve, Steve,” she said. “I have to cook. Please, honey-bear, let me finish.” She grabbed my crotch and squeezed me a few times. She hooked my pants and led me out. “Go say hi to Suze. She's waited all day to see you.” She smiled. “Scat!” she said.
“Okay.”
I darted out of there with Karen's cunt juice on my hand, and a hard-on in my pocket. Let me tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be, being a well-hung black man. Not that I'm complaining, and neither was Karen, nor, for that matter, Suze.
I opened the door to the basement, located just outside the kitchen, between the living room and utility closet. It was dark. I grabbed the wooden rail, and wiped my hand, going down.
I heard my wife's voice from upstairs, “Don't take too long. Dinner's almost ready. And bring her with you.”
Halfway down the steps, I saw her. She had her back to me. Mama mia. She wore a shiny opalescent blouse that I'd given her. She wore it Daisy Duke style, high above her midsection. A pair of low-riding stretched out jeans hung below her soft, wide hips. I followed the curve of her naked spine as it led to her ass. I wanted to cum all over that back.
Her ass filled out nice and big, bigger than most white girls, and firm, too. Her brown hair fell half way down her back, soft and full bodied. She combed herself in front of a tall mirror. She paused, tilted her hip and felt the shape of her stomach. She pushed it out and passed her hand round its swelling curve.
I breathed out.
What a beautiful woman, a white women, I thought, and right under my house. I coughed to get her attention.
She turned around.
“Suze, how you doing?” I said. “Karen said you wanted to see me?” I pulled on my cock.
She put down her brush, and hiked her pants. “Hi, Steve. Oh, baby, I missed you so much. I thought you'd forgotten about me.” She walked toward me. She took my hand in hers and passed her fingers across my palm. She sniffed it, smiled and licked the inside.
“How's Karen?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. “Haven't you seen her already?”
“Only in the morning, after you left. We fooled around a little bit.”
“Oh, like what?”
“You know girl things.” She twisted and smiled with her thumb in her mouth.
“Baby, I am not in a teasing, mood.”
I pulled her close and kissed her on her lips, and spanked her ass. That's all she needed. She moved her hands all over me. I'm a big guy, 215 pounds, and she's fairly small, smaller than my wife, five foot-two, maybe 130 pounds. But don't let that fool you. She's more than a match for me.
I grabbed her two big butt cheeks, like hard jelly, and picked her off the ground, eye-level to me. She wasted no time. She lashed her tongue through my lips, past my teeth and probed my mouth. Her tongue felt cold; she needed it.
“I missed you,” she said. “Your girls can only eat so much pussy and ass in one day. We've been going crazy for your dick.”
“Yeah?” I pressed my mouth against her smooth throat. She groaned.
“All day,” she reassured me.
“Well, I've been itching to fuck that little twat of yours, all the liv long day.”
She got her hands into my briefs. She squeezed and yanked my dick around. She smiled like the devil.
“Let's do it,” I said. I took off my pants, and she started unbuttoning hers. It took some trying, but she got them past her thighs. Her white, meaty flesh bulged out of their confinement. She shoved and kicked her pants off with her feet.
“Let me look at you,” I said, turning her in my hands.
She raised her hands behind her head and tilted her hips. She was gorgeous, shapely and soft all around. I looked behind her ass. She circled on her toes. Fantastic.
I chuckled.
She untied the knot on her shirt, and freed her D-cup tits. She smiled and swung them across her body, like two sacks. I grabbed a flying breast and rubbed it between my fingers. She moaned softly. One of her hands climbed my back.
“This too?” she asked and snapped her green sheer panties. She wore them below her hips. The wisp of a material covered nothing. Her tuft of pubic hair bulged at the crotch.
“You're a damn tease.” I shook my head. “You know that?”
“I don't tease,” she said. “I deliver.”
She gave me a big shove. I went reeling into the unmade bed.
“Sorry,” I said, and put my hands up. “Didn't mean it, baby. Take it easy.”
I pulled my shirt and underwear off. I pumped my muscles and smiled at her. Her blue eyes glittered in spite of the dim light in the room. She spread her magnificent legs. Truly a black man's dream. A curvy white chick with a thin waist, tight pussy and ass, and a nasty mouth. She slid her index finger into her hole. My dick grew. She bent her knees and twisted her fingers inside her cunt.
I bent her ass every which way. I kissed her a hundred times on her hips and down her thighs. She looked down on me and I smiled back. I opened her legs wide and she tried to pull away. But she couldn't budge, not with my strong hands gripping her legs. I bit her ass.
“Ouch. Hungry, aren't you?” she said. “Well eat my pussy, hungry-man.”
I shook her quivering ass.
She popped her finger out, and licked off her spunk. Damn.
I lay back on the bed and she slid her bottom over me. She sat her ass on my chest, pubes just inches from my face. She grabbed the wall and then steadied her cunt into my mouth. Her hairs pressed against my nose. I excavated her wiry surface with my tongue. I probed the mountain of pubes, and then I found them sticking out, thick and meaty. I slurped her flapping pussy lips between my lips and sucked. Swish!
She pushed. “God! Tongue fuck me, Steve. Fuck my cunt with your mouth,” she said.
I stretched my tongue as deep as it would go and licked out her tangy insides. I built up some saliva and licked the bitterness away. This chick was the honey, peaches, and the cream. Especially the cream. I made her pay with my appetite and drank deep from her pussy.
“Giddy up, cowpoke,” she said, and bopped up and down, swinging her hips. “Ooo-eee!”
I smacked my lips and munched her cunt. Her juices flowed down my throat. She had her fun and rode me for a few minutes. Gradually she took on a steady rhythm, and pressed down on my face. I knew this part. I'd been here before. She quickened her pace. She bucked and shoved her cunt.
“Oh, Steve, fuck, fuck,” she said. “I'm cumming, you pussy sucking, bastard.” She used my chin and rode me up to my nose. Finally, her big white ass squeezed tight over my mouth.
“Ah, shit. Ah, shit,” she said. She tilted her body back, hands pressing on the bed.
I pulled her down and pasted my lips on that patch of skin separating her cunt from her asshole. She tried to jump. But like I said, I'm a big man.
“Hey!” she screamed. She damn near blew up. Her body shook and trembled. I stuck my tongue between her butt cheeks, and then threw her back on my chest.
I panted. “Let me fuck you,” I said.
“Okay,” she said. “You have to fuck this country slut, I get it,” she said, and sat back.
“Yeah, come on,” I said, and helped her position my cock between her legs. She held it there. I wanted to push her down. She rolled her lips under her teeth. It still scared her.
She froze me with her green eyes. “I love fucking you, Steve,” she said. “You know that, don't you? If all I ever had was your dick...You're just so big, it hurts sometimes.”
“It'll get easier, you'll see.” I gave her a little thrust. I pressed the knob into the outside center of her cunt. She felt slick and wet, but utterly impenetrable. Then, she turned her hips, and her cunt twisted apart, stretched, and opened. She blinked and grinned.
“Just a second,” she said, shut her eyes, and grimaced.
I was in, but just barely, maybe four inches. Eight more to go. I squeaked my cock along her tight canal. I'm thick as hell and didn't want to tear her. I let her relax, and gave her vagina time to stretch. I read her face. She hummed and smiled. She sat her ass down inch by inch. She took her time. And then she breathed in and out and dropped the rest of me into her.
“Oh, fuck,” she said. “Oh, fuck.”
“My girl,” I said.
She turned her face left and right and stroked her hair. She showed me how pretty she was. Pretty as they came. I rocked on my ass. I fucked her nice and gentle.
“You can go harder, now, Steve,” she said.
I patted her legs. I got into a little rhythm, just like she liked it. She met my every thrust. She timed me like we'd been doing this forever.
“Okay, here we go.” I clapped my dark hands against her thighs. She lifted her cunt half way along my cock and I fucked her in midair. Shit. She shook her hair, and buried my cock back into her with one long sweet movement.
“Fuck,” she said, and sucked the spit through her teeth. She pushed her tits up and started hopping on me. I grabbed her by the hips. She took my hands off.
“No. Let me,” she said. She stared into my eyes.
She put her hands on my chest, and climbed all the way up my cock, again. She took her cunt to a point where I barely hung in there. A draft licked my balls; then a pause; then a quick sudden drop. Slam! She shut her eyes tight. She repeated this five times.
She rolled her head. “Mmmph,” she said. Her cunt slid up and down my pole. She was so tight! She moaned and opened her mouth, breathing quickly. She ran her hand down her throat.
“Oh, god,” she said. “I came, again.”
I swallowed. Her long hair fell in front of her face. She shuddered like one of those George Romero zombies.
“Shake it off,” I said.
A smile pierced through her sloppy canopy of hair.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she said.
She smiled, and hummed. I fucked her faster. She swerved he cunt. Her hands shaped her body. I leaned forward and sucked one of her rounded buds. I bit and sucked her, until I remembered I had to finish this quickie that had gotten out of hand.
“My turn to cum,” I said.
She reached back and pressed my balls. She held her hand on my scrotum, while I rolled her wet cunt over me. I pushed her up and down, and sideways. I could do anything to her and she'd love it. I felt the rush into my cock and then saw her react as I filled her with my semen. She got it by the cup full. I'd seen it before. I knew I came like a horse.
I kept my hands on her hips. Her cunt quivered. Maybe it was me.
“Aghh!” I cried and collapsed. I couldn't move for a few seconds. I blinked. I caught my breath. I blinked, again. She giggled. She slid a few fingers into her hole from behind. When she removed them, thick globs dropped onto the bed.
“Ah, man. Help, help,” she said. “Something to clean up.” She got off the bed.
Her legs shook and trembled. She walked like a drunk. Her hands balanced against the wall, her legs pressed close together. She made it to her dresser and looked back. I smiled. She pulled out a drawer and grabbed some clothes.
My wife's voice called from above. “Dinner's ready. Wrap it up and get to the table.”
“Pants,” I said to Suze.
She threw me my pants, along with my underwear, and a rag. I wiped my stomach and tossed the rag back. She caught it, wiped herself, focusing on her pussy, and then dropped the soiled rag into a laundry basket.
I looked at her in genuine wonder. Could this last? How long would she stay? What would happen to us?
I walked to her, and slipped my hand around her waist and into her panties. Her stomach felt softer than usual. I fingered her poor, swollen cunt, and nibbled her ear. I kissed her hot cheek.
“Let's go eat,” I said.
I pulled on my shirt and watched her get dressed in a loose pair of pajama bottoms that rode into her ass cheeks. She had nothing else on. She didn't need anything else. I pulled her tit into my mouth and gave her a long loving suck.
“Steve,” she said. “I have something to tell you,” she said. She looked nervous.
“What?”
She bit her lip. “Steve, I'm pregnant.”
“Wow,” I said. Wow.
“And you're the daddy.”
I called Karen down, and told her the news. She already knew. She hugged and pressed her head to my chest.
“Why do you think I was cooking this special dinner?” said Karen.
We'd been trying for years. She told me later, she'd hoped one day we'd find the right partner to share our life with. We could make it work. We had an open trusting relationship. We'd find someone we both liked, and we'd get a kid that way. Then, Suze entered our lives and Karen got to know her. Maybe, just maybe, she was the one. We lived together and we fucked together. Karen wished for the best.
This was a happy day. Suze and Karen kissed deeply and passionately. They couldn't get their hands off each other. I got between them and put my arms around their shoulders. Everyone kissed and hugged. The girls cried. And dinner? Dinner could wait.
We got undressed and celebrated.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
DRAFT: Suze's Basement Apartment (redux)
Draft Version.
When I got home from work, I found Karen busy with dinner. I made out with her on the kitchen counter and goosed her inside her skirt. She was naked underneath and I spent some time showing her I appreciated her thoughtfulness. She pulled my dick out and shook me a few times. She let me diddle her for a good while, and then she kicked me out of the kitchen. She said I distracted her.
“Scat!” she said.
Dinner was going to be a while. She had chicken broiling in the oven and a whole bunch of other things popping on the stove.
I ran out of there with the smell of her cunt on my hand, and a hard-on in my pocket. Let me tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be, being a well-hung black man. Just try walking around with an arm in your pants, for a change.
Not that I'm complaining.
I had some time to kill, so I decided to sneak out, and say hi to Suze, my underground friend.
I opened the door to the basement, which was located just outside the kitchen, between the living room and utility closet. I grabbed the rail, and wiped my hand against it going down.
I heard my wife's voice from behind, “Don't be too long. Dinner's almost ready. And ask her if she wants to come join us.”
The steps didn't make a sound. I made sure of that when I installed them. The old ones had been falling apart. The air was earthy and moist, though, even a little drafty. That was my next project, make it homely. Suze would never say a word. It wasn't her way. This was her home, as nice as anything she ever had. She loved it here. She'd been with us for about two weeks.
I was half way down the steps when I saw her. She had her back to me. Mama mia. She wore an old, blue dress shirt I'd given her. The shirt was tied Daisy Duke style, high above her midsection. A pair of low-riding stretched out jeans hung below her wide hips. I followed the curve of her naked spine and stroked my cock. I waited behind a supporting beam, taking in this fleeting intimate moment.
Her ass was nice and big, bigger than most white girls. Her hair fell half way down her back, soft and full bodied. She combed it in front of a tall mirror. She was always brushing her hair. She did it when she watched TV, or sitting out back looking at the evergreens. It was like she flew away from whatever she was doing. She paused, tilted her hip and felt the shape of her stomach. She pushed it out and passed her hand around its swelling curve.
I breathed out.
What a beautiful woman, a white women, I thought, and right under my house. Must be parts in the U.S. that alone gets you run out-of-town, if not worse. Well, fuck that. This is fucking Canada.
I coughed to get her attention.
She turned around.
“Suze, how you doing?” I said. “Hey, Karen wants you to join us for dinner.”
She put down her brush, hiked her pants, and patted her thighs. “Hi, Steve. I missed you, honey. I thought you'd forgotten about me.” She walked toward me. “How was writing?”
“Not bad. Wrote ten pages. Better than some of those literary types with their page a day.” I said.
“You stud, you.” She shook her hair, like she was in a beer commercial. “Did you write about me?”
I locked my hands on her small waist. She snaked her arms around my neck.
“How about you?” I said. “How's the writing coming?”
“You can see for yourself.” She motioned with her head to the desk across the room.
A neat stack of freshly printed pages waited next to the computer.
“You can read them, later,” she said. “Do you mind if we fool around a bit. Maybe a quickie?”
“Ah, princess. It's gonna have to be quick.”
She took my palm with her hand and passed her fingers across my palm. She sniffed it, smiled and licked the inside.
“How's Karen?”
“Fine,” I said. “Haven't you seen her already?”
“Only in the morning, after you left. We fooled around a little bit.”
“Oh, like what?”
“You know girl things.” She twisted and smiled with her thumb in her mouth. Fuck, she was teasing again.
“Baby, I am not in a teasing, mood.” I pulled her close and kissed her on her lips, and spanked her ass. That's all she needed. She crawled over me. I'm a big guy, 215 pounds, and she's fairly small, smaller than my wife, five foot-two, maybe 130 pounds. But don't let that fool you. She's an animal in bed.
I grabbed her two big butt cheeks and picked her off the ground, eye-level to me. She wasted no time, and slashed her tongue through my lips, past my teeth and rubbed my teeth. It felt cold. I knew she was horny when it got like that.
“I missed you,” she said. “Your girls can only eat so much pussy and ass in one day. We've been going crazy for your dick, all day.”
“Yeah?” I pressed my mouth against her smooth throat. She groaned.
“All day,” she said.
“Well, I've been itching to fuck that little twat.”
She got her warm hand into my briefs.
“Fuck,” I said.
She kept on squeezing and yanking my dick around. She looked like a tramp up to no good.
I took off my pants.
She pulled her hands out and rubbed an itch in her crotch, and started unbuttoning hers, She grabbed hold of them and yanked them hard. She grinned. It took some trying, but she got them past her thighs. Her meaty flesh bulged out of their confinement. She shoved and kicked them right off with her feet.
“Let me look at you,” I said.
She raised her hands behind her head and tilted her hips. She was gorgeous, shapely and soft all around. I looked behind her ass. She circled on her toes.
I chuckled.
She untied the knot on her shirt, flicked her fingers and freed her D cup tits. She smiled and swung her tits across her body, like two sacks. I grabbed a swollen nipple and rubbed it between my fingers. She moaned softly and pulled her hair behind her back. She snapped her green panty's elastic.
“This too?” she asked. She wore them low, under her hips and they barely covered her tuft of reddish brown pubes. Not bad for a white girl. Not bad at all.
“You are a tease.” I shook my head. “You know that?”
“I don't tease,” she said. “I do what I promise.”
She gave me a big shove. I went reeling into the unmade bed.
“Sorry,” I said. I put my hands up. “Didn't mean it, baby. Take it easy.”
I sat up on the bed and got undressed. I kept my socks, though. The granite floor was freezing. I looked up at her. Her blue eyes glittered in spite of the dim light in the room. She spread her magnificent legs, that and her tits, that's where her extra fat went to. Truly a black man's dream. A curvy white chick with a thin waist, tight pussy and ass, and a nasty mouth. She slid her index finger into her hole. My dick grew by the inch. She bent her knees and twisted her fingers inside her cunt.
I reached out and moved her close to me. I tightened my hold on her and bent her ass every which way. I kissed her on the hip and down her thigh. She looked down on me and that's when I opened wide. She pulled away but she couldn't get far. Not with this 235 pound brother. I bit her on her ass. She winced in painful pleasure.
“You really are hungry, aren't you?” she asked. “Well eat my pussy, hungry-man.”
“Oh yeah.” I shook her quivering ass.
She popped her finger and licked off her spunk. I just had to shake my head. I laid back on the bed and she slid her bottom over me. She sat her ass on my chest, pubes just inches from my face. She grabbed the wall and then steadied her cunt into my mouth. The taste was serious tang. I licked and swallowed the bitterness. Just washed it down. Her hairs got inside my nose. And then I started plumbing her depths with my tongue. I kept probing, and then I found it. Thick and meaty and juicy. I slurped her flapping pussy lips. Swish!
“Face fuck me, Steve. Fuck my cunt with your mouth,” she said.
She clawed my head. I stretched my tongue as deep as it would go and really started licking out her insides. This chick was the honey, peaches, and the cream. I made her pay with my appetite and drank from her mother fucking pussy.
“Giddy up, cowpoke,” she said, and bopped up and down, swinging her hips around. “Ooo-eee!””
I smacked my lips and munched her cunt. She grabbed my hair and rode me like one of her horses back home. She bucked her delicious cunt all across my face. I grabbed her thighs and held her tight, but it was no use. She fucked my face with that little thing of hers. Her juices flowed down my throat. She got into a quick rhythm. She did that when she was done fucking around and wanted to make herself cum.
Her pussy dragged off my mouth, right past my nose.
“Oh, Steve, fuck, fuck,” she said.
Her big white ass squeezed tight over my mouth. I pulled her down and forced my tongue to that patch of skin separating her cunt from her asshole. She jumped.
“Hey!” she screamed. She damn near blew up. She sat back on my chest. Her body shook and trembled.
“Let me fuck you.”
“Oh, fuck, baby, give me a second,” she said, and lowered her head. She cupped my face with her fingers. She curled her back, and rolled her shoulders. A smile passed across her face. She was quick. She jumped off my soggy, groggy face and spun herself around, quick as a cat. She picked my cock and slurped it into her mouth. She went at it like some wanton machine.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, and spread her ass cheeks to stare at her asshole.
“I know, I'll let you fuck me up the ass, later.”
“No sweat, baby.” I closed her ass cheeks, and squeezed her buttocks. Her lips closed tight around my dick. She bobbed her head. I felt the tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged, but kept on jabbing it in.
“Fuck, I'm sorry baby. I can't fit it all in,” she said.
“Just relax. Don't try too hard.”
She sucked on the knob and sank it comfortable back into her hungry mouth.
“Ugh,” she said. “I'll have to try later. You'll have to teach this no good bitch.” She smacked her own ass.
I laughed. “Okay.”
She relaxed and enjoyed herself with my cock. She mumbled nonsense. She weaved and sucked and lashed me with her tongue. She used the other hand to squeeze and tickle my balls.
I sat back, and kneaded her ass. She groaned and twisted her body. The stronger I massaged her butt cheeks the stronger she sucked my cock.
“Fuck, baby, I'm coming soon.” I told her.
“No, hold on.” She hurried and dropped the dick from her mouth. An early load of cum spilled out, a warning of things to come.
“You have to fuck this country slut in the pussy,” she said.
“Yeah, come on,” I said, and helped her position my cock at her hole. She held it there. I wanted to push her down.
She moved the hair out of her face and rolled her lips under her teeth. It still scared her.
She looked in my eyes. “I love fucking you, Steve,” she said. “You know that, don't you? If all I ever had was your dick...”
She stopped talking.
“You can have me anytime.” I gave her a little thrust. The knob pushed her pussy lips into the center of her cunt.
She puckered her rosy little lips. “I'm willing to do anything,” she said. “Anything for you, Steve.”
She rolled the pulpy labia against my cock. She was slick and wet, but utterly impenetrable. Then, she turned her hips, and her cunt twisted apart, stretched, and opened. She blinked and grinned. I was in. She adjusted her ass. She turned her face left and right and stroked her hair. She was showing me how pretty she was. Pretty as they came, and here she was giving it to me.
Suze pushed her clit against my pubic bone. Ground it in there. I closed my eyes and patted her legs. I got into a little rhythm, just like she liked it. She met my every thrust. She timed me like we'd been doing this forever. I clapped my dark hands against her thighs. Soon she began to jerk her body.
“Ooh.” she said. She lifted her cunt half way along my cock. Shook her head and buried it deep, again. And then she jumped off onto her knees and dropped her head forward. She squeezed my cock with both hands and sucked me hard into her mouth. She was everywhere at once. Before I knew it, she squatting over me and shoved my cock back in.
“Fuck,” she said, grinning in what looked like pain. She pushed her tits up. I grabbed her by the hips. She kneeled. What the hell was she doing? She climbed my cock. She took her cunt to a point where I was just inside it. A draft licked my balls; then a pause; then a quick sudden drop. Slam! She shut her eyes tight.
“Mmmph,” she said.
She repeated this hike, but instead of the violence, she just slid up and down my pole.
Now you know why a woman, white or black, can't quit a black guy. She fell back down, and shuddered like one of those George Romero zombies. She'd cum, again. Her long hair fell in front of her face, covering her eyes. A smile pierced through her sloppy canopy of hair.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank You,” she said.
She fell forward and ran her thin hands down my chest, stomach. She hummed and began swerving cunt motion. Her hands shaped her malleable body. I leaned forward and sucked one of her rounded buds. I bit and sucked her, until I remembered I had to finish this quickie that had gotten out of hand. She leaned back and reached behind her ass to press my scrotum. I knew I was a goner. The shiver ran from my neck down to my ass. I clenched. Load after load filled her cunt. She opened her mouth, caught her breath, and squeezed her ass.
“Fuck!” I said.
I kept my hands on her hips. Her cunt quivered. Maybe it was me.
“Aghh!” I cried and collapsed. I couldn't move for a few seconds. I blinked. I caught my breath. I blinked, again. She giggled.
“You okay, Stevie?”
“Yeah,” I said.
She lifted her body and leisurely stepped off the bed. Her sweet ass and legs took her away. She stood in front of her dresser and grabbed some clothes from a drawer.
Shit. I was drenched. It looked like I'd been pissed on. I lifted my head only to have it fall back. My head reeled.
My wife's voice called from above. “Dinner's ready. Wrap it up and sit at the table.”
“Pants,” I said to Suzie.
She threw me a pair along with some boxers and a rag. I wiped and tossed her the rag. She caught it, wiped her stomach with it, and tossed it into a basket. I looked at her in genuine wonder. How long would she stay. What would happen to us?
“You'll be back tonight?” she asked. She pulled on some sexy, red boy shorts and then some socks.
“Maybe,” I said.
She looked longingly at me. Her eyes pulled me into her. I flashed a quick smile.
“I'll come by,” I said. “I'll have to bring Karen, though. She may start getting a little jealous. She'll want to get herself some, too.”
She nodded. I walked to her, and slipped my hand around her waist and into her panties. I felt her poor, swollen cunt. I nibbled her little ear. I kissed her hot cheek. I pulled on my shirt and watched her get dressed. She put on a loose pair of pajama bottoms that rode into her ass cheeks. I gave her a hug, grabbed her hand and climbed out of the basement with my house-mate, lover, and fellow sex-story scribe.
When I got home from work, I found Karen busy with dinner. I made out with her on the kitchen counter and goosed her inside her skirt. She was naked underneath and I spent some time showing her I appreciated her thoughtfulness. She pulled my dick out and shook me a few times. She let me diddle her for a good while, and then she kicked me out of the kitchen. She said I distracted her.
“Scat!” she said.
Dinner was going to be a while. She had chicken broiling in the oven and a whole bunch of other things popping on the stove.
I ran out of there with the smell of her cunt on my hand, and a hard-on in my pocket. Let me tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be, being a well-hung black man. Just try walking around with an arm in your pants, for a change.
Not that I'm complaining.
I had some time to kill, so I decided to sneak out, and say hi to Suze, my underground friend.
I opened the door to the basement, which was located just outside the kitchen, between the living room and utility closet. I grabbed the rail, and wiped my hand against it going down.
I heard my wife's voice from behind, “Don't be too long. Dinner's almost ready. And ask her if she wants to come join us.”
The steps didn't make a sound. I made sure of that when I installed them. The old ones had been falling apart. The air was earthy and moist, though, even a little drafty. That was my next project, make it homely. Suze would never say a word. It wasn't her way. This was her home, as nice as anything she ever had. She loved it here. She'd been with us for about two weeks.
I was half way down the steps when I saw her. She had her back to me. Mama mia. She wore an old, blue dress shirt I'd given her. The shirt was tied Daisy Duke style, high above her midsection. A pair of low-riding stretched out jeans hung below her wide hips. I followed the curve of her naked spine and stroked my cock. I waited behind a supporting beam, taking in this fleeting intimate moment.
Her ass was nice and big, bigger than most white girls. Her hair fell half way down her back, soft and full bodied. She combed it in front of a tall mirror. She was always brushing her hair. She did it when she watched TV, or sitting out back looking at the evergreens. It was like she flew away from whatever she was doing. She paused, tilted her hip and felt the shape of her stomach. She pushed it out and passed her hand around its swelling curve.
I breathed out.
What a beautiful woman, a white women, I thought, and right under my house. Must be parts in the U.S. that alone gets you run out-of-town, if not worse. Well, fuck that. This is fucking Canada.
I coughed to get her attention.
She turned around.
“Suze, how you doing?” I said. “Hey, Karen wants you to join us for dinner.”
She put down her brush, hiked her pants, and patted her thighs. “Hi, Steve. I missed you, honey. I thought you'd forgotten about me.” She walked toward me. “How was writing?”
“Not bad. Wrote ten pages. Better than some of those literary types with their page a day.” I said.
“You stud, you.” She shook her hair, like she was in a beer commercial. “Did you write about me?”
I locked my hands on her small waist. She snaked her arms around my neck.
“How about you?” I said. “How's the writing coming?”
“You can see for yourself.” She motioned with her head to the desk across the room.
A neat stack of freshly printed pages waited next to the computer.
“You can read them, later,” she said. “Do you mind if we fool around a bit. Maybe a quickie?”
“Ah, princess. It's gonna have to be quick.”
She took my palm with her hand and passed her fingers across my palm. She sniffed it, smiled and licked the inside.
“How's Karen?”
“Fine,” I said. “Haven't you seen her already?”
“Only in the morning, after you left. We fooled around a little bit.”
“Oh, like what?”
“You know girl things.” She twisted and smiled with her thumb in her mouth. Fuck, she was teasing again.
“Baby, I am not in a teasing, mood.” I pulled her close and kissed her on her lips, and spanked her ass. That's all she needed. She crawled over me. I'm a big guy, 215 pounds, and she's fairly small, smaller than my wife, five foot-two, maybe 130 pounds. But don't let that fool you. She's an animal in bed.
I grabbed her two big butt cheeks and picked her off the ground, eye-level to me. She wasted no time, and slashed her tongue through my lips, past my teeth and rubbed my teeth. It felt cold. I knew she was horny when it got like that.
“I missed you,” she said. “Your girls can only eat so much pussy and ass in one day. We've been going crazy for your dick, all day.”
“Yeah?” I pressed my mouth against her smooth throat. She groaned.
“All day,” she said.
“Well, I've been itching to fuck that little twat.”
She got her warm hand into my briefs.
“Fuck,” I said.
She kept on squeezing and yanking my dick around. She looked like a tramp up to no good.
I took off my pants.
She pulled her hands out and rubbed an itch in her crotch, and started unbuttoning hers, She grabbed hold of them and yanked them hard. She grinned. It took some trying, but she got them past her thighs. Her meaty flesh bulged out of their confinement. She shoved and kicked them right off with her feet.
“Let me look at you,” I said.
She raised her hands behind her head and tilted her hips. She was gorgeous, shapely and soft all around. I looked behind her ass. She circled on her toes.
I chuckled.
She untied the knot on her shirt, flicked her fingers and freed her D cup tits. She smiled and swung her tits across her body, like two sacks. I grabbed a swollen nipple and rubbed it between my fingers. She moaned softly and pulled her hair behind her back. She snapped her green panty's elastic.
“This too?” she asked. She wore them low, under her hips and they barely covered her tuft of reddish brown pubes. Not bad for a white girl. Not bad at all.
“You are a tease.” I shook my head. “You know that?”
“I don't tease,” she said. “I do what I promise.”
She gave me a big shove. I went reeling into the unmade bed.
“Sorry,” I said. I put my hands up. “Didn't mean it, baby. Take it easy.”
I sat up on the bed and got undressed. I kept my socks, though. The granite floor was freezing. I looked up at her. Her blue eyes glittered in spite of the dim light in the room. She spread her magnificent legs, that and her tits, that's where her extra fat went to. Truly a black man's dream. A curvy white chick with a thin waist, tight pussy and ass, and a nasty mouth. She slid her index finger into her hole. My dick grew by the inch. She bent her knees and twisted her fingers inside her cunt.
I reached out and moved her close to me. I tightened my hold on her and bent her ass every which way. I kissed her on the hip and down her thigh. She looked down on me and that's when I opened wide. She pulled away but she couldn't get far. Not with this 235 pound brother. I bit her on her ass. She winced in painful pleasure.
“You really are hungry, aren't you?” she asked. “Well eat my pussy, hungry-man.”
“Oh yeah.” I shook her quivering ass.
She popped her finger and licked off her spunk. I just had to shake my head. I laid back on the bed and she slid her bottom over me. She sat her ass on my chest, pubes just inches from my face. She grabbed the wall and then steadied her cunt into my mouth. The taste was serious tang. I licked and swallowed the bitterness. Just washed it down. Her hairs got inside my nose. And then I started plumbing her depths with my tongue. I kept probing, and then I found it. Thick and meaty and juicy. I slurped her flapping pussy lips. Swish!
“Face fuck me, Steve. Fuck my cunt with your mouth,” she said.
She clawed my head. I stretched my tongue as deep as it would go and really started licking out her insides. This chick was the honey, peaches, and the cream. I made her pay with my appetite and drank from her mother fucking pussy.
“Giddy up, cowpoke,” she said, and bopped up and down, swinging her hips around. “Ooo-eee!””
I smacked my lips and munched her cunt. She grabbed my hair and rode me like one of her horses back home. She bucked her delicious cunt all across my face. I grabbed her thighs and held her tight, but it was no use. She fucked my face with that little thing of hers. Her juices flowed down my throat. She got into a quick rhythm. She did that when she was done fucking around and wanted to make herself cum.
Her pussy dragged off my mouth, right past my nose.
“Oh, Steve, fuck, fuck,” she said.
Her big white ass squeezed tight over my mouth. I pulled her down and forced my tongue to that patch of skin separating her cunt from her asshole. She jumped.
“Hey!” she screamed. She damn near blew up. She sat back on my chest. Her body shook and trembled.
“Let me fuck you.”
“Oh, fuck, baby, give me a second,” she said, and lowered her head. She cupped my face with her fingers. She curled her back, and rolled her shoulders. A smile passed across her face. She was quick. She jumped off my soggy, groggy face and spun herself around, quick as a cat. She picked my cock and slurped it into her mouth. She went at it like some wanton machine.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, and spread her ass cheeks to stare at her asshole.
“I know, I'll let you fuck me up the ass, later.”
“No sweat, baby.” I closed her ass cheeks, and squeezed her buttocks. Her lips closed tight around my dick. She bobbed her head. I felt the tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged, but kept on jabbing it in.
“Fuck, I'm sorry baby. I can't fit it all in,” she said.
“Just relax. Don't try too hard.”
She sucked on the knob and sank it comfortable back into her hungry mouth.
“Ugh,” she said. “I'll have to try later. You'll have to teach this no good bitch.” She smacked her own ass.
I laughed. “Okay.”
She relaxed and enjoyed herself with my cock. She mumbled nonsense. She weaved and sucked and lashed me with her tongue. She used the other hand to squeeze and tickle my balls.
I sat back, and kneaded her ass. She groaned and twisted her body. The stronger I massaged her butt cheeks the stronger she sucked my cock.
“Fuck, baby, I'm coming soon.” I told her.
“No, hold on.” She hurried and dropped the dick from her mouth. An early load of cum spilled out, a warning of things to come.
“You have to fuck this country slut in the pussy,” she said.
“Yeah, come on,” I said, and helped her position my cock at her hole. She held it there. I wanted to push her down.
She moved the hair out of her face and rolled her lips under her teeth. It still scared her.
She looked in my eyes. “I love fucking you, Steve,” she said. “You know that, don't you? If all I ever had was your dick...”
She stopped talking.
“You can have me anytime.” I gave her a little thrust. The knob pushed her pussy lips into the center of her cunt.
She puckered her rosy little lips. “I'm willing to do anything,” she said. “Anything for you, Steve.”
She rolled the pulpy labia against my cock. She was slick and wet, but utterly impenetrable. Then, she turned her hips, and her cunt twisted apart, stretched, and opened. She blinked and grinned. I was in. She adjusted her ass. She turned her face left and right and stroked her hair. She was showing me how pretty she was. Pretty as they came, and here she was giving it to me.
Suze pushed her clit against my pubic bone. Ground it in there. I closed my eyes and patted her legs. I got into a little rhythm, just like she liked it. She met my every thrust. She timed me like we'd been doing this forever. I clapped my dark hands against her thighs. Soon she began to jerk her body.
“Ooh.” she said. She lifted her cunt half way along my cock. Shook her head and buried it deep, again. And then she jumped off onto her knees and dropped her head forward. She squeezed my cock with both hands and sucked me hard into her mouth. She was everywhere at once. Before I knew it, she squatting over me and shoved my cock back in.
“Fuck,” she said, grinning in what looked like pain. She pushed her tits up. I grabbed her by the hips. She kneeled. What the hell was she doing? She climbed my cock. She took her cunt to a point where I was just inside it. A draft licked my balls; then a pause; then a quick sudden drop. Slam! She shut her eyes tight.
“Mmmph,” she said.
She repeated this hike, but instead of the violence, she just slid up and down my pole.
Now you know why a woman, white or black, can't quit a black guy. She fell back down, and shuddered like one of those George Romero zombies. She'd cum, again. Her long hair fell in front of her face, covering her eyes. A smile pierced through her sloppy canopy of hair.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank You,” she said.
She fell forward and ran her thin hands down my chest, stomach. She hummed and began swerving cunt motion. Her hands shaped her malleable body. I leaned forward and sucked one of her rounded buds. I bit and sucked her, until I remembered I had to finish this quickie that had gotten out of hand. She leaned back and reached behind her ass to press my scrotum. I knew I was a goner. The shiver ran from my neck down to my ass. I clenched. Load after load filled her cunt. She opened her mouth, caught her breath, and squeezed her ass.
“Fuck!” I said.
I kept my hands on her hips. Her cunt quivered. Maybe it was me.
“Aghh!” I cried and collapsed. I couldn't move for a few seconds. I blinked. I caught my breath. I blinked, again. She giggled.
“You okay, Stevie?”
“Yeah,” I said.
She lifted her body and leisurely stepped off the bed. Her sweet ass and legs took her away. She stood in front of her dresser and grabbed some clothes from a drawer.
Shit. I was drenched. It looked like I'd been pissed on. I lifted my head only to have it fall back. My head reeled.
My wife's voice called from above. “Dinner's ready. Wrap it up and sit at the table.”
“Pants,” I said to Suzie.
She threw me a pair along with some boxers and a rag. I wiped and tossed her the rag. She caught it, wiped her stomach with it, and tossed it into a basket. I looked at her in genuine wonder. How long would she stay. What would happen to us?
“You'll be back tonight?” she asked. She pulled on some sexy, red boy shorts and then some socks.
“Maybe,” I said.
She looked longingly at me. Her eyes pulled me into her. I flashed a quick smile.
“I'll come by,” I said. “I'll have to bring Karen, though. She may start getting a little jealous. She'll want to get herself some, too.”
She nodded. I walked to her, and slipped my hand around her waist and into her panties. I felt her poor, swollen cunt. I nibbled her little ear. I kissed her hot cheek. I pulled on my shirt and watched her get dressed. She put on a loose pair of pajama bottoms that rode into her ass cheeks. I gave her a hug, grabbed her hand and climbed out of the basement with my house-mate, lover, and fellow sex-story scribe.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Story: Suze's Basement Apartment
Karen cooked and got the table ready. I looked around for something to do, while she finished. I had some time, so I decided to sneak out.
I opened the door to the basement, which was located just outside the kitchen, between the living room and utility closet. I quietly walked down the sturdy, wooden steps. They didn't make a sound. The air was earthy and moist, even a little drafty. The dim light took some getting used to. Suze, who lived down here, never said a word. This was her home, as nice as anything she needed. She'd been with us for about two weeks.
She had her back to me. She wore her jeans and an old blue dress shirt I'd given her. The shirt was tied Daisy Duke style. From up above, I caught her white skin and the curve of her spine. Her ass was nice and big, bigger than most white girls. She ran a silver brush down her long, smooth, corn-blond hair. She twisted her waist and smiled. I breathed out. She waved at me.
“Hi, Suze. How's it going?” I said.
What a beautiful woman, rosy face, small mouthed, shapely figure, perfect breasts. Her fine skin, sprinkled with a couple of freckles made her look like a twenty-year-old country bumpkin. I looked forward to my big black dick sinking inside her cunt.
“Hi, Suze,” I said.
She turned. “Hi, Steve. Good day at the office?”
“To hell with that,” I said and unbuttoned my shirt. My muscles were tired and what I needed most was this white woman to suck and fuck me off.
“You need some loving?” she asked.
“Got the time, sweetie?” I said.
“What a silly question.” She smiled. “How much do we have?” she asked. “Isn't it almost dinner?”
“Yep. I got ten minutes,” I told her.
“Quick and good?” she asked.
“Could you?”
A short delay, as she thought it over.
She popped the button on her pants, and dropped them past her thighs and right off her feet. Just as quick, she pulled the shirt over her head. No bra. Her plump tits fell gently above her smooth flat stomach. She had on an old pair of green panties, I'd gotten from upstairs. She wore them low, under her hips. They barely covered her tuft of corn-colored pubic hair. Not bad for a white girl.
I leaped off the steps and ran to her. In my excitement, I knocked her against her dresser. I must've given her the impression I wanted it rough. She shoved me hard enough I spun and fell over onto the bed. She was as strong as a man. One hundred and twenty pounds, five foot-six and dangerous when it came right down to it.
She marched against me.
“Sorry,” I said. I put my hands up. “Didn't mean it, baby.”
“Suck or fuck?” she asked. Her blue eyes glittered in spite of the dim light in the room.
She stood over me, and spread her magnificent white legs astride mine. My dong pulsed under her glare. She slid her index finger into her hole. The odors spread fast, mine and hers. It was tart and musky. It mingled with the wet earth behind the cinder blocks.
“You sure?” she asked. “You really want this? You want to stick that monster cock of yours into my poor innocent cunt?”
“Fuck that, and let me fuck you. Quick. Come on.”
She popped her finger out of her pink hole and licked it off with her tongue. She walked out of her panties. She bent over me and took off my pants and underwear, like she was my mother and I'd just waded through mud.
She grasped my cock and bent over to slurp it into her mouth. She puckered hard. I clenched the bed sheets and grinned.
“Like this?” she asked.
“Like that,” I said. “You're doing good.”
She mumbled nonsense. What did she have to say? She was sucking dick, for God's sake. She bobbled and sucked and lashed me with her tongue. I stuck three fingers inside her cunt. I pushed into her and kneaded her ass with my thumb. She groaned. I didn't interrupt her activities. Just a little something for my hands to do. She pumped her head smooth-like, up and down, up and down. My toes curled, my nuts tightened. We were in for the finish line.
“Suze,” I said, and grinned.
She released the hold she had on my cock. She kissed the knob and rested her small head on my stomach.
“You want to fuck me now, baby?” She cupped my balls with three of her perfectly manicured fingers. She exhaled her warm breath over my cock. The dark salami pulsed.
She moved the hair out of her face and smiled lazily.
“I love fucking you, Steve.”
“I'm married, Suzie. I'm taken. But you can have me anytime I want.”
She puckered her rosy little lips.
“Hey, two minutes,” I said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said.
She looped her leg over me and rolled her cunt expertly onto my cock. She was slick and tight. She turned her face left and right and stroked her long yellow hair. She was showing me how pretty she was.
“Here you go,” I said.
I pumped her with my cock. She adjusted her pressure, speed, and technique for me. She was keyed to my reactions. She knew just what to do. She was an expert fucker.
She changed up with a long climb up my cock. She took me to a height where my cock was just touching her cunt. With my foot long, that was a long way indeed. I felt the hairs running along her pussy brush my shaft. I felt a cool draft; then a pause; then a quick sudden drop. Slam!
“Fuck!” I said.
I kept my hands on her hips. But I didn't try to guide her or anything. She knew how I liked it. Hell, it's why she had a home under my house.
After several more intense thrusts, a wave of tight spasms ran down my cock. I was in for it. I felt it. Damn, I felt it. It seemed like she was sucking me into her guts. Her cunt quivered. Maybe it was me.
“I'm going to make you cum,” she said. “In three. Two.”
Baby.
“One.”
FUCK.
Every time. How'd she do it? How'd she know? How?
I exploded into her. I jacked her off her knees. I squeezed her tits. She bounced into the air like she was one of those soda-bottle rockets. My cum spat out between her legs. She gushed her own liquids from her cunt. We sprayed in opposite directions. She sprang to the floor. Juice ran down her naked leg.
“Aghh!” I cried and collapsed. I couldn't move for a few seconds. I blinked. I caught my breath. I blinked, again She giggled.
“You okay, Stevie?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Shit. I was drenched. It looked like I'd been pissed on.
I thanked her. Well, I smacked her ass and I let her know she did good. What? You want me to give her flowers?
“Anytime,” she said and strutted her ass back to her dresser. She stood in front of it and grabbed some clothes from my drawer.
My head reeled. I slammed my head against the springy old bed.
My wife's voice called from above.
“Pants, please,” I said to Suzie.
She threw me a pair along with some boxers and a rag. We make a mess all the time. You gotta smarten up quick.
I wiped and tossed her the rag. My white little bitch. I was one lucky mother-fucker.
She caught it in her hand and passed it into a basket next to her dresser.
I looked at her in genuine wonder. She looked as fresh and new as the first day I'd gotten her. So shapely and everything so right.
“You'll be back tonight?” she asked. She pulled on some sexy, red boy shorts and then some socks. All hand me downs.
“Maybe,” I said.
She flashed a quick smile. “Thanks,” she said, a little sarcastic.
I walked up to her, and slipped my hand around her waist and into her panties. I felt her swollen cunt. I nibbled her little ear.
“I'll get you some earrings,” I told her.
I kissed her hot cheeks. I let go and lurched my way up the stairs. I turned off the basement light and walked up, into the house. I had to push the door shut.
“I'm ready, honey,” I said. “What's for dinner?”
Suze could do so much more than give the best suck and fuck in the world. I knew that. Maybe she could help the 'wife' with dinner. No, no. I had to leave something for Karen. A place for everyone, everyone in their place. Or something like that.
“How is she?” asked Karen.
“She's fine. You have any more clothes for her?” I asked.
“You and your white-girlfriend,” she said. “You still have time for me, tonight?”
“With Suze or without?”
“I don't know.” She put her finger to her chin, thinking about it.
I waited.
“With,” she said and smiled. She smiled just like my momma. She had beautiful brown skin, just like her.
Why one android when you could afford two? And each one so unique. I needed to get more, maybe a girl. My cock jumped. It thanked me for that thought, the dirty bastard. I laughed and squeezed it a few times through my pants. Hold on, boy.
Dinner first.
I opened the door to the basement, which was located just outside the kitchen, between the living room and utility closet. I quietly walked down the sturdy, wooden steps. They didn't make a sound. The air was earthy and moist, even a little drafty. The dim light took some getting used to. Suze, who lived down here, never said a word. This was her home, as nice as anything she needed. She'd been with us for about two weeks.
She had her back to me. She wore her jeans and an old blue dress shirt I'd given her. The shirt was tied Daisy Duke style. From up above, I caught her white skin and the curve of her spine. Her ass was nice and big, bigger than most white girls. She ran a silver brush down her long, smooth, corn-blond hair. She twisted her waist and smiled. I breathed out. She waved at me.
“Hi, Suze. How's it going?” I said.
What a beautiful woman, rosy face, small mouthed, shapely figure, perfect breasts. Her fine skin, sprinkled with a couple of freckles made her look like a twenty-year-old country bumpkin. I looked forward to my big black dick sinking inside her cunt.
“Hi, Suze,” I said.
She turned. “Hi, Steve. Good day at the office?”
“To hell with that,” I said and unbuttoned my shirt. My muscles were tired and what I needed most was this white woman to suck and fuck me off.
“You need some loving?” she asked.
“Got the time, sweetie?” I said.
“What a silly question.” She smiled. “How much do we have?” she asked. “Isn't it almost dinner?”
“Yep. I got ten minutes,” I told her.
“Quick and good?” she asked.
“Could you?”
A short delay, as she thought it over.
She popped the button on her pants, and dropped them past her thighs and right off her feet. Just as quick, she pulled the shirt over her head. No bra. Her plump tits fell gently above her smooth flat stomach. She had on an old pair of green panties, I'd gotten from upstairs. She wore them low, under her hips. They barely covered her tuft of corn-colored pubic hair. Not bad for a white girl.
I leaped off the steps and ran to her. In my excitement, I knocked her against her dresser. I must've given her the impression I wanted it rough. She shoved me hard enough I spun and fell over onto the bed. She was as strong as a man. One hundred and twenty pounds, five foot-six and dangerous when it came right down to it.
She marched against me.
“Sorry,” I said. I put my hands up. “Didn't mean it, baby.”
“Suck or fuck?” she asked. Her blue eyes glittered in spite of the dim light in the room.
She stood over me, and spread her magnificent white legs astride mine. My dong pulsed under her glare. She slid her index finger into her hole. The odors spread fast, mine and hers. It was tart and musky. It mingled with the wet earth behind the cinder blocks.
“You sure?” she asked. “You really want this? You want to stick that monster cock of yours into my poor innocent cunt?”
“Fuck that, and let me fuck you. Quick. Come on.”
She popped her finger out of her pink hole and licked it off with her tongue. She walked out of her panties. She bent over me and took off my pants and underwear, like she was my mother and I'd just waded through mud.
She grasped my cock and bent over to slurp it into her mouth. She puckered hard. I clenched the bed sheets and grinned.
“Like this?” she asked.
“Like that,” I said. “You're doing good.”
She mumbled nonsense. What did she have to say? She was sucking dick, for God's sake. She bobbled and sucked and lashed me with her tongue. I stuck three fingers inside her cunt. I pushed into her and kneaded her ass with my thumb. She groaned. I didn't interrupt her activities. Just a little something for my hands to do. She pumped her head smooth-like, up and down, up and down. My toes curled, my nuts tightened. We were in for the finish line.
“Suze,” I said, and grinned.
She released the hold she had on my cock. She kissed the knob and rested her small head on my stomach.
“You want to fuck me now, baby?” She cupped my balls with three of her perfectly manicured fingers. She exhaled her warm breath over my cock. The dark salami pulsed.
She moved the hair out of her face and smiled lazily.
“I love fucking you, Steve.”
“I'm married, Suzie. I'm taken. But you can have me anytime I want.”
She puckered her rosy little lips.
“Hey, two minutes,” I said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said.
She looped her leg over me and rolled her cunt expertly onto my cock. She was slick and tight. She turned her face left and right and stroked her long yellow hair. She was showing me how pretty she was.
“Here you go,” I said.
I pumped her with my cock. She adjusted her pressure, speed, and technique for me. She was keyed to my reactions. She knew just what to do. She was an expert fucker.
She changed up with a long climb up my cock. She took me to a height where my cock was just touching her cunt. With my foot long, that was a long way indeed. I felt the hairs running along her pussy brush my shaft. I felt a cool draft; then a pause; then a quick sudden drop. Slam!
“Fuck!” I said.
I kept my hands on her hips. But I didn't try to guide her or anything. She knew how I liked it. Hell, it's why she had a home under my house.
After several more intense thrusts, a wave of tight spasms ran down my cock. I was in for it. I felt it. Damn, I felt it. It seemed like she was sucking me into her guts. Her cunt quivered. Maybe it was me.
“I'm going to make you cum,” she said. “In three. Two.”
Baby.
“One.”
FUCK.
Every time. How'd she do it? How'd she know? How?
I exploded into her. I jacked her off her knees. I squeezed her tits. She bounced into the air like she was one of those soda-bottle rockets. My cum spat out between her legs. She gushed her own liquids from her cunt. We sprayed in opposite directions. She sprang to the floor. Juice ran down her naked leg.
“Aghh!” I cried and collapsed. I couldn't move for a few seconds. I blinked. I caught my breath. I blinked, again She giggled.
“You okay, Stevie?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Shit. I was drenched. It looked like I'd been pissed on.
I thanked her. Well, I smacked her ass and I let her know she did good. What? You want me to give her flowers?
“Anytime,” she said and strutted her ass back to her dresser. She stood in front of it and grabbed some clothes from my drawer.
My head reeled. I slammed my head against the springy old bed.
My wife's voice called from above.
“Pants, please,” I said to Suzie.
She threw me a pair along with some boxers and a rag. We make a mess all the time. You gotta smarten up quick.
I wiped and tossed her the rag. My white little bitch. I was one lucky mother-fucker.
She caught it in her hand and passed it into a basket next to her dresser.
I looked at her in genuine wonder. She looked as fresh and new as the first day I'd gotten her. So shapely and everything so right.
“You'll be back tonight?” she asked. She pulled on some sexy, red boy shorts and then some socks. All hand me downs.
“Maybe,” I said.
She flashed a quick smile. “Thanks,” she said, a little sarcastic.
I walked up to her, and slipped my hand around her waist and into her panties. I felt her swollen cunt. I nibbled her little ear.
“I'll get you some earrings,” I told her.
I kissed her hot cheeks. I let go and lurched my way up the stairs. I turned off the basement light and walked up, into the house. I had to push the door shut.
“I'm ready, honey,” I said. “What's for dinner?”
Suze could do so much more than give the best suck and fuck in the world. I knew that. Maybe she could help the 'wife' with dinner. No, no. I had to leave something for Karen. A place for everyone, everyone in their place. Or something like that.
“How is she?” asked Karen.
“She's fine. You have any more clothes for her?” I asked.
“You and your white-girlfriend,” she said. “You still have time for me, tonight?”
“With Suze or without?”
“I don't know.” She put her finger to her chin, thinking about it.
I waited.
“With,” she said and smiled. She smiled just like my momma. She had beautiful brown skin, just like her.
Why one android when you could afford two? And each one so unique. I needed to get more, maybe a girl. My cock jumped. It thanked me for that thought, the dirty bastard. I laughed and squeezed it a few times through my pants. Hold on, boy.
Dinner first.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Story: Manning the Yard Sale
[Generously edited by CopyCarver from Literotica.]
My wife Susan spent all Friday getting ready for the yard sale. She painted the signs, typed up the Craigslist ad, and alerted her Facebook friends. She has a couple hundred of those, most her age, and a fair number recent mothers or pregnant. I used to give her grief about all the time she spent online, but her network would come in handy for the yard sale.
We both sat in the living room. Susan folded and sorted baby clothes. I watched TV. She had her back to me, and I noticed she'd changed into an old pair of gray, thin, lounge-around pants. No panties. She felt more comfortable walking around like that. Her pert ass, not too big but shapely and compact stood out like a round piece of wood trim, only soft and rubbery.
I got up, put my hands on her waist and went in for a kiss on her neck. She pulled away.
“Come on, Mike, I'm busy.” she said.
“Too busy for me? Come on.” I looked at her.
“What? Are you going to help?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Please, Mike, you wouldn't know where to start.”
I gave up, sat back down, and pretended to watch the commercials.
“I'm going to keep the sentimental stuff,” she said, and stroked her short blond hair away from her face. She's very pretty. She had a committed look to her. I felt bad.
We have two girls, eight and ten, from her previous marriage. She was going to sell their baby clothes. She figured, why wait? We'd held off. We weren't going to have any more kids. We dreamed about a boy. We tried. She tracked her female cycles. Fertility nights loomed as an occasion. Lingerie, oral sex, the works. She brought in marital aids: oils, powders, flavored creams. She went out-of-the-way. Something new every month. Where'd she gotten the idea? Probably the Internet. That's what I thought.
Then a month ago she went to the doctor. The doctor ran his tests. She passed with flying colors. Nature made her to have babies. My semen, though, scored poorly. The stupid idiots swam in circles.
Just like that, the sex dried up. The Honeys, and the Dears, too. I cut her some slack. I felt the disappointment, too. But that wasn't enough. Two weeks ago, my sissy boss called me in. He smiled and offered his apologies, anything he could do. All the usual crap. I lost my job. Company right-sizing.
Shame and inadequacy came to live with us. It seeped in. I got it. I couldn't provide. I'd never father kids of my own. I'd never get the chance to get my wife pregnant, see her change before my eyes, see her get rounder and bigger.
Susan's a nurse. To help with the bills, she started working longer hours at the hospital. She came home late into the evenings, sometimes early morning. She said her line of work called for a greater level of commitment than I could understand.
And now we're having this yard-sale. The girls were visiting with their dad. Susan said this was a good time.
“I remember when Caroline wore this.” she said. Caroline's our youngest daughter.
“She was so adorable, and this one...Oh, I can't get rid of this one.” She wasn't talking to me.
“I want the girls to have these when they have kids of their own,” she continued. I turned off the TV, excused myself, and went into my office. I listlessly read some of my books. I couldn't get anything going, so I turned on the computer and watched porn.
“Mike, do you have any books you want to sell?” she yelled. “ I only have these pregnancy books.”
“No. Nothing. Sorry.” I clicked away my porn folders. I turned around to the hundreds of books piled ceiling-high, all around my office.
“Maybe I'll look tomorrow,” I said. I'd have to sell them, eventually, if I didn't get a job.
I grabbed a bottle of whiskey, blew the dust off a glass, and started my drinking for the weekend. I thought of all tough breaks, and when things would return to normal. Little did I know.
Late into the night, she continued folding and sorting. On my way to the bedroom, I wrapped my arms around her waist and tilted her head up. My lips rubbed across her unresponsive mouth. She planted a quick kiss, and went back to her business.
“Good night, Mike,” she said.
I got into bed and fell asleep before she joined me.
---
Next morning, I woke to the sound of birds and children playing outside. The sun warmed my face. I yawned and turned over. I remembered her coming to bed. I'd put the moves on her, got rebuffed and slunk back. Now, she was gone. I laid in bed, and drifted in and out of sleep. Then I heard Susan speak from just behind the bedroom door.
“Mike, do you know where you keep the big stapler? I'm going to need it to hang the signs,” she said from the living room.
“I'll have to look for it,” I said into the pillow.
“Hurry,” she said. “I have to finish setting up. The yard sale's at nine.”
I hung my head over the bed.
“Can you hang the signs?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Mike. Let's move it. Just do this for me. I wont ask for anything else. You can have all day to yourself. I won't bother you, again.”
“Okay.”
I needed a shower, if I expected to get anything going. Why did I feel so tired? I slid off the bed and trudged into the bathroom. I slapped my hand against the wall in back of the toilet and whipped out my cock. I shook it, and the piss flowed.
I ran the hot water, stripped off my boxers, and got in the tub. I stood underneath the jets for a while, the water slammed into my tired body. I tried not to think. I squeezed a bottle of bath soap into my hands. It was minty and oily. I stood up straight and spat water out my mouth. I grabbed my cock and squeezed it in a tight grip. The bath could wait. I pulled back on my foreskin and let the hot water flow around.
I quickened my speed and turned my head around my neck. I grabbed my balls with my other hand, and squeezed my genitals together. I slowed the pace. Relaxed into it, moved both hands up and down my eight-inch cock. I stroked myself for a few minutes. Then, I felt it rush forward. I felt the familiar start, the shiver, the tingling all over. I clenched my ass and curled my toes. Muscles behind my stomach tightened, and I fell forward a step. Fluid started from deep within; flowed the length of my cock, shuddering nerves.
“Ah.”
Three times. Streams of white ejected into the choppy ankle-deep water. I ran my palm over the purple head. Ecstasy. A final electric shiver jerked my body. I squelched the desire to groan, and, instead, tightened my face and banged the tiled wall.
I stood in that shower for a few more minutes, not washing or anything. I felt the tension flow out of me. It would return, of course, but for now it emptied out with the semen. Things were so different a month ago. I didn't have to cum in the shower.
I dried myself and shook the hair in front of my forehead. I'm forty, going on fifty. I dressed in a pair of jeans, a green t-shirt and sneakers. Then, I went into my office, found my stapler, grabbed the yard sale signs, and walked down a steep hill.
I found the perfect place for the first sign. Anyone driving this way would see it. I pressed my forearm against the tree, and slammed a staple-- WHAP -- right into its bark.
---
When I returned from assignment, Susan was in the process of laying out the merchandise. I looked around, peered inside boxes, underneath tables.
“Don't worry. I'm not selling any of your things,” she said.
I walked by her.
She leaned in. “Mike, I need your help with more boxes.”
“You're kidding. You don't have any more space out here.”
She smiled. “There's more in the bedroom.”
“Okay, but then you're on your own.”
“You can relax, read a book, sit in your office.” She gave me slap on the back.
I found the boxes and pushed them out the door. With nothing else to do, I grabbed a beer and went into my office. I sunk back in my chair, opened a book, flipped on the computer, and did my best to entertain myself. An hour later, around nine, people starting walking up the driveway.
I heard the voices, mostly women, but some husbands and boyfriends, too. My wife sounded cheerful and animated. The yard sale ran right up against my office window. I heard them talk.
How much for this cookie sheet? Five bucks. Will you take one dollar. No. I can sell it for 5. Any boy clothes? No. Just girls. Does this really work? Do you have any tools? Anything you want to get rid of? Anything you want to donate? I'm looking for a drill.
I had a hard time tuning them out. I kept obsessing about Susan selling my tools. What if she thought those were 'ours'? After half an hour of muffled conversations, I went into the kitchen to grab another beer. I counted them. I only had seven to last me until I had a new job. Susan's rules. We didn't have the money, she said and I agreed. But I needed to drink. At my rate, I'd be out by Sunday. And man, Sunday's when you really need it.
I walked out into the yard with my bottle and a book.
My wife turned around. “Mike, come here,” she said. “I need to ask you something. Don't get mad.”
“What?” I asked.
The flat brim of her gardening hat covered her face.
“Mike, you remember Karen from choir?”
“No.”
She cocked her head, hand on her waist. “She invited me to a get together with the girls. It's a last minute thing. I have to go.”
“What about the yard sale?”
“Mike, I don't get out much. You know that. This came up. I'll have to leave in a few minutes.”
“What? How long does the yard sale run?”
“Not too late. Four.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“You can keep anything you earn,” she said.
“How long are you gone?”
“A few hours,” she said. “The rest of day, I don't know. You know how these things go. Maybe we'll go out for dinner, perhaps get some drinks. It's just the girls.” She arched her eyebrows and curled her top lip between her teeth.
“Susan, this is not a good time for that. I don't know how to run a yard sale.”
“It's easy,” she said and smiled.
She showed me the money jar and gave me a few pointers. Keep the money in the house. Let them browse. Don't talk too much.
She went inside. When she came out, for no good reason that I could see, she'd changed her clothes. She put on a tight, form revealing yellow summer dress. I'd never seen her wear that. She'd imposed a moratorium on spending. How'd she buy it, and how'd she keep it hidden?
She rushed into the car, and without another word, drove away.
Crap.
I had a good mind to wrap it up. But then I'd have to deal with angry pregnant women, and with Susan. I refilled my beer and sat out under the shade of a large avocado tree.
It wasn't long before I had my first customer.
A tall brunette rummaged through a rack of clothes at the edge of the driveway. I'd missed her coming over. Probably a neighbor.
She had on a white tank top and a pair of tight butt-cut lemon yellow shorts. They barely contained her ass. I kept looking. She stood a little taller than my wife, not quite so thin, and her legs were fuller. I stared at her muscular, bronzed legs.
Then she turned around. She wore a pair of expensive looking brown sunglasses. She held a hanger with a pair of draped pants next to her red neck.
“How much are these capris?” she asked. Her glossy lips pressed into a hard smirk.
I knew the ones. I looked at her shapely legs and back at her face.
“Those aren't going to fit you,” I said.
She looked at me hard. “They're not for me. They're for my daughter.”
My face pulled back in embarrassment. I looked along the fence for prices. Surely, Susan had written down prices somewhere.
Women's tops and bottoms, five dollars. “They're five,” I said.
She lifted the hanger above her head. “They're a little frayed. I don't know, I'll give you three.”
“I don't know,” I said.
She arched her eyebrows above her glasses.
I rubbed my head and smiled. “Okay, three.”
She gave me a bunch of crumpled bills, and didn't say a thank you or anything, just pranced away. Her ass slammed up and down. Another happy customer. Her sandals shuffled vigorously across the driveway. I heard a door shut, the engine start and a gold plated, late model BMW speed away.
I drank down my whole beer after that.
Pretty soon, I had more customers come over. After my incident with Ms. Capri, most of the women were either pregnant or had young kids. Word must have gotten around. They came by themselves, sometimes with their families or a kid or two. Then they started coming in droves. I don't know. They looked like a herd, full of chatter and constantly moving. Big round happy women.
I peeped behind my book. I admired their bellies, their enlarged breasts. Most of them were a little older, more than thirty. They didn't dress like it, though. If anything, they dressed up, wore more revealing clothes, tops and stretch pants that accentuated their conditions. It was like a parade.
Some of them hung around quite a while. I brought out some lawn chairs I offered them something to eat, graham crackers and water. I was getting the hang of this. The hours went by. The money jar filled with dollars. I sold a lot of our knickknacks, as well as some stuff from Susan's previous life, photo frames, kitchen appliances, things I'd never seen.
This was easier than I thought. Eventually, the time came to shut it down.
Just as I was about to take down the signs and move the remaining merchandise up against the house, I had my last customer.
She must have been in her early twenties. She wore a pair of designer sunglasses and a blue sweat outfit-- in this heat. She was a brunette, petite, and small featured. Her stomach showed a small bump, like a small beach ball. She drifted from table to table. She kept rubbing her stomach and smiling. When she spoke to me, her speech was slow and deliberate.
“Where are the newborn?” She wasn't from around here.
I asked her where she was from.
She smiled and told me she was Armenian. She flitted her tongue against her top teeth when she spoke. She had a smooth curvy face, the slightest roundness under her chin. She was beautiful. I imagined Susan like this. She would have looked just like her, same build, different hair color, but just as trim and slight, like her. Her name was Lucine. I told her it was a pretty name. She smiled a wide unselfconscious smile, full of teeth and pink cheeks.
She built a little pile of clothes. She asked me a few questions. How many girls I had. How long I'd lived here, what my wife was doing. I told her. She half smirked. Shook her head.
Lucine had married a young man from her country. This was her first child. But her husband wasn't around. His mother had died and he'd gone back home. He was supposed to have returned after two weeks, long enough for a service and to spend time with the family. Two weeks turned into two months. She called his mother's home. Emailed him. She hadn't heard a word since he'd left.
I don't know why she chose to tell me all this. I couldn't guess. Maybe she didn't have any friends. Maybe she was all alone.
She bought a small bundle of clothes. She handed me the money. Her fingers rubbed my palm. I looked at her, she smiled. She turned and walked away. Her ass was pert, her legs tight, and a fair amount of baby fat rolled under her legs. My eyes glued to her backside. She looked behind her. She saw that I was watching her. I smiled and nodded. She winked, stuck her ass out, slowed down, and with a few steps, she gave me the best walk I'd ever seen.
She drove away. I walked to the fence and gazed into the end of the street.
“Nice girl, Mike. Do you want to follow her?”
Misty.
“Hi, Misty. A guy can look, can't he?”
She walked from across the street. Misty's my neighbor, also a very good friend of mine.
“Sure, looking's okay,” she said.
Misty's pregnant, with two girls in her belly, as it turned out. She was huge.
“I was wondering when you were coming over,” I said.
She wore a black polyester outfit with thin white stripes that ran down the sides of the jacket and pants. Somehow she'd managed to zip the jacket in front of her stomach. She draped the elastic hem just below her navel.
“You looking for some clothes? We got a few. I can cut you a deal. Good neighbor discount.”
“Got any pants that'll fit me?” She brushed her hair with her hands. Her wavy brown hair fell halfway down her back.
I looked her over. “Maybe,” I said. “How much longer, Misty? When are you done?”
She laid her hands on her stomach and rubbed the sides. “I'm nine months, so any time. It could happen right here in your driveway.”
“Wow. Should you even be walking?”
“I could sit down, if you have a chair.” She walked up to the gate and I noticed she had two black bricks dangling by some wires like dead rats. “Can I ask you something? This should be easy for you.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Thanks, Mike. Hopefully, this won't take long.” She sat down.
She told me about her problems replacing some old fluorescent lights.
“Yeah, you got the right one. You just need to wire them differently. This one's the old style. Have Tim come over. I'll make sure to explain it right.”
I handed her the transformer.
My dull eyes went straight to her tits. Her white shirt bunched and creased obscenely at her large breasts. I followed her legs. They were shapely below her hips, just rounder, fatter. Her legs had gotten thicker around her thighs. Sitting down, her thighs spread out like dough. The rest of her was plump, too. She looked hot and ready.
“My husband can't understand what to do,” she said.
“I'll talk to him. It's not that hard, but I know how awkward these get.”
“You can tell me, Mike. Tim's not home right now. He's going to be out for a while. Probably won't return for another few hours. In the meantime, I have a dark kitchen, and no way to feed me and the baby.” She fluttered her eyes.
I smiled back. “Come inside the house. Yard sale's done. You can make yourself a sandwich. Eat anything you want.”
I pushed open the door. She walked in. Her ass rolled under the tight pants.
“I hope you're not climbing ladders on your own, Misty.”
She didn't answer. She sat down on the nearest sofa seat in the living room. I realized she was doing this work by herself.
I said, “I'll wait for Tim to come back. Misty. I wouldn't feel right if you fell, hurt yourself.”
She smiled, shook her head and once the act was done, she frowned weekly. That's when she started to cry.
“Misty, Misty,” I said. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
She looked down at her stomach, hair in front of her face, and avoided my eyes.
“I'm sorry, Mike. It's nothing you said. I understand. I'm sorry.” She turned and started to get up.
“Misty, wait. I'll do the wiring for you. Just flip off the breaker for the kitchen and I'll be right over.”
She looked at me with streams of water pouring down her red face. She smiled and shook her head. “It's not that.” She looked at me with a pained look.
“This isn't about the lights, Mike. Can I tell you something?” she asked. “I don't know who else to talk to.”
She laid into me about her problems with Tim.
“I shouldn't be saying anything, Mike. I'm just so alone. No one to talk to. What would my girlfriends say? That I was crazy. A man will do these things.” She opened her huge brown eyes at me. Her forehead creased. “He's cheating on me, Mike.”
She paused.
“I'm so sorry, Misty.”
“Can I talk to you, Mike? Do you mind?”
“Go ahead. Get it out.”
“He has another woman. He's visiting her, right now. I know it. I've read some of their emails. He knows that I know. Her name's Heidi. They work together.” She breathed out. “I even think I've met her, shook her hand. She's young, tall, pretty. He'll stay with her all night. He doesn't even excuse himself. Just comes back whenever he feels like it.”
She looked at me for permission to continue. I nodded.
“He's probably fucking that Scandinavian bitch, right now,” she said. “He hasn't touched me in seven months. You think that's right, Mike? What kind of man does that? I'm carrying his baby, for fuck's sake. He doesn't even look at me. He doesn't like how this pregnancy's changed me. He needs someone with a perfect body, young and flawless.”
“I'm sorry, Misty. That's horrible. There's no excuse. A guy has responsibilities.” I tried again. “You're a very beautiful woman.”
She half smiled. “You think so, Mike?”
“Absolutely. It's too bad your husband can't see it.” I pressed her knee with my hand.
“You're sweet,” she said.
“You deserve someone better,” I said.
“No shit.”
She didn't say anything for the longest time. I scooted myself next to her and put my arms around her neck. She pawed my back.
“Thanks, Mike. You don't know how much I needed that.”
Just then my phone rang. I answered. It was Susan. She'd been paged, she told me. She had to go into the hospital. Don't wait up for her, she said. I hung up the phone.
“It was Susan,” I said.
“Mike,” she said. She stared at me, darting her eyes all over my face. She looked like she needed to say something and had a hard time getting it out. “Mike, it's not my place,” she continued. “I just think you'll hate me for it. But I want to be honest with you, and you're such a nice guy.” Her words came slow. “You deserve better.” She pressed my hand.
“What?” I asked.
“Mike, Susan's having an affair. I'm sorry Mike.”
I must've looked like I'd been gutted. I turned and fell on the other end of the couch.
“Mike.” She got up and sat next to me. She searched for my hands. “Mike, you okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you.”
I gazed at her. “It's okay. Thanks for telling me, Misty. It's good to know.”
She groaned and struggled to get down into a squat in front of me. She held my trembling hands in hers.
“I don't believe it,” I said. “How can you be sure, Misty? How do you know? How? When?”
“I've known for about a month. He comes to the house a couple times a week. I see them mostly mid-day, when you were at work. She kissed him outside your door.” She pulled her dark hair away from her face. That gesture reminded me of Susan.
The doctor, the yard sale. Of course she had to go looking for some other man's cock. Of course she'd get herself pregnant by someone else. I'd raise the man's kid. My mind flashed across possibilities.
“Anything else?”
“He's here all the time, during the week. Sometimes she leaves with him. He's dark.” She paused.
“Go on.”
“He's tall, probably in his 20s. Athletic.” her eyes bounced over my face. “He's good looking. Dark.”
“A black guy?”
She nodded. I tossed my head back. She got up and put her hands around my head and pulled me against her stomach. She felt warm and mothering. Her bare leg touched mine.
We talked for a while more. I dropped a few choice epithets about my wife. I had to come up with something. I don't know what I would have done if Misty wasn't pregnant, and I wasn't afraid to upset her.
“Mike, I'm so sorry.”
“I needed to know, Misty. I'm better off knowing,” I said.
She kept looking at me like she had something more. “Mike, if there's anything I could do.” She kneeled on the cushion and held my hand between her legs. She moved her face in front of mine. I had a choice and I kissed her. She grabbed the back of my head. I held her small face. Her lips moved over mine, hungry and biting.
We kissed with her over me until she got tired and fell back on her legs. I lowered my sore neck and looked across at her. She sucked in her lips. It was my turn to smother her. My face crushed against hers and I sucked her lips into mine. She opened her mouth and spoke.
“We shouldn't be doing this,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Right.” She laughed.
I moved my hand around her hip. It was soft and round. I caressed her flesh in my palm. She pulled me closer. We kissed for what seemed like an eternity. Her hand glided across my rough cheek. I ran the tips of my fingers against her stomach. I pressed gently and felt the movement inside her. Our kissing was full of looks. She took my hand and shoved it behind the pants' elastic. I palmed her lower stomach and touched a thin pair of sheer panties. I twisted her slick pubes between my fingers and slid my fingers against her swollen cunt. She oozed wetness. I searched out her mouth with mine, locked lips, and sucked on her tongue.
“Mike, I don't know how long I can last.”
I asked her what she meant.
“You know. Down there. Before I need you to fuck me.”
I laughed at her.
“I'm not kidding,” she said.
She lifted her shirt. Her breasts sagged against her stomach.
I looked on. She squared her shoulders. “They're beautiful,” I said. “Nice, dark-pink tips.” I passed a finger down and across her nipple.
“They were nicer before. Smaller. Firmer. Not so saggy.” She lifted the undersides with her fingers.
“No, these are better.”
She shook her hair. “I like you, Mike. More and more,” she said.
I took a nipple into my mouth.
“Careful,” she said. “I'm sensitive. Every day the feeling gets more intense. The slightest touch sets them off.”
She climbed over me, again, sort of sideways. Her face against the arm rest. She maneuvered her heavy tit into my mouth. I lapped it up.
“Gentle,” she reminded me.
I inhaled her mound and sucked. I got back cries of pleasure. I tasted the trickle of something sweet. Suddenly, milk shot into the back of my throat. I took a deep breath and swallowed. The excess poured out the side of my mouth.
“I'm sorry,” she said, laughing.
I patted her thigh. “It's good.”
She laughed with a touch of embarrassment. She held steady while I drank a few more ounces. I rather enjoyed it. I palmed her belly with my left hand.
She staggered out the words. “Mike. Fuck me. Please.” She sat down next to me.
“Not here. Let's go into the bedroom.”
“I can't wait,” she said. She searched around the room. “Over there by that wall.” She walked to the entryway by my office and leaned forward, “Come over here.”
I walked to her and pressed her backside with my crotch. The outline of her panties showed through her pants. She wiggled her ass. I rubbed her bottom and pulled her pants and green transparent panties just below her hips. Her cunt was dark and hairy. I couldn't see her vagina, nothing but the mat of hair between her legs. She spread her legs and shifted from foot to foot.
“Come behind me,” she said.
I walked down and put my hands on her hips. I pulled the rest of her pants and panties below her knees. My hands moved over her cold dimpled skin. She was fully naked, mounds of flesh, waiting for me to fuck her.
“Hurry,” she said.
I undid my pants and took out my cock. I stepped into her and slid my penis between her two mounds of perfect white flesh. She reached behind herself and pulled my penis into her hole. With a gentle push on my part, she introduced me into her tight clenched pussy. She winced and banged the wall. We both groaned in unison. I grabbed the flesh above her ass and pushed in slowly. She held my arm to control just how deep I went. I did my best to ignore the sharp points of her fingernails digging into my arm. I made slow progress into her vagina. My penis squeaked. She relaxed after a while.
“It feels good. Just like that.”
I fucked her in quick, shallow strokes. She squeezed her vagina in gratitude. One long tight interval and then flashes whenever I slowed my pace.
“That's good,” she said. I started pumping her faster. “Oh god, oh god. Michael, my god. Fuck me harder. Harder.”
She was too much. My heart raced. I came inside of her. My balls gave all they could. I pulled out and gazed down between us. The semen surged out of her red swollen cunt. I didn't know if she realized it or not. She kept humping my dick. I massaged her broad back. I didn't want to disappoint her. I wasn't done yet.
I increased my pace. She lowered her head and pushed her ass as far as it would go. She'd meet me half-way.
“Ah, shit,” she said. “Ah, shit, ah shit, ah shit. I'm cumming, Michael. I'm coming.” She shuddered. Her feet scampered across the floor.
She screamed loud enough to alert the neighbors.
“Oh shit.” She covered her mouth, and laughed. She shut her eyes and got lost in the pleasure that coursed through her body.
I kept on fucking her. I jammed it as strong as I could. Her meaty thighs slapped against mine. I climbed as deep as she'd take me. She pressed herself close to the wall. My chest pushed against her back, now. She turned her face to me and I kissed her open mouth. She grabbed back and pulled my ass into her. She slowed down.
“Stop. No more,” she panted. She clenched her ass and with that we were done. I popped out. She panted and licked her wounds. She rubbed her pussy lips. “We got carried away.”
No kidding.
She turned toward me. She had her hands on her knees. Her tits and stomach hung like some Mayan fertility goddess, which she was. She curled her arms around my neck, slipped me kisses and passed her fingers through my hair.
“Mike, whatever it takes. Whatever. I don't care. I'm leaving that son of a bitch. And your wife's a whore.”
I smiled. “Yeah. I think I know that.”
Misty washed up. I watched her get dressed. I helped with her socks, pants, and shoes. We hugged. We told each other we'd do this again soon. I made out with her on the sofa. We kissed lazily, and drank each others spit like high-school kids. She was tired, she told me. She had to go home, take a bath, and fall asleep.
I saw her out the door. It was dark outside. She unlatched the gate, and walked out across the street. She disappeared behind a tree. A moment later she turned on her front lights.
I closed my door and took inventory. The house felt cavernous and empty. This was not the end. Nothing like it. Things like this never end easy. This was a far cry from a one-night stand. This didn't end, not tonight. I'd dug myself a hole. The cunt's a trap. A cheating wife, an affair with a pregnant neighbor. This was a screwed up place to be. Call it what you want. I say, I felt fear behind my skull.
I could've gotten a divorce, walked away from Susan and our kids. But I didn't. That was like pulling out the veins in my arms. I had to stay. I had to deal with the situation. I had two women. I'd fuck Misty, next chance I got, and I would love it. Then there was my wife. She had it coming, too. My heart filled with rage. I wanted to fuck her more than ever.
My wife Susan spent all Friday getting ready for the yard sale. She painted the signs, typed up the Craigslist ad, and alerted her Facebook friends. She has a couple hundred of those, most her age, and a fair number recent mothers or pregnant. I used to give her grief about all the time she spent online, but her network would come in handy for the yard sale.
We both sat in the living room. Susan folded and sorted baby clothes. I watched TV. She had her back to me, and I noticed she'd changed into an old pair of gray, thin, lounge-around pants. No panties. She felt more comfortable walking around like that. Her pert ass, not too big but shapely and compact stood out like a round piece of wood trim, only soft and rubbery.
I got up, put my hands on her waist and went in for a kiss on her neck. She pulled away.
“Come on, Mike, I'm busy.” she said.
“Too busy for me? Come on.” I looked at her.
“What? Are you going to help?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Please, Mike, you wouldn't know where to start.”
I gave up, sat back down, and pretended to watch the commercials.
“I'm going to keep the sentimental stuff,” she said, and stroked her short blond hair away from her face. She's very pretty. She had a committed look to her. I felt bad.
We have two girls, eight and ten, from her previous marriage. She was going to sell their baby clothes. She figured, why wait? We'd held off. We weren't going to have any more kids. We dreamed about a boy. We tried. She tracked her female cycles. Fertility nights loomed as an occasion. Lingerie, oral sex, the works. She brought in marital aids: oils, powders, flavored creams. She went out-of-the-way. Something new every month. Where'd she gotten the idea? Probably the Internet. That's what I thought.
Then a month ago she went to the doctor. The doctor ran his tests. She passed with flying colors. Nature made her to have babies. My semen, though, scored poorly. The stupid idiots swam in circles.
Just like that, the sex dried up. The Honeys, and the Dears, too. I cut her some slack. I felt the disappointment, too. But that wasn't enough. Two weeks ago, my sissy boss called me in. He smiled and offered his apologies, anything he could do. All the usual crap. I lost my job. Company right-sizing.
Shame and inadequacy came to live with us. It seeped in. I got it. I couldn't provide. I'd never father kids of my own. I'd never get the chance to get my wife pregnant, see her change before my eyes, see her get rounder and bigger.
Susan's a nurse. To help with the bills, she started working longer hours at the hospital. She came home late into the evenings, sometimes early morning. She said her line of work called for a greater level of commitment than I could understand.
And now we're having this yard-sale. The girls were visiting with their dad. Susan said this was a good time.
“I remember when Caroline wore this.” she said. Caroline's our youngest daughter.
“She was so adorable, and this one...Oh, I can't get rid of this one.” She wasn't talking to me.
“I want the girls to have these when they have kids of their own,” she continued. I turned off the TV, excused myself, and went into my office. I listlessly read some of my books. I couldn't get anything going, so I turned on the computer and watched porn.
“Mike, do you have any books you want to sell?” she yelled. “ I only have these pregnancy books.”
“No. Nothing. Sorry.” I clicked away my porn folders. I turned around to the hundreds of books piled ceiling-high, all around my office.
“Maybe I'll look tomorrow,” I said. I'd have to sell them, eventually, if I didn't get a job.
I grabbed a bottle of whiskey, blew the dust off a glass, and started my drinking for the weekend. I thought of all tough breaks, and when things would return to normal. Little did I know.
Late into the night, she continued folding and sorting. On my way to the bedroom, I wrapped my arms around her waist and tilted her head up. My lips rubbed across her unresponsive mouth. She planted a quick kiss, and went back to her business.
“Good night, Mike,” she said.
I got into bed and fell asleep before she joined me.
---
Next morning, I woke to the sound of birds and children playing outside. The sun warmed my face. I yawned and turned over. I remembered her coming to bed. I'd put the moves on her, got rebuffed and slunk back. Now, she was gone. I laid in bed, and drifted in and out of sleep. Then I heard Susan speak from just behind the bedroom door.
“Mike, do you know where you keep the big stapler? I'm going to need it to hang the signs,” she said from the living room.
“I'll have to look for it,” I said into the pillow.
“Hurry,” she said. “I have to finish setting up. The yard sale's at nine.”
I hung my head over the bed.
“Can you hang the signs?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Mike. Let's move it. Just do this for me. I wont ask for anything else. You can have all day to yourself. I won't bother you, again.”
“Okay.”
I needed a shower, if I expected to get anything going. Why did I feel so tired? I slid off the bed and trudged into the bathroom. I slapped my hand against the wall in back of the toilet and whipped out my cock. I shook it, and the piss flowed.
I ran the hot water, stripped off my boxers, and got in the tub. I stood underneath the jets for a while, the water slammed into my tired body. I tried not to think. I squeezed a bottle of bath soap into my hands. It was minty and oily. I stood up straight and spat water out my mouth. I grabbed my cock and squeezed it in a tight grip. The bath could wait. I pulled back on my foreskin and let the hot water flow around.
I quickened my speed and turned my head around my neck. I grabbed my balls with my other hand, and squeezed my genitals together. I slowed the pace. Relaxed into it, moved both hands up and down my eight-inch cock. I stroked myself for a few minutes. Then, I felt it rush forward. I felt the familiar start, the shiver, the tingling all over. I clenched my ass and curled my toes. Muscles behind my stomach tightened, and I fell forward a step. Fluid started from deep within; flowed the length of my cock, shuddering nerves.
“Ah.”
Three times. Streams of white ejected into the choppy ankle-deep water. I ran my palm over the purple head. Ecstasy. A final electric shiver jerked my body. I squelched the desire to groan, and, instead, tightened my face and banged the tiled wall.
I stood in that shower for a few more minutes, not washing or anything. I felt the tension flow out of me. It would return, of course, but for now it emptied out with the semen. Things were so different a month ago. I didn't have to cum in the shower.
I dried myself and shook the hair in front of my forehead. I'm forty, going on fifty. I dressed in a pair of jeans, a green t-shirt and sneakers. Then, I went into my office, found my stapler, grabbed the yard sale signs, and walked down a steep hill.
I found the perfect place for the first sign. Anyone driving this way would see it. I pressed my forearm against the tree, and slammed a staple-- WHAP -- right into its bark.
---
When I returned from assignment, Susan was in the process of laying out the merchandise. I looked around, peered inside boxes, underneath tables.
“Don't worry. I'm not selling any of your things,” she said.
I walked by her.
She leaned in. “Mike, I need your help with more boxes.”
“You're kidding. You don't have any more space out here.”
She smiled. “There's more in the bedroom.”
“Okay, but then you're on your own.”
“You can relax, read a book, sit in your office.” She gave me slap on the back.
I found the boxes and pushed them out the door. With nothing else to do, I grabbed a beer and went into my office. I sunk back in my chair, opened a book, flipped on the computer, and did my best to entertain myself. An hour later, around nine, people starting walking up the driveway.
I heard the voices, mostly women, but some husbands and boyfriends, too. My wife sounded cheerful and animated. The yard sale ran right up against my office window. I heard them talk.
How much for this cookie sheet? Five bucks. Will you take one dollar. No. I can sell it for 5. Any boy clothes? No. Just girls. Does this really work? Do you have any tools? Anything you want to get rid of? Anything you want to donate? I'm looking for a drill.
I had a hard time tuning them out. I kept obsessing about Susan selling my tools. What if she thought those were 'ours'? After half an hour of muffled conversations, I went into the kitchen to grab another beer. I counted them. I only had seven to last me until I had a new job. Susan's rules. We didn't have the money, she said and I agreed. But I needed to drink. At my rate, I'd be out by Sunday. And man, Sunday's when you really need it.
I walked out into the yard with my bottle and a book.
My wife turned around. “Mike, come here,” she said. “I need to ask you something. Don't get mad.”
“What?” I asked.
The flat brim of her gardening hat covered her face.
“Mike, you remember Karen from choir?”
“No.”
She cocked her head, hand on her waist. “She invited me to a get together with the girls. It's a last minute thing. I have to go.”
“What about the yard sale?”
“Mike, I don't get out much. You know that. This came up. I'll have to leave in a few minutes.”
“What? How long does the yard sale run?”
“Not too late. Four.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“You can keep anything you earn,” she said.
“How long are you gone?”
“A few hours,” she said. “The rest of day, I don't know. You know how these things go. Maybe we'll go out for dinner, perhaps get some drinks. It's just the girls.” She arched her eyebrows and curled her top lip between her teeth.
“Susan, this is not a good time for that. I don't know how to run a yard sale.”
“It's easy,” she said and smiled.
She showed me the money jar and gave me a few pointers. Keep the money in the house. Let them browse. Don't talk too much.
She went inside. When she came out, for no good reason that I could see, she'd changed her clothes. She put on a tight, form revealing yellow summer dress. I'd never seen her wear that. She'd imposed a moratorium on spending. How'd she buy it, and how'd she keep it hidden?
She rushed into the car, and without another word, drove away.
Crap.
I had a good mind to wrap it up. But then I'd have to deal with angry pregnant women, and with Susan. I refilled my beer and sat out under the shade of a large avocado tree.
It wasn't long before I had my first customer.
A tall brunette rummaged through a rack of clothes at the edge of the driveway. I'd missed her coming over. Probably a neighbor.
She had on a white tank top and a pair of tight butt-cut lemon yellow shorts. They barely contained her ass. I kept looking. She stood a little taller than my wife, not quite so thin, and her legs were fuller. I stared at her muscular, bronzed legs.
Then she turned around. She wore a pair of expensive looking brown sunglasses. She held a hanger with a pair of draped pants next to her red neck.
“How much are these capris?” she asked. Her glossy lips pressed into a hard smirk.
I knew the ones. I looked at her shapely legs and back at her face.
“Those aren't going to fit you,” I said.
She looked at me hard. “They're not for me. They're for my daughter.”
My face pulled back in embarrassment. I looked along the fence for prices. Surely, Susan had written down prices somewhere.
Women's tops and bottoms, five dollars. “They're five,” I said.
She lifted the hanger above her head. “They're a little frayed. I don't know, I'll give you three.”
“I don't know,” I said.
She arched her eyebrows above her glasses.
I rubbed my head and smiled. “Okay, three.”
She gave me a bunch of crumpled bills, and didn't say a thank you or anything, just pranced away. Her ass slammed up and down. Another happy customer. Her sandals shuffled vigorously across the driveway. I heard a door shut, the engine start and a gold plated, late model BMW speed away.
I drank down my whole beer after that.
Pretty soon, I had more customers come over. After my incident with Ms. Capri, most of the women were either pregnant or had young kids. Word must have gotten around. They came by themselves, sometimes with their families or a kid or two. Then they started coming in droves. I don't know. They looked like a herd, full of chatter and constantly moving. Big round happy women.
I peeped behind my book. I admired their bellies, their enlarged breasts. Most of them were a little older, more than thirty. They didn't dress like it, though. If anything, they dressed up, wore more revealing clothes, tops and stretch pants that accentuated their conditions. It was like a parade.
Some of them hung around quite a while. I brought out some lawn chairs I offered them something to eat, graham crackers and water. I was getting the hang of this. The hours went by. The money jar filled with dollars. I sold a lot of our knickknacks, as well as some stuff from Susan's previous life, photo frames, kitchen appliances, things I'd never seen.
This was easier than I thought. Eventually, the time came to shut it down.
Just as I was about to take down the signs and move the remaining merchandise up against the house, I had my last customer.
She must have been in her early twenties. She wore a pair of designer sunglasses and a blue sweat outfit-- in this heat. She was a brunette, petite, and small featured. Her stomach showed a small bump, like a small beach ball. She drifted from table to table. She kept rubbing her stomach and smiling. When she spoke to me, her speech was slow and deliberate.
“Where are the newborn?” She wasn't from around here.
I asked her where she was from.
She smiled and told me she was Armenian. She flitted her tongue against her top teeth when she spoke. She had a smooth curvy face, the slightest roundness under her chin. She was beautiful. I imagined Susan like this. She would have looked just like her, same build, different hair color, but just as trim and slight, like her. Her name was Lucine. I told her it was a pretty name. She smiled a wide unselfconscious smile, full of teeth and pink cheeks.
She built a little pile of clothes. She asked me a few questions. How many girls I had. How long I'd lived here, what my wife was doing. I told her. She half smirked. Shook her head.
Lucine had married a young man from her country. This was her first child. But her husband wasn't around. His mother had died and he'd gone back home. He was supposed to have returned after two weeks, long enough for a service and to spend time with the family. Two weeks turned into two months. She called his mother's home. Emailed him. She hadn't heard a word since he'd left.
I don't know why she chose to tell me all this. I couldn't guess. Maybe she didn't have any friends. Maybe she was all alone.
She bought a small bundle of clothes. She handed me the money. Her fingers rubbed my palm. I looked at her, she smiled. She turned and walked away. Her ass was pert, her legs tight, and a fair amount of baby fat rolled under her legs. My eyes glued to her backside. She looked behind her. She saw that I was watching her. I smiled and nodded. She winked, stuck her ass out, slowed down, and with a few steps, she gave me the best walk I'd ever seen.
She drove away. I walked to the fence and gazed into the end of the street.
“Nice girl, Mike. Do you want to follow her?”
Misty.
“Hi, Misty. A guy can look, can't he?”
She walked from across the street. Misty's my neighbor, also a very good friend of mine.
“Sure, looking's okay,” she said.
Misty's pregnant, with two girls in her belly, as it turned out. She was huge.
“I was wondering when you were coming over,” I said.
She wore a black polyester outfit with thin white stripes that ran down the sides of the jacket and pants. Somehow she'd managed to zip the jacket in front of her stomach. She draped the elastic hem just below her navel.
“You looking for some clothes? We got a few. I can cut you a deal. Good neighbor discount.”
“Got any pants that'll fit me?” She brushed her hair with her hands. Her wavy brown hair fell halfway down her back.
I looked her over. “Maybe,” I said. “How much longer, Misty? When are you done?”
She laid her hands on her stomach and rubbed the sides. “I'm nine months, so any time. It could happen right here in your driveway.”
“Wow. Should you even be walking?”
“I could sit down, if you have a chair.” She walked up to the gate and I noticed she had two black bricks dangling by some wires like dead rats. “Can I ask you something? This should be easy for you.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Thanks, Mike. Hopefully, this won't take long.” She sat down.
She told me about her problems replacing some old fluorescent lights.
“Yeah, you got the right one. You just need to wire them differently. This one's the old style. Have Tim come over. I'll make sure to explain it right.”
I handed her the transformer.
My dull eyes went straight to her tits. Her white shirt bunched and creased obscenely at her large breasts. I followed her legs. They were shapely below her hips, just rounder, fatter. Her legs had gotten thicker around her thighs. Sitting down, her thighs spread out like dough. The rest of her was plump, too. She looked hot and ready.
“My husband can't understand what to do,” she said.
“I'll talk to him. It's not that hard, but I know how awkward these get.”
“You can tell me, Mike. Tim's not home right now. He's going to be out for a while. Probably won't return for another few hours. In the meantime, I have a dark kitchen, and no way to feed me and the baby.” She fluttered her eyes.
I smiled back. “Come inside the house. Yard sale's done. You can make yourself a sandwich. Eat anything you want.”
I pushed open the door. She walked in. Her ass rolled under the tight pants.
“I hope you're not climbing ladders on your own, Misty.”
She didn't answer. She sat down on the nearest sofa seat in the living room. I realized she was doing this work by herself.
I said, “I'll wait for Tim to come back. Misty. I wouldn't feel right if you fell, hurt yourself.”
She smiled, shook her head and once the act was done, she frowned weekly. That's when she started to cry.
“Misty, Misty,” I said. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
She looked down at her stomach, hair in front of her face, and avoided my eyes.
“I'm sorry, Mike. It's nothing you said. I understand. I'm sorry.” She turned and started to get up.
“Misty, wait. I'll do the wiring for you. Just flip off the breaker for the kitchen and I'll be right over.”
She looked at me with streams of water pouring down her red face. She smiled and shook her head. “It's not that.” She looked at me with a pained look.
“This isn't about the lights, Mike. Can I tell you something?” she asked. “I don't know who else to talk to.”
She laid into me about her problems with Tim.
“I shouldn't be saying anything, Mike. I'm just so alone. No one to talk to. What would my girlfriends say? That I was crazy. A man will do these things.” She opened her huge brown eyes at me. Her forehead creased. “He's cheating on me, Mike.”
She paused.
“I'm so sorry, Misty.”
“Can I talk to you, Mike? Do you mind?”
“Go ahead. Get it out.”
“He has another woman. He's visiting her, right now. I know it. I've read some of their emails. He knows that I know. Her name's Heidi. They work together.” She breathed out. “I even think I've met her, shook her hand. She's young, tall, pretty. He'll stay with her all night. He doesn't even excuse himself. Just comes back whenever he feels like it.”
She looked at me for permission to continue. I nodded.
“He's probably fucking that Scandinavian bitch, right now,” she said. “He hasn't touched me in seven months. You think that's right, Mike? What kind of man does that? I'm carrying his baby, for fuck's sake. He doesn't even look at me. He doesn't like how this pregnancy's changed me. He needs someone with a perfect body, young and flawless.”
“I'm sorry, Misty. That's horrible. There's no excuse. A guy has responsibilities.” I tried again. “You're a very beautiful woman.”
She half smiled. “You think so, Mike?”
“Absolutely. It's too bad your husband can't see it.” I pressed her knee with my hand.
“You're sweet,” she said.
“You deserve someone better,” I said.
“No shit.”
She didn't say anything for the longest time. I scooted myself next to her and put my arms around her neck. She pawed my back.
“Thanks, Mike. You don't know how much I needed that.”
Just then my phone rang. I answered. It was Susan. She'd been paged, she told me. She had to go into the hospital. Don't wait up for her, she said. I hung up the phone.
“It was Susan,” I said.
“Mike,” she said. She stared at me, darting her eyes all over my face. She looked like she needed to say something and had a hard time getting it out. “Mike, it's not my place,” she continued. “I just think you'll hate me for it. But I want to be honest with you, and you're such a nice guy.” Her words came slow. “You deserve better.” She pressed my hand.
“What?” I asked.
“Mike, Susan's having an affair. I'm sorry Mike.”
I must've looked like I'd been gutted. I turned and fell on the other end of the couch.
“Mike.” She got up and sat next to me. She searched for my hands. “Mike, you okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you.”
I gazed at her. “It's okay. Thanks for telling me, Misty. It's good to know.”
She groaned and struggled to get down into a squat in front of me. She held my trembling hands in hers.
“I don't believe it,” I said. “How can you be sure, Misty? How do you know? How? When?”
“I've known for about a month. He comes to the house a couple times a week. I see them mostly mid-day, when you were at work. She kissed him outside your door.” She pulled her dark hair away from her face. That gesture reminded me of Susan.
The doctor, the yard sale. Of course she had to go looking for some other man's cock. Of course she'd get herself pregnant by someone else. I'd raise the man's kid. My mind flashed across possibilities.
“Anything else?”
“He's here all the time, during the week. Sometimes she leaves with him. He's dark.” She paused.
“Go on.”
“He's tall, probably in his 20s. Athletic.” her eyes bounced over my face. “He's good looking. Dark.”
“A black guy?”
She nodded. I tossed my head back. She got up and put her hands around my head and pulled me against her stomach. She felt warm and mothering. Her bare leg touched mine.
We talked for a while more. I dropped a few choice epithets about my wife. I had to come up with something. I don't know what I would have done if Misty wasn't pregnant, and I wasn't afraid to upset her.
“Mike, I'm so sorry.”
“I needed to know, Misty. I'm better off knowing,” I said.
She kept looking at me like she had something more. “Mike, if there's anything I could do.” She kneeled on the cushion and held my hand between her legs. She moved her face in front of mine. I had a choice and I kissed her. She grabbed the back of my head. I held her small face. Her lips moved over mine, hungry and biting.
We kissed with her over me until she got tired and fell back on her legs. I lowered my sore neck and looked across at her. She sucked in her lips. It was my turn to smother her. My face crushed against hers and I sucked her lips into mine. She opened her mouth and spoke.
“We shouldn't be doing this,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Right.” She laughed.
I moved my hand around her hip. It was soft and round. I caressed her flesh in my palm. She pulled me closer. We kissed for what seemed like an eternity. Her hand glided across my rough cheek. I ran the tips of my fingers against her stomach. I pressed gently and felt the movement inside her. Our kissing was full of looks. She took my hand and shoved it behind the pants' elastic. I palmed her lower stomach and touched a thin pair of sheer panties. I twisted her slick pubes between my fingers and slid my fingers against her swollen cunt. She oozed wetness. I searched out her mouth with mine, locked lips, and sucked on her tongue.
“Mike, I don't know how long I can last.”
I asked her what she meant.
“You know. Down there. Before I need you to fuck me.”
I laughed at her.
“I'm not kidding,” she said.
She lifted her shirt. Her breasts sagged against her stomach.
I looked on. She squared her shoulders. “They're beautiful,” I said. “Nice, dark-pink tips.” I passed a finger down and across her nipple.
“They were nicer before. Smaller. Firmer. Not so saggy.” She lifted the undersides with her fingers.
“No, these are better.”
She shook her hair. “I like you, Mike. More and more,” she said.
I took a nipple into my mouth.
“Careful,” she said. “I'm sensitive. Every day the feeling gets more intense. The slightest touch sets them off.”
She climbed over me, again, sort of sideways. Her face against the arm rest. She maneuvered her heavy tit into my mouth. I lapped it up.
“Gentle,” she reminded me.
I inhaled her mound and sucked. I got back cries of pleasure. I tasted the trickle of something sweet. Suddenly, milk shot into the back of my throat. I took a deep breath and swallowed. The excess poured out the side of my mouth.
“I'm sorry,” she said, laughing.
I patted her thigh. “It's good.”
She laughed with a touch of embarrassment. She held steady while I drank a few more ounces. I rather enjoyed it. I palmed her belly with my left hand.
She staggered out the words. “Mike. Fuck me. Please.” She sat down next to me.
“Not here. Let's go into the bedroom.”
“I can't wait,” she said. She searched around the room. “Over there by that wall.” She walked to the entryway by my office and leaned forward, “Come over here.”
I walked to her and pressed her backside with my crotch. The outline of her panties showed through her pants. She wiggled her ass. I rubbed her bottom and pulled her pants and green transparent panties just below her hips. Her cunt was dark and hairy. I couldn't see her vagina, nothing but the mat of hair between her legs. She spread her legs and shifted from foot to foot.
“Come behind me,” she said.
I walked down and put my hands on her hips. I pulled the rest of her pants and panties below her knees. My hands moved over her cold dimpled skin. She was fully naked, mounds of flesh, waiting for me to fuck her.
“Hurry,” she said.
I undid my pants and took out my cock. I stepped into her and slid my penis between her two mounds of perfect white flesh. She reached behind herself and pulled my penis into her hole. With a gentle push on my part, she introduced me into her tight clenched pussy. She winced and banged the wall. We both groaned in unison. I grabbed the flesh above her ass and pushed in slowly. She held my arm to control just how deep I went. I did my best to ignore the sharp points of her fingernails digging into my arm. I made slow progress into her vagina. My penis squeaked. She relaxed after a while.
“It feels good. Just like that.”
I fucked her in quick, shallow strokes. She squeezed her vagina in gratitude. One long tight interval and then flashes whenever I slowed my pace.
“That's good,” she said. I started pumping her faster. “Oh god, oh god. Michael, my god. Fuck me harder. Harder.”
She was too much. My heart raced. I came inside of her. My balls gave all they could. I pulled out and gazed down between us. The semen surged out of her red swollen cunt. I didn't know if she realized it or not. She kept humping my dick. I massaged her broad back. I didn't want to disappoint her. I wasn't done yet.
I increased my pace. She lowered her head and pushed her ass as far as it would go. She'd meet me half-way.
“Ah, shit,” she said. “Ah, shit, ah shit, ah shit. I'm cumming, Michael. I'm coming.” She shuddered. Her feet scampered across the floor.
She screamed loud enough to alert the neighbors.
“Oh shit.” She covered her mouth, and laughed. She shut her eyes and got lost in the pleasure that coursed through her body.
I kept on fucking her. I jammed it as strong as I could. Her meaty thighs slapped against mine. I climbed as deep as she'd take me. She pressed herself close to the wall. My chest pushed against her back, now. She turned her face to me and I kissed her open mouth. She grabbed back and pulled my ass into her. She slowed down.
“Stop. No more,” she panted. She clenched her ass and with that we were done. I popped out. She panted and licked her wounds. She rubbed her pussy lips. “We got carried away.”
No kidding.
She turned toward me. She had her hands on her knees. Her tits and stomach hung like some Mayan fertility goddess, which she was. She curled her arms around my neck, slipped me kisses and passed her fingers through my hair.
“Mike, whatever it takes. Whatever. I don't care. I'm leaving that son of a bitch. And your wife's a whore.”
I smiled. “Yeah. I think I know that.”
Misty washed up. I watched her get dressed. I helped with her socks, pants, and shoes. We hugged. We told each other we'd do this again soon. I made out with her on the sofa. We kissed lazily, and drank each others spit like high-school kids. She was tired, she told me. She had to go home, take a bath, and fall asleep.
I saw her out the door. It was dark outside. She unlatched the gate, and walked out across the street. She disappeared behind a tree. A moment later she turned on her front lights.
I closed my door and took inventory. The house felt cavernous and empty. This was not the end. Nothing like it. Things like this never end easy. This was a far cry from a one-night stand. This didn't end, not tonight. I'd dug myself a hole. The cunt's a trap. A cheating wife, an affair with a pregnant neighbor. This was a screwed up place to be. Call it what you want. I say, I felt fear behind my skull.
I could've gotten a divorce, walked away from Susan and our kids. But I didn't. That was like pulling out the veins in my arms. I had to stay. I had to deal with the situation. I had two women. I'd fuck Misty, next chance I got, and I would love it. Then there was my wife. She had it coming, too. My heart filled with rage. I wanted to fuck her more than ever.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Note: About Tina
I'm working on this story again. I think I can make it work. Famous last words. Check out the story for all the latest.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Message: Editing and Publishing
After days of frantic writing, I want to publish as soon as possible.
I also want to maintain quality. I'm finding out this is not workable with how I've been working. Its kills me when I find a mistake that could've been avoided. It trips the reader, and throws her out of the story.
I've decided I need to do better. My readers deserve better.
Starting with my next story, I'm going to first trial run the story on my blog, read it, then move to Lush Stories on day 2, Storiesonline on day 3, Literotica on day 4, and finally, Usenet on day 5. The sites are ordered by the increasing difficulty of making updates.
Hopefully this makes for fewer dumb mistakes and improves the experience for my readers.
You deserve my best.
I also want to maintain quality. I'm finding out this is not workable with how I've been working. Its kills me when I find a mistake that could've been avoided. It trips the reader, and throws her out of the story.
I've decided I need to do better. My readers deserve better.
Starting with my next story, I'm going to first trial run the story on my blog, read it, then move to Lush Stories on day 2, Storiesonline on day 3, Literotica on day 4, and finally, Usenet on day 5. The sites are ordered by the increasing difficulty of making updates.
Hopefully this makes for fewer dumb mistakes and improves the experience for my readers.
You deserve my best.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Note: At the End
This was based on a time after I graduated college, contacted an older woman and...
I'm trying to push my storytelling, make it longer, more intense by starting slow and building.
I'm trying to push my storytelling, make it longer, more intense by starting slow and building.
Story: At the End
After college graduation, I decided I was going to Portland. I didn't have a job lined up, but I was going. That summer, I worked my final campus job and logged plenty of overtime. Everyone told me I needed more money. I cut back my expenses, and ate Burger King for lunch and dinner. I even cut out the beers. But it was still not enough. I was paying too much in rent.
With the help of my boss, who knew everyone in town, I found a place to house sit. The house, a green and white Colonial home, was located in an affluent part of town. It had a full front and back yard, plenty of trees, and a screen covered patio. I met the owners, an elderly couple that had been together for half a century. They traveled every year. This summer, it was a month-long trip to Europe.
They got to know me a little, and then they left. My job was to rake, mow the lawn and water the plants. Aside from two hours every week, I basically had nothing to do but read and jackoff. That's when I started to go a little nuts.
At my job, I looked at every woman with desperate desire. Didn't matter if she was old and wrinkled, or a hundred pounds overweight. My friends were gone, my ex was gone, my family was 3,000 miles away. I was one screwed up son-of-a-bitch. I have a feeling my coworkers recognized the deterioration. The poor guy's a zombie, neither dead, nor alive, graduated but not gone. Ignore him. He looks at all the women like that.
The masturbation only made the loneliness worse. In the evening I returned to an empty house. I'd bring out my magazines, and, standing up or lying down, I'd stroke myself into a lull. The hours vanished. I began to worry about my pathetic routine. I finally got it together and came up with a plan.
I borrowed the computer in the house, and with the aid of an AOL disk, I got back online. I went to the personals. I read hundreds of them. After a while, I figured out what the codes meant, and how to search for people in the area. I branched out and looked at surrounding towns. The ads didn't have pictures. It didn't matter. They were descriptive enough.
Pretty soon, I started answering them. A few at first and then more and more. I looked for couples and single women. I didn't mind if the husband/boy friend wanted to look, or whether they were young or old, black or white. All these things excited me, I found out. It felt like I was breaking taboos just thinking about it.
I got plenty of replies, some portraits, and many naughty pictures. Middle aged and overweight women on all fours, guys with panties pretending to be women, torsos without faces, and bunch of crooked white penises.
I replied to every ad that looked promising, but, it was no use. The couples wanted couples or single women. You had to bring something to the table. Tit for tat. Others were looking for someone with more experience. A 22 year old had to be broken in. No one had the time for that. I needed results. They needed to run tests, have dinner, consult with their partners. I got discouraged.
And then, Karen emailed me. She told me she was 43, and lived a few miles away.
She was a divorced Jewish woman; owned an art gallery; had two grown up kids, none of them at home. She enjoyed trips to the city; loved sushi, walks in the mountains and going camping. Dislikes: mean people, airy ice cream, and bad coffee.
She attached a portrait and asked me to email her back. I told her about my plans. She sounded interested and asked to for a photo. I sent her my set and got a reply minutes later. She attached more pictures. One of them was of the Sears Portrait Studio variety. Cloudy blue background, beige blouse, head slightly tilted, a nice smile, a large neat mass of brown hair crowning a slim face. Traditional, old fashioned. Really old fashioned. She was nice looking. I smiled thinking about this woman on the prowl. The sexy boudoir pics told me about her other side. A dark teddy with a feather boa curled around her neck and arm. A stark white face with dark shadows, large eyes and black thin lips. Her hair was free, teased into streams that merged and dissolved with other streams. Ringlets curled around her forehead and down her cheeks.
In some pictures, she laughed. In others, she shut her mouth into cold slivers of lipstick. She had nice breasts, beautifully defined cleavage that emphasized the little bones of her rib cage.
However, there was a conspicuously too much makeup, too much lace and smooth stocking. Here was reality: it seeped in through the shape of her face, the elongation of her thighs, everything that lacked realness or was conveniently hidden. I figured she must have been very beautiful once.
I thought about what it would be like to be with this mature older woman. I imagined holding her hands, kissing her breasts. I thought about the feel of her skin and the suppleness of her lips. I projected what I knew about age and filled in the gaps. I thought about her sex, like they say in the books. Was her pussy tight? Did her breasts defy the incessant pull of gravity?
Could she still fuck?
I wrote to her, and complimented her on her pictures. I told her she was beautiful and sexy, and that I wanted to meet her. I waited for a response. She wrote back. She wanted to speak over the phone, and find out more.
I gave her a call later that night.
“Hi. Is this Karen?”
“Richard? I wasn't expecting you to call so soon.”
“I'm sorry, I can call later. Tomorrow?”
“No, no, right now is fine. I was just putting away my dinner. Give me a second.”
I leaned back on my swivel chair and waited. I drew some pictures.
“Okay, I can talk. You still there?”
“I'm still here. What are you doing?” I asked.
“I was going to take a shower, read a book, and then go to bed. What about you? What are you up to?”
Jerking off. Reading. Playing with the piano. Jerking off, again.
“I think I might watch a movie,” I said.
I avoided talking about what I really wanted to talk about, what she knew this was about. I told her I had to take it easy with my money. I couldn't afford drinks, couldn't afford to show her the good time she deserved. I felt cheap, but honest.
She came up with the idea of coming to my place on Saturday. I agreed. I'd cook, and provide the music and entertainment. I told her I liked her plan.
I wished her a good night and told her I couldn't wait. I hung up the phone. I was filled with nervous excitement. I loaded her pictures on the computer, sat back, unzipped my pants, and jerked off into a shirt that I then threw into the washer.
I stayed up late masturbating to pictures of naked older women. I found out I had a thing for them.
---
The next day, I woke up earlier than usual.
I did my chores, mowed the lawn and raked the leaves. Afterwards, I showered and looked through my suitcase. I found the shirt with the fewest stains and set it aside. I spent hours fixing up dinner and then ruining it. I still had a lot to learn about cooking spaghetti and boiling potatoes.
I decided to go to the local market and buy kosher food from the deli. The guy looked at me funny. Don't combine milk and dairy in the same meal, he told me. Why not, I asked. It's not kosher, he said. You feeding this to a Jewish person? I took my food and walked back. I stopped by the wine store and-- damn it all--put down twenty bucks for a bottle of red wine. On my way back, it started to rain hard. I ran home.
I came back drenched and with only a few minutes before my date. I changed into my shirt, and a dry pair of pants.
I had just enough time for a quick one in the toilet. I finished with a splash of cologne. While I was doing this, I heard a car pulling into the front of the house. I looked out of the blinds and saw the dark form of woman getting out of a Mercedes. I ran down the stairs and into the dining room. I made sure everything was set.
The doorbell rang, followed by a knock. I ran to the door and opened it.
She stood under the awning, a sophisticated woman drenched in rain. She wore a dark pair of glasses, bright red lip stick, and a buttoned up rain coat. Streams of water poured down on the wooden deck.
“Do I have the right place?” she asked with a smile. “Richard?”
“Hi, Karen. Come in.”
I moved out of the way. Her shiny black strapless shoes clicked when she stepped in. With her heels, she was about as tall as me.
“Let me take your jacket,” I said.
I got behind her, and her jacket slipped into my hands. I hung it on the rack by the door and walked back. I stuck out my hand. She took a step forward, turned her face and with one arm behind my back, pulled my cheek to hers.
She was warm. My heart raced.
She took a step back and held my shoulders at arm's length.
“Richard. You're even more handsome in person.” I made a quick study of her.
She had on a strapless black dress, pleated around the bust and tight around the body. She was trim, with toned arms and a narrow almost long neck. The dress only went half way down her legs, didn't even come close to her knees. A black pair of sheer pantyhose bent the light around her thighs, knees and ankles.
She put her hands to her shoulders and gave me two tilts of her hips.
“Well, am I what you expected?” She caught me off guard. I didn't know what to say.
She took off her glasses and I noticed her blunted white nails, and then her eyes, green with specks of yellow. They locked into mine. I had to force myself to look away. She had my number.
She shook the rain from her hair, which was tinted into a dark brown.
“Nice place you're house sitting.” she said and looked all around her. She was still standing by the entrance.
“I'm sorry. Come in. Can I offer you a drink? I have red wine,” I said.
“Yes, please.” She pulled out a bottle of white wine from her tote. “I guess we'll be drinking tonight,” she said.
She handed me her bottle.
I walked into the kitchen and grinned as wide as I could.
I came back with two glasses. “You look great,” I told her.
“Thanks, Richard. A woman likes to hear that. I don't mind you saying it as often as it comes into your head.”
I blushed. I had to watch myself. This was a woman. Nothing like my other female friends. I knew that from the moment she walked in, she had me mastered.
“The people you're house sitting for have very good taste,” she said.
She stepped down into the dropped down living room and walked along one of the walls. She paused in front of a watercolor. She stood with her back to me and looked at a picture of a schooner. I took in the shape of her ass and the smooth tone of her calves.
“I know this artist,” she said, turned her head around, and smiled. “He's a good friend of mine.”
I nodded at her and took a drink of the wine. At that time, I hadn't developed a taste for wine. It went down hard. I hoped it was good. I hoped she liked it.
She walked around the room and looked at all the artwork. She turned at the end of one of the sofas and sat down. I walked toward the center of the room and sat on the recliner opposite her.
“We're not going to start like that, are we Richard?” She made room on the sofa and patted where she wanted me to sit. I walked over and sat next to her.
“You look nervous,” she said.
“A little. Maybe a little excited to have a beautiful woman like yourself in an empty house with me.” Idiot. I wanted to choke myself.
She smiled with gentle appreciation of my nervousness.
“At least you're honest.” She moved in closer and put her arm around me. I turned to look at her.
She looked into my eyes and asked, “Is this is your first time?”
“First?”
Her perfume was getting to me, subtle, discreetly arousing. It was the only thing about her that wasn't overt and aggressive.
“First time with someone you met online?” she asked.
“First time,” I said.
“Well, don't worry. I'm not a man.” She laughed. I chuckled and finished with a grin.
“How about, is this your first time with an older woman?”
She dissected me and found her answer without much effort.
“Yes,” I said, as a matter of fact.
“Well, you can relax. It's easy. Just like any other date. I just happen to be more experienced, and open.” She pressed her legs against mine “So, what do you think?”
“I think I like you,” I said.
She knocked me with her knee.
“How about you? Do you do this much?”
“Sometimes. Depends. I check the personals every once in a while. I liked yours. I like the way it was written. Not many people take the trouble of writing so eloquently about themselves.”
I was curious. “How long you've been doing this?” I asked.
“A long time, Richard.”
“Tell me.”
“Of course. But first, how about dinner?”
She put a hand on my lap, and got to her feet. She bent over. Her hair fell down in front of me. It cut the room into bars of dark and light. She lowered her face to mine and softly breathed on my mouth. I tasted the sweet tackiness of her lips.
She walked away and climbed the step before I got off the couch.
---
“It's not what you think.” She took a sip. “The fact that we slept with other people had nothing to do with it. My husband and I drifted apart, we became different people. People change, Richard. You wont be who you are now, 20 years into the future.
“So, Richard tell me something. This is a very exciting time for you.”
“You mean with you here. I think so.”
She laughed with food in her mouth. “That's not what I meant.”
I laughed, too.
She jabbed a piece of bread in my direction.
“What are you doing in Portland, Richard? Do you have family there? Do you have a job lined up?”
“No, I don't have a job. I don't know anyone. I'm going there to be a writer.”
“A writer? Now, that sounds fascinating. You want to work for a newspaper or magazine? Maybe one of these new online magazines?”
“No, I figured I'd get a job-job and work on my writing, try to publish some stories.
“Am I going to end up in one of these stories?”
I had her going. “Depends.” I nodded.
She threw a croûton across the table. It swerved in midair and landed a yard away.
“I was a writer once,” she said.
“What did you write?”
“I wrote articles for a swinger magazine, The Lifestyle. I wrote up meeting notes, calendar of events, profiles on people, that sort of thing. I did it for about ten years. A few hundred pieces later, I got tired of it and quit. I went back to my first love, painting. I did that for a few years. I realized I wasn't good enough to make it professionally, but still wanted to have a foot in the art community, maybe help young artists stay the course.”
“So you started an art gallery?”
“I started that with my husband. I kept it going after we split up. It's a lot of work, but I love it.”
I listened to her and followed the sound of her voice.
“So.” She paused. “Do. What. You. Love. I'm so excited for you, Richard.” She moved away her plate and took a sip from her glass.
I ate the last bit of rice and chicken on my plate and wiped my mouth with a napkin.
“Let me help with the dishes,” she said and came over to my chair. She put a hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks for dinner, Richard.” I looked up a her face. “It was thoughtful of you to get kosher food. I don't maintain a kosher diet, but I love the food anyway. So, thank you.”
She leaned over the table and grabbed my plate. I enjoyed watching her move away. I kept my eyes on her behind. I didn't think she was looking, but that's where women have it over guys. They know.
She reached back and grabbed the hem of her dress. She lifted the material to about waist height and leaned forward. I caught a glimpse of her panties before she pulled down her skirt.
“Did you take a good look of that?” she asked and shook her derrière.
“Not nearly enough. I think I missed a thing or two.” I got off my chair and walked over. I stood a few feet away.
“Oh, like what?”
She shook her ass again. I pulled her close and kissed her mouth.
“The panties,” I asked. “were they blue or black?”
She turned a thigh to me. I moved my hand along her hip. She grabbed her skirt and hiked it again.
I bent down to the crotch of her panties.
“Blue,” I said. “Dark blue.”
“Are you sure? Take a closer look.”
I got both my hands on her hips and stared into the middle of her crotch. Straggly hairs escaped her panties, down her two legs.
“No. Black.”
I put my lips to the material between her legs and kissed it.
Her nails pinched my scalp. I squeezed her ass and stroked her thighs.
I stood up, and moved my hands over her slim form. When I was about eye level, she stepped out of her shoes and dropped down 2 inches. Her forehead kissed my lips. I kissed her there over and over again.
“I could kiss you all night Richard,” she said. Her nose pressed into my face.
I put my arms around her back and held her close. She leaned back on the half wall and knocked down a bunch of cookbooks. We opened our mouths. Our hands explored each other.
It took all my discipline not to tear off her dress. I bent my head to her neck and pressed my lips to her shoulders. Her hair was in my face and I smelled the flowery scent of her hair. She raised her shoulders. I gave her small bites and licks down her throat. Inside my arms, she moaned and turned her body around. She put her hands on the table and pushed her ass into me. She writhed and flexed. I pushed back.
“Richard, I want to show you things.”
I gave her a big push with my cock. She bounced. I tried it again but she barely moved. She sat back on me. I moved my hands to her front and squeezed her tits. She was still, incredibly, wearing her dress.
“Oh, Richard,” she said.
She put her hand up to one of her breasts and brought down the cup holding it in. She maneuvered my fingers to her nipple. She pushed out her chest, while I half twisted her tit, and my other hand rubbed her stomach. I licked her neck.
“Richard, Honey, where do you sleep?”
We let go. She picked up her shoes. I took her hand and walked to the green carpeted stairs.
“Up there, to the left.”
No one ever walked a set of stairs the way she did. She went up a few steps and then she started to pivot her weight from one leg to the next. I put my palms on her behind and gave her a gentle upward push. Her ass flexed, the muscles of her legs tightened and relaxed. She took it nice and slow. She paused and looked behind her shoulder.
I beamed her a hard smile. Midway up he stairs, I moved my hands into her dress. She paused. I rubbed my thumbs between the crease of her ass and her leg. I smacked her ass hard. She ran up the stairs. I grabbed behind her knees and dropped her.
She turned herself around and pretended to kick me off. I hung onto her feet and grabbed her all over her legs. She calmed down and I relaxed my hold. She put her hand to her chin, and smiled gently. She laid back and pulled her dress up above her bellybutton, and spread her legs. I saw her full panties.
I put my face to her crotch and she pulled me to her. I smelled her wet scent. I nuzzled my nose into her springy satin covered bush and breathed her woman's aroma.
“Karen, I want to see your pussy. Please.”
She took her index finger to the elastic band that ran down her bush and hooked it with her long middle finger. She slowly pulled her panties to the side. She uncovered a beautiful black mound of black hairs, a little bare in parts, but covering much of her lower extremities. All natural, nothing trimmed or shaved.
“I used to shave, but got tired of the ingrown hairs. Other guys-- you don't mind me talking about other guys, do you, Richard”
I shook my head, no.
“Guys told me they preferred me with a hairy bush. It was different and that made all the difference. She inserted her long manicured finger into her slit. She took it out and signed her juices on the side of my lips. I turned and kissed the open palm of her hand.
I plastered my face to her crotch and rubbed my hands down the inside of her legs. She instinctively closed her thighs on my head. It wasn't so tight I couldn't move but they held me snug. Her nails massaged my scalp.
“I want to eat you, Karen.”
“I was hoping you would,” she said and opened her legs.
I lifted my face from her patch, took a deep breath and reached under her legs. No way I could do anything the way we were lying down. I lifted her thighs a foot higher. I looked at her face which was anxious for the first time that night.
I slid under her legs. I felt through her bush with my tongue until I licked the smooth, tangy warmness of her pussy. Some women's cunts are higher up, closer to their stomachs. Hers was almost exactly on her underside. I tilted her body and got into her wonderful center.
“Richard, thank you for having me over. You've been a perfect gentleman to me. And now you're eating me out. You've had an excellent college education, haven't you.”
“Uh huh.”
“I shouldn't be surprised if you graduated Magna-cum-ladda.”
I managed a “yeah” as I continued to lap at her long wet labia. I worked diligently on licking up the most outside exposed parts of her pussy.
“Richard, deeper, please.” She pushed on her arms.
I kept licking her now perfectly clean but sloppy wet pussy. “Richard, please, what are you doing?”
“Getting you ready.”
She didn't speak anymore after that. She surrendered herself to me. I tried my best to keep her on edge. When I had enough of cleaning her up, I gave her outside thighs a tight squeeze and then, having tasted her buildup of pungent female cum, I dug my tongue as far as I could go. She bucked and threw me back. I held her legs tight and fucked her with my tongue.
She screamed. “Richard, Richard.”
She slapped her forehead with her arm. I took a few more licks and dropped her legs. Carelessly, unceremoniously. It was my best acting.
“You macho pig bastard.” She jerked her head back and smiled.
I passed my shirt sleeve across my mouth.“Karen, you taste good.”
She breathed hard on the steps. I sat down next to her.
“I'm not old, if that's what you're thinking,” she said. Sweat dripped down her forehead. It was not that warm in the house.
She got up and kept walking. She didn't try to show off, she was just trying to get going. She walked into my room and collapsed in my narrow bed.
I walked in and opened the double hung window to let in the cold air.
There wasn't any room on the bed for two people, not unless one of them was on top of the other. And she looked like she needed the bed more than me. So I just sat on the edge and smoothed her pantyhose. Her hand fell delicately on my back.
“Give me a second, Sweetie,” she said. “There, rub my legs. “Where'd you learn to suck pussy like that?”
“I didn't know I could. I just did what felt right.”
“Get undressed,” she said.
I got up and took off my shirt and pants. She helped with the briefs. She had her legs over the bed, now, and she was looking at my naked body.
I posed and looked down at her face. She smiled. She reached her hand to my cock and leaned forward. She gave it the tiniest kiss on the tip. It gently sprang up and fell down. Blood started rushing.
“Let me see. You're a guy. I bet you don't have a bottle of lotion.”
“No lotion,” I said.
“Wait here.”
She turned and ran down the steps. She hurried back and came into the room carrying her purse.
“Lie down,” she said.
I crawled into bed. She walked up and stood over me. She smacked the white bottle into her hand and worked the lotion thoroughly between her fingers, palm, and the back of her hands.
“This is so I don't hurt you.” She smiled.
She got on her knees and then sat down on her bottom. She pulled my farthest leg closer and my other leg fell off the bed.
Her face came within inches of my cock. She talked to me in a low voice.
“You probably think you'd rather have me suck your dick?”
“Thought crossed my mind.”
She grabbed the base of my cock with her thumb and index finger. She blew a long wind through the shaft and hair. Chills ran down my body.
“Wrong.” she said.
I sat up on my elbows and looked at her. She ran one of her blunted finger nails lightly down my shaft.
Her large green eyes locked on the target. She adjusted her thumb and finger and jacked me up and down by my stomach. Her eyes darted to my face and back to my cock.
I licked my lips.
Her face was intent and seemed devoid of emotion. She could have fooled me except that she kept breaking into laughter and smiles.
She moved her fingers and palm into every conceivable choreography of motions. She pulled on my foreskin. She bent It back and stroked the bottom of the head. She used the tips of her fingers. One, two, three fingers slid over my cock. My cock glistened. She passed a finger over my pisser. I wanted to cum. She kept on the delicious torture.
She jacked me with one, now two hands. She released me and just looked. I reached for my cock. She slapped my hands.
I studied the lines on her face. I wanted to know what she'd do next.
“Please,” I said.
She nodded and reached for my cock.
She rolled her thumb over my frenulum. Don't know what that is? Look it up. Next time you're sucking cock, remember me and drop me a note.
She got into a rhythmic smoothing motion with the flatness of her thumb. I knew I'd be cumming soon. Then, she tightened her hold on the base of my cock. She kept the semen from flowing out of my balls! My cock grew even harder.
“Hey!” I wanted to leap off the bed.
With the tips of her fingers, and sometimes the bottom of her palm, she gently rubbed the spongy top. I tingled. She held me with two hands and we both watched as drips of clear cum seeped out and ran down my length.
She let go. Load after load erupted in streams of cloudy white. In the middle of this, she planted her lips on the purple head and sucked. I groaned and twisted, and finally crashed on the bed.
“Karen, Karen,” I yelled. I closed my eyes.
She ran the water in the sink and washed. She brought me back a shirt from my drawer and dabbed at the cum. She came down on my stomach. She slipped my wilted cock into her mouth. She pulled the hair back from her face so I could watch. I stroked her head. She hummed.
“Did you like that?” she asked.
I stared at her in open-eyed disbelief.
She got off the bed and started to take off her dress.
I marveled studying the slight sag of her tits, her dark sharp nipples, the wonderful roundness of her belly, the lean long muscles that ran down her spine. I watched the imperfections imposed by age and held together through effort. She looked at me with a vulnerability that urged for my approval. She gathered her hair and pulled it above her head.
This is me, she said.
A lump grew in my throat. I nodded as she lowered the dress down her beautiful legs, rolled her pantyhose to reveal her white smooth skin. She removed her panties, and thrust her cunt to my face so I could kiss her there again. I rubbed her legs, kissed the roundness of her hips, licked her navel, and the creased flesh below her stomach. I had her turn around. I licked the flat base of her spine, and rolled my tongue between her buttocks. She clawed at my neck.
“Richard, Richard.” Seemed like all we could do was say our names.
She came to bed.
We kissed and rubbed all over each other's bodies. Her vagina was slick and tight, our movements short and lazy. I moved in her for hours. I told her how it felt, how she made me feel.
“Thank you, Richard,” she said
Eventually, I came in small amounts and my penis slipped from her behind. We covered up with a thin sheet, and spooned each other to keep warm. We talked about my future and her past, where she'd been, what she had seen, what my dreams were, what I was afraid of, all those things that have their place at that time of night. In the cool breezy air, we whispered and held each other like long time lovers. We interrupted our stories with kisses.
Of course, that night was not an end, just the beginning.
With the help of my boss, who knew everyone in town, I found a place to house sit. The house, a green and white Colonial home, was located in an affluent part of town. It had a full front and back yard, plenty of trees, and a screen covered patio. I met the owners, an elderly couple that had been together for half a century. They traveled every year. This summer, it was a month-long trip to Europe.
They got to know me a little, and then they left. My job was to rake, mow the lawn and water the plants. Aside from two hours every week, I basically had nothing to do but read and jackoff. That's when I started to go a little nuts.
At my job, I looked at every woman with desperate desire. Didn't matter if she was old and wrinkled, or a hundred pounds overweight. My friends were gone, my ex was gone, my family was 3,000 miles away. I was one screwed up son-of-a-bitch. I have a feeling my coworkers recognized the deterioration. The poor guy's a zombie, neither dead, nor alive, graduated but not gone. Ignore him. He looks at all the women like that.
The masturbation only made the loneliness worse. In the evening I returned to an empty house. I'd bring out my magazines, and, standing up or lying down, I'd stroke myself into a lull. The hours vanished. I began to worry about my pathetic routine. I finally got it together and came up with a plan.
I borrowed the computer in the house, and with the aid of an AOL disk, I got back online. I went to the personals. I read hundreds of them. After a while, I figured out what the codes meant, and how to search for people in the area. I branched out and looked at surrounding towns. The ads didn't have pictures. It didn't matter. They were descriptive enough.
Pretty soon, I started answering them. A few at first and then more and more. I looked for couples and single women. I didn't mind if the husband/boy friend wanted to look, or whether they were young or old, black or white. All these things excited me, I found out. It felt like I was breaking taboos just thinking about it.
I got plenty of replies, some portraits, and many naughty pictures. Middle aged and overweight women on all fours, guys with panties pretending to be women, torsos without faces, and bunch of crooked white penises.
I replied to every ad that looked promising, but, it was no use. The couples wanted couples or single women. You had to bring something to the table. Tit for tat. Others were looking for someone with more experience. A 22 year old had to be broken in. No one had the time for that. I needed results. They needed to run tests, have dinner, consult with their partners. I got discouraged.
And then, Karen emailed me. She told me she was 43, and lived a few miles away.
She was a divorced Jewish woman; owned an art gallery; had two grown up kids, none of them at home. She enjoyed trips to the city; loved sushi, walks in the mountains and going camping. Dislikes: mean people, airy ice cream, and bad coffee.
She attached a portrait and asked me to email her back. I told her about my plans. She sounded interested and asked to for a photo. I sent her my set and got a reply minutes later. She attached more pictures. One of them was of the Sears Portrait Studio variety. Cloudy blue background, beige blouse, head slightly tilted, a nice smile, a large neat mass of brown hair crowning a slim face. Traditional, old fashioned. Really old fashioned. She was nice looking. I smiled thinking about this woman on the prowl. The sexy boudoir pics told me about her other side. A dark teddy with a feather boa curled around her neck and arm. A stark white face with dark shadows, large eyes and black thin lips. Her hair was free, teased into streams that merged and dissolved with other streams. Ringlets curled around her forehead and down her cheeks.
In some pictures, she laughed. In others, she shut her mouth into cold slivers of lipstick. She had nice breasts, beautifully defined cleavage that emphasized the little bones of her rib cage.
However, there was a conspicuously too much makeup, too much lace and smooth stocking. Here was reality: it seeped in through the shape of her face, the elongation of her thighs, everything that lacked realness or was conveniently hidden. I figured she must have been very beautiful once.
I thought about what it would be like to be with this mature older woman. I imagined holding her hands, kissing her breasts. I thought about the feel of her skin and the suppleness of her lips. I projected what I knew about age and filled in the gaps. I thought about her sex, like they say in the books. Was her pussy tight? Did her breasts defy the incessant pull of gravity?
Could she still fuck?
I wrote to her, and complimented her on her pictures. I told her she was beautiful and sexy, and that I wanted to meet her. I waited for a response. She wrote back. She wanted to speak over the phone, and find out more.
I gave her a call later that night.
“Hi. Is this Karen?”
“Richard? I wasn't expecting you to call so soon.”
“I'm sorry, I can call later. Tomorrow?”
“No, no, right now is fine. I was just putting away my dinner. Give me a second.”
I leaned back on my swivel chair and waited. I drew some pictures.
“Okay, I can talk. You still there?”
“I'm still here. What are you doing?” I asked.
“I was going to take a shower, read a book, and then go to bed. What about you? What are you up to?”
Jerking off. Reading. Playing with the piano. Jerking off, again.
“I think I might watch a movie,” I said.
I avoided talking about what I really wanted to talk about, what she knew this was about. I told her I had to take it easy with my money. I couldn't afford drinks, couldn't afford to show her the good time she deserved. I felt cheap, but honest.
She came up with the idea of coming to my place on Saturday. I agreed. I'd cook, and provide the music and entertainment. I told her I liked her plan.
I wished her a good night and told her I couldn't wait. I hung up the phone. I was filled with nervous excitement. I loaded her pictures on the computer, sat back, unzipped my pants, and jerked off into a shirt that I then threw into the washer.
I stayed up late masturbating to pictures of naked older women. I found out I had a thing for them.
---
The next day, I woke up earlier than usual.
I did my chores, mowed the lawn and raked the leaves. Afterwards, I showered and looked through my suitcase. I found the shirt with the fewest stains and set it aside. I spent hours fixing up dinner and then ruining it. I still had a lot to learn about cooking spaghetti and boiling potatoes.
I decided to go to the local market and buy kosher food from the deli. The guy looked at me funny. Don't combine milk and dairy in the same meal, he told me. Why not, I asked. It's not kosher, he said. You feeding this to a Jewish person? I took my food and walked back. I stopped by the wine store and-- damn it all--put down twenty bucks for a bottle of red wine. On my way back, it started to rain hard. I ran home.
I came back drenched and with only a few minutes before my date. I changed into my shirt, and a dry pair of pants.
I had just enough time for a quick one in the toilet. I finished with a splash of cologne. While I was doing this, I heard a car pulling into the front of the house. I looked out of the blinds and saw the dark form of woman getting out of a Mercedes. I ran down the stairs and into the dining room. I made sure everything was set.
The doorbell rang, followed by a knock. I ran to the door and opened it.
She stood under the awning, a sophisticated woman drenched in rain. She wore a dark pair of glasses, bright red lip stick, and a buttoned up rain coat. Streams of water poured down on the wooden deck.
“Do I have the right place?” she asked with a smile. “Richard?”
“Hi, Karen. Come in.”
I moved out of the way. Her shiny black strapless shoes clicked when she stepped in. With her heels, she was about as tall as me.
“Let me take your jacket,” I said.
I got behind her, and her jacket slipped into my hands. I hung it on the rack by the door and walked back. I stuck out my hand. She took a step forward, turned her face and with one arm behind my back, pulled my cheek to hers.
She was warm. My heart raced.
She took a step back and held my shoulders at arm's length.
“Richard. You're even more handsome in person.” I made a quick study of her.
She had on a strapless black dress, pleated around the bust and tight around the body. She was trim, with toned arms and a narrow almost long neck. The dress only went half way down her legs, didn't even come close to her knees. A black pair of sheer pantyhose bent the light around her thighs, knees and ankles.
She put her hands to her shoulders and gave me two tilts of her hips.
“Well, am I what you expected?” She caught me off guard. I didn't know what to say.
She took off her glasses and I noticed her blunted white nails, and then her eyes, green with specks of yellow. They locked into mine. I had to force myself to look away. She had my number.
She shook the rain from her hair, which was tinted into a dark brown.
“Nice place you're house sitting.” she said and looked all around her. She was still standing by the entrance.
“I'm sorry. Come in. Can I offer you a drink? I have red wine,” I said.
“Yes, please.” She pulled out a bottle of white wine from her tote. “I guess we'll be drinking tonight,” she said.
She handed me her bottle.
I walked into the kitchen and grinned as wide as I could.
I came back with two glasses. “You look great,” I told her.
“Thanks, Richard. A woman likes to hear that. I don't mind you saying it as often as it comes into your head.”
I blushed. I had to watch myself. This was a woman. Nothing like my other female friends. I knew that from the moment she walked in, she had me mastered.
“The people you're house sitting for have very good taste,” she said.
She stepped down into the dropped down living room and walked along one of the walls. She paused in front of a watercolor. She stood with her back to me and looked at a picture of a schooner. I took in the shape of her ass and the smooth tone of her calves.
“I know this artist,” she said, turned her head around, and smiled. “He's a good friend of mine.”
I nodded at her and took a drink of the wine. At that time, I hadn't developed a taste for wine. It went down hard. I hoped it was good. I hoped she liked it.
She walked around the room and looked at all the artwork. She turned at the end of one of the sofas and sat down. I walked toward the center of the room and sat on the recliner opposite her.
“We're not going to start like that, are we Richard?” She made room on the sofa and patted where she wanted me to sit. I walked over and sat next to her.
“You look nervous,” she said.
“A little. Maybe a little excited to have a beautiful woman like yourself in an empty house with me.” Idiot. I wanted to choke myself.
She smiled with gentle appreciation of my nervousness.
“At least you're honest.” She moved in closer and put her arm around me. I turned to look at her.
She looked into my eyes and asked, “Is this is your first time?”
“First?”
Her perfume was getting to me, subtle, discreetly arousing. It was the only thing about her that wasn't overt and aggressive.
“First time with someone you met online?” she asked.
“First time,” I said.
“Well, don't worry. I'm not a man.” She laughed. I chuckled and finished with a grin.
“How about, is this your first time with an older woman?”
She dissected me and found her answer without much effort.
“Yes,” I said, as a matter of fact.
“Well, you can relax. It's easy. Just like any other date. I just happen to be more experienced, and open.” She pressed her legs against mine “So, what do you think?”
“I think I like you,” I said.
She knocked me with her knee.
“How about you? Do you do this much?”
“Sometimes. Depends. I check the personals every once in a while. I liked yours. I like the way it was written. Not many people take the trouble of writing so eloquently about themselves.”
I was curious. “How long you've been doing this?” I asked.
“A long time, Richard.”
“Tell me.”
“Of course. But first, how about dinner?”
She put a hand on my lap, and got to her feet. She bent over. Her hair fell down in front of me. It cut the room into bars of dark and light. She lowered her face to mine and softly breathed on my mouth. I tasted the sweet tackiness of her lips.
She walked away and climbed the step before I got off the couch.
---
“It's not what you think.” She took a sip. “The fact that we slept with other people had nothing to do with it. My husband and I drifted apart, we became different people. People change, Richard. You wont be who you are now, 20 years into the future.
“So, Richard tell me something. This is a very exciting time for you.”
“You mean with you here. I think so.”
She laughed with food in her mouth. “That's not what I meant.”
I laughed, too.
She jabbed a piece of bread in my direction.
“What are you doing in Portland, Richard? Do you have family there? Do you have a job lined up?”
“No, I don't have a job. I don't know anyone. I'm going there to be a writer.”
“A writer? Now, that sounds fascinating. You want to work for a newspaper or magazine? Maybe one of these new online magazines?”
“No, I figured I'd get a job-job and work on my writing, try to publish some stories.
“Am I going to end up in one of these stories?”
I had her going. “Depends.” I nodded.
She threw a croûton across the table. It swerved in midair and landed a yard away.
“I was a writer once,” she said.
“What did you write?”
“I wrote articles for a swinger magazine, The Lifestyle. I wrote up meeting notes, calendar of events, profiles on people, that sort of thing. I did it for about ten years. A few hundred pieces later, I got tired of it and quit. I went back to my first love, painting. I did that for a few years. I realized I wasn't good enough to make it professionally, but still wanted to have a foot in the art community, maybe help young artists stay the course.”
“So you started an art gallery?”
“I started that with my husband. I kept it going after we split up. It's a lot of work, but I love it.”
I listened to her and followed the sound of her voice.
“So.” She paused. “Do. What. You. Love. I'm so excited for you, Richard.” She moved away her plate and took a sip from her glass.
I ate the last bit of rice and chicken on my plate and wiped my mouth with a napkin.
“Let me help with the dishes,” she said and came over to my chair. She put a hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks for dinner, Richard.” I looked up a her face. “It was thoughtful of you to get kosher food. I don't maintain a kosher diet, but I love the food anyway. So, thank you.”
She leaned over the table and grabbed my plate. I enjoyed watching her move away. I kept my eyes on her behind. I didn't think she was looking, but that's where women have it over guys. They know.
She reached back and grabbed the hem of her dress. She lifted the material to about waist height and leaned forward. I caught a glimpse of her panties before she pulled down her skirt.
“Did you take a good look of that?” she asked and shook her derrière.
“Not nearly enough. I think I missed a thing or two.” I got off my chair and walked over. I stood a few feet away.
“Oh, like what?”
She shook her ass again. I pulled her close and kissed her mouth.
“The panties,” I asked. “were they blue or black?”
She turned a thigh to me. I moved my hand along her hip. She grabbed her skirt and hiked it again.
I bent down to the crotch of her panties.
“Blue,” I said. “Dark blue.”
“Are you sure? Take a closer look.”
I got both my hands on her hips and stared into the middle of her crotch. Straggly hairs escaped her panties, down her two legs.
“No. Black.”
I put my lips to the material between her legs and kissed it.
Her nails pinched my scalp. I squeezed her ass and stroked her thighs.
I stood up, and moved my hands over her slim form. When I was about eye level, she stepped out of her shoes and dropped down 2 inches. Her forehead kissed my lips. I kissed her there over and over again.
“I could kiss you all night Richard,” she said. Her nose pressed into my face.
I put my arms around her back and held her close. She leaned back on the half wall and knocked down a bunch of cookbooks. We opened our mouths. Our hands explored each other.
It took all my discipline not to tear off her dress. I bent my head to her neck and pressed my lips to her shoulders. Her hair was in my face and I smelled the flowery scent of her hair. She raised her shoulders. I gave her small bites and licks down her throat. Inside my arms, she moaned and turned her body around. She put her hands on the table and pushed her ass into me. She writhed and flexed. I pushed back.
“Richard, I want to show you things.”
I gave her a big push with my cock. She bounced. I tried it again but she barely moved. She sat back on me. I moved my hands to her front and squeezed her tits. She was still, incredibly, wearing her dress.
“Oh, Richard,” she said.
She put her hand up to one of her breasts and brought down the cup holding it in. She maneuvered my fingers to her nipple. She pushed out her chest, while I half twisted her tit, and my other hand rubbed her stomach. I licked her neck.
“Richard, Honey, where do you sleep?”
We let go. She picked up her shoes. I took her hand and walked to the green carpeted stairs.
“Up there, to the left.”
No one ever walked a set of stairs the way she did. She went up a few steps and then she started to pivot her weight from one leg to the next. I put my palms on her behind and gave her a gentle upward push. Her ass flexed, the muscles of her legs tightened and relaxed. She took it nice and slow. She paused and looked behind her shoulder.
I beamed her a hard smile. Midway up he stairs, I moved my hands into her dress. She paused. I rubbed my thumbs between the crease of her ass and her leg. I smacked her ass hard. She ran up the stairs. I grabbed behind her knees and dropped her.
She turned herself around and pretended to kick me off. I hung onto her feet and grabbed her all over her legs. She calmed down and I relaxed my hold. She put her hand to her chin, and smiled gently. She laid back and pulled her dress up above her bellybutton, and spread her legs. I saw her full panties.
I put my face to her crotch and she pulled me to her. I smelled her wet scent. I nuzzled my nose into her springy satin covered bush and breathed her woman's aroma.
“Karen, I want to see your pussy. Please.”
She took her index finger to the elastic band that ran down her bush and hooked it with her long middle finger. She slowly pulled her panties to the side. She uncovered a beautiful black mound of black hairs, a little bare in parts, but covering much of her lower extremities. All natural, nothing trimmed or shaved.
“I used to shave, but got tired of the ingrown hairs. Other guys-- you don't mind me talking about other guys, do you, Richard”
I shook my head, no.
“Guys told me they preferred me with a hairy bush. It was different and that made all the difference. She inserted her long manicured finger into her slit. She took it out and signed her juices on the side of my lips. I turned and kissed the open palm of her hand.
I plastered my face to her crotch and rubbed my hands down the inside of her legs. She instinctively closed her thighs on my head. It wasn't so tight I couldn't move but they held me snug. Her nails massaged my scalp.
“I want to eat you, Karen.”
“I was hoping you would,” she said and opened her legs.
I lifted my face from her patch, took a deep breath and reached under her legs. No way I could do anything the way we were lying down. I lifted her thighs a foot higher. I looked at her face which was anxious for the first time that night.
I slid under her legs. I felt through her bush with my tongue until I licked the smooth, tangy warmness of her pussy. Some women's cunts are higher up, closer to their stomachs. Hers was almost exactly on her underside. I tilted her body and got into her wonderful center.
“Richard, thank you for having me over. You've been a perfect gentleman to me. And now you're eating me out. You've had an excellent college education, haven't you.”
“Uh huh.”
“I shouldn't be surprised if you graduated Magna-cum-ladda.”
I managed a “yeah” as I continued to lap at her long wet labia. I worked diligently on licking up the most outside exposed parts of her pussy.
“Richard, deeper, please.” She pushed on her arms.
I kept licking her now perfectly clean but sloppy wet pussy. “Richard, please, what are you doing?”
“Getting you ready.”
She didn't speak anymore after that. She surrendered herself to me. I tried my best to keep her on edge. When I had enough of cleaning her up, I gave her outside thighs a tight squeeze and then, having tasted her buildup of pungent female cum, I dug my tongue as far as I could go. She bucked and threw me back. I held her legs tight and fucked her with my tongue.
She screamed. “Richard, Richard.”
She slapped her forehead with her arm. I took a few more licks and dropped her legs. Carelessly, unceremoniously. It was my best acting.
“You macho pig bastard.” She jerked her head back and smiled.
I passed my shirt sleeve across my mouth.“Karen, you taste good.”
She breathed hard on the steps. I sat down next to her.
“I'm not old, if that's what you're thinking,” she said. Sweat dripped down her forehead. It was not that warm in the house.
She got up and kept walking. She didn't try to show off, she was just trying to get going. She walked into my room and collapsed in my narrow bed.
I walked in and opened the double hung window to let in the cold air.
There wasn't any room on the bed for two people, not unless one of them was on top of the other. And she looked like she needed the bed more than me. So I just sat on the edge and smoothed her pantyhose. Her hand fell delicately on my back.
“Give me a second, Sweetie,” she said. “There, rub my legs. “Where'd you learn to suck pussy like that?”
“I didn't know I could. I just did what felt right.”
“Get undressed,” she said.
I got up and took off my shirt and pants. She helped with the briefs. She had her legs over the bed, now, and she was looking at my naked body.
I posed and looked down at her face. She smiled. She reached her hand to my cock and leaned forward. She gave it the tiniest kiss on the tip. It gently sprang up and fell down. Blood started rushing.
“Let me see. You're a guy. I bet you don't have a bottle of lotion.”
“No lotion,” I said.
“Wait here.”
She turned and ran down the steps. She hurried back and came into the room carrying her purse.
“Lie down,” she said.
I crawled into bed. She walked up and stood over me. She smacked the white bottle into her hand and worked the lotion thoroughly between her fingers, palm, and the back of her hands.
“This is so I don't hurt you.” She smiled.
She got on her knees and then sat down on her bottom. She pulled my farthest leg closer and my other leg fell off the bed.
Her face came within inches of my cock. She talked to me in a low voice.
“You probably think you'd rather have me suck your dick?”
“Thought crossed my mind.”
She grabbed the base of my cock with her thumb and index finger. She blew a long wind through the shaft and hair. Chills ran down my body.
“Wrong.” she said.
I sat up on my elbows and looked at her. She ran one of her blunted finger nails lightly down my shaft.
Her large green eyes locked on the target. She adjusted her thumb and finger and jacked me up and down by my stomach. Her eyes darted to my face and back to my cock.
I licked my lips.
Her face was intent and seemed devoid of emotion. She could have fooled me except that she kept breaking into laughter and smiles.
She moved her fingers and palm into every conceivable choreography of motions. She pulled on my foreskin. She bent It back and stroked the bottom of the head. She used the tips of her fingers. One, two, three fingers slid over my cock. My cock glistened. She passed a finger over my pisser. I wanted to cum. She kept on the delicious torture.
She jacked me with one, now two hands. She released me and just looked. I reached for my cock. She slapped my hands.
I studied the lines on her face. I wanted to know what she'd do next.
“Please,” I said.
She nodded and reached for my cock.
She rolled her thumb over my frenulum. Don't know what that is? Look it up. Next time you're sucking cock, remember me and drop me a note.
She got into a rhythmic smoothing motion with the flatness of her thumb. I knew I'd be cumming soon. Then, she tightened her hold on the base of my cock. She kept the semen from flowing out of my balls! My cock grew even harder.
“Hey!” I wanted to leap off the bed.
With the tips of her fingers, and sometimes the bottom of her palm, she gently rubbed the spongy top. I tingled. She held me with two hands and we both watched as drips of clear cum seeped out and ran down my length.
She let go. Load after load erupted in streams of cloudy white. In the middle of this, she planted her lips on the purple head and sucked. I groaned and twisted, and finally crashed on the bed.
“Karen, Karen,” I yelled. I closed my eyes.
She ran the water in the sink and washed. She brought me back a shirt from my drawer and dabbed at the cum. She came down on my stomach. She slipped my wilted cock into her mouth. She pulled the hair back from her face so I could watch. I stroked her head. She hummed.
“Did you like that?” she asked.
I stared at her in open-eyed disbelief.
She got off the bed and started to take off her dress.
I marveled studying the slight sag of her tits, her dark sharp nipples, the wonderful roundness of her belly, the lean long muscles that ran down her spine. I watched the imperfections imposed by age and held together through effort. She looked at me with a vulnerability that urged for my approval. She gathered her hair and pulled it above her head.
This is me, she said.
A lump grew in my throat. I nodded as she lowered the dress down her beautiful legs, rolled her pantyhose to reveal her white smooth skin. She removed her panties, and thrust her cunt to my face so I could kiss her there again. I rubbed her legs, kissed the roundness of her hips, licked her navel, and the creased flesh below her stomach. I had her turn around. I licked the flat base of her spine, and rolled my tongue between her buttocks. She clawed at my neck.
“Richard, Richard.” Seemed like all we could do was say our names.
She came to bed.
We kissed and rubbed all over each other's bodies. Her vagina was slick and tight, our movements short and lazy. I moved in her for hours. I told her how it felt, how she made me feel.
“Thank you, Richard,” she said
Eventually, I came in small amounts and my penis slipped from her behind. We covered up with a thin sheet, and spooned each other to keep warm. We talked about my future and her past, where she'd been, what she had seen, what my dreams were, what I was afraid of, all those things that have their place at that time of night. In the cool breezy air, we whispered and held each other like long time lovers. We interrupted our stories with kisses.
Of course, that night was not an end, just the beginning.
Note: Moving Teresa
Anonymous emailed me and told me that she thought the character at the beginning with Teresa was a female, until things cleared up much later in the story. I love my lesbian audience. Hugs. Well, I upgraded the characters and now everyone has names!
Teresa -- The mother with the shameful past.
George -- The hero of this yarn.
Celia -- Teresa's daughter. The unwitting foil.
Tammy -- Who is Tammy? This and other secrets will be revealed.
Teresa -- The mother with the shameful past.
George -- The hero of this yarn.
Celia -- Teresa's daughter. The unwitting foil.
Tammy -- Who is Tammy? This and other secrets will be revealed.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Story: Brooke Anne Jackson's Story
In her email, she told me her name was Brooke Anne Jackson.
She came right out and asked. Her spelling was gruesome.
I want you to write a story about me. I'm a 19 year old college student. I'm bi, I turned 2 of my high school friends into pussy loving lesbians. I even seduced one of their mothers. I have pierced nipples and I'm thinking about getting a ring on my clit. I love to tease, it makes the fuck so much hotter. I like swimming naked in my pool and walking around sweaty in my Sunday dress with nothing underneath. It drives my dad crazy. I know I remind him of my mom.
Fucking-a. I've been spammed. That's what happens when you hang around Internet sex sites.
I wrote 'her' back. Ha, ha. See you in the funny pages. Who knows maybe it was a lonely fat white guy with a little penis. Or maybe it really was a hot young chick.
She replied, I'm for real. I love your stuff on alt.stories. Your stories are hot. I'm a natural girl. I have it where it counts. I know you like that in a woman. I respect a man that appreciates curves. You'll love writing about me.
She told me she had read all my stories.
I like you're portrayal of sex. I like how you describe a woman's thigh and ass, the licking of the pussy, when the guys grabbing this and that and then fucking them. I like the trick endings, too. Write me a story. I've attached some pictures to give you some ideas.
As if the crazy fan mail wasn't enough. Now, I'm getting dirty pictures in my mail box.
I opened up the attachments.
I was expecting some crazy looking white chick. I've dated a few of those.
This was a regular chocolate bunny piece of dark meat. She wore two different white string bikinis in her photo sets. She was thick, and I'm not talking thick like pudding, more like a juicy piece of sizzling pan fried mutton. Her belly was curvy and wide, she wasn't even trying to squeeze anything in. Her tits hung low and her ass was fat. Now, everyone that reads my stuff knows I like me chunky chicks just fine. This was just amazing.
She had a wide flat nose. Frizzy, Afro-beautiful hair spread out into a thick tent down her shoulders. She wore a dark pair of designer sunglasses. Gucci or something. She had money or knew people with money. The background was a big grassy backyard, with expensive looking furniture. She was lying on some landscaped rocks looking wet and sexy.
Thankfully, there's Google and Facebook, and this chick, beside not being able to write a 2-page fuck story, gave me her real name. I copy-pasted 'Brooke Anne Jackson' into the search bar and presto, my chocolate cupcake bunny came up top of my search results. Facebook, MySpace, Twitter. She had no sense.
She was in college, Purdue according to the banner hanging on the wall. She had a bunch of white girlfriends hanging on to her. They wore little gold and gray shorts. They stuck out their tongues, posing like Charlie's Angels, and slapped each others asses. These pictures were tamer than what I had in my email, but that was the same skanky chick.
I wrote her back.
Hi, thanks for the email and the letters. I very much enjoy writing sex stories. I appreciate your interest in having me write one about you. I can think of all sorts of fun scenarios. As you know, it takes time and talent to write a good story. I know you can appreciate that. My word rates are very reasonable. I charge 10 cents a word. Most of my stories run no longer than 4,000 words. At the high end, and this is just the high-end, we're talking no more than 400 bucks. Let me know what you think. Thanks for the pictures, by the way.
Sincerely, AntaeusQ.
I turned my iPhone to vibrate on new emails.
She wrote: Thanks for writing back. I would love for you to write me a story. But, I was just thinking it would be something between you and me. I wouldn't want it posted all over the Internet. I've seen your work in every sex story site online. I know you get around. Also, I can't pay you anything. I'm in college, remember? Love, Brooke.
She attached more pictures.
There was a really nice looking Mexican girl pulling down her sweats. She reminded me of my slut girlfriend from college, right down to her meaty brown thighs.
This is my friend, Carla, she said. She likes to piss in my mouth.
I guess that's what the young kids are doing.
Carla was short and stocky but she gave my boner the warm fuzzies. She was lying down on a bed, purple lacy bra and her chubby legs spread wide open. Her gash was hairy on top and then long and grayish brown. The line of her cunt merged with her ass. She looked like a little fuck monster.
I tugged vigorously on my cock, but kept it together. I had an email to write.
Thanks for your reply, Brooke. Thanks for the pictures. You're a gorgeous woman. I'd love to write you a story and give you a good fucking, too, but I'm, unfortunately, busy writing out my own ideas. I'd have to get paid for my efforts. I'm sorry. Thanks and good luck.
She wrote me back the next day.
I think we can work something out. Don't give up.
She told me to meet her on Yahoo chat later that night. We hooked up and started typing away.
Hi. Hi. How you doing? How's school?
So, you still want me to write you a story?
Yes. Use my name, Brooke. I get off seeing my name in a story.
So, this was not her first time reaching out.
But you can't pay, right?
Right.
So, listen, I appreciate your interest in my work, but I can't work for free. I've got to eat.
Wait. How about we try something. Do you really live in Portland?
Yeah, that's why I write about Portland all the time. Best place in the world. Ever been? Nice weather, close to the falls, good place to live. Why?
Well, I have friends that go to school in Eugene. I go there a couple times a year. If you write me a story, I could maybe make it worth your while. I can bring a friend. You can eat us out.
And maybe something more?
What do you have in mind, dirty boy?
I have this dick. Let's just say I'd want to fuck that tight brown pussy.
Oh, you can fuck me all over, master.
Fuck me.
How old are you by the way, exactly? I'm thinking you're not too old.
Mid 30s.
You ever been with a black girl, before?
No, I haven't. White, Asian, Mexican, Puerto Rican. No Negroes.
Blacks, she corrected me.
Sorry, blacks.
So what do you think? Can you write me a hot story and email it to me. Just me, remember. I want to read it, knowing it was written with me in mind. Maybe write my friends into it. Carla and I want to be immortalized.
I'll have to think about it. I unzipped my pants and started jacking my cock hard.
We said our goodbyes and disconnected. I brought up her pictures, and grabbed some paper towels. Quality time. I ended up jerking semen all over my keyboard. Shit. I had to clean it up.
I went to sleep with my iPhone. Like clockwork, she emailed me.
She repeated that she was a great fan, and what it would mean to her. She stroked my ego. I stroked my cock. She attached more pictures. She showed me the pucker of her asshole, she laid out her collection of thongs, myriad dildos, and a bunch of other rubber junk. There were pictures of some of her white girlfriends. One of them was this skinny chick lipstick tagged with the words slut on her tits. She looked out sideways with a wide open mouth. She wore a nice blue dress. There were some bathroom pics. Brooke in pink bra, blue panties, no panties, no bra, a big curly bush, closeups of her pussy. Her pink labia was like a slotted cut into her dark flesh.
I jerked and shot another load into my boxers. I closed my tired eyes, fell asleep and dreamed about my first piece of chocolate.
The next day, before I went to work, I emailed Ms. Jackson.
It's a deal. We'll talk details later. Can't wait.
I wrote up some ideas on the bus. Too many. I stopped typing and got my mind off the sex. I opened up a collection of short stories and read one about a guy and a girl pulling on a baby. Shit. I started typing, again.
I got an email from Brooke later that morning. She attached a picture of her cute face giving me a kiss. I was distracted for the rest of the day. I walked around the office with a boner in my pants.
I got on the bus and started writing her story.
I decided to write about the time she bought her car and the salesgirl cut 1000 bucks off the price, all for sucking the salesgirl's cunt. White girl on black. Pussy, fingers, bumping pussies, black thighs, white ass. A straight stroke story. Sloppy and nasty. I put extra effort into making it good. I was getting paid, after all.
It took me five days to write and edit. She emailed me everyday with a new set of pictures. Brooke kept me inspired. Then, out of the blue, she dropped a surprise. She was going to be in Eugene the following weekend.
I finished the story in lust driven fury. I emailed it to her after midnight.
I was having a great time leading up to her arrival. I was alive with anticipation. And then, the emails stopped. Maybe she was on vacation. I asked her what was going on. I got nothing back for a whole week. Nothing.
And she had my story.
I knew there was a chance of this happening. I had it figured out, though. I went on Facebook and brought up her profile. I swear, stupid college kids.
I scanned her Facebook contacts and I started sending friend requests to all of her people. They wouldn't know who I was, of course. They'd think they met me at a bar, maybe at some frat, and was reconnecting. A couple of them accepted my requests. From there, I sent her pictures into the wild. She was fucked. There are no barriers on the Internet. How far something goes depends on how far you throw it.
Her response was as scathing and nasty as you'd expect. I corrected the misspellings and shit grammar:
Mother fucker. Fuck you and your mother fucking stories. You are an evil pathetic dickless little worm. You probably don't even have a dick to piss with. There would have been no need for me to turn you, because I know what you are. A little dickless bitch. I fuck assholes like you with my clit. I smack mother fuckers like you. I shit on mother fuckers like you. I step and spit on mother fuckers like you. So fuck you, suck my clit, and kiss my big black ass, because that's all you'll ever get from me. Bitch.
Nice.
I posted my story and went to sleep. Next day, people started emailing me about Brooke Anne Jackson. I filled in the details and sent them her pictures. I was surprised at what happened next. I'll tell you.
My readers started sending me pictures of their wives and girlfriends. From all over the world. How's that for a twist? I walked around with my phone on vibrate, just waiting for the next generous reader email. Private porn streamed into my in-box. White pussy, black pussy, Asian pussy. Pussy, pussy, pussy. And requests for stories. Not quite my magic ten cents a word, but good money, still.
Thanks Brooke.
That wasn't the last I ever heard of Brooke, and her fucked up friends. Not by a long shot. I kept writing stories and thinking about her. Months later, she emailed me. She apologized. She made no excuses. She wanted to make it up to me, so she started sending me ideas and story outlines, and of course, more pictures.
When we finally got around to it, we arranged to meet at a hotel. I saw her from across the lobby. She was a little older, but still very beautiful, and she was pregnant, too. I walked over to her and gave her a hug. She squeezed my balls.
When we got to our suite, I heard her speak.
Baby, she said.
She pulled down her pants before I ever turned on the lights. She was thicker than ever. I dropped to my knees and buried my face in her pregnant cunt. She clawed my hair. I drank her juices. She smelled of coconut and peat. I made her cum on my face. Her big round stomach hid me from her dark eyes.
That night, I fucked her from behind and jerked all over her stretched stomach. I sucked and swallowed her titty milk. She called me, daddy. She hollered and screamed. Our neighbors banged on the wall. Finally, I plunged deep into her cunt and came all over her uterus. My eyes rolled and I collapsed. She sucked my dick clean, and fell asleep with her face in my crotch and her hands on my ass.
After that night, we got together many more times. Let's just say she more than settled her tab.
Well, that's it for now. If you want to know more, just let me know. I'm available and I have very reasonable rates.
And keep those pictures coming!
She came right out and asked. Her spelling was gruesome.
I want you to write a story about me. I'm a 19 year old college student. I'm bi, I turned 2 of my high school friends into pussy loving lesbians. I even seduced one of their mothers. I have pierced nipples and I'm thinking about getting a ring on my clit. I love to tease, it makes the fuck so much hotter. I like swimming naked in my pool and walking around sweaty in my Sunday dress with nothing underneath. It drives my dad crazy. I know I remind him of my mom.
Fucking-a. I've been spammed. That's what happens when you hang around Internet sex sites.
I wrote 'her' back. Ha, ha. See you in the funny pages. Who knows maybe it was a lonely fat white guy with a little penis. Or maybe it really was a hot young chick.
She replied, I'm for real. I love your stuff on alt.stories. Your stories are hot. I'm a natural girl. I have it where it counts. I know you like that in a woman. I respect a man that appreciates curves. You'll love writing about me.
She told me she had read all my stories.
I like you're portrayal of sex. I like how you describe a woman's thigh and ass, the licking of the pussy, when the guys grabbing this and that and then fucking them. I like the trick endings, too. Write me a story. I've attached some pictures to give you some ideas.
As if the crazy fan mail wasn't enough. Now, I'm getting dirty pictures in my mail box.
I opened up the attachments.
I was expecting some crazy looking white chick. I've dated a few of those.
This was a regular chocolate bunny piece of dark meat. She wore two different white string bikinis in her photo sets. She was thick, and I'm not talking thick like pudding, more like a juicy piece of sizzling pan fried mutton. Her belly was curvy and wide, she wasn't even trying to squeeze anything in. Her tits hung low and her ass was fat. Now, everyone that reads my stuff knows I like me chunky chicks just fine. This was just amazing.
She had a wide flat nose. Frizzy, Afro-beautiful hair spread out into a thick tent down her shoulders. She wore a dark pair of designer sunglasses. Gucci or something. She had money or knew people with money. The background was a big grassy backyard, with expensive looking furniture. She was lying on some landscaped rocks looking wet and sexy.
Thankfully, there's Google and Facebook, and this chick, beside not being able to write a 2-page fuck story, gave me her real name. I copy-pasted 'Brooke Anne Jackson' into the search bar and presto, my chocolate cupcake bunny came up top of my search results. Facebook, MySpace, Twitter. She had no sense.
She was in college, Purdue according to the banner hanging on the wall. She had a bunch of white girlfriends hanging on to her. They wore little gold and gray shorts. They stuck out their tongues, posing like Charlie's Angels, and slapped each others asses. These pictures were tamer than what I had in my email, but that was the same skanky chick.
I wrote her back.
Hi, thanks for the email and the letters. I very much enjoy writing sex stories. I appreciate your interest in having me write one about you. I can think of all sorts of fun scenarios. As you know, it takes time and talent to write a good story. I know you can appreciate that. My word rates are very reasonable. I charge 10 cents a word. Most of my stories run no longer than 4,000 words. At the high end, and this is just the high-end, we're talking no more than 400 bucks. Let me know what you think. Thanks for the pictures, by the way.
Sincerely, AntaeusQ.
I turned my iPhone to vibrate on new emails.
She wrote: Thanks for writing back. I would love for you to write me a story. But, I was just thinking it would be something between you and me. I wouldn't want it posted all over the Internet. I've seen your work in every sex story site online. I know you get around. Also, I can't pay you anything. I'm in college, remember? Love, Brooke.
She attached more pictures.
There was a really nice looking Mexican girl pulling down her sweats. She reminded me of my slut girlfriend from college, right down to her meaty brown thighs.
This is my friend, Carla, she said. She likes to piss in my mouth.
I guess that's what the young kids are doing.
Carla was short and stocky but she gave my boner the warm fuzzies. She was lying down on a bed, purple lacy bra and her chubby legs spread wide open. Her gash was hairy on top and then long and grayish brown. The line of her cunt merged with her ass. She looked like a little fuck monster.
I tugged vigorously on my cock, but kept it together. I had an email to write.
Thanks for your reply, Brooke. Thanks for the pictures. You're a gorgeous woman. I'd love to write you a story and give you a good fucking, too, but I'm, unfortunately, busy writing out my own ideas. I'd have to get paid for my efforts. I'm sorry. Thanks and good luck.
She wrote me back the next day.
I think we can work something out. Don't give up.
She told me to meet her on Yahoo chat later that night. We hooked up and started typing away.
Hi. Hi. How you doing? How's school?
So, you still want me to write you a story?
Yes. Use my name, Brooke. I get off seeing my name in a story.
So, this was not her first time reaching out.
But you can't pay, right?
Right.
So, listen, I appreciate your interest in my work, but I can't work for free. I've got to eat.
Wait. How about we try something. Do you really live in Portland?
Yeah, that's why I write about Portland all the time. Best place in the world. Ever been? Nice weather, close to the falls, good place to live. Why?
Well, I have friends that go to school in Eugene. I go there a couple times a year. If you write me a story, I could maybe make it worth your while. I can bring a friend. You can eat us out.
And maybe something more?
What do you have in mind, dirty boy?
I have this dick. Let's just say I'd want to fuck that tight brown pussy.
Oh, you can fuck me all over, master.
Fuck me.
How old are you by the way, exactly? I'm thinking you're not too old.
Mid 30s.
You ever been with a black girl, before?
No, I haven't. White, Asian, Mexican, Puerto Rican. No Negroes.
Blacks, she corrected me.
Sorry, blacks.
So what do you think? Can you write me a hot story and email it to me. Just me, remember. I want to read it, knowing it was written with me in mind. Maybe write my friends into it. Carla and I want to be immortalized.
I'll have to think about it. I unzipped my pants and started jacking my cock hard.
We said our goodbyes and disconnected. I brought up her pictures, and grabbed some paper towels. Quality time. I ended up jerking semen all over my keyboard. Shit. I had to clean it up.
I went to sleep with my iPhone. Like clockwork, she emailed me.
She repeated that she was a great fan, and what it would mean to her. She stroked my ego. I stroked my cock. She attached more pictures. She showed me the pucker of her asshole, she laid out her collection of thongs, myriad dildos, and a bunch of other rubber junk. There were pictures of some of her white girlfriends. One of them was this skinny chick lipstick tagged with the words slut on her tits. She looked out sideways with a wide open mouth. She wore a nice blue dress. There were some bathroom pics. Brooke in pink bra, blue panties, no panties, no bra, a big curly bush, closeups of her pussy. Her pink labia was like a slotted cut into her dark flesh.
I jerked and shot another load into my boxers. I closed my tired eyes, fell asleep and dreamed about my first piece of chocolate.
The next day, before I went to work, I emailed Ms. Jackson.
It's a deal. We'll talk details later. Can't wait.
I wrote up some ideas on the bus. Too many. I stopped typing and got my mind off the sex. I opened up a collection of short stories and read one about a guy and a girl pulling on a baby. Shit. I started typing, again.
I got an email from Brooke later that morning. She attached a picture of her cute face giving me a kiss. I was distracted for the rest of the day. I walked around the office with a boner in my pants.
I got on the bus and started writing her story.
I decided to write about the time she bought her car and the salesgirl cut 1000 bucks off the price, all for sucking the salesgirl's cunt. White girl on black. Pussy, fingers, bumping pussies, black thighs, white ass. A straight stroke story. Sloppy and nasty. I put extra effort into making it good. I was getting paid, after all.
It took me five days to write and edit. She emailed me everyday with a new set of pictures. Brooke kept me inspired. Then, out of the blue, she dropped a surprise. She was going to be in Eugene the following weekend.
I finished the story in lust driven fury. I emailed it to her after midnight.
I was having a great time leading up to her arrival. I was alive with anticipation. And then, the emails stopped. Maybe she was on vacation. I asked her what was going on. I got nothing back for a whole week. Nothing.
And she had my story.
I knew there was a chance of this happening. I had it figured out, though. I went on Facebook and brought up her profile. I swear, stupid college kids.
I scanned her Facebook contacts and I started sending friend requests to all of her people. They wouldn't know who I was, of course. They'd think they met me at a bar, maybe at some frat, and was reconnecting. A couple of them accepted my requests. From there, I sent her pictures into the wild. She was fucked. There are no barriers on the Internet. How far something goes depends on how far you throw it.
Her response was as scathing and nasty as you'd expect. I corrected the misspellings and shit grammar:
Mother fucker. Fuck you and your mother fucking stories. You are an evil pathetic dickless little worm. You probably don't even have a dick to piss with. There would have been no need for me to turn you, because I know what you are. A little dickless bitch. I fuck assholes like you with my clit. I smack mother fuckers like you. I shit on mother fuckers like you. I step and spit on mother fuckers like you. So fuck you, suck my clit, and kiss my big black ass, because that's all you'll ever get from me. Bitch.
Nice.
I posted my story and went to sleep. Next day, people started emailing me about Brooke Anne Jackson. I filled in the details and sent them her pictures. I was surprised at what happened next. I'll tell you.
My readers started sending me pictures of their wives and girlfriends. From all over the world. How's that for a twist? I walked around with my phone on vibrate, just waiting for the next generous reader email. Private porn streamed into my in-box. White pussy, black pussy, Asian pussy. Pussy, pussy, pussy. And requests for stories. Not quite my magic ten cents a word, but good money, still.
Thanks Brooke.
That wasn't the last I ever heard of Brooke, and her fucked up friends. Not by a long shot. I kept writing stories and thinking about her. Months later, she emailed me. She apologized. She made no excuses. She wanted to make it up to me, so she started sending me ideas and story outlines, and of course, more pictures.
When we finally got around to it, we arranged to meet at a hotel. I saw her from across the lobby. She was a little older, but still very beautiful, and she was pregnant, too. I walked over to her and gave her a hug. She squeezed my balls.
When we got to our suite, I heard her speak.
Baby, she said.
She pulled down her pants before I ever turned on the lights. She was thicker than ever. I dropped to my knees and buried my face in her pregnant cunt. She clawed my hair. I drank her juices. She smelled of coconut and peat. I made her cum on my face. Her big round stomach hid me from her dark eyes.
That night, I fucked her from behind and jerked all over her stretched stomach. I sucked and swallowed her titty milk. She called me, daddy. She hollered and screamed. Our neighbors banged on the wall. Finally, I plunged deep into her cunt and came all over her uterus. My eyes rolled and I collapsed. She sucked my dick clean, and fell asleep with her face in my crotch and her hands on my ass.
After that night, we got together many more times. Let's just say she more than settled her tab.
Well, that's it for now. If you want to know more, just let me know. I'm available and I have very reasonable rates.
And keep those pictures coming!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Note: About Tina
I'm disappointed in this one. I meant well, but it got out of control. It's what happens when you take your first story, 'the condo' try to improve it -- i think parts are much better-- and cut into it. new intro, better dialog, and then it gets too long (the time in the condo before the bathroom) and you make new mistakes, bad pacing, rush to print (always), and then splat. Well, if I learned something from it, the experience was worth it. I'll revisit this one in the future, maybe start from scratch.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Message: Thanks to everyone that's read/commented
It's a great pleasure knowing someone is enjoying what I'm writing. Every email I get is encouragement to continue and to do better.
I get lots of ideas from the people that write me. Don't be surprised if you end up in my stories!
I get lots of ideas from the people that write me. Don't be surprised if you end up in my stories!
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