Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Also gratifying is that more people read this site than ever before. I don't look at the statcounter data very often but I did notice that readership went up (higher than I could imagine possible) in September, October, and November. A couple of the people who found me through Love Boudoir and fleshbot have stuck around. I don't make it easy: I closed comments months ago. I don't post regularly. And, I have a picture of a guy in a suit and tie right at the top of the page which causes about 95% of males who find the place to head elsewhere immediately.
Still, I like to think I offer a good value for your time spent--a clean, well-lighted site where you can think very dirty thoughts with no advertising getting in the way. It helps that Riff Dog periodically drives traffic my way, while readers of The Sexy PTA mom, Eva, The Suburban Hotwife , and many others seem to come this way too. Bless their hearts. Also, I seem to get lots of traffic from people who search google for "cock whipping". Go figure.
Right after Christmas I plan to finish telling you about Mona so I can write about Sparkle and Ann. But, right now, you're too busy. Shopping, decorating, planning and going to parties-- hell, who has time to read? In fact a dear friend sent me pictures from her Christmas party. It looks like she had a great time! Sorry I missed it.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Getting undressed she looked at the full length mirror. He had told her she looked better than she ever had but she wasn’t sure of that. She had lost over ten pounds so far this year. She looked at her flat stomach and trim waist and was pleased. She took off her bra and grimaced. “Why can’t you lose ten pounds without five of it being from your boobs?” she thought. Six months ago her bras were all 36C’s or 34D’s-- depending on brand and fit. If someone wanted to know her size she probably would’ve said 34B because she was the type of person who would think telling someone she had D cup boobies was bragging. She was modest that way. But looking at herself in the mirror she wished she could have 36D’s without gaining any pounds. Or maybe 38D's-- she knew he loved big, full titties. But more than that, she liked the way she looked in sweaters and tee’s when she had more up top. Oh well. The size 36 bras never left the drawer anymore. She wondered if she should buy new ones that fit better, but her frugal nature and the fear that she would soon regain the lost weight kept her from splurging.
Gazing at the mirror she realized that she really liked the way her hair looked now. The little bit of gray was all gone. It had been years since she last colored her hair but she was so glad she had finally done it again. He kept telling her she should. She had resisted but finally went ahead. It had been the right idea. She brushed it and felt good that it was still thick and full. She turned to look at her profile. Still had that bubble ass—way back in high school the black guys told her she had an ass like a sister. She liked the idea better now than she did then. All in all she thought she was doing OK for her age (although she'd never say that to anyone.) Certainly he wasn’t complaining, and she still got a few looks from the men at work.
But she was so damn tired. Always so damn tired. It took until Sunday afternoon to feel rested and then it was time to go back to work. She usually got a good fucking on Saturday night, slept late on Sunday, and went back to work Monday morning pleased with things. But it was a long time between Saturdays. A few years ago it was no big deal to her, what with little kids and all. But now for some reason she needed it more than when she was in her early 30’s. She was really bad at asking for sex-- not even good at hinting at it. She knew that he was aware of how tired she was and waiting until Saturday was probably his way of being nice to her. But, when they were young they went at it twice a day damn near every day. She missed that—when she wasn’t too tired to even think about it.
She put on a clean pair of white cotton panties and a big oversize t-shirt. She didn’t like to sleep in the nude. For some reason she slept better with panties on. Security? Protection? She had no idea why—it was just the way she was. There was no point putting anything sexier on—it was a week night after all. She brushed her teeth, rinsed with Scope, and went into the bedroom. She flipped through the channels on the satellite and finally left it on Discovery Health. She knew she’d be asleep in minutes and the TV was more a night light for him when he came to bed in a couple hours than sleep time entertainment for her. The clock was set for 5:30. She pulled up the plunger on top. Sleep came in seconds.
She woke as his left hand slid over her tummy and inside her panties. She was on her right side facing the nightstand. She felt him spooned up against her. She wondered what time it was, blinked her eyes to see the clock: 4:28. An hour before the alarm, which stunk, but then again she had gotten a full eight hours. She pushed her round ass back into him just a bit, letting him know she was awake and interested. He pulled his hand from her panties, quickly pulled the big t-shirt off of her and threw it across the room like it had offended him. She knew from the way he undressed her that he was going to take her. She wasn’t against the idea—in fact she was warming to it quickly.
He cupped her left breast with his left hand as his right arm went under her neck. He played with her tits for a while. Pinching her nipples. Flicking them with his fingers. Squeezing the entire breast firmly. One, then the other. She slid a hand between her legs as he fondled her. He flexed his right arm so that his hand was now in her hair. Stroking it. Combing through it with his fingers. His breath was just behind her left ear. She could hear the low, deep growl that she’d heard so many times before. It never got old since it signaled his desire for her. She kept her right hand in her panties and reached behind her for his cock with her left. She got it on the first try and grasped at its firm length. He took his left hand away from her breast, grabbed her arm and put it back in front of her.
He rolled onto his back and brought her along so that she was on her back on top of him. He maneuvered her so that her ass was down between his open legs, his hard cock against her spine from the small of her back and pointing towards her head. She got her hands on the bed so she was up off him a little and he took her hair in both hands and smoothed it back. Time after time he ran his hands through her hair drawing it back. Then he pulled it tightly into a ponytail and tied it. She could tell it was tied, but didn’t know what he had used. He didn’t have any clothes on so it wasn’t something from his pocket. He must have gone to bed planning to do this she thought… maybe he put a rubber band from the junk drawer down in the kitchen on his wrist before he came up to bed-- knowing he was going to do this to her. But then her thoughts escaped elsewhere as he put both of his hands back on her tits. As if she didn’t think they'd shrunk enough, here she was flat on her back on top of his chest. God he must think they’ve disappeared. But it felt so good the way he grabbed at them and handled them so roughly.
He pushed her back down between his legs and sat her up on the bed. He was sitting right behind her with his legs spread apart around her, his feet on the bed and knees flexed. He pulled her head back by her brand new ponytail while pressing between her shoulder blades so that she was soon looking straight at the ceiling. Her hair was long enough that he could get a wrap of it around his left hand. With his free right hand he slapped her tits from below, one after the other. He just grazed her each time so his hand caught mostly nipple. Then he took that free hand and brought it to her neck. Her head was back, her eyes closed as he took her neck firmly in his hand. His breath was at her right ear. Neither one of them said a word. She didn’t need her hands for balance and she knew she wasn’t supposed to try to grab for his cock so she slid a hand in her plain white cotton panties and fingered her wet snatch. She was closely trimmed but not shaved bald. Her lips felt so full and warm as she played with her slippery self. He took his hand off her neck, placed his palm against her chin, and fed her three fingers one at a time.
They went at it this way for a while. Her fingers working her pussy-- his fingers probing her mouth. She sucked at them every time he teased her lips and tongue with them. She could feel that hard dick against her back when he whispered into her right ear, “What do you want, baby?”
“Fuck me,” she said in a voice that was more air than sound.
He let go of her ponytail and reached around her to get at her panties. She pulled her hand back out of the way. He got the white cotton front in both fists and pulled in opposite directions. The fabric tore from the waistband to the crotch. He got his hands under her ass and gathered up the torn panties and kept ripping them until the tear went from front to back stopped only by the elastic waistband. Then he moved out from behind her, pushed her back onto the pillows, and got between her legs, the shredded panties offering no barrier to her soaked cunt. He ran the head of his cock south to north in her slit. She gushed. He drove it all the way in and fucked her harder than he had in months.
Friday, December 4, 2009
There was no such thing as home video back then. There was no paid cable or satellite TV. To see two people having sex one had to go to a 25 cent peep show/ skin mag shop in a rough part of town or to an “art house” movie theater. I’d never done anything like that. I figure that today, by the time a twenty-something has group sex, assuming the situation raises its head, he’s seen it on his TV, laptop—hell, maybe on his fuckin’ telephone. But in that era? Nope. Suddenly I was a stranger in a strange land of sexual adventure. I believe the first time I ever saw a cock that wasn’t mine go into a girl was that day. Way to go Chet.
If you had come up to me that night and said, “Wil, one day you will write about this evening’s experience at Mona’s little house and people anywhere in the world will be able to read your words while looking at a hand held telephone,” I would have… well, you get the picture. We live in amazing times.
I found a big, thick towel in a drawer in her bathroom, dried off, and knotted it around my waist. I padded out to the kitchen, got a beer, and sat down at the kitchen table. I would’ve been more comfortable in the living room but the towel was damp and I didn’t want to mess up the furniture. I'm a considerate guest in someone's home, after all.
I heard doors opening and closing in the other end of the house and then I heard the shower start again. Moments later Chet walked into the kitchen. Thankfully he had pulled his pants on before leaving the bedroom.
“I told ya, huh…” he said.
“Yep,” I said.
He got a beer and headed out to the living room. I could hear him torching up moments before the smell rolled into the kitchen. I was starting to think it was time for me to head down the road.
“Hey, Willie, c’mon out here, man,” Chet said.
I walked out into the living room with the towel still around my waist. He passed the number to me. I waved him off. He shrugged and took another hit.
“I think I’ll get going,” I said.
“Better hang in for a little longer, man,” he said, “Mo would be pissed if you left without saying bye anyway. Can't piss off the hostess.”
I finished my beer, walked out to the kitchen and tossed the bottle in the trash. Then I walked back to the bedroom, hung the damp towel on the closet doorknob and put on my underwear and pants. I heard the bathroom door open and then the two of them talking, although I couldn’t tell what was being said. Then I heard the bathroom door close again and, faintly, the shower running. Chet must be getting rinsed off. I had started a trend I guess.
Mona walked in wearing the blue robe that barely covered her ass.
“Why are you getting dressed, sweetie?”
“I figured it was about time I got on my way,” I said.
She made her pouty face. “Not yet, please… just stay another 45 minutes or so, OK?”
I sat down in the chair and put my feet up on the ottoman. I had my pants on but was shirtless. I could hear the shower running and assumed Chet couldn’t hear us.
“Is this what you wanted, Mona?”
“Aren’t you having fun?” she said.
“Yeah, it’s fun. I’m not sure it wouldn’t be more fun if it was just the two of us... I just wondered if it was going the way you wanted... not saying I wasn't enjoying myself...”
She moved so she was sitting on the bed near me. She leaned forward and said very quietly, “Invite me down to your place for the weekend.”
The shower stopped.
I looked up at her from the big chair, “When?” I said.
“You’re invited,” I said.
Chet walked into the room as I remembered that Ann was supposed to be coming down to see me the next weekend. Oh well, the logistics could be worked out. Chet hadn’t bothered to put his pants back on. He took all of the pillows off the bed and tossed them on the floor at the foot of the bed. Then he walked over to Mona and put his hand out. She took his hand and he helped her to her feet, led her to the pillows, untied her robe, and took it off her. As he tossed it on the bed Mona went to her knees, holding onto the bedpost as she did. She started stroking his cock. Soon he was hard and she was licking his dick. He waved me over and I positioned myself 180 degrees from where Chet was. I watched her body as I stroked my dick. Looking at Chester’s member wasn’t going to aid erection. When I had a nice stiffy going I put my hand on her shoulder. She pulled off Chet and turned my way. Her flashing eyes locked on mine. She gave me a faint little smile. Then she ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip before sliding my shaft into her warm mouth.
She worked away on both of us. We'd both cum so much already that she had her work cut out for her. She was up to the challenge though. Mona was an insatiable little cockhound.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Then Chet drove slow and deep into her about a half dozen times, held the last push for a while, and abruptly pulled out and left the room. He had told me the only ground rule was that he got first crack at her pussy. I assumed that we had just moved into the realm of “fair game” so I moved behind her and slid the head of my cock into that hot slit he had just left. With my right hand I worked my cockhead up and down through her thick, dark bush. I didn’t know whether she was soaked from her own juice or if Chet had shot a huge load into her, and I didn’t care. I squeezed her nice round ass with my left hand, gave it a sharp smack, and plowed my full length into her in a stroke.
She had sucked my cock hard while Chet was fucking her but I hadn’t felt a cumload welling up and I knew I could last a while now that I was buried in her snatch. Every so often I would give her ass a good smack as I kept pounding away at her. At this point it was less like a threesome and more like a two man gangbang—it seemed like we were taking turns.
I had her ass at the edge of the bed and was banging into her hard and fast when Chet came back into the room. He got to the edge of the bed where I had been standing originally and stroked his cock as he watched her getting fucked. When he was hard he turned her head to face his meat. He cock slapped her left cheek over and over. She had her mouth open but he wouldn’t feed that dick to her. He kept slapping her face and lips with his stiff cock until he finally grabbed her hair in his left hand and pushed his cock to her mouth with his right.
The view of that was so hot I blew my load deep in her cunt almost immediately.
After my balls were drained in her I pulled my dripping cock out and took a couple steps back.
“You wanted to get it from two guys at once, didn’t you slut…” Chet said as he grabbed her right leg and spun her around at the corner of the bed like she was on a lazy Susan.
I hadn’t been out of her pussy a minute before he was right back in it.
Mona was screaming and grabbing at the sheets on either side of her. She was on her back, her legs straight in the air and spread apart with her toes pointed to the sky. Chet was slam fucking her like a beast when I went down the hall to the bathroom to get cleaned up a bit.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
We both watched her leave the room and then Chet looked at me, “Willie, that is one hot piece-a-ass. You have no idea what you’re getting into tonight. This isn’t like some college chick at a frat party.”
“I’m not in a frat,” I said.
“Well, you know what I mean.”
I did. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out after all. I was going to be around him all night, not just Mona, and I didn’t think we would get along. We weren’t even from the same generation.
Chet got us both a beer from the kitchen and we sat in the living room drinking and chatting. He started to seem like an OK guy. We talked about sports, cars, colleges, and then he asked about Sharon. Obviously he had met her when he met me back in August. That conversation was uncomfortable only in that I didn’t want to say anything about Mona and she was pretty well linked to Sharon in my world—at least up until a week ago.
He recalled that Sharon was “cute enough”, but had “a great fuckin’ body.” I figured that the best way to keep from saying anything about Mona was to keep talking about Sharon. So I told him a few things—not as much as I’ve told you, of course, dear reader(s).
“She didn’t really enjoy sucking my cock,” I said.
“Seriously? Is that it? I thought Mona said she broke up with you?” he said.
“Well, Chet, I didn’t mean that I broke up with her because she wouldn’t—I meant she broke up with me because I always wanted her to suck my cock,” I said.
He laughed, knowing I was bullshitting him. He was alright, I guess. Kind of like the dirty old uncle I didn't need.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that tonight, buddy.”
I damn near said the wrong thing by affirming my knowledge of Mona’s oral techniques.
“I like the sound of that,” I said.
“Before she gets out here let’s go over a few things. Have you ever done anything like this before?”
I told him I hadn’t.
“Well here’s the deal. She’s been beggin’ for this. Hell, she wanted me to get a couple of my friends over to my place to gangbang her. No way I was gonna let any of my buddies get any! I’m tellin’ you, she’s wild as hell,” he said.
He grinned at me.
“Anyway. As far as I’m concerned there’s only one ground rule. I get her pussy first,” he said.
“That’s it?” I said.
“Yep. That’s it. I’m in first. After that, go for it. But, man, just keep after her. I’ll bet the two of us together can’t wear her out. I’m tellin’ ya, she’s a fuckin’ wildcat,” Chet said.
My blood was up. The idea of double teaming Mona had finally locked in for me. I was ready. Chet went out to the refrigerator and got us each another beer. We had just started to drink when we heard Mona coming down the hall. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her. She was wearing the long black dress I had helped her pick out back in August. Necklace, earrings, heels… she was stunning. I had expected her to come out in lingerie so her appearance really threw me.
She came over and sat between us—slightly closer to Chet.
“Mona, I think you should move over there and get to know Wil a little bit better,” Chet said.
“Good idea,” she said with a dirty grin.
She moved right up against me and we kissed. Soon my right hand began to explore her from her left thigh up to her left breast. I could feel her erect nipple through the shiny black fabric. Our tongues were soon darting into each other’s mouths. I remembered what she had said to me when she wanted me to pick out that dress in the mall in Louisville. I was afraid Chet would think the apparent suddenness of our passion was odd. But he was firing up a joint and not really concerned.
Mona had a couple hits and soon we were all off to her bedroom. Chet sat down in the chair as I took Mona’s dress off her. I took her down to nothing but a tiny black g-string, black high heels, jewelry, and perfume. Chet stood up and pulled his shirt off, unbuckled, and got out of his clothes. As soon as he started down that path I got undressed too. He bent Mona over. She put her hands on the corner of the bed and he slowly put his cock into her pussy from behind. I had been concerned that it would be difficult to have an erection around another guy. But, I just concentrated on Mona and it didn’t seem to be an issue. I stepped closer and she lifted one hand off the bed, stroked my dick a couple times, and then took me into her mouth. My hands went to her black hair and I fed her more cock as Chet began to drive into her from behind.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
“You didn’t miss anything, sweetie. Yeah, a three-way. You, me and Chet,” Mona said.
“Yeah,” she said, thankfully leaving off the “you dummy” part.
“I mean about me, not does he know what a three way is…”
She laughed at me.
“Yeah. I mean he doesn’t know that you would be the other guy for sure but he knows I was thinking about asking you.”
“So, this past week, I’ve been auditioning?”
“No! Not like that... I mean... here’s the thing Wil... Chet knows I have this fantasy of, ya know, havin’ more than one guy at a time. And he thinks it sounds like a lot of fun. But he suggested a couple of his friends and I just don’t want to do that,” she said.
“I dunno, I guess I don’t like the idea of him and his buddies talkin’ about it over beers some day. Ya know? I wanted it to be somebody I already wanted to fuck anyway,” Mona said, “and he’s met you, and thought it would be OK if that’s what I wanted.”
I kinda felt like my head might explode. I never saw this coming. Hell, I never saw her call to get together over spring break coming either, but this was completely mind-boggling. Now, you might think I’m kidding, but I didn’t really want to do it. Chet was at least ten years older than me—at least. Mona was somewhere in between our two ages—frankly I felt like I would be the third wheel and like a kid at an "adults only" party. No, I was pretty uneasy about the idea at the time. Now, of course, as I look back I want to tell that college kid idiot to wake up.
“I don't know, Mona. I feel pretty weird about it,” I said.
“Why sweetie? We’ve been having fun this week. You’d have fun Saturday night too, I promise.”
Mona looked at me with a pouty look. She knew I was going to say “no thank you.” She said, very softly, “Wil, I want to feel your hard cock in my mouth while he’s doin’ me from behind. I want you grabbin’ my titties and my hair and pushin’ me down on your stiff dick while Chet’s fuckin’ me. Won’t you do it for me, sweetie? I want it so bad.”
Well, since she put it that way! You know, I really wouldn't have agreed, but she asked me the right way. I couldn’t disappoint her like that. I had to do my level best.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
“Well, it involved Chet, and, umm, it was a big mess,” she said.
Chet was the older guy (about 10 years older than me) that Mona had gone on the blind date with when we were all in Louisville back in August. I knew he had stayed in the picture, at least for a while, because Mona had a box of joints on her cocktail table that she said came from Chet.
The thought of the two of them having fun all weekend in her bedroom didn’t kill me, but it didn’t make me grin either. I didn’t have the illusion that we were doing anything but fucking around—after all, we’d never even gone out for dinner or a movie. We'd never been out together on a date. Still, it was a visual I didn’t need.
“Back around the holidays I drove down there a couple times. Hung out at his place. It was cool, but I hated driving down there by myself in the winter. Anyway, you remember that he works where she does, right?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Well, somehow she found out from somebody at work that I’d been in Louisville without telling her I was in town… which was probably bad, not telling her, I mean, I can see why she got pissed, but I was going there to see Chet and, well, we decided it would be better to not spend the whole weekend hanging out with other friends.”
“Sure,” I thought, “that would cut into sucking and fucking time.”
I could just imagine that conversation…. "Chet, what did you do this weekend? I did this chick from _____ all fucking weekend that's what I did, pal.”
“Wow, uh, that’s too bad, Mona. You guys went back a long ways. Sorry that happened. I guess Sharon took her sister’s side,” I said.
“I was already mad at her anyway, the way she fucked you over completely pissed me off,” she said.
I kept quiet. So did Mona. We were up against each other, completely naked, under a top sheet.
“Yeah. I’ll leave in the middle of the afternoon.”
“I want to ask you something and I hope you don’t freak out,” she said.
That’s a preamble you don’t necessarily want to hear. Then again, it doesn’t have to mean something bad is coming next.
“Chet’s coming up this weekend. He’ll get in late Friday night.”
Ooof. That landed like a punch to the gut.
“Well, I wondered if you wanted to come over Saturday night and, ya know, have a party with us,” Mona said.
I was speechless for a few beats. Then I said, “I don’t do real well at parties at this house. Besides, I don’t know any of your work friends… and Chet will be here…I mean, I dunno,” I said.
I just stared at her.
She rolled onto me pressing her breasts against my chest. She ran her right hand through my hair.
“C’mon Wilson. Let's have a party. Just the three of us.”
I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I just stared into her eyes which were about five inches from my eyes.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
I watched her go towards the hallway bathroom. She was wearing a black skirt, beige sweater, and heels. It struck me that she always looked good. Even on that long drive to Louisville in her Camaro last year she looked good. Part of it was natural, but part of it was attention to detail. I heard the shower go on and figured she might be a while. I turned on the little TV perched on a shelf in the living room. Little House on the Prairie—hmmm, no. Some drama show about a broken family on another channel--- keep lookin’. That’s My Mama on the other station—I don’t think so. Wednesday night wasn’t good for TV I guess. No Sanford & Son… no Odd Couple…no Bob Newhart. Oh well. I shut it off. I looked for something to read but there weren’t any books in the room. Some magazines were on the cocktail table. Vogue had a cover photo of Bianca Jagger. Might be something worth reading. I flipped through it and it was mostly ads. Pretty ads, but nothing to hold my interest for long. An out-of-date TV Guide with a story about a young actor, Michael Douglas, in a show with Karl Malden. I read enough to know he wasn’t the son of Mike Douglas the talk show host—he was Kirk’s boy. Hell, the show wasn’t even on yet.
Finally, about a half hour after she disappeared, Mona came back in the living room. She was wearing the short, blue, satin robe she had worn back in Louisville that Saturday morning. It had given me a hard-on back then and it hadn't lost any of its magical powers in the intervening months. It just barely covered her ass. She came up to me, leaned over, and gave me a kiss.
“Sorry that took so long, sweetie… I feel a thousand times better though,” she said.
“Good. You smell great, that’s for sure… and you look even better,” I said.
“Thanks sweetie. Let’s not stay out here, OK?” she said.
And off we went to her bedroom. Just like Sunday night it was clean and clutter-free. A couple of nightlights plugged in the wall gave it a warm glow. The bed was turned down and looked very inviting. We stood and kissed standing next to the bed. I had her sit on the edge with her bare feet on the carpeted floor. I gathered up all four pillows and piled them behind her back. I slid the robe out from under her so she wasn’t sitting on it, pulled the belt loose, and opened it. She was wearing dark colored lace panties but no bra. I got on the floor in front of her and slid the panties off, tossing them on the bed as she reclined into the pillows. I spread her knees apart with both hands, then I moved closer and put my finger tips on both sides of the center line of her thick, dark bush.
It strikes me that there could be young men reading this who have been engaging in cunnilingus for over a decade and have never confronted anything resembling a natural pussy. Now I don’t want to sound like the old guy who talks about having to walk five miles to and from school, uphill both ways, every day, but eating pussy is a lot better with today’s feminine grooming styles. I’m sure that Mona, and millions of other girls back then, used scissors to make sure they didn’t have stray pubic hairs peeking out from their bikini bottoms in the summer. But there wasn’t much trimming done beyond that. In fact, if I had removed Mona’s lacy undies and found a smooth bald pussy I would have been shocked and probably would’ve asked her what was wrong. Even the landing strip look wasn’t around when I was “dating” Mona. So, when I say I put my fingers in the center of her thick, dark bush I mean I was on a search mission for the treasure I knew was there, but well hidden.
I parted her lips with my fingers and ran my tongue along both sides of her opening. I tongue-teased her from south to north and back again. Over and over again. I could taste her juices and knew she was warming up to my advances. It was the first time I had eaten her and I was taking my good, sweet time. I knew from Sunday night that she liked rough fucking and she could handle a helluva lot of cock pounding, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like to have some oral attention too.
I sucked on her outer lips until they were full, crimson, and swollen. I slid the middle finger of my right hand in, palm up so I could curl it and work it along the front wall inside her warmth. With a finger in her I concentrated my lips and tongue on the north end of her opening. All along Mona had let me know how things were working out with her moans and groans and sighs and gasps. When I got on her hot button with my mouth she pulled her knees back towards her head. With my left hand I pressed her right knee even further back. I pulled my finger out and then went right back in with two fingers, twisting inside of her as I lapped, sucked, and nibbled at her just above where my fingers were buried inside her. She put her right hand on top of my left and put her left hand in my hair—pulling me into her. She was panting, and begging for hard cock, but I wasn’t about to stop eating her.
Then I felt a wave go through her. It was like she had given herself over to something. A shudder, and then her hand let go of my hair and I lightened the tongue and mouth pressure while still working my fingers in and out of her—twisting in her with three fingers as far as I could go now. Then her hips bucked a bit, she pushed at my hand and I pulled my fingers out of her wet cunt.
I pulled myself up onto the bed next to her and flopped on my back. I was hard from it all. She rolled over against me and put her hand on my chest.
“Fuck. I never get off from that. Damn.”
“You liked it?” I said.
“Good,” I said.
My erection was starting to go away. I didn’t think that was a good idea. I got up and collected two of the pillows and put one on top of the other a foot or so from the edge of the bed. Then I got Mona off her side and put her face down with the pillows under her tummy. She figured out where it was going and raised up a bit on her knees. I moved her a bit to make sure her pussy was reachable with me standing next to the bed. She put her hands on the bed and raised up a bit. I reached forward and took her right wrist and pulled it behind her back. I did the same with her left. Then I pinned both wrists against the small of her back with one hand while I grabbed her panties off the bed. Using the panties as a short rope I bound her wrists tightly together.
This maneuver had caused me to reacquire my hard-on and I quickly buried that dick into her pussy. In one stroke my balls were up against that thick, natural bush.
I pushed down on her lower back to tilt everything just right and then I flat-out jack-hammered that hot snatch.
Friday, October 23, 2009
I didn't want it to stop, but finally I pushed her up and off my cock. I stood up.
“Get on the bed,” I said.
She moved over onto her bed and got on her back with her ass at the edge and her legs open.
“No. Flip over,” I said.
She turned over and started to move across the bed away from me. I grabbed her just above the hips with both hands and jerked her back to the edge of the bed. She put her feet on the floor and stretched her arms across the bed with her head turned to one side so her nose wasn’t against the sheets.
I gave her ass a hard smack with my open right hand. Then the other cheek got it from my left. Her butt was taut and firm. I slid the rest of my dick into her and leaned forward putting my left hand down on the bed. I got her long black hair wrapped around my right hand and pulled her head off the bed. Her hands were grasping at the bedspread as I ground into her from behind. I got into her just as deep as I could get.
“Oh gawd… do me hard you nasty fucker…” came a low growl from deep in Mona’s throat.
I backed it out slowly until just the head of my cock was still inside her soaked cunt. After a pause to take a good look at this beautiful woman I drove it all back in with one solid stroke.
We went at each other for the next few hours including a few breaks to catch our breath. She was absolutely the wildest fuck I'd had up to that point in my life. I chalked it up to her advanced age and experience.
“You should come over Wednesday night. I’ll make us dinner,” she said.
“OK,” I said, “What time?”
“Make it six-thirty.”
“Wil, this was great tonight. Thanks for coming over. I think we’re a good fit,” Mona said.
I didn’t know what all she meant by that but I agreed that certain parts fit together real well over the past few hours. I assured her that the pleasure had been mine.
On the drive back to my parents' house I was reviewing the events of the evening. The way she looked and smelled... the sweet red wine and her dope stash from Chet... what she said before we went to her bedroom... and the amazing time spent in that bedroom. It was a nicer drive away from Mona’s house than the one back in December. But then a new thought passed through my brain. I had never considered this before, but what if Mona had set up the whole ski trip and party in December to break up Sharon and me? I rolled everything around in my brain as I drove. I tried to remember everything that had happened and everything that had been said. I decided that it was very smug to think she'd do that. But then again, she had just sucked and fucked me within an inch of my young life, so maybe I had a right to flatter myself? Nah. In the end I couldn’t reach any conclusion, but I did realize that it was entirely plausible that nothing back in December had been just exactly as I thought it had been.
I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t angry. In fact, it amused me. One thing I knew for sure, I was having a better spring break than if I had gone to Florida with the crowd. A helluva lot better.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
She turned to face me. Her blouse was unbuttoned all the way now. I wasn’t scared, but I was nervous. Plenty nervous. If Mona had said the wrong thing right then I might not have made it. But she did the right thing. Her instincts were perfect-- it wasn't time to challenge me, it was time to make me comfortable. She came to where I was leaning against the door frame and put her hands up on my shoulders. I had left my jacket out in the living room. She moved her hands over my chest and eventually she found her way to my waist. She untucked the Henley shirt and moved her hands back over my skin until she was back at my chest. Then Mona put her head on my chest.
“I think it’s sweet that your heart’s beating so hard,” she said quietly.
I kissed the top of her head. My hands were on her waist. She pulled my shirt up. I helped take it off and tossed it on the floor. She kissed my bare chest. Her tongue played with my nipples as her hands ran across my skin. Then her hands were on my back, holding me close as she kissed my chest... and then my neck... and finally my mouth. We kissed hungrily. I pushed her back slightly and slid her blouse off. Her nipples were hard, dark, and pronounced. I took her left breast in my right hand from underneath, squeezed it up and leaned in. I sucked her nipple, tongued it, flicked it. I opened my mouth wide and took most of her breast into my mouth, the thick of my tongue rubbing on her nipple. I did the same to her other breast. Her head was back, her eyes closed when I snapped a quick slap across her left tit with my right hand. Her eyes popped open. I slapped her firm tit again from the side, slightly from beneath. It was a glancing shot that got all of her big nipple. Next it was the right side with my left hand. She had a smirk on her face as she said, “I knew you were a nasty fucker….”
“Shut up, Mona,” I said.
I put my left hand behind her neck under her hair, gripped her firmly, and walked her over near the only chair in the room—an overstuffed, low, wide chair with a matching ottoman. Still holding her by the back of the neck I undid the button on the back of her tight little skirt, unzipped it, and pushed it down over her hips. It fell to the floor. Not only had she gotten rid of her hose earlier she had taken off her panties too. She stood there, her skirt on the floor surrounding her high heels, with nothing else on but makeup, perfume, a necklace, and some bracelets. I took my time slapping, squeezing and tugging her breasts. I handled her nipples very roughly-- the sounds that escaped her throat told me I was on the right track. I turned her so her back was to me and looked at her bare ass. Mona really was a beauty. I wasn't sure why she wanted to spend any time with me, but she had made it clear what she expected and I sure as hell wasn't going to go limp on her. At least that was my plan. A plan that I was making up on the fly.
I took my hand from the back of her neck and got her firmly by the hair. I had her at arm’s length so I could take in the view. I tilted her head back so she was looking at her bedroom ceiling. With my free hand I gave her a firm crack across the right ass cheek. She gasped. I backhanded the left cheek. Another gasp.
“Turn around,” I said.
She turned to face me and as she did her hair wrapped more tightly around my left fist.
I put my right hand on her shoulder and pushed down. She knew it was time for her to get on her knees.
Friday, October 16, 2009
“Care to join me?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Nah, I’m alright. But feel free,” I said.
She fired it up, drew in a lungful and held it a long time while I sipped some wine.
“Doesn’t everybody at your college get high?” she asked.
“Pretty much. I’m not against it or anything. Just don’t do it often,” I said.
She smiled and took a second hit.
“I hadn’t smoked in years but Chet gets this really good shit and gives me some,” she said.
"Interesting, I thought, "Chet's still in the picture."
I shrugged, took it from her and tried it.
“Careful sweetie. It’s creeper weed. It sneaks up on you,” she said.
I passed it back, she took a third deep toke, and gave it back to me.
“I’ll be back in just a bit, OK?” she said.
“OK,” I said.
As she went down the hallway I knew she had gone into the bathroom from the sound of her heels suddenly clicking on the tiled floor as she stepped off the carpeted hallway. I put out what was left of the roach and left it on the edge of a heavy glass ashtray, finished my wine, and slouched back on the couch. I had a good feeling about how things were going and my wariness about coming to visit Mona was completely gone.
She came back in the living room after what seemed fifteen minutes. Then again, it might have been five minutes and the creeper had kicked in. As she walked towards me I noticed that she had taken off her jacket. She came up to where I was sitting, right where the sections of the sofa met. I looked up at her and could tell she had re-applied her lipstick, brushed her hair, and her perfume was more noticeable than before.
“I like the way that feels,” she said.
We started kissing again but were both grinning so much we just bumped our teeth together. Which made us both laugh. But we got back to kissing, and I got back to playing with her bare tits in short order. After a lot of kissing and groping Mona shifted around until she was almost facing me. She pushed me into the back of the sofa and wrapped her arms around my neck. She put her left cheek against mine and said quietly in my ear, “That little bitch used to confide in me, Wil... she told me everything you guys did. I know the first time you fucked her was in this room on the floor in front of the sliding door... she told me about every time you two fucked... I now about her sucking you off in the parking lot when you left her at the dance club. She told me so much about your dick sometimes I think I’ve already sucked it.”
“No?” I said.
“No. Some of us like it real fucking rough some times. Some of us like to have our ass spanked. We like a guy who tells us what to do in the bedroom. Some times we need to have our hair pulled and a hard dick rammed in us from behind."
“Yeah?” I said. "I've heard stories about stuff like that. Ya know, it kinda sounds like you're talking about yourself, Mona."
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
We were all getting along pretty well, having a few drinks and a chuckle or two, when one of my pals decided to tell the girls the story of my experience with Sharon and the Christmas Party at Mona’s. I didn’t find it entirely amusing to have that embarrassing tale told but it was all part of the drill with the guys—we never gave each other a break. All four of the girls, hearing what happened that night, agreed that I had gotten involved with a cunning stunt. One of the four, Ronnie, had my full attention all evening. I was hoping for a good rebound, ya know? Several weeks later I would find out that one of them, Ann, had her full attention on me. But I’ll get to that tale later.
Once I was back at school I dug in for another term of hard study and easy living in my cool apartment way outside of town. One of the electives I was taking was a creative writing class. I figured that it wouldn’t hurt a Radio/TV major to be able to write better. The professor was a great guy who believed that the best way to learn how to write was to actually write, not just talk about it. So we wrote tons of stuff and then we critiqued everything we wrote in class. It turned out there was an absolutely outrageous character in that class, a sophomore girl called Sparkle. Her real name was the same as a famous TV comedienne but everyone knew her by her nickname. Of course, her nickname wasn’t Sparkle, that’s her “Crack The Whip” name, but her real nickname was something similarly flashy. There’s going to be a lot to write about Sparkle soon, and Ann too for that matter. Alas we won’t be writing about Ronnie (that’s her real name, too, not her CTW name) since she found it easier to just reject my advances than to go out with me and dump me later.
Zipping forward a couple months to early March, I was sitting at my kitchen table studying around 10 o’clock on a weeknight when the phone rang. It was Mona. I hadn’t heard her voice since the night I walked out of her house back in December but it was instantly recognizable to me—even if she sounded like she’d been drinking a little. I was wary. Mona had always been nice to me but it was at her house that Sharon had dropped her bomb on me so I had trouble trusting Mona completely.
“Wil, are you going to be up this way over spring break?”
“I guess so. I can’t afford to go to Florida or anything,” I said.
“Good. Ummm, do you think we could get together when you’re home?”
And, like a stone effing idiot I actually said, “Why?”
“OK. Sure,” I said.
“When do you get home?” Mona asked.
“Friday night,” I said.
“Cool. Why don’t you come over here Sunday night, say about seven?”
“OK. There won’t be a big party going on, will there?” I said with a laugh.
“No, sweetie, I’ll be here all alone.”
I hung up, got an Old Chicago out of the refrigerator and plopped back onto the chair at the kitchen table.
“Hoooleey Fuucckkk,” I said to my empty apartment.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
From just past the foyer I could see the kitchen. Sharon was sitting on a bar stool at the counter with her back to me. She had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Some guy I didn’t know was facing her, his right forearm on the counter, his big mug about two feet from Sharon’s face. His eyes were locked on her as she talked and laughed. I thought he might drool on her. Standing next to "Biff" was another guy I didn’t know talking to a beautiful girl. I didn’t quite understand the scene in front of me. The noise in the living room kept me from hearing anything coming from the kitchen. The beautiful girl in front of the sink looked at me. It was Mona. Suddenly she realized who she was looking at and a look very near horror flashed across her face. She excused herself and came hurrying towards me. Sharon never turned around on her bar stool.
“Wil! It’s great to see you, sweetie! I didn’t know you were coming,” Mona said.
I looked puzzled I’m sure.
“Sharon invited me. Didn’t she tell you?”
Mona glanced towards the kitchen and said she must have forgotten.
“Here, let me introduce you to some of my work friends… and, uh, I’ll show you where to put your coat,” Mona said.
She led me to the hallway to the bedrooms.
“Who the hell are the guys in the kitchen, Mona?”
“It’s not what it looks like, sweetie. They’re just a couple of guys who we’re going skiing with tomorrow so I invited them to the party,” Mona said.
I could feel the blood coming up in my neck and head.
Mona got between me and the kitchen in her hallway.
“Sweetie, I didn’t know Sharon invited you. She never told me. I don’t know what’s going on with her but please, please don’t blow up here!” she was pressed up to me and whispering—loudly over the crowd noise.
“I work with these people, Wil. I can’t have them talking about the Christmas Party that turned into a brawl,” Mona said.
I nodded and walked out the front door without a glance at the kitchen.
I had left my car on the street about a block away. I was pretty sure Sharon wouldn’t be chasing me down the street to jump in and give me a blowjob like Thanksgiving weekend.
I drove around until about 11PM. I went from furious, to angry, to pissed, to finally something close to humiliation. I pictured Sharon getting up in front of the crowd in the living room and, after quieting them down, saying:
“You may have seen a guy here a few minutes ago. He wasn’t a party crasher. He was just some loser I used to go out with for the past four months. (The assembled party-goers went "ahhhh" in sympathy for the poor girl.) Well, he’s gone now and won’t bother us anymore. Meanwhile I want to introduce you to Biff who is taking me skiing this weekend. And by skiing I mean we’re going to play in the snow for an hour or two and the other 46 hours he’ll be fucking me six ways to Sunday. Thank you for your attention. Party on!”
Fuck. I hated parties as much as I hated skiing.
“I don’t know what to make of that Billy boy,” he said.
“Seems like there are nicer ways to dump a guy than to rub his nose in the new boyfriend. Hold it, that didn’t come out right,” he said.
“It’s OK. I got the point,” I said.
“On the bright side, this frees you up to make a run up north with us next week.”
(A “run up north” was a trip to one of the biggest college towns in the country about an hour or so north of us.)
“School’s out. Things will be dead up there,” I said.
“There’s always something going on there, dipshit. Besides, you got sumpthin’ better to do? Hey, why don’t you go back over there and have Biff and his buddy beat you to a pulp. Then we can come see you in the hospital instead of going up north when school’s out, asshole.”
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
The two weeks of classes and exams between Thanksgiving weekend and Christmas break flew by. I got one letter from Sharon during that period. That’s the problem with sending someone a letter nearly every day when a romance is young—it’s noticeable when the correspondence falls off. I suppose the same is true about texting, e-mails, IM’s, tweets, Facebook befriending or whatever Facebookers do with each other, and so on. But back then it was either letters or long distance phone calls and I could barely afford stamps let alone telephone calls. In the one letter I did get Sharon was very upbeat and looking forward to getting together over the break. She wanted me to call her when I got back home. No problem, I was looking forward to seeing her too.
The morning after I got back to my parents’ house for Christmas break I gave Sharon a call and we went out to a movie that night. She was excited about a ski trip with Mona “and some other people” that weekend and wanted me to come. I had a family-oriented conflict for the weekend in question. She seemed genuinely disappointed. I was too, but not because I was a big fan of skiing. Snow is best experienced through a window or in a painting. Sliding down a mountain on a pair of waxed slats isn’t a sport I have ever appreciated sufficiently. My preferred orientation is more equatorial than arctic.
The next afternoon Sharon called and asked if I could make it to a party at Mona’s the night before their ski outing. It was a Christmas Party Mona was throwing for her work friends. That sounded like it might be fun. She said to meet her at Mona’s house at 8:30PM Friday—she was going over earlier to help out with party preparations. No problem—my car knew the way to Mona’s house.
Yep, this would be a fun party. Nothing bad has ever happened at an office Christmas Party, right?
Monday, October 5, 2009
My car had bucket seats but no console so Sharon turned her back to me, stretched out as far as she could and leaned back against my chest. We quietly watched the snow for a while until I started nibbling on her right ear. We kissed. We kissed a lot. I fumbled with her pants until I got access to her panties and the contents therein. Hoping my hands weren’t too cold I slid a finger between her lips as my left arm pulled her tightly to me. It felt warm and increasingly wet as I worked my way into her. With my middle finger slipped inside her I rubbed the joint of my thumb across the north end of her pussy and talked very softly in her ear. When she started to get close to the edge she grabbed my left hand in both of her hands and took my fingers in her mouth one at a time, sucking at them as she had sucked my cock an hour earlier in another parking spot.
About a half hour later I dropped her off at her house. I was to pick her up at 1 on Sunday afternoon. I had promised to take her back to college. It was out of my way and would add about 2 or 3 hours to my drive but that was the least of my concerns. No, my problem was figuring out how I was going to get all of her stuff into my little car. It was still snowing as I drove over to my parents’ house.
I woke up at about 9AM Sunday to fourteen inches.
I’ve always wanted to write that sentence and have it be the truth! You’re ahead of me though-- we had gotten fourteen inches of snow overnight. By 11 Sharon called to see if we were still leaving at 1PM. Since I couldn’t even get the car out of the garage due to drifts about 3 to 4 feet tall I thought that was unlikely. Even if I could get out of the garage I couldn’t get through our driveway. The road in front of the house wasn’t plowed and the interstate was closed. Other than that it was smooth sailin’. Sharon seemed to blame me for this—well, at least partially.
As the day wound on the highway patrol was still telling people to stay off the roads. There was no way I was driving anywhere until morning and even then I would have to take the family car. My little Italian rust bucket would never make it. At least that saved the problem of where to put her luggage. I told Sharon I’d pick her up at 8AM Monday and with any luck she'd be on her campus by noon.
Late Sunday night the phone rang. My mother handed it to me and with the mouthpiece covered she mouthed, “It’s a girl.” Mom knew Sharon’s voice so I was pretty sure it wasn’t her. It turned out to be Penny Neal. I didn’t really know Penny. She was three years behind me in high school and I didn’t even know she went to the same college I attended. Her problem was simple. Her dad was supposed to take her back to school Sunday and couldn’t because of the snow. He had to work Monday and she was stranded so she was calling people she knew went to the same school hoping someone might be able to give her a ride. Since I was driving the big family sedan, and since I’m a friendly sort of fellow, I told Penny I’d pick her up at about 8:15 in the morning.
She was ecstatic. I do love making women happy, I confess.
But I wasn’t certain that Sharon would think it was a great idea. Admittedly, sometimes my kindly nature can be a problem. But, dammit, a fellow needs to help other people in need!
Oh, did I mention that Penny Neel had been the Sophomore Princess for our football homecoming my senior year in high school?
I left that part out?
Shame on me.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Don’t worry, you’re not forgetful, I've not written about Angelina before. I already needed a quick side trip away from the Sharon story when something happened two days ago that reminded me of Angelina. I spent most of the day this past Wednesday with a strange taste in my mouth. I had eaten an especially juicy pussy at about 5 AM that morning and the taste never left me. Not really a strong *pussy* taste but kind of a quasi-metallic aftertaste. Some of you guys (and a few of you girls, come to think of it) may know what I mean. (Or maybe it's just me.)
Now, I hear you saying, “Uh, Wil, ever heard of mouthwash? Toothpaste?” Yeah, I’m a firm believer in good oral hygiene. But circumstances kinda kept me from addressing that situation until just before dinner time. This is more than you ever wanted to know, isn’t it? Although, maybe a female reading this will ponder briefly the idea of leaving the aftertaste of her pussy in her lover’s mouth for a few hours and smile. I don’t know. Personally, the notion of a young miss going through the day with some of me inconspicuously splattered in her hair is a touching tribute. Especially if she knows it’s there. But, hey, that’s just me-- a hopeless romantic.
This blog is supposed to be about the 70’s, 80’s & 90’s but so far it’s been a lot about the 70’s and 90’s with the 80’s largely missing. Well, Angelina is from the 80’s! I’ll write about her a bit more at some later date, but here’s one quick piece. I was living in one of the largest cities in the Southwest US and in my late 20’s. I was working in a media job and was enjoying the hell out of life—making good money in a city full of beautiful young women. One night I had to go to an industry function at one of the new, glorious, gigantic hotels sprouting up in this boomtown city. I was there with my boss and a couple other guys from work. There was a cocktail party first and then a formal presentation before everybody could take off. Basically, it was face time… carry the company flag… make a showing. Maybe you’ve done this sort of thing. Anyway, I’m talking to some of the other media hustlers, eating cheddar cubes and shrimp, drinking a Tecate, mingling, basically killing time, when I spy this beauty about twenty feet away. Brown skin, jet black hair swept into a highly professional updo, impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit and white blouse, manicured, made-up perfectly, sexy heels, small breasts, but enough ass to get lost in for a month and a day. This lovely Latina with the bubble backside was an instant hard-on for your humble correspondent. I could barely take my eyes off of her but I didn’t want to get caught staring at her either by my co-workers or by her.
I was distracted just before the end of the cocktail period by a work buddy and a fresh beer when I noticed a woman come up to us at my left arm. I turned to find myself face to face with the brown beauty I had seen earlier. She put her hand out to me. I shook it as she said, “So you’re Bill Wilson! One of our mutual accounts warned me about you.” Her deep, dark eyes actually twinkled. I swear they did.
“Don’t believe anything they say about me, Angelina,” I said, reading her name off the white and blue “HELLO I’M_____” tag stuck to her suit. I introduced her to my workmate as they started to call the group to order for the presentation. She said, “Mind if I sit with you guys, I don’t see any of my group here.”
I told her I had paid them all to stay away just for that reason, and we found our seats.
Over the next few weeks Angelina and I got together a half dozen times or so and I’ll write about it all one of these years, but one meet-up I’ll try to tell you about now. We had both arranged our schedules so that we were calling on accounts fairly close to her house late in the AM one day. We were to meet at her bungalow around noon. I got there early and waited in the driveway. She had bought a little house rather than rent an apartment. It was a fixer-upper in a changing neighborhood. Her bet was that it was changing in a way that would bring increased equity. Sitting and waiting for her I figured that bet could go either way. But she had guts and a lot of spirit for taking risk.
She pulled in the drive behind me in her 3 series BMW. I looked in the mirror and watched her exit the car in a cream colored suit with a deep purple satin blouse. Suede heels matched the color of her blouse. Silver earrings and necklace... a black leather briefcase... she looked very professional and sexy at the same time. We went in the house together and she had no inclination for small talk. She told me to sit in the big overstuffed chair, went to the stereo in her living room and put the needle on Patti Austin’s “Havana Candy” album-- she loved soft jazz stuff.
She came back and did a slow strip for me—not allowing me to touch. Soon enough she was out of her suit and blouse but still in her jewelry, bra, garter & stockings, and her purple shoes—the naughty thing hadn’t worn panties. She cocked her head and looked at me as she undid her hair and let it fall down to her shoulders. I pointed at her and motioned for her to turn her back to me. I moved to the edge of my seat and ran my right hand over her brown round ass. She bent over a bit and put her hands on her knees. I gave her taut ass a firm smack. I wasn’t taking a chance—I already knew what she liked. She was a total slut for rough spanking. I gave her another firm smack on the left side. She took about a half dozen firm open hand swats to both cheeks without a whimper. Then a few more before I slid my finger between her legs. She was nice and wet. Hot and slick.
I stood up and led her to the couch. She reclined into the pillows with her right leg on the couch and her left foot on the floor—spread wide open. Hers was one of the first closely trimmed pussies I’d seen in person. Her lips were very full and clearly visible with her black bush trimmed nice and tight. They were so dark brown they almost looked purple. I ran my tongue through the deep furrow between her wet pussy lips. After nibbling away at her for a few minutes Angelina was fuller than any I’ve ever seen to this day. I slid two fingers into her and started to work her cunt hard and fast while tonguing around her clit. When she put her hands in my hair and pulled me into her I started sucking on her clit. Patti Austin had finished side one a long while and I was still eating her out. She was on fire-- her ankles locked behind me-- her hips bucking as she pushed into my face with her soaked cunt. I have no idea how many times she got off but when I was finally worn out after nearly an hour at her house she was glistening everywhere and obviously spent. I really wanted to fuck her until she passed out but I was going to be late for an appointment if I didn’t get going. Angelina threw her clothes on and backed her BMW out so I could go. She waved and ran into her house.
At 6PM I was supposed to be at a watering hole near the office with my boss. He loved going there because the waitresses were all sweet little babydolls and their uniform was white hotpants, bright colored tight tops, and white go-go boots. It was barely the 80’s and this place was still kinda in the 70’s—but in a cool way. In those days I was rockin’ a nice, big, dark moustache. Now some thought it was like Burt Reynolds. I thought the comparison to the brand new TV character, Magnum PI was better. (My “friends” thought I resembled the Frito Bandito. Bastards.) On the way over to the bar I had bought a can of 7 Up when I got gas for my plush ride. When I took the second sip of my drink I smelled Angelina’s pussy as if it was right back in front of me. Fuck. Her pussy juice was in my super cool moustache and the 7 Up had brought the scent back to life. I ran my tongue over it and wiped the Magnum ‘stache before going inside the dark bar. I sat down with my boss and ordered a gin and tonic.
“What happened to you today?” boss said with his usual grin.
“Accounts or pussy?” I said.
“Save the account shit for tomorrow morning.”
“I ate some great pussy for lunch today,” I said.
“You can’t expense that,” he said.
“It was free,” I said.
“You’ll find there’s no such thing,” he said.
“Now, tell me all about it,” boss said, “Kendra?”
I just smiled.
“You motherfucker. Not Kendra? You motherfucker!”
I took a drink of my gin and tonic.
“Spill it all. Right now.”
My boss was grinning with anticipation but my lips were sealed.