Tuesday, April 28, 2009

The Post-Sophomore Summer Begins

Let’s see, Sherman, where was I?

Oh yeah, finishing up my sophomore year at college and it was all study, study, study. Other than my school work I was studying Linda’s lean frame and Julia’s decidedly rounder aspects. I wish I could report that all was debauchery and merriment but the truth is that Linda and I went from some occasional fucking to me sitting around watching her get high while I drank a beer. That was usually followed by a walk somewhere for something to eat. A bowl of chili at the Big Boy went for 50 cents and when Linda was stoned she lost her worship of the organic and liked a bowl of that stuff. Go figure. I still went over to her apartment by the record store from time to time but my desire faded the more she became devoted to herbs. Before the end of the school year we slipped to a state of friends without benefits—although that phrase was still years away. The terminology of the day was more like, “Hey, Wil, you still ballin’ that hippie chick?” “Nah, we just hang out at and rap.” The very thought of this makes me sad for my generation. While we thought it was all "heavy, man" it was actually lame. Seriously, I should have just kept railin' her. Idiot.

Julia on the other hand was great fun. Nothing but great big fun right through to the last day of final exams. Now I didn’t realize it at the time, mainly because I didn’t know certain things about myself, but Julia was a natural submissive. She had a bubbly, friendly personality. A great sense of style. She smelled great and always looked her best. Her family was apparently very wealthy and politically connected. She loved being a submissive to me. And… she had great big titties.

How the hell did I let her get away?

Funny you should ask. The school year ended and we were still getting along well enough. Which is shorthand for she was blowing me every chance she got—and I made sure she got as many chances as humanly possible. Julia was insistent that we get together over the summer. I wasn't fighting it, but she lived about a two and a half hour drive away. When I got back home after school ended I went straight back to work at the chemical plant for the second of three summers. I couldn’t take time off from work, which Julia never seemed to understand. Towards the end of June I agreed to come over to visit her on a Saturday. They were having some sort of thing at “their club” and she wanted me to attend. Now I wasn’t a complete bonehead, I knew that meant a country club, but I had never set foot at such a place except as an employee. In high school I had worked as a gardener on an estate and I was far more at ease weeding the formal gardens than sipping lemonade poolside.

I’ll make this short because it was painful—I was the pair of brown shoes with a tuxedo my entire day at “the club.” Years later I was quite able to hobnob with the elite but I was out of my element that day. Julia assured me I had done fine, but I knew that her parents were quite disappointed with scruffy, out-of-place me. So, over the summer that all fell apart. I saw her from time to time over the next two years at school and there were a few times where I considered taking another run at her. But it seemed for the best at the time that it ended.

I wasn’t complaining because Sharon had shown up on the radar the first day I went to work that summer at the chemical plant.

Yes, Sharon.

And what an absolutely delightful bit of hell that girl was.

Monday, April 27, 2009


Since I didn't hear from Denise over the weekend there's not much more to write about her. Yet.

When I started down that stream I was writing about the end of sophomore year at good ol' alma mater. I had been juggling a couple of interesting young lovelies: Julia the zaftig freshman and Linda the slender senior-- an art major studying herbs intently.

What ever became of those two? I wonder...

"Sherman, it's time to use our brainpower."

"Oh Kay, Mr. Peabody! What year?"

"Set the WABAC for nineteen seventy-_______"

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Just What She Asked For

Denise worked that wine bottle several inches into her wet slit. Once it was in as far as she desired she used her other hand to work her pussy. Three fingers flat against her clit. Circularly, slowly, then faster, and finally furiously, her fingertips went at it until she gasped and fell back. It lasted quite a while and was a damn good show. I sat still in my bedside seat for the entire episode and my mind never wandered. I never even felt the urge to get up and look for refreshments. As she was stretched out on her back getting her breath I told her of my positive review of the performance.

“I can’t believe you made me do that,” she said.
“I didn’t make you do anything and you know it, Denise.”
I took the bottle from the bed and tossed it in the trash next to the bed in the motel room.
“You haven’t even taken your clothes off, Wil. Get undressed and come fuck me,” she said.
“I don’t need to get undressed for that, Denise. Don’t be silly.”
I stepped over to the bed.
“Roll over on your stomach,” I said.
She did just that and put her arms straight out like she was reaching across the bed as I got her by the ankles and jerked her towards the edge of the bed.
I ran both of my hands over her round, pale bottom.
She wiggled her ass a little as she pushed it up a couple of inches.
“Oh, that’s so cute, slut," I said with a chuckle.

"Now put your feet on the floor and get that sweet, fucking ass up in the air.”
She did as she was instructed.
Her bottom was bare, white and full.
I gave her a solid open-hand smack on the right cheek and she jumped forward with a shout.
“Hold still!” I said.
The left cheek got the same treatment. This time she didn’t jump.
After a half dozen more hard slaps on each side her ass was bright red.
“Is that why you put your cute ass up in the air, slut?”
“I thought you were gonna fuck your whore,” she said.
“I am. Soon enough.”

She took about a dozen more open-hand smacks and then I had her sit on the edge of the bed. She looked up and I got my left hand into her hair and tilted her head towards the ceiling. With my right I cradled her left breast and bounced it in my hand a few times. Then I gave her a glancing blow from below across the nipple, I grabbed her tit again and rubbed it and kneaded it roughly. Then a quick slap from the side. A few more followed. Her pale skin grew pink. I switched sides and gave her the same rough treatment on the other breast. Soon her tits were as red as her ass.

“You said you wanted it rough tonight, right whore?”
“Yes. Please.”
“That's a good girl. Unzip me,” I said.
She pulled my cock out and started to bring her lips to it. I gave her a quick pop on her face—not hard. She looked up.
“I didn’t tell you to suck my cock,” I said.
“May I?”
“No. Just open your filthy slut mouth,” I said.
She opened it wide. I got her by the hair with both hands and started to work my cock in and out of her mouth. As the pace picked up I went deeper until she was choking on each thrust. When I heard that guttural sound I held it deep in her throat with each stroke. When I’d finally pull back she’d gasp and drool each time.
“Ever had a face fucking, slut?”
She moved her head from side to side slightly.
“You wanted it nasty tonight, right?”
She nodded slightly. I laughed and went on fucking her pretty mouth like a soaking wet cunt.
Finally I got bored and wanted something else to do. I pulled out of her face completely.
Denise sat on the bed, catching her breath.
Then she looked at me, “More please.”

I laughed and pushed her down onto the floor of the motel room.
“You really are a dirty little whore. Get down on your knees and suck me.”
She undid my belt, undid the button and opened my pants up.
“Mmmm I love that dick soooo much,” Denise said. She ran her lips and tongue up and down my shaft. She got her face between my legs and took my balls in her mouth as she stroked my cock. I noticed that she still liked to wear lots of rings and bracelets. The last time we’d fucked, twenty years earlier, her rings were all handcrafted. Now she had more expensive jewelry. I probably wouldn’t have noticed except for the fact that I had no urge to cum so I was able to pay close attention to what was going on. She was always a good cocksucker but she was on fire this time.

Denise really got into her night as an interstate motel whore. She became very vocal. She talked about dick sucking while she was going at it. She told me how much she wanted that cock in her cunt. I think she enjoyed the fact that she could be a total whore without any judgement. I took my clothes off, put her on her back and drove into her pussy. I rode her for as long as I could. I pulled out and stood up. I had her get to the edge of the bed and I cock whipped her face. Slapping her face with my hard dick pushed my button and I felt it in my thighs, groin, and nuts.

I told her it was coming.

She begged for it on her face.

I shot a thick load on her.

She cleaned it off with her fingers and swallowed all of it.

Later, holding onto me in bed, she told me how much she liked having her ass spanked. And her titties roughed up. And her face fucked. She seemed sincere when she said it was everything she wanted that night to be. I allowed as how I'd found it well worth the drive as well.

At about 4:30AM the alarm went off. Denise needed to get to the university before 8. I got dressed while she showered—figuring I’d drive back to Chicago and shower at my hotel before going out to O’Hare for my flight to LAX. I drank a cup of bad in-room coffee and then watched Denise get dressed. We hugged. And off we went.

Over the years we tried to get together again. Something always came up and made it impossible. Frankly, when I was looking for road sex during those years I opted for having Jackie or Janey fly in if possible. But Denise and I stayed in touch. Then about three and a half years ago she e-mailed me to tell me she was getting married. (Third times the charm?) I told her how happy I was for her and her son. She sent some pictures and they looked happy together. After her marriage I heard from her a couple times—innocuous e-mails just catching up on common friends and family. This past winter when I had some very sad news about someone Denise knew I sent her an e-mail.

I never heard anything back.
Perhaps her e-mail had changed.
Maybe I’ll hear from her again if this marriage doesn’t work better than the first two. I hope not because I really want her and her son to be happy. Meanwhile, no matter the decade, Denise and I have always had fun with each other.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Bottleneck Slide

“Get over here,” I said.
Denise stepped closer to where I was sitting.
I tugged on the drawstring of her cute pajama bottoms. When the knot came undone the boxer shorts didn’t fall. The elastic waistband held them on her hips. So I took them by both hands and popped them down over her ass and let them fall to the floor of the motel room.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” I said.
She was looking down at me and smirked.
“Last time I visited here things were more, um, natural and wild. Looks like you’ve trimmed up in a most fashionable way,” I said.
“I try to stay up with the times,” Denise said.
“I always think of you as having style—not a slave to fashion.”
"I like that. That describes me I think," she said.

I put my palm between her legs and ran my middle finger through the rosy pink furrow—from bottom to top. Her lips were completely exposed, dark next to her pale white skin, and after a few passes of my finger those lips glistened. She had left a nicely trimmed patch of soft hair to the north. It was her natural dirty blond color. By the next time I gently traced a finger along and through her opening she had one hand in my hair and the other on my shoulder.

With her still standing in front of me as I sat in the chair I worked her with my right hand-- running fingers along her lips, through her wet center, but never pushing straight into her.

I looked up at her.
“Take that top off,” I said.
She pulled the pajama tank top over her head and as it popped off her breasts they bounced up and then fell back to rest. I reached up and got her right tit in my left hand as I slid the middle finger of my right into her warm, wet cunt. I squeezed, fondled, tugged and pinched her soft tits, one after the other. I filled her pussy slowly and deliberately-- one finger, then two. When she was soaked in her own slick juice I let go of her tits and reached over to the desk and got the bottle of white wine.

“Here, have this,” I said.
She took it and looked through the bottle.
“It’s empty,” she said.
“I know dear, you drank most of it.”
“Why did you hand it to me?”
I pulled my fingers out of her.
“Get on the bed, Denise.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, her feet on the floor and the wine bottle in her hand.
I moved the chair right up to the bed, so close that my knees were against her legs. I was still fully clothed. Denise was naked with a bewildered look on her face.
“Now, get up on the bed right in front of me and show me what you can do with that,” I said, pointing at the bottle.
“I’ve never been more serious, Denise.”

I leaned back in the chair looking her straight in the eyes.
She sat there staring back at me. Then she slid back a bit on the bed. She opened her legs showing me that neatly trimmed pussy. She pulled her knees back, put her feet on the bed, and reached between her legs with one hand. She spread her lips apart and put the top of the wine bottle right to her opening. Then Denise closed her eyes, turned her face towards the ceiling, and pushed an inch of the bottle neck into her.

“Good girl. Now lets see how much you can take, Denise. The first few inches aren’t very wide.”

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Good Start

My hands found their way to her round bottom as we kissed.
“It’s been a long time, Wil.”
“Over twenty years,” I said.
“Been a long time for me period,” she said.
“A real long time, Wil. Seriously!” she said.

“So should we take it real slow Denise? Have you forgotten how everything works?”
“Still a wiseass. You remember when we got together before you moved out West?”
“Well, yeah. But, since you haven’t mentioned it in much detail through all these weeks of e-mails and now dinner I thought maybe you had pretty much forgotten about it,” I said.
“Hardly. Did you ever think about how, if we had e-mail and cell phones and stuff back then, we wouldn’t have fallen out of touch with each other?” she said.
I pondered that for a moment.
“Maybe it would have gone that way. Maybe not. Maybe the reason you were so 'good' to me for those few days before I left was that you figured I was gone for good and you could be as wild and naughty and crazy as you wanted to be and not have to worry that I'd be hangin' around.”
“And maybe you’re projecting," Denise shot back. "Maybe you were so into me because you knew you were going to be gone and you could just leave me in the dust.”
Soooo... is that why I made you take me in your room and blow me almost as soon as I got to the house?” I said.

“Oh! You do remember those days!” Denise said and gave me a dirty grin. "That was all so crazy."
We stood looking at each other. Her arms on my shoulders, my arms around her waist and my hands still holding her ass. I liked the way it felt and could think of no good reason not to hold onto it.
“I remember, Denise. It was pretty amazing. And then you never wrote back and I was just another lonely cowboy out in the wild west. Just me, my horse, and a thousand nervous sheep.”
"First, you were the one that didn't write back. Plus, I doubt you owned a horse, and I'm pretty sure the sheep were safe around you."

"Very lonely out there, Denise. And so soon after you'd had your way with me too. Pretty tough for a young boy," I said.
“You survived. Did you ever know how I knew you were in town?”
“Andi told you, right?”
“Well, yeah. She called from a pay phone at the bar the night she saw you up there. She told me to get up there right away or she was going to dump her date and take you home herself,” Denise said.

“Andi always was a slut. That’s pretty funny though. As I recall you didn’t come up there that night and she didn’t take me home either.”
“Nah, she knew I’d never talk to her again if she did that. But I took care of you pretty good the next few days, didn’t I Wil?” she said quietly.
“I remember…you were like an animal. It shocked me. When we were in high school you and I kinda bridged two groups, ya know? You were more in that good student bunch and I was more in the party bunch.”
“You got good grades too,” I said with a laugh.
“But then, when we got together again that winter when I divorced ______, you were just so different. You were insatiable. You couldn't get enough. It was pretty wild,” she said.

“Nice word, 'insatiable.' I can still be insatiable-- it just takes longer than when I was in my twenties," I laughed, "But I'm a lot more aggressive than back then, Denise. I mean, if that’s why you got in touch with me. Is it?”
“Wil, I missed you. I was thinking about how I screwed up by letting you get away. Maybe letting you get away twice even.”
“Well, I don't know about any of that. You have a great kid the way it sounds so you didn't screw things up too bad in my book. Besides, if you had come out West with me we wouldn't have lasted a year-- I'm sure of that. I was living in a fucking tin can and eating oatmeal to survive... But, I’m here right now. I'm not sure where we are, exactly, some exit off the Interstate, but we are here together. And, you know it isn't like a movie or fairy tale... we’re not going to be ‘together’ you know. So, that's the way it is. What do you want, Denise?"

"I know what I want. I just don't know about how it will be after. I know we won't see much of each other," she said softly.
"Denise, if ' insatiable' and ‘aggressive’ is what you were looking for tonight, I kind be as rough with you as you can handle. If you want sunshine and lollipops I can do that too. But, you kinda sound like you want some rough handling-- but I'm not sure.”

"I'm nervous as hell, Wil. I dunno… I just want…”


“Denise. You have to do something for me. You have to talk plainly."

"OK. I'll try," she said.

"You've been married and divorced twice, Denise. You don't have to act like a naive schoolgirl-- unless you brought the outfit. Seriously, tell me what you want.”
She began to unbutton my shirt and then she put her hands on my chest.
“Wil..." she said softly near my ear and then she stopped and went silent.

"Tell me, Denise. There's nothing to be afraid of. I know who you are. I know how you think. I remember the way you pulled my cock out and sucked me like a whore that night before we went to dinner. I remember how we went at it day after day in your mom and dad's bed. Tell me..."

"Wil, I want you to hammer me like I’m your very own filthy, fucking whore. I am the horniest, dirtiest slut you have ever come across and I am so hungry for that big, hard cock…." she stopped. "How was that?”

I let go of her and sat down looking at her in her cute little pj's.

“Good start. Now act like you mean it, slut.”

Monday, April 6, 2009

Well Planned Exit

I got on the road out of the big city around 4 PM heading south on the Interstate to the place Denise chose for our rendezvous. She was coming north, direct from work at the university. The idea was that we would both drive two hours or so and end up in the same place roughly half way between. She had found an exit with a bunch of restaurants and selected one where we could meet. It took longer to get out of town than I thought so I exceeded the posted limit most of the way once I was on the open road. I was looking forward to seeing Denise. It had been over twenty years and I had been pleased to hear from her via e-mail several months earlier. Oddly, given our history, there was never as much as a double-entendre in our e-mail exchanges. We hadn’t talked on the phone either, although we had exchanged cell numbers when we settled on a meeting place just in case we couldn’t find each other. Consequently I didn’t really know what to expect—which probably made it more interesting. After all, if I was meeting up with Jackie I would know exactly what to expect. I would expect to get fucked to within an inch of my life. With Denise I had no idea.

I pulled the sedan into the lot in front of the TGI Applebee House of Denny’s and started to walk towards the entrance. I was about ten or fifteen minutes later than the time we chose but not late enough to have called. I noticed a woman walking from the right at an angle that would cut me off before the entrance. It was Denise. I’d know that Jane Fonda look-alike face anywhere. Her hair was still short but cut and colored in a late 90’s style not the mid-70’s from our last encounter. (I say that not really understanding what the hell I'm talking about. But, if you showed me a hairstyle from 1976 and one from 1998 I think I could tell one from the other.) She grinned broadly as I smiled at her. It’s an awkward thing when you're walking towards someone in a situation like that. If you look right at the person the gaze lasts an uncomfortable length of time. If you look away it isn’t good form, and if you look at your feet it appears as if you can’t walk without help. So, I looked right at her, grinning like Goober, until finally we were close enough that I could say, “Denise!” about the same time she said, “Wil!” Then came a good long hug.

The careful reader might recall that the last time I had seen Denise she was quite a bit more slender than when we were going steady in high school. Now her shape was more like it had been before she lost weight —not heavy, but not skinny either. She was dressed in her work clothes—a suit and fairly sensible shoes. Nothing overtly sexy. We decide to have dinner there and not run around trying to find another place. After all, who doesn't love TGI Applebee House of Denny's?

Dinner was fun. We caught up on all sorts of things and she was very interesting. Her personal story since our last contact was extraordinary. We talked a lot about kids and about her career choice of helping people with addictions. I was careful to make sure I didn’t bring up my affliction, pussy addiction. It didn’t seem appropriate. I also didn’t bring up how her body now resembled her mother’s. That would have been most inappropriate. And yet, a compliment. See when I first met Denise’s mother she was about the age that Denise was at the time of this dinner get together-- give or take a couple years. At that time long past her mother had a body like the middle-aged Liz Taylor. Not the “National Velvet” Liz. Not the senior citizen Liz. We’re talking the “Taming of the Shrew” era Liz. Only bustier. Denise’s mom had that hourglass figure thing working for her back then and I never thought Denise would look anything like that. But, now she kinda did. She was taller than her mother but the weight she gained since last I saw her had landed mainly in the northern and southern hemispheres and not at the equator. It was an observation I kept to myself through dinner, even when she returned from the restroom and I was smiling from admiring her fine round ass as she walked away and her bouncing jugs as she returned. Definitely not slender these days. But I wasn't getting a strong feeling about, ya know, sex, and the prospects for such activity.

After dinner we walked out to the parking lot talking away. We hadn’t run out of conversation all evening. Unsurprising given the twenty plus years since we had last seen one another I suppose. My car was closer and we stopped there talking. As the conversation went along Denise had seemed to invade my personal space subtly-- even touching my arm from time to time. Things were getting interesting. Finally, when there was a lull she said, “I guess you need to get back to Chicago.”
“I don’t need to be at O'Hare until tomorrow afternoon so there’s no rush. (PAUSE) But, I guess you need to get back home for your son…” I said.
“Actually, he’s staying overnight at a friend’s house. I decided to get a room up here and just drive to work early in the morning,” Denise said.
“Oh?” I said.
“Yeah. If you’re not in a huge hurry to get back north why don't we go over there where we can talk some more?” she said with a wave of the arm towards the Holiday Red Roof Hampton Express Inn.
I started to think that Denise picked this exit ramp very carefully for its ample amenities.

I followed her over to the hotel. In the parking lot I said, “Why don’t I run over there and get something for us to drink?”
She agreed, gave me the room number, and said white wine would be good.
As I was getting back in the car she said, “Wil, do you mind if I change clothes?”
I didn’t. But as I went over to the Stop-N-Go to get some refreshments I wondered what she’d change into. Which was the whole idea of mentioning it, I’m sure.

When I got to room 215 and knocked I found that Denise had changed into an outfit that was basically boxer shorts and a tank top. I figured out that they were pajamas when she said, “I didn’t pack anything except pj’s… other than my clothes for work tomorrow. You don’t mind do you? I just had to get out of that suit!”
I said that I didn’t mind as I poured white wine into plastic champagne glasses—the only thing I could find that was remotely suitable for stemware at the convenience mart.

We had some wine and suddenly we didn’t have as much to discuss as we did in public.
I thought about the last time we got together after her first divorce and how it had turned into several days of relentless sex. And then years of no contact.
I remembered it but decided that I didn’t want to discuss it at this point.
Then we kissed and I soon determined that her full breasts were natural and quite soft.