Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Yes, I Know

Yes, I know I've had an unannounced, lengthy hiatus hereabouts.

I'm just glad you noticed.

I hope to get back to writing soon.
Thanks for waiting just a bit longer.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Second Date 2

Nikki took a while getting cleaned up before we left for dinner. She had the bathroom door open while she was finishing her hair and makeup and, since we were having a conversation, I stood leaning against the doorjamb. I had a great view. I could see her face and hair in the mirror and see her ass and hair from behind. I wasn’t exactly falling for Nikki but I damn sure liked the way she looked—pretty face, beautiful hair, and a little bit more backside than you might at first expect. And, her passion was undeniably attractive. No doubt about that. I couldn't figure out how any guy married to a woman with that much sexual energy could keep his hands off her for days let alone months or years.

She finished brushing her hair, turned and said, “Ready. Where are we going?”
“Just a little place around the corner... it should be quiet on a weeknight after eight,” I said.

Quiet it was. We were seated at a square table with a white tablecloth. If the table top was a baseball diamond I was sitting between 3rd base and home plate and Nikki was between home and first so that my right knee was near her left knee. There were two other tables taken in the whole restaurant. A couple sat at one out of our line-of-sight on the other side of the room, and three older gentlemen were having after-dinner drinks at one about 30 feet away from us. We were facing them and they clearly approved of Nikki’s appearance as much as I did. I had followed her into the room and the click of her high heels on the tile had drawn their attention. They followed her all the way through the room with their eyes. I glanced at them and they were all smiling. One of the guys lifted his eyebrows, nodded and smiled at me. Sort of a silent "attaboy" from a drunk.

I ordered a drink and Nikki the abstainer got sparkling water. We looked at the menu, ordered our meals, and talked. I felt like we were on display a bit. It didn’t bother me, but I was hoping the old guys would drink up and hit the road soon. She leaned towards me at one point and as she did I leaned towards her. Her lips were near my right ear.
“Those guys over there are wondering if you’re getting laid tonight,” she said.
“No they aren’t,” I said.
“Oh, I think so," she said.
“No, Nikki. They’re just trying to remember what it was like.”
“Like what was like?”
Her dark eyes were on fire.
“What it was like to get their cocks sucked by a woman that looked like you,” I said.
“Oh, that’s soooo sweet!" she said with a snort. "Tell me, darling, are you getting a blowjob tonight?"
“I don’t know, the night’s still young. But it is a school night... so... I don’t know.”

While I spoke she had put her left hand, the one adorned with thousands of dollars worth of diamonds, on my right leg under the table and was sliding it slowly along my inner thigh towards my crotch. The thought crossed my mind that she was insatiable and I was the luckiest guy to ever date someone from a chat room. By the time her hand got to her goal my cock was stiff. Her palm slid across the head, then stopped on top of the shaft. She rolled her fingertips back and forth across the tip.
“My, look who’s making another appearance,” she said.
“You’re a very bad little girl,” I said.
“I might be. But I’m loving every second we’re together, Wil.”

I put my hand on top of hers. If she kept going she was going to make me cum in my pants. I wasn’t sure if the guys across the restaurant could see what she was doing, but I was pretty sure that they thought she was giving me a handjob. When I had placed my right hand on top of her left she turned her hand over and intertwined her fingers with mine. She leaned closer. “I forgot something,” she said.
“What did you forget, Nik?”
“Oh, I'm just so silly. I left my panties somewhere in your bedroom,”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to go back and get them after dinner,” I said, trying to sound put out. I was as unbelievable as she was when she called herself "silly."
“Yes. I suppose we will. Of course, in the meantime, lover, there’s nothing between your fingers and something you really seem to like…” She had moved our hands, locked together, to her left leg. She let go and I left my hand on her leg just at the hem of her short gray skirt. I could feel the lace top of her stockings under my fingers.
“You know, I have to live in this town, Nikki. If we get arrested for indecent exposure…”
And right then the waiter was at the table with our food.
I heard the three drinkin’ buddies laugh.

As we finished the meal Nikki insisted that she pay. I thanked her, but declined the offer. “Don’t be a pain,” she said, “You paid the last time.”
After some back and forth I finally said, “Fair enough, but don’t think you can take advantage of me just because you bought me dinner.”
“Are you kidding? You had two drinks and a dinner. I’m getting my money’s worth tonight, big boy!”

She paid cash, left a nice tip, and we rode back to my place in her luxury sedan.
“Would you like to come in?” I said.
“Oh... maybe for just a minute,” she said.
We both smiled.

On the walk to the front door Nikki said, “Back at the restaurant you said I was being a bad little girl, Wil.”
“Yes, I did.”
“What do you think should be done with a bad girl?”
"I dunno, Nikki. But I'll come up with sumpthin'."
I unlocked the door and held it open for her.

Friday, August 20, 2010

Second Date

I arrived at the shopping center about ten minutes late—it was damn near impossible to get out of the office before 6:30. Leaving at 6 felt like I had worked a half day. The parking lot was packed, this being back two crashes ago when the economy was booming, so I spent another ten minutes driving around waiting for a spot to open up.

When I walked in the bookstore I didn’t see Nikki in the café where we were to meet. The main floor of the store was a few feet lower than the café level and I scanned the place looking for her. Didn’t see her-- but she could be on the upper floor. I headed for the escalators towards the back of the mammoth store. I never considered that she had stood me up but I figured she could be late, heck she might just be looking for a parking place like I had been. But, I wondered, if she was in the store, what section would she be browsing?
My first guess from what I knew of her was the Philosophy/ Psychology area. Besides, that’s the best place to look for hot babes in a bookstore. Sure, they might be “troubled chicks,” but that’s the price you pay. (Pay gladly, maybe. I've heard psycho-sex can be fun. Ahem.) A lot of good this wisdom does anyone today now that bookstores seem to be inexorably following record stores down the swirling toilet bowl of retail history. I won't go down that sidetrack now, however.

I found the Philosophy/Psychology aisle, looked down the row, and there she was. She was paging through a book and didn’t see me. I strolled past the row, then turned back and looked at her from an angle slightly behind her and about fifteen feet to her left. She was wearing a gray suit, the skirt of which was just as short and well-tailored as the black one she was wearing the first time we met. Her pumps were a darker gray suede. I felt my dick twitch. I walked down the aisle as if I was browsing the books on the other shelves until I was directly behind her. She still hadn’t noticed me. I turned and stepped up behind her looking over her shoulder, and said, “What the hell is the Celestine Prophecy anyway?” She didn’t jump, but did turn to face me.
“I knew it was you behind me you know,” Nikki said.
“So you saw me.”
“No. I just knew it was you.”
She smiled at me beautifully.
“Ah, so that’s what the book’s about. Apparently I’m a Celestine and you prophesied that I was behind you,” I said.
“Seriously, you don’t know about this book? It’s been out for a few years. My girlfriend told me about it. I’m going to pick it up if we have time.”
“Sure,” I said, “I’ll be out front if you don’t mind.”
She made a mock pouty face. “You can’t stand in line with me?”
Meeting at this bookstore was a really bad idea. Too close to where I lived.
“OK. You talked me into it.”

As it turned out her car was parked pretty close to mine. I pointed to where my car was and told her to follow me to a little restaurant just past my townhouse as I opened her car door and she got in. She looked up before I shut the door and said, “Wil, do we have reservations-- or do we have time to stop by your place first?”
“We don’t have to be anywhere at any time tonight,” I said.
“Good,” she said, “So we can go to your place?”
“Follow me. Just park in the driveway when we get there.”

We entered the house from the garage. To the left down the hall was the living room, kitchen, and dining room. The master bath was straight across the hall and the bedroom was to the right. Nikki went through the door first, turned to the right, and headed straight to the bedroom. I followed her and we kissed while standing at the end of the bed. From the way she kissed I got the impression she had enjoyed the last time we had been in this room. I helped her take her suit jacket off and put it on the bed. With no hesitation I unbuttoned her skirt and slid the zipper down. I pushed the skirt over her hips and it fell to the floor. I put my hands on her waist and pushed her down onto the bed. I caught her black lace panties and pulled them off over her thigh highs and heels. I put the palm of my right hand on her smooth mound. I reminded her that the first time we were together I had missed out on eating her pussy. “I know,” she said softly.
I stood at the foot of the bed, reaching down and running a single finger lightly between her pussy lips while I looked at her face. She was looking right into my eyes. Her head, on the bed, was surrounded by lots of thick blonde hair. Her eyes were dark and dancing. She started to grab at her small breasts through her pale pink blouse and bra. The tip of her tongue ran, barely visible, along her lower lip and she was breathing slowly but heavily.

I got on the floor and completely covered her opening with my open mouth. I pushed my flattened tongue onto her sex and moved around her until everything was as juicy as a fresh-picked tree-ripened peach. Then I backed my face a few inches away and split her lips apart with the index and middle fingers of my right hand while pressing my thumb just between her ass cheeks. I started flicking her slit from bottom to top with my tongue. Back and forth. Up and down. I kept my fingers outside of her on her outer lips. I could feel her squirming under me. She was getting more vocal.
“Make all the noise you want, baby,” I told her. "Nobody will bother us."
She made sound deep in her throat. I pulled back to look at her and she was clutching at her tits with her head rolling from side to side. Her shirt was still buttoned. I slid my middle finger into her cunt, palm up, and worked it into her while I pressed the middle of my tongue against her clit and moved my head in a small circle. She gasped and I put a second finger into her, twisting my hand as I worked it in and then back out of her. I kept fingering and licking while getting directly in front of her.

Then Nikki put her legs around me, grabbed my head with both hands, and pulled me towards her as if she wanted my face to enter her. She let go with an “oooooofuckfuck gawdfuckfuckfuck oooooooo gawwwwwwwdddddddd”
I didn't let up on her. I moved my left hand near my mouth and began to rub across her clit with some pressure and pushed three fingers of my right hand into her wet little cunt. She let go with a shriek followed by another long moan. Her hips rolled several times. Then she held motionless for a moment before her gasping sounded almost like a puppy whimpering.

At this point I still hadn’t even gotten my shirt off. I left Nikki on the bed and stood back looking at her sprawled there. She was still breathing hard when she finally opened her eyes and looked at me. I wondered if she was now a spent little slut too worn out to fuck.
“Take the rest of your clothes off,” I said.
She didn't protest and I watched her quickly take her pumps, hose, blouse, and bra off. I was certain she wasn’t too tired. I got completely undressed and Nikki said, “Are you gonna fuck me, baby?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“Are you gonna put that hard cock in me?”
I chuckled and walked up to the night stand, opened the drawer, and pulled a condom packet off the end of a strip I had put there before leaving for work that morning.
I peeled it open and unrolled the slightly gold-colored, lubricated rubber onto my stiff dick. I looked over and saw that Nikki had been watching me. When she saw me looking she said, “Oh yeah...put it all in me. Does my pussy look good baby?”
“It’s the best, Nik”
“I took special care getting ready this morning ‘cause I knew you’d be all over it tonight, baby.”
“Good thinkin’, slut,” I said as I stepped back to the foot of the bed, got between her legs, and lifted them into the air by getting my hands behind her knees. With her calves against my chest I reached down and worked the tip of my cock between her pretty pussy lips. I pushed down and then forward and slid deep into her. She wasn’t a big girl, and I knew from our time before that she was a tight fit. But we could have both been made out of Teflon the way everything slipped together nearly friction free.

After a few strokes we caught a good rhythm. I always figure that if I play Marvin & Tammi’s “Your Precious Love” in my head—the opening bars before the vocals—that’s a good starting point. And it was, but soon Nikki wanted it faster so before long I had my hands pressed down into her ass with her legs pushed back over her shoulders and I was pounding it into her fast and deep.
Hell, the little married thing was screaming for it.
And when I finally shot my load she was soaked with sweat.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Long Drive Home For Nikki

I walked Nikki out to her car. It was about 11PM and I calculated she wouldn’t get to her home in Orange County until about 1 in the morning. She didn’t seem concerned about what her husband would say about her stumbling in during the wee small hours. Before she drove off we agreed that our first date had gone well and that a second one was definitely in order.

I went back inside and turned on the TV looking for ball scores. Nikki had been gone about fifteen minutes when the phone rang. Very few calls I get after 10 at night are good. I muted the TV and picked up the cordless phone by the living room couch. It was Nikki.

“D'ja already go to bed?”
“Nah. Why, do I sound like I’m asleep?”
“Not really,” she said, “Do you mind talking to me while I drive?”
“Afraid you’ll fall asleep?”
“No. I’m too worked up to sleep,” Nikki said.
Worked up? You shoulda just spent the night.”
She laughed.
“I wish,” she said.

I didn’t know what we were going to talk about, but for about the next forty-five minutes or so we conversed without too much dead air. Mostly she talked and I listened, I suppose. She really was wound up. On the other hand, I was ready to go to sleep. I figured our varying energy levels were due to her being about ten years younger than me. (I later found out she’s sixteen years younger than me.) Around midnight the battery in my cordless phone was going dead. I told her this and said she could call me back in about ten minutes if she still wanted to talk. I was surprised when she said she would.

I used the bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed up, turned all the lights out, got undressed, and hit the sack. I was drifting off to sleep when the phone rang. It was Nikki calling back. I told her I was in bed, in the dark.
“Mmmmm… that sounds good... I think I’ll pull off the road at the next exit and find a safe place to park.”
I chuckled softly.
It turned out she was serious and in about five minutes we were talking to each other while she was working her pussy with a toy she had in her purse and I was, well hell, I was stroking my cock. The conversation progressed, ahem, nicely. She got off loudly right after I told her what a filthy cock-loving little slut she was. And hearing her moan, scream, pant, and cum tripped my switch and I unloaded into the top sheet I had wrapped around my dick.

Yes, a second date would be required.

Early the next week we talked on the phone during the work day. She said she could swing a business trip up to my area the following Tuesday. I looked at my calendar-- I was going to be in town with no evening commitments so I agreed that Tuesday evening would be good. Rather than suggest a restaurant I gave her the address of a huge bookstore near my home. We decided to meet at 7 in the café in the store.

Sometimes you know that something is starting out so fast that it can't possibly last. And some of those times you don't really give a damn because you know that as long as it does last it's going to be a great fucking ride.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


I read somewhere of a study that claimed that a man who believes he is in competition for a particular female will release more semen in intercourse with said female. The idea is that somewhere in the wiring of the male brain a signal is transmitted that attempts to increase the odds of coming up with the champion sperm by flooding the battlefield with little soldiers.

Now I didn’t think of myself as being in any competition with Nikki’s husband, but I was damn sure officially bangin’ his wife now, so maybe that deep recess of my brain issued the order to fill her pussy with cum because I shot a big load in her. After I came Nikki fell forward on her stomach and I flipped onto my back next to her. Immediately she started to kiss my stomach and then downward further and further until she was licking and sucking my cock again. I was getting less hard by the second, but she was lapping up everything she could.

All of my nerve endings in that area were over-stimulated and I couldn't take any more attention.
I reached down with my left hand, got it under her thick hair at the back of her neck, and slid her up next to me. My mouth was right next to her ear and I said, softly, “You like the taste of your own pussy, baby?”
“Mmmmmm,” she whispered, “I love the taste of it and your cum mixed together.”
I smiled.
“And, well, I like to play with your cock, too,” Nikki said, “But you stopped me earlier.”
“Yeah, so I could fuck you from behind…”
“Yeah,” she said.
She looked at me, our faces inches apart, and grinned.
“And did you like fucking me, baby?”

I laughed.
“Yeah, Nik, you’re a hot little fuck. But I screwed up.”
She pulled away a foot or so.
“How?” she said with a look of deep concern. Or mock concern, I couldn’t tell.
“I should’ve eaten you first. You have the cutest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
Nikki smiled.
“I shave every morning in the shower,” she said.
“Every day?”
I didn’t say anything.
Then, after at least a minute of silence I said, “That sounds like a lot of trouble. I don’t even shave every day. I skip Saturdays usually.”
“I like the way it feels when I keep it shaved,” she said.
“I’d have to go along with that,” I said.

The idea of her going to the trouble of shaving her pussy every day for nobody but herself got me to wondering. If it was true that her husband wasn’t getting things done in the bedroom, and I believed that it was, well... was anyone else fuckin’ her. I thought about that for a minute or two since, after all, I hadn't used a condom. There were a lot of reasons why that was dumb. Hell, for all I knew she wanted to get pregnant and hubby was sterile. I didn’t think that, in e-mails and phone conversations, she had ever said that she wasn’t getting laid, just that her husband had stopped being interested in her. For some reason I had assumed that meant she wasn’t getting any cock. My good mood started to darken a little.

“Wil?” Nikki said.
I turned to look at her.
“Is it too soon for you to… you know…?”
“Only one way to find out for sure,” I said.

Nikki hopped up and quickly positioned herself down between my legs as I stacked some pillows under my head to see the show. She started pulling on me with her left hand. As I began to stiffen she swirled the tip of her tongue around the head of my cock. Her tits were so tiny that I could easily see her right hand go between her legs as she began playing with her cute, bald pussy.

I stopped wondering whether anyone else was fucking her.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

After Dinner

I got out of the car, walked back to Nikki’s sedan, and told her where she should park at the end of the street. I pulled my car into the garage and then walked over to where she was parking her BMW. I opened the door for her and we walked to the front door of my townhouse as she asked about the neighborhood. I apologized for the state of the house before unlocking the door. The truth was that I owned a beautiful home I didn’t live in, and rented this place that I barely ever saw. She seemed to understand the situation. I noted that she seemed confident, not apprehensive, as we entered my house.

I didn’t have anything non-alcoholic to offer her to drink but she said that water was fine. When I came back out in the living room she was sitting on the floor next to the ottoman. She was fascinated by something I had left there. At first it looks like an art object. And it is, up to a point, but it’s also a game. I handed her the glass of water and told her how the game was played. She seemed to find it utterly enchanting. For my part, I was amazed that she was able to sit on the floor in that short, tailored skirt. She was sort of on her left hip more than her bottom with her legs to the right and together. I sat down near her on her left. She worked on the game—it’s sort of a solitaire where you use semi-precious stones on a circular teak board. She ended with five stones left and asked if she had done well. For a first time, sure, I told her. She had her left arm straight with her weight on her left hip and hand. I leaned in and we kissed.

The kissing went from tentative, to exploring, to passionate in fairly short order. I moved closer to her and put my right hand around her back and drew her closer. After lots of kissing we pulled back and looked at each other from about a foot away.
“The bedroom is right down that hall,” I said with a nod.
“Uh, I didn’t think that’s where this would go tonight, you know, when I left the house this morning,” she said.
“No. I know. But… it seems…”
I tilted my head slightly and lifted my eyebrows just a bit and smiled.
Nikki nodded.
I helped her up and pointed her towards the hallway. And there was that killer high-heeled strut of hers as I followed her to the bedroom.

We stood at the end of the bed and kissed again. Within seconds she was undoing my belt and unzipping me. I let her. She got my pants open and had her hand on my cock through my boxer briefs. I was hard.
She made a very faint moan. We kissed some more as she gripped my cock, sliding her hand up and down its length. I started to unbutton her blouse and she let go of me.
“Le’me, Wil,” she said.
She turned away slightly and unbuttoned her blouse, quickly unhooked her bra, and like that she was bare above the waist. I realized she was self-conscious about her small breasts. Just as quickly she had her skirt and panties on the floor in a pile with her blouse and bra. She stood in front of me in nothing but dark thigh-high lace-top stockings and tall black heels. She sat back on the edge of the bed and reached out for my hips. I stepped towards her and she pulled my pants and underwear down. Nikki cupped my balls in her right hand, slid her left hand down the shaft, and took the head of my cock into her mouth. The cock hungry little thing went after it like she hadn’t had a good stiff prick in her for years.

I didn’t want to shoot my load in her mouth right away so after she had stroked and sucked my cock and taken my balls in her mouth for a while I pulled back. She looked up with a pouty face like I’d taken her Christmas candy away. I took the rest of my clothes off while she just stared at my erect cock and rubbed her gorgeous, smooth, bare snatch. Once I had my clothes off I told her to stand up. When she was standing I turned her around.
“Now get up on the bed on your knees,” I said.
I stepped to the edge of the bed between her legs, looked down at her ass, lace-tops, and heels and pushed with my hand between her shoulder blades. She understood and went to all fours. I ran my right hand down and felt her pretty, bald, wet pussy.

Steadily, and in seemingly no hurry, I slid my cock into her until I was completely balls deep in Nikki's tight little cunt. She gasped, put her arms straight out on the bed to tilt her ass up and rocked back into me. I put my hands on her waist just above her hips, pushed her forward until only the head of my dick was still in her and, after a pause, drove hard back into her.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Dinner Out

Over the next twenty minutes or so I turned to check the door behind me between six and sixty times. Finally, right at 7PM, I saw a charcoal metallic 7 series BMW pull up to the valet. From the angle I was watching I could see the back of a full head of thick blonde hair as the driver got out and got a ticket from the valet. I figured there was a good chance this was Nikki.

I realized I hadn’t ever asked what kind of car she drove... or how tall she was. The woman walked around behind the BMW and towards the restaurant and I thought that was the face from the pictures she e-mailed. Her face was even prettier than the pictures had revealed. I estimated that she was just over 5 feet tall without shoes—but she was wearing very high black heels. Her blouse was white and her skirt was short and black-- probably part of a suit but the jacket was left in the car. Dark hose bridged the gap between her heels and skirt and covered a nice pair of legs. The woman, who I was now sure was Nikki, had very small breasts, a narrow waist, and slightly wide hips. As she got closer to the door I noted a very nice backside that the tailored miniskirt and tall heels, along with her posture and walk, showed off to perfection. The whole presentation was impressive. Aside from her physical attractiveness there was the aura of money—from the car to the clothes. The last thing I needed or wanted was her money, but the way she spent it on herself was looking very good from my vantage point. "Maybe she's a spoiled little bitch who will wreck my life." The thought only briefly crossed my mind.

I stood and greeted her as she entered the restaurant, “Nikki?”
“Wil?” she said.
Her eyes were dark, dancing, and alive. She smiled easily-- revealing perfect teeth. We hugged. She smelled great. I offered a drink and she declined saying that she didn’t drink. I should have remembered... she had told me that in an e-mail. The hostess stepped over to tell us our table was ready and we followed her to the dining area. Walking behind Nikki was pure delight. She really was a little bitty thing with beautiful hair, a great shape from behind, and she made that ass move when she walked—not slutty like a street walker, but just enough to make me think she knew it looked good and that she wanted me to check it out. "Man... would I like to bend that over and go to fuckin' town..." The thought more than crossed my mind. It kind of lodged in my brain. We sat across from each other smiling. Things were off to a great start.

Conversation was easy. Mostly we talked about our respective work. The food was excellent. I had made a good choice of restaurants. Even in a fine dining establishment a dinner can go quickly if you aren’t having wine or after-dinner drinks though. So, it wasn’t even 9PM when we were done. Soon we were out in front of the place and the valets were off getting our cars.

“It’s early, Nikki. Would you like to come by my place before you start that long drive back?” I said.
“Um, sure. Is it nearby?” she said.
“Not far. You can just follow me,” I said.
“OK. That would be great, Wil,” she said. She put her right hand on my left arm and I turned towards her and almost kissed her but the valet rolled up in her sedan. I walked her to the car and told her to just turn left and pull over to the side of the boulevard and I’d be right there so she could follow me. She gave me a big smile and drove off.

The valet brought my car up in a moment and I pulled out onto the street alongside Nikki, got her attention, and she followed me over to the townhouse. On the short drive over I wondered how I had left the place that morning. "Dirty dishes? Something smelly in the trash?" I refocused on the near future. Nikki was interested. This wasn’t high school where the guys are after pussy and the girls are playing keep-away. No, the girl wanted to get fucked. After all she had told me that her husband hadn’t been interested in sex for almost two years. While I had figured this was just a first date for dinner to see how we got along it had seemed pretty dumb to not ask her over since my read on things was that we got along great. Clearly, she agreed.

But, I had to make sure that Nikki didn’t think that I presumed she was coming by to hop into my bed. No, it had to be a mutually agreed upon outcome. But try explaining that to the raging boner in my pants as I pulled into the driveway and her car slowed to a stop right behind mine.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Nikki In The Chat Room

A few years ago, in the early days of the Internet, I discovered chat rooms. No, I didn’t invent them, I merely stumbled upon them. This was before the growth of dating sites, friend-finding sites, pussy/cock-on-the-side sites, and the like. Chat rooms were about as wild as it got back in those bygone days of the late 90's.

Back then I was traveling most of the time on business. Even when I was working out of my West Coast office I was putting in long hours and coming home to an empty house. Most nights I’d fix something to eat, decide there was nothing on TV, and take a look at all the people fooling around in chat rooms. I was separated from my wife and had no local girlfriend. My weekends were spent with my kids. My options were few. Hell, killing a few hours in a “Married But Looking” chat room was probably smarter than hanging out in the bars on weeknights. Cheaper anyway. I never thought I’d actually meet someone in real life that way.

Of course my operating mindset was that the beautiful women in those rooms were actually guys who were older, uglier, and more bored than me. I’m sure I chatted with more than one who fit that bill. It didn’t take long to realize that there was only one way to be sure if the interesting young woman you "met" was actually, um, a woman. You had to really meet her. So, on a couple of occasions I did just that. I can honestly say that every single woman I met that way was real and exactly who she said she was. Your mileage may have varied. Dramatically. Of the chat room meet-ups the most interesting one, by far, was Nikki.

Nikki was married and actually shared ownership of a business with her husband. They had a small company with about a dozen employees. He ran the main business while she was in charge of sales. They had been married about eight years and, according to Nikki, her husband had given up on sex. At least he had given up on having any sexual interest in her, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t because of someone else. We got along well in e-mails and then on the phone. After we knew each other a little bit she was pretty open about what she was looking for without just saying, “Hey, I wanna get laid.” She was classier than that—at least before she actually knew me. But, I know I wasn’t the only one thinking this whole thing might eventually lead to fucking.

We exchanged a picture or two, nothing terribly revealing, but enough that I could tell she was attractive. For her part she apparently didn’t throw up when she saw my picture and was clearly interested in at least meeting for dinner. I’m not sure who suggested we actually meet, but eventually we found a Thursday when she would be in my general neighborhood. She lived in Coastal Orange County but had clients all over Southern California so it was easy for her to make sales calls up in Los Angeles without anyone wondering where she was and what she was doing.

I suggested the restaurant, a nice new bistro not far from a freeway ramp so Nikki would have no trouble finding it. It was a place I’d been to once, knew it was fashionably upscale, and that the food was good. I was sure it would be crowded as well. The worst thing would be to meet at some tired, empty restaurant. Good food and a lively crowd might rub off on me and make me seem more interesting. We decided that 7 PM would be a good meeting time.

I allowed for LA traffic that wasn’t as bad as usual so I got there a half hour early. The bar was just inside the doorway and had stools for only a half dozen folks. The place was already busy. The only seat available at the bar was directly in front of the entrance so I would have to turn around to watch for Nikki. I ordered a Bombay Sapphire and tonic and wondered why I was doing this. I could think of about a dozen people who would be disappointed that I was meeting some woman that I had met on the Internet. I tossed back my drink, motioned for another, and decided I’d focus instead on who might not be disappointed. I came up with one person, me. And, I hoped, there would be another one who would find the evening more exciting than disappointing: Nikki.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Pause: Appreciation

I have been tardy.

Of course, I'm usually late getting to the party. That never bothers me-- I don't like crowds anyway. But this time I'm tardy thanking someone. A week or more ago Riff Dog linked to Crack The Whip in the body of his highly rated and justifiably most-popular-ever blog.

He's done this before and it always creates a veritable Riffalanche of new attendees to our services here. No exception this time too. Of course, the vast majority of the folks who stop by take one look, shake their fist at the sky and shout, "Curses, Riff! You've sent me to that idiot's blog again!!"

What can I say, you were had. I'm just hoping that he hasn't damaged his brand by his kindness towards me. Thanks, Riff, the younger brother mom never let me have. CTW, like me, is an acquired taste-- a polite way of saying, "you probably won't like it much." Which brings me clumsily to the other "thank you" for which I am most tardy... a big thank you to the few hundreds of you who read my musings. I'm touched, I really am. In fact, I'm touching myself right now, truth be known.

As a token of my undying love for you, dear reader, I am posting one of my favorite pictures. It proves that beautiful women were into self-portraiture long before digital cameras and the Internet. Now I would hate to be thought of as so superficial that I only care about the visuals when it comes to you... and you... and you. (Did those links work?) But, let's face it boys, there are some incredibly beautiful bloggresses out here. And many more who have either left blogworld or gone behind firewalls. (They never give me the password, btw!) You know who I'm talking about: You... and you... and, most incredibly, you.
Bless you all.

And, for those who care, I actually am going to write something soon... maybe today... or, at the latest, tomorrow. Or next week.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

No Reason To Run Off

I considered hitting the road early and driving south while Sparkle was on her afternoon date. I didn’t really need to sit around while she was out with some other guy—no matter how inconsequential she made it sound. One problem with the idea of heading down the highway was that I didn’t have anywhere to stay that night and I didn’t have much money for a motel room. The other problem was that Sparkle had figured out that I might bolt and warned me against it. Her warnings wouldn’t dissuade me, but a promise might. So when she promised to “make it worth it” for me to hang around until Sunday morning I figured, what the hell, I probably should stay.

She got ready to go and I couldn’t believe the way she looked. Her wardrobe choice was nothing like I expected. She was wearing a dress that was sort of a 1920's/30’s movie star look. I guess it would be called “vintage” but at the time I thought it looked like she was getting ready for a costume party and going as Mae West. She came to me for a hug on the way out. Her big tits pressed against me and my hands, of course, went straight to her round ass. Just as I thought, the missing panty line was because of no panties.
“I’ll be right back, Wil. Now, don’t pout.”
And off she went.

I was sitting in the living room reading when two young women came downstairs. Sparkle had said she had a housemate but I hadn’t seen or heard anyone until moments before these two came down the staircase.
“You must be L.J.’s friend,” said the slight, pale one.
She introduced herself and her friend and they sat on the couch across from me and right next to each other.
So… L.J. said you lived out west.”
“Just this past year or so. I went to school here and moved to ____ after graduating last year. Now I’m headin' south and stopped in for a couple days on the way. You both live here?”
“I do,” the pale one said, “she’s a guest.”
She kind of bobbed her head towards her black girlfriend who was pressed against her. They both smiled at the "guest" thing.

I was pretty much out of conversation which created a semi-awkward pause. Finally, I came up with something about the house and in the conversation that brought about I found out that Sparkle was the landlord. This was a bit shocking, but according to her housemate “LJ’s parents” bought the house and put Sparkle in charge of renting out the spare bedrooms. As the story went, her parents were “loaded” and thought it was smarter to buy a house than to pay rent. Well. I was learning all sorts of things about Miss Sparkle.

“Isn’t LJ here?” the pale one’s girlfriend asked.
“She’s out on a date,” I said.
They looked at each other and giggled.
“Yep,” I said.
They both grinned. Now I could have felt like a cuckold, but I didn’t. First of all, I didn’t have an emotional attachment, and secondly I still hadn’t recovered from all the fucking we’d done the night before. Anyway, I got the impression that they weren’t giggling at me but that they were amused by the notion of her having a date.

“With who?” pale housemate said.
“I dunno. She said it was some older guy who had been asking her out and that she agreed to meet him today before she knew I was coming through. Just some guy.”
“Well, she does attract attention from older guys,” the housemate said.
“Not from college guys?” I said.
“I think she intimidates guys our age,” offered the girlfriend.
I laughed at that. “I’m sure you’re right about that. You guys want anything from the kitchen?”
Neither did, but that didn’t keep me from getting a beer from the refrigerator. When I got back to the living room they broke an embrace. I felt a bit like an intruder, so I told both of them I was glad to have met them and started to the back bedroom, leaving them to their own devices on the couch.

Sparkle came into the bedroom two and a half hours after she had left. She didn’t look any the worse for wear. If she’d spent the time fucking the guy rather than having a Coca-Cola it didn’t show. I put my book down and got off the bed. She walked up to me and we kissed. I had one hand on her back and the other on her ample bottom. I leaned back and looked down the front of her dress. It had these big, black, square buttons all the way down the front. “Do those unbutton?” I said.
“Yeah, but there’s a zipper in the back…”
I unbuttoned the two lowest ones. I moved behind her and slid the tight dress up over her ass and gathered it at her waist where a wide black belt was still buckled.
“Bend over and put your hands on the bed,” I said.
“Yes sir,” Sparkle said.
I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans. My dick was hard.
“I can’t believe you went out on a date while I was here,” I said as I ran the head of my cock between her pussy lips.
“I’m sorry, daddy.”
“And you went out without your panties too. Is that so this used car salesman could finger your cunt in the coffee shop?”
“No daddy. It was so I’d look my best when you're behind me looking...”
“You dirty, fuckin’ slut... you're a filthy prick-tease... makin' me wait for this pussy while you're out fuckin' around town like a whore...” I said.

I smacked her ass and started to push my cock into her.

“I was very bad. Make me pay for being naughty, daddy,” Sparkle said, in a little girl voice I’d never heard from her before.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

You've Been There, I'm Sure

I was tired from two long days of driving after all. And Sparkle had been asleep when I got to her place that Friday night. So, after she sucked me off, we soon fell asleep together in her bed at the back of the first floor of the house. It was one of those nights where you go from sound sleep... to being roused from your slumber... to fucking... and then back to sleep. Lather and repeat. Don’t bother rinsing. You’ve been there I’m sure.

I awoke to the first light coming through the blinds. Sparkle was still asleep. I got up, wandered off to the bathroom, and then got back into bed. Despite the strenuous activity throughout the night I felt pretty rested-- but not eager to get out of bed for the day. I didn’t need to be back on the road until Sunday morning and I wondered what an entire Saturday hanging out with Sparkle might entail. I wondered how she dressed these days. All I had seen her wear so far was that kimono-like robe and I wondered if she still wore clothes to shock people or if she had started to fit in more.

She was on her left side facing away from me. When I had gotten back into bed I lifted the covers enough that she was visible from the top of her blonde head down to her snow white ass. I was starting to think quite a bit about that big, round ass when she stirred. She slipped out of bed without a word and walked, naked, to the bathroom. She came back a few minutes later. I watched every bounce and quiver as she stepped back to the bed and got back under the covers. She had her back to me again but was about a foot closer than she had been. I ran my right hand from her shoulder down to the curve of her waist to her hip and then over her smooth ass. Without a word she slid back towards me, still on her side. She pushed her ass back a little further.

I assumed that was a good sign, so I gathered some of her hair up in my left hand and held on firmly while I slid my right slowly down her bare back and over her ass until I reached between her legs and found her wet slit. As I got there she rolled over onto her tummy. I followed her lead until I was up on my knees behind her. I got her by the hips and pulled her back until she was on her knees with her head on the bed and her arms stretched in front of her. I slid my cock into her soaked pussy remembering the time she squirted all over my bed two years prior. I pressed down with both hands on the small of her back and began to drive in and slide back out. Sparkle had drained me good over the course of the evening. I felt like my balls couldn’t possibly come up with another drop of jizz, but that wasn’t going to stop me from banging away at her slippery cunt.

I was reasonably sure she was enjoying this latest go as I soldiered on. I kept one hand on her back and reached forward with the other to catch her hair and pull her head back. As I did that she growled, “Smack my ass, Daddy.” I still had no idea where this "Daddy" stuff was coming from, but it didn’t bother me. I gave her big ass an open hand swat and drove into her as deep as I could.

By the time we finished, exhausted, both of her cheeks were pink, warm, and glowing.

We were silent for a while as our heart rates slowed and our breathing got back to normal. We talked a bit about nothing in particular. Then I asked her what she wanted to do over the course of the day ahead of us. She said we could do anything and go anywhere... except for about a two hour period in the mid-afternoon when she had something to do. She said she had to go out for a while.

“No problem. Something for school, work….?” I said.
“Uh, nah. I promised this guy I’d meet him for coffee,” she said.
I tried not to let anything show on my face.
“Like a date?” I said.
“No. Not really a ‘date’. He’s been asking me out forever… an older guy… and I keep making excuses… but he keeps trying... so I finally said 'OK' to a cup of coffee.”
“So, you figured with me in town it was a good time to go out with him?”
“The other way around, jerk. I didn’t even know you were going to be here until a few days ago if you recall, ass. I had already agreed to do this... to meet him when you called. I didn’t say to you, ‘sorry but I’m busy’… I told you to stay here, with me, ya know.”

Arguing with that would be stupid. So I just smiled and said it was all cool with me. But she could have told him that something had come up and that she’d have to postpone their coffee date if she really wanted to. I knew that. She knew that. She knew that I knew that—which is why she called me a jerk and an ass. She was making a strong offense be her defense.

You’ve been there, I’m sure.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Pause: Driving Dad

Over the past couple of years I’ve taken some long road trips with my elderly father.
He’s of an age where helping with the driving is out of the question. Couple that fact with my desire to not stop overnight on these drives and you get the conclusion that I’m driving about twelve hours straight on these trips. I don't mind the driving. I've flown enough for a lifetime and don't care if I ever get on an airplane again.

Dad sleeps a good bit as we roll down the highway. When he does I turn the satellite radio up and the hours slip by effortlessly. When he’s awake he likes to read. Which wouldn’t be a problem except that he reads billboards. Aloud. It seems rude to drown him out with the radio so I turn it down and listen to the advertising messages of a variety of establishments, services, and causes.

On a recent trip he had just read a McDonald’s sign to me and asked me what they met by “PlayPlace”. I told him that it meant that particular outlet had a place where a parent could let a child crawl on hard plastic balls that other kids had sneezed, pee’d, and drooled on while drinking coffee and sending text messages to people. He looked at me like I had told him that Martians had built the Eiffel Tower in 1825.

“No. What is it?” he said.
“Ya know, like a playground,” I said.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those at a…uh... a...”
“Yeah. At McDonald’s,” he said.
“When’s the last time you went to a McDonald’s?”
He pondered that for a second and then read the upcoming billboard, “Wendy’s Exit 64.”

“Do you want to stop at Wendy’s?” I asked.

We went along with the radio low and dad reading aloud every road sign and billboard he saw.
I was learning so much about the hotels, restaurants, scenic attractions, insurance agents, as well as that the Lord was my savior.

A few miles down the road I saw a billboard approaching and wondered if he would read it to me. It was this one….

He read it to himself and didn’t make a noise as we passed it. I tried not to laugh or even smile.

A mile or two went by and he finally said, “You know something I never understood?”
“No. What, dad?”
“Why you always had such good looking girls… you know, why you always went out with such pretty girls.”
“Gee. Uh, thanks dad.”
“What?” he said.
“Nuthin', dad.”
“I mean you weren’t the star ballplayer in school... you were a good kid... but there sure were some lookers around the house.”
I just shook my head.

“Dad, you can’t remember what I made for dinner last night, how do you know whether I dated good-looking girls back when I lived at home?”
“Pork chops?” he said after a pause.
“Steak!" I said, "But what made you think about my old girlfriends anyway?”
I smiled waiting to see if he’d own up to the blond on the billboard being the reason his thoughts had wandered toward pretty girls.

Silence for a couple of miles.

“Who was the girl from work you dated for a while?”
From work… from work… from work.

Then I realized that “work” meant where he worked for thirty-some years, not where I did.
“You mean from summers at the plant?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Her dad worked there with me, right?”
“You must mean Sharon. Yeah, dad. He was the HR guy,” I said.
That got a blank look.
Personnel. He was the head of plant personnel.”

“Right. That’s right. Kind of an odd fella. Cute girl though.”
“Yeah dad. She passed away several years ago.”
“Really? That’s too bad,” he said.
“Yeah. Mom told me that she had breast cancer and then a while after that she sent me the obituary. She had two sons in high school when she passed away.”

“Didn’t you go with her and another girl to Nashville one weekend?”
“Louisville!” he said as if he actually knew that was right.
“You didn’t drive. They picked you up in a muscle car,”
“Yep. A Camaro. It belonged to her sister’s friend-- she was driving.”
“That's right. That girl was a real looker too. Your mother worried all weekend,” he said.
“Not you though, huh dad?”
He made a sound that must be what is called a guffaw.

“No. Still can’t figure it out though.”

More miles went under the wheels of my truck.

“Who was the girl who lived over behind the shopping center?”
I thought a while.
“Denise. You’re thinking of Denise.”
He wasn’t sure. The name Denise didn't ring any bells.

“There was one with really long straight black hair. Spanish girl.”
“She’s half Mexican, dad. Her mother is Mexican-American.”
Beautiful girl,” dad said.
“She lives near Chicago last I knew. Married with kids. Mom used to run into her mom at Kroger’s and they kept up with all that stuff,” I said.

A few more miles went by.

He must have started worrying about bringing up the subject of my ex-girlfriends.
“Of course, the mother of my grandsons is just outstanding,” he said.
“Well, dad, you said yourself I always punched above my weight class.”

He looked puzzled.

“It's a saying. I meant I went out with women who were too good for me,” I said.

“Ha!” he said, “Never could understand it.”

Then he went back to sleep and I turned the radio back up. He didn't know the half of it.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

A Night of Firsts

Using a map from the local Conoco station I plotted my drive from the Wild American West to the Great American Southeast so as to freeload an overnight with old family friends, followed by a Friday night at Sparkle’s place. I didn’t need to get to my final destination until Sunday night so that left Saturday and Saturday night wide open for potential misbehavior in my old college town. When I stopped for lunch on Friday I calculated my estimated time of arrival and called Sparkle to let her know I wouldn’t get there until after 11 PM. As before, I got her housemate/tenant and she said she’d leave the message.

I pulled into the driveway at her rental house near campus at about 11:30 PM. It looked like the only light on in the house was a dim one in what I presumed was the living room. I knocked on the door hoping she was near the door—I didn’t want to ring the bell and wake the whole house if I didn’t have to do so. After a few moments a figure came to the door. It was Sparkle; rubbing her eyes, blind as a bat without her glasses, and dressed in a pale-colored kimono-type ankle-length robe.

As she opened the door I took one step in and without a word she put her arms around me and planted a kiss on my mouth. It was the first time we ever kissed. When I started to come up for air she would have nothing of it, she put her hands in my hair and opened her mouth wide and ran her tongue in my mouth. I reciprocated in a like manner with appropriate vigor.

Finally when we pulled apart I said,
“Damn you must have been having a helluva dream.”
“Oh, Daddy, you have no idea…”
“Daddy?” I thought. That was new.
I said I should bring some stuff in from the van. She said it could wait until morning.
Hell, why argue?

She took me by the hand and took me to her bedroom at the back of the first floor. It was a fair sized room lighted only by the pinkish glow from a small lamp on a chest of drawers. We faced each other and I made a quick mental note that the front of the robe, even when closed, afforded an excellent view of her more than ample cleavage. More kissing followed and a mutual craving was revealed.

I pulled on the end of the belt of her robe and it untied easily. The robe fell open and it was immediately clear to me that she had lost 10 to 15 pounds since I had last seen her. It didn’t appear that much of that total had come from her tits.
“Mmmm. Sit on the bed, Daddy,” Sparkle said in a little girl voice I'd never heard from her.
I figured I could do that so I did.
“Damn, you went out there and came back a cowboy, boots and all, didn’t you?”
“I guess I’m about as much a real cowboy as you are a Japanese girl, LJ,” I told her, referring to the kimono that was now on the floor.
She shook her head, grinning, and reached behind me to get a pillow. She dropped the pillow on the floor between us.
“Maybe you should stand back up, cowboy,” she said.
She got on her knees on the pillow as I stood.
“Let me show you something new I’ve learned, Daddy.”
She unzipped my jeans, got my hard cock out, and blew me for the first time.

Friday, April 16, 2010

All Night?

All night?
Well, maybe. Kinda. Sorta.

After some recovery time we tried it standing up. Sparkle put her hands on the dresser, bent over, and took a solid fucking in that position. Still, the memorable part for me was watching those huge tits swinging free in the mirror on top of the dresser. It was a good thing it was a furnished apartment or the only thing she could have been holding onto would have been a folding lawn chair or a card table. A belated thank you to my old landlord is appropriate here. Thanks!

After that we flopped on the bed and talked, eventually falling asleep-- a possible disqualification for “doin’ it all night” status. However, before dawn I woke up and, after some deliberation and generally not wanting my morning wood to go to waste, I nudged her awake. Before long she seemed as interested in more cock as I was in more Sparkle. I tried to maneuver her into position for a blow job but she deflected that nicely by getting on top of me. Straddling my hips she slipped my hard cock into her pussy and rocked back. We got a nice rhythm going and I was, once again, mesmerized by the swing and bounce of her breasts.

After showers and breakfast a certain awkwardness set in. Three sessions of fucking and not a single kiss. We drove back into town and I dropped her off at her dorm. It had been a pretty wild night. If I hadn’t cut through the student union that Friday afternoon it would never have happened.

Oddly, it was another two years plus before we got together again. We saw each other in class… and ran into each other from time to time during the following year… but we just never had another night together until I had been away from the university for more than a year.

Right after graduation I moved way out West for a job--- more about that later. It was a great experience in every way except for the fact that I was in a very small town and there weren’t many opportunities for activities with females. Plus one of those few opportunities could have brought about my murder. That would have been a shame, I think. Your attitude may vary. Anyway, again, more about that later. For now let’s just concentrate on what happened when I decided to move from the Wild and Wooly West to the American Southeast.

I didn’t have a lot of money to blow on hotels so I was figuring out a way to drive my van (by then I had traded my 2-seater for a van) on the 3 day/ 2 night trip on a route that might lead to crashing on friends’ couches. I had the first night figured out when I realized that, with a slight route change, I could stop for the second night in the good old college town of my dear old alma mater. But, did I know anybody there any more and, if so, did they have a couch I could use as a bed? I had stayed slightly in touch with Sparkle and wondered if she might have room. I made a call to the number I had and a voice I didn’t recognize answered. Luckily it was someone Sparkle sub-let a room to in the house she was renting. The tenant said she’d leave my message.

The next morning I was on the air doing one of my last shows for the station when Sparkle got through on the K_ _ _ Hit Line, baby! She sounded happy and as forward as ever. She loved the idea that she was on the phone with me while I was on the air. I talked to her while the songs played and she listened while I worked. It turned out she was agreeable to the idea of my stopping at her place, but she had a request since she was on the request line. Her request was such that if I had put it on the air the FCC would have pulled our ticket.

By the time I got off the phone with Sparkle I had a hard-on and I’m quite sure it wasn’t because of that super groovy Bellamy Brothers record I was playing for my vast audience of cows and sheep.

"'Let Your Love Flow', baybee!"

Friday, April 9, 2010

As Friday Becomes Saturday

Sparkle went through my record collection and found quite a few things she wanted to hear. She was partial to the R&B stuff which was cool with me. We talked a bit. I drank a beer or two. She drank tea—I was surprised to find out that she didn’t drink alcohol or do drugs. The image she projected wasn’t necessarily in synch with the real Sparkle. That was kinda interesting. I was somewhat attracted to her... but something put me off. Something that I couldn’t quite figure out. Years later I would deduce that it was just that she kept me off balance. I needed to be the aggressive one and she wasn’t letting me. Still, I could see myself fucking her. Yeah, I was sure that I could see that. Hell, I was pretty excited just to think I was going to get a look at her huge tits. What I didn’t have an urge to do was kiss her. I found it vaguely troubling that I felt that way. Not so troubling that it might get in the way of a good time... maybe I just needed another beer.

It was pretty dark in the apartment as we listened to the stereo and talked about nothing memorable. After a few albums Sparkle excused herself to use the bathroom. I lounged on the couch thinking about how good Marvin Gaye and Tammy Terrell sounded together. Sparkle seemed to be taking a long time to come back but that was no big deal since I still didn’t know how I was going to go about this anyway. I heard a door open and could sense that she was walking back into the living room.

She was now standing right in front of me. I looked up to see that she had nothing on but one of my t-shirts. It was a favorite shirt too—a white tee with the oval logo of an expedition outfitter I had used on a trip to Arizona. Sparkle was pulling it down at the hips but that didn’t do much good as it wasn’t long enough to cover up her pussy... which was right in front of my face now that I was sitting up. I looked up at her big titties stretching out my shirt. Fucccckkkk. I reclined and she put her hands on the back of the couch and leaned over me. I slid the t-shirt up and exposed her breasts as they hung right over my face.

I got both hands on them and took each, one at a time, in my mouth. Licking her swelling, firm nipples. Catching my teeth lightly on those nipples and tugging at them. Sucking those tits into my mouth as far as I could. They were the biggest, prettiest pair I’d ever seen. I bounced them around and gently slapped at them. When I put my face between them she shook those beauties back and forth and smacked me with them. Then I took the right one firmly in my left hand. I pushed my mouth onto it and shook my head from side to side like a puppy with a chew toy. I pulled back a bit and rubbed her tit, wet from my tongue, back and forth across my face. I squeezed it hard as I reached my right hand down to her pussy. There I found the wettest cunt I’ve ever had my hands on. I leaned forward, slid my hand down and found that she had Sparkle juice running down both thighs.

“Stand up,” I said. And as she started to do so I smacked her right tit with my left hand and put my palm over her dirty blond bush. She was absolutely sloppy. Gushing wet.
“Get in there,” I said. Sparkle said nothing, grinned, and went straight to the bedroom.
“And take that fuckin’ shirt off before you ruin it!” I yelled at her as she disappeared.

I stood up and got completely undressed in the living room. I may not want to kiss her, but I sure as hell was going to nail that big-titted slut’s juicy cunt. Playing with her had given me a good hard-on that was still nearly at full strength when I walked into the bedroom. Sparkle had turned off all the lights but the one in the closet. She had left the closet door slightly open so there was some light in the room. She was nude on her back on the bed. She was moaning and clutching her left breast in her left hand. Her left foot was flat on the bed; her left knee up. Her right leg was on the bed and her right hand was at her pussy rubbing furiously. She glanced at me and I saw an arc of something gush from between her legs. It was a spurt that went about a foot or two. Then it happened again. I thought at the time that she was pissing in my bed. Not quite.

My dick was as hard as it could get as I slipped onto the bed, between her legs. My hand went to her cunt and she was both slippery and sticky depending on where I touched her. I leaned forward and squeezed her tits together. They really were unbelievable. The aureoles were enormous. The nipples big and firm. I reached between my legs and got my cock by the root, stroked the head along her pussy lips, and then pushed it into her. Sparkle was warm, soaked, and loose as I started to pound in and out of her. I wasn’t worried about needing to get her off-- clearly she had already cum before I got into her.
There was so little friction on my cock as I banged away at her I thought I could go forever without cumming. I didn't want that. I wanted to do her hard and fast. I slammed away. When I was about ready to unload I grabbed her legs behind the knees with both hands and pushed them apart and back towards her shoulders. I finished her off for the first time that night by driving down into her as deep as I could go. As I shot my cumload I pressed in as far as I could, held it right there, and then just ground into her.
Spent, I collapsed onto her, my head between her tits.

After a minute or so Sparkle said, “I’m still alive.”
I lifted my head. “What?” I said.
“I figured you were listening for my heartbeat.”
She laughed.
I didn’t. I rolled off her.
I stared at the ceiling and thought.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go again,” Sparkle said.
I rolled over onto my side looking at her.
“All night, LJ?”
“Well, I can. But I doubt if you can,” she said.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

One Friday Night

The sentence Sparkle wrote on the back of the page was a blunt proposition. It was taken from the main character in the story of mine that she was critiquing. The tale involved a guy, a girl, a cheap motel, and the proposal of an evening of vigorous copulation. I looked at what she wrote and laughed. She was about the only woman I’d met at that point in my life who would write such a thing to a guy she didn’t really know—joke or otherwise.

I drank my beer and wondered if she was serious or being a goof. It was just part of her flamboyant nature. Maybe I’d call her bluff. Maybe I’d ignore it and see if she ever brought it up. A couple weeks went by and I saw her in class a couple times a week. The only time we talked to each other was as we departed the English building and there were always other people walking along with us. Her daring proposition turned into something that was no longer in the front of my brain.

One late Friday afternoon I had finished some work in the Radio-TV building and cut through the student union on the way across campus to where my car was parked. I had nothing fun planned for the weekend but I was looking forward to sitting out in my lonely little apartment outside of town and reading, maybe watching some sports on TV, studying, jerking off. The usual stuff you do when you live alone and nobody is coming over to visit.

I looked in the direction of my name and saw Sparkle sitting on a couch with a friend of hers. I walked over to them, she introduced her friend, brief chit-chat ensued, then the friend looked at Sparkle and said she needed to get going. Byes all around. Off she went.
"Have a seat, Wil,” Sparkle said.
I dropped onto the couch. I looked at her and couldn’t think of a single bit of small talk that she wouldn’t mock. She, on the other hand, had no problem getting the conversation started.

“Do you read the comments that people write on your stuff?” she asked.
“Some of it. Mostly it sounds like they didn’t read it. They just write sumpthin’ because they’re s’posed to,” I said.
“I know what you mean. You never write anything interesting on my papers, Wil.”
“I try to,” I said, “I guess I’m not very good at constructive criticism.”
“Are my comments about your writing constructive?”
“Some have been quite eye-opening,” I said.

She smiled.

“Oh?” Sparkle said.

I nodded.

“You busy tonight?” she said.
“Nope.” I said.
“Wanna?” she asked.
“I’m not paying for a motel, Sparkle. But I have a nice apartment and no roommates.”
She stood up. Grabbed her huge shoulder bag, and a stack of books off the couch and looked down at me.
“Let’s go,” she said.

On the drive to my place we stopped at a DQ to eat. Farther up the road Sparkle asked me to stop at a small strip shopping center. She ran into a drugstore and came out in a few minutes with a small paper bag. When she got back into my little two-seater I looked at her with a questioning look.
“Tooth brush,” she said.
“What? Are ya fuckin’ movin’ in or sumpthin’?”
“No! Jerk. I care about oral hygiene! You do own toothpaste I can borrow, right?”
“I suppose,” I said.

As we were clomping up the stairs on the outside of my apartment I considered that this was a really bad idea. More than it being a bad idea, it had crossed my mind that it wasn’t my idea. Not long ago I was musing about calling her bluff. She had called mine and then some.

Still, walking behind her on the stairs I realized that there was a lot to work with when it came to Sparkle. A helluva lot.
I showed her around the apartment and Sparkle said, “About what I figured. Too neat. Too orderly.”
I shrugged.
“Sorry. I could mess stuff up if it would make you feel more comfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said.


I was.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Sparkle and Shine

The rest of the evening with Mona was filled with fun and frolic-- interspersed with brief periods of rest. Sunday morning after we showered she packed up her stuff and we went to Perkins for breakfast. When we got back to my place I helped her load up her Camaro and she roared on down Rte. 50 headed for home.

I saw her again that summer and we fucked some; but she was done with me. Not much more to tell about Mona. I have no idea where she lives today. I hope she's well. She taught me a lot.

I never did figure out if she engineered my breakup with Sharon. In the end, it really didn't matter.

During that semester I was also hanging out with Ann and Sparkle. Ann lived near my home and Sparkle was at school so never the twain did meet. (That made no sense and I'm ashamed I typed it.) I mentioned them some time ago, but since I post so infrequently it would be pretty stupid for me to think you remember anything about those two. Here's part of what I wrote about Sparkle way back in October...

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.

Sparkle's real name was L.J.M. but everybody knew her by her nickname which I have barely disguised as Sparkle. Believe me, if you were around the English building on campus in those years you knew Sparkle. She was the most over-the-top, flamboyant person I've ever known-- and I've known a few crazy-ass people. She was, by outward appearances, fearless. She wasn't a slim woman but she wasn't overweight either. Well, not way overweight. She was very, um, curvy. That doesn't quite tell it. Think Jayne Mansfield with a little extra baby fat.

OK. Maybe more than a little extra baby fat. But the thing was, Sparkle never tried to dress to understate her size and shape. The opposite was true. She delighted in just spilling out everywhere in the most outrageous clothes. Low cut tops. High cut shorts when spring arrived. Plus shoes that would make a hooker blush. And bleached hair. She was blind as a bat and wore glasses with frames from decades previous-- because glasses that were current and fashionable would have been way too common for Sparkle.

I found her interesting as a character, but I wasn't interested in, ya know, going out with her. Hell, Sparkle kind of scared me in the way that one of those roller coasters that flips you upside down scares me.

Early on in the term, before I had ever actually had a conversation with her, I was walking along the brick walkways of the main part of campus when I saw her walking towards me. Rather than act like I didn't recognize her from class I said, "hey" in my monotone, non-committal, dullard way when we were about two steps from each other. Sparkle dropped her voice about three octaves and said, "hey" back. I didn't look back despite her mocking tone. Then I heard her yell at me, "Mr. Wilson!" in her normal voice. I stopped, turned and looked at her, "What?"

"Don't be an ass. You should always be happy to see me!" she said.

From that point on we always spoke to each other around campus. I tried to be polite to her and she always looked at me with this knowing look. Like there was something going on that I was supposed to know about. But I sure as hell didn't know what it was.

The professor had us make enough copies of everything we wrote (sometimes, not always) to pass out to all the others in the class. Before the next class we were supposed to read everyone's work and write brief comments in the margins. One assignment I wrote something that was pretty much a ripoff of Charles Bukowski. Dark, dirty, in a drunkard's voice. At the end of class the prof (who by the way correctly saw it as Bukowski inspired) collected all the critiques and we got them from him on the way out. I threw my stack in my backpack and drove out to the apartment.

Sitting at the kitchen table drinking a Golden Goebel I flipped through them. Most of the comments were worthless-- I figured that most people didn't actually read the story. One of the women in class wrote a lot and hated it, hated me, and wondered why I celebrated degenerative characters. She was pretty smart and I took her charges to heart. Then I hit one where all that was written, at the bottom of the first page, was "over". I turned the sheet over and saw a single sentence followed by the initials LJM.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Model

Film was a lot more monetarily precious than a digital image is today so it was very important that my model was ready before I fired the first frame. Cheap red wine helped. A great deal. After she had a glass she reapplied her lipstick and we started making pictures.

For the first third or so Mona was in bra, panties, and boots-- all black. Through the next third she lost the bra and then the panties. Thinking that I might actually be able to use some of these shots for a future photography class I took about ten of her nude. They were sufficiently arty. And then I was out of black and white film. Which meant we were in an over-bright bedroom with me in my clothes and Mona naked-- there was only one thing to do.

I kept my clothes on, turned off the photo lights, put the camera down, and got on the floor at the foot of the bed. I pulled her towards me and she put her legs on my shoulders. I buried my face between her legs and ate her muff like a starving man. I tongued and nibbled at her lips. I avoided her clit but I teased, licked, and nibbled her everywhere else I could find. Then I started working two fingers into her soaked cunt. I twisted my hand while sliding my fingers into Mona's slit. I screwed in and out of her using three fingers—getting as deep into her as I could get. She was wide open and breathing noisily. At that point I finally started working her clit with my lips and tongue, always careful not to put the tip of my tongue right on her warm pink button.

She squirmed and thrashed. Her hips bucked. Then she grabbed my hair with both hands and screamed. My model came on my face.

I stood up, took my clothes off, and stroked my cock up hard while looking at her beautiful, nude body. She was spent but smiling. I reached down, got my hands on her hips and pulled her ass to the edge of the bed. I spread her legs apart and buried my cock into her steaming pussy in one stroke.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Photo Processing

I have it on fairly good authority that, these days, people make self-portrait photographs and send said photos via the Internet to friends. There is a rumor out there that sometimes the portrait subject in these photos is in varying stages of undress. I am attempting to verify the veracity of this assertion. It sounds somewhat plausible given my understanding of human beings. I’ve heard that such revealing photos can even be made using a cell phone. Imagine that. The mind boggles. What I do know for sure is that at the time that Mona and I were fucking around with each other there was nothing of the sort available to us. Hell, home video and the porn explosion was still several years off. Mona assured me she was serious about wanting to take some revealing photos-- but then she pointed out that she hadn’t brought along a Polaroid camera. I told her that I didn’t own one either.

Polaroid marketed their cameras as being able to give you instant photo gratification. You could see images of your fun activities immediately. You know, kid’s birthday parties, Little League ballgames… No need to wait for the drugstore to develop the film. Of course, in reality, a lot of Polaroid film was used to shoot pictures you didn’t want the druggist to see. Or the photo processing machine operator. And you definitely didn’t want the Fotomat girl to see those shots!

What? You don’t know about Fotomats? They were all the rage in the 70’s. What an innovation. Instead of driving to the drug store or photo shop you could motor up to the Fotomat kiosk with the bright yellow roof in the grocery store parking lot. Inside was a hot babe wearing a polyester yellow and red (Kodak’s colors) uniform. They even wore these mod lookin’ caps. Although after a year or so I noticed the clerks were less apt to be wearing the groovy Kodak unis. A corporate cost cutting move, no doubt. Anyway, the Fotomat bunny would take your film roll, write up your information on an envelope, give you the receipt and you could drive away—never having left your car. Sometimes she’d write her own phone number on the other side of the receipt just in case. Or so I’ve heard. The little kiosks were just big enough for one person and they must have been miserable in really hot or really cold weather. At least Kimmy always complained about how uncomfortable they were. But that’s a story for another day. Anyway, you didn’t want the Fotomat clerk looking through your dirty pictures any more than you wanted old man Gower, the druggist, eyeballin’ pictures of your girlfriend’s sweet frame.

So, Mona thought we had a big dilemma. Until I pointed out that: 1) I knew how to develop B&W film, 2) I made my own enlargements/ prints, and 3) I had access to the darkrooms at the fine arts building.

She just stared at me silently as we drove towards my apartment. I kept cutting my eyes over at her and she was always frozen-- looking at me. I suspected I had called her bluff and she was trying to figure out how to back out of our little photo session.
“You aren’t kidding, are you?” she said.
Long pause.

“This is gonna be so fuckin’ hot, Wil.”

While I got some lights set up in the bedroom Mona went into the bathroom to get herself fixed up.
It took her longer than it took me so I sat and waited for a while. It was worth the wait. She came in wearing a black bra, matching panties, and the black boots she’d been wearing.
“Whaddaya think? Is this OK?”

What I thought was… I’m going to fire through this 36 shot roll in about two minutes so I can get back to fucking this woman…

What I said was, “Hmmm. Maybe. Turn around so I can be sure.”
“Sooooo?” she said after I had taken my time looking her over.
“Just one problem. I’ll be right back,” I said.
I came back from the kitchen with a pair of scissors.

Mona scrunched her face.
“What are those for?”
“Just turn around,” I said.
When she turned around I turned the waist band down on her panties and cut off the white tag. Then I turned the bra hook area out and cut the tags off there too.
“There,” I said, “Trust me, the Penthouse Pets don’t let their underwear tags show. I’ve studied this.”
“Thanks, college boy,” Mona said.
Young 70's era man in a 2 seat Italian sports car chatting up the Fotomat babe.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Saturday Around Town

Mona was pretty good at sensing when I was ready to cum.
Maybe I was giving some audible cues.
Who knows?

Anyway, she was able to slide up and catch my cock between her fine, firm tits, squeeze them together with both hands, and push down onto me as I unloaded. No sooner had I stopped gushing jizz on us when she slid up, getting sticky cum all over, kissed me and said, “Well, Good morning!”
“Mornin’” I mumbled back.
“Sweetie, I have a tough time swallowing cum first thing in the morning,” she said, “I hope that was okay.”
Then she laughed, jumped out of bed, and scampered out of the room calling back over her shoulder, “I’m takin’ a shower. Join me, ok?”

Oh hell, I wasn’t that easy. I didn’t move a muscle. For about a half a minute. (I knew the water wouldn’t be hot yet.)

“Um, I need to uh… could you step out for a second,” I said when I got to the bathroom.
“I suppose. But it’s no big deal. You can piss in front of me, Wil.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can’t.”

That was the first time I ever washed a woman’s hair for her. Have to admit, I enjoyed it. She said she did too. She got a pretty thorough cleansing everywhere else too. Certain areas I probably over-washed. I figured it was good to overdo the lathering and rinsing than to leave any square inch dirty. I’ve been praised for my thoroughness in many endeavors.


I got dressed for the day and made coffee for us. For the next hour or two Mona got ready. By the time she was prepared to go into town my whole apartment smelled of smoke, hair spray, and perfume. I didn’t mind. She had tried on about three different outfits from her huge suitcase. Eventually she decided on a pair of black pants, black boots, and a very low cut, tight, light colored sweater. She was an eyeful. And then some.

We rode into town in my little two-seater. I took her on a tour of campus—the first time she’d ever been there. Then we joined the Saturday parade of people walking along the several blocks of uptown college town streets. I went into stores I’d never entered before and went past all the ones I haunted. She bought stuff and I helped carry bags of clothes and trinkets.

We stopped at a tavern I frequented for lunch and a beer. I noticed that people looked at us longer than I was used to people looking at me. Not exactly staring, but lingering. I didn’t blame them. I knew they weren't looking at me.

It was getting to be late afternoon when I saw some people I knew walking towards us on the main street near the campus gate; a guy and two girls I knew from the dorm and dining hall sophomore year. I introduced everybody and we talked a bit when the guy said, “Wil, can I talk to you for a second?”
I excused us and walked a little way down the sidewalk while Mona and the two women chatted about... I have no idea what.

“OK, Wil, how the hell do you know her?”
“I met her through someone I worked with… why?” I wasn’t about to get any further into it than that.
“I swear, Wil, she was in Penthouse last summer!”
“You fuckin’ idiot,” I said.
“Seriously, man, I mean I can’t tell for sure unless she’s naked and I’m holding her up by my left hand while I’m jerking off with my right, but she sure looks like the July Pet of the month.”
I shook my head and walked back to the ladies. Within a few moments we were all on our merry way.

“They seemed nice,” Mona said.
“I guess. I don’t really know those two… just saw them around last year,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” she said in a way that conveyed that she wasn't buying it.

“What did he want to talk to you about?”
“He’s a fuckin’ idiot.”
“Why?" she laughed, "What did he want?”
C’mon, what did he want to talk about?”
“Oh, he was just jerkin’ me around. Said he’d seen your picture in a magazine.”
“Magazine?” Mona said, “What was that supposed to mean?”

I just looked at her.
“Uh, it was along the lines of-- you’re too hot to be hanging around with me,” I said.
Ohhhh. Like a girly magazine!”
Mona laughed.
We walked along a few steps without talking.

“That’s kinda cool, actually. I’d love to be in Playboy.”
“Think more like Penthouse,” I said.
“Is that better or worse?”
“It’s, uh, dirtier,” I said.
She held onto my arm as we walked along.
“Dirtier sounds even better, Wil.”
My mind was pondering the fact that there was no fucking way I could ever keep up with this woman-- that it was just a matter of time before she'd be done with me-- when she spoke again.
“Why don’t we go back to your place and take some pictures?”

Thursday, January 28, 2010

The Visit

Mona called from a pay phone about an hour up the road. She had gotten a late start and then made a wrong turn on the outer belt around the state capital. That added another half hour. I was already anxious about her coming for the weekend and the fact that she was late just made it worse. Was Chet out of the picture? Was I just being used to get back at Chet? I had no idea.

My apartment outside of dear old college town was basically half of a second story above a business by the highway. There was no stairway inside—the only way to my door was a long, black metal stair on the side of the building. It was kind of like a fire escape bolted to the wall. There was a long climb up to a landing where my door was. One of the benefits of this odd setup was that, as long as my stereo wasn’t blaring, I could hear anyone coming up the stairs. I was sitting in the living room watching my 10” B&W TV that got 3 stations via rabbit ears when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I opened the door before Mona got to the landing.

I welcomed her into my humble home. We hugged. Her hair smelled like cigarette smoke. I have never been a smoker but most of the women I, er, spent time with back in those days were smokers. I struggle to remember what brand of soda or beer any of them preferred but I remember well the favorite cigarette brand of each. (for example: Sharon- Winston and, incongruously, Marlboro occasionally, Denise- Tareyton at first, then Benson & Hedges 100’s, then Virginia Slims, Suzanne- Salem, Kendra- Virginia Slims, Jackie- non-smoker… and on and on.) Why is that, I wonder? I have a theory but I won’t bore you with it. So, of course Mona smelled like smoke; she had, no doubt, been working her way through a pack of Winstons all the way down the road.

I went clomping down to her Camaro to haul her luggage up. She had a gigantic light blue Samsonite suitcase and one of those matching box-like cases with the handle on the top that held cosmetics and toiletries. You don’t see those much any more. They were designed like a tackle box with cantilevered trays under the lid and a mirror built-in to the underside of the top. Well, the mirror part wasn’t like a tackle box. But you knew that. So I got her stuff moved in and put it in the bedroom. I gave her the quick tour: this is the living room, there’s the kitchen, the bathroom is there and the bedroom is across form the bath. That took about 10 seconds.

Mona reported that she was exhausted from the drive and plopped down on the couch while I got her a beer. We talked for a while and she was barely able to keep her eyes open. I'm such a sparkling conversationalist. She got ready for bed first and I followed her ten minutes later nervous with anticipation. When I got into bed I could hear her slow breathing—not snoring exactly, that would sound really unromantic. I said her name softly and got no response. I stared at the ceiling in the dark for a long time before I too fell asleep. What an exciting reunion!

I awoke Saturday morning before dawn with Mona pressed on top of me kissing my chest.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep last night, sweetie” she said.
I said nothing, but put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her down my body until her mouth found my stiffening cock.
Winston magazine ad from mid- 1970's