Crack The Whip

Closing The Sale

2012-01-26T21:15:00.001-05:00

I went back to the store to talk to Pamela a few times and she was always too busy to talk business. Meanwhile I was getting nowhere with my budding side career of selling ad time for the station. Thankfully I was getting good feedback from people, including my boss, about my on-air exploits. And that was, after all, what was really important. This sales gig was just a way to kill time in the afternoon every day-- to keep me out of trouble. Mostly the trouble I was staying out of was a 17 year old waitress at the diner. But if things didn't start looking up on the female front she was going to turn 18 and then I'd be out of excuses to keep from taking a run at her. Mandy was kind of cute. Sweet, sorta dumb, stacked, and cute.

I dropped by Pamela's Place for Gifts around 4 PM on a Monday. Pam saw me come through the door and strolled over to me.

“Can you come by at noon tomorrow?”

“Yeah... but aren't you closed between noon and one on Tuesdays?”

“It looks like it's the only way we'll be able to talk and everything. Just try to get here a couple minutes before noon so I don't lock you out, OK?” she said.

The next morning I got off the air at 10AM and spent an hour making sure I was ready to close the sale and get Pamela's ads on the air. Then I walked across the highway to the gas station and got a bag of chips and a Coke for lunch from their vending machines. Hey, my commission from a flight of spots for Pamela's Place for Gifts would just about cover two days worth of chips. (Clearly, this wasn't about the money.)

I washed the potato chip grease off my hands back at the radio station restroom and drove into town. After parking a couple doors down I popped into her shop five minutes before noon. By ten after twelve Pamela had the customers out, the door locked, and we were walking to the back room of the shop making small talk.

Most backrooms of retail stores are dirty, cluster-fucked places. This one was orderly. She unlocked the door to her private office-- a room about 12 X 12 with a beautiful wooden desk, high-back chair, and a small couch. Pamela turned on the lights-- not the harsh overhead fluorescent but a floor lamp and a desk lamp. I was such a rookie at the time in the business world that I didn't recognize that everything I was seeing added up to someone who wasn't in business to scratch out a living.

I took a seat on the couch as she excused herself to use the restroom. The five minutes or so I waited for her to return seemed like a half hour. I'm not sure what all she did while I waited but she definitely had brushed her hair and freshened her scent. Right up to that point I had seen Pamela as a very attractive, friendly, engaging woman. But, I figured her to be about ten years older than me and not really somebody who would have any interest in a fresh-out-of-college guy like me. I had no problem thinking about her as an aid to my self-pleasuring activities, but that's not quite the same as thinking of her in terms of dinner and a movie. The idea of an older woman and a younger man together wasn't unheard of-- hell, I'd seen The Graduate back when I was in high school. But, let's just say I understood the Katharine Ross part of that movie a lot more than the Anne Bancroft part from Dustin's point-of-view. Then again, Pamela was way cooler, and younger, than Anne Bancroft.

She had me put the sales materials I'd brought along on her desk and I delivered my spiel as we stood side by side. Pamela was to my right and when I asked her if she had any questions she leaned across me as she spoke and pointed at one of my charts using her right hand. As she did that her left breast pressed against my right biceps. I noticed but didn't exactly jump out of the way. In fact, I kind of held my ground. A few minutes later she did it again. She was out of questions then and said, “Well, you made the sale, Billy. Good job.” She rubbed my back with her left hand as she said, “You can relax now. I'll write a check for the first week of ads, OK?”

She walked around the desk, sat in her big boss chair, and pulled a folder out of the desk drawer that contained her company checks. “Three spots on Thursday, three Friday, and two on Saturday-- all during your show,” Pamela said.

She scratched out the check for the correct amount. She had been paying attention to my sales pitch.

I told her I'd call her later and let her hear the commercial I was going back to the station to write and record. She smiled at me like she had a big secret that I couldn't possibly guess. Partly a smirk, partly a smile-- all very knowing.

She walked me to the front door of the store and unlocked it. Before she let me out Pamela said, “We'll take this one week at a time to see how it works out. Is there a problem with you coming here every Tuesday at noon so we can go over any changes to the ad copy... number of spots... anything else that comes up?”

“No. That's no problem. It comes under the heading of servicing your account,” I said.

She laughed out loud. I was embarrassed. I hadn't meant it to sound dirty. I started out the door.

"Oh, and Billy... from now on park a few blocks away from the store and knock on the back door off the alley at 12:15... every Tuesday, OK?"

"Sure," I said. I had no idea why I couldn't park my van in front of the store. I figured she didn't want me taking a parking space that a customer could use.

Driving back to the station I felt like such a goober. I was even trying to talk myself out of the idea that she had flirted with me. I thought about how great she looked and smelled. I heard her voice. And I could still feel her tit pushing against my arm. Soft, but not too soft.

I called her at about 5 o'clock and played the spot for her over the phone. She said it was good. Very good. She was all business. I assumed there were customers in the store.

January

2012-01-25T15:52:00.000-05:00

A few things coming about Pamela... and her friend Dawn.
Soon, I hope.

Cold Calls

2011-12-22T11:26:00.000-05:00

My sales training lasted about fifteen minutes. Most of that time Uncle Bobby spent teaching me that I wasn't selling advertising, or commercial spots, or even the radio station. I was selling my, our, audience to anyone who wanted to communicate something to them. Another instance where I learned more from Bob than all of my college professors combined. But that's a variation of a song I've been whistling all my life. At least when I went to school it was affordable. By now I've spent a fortune on several, let's just stick with 'several' shall we, educations. Maybe someday I'll get some benefit from so much bread cast upon the waters. I'm waiting. Patiently.

The station's sales manager didn't have much to say. He didn't manage any people actually since there were no sales reps other than him. I found out later that Uncle Bobby actually handled the biggest billing accounts himself so, I suppose, the sales manager saw me as, at best, a nuisance and, at worst, competition. His input came at the end when he handed me a list of all the accounts that were off-limits. It was a long list for such a small community.

I took that afternoon driving all around town checking storefronts against his list. I came up with about a dozen places where I would start trying my hand at selling. The next afternoon I began calling on those businesses. At the first place the only person in the shop wasn't the decision maker-- I'd come back later. Store number two was satisfied with the Yellow Pages being their only ad outlet. I put them down as "undecided". The next stop was a small rectangular shop crammed with gifts, plants, bric-a-brac, hand-crafted items and so on. At the far corner of the shop I could see two women talking. I waited at the front register.

A few minutes later one of the two women made her way through the store towards me. It had been a long, dry period since Denise had given me nasty good-bye sex, but even if I had been getting laid every night in my little trailer the woman walking towards me would have brought me to attention.

"Is there something I can help you find?" she said.

She had a very welcoming smile and demeanor.
"Actually, I'm looking for the manager..."
"Well, there isn't really one of those... I'm the owner, manager, bookkeeper, janitor... you name it."
As I started to reply she broke into a big grin.
"You're Billy The Kid!"
"Nobody actually calls me that," I said.
"You do! I listen to you all morning and you call yourself 'Billy The Kid' all the time!" she said.
"It's the station owner's idea.... I never used that name on air before..."
"Old Bob's a cheap S.O.B."

She knew Uncle Bobby. That figures-- small town and all-- but it made me wary. I wasn't about to agree that Bob was a cheapskate.
"Why does his naming me Billy The Kid make him, uh, frugal?"
"He had a morning guy a few years ago by that name and already had all those jingle thingies made up. Plus now he's making you go out and sell advertising too... I assume that's why you're here. Nah, Bob's a cheap bastard, but I love him just the same," she said.
All of this was throwing me for a loop. I felt like the biggest no-nothing idiot on planet Earth.

She read the distress on my face I suppose as she quickly asked, "If you're not 'The Kid', what's your real name?"
I told her.
"Well, Wil, it's nice to meet you. My name's Pamela. Pamela Scoggins."
"It's nice to meet you, Pamela. I've learned a great deal from you in a short time. Kinda knocked me sideways," I said.
"Aw, don't be all down, Sweetie!"
Pamela reached out and put her left hand on my right shoulder while grabbing my right forearm with her right hand.
"You're gonna do just fine here. Hell, half the town's already talkin' about you, darlin'."
She let go of me and I said, "They are? I mean, who is?"
"Most everybody I talk to. We all listen to you every morning. You're the best thing that ever happened to that station in the ten years I've been here. So cheer up. You're doin' great."

"Well... in that case Pamela... maybe we should talk about you advertising on that great morning show..."
"Slow down, Slick. I'm closing up for my lunch hour. Come back tomorrow afternoon and we can discuss it," Pamela said.
"Tomorrow afternoon it is," I said.
"See you then, Wil."

I decided that there was no reason to make any further cold calls that afternoon. I drove out to my tin can home and spent some quality time alone.

Free Time

2011-12-06T11:32:00.000-05:00

I could say that I learned more in the first six months working for Uncle Bobby at his little radio station just east of the Rocky Mountains than I learned in four years of college. I could say that easily, but the larger truth is that I learned more about business in the first couple weeks at K--- Radio than I've ever learned at any school.

The work side of life was going great. I was barely making more than minimum wage and I was living in a tin can owned by my boss and all I wanted to do was work-- nothing better than that, right? My first week or so on the air was kind of rough-- I guess I was a little short on confidence. I was doing morning drive. It's called that because it's the time that people are sitting in traffic listening to the radio. But I was broadcasting to people who would have to travel for hours to find a traffic jam. More cattle were being driven than cars in my little audience. I started to loosen up by week two and by the second month I thought I was doing well enough to start thinking about a bigger market. But I had told the owner that I was in for six months minimum so I settled in and started having fun playing the hits.

The station was outside of town in a white concrete block building with the call letters and frequency painted in red and black on the front. To call it a station logo would be to set the graphic arts back several centuries. Inside the building was a tiny reception area, station owner Uncle Bobby's office, another smaller office for the sales manager, the control room, and a production room for cutting spots (recording commercials) that was the size of a walk-in closet. There was also a record library that doubled as a room for the announcers to sit down and use the phone. Just that and a unisex bathroom. There was a coffee pot in the reception area and if you wanted a can of Coke or a pack of crackers the service station across the highway had vending machines. Ah, show business.

So there I was. A castaway on the prairie makin' with the snappy patter, weather, news, and sports between "Time In A Bottle" and "Kung Fu Fighting" five days a week between 6 and 10 AM and Saturdays between 10 and 2. At some point during those first couple of months it dawned on me-- I wasn't getting laid. Not even close.

To make celibacy tougher, I had time on my hands. I'd get off the air at 10 AM and sit in the music library or cut spots until lunch. I usually went to one of two local diners for lunch, ate alone, and waited to glimpse a woman who might be silly enough to hang out with the local morning guy who went by the on-air name of Billy The Kid. (That name was Uncle Bobby's idea, not mine by the way.) Nobody fitting the description ever came through the door. I dreaded heading out to my dismal trailer in the evening. Luckily I had to go to bed early to get up for my 6 AM shift. On Sundays I'd just drive all over the area taking photographs and hiking around.

One afternoon I asked the station owner if there was more work I could do. I was thinking maybe I could do something for Bobby at another station-- he owned two others in a couple of small towns a couple hours away. But he suggested something I never even considered-- selling station advertising. I immediately agreed to give it a try completely out of the lack of anything else to do in the afternoons. The decision changed my life-- not only because it altered my career path but because the third business I called on as a spot peddler was a gift shop run by Pamela Scoggins.

Life In A Tin Can

2011-11-10T10:59:00.001-05:00

It's true, living alone in a trailer did make me long for the days back in the dorms at good old alma mater.

In fact, the longer I alternately boiled and froze in my $15/ month home the more I thought about the dorms... especially late at night...

Communal living had it all over the cold and lonely life.

Then again, my mind might have been playing tricks on me.

An Adventure Begins

2011-11-09T14:18:00.000-05:00

About half way through my last year in college I started to wonder what I ~~would~~ could do for a living. My degree wasn't going to be much help-- something I maybe should've figured out before I started school. I had, however, taken a lot of radio, TV and film courses as electives. What the hell, maybe I could make a living on the radio. Hey, dumber things happen every day! As I neared graduation I started sending out dozens of resumes and air checks.

About a week after I moved back home I had a couple of responses. To make a boring story shorter, one was for an off-air job in a mid-sized market and the other was on-air in a market too small to be classed as a small market. We're talking tiny. Now the mid-sized market could lead to on-air job eventually and clearly was the smarter way to go. But the other one was out West in the shadow of the Rockies and meant being on the air every morning-- I gave them a call.

Turns out the guy I was calling actually owned the station. We talked for a while and he finally said, "Look, I can't be flyin' you all the way out here just to interview. I'll hire ya sight unseen if you promise that even if ya hate it here you'll give me six months." That sounded great to me. After all, I was young and dumb. I had to move myself out there, a very long two days of driving, but my new boss, Uncle Bobby, was going to front me $100 towards the move. The rate of pay? Well, I could have made as much mowing yards. But as the old punchline goes, "What, give up show business?!?"

Plus, Uncle Bobby knew how tough it was to find housing in his windswept paradise so he was going to let me use a place he had for just $15/ month. I don't have a picture of that palace but here's a reasonable facsimile.

OK. It might have been a little nicer...

Yeah, that's it.

Now I know what you're thinking.

A place like that?

Two words.

Pussy magnet.

Right?

Get Off My Lawn, You Damn Kids!

2011-10-31T10:18:00.000-04:00

When I was considerably younger nobody over the age of twelve dressed up in costumes for Halloween. In fact, you didn't want to be the dope who dressed up one year longer than all the cool kids. Showing up for school in your homemade hobo outfit when everybody else was in their normal peg-leg pants, white socks, loafers, and paisley shirts meant you weren't in the clique. Even if you had the latest Jan & Dean single before everybody else you were still a big dork.

Of course now fifty-two year olds dress up as harlots and nobody blinks an eye. And their wives wear even more outrageous costumes! I'm not against it, I'm just making a hackneyed observation. I hear there's an opening for the final five minutes on 60 Minutes.

Back in my day we bobbed for apples. Motherfuckers.

I never finished writing about...

2011-10-04T10:01:00.000-04:00

Memories

2011-09-30T11:49:00.002-04:00

Back Home, But First

2011-05-13T15:45:00.004-04:00

I started to get the distinct feeling that I was going to unload in Candy's hungry mouth. It seemed a bit, um, premature to me. So I pulled back and got her off my cock. Looking at her big tits I figured a serious titty-fucking would be a great idea. But then again I had spent so much energy getting her pussy worked into a lather earlier... yes, better to bury it balls deep into that sweet, young slit.

I stepped over to the dresser where I had put my Walgreen's purchase and rolled a condom onto my stiff dick. As I walked back over to the bed she got flat on her back. She was in the middle of the bed so I grabbed her ankles with both hands and jerked her across the bed. When her ass was at the edge I put her legs in the air. As I let go she dropped her feet down but kept her knees pointed towards the ceiling. I ran the tip of my sheathed cock along her opening. She was still slick and I slipped into her easily. My feet were both on the floor so I had plenty of purchase as I got a steady rhythm going, filling her with cock, backing out to the tip, and then back in.

Candy let out a high-pitched squeak with every thrust. Sometimes it was a "yeah"... sometimes "fuck"... other times "oh"... but she made a noise every time I rammed it back into her. And with every thrust her big tits would float towards her shoulders and then roll back down. Up and back, up and back, until she'd hold them in both hands and tug at her nipples and moan an "oh fucccckkkkk" in time with the steady motion of my cock driving in and out of her slippery cunt.

The condom lessened the sensitivity so my feeling of urgency waned a bit. Still, the visual of this big-titted young girl taking my cock in her mouth and now her pussy was eventually going to trip all the switches and connect the circuits. After a good steady fucking I felt that rumble deep in my balls and picked up the pace, got her behind the knees, and pushed them up towards her head. With that I got a bit more depth and her high-pitched vocalizations turned guttural.
"Oh gawd fuck my pussy baby...fuck me .... gawd fuck me..." she repeated over and over and over.

I got her ass right to the edge of the bed and positioned her so her bare feet were on my chest so I could lean over her as we fucked. In that position I was driving almost straight down into her cunt and I tripled the speed and jack-hammered away at her fresh snatch. The sounds she made now weren't recognizable as actual words. Finally, I unloaded. And held still-- buried as far into her as I could possibly go.

--------
About fifteen minutes later Candy said, "Omigod... I'm so late."
She jumped off the bed and started to pull her panties and sundress back on. "Oh shit, where did I leave my flip flops?" She was saying as she went out towards the kitchen.

"Can you stay another day?" she said, coming back into the bedroom.
Before I answered she said, "I could come over tomorrow morning, ya know, after about eight. That would give us some time before I have to be at work."
By now she had gathered up the few things she had been wearing or carrying when she arrived.
"No. I'm heading down the mountain in a few minutes," I said.

She threw a hip to one side and cocked her head. "Do ya hafta?"
"Yeah."
"Well... when will you be back?"
"I dunno," I said.
After a pause I added, "You have my number now. Call me."
"OK. I will. Sorry I gotta go," Candy said.
"Hey, it's no problem. You better hurry up, I don't want you to get into trouble."
She grimaced. I quickly added, "this was fun."
"God it was, wasn't it," Candy said. Then she ran over and kissed my cheek, spun around, and went out the door. I marveled at her bubble butt as she left.

------------
An hour and a half later I was out of the mountains and called my buddy who had loaned me the use of the condo.
"Hey Wil, what's goin' on?" he said.
"I'm on my way back home, just wanted to thank you for lettin' me use the place," I said.
"Everything go OK?"
"Yeah it was great. I got a lot done. Change of scene helped," I said.
We talked a bit about the usual stuff-- work and sports mostly.
Then my friend said, "Hey, did you try out any of the restaurants I gave you?"
I told him I had tried a couple of places but mostly ended up going to the cafe on the main drag. When I said the name of the place he kind of chuckled.
"Yeah, that place is pretty good. Gwen kept telling me to make sure you went there."
Gwen's his young girlfriend. My friend was married, briefly, a long time ago, and Gwen's the first female I've seen him really serious about since then.
"She own a piece of that place or something?" I asked.
"I wish! Nah, I dunno why. Guess she thought you'd like it. She's like that, ya know. As far as I was concerned you could eat at Hardee's."

We talked a bit more, I thanked him again, and then we hung up.

By the time I was home, for the second time that day, I had a feeling I'd been set up.

Your turn

2011-05-05T19:12:00.005-04:00

I was unbuttoning my shirt when Candy started pulling at my belt. I watched her unbuckle the belt, unbutton and unzip my jeans, and then undo the buttons on my black boxer briefs. She quickly pulled my stiffening cock out. For a young girl she exhibited a great deal of technique. I was especially intrigued with the way she would catch the ridge of my dick on her lower teeth and then proceed to roll the underside of her tongue back and forth over the head.

The sensation was unique and pleasurable-- almost friction-free and very slippery. Of course it also made it impossible to push into her throat. So I thought for a bit that she would balk at taking more in. But it was far from her only maneuver. I discovered, in fact, she had quite a talent for cocksucking. She went after my cock with at least as much vigor as I had used to finger-fuck her just moments before.

Yes, Candy went on to show me that she truly loved the feel of a hard cock in her mouth and throat and that she saw the benefit of lots of spit and drool. And what's not to like about that?

After Work Candy

2011-05-04T13:54:00.004-04:00

I was contemplating attempting a first kiss when an odd sensation came over me. Not paranoia exactly, more like trepidation. This was going too easily. Maybe I'd watched too many noir films but it felt like a set-up. The buxom babe distracts me with her charms and her accomplices storm into the house while I have my hands full with, um, Candy.

I set my wine glass down, excused myself, and walked to the door. I set the deadbolt. If it was like those movies, when I turned around Candy would be pointing something deadly at me. You know, a gat, a roscoe, a heater, a convincer, AKA a pistol. I turned and she was still in the kitchen sipping wine. Hell, I don't know where she would have hidden a revolver anyway. The only thing she carried in with her was a small bag that I assumed held ID, car keys, cell phone, and not much else.

"Locking me in?" she said.
"Yeah I was afraid you'd run away."
"After I invited myself over... rrriiiight."
"You didn't really invite yourself, Candy. You demanded that I stay in town long enough for you to stop in."
She made a truly evil smirk.
"So, now that you're here, what is it you wanted?" I said.
"Oh, I don't know. Um, nice weather we're having... have you enjoyed your stay in the mountains? Guess there's lots of stuff we could talk about," she said.

I stepped over to her, put my arms around her, and leaned in for a gentle kiss. After the kiss she put her glass on the counter and we kissed more and with increasing passion. We moved a bit until her bottom was pushed up against the kitchen counter. Our bodies pressed against each other then, my left hand on the small of her back as my right found its way to her left breast. As I brushed across her sundress I could feel her erect nipple through the light cotton. And, as I did, her kisses became more demanding. She had her right hand on my shoulder and moved her left down to feel the bulge in my pants. I didn't let that go on for long-- I sure didn't want to get ahead of her. But I certainly did appreciate that she went for it. It was a pretty good sign she hadn't stopped in to discuss the weather.

She willingly accompanied me to the master bedroom. All but one of the blinds were tilted closed in the room and I went to adjust that remaining one to make sure the room was as dark as it was cool. As I turned back to her she had already kicked off her flip-flops and pulled her dress off. She stood facing me in nothing but her panties. I stopped myself from pointing out how eager she seemed to be. The last thing I wanted to do was make her self-conscious.

When I saw how large yet firm her breasts were I revised my estimate of her age downward. We kissed standing and facing each other. Then I sat her on the bed and helped her out of her panties. She started to rub my cock through my pants and I pushed her hands away. Sitting next to her on the bed and facing the same direction I leaned across in front of her. She, in turn, leaned back with her hands on the bed behind her as I slid the middle finger of my right hand into her closely trimmed but unshaven pussy. With my left hand I pressed down just above her opening. With light but insistent pressure I kept a circular motion going with that hand as I worked in and out of her with my finger. Her wetness looked almost like a slight, white foam clinging to her pussy lips when I pushed two fingers into her young slit while continuing to rub her with the other hand.

Candy moaned and let out a few gasping oh fucks. Then she brought her left leg up and propped her heel on the edge of the bed. She moved her left knee away from me thus spreading herself wide open. I responded by fitting three fingers into her and picked up the pace with both hands. Within a few moments she got extremely vocal before dropping onto her back. I took that as a sign that my hands had done all they could hope accomplish. I was used to it taking a bit longer, frankly, but who can argue with a satisfying result. I thought it was sweet that she had kept an older guy like me from having to work too long.

"Fuck, Mr. Wilson. That was incredible," Candy said finally.
"Was?" I said. "Why the past tense, young lady? You don't think we're done, do you?"

I began to get undressed.

Oh Well, What's Another Day

2011-04-10T16:25:00.005-04:00

On the way back to the condo I made a couple of stops. First at a shop I'd seen in my travels, The Wine Guy, where I picked up a couple of bottles. Then on to Walgreens. I had come up to the mountains unprepared for sexual misadventures so I thought a drug store visit was in order. Imagine how sad I'd be if curvy Candy had been willing... but not without a condom! I straightened things up a little around the condo and wondered when she'd arrive. White wine was in the refrigerator, red was on the counter... I made sure the bathroom was fresh and clean. Suddenly I started to feel like Felix Unger so I stopped and just relaxed. An hour passed with no knock on the condo door. Then two hours went by. I decided to get back to the work I'd brought with me. The afternoon dragged along. Finally it was 5 PM and Candy had not stopped in for a visit. I didn't have her phone number and hadn't given her mine either. Big mistake. I should have put it on the napkin. I think I didn't because the condo address was temporary but my cell number wasn't. Maybe I held back because of that. Stupid. Oh well. I guess I got stood up. I felt pretty dumb getting excited about the whole thing. Kinda felt old, frankly. Hell, I was sure she was at least twenty-five years younger than me. She probably had second thoughts. Couldn't blame her for that. ------------ The next day I skipped lunch and plowed through work. At 7 I went out and got a meal at a different place-- not the one where Candy worked. I watched TV when I got back to the condo that evening. I'm not much for most TV programs but old movies on TCM almost always entertain. I'd rather watch stuff from the 30's and 40's than most of the current stuff in the theaters anyway. I went to bed figuring I'd be done with the work I'd brought along after just a couple of hours in the morning. I went to sleep without jerking off to thoughts of Candy. Which isn't to say that I didn't jerk off, just that I thought of someone else. That should show her for standing me up! ----------- I was ready to blow town by eleven the next morning. It had been a productive few days, despite the no-show from my new young friend. For the hell of it I decided to stop at her cafe for lunch. It was late in the week and the town was starting to fill up with flatlanders for the weekend, plus it was earlier in the day than the other times I'd eaten lunch there, so there was a wait for a table. I opted to sit at the counter instead of sitting alone at a two-top that could be used for a couple. I looked around and didn't see Candy. Guessed she had the day off. I ordered and was drinking a cup of coffee when I sensed someone at my right. I turned and it was Candy. She put her hand on my arm and leaned closer. "Don't leave without talking to me, OK?" she said. I nodded. I dawdled a bit with my meal but there's only so long you can spend eating a club sandwich and chips, even if they refill your coffee eighteen times. Eventually I paid up and gave up my perch at the counter. I waited until I saw that she was up near the door and headed in that direction. She turned as I was a couple yards away. It was still noisy in the restaurant but she got close and whispered, "I'll be over in two hours, OK?" "I'm heading down the mountain." I said. "Don't! Really, I mean it, don't," Candy said in a low, husky whisper. I looked at her. "Two hours," I said. She beamed at me. And in her normal voice said, "That's great, Mr. Wilson!" ------------ An hour and fifty-five minutes later there was a knock at the condo door. I opened it and welcomed Candy into the living room. She had clearly not come straight from work. She was wearing a sundress and flip-flops, not the black pants, white oxford-cloth shirt and black shoes that were the uniform at the cafe. She also didn't smell like the restaurant. The sundress showed off her best assets in spectacular fashion. "Wine?" "Yum." "White or red?" "Is the white cold?" "It's been in the refrigerator for two days," I said. "Hmmm. Yeahhhhh, sorry about that..." "It's not a problem, Candy," I said as I opened the Chardonnay and poured her a glass. "I didn't have your number... sorry... I thought you had left town and hated me. I was so happy to see you at lunch... thanks for letting me come by..." "Candy, it's alright-- don't worry about it." I handed her a glass of wine. We clinked glasses and drank facing each other in the kitchen. As she drank I noticed her nipples were erect, very large, and trying to push right through her cotton sundress. Benjamin Franklin once said that "beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." Given what I've studied about ol' Ben I'm sure he would agree with me that big, firm racks and sweet, round asses are evidence that God thinks we can be even happier than beer (or wine) can make us.

Back Up A Second

2011-04-08T10:10:00.001-04:00

Dinner with Candy went well enough. I tried not to be impatient. It seemed important to her that we spend some time having a meal, talking, getting to know each other some more. I wasn't against that. But, truthfully, I hadn't made the drive to eat dinner and chat. I made the drive and paid for a good hotel suite for another shot at Candy. Well, that sounds crass, and, actually I liked talking to her and eating and drinking together in a nice restaurant-- but still, there was a great hotel suite waiting for us. The first time we got together had gone well despite her initial nervousness and I was certain this time would be even better. Maybe I should explain how we met. I was working on a project for my business and had gotten to a frustrating point. A change of scene away from my home office was needed for me to see everything with fresh eyes. It happened that a friend of mine had a condo in the mountains about three hours from my home. He offered it to me for a week and I took him up on the offer. I figured that four or five days alone in the mountains would be all I'd need to get off the dime and complete my project. The second day I was in the quaint mountain resort town I went to a little cafe on the main drag for lunch. It was after 1 PM and the rush was over so my waitress, a curvy young thing with lots of personality, gave me plenty of attention. Her name was Candy and she only worked there during the lunch rush-- 3 to 4 hours a day depending on traffic. I figured she was at least 25 years younger than me plus she was wearing a wedding band so I didn't think much about her sexually. I mean, I found her attractive enough, but I wasn't thinking, “man I've gotta nail that.” But... she was very flirty. Enough so that I found myself thinking about her that night when I went to bed. It wasn't that she was a knockout or anything. By modern standards she would be considered a little overweight. Her face was cute with a bit of “baby fat”, nice features, and shoulder length dark brown hair. As I was trying to get to sleep I kept thinking about the way she talked and the simple fact that “overweight” to some guys equals lots of round, soft, fun stuff to play with to me. Frankly, lying there in the dark thinking about Candy made my cock hard. I got to lunch the same time the next day. The place was empty as she refilled my glass of sweet tea. “So, what brings you to town? You didn't say,” Candy said. “I needed a change of scene and a buddy of mine let me use his condo for the week,” I said. “Cool. Just hangin' out then.” “Well, I'm doing some work stuff too, so it's not all fun and games.” A sad look flickered briefly across her face. “So, you're busy all day I guess,” Candy said. I kind of shrugged. “I'm not busy tonight,” I said, taking a chance that she might tell me that I'd misunderstood her friendly nature for something else. She looked at me for a second before she said, “I can't get away at night.” I looked her straight in the eye. After a couple of seconds she glanced away. “But I'll be done here in fifteen minutes and don't have anything planned for this afternoon.” I nodded slightly. “I'll go get your check,” Candy said. She came back and left with my credit card. When she came back with the receipt and pen I told her to wait while I signed it. Before I gave the pen back to her I wrote the address of my friend's condo on the napkin. “I'll be there all afternoon, Candy,” I said. “I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Wilson,” Candy said.

Do I remember how to post a picture?

2011-03-24T12:20:00.000-04:00

Yep.

Sunday Night

2011-03-22T14:43:00.004-04:00

Not that long ago I found myself in a nice hotel room on a Sunday afternoon. By not that long ago I mean more recently than most of the encounters I describe here. (So... this fucking century? - ed.) And I didn't just find myself there, I meant to be there. After all I was paying for the room and I had driven a few hours to get there so "found myself" in the hotel is a stupid way to write it.

So scratch that first sentence. I haven't written anything for about six months or so. I'm rusty. Go easy on me, OK?

It was a Sunday. I got that basic thought down pretty clearly up above. A young friend of mine, Candy, was meeting me there and she was overdue. Not so late that I was worried, but a little late. I waited and relaxed by exploring the 100 plus channels. Many guys relax this very same way, by endlessly changing channels over and over and over again. Very therapeutic. Women often act annoyed when we do this in their presence. But we do it for two simple reasons: 1. we can 2. it's a way of shutting up TV people who bore us. Like when on ESPN they stop talking about baseball or football to talk about the NBA...*click*. If you're around we add a third reason: it pisses you off. I kid because I love.

Candy got there and I pulled the cork on the bottle of Cab I had brought. It was a decent wine but not showy. For some reason she had asked me to wear a suit and I might have been the only guy in the county wearing one in the afternoon that Sunday. She had dressed up too and if wearing a suit was the price I had to pay for seeing her like that, well, it was a very small price indeed. Glasses clinked and we tried the wine. Candy doesn't know a lot about wine but she knows that red wine helps her forget that she shouldn't be fucking me. Come to think of it, what more does she need to know about wine than that? I like Cabernet, I don't like sweet wine, so I bought something I liked. Is that too selfish? Not really. If she didn't like it she didn't say. She's such a cute young thing that she thought it was just "amazing" that I brought a bottle of wine. I admit it, I love it when a woman seems grateful. Helpful hint, don't bother faking orgasms. Spend more time faking gratitude. Unless you don't want to get along with men. Which is OK too. My helpful hints are worth exactly what you pay for them.

We just had one glass apiece before leaving for the restaurant. The only physical contact we'd had was when I opened the hotel door for her and we hugged and kissed cheeks. On the drive to the restaurant she started to apologize for being late...

Jerry didn't leave for the airport as early as she had figured he would.... she couldn't start getting ready until he was definitely gone and not popping right back for something he forgot... 'cause then he'd wonder why she was getting all dressed up as soon as he was out the door on a cross country business trip... then she made a wrong turn on the hour drive to the hotel... and had to dig through her bag for the directions... 'cause she didn't want to put it in the GPS 'cause Jerry might find the hotel in there and wonder what the hell she was doing going to a hotel... and she didn't know how to delete anything from the damn GPS... and she wasn't even sure she had put the directions in the right purse... but she had... and if it had been five minutes longer she would have called me... but she was sure she was getting close so she didn't and ...

I almost reached for the remote. But, her jabbering away didn't really bother me. It was kind of nice actually because it meant she was really nervous. I liked knowing that she was all keyed up about the evening ahead. We were going to share a really good dinner. And then we were going back to the hotel and we were going to do unspeakable things to each other for hours and hours. It excited her. And that was good.

"I wasn't worried. I knew you'd make it, or let me know if something had gone wrong. Anyway, it was worth the wait," I said.

"Thanks, Wil," she said.
And that was the last I heard about Jerry that night.

Yes, I Know

2010-10-13T14:53:00.003-04:00

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.

Second Date 2

2010-08-25T13:14:00.000-04:00

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.

Second Date

2010-08-20T15:38:00.002-04:00

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.

Long Drive Home For Nikki

2010-08-11T13:20:00.002-04:00

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.

Later

2010-08-03T14:53:00.004-04:00

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?”
“Yep.”
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.

After Dinner

2010-07-31T15:56:00.005-04:00

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.

Dinner Out

2010-07-24T11:59:00.000-04:00

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.

Nikki In The Chat Room

2010-07-22T14:35:00.003-04:00

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.

Pause: Appreciation

2010-06-16T10:24:00.005-04:00

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.

No Reason To Run Off

2010-06-02T14:19:00.004-04:00

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.
“Yeah.”
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.
“Seriously?”
“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.

You've Been There, I'm Sure

2010-05-18T14:38:00.003-04:00

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.

Pause: Driving Dad

2010-05-01T14:27:00.007-04:00

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...”
“McDonald’s?”
“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.
“No.”

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.”
“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.

A Night of Firsts

2010-04-21T13:29:00.003-04:00

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.

All Night?

2010-04-16T15:13:00.003-04:00

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!"

As Friday Becomes Saturday

2010-04-09T13:15:00.002-04:00

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.

One Friday Night

2010-04-06T14:20:00.002-04:00

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.

“Wilson!”
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.

Hell.

I was.

Sparkle and Shine

2010-03-18T13:06:00.006-04:00

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.

The Model

2010-02-25T14:23:00.003-05:00

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.

Photo Processing

2010-02-18T16:11:00.003-05:00

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.
“Nope.”
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.

Saturday Around Town

2010-02-10T16:46:00.003-05:00

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?”
“Nuthin’.”
“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!”
“Yeah.”
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?”

The Visit

2010-01-28T14:49:00.004-05:00

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

Back To School

2010-01-06T13:42:00.002-05:00

Driving back to school Sunday night after my “Spring Break at Mona’s House” I was pretty confused. Just a few weeks earlier Mona was just a memory linked to Sharon and that failed relationship. Then she calls and I end up spending three nights of my break at her house, two nights of one-on-one intense sex and one night of doubling her with her pal Chet. The whole week had shaken me. When I was seeing Sharon I had a great relationship with Mona. She was flirty, attractive as hell, fun, lots of laughs… but I never spent much time considering what it would be like to go to bed with her. After all, I was with Sharon and they were friends and she was older and more experienced and… and… and…

But, to be blunt, fucking her was extraordinary. I learned something every minute I was with her. Still I had to admit to myself that, as exciting as it was, I didn’t really enjoy the time we spent with Chet. And that was what was bothering me as I drove along. I knew I didn’t want to share her. Or, more precisely, I didn’t want to be the other guy. Mona had done a good job of making me feel like I was the guy but, come on, he was at her place when I got there that night and he was there when I left and there was no way to make out of that anything other than what it was. I was just the stunt guy brought in when the script she was writing called for taking it from two cocks at the same time. Being a stunt man's good honest work, but I wanted to be the leading man. Hell, I wanted to be the director. I learned something very important about myself that week even if it took most of the three hour drive to understand it. There was no way anything would work out with Mona and thinking differently was just delusional. So I was looking forward to seeing Ann next weekend, maybe fool around with Sparkle again from time to time and it would be like the week with Mona never happened. All I had to do was let Mona know I'd be too busy with school stuff for her to come down.

I had been back in my apartment about ten minutes when the phone rang. I hadn’t even unpacked anything yet so I let it ring. It must have rung twenty times before the caller gave up. A half hour later it rang again and I answered. It was Ann. She said she’d been calling for a while. We stayed on the phone about an hour and she told me how her trip to Florida had gone. She asked what I’d done. “The same boring stuff,” I said, “shot some pool with the guys, hung out, nothin’ much.” She sounded quite excited about coming down to visit the next weekend. That was gratifying. My mind was reviewing the fact that Mona had invited herself down for the same weekend but I didn’t think there was any value in bringing that little fact up with Ann.

By the time I got off the phone with Ann I was tired and fell into bed. Before I fell asleep the phone rang again. I got up, stumbled out to the kitchen, and answered the big, black wall phone.
“Hullo…”
“About time you answered. I’ve been callin' all night,” Mona said.
“I got in about an hour ago.”
“Yeah, you’ve been on the phone that long. I kept getting a busy signal.”
“Then I went to bed,” I said.
“So you don’t wanna talk to me? You’d rather go to bed?” she said.
“Mona, you OK?”
“Yeah, I guess, why?”
“You sound, I dunno, kinda worked up, angry or sumpthin'” I said.
“I’m in a bad mood. I wanted to talk to you hours ago and it just kept ringing... and then I kept getting a busy signal the last hour or so. I wanted to talk to you hours ago…”

“Well, I was on the road. I’m here now. Is everything OK?”
All I could hear was the white noise on the phone line.
Then Mona said, “I had a big blow up with Chet before he left.”
My heart thumped. I didn't say anything for a few seconds.
“Really? What about?”
“Ohhhh… a whole buncha shit… he took off early this afternoon and I’ve been calling you ever since. Just wanted to talk. But I’ll let you go back to bed,” she said.
“Mona, it’s OK. I can talk.”
“Oh sweetie. I can’t wait to come down and see you next weekend,” she said.
The moment she said that I knew I’d need to come up with a plausible reason to postpone Ann’s visit.

Holiday fun

2009-12-22T09:41:00.005-05:00

Thanks to those of you who noticed that the last post didn't exactly fit what I've been doing here. I just wanted to try something in a different voice and from a different point of view. It was gratifying that some of my friends noticed and even enjoyed it.

Also gratifying is that more people read this site than ever before. I don't look at the statcounter data very often but I did notice that readership went up (higher than I could imagine possible) in September, October, and November. A couple of the people who found me through Love Boudoir and fleshbot have stuck around. I don't make it easy: I closed comments months ago. I don't post regularly. And, I have a picture of a guy in a suit and tie right at the top of the page which causes about 95% of males who find the place to head elsewhere immediately.

Still, I like to think I offer a good value for your time spent--a clean, well-lighted site where you can think very dirty thoughts with no advertising getting in the way. It helps that Riff Dog periodically drives traffic my way, while readers of The Sexy PTA mom, Eva, The Suburban Hotwife , and many others seem to come this way too. Bless their hearts. Also, I seem to get lots of traffic from people who search google for "cock whipping". Go figure.

Right after Christmas I plan to finish telling you about Mona so I can write about Sparkle and Ann. But, right now, you're too busy. Shopping, decorating, planning and going to parties-- hell, who has time to read? In fact a dear friend sent me pictures from her Christmas party. It looks like she had a great time! Sorry I missed it.

Pause: For Mid-Week Morning Sex

2009-12-08T15:39:00.005-05:00

Dinner was over. The conversation had been good for an ordinary weeknight. The meal tasted better than the short preparation time gave her a right to expect. She was exhausted and tired of being exhausted. The weeks were blurring together. Up at 5:30 to go to work... home at 6 PM… a glass of wine… dinner… and then the attempt to stay awake long enough so he didn’t feel totally neglected. Sometimes she could make it until 10PM before sleep took over. Other days it was all she could do to make it to 8:30. Sex was something that only happened on weekends now. Tonight was one of those nights where she wouldn’t see 9PM. She said good night and went upstairs.

Getting undressed she looked at the full length mirror. He had told her she looked better than she ever had but she wasn’t sure of that. She had lost over ten pounds so far this year. She looked at her flat stomach and trim waist and was pleased. She took off her bra and grimaced. “Why can’t you lose ten pounds without five of it being from your boobs?” she thought. Six months ago her bras were all 36C’s or 34D’s-- depending on brand and fit. If someone wanted to know her size she probably would’ve said 34B because she was the type of person who would think telling someone she had D cup boobies was bragging. She was modest that way. But looking at herself in the mirror she wished she could have 36D’s without gaining any pounds. Or maybe 38D's-- she knew he loved big, full titties. But more than that, she liked the way she looked in sweaters and tee’s when she had more up top. Oh well. The size 36 bras never left the drawer anymore. She wondered if she should buy new ones that fit better, but her frugal nature and the fear that she would soon regain the lost weight kept her from splurging.

Gazing at the mirror she realized that she really liked the way her hair looked now. The little bit of gray was all gone. It had been years since she last colored her hair but she was so glad she had finally done it again. He kept telling her she should. She had resisted but finally went ahead. It had been the right idea. She brushed it and felt good that it was still thick and full. She turned to look at her profile. Still had that bubble ass—way back in high school the black guys told her she had an ass like a sister. She liked the idea better now than she did then. All in all she thought she was doing OK for her age (although she'd never say that to anyone.) Certainly he wasn’t complaining, and she still got a few looks from the men at work.

But she was so damn tired. Always so damn tired. It took until Sunday afternoon to feel rested and then it was time to go back to work. She usually got a good fucking on Saturday night, slept late on Sunday, and went back to work Monday morning pleased with things. But it was a long time between Saturdays. A few years ago it was no big deal to her, what with little kids and all. But now for some reason she needed it more than when she was in her early 30’s. She was really bad at asking for sex-- not even good at hinting at it. She knew that he was aware of how tired she was and waiting until Saturday was probably his way of being nice to her. But, when they were young they went at it twice a day damn near every day. She missed that—when she wasn’t too tired to even think about it.

She put on a clean pair of white cotton panties and a big oversize t-shirt. She didn’t like to sleep in the nude. For some reason she slept better with panties on. Security? Protection? She had no idea why—it was just the way she was. There was no point putting anything sexier on—it was a week night after all. She brushed her teeth, rinsed with Scope, and went into the bedroom. She flipped through the channels on the satellite and finally left it on Discovery Health. She knew she’d be asleep in minutes and the TV was more a night light for him when he came to bed in a couple hours than sleep time entertainment for her. The clock was set for 5:30. She pulled up the plunger on top. Sleep came in seconds.

---------
She woke as his left hand slid over her tummy and inside her panties. She was on her right side facing the nightstand. She felt him spooned up against her. She wondered what time it was, blinked her eyes to see the clock: 4:28. An hour before the alarm, which stunk, but then again she had gotten a full eight hours. She pushed her round ass back into him just a bit, letting him know she was awake and interested. He pulled his hand from her panties, quickly pulled the big t-shirt off of her and threw it across the room like it had offended him. She knew from the way he undressed her that he was going to take her. She wasn’t against the idea—in fact she was warming to it quickly.

He cupped her left breast with his left hand as his right arm went under her neck. He played with her tits for a while. Pinching her nipples. Flicking them with his fingers. Squeezing the entire breast firmly. One, then the other. She slid a hand between her legs as he fondled her. He flexed his right arm so that his hand was now in her hair. Stroking it. Combing through it with his fingers. His breath was just behind her left ear. She could hear the low, deep growl that she’d heard so many times before. It never got old since it signaled his desire for her. She kept her right hand in her panties and reached behind her for his cock with her left. She got it on the first try and grasped at its firm length. He took his left hand away from her breast, grabbed her arm and put it back in front of her.

He rolled onto his back and brought her along so that she was on her back on top of him. He maneuvered her so that her ass was down between his open legs, his hard cock against her spine from the small of her back and pointing towards her head. She got her hands on the bed so she was up off him a little and he took her hair in both hands and smoothed it back. Time after time he ran his hands through her hair drawing it back. Then he pulled it tightly into a ponytail and tied it. She could tell it was tied, but didn’t know what he had used. He didn’t have any clothes on so it wasn’t something from his pocket. He must have gone to bed planning to do this she thought… maybe he put a rubber band from the junk drawer down in the kitchen on his wrist before he came up to bed-- knowing he was going to do this to her. But then her thoughts escaped elsewhere as he put both of his hands back on her tits. As if she didn’t think they'd shrunk enough, here she was flat on her back on top of his chest. God he must think they’ve disappeared. But it felt so good the way he grabbed at them and handled them so roughly.

He pushed her back down between his legs and sat her up on the bed. He was sitting right behind her with his legs spread apart around her, his feet on the bed and knees flexed. He pulled her head back by her brand new ponytail while pressing between her shoulder blades so that she was soon looking straight at the ceiling. Her hair was long enough that he could get a wrap of it around his left hand. With his free right hand he slapped her tits from below, one after the other. He just grazed her each time so his hand caught mostly nipple. Then he took that free hand and brought it to her neck. Her head was back, her eyes closed as he took her neck firmly in his hand. His breath was at her right ear. Neither one of them said a word. She didn’t need her hands for balance and she knew she wasn’t supposed to try to grab for his cock so she slid a hand in her plain white cotton panties and fingered her wet snatch. She was closely trimmed but not shaved bald. Her lips felt so full and warm as she played with her slippery self. He took his hand off her neck, placed his palm against her chin, and fed her three fingers one at a time.

They went at it this way for a while. Her fingers working her pussy-- his fingers probing her mouth. She sucked at them every time he teased her lips and tongue with them. She could feel that hard dick against her back when he whispered into her right ear, “What do you want, baby?”
“Fuck me,” she said in a voice that was more air than sound.

He let go of her ponytail and reached around her to get at her panties. She pulled her hand back out of the way. He got the white cotton front in both fists and pulled in opposite directions. The fabric tore from the waistband to the crotch. He got his hands under her ass and gathered up the torn panties and kept ripping them until the tear went from front to back stopped only by the elastic waistband. Then he moved out from behind her, pushed her back onto the pillows, and got between her legs, the shredded panties offering no barrier to her soaked cunt. He ran the head of his cock south to north in her slit. She gushed. He drove it all the way in and fucked her harder than he had in months.

Hey, Before You Go...

2009-12-04T14:16:00.002-05:00

I walked into Mona’s bathroom and closed the door. I noticed I could no longer hear her and Chet fucking when I turned on the shower. I wondered how much I enjoyed watching someone else having sex with Mona. Not much, maybe. I stood under the hot water and pondered how the hell I’d gotten into this odd situation.

There was no such thing as home video back then. There was no paid cable or satellite TV. To see two people having sex one had to go to a 25 cent peep show/ skin mag shop in a rough part of town or to an “art house” movie theater. I’d never done anything like that. I figure that today, by the time a twenty-something has group sex, assuming the situation raises its head, he’s seen it on his TV, laptop—hell, maybe on his fuckin’ telephone. But in that era? Nope. Suddenly I was a stranger in a strange land of sexual adventure. I believe the first time I ever saw a cock that wasn’t mine go into a girl was that day. Way to go Chet.

If you had come up to me that night and said, “Wil, one day you will write about this evening’s experience at Mona’s little house and people anywhere in the world will be able to read your words while looking at a hand held telephone,” I would have… well, you get the picture. We live in amazing times.

-----
I found a big, thick towel in a drawer in her bathroom, dried off, and knotted it around my waist. I padded out to the kitchen, got a beer, and sat down at the kitchen table. I would’ve been more comfortable in the living room but the towel was damp and I didn’t want to mess up the furniture. I'm a considerate guest in someone's home, after all.

I heard doors opening and closing in the other end of the house and then I heard the shower start again. Moments later Chet walked into the kitchen. Thankfully he had pulled his pants on before leaving the bedroom.
“I told ya, huh…” he said.
“Yep,” I said.
He got a beer and headed out to the living room. I could hear him torching up moments before the smell rolled into the kitchen. I was starting to think it was time for me to head down the road.

“Hey, Willie, c’mon out here, man,” Chet said.
I walked out into the living room with the towel still around my waist. He passed the number to me. I waved him off. He shrugged and took another hit.
“I think I’ll get going,” I said.
“Better hang in for a little longer, man,” he said, “Mo would be pissed if you left without saying bye anyway. Can't piss off the hostess.”
I finished my beer, walked out to the kitchen and tossed the bottle in the trash. Then I walked back to the bedroom, hung the damp towel on the closet doorknob and put on my underwear and pants. I heard the bathroom door open and then the two of them talking, although I couldn’t tell what was being said. Then I heard the bathroom door close again and, faintly, the shower running. Chet must be getting rinsed off. I had started a trend I guess.

Mona walked in wearing the blue robe that barely covered her ass.
“Why are you getting dressed, sweetie?”
“I figured it was about time I got on my way,” I said.
She made her pouty face. “Not yet, please… just stay another 45 minutes or so, OK?”
I sat down in the chair and put my feet up on the ottoman. I had my pants on but was shirtless. I could hear the shower running and assumed Chet couldn’t hear us.
“Is this what you wanted, Mona?”
“Aren’t you having fun?” she said.
“Yeah, it’s fun. I’m not sure it wouldn’t be more fun if it was just the two of us... I just wondered if it was going the way you wanted... not saying I wasn't enjoying myself...”

She moved so she was sitting on the bed near me. She leaned forward and said very quietly, “Invite me down to your place for the weekend.”
The shower stopped.
I looked up at her from the big chair, “When?” I said.
“Next weekend.”
“You’re invited,” I said.

Chet walked into the room as I remembered that Ann was supposed to be coming down to see me the next weekend. Oh well, the logistics could be worked out. Chet hadn’t bothered to put his pants back on. He took all of the pillows off the bed and tossed them on the floor at the foot of the bed. Then he walked over to Mona and put his hand out. She took his hand and he helped her to her feet, led her to the pillows, untied her robe, and took it off her. As he tossed it on the bed Mona went to her knees, holding onto the bedpost as she did. She started stroking his cock. Soon he was hard and she was licking his dick. He waved me over and I positioned myself 180 degrees from where Chet was. I watched her body as I stroked my dick. Looking at Chester’s member wasn’t going to aid erection. When I had a nice stiffy going I put my hand on her shoulder. She pulled off Chet and turned my way. Her flashing eyes locked on mine. She gave me a faint little smile. Then she ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip before sliding my shaft into her warm mouth.

She worked away on both of us. We'd both cum so much already that she had her work cut out for her. She was up to the challenge though. Mona was an insatiable little cockhound.

Double Down

2009-11-21T14:26:00.005-05:00

It was going better than I thought it would.

Mona was on all fours at the end of her bed taking my cock in her mouth while Chet was doing her from behind. A good rhythm was going and I was keeping my eyes on my dick and her pretty face— I was afraid that paying attention to what Chet was doing might keep me from staying hard. It was, after all, the first time I’d been in such a situation and I felt some pressure to not disappoint. It was self-inflicted pressure, but it was real.

Then Chet drove slow and deep into her about a half dozen times, held the last push for a while, and abruptly pulled out and left the room. He had told me the only ground rule was that he got first crack at her pussy. I assumed that we had just moved into the realm of “fair game” so I moved behind her and slid the head of my cock into that hot slit he had just left. With my right hand I worked my cockhead up and down through her thick, dark bush. I didn’t know whether she was soaked from her own juice or if Chet had shot a huge load into her, and I didn’t care. I squeezed her nice round ass with my left hand, gave it a sharp smack, and plowed my full length into her in a stroke.

She had sucked my cock hard while Chet was fucking her but I hadn’t felt a cumload welling up and I knew I could last a while now that I was buried in her snatch. Every so often I would give her ass a good smack as I kept pounding away at her. At this point it was less like a threesome and more like a two man gangbang—it seemed like we were taking turns.
-----

I hammered Mona from behind for a while and she sounded like she was enjoying it. Then I pulled out and flipped her on her back. I got my hands in behind her knees and pushed them back towards her shoulders, spreading her wide open as I did. I moved closer so my dick was touching her pussy lips and she reached between her legs and guided me right back in. She was biting her lower lip but as I slid all the way back in she said, “Yeah… just like that.”

I had her ass at the edge of the bed and was banging into her hard and fast when Chet came back into the room. He got to the edge of the bed where I had been standing originally and stroked his cock as he watched her getting fucked. When he was hard he turned her head to face his meat. He cock slapped her left cheek over and over. She had her mouth open but he wouldn’t feed that dick to her. He kept slapping her face and lips with his stiff cock until he finally grabbed her hair in his left hand and pushed his cock to her mouth with his right.

“Get on that dick, bitch,” he growled and in a couple seconds he was balls deep in her mouth.
The view of that was so hot I blew my load deep in her cunt almost immediately.
After my balls were drained in her I pulled my dripping cock out and took a couple steps back.
“You wanted to get it from two guys at once, didn’t you slut…” Chet said as he grabbed her right leg and spun her around at the corner of the bed like she was on a lazy Susan.
I hadn’t been out of her pussy a minute before he was right back in it.

Mona was screaming and grabbing at the sheets on either side of her. She was on her back, her legs straight in the air and spread apart with her toes pointed to the sky. Chet was slam fucking her like a beast when I went down the hall to the bathroom to get cleaned up a bit.

Yes, the evening was off to a good start.

Charge Forward

2009-11-18T14:39:00.004-05:00

I pulled into Mona’s driveway on Saturday night. There was a fairly new Dodge Charger with Kentucky plates parked there. I had spent a lot of time since Wednesday night wondering if I should bail out on the little party for three. My feet had definitely gotten cold. On Friday Mona called me from work on her lunch break. Luckily my dad was at work and mom was at a neighbor’s house so I could talk. As soon as I heard her voice I felt better about our plans. She asked me not to let Chet know we had been together Sunday and Wednesday nights. In fact she wanted to make sure I didn’t let on I’d ever touched her before. That was no problem—I wasn’t about to bring it up. The effect on me, though, was good. See, up to then I felt like the extra person. Like they were a couple and I was the third wheel. But by having this little secret between us it felt better somehow. I knew something Chet didn’t know. Mona hadn’t gone to college but she would’ve aced Psychology. She definitely knew how to motivate me anyway.

I rang the bell and Mona opened the door. She welcomed me warmly and re-introduced me to Chet. I told him I liked his car. I didn’t tell him it was the sort of thing I would expect a guy like him to drive if he couldn’t afford a Corvette. Hell, I would be happy if my little Italian two-seater didn’t disintegrate into a rust pile while it was parked in her drive-- I sure wasn’t about to take a shot at Chet’s wheels.

Mona made some small talk asking me questions she knew the answers to since we’d seen each other twice already that week. Still, we put on a good show for Chet’s benefit. She was wearing a pair of jeans that she had spray painted on and a rust colored knit top that was just about as tight as the jeans. She looked every bit as good as I expected her to look but she soon excused herself to “get dressed” leaving Chet and me in the living room.

We both watched her leave the room and then Chet looked at me, “Willie, that is one hot piece-a-ass. You have no idea what you’re getting into tonight. This isn’t like some college chick at a frat party.”
“I’m not in a frat,” I said.
“Well, you know what I mean.”
I did. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out after all. I was going to be around him all night, not just Mona, and I didn’t think we would get along. We weren’t even from the same generation.

Chet got us both a beer from the kitchen and we sat in the living room drinking and chatting. He started to seem like an OK guy. We talked about sports, cars, colleges, and then he asked about Sharon. Obviously he had met her when he met me back in August. That conversation was uncomfortable only in that I didn’t want to say anything about Mona and she was pretty well linked to Sharon in my world—at least up until a week ago.

He recalled that Sharon was “cute enough”, but had “a great fuckin’ body.” I figured that the best way to keep from saying anything about Mona was to keep talking about Sharon. So I told him a few things—not as much as I’ve told you, of course, dear reader(s).

“She sounds like a lotta fun, Wilson. Why did you guys break up?”
“She didn’t really enjoy sucking my cock,” I said.
He grinned.
“Seriously? Is that it? I thought Mona said she broke up with you?” he said.
“Well, Chet, I didn’t mean that I broke up with her because she wouldn’t—I meant she broke up with me because I always wanted her to suck my cock,” I said.
He laughed, knowing I was bullshitting him. He was alright, I guess. Kind of like the dirty old uncle I didn't need.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that tonight, buddy.”
I damn near said the wrong thing by affirming my knowledge of Mona’s oral techniques.
“I like the sound of that,” I said.
“Before she gets out here let’s go over a few things. Have you ever done anything like this before?”
I told him I hadn’t.
“Well here’s the deal. She’s been beggin’ for this. Hell, she wanted me to get a couple of my friends over to my place to gangbang her. No way I was gonna let any of my buddies get any! I’m tellin’ you, she’s wild as hell,” he said.

Well now, that’s not the way she tells it, Chet my man, I thought. But who the hell really knows the truth here. Still, my money would be on Mona before Chet Charger.

“Fuck, Wil, there’s tons of pussy all around where I live. You know this chick’s good if I drive all the way up here for it.”
He grinned at me.
“Anyway. As far as I’m concerned there’s only one ground rule. I get her pussy first,” he said.
“That’s it?” I said.
“Yep. That’s it. I’m in first. After that, go for it. But, man, just keep after her. I’ll bet the two of us together can’t wear her out. I’m tellin’ ya, she’s a fuckin’ wildcat,” Chet said.

My blood was up. The idea of double teaming Mona had finally locked in for me. I was ready. Chet went out to the refrigerator and got us each another beer. We had just started to drink when we heard Mona coming down the hall. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her. She was wearing the long black dress I had helped her pick out back in August. Necklace, earrings, heels… she was stunning. I had expected her to come out in lingerie so her appearance really threw me.

She came over and sat between us—slightly closer to Chet.
“Mona, I think you should move over there and get to know Wil a little bit better,” Chet said.
“Good idea,” she said with a dirty grin.
She moved right up against me and we kissed. Soon my right hand began to explore her from her left thigh up to her left breast. I could feel her erect nipple through the shiny black fabric. Our tongues were soon darting into each other’s mouths. I remembered what she had said to me when she wanted me to pick out that dress in the mall in Louisville. I was afraid Chet would think the apparent suddenness of our passion was odd. But he was firing up a joint and not really concerned.

Mona had a couple hits and soon we were all off to her bedroom. Chet sat down in the chair as I took Mona’s dress off her. I took her down to nothing but a tiny black g-string, black high heels, jewelry, and perfume. Chet stood up and pulled his shirt off, unbuckled, and got out of his clothes. As soon as he started down that path I got undressed too. He bent Mona over. She put her hands on the corner of the bed and he slowly put his cock into her pussy from behind. I had been concerned that it would be difficult to have an erection around another guy. But, I just concentrated on Mona and it didn’t seem to be an issue. I stepped closer and she lifted one hand off the bed, stroked my dick a couple times, and then took me into her mouth. My hands went to her black hair and I fed her more cock as Chet began to drive into her from behind.

RSVP

2009-11-11T13:51:00.005-05:00

“Are you talking about a, um, the three of us, um, in bed together, or did I miss something?”
“You didn’t miss anything, sweetie. Yeah, a three-way. You, me and Chet,” Mona said.

Pause.
Long pause.

“Does Chet know about this?”
“Yeah,” she said, thankfully leaving off the “you dummy” part.
“I mean about me, not does he know what a three way is…”
She laughed at me.
“Yeah. I mean he doesn’t know that you would be the other guy for sure but he knows I was thinking about asking you.”
“So, this past week, I’ve been auditioning?”
“No! Not like that... I mean... here’s the thing Wil... Chet knows I have this fantasy of, ya know, havin’ more than one guy at a time. And he thinks it sounds like a lot of fun. But he suggested a couple of his friends and I just don’t want to do that,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I dunno, I guess I don’t like the idea of him and his buddies talkin’ about it over beers some day. Ya know? I wanted it to be somebody I already wanted to fuck anyway,” Mona said, “and he’s met you, and thought it would be OK if that’s what I wanted.”

I kinda felt like my head might explode. I never saw this coming. Hell, I never saw her call to get together over spring break coming either, but this was completely mind-boggling. Now, you might think I’m kidding, but I didn’t really want to do it. Chet was at least ten years older than me—at least. Mona was somewhere in between our two ages—frankly I felt like I would be the third wheel and like a kid at an "adults only" party. No, I was pretty uneasy about the idea at the time. Now, of course, as I look back I want to tell that college kid idiot to wake up.

“I don't know, Mona. I feel pretty weird about it,” I said.
“Why sweetie? We’ve been having fun this week. You’d have fun Saturday night too, I promise.”

That was the problem. I had been having a lot of fun. Mona was teaching me a lot. She was bringing out stuff in me that I was unaware of. It had been great. And now the idea of seeing her with Chet just wasn’t working for me. Plus, I wasn’t sure I could even do anything with her while he was right there. I mean, how self-conscious would I be with this veteran swordsman critiquing my cock-work? But the biggest issue was that it seemed like they were "a couple" and I was a prop being brought in from the outside. My function was to be a dildo, as far as I could tell. I was going to pass on the invitation.

Mona looked at me with a pouty look. She knew I was going to say “no thank you.” She said, very softly, “Wil, I want to feel your hard cock in my mouth while he’s doin’ me from behind. I want you grabbin’ my titties and my hair and pushin’ me down on your stiff dick while Chet’s fuckin’ me. Won’t you do it for me, sweetie? I want it so bad.”

Well, since she put it that way! You know, I really wouldn't have agreed, but she asked me the right way. I couldn’t disappoint her like that. I had to do my level best.

Later, as I was trying to get to sleep back at the house, all of the worries came back. But it was too late to turn back now. Better to think of things more pleasing and drift off to sleep…

Dangling A Proposition

2009-11-04T14:39:00.001-05:00

Now here’s where this little tale takes a very odd twist. It was getting near time for me to leave Mona’s house. We’d been holed up in her bedroom for more than three hours having an energetic workout when I asked her what had happened to cause the falling out between her and Sharon and Sharon’s older sister-- Mona's long time friend. I shouldn’t have gotten into it. It wasn’t as though it was eating away at me. I didn’t really care. It was just conversation towards the end of an extremely intimate evening.

“Well, it involved Chet, and, umm, it was a big mess,” she said.
Chet was the older guy (about 10 years older than me) that Mona had gone on the blind date with when we were all in Louisville back in August. I knew he had stayed in the picture, at least for a while, because Mona had a box of joints on her cocktail table that she said came from Chet.

Once again, I should have just left it alone.

But I told her she couldn’t leave the story at that.

“Chet and I kept seeing each other… but you know how long a drive it is… anyway, he’d come up here and spend the weekend… ya know, once or twice a month. Just having fun… nothing serious,” she said.
The thought of the two of them having fun all weekend in her bedroom didn’t kill me, but it didn’t make me grin either. I didn’t have the illusion that we were doing anything but fucking around—after all, we’d never even gone out for dinner or a movie. We'd never been out together on a date. Still, it was a visual I didn’t need.

“OK. But how does that turn into a big mess with…”
“Back around the holidays I drove down there a couple times. Hung out at his place. It was cool, but I hated driving down there by myself in the winter. Anyway, you remember that he works where she does, right?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Well, somehow she found out from somebody at work that I’d been in Louisville without telling her I was in town… which was probably bad, not telling her, I mean, I can see why she got pissed, but I was going there to see Chet and, well, we decided it would be better to not spend the whole weekend hanging out with other friends.”
“Sure,” I thought, “that would cut into sucking and fucking time.”

I was really wishing I hadn’t brought the topic up for pillow talk.

“I guess some guy he worked with asked him what he had done over the weekend and he told him that I had been down for the weekend, and…”
I could just imagine that conversation…. "Chet, what did you do this weekend? I did this chick from _____ all fucking weekend that's what I did, pal.”

I needed to get my imagination in check or I was never going to have fun with Mona again.

“Well, I guess that guy told somebody else and soon enough it got around to her. She called me, really mad, which pissed me off, and we just got into everything that we hated about each other… and we haven’t talked since.” She got quiet. I felt like shit for bringing it up-- it was making her sad, and it wasn't doing me a world of good either.

“Wow, uh, that’s too bad, Mona. You guys went back a long ways. Sorry that happened. I guess Sharon took her sister’s side,” I said.
“I was already mad at her anyway, the way she fucked you over completely pissed me off,” she said.
I kept quiet. So did Mona. We were up against each other, completely naked, under a top sheet.

After a while Mona broke the silence. “So, you’re going back to school Sunday afternoon?”
“Yeah. I’ll leave in the middle of the afternoon.”
“I want to ask you something and I hope you don’t freak out,” she said.
That’s a preamble you don’t necessarily want to hear. Then again, it doesn’t have to mean something bad is coming next.
“Chet’s coming up this weekend. He’ll get in late Friday night.”
Ooof. That landed like a punch to the gut.

“Ohhh Kayyy… so what’s the question you want to ask?” I figured it was whether that bothered me or not.

Boy, was I wrong.
“Well, I wondered if you wanted to come over Saturday night and, ya know, have a party with us,” Mona said.
I was speechless for a few beats. Then I said, “I don’t do real well at parties at this house. Besides, I don’t know any of your work friends… and Chet will be here…I mean, I dunno,” I said.

She smiled. “No Wil, it would just be the three of us.”
I just stared at her.
She rolled onto me pressing her breasts against my chest. She ran her right hand through my hair.
“C’mon Wilson. Let's have a party. Just the three of us.”
I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I just stared into her eyes which were about five inches from my eyes.

“Don’t you think it would be fun?”

Nothin' Good on TV

2009-10-28T15:59:00.005-04:00

I got to Mona’s house at 6:30 Wednesday and found that her homemade dinner was running late. She had been delayed at work and got home later than planned. It was no big problem, she wasn’t making anything elaborate. I helped out in the kitchen and we were sitting down to eat by 7:30. The wine, a bottle of burgundy, was more to my liking this time. It was nearly eight o’clock when we finished dinner. Mona said we should just leave the dishes and go to the living room with our wine. Sounded good to me. We sat on the couch, drank a little, and soon started kissing. After a few minutes she pulled back and said she wanted to freshen up. It had been hot at work… she had raced home… cooked dinner… she felt like she needed to get cleaned up a bit. Fine with me.

I watched her go towards the hallway bathroom. She was wearing a black skirt, beige sweater, and heels. It struck me that she always looked good. Even on that long drive to Louisville in her Camaro last year she looked good. Part of it was natural, but part of it was attention to detail. I heard the shower go on and figured she might be a while. I turned on the little TV perched on a shelf in the living room. Little House on the Prairie—hmmm, no. Some drama show about a broken family on another channel--- keep lookin’. That’s My Mama on the other station—I don’t think so. Wednesday night wasn’t good for TV I guess. No Sanford & Son… no Odd Couple…no Bob Newhart. Oh well. I shut it off. I looked for something to read but there weren’t any books in the room. Some magazines were on the cocktail table. Vogue had a cover photo of Bianca Jagger. Might be something worth reading. I flipped through it and it was mostly ads. Pretty ads, but nothing to hold my interest for long. An out-of-date TV Guide with a story about a young actor, Michael Douglas, in a show with Karl Malden. I read enough to know he wasn’t the son of Mike Douglas the talk show host—he was Kirk’s boy. Hell, the show wasn’t even on yet.

Finally, about a half hour after she disappeared, Mona came back in the living room. She was wearing the short, blue, satin robe she had worn back in Louisville that Saturday morning. It had given me a hard-on back then and it hadn't lost any of its magical powers in the intervening months. It just barely covered her ass. She came up to me, leaned over, and gave me a kiss.
“Sorry that took so long, sweetie… I feel a thousand times better though,” she said.
“Good. You smell great, that’s for sure… and you look even better,” I said.
“Thanks sweetie. Let’s not stay out here, OK?” she said.

And off we went to her bedroom. Just like Sunday night it was clean and clutter-free. A couple of nightlights plugged in the wall gave it a warm glow. The bed was turned down and looked very inviting. We stood and kissed standing next to the bed. I had her sit on the edge with her bare feet on the carpeted floor. I gathered up all four pillows and piled them behind her back. I slid the robe out from under her so she wasn’t sitting on it, pulled the belt loose, and opened it. She was wearing dark colored lace panties but no bra. I got on the floor in front of her and slid the panties off, tossing them on the bed as she reclined into the pillows. I spread her knees apart with both hands, then I moved closer and put my finger tips on both sides of the center line of her thick, dark bush.

It strikes me that there could be young men reading this who have been engaging in cunnilingus for over a decade and have never confronted anything resembling a natural pussy. Now I don’t want to sound like the old guy who talks about having to walk five miles to and from school, uphill both ways, every day, but eating pussy is a lot better with today’s feminine grooming styles. I’m sure that Mona, and millions of other girls back then, used scissors to make sure they didn’t have stray pubic hairs peeking out from their bikini bottoms in the summer. But there wasn’t much trimming done beyond that. In fact, if I had removed Mona’s lacy undies and found a smooth bald pussy I would have been shocked and probably would’ve asked her what was wrong. Even the landing strip look wasn’t around when I was “dating” Mona. So, when I say I put my fingers in the center of her thick, dark bush I mean I was on a search mission for the treasure I knew was there, but well hidden.

I parted her lips with my fingers and ran my tongue along both sides of her opening. I tongue-teased her from south to north and back again. Over and over again. I could taste her juices and knew she was warming up to my advances. It was the first time I had eaten her and I was taking my good, sweet time. I knew from Sunday night that she liked rough fucking and she could handle a helluva lot of cock pounding, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like to have some oral attention too.

I sucked on her outer lips until they were full, crimson, and swollen. I slid the middle finger of my right hand in, palm up so I could curl it and work it along the front wall inside her warmth. With a finger in her I concentrated my lips and tongue on the north end of her opening. All along Mona had let me know how things were working out with her moans and groans and sighs and gasps. When I got on her hot button with my mouth she pulled her knees back towards her head. With my left hand I pressed her right knee even further back. I pulled my finger out and then went right back in with two fingers, twisting inside of her as I lapped, sucked, and nibbled at her just above where my fingers were buried inside her. She put her right hand on top of my left and put her left hand in my hair—pulling me into her. She was panting, and begging for hard cock, but I wasn’t about to stop eating her.

Then I felt a wave go through her. It was like she had given herself over to something. A shudder, and then her hand let go of my hair and I lightened the tongue and mouth pressure while still working my fingers in and out of her—twisting in her with three fingers as far as I could go now. Then her hips bucked a bit, she pushed at my hand and I pulled my fingers out of her wet cunt.

I pulled myself up onto the bed next to her and flopped on my back. I was hard from it all. She rolled over against me and put her hand on my chest.
“Fuck. I never get off from that. Damn.”
“You liked it?” I said.
“Fuck yeah.”
“Good,” I said.

My erection was starting to go away. I didn’t think that was a good idea. I got up and collected two of the pillows and put one on top of the other a foot or so from the edge of the bed. Then I got Mona off her side and put her face down with the pillows under her tummy. She figured out where it was going and raised up a bit on her knees. I moved her a bit to make sure her pussy was reachable with me standing next to the bed. She put her hands on the bed and raised up a bit. I reached forward and took her right wrist and pulled it behind her back. I did the same with her left. Then I pinned both wrists against the small of her back with one hand while I grabbed her panties off the bed. Using the panties as a short rope I bound her wrists tightly together.
This maneuver had caused me to reacquire my hard-on and I quickly buried that dick into her pussy. In one stroke my balls were up against that thick, natural bush.

I pushed down on her lower back to tilt everything just right and then I flat-out jack-hammered that hot snatch.

Hey! What if...?

2009-10-23T15:05:00.003-04:00

Mona was on her knees in front of me. With her right hand wrapping my cock she had put her left on her bare ass. The view from above was spectacular. She was working magic on my cock and the last thing I wanted was to shoot my first load so early. I pulled her away and fell back into the big overstuffed chair. She immediately popped up onto the ottoman, got on her knees, leaned down and went back to stroking and sucking. I got her hair in both hands and gathered it up until none of it was falling down. I had it all pulled up into a topknot in my left hand. I didn’t push her down onto my dick or pull her off it. I just had it all up out of the way so I could watch her mouth on my hard cock. There is no better sight on earth for a guy than seeing your own stiff rod being worked on by a beautiful woman. Her oral skills were prodigious. She was so good at sucking dick that I, again, worried about an early cumshot.

I didn't want it to stop, but finally I pushed her up and off my cock. I stood up.
“Get on the bed,” I said.
She moved over onto her bed and got on her back with her ass at the edge and her legs open.
“No. Flip over,” I said.
She turned over and started to move across the bed away from me. I grabbed her just above the hips with both hands and jerked her back to the edge of the bed. She put her feet on the floor and stretched her arms across the bed with her head turned to one side so her nose wasn’t against the sheets.

I slipped a few inches of cock into her pussy. She was warm and slippery.
I gave her ass a hard smack with my open right hand. Then the other cheek got it from my left. Her butt was taut and firm. I slid the rest of my dick into her and leaned forward putting my left hand down on the bed. I got her long black hair wrapped around my right hand and pulled her head off the bed. Her hands were grasping at the bedspread as I ground into her from behind. I got into her just as deep as I could get.
“Oh gawd… do me hard you nasty fucker…” came a low growl from deep in Mona’s throat.
I backed it out slowly until just the head of my cock was still inside her soaked cunt. After a pause to take a good look at this beautiful woman I drove it all back in with one solid stroke.

-----
We went at each other for the next few hours including a few breaks to catch our breath. She was absolutely the wildest fuck I'd had up to that point in my life. I chalked it up to her advanced age and experience.

It was nearly time for me to go home and we were reclined next to each other in Mona’s bed, spent.
“You should come over Wednesday night. I’ll make us dinner,” she said.
“OK,” I said, “What time?”
“Make it six-thirty.”
“OK.”
“Wil, this was great tonight. Thanks for coming over. I think we’re a good fit,” Mona said.
I didn’t know what all she meant by that but I agreed that certain parts fit together real well over the past few hours. I assured her that the pleasure had been mine.

On the drive back to my parents' house I was reviewing the events of the evening. The way she looked and smelled... the sweet red wine and her dope stash from Chet... what she said before we went to her bedroom... and the amazing time spent in that bedroom. It was a nicer drive away from Mona’s house than the one back in December. But then a new thought passed through my brain. I had never considered this before, but what if Mona had set up the whole ski trip and party in December to break up Sharon and me? I rolled everything around in my brain as I drove. I tried to remember everything that had happened and everything that had been said. I decided that it was very smug to think she'd do that. But then again, she had just sucked and fucked me within an inch of my young life, so maybe I had a right to flatter myself? Nah. In the end I couldn’t reach any conclusion, but I did realize that it was entirely plausible that nothing back in December had been just exactly as I thought it had been.

I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t angry. In fact, it amused me. One thing I knew for sure, I was having a better spring break than if I had gone to Florida with the crowd. A helluva lot better.

A Darkened Room

2009-10-21T13:36:00.004-04:00

I stepped into the bedroom and leaned back against the door jamb. The bed was turned down. The only lights on were two plug-in nightlights that cast a warm glow in the room. Her scent was evident as soon as you passed through the door. She had prepared for this. I looked around her bedroom and then at her. She had her back to me. Long, straight, black hair, print blouse, light blue miniskirt, white heels, white bracelet. How did I miss that her shimmering white hose were gone? She must have shed them when she took her bra off during her time in the bathroom. I hadn’t missed the bra being gone, but the stockings were a lot more visible and I had completely missed their absence. What else was I missing?

She turned to face me. Her blouse was unbuttoned all the way now. I wasn’t scared, but I was nervous. Plenty nervous. If Mona had said the wrong thing right then I might not have made it. But she did the right thing. Her instincts were perfect-- it wasn't time to challenge me, it was time to make me comfortable. She came to where I was leaning against the door frame and put her hands up on my shoulders. I had left my jacket out in the living room. She moved her hands over my chest and eventually she found her way to my waist. She untucked the Henley shirt and moved her hands back over my skin until she was back at my chest. Then Mona put her head on my chest.
“I think it’s sweet that your heart’s beating so hard,” she said quietly.

I kissed the top of her head. My hands were on her waist. She pulled my shirt up. I helped take it off and tossed it on the floor. She kissed my bare chest. Her tongue played with my nipples as her hands ran across my skin. Then her hands were on my back, holding me close as she kissed my chest... and then my neck... and finally my mouth. We kissed hungrily. I pushed her back slightly and slid her blouse off. Her nipples were hard, dark, and pronounced. I took her left breast in my right hand from underneath, squeezed it up and leaned in. I sucked her nipple, tongued it, flicked it. I opened my mouth wide and took most of her breast into my mouth, the thick of my tongue rubbing on her nipple. I did the same to her other breast. Her head was back, her eyes closed when I snapped a quick slap across her left tit with my right hand. Her eyes popped open. I slapped her firm tit again from the side, slightly from beneath. It was a glancing shot that got all of her big nipple. Next it was the right side with my left hand. She had a smirk on her face as she said, “I knew you were a nasty fucker….”

“Shut up, Mona,” I said.
I put my left hand behind her neck under her hair, gripped her firmly, and walked her over near the only chair in the room—an overstuffed, low, wide chair with a matching ottoman. Still holding her by the back of the neck I undid the button on the back of her tight little skirt, unzipped it, and pushed it down over her hips. It fell to the floor. Not only had she gotten rid of her hose earlier she had taken off her panties too. She stood there, her skirt on the floor surrounding her high heels, with nothing else on but makeup, perfume, a necklace, and some bracelets. I took my time slapping, squeezing and tugging her breasts. I handled her nipples very roughly-- the sounds that escaped her throat told me I was on the right track. I turned her so her back was to me and looked at her bare ass. Mona really was a beauty. I wasn't sure why she wanted to spend any time with me, but she had made it clear what she expected and I sure as hell wasn't going to go limp on her. At least that was my plan. A plan that I was making up on the fly.

I took my hand from the back of her neck and got her firmly by the hair. I had her at arm’s length so I could take in the view. I tilted her head back so she was looking at her bedroom ceiling. With my free hand I gave her a firm crack across the right ass cheek. She gasped. I backhanded the left cheek. Another gasp.
“Turn around,” I said.
She turned to face me and as she did her hair wrapped more tightly around my left fist.
I put my right hand on her shoulder and pushed down. She knew it was time for her to get on her knees.

Tightly Rolled

2009-10-16T15:56:00.004-04:00

I got home for spring break week Friday night. Saturday afternoon I went out to see some buddies. First, however, I stopped at a pay phone and called Mona’s house. There was no answer. I hung out at a friend’s house for a few hours listening to records and getting caught up. On the way back home I stopped at the same pay phone and tried Mona’s house again. This time she was there. She sounded quite happy to hear from me. I asked if perhaps I had imagined or dreamed her call inviting me over… or that maybe she had been really drunk and had a “what have I done?!?” moment the day after she called. She assured me that she had called, wasn’t overly drunk, and definitely had no regrets for inviting me over. She expected me to be at her place the next evening. I told her I’d be right on time.

And, the next evening, there I was ringing her doorbell at exactly the appointed hour. I’m a punctual kind of fellow. Mona opened the door and I was slightly surprised by the way she looked. Her hair was longer, straight, and she had dyed it jet black. She was wearing dark eye makeup and her lips looked sort of frosted. I guess I was used to college girls in jeans, sweaters, and no makeup. She was about four or five years older than me and had been an office worker for about eight years already. I mean, she was a grown-up, not a college kid.

Now remember, this was the mid-70’s and fashions for working women had taken an ill-advised turn to man-made materials and pantsuits with wide flared legs. Mona was wearing a robin’s egg blue jacket with a matching short skirt. It was made of some sort of polyester I guess but the miniskirt made it work for me. Her hose were a sort of shimmering white and they went all the way down to a pair of white high heels. She had a print shirt in some shiny fabric with a huge collar that extended over the jacket lapels. She also had white earrings, and bracelets. I commented on how good she looked—very Springlike. (Oh, me? I was wearing a nice pair of blue jeans, boots, a dark brown Henley shirt and a tweedy sport coat that I had gotten at an estate sale. Classy!)

She had new living room furniture, an “L” shaped sectional sofa deal, and she invited me to have a seat. I watched her walk out to the kitchen and I thought my heart might pop out of my chest it was beating so hard. When she was asking me what I wanted to drink about all I could think of was how the edge of her white bra was visible when she stood a certain way and her shirt, unbuttoned one button too far, stood away a bit. The only other thing I could think of was “don’t stare at her tits you fuckin’ moron.”

Mona brought out two glasses of red wine and sat down to my left around the bend of the “L” and we both tasted the wine. It was way too sweet for my tastes but I wasn’t about to complain. It was what she liked to drink after all. We had a nice conversation-- both of us seemed to be trying to avoid talking about Sharon and her sister. On the way over the thought had crossed my feeble mind that Sharon and her sister were about the only thing Mona and I had in common. That thought had made me consider the notion that I’d be there about twenty minutes before we both figured out that whatever we were doing together wasn’t going to work out very well. But, actually, the conversation never lagged. She was interested in lots of stuff I could talk about and I was interested in her work, her family, how she decided to dye her hair black and so on. What the hell, we were getting along. It was going very well, and so was the wine. I still didn’t like the taste of it but I did like the slight buzz from it. The next thing I knew she had brought the bottle out and poured the last of it into our glasses. We had knocked off that bottle pretty quickly and I reasoned that maybe she was a bit nervous too when we had started out. I think we were both at ease now, however.

Mona opened up a carved wooden box on the square cocktail table in front of us and took out a tightly rolled joint.
“Care to join me?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Nah, I’m alright. But feel free,” I said.
She fired it up, drew in a lungful and held it a long time while I sipped some wine.
“Doesn’t everybody at your college get high?” she asked.
“Pretty much. I’m not against it or anything. Just don’t do it often,” I said.
She smiled and took a second hit.
“I hadn’t smoked in years but Chet gets this really good shit and gives me some,” she said.
"Interesting, I thought, "Chet's still in the picture."

She held it out to me and grinned.
I shrugged, took it from her and tried it.
“Careful sweetie. It’s creeper weed. It sneaks up on you,” she said.
I passed it back, she took a third deep toke, and gave it back to me.
“I’ll be back in just a bit, OK?” she said.
“OK,” I said.
As she went down the hallway I knew she had gone into the bathroom from the sound of her heels suddenly clicking on the tiled floor as she stepped off the carpeted hallway. I put out what was left of the roach and left it on the edge of a heavy glass ashtray, finished my wine, and slouched back on the couch. I had a good feeling about how things were going and my wariness about coming to visit Mona was completely gone.

She came back in the living room after what seemed fifteen minutes. Then again, it might have been five minutes and the creeper had kicked in. As she walked towards me I noticed that she had taken off her jacket. She came up to where I was sitting, right where the sections of the sofa met. I looked up at her and could tell she had re-applied her lipstick, brushed her hair, and her perfume was more noticeable than before.

“Scooch over, sweetie,” she said as she bumped her leg against mine to show me which direction I should be scooching. Sitting low in the sofa I was about eye level with her thighs. (They looked very nice, by the way.) I sat up as I moved over a foot or so and reached up to put my left hand on her waist to guide her down next to me. As she tumbled into the sofa cushion, right up against me, I put my left arm around her shoulders. She turned into me and our lips met without any hesitation. It was gentle. A nice long, soft, first kiss. We broke and looked into each other’s eyes. I hoped she wanted more of that. I moved slightly towards her and she met me more than half way. This time the kiss was probing and hungry.

My right hand went to her shiny smooth blouse and slid up from the belt on her skirt until I felt her left breast. Her nipple felt as big and hard as a cat's-eye marble through the rayon. Our tongues were dancing and darting together, my left hand holding the back of her head as I undid two more buttons and got a handful of her firm, bare breast with my right. When she was in the bathroom she had taken her bra off.

“Now I know what took you so long in the bathroom,” I said, my lips just inches from hers.
“I like the way that feels,” she said.
We started kissing again but were both grinning so much we just bumped our teeth together. Which made us both laugh. But we got back to kissing, and I got back to playing with her bare tits in short order. After a lot of kissing and groping Mona shifted around until she was almost facing me. She pushed me into the back of the sofa and wrapped her arms around my neck. She put her left cheek against mine and said quietly in my ear, “That little bitch used to confide in me, Wil... she told me everything you guys did. I know the first time you fucked her was in this room on the floor in front of the sliding door... she told me about every time you two fucked... I now about her sucking you off in the parking lot when you left her at the dance club. She told me so much about your dick sometimes I think I’ve already sucked it.”

“I’m certain you haven’t,” I said.

“Not yet. But I'm going to. When we were all in Lousiville that first night I heard you two fucking like animals in the next room… it drove me sooo crazy… I wanted this big cock so much that night Wil.” Her left hand had found its way to my jeans and she was rubbing me through the denim. “She always talked about how nice you treated her… and then she fucked you over anyway…"

I didn't really need to hear any more about Sharon. But I sure as hell wanted to bone Mona at this point-- even if she was going to be disappointed since Sharon had exaggerated so much.

"Wil, not every girl wants to be treated too nice all the time.”
“No?” I said.
“No. Some of us like it real fucking rough some times. Some of us like to have our ass spanked. We like a guy who tells us what to do in the bedroom. Some times we need to have our hair pulled and a hard dick rammed in us from behind."
“Yeah?” I said. "I've heard stories about stuff like that. Ya know, it kinda sounds like you're talking about yourself, Mona."

"Can you handle that, Wil?"

"I think I can handle you, Mona," I said.

She stood up and led me down the hall to her bedroom. I wasn't worried. I'd always been a quick study.

I Answered The Phone

2009-10-14T15:59:00.004-04:00

We made the trip to that big college town up north the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Our favorite drinking establishment there was a funky little bar with live music and a nice mix of townies and college students. Given that school was out there were more locals and fewer students this time. The place was set-up with long tables so, unless you were with a group of eight, you sat with people you didn’t know. There were four of us and we were put at a table with four girls. It turned out that they were all friends with one another and two of them actually came from a town about ten minutes from where we lived.

We were all getting along pretty well, having a few drinks and a chuckle or two, when one of my pals decided to tell the girls the story of my experience with Sharon and the Christmas Party at Mona’s. I didn’t find it entirely amusing to have that embarrassing tale told but it was all part of the drill with the guys—we never gave each other a break. All four of the girls, hearing what happened that night, agreed that I had gotten involved with a cunning stunt. One of the four, Ronnie, had my full attention all evening. I was hoping for a good rebound, ya know? Several weeks later I would find out that one of them, Ann, had her full attention on me. But I’ll get to that tale later.

Once I was back at school I dug in for another term of hard study and easy living in my cool apartment way outside of town. One of the electives I was taking was a creative writing class. I figured that it wouldn’t hurt a Radio/TV major to be able to write better. The professor was a great guy who believed that the best way to learn how to write was to actually write, not just talk about it. So we wrote tons of stuff and then we critiqued everything we wrote in class. It turned out there was an absolutely outrageous character in that class, a sophomore girl called Sparkle. Her real name was the same as a famous TV comedienne but everyone knew her by her nickname. Of course, her nickname wasn’t Sparkle, that’s her “Crack The Whip” name, but her real nickname was something similarly flashy. There’s going to be a lot to write about Sparkle soon, and Ann too for that matter. Alas we won’t be writing about Ronnie (that’s her real name, too, not her CTW name) since she found it easier to just reject my advances than to go out with me and dump me later.

-------

But first, let’s close up a loose end… or cauterize a bleeding wound...

Zipping forward a couple months to early March, I was sitting at my kitchen table studying around 10 o’clock on a weeknight when the phone rang. It was Mona. I hadn’t heard her voice since the night I walked out of her house back in December but it was instantly recognizable to me—even if she sounded like she’d been drinking a little. I was wary. Mona had always been nice to me but it was at her house that Sharon had dropped her bomb on me so I had trouble trusting Mona completely.

I asked her outright if she was calling on behalf of Sharon as I wanted nothing to do with her. She said that not only was she not calling me on her behalf but that she had fallen out of favor with Sharon’s sister and no longer talked to either one of them. This certainly piqued my interest. I started to ask her about what had happened but she said she’d rather tell me later—it upset her too much. She got to the reason for her call.

“Wil, are you going to be up this way over spring break?”
“I guess so. I can’t afford to go to Florida or anything,” I said.
“Good. Ummm, do you think we could get together when you’re home?”
And, like a stone effing idiot I actually said, “Why?”

Mona laughed and said, “I just thought it'd be fun to see you again.”
“OK. Sure,” I said.
“When do you get home?” Mona asked.
“Friday night,” I said.
“Cool. Why don’t you come over here Sunday night, say about seven?”
“OK. There won’t be a big party going on, will there?” I said with a laugh.
“No, sweetie, I’ll be here all alone.”

I hung up, got an Old Chicago out of the refrigerator and plopped back onto the chair at the kitchen table.
“Hoooleey Fuucckkk,” I said to my empty apartment.

Pause For Music

2009-10-10T11:25:00.004-04:00

I have thrown out, given away, or sold thousands of vinyl LP's from my collection over the past fifteen years or so. But I still own hundreds of those black slabs-- a few hundred I can't part with that sound so good even with a few pops and clicks.. Of course I also have a bunch of CD's and one of these days, I swear, I just might download some tunes too.

You might say I enjoy music. Through the tales I've related here I mention a few artists I like and a few I don't. But the other day it dawned on me that I've never mentioned the musician whose albums and CD's make up more of my collection than any other. Nope, I've never mentioned this great:

No, not The Lace Panty Girls knucklehead!

Look closer...

That's better.

Although, Miles probably would've liked this fresh, young artist too, come to think of it...

Kind of Blue

Ski Bums

2009-10-08T02:52:00.000-04:00

Mona’s driveway was full of cars and there were many more than usual parked on the street also. As I walked up to her front door the noise from the party was unmistakable. It was 8:30. I wasn’t late according to when Sharon said I should arrive. But it was pretty clear the party was several drinks ahead of me. There wasn’t any reason to ring the bell or knock—I just walked in. The living room was packed with people I’d never seen before. Mona’s co-workers, I imagined. A few looked at me. A few even smiled. I scanned around looking for Sharon, or Mona, or anyone I knew.

From just past the foyer I could see the kitchen. Sharon was sitting on a bar stool at the counter with her back to me. She had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Some guy I didn’t know was facing her, his right forearm on the counter, his big mug about two feet from Sharon’s face. His eyes were locked on her as she talked and laughed. I thought he might drool on her. Standing next to "Biff" was another guy I didn’t know talking to a beautiful girl. I didn’t quite understand the scene in front of me. The noise in the living room kept me from hearing anything coming from the kitchen. The beautiful girl in front of the sink looked at me. It was Mona. Suddenly she realized who she was looking at and a look very near horror flashed across her face. She excused herself and came hurrying towards me. Sharon never turned around on her bar stool.

“Wil! It’s great to see you, sweetie! I didn’t know you were coming,” Mona said.
I looked puzzled I’m sure.
“Sharon invited me. Didn’t she tell you?”
Mona glanced towards the kitchen and said she must have forgotten.
“Here, let me introduce you to some of my work friends… and, uh, I’ll show you where to put your coat,” Mona said.
She led me to the hallway to the bedrooms.
“Who the hell are the guys in the kitchen, Mona?”
“It’s not what it looks like, sweetie. They’re just a couple of guys who we’re going skiing with tomorrow so I invited them to the party,” Mona said.
I could feel the blood coming up in my neck and head.

I must have been turning red.
Mona got between me and the kitchen in her hallway.
“Sweetie, I didn’t know Sharon invited you. She never told me. I don’t know what’s going on with her but please, please don’t blow up here!” she was pressed up to me and whispering—loudly over the crowd noise.
“I work with these people, Wil. I can’t have them talking about the Christmas Party that turned into a brawl,” Mona said.
I nodded and walked out the front door without a glance at the kitchen.
I had left my car on the street about a block away. I was pretty sure Sharon wouldn’t be chasing me down the street to jump in and give me a blowjob like Thanksgiving weekend.
--------

I drove around until about 11PM. I went from furious, to angry, to pissed, to finally something close to humiliation. I pictured Sharon getting up in front of the crowd in the living room and, after quieting them down, saying:

“You may have seen a guy here a few minutes ago. He wasn’t a party crasher. He was just some loser I used to go out with for the past four months. (The assembled party-goers went "ahhhh" in sympathy for the poor girl.) Well, he’s gone now and won’t bother us anymore. Meanwhile I want to introduce you to Biff who is taking me skiing this weekend. And by skiing I mean we’re going to play in the snow for an hour or two and the other 46 hours he’ll be fucking me six ways to Sunday. Thank you for your attention. Party on!”

Fuck. I hated parties as much as I hated skiing.

I stopped at my favorite tavern and pool hall to see if anyone was around. Nobody I knew. I called my buddy John on the pay phone. A half hour later he was sitting there having a beer with me. I told him the whole story—except the imagined monologue from Sharon.

“I don’t know what to make of that Billy boy,” he said.
I nodded.
“Seems like there are nicer ways to dump a guy than to rub his nose in the new boyfriend. Hold it, that didn’t come out right,” he said.
“It’s OK. I got the point,” I said.
“On the bright side, this frees you up to make a run up north with us next week.”
(A “run up north” was a trip to one of the biggest college towns in the country about an hour or so north of us.)
“School’s out. Things will be dead up there,” I said.
“There’s always something going on there, dipshit. Besides, you got sumpthin’ better to do? Hey, why don’t you go back over there and have Biff and his buddy beat you to a pulp. Then we can come see you in the hospital instead of going up north when school’s out, asshole.”

He had a good point.

Ice

2009-10-07T01:50:00.001-04:00

The trip back to school Monday was an adventure. The snow and ice made things treacherous on the highway. The atmosphere inside the car was chilly too since Sharon couldn’t understand why I didn’t just tell Penny that there wasn't room to take her along. We finally made it to Sharon’s campus and had a brief good bye at the front door of her sorority house. Penny, who hadn’t had much to say on the trip so far was chatty the rest of the way.

The two weeks of classes and exams between Thanksgiving weekend and Christmas break flew by. I got one letter from Sharon during that period. That’s the problem with sending someone a letter nearly every day when a romance is young—it’s noticeable when the correspondence falls off. I suppose the same is true about texting, e-mails, IM’s, tweets, Facebook befriending or whatever Facebookers do with each other, and so on. But back then it was either letters or long distance phone calls and I could barely afford stamps let alone telephone calls. In the one letter I did get Sharon was very upbeat and looking forward to getting together over the break. She wanted me to call her when I got back home. No problem, I was looking forward to seeing her too.

The morning after I got back to my parents’ house for Christmas break I gave Sharon a call and we went out to a movie that night. She was excited about a ski trip with Mona “and some other people” that weekend and wanted me to come. I had a family-oriented conflict for the weekend in question. She seemed genuinely disappointed. I was too, but not because I was a big fan of skiing. Snow is best experienced through a window or in a painting. Sliding down a mountain on a pair of waxed slats isn’t a sport I have ever appreciated sufficiently. My preferred orientation is more equatorial than arctic.

The next afternoon Sharon called and asked if I could make it to a party at Mona’s the night before their ski outing. It was a Christmas Party Mona was throwing for her work friends. That sounded like it might be fun. She said to meet her at Mona’s house at 8:30PM Friday—she was going over earlier to help out with party preparations. No problem—my car knew the way to Mona’s house.

Yep, this would be a fun party. Nothing bad has ever happened at an office Christmas Party, right?

November Snow

2009-10-05T13:35:00.002-04:00

As we drove away from the dance club it began to snow. It was a heavy, wet snow and was coming down in giant flakes. I had no idea where to go next-- hell, the blood was just beginning to get back to my cranium. Sharon suggested we go over near her parents’ house. So I drove that way, my little two-seater fishtailing all the way. When we got to the country club community where she lived she gave me directions to a place where we could park out of view from the road. We sat in the car with the lights off and the engine and heater running, watching the snow come down in the ambient light.

My car had bucket seats but no console so Sharon turned her back to me, stretched out as far as she could and leaned back against my chest. We quietly watched the snow for a while until I started nibbling on her right ear. We kissed. We kissed a lot. I fumbled with her pants until I got access to her panties and the contents therein. Hoping my hands weren’t too cold I slid a finger between her lips as my left arm pulled her tightly to me. It felt warm and increasingly wet as I worked my way into her. With my middle finger slipped inside her I rubbed the joint of my thumb across the north end of her pussy and talked very softly in her ear. When she started to get close to the edge she grabbed my left hand in both of her hands and took my fingers in her mouth one at a time, sucking at them as she had sucked my cock an hour earlier in another parking spot.

About a half hour later I dropped her off at her house. I was to pick her up at 1 on Sunday afternoon. I had promised to take her back to college. It was out of my way and would add about 2 or 3 hours to my drive but that was the least of my concerns. No, my problem was figuring out how I was going to get all of her stuff into my little car. It was still snowing as I drove over to my parents’ house.
----------

I woke up at about 9AM Sunday to fourteen inches.
I’ve always wanted to write that sentence and have it be the truth! You’re ahead of me though-- we had gotten fourteen inches of snow overnight. By 11 Sharon called to see if we were still leaving at 1PM. Since I couldn’t even get the car out of the garage due to drifts about 3 to 4 feet tall I thought that was unlikely. Even if I could get out of the garage I couldn’t get through our driveway. The road in front of the house wasn’t plowed and the interstate was closed. Other than that it was smooth sailin’. Sharon seemed to blame me for this—well, at least partially.

As the day wound on the highway patrol was still telling people to stay off the roads. There was no way I was driving anywhere until morning and even then I would have to take the family car. My little Italian rust bucket would never make it. At least that saved the problem of where to put her luggage. I told Sharon I’d pick her up at 8AM Monday and with any luck she'd be on her campus by noon.

-------
Late Sunday night the phone rang. My mother handed it to me and with the mouthpiece covered she mouthed, “It’s a girl.” Mom knew Sharon’s voice so I was pretty sure it wasn’t her. It turned out to be Penny Neal. I didn’t really know Penny. She was three years behind me in high school and I didn’t even know she went to the same college I attended. Her problem was simple. Her dad was supposed to take her back to school Sunday and couldn’t because of the snow. He had to work Monday and she was stranded so she was calling people she knew went to the same school hoping someone might be able to give her a ride. Since I was driving the big family sedan, and since I’m a friendly sort of fellow, I told Penny I’d pick her up at about 8:15 in the morning.
She was ecstatic. I do love making women happy, I confess.

But I wasn’t certain that Sharon would think it was a great idea. Admittedly, sometimes my kindly nature can be a problem. But, dammit, a fellow needs to help other people in need!

Oh, did I mention that Penny Neel had been the Sophomore Princess for our football homecoming my senior year in high school?

I left that part out?

Shame on me.

Sweet Angelina

2009-09-25T17:11:00.003-04:00

Writing about Sharon is very difficult and, I fear, the product isn’t very interesting to the reader(s). It’s difficult for reasons that may become clearer after a couple more entries. Writing about Mona is far easier. But I can’t skip through the story of Sharon, no matter how painful, since without her there is no Mona story—and, trust me, there’s much more Mona to come. Anyway, I’ll get to it again soon but I need a break from Sharon for one quick post about Angelina.

Don’t worry, you’re not forgetful, I've not written about Angelina before. I already needed a quick side trip away from the Sharon story when something happened two days ago that reminded me of Angelina. I spent most of the day this past Wednesday with a strange taste in my mouth. I had eaten an especially juicy pussy at about 5 AM that morning and the taste never left me. Not really a strong *pussy* taste but kind of a quasi-metallic aftertaste. Some of you guys (and a few of you girls, come to think of it) may know what I mean. (Or maybe it's just me.)

Now, I hear you saying, “Uh, Wil, ever heard of mouthwash? Toothpaste?” Yeah, I’m a firm believer in good oral hygiene. But circumstances kinda kept me from addressing that situation until just before dinner time. This is more than you ever wanted to know, isn’t it? Although, maybe a female reading this will ponder briefly the idea of leaving the aftertaste of her pussy in her lover’s mouth for a few hours and smile. I don’t know. Personally, the notion of a young miss going through the day with some of me inconspicuously splattered in her hair is a touching tribute. Especially if she knows it’s there. But, hey, that’s just me-- a hopeless romantic.

-----
This blog is supposed to be about the 70’s, 80’s & 90’s but so far it’s been a lot about the 70’s and 90’s with the 80’s largely missing. Well, Angelina is from the 80’s! I’ll write about her a bit more at some later date, but here’s one quick piece. I was living in one of the largest cities in the Southwest US and in my late 20’s. I was working in a media job and was enjoying the hell out of life—making good money in a city full of beautiful young women. One night I had to go to an industry function at one of the new, glorious, gigantic hotels sprouting up in this boomtown city. I was there with my boss and a couple other guys from work. There was a cocktail party first and then a formal presentation before everybody could take off. Basically, it was face time… carry the company flag… make a showing. Maybe you’ve done this sort of thing. Anyway, I’m talking to some of the other media hustlers, eating cheddar cubes and shrimp, drinking a Tecate, mingling, basically killing time, when I spy this beauty about twenty feet away. Brown skin, jet black hair swept into a highly professional updo, impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit and white blouse, manicured, made-up perfectly, sexy heels, small breasts, but enough ass to get lost in for a month and a day. This lovely Latina with the bubble backside was an instant hard-on for your humble correspondent. I could barely take my eyes off of her but I didn’t want to get caught staring at her either by my co-workers or by her.

I was distracted just before the end of the cocktail period by a work buddy and a fresh beer when I noticed a woman come up to us at my left arm. I turned to find myself face to face with the brown beauty I had seen earlier. She put her hand out to me. I shook it as she said, “So you’re Bill Wilson! One of our mutual accounts warned me about you.” Her deep, dark eyes actually twinkled. I swear they did.

“Don’t believe anything they say about me, Angelina,” I said, reading her name off the white and blue “HELLO I’M_____” tag stuck to her suit. I introduced her to my workmate as they started to call the group to order for the presentation. She said, “Mind if I sit with you guys, I don’t see any of my group here.”
I told her I had paid them all to stay away just for that reason, and we found our seats.

--------
Over the next few weeks Angelina and I got together a half dozen times or so and I’ll write about it all one of these years, but one meet-up I’ll try to tell you about now. We had both arranged our schedules so that we were calling on accounts fairly close to her house late in the AM one day. We were to meet at her bungalow around noon. I got there early and waited in the driveway. She had bought a little house rather than rent an apartment. It was a fixer-upper in a changing neighborhood. Her bet was that it was changing in a way that would bring increased equity. Sitting and waiting for her I figured that bet could go either way. But she had guts and a lot of spirit for taking risk.

She pulled in the drive behind me in her 3 series BMW. I looked in the mirror and watched her exit the car in a cream colored suit with a deep purple satin blouse. Suede heels matched the color of her blouse. Silver earrings and necklace... a black leather briefcase... she looked very professional and sexy at the same time. We went in the house together and she had no inclination for small talk. She told me to sit in the big overstuffed chair, went to the stereo in her living room and put the needle on Patti Austin’s “Havana Candy” album-- she loved soft jazz stuff.

She came back and did a slow strip for me—not allowing me to touch. Soon enough she was out of her suit and blouse but still in her jewelry, bra, garter & stockings, and her purple shoes—the naughty thing hadn’t worn panties. She cocked her head and looked at me as she undid her hair and let it fall down to her shoulders. I pointed at her and motioned for her to turn her back to me. I moved to the edge of my seat and ran my right hand over her brown round ass. She bent over a bit and put her hands on her knees. I gave her taut ass a firm smack. I wasn’t taking a chance—I already knew what she liked. She was a total slut for rough spanking. I gave her another firm smack on the left side. She took about a half dozen firm open hand swats to both cheeks without a whimper. Then a few more before I slid my finger between her legs. She was nice and wet. Hot and slick.

I stood up and led her to the couch. She reclined into the pillows with her right leg on the couch and her left foot on the floor—spread wide open. Hers was one of the first closely trimmed pussies I’d seen in person. Her lips were very full and clearly visible with her black bush trimmed nice and tight. They were so dark brown they almost looked purple. I ran my tongue through the deep furrow between her wet pussy lips. After nibbling away at her for a few minutes Angelina was fuller than any I’ve ever seen to this day. I slid two fingers into her and started to work her cunt hard and fast while tonguing around her clit. When she put her hands in my hair and pulled me into her I started sucking on her clit. Patti Austin had finished side one a long while and I was still eating her out. She was on fire-- her ankles locked behind me-- her hips bucking as she pushed into my face with her soaked cunt. I have no idea how many times she got off but when I was finally worn out after nearly an hour at her house she was glistening everywhere and obviously spent. I really wanted to fuck her until she passed out but I was going to be late for an appointment if I didn’t get going. Angelina threw her clothes on and backed her BMW out so I could go. She waved and ran into her house.

-----

At 6PM I was supposed to be at a watering hole near the office with my boss. He loved going there because the waitresses were all sweet little babydolls and their uniform was white hotpants, bright colored tight tops, and white go-go boots. It was barely the 80’s and this place was still kinda in the 70’s—but in a cool way. In those days I was rockin’ a nice, big, dark moustache. Now some thought it was like Burt Reynolds. I thought the comparison to the brand new TV character, Magnum PI was better. (My “friends” thought I resembled the Frito Bandito. Bastards.) On the way over to the bar I had bought a can of 7 Up when I got gas for my plush ride. When I took the second sip of my drink I smelled Angelina’s pussy as if it was right back in front of me. Fuck. Her pussy juice was in my super cool moustache and the 7 Up had brought the scent back to life. I ran my tongue over it and wiped the Magnum ‘stache before going inside the dark bar. I sat down with my boss and ordered a gin and tonic.

“What happened to you today?” boss said with his usual grin.
“Accounts or pussy?” I said.
“Save the account shit for tomorrow morning.”
“I ate some great pussy for lunch today,” I said.
“You can’t expense that,” he said.
“It was free,” I said.
“You’ll find there’s no such thing,” he said.
I shrugged.
“Now, tell me all about it,” boss said, “Kendra?”
I just smiled.
“You motherfucker. Not Kendra? You motherfucker!”
I took a drink of my gin and tonic.
“Spill it all. Right now.”
My boss was grinning with anticipation but my lips were sealed.

Thanksgiving Dance

2009-09-21T14:24:00.003-04:00

The fall continued with Sharon and me getting together about every other weekend. When we were at my place we had great fun. When I went to her school I felt like the proverbial brown shoes in a room full of tuxedos. Unfortunately she didn’t have a car and coming to see me meant a long bus ride so just to see each other I would usually drive to her place. Once I even drove to her school after class on a Friday, drove all the way back to my place—a round trip of about seven hours—so we could fuck freely all day Saturday before driving back to her school Sunday afternoon.

Perhaps the worst weekend at her campus was homecoming when her parents visited as well. Sleeping in the sorority house with Sharon was out of the question so I drove over really early Saturday morning, went to the football game with her and her folks, and then out to eat afterwards. Her mother didn’t like anything about me. Her father was nice enough but obviously lived in total fear of his wife. Mona had told me that their country club lifestyle was paid for by Sharon’s mother’s family wealth and that her dad was totally pussy whipped. I had doubted some of that thinking Mona was indulging in hyperbole. But watching the dynamics on homecoming weekend was educational and I was sure Mona was on to something with her theory. In any event, Wil was persona non grata around Sharon’s mother. I didn’t like her much either, but I was very polite to her. I made sure to leave before they did on homecoming Saturday lest they think I was going to deflower their daughter as soon as they left town. Didn’t bother me much. I would’ve liked to hang out Saturday night with Sharon as I’m quite sure her flowers would’ve been available for picking, but I went to another big campus in the state where I had a few friends and went out drinking with them all night before weaving my way back to my apartment Sunday afternoon.

Finally Thanksgiving weekend arrived. Both of us were tied up with family on Thursday but we got together Friday morning—Sharon driving over to my parent’s house. My mom and dad liked her and were happy to have her in our little house. We actually studied together that afternoon at the local library as both of us had papers due the following week, ate dinner at my parent’s house, and just watched TV that evening. Sharon wanted us to go out with some of her old high school friends Saturday night. I would have much rather just taken her to Mona’s house and fucked but she really wanted to go out to this hot new dance club with her pals. I wasn’t much for dancing but I didn’t want to be a total pain in the ass. When Sharon told me that I couldn’t wear jeans to this place I was certain I didn’t want to go, but I dug up a pair of black dress pants, a decent shirt, and borrowed a pair of black dress shoes from my father. I actually went out on a hot date to a dance club wearing shoes I borrowed from my dad. The lengths I went to trying to please this girl.

We got to the club around 9PM Saturday and her friends were all there already: three girlfriends and their dates. It was loud in there which was probably a blessing but it meant I was the guy nobody (except Sharon) knew. I felt a bit under the microscope by her girlfriends and their dates seemed a little too comfortable in the disco for my tastes. After a drink or two our group got out on the floor dancing including Sharon and me. After an hour of dancing and more drinks I was pretty much done with the dancing part and wanted to concentrate on the drinking part. Sharon was just getting warmed up with the dancing part, however, and from that difference some unfortunate conflict grew. It took the form of me sitting and drinking while she sat and fumed. Then some guy came over to ask her to dance—our body language wasn’t exactly screaming out THESE TWO ARE A COUPLE. She looked at me. I shrugged. She got up and danced with the slug. And, for the next half hour or so she danced away. I enjoyed watching her move on the dance floor but I didn’t enjoy watching her new dance partner move in on her. I even got the impression that she wasn’t being aggressive enough at defending herself from his untoward advances. Her girlfriends saw her laughing too and would glance at me from time to time.

As Sharon and Sluggo danced on I gathered up my coat and told the girl that was her “best friend” that I was heading out as long as she promised me that Sharon would get home safely. She said she would. I walked out to my car. It was cold as a well digger’s ass outside. I put on my gloves and hoped that the door locks on my little two-seater hadn’t frozen up. No problem. I fired up the engine and turned the defroster on since the windshield was completely frozen. It was a ragtop and leaked air around the windows so even the side glass was frosted up. I sat there waiting for the defroster to take hold rather than get out and scrape—I wasn’t in a big hurry-- hell, I didn’t even know where I was going to go.

There was a tapping at the passenger door glass. I could tell through the frosted glass that it was Sharon and I leaned over and popped the lock. She threw open the door and jumped in.

“Baby! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you wanted to go. I didn’t mean to make you mad!” she said in a rush.

She turned on the seat to face me, slid her knees to the floor in front of her seat, and went straight for the zipper on my black dress pants, pulled it down, got my hardening cock out in the frigid air and wrapped her lips around it, all within about ten seconds of me unlocking the door.

She went at my dick like never before. Stroking it hard, licking the head, getting about half of me down her throat before choking slightly, then licking the shaft and sucking like a demon. I pulled her wool hat off her head to get hold of the mass of hair beween me and the steering wheel as she went at it. A group of guys passed by the car on the way to their car and pounded on the trunk lid yelling and whooping since it was pretty obvious what was up—her butt--- and what was down—her blond head bobbing in my lap.

Sometime that night, after she drained my balls down her throat and licked up every drop she could find and before we drove off into the night, it began to dawn on me that being overly nice to Sharon was not exactly the best policy. She seemed to respond to something else a bit better.

I also remembered my mother and sister telling me when I was in eighth grade that it was a good idea to learn how to dance. They both told me that girls liked guys who would dance with them at high school dances and the like. I had to admit they were right on this point. I had only danced (clumsily I’m sure) for about an hour with Sharon and for that was rewarded with the best blowjob she’d ever performed for me.

Back To School

2009-09-18T18:01:00.003-04:00

We got on the road for home Sunday afternoon at 4. Sharon was awake about fifteen minutes and then slept most of the way home curled up in the back. Mona, who had been at Chet’s apartment all night, lasted about an hour before she asked me to drive. I was tired but always up for driving a muscle car so I locked the Camaro at 70 MPH and we cruised north on the Interstate.

Mona talked for a while before she went to sleep, leaving me with the radio to fiddle with as I tried to keep from dozing off at the wheel. Before she drifted away Mona said she’d had a great time with her blind date and that he was coming up to see her for Labor Day weekend. Well, good for her, and way better for him, I thought.

I got back home from the wild weekend in Louisville at 10PM and fell in bed only to get up at 5 AM and go off to work at the plant. Not too much time left before going back to college for my junior year. Sharon and I got together almost every night between our return from the trip and our departure for school. She left for college three days before me. I was living off campus for the first time having found a one bedroom apartment over an appliance store about a 10 minute drive from campus. It was about twice the size of most student apartments but not more expensive because it was so far out of town. I liked it—although it was very quiet at night after two years of living in the dorms.

By the second week in my new place I was getting a letter almost every day from Sharon. It seems odd now in an age where people don’t write many letters, but phone calls were pretty expensive. Every letter smelled like her perfume and was written in red pen on white stationery—never on a page ripped from a spiral notebook. Maybe today’s college students will have similar memories about their Facebook pages and txt msgs as I have about sheets of clean white paper, covered in red ink that carried the scent of a great summer. I don’t know how she came up with stuff to write about every day. Thankfully, she didn’t complain that I wrote about once for every five or six of her missives. (Black Bic pen on cheap white ruled paper if you must know.)

Three weeks after school started I drove my little two-seater Italian sports car to her campus. It seemed like we hadn’t seen each other in months. When I saw her I felt for a moment like I might be falling in love with Sharon. I definitely felt that she loved me.

---------
It was an eye-opening weekend. I was used to the "summertime Sharon" but at school she apparently didn’t wear bikinis, jeans, and halter tops. In fact, she was dressed up so much on Friday evening when I got to campus that I thought I had missed something in a letter about us going to some fancy place. But it was just her usual garb as a sorority sister. She looked great, by the way, but I felt dramatically underdressed. And there was another problem. I wasn’t supposed to be in the sorority house after 2 AM on the weekend so she was worried to distraction about that. She had asked some frat guy if I could stay at his place if the house mother threw me out. For me it was as if I had traveled to a foreign planet. She was so worried about someone knowing I was there that both Friday and Saturday night we didn’t even fuck. She did however blow me both nights and that was not a favorite activity for Sharon. I knew that and I thought it was pretty sweet that she would do that. Reciprocation was out of the question though. She wouldn’t even let me finger fuck her as she was so afraid she couldn’t be quiet. It was a kind of frustrating weekend but it could have been worse without her oral attention. I didn’t know why she didn’t like to suck cock, she was pretty good at it.

A couple weeks later Sharon took Trailways to see me at good old alma mater. I picked her up at the bus station and we went straight to get something for her to eat. She had been cranky when she got in—riding a bus for four hours can do that—but she started having fun immediately when we hit the bars and she got a burger and a beer in her. My school was about ten times the size of hers and she was knocked out by the whole Friday night scene. We finally got out to my apartment at Midnight.
“God Wil, this place is huge,” she said as we walked in.
She checked out the living room and kitchen. “Is this your furniture?”
“Nah, it’s a furnished place. The landlord runs the store downstairs. He’s a cool old guy,” I said.
She looked in the bathroom (which I made sure was sparkling clean) and put her makeup case on the counter. Then she went in the bedroom.

“Jesus. It’s a Kingsized bed!”
“Queen actually,” I said.
“If I transfer can I live here with you?”
“Sure,” I said knowing her parents would never let her go anywhere but the school where they had met and where her sister had also gone.
“Thanks baby. You’re so good to me,” she said.

We hugged.

We kissed.

And finally it started to feel like things were back to the way they’d been over summer and down in Louisville.

We never left the apartment until Sunday afternoon when she had to catch her bus back. It was thirty-six hours of fucking interrupted only by meals and hygiene breaks and it was amazing.

Pool Party

2009-09-16T12:29:00.003-04:00

We had fun at dinner that night. Mona’s blind date, Chet, was indeed an old guy—must have been almost 35. But she seemed quite taken with him and, in fact, when we got back to the apartment complex after dinner Mona and Chet weren’t to be found. The next we saw her was about noon on Sunday, well before I was nervous about our ride back home that afternoon.

The apartment complex was full of people under 30 years old and there was a pool party going on when we got back from dinner so, of course, we put on swim suits and crashed the party. Sharon’s bikini was navy blue and tiny and it showed off her blond hair and body quite well. We mingled around a bit and talked to the locals. I got separated from Sharon at some point and was in a group talking to her sister and some of her neighbors when I realized Sharon wasn’t around. I spied her about thirty yards away surrounded by three guys. I went over and sat on a chaise lounge and watched her drinking, laughing, and flirting with them. I wasn’t jealous. I actually was proud she was with me—she looked so good. Now if I saw her sneaking off with one or all of those guys I would’ve gotten jealous, but she was just having fun. Anyway it wasn’t long until a local girl sat in the deck chair next to me and we started talking. She was a cute thing and a recent graduate of the University of Tennessee. She might have majored in cheerleading the way she looked. We had been talking together for about five minutes when Sharon walked up.

“Introduce me to your new friend, Wil,” she said.
I did just that. Then she asked something about when we were driving back to ______ the next day. She knew I didn’t know any more about that than she did. She was just establishing that we were together. A fact that didn’t matter too much when she was getting chatted up by three guys a few minutes earlier, but seemed more important to her now that I was talking to Miss Rocky Top. It didn’t bother me. The beauty from the Volunteer State excused herself soon after and repaired to more fertile fields.

“Let’s go up to the room, ok?” Sharon said after the other girl left.
Off we went. Sharon jumped in the pool and swam across to the side nearest the gate as I walked around the pool. She got out, we grabbed our towels off the fence, and went up to the room. As we walked I wondered if talking to three guys, all of whom clearly wanted to jump her frame, had gotten her excited. Maybe seeing me talking to a cute girl made her want to mark her territory. Whatever the reason I had a suspicion I was going to get laid. But, it’s always wrong to make an assumption about such things. Keep expectations low and hope for the best.

When we got up to the bedroom Sharon walked over to the window. It was cold in the room from the air conditioning so I wrapped the towel around her and dried her off. She opened the sliding window and we could hear the voices clearly from the pool. She unhooked her top and dropped it on the floor. Then she slid the wet bikini bottom off her hips and let it fall. You could feel warmer air coming in through the screen. I dried her nude body in front of the window, her back still to me. Then I slid my swim trunks off and dried myself off.

Sharon put her hands on the window sill which was about three feet off the floor and moved her feet back. The she put her bare feet about a yard apart. She didn’t say a word, she just rolled her hips so that her tight little ass was in the air. I ran the head of my cock through the center line of her blond bush. I worked it back and forth until I could feel a slickness-- either from her pussy or my precum. Then I slid it all into her with one slow stroke. She exhaled audibly and lowered her head. I reached around with my left hand and got hold of her full, firm left breast. I put my right hand on her waist. I slid my cock back out until just the tip was between her creamy lips. I held it there, steady, squeezing and tugging at her breast, and then, holding her hip firmly with my right hand I drove into her hard. She gasped. And then I began to hammer that slim little girl deep and fast. She made a lot of noise. They had to have heard it down at the pool. Which, I believe, is exactly what she wanted.

Later that night Sharon woke me up. “I want more, baby,” she said. I didn’t resist. She stroked me until I was good and hard. She climbed on top and lowered her hungry, wet cunt onto my cock. She grabbed her tits, threw her head back, and rode me until she was growling and panting. After she collapsed on me I was still hard and nowhere near shooting my load. So I took her hips in both hands and tossed her off me and onto her back on the bed. I immediately straddled her and put my dick between her tits.

I put both hands on the wall above the headboard.

“Squeeze ‘em up,” I said.
Sharon pushed her breasts together and I went to it until I shot a thick white rope on her neck, chin, and tits.

You Get A Corn Dog!

2009-09-06T22:38:00.000-04:00

I got up Saturday morning, showered and got dressed. Sharon was still asleep when I went out to the little kitchen and dining area of the apartment. I was surprised to find that Mona was already up and making coffee and foraging for food. She was wearing a bright blue satin robe that just about covered her ass. It was tied with a matching satin belt and as far as I could tell she wasn’t wearing anything under it.
“I’m surprised to see you up so early,” she said.
“Guess I’m not used to sleeping with someone else in the bed,” I said.
“She doesn’t snore, does she?”
“Nah. Wiggles around some though.”
She offered me some coffee. I was not yet addicted to the substance and declined.
We sat across from each other at the little table. I was so glad it didn’t have a glass top. If I’d been able to see her legs crossed in that short robe I would have stared, likely drooled, and ultimately embarrassed myself and been sent back home on the first departing Trailways. As it was her cleavage was such an eyeful I made sure to either look right in her eyes while she talked or look out the sliding door onto the patio.

“You guys had a lot of fun last night I guess,” Mona said.
I shrugged.
“It isn’t that big an apartment Wil and the walls aren’t that thick.”
I smiled.
“As if I wasn’t horny enough I had to try to get to sleep listenin’ to you two!” she said.
I blushed.
Mona laughed and shook her head.

“What’s the agenda today anyway?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject.
“Well, we’re going to some mall this morning for a bit… prolly eat lunch there… than we’re supposed to come back here and hang out at the pool all afternoon. We’re going to a nice restaurant tonight, and lucky me, they’ve arranged a blind date for me.”
“Sounds like a fun day. Blind date, huh?”
“Yeah. Some older guy from where she works. He’s like 33 or sumpthin'. We’ll see how that goes,” Mona said.
She got up, walked over to the sliding door and looked out at the pool area. Her view wasn’t half as good as mine.

-------

It was about 11:30 AM at a mall somewhere in or around Louisville, Kentucky. I honestly didn’t really know where the hell we were. I couldn’t have gotten back to the apartment on a dare and I wasn’t used to feeling like I didn’t have some control over where I was and what I was doing. It was just Sharon, her sister, Mona, and me on the mall trip. Somehow her sister’s boyfriend got out of it and I didn’t. I don’t recall getting a vote.

The three of them were in a dress store and I was sitting on a bench in the concourse watching the passing parade. There was, surprisingly, quite a bit to see in a Louisville shopping mall on a Saturday around noon in the mid-70’s. Nothing I saw topped the three women I was traveling with though. Life could be worse than being part of this foursome. But frankly I felt like I was a double A minor leaguer who had been abruptly called up to the majors. I might not belong there, but I was damn sure going to do my best to perform well enough to stick around a while.

Sharon and her sister came out of the shop. They were headed to the food court but I couldn’t come along because Mona wanted me to come in the store and help her decide between two different dresses. I found her in the store standing in front of the mirrors by the change rooms in a long black dress.
“Willie, I need a man’s opinion about these two dresses,” she said.
“It looks kinda formal,” I said.
She stared at me.
“Wil, don’t goof around. Of course it looks formal. It’s a… formal! I just need you to tell me which one of these you like the best. OK. Now, look at this one.”
She turned around slowly in front of me. I took in every inch very carefully because I wanted to do a really good job on this assignment.

“Here, let me stand on my tiptoes this time because I’ll wear this with heels,” she said.
She turned slowly again in front of me and I’ll be damned if her ass didn’t look even better when she was on her toes. Then I sat and waited. Finally she came out in a very similar dress but in more of a teal color.
She did the tippy toe turn again.
“Well? Which one do you like best?” Mona said.
“I dunno. Both of them look really good. Which one do you like best?” I said.

She cocked her head to one side and said, “Wilson, I don’t need you to ask me which one I like. I know what I like! Which one do you like best?”
I stared at her. I pretended like I was thinking about it but really all I was coming up with was a boner. She looked around to see if anyone was near and then held me by the triceps and leaned up to my right ear.

“Which one of the two dresses makes you want to throw me down on the floor and fuck me?”
“The black one,” I said without hesitation.
“Great! Now wait for me to change and we’ll go find those guys—I’ll buy you a corn dog for helping me.”

I am holding a picture here that was taken in the parking lot of the apartment complex where we were staying. Sharon’s sister took the snapshot with a Kodak Instamatic when we got back from the mall. Since it was taken with a camera that is always in focus and therefore never really in focus it isn’t a terribly sharp image. The colors have shifted a bit too. But, it’s Sharon and me with a parking lot behind us and an apartment building beyond that. We're facing the camera and there isn’t a bit of daylight between us. My left arm is behind her and my hand is visible on her left hip. Her right arm is behind me and her hand is visible on my right side just above my belt.

We both have big grins. My hair is dark and just over my ears. I have on blue jeans and a shirt that looks light green but I think it was a green and white check. Sharon’s blond hair is a bit longer than I remembered—past her collarbone has it comes down in front. She has on blue jeans that ride well south of her belly button and a halter top. It’s a light blue halter top that has a wide band along the bottom and, I recall this quite clearly, it tied at the back of her neck.

It’s an odd thing to look at an old picture and know exactly what you were thinking when it was taken. I was thinking that Mona was about the hottest woman I’d ever known personally, that she was an unattainable prick tease, and that I was looking forward to pulling the string on that halter top of Sharon’s, playing with her nice firm titties, and fucking her all night.

It was the mid-70’s, we were two kids, and we were having a great time.

Second Wind

2009-09-03T06:54:00.000-04:00

Sure, I was tired. It was late. But Sharon and I were going to be able to spend an entire night together for the first time. And I had spent about 5 hours or so sitting one bucket seat away from Mona who was, to be blunt, an instant hard-on. Then when we got to the apartment in Louisville it was a mad frenzy of female hormones as the three girls were excited about seeing one another. Other than Sharon’s sister’s boyfriend and me the place was full of agitated babes with firm tits, nice asses, manicured nails, beautiful hair, lipstick, perfume, and a few other things that cause a young man’s mind to drift away to thoughts of, um, er, pussy. So, maybe I could stay awake while Sharon was in the bathroom getting ready to come to bed.

I hadn’t exactly packed anything to sleep in. I mean, I was a guy in the summer between his sophomore and junior year in college. I didn’t own silk pajamas and a smoking jacket-- I usually just took my clothes off and went to bed. Maybe a t-shirt and undershorts in the winter, but it was August so I was naked under the top sheet when Sharon stepped into the bedroom—the only light coming from the bathroom as she left the door slightly ajar.

I was immediately glad she had spent so much time in there. She had freshened up from the drive and put on a baby doll nightie. She came over to the bed, sat next to me and we kissed for the first time all day. She told me she was glad I’d agreed to come along on this weekend trip. I told her that I was glad she asked. And that was about the end of the talk part of the proceedings. She pulled the sheet back as she moved to sit next to me with our backs against the headboard and noticed that she had my full attention.

“Oh! Baby, is this for me?” Sharon said.
She wrapped her left hand around my stiff cock and moved back in for a long kiss.
I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to get any harder. I was equally sure about what Sharon wanted—it was what she always wanted. Soon enough the pillows were knocked to the floor, her head was on the mattress, her hands were gripping the bars of the headboard, her ass was in the air and my cock was sliding into her soaking wet pussy from behind.

Her ass was pale white, smooth as silk, and taut. Both of my hands were firmly on that tight little ass. My instincts were to give her a firm smack as I drove into her. But, I kept my wits about me. I kept to my plan of being more sweet, and kind, and gentle than Jack had been.

Well, up to a point.

There was nothing terribly gentle about the way I was fucking her and with each stroke deep into her the headboard would bump into the wall. Sharon was moaning, gasping, telling me how much she loved my cock. How she wanted it hard and deep and over and over again.

I didn’t feel that tired anymore.

The Grass Is Always Bluer

2009-09-01T13:45:00.005-04:00

We were barely back out on the highway when Sharon fell asleep in the cramped back of Mona’s Camaro. Since I was in the shotgun seat I claimed the right to control the radio and 8-track player. Mona pointed out that it was her car and her music and I’d only be allowed to be in charge of the music if I also talked to her as we roared along the road. Fair enough.

I punched around the dial as stations came and went catching “The Cisco Kid”, “Reelin’ In The Years”, “China Grove” and the like—sometimes in their entirety, sometimes just the last minute or so. I also kept up my end of the conversation with the owner/ operator of the Camaro. Mona was quite an interrogator. But I never felt uncomfortable. I was pretty good at dodging the questions if they got too close. Not that she didn't know I was dodging-- she'd laugh and keep probing around about school, old girlfriends and all that stuff. Besides, she was giving up a few details about Sharon just to keep stringing me along. The miles and hours flew by as “Let It Ride” and “Higher Ground” and more came through the speakers. Every now and then all I could tune in was something like, say, a Carpenters' song and I’d turn it down or look through the 8-track case. There wasn’t much in the tape collection that agreed with me but she did have ZZ’s Rio Grande Mud so I shoved it in. Mona didn’t comment about the choice.

“Is this OK, driver?” I asked.
“Yeah. That belonged to my ex. I’m more into Top 40 stuff, but it’s OK. Just leave it,” Mona said.
“Cool. I like ZZ Top.”
We continued the conversation and I attempted to shift it to finding out more about sleeping beauty in the backseat as the Texas power trio played on. Suddenly Mona said, “Turn that up!”
I cranked it up and she smiled. “God Wil, this song is soooo great to fuck to. It lasts forever with that nice slow beat.”

I was dumbstruck.
“What?” Mona said, looking at me for almost too long before looking back at the road.
“I can’t believe you used that word around me,” I said.
She laughed so loud she snorted and got embarrassed by it.
Sharon’s head popped up between the bucket seats. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Your virgin boyfriend was horrified because I told him this song was great for fucking,” Mona told her.
“So I go to sleep and you two talk about sex?” Sharon said in mock horror.
“I didn’t say a fucking thing,” I protested.

----
Miles and a fast food stop later we made it to Louisville. It was about 10PM when we got to the apartment complex. I met Sharon’s older sister (Mona’s best friend) and her boyfriend. For the first fifteen or twenty minutes it was just him and me sitting out in the living room of the apartment talking about football while the three girls shrieked, giggled, yelped, and generally got caught up with everything-- at least everything they could talk about with us in the next room. I found out that the boyfriend was a recent addition to the scene, barely longer than I’d been dating Sharon, a time measured in days and weeks better than months and years. He was stunned to see Mona. He’d heard a lot about her from Sharon's sister but apparently the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous had never come up.

It turned out that he had an apartment in the same complex. For all I knew I was supposed to go stay at his apartment. But around 1 AM he and Sharon’s sister went over to his place, Sharon and I went off to her sister’s bedroom, and Mona went to the second bedroom—the roommate was out of town for the weekend.

After a full day at work followed by a ride down with the grand inquisitor, Mona, I was exhausted. Sharon, on the other hand, slept a good bit of the drive. She was wide awake. I was going to have to summon up all of my reserves to deal with my little blond fuck fiend this night.

Rusty

2009-08-22T12:18:00.004-04:00

You know you've been away from your smutblog too long when you can't even get the fonts right. Fuck, I did yesterday's post in multiple fonts and I can't even tell how many font sizes. And yet, a lot of friends read it. Thanks. You are a forgiving lot. (You foes who read it, thank you too.)

Now, let's see... was it Georgia... Verdana... Arial...

Hell, I wonder if I even remember how to put up a picture that isn't a steering wheel or an airport concourse?

Yup, like ridin' a b.

----I'm trying to update my blogroll. Some of my favorites of all-time are gone-- you know who you are. Others are behind firewalls and they hid the key from me because I'm a jerk. I can handle that. Really I can.

But I know I'm missing lots of good ones-- feel free to let me know if I need to include yours-- or someone else's I would enjoy.

Now I need to get busy remembering the details of that trip to Louisville...

Gone Jackie and the Bitchin' Camaro

2009-08-21T14:44:00.008-04:00

Before I could even respond to her apparent declaration of love Jackie clarified.
She didn’t mean in love. She just meant she was happy.
Frankly, that was what I had hoped, but since she said it, and since I’m a contrary sort, I had to go in the opposite direction.

“You mean you don’t think we should both get divorces and then marry each other?” I said.
That resulted in a long stare.
Followed by “Nope. And besides, you aren’t serious.”
“What if I am?” I said.
“Cut it out,” Jackie said.

We got ready for our last 24 hours in Chicago. I went off to my meetings and she went shopping for the day.
That evening we had room service and she packed the extra suitcase she had brought along with the clothes she had bought up and down Michigan Avenue. She had to get up at 4AM for her flight back so we spent the evening calmly. Sex, yes. Gymnastics, no.

The next morning Jackie was out the door and headed for O’Hare before 5AM. I stood in the hallway wearing a hotel robe with one foot propping the door open and watched her head to the elevator bank. The bellman had already taken a cart of luggage down to the taxi stand. When she turned at the end of the hall she looked back. We smiled. We waved. And then she was gone.

I haven't seen her since.

We’ve e-mailed. We’ve even talked on the phone, and for the first year or so after Chicago we tried to schedule another get together. But it never seemed to work out. And then, it seems, we stopped trying. We're friends.

When I started on this latest and last arc about Jackie Sampson I was writing about the Summer of Sharon from decades earlier. Since it would be silly to think you would remember that young lady, dear reader(s), allow me a quick review.

Sharon worked with me over the summer at the chemical plant as part of their summer-hire program for college kids. Her dad was the head of HR. A slender blond with a disproportionately large bosom she was coming off a bad breakup with a well-known basketball player from the local college. For most of the summer we didn’t really know each other. Then we worked on the same job and got to be friends.

She actually asked me out the first time we went out on a date. It was a German-American festival and we drank a goodly amount of beer in a short period of time and then went to Mona’s house. Mona was Sharon’s older sister’s best friend. She was a few years older than us, newly divorced, and lived in a nice little 3 BR house. That first time we went over to Mona's she was out for the evening. Sharon had her own key and we hadn’t been in the house very long when we were on the living room floor fucking. And that’s how it was with Sharon. She was into fucking. Nothing else in the area of sex interested her nearly as much as having a cock in her pussy. I didn’t have a big problem with that.

We went out the rest of the summer. I’d pick her up at her parents with the story being that we were going to the movies or something and most of the time we would go straight to Mona’s house and fuck. Mona was like a big sister to Sharon. A big sister that had no problem with her little sister having sex.

It was getting towards the end of the summer. Soon I'd be going back to good old alma mater, a public institution, and Sharon would be going back to a small private school in our state where she was a sorority girl. One Monday at work Sharon said she had talked to her sister over the weekend. It seems as though her sister wanted Sharon and Mona to come visit her in Louisville the following weekend. They wanted me to go along. The plan was to leave after work Friday and drive straight to Louisville. Figuring in stops for gas and food we should get to her sister's apartment by 10PM.

Of course my parents wondered where I was supposed to stay. The story was that I would stay at the apartment of Sharon's sister's boyfriend. Now I'm not saying they bought that-- but they also knew that most of the year I was off at college anyhow so they rolled with it. Besides, dad worked with Sharon's dad and they knew her, and... well, they weren't going to tell me I couldn't go off for a weekend.

So Friday night Sharon, Mona, and I left in Mona's Camaro. We started out with me jammed in the tiny back seat and those two babes in front smoking cigarettes, rolling down the Interstate, with the 8-Track player cranked up. Luckily Mona needed to stop for gas in the first 45 miles. I told Sharon she needed to let me sit up front or I wouldn't be able to walk when we got to Louisville.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I should have thought about that. Sit up front with Mona the rest of the way!"

She always called me "baby." Except that one time she called me Jack. Jack being the basketball player she broke up with. She never spoke very highly of Jack around me. It always struck me that there was an undercurrent of Jack being kinda rough with slim little Sharon. Now being a brainiac I figured that meant I should be nicer to her than I normally would be. Gentler even. That had to be the right way to go. I was enjoying fooling around with Sharon and in no hurry for it to end so, yeah, just be a little sweeter to her. Not like mean Jack had been. That's how I'd play it.

Navigating

2009-07-01T11:12:00.005-04:00

It's been since mid-June when last we met hereabouts. Thankfully, a couple of you noticed and made inquiry regarding my health. I think it's touching when you comely youngsters reach out to me. Quite touching indeed. Especially when your missives include pictures. I am a visual bastard after all.

I'm doing well. But summer means traveling a bit which seems to lead to less posting about my smut-filled past. I'm not gone-- just away. All a guy really needs is good back roads, sunshine, a classic vehicle, and an excellent navigational device.

No, not one of those satellite thingies, silly.

More to come. You won't be rid of me so easily, wenches.

New Intelligence

2009-06-17T12:25:00.004-04:00

Anyone who travels a great deal on business knows the feeling of waking up and not knowing where one is. What hotel is this?

What city am I in?

It happened to me that morning in Chicago. It took a few seconds to remember the city, the hotel, the circumstances. It took very little time to know why I was slightly awake without the alarm sounding though. It was her grip on my cock. Even before I knew there was enough ambient light in the room to sort of see her I could tell by her scent that it was Jackie. A good thing too since that’s who I went to bed with the night before.

“Does this happen every morning?” she asked.
“Does what happen?” I said.
“This. An erection.”
“I dunno.”
“How can you not know?”
“Well, sometimes I have an erection when I wake up and sometimes I don’t.”
“So, it doesn’t always happen,” she said as she slowly stroked the part of me under discussion.

“I don’t know. Like I said before. Maybe sometimes I have one, it goes away, and then I wake up. Other times I wake up and it’s hard. Beats me what happens while I’m asleep.”
She snorted and kept stroking me-- slowly but insistently.
I continued, “Morning wood, ya know.”
“I’ve heard of it. But I thought maybe it was like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster—just a myth.”

There was silence. And the slow stroking of cock.

“It’s nice to wake up this way,” I said, “Plus, it saves me lots of energy.”
“You’re an ass. Hand me the stuff on the nightstand.”

I rolled over halfway and stretched to reach the lube we’d used the night before. She held on. Then, after drizzling my cock with too much of the magic sauce, she started back in on me with two hands. More insistent. More intent.

I reached over and put my hand on her ass.
“Don’t touch,” she said.
“Don’t touch?”
“No. Just let me do this. Relax.”
She used her hands alternately. First sliding her right from head to base then the same thing with the left. Over and over. Soon, I was wide awake and ready to burst. She sensed it, switched to one hand, more grip and double the pace. Her slippery grip was perfect—not so tight as to feel like she was ripping the thing off and not so light as to lose the friction and heat.

Soon I told her to slow down. I was ready to cum.
Now, I’d like to tell you that I shot a load that smacked the ceiling and knocked a hole clean through the roof.
But actually my cum rolled gently down the back of her right hand.
And, I’d like to tell you she licked it all up, showed it to me in her mouth and then swallowed it. But actually she got out of bed, walked into the bathroom of the suite and washed her hands.

I watched her walk naked back to the bed. I don't know if I've ever pointed this out, but Jackie Sampson is a babe. She slid into bed next to me. I found that it was alright to touch her now and we wrapped ourselves around each other.

“Oh Wil, I love you,” Jackie said. It wasn't a dreamy statement. It was matter-of-fact. Like "Oh Wil, the sun's coming up."

I stared at the green numbers on the alarm clock and wondered what the hell I was going to do with that bit of information.

Cheap Sleepwear

2009-06-09T13:30:00.005-04:00

Around 10PM I was able to get away from my group and head back to the hotel.
I swiped the card through the lock and quietly entered my suite. Jackie was sitting in a club chair sound asleep. A magazine was on her lap and the TV was on. I walked over to her and put my hand on her cheek gently. After a few seconds she awoke and looked up at me. She smiled.
“Hi honey, I’m home,” I said with a laugh.
“Good. Sorry I fell asleep. Have you been here a long time?” she said.
“Just got back. I’m glad you got a nap.”
I helped her to her feet and we kissed. She was starting to wake up.
“I’m gonna get ready for bed, OK?” Jackie said.
“Sure,” I said.

I sat down in the chair she had vacated. I turned up the TV and flipped over to ESPN. Fifteen or twenty minutes later Jackie finally came out of the bathroom. I expected new lingerie but got a surprise. She was barefoot and wearing boy’s superhero boxer shorts with a white rib knit tank top. The top appeared to be sized for a young boy-- she was straining the fabric to its limit.
She walked straight to me, put her hands on the back of the chair and put her tits in my face. I smacked her left ass cheek with my right hand. She laughed, stood back up, turned around, put her hands on the chair arms for support, slid her ass onto my lap, and ground into my crotch.
“Fuck, Jackson, what were you doing in the bathroom for so long?”
“Warming up. I missed you.”
“Yeah, it’s been too long.”
I reached around and caught hold of both breasts and squeezed them together. She reacted by rolling her hips and grinding harder into my lap. Much more of that and I was going to cum in my pants instead of in her. I put her on her feet, turned her around and pulled her boxers down. She stepped out of them, put her hands back on the arms of the club chair and bent over.
I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and pulled my cock through the opening in my underwear. I slid into her warm, wet pussy, smacked the ass cheek I hadn’t gotten to yet and began to fuck my longtime, beautiful, blond friend.

After some time we moved to the bed. I got undressed quickly and brought her superhero boxer shorts with me to the king sized bed. I picked Jackie up and tossed her on her back. Following her onto the bed I straddled her torso and put her arms on the bed above her head. Taking her boxers by one leg in one hand and the waistband in the other I used them as a cord and tied her wrists together. She was biting her lower lip as I slid my stiff shaft back into her slick cunt. I took the rib knit top in both hands between her tits and pulled in opposite directions shredding the thin fabric and uncovering her beautiful pair. She inhaled sharply and demanded that I fuck her hard.

So, I did.

After that session we were in bed, cuddled together.
“We need to live closer to each other,” Jackie said.
I grunted my assent.

My Kinda Town

2009-06-02T14:43:00.002-04:00

Before I use my allotted keystrokes for today on The Summer of Sharon I have to tell you about something that happened a few years ago. At the time I was still working in the corporate world and about twice a year I would bring my national sales and marketing management staff together for off-site meetings. I had these in a central location rather than haul everybody out to the West Coast. If it wasn’t the dead of winter I favored Chicago. If it was cold I’d opt for Dallas or Atlanta. These meetings were for just the top level managers and regional VP’s so it was about a dozen to fifteen people attending. The idea was to get everybody in a room for three days without distractions and work through a heavy agenda. If you think it’s a pain attending this sort of meeting you are right. If you think it’s fun running them, you’re wrong.

Jackie and I hadn’t gotten together for about six months or so at this point. I freely admit that I needed more frequent contact with her. She concurred. We’d tried to get together but our schedules weren't working out. We stayed in touch via e-mail every three to four weeks and I had let her know about the meeting scheduled for spring in Chicago. She wanted to know the exact dates and I got a little worried. Usually we’d get together in a city where I would be traveling by myself. In Chicago I would be in a hotel with a dozen or so of my employees. I told her just that. Rather than think it ruled out a meeting she thought it sounded intriguing.
“You’ll be in meetings all day?”
“Yeah. And at least one night a big staff dinner… maybe two nights.”
“That sounds like it will work,” Jackie said.
“It does?” I laughed.
“Sure. You’ll get up and go to your meetings. I’ll sleep in... then go shopping all day and meet you in bed at night. Perfect!” she said.
“Hmmmm, I dunno, Jackie,” I said.
My problem wasn’t with what she said. My problem was with the idea that none of my team would find out about her being there.
“The place will be crawling with people who work for me and… well… I just don’t know how…”
“Ooooo. Even more fun. I’ll be like this big secret that nobody can discover,” she said.
How could I argue with that?

--------
I was sitting at the hotel lobby bar with a few of my people. We had finished the first day of meetings and I was taking everyone out to dinner in a few minutes. I had already listened to a message on my cell from Jackie. Her flight had landed at O’Hare and she was on her way to the hotel on Michigan Avenue. She had heard my message, left while she was flying, to go to the concierge desk where I had left an envelope for her. Inside was the suite number and card key. I had told her that chances were good I’d already be at dinner but should be back before ten. My trustworthy assistant had made sure that my suite was on a different floor than any of the other's rooms.

Soon the whole crew was assembled and we started for the door. The restaurant was just a couple blocks down the street so we didn’t need cabs. As we passed through the door I noticed a blond getting out of a taxi. I looked away, thinking it was Jackie. I wasn’t sure I could carry off eye contact without people figuring out I knew her. My Boston manager, Adam, gave her a long look though as we turned left and went up the street.
“Damn, boss. I liiiiike Chicago,” he said.
“Beautiful city, isn’t it,” I said.
Amy, my Dallas manager pushed Adam in the shoulder from behind.
“Cut it out, Adam. You’re like a dog chasing after a car,” she said.
“Oh, I’d know what to do if I caught her,” Adam shot back.
“I guess I missed who you two are talking about,” I said.
I stopped, turned around and saw her going through the door of the hotel. I was 99% sure it was Jackie.
“Not bad. Kind of mature for a kid like you though Adam, doncha think?”
Amy laughed. "That's his way of telling you she's out of your league, Adam."

Amy was pretty smart.

Who Is Jack?

2009-05-29T12:30:00.004-04:00

I quickly figured out a few things about Sharon after that first date. Let’s see… she was fun and she liked to fuck. Hold it. Those might be the same thing. Over the next few dates, which always, ALWAYS, ended in a spare bedroom at Mona’s house I learned that she liked to kiss—but only as long as it took to get warmed up for something more. She liked to have her breasts fondled, but only long enough to get her heated up for something more. She seemingly enjoyed it when I fingered her pussy but she didn’t go in for a lot of foreplay.

No, Sharon liked to fuck. Everything else was a distraction from what she really wanted which was to have my cock in her pussy. Oral? She had no problem going down on me but she had no interest in reciprocation. I didn’t take offense—it wasn’t like I had eaten her out and she said, "don’t ever do that again, pal." She just directed me away if I started to head that way and she'd say, “Fuck me baby.” Or words to that effect. And, really, she only sucked my dick to make sure I was hard and ready to fuck her. At least that’s the way I see it now. At the time I wasn’t getting all philosophical about it or sitting, chin in hand, and pondering. After all, I had been minding my own business when she asked me out to the German America Festival. After a couple hours of the public portion of that first date we went to her sister’s best friend’s house. And, what a shock, the lady of the house was out for the evening and, hey, what’s this-- now we’re bangin’ away on the living room floor much to the delight of a neighbor woman watching from her kitchen window. Then it’s off to Mona’s Master Bedroom where we’re back at it for round two. Followed shortly thereafter by bout number three. I hadn’t even met Mona yet and I’m fucking away in her bed with Sharon. First date—three fucks-- it was fucking nuts.

Another thing I figured out was that Sharon always called me “baby.” It was “let’s go out baby”, “let’s leave baby”, “baby, let’s go to Mona’s house”, “put it in me baby”, “fuck me hard baby.” Yes, I was “baby”. Which was cool with me until the night I was bangin’ her like a screen door on a hot summer day* and she called me “Jack.” Which didn’t sound even remotely like “baby” or “Wil.” I had to rethink the whole “baby” thing. Did she call me baby because it was endearing or because she was afraid she’d call me by some other guy’s name? Beats me. I didn’t let it slow me down when she said it. I came in her tight little cunt, and then I said, “Who the fuck is Jack, Sharon?”

It turned out I knew Jack. Well, I didn’t really know him, but I knew of him. He was a starting guard for the nearby college (not where I went and not where Sharon went either)and I had seen him play on TV the prior winter. I actually remembered him because I thought he was a cocky sonovabitch on the floor. One of those guys who whines about every foul call that goes the wrong way. A prick. Plus, I didn’t like the school he played ball for-- so fuck him. Apparently Sharon had done just that. Turns out that for most of the last year Jack and Sharon had been going out. And now they weren’t. And she had nothing good to say about Jack. Boy, she had nothing good to say about Jack.

Now I wasn’t falling in love with Sharon—not by any stretch. But, I was falling in love with how much she liked to fuck, so I wasn’t in a big hurry to have this come to an end. Which means I paid attention to what she said she didn’t like about Jack. And that, dear reader(s), is where I screwed up. I listened to what she said and didn’t bother trying to dig a layer or two deeper. But, don't despair, things didn’t get messed up for a quite a while. No, this was The Summer of Sharon just as surely as the prior year had been The Summer of Jackie.

And, did I tell ya?

Sharon had just one thing on her mind.

Pause: Long Weekend

2009-05-22T08:50:00.002-04:00

Sure, it's Memorial Day weekend and that means (to repeat the hackneyed phrase) that it's "the unofficial start of the summer." That's all well and good. Live it up. Grill a wienie or six. Have a beverage or two. Think about why we even have a Memorial Day holiday for a moment. But just remember what the great 70's era philosopher Linc Hayes and his pals said so eloquently:

Got it? Solid.

The True First Date

2009-05-15T14:09:00.004-04:00

The after-work trip to the bar went fine. Everybody had a good time, friendships were made, and backs were talked behind-- in other words, a typical after-work function. I delivered Sharon to her front door as promised. We seemed comfortable in each others company. Was there a spark? At the time I didn’t think there was but I did think she was pretty cool. Honestly, my first impression of her had been that she was a stuck-up, private school, sorority chick and not really somebody I would get along with very well. But, being in the car together a while lead me to think she wasn’t too bad.

The following Wednesday she asked me out. Yes, you read that correctly. I suppose you could claim that my offer to take her to the after-work drinking excursion was a “first date” but I didn’t see it that way. No, Sharon asked me out first. She had passes to a German-American Festival that Friday night and she asked me to go with her. Not a group outing. Just us. That’s a date. I hesitated for one tenth of a second before saying, “Sure.” Didn’t want to seem too eager.

The festival was just an attempt to pull Oktoberfest forward into the hotter months. It was like any of those things— corn dogs, popcorn wagons, soft drinks, and beer. Lotsa “German” beer. And old guys walking around in lederhosen wearing those little hats with a feather drinking beer. And buxom serving wenches dressed like the St. Pauli girl bringing trays of beer. We went straight from work, dined on corn dogs, had some beer, and after a couple of hours we reached a crossroads: we could stop drinking and get bored as hell or we could keep drinking and get shit-faced. We opted for an interesting third way: stop drinking and go somewhere else. I didn’t know where we would go, but it seemed like a good enough idea as the OomPah band music was starting to annoy. What wasn’t annoying me was Sharon. She was fun. We were having fun together. Imagine that. I also didn’t find the fact that she was wearing jeans and a halter top annoying. The jeans were dark blue, the halter top had a light blue background with a yellow flowery design. She had white flip-flops to complete the ensemble. I have a picture here somewhere… hmmm… better not show it for sake of anonymity.

We rolled out of the Rec Center parking lot in my little two seater with the top down. I didn’t know where we were going but Sharon had an idea. Her sister, who was four years older than us had a girlfriend. That girlfriend had a house nearby. We could go there. She laid this out as though it had suddenly dawned on her. I wasn’t sure I needed to go visiting some friend of her sister. I didn’t even know Sharon’s sister let alone her sister’s friend.
“You want to just drop in on her? She doesn’t know we’re coming over, right?” I said.
“It’s not a problem. She shouldn’t even be home,” Sharon said.
My mind took a second to grasp that as she gave me a little grin.
“But if she’s not home... how do we get in the house?”
“I have a key.”
“Where do I turn next?” I asked.

She did have the key and we entered through the front door of the tastefully furnished 3BR/ 1.5 BA—garage attached in a nice middle-class suburban neighborhood. Sharon called out for the lady of the house to no response.
“OK, I’m missing something here,” I said and just gave her a quizzical look.
“Mona is Sandy's... my big sister’s... best friend. They’ve been friends since grade school. Mona got divorced last year-- she kept the house. Married her high school boyfriend—it didn’t work. Sandy moved to Louisville for her job and Mona misses her and I miss her too and Mona treats me like her little sister. I knew she’d be out on a date tonight, Wil. She told me any time I needed to stay here I could. So I thought we’d come here,” she said.
Then she put her hands on my chest, looked up at me, and said with a little pouty face, “But, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
“I didn’t say that. We can hang out here for a while,” I said.
We stood there in the foyer and kissed. For a long time.
When we came up for air Sharon said, “Why don’t you have a seat in the living room. I’ll be right back.” She went down the hall to the bathroom.

I found a seat on the couch and looked around the room. In a few minutes Sharon came back. She had freshened up her makeup and perfume and brushed her hair—the convertible had been unkind to her hairdo. Rather than sit down next to me she just sat across my lap and put her arms around my neck. we went right back to kissing. Soon my right hand moved to her left breast. She felt good through that halter top and the material was thin enough that her nipple was hard and quite evident. The more we kissed the more I fondled her. She didn’t resist in the least bit. Then she pulled away. I thought maybe I’d gone a bit too fast. When she reached behind her neck and untied one knot, then reached behind her back and untied the other knot letting the halter fall away from her I figured I probably hadn't been going too fast. Now we were shifting around on the couch and I was able to get both of her firm beauties in my hands. Tugging and flicking the nipples… squeezing the full breasts… kissing her and then nibbling her tits. Sharon was squirming pretty good and my cock was stiff.
“Wil, come with me,” she said.
I figured we were heading to a bedroom in Mona’s house. My pulse was pounding in my ears. Man, we were flying right along on this first date. But we didn’t go to the bedroom. Instead Sharon took me over by the sliding glass doors that went out to the patio. She got down on the carpet. She kicked off her flip-flops and got on her back. She undid the button on her jeans and unzipped. Then she stuck her feet in the air towards me and said, “Help me,” in a little girl voice.
I grabbed the legs of her jeans and pulled her pants off. She slid her panties off and tossed them to the side.
I couldn’t believe what was happening-- but I wasn’t against it.

I kicked off my shoes, pulled my shirt over my head, and got out of my jeans, socks, and underwear as fast as I could while she ran her right hand through her blond bush. In my careful estimation she looked ready to fuck, so I went straight into her. It seems that was exactly what she wanted. I know because she was very talkative. In fact, in my limited experience with several dozen or so women she was the most talkative I’ve ever known. That's not a complaint-- just an observation. Her favorite word was “baby”. Nearly as popular was some form of “fuck me” or “do me” often with a modifier such as “hard(er)”, “deep(er)”, “faster”… all I can say is, I did my best under the circumstances.

When we were done with our first fuck I noticed that the drapes weren’t closed. We had been fucking like wild rabbits in front of the sliding door, with no shades or drapes and I could clearly see a window at the back of the house one street over. A woman’s head was visible in the window and I could see her smiling. I think it was a kitchen window and the woman was doing dishes. Not many people smile while doing the dishes—unless they’re watching a couple of young people fuck.

I didn’t say anything to Sharon about it and she didn't notice the smiling neighbor woman. If she saw me blushing she probably chalked it up to the vigorous session we'd just finished. I didn’t have time to ponder this because Sharon stood up and said, “Let’s go use Mona’s bed.”

Sure.

Why the hell not?

I barely knew Sharon, we were already voyeur bait for the neighborhood, I didn’t know the name of the street this house was on, and I’d never even met the girl who owned the place. Why wouldn’t I fuck my new girlfriend in that girl’s bed?

No Civics Lesson

2009-05-13T16:27:00.002-04:00

Through the first three or four weeks of the summer I didn’t spend any time around Sharon. I met her the first day when all the summer hires met in the bullpen, she seemed to ignore me, and subsequently I didn’t think much about her one way or the other. The plant was going into a summer maintenance shutdown that required round-the-clock workers. I volunteered to work 2nd shift-- there was more pay—and stayed on that shift all June. When I broke back to the day shift I was more likely to spend my breaks and lunch with Tim or some of the other guys and wasn’t much aware of any of the women that were now working with us. Unless one of them was assigned to work in your crew it was kind of outta sight, outta mind.

That changed one hot July day during afternoon break. When it was break time you went to the closest place there was air conditioning. That could be a plant control room, a pump house, anywhere you could cool off. The day in question I was close to the locker room where there was a large area with seating for nearly a hundred at lunch time. During this break there were only about a dozen people there. I was sitting with a couple of buddies and noticed Sharon and another girl sitting about twenty feet away at another of the big lunch tables. There was nothing blocking my view of her profile. Now everyone wore long-sleeved coveralls, hard hats, and work gloves in the chemical plant for safety. So on this very hot and humid day we were all trying to cool off during the break. Sharon had undone her hair, usually pinned up inside her hard hat, and it fell loose past her shoulders. She had unbuttoned her coveralls to the waist, pulled her arms from the sleeves and then tied the sleeves around her waist. She had a sleeveless white t-shirt on and that was the first time I got a look at some of the body those baggy work clothes had been covering up.

Sharon was a slender girl of about 5’6 and in that t-shirt it was clear—the girl was more than a little bit top heavy. In 2009 someone looking at her would figure those babies were fake, but back then that circumstance was a lot rarer. She was also one of those people who look reasonably attractive in the face but if you study each feature none of them are exactly stunning. For example, her nose was a little crooked—not hockey player crooked—but it had a wee dogleg left. Her eyes were clear and blue but not awe inspiring. Her lips? Kinda thin. Her hair was long, wavy and blond. Don’t get me wrong, she was cute—just not drop dead gorgeous. But you couldn't deny that, given her height and weight, she was stacked. And let’s just say that was workin’ for her in a big way. Beyond that there was no way to tell about her legs and ass since she was in those big baggy coveralls. I know. I know. It sounds pretty shallow of your dear and loyal scribe-- all of this ogling of the physical. But remember, at this point I didn’t really know Sharon, hadn’t even had a conversation with her, and the dropping of the top part of the over-garment was a revelation. Plus, it was really hot and humid. Dammit, we’re talking first impressions here so just give me a break! So I had gotten half an eyeful of Sharon, but it didn't mean much really since I didn't even go over and talk to her. I just went back to work when the break was done. However, I filed away that she was cute and had an attractive figure. Yep, I just checked, that’s what it says here in my first entry in her dossier.

About a week later I was waiting for my dad to pick me up after work. The summer before we always rode in together but now that I had a car I usually drove. I was hourly, and when the whistle blew it was hit the locker room, shower, dress, and head out without having to wait for pops to give me a ride home. But this day I rode in with him for some long-forgotten reason so had to wait for him at the guard shack. As I sat on the sidewalk, my back against a brick wall, I witnessed something that made me actually stop thinking about the nap I was going to take when I got home. It was Sharon, walking alone in my direction. She was coming from the women’s locker room and looked squeaky clean. She was wearing a tight white top and chocolate colored shorts. I don’t remember if this was during the time shorts like that were called short-shorts or if they were currently being called hot pants, but they were short and tight whatever they were called. For the first time I saw that she had great legs and a fine little caboose.
Things were looking up.
Actually I was looking up at her as she walked over to where I was sitting.
“Hey, Bill. It is Bill, right?”
“Everybody calls me Wil,” I said.
“Hi Wil. I’m Sharon Malone,” she said.
“Have a seat, Sharon. I saved you a place right here,” I said, pointing to about twenty feet of empty concrete.
She sat against the wall with her shapely legs out in front of her. She had white flip-flops on. She smelled like shampoo and soap.

We talked while we waited. She seemed pretty bright. She went to a small private school in the state that I had heard of but never visited. She laughed at a lot of what I said. Either she thought I was amusing or she was flattering me. Either way worked for me. A tiny white car was coming and she got to her feet.
“That’s my ride,” Sharon said and I recognized her dad, the head of HR, behind the wheel and gave him a nod.
“See ya tomorrow, Wil.”
“What kinda car is that?”
“A Honda,” she said.
“Like the motorcycles?” I said.
She shrugged. Smiled. Waved. And got into this preposterous little clown car.
A little while later my dad pulled up. I got in and said, “What kinda car is that little white thing that Malone the HR guy drives?”
“Sompthin' Japanese. I dunno who makes it. He says it gets great gas mileage. I think it’s called a City or something like that. Supposed to be for people that live in the city. Sure can't haul much in it,” dad said.
“Where do they live?”
“Hmmm. I think Malone lives over in ____right near ____ Country Club,” he said.
“That ain’t exactly the city, dad.”
“Nope. Guess not.”

------
The following Friday at lunch a bunch of the guys were talking about going out drinking after work. We were trying to let everyone know so we could have a huge crowd at this dive just ten minutes from the plant. I volunteered to let “the girls” know and went over to where they were all sitting together.
“Ladies, we’re all going out to have a few drinks at Captain Nemo’s right after work. I’m sure we can count on all of you rookies to show up, right?” I said.
They were pleased to be asked it seemed. I stayed and talked to the group until the whistle sounded and everybody headed out into the plant. Sharon hung back. She told me she didn’t think she could make it since she was riding home with her father.
I, being gallant to a fault, offered to give her a lift to the aforementioned tavern.
She wondered aloud how she might get home afterwards.
I suggested that I could also provide adequate transportation back to her abode.
“Cool!” she said.
“I’ll pick you up at the guard shack,” I said.

At five minutes before four PM I drove up to the guard shack in my little Italian two seater. The top was down. The radio was on. Sharon jumped in wearing skin tight jeans, a tight white top and sandals. We roared off to the bar. I was quite certain this leggy blond with the nice rack upgraded the value of my $400 roadster just by putting her cute ass on the seat.

Nice Wheels

2009-05-06T13:35:00.004-04:00

As soon as I moved back home after my sophomore year I bought my first car. I purchased a two-seat Italian sports car. Don’t get too excited—it was used and cost $400. Still, $400 was a lot of money to me back then (still is, actually) and the car was pretty cool. Well, at least it looked good, the engine ran well, and it got 40 mpg. That last part was important because gas was over 35 cents per gallon and I was frugal. OK, cheap. What you couldn’t see at first glance was that this crate was rusting away-- a victim of a few Midwest winters and tons and tons of rock salt spread on the roads. Yes, that fine Italian steel was looking more like Swiss cheese in places not easily spied. But I didn’t care about that—it looked fuckin' cool.

Going back to work in the chemical plant was something I looked forward to. It was hot, tough and dirty but it was a good workout after months of college. Made me tan, lean and sinewy… or, maybe just a skinny twerp. If you were there perhaps you’d have an opinion—I was there and I don’t. Spending a lot of time gazing into the mirror isn't nearly as much fun as looking at women. I learned that early on in life I suppose.

It was good to see some old friends from the prior summer including my ol’ bud Tim. Tim and I couldn’t get together after work though since his girlfriend (and future wife) was still best friends with Jackie but we hung out at lunch, and the union-negotiated coffee breaks and were still friends despite the whole girlfriend debacle bullshit. We just avoided the subject of women. Which, as I recall, meant we talked a lot about sports.

There was, however, one big change that summer at the plant. The college student summer hiring program now included-- girls! It seems that company workers who were the parents of female college students wanted their dear daughters to get in on these relatively high-paying summer jobs. Of course not many of the young ladies themselves wanted anything to do with working in a dangerous, dirty chemical plant but apparently a half dozen or so did. Most of the “veterans” were kind of torn on this change. First, we assumed they wouldn’t be required to do any of the jobs that were nasty and dirty or anything that required heavy lifting. But, secondly, a couple of them were babes.

So we figured it just might work out OK.

The two more, ahem, interesting young ladies who joined our hardhat crew were Tina and Sharon. Tina was an olive skinned, Italian beauty of about 5’2” who didn’t take any crap from anybody. She was fun to work with the few times I was assigned to spend a shift with her cleaning out tanks, grading stone, or other fun things. Sharon was a bit more, um, delicate. I figured the only reason she was there was because her dad headed up the HR department for the plant and wanted her to set a good example on the equal opportunity front. She wasn’t particularly well suited to carrying an air wrench around that tipped the scales at half her weight. So, working a shift out in the plant with Sharon was usually like doing double the work. Then again, working with Sharon had some positive features.

Yes. It wasn’t all bad.

Sometime around the second week of August summer got pretty interesting.

The Post-Sophomore Summer Begins

2009-04-28T15:33:00.004-04:00

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.

WABAC

2009-04-27T11:58:00.007-04:00

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-_______"

Just What She Asked For

2009-04-22T17:12:00.006-04:00

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.

Bottleneck Slide

2009-04-16T16:09:00.004-04:00

“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.
“Seriously?”
“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.”

Good Start

2009-04-08T05:41:00.001-04:00

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.
“Seriously?”
“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.
“Yeah.”
“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…”

PAUSE

“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.”