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ANNIVERSARY

December 3rd, 2015

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Henry is forty-nine years old with a sprinkling of silver in his brown hair. He is five feet eleven inches tall and slightly over weight. His lively gray eyes are surrounded by laugh lines which make him appear to be perpetuall1 smiling. Henry is a dentist. He reveals two perfect rows of gleaming white teeth as he talks about the anniversary of his marriage to his wife, Yvette.

It may sound funny, but the idea for this adventure came to me one day about two years ago, while I was drilling a patient’s tooth. If you aren’t a dentist, you can’t possibly imagine how dull and uninteresting it is to spend your whole day filling cavities. You smile and tell the patient that it isn’t going to hurt a bit. Then a quick shot in the gums and it’s drill, drill, drill.

This goes on for eight or ten hours a day, every day of the week. By the end of the afternoon, all I feel like doing is going home and flopping down in front of the TV set. But maybe life is like that. I don’t know. You get older and your practice gets more successful and you find you just don’t have time anymore to stop and smell the roses. Yvette understands and never complains about it, but I’m sure she can’t help feeling a bit neglected. We don’t even have sex as often as we’d like to. And when we do, it’s too much like some obligatory activity that we’ve managed to work into our busy schedules. For me, the best kind of sex is the romantic kind, where ·you build up to it slowly so that it truly feels like an act of love instead of just a mechanical coupling. But we don’t seem to have time for that anymore.

It wasn’t always like this, of course. When Yvette and I met, we were both going to school in New York City. New York is a noisy, dirty, crowded metropolis, unlike anything here on the West Coast. But in spite of the hustle and bustle, you can find romance if you know where to look for it. I remember one summer evening when I surprised Yvette with an al fresco candlelight dinner right there in the heart of the city. I cooked and served her a lavish meal on a table that I set up on the roof of the apartment building I lived in. I borrowed some decent china and a tablecloth to create a feeling of luxury. Yvette acted like we were in the best restaurant in town.

Afterward, in my apartment, we made beautiful love. I’m not just talking about sex. I’m talking about making love. That sense of romance is what makes all the difference. We used to fill our lives with romance back then. Sometimes, when it was raining, we’d drive to the beach and just sit in the car holding hands and enjoying the stormy ocean waves. We might kiss · and pet a little to warm ourselves up for the night of passion that was sure to follow.

It’s a good thing romance doesn’t cost much, because I didn’t have any money to speak of in those days. That never stopped us from having a good time, though. I remember once when we spent an entire Saturday afternoon sitting together in a bathtub full of bubble bath and drinking champagne. It was cheap stuff, but we knew how to make the best of things. I think we must have made love four times that afternoon, our bodies slipping and sliding in all that soapy water. Well, about a year ago, there I was working on a patient when I started daydreaming about the way Yvette and I would set aside a whole day or night for romance and making love. I found myself wishing things could be like that again. I realized that our wedding anniversary was a few weeks away, and decided to do something to recapture those old feelings. We usually celebrate our anniversary by going out to dinner and maybe the theater. But this time, I made up my mind that the theme for our celebration would be romantic lovemaking.

I remembered an ad I had recently seen in one of those slick magazines devoted to the affluent lifestyle. The ad was for a resort that described its accommodations as “luxury honeymoon cottages.” I thumbed through all the magazines in my waiting room until I found the one I was looking for and called to inquire. The reservations clerk told me that each of their cottages faced the ocean and was laid out in a way that took best advantage of the ocean view. They all came with redwood hot tubs, platform beds, and patios. The atmosphere sounded exactly like what I had in mind. The rates were exorbitant, almost a thousand dollars a day, but Lord knows I can afford it now.

That night I asked Yvette how she would feel about celebrating our anniversary by devoting the night to sheer sexual ecstasy. I told her about my yearning for our old sense of romance and my hope that we would find it in the honeymoon cottage. It seemed to be just the kind of thing we would have done when we first met, if we weren’t always so broke ·back then. Yvette jumped at the idea and said that she too longed for the kind of lovemaking that used to come so easily to us when we were younger. The next morning I called to book the cottage.

As the day approached, Yvette and I became even more enthusiastic about the idea. I shopped around for a beautiful diamond necklace to give her as a gift: The night before we were to leave, I went to the best department store in town and also bought her a luxurious negligee. It was white satin, trimmed with delicate white lace, and reminded me of her wedding gown. The memory of Yvette as a bride increased my feeling of romance. On the day of our anniversary, I had a local florist fill the back of my car with flowers. There must have been hundreds of them. I wanted the fragrance to surround us completely as we drove to our romantic rendezvous. When Yvette got into the car and saw them, she gasped with delighted surprise, her blue eyes gleaming.

We took a leisurely drive, meandering our way up the coast. To our left, the ocean was a brilliant cobalt blue. To the right were rolling hills of bright forest green. It all contrasted dramatically with Yvette’s long golden hair. Everything was perfect. All I could think of was the hours we would soon be spending in each other’s arms making passionate love. It was late afternoon when we arrived at the cottages. A uniformed valet assisted Yvette out of the car. While we checked in, he drove the car to our cottage and brought the flowers into the room. Another valet transported us to the cottage in a horse … drawn buggy with seats of soft brown leather.

The cottage itself was nothing short of magnificent. It was completely surrounded by trees, creating the feeling of total privacy. The valet opened the intricately carved mahogany door and conducted us inside. The room was beautiful. It was made for lovers. The first thing we noticed was the view. The wall facing the ocean was glass from floor to ceiling, with nothing to obstruct our vision. The blue water seemed to begin at our feet and to stretch endlessly, until it faded into the misty horizon. Sea birds flew lazily by, their hoarse calls in harmony with the ocean’s musical roar.

Our suitcases had been unpacked for us, and the flowers arranged in vases throughout the luxurious room. The art deco furnishings were sparse, accentuating the importance of the huge platform bed that occupied the center of the room. Recessed into the floor next tp the glass wall, a redwood hot tub was already filled, the warm water steaming and bubbling, inviting lovers to partake of its sensuous delights. As the valet left, he handed me a menu and said, “You may call to order dinner, sir, whenever you are ready.” As soon as we were alone, I took Yvette in my arms and embraced her. I was already aroused by the thought of what lay ahead, and the warmth of her tall slender body increased the effect. I was beginning to feel a stir in my trousers. When Yvette pressed her lips to my ear and whispered, “It’s lovely,” I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the room or to my obvious erection. “I’m so glad .YOU brought me here.”

“I wanted it to be special,” I whispered. “And I have something very special for the occasion.” I handed her a gilt .. wrapped package that contained the negligee I had purchased. “Ooh, Henry, I love it,” she said as she removed the lacy garment from the box. “I can’t wait to wear it.” “Why wait, then?” I asked. “Why don’t you put it on now? I’d love to see you in it.” A few minutes later when she emerged from the dressing room wearing the opulent lingerie, I sighed lovingly. “You look beautiful,” I murmured. “Seeing you in that gown brings back our wedding night. It was years ago today, but it seems like just last week. And I’m just as excited about possessing you tonight as I was then.” “Oh, Henry,” she replied. “You make me feel young and vibrant. We’re going to make wonderful love tonight. Nothing could make it better.”

“Well,” I said slowly. “Maybe something could.” As I spoke, I stepped behind her, slipping the diamond necklace from my pocket. I guided her to the mirror so that she could watch as I put it on her. When the jewels were sparkling at her throat, she turned and kissed me again, this time with a burning passion that drove the tip of her tongue to flick lightly over my lips as a promise of things to come. By the time our sumptuous dinner arrived, the sun was beginning to set over the Pacific. Three waiters came to our room and prepared a table by the window, setting it with fine bone china. and Waterford crystal. Before leaving, they placed the food on our plates and lit candles in highly polished silver holders. We gazed at the sea as we dined on chateaubriand and sipped a rare vintage cabernet.

As the waiters reappeared, we ‘heard the strains of soft music. On the beach outside our window, a trio was playing a serenade for lovers. Yvette reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’re wonderful, Henry,” she murmured. I felt myself stirring to erection again. We watched the waiters prepare our crepe suzettes with movements that seemed choreographed to the music playing outside. Yvette’s face shone in the illumination of the flaming dessert, the dancing shadows playing over the curves of her body in the satin negligee. I couldn’t wait for the waiters to leave. I wanted to hold her in my· arms. When they were gone, I rose from my chair to stand behind her, stroking her hair and shoulders as she fed herself and me with alternate bites of the crepes. My excitement was rising. From the deepened rhythm of her breathing, I could tell that she too was becoming aroused. I slipped the fingers of both hands into the bodice of her negligee, tracing the curves of her rounded breasts. I heard her sigh.

Standing, she turned to face me and melted into my arms. Instinctively, our hips began grinding, pressing our pelvises together as we embraced. Her skin was soft and smooth, crying out for my caressing touch. “Thank you for being my wife,” I murmured, moving my hands slowly over her body to find the softness of her buttocks and her breasts. I felt like a horny young kid again. Without breaking lip contact, I eased the straps of Yvette’s negligee off her shoulders. She wriggled sensuously until the garment slid down her body to form a satin and lace puddle on the floor around her ankles. Moonlight streaming in through the window highlighted the swelling curves of her bosom. In the dim illumination, I could see the rosy disks of her nipples contracting to stand erect at the ends of breasts that were still remarkably firm and youthful. I fell to my knees and pressed my face against them. I licked her turgid blossoms, closing my lips over each of them to suck lightly. I could feel my manhood swelling within the confinement of my clothing. I wanted to be naked, as she was. Quickly, I rose to my feet and undressed. Then, taking my wife by the hand, I led her to the hot tub and assisted her into the steaming water. The tub was chest deep, and her breasts floated on the surface of the water, her nipples pointing erotically toward me.

The waiters had opened a bottle of champagne and left it in an ice bucket with two delicate crystal flutes by the side of the tub. Reaching for the bottle, I poured champagne into the flutes, handing one to Yvette. “To more blissful years,” I said, touching our glasses together and sipping with her. “You look more beautiful than ever,” I added, feeling the heated water bubbling around and between our naked bodies. This time when we kissed, she pressed herself against me. I felt the points of her nipples burning into my bare chest like smoldering embers and her hand searching between us for my hardness. We stood that way for a long while, kissing and stroking each other in the enveloping comfort of the heated water.

Her hand glided lovingly over the throbbing rigidity of my manhood. The combination of her touch. and the bubbles bursting against my naked skin lifted me to a state of pulsating excitement. I stroked her belly, moving my hand purposefully lower until my fingers encountered the wet fur of her pubis. Below the dense and curling triangle, her opening was moist. I slipped a finger inside, thrilled to find even more moisture within.

Taking advantage of the buoyancy, she gracefully lifted her body and wrapped her legs around my hips. My erection stood up to search for her feminine opening,· relishing the heated liquid that swirled and bubbled around it. I placed my hands on her waist, guiding her slowly downward until she was poised just above the tip of my throbbing member. With a sigh, she lowered herself onto me, burying my hardness in her tunnel by tantalizing degrees until I was deep inside the warmth of her womanhood. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, she ascended my staff, riding so high that for a moment I feared that the penetration would end. Then, reaching the pinnacle, she descended again, enveloping my pulsating flesh within her.

Unconsciously, we thrust in rhythm to the sound of waves crashing against the coastline. The moon shone on our writhing bodies, lighting the water that roiled around us and making us feel as though we were standing in the sea itself. We were both moved by the beauty of the moment, but even more by the rising excitement within our pounding loins. Without warning, my climax began. Then, as if cued by an unseen conductor, Yvette joined me. Together, we told the moon and the stars of the glory of our union. Even after the spasms of ecstasy were spent, we remained tangled in each other’s arms, bathing in the fluid of desire. I became hard again within minutes. When she felt my erection bumping demandingly against her, she hummed her approval. “Henry,” she said adoringly. “You’ve got the sexual energy of a teenager. Take me again. Oh, yes, take me again.”

Lifting her in my arms, I stepped up and out of the tub. With a strength that I had forgotten, I carried her, dripping, across the room to the immense platform bed and· laid her gently down on the sheet. She moaned and reached for me, encircling my neck in her loving. arms. I lowered my naked body onto her, my questing rod instantly finding its mark. As I slipped inside her, I pressed our bodies together, reveling in the sensuous softness of her breasts against my wet skin. We moved together for a long time, rising slowly to the peak of erotic pleasure and retreating deliberately to prolong the delight. Finally, when we could not draw our desperate contact out any longer, we came in uni. son, rolling and writhing in each other’s arms like young lovers. Afterward, we lay side by side in the night, enjoying the moonlit ocean view and fondling each other adoringly. Some time in the wee hours, we made love again, this time lazily and casually, celebrating the years we had spent learning about each other’s bodies, demonstrating our ability to please each other’s fancy and to satisfy each other’s needs. When the sun rose, we did it again, welcoming the new day as the beginning of our second quarter-century together.

I’m still drilling teeth for a living. And there are still some evenings when I don’t feel like doing anything but sit in front of the television set. with Yvette by my side. But we seem to have rediscovered the ecstasy of romantic sex. That anniversary trip was an erotic rebirth for us, inspiring us to relive the passionate excitement that brought us together in the first place. We talk about it sometimes, whispering in our bed as we begin our lovemaking. At our age it’s rather difficult to select a single experience and call it the ultimate. But, without a doubt, that erotic holiday at the honeymoon cottage ranks with the best sex we ever had.

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    GETTING OFF ON THE WEEKEND

    December 3rd, 2015

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    Ellen is five-foot-eight and quite thin. Her light brown hair is medium length and simply styled. At twenty-four, Ellen is the mother of two baby girls, ages one and two. In addition, she works part-time as a legal secretary. The combination probably accounts for the lines around her blue eyes and the tired expression that she usually wears. Her husband, Chuck, makes deliveries for an over night courier service and attends classes in the evenings in hopes of earning a bachelor’s degree. Ellen says that she and Chuck have their best sex every few months, when they treat themselves to an erotic weekend.

    It isn’t easy having two babies so very close in age. Being a working mother makes it even harder. But these days, it’s impossible for a family to live on just one in.come, so I really have no choice. Chuck helps out as much as he can, but between work and school he’s hardly ever home. When he is, he has to study. I’m sure things will get better when he finishes school. Until then, this schedule is hell on our sex life. Chuck and I started going out together when we were in high school. Everybody thought we made a perfect couple and assumed that we would get married after graduation. I guess I assumed it, too. That’s why I didn’t feel any guilt when we started having sex in our senior year. The first time we did it was on the couch at Chuck’s house. We were studying together when his parents said that they were going out for the evening. As soon as they left, we started hugging and kissing. As usual, I let Chuck open my blouse and bra so that he could play with my breasts. Before long, I was completely undressed and Chuck’s hands were all over my naked body. It felt so good that I wanted to touch him the same way.

    With frantic fingers, I plucked at the front of his pants in an effort to get them open. Ch:uck was surprised, because although he had frequently undressed me, his clothes always stayed on. This time it was dllferent. I got his dick out and began stroking it exuberantly. Within minutes, he too was naked. We grabbed at each other roughly, excited to be going so far at last. Artlessly, we rolled around until he was on top of me, his erect cock poised at the opening of my pussy. Hesitating for the briefest possible instant, we simultaneously lunged toward each other. I felt his erection tear into me, filling my loins with pain. I started to scream, but his mouth was pressed so tightly to mine that nothing came out but a muffed cry.

    Chuck, oblivious to my suffering, humped away until he was buried to the hilt inside me. Just as the pain of his entry was beginning to subside, he moaned and started his climax. Seconds later, he was lying by my side panting in an effort to catch his breath. When I saw streaks of bloody semen on my legs, I cried. My virginity was a thing of the past. We agreed that it had been a mistake that we wouldn’t repeat until we were older and more settled. But two hours later, we did it again. This time it didn’t hurt, and the fuck lasted a lot longer, although I didn’t have an orgasm. Since I didn’t know what to expect anyway, I wasn’t disappointed, and it did feel good. After that we did it every chance we got, learning more about each other’s desires and needs as we went along. We got better and better at it, and it felt more and more wonderful. By the seventh or eighth time, I was getting close enough to orgasm to realize that it was supposed to happen. A week or so after that, I climaxed with him. I couldn’t wait for graduation so that we could be married.

    When school ended, Chuck started acting strange. I realize now that he wasn’t ready for marriage. The prospect frightened him. Every time I brought it up, our discussion would end in an argument. After a while, he seemed to be looking for excuses not to see me. A few months after we graduated, Chuck said that he needed a break from our relationship. He said he thought it would be best if we tried dating other people. My mother always told me that a girl shouldn’t have sex until marriage because if she did the guy would have no reason to marry her. “Why should he buy the cow,” she had said, “if he can get the milk for free?” It was beginning to look like she was right. Chuck and I stopped seeing each other.

    It wasn’t until a year and a half later at a. party that we ran into each other. In the meantime, I had dated a few other guys, but never even came close to having sex with them. When I saw Chuck at the party, my heart started to flutter. I stayed as far away from him as I could because I was sure he no longer had any interest in me. He came over to where I was standing, though, and asked me to dance. While we were dancing, he said that he had been missing me a lot and wanted to call me but just didn’t know what to say. We danced every dance. After the party, we went out for a soda. We started dating again, and within six months, we were married.

    At first our life together was like a vacation. Chuck drove the delivery truck and I worked as a secretary. At the end of each workday, we rushed home to our tiny apartment to have sex; and then to have dinner, and then to have sex again. We didn’t have much money, but that didn’t matter. We _made beautiful love, and that was enough for us. Most of our friends were still single and lived with their parents. As a result, they had money to spend on shows and ·entertainments. We didn’t need that, because Chuck and I made our own entertainment. Sex was our pastime. We elevated it to a high art by making up games that indulged our fantasies.

    One night, for example, I came home from work to find the apartment dark and unusually quiet. When I turned on the light, I was startled to see Chuck with a toy pistol in his hand; his face completely hidden by a ski mask. Before I had a chance to say anything, he leaped behind me and put his hand over my mouth. Holding the toy pistol to my head, he said, “Behave yourself or I’ll kill you.” Falling right into it, I acted scared. “Please don’t hurt me,” I begged. “I’ll do anything you say.” At gun point, he ordered me to lift my skirt. and pull the crotch of my panties to one side. Then, forcing me to lie on the kitchen table, he opened his pants and stuck his cock into me. He fucked me without removing a single article of clothing from either of us, keeping the pistol pointed at my head the entire time. After he came, he pulled out of me, zipped his fly, and left the apartment. When he returned half an hour later, he acted as if nothing had happened.

    Another time, I borrowed some clothes from a girlfriend who was smaller than I was. I changed into them before leaving work. When I arrived at our apartment, I was wearing black fish-net stockings and a short black leather skirt that was so tight I could barely walk. I had removed my bra and wore a tight, low-cut red sweater, which showed my tits practically down to the nipples.

    Instead of letting myself in with a key, I knocked. I heard Chuck call, “Who’s there?” I answered, “Escort service.” When Chuck opened the door, the puzzled look on his face changed slowly into a grin of understanding. “You called Ellen’s Escorts?” I asked, wriggling my shoulders to move my breasts from side to side. “I’m here to serve you. Pay in advance, please.” I took the ten-dollar bill that Chuck extracted from his pocket, slipping it into my cleavage. Then, stepping inside, I said, “Drop your pants, please. I don’t have much time.” Obediently, Chuck undid his belt and let his pants slip down to his ankles. His cock was already erect and straining at the taut fabric of his white briefs. Abruptly, I pulled down his underwear to free it. Without another word, I dropped to my knees and took his prick in my hand.

    I rubbed it up and down roughly, trying to simulate the callous movements of a paid hooker. When I felt it bulge with excitement, I gently licked its head with the tip of my tongue. I nibbled up and down the shaft until Chuck’s breath was coming in labored pants. Then, without any further ceremony, I took the length of it into my mouth and started sucking voraciously. I bobbed my head back_ and forth in a fucking motion, trying to brlng him off as quickly as possible. When I felt him swelling in preparation for ejaculation, I pulled my mouth away and finished him by stroking him to climax. Before his cock was completely soft, I stood up and said, “Thank you. Call again.”

    As the apartment door closed behind me, I could hear him saying, “Hey, where are you going?” I returned about twenty minutes later carrying a pizza. I bought it with the ten dollars that he paid me for the blowjob. Just when I was beginning to think that we would share these moments of erotic bliss forever, I discovered I was pregnant. We were both thrilled, of course. But I don’t think either of us realized the change that a baby would bring to our lives.

    For the first few months of the pregnancy, we were more active sexually than ever. Chuck said that my rounded belly and enlarged breasts turned him on. That turned me on. Chuck bought a plastic vibrator, which brought us many pleasures. We spent hours playing with it and fucking almost every night. We invented new sex games, tailoring them to fit my blossoming condition. As the time for my delivery came closer, I found myself feeling clumsy and ungainly. After I stopped. working, our sexual activity decreased drastically. Then Helen was born, and sex went out the window. At first, it was because I lost interest. But even when I started wanting it again, we just didn’t have time.

    The baby seemed to require all my energy and attention. She never slept and was always demanding to be fed, held, or changed. It was all we could do to steal a quick fuck before going to sleep at night. Neither of us ever really felt satisfied. All too soon, I became pregnant again. Shortly after Charlene was born, we realized that we wouldn’t be able to survive financially unless I ·returned to work. When I went back to my old job on a part-time basis, it began to look like we would have to give up sex completely. The girls were so close in age, and little babies are so needful, that it was all I could do to keep up with them.

    Chuck started going to school at night. With school, our jobs, delivering the babies to and from day care, and taking care of them when we were home, neither of us had the strength or the time for sex. Not that we stopped wanting it. Not by a long shot. I remember sitting at my typewriter at work staring into space and thinking about the days when Chuck and I used to make love all weekend long. I imagined complex erotic scenarios, remembering games we had played and inventing new ones in my head. One evening, when he had a break between classes, Chuck called me to see how the kids were. I had been having a sex fantasy. It involved handcuffs. I was so horny that I asked Chuck to cut school and come home to fuck me. “Sorry, love,” he said. “You know I can’t do that. I’ve got to run or I’ll be late for class.”

    “Wait,” I implored. “I’ve got a real hot idea.” I tried to tell him about my fantasy, but he cut me off. “No time now,” he said. “Write it down or something. I’ll read it when I get home.” I was frustrated, but I couldn’t blame him. Life was just as hard for Chuck as it was for me. Remembering his suggestion, I got a sheet of paper and began describing a bondage fantasy, complete with manacles, shackles, whips, and chains. Later, when Chuck got home, he was too tired to read it. “Drop it in there,” he said, gesturing to a glass vase on the nightstand. “I’ll read it in the morning.” By then I was so tired that it didn’t make any difference anyway.

    The next morning when Chuck did get around to reading it, his face took on a wistful look of excitement. “This is great stuff,” he said. “Too bad there’s never time anymore. But let’s save the idea.” Suddenly his face lit up. “Why don’t we store our fantasies in this little vase? That way we’ll be ready whenever opportunity knocks.” That was the beginning of our new sex game. I wrote my desires down on slips of pink paper and Chuck wrote his on blue. Most of the time, we put them directly into the vase without showing them to each other. After a few months, the vase was filled to the brim. Sometimes we speculated about whether there were more pink slips or blue ones.

    One night, Chuck tapped the vase and said, “I think it’s time we did something about this collection.” “I think so, too,” I said. “But what?” He told me that he had arranged for his mother to take the girls the following weekend. “We’ll take turns drawing slips of paper out of the vase,” he said. “I’ll pick the pink ones and you’ll pick the blue. We’ll have to do whatever the fantasy requires.” It seemed like the weekend would never arrive. When it finally did, I was all worked up. I waved as Chuck’s mother drove off with our children in her car. As soon as she was out of sight, I turned to look at Chuck. He was grinning lewdly, the glass vase in his hand.

    “Let’s go into the bedroom,” he suggested in a whisper. “I’ll do one of yours.” He shook the vase and reached in to draw out a folded slip of pink paper. As he read it, a slow smile spread over his face. Passing it to me, he went to the closet. I glanced at the words I had written, probably six weeks before. “Tie me to the bed and don’t untie me until I’ve had three orgasms.” When I looked up, Chuck was standing in front of me with four neckties in his hand. I quickly undressed and lay back on the bed, spreading my arms and legs so that he could bind my wrists and ankles to the four comers of the bed frame. When he was done, I pulled at the ties to see whether they would really restrain me. I was truly a prisoner in my own bed.

    Lying naked and helplessly pinioned, I felt totally vulnerable. Chuck could do anything he wanted to make me come. There was nothing for me to do but lie there and take it. I tingled all over with excitement. Wide-eyed, I watched him remove his clothes to stand by the side of the bed looking down at me. His cock was stiff and swollen, sticking straight out in front of him. I could see a vein in its shank throbbing rhythmically. Slowly, he stroked its length as his eyes roamed over my bound body. I could tell that he was considering all the things he would do to me. Sitting beside me on the mattress, he placed his hands gently on my shoulders. He cupped them before trailing his fingers softly over my arms all the way to my wrists. The lightness of his touch was tantalizing. I could feel my nipples stirring, the dark disks that surround them crinkling with excitement.

    He leaned over and, without touching them, breathed warmly on my erect pink buds. At the same time, his fingers explored my armpits and strayed down my sides, caressing the ridges of my ribs and meandering over the prominences of my hips. His hands traveled over my nude body in a random pattern, one tickling the crease under my breast while the other traced the contours of my calf or thigh. I felt my pussy becoming damp as his strokes aroused my desire. His hands mounted my breasts and circled closer to my nipples. I wanted him to grasp and squeeze them, to twist and rub them, but he continued to tease me. I heard myself sigh . as he cupped one breast. I moaned as his hand traveled on. His fingers were tracing figure-eights across the plane of my belly, making little designs around my sensitive navel and dipping to a point just above the line of my pubic mound. He began moving the fingers of one hand in spirals aroud my pussy, driving me. frantic with longing. Arching my back, I tried to press myself upward against his tormenting hand. I wanted to feel his ·fingers inside of me. I wanted it desperately. He was teasing me with both hands now. One was toying gently with the curls of my pubic hair, venturing to twirl a few strands around his fingers before retreating to the softness of my abdomen. The other hand was stroking the insides of my thighs, reaching under me to swab a probing fingertip against my puckered anus.

    His touch came closer all the time to my heated center of desire, but still he held back. If I hadn,t been tied down, I would have thrown myself at him, wrapping my arms and legs tightly around him, forcing him to satisfy my needs. But I was helpless. My pussy dripped moisture, the fluids of my excitement dampening the pink folds of flesh that guarded my opening. I was possessed by an insatiable need for fulfillment. My clit was swollen and erect, hard as a ruby and begging for attention. I knew instinctively that it was peeking out from under its protective hood, all red and glistening.

    His fingers passed lightly over the lips of my pussy, bringing their heat to the nerve endings of my pleasure center. His fingers came closer. Closer. Maybe he was making contact. Maybe he was touching me; I wasn’t sure. Yes. His fingers were sliding alongside my clit, pressing my own flesh against it. I felt the erect little nubbin grow thicker, harder. Then the tip of his finger grazed its head and I felt myself explode. I wailed as my body gained release from the sexual tension that had been building for so long. Was it minutes? Or was it months? My eyes closed tightly. I rolled my head from side to side, rocking under the flashes of heated exhilaration that ran through my body. I gasped for breath, sobbing and whining with pleasure. As my climax reached its zenith, I slipped over the edge, drifting back to earth as though suspended from a huge satin parachute.

    A long time later, I opened my eyes to Chuck’s smile of satisfaction. ”That’s one,” he said. ”You still have two to go. This time, I’ll get right to the point.” Reaching into the night table drawer, he brought out the white plastic vibrator, which we had almost forgotten. He held it in front of my face for a moment to. give me a preview of my next pleasure. Then he flipped the switch to start it humming. In contrast to the teasing slowness with which he first aroused me, he placed the vibrator’s tip against my clit immediately. Although it had been at rest, the little organ sprang to life at once, reaching instant erection. Chuck held the vibrator directly on it, moving the device in small circles, keeping it always in contact With my pulsating button.

    I didn’t believe it could happen so fast the second time, but it did. Clouds of orgasm started forming within moments. Once they broke, there was no stopping the torrent. I seemed to be coming forever, my consciousness buffeted by the storm of erotic ecstasy. When it was over, I issued a satisfied sigh. Chuck turned the vibrator off and began stroking the outer lips of my pussy with its silent tip. “No, Chuck,” I begged. “Not yet. It’s too soon.” I wanted to snap my legs together to gain a moment’s rest before he started on me again. But the ties that bound me to the four comers of the bed made it impossible. There was nothing for me to do but take all the stimulation he offered.

    I felt him slip the plastic cylinder between the lips of my pussy, fucking me slowly with it. Involuntarily, I rocked my pelvis up to open myself for it. Incredibly, I wanted more. I wanted to feel it all the way in me. Sensing my need, Chuck moved it steadily deeper, filling me with the thickness of the sex toy. When it was buried as far as it would go, he stroked it in and out as if it were his cock. I clenched the muscles of my groin, tightening the walls of my pussy around it, increasing . the friction. I watched as he bent lower until, at last, his lips were pressed to my clitoris, already erect again. Just as he sucked the throbbing button into his mouth, he turned on the vibrator.

    I was overwhelmed by the flood of sensations that filled my rocking pelvis. I felt myself being fucked and licked at the same time, every nerve of my sex tingling with stimulation. Loudly, I filled the air with my passionate cries. Another orgasm was building in my humping loins. The flowing juices of my arousal bathed my clit as Chuck ran his tongue tip over its head again and again. The combination of his licking and the persistent vibrations inside my womb brought my climax rupturing forth. Tearing through the wall of resistance, it filled my body with shuddering spasms of sexual fulfillment. When my third orgasm ended, I fell back against the pillows and breathed deeply. I was completely satisfied, and yet I felt ready for more sex. Now I wanted to please Chuck the way he had pleased me. I wanted to bring him to the urgency of explosion by fulfilling one of his dearest fantasies.

    After a short rest, my husband untied me, and I reached into the vase for one of his blue papers. Following its instructions, I smacked his ass repeatedly until it glowed bright red and then sucked him until he soared. After that, he drew another pink paper. And after that I drew another blue. When the weekend was over, the vase was half empty. Waiting for Chuck’s mother to arrive with the babies, we agreed to have another erotic fantasy weekend as soon as possible. Since then, we’ve managed to spice up our life by devoting every seventh or eighth weekend to sex games. For us, these erotic holidays lead to the best sex ever. They give us something to look forward to as we write our fantasies down on slips of paper and refill the vase with them.

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      EROTIC HOLIDAY

      December 3rd, 2015

      short hair blonde ass naked

      Every now and then a good engine needs to be overhauled. Worn parts are replaced, repaired, restored, or re calibrated. The exterior is repainted, and the switches are rewired. When the job is done, the device has, in a way, been re-created. Re-creation is the process of being brought back into existence. When we apply the term to ourselves, we drop the hyphen and spell it recreation. Its meaning changes too, signifying the process of refreshing oneself with an entertaining activity. The change in meaning is only slight, however, because in refreshing ourselves we are, in a way, bringing ourselves back into existence. Without recreation, our spirits would run down like engines in need of an overhaul.

      Intimate relationships occasionally need re-creation also. Lovers, or husbands and wives, may involve themselves so much in their individual activities that they lose touch with each other. Their schedules become so filled with work and family responsibilities that there may not seem to be time for a fulfilling sex life. Although sexual attraction probably played a role in bringing them together, they may forget it in the struggle to pay bills or maintain a lifestyle. To keep passion from leaking slowly out of a love once charged with intense desire and emotion, some couples take an erotic holiday. They plan a night or weekend of sex the way other people plan a vacation. They select a particular date and location, faking, in advance, whatever reservations are necessary. They arrange to have all business out of the way so that nothing will interfere with their amorous adventure.

      Then, in a specially selected hideaway or in the privacy of their own bedroom, they devote themselves to lovemaking and romance. By forgetting the pressures of the workaday world and rediscovering sensual pleasure, they bring their stale relationships back into vibrant existence. Their sexual recreation becomes a true re-creation. People who have tried it say that their erotic holidays gave them the best sex they ever had.

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        WEEKEND SLAVE

        December 3rd, 2015

        Standing five and a half feet tall, with a trim and shapely body, Gina makes a striking appearance. Her long hair is straight and brown. Her green eyes are shaped like a cat’s. Gina is an assistant editor for a young women’s fashion magazine. She was divorced a little more than a year ago at the age of thirty-two. For the past several months, she has been seeing Frank, a radio disk jockey, on a steady basis.

        My ex … husband and I were married when we were in our early twenties and hung together for almost ten years. It was awful. Thank God we didn’t have any children; that would have made the divorce even messier than it was. There were lots of problems in our marriage, but sex was probably the worst of them. Lovemaking was never high on my ex’ s list of priorities. If I learned anything from my marriage, it was that life held no hope for sexual fulfillment. The closest I ever came to satisfaction was when I masturbated, which I did occasionally, but always with a great sense of shame and guilt. Actually, until I met Frank, I didn’t discover that my sexual appetites could be nourished. Frank is four years older than I am and went through a divorce just about the same time I did. When we met, I guess we were both hungry for companionship. Frank was mentioned in a story I was editing about radio personalities. When I called him to verify some facts, he invited me to lunch. I was sexually attracted to him as soon as he sat down across the table from me. He was dark and mysterious-looking, with a compact body and very muscular hands. There was something in his voice that made it soothing and exciting at the same time.

        Apparently, he was attracted to me too, ·because before lunch was over, he invited me to have dinner with him that same evening. Cautiously, I accepted. I was lonely, but after the horrible experience I had recently been through, I was unwilling to get involved in anything like a relationship. We dined at a nice restaurant and shared a bottle of Beaujolais. I found Frank witty and entertaining. But when he suggested a nightcap at his apartment, I made up an excuse about having to get home early. Frank laughed. “Let’s face it,” he said. “I’m trying to get you into bed, and you’re turning me down.” I was flustered, but he laughed again. “I’m just being Frank,” he said. “How about dinner tomorrow?”

        We went out twice more that first week and three times the next. Each time we did, Frank invited me to his bed, and I repeated my refusal. It may sound strange in this day and age, but I had slept with only one man. I was curious about how it would be with Frank, but I was convinced that all men were like my ex-husband, incapable of understanding a woman’s sexual needs. After our tenth or eleventh date, my curiosity got the better of me. I agreed to accompany Frank to his place, but deep down I was expecting disappointment.

        Frank surprised me. He was considerate and thorough. He kissed and caressed me until I was completely aroused. Then, slowly and artfully, he undressed me. Postponing the fulfillment of his own needs, he attended to mine. His fingers found my most sensitive spots. His lips nibbled at all the right places. By the time he entered me, I was only a moment away from orgasm. After I came, he continued thrusting inside me until I was ready again. This time, he climaxed with me. When it was over, we lay together in silence, our arms and legs intertwined. I never knew that sex could be so good. After that night, Frank and I saw each other regularly. Neither of us was ready to get involved in any kind of deep commitment, but I didn’t go out with anyone else, and neither did he. We had dinner together almost every night. Afterward we made love, either in his place or mine. We occasionally spent the whole night together, but most of the time we parted, sleeping separately in our own apartments.

        Frank was a wonderful lover. Sex wasn’t just the ending to an evening out. He made it part of everything we did. Sometimes he would call me at work and whisper hoarsely about some fantasy that he was having. Other times he would describe things we did the night before, using that frenetic radio voice he usually reserved for announcing hits on his show. He even found a way to turn sporting events into sex games. We’re both ardent fans and we spend lots of evenings together watching sports on Frank’s big-screen TV. Sometimes we make bets with erotic payoffs. If the shooter makes the basket, I have to give Frank a blowjob. If the batter strikes out, Frank has to go down on me for fifteen minutes without stopping. That sort of thing. Usually, we wait till the game is over before the winner gets to collect. By then the anticipation builds to heat up the session that follows. In fact, one of those bets led to the best sex I ever had.

        It was a boxing match-a ·championship bout. The challenger was about fifteen years older than the champ, and I predicted that the champ would knock him out within the first three rounds. Frank insisted that the fight would go the limit and that the challenger would win it by a decision. I was so sure he was wrong that I was prepared to bet the farm. In a flash of inspiration, Frank proposed the heaviest stakes ever. “A weekend,” he said. “The loser has tq be the winner’s sex slave for an entire weekend.” “Okay,” I said smugly. “You’ll have to do everything I say from the time work ends Friday until midnight Sunday night.” Frank laughed. “It’s going to be the other way around, I assure you,” he said. “But let’s make sure we have this straight. You’re betting on the champ, and I’m picking the challenger. The winner will be master for the whole weekend. The loser is the slave and has to do everything the winner says.” ”Agreed,” I answered, certain of victory.

        The match ended just as Frank said it would. He sat there grinning, his mind obviously working on the things he was planning to make me do. The idea of being his sex slave rather appealed to me. I found myself becoming aroused anticipating the erotic weekend that lay ahead. We didn’t see each other on Thursday because Frank had to work late at the station. On Friday, he called me at least fifteen times to remind me of my enslavement. The last call came just a couple of minutes before five as I was preparing to leave my office. He phoned to say authoritatively that I was to be at his apartment by six, ready to serve him. In a seductive voice, I told him that I was looking forward to it. I was imagining a sort of romantic submission in which he put little silver chains on my ankles and made me wear a studded collar while I served him dinner in bed. Then he would make passionate love to me, forcing me to have one orgasm after another.

        Frank had a different kind of slavery in mind. When I entered his apartment, he was sitting in an easy chair like a king on a throne. I started toward him for a hello kiss when, with a curt gesture of his hand, he commanded me to stop. “Right there, slave,” he said. “Strip!” I felt myself tingling all over. His voice was so harsh, his tone so dominant. He sounded so impersonal, ordering me to remove my clothes while he just sat and watched. I trembled with excitement and reached back to unzip my dress. “Do it slowly,” he commanded. “Tum around so I can watch the zipper come down.” The idea that he would enjoy something as simple as that aroused me tremendously. It made me feel sexy and desirable. I knew that I was in for an evening of erotic bliss. Facing away from him, I obeyed, unzipping as gradually as I could. I tried to picture the black lace of my bra and panties coming slowly into view. When I was ready to step out of the dress, he barked, “Now face me, slave girl. I want to see your tits.”

        The brutal tone of his command inflamed me. As I turned, I lowered the dress from my shoulders. When I looked at him, I saw that his pants were open. He had his cock in his hand and was stroking it slowly while he stared at me. Stepping out of the dress, I tossed it aside and awaited his pleasure. “Take off the bra,” he said. “And rub your nipples.” Every word excited me. Watching me wriggle out of my bra, he continued fondling his hard .. on. My nipples, usually pink, were turning bright rosy red in my excitement. I had never performed this way before, not even in fantasy. Jolts of pleasure passed through me as I petted my breasts and twisted my nipples for his amusement. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter under his hungry gaze. . “Now the panties,” he commanded. “Take them off so I can see your pussy.”

        I found myself feeling a strange kind of delicious embarrassment. He had seen me naked many times, but this was different. I felt like a slave standing on· the auction block for inspection by my master. Frank licked his lips greedily as I reached for the waistband to draw the delicate lace over my thighs. Stepping out of it, I stood before him totally nude. ”Now rub your pussy,” he instructed. ”Put your fingers in it and hold yourself open so I can see.” He leaned forward, staring intently at my slit. “Move closer, slave girl,” he added. “I want a good look.” I took two steps toward him and began rubbing my juices all over the pouting lips of my sex. I was feeling totally stimulated, absorbed in my erotic performance and in his erotic ·commands. My love button was hard and swollen. I hoped that he could see it peeking through. I pictured his tongue on it. I couldn’t wait. “Now rub your clit for me,” he said. “And rub it good.” I started to comply, running my fingertips lightly in little circles around the sensitive nubbin. I hadn’t masturbated since Frank and I got together; it didn’t seem legitimate. But letting him watch me do it was different. It felt wonderful. I loved having his eyes on me while my fingers found my centers of pleasure.

        “That will have to be enough,” he said suddenly. “And I’m afraid it’s all you’re going to get until the weekend’s over, my slave.” I was shocked. “You’re kidding,” I said. “Aren’t you?” He reached out to hand me something. “Not kidding at all,” he answered. “Now put this on.” I never· knew such a thing existed. It was a kind of corset made of black leather. The crotch was closed by a thick leather flap sewn onto the back and fastened in the front with a stout-looking brass lock. “What is this?” I asked, incredulous. “A chastity belt?” “Exactly,” he answered. “To make sure the slave girl’s pussy isn’t touched all weekend. Now put it on and come here.”

        I struggled into the medieval garment and stood in front of him. He inspected it carefully, yanking on the lock to make sure it was properly closed. Leaning back in his chair he said, “Now, give me a handjob.” His cock was standing straight up through his open fly. I waited a moment, thinking that he would. want to remove his clothes, but he sat there regally. Realizing that he expected me to service him just the way he was, I dropped to my knees before him. Taking his erect penis in my hand, I felt a thrill run through my body. I know it sounds weird, but the idea of being his sex object and doing whatever I was told was marvelously arousing. I stroked him obediently, feeling his sex muscle swell against my fingers. Within moments, his come was spurting into the air. It was exciting to see him get off so fast. “Very good,” he said. “Now suck me till I get hard again.” Leaning over his lap, I felt the leather crotch-flap pull tight against my vagina. Every movement of my body caused it to constrict, erotically stimulating my sensitive membranes. I mouthed his flaccid penis while the heat built up inside me. The salty taste turned me on even more.

        I licked him hungrily, certain that he would reward me with intercourse when I got him fully erect. It didn’t take long for his cock to become turgid within the warmth of my mouth. When I felt it throbbing to full capacity, I drew back and touched the head lightly with the tip of my tongue. · “Don’t you want to unlock this now?” I whispered. “I’d love to feel you in me.” “No way,” he said. “You’re my slave. Finish me with your mouth.” Still believing that the evening would end with his hardness inside me, I tongued him to climax. “I think I’ll have you draw my bath now,” he said when his orgasm ended. “Then you can bathe me, and maybe I’ll even let you get me off again, in the tub.”

        I was beginning to think he was serious about not touching my pussy all weekend. By the time his bath was finished, I knew it was so. He made me lather his cock and balls with hot water and soap and rub him with slippery foam until he came again. Throughout the weekend, I gave him orgasm after orgasm. I used every possible way that he or I could imagine, so long as my pussy wasn’t involved. I played with his ass and sucked his cock. I stroked him with my fingers and with the soles of my feet. I held his hard-0n between my tits and moved up and down until his hot sperm shot into my cleavage. I tickled his entire body with my long hair and blew hot breath on his genitals. I kissed his lips· and his nipples while I jerked him off. He never so much as touched me. I was his slave entirely. He made me wear the chastity belt all the time, even when we were sleeping. He unlocked it when I needed to use the bathroom, only to refasten it as soon as I was finished. The leather flap across my pussy stimulated me almost to the point of orgasm and kept me hanging there interminably. My arousal peaked and remained at the summit for hours at a time.

        The sight of his swollen cock spurting into the air or onto my breasts and thighs brought me trembling to the brink of the abyss. The things I did to his body made my insides tingle with erotic hunger. Each moment took me higher, each sub.missive act further inflaming my passions. Sometimes he let me think that he might be merciful and permit me to have a climax. Just a little ·one to tide me over. Once he even put the key in the lock on my chastity belt, sadistically changing his mind at the last minute. He teased and tantalized me, asking if I’d like to get fucked. I wanted to scream, “Yes, yes, yes. Please fuck me. Please oh please oh please.” But I soon learned that he was immovable.

        By Sunday evening, I was watching the clock and counting the hours. Although my erotic appetite was overwhelming, I actually enjoyed my role as obedient slave. I had never been in so intense a state of sexual excitement for so long a period of time. For the past forty-eight hours, I’d been having sex in one form or another almost continuously. If I had been free to climax, it would have been over a long time ago. Instead, the sustained excitement was like an endless orgasm. Frank seemed to understand this and had a way of increasing my stimulation each time he came. At ten P.M., Frank said, “You’ve been such a good slave that I think I’m going to reward you.” When he fitted the key into the lock on my chastity belt, I thought he was taunting me again. But this time, he turned it and opened the lock. Pulling the flap open, he freed my hungry sex from its constricting prison. The fresh air bathed my moist membranes, caressing me like a lover’s kiss. Uttering a strangled groan, Frank fell on me, pressing his face against the damp cushion of hair that surrounded my pussy. He began kissing and licking me, his lips and tongue moving furiously up and down the length of my slit. He had been as hungry for my sex as I was for his. The moment the tip of his tongue found the button of my clit, I started to come. The sexual energy that had been building in me demanded release. My erotic hunger cried out as I gorged myself on the movements of his mouth.

        My first orgasm was still bursting from my womb when I felt him carrying me toward my second. The waves of bliss were so potent that I tangled my fingers in his hair, trying to pull his face away so I could regain my strength. Heedless, he licked on, lifting my spirit to a plane of shuddering ecstasy. My passionate screams filled the air as climax followed climax, the second barely ending before the third began to build. The muscles of my abdomen went tense, my back arching to lift my body off the mattress. I pressed my thighs to the sides of his head and bucked wildly against his nibbling lips and his thrusting tongue. Only after my fourth orgasm was spent did he let me fall back against the bed to rest for a moment before mounting me.

        How could I take more after all those thundering climaxes? How could I possibly be ready to feel his cock inside me? How could I endure more stimulation so soon? Somehow I did! As he. slid slowly into my palpitating vagina, my excitement soared again. I was acutely conscious of the membranes of my sex parting before the onslaught of his plundering penis. He was filling me, stuffing me with the thick heft of his manhood. All the waiting was worthwhile. Nothing had ever felt this explosively pleasurable before. I clawed at his back as he drove rhythmically in and out of me, each stroke taking me up another notch on the perilous climb to total release. I tottered at the edge, frightened of the final plunge. I felt my consciousness slipping away. I was merging with the cosmic flow, my juices floating me to nirvana. For one aching moment, I clung desperately to the earth. Then Frank’s thrusting cock tore me loose, casting me spinning through the vastness of erotic space. I thought my orgasm would go on forever. Totally unaware, I sang my pleasure to the heavens. Frank joined me, adding his manly groans to the harmony of our fulfillment.

        Later, Frank carried me gently to the bath, tenderly lowering me into the hot water. Lovingly, he bathed me, soothing the sex muscles that had strained with pleasure until they were fatigued. Then, after drying me with a soft thick towel, he carried me to bed and held me in his arms until I fell into a smiling satisfied sleep. We’ve had lots of good sex since then, and I’m sure there’s lots more of it ahead of us. I’ll never forget that weekend though. I starved for two and a half days in a state of excruciating excitement before feasting on the best sex I ever had.

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          THE WEDDING FEAST

          December 3rd, 2015

          Michael is thirty-nine years old and has been a successful New York theater musician for more than.half his life. He sports· a sixty-dollar haircut, his shoulder-length hair carefully layered to preserve a well-groomed appearance. Its shiny black color contrasts dramatically with the steel gray of his eyes. He is lean and agile at a height of six foot-two. A one-carat diamond stud flashes in his left earlobe to call attention to his masculine good looks. When we ask about the best sex he ever had, he wistfully recalls his wedding night, ten years ago.

          I started playing the drums kind of late in life. I was eleven. Most pros start before they’re seven. I learned fast, though, and was playing in a neighborhood rock band by the time I was fifteen. At nineteen, I got my first job on Broadway, in the orchestra for a hit musical. The show ran four years and I worked the whole time. When it closed, I got a gig with another musical right away. Since then, I’ve worked steadily, one show after another, with never more than a week or two between gigs. That’s how I met Sandy. It was about eleven years ago. I was twenty-eight, and she was twenty seven. A friend of mine who was playing sax in a new show invited me to a party to celebrate the opening of rehearsals. It was at somebody’s posh Park Avenue apartment, one of those open house kind of affairs with people drifting in and out all night. I noticed Sandy the minute she entered the room. You might say it was a case of lust at first sight. She had long, straight blond hair, the softest I’ve ever seen, and eyes the color of sapphires. She was tall and thin, with small breasts and tight little buns. Her curvy muscular legs tipped me off to her occupation.

          I grabbed two glasses of champagne and headed straight toward her. “Welcome,” I said, handing her a glass. “I bet you’re a dancer.” She flashed me a smile that could have melted steel and looked me over carefully from head to toe. “And you must be a drummer,” she answered, sipping the champagne. “Hey, wait a minute,” I said. “One look at those gorgeous legs told me that you’re a dancer. But how did you know that I play drums?” She smiled knowingly. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime,” she said softly. “When we know each other better.” Her voice was deep and husky, making her words sound like sexy music. “Oh? Do you think we will?” I asked. My mind was racing, trying to remember whether I had ever met her before. I knew I couldn’t have, because I never would have forgotten some one like her.

          She wasn’t coy or cutesy, like a lot of women would have been in that situation. She just looked me in the eye and said, “Yes. I think we will.” She was right, of course. We talked and laughed together for an hour or so, only half aware that there was a crowded party going on around us. After what I thought was a decent interval, I suggested that we go somewhere for a drink, and she immediately agreed. We found a quiet comer in a cocktail lounge. When our drinks arrived, I said, “Well, do you think we know each other well enough yet? How could you tell I’m a drummer?” Sandy affected an expression of mystery. “It might ha ye been your hands,” she said. “Or it might have been the rhythm of your movements. But probably it was when I saw you coming toward me with those two glasses of champagne, I asked a friend who you were, and she told me.” I laughed heartily. What a great sense of humor. We stayed in the lounge for a while to continue our conversation. Although we played at courtship sparring, we both knew how the evening would end. Within hours we were writhing in bed together in her apartment.

          We went out again the next night and started seeing each other a few times a week from that point on. Sandy worked in the chorus of a musical a few blocks from where I played. We would meet for drinks and dinner after work and end up at her place, where we would make love until the wee hours. We started ·spending more and more time together. I found that when I wasn’t with her, I was thinking about her and longing for her. After only three months, I asked her to move in with me, and she accepted. Because her apartment was larger and more centrally located than mine, I actually ended up moving in with her. Everything was great, right from the start. We ate together, laughed together, slept together, and enjoyed life together. Every night after work at 10:30, we both rushed home to make passionate love.

          There was something about our sexual communication that made it clear that we were right for each other. I’d been with a lot of sexy women before that. You know how show business is. But no other woman ever satisfied me the way Sandy did. For one thing, I have a powerful appetite, always hungry for sex. Every night. Every morning. And in the middle of the day too, if I can get it. None of the other women I knew could keep up with me. Most of the time, after their first orgasm, they were ready to roll over and go to sleep. I always wanted more. Oh, some would try to accommodate me, but I could tell that their hearts weren’t really in it. With Sandy it was different. She had the same urgent sexual drive as I did. When she came back for seconds, I knew that it was because she wanted it as much as I. I didn’t usually go to work until evening, but she was rehearsing a new show and had to work all afternoon. Some .. times she’d call me from rehearsal to say that she was getting a break and heading home. When that happened, I’d wait for her, naked, in our apartment. As soon as she opened the door, I’d pounce on her, stripping off her clothes and scattering them around the room as I pulled her to the bed or dragged her to the floor. She didn’t usually get more than twenty or thirty minutes off, so we’d start making love immediately and keep it up until the last possible second.

          At night, we would have more time for leisure. Sometimes our foreplay would last for hours. We would take turns at massaging each other or kissing each other’s bodies, until the kisses turned to oral sex. We would bring each other right to the edge of orgasm before stopping to switch roles. She satisfied all my urges, all my wants, all my erotic desires. And I knew I was satisfying her. It wasn’t just sex, either. We were deeply in love with each other. We both knew that it was only a matter of time before we got married. I brought up the subject of marriage after we had been living together for eight months. Sandy agreed at once, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. We set the date, reserved a ballroom in a Midtown hotel, and started inviting friends and families.

          One night, about two weeks before the wedding, Sandy surprised me. As usual, I hurried home right after work, looking forward to several hours of steamy sex. But my fiancee had other ideas. When I arrived, she Was still fully dressed. I noticed a suitcase in our apartment’s entrance hall.

          I was horrified. Was she leaving me? Had she changed her mind about the wedding? “Sandy,” I asked nervously. “What’s going on?” “Don’t worry, my love,” she said in a voice that calmed me. “I’ve been thinking about something and I want to tell you about it. “You see,” she continued. “Like every girl in the world, I always dreamed about my wedding night. I always wanted it to be something special. But the way we’re living, it won’t be special at all. We’ll wake up together, have breakfast together, and get dressed together just like we do every day. Then we’ll go to the wedding together and come home together afterward. Now what’s special about that?”

          I saw her point, but I couldn’t imagine how she intended to change things. “I guess you’re right,” I said. “But that’s life in the modem world. After all, we’ve been living together for almost a year. There’s nothing we can do about that now.” “Well, in a way there is,” she answered. “If we don’t live together between now and then, our wedding night can seem like something special.” Now I understood the suitcase that I had seen when I came in. In a strange way it made sense, but I didn’t like it. ”My friend Kathryn has a lovely apartment overlooking the river,” she continued. “She left for Europe this morning and gave me her key. I’ve arranged for you to house-sit for the next two weeks.” I was stunned. “What?” I stammered. “You mean you’re kicking me out?”

          “Don’t look at it that way, Michael,” she said in a soothing voice. ”Think of it as an investment in our future. After two weeks of not sleeping together, our wedding night will be so hot and sizzling that we’ll remember it for the rest of our lives.” As she spoke, she undid two of the buttons at the front of her blouse. I became hard at once. “I don’t know,” I said, trying to sound logical. “Maybe there’s a better way. I mean, two weeks seems kind of drastic.

          Suppose we just agree not to have sex for two or three nights before our wedding.” “No, no,” she said in the husky whisper that had helped hook me on her in the first place. “I promise you a night that’ll be worth waiting for. After two weeks without it, we’ll be so turned on that there isn’t anything we won’t be ready to do.” She undid another button and leaned over to lick my ear with the tip of her tongue. “Let me tell you some of the things I have in mind,” she whispered, reaching for my hand and placing it inside the open front of her blouse. I cupped her breasts, feeling her erect nipples poking against the inside of her bra. I was painfully hard, throbbing inside my pants.

          She started describing the most exciting sex acts I could imagine, promising me a night filled with bliss. She told me exactly where she would put her fingers and her tongue. She told me about an erotic dance she was creating especially for the occasion, a dance that would arouse me more than I had ever been aroused. She promised to do things I had always dreamed of, and some I had never dreamed of. She alluded to positions so unusual that we had never even tried them before. All the while, she was blowing her hot breath in my ear and nibbling it. I was so turned on that I would have gone along with anything. “Okay, my love,” I murmured. “It’s a crazy idea, but if that’s what you want, I’ll do it.” As I spoke, I slipped my fingers inside her bra to search for the glowing ember of her nipple. Before I found it, Sandy pulled away from me, leaving my empty hand poised in midair.

          “Quick,” I said. “Let’s go to bed right now. If it’s going to be the last time until the wedding, I want to get started right away. I’ll pack in the morning.” “No, my darling,” Sandy said, re buttoning her blouse. “This morning was the last time until the wedding. Your suitcase is already packed. Here’s the key to Kathryn’s place. The address is on this slip of paper.” “What?” I sputtered. “Why tonight? Why can’t we just sleep together once more before this prison sentence begins?” “No,” she repeated firmly, opening the door. “You’re out of here right now.” “But … ” Without quite knowing how it happened, I found myself standing outside the closed door of our apartment with a suitcase in one hand and her friend’s key in the other. I turned to ring the bell but stopped myself, realizing that her mind was made up and there was no chance of changing it. For the next two weeks, I went slowly crazy. We talked to each other on the phone two or three times a day, but never for more than a few minutes. She always managed to find some excuse when I asked her to meet me, saying that she was very busy at rehearsal or that she had too many other things to do. I missed her terribly and I was counting the days.

          To make matters worse, I was horny as hell. Without any warning, I had gone from feast to famine. Sandy and I had been having sex several times a day, and suddenly I was on a sexual starvation diet. I tried jerking off, but that just didn’t fill the bill. Once I even tried doing it while talking to her on the phone, figuring that it would be a little like making love. She knew instantly, though, from the sound of my breathing. ”Now, you cut that out,” she said. Embarrassed, I stopped. As soon as we were off the phone, I finished what I had started, but it just wasn’t enough. I was beginning to find it difficult to sleep at night, tossing and turning for hours between twenty- or thirty-minute snatches of slumber. My erection never seemed to go away, and when I rolled around restlessly in my solitary bed, it pressed painfully against the mattress. I lost my appetite and was losing weight as a result. I never realized how sexual starvation could gnaw at a person day after day, night after night.

          I couldn’t even concentrate on my work. I beat out my rhythms mechanically, relying on reflexes that I developed in the year or so that the show had been running. Instead of thinking about the music, I was thinking about my erotic needs. The worst part was knowing that they wouldn’t be fulfilled when work was finished or when the night was over. It seemed that I had been living like a monk for centuries, although it hadn’t been quite two weeks. It was sheer agony. By the time our wedding day rolled around, all I could think about was making love to Sandy. Never mind the ceremony. Never mind the reception. I wanted the honeymoon to start right away. I was obsessing. I was so hungry for sex that my body ached. I wasn’t at all sure that I’d be able to get the pants of my wedding suit on over my hard-on. I think I lost contact with reality for a while. In my mind, the wedding had turned into a night of lovemaking on a bed of passion. When I arrived at the hall and saw the room filled with guests, I realized that the consummation of our desires was still several eternal hours away. My brother, who was acting as my best man, thought I had the jitters because I was having second thoughts about getting married. Boy, was he mistaken. I wanted that ceremony more than anything I ever wanted before.

          I don’t remember much about it other than some hastily mumbled “I do’s” and a voice pronouncing us man and wife. I had reserved a room in that very hotel and wanted to rush up to it as soon as the ceremony ended. But there was still that endless dinner and reception to sit through. All the guests were eating and drinking and having a ball. Everyone but me. Food and dancing were the last things on my mind. All I wanted was to roll my bride in my arms, kiss her, and make wonderful love to her. When the band struck up “A Groovy Kind of Love,” everyone called for Sandy and me to dance alone. As we glided across the floor, I held my wife tightly against me, fearful that the bulge of my erection would embarrass me. “Let’s get out of here,” I murmured. “Everybody’s having a good time. No one will notice if we slip away. Isn’t that what newlyweds do?”

          “Oh, silly,” she said, giggling like a virgin. “We haven’t even cut the cake yet.” I could tell that she was enjoying the wait, pleased by my hunger for her. Later, as our friends took turns proposing toasts to the newly married couple, I asked her again if we could leave. She shook her head coquettishly, saying, “Our guests, Michael. We mustn’t forget our guests.” Finally, as the waiters were pouring coffee, she leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Now, my darling husband. Take me to our room and make love to me.” My knees were shaking as I stood and took her hand. Trying to be unobtrusive, I led her through the double doors to the elevators. My heart was pounding. I held her and kissed her as the elevator whisked us to the honeymoon suite. Opening the door, I lifted her and carried her inside. “Oh, God,” I said. ”Those ·were the longest two weeks in my life. I never want to go through anything like that again.” Sandy just smiled. “It will be worth it, darling,” she said. “You’ll see.” With that, she stepped back and lifted the skirt and petticoats of her wedding gown, exhibiting the lacy garter belt that held up her stockings. I gasped. She was not wearing panties.

          “I’m yours now,” she said. “Come and take me.” I fell to my knees and pressed my lips to the milky skin at the tops of her thighs. As I kissed and nuzzled, she lowered the skirts so that I was inside the dress with her. Famished, I devoured her sex flesh. The moment my tongue touched her sensitive button, I heard her begin to groan rhythmically. She was coming already. Obviously, my bride was as hungry as I. Without waiting to catch her breath, she stepped away from me as soon as her orgasm was finished and unzipped my fly. Holding my erection tenderly in her loving hand, she bent forward and took it into her mouth, bringing me to climax within seconds. Then she led me to the bed and guided me down onto it. “We’ve finished starving,” she said. “Now the real banquet will begin.”

          She began to dance for me, slowly and tantalizingly stripping off her clothing as she undulated to music playing in her head. The movements of her body were intensely erotic, bringing me to renewed erection almost instantly. When all her garments were removed, she danced naked, making age old gestures with her hips and pelvis that seemed to say, “Fuck me, fuck me.” Her body swayed, arousing us both until we were ready to. begin making love slowly and patiently, time after time, till night turned to day. Sometimes we came singly, one of us passive while the other gave pleasure. Then, immediately, we changed roles so that passive receiver became active giver. Sometimes we came. together, striving in rhythm until the ecstasy of simultaneous orgasms made us fill the air with cries and sobs of satisfied desire. Even after that, we continued making love, moving without stop from one thundering climax to the next.

          Sometime the following morning, we drifted off to sleep. We clutched at each other as if we both feared another separation like the one we had endured. When we woke, we loved again, trying desperately to make up for all we had missed. That evening, we left for a short honeymoon· in the Caribbean. During it, neither of us saw much of anything outside our honeymoon bedchamber, where we spent hours and hours each day and night satisfying our undying appetites. Our wedding night and the days that followed it were filled with the best sex either of us ever had.

          There’s no doubt that the period of sexual starvation prior to our wedding sharpened our desires and honed the cutting edge of our passion. Although we’ve been married for ten years, we haven’t lost any of our sexual hunger. Sometimes, though, when we want to add a special spice to our life, we deliberately starve ourselves for a week or two. We talk about sex but refrain from all sexual contact until a predetermined day. Then we feast, indulging in an erotic banquet that always begins with Sandy’s dance of the veils and never ends until our rapacious cravings are satiated.

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            SEXUAL STARVATION AND EROTIC BANQUETS

            December 3rd, 2015

            One of the traits that characterize a mature person is the ability to delay gratification. An infant empties its bowels whenever it feels the urge. A lion begins feasting as soon as it has killed. An adult human being waits until the time is right, however. When we are hungry, we go to the store for bread. But no matter how famished we feel, we don’t usually eat it until we get all the way home. Even then, we are likely to wait until we have set the table and washed our hands. There are many reasons why we are willing to postpone our pleasures. It may be healthier to wait for the right surroundings. It may be more comfortable or more decorous. It may be important to make efficient use of our energy by getting necessary business out of the way before settling back to relax. We may have to work so that we can afford to play. There are occasions, though, when putting off the good times is a way of enhancing our enjoyment.

            After a three day fast, a saltine cracker can seem like the best meal anyone ever ate. The starvation that sharpened our senses might have been imposed upon us by circumstances beyond our control. We might have been lost in the woods, for example, or suffering from an illness. On the other hand, we might have deliberately done without so that when finally we feasted we would better be able to appreciate the subtle flavors of our simple banquet. Similarly, a bout with sexual starvation can make the erotic encounter that follows it feel like the most satisfying experience ever. Some people discover this by accident, after undergoing forced separation from their lovers. Others make a game of it, deliberately postponing sexual contact to increase their sensual fulfillment. The stories in this blog are told by people who found that the best sex they ever had came after planned periods of abstinence.

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              AWAKENING

              December 3rd, 2015

              I’m all grown up now and I’ve learned a thing or two. But when I got married at the age of twenty-two, I was like a child, as naive and innocent as they come. It’s hard ·to believe that anyone could have lived through the liberated seventies without being exposed to sex, but I did. The problem was that there was no room in my upbringing for anything but religion. My mother says she had a rosary in her hand at the moment of my birth. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was holding it at the moment of my conception, too.

              I went to college, but I came out of it without knowing any more about life than I knew when I went in. I got my whole education from nuns and priests. At one point, I even thought I wanted to be a nun. I met Philip when I was twenty-two. He was thirty-seven. Like me, he was Catholic, but he wasn’t at all religious. His wife had been killed in an automobile accident. About two years after her death, he started dating. By the time I met him, there were lots of women in his life. He had even lived with some of them for a while. It’s always been hard for me to understand why he was interested in me.

              Philip says that my youth and innocence were what appealed ‘to him in the first place. He had never met a girl like me; my virginity was a novelty. Now he claims that he knew all along that a sexual tiger hiding somewhere inside my pristine exterior was just waiting to be released. During the first year of our marriage, though, he must have developed some pretty serious doubts.

              Prior to our wedding night, I had absolutely no sexual experience. Philip knew that, of course. What he didn’t know was that I never even had sexual thoughts. I didn’t think of sex as distasteful; I didn’t think of it at all. I knew how babies were made, but that didn’t seem to have anything to do with me. Philip believed that he would introduce me to sex on our honeymoon, and I would blossom. He assumed that I would immediately find it as wonderful as he did. But that wasn’t.the way it happened. When I was faced with it, I discovered that sex frightened me. I was so inhibited that I wouldn’t even let him see me with my clothes off. On our wedding night, I insisted on undressing in the bathroom and coming to bed in a long, shapeless nightgown.

              had been taught that it was my duty to satisfy my husband’s sexual needs, and I was determined to fulfill that obligation. I actually thought I was doing so by lying on my back, pulling my nightgown up to my waist, closing my eyes tight, and spreading my legs. I drew away when he touched my breasts because I couldn’t understand what that had to do with his sexual needs. I think I held my breath while he thrust frantically inside me. I don’t remember feeling any pain. I don’t remember feeling much of anything. Philip was patient. He was sure that within a short time I would lose my fears and inhibitions. But whenever he tried to make love to me, I lay stiff and tense beneath him, hoping that he would finish quickly. He didn’t complain about it at first, but after several months he began to show his discontent. By the time a year had passed, he was regularly calling me frigid. Vaguely, I believed it was true, that I just wasn’t built to enjoy sex.

              One night, in a desperate effort to arouse me, Philip purchased a porno movie and insisted that I watch it with him. We sat together in our bed. When the opening credits flashed across the screen, I was a little curious about what I would be seeing. But when a couple appeared and removed their clothes, I became uncomfortable. When they started fondling each other’s genitals, I was so embarrassed that I begged Philip to shut it off. He got very angry and refused, complaining that I wasn’t even willing to give it a chance. To embarrass me further, he started rubbing himself. He said that he could give himself a better time than I ever gave him. Humiliated, I ran from the room and sat weeping on the living room couch waiting for the movie to end. I fell asleep before it did.

              When I woke up the next morning, Philip was still angry. Without saying a word to me, he slammed the door behind him as he left for work. I remained on the couch for a while, thinking. I was starting to realize that I had not been fulfilling my duties as a wife, that allowing my husband to stick his penis into me a few nights a week was not enough to satisfy his sexual needs. Something in my girlhood training had been deficient. Mother taught me to cook and do laundry. In school, I learned how to add a column of figures so I could shop intelligently. But nothing had prepared me for sex. I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know what to feel. I didn’t understand what Philip could get out of watching a dirty movie, or why my refusal to watch it made him angry. Perhaps I would understand better if I saw what it was about. Going into the bedroom, I found the memory card on Philip’s nightstand. With trembling fingers, I inserted it into the ipad and sat down on the bed to watch it. When the couple on the screen began removing their clothes, I forced myself to look. It was a little easier now that I was alone. I tried to watch objectively as the woman undressed, even admiring the shape of her body as she revealed it for the camera. When the man began removing his clothes, I gazed in frank curiosity at his physique. In his brief underwear, he was muscular and attractive. When he was nude, and the camera moved in for a close-up, even his penis looked handsome.

              I stared in silent fascination as he and the woman embraced and stroked each other. I could see that they were getting ready to have intercourse. But she didn’t just lie back and spread her legs. She held his penis in her hand, petting it lovingly with a look of obvious pleasure on her face. I had never touched Philip there. Watching the woman on the screen made me wonder if maybe it would feel good to do that. She certainly was enjoying it. I was hypnotized by the movements of her body, too. When I submitted to Philip’s thrusting, I kept perfectly still. But the woman on the screen almost seemed to be dancing. Not only that, she appeared to be the aggressive partner. Placing her hand on the man’s chest, she pushed him back against the bed and mounted him.

              I looked on, dumbfounded, as she straddled him and used her fingers to guide his erection into her opening. Once it was inside, her hips started pumping rhythmically, matching his undulating movements with her own. His hands reached up to squeeze her breasts, and this seemed to increase her enjoyment. She moaned loudly as their bodies ground together. Philip sometimes made sounds like that when we were having intercourse, but I never did.

              By the time the couple on the screen finished making love, there was a strange kind of tingling in my loins and breasts. I was sorry to see the scene end, but another began immediately. This time there was a woman alone. She was lying naked on her back with her legs spread wide, shamelessly displaying herself to the camera. While I watched in shock, she began caressing herself with her hands. When she stroked her breasts, her nipples .became enlarged and hard. Sometimes mine did that too, all on their own. Whenever it happened, I experienced a weird tingle. I wondered whether she felt that same sensation. Astonishingly, the things I was seeing were making me aroused. Since I had never known that feeling before, I was frightened by it. But to make sure the human race would survive, God must have made sexual excitement stronger than fear, even for a Catholic girl.

              At that moment my nipples were so hard that they were actually aching. Curious, I pulled my nightgown off over my head and stared down, comparing my erect buds with those of the woman on the screen. Only half aware of what I was doing, I began stroking my breasts the way she was stroking hers. When she started touching her genitals, I imitated those movements, too. I discovered that I could produce sensations that I never even knew existed. Before the movie ended, I had masturbated for the first time and experienced my first orgasm. It was the most wonderful experience I’d ever had in my life. Although I felt guilty, I couldn’t help trying it again. The second orgasm was even more powerful than the first.

              After that, I masturbated every day while watching portions of the porno movie. I progressed beyond imitation, devising my own techniques for self-gratification. I had orgasms consistently and discovered hidden erotic secrets about myself. Sometimes I wished that Philip could see me this way, that I could perform wantonly for him to demonstrate that I was capable of satisfying his sexual needs. But I was still too inhibited to share my discoveries with Philip. I simply couldn’t imagine doing things like that while anyone, even my husband, was in the same room watching.

              Anyway, he didn’t show any sexual interest in me at all for weeks after the incident. When I tried to kiss him, he pushed me away, a look of frustrated disgust on his face. “What’s the point?” he would mutter. Now that I had found sexual pleasure, I feared that it might be too late. My husband was no longer aroused by me. He didn’t reach for me at night anymore or attempt to make love to me. I worried that he might never want to again. Then one afternoon, I got a crazy idea. Watching a woman masturbate on camera had awakened my interest in sex. Maybe it could restore my husband’s. Maybe Philip would be interested in me again if he saw a tape of me doing the things I had learned to do. The thought of it made me breathless. My inhibitions were beginning to melt.

              I got the videocamera from Philip’s closet and set it on the tripod, pointing it at the bed. Then I lay on the covers and began performing for the camera’s eye. At first I felt somewhat awkward and clumsy. After a while, though, the thought of what I was doing added to the pleasure I was giving myself. My excitement overcame my embarrassment. Afterward, I played back the tape I had made. Watching it aroused me all over again. My blood pounding, I tried to imagine how it would affect Philip. That evening, I didn’t say anything to him about it until he started getting ready for bed. Then, I hit the PLAY button and left the room.

              Nervously, I sat in the living room, knowing that he was watching me do the most private and secret things a woman can do. The idea made me anxious and excited at the same time. After what seemed like an eternity, Philip came into the room. He was naked and there was a gleam in his eye that I had never noticed before. “Sonia,” he said, “I never saw anything so sexy in my life.”

              For the first time, I stared openly at his erection. It was beautiful. How could I have gone so long without wanting to touch it? I reached toward him as he crossed the room. My excitement had been building ever since the day I first watched a couple make love on the television screen. While my husband had been in the other room watching me perform lewdly for him, the excitement had increased. I was ready for him at last. When he stood before me, I stroked his manhood. I wanted him. I ached to feel his hands on me. I longed to guide his penis into my opening with my fingers, as I had seen the woman in the movie do with her lover. I even thought about kissing it. That night, we made love on the couch and then on the living room floor before finding our way into the bedroom to do it again. I rose to heights I never imagined existed and had an orgasm every time. I wasn’t skillful and I wasn’t experienced, but I was willing. My inhibitions were leaving me forever, replaced by the discovery that sex with someone you love is a beautiful gift from God.

              Since then I’ve learned a lot about the art of making love. Philip has learned a few things, too. I guess you might say that we both learn something new every time we lie in each other’s arms. The night when I showed Philip my intimate video was a turning point. Over the years, our sex keeps getting better and better. Like vintage wine, it can only improve with age. But I guess the best sex is yet to come.

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                CAMPING OUT

                December 1st, 2015

                Neal played football when he was in college and still looks it even though he is now thirty-two years old. His rippling muscles and flat abdomen make it obvious that he works at staying in good shape. His straw-colored hair has a way of falling in front of his light brown eyes that makes him appear boyish and uncertain. As a lawyer, however, he is known to be a tough adversary. His wife, Karen, a high school principal, is thirty-three. Neal says the best sex he ever had was on a camping trip he and Karen took on an impulse one weekend .

                I was a pretty good football player in college. And Karen was a cheerleader. She was really something. I guess we both lost interest in sports after college. I stayed in shape, but Karen has gotten a little chunky over the years. Not that it bothers me. I think flesh is sexy. Anyway, this incident happened last year during the World Series. Those games were all anybody around here could talk about. Our friends, our neighbors, my law partners, everyone had baseball fever. Everyone but us, that is. I’m not sure whether it was Karen or me, but one of us got the idea that with everybody else home watching what could be the last game of the Series, it would be· a great weekend fortaking a trip. We decided to go camping-something we do infrequently enough for it to still be an enjoyable novelty. I borrowed a tent from one of my partners, threw the sleeping bags in the trunk of the car, and we headed out of town. We were planning to get in a bit of weekend screwing and were both excited about the idea of sex in a tent.

                We drove for about two-and-a-half hours. As we traveled, we whiled away the time making sex talk. Karen said that she wanted to be sure to find a secluded campsite, because she had big plans for the night. When she started describing the things she was going to do to me, I became painfully excited. That was what she had in mind, of course. She continued teasing me until I felt like I would wet myself. Every now and then, she even reached over and stroked me through my pants to magnify my arousal. Not to be outdone, I began describing the lewdest sex acts I could imagine, until I could tell by the way Karen was breathing that I was getting to her. We rode that way the whole time, kind of having a contest to- see who could create the most erotic images with words. By early afternoon, we were both trembling with sexual excitement and eager to get camped.

                We started looking for campground signs, considering several before we decided to stop. The one we chose was about three miles off the highway on a heavily wooded hillside. The dirt road that led to it was flanked by a riotous array of autumn wildflowers. I stopped the car for a moment and got out to pick a huge feathery pink blossom. When I got back into the car, I stroked Karen’s face with it seductively. Then I touched it to each of her breasts and kissed it before handing it to her. When I drove forward, I knew that she was thinking about sex. And so was I.

                At the entrance to the campground, there was a cabin with a sign on it that said OFFICE. Parking in front, I went inside while Karen waited in the car. In the office, a gray-haired man sat in an easy chair staring at the baseball game on TV. Without looking up at me, he said, “Guess you’re not a baseball fan. Everybody else is home watching the game. You’ve got the place to yourself. Pick any campsite you want and pay me on the way out.”

                ”We have the run of the place,” I told Karen as I got back into the car. Driving slowly around the grounds, we looked for the ideal campsite. Each one was equipped with a picnic table, a water faucet, and a trash can. Even though there weren’t any other people on the grounds, Karen was disturbed that the campsites were so close together. We kept cruising until we found a fiat spot on top of a low hill. It was a little more private, because there was only enough level ground for two sites. We chose one of them, confident that we would have all the solitude we wanted. The borrowed tent came with an instruction sheet, but it took me quite a while to figure it out and set it up. While I was doing so, ‘Karen spread our picnic things on the table and inflated the air mattresses with a foot pump. When we both had finished, we put the air mattresses inside the tent and unrolled our sleeping bags, zipping them together to make a double bag big enough for the two of us.

                We were sitting down at the picnic table to rest after our labors when a car passed the campsite, slowing down as it went by. Karen and I were worried about losing our privacy until the other car drove on. They were obviously inspecting the campground before selecting their spot, just as we had done. A few minutes later, however, the car returned and pulled into the other campsite. I looked around to see whether the rest of the campground had suddenly gotten crowded, but except for the young couple in the car, we were the only people there. Karen and I looked at each other in disbelief. With all of the empty campsites, why did they have to pick this one? Their picnic table was directly across from ours. The way our tent was set up, they would be blocking our view no matter where they pitched theirs. As they got out of their car, Karen whispered, ”Should we move to another spot?” Thinking about how much work it had been to set up the tent, I answered, “They might not be staying. Let’s just wait awhile and see what happens.” ”All right,” Karen said, perhaps a little relieved herself that she wouldn’t have to defiate and reinfiate the mattresses. “But if they don’t leave, promise me we can kill them.” We sat together watching sullenly as the other couple pulled a few things out of their car. They were both in their early twenties, clean cut, slim, and athletic-looking: They all appeared to be a couple of college kids. “Oh, shit,” Karen said. “They’ve got a tent. They must be here to stay.”

                As the young woman unpacked a bag of groceries, her boyfriend began pitching a tent. It consisted of a canvas roof with four walls made of clear mosquito netting-the kind of tent that is usually used as an outdoor dining room. I was relieved. “Don’t worry,” I told Karen. “Nobody sleeps in a tent like that. They’re probably just here for a picnic. They picked this spot because of the view. I’m sure they’ll be gone before dark.” The fellow had the tent up within minutes. By now his girlfriend had finished what she was doing and was sitting on top of the picnic table with her feet on a bench. He sat down beside her and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Isn’t that sweet,” Karen muttered sarcastically.

                I glanced casually up at them and noticed that the light kiss had turned into a passionate liplock. His mouth was pressed hungrily to hers, and his arms were wound tightly around her. I could see his tongue working its way into her mouth to duel with hers. I could even hear the soft moans of their passion. I leaned toward Karen to suggest in a whisper that she take a look at a . the show, but she was one step ahead of me, obviously entranced by the physical display. I nudged her, and she turned her head slightly so that her curious stare would not be noticed. I could tell that she was still watching from the comer of her eye, though. It was doubtful that the young couple would have seen us watching at that point, because their eyes were tightly shut and they were engrossed in each other. I must admit that I found the scene extremely exciting. I know that Karen did; too. My wife moved over next to me and rubbed her body kittenishly against mine.

                As he kissed her, the young man placed his hands on the woman’s chest. He pushed her gently backward until her back . was flat against the table, her feet remaining on the bench. Continuing to kiss her, he began roaming freely over the swell of her bosom with his hands. I know I was openly staring now. The woman made no objection as he cupped her breasts through her sweatshirt, slowly and languidly stroking each one. I could tell from the way the material outlined her nipples that she was not wearing a bra. He kneaded her flesh softly, bringing quiet moans of pleasure· from her throat. . I looked at Karen to make sure that she wasn’t missing the action. Now she too was openly staring, not even attempting a pretext of looking anywhere else. I turned back to the passionate couple, watching them candidly.

                One of his hands moved slowly across her belly toward the waistband of her sweatshirt. As her body began to writhe slowly against the table, he slid his hand inside. Through the blue cloth of the sweatshirt, I could see his fingers closing over . the mound of her firm young breast. My erection was straining against my pants, and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing but stare at the unashamed display of lust. I turned to look at Karen again and saw the expression on her face change suddenly. Quickly, I glanced back at our campsite neighbors just in time to see him pull up her sweat .. shirt, completely exposing her bare breasts. He stroked them lightly, rolling her bright pink nipples between his fingers.

                Then, leaning over her, he began to lick gently at the turgid flesh. I hated to lose sight of her naked bosom, but his head blocked it from view for the moment. Without realizing, I put my arm around Karen’s shoulders, feeling her melt against me. The young man began moving rhythmically from one nipple to the other, letting me see each of them in tum. They were wet with his saliva, glistening in the failing light of early evening. He stopped sucking her breasts and began to nuzzle and kiss her face again. I heard them giggling and whispering to each other, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. They both. glanced in our direction at the same time, catching us an instant before we managed to look away. From the comer of my eye, I saw the woman sit up and adjust her sweatshirt. To my disappointment, she was covering herself. I heard them laugh, and I was sure they were laughing at us.

                The young lovers began puttering around their picnic table, preparing themselves some kind of meal. “Too bad the show’s over,” Karen muttered. “I was beginning to think they were actually going to do it right here and now.” “Well, I don’t know about you,” I said softly, although actually I did, “but I’ve seen enough to get me warmed up. They might not be doing it, but we soon will be. It’s going to be dark soon. And then we’re going to have some fun.” We started getting our own supper together without paying any more attention to the couple. I was sure that they would pack up and leave as soon as they had eaten. Although I wanted privacy, I was a little sorry that we wouldn’t get to see more.

                By the time we finished eating and cleaning up, it was almost dark. Karen helped me store our stuff in the trunk of the car, and then we went into our tent. Since it wasn’t quite tall enough for us to stand up in, we crawled into the sleeping bag and wriggled out of our clothes. I left the tent flaps open so we would be able to look out at the sky and stars. Our uninhibited neighbors had finished their cleaning up, and I fully expected that any minute they would take down their tent and pack up to leave. I was somewhat surprised when, instead, they got a pair of sleeping bags from their car and unrolled them on the floor of their tent. I could just make out their outlines in the moonlight. “Looks like they’re staying,” I whispered to Karen. “Too bad it’s dark, or I’ll bet we’d really see something.” As I spoke, the young man struck a match. In the light of the flickering flame, I could see them both clearly through the transparent walls of their tent. A moment later, the tableau was brightly illuminated. He had lit a lantern and hung it from one of the inside tent poles.

                Karen and I stared wide-eyed as the woman undid the buttons of her boyfriend’s pants and began pushing them down over his hips. He wore no underwear, and his semi-erect cock sprang immediately into view. He stood like that with his jeans halfway down his thighs while she stroked him to total hardness. Then he stepped out of them, drew his shirt off over his head, and posed totally naked. Karen was trying not to show it, but I could see that she was fascinated by the sight of his organ. “It’s big, all right,” I whispered, to let her know that I didn’t mind her looking. “This may tum out to be better than we expected.” I could feel my wife’s hand moving across my thigh, seeking my swollen penis.

                We watched together as the man in the tent drew the woman’s sweatshirt slowly off her. When she was naked from the waist up, she arched her back, thrusting her youthful breasts in our direction. She cupped the pale globes in her hands and lifted them slightly, as if offering them for our enjoyment. ”They know we’re watching,” I whispered to Karen. ”They want us to see them. I’ll bet that’s why they picked this particular campsite.” “Do you really think so, Neal?” my wife asked, incredulous. “Of course,” I answered. “Just watch. If they really wanted privacy, they wouldn’t keep the lantern on. I’ll bet they don’t put it out.” I was right. Without even turning their backs, they moved into each other’s arms and embraced. We could see her breasts pressing flat against his chest, her pink nipples raking his skin. His hands were working on the buttons at the front of her jeans. As they kissed, he undid them and slipped the denim garment down over her hips. She wore nothing now but a wisp of red lace across her loins. The tiny triangle of material framed the white melons of her ass, pulling tight into the valley between them.

                A moment later, he fell to his knees in front of her and pressed his face to her groin, slowly drawing the panties down her shapely legs. Her curling delta of venus was dark and mysterious, clearly visible to our gaze when he drew his face back for a long thorough look of his own. Then he pressed forward again, nuzzling at her sex with his nose and lips. From the expression of bliss that came over her face and the sounds of pleasure that issued from her throat, his tongue must have been probing her slit. I heard Karen’s breathing deepen as she pressed herself against me. Her hand was moving quickly up and down over my throbbing erection, bringing waves of sensation to my entire body. I could feel my wife’s big breasts soft against my naked chest. I could smell the spicy scent of her arousal as we watched the young couple perform in the bright light of their lantern.

                The woman bent her knees slightly to open herself wider, reaching down with both hands to grab him by the hair and pull his face more tightly against her. He held her buttocks in his hands, his fingers digging into the white flesh, kneading and squeezing as he drew her more firmly against him. She began to sob, twisting her face into a mask of passion. “Oh,” we heard her wail. “I’m going to come. Oh, yes, lick me. Oh, suck me. Oh, yes, I’m going to come.” Karen’s fingertips were grazing lightly over the skin of my scrotum and the base of my penis, sending thrills of excitement all through me. She rolled onto her back and pulled me toward her, using my cock as a handle. I mounted her and moved my hips forward as she guided me into her. When we looked across the clearing again, the woman was getting down onto her hands and knees. She was facing away from us, and we could look right into the open plane of her sex, her ass and pussy totally exposed to our hungry eyes. Some of the pubic hair grew back into her crack to frame the winking eye of her anus.

                He stood over her, staring down at her nakedness and stroking himself casually, as if giving us a chance to get a good long look before mounting her. Then, squatting behind her, he held his stiff cock in his fingers and inched toward her. Because of the angle of their bodies, we could see clearly the tip of his erection approaching her open slit. Bending over her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and thrust his hips forward, doglike, to bury himself deep inside her. We could see the end of his penis pressing against the lips of her pussy, . spreading the wet flanges until the opening turned inward to accept him. Then, as we watched, his dick disappeared inside her in one long, slow, sinking stroke. Rhythmically, he moved forward and back, his testicles swinging with each motion. He increased the momentum of his thrusts until his sac struck her white skin every time he drove into her.

                Unconsciously, Karen and I matched their bouncing rhythm. My wife’s back arched and her hips thrust upward to meet my drives. Her legs wrapped tightly around my thighs. Our bodies melted together as we openly stared at the copulating couple. The girl was sobbing and throwing her ass back at her lover. “I’m going to come again,” she cried. “I’m going to come again. Oh, pump your come into me. Fill me up with it. Come with me. Come with me. Come with me.” Her words became a rhythmic chanting song that seemed to carry him to the point of orgasm. “Yes,” he groaned loudly. “I’m going to shoot it to you.” He made a sound like a wild animal caught in a trap and seemed to lose control of his body, bucking and thrusting violently. At that very moment, I felt my own orgasm begin. I looked down at Karen and saw that she was looking back at me. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Neal. I’m ready, too.” As if her words gave me the permission I needed, I immediately began shooting my sperm inside her. Karen stiffened and relaxed, her body sending signals of climax that I had long ago learned to recognize. We got so wrapped up in our own orgasms that for a few moments we completely lost track of the other couple. When we looked at them again, the young woman was lying face down on her sleeping bag with her man on top of her. His cock remained buried inside her, but their bodies were still.

                Karen and I dozed for a while. When we woke up a few hours later, the lantern in the other tent had been turned off, and the night was totally dark. We whispered softly about what we had witnessed until we were both tremendously aroused. Then we made love again. We made love twice more that night, stimulated by our voyeuristic experience. When the sun woke us the following morning, the young couple was gone, leaving no evidence that they had ever been there. The campground remained pretty much deserted the next day, so we decided to stay another night. Several times during the day we slipped into our tent for more sex. Neither of us seemed able to get enough. Neither one of us could get the visions of what we had seen out of our minds.

                To this day we talk about that episode whenever we want to add a little more excitement to our lovemaking. It has given us some pretty good times. But I’d have to say that the best sex we ever had occurred that World Series weekend when we camped and watched.

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                  EXHIBITIONISTS

                  December 1st, 2015

                  Marla is five feet four inches call with long, thick red hair. The freckles covering her face and throat make her look younger than her twenty-six years. Marla teaches yoga at a community college. Her passion for yoga has made her body lithe and supple with a narrow waist that fl.ares out to wide, sensuous hips. She has been living with her boyfriend, Dan, a computer systems analyst, for the past eight months. Marla says her most erotic experience occurred one night when she and Dan were visiting friends. Her saucershaped brown eyes flash with suppressed merriment as she describes it to us.

                  Dan and Tony have been friends for years. Ever since Dan and I started dating, we’ve spent lots of time with Tony and his girlfriend, Celeste. They’re fun people, and we always laugh a lot when we’re together. Tony’s an accountant, and I guess I always expected accountants to be dull. But Tony isn’t. Of course, he’s not just an ordinary accountant. He works for a movie company, and maybe that makes his job kind of glamorous. He usually has all the inside gossip about what’s going on in Hollywood. You know, who’s sleeping with who, that sort of thing. Celeste is terrific, too. Spontaneous and impulsive. Anything to have a good time. She’s never afraid of trying something new. She works as a legal secretary for a big downtown law firm. The two of us hit it off right from the beginning. Anyway, one evening a few months ago, Tony called to invite us over for drinks. We really felt like staying home. Actually, we were planning to go to bed early for some hot sex. Dan didn’t say that to Tony, of course. He just said we were kind of tired.

                  But Tony insisted. He said that he had something for us to see, and it had to be that night. He absolutely wouldn’t take no for an answer. He said he was already popping the cork out of the wine bottle and would be expecting us within a half hour. Before Dan could make any more excuses, Tony just hung up. We always dress casual when we go to Tony and Celeste’s, so we just combed our hair and went as we were. Dan was wearing sweats-a kind of jogging suit, really. I had on jeans and a Western-style shirt with snaps down the front. When we got to Tony’s apartment, Celeste greeted us with hugs. “Come on in,” she invited. “The wine is waiting.” The four of us sat on the sectional sofa around the cocktail table in the living room, chatting and sipping red wine. After a while, Dan said, “So what’s the big surprise? And why did it have to be tonight?”

                  A mischievous smile played over Tony’s face. “Wait till you see what I’ve got,” he said. “You won’t be sorry you came. You think you were fooling me with that bullshit about going to bed early because you were tired? You were going to bed early, all right, but not because you were tired. Screwing! That’s what you had in mind. Don’t try to kid me. But, believe me, you’re going to be glad you stayed up for this.”

                  I was dying of curiosity. “What is it?” I asked eagerly. “What is this all about?” Tony went into the bedroom for a moment and returned with a videotape in his hand. “I’ve got a piece of film here with two of America’s biggest movie stars in some of the hottest sex scenes ever recorded. Some of these scenes were so explicit that they had to be taken out of the film to keep it from getting an X rating. Others are just plain bloopers. It’s a shame, but after tomorrow nobody’s ever going to get to see them. All copies are to be destroyed at nine A.M. in the editing room. I’ve got a friend who smuggled this one out for me, but he made me promise that I wouldn’t make copies and that I’d never tell anyone I’d seen it. I’ve got to return it to him first thing in the morning.”

                  I was intrigued. When Tony dimmed the lights and popped this video on his phone, I stared at the screen. Some numbers flashed across the screen to identify the scene and take. And then it began. I wish I could tell you who the two movie stars were, but Tony made us promise that we never would. He said that if anyone found out he had shown us this film, he and his friend would both lose their jobs and would probably never work in the industry again. I can say this, though. The male star is someone that you’ve probably seen in at least ten movies. And if you haven’t fantasized about being kissed by him, you’re just not a normal red .. blooded woman. The female hasn’t been around quite as long, but you’d recognize her name if you heard it. She’s one of the up and-coming young starlets, and everyone is predicting that she’ll be the sex goddess of the nineties. Some say she’s the new Marilyn Monroe.

                  When the scene opened, the two stars were in bed embracing. Although they were naked, all you could really see was their bare asses. I wondered why this scene had to be removed. I had seen plenty of movies that showed more than that. Then they broke the embrace, and I understood. When he rolled over, his mammoth erection was standing straight up in the air.

                  A voice in the background shouted, “Cut!” but the action continued. This particular actor is known as a macho man, and he sure had the dick to prove it. It was thick and long and looked as hard as a tree trunk. I couldn’t help staring at it. I mean, I’ve probably imagined that thing every time I’ve seen him on the screen. He’s so sexy you can’t help it. And here he was lying back and showing it to the world. I felt myself becoming excited immediately. The actress didn’t react that way, though. She started to laugh explosively, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. You could tell she had totally lost it. She kept laughing, her body flopping hopelessly about on the bed. She was laughing so convulsively that at one point she threw her legs out in both directions, totally exposing her pussy. I could see Dan’s attention focusing on the screen. I couldn’t blame him, of course. It was so exciting to see those movie stars all naked that way.

                  “You can’t show a stiff dick in the movies,” the starlet sputtered between choking laughs. The male star was laughing too, but that didn’t do anything to reduce the size of his hard-on. “You’ll get the whole production company arrested,” she said. “What the hell am I supposed to do about it,” he said, roaring with uninhibited laughter. “I’m in bed with the sexiest woman in Hollywood. Don’t blame me, blame him.” He pointed dramatically at his penis, absolving himself of all responsibility. “Well, we’ll have to do something,” she said, her body shaking with amusement. “Here, I’ll take care of it. Then we can get on with making this film.” With that, she grabbed his penis in her hand and began jerking it vigorously up and down, still laughing. Her actions were making his laughter subside until it became more like a moan. A voice kept shouting ”Cut! Cut!” But no one was cutting anything.

                  The actress continued rubbing his dick, her movements no longer quite as rough. Her rhythm was slower and more in tune to the involuntary gyrations of his hips. He wasn’t laughing at all now. His eyes were closed and his body was rocking. The sight of my film idol getting a handjob was really affecting me. I could feel myself becoming wet in the pants. It must have been arousing Dan too, because he moved over closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders. The big cock on the screen seemed to be growing even bigger, swelling and turning beet red as the stroking became more loving than playful. I was sure that the screen would go black at any minute, but it didn’t. I was glad. I wanted to see more. There’s something exciting about seeing other people make love. And when they’re movie stars, it’s major erotic.

                  I tried to imagine what it was like for the actress to be jerking off that gorgeous hunk. Judging from the expression on her face, she was enjoying it. She was obviously the kind of woman who really got into sex. She was staring at the throbbing erection with the same fascination that I was. As we both watched it, it seemed to rear back, getting ready to buck. The camera zoomed in on the bulbous head just as the first whirling white drop of semen shot out of it. The thick liquid flew from the tip of that movie star’s dick with the power of a shot fired from a cannon. Then it was followed by another. And another. I think that watching a man come is about the most intimate thing you can do. But watching this particular man come was almost too exciting for me to bear.

                  I heard the sound of heavy breathing and realized it was my own. Dan must have heard it too, because he pulled me toward him and patted my breast with his hand, whispering seductively, “Pretty hot, isn’t it?” I felt my nipples growing rock hard against the inside of my bra. To my disappointment, the screen faded to black. Almost immediately, numbers flashed again. “This is the next take of that same scene,” Tony said. “That handjob cost the studio a few thousand bucks. They had to wait an hour before the star was ready to work again, while everybody on the set continued to get paid.”

                  “How many people were on the set?” my curiosity prompted me to ask. The idea intrigued me… Tony, with his accountant’s brain, knew exactly. “With the cameramen, the production staff, and the gofers,” he said, “there were seventeen. Not counting the actors.” “Seventeen,” I echoed. “God, it must have been exciting for the actors to be doing that in front of seventeen people. I can just imagine.” “Exciting?” Celeste said. “I would be too embarrassed to get excited. But I’ll bet it was thrilling to be one of the people watching. Now that’s something I could really get excited about.”

                  On the screen, the second take of the scene began the way it had the first time, with the actor and actress on the bed tightly embracing in the nude. They kissed for a while, and then he slipped his hand between their bodies to fondle one of her breasts. She moved back slightly so that we could see the rounded fullness of her. Her nipple was cherry red and hard. This may have been only a scene in a movie, but that nipple erection was no act. His head dipped to stroke her breasts with his cheek before he took the erect nipple in his mouth. I felt Dan’s thigh pressing mine as he pulled me tight against him. He began stroking my breasts through my shirt with both his hands. I watched the lovers on the screen while I let Dan feel me up. It was so exciting. When I felt the top two snaps of my shirt pop open, I purred. As Dan slipped a hand inside, I felt another snap open. Grabbing the front of my shirt, I pulled sharply, opening the rest of the snaps in a single stroke.

                  The movie star’s mouth was moving from one erect nipple to the other as Dan stroked me through the satin fabric of my bra. I ached for my breasts to be free. I wanted to feel his breath on them. I wanted his tongue to touch and tease them. I wanted to feel what the actress was feeling. With swift fingers, I undid the fastener at the front of my bra and shrugged it open. Dan cupped my breasts in his hands and squeezed them softly. For the moment, we had both forgotten that we were not alone. “Oh, Dan,” I moaned as his :fingers played with my exposed breasts. “Oh, yes. That feels so good.” Tony’s voice brought me back. “Hey, you guys,” he said. “What are you going to do, fuck right here?” I felt a tingling in my pussy. Tony might have been kidding, but his suggestion excited me. Dan started to pull away from my tits, but I covered his hands with mine and held them in place. “That’s a hot idea,” I said softly, looking to Tony and Celeste for a response.

                  Celeste’s breathing was deep and labored, her bosom rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. “I think it’s a hot idea, too,” she said in a voice that trembled with excitement. “Why don’t you go for it, Marla?” “Well, I certainly have no objection,” Tony added, his voice sounding nervously eager. “Now it’s up to Dan,” I said, freeing his hands and leaning back to give him full access to my breasts. My boyfriend hesitated for a split second and then, without a word, fell . forward, taking one of my nipples in his mouth and sucking gently on it.

                  The couple on the screen were fucking now, but we were too involved in our own activity to give them any more attention. As Dan licked my breasts, his hands worked my shirt and bra off over my shoulders and arms. It was exciting to be exposed in front of our friends’ watching eyes. Dan cupped my breasts with his hands as I helped him out of his jogging suit. When he was naked, he stood up, his hard cock pointing straight out in front of him. Then he drew me to my feet and started unbuttoning my jeans. I had a sense of unreality. I couldn’t believe it was happening. He slid the jeans down to where I could step out of them, leaving me clad only in my white cotton panties.

                  Taking my hand, Dan turned me in a complete circle, so that .Tony and Celeste could see every part of me. I could feel their eyes burning my skin, arousing me more than I had ever been aroused before. I was acutely conscious of the triangle of red hair that almost showed through the thin fabric of my panties. I wanted to be completely naked. I wanted nothing hidden. Without waiting for Dan’s next move, I stripped the panties off and tossed them out of the way. I stroked my curling bush and pressed the palm of one hand against my moist slit. “Come on, Dan,” I whispered hoarsely. “I want you to do me while Tony and Celeste watch.” I moved to the couch and lay back on it, slowly parting my legs so that they could look between them. The idea of being on display for the hungry, lustful gaze of our best friends had my juices flowing incredibly.

                  Dan moved slowly toward me, his erection bobbing up and down with each step. His cock was beautiful, but all the eyes in the room, even Celeste’s, were on me. Dan sat on the couch beside me and stared into my slit. Softly, he touched its lips with the fingers of both hands, spreading them to tum my pussy into a blossoming flower. I could feel the stares as his fingertips stroked and petted the moist folds of flesh. I closed my eyes in pleasure and then forced them open again so that I could see the people who were watching me. Celeste had the glazed look of someone in a hypnotic trance. Tony was leaning forward in his seat so that he wouldn’t miss a thing. When Dan slipped one thick finger inside my pussy, I heard Celeste sigh quietly. A moment later, she was sitting on Tony’s lap and kissing him, while her eyes remained open and fastened on me.

                  Dan stroked his finger in and out of me until it was gleaming with the wetness of my sex. My hips moved rhythmically up and down, matching the tempo of his movement. I could hear the slurping noises made by my juices as his finger whipped them to a froth. When I remembered that our friends could hear the same sounds, I got even wetter. Dan slipped a second finger in now, stretching me open wider as if to prepare me for the onslaught of his cock.

                  I kissed Dan’s ear, bathing it with the tip of my tongue, and whispered in a voice loud enough for Celeste and Tony to hear, “I think they like it. Why don’t you fuck me now and really give them something to look at.” With his hands, Dan guided me from the couch to the floor. He stood over me, his feet apart and his back to the watchful couple on the couch. Gracefully, he lowered himself to his knees, shuffling forward an inch at a time until I could feel the heat of his body radiating against my skin. I placed the backs of my ankles on his shoulders as he hunched forward. The tip of his swollen penis was nudging at me now. I wanted to throw myself upward to swallow it in a single thrust, but I knew it would be best if I left everything to Dan’s superb sense of timing. He can stretch out the actual penetration so long that it seems to go on forever.

                  I wanted to scream with hungry desperation. Then I felt the head of his penis spreading my labia as he buried his massive hard-on inside me by slow and steady degrees. I groaned, conscious somewhere in the bottom of my being that our audience was waiting, breathless, for him to drive it into me to the hilt. I always . liked fucking in this position because it made possible the deepest kind of penetration. I groaned again as I felt the mass of him strike against my cervix. Arching my back, I lifted my sex up .to him, silently begging for the last inch of his cock. With a bestial grunt, he rammed forward, giving me his all.

                  I sobbed with emotion as he began fucking in and out of me. as hard as he could with long driving strokes. His forward thrust dragged a groan from my throat, followed an instant later by the groans of Celeste and Tony. Knowing that they were watching us have sex on their living room floor increased my excitement. I never realized before what an exhibitionist I was, or how thrilling it could be to be the center of everyone’s erotic attention. My entire body was bathed in sweat.

                  I groaned. I sighed. I moaned. I went wild. I was like a wild animal, humping vigorously to match the violence of his thrusts. Our excitement was so intense that I knew neither of us would be able to keep this up for very long. Never before had I experienced a passion of such power. I could feel my climax building. I knew Dan well enough to know that his, too, was just an instant away. uoh, Dan,” I wailed. “I’m going to come. Oh, Tony. Oh, Celeste. Watch me. Watch me. Watch me.” That was it; the waiting time was over. Like a dam bursting, my climax over .. took me, drowning all thought, flushing away all contact with reality. For a few moments, I was lost.

                  Dan’s voice brought me back. “I’m coming, too,” he groaned. His ass bucked ferociously as he pumped his semen deep into my tunnel. I felt his hard-on throbbing inside me and I was suddenly aware again of our audience. I moaned for them as much as for myself. Dan and I kept rolling together until our energy ran out. I lowered my legs. With a sigh, Dan slumped forward to come to rest on top of me. We lay that way for a while, Dan with his eyes closed while I watched Tony and Celeste kissing deeply. The TV screen had gone dark. Tony broke the kiss and glanced at us, as if to assure himself that our performance had really ended. He rose to his feet, lifting Celeste into his arms, and said, “We’re going to the privacy of our own bedroom now. But when we close our eyes, you can be sure we’ll be seeing you.” Carrying his girlfriend out of the room, he was gone.

                  Dan and I dressed hurriedly, eager to rush home to make love again. Which we did. Putting on that erotic performance for Tony and Celeste had whipped us up to a pitch of excitement that didn’t subside for weeks. In a way, it never sub.. sided. Dan and I have fantastic sex almost every night. But without a doubt, the best sex we ever had was the night we did it for an audience.

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                    SEEING AND BEING SEEN

                    December 1st, 2015

                    No race of creatures can exist unless it is endowed with a desire for reproduction. In order to strengthen this desire in humans, Nature decorated our reproductive organs with tufts of curling hair and splashes of dramatic color to make them particularly interesting. In addition, our brains were wired with circuits that excite us upon seeing another’s naked body or knowing that another is looking at ours. Humans are not the only animals on Earth that have been blessed in these ways. Baboons wear bright colors to call attention to their genitals. Female goats who want sex wave their tails repeatedly so that the sight of their distended pudenda will attract males. When animals see other animals having intercourse, they may become so aroused that they are driven to a frenzy of violent sexual activity themselves.

                    Prohibitions against public sex are common in human societies. Some analysts claim that these rules exist because of fears that such displays will excite bystanders to the point of uncontrollable eroticism. In addition to disrupting the social order, there is the danger that this will interfere with productivity and promote physical aggression. As a result, we are trained, from the time of our births, to believe that sex should happen only behind closed doors and shuttered windows. We learn to call our sex organs “private parts” and to regard people who display them as perverts or even criminals. We have laws that prohibit the exposure of the breasts and regulate the size and shape of bikinis worn on public beaches.

                    Most people can live comfortably with these rules. For some, however, the desire to see and be seen is a powerful erotic stimulant. When faced with the opportunity to observe others engaging in sex, they seize it without hesitation. When given the occasion to exhibit their own sexuality, they jump at the chance. These experiences are so unusual that those who have known them frequently declare that they were the best sex they ever had.

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