Archive for the ‘Stories’ Category

Higher Education

Tuesday, September 18th, 2018

Jerry, twenty years old, is just under six feet tall and has the lean sinewy body of a long distance runner. His fair complexion gives him a clean-cut all-American look. He keeps his dusty-blond hair short to decrease wind resistance. Jerry lives to run. He is a star on the track team at a small university. Not long ago, his athletic scholarship was in jeopardy when his grades fell. His piercing blue eyes flash as he tells about how that incident led to the best sex he ever had.

To me, the most important thing about college is the track team. I know it doesn’t sound very academic, but let’s face it, I’m not really an academic guy. I’ve been a runner ever since I can remember. When I was a little kid, I would run miles and miles for the thrill of it. In high school, I joined the track team just for fun. It never occurred to me that running might pay off in some way.

By the time I was a junior, I started getting letters from colleges, making me all kinds of offers. I never planned to go to college, but I jumped at the chance to continue running and not have to think about finding a job. Now I’m pretty close to graduating from college and I still haven’t started thinking about a job. Coach says there’s a living to be made in long distance running, but not much of one. My dad says it’s a shame I didn’t pick baseball or basketball or football. Now, that’s where the money is. But I don’t care. Running is my life.

About a year ago, it started to look like I was going to lose everything. I’ve never been much of a student. Let’s face it, I never wanted to be. I’m no brain. No matter how hard I study, I still come out with lousy grades. Coach always says not to worry about it as long as I maintain the mandatory C grade average. For my first couple of quarters, I did keep a C aver age, even though it was by the skin of my teeth.

Then I took math to complete my general ed requirements, and that was almost the end of the line. I really tried. I even got a tutor. But I just couldn’t cut it. Oh, I can add and subtract, but when it comes to algebra and geometry, there’s just nothing I can do. It’s like a foreign language to me.

I flunked it the first time, and they said I’d have to take it again. So I did, but it looked like I was heading for the second F. I knew it was hopeless. The trouble was that all my other grades were borderline, and flunking math again would pull me down below the C average I needed to stay on the team. I went to Coach and told him the problem, but he just said that if I worked a little harder everything would be all right.

I didn’t know what I was going to do. Then on top of all that, I get this letter from Dean Smith telling me to make an appointment to see her as soon as possible. I was scared shitless that she was going to kick me out.

When I went to her office, I was real nervous. But she turned out to be a very nice lady. Even though I never met her before, she greeted me like an old friend. “Hi, Jerry,” she said. “You sure have turned our track team around.”

“Thank you, Dean,” I mumbled. Man, was I uncomfortable about being there.

“Sit down, please,” she invited, gesturing to one of her guest chairs.

“Am I in some trouble, ma’am?” I asked, perching nervously in the seat.

Dean Smith’s warm, feminine laugh made me take a good look at her for the first time. She was maybe fifty years old, but she must really have been a knockout when she was young. For a woman her age, she was still very attractive.

She had short blond hair and great blue eyes that kind of sparkled when she smiled. The thing I noticed most was her body. She was curvy ·in all the right places, and firm, like she took good care of herself. She had real nice tits and a terrific ass, and wore clothes that showed it. Her tight-fitting skirt hugged those buns, and her low-cut silk blouse showed enough cleavage to be distracting. When I caught myself studying her figure, I quickly looked away. The last thing I needed right then was to piss the dean off.

“You’re not in trouble yet,” she said. Her voice was kind of husky and sexy. “But you’ve got to pass math. Coach Riley is a good friend of mine. He tells me our track team hasn’t been this good in twenty years, which, for a lot of reasons, is wonderful for the school. The coach says he can’t afford to lose you So I promised I’d try to help you through it.”

I looked at her in confusion.

“I used to be a math teacher, you know,” she said with a . trace of pride. “In fact, I was chair of the math department before I became dean.”

I couldn’t figure out what she was getting at until she held a package of worksheets out to me and said, “I want you to do your best with the problems in Chapter One of this study packet. Then come back to see me on Thursday right after track practice. And bring the problems with you.”

I couldn’t believe it. The dean was going to tutor me in math. None of my teammates could believe it, either. It just didn’t make sense. Artie, a senior on the team, had a theory. “I’ve heard rumors that the dean likes to screw young jocks,” he said. “Maybe she just wants to get into your pants.” Every body in the locker room laughed and hooted when he said it. The idea was just so ridiculous.

I worked on the math problems and went back to see her on Thursday as she instructed. Her secretary kept me waiting in the outer office for a minute. Then the dean came to get me herself. She led me to her office and gestured toward the couch, closing the door behind us. “Sit down,” she said.

She was wearing a dress with a wide skirt and a plunging neckline. When she sat down on the couch beside m~, she crossed her legs carelessly, causing the skirt to ride high enough to give me a long view of her shapely thighs. For a dean, she was one good-looking woman.

As she slid closer to me, I was aware of the scent of her perfume and the warmth of her leg against mine. “Where are the worksheets I gave you?” she asked. She seemed to be looking into my eyes in a very un-deanlike manner. I got a little flustered.

“I’ve got them right here,” I answered, patting all my pockets before realizing that I was holding them in my hand. “Uh, right here, I mean.” I spread the papers out in my lap.

She laughed musically, touching my shoulder lightly. “Don’t be nervous,” she said. “This won’t hurt a bit. Now, let’s see what you’ve got here.” She took one of the sheets from my lap and held it up in front of her face. “Hmmm,” she murmured, studying my work. “This doesn’t look totally hopeless.” She put the worksheet back on my lap, her hand accidentally brushing across my bare thigh. My skin tingled where she had touched me.

I’ve had some experience with sex. I mean, you know how the girls like athletes. I’ve had my share. But there was something especially sexy about this fifty .. year-old woman. Maybe it was the fact that she was the dean of the college, which made her just about as off-limits as a person can be. I don’t know. Whatever the reason, I realized that I was getting a little turned on just sitting next to her on the couch. When she had touched my leg, my cock stirred. I hoped she hadn’t noticed.

“One mistake you’re making is that you keep inverting the equations,” she said. Or some such bullshit. The truth is I’m not really sure what the hell she was saying, because as she said it, she was pointing to my mistakes on the worksheet resting in my lap.

Each time she tapped her manicured finger against the paper, I felt an electric shock go straight through to my dick, which was right under it. She kept touching the paper to make her point, and I was starting to get embarrassingly stiff. I wanted to move the worksheet away before I got busted, but if I had, my hard-on would have been obvious.

Now she started underlining the equations on the worksheet with her fingertip, drawing imaginary circles around the numbers. Although I was sure she didn’t mean to, she was tickling and stroking my cock. It felt good, even though I was dying of fright. It never occurred to me that she was doing it on purpose.

I noticed that her other hand seemed to be fidgeting with the buttons at the front of her dress, opening and closing them without even seeming to know it. Each time she undid one of the buttons, I got a little glimpse of the smooth white skin of her tittles. I hoped I wasn’t staring, but I just couldn’t look away. When she suddenly took her hand from the buttons, I was sure I’d been busted. Then, to my surprise, she moved her hand to my leg and rested it lightly on my thigh where it was bare below the hem of my shorts.

I was beginning to wonder whether or not she was conscious of what she was doing. She kept talking about the math problems, but her words were totally meaningless to me. As she droned on, the hand that touched my leg seemed to move slightly. At the same moment, she laid her other hand fiat on the worksheet to emphasize some point she was making. By ·now, my cock was at full erection.

”Dean Smith,” I started, thinking I had to find some excuse to break away from there before I got myself in big trouble. She looked right into my eyes. “Yes, Jerry?” she almost cooed. She was openly stroking my leg now, her fingers running lightly up and down the inside of my thigh and stopping every now and then to give it a gentle squeeze. “Do you like the way this feels?”

I couldn’t say anything, but my cock started pulsating uncontrollably. With a swift movement of her hand, she pushed the worksheets from my lap, exposing the front of my shorts where my boner was straining against it. I thought I heard a soft sigh whisk from her throat.

“Nice,” she murmured, closing her hand over the fabric. Her other hand slid boldly inside the leg of my shorts, ‘her fingertips creeping closer and closer to the bulge my nuts . made in the jock I was wearing. Involuntarily, I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes.

I was scared to death, but I couldn’t help surrendering to the wonderful sensations she was giving me with her talented touch. The dean! The dean of the whole fucking college! Here I was on her couch while she rubbed my cock and balls like a horny young co-ed. I didn’t know what to make of it. I decided to just ride with the wave.

“I’ll bet you’ve got a great big strong young cock,” she whispered. “I want to see it.” Her fingers worked at the waistband of my shorts, dragging them down along with my jock. I helped her a little by lifting my ass off the couch. The next thing I knew,. she tossed them to the floor with the worksheets.

My cock was free now, standing up like a flagpole. I could feel her hungry eyes devouring it while her hands worked eagerly to make it even harder and stiffer. She circled the shaft · of my pecker lightly with her thumb and fingers, stroking gently up toward the head and down against the hairy jungle at the base. Her other hand cupped and cradled my balls, treating them like valuable jewels.

She might have been a math teacher and she might have been a dean, but she could have taught a great class in Handjob 101. I’ve had quite a few girls pull my dick, but none with the style and skill of that middle-aged lady. Maybe it comes with experience.

She seemed to know all the places where a cock was especially sensitive. Those she didn’t already know about, she discovered. Her hands were soft and loving, her fingers gliding over the smooth skin of my shaft. She obviously liked what she was doing. Her eyes were glazed and half closed. A seductive smile played around her lips. Her touch sent chills up my spine. It felt like I died and went to heaven.

From the comer of my eye, I happened to see her nameplate on the edge of her desk. It reminded me of where I was and who I was with. I knew that I was playing with, but desire had me by the balls, and as always, it was lust over logic. Besides, in a way it was probably the danger of the situation that made it so exciting. Can you imagine what would happen to a bonehead who got caught with his pants down in the dean’s office?

She continued stroking my cock and balls with one hand, while the other slowly unbuttoned the front of her dress and unhooked her black lace bra. When it opened, her tits popped into view. They were medium .. sized and pointed, with nipples so dark they were practically brown. I wanted to touch them, but I didn’t know if that was allowed. She must have sensed my indecision, because she took my hand in hers and placed it on her tits. Then she went back to rubbing and stroking me.

When I got those boobs in my hands, I almost forgot whose tits I was feeling. They were as 6.rm as a cheerleader’s. I cupped them and stroked them and rolled the erect nipples between my fingers, making her groan with pleasure.

All the time, I was praying silently that her door was locked. If it wasn’t, I hoped nobody would hear the sounds she was making and come in to investigate. This was probably the craziest thing I ever did. But all I could think about was how good it felt. Her hands playing with my cock and my fingers twirling her nipples were sending waves of excited pleasure through both of us at the same time. The thought of who she was and where we were doing it was making me even hotter.

Pressing gently against the back of my head, she pushed my face into the soft flesh of her bosom. At first, I just kept it there, holding her tits against it and inhaling deeply to smell
the sweet perfume of her cleavage. Grabbing my hair, she moved my face until one of her brown nipples was pressed against my lips. It didn’t take me long to get the point. I started sucking and nibbling it, hearing her moans reverberate against the walls of her office.

When I had thoroughly mouthed both of her titties, she pulled back and rose to her feet. I looked up in horror, certain that she had finally regained her senses and was about to call the campus police to have me locked up and the key melted down. Instead, she took a few shuffling steps backward toward her desk, keeping her eyes fastened on my throbbing erection.

Without tearing her glance away from me, she bent forward and reached under the hem of her skirt. For an instant, a fleeting expression of concentration passed across her face. A moment later, she was sliding a wispy pair of black lace panties down over her ankles.

“Come here, Jerry,” she said in a hoarse, husky whisper. As she spoke, she lifted the skirt of her flowing dress dramatically, exposing the blond curling hair of her bush. I could see pink lips peeking out at me. I remember being surprised to see that a dean’s pussy looked just like anybody else’s. I was terrified. But I was so turned on I thought my cock would explode. The combination of fear and sexual excitement was driving me wild.

Perching on the edge of her desk, she raised her skirt around her waist and spread her thighs wantonly. ”Come here and fuck me, Jerry,” she said. Her voice was firm and controlled.

I hesitated for a moment, knowing that once my cock was inside her there would be no turning back. Up until now, we had just been fooling around. She would always be able to tell herself that nothing really happened between us. But if I did what she was demanding, there would be no question about it. Getting fucked leaves no doubts.

”Fuck me,” she said again.

What could I do? It was a command from the dean. I walked slowly toward her, my cock pointing straight at her open pussy. I was nervous, but I wanted her more than I ever wanted any of the girls I had screwed before. With the young girls, it was fun. But with her, it was urgent business.

The thought of doing it with a woman of her age and experience was super exciting. I guess the best part was that she was the dean and she was spreading her legs for me right there in her office. On the other side of the door, they were running a school. But in here, it was serious sex time. I wanted to say something, but I was afraid of breaking the spell. At last I blurted, “Yes, I want to fuck you.”

She groaned and beckoned with her hands. When I stood between her legs, she wrapped them around my waist, drawing me toward her. She leaned back on the desk and closed her eyes as I guided my cock into her opening with my fingers. The thrill as I actually felt it slipping inside her was indescribable. It was like the first time I ever got laid. I just couldn’t believe it was actually happening. But the throbbing sensation in my dick was very real.

I wanted to stretch out the penetration so that each second would be a separate experience for me to remember and gloat over later, but her opening just seemed to swallow me up. Her legs tightened around me as she pulled me all the way into her with a single driving thrust. Her pussy gripped my throbbing cock snugly, holding me prisoner in the velvety depths of her body. I froze for a moment, giving her sex muscles a chance to adjust to my thickness. Then I began to move rhythmically in and out.

The movements of our bodies were perfectly synchronized, but I can’t take credit for that. Her hips and thighs were choreographing the entire fuck. Her pelvis rocked up and down, controlling the way my cock pleasured her inside. With each rolling motion, her tits bobbed erotically.

I had to struggle to keep from popping my load right then and there. I wanted to be sure that she came before I did. I concentrated on the possibility that we might get caught any minute, hoping that the fear would slow me down. But all it did was get me hotter. I knew I was going to lose it. I didn’t know what to do.

Then she started to sob, and I knew that everything was going to be all right. “Oh, you strong young jock,” she moaned. “Oh, fuck me hard with your strong young dick. Oh, give it to me. Oh, yes, yes, yes. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Oh, God, I’m going to come. Oh, yes, I’m going to come.”

At that moment, she stopped being the dean and turned into a sexy she-animal in heat. I knew that she was going to unload her orgasm, and that freed me to let my own come flow. My moans mingled with her cries as I began to pump my spunk into her pussy. Her eyes were tightly shut, and her head was rolling from side to side, telling me that her climax was upon her. I continued driving into her until there was nothing left in me.

By the time my cock softened, it was clear that she was satisfied, too. Her legs relaxed their grip on my waist, and then let go all together. I stepped back. She smiled and stood up, buttoning the front of her dress and slipping back into her panties.

“Thank you, Jerry,” she said. “That was wonderful.” Then the satisfied smile vanished from her face, and she became businesslike once more. “But I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to see each other again.”

I realized that I was being put back in my place. I guess I felt _better about it that way, too. As I was putting my jock and shorts back on, she said, “I’ll talk to Dr. Hoffman. He’s chair of the math department. I’m sure that he can help you pass your course.”

I never have seen her again, not even walking around the campus. It’s just as well, of course. I think about her all the time, though, and about that hot fuck we had on the desk in her office. She was better at sex than any girl I ever had before or since. Maybe it was her experience that made every move seem perfectly planned yet spontaneous at the same time. A lot of it had to do with the situation. Students aren’t supposed to fuck the dean, especially in her office, especially on her desk. All of that played a role in making it so different and exciting.

My dad thought that baseball, football, and basketball were the only sports that would pay off. He’ll never know how wrong he was. There might not be much money in track, but one thing I know for sure: It was my running that got me the best sex I ever had.


Be Sociable, Share!


    Saturday, September 15th, 2018

    Jared is thirty-seven years old, five-foot-nine, and weighs 165. His brown eyes are owlish behind black-framed glasses. Jared and his wife, Carrie, age thirty-two, are CPAs, each employed by a different firm. Jared says that he and Carrie had their best sex ever when they turned a dull party into a make-believe orgy.

    Carrie and I are both on the partnership track at the accounting firms we are with. That means that if we generate enough business and bill enough hours, we get to have our names on the letterhead some day, along with a million others. That makes going to parties and socializing with the right people just as much a part of our profession as giving tax advice. Everyone who goes to these parties is in the same boat as we are. They’d all rather be somewhere else, but it’s important to see and be seen. It’s especially important to look affluent. They say nothing succeeds like success.

    The men all wear Armanis. The women dress in low-cut Chanels. Those high-fashion outfits always offer a banquet of cleavage, and most of the women who wear them just love showing it off. As far as I’m concerned, without cleavage the whole thing would be terminally boring. Naturally, I can’t help but look. Carrie noticed and kidded me about it one night after we came home from a party given by-her firm. “Your eyes must be really tired,” she said. “After all, looking down the fronts of all those dresses is hard work.” “What are you talking about?” I protested, trying to sound innocent. I guess I was a little embarrassed being caught by my wife. “Looking down the front of what dresses?”

    Carrie snorted derisively. “Come on,” she taunted. “If you were any more obvious, someone would have called the Peeping Tom squad. Anyway, with all the flesh on display, I would wonder about the hormones of any male that didn’t look.” When I realized that she didn’t mind my roving eyes, I felt a whole lot more comfortable. “How can you blame me?” I asked. “The party was so dull that the stuff inside those dresses was the only interesting thing I saw all evening. Besides, you can really learn a lot about people that way.” “Really, now,” Carrie said in a doubtful tone. “Arousing, maybe. But what the hell did you learn?” “Oh, you’d be surprised,” I told her. “Did you know, for example, that the office manager of your firm has a little butterfly tattooed on her right breast?”

    Surprised wasn’t a strong enough word. Carrie looked shocked. “You’re kidding,” she sputtered. “Judith has a tattoo? On her boob? I can’t believe it. It’s just too incongruous. She’s so stuffy.” I was beginning to like this. “And Frank Wilson’s wife,” I continued. “You know who I mean. Old Prune face? Would you believe she has the plumpest, hardest nipples you’ve ever seen. And they’re the color of sweet pink bubblegum.”

    “You mean to tell me you get to see nipples!” she exclaimed. “Boy, when you look, you really look.”

    “It’s all in knowing how,” I bragged. “If you pick the right moment to peek-like when they’re leaning forward to get up from the couch or bending over the coffee table for a drink you can see it all. In the course of an evening, I get a bird’s-eye view of maybe two dozen pairs of tits. Not counting yours.” The conversation was starting to get me aroused. Describing to my wife what I had seen and receiving her approval was strangely erotic. I could tell that my confession was having a similar effect on her. Carrie was undoing the buttons at the front of her dress, her face flushed with excitement. As she slipped the garment off her shoulders, her rose-colored nipples showed hard against the filmy material of her transparent bra.

    “I don’t think it’s fair,” she said in a tone of mock petulance. “You get to see all the women’s boobs, but we poor women never get opportunities like that. Too bad men’s fashions aren’t as revealing as women’s. I think I would enjoy parties more if I got a chance to peek at the men’s dicks occasionally.” The hoarse sound of her breathing told me how turned on she was. Stepping behind her, I placed my hands on her shoulders and began stroking lightly over her bare skin with the tips of my fingers. I nuzzled the back of her neck, knowing that this always increased her heat. With practiced touch, I unhooked her bra, letting her ample breasts fall naturally from its confinement.

    I cupped her soft firmness in both my hands. “I’ve seen some of those dicks in the locker room at the club,” I whispered. “Would you like me to tell you about them?” She turned her head to kiss me passionately on the lips. Our tongues touching sensuously, we shuffted toward the bedroom. “Did you ever see Frank Wilson naked?” she asked, a trace of embarrassment in her voice. “Yes,” I murmured. “You’d like looking at him, all right. He works out all the time and has a terrific body. He’s got real big muscles with a dick to match. It’s long and fat, with a huge round head shaped like a mushroom.” To enhance her mounting excitement, I added, “It’s humongous even when it’s flaccid. I can just imagine how big it gets when he’s using it on his prune-faced wife.” “Deirdre. Her name is Deirdre,” Carrie giggled, pulling me down next to her on the bed. “Maybe Deirdre was thinking about her husband’s stiff cock when you caught a glimpse of her nipples. Maybe that’s why they were so big and hard.” Her face took on a pensive look. Then, in a voice almost too soft for” me to hear, she added, “Wouldn’t it be fun if everybody came naked to these parties?” The idea appealed to me. I said, “It would be even more fun if everybody was screwing instead of having those dull conversations.”

    Carrie sighed. The sound was familiar, but I usually didn’t get to hear it except when we were making love. I realized that the .fantasy was igniting her desire. ”Who would you be screwing, Jared?” she asked. “Why, I’d be screwing you, baby,” I answered. “But wouldn’t it be great to do it in a roomful of other people who are also doing it?” Carrie, who had somehow managed to slip out of her dress, seized my hand and pressed it to her crotch. I could feel her heat through the fabric of her panties. I moved my palm in little circles to bring her passion to a boil. When I stroked the damp material that clung to her flesh, I heard her sigh again. “Tell me,” she demanded in an aroused whisper. “Who would we see? What would they be doing?”

    “Well,” I began, my hand still petting her groin, “I’m sure Frank Wilson would be there with Pruneface. I can see them standing together next to the mantel. He’s got a drink in his hand, but she’s got his big dick in both of hers. She’s stroking it slowly, making it harder and harder. Its bulbous head is turning purple. Deirdre’s nipples are erect, the pink points jabbing at his bare chest. As he tips his head back to sip his martini, she drops to her knees and begins gobbling his hard-on.”

    I slipped my finger inside the crotch of my wife’s panties and began sliding the tip up and down the length of her moistening slit. She kissed my ear, running her tongue all around it and taking most of it into her hot mouth. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her get this excited this fast. “Look over there,” I said, gesturing vaguely toward the other side of the room. “Who do you see and what are they doing?” ”I see Judith sprawled naked on the couch,” Carrie began immediately. “Her legs are spread wide open so every detail of her sex is visible to anyone who wants to look. Her husband, Ned, is kissing her butterfly, the one she’s got tattooed on her breast. Her nipples are standing straight out from the front of her tits. They’re bright red, like a pair of bing cherries. He’s sucking on one of them now. Listen, Jared. Can you hear her moans of pleasure?”

    “Sure can,” I answered, helping my wife out of her panties. “And so can Mr. Benjamin, the executive vice-president of your firm. Do you see him? He’s standing next to the couch watching Ned and Judith while stroking his own cock. It’s long and thin, and there’s a little drop of moisture oozing out at the tip. Too bad he’s a bachelor and has to jerk himself off.” “No,” Carrie improvised. “Here comes Michelle, his secretary. She’s always there to take care of his needs. Look. She’s reaching out for his dick. There. She’ll stroke it for him. That leaves his hands free to play with her ass.” “She’s got a cute little ass, too,” I threw in. “To go with her petite figure.” As I spoke, my hands roamed freely over Carrie’s naked body, stopping to tweak her nipples. Our sex talk had made them harder than ever before. I loved it.

    “Tell me about Judith and Ned while I lick you,” I said. “What are they doing now?” I touched my lips to the fountain of my wife’s flowing womanhood. Her hips moved to raise her ass off the bed and press her mound against my face. “There’s a group of naked people standing around them,” Carrie whispered, struggling to breathe evenly as my tongue probed her opening. “All the men have erections, and some of the women are stroking them. All eyes are on Judith and Ned. Judith is on the couch on her knees. She’s bending over one of the sofa arms, waving her naked ass at Ned and the audience. Everyone can see the opening of her sex. “Ned is on his knees behind her. As he moves forward to place the tip of his erection against her open slit, some of the people in the crowd are overcome with passion. I hear groans of pleasure and I’m not sure whether they are coming from Judith or from the people who are watching Ned enter her.” Carrie’s body writhed uncontrollably each time the tip of my tongue found the throbbing button of her clitoris. For a moment she stopped talking, filling the air with the sound of her hoarse gasps. Then she continued in a seductive whisper. “Ned’s got his cock all the way inside his wife,” Carrie said. “You can see his hard-on sliding easily in and out of her, and his balls slap against the backs of her thighs with every thrusting stroke.” I never realized that my wife had such an explicit erotic imagination.

    “The sight is turning everyone on,” she continued. “Other couples are starting to do it, too. The Eastmans are trying to imitate Judith and Ned’s position, only they’re on the floor. Mrs. Eastman is on her hands and knees, and her husband is mounting her from behind. They are facing us and watching what you are doing to me.” The thought of performing for an audience aroused me even more, increasing the heat that coursed through my body as my mouth devoured my wife’s vulva. My cock was so hard that it was starting to ache. I twisted to one side as if to show it to the couple who was ogling us from their position on the floor. “Yes,” Carrie hissed, her imagination in tune with mine. “Mrs. Eastman is staring at your hard-on. She can’t take her eyes off it. I can’t blame her, though. It’s the biggest and best in the room.” Her words· were driving me wild.

    “Mr. Eastman’s eyes are glued to my tits,” she murmured. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m holding them in my hands to show them to him. I’m twisting my nipples with my fingers while your tongue sends chills through my body. Old Eastman is drooling at the sight of us. Now I’m cupping both breasts so he can get a really good look.” I know I wouldn’t like it if anybody but me actually did get to see my wife’s tits, but in fantasy, the idea was tremendously exciting. Taking my face from her heated sex, I said, “Open your legs wide. Let him see everything.” My words were like an electric shock going through Carrie. She moaned in passion and obliged me by parting her thighs to reveal herself to the imaginary eyes that were watching her. Tentatively at first, and then boldly, she began stroking her own sizzling tissues, putting on a hot sex show for the makebelieve couples having sex all around us. Our fantasy game was getting to both of us.

    “Put your cock between my tits,” Carrie suggested. Holding her big breasts in her hands, she beckoned to me, inviting my hard-on to take its place in the cleft of her bosom. I stroked my dick with my hand, imagining that all eyes in the room had focused on us. Then, straddling my wife on my knees, I laid the length of my throbbing erection against the satiny smoothness of her skin. Gently, Carrie pressed her breasts together, engulfing my swollen member in her sensuous flesh. Her nipples were practically touching each other. “-Fuck me,” she murmured. “Fuck my tits.” Carrie didn’t usually talk that way when we made love, but we were on a sexual high that left no room for inhibitions or embarrassment. “Fuck my tits while everybody watches us.”

    I pumped forward and back with my hips, plunging through the sweat-moistened softness of her bosom. My cock was throbbing with excitement, buried deep in the tunnel between her twin peaks. I could almost feel the stares of the other people at the party. With my eyes closed, I saw them coupling in every possible position, on couches, chairs, the carpet, and even leaning against the walls. My field of fantasy vision was filled with cocks and asses and tits and vaginas and triangular patches of curling pubic hair. The fabricated images had become so real to me that the room even seemed to smell of sex. I realized that I was only an instant from spilling my come all over ·my wife’s heaving_ bosom. Rearing back, I pulled myself away to savor the ecstatic moment a little longer. I wanted to be in her. I wanted to feel the warmth and pleasure of· her inner membranes. I wanted everyone to watch as I penetrated my wife’s tight wet pussy. “Spread your legs,” I whispered in her ear. “I’m going to fuck you now. In front of everyone.” With a sigh, Carrie lifted her legs high in the air and pulled them wide apart. “They’re all looking at my pussy,” she panted. “Put your cock in me and fuck me hard. Let them see how good a lover you are.” Her words thrilled me, making my dick pulsate with hungry excitement.

    Holding the base of my erection with my fingers, I guided its tip against her eager opening. Her vulva swallowed me up, its lubricated walls yielding slowly to the insistent pressure of my entry. She sucked me in deeper and deeper, like quicksand dragging its victim toward the center of the earth. At last I felt my pubic bone collide with hers. My eyes were tightly closed. Our orgiastic fantasy was, for now, a total reality. I could hear the sounds of a dozen other people breathing lustfully as they made love all around us. I could feel their watchful gaze on our nude bodies as we cavorted savagely together. Carrie was smashing and thrusting her pelvis hard against mine, meeting each of my potent drives with a burst of sexual energy. “I’m going to come,” she announced, alerting the crowd of onlookers that her completion was fast approaching. ”I’m going to fl.ow like a river,” she screamed, her excitement driving me to the edge of my own frenzied climax. “Oh, come with me,” she commanded. “Yes,” I shouted. “I’m coming “I’m coming inside you. I’m coming now.”

    Her rhythmic gasps made it clear that her orgasm had begun just an instant before mine. I felt my cock pumping spurt after spurt of heated fluid deep into her channel to mingle with her own impassioned love juices. We seemed to come forever. At first, I was acutely aware of the aroused audience watching our climb to fulfillment. Then I lost consciousness of everything but the orgasm itself. It was the strongest and most intense climax I ever experienced. Carrie’s cries of passion said that the same was true for her. After all our sexual energy was spent, we lay tangled in each others arms, exhausted and completely satisfied. When I finally opened my eyes, I was almost surprised to see that we were alone. “Looks like everyone else went home,” I said.

    Carrie giggled. “Wasn’t that the best ever?” she asked languidly. “Absolutely,” I answered. As if reading from a script, we both added simultaneously, “That was the best sex I ever had.” And it was, too. I guess everybody, at some time in his or her life, dreams about going to a sex orgy. I don’t think most people would ever really want to. I know I wouldn’t. But fantasizing about it while making love allowed Carrie and me to experience it without actually doing it.


    Be Sociable, Share!


      Monday, September 3rd, 2018

      Sometimes the business of life can become humdrum. We tend to wake up at the same time every morning and go to bed at the same time every night. We build our lives around our sleep, our work, and our meals. If we ever stop to smell the proverbial roses, we are likely to do so only while waiting for the daily commuter train, or during some unexpected free moment in our scheduled routine. That is probably why almost everybody loves a surprise. Most of us have delightful memories of the special surprises we received as children on our birthdays or at Christmas. Even in our tender years, we appreciated anything sufficiently out of the ordinary to excite us with a break from routine. For many adults, sex becomes part of life’s routine. It is scheduled, like a meal, to follow the eleven o’clock news on Mondays and Saturdays, or to precede the kids’ return from a scout meeting on Wednesday evenings. As a result, it loses some of the sparkle that it had when it was a fresh, new experience.

      Some couples have learned to recapture that sparkle by surprising each other with an occasional gift of sex. For the person who receives such a gift, a childlike feeling of excitement lights up the adult world. For the giver, there is the secret pleasure that comes from planning a surprise and looking forward to that special moment when the secret can be revealed and mutually enjoyed. The element of surprise made a real difference in the lives of both couples described in this blog. They discovered that having sex at unexpected times and in unusual settings put a new vitality in their relationships. The excitement that they felt when surprising or being surprised by a partner carried over to spice up even their routine sexual moments.


      Be Sociable, Share!


        Thursday, August 23rd, 2018

        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.


        Be Sociable, Share!


          Saturday, August 18th, 2018

          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.


          Be Sociable, Share!


            Tuesday, August 14th, 2018

            Christmas begins long before December 25. The excitement starts some time around Thanksgiving, when stores begin putting out their Christmas displays. A day or two later, carols can· be heard in office-building elevators. Soon the nights are illuminated by flashing lights, and families take drives to sections of town where the holiday decorations are particularly elaborate. Well in advance of the big day, we match people to gifts, compiling written or mental lists. We go to malls or out-of the-way shops, where we finger the merchandise while imagining reactions to the purchases we are considering. By December 24, when the wrapped packages find their way under a tree, the excitement has been building for weeks.

            To some, Christmas Eve is interminable and its excitement overwhelming. They try to stay awake long enough to catch Santa dropping in with his bag full of goodies. Others feign sophisticated amusement at their antics but watch the clock’s apparently frozen minute hand in unbearable agony. Imagine how much less fun it would be if we just popped into some government office on Christmas Day for our allotment of presents. Some may complain about waiting, and women may gripe about shopping, but few of us would be willing to give up those torments. If all the preparation was eliminated, inost of the excitement would go with it. No matter how painful it may seem, anticipation has a way of heightening pleasure. The time spent trying to guess what’s in a certain package or envisioning the receiver’s response to it helps increase the joy of giving and receiving. When the exchange actually occurs, everyone’s excitement is so intensified that the wrappings seem more colorful and the ribbons all look brighter.

            Some people have discovered that anticipation has the same effect on sexual experience. The hours or days that they spend planning and thinking about an impending erotic encounter become part of that encounter, stretching its pleasure out over an extended period. When the day or night of passion finally arrives, they feel every touch more acutely, they savor every scent or flavor more appreciatively. The couples in this blog made the best of involuntary separations by indulging in the sweet torment of anticipation, saying that it led to the best sex they ever had.

            FREE LIVE CHAT HERE!

            Be Sociable, Share!

              BALLING ON THE COURT

              Wednesday, August 8th, 2018

              sexy tight white skirt

              Alan is five-foot-ten with a lean athletic body. Without making obvious efforts to do so, he manage5 to maintain a youthful appearance that belies his fifty-one years. His silver hair is carefully styled to cover an expanding bald spot. His green eyes sparkle in a face that is tanned by frequent outdoor activities. Although he holds a Ph.D. in chemistry, Alan works as sales manager for a major pharmaceutical company. He says that the best sex he ever had happened on a tennis court with a woman half his age.

              Barbara and I were married for more than twenty years. Our sex was okay, but never really great. I didn’t mind, because I always had a girl or two on the side. In retrospect, I realize that I was a terrible husband. At some level, my wife always knew I was fooling around with other women, but she closed her eyes to it. Sex was never that important to her, anyway. She was more interested in our affluent lifestyle.

              Everything changed when I got involved with Diane. She’s not much more than half my age, but she’s absolutely the most exciting creature I ever met. When I started going out with her, it was just for sex, as with all the women I dated. Before I knew it, I was head over heels in love with her, or maybe just obsessed with her. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. Once I started seeing her, I didn’t want any other women. That’s what broke up my marriage. As long as my affairs were casual, Barbara never mentioned them. When she found out about Diane, though, she refused to tolerate it. I’m sure Diane’s age was a problem for Barbara, but what bothered her most was the fact that I wasn’t going out with anyone else. That made my relationship with Diane serious. That’s when Barbara filed for divorce. Except for a few financial problems, I didn’t mind the divorce at all. It gave me more time for Diane.

              I think what makes Diane so sexy is that she’s completely uninhibited. When I’m out with her, I never know where or when we’re going to end up doing it. She doesn’t plan ·it. She just has such a spontaneous nature that she is willing to take advantage of whatever situation arises. I love the adventures that we have together. We’ve had sex at the most unusual times and places you can imagine. I guess the best time of all was one night on the tennis court. Actually, tennis has been a kind of background for our entire relationship. The first time I saw her was at the tennis club. I go there a couple of times a week with some guys from work. We’ve been playing doubles together for years. I like tennis because it helps me stay fit, but also because I’m a bit of a dirty old man.

              I love watching the women in their short skirts, especially when they bend over to pick up the balls. Women’s underwear has always had an especially arousing effect on me. I think that’s probably true of most men my age. As we were growing up, there wasn’t any Playboy or Penthouse magazine with pictures of naked women. The best we could do was the Sunday supplement with its ads for bras and panties. I remember looking at those models posed primly in their cotton briefs and jerking off till my elbows were sore. To this day, I get stirred up by the slightest glimpse of a woman’s undies. I realize, of course, that the briefs women wear under their tennis skirts aren’t really underwear at all. They’re just like running shorts, only briefer. In fact, they wear panties underneath them. Nevertheless, when a woman bends over and her skirt rises up to reveal those little tennis bloomers, I can’t help getting aroused. Sometimes I am so distracted that I’m lucky I don’t get hit in the eye with a ball. My tennis buddies all kid me about it, but that doesn’t stop me.

              One afternoon, we were playing when Diane caught my eye. She was serving the ball on the next court, poised on her toes with her arms held high, causing the hem of her skirt to rise dangerously. Only a blind man would have failed to notice her. She was about five-foot-three and wore her dark brown hair long and fl.owing. She had a tight little body, with pointy tits and the sweetest ass I ever saw. Her muscular legs were perfectly proportioned, all shapely curves even in her flat bottomed tennis shoes.

              Her outfit was the standard white, but her skirt was shorter than usual. She must have had it taken up deliberately. I found myself staring openly, waiting for her to bend down so I could steal a peek at what she had on underneath. When it happened, my mouth dropped open. She wasn’t wearing regulation tennis briefs. She had panties on, skimpy white lace panties. They were cut so high that they barely covered her in front and left most of her ass cheeks exposed. When my friends saw what I was looking at, our game came to a temporary halt. For once, they joined me in staring rather than ribbing me about it. Silently, we watched her play. When she bent over, one of the other guys groaned. She must have heard him but acted as if she didn’t. It was obvious that she enjoyed putting on a show.

              After that, we hit the ball around a bit longer, but none of us was interested in keeping score. When she left the court, there didn’t seem to be much point in our staying, so our game ended early. The other guys wanted to stand around and talk about her and her sexy costume, but I had more important things to do. I knew I had to meet her. I showered and dressed in record time so that I could be waiting for her when she came out of the women’s locker room. As soon as she did, I went into action. Falling into step beside her, I said, “You know, I don’t think we’ve ever met before, and I’d like to introduce myself.”

              She smiled. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to get around to me,” she said matter-of-factly. “Sure I’ll have a drink with you.” “I don’t remember asking,” I said, liking her at once. “My memory must be slipping.” “Yes,” she said, her blue eyes flashing. “I have that effect on lots of men.” We rode in my car to a cocktail lounge near the tennis club and spent a couple of hours there getting to know each other. Diane was twenty-seven and an art dealer with a small but expensive uptown gallery. Right up front I told her I was married, but she just laughed. She said that made me safe and she liked that. We arranged to have dinner together the next night.

              When I arrived at her apartment to pick her up, she was dressed and ready, but she invited me in for a drink. As she poured, I looked around her living room. Everything· was expensive. The paintings on the walls all had erotic themes. In one of them, a nude woman was looking in a mirror while caressing her own breasts. Her pose and the expression she was wearing captured my attention. I found myself becoming mildly aroused as I studied it.

              “Do you like that one?” Diane asked, handing me a glass. “Yes,” I said. “It’s very erotic.” “I agree,” she answered softly. “It’s one of my favorites. Every time I look at it, I get turned on.”

              “I’m glad to hear you say that,” I admitted. “Because it has that effect on me, too. I wasn’t sure that was a legitimate response to art.” “Of course it’s legitimate,” she answered. “Did that painting give you an erection?” I ·was a little startled by her directness but not the least displeased. “Yes, I guess it did,” I confessed. “Let me see,” she .said, stepping in front of me and patting the crotch of my pants with the palm of her hand. My penis twitched against her. Swiftly, she pulled zipper and extracted my swelling organ. I was taken completely by surprise.

              She clawed at me, pulling off my clothes and filling her hands with my sexual hardware. Within seconds, she was on her back on the floor with her skirt up and her legs apart, tugging me down on top of her. Without any foreplay, I was in her. I thrust only eight or nine times before I started to come. Her cries began just as mine were subsiding. Afterward, as we rearranged our clothing, I said, “Wow, that was a nice surprise. Most women prefer to do it after dinner.” “Maybe we’ll do it after dinner, too,” she answered. “That depends on how we feel then. But I felt like doing it now.” “Do you always do it whenever you feel like it?” I ask~d. ”I believe in taking advantage of the moment,” she replied. “Carpe diem! Seize the day.”

              In the months that have followed, I found out that she actually lives that philosophy. We have sex at the drop of a hat, any time and any place that the mood strikes her. When we are in bed in her apartment, it might go on for hours. But · when we grab a surprise quickie in some unanticipated situation, the two of us can come and be dressed again within seconds. She never ceases to astound me. That’s probably what makes her so attractive to me. At my age, everything had started to take on the aspect of a routine. Diane has changed all that. With her, nothing is predictable. Sometimes she’ll act in a way which is totally conventional, and a moment later she’ll do something totally unexpected.

              I’d say she’s like a child, except that when it comes to making love, she’s all woman. The result is that since I met Diane, I just don’t have a need for other wo me anymore. I think the best sex we ever had was on the tennis court. We were both working late and had. agreed to meet at the tennis club at nine for a quick game. The club keeps the lights on until ten, so that would give us an hour to play. Lots of other people had the same idea, because when we started, every court was in use. After warming up for a few minutes, we volleyed for the serve. Every now and then I deliberately hit the ball into the fence so that she’d have to bend down to pick it up. By now I knew that Diane always wore lacy panties when playing tennis. That gave the game a whole new dimension for me. Instead of putting my imagination to work on those white nylon bloomers that women usually wear on the court, I got to watch Diane show me her lingerie.

              Fifteen minutes into the game, I was so turned on that I thought I might trip over my hard-on while chasing the balls. Each time Diane stood up after bending over, she looked at me and said something like, “Did you like that?” Once she even kicked the ball against the net so that when she picked it up I could have a close-up view· of her scantily covered bottom. I was just about to serve the ball when everything went dark. Frustrated grumbles could be heard from the other courts, where players were complaining about the interruption of their games. There wasn’t a light to be seen, not even in the clubhouse. A voice shouted, “Power failure, folks. Just stay where you are. We’ll have the lights on again in a few moments.”

              I walked toward the net, cautious until my eyes slowly became accustomed to the dark. When they did, I saw Diane facing me from her side of the net and wearing an impish grin. She was holding her skirt up above her waist. Her panties lay on the court surface next to her. She had removed them in the dark and was showing me her nakedness. I knew it was an invitation. I vaulted the net and put my arms around her. Diane fumbled with the waistband of my shorts, stripping them from me and casting them, with my underwear, into a pile beside her panties. Lifting her skirt again, she began rubbing the hair of her pubis against my swollen erection. “Hey,” I said. “The lights can go on again at any minute. And we’re not the only people here.” Diane lifted herself up to wrap her legs around my waist. “Then we’d better be quick,” she murmured, lowering herself to take me inside her.

              When she began a rhythmic rolling motion with her pelvis, I stopped worrying about the lights and let my dick do the thinking. Her soft wetness enveloped me completely. At that moment, it was all that mattered. I cupped her naked buttocks in my hands to move her up and down the length of my erection. At first, the spontaneity of our union excited me the way it usually does when Diane’s lack of inhibition takes me by surprise. As I drove in and out of her, though, I realized that there was something extra special about this time. If the lights went on, we would be on display. The possibility inflamed us both.

              She was whispering ferocious obscenities in my ear, whipping me up to a sexual frenzy. I thrust hard and deep against her, plunging into the whirlpool of her sex. We were racing to a swift climax, caught up in the moment and not caring about the time. “Come in me,” she commanded. “Come in me now!” Her words sent me spinning into space, and I began spewing immediately. When I started pumping, her orgasm struck. Her thighs pressed tight against me, her contractions matching mine. Together we spiraled, seized violently by a tornado of passion. Within seconds, we reached its summit and began the floating descent that returned us to the world.

              As our mutual climax wound down, Diane’s legs released their grip on my hips. We stood in fevered embrace, her arms still around my neck and my hands still clutching her ass. Our tongues were clashing in afterplay kisses when the lights suddenly went on. I was aware of it at once, even though my eyes were closed. Realizing that I was bare assed, I tried to break the clinch, but Diane held on to me a moment longer. Sure that all the other tennis players were looking at us, I kept my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to face them. When Diane’s arms relaxed, loosening their grasp, I stepped back against the net. I glanced quickly around, but everyone else on the courts seemed to be studiously looking elsewhere. Trying to use Diane as a shield, I hurried into my togs, thrusting her discarded panties into my pocket.

              I couldn’t wait to get off the court and away from the embarrassing situation. Once we were in the car, though, we laughed about it. I recalled the excitement much more than the embarrassment. Diane said she was proud of me, that I had more guts than a kid of twenty. Nobody at the tennis club ever mentioned the incident, so I’ll never know for sure whether anybody saw us or not. To tell you the truth, I don’t really care. Life is for living, and it doesn’t pay to worry about what other people think. To hell with them. Leisurely lovemaking, the kind that goes on all night and builds slowly to a poetic climax, is wonderful. But great experiences don’t all have to be like that. They can take place in a fleeting instant .. Even though it happened in a flash, Diane’s spontaneity made that minute on the tennis court the best sex I ever had.

              I’m still seeing Diane. We might even get married someday. If we feel like it, that . is, and if the moment’s right. In the meantime, I’ve adopted her philosophy: Carpe diem!

              FREE LIVE CHAT HERE!

              Be Sociable, Share!

                WORTH WAITING FOR

                Thursday, August 2nd, 2018

                Steffie is five-foot-ten and twenty two years old. Her blond hair is cut short, but its mannish style does nothing to detract from her sensuous femininity. Her complexion is smooth and fair; her eyes are a soft green. Although she is slender, she requires that she have her military uniforms altered to fit her properly. Steffie is a soldier who works in the public relations division as a writer for the base newsletter. Her husband, Ed, twenty four, is also in the military. Steffie says that the best sex she and Ed ever had was on the night he returned from an assignment in the Middle East.

                I joined the military to get out of my small town. That was two years ago. I was just a kid. After basic, I was assigned to this base and went to work on the newsletter. It was here that I met Ed. He was two years older than I was, and the warmest, handsomest grunt I ever saw. We went out a few times, and then he asked me to marry him. I jumped at the chance. I was a virgin when we got married, and Ed didn’t have much experience himself. We sort of learned about sex together. I was very bashful about lovemaking at first. Ed was patient, but I knew that he hoped I’d become more spontaneous and less inhibited. He was always trying to perform oral sex on me, but I just didn’t feel comfortable about it and wouldn’t let him. Just as we were settling in to our new life together, Ed got the word that he was shipping out. There was talk about the possibility of war in the Persian Gulf, but this was several months before the war actually started. I remember that I was angry when he told me about going, because the idea of running off to war made him excited and enthusiastic even though it meant leaving me behind. But being a Marine, it didn’t take me too long to get used to the idea. After all, that’s our job.

                The night before he left for the Gulf, we were both feeling depressed about not seeing each other again for months. Neither of us talked about the possibility that there might really be a war and that we might never see each other again. I guess we both realized it without mentioning it. When we went to bed, Ed took me in his arms and held my body close to his. We usually wore pajamas, but this night we were both naked. I suppose we expected our last night together to be filled with passion. It didn’t turn out that way, though.

                We both made an effort to get into it but never really pulled it off. We did manage to have sex, but it seemed to end as soon as it started. I had imagined long hours of lovemaking, but I guess our emotions made that impossible. Instead, we spent most of the night talking. Ed left early the next morning. For the first week, his absence didn’t really sink in. I was alone, but it felt as though he was off on a training exercise. After a while, I began to feel very lonely. Every day I wrote him about how things were on the base and how much I missed him. Once in a while he wrote me a few lines. I never expected more than that because Ed’s not much of a writer.

                Some of my friends told me that I was beginning to wear my loneliness on my face where everybody could see it. I didn’t pay attention to them until one afternoon when I was eating lunch and Tom slipped into an empty chair at my table. As editor of the base newsletter, Tom was my supervisor. He had always been known as a woman chaser, but lately he had become even more flirtatious. Everyone said that with so many of the men away in the Gulf, Tom was making out with dozens of lonely women. He was more successful than he had ever been before. “Hi, Steffie,” Tom said. “You look like you’re hurting; and I’ll bet I know what the problem is.” Before I had a chance to say anything, he put his arm across my shoulders and added, “You’re not getting enough sex. That would make any girl feel lousy. And to a sexy woman like you, it must be absolute hell.”

                Even though Tom’s touch felt good, I gently took his hand and removed his arm from around me. “I’ll manage,” I said. “Why should you?” Tom asked with an air of mock concern. “You’re a healthy young woman. That thing between your legs is going to dry up if you don’t use it. And if you think you feel bad now, wait till that happens.” I knew that Tom was putting the make on me, but he had a way of speaking that made it hard for me to get angry with him. I found him more amusing than offensive. “I’ll manage,” I said again. “Look,” he said. “There are two things you can do about it. You can get yourself a vibrator, which is better than nothing, I suppose. Or you can have the real thing.” “And what would that be?” I asked, already knowing what his answer would be.

                “Baby,” he said. “You give me a chance, and I’ll make you the most satisfied woman on earth. I’ll stroke you and pet you all over until you’re so wet and hot that you can’t stand it anymore. But, don’t worry, I won’t make you beg. My timing is absolutely perfect. The instant you’re ready, I’ll ram my nine-incher so deep into you that you won’t ever want the war to end.” “The war hasn’t even started yet, Tom,” I said. “And thanks for the offer, but I’m really not that desperate.” ”That’s okay,” Tom answered with a wink as he rose from the table. “You know where to reach me if you do get desperate enough. In the meantime, you’d better think about getting that vibrator.” I chuckled, but Tom’s words had a discomforting effect on me. Later, as I sat working at my desk, I thought about how good it would feel to have a nine-incher deep inside me. But the only man I was interested in was Ed, and he was thousands of miles away. That night as I lay in bed alone, I imagined making love to Ed. The tingling itch of unsatisfied desire kept me tossing and turning until the sun came up.

                About a week later, I decided to buy a vibrator. I had never actually seen one, and I wasn’t sure of how it was supposed to be used. I remembered once seeing an ad for vibrators in one of Ed’s magazines, and so I started turning pages. The magazine was filled with pictures of pretty girls in the nude. I knew that Ed sometimes got aroused looking at these pictures and, in the condition I was in, I even found myself becoming aroused. By the time I located the vibrator ad, I wanted to have it immediately. I called the 800 number and gave the woman at the other end my credit-card information. At her suggestion, I agreed to pay extra for next-day delivery. The following day when I saw the express package in my mailbox, I grabbed it and carried it into my apartment with a feeling of mixed excitement and uncertainty. I stared at the package for a moment, wondering what to do with it. Then I tore it open.

                The vibrator was shaped like an erect penis and was covered with soft pink latex that was warm and smooth to the touch. I couldn’t get over how real it looked and felt. It reminded me so much of Eddie’s that I was getting excited just holding it. Feeling a rush of heat enveloping my loins, I went into the bedroom, undressed, and lay down on the bed. Believe it or not, I had never masturbated before. I had never even touched myself down . there except when I was using the bathroom or bathing. I felt awkward holding the vibrator in my hand. The only thing I could think of doing with it was putting it inside me as though it were Eddie’s penis. I was wet, and the vibrator slid in easily. It felt so good going in that it made me remember how long it had been since I was with Eddie. Clumsily, I began moving it in and out, trying to imitate the motions of intercourse. I felt my excitement building. Then I remembered that it was supposed to vibrate. I felt around with my fingertip until I found a little switch at its base. When I flipped it on, it began to hum, and the vibrations intensified the erotic sensation.

                I continued prodding myself with the humming instrument, sliding it in and out of me. I was shocked at how quickly it brought me to the edge of orgasm. It felt too good to come to an end. Hoping to prolong the delightful tingling, I pulled the vibrator out of me and began stroking it lightly around the moist lips of my opening. It seemed that the closer I brought it to the top of my slit, the better it felt. Suddenly, I bumped it against the little button that nestled among the folds of flesh, and I shuddered. I knew about the clit, of course. I had always known that it was there and I had always been aware that it was extremely sensitive. But I don’t think it had ever been stimulated directly before. When the vibrator touched it, it seemed to swell like a balloon, and I was overwhelmed with an intense rush. Gently I placed the vibrating tip against it.

                I felt that I couldn’t catch my breath. I was overpowered with a sense of extreme heat. When it happened, I came so hard that I think I must have screamed. I squeezed my eyes shut, but there were bright lights flashing inside the lids. As my orgasm reached a peak, I found myself imagining Ed’s tongue stroking my clit.

                Afterward, as I lay naked on the bed, I thought regretfully about all the times that Ed wanted to lick me and I wouldn’t let him. Although it was just a mechanical device, the vibrator had introduced me to the wonderfully sensitive response built in to my little love button. It was obvious that a warm, wet, human tongue stroking and sucking on it would feel even better. How ironic that I had discovered this new pleasure while Ed was away and unable to enjoy it with me. I resolved to share my erotic delight with him through letters. The next day at lunch I told my secret to Judy, the newsletter’s photographer. Judy was my very best friend and confidante. When I described the vibrator to her, she giggled. “I’ve been using one for a long time,” she said. “I’m not as lucky as you. I’m not married. I got my vibrator years ago.”

                I told Judy that I wanted to write a letter to Ed telling him about my new discovery. I wanted to make the letter sexy so that it would get Ed real horny. Judy grinned impishly. ”Why don’t you put in a few photos of yourself?” she asked slyly. “Naked, I mean. Let him see what he’s missing.” · I thought of the pictures of nude women I had seen while looking for the vibrator ad. “Well, I don’t know,” I said. “He can see much prettier girls than me in magazines. I’d be willing to send him pictures of me, but I’d want them to be different. Special.” Judy grinned again. “How about some pictures of you playing with your new toy?” she suggested. “That ought to tum him on.” I felt my pulse quicken. “Now, that’s a great idea,” I said. Then my face fell. “But how would I take pictures like that?” “That’s what .friends are for,” Judy answered. “I’ll take them for you.”

                The idea was exciting but embarrassing at the same time. Until the previous night, I had never even touched myself, and now I was thinking about posing lewdly with a vibrator in front of Judy and her camera. Oh, but what one does for love.

                That evening, Judy came home with me and set up her equipment in my bedroom. She began taking pictures of me while, I was undressing. As I think back on it, I realize that it was really a lot of fun. And a very sexy experience. I took off one garment at a time, posing in my bra and panties, and then just in my panties. When Judy told me to remove them, I hesitated for a moment.

                Although I had often taken showers in the presence of other women, it felt weird to be deliberately exposing my pussy that way while Judy watched and took pictures. I was acutely conscious of my curling blond pubic hair and the swollen pink lips of my sex. When Judy directed me to lie back on the bed and spread my thighs, I blushingly obeyed her. She continued to snap photos of my nakedness from every possible angle. Then she said, “Now the vibrator shots.” As the camera clicked away, I followed Judy’s instructions, touching my erect nipple with it, inserting the artificial penis inside me, and stroking my outer lips and clit with it. The next day when Judy presented me with the prints, I was shocked. The photos were the sexiest I had ever seen. Too dirty even for a magazine. “Boy,” I thought. “Will these pictures ever tum Eddie on.”

                That night, I wrote Eddie a long, hot letter. Instead of including the usual chitchat about life on the base, I went right into a description of what I would want him to do if he were there with me right then. I said that I wished he could be in the room with me watching as I got undressed, then touching and stroking me all over my naked body. I enclosed some of the photos that Judy had taken while I was removing my clothes, creating a series that began with me in full uniform and ended with me wearing nothing but panties pulled about halfway down my legs.

                A few days later, I wrote Eddie another letter filled with even more explicit descriptions. I accompanied this one with photos of me lying naked on the bed with my legs spread wide so that he could see every detail of my pussy. I said that I could imagine him putting his fingers in me and even kissing me down there with his hot mouth. I realized that the letter and photos might be seen by military censors, but by now I had become so horny that somehow the idea aroused me even more. I got so excited by the thought of Eddie kissing my pussy that as soon as I was finished writing, I rushed into the bedroom and went to bed with my vibrator. As I slid it around the mouth of my sex and slipped it slowly and teasingly inside me, I thought about Eddie and about the nights of passion that we would have when he came home. I was so aroused by these thoughts that my flesh was soon throbbing to the rhythms of climax. When it was done, I reread my letter and found myself becoming aroused all over again by descriptions of the pleasures that lay ahead.

                In my next love letter I enclosed the last of the lewd photos. In some of these, the pink vibrator was driven deep into me. In others, I was holding its tip against the swollen nub of my clit. I knew that the sight would inflame Eddie’s passion, no matter where he was and no matter what was happening. It certainly inflamed mine. In the letter itself, I said that I longed to feel Eddie’s tongue licking my clit and probing inside me. I could just imagine Eddie’s face as he read my descriptions of his mouth against my pussy, of his lips and tongue nibbling my sensitive membranes- things I never used to let him do. I could imagine his excitement as he looked at the pictures of me doing lewd and lustful things to myself while I awaited his return.

                This kind of writing was quite unlike me. But my longing and wanting for him was driving me to do things I had never done before. My dreams about the joys we would have when he got home turned me into a creature of lust, ‘burying my embarrassment where it couldn’t interfere with our desire. Anticipating the nights of delight that lay ahead of us kept me going as I waited for his return. I hoped it would have the same effect on him.

                I wrote to him regularly, describing the things we would do together and referring to the photos, which I hoped he was carrying with him day and night. He wrote to me also, making clumsy but endearing attempts to duplicate my erotic descriptions. Even though his words were frequently misspelled and often misused, the crudeness of his images was brutally exciting and increased the ardor of my anticipation. When war broke out, I knew that the mail wasn’t getting through consistently, but I kept writing. I felt that my letters would keep him safe. Somehow I thought that his expectations would give him a stronger reason to survive combat, and I was sure that the erotic images that my words and pictures conjured would keep him alert and on his toes.

                Finally, just a few months after it began, the war ended. At first I was disappointed by the news that it might still be several months before all the troops returned. As it turned out, however, Eddie’s group was one of the first to come home because it had been one of the first to be shipped out. · At last I got the word that they would be home within a week. A few days later Tom told me that Eddie would be arriving that very night. When he said I could leave early to go home and get ready, I practically_ flew from the base to my apartment.

                I ran into the bedroom, stripped off my uniform, and jumped into the shower. After drying myself with a towel, I applied perfume all over my body, making sure to use a little extra between my breasts and on my curling sex hair. I put on a sexy pair of brief pink bikini panties and a matching bra that was not much more than a wisp of soft fabric that did little to hold my heavy breasts in place. My heart beating with anticipation, I slipped into jeans and a sweater so tight that my erect nipples could be seen straining against it. All I could think about was getting my hands on Ed. When I arrived at the base airport, a large crowd of people was already waiting for the air transport. Although I knew lots of the other women who were there, we hardly spoke to one another. I was in my own of sexual anticipation. As I look back on it, I guess most of the others were thinking the same sort of things I was. We had all been without our men for months.

                I don’t remember much about the landing or Eddie’s arrival. All I know is that the moment he got off the plane, he swept me up in his arms and we rushed back to our apartment. When we got inside, Eddie kissed me hard on the lips while he unzipped my pants. Within seconds, my sweater and jeans lay in a heap, and his fingers were working at the snaps of my bra. When it was off, we both fell to the floor. He struggled for a moment with my panties before ripping them off in a desperation of hunger. “Oh, those letters,” he whispered. “And the pictures. I haven’t been able to think of anything else for months.” I felt his thick penis bumping at my pussy as he thrust forward like an animal. I was about to guide him in with my hands when he found the mark unassisted. In a flash, his big organ was inside me, driving in to the hilt and filling me with passion. I moaned without inhibition as he rode in and out of me. He was so hungry, he came at once.

                We lay together embracing each other as he panted and strained to catch his breath. “I missed you so much,” he murmured, his lips nuzzling my ear. “I’m so glad to be here with you like this. I want to make love to you until the world ends.” He began kissing my lips passionately, his tongue stroking my teeth. My desire increased as he slowly nibbled and kissed my throat, working his way toward the tops of my heaving breasts. My nipples were so erect that they ached as he took first one and then the other in his mouth, licking gently at first and then sucking harder. He kissed circles around my pink aureoles, licking the curves of my breasts until I was tingling all over. Then, slowly, he began trailing his tongue across my stomach, dipping lightly into the crater of my navel. The juices of my sex were flowing freely.

                “I thought of nothing but this,” I heard him murmur as he nibbled his way down through my tangled nest of pubic hair. Then I felt the first contact of his tongue with my clit. It was like a wonderful electric shock, causing my whole body. to jerk with sweet anticipation. He licked slowly, tracing little figure eights around the erect button. Occasionally, just when I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore, he dipped lower, stroking the lips of my opening. with the flat of his tongue and tasting the spicy juices of my arousal. Then he returned to my clit, sucking hungrily at it. It was everything I had imagined and more. I had anticipated this very moment, and now it was upon me.

                I felt myself building to the greatest climax of my life. It was exquisite. It was magnificent. It was more intense than the vibrator and more exciting than anything I had ever hoped for. I started to sob as the sweet waves of pleasure began to roll through my groin. “Oh, Eddie,” I cried. “Oh, Eddie. Yes. Yes. Oh, Eddie, I love you.” The orgasm was beginning now, and my pelvis was rocking wildly. My back arched as I raised my hips, pressing my sex even tighter against his mouth and tongue. I lost all consciousness, surrendering to pure pleasure. I had never experienced anything like this before. It was stupendous. I floated on a cloud until all my passion was used up. Then I just lay there, basking in the glow.

                Eddie lay beside me, holding me in his arms. Then, rising from the floor, he lifted me and carried me to the bedroom, where he placed me gently on the bed. “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long,” he said, “that I had to begin by relieving the pressure. Now we can take our time and really make love.” · I felt him growing hard again as he pressed himself tightly against me, and I knew our night of love was just beginning. The months that we had spent imagining and anticipating our reunion had prepared us for total excitement and complete ecstasy. We had missed each other terribly, and neither of us would ever want to go through a period of separation like that again. But the night of Eddie’s return gave us both the best sex we ever had.

                FREE LIVE CHAT HERE!

                Be Sociable, Share!

                  MAKING BELIEVE

                  Monday, July 16th, 2018

                  Wouldn’t it be nice if there were magic carpets that could take us anywhere and allow us to do anything? In fact, every one of us has one: the imagination. For a person who is not afraid or ashamed to use it, imagination is a vehicle that can travel to places that are otherwise inaccessible. Our imaginations begin to work almost as soon as we are born, providing us with nonstop fantasies that play continuously in some hidden recess of our minds. As children, most of us acted out these fantasies in games we called “house,” “school,” or “cowboys.” When we wanted to do things that we were too young to actually do, we pretended or made believe.

                  In addition to entertaining us, these games served as important parts of our education, preparing us for the experiences of life by giving us an opportunity to preview them. Of course, our games of “house” never involved mortgage payments, we never flunked math when playing “school,” and when other “cowboys” shot us we never died for long. That was the best thing about making believe. Things never happened unless we wanted them to. Some people believe that adults should never lose sight of reality, that pretending is only for children. These people are missing lots of fun. Others know that games of make-believe don’t have to stop when childhood ends. They play “paint ball” or attend murder-mystery dinner theaters, simulating experiences in which no danger is deadly and all endings are happy ones.

                  The couples in this blog learned to apply this technique to their sex lives. They say that they had their best sex ever when pretending to be in places and situations that fascinated them but in which they would never really want to find themselves. They permitted their imaginations to weave tapestries of fantasy and make-believe, which they rode like magic carpets to fabulous destinations. Perhaps their stories will give you the inspiration to climb onto your own magic carpet some night or afternoon and let your imagination take you on an erotic journey of your own.

                  FREE LIVE CHAT HERE!

                  Be Sociable, Share!


                    Friday, July 6th, 2018

                    At thirty, Lou is the owner of his own bicycle shop, having parlayed a college sport into an occupation. He is five-foot-eight, with a lithe and muscular bod, that gives the impression, an accurate one, of great strength. His eyes are brown and his sandy hair is fashionably styled. Lou looks up from a wheel that he is straightening to tell us about his most erotic experience.

                    Tracy and I practically grew up together. Her family moved into the house next door to mine when we were in the fifth grade. She was a cutie at the age of eleven, built like a boy but wearing frilly girl clothes. My mom said that it would be nice if I walked her to school on her first day and introduced her to the other kids. So I did. After that, we became the best of friends. Tracy and I were in the same class throughout grammar school and junior high school. Most of the guys I knew had other guys for best friends, and most of the girls had other girls. But Tracy and I had each other. We did everything together. We studied together, we joined the same clubs at school, we were even co-stars in the school play.

                    When we weren’t with each other, we would talk on the telephone for hours. We told each other everything. I remember when Tracy had her first period. She told me before she even told her mother. Tracy started going out with boys and I started going out with girls when we were in high school. Naturally, we told each other all about our dates in explicit detail. At first the conversations were about where we went, with whom, what we did, what movies we saw. As we began to discover sex, we talked about that, too.

                    I remember telling Tracy about the first time a girl let me touch her breasts. I was so excited, I thought I had finally arrived at the gates of heaven. Tracy knew the girl. “Ooh, she’s got big ones,” she said. “I wish I had boobs that size. Did she let you put your hand inside her bra?” Somehow it seemed perfectly natural for her to be asking me questions like that, and I was completely comfortable answering them. I told her how exciting it was to feel the girl’s nipples get hard when I touched them and how I was hoping that on the next date I would be able to see them, maybe even suck on them.

                    “Last night I went out with Bobby,” she said. “And he wanted to feel my titties.” “Did you let him?” I asked, breathless with curiosity. “No,” she said, adding thoughtfully, “but I think I will at the drive-in tomorrow night. After all, I don’t want you getting too far ahead of me.” A couple of years later, Tracy told me that she finally had sexual intercourse. We were juniors in high school. She had been dating a college sophomore. She said he made her feel that if she didn’t do it with him it would mean that she was still a child. She confessed that the actual screwing didn’t feel all that good because it was over so fast, but the best part was when he licked her right before getting on top of her.

                    I was fascinated. I had heard of girls giving guys blowjobs, but it never occurred to me that a guy might do the same thing to a girl. After Tracy described how good it felt when he put his tongue inside her and all around her opening, I was dying to try it myself. There was a girl named Ginger that all the guys said would do it with anybody. As soon as I got off the phone with Tracy, I called Ginger and asked her out. She said that her parents were away for the evening and invited me to come to her house. I practically ran. . The minute I knocked, Ginger pulled the door open and began kissing me. Within minutes we were both naked, and Ginger was lying back on the couch with her legs spread wide. I just stood there staring, my eyes riveted to her crotch. I was mesmerized by the delicate pink slit with its thick pouting lips nestling in the midst of that hairy jungle.

                    Falling to my knees beside the couch, I clumsily started kissing and licking her moist tissues. I was a real klutz, unsure of my movements, afraid that my lack of experience would sh’ow. After a few minutes, though, I started to experiment, discovering ways to make Ginger groan and sigh. Strange as it seemed, I found myself imagining that I was with Tracy. Eventually, I mounted Ginger and thrust myself inside her. My first experience at intercourse was a lot like Tracy’s. It was over too fast for me to feel anything. When we were done, all I really wanted to do was rush off and get to a phone so I could tell Tracy about it. Tracy had a million and one questions. What did it taste like? What did it feel like? How did Ginger act while I was doing it? I described the whole episode to Tracy. I think that my conversation with her actually turned out to be more exciting than the things I had done with Ginger.

                    After high school, Tracy and I went away to colleges at different ends of the country. Even though we couldn’t afford to talk on the phone as much as we used to, we stayed in touch by card and letter. We remained as close as ever, continuing to share our experiences. I called her a few weeks before our first Christmas vacation, and we talked for a while about our classes and that sort of thing. As usual, the conversation turned to more intimate matters. I started telling her about a girl I had been seeing, but when I got to the sex part, I found myself becoming uncomfortable. I just couldn’t bring myself to discuss the explicit details the way I always had. And Tracy didn’t seem to be asking her usual questions. When she told me about a guy she was dating, she seemed to be selecting her words rather carefully. It was obvious that she had been to bed with him, but she wasn’t saying much about it, and I wasn’t asking. In fact, without even thinking, I mumbled something about a paper that was due the next morning and hurried off the phone.

                    That night I just couldn’t get to sleep. I lay in bed for hours, thinking about our conversation. I was imagining Tracy with another guy. I could see them in bed together, naked, rolling in each other’s arms. The images were so horrible that they made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t understand why I was feeling this way. It wasn’t until the morning light began creeping through my window that I realized I was jealous. The reason I was jealous was that I was in love with Tracy. Suddenly, I understood that I had been in love with her ever since we were eleven. I was too dumb, too stupid, too blind to recognize it until now. I felt like I had been struck between the eyes with a sledgehammer. I was stunned. At first I didn’t know what to do about it. Tracy was my best friend. I always told her everything. I wanted to call her immediately and tell her about my discovery, but I was afraid. If she didn’t feel the same way, would this be the end of our friendship?

                    It was risky, but I had no choice. Now that the feeling was out, I’d never be able to contain it. It was only six A.M., but l reached for the phone. Tracy answered on the first ring. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Did I wake you?” “No,” she replied with no trace of sleep in her voice. “I’ve been up all night.”

                    “Me, too,” I said. Then, taking a deep breath, I blurted out everything I was feeling. Frightened of what she might say, I kept talking as fast as I could until I had to stop for a breath. When I did, I heard Tracy laughing. “I love you, too,” she said at last. “Why did it take us “this long to figure it out? Are we the stupidest people in the world, or what?” We must have talked for an hour, babbling on about our feelings for each other. I never felt better in my life. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the whole world was wonderful. We spoke on the phone again that night. And the next night. And the night after that. All we could think about was Christmas vacation, less than three weeks away. We were both going home and we would be together at last. In one of our conversations, Tracy said, “Do you realize we’ve known each other since we were kids and we’ve never even kissed?”

                    When she said it, something suddenly dawned on me. Ever since the morning when I discovered how I felt about her, my head had been in the clouds. I had been thinking abstractly, my mind filled with rosy thoughts of love and eternity. The concept was so new that sharing these thoughts seemed like an end in itself. But Tracy’s words brought me back to earth. In a few weeks I would be seeing her, holding her, kissing her. We would be making love. The thought excited me more than anything ever had before. “Tracy,” I murmured. “I can’t wait to feel my lips against yours. I can’t wait to taste your breath.” ”I want to feel your hands on my body,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement.

                    For a few moments, we were silent, both of us imagining the things we would discover together. Then, in a tentative whisper, Tracy said, “Lou, tell me what you’re going to do to me.” I remembered our high school conversation about the night she lost her virginity. I remembered how disappointed she was that it was over so quickly and how excited it made her to talk about oral sex. “I’m going to take my time,” I said. “I’m going to lick you until you beg me to stop.” Her soft sensual sigh induced me to go on. “I want to put my tongue inside you and slowly explore you with my mouth. I’ll kiss and nibble your most sensitive places while you tell me the parts you like best. I want you to teach me how to please you like no body ever has.” “Yes,” she said. “I want us to do things together that neither one of us has ever done before.” The next night we talked about oral sex again. Nervously, I admitted that I had never tried sixty-nine. I was fearful that she would tell me that she had done it with someone else and that, if she did, my jealousy would be overwhelming. I was relieved when she said, “You mean both of us doing it at the same time. Oooh, I’ve always wanted to try that.”

                    We talked about it for hours, imagining together how it would feel when we finally got to do it. I described the position I had always fantasized about. I would lie on my back while she straddled me above. Her knees would be on either side of my head; her face would hover over my groin. She would lower herself slowly so that my mouth came into contact with her sex at the same moment that her mouth came into contact with mine. Our conversation was so hot I’m surprised the wires didn’t burn. At one point I noticed something peculiar about the sound of Tracy’s breathing. “Do you know what I’m doing right now?” she asked.

                    I thought I did, but I said, “No. Tell me.” “Well,” she said breathlessly, “I’ve got my finger right where I want you to put your tongue. And I’m rubbing myself slowly and lightly, just the way I want you to lick me.” As she spoke, I began stroking myself, too. At first I just listened to her description of the way she was masturbating, allowing it to lift me to higher and higher levels of excitement. Then, when I felt that I was about to burst, I said, “Oh, Tracy, I’m doing it, too. I’m holding my cock and imagining that it’s your hand on me. I think I’m going to come.”

                    “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes. But wait for me. Just another moment. Wait. Wait. Yes, oh yes. Yes, I’m going to come with you. Now. Yes, now.” Her words and the ·excitement in her voice carried me over the top. I closed my eyes at the moment I pumped my juices into the air. I pictured her hand around my cock, her mouth and tongue caressing my throbbing organ. I don’t know what excited me more: my orgasm or the image of her body writhing as her groans announced her climax. After that, we had sex on the telephone at least once a day, sometimes more often. Although our Christmas vacation was getting nearer and nearer, I thought we would die of anticipation. Our long .. distance lovemaking was stupendous, but we both knew that the real thing would be even more sensational. That last week before the break was ecstatic torment. We talked every morning and again every night. In between, I sneaked off to the bathroom four or five times a day to jerk off. I never felt completely satisfied.

                    Neither of us was willing to wait any longer than necessary for our dreamed-0f reunion. Tracy and I agreed to meet at the airport, telling our parents that we would be arriving a day later than we actually were. My plane came in about an hour before Tracy’s, so when she got there I had already made arrangements for a night at a nearby motel. I drove us there in a rented car. It was a good thing there wasn’t any traffic, because I couldn’t concentrate on driving. In fact, I couldn’t think about anything other than getting into that room with her. The hotel clerk worked so slowly that I wanted to jump over the counter and strangle him. Finally, though, we got our key and headed for the elevator. If we had the elevator to ourselves, I think we would have made love on the way up. As it was, a family with enough luggage for a lifetime rode up with us, and we had to restrain ourselves until we were in the room. Once inside, we fell upon each other like a pair of hungry animals.

                    The desire that had been building inside us for the last ten years got the better of us. We literally tore each other’s clothes off, tossing the tattered garments around us as we kissed and. grabbed at each other. I bit her nipples and squeezed her breasts until she squealed. She pulled so hard on my cock that it hurt me. But neither of us stopped or wanted the other to stop-not for a second. We sank to the floor, making frantic love on the carpet without a thought for the slow acts we had been discussing on the phone. All I wanted was to be inside her. All she wanted was to envelop me in her softness. We hardly moved before our cries signaled our sudden, simultaneous orgasm. After .. ward, we lay panting and gasping for breath, our arms tightly wound around each other’s bodies. A few minutes later, we began to make love again. This time we moved more slowly, each taking the time to explore the other with the loving curiosity that had been driving us. I kissed her nipples and stroked her soft white belly, while she ran her fingers over my chest and thighs.

                    Lifting her, I rose from the floor and carried her to the bed, laying her gently across it. I stood for_ a moment, looking down at her glorious nudity, barely able to comprehend that she was mine, all mine at last. I felt tears flowing from my eyes and realized that she was also crying. Our mutual joy was overwhelming us. Slowly, I bent over her, burying my face between her thighs to sip the honey of her loving excitement. As I began licking her, I felt her hands on my buttocks. She nudged me gently, guiding me down onto the mattress beside her, rolling me onto my back. At the same time, she moved into position above me, straddling me the way we had imagined and described in our telephone conversations.

                    I gazed up at her open vagina, its pink lips dotted with glistening diamonds of moisture. Slowly, tantalizingly, she lowered it toward my face. I could smell the fragrance of her as the space between us narrowed. When she was only a centimeter away from me, I thrust my tongue outward, stroking it lightly over her delicately parted lips. At that same moment, I felt the warm wetness of her mouth closing around the swollen tip of my pulsating penis.

                    So slowly that the progress was almost imperceptible, she took me into her mouth. Following her lead, I slid my tongue gently between the membranes of her vulva. For what seemed like a century, we remained poised that way, tasting the spice of each other’s desire. Each of us slowly became accustomed to the delectable feel of the other’s oral explorations; each savored the taste of the other’s genital secretions. Our contact was so wonderful, so fulfilling, so exciting, that it was like the first time for both of us. We licked and sucked each other until we came to the brink of mutual climax. Then, as if by agreement, we retreated far enough down the slope to allow us to climb slowly to the peak once again. We continued pressing our mouths to each other’s genitals long into the night, each of us recalling the erotic descriptions that had inflamed our imaginations during our daily and nightly telephone conversations.

                    We had so long anticipated this moment that neither of us wanted it to end. We drew it out for as long as we possibly could until both of us felt as though we would shatter if we did not allow our orgasms to release themselves. Then, each of us knowing instinctively when the other was ready, we let it happen. Our anticipation had prepared us for something spectacular, but it was even better than we had imagined. We sobbed together as the throes of our climax rocked the bed and filled the air with the scent of our passions. We kept making oral love until we drifted off on a cloud of contentment. Lying side by side, we reveled in our union.

                    That night of our first sexual encounter was the best we ever had. I guess the build-up created by our explicit sex talk and the longing that we finally recognized as true love enhanced our fulfillment and increased the rewards we both felt. We spent the rest of the night trying to do all the other things we had discussed and envisioned, but we realized at last that one night would not be sufficient. We would have a lifetime to spend learning to please and delight each other. The following semester, I transferred to Tracy’s college so that we would never have to be apart again. A year later we were married, and now we are living happily ever after. Sometimes during the day, we talk to each other on the phone about the sex games we’re going to play in the evening. That little taste of anticipation always sparks our sexual appetites.

                    FREE LIVE CHAT HERE!

                    Be Sociable, Share!