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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.

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    DISCOVERIES

    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.

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      A dream cum true

      Monday, July 2nd, 2018

      Many people become grouchy if they don’t get enough sleep. Recent experiments indicate, however, that it might not ·be sleep deprivation that makes a person tense the next morning. The real root of the problem may lie in an insufficient opportunity to dream.

      In these experiments, two groups slept under controlled conditions every night for a period of several weeks. The members of one group were interrupted whenever their rapid eye movements, or REM, indicated that they were beginning to dream. Members of the other group were woken up as often, but only when they were not dreaming. As a result, the two groups got approximately the same amount of sleep, but one was permitted to dream and the other was not.

      Those allowed to dream experienced no significant change in attitude or behavior. In a relatively short time, however, those who had been prevented from dreaming began to show signs of tension and irritability. Some developed symptoms of severe mental illness and had to be eliminated from the program. These people recovered shortly after returning to their normal dream patterns.

      The obvious conclusion is that we need to dream. Dreams allow our unconscious minds to give expression to secrets that we hide even from ourselves. When these secrets are happy ones, our dreams are pleasant. When the secrets are not happy ones, we have nightmares.

      The dreams we have while awake are called daydreams or fantasies. Unlike those that come to us in our sleep, they are usually subject to our conscious control. This is why we do not have “daymares”.

      Daydreams are also important. They provide us with escape from a reality that, at times, can seem overpoweringly oppressive. They allow us to be what otherwise we might not ever be able to be. They allow us to do what, otherwise, we might not ever be able to do. In daydreams we can fulfill our most impossible wishes.

      The things we wish for and daydream about are not always impossible, though. Sometimes life surprises us with experiences that we imagined but never really believed could happen. When this occurs, we have the sense of a dream coming true. The people whose stories are told in this blog had sexual contacts that they had fantasized about without ever expecting to experience. The unanticipated fulfillment of their secret wishes led them to regard their dreams-come-true as the best sex they ever had.

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        THE WEDDING FEAST

        Monday, July 2nd, 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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          A WALK IN THE WOODS

          Saturday, June 30th, 2018

          Donna is in her forties and does not attempt to hide it. She wears no makeup. Her hair is cut short and brushed back in a simple, natural style. Her flashing blue eyes and even white teeth give her a healthy appearance. She is about five foot-two and slight. Her skin is taut and smooth. She attributes her youthfulness to proper diet. Her husband, Hal, sixty-one, is a retired postal worker. Donna smiles as she remembers an afternoon about a year ago when she and Hal experienced their best sex.

          Everybody seems to be obsessed with physical fitness these days, but Hal and I have never really gotten in to it. The closest we come to being athletic is when we take our walks. When the weather is nice, we try to get out two or three times a week. Sometimes it takes quite some doing, because deep down we’re both terribly lazy. Usually, if we find a scenic place for a walk, we go back again. It’s kind of an incentive to get us up and off our asses. Once we discovered a beautiful trail up by the lake. From the parking lot, ·through the woods, to the edge of the lake and back came to about two miles. Just right for a couple of couch potatoes like us. The first time we went there, we were surprised that we had the whole place to ourselves. The walk took a little less than an hour, and we didn’t see another soul in all that time. That certainly appealed to us. It was so nice and peaceful. When we got back to the car, we decided that we’d walk there again the next day. That was a Saturday, and we did see a few people, but it was still pretty secluded.

          The third time we went there, it was a weekday and we were sure we’d be alone. The sun was hot, and after we had walked for ten minutes or so, Hal decided to take off his shirt and tie it around his waist. After that, he couldn’t seem to stop talking about how good the sun felt on ‘his bare skin. It was making me jealous. “That’s not fair,” I said. “If you get to go without a shirt, I should, too.” I don’t think I was really serious, but Hal jumped at the idea. “Go ahead,” he said. “Take it off. I’d like to be able to watch your boobs bounce. It would make the walk a lot more interesting.”

          M·aybe I thought he was kidding; I don’t know. I do know that as I started undoing the buttons of my shirt, I was expecting him to stop me. But he didn’t. I wondered what he would do if I took off my bra, too. It was the kind that hooks in the front. I began fumbling with the catch, deliberately stalling to see how Hal would react. To my surprise, he said, ”Here, let me help you with that,” and unsnapped it before I knew what was happening. . . It was the first time I was ever topless out of doors. It was an odd feeling. At first, gooseflesh formed on my breasts, not because I was cold, but just because I felt kind of nervous. Without realizing it, I folded my arms across my chest and looked around. “What if someone comes along?” I asked.

          “Not likely,” Hal responded. “It’s the middle of the week.

          All the honest people are working. Come on, we’ie here to walk. Let’s get going.” With that, he started up the trail again, and I stepped along beside him. After a few minutes, the nervousness left me, and I really began to enjoy the sunshine on my naked breasts. “I can understand why some people practice nudism,” I said to Hal. “This really feels good.” ”Yeah,” Hal answered, watching my boobs jiggle. ”And it’s great to be able to see you. Hey,” he added, “What would you think if I took off my walking shorts?” The idea seemed so naughty that I liked it at once. “It’s all right with me,” I answered. “But only if I can, too.” We giggled like a couple of teenagers, both of us excited about the idea of doing something so unconventional.

          “What the hell,” Hal said with a grin. ”Let’s both do it. What could be more natural?” As he spoke, he peeled off his shorts. His penis stirred a bit, becoming semi-erect. “You’re not fooling me for one minute,” I said, pretending to scold him. “Being natural has nothing to do with it. You’re just a dirty old man.” The truth was I was eager to be naked, too. With shaking fingers, I undid the buttons on my shorts and stepped out of them. For a moment I considered walking in my panties, but the expression of sexual hunger on Hal’s face encouraged me to go all the way. He was looking friskier than I’d seen him in quite· a few years, and I liked it.

          “Would you like me to carry your clothes for you?” Hal asked, devouring me with his eyes. “Let’s be real daring,” I suggested, my voice dropping almost to a whisper. ”Let’s leave our clothes here under a rock or something. We can pick them up on the way back~” My husband looked uncertain, but only for an instant. His eyes took on a gleam that would have done a teenager proud. “Right,” he said. His penis sprang to full erection.

          After stashing our clothes, we began walking arm in arm, but it was obvious we weren’t going to get very far. Hal’s stiff organ bounced up and down with every step, and my thighs were becoming moist. The breeze caressed my naked nipples until they pointed our way like beacons; Hal’s hand slipped from my waist to stroke playfully at my backside.

          “I like the feel of your ass muscles when you walk,” he murmured, slipping his fingertips between my buttocks to pet lightly at my sensitive tissues. Turning to him, I put my arms around his neck and pressed my breasts against his hairy chest. “Make love to me,” I demanded, getting right to the point. Taking me by the hand, Hal led me off the trail into a clump of trees. The foliage wouldn’t have been thick enough to give us any privacy if there had been anyone around, but somehow it felt a little safer than the trail. ·I don’t think either of us cared, anyway. We were as horny as a couple of youngsters ‘and couldn’t think of much besides our lust. I felt freer than I had ever felt before. And more aroused.

          Stopping by the stump of a tree that had been cut down ages ago, we embraced again. I put one foot on the tree stump and leaned slightly forward, inviting my husband to enter me from behind. I could feel the smooth skin of his organ grazing my inner thighs as he searched for my opening. Then he was in it. It was just the tip, nudging gently at my sex. Bending over a bit farther, I moved my legs to open myself for him. My excitement was wetting me, easing the friction of his penetration. T .!ntatively at first, and then surer of himself, he plunged forward, burying his length inside my vagina.

          I bucked back at him, swallowing him deep within me. I could feel the sun and air caressing me as he drove in and out. He placed one hand on my hip to guide me against his hard thrusts. His other hand explored my breasts, playing with their flesh and tweaking my nipples.

          We humped hard and fast, as we had in our younger days. Each time he rocked. forward, I threw myself back at him, feeling his swinging scrotum slap against the backs of my thighs. He was like an adolescent, filled with sexual energy, capable of going on forever, filling me with his strength until I was totally satisfied. I don’t know how long we kept at it, but I do know that neither of us felt any need to hurry. After every few strokes, one of us would change position slightly, just enough to bring different parts of our bodies into contact. He was probing me in places where I was sure he had never been before. When I felt my orgasm coming, it ~as with no sense of the frantic urgency that usually heralds a climax. I was comfortable and content.

          “Oh, Hal,” I sighed. “I’m going to come.” “Yes, Donna,” he answered. “I’ve been waiting for you.” I felt him thrash hard against me as we began the dizzy whirl through orgasm. The trees and sky and suri and air were all part of our erotic flight. The rocks and leaves seemed to be coming with us. It was glorious, one of the most glorious moments of my life. Afterward, we stood for a long time, hugging and kissing each other under a canopy of oak leaves. Then, slowly, casually, we strolled back to where we had left our clothes. The world was ours. We were its only inhabitants. There wasn’t another soul in the universe.

          We dressed leisurely, reluctant to separate our skin from the sun and air. I tucked my breasts into the cups of my bra and slipped lazily into my shirt. Just as I began closing the first button, we heard voices. I looked up to see four young hikers walking down the road from the direction of the parking lot. ”Good afternoon,” one of them called, as they went marching briskly by. ”Great day,” Hal answered, tossing a friendly wave. When they were out of sight, he looked at me and smiled. “We just made it,” I said. Together, we burst into breathless laughter. I don’t ever remember having so much fun. I know we never had more exciting sex. I hope we get to do something like that again sometime. We can’t plan it, though. It will have to be something that just happens.

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            A GIFT OF SEX

            Friday, June 29th, 2018

            Leslie is a petite woman in her late thirties. Her dirty blonde hair is soft and long. Her blue eyes sparkle in a way that suggests a childlike love of good times and fun. Leslie holds a middle-management position in a nationwide corporation. Her husband, Rob, is a civil engineer. Leslie says that the best sex they ever had was the gift that she gave Rob on his thirty-fifth birthday.

            Rob and I had been married for ten years, and we always had a pretty good sex life. Actually, in the beginning it was fantastic. We made love almost every night and sometimes in the middle of the day on weekends. Then, after a few years, we both got sort of involved in our work until we found we spent more time on it than on anything else in our lives. When we were home, we were both usually pretty tired. And being the parents of two young daughters took a lot out of us. It got to the point where we were having sex only once or twice a week. Well, most of the time, I guess it was more like once a week than twice. We both enjoyed it, but the truth is that sex didn’t seem all that important to either of us anymore. We probably would have gone on that way forever if it hadn’t been for a TV talk show that I saw one afternoon when I stayed home with the flu. The subject was how to keep the spark alive in marriage. One of the women on the show said that she had taken belly-dancing lessons so that she could arouse her husband with sexy entertainment. I was only half interested and wasn’t listening very closely until I heard another woman say that she and her husband liked to surprise each other with gifts of sex. That really captured my attention! I was intrigued, wondering exactly how they did that. You know how television is, though. They talk . about sex quite openly, but then never really give you any details.

            I thought about it for days afterward and became extremely aroused by the idea. Roh’s birthday was only a few weeks away, and I had been planning to buy him something for his desk. But how exciting it would be if I could surprise him with a gift of sex. I racked my brain trying to figure out what to do. One day I was returning to my office from lunch when I noticed a porno shop. You know, one of those places that sell X-rated videos and products they call “marital aids.” Even though I had passed that little store hundreds of times, I had never given it a thought before. Now, although I didn’t quite know what I had in mind, it occurred to me that I might find something in a shop like that to help me with Rob’s birthday surprise. For a moment, I asked myself, “Should I or shouldn’t I?” Then, before I had time to answer my own question, I brazenly walked inside.

            It was amazing. The place was like an erotic supermarket. There were quite a few people browsing, and I was kind of surprised to see that they all looked respectable. Each corner of the store was filled with different kinds of erotic objects. I didn’t know where to look first. I was drawn to a rack of lingerie. Certainly, a gift of sex would have to begin with a sexy costume. Ordinarily, I am a conservative dresser, even down to my underwear, which is expensive but usually sensible. The seductive undergarments on display were far from conservative, but I was fascinated by them. I imagined wearing them for Rob and was surprised to find that the thought of parading before him in what I considered to be the attire of a hooker excited me tremendously.

            There were so many sexy outfits to choose from that I was somewhat intimidated. But I soon got over that and started looking through them just as though I were in a department store. I’m real petite and don’t usually have much to choose · from. But in this store, there were dozens of styles in my size. I decided to pick something red to set off my dark brown hair. To my own amazement, I selected a sheer red peek-a-boo bra with nipple cutouts and matching panties with an open crotch. The seductive openings were trimmed in lace, and I flushed as I imagined it framing the parts that my underwear usually covers. Deep down I didn’t believe that I would really buy or wear garments like that. Other women might, but not me. The whole idea was too kinky. Yet for some reason, I set them aside and continued looking through the lingerie until I found a lacy black garter belt and black fish-net stockings.

            I placed the red and black wisps of fabric next to each other and tried to picture how they would look on me. Suddenly, I realized that I could go through with it, that it wasn’t all that kinky for me to dress in a way that was designed to turn on my husband. The whole idea of giving Rob a surprise gift of sex began to seem very real to me. I resolved to buy the lingerie and anything else I could find that would help turn his birthday into an erotic event. When I left the porno shop, I was carrying a large bag containing my purchases. In addition to the undergarments, I had bought an X-rated videotape, a tube of strawberry flavored lipstick, and products called Sex Oil, Harem Incense, and Seduction Candles. Later that day, I picked up an expensive bottle of red wine and two cans of smoked oysters, because I had heard that the combination could increase sexual stamina. I hadn’t been so excited about anything in a long time.

            After that, planning Rob’s erotic surprise occupied my thoughts day and night. My excitement increased until his birthday finally arrived. I arranged to send the kids to their grandma’s for the night and left work early so that I would have time to get everything together. I wanted to tum our living room into a passion palace. Since we always made love in the bedroom, I thought the change would add to the surprise. I started a fire in the fireplace and set Seduction Candles on every flat surface. The flickering light gave the room a sexy ambiance, and the scent of burning incense added to the mood. I glanced about, enjoying the warm and seductive atmosphere that I had created. I felt stimulated just thinking about the night I had planned. I poured two glasses of wine and set them on the cocktail table next to a plate of smoked oysters.

            We have a big-screen TV and a videocassette recorder in our living room. I popped the X-rated tape into the VCR and let it run past the credits. The film opened with a man and woman sitting in bed with their clothes on. The woman was telling the man that she was hungry for sex. Suddenly, she began to undress, and he did the same. Within moments, they were kissing and touching each other all over. It aroused me to watch them. I decided it was time to put on the sexy outfit I had bought. Shutting off the VCR, I went into the bedroom and laid my new undergarments on the bed. As I removed my clothes, I had a deliciously naughty feeling. When I was naked, I looked into the mirror at my own breasts and hips. I know my body is far from perfect, but at that moment I felt like the sexiest woman in the world. I was unabashedly setting out to seduce my own husband, and the thought made me feel wonderful. Slowly, I slipped into the red crotchless panties, adjusting the lacy opening so that Rob wouldn’t realize it was there until I showed it to him. Then I put on the bra, garter belt, and hose. My skin glowed white against the lacy fabrics of red and black. I got a pair of black pumps out of my closet and stepped into them. Looking into the mirror again; I appraised myself from top to bottom. My body was firm and tight, and I knew that I looked good in the brief erotic garments. I had worn sexy lingerie on a few occasions in the past, but certainly nothing like this. It made me feel like a different person. I thought about how aroused Rob would get when he walked in the door to find me wearing those seductive things. The idea made me even more excited.

            I could see my nipples hardening, standing out through the lace-trimmed openings in the bra. I stared at them for a moment, watching them become even more erect under my own gaze. I wished that they were darker so that they would be sure to catch his eye. Then, remembering the strawberry lipstick, · I wondered how my nipples would look if I applied a little of it to them. My breasts were beginning to tingle at the thought. When I touched the rigid pink buds with the tip of the lipstick, I felt a pleasurable sensation fl.ash all the way through my body. At that moment, I heard Rob’s car pulling into the driveway. I took a quick look in the mirror at my rouged nipples and the red lace that framed them and rushed back into the living room to make sure everything was ready. I turned on the VCR just as Rob opened the door.

            When he entered, he was bewildered by the unfamiliar lighting effects. Wearing a puzzled expression, he glanced around at the candles and at the porno scene playing on the big-screen TV, as if he thought that he might have walked into the wrong house. Then he saw me and noticed my provocative costume. He stared for a moment at my nipples poking through the lacy peek-a-boo openings. His eyes roamed my body appreciatively, lingering over the black garter belt and stockings. “What’s all this?” he asked softly, obviously pleased by what he saw.

            “Happy birthday,” I said, approaching him slowly with my hips swaying. I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him on the mouth. Then, stepping back, I handed him a glass of wine. “I can’t believe all this,” he murmured. “I can’t believe this outfit you’re wearing. I love it. You’ve never worn anything like this before. What’s going on?” Before answering, I began to unbutton his shirt with deliberate movements. As I did so, I realized that our -lovemaking had become so routine that I couldn’t remember the last time I had undressed him. When his shirt was open, I pulled it off him and began caressing his chest with my hands. I heard him sigh.

            “It’s your birthday present,” I said. “It’s a gift of sex. Relax and enjoy it. Taste the wine.” He sipped tentatively, rolling the wine on his tongue to savor its subtle flavor, and sighed with pleasure. He sipped again, and as he did so, I began to unbuckle his belt. Rob stood still as I unzipped his pants and slipped them down over his muscular legs until they fell to the floor. I could see his erection straining at the front of his shorts. Swiftly, I stripped them from him, leaving him completely naked. He was throbbing with excitement.

            “The wine,” I whispered. “Drink some more wine.” As he sipped from his glass, I reached for the sex oil and poured a little of it onto the palm of my hand. Gently, I began stroking his erection, rubbing the scented oil into the smooth skin. I heard him draw in his breath sharply. I didn’t usually play an . aggressive role in our lovemaking and I was truly enjoying it. I liked the feeling of control it gave me to make his sex spring to the touch of my fingers. He moaned. ”If you don’t stop now,” he said, ”it’ll be all over.” “It won’t be over,” I said. “This is just the beginning. Don’t hold back. Come whenever you want to. It’s going to be a night you’ll never forget.”

            The words had hardly left my lips when his penis began to swell and throb, and I knew that his orgasm was about to begin. “Go ahead, Rob,” I crooned. “Let it happen. Let it flow.” And it flowed. I felt his body tensing and relaxing repeatedly in the paroxysms of sexual climax. As his orgasm ·wound down, I led him toward the couch and eased him into it until we were sitting side by side. After a moment, I reached for the plate of smoked oysters and placed one in his mouth. “Eat it,” I whispered. “It’s for sexual endurance.” When he had swallowed it, I fed him another, and another. As he chewed them, we sipped wine and looked at the erotic acts taking place on the TV screen. Two couples were making love in the same bed, and the camera kept shifting from one to the other. Seeing the filmed close-ups of men’s and women’s sex organs fitting together was increasing my excitement and getting Rob started all over again.

            I slid to my knees on the floor between his ankles and bent over his lap. His penis lay soft and shriveled in the tangled mat of curling pubic hair. I teased it lightly with the tip of my tongue and then took him into my mouth. When we first were married, I performed oral sex on him regularly, but for the past few years our sex had consisted of little more than penetration and thrusting. Tonight, though, I was giving him a gift. Tonight I would do everything I could think of to show him a good time! At first I was afraid that I would be awkward, but as soon as I got started I felt like a sexual expert. I found myself enjoying the taste and the bulky heft of his manhood in my mouth. Within moments I was performing for my own pleasure as much as for his. Rob gasped, and I felt him beginning to harden again. I looked up at him and was thrilled to see that he was watching me intently. Almost without realizing what I was doing, I started putting on a show, making elaborate movements with my lips and tongue until I could feel him throbbing and pulsing.

            Slowly, I let him slip from between my lips. His shaft was rigid and gleamed with moisture. Rising from the floor, I faced him and sat on his lap, straddling his thighs. I saw him looking at my painted nipples. “Taste them,” I said. “It’s part of the surprise.” He licked the tips of my breasts, smiling when he noticed the strawberry flavoring. I could feel the head of his manhood nudging at my opening through the fringed slit at the crotch of my sexy panties. Moving my hips slightly, I worked him inside. Then, with a forward thrust of my pelvis, I buried him completely. By now I was so wet that he slipped in easily. It felt wonderful.

            The two of us rocked back and forth, undulating with rhythmic strokes that caused his length to slide in and out, warming and stretching my internal membranes. I felt him thickening and beginning to throb again. This time, I wanted to make it last. Withdrawing myself from his extended organ, I moved to the floor, falling to my hands and knees. With no trace of subtlety, I waved my backside at him, knowing that my wanton display would arouse him even further. With swaying movements, I silently invited him to enter me from behind.

            We hadn’t done it that way in years, but I had often fantasized about it, remembering the way he had mounted me “doggy-style” when we were first married. I guess I had been missing it without even knowing that I was. Back then I would sometimes remain poised that way for what seemed like hours as he slid forward slowly into me and rocked back even more slowly. To me, that position symbolized the leisurely lovemaking that we had been neglecting for so long. Somehow the freedom we had once known had been replaced by inhibitions.

            Rob sat on the couch for a while watching me, obviously becoming even more aroused as he did so. Showing myself to him in that lewd and erotic way inflamed me also. I had not felt this uninhibited in years. What started as a gift for Rob was turning out to be a gift for me as well. Within moments, he was on his knees behind me, bumping my buttocks with his stiffness. Then he was in me, hunching wildly to bury his full length inside. We moved together until we both came to the edge of explosion, and then, as if by mutual agreement, we held still for a while. I lowered my body until I lay fiat on the floor with my breasts and belly pressed against the carpet. He waited a moment and then began a rhythmic thrusting again to carry us closer to climax. Reaching around me to cup my breasts in his hands, he stroked my nipples with his fingers. As he drove into me, I felt my· orgasm approaching. When it struck, I moaned and sobbed in ecstasy. It was the most powerful sensation I had ever experienced. Before my climax ended, his began. Together, we drifted on a sea of sexual bliss.

            That night we lay together for hours, hugging and kissing as we hadn’t done in years. We stroked and petted each other’s body until we were ready to make love again. Before the night ended, we experimented with every intercourse position that either of us could imagine, sometimes taking inspiration from the performance unfolding on the television screen. We both lost count of our orgasms. We came to a new understanding about our sexuality. Like lots of other couples, we had become too absorbed in our work and in the minor problems of day .. to-day life. As a result, we neglected our sexual needs for so long that we began to forget that we had them. The surprise gift of sex that I gave Rob that night was actually a gift that we gave each other, a gift that we gave our relationship.

            We resolved not to make the same mistake again. We realized how important it was for us to find time to. make love, and how exciting it was to bring a sense of surprise into our lives. Since then our sex life has improved tremendously. We often make love until the sun comes up. And we take every opportunity to surprise each other with gifts of sex. In fact, that surprise I planned for Rob on his thirty .. fifth birthday turned out to be so important to us that we both agree that it was· the best sex we ever had.

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              SEXUAL STARVATION AND EROTIC BANQUETS

              Sunday, June 24th, 2018

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

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

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                EROTIC HOLIDAY

                Tuesday, June 12th, 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.

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                  AWAKENING

                  Tuesday, June 12th, 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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                    APRIL’S SECRET DREAM

                    Thursday, June 7th, 2018

                    April is thirty three and recently divorced. At five foot six, she is slim with a boyish figure that allows her to go braless most of the time. Her short dirty blonde hair frames a gamine face with brown saucer eyes that wear an expression of perpetual curiosity. April works as a secretary in the office of a large insurance company. She is a little nervous as she tells us about an experience that she frequently imagined but never expected to have.

                    My marriage to Bill was a total disaster right from the very beginning. I guess our personalities just weren’t compatible. We fought over everything, rarely had fun together, and worst of all, didn’t even have good sex. For some reason which I still don’t understand, I stuck it out for nine years. Then everything fell apart. The only way for either of us to keep our sanity was to get divorced. I think our divorce was the only thing we didn’t argue about.

                    Bill is a fairly successful architect, and I never had to work during our marriage. Even after the divorce, he agreed to a substantial settlement so that I still wouldn’t have to work if I didn’t want to. But the first thing I did was take word processing courses so I could go out and get a job. Otherwise, I think I would have gone crazy. I needed to meet people and I couldn’t think of any other way. The insurance company I work for owns and occupies an entire seven-story building. We even have our own cafeteria and health club. I’ve made quite a few friends there. Unfortunately, they’re all women. It’s amazing how many women my age are divorced or separated and in the same situation as I. We talk to each other about our problems all the time, but that doesn’t solve them. Before my divorce, Bill and I hardly ever had sex. Afterward, it didn’t get any better. If I didn’t do myself, I wouldn’t get any at all.

                    I never masturbated much, even when I was a kid. I had a fairly strict religious upbringing. Deep down, I always believed that sex wasn’t really permissible unless it was aimed at reproduction. After the divorce, though, there were times when my urges would overcome me, and I would ·rub myself with my fingers until I found relief. I got the idea to buy a vibrator after listening to one ·of the women at the office describe the pleasure that it gave her to use one. It’s amazing how very explicit the conversations would get around lunch tables in the office cafeteria. Some of the women described their sex experiences in such intimate detail that I would feel a burning itch in my loins for the rest of the afternoon. Then in the evening I would spend hours alone in bed playing with my vibrator and imagining the acts and intimacies that they had discussed.

                    Once, one of the women told about a time that Pat, a female claims adjuster, made a pass at her. She turned Pat down, of course. Then she took advantage of the first available opportunity to talk about it at lunch. I was shocked to learn that Pat was a lesbian. She was pretty and feminine looking, with blond hair, a knockout figure, and the kind of big breasts that men die for. I just couldn’t believe that anyone who looked like Pat would be interested in having sex with another woman. I wondered what sorts of things two women would do.

                    Later that night, when· I was in bed touching myself, I pictured Pat touching another woman that way. I was horrified by the idea, but a little fascinated by it, too, I guess. As I imagined two women fingering each other and caressing each other’s breasts, I came to a fast and powerful orgasm. After that, I frequently conjured up the same image deliberately to excite myself when masturbating. I never would have admitted that to anyone, because it seemed so unnatural and sinful. Yet I couldn’t think of a sexier fantasy. When I fantasized about men, it sometimes took me a long, long time to have a climax. But picturing two women together never failed to bring me to a swift and satisfying finish.

                    That’s probably why I was so nervous when Pat stepped up to my table one afternoon while I was having lunch alone. “Do you mind if I join you?” she asked. If I could have thought of a believable excuse, I would have. But there just wasn’t any graceful way out. “Not at all,” I said hesitantly. “I’m almost through anyway.” The big-bosomed claims adjuster set her tray on the table and sat in the chair opposite mine. “I’m Pat,” she said with a friendly smile. “I work on the fifth floor.” She was so warm that I was immediately at ease. “I know,” I said. “I’ve seen you around.” Remembering my manners, I added, “I’m April.” ”As fresh as a spring shower,” Pat quipped. I found myself liking this friendly woman. Conversation flowed so easily between us that for a while I forgot she was gay. She was just like anyone else, and nicer than lots of people I’ve known. We chatted about the weather and about events in the office, and discussed all the things that people talk about when they are getting acquainted. By the time lunch was over, we had become friends.

                    It wasn’t until later that night that I remembered Pat’s sexual preference. I was watching television when my mind started wandering. I found myself trying to imagine what she’d look like without her clothes on and what she would do with another woman. The thoughts aroused me so much that I felt all moist and tingly. Without even bothering to turn off the TV, I reached for my vibrator, slipped out of my jeans and panties, and began pleasuring myself. I closed my eyes and pictured Pat’s huge breasts, imagining that her pink nipples were erect. My orgasm came almost immediately, rolling over me like a tidal wave. When it was through, l realized to my shock that my last mental image as I skyrocketed to ecstasy was of Pat’s naked body. Later, as I lay in bed, I pondered the strange thoughts that I was having. I couldn’t understand why I pictured a nude woman while masturbating or why my mind kept turning to fantasies of two women together. I knew that I found the idea fascinating and extremely exciting, and this scared me.

                    It was against everything I believed in. When I was young I was taught that sex was for making babies. I know that most of the time it doesn’t lead to that, but at least between a man and woman it’s always a possibility. Between two women, there can never be anything more than lust. Maybe that’s what intrigued me so much about it. I lay awake most of the night, feeling guilty about my fantasies. Then, toward morning, I began to see it in a different light. Fantasies are like dreams. There’s nothing wrong with dreaming. If the thought of sex between women was exciting to me, I was entitled to amuse myself with it. As long as it was only a thought, how could it hurt? I made up my mind to put guilt aside. My dreams were harmless, and there was no reason why I shouldn’t have them.

                    Pat and I had lunch together frequently after that. I looked forward to my conversations with her. They were personal and candid, but the topic of sex was never a part of them. She did mention once that ‘she was homosexual, but neither of us brought it up again. We started seeing each other outside the office, meeting occasionally for dinner or a drink. I began to think of Pat as one of my closest friends.

                    Sometimes in the evening when I was alone at home playing with myself, I allowed myself to imagine Pat doing things to me. I pictured her hands and even her lips bringing pleasure to the sensitive tissues of my body. I tried to move my fingers as I thought she would do. When I stroked my pleasure button with the tip of my vibrator, I pretended Pat was holding it. There were times I felt guilty, but I reminded myself that it was only a . dream arid that it could never actually happen in real life. During the day, when I was having lunch with Pat and chatting about everyday activities, I wondered what Pat would think if she knew the role she played in my dreams. I also wondered if she ever fantasized about having sex with me. I toyed with the idea of asking her, but then decided it was best if I kept my secret dreams to myself. I was afraid that bringing sex out into the open would somehow spoil our friendship.

                    By this time, our relationship had come to mean a great deal to me. That’s why I was so upset when Pat broke the news. She told me she had been offered a great job in another city and that she had accepted it. She would be moving away in just a few weeks. I was devastated. In the time that remained, Pat and I saw more of each other than ever before. I helped get her things together for the move, filling out dozens of change. .o f.. address cards and hauling empty cartons from the grocery store for packing. I knew that I was going to miss my new friend terribly. On her last day at the office, there was a little party for her. Drinks were served, and by the time it was over, I was already feeling a little tipsy. After work, I went with Pat to her apartment to help with last minute details. When we finished put .. ting the last strip of tape on the last of the cartons, Pat took a bottle of wine from the cabinet.

                    ”I saved the good stuff for a going .. away celebration,” she said, removing the cork and tipping the bottle into a couple of glasses. Raising mine, I toasted, “To your continued success and our continued friendship.”· Pat hugged me warmly before we sipped together. We drained the bottle completely and were into a second one before I realized it. “I’m really going to miss you, Pat,” I said, copious tears flowing down my cheeks. “You’re the best friend I’ve had.” My shoulders started to shake as I began sobbing. Pat moved over next to me on the couch and placed a comforting arm around me. “We’ll still be in touch, April,” she said. “We can talk on the phone every day.” Her tenderness touched me so that I started crying even harder. Pat held me tighter, stroking my hair and murmuring words of comfort. When I buried my face in her shoulder, sobbing like a child, she kissed my forehead lightly. “Don’t cry, April,” she whispered.

                    The next thing I knew, she was kissing me on the lips. It was a soft and friendly kiss at first. Without thinking, I returned it. It felt like a natural exchange between close friends. Gradually, her lips increased the pressure, and so did mine. Before either of us realized what was happening, the contact became passionate. I felt her nibbling at my lips, alternately tantalizing them with soft strokes of her tongue and pressing them heatedly. Involuntarily, I responded, kissing her as I had never kissed Bill. Our tongues played hide-and-seek from her mouth to mine. Our breathing became deep and labored. The tension that I was feeling began to dissolve, leaving me comfortable and relaxed in the arms of my woman friend.

                    Once it began, our embrace moved forward without shame or hesitation. Pat cradled me in the encircling security of her arms. Her hands moved over my back, petting and stroking me until I felt like purring. She pressed the front of her body against mine, exciting me with the softness of her breasts. “I want to touch you,” she whispered, slipping one of her hands under my sweater. I was wearing no bra. I trembled, not with fear but with burning excitement, as her gentle fingers moved over the smooth skin ~f my belly’ exploring higher until they found the small mounds of my breasts. At first she stroked little circles around their quivering tips, as if afraid that direct contact would break the spell~ My nipples were hard, and I wanted her to touch them. I moved my body to bring her fingertips into contact with the turgid buttons.

                    When I ·first felt her fingers grazing them, I moaned softly with pleasure. Emboldened by the sound, Pat took the erect cones between her thumbs and forefingers, rolling them expertly until my entire body was on fire. I had fantasized about her doing this to me so many times that her touch felt almost familiar. I closed my eyes and allowed the waves of pleasure to engulf me. I wanted to touch her, too. More than anything, I wanted to see her breasts. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. Reading my mind, Pat leaned away from me and unbuttoned her blouse. I became frantically excited at the glimpse of white lace that covered her. Without a thought, I reached out, placing my hands inside her open blouse and running my fingers over the delicate fabric of her undergarment.

                    “Oh,” I said. “You have such big, beautiful breasts.” “Would you like to see them?” Pat asked softly in a trembling voice. I realized that she was even more nervous than I was. “Ooh, yes,” I answered, reaching behind her to undo hooks and eyes with shaking fingers. Gracefully, she moved her arms and slipped out of blouse and bra in one quick gesture. Her breasts were high and round, with nipples even bigger and pinker than I had imagined. I was in awe. “Pat,” I whispered. “I always wished I had boobs like yours. They’re beautiful.”

                    Pat cupped the two globes in her hands and held them up to me. “I’ve been dying to show them to you,” she said. “And I’ve been dying to see yours.” Without waiting for further encouragement, I stripped my sweater over my head. I had always felt that my breasts were too small and unfeminine, but the excited gasp that came from Pat’s lips made me feel good about them. “I love your little titties,” my friend whispered, moving her hands from her own large breasts to my small ones. My nipples were so hard that they felt like rocks. I closed my eyes and let her thrill me. “I want to see all of you,” Pat said eagerly. “Let’s both get completely naked.”

                    I don’t remember either of us undressing, but within moments our clothes were scattered carelessly around the room, and we were looking hungrily at each other’s bodies. Pat groaned when she saw my thick and tangled bush. Hers was sparser, the curling golden hair looking soft and silky. “I want to touch your breasts,” I murmured, nervous with excitement. Without waiting another moment, I took the ripe mounds in my hands. I had never touched another woman’s boobs before. I couldn’t believe how good it felt.

                    When my hands started to knead and squeeze the resilient flesh, her nipples swelled up like cherries. Instinctively, I took one in my mouth, sucking lightly on it. Then I held both of them in my hands. Pat’s moan of pleasure excited me. It was thrilling to give so much satisfaction to another person. I was getting to live out the dream that I had been enjoying for so many lonely nights. As in the fantasy, I felt Pat’s hands on my small breasts, twirling the erect nipples. I tried to follow her example, attempting to touch her in exactly the same way she was touching me.

                    We sat naked on the couch for a long time, each of us holding the other’s breasts, each of us demonstrating to the other what pleased us most. When her fingers found an especially sensitive place on my nipples, I looked for the corresponding spot on hers. We learned about ourselves and each other as we enjoyed our mutual exploration.

                    I sucked on Pat’s cherry nipples, rolling my tongue over their erectness while listening to my friend’s sensuous moans. Leaning back, I closed my eyes to let her suck on mine. Her tongue traced circles around them, bringing me more pleasure than I had ever known.

                    I was so wet between the legs that I could feel moisture coating the white skin of my inner thighs. In my dreams, Pat always did mysterious things to me down there. I wondered if anything like that could really happen. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. While Pat’s lips were nibbling at the ends of my breasts, I boldly placed my hand on the back of her head. Pressing gently, I guided her face downward until her mouth moved lower and lower across my belly. At last I could feel her hot breath against the lips of my opening. For a moment, I was scared. Excitement replaced fear when I felt her kissing lightly at my feminine tissues.

                    Nothing in ~Y life ever felt that good. Bill never put his mouth anywhere near my sex. The closest I ever came to experiencing it before was in my dreams. And then it was always Pat who was doing it. Now, as her mouth glided over my vulva, my hot passion mingled with the excitement of living out a fantasy that I had never expected to come true. Even in my dreams, I didn’t imagine specifically what her mouth would be doing to me. Every touch of her lips and tongue was an exciting surprise. I felt her nibble at my sensitive membranes, the grazing softness of her lips opening me farther and farther. Then I felt the tip of her tongue sink inside with a gentleness that a penis could never master. It drove deeper and deeper until I could feel the lips of her mouth press against my sex lips.

                    I groaned, my eyes shut tightly. Fantastic images were spinning in my brain while thrills of erotic excitement set me quivering. I could almost see the droplets of moisture that oozed from me. I could almost taste the spice of the lovejuices that fl.owed so freely. I wanted to do to Pat the things she was doing to me. I wanted to see her opening, to smell it, to press my face into it. I wanted to tongue her the same way she was tonguing me. I wanted to give back some of the pleasure I was receiving.

                    Pat must have sensed my hunger. Guiding me with hands on my naked hips, she moved me from the couch to the carpeted floor. I lay on my back with my legs splayed wide, my womanhood completely open to her gaze, to her touch, vulnerable to anything she wanted to do to it. Pat straddled me, her knees. on either side of my head, her body facing my feet. The open gash of her turgid vagina was just above my mouth. I had never really seen a woman’s sex organ up close before. Not even my own. Pat’s was beautiful. It looked like an exotic flower, a lovely rose-colored orchid. She lowered her face until her lips and tongue were in contact again with my female opening. This brought her crotch lower· until it was floating just above me.

                    I inhaled, smelling the fragrant musk of her excited femininity. I wanted to taste her. Raising my head slightly, I pressed my lips against the glistening membranes. In my dreams, I had always been the recipient of pleasure. I had never even imagined doing what I was doing now. My excitement overcame me, though, and I reached tentatively out with my tongue to lap fascinatingly at Pat’s labia. I couldn’t believe how exotically good she tasted. Becoming bolder, I began to lick. her crack with the same enthusiasm that she showed as she licked me. Simultaneously, we plunged each other’s depths with swabbing strokes of our tongues. I felt her mouth working its way higher, toward the quivering point of desire at the head of my clitoris. When she dabbed it carefully with the tip of her tongue, the sensation was exquisite. An involuntary cry of excitement tore from my throat. Encouraged by it, Pat began sucking my little love button hungrily, making me sob and pant with delight.

                    Wanting to give her as much pleasure as she was giving me, I began searching for the center of her sex, moving my tongue in widening circles until it encountered the erection of her clit. Her· hips bucked wildly, pressing her dampness against my face. I continued to explore her lingually, searching for the most sensitive spot. Pat groaned loudly in response to my gentle sucking of her
                    clitoris. The sound made her lips and throat vibrate, tantalizing my ganglion until I thought I would die of pleasure. She lapped figure eights around my button, setting off a series of bubbling reactions in my loins. I reciprocated, sucking her sex as though I had been doing it all my life. When I felt her jerk, I knew instinctively that her climax was beginning. My own was forming too, like a volcano beneath the surface of my sex. It was burgeoning, looming larger and higher with each breath I took. I wanted to postpone it for as long as I could, to put it off so that I could concentrate all my energies on my friend and on her sexual satisfaction.

                    I opened my eyes to stare at the drooling opening of her sex, my mouth working her clit feverishly. I was sure that I could taste the juices of her orgasm flowing. Her body was twitching and convulsing uncontrollably, waves of pleasure robbing her of all control. When she reached the peak of ecstasy, she screamed once, long and loud. I knew that was the signal for me to let myself go. Groaning· and sobbing, I poured forth the pent-up energy of sexual release. Flashes of pleasure wracked my body, making me roll and writhe beneath her. All the while, her lips continued nibbling at me, bringing shuddering wave after shuddering wave to my exploding groin. I had never dreamed anything could feel this good. It was the longest and the best orgasm I ever had in my life.

                    We seemed to drift into a state of semiconsciousness for a while. When I was aware again of what was happening, I found us lying side by side exhausted on the floor. Pat was worried, apparently concerned that this unexpected experience would damage our friendship. “April,” she said. “I didn’t mean for this … ” I just giggled. ”It was the best sex I ever had,” I said, putting her at ease. “It was a wonderful going-away present we gave to each other. I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.”

                    I’ve never had another experience with Pat, or with any other woman, for that matter. I guess it was just a one-time thing. But I’m not the least bit sorry about it. Sometimes it seems like just another one of those sexy masturbation fantasies that I dream when I play with myself at night. It really happened, though. I’m glad my dream came true.

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