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Archive for November, 2015

MORE THAN TWO

Monday, November 30th, 2015

Although very few have actually experienced it, many people are stimulated by the thought of group sex. Knowing this, authors of pornographic novels and producers of X-rated films routinely fill their work with scenes involving more than two people. Obviously, the idea is not new. Similar depictions appeared on Greek vases in the fifth century B.c. and on the walls of ancient Indian temples. Group sex generally comes in two varieties. In one form, two or more couples make love in the same room, each stimulated by the presence of the other. They may exchange mates, but each person has only one partner at a time. In the other form, one or more members of the group has several partners simultaneously.

According to some sources, orgies and “swing parties” were commonplace during the 1970s in every suburban community in the United States. Psychologists and sociologists doubt that this was so. Whatever the actual frequency of group sex in our society, its popular presence in erotic art and entertainment proves that it is on· the minds of many people. In gathering material for Whispered Secrets,* our book about sexual fantasy, we found group-sex fantasies to be among the most common described by the people we interviewed. However, we also found that as a real-life practice, it is rather. unusual. While it may be pleasant to imagine the simultaneous touch of many hands or the taste of many bodies, group sex is not for everyone. Insecurity is often generated by the troubling question: “ls my partner enjoying that other person’s touch more than mine?” The jealousy that results from observing a lover in the arms of another can seriously jeopardize a relationship.

The people whose stories are told in this blog claim that their experiments caused no damage and, in fact, led to the best sex they ever had. If this is so, they belong to a relatively small and rare breed of human. Even for them, however, these activities are what one described as “the kind of thing you do maybe once in a lifetime.”

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    EXQUISITE DESSERT

    Monday, November 30th, 2015

    Carl, thirty-three, is tall and brawny, carrying 210 pounds on his six-foot frame. His short hair is light brown like his eyes. When he moves, his muscles ripple impressively, muscles developed not from exercising in a gym, but from hard physical labor. Carl started working in construction when he was seventeen. For the past six years, he has owned his own contracting company. His twenty six-year-old wife, Lucy, works as a sales representative for a women’s clothing line. Carl says he and Lucy have their best sex when one plans an erotic surprise for the other .

    Sex is always good for Lucy and me. I don’t think it’s ever going to get old with us. Probably one of the reasons for it is this little game. we play. We love to surprise each other with unusual sex. Lucy started it all about six years ago. It was just after I got into my own business. We were doing some subcontracting on a tall building that was being constructed in the center of town. One afternoon, just before quitting time, Johnnie, one of my workers, told me that there was a problem on the top floor. He asked me to go up and have a look with him. Now remember, this wasn’t a building yet; just the skeleton of a structure. You know, steel girders and poured concrete floors. Not much more. I followed Johnnie into the cage-the construction elevator. I punched the button for the thirty-seventh floor. Then, just as the cage started going up, Johnnie jumped off, hollering that .he’d see me later. I couldn’t imagine what the hell was going on, but with that elevator, once you punch in the floor number you can’t stop it. So up, up, and away I went. I figured the son of a bitch was playing a joke on me and sending me for a joy ride. I was going to ride down again as soon as the cage got to the top floor so I could have a little talk with Johnnie. But when it stopped, there was a surprise waiting for me. My wife was standing barefoot on the concrete apron by the elevator gate. She was wearing a smile and nothing else.

    Man, did that turn me on. I mean, here I was right in the middle of the city on the top floor of a completely open structure, with my wife stark naked and her giant tits flapping in the breeze. And let me tell you Lucy’s got some big ones. She’s really a hot-looking woman, about five-seven with a tiny waist and wide hips. Her hair is real dark, almost black, and she’s got a jungle of it down below, if you know what I mean. Everything was showing. I just stood there gawking, with my cock getting hard. “Hi, big boy,” she said, putting on an exaggerated seductive voice. “Glad you could come up and see me.” She opened the elevator gate and grabbed my hand, dragging me out of the cage. Without another word, she unzipped my fly and pulled out my dick, which by now was as hard as an iron bar.

    Pretty as you please, she dropped to her knees on the rough concrete and started sucking me off. When I felt her hot mouth closing around me, all I could do was concentrate on the sensations. Her tongue was swabbing my tool while the skyscraper wind whistled in the girders around us. It was so sudden and unexpected that I came right away. Lucy kept on sucking me while I pumped and pumped and pumped. My eyes were shut tight, and for an instant I forgot where I was. Just as I finished coming, Lucy started pushing me backward with her hands. When I opened my eyes, I found myself back in the cage. She slammed shut the gate, punched the button for the ground floor, and sent me on my way again. “Nothing like going down,” she called as the cage descended. When I got to the bottom, Johnnie was laughing. She had set up the whole thing with him in advance. “Hey, boss man,” Johnnie teased. “Better zip up your fly.”

    After that, Lucy and I started to compete with each other to see who could come up with the best erotic surprise. The great thing about that kind of contest is we both are winners. We always try to outdo each other at our little sex game, but I’ve got to take credit for the best one of all. It was when I thought up the idea of surprising her with dessert. It was just a couple of months ago, in fact. In the morning, we agreed to meet after work for a fancy dinner in one of our favorite restaurants. I had been hatching my scheme for a week or two. As soon as Lucy left to go to her job, I got everything ready.

    That night, we had a couple of drinks and a great dinner. At the end of the meal, the waiter offered to bring coffee and a dessert tray. Lucy was about to order when I interrupted. “I don’t think so,” I said, winking at my wife. “Tonight we’re having dessert at home.” I could tell fro in Lucy’s expression that she got my meaning. She knew a surprise was coming. We practically fell over each other in haste as I paid the bill. Heading home, I don’t know which of us was more eager for the rest of the night to unfold. As soon as we got into the house, I told Lucy to go into the bedroom, get completely undressed, and wait for me on the bed. I went to the kitchen to get the tray that I had prepared earlier and carried it into the bedroom.

    Lucy had followed my instructions and was lying nude on her back on the shower curtain that I had used to cover the bed. Her legs were spread slightly to give me a view of her pussy. She knows how hot that gets me. “What’s with the plastic sheet?” she asked. Then she sat up to look curiously at the tablecloth I had thrown over the tray. “And what are you hiding under that?” ”Never mind,” I answered. ”Just close your eyes and leave everything to me.” I could tell by the way her nipples got hard that she was excited. She lay back down, closing her eyes submissively. · Taking a jar of honey from the tray, I went to the foot of the bed. I stroked her feet with my hands and then poured some honey onto them. “What are you doing?” she asked, as the thick liquid trickled over and between her toes.

    I answered without words, lifting her foot to my mouth and closing my lips around her big toe. She sighed softly when I began sucking one toe at a time, dipping my tongue into the spaces between them to lap up every drop of honey. I did the same to her other foot, her body writhing in response to the explorations of my mouth. After I licked all the honey from her feet, I held the jar over her and drizzled long streaks of it up the entire length of her legs, watching it ooze over the insides of her thighs and drip onto the plastic sheet that covered the bed. I also poured a gob of the sticky stuff into the crater of her navel. I could see by the way her pelvis began thrusting that contact with the thick liquid was arousing her. I was in no hurry.

    Slowly, with light flicks of my tongue, I began licking the honey off her skin. I started at her right ankle and trailed my way up a millimeter at a time, my mouth coming closer and closer to her pussy. The fragrance of her sexual excitement mingled with the sweet scent of honey, creating the most exotic perfume I ever inhaled. I brought my tongue to the edge of her opening and then teased her by changing direction and licking downward, concentrating on the inside of her thigh. She began to moan as I repeated the performance on her other leg, again bringing my mouth to the brink of her sex before heading down toward her ankle. Her hairy mound was rotating in small circles as her excitement built. I placed my hand on the triangle of fur and pressed gently, feeling the moisture of desire oozing between her sex lips. Bending over her, I licked around the outside of her navel, enjoying the sweet flavor of the honey mixed with the salty taste of her excited perspiration. I dipped the tip of my tongue into the golden pool that the nectar formed in the pit of her belly button. She lifted her ass off the mattress, trying to press herself harder against my face, but I pulled back slightly to keep the contact light and teasing.

    Lucy has a sensitive navel and always likes it when I lick her there in our foreplay. The sticky substance must have increased her sensitivity, because as I lapped at it with hungry strokes of my tongue, her moans got louder. I kept it up until I had swallowed every drop. By now she was beside herself, her body moving violently on the bed. Dipping two of my fingers into the honey jar, I rubbed it softly onto the open lips of her pussy. She practically howled at the touch. I returned to the jar for more, and then did it again, until every bit of pink membrane was shining with the syrupy coating. Pouring generously from the jar, I drenched her clit, watching it swim in the amber fluid.

    Lucy convulsed with excitement, her hips thrashing from side to side. Her legs spread apart even farther, her sexual opening begging for more attention. The honey on her pussy seemed to be bubbling with her heat. I began rubbing it, inserting my fingers between the lips to carry some of the sweetness inside. With the tips of my index and middle fingers, I traced a circle around the throbbing button of her clit, bringing her almost to the edge of climax. When I stopped, she groaned a plea for satisfaction.

    In response, I licked lightly at her sex lips. The honey sweetened the spicy female flavor, exciting me almost as much as it was exciting her. I delved deep with the blade of my tongue, plunging it inside to extract the combination of sweet syrup and lovejuice. The sounds she made inspired me to perform intricate maneuvers with my lips and mouth. I turned her pussy inside out to suck hungrily at it. I lapped around its edges, bringing soft cries of desire from her throat. Finally, I closed my mouth around her clit. She practically hit the ceiling. I sucked and I licked, lapping at the sticky syrup that coated her most sensitive spot. The taste was changing, sweetness giving way to the tart erotic savor ofher.preorgasmic secretions. I sucked harder, pressing my mouth tight against her mound to form with my lips a protective circle around her clit. I made a buzzing sound in the back of my throat, which set my whole mouth vibrating to increase her pleasure.

    With a cry, she reached a climax. Her juices poured from her opening, coating the honeyed walls of her vagina and wetting the insides of her thighs. I licked her until she placed her hands on my head and pushed me away. She lay there panting, trying to calm herself after her explosive orgasm. Before she could completely recuperate, I brought on the second course. Her eyes were open now. She seemed to watch helplessly as I poured warm fudge sauce over and around her breasts. The gooey syrup coated the crinkled red nubbins of her nipples and circled the pebbly disks surrounding them. When the smooth skin of her big round tits was crisscrossed with dark chocolate lines, I sprinkled them with flakes of white candy.

    Shaking a can of whipped cream, I sprayed a snowy cap onto each of her mountains. I decorated each swelling breast with banana slices and a bright red cherry from a bowl on the tray. I took a plump strawberry and used it to dab some of the fudge sauce from her breast. After dipping it into the whipped cream, I offered it to her, holding the sweetened berry to her lips. After she ate it, I helped myself to one. First I stroked her softly with it, coating the red fruit with syrup. Then I trailed the chocolate-covered strawberry around both nipples, picking up some of the whipped cream and candy flakes. Scooping a banana slice onto the erotic confection, I bit into it, exposing the fleshy inside of the strawberry. I rubbed its juicy surface against her nipple, burrowing through the dollop of whipped cream toward its peak before popping the rest of the berry into my mouth. Lucy was becoming aroused again by our erotic feast. When I started licking the coatings directly from her skin, she moaned. I used my tongue like a paintbrush, dabbing in little strokes that stimulated her to make rhythmic movements with her hips and pelvis. I licked steadily, starting at the base of one breast and trailing my tongue all around it before sliding its tip across the valley of her cleavage to begin on the other. I took my time, coming nearer and nearer to her nipples without actually making contact with them.

    When I finally had both tits licked clean, I took one nipple in my mouth and sucked on it. By now I knew she was ready to be fucked. It would culminate our erotic dessert. Holding a can of whipped cream in each hand, I garnished the entire front of her body with the fluffy white topping. She made little sobbing sounds as the airy substance swirled and fl.owed over her to tickle and titillate her skin. The warmth of her body made the cream velvety and light,. and sent it seeking its way into her every nook and cranny. When the cream had formed a two-inch cushion that covered her completely, I sprayed the last of it onto my pulsating erection. Lucy’s eyes widened with excitement when she realized what was about to happen.

    I knelt on the edge of the bed and lowered my body onto hers. The whipped cream compressed between us, our combined body heat melting it a little, making us slick with it. I moved my torso from side to side, slipping and sliding against her. The smoothness of the cream softened the roughness of my skin. I stroked her tits with my chest, feeling my own nipples harden as they made contact with hers. My cock was moving by itself, seeking the heat of her welcoming pussy. Her hips lifted, raising her opening high to make the entry easier. When the throbbing tip found her slit, it fell inside, lubricated by the thick coating of whipped cream. At the moment of penetration we both gasped. Neither one of us was prepared for the sudden rush of ecstasy that swept over us. I plunged forward, burying the entire length of my hard-on within her. We began thrusting together in rhythm. Each in-stroke brought me right to the center of her sex, making my scrotum swing forward to slap gently against her cream-coated ass. When I drew back, the cream glued us together for a moment, connecting our writhing bodies. We continued to slide against each other as we fucked. Lucy wrapped her legs around my waist to keep me from slipping away and to pull me tight against her, my cock driving once more to her center.

    “Oh, Carl,” she whimpered. “You fuck me so good. Oh, Carl. I’m going to come. Again.” I felt it too, that wonderful friction beginning in my balls and forcing its way up through my cock. With each plundering thrust, the internal tingling increased. It was becoming almost unbearable. We drove harder and deeper, each stroke bringing us closer to a shared orgasm. It hit like a blast of dynamite. I pumped my come into her while she poured her· juices over my cock. The spasms of pleasure had me shuddering and gyrating, oblivious to the world around me. I heard nothing but Lucy’s guttural cries as she rose to sexual satisfaction. We clawed at each other, frantic to extinguish the fires consuming us. We came forever, riding to the heights before drifting slowly back down to earth. When it was over, we were totally exhausted and totally content.

    Shit, man. That was something.

    I hope I didn’t shock you with my story or the language I used. You asked me about the best sex I ever had. So I told it like it was.

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      BALLING ON THE COURT

      Saturday, November 28th, 2015

      sexy tight white skirt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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        SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION

        Saturday, November 28th, 2015

        A marriage counselor once told a couple that their relationship would improve if they injected more spontaneity into their sex life. “Instead of planning it, just make love whenever the mood strikes,” she advised them. On their next visit to her office, the couple reported that they had taken her advice and that, although their marriage had improved as a result, they were no longer welcome _in their favorite restaurant. Sexual urges are not the products of discipline or training. They are always bubbling in the caldera of our unconscious minds. Like lava, they spring forth whenever they find an opening, regardless of any sense of propriety about time or place.

        Predetermining when and where sexual intercourse will occur is like attempting to tame the forces of Nature itself. The results are often disastrous. Sex loses its novelty when it becomes scheduled or routine. This may cause a relationship to grow stale and lackluster. The excitement of making love on impulse can restore the glitter, even if it does offend the headwaiter.

        There is, of course, a middle ground. Life offers many opportunities for indulging erotic desires without falling to the floor in the local supermarket or coupling on the photocopy machine in the middle of the office. Adventurous couples can always find a place for unscheduled sex without risking arrest for public lewdness.

        The people who tell their stories in this blog are of different ages and varied walks of life. What they have in common is that they all discovered the benefits of sexual spontaneity. The joy that is apparent as they recount their experiences is a suggestion of the pleasures that await those who are willing to change their plans at a moment’s notice to accommodate their sexual needs.

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          EQUESTRIAN FANTASY

          Sunday, November 22nd, 2015

          Barrie is forty-two years old. Her five-foot-seven-inch frame carries a voluptuous fleshiness that brings to mind a painting by Rubens. She wears her wavy chestnut hair long and loose. The color of her eyes, just a shade darker than her hair, emphasizes the olive of her complexion. Barrie’s husband, Gordon, owns a car dealership, which he inherited from his father. Barrie says that the best sex she ever had was on the day Gordon became the handsome prince of her adolescent dreams.

          About four years ago, Gordon and I found the vacation home that we had been searching for. It’s an old stone house in the woods on three hundred acres of land in the heart of Washington’s timber country. It’s only a few hours’ drive from the city where we live, but it feels like another world. As soon as we saw it, we knew it was for us. I liked the seclusion, but I think that what appealed most to Gordon was that the place needed a lot of fixing up. He said that working with his hands on the weekend would help him relax after a hard week in the city. Cedar and pine and fir trees grow over most of the land, but the area around the house is clear. There are a few outbuildings, a small ham, and a corral. When we bought the place, there was a white horse in our corral. It belonged to Fred Conklin, a neighbor who was in the process of building a new ham on his own land. When we moved in, Fred offered to remove the horse to a temporary shed that he had constructed, but I told him it wouldn’t be necessary. I liked seeing the horse there.

          Fred told me that he didn’t have time to do much riding and that we could ride Gunner whenever we wanted to. He said that Gunner was an old reliable trail horse who had been ridden through these woods for more than twenty years and probably knew them better than any human ever could. He frequently let Gunner out in the morning to graze on whatever wild grasses he could find. In the evening, Gunner always returned to the corral, where his oats and hay were waiting. Fred said that if Gordon and I really wanted to become familiar with our property, we ought to climb onto Gunner’s back and let him go wherever he wanted. Sooner or later we’d get to see all of our land that way. Fred said that Gunner was strong enough to carry two people. I liked the idea at once. I had done quite a bit of riding when I was a girl. In fact, I had my first sexual experience while riding a horse. I’ll never forget the first time that it happened to me. My parents had given me a chestnut quarter horse for my fourteenth birthday. I used to ride ev.ery day after school.

          At first I was real nervous. I’d cling to the pommel of my saddle so hard that my knuckles would tum white. After a while, though, I became more confident. Soon I was even riding without a saddle. That’s how it happened. I would bridle the horse and throw a thin blanket over his back. Then I would ride the neighborhood trails, holding on with my legs. As I bounced up and down against the horse’s backbone, I would get a warm sensation between my thighs. I didn’t quite know what it was, but I knew that it felt good. Sometimes, when I was.sitting in my clas~ at school, I would daydream about riding. But I’m sure it was really that tingly feeling that I would be thinking about.

          Then one day it happened. I was deliberately bouncing and rubbing myself against the horse’s back, feeling the sensation getting more and more intense. The crotch of my panties was getting moist, and I knew somehow that it wasn’t the horse’s sweat that was making me wet. Suddenly, with a gush of excitement, I exploded. For what seemed like an eternity, the rest of the world disappeared. I felt like I was spinning in the vortex of a giant whirlpool. It was a little frightening, because I felt that I had totally lost control of myself and my emotions. But it was wonderful. I hoped that it would never end and for a while I thought it wouldn’t. When it was over, I struggled to catch my breath, suddenly realizing that I was still on horseback and that not very much time had passed at all. I rode home immediately.

          The next day, I hurried to go riding after school again. This time I knew that I was riding for that feeling. I positioned myself as far forward as possible so that my pelvis was pressed tight against the base of the horse’s neck. With every step, the movements of his head rubbed his rigid backbone against the sensitive tissues between my legs. I hadn’t ridden half a mile when I felt the explosion begin. This time when it was over, I kept riding until I made it happen again. After that, I realized that I was in control. I could bring on that wonderful feeling any time I wanted to. A few months later one of the girls at school mentioned the word orgasm, and all the other girls said that they hoped they would get to have one some day. It was then that I realized what had been happening to me every afternoon when I rode my horse. I never told the other girls, though. It was my little secret.

          I began experimenting with different gaits and speeds, seating myself in various positions until I became an expert at masturbating on horseback: Eventually, I discovered that I could bring on the orgasms more quickly and make them more intense ifl didn’t wear underwear. I would ride in a long flared skirt, spreading it out around me so that no one would know that I was naked underneath it or that I was rubbing myself against the horse through the thin saddle blanket.

          As my orgasms approached, I found myself fantasizing about a tall handsome Prince Charming who had scooped me up and carried me off on the back of his glis~ening white horse. He would make passionate love to me while his horse bounded over hills and dales on the way to his castle. Somehow we were always naked in my fantasy, except for the gold crown which he wore on his head and that never seemed to bounce off. These were the thoughts that were going through my mind the first time I rode Gunner. Fred Conklin had an old saddle, but he said that Gunner was used to being ridden bareback. When he offered me a saddle blanket and suggested that I just throw it over Gunner’s back and climb o~, I couldn’t help smiling to myself.

          I hadn’t ridden since my teens, and it never occurred to me that I would experience those wonderful erotic sensations on horseback again now that I was an adult. But I did. I was wearing an old pair of faded Levi’s that I’d had for so long that they were perfectly molded to my body. When I threw my leg over Gunner’s back, the fabric pulled tight against my crotch, exciting me in a strange but familiar way and making me feel warm all over. I realized at once that it wasn’t the jeans that were turning me on so much as it was my recollection of those adolescent experiences.

          It took a moment for me to settle comfortably on the horse and I wiggled about, seeking the right position. As I did so, I could feel Gunner’s back caressing my sex through my jeans. I became moist almost at once.

          I took Fred’s advice, letting Gunner walk wherever he pleased. After a few minutes, I began moving my body in rhythm with his steps, remembering things about riding that I had thought I had forgotten. Soon it felt natural to just fiow along with the animal. I didn’t even have to think about what I was doing.

          As the forest swallowed us, I gazed around at the scenery, unconsciously enjoying the warm sensation in that secret spot between my legs. It was like having my adolescent experiences all over again. Only it was better now. When I was a teenager, every sexual sensation was new to me, and sometimes the newness distracted me from the pleasure. But now I was an adult. I knew all about sex. None of the sensations was new. There was no confusion, no uncertainty. There was nothing but pleasure. I was free to enjoy it in a way I never could have as an innocent young girl.

          I could feel my nipples hardening against the inside of my bra. I suppose the same thing must have happened when I was fourteen, but I can’t remember being aware of it then. I pressed the palms of my hands against my breasts, feeling them tingle at my own touch. The heat of sexual passion was rising quickly inside me.

          Gripping Gunner tightly with my legs, I began rocking my groin against his back. Each movement made me wetter. Every step that he took bounced me against him and made my tissues throb with pleasure. As I felt a climax overtaking me, I shut my eyes tightly, returning to my teenage world of discovery. When the first wave of ecstasy washed over me, I had a fleeting image of a naked Prince Charming in a gold crown penetrating me with his massive penis.

          After that, I took Gunner out almost every weekend, usually while Gordon was fixing or building something in the house. Gunner was an easy horse to ride, and I had a feeling of total confidence as he walked or loped through the forest. I enjoyed exploring the woods at the whim of the horse. Most of all, I enjoyed the secret orgasms that I had on Gunner’s back. Each time I came, I relived the fantasy of sex on horseback. It was still a handsome prince who made love to me while carrying me off to his castle. But now the prince had Gordon’s face.

          After my rides, I would tell Gordon about the beautiful places I had seen. But· I didn’t tell him about the orgasms. I guess I was a little embarrassed. After all, I wasn’t a kid anymore; I was a married woman. I was afraid that Gordon would wonder why I didn’t just ride. back and make love to him when I was feeling sexy. I was afraid that he’d get jealous of my riding.

          ·One day, Gunner took me to a spot I had never seen before. It was located deep in the forest, where the trees were so thick that the sun couldn’t shine through. Suddenly, Gunner stepped in.to a clearing where the light was dazzling. It felt like we had entered another world. I could feel the sun’s heat beating down against me in sharp contrast to the cool damp of the forest. There was a little pond, and the air was absolutely still except for the sound of unseen birds in the treetops. It was the most picturesque place on our property.

          I couldn’t wait for Gordon to see it. On the ride back, I paid careful attention to its location so that I could be sure of finding it again. When I described it to Gordon, he was intrigued. He agreed to visit the spot with me the following weekend. Some time during that week, I decided to try and live out my adolescent dream with Gordon. In preparation for the weekend, I went to a W estem-wear shop in the city and bought a long, flared skirt with fringe around the hem. It reminded me of the skirt I wore to ride in when I was young. I know it sounds funny, but I found myself becoming sexually aroused. just trying it on. I also bought a loose fitting white blouse with a scoop neckline and little rhinestones sewn onto it.

          I was nervous all week, obsessed with the idea of making my dream come true. I could think of nothing else. It seemed as though the weekend would never arrive. Saturday morning, as we drove to the woods, Gordon chatted gaily about all the work he was going to accomplish on the house. But I had other ideas. As soon as we arrived, I ran into the bedroom and changed into my cowgirl blouse and skirt. I wore no bra or panties.

          When Gordon saw me in my new outfit, he grinned. He said he loved the way the blouse and skirt looked on me. But of course, he had no idea of what it meant to me. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go riding. It’s a perfect day to see that pond I told you about, Gordon.”

          Before he had a chance to answer, I grabbed his hand and led him out to the corral. When Gunner saw us coming, he whinnied and walked toward the gate. He stood patiently ·while I fitted him with the -bridle and threw the blanket over him.

          Gordon put one foot on a fence rail and lifted himself athletically onto 9unner’s back. Then, reaching down like the prince of my dreams, he lifted me up to sit in front of him. The horse rode off confidently, accepting both of us with ease.

          I took the reins as Gordon placed his hands on my waist. Although Gunner was accustomed to select his own trails, he responded willingly to the signals that I gave him. I headed him toward the pond, leaning back against the strength of Gordon’s chest. “Hold me tighter,” I said. “It feels so good.”

          Gordon put his arms around me, caressing my belly with his fingertips. I could feel his hands stealing up to stroke the undercurves of my breasts. When he realized that I was not wearing a bra, he drew his breath in. “Naughty little cowgirl,” he said. “I wonder what you have in mind.”

          I giggled like a schoolgirl and shimmied from side to side, rubbing my backagainst him. “Isn’t this fun?” I whispered. “Just the two of us riding together around our property.”

          Gordon responded by kissing me lightly behind my ear. The touch of his lips filled my loins with desire. The day, the horse, the scenery, the ride, all came together so very perfectly. My excitement was building as I thought about the dream that I had nurtured since my teens and that I hoped was now about to be realized.

          The forest was becoming denser, the shade deepening as the sun fought vainly to penetrate the thick canopy of leaves above us. Then, as the darkness was about to become overwhelming, Gunner stepped into the clearing. For a moment we were blinded by the sudden reflection of the sun on the smooth surface of the pond.

          “Wow,” Gordon gasped. “Barrie, I think we’ve just entered Shangri-La.” I could feel his excitement. “I never imagined anything so beautiful,” he said. “And it all belongs to us.” He swung down from Gunner’s back and reached up for my hand. We walked to the edge of the pond and stood staring at it together in silence.

          “Someday we should have a picnic here,” I said. Then, taking his hand, I added, “But now let’s get back on Gunner. I want to show you something else.”

          Gordon climbed up onto the horse’s back and reached out to help me up. But, stepping on a tree stump, I straddled Gunner with my back to the horse’s neck and faced Gordon.

          My husband laughed. “Hey,” he said. “Thinking of joining the circus? You’re sitting backward.”

          “Not a circus,” I said. “But the show is just beginning.” With that, I crossed my arms in front of me and took the hem of my blouse in both hands. I gazed into Gordon’s eyes for a moment, and then stripped the blouse off over my head with a single swift movement.

          The cool air of the forest felt good against my bare breasts, and I felt my nipples harden- immediately. Gordon sighed before burying his face in the valley of my cleavage. I tangled my fingers in his hair and moved his head so that his lips were against one of my swollen nipples. I felt him suck hungrily at it, his tongue stroking gently at the sensitive flesh.

          I moaned as Gunner took a tentative step forward. The rippling muscles in his back caressed my bare vagina through the thin fabric of the saddle blanket. Gordon continued licking my breasts,
          unaware that I was naked under my skirt. As Gunner began walking out of the clearing, Gordon leaned back to watch my breasts bounce with each of the horse’s movements.

          It was exciting to see my husband stare at me that way. Languidly, I leaned back against the horse’s neck, gazing at the bulge that Gordon’s erection made in the front of his pants. He saw where I was looking and grinned. “Do ·you think we can do it on horseback?” he asked. I just smiled and lifted my skirt slowly, exposing my knees and thighs to his lustful gaze. As I raised the garment higher, I saw his penis twitch against the fabric of his trousers. Then, at once, I pulled the skirt all the way up, showing him my nakedness.

          Reaching forward, I undid his zipper and freed his huge erection from the confinement of his pants. There was a drop of moisture at its tip. “Yes, Gordon,” I said. “I think we can do it on horseback.” Gunner seemed to sense our need and stopped, wafting for his next command. I slithered toward my husband, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw my sex closer to his rigid penis. Lifting myself onto his lap, I moved my hips from side to side until my moist opening found the tip of his manhood. I felt him rock slowly, easing himself forward until he was barely inside me. A groan tore involuntarily from my throat.

          I closed my eyes and imagined that I was a teenage girl in the arms of a charming prince. The fantasy was complete. We were astride his noble charger in the woods that surrounded his castle. His strong hands were upon my shoulders, drawing me closer as his·probing member gently plunged my dewy depths. I wanted to swallow his hardness into my tunnel, but I remained passive, submitting to his strength and nobility.

          I had found the prince of my adolescent fantasies. He was about to take me, to make me his completely. As our bodies joined, I could almost see the golden crown upon his head. I never felt so fulfilled, so wanton, so complete. It was as though I had been waiting for this moment ever since that first explosion in my teen years. It was as though all of life had been nothing more than a background for my dream of love on the back of a horse.

          Inside me, there was a climax building of such intensity that at first it baflled and confused me. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. It was new. It was incredible. It was perfect. It was there. When it hit, I rocked forward furiously, aware that Gordon was exploding at precisely the same moment. All time stopped. The universe was ours alone. We filled it with our ecstasy, moaning and sobbing the sounds of our pleasure to a silent, secret forest. It was perfect. It was more than I ever could have imagined. A century later, we became aware again of our surroundings, even more beautiful now that they had been the backdrop for our shared love. Gunner was in motion, heading back to the house without any further instruction from me. He seemed to know that our visit to the forest was complete, that there was nothing more that we could take from nature that day.

          Since then, Gordon and I have made love in the forest many times. Occasionally, we bring a blanket to our little pond and make passionate love in the dazzling light of the clearing. We both feel that we have achieved erotic perfection. But I’ll never forget that wonderful day when my Prince Charming made love to me on his handsome steed. No matter what else I ever experience, I will always think of that day as the best sex I ever had.

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            Higher Education

            Sunday, November 22nd, 2015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            I looked at her in confusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            From the comer of my eye, I happened to see her nameplate on the edge of her desk. It reminded me of where I was and who I was with. I knew that I was playing with 6.re, but desire had me by the balls, and as always, it was lust over logic. Besides, in a way it was probably the danger of the situation that made it so exciting. Can you imagine what would happen to a bonehead who got caught with his pants down in the dean’s office?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            ”Fuck me,” she said again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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              I’ve seen Lamprey’s with weaker suction

              Sunday, November 22nd, 2015

              I’ve seen Lamprey’s with weaker suction

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                For N

                Sunday, November 22nd, 2015

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                  exhibsatxgirl: sweetornasty: NICOLE 45 Wow!  Words don’t…

                  Saturday, November 21st, 2015

                  sweetornasty:

                  NICOLE 45

                  Wow!  Words don’t express the joy brought to Nicole and I when we come across her pictures that someone else has taken the time to modify into something original and share online.  This is especially nice when the picture is our favorite genre of dressed and nude exposure.  mmmm Thanks so much!  We love it!  K&N

                  exhibsatxgirl:

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                    Apple Bottom

                    Saturday, November 21st, 2015

                    Apple Bottom

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