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Archive for November, 2015

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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    APRIL’S SECRET DREAM

    Friday, November 27th, 2015

    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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      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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        A dream cum true

        Sunday, November 22nd, 2015

        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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          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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            Fresh out the shower…

            Sunday, November 22nd, 2015

            Fresh out the shower…

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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

                For N

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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

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                    She’s a PORN STAR, but to me she’s a STAR.

                    Saturday, November 21st, 2015

                    She’s a PORN STAR, but to me she’s a STAR.

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