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EXQUISITE DESSERT

Thursday, July 9th, 2020

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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    WORTH WAITING FOR

    Tuesday, July 7th, 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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      DISCOVERIES

      Friday, June 26th, 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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        THE SWEET TORMENT OF ANTICIPATION

        Sunday, June 21st, 2020

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

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

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

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          MORE THAN TWO

          Monday, June 1st, 2020

          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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            A dream cum true

            Thursday, May 21st, 2020

            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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              CAMPING OUT

              Friday, May 8th, 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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                AWAKENING

                Sunday, May 3rd, 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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                  STRIPPING FOR ACTION

                  Friday, April 24th, 2020

                  Marika, twenty seven, is a candidate for a Ph.D. in mathematics at one of America’s finest universities. She looks more like a model than a mathematician, however, with a tall, shapely body and striking blond hair that hangs, soft and straight, almost to her waist. Her seductive hazel eyes gleam against the background of her creamy skin. Marika says that her best sex happened when she acted out one of her favorite fantasies soon after her husband, Alex, returned from a business trip.

                  Alex had been away at an engineering conference, and we hadn’t seen each other for almost a week. As soon as he got home, I dragged him into the bedroom and jumped on his bones. Our lovemaking was hot and fast, both of us consumed by the need to satisfy our unfulfilled desires. Afterward, we lay together for the entire evening, talking and petting and making up for lost time. Alex told me that the conference had consisted of a series of meetings and seminars that lasted from early morning right up until dinner every day. When I asked what he did after dinner, a mischievous smile crossed his face. “Well,” he answered impishly. ”One night I went to a strip show with some of the other guys. It was a hot one, too.” I was fascinated. I never admitted this to anyone before, but ever since I was a teenager, I fantasized about being a stripper in a nightclub filled with men. I guess being the center of erotic attention appeals to me. I remember, even as a young girl, I would love to walk on the beach in my teeniest bikini and feel the hungry stares of men trying to catch glimpses of my barely covered breasts or bottom.

                  For me, the thought of stripping onstage is the ultimate tum-on. All eyes would be on me, concentrating on every sensuous movement of my body. Nowadays I suppose such thoughts are regarded as un-feminist, but the idea of having a group of strange men get excited by watching me take off my clothes arouses me tremendously. It would make me feel like the sexiest woman in the world. No fantasy inflames me more than that one. I wanted to hear more about Alex’s night at the strip show. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” I prompted. “What was it like? Give me all the explicit details.” Alex seemed nervous for a moment. “You’re not jealous or anything, are you?” he asked solicitously. “Heck, no,” I said, my voice husky with excited curiosity. “I think it’s sexy.”

                  With a sigh of relief, he began. “Well, the place was called the Hot Box and it wasn’t really much. It had a small stage surrounded by mirrors, and lots of little tables with chairs. My group was lucky enough to get one of the tables up front, right next to the stage.” “You mean lucky because that gave. you a better view?” I asked. “Well, sure,” he said. “But the best part is that if a guy seated up front puts a tip on the table, the girl makes it part of her act to come up and do something special just for him. Like shaking her boobs in his face or something.” “Tell me about the girls,” I asked. “How old were they? Were any of them my age?” “Oh yeah,” he answered, his eyes gleaming with remembered lust. “They ranged from their early twenties to early thirties, I’d say. And every one of them was good-looking. Some tall, some short, some with cute little titties, some with big bouncers. But all with great shapes.” My curiosity was increasing. “What did they do?” I asked breathlessly.

                  “When they’re not dancing, they wait on tables, wearing real skimpy outfits,” he explained. “Mostly just bras and panties. Then, when it’s their turn to dance, they step into a little room to get ready, and they come out onstage.” “Do they wear striptease costumes?” I asked. “With feathers and stuff like that?” ‘ “Most just wear regular clothes,” Alex answered. “But real sexy. Like maybe a short denim skirt and bikini top. Usually each girl dances to three records. By the end of the first record, she’s got all her clothes off except her underwear. They all wear little G-string panties and lacy bras.” I was becoming very aroused, picturing myself doing the things my husband was describing. I wanted to hear more, but I was afraid my voice would shake with excitement if I spoke. So I waited patiently for him to tell it in his own time.

                  “During the second record, the girl removes her bra and dances around showing off her bare breasts. I always like that part. Then, just before the record ends, she takes off her panties. At this.point, the guys usually go wild, whistling and howling when she exposes her pussy. Lots of the men throw dollar bills on the stage. One of the girls had her· pubic hair shaved into the shape of a heart. The guys must have tossed thirty or forty bucks at her when she took off her panties and showed that bush to them.” I felt like a spectator at a porno show. “When the third record plays,” he continued, “she dances and gyrates totally nude. During the dance, she’ll lie on the floor and spread her legs wide to give everybody a good view of her open beaver. Or she’ll lie back and throw her legs over her shoulders so they can see her ass, too.” I could see it in my mind as Alex talked about it. I would be naked while a hundred men cheered and threw money at me. In gratitude, I would open my thighs to reveal my most private places to them. I was getting hotter by the minute. “There was one girl in particular,” he went on. “She had big beautiful tits and thick cherry nipples. One of the boys in my group fell in love with her. He kept putting dollar bills on the table for her to come and pick up. Each time she did, she would get real close to him. Once, she put her foot up on the table so that her pussy was right in front of his face. He almost fell off his chair.

                  ”After that, he laid a ten-dollar bill on the table. When she came over to get that one, she pressed her tits against his face for a long time. First she buried him in the valley between them. Then she shook slowly from side to side so that her nipples brushed across his nose and lips. Later that night, he went home with her.” “Really?” I asked, incredulous and captivated. “Are the girls hookers?” “No,” he answered. “I think it’s really unusual for one of them to go out with a customer. It might even be illegal. She just must have really liked him. It was the last night, so I didn’t get to talk to him and find out what happened. But I’m sure they spent the night screwing.”

                  For a moment he fell wistfully silent. Then, in a soft voice, he mused, “You know, I’ve always fantasized about going home with one of those girls after the show. Not that I’d ever do it,” he added hastily, as though fearful that I might need reassuring. “But I guess every man in the place imagines the same thing. After she dances for all the guys who paid the price of admission, she goes home and strips privately for me. I’m sure that in bed they’re. just like any other woman, but somehow there’s a special sexy mystique about a stripper.”

                  He was silent for a moment, and then asked, “Does my little fantasy upset you?” “No,” I said in a sultry voice. “You’re not the only one who has fantasies. Sometimes I imagine myself taking my clothes off and dancing nude in front of a group of men.” Our conversation was making me horny-so horny that I couldn’t talk anymore. I just wanted to make love again. Shutting the light, I climbed on top of him. His penis was long and stiff, slipping easily into my lubricated vagina. Afterward, we both drifted off into a peaceful, satisfied sleep. Alex left for work the next morning while I was still sleeping. I must have been dreaming about the things we discussed. The first thought I had when I woke up was a way to act out the fantasy that Alex and I had secretly shared.

                  By the time he came home from work, I was ready for him. I had set up a small table in the living room with a kitchen chair beside it. I greeted him at the door wearing cut-off jeans that showed the globes of my ass and a tank T-shirt that was two sizes too small for me. “Welcome to the Hot Box,” I said, holding the door for him. “Right this way. Your table is waiting.” . Alex looked my body up and down as I led him to the table. I loved the expression he wore. It was not that of a man looking at his wife. He stared at me, bewildered, as I placed a glass before him and poured beer from a bottle. Setting the bottle beside the glass, I said, “I’ll collect for it later. It’s my turn to dance.”

                  Flipping a switch on the stereo, I began playing records that I had selected earlier that day. When Rod Stewart started singing “Hot legs, you’re wearing me out,” I went into my dance. At first a little embarrassed, I danced with my eyes closed. But as I began to imagine that I was being watched by a roomful of men, my embarrassment changed to excitement. I could feel my nipples getting hard under my clothes. I opened my eyes and looked directly at Alex. He was staring at me as if seeing me for the first time. Pulling the tank top over my head, I removed it seductively. Alex hooted, making a catcall sound in a high raucous voice. “Yeah,” he hollered. “Will you guys look at that!” He seemed to know what I was thinking. Tossing the tank aside, I pictured a roomful of little tables, each with a cluster of horny men sitting around it. They were all admiring my body as I pranced around the room, arching my back to make the flesh of my breasts overflow the cups of my bra. I bumped and grinded with my hips, caressing my own body lightly, running my hands over my bare belly and waist, stroking the bulging fabric of my bra with my palms, pinching my nipples where they tented the lacy material that barely covered them.

                  When my fingers undid the button at the top of my cutoffs, Alex whistled and stamped his feet. I displayed myself to one side of the room and then the other, imagining that dozens of men were staring in fascination as the descending zipper exposed a widening triangle of white lace panties. Turning my back, I began pushing the snug-fitting shorts down over my hips and buttocks. By the time the first record was about over, I had slid the denim garment past my thighs and calves. As the music ended, I stepped out of the shorts and pirouetted slowly to show myself to Alex and, the roomful of cheering men. Alex applauded and shouted, the sounds increasing my excitement. Standing, he threw a crumpled dollar bill onto the floor in front of me.

                  When I bent forward to pick up the tip, I knew that my breasts were spilling out of my bra, almost completely exposed. I could feel the gaze of men I didn’t even know focusing on my burgeoning cleavage and staring at my partially bared bosom. I wanted them to see all of me. Tina Turner began wailing the words to “Nutbush City,” and I really threw myself into the dance. I thrust my pelvis forward and back in rhythm to the pounding tempo, aware that the dark shadow of my own “nut bush” was showing through the flimsy fabric of my panties. As soon as Alex hollered, “Show us your tits,” I unsnapped the clasp at the front of my bra.

                  The undergarment fell open, its stuffed cups pulled apart by the dancing sway of my breasts. It remained in place, however, covering my bouncing globes. I rolled my pelvis in a circular motion, at the same time caressing my breasts with my hands through the material that shielded them from view. I drew back the lace, slowly revealing the smooth skin of my milky breasts and finally showing Alex and the boys the hard pink caps of my turgid nipples. I was so aroused that I felt dampness seeping from my vulva to saturate the taut crotchband of the panties, which were all I had on. I turned my back to the audience and bent forward, peeking back at Alex from between my spread legs. I ran my fingers up my thighs until they were stroking lightly over the · roundness of my bottom. As the record neared its end, I stood and turned to face Alex again, ready, at last, to draw the panties down and show off my heated passion place.

                  Noticing that Alex had placed a dollar bill on the edge of his table, I danced toward it, looking directly into his eyes and wiggling my fanny and shoulders in his direction. His sight was riveted to my swaying breasts as I moved closer and closer to where he sat. I could see the front of his pants stretching tight over his swollen organ. With one hand, I took the proffered tip while, with the other, I stripped the panties from my body. Lifting the damp wisp of lace with my toe, I kicked it into my husband’s lap. Alex hooted again, holding the panties against his face and moaning dramatically. I imagined that he was the envy of every man in the place.

                  I stepped back just as the third record started playing. When Mick Jagger’s voice enunciated, “She’s a honky-tonk woman,” I dropped to the floor on my belly and lifted my backside high in the air. I knew that Alex and the other men could see not only my ass but also the reddened slit of my vagina peeking back at them. I felt the exciting impact of a wadded dollar bill striking my splayed buttocks. Rolling onto my back, I raised my legs in the air, spreading them slowly to reveal the puckered lips of my sex. As I parted my thighs yet farther, I felt my heated womanhood opening to expose the pink inner membranes, now inflamed with my rising lust. With my hands, I touched my inner thighs, stroking my way to the edge of my bush and then running my fingers lightly through the curls; When I saw Alex place a ten-dollar bill on the table in front of him, I realized that he wanted me. I had never dated a customer before, but there was something about this sexy stranger that really appealed to me. I knew nothing about him, but I had stripped and spread my legs for him. Now he was wildly hungry for my body. The game I was playing in my head turned me on even more. He openly desired me. I knew his mind was filled with fantasies of taking me to bed after the show. Like all the other men in the room, he probably thought deep down that it was · nothing more than an impossible dream. But I could make it come true for him.

                  I rose from the floor and danced toward the fascinated customer until my bare skin was only inches from his hungry eyes. With deliberate movements, I placed one foot on the edge of his table, bringing my sex so close to his face that he could feel its heat. I thrust forward and back with my hips, causing the puffy lips to open and close before his hypnotized gaze. Taking the ten-dollar bill from the table, I stroked my body with it, tracing little circles around my nipples and trailing sensuous lines across my belly. Dragging it over my hairy mound, I nudged a comer of it lightly at my emerging clitoris. Alex groaned softly, and I knew that it was no act. My performance was obviously having a powerful effect on him. It looked like his trousers would burst from the pressure of his erection against the constraining cloth.

                  I wanted him as much as he wanted me. Without ceremony, I pulled him to his feet and quickly unzipped his pants, freeing his swollen member. Stripping him from the waist down, I pushed him back into the chair and lowered myself onto his lap, facing him. I stroked his face with my breasts, rotating my groin over his throbbing erection. I could feel the tip of his hard-on grazing the insides of my legs as it reached for the softness of my feminine opening. Flexing my knees, I lowered myself farther until he pressed hungrily against my moistly puckered membranes. I felt him entering me, penetrating my vagina by exquisitely gradual degrees. At last I rested against his lap, his penis buried completely within me. His hands grasped my buttocks forcefully, rocking me up and down as his rigid organ pis.toned furiously inside me. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and twined my legs around his waist.

                  Alex’s muscles tightened as he rose to a standing position. My body was welded to his, our pelvises thrusting together in a frenzy of passion. My back undulated to drive his penis in and o~t of me with long, agonizingly gradual strokes. I felt the edge of the table against my buttocks and allowed Alex to place me gingerly on its surface. I reclined against the tabletop and unlocked my ankles. Lifting my legs in the air, I placed my heels against his shoulders to allow maximum penetration. He thrust forward, plunging into the tunnel of my womanhood. The penetration was deeper and more forceful than any I had ever felt before. His testicles slapped against my upturned bottom each time he buried his probing organ within me. I felt the hairs of his scrotum tickling the sensitive tissues of my femininity.

                  I was rising to a stupendous climax. I wanted to hold it back, to keep the tension building as long as I possibly could. But I knew it was hopeless. I was being carried off on a wave of feeling that took complete control of my responses. I had no choice but to yield to an orgasm that threatened to tear my loins apart if I resisted any longer. “Oh, God,” I screamed. “Alex, I’m going to come.” My announcement took my husband over the top. I felt his semen gush into me the moment I articulated the erotic promise. At the same instant, my orgasm struck, drowning me in a whirling sea of ecstasy. Our juices merged as our bodies coupled on the little nightclub table. We bucked and thrust together until every drop had been drained from us. Later, we found ourselves in bed, repeating the contact of our bodies. We moved about on the mattress, each of us straddling and riding the other before changing position to be straddled and ridden. We made love through the night until our exhaustion left us in a state of panting unconsciousness. In the morning, we made love again before our eyes_ were fully open. Alex and I still talk about that wonderful night when I stripped for him and an imaginary audience. The weird mix of reality and fantasy held us both in thrall, maximizing our excitement. We agree that it was the best sex we ever had, but we both know that, as long as we are willing to act out each other’s fantasies, there will be even better sex to come.

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                    MIXED DOUBLES

                    Friday, April 17th, 2020

                    At thirty-six, Sid appears ten years younger. His small wiry body is agile and firm. His brown eyes are clear and sparkling. His hair is dark and expensively groomed. Sid, an investment broker, spends two or three days a week on the golf course, where he conducts a substantial portion of his business. His petite wife, Emily, thirty-four, is a licensed interior designer. Sid says that he and Emily had their best sex ever when they reunited with their old college flames.

                    Emily and I give a lot of parties. My business pretty much requires it. People let me invest millions of dollars for them. Let’s face it, nobody likes to trust a stranger with that kind of money. So I’ve always thought it a good practice to make my clients think of me not just as a broker but as a friend, too. When we bought our house, we looked for a place that would be right for entertaining. The dining room seats thirty or forty people comfortably, and in warm weather, our parties usually spill over onto the patio. We’re on top of a hill, with no neighbors in the immediate vicinity, so we never have to worry about noise and we can have live bands whenever we choose to. On this particular night, there were about twenty couples, all laughing and drinking and dancing and having a good time. Emily and I were taking turns answering the door to welcome latecomers. It was my tum when the Baxters arrived. There was another couple with them.

                    “I hope you don’t mind,” Jim Baxter said, shaking my hand and moving off to one side. ”Bruce and Lois dropped in on us as we were getting ready to leave for your party. When we told them where we were going, they insisted on coming along. Bruce says that you all knew each other back in college.” “That’s right,” I answered, shaking hands with Bruce and kissing Lois on the cheek. “We haven’t seen each other in years. Thanks for bringing them, Jim.” I really was glad to see them. Actually, we were more than old college buddies. Although Bruce had majored in psychology while I was working toward my MBA, we both belonged to the same fraternity and saw quite a bit of each other. But there was more to it than that.

                    Bruce and my wife, Emily, had dated for almost two years and were practically engaged at one point. Emily told me that the engagement was the reason their relationship ended. Dating had been fine, but when they got serious about marriage, she realized that Bruce was not the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Lois and I, on the other hand, had never gotten serious about anything, although we had lived together for about nine months. Neither of us had ever really expected our relationship to last. It was never more than one of those college things that seemed right at the time. That had been good enough for us. Lois and I had broken up on good terms. Soon afterward, she started going out with Bruce. After college we sort of drifted apart. Then, a year or so later, I heard that Bruce and Lois got married. I had first met Emily when she was engaged to Bruce, but we didn’t really get to know each other until about four years ago. It was quite a coincidence. I called an agency to have my apartment redecorated, and Emily was the decorator they sent. We recognized each other right away and started talking about all the people we used to know. Well, there just wasn’t time in the workday for all the catching up we had to do, so I asked her to have dinner with me. We hit it off immediately, and I guess you could say we’ve been having dinner together ever since. We were married just a few months later.

                    After greeting Bruce and Lois, I led them through the crowd in search of Emily. She was surprlsed and glad to see them. We were so busy with our other guests during the course of the evening, though, that neither of us had much time to spend with our old friends. Later, as the crowd began to thin, Emily suggested that Bruce and Lois stay after everyone else was gone so that we could all get reacquainted. We sat on the patio together, sharing several bottles of wine and bringing one another up to date. They were living on the East Coast and had come to town for Bruce to attend a conference. He was a psychologist with a successful practice and had written several pop-psych books that placed him somewhat in demand as a speaker. His age was showing a bit, but Lois looked young and ravishing. While her husband cured the neuroses of society, she spent her time tanning, swimming, and exercising her trim body.

                    As I looked at her, I found myself remembering the old days when we would lie in bed together making love for hours at a time. I guess I was undressing her in my. head as the four of us chatted and got tipsy. When Emily suggested that we all soak in the Jacuzzi, it sounded like a great idea to me. Lois asked if she could borrow a bathing suit. “What for?” I said. “We’re all grown-ups, and none of us will be seeing anything we haven’t seen before. So why bother with suits?”

                    I don’t know what would have happened if we hadn’t all consumed as much wine as we did, but as it was, everybody found my suggestion appealing. Within minutes, we were all nude and climbing into the bubbling spa. Bruce stared openly at my wife, appraising her naked body without pretense. “Emily,” he said, sitting on the concrete bench in the spa. “You look terrific. You really haven’t changed a bit.” Emily smiled and sort of pranced in the churning water. “Except,” he added thoughtfully, “I think your tits might be sagging a little.” Emily looked challenged. “What?” she sputtered. “My tits don’t sag at all. They’re just as firm as they ever were.” Stepping up in front of where Bruce was sitting, she pushed her shoulders back to thrust her breasts forward. “Here,” she said. “Feel for yourself.”

                    Before I had a chance to react, Bruce boldly cupped my wife’s breasts in his hands, squeezing gently as if to measure their heft. I could see her pink nipples hardening. Without letting go, he said, “No, you’re right. These tits are every bit as firm as the last time I held them.” I didn’t exactly know why, but I felt my cock stirring. Still holding Emily’s boobs, Bruce said, “Most psychologists believe that there is no jealousy in true love.” Turning . suddenly to me, he asked, “Well, Sid. ls your love for Emily true? Or is it making you jealous to see me fondling her tits?” A worried look passed across Emily’s face, but she just stood there allowing him to handle her. “Not at all,” I answered. “In fact, I’m finding it rather exciting.” I looked at Emily and saw her smile with relief. “But do you practice what you preach?” I asked. “What if I felt Lois’s ass? Would that bother you?”

                    As I spoke, I moved in front of where Lois was standing and looked her in. the eye. Her expression gave me permission. Reaching around her, I took her buttocks in my hands and stroked them gently. My cock became rock hard instantly as I caressed my former girlfriend while her husband and my wife looked on.

                    “It doesn’t bother me at all,” Bruce answered. I could see that he also had a hard-on. “After all, you probably screwed her a thousand times before she started going out with me. What difference would it make if you did it again now?” At his words, Lois reached down and grabbed my cock. “I’d love it,” she said. “I’d love to fuck you again. For old times’ sake. That is, if it would be all right with Emily.” I knew my wife well enough to recognize the look of desire passing across her face. It was obvious that she was enjoying the touch of Bruce’s fingers, which had now moved to her nipples where they were tracing little circles. It was also obvious that she was intrigued by the idea of watching me and Lois get it on.

                    I realized that if I did it with Lois, I would, in effect, be giving my wife permission to do it with Bruce. But I did not find the thought at all distasteful. What Bruce said made a lot of sense to me. They did plenty of fucking when they were engaged. I always knew that, of course, and it never was a problem for me. In fact, occasionally I used to imagine the two of them together, and the image always turned me on. I like to think of myself as open-minded where sex is concerned. I don’t have a problem with jealousy, and as far as I know, neither does Emily. What we know about each other’s past relationships never interferes with Emily’s feelings for me or with my feelings for her. Why should it matter if she and her former lover had sex again now? Actually, the thought of watching Emily with Bruce while I did it with Lois was very exciting.

                    It must have had the same effect on Emily. Her husky voice could barely be heard over the sound of the Jacuzzi as she said, “Yes. I love the idea. Let’s have an orgy.” The moment the words left Emily’s lips, Lois began stroking my erection up and down. Having received Emily’s consent, I abandoned myself to sex with Bruce’s wife. Clutching the cheeks of her ass, I pulled her a8ainst me until the tip of my dick was grazing the patch of curly hair around her pussy.

                    “Yes,” she whispered, placing her lips against my ear and running her tongue over it. She moved her hips from side to side, rubbing her pubis against my erect penis and pressing her breasts tightly against my chest. I could feel her hard nipples boring into me like diamond-tipped drills. My fingers began searching between the round cheeks of her ass for the tight little crevasse that I knew nestled in the valley. When I found it, I nudged lightly at it. Lois always was sensitive back there and I always knew that I could whip her up to feverish passion by caressing her between the cheeks.

                    She was groaning with complete lack of inhibition, her eyes shut tight and her mouth wide open. Allowing the heated water to buoy her up, she wrapped her legs around mine and thrust her pelvis toward me, all the while chewing and nibbling at my ear. “Yes,” she moaned. “Put your cock in me. Fuck me. Just like you used to.” Her words sent chills through my pulsating body, increasing my excitement. I humped forward, aiming my throbbing cock for her opening. When I felt it encounter the lips o( her pussy, I hesitated for a moment, savoring the pleasure of anticipation. “Put it in me,” she commanded, her voice becoming louder. “Put your big cock in me while Emily and Bruce watch. I want them to see it. I want them to see you fucking me.”

                    I had to tighten all the muscles in my groin to keep from coming instantly. For a few moments, I had been lost, so absorbed in the ecstasy of sexual contact with Lois that I forgot where we were and who we were with. Her words brought me back to a reality that carried my arousal to a peak. Looking over Lois’s shoulder, I saw my wife in the embrace of her former fiance. They were kissing, their tongues probing deep in each other’s mouths. One of Bruce’s arms was around Emily’s waist, pulling her against him, while his other hand played with her breasts, gently pinching and rolling the nipples. Emily’s hands were between their bodies. Although I couldn’t see them, it was clear that she was holding and rubbing his cock beneath the bubbly water. Emily’s eyes were open, staring at Lois and me. Without making a sound, she moved her lips, mouthing at me the words, “Fuck her.” I was so excited I thought I’d have a heart attack. My throbbing dick found its mark and was beginning to force its way between the resilient lips of Lois’s pussy. She groaned,· exaggerating a bit for dramatic effect, acutely aware of Emily’s staring eyes upon us. “Yes,” Lois hissed as my cock slowly entered her. “Yes, you’re in me. Oooh, you’re inside me. Oooh, Bruce, watch us. He’s fucking me. Sid is fucking me.” “I know,” Bruce answered, his breathing labored. “I’m watching you. I see everything. Oh, yes, Sid, do it. I’m going to do it to Emily now. May I, Emily?” “Yes,” Emily responded, almost singing the word. “Yes, Bruce, put it in me.”

                    I was all the way inside Lois now, our bodies grinding together in the swirling water of the bubbling spa. With her legs wrapped around mine, I turned so that we could watch our spouses as we plunged in intercourse. I saw Bruce drive his hips forward and heard Emily groan. I couldn’t see their genitals, but I was sure that he had penetrated my wife the way I was penetrating Lois. The air was filled with sex. It mingled with the steamy vapors rising from the churning whirlpool to create the erotic atmosphere of a sultry swamp. The music of our moans and sobs was a symphony of desire. It was like an orgy at a public bath in ancient Rome.

                    I felt the membranes of Lois’s pussy cling lovingly to my thrusting staff, but my pleasure far exceeded what resulted from the gentle friction. There was something so thrilling that I can’t even describe in the sensation of fucking another man’s wife while he and my wife watched. Seeing the two of them going at it at the same time is what really drove me to the top. I knew exactly how it felt to be inside Emily’s pussy and I could imagine what Bruce was experiencing. My wife’s facial expressions told me exactly what she was doing with the muscles of her pelvis. The fascination of watching her do it to another man brought me to a new high. Sex with Emily is totally different from sex with Lois. When I’m inside Emily, her vaginal tunnel caresses my cock continually, trailing long, soft waves of pleasure over its entire length without stopping. Lois’s pussy seemed to grab at me, squeezing my dick in spurts, With little rest periods in between, each constricting throb more powerful than the last. Fucking Lois and watching Emily with Bruce, I was able to experience both lovemaking styles simultaneously. To magnify the excitement, I realized that all of us were sharing these thoughts and sensations. Emily and Lois were probably comparing my cock to Bruce’s, just as Bruce and I were comparing their vulvas.

                    I watched Emily’s body undulate as she impaled herself rhythmically on Bruce’s erection. Her legs were wrapped around his hips. I could see the muscles of his upper thighs straining as he struggled to support her weight while thrusting in and out of her. Emily’s eyes were open, her gaze alternating between Bruce and us. When I saw them begin to glaze over, I knew that her orgasm was approaching. She seemed to retreat into a private world of erotic ecstasy. I realized that each drive of Bruce’s plunging hard-on brought her closer to sexual climax. For the first time I felt a pang of jealousy at the thought that any man besides me could bring her that much pleasure. Then she started making sounds that told me her orgasm was beginning, and somehow my jealousy drowned in the erotic flood.

                    The sights and sounds and sensations were all uniting to bring me to sexual completion. Lois was panting and sobbing in my ear, thoroughly aroused at witnessing the release of Emily’s passion. It had been so long since she and I had made love that I didn’t know· how to read her signs. Heroically, I struggled to hold back my onslaught, to be sure that Lois was satisfied before I let go. But the surge was much too strong to be controlled. I couldn’t wait any longer.

                    Like a rocket smashing the sound barrier, my orgasm burst forth through my feeble resistance. For a moment I lost all awareness, conscious only of the streams of fluid that I was pumping deep into Lois’s hungry loins. I returned to my surroundings in time to realize that all four of us were coming together. Lois’s cries blended symphonically with Emily’s; my gasping breaths harmonized with the grunting intonations of Bruce’s masculine voice. The heated water of the spa seemed to melt us all down into a single seething organism instead of four individual beings.

                    Once again, I lost consciousness of reality. I drifted off on a plane of erotic fulfillment until, without quite knowing how I got there, I found myself sitting in the bubbling water with my wife on my lap. Looking across the churning pool, I saw Lois resting in her husband’s arms. We were all back where we belonged. . Later that night when Emily and I were alone, we talked about the events of the evening. Emily found the whole episode very exciting, but admitted that she too experienced some jealousy at times. We agreed that although it might have been the best sex we ever had, it was the kind of thing you do maybe once in a lifetime.

                    Since then we’ve continued to have a great life together. Sex is always beautiful for us, and neither of us ever wants to make love with anybody else. But every now and then, especially when we’re having sex in the Jacuzzi, we talk about the night we got together with our old partners and had our little orgy.

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