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WORTH WAITING FOR

Monday, April 8th, 2019

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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    Interracial Taboo

    Wednesday, March 27th, 2019

    Charlotte is recently divorced for the second time. She is five-foot-six, with bright and sparkling blue eyes. In her younger years, she was a high fashion model whose face graced magazines all over the world. The beauty of her features, the shimmering tones in her soft blonde hair, and the well tended firmness of her slender body continue to testify to her illustrious career. In recalling the best sex she ever had, Charlotte goes back more than twenty years to a night in Paris.

    I was born to a wealthy New Orleans family with an old and respected name. Growing up during the forties and fifties, I developed some very strong prejudices. I believed that established families with old money and a heritage that was part of the South’s rich history were really the Lord’s chosen.

    My early education instilled in me the belief that God had created five castes of people. First, there were the privileged class, to which my family belonged. We had been wealthy since the days of slavery, and no one else was our equal. Then there were the nouveau riche with new money that we regarded as less than clean. Below them were the middle-class people. Almost at the bottom were the working-class people, whom we thought of as white trash. And then there were the blacks. It took me a very long time to grow up and stop thinking like a rich little Southern fool.

    Daddy didn’t think that a girl of my position should soil herself with a college education, so he sent me to a finishing school. Although it was an all-girls’ institution, it was closely associated with a prominent military academy located nearby. I had dozens of young men lining up to beg me for dates. Although I never formed any serious attachments, by the time I was twenty I had slept with several of them. It would be false modesty for me to deny that I was pretty.

    Daddy believed that I was pretty enough to be on the cover of a magazine. He always said that a highborn girl shouldn’t have a real occupation, but modeling was different. He arranged an interview with an advertising agency owned by one of his friends. They liked me and introduced me to a modeling agent who managed my career. I never got involved in the frenzied rush from one shoot to another like most models do, but I did work on carefully selected assignments.

    I was only twenty-two when my agent called to say that I was going to Paris to pose for the cover of a major fashion magazine. I was mildly excited. When he added that the photographer would be Maurice Jourdan, however, I was beside myself. I could have gone to Paris any time I wanted, but the opportunity of being photographed by Maurice Jourdari was unique.

    Among the photographic artists of the fashion world, Maurice Jourdan was held in the highest esteem. He was generally recognized as the best in the business. Combined with his rare talent, he had a well-known philosophy.

    Jourdan had gone on record as saying that every woman has her own special quality, which he called her “enigmatic essence.” A photographer, he said, must first. find it. Then he
    must study it. Then and only then could he hope to capture it on film. A Jourdan shoot took longer than most, because he insisted on spending time getting to know his model before he would consider taking her picture. Everyone agreed that it was worth the extra expense, however, just to have Maurice Jourdan’s name associated with the project.

    When I arrived at the Paris hotel, there was a sense of commotion in the air and a general feeling of eagerness. The lobby was filled with people waiting to meet the celebrity. My agent advised me to rest in my suite of rooms .until the fuss settled down.

    When the limo brought Jourdan to the hotel, I wouldn’t have been able to get near him anyway. There were paparazzi all over, cameras flashing everywhere. Writers from fashion magazines published all over the world were pushing through the crowds in hopes of getting an interview with this talented artist of the lens.

    I waited expectantly in my suite for the message that Mr. Jourdan was ready to meet with me in the hotel restaurant. When my agent escorted me into the room, Maurice stood up to greet me. I was shocked. The last thing in the world I expected to see was a black man. The photographer was tall and very slim, with black eyes and hair. His skin was the color of coal. I did my best to maintain my composure as he pulled a chair out for me.

    I was startled when he introduced himself. I never anticipated hearing a black man speak in anything but an uneducated, down-home manner. Jourdan’s exquisite French accent made him sound charming and refined. Nevertheless, I felt very uncomfortable, at first, having a conversation with him over a table in a restaurant.

    According to everything I was brought up to believe, all black men lived with the dream of some day taking a white woman to bed. Every time he looked at me, I was certain that he was undressing me in his mind. As our conversation progressed, however, I realized that this wasn’t so. He was studying me, looking for my enigmatic essence.

    When I spoke, he stared deep into my eyes. At one point, he even reached across the table and lightly touched my cheek with his fingertips. I think it was the first time I ever felt a black man’s hand on me. By now, I had recovered from my initial discomfort enough to realize that his interest was strictly professional. I forced myself to show my good breeding by not drawing back in horror.

    Although our exchange was professional, somewhere inside I realized that there was a streak of sensuality running through it. His voice was soft and seductive, suggestive of clandestine rendezvous in opulent surroundings. In part, his photographic genius came from his genuine love for women.

    Every flash of his eyes and every syllable that rolled off his tongue made this clear. Yet there was nothing crude or improper about his manner. He was frank in his appreciation of femininity and completely honest in saying that he found beauty in every woman.

    I tried hard to concentrate on the job we were there to do, but I couldn’t help daydreaming about sexual intimacies with him. Strange as it was, I found him sexually attractive. Although this was contrary to everything I had been brought up to believe, my upbringing was partially responsible for it.

    From the time I was old enough to know the difference between girls and boys, I was taught that it was taboo for white girls to have anything to do with black boys. I was trained to believe that the only thing any black male ever thought about was having sex with a white female. In a hundred different ways, I learned to think of black men as sexcrazed animals, with lust always on their minds.

    My training made it impossible for me to sit across a table from this black man without thinking about sex. My head was so awash in erotic imagery that I’m afraid I remember very little of what we talked about. I do recall that as we got up from the table, he said, “You are very beautiful, with a lovely essence. I look forward to working with you. We will start shooting tomorrow morning at nine sharp.”

    I spent the following day outdoors, posing in front of sights that· the world associates with Paris. Working with Maurice was incredible. He knew exactly what he wanted from a model and had a special way of getting it. Before I knew it, the day was over and we were riding together back to the hotel. As I got out of the limo, Maurice said, “I’ll let you know when the photos are ready.”

    That evening I was alone in my suite when the phone rang. It was Maurice saying that the pictures were ready and asking whether he could come and show them to me. A few minutes later he was at my door.

    We sat together on the sofa in the sitting room looking at the proofs. They were simply amazing. The face in the pictures was mine, but it managed to convey a personality that seemed foreign to me. The woman standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in a high-fashion gown was the personification of sexuality. Eroticism emanated from every pose. The angle of a shoulder, the tilt of the head, the droop of an eyelid all combined to project a sense of lust and a promise of its fulfillment.

    I was so excited by what I saw that almost half an hour passed before I remembered that I was alone in a hotel suite with a black man. By then it was too late. Maurice had conquered me with his vision of my essence. I couldn’t help but surrender to him when he stroked my hair for a moment and then embraced me. His lips were ·soft against mine. His.exploring fingers thrilled my hungry body.

    Although it violated everything I believed, I knew I wanted him. I wanted to feel him touching me and I wanted to touch him. I wanted to expose my body to the appreciation of his gaze, and I wanted to stare hungrily at his. I sensed his devotion to the erotic and I longed to yield to it. He was a master at lovemaking as he was a master of his art. Every grazing stroke of his fingertips brought me closer to submission.

    Through it all, I was acutely aware that he was black. I can’t say that it no longer mattered. On the contrary, it seemed to make the entire episode even more exciting. Our contact was forbidden, even though it was exquisite. I felt that I was discovering secrets that no other white woman on the face of the earth had ever discovered before.

    In a daze, I let him lead me to the bedroom, where we undressed and fondled each other boldly and freely. Although I had been with other men, no one ever touched me as softly or as sensuously as he did. I had never before reached the heights of pleasure to which he brought me. Every move, every kiss, every stroke was uniquely tailored to my special needs.

    When at last he mounted and entered me, I felt my whole body opening to him. As he filled me with the substance of his masculinity, I wrapped myself around him. I was his. For the moment, he was my master. I presented him with my mind and soul as well as my body. My senses submitted to his will, prepared to obey him absolutely. When his movements demanded my orgasm, I gave it to him. We made love until the sun outside our window began lighting the damp Parisian streets.

    In the morning over room-service coffee, I asked Maurice to tell me what he had found to be my enigmatic essence. He said it was my unceasing sexuality. He said that sex would always be part of everything I did, part of every gesture I made; that eroticism would accompany the movement of my hand when I stirred sugar into my tea and would drive my car when I stepped on the accelerator.

    In the years that followed, I came to fully appreciate how correct Maurice’s judgment had been. He saw something in me that I had never seen in myself. He taught me two important lessons that night.

    The first was the truth about my sensual nature. By showing it to me, he taught me to see the erotic aspect in every human contact. I· learned to banish shame from my existence and to dedicate myself to the fulfillment of my sexual destiny.

    The second lesson was that the real differences in men do not lie in their skin color. I have been married twice and have had many lovers. Maurice was the most perfect sex mate I have ever known. The reason wasn’t just physical. Although he was black, his body was like any other man’s. His penis wasn’t bigger or harder or thicker, as I always imagined a black man’s would be. His l~st wasn’t bestial or base, as I had been taught to expect.

    What made Maurice special was his passion for sex and his genuine love and respect for all women. This made the photos that he took of me the best I’ve ever seen. And it made our sex the best I ever had.

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      SEEING AND BEING SEEN

      Monday, March 25th, 2019

      No race of creatures can exist unless it is endowed with a desire for reproduction. In order to strengthen this desire in humans, Nature decorated our reproductive organs with tufts of curling hair and splashes of dramatic color to make them particularly interesting. In addition, our brains were wired with circuits that excite us upon seeing another’s naked body or knowing that another is looking at ours. Humans are not the only animals on Earth that have been blessed in these ways. Baboons wear bright colors to call attention to their genitals. Female goats who want sex wave their tails repeatedly so that the sight of their distended pudenda will attract males. When animals see other animals having intercourse, they may become so aroused that they are driven to a frenzy of violent sexual activity themselves.

      Prohibitions against public sex are common in human societies. Some analysts claim that these rules exist because of fears that such displays will excite bystanders to the point of uncontrollable eroticism. In addition to disrupting the social order, there is the danger that this will interfere with productivity and promote physical aggression. As a result, we are trained, from the time of our births, to believe that sex should happen only behind closed doors and shuttered windows. We learn to call our sex organs “private parts” and to regard people who display them as perverts or even criminals. We have laws that prohibit the exposure of the breasts and regulate the size and shape of bikinis worn on public beaches.

      Most people can live comfortably with these rules. For some, however, the desire to see and be seen is a powerful erotic stimulant. When faced with the opportunity to observe others engaging in sex, they seize it without hesitation. When given the occasion to exhibit their own sexuality, they jump at the chance. These experiences are so unusual that those who have known them frequently declare that they were the best sex they ever had.

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        BALLING ON THE COURT

        Saturday, March 23rd, 2019

        sexy tight white skirt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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          MORE THAN TWO

          Monday, March 18th, 2019

          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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            MIXED DOUBLES

            Monday, March 11th, 2019

            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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              EXQUISITE DESSERT

              Monday, March 11th, 2019

              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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                A dream cum true

                Friday, March 1st, 2019

                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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                  LAS VEGAS OUTCALL

                  Saturday, February 23rd, 2019

                  Harriet and her husband, Randy, successfully operate their own business, manufacturing and selling mannequins for store window displays. Harriet, thirty-one, has soft black hair and big blue eyes. She stands five feet eight inches tall, her rounded breasts and hips giving her body the sensuous softness that inspired Randy to create their high1y salable full-figured mannequins. Although Randy’s hands produce the product, Harriet is the brain behind the business, in charge of marketing, advertising, selling, and everything else that needs to be done. Harriet says that they had their best sex a few months ago while celebrating an important sale that she had made to a department store chain.

                  Randy was so excited when I told him about the deal that he grabbed one of the mannequins and danced her around the studio. Then he started dancing with me. “Let’s take a few days off,” he said. “We can afford it now. Let’s celebrate and go to Vegas.”

                  We had been there once before and really enjoyed it. It seemed like the kind of place where dreams just might come true. The casinos are open twenty four hours a day and they don’t even have clocks, so you never know what time it is and the fun never has to end. The idea sounded great to me. I got on the phone and booked us a flight for that very afternoon. Four hours later we were stepping out of a cab on the Las Vegas Strip. We settled into our hotel and decided to take a little walk before dinner. Strolling along the wide boulevard, we gazed at the glitzy lights and neon that advertised the celebrities who were appearing at clubs and lounges. The streets were filled with cars, buses, and taxis, all honking their horns and jockeying for position in the mounting traffic.

                  Newspaper vending machines lined the sidewalks, offering free tabloids. Actually, they were advertising brochures for adult entertainments and featured garish color pictures of women in scanty outfits and lingerie. Before we returned to the hotel, Randy managed to gather an armload of them. In our room, we lay together on the king .. size bed, leafing through the pages and giggling over the suggestive ads for “Escorts” and “Private Dancers.” I soon realized that some of these were really prostitution services. The language they used left very little doubt about what they were selling. Most used the word outcall, indicating they would come right to your hotel room for your convenience. A few of them promised “Escorts of all shapes and sizes to satisfy your every desire.” One proclaimed, “You’ll be so glad you came.” Another said, “We specialize in men, women, and couples.”

                  We made dinner reservations at an elegant restaurant and took our time getting ready. After we showered and dressed, we rode the elevator down to the lobby. Like all Las Vegas hotels, this one was designed in such a way that you couldn’t get anyplace without walking through the bustling gambling casino. The slot machines’ lights and bells were hypnotic, making it just about impossible to get past them without placing a bet or dropping a coin into one. We found ourselves standing in front of a gleaming chrome bandit that held out the opportunity to win a million dollars with one pull of its handle. Randy was fumbling in his pockets when a hostess in a brief red outfit offered to make change. Randy handed her a twenty and received a paper cup filled with silver dollars. A glazed look in his eye, he slipped one into the slot and gestured toward the handle. “You pull it,,, he said. “For luck.,, I reached over and yanked hard on the lever, watching the little wheels spin to display fleeting glimpses of cherries, plums, and lemons in a window at the front of the machine. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a siren and the jangling of a bell. I looked around to see where it was coming from when Randy shouted, “We won! We won! You hit the jackpot!,,

                  People at nearby machines formed a circle around us. One asked, “How much did you win?,, I had no idea. Randy was studying the chart at the top of the machine. “You got four lemons!,, he exclaimed. “Four lemons pays a thousand bucks!” The hostess who had given him change just a few moments before stepped out of the crowd. “That’s right,,, she said, fitting a key into the machine to silence its bell and siren. “Congratulations. I’ll take you to the cashier for your payoff.,, In a daze, we followed her to a window that looked like a teller’s station in a bank. As if in a dream, I stood with Randy and heard the cashier ask, “How would you like the money?” I heard my husband say, “Hundreds, please.” I saw the cashier count out ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, but I didn’t really believe any of it was happening until I saw Randy fold the money and put it in his pocket.

                  “Let’s go eat,” he said. “I think we’ve finished gambling.” At the dinner table, I was so excited I could hardly swallow my salad. “You picked a good machine,” I said giddily. “Maybe you ought to become a professional gambler.” “Oh, no,” Randy responded. “You’re the one who won. After all, you pulled the handle. You should decide what we do with the money.” “Let me think about it for a while,” I said, sipping my wine. “I’m still in shock.” “Me, too,” Randy said. “Let’s spend it impulsively.” Suddenly, I became aware of a thought that had been bouncing around secretly inside my head ever since we looked at the tabloids in our room. “I want a private dancer,” I said. “Let’s spend it on one of those escorts.” Randy looked shocked. “What do you mean?” he asked, obviously puzzled. Emboldened by our victory over the slot machine, by the fantasy atmosphere that abounds in Las Vegas, and perhaps a little by the wine I was drinking, I explained breathlessly, “I want to feel two people making love to me at the same time.” Looking down at my plate, I added weakly, “I’d like one of them to be you, and the other one to be a woman.”

                  Randy stared at me in silence, a gleam of fascination lighting his eyes. “Are you serious?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “If you’d be willing.” Then, embarrassed, I blurted, “But I wouldn’t want you to touch her or her to touch you. This would just be for me.” Suddenly, I felt ashamed. “ls that perverted? Or selfish?” I inquired. Randy grinned. “Hell, no,” he answered. “I think it’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard.”

                  We finished our dinner and headed back to the hotel. As soon as we were inside the room, I started thumbing through the tabloids, looking for an ad that I remembered from before. “Let’s do it right now,” I said. “I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve if we wait. Let’s see if we can get someone for tonight.” Spotting the words “We specialize in men, women, and couples,” I exclaimed, “Here it is! This one does outcalls and it says they come in all shapes and sizes. Will you call?” “This is your night,” he said. “You call and tell them exactly what you want.”

                  Although I was nervous, I somehow managed to dial the phone and make the arrangements, receiving a promise that a woman would be at our door within an hour. It seemed that only a moment went by, though, before we heard a knock. I stood back, my heart beating wildly, as Randy opened the door to admit an attractive blond woman in a low-cut green evening dress. “Hi,” she said, flashing a friendly smile. “I’m Loni from the escort service.” Randy and I stood speechless, at a total loss for words. Loni was confident and seemed completely at ease. Closing the door behind her, she glanced at each of us. ”Did you have something special in mind?” she asked. When neither of us answered, she persisted, “Am I doing him? Her? Both? Is there anything specific you want? Don’t want? Would one of you kindly fill me in?” Her musical laugh made me feel a little more comfortable.

                  “This was my idea,” I said, “so let me explain. I want both of you to make love to me. But I don’t want anything to happen between you and Randy. Oh, this is my husband, Randy, and I’m Harriet.” “No problem,” Loni answered. “I understand completely. It’s your money. You call the shots. But I have to collect in advance. Two hundred dollars, please.” As soon as Randy handed the bills to her, she tucked them in her purse and reached back to unzip her dress. Within moments she was standing before us completely naked.

                  The escort service had done a good job in selecting a woman to fit the description I gave them. She was .in her late twenties, about five-foot-four, with a trim waist and wide hips. Although her breasts were quite large, they did not sag, but jutted out proudly from her chest, the erect nipples pointing slightly upward. Her heart-shaped face was surrounded by blond curls, but the hair of her bush was dark brown. She had a smoothly rounded bottom. I noticed Randy studying her candidly, and for some reason I found that exciting.

                  She turned slowly in place so that we could both get a good clear look at her. Then she said, “Come on, you two. How about getting your clothes off so the fun can begin.”

                  I watched Randy undo his fly and step out of his pants. His penis was already hard, sticking straight out in front of him. I didn’t mind a bit when I saw Loni looking at it. Then she looked expectantly at me. Nervous once again, I began to undress, concentrating on the task so I wouldn’t have to meet Loni’s eyes or Randy’s. As I stripped, Loni chattered to relieve the tension. “This is your first time,” she said. “I can tell. Well, don’t worry about it. I get calls like this all the time. You’d be surprised how many couples want it just the way you do. All kinds of people.” By now I was nude and could feel goose bumps all over my body. “Why don’t you lay back on the bed?” Loni suggested. “Let me and your husband make you feel good.”

                  I closed my eyes as I did so, but when I felt hands moving softly over my bare belly, I had to open them. I didn’t want to miss any of the sensations. I wanted to see everything that was being done to me. I wanted to memorize pictures of this experience so that I could enjoy them again later. Randy stood beside the bed, watching as Loni’s fingers trailed expertly over my naked skin. She sat beside me, facing me, with her bare hip pressed against mine. Delicately, she cupped my breasts. I felt my nipples harden as she stroked them. At first her touch was so gentle that I was barely aware of it. Gradually, though, she began kneading and twisting my nipples, sending bolts of tingling pleasure through me. I stared at the woman’s breasts, watching her nipples harden with mine. I was aching to touch them but didn’t have the nerve. Leaning forward, Loni moved closer. ‘Go ahead,” she suggested. ”Hold them. It feels good. Do the same things I’m doing to you.”

                  I looked at Randy, who was watching wide .. eyed, his erection throbbing with excitement. Wordlessly, he nodded in agreement to her suggestion. Tentatively, I reached for the smooth globes of her bosom. When my hands made contact with them, a shiver of excitement passed over me. It was the first time I had ever touched any breasts but my own. The naughtiness of it was thrilling. Especially with my husband there to see it all. I began to experiment, taking the dark nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. I could feel them become even harder in response to my caresses. Gently, I rolled them, imagining what it would be like to suck on one of them. The excitement that came from having my breasts and nipples stroked by a woman while I did the same to her made me brave. Lifting my head from the pillow, I parted my lips.

                  Loni recognized my desire immediately, moving to bring her nipples within inches of my mouth. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “I like it.” The shock of excitement that thrashed my loins almost overpowered me as I licked lightly at one swollen rosebud. I felt my juices flow copiously, wetting the lips of my vagina as my tongue laved the crinkly skin that capped her breasts. In response to my sucking, Loni passed one of her hands slowly across the naked plane of my abdomen, seeking my trembling pubic mound. She pressed her palm against my sex hair. The tips of her fingers began to tease at the full lips of my vulva, picking up droplets of moisture and spreading them upward toward the pulsating button of my clitoris. As she rubbed little circles around it, I felt one of her fingers slipping inside me, probing deeper, until it impaled me completely. I fell back, sighing, my mouth leaving her breast.

                  With a strangled groan, Randy dropped to his knees beside the bed, his lips seeking my turgid nipple. Loni cupped the fullness of my flesh, holding it up to him with her hand. When his tongue made contact with me, the combined sensations were incredible. One of her fingers was driving into my sex while her hand and his mouth worked together to bring ecstatic pleasure to my breast. Randy began moving his head from one of my nipples to the other, sucking hungrily at them. I felt Loni’s hands cup the globes of my buttocks, lifting me slightly off the mattress. Randy was blocking my view of her, but I felt the softness of her face against the skin of my inner thighs. Her hot breath washed over my sensitive tissues as she kissed softly at the tops of my legs. I could feel her lips coming closer and closer to my frantically aroused vagina, and I knew that she was going to perform cunnilingus on me. I heard a groan of pleasure before I realized that it was coming from me. Loni’s tongue snaked over my vaginal lips, darting between them for an instant to give me a preview of the excitement that was to come. She nibbled and licked at me with a gentleness and expertise that could only be found in another woman. I felt myself flowering open to receive her lingual thrusts, my loins rising to press desperately against her.

                  Her tongue penetrated me, parting the membranes of my sex to copulate lovingly with my vulva. Rhythmically, she drove it in and out, mimicking the movements of intercourse with indescribable tenderness. Then she withdrew it to travel upward, tracing hot little trails around the throbbing erection of my pleasure center. My clit burgeoned, jutting forth to separate the folds of flesh that protected it and to bathe in Loni’s moist, hot breath. She licked with just the right amount of pressure, not too hard, not too soft. I felt my excitement rising and feared that I would come too fast, that this delightful adventure would end as suddenly as it had begun. Sensing my anxiety, Loni drew back, placing her hand flat over my tingling vaginal plane.

                  “Lie on your back next to Harriet,” she whispered to Randy. My husband obeyed her, reluctantly leaving my nipple to stretch out beside me on the bed. His manly erection stood straight up from the hairy jungle of his loins. Taking my hands, Loni pulled me into position above him. She had me lie down on top of him with my back against his chest, my breasts pointing at the ceiling. I could feel his insistent penis nudging from behind at the swollen mound between my legs, trying to find its opening.

                  With a thrill, I felt Loni’s fingers gently part the lips.of my vulva, directing my rotating pelvis until the tip of his organ pressed hungrily at my slit. While she stroked the curls of my pubic hair, she spread me open to ease his penetration. At last he was inside me. Loni stroked my breasts while Randy’s penis plunged to the hilt in my wet sex. He wrapped his arms tightly around my body as he drove into me. Slowly, we moved together and apart, his erection repeatedly penetrating my inflamed interior. Just when I thought the sensations were as intense as they could possibly be, I felt Loni’s tongue searching for the swollen head of my clitoris.

                  A sob tore involuntarily from my throat as I thrilled to the feeling of being filled by Randy’s thick organ while Loni’s mouth expertly titillated my most sensitive spot. I never knew that anything could be this exciting. It was like experiencing sex for the very first time. I became lost in swirling excitement, controlled completely by the ecstasy of total eroticism. I felt like I was turning inside out. Randy’s hands cupped my breasts, squeezing their softness and stroking lovingly over the nipples to bring them to maximum erection. Each movement of his fingers sent a jolt of electric energy shooting straight to my sexual center. I entered a world filled with sensuous pleasures that I had never experienced before, that I never even knew existed.

                  This time, when I felt my orgasm building, I wanted it to come. I wanted to feel the ultimate pleasure of intercourse with my husband while a woman’s gentle tongue lapped at my clitoris, and while hands-I no longer knew whose-petted the erectness of my nipples. I was getting all the stimulation I could possibly receive. It drove me over the edge. “Oh, God, I’m coming,” I screamed, as surge after rollicking surge gushed through my body. Loni kept licking, her talented tongue taking me through an orgasm that lifted me higher than I ever knew I could fly.

                  “I’m going to come in you, Harriet,” Randy croaked. I could feel his body tightening beneath mine, his organ swelling in preparation for emission. “Yes,” I cried. “Come in me.” With that, I felt his penis begin to spurt, filling me with the fluids of his ecstasy. He groaned rhythmically, the tempo of his gasps matching the beating of our orgasmic contractions. As my juices mingled with Randy’s, Loni kept tonguing my clit to extend the climax until it seemed endless. Finally, when the pleasure was so intense that it bordered on discomfort, I felt the spasms winding down. Randy’s penis softened and slipped out of me. Loni’s lingual caresses lightened until I barely felt the lips of her mouth nibbling at the lips of my vagina. With a sigh, I rolled off Randy, sinking into the mattress beside him, oblivious to all sense of reality, lost in post passion serenity.

                  As I came slowly to my senses, I was vaguely aware of Loni. moving about the room, getting back into her clothes. When she was dressed, she smiled and said, “I hope you two have a wonderful time in Las Vegas.” Without another word, she was gone, closing the door softly behind her. For a long time, Randy and I lay together in silence. Then I told him how much I enjoyed the adventure. I tried to describe how wonderful it felt to have every part of me touched at once, all my erogenous centers stimulated simultaneously. Randy understood. I never could have experienced those sensations with Randy alone. I was grateful that he was tolerant enough to make it possible. By understanding my desires and indulging them that night, he gave me the best sex I ever had.

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                    EROTIC HOLIDAY

                    Monday, February 18th, 2019

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                    Every now and then a good engine needs to be overhauled. Worn parts are replaced, repaired, restored, or re calibrated. The exterior is repainted, and the switches are rewired. When the job is done, the device has, in a way, been re-created. Re-creation is the process of being brought back into existence. When we apply the term to ourselves, we drop the hyphen and spell it recreation. Its meaning changes too, signifying the process of refreshing oneself with an entertaining activity. The change in meaning is only slight, however, because in refreshing ourselves we are, in a way, bringing ourselves back into existence. Without recreation, our spirits would run down like engines in need of an overhaul.

                    Intimate relationships occasionally need re-creation also. Lovers, or husbands and wives, may involve themselves so much in their individual activities that they lose touch with each other. Their schedules become so filled with work and family responsibilities that there may not seem to be time for a fulfilling sex life. Although sexual attraction probably played a role in bringing them together, they may forget it in the struggle to pay bills or maintain a lifestyle. To keep passion from leaking slowly out of a love once charged with intense desire and emotion, some couples take an erotic holiday. They plan a night or weekend of sex the way other people plan a vacation. They select a particular date and location, faking, in advance, whatever reservations are necessary. They arrange to have all business out of the way so that nothing will interfere with their amorous adventure.

                    Then, in a specially selected hideaway or in the privacy of their own bedroom, they devote themselves to lovemaking and romance. By forgetting the pressures of the workaday world and rediscovering sensual pleasure, they bring their stale relationships back into vibrant existence. Their sexual recreation becomes a true re-creation. People who have tried it say that their erotic holidays gave them the best sex they ever had.

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