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Good Grades, Part the Fourth

14 Wednesday Nov 2012

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The door to the ladies room hissed shut as Janie made her way through the small crowded room to an empty stall near the end of the long row. She hung her backpack on the door and locked it behind her, swiftly pulling her skirt up around her waist and slipping her hand inside her white lace panties.

Women’s voices echoed all around her, their laughter bouncing off the green tile walls, punctuated by the rush of intermittent flushes and the steady trickle of streams flowing in the many sinks. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the din, parting the soft folds of her labia and seeking her aching clit. She breathed in deeply and bit her lip as she stroked the slippery little pearl, swollen and throbbing with need. Her cunt was hot and practically dripping, and the crotch of her panties was wet against the back of her hand.

She closed her eyes and pictured Professor Gilbert—she couldn’t think of his first name. What was it? Begins with a B…Bob? No. Not Bill, either…Benjamin. Yes. Ben. He smelled so good. His hands were warm and soft and strong…

She leaned her head against the edge of the stall and put her foot up on the toilet seat. She slid two fingers inside herself easily, the soft, wet, sucking sound barely audible in the cavernous echoes of the bathroom. Janie worked quickly, imagining his fingers inside her, getting her ready for his cock. She recalled the feel of him hard against her ass and the warmth of his breath on her neck. She could still feel his hand twined in her hair, pulling it back, the barest taste of what it would be like to have him bend her over that desk and fuck her hard.

God knows you could use a good fucking…

Her breath was coming harder in short gasps as the rest room cleared. She struggled to keep quiet, to keep from moaning aloud as she fucked herself, fingering her cunt with two, then three fingers, her palm smacking wetly against her mound. Knowing there were people on the other side of the door only made it hotter, the thrill that someone might hear her, or wonder why the stall was shaking slightly.

In his office, with students and faculty walking past his door…biting my lip to keep from calling his name as he makes me cum over and over…

With a strong shudder that coursed through her body, making her scalp tingle and her toes curl, she brought herself quickly to a powerful orgasm, acutely aware of the time, not daring to take too long and risk being late for class against his orders. She held her breath as she came, squeezing her eyes tightly and feeling the strong contractions pulsing through her throbbing cunt. Her hand was drenched, her panties soaked as she exhaled forcefully, reaching over and giving the toilet a flush, allowing herself to moan his name softly as she reluctantly slid her fingers out of her pussy.

Janie cleaned up as best she could with toilet paper before grabbing her backpack and exiting the stall. She was still breathing hard as she washed her shaking hands, and a glimpse in the mirror showed her the flushed cheeks and shining eyes of her spent passion.

She slipped into her seat with a few minutes to spare and got her book out, prepared to focus and concentrate. She wanted Professor Gilbert to be pleased with her.

Keep reading…

Good Grades, Part Three

13 Tuesday Nov 2012

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At 4:08, Janie took a deep breath and fixing her face into a mask of willing and eager sweetness, knocked on Professor Gilbert’s office door.

“Come.” He didn’t look up from his desk as she entered. “Shut the door behind you, please.”

She did as she was told and stood just inside the door. She smoothed her short skirt with her hands and tugged the hem of her sweater down, making sure the creamy swells of her breasts were displayed at their best. She frowned slightly when he didn’t stop what he was doing. Still not looking at her, he said, “Have a seat.”

Again, she did as she was told and sat in the low chair across the desk from him. After a very long minute or two, he stopped typing and looked up at her. “You’re late.”

“Am I?” She smiled and waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, just by a few minutes…”

“Nearly ten minutes. Of my time,” he said, getting up and taking a seat in the chair beside hers. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Not a very good start, Jane.”

He was scolding her, but his voice was low and even. He didn’t seem angry, or upset, or even disappointed. He didn’t sound like he was mocking her, either. Janie didn’t quite know what to make of it and she felt herself falter. “I lost track of the time.” She tried to keep her voice light, but even she could hear the note of desperation in her excuse.

“Hmm. Seems to be a pattern with you.”

Fuck. It was not going the way she had envisioned it. “I have a lot going on. I have a full course load…”

“I looked up your records. Made a few phone calls. To say you have a ‘full course load’ is a bit of a stretch, wouldn’t you say? I mean, if you attended more than a handful of lectures or classes in a week, maybe.” Janie said nothing, but she could feel her cheeks growing hot and there was something in his quiet, matter-of-fact tone of voice that made her feel that any argument was going to be futile. She nodded and tried to keep her mask from slipping any further.

“Hmm.” He studied her silently for a moment. “So. What are you offering?”

His directness caught her off guard. “I…I don’t…know…”

“Come on, Jane. When you approached me after class, you had something in mind. You said—with a great deal of eyelash batting and hip twitching, I might add—that you’d be happy to do anything to get your grade up. I’m assuming you didn’t mean attending class or doing extra work, since you’ve barely attended my lectures as it is, and just doing the regular assigned class work seems to be more than you can manage. Leads me to think you had something else in mind. So what was it?”

Janie’s cheeks burned. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

He smiled. “Wasn’t it?”

Janie didn’t answer. He leaned forward and rested his hand on her bare knee. His hand was warm and soft, and she felt goosebumps rise where he was touching her. Slowly and lightly, he ran his fingers over her skin. “So, did you come here to make a specific offer, or were you waiting to see what kind of sexual favors I’m interested in first?”

His eyes were looking into hers, unflinching and unwavering. She felt for all the world that her bluff was being called, only she hadn’t been bluffing. What was it? She blinked, but he didn’t. His dark blue eyes seemed to look right through her and read her very thoughts while his face remained passive and unmoved. She couldn’t read him, and it unnerved her. She shivered, but it wasn’t from fear.

She was aware of his hand on her, stroking her skin gently, mindlessly, though she doubted he did anything without thinking. She could smell the musky spice of his aftershave and could see a small spot on his jawline where he’d nicked himself shaving . She found herself imagining him out of his clothes, picturing him not buttoned-down and well-groomed for class but rumpled and sweating, and her nipples hardened in response.

“How about I go first?” Janie nodded and swallowed hard.

“Stand up.” Janie stood, only noticing then that her knees were wobbling a bit.

“Put your hands flat on my desk.”

She bent slightly at the waist and rested the palms of her hands on the polished wood. He rose and positioned himself behind her. He put his hands on her hips and pressed himself against her ass. She could feel him through his pants, hard and hot, and her breath caught in her throat. “I could take you right now,” he said, sliding his hands down her thighs and gathering the hem of her skirt in his hands. “There’s not much standing in my way, is there? I could slide your skirt up, pull your panties to the side and take you right here, bent over my desk. Couldn’t I?”

Janie could only nod.

“Would you like that?” His voice was still low and measured and the only clue she had to his emotions was the swell of his hard cock pressed against her. When she didn’t answer, he said, “What if I promised you a passing grade? Or would it cost me an ‘A’ to fuck you on my desk?”

His words made her shiver again. “Turn around, Jane.”

She turned and he was against her, pressing her against his desk. “I’m going to need an answer here,” he said, raising his hand and running his thumb over her full lower lip. “I need you to tell me what you want from me, and what you’re willing to do in return.”

Janie looked up at him, into his eyes, and felt herself falling into their cold, blue depths. “I just don’t want to fail another class,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do anything.”

He slid his hand around her waist and pulled her to him, letting her feel his need again. He bent his head, brushing his lips against her ear and making her shudder anew. “I might ask quite a bit of you, sweet Jane,” he whispered. “But if you please me, a passing grade will be the least of what you receive. I’m prepared to be quite generous, if you hold up your end of our little agreement. Is that acceptable to you?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice choked with lust.

He pulled her close again and she gasped as he wound his fingers in her auburn curls and pulled her head back. Her mouth opened and her eyes closed as she waited for the feeling of his lips on hers.

“Open your eyes,” he said. Her lids fluttered open, her face a question. “One of the calls I made this afternoon was to your adviser. For the time being, she’s agreed to let me take over that job. Until further notice, you answer to me. You’ve agreed to do anything, and I expect you to honor that bargain. So I ask you one last time, are you willing to do anything I ask in exchange for passing grades?”

“Yes,” she said, her knees weak, her lips desperate for his.

He released her, and stepped back, circling his desk and sitting down at his computer again. He looked at the screen. “You have a class at 5:30. Go get something to eat and get to class. Don’t be late.” Janie didn’t move, but stayed frozen, half-seated on the edge of his desk. “Did you hear me?”

She turned. “So…you’re not going to–”

“Fuck you? Not right this minute, no. I just wanted to see how willing you are.” He smiled. “It’s information I needed, Jane.”

Janie stood up straight and squared her shoulders, and smoothing her skirt, she said, “I prefer to be called Janie.”

Without looking up from his computer, he said, “Janie is a little girl’s name. A diminutive. Jane is a woman’s name.” He looked up and smiled at her again. “I have no use for girls.”

She fidgeted a bit, smoothing her skirt again nervously. “So, what do you want me to…do. I mean…if you’re not…if you don’t want to…”

“Fuck you? Oh, I want to fuck you. A lot, in fact. You may have noticed. And God knows you could use a good fucking. But I don’t intend for you to be late for class. You should probably get going, in fact.” He picked up his phone and tapped the screen. “I have a free block of time tomorrow at two. You can come back then.” He looked back down at his computer and began typing.

“Two?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, not looking up. “And this time, don’t be late.”

Keep reading…

Good Grades, Part Two

12 Monday Nov 2012

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She watched him walk up the aisle, not moving until the slam of the heavy door jarred her out of stunned silence. She felt herself blush at his words, fumbling with her books as she collected them and made her own way out into the crowded hallway. Professor Gilbert was leaning against the foot of the staircase reading his text messages, and she saw him laugh. He continued to smile as he tapped out a response. She had never noticed him outside of class before—had never seen him doing the ordinary things people do. He looked up at the sound of the lecture room door slamming behind her and his unflinching gaze made her stutter in her steps. He raised one eyebrow slightly and a faint smile crossed his lips before he turned his attention slowly back to his phone.

She put her shoulders back and and wound her way through groups of loitering students to the small common area. It was packed; the few vinyl sofas and uncomfortable wooden chairs, and even a low table were occupied by students relaxing between classes. Professor Gilbert had thrown her off-balance and she felt a sudden desperate need to get her feet back under her again. She scanned the room quickly, and spotting a small space between a slender boy in a hooded sweatshirt and an older guy, likely a graduate student, she crossed to the two men, putting a little extra sway in her hips than usual. The older man saw her approach and looked up. “Excuse me,” she said, smiling at him. “Is there room for me to squeeze in here between you?”

The boy in the sweatshirt looked up at her and drank in her short skirt and tight sweater and quickly slid over in response, swallowing hard and making as much room as he could for her on the vinyl cushion. She gave him a grateful smile and turned it on the grad student. He smiled back and stood. “Please.” She sat and he perched on the arm of the couch, letting his thigh brush against her upper arm. The boy next to her was staring at her, his eyes fixed on her cleavage. She crossed her legs gracefully with a satisfied smile and looked around.

Professor Gilbert was watching her with his arms crossed and still the barest hint of a smile on his face. He seemed amused at how easily she had managed to get to young men to move aside for her with little more than a sexy smile. Or was he irritated? Janie couldn’t be sure. She took a deep breath and sat up straight, thrusting her breasts out and hearing with some satisfaction the boy next to her inhale sharply. Coyly, she returned Professor Gilbert’s half-smile. His eyebrow went up again just as his phone sounded. He broke into a grin at whatever he was reading and quickly replied, then shoved his phone back in his pocket and turned on his heel, leaving the building without looking back at her.

She wondered who the texts were from and what they said to make him smile like that.

Keep reading…

Good Grades

11 Sunday Nov 2012

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I’m starting a new story. This is what I’ve got so far.

*****

Janie sat at her desk towards the back of the vast lecture hall and worried the corner of her notebook with her thumbnail. She watched the clock as the minutes ticked by, adjusting the neckline of her low-cut sweater a couple of times and fidgeting in her seat. Somewhere in the logical recesses of her brain she knew she should be hanging on the professor’s every word, taking copious notes, and working hard to bring her grade up to passing, but it was getting late in the semester. The days were longer and warmer and party season was in full swing.

Sure, she could spend every night between here and finals in the library studying her ass off. She could skip the raging keggers at the Delta Tau house, or attend her scheduled classes instead of spending the afternoon on the lawn of the student center soaking up the sunshine in her bikini. There were all kinds of boring, tedious, and mind-numbing things that would get her grade out of the basement.

There was also extra credit—private extra credit.

She’d passed her freshman English Lit. class with a simple handjob in the professor’s office. One letter to her adviser and she was bringing in a solid C-minus despite not having cracked a book and attending maybe half the lectures. He was old—at least in his fifties—tweedy, and very married. Janie was surprised at how little persuasion she had needed to use. “It’s not what you do, it’s WHO you do” seemed to make perfectly good sense.

Janie squinted down at Professor Gilbert. He was okay enough to look at, if you could get past his uninspired everyday uniform of standard issue Old Navy khakis and a button down shirt. He was kind of attractive, in a nerdy, middle-aged sort of way, but it didn’t keep him from being boring as fuck, droning on about Civil War politics, yammering about state’s rights and federal authority as if it even mattered. Those people had been dead for, like, two hundred years and all that shit was settled. She frowned. History was stupid.

As the last few minutes of class slid away she put on a fresh coat of lip gloss and watched him as he wrapped his lecture up. He wore no wedding ring and she saw no line that gave one away, and Janie carefully calculated that with those Opie Cunningham looks there was no way he was getting enough pussy to turn down any offer she could make.

When the last of the students had filed out, Janie approached him confidently.

Keep reading…

Ah, Men.

09 Friday Nov 2012

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I love the male form.

I love the way men are put together. We share so many of the same body parts, and while for me (as a heterosexual woman) the attraction lies in the differences, I’m thinking at the moment of a stirring similarity.

Women deal daily with body shaming. It’s a huge issue for us. Some of us are told daily that we’re ugly because we’re fat, and others of my sisters are accused of being “not a real woman” because they don’t have curves. We worry if our breasts are too small or our asses too large. We worry about postpartum bellies and if we have enough–too much–not enough–pubic hair. 99% of us aren’t built like Playboy Playmates, and never will be.

At our worst, we cry over our appearance. We feel fat and ugly and don’t want to leave the house. Sometimes at our best, the most positive self-talk we can muster is “Well, I’m having a good hair day, but for the most part, I’m unimpressive.”

Men don’t talk about this like we do, but it’s not because they don’t think about it. Out there right now are men who looked in the mirror while shaving this morning and frowned at the start of a double chin. There are men who stand before a camera hoping to take a sexy picture for someone special and suck in their gut self-consciously. There are men leaving their shirts on during sex because they’re uncomfortable being naked.

I know you have the same hangups we do. Maybe it’s not as pronounced, but I know the media, the porn industry, Madison Avenue–they’re making you feel like you don’t measure up. You might not obsess over it like we do, but you think about it.

Plus, you have your penis to be concerned about.

It is a man’s Achilles heel. I know for a fact that the 99% of you not built like porn stars have a love-hate relationship with that particular appendage. I have yet to meet a man in the buff who has not asked if his penis was “okay,” looking for approval and affirmation. Usually it’s in the way of an apology.

“It’s not that big.”

“It’s unimpressive.”

“Hey, I’ve never had any complaints.”

Here’s the thing, guys. I love your penis. In fact, I love your whole body.

I don’t care if you’re carrying a few extra pounds around the middle or if you have a 6-pack of abs. I’ll run my hands over a sweet, flat ass just as willingly as I will a soft, round one. I love a fair-haired, light skinned man and a dark, swarthy dude just the same. I adore thick pelts of chest hair and a mass of pubes, and I’m turned on by a baby-smooth chest and bare balls in equal measure.

And I love your cock.

It’s beautiful when it’s hard. Your arousal is a total turn-on to me. Big, small, thick, short, skinny…it’s lovely. I want to see you hold it, to display it proudly, especially if it’s just for me, in private. Especially if I’ve done something to get you in that state. I love that you can bring yourself pleasure and I want to hear about it, to see it, to share it. I don’t care if it’s huge–the truth is that the 99% of us who don’t look like a porn stars love men who don’t either.

Your hard cock is lovely.

But it is beautiful when it’s flaccid.

I know. The very essence of your manhood is at times, small. But here’s a secret: it’s not the size or the hardness that makes me weak in the knees. It is in the expression of a well-formed man, a part of your body electric. You are certainly more than your penis, and it takes more than that one body part to make you a man, but to see you bare and to admire your masculine form is a special treat. I love to catch a glimpse of it while you shower, or through the slightly open bathroom door while you get dressed. I will run my hands over the soft bulge in your pants just to admire your manhood in the same way you’ll run your hand over the soft curve of a womanly hip as you walk by.

I admire men of all types, all sizes and all shapes.

Smooth bald heads and wild-man beards.

Strong, chiseled chins and soft lips.

Big beer bellies and chicken legs.

A big bear of a man I have to stand on tiptoe to hug, and one I can tower over in a pair of heels.

I love the man who looks in the mirror and sees nothing all that special. The man who sees himself as average, not much to look at–the guy who is frowning at himself right now, comparing himself to an underwear model or a porn star and coming up short.

The guy who is looking down at his flaccid penis and thinking it’s unimpressive and wondering why anyone would want to see it.

I’ll tell you why.

It’s because you’re a man, and you’re beautiful and wonderfully made.

From “Dirty Silk Panties”

02 Friday Nov 2012

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Every now and again I write a story from the male point of view. I call my alter ego “Lexx Muffstuffer, Vagina Slayer” and he’s a total pig. I love that dirty bastard and it’s fun to give him free rein with a story. This is a bit from a longer piece I had up on Literotica. I put it in the Loving Wives category just to see how many of the perverted pearl-clutchers I could freak out. Suffice it to say, the number was very, very high. *laughs* Mission accomplished.

*****

I had a week to figure out how to get my best friend to not only fuck my girlfriend, but to fuck her while I fuck her too. I might be able to get him to fuck just her. I might be able to get him to let me watch, but there was no way I could think of that he’d willingly be part of a gang bang. Maybe if it was two girls, but I knew two guys was going to be too gay for him. Hell, I wasn’t convinced myself that it wasn’t too gay. I consoled myself by watching a couple of gang bang DVD’s and noticing that the guys didn’t seem to weirded out by being all dicks-out at the same time. Of course, they’re porn stars and paid not to be weirded out by much of anything, but I tried not to think about that.

I also figured out that if push came to shove I might be choosing my girlfriend over my best friend. I tried not to think about that either.

By the time Sean was at the door on Sunday afternoon, I was four beers ahead of him, slightly drunk and I had no fucking idea how this plan of Lorie’s was going to work. As it was, I’d seen little of her that morning. She was up and out of the house before I got up and when she got back she stayed mostly in the bedroom with the door closed. I knocked a couple of times and asked if she was okay and she said she was. The thought of going in and seeing what she was doing never really crossed my mind. I had enough fucking things on it as it was.

Sean came in and got himself a beer from the fridge and settled himself down into his usual Sunday afternoon game-watching chair just as he’d done a thousand weekends before. I tried to be casual and took a sip of my beer, but it got stuck in my throat, so I put the bottle down. My hands were shaking.

By the bottom of the second inning, just as I was starting to sweat, Lorie came out of the bedroom. She had on a tiny pair of white silk panties and a sheer white button down silk shirt. I could see her tits through the fabric, and so could Sean. He licked his lips and stammered a greeting of some sort, and beads of sweat that matched mine broke out on his forehead. Poor guy had no fucking idea what was coming, though.

Lorie sat on the arm of the couch right next to Sean and put her foot up on the sofa cushion. Her legs were spread and the crotch of her panties stretched tightly over her pussy lips. I could see her big clit through the thin fabric and a thin, damp patch already starting to form. Her nipples were as hard as her clit and she leaned towards Sean slightly.

“Hey, Sean,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here. I have a favor to ask you.”

Sean swallowed hard. Sean’s dick was hard. He was tent-poling the front of his shorts and he shifted in the chair hoping we didn’t notice but knowing all the same that we had. “Uh…sure,” he said, “I guess so…”

Lorie got up and delicately deposited herself on his knee. “I don’t know if you can tell or not, but I love that big goofus over there,” she said. I swallowed hard and blinked. She’d never used the “L-word” with me before and it caught me by surprise. Sean took a look at her hard nipples rubbing beneath the see-through veil, swallowed hard and blinked as well. “The thing is, he probably never told you but he really gets off on watching me with other guys. He told me it’s his biggest fantasy and I’d really like to make it happen for him.”

Lorie slowly started to unbutton her top as she talked. “I thought about picking up a stranger, but that just seems so cold and impersonal. No way to show my love.” She was playing the doe-eyed innocent and it was making me so hard I thought I’d cream right in my pants. Button after button gave way and poor Sean was scared to breathe, scared to look at her, but unable to look away either. “So I thought long and hard about it,” she said, pulling the fabric of her shirt across her tits so that her nipples were right in my best friend’s face, ” and decided that the best person to help me make my man happy is the guy who loves him like I do. His best friend.” She opened her blouse and let it fall behind her. She shook her long hair out and arched her back. “I thought maybe we could go in the other room and get to know each other a little better first, then he could come in and watch us. What could be sweeter than his best girl and his best friend?”

Sean’s eyes were bugging out as he looked at me for confirmation. “Dude,” Sean croaked, when he could finally get the words out. “Is this for real?”

His voice shocked me back into reality. “Yeah, man,” I said. “Totally. Sorry, she caught me off guard…Baby, I wasn’t expecting anything like this,” I said to Lorie.

“So, I guess it’s all up to Sean,” she said, running her hand lightly over his shaved head and down his neck. She left her arm draped over his wide shoulders and leaned into him so that her rosy nipple was brushing against his cheek with each breath. “What do you say? Did I pick the right man for the job?”

“Well, shit…yeah!” he said, more enthusiastically than I’d have expected from my best friend. He wrapped his arms around her and grabbed her tits in his huge hands. “Shit,” he said again, “if you want to watch me tap this sweet ass, I’d be fucking stupid to say no.”

Lorie broke out in a sweet, sexy, victorious smile. “How about a little pre-game for my loving man right here?” she said and turned so her back was to him. She ground her ass against his cock and swayed to a song only she could hear. Her tits were hanging free, swinging back and forth. She raised her arms and tangled her hands through her hair, and when Sean ran his hands up her thighs to her soft ass, she smiled that knowing smile for me again.

“I don’t know ’bout you, man,” Sean said, laughing, squeezing Lorie’s ass, “but even though this little gift here is for you, I think Christmas came early for me!”

Lorie turned to face him. “You have no idea, stud.” she said, and gestured for him to follow her. “Let’s go in here and get warmed up before the big game.” Sean got up and trotted after her like a puppy. “I just hope I can please you,” she said to him, and closed the door, smiling at me still sitting stock-still on the couch.

It’s a weird feeling to sit in one room with the ballgame on like it’s a regular Sunday afternoon, but knowing that your girlfriend has just seduced your best friend in the world and he’s currently in your bed doing God knows what to her. With your blessing.

The front of my brain felt very strongly that it should be protesting this in some way. Real men don’t let their girlfriends fuck their best friends—certainly not in their beds, not with their permission, and for sure not while they watch. Do they?

But from the back of my brain a voice was screaming out that this was the kind of thing you only see in letters to Penthouse and in porn movies and that I should be fucking happy as a pig in shit that I found a woman who likes to fuck long and hard and is willing to get my friends’ rocks off too. As if on cue, I heard Sean moan from the bedroom, and my cock jumped in sympathy. I was guessing the “watching” part was coming up next, and I couldn’t help it but I gave myself a few strokes through my shorts.

I heard a small click and I looked up to see the bedroom door swing open. My Lorie stood naked in the doorway and gave me her sweetest, most seductive smile. “We’re ready for you, lover,” she said and I got up as smoothly as I could with my hard-on bobbing along in front of me. She slid her arms around my neck and kissed me long and deep. “Let’s see if you can make this a day I won’t ever forget,” she challenged, and led me into the bedroom.

The shades were drawn against the afternoon sun and Lorie had lit candles all around the room. Sean was stretched out naked and spread-eagled on our bed, his black skin in stark relief against the new white satin sheets. He looked like a sacrifice. A very, happy sacrifice, if the wide smile on his face was any indication.

His huge cock jutted up and I tried not to look at it. It’s not usually kosher to stare at your buddy’s junk, but then I wasn’t sure if the rules regarding junk-looking were suspended when you were about to see him fuck right in front of you. But then I was expected to look. Right? Clearly some ground rules would have come in handy, but there was no use crying over fucking spilled milk at this point.

Lorie showed me the chair she set up right by the foot of the bed and I sat dutifully while she climbed on the bed. Sean gasped as she swiftly straddled his cock in the old “reverse cowgirl” and guided the fat tip to her cunt, which I’m sure—based on loads of experience—was already soaking wet. She looked me right in the eye as she slowly took every inch of his black meat into her twat.

I watched his fat cock stretch her lips apart and sink into her, shuddering with lust as she took him in like a seasoned pro. She rode him slowly, working his cock inside her and using her power and his body for her own pleasure. She watched me the whole time, looking into my eyes and smiling at me, but murmured quiet words of encouragement to Sean. “Oh, that’s nice, baby. You have a nice, thick cock.” Sean would moan and she’d reach down and give his balls a stroke and a squeeze. “Nice big balls,” she’d say to him. “I can’t wait to taste your cum.” She didn’t let me forget for a second that this was all about her.

I was breathing hard, watching her fuck him, using him like a piece of meat, putting on a show that was turning me on as much as it was her. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Seeing his cock inside her, stretching her out and sliding out black and shiny from her love juice was more than I could take. It was more than any man could take. I pulled my cock out of my shorts and wrapped my fist around it. I gave it a squeeze and milky precum oozed out of the tip.

“Oh, baby,” she said to me. “You want a little of this too?” she said, grinding her clit against Sean’s pelvis. “C’mon up here,” she said, and I shucked off my clothes and climbed naked onto the bed. I stood up in front of her and she grabbed my cock with both hands and took me into her mouth. I could see Sean grinning at me from behind her and he gave me the thumbs up.

She sucked my cock like she’d never sucked it before, all the while riding Sean’s cock. She had two of her holes filled, but I knew what kind of fucking she was craving. “Sean,” I said, and Sean opened his eyes and looked at me. “You wanna play a little game?” Lorie stopped fucking us and looked up, not sure what I was thinking and I’m guessing not sure she wanted me taking the lead. “How about one of us fucks her cunt and one of us fucks her ass, and the first one to cum has to clean up his creampie with his mouth?”

Sean laughed. “You’re a nasty motherfucker, man,” he said. “But I like the way you think.”

It was Lorie’s turn to be thrilled, and she said, the emotion barely contained in her voice, “It’s only fair to give Sean the first choice of holes. He is our guest, after all.”

“You heard her, buddy. Choose your weapon,” I told him.

“Shit,” he said, “much as I’d like to squeeze into that tight ass of yours, I doubt I’d last a minute. Your pussy is sweet enough for me, doll. How ’bout you spin it around so I can play with those bouncing titties while your man and me show you how it’s done.”

I leaned down and kissed her hard, then she got up and re-adjusted herself onto his pole. “Be a pal and see if you can reach the lube in that drawer over there,” I said, gesturing to the nightstand. “And you keep still,” I told Lorie, who was slowly starting to ride Sean’s cock. “No fair giving me a head start.”

“Thanks, man,” Sean said, handing me the bottle of lube, and Lorie giggled. “Now you lean over here and let me have a suck of them sweet nipples.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. Her ass spread before me and I squirted a big gob of lube right into her asshole and used my middle finger to open her tight hole and get it good and slippery. She moaned, though I don’t know if it was from me lubing up her ass or because Sean chose that moment to give her nipples a couple of good hard sucks.

I guided my greasy dick to her back door and rubbed the head against the tight pink whorl. I pressed into her, feeling the tightly clenched muscles relax and open bit by bit. “Keep working her tits,” I told Sean. “It’s a tight squeeze back here but nibbling on her nips gets her crazy horny.”

“That right, baby doll?” he asked, and took her nipple between his straight, white teeth. He bit down lightly and pulled back, stretching the sensitive skin and causing her to squeal with pleasure. He let it go with a snap and a jiggle and she moaned as I made a little more progress into her asshole.

Slowly she opened for me, taking me in inch by hot, tight inch. Her cunt was already stuffed and as I filled her ass with my cock, she started to shake. I stroked her ass cheeks and urged her to ease herself back onto me. “Lean back, love,” I said and she did, rocking back so that we were both filling her up, then rocking forward so that we would both slide out at the same time. “That’s right, baby,” I told her. “Fuck us both the same. You’re in charge. Who you gonna milk first?”

Lorie didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. She was rocking back and forth, fucking us with her tight holes while we let our hands explore and caress her body. The first time our hands accidentally brushed, we both pulled away like they were wired for 220. But as Lorie got hotter and started fucking us faster and faster, it didn’t matter whose hands were whose, and the fact that our dicks were only separated by a thin membrane and our balls were pressed up against each other kind of made feeling weird pointless.

Sean was starting to moan, and I was hoping he was getting close. I could tell Lorie was and I wanted it to be extra good for her, so I reached down and grabbed her by the hair the way I know she likes. I tugged on it and pulled her head back, giving my hips a little extra something with each thrust. “C’mon, baby,” I urged her. “Come with two cocks inside you. We’re gonna fill you up good,” I added and she moaned again, slamming her ass into my thighs and meeting each of our thrusts with her own. Sean was moaning nearly as loud as she was and I was pretty sure I was going to win this contest. “That’s right,” I said, “make that big black cock explode.”

“Ohhhh, shit!” Sean groaned loudly and I could feel his cock swell and pulse against mine as he shot his load deep into my girlfriend’s pussy. I could feel the heat of his cum and so could Lorie, because all hell broke loose inside her and she started to buck and hump wildly against his throbbing cock. She was cumming like I’d never felt her cum before, and I could feel the spasms in her cunt and her ass at the same time. It was such a delicious, novel sensation, and since I’d already won, I gave her a couple of good strokes and shot my own load into her asshole, wetting her down front and back. I could see my cum bubble out from around my prick and as I pulled out of her hot, spunky ass, I saw Sean’s cum dripping oozing out from around his still hard cock.

She collapsed on top of Sean and he wrapped his arms around her, but with one hand he made a fist. I laughed and knuckle-bumped him, Big Papi-style. I rubbed the head of my cock in her crack, making sure I left her good and messy. “Don’t get too comfortable, Buddy,” I told him. “You’re not done.”

“C’mon, man,” he groaned.

Lorie put her head up and kissed Sean. “That’s right, honey,” she said. “I’m afraid we have to go with house rules on this. My pussy is a mess and since you came first, you get to clean me up.” She raised herself off his hard cock and a gob of jizz—I couldn’t tell if it was mine or his—landed in his dark, curly pubes. “Just relax and enjoy it,” she said. “I know I will.” She turned and straddled his face, offering him her asshole and pussy, both of which were dripping with cum. “Do a good job now,” she directed.

She shivered as his thick lips made contact with her bare pussy lips. He spread her with his hands and gently lapped and sucked at her swollen cunt and stretched holes. She looked into my eyes and I took her face in my hands and kissed her gently, sucking at her lips and giving her my tongue the way my best friend was loving her twat.

Sean’s cock lay hard beneath our chins and Lorie took it in her hands. Sean groaned as she took the big purple head into her mouth and sucked on his jizz-covered tool. It was too big for her to get very far into her mouth so she wrapped her hands around the base and stroked him while she sucked the fat head. She looked at me looking at her and suddenly a smile crossed her stuffed lips. She gave me the “come hither” finger and pointed at Sean’s cock. He was absorbed in her pussy and couldn’t see what she was doing, and I realized she wanted me to suck Sean’s cock.

I shook my head no. I’m no cocksucking fag. She squeezed his cock and he moaned into her pussy. Then she twitched a little and a big grin spread across her face. “Oh, that’s right, now that’s my nasty Uncle Sean,” she said. “Sucking daddy’s cum out of my ass like that. Ohhhhh, that’s so nice,” and I could tell she meant it.

I looked down at Sean’s cock throbbing between us. I could hear the sucking and slurping noises as he sucked my spunk out of her asshole, so as Lorie stroked his shaft I closed my eyes and took my best friend’s cock into my mouth. Sean groaned into her ass, sucking and licking and fucking her with his tongue. I sucked my first cock, tasting both Lorie’s sweet pussy and Sean’s deep funkiness on the soft, firm skin. I didn’t know if I was doing it right or not, but I figured if I did what felt good to me I’d be okay. I took him into my throat as far as I could, feeling the heaviness of him on my tongue. Lorie’s little hands were stroking him hard and she was using my saliva to get him good and slick. I figured out her rhythm and finally I felt like we were really on to something.

I didn’t figure in that Sean would come again so quickly, and clearly I was so preoccupied with my technique that I failed to notice that he was grunting into my girl’s asshole and twitching his hips with every stroke of his cock. Before I knew what was happening, I felt a hot flood hit my tongue and fill my throat. I nearly gagged before I instinctively swallowed and suddenly jet after jet of cum was going smoothly down my throat. I drank him in eagerly, swallowing everything he had and sucking every last drop out of his cock. I released him and Lorie kissed me again, his cock between us, as she lifted herself carefully off of his face.

Sean lay there on the bed breathing hard while Lorie turned and curled her body up next to his. I curled up next to her and the three of us just stayed like that for what felt like a good, long while. Finally, Sean was the first one who found something to say. “Bro, this is one sweet little piece of ass you got on your hands.”

From “Once In a Blue Moon”

31 Wednesday Oct 2012

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This excerpt is from a soon-to-be-published story. Stay tuned!

*****

Now she was in control, the alpha lover in the room, connecting us and guiding us on invisible wires to the bed where we collapsed together in a tangled mass of limbs. A moment of confusion as hands, overlapped, legs collided, and bodies searched for warm spots and throbbing places, and then Rowan guiding us again. “Just relax,” she told him, running her hands over his body. “Don’t worry about pleasing both of us, or making one of us feel left out. Whatever happens, it’s all good.”

She ran her hand over my breasts, watching as my already hard nipples quivered beneath her touch. He did the same, lowering his mouth and taking the pink point in his lips. I felt a tug in my pussy as he sucked, and then another as she followed suit, taking the other hard nugget in her teeth and making me writhe as my body processed the exquisite pleasure. I felt a hand between my thighs, but couldn’t tell whose it was. I shivered with delight at the knowledge–or the not-knowing–of which of them was parting my lips and stroking my clit.

Gentle hands moved over me, guiding me and urging me onto my stomach. I exhaled deeply with anticipation as hands caressed the soft skin of my ass, wandering into the cleft and dipping into the warmth and wetness. Hands guided me to my knees and parted me, guiding my legs apart and spreading me wide and making me ready. A mouth pressed against my soaked cunt and a tongue plunged inside me, drawing a moan from my lips. I felt bodies move and the mattress shift beneath me, making me sway on my knees, strong hands steadying me and those lips on my pussy, sucking and licking.

I felt the mattress give a little near my hands and I opened my eyes. Soft creamy thighs were before me, and Rowan smiled when I looked up at her, stroking her cheek with my hand. I needed to taste her again.

She lay down and spread her legs for me, showing me her bare pussy. I pressed my lips to her swollen clit, tickling it with my tongue where it peeked out from her soft folds and drawing a moan from her. I tickled the little silver ring that pierced her plump nether lip, making her giggle, before dipping back into her and tasting her sweet, wet cunt and hearing that giggle turn into a deep sigh.

My own cunt was dripping as Gary slid two fingers inside me, and slid his tongue to my ass. My moan was muffled by Rowan’s pussy as he worked it inside me, opening me and making a chill of pleasure run up my spine. I leaned back into him, forcing him in deeper, feeling myself grow wider and ready for his cock.

He shifted again and I braced myself, feeling him kneel behind me. I tried to focus on Rowan, on bringing her pleasure, but as he slid inside my wet cunt and I felt his balls slap against my clit, I raised my head and moaned. He stroked me deep, sliding his hands over my ass and up my back and grabbing a handful of my hair. He pulled back, making me arch into him. Rowan smiled and slid her hand between her legs, and watching as he fucked me, she plunged two fingers into her open cunt.

He pulled out of me slowly and ran the hot head of his cock over my pussy, teasing me with it, dipping it in and pulling it out. I felt him press against my asshole and I moaned, barely able to utter the words, “Oh, God…yes.” Gently, he pressed harder and I took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he spread me, wider and still wider with his thick shaft. It burned and I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle him. I felt my eyebrows knit as I kept breathing, trying to relax.

In a flash, Rowan was beneath me, wriggling under my body. I felt her lips against my clit and then the gentle suction as her mouth closed around it. She worked my clit like a tiny cock, sucking and teasing it with her tongue. I wriggled against her, moaning anew as she slipped her fingers inside me. Gary pressed harder into me, opening me past the pain to where it becomes pleasure. He worked his cock slowly, purposefully, running his hands over my ass.

Rowan knew just how to touch me, hitting all the pleasure points she’d discovered the night before. I lowered my mouth to her pussy and worked her lips apart with my own, pressing my mouth again into her. She was so wet and ripe, and I had to swallow hard to keep up with the juices that flowed from her. I pushed her knees apart and attacked her clit hungrily, making her squirm beneath me even as she brought me closer and closer to my own finish.

I could feel the pressure building, the tension inside me as cock and mouth worked together to make me cum. I was getting close to the edge, feeling the ripples begin and rush towards me, before breaking in the center and racing outward in growing spirals. I could barely breathe and my legs shook as I came, Rowan using her fingers to draw out a gush of fluid that ran over her face. I felt her shake with laughter, and I laughed too from release and with joy.

Reluctantly, Gary slipped out of my ass, and we shuddered at the same time from the delicious pleasure of sensitive skin on very sensitive skin. Rowan waited until the deep spasms inside me subsided before pulling her fingers out and kissing me gently on my spent cunt.

I fell back onto the bed breathing hard. Gary kissed me, tasting Rowan’s funky essence all over my face. “Go get some,” I told him and Rowan smiled as his knowing mouth replaced mine on her cunt. He knelt over her and tasted her pussy, while I lay beside her, lazily stroking her soft breasts and pulling her nipples into hard peaks.

(to be continued…)

For the Boys

29 Monday Oct 2012

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I admit I have the occasional qualm about writing gay and lesbian erotica. I’m neither gay nor lesbian, though given half a chance, I’m pretty sure I’d give girls a try, and I’ve long wished I had a dick of my own with which to make sweet, sweet love to a man. If I had to tack a label on myself, it would be as heterosexual woman, but I have some serious bi-longings.

When I wrote my first gay stories, I didn’t give it much of a thought. Honestly, people are people. Love, lust, longing–they’re all the same no matter what your gender. Hearts get broken no matter who does the breaking, and honestly, it’s less about genitals than about the whole person.

I still sweat the details when I write from a male point-of-view. I have never experienced an orgasm with my own penis (alas) and I will turn to friends who are endowed to have them check me and let me know if I’ve got it right or if I’m a bit off in describing the sensation. So far, so good, knock wood.

But then I submitted a lesbian story to a publisher and got rejected because she felt it would be off-putting to her mostly lesbian audience. I didn’t understand, but I didn’t disagree. I assume she would know better than I, and a dear lesbian friend of mine explained it to me in greater depth.

But now, ever since then, I worry about writing stories with same-sex relationships, afraid that I’m going to get something wrong. I had banked on universal emotions and shared experiences making it cool, and now I’m just unsure of myself. I read not that long ago that most of the gay erotica currently being bought is actually being written by straight women. I don’t know what to make of that.

One of the stories I’m working on is a full-length novel for a change, though it started out as a short story. Then two, and I realized a story was unfolding and sure enough, this character had a story that needed to be told, so I started telling it, fitting the bits I’d already written into the whole. It’s one of my NaNo novels for November, and I thought I’d share a bit more of it. (For another chapter, click here.) I posted this chapter on Literotica ages ago and it was one of my highest rated stories, and it got an Editor’s Choice and “Hot” designation. For what that’s worth…

*****

On Friday, it rained. Hard. I mean, really hard. There’s no work to do on the barn when it rains. Oh sure, if we were as far along as working on the inside we could get something done there, but weren’t quite there yet, so I had the day off. A rainy, miserable Friday, with a long weekend yawning before me.

I sat dejectedly in the living room of my summer rental watching the rain run down the windowpane. When I took the job, I guess I hadn’t realized how difficult it was going to be to put my life in the city on hold to spend the summer doing construction work on a farm. I liked the job, and as long as I could go out and actually work I was fine. It was the down time that made me restless and edgy. Rural New Hampshire is not exactly a hotbed of social activity, and there’s not much of a gay scene. Let’s face it, folks—one boy bar in a 75-mile radius does not a scene make.

Of course, part of my problem was more that mere homesickness and lack of social stimulation. My problem was Vic. It’s never a good idea to get your freak on with your job foreman, even if he is young and good-looking. I knew this full well, just as I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that he was so my type. Well, okay so he claimed he was straight, but I never like to let a little thing like that slow me down. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that! Besides, I swear I had only planned to use him as a summer conquest, a sweet, dirty little fling to keep me warm in the winter when I was battling the slushy streets of Manhattan and the limp advances of jaded chorus queens. Vic was hot and fresh and as full of promise as a summer morning, and I really didn’t want a serious relationship, just a roll in the hay. Which there was plenty of, I should add. Hay, that is.

To my delighted surprise, Vic was a great deal more open to shall we say, “sexual experimentation” than I originally anticipated. He greeted my advances almost from the get-go with open arms—and legs. He was an avid and willing pupil, and his hard, strong, tanned body had made the hot summer literally fly by. I didn’t even miss the bright lights and big city all that much when we were lying together on a warm night, holding hands and searching the enormous black sky for shooting stars.

Now, I knew all along that he didn’t consider himself to be “gay”, or even bi for that matter. He made it clear that for as much as he liked to fool around with me, at the end of the day he really couldn’t live without pussy. I knew what he was talking about; because while I’m not averse to a little trim myself, it’s not something I want a steady diet of. His sexual preference was just fine and dandy with me. At least I thought it was—at first. Remember, he was nothing, just some out-of-town sex. And I was just supposed to be something kinky on the side; sort of a little foray down a gay side street for him.

So here’s the rub…

You see, I made a fatal mistake. The fatal mistake. I fell for Vic, and I fell hard. I didn’t care that he was straight. I didn’t give a rat’s ass that I was just some sexy fun for him. Hell, I could even get past it when he said he was going to try out some of my “moves” with his girlfriend Randi. None of that mattered a bit when his arms were around me, and his lips were pressed to mine.

In those precious golden moments I could tell myself that there was something more. Call me the King of Delusion if you want, but when we were together, I was sure he felt the same way, that his heart was coming along for the ride too.

And as long as I didn’t really think about it too hard, like when we were working side by side, it wasn’t a problem. Then it had to go and rain. As I sat and looked out across the soaking wet lawn into the fog, I thought about him. He’d have gone back to sleep when he saw that it was pouring outside. His sun-kissed hair would be tousled against his white pillowcase, his naked body relaxed and easy in sleep. His dick would be semi-hard, maybe stirring occasionally if he was having a particularly enjoyable dream. Maybe it would be about me.

But then he’d reach over in his half-sleep of morning and drape his arm around Randi, and she curl up against him, her soft ass creating a warm nest for his wonderful cock. He’d pull her to him, unconsciously caressing the soft curve of her breast as they slept, his breath warm on her neck. Maybe he’d wake her with a gentle kiss, his wonderful searching hands seeking and roaming and touching…her.

It was at times like that I knew he wasn’t mine to keep. And I didn’t know if I wanted him to keep. Hell, fall was going to be coming along soon enough and there was no need to let him stomp on my heart a bit before I hopped the Concord Trailways back to my life.

I sat there alone in the gloom feeling sorry for myself. And stupid that I could have felt that there was something more between us than just animal sex. Wasn’t I the one that told him that it was okay to separate love from sex? Well, okay, maybe it was a ploy to get him into my rented bed, but still. Well, there’s the lesson in all of this for you: practice what you preach, you know?

Just when I was about to give in completely to the Eeyores and add a shot of Baileys to my coffee, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” It was him. Hmmm. Not feeling so glum all of a sudden. Be cool.

“What’s up?”

“Nothin’. Fuckin’ pouring out there.” Vic was in charge of the painfully obvious this morning, as usual.

“Yup,” I agreed. What else could I do? It was fuckin’ pourin’ out there.

“You doin’ anything tonight?” he asked.

“You say that like there is anything to do,” I retorted.

“You want to hang out later?”

Did I want to hang out? Jeez, let me think.

“Sure,” I said casually. “What did you have in mind?”

“I dunno. Play it by ear, I guess. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

So forceful, so decisive. So manly. “Sure,” I said again.

Click. Cool. I had a date with Vic. I just had to kill twelve hours in the meantime.

I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that I made it through the longest day on Earth since the creation of time. I spent plenty of time getting dressed, though. I wore a great pair of jeans: my ass looked perfect in them. My shirt was one of those snug fitting knit things that cling in all the right places. Luckily a few months of hard labor had defined all those right places or I’d have had to choose something else. I appraised the results in the mirror, turning and checking myself out from all angles. No major visible flaws detected. Could use a bit more definition in the abs, but my guns looked good. I’d do me. I was just about to tuck my wallet in my back pocket, when I noticed my leather cock ring sitting on the dresser. Should I? Would he think it was sexy, or just too cheesy for words?

I decided to go for it. It’s not like I wear it around all the time. I unzipped and pulled out the little guy. I shouldn’t call him that, really. It’s not exactly true, and besides, his feelings might get hurt. I snapped the leather harness into place, one strap behind my balls and the other in front. I never failed to get a little hard just from the sexy tightness of it, and I gotta tell you, it greatly improved my overall profile, if you catch my drift.

Vic was on time as usual. He had Randi’s car, which kind of pissed me off a little. Rub my nose in it, why don’t you? Actually, I wasn’t really that put out. She had—get this—a 1965 Ford Cobra with a stroked 427 V-8, forged rods & pistons, aluminum head & intake, race ported with titanium valves/springs, 800 cfm 4 barrel Holley, MSD ignition, dual electric fans, silver ceramic coated headers and side pipes & a 4 speed manual, all synchromesh tranny to boot. Yeah, way more car than a girl her age needs. The car both kicked and hauled ass. I wouldn’t mind owning it myself. Especially when he tore off down the road, kicking up dirt and gravel and taking corners easily at sixty. It’s a guy thing. Still, it was hers. I was ticked off just on principal.

It’s been my personal experience that a guy can forget his troubles in the right car, with the right person behind the wheel. We were tearing around at what felt like warp speeds, that goddess of an engine roaring at the top of her lungs. Vic handled the car expertly and that beauty hugged every corner without so much as a single squeal. For a while I didn’t even think to wonder where we were going. It was enough to just be running wide open on the interstate, flying over the rain-slicked highway in a silver blur. We didn’t talk; we just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

Vic was pretty buffed up himself, but then I was so used to seeing him—and having him, for that matter—dirty and sweaty from working all day, that this clean, sweet-smelling boy was driving me crazy. I was definitely filling out my jeans, that’s for sure.

We pulled up in front of a rather seedy looking building. The sign out front let me know that I was at “Mark’s Showplace” and the one on the door told me that I had to be 21 to get in. I reached for my wallet to show my ID, but the bouncer at the door slapped Vic on the back and waved us through. Since I knew that Vic was still two years shy of being able to enter this establishment legally, I had to assume that he knew someone.

I was right.

On the main stage, surrounded by about fifteen or twenty guys, was Randi. Vic’s Randi. She was as naked as the day she was born, writhing to the pounding bass of “You Can Leave Your Hat On,” the Joe Cocker version. I’ll be damned if she didn’t have good taste in music too. She saw us as she came in and blew Vic a kiss, never missing a beat as she squatted and picked a folded dollar bill up off a guys face. Without using her hands, I might add.

We didn’t sit right up close but took a small table toward the back. The waitress came right over, her obviously braless breasts nearly escaping from underneath her cutoff “Mark’s Showplace” t-shirt. Her ass was performing the same stunt from underneath her very short shorts, and she proceeded to plop the Defiant Ones firmly on my lap. What’ll it be, boys?” she shouted over the aggressively loud music, and then before we could say anything she fairly yelled “Mich light, Vic?”

He nodded and I held up two fingers, and with a nod of her head and a wiggle of her ass she trotted back to the bar. I definitely needed a beer. Or twelve. Luckily, our server was quick and she returned posthaste with two cold bottles and a couple of frosted glasses, which I thought was a nice touch for a strip club. Which was what this was. And go figure, Vic’s little piece of ass was a headliner. Well good for her. A girl needs a career. If the folded bills that littered the stage were any indication of her annual gross income, I could see how she could afford a classic muscle car.

She certainly knew her business, that’s for sure. There wasn’t a guy in the room that could take his eyes off her. It wasn’t that she was the best looking girl in the place. Don’t get me wrong, she was pretty, but not stunning. She had a great body, but she was not Pam Anderson or anything. I hate to use a cliché here, but she really just looked like the girl next door. If she had on makeup, it was just a trace, her hair was, well, normal hair—not bleached or dyed or anything. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry, she was barefoot, and even her nails were plain. Yes, I notice stuff like that. Usually dancers have polished talons that look like they just killed a water buffalo with their bare hands. Not Randi. She looked like someone’s horny, naked little sister.

What kept the guys mesmerized was her obvious enjoyment of her job. I should qualify that: her perceived obvious enjoyment of her job. She really looked like she was getting off on the attention. She was grinding to the music, feeling it inside her and letting the throbbing bass beat control her movements. She turned her tight ass to their table and bent over, her tight puckered asshole winking at them over her moist slit. She grabbed her ass and squeezed it seductively, her tits and hair swinging in time with her movements.

She turned toward them and winked again at Vic. She stared right at him as she caressed her own breasts and pulled the nipples into hard points. She tossed her straight, light brown hair over her shoulders and bracing herself on the brass pole, arched backwards into a graceful backbend. Her pussy opened and everyone could see the erect clit peeking out from her slick, pink vulva. She swayed to the music, gyrating, with her pussy open before them. She lowered her back to the polished floor of the stage and spread her legs wide. She spread her lips with two fingers and showed everyone her tight hole and her neatly trimmed bush. She closed them again and opened them, her legs scissoring to the beat of the music. The bass was pounding and they could see the moisture seeping from her smooth cunt. She was aroused and smiling, looking at each and every guy, inviting them with her eyes and her seductive smiles.

Planting her heels on the rug, she lifted her hips toward them and thrust her pelvis in the air, her tits bouncing with the beat. Her head was thrown back with ecstasy and her wet, red lips were parted as she panted. The song faded out and she slumped to the floor, the men around them applauding wildly. I had to admit, I was impressed, and applauded as well. After all, it was quite a show. I might have been able to chalk it up to the tight leather encircling my cock, but I was more than a little hard despite myself.

With a blast of Aerosmith from the sound system, the next girl came out and started doing her thing. I ignored her. Vic leaned in close to me and asked, “So, what’d you think?”

I told the truth. “She was really good,” I said honestly. “She, um, seems to like what she does,” I added by way of critique.

“Yeah, dancing makes her really horny,” he affirmed with a boyish grin. Some guys wonder how other guys can stand to let their girlfriends take off their clothes for money. Vic could tell them. I glanced down, and sure enough, his cock was like a steel bar in his pants. I didn’t dare touch it, but I sure as hell wanted to.

Randi came out front after a few minutes dressed as a Catholic schoolgirl. But not in a Britney sort of way, all tarted up. She was literally dressed like the president of the CYO, which made it even hotter. She was wearing a short blue and green plaid skirt with knee socks and black platform Mary Jane’s. She had on a white oxford shirt and a green headband to match. When she pulled up a chair and sat down, I caught a glimpse of her white cotton panties. Now she totally looked like someone’s little sister. Actually she looked like a girl I had a crush on in the eighth grade at St. Jerome’s. That was before I figured out that her older brother had more to offer.

She greeted Vic with a lot of tongue before she sat, and then turned her attention to me. We had met a few times up at the farm. She was nice enough, but besides the fact that we shared the same great taste in cars, clothes, music, and men, what did we have to talk about?

I must have seemed really uptight, because she ordered another round of beers and totally focused on me. She chatted easily with me, like she’d known me forever, and I wasn’t sure, but I could have sworn she was flirting with me. She was doing that thing where every time I’d say something even kind of funny she’d laugh and then tell me how funny I was. And when I thought she had a great car she smiled and said I could take it for a spin any time I wanted, stuff like that. I mean, I’d been flirted with before, so I definitely recognized it when I saw it.

At one point, she got up and went to the bar for something, peanuts or beers or something like that. And Vic leans over to me and says something like, “Well, what do you think of her?” He wasn’t looking for my opinion of her dancing this time; he wanted to know if I liked her. Of course I told him I did; I said she was great, or something like that. It was hard to hear with Steven Tyler screaming in my ears, but I think he said, “She told me she thinks you’re hot.” I didn’t know what to say, so then he says, “She gives the most awesome lap dances.” I don’t remember what I said back, but it must have been encouraging, because when she got back to the table he got up and said something in her ear. She grinned broadly and before I knew it I was following these two to the back room. I never got the chance to ask if she knew about our little arrangement.

We went through the heavy red curtains past yet another bouncer into what I assumed was the private dance lounge. It was as tacky as the rest of the place, but the music was more muffled in here. Finally, we could hear ourselves think. Randi gestured for me to sit on a well-worn sofa. Vic stood against the wall by the door with his arms folded, smiling broadly and apparently content to watch. He seemed so eager to please me with his girlfriend that I put on my game face and sat back for the show.

Have I mentioned that I’ve had relationships with women before? I prefer boys as a rule, but girls aren’t without their own particular charms. There wasn’t much about Randi for me to find fault with—well, except for the fact that she was dating the guy I wanted to be dating. I was pretty sure that I hadn’t told Vic about any of my previous relationships, so I have to assume that he was just trying to broaden my horizons. It was kind of sweet, when you think about it.

Randi started to dance for me. I’d like to say in the girl’s favor that she was an excellent dancer. A lot of the girls were lacking in that department, but Randi really knew how to move her body to the song. It was a slow one this time, “Careless Whisper” by Wham or something like that. She never looked at Vic once, just at me. She ran her hands through her hair, discarding the headband in the process. She shook her thick, shiny hair free and let it fall around her face. Slowly as she danced, she unbuttoned her plain, white shirt. I was almost astonished to see that she was wearing a bra, a very pretty white lace one. I told you, I notice these things. She came over to me and danced very close, slowly lowering herself down onto my waiting lap.

Now, I thought the rule with lap dances was that you couldn’t touch them, and since this was my friend’s girlfriend, I practically sat on my hands. I wasn’t taking any chances. She leaned in very close and told me that I could do anything I liked in here. She asked if I would help her with her blouse. I looked at Vic and he’s still standing there with his huge hard-on, grinning like a Cheshire cat. So I reached up and slid the shirt off her arms, running my hands along them as I did. Randi closed her eyes and groaned a bit, letting her head fall back. Her tits were right in my face and I looked up at Vic, asking him with my eyes what I was supposed to do next.

He smiled and made a sort of “you know” gesture with his head. I gestured at her chest and he nodded, while he reached down and rubbed his cock through his jeans. “Oh my God,” I thought, “he wants to watch.” There wasn’t much I could do, and seeing Vic stroke himself was making my already uncomfortable erection that much more so. I obliged him, and lowered my lips to her breast. I kissed the skin softly, gently. Randi raised her hands and ran them through my hair. She smelled fresh and clean and I breathed in deeply as I kissed a delicate trail up her neck to her tiny earlobes. I nibbled them ever so slightly, barely touching her skin, which was driving her wild.

I pulled down the lace cups of her bra and released her tits. They were perky and all natural, and her tiny nipples were as hard as diamonds. I took one in my mouth and sucked gently, licking all around it and teasing it with my tongue. As I let it go and moved to give the other one equal time, I looked over at Vic. He was watching intently, still rubbing his dick through his pants. I looked right at him as I took his lover’s other nipple into my mouth. I slid my hands up under her skirt and felt her supple ass through her panties.

She stopped grinding her pussy against my thighs long enough to get up and turn around. She continued to dance, and facing Vic, she reached up under her skirt and smoothly slipped her panties down, revealing her tight, perfect ass to me. I had to admit, as far as asses went, hers was a very nice one.

I can’t resist a great ass, I don’t care who it belongs to; I leaned forward and encouraged her to bring it a little closer. She did, climbing up on the couch so that it was right in my face. Lap dance, up close and personal. I ran my hands up her smooth, well-toned legs and wrapped my hands around her soft cheeks. They were like two halves of a peach: pink and firm but yielding with skin as soft as silk. She swayed slowly to the music, balancing carefully on the edge of the couch.

I slipped one hand between her thighs and ran my fingers lightly along her slightly spread slit, once over from stem to stern, then back again, very slowly. I did it again, just as lightly, just as slowly, teasing her with feather-light touches. On the third trip through, I added a bit more pressure, stroking her clit as I went by, wetting my fingers in her soaked cunt and teasing her tiny pink asshole with my damp thumb. It was so perfect, and so close anyway that I took her by the hips so she didn’t fall and break a leg, and guided her back gently to my face. I kissed the little rosebud, and she groaned, so I continued, licking and sucking gently at it. She bent forward a bit, but there was no way I was going there. I mean, I’m as open to all things sexual as the next guy, but I’m just not going down on a chick, sorry. But she’d been so accommodating so far that it seemed cruel not to give her a bit of pleasure. I stuck my fingers in her eager pussy, and she swallowed them up hungrily. I finger-banged her while I used my tongue on her just like I did with Vic, penetrating her tight asshole and reaming her for all I was worth.

She was moaning loudly and I was afraid for a second that the bouncer might come in. Then, despite the fact that there was precious little blood getting to my brain at that moment, I realized that he’d probably been told to stay out, and keep everyone else out too. Sure enough, I looked up over the half-moons of Randi’s ass and saw that Vic had his cock out and was stroking it slowly, his eyes half-closed but still watching us with obvious delight. My own dick was pounding uncomfortably against the metal zipper, so I took a little break from Randi’s sweet hole to adjust myself.

Randi must have assumed that I was ready for more, because she jumped down off the couch and completely ignoring Vic’s self-pleasuring—which, by the way, was getting me hotter by the second—she swiftly unzipped my jeans and pulled out the big guy. He jumped out at her, grateful for the fresh air, looking at her with that one good eye of his. She leaned over and gave it a quick lick, then took the whole thing in, right up to the hilt, leather straps and all. What a woman.

If I had any question as to Vic’s attraction to her, the skill with which she was sucking my cock held all the answers. I’ve always felt that no one gives better head than a guy, since they have the same equipment and know what feels good. If I hadn’t just had my head buried in Randi’s ass and gotten a good close look at her plumbing, I would have sworn she had a dick of her own. Enthusiastic doesn’t even begin to describe her attention to my rod. I wondered how she’d react if I started sucking Vic’s cock at the same time. Obviously, he had to have told her that he knew someone who’d be interested in a threesome. Or maybe Randi just had her eye on me and Vic liked to watch. It’s so hard to think clearly when you’re getting your dick sucked.

I ran one hand through her glossy hair, and with the other I gestured for Vic to come over and join us. He hesitated for a second, and then slowly walked over to the couch. He stood next to me and I took his shaft into my mouth, taking it all the way in until my nose was nestled in his pubes, just like Randi had done to me. I used the hand that wasn’t guiding Randi’s head to stroke the base of Vic’s cock.

Randi stopped when she saw Vic put the purple head of his cock to my lips. She watched me as I deep-throated her boyfriend. Her eyes got really wide, and she looked up at Vic, who had his head back and eyes closed enjoying the mouth-ride I was giving him. Again, I have to say kudos to Randi. She never took her eyes off me and Vic, but she again took my prick in her mouth. I had eyes only for my beautiful Vic, but I could tell she was watching because whatever I did to him, she did to me. When I caressed his balls, her soft hand fondled mine. When I sucked him off slowly, so did she. When I pulled him hard into my throat, I felt my own prick hit the back of hers. You get the general idea. So, she wasn’t completely turned off by a little bi-action. This was just getting better by the minute.

Personally, I like the set-up we had going, but I was pretty sure I was expected to fuck Randi. Problem was, I wanted to fuck Vic. I wasn’t sure how either of them would react. Boy, it sure would have helped to have had a little heads-up ahead of time. Maybe set some ground rules. But, as they say, there’s no use crying over spilled milk.

Before I spilled something else, I reluctantly released Vic’s cock, and Randi pulled off of mine, her full lips shiny and red. She sat back on her heels, waiting for me to lead the way. I decided to give them what I figured they were after. I looked around and spotted a black vinyl-covered barstool in the dark corner of the sparsely furnished room. I guided Randi to her feet and pulled the barstool out into the light. She caught on quickly and got up on the stool. She was a limber little thing and promptly and gracefully slid her ankles up onto my shoulders. I thought it was quite nice of her to give me my choice of holes. I gave my unit a couple of tugs to prime it up, and guided it right to her front door. I figured, what the hell? I hadn’t been there in a while and one can always use a vacation in exotic lands.

She was hot and tight and to quote Jim Morrison in his fat, drunk years, “Her cunt gripped me like a warm friendly hand.” The man was a poet, but I digress. I guess I didn’t expect it to be such a delicious sensation. I went in easily, as deep as I could go, and pressed in tight. She moaned and threw her head back as the silver stud on my cock ring hit her square in the clit. I thought that thing was purely ornamental. Who knew?

But this is the best part. I’m sliding in and out of Randi’s slippery pussy, really enjoying the ride and trying to make it last by thinking about old nuns and rocks. My cock looked great sliding in and out, all shiny and purple. And Randi was having the time of her life, pulling on her little nips as my multi-tasking cock ring banged against her red, swollen clit. I swear it was so hot I didn’t even think about where my sweet Vic was. But I found him soon enough. Or I should say he found me.

I felt his dick hard and hot against my ass. Oh, this was going to be good. He pushed my jeans down to my knees with one swift motion and pressed his hot, hard knob past my cheeks and right up to my entirely neglected asshole. I’m embarrassed to admit that I panicked for a second. Vic was no small-fry and as much as I wanted to feel him inside me, I didn’t relish the thought of it going in dry. I reached behind and grabbed him rather abruptly by his pole and pulled him around beside me. I stopped thrusting and took a baby step to the right. Vic slid in between Randi’s legs as well, and began to tease her clit with the tip of his cock. I thought it was a nice touch. I don’t recommend doing this little maneuver with a girl who is less than flexible. Randi just spread wider. What a trooper. I liked her more and more by the minute. I slipped out of her warm cunt and allowed him to dip his shaft into her copious juices, figuring that would get it nice and wet indeed. I stayed right at my post, rubbing our dicks together like a boy scout trying to start a campfire.

Inspired, I eased the head of my cock in beside Vic’s. I didn’t know if she’d be able to handle two at once, and I was prepared to pull away if need be, but she just reached down and lent a hand, rubbing her own clit while I spread her as wide as possible with my own none-too-tiny member. My dick was squeezed tighter than I thought humanly possible. I picked up a rhythm opposite of Vic’s: when he went in, I slid out, and vice versa. Our cocks were rubbing together, her cunt was caressing both of us all around, and she was kissing each of us in turn, first Vic, then me, then back to him. Then both of us at once, then Vic and I kissed each other. We each took a breast and went to town, licking and sucking and pulling at her hard nipples with our teeth. I could see why Vic loved her. I think I loved her.

Vic was the first one to lose control. He was younger, he was not assisted by a cock ring, and he was just too pretty to be able to say the alphabet backwards. He never pulled out, just sank in all the way and shot his load with a grunt. His cum felt scalding hot as it flooded her cunt and enveloped my cock. I had never felt anything quite so amazing before, and I gave Randi one or two more good strokes and let fly myself. If I had ever felt anything quite this good before, I don’t remember it. The best sex I ever had paled in comparison to this. We were both panting and sweating, and leaning on Randi and each other while our dicks throbbed in her cunt.

I felt bad for Randi. She had been so generous with the both of us, had taken on two dicks, but she still wasn’t satisfied. I thought that was criminal. But I still wasn’t eating a pussy, I don’t care how well basted it was. So I switched tactics. I knew Vic would be able to keep going. He was nineteen after all. I held him in place and slipped out, gently repositioning Randi’s legs so that they were comfortably cradled on Vic’s strong shoulders. I slid my jeans up so I could move, and crouched down behind Vic. I shucked his jeans down to his knees like he had done to me, and reaching through his legs, coated my left hand with jizz and pussy juice. I slid it between his cheeks and massaged his asshole, just the way I knew he liked. Then, leaning slightly against his leg for balance, I did the same thing to my right hand and applied it to Randi’s exposed backside.

Vic was moving again, his energy renewed for another assault on Miss Randi’s accommodating pussy. He rode her high, working his rod against her clit, so with one swift motion I inserted a finger into each of their impatient asses. You know in movies when the hero is driving a souped-up modified car and he hits a magical button and it flies into turbo boost? Well, apparently I hit their collective turbo-fuck-boost button because they were both humping and fucking so wildly I wished I’d been wearing a helmet. I got kicked in the head twice and Vic damn near sprained the index and middle fingers of my left hand. And I’d be lucky if I didn’t get carpal tunnel in my right one. I was starting to fear for my life when Randi just went nuts. There’s no other way to describe it. She was laughing and crying at the same time, squealing a little and moaning, which of course made Vic hotter than a four-balled tomcat. He stabbed at her for all he was worth, but there was just too much cum and not enough friction to get off again. And she knew it too.

So what does she do? Did she get up and say, “Who wants Chinese?” Not Randi, not my girl. She pushed him away and slid wetly off the stool. At which point she braces herself against the slick seat and offers him her ass. She was a class act. And sexy Vic takes that huge, cum-soaked tool and slides it right in as nice as you please. I kept it up with Vic’s hungry asshole, using all four fingers of one hand to fuck him while he plowed Randi’s sweet ass. I was just about ready to introduce Vic to the invasive world of fisting, when he groaned and with a sharp cry came for the second time in less than ten minutes. The boy was a god.

He staggered over to the couch and flopped down exhausted. I can’t say as I blamed him. Randi reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck, so I lifted her gently and wrapped her legs around my back. I carried her to the couch and sat next to Vic, where we all sat for a moment, kissing and cuddling each other in a tangled heap of arms and legs. It was then, and only then that any of us spoke. I broke the silence and asked if they’d like to come over after Randi got off work. Everyone was in agreement, so we made plans to take Randi with us when she finished her last set on the main stage.

As we piled into the car much later that night and headed up to the farm, I got the distinct impression that I was part of a well-orchestrated plan, but I was the only one not in on it.

NaNoWriMo or No?

27 Saturday Oct 2012

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Last year, I did it. I won NaNoWriMo. I wrote a 40K word novel in 30 days.

I’m not saying it was a good novel. I gave it to four beta readers and none of them could get through it. Well, I assume they couldn’t. The only feedback I got was “I haven’t finished it yet” and then I don’t like to push when folks are doing me a favor, so I let it drop. The fact that it wasn’t devoured eagerly and commented on either favorably or un- is telling.

It also doesn’t exactly make me want to write that way again.

The one good thing is that it made me get forty-thousand words on paper. It took a lot of hours to do, with an end result that’s worthless to me. I can’t edit it because to me, the story is told. It’s just (apparently) not a very good story. I can live with that.

But I have three full-length novels in progress that have all stalled for one reason or another, and I’ve had very little time to write lately. I’m thinking maybe during NaNo this year of setting aside a block of time every day to write. Perhaps log so many hours on the stories I already have instead of counting the words, and give myself a victory if I can get any one of them into a readable draft form. Hell, finishing all three and having manuscripts to submit to publishers would be an amazing accomplishment, even if I don’t earn a shiny new badge for my sidebar.

It’s for sure that writing is a discipline. I have to do it all the time, every day, or I get out of practice. Even blogging is hard (in case you couldn’t tell) because the words don’t want to come out of my head. My writing seems halting and forced and stilted to me, and the words flow only in messy, lumpy, stringy, scattered bursts.

It will be good to get my head back in the game.

I’m very close to finishing the ghost love story. I need to slow the pacing at the beginning and  flesh out a spot in the middle that also seemed a bit rushed, and put the denouement on paper instead of having it up in my head. It should be easy to do, if I can get my mojo back.

The second novel is gay erotica, a story of an idyllic summer full of man love on a farm. It’s hot. And when I realized what I was writing, I loved the story. I know why the main character is telling his story, and I know what happens, and it’s amazing. Again, it’s all up here. *points at head* I need to get it on the page.

The third one is still mostly idea. It’s based on a true story I found on my Twitter feed, a tale of long-distance lust in the cyber-age. I know what it will look like when it’s done, and I have a framework story around which the main story will be built. I know the characters, too, and they want me to tell their story. It needs the most work, but progress would be good, too.

I have four days to set a game plan. I will keep you posted.

Farm Hands

25 Thursday Oct 2012

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I wrote this as the first in a series of short stories one long, hot summer when a friend of mine was having his barn renovated. The young men doing the work were just delicious, and I took lots of pictures and wrote very dirty stories. Eventually, I realized my main character had a story to tell and I started telling it. It’s not done, but it needs to be, I think. 

*****

“Fuck! Get over here and grab this end!” Vic yelled, as the unwieldy barn door he was trying to move began to give way.

I dropped the pry bar I was using to remove rotted clapboards from the barn and ran over to catch the falling timber. The door was heavy, at least a few hundred pounds, and too awkward for one guy to handle alone. Vic was really built, that’s a fact—tall, blonde, and made of all lean muscle—but we’d be lucky if it didn’t fall and maim us both.

I ran to his side just as he began to lose it and grabbed hold of the door. Between us, we managed to put just enough leverage on the door to slide it back up into place. I held it while Vic grabbed a spare piece of lumber and secured it temporarily with a few hard strokes of his hammer. We both stood back for a minute to catch our breath. Vic leaned forward with his hands on his knees, then stood up straight and flexed his aching muscles. It was 100 degrees in the shade and we were both hot and sweaty from a whole day of renovating the dairy barn.

“I’ve had it,” Vic said as I watched the sweat run in rivers down his naked back and stain his hard-worn faded Levi’s. He unhooked his tool belt and slung it into the back of his truck.

“I’m with you,” I agreed, and retrieving my discarded pry bar I too removed my tool belt and put it with his in the rusted pickup. I grabbed the big cooler of water and popping the top, savored every mouthful of the cold, cool stuff. I offered it to Vic and he drank gratefully. I watched him as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the liquid, some of it escaping his lips and running down his smooth, hard, muscled chest. The water made clean rivers in the dust and sweat caked on his skin, and I followed the river right down to where it disappeared into the already-soaked waistband of his jeans. I raised my hand and trailed a finger in the small stream, running my finger just inside the frayed edge of his work pants.

He lowered the cooler and said with a wry grin, “Be cool, man. Not out here. Let’s go in the barn out of the sun.”

I trotted eagerly after him, admiring the view of his hard, athletic ass as he walked into the barn. His back was strong and tan from hours in the summer sun, and as soon as we were in the cool, dark barn, I grabbed him by his belt loop. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” I said, pulling him to me so that he could feel my hard-on against his tight ass. He sighed deeply as I wrapped my arms around his sweaty body. I reached for his nipples and was thrilled to find them already hard as rocks. “You could cut diamonds with these,” I murmured as I pulled and rolled them around in my fingers. I pressed my lips to his strong shoulder, tasting the sweat as I kissed a path to his sensitive earlobes. He shivered as my lips made contact with his ear. I ran my tongue along the edge and nipped lightly at it with my teeth.

I slid my hands down his wet torso, enjoying the ripples of his washboard abs and I worked my way south. I undid the top button of his jeans and slid my hands slowly downward, stroking the smooth planes of his hips, his body naked under the drenched denim. I lowered the zipper and released his long cock, sliding his jeans to his knees. I grabbed his thick, wet tool and stroked it firmly, his sweat and pre-cum being the only lubricant I needed. He leaned forward, bracing himself with his hands against the ladder of the hayloft. While my right hand continued to milk his large tool, I used my left to free my own dick. I was as hard as Vic was, maybe harder, and just as sweaty as he was. I guided it to his ass, and Vic spread his legs as far as his jeans would allow.

I pressed my dick into the hot, wet crack of his ass. Despite the cooler temperature in the dark barn, sweat was pouring down Vic’s back and into the cleft where my cock rested. I ran the tip along his sweaty crack, wetting it with the stinging sweat from his own ass. I teased him with the tip, putting it in just a little and letting it out again, all the while sliding my hand up and down his slippery cock.

“Oh, man, I can’t stand it any more,” he groaned, and obliging, I slid my rod slowly into his hot, tight hole. I let go of his hard prick and grabbed him by the hips, pulling him tight until I could feel my balls against his ass. I slid out almost all the way, and then entered him again, slowly, pulling him to me, letting him feel every inch of my hot dick in his ass. I was so worked up from watching him work and sweat in the sun that I wasn’t going to be able to finesse him this time. My dick was ready to burst, so I increased the pace, fucking him faster and harder, slamming into him while my balls slapped against his naked ass. He was moaning, holding onto the ladder for dear life, begging me to come in his ass, to fill him with my spunk.

It was all the encouragement I needed. I felt my balls tighten and then I came like a volcano, my jizz shooting out of me like hot lava. I grunted as I filled his accommodating ass with all that I had. My passion spent, I leaned against him, our bodies soaked and slippery with cum and sweat. I pulled my already-soft tool out of his ass and let it flop wetly against my thigh. He turned around and I kissed him full on the lips, his day’s growth of blonde beard scratching my sensitive lips, as I knew mine was doing to him. He opened his mouth and I offered my tongue, which he greedily accepted, sucking on it like a candy.

My hands once again sought his golden cock, and slithering down his sweaty body, I knelt in front of him. He leaned his ass against the ladder as I took his long prick in my mouth. I tilted my head back and took him all the way into my throat until felt the damp curls of his pubic hair tickle my nose. I sucked him like a pro, using one hand on his balls and cum-soaked asshole, one hand around the base keeping time with my hungry mouth.

Vic was groaning in ecstasy, my lips and tongue teasing him like no man or woman ever had. Suddenly with a cry, he grabbed my sweat-soaked hair and held me fast. I took him as far into my throat as I could and opened wide as he shot load after load of jism into my mouth. I swallowed every drop, savoring the salty starch taste of his cum. He let go of my head and I released his still-hard dick, giving it one good stroke for good measure, and nearly causing Vic to jump out of his skin.

“Oh, man, that was the best,” Vic said, kissing me and tasting his own cum. “You have the nicest mouth,” he added.

“And your ass is definitely something to write to the folks back home about,” I returned.

“You want to go take a quick dip in the creek before we head out?” he asked, buttoning his Levi’s.

“Sure,” I said, tucking my sticky dick back in my own wet pants.