newsgroups — nothing he couldn’t have finished with three hours before.

“Yeah — well — there was something I needed to deal with.” He doesn’t even look

up, but continues scrolling through the latest figures. “Were we going anywhere

tonight?”

I can tell by the attitude that he has no intention of moving for a while yet.

Fine. Something needs to happen. So I make it happen. “Are we the last ones left

in here?”

“Yeah”

Right.

Shoes.

Shirt

Jeans

Bra — onto the keyboard in front of him (underwired). He finally looks

up, notices what state I’m in.

“Oh. Staying a while, are we?”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“That’s up to you, isn’t it? I mean, you’re the one with the ever-so-important

work.” It’s really hard to keep the voice to irony-level. “Got anything

interesting off the newsgroups?”

“Just the Tommy Lee and Pamela vids.” He leads me out to the reception area,

where a high-edged desk faces the glass front, protecting the occupant from

ill-timed glances. There, under cover of the desk, he fires up the PC and loads

those videos.

And watches. And watches. And watches. Hmmm — not funny any more. “So, do you

like what she’s doing to him?”

“Oh, it looks all right.”

“Would you like me to do that to you?” And I go down to my knees and undo his

jeans. His cock, half erect already, is trying to escape the boxer shorts, so the

least I can do is encourage it with my lips. And tongue. And I gently send the

tip of that same tongue all along the bottom of it, tracing the ridge from the

base past the coarse hairs to the tip, and start coaxing a response by licking

small tender licks around the head as it rears and presents itself for further

…End of the part1. To be continued..

I stopped to pick up the girl on the side of the road. She was
wearing a soft cotten dress. As we drove on we talked about all sorts
of things. Then she asked me if I wanted a blow job in payment for the
ride! I am no fool ,so I quickly pull off and pull down my jeans!

As we drive her head bobs up and down my fat cock! She pushes two fingers
up my ass and dives down till the head of my cock is pushed
down her throat! I cum in long thick spurts! she gags on the sticky
fluid as it fills her cheaks.

She pulls her mouth off my cock but continues to pump it with her
hand. Her breasts are big and hang heavy. Her skin is a deep brown
from many hours of sun bathing. I watch her nipples poking through
the cloth of the dress! My dick is still like a rock, so I pull into the
median strip on the highway. She gets out and I step out also.
she climbs onto the hood of the car and spreads her thighs. I stand
there (with out pants on) my cock pointing towards her. I push my
mouth onto her cunt! The fat lips part as the juices she had been
holding back come gushing out into my mouth! I eat and suck and
lick her sweet pussy. I slip first one finger ,then two ,then three
fingers up into her asshole and pump them as I tongue fuck her
cunt! I bite and pull on the fat lips and smear her juices on to
her thin line of pubic hair! She moans and twists around my fingers
shoved up her ass and my mouth on her mound!

She shoves me back (my fingers make a little -pop- as they slip
out of her ass) then turns around and bends over the front of the
car. I slowly push the head of my cock up into her pussy. She grunts and
trys to get more cock in in a shorter time, but I will not
allow that. I finally get all 7 1/2″s of cock up into her! We start
fast and she screams and pounds on the hood of the car as she is
fucked savagely!! I pump and pump and pump into her. Her cunt is tight and
she works my cock like a pro!

I pull out quickly!! She gasps and almost falls off the car. But I
grab her and quickly re-insert my now slick cock up her ass hole!
She Cums like a banshee as I fire my wads of hot sticky cum up her
ass! I continue to pump her ass till she is completely satisfied!

As we drive along she rubs her dress on her ass to collet the
cum as it dribbles out. She blows me again as we pull into her
drive way. She gives me her phone number and tells me that I
owe her a fuck and that I have to cum up her cunt to get all her
holes filled! I promise and drive off…

—

The second day of driving, he stopped for lunch and realized
that he would run out of gas before the next town. The more he
looked around, the more he came to realize, this place was
different.

In the town he had left the day before, the women were still
wearing coats and sweaters. Even though spring had just started,
hear the women were running round in Bikini’s and shorts. Tim
looked around and found a casino to go into.

Tim had just finished loading his remaining quarters into a
slot machine, when over at the bar, he noticed a petit oriental
woman staring out onto the gaming floor, sort of looking off at
nothing in particular.

As she turned her body toward Tim, he looked at her, and her
short red dress might as well have had neon letters on it saying
suck my tits and fuck my pussy.

When the slot came up blank, Tim moved over to the bar and
said, “waiting for somebody.”

The young lady looked at him, wet her lips and said, “No.
But I am meeting Mr. March in a half hour. But While I am
waiting, I thought I would begin the search for Mr. April.”

“Oh, you like more than one at a Time, huh?”, said Tim.

She spun her stool so she was facing Tim and extended her
hand and said, “My name is Miyoko. You sound like a sexually
liberated man. Well, I’m a sexually liberated woman in search of
a mate.”

“Sounds interesting,” said Tim, “what do I have to do.”

“Well,” said Miyoko “I don’t want to sound like some kind of
slut, but I could give you a suck job like you’ve never had
before, and then slip you meat into my tight cunt and milk you
dry.”

Tim answered, “If you feel up to it, we can rent a room and
see if your body agrees with what you think.”

“I’d love to, but like I said, in a few minuets I’ve got to
meat a gentleman. Right now, I’m just looking for Mr. April.”
Said Miyoko.

“Who the hell is this Mr. April.” Asked Tim.

“Actually, I don’t know. I hadn’t picked him yet.”
Answered Miyoko. “But you never know you might be Mr. April
yourself.”

“I have no idea what the hell your talking about.” Said
Tim. “I’ve never laid eyes on you before tonight.”

Miyoko explained “March and April are just names that I use.
Like I said. I’m looking for a sexually liberated man. Last
names aren’t important. Besides, I only spend one month with a
guy then I move on. The Mr. March that I’m meeting in a little
while is the gentleman that I’ve been fucking and sucking me for
the past month.”

“I see.” Said Tim.

“And you know,” continued Miyoko, “Their is only a Week in
March, and.” as Miyoko ran her leg up Tim’s to his crotch, “that
means that it is Time for me to start looking for a new cock.
Are you interested.”

“Keep your panties on bitch.” Tim said as he lifted her
dress a little. “Or in your case keep your dress on. Their are
some things I don’t buy without sampling.”

“I think I understand what your saying.” said Miyoko as she
moved her stool closer to Tim’s. “You want to take me upstairs,
slip me out of this flimsy dress, and find out just how tight my
snatch is, how suckable my nipples are, and how talented my
tongue is. Right.”

“You read my mind.” Said Tim.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” said Miyoko as she handed Tim
some money. “You rent us a room. And as soon as I’m through
with Mr. March. I’ll call the casino and have them page Mr. P.
F. April and then I’ll let you know wear to pick me up.”

With not knowing how long Miyoko would be, Tim rented a room
and took the remainder back to the casino and sat down at a
blackjack table. Tim knew that with how much was left, he could
spend several hours on the table, and with the free drinks, he
would be feeling pretty good by the Time Miyoko was ready.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

sat enjoying his coffee in relative silence. It was his first day as a Professor

at the Institute for Science and Technology and already he was bored to tears. He

stared idly into the newspaper, propping his feet on the coffee table, while

lounging his tall frame on the hard couch. As the lounge area started to get more

and more crowded, he decided to head down to his office before his first lecture.

After a moment’s hesitation, he dismissed the thought of introducing himself to

the newcomers, instead he left with a casual, “Good Day” and a wink at the

ladies.

Peering over her mug Dianne asked, “You know him, Janine. What’s the scoop?”

“Who? Dr. Jones? Yes, we’ve met before,” answered Janine. In fact, they had more

than just met. The two of them had quickly become very intimate at Berkeley

several years ago. It took her a couple of months to recover from their caustic

break up, but she still had the urge to kiss him whenever she saw his ruggedly

handsome features. He was the essence of danger, the definition of male

chauvinism personified; yet, she had never stopped loving him.

“He does not look like a scientist, much less the most highly qualified member of

the scientific community,” blurted out Dr. Ronald Peterson. Of course, anyone who

didn’t wear tweed, a pocket protector, and spend enormous amounts of time

bragging about their success meant they probably were not, in Ron’s book at

least, a “Scientific Mind.” It especially meant they didn’t deserve the praise of

all academia like Dr. Jones had won the year before with his brilliantly

conceived breakthrough thesis on the relatively new frontier of Nanotechnology.

“Actually, his work has brought new light to the field of Science,” said Janine.

“From what I hear, he is arrogant, self assured, acts like a teenager, and has no

respect for authority,” spat Ron in disgust. Tiny droplets of spittle flew from

Ron’s mouth as he lectured on about the necessity for authority and correct

behavior being the most important characteristics >>for any Instructor to have

because without them chaos would ensue. “You see, we are considered role models!”

he said, as his hands flew up in agitation.

“I like this Dr. Jones already,” whispered Dianne, diverting her thoughts back

and forth from Dr. Jones to her coffee mug. “I am certain he was watching me

before he left,” she thought as she started to fidget with the top button of her

blouse. She had felt that particular “something” emanating from his open-eyed

stare. Perhaps, it was her imagination, but she still felt his animal magnetism

drawing her attention away from the group discussion.

“Further more, if it were not for his supposed high intelligence and his somewhat

ground breaking work, he would only be an associate professor at a small college

in the middle of nowhere,” droned Ron, as he finally sputtered out of steam.

“Tell us more about him, Janine. This is getting interesting.”

…End of the part1. To be continued..

Except in your dreams, fantasies, and fevered imaginings said my traitorous mind. Even now I got wet just thinking of her, and I felt a wild stab of jealousy at the momentary vision that confronted me: Tennisball Turner kneels naked at the left of a chair. Her distinctive blonde bob has been shaved, as has every inch of the rest of her, although her head has still a single long braid, almost a pigtail, rising from the top. Leather in blue and orange decorates each wrist, each ankle, and her throat. Her hands are locked together behind her in a single sleeve, almost elbow-to-elbow. She’s bound by several short chains into a painful backward arc in a framework upon which two candles are mounted. The candles are positioned so that every few seconds a big drop of hot wax drips onto each of her breasts. When this happens, sharp moans escape her stretched lips and the reading light suspended on a pole, which is shoved into her mouth, jiggles. A hand slaps her wax-splattered right tit, cracking off a large chunk of cooled red wax. “Be quite still, darling,” says the raven-haired Asian in the chair “Mummy’s going to beat you in a minute or so, and if the light keeps moving about it’ll take me longer to read this chapter,” her face hardens and her nostrils flare as she looks down at the helpless slave girl over her glasses “and you wouldn’t like that at all.”

In the tobacco-smelling little office, I checked my watch-fifteen minutes. I closed the door silently. My nipples were hard. I lifted my skirt and rubbed two fingers across my pussy, then touched them to my lips. It reminded me of being kissed by my slave just after she’d eaten me out satisfactorily; a taste like honey and jasmine, with a little hint of bitter lemon rind. I pinched one of my hard nipples through the fabric of my sweater and bra. My clit responded with a tingle. I sat back in the scuffed red leather chair and teased myself, running my finger slowly up my thigh. My mind took me back into the fantasy-only instead of the handsome Asian woman, it was me in the chair.

“I don’t have long, piggy, so get that tongue of yours to work.” In this fantasy her blonde hair is all there, although her pussy has been trimmed to a tiny ‘landing strip’ of fur. She’s wearing nipple clamps hung with two ounces of weight on each side. Her flesh is cruelly marked with red stripes. She displeased me yesterday, although I forget quite what it was. . . Oh but that slutty little tongue of hers! She’s really getting into her work. It makes her happy and wet to please me. Not that wetness does her any good. Her cunt is freshly sealed shut, pierced and padlocked only a few weeks ago, and as for her ass-well that’s currently occupied by a “triple ripple” butt plug which I’ve been training her to enjoy. I ease my haunches forward on the chair, presenting myself to her mouth. If her hands weren’t locked tightly to her collar she’d be fingering me and I’d have cum already. As it is, her tongue flicks my ass and pussy in that rhythm that pushes me over the edge. . . Voices; Outside; Shit! I stopped flicking my clit as the fire inside me banked, then died down. The window in the office door lit up as someone flicked the switch outside. Composing myself I quickly stood up, tucking my blouse back in, smoothing my rumpled skirt, and pulling up my damp panties. Taking a deep breath I glanced in the mirror on the end of the wall shelves. Slightly flushed, but nothing out of the ordinary for a first-day teacher. I sniffed surreptitiously-I always think that my smell gives me away when I’m horny. Not having deodorant with me, I anxiously sprayed a good bit of a can of “Air-Way Smoke-Out”, thoughtfully left by the previous occupant of the room for such emergencies-or maybe not, into the air and walked up and down beneath the hazy cloud.

I opened the door and stepped out into room 108 to find a small group of kids slowly getting bigger as students trickled in. These were grade 10’s-a particularly tough group for a new teacher. They’d seen it all, and were planning to do most of it; or egg someone else into doing it, possibly on video. Grade 10’s are testing adult wings that don’t quite fit yet. They’re ready to fly on their own, mostly, and resent interference, but you can’t quite leave them alone to figure it all out. So you have to be totally available and totally disinterested at the same time.

They stared when I came into the room, and I was conscious of the sudden silence. They could tell from my clothes that I wasn’t a student, but surely this chick was too. . .what? Too young, too . . . put together, for a teacher. I could almost feel the girls narrowing their eyes as I walked to the big desk up front.

I was a bit nonplussed at the attention, especially from male members of the class. After all, I’d spent several hours taking care that my clothes were appropriate for a teacher. They were supposed to be stylish but plain. My heels (a personal conceit-teachers were supposed to wear flats for insurance reasons) were only two inches high. My stockings were plain and dark with a seam up the back; being old-fashioned about underwear I held them up with a garter belt. My skirt was grey and pleated, but respectably knee-length, although it had a disturbing tendency to flare outward a bit. I wore a high-necked blouse with pearl buttons, trimmed with lace at the throat and wrists, with a simple short jacket over all, and my long dark brown hair had been pinned within an inch of its life into a bun. I didn’t realise until I was told, much later, how plain dressing can make a woman sexier than sheer stark nakedness.

The boys in the class shifted uncomfortably in their seats as I turned around and wrote my name on the board: Miss Flock. I’d expected some whispered comments about my last name, but a girl named Althea Flock either gets used to it or changes her name to Karen Smith. But the question I got asked wasn’t quite what I was expecting:

“Hey,” said a boy in the second row “what do we call you?” “I’m Miss Flock” I told him. He had on jeans that puddled around his ankles, a t-shirt with a big green marijuana leaf on it, and a red ball cap turned sideways. “Nah,” he said “what’s your first name?” I was a bit stunned, and reacted from pure instinct. “I don’t have one as far as you’re concerned Mister . .?” “Fisher,” he said “Jerry Fisher-but everybody calls me Fish.” His mouth was open, and his hair hung over his eyes beneath the brim of his cap. “I’m not everybody, so I’ll call you Mister Fisher,” I answered “and take off that hat, please.” I think it was only surprise that made him do it.

People think teachers haven’t got ears. Students will talk, even while other teachers are present, and they don’t seem to understand how much of what they talk about makes it back to the staff room. During my first year I gained a reputation as a fierce disciplinarian, but a parallel reputation for being fair and for working things through. I didn’t hesitate to give detentions, which surprised and appalled a lot of parents and brought me into a lot of conflict both with them and with the school administration. But I stood my ground, sacrificed my time, and gradually the parents came to know me as the teacher who could get the best work out of their kids. Almost all their kids.

For my part, I settled into school life like I’d been born to it, and for five years I taught high school English and History. I was satisfied and doing useful work. Eventually I got used to the loneliness too.

It wasn’t that I didn’t get offers. In the first couple of years every straight male teacher (and one I wasn’t certain about) and a couple of the gay female ones made me offers. I always felt awkward turning them down. My fling with Tennisball and the discomfort of sharing classes with her after it all came apart (after I broke it apart), or of seeing her around and the misery it brought on, were still pretty fresh to me. I cautiously accepted a few invitations, had second dates with a few men; turned down all the women.

It wasn’t that I was “denying my gay self” or something. I just didn’t feel anything for them. It was that “plain toast, no jam” feeling. Not that I got anything much from dating the few men I spent time with. I took a couple of them home; actually saw one man for several months. We had sex, and it was terrific overall, but eventually the whole relationship came down to sex. There wasn’t anything else. So I thanked him and said goodbye. It wasn’t quite that simple-I wound up sleeping with him occasionally for nearly a year before I decided it was doing me more harm than good.

Once again I said goodbye, and once again he was nice about it. We talked by phone occasionally, but I wasn’t very encouraging, and eventually the phone went silent too. I spent a lot of time working out or reading, and slowly got used to being alone. Then something happened that made my tiny flickering flame roar up and consume me.

At the beginning of the fifth year I worked at the school, I arrived early, masturbated quickly (it had become something of a habit), and walked into the classroom from my little office, which smelt less like smoke and more like sandalwood nowadays.

The new students, a grade 12 History class, were grouped around the room in the usual dribs and drabs. I’d had some of them in prior years. Clearly they’d told their friends about me, because as soon as I arrived there was a bit of a scramble to take seats. I felt the eyes crawling up my legs to my ass, then to my back as I strolled up the row, heels clicking. I deliberately put a slow wiggle in my walk-it would be useless for me to pretend any longer that I didn’t enjoy the looks I always got on the first day. At the front of the room, I wrote my name on the board and turned to face them.

“Good morning,” I began “I’m Miss Flock. It seems like you already know my general rules. I expect you to behave professionally towards me, just as I will towards you. I’m going to get your names from you now.”

The front row consisted of Jeff McWhirter, a skinny boy in a ratty t-shirt and glasses. I noted the shirt and made a mental check to remind him of the both the school’s dress code and my class dress code, which was somewhat stricter. Next to Jeff was Linda Long, who vaguely reminded me of a spaniel puppy. Beside her was Calvin Chung, a thin Chinese boy I guessed was both bright and gay, as was the long scarf he wore. The fourth seat was vacant.

Like most teachers and preachers, I hate vacant seats at the front. I looked over the room of blonde and brunette heads to the very back. I caught a glimpse of swirling black hair with a single blue streak, pale bare shoulders, and the distinctive “T” of a g-string visible above the waistband of a pair of “Sho-T” brand jeans (the hot brand for teen no-longer-wannabe-virgins that year). The owner was seated, leaning into the aisle as she rummaged in an oversized canvas book bag.

“Excuse me,” I said, pointing “Yes, you. What’s your name please?” There was a mumble. “I beg your pardon?” I said. “Sue.” “Sue who?” I heard a solitary giggle from somewhere.

The girl I’d addressed stood up, hips cocked and head tilted in that gesture that makes teenage girls look like 40-year-old hookers. Her g-string arced over her pretty hips under a half-shirt with no bra that I could see. And I was looking. God was I looking!

Have you ever heard the expression “wide-on”? It’s the female equivalent of a rampaging hard-on. But that was what I was experiencing. Deep in my mind something said Oh-oh. But my little lizard brain was raving Bite her! Catch her! Eat her up! FUCK her! My nipples were hard under my jacket, and I think anyone three feet away could have smelt my arousal.

“Sue” was what my mother would have called gammon: short and slim with wavy black hair that hid her face. Later on in the term, when I actually got to see her face, it was pixie-like, freckled and mischievous, and never far from a predatory grin. At the moment she stood with an old, old “fuck you” expression behind that hair. Her eyes sparkled with a happy malevolence.

“I’d like you to move up to the front desk, Miss. . .” I groped.

She didn’t rescue me. In my flustered embarrassment I glanced at the class list before me. It swam into focus, and after what seemed like an eternity but took only a few long seconds (which is plenty long enough if a class thinks you’ve lost the upper hand) I spotted the name “Castle, Susan”.

“. . . Castle.” I almost gasped. My eyes were swimming, and the blood pounded in my veins. I fought hard for control. I was a professional, damn it! In an effort to regain a measure of self-discipline I looked at her visible panties.

“Are you aware of the school dress code, Miss Castle?” Another mumble; more-or-less affirmative. “Speak up please.” Another mumble. “I still,” I said through gritted teeth “Can’t hear you. Shall we try once more for comprehensibility?” “I said yeah!” she nearly shouted “I know the stupid dress code!”

“Susan,” I said after the shocked pause which followed “I’d like you to take this seat here,” I pointed to the fourth seat in the front row “And I’ll see you this evening in detention.”

Her mouth, still largely hidden by hair, dropped open. “What’d I DO?” “You just said you knew the school dress code. Four B’s, right? No bellies, no boobs, no backs, no bums. Do I need to explain that you’ve violated at least three of those?”

There was scattered laughter. Susan stared at me with murder in her eyes. Then she flounced dramatically from the back of the room to the front. On the way she made very sure to brush past me closely, sure that I’d step away. But it wasn’t the first time a student had tried to physically intimidate me, and I stood firm.

Our hands brushed together. Just the briefest of touches; But she looked at me, into my eyes, and in that fraction of a second I felt an electricity pass through me. Oh no, Althea. I told myself sternly, this is poison-the worst and nastiest kind. As abruptly as it came on, the shock receded, and Sue Castle, whom I began to address as Ms. Castle from that day on, flopped into the vacant desk. I regained my composure, and finished calling the roll.

Over the first weeks of that year, Susan earned a number of detentions from me for violating the “4-B” dress code. Finally she settled into what became her uniform: Stirrup pants and an oversized sweater a la Marilyn Monroe-a look I thought was outdated, but which somehow made her even more of a sex-pot than her friends who were trying unsuccessfully to emulate teenage pop stars (while still covering the school minimum of flesh).

Susan had definitely begun discovering the benefits of being female in a crowd of hormone-crazed teen boys. She got respect from the jocks because she stood up to them, but hung out with the nerds, possibly making her the most popular girl in school. But her marks were atrocious, her conduct disrespectful, and she had serious discipline problems.

II wasn’t sure she was entirely unaware of the effect she had on me, either. When I told her to wait after class was dismissed she would deliberately stand too close to me, making me feel flustered and hot.

And horny. I was continually surprised and somehow angry at that. But damn it!-she was seventeen. Three years over the age of consent but nine years younger than me. And, I thought, she couldn’t possibly have any idea of the sort of things that crept into my head when she looked at me so insolently in class:

Susan Castle is standing outside my office door. She is wearing a thin, long cotton T-shirt and nothing else, as she has been instructed. Inside the office, I am waiting and wet. I slip the dildo into its harness, and then slide the free end into my pussy with a grunt. I tighten the buckles on the straps which cup my ass and hips. I always love the look of the dildo thrusting up from my crotch. Do men feel like this, I wonder? Apart from the dildo and its harness I am wearing a pair of stockings, a bustier, and opera-length gloves. The room has been prepared. Several candles flicker on the shelves, making my rubber cock cast shadows that would give old Sister Chang from high school nightmares. Hanging from assorted hooks along the wall behind my desk are some toys: A thick strap called a strapple, a piece of bamboo cane, a shiny pair of clamps (nipple or labia-oh no, the clothespins for naughty pussy lips are over there). Satisfied with the arrangements, I call out: “Enter”. I cross my arms and stand facing the door with my feet apart. The door swings open of its own accord. Susan enters with an old-fashioned candlestick. Her eyes are big, dark and a little fearful, riveted to the jutting phallus between my thighs. I melt inside, wanting to hold her to me and tell her its all going to be alright, that I’d never really hurt her. But I can’t-she needs to know that I am the one in control. Ordered to place the candlestick on the desk, Susan attempts to straighten up. But I have a gloved hand firmly in her hair. I push firmly downward. “You will enter this room only on your knees from now on, slave.” Obediently she kneels. I slap her face. “You will answer me with your little mouth,” such a tight little rosebud of a mouth-I want to kiss it. I want to pinch her lips with clothespins, I want to bite them “and what I will hear from that dirty little mouth will be ‘Yes Mistress’. Have you quite got that?” She almost nods for a minute. But eventually says: “Y-yes Mistress.” There’s no foreplay. “I’m going to fuck all your holes, right now, just to prove I can; to prove that you’re my property. Won’t that be nice?” “Yes M-Mmmmph!” as I drive the dildo between her lips. She resists for a moment, and I take a short sash cord from the desk and whip her vigorously. After about ten stripes have blossomed on her back and ass, to the accompaniment of shocked squeals, I feel the dildo fully inserted in her mouth. She’s looking up at me from my crotch, inquiringly. I fuck her mouth for a few strokes, then pull out. At my command she turns and presents her behind to me. I order her to put her head to the floor, tossing a textbook down so that she won’t risk wood burn. She almost wiggles in pleasure as I drive the first inch of the dildo into her cunt. But I stop almost as soon as I’ve begun, and she whimpers as I withdraw. “You cum without permission, slut, and I’ll whip you sixty times with the cane.” I hiss at her. An empty threat. She’s never been caned before, and her tender ass would bleed before I gave the tenth stroke. But she doesn’t know that. She also doesn’t know that I don’t know her anywhere near well enough to stop her from cumming if she started. But I rely on her honesty. I grab her ass firmly and spread her cheeks. Her puckered little asshole is porn-star clean, as I specified. Fingering a large dollop of lubricant into her hole, I begin intruding with the dildo. Her whimpering becomes moaning, then crying out. “If you want this to stop, all you need to do is use your safe word, slave.” She knows-but I have to be sure. As I seat the dildo inside her to the hilt, I feel the tension relax inside her as she opens up and admits her Mistress. I glory in the trust and triumph, and as the dildo slips in and out of both of us, I smack her ass triumphantly and start to cum. . . . See what I mean? What seventeen-year-old could possibly share that dream?
Susan settled into her seat, and for the entire term she never once raised her hand. If I called on her she’d either ignore me, looking out the window, or else she’d stare at me blankly. There wasn’t much I could do beyond give her another detention.

After her first report card, neither of her parents came to parent-teacher night. Since she was in great danger of failing, I took it upon myself to call her listed phone number. Receiving no reply, I attempted to contact her parents at work. At her father’s workplace number I was told that Mr. Castle was away at the moment and probably wouldn’t be back for several weeks. Her mother’s listed employer-the construction firm of Stonewall and Mason-told me that Mrs. Castle no longer worked for them. Intrigued, I pulled her file card at the office-technically a no-no but easily done if one knew the file clerk.

There were two listed addresses. The first was in a gated community at the top of the hill forty-five minutes from town. The security guard took my name and number, and then explained that he couldn’t let me in, as Mrs. Castle hadn’t left my name with him, but I could wait with him if I chose. Meantime, his eyes travelled hungrily up my legs to my neckline, but never got as high as my chin. I tried to give him a withering look, but I think he just thought I was squinting to read his badge number.

The second address was on what would normally be called the wrong side of town. It was a once-pretty single-storey wooden house, with a battered picket fence. Weeds and rusty swings languished in the backyard, complimented by more weeds and litter in the front. I would have thought it was an abandoned house except for the man coming out.

He wore a faded blue robe, and had a faded handsomeness himself. His feet were bare. He limped and had a thin black cigarette in his mouth and a clinking bag in his hand. He raised his head and no doubt caught me staring from my car, because he waved sardonically, then flipped me the bird. He dumped several bottles into the trash can at the side of the house, and went back in. I heard yelling.

I had put the car in gear when a dark mop of hair poked out the door, there was more yelling, and then the door of the house flew open, and Sue crossed the weedy yard at a run. I hammered the gas to the floor, and peeled out. It was guilt, of course. I had a semi-legitimate reason to be there, but at the same time, something told me that I didn’t want to be caught lurking around a student’s home.

But as I drove off, I looked in the rear view mirror. The figure standing on the sidewalk was just a silhouette in the late afternoon sun, its fists balled by its side. But that silhouette looked defeated, angry, hurt and unhappy. And I’m a teacher first. I put on the brakes and reversed toward her.

Sue slouched to the driver’s side, head down, not meeting my gaze. “He’s inside.” I was flustered for a moment. “Who’s inside, Miss Castle?” “My Dad. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Wasn’t it? I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to Mr. Castle. Moreover, I wasn’t sure he’d care, that he’d understand the importance of what I needed to tell him-that the years between his daughter’s age and mine were important ones, and that those years could make a difference between his daughter being successful and happy, or . . . or not.

But it wasn’t her father, or her mother I really needed to talk to. I’d had conversations before with other students, even with Sue-although not with any results that I could see. Perhaps it was worth one last try. Even now I wonder whether I might have already been seeing the little signs of how my life and Sue’s were to change.

“Get in.” I said, swinging open my passenger door. Susan climbed in without asking where we were going. It crossed my mind that I could have been a kidnapper; a rapist; anyone, and she’d still climbed in. Then I almost laughed-goody-two-shoes Miss Flock, with her grey woollen skirts and her plain blouse and glasses-a rapist, and a lesbian rapist at that!

But my oh my-did I ever want to be!

Galloping through fields of golden wheat
basking in late summer’s heat
Reigning in at water’s edge
mere feet from the towering mountain ledge

Rising cliffs of dirt and clay
keep the rushing wind at bay
Water’s surface like glass a shimmer
sings of sirens’s song of come hither

Upon dismounting I steady your stead
experiencing my growing animalistic need
Setting the horses aside to graze
observing this scene in a heavenly daze

Valley outstretched in summer green
trees dotted laboriously about the scene
Mirror blue lake at valley’s end
fed by falls as the water descends

High in the sky the sun shines bright
making comfort an unbearable fight
Stripping down to nature’s suit
we prepare ourselves for a cool pursuit

Diving into the deep cool blue
surfacing to gaze lustily at you
Easing in with the utmost care
you cause my heart to flutter with despair

Swimming so slowly up to you
encircling your body in this bed of blue
Never before has anyone seen
a picture of beauty so pure and clean

Drawing your form ever closer to me
arousing the animal yearning to be
Lifting as breast scrape against my chest
feeling your heat rise from your nest

Legs wrap around while lowering you down
impaling you deeply upon my crown
Animal lust washes us through
as deeper I thrust myself in you

Our crescent comes with deep surprise
exploding our bodies from deep inside
Exquisite pleasure comes in joyous spasms
entwining our bodies in simultaneous orgasm

Hours have passed with the sands of time
ending this day of your’s and mine
Easing down upon the shore
we feast on a picnic made this morn

With feelings of unity we prepare to leave
this dreamlike setting nature did weave
I help you mount your steed on high
as off we set on the evening ride

Gliding along at a leisurely walk
enjoying the closeness of lover’s talk
Across the path fleet a herd of deer
flushed from cover by coming too near

Towards a farm we start to ride
as the sun from the sky does slide
All my surroundings fade to black
while I seem to be falling back

I open my eyes to the light of dawn
knowing from whence my soul is drawn
Looking about at the ice cold gray
seeing the bars of another day

Into reality again I awake
wishing my freedom I could take
My dreams allow my thoughts to see
how I think my life should be

When life lowers to hues of blue
my mind projects an image of you
I focus upon the beauty of kinship
then close my eyes for a joyful trip.

William B. Morris
—————————————————————————-
Sorry, no requests for reposts, missing parts, GIFs, FTP sites, etc. can be
honored. If you find getting stories from this newsgroup inconvenient, the
archive is available on disk. Send a blank email to
adultarc@tommys.spydernet.com for more information. Authors wishing to
have files added to or removed from the THC Public archive should contact
me at: tommy@tommys.spydernet.com. Please refer comments to
alt.sex.stories.d or to e-mail. Thank you.
-=( Tommy )=-

There she sat, Karen and Scoot, hanging out. It was wonderful, his kisses,
his embraces, his strength. She felt as though it would engulf her as
he swirled his tongue inside of her mouth and she tased his sweetness.
It was too much, his hand on her legs was slowly making her hornier and
hornier: almost driving her ot of control.

“Stop,” she said: she turned around and put on some country music to
slow down the tone.

His hand kept going up and down her thighs, it was getting faster and
faster and faster: The stimulation was making her hot and wet and weat
all over. Karen’s brow was getting damper and damper as the heat built
up between her thighs. Finally, to torment him, she reached between
his thighs and started to stoke his penis: slowly at first but with
growing rapidity. At least, she thought, all is fair in love and war…

______________________________________________________________________________

Scott started sweating as his penis grew harder and harder… the tension
was almost unbearable and his penis felt as though it would explode.
It was getting to the point of no return… but Karen knew what she was
doing, she was slowly building up the tension inside of him: feeding on
his sexual frustrations and his sexual desires. It was geting too much
for him, she knew, as her hand rubbed up and down and made him feel like
a sex object.

“Oh, Karen, stop…” he gasped. Scott started taking off his pants
but Karen promptly stopped him. It was too early, she thought, it was
probably a little beter to tease him some more.

“Karen, I want you…” these were words that she heard a million times.
None of them meant it — it always seemed like a farce. But, this
time, for some absurd reason, it seemed as though Scott really wanted
her in more ways than one. His body pressed hotly against her crotch,
Karen could feel that she was getting more and more moist by the minute.
The heat, the tension was getting unbearable and her desire for sex was
just getting too severe.

“Scott, stop,” she whispered unbelievably as he stuck his hand into
her pants, sticking his fingers so that they would stroke up and down
her wetness. “Stop Scott, you’re going too fast” — she knew that he
thought that she wanted more but she had to say it anyways; it was just
all part of the good girl image that all women had to keep…

______________________________________________________________________________

More later…

It was another long, late night in the lab at work. This is a great job,

but the occasional “crunch” times explains why so few people survive more

than a handful of years. The problems are rewarding, and correct solutions let

me attend national trade conferences as an “engineering expert”, answering deep

questions on state-of-the-art technology for any of the twenty thousand people

attending from all facets of the industry. That’s the real “high” of all this

grinding: to look over a huge convention trade hall, filled with the most active

people in the whole high-tech industry, and be publically acknowledged as one of

the very few who actually *creates* the magic.

In all humility, I am merely the representative of a team of 20 to 50 people

who worked equally hard; my specialty outside design is that I can translate the

world of pull-up transistors and half-latches into the information needs of a

potential sales representative for a major customer. I can do it for 15 hours a

day for a week at a time, and keep track of who I have told what, and how much

they seem to like it. Our sales force loves me, and it gives me that one skill

outside my own department that I need for long-term advancement in the company.

True power is being among the best, and being able to get other people to recog-

nize it. Thanks to my God and my teachers, I am both.

Tonight, however, was one of those nights lost in the shuffle of “nine parts

perspiration.” I had taken once again to working midnight to about 10AM, so I

could get a peaceful environment and all the machine cycles I could eat. I have

a whole stable of routines that start their deliberations as soon as enough

people leave for their families and night life; by the time I come in, I had

quite enough diagnostic information in my electronic mailbox to take the next

step in debugging. Sometimes, I can take a few good ideas and get Jeff to

run them during the day; sometimes, I do the same for him. Between us, we cut

about 10% of the development time out of the overall department schedule, and

our stock options bear witness to our continued effectiveness. We even see one

another about once a week in these times.

That night, however, I had things almost all to myself. Someone was working

in the layout area across the floor; the overhead lights were on, and I could

see a few brown curls bob occasionally between there and the offices to the

right. Probably Debbie, one of the brightest of our new college crop last June.

She has a quick mind and a good insticnt for the correct solution, but she still

has a hard time letting go of “her” solution when a better one comes up. Also,

she puts in even more graveyard time than I did. The pace of work here will fix

both those deficiencies within three years, one way or the other. I was in no

position to guide her into more productive paths, as we rarely shared a problem

on a day-to-day basis.

I looked over the last batch of diagnostic output, and cursed myself for a

novice. I’d just wasted four hours of clock time, although with the low system

…End of the part1. To be continued..

I stopped to pick up the girl on the side of the road. She was
wearing a soft cotten dress. As we drove on we talked about all sorts
of things. Then she asked me if I wanted a blow job in payment for the
ride! I am no fool ,so I quickly pull off and pull down my jeans!

As we drive her head bobs up and down my fat cock! She pushes two fingers
up my ass and dives down till the head of my cock is pushed
down her throat! I cum in long thick spurts! she gags on the sticky
fluid as it fills her cheaks.

She pulls her mouth off my cock but continues to pump it with her
hand. Her breasts are big and hang heavy. Her skin is a deep brown
from many hours of sun bathing. I watch her nipples poking through
the cloth of the dress! My dick is still like a rock, so I pull into the
median strip on the highway. She gets out and I step out also.
she climbs onto the hood of the car and spreads her thighs. I stand
there (with out pants on) my cock pointing towards her. I push my
mouth onto her cunt! The fat lips part as the juices she had been
holding back come gushing out into my mouth! I eat and suck and
lick her sweet pussy. I slip first one finger ,then two ,then three
fingers up into her asshole and pump them as I tongue fuck her
cunt! I bite and pull on the fat lips and smear her juices on to
her thin line of pubic hair! She moans and twists around my fingers
shoved up her ass and my mouth on her mound!

She shoves me back (my fingers make a little -pop- as they slip
out of her ass) then turns around and bends over the front of the
car. I slowly push the head of my cock up into her pussy. She grunts and
trys to get more cock in in a shorter time, but I will not
allow that. I finally get all 7 1/2″s of cock up into her! We start
fast and she screams and pounds on the hood of the car as she is
fucked savagely!! I pump and pump and pump into her. Her cunt is tight and
she works my cock like a pro!

I pull out quickly!! She gasps and almost falls off the car. But I
grab her and quickly re-insert my now slick cock up her ass hole!
She Cums like a banshee as I fire my wads of hot sticky cum up her
ass! I continue to pump her ass till she is completely satisfied!

As we drive along she rubs her dress on her ass to collet the
cum as it dribbles out. She blows me again as we pull into her
drive way. She gives me her phone number and tells me that I
owe her a fuck and that I have to cum up her cunt to get all her
holes filled! I promise and drive off…

—

Deb looked classy — I liked her tightly creased pants and high
heels. Her short, light brown hair had blond highlights and
swept over the top of her head. She wore dark glasses that
framed her piercing brown eyes. Her lips were shiny with
lipstick and when I saw the stain on her beer glass I thought
about what it would be like to have a similar stain around my
cock. Her small mouth seemed barely big enough to fit around my
generous member — but I wanted the chance to see.

She was keeping up with me in beers and since I was starting to
feel pretty good, I knew that she had to be as well. We talked
about dope. “I haven’t been stoned in years,” she said. I
invited her out to my Jeep for a smoke and she agreed.

We tuned up and talked. “God, I’m horny,” she blurted. No need
to tell me twice — I leaned over and kissed her. We sat kissing
for several minutes, then she rested her hand on the inside of my
thigh. My hardening cock was only a couple inches away. She
moved her hand up and rest it gently on my dick. It wasted no
time in getting hard as rock; “you’re hung like a horse!” Deb
exclaimed as she ran her hand over my masterpiece. “Take a
look”, I offered as I unzipped my pants and pulled them to my
knees. My rockhard shaft bounced free and pointed straight up.

Deb bent over and put the head of my cock into her small mouth.
I could see her cheeks expand as she worked more of the shaft in.
She lathered up the head with her spit and went to work on me. I
leaned back and relaxed, watching Deb’s head bob and parry on my
engorged penis. My orgasm came quickly under her expert suck;
“I’m cuming!” I groaned. She moaned something and put in the
little extra effort necessary to bring me off. My hips thrust
forward as I popped into Deb’s mouth. She continued her up and
down motions as my balls burst forth their nectar deep into her
mouth. When she withdrew my cock, its shaft was gooey with my
spunk.
—

When I broke my right leg after being up at the resort for only a few
days, I thought the good times were finished. But after a day or
two, when all that was left of the skiing accident was my leg in a
cast, I started to get friendly with Elizabeth. Sleek and slender
with long auburn hair and cat-green eyes, she had the kind of boobs
that made my mouth go dry. Her ski sweater filled to over-flowing.

Everyone was out on the slopes, and Elizabeth and I were in my room,
laying in front of the fire. Elizabeth had her head nestled on my
shoulder and one leg over my cast. I inhaled the fragrance from her
hair, then I started to kiss her throat and her ear. She moaned
softly.

I slid my hand in the back of her sweater and slowly started to rub
her back. Elizabeth sighed and snuggled closer. I explored her silky
mouth with my tongue; when I found a sensitive spot, she responded
with a little shiver. Elizabeth sucked my tongue. I nibbled on her
lips, licked them, and they seemed to swell with passion.

I felt Elizabeth press her crotch against my cast. She murmured with
pleasure and pressed again, harder. I slipped my hand into her
panties, massaging and squeezing her. In slow, easy waves, Elizabeth
rubbed herself against my leg.

“This is heaven,” she whispered.

She stripped off her panties, and when I started to get up, she said,
“No, don’t move.” She snuggled against me again. Her pussy flashed a
bright pink – now I knew where the term “hot pink” came from – and
her clitoris stood out, wet and slick with her arousal. She dipped
her fingers into her lovehold and gave me a taste, letting me suck
her fingers clean.

Furiously now, Elizabeth began to hump my cast, jerking her hips up
and down, rubbing her love juice over me, grinding her clit into my
leg. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open in concentration. She
was panting, and her voice was a steady sing-song of passion.

A powerful orgasm soon shook her entire body. She gave a small
scream, her legs quivering. She twitched and pushed her spasming
pussy against my cast. “Oh, that’s so good,” she said. Later, after
she had gotten her breath back, she murmured, “Thank you.”

Since returning from the ski trip, Elizabeth has come over to my
place several times – and it is amazing how creative that girl is
with a cast!

–

Julie was a large, intelligent woman. She stood close

to 6 feet tall and had probably been rather overweight at one

time but had obviously gotten it well under control. She had

black hair and green eyes that always looked sharply and could

sparkle with fun at times. Obviously highly intelligent, you

could never be sure exactly what she was thinking.

Her figure was ample, perhaps 42-38-42, and her strong

frame gave her a well-put-together look. She always dressed

impeccably at work, wearing clothes that flattered her while

remaining relatively conservative.

Julie and I had always gotten along well, sharing jokes

in the elevator or just smiling and saying hi in the hallways.

I had always been attracted to her. I like that self confidence

that allows a woman to smile unabashedly at men in a way that

says that she never feels herself to be less than they. Julie

was definitely an strong and assertive woman, and easily the

equal to any man.

One day I was getting a drink at the water fountain down

the hall when she walked by. The water fountain was located

around a bend in the hall from the office doors, and was next

to the door to the ladies room. She had just come out of the

ladies room, and as she walked by she gently swatted my seat. I

was so surprised I almost bumped my head on the wall behind the

fountain.

“Now now!” I said as I quickly straightened up and

looked after her. She looked back with a big grin and then

turned and walked back to me.

“You want some more, little boy?” she teased, grinning

wider and looking slightly down on me.

“You’d better watch out.” I shot back. “I might take

you up on that!”

She took a breath, thrusting her large breasts out at me

slightly. “You might, eh?” she said, still grinning. “And what

if I said ‘Let’s’?”

My heart began to pound and I said “I’d like that, I’m

sure.”

“Step this way, young man.” she said, and, taking my

hand, led me around the corner away from the office to another

short hall section where she opened a phone closet door. My

heart was pounding louder now, and I was already feeling a glow

of warmth coming over me. My nerves tingled with tension and

anticipation. I had had dreams like this occasionally for

months, but never considered them a real possibility.

She closed the door behind us and turned on a small

light bulb in the closet, which was actually fairly large. It

…End of the part1. To be continued..

Archive-title: Jenny

I had always liked Jenny, though I didn’t know her well personally. We

worked together on the night shift. Us night-timers have a slightly different

perspective on the world that most other people on ‘normal’ shifts. We’re often

driving on streets devoid of life at 3AM, and spend a lot of time at home

because nothing’s open. And then we sleep through the morning, when everybody

else is alive and awake. It’s a very lonely life most of the time.

Jenny suffered from this as much as I. She had come to town almost a year

ago, and because of her hours, she hadn’t had so much as one date in all that

time. Often she would grumble about the lack of a social/sex life. There were

plenty of guys on the night shift, but for some reason she didn’t seem

interested. More than a few of them were interested, though. She stood about 5

foot seven and was rather busty. She was a bit overweight, but not seriously

and I found it quite a turn-on. It made her seem more real, somehow. More than

once I had half-jokingly offered my services, only to be turned down with an

appreciative smile. I could never seem to work up the nerve to come out and ask

her for a date. Mostly it was because I was certain she’d turn me down and

rejection was something I didn’t really care for.

I don’t know what got into me one night. It was a Saturday and we both had

gotten roped into putting in a ‘little overtime’. If you consider 10 hours

‘little’. Anyway, it was about 9PM and we both sat down to lunch. Since there

was no one else there we actually talked to each other. Somehow the

conversation got around to dates, and I asked her just what it was she looked

for in a guy.

“Well,” she said musingly, “looks aren’t all that important, I guess. A good

personality is more important.” She was silent for a moment, thinking. “Right

now what I would like to find most is somebody who’s good in bed. After a year

of nothing I’m getting kind of, well, itchy.”

My heart gave a jump at that and my temperature rose ten degrees. I got up

to get a cup of coffee from the machine behind her. As I did, I said, “How do

you expect to find somebody like that? Advertise?”

She chuckled. “I can see it now: Lonely woman seeks good fucker. Low pay but

great fringe benefits.”

“Those benefits look pretty good to me.” I said, still standing behind her

and sipping my coffee. My heart had calmed, but I was still tense.

Anticipatory, perhaps. “But seriously, that’s what you’re looking for? Not just

any old guy who can get it up?”

“Uh uh.” She said softly, almost dreamily. “It would be tempting, but hell,

if the guy doesn’t know what he’s doing, it just isn’t really worthwhile. Not

for me, anyway. For him it’s probably great.”

The it was my turn to laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. Some guys are like that.

They just want to, um, get off and go to sleep. But there are some who are

different, ya know.”

“Oh, really?” she said, still seemingly in a trance.

“Sure.” I said. I put the cup down. “For some of us half the fun is in

making the other person feel good.” I placed my hands on her shoulders, though

…End of the part1. To be continued..

On top of the very nice physical package she was friendly, chatty and gave
a WONDERFUL lap dance. She touched as much as the law would allow, and maybe a
bit more. And as time had gone on (this was the sixth time I had come in
during the past 5 months) her dances for me had gotten just a little more
risque, a little hotter, a little more daring. She let me touch her back quite
a bit too, but I was always careful not to go over the line. It was still
great. She also gave lip-kisses. Most of the girls would only give you a
little nip on the cheek. Little details like that mean a lot to me.

Anyway, we were there and my buddy got up to go to the restroom. As he
walked away, I sighed, considering the fact I only had $22 bucks left of the
$130 I had started with, and observed that it was unfortunate the evening was
going to have to end fairly soon.

“How come?” Her voice wasn’t bad either, not the gravelly, husky female
voice that made me melt, but pretty nice all the same.

I explained the money thing. I usually got 4 or 5 (3 or 4 from her)
dances and 3-4 overpriced drinks when I came in. She knew my limits, but
I’d only had two of her dances tonight — she had been with other customers.

She leaned down with her lips to my right ear and pressed her warm soft
cheek to mine. I loved it when she did that. She did it quite a bit.

“Who says it has to end?” she asked softly.

That raised my eyebrows. She never pushed me to haul out my plastic for
her, never pushed period. A rarity, and yet another thing I liked about her
(you’re gonna be sick of all the little details I liked about this woman before
I’m done).

That left one possibility, one I’d never seriously considered before. It
was against club policy for dancers to go out with customers. Naturally the
owners were afraid of getting nailed for pimping or something, or even being
innocent bystanders in a prostitution scandal. But it sure sounded like she
was proposing a little after-work get-together. So the questions were 1) Is
she a cop? or 2) Is she a hooker?

I craned my neck around to look her in the eyes, and she shifted slightly
to help me out.

“Care to elaborate on that?” I asked.

She smiled impishly and leaned forward. Her hair spilled around our faces
and I could smell her breath. It was sweet from the call drinks we’d both had.
She touched her forehead to mine and whispered, “You’re always really sweet.
You’re friendly and you don’t try to pull a big come-on. I like that a lot.
I’d also like to spend the rest of the night with you. No strings, just fun.”
She leaned back to gauge my reaction.

She needn’t have bothered. My cock had gotten rock hard in seconds, and
as I stared back, trying to formulate a witty assent worthy of James Bond, she
pressed her leg into my erection, waggled her eyebrows suggestively and said “I
think I’ve got a ‘yes’ here.” I grinned at her and we made plans hurriedly
before my buddy came back from the restroom.

To shorten things a bit, let’s just say that it required a bit of timing
and my dashing about at high speed in my Grand Prix to get me separated from
my buddy (luckily he lived nearby) and back with Julie without her fellow
club workers noticing. Her apartment was much closer than mine, so we headed
there. I was as excited as all hell, but during the short trip alone back to
the club, I resolved that since she was giving me the most princely gift of her
beautiful body, I had to see to it that she enjoyed this evening as much as
possible. It would be my gift to her.

We had a difficult time getting into her apartment. We kept stopping
every few steps and kissing strongly. For a long time I had desired to *really*
kiss her, as opposed to the brief ones we were allowed at the club. She would
press her warm body up against mine and move up and down, stroking me with
her entire self, while our tongues “dueled like soft, moist sabers” (I’ve
always liked that line). It was wonderful, but I restrained myself as much as
possible. Crazy animalistic sex would be great, but it wasn’t what I wanted
to do for her right now. I wanted to add in a lot of tease, to make her beg
for release, to drive her crazy. I’m no Don Juan, but on the few occasions
I’d had opportunity to do this in the past, my partners were always VERY grate-
ful.

Finally, we staggered into the bedroom. She’d lost her top and I my
shirt. We flopped onto the bed, still kissing madly, but I’d managed to slow
the pace down to just intense instead of wild. Stroking her smooth back, I
eased her onto her stomach and moved up to whisper in her ear.

“Just relax for a while and let me do the work. Let it be my thanks for
your having me over.” Yeah, yeah, “having me over” isn’t all that romantic
sounding, but I didn’t want to get really gushy and say “make love”, and “have
sex” seemed *much* too cold.

“Mmmmmm,” she purred, and smiled sexily, settling onto the bed with a cute
wiggle. I took that as a “yes”, as I reached over and turned on a small lamp.
The light was subdued but ample. Excellent.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

It was a clear hot August morning and she was walking the way
women walk when they want you to know that their destination is an
erotic one. I pulled out my microcassette recorder and didn’t
press down any buttons. I spoke into it as she came near. “It was
a clear hot August morning and she was walking the way women walk
when they want you to know that their destination is an erotic
one.”
She stopped. “God damn it. God damn you.” She smoothed the
yellow of her dress under her and sat down on the bench. She
continued. “You didn’t press the record button. What a
bullshitter.”
“You noticed.”
“Fraid so, slick. You did it for *my* benefit?”
“You’re *here*…”
“So how many girls do you pick up that way?”
“Counting you?”
She bent down and adjusted the heel strap on her sandal.
“Actually,” I said, “I was not looking to pick anyone up.”
“Well then why did you drop that bomb?”
I pointed at the sculpture in front of the library building
and then down to the walk. The way the sun was hitting the edge of
the sculpture it was casting gorgeous crazy shadows along the walk.
“So it was a gift, then? But not to me. To the day.”
“Yup. That’s all.”
“Thanks, I guess,” she said. Then she took the recorder from
my hand, pressed down ‘record’ and ‘play’ and said, “It was a
dreary wet December day and he was walking the way truck drivers
walk when they have to take a dump.”
“Hey, you’re good.”
“Think so?” She handed the recorder back to me.
“Oh yeah. Could be–”
“Better? Could be better? You think you can do better, don’t
you?”
“To be honest, yeah. But what do I w–”
“All right, I’ll make you a deal. If you do better, you can
have me.”
“And if I don’t?”
“No confidence?”
I pressed the ‘record’ and ‘play’ and said, “It was a heavy
September morning and he was walking the way truck drivers walk
when they want you to know they have to take a dump.”
As we walked off she said, “Hey, you were right.”
I felt her hand around my tricep and looked over at her.
“About my destination,” she said, and we walked on.

RICHH

He looked up as she did and their eyes held each other just a little
too long, self-consciously. He smiled at her and she felt a little
embarassed. So she looked down and smiled, brushing the bangs out
of her eyes as she looked up again.

He turned his attention to the pack of Juicy Fruits. As he picked
it up and swiped it across the barcode reader, she could see his
rather muscular hand ever so gently squeezing the pack. She then
pretended the totals display was the center of her attention by looking
up at it, but she could care less how much the cost was. She could
feel him pretending not to watch her, and her cheeks flushed red with
that knowledge. As the numbers flashed on the display, she reached
into the back pocket of her tight-fitting jeans and pulled out her
coin purse.

She then noticed that he was standing there absentmindedly gripping
the pack with his thumb and forefinger of his right hand, moving it
up and down the pack, smoothing out the slight crease he had put in it.
She had become somewhat mezmerized by this motion he was making; he
noticed her interest. She shook her head a little to snap herself
out of it.

As she handed over the coins and withdrew her hand, her fingernails
brushed against the palm of his hand. This was partly accidental, partly
her intention. His hand trembled a little with this exquisite sensation.
He handed back her change and the receipt and made sure his fingertips
brushed the inside of her upturned palm, too. Her face broke into a
wide smile as he did this, and she bit her lower lip to try to hide her
smile at this gesture.

She turned to leave and just as abruptly turned back around holding the
pack and said, “Do you want a stick?” At first, he wasn’t sure if he
had heard her correctly. Then he smiled and said, “Yeah, sure”. There
was no one else in line.

At first she had problems starting the pull-tear that would uncap the
pack. He noticed her difficulty and said, “Here, let me help.” He
reached over and held her hand holding the pack and used his other
hand to start the tear-cord. She noticed his hand over hers was so
much bigger than her own, but it was warm and soft. She had leaned
over toward him during this operation, intently watching him pick at
the tear-cord, and the ends of her soft hair were dancing on his forearm
sending warm sensuous waves through his neck and shoulders. He could
smell a wonderful fragrance around her, of clean soap and lilacs. He
wondered what it would be like to nuzzle the back of her ear.

He withdrew a stick and handed it to her. Then he took one for himself.
At that moment, he realized that he was still holding her hand, and he
let his fingertips “accidentally” glide down the back of her hand as his
hand fell away. He popped the stick in his mouth and began chewing.
She did the same. She stuffed the pack into the pocket of her jeans;
he noticed how tight they were.

She smiled and said thanks and out of shyness again started to walk
away. He smiled and watched her as she left and said, “Come by again
anytime you need help opening something up.”

While out shopping at one of the many malls located conveniently near
me, I wandered into a water-bed store. When I entered, I saw the most
beautiful woman that I have ever seen. She was as beautiful as some of your
monthly Pets. I thought of my secret fantasy of fucking her in front of the few
people in the store.
This goddess of beauty made her way over me.
“Can I help you?” she said.
You sure can. honey, I thought to myself. “Oh, yes,” I answered. I
asked her for a certain model of sheet cover and she went in the back to check
on it. I couldn’t help but stare at her gorgeous buttocks, and thought to
myself that she had to have the nicest ass in the history of split flesh. Her
body did not stop. My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed her standing
in front of me, staring at my now-erect love tool.
“I found what you were looking for. Come back with me and I will show
you.”" she said, I followed and before I could offer any resistance, she tore
off most of my clothes and threw me on the bed. We kissed passionately and
then she started to nibble on the head of my penis. She worked down my rod and
licked my balls, and she didn’t stop until I spewed my penis cream over her
face and down her throat. As I was coming, I told her my fantasy of making
love in pubic. It was easy to convince her to move our copulating to one of
the water beds outside in the shop. Since it was almost closing time, I gussed
she figured it would be safe.
We dressed and walked casually toward one of the sensual water beds
set up in the middle of the store. We lay down as if we were just a young
couple testing out the bed to see if it was comfortable. I unbuttoned her
shirt to reveal her large, firm breasts and rock-hard nipples. I was really
turned on. I slipped off her dress and panties as she disrobed me. Our sexual
act caught the attention of several customers. I lifted her up and placed her
under the sheets. She whispered in my ear to fuck her with all I had. I got
under the covers and slid my rod into her tight love tunnel. I was so aroused
that I came almost immediately, and her climax followed several seconds
after mine.
She was moaning for more. So we turned around and got into a sixty-
nine position, this time without the concealment of the cover. She began to
suck like there was no tomorrow. I slid my tongue around the circumference
of her labia and tongued her clit until she was about to climax. I finally
dove right in and tongue-fucked her until she had four consecutive orgasms. We
fucked again while standing. Our screams almost cracked all the windows in the
store.
We finally got up and dressed. She locked up the store and told me
that she would call me again. She never did, but it didn’t matter. My fantasy
had come true.

–

Special thanx to: Walks-by-Night, The Unknown, Mr. Spock,
Midnight Orgy and Mad Bones

While out shopping at one of the many malls located conveniently near
me, I wandered into a water-bed store. When I entered, I saw the most beautiful
woman that I have ever seen. She was as beautiful as some of your monthly Pets.
I thought of my secret fantasy of fucking her in front of the few people in the
store.
This goddess of beauty made her way over me.
“Can I help you?” she said.
You sure can. honey, I thought to myself. “Oh, yes,” I answered. I
asked her for a certain model of sheet cover and she went in the back to check
on it. I couldn’t help but stare at her gorgeous buttocks, and thought to
myself that she had to have the nicest ass in the history of split flesh. Her
body did not stop. My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed her standing in
front of me, staring at my now-erect love tool.
“I found what you were looking for. Come back with me and I will show
you,” she said. I followed and before I could offer any resistance, she tore
off most of my clothes and threw me on the bed. We kissed passionately and then
she started to nibble on the head of my penis. She worked down my rod and
licked my balls, and she didn’t stop until I spewed my penis cream over her
face and down her throat. As I was coming, I told her my fantasy of making love
in public. It was easy to convince her to move our copulating to one of the
water beds outside in the shop. Since it was almost closing time, I gussed she
figured it would be safe.
We dressed and walked casually toward one of the sensual water beds set
up in the middle of the store. We lay down as if we were just a young couple
testing out the bed to see if it was comfortable. I unbuttoned her shirt to
reveal her large, firm breasts and rock-hard nipples. I was really turned on. I
slipped off her dress and panties as she disrobed me. Our sexual act caught the
attention of several customers. I lifted her up and placed her under the
sheets. She whispered in my ear to fuck her with all I had. I got under the
covers and slid my rod into her tight love tunnel. I was so aroused that I came
almost immediately, and her climax followed several seconds after mine.
She was moaning for more. So we turned around and got into a sixty-
nine position, this time without the concealment of the cover. She began to
suck like there was no tomorrow. I slid my tongue around the circumference of
her labia and tongued her clit until she was about to climax. I finally dove
right in and tongue-fucked her until she had four consecutive orgasms. We
fucked again while standing. Our screams almost cracked all the windows in the
store.
We finally got up and dressed. She locked up the store and told me that
she would call me again. She never did, but it didn’t matter. My fantasy had
come true.

–