XTS Network

It had been a long flight from Paris. The events of the last few days were a swirling collage. A hurried exit from a small town in Asia, transiting through Tiblisi and Moscow and, finally, a drawn out debrief in the Paris embassy. Danielle and I did manage a short walk around the Place de le Concorde. It was during this walk where we began changing from our operational personalities of “White Pine” and “Tracer.” As we walked in the cool spring rain, we became Boo and Dani once again. We reveled in the feeling of walking in a free and beautiful country, but exhaustion was setting in and we quickly returned to our hotel for some much-needed sleep and preparations for our departure for the United States.
Danielle and I had spent months together. We knew our jobs and had watched each other’s backs. Our lives depended on mutual trust and professional competence. We both yearned for home. We asked that our official passports be mailed back to the States and switched over to our tourist passports. Damn, I hated the official passports that sometimes called unwanted attention as we traveled. We boarded at different times and sat in different rows, but did get a welcome upgrade to business class courtesy of the embassy. I’d have to drop them a note. The larger seat looked inviting. I don’t think either of us was awake when the plane lifted off. Now, hours later, we made our approach to Dulles and we were both silently celebrating our return home. Myself to my wife, Ellie and Danielle to her lover Mia. Dani and I never talked about our love lives even though we had shared many personal secrets. I had known Dani was a lesbian for some time. Perhaps more from what she didn’t say. I trusted her and we had grown close in these months.
Once I had seen her with Mia and knew they were intimate from their body language, smiles, and whispers. They made a striking couple, the petite and beautiful Mia and the tall, athletic Dani. Dani had been in amateur body building competitions and had done quite well. She was well proportioned and hadn’t gone to that point where her sculpting had turned her into a man with the head of an attractive woman. I had seen her pictures and she was a hard but attractive lady nearing six feet. It never got to me that my partner was a bit taller than I. I do admit that some of the guys on our team did kid me about the athletic prowess of my partner.
Our talents and dispositions were quite different. Dani with her intense focus on the task at hand and quick temper. I, with my skills in communication and negotiation tempered with a more strategic view of things. We were a good pairing. Our skills were complimentary and always useful.
We walked to the baggage claim area with few words. We were mentally dragging after a combination of travel and meetings lasting over forty hours. Finally, our bags, then through immigration and customs quite quickly.
“Well, Dani, guess it’s that time” knowing I would miss a good partner, friend and confidant. “What time’s your flight?” asked Dani. “I won’t get out of here until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll get a room out here and crash,” I replied. The embassy had done a great job getting us this far, but domestic connections for me weren’t the best. Dani wrinkled her brow and, in her normal matter-of-fact manner, responded, “Oh no you’re not. You’re staying at my place. I have to make a call. Watch our stuff.” The phones were a few feet away. She punched up the number as she glanced back at me.
“Mia?” Dani paused, then I heard her leave a message about our arrival. Her face now reflected disappointment. She dialed another number. “Carol, I’m back. Boo’s with me and we need a ride over to my place. Great, see you in a few!”
I was grateful for Dani’s invitation. I really didn’t relish spending the night in one of those unfriendly and overused airport hotels. Not long afterward, Carol whipped her car over to the curb with her trunk lid already popped open. Some quick hugs and we loaded up and off we went. About twenty minutes later we were at Dani’s door with Carol excitedly running down the list of things she had done for Dani’s homecoming. She had cleaned Dani’s place and stocked up on all manner of her favorite foods and drink as well as fresh flowers throughout the townhouse. The house smelled of fresh Virginia air and fresh cut flowers.
We opened a bottle of wine and shared a few of our adventures with Carol. I’m sure she saw how worn we looked and could certainly hear our giddiness tattling on our mental exhaustion. She hugged us both tightly, welcoming us home again, and departed.
“I’ve got to get this travel grunge off of me, Dani. Mind if I shower?”
“No, go ahead. I was thinking the same thing. Use the bath down the hall. Everything you need should be in the linen closet.” I tipped my roller bag over in the middle of the living room, removed my shaving kit, some running shorts and a decent tee and headed down the hall. I passed Dani’s home office and found the bath. I stripped down and began looking for a towel in the closet. One large shelf of towels and washcloths and another neatly arranged shelf of cosmetics that didn’t fit Dani’s simple style. I assumed this was actually Mia’s bath and smiled.
As I grabbed a towel, I uncovered a slender white vibrator and a rather impressive clear, double-headed dildo. I think I felt a blush, but more from a sense of embarrassment for violating some secret place. I felt another smile and went about my shower. I stood there letting the massaging showerhead beat on my neck and shoulders. I felt so relaxed with the combined effects of the wine and warm shower. I toweled off, pulled on my shorts and tee and headed for the living room.
Dani had just finished dialing Mia again. I saw her eyes light up, then be washed over by disappointment again. She neared tears as she left another message for her lover. I had only seen that look one time before when she was beaten down by fatigue and personal hurt.
“Hey, Dani, how about some music!” I offered in a not too strong attempt at distracting my friend. Although we had varied tastes in many things, we both really love contemporary jazz and Dani picked out some of her favorite CDs. She looked over her shoulder, smiled as the music began and ambled off down the other hall for her shower. She returned in dark green silk boxers and a cropped tee as I was drifting with the music and wine.
“Jeez, Dani, that gut of yours!” I exclaimed viewing the wonders of her conditioned tummy. She collapsed back on the couch pushing that quiet rush of a freshly bathed woman into my nostrils and brain. We opened another bottle and lounged with our feet up on her coffee table. She laid back, sipping the wine, and strumming the sinewy flatness of her tummy with her fingers.
“I like my tummy. I worked hard for it,” she commented. We were both now drifting in our sea of music and wine. We went over the events of the last few days and months. I’m sure we were both thinking how close we had become. Isolation from those we loved and shared hardships and danger had created an intimacy understood by few.
Fatigue was visiting my brain again. “Dani, I’ve had it. I’m going down for the count. I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Me too,” she answered. We finished our wine and she loaded a handful of other CDs into her player. She moved around the island into the kitchen as I began pulling cushions off the couch and the smaller chaise. “Got some sheets, Dani?”
“Sure, I’ll get them,” came the answer. I was down on my knees arranging the jigsaw puzzle of my bed when Dani came back. She looked down at me with the sheets and pillows in her arms and began laughing.
“This is stupid, Boo. Follow me.” I followed Dani down the other hall toward her room expecting her to show me a futon or something more comfortable than the cushions. She took me to her bedroom with its king-sized bed. “You’ll sleep here,” the words delivered in true, assertive Dani fashion.
“But what will the guys think?” I said chuckling in my referral to the rest of our organization. “Fuck them!” said Dani as we both laughed about our arrangement. “I’ve got this side,” said Dani indicating the side with the phone and remote. “You and I have lived together for months, Boo. Why should we change now?” We laughed together this time.
Dani walked down the hall, switched her speakers over to the bedroom. She crawled over me and adjusted the volume. “Nice, just right,” offering my opinion. It was early afternoon, but our bodies were whispering 3:00 AM. The light was filtered through the blinds and it was so comfortable. “Night, Boo.”
“Night Dani,” and we did sleep the sleep of the dead. The months of physical exhaustion and mental strain pulled us into darkness.
“Oh, Ellie!” my mind muttered, my face at the back of her soft neck. The freshness of her hair invading my nostrils. My left arm draped over Ellie’s left hip as I reveled in her closeness, in her warmth. Soon, I could feel my hand cupping her pussy and being rhythmically squeezed by her thighs. “Home at last,” I thought as I began to drift off again.
I came half-awake, my mind whispering, “Home, home, you’re home.” My right eye pushed closed against the pillow and my left rolling around taking in the room. My foggy brain now telling me something wasn’t right. The feel of the bed, the late afternoon light filtered through the blinds and painting the wall with stripes. Finally, the tautness, the hardness of the body under my arm and in the grasp of my hand. “I’m not at home!” was the silent shout from my brain. “I’m, uh, where…where? I was suddenly very aware of everything as I lay with my arm around Dani’s hip and my hand cupping her pussy.
A moment of some panic now. I felt the pattern of my breathing change. My senses were now telling me Dani was no longer asleep. I lay there frozen, afraid to move. What would Dani think if she realized it was my hand between her legs? I must have stayed in that position, cuddled against Dani for many minutes. I didn’t move and she didn’t move. Sleep then captured me again, but only for the reward of the briefest nap. I woke to feel my hand be squeezed again in Dani’s strong, warm thighs.
I don’t believe we even opened our eyes as we began to almost sleepwalk through lovemaking. It did not seem to be a conscious act for either of us. It just began. I was not evaluating now, not making decisions. I was just acting. I pulled Dani’s hip toward me and rolled her flat on the bed. I moved my hand upward and massaged her tummy, that wondrous flat tummy before daring to explore under her boxers. For some reason I considered her breasts to be a less natural place to go at this point. My hand sensed as it traveled. Taught skin, muscle, the rougher texture of the waistband of her panties, and the boundary of a small patch of springy pubic hair.
“No further,” cautioned my brain. Alarms were going off in my head. I was ready for Dani to jump up and scream at me, “What the fuck are you doing Boo?” I froze again, but then came the signal; a gentle snakelike movement of the hips. My hand continued its exploration and found the southern boundary of Dani’s pubic hair as it crossed on to the smooth shaven lips of her womanhood. I began a slow, circular massage. Her pussy lips were not very pronounced and felt close to her athletic body.
I could feel the warmth of her and I dared a quick adventure along her inner folds. My finger rode over something hard and foreign; a small ring. My finger was answering questions for me and Dani moved again almost in a little fleshquake. I continued with my massage carefully; around and around with my whole hand staying away from her clit.
“Mmmm, that’s nice,” came Dani’s first words since we started this unexpected intimacy. I trailed my fingers a bit deeper as her thighs opened more, finding the wetness along her inner lips. Up and down, from top to bottom as she began to open to my hand. The ring, the ring! I had to explore this area. I have never had a lover with a clit ring before. Did I say lover? My brain said Dani and I, at this point, were more needful than loving. A lesbian operator and her straight male partner! This was odd, scary, and exciting all at once. Did we have boundaries? We’ll see.
I began pulling Dani’s boxers down as she raised her hips from the bed. I was then challenged by the relatively tight fit of a pair bikini panties, but she pulled one side down for me then raised her arms up over her head. This shocked me more than anything we had done to this point. My very tough, disciplined Dani now posed in a manner saying, “I trust, I submit.” We were guardians for one another in places and situations few have experienced and now we lay here in sexual exploration. The oddity of it all!
Here I am reflecting while Dani signals me again with her hips. I slid down near her tummy and gazed across her slightly too-hard and light-striped body. I opened her gently and took the hood of her clit between my thumb and forefinger and began gentile pulling with her ring resting against the top of my finger. My conservative Dani with a clit ring! Amazing! I opened her legs wider and looked up at her. She looked at me smiled, closed her eyes and turned her head to the light, and moved her hips as a low “Mmmm” escaped again.
This little sliver of fear kept intruding into my brain. I wanted to do this right for Dani. I wanted this intimacy with her, but I felt inadequate for the first time in my sexual life. As I thought of her shaved lips and ring, I was even more daunted by the fact that Dani had obviously prepared her body for Mia. Now she was left with this straight guy. My erection subsided.
I moved up and took Dani in my arms. We had embraced before, but that was as brother and sister. We rolled toward one another and she whispered, “We’ll be okay.” I pulled up her top and explored her small breasts. They were small but beautiful with the perfect crowns of coral colored nipples responding quickly to my lips and tongue. These little wonders puckered, wrinkled and stood up begging for more attention. My tongue savored the light and not unpleasant taste of Dani’s citrus fragrance. Yum! I would have spent more time with these small treasures but passion was building and control was diminishing.
I slid down in the bed and began to caress her whole pussy again expecting that my skills might fall well short of those of the lovely Mia. Dani made things easier by opening her legs widely. She began to open to my hand and I placed my mouth covering her completely. I began to lap with a flat tongue, something taught to me by Ellie. Dani was moving up toward my mouth with her hips. She tasted clean, wonderful and sexy. I loved the feel of my tongue moving along her inner lips, picking up her wetness. My lip would occasionally sense her ring, but I continued to avoid her clit.
“That’s pretty good, Boo,” assured Dani. I think she was sensing my lack of confidence. In my wildest thoughts, I could never have imagined eating out a lesbian! I certainly felt out of my league, but would give this everything I had. I continued from bottom to top, traveling the shallow canyons of her sex again and again. I stopped and looked up. Dani looked down and smiled. I looked into her eyes, and used my tongue to pull her ring and swelling clit into my mouth. Our eyes were locked until I sucked, drawing part of her inner lips into my mouth. Dani’s eyes closed, her hands went to my head, her hips came up and her head turned suddenly to the right against the pillow.
“Slower, Boo, slower,” came the gentle instructions from Dani. I went back to slowly lapping and was rewarded by an increasing flow of wetness from Dani. I pulled some pillows down and Dani raised herself. I was beginning to lose some self-control. I wanted her now. I took her hands and placed them at her pussy. She opened herself for me and my tongue pushed as far into her as I could go. I love the warmth and intimacy of oral pleasure. I don’t know how long I worked on this labor of oral love, but the bottom of my tongue was feeling tender and Dani’s head was moving form side to side with the punctuation of soft moans in her throat. It seemed to be time for an orgasm. I moved upward and drew as much of her into my mouth as I could and used the tip of my tongue on her clit while sucking.
“Not yet, not yet, Boo.” Dani lifted my head from her gently and rolled toward the nightstand. She opened the drawer and her hand returned with a slender pink vibrator much like the one in the bath. She turned it on and handed it to me, adjusting herself on the pillows. I brought the vibrator across her and it clattered a bit against her ring. I brought it down further and it slid so smoothly into her pussy. I watched the reaction on her face.
Ellie and I had our own toys so I was at home with Dani’s vibe. I continued my efforts of love, or need. I must have been a little too direct in my approach. Dani gently took my hand pulling the vibrator out of her pussy and guided it so the length of her buzzing friend was sliding up and down her wet slit.
“Like that,” she said followed by another “Mmmm” of approval. Her face showed her enjoyment of pleasure as she lay with a soft smile and closed eyes. I watched her face intently and, after several minutes, I saw her smile straighten, her breaths quicken and her lid-covered eyes and eyebrows twitching with concentration.
“Wait!” Dani exclaimed as she came quickly up on her elbows and smiled down at me. “I hope you don’t think I’m greedy, but I need something else.” She half turned in the bed stretching for the drawer of her nightstand. She fished around a bit and produced a small bottle of lubricant and a very thick jelly dildo. The length was not unusual, but the girth would have made Ellie squirm. Ellie could handle a lot, but this was a serious tool.
I took the dildo from her as we both laughed with that giddiness grown by the revelry of our homecoming, the wine, the exhaustion and our shared need for sex. We were having a great deal of fun and I had almost forgotten Dani’s preference for women. I coated the soft pink cock with lubricant as Dani complimented me with, “I see you’ve had some practice.”
“Yup,” I replied. “Ellie and I have a few toys.”
Dani fell back on the bed and then did something my mind has replayed many times since. This was one of the most erotic gestures I have ever seen. She spread her legs as widely as she could and, with both hands, spread her pussy until it was stretched wide. “Use them both Boo! I want the vibe on my clit and the dildo in as far as it will go!” I could have done better with three hands but got by with two. I slowly pushed the thick dildo into Dani and she took a deep breath. As wide as she was, this was clearly stretching her opening.
“Push it! Put it in deeper! I won’t break.” At Dani’s urging I shoved it in leaving just enough for me to keep a grip on it. I then got the vibe buzzing again and began that massage she showed me earlier. Up and down the length of her.
The sounds that I heard from Dani are hard to describe. No words, just a high-pitched whine coming from the back of her throat. As this grew louder she started raising her head off the pillow in almost a stomach crunch and pulled at her already stretched lips. Her hips were also moving. I was doing all I could to control one dildo one vibrator and my building urge to throw them aside and plunge my cock into Dani. I didn’t have much time to consider this. Dani suddenly grabbed my hands, pulled the dildo out of her and pushed the vibrator aside. I looked into her eyes wondering what would happen next and she left no doubt.
“Eat me. I need it hard, fast and now!” She held herself wide open again, and I took as much of her into my mouth as I could and sucked hard with my tongue moving quickly on her clit. She grabbed my head pulling it into her very hard and clamped her thighs on my head rolling to her left side and carrying me with her. I heard her muffled scream, which coincided with her vise-like grip on my head. After some seconds had passed, she relaxed a bit, but I kept working my mouth. She relaxed more and her thighs opened. I could feel her pulling away a bit and knew she was ultrasensitive. I released her lips and slowed my tonguing. Dani grabbed my head and gently pulled me from her.

I am sitting at a table near the dance floor, an empty shot glass in front of me and a red beer half finished. The band is fine, the music bouncy and my girlfriend has been on the dance floor with the same guy for the last three dances. I am enjoying the music, and the view as a handsome guy scoots by my table on the way to the bar. I turn slightly to watch him, nice. I cross my legs, my short red skirt riding a little higher, the tops of my stockings starting to show. My shoes, difficult to keep on in the best of times, are under the table, my nylon covered toes moving to the music.
I wish the waitress would show, I really would like another shot of tequila and some more tomato juice for my beer, but it is a busy night so I wait, and watch the inhabitants on a busy Friday night. I feel someone behind me, hopefully it is the cute guy who just went by, but it is not. He asks me to dance, and I refuse, shaking my head so my curly hair sways. I am wishing for the guy at the bar, I saw him looking, but will he come and ask me to dance?
The next song the band plays is a favourite of mine, a slow buckle polisher. Still no waitress and no handsome guy…
“May I join you?”
Oh happy day! The cute guy must be psychic, red beer and companionship!
“Hi, sure.” He sits, lovely man. I lean forward, the black vest I am wearing gaps a bit and I see him checking me out. My full breasts press on the fabric of the vest. “I’m Maggie.”
I watch as he looks down my vest, checking out my legs, the tops of my stockings showing at the edges of my short red skirt. I have had just enough tequila shooters to enjoy showing off a bit for him. I uncross my legs and then cross them the other direction so my toes are very close to his denim-clad knee, almost touching. He can see my calves and thighs, covered in black stockings. He is quite nice to look at too and I am a little embarrassed to discover my nipples getting a little hard pressing against my low cut vest. I wonder if he notices, though he seems a little preoccupied with my legs and the stocking tops. I run my hand down my thigh, smoothing the skirt only a little, not really covering anything, just attracting his attention.
“Thanks for the beer, and your name would be…?”
I look at him and smile, then take a drink from my glass, slowly so he can watch my tongue come just out between my lips to lick the rim of my glass before I drink.
He tips his hat, very gentlemanly, “I’m Charlie.” He sounds the tiniest bit distracted.
I wonder if he dances, and if it is dark enough in the bar that he will try to feel me up if he does dance a slow song with me. He has nice, strong looking hands. I imagine his touch would be firm, and sensual, if shy at first, he looks sort of shy. I like that. Shy guys are always fun when alone.
In the background the deep voice of the bass player sings …(amarillo by morning, up from san antone, everything that I’ve got is just what I’ve got on, I’ll be looking for an eight when they pull that gate and I hope that judge ain’t blind)… It was one of my favourite songs when I was a little girl, and one of my favourites to dance to now. Handsome Charlie takes me in his arms, his knee between mine leads me around the dance floor. He dances well for a real cowboy, smooth and sure. A lot of cowboys don’t have rhythm, surprising since riding a horse is a very rhythmic thing. Drugstore cowboys can do all the fancy dances, but usually lose points for not having any scuff marks on their boots. Real cowboys have scuff marks, and their boots also rarely match their hats. I can tell Charlie is a real cowboy, like my dad and brothers were, since he has boots that are dusty, a shirt that isn’t starched to death and he smells like outdoors and the Wyoming wind I grew up in. I sigh.
I move a little closer, pressing my breasts against his chest. I was right, his hands are strong and firm in mine and on my back, guiding the dance without any of the fancy silliness the wannabees use.
The band is playing another waltz, Charlie keeps me in his arms, the bass player singing a George Strait song. Charlie feels good against me.
The music changes, and Charlie and I sit down and drink our beer. He still seems shy, but a little more comfortable. I am liking his company very much. I have been fending off slick wannabees all night, now that I have found a real person in the sea of cowboy hats, I am having a really fun time. I have a rule against going home with guys who pick me up in bars, but I really like this guy, and I don’t want him to think I am the usual buckle bunny trash that hangs out in cowboy bars, but Jeeze! I want to get my hands on him, and my other body parts too.
I kick my shoes off again and lightly graze his leg with my toes, as if by accident. My friend has left me alone with Charlie, she is at another table with her guy, but she is up and in front of our table now. The band has started one of our favourite songs, and we always have a girl dance to this one. We sing and dance and generally act sort of silly. The band swings into a Georgia Satellites tune and Josie drags me on the dance floor. Charlie is smiling and watching. I see him raise our empty glasses to the passing waitress. I watch him when we get to the chorus, the band changes the words to the song. Josie and I dance and belt out the chorus together. Charlie is still laughing when I return to the table.
“Looks like you need this,” he hands me a cold beer with tomato juice, yum.
“Yes, thanks.”
Josie has sent over shots of tequila. I raise mine at her and then to Charlie. I swallow the tequila and follow it with a sip of beer and smile at Charlie some more.
I really want to break my rule with him. Maybe he will ask me to breakfast after this set is over, and I can ask sweetly if he means now or later. I grin wickedly to myself. It is getting close to midnight and the band will be breaking soon. They start another song, something by Merle Haggard, and Charlie holds out his hand. I slip my shoes back on and he leads me to the dance floor.
He wraps his arms around me and holds me to his chest, strong and firm against my soft breasts. His knee between mine seems a bit more erotic now, rubbing denim against stockings. His mouth is near my ear and I can feel his breath on my skin, stirring the wisps of hair that have fallen out of their pins. My ears are very sensitive, his breathing next to my ear is very arousing, and I feel my nipples tighten again, and warmth creeping from the center of my stomach down my legs and making my toes tingle.
I move my head just slightly, his mouth is almost on my ear, he is starting to whisper something…but the sensation is so wonderful that I almost can’t pay attention to what he is saying.
“I’m sorry, what did you say, it is so loud here on the dance floor, I, well, I couldn’t quite catch that…” I hope he doesn’t realize that the reason I couldn’t hear him is because I am light headed with arousal.
His lips are right on my ear when he replies…
Oh happy night…. He has invited me home, yowza! I grab my purse, give Josie a wave and follow him out the door.
At his place he is very polite and quiet still, but I think I can see that he is sort of excited too. He shows me around and says he wants a minute to clean up. I tell him to take his time and if he wants I will putter in the kitchen and make some late dinner. He disappears and I hear a shower as I sort through cupboards.
He returns shortly in clean, worn jeans and a plain white tee shirt, his feet are bare and his hair wet from the shower and combed neatly. He is gorgeous. His jeans look soft and comfy and conform nicely to his ass and stretch tight in the front. If he wants to advertise, he is doing a great job.
We sit and eat steak and eggs with fresh tomatoes and another beer apiece. He asks if I’d like to join him in the living room to listen to music or catch a late movie.
We flip channels for a bit, but decide to put music on since there are no late shows that capture our attention, the only late show we are interested in is the one here on the couch.
His arm is around me, he pulls me to him a bit and I turn to look him in the eye, his eyes are beautiful too, and drawing closer. He puts his lips lightly on mine, just brushing my mouth with his once, then again and then taking my lower lip between his, gently, and sucking my lip into his warm mouth. My mouth opens under his, his tongue slips inside, exploring my gumline, past my teeth to coax my tongue to dance with his. I push lightly with my tongue against his, then suck very gently on his, my reward is his tongue deeper in my mouth, my head falling back and his hand caressing the back of my neck.
I turn my head to lock my mouth more firmly with his as he deepens the kiss, his tongue stroking mine, stroking the roof of my mouth, my teeth, gums and soft skin under my tongue, so very sensitive and arousing. I put my hands on his cheeks, then run them up into his hair, urging him to take my mouth . He kisses me a little harder, still gentle, but deep, and his tongue strokes against mine, making love to my mouth with his.
I am light headed again, holding his shoulders, kissing him like he is the oxygen I need to survive. His hands are on my waist, holding me, starting to caress the bare flesh where the vest gaps a bit above my skirt. My breasts are pressed to his chest, my nipples hard yet again, wanting his fingers to explore a little higher under my vest.
His mouth leaves mine to move down my throat, leaving little tiny kisses in a line down my neck and to the low opening of the vest. His face is between my breasts, he is still leaving little kisses, his hands pushing their way up my body to cup my breasts. A button pops open, and he encourages its mates to do the same. He takes one firm nipple in his mouth and sucks, his fingers teasing the other to get even harder. My hands are in his hair again, his mouth feels so wonderful I want him to keep doing that forever. But there are other pressing matters, like his erection against my thigh. I rub my leg against his, my stockings making whispering sounds on the denim.
He pushes his leg under mine and now my knees are parted and he slides one hand down my belly, over my skirt and underneath. His fingers softly brush against me, my satin panties a little damp now, his fingers stroke lightly again and again over me. His mouth on my breasts is driving me mad, first sucking and licking and pulling one nipple and then the other. Now his hands are joining in the driving.
I slide one hand between us, down to his jeans, through the denim I can feel him growing harder, pushing to escape the confining material.
He lays me back on the couch, his hands moving my hips and positioning his hips on mine. He is still wearing jeans and I still have soft satin covering me. His face is in my neck, his mouth open on my skin and I wrap my arms and legs around him as he covers me with his body. The denim of his jeans is a rough and sensual texture between my thighs, his shoulders strong under my fingers.
We are both breathing hard, kissing again now, his tongue more aggressive, mirroring the act that is certainly now the only thing in either of our minds. My hips move almost with out my knowledge, welcoming him.
“I want this to last a while,” he whispers in my ear, “Let’s go find the bed and explore some more, find out all the things that we each like the best.”
He stands, helps me off the couch and then scoops me up, carrying me toward a doorway where a soft bedside light illuminates a huge king bed. He lays me gently on the bed then strips off his shirt, dropping it beside my vest that has fallen to the floor. He leaves the jeans on, leaning onto the bed to take my mouth again with his. His kiss is hard, slow and sensual and full of passionate promises.

Pamela loved the plan. In fact, if she and Hal got caught by her husband, Chet, she’d probably love it all the more. She wanted Hal, but she also wanted Chet to know that he’d been cuckolded and both that he wouldn’t blame her for it and couldn’t do a thing about it.
The opportunity for the perfect act of adultery arose with the garden club’s plan for the Halloween costume party at Evangeline, the deteriorating plantation house on the Mississippi below Natchez, an ideal haunted house location for a costume party. The place hadn’t been used for more than two decades, not since the last of the Turnballs died out from some family-shared rare form of anemia.
Pamela’s best friend, Cindy, had recently married a grade A hunk, Hal, and Pamela wanted to lay with him so badly that her body ached for him. She had grown tired of Chet years ago and spurned all of his efforts to revitalize their sex life. Lately he had been into kinky outfits and had this strange notion that if they tried exotic positions and she let him take her in the ass it would somehow bring them closer together. Not a chance, she thought; she just needed a strong man’s cock throbbing inside her, and she had every belief that the handsome, muscle-bound Hal was just what she needed.
And Cindy had played right into her hands—in fact had given Pamela the idea of how she could pull off the feat. Cindy was so busy with the party arrangements that she asked Pamela to help her and Hal find their costumes. Pamela took Hall shopping and had gotten Hal alone, half dressed, in a changing room, where she quickly was assured that Hal’s eyes for her very definitely had been of the roving variety. He was so hot and what he was packing inside his briefs was so massive that Pamela nearly melted on the spot. But she needed something more than a quick grope and some lip work in a costume shop changing room. She needed what Hal was packing pumping inside her, and, for her own sense of humor and thrill, she wanted Chet to suffer in the process.
Her plan was simple in a complex sort of way. She selected the identical costume for both the men and the women of the foursome. Hal and Chet and she and Cindy were close to the same size and build, so, with a bow to Shakespeare and large masks over the upper section of their faces, and if she arranged the tryst in the dim garden of Evangeline, she was sure that she’d be able to say that her coupling with Hal was simply a case of mistaken identity all around, what with both men in vampire costumes and both women decked out as Little Bo Peep. Even if Chet or Cindy discovered them in the act—and Pamela did so hope it would be Chet, if anyone—neither she nor Hal could be blamed.
The night of Halloween proved to be ideal for Pamela’s plan. The evening was warm and the moon was nearly absent, leaving the old plantation house’s boxwood gardens, with its mazes rich with deadends and isolated park benches, dripping in the rich atmosphere of stolen love. The party was in full swing when Pamela, having just parted from her husband on the dance floor, gave Hal the high sign that she was going out into the garden to an isolated bench nearly swallowed by a graceful old magnolia tree.
By prearrangement, she would stand in front of the bench, facing a nearby giant spruce tree, as if deep in thought, ready to be approached from the rear by an “accosting stranger,” who she was prepared to tell the world she believed was her husband, pursuing his latest fetishes to enhance their married life, an activity she would say she was willing wholeheartedly to succumb to in this enchanted garden on Halloween night.
And then, just as she had planned, her lover was there, close behind her. The cape from the costume she had picked out was swirling about her, and his strong arms were enfolding her. He kissed the hollow of her neck and she turned her head, meeting his lips with a hungry, open kiss. Tongues dueled, hers giving in to his as he stroked his big, consuming tongue in and out of her mouth, a harbinger of delights to come. She found his taste intoxicating, and, just as if she were drinking sweet wine, his kisses were loosening her, making her weak while at the same time inflaming her to his touch.
His hands ripped at the laces criss-crossing her peasant’s blouse across her ample bosom. He was being rough and insistent with her as he freed the vest that the laces had been holding together and pulled her breasts, one by one out of the low-necked billowy blouse. And she loved him being rough with her. He worked her breasts in his hands, rolling her nipples between his fingers, making her flow start. And he kissed her deeply, using his teeth, in the hollow of her neck. Her world was spinning; she was loving this; she was putty in his strong arms.
One hand left the breast work to the other and traveled down her body until it gripped her hard in the crotch. She moaned at the strength and insistence of his hand there and she could feel his manhood rising and pushing at the small of her back.
She had grown so weak that she had to fall forward, across the seat of the bench, gripping the top of the bench’s wrought-iron back with her hands spread, holding herself in place as her lover continued his steamy onslaught on her willing body.
Her lover’s hands were pulling at her long skirt, hauling yards of material up to a bunch around her waist, exposing Pamela’s milky white thighs and dimpled bottom to his roving search. She felt and heard her panties being ripped away, and then his long fingers were invading her cunt, searching for and quickly finding her clit and sending flares of pleasure charging through her. But it was a electrifying feeling that seemed almost to be happening to someone else. His lips and teeth were still firmly planted in the hallow of her neck, and she was feeling woozy, almost as if she were rising up out of her body and watching this glorious ravishing she was receiving from somewhere up in the branches of the magnolia tree. But that was all right with her, because a glorious ravishing it was.
His long, slender, talented fingers working deep inside her fold was driving her to rapture, and she experienced an orgasm that eclipsed anything her husband had been able to do to her for years.
Her lover’s lips left her and her head lolled to the side as she felt them reengage with her in the crevice between her soft butt cheeks. He was kissing and tonguing her at her puckered hole, and she had never known what ecstasy this could invoke. That long, thick tongue was invading her there, while the fingers of one of his hands continued to stroke her pleasure spot, encouraging her to explode once more under his expert touch.
She was writhing under him now, hardly able to hold herself up bent over the bench. He sensed she was about to collapse, and he rose up and took her breasts in his hands once more and both held her up to him and squeezed them until she screamed out in pain-laced ecstasy. Then he was holding her there with just one hand and he was using the other one to slap a huge cock, a monster cock, against the small of her back and her thighs, urging it to hardened even further, when it already was making Pamela weak in the knees at the thought of taking him in her love canal.
That wasn’t his immediate plan. The slappings of his tool turned to rubbings across her bum and up and down in the crease between her cheeks and then he was centering on her puckered backdoor.
Pamela arched her back and screamed to the distant sliver of a moon as he entered her there and started to stroke her, reaching a new depth with each stroke. He pulled her close into him, with the fingers of one hand entering her vagina once more and stroking her clit, his other hand cupping a breast, and his lips and teeth back at the hallow of her neck. His cock was impossibly huge, stretching her further with each stroke, filling her beyond capacity. But she was growing weaker, and his kiss continued to have an intoxicating effect on her, making her feel both the full pleasure and pain of each stroke but being somehow distant from what was happening to her. She only knew that she’d never been taken like this and that she loved him throbbing and growing and working inside her. He brought her to a third orgasm even more electrifying than the first two.
She was a rag doll now, supported only by him. He pulled out of her and picked her up in his arms and carried her underneath the spreading branches of the nearby towering spruce tree. He laid her on her back on a sturdy bough near the base of the tree that was fully able to support her slight figure. Then he spread her legs wide and straddled her pelvis. She felt that she should scream and beg for her safety when she saw the battering ram that his cock had become, impossibly larger than it had ever been inside her ass canal, but she was just too drowsy and drunk with the hard vigor of him and filled with a burning desire for her consuming lover.
He entered her gently and slowly and she cried out and arched her back again, being sure that he would split her apart. All she could see were burning eyes through the black mask and a magnificent naked torso as his supercock slowly moved up into her. Despite her desire for him, she couldn’t stop crying out for him to stop stretching her beyond all limits and digging deeper than she thought any man could reach. He brought his lips down to hers to calm her down, and, indeed, his intoxicating kiss caused her to reduce her protests to soft sobs, turning to sighs and then moans, and then cries of ecstasy and desire as he started to fuck her in long, deep-penetrating strokes. His lips and teeth went back to the hollow of her neck and she had wrapped her legs around his plump, trembling buttocks now, wanting to hold him inside her forever. It felt like his entire body had entered her and pushed toward the very center of her, possessing her fully and for all time.
As he deeply stroked, she continued to weaken, until her legs lost their hold around him and both her legs and arms, feeling like lead weights, just dangled down the sides of the pine bough. He was holding her body to him with a strong arm wrapped around on the small of her back and stroking, stroking, stroking his giant cock in and out of her in never ending rhythm.
Her lover lifted his head from the hollow of her neck and howled to the skies as he flooded her insides with a fountain of semen that burbled up around his encased cock and dribbled down her thighs. He pulled his still-hard cock back out almost to the surface and then plunged back in for a second flooding and then a third and a forth. Pamela just lay there under him, lost in her own drowsy world, a sweet little smile of complete satisfaction on her lips.
When she was able to wake enough to take stock of her surroundings, Pamela was alone. She spent many minutes trying to pull her clothes back into some semblance of order. She was still weak and disoriented, which she chalked up to just having had the most wonderful fuck of her life.
Somehow she managed to stumble back into the plantation house, where she found that most of the guests had gone home and the party planners were busy straightening up.
“My God, Pamela, where have you been? We’ve been worried about you,” Cindy was saying, or so it seemed. Pamela was having difficulty concentrating on her friend even though she was standing just a few feet away.
“Out in the garden,” Pamela was saying with a weak wave of a thin, alabaster-white arm toward the French doors, although she was slurring her words and having trouble standing upright.
“Well, you missed a real mess in here,” Cindy was saying. “Right after you left, that ancient sink in the kitchen started playing like Old Faithful, and Hal has been fighting the flood ever since.
Pamela looked dully at a pair of men’s legs emerging from under the sink cabinet. Hal. Hal was in here all the time. Then who? Pamela’s thoughts raced to her husband, Chet. He’d had her after all the way he’d wanted her. And she had to admit that he had been right. That was the best coupling performance he’d ever given her. Maybe . . .
“Oh, hi, Chet,” Cindy was saying as she waved across the room behind Pamela’s back. “Everything all right at home now? As you can see, we’ve finally found Pamela, although she isn’t acting like Pamela.”
“Pamela, Pamela. Are you OK? Your babysitter called, and we couldn’t find you anywhere, and Chet had to go on home and sort that out. And . . . Pamela? Pamela? You look so pale and weak. And, what’s that? Oh, my God, Pamela, you have blood dribbling down from a wound there in the hollow of your neck. Chet, push that chair over here fast. I think she’s going to . . .”

“Happy Earth Day!” Shely said. Her husband, Lee, had just come into the kitchen and slipped his arms around her waist. “Did you sleep well?” She turned to look at him. His grey hair was damp from his morning shower. His firm body was encased in blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. In contrast to the rest of his attire, his feet were bare. She lifted her gaze from his body and stared into his brown eyes. They were dancing with laughter.
“Of course I did, you little vixen.” He turned her around and captured her lips with his. He kissed her for a few moments before he continued, “After what you put me through last night, did you really expect me to sleep any lighter than the dead?” He chuckled and hugged her tight, then held her at arm’s length to look at her.
She had worn her sheer nightgown and robe downstairs to cook breakfast. He stared down at his wife, drinking in all that she was. She was a tiny woman, barely reaching his breastbone, and very trim. She would not be considered beautiful by most standards, but he thought she was gorgeous. Her hair fell, in fiery curls, well below her shoulders. Her clear green eyes almost always sparkled with laughter; she was such a happy person. He marveled at her happiness, nothing seemed to keep her down for long. Of course, the sight of her angry was also a sight to behold. Flames would seem to shoot from her eyes and her pale white skin would flush.
“What,” Shely said, trying to appear innocent. “I didn’t do anything.” She giggled. She loved teasing him after a night of wild lovemaking. He was always so happy the next morning that she couldn’t help it.
“Baby, I wouldn’t say tying me to the bed and blindfolding me was nothing.” He kissed the tip of her nose and laughed. “I would say it was plenty of something. I’m getting hard just thinking about you being in control like you were last night.”
His deep laughter and his words sent a shiver through her body, straight to her groin. She moaned softly, remembering how aroused she was the night before, having him helpless and at her mercy. “I did rather enjoy controlling your responses.” She gave a sheepish grin. “Knowing that you trusted me that much, that I could do anything to you and you couldn’t do anything about it… God, I’m getting wet again.”
“Good,” he said and grinned. “You should be as uncomfortable as I am while we take care of our morning chores.” He released his hold on her and continued speaking, “Now, let’s eat breakfast so you can change. We need to get started so we have more time to play today. The Earth Day celebration is at four and I don’t want to miss it.” He helped her carry the food to the table and they sat down to eat.
Shely smiled to herself. Lee didn’t know it, but she had made plans for lunch. Earth Day always made her long to be outdoors, so she had prepared a simple meal and put it in the fridge that morning as he slept. She would load the picnic basket when they finished their morning chores. The only thing left to decide was whether to sit under the oak trees out front, or next to the creek in the back.
~~~~~
After breakfast, she went upstairs and changed into her jeans and flannel. They both tugged on their cowboy boots before heading out to the barn and the horses. They worked side-by-side, mucking out stalls and grooming the horses.
Lee had taken his shirt off as he worked, effectively distracting Shely from her labors. She stared at him in wonder. It was hard to believe that he had turned 59 two weeks ago. His muscles rippled as he worked. The sweat beading on his body made his skin glisten and she felt her groin tighten in response.
Lee kept glancing at Shely as they worked. It still amazed him, after all these years, that she had chosen him. She was twenty-five years younger than he was. An eighteen-year-old virgin when he met her, she could have had anyone, but had chosen him. He swelled with pride and glanced at her again. She was so sexy with her cheeks flushed from physical labor. A vision played through his mind, of throwing her down in the hay and just taking her. His erection was becoming uncomfortable as it pressed against the zipper of his jeans.
All of a sudden a shower of hay landed on his head. He heard Shely giggle and jerked his head in her direction. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that!” He dropped his pitchfork and started toward her. She took off running, her laughter music to his ears.
She couldn’t help it; he’d looked so serious she’d had to do something. Darting glances over her shoulder, she watched him run after her. God, he’s sexy when he’s happy. It was becoming very difficult to keep running, her laughter was about to double her over. Her steps slowed and he caught her. He tossed her into a stall that was empty but for the clean hay on the floor. He straddled her waist as she lay on her back laughing and proceeded to tickle her without mercy.
Lee felt love for Shely fill his heart to near bursting. She continued to amaze him with her playfulness, even after fifteen years of marriage. No longer in the mood to tickle her, he began stroking her sides. His cock strained the front of his jeans and made him very aware of his arousal as Shely squirmed under him.
Shely felt his touch change and stopped moving. She stared up into his eyes and saw them fill with love as well as lust. She lifted her hands to his sweaty chest and gave a deep sigh of pleasure. He leaned over and kissed her lips. His hands moved to the front of her shirt and began to unfasten the buttons. She inhaled his scent, adoring the sweaty smell of hard labor that emanated from his skin.
He felt her still and moved his mouth to her neck, licking his way down to the top button of her shirt. As he unfastened each button, he kissed the skin that was exposed. He heard her moan and grinned against her chest. He continued kissing and opening her shirt, his patience wearing thin. He had to suppress the urge to rip the remaining buttons off.
At last he undid the final button and sighed in relief. He pushed the edges of her shirt open and sat back up to enjoy the sight of her pale flesh. He stroked her flat belly, again making her groan. He ran his hands up her torso and cupped her heavy breasts. He leaned down once more and kissed the front closure of her bra then unfastened it. He waited a heartbeat, just looking at her, before he slid the scrap of material apart and exposed her naked breasts to his hungry gaze.
She moaned at his light touch on her heated flesh. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She gripped his arms in her hands and lifted her hips. The memory of last night’s adventure, combined with this morning’s play, was quickly sending her over the edge. Lee’s hands traveled down her body to the waistband of her jeans. Her heart began beating faster, the sound loud in her ears.
Lee slid his hands inside her jeans, the softness of her skin under his hands driving him crazy. He moved off her body and tugged on her jeans. She lifted her hips and he pulled them down to her knees. Lee released his grip on the fabric and locked his eyes on hers for a moment. He saw the heaviness of her lids and knew she was as aroused as he was. He let his eyes drift over her nearly naked body, coming to rest on the triangle of bare skin at the apex of her thighs. He reached out his hand and trailed one finger along that skin, making her jump. Her soft moan reached his ears and he smiled.
He moved backward until he held her foot in his hand. He removed each boot and sock in its turn, kissing her toes as they were exposed. He finished removing her jeans and panties, tossing them to the side. Returning his hands to her legs, he ran one hand up the inside of each one, pushing them open.
He reached her glistening pussy and touched it, so light she might have imagined it. Their eyes locked as he lowered his head to her heated flesh. His tongue probed the lips of her pussy open. She groaned and bucked her hips upward. He reached under her and cupped her ass in his hands, holding her steady as he ground his face into her pussy. His tongue rolled around her clit relentlessly, driving her to the edge of release. Closer and closer it came, beginning as a tingle in her toes. She gripped his head in her hands, pulling it into her pussy. The tingle crept up her calves and she tried to buck against his face, but he held her tight. Past her knees, all she could do was gasp out her pleasure. Her thighs began to tremble and her body tensed. It was a matter of seconds before she let out a primitive, guttural scream, as wave after wave of orgasmic sensation ripped through her body.
Lee was nearly deaf. Between the scream and her thighs squeezing his head, he had lost much of his hearing. He grinned like a Cheshire cat when she finally released his head. He gazed down at her, taking in the flush to her skin and the dreamy look in her eye. He was proud of bringing her to such a powerful release, almost cocky about it.
“Mmm…” she moaned and sat up. “That was wonderful, Lee. But now, it’s your turn.” She grabbed the front of his jeans and pulled him to her. She kissed his lips and slid her tongue into his mouth.
He wrapped his fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss. He loved the taste of her mouth. They stayed like that for several moments before he broke off the kiss. He stood and started to unfasten his jeans only to have his hands slapped away. He laughed and raised his hands in an ‘I give up’ gesture.
Shely smiled at him then set to work getting his jeans down his legs. When she had them around his ankles, she grabbed his hips and sank her mouth onto his rock hard cock. She held the root in one hand and his balls in the other. Her hot, wet mouth working magic on him, he closed his eyes and moaned. He was so aroused he knew he wasn’t going to last long. He again wrapped his fingers in her hair. He began pumping his cock into her mouth and felt her tongue rolling around the underside of his shaft. He felt his balls tighten. “Oh, God, baby! I’m going to cum!”
Shely gripped his ass tighter and prepared herself for the first jet of semen. She continued bobbing her head up and down on his hard cock. Her hands massaged the base of his shaft and his balls. She felt his muscles tighten and heard his loud grunt. His cock began to spurt into her mouth and she swallowed frantically, desperate to gather every drop.
When she had swallowed every drop of cum that he had to give her she stood and kissed his lips. “I love you, Lee,” she said with a smile.
“I love you too, Shel.” Lee pulled her into his arms and held her tight for a few minutes. “I suppose we should get back to work, before the animals begin to feel neglected.”
Shely laughed. “Yes, I suppose we should. It won’t be long until it’ll be time for lunch.” A secretive smile on her lips, she turned to dress.
They returned to their chores, each deep in thought. When they finished, they headed back to the house and hot showers. It was time for lunch.
(to be continued…)

I was tightly surrounded on the subway train by four young toughs, and I had a cock up my heretofore heterosexual ass. How could this have happened to me?
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and my wife, Florence, and I had taken a taxi downtown to Lacey’s Department Store. We needed a new bedspread as the old one was getting pretty threadbare.
We went up to the bedding department on the seventh floor, and it was appalling. They had nothing. Years ago Lacey’s had been a wonderful store. You could find anything there, but no more. Coarse artificial fabrics, ugly colors, shoddy workmanship. Everything was badly manufactured and very expensive. We wandered up and down the counters looking and shaking our heads. Where would we ever find what we were looking for? If this was what Lacey’s was carrying, no one was even making anything we would want to buy.
We decided to go home, but when we got out on the street, it was absolutely mobbed. We had not been aware that today was the Latin Day Parade, and many blocks were closed off for street fairs. On many of the side streets, there were carts peddling delicacies from all the different Latin countries.
We wandered through a couple of blocks, looking at the exotic merchandise. Maybe we would find a bedspread, but no such luck. At one stand we had some delicious Mexican tacos.
We walked back to the Avenue to find a cab, but forget it. The roadways were bumper-to-bumper traffic. Even if we could have found a cab, it would have taken us hours to get home, and cost us a bundle, with the meter ticking away as the vehicle idled in heavy traffic.
“What are we going to do, Arthur?” Florence asked me.
“We’ll have to take the metro,” I answered her. The metro was, of course, the subway. We had spent our honeymoon in Paris, and I was in love with all things Parisian. And so with a slight Gallic pretentiousness, I had been referring to the subway as the metro for years. In Paris they, of course, called the subway the metro.
In a hundred years Florence would never have thought to take the subway. She was a taxi person. No matter how much more a taxi cost, she hated being underground, and never traveled that way. But now we had no choice. If we wanted to get home, we would have to take the subway. Even a bus was out of the question with this jam-up. We’d get home tomorrow morning.
We found an entrance right next to Lacey’s and went down the stairs. I bought a card at the booth, and we went through the turnstiles. The platform was so packed with people, you couldn’t even move.
“There must be something wrong,” I said. “It looks like there hasn’t been a train in a half hour.”
“It’s so crowded,” Florence complained. “This is awful.”
We tried to work our way down the platform. It was a tight squeeze. “It’s the Latin Day Parade,” I said, noticing the people around us. It was a very Caribbean crowd. I felt as if I could have been in Havana or San Juan. Everybody was very lively and festive. We continued to move down the platform and suddenly we came to a halt. There were four men absolutely blocking the platform, from one side to the other, and they didn’t seem very willing to move.
“Excuse me,” I said. “You’re blocking the whole damned platform. We’d like to get through.”
“You hear this guy?” said one of them to the others. “He say we are blocking the whole damned platform. He would like to get through.” He was imitating me. Making fun of me.
“You’re very rude,” I said, shoving him, trying to get by.
“Oh. We are rude,” he announced to the others, shoving me back. “He say we are very rude.” He held his position firmly and refused to let us pass. Suddenly I heard the sound of a train coming into the station. Thank goodness. Now I would get away from these guys. I was starting to feel a little threatened. I don’t think Florence even realized what was going on, that we were in a dangerous situation.
The sound grew tremendously loud, and you couldn’t hear words anymore. The train pulled into the station and the doors opened. I started to guide Florence toward the open doors, but suddenly I felt as if I were being swept off my feet. I couldn’t control my own movements. The four men had closed around me and we moved into the train as a group. I felt their hands supporting me, as my feet flip-flopped around not gaining much traction.
I was standing in the middle of the car, packed like a sardine. These four guys around me, one on each side, and hundreds of people around them. I didn’t even have a pole to hold on to, but I didn’t really need one. There was no way I could fall. There was no way I could move an inch. And where the hell was Florence? We had gotten separated, and she was nowhere around. I was worried she hadn’t gotten on the train, I wanted to try to locate her, but I couldn’t move a muscle. The train pulled out of the station and the acceleration forced me back against the man behind me. (One of the four.)
The guy who had been imitating me was standing directly in front of me, facing me. I looked up at his face and he gave me a scary smile.
“How you doin’?” he asked me.
“Fine,” I said nervously.
“Wha’s yo’ name?”
“Look here,” I started to protest.
“Wha’s yo’ name?” he insisted.
“Arthur,” I said. I should have lied. I should have said Edgar or something, but I was nervous now, and not thinking too clearly.
“My name is Pablo,” he said. “Pleased to meet you there, Arthur. This is a real pleasure,” his tongue dragged on the word pleasure.
“Nice to meet you,” I answered, smiling tightly, not knowing what he had on his mind. Pablo was around forty with a black moustache and beard. He had a red bandanna wrapped around his head, and a black and gray ponytail hung down from it. He was the oldest of the four. He wore a blue cotton shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and I could see his body was hairy also.
“This here is Juanito,” he nodded toward the fellow on my left, who was also tall, but thinner. He also had a black moustache and beard, but his jet-black hair was cut short. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and I could see the muscles bulging in his strong arms. I didn’t want any trouble with him. I didn’t want any trouble with any of these guys.
“Hello, Juanito,” I said, smiling at him nervously.
“Hola, Papito.” He grinned at me. Juanito was good-looking.
“And this here is Miguelito,” said Pablo, nodding toward the guy to my right. Miguelito was the youngest and the smallest of them. He was short and skinny, but wiry looking. I didn’t doubt that he was also very fast and very strong.
“Miguelito,” I nodded to my right.
“Hola, Papito,” he said, and gave me a wicked toothy smile.
“That tall guy behind you is mi amigo, Angel,” said Pablo. I twisted my head around and studied Angel for a second. He was very lean looking and very mean looking. His dark eyes suggested cruelty and danger. I didn’t doubt for a second that he could be a drug dealer or something. Any of them could have been. My neck was starting to hurt, so I faced front again and looked at Pablo. This certainly was a strange situation. How had I gotten into this predicament? In the middle of a subway car, surrounded by the four of them. Was it a coincidence or had they engineered it?
Suddenly, I heard a voice calling from way down the car, “Arthur! Arthur!” It was Florence. She was on the train, (thank goodness,) and she had found me, but there was no way she could have gotten to me. I smiled at her, and wanted to wave to her, but my arms were pinned to my sides in the crush. She remained where she was imprisoned and smiled back at me.
Then I felt something strange behind me. Down low. A pulling. Someone was pulling on the seat of my pants. And then I felt something else. I didn’t know quite what it was. I could swear someone was cutting down the seat of my pants with a knife. But that was crazy. But then I thought I felt the touch of metal on my butt cheek. And was I feeling a draft? A little cold air on my ass? But that was too crazy. What was happening?
I looked up into Pablo’s face and he seemed to be laughing. “My friend, Angel, behind you. He’s one crazy guy.” I twisted my head around in panic. It was true. Angel had slit my good slacks with a sharp knife. Bastard! I had spent a lot of money for those slacks. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t dare. The man had a knife. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t budge an inch. I was in trouble
Suddenly I felt fingers feeding through the slit and pressing into the crack between my buttcheeks. He had slit my jockey shorts as well. I could feel his hot blunt fingers on my skin. I wanted to grab his arm and pull it away from me, but I couldn’t move my own arms. Why had he destroyed my beautiful pants? Meanness. That was it.
His fingers started moving further into my crack. The tips were caressing my butthole. My God. This was insane. One of the fingers moved through the muscle and dug into my asshole. Good lord. He was finger raping me. I wanted to scream, but this was just too embarrassing. There I was in the middle of a crowded subway car with a guy’s finger in my asshole. He was digging it around, right and left, up and down, right and left, up and down. In and out. In and out.
“You like that, Papito?” asked Pablo.
“No,” I protested. “Make him stop it. Make him take it out.”
“Oh, he gonna take it out real soon,” Pablo assured me.
Finally the finger did come out, but then I felt some movement against my butt. Something was going on. Was Angel pulling down his zipper? Pulling down his zipper and twisting around. By this time I had a pretty good idea what was happening. Angel had pulled down his zipper and was digging around in his pants to pull out his hard cock. I could feel his body move away from mine, only below the waist, and then I felt the warm blunt head of a large penis feeding through the slit in my pants and my underpants. I felt it going between my cheeks, guided by Angel’s fingers, and then the tip of it was pressed against my opening. Now his hips moved forward, and he was forcing it in me, and it hurt like hell. He just kept pushing and pushing, and my damned asshole was starting to spread around his dick. “Ooowww. Ooowww,” I cried silently. The damned thing just kept moving in, until finally I felt his zipper scratching my asscheeks. Angel was raping me. Angel was fucking me. This couldn’t be happening.
There were tears pouring down my cheeks, but Pablo, Juanito, and Miguelito were smiling broadly in satisfaction. I couldn’t see Angel’s face, but he must have been beaming as he started to hunch into my ass. What a strange feeling. A big dick moving back and forth in my asshole. The pain was going away a little.
The train sped down the tracks toward the next station, and the car rocked back and forth. Under normal circumstances I would have lost my footing and fallen, but I was held in place on all four sides, and when my body was thrown backwards or forwards, I was either slamming my ass down on Angel’s steely rod, or lifting off of it for a second, giving him pleasure either way.
Suddenly the lights went off in the car. That happens sometimes, for a minute or two. In the dark I felt hot lips pressing down on my own, and a large meaty tongue digging into my mouth. I was really surprised. Pablo was giving me a deep juicy kiss. How disgusting! Disgusting, but somehow sexy. Sexy and stimulating. My cock was hardening. I started to suck down upon his tongue, and found my cock was getting stiffer and stiffer. Now I could feel his long hard dick pressing against my front, and I became conscious of the two erections, one on my right, and one on my left, that were pressing into my sides, rubbing against me. Juanito and Miguelito. I got so excited, I almost came in my shorts.
I closed my ass around Angel’s dick, as tightly as I could and started to jack his cock inside my body. I greedily sucked on Pablo’s tongue, and-the lights came back on and our faces separated in a flash, but I could still feel Angel in my gut. He was starting to pound furiously. Or as furiously as he could in such little space. And then I felt hot liquid gushing up into my body. It was Angel’s nectar. My hole tried to suck out his juices. When he and I had both caught our breath, and I thought it was all over, Pablo said to me “Excuse me, Papito. We don’ wanna be rude like you said, but we gotta move around a little. You just stand where you is.”
I stood firmly in place while the circle slowly pushed against the crowds and moved around me. Now Juanito was behind me, and Angel was on my right. I was facing little skinny Miguelito, and Pablo was on my left. I felt more silent fumbling below waist level, and knew that Juanito was pulling down his zipper and digging out his dick.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, I felt another hot throbbing knob dig through my torn clothes, and head towards my rectum. My rectum was wet now. Wet with Angel’s hot cum, so Juanito’s cock entered me much more easily than Angel’s had.
“You like a little better now?” asked Pablo from my left.
“Si,” I admitted. Yes.
Pablo laughed a little and whispered to the others, “He like hot Spanish cock.”
The others started giggling. “Si, si. He like Spanish cock.” I was afraid someone else would hear them, but the train was so noisy, I guess I didn’t have anything to worry about. Tall, skinny Juanito started seriously digging his cock into my hole. It wasn’t just to humiliate me anymore. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to get his rocks off in my clutching channel. His dick was a little longer than Angel’s but not quite as wide, so it was a comfortable fuck and I was enjoying it. They could see I was enjoying it. Miguelito, in front of me, drew down my zipper and dug his hand inside. He closed it around my stiff member and began to stroke. It was heavenly. Someone jacking my dick while someone plowed my ass. Heavenly.
“Ay, si. Si,” I groaned, lapsing into high school Spanish. A lady whom I had noticed first standing behind Pablo, and who was now standing just behind Miguelito looked at me strangely. She was a middle-aged Latina. She had heard me, and she clearly understood Spanish. I quickly looked away from her and tried to concentrate on Juanito’s fleshpole digging in and out of my ass. My rectum started to actively participate in the assault. It was petting and stroking the stiff hard instrument with real affection. I wished it didn’t ever have to end, but I could feel Juanito’s pelvis go into a series of determined short shoves, and more hot liquid started jetting into my thirsty hole. Juanito pulled his cock out and my hole closed in upon itself squirting some of the juice down my leg and staining my shredded pants.
Halfway down toward the floor, I felt Juanito’s big palm slapping my buttcheeks. Then I felt him stuff himself back through his zipper, and I think I even heard the zipper zipping up. Miguelito removed his soft hand from my penis, which was protruding through my own zipper. I could feel the metal edges scratching against my hard pole.
“We gonna do another ring around the rosy,” whispered Pablo into my left ear. “Now you just stand where you is.” I nodded. Once again the circle shifted around me.
Dangerous Angel who had slit my trousers and stolen my virginity was now standing eye to eye with me. I somehow knew that one wrong move and I would feel his knife in my gut. Little Miguelito was now on my left, and tall Juanito was on my right, having just emptied his balljuice into my asscanal. I looked at him. He looked contented.
Then I felt Pablo’s bristly moustache and beard at the back of my neck and along my left cheek. “Now I got the good position,” he whispered to me. “This is where I was waiting to get.” I felt his large paws caressing my asscheeks. He gave a fast little excited nip on my left ear. I didn’t think anyone had noticed, thank goodness.
Once again I felt activity below the waste, and heard the sound of a zipper. And soon another big pole was poking into my private place. But this one seemed very thick. Very very thick. How could that go in? I wondered. I was really curious now, and I forced my arms into movement, so that I could reach behind myself and feel Pablo’s heavy rod. It really was thick. “Ay, Papito, si,” he whispered to me. “Jerk my big dick. Feel what’s gonna go into yo’ hot hole. You gonna enjoy that, ain’t you?”
“Yes,” I answered. What was I going to say?’No’?
“Put it in for me, honey,” he whispered into my ear, practically licking it. “Put yo’ man’s big cock into yo’ hot pussy.” With my arm bent behind me, I tried to maneuver it into my body. I got it into position and began pressing back on it. Slowly and with difficulty my flesh was spreading apart around it, and it was heading home, nine inches into me.
“Uff,” I breathed.
“Oh, man. So nice. So nice,” chanted Pablo into my ear, as he hunched into my behind. And once I got used to the girth of it, it really was ’so nice’. I closed my eyes as the train roared forward, rocking me in a steady comforting motion on and off that meaty warm plunger. On and off. On and off. The rhythm of the tracks. I didn’t have to think about a thing. It was all just happening to me.
“Oh, Pablo,” I sighed aloud. And the Latina lady who was now behind Angel gave me a strange suspicious look. I didn’t even care. She couldn’t see anything. And it was all wonderful.
“Arthur. Arthur,” called Florence from down the car. I smiled at her and nodded. I still couldn’t wave. She was watching me as I was getting my husbandly ass fucked, and in a million years she could never imagine what was happening in that subway car. It was funny. I laughed a little. Pablo thought I was laughing from pleasure and began to hammer into me. Each time he slammed forward, I would slam back, but above the waist you couldn’t see the hint of a movement. We were just a couple of guys crushed in a subway car on the way home from the Latin Day Parade.
“Ay, Papito. Que culo,” he said appreciatively. ‘What an ass’. This time I think the woman maybe heard the word ‘culo’. She was really giving me some piercing strange looks. I kept my eyes blank. Angel meanwhile was playing with my dick, just as Miguelito had. I looked at him, but his eyes avoided me. It was like we didn’t even know each other. Okay. If that was the way he wanted it. But he kept stroking my penis, which felt very good.
Pablo was rotating his hips, trying to invent new directions to fuck me from. One direction hit my prostate hard and I would have jumped a foot in the air if only I could have moved a muscle. He heard me gasp, and started to hammer into my gland.
“Arthur. Arthur,” waved Florence, trying to edge her way through the crowd to be at my side. Just what I needed right now. “Stay there, Florence,” I yelled above the crowd in a trembling voice. “It’s too crowded.”
It was hard to speak with the feelings that were coursing through my midsection. And I wanted to concentrate on those feelings, not have to pretend that I wasn’t having those feelings with Florence jabbering pleasantries at my side, while Pablo’s big cock was threading in and out of my ass. “Uff,” I said again. The woman behind Angel gave me a dirty look. I think she was beginning to suspect something. Maybe because my face was sweating a little. I just kept a frozen smile on my face and looked beyond her.
The woman couldn’t have missed hearing Pablo’s hardly stifled throaty “GGGRAAAHH,” as his Spanish seed fertilized my assgarden. There was so much of it that it began to ooze out around his planted cock, and run down my pants legs. My ass squeezed down on the softening member, hugging it, caressing it, loving it. “Que culo,” he repeated.
“Gracias,” I murmered. The woman was now sneering at me. I took my eyes off her and looked up into Angel’s baby browns. His thin cruel lips were spread in an amused smirk. He was looking into Pablo’s eyes and communicating a shared experience. My ass.

We’d been out in the snow for over a week. The temperature had never risen above minus twenty, and I felt I would never be warm again. It had been the same old story, my sergeant had told me. “We’ll spend a week on exercise in the middle of a Norwegian winter, and the next posting we get will be to a desert.” And so it had proved. We’d been notified that our next tour would take us to Oman, so now I had forty-eight hours to kill before we embarked for home and our new assignment.
Here I was, a twenty-six year old Captain, bored, cold and desperately in need of a drink. We were stationed at a Norwegian Army base that had probably the worst Officers Mess I’d ever encountered, so I decided to try and find a bar in the town that had grown up around it. I grabbed a lift with a couple of young Norwegian squaddies who were off on a forty-eight hour pass. The younger, Erik, suggested I try the Red Bar, which was often frequented by visiting Officers. “Very stylish” he told me.
They dropped me outside, and I stopped to gaze in through the large plate glass window. The place was packed, and I could hear – no, I could feel on my chest – the heavy thump of a sound system in overdrive. I wanted a drink, yes, but I didn’t want to go deaf at the same time. I decided to give it a miss, and passed on down the street. I found a second bar – and then a third – but each was as crowded and as noisy as the first.
I was just beginning to despair at ever getting a drink when I caught sight of a small bar in a side street. I almost missed it; the only indication that it was a bar at all was a small illuminated Pernod sign. I walked over, listening as I approached. It was quiet. Was it closed? No, the doorway, I saw, was lit, and through the glass I saw a couple of people sat at a table. This was more like it. I stepped inside, and the bell above the door tinkled.
There were five people inside; two young men sat in one corner, their table covered in empty beer bottles, an older couple, husband and wife I thought, sat at a table by the bar, deep in conversation and behind the bar a young girl was washing glasses in a small sink.
The two men watched me suspiciously as I approached the bar. I paid them no heed; I wanted a drink. The girl watched me approach, smiled, and said something in Norwegian that I didn’t understand. “Vodka, please”, I said, removing my coat.
“You are English?” she asked. “A soldier?”
“Yes” I said “A Marine, actually”.
“My brother, he is a soldier – a Corporal.”
“Really? I’m a Captain. Ben Jones, 45 commando.” I said, offering her my hand.
“I am Maria,” she said, taking it. “My father owns this bar.”
Her fingers lingered for a second, and then she turned and poured me a shot of Vodka. “This one is, how do you say it..? ‘on the house’.”
“Well, thanks” I said, taking the proffered glass and swallowing down the contents in a single swift movement. I could feel the spirit slip down my throat, its fire warming my frozen core. I heard the doorbell jingle, and turned to see the backs of the two young men in the doorway, making a hasty exit.
“Soldiers” said Maria by way of explanation. “Probably out without permission. Officers – even British ones – make them nervous.”
I took a moment to examine her; probably eighteen or nineteen, maybe five feet tall with blonde hair down to her shoulders framing a pretty, if slightly chubby face. She poured me a second drink, and then a third. I finished them both quickly and ordered a beer. I had warmed up sufficiently, I decided, and needed a long drink.
She uncapped the bottle and passed it across. As I took my first taste, the couple at the nearby table rose, took their coats, and headed off into the early evening darkness. “My last two regulars.” she said. “I usually close up at seven.” I glanced at the clock on the wall; it was already five past. “You want me to go?” I asked.
“No, no” she said. “I just didn’t want you to think you were scaring away my customers.”
I laughed, and she began to tell me about herself, the town, and the bar. Her father was a local businessman, and had owned the bar for twenty years. He also owned a nightclub, the Red Bar. Had I heard of it? I said I had past it, but hadn’t been in. “It is not so good” she said. “Always there are fights between soldiers there. The police want to close it, but my father has lots of friends. It stays open. He wanted me to work there, too, but I do not like it so he lets me run this bar instead.”
I said I liked the place, and she smiled. “I wish more people did,” she said. “Today, all day, I have had only nine customers. This is why I close early.” That was a shame, I said. I would have to find somewhere else to drink.
“No” she said. “For you I stay open.”
“Then join me for a drink.” I said.
“Thank you. But I do not drink when I am working.”
I turned away and walked over to the door. I slid the bolt, pulled down the blind, crossed to the window and drew down the blind there, too. “Now”, I said, “you are closed. Will you join me for a drink?”
She picked up a bottle of wine and a glass, and stepped out from behind the bar. As she did, she seemed to shrink, and I noticed that there was a step back there. She was tiny – a couple of inches under five feet, I judged. She was wearing a grey rollneck sleeveless sweater and short dark skirt, and she pointed to the table the two young men had vacated. I joined her as she cleared away the detritus of their drinking, disposing of the bottles in a small storeroom adjacent the bar. We sat, and as we drank she told me more about herself.
She was eighteen, and studying part-time at a college. She hoped to go to University in a couple of years, she said, but was in no hurry. She wanted to study Business, and hoped one day to own her own chain of bars. “Not like my father, though – I want bars that are nice to drink in, not noisy and dirty” she said. She also wanted to travel, to see the world, and to find a nice boyfriend. I checked at this.
“I’d have thought that a girl who ran a bar would never be short of a boyfriend” I said, smiling.
“Oh sure” she said. “But those boys are only interested in beer. They are worse for business than the soldiers.”
“So, do you not like soldiers?” I asked.
“Ack! No, I don’t. They are – what is the word? – coarse and rude!”
“Even me?”
She frowned, then, and her face became thoughtful. For a moment she was absolutely still, and then she suddenly leaned across and kissed me on the cheek. “No, not you! You are different” she said.
“Because I’m English?”
“Because you are polite and….”
“And?” I asked
“And sexy” she said, her cheeks colouring. She giggled, her fingertip stroking the lip of her glass. “Sorry, I am being silly now” she added.
“Silly?”
“I am talking too much.”
I leaned forward and brushed my lips against hers, laying my hand upon her cheek. I could feel the heat from her blush. Her lips parted slowly, and her tongue darted out to touch mine. My hand slipped behind her head, holding her mouth against mine, and we exchanged a long, heated kiss.
She pulled away after a few minutes, her eyes shining beneath drooping eyelids. She stood for a moment, turned to face me, then brought her right leg round to sit upon my lap facing me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and looked up into my eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but I leaned down and clamped my lips to hers. We began to kiss in earnest then, her tongue wrestling with mine, exploring my mouth as mine probed hers. My hands wandered up and down her back, taking in her pert round bottom, tracing up her spine to her shoulders, pulling her to me. I let one hand fall to her knee, running it up her outer thigh, drawing the skirt up with it.
“You like me then?” she asked, disentangling her fingers from my hair. “I am not too fat?”
“Fat?” I replied. “No, I don’t think you’re fat.”
“Some boys think I have too big the thighs” she said. “What do you think?” Before I had chance to re-run the sentence through my head to sort out the grammar, he had risen to her feet, unhooked the clip on her skirt, and let it fall in a pool at her feet. She twirled around slowly, and I allowed my gaze to take in a pair of toned thighs, dimpled slightly but by no means fat, a bottom that was round as a peach, bisected by the pink fabric of her lacy briefs. She rested her hands upon her hips and gave me a coy smile. “Well?”
“Very nice” I said.
“You like?”
“Absolutely”
“And the rest?” Her hands gripped the bottom of the sweater, pulling it in a single fluid motion up and over her head, revealing two small, plump breasts with large, pink aureoles and small hard nipples, a gently curving stomach and a navel pierced with a small dolphin-shaped stud. I wrapped my hand around her waist, onto the small of her back, and pulling her to my side, took one of her nipples in my mouth, while my free hand snaked up to play with the other. She squealed briefly, and then began to murmur into my ear. I allowed my left hand to slip down onto her behind, caressing her cheeks and tugging aside the flimsy fabric to stroke along her cleft.
Her own hands were busy, now, trying to take off my shirt – a task not helped by the fact that she was pressed tightly against me. Eventually, I stood, and allowed her fingers to unbutton my top. She ran her hands across my chest, brushing down the hairs that ran the full length of my torso. She sought out my nipples, licking them gently, and I felt them harden as her tongue flicked against them. She began to kiss my chest, then crouched slowly, gradually kissing down my abdomen towards my waist. Her fingers tugged at the buckle of my belt, and then at the buttons and zip of my trousers.
“Oh my god!” she gasped as my erect penis sprang free of its constraint. She took hold of it, and I looked down at her. Her eyes were bright, her lips glistened, and my cock, held in such tiny hands, had never looked so big. “It’s huge!” she said.
In truth, fully erect it’s about seven and a half inches, which I believe is the top end of average. Hardly huge, but I had no idea how many she had seen before. “Not really,” I said, “I’m sure you’ve seen bigger.”
She tore her gaze away from it, and looked into my eyes, a little frightened, guilty expression on her face. “Actually,” she said “this is the first one I’ve ever seen for real.”
My cock twitched, a little drop of pre-cum appearing at its tip. Bloody hell, a virgin. Surely not? She must have had boyfriends before? She seemed fascinated by the little blob of liquid, and her finger wiped it off and she sucked at it. A puzzled expression crossed her face. “It tastes funny” she said.
“You don’t like it?” I asked.
“My sister said it tastes like salted sour cream” she said, adding a mental picture to my mind that I found hard to erase.
“You discuss this sort of thing with your sister?”
“Oh, she tells me all about her boyfriends. How big they are, how hard they get, how they fuck her…” My cock twitched again as she used the word, bringing forth more pre-cum. Her tongue darted out to taste it. “I thought I would like to find out for myself” she added.
“Well?”
“Not sour cream. I don’t know.” Her tiny mouth closed around the head, her tongue brushing over the slit. I wanted to grab her hair and force it all the way in, right back into her throat, but her tongue was in the way. She seemed to be savouring the taste, her head twisting from side to side. Her tongue pressed against it, her lips parted, and my cock was once again bobbing before her. “It’s nice” she said.
She was on her knees now, her fingers still wrapped around my shaft, a little smile on her lips. She opened her mouth, and suddenly she was swallowing me, taking the whole length into her. I watched it disappear, until her nose was resting against me, her hands flat on my pelvis. She stayed there for a moment, then suddenly gagged and pushed me away hurriedly. I thought that she would end it there, but instead, having caught her breath, she came back, this time taking it halfway down the shaft, and began to bob slowly back and forth, sucking gently. I rested my hands lightly upon her head, stroking her hair, encouraging her. She may never have done this before, but she seemed to have picked up tips from somewhere.
My balls began to tighten, and I knew that if she kept this up I would blow my load in fairly short order. She seemed to sense it, and her rhythm slowed to a halt. She kissed the tip, the shaft, down to my balls, then knelt back, a big smile on her face. “Did you like that?” she asked.
For answer, I put my hands on her upper arms, guided her to her feet, and sat her on the edge of the table. I put my fingers in the waistband of her lacy pink panties, and noticed a large damp stain on the crotch. She lifted her bottom slightly, and I pulled them down in one swift move, past her knees and feet, and dropped them on the floor. Her legs parted, and there, beneath a light dusting of blonde pubic curls, was her damp little pussy.
I knelt between her knees, leaned forward and ran my tongue along it. She lay back and shivered, her hand coming down to hold herself open as my tongue began questing at the edges, licking her labial lips, probing around the apex for the little button that slowly emerged from beneath its clitoral hood. As I flicked across it, her body jerked, thrusting her hips at me, her bottom slapping loudly on the table. I reached up, slipping a finger slowly inside her. Suddenly, it dawned on me; she really was a virgin. Until that moment, it hadn’t truly sunk in. Now it did, which was more than could be said for my finger. She was so tight I couldn’t get more than the first joint inside her. I pressed gently, twisting and wiggling my finger, and very, very gradually she began to accept more of it, until, eventually, my whole finger had disappeared.
Now I began to stroke it in and out of her. She was tight, but she was also extremely wet, and her juices glistened on my finger as it slid rapidly in and out. She was bucking wildly, my tongue savaging her clit as my finger probed her pussy. “Please” she begged “no, please….I….Oh God!”
She tensed suddenly, her whole body wracked by the climax that coursed through her. I held her down, tweaking at her nipples as she writhed upon the table before me, her pussy pressed into my face, my finger trapped inside her as she spasmed and heaved.
She sat up as the contractions subsided, wrapping her arms around my neck. There were tears on her cheek, and I kissed them away as she moaned and sobbed quietly into my neck. She hung there for a moment, limp, almost lifeless, before her hand began reaching down into my groin. He fingers grasped it gently, and she began to tug it toward herself. “Will you… will you put it… inside me?” she whispered.
I’d been thinking of little else since her orgasm had begun, and nodded slowly. “It might hurt” I said, and she bit her lip thoughtfully. “Only for a moment, though” I added, trying to reassure her. She looked at me, her grey eyes red from her tears, and said “That’s okay.”
I pushed her back down, flat upon the table, opening her legs as wide as I could. Very carefully, I inched my penis towards her, pushing it down, guiding it towards her tiny little slit. Pressing forward, I watched as her pussy slowly swallowed the tip. I pushed a little harder, but she was so tight that for a moment it would go no further. “Try to relax, Maria” I murmured “It’ll be alright.”
She nodded, and as I pressed again I began to slide further inside her. Suddenly I felt the taut barrier of her hymen before it, and gripped her thighs tightly. “Okay, baby, this is the hard part” I said, and bore down into her. I felt it tear, and she stifled a little scream as I pushed through the remains of her tattered maidenhead. I leaned over her, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Okay?” I asked her.
She nodded again, a little tear in the corner of one eye, and I slid the rest of my manhood into her. At last, the whole length was inside her, and I stopped and looked down at her. “How does that feel?”
“Wonderful” she said. “I never thought…” She was silent, then, a look of contentment on her face. I rested my hands upon her breasts, fondling her hard, erect nipples, and she squirmed beneath my touch, her hips thrusting against me. She smiled, and said something in Norwegian I didn’t understand. She looked at my puzzled expression. “It means ‘fuck me’” she said, smiling.
I needed no second bidding. I gripped her thighs again and began to thrust slowly into her, drawing back almost to the tip then driving slowly back into her. Every stroke seemed to knock the breath out of her, her face contorting as our pubic hair collided. She wrapped her legs around my back, and my thrusts became shorter and faster. She began moaning again, the noise seeming to fill the bar, drowning out the slapping sound my balls were making as they collided with her.
She was close, now, to a second orgasm, and I drove faster and faster, hoping to time my own to match hers. I was breathing heavily, grunting as my strokes went deeper into her tightening hole, feeling my cock being squeezed and milked by her muscles. Her back arched, and suddenly she was overcome by her climax, her hips thrashing wildly against me. I felt my balls tighten, and my body tensed. As the first great spurt of cum blasted inside her, her eyes grew wide, first with delight, and then with fear. She pushed me back as the second jolt fired into her, and then my cock was free, discharging its milky load over her breasts, her belly, and then onto her wet pubic mound…
Oh God, she said later, what had she been thinking? She wasn’t on the pill – hadn’t been using any form of protection, hadn’t thought I would…
Looking back on it now, I suppose I should have known better. I hadn’t even thought about contraception; you don’t, when you get that involved so quickly. But what was done, was done. Some people would say I was just unlucky; others that I was stupid. Well, whatever.
We were married a couple of months later – before the bump began to show – and almost nine months to the day later she gave birth to a bouncing baby boy we named Erik. Some of you might wonder why I married her at all. Why didn’t I do what so many soldiers do – just fuck ‘em and forget ‘em? And the truth is, I don’t know. But neither do I regret it. We’ve had some interesting times since that day, but they’re stories for another time – if you want to hear them?

I pulled out in traffic driving the beautiful, shiny blue Ferrari Scaglietti 612. The sounds from the car were intoxicating and I felt so conspicuous feeling the envious stares of all those around me. I couldn’t wait to rev it higher and shift from first to second and from second to third to hear more of the melodious melody that the car made to my receptive ears. What a car! What a fabulous car!
Normally, I don’t like leather seating, but surprisingly the leather in the Ferrari was supportive, comfortable, and held me in place. And I liked the contrast of the red leather interior against the deep, blue metallic paint exterior. The small, thick steering wheel felt custom made to my hands and fingers and the shifter was a perfect feel and placement to shift, as were the pedals. It was too much to take in at once. There were so many settings and buttons that I wanted to park and read the owners manual. This thing must have cost three hundred thousand dollars.
The traffic on Newbury Street is always bumper to bumper with people walking out and crossing in front of your car without looking, people looking for parking spaces, and people double parking. I took the first right off Newbury Street onto Berkeley Street, drove across Commonwealth Avenue, across Malboro Street, and across Beacon Street taking the Storrow Drive exit west towards Newton.
I couldn’t wait to give the car some gas and instantly, I had the big 540 horsepower, Ferrari V12 up past a hundred as I motored past the Kenmore Square exit for Fenway Park and away from Boston. It felt like I was doing 50 miles per hour. Cher kept one white knuckled hand on the passenger door and the other glued to my thigh. My senses were a dizzying whirl of sounds, sights, smells, and feels. I slowed to 80mph, so that we could have a conversation.
We drove along the scenic Charles River with Harvard and MIT on the right and Boston University and Boston College on the left. Past