Posts Tagged oral sex

Rain on a Two-Lane Highway

January 17, 2011 at 6:42 am · Filed under erotica, sex ·Tagged , ,

It was an epic trek from East to West, a nearly spontaneous roadtrip-vacation that sent me speeding across that almost inconceivably vast stretch of continent called North America. Just another guy in just another car, pushing forty and holding his breath against middle-age. A long, long, long stretch of this country, as seen from the inside of a rental car on I-90 with the cruise control dialed in at 74 mph is flat, banal, and same-ish. Exit ramps, gas stations, fast food joints, motels and McMansions repeat themselves like an animated porno GIF.  I finally climbed out of the desert into the setting sun, caught one brief glimpse of the snow-capped peaks of the Cascades, and then began my long steep descent, plunging into thick forests of evergreen, silent and impenetrable. The clouds seemed to extend all the way down to the ground; flashes of brilliant green amongst the mists, now and then a fleeting glimpse of water, a working harbor, my wipers constantly on a slow intermittent.

A wet two-lane highway, shrouded with trees. The darkness that enveloped me was thick and heavy, as if a wool blanket had been thrown over the car. I found their house, old friends reunited, if only for a night. Erich and July, compadres from days gone by. I had once considered poaching July from under Erich’s nose back when they were first dating, and she had seemed at least tentatively willing to be poached, but nothing had ever come of it. Home-made veggie burgers, salad from the garden, sweet potato fries, a bottle of red wine and then another. Their daughter, Freya, was a teenager now. I remembered seeing her baby pictures. Strange, how time accelerates as you get older. She was an attractive girl, neither a surly nor a prissy teen; she seemed intelligent and shy, fascinated by life in New York, but a little too bashful to really join in the conversation, which became louder and more boisterous as the wine disappeared. She had long, carefully brushed blonde hair and glasses. She was tall and slightly awkward and had a pretty smile. She reminded me of a young giraffe. I felt her eyes on me all the way through dinner. Her solemn gaze made me feel oddly self-conscious.

Solarium overlooking the back yard and the evergreen trees beyond. They made the futon into a bed for me, crisp high-thread count cotton sheets, down pillows. A long way away from the shithole apartment we had briefly shared in the distant past, sandwiched between a strip-mall and the railroad tracks, choked with art supplies, bongs, paperbacks and compact discs, the ephemera of a liberal arts education. I snuggled naked under the covers, comfortably half-drunk and exhausted from travel, resisting for once the habitual urge to jerk off. Sleep came like a sledgehammer, and I do not remember dreaming.

I woke up stupid early, with an erection, a dry mouth, and the shadow of a headache.  Deciphered the complexities of their coffee machine, picked up yesterdays Times, crawled back into bed. The headache and the morning wood started to fade as night surrendered to early morning. The sun had not yet risen, though the overcast sky was pale with the coming dawn.

I sat up in the bed, sipping my coffee and not really reading an article about the recession while dim light insinuated itself over the damp, dewy garden.

Freya slipped into the room, looking like a page out of the Land’s End catalog in her blue flannel pajamas. She carried a large glass of orange juice and a spiral-bound notebook.

-Getting ready for school? I asked.

-No, silly.  It’s the middle of the night. [not technically true] And it’s Saturday. [I had forgotten. Days of the week, for the time being, had become irrelevant]

She sat down on the bed next to me. I felt cruelly conscious of my nakedness under the white cotton sheet.

-Would you read something I’ve written? I could feel the tension in her voice.

-Of course. I set down my paper and put the coffee aside. Girlish, curvilinear handwriting. It was Harry Potter slash fiction, I was surprised and somewhat discomfited to discover.  Rather naive and unpolished, but surprisingly well-written. And kind of hot too. Her story was told from Hermione’s perspective, peeping through a hole in the wall as the evil professor Snape tormented and lambasted young Harry Potter, eventually making him bend over and drop his trousers for a bare-bottom spanking, and then poor Harry, red-faced and red-cheeked, was forced to suck Snape’s magnificent alabaster dick.

-Do you think I could ever be a writer?

-Absolutely.  Don’t let anyone discourage you.  Never stop writing.

-Read more.  Read it aloud.

She snuggled up to me like a big, friendly house cat, and I was painfully aware of the warmth of her young female body pressed up against mine.  I continued reading, this time out loud.  It was a shockingly detailed anatomical description of a blowjob, with Harry reluctant and ashamed at first, then becoming more and more relaxed and even eager as Snape took his pleasure in the young wizard’s mouth.

‘Hermione’s hand slipped between her kneeling legs and caressed the throbbing wetness between her thighs as she watched Harry’s head bob up and down, faster and faster, Snape snarling as he approached his climax.’

Freya nuzzled closer against me. Her leg was pressed against my own. I set down her notebook and put my arm around her shoulder. She rested her head on my shoulder. I could see my own cock clearly outlined in bas-relief under the clean white sheet. She slipped her little hand under the covers and tentatively stroked my naked thigh.

I kissed her.

She kissed me back, sweet, eager, and inept, throwing her whole being into it. She took my hand, guided it inside her pajama tops, and I was cupping her small, perfect breast. I tweaked the stiff little nipple, and she jumped, kissing me harder.

Emboldened, I slipped my other hand down the front of her pajama bottoms. She stiffened, her tongue frozen in my mouth. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.  Her pussy was covered with impossibly soft fur, like the pelt of a baby seal. I parted the lips with my finger. She was very wet, hot and slippery.

Freya broke off our kiss, shook her head ‘no’, and took my wrist, removing my hand from down her pants. I felt chagrined, but she smiled up at me, and flipped the sheet back to reveal my erection, hard and swollen, bobbing slightly in time with my pulse, the bulbous red glans oozing a steady stream of sticky clear juice.

She grinned wolfishly, bent over, and kissed it, right on the head, licked the length of my shaft like a big hot popsicle, making my dick stand rigidly at attention.

She looked up at me as if to ask ‘is this okay?’ I did not tell her no.

She opened her mouth and swallowed my penis, as much of it as she was able. Maybe the top third fit into her mouth. I don’t think she had much experience sucking dick; what she was lacking in technique she made up for with enthusiasm. I lifted her pretty straight blonde hair aside so I could watch my cock being devoured by her hungry young lips.  She sucked on me like a piece of rock candy, like she was trying to get past the hard outer shell and at the sweet sticky nougat inside. Her mouth was closed around the head of my dick ferociously, as if she were trying to inhale me, vacuum-seal me, collapse my entire body from the cock on up. It took every ounce of what little remained of my self-control to not grab her by the back of the head and force her mouth all the way down my aching cock, shoving my dick down her throat and fucking her face until I came.

I imagined jumping up, yanking her pajama pants down, stuffing my cock up her juicy young pussy. I imagined fucking her hard and deep, jamming my finger up her tiny pink butt hole. I pictured her bouncing up and down on my cock, golden hair flying, miniature boobs jumping in time with my every thrust. I imagined covering her mouth with my own as she orgasmed, her arms wrapped around me and her lithe body trembling as she came; and I imagined coming inside her, my balls mashed up against her vulva, pumping her virgin pussy full to overflowing with my semen.

Instead, I grasped my own cock, wrapping my thumb and forefinger around the base and jerking off, with rapid butterfly strokes, into her eagerly sucking little mouth.

Somewhere in the far-off distance of the kitchen, I could hear one of her parents stirring. My balls were fat and heavy between my legs. My body clenched and spasmed, my orgasm tickling the base of my spine and curling my toes. I lifted my hips up off the bed, screaming silently.

Freya stayed with me, long after the orgasm had subsided, attached to my rapidly shrinking wet noodle like a nursing kitten, swallowing hungrily and milking every last drop of semen out of me. It was disconcerting like she was wringing out an used-up tube of toothpaste.

Someone turned on a television in another room. I heard the cheerful, vacuous voices of the morning news. Freya finally detached herself from my crotch, still grinning happily, straightened out her glasses and buttoned up the top of her pjs, which had somehow come undone. She took her notebook and her half-empty glass of orange juice and left me where I lay: a panting, limp, sticky, wet mess.

We all had breakfast together, crepes and vegetarian bacon. Promises to stay in touch, promises to come visit, well-wishes and offers of food to take with, home-made bread and organic butter, lunch for the road.

And then it was time for me to go. They walked with me out to my car.  Erich shook my hand, July hugged me, and then Erich gave in and hugged me. I could see Freya watching through the window in the solarium, but I couldn’t read her face. I pulled out of the driveway and turned right, out and away, their house swallowed up in the northwestern rainforest behind me.

Later, she will send me letters and emails; she will remember my birthday. I will hear about high school and boyfriends, and she will tell me about losing her virginity. She will ask me my opinion about colleges; I will read her rough drafts; she will confess to me that she loves anal sex; and one drunken horny night we will masturbate for each other on webcam. She will send me a signed copy of her first short story collection. Someday I will be invited to her wedding, and feel at once proud, awkward, out-of-place and disturbingly old as her friends and new husband address me as ‘Mister’.

But all that is in the future. Now I am just another car on the two-lane highway, another guy with a guilty conscience. It starts to rain in earnest, and I turn the wipers on high. The road is still blurrily obscured, and I curse the wiper blades before I realize that I am weeping.

END

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Artificial Alan

January 2, 2011 at 12:16 am · Filed under erotica, sex ·Tagged , , , ,

My brand-new Artificial Alan arrived on a Saturday morning, by way of an old UPS truck, converted over to hydrogen fuel cells, spray-painted Day-Glo orange, and double-parked in front of my building.

I’d tracked him in real time from the factory in Bangalore where he’d been assembled, to the integration center in Dublin; from there through Port Newark and then to a warehouse in Brooklyn where he had languished for two whole days.  It had taken a phone call –a phone call!– to jumpstart the process.  And now here he was, just as promised!

Leaning over the balcony rail, I watched the delivery guy load the large, square cardboard box off the back of his truck and onto a handcart.  Don’t. You. Fucking. Drop. It.

It seemed to take forever for him to get to my apartment.  I live sixteen floors up, in a building that was once an office tower. The owners had abdicated years ago, and the elevators have been out of service since long before I moved in.  That’s part of the price you pay for living rent free.  Another is the lack of heat and air conditioning.  Even so, it was taking unreasonably long.  After all this, it wasn’t getting delivered to the wrong apartment, was it?  My poor pussy cringed at the very thought.

Finally, the rap at the door.

The delivery guy was a rasta dude, well over six feet tall, in a blue jumpsuit with nothing on underneath.  He was really ripped, black muscles tensing and bulging.  He was covered in sweat from the climb, and smelled like a sexy mixture of ganja, male perspiration, and incense.  If I was one of those sassy size-zero girls in the tri-dee pornos I’ve gotten so addicted to, that is where I would have jumped him.

Instead, I just signed for the package, which was surprisingly heavy, and thanked him for bringing it all the way up.  I tipped the guy 500 Yucks, greasy, tissue-thin paper money, and he grinned and bobbed his head knowingly at me.

Holy over-packaging!  The cardboard box was full of peanuts. Excavation revealed a knife-resistant plastic blisterpack, which enclosed a styrofoam clamshell which finally contained my new shrink-wrapped Artificial Alan.

He was beautiful, of course.  I’d selected the inputs myself; an algorithmically extruded amalgamation of Sonny Chiba, Clint Eastwood, and Toshiro Mifune, with just a touch of a young Will Smith thrown in for spice.

It was a pity I’d only been able to afford the head.  But hey, I wait tables for a living.

The instructions said he had to charge for six hours before the first use.  Hrrmph, they didn’t mention that in the sales brochure.  Oh well.  I had to go to work anyway.  I sat him on my coffee table (read: executive desk truncated with a Sawzall), and plugged him into a wall socket; got dressed and threw my work clothes in a carry-along bag.  The Crazy Lady is only three blocks from my tower, but man, those stairs are a bitch!

I thought about him all day while I made coffee and delivered tiny fried chicken sandwiches to Asian men in identical prefab suits.

When I got home, the LED at the base of his neck was glowing solid green.  I thought about taking a shower first, but I’d had quite enough anticipation.  He was an artificial.  He wouldn’t mind a little sweat, would he?

I thumbed the ON switch, and there was a barely audible hum as he powered up.  I held my breath.  Please work.  Please, please don’t Bill Gates on me.  Finally, his eyes blinked open.  They were big, soft oak brown eyes, with specks of gold in the irises.  They looked around the room, the big empty room still strewn with packing material, and then settled on me.  He smiled, and I felt myself blush.

“Are you my End User?” he asked, eyebrows raised in a question mark, “You’re quite lovely.”

I blushed and beamed despite myself.  Getting all hot and bothered over compliments from a machine.  Ha!  “Oh, you’re just programmed to say that…”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, “We did all our beta integration on Artificial Angies.  They’re just a bunch of Barbie Doll clones.  No personality.  I find you much more attractive.  I’ll bet you’re a really good kisser…” he paused, as if embarrassed “…I hope that’s not too forward.”

“Not at all,” I said, tentatively stroking his cheek.  His flesh was warm and soft, with just a hint of stubble, as if he had shaved early that morning.  I lifted him up and brought him to my lips.

He was a really good kisser: passionate, eager, exploring me with just enough tongue and playful nips and tugs from his perfect teeth.  Holding him up to my face felt awkward and got uncomfortable fast, so I set him on the couch, and we made out like that for a while.  I ran my fingers through his hair, which was thin, fine and clean.

“I’d like to see your breasts” he said, “if you don’t mind.”  It was cute to see him blush.  They’d engineered it perfectly.

“I don’t mind one bit,” I said, peeling off my work shirt and bra.  I fed him my boobs, which he attacked with unabashed joy.  It must have looked ridiculous, from a bird’s-eye view; a disembodied head sucking my nipples pink and hard until they stuck out like gumdrops; but I didn’t care.  I for one was having a blast!

“Would you like to go down on me?” I asked, already knowing the answer, “Would you like to lick my pussy?”

“I’d love to!” he grinned up at me, “I’m equipped with the new mimetically-programmed advanced cunnilingus routine… I’m dying to try it out on you.”

I shucked off my black skirt and tossed my damp panties in the general direction of the laundry basket.  I’ve never put up anything to cover the windows, and I’m always wandering around the apartment in the nude.  I’ve often fantasized about my neighbors; other people in the high rise towers around mine, watching me through high power binoculars.  Sometimes I masturbate to that, putting myself on display for the empty window.  Well, if anyone was watching that Saturday afternoon, they were in for a show!

He licked and kissed and nibbled my upper thighs, assiduously avoiding my needy parts, tormenting me with a discipline no flesh-and-blood lover of mine had ever demonstrated.  It took all the discipline I had to not grab him by both ears and mash him into my cunt.

Finally, when I really couldn’t bear the teasing one more instant, when I really was about to mash his mouth into my sopping wet crotch, he at long last dove in.

His slithering tongue found its way through my slick folds.  He methodically explored my pussy, tracing that impossibly long and agile tongue all the way from the top of my slit, carefully avoiding my clitoris, down the length and breadth of my vulva and beyond, dancing merrily around and then on my asshole.  I squirmed and giggled as his tongue invaded my butt.  GOD, he was good!

Then he traced his way back up toward my clit.  Never actually on that sensitive flesh, his flickering tongue weaving in close, but never quite touching me, always just a Planck length away from those critical nerve endings.  My clit strained outward.  With two fingers, I squeezed and separated, offering myself to him.  He finally accepted my offer, the soft wet flat of his tongue pressing oh so gently against my hyper-excited button, moving in infinitesimally small circles; up and down, left and right; and I exploded, bucking and shaking, squeezing him hard between my thighs. He kept licking, tracing those exquisite little circles.  A human would have had to come up for air, but not Alan.  I gave myself over to it, the orgasm broke over my body like a rogue wave, throwing me tumbling through the surf, gasping for air.

His face was all sticky, and he was smiling, a huge goofy smile, when I lifted him up and placed him back on the coffee table.

“How was that?” he asked, “You’re not going to mail me back to Dublin and those awful Angies, are you?”

“That,” I said, still trying to catch my breath, my body still quivering through residual aftershocks, “that was fucking amazing!”

“What would you like to do now?” he asked, “I could start teaching you French.  Or I could read you some Shakespeare.  I have the complete sonnets on file.”

“Actually,” I said, stretching lazily and spreading my legs wide.  I traced a finger up and down my pussy.  Wet.  “Actually, I thought we’d try doing that one more time.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” he said.  I was tweaking my nipples, rolling them between thumb and forefinger.  I hoped someone was watching through binoculars.  This was too good.

“You know,” Alan went on, “If you got me the Arms and Torso Accessory Kit, I could give you a nice back rub… or a sound spanking.”

Actually, I’m saving up for a Plug-in Penis Pack.  It’s supposed to plug into the abdomen, but it can be used separately too, with a wireless connection.  You get to specify the exact length and girth you want, and you can choose from 52 different anatomical archetypes, erect and flaccid, with a 5% randomizer built in just to keep it spicy.  When you’re ready to feel your Artificial Alan come, the user-actuated pseudo-orgasm routine features a hypoallergenic butterscotch-flavored semen analog.  And… it vibrates.

END

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Birthday Brunch

December 21, 2010 at 8:28 am · Filed under erotica, sex ·Tagged , , ,

“Old… Used up… All alone…”

It was my first birthday as a single man, the first birthday I could remember that I’d be spending on my own.  I sluggishly rolled over and looked at the clock.  8:30. Too early to start drinking?  Well, I sure didn’t feel like jerking off.

From somewhere across the bedroom floor, my phone jangled obnoxiously.  I stumbled around looking for it, before I retrieved it from the pocket of the pants I had been wearing yesterday.  It was a number I didn’t recognize.  Who the hell would be calling me? Especially at this hour on a Saturday?

“Hi!” The voice on the other end was female and chipper.  “What are you up to this morning?”

“Wallowing.”

“Aww, don’t do that.  Get up!  Get dressed!  We’re taking you out for brunch!  Meet us over at Union Square in half an hour.”

“Um, who is this?”

“Kira!  …from work?  Get your pants on!”

Kira from work was kind of a friend of mine, a friend in that we were friendly to each other at work, but we’d never hung out before.  She worked in the IT department, and I’d always kind of assumed she was a dyke.  She was a pixie of a girl who looked tinier than she really was.  She biked to work every day, and carried a big olive messenger bar with punk rock stickers plastered all over.  She had short, spiky hair that changed color on a daily basis, and a tattoo of a risqué art-nouveau wood nymph on her shoulder (it peeked out from under her t-shirt, and when I’d asked her about it, she had yanked off her shirt and shown me the whole thing.  Definitely not a work-safe tattoo.)  Her brown eyes flashed whenever she was excited or angry.  She reminded me of a wood elf.  I always found myself double checking to see if she had pointy ears.

Well, what the hell.  I pulled myself together, took a shower and scraped the stubble off my face, and hauled my skinny white butt over to Union Square.

They were waiting for me.  Kira was wearing forest-green pants and a black stretchy t-shirt that emphasized her perky little boobs.  Her hair was freshly copper-colored, and her eyes sparkled wickedly.  Once again I had to check for pointy ears.

She’d brought two friends with her: Mitch, another guy from the IT department, outrageously tall and skinny and pale; and his girlfriend Faye, a roly-poly blonde girl with soft curly locks, big boobs that threatened to fall out of her flannel shirt, a large round butt, and a big honest smile that pushed her from frumpy all the way into the realm of beautiful.

“So how old are you today, man?” Mitch asked me.

“Old,” I responded, “older than dirt.”

“Oh, cheer up, Grumpypants!” Kira interjected, “You don’t look a day over forty!”

We walked south, and a few blocks east, and ended up at a French Café that was only just opening up.  We were the only customers.

They sat us at a big round booth in the corner.  The waitress, a skinny girl with black hair, high cheek bones, multiple earrings, and a charming French accent, took our order.  Coffee and Bloody Marys all round.  She went away to get our drinks.  She had a sassy little French ass inside her faded blue jeans.

“Excuse me for a second” Kira said, and then she disappeared under the table.

‘What…the…fuck…?!’

The words flashed dumbly through my brain as Kira elbowed her way between my knees and started tugging at my zipper.  Mitch and Faye appeared to be smirking as if they were in on a joke.  Down underneath the table, Kira had successfully gotten my zipper down and was working on extracting my cock.  I was too flabbergasted to even begin to be hard.

She sucked it into her mouth like a floppy wet noodle.  I jumped, and Faye giggled.  Just about then our waitress came back with a tray of drinks and asked if she could take our order.

Mitch and Faye ordered omelets.  I managed to stammer out that I’d like French toast.  I definitely had an erection now, and Kira was doing her level best to devour it.  The waitress looked questioningly at Kira’s empty place.  “Our friend will have the pancakes.” Faye said.

As soon as the waitress’ back was turned, Kira was pulling hard on my pants.  I lifted my butt up slightly and *whoosh* my pants and boxers were yanked down around my ankles.  I experienced the very odd and unusual feeling of being completely naked from the waist down in a very public setting.  A cool breeze wafted over my saliva-wet privates.  I didn’t get much time to dwell on my predicament.  Kira immediately went back to work down there, apparently attempting to swallow my cock whole.

Mitch and Faye seemed to be enjoying the various expressions pass across my face.  They placidly sipped their Bloody Marys and watched me squirm.

What Kira was doing was driving me absolutely insane. She was playing me like a musical instrument, alternately stroking my shaft light and fast like the wings of a butterfly until I was just about to explode; and then dropping the tempo right back down, licking up and down the length of my dick and swirling her tongue around the head.  She’d shower my entire penis with kisses, gently nibble and kiss my ball sac, nuzzle her way into the darker territory of my taint, before popping up and trying to jam my cock all the way down her throat.  When she did that, it was very difficult for me to not reach under the table, grab her head, and start humping her wide open mouth.  I think Mitch and Faye were picking up on that, judging by the amount of tittering that was coming from their end of the table.

I was lolling in ecstasy.  Just about the time that I was giving in to Kira’s tormenting pleasure, just as I was about to shoot off into her mouth the next time her tongue so much as brushed the head of my cock, our pretty French waitress showed up with the food.

“Ees everything ok?” she asked with a quizzical smile and a painfully cute accent, “You haven’t touched your drink.”

When she bent over to give me my French toast, I got a tremendous view of her cleavage.  She smiled broadly.  “Bon Appetite!”

As soon as the waitress was gone, Kira popped up from under the table, grinning from ear to ear like a well-fed cat, leaving me hard, wet, and flopping.  She downed her drink in one long gulp, and attacked her pancakes  like a woman on a mission.  My head was spinning, and my mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish “Wha…ah…wah..?”  It took me a second to realize that Mitch had disappeared.

I didn’t have much time to wonder where he’d gotten to.  A hot, wet mouth enveloped my straining cock, and I sighed aloud.  The girls giggled delightedly.

Ok, so if it was weird having my dick sucked by a dude, my dick was still being sucked, and the whole situation was over the top weird anyway, so I was slightly surprised to discover it didn’t bother me in the least.  Mitch had a very different technique from Kira.  He kept his mouth on my dick and bobbed up and down, squeezing the base of my cock, cupping my balls with his other hand.  It felt so good I caught myself bucking back against his mouth.  His cheeks were scratchy against my inner thigh.  Kira reached over and squeezed my hand.

Just as we were starting to get into a really good rhythm with each other, Mitch abandoned my cock, leaving me humping against air.  He popped up, and Faye took his place under the table.

Her method was much more sensual.  She licked languidly up and down the quivering, swollen length of my cock, lingering around the pee hole before tracing the vein down the underside and carefully taking my balls one by one into her mouth.  She licked hypnotically up and down my cock, up and down and around and around.  I couldn’t help myself; I reached down under the table as discreetly as possible, and cupped her large warm breast.  It felt nice in my hand, soft and firm.  I could feel the nipple stiffen under her shirt.  How long had it been since I’d touched a real live breast?

And then Faye swallowed me.  I felt my cock slip all the way down her throat, felt her muscles caressing me, felt her nose pressed up against my pubes, her straining lips mashed around the base of my cock.  I moaned out loud.  She lifted her head off me, and came up from beneath the table, smiling and coughing.  Kira, whose plate was now clean and empty, ducked back under.

Her mouth was still warm and sticky from the real maple syrup.  Down under the table, she was working with a renewed sense of purpose.  She had captured the head of my cock inside her mouth and was sucking hard, working her tongue all over the underside of my head, while one hand jerked me off hard and fast.  I surrendered to the pleasure, throwing my head back and humping back against her mouth in time with her pumping.  I didn’t care who knew, who could see.  It just felt too good, and I just wanted to come in her mouth.

Perversely, my body was having a hard time letting go.  Maybe it had just been teased too much for too long: even though I was balanced on the razors’ edge, even though I desperately wanted to, and Kira was clearly trying to make me, I couldn’t quite come.  It was exquisitely frustrating, sweet torture.

Between my legs, she gurgled and choked, switching hands for a better grip.  I spread my knees wide apart, giving her room to work.  Mitch and Faye were staring openly now, totally rapt.

I looked up and realized that the entire staff of the café was lined up over at the bar, watching us: both of the waitresses, the hostess, the cooks, the Mexican dishwasher; they were all intently following the action like a key soccer match.

While her mouth kept up the intensity on the head of my cock, and one hand kept pumping me hard and fast, Kira slid her free hand under my naked butt.  Her fingers probed in between my cheeks, searching, searching until they found what they were looking for.  Her slender finger penetrated my tight asshole, piercing and stretching me, burrowing deeper and deeper up my ass.

“I’M COMING!” I blurted out, “OH SHIT, I’M COMING!!  OH! Oh, Oh… Oh… Ah…Ahhhhh”

The rush of pleasure was so intense, I had never had an orgasm that strong before.  It started in my toes and flooded through me, all the way up through my ears.  My entire body twitched and shook as my cock pumped into Kira’s hungry mouth.  She stayed with me the whole way, and then some, drinking me until there was nothing left to drink.  I felt like I must have squirted about a gallon of come into her, and she took it all, every last drop.  It was the most incredible thing I had ever felt.

Finally I was done, slumping limply in my seat.  Kira let my soft penis slip out of her mouth, and gently extracted her finger from my anus.  She came up from beneath the table, her copper hair a wild case of bed-head.

“Happy Birthday!” she said.

The café staff gave us a long and exuberant round of applause.  I would have died of self-consciousness at that moment, but I was simply to happy to care very much.  I slurped my Bloody Mary and devoured my French toast, which was by now stone cold.

When my plate was empty, our waitress came back to the table.  “Ees there anything else I can get you today?” she asked.

“No thanks,” I said, “Just the check please.”

“Ees your birthday today, non?  There ees no charge.  Your breakfast ees on zee house.”

We thanked her profusely and left a big tip.  I pulled my drawers and my pants up over my wet and tired junk, and we all got up to go.  As we were walking to the door, the waitress ran up to me, gave me a hug, said “Happy Birthday”, and slipped a piece of paper into my jacket pocket.

Mitch and Faye headed off together, on business of their own.  Kira walked over to the train with me.

“I hope that wasn’t too weird?” she asked.

“No!  That was awesome… best birthday present ever!  I had no idea…”

“So then I’ll see you at work on Monday?” she said, “Unless you felt like hanging out or anything tomorrow?”

“Sure!” I said, “I don’t have any plans.  I’d love to hang out!”

“Ok!” her eyes flashed happily.  She gave me a big smile, hugged me quick and tight, and then she was gone, disappearing away into the sea of people on the crowded sidewalk.  She had a cute little butt in those green pants, and it twitched when she walked.

I felt like I was glowing.

Down in the train, I fished out the slip of paper the waitress had slipped into my pocket.  I had forgotten all about it, rediscovered it when I was searching for my Metrocard.

It was a piece of register paper with a name written on it: ‘Marie’, and a phone number. ‘Call me’ it said, and it was punctuated with a little smiley face.

Maybe I would.

END

Comments (7)

The Road to Temptation

December 9, 2009 at 7:29 pm · Filed under erotica ·Tagged , , , ,

1. Maureen

I had a date with Sam that evening, so I cut out of work a little early and hurried home to shower and change.

The house was quiet.  I wasn’t sure whether or not my daughter Alisha was home.  She might be upstairs in her room working on homework; she might be at the library; or she might be over at our neighbor and her friend Kira’s place.  I’d occasionally wondered if she and Kira weren’t fooling around, doing some experimentation on their own, but quite frankly I figured it wasn’t any of my business if they were.

I dropped my bag and peeled off my work shoes and made tracks for the upstairs bathroom.  I was all tingly with anticipation: it was a pretty safe bet that I was going to get laid tonight.  I was debating the merits of a pre-dinner masturbation session, just to take the edge of my horniness.

Sam and I hadn’t been dating very long: he was a carpenter and part-time sculptor who had done some work on the house a few weeks before.  There had been an immediate physical attraction between us, and after I paid him for his work (good quality work, and a very reasonable rate) he asked me out.  I only hesitated a second before agreeing to a date with him.  It turned out that he was smart and sweet as well as being a hunk.  He was the sweetest guy I’d been with in fact since… well, since I’d been single.  And, as I’d discovered on our second date, he was hung like a… well, for a carpenter he had one VERY nice tool.  This night was to be our third date, and I was looking forward to finding out exactly what that tool could do.

I noticed a light on in the study as I headed for the stairs, and I paused at the door, which was slightly ajar.  It was dark in there, but the room was lit with the blue-tinged light from the computer monitor.  The computer was turned off when I had left for work that morning.  I stuck my head in through the door to see what was up.

It was Alisha.  She was sitting in the darkened room in front of the computer wearing a baggy black sweatshirt and nothing else.  She had her feet up on the desk and her panties were dangling from one ankle.

On the screen, a girl with jet black hair, big boobs, and a lot of tattoos was getting vigorously fucked by a skinny asian guy with a really big dick.  Her pussy was shaved clean, she didn’t have any hair at all down there and Oh My Goodness! His dick wasn’t even in her pussy– he was fucking her up the ass!

There were moans and groans from the couple on the screen coming quietly out of the computer speakers, but over that I could clearly here the squishing noises of Alisha’s fingers busy at work between her legs.

“Eeep!” I squeaked.  Yes, I squeaked.  “Alisha, what ARE you doing?”

Ok, so that was stupid.  It was really obvious what she was doing.  And it’s not like I have any room to be shocked about pornography: when I was her age I was wanking off to Penthouse and Hustler magazines that I stole out of my dad’s closet.  I’d vowed to be more open about sex with Alisha than my parents had been with me, and I even kept books of erotica and nude pictures around the house.  But I didn’t know much about internet porn, and I didn’t want my computer to get infected with viruses and spyware, or even worse have my credit card hacked or my identity stolen.

Alisha spun around in her chair, trying to yank up her panties and shut down what was happening on the computer all in one motion.  She did pretty well, all things considered.  I felt kind of bad for having interrupted her; I should have quietly let her finish what she’d been doing, and had a little talk with her about appropriate computer use at another time.

“Oh Mom!  I was just… I mean, I just wanted to see how it works, you know, when people do it…” she trailed off.

I thought Alisha and I had a pretty good relationship going on, I thought we communicated pretty well.  I had long ago explained the mechanical and biological aspects of sex, and that sex and masturbation were a natural part of life.  I had told her (and I meant it) that she could come to me with any questions.  But I could certainly understand wanting a better ‘visual frame of reference’.  I just didn’t want her to get my computer all infected.  I blurted it out before I had even thought it through.

“I’ll probably be bringing Sam home after our date tonight.  If you want, you could watch us do it.”

I cringed the instant I said it.  Gawd, watch your mother fuck?  How totally uncool!  Alisha’s eyes however opened wide.  “Are you serious?”

“Sure,” in for a dollar, in for a dime.  “Why not?”

“You’d let me do that?  In the room with you guys and everything?”

I guess I’m naturally a bit of an exhibitionist.  I’d had sex in my dorm room once when I knew for a fact that my roommate was awake in her bunk; and in my post college New York City days, I would sometimes masturbate on my bed with the lights on and the curtains wide open just for kicks.  I used to entertain fantasies of being a stripper, or even a porn star.  All that had died off during the years I was married, but since I’d been single, my fantasy life had been making a comeback.  Sam and I, in our flirtations, had dropped big fat hints that we both wanted to experiment and try a little kinkiness.  So while I had initially pictured a peephole, or hiding a video camera or something, I went with Alisha’s interpretation.

“Sure, as long as Sam’s ok with it.”

Alisha jumped up and gave me a big hug.  “Oh mom, you’re the coolest ever!  Thank you!”

“I’ll let you know later tonight,” I said, hugging her back.  “And no more internet porn.  I don’t want to get any viruses on my computer!”  I regretted it the moment I said it: if there’s one sure way to get a teenage girl to do something, it’s to forbid it.

2. Alisha

‘I just wanted to see how it works’??  I couldn’t believe how lame I’d sounded.  But what was I supposed to say?  I mean, it was pretty obvious what I’d been doing…

I’d come home from school all horny, and Kira wasn’t around and I was pretty sure she was on the rag anyway, and my mom doesn’t usually get home ‘til after six, so I’d gone onto her computer and fired up some porn and let my fingers do the walking.  I couldn’t believe she’d walked in on me; not that she has anything against masturbation, and I thought she might know about me and Kira anyway; but she had specifically told me not to look at porn on her computer.  Oops.

And then she’d offered to let me sit in on her and Sam!  I swear, even though she drives me crazy sometimes, my mom is the best.  Sam was this really cute older guy she’d just started dating, and he was by far the nicest of all the guys she’d gone out with since the divorce.  I’d tried (unsuccessfully) to flirt with him when he was working on the house.

I had to finish what I’d been doing.  I was WAY too far gone for that.  So when I heard the shower running, I crept back into the study, loaded up the video I’d been watching, and brought myself to a really quick, but really intense orgasm.  Only this time, when I came, the goth girl getting butt-fucked was my mom, and the asian dude fucking her was Sam.

I cleared the browser history, washed my hands, and went up to my bedroom and made a serious effort to do some homework.

Mom came by before she left and kissed me on the forehead.

“Have fun!” I told her, “Don’t forget!”

“I’ll ask him” she said, “Be good.”

“Be good yourself!” I said, “Don’t stay out too late…”

3. Maureen

Dinner was fun.  Sam and I had a really good chemistry together, and there was this delicious sexual tension between us, the tension of two people who are attracted to each other, like each other, think they’re probably going to sleep together later on, but don’t really know each other that well yet.  We laughed, we flirted, we ate and had a few drinks, and my panties stayed moist the entire evening.  Especially when I thought about asking him the big Alisha question later on.

After dinner, after the last drinks were drained, in the parking lot of the restaurant, we made out like a pair of horny teens on the back bumper of his pickup truck.  When we’d gotten to a point where we really couldn’t go any further without getting a room (his erection was making a delicious tent in the front of his jeans, and one of my boobs had somehow fallen out of my bra), there was the obligatory awkward silence, followed closely by a volley of giggling.

“Why don’t you take me back to my place?” I finally managed to gasp.

While Sam drove, I found myself totally unable to keep my hands off his hard-on.  At least I was a good girl, and confined myself to playing with it through the denim of his pants.  I certainly didn’t hear him complaining.  As we got closer and closer to my house though, I got more and more nervous about what I’d promised Alisha, and what I was going to ask Sam.

I blurted out the question at the last stoplight before our block.  As we waited for the light to turn, Sam looked at me funny.

“Alisha?  You mean your daughter?”

“Yeah,” I said.  I explained how I’d walked in on her masturbating that afternoon.

“Ok,” he said, “That sounds cool to me.”

4. Alisha

They got home around ten-thirty, giggling like, well, like a couple teenagers.  I was in my room, where I had honestly been trying to do homework, but I also hadn’t been able to keep my hands off myself.  I had borrowed one of Mom’s erotica books, but I also hadn’t wanted to get overexcited before the main event.

I heard them galumph up the stairs, and quickly pulled up my pajama bottoms.  A moment later, Mom tapped on my door.  When I opened it, she was grinning wickedly.  She gave me a big ‘thumbs up’, and I followed them into Mom’s bedroom.  They tumbled onto her bed, hands all over each other’s bodies.  I sat down on the chair next to Mom’s dresser, where I had a prime view of the all the action.

5. Maureen

Alisha followed us into the bedroom.  I felt positively high: not only was I about to get some ACTION, but I was going to do it with an AUDIENCE!  Sam and I tumbled onto the bed; ‘Lish pulled up the chair next to my dresser.

Whatever Sam had been holding back, he let go of.  He landed on top of me on the bed, kissing me hard and desperately, letting his big strong hands travel all over my body.  I kissed him back, groping him like a thing in lust.  The excitement of being in bed with a hot guy was amplified by the excitement of being watched.

Sam stopped kissing me long enough to pull my sweater up over my head.  I obliged him by unsnapping my bra and tossing it aside.  Sam began kissing and sucking my already quite erect nipples while he fumbled with the clasp of my pants.  I glanced over at Alisha.  Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly open; she was totally absorbed in the scene.  We made eye contact, and I grinned happily at her.  She smiled shyly back.

Then Sam pushed me onto my back on the bed, temporarily abandoning my boobs so that he could concentrate on getting my pants off.  With both hands freed up, he successfully unbuttoned them, and I lifted my ass off the bed.  With one quick motion, he tugged my pants off.

“God, you look gorgeous!” he said.  He paused a moment and pulled off his own t-shirt and then his jeans and undies.  His big dick flopped out, and I thought I heard a sharp intake of breath from where Alisha was sitting.  I admired his cock.  It was a thing of beauty; not insanely long, but My God it was thick, capped with a perfect mushroom-shaped head, circumcised, with nice compact balls and a neatly trimmed triangular patch of reddish pubic hair.  It was the first time I had had a chance to have a good look at it: our last make-out session had taken place in the dark and cramped cab of his pickup truck.  I lusted to have that thing inside me.  I couldn’t wait to taste it.

He very obligingly got down on his knees, and I wasted no time wrapping my mouth around his erection.  I was not disappointed.  He was red hot, and tasted delicious, all sexy and clean and male.  I let him slide in and out of my mouth, swirling my tongue all over his velvety-hard flesh, grabbing onto his firm buttocks and trying to get the whole thing inside my mouth, then letting it slide out until just the head rested on my tongue.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come if you keep that up!” He pushed me back down on the bed, his rock-hard juicy wet penis bobbing delightfully with every movement.  I slipped my fingers under the waistband of my lacy blue panties and slipped them off.  God, I couldn’t believe how fucking wet I was down there!

Sam took hold of my legs and dragged me around, turning me on the bed so that my feet were facing Alisha.  He nudged my thighs apart, and taking the hint, I spread my legs wide apart for him.  Looking down my body, I could see my horny little clitoris straining up from my pussy.  Alisha, who had scooted her chair closer to the side of the bed, must have gotten an eyeful!  Sam clambered down off the bed, got on his knees, and dove right in, licking and slurping my pussy with relish.  He obviously enjoyed eating me out very much, and he was very very good at it!  My ex-husband used to only grudgingly do that, and as a result I had never enjoyed it very much.  Now Sam had what felt like two or three fingers inside me, and his tongue had found my hyper-excited clit, and I realized that I was moaning like a porn star, and in fact very close to having a massive orgasm.

He concentrated on my clit, flicking me rhythmically with his tongue.  I was pinching and twisting my own nipples, thrusting my pelvis into his face.  His fingers were deep, deep inside my cunt, and then I felt another finger very gently tickling my asshole, which was terra incognita for me, and suddenly I was coming.  I heard myself screaming, bucking and writhing on the bed, grinding my cunt onto Sam’s face.  I had never ever come that hard before in my entire life.

Sam came up for air, beaming with a grin that lit up the entire room, and sporting an erection that was, if anything, even fatter than when it had been in my mouth.  “Grab a condom,” I said, “They’re on the bedside table.”

I watched, enthralled, as he rolled the latex sleeve down his cock.  “I don’t think I’m going to last very long,” he said, “I’m too excited.”

That didn’t concern me one bit.  I was fingering my pussy idly, just watching him.  “How do you want to do it?” I asked.

“Doggy-style?”

“That sounds fantastic!” I said, rolling over and getting on all fours.  My wetness was all over the inside of my thighs.  I felt deliciously exposed like that.  As Sam came up behind me, I glanced over at Alisha.  She was biting down hard on her lower lip.  One hand was up inside her pajama tops, toying with a nipple.  Her pajama bottoms were crumpled up around her ankles, and her other hand was busily drawing little circles in her crotch.  It seemed like she was in a world of her own.

Sam was tormenting my cunt, rubbing the head of his dick up and down my sopping wet slit.  At that moment, all I wanted was to have him inside me.  Finally, after what seemed like ages, he did what I needed him to, entering my pussy in one decisive stroke.

It felt so good to have that big fat cock up my pussy!  It had been ages, ages since I had last been laid, and I was enjoying every millimeter of it.  His dick made sexy squooshing sounds as it slid in and out of my well-lubricated hole, and he was grasping fiercely onto my butt cheeks.  I became suddenly aware that I was about to come again.  I reached between my legs and started diddling my engorged clit.

“Oh fuck, Maureen, I’m going to fucking come!”

“Yes Sam, yes yes yes!”

He was slapping my ass hard and pounding my pussy and crying out loud and I knew he was coming inside me even as my own orgasm washed over me like a breaking wave.  He kept thrusting all the way through it, and it seemed to go on and on.  Finally he collapsed sweatily on top of me, panting and kissing the back of my neck.

“That was awesome!” I said.

“Shh…” He nodded over at Alisha, who had kicked off her pajama bottoms and had her feet up on the seat of the chair.  Her eyes were shut tight and her hand was a blur on her clit, and I could see her little pussy, labia moist and pouting open like a blooming flower.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah!” she came in a series of little gasps.

Sam’s much reduced penis slid gently out of me, and he disposed of the used-up condom.  We lay on the bed, side by side, glowing, watching Alisha recover from her orgasm.

With just a touch of embarrassment, she pulled her p.j. bottoms back on.  “Thank you guys so much, that was really amazing!  Can I watch you guys again sometime?”

“Sure,” Sam said, squeezing my boob, “It was really hot having you watching.  I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

It had gotten late on us.  Alisha went back to her own room, and Sam very sweetly fell asleep next to me.  I hadn’t really expected him to spend the night, but it was nice that he did.  I quietly masturbated, replaying the events of the evening in my mind over and over.

6. Sam

Weird and freaky?  Well, yeah, if you want to put it that way.  But coming from Maureen, in the front seat of my pickup, all nonchalant and matter-of-fact, it hadn’t sounded weird at all.  As a matter of fact it sounded pretty hot.  And I kind of liked the idea of someone watching.  Especially if that someone was a saucy teenage girl.  Even if that teenage girl happened to be my girlfriend’s daughter.

And when I saw Alisha come out of her bedroom, I almost came in my pants!  She was this absolutely cute cherubic little thing, with curly golden hair, a little up-turned nose, and jiggley tits that were well on their way to being as big as her mother’s.

I was super turned on about Maureen anyway.  She was the coolest, smartest, funniest, sexiest chick I had met in a very long time.  And once we got into the bedroom and things got hot and busy, I almost forgot about young Alisha’s voyeuristic presence.  Almost.

I hadn’t really intended to spend the night.   I just felt so drowsy and satisfied after the sex, and it was so warm and comfortable in Maureen’s arms… It had been, well, a long time since I had had sex; and it had been a really really long time since I had sex that good with someone I actually liked.

So I woke up early the next morning in a strange bed, with a full bladder and some morning wood.  Maureen was still asleep, breathing softly and rhythmically.  I got out of bed, careful not to wake her, and retrieved my briefs from where they had been tossed aside during the previous evening’s frenetic activities.

I padded quietly down the hall and found the bathroom.  The cool morning air helped my cock shrink a little, and I was able to relieve my bladder.  I washed up, wondered idly if Maureen had a spare toothbrush, and headed back to the bedroom.  I had to be at a gig fairly early, and I hoped I could grab a shower and at least have a few moments to be with Maureen before I had to leave…

Those were the thoughts going through my head as I opened the bathroom door into the hall and found myself face to face with Alisha, who was wearing a naughty little smile and the same unicorn-and-princess pajamas she’d had on the night before.

Before I could say anything, she pressed her finger to her lip in a ‘Shhh’ motion, and ushered me back into the bathroom.  I took two surprised steps backward, and she stepped forward and closed the bathroom door after herself.

Alisha ‘Shushed’ me again.  Her smile had gotten bigger.  That wasn’t the only thing that had gotten bigger.  Despite my better judgment, my dick had responded right away to the naughty little pixie in the white cotton jammies.  It had never gotten very soft; now it was making its presence obvious, peeking disrespectfully out the waistband of my underpants.

Alisha grinned wide and tugged down my shorts.  My cock flopped out, like a puppy eager to play.  Alisha got down on her knees, face to face with my dick.  She smiled happily up at me, stuck out her tongue, and traced the underside of my penis, all the way from my balls to the purple head that was already leaking pre-come.  When her tongue tickled my pee-hole, I shivered, and let out an involuntary sigh.  I reached down and stroked her curly blonde hair, which was as soft as a kitten’s belly.

My cock was harder than hard.  Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Alisha unbuttoned her pajama tops, giving me my first glimpse of her tits.  Lord have mercy!  They were beautiful!  They were large and firm, soft and pale and slightly freckled, and seemingly impervious to the laws of gravity, with pretty pink nipples that pointed perkily upward.

Her breasts swinging erotically with every movement, Alisha proceeded to swallow my cock whole.  Or at least, she tried her damnedest.  She could only get about half the length inside her mouth.  She started bobbing up and down on me, slurping happily away.  Her hands cupped my ass cheeks and fondled my thighs and ball sac.  I don’t think she had much –if any– experience giving blowjobs.  It felt really good, amazing even, but it wasn’t going anywhere.  She couldn’t get a rhythm going, wasn’t really using her hands in conjunction with her tongue.  She wasn’t going to be able to make me come.

The last thing I needed now was for Maureen to come tapping on the door.  I gently pushed Alisha off me, and wrapped my own hand around my shaft.  She smiled understanding and nodded eagerly.  I started lustily jerking off.  She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue invitingly.  Her tits were all flushed, her nipples erect.  She had my butt clasped in both little hands, and one finger started probing between my cheeks, probing, pressing…

“Oh, fuuuuck!” I choked out, trying not to shout out loud as I came.  I squirted gobs of pearly white come right onto her outstretched tongue.  She swallowed, and more landed on her neck and tits.  When I was done squirting, she licked up the sticky stuff that was leaking out of my dick until there was none left.

“Thanks!” Alisha said brightly, as she buttoned up her p.j.s  “I have to get dressed for school now.  Don’t follow me right out, ok?”  And then she was gone, leaving me standing alone in a daze in the bathroom with my underpants around my ankles.

7.  Maureen

Sam very sweetly woke me up with a kiss and a hot cup of coffee.  He was already dressed, and running late.  He kissed me again on the lips, a lingering, sexy kind of kiss and looked at me seriously with those big blue eyes.  “Can I we get together again soon?”

Oh yes, very soon.  The sooner the better, as far as I was concerned.

I called him up from my desk at lunch.  He answered on his cell phone.

“Where are you right now?”

“In my truck, taking a lunch break, eating a tuna sandwich.”

“Mmm, yummy!  Last night was fantastic…”

“Yeah, it was…”

“Sam, you wanna guess what I’m doing right now?”

As a matter of fact, I had just pulled my panties down, and my free hand was busy under my skirt, tracing up and down my moist slit.

“God Maureen, you’re making me hard just talking about it…”

“Why don’t you get your dick out and play along?  No-one will know…”

“Listen, Maureen, we need to talk.”

Oh God.  That stopped me up short.  He wasn’t really going to dump me was he?  I thought he was such a nice guy, I thought we had such a cool thing going on.

He wasn’t dumping me.  Stammering, embarrassed, he told me what had happened to him that morning in the bathroom with my daughter.

At first I was more than a little miffed.  Not at poor Sam, bless his heart.  I was mad at Alisha, that little tramp… get a boyfriend of your own to molest!  But then, I felt bad for getting mad.  I had pretty much led her straight down the road to temptation after all.

And then I started picturing the scene in my head: my little Alisha on her knees on the bathroom floor, her mouth full of dick, her boobs swaying in the breeze, my man Sam’s big strong hands all tangled up in her curly golden hair…  I was even wetter than I had been before!

“Are you pissed at me?”  I realized that Sam was still on the phone, and that I had left him waiting in silence for a very long moment since he had made his heartfelt confession.

“I’m not pissed!” I said, “Just promise me one thing, ok?”

“Sure,” Sam said, “Anything.”

“Promise me you won’t do anything sexual with Alisha again–”

“I promise!”

“–unless I’m there with you.  Ok?”

“um… ok!”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“Just thinking about this stuff makes my pussy really wet.”  It was true.  I tend to get ridiculously wet when I am aroused.  I have soaked all the way through a pair of jeans before.  What with all the nasty thoughts in my head, and the fingers that just would not stay still, I was making a big sticky puddle on my swivel chair.  “You should take your dick out.”

“It already is.” Sam confessed.

“Is it hard?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s masturbate together.  I want to hear you come.”

“ok.”

There was near silence on the phone line as we touched ourselves.  I could hear Sam’s heavy breathing, the rustle of his movements.  My clit was poking straight out, my juices were flowing.  I imagined him in his pickup truck, parked in some construction site, stroking his beautiful cock.  It was so hot!  My skirt was up around my waist, my legs were spread wide.  Anyone could (theoretically at least) walk into my office at any time.  The danger just added to my excitement.  I couldn’t get that picture of my naughty daughter out of my head either.

“Sam, you know what I’m picturing right now?”

“What?”  His voice was hoarse.

“I’m picturing you fucking Alisha.  I’m picturing you sliding your big dick into her pretty little virgin pussy…”

“Is she a virgin?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she is.”

“Aw, fuck Maureen, I’m gonna come!”

And come he did, with a strangled, drawn-out grunt that pushed me over the edge, triggering my own gasping orgasm.  I would have to put a towel or something down on my seat, or I’d get joy juice all over my skirt.

“Sam,” I said when we could both talk again, “Would you like to go out for dinner tonight?”

8. Alisha

I had been thinking seriously of going over to Kira’s house and jumping her bones, period or no period.  It had been an endlessly frustrating day at school, with Sam’s come drying on my breasts, and me so worked up I couldn’t concentrate on anything.  The hours absolutely crawled by!  I amused myself by kind-of-masturbating in class, squeezing my legs together to stimulate my puss.  It kind of worked– it kept me all aroused and juicy; but it did nothing to relieve the sexual tension.

I called Kira’s cell phone as soon as I got home, but she didn’t pick up.  I fired up the computer: if I couldn’t get off with another real live human being, I could at least whack off to some hot nasty porno.  Before I had gotten very far though, I heard Mom’s car pull into the drive.  Damn!  Home early twice in a row!  I pulled up my panties and buttoned my pants and closed the naughty web site, and managed to look pretty damn studious when she walked into the study.

I don’t know how she knew, but she knew.  I braced myself for her to be furious with me, and it took me a little while to figure out that she wasn’t.  She started off by telling me that she was wrong the other day, to tell me not to look at porn on the computer.  She said that she trusted my judgment, and that I could look at whatever I wanted online, as long as I didn’t get the computer infected.  That was kind of a relief; if I had gotten caught once, it was a pretty safe bet I’d get caught again.  Mom even asked me to show her some places to get hot porn.

At that point I breathed a secret sigh of relief: I wasn’t about to get busted for what I’d done that morning.  And then she started asking me about blowjobs, whether I’d given a lot of them (I hadn’t) and whether I liked giving them (I did!).  I was feeling really nervous at this point because I was pretty sure I was about to have to fess up to sucking her boyfriends’ cock that morning in the bathroom.

Mom sat down next to me and put her hand on my knee.  “Would you like to have sex with Sam?  While I watched?”

Oh My God, that certainly wasn’t what I was expecting to hear.  It actually knocked me speechless for a few moments.

“Mom,” I stammered, “You know I’m a virgin, right?”  Well, technically a virgin… Kira had had several fingers and a small vibrator up my pussy already.

“Well, yes, I guess I kind of figured you were…”

“I just… I always pictured having sex for the first time with a guy I was really in love with” It sounded kind of silly to me, when I heard myself say it, but it was true.  I guess I was kind of a romantic.

“I totally understand” Mom said.

There was kind of an awkward pause.  “I’d let him do me up the butt though.”

“You’d like that?”  Mom sounded shocked, mildly horrified.

“Oh Yeah.”  Sometimes when she went down on me, Kira would tickle my asshole with one finger, and what I really wanted, and hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask for yet, was for her to stick two or three fingers (or her vibrator) up there, and fuck me that way.  That was in fact, my most recent favorite topic of masturbation.

9.  Maureen

I had, of course, seen anal sex done in porn, and I have to admit that I found it hot.  I’d never imagined though, that the women actually got any pleasure out of the act: I’d though it was for a strictly male audience.  I looked at Alisha, looking at me, blushing, with big blue pleading eyes, and then I imagined her on my bed, and Sam impaling her little ass with his big cock.

“Sure,” I said, and gave her knee a little squeeze, “I bet he’ll be thrilled!”

10. Sam

Dinner was awesome, though we both had a hard time eating.  Maureen kept flirting with me, rubbing my thigh with her foot, asking me questions about my experience with Alisha in the bathroom: “Did I like her tits?”  “How much of you could she get in her mouth?”  “Doesn’t she have a nice ass?”

At one point, Maureen excused herself to the bathroom.  When she came back to the table, she slipped me her wadded-up red panties.  The crotch was damp.  I ‘accidentally’ dropped a fork, and dived under the table to retrieve it.  Maureen had her skirt piled up on her lap, and I stuck my head between her thighs and gave her juicy pussy a big slurp before resurfacing.  We were right on the verge of making a complete scene out of ourselves right there in the restaurant.  Fortunately about that time we finished out dinner, refused the waiter’s offer of coffee, paid the bill, and walked out to my truck.  I was pretty sure that everyone in the place was staring at the flagpole boner sticking out of the crotch of my pants.

In the truck, as we drove over to her house, Maureen fished my cock out and laid her head on my lap.  While I tried to concentrate on not getting us killed, she idly licked, kissed, fondled and occasionally swallowed my member.  It was about the most pleasurable –and distracting—drive I could remember.

“Have you ever had anal sex?” she asked me as we pulled into her driveway.

“Never have,” I answered honestly as I tucked my aching hard dick back into my jeans.  “It’s something I always wanted to try at least once, but I’ve never had the chance.”

Christ!  Just when I thought my dick couldn’t get any harder!

We walked in the front door, and there was Alisha, waiting for us, in her blue jeans and tank top.

Maureen gave her a big hug and a kiss on the forehead.  “You want to show me Honey?  Show me how you did it this morning.”

Alisha looked from her mom to me and blushed.  She actually blushed, it was painfully cute!  But then she got down on her knees in front of me, and I realized this was for real.

“Go ahead” Maureen said, and I unzipped my pants.  Alisha clumsily fished my dick out.  It was incredibly hard.  I think, if I hadn’t already come twice that day, that I would have shot off into her mouth the instant that she licked the underside of my cock with her soft little tongue.  As it was, I moaned out loud, and she took her cue to swallow my dick head.

“Take off your shirt!”  Maureen had flopped down on the couch to watch.  Alisha released my dick just long enough to pull her t-shirt up over her head and to reach behind and unsnap her bra.  Then she went right back to work.  Her boobs were just as big and perky and beautiful as I remembered, and they jiggled nicely as she bobbed up and down.  She was no longer trying to swallow the whole thing: this time she kept her mouth on the head, and was jerking off the shaft.  If she kept that up, I was going to come right in her mouth.

“God that’s hot!” Maureen had her skirt hiked up and her legs apart, and was fingering her snatch.  “Why don’t we all go upstairs to the bedroom?”

I took the opportunity to lose my pants, then Maureen and I followed Alisha up the stairs.  “Doesn’t she have a sexy ass?” Maureen commented to me on the way up.  Alisha turned around and grinned at us.

We all three piled onto Maureen’s bed.  Maureen’s skirt was already on the floor, and she stripped her top off, setting her gorgeous rack free.  Her nipples were pink and erect.

“I hope my tits look like yours when I’m grown up!” Alisha said.

“I bet I know what you’d like to do,” Maureen said to me as I peeled the vestiges of my clothes off.  Alisha lounged topless on the bed next to her mother, grinning and watching intently.  “I bet you’d like to lick her pussy!”

That wasn’t ALL I wanted to do to her, but she was absolutely right.  I did want to lick Alisha’s pussy.

Alisha unsnapped her jeans and allowed me to tug them off.  She was wearing green and white panties with roses printed on them.  I could see the crease of her pussy, and I thought I could detect a little damp spot in the crotch.

“Go ahead” Maureen said.  Alisha wiggled out of her underwear.  Her pussy had a neat little triangle of soft golden hair above it.  He shy little clitoris was just peeking out, and her petite little labia were pursed as if for a kiss.  She was very wet.

“She’s a virgin,” Maureen said, and I thought ‘this is as far as it goes: her mom would never let me fuck her if she’s a virgin.’   Alisha nodded seriously.  “Go ahead and lick her pussy.  When was the last time you got to lick a virgin pussy?”

I dove right in.  I tried to tease, to lick all around and be coy, but Alisha was having none of that.  “Lick my clit!” she moaned, grabbing me by the hair and directing me.  My tongue found her little button, and she reacted violently, tugging at my hair, grinding herself onto my face.

I had her small, round ass cupped in both hands, lifting her pussy into my face like it was a chalice.  She was delicious, and my face was covered in her slick juices.  She was also making a ton of noise, groaning and gasping and urging me on.  I was slurping her pussy, dragging my tongue up her slit and lavishing her clit.

I had an ass cheek in each hand, and when one finger ‘accidentally’ brushed against her tiny puckered rosebud, I thought I detected a change in the pitch of her moans.  Experimentally, I pressed just a little harder against her asshole, while I continued to lick.

“Oh fuck YES!  I’m going to come!”  I let my finger tip slip up into her anus, and licked her clit for all I was worth.  Her body shook as she came and came all over my face.

“Holy Shit that was hot!”  Maureen had two fingers up her pussy, and her clit was bright pink.  Alisha lay on her back, gasping.  My dick was still quite hard, and I was leaking a gossamer strand of sticky pre-come.

“Tell Sam what you want,” Maureen said.

“Would you like to fuck me in the ass?” Alisha asked quietly.  “It’d be my first time.”

10. Maureen

She looked so sexy, lying there naked on my bed, still flushed and sweaty from her orgasm.  I felt a surge of pride for my sexy little vixen.

When she told Sam what she wanted, I thought he might pop off right then.  His erect dick jerked and bobbed even as he stammered that he’d be happy to oblige if that was what she really wanted.

Oh, she wanted it alright!  Quick as a little salamander, she was on her hands and knees on my bed, her ass thrust up in the air like a cat in heat, her beautiful boobies hanging down swaying, her golden curls fallen all over her face.

I took the opportunity to reach over to the nightstand and open up the drawer.  I grabbed Blackie, my realistically shaped black silicone vibrator, and a tube of lube which I tossed over to Sam.

“Make it really slippery” I instructed him.  I realized that I had been masturbating shamelessly in front of my daughter: my fingers were all juicy and sticky.  Alisha had one hand busy between her legs.  I loved how sexy she looked, all naked and turned on.  I wondered if I had been that sexy when I was her age: at the time I had just felt awkward.

I watched greedily as Sam greased up his pole.  I had never yet seen his cock this hard.  Covered in slippery lube, it looked extra big and thick and sexy.  I couldn’t believe he was going to put that thing up Alisha’s butt.  I wondered what it would be like for him to do that to me.  I wondered if I might like it.

I twisted the knob on Blackie, and concentrated the buzzing tip on my clit.  Sam was rubbing his dick up and down between Alisha’s heavenly butt cheeks, and she was breathing heavily already and whimpering, “Put it in… put it in… slide it up my ass…”

Sam assumed a look of total concentration as with one hand he guided his engorged dick toward its target.  Alisha grunted, shifting her weight so that her head lay in my lap.  Her pretty mouth hung slightly open, her eyes were half closed.  That finger between her legs was making sexy squooshing noises.  I could feel their combined heat rolling over me.  The vibrations running through my clit were driving me insane.  I could feel Alisha’s breath on my inner thigh.

“Its too tight,” Sam gasped, “its not going to fit.”

“Keep going,” Alisha responded throatily, “keep going.  Just go slow, ok?”

He had both strong hands on her pale ass cheeks, spreading them far apart.  His face was rapt with concentration, his brow furled.  Alisha was panting.  I was going to come in a second.  Somewhat regretfully, I stopped directly stimulating my clit with the vibrator, and slid Blackie up my incredibly wet pussy.  It felt so fucking good to have that humming toy up my cunt!

“Oh Fuck, Yes!”  Alisha breathed.  “Fuck yes, I’m inside!” Sam gasped.

“Fuck that’s sexy!”  Alisha grabbed Blackie out of my hand and started thrusting it in and out of my slippery pussy.  This was way farther than I had intended anything to go, but I was far to turned on to stop it.  And it felt amazingly good!  “Fuck my ass!” she growled back at Sam, “I’m going to come!”

She wasn’t the only one!  Sam’s face was all red and he was biting his lower lip hard.  I was amazed.  He had every inch of that glorious cock up my daughter’s ass.  “Ohh!  Ohhhh!” he was growling, “Ohhhh fuuuuck!”

Alisha came too, shaking and crying, her face all screwed up, her tits shaking, “Ah ah ah ah ah yes!”  Her hand never stopped rubbing her clit, and her other hand was still jerking Blackie in and out, in and out of my hot cunt.  With one hand, I reached under my bottom and stimulated my own anus with a fingertip.  I’d never done that before, and it felt goood.  With my other hand, I strummed my poor over-excited little clit straight into heaving, screaming ecstasy.

When I could think straight again, Sam and Alisha were spooning, her face pressed against my thigh, his thick fingers idly tracing the crack of my vagina.  I realized with a bit of a start that I had one of Alisha’s rosy pink nipples pinched between my thumb and forefinger.  I gave it a playful tweak.

“So, who’s up for another round?”

END

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The View From My Window

June 16, 2009 at 11:00 am · Filed under erotica ·Tagged , , , ,

It had been cold and threatening all day, with heavy gunmetal-grey clouds lurking overhead.  As I was walking home from work it started to snow.  Big wet flakes that melted as soon as they made contact with the pavement.  Soon there was a layer of slush on the sidewalk that soaked right through my canvas sneakers and stockings, chilling my feet straight through to the bone.

I was already feeling blue.  It was November, coming up to Thanksgiving, which meant that it was dark when I left for work in the morning, and it was dark when I went home at night.  My job was boring, I was dirt-poor, and I lived alone in a crappy old ex-industrial apartment five floors up in a really crappy part of Brooklyn.  This wasn’t really what I’d pictured when I’d moved to New York two years ago.

The plan for the evening, such as it was, was to go home, boil up a pot of mac and cheese (which I was by now incredibly sick of), and surf the internet for porn for a couple hours and then to masturbate until my clit was too tender to touch and my eyes wouldn’t stay open.  Pretty much the standard Friday night routine.

At 25, I felt like the oldest living virgin in New York City, and definitely the horniest.  I was constantly annoyed with the body I had inherited from my Japanese mother and my Dutch father. Asian girls are supposed to be waif thin; I was short and round, much like a steamed dumpling with legs.  That was my parents’ nickname for my: Dumpling.  To make matters worse, I wore glasses; annoying thick glasses that I was constantly misplacing.  And I was shy; chronically, painfully shy.

When I was in high school, I couldn’t wait to be in college.  When I was in college, I couldn’t wait to graduate.  And now I was in New York City: patching ATM machine code by day; working on a novel that did not yet have a name by night; and masturbating pretty much all the time in between.

It was only by lucky chance that I noticed at all.  When I got into the dark little apartment, instead of turning on the lights right away, I kicked off my wet shoes and padded across the room in my cold damp socks to turn on the computer. It had been a long, stupid, frustrating day at work, and I had been obnoxiously horny all day.  At my desk, I had been constantly aware of my clitoris inside my panties, feeling all swollen and sensitive.  A couple of times I had reached up inside my shirt and tweaked my nipples, savoring the electric sensation that coursed straight through my body down to my clit.  Delicious torture.  I could have just gone to the ladies room and masturbated right there (and some days that is exactly what I would have done); but today I preferred to wait and do it properly.  And besides, I wanted to look at pictures.  I have been told that females are less visually inclined than males, but frankly I don’t believe a word of it.  Lately I had been on a big kick for Blacks on Blondes, and I really wanted to get myself off while watching some hot black dude with a big dick fuck some cute white chick right up the butt.  I didn’t know the why of it, I just knew it was really hot.

Standing there with cold wet feet in the middle of my dark apartment, waiting for the dreadfully slow computer to finish booting up, I happened to look out the window.

One floor down, in the building across the street, there was an apartment with the lights on, and nothing obstructing the windows.  As I looked out across the way, the most beautiful black guy I had ever seen walked across his bedroom, completely stark naked.

Later on I figured I was lucky that my double-take didn’t send my glasses shooting off my face; I never would have found them in time to appreciate the view.  The guy was probably a little younger than me, most likely in his early twenties; tall and thin as a willow, with compact, well defined muscles, the body of a dancer.  He had very short kinky black hair atop his head, and dark dark chocolate skin, no body fat whatsoever, and not one strand of body hair.  His dick hung, naked and exposed, wiggling in an oddly fetching way as he walked; and where there should have a triangle of pubic hair, there was just smooth brown skin.

I had never actually seen a man naked before.  Not in person, anyway; I’d seen plenty in porn of course. I’m the queen of missed opportunities: I always seemed to turn into a quivering bowl of tongue-tied jelly any time I found myself in the presence of a guy I was in any way attracted to.  Frustrating, yes, but I have learned that there are ways of dealing with frustration.

I stood there, open-mouthed and staring, as he turned around, exposing his perfect taught black ass; bent down, picked up a pair of white boxer shorts, pulled them on, and turned off the light as he walked out of the room.

Well!  This beat internet porn all to hell.  I pulled off my damp clothes and positioned myself on the windowsill (my loft apartment had these huge industrial windows with sills big enough to sit in.  Beautiful, but a real pain to heat in the winter) Vibrator in hand, I masturbated to a quick and explosive orgasm right then and there.  Then, lust temporarily sated, I cooked up a pot of mac and sleaze, and looked at dirty pictures on the net until well after midnight, one hand constantly busy between my thighs, and one eye constantly cocked on the apartment across the way, hoping to catch my beautiful neighbor coming home.

The next day was Saturday, my writing day. I went in to Manhattan, and in a high-end photo store run by orthodox Jews, with shaking hands I spent almost the entire remaining contents of my savings account on a good pair of binoculars.

Through the afternoon I genuinely tried to work on the novel.  Very little actual writing got done however.  As I sat typing at the computer, I realized that fewer and fewer words were actually coming out.  Eventually I just abandoned it and alternated between SimCity and porn.  By late afternoon it was dark outside and darker in my apartment, and as I sat in the pale blue glow of the computer monitor, I kept glancing through the window, checking for signs of life across the street.

As soon as I saw the light click on, I lunged for my new binoculars.  My hands were shaking too much; I had to rest my elbows on the window sill to hold the image steady.  The view was amazing.  I could have read over his shoulder with those glasses.  He was getting undressed; I caught a tantalizing glimpse of his brown cock and balls, and then he turned out the light.

Over the next few days, I became a bit obsessed.  This wasn’t surprising; I was naturally a bit of an obsessive, that was part of what made me a good coder; but it confirmed my belief that I really and truly was a serious pervert.  I waited for him to get up in the morning; I waited for him to come home at night.  I became paranoid that he might see my, sitting in the window sill in the darkened apartment with my binoculars pressed to my eyes.  But that didn’t stop my.  I caught him naked a few times.  I held my breath, trying to keep him centered in the binoculars while he walked around naked in his bedroom.  But mostly, I got bored with sitting there, looking across the street at an empty room, waiting for him to come in.

And then, on Friday night, when I had all but lost hope of seeing anything good, and was starting to seriously regret dropping way more money than I could realistically afford on a pair of binoculars I really didn’t need, I struck gold.

I didn’t even see him come in.  I just happened to glance across the street and noticed that his light was on.  Then I noticed that he was lying naked on his bed, and almost broke my neck tripping over my feet as I grabbed the binoculars and ran over to the window.

It was like being six inches away from him.  I could see every detail.  His cock was rock hard, his balls were drawn in tight as he slowly stroked himself.  It was beautiful.  I could almost see the veins pulsing on his shaft.  The head was the darkest dark purple, and as his hand moved up and down the length of it, I reached inside my own panties and confirmed that I was in fact wet and slippery as an eel. A very wet eel.

I momentarily lost him from my field of vision as he changed position on the bed, nearly panicked and then found him again, kneeling on the bed, rummaging through the drawer of his bedside table.

What a sexy ass!  So tight and smooth and strong.  I imagined running my hands over that ass, pulling it close, opening my mouth to swallow the beautiful black cock on the front end, squeezing those brown cheeks in little pale hands… Damn!  Those panties of mine were just getting in the way, no doubt!

Relieved of those annoying panties (to say nothing of the sweatpants around my ankles that had been threatening to trip my flat on my face), I found him again in the binoculars.  He was on his hands and knees on the bed, that fat juicy cock dangling heavily between his legs.  I could even make out a drop of precome hovering on the end of his dick, threatening to dribble down onto the white sheet.  With one hand I caressed my clitoris, spreading my juices liberally around.  “Oh the things I would do to that cock, if only it were in MY bed.”

And then I saw what he had in his hands.  Wow!  I was shocked enough to stop (at least for a moment) what I was doing downstairs.  He had a dildo in his hands, a big one, bigger than any of my own toys; made of a sparkly blue material molded to look just like a lifelike dick, right down to a truncated pair of balls on the base.  He was carefully coating it with lube from a small clear bottle.

Oh Damn.  Did this mean that my neighbor was gay?  And if so, what did that do to my fantasies about him?  It took only a few moments of consideration to decide that it didn’t matter.  Not really at all.

Across the street, my beautiful neighbor was working hard on impaling himself with the big blue dildo.  I had a prime view of it too.  He was facing directly away from my, his ass thrust up in the air like a cat in heat, his smooth balls and cock dangling down.  I even got a glimpse of his asshole (tiny crinkled little thing, was he really going to shove that big fat toy up there?) before it was obscured by his hands and the dildo.

It took a while for him to get it up inside.  He took it slow, working it very gently in and out, and adding more lube before pushing hard with one hand while the other hand pried his ass apart.  I could almost hear him sigh when, at last, the pink toy slid past his anal opening and disappeared into his lean body.

Meanwhile, I hadn’t been idle.  If at first I was shocked that I found a boy toying himself to be a turn-on, I quickly realized that I was responding to it in a big way.  In fact I was having trouble keeping the binoculars trained on him and my finger on my clit at the same time.  I was kneeling at the windowsill with one hand busy between my legs, an elbow propped up on the sill, my free hand holding the trembling field glasses.

He rolled over onto his back, toes facing my direction.  His dick was grasped tightly in one hand, and the other hand working the dildo gently in and out.  His eyes were shut tight and -fuck me!- his nipples were tiny and dark and pointy –just like little Hershey’s kisses!–  His hand was moving so fast on his dick that it was a blur and at that moment I wanted more than anything to be lying on top of him, kissing him on the mouth at the instant he shot off.

And he did shoot off.  God, it was so much better than any porn, ever!  He arched his back, his toes curled (oh yes they did!) and he squirted gobs and gobs of pearly white boy come all over his smooth dark tummy and chest.

When it was over, when he had milked every last drop from his wilting penis and when he had extracted his dildo and had grabbed a Kleenex to wipe up the mess on his chest (Which would certainly not have gone to waste had I been there!), I finally set down the binoculars, lay down on my back hardwood floor, and got myself off.  I had been right on the edge for so long, it was a cinch to come at last.  I worked my clit and slipped my fingers in and out of my pussy and tickled my asshole, pretending that it was his fingers exploring my body.  The orgasm was so nice I went for a second one right away, replaying the scene I had just watched over and over again in my head.

After I had come no less than three times, I got up off my ass and drank a tall glass of water.  The apartment across the way was dark and still.  I sat down at the computer and managed to get the better part of a chapter written before falling asleep just before two in the morning.

All weekend, and all the next week I was vigilant.  And unlucky.  I barely ever seemed to catch him at home.  I caught him in his underpants a couple of times; that was the extent of my voyeuristic thrills.

That Friday, my luck changed again.  I was sitting by the window, having gotten sick of staring at a blank page on my computer screen and not ready to give up and go for the porn yet.  Across the way, his window was dark.  The sky was inky black.  Heavy clouds had been gathering all day, and snow was in the forecast again.  It was bitterly cold outside.

Without warning, his light flicked on, and he walked into the room.  And he was not alone this time.  There was a pretty blonde girl with him, and she had her arm possessively around his waist.

By the time I had found my binoculars and gotten them to focus, the happy couple was up on the bed making out.  As I watched, Neighbor Guy pulled the Blonde Girl’s sweater up and off.  It wasn’t fair; she was skinny AND she had big tits.

He played with her boobs for a while, and I had to admit that they were a lovely set.  Then she pulled off his shirt, and I got to watch in an aroused state of jealousy while Blonde Girl explored his smooth muscular brown skin.

And then Neighbor Guy was tugging off her jeans, and I caught a quick glimpse of panties, red and lacy, before they were tossed aside and she was flat on her back on his bed with her pale thighs spread wide apart and her nearly shaved pussy fully on display for him.  And for me.

He wasted no time getting his head between my legs and giving that lucky Blonde Girl a thorough tongue lashing.  She certainly seemed to be enjoying it too, kicking her legs humping back toward his face and thrashing around on his bed.

After what I was pretty sure was a supremely massive orgasm on the part of the blonde, Neighbor Boy came up for air. I could actually SEE her wetness on his face.   Blonde Girl got his pants down and his gear out (“About freaking time!” I thought) as she petted and caressed his extremely stiff lovely black boner.

They lay down together on the bed and seemed to be talking.  His ass looked really cute.  If I’d been there I wouldn’t have been wasting my time talking.  I would have had my mouth full already.

He pulled a box of condoms from the bedside table.  She shook her head ‘No.’ They kissed and touched a little more.  Than he sat up, as if he had made a decision.  She listened, and then nodded.  He pulled open the drawer on the side table and brought out the dildo.  Again, I watched Blonde Girl make a face and shake her head ‘No.’   Neighbor Guy put the toy back in its drawer.

I guess they came to some sort of compromise: he straddled her chest and jerked off onto her tits.  Blonde Girl seemed to enjoy that.  After he was done and she wiped up with a Kleenex, they both got dressed again and she headed out into the chilly night.  I felt bad for him.  I felt like he had gotten the short end of the stick.

The next day was Saturday, the designated writing day.  Clouds loomed low and dark, and a few scattered flurries whipped past the window.  The sun never really showed its face all day, and by mid-afternoon it was dark outside.

I saw the light come on across the street, and grabbed my faithful binoculars to have a look.  Was he alone?  Or did he have that Blonde Girl with him?

He was alone.  He stripped down to his white boxer shorts and lay down and as I watched disappointed, opened up a book and started reading.

I took a deep breath and contemplated what I was about to do.  I’d been thinking about this all week.  There was nothing for it but to do it.  I pulled my favorite vibrator out of the underwear drawer where it lived and switched on the overhead light.

I climbed up onto the window sill, feeling like an ass.  With the light on, I could no longer see out the window across the way.  “Please,” I thought, “Please don’t chicken out now.”

One thing was for sure: I was eminently visible to anyone who happened to be looking at my window, and I knew it.  Feeling highly self-conscious, I started to strip.  I really hoped I looked sexy, because just then I didn’t feel very sexy.  I felt like a fool.

I have never actually personally seen a strip show, but I had a pretty good idea of what I was supposed to do.  As seductively as possible, I danced my clothes off, until I stood naked in the cold light of the window frame.  Then, feeling like The Biggest Dork in the Universe, I started to masturbate.

I surprised myself.  The feeling of being on display to the city of the night, of not knowing exactly who could see me, who was getting ready to call the cops, or who was getting his (or her) jollies from watching my touch myself was a powerful thrilling aphrodisiac.  Soon, I had almost forgotten that I was supposed to be putting on a show, and was cruelly pinching and twisting my own hard nipple and deeply penetrating my pussy with my fingers while I ground the humming vibrator against my clit.  The orgasm, when it came, was earth-shattering, and I collapsed weak-kneed onto the window sill.

It was dark in the window across the way.  A little disappointed and out of breath, I pulled on my pajamas and sat down at the computer to write.  I was actually making some progress when the street door buzzed.

The intercom didn’t work, so I just buzzed the door open and stood by the front door of my apartment, waiting.

I didn’t have to wait long.  He must have run up all five flights of stairs.  When the knock came on the apartment door, I unclicked the deadbolt and found myself face to face with him.  It was my beautiful Neighbor Guy, looking chilly but incredibly sexy in a pair of faded blue jeans and a t-shirt that I could see his stiff little nipples through.

He opened his mouth, but I silenced him with a kiss.  It felt really good to kiss those lips.  Really, really good.  I could have kissed him for a long time.  But I wasn’t in a patient mood.  I was already fumbling with the fly of his jeans as he stepped into the apartment, letting the door fall close behind him.

His boxers and jeans fell around his ankles, and his cock bobbed out, stiff and black and delicious looking.  Looking up at him through my thick glasses, I dropped to my knees in front of that beautiful cock.  Without a word, I opened my mouth and swallowed it whole.

It tasted really good.  It was a clean, male, sexy taste, and I was gobbling it all up.   I was masturbating as I sucked, and Neighbor Guy had his hands down my pajama top, playing with my tits.  He was incredibly hard and hot in my mouth.  The only blowjob experience I had was from watching it done in videos.  I hoped I was doing ok.

Reluctantly, I removed his hands from my breasts.  Just now, I wanted to be completely in control.  I took the opportunity to pull off my top, setting my boobs free.  Then I went back to work on his cock, licking, kissing, sucking and bobbing my head up and down.  He moaned and I melted.  I had never had so much fun in my life.  Reaching behind him, cupping that sexy tight little ass, I let one finger explore between his cheeks, quickly finding what I was looking for.  I pressed a finger, slippery with my own juice, up inside his asshole as his moans escalated.  I could feel his body squeezing me as he humped my face, giving himself up to pleasure.

I let his hard cock flop out of my mouth.  It glistened with my saliva, and seemed to throb in time with his heartbeat.  I really wanted that thing up my cunt.  But not now.  I turned him around so his tight brown buns were right in my face.  I kissed him all over his tush before centering in on his crack.  I slurped up and down between his cheeks, enjoying his musky, male taste.  He was groaning out loud, which made me even hotter than I already was.  I parted his cheeks and licked his tiny little asshole.  He moaned.  I pressed the tip of my tongue into his opening, working my way up inside him.  Reaching down between my legs, I almost couldn’t believe how wet my pussy was.

I’m not sure how long I tongue-fucked him.  I don’t think it was really very long, but the bliss seemed to last forever.  I reached around and grabbed his cock and felt up his balls as I licked his asshole.  I felt so powerful with his gear in my hands, this strong, beautiful man squirming on the tip of my tongue.

I felt him stiffen.  “Oh my God, I’m going to come!”

I removed my face from his butt and he turned around again, offering me his swollen dick.  I took as much of it in my mouth as I could, pulling his wet ass toward me with both hands and sucking as hard as I could.

He came loud and he came hard, squirting my mouth full of thick, steaming come.  I drank what seemed like a gallon of his sticky, bitter, exquisitely male come from his spasming dick.  I would have been happy to suck him dry, but apparently he was a little too sensitive for that.  Reluctantly, I let his soft, wet black cock flop out of my mouth.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I pressed one finger against his lips.  “Later,” I said.  He pulled his jeans back up, kissed my on the forehead, and went back downstairs into the night.

I may have been the oldest, horniest virgin in the city, but at that moment I was feeling very satisfied.  I sat down at my computer and started to write.

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