Daddy’s Little Girl Ch. 02

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“Oh God! Daddy, please, don’t stop that feels so great! I’m CUMMING Daddy!”

Daddy had poked and prodded every hole that I had in me that night. I could not believe that all my fantasies with him had finally come true. It was more that I imagined it would be. Then again, I guess being the older one here, he knew what he was doing.

Or the second time tonight my father fucked me. He grabbed me up from the couch by the hair of my head.

“Has my Princess learned her lesson yet, or does she need more of Daddy’s cock to fill her tight little pussy?”

He placed his hands on my ass checks and picked me up to sit me on his throbbing hard on. I screamed feeling his fat cock entering my tight cunt! It still hurt a little but it was all worth it when he started bouncing me up and down on his cock. Holding me up with nothing but his hands he slammed his meat into me over and over again. I came so hard that I nearly slipped off my father’s cock. He grabbed me by the hips and shoved his cock so far inside me that I thought I was gonna choke, before I felt it throbbing inside my pussy.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Both my father and I turned around in utter amazement. My mother was standing there with her hands on her hips. Her short pinstriped skirt was riding up to where you could see her stocking underneath. My mother’s big C cup tits were oozing out over the top of her shirt. She was a site to behold. And pissed off as hell.

My father walked over to her.

“Well, I certainly did not expect to see you here this early my dear.” He said with a escort eryaman gleaming look in his eye.

“And I did not expect you to be fucking our daughter. How could you?”

My father looked at her with questioning eyes, “Is this not what we had talked about? Or was I mistaken when you told me that you would love to eat her beautiful pussy. After all, this all started when you went with her to get that clit piercing.”

I stood in the midst of it all. Not really sure whether to put my clothes back on or not. I just stared at the both of them waiting for whatever was to come.

Daddy grabbed my mom by the hair and led her to the couch where I was. He pushed me back onto the couch. “Spread your legs! Mommy wants to eat your pussy!”

I did just as he asked. I held my legs far up in the air so that my mother could kneel between my legs and have easy access to my throbbing clit. Daddy grabbed her head and placed it between my legs where she began to devour my pussy like it was the last meal she would ever have. I writhed and bucked my sore little cunt against her face. Riding her tongue while she was making me come.

“Mommy, OH MY GOD! This is so GOOOOODDD!!” I screamed.

I could almost not believe that they were both here in the same room with me fucking and pleasing me. You would think that they’d had this planned all along.

Right before I came Daddy grabbed Mom by the hair. “Get up and bend over my desk NOW!” He commanded.

“But….but…I did what you told me to.” She studdered.

“Now bitch! Or else I escort elvankent break out the whip, do you hear me?”

Mom went over to the desk and bent over it raising up her skirt. Daddy came to me and pulled me off the couch as well.

” I told you I was gonna make you into my little slut…now get over there on your hands and knees and eat your mother’s pussy while I fuck her.”

I crawled between my mother’s legs and began to lick and suck on her pussy lips. I had never eaten a pussy before and was not sure how to do it. Before long her clit was hard and erect. I took my tongue and began to fondle it. She began grinding her cunt into my face and I was swallowing her cum.

Daddy stepped up behind her and slipped his fat cock into her pussy. He would alternate between my mouth and her cunt. He was fucking her so hard at times it was hard to keep up with the rhythm on my mother’s pussy. But I managed to make her spill her come juices all over my tongue. I could not help but put on hand down between my legs to play with my clit, I was so fucking horny!

Daddy slipped his cock slowly from her wet, dripping cunt and slid it into my mouth. He grabbed me by the back of the hair as he shoved it down my throat. “There you go! What a good little girl you are, sucking on your Daddy’s cock the way you are. Umm…yes, Princess…take it all down your throat!”

My mother was getting very fidgety above, when Daddy leaned over and commanded her down on her knees to share his cock with me. Both of us begin licking and sucking all over his fat escort emek dick. She would lick one side and I would lick the other. He thrust it into her mouth and I begin licking his balls. Both of us traded back and forth for quite some time. We could taste a mixture of our come all over his cock and neither of us could get enough of it.

My mother threw me back onto the floor and began to devour my pussy. Daddy stood above us stroking his, now, throbbing cock. When he began to come he let out a low growl and I watched the come drip down from his cock into my mother’s face and all over my cunt. She greedily sucked and licked it like it was the last pussy she would ever see. Before long, I let go and grabbed her by the head shoving her face into my cunt. “Eat it bitch! That’s right, eat your little girl’s pussy. You slut!”

She sucked on my clit so fucking hard that I thought she was going to rip it off before I started squirting come all over her face. She licked and sucked ever last drop from my cunt before she ever even came up for air.

“My two little sluts, what more could I ask for?”

“When are we gonna do this again?” mom said.

“Yeah, Daddy that was fucking awesome.”

“Why don’t you go and get yourselves cleaned up ladies and maybe we can have another round before the night is over.”

My mother and I rushed into her shower and turned on the hot water. We began to lick and massage each other. Most daughters would never be able to experience this kind of love from their mothers. I was taking full advantage of this opportunity. I got down on my knees and begin licking her pussy again. She propped her leg up on the shower wall to give me the best access to her lucious cunt.

“Oh god! You are so good baby girl.”

“Umm…thanks Mom.”

This was going to be a long night for all of us.

Wicked Angel 2003

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Libby’s New Car

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A story for all the frustrated old men — may your dreams come true

Edited by:- Linda62953

Libby’s New Car

Chapter 1

James and Libby Thompson were getting ready for their evening appointment at the car dealership.

Libby had pestered and pestered him about buying her a car of her own. She was absolutely fed up with having to ride around all the time in her husband’s ‘functional’ but usually dirty, SUV. Finally, after much discussion about the state of the planet; whether they actually needed two cars; what about the cost? Etcetera, etcetera, finally, she had managed to persuade him to buy her the car of her dreams.

Truth be told, James had had every intention of buying the car as a present for her in celebration of their fifth wedding anniversary coming up in a couple of days time. You can’t give in all the time though can you? “Make her work for it,” he had thought. Of course, her extra-special compliance in the bedroom department as she tried to influence his decision helped too…

James watched silently as his beautiful wife got dressed after having a shower. Suddenly he interrupted, “Not that top. The semi see-through one instead.”

Libby glared at him as he lay on their bed smiling up at her, “You know damn well I never wear a bra you dirty bastard. Do you want every Tom, Dick or Harry to be able to see my tits?” she asked as she pulled the black cotton top she had had the intention of wearing back over her head. Her damp hair tumbled back down onto her bare shoulders as her unfettered breasts oscillated slightly before they settled back onto her chest.

She didn’t actually need to wear a bra. Her wonderfully shaped young breasts were quite able to support themselves of their own accord. They enticingly swayed and rippled around like soft, set jelly under her tops whenever she moved her upper body. The two beautiful, dark brown-tipped, orbs were so naturally firm, hardly flattening at all whenever she laid on her back. Instead they stood like two prominent peaks of pleasure on the many occasions she reclined to receive her husband’s body between her widespread thighs.

Shaking her head in amused resignation, Libby pulled the afore-mentioned sheer blouse from her wardrobe. It too, was black in color. With this one though, the shadows formed by her breasts as they moved around freely beneath the soft silk, inexorably drew the attention of anyone in the fortunate position of being able see her from the front. – If she didn’t have anything else covering the diaphanous top of course.

“You do know that anyone will be able to see right through this if I open my coat don’t you?” Libby mischievously enquired, “Or is that the intention?”

“Of course my darling, you shouldn’t hide those beauties from view. The world deserves to see them.” James mocked as he watched her pull her red mini-skirt over her bare buttocks. The string of her black silk thong seemed to peep at him between her pear-shaped cheeks as she bent over to put her high-heeled shoes on. ‘Fucking hell that’s sexy’ the horny husband thought to himself as he ogled his teasing wife.

A few minutes later, the happy couple left the house. Libby had grabbed her red leather jacket from the rack in the hallway as they passed through; covering her wobbling breasts as she quickly donned it. She then joined her husband in the SUV, displaying a long length of bare thigh to his always-interested gaze as she cocked her leg into the cabin and pulled herself up onto the seat.

“I don’t see why I couldn’t just wear my jeans and a t-shirt,” she protested, “Just what are you up to?”

Smiling smugly, James winked at his wife, “You’ll see.”

As he drove out of their drive, James casually placed his hand on Libby’s exposed thigh. Softly he ran his fingers upwards until they met the black silk of the minuscule panties that barely covered the smooth mound of her freshly shaved pudendum.

Libby automatically spread her legs wide as her body unwittingly allowed her husband access. Gently stroking her aroused clitoris, he glanced across at his wife, noting with satisfaction her eyes were closed and her bright-red lips parted in response to her sexual arousal. Her brilliant white teeth were clenched as her jaw tightened with her futile attempt of trying to resist the orgasm slowly creeping up on her.

“Oh yes, my darling, You’ll see,” the devious husband thought to himself as he infuriatingly removed his prying fingers and concentrated on the road ahead.

“You are such an evil bastard.” Libby gasped.

The frustrated wife pulled her short skirt down as far as she could, attempting to cover her now very wet panties.

“Dirty fucker!” she hissed quietly at her husband.

“Slut!” he laughingly replied.

Chapter 2

John Clayton was his usual grumpy ‘Saturday’ self. He hated his job. He especially hated his escort dikmen job at weekends.

He could, and should, be spending his time much more productively playing golf, one of his two big passions in life. He could even, God forbid, be spending some time with his wife. Actually, that would never happen.

It was her fault entirely that he was still working at all, never-mind having to work six days a fucking week in that crappy car-salesman’s job he had had to take in order to pay their mortgage. The mortgage they had had to take out after she had insisted on them moving home in their mid-fifties to a more expensive house. Leaving the home they had lived in most of their married life, the home that was totally paid for and mortgage free. Leaving the home he loved, that was next door to a lovely municipal golf course. Just to move to a ‘beautiful country cottage’ that was her fucking dream not his. Yes, he hated his job, hated his whole life, and, truth be told, probably hated his fucking wife too…


The 63 year old, slightly overweight specimen of a frustrated rock star was a typically sad example of an old man just playing out time before his retirement. He was bored with his job, bored with his life, and especially bored with his wife Fiona. She was a 65-year-old bundle of “joy” packed into a body that was at least 50 pounds overweight and as sexually unattractive as a woman could be to her husband of 40 years.

He was a weak man. He knew damn well he was a weak man. Always willing to settle for the status-quo, he had never in his whole life pushed the boat out and done something daring and spontaneous; never done anything to change his mundane way of life. He knew damn well he should have divorced his wife years ago; found himself another woman more in tune with his needs; left the woman who had dragged him meekly down to her own level of mediocrity.

Knowing he should have done it and actually doing it? Now that was the crux of the matter. In truth, he was scared. He had had a roving eye for years, slowly turning into a dirty old voyeur as his own sex-life deteriorated. He nowadays got his kicks from looking at any woman who happened to flash a bit of flesh. Damn! He had even spent so many hours on the internet looking at porn he was actually bored with that too.

Not particularly attractive, but not ugly either, he had had a couple of flings earlier in his marriage. Once, many years ago now, he had even had a five-year long affair with the plain, much older, secretary he had had in his job as a mid-level company accountant. On several other occasions he had had short term relationships with a few women who were desperate enough to put up with his cranky attitude and miserable ways, – for a short while anyway. Until they inevitably got bored of him too, of course.

Not recently though. The last ten years or more had been so…well…fucking horrendous was the word. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he had had any kind of sex that didn’t involve contact with his right hand. Even the need for that had almost dried up to a couple of times a week when she was in bed upstairs. Basically, his problem was that he was scared. Frightened of upsetting the apple cart, he worried about what might happen to him if he actually did do something about his shit existence. Instead of taking a chance like any real man would, he had submissively settled for the boring, mundane, comfortable life he now reluctantly led.

* * *

John didn’t really know how old age had galloped up on them so quickly. They had been reduced to an over-the-hill married couple stagnating their way through later life. Hardly communicating at all, they barely even spoke to each other whenever their paths crossed at the boring little “chocolate-box” cottage she-who-must-be-obeyed had insisted on moving to when their only child had left home. John fucking hated that place too. It wasn’t him. He was a frustrated rock-star. He should have been living it up in drug-fuelled debauchery like his heroes the Stones. Not decaying into senility, old before his time. Waiting for the blessed relief of Alzheimer’s or whatever, to claim his mind before he finally disintegrated into the decrepit old man his father had turned into before his death at the relatively early age of 68.

It was sad really. Fiona had been such a lovely girl when they first met. Vivacious, life and soul of the party, always giggling and laughing whenever they were together. What the fuck had happened to her? To him? They had had so much going for them when they were young. Now look at them. Two boring old farts who would be more suited to playing fucking bingo than listening to his beloved rock music. That was the one pleasure in life he was allowed, but only after she had gone to her bed religiously at 9:30pm, no matter what the time of year.

They didn’t even share a escort emek marital bed nowadays. She had the main bedroom, with its own en-suite of course. He, her frustrated old lump of a husband, he had to sleep in the spare room at the other end of the upstairs landing, well out of harm’s way.

She would go upstairs, shower, clean her teeth, and brush her hair. Always the same fucking routine. Always the same sort of passion-killing fucking nightdress. Hiding her body from his view, even if he had wanted to fucking look at it. She would close her bedroom’s heavy-duty blackout curtains, denying any late evening summer sunshine the chance of illuminating her dull life as she attempted to completely block off the rest of the world.

All the while, he would be left downstairs with his headphones and glass of cheap scotch, trying to obliterate the ghastly reality that was his shit existence.


John had always been frustrated with their sex life. Fiona had appeared to enjoy it at first, although she would never admit it or even talk about it. Instead, she would get embarrassed and tongue-tied whenever he brought the subject up. It was always a struggle to get her to let go enough to have an orgasm whenever they were making love, (they never fucked, she hated that word).

She would never be completely nude, her ever-present nightdress covering her chest. The flannelette garment would be rolled up to her waist, exposing just enough of her for her to be able to fulfil her ‘wifely duties’. She would just lay back, always in the socially acceptable missionary position, as he gently pushed his invasive penis into her barely moist vagina. Very occasionally, her legs would unwittingly wrap around his thighs as he penetrated her, her body betraying her mind as it subconsciously got excited by their coupling. Most times though, she would just suffer in silence as she allowed her husband use of her body to satisfy his carnal needs.

At first he had thought, maybe she was just shy and reserved, blaming her attitude on her upbringing by her strictly religious Catholic parents. Their attitude to sex was that the act of fornication was for procreation only, definitely not for recreation, (only degenerate people got pleasure from such an animalistic act in their opinion). They passed those narrow-minded views onto their only child, a beautiful daughter who had a body just made for mind-blowing, sloppy, messy sex…

Once their son, John junior, had been born, John and Fiona’s sex-life disintegrated even further. Admittedly, she had had a difficult pregnancy; her morning sickness seemed to last through the whole 9 months of her gestation period causing them both huge distresses. After the birth though, that was virtually it as far as sex with her husband was concerned. She had performed her wifely duties. She had produced the heir society decreed was her role in life. Now she didn’t have to accept her husband’s frequent and unwelcome demands for sexual gratification any longer.

John had been unable to tempt her into regular lovemaking. Any effort to persuade her to accept her sexuality fell on deaf ears as she sank back into her repressed childhood beliefs. The thought of getting pleasure alone from the act without the intention of pregnancy never even crossed her mind as she virtually became celibate. Her husband rarely even got a glimpse of her nude body never-mind had access to her womanly charms. Instead, their sex life slowly diminished if that was at all possible. Once a fortnight gradually became once a month, then just the odd occasion. – When he could persuade her.

Eventually it became twice a year. On his birthday and New Year’s Eve. Very rarely was she persuaded to allow him to use her body. Only after several days of whining and moaning on his part.

Of course, this deprivation of his sexual needs led John to become a bitter, frustrated old man who invariably took those frustrations out on anyone who crossed his path, getting him the reputation amongst those who were acquainted with him as a “Grumpy Old Twat”…

* * *

They had even celebrated their Ruby wedding anniversary apart earlier this year. Instead of a night that should have been a family celebration, Fiona had a meal at their son and his civil partner’s house, while John was out on his own having probably the best night of his life that didn’t involve sex. He had been watching his revered Mick and the boys playing Hyde Park over 40 years after he had first seen them there. Now that was a night to remember in his old age.

Of course, John Jr. just had to have turned out to be gay. Not that his father had anything against being gay, get it where you can was his opinion. “Maybe I should even try it myself,” he had occasionally thought, during his extended periods of sexual abstinence, desperate for any sort of carnal release as he was.

No, escort eryaman it was just that, along with everything else that was wrong with his marriage, John would never get to be the loving grandfather he had had himself as a small boy. Anyway, each to his own was his liberal attitude towards his son.


Why they were still together totally baffled anyone who knew the couple. It baffled John himself too. Why had he stuck with such a prudish, frigid woman all those years? He had loved her at first of course, but that love had long since died, (together with his sex-life) leaving him frustrated and lonely.

That is what frightened him the most, being alone in his old age like his father had been after his mother had died of breast cancer at the age of 58. He had watched his dad turn into an old man way before his time. Giving up on life rather than fight for it, like he should have done. No, bad as it was, his marriage at least meant he always had someone to come home to.

Overall, grumpy John’s life hadn’t turned out to be the bed of roses he had envisaged when he first met his future wife all those years ago.


Hopefully though, this evening may be a little better than the norm. With a touch of good fortune, he may just get a chance to indulge his voyeuristic tendencies a little. The wife of the couple that he was staying late to meet was truly stunning.

He had seen her a few days before when they first came into the showroom to enquire about purchasing a CLK 320 for her. John was almost certain that the woman had not been wearing a bra. Her gorgeous breasts seemed to sway deliberately in front of him as he tried to concentrate on talking with her husband about the car. Beautiful as they were, they totally mesmerised the salesman with their hypnotic movement under her thin pale-green coloured top as the woman moved gracefully around the vehicle.

He even thought he might have glimpsed a shadowy peek of hard, brown nipple as she leaned forward to adjust the car seat. Her skirt had ridden up then also, exposing her firm, lightly tanned thighs to his leering gaze as he leaned into the car to show her where the seat-adjustment switch was.

Yes, he was actually quite looking forward to seeing her again. Maybe getting another sneaky look at her beautiful titties. Maybe even seeing her knickers, if she was wearing a skirt. The car seat was very low after all…

Chapter 3

The married couple’s SUV pulled into the almost deserted garage forecourt. They were both very eager to get there, their excitement building during the short journey from their home. Hers for the obvious reason of finally getting her own car. But his? James was anticipating far more fun than just buying a car…

It was late, just before the normal closing time. The garage showroom was just about empty, most of the sales staff having already dashed off to whatever they had planned for their Saturday night’s entertainment. The sales manger, John Clayton, was waiting for them in his office. Impatiently, he had been checking the clock every few minutes, staring at the CCTV monitors mounted on his office wall.

“Finally,” he muttered to himself as he saw his customers’ car drive up and went out to greet them. “At Fucking Last…”


James had arranged with the salesman to meet at that time of day deliberately. For his devious plan to work without fear of anyone discovering what was going on, the three of them had to be the only ones still there.

The salesman dismally failed to hide the fact that he was trying to peek down Libby’s loose-fitting top as he showed the couple around their intended purchase. James smiled smugly to himself as he frequently observed the old guy staring at her unfettered, bra-less tits… Swinging about provocatively as they were…

Libby, for her part, unwittingly played her role to perfection. Frequently bending and twisting her body into positions that enabled the voyeuristic older man to get tantalising glimpses of her almost naked breasts. The see-through blouse occasionally gaped open to reveal the hard tip of one, or both, of her womanly charms to her grateful audience as she reached for some switch or knob to examine.

James, of course, was completely aware of what the salesman was doing and what the lecherous old sod was able to see as he craned his neck ever more blatantly to get a better view. Smirking secretly to himself, the husband followed the salesman into his office to begin negotiations about the purchase of his wife’s dream car.

During those negotiations, the flush-faced salesman was obviously distracted by the young wife sitting in front of him. She was displaying the carefree abandon with regard to displaying her body he jealously wished his own 65-year-old wife had done during their marriage. However, he was absolutely astonished, as was the embarrassed Libby, when James suddenly asked him.

“I notice you have been trying to grab a look at my wife’s breasts Mr. Clayton. Just how much discount may we have if she shows you what you have been trying to see?”

John Clayton gasped audibly as he slumped back into his chair.

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Red Silk Ch. 01-02

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Part 1 – jazz music

I have arranged to meet you in a pub in Islington but I’ve forgotten about London travel, how the connections don’t all work out, how one double parked car can cause chaos and now I’m late, terrified you won’t be there. I can’t explain about this because you refused to give me your number even though you have mine. You can’t have noticed that I’m late and I’m not surprised that you haven’t used it to check on my progress. Still, I foolishly recheck my phone for messages, anything.

I don’t know who to look for or what to expect and I know the real you could never match the image in my head. You, on the other hand, know what I look like because I finally cracked and sent you a photo of me – one I immediately wished I hadn’t. I kept looking at this photo afterwards, wondering what you thought, aware that it gave you all the power.

“You’re gorgeous.” you wrote but I couldn’t tell if you meant it. “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” you said, surprised at my question.

It’s always the last part of a journey that I hate and as I walk out of Highbury Station I grip my A to Z frightened you won’t wait and I almost run to Upper Street certain I won’t be able to find the place or that you won’t be there. I don’t know who to look for. What if you’ve gone?

I feel uncomfortable and foolish in my red silk dress and as I enter the pub the heat hits me and I worry about the silk sticking to me in the humidity.

I settle in a booth with my glass of red wine and take in the people around me – thirty somethings, amber lighting, bevelled etched mirrors behind the bar and jazz music which I don’t usually like. Tonight, however, I find I do; this new experience somehow needs a new soundtrack – and if it doesn’t work out I can tell myself it was a shitty place. There’s a tall, narrow hipped guy sitting alone diagonally from me. He checks me out and then spends a long time sending a text message. He has shoulder length curly hair, a black shirt – very expensive looking. Calvin Klein, I say to myself, pretending like I know. Practicing my self assured mode. In case you do arrive.

Now it’s an hour since we were supposed to meet- four cigarettes in the ashtray, one in my hand. I look up from my book – and there you are. I want to say,

“You’re late!” but you’re smiling, beautiful – not what I expected. You’re wearing something very feminine but my brain isn’t able to make out shapes and colours all I know is that I expected something butcher, I don’t know, more deconstructed.

“I came from work.” You say dropping a large canvas bag on the bench next to you. That would explain the unexpected outfit, I think. You didn’t bother to change. You’re smiling. I like your mouth a lot – full lips but too narrow like you’re drawing on a cigarette. I glance at the ashtray,

“Hope you don’t mind the fags.” I say. My voice sounds plummy, stupid. I smile foolishly waiting for you to light up as well but you just say,

“I knew you smoked, remember? “

I fetch us a drink self-conscious as I walk away but you get your mobile out and send a message as soon as I leave and because you aren’t looking at me I take the opportunity to examine you in case you decide to leave. The guy in the booth stands as I return to our table and gives me the tiniest of smiles as he leaves.

“Pretty.” I say nodding in the direction of the swinging door.

“Gay.” You say, taking your drink, your long polished nails relax around dikmen escort bayan the wine glass, steady, elegant.

We order food but I don’t feel like eating although I can’t seem to stop talking. You ask a lot of questions. You look at my hands, my neck, and the ashtray and people in the pub but hardly ever at my face. You’re sitting with one leg under you leaning on you elbow smiling.

I hold my fork in the air a lot; trail it past my lips then put it down again. I’m feeling a different kind of hunger and when I drop my napkin and lean down to pick it up I see your painted toes in jewelled flip flops and I imagine pressing my tongue between them, breathing in your scent from under your skirt. My face must be a little pink when I emerge because now you’re looking at me, full on. Green blue eyes, eyebrow raised and I have to look away. It hurts – it’s too deep. I can smell myself; surely you can smell how much I want you? We talk about writing some more. I sound pretentious, like I’m making it up as I go along and I know just know that I’m not fooling you. For me, this isn’t about conversation. It stopped being that too long ago.

“Back in a minute.” I say.

In the loo, I take a long glug of water from my bag and sit on the toilet for ages composing myself.

I wish I had worn knickers for I am so wet it terrifies me and I know that it will show through the silk when I stand up. I grate my fingers across my vulva astonished at the desire I feel. What must you think? I decide I’m going to play it cool before I make a total arse of myself. Slow down with the wine. Get a grip otherwise it will be over. I try a couple of deep breaths to try and calm down but all this does is swirl my arousal around my belly and the snapshot of my face in the mirror when I reapply my lipstick is of someone I don’t recognise – of someone with no control and I head back to you like a crack addict.

And there you are, leaning against the wall of the corridor.

“Oh, hi!” I say, glancing past you nervously, “There’s no queue. You should have gone in.”

I move towards you, suddenly a little uncomfortable at the narrow space between us.

“You were a long time.”

Your voice is steady, matter of fact and I find myself shaking a little, guilty as if you knew what I had been doing. And then you push away from the wall so my way is blocked. I daren’t move and I wait lips trembling for you to say something. You seem in no hurry to speak and I’m aware of your eyes taking a slow sweep of me, head to toe.

“You’re still wearing your shoes.” you say, composed, head to one side.

I want to say that I was about to take them off when we sat back down but before I can find a way of doing this without sounding like a total idiot your hands are on my shoulders and I find myself swivelled round and pressed against the flock paper my lower lip pulling for a moment against the rough surface, my breasts squashed flat as you push your body up against mine. I let out a little moan and try to turn my head to look at you and I have to tilt it back so I can breathe. I can smell your perfume as I squint at a photograph of some cricketers bearing a trophy and steady myself by placing my hands flat against the wall knowing I’m not allowed to move, waiting for you to touch me.

A soft finger traces the shape of my ear followed by warm breath as you ask me,

“…but you’ve been a ‘good’ girl, haven’t emek escort bayan you?”

You know I have because your hands are smoothing across my back and I know you can feel through the silk that I am completely naked under my dress. I desperately arch my back into you the heat between my legs causing me to grit my teeth as I hiss,

“I have been good, feel.”

One coo,l dry hand continues the exploration while the other braces against my shoulder. I am so aroused I can smell myself, the heat rolling upwards to my breasts in anticipation as your nails skim my waist and make painfully slow progress upwards. Your keep up a continuous commentary as I close my eyes so I can concentrate on breathing.

” Smooth, soft…you soft, good girl…I could see the men looking at you…but you…you’re mine, aren’t you? You’re my hot little girl. ”

My response a pathetic whimper.

Your hand slips into the front of my dress, across my belly and your little finger circles my navel making me pull away from the wall as I try and press closer into you. I stretch up onto my toes moaning as your hand slides downwards towards my mound and I shift again trying to rub myself against your fingers which grip rather than stroke, teasing rather than caressing me and I turn my head again, my eyes pressed shut as my temple grates against the hard surface, your tongue swirling against my earlobe causing me to shake with desire and need to be fucked. You chuckle at my trembling and my forehead slides down the wall as I try to fuck myself on your hand.

I can feel you pull away slightly so you can enjoy the spectacle although your hips continue to hump my buttocks.

“Spread your legs.” You say, low and predatory, “and stay up on your toes.”

The door into the corridor is kicked open and you have already pulled away from me, the silk from my dress a moment ago bunched up between us falling to cover my bare skin. Heart pounding, I pretend to read the caption under the picture till the woman has disappeared into the loo.

I turn slowly to face you, a piece at a time, exhaling with each quarter turn. We lock eyes as I grip the sides of my dress and scoot the skirt upwards so I can offer myself to you.

“You are a good, good girl.” And your smirk sends a bolt straight to my already sopping cunt. I wait for the next instruction but you’ve turned away from me and disappeared into the bar making no attempt to pull the door behind you so that I am forced to tug my skirt down and somehow find the composure to follow.

The woman emerges from the loo taking in my shaking figure as she strolls past me.

Back at the table, I slip out of my shoes and rest my varnished red toes on the bench beside you so you can be pleased with me. You make no comment and as we eat dessert I imagine smearing the trifle across your neck, pressing it into your mouth with my tongue. Little beads of perspiration have formed on my nose and suddenly I can eat because I’ve decided that what happened – it’s all I’m going to get – you are going to leave me hanging. All I want to talk about is what you just did to me, but it’s as if it didn’t happen and I find myself consumed with doubt. It crosses my mind that this is indeed just a game to you – an exercise in what you can make another human being do – and I’m inexplicably willing, aroused and apprehensive, frightened of being abandoned any minute.

I say something eryaman escort bayan about getting a train and you offer to walk with me to the tube station…

read on – part 2 – trees

Part 2 – trees

It’s dark outside. I feel my lip tremble, shit I don’t want this to be over. We walk past a row of town houses and plane trees and I hear myself saying,

“Do you remember that time you said you’d take me to the pub and…” but I don’t get to finish the sentence because you’ve pulled me to you and your tongue is lapping at my lower lip, rough like a cat’s – little sideways strokes.

My arms are across my chest and I’m terrified, disbelieving, and hungry but all I can do is part my lips, hoping you’ll kiss me properly. You pull away, grab my hands, ease them round your waist and whisper,

” …and fuck you.” then you kiss me, there’s no softness but suckling with a hint of teeth and I still can’t kiss you back – the heat from your body making my motionless palms throb. I force my eyes open and I can see that you’re gazing at me. If we were guys I’d be grinding my cock into yours, I would have come in my pants by now but all I can do is pant and wait for the spell to break. Then you push me backwards up against one of the trees.

“Fuck…” is all I can force out.

And now I know I have to do something so this won’t be over before it’s started or before I crumple into a heap and beg. You’re chewing your bottom lip, waiting for me to give up control – the expert.

I measure the distance between us, I hold out one hand and it looks foolish, childlike. When I look away in despair it’s all it takes. Your hands are on my shoulders and your mouth envelops mine, drawing on my tongue, your hips grinding into my belly. I loosen the tie on my dress and you sense what I’m doing and slide one hand down the front gasping despite yourself when you feel how wet I am.

“Besotted! I knew it!” The other hand pins my shoulders still while you slither two fingers up and down the slope of my over-sensitive nub. I want to touch you so badly but I’m too busy tilting to meet your fingers and grinding my nails into my palms.

“It hurts…God…it hurts. ” My eye lids are rolling open and shut and I glimpse a flicker of concern.

“Do you want me to stop?” I grab you wrist,

“Fuck no…please don’t stop! ” I have to tilt my head up just a little to kiss you and for some reason; the fact that you’re slightly taller than me kills me.

“This is what you wanted?” You hiss into my ear.

Fuck I’m so close yet somehow miles away from coming. Too worried about being seen and in case you’ll stop.

“It’s what I wanted. I want you…God…”

I take your hand again trying to get you to penetrate me with your fingers, to lose it too, but you’re still in charge, dipping your fingers into the lava just to tease me and then whipping your hand away.

“What?” and I’m pissed off now. “Don’t stop…I want…don’t stop…and don’t do that!” I say as you lick the tip of your index finger, flashing the pink inside of your lip for a moment as you pull it away. “You want me to beg!” I glance at our bags on the floor

“I think you’ve done that already.” you chuckle picking up your stuff. “Tube… or more fucking?”

I try not to jump to your side, try to rediscover the part of me that makes jokes rather than pleads. “You’ve turned me into a freakin lesbian!”

“So ‘fucking’ it is.”

I fasten my dress and follow you wanting to hold you as you glide beside me in case you vanish in a puff of smoke. I light a cigarette, my mouth dry and shitty my cunt aching for more and you don’t say another word until we get to your place.

To Be Continued – part 3 soon…

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Letting Go

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This is a story of 2 couples who experience swapping for the first time. Warning, there is significant build up. If you want action in the first scene you’ll be disappointed. If you like to get to know the characters a bit first, you may enjoy yourself.

This story is a work of fiction, any resemblance the characters may have to real people is a coincidence. All the characters in the story are consenting adults.

The author requests your support by asking that you rate the story and leave feedback and comments.

Lunch Time Stories

I remember sitting pool side and feeling the tropical sun on my skin, I could hear Bob Marley in a distant speaker reassuring me, “that every little thing is going to be all right.” I also heard waves lapping at the nearby shore, and couples laughing.

I was replaying the conversation again. She had asked if I ever thought about it. I had thought to myself, “Fuck yes, I think about it. I think about it almost every day!”… instead, I had cautiously said, “Sure, once in a while.”

We had been snuggling in bed; she was the small spoon, and I could not see her face. She had asked, “Do you ever think about doing it again?”

There it was, the loaded question. Did I? Did she? It was nuts. It was playing with fire.

I had answered, “I don’t know, maybe…. but I am not sure if we should… you?”

I got: “the same I guess… Either way, I think I should call Melissa.”

2 weeks later, I sat pool side and wondered for at least the 20th time, why she had brought Melissa up. Why now? I wondered if we should just let sleeping dogs lie.

Margo’s voice had interrupted my reverie. “Earth to Max.”

When I opened my eyes, there was my lovely wife grinning at me. She looked so cute, with her freckles and dimples. She had her hair pulled into a ponytail under a ball cap; at 38, she could pass for 25. My eyes fell to her bare breasts. They were glowing naked in the noonday sun, smallish but perfectly shaped. She was so at ease sitting naked among all these strange men and women.

She smiled, “where d’you go big guy?”

I returned her smile and lied, “I was just thinking how lucky I am; sitting in paradise, having lunch with two smoking hot naked women. Life is good.”

Margo smacked my arm, “hey I call foul, this is a nude beach not a strip club. Your’re supposed to be communing with nature, not perving on us women. It’s supposed to be all natural and wholesome and shit like that.”

“So shoot me, I am a red-blooded American male. The body is strong, but the will is weak.”

Darren came to my defense. “I’m with you. As a red-blooded Canadian male, the sights around here can be pretty distracting.”

Darren was distracted all right. I had caught him scoping out Margo more than once. In fact, behind his shades, I was pretty sure his eyes were glued to my wife’s boobs even as he spoke.

Margo teased, “well, you would never catch Katie and me checking out naked men. Right, sweetie?”

I looked at Katie as I waited for her to chime in. I have to admit, my eyes found her breasts before traveling north to her face. Even after two days, I was still entranced by her breasts. They were larger than Margo’s, but not by much. What I found fascinating was the fact that her puffy nipples were almost always swollen. I was never sure if she was cold, or in a constant state of arousal. Maybe that was just their natural state.

When my eyes drifted up to Katie’s face, I saw that she was giving me a devilish grin. I was busted again. She looked at Margo and said, “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it may incriminate me.”

Margo and I had met Darren and Katie a few nights earlier at dinner. We noticed them on the beach the next day. They had kept to themselves at first, but we broke the ice at the swim-up bar. Ice-breaking can be awkward at a nude beach bar, but we managed. In the ensuing days, we became good friends, and they eventually set up “camp with us under a palm tree. It’s funny how being on vacation seems to expedite making friends, spending time on the nude beach especially tends to break down barriers pretty quickly.

Margo and I enjoyed their company immensely, even though we had little in common. They were from Vancouver while we came from Kansas City. Darren was a veterinarian and reminded me of a big teddy bear. He was just a little short and maybe 15 pounds overweight. He was soft in the middle but had a burly chest and a lot of body hair, including a full and well-manicured beard. I, on the other hand, would describe myself as tall {6’2″} and more athletically built. Darren is quick-witted and outgoing, whereas I am fairly subdued in social situations. But we got along and discovered that we shared a passion for golf and jazz. Although we never admitted it, we also shared a keen interest in leering at each other’s wives. We both knew it, but we had reached an unspoken gentleman’s agreement. I love nude beach resorts, everybody looks, but no one admits it. At least I thought no one admitted it.

Margo and Katie were also a study in contrast. Margo is the epitome of the girl next door. She is only 5 foot four and not far north of 100 pounds. Her reddish blonde hair, fair skin dikmen escort and freckles, complimented a redhead’s fun and sassy personality. Katie was a pharmacist. She had long, light brown hair and expressive brown eyes. Like Darren, Margo is outgoing and a natural flirt. Like me, Katie was more subdued until she knew you. She was somehow sweet and friendly yet aloof at the same time. I always had the impression she was thinking much more than she was saying.

Margo has a great body, but her lively personality exudes cute more than sexy. At her best, she has an aura that seems to invite mischief. Lean, tall and athletic-looking; Katie looked built for sex. She had an almost feline quality to her body and movement. The sight of her stretched out on a beach chair simply could not be ignored. When she reclined, her hip bones stuck out and her pubic mound rose like a bare little mountain that drew attention to her sumptuous puffy lower lips. Her pelvis seemed to create a saddle that begged to be mounted. I had spent those beach days compulsively stealing glances between her legs.

I know that sounds creepy, but Katie had a tattoo of a red rose that started on her inside thigh and bent around her groin. It bloomed on that puffy mound just above her pussy. The eye was just drawn to it. I had even caught Margo checking it out a few times.

I didn’t know Katie very well yet, but what I knew of her made the tattoo surprising. She seemed quiet and self-possessed; I couldn’t imagine her lying exposed in an artist’s chair while a stranger inked her most private self. She was hard to read. Subdued, but a little wild. Truthfully, I was kind of crushing on her. At the time it seemed harmless.

While we had become very comfortable with Darren and Katie, the flirting had remained pretty tame. Let’s face it when you are talking to a naked woman, and her husband is sitting right next to you, prudence suggests you pick your words carefully.

That’s why the path that the conversation took was a bit surprising. It was as if the girls had conspired to ratchet up the sexy that afternoon. I didn’t give it much thought then, but I wonder if they had not come to some agreement when the guys were out of earshot. In relationships, women have a way of actively deciding what they want, while we men kind of just blunder along. In any event, things got interesting that afternoon.

Referring to Katie’s previous denial, Darren chuckled, “Katie, you two are just as bad as either Max or me. I have caught you both gawking at some man parts on the beach. We all check each other out, it is only natural. It is hard to ignore naked flesh. Let’s just agree that we are all voyeurs from time to time.”

At that point Margo decided to fuck with him, “So Darren, you admit to your a being a bit of a voyeur. Have you checked me out?”

He grinned sheepishly,

Katie twisted the noose tighter. “Yes, do tell Darren. Have you been checking out Margo?”

Margo pretended confusion. “We are on a nude beach, everything is right there to see… Unless… you haven’t been trying to peek at my vajayjay have you?

Darren shrugged, “A man has to do what a man has to do.”
In mock indignation, Margo protested. “If I knew you were checking me out, I would’ve been more careful about keeping my legs crossed.”

He chuckled and boldly answered, “I think you knew, it’s not like I was all that subtle… it’s too late to worry about it anyway, I’ve got every detail of you locked in my memory.”

Katie admonished him. “Darren, behave!’

Daren looked at me to see if he had gone too far. I laughed, “It’s a nude beach, you see what you see.”

Margo upped the ante, “So I made an impression on you, huh? Maybe I should send a picture home with you to remember me by.” As she said this, she partially turned toward Darren and leaned back in her chair. Although the table blocked my view of her lower body, from her posture and Darren’s his expression, I was pretty sure she had not crossed her legs, and she was giving him an eye full.

It surprised me. Margo could be brash, even a little flirty, but this was over-the-top even for her. My cute little wife was brazenly exposing herself at another man. Even Darren was taken back.

Katie and Margo exchanged a meaningful glance and broke out laughing. Apparently, they had exchanged notes about me and Darren’s not too subtle voyeuristic tendencies. If they were teaching us a lesson, it was an interesting one.

A broad grin broke out on Darren’s face. “Now, there’s a picture I would look at and worship often.”

He then looked at me, “that is if it’s all right with Max.”

The idea of Darren drooling over a naked picture of Margo suddenly had struck me as sort of hot; plus turn about was fair play. I replied, “fine by me, but how about the girls both pose together, and we each get a picture to, how d’you put it, worship.”
I remember getting high fived by Darren like we were two school kids. He said, “Done, we both get naked pictures!”

Katie groaned, “Slow down horn dogs. This is getting a little too kinky.”

I remember feeling suddenly flush. “I am sorry Katie; I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Darren emek escort bent over and kissed Katie on the cheek. “Don’t let her fool you, posing for a nudie picture would not be close to the kinkiest thing she’s ever done.”

I liked where the conversation was going. “Hmmm. I want to hear this…. Maybe you can tell us what it was like getting that tattoo.”

Katie playfully smacked my arm, “I see where you’ve been looking. You are as bad as Darren.”

I am not sure if she was mimicking Margo’s bawdiness, or if teaching Darren a lesson, but to my astonishment she nonchalantly turned in her chair, uncrossed her legs, and used her fingers to stretch the skin where the tattoo sat. She coyly asked, “so, do you like my little rose?”

It surprised me that Margo flashed Darren, but it was at least in keeping with her character. But I had Katie pegged as a bit shy. Maybe she was trying to keep up with Margo, or maybe I just had misjudged her. Either way, I was gob smacked at her blatant invitation to stare at her pussy.

I helplessly peered for a few seconds and finally blurted out, “I like the whole garden.”

Fuck, I still can’t believe I said that. I might just as well have said, “gee, I like your snatch.”

Katie crossed her legs and laughed. “Thanks… funny, you should say that. I call it my secret garden. You should feel privileged. Besides Darren, you are the first man I ever showed it to.”

I so wanted to ask her if I could stop and smell the roses but thought better of it.

Margo saved me. “So is getting the tattoo your wild story.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but the tattoo artist was a woman, and it was all very clinical and professional.”

Darren shook his head. “She can do better than that. Tell them about Mike.”

As the saying goes, if looks could kill Darren would be toast. “no freaking way.”

As only married couples can, they had a rapid conversation with only eyes and posture. There was a tension that sprung up like a summer storm.

To change the mood, I quipped, “if this was truth or dare, you would have to take off some clothing for not sharing.”

I thought it cute as we were all on a nude beach. She seemed to welcome the change of topic.

She laughed, “okay, I guess I will have to show you my boobs.”

With that, she stood up, turned, and leaned forward so that her tits were a few inches from my face and shook them. “I like this game!” I said.

No doubt about it, Katie was flirting, plus it was an effective distraction from Darren’s challenge.

Darren would not let her off the hook that easily. “If you don’t tell the story, I will.”

Katie looked at him defiantly and extended her middle finger. “If you do, I will tell them about Donna.”

Margo came to Katie’s aid. She said, “oh, so Darren has secrets too. Let’s hear it big boy.”

The shoe was on the other foot and Darren looked pensively at Margo. “I would, but the truth is the story kind of makes me sound like a dick, and I’m a little embarrassed.”

Margo’s eyes fixed on Darren. “Now, I have to hear it.”

I pointed out, “Hey, we’ve all been an asshole at least once, and when it comes to sex, we all end up doing some embarrassing stuff at one point or another. The world is full of two kinds of people, those who do outrageous sex stuff, and those who wish they had when they had the chance.”

Margo urged him on, “come on, Darren, give it up. They’ll never be a better time to tell a sex story; you’re among friends, and you probably will never see us again, anyway. Plus, we are all naked, we have litteraly nothing to hide.”

Margo took Darren’s hand in the added with an impish grin, “if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

Darren returned the grin, “ah, you showed me yours a few seconds ago.”

Margo shot back, “Then I guess you owe me. We will all do a naughty confession if you do.”

Darren looked at each of us, “no judgment?”

In unison, we all said, “no judgment.”

Darren shrugged, “when I was in my early 20s, I was a groomsman in one of my buddies wedding. His name was Barry, and he and his fiancée Donna had been dating since secondary school. Anyway, when we were still in school, Donna and I ended up making out at a party. We got interrupted when we heard Barry looking for us. It was no big deal; we were just kids fooling around. So fast forward 3 years, we are all at the church just before their wedding. My girlfriend was one of the bridesmaids, and she came up to me and said that Donna needed me to do her a favor.”

Katie interrupted, “to be clear, I was not the girlfriend in this little adventure.”

Darren nodded, “right, my girlfriend not named Katie, told me that Donna needed me to do her a favor. I asked what it was, and she said she did not know. So, I headed to the back of the church to the prep room. I knocked on the door and heard Donna tell me to come in. I pretty much expected the bridesmaids to be with her, but she was all alone standing there in a white bathrobe. I remember her wedding gown was lying on the chair next to her.”

Darren shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

He continued, “I asked her what she needed. And she stood there for eryaman escort a few seconds, shifting her weight uneasily from 1 foot to the other. She finally asked me if I remembered that night at the party. Nervously, I told her yes, and it was fun. I remember that she looked almost petrified, and I kind of assumed it was because she was about to get married. What came next was a complete shock. She said we had some unfinished business; and that she loved Barry, but always had a bit of a crush on me. She told me she would be married in a little bit and that since Barry was the only man she’d been with this was her last chance for something new.”

Margo interrupted him, “are you fucking kidding me?”

Darren shrugged, “Nope. She dropped her robe and was standing there in just white lace panties. She told me she really wished that we had not been interrupted that night, and that she wanted to get it out of her system before she got married. And so, I ended up fucking my buddy’s bride-to-be in the back of the church, 30 minutes before the wedding.”

Margo snickered, “You dog!”

Katie finished her husband’s story. “And get this, Barry still doesn’t know, and we still see them socially every now and again.”

Darren added, “yeah, it was not my best moment. I still feel a little guilty, but I have to admit I enjoy the memory.”

I asked, “This really happened? It is not some sort of sex fantasy?”

Katie laughed, “Oh ya, it happened. The 3 of us talked about it once.” She added, “I keep a close eye on Donna when they visit.”

Darren, then looked at Katie, “okay, I’ve bared my soul, now it’s your turn baby.”

Katie made a motion with her hands that signaled capitulation. She said, “what the fuck.”

She leaned back in her chair and cocked 1 foot on the edge of my chair. There was that rose again. She began telling her story.

“My first year at grad school, me and my boyfriend went to a keg party at a nearby lake. When we got back to his apartment, we were both a little drunk and pretty horny. His roommate, Michael, was there. Michael and I barely knew each other and had hardly ever spoken. The fact of the matter was he did not make a good impression, and I didn’t like him much. He was just sort of a jerk, and he sure wasn’t much to look at. So anyway, there’s Michael parked in a chair watching some movie that was pretty much soft-core porn. Boyfriend and I plopped down on the couch with a blanket over us and started watching. We were already kind of horny, and the movie sort of added to it. Soon my guy is stroking my leg under the blanket, and before long, his hand was in my pants. We started kissing, and he really started getting me worked up. It felt so naughty fooling around with his roommate sitting right next to us.”

At this, Katie hid her face in her hands and said, “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

In exasperation, I said, “don’t stop now; this is getting good.”

She glanced at my turgid member and smiled suggestively, “I can see that.”

The fact that the usually reserved Katie was telling a racy story was hot; that we were both naked was really getting to me.

Katie continued, “while we were making out, I looked over at Michael, expecting him to be at least acting like he was ignoring us. He wasn’t; rather, he was blatantly watching us. I normally would have been embarrassed but for some reason it made me even hotter. When my boyfriend started pulling my blouse up, I should have stopped him and suggested we go to the bedroom. But for reasons I didn’t understand then or now, I wanted Michael to see me naked, so I just went with it. Five minutes later, I am completely naked, the cover is gone, and my boyfriend’s face is between my legs. I looked over at Michael, he had his cock out and was rubbing it. It was so fucking hot, a guy I barely knew was watching me and masturbating. Fuck, he was masturbating over me like I was some chick in a porno. I just lay there naked watching him jack off over me until he stood up and came over. He took my hand and put it on his cock. I started stroking, and then he started pushing my head toward his dick. I knew he wanted me to blow him. And I wanted to, but it felt a little creepy and scared me a little so I put a stop to what was going on. I tapped my boyfriend on the head, and I led him into the bedroom.”

Margo sighed, “Katie, that is sexy but a little bit anti-climactic.”

Darren chuckled, “oh, she’s not done yet.”

Katie added, “this is the embarrassing part. So we get into the bedroom, and I am hornier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I mean, I had never done anything like that before. The thing is, my boyfriend is so hot and bothered that he immediately jumps on me and goes at it like a wild man for maybe 10 minutes. I had never wanted sex so much in my life, and I was really close to cumming when he goes off. Unfortunately, after he came, the dumb ass just rolled over, and was sound asleep three minutes later. So now I am lying in bed next to a passed out drunk trying to finish myself off. While I was… you know, touching myself, I was thinking about Michael staring at me naked and stroking himself. The next thing I know, I’m walking back into the living room stark naked. Without saying a word, I walked over to Michael and pulled off his shorts. I grabbed his dick and put him in my mouth. When he got hard, I climbed on his lap, and we did each other for the next hour and a half. In that whole time, I don’t believe we ever said a word to each other.”

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Red and Whyte

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Dear readers.

This story is one I began a while ago and is really where the inspiration for the Two Switches came from. It is a step away from my normal stuff and is more of an emotional slow burn.

I want to thank Wax for the excellent proof reading so this story could be a surprise for my usual proof reader.

This is for you Sabina, you are my angel. Without you I am broken.


The Colt Anaconda looked exactly like what it was. The perfect tool for ending life. Forty-seven ounces of nickel plated metal with a 4-inch barrel and a moulded grip.

She opened the cylinder. Six holes beckoned, waiting to be filled.

She took a breath and slid the brass and lead cylinder in to one of the holes.

It slipped in with a precise click.

A deft hand movement closed the cylinder and spun it.

She thumbed back the hammer slowly.

Then placed the barrel in her mouth.

She tasted gun oil and the tangy copper of adrenaline, as her system began to pump the drug around her body in preparation for injury.

She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.


An empty chamber.

She breathed out.

“Guess you’re going out to work then.” She said aloud.

Every morning for the last month she had performed the same ritual.

Every morning the same result. She was the luckiest, unlucky person alive.

Some mornings a small part of her was glad. Others, not so.

Danielle Whyte had been low before, but this was a different level of low. PTSD and depression went hand in hand with members of the armed forces. Normally women didn’t serve on the fighting line, and to be fair Danielle wasn’t even meant to be in the midst of the action. As the pilot of a medivac Blackhawk, she would swoop in pick up injured and be out again before the Taliban knew she was there. And in the worst case the Apache escorts kept any anti-aircraft fire at bay.

Unfortunately, fate played its hand and the tail rotor of the Blackhawk had caught a stray burst on exfil. They had nearly made it out of the hot zone when the damage blade sheered and dropped the helicopter like a bag of stones. Her co-pilot, loadmaster and the injured marine didn’t survive the crash. That left herself and the Anaconda.

Fear is your enemy.

That is what the instructors tell you when you’re downed behind enemy lines.

As far as Danielle was concerned fear was her entire life at that point. Nothing else existed. Trapped inside the wrecked Blackhawk surrounded by the stink of jet fuel and the thoughts that Insurgents could be climbing over the wreckage any second were the only things in Danielle’s mind.

In reality the SAR was scrambled, and the gunships remained on over watch in case any of the Taliban got too close. She was never in any real danger. But for the three hours she was on the ground alone she had never been so afraid.

In those three hours Danielle discovered she was afraid of being alone.

This fear was exacerbated when she was returned to flying duty. Suffering from severe flashbacks and signs of PTSD Danielle was sent for a psychiatric evaluation. The subsequent failure coupled with the continual nightmares of the crash left her a total wreck, emotionally and physically, and she had to be invalided out of the forces.

That left her squarely where she was today. No money, no friends, unable to hold on to a job for more than a few weeks and worst of all, alone.

Every night was a repeat of the same nightmare. When she closed her eyes, she was instantly back in the wrecked helo. The smell of jet fuel would make her gag and the sound of bullets whining overhead would turn her insides to water. And always she was alone.

Just her and the Anaconda.

She made a move to replace the handgun in its box, then changed her mind. Maybe it was because the tiny room she rented was littered with empty vodka bottles and the stink of vomit, or maybe today was just worse than any other day.

She flipped the cylinder out again, the eye of the unused .44 stared at her. Slowly and deliberately she fed another five shells in to the cylinder and snapped it closed.

She eased the hammer back and placed the barrel in her mouth.

She pulled the trigger.


“What the fuck…?”

She opened the cylinder again. The six shells gleamed in their snug holes.

“If you keep doing that you’re going to make me really angry.”

The voice made Danielle freeze.

“Hey. Over here.”

Slowly she turned to where the voice had come from.

In the corner of the shitty one room apartment sat a young woman. Pale skin, with heavy black eye make-up, short spiked red hair, torn denim jeans, a biker jacket and short ankle boots. Not catwalk attractive, but certainly not ugly. Her hand cradled a cigarette which curled smoke upwards towards the paint peeling the ceiling.

The Anaconda swung around to point at the redhead.

“Seriously. You’ve been pulling that trigger for a month escort dikmen and haven’t blown your head off yet. What makes you think it’s going to do anything now?”

Out of panic Danielle pulled the trigger.

The noise in the small room was deafening. The magnum charge spat flame as the .44 slug tore towards the woman sat on the room’s only chair.

The woman frowned at Danielle impatiently as the smoke from the weapon discharge cleared.

“That was just to show you they’re not dud shells.” She said as she opened her clenched fist and dropped the copper jacketed slug to the floor.

“Now are you going to put that down a listen to what I have to say? This is really against the rules and I’m in serious shit when I get back.”

“Are you my imagination?” Danielle asked almost convinced she was hallucinating.

“No, I am real, my name is Redieal, and I am sick of watching you trying to end your life.”

The room spun around Danielle and everything went black.


A pin point of light entered her mind and slowly grew in to the morning sun trying to force its way through the dirty window.

Danielle was lying on the floor. The smell of the filthy rug assailed her nostrils making her want to heave.

Then she remembered the strange red head woman.

The chair in the corner of the room was empty, as was the rest of the room.

Shaking her head Danielle stood up. That had got to be the most vivid dream she had ever experienced. She could even smell the cordite from the round she had fired.

Stooping she retrieved the handgun from where it had fallen when she passed out. No doubt due to lack of anything solid entering her stomach in days. She worked the catch and emptied the shells. Five heavy bumps and one light jingle sounded as the five unused rounds and the one spent cartridge bounced off the floor.

Danielle frozen as she watched the brass cylinder roll across the floor.

She had inadvertently fired the pistol in her dream. Her stomach heaved again. The walls of the building were paper thin and with the magnum charge a .44 could easily go through two or three of the apartments.

Eyes rapidly scanned the walls searching for a tell tail bullet hole and finding none.

Maybe she had loaded a spent shell by accident?

Although that would explain everything, including why she hadn’t managed to actually kill herself, but somewhere inside her she knew she had loaded six live shells.

She crossed the room to replace the Anaconda back in its case. Kicking something as she did so.

Frowning she looked down to see a copper jacket slug that looked as though it had been dug out of a Kevlar jacket.

This time when her stomach heaved she couldn’t keep from vomiting. For what seemed an eternity she wretched, bringing nothing up but air and bile. Tears stung her eyes as she tried to stand up.

Had she imagined it?

Possibly. She had spent the last six months trying to drink herself to death with vodka that tasted more like turpentine, so it wasn’t surprising that she was imagining things.

But where had the slug come from?

That one she couldn’t answer.

Danielle crossed to the chair. It was still the same chair it had always been. Cheap crappy wood that could barely support her skinny frame. There was an odd scent of a perfume she didn’t recognise and a small amount of cigarette ash on the floor.

The image of the young woman flashed in to her mind once more. The lithe figure in tight denims and black makeup smoking a cigarette.

For a brief second, she was back in the Blackhawk as it spun in to the ground. Danielle rested heavily on the wall to steady herself. She really needed some fresh air.

After some gentle persuasion Danielle got the small window open, breathing deeply she gulped in air, trying hard not to be sick again.

In the side street below the lone figure of the redhead propped against a mailbox, a plume of cigarette smoke dispersing in to the breeze.

A steady thud beat in Danielle’s chest as her heart pulsed wildly. She had to speak to this woman and find out just who she was.

The apartment door banged open and Danielle half ran and half stumbled down the stairs to the street door.

The redhead had gone.

Or maybe she wasn’t there in the first place.

Danielle turned to re-enter her building. A flash of red caught her eye.

Around twenty meters further along the street was the woman.

What did she say her name was? Radial or something? Fuck it, Red will do for now.

Danielle started out after her forcing her way between the pedestrians heading towards her. No matter what Danielle did she was always the same distance behind. Even if she came to a crossing the Redieal was on the far side.

The crowds grew thicker as they crossed on to West 8th and in to areas Danielle hadn’t travelled since her fall from grace. She didn’t even know why she was following the woman. There was just something escort elvankent compelling Danielle to speak to her.

Finally, the redhead halted by the 7th Street metro entrance. She turned to face Danielle and briefly their eyes met.

The elusive woman winked sassily then was swallowed by the crowd.

Swearing Danielle reached the corner and stepped inside the metro station. As she descended, every turn Danielle made Redieal was just turning the one ahead of her. She reached a platform just in time to see Redieal enter a stationary train.

Danielle sprinted for a door and squeezed through just as they closed.

As the train pulled away Danielle glanced around the crowded car until she spotted the familiar face staring at her from by the doors at the opposite end of the car. With no clear route to get to her Danielle decided to just watch for when she got off.

She remembered Redieal to look a little different in the apartment the face more rounded and softer. Now she could see that she had high cheek bones and slightly slanted eyes, an odd combination for a Caucasian. She could be Eastern European, maybe even Russian.

Danielle’s heart leapt. Maybe she was a spy and intended to kidnap her for military secrets.

Then common sense broke through. What use was she to any spy ring? There must be something she was missing. If she could just speak to her for a minute.

The train stopped at a station. Danielle glanced out to see where they were.

Jefferson Park. Where ever Redieal was going it was in the direction of Santa Monica. Totally out of Danielle’s stomping grounds.

She glanced back. Redieal was smiling at her in an annoyingly smug way.

They broke out in to bright sunshine and the train stopped at several more stations. The crowd in the car ebbed and flowed but remained packed shoulder to shoulder.

Once more the train slowed. Santa Monica Place. Last stop.

Redieal winked again and stepped out of the doors as they opened, and the train emptied. Danielle followed suit trying to keep her eyes on the red hair bobbing like flotsam on the human tide.

Slowly the platform cleared.

Redieal stood at one end, one hand lighting the cigarette in her mouth and the other jammed in to jacket pocket.

Danielle walked slowly towards her expecting her to make a break on to the street at any moment.

A few meters to go. Redieal blew out a cloud of smoke then pointed to one side.

Drawn by the gesture Danielle look to where she pointed.

A woman pushing a stroller whilst holding the hand of a young child approached an intersection.

Danielle glanced back to Red frowning at the distraction. Red was pointing elsewhere. Once again Danielle allowed her gaze to look away.

A tow truck that was winching a car up made a loud screech then a bang and the car began to roll backwards.

Danielle watched the car picking up speed. Then glanced back at the woman. It didn’t take a genius to realise the two were going to meet.

The smell of jet fuel came back to haunt Danielle followed quickly by the horrible feeling of being alone.

Her heart beating faster than she had ever known it Danielle knew what she would do to solve everyone’s problems.

Time to go down in a blaze of glory.

Without a second thought she hurdled the platform barrier and on to the road. A horn blared as a car swerved to avoid her.

The woman with the stroller looked up to see the dishevelled mess of Danielle running towards her. Confused she turned away from the edge of the sidewalk, putting herself and the stroller out of danger, but placing the young child directly in the path of the runaway car.

Danielle screamed as she snatched the youngster in to her arms.

The car hit her squarely and lifted her on to the hood. There was a sickening thud as she collided with the windshield and flew sideways back on to the road

She was vaguely aware of someone screaming as she looked down to see the child held protectively in her arms looking at her blinking.

“You smell bad.” The child said as the world began faded away.


A voice drifted through the darkness. “It’s okay you can open your eyes now.”

Slowly Danielle opened her eyes. Redieal was stood in front of her. A proud expression etched on her face.

“I knew it was still inside you somewhere.” Red was saying.

“What are you talking about?” Danielle asked. “More to the point just who are you?”

A half smile danced on her lips. It looked oddly very sexy.

“My name is Redieal. I am an Angel. A Guardian Angel to be precise. I was assigned to watch over you, and I have been doing so since you were born. All humans have a birth date and a death date, and our job is to ensure that the course of events are followed as ordained. I have watched you grow up and I have protected you when the need has arisen. I have seen you reach the climax of your life and now the deepest regions of your escort emek depression. I could no longer sit idly by and watch your pain.”

Danielle glanced around her not believing what she was hearing.

That was when she saw her own body lying in a pool of blood on the road side. The woman with the stroller screaming and the young child tottering towards its mother.

An ambulance screeched to a halt dispensing an EMT to Danielle’s body.

A feeling of serenity drifted across Danielle. “Am I dead?” She asked Redieal.

“You’re standing on the bridge between life and afterlife. A step either way will decide.”

In that moment Danielle wanted nothing more than to stay with the curious Redieal, something about her was reassuring and comforting. It made Danielle feel complete and importantly, not alone.

She reached out a hand towards Redieal.


A jolt of bright light flashed across her vision as the image of Redieal was snatched away.


Darkness ebbed away, slowly bringing light. Danielle’s eyes flickered open. A white ceiling ran in to white walls lined with medical equipment. A stab of anguish flared. Redieal had gone, and she was alone once more.

Then she smelled something.

An odd perfume mixed in with cigarette smoke.

“I will never leave your side Danielle. You have many lives to save including the most important person in the world.” Redieal whispered in her ear.

The feeling of comfort and reassurance drifted back, and Danielle closed her eyes smiling for the first time in a long while.


“Do you feel up to a visitor?” The nurse asked as she helped Danielle sit up.

Although she felt like saying ‘no’ Danielle nodded knowing she would have to face people other than the hospital staff at some point.

The visitor introduced himself as Karl Stevens one of the directors of a company called LASTAR (Los Angeles Surgical Trauma Air Recovery). Apparently one of their air ambulances had flown Danielle to the hospital and therefore helped save her life.

Danielle tried to pay attention, but the image of Redieal kept flickering through her mind, it was almost as if she was trying to tell her something but try as she might Danielle just couldn’t quite make it out.

“It was touch and go for a while.” Karl was telling her. “But I am glad we managed to keep you alive. We were quite surprised to find out you were a medivac pilot. Anyhow just before I go my daughter wanted to say thank you.”

The door opened and the woman who had been pushing the stroller appeared holding the hand of the child Danielle had saved from the runaway car.

Danielle felt something click as though a part of her life that had been missing fell in to place.

“We honestly can’t thank you enough.” Karl was saying again. “When you get out of hospital give me a call, I would be honoured if you would come and fly for us.”

As Danielle closed her eyes she was sure she heard Redieal’s voice. “Always at your side Danielle.”


Flight team Delta sat outside the ready room enjoying the morning sun. Danielle had been flying with the two medics and the co-pilot for nearly six days. It was strange to say the least. While many of her fears had evaporated since her ‘meeting’ with Redieal, she knew there were still parts of her broken life that required fixing.

She just had to find the missing parts first.

The team had treated her like one of their own from the start and she found herself enjoying the job and the company, but she remained distant from them, unable to fully integrate. No matter how complete her life felt, she knew there was still a piece missing.

Absently Danielle lit a cigarette and breathed a plume of smoke in to the air. She had started smoking when she was discharged from the hospital. She found the smell of the smoke reminded her of Redieal and it brought a hint of hope that she would see her again one day.

One of the medics a fellow LA guy called Joe was talking to one of the flight mechanics about something unimportant.

Then Danielle heard her name mentioned.

“It’s true honestly. She jumped in front of a moving car and snatched the kid up taking the full hit herself. A buddy was the onsite medic, he said that her left lung was punctured from two broken ribs and a shard of bone was within millimetres of shredding her heart. For her to be still alive is a miracle.”

Danielle didn’t hear the mechanic’s reply.

“I kid you not she must have zero fear. When she flies she’s in total control, I’ve never seen a pilot like her.” Joe answered.

She sat up in her chair and mashed the cigarette in to an ashtray. “Joe there are only two types of people in this world.” she told him staring through the mirrored lenses of her sunglasses. “Those who are afraid and those who are too stupid to realise they are afraid.”

“Is it true that you flew medivac in Afghanistan?” The second medic, a woman called Anna joined the conversation.

This was exactly why Danielle didn’t enter in to discussions during their downtime. Too many questions about things she either didn’t want to explain or couldn’t explain. She settled for nodding as she touched a flame to another smoke, knowing too well what question was going to follow.

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It’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m lying in bed next to my boyfriend Mitchell Voltaire. Watching him sleep. When he’s awake, he’s really something. Six feet two inches tall and two hundred and forty pounds of hard-bodied black man. A force to be reckoned with. He’s come through for Southeastern Massachusetts University’s football team time and again as they played against their fiercest rivals on the gridiron. Asleep, though. He’s something else. He looks vulnerable, and beautiful. There he is, the love of my life.

There, I said it. My name is Wendy Monpoint. A Haitian-American Amazon who stands five feet eleven inches tall when barefoot. I’m quite curvy, even voluptuous, and damn proud of it. I’ve got face. I’ve got chest. And I’ve got ass. I’m a real woman, and damn proud of it. My skin is dark brown, and I’ve recently cut my hair in the style Halle Berry had in the X-Men movies. Mine isn’t dyed, though. If you can’t handle a strong black woman who stands up for herself and loves her man, then this story isn’t for you. I’m on an academic scholarship at Southeastern Massachusetts University. I was there when it was still a women’s college. Now it’s changed. So much has changed. Including me. I fell in love with a man. And tonight I’ve done some terrible things to protect him…from himself.

Something came for him in the mail earlier. Something which shocked me to my core. A membership card from the Bisexual People of Color Network. B.P.C.N. The envelope had been rerouted from the Randolph post office. Apparently, someone forgot to go pick it up. I checked them out online. What I found amazed me. They were an organization made up of bisexual men and bisexual women from New England. Mostly Blacks and Latinos, with a few Asians and Middle-Easterners. Wow. My boyfriend Mitchell…one of them.

It is not that big a shock. Doesn’t bother me. I’m not mad. I just wish he’d trusted me enough to tell me he’s bisexual, though. Looking back, I have seen it coming. I met Mitchell during Freshman Orientation Day at SMU in August of 2007. He’s always been such a loud, outspoken and manly guy. I noticed that about him right away. It made him stand out. He was an incoming freshman, a recent graduate of Brockton Community High School. I was a sophomore at the time, and I worked for the Admissions Office. It was my duty to show this new batch of freshmen the campus. I noticed that there were a lot of men in this batch. Lots of young black men. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

When I started college back in 2006, Southeastern Massachusetts University was known as Southeastern Massachusetts College. It was one of a few all-female Catholic schools left in New England. I chose SMC over Wellesley College because lots of black and Hispanic women who chose single-sex education went there. I’d already gone to an all-white and all-female private school. I didn’t want a repeat of the experience. I needed diversity where I lived, thank you very much. However, turning my all-female school suddenly coed wasn’t my idea of diversity. That was pushing it a bit too far.

While I gave them the tour, one of the young men kept asking a lot of pointed questions. When I showed them the Women’s Center, he asked whether there was also a Men’s Center. Truth be told, there was one in the works as mandated by the school’s new president, Dr. Joanna Bartleby, but I didn’t need to be reminded of it. It was one of those changes on campus which I didn’t like very much. The campus was coed. Did the administration dikmen escort bayan have to rub it in my face? My eyes narrowed to slits and zeroed in on the smirking guy who was being a smart ass. It was none other than Mitchell, the big and tall black guy from Brockton.

I told him that the school didn’t feel a Men’s Center was necessary at the moment, but in future time one might be added if students felt the need for it. He crossed his arms and stared pointedly at me, saying this was gender-based discrimination. The other guys in the group smirked. Some of the young women nodded, while a few rolled their eyes. I gave Mitchell an icy glare, then continued with the tour. Yeah, even back then he had a habit of getting under my skin. Little did I know that our fates were entwined.

I finished the tour, then went back to my dorm. I lived in Madeline Hall, the last all-female dorm on campus. It housed three hundred occupants. The other eight dorms buildings, from my beloved Stetson Hall to the Baxter Esplanade had all gone coed. Here and there, young men were moving their stuff into the dorms as their doting moms and dads looked on. A few female students who had been around as long as I have watched them, perplexed and stunned. It was easy for me to see which gals were new to the campus, and which ones weren’t. The new ones just went about their business, sometimes openly flirting with the young men while the young women who were at the school before it became guy-land kept staring at them. The guys didn’t pick up on it.

Yeah, this was promising to be a terrific school year. I was the captain of the Women’s Rugby team and true to form, I went to practice with my teammates. Coach Jocelyn Stony, a tall, sturdy redhead in her mid-forties told us that we would have to share the stadium with the incoming football team. We had a new practice schedule. I couldn’t believe this shit! The women’s rugby team of Southeastern Massachusetts University was one of the oldest in the NCAA. We’d been around since 1973. And now these jocks who had come from Lord-knew-where had been allowed to cut in on our practice time? Hell no! I stormed into athletic director Mariah Smith’s office, launching vigorous protests. She told me that there was nothing she could do.

I wasn’t the only female student-athlete who felt bothered by the changes in scheduling practices. Athletes from the women’s soccer, women’s equestrian, women’s archery, women’s synchronized swimming, women’s wrestling, women’s Track & Field, women’s cycling, women’s skiing, women’s water polo, women’s rowing, women’s field hockey, women’s Ice Hockey, women’s volleyball, women’s swimming, women’s cross country and women’s gymnastics teams were all affected. We all had to adjust. We would have a fixed schedule for using the Field House, the Weight Rooms and the Swimming pool. All due to the new regulations. The women’s basketball team would have the gym for two hours each day. The new men’s basketball team would use it for the same amount of time, but in the late afternoons.

Change had come to the campus. Southeastern Massachusetts University now fielded men’s varsity teams in baseball, basketball, cross country, volleyball, water polo, wrestling, track & field, golf, tennis, football, gymnastics, swimming, Ice Hockey and soccer. Men made up forty nine percent of the student body as of September 2007. Thanks to some traitor in the administration, the school was now coed. Life on campus would never be the same. I didn’t elvankent escort bayan like it. And if the guys thought I would simply bow down and let them run things, they had another thing coming.

I wasn’t too pleased about what had been done to my campus. Don’t get me wrong. I got nothing against male athletes. But why did they have to come to SMU and take it away from us? They got their pick of athletic powerhouses in local schools like Boston College, Northeastern University and UMass-Amherst. Women’s colleges were created to insure that women got a fair shake in education. I think we’ve come a long way but we’re not quite there yet. I advocate single-sex education for young women, and for young men if they feel it’s needed. Separate but equal works fine for me. Men and women didn’t need to be in each other’s faces all day.

Yet one man was destined to get in my face. Mitchell Voltaire. As it turns out, the football player was in many of my classes. He was a Psychology major. One of the two hundred men who enrolled in the six-hundred-person program. He sat next to me in my Psychology of Deviance class. We were having a grand old time discussing male aggression and female victimization in society and how the media affects the outcome of criminal trials and Mitchell constantly had his hand up. At last, the teacher let him speak. With a smirk on his face, he told the class that he thought the whole discussion was gender-biased. According to him, female criminals were the fastest-growing group among all inmates and they preyed on both male and female victims.

I shook my head, this guy had some nerve. Amazingly, the teacher agreed with him. I raised my hand in protest. I told the class that while female criminals did exist, males still made up the bulk of those incarcerated. The young women in the class nodded in agreement. The guys had a blank look on their faces. Most of them looked distracted. Mitchell smiled confidently, and cited some rather infamous cases. He mentioned Aileen Wuornos, the female serial killer from Florida. And that woman in Texas who killed her offspring and got off with an insanity plea. He also mentioned the incidence of female teachers having sexual relations with their pupils. Including the blonde one who was all over the news because she was a repeat offender. The class stared at Mitchell. He just smirked. And amazingly, the teacher agreed with him. She said that sometimes, women did get away with crimes far easier than their male counterparts did. The class was agreeing with Mitchell! They were even clapping. I didn’t see that one coming, folks.

In spite of myself, I admired him. Maybe Mitchell wasn’t just some jock. He was definitely smarter than I initially gave him credit for. I underestimated him. It’s a mistake I wouldn’t make again. At least that’s what I told myself. As I walked to the campus library to prepare for my next class, I heard someone hollering at me. Turning around, I gasped. It was literally the last person I’d expect. The infamous Mitchell Voltaire, big man on campus. What did he want now? Seeing the look on my face, Mitchell smiled and held his hands up. He told me he came in peace. I stared at him through narrowed eyes. What did he want? Still smiling, he told me he wanted to talk. Apparently, he liked the way I thought, and thought he could enlighten me about a few things. As if. Nevertheless, I was intrigued so I let him walk me to the library.

We sat at a table, and for the next hour, we were emek escort bayan arguing nonstop. Mitchell had a lot of opinions on a lot of issues, ranging from racial and gender bias in the law to collegiate politics and the state of the economy in America. He was wrong about a lot of things, of course, but I admired his passion. We agreed on a few things, surprisingly. We both thought more black men and black women should go to college instead of winding up in prison or becoming parents before they’re financially and mentally ready for it. As I talked to Mitchell, I began to get a different picture of him. There was more to this guy than meets the eye. We really got into it, to the point that I almost ended up being late to my Criminology class. It was clear across campus, and I’d missed the student bus. Mitchell felt guilty, and offered me a ride there. I hesitated. I didn’t get into cars with guys I didn’t know. Even guys who looked and talked like him. Still, I didn’t want to be late to my next test. So I took him up on his offer.

Mitchell owned a bright red BMW which he claimed had been given to him by his mother Beatrice as a graduation present. As we drove to the Humanities building, Mitchell told me about his family. He spoke warmly of his mother, Beatrice L’Heureux Monpoint, whom he told me was a tax attorney. Apparently, she owned her own firm. He also mentioned his younger brother Joseph, who played football for Cardinal Spellman High School. When I asked about his father, Mitchell told me he was a cop, and wouldn’t go on. It was apparently a sore subject with him so I didn’t press. We arrived at the Humanities building, and I got out. He wished me luck with my test, waved and drove away. As I walked to class, I couldn’t help but take a last look as he drove away. Who was that guy underneath it all?

The next time I saw Mitchell, it was the next day, right before I went to Rugby practice. The other women were waiting for me. I saw Mitchell walking near the field house, pacing while talking on his cell phone. He looked worried. I approached him, just to say a quick hello. I hadn’t seen him in class earlier. He said hey when he saw me, then asked me if I could text him the homework assignments. Apparently, he had lost his syllabus and hadn’t come to class because of an emergency. When I asked him what kind of an emergency, he told me that his mother had been taken to the Boston Medical Center. Apparently, there had been an incident during court. He had to get there, and make sure she was alright. Mitchell looked scared, and worried sick. I had never seen him like this, in the short time that I knew him. I don’t know why, but for some reason I felt like helping him. I offered to come with him to the BMC. I’d text him the homework assignment later. Mitchell seemed surprised by my decision. I told him us black folks had to stick together. He stared at me for a moment, smiled, then said okay. When my teammate Melissa, a tall and muscular blonde Irishwoman told me I was needed at rugby practice, I told her I had an emergency. She said okay, she’d tell coach for me. Then Mitchell and I went to the parking lot.

We got into his car, and drove away. Leaving the SMU campus, we soon left the town of Randolph and got onto the highway. The Boston Medical Center is located at the heart of Boston. It’s a few miles away. For most of the ride, I was silent. Mitchell did most of the talking. He was worried about his mother. He swore that if anything happened to her, he’d deck somebody. I sat next to him, telling him to relax. Hopefully, his mother was okay and it was nothing serious. I couldn’t believe what I was doing. Ditching rugby practice to accompany some guy I barely knew to the hospital to check up on his mother. I didn’t know it then but looking back, I should have known. Love makes you do crazy things…

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Keith was the doctor who had performed my vasectomy. I was 29 years old. At that age, he wanted to satisfy himself that I had considered it carefully. At the time he questioned me, and eventually we became close acquaintances. Keith would have seen my penis after I had my injection to put me to sleep. He may have handled it to move it out of the way, but on that cold morning it would have been about only 3 or 4 centimetres long, a far cry from its 20 centimetres when aroused.

Julie and Keith had similarities in their adolescences. At age 20, Keith had his first sexual experience. Donelle, a friend of his mother had seduced him while he had been helping her with odd jobs in her back yard. He was attracted to her cheeky sense of humour and always had a bit of fun with her when she came to visit. He was pleased to be asked to help her out in any way he could.

Donelle watched him finish raking leaves and adding them to the compost bin. As he put away the rakes she talked to him while she removed her clothes and stepped naked into the outdoor spa. He stood there with his jaw dropped and his eyes wide open. She and asked him to join her. By the time he stepped into the spa, his cock was rigid, large and erect.

After feeling each other for 20 minutes, she stepped back out holding his hand.

She said, ‘You can fuck me if you like Keith. I planned this before you even got here.’

They did exactly that over the next 90 minutes. He slid his cock into her from 5 different positions, each of which she seemed to know when to slow the pace during his build up, They finished with the traditional missionary position with Donelle lying spreadeagled on the ground.

As she was building to her climax, Keith was fucking her faster and faster.

She gasped, ‘This is my treat Keith. Really go for it. You’re making me come.’

It was a great start to his sex life. He was surprised how long he lasted after the build up and Donelle’s expert pacing in the spa and out of it. He thought he would come as soon as he touched her, but he finished up fucking her like a missionary for nearly ten minutes with the happy ending of his shuddering climax.


Julie, a librarian had her first experience at 18 when she and Michele, one of her friends decided to get friendly with the college gardener, after their school sports day.

It was a hot day and Robert Jacobsen, the thirty eight year old gardener agreed to drive close friends, Julie and Michelle, home after netball training. Michelle sat alone in the back seat while her friend Julie was in the front. Julie put her hand on the gardener’s leg and started probing for his cock.

She asked him, ‘What he would like to do to us?’

He was shocked and couldn’t come up with an appropriate answer.

Then Julie said, ‘Michelle likes giving head. Would you mind if she tasted your prick Robert?’

He drove his car into an empty car park near a golf course and said, ‘Let’s go for a little walk. I know a place where I keep losing my golf balls. No one else ever goes there’.

They all got out of the car and climbed through a fence and Robert led the girls along a used path and found a clearing among some trees. They all sat on the grass and Robert laid back and laced his hands behind his head so that anything that happened was at the instigation of Michelle and Julie.

He said ‘You’re both too young for this.’

Julie said, ‘If you don’t, someone else will. We don’t want to be the last virgins in our class.’

Michele beckoned Julie out of Robert’s hearing and whispered to her. They both removed their nickers and returned to Robert taking a hand each and squatted over his hands so that his fingers could reach both of their vaginas simultaneously. He began to probe his fingers concentrating firstly on Michele with his left hand. When he located her opening, he focused on Julie with his right hand. She was wet before he had even begun. His penis responded immediately and hardened as his hands affected both girls.

Michele reached over and opened the studs on his khaki overalls and exposed his swollen dikmen escort member, without removing her little snatch form his hand. Julie moved away from his hand but only to install her cunt over his face and manoeuvre it into a position where his tongue could get maximum penetration into her dewy hole.

He removed his fingers from Michele’s cunt and spread Julies lips wide with his thumbs and Michele noticed his cock oozing a copious flow of love juice. Kneeling between his legs, she bent down and began licking his rampant prick, tasting the flow of thick oil and swallowing it down greedily. But she was turned on by the slurping sounds Robert was making sucking on Julie’e cunt.

‘I want a turn on your face Robert. Let Julie have your prick.’

Julie crawled away to let the gardener taste her friend’s juices, knowing what that talented tongue would do to her. She straddled his body with her back to her Michele. She spread her own pussy wide as Robert had done to her and slid his pulsing cock into the space between her nether lips. With some effort she eased her weight on to the gardener’s large cock, silently watching both her virginity and his swollen cock disappear up her cunt.

Michele began gasping at the sensations of his hungry mouth roughly assaulting her twitching vagina.

Then Julie moaned softly at the pain as her hymen was torn and her virginity was lost forever. She felt a triumph as his cock was reaming out her tight little opening. She watched as he jammed his swollen prick inside her so that only his large balls were at the entrance of her cunt. She thought she would never see such a primal vision in her life as his tight balls jammed up between her legs like that.

She raised and lowered her body up and down along the length of his cock while he greedily licked and sucked on Michele’s twitching cunt still with the taste of Julie’s cunt in his mouth.

Eventually, Julie removed herself and turned her back crying silently at her pain and loss of innocence, but she was pleased she could share it with her friend.

She returned to the scene watching Michele grinding her dripping sex onto Robert’s mouth.

She whispered to her friend, ‘Your turn Michele. I’ve done it.’

As Michele changed her position and lowered herself onto Robert’s blood streaked cock, she let out a loud scream as he penetrated her for the first time.

While Robert and Michelle continued fucking, Julie straddled him on her hands and knees, bent down and started kissing him salaciously, tasting Michele’s cunt juice with some of her own.

Robert started a long series of extended strained groans as he ejaculated into Michele’s twitching cunt. Michele was lightly rubbing Julie’s back and she responded by turning and kissing Michele’s mouth, which triggered her climax.

Then both of the girls took turns kissing Robert and each other while Robert kept fucking Michele for another 2 minutes. They stopped, lying exhausted in each other’s arms for another 5 minutes. Finally the girls stood up and asked to be driven home. Robert stood up and refastened his bloody overalls. He started up the car while the girls silently held hands in the back seat as they drove back to Julie’s house.


Both Julie and Keith had begun their sex lives with older partners. They had finally persuaded me that it was time to further their daughter’s education. I was their choice to initiate Jeanie, but what was more important, I seemed to be Jeanie’s choice.

I asked Julie, during coffee one day, ‘When she wanted me to begin?’

She answered. ‘Whenever you’re ready Harry.’

Not being one to procrastinate about these things, I left my untouched coffee on the table and knocked on Jeanie’s open bedroom door.

She was slowly swivelling her computer chair, sitting on one bare foot, gazing at the monitor screen. She was wearing light green cotton short shorts and a faded pink polo neck T shirt with ‘I want EVERYTHING’ printed on the front with a small sewn-on badge in the shape of a charging bull below the print.

‘Hi Jeanie. Whatcha elvankent escort doing?’

‘Playing Terminator. Want a game Harry?’

‘Never played before. Finish your game,’ I said, kneeling behind her swivel chair.

‘No! It’s OK. I’ve been expecting you to call soon.’

I was surprised and said, ‘Really! What have you been expecting?’

‘I don’t know. What do you want me to do?’ she asked my in an inquiring and innocent voice.

That was an invitation that aroused me just at the thought of playing around with her juicy bits. I was tongue-tied. Mostly this stuff is explored without speaking it first. I decided to continue with the verbal approach.

I spun her chair around so she was facing me, and I said ‘I’d like to feel you all over, then we’ll see what develops.’

‘That sounds very nice Harry.’

‘Good. If you want to finish your game of terminator, I’ll start without you,’ I said grinning from ear to ear.

She remained facing me, looking at me. I pulled on her T-shirt from above and below her breast and watched her nipple harden. Beautiful. Then repeated with her other tit. She didn’t seem to mind me staring openly at her hardening tits.

She stood up and I turned her around so she was facing away from me. She reached her hands back lightly ruffling my hair. My cock had hardened and I rubbed my misshapen shorts against her perky round arse cheeks.

Still with her back to me, she loosened my belt and unzipped my shorts and lowered them. I slid my penis back and forward between her legs on her small green shorts. She pushed her shorts and nickers down and I could feel the wetness between her aroused cunt lips with my rampant cock.

I played with her small round tits and she thrust her chest forward and her hips backward. Her firm arse was rubbing lightly on my upper thighs, arousing me even further. I stood there just enjoying the sexy action of the weeping lips on her swivelling hips.

I turned her around and led her to her bed and sat her on the edge, showing her my swollen cock.

‘What do you think you’re going to do with that monstrosity?’ she asked with a measure of panic in her eyes.

‘Put it only where you want me to Jeannie,’ I reassured her.

I pushed her gently back into a lying position. I lifted her legs upwards, spread them apart and told her to close her eyes.

‘Hold these out about here,’ I said placing her hands on her ankles and spreading them wide.

I hesitated for a full 20 seconds while I examined her small juicy cunt. The uncertainty in her mind continued to heighten her arousal. She didn’t know where she would be touched next or what with.

My cock was exuding a copious flow of pre cum. I smeared it onto my fingers and ran my fingertips through her cunt lips and mixed my juices with hers. I placed my hands on the inside of her thighs with my thumbs reaching inward to her labia and spread her wide open. Her opening seemed to be so small. I doubted if she could fit me inside her.

I made her wait for another minute.

What are you doing Harry? What are you going to do to me?’

I didn’t answer. She started trembling as I bent down and began lightly licking the wet flesh between her open cunt lips, just for fun. The taste of our fluids was delicious. She’d started whimpering even before I began licking her and I began grunting like an out of control wild dog, greedily licking and sucking and swallowing her cunt juice.

Soon her excitement was rising and my cock was pulsing urgently. As she was about to come I flattened my tongue and held it still against her clitoris. She began to twitch and I lost her clitoris. I don’t think it mattered. Her high-pitched squeal signalled her climax while I was still trying to locate her clit with my avid mouth.

After she recovered her breath, I moved her to the middle of the bed.

I said ‘This time, I’m going to start working on you again. If you get back in the same mood you were just in, I wouldn’t mind trying to fuck you.’

‘Only if you can fit it in, Harry,’ she said doubtfully, emek escort repositioning her-self on her bed.

I moved my cock to the entrance of her cunt and began to plough it through the juicy lips between her long legs.

Her response was increasing in intensity again and she was beginning to lose control. Before long, she gave into another climax raiding her helpless cunt.

She lay on her bed catching her breath and finally asked me, ‘Are you going to try and stretch me open, wide enough to get your cock in me Harry?’

I said, ‘Lift your legs up and bring them a bit closer together and try and relax. It will open you a little easier if you can.’

She said with a startled tone in her voice, ‘How could I be getting so turned on again this quickly? Just keep doing exactly what you’re doing and don’t stop unless you want me to kill you.’

She thrust her hips forward and tried to engulf the head of my selfish cock with her tight twitching little cunt. She let out a loud cry of pain that would have filled the house as well as those of both of her next-door neighbours.

She stopped moving as if totally exhausted and lay still for over a minute with the head of my swollen cock jammed up hard against to juicy but small opening framed by her stretched cunt lips.

Then she started up again twitching her cunt muscles increasing my arousal with each squeeze on my cock for about 90 seconds. I gradually eased one inch of my rampant cock into her.

She gasped out loud catching her breath. ‘Have you buried that huge thing inside me yet Harry?’ she asked me.

‘No. You have the tightest little cunt in creation. Look in the mirror,’ I told her.

With her knees close to her chest, and me hovering over her, she could see a swollen cock penetrating her drenched vagina, but still with another 7 inches to add to what was already inside her.

‘Are you fucking me with that?’

She had such a look of helpless innocence that I was torn between caution and uncontrolled fucking

I watched her face as I gradually slid my rampant cock about half way in, when I hesitated, then slowly all the way in. Her pain must have passed because I could feel her hips rising to meet mine.

‘Please don’t stop. It’s happening again,’ she squealed.

With about half of my cock in her, I could feel her cunt twitching. I quickly lost all control and started fucking her mercilessly like 2 pigs in a pen. We must have fucked each other for somewhere between two and twenty minutes. I lost all idea of time.

I exploded, squirting semen into her, groaning loudly. Spurt after spurt of cum gushed from my cock and finally I fell on her, totally spent.

‘I’m fucked,’ I said.

‘Me too,’ She replied.

Just then Julie walked in on us with a box of tissues. Her mother was probably outside the bedroom door, listening to us fucking. She must have been able to see my balls jammed hard up against the light fuzz of her daughter’s pubic hair.

‘You two were a bit noisy. Are you OK dear?’

‘Yes mum. Harry has been lovely but you might have warned me about the size of his cock. I was frightened when I saw it’.

It was my turn to be shocked at this openness between a mother and her daughter, in my presence. I climbed off her slowly slid my prick from her tight little hole. Julie watched me and gasped at the size of it.

‘I’m sorry Darling,’ she said. ‘I had no idea’.

There was just a little blood. She reached for the tissue box and she removed 3 or 4 tissues and smeared her snatch, then gave me one.

‘Why don’t you two have a shower together?’ Julie suggested.

We did. She played with me in the shower, and I hardened again. We soaped and rinsed each other.

‘Time to go,’ I whispered to Jeannie, turning off the taps.

We dried ourselves, and as we dressed.

Julie called from the kitchen, ‘Come and have some refreshments you two.’

We spoke as if nothing unusual had just taken place on Jeannie’s bed.

As I left to return home, Jeanie saw me to the front door and asked if could she visit me in a few days. Of course, I accepted. I might need some assistance with my homework.

I happen to have a strategic piece of information about Keith. When he finds out I know he is fucking his secretary, it might be in his interest for Julie to get some of her own extracurricular activity.

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Loving Care in a Care Home Ch. 01

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My son and daughter have decided it’s time for me to get looked after in a Care Home. Apparently I’m not eating regularly. I keep forgetting things, like leaving the stove on, which could burn the house down. I also keep the central heating turned off in winter to save money and apparently I talk to myself and repeat questions every 5 minutes when making conversation. They said;

“You are not looking after yourself properly. Not washing your clothes often enough, not getting a regular hair cut, not cooking proper meals, not getting to the toilet in time causing small leakages and bad smells on the stairs” and so on…

I didn’t want to leave my home because I have lived there for many years watching my kids grow up, spent my retirement years with my wife before she passed away and it would be the end of my independence. But the kids pulled some legal manoeuvre about right of attorney or something so they could get me moved for my own good.

I visited a few Care Homes in my local area to check them out. The best one in my opinion was called Kerridge House. You got your own room with an en-suite bathroom and seating area for watching TV. Plus all meals were provided, medication was brought by medical staff and carers helped with daily tasks, like getting washed, getting dressed, trips to the shops, cleaning your room, undressing and going to bed. It also had a few large common rooms, dining rooms, a hall for evening entertainment, day trips as well as clubs for chess, whist and gin rum etc.

I was provided with quite a small room with a single bed when I moved in, but I was told when bigger rooms become available I could move in to one. But over time I got familiar with the room and felt it was cosy. Did I want someone’s room who had checked out to visit Heaven? Not really.

I was made welcome by the other residents who were mainly widowed and elderly women. There were only two other guys living in the home so I became quite popular amongst the ladies quite quickly. One of the guys had moved into the home with his wife. Although most of the female residents had mostly exceeded their sell by dates two had managed to keep their looks and minds together and I liked chatting to them. The guy who moved in with his wife had a hoist apparently which the carers could use to raise him up over his wife. If they helped insert his cock was never mentioned but with the hoist the couple could make love despite being both 78 years old.

The staff were also very friendly. The nurses and health care assistants tended to be a bit aloof, women in uniforms, married, in their late thirty or early forty years old and very professional. The Carers were much younger usually in their twenties, and seemed to be a bit at odds with themselves. Some were half asleep as they did 2 jobs, others were on their X-Box all night, some were overweight or unhealthy, not good looking, not very bright, immigrants who spoke little English or single parents. Which made me think most Carers are doing that job as they didn’t have many other options. There was a high turnover of Carers. I don’t think many people can cope with wiping other people’s bottoms or changing adult’s escort dikmen nappies. I mean who wants to wipe an elderly persons bum hole for minimum wage?

After a week or so I got into the daily routine at the Home. Getting up and washed, medication brought to me, help getting dressed and then down stairs for breakfast. Back to my room for a bit of daytime TV watching Molly Hilloughby while feeling my cock with my hand in my trouser pocket to keep it working and then a little doze. Then back for lunch downstairs around 1pm. Afterwards a few games of cards, or trips to the shops, or garden centres, cafés or day centres.

Cleaners tended to visit our rooms daily in the afternoon. Sometimes just one girl came round, other days three would blitz my room so it was spotlessly clean. I tried to be in my room when the cleaners came round as one had a fantastic pair of boobs while the other two had great asses.

The cleaners unlike the carers, enjoyed their work, they were close friends with each other and they had all been in their jobs for more than ten years each. They bent over, stretched and reached over me to do their job. I got a eye full every day. What’s more is that they knew what they were doing and smiled as they stuck their boobs in my face as they reached up to clean my book shelf or wiggled their tight bottoms at me as they bent over to empty the small bins in my room while looking at me over their shoulders with a seductive smile.

“Flirting Deluxe” I called it all.

Yes, as you have guessed regular sleep, food, conversation, flirting deluxe and medication had greatly improved my health both physically and mentally, to the point where I was back taking great interest in the women who regularly attended to me and my needs. I had been closed off to the opposite sex since Margaret had passed away and my mind had got fuzzy by being all alone. I found I was hoping to get my knob back into use because it had been at least 5 years since it had last had female contact.

Margaret had been my wife and life partner. We were childhood sweethearts and were married for just on 50 years. I was now 75 years old. Margaret had been gone 5 years, she told me; when she knew she was not going to get over Pneumonia,

“To live your life, don’t live alone and if you meet another woman go for it and don’t be a recluse.”

It had taken me a long time but now in the security of Kerridge Home, I felt able to restart living again. I was reasonably fit even though I couldn’t bend to put my own socks, trousers or shoes on. My balance could go AWOL at any time. So I had a walking stick just in case my balance went, I could walk around without the stick, but that was taking a chance of course, if I needed to.

Melanie or Mel as she preferred was my main Carer. She helped me get dressed and up out of bed most mornings. She lived at home with her Mum. Her Dad had left years ago. She was a pretty bright young thing, was 22 years old, had a pert medium chest, was very thin, long legs but no ass to mention plus I often did not have a clue what she was talking about, because I was so out of touch with the modern world. escort elvankent

Mel never stopped talking unless Herbert made an appearance. Margaret, my wife had called my tool Herbert since we got married. I don’t know why but the name had stuck. Often when out dancing or at parties Margaret would casually ask me in front of family and friends;

“What does Herbert think about Helen ‘s dress?” Or “Has Herbert seen Aunt Agatha’s see through blouse and bra?” Margaret and I used to laugh about Herbert a lot.

One day in the Care Home, Herbert fell out of the fly of my pyjamma pants, while Mel was getting my clothes together to get dressed. She took one look at Herb’ and said;

“My God the size of that?”

I answered and said;

“Oops a daisy!” As I slid him back inside the fly of my pyjammas.

As Mel became more familiar with me, Herbert made a few more unexpected appearances by chance obviously!

Mel became more friendly too, as time passed and she got more trusting and better acquainted in our chats.

“I’ve had a few boyfriends and seen quite a few men’s tools but none were as big as yours.” She said one day, as I had accidentally on purpose dropped Herbert out of my pants. I once asked her:

“How many men have you slept with?”

Mel answered;

“I go on girls two week summer holidays each year to either Spain or Greece. These girl’s holidays are just constant alcohol, sunbathing and sex trips. So I’ve seen quite a few things, that you would not expect a 22 year old to know.” While she tapped the side of her nose with her finger.

Mel made me promise to keep it a secret and said

“The answer to your question is 41.”

I nearly fell off my chair with shock, as she continued;

“That is not a lot nowadays, you know. All of my friends have had way more men than me.” She said.

She noticed Herbert twitch as she continued talking. The talk about sex was giving me a semi erection. I said;

“I have had just one lover who was my wife.”

Mel hugged me saying,

“Isn’t that so nice and sweet. Oh, you nice lovely old chap!”

I realised I had spent my whole life not knowing I was well endowed down there, having lived my life with my wife, so we both did not know any different. Needless to say Margaret always had a smile on her face.

One day I became aware Herbert had popped out of my pyjamas again. This time Mel got hold of him and said;

“Oh! That is a good boy, let me stroke you, there come to baby, she wants to feel you and cherish you, you cute love tool,” while she touched Herbert.

“Gosh! He is amazing.”

She whispered in my ear as she worked her hand up and down Herbert’s length. I leaned back in my armchair and tried to relax. The only person who had ever touched me down there was my wife.

I found it hard to let Mel continue as it was so out of character for me. I had been a one woman man all my life. I moved her hand off me and tried to explain I was not ready for anything sexual at that time. Mel replied;

“It’s 5 years since you had any loving. But I understand,” she said escort emek as she squeezed Herbert then kissed me on the lips before she tucked Herbert back into my pyjamas. Then she patted my junk gently.

“I’m sure your wife would want you to have some affection in your life after all this time you have been alone. But I respect your wishes.” Then she left my room.

I pondered upon what she had said and what had happened. I reflected on what she had said and done and it made me stiff all day.

Unusually Mel came into my room at 10pm to get me ready for bed.

“Oh, its you again.” I said.

“Yeah” Mel said,

“Nice to see you twice in one day! I’ve picked up a double shift for some double bubble overtime! I’m trying to get some money together for my summer holidays, so the overtime cash will be a big help. Plus I wanted to check out Herbert again!” She said while laughing.

“Well here you go Princess, here is your knight in shining armour!” As I proudly stood Herbert up and out of my pants, pointing directly up at the ceiling.

I had thought about what Mel had said that morning and decided she was correct. It was time for me to indulge in some love and affection finally!

A fully erect Herbert stood out of my trousers, as Mel got me undressed ready for bed, her eyes didn’t stray off Herbert at all.

Once my pyjamas were on she gently slid Herbert out and started masturbating me. After a minute or two I felt lovely warmth and wetness on Herbert’s helmet and I opened my eyes to see Mel loving the head of my cock with her mouth. It felt amazing as her touch was soft and tingling. I felt the head of Herbert swell up and my foreskin slid down off my helmet and settled underneath in a tight ring around my girth.

“God! It’s as wide as a can of coke!” She said as five years worth of sperm got ready to explode out of my trouser volcano. Mel noticed that I was on the edge of an orgasm.

“I love sucking your big wide cock, it’s so nice. Are you going to come?” she asked as she continued working me. I nodded my head.

“That is it baby!” She said. “Let it all out”

I felt tears roll down my cheeks as a massive wave of emotion swept over me, then I felt my balls tighten and rise, then a burning pain shot up my urethra tract like a dam bursting, before thick sticky cum fired out all over Mel’s chest on to her crisp white Carer’s uniform. She kept pumping as more and more love juice fired out of my cock. As she carried on I noticed my jism got thinner, wetter and was brilliant white.

So much cum fired out that Mel dropped her mouth on top of my penis to catch the last ropes of sperm as the front of her work jacket was already saturated. I smiled as the tears of joy rolled over my cheeks. I had forgotten what an orgasm felt like. Mel showed me her tongue with my sperm on it, before closing her mouth and swallowing. She then went to work cleaning me up, cleaned her work jacket, then put me in bed, kissed me and Herbert saying;

“Goodnight Herbert. Goodnight Norman. See you in the morning” while she squeezed my tool under the bed covers.

She turned the light out and closed my door. I went to sleep straight away. Dreaming about orgasms and if any more were coming my way. Little did I know how many glorious orgasms were going to come my way over the next few weeks and beyond. Zzzzz.

Good night readers sleep tight xxx. Chapter 2 will follow soon.

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Letter to Phil

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… As I feel your hard cock throbbing inside me filling my pussy with hot cum… I notice a figure in the doorway. You slide your cock out of me and move down the king size bed – unaware that we are being watched – and position yourself between my trembling legs spreading them wide.

I take in every detail of the beautiful girl, she looks young – about eighteen, she has a ‘pretty’ face, olive skin and long dark flowing hair. I groan as you gently stroke my swollen clit with your fingers. The girl looks shocked by what she is seeing, as if she wants to leave but somehow can’t. She is wearing a sheer white blouse, short black skirt – I realise that she must be the maid.

You work harder on my clit, increasing the pressure and slide two fingers inside my dripping pussy. I gasp and move my hips, pushing myself down against your hand. My hands move to my tits, rolling my hard nipples between my fingertips – never taking my eyes off of the exotic girl who is watching you please me. She looks back at me and keeping eye contact with me lowers her hand to her skirt, and tugs it up revealing a black thong, and black suspenders leading to her black lace topped stockings.

As I start to move my hips faster, you insert a third finger but stop rubbing my clit… I buck my hips upwards, panting, I need you to rub my clit! I raise my hips once more and this time my clit is met by your tongue – you lick and nibble while you pound my cunt with your fingers. I am dizzy I’m so horny… This feels so good! The girl is rubbing herself through the damp lace of her thong – still looking directly into my eyes, her lips are quivering and I can see she is breathing faster… I feel myself about to climax… I arch my back… and thrust my hips towards you… Every muscle in my body is tense… The girl is rubbing herself harder and faster… you are finger fucking me so hard it hurts… I’m gasping… I’m panting… grabbing your hair I push you down, increasing the pressure on my clit… I feel myself going over the edge… hold my breath… And… YES… YES… YES… I scream as my orgasm washes over me… the muscles in my pussy tighten around your fingers. You continue to lick my clit, this time with dikmen escort bayan long, slow, rhythmic strokes of your tongue, making my orgasm last longer. The ripples fade and my body relaxes. You kiss your way up my body, finally reaching my mouth and kissing me hard.

The girl is rubbing her clit like mad… she leans back against the door to steady herself… She licks her lips… And throws her head back… arching her back… as she finally cums… her silence is broken and she screams out ‘OH GOD’!

You turn immediately, and for the first time see the girl that has been in the hotel room with us for the last half an hour. She blushes as she hurriedly pulls down her skirt, picks up a pile of soft white towels and goes quickly to the bathroom. Naked, I follow her to the bathroom where she is standing in front of the mirror, I stand behind her and admire her reflection. Her tight blouse is very sheer and I can see that she is not wearing a bra, her large breasts are firm with erect nipples.

I ask her name – Maria. She is Italian and speaks little English. She tells me that although she has a boyfriend she is still a virgin. She tells me that she would love to have sex but she is afraid she would not know what to do. She turns to face me and I can’t help but brush my hand over her gorgeous tits, lingering on her hard nipples. I ask if she would like to learn what to do, and nervously she nods her head.

I lead her by the hand back out to the bedroom where you are sitting on the end of the bed. Standing in front of you I slowly unbutton and remove her blouse, revealing her tanned breasts. I lean forward and take her left nipple in my mouth, gently sucking it. My right hand is on her other breast, gently I roll the nipple between my fingers. Her breathing becomes slightly faster. I unzip her skirt, it falls to the ground and she steps out of it.

Your cock is hard as you look at the sight before you. Maria – black high-heeled shoes, sheer black stockings covering slender legs, leading to lightly tanned smooth thighs covered only by her suspenders. I kneel in front of her and pull down her black thong, revealing a mound of black hair. Carefully elvankent escort bayan I ease her legs apart a little and feel her wetness with my fingers – her pussy is shaved like mine! I part her pussy lips, lean forward and find her clit with my tongue. She gasps and I grab her hips, pulling her towards me. Very gently I lick her clit… She starts to move her hips. I feel her cunt with my fingers and slowly insert a finger… her pussy is so tight – and I feel her muscles tense around my finger. She is so wet I know she can take more… And I know exactly what she needs inside her!

Leaving Maria for a moment, I go to where you are sitting on the end of the bed, I kneel between your legs. Grabbing your hips I pull you towards me so that you are right on the very edge of the bed. I take your cock in my hand, noticing just how hard you are. First I lick the full length of your cock, and then take the head in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, you grab my head and push me down, I take your cock in and out of my mouth, making it as wet as I can. You grab my hair and try to make me go faster, but I can’t let you come – not yet anyway!

I go back over to Maria and taking her hand lead her over towards you. Carefully I position her so that she is standing with her back to you, with her legs either side of yours. I kneel between your legs again, your huge gleaming erection in front of my face. Placing my hands on Maria’s thighs, I gently pull her down a little so that her pussy is just above your cock. I part her pussy lips and guide your cock to the entrance of her tight cunt, so that she can feel the heat of your erection against her. I put my hands on her hips and gently pull her down onto you, so that the head of your cock is just about inside her. Her tits rise up and down as she starts to pant from excitement and nerves. Very slowly I pull her further down onto your huge erection and she moans as she takes you deeper inside her tight cunt. You love how her virgin pussy feels around your cock. When she has taken all of you inside her I push her legs further apart, and then yours.

I lean forward and lick your balls, I lick the base of your shaft emek escort bayan and carry on up to Maria’s clit. Holding onto her hips you lift her up, and I lick the full length of your cock – tasting Maria’s pussy juice on you. This time you slam her back down onto you and she screams out loud, an erotic mixture of pleasure and pain. You guide her up and down your hard cock, and when she gets into a rhythm of her own you let go of her hips, moving your hands round to focus on her clit.

In need of something to fill my cunt I go over to the chest of drawers and get out a double-ended dildo. I take a chair and position it just in front of you and Maria. I sit on the chair, spread my legs and lift my feet up onto the bed. Taking one end of the thick dildo, I ram it into my pussy, and fuck myself with it. I watch as Maria’s tight cunt slides up and down your cock, I have never seen anything so horny in my life. You suddenly grab her hips again and guide her up and down… faster and faster… harder and harder… She rides your cock like a whore… Faster and faster… You thrust your hips towards her as you bring her down onto you and you hold her down as you shoot your load in her virgin pussy.

I know what I need now, so I beckon Maria over to me as I get down on all fours. Maria instinctively kneels down on all fours with her arse to mine and takes the other end of the dildo and guides it easily into her pussy that’s oozing your hot cum. We both push back towards each other, taking the dildo in as deep as we can. You come over and join us, you take the middle of the dildo in your hand and move it from side to side. You fuck us both with the thick double-ended dildo, I move my hand between my legs and rub my clit. I am moaning so loudly, I’m sure everyone must be able to hear me. You take Maria’s hand and place it on her clit, and she too starts to rub it. You watch as the thick dildo stretches both of our cunts and soon you are hard again. You slide your free hand up and down your hardon. You too start to groan, and as you get closer to cumming you fuck us both harder and faster with the dildo. As you bring both Maria and I to orgasm with the dildo, you cum all over our arses. Hot spunk hits my skin at the same second I cum. Maria cries out as she too cums and feels your cum on her arse.

The phone rings and I answer, it’s reception asking if the maid has delivered us the clean towels yet… Maria dresses quickly, and with a smile on her face leaves the room and hurries back to work…

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Lazy Margaret

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One of my first female housemates was Margaret and we ended up living together for over 2 years.

She was 12 years older than me at the time (I was 22 and she was 34).

Margaret was a very shapely woman with big hips and buttocks which were her best physical asset, along with her large breasts.

She always had the habit though, of leaving her dirty clothes lying around the place, especially in the bathroom.

Of course, amongst her dirty clothes more often than not were her dirty knickers.

At first I thought this was gross and always avoided them, but after a while I was more and more curious to maybe have a quick look and see what was inside them.

Margaret worked as a school teacher and I often wondered if she would get really dirty between her legs on any normal day and create stains inside her panties. I also wondered if she would get very smelly down there.

I learned over time that Margaret wore lots of different types of panties – lots of cotton and lace and different colours as well.

Eventually I would start to have small peeks at her knickers if they were lying limp on the bathroom floor, which soon enough led to me looking inside them.

The first time I opened a pair they were black lace with a nice soft cotton crotch panel. I noticed there were no stains which I was glad about and I gently ran my thumb across it.

My heart was racing dikmen escort at a million miles an hour as I looked at the gusset as I plucked up the courage to maybe smell it.

It was so incredible to think that this tiny piece of material had been in between her legs for many hours during the day and making direct contact against her vagina and pubic hair! Towards the back had also probably been rubbing against her anus and would have had direct contact with these openings as she went to the toilet during the day.

I had to smell it just to find out, so I slowly brought the bare gusset towards my face and carefully took a whiff from about 2 inches away.

I could just smell something from that distance so I brought it a bit closer and then a bit closer again until my nose was directly in contact with the material.

My first big inhale revealed a strong sweaty smell, quite tangy and just like body odour. There was no real “pussy” smell and certainly no “fishy” odour which would have been terrible at the time.

I inhaled deeply and it was beautiful. Margaret’s privates were now revealed to me through her panties and I masturbated into the toilet then and there as I smelled her sweaty odour, coming quickly that first time with one last final deep inhale.

From that time onwards, I would look inside Margaret’s undies at every opportunity.

It elvankent escort did not take long to come across a pair that was stained, which happened the very next time I found some.

They were a black cotton bikini, full bottomed but with some yellowish-whitish dried discharge stains on the gusset. They had the same strong sweaty smell as the last pair and a little bit of extra smell that was hard to describe. It wasn’t a gross smell either, just kind of strong.

Probably about the 4th or 5th pair of Margaret’s knickers I found were a large blue cotton pair that had a large, coffee-coloured stain on the vagina panel, which I was shocked by yet quietly excited. Strangely they had no extra odour than other pairs, which surprised me.

After this experience, I found the courage to actually start running my tongue across Margaret’s dirty crotch panels as well as sniffing them. The first pair I put my tongue to had no stain, which was good. I didn’t know if I would get any taste and I had to also be careful because if I made the crotch panel really wet, Margaret might find out.

For this reason I couldn’t really suck them as I wanted to.

The first pair I actually got some taste from was actually quite heavily stained. It was a white lace pair that had a heavy, damp rust-coloured stain right through the gusset. Whatever part of her cycle she was on, they emek escort had a heavily “musky” smell and I felt quite daring as I started to lick them. The heavy staining was too curious for me to resist as I wrapped my mouth around them after a couple of minutes. It was such a unique taste and I decided that it was worth running the risk so I basically sucked them for about 10 minutes, trying to get as much flavour in my mouth as possible. It was definitely a strong taste and I masturbated hard thinking of her private vaginal activity that had led to this disgusting mess. I thought of her adolescent male students and what they would think if they knew their teacher Miss Hodges was producing this inside her underpants as she taught them!

I also found a couple of pairs that still had the odd brown, curly pubic hair stuck in amongst the dried discharge which was hugely exciting.

Some odd pairs also had light brown stains from her anus and these were pairs that I found to be on a whole new level of excitement. Vaginal odour was always one thing but anal aroma was something else and discovered that I definitely wanted more of this!

A few times I came across what were clearly period stains and probably only twice did I come across pairs of Margaret’s knickers that had the typical tell-tale “fishy” odour for which women’s vaginas are well-known. By the time I smelled her “fish” for the first time, I was more advanced in my desires and this actually made me hungry for more, which I eventually experienced with other women later on.

Overall, my experience with Margaret’s dirty underwear over a period of time, shaped me into the enthusiast that I have now become.

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