Tuesday, 26 February 2013

The Pool Boy

Mitch was playing XBox when he heard a car door slam. He looked out the window to see Emma, his next door neighbor coming home from shopping. "Damn she's fucking hot," Mitch thought to himself. Emma had been divorced for about a year, and Mitch felt a little guilty for looking at her this way. He really liked Mr. Ferguson, he'd lived next door to them since he was an infant, but Mitch was nineteen now and Mrs. Ferguson's tits were calling to him.

Mitch figured he could fill a gallon milk bottle if he had kept all the semen he'd produced while watching Emma sunbathe by her pool, and he'd only been home from college for a week. Beating his meat while looking at Emma in a bikini wasn't going to be enough for Mitch this summer, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to squeeze her 36DD funbags as her pumped his eight inches of steel in and out of her shaved cunt.

Mitch had one problem, Emma and his mom had been best friends since before he was born. When Mitch looked at Emma, he saw the smoking hot blonde, with huge tits and a gorgeous ass. When Emma looked at Mitch, she saw the six year old in a Lone Ranger mask, shooting a cap gun in front of her house. Mitch figured that at some point Emma had to feel the need for some cock. She wasn't an old maid yet, far from it, she was only forty-two, and didn't look a day over twenty-five.

Mitch knew Emma wasn't seeing anyone, and he hoped that if she was using toys to satisfy her needs, it wouldn't be long before she grew as tired of them as Mitch had grown of his hand. All Mitch had to do was convince Emma that he wasn't the little boy she'd watch grow up. He had to show her he was a full grown man, capable of satisfying her desires. Mitch wasn't dumb enough to think that he could have any kind of relationship with Emma, she'd never be able to look his mom in the eye again. He had to be the young stud with a hard dick that she just fucked for fun.

In order to do that, Mitch was going to have to show her that he wasn't such a little boy anymore. That was going to be tough for him, he didn't even call her by her first name, but Mitch had all summer to do it. The first thing Mitch thought he had to do was let Emma see just how much he'd grown. Mitch was no dumpy college dork, he was on the swim team in college, and he had a gorgeous body. He had short close cropped brown hair that made his lean handsome face look rugged and chiseled. He kept his lean tight body always perfectly shaved for swimming, and his long thick eight inch cock looked more like a work of art than a sex organ.

Mitch had a plan to show himself off to Emma. He went and bought a pair of white swim trunks two sizes too small. After his parents had gone to sleep that night, he went outside and took a saw from the garage. There was a huge tree in their backyard, and some of the branches hung over the pool. Every fall it was a pain cleaning the fallen leaves out so the pool could be used. Mitch figured if you couldn't swim in a pool with leaves, you certainly couldn't use one with a huge tree branch in it. Mitch sawed one of the tree limbs about halfway through, hoping its weight would cause it to fall into the pool by morning.

Mitch woke up the next morning to find the tree limb crashed into the pool, just as he hoped. He went downstairs to the kitchen and found his mother making breakfast.

"Mom, did you see the tree limb in the pool, how am I going to practice?"

"Don't worry honey, I already called a tree service, I'm sure Emma will let you use her pool for today."

Sweet victory, Mitch thought to himself. Not only was his scheme in motion, but his mom had made the suggestion he use Emma's pool. About an hour later Mitch was knocking on Emma's door,

"Hi Mrs. Ferguson, a big tree limb fell into our pool last night...I was wondering if I could use your pool for my workout?"

"Oh of course sweetie, come on in."

Mitch came in and chatted with Emma for a few minutes before he changed into his swim trunks and went out to the pool. Mitch's extremely tight swim trunks were so small that every single detail of his dick was clearly visible, and they weren't even wet. Mitch thought that if he were to get an erection, it might just tear the trunks right off of him.

Mitch went outside, jumped into the water, and swam a few laps. He was carefully keeping an eye on the windows to make sure Emma was somewhere she could see outside when he got out of the pool. Mitch could see that Emma had come into the kitchen, and was making a pitcher of iced tea. Mitch seized his opportunity. He slowly climbed out of the pool and turned to face the window. With his swim trunks wet, they were completely see through, and even tighter fitting. Mitch's manhood was clearly on display. Mitch stood there for a moment. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.

Emma wasn't really paying any attention to Mitch, she only casually glanced out the window, but the sight shocked her. She quickly looked away at first, but was unable to stop herself from taking a second peek. She looked long enough to at least confirm that she had seen what she thought she'd seen. She quickly looked back down at the iced tea she was making, but the picture of Mitch's cock was burned into her mind now. She tried to think of something else, like when Mitch was a little boy, or better yet when he was a baby. "I was at the hospital the day that boy was born," Emma thought to herself. Emma tried to think back to when Mitch was a baby, she'd changed his diaper many times. Emma told herself that it wasn't the first time she'd see the boy's wee wee.

Emma had made herself feel a little better until she heard splashing, Mitch was getting out of the pool again. Emma tried to make herself not look, but she couldn't. Emma thought that Mitch's cock looked even bigger this time, she couldn't take her eyes off of it. "This is my best friend's son...what would Donna think?" Emma tore her eyes away. When she heard a splash she walked into the living room and sat on the couch.

It had been a while for Emma, her toys kept her sane, but she hadn't felt anything warm inside her in far too long. Emma tried hard to erase what she'd seen from her mind, then she heard slashing again. Emma forced herself to stay in the couch for a moment, but she couldn't resist the urge. Emma got up and went to the window. "Oh my goodness!" Emma whispered. The entire head of Mitch's cock was poking out of his swim trunks. Emma was staring at like a hungry lion, at raw meat. "Please don't let Donna find out." Emma said to herself.

Mitch finished his workout and came inside. He asked Emma if he could go upstairs and take a shower. Emma said yes, and when she heard the water turn on she did something purely on impulse. She grabbed a towel and opened the door. Emma found Mitch standing there naked and said, "Oh I'm sorry honey, I just wanted to bring you a towel." Mitch made no effort to cover himself as he thanked her and took the towel.

Mitch saw his opportunity as Emma lingered at the door and said, "You don't have to be embarrassed Mrs. Ferguson, I'm not ashamed of my body, I don't mind you seeing me naked."

Emma couldn't help but stare, she composed herself and said, "Oh no dear...you have a very nice body."

Mitch could tell Emma was nervous, he inched closer to her and said, "Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson I think you have a very nice body too."

Emma was using all her willpower to not throw herself at Mitch until she looked down and saw Mitch's penis begin to grow. Emma was trembling as Mitch took a step closer to her. Mitch had a full erection when Emma spoke, "You're a little excited I see."

"Yes I am," Mitch said in a deep seductive voice as he took a step closer to Emma.

"What would your mother say?" Emma asked, almost stuttering.

"My mother doesn't need to know." Mitch said as he put his hand on the small of Emma's back, and pulled himself so close, that the tip of his penis touched her belly button. Emma wanted to stop herself, but she couldn't. It had been so long since she had a man inside her. She needed this. Mitch felt Emma's hand cautiously touch his penis. She wasn't trying to stimulate him, she wanted to touch it, explore it, as if she had forgotten what one felt like.

Emma couldn't control herself, she dropped to her knees and stared at Mitch's erection for a long moment. It wasn't too late for her to turn back, she could still send the boy home, take a cold shower and forget it ever happened. For a second Emma thought she could but then...

Mitch let out a soft moan of pleasure as Emma took him into her mouth. Mitch tasted like sweet candy to her. Emma sucked him like a lollipop, she was almost getting more pleasure from it than him. He felt so warm in her mouth, she could feel his heart beating, feel his breathing. Emma unbuttoned her top and let it fall to the floor and began caressing her breasts with both hands.

As good as Mitch tasted, Emma needed more. She stood up and unbuttoned her shorts, letting them drop to the floor. This was Mitch's dream, Emma was standing in front of him naked. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her to face away from him. He grabbed her left leg and lifted it, leaving the right on the floor, and thrust into Emma.

Emma moaned when she felt Mitch penetrate her. She had a real cock inside her for the first time in a year. She wanted to feel every inch of it. She didn't care that Mitch was pumping like a horny schoolboy, she wanted to feel it. Mitch couldn't do it standing up for long so Emma led him to the couch and let him sit down. She climbed on top of him and quickly stuffed his penis back inside her. Emma fucked him like a teenager, sliding up and down on his pole with blazing speed.

"He's so big," Emma thought to herself as Mitch filled her. She suddenly turned around to face away from him without allowing his cock outside her, and continued riding him. Mitch didn't think he could last much longer, Emma was like a bucking bronco on top of him. Mitch had no control, if Emma was going to cum it was completely up to her. Mitch could feel the sweat building up on Emma's body, she was fucking him like wild. Suddenly Mitch couldn't take anymore, he felt himself explode inside Emma. Emma only fucked Mitch harder when she felt his sperm fill her, she was screaming with pleasure when she finally collapsed on top of him. Emma lay on top of Mitch for a few moments before she climbed off. She really didn't have any idea what to say to Mitch, she'd acted in the heat of lust.

Mitch finally broke the awkward silence with, "Don't worry Mrs. Ferguson, I won't tell if you won't." Mitch headed home with a huge smile on his face. Mitch came in through the back door. His mother was chewing on an apple as she asked, "How was your workout dear?"

"Best one ever," Mitch replied.

Passionate Silence: The Beginning

She sat in seat 13-A, looking silently out the window at the ground slowly moving by 35,000 feet below her, occasionally interrupted by a soft cloud passing by on the Friday afternoon. Her drink sat half-finished on the tray table dropped down from the seat back in front of her.

She knew she wanted this flight; she had to get away, and she knew that what she would encounter at the other end was something she wanted, no, needed for herself—to feel like a woman again. This trip was the end of the slavish life she had left behind, a life that had started out well but had gone sour, corrupted and decayed by infidelity and the loss of trust that had come with it. The reward for that infidelity and breach of vows was her angry silence. In that dark time first she had shied away from everyone in her hurt, choosing silence over words that would hurt those that didn't deserve it. When that threatened to overwhelm her, she had sought solace for her own needs in the other she was flying to see now, not for any revenge or infidelity of her own, but for understanding, to try to get past her hurt, to heal, and move on. He had helped her, and she had moved on and healed, but she also found she wanted more. She had almost completely moved on from being used and exploited as a housewife and penis depository. The divorce was long past. Her emotional wounds had all healed save one. This trip was to see him, to heal that final wound, to become whole again, and to repay the debt she owed him.

At first they had simply talked, about the situation she was in. She was able to break her silence with him. He provided her a male perspective on the situation, including insight as to how the male mind operated, and why some men acted like total assholes. She found him gentle and understanding, and she knew she could trust him with anything. As time went on the talks moved beyond broken relationships into more mundane things like how to fix her broken computer and why women's clothes sizing in stores made no sense. After the divorce, she found herself sharing dreams and fantasies with him, and him her. Although they had known each other for a few years, they saw each other rarely, because time and distance made for persistent enemies of even the longest and strongest of relationships. They exchanged photos, and of late the photos took on a more risqué tone, with her taking the first step of a topless photo, then the rest of her. His replies were in line, indicating he loved what he saw, and he reciprocated with photos of him, and she replied in kind. This was not a man who was out for a conquest, even though they had cybersex together a few times. There was a mutual attraction, and after a long time, this trip was finally happening. But the time for words between them was past, so silent she would be.

She stirred from her thoughts and absently reached for, then finished her rum and coke, the third since she left. A few minutes later the flight attendant collected the trash and she put up the tray table. She returned to her gaze out the window, watching the miles creep by and the ground creep closer as the 737 approached for landing. Landmarks familiar from memorizing Google Maps came to her as she found his house from above. She knew he wasn't there at the moment, because he was waiting for her at the airport. The plane touched down with a bump and taxied to the terminal. Mentally she reviewed her next steps, and as she walked up the jetway with the other passengers from the half-full flight, pulling her carry-on bag, her lone luggage, with her, she shivered. Maybe it was the cold air in the jetway, maybe it was anticipation, but she was glad she was wearing the button-up denim dress she had on now for the warmth it provided. Still she stayed silent.

She entered the concourse and headed to the nearest restroom. Entering a stall, she pulled in her carry-on behind her and latched the door. First she unbuttoned the bottom of her dress up past the mid-calf she had set it at to much higher, so that the lowest button was just below mid-thigh. She lowered her panties and relieved herself since the 3 rum and cokes was letting her know her bladder was full, but when she was done, she slipped her panties off all the way and put them into the outer pocket of her bag. She stowed her reading glasses in her purse and removed the barrettes in her hair, letting it cascade down from the tight bun she had done it up in for the flight to its full auburn length to her waist. Then she unbuttoned the top of the dress to her navel and removed her bra, putting it with the panties in the bag. She buttoned the dress back up to just below her breasts, so that her cleavage was visible but nothing would fall out until she wanted it to. It was liberating, wearing nothing but her dress, pentacle, and her lone piercing. She let out another shiver. She was slightly buzzed, but still, she had not let this part of her come out in a long time—too long.

Out of the purse came a compact and she checked her minimal makeup, finding no smudges. Next came the strawberry lip gloss. Last, the perfume, from a bottle he had sent her the previous Yule, and she applied it to her neck, running a line down her cleavage, and another up the inside of each thigh. She gave herself a quick touch of the piercing between her legs to create even more anticipation, but she stopped, and she stowed the makeup back in her purse and left the stall, heading out of the restroom and towards the security gate. She had been silent since she had boarded the plane.


He stood there, outside the security area, silently waiting. He had been there only a few minutes, timing his arrival to minimize the parking costs. To the casual observer, he was just another man, patiently awaiting a passenger arrival, but on closer inspection they would have found it odd to see him wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket indoors over his loose white t-shirt and leather chaps over his loose sweat pants—until they saw the helmet in his hand. He looked completely the part of a biker, and he was. Except for the bulge in his pants hidden by his fanny pack, and the fact that the only thing between that bulge and the fanny pack was the sweat pants.

He thought back to times past with her, the talks, the times when she really needed a long hug, a good shoulder rub, or a chest to bury her face into and cry, yet there was no one there in person to provide it for her. He had seen this woman at her best and worst, seen her most vulnerable and most vicious. She had bared her soul and body to him, and he had taken that gift and made the most of it, and this trip was the final act in a long play that would lead who-knows-where.

And he wanted her. And she wanted him, else she would not have come.

And she was there, coming down the escalator, looking around nervously, then seeing him and breaking into a smile. She stepped off and came to him, dropping her bag beside them, throwing her arms around him and kissing him deeply. No words were said. None were needed. He returned her kiss with fervor as she pressed herself into him. They broke the kiss and he grabbed her carry-on. He motioned for her to follow, and she did, hooking her arm in his as they made their way out the door into the parking garage. He stopped at a Harley with a sidecar. He retrieved a spare helmet from the sidecar and placed her carry-on in and strapped it in, then removed the fanny pack and placed it in a saddle bag. He set the helmet, along with his own, on the seat of the bike. They embraced again, and this time the kiss was more insistent, and she opened her mouth to admit his tongue, and they reveled in the taste of rum, coke, and strawberries. His hand reached inside her dress and cupped her right breast, feeling it weight in his hand, and his fingers tweaked the nipple softly. Her hands reached around and ducked into his pants and squeezed the cool flesh of his behind, pulling him into her, and she felt his arousal against her.

Then the kiss was broken again, and he helped her into her helmet, her long hair billowing out underneath, blending right in with the red flames on the black helmet. He put on his own helmet, with blue flames in a custom job that matched the bike perfectly, zipped up his jacket, and mounted the bike. She lifted up a leg and swung on behind him, feeling the cool leather on her piercing, and the slight push back gave her another shudder. He started the motor as she slipped her arms around his waist, and she leaned into him, partly to keep the wind off her breasts but also because whatever cologne he was wearing was intoxicating. They left the parking garage and headed out of the airport for the drive home, and she decided to play some more. He hands moved lower and into the front of his pants, finding his still-erect self. She began a gentle stroking of it, reveling in the feel of him, trying to entice but not distract. For his part, he had decided to take city streets home and no freeways the moment he had seen her swing a creamy leg over the bike behind him, giving him a peek at her bareness beyond. Now her hands were definitely enticing as he tried to focus on the road ore than his raging hard-on and her merciless teasing.

They hit a bump and she felt the bike, already vibrating on her piercing, lurch into her, sending her a jolt of unexpected pleasure, and she gripped him tighter. She noticed more and each one began to build within her a wave of pleasure that she knew would soon break, and all that was in question was how and when. She stopped her stroking but left her hands there and let the bike and the road do the work.


After what seemed like an eternity of bump-induced pleasure but in reality was only ten minutes, he pulled into the garage, shut off the bike, and put down the door. She released her grip on him and withdrew her hands from his pants and dismounted, he following and removing his fanny pack from the saddle bag and her carry-on from the sidecar. They both removed their helmets and placed them in the sidecar, then entered the house. He removed his sunglasses and put them in his jacket, then removed the jacket and chaps and shoes and put them in the coat closet.

He went straight away to the bedroom with her bag, and she followed to the doorway. She slipped off her shoes and kicked them aside. He placed the bag in the corner and turned to face her. She ran to him and threw herself onto him, and he fell backwards onto the bed, her on top of him. Her hands ripped at his t-shirt, tearing it off, and her hands frantically pulled down his pants, and she quickly, almost frantically got them off of him. She hiked her own dress and moved onto him, getting him into her at last. She began to move up and down on him as she worked the buttons of her dress, one button for each thrust, until there were no more buttons and she removed it completely and cast it aside. He started to reach for her but she grabbed his wrists and pushed him back. This was her time. She moved up and down on him faster, feeling him inside her, reveling in the feel of what she needed and had lacked for so long. Her hand found her piercing and she began stroking herself, and the other found her breast and began to stroke her nipple. She continued this way, humping like a beast possessed, until she came with a silent roar, mouth open with no sound coming out, stopping her thrusts to clench him in her shuddering and twitching throes, then feeling him come inside her as well. She was a woman again, sexy, confident, and utterly feminine, restored the way that only trust and unrestrained passion can do. When she had subsided enough to think, she moved off of him, then curled up next to him. They drifted off to sleep.


The first thing he noticed as he woke was touch. More specifically, the lack of hers. She was gone, but as his other senses came into wakefulness, he heard water running in the shower and saw a waft of steam curling along the ceiling from the bathroom. He got up and went into the bathroom. She was there, in the shower, letting the water wash over her. He opened the door and stepped inside, then closed the door behind himself. She took the washcloth and soap, and turned to face him. She kissed him tenderly, and then began to wash him, working down his chest and back, then going down his arms and up his legs, exploring every inch of him, caressing him, stroking him, and cleaning him. At last she found herself kneeling at his crotch, and she gently washed him there, taking extra care of the sensitive areas that were already responding to her touch. She followed up the rinse with her own special ministrations, taking him in her mouth and sucking and licking him under the warm spray, until he could stand it no more and he let loose, but she would not relinquish, and took all of him in. He took her hand and helped her to her feet, took the washcloth, and began to wash her, and he did exactly the same thing to her she did to him—exploring every inch, caressing, stroking, and cleaning her. He slipped the washcloth between her legs and washed her there gently, but then at last he finished with washing her breasts, taking extra care on them, and he followed up with his own mouth, first sucking on one, then the other, then the first again, enjoying her nipples as they grew ever so taut under his tongue and teeth. He reached behind and turned off the water, then opened the door. They stepped out of the shower, and she reached for a towel, and began to dry him in the same way she had washed him, and when she finished he did the same.

But then he dropped the towel and scooped her in his arms and carried her back to the bed. He laid her on the bed and then kneeled before her. He spread her legs wide and move down to her, and his mouth closed in on her piercing and he began to lick and suck on her womanhood. She draped her legs over his shoulders and her hands found the back of his head, her eyes closed, as she twitched and shook with orgasm after orgasm from his relentless assault on her. He refused to stop, and she refused to let him, until finally he disengaged and replaced his mouth with his manhood. He thrust into her, first slow and shallow, then deeper and faster as she accepted him in, until he was pounding away on her and she was arching her back in pleasure. He pulled out and turned her over and began again, from behind, getting even deeper, her mouth chewing the pillow to keep from crying out, her hands clenching the sheets as waves of orgasms washed over her yet more. Finally with one deep thrust he came deep inside her, and then he slowly pulled out. They collapsed together.


They continued like this all weekend long, with no words between them, making love with a passion and intensity that was beyond words anyway. When they weren't in bed they were elsewhere in the house, and no words were exchanged at all, even when eating meals.


She sat in seat 15-G, looking out the window at the lights on the ground slowly moving by 35,000 feet below her, occasionally interrupted by a soft cloud passing by on the Sunday evening. Her drink sat half-finished on the tray table dropped down from the seat back in front of her.

She was finally healed. She was a woman again. The debt was repaid.

She would return soon, to share in the passionate silence again. But when that comes, she knows she will not leave. And that time, when the silence breaks, the woman will remain, whole and complete. 

Caught in the Act

I don't often think that things can't get better, but at this particular moment, that was the one thought that clearly went through my mind: Things can't get much better than this.

This was me, only wearing my shirt, drilling my twenty-year-old girlfriend's bald pussy as she leaned over her desk in her sorority room.

This was her roommate sitting only a foot away, recording us while fingering herself.

This was my girlfriend, with her thong down around her ankles, her skirt bunched up around her waist, her black nylon socks ending just beneath her knees, heels trying to keep traction, yelling out my name with each thrust of my cock.

This was how I was letting go of much pent-up tension from the past weeks where all I seemed to do was study and work and during which I had little-to-no-time to spend with my sexy girlfriend, a girl I met during another late night in the library during which I strongly considered (once again) what I was still doing in school at the age of twenty-seven.

And this was me holding on to her hip with my left hand while using my right to pull her hair back, and her smiling at me as my balls slapped against her perfect ass, and her saying to me, "Come. Come inside of me. I want it, and you need it. Come inside of me."

At which point I let go of her hair, grabbed her hips with both of my hands, thrust once, twice, thrice more until I came and hollered and her roommate locked the door so no one would walk in on the three of us and I just kept coming and my girlfriend kept saying, "Come, come inside of me, come—that's it: come," and I followed her orders until my knees felt weak and I slid out of her and her roommate summed it up best with, "Jesus Christ, that's a big load."

I may have said, "Thank you," but I'm not sure. The only thing I knew for sure at that moment was that things couldn't get much better, and as I crawled under my girlfriend's covers on her bed, and she crawled in beside me with the happiest smile I had ever seen, I was completely OK with that being the best moment of my life.


Looking back on it, meeting Maria might have been the luckiest moment of my life.

I was studying late in the main University library on a Thursday night during my third year of professional school when I ran into her. At the time, I had just turned twenty-seven, and while all of my friends had graduated and then earned jobs, I had stayed in school, convinced that a better way to riches was more schooling. But it was all good, as Nicole, my girlfriend since the first week of college, was staying, too.

Two weeks before my 27th birthday, Nicole dumped me after getting hired for a job in Florida. I told her I'd go with her. She told me, "Don't bother." And that was that.

So there I was: twenty-seven and single and up to my forehead in debt, unsure if what I had been studying was even worth it anymore. I was looking for a book of articles in my subject of "expertise" in the library dedicated to that subject, but found out that it had been rented out more than a year ago and that asshole had never returned it.


There was really only one article in that collection that I wanted to read for something that I was working on, and I found out that it was in a journal in the University's main library. I tried to avoid that place as much as possible since the undergraduates who studied there always seemed so fucking obnoxious, always talking or texting, seemingly unaware that people were actually there to do some work. I hated those little bastards.

It was a conscious effort on my part to forget that I was just like them not so long ago.

But on Thursday nights, all the bars downtown had great drink specials and didn't look too hard at that ID that may have been a fake. So, on those nights, the little freshmen and sophomores abandoned campus and headed toward cheap (and shitty) beer, strong Long Islands and even stronger hangovers.

C'est la vie. The main library was mine.

I went to where the journal was usually kept, but that part of the library had closed by the time I got there. I was just going to give up when I decided to check one more place, up in the older part of the library where not a whole lot of people ventured anymore. They stored some really old crap up there but also rented out "cages" to graduate and professional students—and a few, brave undergads—who wanted a home-away-from-home place to study. I could never have rented a "cage" based merely on its name—yet, some of students actually did, and one of my classmates—Michael—was one of them.

There's not a lot to say about Michael, so I'll be brief. In my time at this university, he and I were something akin to friends, but we never hung out together, and after we finally got the hell out of that place, we never saw each other again. At that time, though, we were working on a similar project, and I figured he might have the journal I needed with him in his cage.

I found the elevator in the back of a nearly deserted café that was about to close and pressed the UP button. When it opened, I got in and chose the button marked 8M. That worried me, that I was going to a floor that wasn't entirely a floor by itself, like something out of a Harry Potter book, or, much more worrisome, a movie about being stuck in John Malkovich's head.

The elevator churned and coughed its way up seven-and-a-half floors before the doors opened once more. Poorly lit, 8M seemed like something out of an illiterate's nightmare: books and shadows everywhere while the only people present were from the worst area of life—academia.

A sign in front of me stated that cages 100-199 were to my left and cages 200-295 were to my right. I hadn't been up there since I was a sophomore and couldn't remember where, exactly, Michael had said his cage was located—in the 100s or the 200s? I thought the latter, so I took off to the right.

The poorly lit room played with me as I searched for my classmate. I thought I saw shadows moving and books hanging in the air. I felt like I had fallen back in time to when the University first opened, right after the Revolution. Students back then supposedly used candles to get around the library (which doesn't seem safe), and I thought I'd have better luck with a candle than with the shitty light.

I checked my watch—almost eleven. Great. Almost another night entirely wasted.

I thought I heard something behind me and spun around—to nothing. Putting my hand on my chest, I willed myself to calm down. "Just the shadows," I said to me and only me. "Calm the fuck down."

And then the blonde-headed girl next to me said, "Who the hell are you talking to?"


A small blade of sunlight hit my eyes. I reached my hand for Maria's and found it, gripped it and she gripped back. I lifted my other hand to block the sunlight, opened my eyes, saw Maria—she smiled, I smiled.

A romantic moment.

Except for the board at my waist with a hole cut into it through which my cock and balls lay.

Maria had mentioned this before—wanting to try a cockboard to either jack me off or fuck me. I was never opposed to it, but last night, when I came into her while she was bent over her desk, was the first time I had gotten off around her.

Thinking about last might, my cock stirred. Maria saw it, and laughed.

"What time is it?" I asked her.


"Oh, shit." I had class at 11. "I gotta get out of here."

She laughed, and a stray piece of blonde hair fell across her face. She looked beautiful. "You really have been out of it," she said, pushing back the hair. "It's Spring Break, honey."

"Oh." I paused, then: "How are we still in your house? Shouldn't it be closed?"

"It is closed—but I'm President-elect. We're the only ones here."

I looked to my left. Maria's roommate, Carmen, was looking at us from her bed. I looked back to Maria.

"Well, who's gonna tape?" she said, and laughed, and grabbed my dick.

"Wait," Carmen said, and got out of bed wearing a white t-shirt that ended just above her waist—and nothing else. She, too, had a shaved pussy.

"You better hurry," Maria said slowly, looking ready to do whatever she was about to do to me.

I'll do my best to describe Maria and Carmen. Maria, I consider an angelic blonde. Her naturally blonde hair falls just past her shoulders. Right now, sitting in front of me, she's wearing a tight, white tank-top that shows off her perfect full breasts. Currently, she's horny—I can tell from the way her nipples are pushing against the tank-top. She has decided not to wear a bra this morning. She has very smooth skin, somewhat tanned, but not so much. She's on the shorter end of the spectrum, coming in at—I would guess—5'2". But her legs are so perfect that they seem longer, and right now, I'm running a finger up her bare legs toward her pussy—of which I've eaten out plenty by now. She's got a bit of a rump, but it looks great it in just about anything—jeans, shorts, skirts—or nothing. She often wears thongs, and right now, she's got on a little black g-string. She knows that I'm an ass man and often buries hers in my face for long periods of time and lets me go to work on her.

Before last night, though, I hadn't seen her in eight weeks. But back to that in a bit.

Carmen, whom I've met only once previously, is half-white, half-African-American. And almost as beautiful as Maria. Carmen's got dark brown hair and her physical appearance mirrors Maria—though her boobs aren't as big and neither is her ass. Still, both look great, and as she walks over with the camera, ready to film me and Maria again, I notice that she isn't wearing a bra either and decided against putting on underwear. My bad luck.

Carmen pulled up a chair, took a seat and turned on the camera. "OK. I'm ready."

Maria hasn't taken her eyes off of my semi-erect cock since she first gripped it. Now, she doesn't say a word but uses her other—left—hand and starts massaging my balls while she uses her right thumb to play with my cock head. I gasp—it feels wonderful.

"What are you going to do to him?"

I'm wondering that myself.

"Make him come," Maria says, voice full of lust—pure lust. It couldn't be sexier.

"I'm zooming in on his cock—what's that piece of plywood, Maria?"

"That's called a cockboard. I got it from a girl who graduated last year," she said, still massaging and rubbing slowly. I'm now fully erect. "She cut out a hole in it and used on her boyfriends. The dick goes through the hole—as you can see—and she can either strap the guy down or let him be. Either way, he's a bit trapped at the waist, and, of course, I've got the goods in my hands." She looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.

"Why didn't you strap him down?"

"Craig's had a tough couple of weeks. He hasn't come since I met him until last night."


"He never had the time." She twisted my balls a little, causing me to sit up. "Isn't that right?"


"Jesus," Carmen muttered. "If I were you, I'd make him suffer."

Eyes locked with mine, Maria said, "But I'm not you." She let up on my balls and stroked me a little faster. She spit on my cock—that was the first time a girl had done that. It was hot. "Why don't you tell Craig what you would do with him?"

Carmen said, "I keep yards of string near my bed. I like to take it and wrap some around the guy's balls—tight—let him know who's in charge. I pull it, let him know that he's gotta do what I say—or he might not be coming for a long time."

Carmen laughed. Maria stroked. I moaned.

Carmen said, "Then, holding the string, I either make the guy eat my pussy or fuck me hard, make sure I get to come before he does. Sometimes, if the guy's pretty good, I'll make him make me come twice or three times before I decided what to do with him."

She stopped talking, then: "Damn, Maria, look at the pre-cum. His cock's glistening. Aren't you gonna try some of that?"

Still looking me in the eye, still stroking slowly—but somewhat faster: "Nope."

"Can I, then?"

"No. He's mine, Carm."


"Keep telling Craig what you'd do to him. I think he likes it."

I spoke—or tried to. "I'm...I feel close."

Maria said, "Not yet."

Carmen said, "Well, if the guy's lucky, I let him come. Usually, I don't fuck. There's gotta be a connection there, you know? If I'm still horny, once in a while I'll suck the guy off, swallow his cum. It tastes OK, you know?"

"Oh, I know." Speeding up.

I said, "I'm not going to last."


"Usually," Carmen said, "I jack the guy off, give him a good handjob. But I don't stop! After he comes, I keep going, make the guy scream and holler. Then I have to shave my pussy in his face to shut him up. I'm surprised guys keep coming back for more. You think I'd have some sort of reputation by now."

"Some guys like pain," Maria said, taking away her left hand from my dick but pumping madly with her right. She tickled my balls with her left hand, gently palming them. "Do you like pain, Craig?"

I couldn't think. I knew she could make things painful right then, but I couldn't think because I was about to come.

"I'm about...I'm about to..."

I was completely vulnerable to her.

She gently rubbed my nuts. "Come," she said. "Come right now, Craig. Come for me. Come."

And I did—a shot that went right into the air and hit Maria across her ample cleavage. And then another, smaller shot of cum, followed by several smaller ones, until she had drained me.

From behind the camera, Carmen said, "Keep going."

"No," Maria said. "I'm not going to do that to him."

"Lucky fucker," Carmen said, powering down the camera.

"How are you feeling?"

I said, "I feel great. You're amazing, Maria."

She smiled. I was starting to love that smile.

Carmen looked at Maria's breasts. "Are you going to try that?"

Confused, Maria looked down and saw what Carmen was talking about: my cum. She laughed. "No," and then, anticipating her next question, said, "Go ahead."

Carmen got out of her chair and leaned over me. I could tell her pussy was drenched. I very much wanted to taste it. But instead I settled for watching her lick my jizz off the top of my girlfriend's breasts.

"Mmmm. He tastes pretty good, Maria."

Again, she laughed. It was music to my ears.

"How about you, Craig—want something to eat?"

I nodded and she lifted the board off of me, and the three of us went downstairs to grab some food.


"Who the hell are you talking to?"

I jumped—the girl scared me that badly. "Jesus," I said, heart beating fast.

She took a step forward. "Hey," she said. "Hey, it's OK. Calm down."

"You scared me."

"Yeah, I got that. Just calm down, OK?"

I looked at her in the poorly lit library, and immediately thought she was beautiful. She was wearing a hoodie with the name of our university across the chest, light blue jeans with "fashionable" rips in them and flip-flops. She smiled and said, "Are you OK now?"

"Yeah." I coughed, cleared the lump in my throat. "Yeah, I'm OK. Sorry. I just didn't expect anyone else to be around here."

"Yep, it's pretty deserted this time of the week. You're the first person I've seen in about two hours."

Her comment surprised me—not that she hadn't seen anyone for two hours but that she had been here for that long. I don't mean that to sound sexist or rude, but I could tell she was younger, most definitely an undergraduate, and from personal experience, I knew that very close to all attractive female undergrads were hitting the bars at this time.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

"Looking for a book on Ezra Pound. The computer said it would be up here. I'm kind of lost, though—I've never been in this part of the library before."

"No, I mean—I mean the library, in general. Shouldn't you be out?"

She glared at me. "Don't be a dick," she said, this girl I just met. Of course, looking back on it, I had just offended her. "I go out plenty. I went out a ton last year and it wasn't all that. What the fuck's so great about having a half-dozen drunken frat boys pawing my ass in public?"

"Hey, I'm sorry. I just meant—."

"You said what you meant."

She had me there. I put down my hands and drooped my shoulders. Here's this beautiful blonde that just appeared out of nowhere, and I had already fucked up things. "I'm sorry, OK? I'm just sorry." I turned around. "Good luck finding your book."

I again began looking for Michael's cage. She didn't come after me, and that was OK. I didn't expect her to. It's not like I'm a knockout or anything. Hell, I'd put on a few pounds since things ended with Nicole when I needed to shed about ten. So—yeah: I would've been surprised as hell if the hot blonde had followed me.

About ten minutes later, I finally spotted Michael at his cage. He heard me and looked up, surprised. "Hey, Craig, what're you doing here?"

I told him what I was looking for you. "Do you have it?"

He held up the journal. "Got it this morning. You're slacking again, bro. Nicole on your mind?"

Fucking Nicole. "No. Just going at things my own pace. Mind if I borrow it? Or are you not done using it?"

He tossed it to me and I caught it. "No, go for it, man. It's pretty useful."

Finally—some good news. "Thanks. I should have it for you on Saturday."

Waving me away, he said, "Don't bother. Just bring it to class on Monday." Then he paused, and as I was about to walk away, he said, "Hey, did you see that girl up here?"

I nodded. "Blonde in a gray hoodie?"

"That's the one."

"Yeah, I just saw here. Scared the shit out of me. Why?"

He winked at me. "She's something, man."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first of all, she's hot. Secondly, got a smoking bod. You can tell even with her wearing that hoodie. And third, I hear she's some hotshot at one of the big sororities on campus. Smart, sexy and a great body—the axis of evil, my friend."

"What sorority?"

He shrugged. "No idea. Not my scene."

"Know her name?"

"Nah, we've never talked. She's got a cage near here, though."

What? "She told me she's never been up to this part of the library."

Again, he shrugged. "Who knows, man?"

I sure as hell didn't. I lifted up the journal. "Thanks again, Michael."

"Hope it's useful, man."

I waved and walked away, back to the elevator. Walking, I couldn't help but think about the girl and her great smile. She was definitely beautiful. I wished I hadn't fucked up things by opening my stupid mouth before thinking, but I had, and there was nothing I could do about it now. It did bother me, though, about why she lied about being up there. I tried dropping it. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter.

When I got to the elevator, she was standing there with a backpack slung across one shoulder, holding the book in the other hand. She heard me coming and frowned when she saw it was me.

"Get the book you were looking for?"

"I did." She didn't look at me.

"Is it one of his poetry? Or one about him?"

That got her attention. She turned and gave a crooked smile. "It's one about him."

I nodded, not knowing what else to say, and focused my attention on the approaching elevator. From the corner of my eye, I saw that she was still giving me that crooked smile. It was cute.

She turned and stuck out her hand. "I'm Maria."

I turned and accepted it. "Craig." I tried to let go but she hung on.

"Craig, since you were such an asshole to me earlier, how about buying me a cup of coffee across the street?"

I couldn't help it: I laughed. This girl, she definitely had an attitude about her. And I liked it. "Sure," I said. "That sounds nice."


The three of us got something to eat in the sorority's kitchen and then all took showers—separately, unfortunately. For the rest of the day, the girls worked on some homework that had been assigned over break and I cruised the Internet, checking out some pop culture and sports stories that I had missed since being so pre-occupied. At night, we watched a couple of movies, and then went to bed—Carmen in her bed, Maria and I in hers, my arm wrapped around her, holding her tight, not ever wanting to let go.

The House on Hibiscus Street

The women at the Baptist church said a girl that pretty shouldn't be left alone. A young lady should have a husband who stays at home and doesn't stay gone for weeks at a time. Those women at church were lucky to have husbands that worked in town and came home at night. They were fortunate to have husbands that still found their corpulent forms desirable enough to sink into in the darkness of their bedrooms. It was easy for them to cluck when they were satisfied on a regular basis.

They said she was 'just precious.' 'Just precious' could mean cute, pretty, lame, simple, or backwoods. Or it could just mean precious.

Alice knew that her husband needed the work. He was in the oil field in East Texas and Southern Arkansas, working with teams of men sinking steel and iron pipe into the ground to find the lakes of black gold under the earth. Oil Money was Big Money and Big Money was Good Money. It was dangerous work, and her husband Jimmy would come home with tales of men who had been crushed, mangled, burned. She was always grateful to see him, and glad that he was well and whole. She was happy to be filled by him, happy to feel the weight of him on top of her, happy for his scent after they were done and waiting to love again.

On the other hand, she was always a little happy when he went back to the piney woods. It gave her a chance to tend to her pride and joy, her house. She kept it spotless, floors not only mopped but waxed and shined. Blinds dusted. Rugs vacuumed. Kitchen tidy, always tidy. Laundry washed, dried and put away. It was easier when he was away and she didn't have to pick up after him.

As she pruned back the azaleas in her immaculately kept flower beds, she thought of the oilfield shantytown and wondered if at night they drank and played cards and if women were brought in. She scratched her nose with her forearm and imagined it as a Stag Party, but with a daily chance of dismemberment and death. She raked the azalea cuttings into a pile and came to the conclusion that the men were likely too tired for any of that debauchery. At the end of the day, all they wanted was a meal and a bed.

They could afford to move, she and Jimmy, but memories in the house on Hibiscus Street were beginning to pile up and anchor them there. Silent, heavy memories of their new married life, the hopes for children to come and be raised by them in that house with a screen porch and a swing. A patch for a kitchen garden in the back, and neighbors to chat with over a honeysuckle covered fence. A garage for Jimmy to putter in when he was in from the field.

She did alterations out of her home not because they needed any extra income, but because she enjoyed it and it kept her occupied. Her clients, some of the same women who frowned on her household arrangement, were her always appreciative of her work. They knew good quality when they saw it, and they felt good quality when they wore it. She knew all the tricks to eliminate the look of thirty extra pounds. How to make A cups look like C s, B cups look like D s. How to make short, stumpy legs look longer and more elegant.

And every afternoon she retreated to a secret garden within the walls of the bungalow house on Hibiscus Street. At mid-afternoon, she would turn the sign on the screen door from 'Come in!' to 'Be Back in Fifteen minutes.' The curtains would close and her clothes would come off. She would lie back on her bed or sprawl on the couch or slump in one of the steel-and-vinyl kitchen chairs and bring herself to a boil. But when she was finished she was only partially satisfied. She wanted to feel the firmness of a man's hands on her.

She was lonesome for her husband, but when her fingers circled herself, her mind danced playfully like a barefoot girl in a summer dress in the flowers, imagining the different combinations of men, and sometimes women, who would pleasure her and be pleasured by her. Sometimes she fantasized about wandering into the oil field shantytown unannounced and being taken by her husband, and then by the rest of the men right in the middle of the muddy camp, one by one and then two by two, black and white. When she was done and her chest was heaving, she felt remorse about the wicked thoughts she had entertained and the unclean things she had done to herself.

On the Sundays when the topic of the sermon was Sins of the Flesh, Alice thought she could feel the lights shine on her alone. Every pound on the lectern buffeted her core and more than once she winced as the preacher did it. When he put his hands on the lectern and leaned in to rail against the evils of 'parn-ogra-FEEE,' she felt he was looking straight at her. She had never seen any pornography, but she thought she might like to.

She fanned herself under her bonnet, not from the heat but from the thoughts that had already found her again there in church. Thoughts that were making her skin red and the silk panties wet under her floral print A line dress. After a quick white-gloved fingertip handshake and a 'fine sermon, Brother Howe' she clicked home shakily on her heels with a blank slate that was already a little less clean from a fresh batch of impure thoughts.

One afternoon she was altering a debutante dress for a girl and her mother. The mother's blue-black hair had been sculpted into a ball of sorts and then lacquered down. The girl wore a ponytail and a skirt with bobby socks and Mary Janes. She chewed gum saucily as she and her mother fought over the neckline of the dress. The line of scrimmage surged up and down.

"But Ma-maaaaa. All the girls wear 'em this low these days."

Alice listened with a tape measure draped over her shoulders. It cascaded over her breasts and the ends dangled at her trim waist. Alice knew what the girl meant: this was how low the necklines were for the girls who wanted the boys to look and get hard and want to look again as they imagined the nipple just out of sight, like a strawberry or a raspberry, warm and ripe and firm and ready to be picked.

"What do you think?" The girl's mother's voice was distant and directed Alice's attention like a tug on her sleeve.

"She's right, ma'am. They have dropped a little in the last few years." In the corner of her eye, she could see the girl smile. Then Alice added, "Maybe we could bring it down...just a little." The girl's smile faded slightly as Alice pinned the neckline. The two left, the mother's gloves draped over the purse in her hand.

Alice had just sat down to a light lunch, wishing she had something to go with her tuna fish, something tangy and sweet like a strawberry. She looked through a folded back copy of Harper's Bazaar. A knock on the screen door caught her attention, and she put down the sandwich and the magazine. Her hands rubbed together to get the crumbs off. She swallowed hurriedly and called, "Who is it?"

"Excuse me, are you Mrs. Cotton? The man asked through the dirty gray of the screen door. He was looking up from a slip of paper in his hand. His outline was all she could see. At first Alice thought that somehow Gregory Peck was in town and had stopped to see her. Her mind could imagine things like that.

"The clerk at Jordan and Booth told me I could get these pants hemmed here." Alice made out the wide dark ribbon of something draped over his arm. His free hand shaded his eyes as he peered through the mesh. "Says you're the best."

Her voice found her and she said, "Oh, they flatter me, then. Do come in, you've come to the right place."

She opened the door for him and could not help notice how tall and trim he was. He removed his hat like a gentleman was supposed to when going indoors and she took it to hang up like a lady always did. He wore a light gray suit and a tie like a man that worked indoors.

She pulled a pencil from behind her ear. The end of her ponytail had snaked into her shirt, and she flipped it out. "Name, sir?" she asked.

"Robert Bass. Bobby."

"Allllllrightsir," she chimed as she finished writing. She snapped the manila paper ticket along the perforation and gave it to him. "Change behind the screen, if you please."

It was a free standing screen in pleated black and red with a golden scene of Japanese maidens reclining by a stream. The shape of their umbrellas echoed the dome of Mt. Fuji which loomed in the distance. Alice rarely got men clients, and was always at a loss on where to wait while they changed. She turned her back to the screen and the rustle of fabric behind it. His voice said, "There a good place to eat in this town?

"You new?"

"Yes ma'am. Just moved from Atlanta. Me and the wife and our daughter."

"Well, you can try Herby Ks, if you don't mind the colored part of town. It's real good," Alice said to the wall. " And there's the Carousel on Kings Highway."

He emerged from the screen with the excess pants legs puddled around his feet.

"Step up here," she said, motioning to a small platform. "Cuff?"

"Yes ma'am, please. A cuff."

She knelt down, glad that she had worn jeans today instead of a dress. The denim legs were rolled up to mid calf over the smooth skin that was dappled with light brown freckles. Her orange plaid shirt was knotted at her waist. Her hands deftly rolled up the gray flannel surplus and she took a pin from her lips and skewered the cuff in place.

"Is it true what they say about redheads?" he looked down and asked.

"What?" she muffled between the pins at her lips. She held the cuff in place and took the pins out of her mouth with her other hand. "What was that?" She looked up at him with green, orange-lashed eyes.

"Is it true what they say about redheads? Terrible tempers?"

Alice stabbed a pincushion shaped like a mouse with the pins. "Oh, I don't know." She smiled down at the hem and pulled the pants leg down and taut. "I'm more of a pussycat." She blushed at saying pussy-anything in front of him and immediately wished she had chosen a different word. She pivoted around to his front to check that side of the cuff. Her face was inches from his crotch and she thought she could smell the mustiness of his excitement. Her panties moistened, and she blushed again and moved to the back.

He turned to look over his shoulder and when he did the back of her hand grazed his buttocks. It was momentary, but she was struck by the firmness, the muscularity of it. She looked away, and he smiled but otherwise pretended not to notice. She took the pins from her mouth and pinned the rest of the cuff. The remaining pins she put in a blue and white porcelain dish.

She snapped the pants leg tight. "That should do it. Ready three to five days." She was sure her face was still red.

"Change?" he asked. His voice sounded like it was in the next room or the next house or across town or on the other side of the world.

"Excuse me? What was that?"

"Can I change now? Into the pants I wore here?"

"Oh. Oh, behind the screen there. I'll...I'll leave you to it." He disappeared behind Mt. Fuji. The Japanese ladies smiled like they knew a secret. She went into the parlor and sat on the couch.

He emerged changed and she saw him to the door, giving him his hat and jacket. She watched him make the steps and then turn at the sidewalk. When he had made the corner, she opened a crack in the screen door and flipped the sign. Back in Fifteen Minutes.

That night she dreamed about him. She dreamed that she was on her knees to pin the cuff of his pants, which were ridiculously long. Then his cock was out of his pants through the fly and she took it and he got hard there inside of her mouth. Her hands squeezed his flannel covered ass, firm and nothing but muscle. He was hard in her mouth and she went up and down his length. She awoke from her dream and could not summon it back again.

It wasn't even a week when he returned. She was putting gussets in a skirt for a lady and listening to the radio. The Guiding Light muttered, "Richard, is there someone else?" and two notes from a French horn highlighted the drama. A Diet Rite wrapped in a paper towel sweated on the side table. The sewing machine whirred in short bursts as Alice fed the fabric into it. The screen door strained the breeze and gave it a metallic fragrance.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Cotton."

She looked up and jumped.

"Oh, you scared me," she said, putting her hand to her chest.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I knocked twice and I guess you didn't hear me. So I was worried. "

"Oh, that was sweet of you."

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"No really, that's alright." She chuckled. "What can I do for you today, Mr. Bass?"

"Please, Bobby. I'd like the buttons let out on this jacket." He pulled the lapels together in the front.

"Your wife must be a good cook."

"Oh, she doesn't cook much. Busy with the baby."

Alice's green eyes were on the blue-and-white seersucker sleeves. Bobby's eyes were on hers.

"How 'bout you?" He asked.

"How about what?" She motioned for him to lift his arms.

"You're married, right? I can see the ring."

She looked at her wedding ring like it had just appeared there. A block over, a heavy truck accelerated down Greenwood Road. Its deep-throated rumble sent a tiny tremor through the window panes of the house.

"Oh. Oh, yes. Yes, I'm married. He's gone a lot. The oil patch."

"Oh," he nodded. "I see." A woman and a man spoke of serious matters on the radio in the next room.

She moved to the front of him and snapped the jacket down. The back of her hand brushed the bulge in his trousers. It was an accident, really it was.

"Pardon," she murmured.

"That's ok." He said quietly. Their eyes locked for a moment and she looked down. He lightly lifted her chin and their eyes were locked again.

Their hands cradled each others' faces, palms pressing into cheeks, fingers at the nape of their necks. Their lips rubbed wet on each other. They were locked in a moment that would never, ever, end.

He broke the kiss.

"No, we can't," he exhaled

"You're right, we can't," she agreed. But it was a lie. They could and they did.

They kissed again like two people drinking the last ounce of water from a canteen in the desert. Without breaking their kiss, they undressed each other. Buttons were jerked out of their buttonholes. Clasps were undone with shaky hands. Shirttails were uprooted. A dress fell to the floor. One hand wandered over the point of her beige silk bra while the other wedged in the front of her panties. She kissed his neck. His undershirt came up and she kissed his nipples. Inside her panties, his hand rested in the soft nest of hair as his finger went further south in search of moisture. She sighed when he found it.

She reached behind herself and unhooked her bra and threw it aside like it was an annoyance. He kissed down her chest and beheld her small breasts, nipples pert and aching. They were firm in his mouth. He moved from one to the other as if he were comparing the taste and firmness of them. Her thumbs hooked inside the waistband of her panties and she shimmied them down to the shining hardwood floor.

She took his hand and they walked naked to the bedroom. After a kiss more, he was over her and the kiss after that, inside her. He huffed and grunted with each stroke. Her small hands pressed into his chest. From time to time she looked into his face to see the ecstasy there. His mouth slack, his eyes closed. She surged ahead and reached the summit just before he did, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He gave one final push and spent himself inside her.

Afterward he sat on the side of the bed facing away from her with his face in his hands. She looked at the wall and tried to listen for all the afternoon noises in the neighborhood. Finally, she turned to him and stroked his back.

"What have we done?" He mumbled into his hands.

She rubbed his back with her fingertips and stared into the ceiling.

"I don't know," she murmured. "But I liked it."

"I did too," he admitted. He turned to her and smiled, a whisper of a smile, a grudging smile and he turned and lifted the covers and their bodies pressed together again. They pecked a kiss and she nestled her head under his chin. Her hand pressed into his stout, hair covered chest and trailed down to the other patch of hair, which was matted wet with their passion. She rose and straddled him, and they were off again. Her breasts hung pointed at him as if he were the center of all gravity.

Almost every day, he fell into the habit of bringing in the same pair of pants. If she had another customer, he would wait on the front porch. When the lady left, he would tip his hat to her. He and Alice would stand looking at each other's dark image through the screen door and he would say for the benefit of the person leaving, "I still don't think the length is right. Can you take it up a little?"

And when the engine in the drive way rumbled to life, Alice would move to the door. As the customer's car cleared the corner, she ushered him in quickly and reached a hand through the screen door to flip the sign. Back in Fifteen Minutes. The door lock snapped and the curtains closed.

Then they would rush together, exhaling hot breath on each other's necks as hands fumbled with belts, bras and trousers. Sometimes they would stumble hand in hand to the bedroom, their feet pounding on the hardwood floors, their hearts pounding in their chests. Sometimes they wouldn't make it past the couch. Sometimes not past the floor.

Often they would find themselves naked on the bed, she sitting on his lap with her legs around him. She clutched him like a shipwreck survivor would clutch a buoy, a buoy that was bobbing frenetically in a choppy sea. He put his hands under her buttocks so he could feel their hair mingle and his cock pull her delicate pink lips back and forth. Her nails dug into his back as she came hard, shouting through clenched teeth and bucking her hips into him. He respired hurriedly, blowing like a steam engine, and then a muted primal moan signaled his release.

Afterward, she would rub his back as he complained of tight muscles there. A thought would barge into her mind like an intruder about her poor husband in the oilfield dodging swaying pipe in the mud and dust and heat and cold, and she would contrast it to Bobby who only lifted a pencil or a briefcase. But then those kinds of thoughts were swept away like dry leaves by a whirlwind of passion and desire.

Only once did they spend the night together. Bobby parked around the corner in the A & P parking lot on Greenwood Road and walked down Hibiscus Street, with a pair of slacks over his arm. He had told his wife that he would be in Alexandria for the night on business.

Alice had planned everything, a romantic dinner, slow dancing to the radio in the living room, a nearly see-through ivory negligee. But she had forgotten to get more condoms.

The thought had crossed her mind when she and Jimmy had used the last one, when he had come in from the oilfield the last time. She was mindful of them now, careful not to have too many or too few in the drawer of the nightstand, worried that Jimmy would be suspicious of any change in the inventory.

When the crucial moment came calling for one, she was kissing Bobby and blindly searching the drawer for one. His length was poised at her opening, feeling the magnetic force of her wet pinkness. She broke their kiss and leaned over to look in the bedside drawer. In her exasperation she rifled through the drawer, tossing out slips of paper and dog-eared paperback books.

"No more rubbers," she said. She released their embrace and collapsed back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He was braced on his hands, arms straightened above her. "What do we do now?" she asked.

"I'll pull out," he said. The yellow lamplight fell on just one side of his face.

She thought about it. She didn't trust his willpower for that. Or her own, for that matter. She slid under him, kissing his chest and then kissing further down. He rolled on his back and she moved to his side. Leaning over him, she took him in her mouth. After a few head bobs like a bird in a mating ritual, she released him, stroked him with her hand and said, "How is it? Am I doing it right?" She had never done it before, with Jimmy or with anyone, though she had imagined it.

Receptionist's Mother

How I hooked up with my receptionist's mother....

I just started working for a company at the beginning of the week and on Friday the receptionist came around and said that there is going to be a company wide meeting with our other branches in Williamsburg, VA. She said that she had to have the final count of the people attending to the main office by the end of the day. Everyone could either bring there wife and children or 1 person with them. Since I was new to the area I didn't have any family or friends that I would take. I was debating weather or not to go by myself and Crystal the receptionist said she was bringing her mother and that it wouldn't be all work related so I should go. She said it will be fun you'll get to know more people. She talked me into it and I signed up to go by myself.

The following Friday after work everyone who was going, headed to Williamsburg, VA for our company meeting on Saturday. Than on Sunday you could either go to old town Williamsburg or Busch Garden's amusement park. It was about a 3 ½ hour drive with traffic and I arrived around 9pm at the hotel where we were staying and the meeting was being held. I checked into my room and headed to the lounge to see if any of my other coworkers had arrived yet. I noticed a couple around the bar and joined them for a few cocktails. There was a disc jockey that started around 10pm. By this time there were several more people who showed up and everyone was looking to have a good time.

By this time I had had a few cocktails and can tend to be a social person when I have a few beverages. I was sitting with a Susan a PM assistant that started the same day I did. She had brought her 21 year old sister so I was having fun getting her a little intoxicated. I saw Crystal walked in with an older lady I assumed who was her mother since she said that is who she was bringing. I wasn't surprised that Crystal was the last to arrive. Don't take me wrong but Crystal is 40 has a great body and a good personality but she can be clueless sometimes. She saw me sitting with Susan and her sister and headed over and introduced her mother to us. Her name was Sherri. Sherri stated they would have been a lot earlier but apparently Crystal had the wrong name of the hotel and they went to another location first. We all laughed and asked if they wanted to join us at our table. With that I ordered more shots and continued the evening of getting Susan's sister drunk.

I was surprised and think I got caught doing a once over of Sherri when I was introduced to her. I shock her hand I did a once up and down look at her. She just smiled as I introduced myself. She was older and I found out later that she was 60. To describe her she is average build and dresses business casual with a little sex appeal for a lady her age. She had well manicured hands and her clothes were pressed and form fitting. I could tell that she took good care of herself and her look.

We sat there for awhile drinking and chatting. When the disc jockey played a song that Susan's sister wanted to dance to I agreed. It helped that her sister had a nice ass and could shake it also. Since I'm 30, I had no problem dancing with a younger hot chick. We danced a few songs and headed back to the table. Other guys from work started coming by the table and asking Amanda to dance, which she apparently didn't mind. After they danced they proceeded to have a shot. Shortly she was trashed.

In the mean time I was chatting with Sherri and found out that she was a real estate agent in the Washington DC area. We had some things in common and were having a good conversation. Sherri asked if I wanted to dance and I took her up on it. We danced a couple of songs and 1 slow song together. During the slow dance I started thinking that this lady is a couple of years older than my mom and I am finding myself attracted to her. I was like wow and wondering if it was the alcohol. After the song we went back and sat at the table. We had a few more drinks and the DJ announced it was the last song and Amanda who was trashed grabbed my hand and headed to the dance floor. I was kind of disappointed I wanted to dance with Sherri. By the end of the song Amanda was about passed out. I helped her back to the table and told Susan I would help her take her sister back to her room. It was about 1am and our meeting started at 8am in the morning. I was thinking that morning was going to come pretty early.

I said goodnight to Crystal and her mother and helped Amanda back to her room. It took both Susan and I to get her back. We brought her in and she basically passed out on the bed. I told Susan she is going to feel terrible in the morning and good thing she doesn't have to get up and go to the meeting. Susan laughed and I left at that. I went to my room and went right to sleep. When the alarm went off at 7:15am I had a nice hangover myself. It was a little tough getting ready for the meeting but I made it there about 5 minutes early. Everyone was coming in and I could tell that most were feeling pretty rough.

The meeting lasted until 5pm and than I went back to my room and got ready for dinner at 6pm. It was a company dinner and they handed out a few awards for years of service and the President spoke and thanked all for coming and keep up the hard work.

I was still feeling a little rough from last night and I headed to the lounge to see who was there. I saw Susan and her sister sitting with Crystal and her mom. I walked over and asked Amanda if she wanted a shot and I got the look from hell while everyone else at the table laughed. Apparently everyone was taking it easy tonight and I asked what everyone was doing tomorrow? Susan and her sister where going to Busch Garden's and Crystal and mom where probably going to skip both, like I was doing and heading home early.

I made small talk for a while and decided I was going to head back to my room and watch television for awhile and call it a night. I made my good bys and told Sherri it was nice meeting her and told the others I would see them at work on Monday.

I headed to the restroom and when I came out I saw that Crystal and Sherri had already left. I decided before I head to my room I would go for a walk outside and get a little fresh air. When I came back about 15 minutes later I saw Sherri standing out in one of the courtyards and I walked up and said hi. She smiled at me and we chatted for about 5 minutes and said I was going to head to my room and watch a little television. She shocked me a little bit and asked if I wanted some company because she wasn't ready to head back to her room with Crystal yet, Crystal had a couple of other ladies from work in there room. I said sure come on. I was thinking on my way to the room where was this leading.

When we got to my room I really hadn't thought about it but I only had a king bed and a small table and chairs. So I made the best of it and grabbed a couple of pillows in the closet and said we could prop these up and sit on the bed. There wasn't really anything on television so we were just chatting, laughing and having a good time. I noticed that she was adjusting her neck every once and awhile and I asked if it was bothering her and she said it was a little tight. I took the opportunity and said that I give a great back rub and started massaging her shoulders. She sighed and I could tell that she was enjoying it. I told her that it would be easier if she sat in front of me. I sat up against the head board and positioned her between my legs and started rubbing her shoulders and neck for her.

It all started innocently and I could tell she was enjoying it and getting relaxed. The next thing I know I was starting to get a hardon and didn't want her to notice. All I could think about was this lady is older than my mother. It didn't help my hardon though. I had been rubbing her shoulders for about 10 minutes when she kind of leaned back and rested her back on my chest and kind of stretched her neck out and I don't know what got into me but I gave light kiss on the neck. I felt her stiffen up for a moment and stop and I thought I had over stepped my limit but she let out a deep breath and leaned her head forward and let me continue massaging her shoulders. She moved back against me and I know she could feel my hardon.

So I took that as a signal and I moved my hands down her sides and up her front and cupped her breasts in my hands. She leaned back into me and I started kissing her neck and she let out a soft sigh. I kept rubbing her breast softly and cupping them with my hands. She turned her head to the side and I went from kissing her neck to kissing her on the mouth. They were nice soft little kisses and than we both opened our mouths and let our tongues touch. As we were kissing she had a button up shirt and I started to undo her buttons in a nice slow fashion. After I had her shirt unbutton she was wearing a front clasping bra and I undid that. I moved my hands to her bare breasts and continued to feel them.

After a couple of minutes of this I stooped and moved out from behind her. I had her lay down and I went to unbutton her pants and removed them, she was now laying there in her panties and shirt and bra that were both open. I smiled at her and reached for her panties and removed them from her also. She had a nice little patch that was well trimmed. I laid my hands on her legs and spread them apart getting a nice view. I reached forward and placed my thumbs on each side of her and spread her open revealing her clit to me. I massaged gently with my thumbs and she closed her eyes and enjoyed her self. She wasn't overly vocal but could tell her breathing had increased.

I leaned forward a licked her from as low as I could go to her clit. Keeping my thumbs on each side of her I started licking her clit and could feel it hardening, with a nice soft movement from my tongue and nothing to aggressive. I did this for a couple of minutes I could tell she was enjoying this. I continued to lick her like this and went to insert my middle finger into her. I moved it in as far as I could and felt her hips to start moving with the rhythm of my finger. She was getting nice and wet. I pulled my finger out while still licking her and than inserted 2 fingers in her. She let out a moan and started moving her hips even more. After about a minute of this she shook her head and told me to stop. She looked at me and said she needed me inside of her and now. I was pretty horny at this time and didn't need to be told twice. I stripped off my clothes as quick as I could. I climbed back up on the bed and she reached for my cock and guided it to her entrance. She moved it up and down her a couple of times and got my head wet. She than put her other hand on my lower back and pulled me to her while guiding my cock into her.

I let myself enter her completely and I stopped when I was fully inside of her and gave a couple of little thrusts. She placed her hands on my hips and guided me about halfway out and than back in, just a nice slow pace. I don't think I could have been any harder. I kept the pace slow knowing that if I went to fast I would not last very long. I kept the same pace but I was now almost coming completely out her with each thrust. Right before I would pull out I would thrust back into her completely. I kept this pace up for a couple of minutes and just enjoyed the feeling. I was getting into this and I could tell that I was getting less sensitive and that I would be able to increase the pace and last for awhile.

As I increased the pace she was holding me tighter and her moans were getting louder. I could hear the bed rocking up against the head board and this made me increase my pace even more. I was giving everything I had I could tell she was getting closer to an orgasm. The pace and angle I was hitting her was feeling really good. Her orgasm hit her quickly and she grabbed on as tight as she could to my hips and her body almost went stiff. She called out oh my god and released a big sigh. I was so hard by now and close myself that I picked up the pace and the tighter she held on the harder I thrust. It was a matter of seconds and I released several huge spurts of cum into her. Coming down from our orgasms I lay on top of her total spent. We just enjoyed the moment together. I looked up and said wow. I don't think I have ever cum that hard before. She just smiled and I rolled off the top of her and she got up and went to the bathroom. It hit me than, that I just had great sex with a lady that is a couple of years older than my own mother. It was like wow.

I could hear her peeing in the bathroom and than the sink ran for about 30 seconds. When she came back out she had did her bra and had buttoned up her shirt but was still naked from the waist down. She was carrying a warm washcloth and said that she liked to clean her man up after sex. Using the wash cloth she gave my cock and balls a good slow washing taking her time. She bent over took me in her mouth and went down on me completely and than sucked the tip of my head and gave it a kiss. It was getting me hard again and I said round 2. She said she had to get back to her room and Crystal before she came looking for her. With that she got dressed and I lay there naked watching her and she came over gave me a peck on the lips smiled at me and left my room.

I was kind of disappointed with her not staying and wondered if she was feeling bad or having second thoughts. I watched television for awhile and fell a sleep.

When I woke up in the morning I showered and got my stuff together for the ride home. I checked out and was heading to my car when I saw Sherri in the parking lot I walked over and said good morning. She said hi. I asked if she was good and she said no. Oh no, what is wrong? She said that she was upset at herself because she didn't stay for round 2. I kind of smiled at that and at that moment Crystal walked up and asked where I had been last night. She hadn't seen me around last night. I told her that I went for a walk and had a little cardio and than cleaned up before I went to sleep. I finished by saying that it was a nice night. She asked if I was glad I came and said I wouldn't have missed it. She said that is funny my mom said the same thing.

With that we parted and that is how my relationship with my receptionist's mother started.

Hawaiian Birthday Party

The trip to Hawaii had been Mike's wish for his birthday. Gail had spent months planning every detail. She even discussed it with her best friends Karen and Janet with their husbands, and it didn't take much convincing to enlist their help. After all, a trip to Hawaii is always enticing. Brian even had a friend with connections on the islands, who made arrangements for them to "rent" a private beach for the night of Mike's birthday.

Their first night on the island, they attended the Paradise Cove Luau. The girls in their grass skirts were beautiful, and as they watched, Gail could tell her husband was getting excited. In fact, all of the men were. Gail looked at Karen and Janet and rolled her eyes, but as they sat there, drinking and watching the dancers, Gail felt a flush on her cheek and a warm wetness between her legs. She licked her lips, glanced nervously at Karen and Janet, then giggled slightly as she realized they were as entranced by the dancers as she and the men were. Later that night, back in their room, Mike grabbed her, pulled her close, and kissed her. They couldn't get out of their clothing fast enough. The sea air, the dancers, the lingering buzz from the alcohol all contributed to a night of vigorous love making.

The next morning she knew what she wanted to do for Mike's birthday party. The first chance she got, she slipped the girls aside and told them her idea.

The night of his birthday, Gail sent Mike, Brian, and Jimmy on ahead to the beach, where they were to build a fire to fend off the slight chill of the night air. She and the girls stayed behind with the excuse that they had last minute food preparations to make for their beach picnic. Once the men had left, she and the other girls made their plans for the night.

By the time the girls arrived at the beach, it was dark. Gail could see Mike and the others where they sat by the fire drinking beer. The musicians she had arranged for the evening's entertainment were already in place. She sent a text to the musicians, and they began playing the same island music as had been played at the luau. Their husbands couldn't see the wives where they were standing further down the beach, but now, they slowly began dancing the hula as they made their way to where their husbands were waiting.

The girls were naked except for their grass skirts. The island breeze caressed Gail's breasts, her nipples hardening. She felt her pussy getting moist. By now they were close enough to the fire that their husbands could see them. The men were staring. Janet was in the lead, and Gail thought she could feel her husband's desire for Janet. As Janet moved around the fire, Karen followed, and all of the men were watching her. Finally, Gail came into the flickering light. Mike smiled when he saw her, and she could feel how much he wanted her, but she moved toward Brian and Jimmy while Janet and Karen danced in front of her husband.

The girls had practiced for several days, but it was very different dancing by the light of the flickering fire, barefoot in the sand. Karen slipped and fell into Mike--or at least, Gail thought she slipped. Knowing Karen, it might all have been planned. Mike put his hands out to catch her and found his hands full of Karen's breasts. She giggled and kissed him, then scrambled back to her feet and danced away.

Gail was so busy watching Mike and Karen that she nearly tripped over Brian's legs. Jimmy caught her arm, his other hand grabbing her thigh through her grass skirt. Gail regained her balance while Jimmy slid his hand up her thigh until he was touching her wet pussy. She heard the sharp intake of his breath as he realized she was completely naked beneath the grass skirt. Behind her, Gail could hear Janet and Karen giggling, and she knew her husband was touching them.

Gail had forgotten about Brian, and she nearly squealed when she felt his hands on her bum. Jimmy's head was under her grass skirt, and she felt his lips on hers, his tongue licking her. She looked over to Mike. He was already naked, his hard cock sliding between Karen's tits, his head under Janet's skirt, she could only imagine, licking Janet the way Jimmy was licking her. Then Gail felt Brian's hard cock pressing against her. She bent forward, and felt his slide into her wet pussy. Jimmy never stopped licking her, only now his tongue was not only sliding over her clit but sliding over Brian's cock as it slid in and out of her.

Her hands were on Jimmy's shoulders for balance as Brian's strokes became more vigorous. She looked over to Mike. Karen was still sliding his cock between her tits. His head was still under Janet's skirt, but Janet was leaning forward, and Karen was kissing her breasts.

Just then, Gail lost her balance and fell forward pushing Jimmy down in front of her, Brian falling with her, his cock pressing deeper into her before he slid out. She, Jimmy, and Brian broke up laughing. Then Jimmy was pulling off his own clothes. His cock, which she had never seen before now, was huge, and she wanted him. She grabbed his cock and slid it into her mouth. Brian was stroking his own cock inches from her face. She pulled Jimmy's cock from her mouth and grabbed his cock, sucking hard on it, tasting her pussy on his cock.

Jimmy stretched out under her, and she felt his cock sliding into her pussy, stretching her, plunging in deep. Brian was grabbing her hair and pulling her head down hard on his cock. She moaned, and Brian's cum filled her mouth while he groaned, shaking all over. Slowly, he slid his cock from her mouth while Jimmy kept hammering her pussy with his huge cock.

Brian moved over to where Mike was now fucking Janet as Karen played with Janet's breasts, caressing her nipples, pinching them. Brian sat in the sand beside the fucking couple and began playing with Karen's breasts and pussy. Watching them, Jimmy's hard cock deep inside her, Gail felt herself building toward climax. She was panting, moaning--they all were making so much noise, and for the first time, Gail thought about the musicians, who all this time had been watching the erotic scene around the fire. The thought of those men, strangers, watching them fuck, made Gail come hard, and her clenching pussy brought Jimmy to a noisy climax as well.

As she came, she heard Mike coming in Janet, and she glanced their way to see Brian fucking Karen from behind while she was kissing Mike. In a few minutes Brian and Mike were also coming.

Afterwards, they were famished. As they ate, the musicians packed up, the men grinning. Gail's face was hot, and as the men left, one of them caught her eye. He winked, and she blushed.

After they ate, still naked, they all walked down to the beach and into the surf. The waves washing over them were warm. Mike was holding her close against him, his chin resting on her shoulder, his arms around her waist. "You are beautiful," he said. It had been a wonderful birthday.

You Can Call Me Dad

Jack Barker watched his girlfriend's son go into the garage, and after making sure that his soon-to-be wife was in the bathroom, went out the back door and toward the garage. Jack had just moved into the modest old farmhouse a couple of days ago, although he had spent a lot of time there in the year he had been courting Alice Randolph.

Jack liked Alice Randolph a lot, but he also had another interest with the same last name, first name Patrick, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the skinny little lad had more than a little interest in him too.

Alice didn't know that her son was gay, much to Jack's surprise, since it seemed obvious to Jack that Patrick was. Maybe it was because Jack had a lifetime of experience in that regard, but right away he sensed that the shy little nerd wasn't playing Dungeons and Dragons behind his locked bedroom door when his friend Matthew used to visit.

So cute, Jack sighed as he looked through the window of the garage at Patrick, who was oblivious to him being eyeballed. The lad looked a lot like his mother in many ways; dirty blonde hair and a skinny body that probably didn't have more than 130 pounds on his 5'7" frame, but then again his real father was not exactly a macho man either.

"You're so unlike Henry," Alice had said back when he first started having sex with the woman he was going to marry next month. "I can't believe how different it is with you."

The petite 47 year old woman had said that after about 5 minutes of trying to catch her breath after Jack Barker had nearly put the little lady through the headboard, becoming only the second man she had even been that intimate with, or so she had claimed, and Jack had no reason to doubt her, given her obvious inexperience and shock after seeing him naked.

Her son had seen him naked, or at least that was what Jack thought, having noticed the shadow of feet outside the bedroom and bathroom doors. That was how Jack found out that you could actually see a little bit through the crack in the old bathroom barrier.

Jack had taken advantage of that himself, having taken a peek after the shower had gone off one day. Jack had been curious, because while little Patrick was a man as far as age goes, he had a boyish quality about him, but the limited glimpse he had gotten of the lad drying off was all he needed to be able to put his guilt aside.

Cute bottom, Jack mused as Patrick bent over and fiddled with his bike chain, and cute everywhere else. Not much muscle, but no fat and no scars or tattoos, and very little hair on that lithe frame that had gotten Jack's attention from the start, and as he closed the door behind himself and walked quietly toward the lad, young Patrick hadn't even noticed him enter.

"Bike trouble?" Jack asked, and Patrick almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the voice behind him, prompting the older man to apologize. "Oh. Sorry. Thought you heard me enter."

"No, it's okay," Patrick replied, his face flushed from bending over. "The chain slipped a couple of days ago and I'm just checking it."

"If you want, I'd be happy to give you a ride somewhere," Jack offered, putting his hand on Patrick's back as the lad knelt back down.

"No, thanks anyway, Mr. Barker. I was just going to go out for a ride."

"Now, I thought we discussed the Mr. Barker stuff," Jack said, moving his hand up and kneading the lad's shoulder gently, a shoulder that was no more muscular than his mother's. "I'm going to be your step-father pretty soon, and while I don't expect you to call me Dad, the least you can do is call me Jack."

"Sorry - Jack," Patrick said with a smile. "I keep forgetting."

"That's okay," Jack said, looking down at the lad, the sun coming in from the window shining on him, making the dusting of golden hairs on the boy's calves sparkle. "I know it's tough on you with me moving in, and I appreciate you being so good about it. With you going off to college soon, at least you won't have to put up with me all that much."

"No, you're a neat guy," Patrick replied. "Mom's crazy about you, and I like it when she's happy."

"That's great. She did a nice job of raising you," Jack said. "The way she keeps making that honey-do list though - I get tired just looking at it."

"Yeah. Nothing has been done around here since Dad left," Patrick said as he stood up. "I'm not much good at fixing things."

"I'm pretty handy," Jack said as he looked down at the lad who was about a head shorter than him, his hands still on his shoulder. "One thing your Mom wanted me to do is replace the bathroom door, or at least fix it. Did you know that you can see through that vertical crack to the right side?"

"Really?" Patrick said, and Jack saw the barely visible Adam's Apple bob in the lad's throat.

"Yeah, you can see pretty good through there too," Jack said, giving the bony shoulder a little squeeze. "Smart kid like you, I figure would have noticed that. Heck, I used to try and peek in on my Mom, and she wasn't nearly as pretty as yours is. It's only natural. You sure you never peeked in there?"

"Uh - maybe once or twice," Patrick said, and Jack saw his hand shaking on the handlebar.

"Thought so," Jack said, and with his free hand took the bike away from them and leaned it against the side of the garage. "Funny thing was that I thought I noticed somebody outside the bathroom door after I got out of the showers a couple of times. You can see the shadows at the gap between the door and the floor, did you know that?"

"No," Patrick said in a voice that sounded like it was still changing.

"You have anything to say for yourself, Patrick?" Jack asked as both of his hands went up to Patrick's shoulders.

"Sorry?" Patrick said/asked in response, and the older man could feel the lad's body shaking.

"No need to be," Jack said as he let his left hand slide down from Patrick's shoulder and move down the scrawny chest with the logo of some video game on the t-shirt. "In fact, after I noticed that crack in the door, I looked through it myself, and you know what?"

"What?" Patrick croaked as his future stepfather's hand reached the top of his baggy shorts and slid underneath the waistband.

"I liked what I saw," Jack hissed into Patrick's ear as his fingers raked through the little nest of pubic hair and grabbed the slender tube that hung below it. "I liked it a lot."

"Omigod," Patrick moaned, falling back into his mother's boyfriend as the older man pulled on his dick, stretching the flaccid organ as far as he could while his other hand coaxed his lad's shorts and underwear down. "My mom..."

"She's in the shower," Jack whispered, giving the boy's ear a nibble as he looked down at the cock he was pulling on, a very modest endowment that was growing rapidly and very noticeably under his urging. "Just relax."

"Figured you for a grower," Jack sighed as the slender pale tube went from a wrinkled spout to an arching prong, the length even more impressive as it was attached to such a little fellow. "Look at your cock - that's nice."

"Gonna cum if you don't..."

"Want you to cum," Jack said as he wrapped his entire fist around Patrick's cock and started jerking him hard. "Just tell me - when you looked at me through the door - did you like what you saw?"

"Yes... omigod yes," Patrick moaned, almost going limp in Jack's arms as his orgasm charged through his loins, sending ropes of cum all over the wall of the garage, and the older man didn't stop jacking even after Patrick had stopped cumming.

"Oh, you cum so good," Jack sighed, continuing to pull hard on the dick even after it went limp, milking every drop oout of the deflated organ while stretching it to the limit before finally letting go, and then brought his hand up to his mouth before adding. "Tastes good too. Made quite a mess though."

The wall of the garage had strings of cum on it, and even Patrick's bike had some hanging on the spokes of the tire.

"Maybe we could get better acquainted sometime," Jack suggested. "I could come visit your room..."

"No - it's too close to Mom's - I mean your room," Patrick said as he pulled up his shorts. "I can hear everything sometimes."

"Why do you still come down and stand at the door if you can hear so well?" Jack said with a smile.

"So I can hear better," Patrick answered sheepishly with a red face, probably from a combination of embarrassment and exertion. "Sounded like you were killing her in the beginning."

"You must have heard noises back when your Dad was here," Jack said.

"Not like that," Patrick snorted.

"So where can we get together?" Jack asked.

"The cellar maybe?" Patrick suggested. "Or if it's nice out, maybe we could go out back?"

"I'm open minded," Jack admitted.

"Maybe some night when Mom is tired or something..."

"That doesn't make any difference," Jack said. "She can only last one round, so after she drops off - unless you would feel creepy about me smelling like her mouth or her - you know."

"No," Patrick said. "Actually, that would be kinda hot. I love my Mom."

"Better yet, maybe the three of us could get together," Jack said with a chuckle.

"That would be awesome."

"I was kidding."

"I know, and Mom is too square for that anyway," Patrick admitted. "Matthew - now his Mom is - never mind."

"Really?" Jack retorted. "Interesting. Haven't seen him around lately."

"We had a fight a couple months ago," Patrick confessed.

"Too bad. So you guys - well - I was just curious. You've done things," Jack asked, and then asked, "You like anal?"


"Me too, but your Mom, she's kinda scared - she won't..."

"Can't blame her," Patrick snorted, looking down at Jack's crotch.

"Hey, what you saw through the crack, that's pretty much it. I don't grow like you do."

"That's good," Patrick said with a grin. "Matthew - he's not built like you."

"Don't worry," Jack said. "I'll be gentle."

"I didn't say that," Patrick said, pawing at the ground.

"I'm so glad I came out here," Jack said. "I think we're going to get along together great."

"Me too," Patrick replied, and as he reached down between his future stepfather's legs he added, "Can I suck you off? - Oh shit!"

The sound of the screen door of the house had them both scurrying about, and Jack went out to intercept Alice while her son cleaned the cum off the wall.

"Tonight?" Patrick had asked before Jack left the garage, and Jack had nodded before closing the door behind himself.


Jack Barker waited for Alice's breathing to reflect the fact that she had in fact fallen asleep. Her sleeping pill, along with the nightly sex, had the little lady in dreamland pretty quickly, and before Jack slipped out of the bed he looked at his future wife.

Naked, with her nightgown still where it landed on the floor after Jack had removed it, the petite blonde looked like a waif, and not for the first time did Jack look at Alice and wonder, did Alice turn him on because she looked so much like her son, or was it the other way around.

On her back, Alice's diminutive breasts practically disappeared, and her aureoles and nipples were not much larger than her son's. Jack had always been interested in boyish females, the androgynous look always proving to be exciting to him.

More than once, Jack had fucked Alice while imagining that it was Patrick on the receiving end, stretching her arms up to the headboards so her tits flattened out and pretending that the little blonde was Patrick.

Jack's eyes went down, past Alice's exposed rib cage and flat stomach, down to the little wisp of hair that guarded her sex. After they had gotten intimate, Jack had told Alice that she didn't need to bother to shave down there but she said that she didn't.

"Just never got hairy like the other girls," Alice had explained, and that was a trait that she passed down to her son, because Patrick was much the same way.

The tiny tuft of hair over Patrick's dick, the sprinkling of golden down on the insides of his calves, and the almost invisible sparse wisps of hair under his arms was all that Jack had seen. It turned him on, maybe because he was a hairy guy and opposites really do attract. Whatever the reason, Jack thought as he rolled out of bed with a minimum of movement, there was somebody he wanted to see. Someone that was hopefully waiting for him, so Jack found his boxer shorts, slipped them on and tiptoed out of the bedroom.


Jack closed the door without making a sound, and when he turned around, expecting to have to figure out whether Patrick was in his room or not, he got his answer. Patrick was down at the other end of the hall, where the stairs went downstairs, and he was naked.

What a beautiful boy - man - Jack corrected himself as he walked slowly down toward the lad, who stood bare and unashamed of his nudity. He looked so innocent that Jack almost felt guilty until he remembered how Patrick had been out in the garage, and how long that tiny dick became in his fist.

"I fixed a place downstairs for us - is that okay?" Patrick asked, and after Jack nodded the boy reached up and put his arms around him, kissing his neck while rubbing his body into Jack.

"Wanted to do this since I met you," Patrick mumbled into Jack's collarbone, his hands rubbing all over his future stepfather's hairy back, and as they embraced Jack felt Patrick's erection against his thigh.

"Maybe we should get downstairs," Jack sighed.

"Sorry. I'm excited," Patrick said before going down the stairs, his dimpled butt leading the way, and when they got downstairs the lad brought Jack into a little room next to the furnace, a room that had held junk before.

"Fixed it up a little bit," Patrick said with a shrug of the shoulders, and not only was Jack pleased to see that his future stepson had taken care of one of the things on his Mom's list by cleaning it up, but the cot on the floor and the candles around it looked almost romantic in a way.

"It's nice," Jack agreed as he looked at the innocent looking young fellow, the boyish body with the long slender prong sticking straight out, over 6" of rock hard flesh swaying and waiting, but when Jack came over to him Patrick stopped him.

"Mr. - I mean Jack," Patrick corrected as Jack's hand came up to his arms. "Can you do me a favor?"


"You can do anything you want to me - with me. I mean that. Anything at all," Patrick said. "But tonight, at least at first. I mean, ever since I laid eyes on you I've fantasized about they way it would be if I ever ended up with you. You have no idea how many times I've - well - you probably can guess what I do. Sounds stupid, huh?"

"No, I think it's sweet," Jack replied.

"Well, can I just do what I fantasized about right now?" Patrick asked timidly. "After that..."

"I'm yours," Jack said, lowering his hands from Patrick's reed-thin arms and taking a step back. "What would you like me to do?"

"Nothing," Patrick said, and in the candlelight it looked like his eyes were watering up a bit. "Stay just like that. You're amazing."

Jack looked down at the young man, whose chest was heaving like he had run a marathon, and the look in young Patrick's eyes was one of wonder. Timidly, his hands went up to Jack's chest, and as he raked his fingers through the thick silver and chest mat that covered his burly chest, the lads eyes rolled back a bit in head.

"Ooh," Patrick sighed as his fingers dug into the meaty man-boobs, his palms feeling his Mom's boyfriend's nipples swell, and after a tentative look up at the older man, moved his face down onto Jack's left nipple.

Nibbling at first, Patrick's lips soon were sucking hard on the plump bud while his fingers tweaked the other nipple hard. The sounds the young man made would have been comical if it wasn't for the fact that it was so erotic to the older man to have a young fellow so infatuated with him.

Jack had savored many twinks like Patrick, young and eager to please, but Patrick was different. He was almost rabid as he went from side to side, suckling on Jack's teats while grinding his erection against his future stepfather's hairy thigh.

"Oh Patrick, that's so good," Jack sighed as he reached up and ran his hand through the young lad's shaggy blonde hair while pressing him close to his chest.

"Wanna eat you up," Patrick groaned, starting to bite the tender bud gently, and then after looking up at his mentor, moved his head over and buried his face under Jack's upraised arm, chewing and licking the steamy jungle of hair that filled the hollow of his armpit.

Jack groaned as Patrick leaned into him, the lad's hand sliding down the older man's body until he reached the bulge that ran down the inside of the boxers, a bulge that was hard and trapped in the fabric, nearly coming out the leg of the garment.

After Patrick's hand reached the end of the bulge, he let out a cry and dropped to his knees in from of Jack, gasping for air as his hand ran over the bulge a couple of times before he reached up and grabbed the elastic and pulled it slowly down.

Jack looked down at his girlfriend's son, running his hand through the lad's hair as Patrick slowly tugged the boxers down and although he looked wild-eyes and frantic, the way he coaxed the shorts down was like he was teasing himself.

Patrick stopped after exposing the stump of the older man's cock, leaning forward and licking the bottom of the shaft before pulling the shorts down a bit more. Now the bottom half of Jack's cock was exposed, with the rest still pinned inside the boxers, and Patrick let his tongue slide up and down the fat vein that meandered down the center of the bronze tube.

"Omigod," Patrick sobbed as he coaxed the elastic down a bit further, finally exposing the ridge of the head hidden under the foreskin. "You're so huge - and I can taste Mom's cunt too."

"You're such a tease," Jack muttered, looking down next to the cot and the other things the lad had brought down to this secret lair.

The bottle of water looked refreshing, and the dew-covered bottle of Sam Adams looked better, but what Jack was most tempted to reach down and grab was the large tube of Anal-glide. It was getting harder and harder to not do just that as Patrick kept teasing both of them.

Finally, Patrick eased the elastic over the tip of Jack's swollen manhood, and as the monolith was freed it arched up slowly, barely missing Patrick's face at it did.

"Oh man," Patrick said as his hands yanked down the boxers before reaching up to grab Jack's cock, his pale fingers not able to quite get around the thickness while only covering half of the huge organ, and then he leaned forward to run his tongue over the edge of the dusky foreskin that had slid up about halfway over the purplish knob.

"You sure about wanting that up your ass?" Jack asked. "Because once I start..."

"Been dreaming about you sticking this monster cock in me," Patrick said in between licking Jack's cock. "Want it so bad. Let me suck all Mom's juices off it first."

Patrick stretched his mouth wide and let his lips run down the glans and a ways down the shaft before going back to the tip. Again and again Patrick forced the meaty organ into his mouth, looking up at his mentor for approval, which Jack gave with a nod.

Patrick took the cock out of his mouth and took a deep breath before raising the rod upright so he could lick and suck the hairy sac below, which was just as over-sized as the penis was. That didn't stop Patrick from taking each orb into his mouth and sucking hard though, letting each fat nut pop loud loudly upon release.

"Oh - that's good," Jack hissed as he looked down and so the pearl of pre-cum which had oozed out of the opening of his cock. "Gotta have you."

Jack pulled his future stepson out from between his legs and put him on all fours. His cock was swollen, throbbing and drooling, but the sight of the lad's pale bottom sticking up in the ass gave him another idea so he put his hands of the firm little butt cheeks and pulled them apart.