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The Therapy Sessions
Patricia I. Phillips, PhD.

A few words should be said about this collection of stories. They were all told to me by other people, and I transcribed them from tape recordings. Most of the details were given to me in the course of long question-and-answer sessions that would be very tedious reading. By converting my interviews into narrative text I have attempted to make them more readable and coherent.

Inevitably, however, I have injected a lot of my personal style into the writing, so even though some of the stories were told by men, they may sound as though they were written by a woman--precisely because they were. For that I make no apology. The fact is that few erotic stories are written either by or for women. These are both.

In my 30 years as a licensed psychologist specializing in sexual therapy, I have listened to hundreds of stories related to my patients' most intimate sexual thoughts and experiences. Many of the stories are tragic, others are of such a personal nature that they would be of no interest to anyone not directly involved, and some are so revealing of the deeply disturbed nature of the patient that most readers would find them distasteful in the extreme.

But a few of the stories are very erotic, almost as if they were told for that specific purpose rather than for therapy. In truth, of course, the simple process of telling the story often is the therapy. Almost invariably these stores come from patients who have created a whole system of insecurities over the fact that they do not feel shame over something where they think they are supposed to. The point of the therapy is that they never needed to feel shame in the first place, so there is no need to feel guilty about it. One method I have used to make this point is to present anonymous transcriptions of the stories in group sessions, where group discussion can put things in their proper perspective. It is an effective technique.

A bi-product of this treatment is a large collection of very erotic stories. At the time of transcription, I have taken special care to conceal the identities of the patients, always changing names and nonessential details of their stories.

All of these stories were published for group sessions with full knowledge and consent of the patients, many of whom have subsequently extended permission to publish them in professional journals, with comments regarding treatment and prognosis.

Throughout all of this I have observed in some patients a therapeutic effect from simply seeing their stories in print. And this effect seems to be enhanced in direct proportion with the size of the audience. It is a kind of anonymous exhibitionism that has a positive effect on patients who have experienced sexual inhibition.

And that is the point of publishing this collection. All of the patients whose stores are presented here have moderate to severe inhibitions stemming primarily from repressed guilt. Some will be helped in this by simply knowing that their stories are public, rather than kept as dark secrets.

These stories have been extensively edited from the original transcripts. I have been extremely careful to conceal the identities of all parties, to the point where these stories can accurately be called fiction, even though they are fundamentally true.

The Girl in Yellowstone Park

I took a summer job at Old Faithful Inn in Yellowstone Park after my junior year at the University of Arizona. It was nice to get away from the oppressive heat of the desert, and in many ways I had the college student's dream job.

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The majority of the employees of Old Faithful Inn are college students, and there is a perpetual party atmosphere in the employee dorms. My job waiting tables in the hotel dining room paid $100 a month, plus room and board. The real income came from the tips. In the 5-hour dinner shift, I could usually earn about $75. Not bad pay in 1968.

But the money wasn't the only attraction. I discovered early on that every day brought in a fresh crop of single girls on vacation, and most were eager to get a personal tour of the Old Faithful area. There are many things to do in the area other than waiting for the next eruption of the famous geyser. Most families who visit the park stay for three or four days, so there is plenty of time to build the kind of shallow and superficial relationship that I was looking for. Every girl old enough to have a legal drink was a target. Not that I scored with every one. Hardly. One a week would have been great, but the reality was about half that number. But it was the game that made it fun.

I would get off work at 10:00 PM and head out into the lobby. There is a great stone fireplace in the center, and three tiers of balconies around the outside walls. Everything is made of logs and natural wood. Often, girls would be found just hanging around in the lobby, which is more exciting than the hotel rooms. There isn't even television in the rooms.

So I could usually find someone to strike up a conversation with, and then let things happen as they would. If there were no girls in sight, I would sit down at the old Steinway piano in front of the fireplace and start playing Warsaw Concerto. That tune always seemed to bring them out, and it's a good thing, too, because it's the only piece I play really well.

Most employees in the park did not have cars there. I did, so that gave me a huge social advantage, with both the guests and my co-workers. If my piano playing wasn't always a hit, my '62 Catalina ragtop was.

On that particular mid-August night, I was in the middle of my Concerto when I spied the attractive young blonde heading my way. I played a few sing-alongs for the little group that had gathered, but my attention was on the angel faced blonde with no bra.

I shot her my best smile as I made my excuses and got up from the piano. We introduced ourselves, then I asked her if she wanted to go have a cocktail in the hotel lounge. I felt a momentary wave of disappointment when she hesitated too long. Well, you don't win them all.

But after a moment, she said okay, but if they asked for ID, she'd be out of luck, because she had left her purse in her room at the far end of the hotel. We found a booth in the corner, and I asked her what she wanted. She hesitated, then said Seven and Seven. I went for Scotch on the rocks. The barman took the order without checking ID. He knew me well enough, and Susan probably looked older than me. Or maybe he simply cared less about her age than her lack of a bra.

She wore white hip-hugger shorts and one of those little halter tops that were so popular in those days. This one was light pink, and sufficiently transparent to show the color of her tiny nipples. She had rather small breasts, but they were nicely shaped and jiggled enticingly when she walked or laughed. I made every effort to make her laugh.

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Susan had just finished high school, she said, and planned to go to hairdresser's school in Seattle. In casual conversation it didn't take me too long to understand that she wasn't intellectually gifted. Well, I was 25 (having spent time in the service before starting college), so I couldn't expect these 18-year-olds to know everything I knew, but it really did seem like they were getting younger and younger. We sipped our drinks and I continued to make her laugh and watch her breasts jiggle. I cared less and less about her mind. After a second drink, Susan was starting to get giggly. And jiggly. I was inserting sexual innuendo more frequently into the conversation, testing her reaction. She giggled. And jiggled. I knew this was going to be a good evening.

I started bragging about my car (389 tri-power with solid lifters and 400 horsepower), and Susan listened with wide-eyed wonder as I exaggerated my exploits at the wheel. In the end, she was dying to see it, so we left the lounge and headed out to the employee parking lot. A very good sign. Once there, we turned on the radio and listened to the Beatles on a 50,000 watt AM station out of Oklahoma City, about the only station that came in clearly up there. With eyes closed, she was moving her shoulders in time with the music, and I watched her breasts move back and forth. I bent toward her and lightly kissed her lips.

Her eyes opened in surprise, but then she somewhat clumsily returned the kiss. We kissed some more, and I managed to brush a hand down over her breast as we separated. She smiled and looked down shyly. I had earlier told her about a little geyser that erupted every five minutes, and now she wanted to go see it. I don't remember the name of it, but it is a 5 minute walk up the hill behind Old Faithful. Nobody goes there at night.

I grabbed a blanket from the back seat and led Susan out to the boardwalks that traverse the geyser basin. We walked past Old Faithful and then up the hill to the little geyser--which was all I had promised, and more. There is a steaming pool about five feet across, and periodically it bubbles up to a height of three or four feet, then settles back down. The runoff flows over the brink of the hill, where it runs into a little ice-cold stream. At the point where the hot and cold water mix, there is a natural tub of smooth rock. The original Jaccuzi.

We sat on the blanket, soaking our feet in the hot/cold pool, talking about things of no consequence and looking up at the stars, which were surprisingly bright. I gave her a long, meaningful look, straight into those innocent blue eyes, then I leaned in for a serious kiss. Her response was an amusing mixture of confusion and shyness. It was almost as though she had never done this before. But that's not a question you ever ask! Besides, she seemed so willing.

I kissed her again, this time with lips parted, expecting her to respond in kind. It took several long, wet kisses before she finally opened her mouth slightly and returned the kiss, following my lead at every turn. I felt for her breast, which felt warm through the thin fabric. I massaged gently, and I felt her draw a quick breath. Was that passion or surprise? The tiny nipple was instantly firm under my touch, and I ran a finger in little circles around it, while kissing her more deeply. Her breathing came faster. By this time, my own excitement was pressing uncomfortably against my jeans, and I had to make an adjustment. I gave her my "excuse me while I rearrange my substantial manhood" smile, which caused her to giggle. And that caused her breasts to jiggle. I reached for the knot that held her blouse shut in the front. She put her hands on mine as if to stop me as I bent forward to kiss her again. I kept kissing as I untied the knot. As I let the loose ends drop, Susan placed her hands over her breasts to keep the top in place, in an excitingly modest way. I put my hands on each side of her neck, gently massaging her shoulders and neck. She returned my kiss, clearly giving me the green light. My hands slid down across her collar bones toward her hands, still holding the pink top.

We broke the kiss, and I backed off while lifting her hands away from her breasts. The top fell open, and Susan smiled prettily at my obvious pleasure. I coaxed the top off her shoulders and let it drop to the blanket. She drew a sharp breath as I ran my hands slowly from her hips up her sides to her breasts. They were pale, perfectly shaped, and warm, with tiny nipples now standing out with excited firmness. I ran my hands over and over them, feeling the smooth skin and listening to Susan gasp whenever I touched the nipples. I kissed her again, now moving a hand down across her flat belly toward her navel. I ran my fingers around her navel, feeling the details, then back up to her lovely little breasts. She kissed me more aggressively, though still somewhat clumsily. I kissed her harder, touching her tongue with my own. She acted surprised, then tentatively touched back. My hand was again touching her navel, stroking the skin around it, and then below it, touching the edge of her shorts, then running a fingers along the waistband, first toward the sides, then back toward the button in the middle. I opened the button on my first try, before Susan could put up any resistance, but in her obvious surprise, she broke the kiss and looked at me with innocent eyes, then down at her bare breasts and the open button. She appeared momentarily lost, so I took her hand and put it in my lap, where she could feel for herself the effect she was having on me. At first, she pulled back, but when I coaxed her to keep her hand there, she gave a cautious squeeze. I could feel a surge of blood, and I could see that she felt it too, when her eyes went momentarily wide. With my hand still over hers, she squeezed again, causing another gratifying surge.

I whispered something encouraging to her and kissed her again, exploring her mouth with my tongue. Her reactions were an alluring mixture of modesty and passion. I unbuttoned my own jeans, then drew the zipper open. Susan pulled back her hand, but I took it and put it back where she could feel the hot hardness of my excitement through the remaining thin layer of cotton. I moved her hand for her, up and down, then pressed it against myself. Another surge, and another quick breath. My hand went back to stroke her breast, matching squeeze for squeeze with what she was doing.

She drew her hand away and put it on mine, still stroking her breast. After a few moments I took her hand again, and before she could react, I slipped it under the waistband of my shorts. For an instant she tried to pull away from the skin to skin contact, but with a little coaxing, she took a firm grip and held on. I kissed her lips, then her neck. She squeezed as I kissed the tops of her breasts. She tilted her head back and let me tease her nipples with my tongue. Her breathing was quick now, and I could feel heat radiating from her. I found her zipper and opened it. I placed my hand on sheer nylon and felt the soft hair beneath.

I sucked on her nipple and massaged the mound where my hand fit into her shorts. She was breathing very hard, and squeezing equally hard. I kissed her mouth, moved my hand up across her breasts, then back to her lap. She returned my kiss, then pushed my head back down to her breast. I paused just long enough to remove my jeans and shorts in one quick move, then I reached for hers. She hesitated when I tugged, as if unsure what to do or unsure whether she wanted to do it. But she raised her hips, and shorts and panties came easily away.

She hadn't expected the panties to go, and instantly put both her hands into her lap. I smiled at her and took off my shirt. Then I bent forward and kissed her--gently, softly at first, then with increasing passion. When she started moving her lips against mine, I touched her breast, which quivered under my touch. She still had her hands modestly covering her lap as I laid her back on the blanket. I lay on my side beside her and kissed her again.

She had momentarily retreated, but as I kissed her mouth, she again started moving her lips against mine. I kissed her more deeply and ran my fingers down her neck, between her breasts, then back up. She moved her body, seeming to settle in to her position as I kissed her neck, then her nipples, first one, then the other. I reached down and moved one of her hands from her lap to mine. I guided her fingers up and down, over the velvety skin at the tip, then slowly down until she was touching the wrinkled skin below. I repeated the movement, then left her to explore on her own, while I turned my attention to her breasts, which were now heaving with her breath.

Her other hand fell away from her lap as I ran my hand down to the surprisingly small patch of fine, soft hair in her lap. I teased gently through the strands of hair, then traced a line down along the crease to her inner thighs, which I stroked lightly. She drew a sharp breath each time my fingers passed close to the object of my interest. I teased her up and down both sides, carefully avoiding the fragile treasure that lay between. I sucked and licked her nipples, and kissed the wide valley between her tiny breasts. I felt her hips move upward as I teased the hair above her most intimate place.

She gave me a long, firm squeeze when I first brushed a finger lightly over the soft, delicate, pink folds that were surprisingly exposed through the thin covering of wispy hair. At first I just barely touched, then went back to her inner thighs, this time feeling deeper, closer to her private pleasure place. When my fingers again touched the soft folds above, I felt moist warmth. I ran my finger tips with feather-like gentleness down the pink ridge until it tapered toward the darkness below, then I ran my finger back up. I could feel Susan mirroring my moves, exploring my body as I was exploring hers.

I kissed her mouth again, a kiss deep with passion as I pressed my fingers into the full wetness of the miniature cleavage I had been teasing. Susan quivered and squeezed as she ran her hand up and down. I stroked up and down, feeling every thrilling detail of the pink folds, teasingly avoiding what I knew lay below and barely touching what I could now feel above. As I traced a path of kisses down her neck and across her breasts, I ran my finger across the tiny hard lump that had been hidden so cleverly under the now slippery wet folds of softness. She jumped as I touched, and released her grip on me, as if surprised by what I had done. I ran my fingers down her steaming crevice until I could feel the small opening below.

Her thighs closed against one another, pressing herself shut. After a moment she relaxed, again letting me touch that most private place. I kissed her hard nipples, then her soft lips, running my fingers up again to the most sensitive place on her body. I again left a trail of kisses from her mouth to first one breast then the other, then to the valley between, out onto the flat below. She let go of me when I turned my body around in order to continue the path of kisses across her navel and over to her hip bone. Susan made one uncertain move that seemed like an attempt to close her legs, but I held them apart with both hands and moved my mouth close to the hair that was so sparse and fine that she looked almost shaven.

Still holding her legs apart, I slid my hands back up her smooth inner thighs, tracing lines up to the opening I knew I had to explore, then further up, through the wet folds. Moving back down, I spread her legs a bit wider, this time without resistance, as I continued my trail of kissing down the line of her hip until I could feel her warmth on my cheek. She gasped audibly as I touched her with my tongue. Susan was squirming now, not in an effort to shut me out, but rather in an unconscious reaction to what she was feeling. I pressed my mouth into the middle of her little patch of hair, exploring her soft warmth with my tongue. I felt her shudder, and I heard a kind of whimper as I ran my tongue up and down her slit.

With my fingers, I opened the delicate folds of her baby-like crevice. The hard little nub at the top poked out, and I teased it with my tongue. She jumped involuntarily when I pressed my mouth against her and sucked her little erection into my mouth. I heard her breathing, now coming in quick gasps as she quivered beneath me.

I reached down and guided her hand to where I wanted it. She squeezed and again held on. I felt myself throbbing under her touch. I pivoted my hips, moving myself closer to her mouth. I ran my tongue up and down her slit, and I sucked the soft folds into my mouth, caressing her with my lips, and I could feel my pulse pounding in her hand. I was aching to feel the touch of her lips, and I tried to press closer. Susan was arching her hips up beneath me, pressing herself hard against my mouth as I teased and sucked on every part of her. She gasped when I pressed my tongue into her warm, wet little hole. Even as I forced my tongue into the tight opening, and I could feel her contract and relax in rapid cycles, and I thought she must be having an orgasm.

I pulled her upward and pressed my face against her, feeling her fine hair against my cheeks, pushing my tongue as far into her as I could. I thrust in and out, completely losing myself in the excitement of the moment. She was shaking and squirming and moving her hips rhythmically against my face. I was unconsciously moving my own hips while Susan's hand held me tightly. I felt her change position in order to get her other hand on me, while I began exploring her little opening with my middle finger. She was wet, and my finger slid smoothly in, and I felt her body jerk in reaction. I teased her little hard nub with my tongue and ran my finger in and out of her, feeling the little contractions that closed her tightly on my finger.

I found myself wondering if I could get anything bigger than my finger into her, so I withdrew and started pressing two fingers against her opening. My own hips were moving, as if on their own, and on a forward thrust I felt myself touch her lips. It happened again moments later, and on the third touch I could feel that she had wet her lips and was kissing.

I pressed my fingers harder and heard her moan as I forced them slowly into her. She was holding me firmly with both hands and moving her wet lips over the most excited part of my body. I could still feel myself throbbing under her grip, and I reflexively thrust forward , past her lips, which closed around the pulsing tip of my erection.

I was close to exploding, but I couldn't take myself out of her mouth, which she was moving tentatively over the velvety skin. I worked my two fingers rapidly in and out of her, still intrigued by the tightness of the fit. She wriggled and heaved beneath me, and her hands tightened their hold on me. I slowly withdrew my fingers, and gave a long departing suck on her tiny erection, then I changed position, hovering above her, rubbing the part of my body that she had just had in her mouth against the part of her body that I had just had in my own. I kissed her lips and felt her press herself upward against me. I teased, pressing my tip gently against her opening, which felt impossibly small. We kissed deeply, and I increased the pressure, barely forcing myself past the opening.

Her eyes were open, looking at me with what I thought was a mixture of desire and wonder. I pulled back, teased her some more, while feeling my way back into position for another thrust. When I pressed forward, her eyes went wide as I went into her about two inches, feeling the tightness and the warmth. She closed her eyes as I wiggled around, not moving in or out, but trying to find more room inside her. We were kissing deeply, and I began a rhythmic motion up and down, pressing a little bit harder and a little bit further into her with each stroke.

Again I backed out of her, and when she gasped for air, I realized that she had been holding her breath. Once more I was positioned at the gate. As I pressed forward, I felt her hot wetness envelop me. I pushed hard, feeling myself drive deeper into her than before. I pulled back, she gasped, and I pressed forward again. I was almost there. One more stroke would do it. Her eyes were wide, and she moaned as I pushed myself all the way into her. We lay still like that for a few seconds while catching our breath. She was squeezing me more tightly than she had done with her hands, and I again kissed her. When I felt that I had regained control of myself, I started moving my hips in a slow rhythm, at first in almost imperceptible strokes, gradually increasing the movement with each thrust. She put her hands on my hips, and I felt her pull me into her. Each time I backed out, I could feel her pulling against me, as if trying to keep me buried deep inside her. She was panting and biting her lip, eyes closed, making little whimpering noises. She still pulled me forcefully into herself while I tried to establish some movement.

I pulled back, nearly all the way out, then let her pull me firmly back in, bodies slamming together with a soft smack. I backed out again, and once more she pulled me in. She was loosening her grip on my hips, and letting me take full strokes in a smooth pace that became faster with each thrust into her. She was breathing very hard, thrusting her hips against mine. My strokes were now coming all the way out of her, then re-entering and driving to the full depth that my size would allow, and now she felt bottomless. I could feel her start to quiver and shake from somewhere deep inside, and as I slammed into her, her whole body shuddered.

I felt her hips rising against me in convulsive, uncontrolled thrusts, and suddenly realized that I was on the verge of explosion. With a final deep thrust, I let myself go, and felt the hot gush of fluid explode into her. Then it was my turn to be wracked by convulsions, as each of my final thrusts pumped more of myself into her body.

We lay there together, catching our breath, and I felt her closing tightly around me, even as my own hardness went away. At last, I pulled out of her, while continuing to hold her close. She was limp, and her eyes were closed, so I thought she had gone to sleep. She looked very childlike and helpless. She finally whispered that she had better get back to her room before her family started to wonder where she was.

We took a quick soak in the natural hot tub, then used my blanket to dry off. Shortly, we were dressed and walking back to the Inn. I offered to show her some more secret wonders of the park if she was still going to be around the next night. But she didn't know if she would still be around, because her family's plans seemed to change daily. Well, if she was around, she would find me in the lobby after my shift. We put the blanket back in my car, then went into the Inn at the side entrance of the wing where her room was. We parted there, and she went up the stairs. I walked back to the lobby, still in a euphoric haze. I climbed the stairs toward my room in what is called "Bat's Alley," above the third balcony in the highest part of the old wing. Below I could see employees hurrying around the lobby and in and out of the manager's office. It was unusual for there to be anything going on this late, but I wasn't curious enough to go down and see what was happening.

I slept late the next morning, barely making it to the employee cafeteria in time for breakfast. I found a place at a table with some friends and listened to their conversation while I satisfied my well-earned appetite. The big news of the morning was that a thirteen-year-old girl had been kidnapped from the Inn. That was huge news. Things like that just didn't happen in Yellowstone Park! It certainly explained all the commotion in the lobby. And I had missed the whole thing. It seemed that everyone had a different information source, and as various people added their own bits of knowledge and hearsay, a picture started to emerge, even though many of the details conflicted with one another.

A thirteen-year-old girl from Seattle had left her family's room to go out and watch the lighted eruption of Old Faithful after dark. When she hadn't returned to her room an hour later, her family had gone looking for her. A bellman at the front desk had seen her in the lobby after the eruption, and thought he had seen her later, going out the back door with a man he couldn't identify. Whatever had actually happened after that was lost in a confusion of wild rumors, guesses and speculation. The park police had been called, and word was spread to all employees to watch for a little blonde girl with white shorts and a pink top. I felt dizzy and sick as the talk continued. One story was that the park police had intercepted the kidnapper as he tried to leave the park with the girl hidden in his pickup camper. Another story had her escaping and getting back to her family after having been gang-raped by a group of hippies.

I was shaking when I got up to leave. Thirteen years old! But she said she was 18--well, actually that she had finished high school, but that would make her 18. No wonder she had hardly any pubic hair! How could I be so stupid? How could she have fooled me? But I reminded myself that she had fooled the barman too. Could she do that with a little bit of makeup and a see-through blouse? The rest of the day, I stayed in my room, sweating it out every time I heard footsteps in the hall, expecting to find the park police at my door, all the while wondering what Susan had told her parents and the police. By late afternoon, I was fairly comfortable that she hadn't told them who she had really been with. If she had, I would have already been under arrest.

Maybe the story about the hippies had come from Susan. It would make sense if her parents had somehow determined that she had had intercourse. How would they find that out? Could they smell it? Could they tell by looking? How closely would they look? I tortured myself with questions all day. At 5:00 I went down to work my shift in the dining room. I had to risk the possibility that the bellman might recognize me as the man who took the girl out the back door. But I thought I would be an instant suspect if I failed to show up, so I held my breath and went to work.

In the middle of my shift, I was stunned to see Susan and her family walk into the dining room. By a stroke of sheer luck, the hostess did not seat them at one of my tables. I tried to focus on my work, expecting at every moment to feel heavy hands on my shoulders. At one point, as I carried a try of dinners out of the kitchen, I made momentary eye contact with Susan. I saw a spark of recognition, then she quickly looked down.

I never saw her again after she left the dining room. I never heard any repercussions, though the rumors continued to fly for weeks. A month later I went back to school, but I've never completely gotten over the incident.

After graduation I went to work in San Francisco, and one day had a call from a girl who had worked with me in the park. She had gone back and worked the following summer as well. We talked about a lot of different things, but one thing still stands out in my memory. She said that during her employee orientation lecture, everyone had been cautioned against romancing the tourists. They said that the previous year, and employee had sent a thirteen-year-old girl home pregnant. Was she talking about me and Susan? I'll never know. I would have tried to find Susan, but I never knew her last name. I could not go ask anyone in the park what her name was, so all I know to this day is that she was from Seattle and her name was Susan. Without Consent

It has been nearly a year since the event that changed my life. I had expected to get over it after a few weeks, or maybe a couple of months, but it just seems to hang there, an ever-present cloud over my marriage and my life. Maybe I should have told someone about it at the time it happened, but I just could not do it. You will understand why as I tell the story. My office is located in a little suburban strip mall that also houses two restaurants, a tavern, a couple of insurance agencies, a copy shop and some other offices. There are malls like it in every town, and nobody would ever consider them to be dangerous places to work. I never dreamt that something like this could happen there. Unfortunately, it was precisely that sense of safety that caused it to happen. It was a rainy afternoon in November, and by 5:00 it was dark out. One by one the other offices turned off their lights and locked up. My closing time was 5:30, and that evening I had a few things to do after closing. It was nearly 6:00 when I was getting ready to leave. Because of the tavern, there was always some activity in the parking lot, and I never paid any particular attention to it. So I didn't see where they came from before I heard them tapping on my window. They were young, about the age of my own son, 16 or 17 years old. It was raining hard, and the boys looked like they had been out in the rain for awhile. Water dripped from their hair and ran down their faces. Shouting, they asked if they could use my phone.

It was stupid, but I unlocked my door and let them in from the rain. Why wasn't I curious that they hadn't just gone to the tavern or one of the restaurants? Why had they chosen my door? For a few seconds, the two of them stood on my door mat, shaking water from themselves. One was tall, maybe six-two or six-three, and had medium length dark hair. He wore jeans and a leather jacket. It appeared that he was trying to grow a mustache--without much success. The other was shorter, stockier, and blonde. He wore a baseball cap and a black raincoat that came down to his knees. I pointed to the phone on my reception counter, and the tall one stepped over and picked up the receiver. He punched in a number, seven digits. I counted, in case he had tried to stick me with a long distance toll. Isn't it ironic that I didn't trust him for that, but I let him into my office! The kid mumbled in the phone, mostly in one word sentences, for about a minute. When he hung up, he said that someone would be around to pick them up in a little while. I said that they could probably wait in the front of the tavern.

"No," he said. "We gotta wait here. This is where I told 'em." I said, "Well, you'll have to wait outside, then, because I have to leave." I stepped toward the door to usher them out, but the chubby one blocked my way. He pulled his hand out of the pocket of his raincoat and held up a long double-edged knife. My heart stopped as he waved it before me.

"We gonna wait here," he leered, "and you gonna entertain us while we wait." I frantically scanned the parking lot, hoping to see someone to help me. A car splashed by, heading toward the tavern. I waved desperately, but the car went on by. "Chubby" stepped forward and waved the knife back and forth, just inches from my face. The tall one flipped off the lights as Chubby pushed me toward the business office. "Slim" followed us in and closed the door behind himself. I stood there in shock, looking for some way to escape, but I was trapped. Chubby moved toward me and slipped the knife blade between the buttons on the front of my blouse. As he raised the knife, the top three buttons fell to the carpet. That knife was razor sharp! He grabbed the front of my blouse and yanked it out of my skirt, slashing the knife down through the remaining buttons. He pulled one side of the blouse back past my shoulder, then yanked it down off my arm. Letting go of my blouse, he grabbed for my bra, quickly slashing one of the straps. I tried to cover myself, but the knife came up under my chin. He held it there while he yanked off my blouse, then he grabbed the center of my bra and slashed it cleanly apart. The bra fell away and my breasts tumbled out. I started begging. Hooking his fingers in the front of my skirt, he pulled it out, then used the stiletto to slash it open, from waistband to hemline. He yanked my slip down to my knees, then pushed it to the floor with his foot. "Nice tits," the tall one said, stepping forward. He shrugged off his dripping leather jacket, then reached for the zipper of his soggy jeans. Opening his fly, he extracted his hard penis.

"Rub those pretty tits on this," he commanded, waving his penis at me. The knife came up under my chin, and chubby said, "Do it, bitch!" He pushed me to my knees, and Slim stepped forward. The knife was against my neck as I numbly reached up and took his penis in my hand. It was large and very hard, pointing stiffly up toward my face. I pulled it down began rubbing it across my breasts. Slim pushed his jeans and briefs down and struggled out of them.

"Rub it on them pretty little nipples," he leered. With the knife still at my throat, I did as he said. I rubbed it around and around on first one nipple, then the other, feeling the warm, soft skin on the tip of his penis against my breasts. I felt betrayed by my own body when my nipples turned hard and stuck out. And I knew what was coming next. "Come on, bitch, do it," he ordered. "Kiss it!" I had already resigned myself to doing whatever they wanted. There was nothing else to do. Holding him with both hands, I raised him to my mouth and touched him to my lips, feeling a sudden surge of hardness. Reluctantly, I turned the touch into a kiss, wetting my lips and running them over the bulging purple head of his youthful erection.

"That's right," he coached. "You know you love it!" My only chance was to act like I did. I parted my lips and slid down, closing them under his tip, then drew slowly back, gently sucking. Again there was a surge, and he expanded in my mouth. I ran my lips back down, this time touching my tongue to him, probing for the slit. Finding it, I pushed it open with my tongue, tasting the faint flavor of him. He put his hands behind my head and suddenly pushed me down until I gagged. Pushing him back, and choking, I felt tears in my eyes. He shoved me back down, again gagging me, and this time I nearly threw up. "Stop it!" I cried, "You're choking me. Let ME do it!" "Okay, do it your way, but it better be good," he threatened.

I swallowed hard, then started teasing him with my tongue, licking his slit and tickling the place just below it. Each time I touched there I felt his body jerk a little bit. I ran my tongue and lips around the rim, holding him with both hands and squeezing as I sucked. Then I started stroking with one hand and caressing his balls with the other, while licking and sucking on just the tip. I kept that up for several minutes, feeling his pulse quicken and hearing him breathe faster and faster. Then I started sucking for real, bobbing my head up and down, desperately, furiously trying to make him come.

I felt his abdominal muscles tightening, and I knew he had reached his limit. I backed off until only his tip was in my mouth and gave a couple of long strokes with my hands, and with a loud grunt he blasted a load of hot semen into my mouth. I let him shoot another load before swallowing, and I kept on pumping him, tasting another shot with each stroke. I continued sucking after he stopped coming, and as I felt him start to go soft in my mouth, I felt Chubby moving around me. He grabbed me from behind and yanked my pantyhose and panties down to my thighs. Then with a single stroke of his knife, he slashed them in half, from waistband to crotch. He pulled me back by the hair, and I fell to the floor and for the first time noticed that Chubby was completely naked. Somehow he had stripped off his clothes while I was busy with Slim. I went ahead and spread my legs, exposing myself before him.

Kneeling between my legs, he ran his hand over me, running his fingers through my pubic hair. He suddenly grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled. The knife flashed and he lifted the clump of hair over his head, laughing maliciously. He tossed the hair on my chest and grabbed another handful and slashed it off. Twice more, he slashed, and I could feel myself more exposed than ever. Then his hand was between my legs, a finger probing my vagina. I was startled to feel him slide his fat finger easily into me, and I realized to my utter shock that I was wet with excitement. Then Chubby pulled his finger out and came at me with his penis.

He lay on top of me and tried to find his way in, but the bulge of his oversized belly kept him from reaching. He fumbled around, trying to stretch his penis to my vagina. I drew my knees up, then put my legs in the air, presenting myself to him. He plunged in, and I gasped as he drove deep. He started his motion, and I rose up to meet him with each stroke, telling myself that I had no choice. Faster and faster he pumped, slamming against me with each stroke, setting up spasms from my most sensitive spot. I thrust my hips against him, driving him as deep in as I could. He started gasping, and his stroking motion changed to a shudder and then with a hard thrust he came inside me in a warm gush. He thrust repeatedly and was wracked by deep spasms until he has spent his load.

When he backed away, I dropped my feet to the floor and lay there with my knees up and legs still spread wide. I felt disappointingly unfulfilled. Then I realized the implication of that thought, and was ashamed of myself for even thinking it. Yet even at that moment I was wishing I could get my hands down there to finish myself. I lay there for several minutes, with my eyes closed. I opened my eyes when I felt someone trying to pull something out from under me. It was Slim, trying to get his shirt, which was under my back. He was kneeling next to me, and as he pulled his shirt from beneath me, I reached out and grabbed his soft penis. He looked at me with a puzzled expression as I squeezed.

His confusion went away when I started stroking him, trying to coax him back to life. He moved to make himself easier for me to reach, and I guided him to a convenient position over my chest, where I could fondle him with both hands. I could feel the hardness starting to return when I took him into my mouth and sucked. His erection grew quickly until he again was too big for my mouth. I pushed him back without letting go, and aimed him where I wanted him to go, rubbing him up and down my crack and around the wet opening below. I arched up, getting him started into me. He drove down, and went all the way in. He was much bigger than Chubby. I started thrusting my hips frantically beneath him, and for a minute or two he just hovered above me and let me do it all. Then he took over and started hammering into me, over and over and over. I reached my limit, and felt myself open up as a powerful orgasm swept over me, causing my whole body to tingle and quiver. And Slim just kept pounding away, slamming into me again and again. I started to wonder how long it could last, and felt another climax building and radiating out from my vagina. I came again, and after another minute of furious stroking, so did Slim. He filled me to overflowing, and I could feel semen running out and making a puddle on the carpet.

Chubby was already dressed and had his trench coat on. As I lay on the floor in the sticky puddle, Slim quickly dragged on his wet clothes. Without a word, they left. I heard the front door close. Then there was silence, and the realization of what had happened swept over me. I started to cry. I peeled off the remains of my pantyhose, then went to the rest room and washed myself as well as I could. All I had to wear was my slip and buttonless blouse. I put them on and walked out to the dark reception area. The rain had stopped, and as I scanned the parking lot, I could see no sign of my attackers.

I found my shoes and put them on, then I got my raincoat and purse. I had nearly three hundred dollars in cash that the attackers had not touched. They had come for just one thing. And I gave it to them. I couldn't call the police. If I did, and if they made the arrest, everything that had happened would become public knowledge. How I had willingly, even enthusiastically, helped with my own rape. It would all come out. I knew I couldn't make them believe that I had done it only to save myself. I couldn't even make myself believe that. So that's what's been weighing on my mind, getting in the way of my relationship with my husband. I didn't want it to happen, and it was a terrifying experience. How had I let myself get pleasure from it? It fills me with shame every time I think of it.

My Part-Time Job

The sense of frustration and annoyance had built up over a long period of time. It was all about money. We had a nice house, nice cars, a boat and just about everything else that people think they need. But we also had the monthly payments to go with them. It seemed that every month I would have to scrape for nickels and dimes to buy the groceries, and it seemed like years since I had been able to buy something nice for myself. So when my husband came home with a new 45-inch TV, expecting me to figure out how to make the payments, I went into a long, smouldering, silent rage. A couple of weeks later, I was still fuming about the TV when a friend took me out to lunch at the Marriott, for no particular reason. Over lunch, I told her some of my frustrations. She sympathized and said she knew exactly what I was talking about--she had been there. Her solution was to get a part-time job. That's how she could afford to take me to lunch and how she could buy herself new clothes. After lunch I was walking across the lobby, past a row of shops, to the parking lot elevator when a display in a window caught my eye. It was another dress that I couldn't afford.

It was a short, sassy party dress, deeply cut in the front, and made of a sheer red fabric, layered in carefully selected locations so that it conveyed a sense of transparency while actually covering everything. Just barely. I had absolutely no use for such a daring dress, and maybe it was for exactly that reason that I wanted to try it on. I tried to hide my embarrassment as I asked the clerk if she had the dress in my size. She said she did if my size was 6, because the mannequin was wearing the only one she had. I took the dress into the fitting room and hung it on the hook, then turned to the mirrored wall and started to undress. Not bad, I thought to myself as I dropped my blouse and skirt on the chair and studied the effects that 15 years of marriage and two kids had had on my body. No, not bad at all. I spotted a run in my last pair of pantyhose, so with some irritation, I peeled them off. Then I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra and shrugged it off. The red dress could not be worn with a bra. I stood for several seconds admiring myself before turning to the dress.

The dress dropped easily over my head, and felt feathery light on my shoulders. I reached back and drew the zipper up, pulling the dress into shape around my hips and waist. The neckline plunged almost to my navel, showing my breasts to within half an inch of my nipples, the contours of which showed provocatively through the thin fabric. I turned before the mirror and again admired myself. The back was cut almost as low as the front, and somewhat wider. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so sexy. Of course, I knew it wasn't a dress I would ever wear in public. But mostly as an excuse to wear it for a few more minutes, I went out into the store and found a new pair of pantyhose--sheer black instead of my usual skin tone. I knew that was the right color for the dress. Back in the changing room, I unzipped the dress then slipped into the nylons. I watched myself in the mirror as I zipped up. I was dynamite! I turned one way then the other, checking myself from every direction in the 3-way mirror.

My makeup needed some work. The clerk tapped on the door and asked if I needed anything else. I told her I would be putting the dress on my Visa card. I don't know why, it just made me feel good. I spent several minutes darkening up my makeup, changing from a daytime look to a seductive evening look, which was much more consistent with the look of the dress. After one more look in the mirror, I decided I needed shoes. The one-inch heels I had been wearing would not do. I asked the clerk, and she said there was a shoe store two doors down. I decided to keep the dress on so I could buy shoes to match. I paid for the dress without ever looking at the price, which was over $300. The clerk boxed up my old clothes and put them in a monogrammed shopping bag. I stepped out into the lobby.

It seemed like every eye in the place was on me. I felt conspicuous and embarrassed as I walked 50 feet to the shoe store. The instant I entered the store, a man jumped up and hurried over. He was falling all over himself to help me. Blushing, I told him my size and said I wanted to try something very red and very high. He came back with a couple of choices and motioned me to the row of chairs. Shoe salesmen always seem to fondle when they put shoes on my feet, and this one made no effort to conceal his lust as he "straightened" my nylons. With the heels I was about the same height as the salesman. I walked back and forth in front of the chairs, not really caring how comfortable the shoes were. They looked smashing. I looked smashing. It was only after I had paid for the shoes and walked back out into the lobby that I realized I had no idea what I intended to do next. I couldn't just get in my car and drive home!

Instead dropped off my shopping bags in the car, then strolled back up to the hotel lounge. Heads turned when I walked in. The 3-inch heels caused my to walk with an exaggerated swing, rather like Marilyn Monroe. There was a little round pedestal table with two stools off to one side. I strolled over and sat on the edge of the stool facing the door, and placed my handbag on the table. I was looking around for someone to take my order when an attractive man in a business suit got up from the bar and walked straight toward me, smiling. It was a good smile, and he was a very attractive man, probably 5 years younger than me. He offered to buy me a drink and sat down on the other stool before I had a chance to answer him. Well, why not? I had certainly overspent my budget for the day! I nodded and smiled. He got the attention of a barmaid who made a hand motion that she would be over in a minute. He turned back to me, extending a hand, and said his name was Christopher. I put my hand in his, which felt warm and firm, conveying a sense of strength and confidence. I said my name was Shelly. It isn't.

We ordered drinks and talked about the weather and the architecture convention that had brought him to town for the week. He was a software engineer and was selling a structural engineering program to the architects. I liked the way he talked. He was articulate and literate. Our drinks arrived and he paid with a $20 bill, telling the girl to keep the change.

I was feeling monumentally bold, a little bit crazy and very nervous as we sipped our drinks. He didn't ask about me, but continued to talk about his work and the convention and how much he had to be on the road. At some point, he excused himself to go to the men's room. I watched him walk across the room, and found myself evaluating his body. He seemed to be in good shape and he carried himself well. And he had a nice butt.

From the time he had come to my table, I had kept my left hand in my lap, more or less hidden under the table. After he disappeared around the corner, I slipped off my ring and put it in my handbag. I didn't want it to look like I was cheating on my husband. When he returned, he moved his stool closer to mine before sitting down. Without asking, he signaled the barmaid for another round of drinks and when she brought them to the table he gave her another twenty. He put his hand on mine and looked into my eyes with a sly smile. I flashed a smile back at him and picked up my drink with my free hand. He raised his glass and touched it to mine. "Here's to the good life," he said, and we both took a drink.

I could feel him looking at me as we drank. He was no longer attempting to conceal his interest in my cleavage, and I found myself enjoying his gaze. He was tracing little lines up and down my wrist and hand while his eyes traveled from my face slowly down the deep V of bare skin, then across my lap to my legs, then he reversed direction until he was looking into my eyes again. "That is one spectacular dress," he said. "It isn't the dress you're looking at!" I teased. "You're right, but it is still a spectacular dress," he answered wryly, "and you are just right for it." I felt my face flush, and I felt a twinge of excitement deep in the pit of my stomach. "Thank you, but really . . ." I was stuck for words, so I took another sip on my drink. I could feel the alcohol, and thought I'd better be moving on. But I didn't stop Chris when he ordered another round and spent another twenty. Half way through our third drink, he asked, "How much do you get for an afternoon's work?" I looked at him, not understanding the question. "How much?" he repeated. And then I understood. I was dumbstruck. I started to say something, then took another drink, buying time.

"I don't . . ." I stammered. "I'm not, I mean . . ." I took another drink, and Chris just looked into my face with an inquisitive expression on his face. At last he said, "Uh, I'm sorry, I just thought . . . . Well, the way you're dressed and . . . . Damn!" He was obviously embarrassed. So was I. I tried to take him off the hook, "No, I understand. I just bought the dress on a whim. I don't even know why. I can't even pay for it. I just liked it." The words all ran together and spilled out in a torrent before I even knew what I had said. He just looked at. And kept on looking. "The last woman I saw dressed like that was making $300 for an evening's work," he explained. We both chuckled a little bit at the misunderstanding, and then sipped our drinks. Mine was nearly empty. I hardly ever had 3 drinks in one sitting. "300 dollars?" I asked, "Really?" He signaled for more drinks as he answered, "Oh, sure. I mean, I don't usually . . . . Uh, damn. I guess I walked into that one!"

"Don't sweat it," I said, "I won't tell anyone." We laughed again, this time more comfortably as the drinks arrived. Another twenty. I was starting to be jealous of him for the ease with which he spent money. It would take me a year to pay for my afternoon. I told him so. He looked at me long and hard. So long that it made me uncomfortable. Finally, he said, "You could pay for it today."

He had said it firmly, in a matter of fact way that told me he was absolutely serious. I tried to take a sip from my glass, but ended up taking a gulp. I felt a peculiar mixture of embarrassment and intrigue. I knew I should be insulted, but I didn't feel that way. I felt a stirring again, this time somewhere lower than the pit of my stomach. What would it be like, I wondered. I realized I was breathing hard, almost gasping. "You mean . . ." "Sure," he interrupted, " why not?

In my entire life, nobody had ever offered to pay me for sex. I was flabbergasted by the proposition. But I wasn't repulsed, as I should have been. He was, after all, a very attractive man, and he was offering a solution to a very real problem. My decision to buy the dress was the result of a defiant lapse of good judgement.

"You would pay $300 to have sex with me?" I finally gasped. "No," he said, "I would pay $300 to have great sex with you." He winked and smiled. I had already made my decision. I was still rationalizing with myself, but I knew I was about to spread my legs for someone other than my husband. I flushed at the thought. I had never been with any other man, and here I was imagining how it was going to feel to have this stranger inside me. I shivered and felt a tingle as my legs squeezed together in an involuntary contraction. "I make no guarantees," I said, trying to be coy. But the way it came out made it sound like a negotiation.

"All the guarantee I need is visible right now," he said, looking me up and down again. My eyes followed his down to my breasts, and I was shocked to see that my posture had let the front of my dress go slack, and my nipples were visible to anyone who wanted to see them. I jerked upright, and in the same instant felt a hot flash of excitement that caused my nipples to swell beneath the thin fabric. I felt like everyone in the bar was staring at me.

Chris put his hand on my knee, gently stroking his fingers on my thigh. I raised my glass and finished off the last of my drink. This time, however, Chris did not order another round. Instead, he finished his own drink and stood up. He extended his hand to me, and I reached out and took it. I stood up and let him lead me out of the lounge and over to the elevators.

My heart was pounding in my chest while I waited for the elevator, and I felt the eyes of several men scanning my features. When an elevator arrived we stepped inside and Chris press number eleven. The door slid shut and we were alone, accelerating upward. He pulled me to his chest and raised my chin. Looking warmly into my eyes, he bent down and kissed me with stunning passion. The elevator slowed to a stop and the door opened.

Chris put his hand on my back, just above my waist and guided me into the hall. I was breathing as though we had just run up eleven flights of stairs as we turned left and walked toward his room. I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears, and my vagina was tingling with anticipation. I took a deep breath and looked down at myself. I was excited to note that my nipples were clearly imprinted through the sheer fabric, sticking out boldly. We walked past a couple going the other direction, and the guy locked his eyes on me. I knew I looked hot. I was hot--in a way and with an intensity that I hadn't felt in years, if ever. My panties were starting to stick to my dampness, and every movement stimulated me further. We arrived at Chris's room, and I impulsively reached over and squeezed his butt while he unlocked the door. It felt solid, hinting of this man's strength and virility.

As the door swung open, he put his hand on my bottom and squeezed as he pushed me into his room. He turned to kiss me as he closed the door, pulling me tightly against himself. I could feel the hardness of his desire pressing against me, and I rotated my hips to press myself harder against him. The kiss was long and deep with passion, leaving me breathless. Already he had his hand under the back of my dress, caressing me up and down. He cupped his hand under my bottom and pulled me up so that our sexual parts were hard against each other, and I pressed back. He let me back down and continued caressing, this time with both hands. I felt his fingers exploring and moving until he found the waist band of my pantyhose. He gently worked his fingers inside the elastic, tugging downward. In a moment, both of his hands were on my skin, and my bottom was bare. I held him in the embrace, prolonging the moment and cherishing the feeling. We kissed and I rubbed my breasts against his chest.

I reached his shirt and began undoing the buttons until I could get my hands inside and put my palms against his chest. My fingers found his nipples and stroked through the hair around them. He let go of my bottom, shrugged off his jacket and tossed it aside. He reached up and undid the knot of his tie. Then he unbuttoned his cuffs while I unbuttoned his collar and spread his shirt open and pushed it off his shoulders. I pressed my face into his chest, feeling his warmth and savoring the sense of strength that he conveyed. I kicked off my shoes, and reached for my pantyhose, which were still bunched around my thighs. I slid them down, leaning on Chris as I peeled them off my feet. My panties went along, and I felt their wetness as I slipped them off. I tossed them aside, then stood on my toes to enjoy another long, hot kiss. I could feel the cool air under my dress, and there was a drop of warm liquid running slowly down my thigh.

We pressed ourselves against each other, and I felt his hands travelling up and down my sides, from my hips to my breasts, which he squeezed softly. I ran my hands down his chest to his belt. I fumbled to unbuckle it, then groped for the fasteners on his slacks. They unhooked easily, and I slowly drew his zipper down, lowering myself as I slid his slacks down. They were loose fit, and dropped around his ankles as I settled on my knees and ran my hands over the bulging front of his colored briefs. He worked his shoes off and stepped out of his slacks while I ran my lips along the waistband of his briefs. I was running one hand up and down his leg, while rubbing the front of his briefs with the other. I felt him run his fingers through my hair, gently pushing my lips against his lower abdomen. I gently lifted and squeezed the soft weight in his crotch, and brought my other hand up to stroke his now solid erection.

I can't describe what I was feeling at the moment. It was the most exciting feeling I have ever had. My heart was pounding and I was breathing fast and hard. I hooked my fingers over the elastic on the last piece of clothing on this stranger's body and started to pull down. The waist band got caught, and I had to pull the front outward to free it. When I did, the pink tip of his hard penis sprang out, just inches from my face. I put my mouth over it, then slowly withdrew, teasing him with my tongue. I pulled the briefs down to his ankles and he stepped out of them. I put both hands on his penis and felt its size and heat. My heart was racing, my hands were shaking, and my palms were sweating. I was breathing in shallow gasps, and I felt slightly dizzy. I took him into my mouth, and ran my tongue all over the tip. My saliva was flowing, and I realized that I wanted to make him come in my mouth. I had never done that! Not ever. Sometimes I would go down on my husband, but I had never tasted his cum. But now I had to have it.

I started running my mouth up and down, taking him as deeply as I could without gagging myself. I sucked hard, and I squeezed with my hand. I worked my mouth up and down as fast as I could, then pumped him even faster with my hand. I brushed my saliva off my chin, then pulled him down, down, down, until I was lying on my back, holding his hips just above my face. I gripped his hips and pulled him down on me, taking him back in my mouth. I pushed his hips back, then pulled him down again, encouraging him to continue the motion. I lay back and let him do it, keeping my lips closed on him and sucking as he stroked in and out of my mouth.

I could feel his body starting to go rigid, and I knew it was show time. With a shudder he shot my mouth full of warm, creamy liquid that tasted mildly bitter, but not unpleasant. He spurted again, and again, and I sucked it down and swallowed it all, holding him in my mouth and feeling him going soft. When he broke away and rolled over, I kissed him and told him how much I had enjoyed doing that. He kissed me, long and deeply. I felt his hands behind me, first caressing my shoulders, then finding the zipper on my dress. He drew it slowly downward, and I could feel the dress releasing my breasts as it became loose. He held me away from himself and let the dress fall off my shoulders, opening wide in front, and I could feel his eyes all over my breasts. My nipples were standing out as hard as they had ever been, and I loved the feel of his gaze.

I reached down and grasped the hem of my dress and raised it up. I pulled it off over my head and laid it across a chair, while Chris ran his hands up and down my sides, from my hips to my breasts. I pressed against him, feeling my breasts flatten against his chest, and feeling his soft wetness press against my belly. He bent down and kissed my neck. He had his hands on my hips, and in one quick move he lifted me off my feet, turned and placed me on the cocktail table, so that I stood several inches taller than him. He kissed the little V where my collar bones come together, and then moved his mouth slowly down between my breasts. He was teasing my nipples with his fingers, and kissing up and down. I could feel something running down my leg, and I found it impossible to stand still. I started moving my hips and squeezing my legs together, creating a stirring sensation inside myself.

Chris ran his mouth over my nipples and I felt a tingle as his hands ran down to my hips, and further down. I could hear music coming from somewhere, and I started to move with its rhythm. I put my arms over my head and did a slow dance that made me feel hotter than ever. I pulled back from him and danced on the table in a way that showed him everything I had to show. I was acting in blind reaction to the excitement of it all; and the more I responded to the excitement the more excited I became! Still moving with the music, I stepped off the table and danced in a slow circle around the man who I could now see was starting to respond. I stepped to a chair, then onto the dresser, where I danced from one end to the other, turning and kicking my legs in a kind of a can-can. Chris came toward me, with his eyes now level with--well, you know.

As he moved his face toward me, I spread my legs wide and arched my hips forward, and I felt my hair touch his lips. A jolt ran through my body as his tongue touched the swollen, wet softness not quite hidden in the little mat of hair. I put my hands on the ceiling for balance and felt the thrill of his tongue exploring up and down, then pushing deeper into the delicate folds. My heart was thundering inside me. I stood on one foot and put my other leg on his shoulder, and I rubbed myself up and down against his mouth.

His tongue penetrated my depths, something I had never experienced before, causing me to shake involuntarily and suck in my breath. I felt his tongue go in and out, up and down, and I felt his hands gently spread me open. Then he was sucking my little hardness into his mouth, the way I had done to him a few minutes before. He pressed his tongue hard against the sensitive tip of my little erection. I started shaking, and I was wracked by contractions, and I needed him inside me. I stepped from the dresser onto the bed, drawing Chris with me. As he lay me onto my back and positioned himself above me, I suddenly realized the enormity of what was about to happen. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, then arched up beneath him, and I felt him touch me and plunge deep into me in one quick motion! It happen so easily and so fast that I had no time for second thoughts. He was in me, pumping hard, and I was arching up to meet him with each thrust, and it occurred to me in that moment that I was a whore.

He slammed against me repeatedly, and I could feel the wetness spreading. I was panting, and I felt him squeezing my breasts and gently pinching my nipples. Yes, I was a whore, and I was more excited than I had ever been in my life!

Faster and faster he thrust in and out, and with each deep penetration he slammed against my clitoris, sending a jolt through my shaking body. I felt myself coming, and I tried to pull him deeper into me as my body heaved in involuntary contractions. Chris pulled back, then with one more thrust he exploded inside me. With each thrust, he and I both arched and shook in simultaneous ecstacy. He kept thrusting as the spasms subsided until he finally collapsed on top of me. We lay there, and I may have fallen asleep for a few moments, feeling the comfort of his body against mine. When he finally rolled off of me, I started thinking about what was next. I had to be getting home. It was almost time to start dinner. It seemed very strange to think about that while I lay naked and spread open next to a man whose last name I didn't even know. The thought crossed my mind that he could decide not to pay me, and there wouldn't be a thing I could do about it. I decided that it would be okay if that happened. I had had more fun than ever before in my life, and I didn't care if he paid me or not. I sat up and looked at myself in the mirror. My lipstick was gone and my hair was tangled.

I ran my hands through my hair as I got up and headed to the bathroom. When I came out, Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling. He said he wished he could do that again, but that I had used him up. I got dressed while he sat there watching, then I touched-up my makeup and put on lipstick. When I was ready to go, I reached for my purse. Chris's hand touched mine, and I turned to see that he was holding some folded $100 bills. He pushed them into my handbag, smiled and said that it was worth every dime. We kissed and I walked out. When I got home, I quickly took off the red dress and makeup and put on jeans and a sweater. I hid the dress in a clothes bag in the back of my closet. I emptied my purse on the dresser, and was stunned to find that Chris had given me five of those $100 bills! Five hundred dollars! I never saw Chris again. Late in the night I lay awake thinking about what I had done. I decided that it was a one-time event. I had gotten my thrill, and through good luck I had actually made a little profit. But I would never do it again. That's what I decided.

A couple of weeks later, I received the bills for the dress and shoes, and I used the cash to buy money orders to pay them. With the sixty dollars I had left, I took my friend to lunch. She was surprised when I paid the tab, which included a couple of cocktails. But she didn't ask where the money came from, and I didn't tell. That should have been the end of it. But I couldn't help thinking how easy it had been, and I started thinking about what I would do if I had some more money. There were so many little things I had denied myself over the years in order to pay for my husband's toys. I was tired of wearing cheap makeup and old clothes. Could I possibly do it again? Or could I possibly resist doing it again? I thought about it for days, until the idea became an obsession. Yes, I was going to do it again. And that's how it started, three years ago. At first, I did it the same way--put on the red dress and go to a hotel lounge and wait for someone to make the offer. Unfortunately, however, it often didn't work. I would end up wasting a lot of time with guys who never asked the question. So I learned how to ask them--to proposition them. I had decided that my rate would be $250.

It became a routine. I picked Thursday as the best day, and every other week I went out. After a year or so, I had become too familiar around the best hotels. Once, I was "invited" to leave the hotel. As I walked out in total humiliation, a bellman hurried up to me and said he had seen what happened. But he said he could get "dates" for me, if I wanted, so I wouldn't have to hang out in the bars. He said he would collect the money out front, take his commission, and still pay me $250. We struck the deal, and I got myself a cell phone so he could contact me. If I didn't want to do it, I'd just turn the phone off. I started taking dates more frequently, first once a week, then more. I've made deals with bellmen at several hotels, and I have as much business as I can handle. Some of the excitement has worn off, but I have a personal savings account that is over $30,000 now. From time to time, I think about quitting, because I'm certain I'll get caught eventually. But I know I would miss the income, and I would also miss the sex. You may think that prostitutes get bored with sex, but if so, you'd be wrong. The variety and fun keeps me doing it. I don't know where it will end. My husband suggested I get therapy, since I'm so disinterested in sex with him, and I could hardly refuse to go. So here I am. Sometimes I go straight from therapy to a hotel room. I've had sex with about 300 men, and every one has gotten his money's worth!

Animal Rights

I'm not an attractive woman. I'm too thin, my nose is too big, and my complexion isn't great. I have straight hair that never looks good, and I'm painfully shy.

I think it is the shyness that turns men away, more than my plain appearance. They seem to sense my meekness and avoid me. In any case, I never once had a date while I was in high school, and only a few in college--and nobody has ever asked me for a second date. I must be pretty boring, because I can never think of anything to say. What I do say always comes out awkward. I dismissed any romantic notions a long time ago. Oh, it may happen some day, but I've become resigned to my fate, such as it is. I work as a bookkeeper, and have minimal contact with other people, especially men. I've never been to bed with a man.

That doesn't mean I don't know about sex, though. I learned a long time ago how to satisfy myself. The discovery came while I was taking a shower when I was 17 years old. I was slippery with soap, and I touched a part of myself that reacted in a surprising way. I found that the more I massaged that area, the better it felt. I'm afraid I ran out all of the hot water while I ran my fingers up and down my crack. Well, that unfinished job got me interested, so I sneaked a book called "The Joy of Sex" out of my mother's night stand and studied-up on the subject. I had accidentally found the book once while looking for something else, and I was shocked that my mother would have such a thing! But as I read and looked at the pictures, I found myself stirring with a feeling I never knew existed.

Using hand cream, I started feeling-out myself. I got a mirror and squatted over it to try and see what sex was all about. Masturbating became a regular habit, and I looked forward to it the way others might look forward to a date. I had been doing it with increasing frequency for several months before I tried pushing my middle finger into myself. I had to use hand cream, and even with the lubrication, it was a tight fit. I looked at the pictures in Mother's book, and wondered how a woman could ever get something as huge as a man's penis into that tiny hole. Well, I thought, I was probably deformed or something. No matter. I'd never have the chance to try it. My finger was stopped by a barrier of skin before I could get it clear in, but I found it enjoyable to work my finger in and out.

Doing that one day, I accidentally pushed too hard and tore through the blockage. It hurt, and my finger came away with blood on it. But a week later, I discovered that I could push my finger all the way in, and without pain. I learned how to rub my external parts with one hand while stroking a finger in and out with the other. Eventually, I pushed two fingers in together, and I realized that there really would be room for a penis--if only one were available. That's when I started thinking about substitutes. I found a carrot that seemed about the right size, and trimmed the point to a rounded shape. I used baby oil, which I had found was better than hand lotion, to get the carrot to go in. I can't tell you how it felt when I pushed that carrot into myself, feeling it go further in than anything ever had. There was a wonderful sensation when I pulled it slowly out, then pushed it back in. I was surprised how loose it fit after a few minutes of masturbating with it; and I hurried back to the refrigerator to find a fatter carrot.

Masturbating had become a regular routine for me long before I ever knew what an orgasm was. I learned about that one day when I was about 24--two or three years ago. I was in my bathtub shaving my legs, when I decided to shave off the few hairs that grew on my inner thighs, very high up. I sat on the edge of the tub and stroked the razor lightly over my thigh and into the crease at the top. Suddenly I realized that I had gotten myself turned on, and the more I shaved, the more turned on I got. My heart was pounding when I took a pair of scissors and started snipping away at the dense mat of hair on my front. The more I cut, the more excited I got. I climbed onto the counter and sat on the edge of the sink, so I could stand a mirror on the opposite side and watch myself. Somehow, I just couldn't stop. I kept telling myself that I would just trim it a little. Then a little more. Then more. As the pile of hair in the sink grew, so did my excitement, as more and more details of my anatomy showed. Finally, I set the scissors aside and started spreading shaving cream over the remaining hair. I savored the delicious feeling as I fondled myself while applying the cream. Then I started shaving it all away.

There was a sensation building inside me that I had never felt before. I stroked the razor until my front felt smooth, then I started shaving lower, flattening my vulva and shaving every trace of hair up and down both sides. By the time I was finishing, I was panting, and I could feel a hot, slippery liquid all over my now hairless pussy. When I ran my fingers up and down my slit, I found the sensitive little lump at the top sticking up more than it ever had before. Or was it just that I had never noticed before, with all the hair? Either way, I could squeeze it between my fingers and stroke up and down. What a feeling! I rubbed the tip, causing a ripple of spasms through my lower body. I rubbed faster and harder, and in a sudden explosion, I learned what an orgasm was. I kept rubbing even as huge contractions caused my whole body to thrash around on the counter. I rubbed until I could stand it no more, then I lay back against the wall, gasping for breath.

I had finally learned what it was all about, and for a while I wanted to do it every day. I tried a lot of different things, learning which would create the most dramatic effect. I found that a lot of different things turned me on. Once when I had gotten myself all worked up, I put on a raincoat--nothing but a raincoat and shoes, and walked around the block. I can't tell you how exciting that was!

It became such a regular part of my sex ritual that I felt like I had to give myself an "excuse" to be out walking. So I got a dog. I had been wanting one for a long time anyway, and when a friend who was moving out of town needed to find a home for her Alaskan Malamute, I said I would take him. Sherman was a big friendly dog with soft brown eyes that seemed to speak more than any words could. He was a good companion on my walks, even after the weather had warmed up too much for wearing the coat. I found other ways to get myself turned on until the weather cooled down again. Occasionally I would find a video movie that would get me hot. I even got a couple of mail-order X-rated movies, but I found them to be too gross for my tastes. I prefer movies with a lot of emotion and maybe some skin. It was while watching just such a movie that I started playing with myself. My robe was open and my legs were spread. I was getting close, and I threw my head back and closed my eyes to get ready for the final thrill.

That's when I felt Sherman nudge my hand with his nose. At first I tried to push him away, but then on a whim I wondered if I could get him to lick me. What would that feel like? I coaxed him forward, spreading my legs wide. I held the sides of his head, scratching his ears, and I pulled his muzzle forward, until his nose touched me. In a second, he lapped his tongue up my throbbing, swollen pussy. Oh, what a spectacular thing it was to feel that hot tongue licking me! I let go of his head and used my hands to spread myself open for him, and he responded with enthusiasm. Then to my utter shock, he sprang forward and hugged me with his paws, and I could feel his penis striking at me as he attempted to penetrate me. I tried to release his grip on me and was surprised by his strength. I squirmed, but he held on tight and kept thrusting, trying to find the place that his instincts told him was there.

Rolling to my left, I managed to get my legs together, but the dog was in a kind of a frenzy. He humped the side my leg while still holding me around the waist,. His claws scratched my belly, and I could feel his wet penis rubbing against my leg. I kept turning, onto my knees, still trying to get to my feet, not realizing that I was presenting Sherman with the opportunity he needed. With a startling thrust, he rammed his penis into me, and locked his forelegs around me. Without pausing, he started pumping in and out. I struggled, but that just made him hold me more tightly. He was grunting and panting, and I suddenly realized that I was too! At almost the same instant, I was seized in a quivering orgasm. I was shaking and convulsing, and my dog was pumping hard and fast. I could feel his penis swell inside me, and it seemed like I was going to burst.

Finally, with a whimper, my dog came inside me, and his excitement began to wane. But I couldn't get him out of me! It was as if he had a huge knot in his penis that prevented him from pulling out. I learned later that that was pretty close to the truth. Dogs have a bulb that swells up and keeps them in place for as long as 20 minutes after they come. I was starting to feel panicky at the thought of having to call 911 to get him loose, when at last he got out. I collapsed on the floor, exhausted and confused. I was stunned by what had happened, and even more stunned by my body's reaction. There had been something very thrilling about feeling that penis in me, and feeling it gush hot fluid into me.

Sherman licked himself carefully, then walked over and sat next to me. He looked at me with what seemed like a mixture of gratitude and affection. I got up and went to the bathroom to inspect my scratches. I wiped them with alcohol, feeling the sting and resolving that I'd never do that again without wearing a sweatshirt to protect myself from his claws. With a start, I realized what I had just thought! I was actually planning to let him do that again! It was true. I was going to do it again. As I thought about it, I realized how much I had enjoyed feeling a hot, living penis instead of an oily carrot inside me. I was ashamed of my thoughts, but excited by them as the same time. For the rest of the day I was in a kind of a haze, and Sherman was at my side every minute.

About a week later, I was ready to do it again. This time, I started by rolling Sherman onto his back and rubbing his belly. I stroked his neck, and eventually worked my hand over his penis. I squeezed a few times and saw the pink tip start to emerge. With fascination, I watched it grow as I squeezed over and over. Sherman just lay still, letting me masturbate him. I was surprised how big his penis grew! It was much longer that I had imagined, and I wondered how that all fit inside me. I squeezed and stroked him, and watched how the area just beneath tip of Sherman's penis ballooned to the size of a lemon. I stroked him faster and watched as he spurted his cum high in the air. I had never imagined that it could be so stimulating to me, just watching him shoot his load! At that point, I was too excited to stop. I started stroking and rubbing myself, and in a moment, there was Sherman, licking my pussy. I let him go. He licked until I came. But I felt somewhat let down, because I had really wanted him to fuck me again (can I say that?). The next day, I thought about it all day at work. I went home filled with anticipation and desire. I got myself worked up by shaving myself, as I had done that first time and several subsequent times. Sherman watched with interest, perhaps attracted by the scent of my growing excitement. I pulled on a thick sweatshirt and then stood in front of Sherman, feeling him nudge his wet nose against my shaved pussy. He stood up suddenly and put his paws on my shoulders, and I could see that he was ready. So was I.

Dropping to my hands and knees, I let Sherman find his way up onto my back. I arched and rotated my hips, and felt the hot hardness of Sherman's penis drive into me. He started pumping immediately, and I could feel him swell. I came, and kept on coming while he fucked me. I lay my face on the floor, gasping as Sherman thrust against me again and again and again. At last, with a sudden shudder, he pumped his seed into me. Oh, what I feeling. It was so much better this time than the first time! So that's how it started. I kept on having sex with my dog a couple of times a week for most of the next year. I started to fantasize about having sex with other animals, but I couldn't figured out how. Then one day while driving in the country, I saw a horse with a huge erection. I knew, of course, that I could never get one of those in me, but I just had to stop for a closer look.

I climbed over the wooden fence and slowly approached the stallion. He walked toward me, and I saw that he was losing his erection. I stroked his face for a few minutes and let him get used to my touch. By then his erection was nearly gone, but I reached under and touched him anyway. He showed no objection, so I started running my hand up and down and was immediately rewarded. As he became aroused, the length and thickness of his sex organ grew to an astonishing size, way over a foot long and so thick I couldn't get my hand clear around it. I stroked him up and down, and he kind of stretched out. I could tell he was going to let me do it! I started stroking him harder and faster, and got myself more and more turned on. At last, he burst forth with a fountain of warm white fluid that sprayed all over, some of it landing on my arms and face. By then I had unzipped my jeans and was masturbating. I dropped to the ground and was furiously rubbing myself, when a shadow fell across me. "Can I help you?" a voice said.

I looked up to see a man old enough to be my father standing no more than six feet away! He must have seen everything. I was embarrassed beyond words! I was struggling to get my jeans back up as he stepped closer. "Don't stop on my account," he said.

I looked up and saw that he already had his fly open and was jerking himself off. I couldn't believe it! I guess I thought I was the only one in the world who masturbated, but the sight of that old guy thrashing away on his erection erased that notion. Still struggling to pull up my jeans, I watched him. "Come on, honey," he said, "you got nothing to hide. I seen it all." I couldn't tell if that was a smile or a leer on his face.

Either way, he was by then standing right over me. He dropped to his knees beside me, with his erection so close I could see every detail. He took my hand and pulled it up and wrapped my fingers around his erection. I felt a strong surge that somehow caused me to close my grip, resulting in a second surge, more powerful than the first.

He let go of my hand, but I held on and squeezed hard. He felt solid in my hand, and I started to take a closer look. It was quite different from the horse or dog. Just like the pictures in my mother's old book. That made me remember the pictures in the book showing a woman taking a penis in her mouth! Before I could even finish the thought, I realized that the man was pushing toward me, toward my face. Instead of trying to escape, I watched with a mixture of fascination and fear as that dark pink point came toward me. By then I had both hands on him, right at the base of his erection, pushing against him. But I remained transfixed by the sight of his erection. Then he was straddling me and bending forward, aiming right at my mouth.

I felt the hot flesh touch my mouth and spread a slippery wetness across my lips. I reflexively went to lick my lips, but ended up licking that soft pink weapon that forced its way into my mouth! Still pushing against him, I closed my lips just below the tip. I could taste him, and feel his heat, and feel the pulse of his throbbing manhood. I swallowed hard. Then I sucked and swallowed again. He pushed forward and I stopped resisting until he went too far and I started to gag. I pushed him back forcefully, nearly out of my mouth, but he pushed himself back in. Again I had to push him back. This time I gasped, "No, pull down my pants!"

But he was back in my mouth again, pumping rapidly in short strokes. I tugged at my jeans, peeling them as far as I could reach. Again I pushed him back, and this time he paused to look beneath himself and see my naked, hairless crack. Then he moved off me and yanked my jeans clear off. My panties stayed on my thighs, and he tore them apart. Then he rammed into me and started deep fast strokes. I lay back and let him. After a minute or two, I found myself moving in rhythm with him, rising to meet each stroke. He was breathing hard and screwing hard, and I opened up in total acceptance and submission. My heart was pounding and I too was gasping for breath. Contractions seized me, and my vagina throbbed as I felt my release. Even as I was arching up in ecstacy, I felt him drive deep and gush forth in repeated thrusts, groaning with each surge. He filled me to overflowing, and I could feel warm liquid running out of myself even before his spasms subsided.

I lay with my eyes closed, catching my breath. After a minute the man rolled off of me and got up. I looked up and saw him pulling up his overalls and buttoning his fly. He was done and he simply turned and walked away.

"You can come back anytime you want," he said without looking back. I lay there for a minute more, then sat up and looked around. He was gone. I wiped myself off with my ripped panties, then discarded them and pulled on my jeans. The horse followed me back to the fence as I made my way back to my car. I'm still not sure if I was raped. I guess not, because I think that some day I may go back there, but not to masturbate a horse. Meanwhile, it's just Sherman and me.

The Good Humor Man

Military wives throughout history have learned how to deal with long separations from their men. I've heard enough stories to know that my own experience is not terribly unusual--except in one key respect. You see, I found the relief from my boredom and loneliness in a fourteen year old. He rode through my neighborhood every afternoon on a pedal-powered ice cream wagon. I used to buy Popsicles or ice cream bars from him once or twice a week, without ever really noticing him. All that changed the day he discovered my boobs. I had been in my back yard catching some sun when I heard the jingle of the ice cream wagon bells, so I hurriedly tossed a wrap over my bikini and ran out to flag him down.

I was about the only one on my block who ever bought from him, so he tended to ride by kind of fast. Shouting as I ran, I got his attention and he pulled to a stop at the curb. My wrap had fallen open, but that was okay. I was not indecently exposed by anyone's standards except possibly for a few Puritans or Mormons. My little sprint from the back yard had left me breathing hard by the time I got to the street. I made a comment about how I had nearly missed him, then took a deep breath. His eyes locked on my cleavage like radar on an enemy missile.

I found myself amused at his total lack of discretion in the way he stared at my chest. Maybe he thought I couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses. In any case, his gaze remained riveted on my boobs while I took another breath and asked what flavors he had. "Cherry, orange, root beer, banana . . ." he began, as I rested my forearms on the top of the freezer chest and leaned forward. I deliberately pulled my elbows in to squeeze my boobs out a little more, and I could see his eyes widen. It was really comical. He stumbled over his words as I shrugged my shoulders in mock perplexity at all the choices. Finally settling on an orange Creamsicle, I gave him a quarter (that tells you how long ago this was!) and chided him to ride slower next time. Dropping from tiptoes gave my boobs a good bounce for him before I turned and walked away.

I chuckled to myself as I thought how blatant he had been in ogling me. It was as if he had never seen boobs before. Come to think of it, he probably never had. And mine are not something I have ever been humble about: I have great boobs, and I'm proud of it! But it was boredom more than anything else that prompted me to keep on teasing the poor kid. I tried to buy from him every day, often sporting a top that showed a little bit of what I have. And every time, I was rewarded with his appreciative stare. We chatted a little bit from time to time, and I learned that his name was Larry.

Sometimes I wore a swimsuit of one kind or another, and other times I went with a low-cut top or something sheer so he could see my bra through it. But the thing is, he never really saw anything. He just kept hoping that he might. Weeks passed this way, and it became a kind of a game with me. At some point, I started thinking of how I might give him a little glimpse of what he was trying so hard to see. So one day I dressed special for the occasion. I wore short shorts and a dark blue halter top that showed a wide V of cleavage. I made sure that it was a little bit loose. After hearing the bells, I waited until he was passing my house before I rushed outside.

I called to him, and trotted out to the curb. His radar acquired the target and locked on. Giving him a smile that he never saw, I asked him (for about the 50th time) to recite his menu. When I stepped down off the curb, the top of the freezer was about 4 or 5 inches above my waist. I leaned forward so that my boobs rested on the flat stainless steel, pretending that I didn't know that doing so caused the halter to go slack and gape open. I knew from his instant nervousness that he was seeing more than he had before. He was having trouble remembering what flavors he had, and his eyes were wide with interest. I glanced down at myself and knew that he had a clear view of my right nipple. He was so funny, trying to act calm while conspicuously shifting around for a better look. I finally ordered a Fudgesicle. When he reached for the coin changer on his belt, I noticed that he was sporting a little hard-on that he was trying hard to conceal. I walked away with a feeling of victory and naughtiness. And I started wondering what I could do next time.

One of the fashions of the era was the stretch knit body suit. It was short-sleeved, yellow, and snapped in the crotch. It fit like a heavy coat of paint. With that and a pair of black hip-hugger shorts (and nothing else) I trotted out to buy a Popsicle. The jiggling and bouncing rubbed my nipples to maximum height by the time I reached the ice cream wagon.

I commented that it was kind of a sultry afternoon, and put my hands behind my head and stretched like a cat in the sunshine. Larry watched with appreciation, and I pretended not to notice. When he opened the lid and reached down inside the freezer, I leaned over as if to see inside, deliberately pressing my boob against his arm. I held it there for several seconds then bounced back on my heels and ordered an ice cream sandwich. As I walked toward my house, I looked back and caught a glimpse of Larry rearranging things in his shorts before he rode away. More fun! Without realizing it, I found myself raising the stakes just about every day, always looking for a way to get a little bigger thrill out of giving Larry a bigger thrill. The real change came the day I wore a tight fitting, pale pink top that left nothing whatsoever to the imagination. Larry zeroed-in on my nipples the moment I stepped out the door, and even as I strolled toward him I could see the effect it had on him. It was another very hot day, and the sidewalk was too hot to stand on with my bare feet. I danced around for a few seconds before backing off to the coolness of the lawn.

That's when I asked him if he couldn't just pull into the driveway and knock on the side door. Then I wouldn't have to prance around on the burning concrete, and he wouldn't have to ride so slowly on this block where I was his only customer. Now, in the condition he was in at that moment, he would have agreed to just about anything. So the deal was struck while he studied and admired my chest. Ahh, such power!

A knock on the door, and there was Larry, observing that my blouse was unbuttoned nearly to my waist. He had put a selection of items in a box and carried them to the door. Not wanting to let too much heat in, I waved him, closing the door behind him. I made him recite what he had brought in, while I struck a pose that would "accidentally" give him the best view inside my blouse. From then on, I never ran out to the street. I just listened for his knock on my door. A few days later, I was lying on a blanket in my back yard when I heard him on the driveway. I called out, telling him where I was. He opened the gate then froze for a moment when he saw that my back was bare. As he tentatively came forward, I fumbled to hold the unfastened top of my bikini to my chest as I rolled over and "struggled" to my feet.

I thought he was going to start drooling. One side of the bikini top flopped down, and I pretended that I didn't know that my boob was hanging out. Larry was not able to pretend. As he stared, I watched the rapidly growing bulge in his shorts.

Acting momentarily confused, as if I had never dressed myself before, I asked if he could fasten my top. He looked for a place to drop the box of Popsicles, and finally put them at his feet, while I stepped toward him. As he stood up I could have brushed my breast against his cheek, but I just stood still, giving him a good, close look. He glanced up and his eyes froze on mine as he realized that I had finally caught him looking. And he had been so subtle! I held his eyes and flashed a coy smile before reaching for the wayward cup. Instead of hastily covering myself after my "accident," I pulled the whole top away and held it to the side, thrusting my chest out proudly. "Oh, well . . ." I bubbled, "I guess you've seen me now. Might as well see it all."

He gulped hard and tried to find something to say. I carefully brought the top up under my boobs, and after a protracted pause, put it in place. I turned and it took a couple of seconds for Larry to understand that he was supposed to fasten the top behind my back. I bought a Drumstick, and as he made change it looked like his shorts were about to burst open. I can only imagine what the rest of his day was like! A few days later, he again caught me with my top loose. Instead of flashing him, though, I asked if he would mind putting some lotion on my back. I covered my boobs with my hands, leaving my top on the blanket as I stood up. Oh dear, bad planning! I had to free a hand in order to pick up my lotion. So I slid my other hand over, more or less covering both boobs with my hand and arm. I'm sure he sneaked a look.

Handing him the lotion, I turned my back. I felt the cool lotion high on my back, then I felt his fingers cautiously start to spread it around. I told him to be sure to use enough, and rub it in good. I certainly didn't want to burn! I moved my shoulders and bent forward as he spread the lotion. I put my hands on my hips to make sure that he knew I was uncovered in front, and I could only guess what his imagination was doing to him!

When he was applying lotion to my lower back, I pulled my waistband out and told him to be sure to get below the elastic line--I didn't want a red stripe. He choked a little bit, but went ahead. Then, still facing away from him, I put my arms on top of my head and asked him to do my sides. One side at a time, he spread the lotion from my hips to my arm pits. Whenever he touched my boobs I made little sounds of encouragement. But of course he was too shy to reach on around. With a start, I realized that my heart was pounding and I was breathing hard and fast. Covering my breasts with one hand and arm, I turned to face him. I looked him straight in the eyes and stepped forward. As I brushed past him, I ran my hand purposefully across the front of his shorts, feeling his size and hardness. I picked up my top and put it in place, giving Larry, who was blushing brightly, a good long look at my boobs along the way. I walked over and let him fasten it. Then I turned and held out my hand. He hesitated, so I reached down and took his hand and brought it up. I said thank you, then placed his hand over my right breast. "Feel my heartbeat?" I asked.

I pressed his hand against me and felt him squeeze a little bit. My other hand rubbed up and down the front of his shorts for a few long moments. Then I stepped away and reminded him that his ice cream was going to melt.

Licking my Popsicle, I watched him push his cart down my driveway into the street. I had gone a lot farther than I had intended, but I was flushed with the sense of power that I had over him. He was a good looking kid, a bit skinny and an inch or two shorter than me. It would probably be another four or five years before he finished growing. I now knew that he wasn't very big in the shorts either, if you get my meaning. Oh, he was quite capable of getting a hard-on, but it couldn't have been even as much as four inches. I didn't care, though. I was just tantalized by the process of teasing the kid. The outcome wasn't important. I could take care of myself. In fact, I went into the house and took care of myself right then.

Next time I saw him I knew he would have some expectations and hopes. I gave him next to nothing. Just a look at what a push-up top did for my boobs. He didn't say anything or make any kind of a move. It was my show all the way. He had no idea what to do. The weekend went by, and on Monday I sat on my porch until I heard the jingle of his bells a couple of blocks up the road. I hurried into the house and quickly stripped. Then I poured warm water over my hair, making sure it was all wet. I was soaking up the water with a towel when I heard the knock. I called for him to come on in, I'd be out in a second. I slipped on the white satin robe that my husband had brought home from Hong Kong, and walked out to the kitchen, still towelling my hair. Obviously, I had just stepped out of the shower. I shot him a warm smile as he studied the shape of my nipples imprinted through the satin. I pulled out a chair from my kitchen table and sat down to finish drying my hair. Putting the towel aside, I fluffed up my damp hair with both hands. The slippery satin slid off my knees, leaving me nude from the hips down. I absently let my knees spread while I looked at the ceiling and ran my fingers through my hair.

When I looked back down, his mouth was open and he was staring into my lap. I let him look. And look. He finally glanced up and did a double-take when he saw that I was watching him. He instantly turned beet red and started to say something. His mouth moved but nothing came out. I reached down, untied my robe and spread it all the way open, still looking him in the eyes, which shot wide open. I stood and walked over to him, leaving my robe on the chair. I took his hand and led him out of the kitchen into the living room. There, I stepped back from him and struck a pose and let him scan my body. He was uncertain what to do, and didn't know what to say. So I took his hands and put them on my breasts. I had to coax him to move his hands around and feel all that was there. Looking down on him, I started unbuttoning his white shirt. After the last button, I continued without pause to unbutton his cutoff jeans. I knelt down and kissed his chest while I drew his zipper down. His hands were shaking as I pulled his cutoffs and undershorts down. His miniature hard-on jumped out, and I leaned forward to touch it with my breast.

I reached behind him and pulled him against me, rubbing my boobs across his small penis, which was sticking straight up and felt as hard as wood. I pulled him down to the floor and then pushed him flat on his back. Kneeling next to him, I finished removing his shorts and shoes. He lay naked on the floor in front of me, and looked at me apprehensively. He looked fragile and he was almost gasping for breath. It was plain that he didn't know what to do, and he self consciously put his hands over his lap. I smiled and lifted his hands, looking at him the way he had been looking at me all summer. His penis was surrounded by a sparse growth of fine hair that let every detail of his anatomy show clearly. I noticed that he had no hair on his chest, and barely any even under his arms.

I ran my hands up his legs and felt the softness of his balls, the skin of which was drawn part way up his penis, whose skin was stretched tightly down from the pink tip. I ran my hand over his goodies, and felt him shudder. I put his hands back on my breasts and put a leg across him. He squeezed my breasts lightly as I positioned my target above his arrow. I reached down and pointed him in the right direction, then lowered myself onto his little erection. He slid in easily and smoothly, and in an instant I was sitting firmly on his bony hips. His eyes were wide and he was panting. I moved myself in a slight circular motion, and I felt him start to shake and quiver. The startled look on his face and the violent contractions told me that he had just unloaded in me. I continued to work, however, until he dropped out of me, limp and dripping.

Clearly embarrassed, he acted as if he had been caught wetting his pants. I took his shirt and started wiping him dry. He was used up, but I was just getting worked up. Even though I was aching for relief, I told him how much he had satisfied me, and that seemed to please him. I continued wiping after there was nothing left to wipe away, hoping that I could stimulate new life into his shrunken, soft penis. Sitting next to him, I pulled his hand into my lap, urging him to explore me. I lay down on my side, facing him, with my face near his hips and his near mine. I felt him tentatively pet my furry mound and press his fingers into my labia. As he did that, life started to return to his little penis. I squeezed him, rather like milking a goat, and felt a pulsing throb. Squeezing repeatedly, he was starting to come back, and I could feel his fingers spreading me open and exploring what I had. I looked up at his face and caught his eyes. Smiling, I bent down and took the tip of his penis in my mouth. He was so surprised that he jerked back and pulled it out. Reaching down, I drew him back up and closed my mouth around him and felt him surge back to hardness. I pulled back slowly, running my tongue up the bottom of his new erection, pausing at the spot just below the tip, where I teased and tickled him with my tongue. He arched up beneath me, and I thought he was coming again already.

Giving him a moment to collect himself, I looked up at him and smiled again. With a motion of my head I tried to signal that he should kiss me where I had kissed him; but he didn't get it. So I turned to face him and threw my leg across him again, this time above his chest. Lowering myself down, I rubbed myself against his chest, eventually opening myself up and feeling his skin against my most sensitive parts. I inched my way upward until I could pin his arms down with my knees and then positioned myself above his face. He looked at my bush with a mixture of lust and confusion as I reached down and massaged myself. His eyes locked with fascination on my pussy as I spread it open. I ran my fingers up and down my labia and massaged my clit aggressively. As I settled my pussy down onto his mouth, he looked up at me in near panic. I felt his lips against my lips of an entirely different kind, and I pressed hard against him. He struggled for a moment, and I might have been suffocating him, so I raised slightly. "Lick it," I coaxed, "go ahead, lick it!"

Obediently, he cautiously put his tongue into my pussy. "Yes," I whispered, "more, more!" He licked up and down still not sure what was happening. "Stick your tongue inside," I urged. When I felt his tongue begin to explore my vagina I felt a quivering inside me. "Oh," I moaned, "that's good!" Backing away, I smiled down and saw him smile sheepishly back. I bent down and kissed his mouth, tasting my own pussy as I did. I kissed him long and hard, then backed off. I turned around and straddled him the other direction, pleased to see that his little penis was again in full erection. I looked back and smiled at him before bending down and again taking him in my mouth. Closing my lips around him, I lowered my face, sliding my lips down the smooth, tight skin until my face was pressed into his soft hair. That was a new experience for me. Larger erections would gag me before I could take them clear in, but this was novel and strangely exciting. I started sucking, and running my mouth up and down, while I carefully put my pussy back on his mouth.

He was moving his legs apart and together while I sucked on him and teased with my tongue. Holding the base of his penis in my hand, I played with the tip with my tongue, and I teased at the little slit, tasting the sweet slippery fluid that squeezed out.

I rocked my hips slowly, working my pussy over his mouth, opening myself wider. He ran his tongue up my crack, sending shivers through me. "Yes, do that!" I cried, "Do it more!" His tongue touched my clit and started a shaking in my loins, and I pressed down on him. I was there! I sucked furiously trying to get him off as I felt myself open up and flush into his mouth. Sucking on the tip, jerking him off, licking, I felt him arch up under me. He let out a loud grunt and spurted his hot liquid into my mouth. Thrashing and heaving under me, he surged again, and again as I swallowed and sucked. I kept at it until he became still, gasping for breath. So was I. I turned around and kissed his mouth again, letting our flavors mix, both of us tasting both of us. After a few minutes, his breathing had slowed, and he said he had to be going. Gathering his clothes, he stood up and started to dress. I lay there watching him steal little glances at my naked body, but eventually got up and went to the kitchen and put on my robe. He came in and looked sadly at the melting Popsicles on the table. I gave him two dollars and told him not to worry about it. He was buttoning his shirt, ignoring the damp spots on the back. Nervously, he said thanks or something, then went out the door. I watched him ride his ice cream wagon out of the driveway and down the street.

I entertained Larry a couple more times before the summer came to an end and he went back to school. But it wasn't the same after the first time. The excitement came from the seduction, and once that was done it was just a novel way to amuse myself. He stopped by after school one day in October, undoubtedly hoping to score, but I told him that my husband was back from WESTPAC and it wouldn't be good for him to get caught here. We moved out of San Diego shortly after that, and I never saw Larry again. But I'll bet he remembers me!

A Circle of Friends

I've been divorced for five years now, and I know my way around. My first lover was a man who used to be my neighbor. We bumped into each other in the grocery store and chatted about old times. He asked about my husband and I told him that we were divorced. "Yeah," he said, holding up his ringless left hand, "It seems to be going around." He invited me for a drink later, so I met him at an Irish pub. It was St. Patrick's Day. We ended up making out on the couch in my living room, and for the first time in years I really wanted sex. I led him to my bedroom, where we made love with an urgency that reflected the pent up needs that followed years of dwindling romance and eventual celibacy in my marriage. Basically, I screwed his lights out. Our relationship was hot and happy for five months, but began to fade out after that. By the next St. Patrick's Day, it was clear that it was time to look elsewhere for love. The problem was that I didn't know where to look. I had already checked out all of the possibilities where I work, and nobody I had any interest in was available.

I tried going to bars to see what I might find, but that was a total waste. I had slimy guy drooling all over me, but I found nearly all of them to be of no interest whatsoever. I signed up for a dance class at a community college, hoping to find a partner there, but ended up dancing with another woman because there weren't enough men to go around. I went to a couple of "singles" clubs, but all of the men there were losers.

Then I spent over two thousand dollars to subscribe to a supposedly high-class matchmaking service. They had seemed quite professional, and they set up dates for me based on extensive pre-screening. The high cost of entry did do a good job of filtering out the scum, but I never met anyone I considered a "keeper." I did strike up a yearlong relationship with a guy who could satisfy me sexually, but not emotionally, so I moved on. Eventually I used up my allotted number of dates and saw no reason to renew.

I joined a ski club that organized all kinds of activities for singles, but found again that most of the men were rejects, desperate and clingy. I even tested the personals ads in the newspaper and on the internet, meeting a lot of men, sleeping with a few, but developing nothing of substance. Sometime during all of this, I came to the realization that I was using men for sport. And whatever game I found myself in, it seemed that I held all the cards. That is, there were always guys wanting me, and I could just take my pick. I was finding that I really enjoyed "test driving" different guys. More and more often, I was having sex on the first date, something I had once thought I would never do. I wasn't a lust-crazed nymphomaniac or anything, but I really was starting to enjoy the excitement of one-nighters. In the middle of all this, I heard a radio commercial for an outfit called "Excitement and Activities" for singles. When I called them, they invited me in for an interview. It was quite a process, starting with a 12-page questionnaire dealing with everything from my hobbies to my age and appearance, my education and employment to my sexual interests. Some of the sex questions were extremely personal, but since they were multiple choice, I wasn't terribly uncomfortable answering them honestly. They asked me to wait while they reviewed my application, and I spent the next 15 minutes looking through color brochures and a big scrapbook featuring some of the club's outings. There was rafting, ballooning, skiing, sky diving, backpacking--all things I like to do, plus a lot of things I had never done. At last, the door opened and the tall blonde lady invited me in for an interview. She introduced herself as Sheila, then she introduced her business partner, a good looking guy named Mark. Mark and Sheila had started Excitement and Activities as an exclusive club for a select group. They were the only employees, and membership fees paid only for their salaries, the office, and occasional advertising. Membership was kept at about 400 people, and the dues were $2500 a year. All of the club activities were open to members at cost.

They told me that membership was always divided equally between the sexes. When I walked in, they were recruiting only women. Other times they would accept only men, so the balance was carefully maintained. Participation in specific events was for couples only, so there wouldn't be anyone left "odd man out." You could find your own date among members or let them pick for you. There were regular no-host social gatherings where members could get acquainted, and at some of these, prospective members could mingle with members and get a feel for the group. Sheila and Mark invited me to attend the next one as their personal guests. I would meet a lot of members, including the 10-person membership committee, who ultimately would decide if I would be invited to join. Wow! This really was an exclusive club! I was flattered to have passed the first screening.

The event was held at a nice private club in a downtown high-rise, and was attended by about 60 or 70 people. The first thing I noticed was that everyone there was attractive. The men were well groomed and seemed to be well educated and successful. Well, they had to be, or they couldn't afford the dues. The women were tastefully--and in some cases, boldly-- dressed, confident, and fit. It seemed to me that I had landed in singles heaven. Mark and Sheila introduced me to one person after another, and I must say that I was truly dazzled. The $2500 a year cost was starting to look like a good deal. After a couple of cocktails and a lot of socializing, Sheila introduced me to the membership committee, and told me that they were ready to interview me. I had passed another screening. In a booth in the corner, each member of the committee took a turn asking questions, mostly related to answers I had given on my original questionnaire. It must have taken two hours to talk to everyone, then the whole group came together and they let me ask any questions I had. It was all very comfortable, despite how it sounds, and I really enjoyed socializing with this group.

The evening ended with warm hugs and good wishes all around, and I knew I would be crushed if they didn't let me join. Never in my life have I felt such a sense of belonging in a group this size. Sheila said they would poll the membership committee the next day and let me know. Well, I must have said the right things, because they voted to let me in. I was ecstatic!

That afternoon I went in to pay my first year's dues and sign the membership contract. As one would expect, Sheila urged me to read carefully before signing. All members were required to be unmarried, all statements made on the application were true and accurate, any breach of contract would result in expulsion and possible forfeiture of dues. If members get married, they will be refunded the pro-rated amount of their membership fees. There was the standard three-day right to recision, a lot of language about confidentiality, and one paragraph printed in bold type that brought it all into focus: "The purpose of this club is to organize events and activities that bring men and women of similar interests together for the express purpose of developing emotional and/or sexual relationships. I understand and will support this purpose through my participation in club functions." I read it again, thought about my life over the past couple of years, then signed, Krista E. Matthews, 3-17-95. Sheila gave me a membership handbook, the current issue of the club newsletter, and a handful of brochures and literature relating to specific future activities. One last thing. She measured me for a member's ring. It was a gold ring set with a blue topaz center stone flanked by two small diamonds. She also showed me the larger men's version, then explained that members could spot one another that way. I went home and read through all of the material. Every Friday, a particular bar or lounge would be designated for "Social Mixing." The newsletter each month listed the schedule, and there was a calendar of coming events. These ranged from three-week Caribbean cruises to European tours to mountain climbing treks.

I picked up my ring on Friday, then that evening I dressed up in a fairly modest cocktail dress and went to the selected bar. It was a place called "The Seafarer" built on pilings over the water of Puget Sound. Finding a table out of the traffic, I sat down and ordered a drink. While I waited for it I took a good look around. I was early, and the band was still setting up their equipment. There were still lots of empty tables, but as I scanned the room I could see that most of the people there were wearing E&A rings. I recognized some faces from my "interview" evening. Before my drink arrived, a tall, attractive man with a dark blue pin-striped suit approached me. He was smiling warmly, and he flashed his ring. "You're new," he said in a matter of fact way. "May I?" he asked, motioning to the empty seat next to me. "Of course," I said, truly impressed by how well the system worked. I had spent entire evenings in bars without meeting a person I wanted to sit with. This was great! "I'm Krista," I said, offering my hand. "I'm Cary," he said as he took my hand and squeezed it warmly. He sat down and brushed imaginary lint from his sleeve. "Yes. I'm new," I admitted. "So tell me about this deal." "Well, you already know the official rules," he began. "And the unofficial ones?" I asked. "Oh, there are so many . . . I hardly know where to begin. Hang around here tonight and learn." "That's what I came for," I said as the waitress arrived with my drink.

Cary ordered a drink for himself, then we continued our warm-ups. He said that one unwritten rule was that no member could leave alone. Grinning, he offered to help me make good on that one. He wasn't wasting any time, was he? I didn't answer, but acknowledged the offer with a noncommittal movement that was neither a nod nor a shake of my head. We talked about our careers, our interests, our hobbies and our education. When the band started playing, we went to the dance floor, and I found that Cary could do a pretty respectable East Coast swing. Going back to our table, we ran into a another couple Cary knew, and he invited them to join us at our table. I became the topic of conversation, since I was new, and I repeated a lot of what I had already said. It would be easier if they just published the questionnaires. Well, maybe not, I thought, remembering some of my answers to the sex questions.

After a while, though, I was able to start asking them questions, and pretty soon they were telling stories about some of their adventures with E & A. Two more couples joined us to fill our table, and we became a semi-rowdy laughing crowd, as if we were all old friends. I really was enjoying myself. Cary and I danced quite a bit. He was pretty good--by that I mean that he could make me look pretty good, when I'm actually a mediocre dancer. The other men at the table asked me to dance a couple of times, too, and Cary danced a few times with their partners. Another of the unwritten rules, he told me, is that jealousy is strictly prohibited. Stake your claim, but always stay willing to share. As I looked around the now crowded bar, it seemed that a majority of those present were E&A members. I commented on that and Cary told me that it was typical. When a group the size of ours agrees to meet in one place, we are bound to dominate it.

I remembered an obnoxious expression from the '70s, "Beautiful People," generally meaning people who had the things the rest of us wished we had. But somehow the term kept coming back to me as I studied the couples who filled the room. A non-member asked one of the other women from our table for a dance as she and I walked back from the rest room. With a quick glance at his hand, she turned him down. Was that a hint of snobbery? Back at the table she explained that it was another of the unwritten rules: Members were for members. So much to learn. I asked Cary about the rule, and he explained by reminding me of some of the more personal parts of the questionnaire: Do you have or have you ever had any of the following diseases . . . The list included every sexually transmitted disease I ever heard of and several I hadn't. "I know how you answered every one of those," he said. "But how . . ." I began. "You answered negative," he interrupted. "You wouldn't be in the club otherwise." "Oh," I said, recognizing the obvious. "And I'll tell you something else," he continued. "They ran a check to make sure." "How could . . ." I started. Again he anticipated the question before I asked it. "Insurance company databases, public health records, all kinds of information is available to anyone who knows how to look for it. There's no such thing as medical confidentiality."

I vaguely resented the invasion of my privacy, but at the same time I felt comforted and somewhat liberated to know that nobody at the table put me at risk. Members are for members. Now it made perfect sense, and I felt a certain kind of intimacy as I looked at everyone around the table. It felt a little bit like walking around on a nude beach (something else I had done a few times in the last few years) in the sense that we all knew something very personal about everyone else. As the evening wore on, couples were sitting closer and closer to their partners. Cary was sitting very close, and touching became more frequent and occasionally more personal. Little things, like a hand caressing my hip while walking to or from the dance floor, or a touch at the back of my neck. Then when we were back at the table, I felt his hand locate the high slit in my long dress and find its way to my knee. I welcomed him by pressing my leg against his, and he acknowledged with a gentle squeeze. We sipped our drinks and told stories and laughed with each other and with the others at the table. Acquaintances of theirs stopped by the table from time to time and were introduced to the "newcomer," and I was starting to appreciate that this was really a close group. I had slipped off my shoes under the table, and was running my foot discretely up and down Cary's leg. He responded by stroking my knee and thigh.

I knew he was testing the water, so I told him what he wanted to know by glancing over and winking quickly at him. He smiled and moved his hand a couple more inches up my leg. I raised my eyebrows and gave him a coy smile. He squeezed and stroked my leg. Glancing around the table, I suspected that similar things were going on between some of the others as well. Conversation and leg rubbing continued, and Cary's hand moved further up the slit in my dress, until his hand was all the way up. He smiled at me when he touched the rapidly growing damp spot in my pantyhose, and I pushed my hips forward into his touch. My hand found his lap and I started exploring the territory.

Cary was squeezing the highest part of my inner thigh, with the side of his hand pressing hard against the source of the wetness we both could feel. I pressed back against his hand with a subtle rhythmic movement of my pelvis. Meanwhile, I had found something to hold onto myself. Even through his clothing I could feel a throbbing under my touch. I squeezed and ran my hand up and down, getting familiar with the size, shape and firmness of what I had found. He spread his legs, encouraging me to keep it up. So to speak. He was moving his fingers all over under my dress, tracing up and down the wet crevice that I knew he could feel through my panty hose, which were clinging wetly to my skin.

We tantalized each other like this for awhile, but finally I had to call time-out. I had to pee, and with all that was happening, an accident was a real possibility. So, cursing my bad timing, I excused myself and went to the rest room. My pantyhose were so wet by this time that I took them off and stuffed them in my purse. My legs were tan enough that most people wouldn't notice the difference. But Cary would. Returning to the table, I dragged Cary out to the dance floor for a couple of songs, feeling a deep tingle of excitement knowing that I was naked under my dress. The next dance was a slow one, and Cary danced close--so close I could feel his solid presence against my waist. As the song ended, he kissed me, then led me back to the table. We resumed our positions close against one another and sipped our drinks. Then I felt his hand again slip under my skirt. He looked at me with surprise when he touched bare skin. I gave him a smile, teasing with my eyes, then I slowly licked my lips in a meaningful way. My hand dropped back into his lap.

I found him hard and big. Excitingly big. As I gently stroked him through his clothing, his hand worked gradually up my bare leg until I could feel him brush against my hair, causing me to draw a sharp breath. Then he ran his hand up and down over the entire hair-covered area, his fingers exploring every detail. His middle finger found my most guarded place and easily slipped inside me. I spread my legs more and flashed him a wicked smile as I found the tab on his zipper. He worked his finger in and out of me as I pulled his zipper down and slipped my hand into his pants, feeling around for the opening in his shorts. Reaching through the opening, I found what I was after and, with some manipulation, managed to pull it out where I could stroke and caress the velvety soft tip. He smiled. A lot.

I knew that we were pushing beyond the limits of propriety. I idly stirred my drink with my finger while someone across the table told a bawdy story. Then I put my fingers in my mouth as if to lick the alcohol off, but actually to get them wet with saliva, which in turn made that velvet skin slippery and more sensitive to my touch. Trying to be subtle, I quickly licked my fingers again and hurried my hand back under the table. Meanwhile, Cary was feeling deep inside me, working me into a near frenzy. I tried to act calm as his finger slid in and out, sometimes sliding up and caressing the sensitive spot that made me gasp whenever he touched it. He pressed hard and rubbed a tiny circle, and my whole body suddenly jerked. With no control, I threw my head back and closed my eyes while Cary continued to rub, and convulsions wracked my body, once, twice, three times. Biting my lip I struggled to keep from crying out, and tried to suppress the contractions that had seized me. Gaining a measure of control, I opened my eyes. Across the table, the woman named Donna was looking curiously at me. The best I could do was to pretend that I had hiccups, patting my chest and swallowing hard.

"Hiccups," I gasped as I reached for my glass and took a gulp. "Try holding your breath," suggested Donna's partner, Bruce. "Or crossing your legs," mumbled Donna. But if anyone understood her quip, they showed no sign, and the chatter went on as if nothing had happened. The guys had started talking about cars and racing. One guy, Danny, was a racer. He drove a Thunderbird in the Winston Cup Series, and just a month before, he had finished in the top ten at Daytona.

"Hey," he suggested, "Why don't we all go over to my place and I'll show you my latest toy." "I thought Laura was your latest toy," Bruce jabbed, referring to Danny's date. Laura glared at him in mock indignation and protested, "No, Danny would cast me aside in an instant if someone offered him a way to get two more horsepower out of his engine." "Yeah," Danny admitted, "but I'd win a lot of races." Everyone chuckled, and Danny repeated his invitation, explaining that his new toy was a blue '67 Dodge with number 43 painted on the doors. It was the car that Richard Petty had driven to one of his five victories at the Daytona 500, perfectly restored to original condition. The guys all wanted to go, and Laura offered to make drinks, so we started gathering our things, paying our tab and getting directions to Danny's place. Cary discretely tucked himself in and pulled up his zipper. On my left, Julie was pulling her skirt down and her date, Terry, was doing something I couldn't see below the table. So I wasn't the only one. Danny lived in a two-story brick faced house with lots of land enclosed in white board fencing. His five car garage was almost as big as the house. When I got there, closely following Cary's Lexus, Danny already had the door open and the lights on. Soon we were all gathered around one of the most famous cars in racing history.

After a while we all migrated to the sunken living room that overlooked a huge patio, with Mt. Ranier visible in the moonlight beyond. Sitting in pairs, we sipped at the small glasses of Bailey's that Laura had brought us. Looking out to the patio, Terry asked, "Hey Danny, how many people does your hot tub hold?" Glancing quickly around the room, Danny said, "Eight. No more, no less." "What a coincidence," Donna observed. "Exactly the number in this room. "It looks kind of small for eight," Bruce noted. Danny smiled wryly and answered, "You just have to squeeze together." Then he motioned to an adjoining room. "There are some robes and towels in there. I'll go round up a couple more." Couples around the room looked at each other. I looked at Cary, and he nodded with a question look on his face. If it was okay with me it was okay with him. Donna and Bruce were on their feet heading for the other room, so I rose and held out my hand to Cary. We followed Donna and Bruce, and I heard others following us into the next room. One wall was glass, with patio doors leading outside, and another wall was all cedar, with a heavy door in the middle. The sauna. Another wall had a row of open-front lockers, with clothes hangers and shelves. Each contained a terry cloth robe in colors to match Danny's race car, photos of which were all over the walls.

"Well," Cary commented, "This is quite a deal." I heard someone else agree. There was a brief uncomfortable moment while everyone tried to figure out what came next. Danny came in with more robes and towels, and said, "You can change here, or in the bathroom, if you're ashamed of your body." He motioned to his right. We all chuckled self-consciously, but nobody made a move toward the bathroom. Cary took off his jacket and put it on a hanger in the nearest locker. Everyone else started undressing, making idle chitchat to camouflage the clumsiness of the moment. I was especially self-conscious because of my little underwear shortage. All I could do was pull off my dress and bra quickly and hope that nobody would notice. I caught Cary giving me an appreciative appraisal as I slipped into my robe. When I turned to go outside, I caught everyone else in the room still undressing, in varying stages of nakedness. "That was quick," Terry commented as he hung up his shirt. "I think she had a head start," Julie teased. I guess she had noticed. Oh, well. It was cool outside, where Danny had just finished pulling the cover off the spa. He pulled the thermometer and checked the temperature. It seemed to meet his approval, and he dropped it back into the water. He pressed a couple of buttons and the pumps roared to life, whipping the water into a churning white froth.

"Ready to go," Danny said as he headed back to the house to change. I tossed off my robe and stepped down into the steaming water. I lowered myself down to the seat, feeling the hot water swirl around and envelop my body. Sitting with my back to the house, I heard someone approaching, so I scooted around to the other side where I could see people coming. I hadn't even thought about what would be standard etiquette around the hot tub, but I found myself seated where I would see everyone step into the tub. I hadn't planned it that way, but there I was, watching as Terry tossed his robe and towel onto a bench and walk toward me without a trace of modesty. Not bad, I thought.

Next out was Julie, whose long red curls cascaded around her shoulders as she peeled off her robe. I wished I could have hair like hers; but I noticed with a measure of consolation that her breasts were much smaller than mine. It was obvious that she was a natural redhead. Bruce and Donna came out together, and being a gentleman, Bruce helped Donna out of her robe. Donna had her hair cut short--in both places--and she was very slim. She was a definite A cup, but her little breasts seemed just right for her. I thought she was actually pretty damn sexy. Bruce came in behind her, stepping over next to me. For a moment his genitals were close to my face, half hard and standing out from his body. I watched him lower himself into the water beside me. Cary put his robe on the bench and turned toward the tub. I looked him up and down, giving him a suggestive smile. I meant it, too. There was no sign of fat on his body, and he had the physique of a college basketball player. I already knew that he had played for the University of Washington back in the early 80's. I watched his pendulum swing from side to side as he walked toward the spa. He took a seat between me and Julie. I scooted over to make room, and felt my hip and thigh touch Bruce's. Laura brought a tray of fresh drinks and passed them around before slipping out of her robe. Terry whistled, and Laura struck a centerfold pose for a moment before strolling toward us in an exaggerated "runway" walk. She was gorgeous. Her long hair was thick and blonde, and it tumbled down her back and around her shoulders. She had firm, full breasts (possibly silicone, I speculated) that stood out and jiggled when she walked. I couldn't tell if she was a natural blonde. She was as smooth as a baby, without a trace of hair on her body.

Danny caught up with Laura at the edge of the spa, and everyone crowded together to make room for them directly opposite Cary and me. We were all pressed tightly against each other, and I commented that the spa was "pretty cozy" with all eight of us in it. Danny winked and chuckled, "That's the whole idea, Sweetheart." In fact, it was so crowded that I was having trouble figuring out what to do with my hands. So were some of the others. At first I put my hands on my knees, then I tried folding them across my chest. That wasn't very comfortable either. The guys were tall enough to drape their arms across the top of the tub, but I was too short. So were the other women.

I finally just let my left hand drop down into Cary's lap. His legs were together, of course, but I found something to hold onto. He smiled and scooted forward a couple of inches on the seat, letting me feel, explore, and enjoy the sensation of causing him to quickly swell to twice his normal size. Wow! It was even better than I had thought!

At that moment, I felt Bruce scoot forward, exactly as Cary had done. I was sure that it was for the same reason. His left leg was against me, and I felt him move, ever so subtly, caressing my leg with his, just like I was doing to Cary on my other side. My right hand was under water already, so I reached over to Bruce's thigh, thinking my hand would stop the motion of his leg. But it didn't. If anything, he increased it, and for an instant, I felt his hand touch the back of my neck. Bruce was hitting on me! I squeezed Cary and ran my hand up and down his full length, getting hornier by the second. Cary put his arm around my neck and reached down to cup my breast. I felt him stroke my nipple and I leaned toward him to lay my head against his shoulder. I was becoming very hot, and it wasn't just because of the water.

Looking around, it appeared to me that everyone in the tub was doing exactly the same things. Bruce shifted a little bit more, and something touched my hand, which had remained on his thigh. In an instant I knew that it was Donna's hand, and my first reaction was to pull my hand away, but Donna was quicker, taking hold of my fingers, gently squeezing. I relaxed as she put my hand back on Bruce's leg, covering my hand with hers. With Bruce between us, I couldn't see Donna's face as she continued to caress my hand, coaxing me to caress Bruce's thigh.

The thrill of it was almost overwhelming. I was feeling Cary's towering erection while he fondled my breast and teased my nipple, all the while feeling another man's leg tight against mine and realizing that Donna was ever so slowly moving our hands together up toward Bruce's lap. When at last she put my hand on his erection, I felt him press upward. I gripped him exactly as I had Cary. Donna's hand was still around mine, and she squeezed tightly as she started a stroking motion. I found myself stroking both men in unison, wishing more and more for something to take care of me. "Are all you girls holding hands now?" Bruce asked, and I suddenly realized that some of the people in the spa might have done this before. That's when Julie's hand found mine, and stroked it for a moment before sliding down and finding room below mine on Cary's hard shaft. We both started moving in unison. I could see that Laura, across from me, had both hands working, and I could see Danny and Terry at her sides both lean back and close their eyes.

Suddenly the pumps stopped and as the bubbles rose to the surface, the water started to become clear. I could see Julies's breasts, and I could see her hands--and those of Donna and Laura as well--all moving up and down in the same rhythm as mine. The water started to slosh up and down with the motion, and the waves started hitting me in the face. "We'd better get out of this before we drown ourselves," Terry said. "I don't care if I drown," Bruce answered. "This is how I want to go." Then Laura spoke up, "Well, I think it's just about time for you studs to start earning your keep! Come on!" She boosted herself up onto the edge of the tub so that only her feet were in the water. Terry joined her, then Donna and everyone else. Steam rose from our naked bodies in the cool night air. Danny reached back and scooped up an arm load of towels and tossed them to everyone. I dried my face and patted at my hair where it had been dangling in the water. Danny spread his towel on the cedar decking behind him, and some of the others started to follow his lead. By the time I finished my own towel, having turned toward Cary to do so, I felt Bruce's hands on my legs, pulling them up from the spa onto the towels, which by then formed a continuous ring around the spa.

I looked quickly in his direction and saw that he was already out of the tub, and Donna was holding onto him and swinging her legs up. As she did, she rolled Bruce onto his back and put her face against his hip. As she kissed him, he rolled onto his back, and Donna drew the tip of his still hard penis to her lips. I felt a hand move up my leg and press into the damp hair at the top, and at the same time I felt Cary's knee touch my cheek. Bruce was squeezing and caressing me, much as I had been doing to him only a few minutes before. His hands moved down my legs, and I felt him trying to roll me over. He was face up, and he wanted me face down. I complied, and he pulled me quickly down onto his mouth. I reached for Cary, finding his hips and groping for his erection. He had been on his side, facing away from me, but he quickly rolled onto his back.

Bruce ran his tongue up through the wetness between my legs. His hands stroked my bottom. Reflexively, I pressed my hips firmly against him. Cary shuddered as I touched him and pulled him to my lips. I looked up and caught a smile from Cary just before Julie threw a leg over him and pressed her auburn bush into his mouth. I could see Julie's head bobbing up and down, her long curls bouncing in the air. Bruce ran his hands up my sides and I felt him grope for my breasts. Finding them, he massaged my nipples into hardness, while licking my snatch in deep wet strokes. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my pulse was pounding in my ears. I pivoted my hips forward, and felt his tongue find my vagina. I wriggled down, trying to get him to lick deeper into me. The things Bruce was doing made me tighten my grip on Cary's huge, hard cock. "Oooh," I said as I felt a tongue running slowly up through the deep wet folds and touching the swollen, sensitive little nub at the top. I was running my lips and tongue all over the puffy, soft pink head of Cary's erection, and I felt him jerk and quiver each time I touched the area just beneath the tiny slit, which was glistening with a fat drop of crystal clear liquid. It was warm and had a light, delicate flavor. I knew that Cary had found Julie's breasts, just as Bruce had found mine. I watched Julie's hips working furiously against Cary's mouth. Her legs were spread wide, and I could see her vagina gaping open, with Cary's tongue darting up and down.

I stole a look around, and saw that the ring was complete and everyone was doing one person while being done by someone else. Never, in my wildest daydreams had I ever envisioned myself in a situation like this! Oh, I sometimes had fantasies about having sex in a room with other couples, or even having sex with two men at once, but this was beyond my imagination. Then I heard a loud groan as somebody on the other side of the spa reached his limit. I started pumping my mouth and my hands up and down Cary's shaft, faster and faster. I heard Julie cry out and watched as she started twitching and thrashing. Cary grabbed her by the hips and pulled her down against his face.

My mouth was full, so the sounds I made stayed deep in my throat as I felt myself building toward the

explosion that I knew was imminent. Cary was thrusting upward into my mouth, and I had to hold him tightly to keep him from going too far and choking me. My hands felt a sudden throbbing course through him, and I felt his whole body arch up beneath me. I squeezed him hard and pulled up, teasing his tip, and at the instant I felt the sudden burst of pressure in my hand, I plunged my mouth down accepting his hot, gushing eruption deep in my throat. He cried out as I continued pumping him into my mouth, gulping one shot after another, until he started to subside. Still I pumped, and he shook and quivered under me, finally running dry. The "domino effect" was in full force, and all around the circle there were groans and cries and other sounds of satisfaction. I felt myself let go into Bruce's mouth, and my whole body shook as the tingling sensation radiated out from the center of my pleasure. He pressed his face against me and sucked my clit into his mouth, teasing with his tongue as I continued coming, over and over. Gradually, things settled down all around the circle, and one by one, people sat up, some sipping their drinks while others continued fondling each other. Cary whispered in my ear something very complimentary about the job I had done. I said I was just returning the favor, referring to what he had done at the bar. I pulled a robe up over my shoulders as the night chill began seeping through my euphoric warmth.

Some couples got back in the spa, but Cary and I went inside to check out the sauna. We spilled a bit of water onto the heater, watching a cloud of steam rise. Dropping our robes, we sat down on the cedar bench and leaned back. The door opened and Laura and Danny came in. They too got naked and sat down. Big drops of sweat started forming on our bodies and faces, making everyone glisten. Danny lit a candle and switched the lights off. It created a whole different atmosphere, one of softness and subtlety. I bent forward and let Cary massage my shoulders and neck, and it felt wonderful. I leaned aside and rolled onto my front, feeling strong hands run up and down my back, stroking and squeezing. He massaged my bottom and my thighs, and I felt the familiar warmth building again. Changing places, I massaged Cary's back, feeling and admiring his muscles. His butt was firm under my touch, and I reached between his thighs and scooped what I found there into my hand. The skin was very loose, and I could feel the two large egg-shaped glands within as I gently squeezed and kneaded with my fingers. They filled my hand and felt heavy.

In the candle light I could see that he was beginning to harden. I kept massaging his back and legs, until he finally rolled onto his back. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the light covering of soft hair, rubbing his nipples and watching his erection grow. I bent forward and kissed his mouth, while running a hand gently up and down his shaft. I needed to get it inside me! I climbed up and straddled him, positioning myself over that huge, thick post. I reached down and held him while I lowered myself until we touched. Wriggling around, I positioned myself just right, so that his tip was just barely pressing into me. I held that position, making a stirring motion that opened me up wide for what was about to happen.

Cary closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as I lowered myself slowly onto him. I was thoroughly wet inside, and I slid down smoothly, feeling his size and hardness stretching me to my limit. When at last I hit bottom, I felt a fullness inside me that I had never felt before. My body shuddered as I raised myself back up, sliding up until only his tip remained in me. Then I slid slowly back down, feeling Cary press upward as I struck bottom again. His hands closed over my breasts as I started moving up and down in a slow rhythm. His fingers encircled my nipples, softly pinching them to hardness. I savored the delicious feeling of his hard flesh inside me, and as I started moving faster, the penetration seemed deeper. At the end of each downward stroke my clit slammed against him, sending shock waves throughout my body. Pausing for a moment with him deep inside me, I put my arms over my head and thrust my chest forward as Cary cupped my breasts. Oh, if I could only describe the feeling! It was show time. I started bouncing up and down with increased urgency. Up and down, up and down, I moved in at frenzied, furious pace, desperate to finish it. I was starting to come, and each time I crashed down I felt myself quake with pleasure. Again and again and again. I needed to finish him!

Beads of sweat rolled down my body and dropped on Cary as I kept riding him and coming. I knew that Danny and Laura were watching, but I didn't care! I just had to finish it. Then I felt Cary swell up within me, and as I plunged down he let go and flooded me with a sudden burst of warmth. I paused my motion and felt him repeatedly throb and gush until I felt full. Resuming my motion, I coaxed more spurts from him, and felt fluids flushing from myself with each stroke. Gradually, his body became still, and I could feel him starting to go soft as I ceased moving and leaned down to lay on his chest, gasping for breath. I lay like that with my eyes closed for several minutes, while becoming aware of increasing activity on the other side of the sauna. I looked over to see Laura riding Danny just as I had done to Cary. Her firm, round breasts stood out, nipples erect, bouncing with her motion. Her hair streamed down her back as she tilted her head up. Danny clutched her hips and pulled her down hard on each stroke. I kept watching until at last Danny gasped and unloaded. Laura kept riding, and finally finished herself, crying "Oh, oh, oh, ooooh."

After a while, Cary and I went and shared a long shower. It was after 3:00 when we said our goodbyes and headed to our cars. Cary paused to kiss me, and I thanked him for a wonderful, exciting evening. Then I drove home, still feeling the warm glow of pleasure throughout my body. The feeling lasted for days afterward, and I wondered how much of it had to do with Cary specifically and how much was from the excitement of doing it as a group. I began fantasizing about different things we might do the next time we all got together, as I knew we would. I talked on the phone with Cary, and he told me that he had been to similar parties at Danny's place and elsewhere. He knew that not everybody liked to do the group thing, and he was happy to know that I did and wanted to do it again.

The next Friday I went to another bar for some more "Social Mixing," and surprised myself by letting another member pick me up. I saw some of the others from the week before, and they came over to chat a bit, but things shaped up completely different that night. Cary came by, and I felt a flash of shame for being with someone else, but when he had a chance to ask me to dance, he reassured me that it was fine. We shared great sex and probably would again, but we didn't own each other. I could see that he meant it, and felt better about the whole thing. My partner of the evening was a car dealer named Roger. I remembered having seen him in his TV commercials, offering good deals and easy financing. After a while, we went out and took his high performance Italian sports car for a zip around town. And I do mean "zip!" We spent the night at his place, a twelfth-floor condo in a downtown high-rise. We had talked about some of the club's activities, and decided to sign up for a week of Spring skiing at Whistler-Black Comb in British Columbia. Everything about it was magnificent. The skiing, the resort, the meals. It was all wonderful. Oh, and so was the sex.

Well, I've been a member of E&A for over three years now, and I've participated in dozens of club activities, dated dozens of different men, nearly all of whom were worth sleeping with, and have remained a "regular" in the group trysts with Danny and Laura. I find that my greatest satisfaction always comes in the group orgies, as I have now come to think of them. And orgies is what they are sometimes! It still surprises me how easy it is to get carried away when things start getting hot. Earlier I said that I had fantasized about having two men at once. How about FOUR! I really did that, just last month. Things were heating up on Danny's living room floor, I was doing a Lewinsky on Cary when I saw an open invitation to broaden my horizons. Terry was lying naked on his back with Julie sitting on his face. His erection was up for grabs. I dragged Cary with me and saddled up for a ride on Terry, facing toward his feet.

About the time that Julie reached her climax, I heard a comment from somewhere about the "Terry and Cary Show," and how hot Krista was. Danny came over and started fondling my breasts. I was going into an uncontrolled frenzy. I reclined on top of Terry while he continued to screw me, and brought Cary down where I could jerk him off and rub him on my breasts. Danny knelt down between my legs, straddling Terry and started rubbing his cock against my clit. "I want both of you in me," I begged, "both at the same time!" Terry stopped moving, and I felt Danny start pressing against me. He pushed hard, and I experienced a wonderful kind of pain as stretched me open and forcing his way in. "Oh, God!" I cried, "Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me!" And they did. It took a couple of trys before all three of us figured out how to move in unison, but once we got started, it was a spectacular feeling. With two men in my snatch, I pulled Cary to my lips and let him start fucking my mouth. I guess that Bruce was feeling left out, because he came over and put my free hand on his cock.

So there I was, doing four guys at once. Well, actually, I was doing one and three were doing me. I concentrate on giving Bruce the best hand job I could while Danny and Terry worked together in my snatch. I kept a hand on Cary and sucked on him while he hovered sideways over my face, pumping in and out of my mouth. He came first, filling my mouth with an enormous burst of hot fluid. He kept coming, faster than I could gulp it down, and overflow ran down my cheeks. As soon as Cary was drained, I pushed him aside and pulled Bruce into his place, driven to taste his cum. It didn't take long. He fucked my mouth, faster and faster until I felt a sudden swelling and a hot flood as he thrust in. I gagged, causing a reflexive contraction in my vagina which in turn cause one or both of the guys in there to unload.

I'm not sure of exactly what happened in that chaotic moment, but there was a lot of groaning and grunting, and I felt myself being pumped full in all directions. After a few delirious moments, the guys one by one withdrew, leaving me panting and spent on the floor. Donna handed me a towel. "Congratulations!" called Laura. "But now what are WE supposed to do?" she asked, motioning to Donna. "Oh, God, I can't do you too!" I said as I finished wiping my face. Donna, with that thin, fragile looking body that I had always found so intriguingly sexy was within reach, and I stroked her leg. She looked into my eyes then took the towel from me and started wiping my wet crotch. I reached toward Donna's crotch and found it wet all around. It wasn't the first time I had touched another woman, but was the first time I had actually felt lustful about it. Suddenly Donna seemed irresistible, and I reached over and stroked her tiny breasts, feeling their firmness and caressing the hard nipples. I sat up and kissed her nipples, sucking them to fullness, as I reached between her legs and ran my hand over the short, dark hair and the thick line of soft pink flesh that was protruding far in front of her. I pressed my fingers into her deep, wet crack, feeling around her opening then making a slow upward stroke. I felt her clit, hard and very big. Surprisingly big. Donna reclined onto the floor, while I fingered her and kissed her breasts.

I pushed her legs apart and went down. First, I just passed above her, letting her feel my breath on her snatch, then I made a second pass, letting my lips touch lightly against the protruding softness. Her hips rose beneath me, and she pressed against my mouth. I sucked the soft flesh and felt a finger of hardness develop between my lips. My God! Her clit was like a small penis! I heard her gasp, and I started working my mouth on her as if she were a man. Feeling my own level of arousal build, I squeezed Donna's nipples and pumped my mouth up and down in rapid, short strokes, feeling her swell to startling hardness. I was on my knees between Donna's legs, burying my face in her well-trimmed bush, with my bottom in the air; and I could feel the others exploring me with their eyes. And that only made me get hotter. I felt Laura step up behind me and reach under and cup my breasts. I squeezed Donna's nipples as Laura squeezed mine, and I continued sucking Donna's amazing erection. Donna screamed in passion as she reach her orgasm. She thrust her hips upward, fucking my mouth with her miniature hard-on, shaking and crying out.

At last she collapsed on the floor and lay still, and I sat back on my heels as Laura stepped around in front of me. I was looking straight at her baby-like, hairless snatch. She was so different from Donna that they might as well have been different sexes. I ran my hands over the smooth mound, feeling no trace of hair or stubble. She stepped sideways, spreading her legs in front of me, and I ran my fingers down the V of her crotch. I cupped my hand under her, pressing my finger up and finding her vagina, wet and loose. I pushed two fingers in, and Laura moaned. She spread her legs wider and put her hands on my shoulders as I worked my two fingers in and out. "More," I heard her whisper, "More!" I pulled back and probed her with three fingers, and she wriggled around as I pressed upward. She cried out and I pulled back again. "No," she begged, "Don't stop! Push it in! All of it, push!" I tentatively pressed my three fingers in, then pushed. "Harder," she cried, "Harder!" I pushed harder, and my fourth finger started sliding in. I felt her shift a bit and there was less resistance and I slid quickly all the way to my thumb. Pressing my thumb into her slit, I massaged her clit, which seemed tiny after Donna's. "Oh, God, more! Don't stop," she cried, "Give me more!" I pulled back then pushed back up, this time with my thumb tightly against my index finger. With four fingers in, my thumb came against her and I pushed. Laura spread her legs even further apart and arched toward me. "Ooooh, Ooooh, YES!" she cried. I thought that it must be painful, but she wanted me to do it, so I pushed hard. Very hard, and with a sudden pop, my entire hand disappeared into her! She groaned loudly. "YES! YES! YES!"

I started twisting my wrist around, feeling inside her, and even though I have pretty small hands, I was amazed that I could do what I had done! Laura moaned with pleasure as I started pumping my arm up and down, never pulling my hand out, but stroking within her. She was so stretched that her little clit was sticking out next to my wrist, pointing toward the floor. I wet my finger and massaged her clit, while moving my hand around deep inside her. She pulled my face against her belly and cried for more. I pumped her faster, feeling her loosen up as I did. There was something running down my wrist, and Laura was humping against my face, begging me do go faster. Then I felt a flash of heat around my hand, and for an instant I feared that something had ruptured. Laura let out a long, loud moan, and started shaking and quivering. "Oh, yes!" she cried, "God, yes, yes!" Then she went limp and slumped down, forcing me even further in. She hung there for a few long seconds, then with a deep sigh, she stood up, pulling away. My hand slid easily from her. "One more time," She begged.

So I pushed back up, this time sliding in with relative ease. Laura gasped, and I knew she was finished. I slid slowly out of her and pulled my face back. Her perfect snatch looked like it was inside out, with pink flaps hanging loosely from her smooth, hairless crack. She dropped to the floor next to me and whispered something, then lay on her back with her knees up and legs apart. Her breathing slowed down, and as I watched, her pussy began shrinking back to normal. After a few more minutes, she again looked like a baby. I was exhausted. Someone brought me a beer, and I gulped it down. I'm not sure who was the star of the show, Laura or me. Some of us went out to the spa, and I sat back, looking up at the stars trying to remember what had motivated me to do such things! And it worried me that I had enjoyed it all. That, Doctor Phillips, is why I'm here.

Physician's Note: Krista received therapy for over a year, during which time she engaged in several more orgies of the type described above. In the end, however, she came to understand that what had made it so exciting for her was the bold adventure of it all. She learned that it was never as thrilling the second time. With therapy Krista learned that emotional attachment was what made sexual excitement last. For the past six months, she has been in a monogamous relationship and all signs are that it will last. She and Donna are deeply committed to each other.

House Calls

Today, if your TV goes out, you junk it and buy a new one. But there was a time when you would take the old set to a shop or call the repairman. And in those days, the worst news you could get was "You need a new picture tube." If you remember those days, then you'll understand my story. The normal price for a black-and-white picture tube was $49.95 plus installation. Usually about $75.00 total--big bucks in the early '60s. But I found a place in town that was in the business of re-manufacturing picture tubes, and their wholesale price was $14.95--just $12.95 for a factory second. I never could figure out what made it a factory second, because they always worked perfectly. In that was born the business that put me through college. I got an old Cushman 3-wheel scooter--a meter maid rig--and put an ad in the newspaper every week: "Picture Tube Replacement $39.95 installed, most sets, your home." I got myself a tube tester, volt meter and test pattern generator and went to work. I did half a dozen sets a week, and made more money replacing chassis tubes than picture tubes.

It was good money, and easy work. It also put me into some very interesting situations. I went out one afternoon to fix a big Sylvania console. I pushed the set out from the wall and popped the back off. A quick glance at the tail of the picture tube showed that the filament was cold, so I told the lady that she definitely needed a new tube. I could pick one up and be back the next morning. I checked all of the chassis tubes and found (as I usually did) three or four that needed to be replaced. I quoted her a total price of about $70 or $80, then went on to my next service call. The next day, when I returned with the new tube, I noticed for the first time that the lady was actually quite attractive for someone twice my age. I guess she hadn't been wearing any makeup the day before, but today she was dressed up to go out somewhere. When I addressed her as "Mrs. Johnson," she told me to just call her "Carla."

It took half an hour to tear out the old tube and install the new one. I turned it on and made some quick adjustments on the deflection magnets, and the old set looked pretty good. I hooked up my pattern generator, then propped up a mirror in front of the set and started turning little screws to bring the picture into perfect shape.

Carla watched with interest and commented how good it was looking and what a genius I must be to know how to do all of this. I smiled and told her I'd been fooling with radios and television since I was in sixth grade. When I looked up, I saw that she had uncrossed her legs and I could see right up her skirt. Her panties were white. She caught my glance and said, "oops," and recrossed her legs. In the process, her skirt rode up high on her legs, and she smiled warmly. I think my eyebrows went up momentarily as I looked back to the mirror. A couple more adjustments and I'd be done. Carla said she was going to get herself a cup of coffee and asked if I wanted one.

I was putting the back on the set when she came in with the coffee. She came over and stopped with her knee very close to my face and put the coffee on top of the TV set. I looked up to thank her and saw how her breasts pushed her sweater out. She smiled down and tossed her head, making her breasts jiggle. Her leg touched my cheek, and she held it there. And just kept smiling at me. She put her coffee next to mine, then placed her palms on her ribs just beneath her breasts, and ran them slowly down over her hips, as if smoothing her sweater. When she ran her hands back up, she cupped her breasts for a moment before running her hands back down. This time they came together and went down the front of her skirt, and I watched with fascination as she pressed her fingers between her legs.

Not knowing what she expected of me, I ran a hand up her the inside of her leg to where her knee was touching my face. She bent down slightly and covered my hand with hers and guided it up, raising her skirt as she did. The dark band at the top of her nylons came into view, then the bare, white skin above. She led my hand to the top of her nylon and pressed my thumb inside it. I turned toward her, and with both hands, I drew her nylon slowly down her leg, removing her shoe when I came to it. She stepped down, then offered her other leg.

I ran both hands slowly up her leg, then slowly stripped off her other nylon and shoe. Standing barefoot now, her white panties were now at my eye level. She raised her skirt to demonstrate that fact. When I slid my hands back up her legs, she arched forward and pressed against my face. I could smell the faint perfume of her femininity as my hands cupped her fanny and pulled her to me. She reached under her skirt and tugged her panties down past her hips and onto her thighs. Her dark brown, full bush was right in my face as I took over and finished drawing her panties to her ankles. I burrowed my face in until I felt wet, soft flesh against my lips, and she put her hands behind my head and pulled me firmly to herself.

Pushing the coffee cups aside and knocking the antenna to the floor, Carla scooted herself onto the top of the console, where she could spread her legs in front of me. My jeans were uncomfortably tight, and I had to make a quick adjustment before something broke. Then I ran my hands up her thighs until my fingers touched hair and then found the hot dampness in the middle. I caressed and spread her open, exploring the deep pink ridges, folds and valleys.

I heard her draw a sharp breath as I ran my fingers to the top of her pink cleavage. With one smooth motion, she pulled her sweater off over her head, dropping it to the floor beside me. Then she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. As the bra fell away, her full breasts stood swaying above me. She pulled my face into her crotch, and I reached up and touched her breasts. They were firm, and warm to my touch. I found her nipples and as I touched them, they jumped up to meet my fingers. While I explored her with my tongue, she put her hands over mine and coaxed me to massage her breasts and nipples. I tasted her sweetness felt and her fluid warmth on my face. When my tongue touched the tiny bump hidden deep in her wet crevice, I felt her shake and shudder, and I heard her cry out.

She arched up and pushed my face forcefully into her lap, and continued moaning and crying out incomprehensibly. Her body was shaking and heaving, and her legs came up over my shoulders and locked behind my neck. I was suffocating when she finally released me and dropped to the floor beside me. I felt embarrassed and awkward with my face all wet and hairs in my mouth, but she pulled me to herself and kissed me deeply, as though savoring the taste of her own sex. And indeed she was as she kissed all of the wetness from around my mouth and pressed her tongue against mine. Her hands had found my belt and were fumbling to unfasten it. I started unbuttoning my shirt while Carla frantically pulled at the snap and zipper on my jeans. Coaxing me to stand, she slipped off my shoes and socks, then pulled my jeans down to my feet. I stepped out of my jeans and shrugged off my shirt as Carla pulled my shorts down.

I stood like that for a moment while she wriggled out of her skirt, then she reached up and grabbed my cock. I was so excited that it was almost painful. She lay back as she gently pulled me down. She guided me straight into her, arching up as I pushed easily into her. She gasped and grabbed my hips and pulled hard. I felt her move and squirm beneath me and her hot wetness enveloped me completely. Frantically, she started pushing and pulling on my hips, working me in and out of herself. I broke her rhythm when I lay forward onto her breasts and kissed her with deep passion. She moaned quietly as I worked my hips, pulling slowly out of her until I was barely touching, then pushing slowly back in, feeling the wonderful liquid heat swallow me.

Repeating the slow motion, I knew I was teasing her. She wanted me to hammer her, fast and hard, but I tantalized her with long, slow strokes. She tried to thrust her hips and satisfy her burning need to fuck, but my weight prevented her from moving. I teased until I knew she was ready to explode, then I started stroking faster.

I raised up so that only our hips were in contact, then pulled back and plunged forward, slamming hard against her as I penetrated deeply. I did it again, making her gasp as I plunged in. We were both in a frenzy now, and I stroked faster and faster. We moved in perfect unison smacking together then pulling all the way apart, then coming back together. With each stroke I was pumping air into her, causing wet farting noises as the air escaped. We both giggled, but kept screwing wildly. She started twitching each time I came down against her, then the twitching developed into shaking that got more and more violent. I felt the pressure building up in me, becoming irresistibly strong. Carla arched up as I plunged down and with an explosion I came deep inside her. Her stomach contracted violently as I pumped hot fluid into her. I kept pumping until I was spent. Carla lay beneath me, smiling. I didn't know what to say. It all seemed to have happened so fast that I hadn't had time to think what I was doing. When we finally sat up, she asked if I'd like a new cup of coffee. Without dressing, she went to the kitchen and came back with two steaming mugs. We sat naked, sipping coffee and admiring what a good picture her TV had. I kept doing in-home service throughout college, and even after I was out of school with a real job. And from time to time, I would encounter another sex-starved housewife. I learned to recognize the signs and respond to them in a way that moved things along. Occasionally, a woman would offer to pay the bill that way.

It was a good business all the way around, but as more and more people bought new color TV's, my business dried up. In the end, I stopped running my ad and retired from TV service. Well, I do understand why some men want to be plumbers.

Author's Postscript

So those are some of my favorite stories. I may add some more to this in the future, if there seems to be a demand for my rather drawn out style of writing. Let me know. And one more thing. Now that you've read these stories, I will tell you that I am the main character in one of them. Go ahead and take your guess--and tell me why you think so.

P.I.P.

Copyright 1999

All rights reserved

pipprint@pop.flash.net





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