It's An Open House Part 11

"Yes," she answered, looking up at me seductively. I'm not sure she was aware of how lovely she looked, or the effect she was having on me, and not just physically.

I placed my other hand underneath her chin and gently tilted her head back to where I could kiss her comfortably. At first I was only going to kiss her lightly on her lips, but once I placed my lips on her and felt her lips part, I slid my tongue in her sweet mouth, feeling her tongue gently caress my own. I felt the vibration of a moan and the pressure of her breast as she leaned into me, pressing her chest against mine. I don't know how long we stayed locked in this pa.s.sionate kiss, but when we finally parted, we were both winded.

After I caught my breath, I took hold of Wylene's hands, those hands that I ached to feel roaming over my body, and led her to the entrance to the swimming pool for the little cover it provided. The pool was closed on Sunday, but it wasn't water I was interested in diving in. I was interested in diving my tongue as deep as I could between the legs of this beautiful woman.

I placed Wylene's back against the wall and leaned down to give her another kiss. Those voluptuous lips parted readily to admit my tongue into her mouth, and I couldn't help but wonder if those lips would part just as willingly to admit my d.i.c.k. I let my hands slide down Wylene's backside until I had her round a.s.s in my hands. I kneaded the moons of her a.s.s gently but firmly.

She pushed off of the wall and then wrapped her arms around my neck. When she leaned into me this time, she felt the giant bulge in my pants. I heard and felt another moan escape Wylene's throat, and I wanted so badly to f.u.c.k her then and there. But I restrained myself. I broke our embrace and dropped to my knees. I started pus.h.i.+ng her dress up around her waist, until I caught the scent of her aroused p.u.s.s.y and the sight of her flower-print panties.

Wylene held her dress up while I pulled her moist panties off, uncovering her hairy crotch with its honey-coated p.u.s.s.y lips. I kissed the inside of those luscious thighs while sliding my hands up her curvaceous legs until I reached her musky mound. As I ran my fingers over her p.u.s.s.y lips, her juices spilled forth. I slid two fingers in her boiling c.u.n.t, and she gave a low moan.

"Mmm, William," she said, placing one of her hands behind my head, inviting me to taste of her love. I raised one of my knees off the ground and felt Wylene place her foot on my mid-thigh, giving me easier access to her and allowing me to thrust my fingers deeper into her conflagrant c.u.n.t. I started sucking on Wylene's c.l.i.toris, sending further waves of pleasure through her body while she gasped and moaned steadily above my head.

After a while her breath quickened and her movements became more p.r.o.nounced, telling me her o.r.g.a.s.m was building up. I started licking and swirling my tongue inside her honey-pot, savoring the taste of her juices while stroking her c.l.i.t with my thumb.

"Yes! Yes!" Wylene yelled as her come flowed into my mouth. I swallowed as much of her narcotic nectar as I dared, further intoxicating myself with her love while longing to get her in my bed. She took her foot off my thigh to lean down and lick her come off my chin, then further blessed me with a pa.s.sionate French kiss. After I helped her straighten her clothes, we started back toward my house. On the way we discussed getting together again soon, which we agreed to do the next day-my house at eight in the morning.

When Wylene arrived, I greeted her with a deep, tongue-probing kiss. I hadn't bothered to get dressed that day, and she looked a little surprised when she saw me with only my robe on. But she accepted my kiss readily enough. She was wearing a pair of tight-fitting stone-washed blue jeans that showed off more than they covered, a white blouse that she let show a little cleavage, and a pair of brown heels that left her toes exposed and that matched her belt. She looked stunning, and I felt my d.i.c.k start to harden.

Not to seem overexcited, I asked Wylene if she would like anything to drink. She declined. So much for formality. I went and sat on the couch, then beckoned for her to come over. When she came over, she sat on my lap and felt my semierect p.r.i.c.k. She gave a short gasp but leaned down to kiss me. I started undoing the b.u.t.tons of her blouse, eager to suck on the nipples of her huge t.i.ts while her hands slid inside my robe and caressed my chest.

Once I had her blouse undone, I reached around and unclasped her bra, freeing those ripe melons with their hardened nipples, which were quickly recaptured inside my waiting mouth. I flicked around the nipple and halo of each of her t.i.ts before sucking as much as I could in my mouth.

"Oooh," Wylene moaned as I tugged on her nipples. After a while she slid off my lap and knelt between my legs. She undid the belt of my robe, uncovering my now fully erect d.i.c.k. Then she started stroking me slowly while she lovingly flicked and licked circles around the head of my c.o.c.k. When she finally sucked me into the sweet warmth of her mouth, I thought I was going to come then and there. I watched my c.o.c.k slide in and out of this gorgeous woman's mouth and listened to the slurps and moans she made while her head continued bobbing up and down, up and down. Her jaws were concave with the pressure she was applying to my throbbing c.o.c.k. The feeling of her mouth was exquisite, and the pressure so intense, I knew I wouldn't last much longer.

When Wylene sensed I was about to come, she pulled her mouth away with a loud pop. "No, not yet," she said, smiling. She started taking her clothes off. "Now I'm ready," she said, straddling me. Reaching behind her, she guided my c.o.c.k to her dripping t.w.a.t. When she started sliding down my pole, I couldn't believe how tight and hot she was, and couldn't stop myself from thrusting upward, driving my c.o.c.k deep inside her.

"Ah!" she cried out, rising slightly. I grabbed her round a.s.s and thrust as hard and buried as much of my c.o.c.k in her as I could. "Yes, baby, yes!" she groaned, now bouncing on my rod. "Harder, baby! Give me more!" she panted in my ear, pus.h.i.+ng her a.s.s down as hard as she could to engulf my d.i.c.k.

I rolled Wylene onto the couch, laying her on her back. I repositioned myself with her legs on my shoulders, then drove as powerfully into her as I could, feeling my d.i.c.k stretch her to new dimensions.

"William, I love you! I love you, William!" she repeated as I continued to pile-drive in and out of her gripping s.n.a.t.c.h. After some time I felt her body start trembling and her fingers clutch my back. "Oh, I'm coming! I'm coming!" she yelled, and I felt her c.u.n.t convulsing around my d.i.c.k. Her release soaked both my hardened member and my b.a.l.l.s. When I announced that I was on the verge of o.r.g.a.s.m, she said, "Come in me, baby. Come in my p.u.s.s.y."

With her legs still on my shoulders, I kept thrusting in her, hard and fast, until I exploded, my seed spilling out between her thighs. "Mmmm yes, baby," she moaned, pulling me down for a pa.s.sionate kiss as I enjoyed the feeling of our two bodies being made one.-W.R., Atlanta, Georgia THIS TWOSOME'S MATING DANCE MUST SET SOME KIND OF RECORD The philosopher Schopenhauer said that men spend their lives either reflecting on the past or antic.i.p.ating the future. They therefore miss the moment. They live in a state he called "ad interim," in-between. That is what I am living now. All I do is reflect and antic.i.p.ate. The moment means nothing to me. Having said that, here is a s.e.xcapade for your t.i.tillation, reflected from the fun-house mirror of my past.

A decade or so ago, a future codefendant of mine and I were at a famous swinging club in the Latin Quarter of New Orleans. We had moved there a year earlier from Los Angeles, and had finally figured out that there were some bars much more "tie-friendly" than others. Although the superhip semi-goth clubs we'd been in were full of ultracute, st.i.tched-tight, languid, insolent, sa.s.sy girls in their early twenties, they wouldn't give us a sniff. I'm sure it didn't help that the two of us were the only men in the place with suits and ties. We must have looked like government agents-or, worse yet, their fathers, even though we were only in our late thirties.

But our new hangout was known as a "tie bar." We had finally found a trough we could consistently feed from. My black Armani, black BMW and black-faced Rolex were just what these women in their short, tight black miniskirts had in mind. We lost most of the nubile la.s.ses in their early to mid-twenties, but struck it rich with the red-hot late-twenties-to-early-thirties demographic. Not as tight, but twice as wet.

So one night these two blonde Russian girls are sitting at the bar, one looking extra-fine in a micro-mini and the other a bit of a slob. Both girls are late twenties. I get no action from the micro-mini, but Paul arranges a luncheon date with the other one for the following day. The "luncheon date" amounts to him getting sucked off in his dented 1984 Caddie at high noon on a main thoroughfare as gaping pedestrians pa.s.s by like it's a f.u.c.king peep show.

"It was kind of embarra.s.sing," Paul said, and I imagine it was.

So we see these White Russian (as opposed to Asiatic or Arab Russian) girls on and off over the next few months. I still can't get a glance from the micro-mini, and Paul doesn't want any more action from the performance artist.

A year or so pa.s.ses by, and I turn into pretty much a solo, lone-wolf act, the way I like it. The micro-mini dumps the slob, and we keep b.u.mping into each other at this new, chi-chi bar. She shows up with various female Russian emigrees and introduces them to me. I get lucky and take home two or three of them-and believe me, that Russian p.u.s.s.y is hot.

About two more years pa.s.s. The micro-mini is no longer quite as good-looking as she was, and guess what. Now she wants me! And guess what else. I no longer want her.

Finally one night she actually asks me out. "Tim," she says, "will you take me to the Dockside to eat oysters?" I take her to the Dockside, we eat oysters, and I take her home. She can't believe I just drop her off. No kissing, no groping, no finger-f.u.c.king, no nothing.

I have been through this "when I wanted you, you didn't want me; now you want me and I don't want you" routine before, and know just how it works. It's my turn now to tease, to reject, and I can't wait! I continue to see her as usual over the next few months, hit on her friends and am cordial but aloof and unavailable toward her. She can't figure it out. But I do slow-dance with her once or twice during the evenings when I run into her-part of the tease.

The black guys I grew up with taught me all about slow dancing. They called it "grinding." I am grinding my c.o.c.k against that wet Russian p.u.s.s.y (I don't know it's wet, I'm just a.s.suming it is) while cupping her exquisite b.u.t.t cheeks and pulling her as close as possible. I can almost see it going in and out.

I d.a.m.n near pop off in my pants. I come off the dance floor with my d.i.c.k sticking straight out. She thinks it's funny. And it is. It's also sort of embarra.s.sing for me. I put my hand in my pocket and try to push it down. I adjust it parallel to my leg, but it's still rock-hard. You may wonder who's really teasing who. Trust me, I am teasing her.

This happens many nights. She asks me to take her home many times, but I always say no. I tell her, "I could never satisfy you." This is probably true.

She begs. One night I relent and say, "I won't take you home, but you can suck my d.i.c.k out in the car."

She won't go for that. I'm somewhat surprised. She coos, "I want you to eat my p.u.s.s.y too."

Now I can understand that, and am tempted, but I shake my head no, replying, "Sorry, not tonight." Truly, it is much better to reject than to be rejected.

Another night she suddenly asks, "Do you want to f.u.c.k me in the a.s.s?"

Somewhat taken aback, I answer, "I'll pa.s.s." But I'm thinking, "G.o.dd.a.m.n, this girl is f.u.c.king nasty."

Excuse this break in the story, but I have to jack off. I am in prison, you know. There, that's better.

Every story has its climax (I just had mine), and so does this one. So it's mid-November, and I'm at the bar where we first met the Russian girls over five celibate, seed-squandering masturbatory years earlier, and sure enough, she is also there, as usual. The ritualistic slow-dance tease begins. We come off the dance floor and go to the bar. I am more drunk and more stiff than usual tonight. Who says alcohol causes impotence?

I decide to take the tease to a new level. I am facing the bar, and so is she. I say, "Give me your hand." She hesitates but presents the hand. I put it on the stiffest drink in the house. She pulls the zipper down. My d.i.c.k pops out like a jack-in-the-box. It is a good thing I do not wear underwear. Although the bar is crowded, n.o.body can see what is going on. Remember, we are facing the bar.

She is squeezing the engorged shaft and tip. She says quietly, "My G.o.d, Tim, it must be seven inches."

I smiled. You would have smiled too if you had that d.i.c.k. Okay, so it was an exceptional night. She works her way down (or is it up?) to the b.a.l.l.s. She is lightly cradling them, kind of squeezing, but not really. She then begins to softly touch around the moist perimeter of the ball sac. She withdraws her hand and, get this, gives her hand a big sniff. No, no, it's not a sniff. "Sniff" is too cra.s.s a word. It's a slow, hypnotic inhalation, as though she is taking in a thick cloud of the finest masculine musk. Her eyes glaze and begin to roll back. I think she is going to pa.s.s out. By the way, my d.i.c.k is still out.

Next, as though by an act of pure will power, she refocuses, turns around and disappears into the crowd.

About an hour later I am sitting in the shadows at a table somewhat adjacent to the dance floor. My d.i.c.k is no longer out. A couple of couples are conversing nearby. I pick her up with my peripheral vision. She is homing toward me like a cruise missile. Smiling, she stands in front of me. She straddles me. Straddles my crotch. She slips her t.i.t out.

"Suck it, Tim," she says, and I do. It's a real nice t.i.t.

One of the couples see what is going on and pretend not to look. They look.

"Do you like that?" she asks. I nod and start licking. She pushes my head back and covers the breast.

"Give me your hand," she says, and again I do as she asks. She inserts my hand down the top of her skirt. It descends, of its own accord, to the panty line. I draw the panty back. She rises up slightly to make it easier for me. Both couples at the tables are now staring. I don't give a s.h.i.+t. I pa.s.s the p.u.b.es like they're not there (maybe they aren't) and go straight for the honey hole with my middle finger. It's real wet. I dab the c.l.i.t. It's hard like a small ball bearing.

I linger. She jerks my hand out and says, "Taste it, Tim." Again, I do as I'm told. I suck my middle finger. Sweet. Now my eyes roll back like I'm a bull moose in full rut. I am in a trance. And then she hops off, giggles and once again blends into the crowd.

I am now determined to take her home with me the next time I see her. But forty-eight hours later I am b.u.m-rushed, handcuffed and dragged into the elevator of my high-rise apartment by a half dozen rabid DEA agents.

I'm sure that that Russian minx often wonders what ever happened to me. So do I.-T.L., Shreveport, Louisiana E-PENPALS MAKE EROTIC USE OF WHAT THEY'VE LEARNED ABOUT EACH OTHER Lauren and I had worked in the same department for about two years. She's a highly intelligent, attractive, s.e.xy woman in her late twenties, with these great legs and highly kissable lips. She's also a great dresser. She would wear suits with nice short skirts that showed off those great legs. Every time we had a department meeting, I would try to sit in front of her or beside her to get a better view of them. She also has a fine a.s.s, which I would take a peek at every time she walked past my office.

I always wondered what it would be like to be with her, but I never acted on that impulse. Over time we became pretty good friends, and began communicating by e-mail. We asked each other pretty reasonable questions. The agreement was that if a question was too personal, you didn't have to answer.

One day I pushed the envelope and began to ask s.e.xual questions, such as did she like to suck c.o.c.k, or did she like to have her p.u.s.s.y licked, or had she ever m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed? To my surprise, she answered all my questions, and in some detail. She said that she liked sucking c.o.c.k more than having her p.u.s.s.y eaten, which was a huge turn-on for me. She also said that she had a vibrator at home that got regular use when she was in the mood.

Then one day I decided to take it a step further and started asking questions related to us. I told her that since we had been e-mailing each other, I was getting very turned on and wanted very badly to kiss her. I asked her to come to my office after everyone had left. Her first reply indicated that she was hesitant, but an e-mail or two later, she thought that it might be fun to do.

When the time came Lauren knocked on my door. I said to come in and shut the door behind her. I was a bit nervous because we were at work, but at the same time I was very excited by that fact. I had always fantasized about f.u.c.king a coworker in my office. Once Lauren was in, with the door closed, we kissed for about twenty seconds. I have to say, she is a very good kisser. Her lips were incredible.

That happened on a Friday afternoon, and I had to wait till Monday to try and take it further. All that weekend I thought I was going to bust. All I could think about was kissing Lauren and having those gorgeous lips on my c.o.c.k, and eating her p.u.s.s.y. Monday came, and the first thing I did was e-mail Lauren. I said how nice the kiss was, and said I wanted more with her. I think she wanted more also, because she agreed to meet me at lunch for some real fun.

We met at a storage house our company has. I got there first and waited for her to show. When she did, she had on this very s.e.xy short skirt with white stockings. She decided that she wanted to take her stockings off. At this point my d.i.c.k was really hard. She came out of the bathroom, and we locked lips. As we kissed, long and pa.s.sionately, I unb.u.t.toned her blouse to get at her nice b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The nipples were really hard and pointy. I made my way down to them and began to suck on them.

She was rubbing my c.o.c.k through my pants. She unzipped my pants and took out my c.o.c.k. She seemed to approve of what she found, because she said "d.a.m.n!" under her breath. She took my hard-on in her mouth and sucked away, driving me crazy. She had written in one of her e-mails that she was good at sucking c.o.c.k. I certainly couldn't disagree!

I couldn't take it anymore, I wanted to lick her p.u.s.s.y. I sat her on a desk and spread the legs. She was wearing these white lace bikini panties, and I saw the hairs of her p.u.s.s.y through them. I pulled her panty lining to the side and began to lick her p.u.s.s.y lips. I nibbled on her c.l.i.t, then stuck my tongue in her. Her p.u.s.s.y was so wet, and tasted so sweet! She moaned as I tongue-f.u.c.ked her, but it was getting late and we both knew that we had to get back to our desks.

Back at work, Lauren and I e-mailed each other, saying how much we had enjoyed our lunchtime snack. I told her how sweet her p.u.s.s.y tasted, and said that I wanted to f.u.c.k her. She said that my tongue in her p.u.s.s.y was all she could think about, and that she wanted me to f.u.c.k her with my big d.i.c.k. She said that just thinking about it made her p.u.s.s.y wet. We decided to have round two the next day, this time making sure we got there early enough to f.u.c.k.

The next day I couldn't wait till lunch. When noon finally came, I hit the door and headed straight to the storage house. Lauren showed up soon after, wearing another short skirt, this time with black stockings and black high heels. I find black on a beautiful woman an incredibly erotic color, so you better believe I was h.o.r.n.y as h.e.l.l.

Lauren took off her stockings again, and we kissed. She grabbed my a.s.s with both hands and pulled me close. Then she rubbed my chest and began to stroke my c.o.c.k through my pants. I took off her blouse and began nibbling on her beautiful t.i.ts. She pushed me back so she could unzip my pants, which she pulled down along with my boxers. My d.i.c.k sprang out, and she jerked me off for a while, as she kissed my chest and then my stomach.

Her mouth reached my c.o.c.k and engulfed it. I was going crazy. She deep-throated it a couple of times, and I thought I was going to shoot down her throat right there. To keep from coming too soon, I stopped her and sat her on a small table and spread her legs. This time she had on a pair of black lace bikini panties. They were very s.e.xy. I pulled them off.

Her p.u.s.s.y was soaking wet. I dove right in, licking and sucking on her c.l.i.t. I stuck a finger in and finger-f.u.c.ked her while I ate her p.u.s.s.y. She moaned as I continued eating her p.u.s.s.y and finger-f.u.c.king her. She set her hands on my head and eased my face deeper in her p.u.s.s.y, then pushed me back.

I figured there was something wrong, but Lauren looked me right in the eye and said, "I want you to f.u.c.k me." She didn't have to ask twice.

I bent her over the desk and began to f.u.c.k her from behind. I got a close look at the a.s.s I wanted so much to touch. I f.u.c.ked her p.u.s.s.y hard as she moaned. I fondled her fine a.s.s while I f.u.c.ked her, which seemed to turn her on more, and the more she got turned on, the more I got turned on. I pulled my d.i.c.k out of her p.u.s.s.y and spread her legs a little more. I squatted down and ate her p.u.s.s.y again, only this time from behind. I kissed her a.s.s cheeks and squeezed them, loving how they felt in my hands. Her p.u.s.s.y tasted even better this time. She pushed her a.s.s in my face, and I f.u.c.ked her from behind with my tongue. I slid two fingers in her p.u.s.s.y and finger-f.u.c.ked her while I ate her out.

I wanted to f.u.c.k Lauren some more. She had mentioned once that she liked to be on top, so I lay down and pulled her on top of me. She f.u.c.ked me hard, bouncing up and down on my d.i.c.k. I couldn't believe this mild-mannered woman could f.u.c.k so well. I parted her cheeks and thrust my c.o.c.k inside her. I felt the juices from her p.u.s.s.y running down the shaft of my c.o.c.k.

She whispered, "f.u.c.k me! f.u.c.k me!"

I asked if she liked being f.u.c.ked like this, and she moaned, "Ye-e-es."

I rolled her over so that I was on top of her and began to bang the h.e.l.l out of her p.u.s.s.y. I spread her legs as wide as I could get them. Her p.u.s.s.y was so wet, my c.o.c.k slid right in. I slowed my motion and stroked deeper inside her. She put her hands on my a.s.s, pulled me closer to her and moaned, "f.u.c.k me harder."

I picked up the pace and soon was f.u.c.king her uncontrollably, f.u.c.king harder and faster with each thrust. I had one leg on my shoulder and the other wrapped around my arm so I could reach deeper and deeper in her.

I felt myself coming and wanted to spray my hot come in Lauren's mouth. She had mentioned in one of her e-mails that she didn't mind having a guy come in her mouth. I pulled my d.i.c.k out and positioned myself closer to her mouth. As the head slid between her lips, I exploded. I think it was the most come I've ever shot. She swallowed spurt after spurt, with only occasional drops dribbling down her chin.

Lauren and I were drained, but we got ourselves together, gave each other one last kiss and went back to work. That afternoon we ran into each other several times, and she must have noticed the big smile on my face. We haven't been together since, but we have stayed good friends. I think we have gotten closer.

I would love to f.u.c.k her again, but the opportunity hasn't presented itself. If it does, I will definitely take advantage.-M.N., Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania THIS SUMMER DAY TURNS INTO A SCORCHER OF MORE THAN ONE KIND.

The sun beams through the curtains of my bedroom window, waking me up. I glance at my bedside clock and realize that it's eleven o'clock. I'm peeved at myself for sleeping most of the morning away. I grab my housecoat and make my way downstairs to start the coffee maker. Nothing like a fresh cup of java to start a girl's day off.

I open the patio door blinds to look out at the beautiful scenery. The sun s.h.i.+nes warm and invitingly upon my deck. Not wanting to waste any of its beautiful rays, I make my way to the bathroom and slip my housecoat off. As the hot water from the shower head beads and pounds against my soft skin, I realize that it has been weeks since my body has been touched by the loving hands of a man.

My p.u.s.s.y becomes excited. Was it the sight of the beaming sun, or the warmth of the streaming water? I start to lather and caress my body with the soapy puff pad. Tilting my head back, I allow the shower flow to hit my face. I let out a slight sigh. My p.u.s.s.y becomes more and more excited as the pressure of the water hits my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and c.l.i.t simultaneously.

I become greedy for the sensation and turn my body so the shower pulses directly against my hot p.u.s.s.y. I begin to finger myself. Groping at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and fondling my c.l.i.t, I feel myself getting hotter and wetter. As the water continues to pulse against my c.l.i.t and my fingers move faster and faster in and out of my p.u.s.s.y, I find myself building to an o.r.g.a.s.m. I let out a roar as I come. If only that were a c.o.c.k instead of my fingers working my c.u.n.t so feverishly!

I lean my head against the cool wall of the shower stall. I close my eyes and let my body succ.u.mb to the sensations. I know that it won't be long before I will find myself in a state of ecstasy once again. With that thought in mind, I quickly rinse myself off and start thinking about my daily tasks, which have yet to be performed.

Once I turn off the shower, I s.h.i.+ver from the burst of cold air that hits my tingling body. With my nipples still erect and sensitive from my o.r.g.a.s.m, I towel myself off carefully. I send chills through my body when I reach my p.u.s.s.y.

I slip my housecoat back on and make my way back downstairs. The coffee is ready, and I pour myself a cup. I open the patio doors and take my cup out onto the deck. A warm wind is blowing briskly. I tilt my head upward to allow the suns.h.i.+ne to beat down on my face. I slide into my lounge chair and let the housecoat fall open. I lie back and allow the warmth of the sun to soothe my bare flesh. The heat unexpectedly stimulates me. I take in a deep breath, and as my chest swells, my bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s luxuriate in the warmth of the sun. Mmm, it feels so good!

I close my eyes and begin to fantasize about a man sucking and licking my c.l.i.t. My hand reaches down, and once again I find myself fondling my p.u.s.s.y. I am overcome by thoughts of s.e.xual encounters.

I am so h.o.r.n.y that it doesn't take much to start the juices flowing again. My hips gyrate quickly against my own hand. My c.l.i.t and p.u.s.s.y long for release. I finger-f.u.c.k myself feverishly into oblivion. With the exhilaration of the fresh air and the warmth of the sun, I am soon nearing another o.r.g.a.s.m.

I let out a loud scream that causes the birds to fly away. With every part of my body tingling, I lie there relaxed and exhausted, yet still wis.h.i.+ng I enjoyed the company of a man. I decide that I will make this my number-one priority for the day.

After finis.h.i.+ng my coffee, with some reluctance I get dressed. Since it's so warm out, I throw on just a short T-s.h.i.+rt (no bra) and a tight miniskirt (no panties). Now I'm ready to venture out and strut my stuff.

It really is hot. I put the top down on my convertible. Then I carefully adjust my seat belt so it enhances my bust. I feel the sun beating down on my head, and crank up the stereo. With the tunes rocking and the wind flying through my hair, I cruise to a nearby pool hall, where I am surprised by the number of cars I find parked in the parking lot. I don't pay much attention to the cars. I just think of the men they have brought here. I hope that inside I will find one who can perhaps satisfy the s.e.xual hunger that is consuming me.

I put up the convertible roof and strut lewdly toward the entrance. I fling the outer doors open and pa.s.s from the bright suns.h.i.+ne to the relative darkness of the room inside. It takes awhile for my eyes to adjust. The smell of beer and stale cigarette smoke soothes my senses. I look for my first hopeful.

Walking over to the nearest table, I feel every man's gaze burning into me. I walk to the wall and grab a cue. I chalk the tip as suggestively as I can. You twirl the cue in my fingers as you approach the table.

"Care to play?" you ask.

"Why, certainly," I reply.

I walk behind you while you rack the b.a.l.l.s up. I enjoy the view of your a.s.s, and even give it a squeeze before proceeding to the other end of the table. I bend over, giving you a good view of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s down the front of my s.h.i.+rt as I prepare to break. I give you a devilish smile as I smack the b.a.l.l.s in motion.

I now walk toward you to prepare for my next shot. As I bend over the table again, you can see the bottom of my a.s.s cheeks. You find this stimulating, and can't resist slipping your hand under my skirt and giving a manly squeeze. I let out a squeal of delight.

Feeling frisky, I purposely back my a.s.s into your crotch and wiggle my a.s.s as I continue shooting, sinking ball after ball. I feel your c.o.c.k growing through your skintight jeans. What a delicious feeling! I take my cue and stroke it lovingly, hoping to leave no doubt of my pa.s.sion for big hard shafts. I miss my next shot and make a gesture with my hand that it's your play.

As you bend over the table, I walk up behind you, reach my hand between your legs and gently squeeze your b.a.l.l.s. You find this invigorating. You back your a.s.s up against my arm, allowing me to reach your c.o.c.k. I obligingly give it a friendly squeeze. I let out a breathy "Hmm." I am no longer interested in the game-at least not the game of pool!-and neither are you.

You stand up and look around the room to see if anyone is looking. Then you cup my breast with one hand and reach under my skirt with the other. I'm very hot and wet. My nipples are fully erect from the touch of your hand. You give me a strong kiss on the lips, and squeeze my breast at the same time. I let out a groan of pa.s.sion. I am so-o-o h.o.r.n.y! As we are intertwined with the kiss, I reach down and grope your c.o.c.k. I start to unb.u.t.ton your fly. But you stop me.

Shocked, I step away and look you in the eyes. Could I have been wrong? Did you not want the same thing as I did? I am overwhelmed with feelings of rejection. You take my hand and lead me to a secluded corner of the room. It is there that the pa.s.sion begins.

You place me up against the wall facing you and lower yourself to your knees. Lifting my skirt, you begin to lavishly nibble and suck on my c.l.i.t. I groan with desire. I throw my head back and enjoy every sensation while lifting one of my legs and placing it on your shoulder. You then reach around and place your hands on my a.s.s and squeeze firmly. I press my p.u.s.s.y harder against your face. I feel myself building fast to an ultimate climax.

Just as I begin to reach my peak, you stop. I take a deep breath. Your face is dotted with my love juices. I moan and plead with you to finish me. You smile. We kiss again pa.s.sionately. I lick the drops of my juices from your face.

I reach down and unb.u.t.ton your pants, freeing your throbbing c.o.c.k. I take it in my hand. It's so hard, so eager to be loved. I gently pull myself away, never letting go. We turn, and now you are leaning against the wall. Eager to receive the benefit of my talents.

I go to my knees. I lick the tip of your c.o.c.k, while still stroking your shaft with my hand. I give it a squeeze, allowing droplets of your come to escape. I lap these up greedily. Now I wrap my lips around the end and take you deep in the back of my throat. My mouth feels hot around your c.o.c.k. You place your hands on my head for the ride, as I bob up and down your shaft, slowly at first, then picking up speed. I rub your b.a.l.l.s with my hand in perfect synchronization with the strokes I make with my mouth, giving you extreme pleasure. I feel your manhood swelling and stiffening as I receive it deep in my throat.

Finally I suck you so hard that you explode. I swallow every drop. You become weak, but I don't stop. I continue the rhythm of my mouth on your c.o.c.k and my hands on your b.a.l.l.s, until you become hard once again. You are amazed that this can be done!

But I still need release. You stand me up and kiss my neck and face while fingering me. I am soaking wet from my arousal. I whisper in your ear that I need to be f.u.c.ked. You oblige by bending me over the pool table, which is only inches away. I hike up my skirt and spread my legs wide, allowing you to have full access to my p.u.s.s.y. You enter me, and I let out a moan. You pull out and tease me with the tip of your c.o.c.k. I dig my nails into the fabric of the table while begging you to penetrate me fully. I need to be f.u.c.ked, I tell you, and f.u.c.ked hard.