Sixty-Second Sexcapade: Honeymoon Surprise

 

The 28^th of this month will mark the 5 year anniversary of my marriage to my husband David.  I can remember the day so clearly –as if it were yesterday.  Twenty-four hours before the wedding, I spent the entire day being pampered from head to toe: a manicure and pedicure in the morning, brunch at the hotel and a stress free afternoon at the spa.  I slept like a baby –that was the eye of the storm.  The morning of my wedding, my Matron of Honor and I, along with the flower girls headed to the hair salon for the finishing touches of pampering before the wedding.  I spent the rest of the day making sure people were where they were supposed to be, doing what they were supposed to be doing at the times they were supposed to be doing it. 

After months of planning and many sleepless nights, working out every last detail, the ceremony came –it was beautiful and went off without a hitch.  Friends and family surrounded me from the time I was in the receiving line to the time we sat for dinner at the reception.  I barely finished the meal, when I was in the throngs of well wishers and party guests, each hugging me and wanting their turn to converse.  I saw David for a total of thirty minutes for the whole day, and I wanted nothing more than to start our honeymoon –the suite had already been reserved and was calling for us to enjoy it.

The first moment I had to myself, I looked for my new husband, and I couldn’t find him.  I looked at each table, by the exits, I looked everywhere but one place –behind me.  His hands found their way around my waist, and I faced him.  The evening was getting late, and David wanted us to start being man and wife.  We were soon encircled by friends and family again –taking pictures and offering their congratulations.  By the time midnight approached, I was exhausted.  When David and I finally stole away from the reception and made it to the hotel room, showering was all I could do to stay awake.  I don’t remember how I made it to bed, after our shower.  I just remember climbing into bed naked and succumbing to the night. 

The dream that entered my sleep was erotic.  I was in the most beautiful garden –the trees were lush, the flowers perfectly in bloom and as the sun made it way westward, a gentle breeze tickled the tendrils of hair near my neck before twirling in the luxurious curls that fell midway down my back.  I walked in the direction on the pond with the waterfall to swim in the crystal clear water. 

I walked under the waterfall and leaned my neck back, allowing the gentle shower of water to caress my face and run its streaming fingers through the length of my hair and down my back. Moving to the edge of the reflecting pool, I sat on a large rock letting just my legs enter. The warm rushes of water moved around me, then across me to where they entered me, and I was completely aroused. 

I spread my legs in order to deepen the pleasurable sensations that the water was creating in me; it was phenomenal –the water moved in and around my labia wetting me enough to quench the thirst of my lower lips, before exchanging chores with the wind –which blew it breath over my clitoris and into my vagina. The setting sun had his part as well –his warm lips massaged every bit of exposed flesh, and the hot teeth of his coronal rays tugged and pulled at hood of my clitoris heating me quickly.  The watery tongue of Neptune entered the deepest part of my womanhood creating in me the sensation of soaring –I was seduced, then titillated and eventually became one with nature.  I spread my arms like wings so that I could continue to fly.

Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes, catching the fading rays of sunlight dancing on the surface of the lagoon –like dozens of candles flickering in the impending darkness, guiding the stars to their rightful place in the night sky.

The sweet scent of jasmine and lavender roused me from sleeping the next morning.  Candles –dozens of them in varying shades of purple decorated the room.  I was in David’s arms –as the daylight greeted us. He wished me good morning and he thanked me for officially becoming his wife.

Sixty-Second Fantasy: Nooner

I have always wanted to role play with my husband, Neil.  My fantasy would start off on a Friday morning with making reservations at a swanky upscale hotel downtown –a suite for one the entire weekend.  I courier a package to Neil, who works just blocks away from the hotel; the instructions are for him to meet me outside the hotel at noon for lunch, and not to be late, because the reservation won’t be held past 12.

I arrive 20 minutes before our rendezvous time, and I step out of the cab wearing an outfit that will stop him dead in his tracks –black leather thigh high boots held up by garters under the shortest of leather mini skirts, a black push-up which perks my cleavage and is barely hidden below a cut off tank top, a black leather jacket, green contact lenses and to top it all off, a long brunette wig –Neil has always had a thing for brunettes.

When he arrives, I am pacing up and down along the street and just before the valet makes it to his Mercedes I lean in through the driver’s window, so that he can get a good look down my blouse.  “In the mood for a good time, Baby?”

He glances at me briefly and then speaks, “I’m sorry…I’m meeting my wife for lunch.”

“She won’t mind…maybe she can watch us –”  He gets out of the car and hands off his keys to the valet for his ticket and makes his way into the lobby of the hotel.  I follow him in where he is sitting at the bar in the restaurant, waiting. 

Sneaking up from behind, I cover his eyes with my hands and whisper, “Maybe, if your wife is kinky, she can join us.”   He pulls my hands from his face and turns around on the stool –just before he is about to speak, he realizes that it is me and he smiles –all eyes are on us because we look like a mismatched pair.  I stand between his legs and kiss him.  “Let’s get a room.”

“What about the lunch reservations their holding for us?”

“The reservations are for a suite…and besides I’m not dressed for lunch.” 

Neil kisses me on the lips then reaches into the breast pocket of his suit and pulls out is bill fold. “How much are you going to cost me for the hour?”

“That all depends on what you want to do to me –and what you what me to do to you.”  Neil counts out five-hundred dollars and hands it to me. “Will this cover it?”

“For starters.”  I put the money in my bra then grab onto his tie like a leash leading him out of the bar.  I let go and he takes the lead, checking in at the reception desk.  The woman behind the counter looks me over and reminds him that the suite is only for one.  As Neil takes his pass key, I reassure her, “Don’t worry about me, I’m only staying for an hour.”

We make out on the ride up in the elevator, and as we exit on our floor, looks and sneers are made by on coming riders.  Neil opens the room door and I enter, with him close behind. “I want you on the sofa.”  I walk over and sit.  “Panties off.”

“I’m not wearing any…want do you want me to do next?”

“Spread your legs and play with yourself.”  I spread my legs apart –placing the heels of my boots on the coffee table before me.  I pull up my skirt and reach down between my legs and begin to touch myself –with two fingers of one hand rubbing my clit and the middle finger of the other hand deep in my pussy.  Neil stands a few yards away –staring, intensely, as he undresses.

When he’s naked he starts to stroke his dick with one hand and rub his balls with the other.  Neil sits down next to me and tells me to climb on.  I do –still fully dressed.  Not waiting for any more orders I grasp his dick and insert it into me and slid down on it –feeling his entire length in me.  Grabbing Neil’s hands, I pin them down against the back of the sofa and start to ride –flexing and relaxing my inner thighs –sucking in the head as deeply as I can, then letting it go, almost sliding out, before I squat back down on him again and suck it back in.  I am working for my money. 

I bend my head over Neil’s and lean in for a kiss –only this time I use my tongue –thrusting it into his mouth, every time I take his dick into me.  Neil sits up on the cushion and when I take him in again, it is deeper.  My hood rubs up against his lower abdomen and as I continue to ride –my rise to climax quickens.  I ride him until I cum then wrap my arms around his neck and let the tiny heartbeat within me massage the head of his dick.  I gasp, trying to catch my breath. 

When Neil cums, I feel his dick contract several times within me –rapidly.  He holds me tightly about the waist –enjoying his release.  I whisper to him, “Your hour is almost up.”

“What else am I gonna get for my money?”

“Nothing –anything else is gonna cost you extra.”

Sixty-Second Sexcapade: Three Bean Salad

Kirk and I have the most fabulous sex life –it is hard to believe that we have been dating for a little over a week.  He is my fourth partner and he, by far has been the best.  We fuck all the time –any time, any place and any where.  Shit!  There is nothing that is off limits –if there is something we can dream up –in a monogamous encounter between the two of us –we do it.  In the dugout after his baseball game, on his mother’s kitchen table after dinner, under the overpass on the way home from the movies –after doing it twice during the same movie.  He is the only man who has had enough energy to keep up with me.  It is really nice to finally be with a man –Kirk is 24 and I am 18.

My only regret is that he is so much more experienced –in sexual matters –than I am.  I sometimes wish that when he mentioned a new position or an act, that I knew exactly what he meant and exactly how he liked to be fucked –but I am learning –quickly.

Last night was the first time Kirk and I 69’d it –as a matter of fact –it was the first time that I came anywhere near being a six or a nine.  I mean, I’ve given head –plenty of times –I’ve being doing it since I was 12, and I’ve been eaten out more times than I can remember but the yesterday was the first time the two have been put together.  The night we met, after making out in the club, Kirk’s invited me to see his red Firebird parked outside. His license plate said IB6 UB9. He mentioned that it was his favorite thing to do, and that he wanted to do it with me –when we had the time and space to do it and no chance of anyone interrupting us.  His roommate left for California in the morning and last night we did it –but I was tempted to do so much more.

After a shower together, Kirk started by lying diagonally across his bed –naked.  I got on the bed and kneeled –shifting one leg over him, until I sat on his face.  I rubbed my pussy all over his mouth –it felt almost as good as a dick.  Kirk raised my ass up and I fell forward –my arms caught me before I hit his legs. I crawled over him, until I was right over his dick and then went down.  I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and plunged down taking in everything but the stalk. As I pulled off of him, I let my tongue ring trace its way up –applying pressure to his shaft –I knew he liked it, because he shoved his tongue all the way up my pussy.

I went down on him again –and put on the suction.  I was bobbing and licking, sucking –trying to get every bit of cum out his dick.  Kirk alternated between licking out my cunt and nibbling on my clit while sticking his fingers in my pussy.  The shit he was doing was so damned good, I thought I was going to lose my mind –and then he did it.  Kirk stroked the length of his tongue upward and licked the entrance to my asshole.  I don’t know whether I was scared or shocked, but I stopped slobbin’ the knob, and he did it again.  I braced myself for a third time, when he surprised me again, and slipped the tip of his tongue in.

Holy fuck!  I sat there in shock as he pushed his tongue further in.  He stopped only to tell me not to stop sucking him.  I went back down on him, but the only thing I could think of was ass –first, of only what he was doing to mine, then of what I could do to his.

While I sucked his dick, I imagined just licking the outside lower and lower until I was at his balls –taking each one into my mouth as I rubbed his shaft with my hand.  After my saliva had thoroughly wet his dick and balls I would use my hands and massage his ripe delicious squash and beans, while I go lower –licking the flesh just under his balls –descending until I tossed his salad.  I wanted to stick my tongue in his ass and taste him as deeply and as intimately as he was tasting me.  The thought of licking his ass, while he was licking mine and playing in my cunt, made me cum. I have never cum that fast being eaten out or giving head –I have never cum that good either.

Sixty Second Sexcapade: The Familiar Stranger

My boyfriend, Tad, of three years recently went on a business trip to Chicago and consequently he ended up missing the three year anniversary of our first date.  I was most upset that he could not get back in time to celebrate with me, but he sent me a dozen long stemmed roses.

The evening of our anniversary, I spent relaxing. I lit several vanilla scented votive candles and set them around the bathtub then drew myself a hot steamy bath.  As the tub filled, I plucked the petals from some of the roses and dropped them, letting their soft velvety surface soak into the water releasing their essence.  I added a few drops of body oil to transform the aromatic atmosphere into one that was sensual.

I disrobe –taking off each layer of clothing, imagining myself to be one of the roses I had stripped of its petals, ready to enter the water and release my essence.  I climb into the bath and lower myself slowly, giving my body time to adjust to the change in temperature.  Once in, I lay my head back on an inflatable tub pillow and let the rose and oil mixture permeate my pores.  When I am relaxed, I find it much easier to touch myself, and so I do.

I spread my legs and put my feet up, out of the water, onto the edges of the bathtub.  Massing the oil into my breasts, I caress them for a few minutes, then move my hands to my forbidden garden, and let my fingers play among the terrain. It doesn’t take long for me to harvest the garden and drift off into sleep.

I don’t know how long I sleep, but a cold draft chills the parts of my body that are exposed to the air, and I wake.  It takes a moment for my eyes to focus on the candle light, which has almost burned down all of the wax –the first candle I lit has consumed itself.  I sit up in the tub to blow out the rest when another cold breeze wafts across my back.  As I look to the bathroom door it is wide open –not as I had left it, and there is a large male form in perfect silhouette standing in the room with me.  I am speechless in terror.

“Get out of the water.”  He whispers, and I comply.  I stand on the bathmat dripping wet and the fading candle light reflects off of my naked body.

“My purse is in the kitchen –I don’t have much jewelry. I–”

“I didn’t come to here to rob you.”  My heart begins to race.  The man, who towers above me, grabs my arm and pulls me out of the bathroom and shoves me up against the wall.  He presses his body up against me, and I feel his erect penis on my skin. The stubble on his face brushes against my cheek, and I feel his breath on my ear as he whispers, “I came here to fuck you.” 

I inhale deeply and I smell a scent which is clearly familiar –Taboo for Men.  The stranger’s words are immediately followed by a gentle kiss on my neck. “Tad?” I whisper as I exhale a sigh of relief.

He lifts me up over one shoulder and heads straight for my bedroom where he throws me onto the bed.  The bedroom window is open and the crisp night air joins us.  The room is completely darkened –even the closet light I keep on as a makeshift night light is extinguished.  I hear the sound of hands fidgeting with paper –a condom wrapper. 

He pins me to the bed and feel him enter –like a warm rod, heating me from the inside out.  The oil from the bath allows him to slide in again and again, and I welcome him without resistance.  His hands shift to my legs spreading them further apart and he penetrates me deeply.  I rub my clit which helps me to orgasm.  He finishes and gets up.  I fall asleep before Tad makes it back to bed.

The next morning the phone rings –its Tad.  “Where are you?”  I ask as I am roused out of sleep, still reeling from my late night visit.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but I’m still at the airport…my flight was delayed, and I won’t be home until tonight.”  I roll over in bed, and notice that the window wasn’t left opened, it was broken into –there are shards of glass below it.  I sit up in bed and read the message written in lipstick on my mirror: Happy Anniversary.

Sixty Second Sexcapade: A Days Labor

I recently moved DC, and I have a recurring fantasy about a Day Laborer who waits in a parking lot of a shopping plaza every day and whom I pass each morning on the way home from work.  He stands out from the rest, because he is considerably taller –about 6’ and he is well built and he dresses in worn out jeans and a faded tank top that shows off his broad shoulders and golden tanned skin.  His hair has a slight curl to it and his smile is flawless.  But his most striking feature has got to be his eyes –they’re hazel –light brown in the middle with a jade green color near the edges.

I stop at the traffic light and he knocks on the passenger window.  Using the power locks I unwind it, and he pops his head in the open window and asks if he can mow my lawn, rake some leaves or clean out my garage.  He knows enough English for me to understand him.

“How much to you charge per hour?”  I ask inquisitively. 

He hesitates then speaks. “Seven, maybe ten –depends on work.”  My mind starts wandering.

“How much to have you for the whole day?”  I am almost embarrassed to ask because I feel more like a john soliciting sex, than a business women negotiating the price of a days work.

“For you –hmmm, eighty dollars.”  I smile as does he.

“Come in.”

On the ride home, I find out that his name is Hector and that he is single, but supporting his mother in Mexico.  We arrive at my suburban home and pull into the garage.  I show him the gardening tools and indicate what needs to be done.  He starts in the backyard, trimming the hedges.  Perfect.

I undress, and then dress in the skimpiest bikini I own –a black string bikini with the matching thong, and slip on a pair of stilettos.  I head poolside to catch some early morning sun.  Hector is wearing nothing but his jeans, boots and a pair of work gloves.  He is bear-chested and sweat streams down his body.

As I sit in a lounge chair, I catch his attention –but pretend not to notice.  Removing the bikini top, I hear the motor stop.  I begin lotioning my breasts with sun-block –squeezing each one before I start to fondle my nipples. 

I reach for the sun-block again and can’t find it.  It is at that moment I feel a pair of rough masculine hands, with palms covered with tanning lotion, caress my shoulders.  My chest rises and falls with each rub he administers and I lean my head back onto his chest.  Hector sits behind me, with his work boots planted on the deck.

The sweet-pungent odor of sweat surrounds me, and I feel wetness escape from my vagina and become absorbed in the tiny strip of fabric between my legs. Hector’s palms slide down my chest and over my breasts.  He massages them, occasionally pulling each nipple between his thumbs and forefingers.

I turn to face Hector.  As I kneel at the end of the lounger, I slowly slip off my bikini bottoms and crawl towards him along the chair.  I rub my breasts up the smooth, sleek lines of his abdomen and chest.  I straddle his legs and can feel his erect penis through his jeans.

We lean in to kiss each other and I taste him –cool and refreshing, like spearmint gum.  Our tongues play for a few moments longer before I pull away.  My lower lips are dying to take a bite out of the giant enchilada in his pants.

I unbutton then unzip his jeans –he isn’t wearing any underwear. His dick is just as beautiful as the rest of him as it is springs out of his pants.  I rub the head, then the shaft before rocking my hips forward and moving him into my vagina.

I slide down onto him, and he fills me completely.  Hector’s fingers move to my belly button and shift down until he touches the hood of my clitoris.  His thumb presses it in then rubs it in a circular motion and I moan in pleasure.

He continues to rub me and I start to ride him –up and down –up and down –every up till the point he’s about to come out and every down until I can’t take anymore of him in.  Hector rubs my clit –faster and faster and the sensations within my hood rise.  I use my hands to anchor myself on his shoulders and ride him harder and quicker. 

I rise up off of him as I cum and he grabs my waist and pulls me back onto him.  He plunges deep within me and cums like a shotgun –Jacking a round into the chamber –then bam!  I feel each jack he releases into my chamber and we kiss each other again, deeper and more passionately.

I end the kiss and Hector looks at me intensely.  “I must get back to work.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you are finished for the day.”  I reach over to my purse and remove my wallet.  I take out a hundred dollar bill and tell him, “Make yourself available to me, and there’ll be more where this came from –not bad for a days work.”

Sixty-Second Sexcapade: How Do I Love Thee?

The summer break between my Sophomore and Junior year in college, I got involved with a man that was several years my senior.  We met through a mutual friend at work, and hit it off automatically.  He was sweet on me and I had him wrapped around my finger.  Whenever we got together –whether we spent the evening talking, were out at a restaurant or having sex –we always had a great time.

Our relationship got a little too serious, a little too quick.  That, coupled with everything that we both had going on in our own lives –his children were starting high school and I was preparing to go back to college, there was less and less time for the two of us to share. And when the summer ended, so did our relationship.  I’ve always wondered from time to time, how he was doing, and if he ever thought about me and that summer we spent together.

Every now and then, when I am alone with myself, my thoughts and my memories, I fantasize about John.  I picture myself coming back from lunch and finding a Frederick’s of Hollywood bag along with a note in an envelope from John, sitting on my desk.  When I open the envelope a hotel pass falls out; the accompanying note reads: Meet me at 7 tonight in room 628 at the Radisson on Nicholson Ave.  Your attire for the evening is in the bag.  I take a peek in the bag and find a red lace bra and the matching panties –that just happen to be crotchless.

I make my way to the hotel, wearing the clothing provided, my favorite red heels and a rain coat.  I wait patiently outside of the room until exactly seven then enter.  There are candles everywhere, and on the bed, completely naked is John.  I remove my coat, and walk over to the bed and climb on to it, then onto John. I sit on his lap facing him –feeling his long hard dick lying between the lips he prefers to kiss,  when he whispers, “I know that I haven’t always told you how I feel about you, but tonight I want to show you –every way I can.” 

He asks me lie on my side –with my legs slightly curved forward.  John crawls around me and I feel his dick snake around the back of by neck before I feel his lips kiss every inch of my outer labia.  The kissing reigning down arouses me to no end.

 John then tells me he wants me to turn, so that I’m on my hands and knees.  He, facing my backside, spreads my outer labia apart then reaches his mouth forward and begins sucking on my inner labia.  His warm breath against my flesh really gets me going.  After he has spent some time sucking he stops and asks me to lie on my back.

While there, I watch him –candlelight casting light and shadow against his body, as he descends between my legs, but now he is biting and gently nibbling on my clit. Holy fuck!  He is teasing the hell out of me –pulling it between his teeth…just the way I like it.  It feels so fucking good that I am ready to cum when he stops yet again –suspending my climax.  I start to get a little frustrated, then John tells me he wants show me he loves me in one more way.  “I want you to pretend my head is a chair and sit on my face.”

I nearly wet myself at the request, but quickly comply, knowing that this shit can only get better.  He lies on the bed, with his head on the pillows and I straddle his face and hold onto the headboard.  John lifts me off of him, “That’s not the way I want you to sit on me –turn around.”

I climb off then back on, in the opposite direction.  I hold onto his chest as his thumbs pull apart both sets of lips, his fingers massage my clit and his tongue makes it way into my pussy.  He is licking the outside with the length of his tongue and flicking inside with just the tip –I know there are no more ways in which he is going to show me his love and I squat further onto him, letting him love me a little deeper.  The tip of his nose stimulates my ass just enough, and I cross the threshold and cum in his mouth, again and again.

Sixty Second Sexcapade: Anchors Aweigh

The spring semester of my Freshman year in college, I had the opportunity to visit my Aunt in Long Island.  Every three months she makes a trek into the City of Manhattan, to buy various things for her Antique store.  She shops out every store from Neiman-Marcus to the Salvation Army looking for just the ‘right thing’ with which to stock her shelves.

During my childhood, she would take me with her as official assistant, in charge of holding all the bags –and I loved it.  I always managed to get a trinket or two in the bargain. But there was something different about that day –starting with the trip into the city –I can’t forget.  The Long Island Railroad was delayed for nearly and hour and a half, and when we finally got on it, it was crowded –more so than normal –so was Grand Central Station and the rest of the city.  The island of Manhattan is home to a lot of people, but for some reason there seemed to be a surplus, that particular day. 

As we strolled down the cobble stones of South Street Seaport and reached one of her favorite shops, we found the answer to all the people –it was Fleet Week, and the USS Abraham along with its battle group, just docked and the city was inundated with Sailors –all shapes and sizes –all colors and flavors –I felt like a kid in a candy store.

As they disembarked and moved in among the Manhattaners, my mind began to swirl with the Naval possibilities.  I imagine my aunt leaving me in the city for the night.  I go to a bar and meet three of the sexist sailors –all dressed in their white Cracker Jack outfits.  They pay for drinks the entire night and when its last call, we leave the bar, but I cannot remember how to get back to my aunts home.

One of the sailors suggests that I join them back on the ship –it is safe, and I can leave first thing in the morning.  I agree, but there is only one problem –how to get me on.  Another of the three has an extra uniform in his pack and I get dressed.  They tell the Quarter Deck Watchstander that I was injured and they need to help me back to my sleeping area.

Once on board, we make our way into the hull of the ship, it’s very noisy and we enter a sound proof room, just beyond the engine room, with a single chair. One of the sailors starts to kiss me, when another pulls him away in order to do the same.  The three of them quarrel because each wants his turn with me first. “Why argue boys, when you can all have me –”

“At the same time?” The one who has been most quiet all evening speaks up. I am taken aback by the question, but I nod my head and all three smile. The three men huddle up and whisper, then they turn to me and begin undressing.  When they finish, I strip for my private audience of three.  “Would you have a problem with being tied up?”  One inquires.

“No.”  Where I stand, one of the men takes a black neckerchief –that is part of his uniform, and ties the ends around each of my ankles, leaving about 6-inches of slack between the ties.  A second sailor uses his sash to tie my hands behind my back, and the third uses his to blind fold me.

I feel one of the men slide between my ankles, while another moves under my tied arms and up against my back. A set of hands on my shoulders, push me to squatting and the man between my legs enters my vagina.  He holds my waist, and lifts and lowers me up and down his shaft.  The movement stops and I am leaned forward by another set of hands.  The man within the ties of my arms spreads my ass cheeks apart and I feel him up against my asshole –his pre-cum smearing it before it enters.  I moan –there are fingers playing with clit, hands on breasts, hands in my hair, there are lips on my back, a dick in my pussy, a dick in my ass –I lick my lips just before dick number three enters my mouth.  I nearly gag, it enters so quickly and the three men start to fuck –all at once –each with their own rhythm –and I’m almost seasick.  Suddenly, their motions are synchronized and I enjoy the sensation of being stimulated in so many ways I lose count.  My rise to climax comes so quickly that it scares me –then I taste cum, and feel it in my pussy and deep in my ass.  God Bless the Navy!

Sixty-Second Sexcapade: Can’t Touch This

I’ve been racking my brain for weeks trying to figure out what to give my husband, George for our anniversary –you’d figure that after being married to a person for 12 years, the gift giving would become easier, but it doesn’t.  After all, what do you give a man who has everything?

The one thing that I wish I could give him is time –there never seems to be enough of it.  Between work and the children, friends and family, community obligations or just things that come up in everyday chaos; I’d like to give him a moment in time that he would always remember, and that we could always relive, whenever we felt the inclination.

 When the day starts winding down, and the children had settled for the night, I steal away to the bedroom, leaving George reading or watching the television. After dressing in the new black lace nightgown I bought especially for the occasion, I slip on my favorite black thong, light scented candles and place them around the darkened bedroom and bathroom.  I start the water in the shower –hot, just the way I like it… then I head for George.

Entering the room where he is relaxing after our day together, I stand there watching him…adoring him…loving him, the way I had so many years ago –the day we became one.  And as I did, the night we became man and wife.  

When he notices me across the room, I slip off the thong and saunter over to him, never breaking eye contact.  Taking my panties in hand, I spread the crotch in front of him –he inhales slowly and as he exhales, I watch his nature rise.  George is tempted to touch me, but I stop him and whisper in his ear that the show is about to begin.  I step back from him and remove the nightgown so he can see all of me.  Rubbing my hands over my breasts, I squeeze them before my thumbs stroke each nipple –pulling them taut, then letting them bounce back.

I tell George there is one seat left for the show, and I’ll gladly escort him to his chair.  He follows me to the bathroom and sits.  Once in there, I tell him the final rule: he can’t touch until the show is over.  As I get into the shower, George undresses.  He is fully erect, and I am in rare form; I swear, if George only knew how arousing I find the scent of vanilla riding on the misty steam of a shower, he’d never let me leave the bedroom.

When I step into the shower, I let the hot water fall across my body and rub down my flesh.  I turn away from him.  George is curious as to what I have in store.  I pour out a small amount of Jasmine scented body oil into my palms and begin to massage my ass.  I rub each cheek individually then spread them apart at the same time giving George a sneak peak at the finale.

When I turn to face him, he his stroking his dick in long deliberate strokes…the show isn’t over.  I pour out some more oil, but this time, letting it drip from the bottle onto my breasts –following the streams of water over my body.  I move my hands down across my breasts eventually to my pussy, and massage my clitoris all under his watchful gaze.

I invite him into the shower and squeeze some of the oil onto his chest, allowing it to drip onto him slowly.  I touch him –smoothing the oil into his skin:  his nipples, his neck, his shoulders and arms.  I pour a little more onto him, but this time on his dick.  I take it in hand and stroke him –down his length to his balls, briefly interrupting the flow for a quick juggle, before I rub up his shaft, applying slight pressure along the upper curvature.  I make it to the head where I use two hands –one to continue stroking him, the palm of the other rubbing in a circular motion down on the head.  George is feeling it as am I, and I’m ready to fuck.

I stop the caresses and turn away from him.  I back my ass up to him and shift it from side to side then up and down.  His dick is between my legs.  I bend over and tell him the show is over and he has permission to touch.

Sixty-Second Sexcapade: Is There Room for One More?

Every morning I am late for work.  Even when I make it in the building on time, I still must wait for the elevator to take me to the 23^rd floor –the elevator ride is long enough, but waiting among the masses that are populated with people each trying to make it to their respective floor by 9 am, is what makes me late.  Yes, I could wake up an hour early –that would put my alarm time at four in the morning and journey into the city, but my bullshit job doesn’t pay me enough; so I am content with being 5 to 10 minutes late, rather than being an hour early.

For the last month or so, I’ve really been making an effort to be on time –well, not exactly on time for work per se, just early enough to catch the elevator, with the fine Samoan dude, Frank, that works in accounting.  He just transferred to our company’s corporate headquarters in Chicago from our branch office in Hawaii –he graduated from the University of Hawaii where he was a star football player.  And if that doesn’t make his sexy ass fine enough, he possesses a business degree with a concentration in finance; he minored in accounting.

Everyday, I just miss the elevator with Frank in it.  I imagine my morning starts off the same way:  I run through the lobby and push my way through the crowd only for the elevator doors to close just before I reach.  Then, perhaps the sensors pick up some sort of interference, and the doors open.  Frank has pushed the open door button to the outbursts of the other angry riders and he tells me, “Come on in…there is room for one more.”  I look at the other riders who are visibly upset that the car has been delayed, then back at Frank.  “Come on,” he says again, “I’ll make myself small.”  He turns from the space in front of me to face the interior of the elevator, and sure enough he has created a space, although quite small, yet large enough in which I can fit –and I squeeze in, in front of him –I too face the interior of the car.

Frank shifts slightly to accommodate me and I am cradled in his chest.  I shift to create some space between the man before me and his briefcase that continues to hit my knee.  I move back as far as I can onto Frank.  He whispers in my ear, “Every time you move like that, you’re make me hard.”  I apologize.  The elevator stops on the 12^th floor.  People get off, but the man with the briefcase doesn’t move, I stand, as still as I can, with Frank’s dick pressed hard against me.  Thirteenth floor;   I can feel his breath on my neck, and I am aroused.  I rub my ass against his dick deliberately, to and fro, then apologize.

The elevator reaches the 16^th floor and stops again. The man with the briefcase gets out, along with everyone except Frank and me.  He turns me around in the empty elevator and I face him.  He squats a little and reaches up the hem of my full-length skirt, and pulls down my panties.  I step out of them.  We’re on the 17^th floor.  Frank rubs his hands up the back of my thighs, as he makes his way to standing.  In one fell swoop, he lifts me up and holds me under my thighs.  He carries me to the corner of the elevator, pinning me against the walls; I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. We’re on the 18^th floor.

Using his chest to stabilize the two of us, he holds me with one arm, while the other unzips his pants.  I feel his dick enter me. Frank starts to fuck, and his heavy breathing on my neck gets me going. With every stroke, I take in his entire length.  It is so fucking good my toes curl.  I look up at the floor and we are on the 19^th.  He starts to fuck faster.  We reach the 20^th. The rocking motions hit my clit just right, and I cum, fast and hard –floor 21; so does he –floor 22.   By the time we have reached the 23^rd floor and the doors open, we are fully dressed and ready to walk out.  I exit first with Frank close behind.  I turn back to get one last look at him before I start the workday, and we exchange smiles of gratitude “I’ll hold the elevator for you tomorrow.”  I wink, because it is the first time since I was hired for the job, that I’ve made it to work on time.

Sixty -Second Sexcapade: Fill Her Up With Diesel

There is only one man I fantasize about –Vin Diesel.  I have many day dreams about him, but my favorite is this:  Vin and I are long time friends –he has written a script for which he believes I would be ideal, and he invites me to his mansion in Los Angeles to look over the screenplay and to negotiate a possible deal.

Vin is an avid weightlifter, and he invites me to work out with him several mornings but I politely decline because I prefer to run.  One morning, I finish my run in relatively good time, and decide that I will hit the weights with him.  When I go into the exercise room, he’s already gone –there is a faint odor of sweat in the air and I am immediately aroused.  I debate whether or not to touch myself there, but opt not to –I don’t want him to catch me, fantasizing about him, while I pleasure myself.  I make my way back to my room, and shower –where find that I am out of lotion.  Wrapped only in a towel I walk down the hallway to his room.

I catch a whiff of aloe vera and honeysuckle –the scent of shower gel floating on the steamy mist of a shower.  His door is ajar and I knock lightly, but he doesn’t answer.  I call his name but still there is no response.  I push the door enough to peek my head in and there he is, laid across his king size bed –arms outstretched, legs spread apart and completely naked. Vin has just showered and fallen asleep on the white down comforter that covers his bed.  His shaft is so fucking big, that it would take two hands to form the circumference of a circle in your palms, and it is so fucking long that it hangs over part of his thigh.  My nipples harden at the sight of him; I consider showering again because I am so wet for him that I am dripping.  I stare at him a minute longer and leave because I would hate for my host to catch me invading his privacy.  I pull the door to where I had found it and start off down the hallway.

“Alexis.”  My name is called.  I turn around and enter the room without knocking.  Vin is still asleep, but he is stroking his dick, from balls to head, which is now fully erect.  He calls out my name again and moans.  I lick my lips, watching him masturbate.  The windows are all open and the white sheer curtains that hang from them sway slightly as a morning breeze comes in.

I unfurl my towel, place it on a chair and stand at the foot of the bed –naked.  He calls out my name yet again.  I realize that he is fantasizing about me in his dream while he’s masturbating.  I want to make every one of Vin’s dreams and every one of his fantasies come true, so I climb onto the bed between his legs and continue to crawl over him until my lower lips are licking his shaft.  Vin wakes and is pleasantly surprised as is evidenced by his smile.  I continue to kiss him with my labia –up and down his length, before he sits up.  “Quit teasing me.”  He begs.

His large hands grab my ass and he lifts me –up to the point I kneeling over him then down –so that I am situated on the head of his penis.  My lips spread around him and I slide all the way down to the point that I can feel him in my abdomen.  He lifts me up as if I weigh no more than a feather and pulls me down on him –hard.  I moan and so does he.

As Vin continues to lift and pull me, my hood rubs up against his firm abs and I feel like I am going to cum, but I don’t want to, so I reach my neck up where I am in a close enough proximity to kiss his mouth and I do.  He rubs his hands up my back until a hand reaches the nape of my neck thus stabilizing my head as his tongue plunges into my mouth.  I stroke my hands along his smooth sexy bald head and start to ride him; in short shallow stokes –just enough to take in his head, then deeper, taking in the entire length of his shaft, all the while rubbing my clit against him.  Vin cums –his dick pulsates deep inside, filling me with his ejaculatory fluid.  I’m instantly heightened to my sexual peek and cum all over his dick. “Wow!”  He exclaims in elation.  “I didn’t know you had it like that?”

“What?  You didn’t know that a Lexus could ride on Diesel?”

Sixty-Second Sexcapade: Touch & Taste

It’s hard to believe that Antoine and I have been married for 6 years. There were times I didn’t think we would get this far. Between work, the children and school or friends and family and community obligations, the autumn always seems to bring so much chaos that it’s often difficult to coordinate our schedules and find “us” time. But, somehow, we always manage to make it work.

It is at these moments, I find myself longing for the summer –the days, so many years ago, when we first got together. Especially those hot summer nights when we would spend hours talking and touching, teasing and pleasing each other to no end. The summer reminds me of ‘Toine –my fantasy is to tempt his taste buds with a picnic. After all, what epitomizes the summer more?

As the day begins to wind down, and the children have settled in for the night, I hand Antoine a note: The evening holds a lot of delicious possibilities; tonight, your senses will be pleasured like never before. The first item on the menu is relaxation. Why don’t you start with a shower? I can’t think of a better way for you to unwind. 

When he reaches the bathroom, there is a bottle of scented body wash along with a note that reads: Hmmm, thinking about you naked makes my mouth water. Enjoy a nice hot shower, but don’t take too long –dessert is almost ready.

When he comes out of the shower, he finds a bath towel, a pair of silk boxers and massage oil along with his third note: Dry yourself off, slip into the boxers and join me downstairs.  I want you to work up an appetite before you get something to eat.

As I put the finishing touches on the picnic, I hear him descend the final steps and take a seat on the red and white checkered picnic blanket when he enters the room.  The scene is absolutely beautiful: the candles have all been lit in the fireplace, the picnic basket is situated next to me and I am dressed in a new black negligee with a sheer bodice, accented elegantly with lace and a pair of stilettos.

Antoine stands at the entrance to the room wearing only the silk boxers and holding the bottle of massage oil. His eyes follow the seductive lines of my gown and I watch as his nature begins to rise.  He silently walks to the blanket and sits down behind me, with his back to the chaise lounge.  ‘Toine kisses the nape of my neck before his fingers delicately pull down the thin straps of my gown. Pouring the oil into his palms, he rubs them together to warm it, and then places his hands on my shoulders, massaging me –getting me aroused.

“This is nice.”  He speaks softly, waking me from my erotic trance.

“It’s just the beginning.”  When he finishes the massage, I open the picnic basket and pull out our favorite bottle of wine along with two wineglasses and the bottle opener.  Antoine wastes no time popping the cork on the bottle and pouring each of us a glass.  I allow him to finish his drink before I hand him a box; enclosed he finds a blindfold and the final note: Now that your palate is wet, it’s time to play a little game of Touch and Taste.

“Touch ‘n Taste?”  ‘Toine asks inquisitively with a tone of playfulness in his voice as he curls the edge of his upper lip just enough, indicating that his mind is swirling with ideas. He licks his lips then continues, “I don’t think I know the rules to that game.” 

“There are only three –” I reply.  “Rule number one: I blind fold you, and you must remain blindfolded for the entire game.”  I take the long sheer scarf from Antoine, and as he closes his eyes, I fold the fabric and gently wrapped it around him tying it securely behind his head.  “Rule number two: I touch your lips with a body part of mine that has been dipped in something delectable and you taste what I put in your mouth.” 

“Hmmm.” ‘Toine moans as he licks his lips again, but this time with purpose. “And three?”

“That’s the hard part –” I lean over to Antoine, gently brushing my lips against his ear, and whisper, “Rule number three: You tell me what you’ve tasted and what body part has touched you.”  I wait to note his reaction; he smiles in delight, leaning his head back to the seat behind him, and then raises it again. “Are you game?” I question.

 “Ready when you are.”  Antoine eagerly responds and we begin. 

I start with something easy.  “I got –” He answers quickly. “That’s peanut butter, and it’s on your finger.”  I congratulate and move onto the next temptation.

“Hmmm –that’s gotta be chocolate syrup on your ear lobe.”

“Two for two, I need to make these a little harder,” I jest.  Onto his next taste.

“I’m gonna have to taste that one again –I know what I’m tasting, but I need another touch.  I give ‘Toine another sample, and he makes his guess, “The taste is frosting?”

“Yes –go on.”  I encourage.

“Is the touch your chin?”

“Very good –are you sure you’re not peeking?”  I kiss him then move onto temptation number four.

“Boy, am I glad I’m a titty-man –” He smiles.

Before he has the chance to guess the taste, I interrupt, “Which one?” 

“I knew you were gonna ask that.”

“Okay, which one?”  I insist.

“Put it back in my mouth and I’ll tell you.”  I touch him again but this time without the added taste, and he begins to suck –slowly at first then with an increasing pressure, taking most of my areola into his mouth, then I pull back. “What? No ice-cream.” He asks.

“You’ve guessed the taste, but which nipple did you touch?”  ‘Toine inhales, contemplating his answer and smiles as he exhales, “Easy –your left one.”  He answers proudly.

“You can see, can’t you?” I interrogate playfully.

“Naw –it’s too dark in here for me to see –”

“Then how’d you guess?”

“I had a 50 percent chance of getting it right –”

“I suppose.”  I concede.

“But I know which one is which –” He teases, and my curiosity is peaked  “The left one is closest to me when you sleep –do you know how many times I’ve taken a mid-night suck on that one?”  My jaw drops in surprise at my husbands little revelation –his dirty talk makes me wet and I am inclined to rush through the rest of the game, but refuse and continue to play.

“All right, ‘Toine –figure out what this one is.”  I dip the sample and give it to him.

“Hmmm?”  He’s stumped.

“Not as easy as you’d thought it’d be, huh?”  I kiss him and ask if he would like another try.  Antoine agrees but is still perplexed.

“It almost tastes like honey.”  He speaks with a tone of uncertainty in his voice.

“Very good, and the touch?” I inquire.

“I don’t know –your heel?”  He guesses.

“No –think higher.”

“Elbow?”  He is still confused.

“Strike two.”

“Baby –I don’t know –your shoulder?”

“Very good.”  I give him another congratulatory kiss and move onto the next temptation.

“Hmmm –” He inhales deeply before I press the taste to his lips. “Are we almost finished?”  He asks impatiently.  “You can’t imagine how horny I am right now.”

“The game is almost over,” I console. “But you need to make your guess.”

“Whipped cream on your thigh –Please don’t ask me which one.”  He begs.

“And this –” I don’t even wait to praise ‘Toine before I give him the next test and try not to prolong his agony.

“Right nipple and that chocloately-nut spread.” 

“It’s Nutella –and you’re correct.”

“We finished now?”  ‘Toine is really feeling it and as slips his hand down the waistband of the boxers and pulls out his dick.

“Just one more.”  I smile and watch his physical reaction to the approaching stimulation –his breathing his heavy as he licks his lips, wetting both top and bottom in anticipation, and he strokes the length of his shaft –from the head to his balls and back up again.  I give him his final temptation, allowing him to time to touch and taste, while I patiently wait for his response. 

Antoine’s tongue laps the tender folds of flesh in his mouth as he alternates between sucking and kissing.  I feel him swallow, drinking what I have to offer –quenching his thirst. ‘Toine runs his fingers through my hair, playing in the tiny curls before his hands find their way to my cheeks, holding me tenderly yet firmly in place, as his tongue enters sending me to ecstasy. 

Sixty-Second Sexcapade: School Daze

I’ve been partying my ass off from the first night my parents dropped me off at Statesboro College which is a small liberal arts college of my choosing. As a general education class, all Freshmen must take a cross-curriculum perspective course in order to fulfill one of the requirements for a bachelor’s degree. For almost a week, I’ve gotten up with a hangover and by the time it came to register for classes, I checked Intro to Civics instead of Civic Responsibility; my moment of absentmindedness, landed me in a classroom full of misfits and frat house rejects.  A minute or so, after I realized I was in the wrong class, I made tracks for the door.  I was just about out, when I bumped into a Senior who is built like a linebacker, and whom I had not seen at any of the parties; he apologized for what was obviously my mistake and as I watched him enter the room, I was awestruck. 

Dressed in blue jeans, a white t-shirt with and a black leather jacket, the dark haired stranger walked to the podium, apologized to the class for being tardy, and then he introduced himself: Dr. Christopher Morrison.  I returned to my seat.  It’s official: I have decided to change my major to Political Science.  I swear I could fuck Dr. Morrison for the hour and 17 minutes he is supposed to teach, twice a week for the 16-week semester.

God how I wish I had an hour alone with him –shit I’d take 20 minutes, as sexy as he is.  After he dismisses class, I would be one of the first to leave, and as the room emptied I return pretending to have forgotten to ask him a question about the lecture.  As we make our way back to the podium, I drop my pen and bend over –all the way over to pick it up. The mini-skirt I’m wearing is short, revealing panties with a sheer back bottom.

I feel his hands rub against the thin mesh before I stand and walk to the podium.  He is close behind me.  Chris’ arms are strong and he turns me to face him then lifts me on top of the stand.  He leans in to kiss me; and his kiss is like his touch -rough, but I enjoy it. He reaches up my skirt and tears off my panties.  Chris spreads my legs before him and inserting his forefinger into my vagina, starts to finger fuck me.

I unbutton my sweater and unhook my bra.  Chris uses his free hand to touch my breasts –squeezing and pinching each in turn before he bites down on the nipple pulling it taut between his teeth.  He removes his finger, replacing it with the thrusting movements of his tongue.  I run my hands through his hair as his tongue licks and sucks the mounds of flesh. The five o’clock shadow that has started three hours early arouses me beyond words, and I cum, pouring every drop into his mouth.

Chris lifts me from the pedestal and turns me over so that my breasts are pressed up along the wooden incline surface.  As my legs hang off the back, he separates them, forcing each to hang over the sides.   I feel as though I am about to slide off the podium when I feel Chris' cock –the head is so far under me that it rests near my pubic bone.

He tilts it upward, pulling it back toward him –through my outer labia, inner labia eventually plugging the entrance to my hole before shoving it in.  Chris rubs his hands across my back, over my shoulders and to the leading edge of the stand and grips it tight.  He withdraws and starts to fuck me –every stroke is full penetration and he is giving my pussy a work out. 

Chris leans against my back and is hitting it deeper and harder.  My clit rubs the smooth polished wood and I can’t get enough of him –burrowing his yard stick into my pussy.  He picks up the pace and the podium is rocking against the tiled floor.  He cums and continues to fuck me until I bathe his cock in my juice.

Sixty-Second Sexcapade: Cougar Town

What a week this has been –I have been planning a graduation party for the one and only man in my life for the past 18 years –my son Derrick, and boy am I glad that it is over.   I was married to Derrick’s good-for-nothing father for ten years –and we couldn’t conceive.  The doctors said that there was no biological reason why I shouldn’t be able to conceive, but over the ten years we were married, and the 2 years we were dating before that, it never happened.

It was Thanksgiving weekend 1986 that Trevor decided he no longer wanted to be married, and I remember it clearly.  I had driven up to my parents’ cabin by the lake in late November to close it up for the winter, when Trevor showed up unexpectedly.  We had been having a rough time of it for about 6 months at that point –I wanted to start in vitro fertilization and he wanted to start adoption proceedings.

Those four nights (Wednesday through Saturday) that we spent up at the cabin, were the most magical of our entire marriage.  We laughed and drank, ate and fucked like you would not believe.  The only other time Trevor and I fucked that much, was in college –the year the football team on which he played went undefeated all season –we used to sneak off behind the bleachers to get in a quickie before the celebrating started.

After our four marathon nights of lovemaking, Sunday morning Trevor needed to leave early because there was an emergency at his office.  As I finished up the last bit of cleaning, I found a note that Trevor had left for me –he had always left little notes around the house with expressions of love written in them.  His note was no more than four lines and read that he was leaving me for his girlfriend of four years –she was more of a woman than I would ever be because she was pregnant.  I was so devastated, I cried non-stop for two weeks straight.  It had gotten so bad that I was admitted to the hospital and four weeks later, I had gotten the news that I had waited over ten years to hear –I was pregnant.

Well, Enough about Trevor, and back to Derrick and his party.  It was phenomenal, if I do say so myself.  We went with a Hawaiian Luau theme –complete with tiki torches and a roasted pig over a pit.  The guys all wore Hawaiian shirts and swim trunks while the girls dressed in bathing suits and grass skirts –set against the backdrop of our pool, it was the perfect bash.  I, dressed in a grass skirt and a coconut bra, played hostess and almost had a little bash of my own. 

I have dated a few men over the years, but none of them have ever turned me on like Derrick’s friend Drew.  He is tall and cute, and has a body on him.  I go into the kitchen to put out more snacks for the partygoers, and I can’t reach a bowl on the top shelf.  Just then Drew enters and asks if he can help me with anything.  I indicate that the bowl is just out of reach.  Instead of stepping past me, he comes up behind me and reaches over me and retrieves the bowl.  He places it on the counter, and after doing so, he doesn’t move.  As I close the cupboard, his hands move around me to the counter top.  His shirt is unbuttoned, and I feel his smooth hairless chest against the skin on my back and his young hard penis through the blades of my skirt. 

When I face him he kisses me.  I stop the kissing because I am afraid that Derrick will walk in on us, but through the sliding doors, I can see that the cookout has now turned into a pool party with all the graduates in the pool, minus one –Drew.  He tells me that he has fantasized about being with me since he was twelve, and I tell him that I couldn’t possibly be more to him than his friend’s mother, but that doesn’t stop him. 

Drew kisses me again, but this time, instead of playing with my tongue, he thrusts his tongue all the way to the back of my mouth.  He pushes his hips forward and his penis, pressed against my abdomen.  I squirm in response.  I break away, looking for Derrick, but I see him cannonball into the water. Without missing a beat, Drew lifts me to the counter to where I am wedged between the cupboard and the side of the pantry.  

Drew’s hands move with a level of skill as they separate the blades of grass in my skirt –I’m not wearing any underwear. He lowers his trunks just enough to remove his cock.  He lifts my feet to the counter, and before I know it he is in me –I’m both frightened and excited.  I’m at the perfect height for him, and as he sticks me, the combination of the fear and excitement awaken a passion in me that I have never felt.  I lose all sense of propriety and using my arms to anchor me, I slide my butt off the counter.  I begin to ride this young wild stallion all the way back to the stable.  He bucks a few last times hitting my g-spot and I cum –I’ve broken him in. 

We kiss one last time, before he returns turns, with the bowl of chips, to the party.  I gather a few more things to bring outside, and when I turn around Trevor is standing before me.

“Why don’t you leave these little boys alone, and take a real man for a ride.”  He nears me and kisses my cheek. “If I ever knew you could fuck like that, I never would have left you.”

“If you ever had a cock like these little boys, Trevor, I never would have let you go!”

Sixty-Second Sexcapade: Like Father, Like Son

My fantasy is a situation which I struggled with for nearly a year.  After a divorce that ended my two year marriage, I moved to Colorado for a fresh start –I wanted to move as far away from my ex-husband as possible. Perched high in the Rocky Mountains, Colorado offered a great deal for me, both professionally and socially –especially during my favorite season–winter. 

The weekend of my 29^th birthday a few friends and I went on a ski trip.  On my second time down the slope, I skied, literally, into a man and knocked him over.  I landed squarely on top of him and I couldn’t stop apologizing.  I helped him up to sitting and when he removed his hat and goggles, I was in love.  Phillip was 37 and had the deepest brown eyes.  He wore his dark brown hair, with a few gray ones, nicely cut.  He also had a beard and mustache that was trimmed short and neat–with only a few graying hairs.  He made me promise to have dinner with him when I asked how I could make up for the accident.  That night, while the rest of his party was out for a nighttime ski, we had dinner in his cabin, which was followed by dessert again and again until morning. 

The next afternoon while enjoying cocoa by the fire with my friends, two young men approached us.  The cuter of the two sat next to me and began flirting.  He was attractive, but 21 was just a little too young for me.  He finally cooled his engines when Phillip came over with two fresh cups of cocoa (with marshmallows of course) and handed one to me –not before kissing me on the lips.  “She’s already spoken for son.”  Jay, the 21 year old, was Phillip’s son.  He fathered him while he was still in high school. 

Phillip and I started dating, and always had a great time –both in and out of the bedroom, but broke up after a year.  Why?  Jay continually hit on me, and I grew tired of fighting his advances, so I left.  Like the good girlfriend, I told Phil every time Jay made a pass at me, but he insisted that Jay just had a crush and that he would get over it in time.  He never did. Fighting the temptation, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with both of them, but I really wanted to. 

For a year, I fantasized about the three of us spending the weekend at the same ski lodge.  I would imagine that Phillip leaves Jay and me alone in the cabin while he goes for an early morning ski.  I wake to find him gone and head for the bathroom.  Exhausted from the skiing the night before, I take a steamy shower to help soothe my aching muscles.  When I step out of the shower, there is Jay, naked.  “I was hoping I could join you.”  He flirts.

“Your father will be back any moment.”  He walks to me, and pushes his chest up against my breasts, and I step back into the shower stall.  Jay turns on the water and leans against the wall opposite the door.  As the water showers us, he pulls me to him; his dick, as big as his father’s, presses into me.  Jay squats a little, enough to lower his penis to the space between my legs and enters me.  I’m too short for him and I tippy-toe to accommodate for his length.  I lower my feet to standing, then back up onto the balls in order to fuck him.  I feel a dick slid between my ass cheeks before a hairy chest presses up against my back.  It’s Phillip –he lifts my wet hair off my back before he kisses my neck. 

“Shit, son –I was beginning to think you would never get her to fuck you.”  Startled, I try to squirm off of Jay, but Phil stops me.  He spreads my checks apart and sticks his cock right up my ass. He holds onto my shoulders, raising me onto the balls of my feet, then down again –he wants me to fuck both him and his son at the same time.

I proceed, slowly at first, then Jay kisses me deeply, and Phillip fondles my clit and I quicken my pace, filling myself with both father and son.  Phil cums first, while I still fuck Jay.  And like a chain reaction, I cum, with Phillip still in my ass, and then Jay cums, causing me to orgasm again.