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.