Short Stories

[Glen2712]

I woke up with a start to...

I woke up with a start to-nothing! Pitch-black darkness. An eerie silence, except for the insistent throbbing of the blood vessels inside my own head. I looked around, trying to make out my surroundings. Nothing. The muscles in my arms and legs ached. I tried to rub them, and that's when I realized I was strapped naked, immobile, to a bed. What the fuck?! Think, buster! Dammit! Think! My mind was a blur, a haze. It was coming back to me. World Cup Sunday at the local sports bar. Beers for breakfast. Then the televised match began. I'm a second-generation Italian-American, so you know who the hell I was rooting for in a sea of hot chicks.

When Italy beat France-on penalty kicks after 120 minutes produced only a tie on the pitch and excessive imbibing by every patron-it was like I could have my pick of dames. I chose the busty Carmen Electra lookalike packed into a blue "ITALIA" T-shirt, who insisted on buying us shot after shot to celebrate. My tongue felt like it was growing mothballs. I heard the door crack open. A sliver of light. I strained my arms and legs again to no avail, but for some reason I wasn't panicking. I was forgetting something about yesterday-or was it just earlier this afternoon?

The door closed, and darkness returned, but not before I could make out lush curves, long hair…the Italian babe! It had to be. Apparently, my dick remembered everything. It stiffened immediately. I was half-hard by the time the hottie made it to the bed and fully erect by the time I felt her fiery breath move up and down my shaft and caress my ball sac. Without sight and freedom of movement, every sensation seemed heightened.

Now some kind of soft bristles were grazing my prick cap, brushing up and down and around, over my nuts and back to tickle my starfish. Fuck, that felt good! A clearer picture filtered through my brain fog. "Carmen" and I had ended up at her place, downing champagne and engaging in foreplay chatter. You know, the wildest thing you've ever done, things you've never done, things you'd like to do. And then-I don't know-I must have passed out cold. The bristles-a paintbrush maybe?-were soon replaced by strands of long hair, swishing back and forth over my privates.

The doll straddled me and, starting at my forehead, moved slowly down my body. Waves of silky locks tickled my nose-the girl smelled like strawberries-and teased my nipples tight. Her hair caressed my belly, my throbber, my legs-all the way to the soles of my feet. One by one she sucked my toes into her mouth, then licked both arches. Oh, God! My pecker reached for the ceiling. I guess, drunk, I must have mentioned the bondage fantasy I'd nursed since my freshman year in college. Mmmmmm, it was way better than I'd dreamed. Ms. Italia had discovered erogenous zones I'd never known existed! I didn't dare speak for fear of breaking the spell. Instead, I tried to push my hips off the mattress, silently begging.

The invisible vamp kissed her way up my legs, pausing to tongue the back of each knee. Finally, I felt her hot breath on my cock again. Please, please suck it! She did, her lips inching lower and lower till they were buried in my pubes. Over and over, her tongue slapped around my shaft; then her teeth nibbled my mushroom. It was like I had never truly experienced a blowjob before. As she hoovered me into her clutching throat, sharp fingernails skimmed my scrotum and traced circles around my anus.

My whole world was centered on the jezebel's expert mouth. I was about to come, and then she suddenly stopped, climbed off me and left the room. Fuck! Five minutes later-I was literally counting the seconds-the light came on, and I got to watch the busty chick (sans the "ITALIA" shirt and panties) straddle my pulsing fuck-stick.

Soon her shaved pussy slipped over the crown, easing me into her warm, wet, heavenly confines. I wanted to fuck the bitch forever, but I knew there was no way I could last. An intense heat radiated from just behind my nuts through my entire body, my entire being. I could feel the jizz blast up my shaft into the lovely soccer fan's clenching cunt. Go, Italy!

[Glen2712]

I was Onstage

I was onstage, shaking my tush to “Erotic City,” when I first noticed him. Tall, dark and handsome. Nice build too. Definitely not the usual customer in this strip mall strip club. He took a seat at the pussy bar just as Tony, one of my regulars, was pressing his face into my heinie.

Tony genuinely loved to sniff my rosebud, and he paid well for the privilege. So, hey, no complaints, right? With Tony’s crisp $20 bill tucked under my G-string, I swiveled my hips over to Mr. Tall and Dark. His sky-blue eyes locked onto my cleavage, and I shook my 36Cs and teased my bra straps down my shoulders. He looked suitably impressed, his mouth dropping slightly open, and that made my clit tingle.

See, unlike most of my co-workers, I fuckin’ love my job. I crave the attention and the spotlights, the throbbing music. Love all those eyes roaming over my fine body. It makes me feel desirable, powerful—mmm, hot. There are nights I climax dancing, and the pussy jizz streams down my thighs. Special customers get to swipe juice up with their fingers and taste me. I taste myself. But back to what I was saying: Money, excitement, power—what’s not to love about this job? Seldom, however, do I cross the line and fuck a customer.

Gazing at this stranger, I had a feeling that tonight I was going to make an exception. I thought about the size and shape of his cock as I sank into the splits in front of him. With a slightly crooked, very sexy smile, he fished a 50 out of his sport coat. Before he could hand it to me politely, I grabbed his wrist and guided his hand—and Mr. Grant—under my G-string. I gasped when his fingertips brushed my slit. My nips hardened into tight titty buttons. Leaning over, I whispered, “Stick around, handsome. You won’t be sorry.”

Then I sprang to my feet, got butt naked and fucked the pole, performing every nasty move I knew to give the crowd—especially Handsome—a big, fat boner. By the time I left that stage, I was so horny, I had to take the edge off by fucking an empty champagne bottle in the dressing room. Good, but no substitute for the real thing. I proceeded to go looking for it. Handsome had moved to a booth—smart man. I took his hand and led him to a secluded spot.

En route I slipped Freddy, the bouncer, a healthy tip to make sure we wouldn’t be disturbed. I wasn’t planning to charge my new friend, but when he held up two C- notes, well, I took ’em. (There was this pair of Jimmy Choos I’d been eyeing all week.) Then I asked him what he’d like. Handsome told me that I bore a striking resemblance to his rich, frigid, no-blowjobs-or-anal, missionary-only-once-a-week wife. He wanted to call me Irene.

Whatever. I kind of felt sorry for the man, and right then and there I promised myself to give him the best blowjob and butt-fuck of his entire life. First things first. Pushing Handsome back onto the couch, I quickly stripped off his pants and briefs. He had nice, tight balls and a pretty cock. My tongue traced figure eights over his nut sac, swirled up and down and around his shaft. Lifting his thighs over my shoulders, I tongue-dicked his anus, jamming my taster in as far as I could.

Soon he was moaning, “Fuck, Irene! Irene, fuck!” When I finally swallowed his prod, the fella acted like he’d never been sucked off before, bucking his hips off the sofa, dicking my throat. I pulled back before he could come and squeezed the base of his slammer as I dribbled saliva all over the crown. Then I turned around and sat my ass down on that fat throbber. It was the biggest dick I’d ever taken back there. My dirt chute felt so full, so good. He reached around to twist my nipples as I rode his log.

When two of his fingers pinched my clit, that was all she wrote. I was coming. I squeezed my butt chute tight around his rod, and then he was blasting too. Spraying my pooper with semen, he cried, “Irene, Irene.” When all was said and done, Handsome even tipped me an extra hundred. Like I said: Money, excitement, power—what’s not to love?

[Glen2712]

Broken Vinyl

At about 6 p.m. I unlocked the door to my bachelor pad. Broken CDs littered the carpet and oh, no, what the fuck?! Not my Japanese vinyl! I picked up one of the LPs, a rare R.E.M. Dazed, I followed the path of destruction through the living room and down the hall. It stopped at the bedroom door. Hesitantly, I peered inside.

Squatting on the bed was my new girlfriend, Elise, wearing bobby socks, a plaid miniskirt and white-cotton panties that barely covered the moons of her ass. Beside her lay a small paddle, and I discerned a dark, wet spot at her crotch. I would have smiled if I hadn?t been so fuckin? pissed. Elise didn?t move, didn?t look at me. Her face was turned to the wall as she murmured in a soft, childish voice: 'I've been so bad, Michael. Punish me!' My shooter twitched in my jeans. Had she run across my secret stash of kinky pornography, or was this her thing? It didn't much matter.

Moving to the bed, I traced a finger along the edge of her panties. Mmmmm. Elise had shaved her slit, making it smooth as silk. Unbuttoning my pants, I relieved the pressure on my pulsing hard-on. I was still carrying a broken record, and I rolled the edge down the doll?s butt crack. (Have I mentioned that Elise is only 19?) The jagged vinyl snagged her undies, and I tugged them down her firm, round globes till they reached her knees. Sitting on the bed, I pushed two big pillows beneath Elise's hips, jackknifing her high in the air. Then, finally, I picked up the wooden paddle and tested it against my hand. Whack! Nice. My honey was old school. No foam rubber here, just wood. When Elise whimpered, 'Please'? I raised the paddle high in the air, took aim and smack right in the center of her superb, alabaster derriere. Instead of striking her again right away, I then teasingly rolled the wooden slab over her reddening tush.

Soon Elise was squirming and begging for more. Ten solid blows turned the babe's booty beet red. She was moaning and groaning and liking this a little too much. So I stopped and slowly undressed. I couldn't help but admire my new sweetheart's petite frame, particularly her thrashed backside. 'Naughty?bad? need to come,?' she mumbled desperately. And in a moment of sudden inspiration I picked up the paddle and jammed the handle up her tight quim. Elise?s body started trembling, her scarlet fanny beckoning. Leaning over, I tongued her bum and lapped as much clam juices as I could. Mmmm. Growing concrete hard, my fat fuckstick demanded immediate attention. So I straddled Elise's thighs and dick-spanked her heinie. She started coming again! I was liking this chick more and more all the time.

Before her climax ended, I yanked out the paddle handle and replaced it with my stiff cock. I've never felt a hotter twat in my whole life! As I boned her doggy-style, it felt like her pussy muscles were rippling up and down my shaft?squeezing, massaging. My ball sac was dripping wet. I tried to hold back, but this fuck was too damn good. Within three minutes or so, streams of nut juice sprayed Elise's cunt walls before I thought to pull out and paint her ass. Seeing lines of white jism crisscrossing her crimson keister kept me hard.

In fact, it got me all emotional. Taking her from behind, I wedged my pipe into her crack and whispered in her ear, 'Elise, I think I love you.' Giggling, Elise turned her head for a kiss. Then she rolled me over and swished her long chestnut mane over my nipples and down my belly before twining strands around my prick, like silk rope. Teasing my balls with her nimble fingers, the naughty tart yanked her makeshift noose tighter. Finally, Elise dipped her tongue into my piss slit, blew hot air over my pecker and whispered, 'I think I love you too.'

[Glen2712]

It All Started As A Game

It all started as a game—flashing truckers for fun. Driving home cross-country, it helped to ease the boredom brought on by endless, sleepy stretches of blacktop. Especially across Texas. I was zipping along at 70, 80 miles per hour, in cutoff shorts and a skimpy halter, me in my little Miata with the top down. It was hot. I was hot. It had been days since I’d been laid, and the vibration of the engine was beginning to get to me. It was making my pussy pulse.

So when the hook came loose on my halter—like the damn thing was always doing—well, I let the fabric slip down over my breasts, let the wind tease my fat nipples erect. God, it felt good! I had just lifted one hand from the wheel to twist a titty bud when an 18-wheeler practically side-swiped me onto the shoulder. Asshole! But when I looked up, the trucker was grinning and ogling my titties, reaching to blast his air horn. And I’ll admit, it thrilled me.

I felt my clit press against the seam in my shorts. Smiling, I hefted a jug to my lips for a quick lick, then sped off down the highway. The next rest stop found me masturbating frantically in a lavatory stall, three fingers jammed into my quim, a hairbrush handle up my tush. I thought about that rugged trucker pawing my body—imagined him slapping my big boobs with his dick. It took me less than two minutes to climax so hard, my thighs shook. After that I was hooked. Oh, I didn’t expose my ta-tas to every trucker. Like I said, I made a game of it. It was kind of arbitrary.

Day One I just flashed drivers in Peterbuilts. The next day I decided to only show my hooters to truckers with mustaches. ’Course, as it turns out, damn near every semi driver in the Lone Star State has a mustache, and by noon I was hotter than a five-alarm fire in July. So I pulled into a truckstop, anxious to frig off in the semi-privacy of a rest room stall. I was rushing past the lunch counter when a big hand reached out and grabbed my arm. It was a bear of a man I recognized from about ten miles back, a trucker with a mustache. I wasn’t really scared, just surprised. When he took my hand and pressed it against the crotch of his jeans—against the long, hard bulge running down one thigh—I heard a moan. It was mine. “You did this to me, you know,” the hunk stated matter-of-factly.

My fingertips continued exploring. God, he was thick. “You know, lady,” the feller drawled, “I’ve got me a bed in my rig.” Five minutes later we were on the bunk in his cab, his face in my ass. That trucker was an amazing man. I had expected him to be all take, but he turned out to be all give. Rimming, pussy-licking. The man feasted on my twat like it was his last meal on Earth, making it crystal clear that he relished the taste. Nothing like the college nerds I was used to, who licked a little obligatory pussy in exchange for a blowjob. And the way his bristly mustache grazed back and forth over my sensitive clit—mmmmm.

The marvelous trucker pushed two fingers in alongside his tongue, and I was coming. I was still coming when his cock slammed all the way into my fuck box and stayed there. The stud said he could feel my pussy clutch around his prod. He went on to tell me how sexy I was, how hot and hard I made his log. Then slowly he started moving. Cupping my butt cheeks in his palms, he fucked me with long, deep strokes. The smell of sex and sweat filled the cab, and it was powerfully erotic. The stranger—I never did catch his name—was so strong and muscular, so masculine.

My orgasms streamed together till I felt like a rag doll in his arms, all weak and wonderful. His lunges grew faster. He asked me if I wanted him to pull out so he could come on me. I managed, “No—no, please!” right before his fingers gripped my ass cheeks, crushing me to him as he filled my cunt with boiling jism. It was, without doubt, the best sex of my life. I lapped my lover clean and left that rig completely sated. In fact, I didn’t flash another trucker...till the next morning.

[Glen2712]

It All Started As A Game

It all started as a game—flashing truckers for fun. Driving home cross-country, it helped to ease the boredom brought on by endless, sleepy stretches of blacktop. Especially across Texas. I was zipping along at 70, 80 miles per hour, in cutoff shorts and a skimpy halter, me in my little Miata with the top down. It was hot. I was hot. It had been days since I’d been laid, and the vibration of the engine was beginning to get to me. It was making my pussy pulse.

So when the hook came loose on my halter—like the damn thing was always doing—well, I let the fabric slip down over my breasts, let the wind tease my fat nipples erect. God, it felt good! I had just lifted one hand from the wheel to twist a titty bud when an 18-wheeler practically side-swiped me onto the shoulder. Asshole! But when I looked up, the trucker was grinning and ogling my titties, reaching to blast his air horn. And I’ll admit, it thrilled me.

I felt my clit press against the seam in my shorts. Smiling, I hefted a jug to my lips for a quick lick, then sped off down the highway. The next rest stop found me masturbating frantically in a lavatory stall, three fingers jammed into my quim, a hairbrush handle up my tush. I thought about that rugged trucker pawing my body—imagined him slapping my big boobs with his dick. It took me less than two minutes to climax so hard, my thighs shook. After that I was hooked. Oh, I didn’t expose my ta-tas to every trucker. Like I said, I made a game of it. It was kind of arbitrary.

Day One I just flashed drivers in Peterbuilts. The next day I decided to only show my hooters to truckers with mustaches. ’Course, as it turns out, damn near every semi driver in the Lone Star State has a mustache, and by noon I was hotter than a five-alarm fire in July. So I pulled into a truckstop, anxious to frig off in the semi-privacy of a rest room stall. I was rushing past the lunch counter when a big hand reached out and grabbed my arm. It was a bear of a man I recognized from about ten miles back, a trucker with a mustache. I wasn’t really scared, just surprised. When he took my hand and pressed it against the crotch of his jeans—against the long, hard bulge running down one thigh—I heard a moan. It was mine. “You did this to me, you know,” the hunk stated matter-of-factly.

My fingertips continued exploring. God, he was thick. “You know, lady,” the feller drawled, “I’ve got me a bed in my rig.” Five minutes later we were on the bunk in his cab, his face in my ass. That trucker was an amazing man. I had expected him to be all take, but he turned out to be all give. Rimming, pussy-licking. The man feasted on my twat like it was his last meal on Earth, making it crystal clear that he relished the taste. Nothing like the college nerds I was used to, who licked a little obligatory pussy in exchange for a blowjob. And the way his bristly mustache grazed back and forth over my sensitive clit—mmmmm.

The marvelous trucker pushed two fingers in alongside his tongue, and I was coming. I was still coming when his cock slammed all the way into my fuck box and stayed there. The stud said he could feel my pussy clutch around his prod. He went on to tell me how sexy I was, how hot and hard I made his log. Then slowly he started moving. Cupping my butt cheeks in his palms, he fucked me with long, deep strokes. The smell of sex and sweat filled the cab, and it was powerfully erotic. The stranger—I never did catch his name—was so strong and muscular, so masculine.

My orgasms streamed together till I felt like a rag doll in his arms, all weak and wonderful. His lunges grew faster. He asked me if I wanted him to pull out so he could come on me. I managed, “No—no, please!” right before his fingers gripped my ass cheeks, crushing me to him as he filled my cunt with boiling jism. It was, without doubt, the best sex of my life. I lapped my lover clean and left that rig completely sated. In fact, I didn’t flash another trucker...till the next morning.

[Glen2712]

Threeway Tit For Tat

Two big, fat, throbbing dicks--one pushing slowly to the back of my throat, the other stuffing my slit. Or maybe one thick slammer jamming my tight quim, and the other--not so big--spanking my ass before plugging my shitpit. Or, wait! Perhaps one cock could slide through my cleavage while I jacked a second one off with my feet? My tits are huge!

The possibilities were endless. For months it was all I could think about. I wanted--no, I needed--to be fucked by two men at once. I couldn't live without a threesome.

There was only one thing standing in the way: my husband, Raymond, a straitlaced bastard if there ever was one. Oh, I don't really mean the bastard part. We get along pretty well. Except that he's a lawyer--and a Republican. He does have a nice prick, though. My man has given me more orgasms in one night than I ever thought possible. But he's a Bible-thumping teetotaler, so I figured my fantasy was destined to stay just that.

But then, all of a sudden, a brainstorm hit me like a lightning bolt. Of course! If I could get darling hubby to participate in a love triangle with another woman, well, it would be pretty hard for him to refuse my wish. Right? Sure, Raymond might be conservative, but he's definitely all man. And, really, what guy is going to say no to two beautiful, naked women sprawled out on his bed, waiting for him?

I confided in the wildest woman I know--Myra, my college roommate, a raven-haired, voluptuous slut who, back then, frequently booked three or four dates, one after the other, on the same night. She was an insatiable coed and an even more insatiable divorcee. Plus, she's had a crush on Raymond since forever.

So the next Friday night, when hubby dragged his ass home after a long day at the office, he found Myra and his lovely wife lapping pussy in a sizzling 69. His jaw practically dropped to the bedroom floor along with his briefcase, but in a flash he was naked between us. Myra licked up one side of Raymond's pecker while I laved the other. When we met at the top, we tongue-dicked his piss slit together.

Then I lavished my spouse's asshole with a sloppy rimjob, while Myra mouthed his whole nut sac! We were having a blast. Ray was in heaven. He started pleading for pussy, and we gave it to him every which way. My gal pal and I faced each other, Myra impaled on his sword, while I sat on his face. Kissing and twisting each other's tit buds, we quickly developed a good rhythm. Soon hubby's mouth and balls were dripping with our juices, and he was bucking his hips off the bed. So I gave Myra the prearranged signal, and the menage a trois came to an abrupt end. We simply climbed off the poor man and left him hanging.

The look of desperation in Raymond's eyes made me very nearly feel sorry for him. Trailing my long fingernails up and down his shaft, I told him what I really wanted. I expected him to be a little pissed. Instead, like a slimy fuckin' lawyer, he slyly negotiated. Sure, I could have my threesome with two men, if he could do whatever he wanted with both of our derrieres. Myra grinned at me.

Seconds later my girlfriend and I were facedown, side by side, on the king-size mattress, bare bottoms majestically raised high in the air. Raymond started by spanking each of our fannies, lightly slapping one ass, then the other, before winding up and truly whacking both at once. Mmmm. Our lesson for being such bad girls, I guess. Every inch of my tush tingled. I was so ready to be fucked. Myra and I started necking passionately. The sight was enough to spur Raymond into action.

Keeping us on edge, Raymond drooled lines of spit into our butt cracks, and I felt a finger slowly being pushed into my rosebud. Oh, yeah! I slid my right hand down my belly to pinch my clitoris. Of course, with something new at his disposal, he dicked Myra first, tamping his big, fat cock into her browneye and moaning about how very tight she was. Meanwhile, his finger stayed in my shitter, jamming in and out in time with his thrusts.

A couple minutes of Myra, and he switched to my starfish, stuffing it with long, deep, penetrating strokes. I counted 12 of them. Then back to Myra's bunghole. A dozen incredible lunges apiece, over and over, till we girls were trembling in climax. Myra was screaming into the mattress when Raymond switched back to my pooper. A few seconds later he gasped that he was about to come. He pulled out of my rectum, and Myra and I jockeyed for position to see who could catch the most jism on her tongue.

So now I'm trying to decide who the other dick should be in my threesome. The ripped checker down at the supermarket? Or maybe hubby's boss?

[Glen2712]

Promise-Skirting Rosebud

It had been three weeks since I’d been laid, 21 brutal days of self-imposed abstinence, of jacking off to porn rags and vivid images of my girlfriend’s big, round butt. The home office had sent me to Minneapolis to close a merger deal. It was supposed to take a week tops. But now another company entered the picture, and negotiations were dragging out interminably. I ached to feel a hot, wet cunt clutching my cock.

Fuck, I was horny! The night before I’d left, Mae—that’s my longtime girlfriend—had made me promise not to “dip my wick in any strange pussy.” And, damn, I really did love her. Plus, she’d just given me the most amazing balls-and-all blowjob; so I’d given her my word. Alone in a distant hotel room, I remembered Mae’s tongue feverishly lapping my nuts, swirling up my fat shaft and darting into my piss slit. I thought about her swallowing me to the base over and over and— Suddenly, it dawned on me: Technically, a blowjob really wouldn’t be breaking my vow, would it? I mean, I wouldn’t actually be “dipping my wick in any strange pussy.”

Come to think of it, there were a whole host of exempt sex acts: handjobs, titty-fucks—hey, how about anal? Mae refused to let me fuck her in the ass. The local phone book sat on the end table next to the bed. I let my fingers do the walking to the escort services and dialed up a gorgeous Korean whose ad touted “a doll-like figure” and “a willingness to experiment.” It would be a nice contrast to Mae, a tall blonde with lush curves and pendulous knockers. Waiting for my secret visitor, I fought the urge to jack off. Hell, I hadn’t gone without snatch this long since I’d lost my virginity.

When I opened the door, Lyla was even more exotic than I’d expected. She was 19 or 20, petite, slender, yet totally sexy. Once the payment preliminaries were concluded, Lyla tugged off her top and gave me a good, long look at her delectable titties. Half-inch, hard nipples had me literally drooling. Somehow Lyla must have sensed what I wanted—or maybe it was what everyone desired—because the little hottie slipped out of her shoes and skirt and crawled up onto the bed bare-ass naked, her tush facing me. With her shoulders pressed into the mattress, she reached back and spanked her buns one at a time—sweet, firm flesh vibrating with each smack.

Next, Lyla made a show of deep-throating her middle finger till it was dripping spit, then seductively pushed it right into her puckered starfish. I swear, my knees went weak. My jeans got tangled around my ankles in a mad rush to strip them off. My erection was already harder, more urgent than I could remember. After Lyla undressed me, I slithered up behind her on the bed and smoothed my hands over her tiny body. I took my time even though it had been ages since I’d caressed another woman’s boobies, flat, taut belly and gently flaring hips. She stayed perfectly still until I rubbed my thick prick cap all over her fanny. Then Lyla gasped. So I dick-spanked her delightful derriere, making her moan deliriously.

Suddenly, the babe reached back with both hands and spread her ass cheeks wide, giving me the most beautiful close-up of her tiny, pink-brown, puckered rosebud. When I pressed my crown to her bung, it seemed an impossible fit. I jacked my hips and pressured the first inch in. Fuck! It felt like a fist squeezing the tip tighter and tighter. I paused, but Lyla started backing onto my log, inch by inch—man, I’d never felt anything like it, not even close—till my groin was touching her heavenly heinie, and my boner was buried to the ball sac. Once I started lunging, I was at her mercy. Lyla’s shit chute gripped and released my cock over and over.

I hadn’t been laid in three weeks and hadn’t had anal in almost four years! And this demure, little Asian girl was a consummate butt-fucking professional! Her snug rectum massaged my throbbing shaft, clutching hard, then relaxing, clutching harder, then easing up again. Lyla took me to the edge nine or ten times before she allowed me to climax, and then my orgasm fuckin’ took me by storm. A torrent of jizz filled her anus to overflowing, flooded back out around my prod and trickled down to her hairless snatch. Lovely Lyla let me stay in her ass till I finally went soft. Five minutes later the hot-to-trot escort was out the door. She was worth every penny, and I could still tell my girlfriend that I’d kept my promise.

[Glen2712]

My Breast Friend

Warm titty milk sprayed over my balls and cock, like a mist. It painted my fuck-set white. Slowly Chantal began to lap at her cream. Her tongue cradled each nut before swirling up and around the shaft to draw a lazy line under my ridge cap. Gentle nibbles circled the crown before she hoovered my dick between her lips and sucked me down to the base in one long, delicious lunge. She stayed there for a minute, and I could feel her throat muscles working around me, squeezing my throbbing pecker.

Chantal kept sucking, her cheeks hollowing in with the effort, as her head bobbed back up. Looking me right in the eye, the doll flicked her tongue over and into my piss slit. Then, suddenly, her lips were nursing on my base again. Damn, this girl was one fine cocksucker.

The 22-year-old’s pendulous breasts pressed into my thigh, and as her nipples rubbed up and down my leg, they leaked mama milk. I could feel my skin getting wet. Wow! I couldn’t believe this was our first date! Usually, with young, single, new mothers, it takes at least two dates before I get the gal into bed. You see, young, single MILFs are my specialty, my area of expertise, if you will. I have this fetish for titty milk. Okay, I admit it, I’m a bit of a sick pup. Sometimes I really start liking the woman, but by the time she stops lactating, I’m gone—on to a new fresh mommy. I can’t help myself. There’s just nothing sexier on God’s Earth than breasts heavy with milk and capped by long, hard, swollen nipples, droplets of cream dangling from the tips. The taste? Sweet and indescribably delicious.

Now Chantal was smothering my slammer with succulent titty. She pressed the sides of her mambos together till her milk spigots met around my shaft and actually touched. Fuck, that was a sight I don’t think I’ll forget even if I live to be a hundred years old.

She massaged her bazooms—make that her bazooms massaged my cock—up and down. Drops of moo juice slid into her cleavage and lubed our titty-fuck. I was getting so close to coming, I shuddered from head to toe. I think Chantal sensed it too.

All of a sudden she stopped jacking and moved her jugs up to my prick cap. Then the chick pushed a stiff, half-inch-long nipple into my peehole! That’s not all, folks, The blond bombshell squeezed her knocker till milk filled my piss slit and trickled over the sides of my schlong.

Well, I don’t need to tell you that I was coming then. Chantal pulled back a bit and let me paint both melons with my own special brand of cream. One by one she lifted her beautiful lobes to her lips and licked up my jizz. Let me just say that she was very thorough. Did this girl have a bit of a breast fixation of her own? At the least, her ta-tas must have been pretty sensitive, because by the time she was done, the hottie was moaning for me to fuck her. In less than a heartbeat, my bone was rock hard again.

The little mother rode me cowgirl style, her cunt clutching my spear so nicely. Best of all, in the middle of our schtup, she leaned over to let me nurse on a fat milkbag. The second my lips latched onto her teat, Chantal hit her own intense climax. She started trembling as her warm cream rolled over my tongue, and I enjoyed my second orgasm. Fuck, I was in heaven!

Later, there we were, just lying in bed naked, enjoying the afterglow, when I realized that I really didn’t know anything about my new lover. After all, I had only met her that afternoon in the neighborhood grocery store.

So Chantal and I small-talked and covered some of the basics.

Eventually, I asked how old her baby was.

“He’s four years old!” she replied. “What?!” I howled.

Chantal explained how she’d kept pumping her titties even after she’d stopped breast-feeding her young one—so the milk would keep flowing. With a twinkle in her eye she described how she had a little milk fetish of her own. Pinching a nipple, she sprayed me again to emphasize that point.

Who knows? I might have just found the woman of my dreams.

[Glen2712]

Razory Reversal

Jane always shaved her snatch smooth as silk. Not a single hair. Not a bristle. Just plump pink labes and hot pussy under my swirling tongue. Come to think of it, every girl I had ever been with—I was 23, and Jane made number seven—had shaved her slit bare. And, sure, that was nice. Nevertheless, I’d found myself drawn to certain chicks in porn rags and sex videos with full, lush pussy bushes. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, it didn’t matter. Those triangular forests turned me on. I wanted to feel those curls against my cheeks. I imagined them tickling the sides of my cock shaft as I sank deep into pulsating quim. I started collecting ’70s porn just to ogle the beavers.

So late one night, in bed after some incredible sex with Jane, I got up the nerve to mention my daring brainstorm. “Honey, what do you think about letting your pussy hair grow out—just to, you know, see? I got to tell you, I think it would be so hot, tugging on your pubes with my teeth and spraying my white spunk into all those black curls.”

My dick twitched against Jane’s warm thigh, and she got this crooked little smile on her face. “Well,” she remarked, “you’ve got yourself a deal—if I get to shave your pubies and your ball sac too. Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to suck off a smooth-shaven he-man. Mmmmm.”

Wow! I wasn’t sold on the idea of a razor in somebody else’s hand that close to the family jewels. Then again, in the six months I’d known Jane, I’d never seen any nicks on her mound or folds. And I was pretty sure the babe wasn’t mad at me. Finally, what made me relent was the image of springy jet-black ringlets surrounding my girlfriend’s very pink pussy slit. “Okay,” I told her. “You start growing a muff, and I’ll let you shave me!” My fateful date with the razor was set for two months down the road.

Of course, I got to enjoy Jane’s pubes growing in along the way. First a stubble tingled the tip when I rubbed my pecker back and forth over her snatch. Then black bristles tickled my face. A month in, those bristles had become beautiful curls that caught the light and sprang back against my fingertips. Totally obsessed, I spent hours playing with her pelt.

On the designated day I was nervous as hell, but leave it to Jane to make an occasion of it, with dinner and champagne. To tell you the truth, I got a little queasy when she started downing that third glass. But then she took me to her bathroom, lit by dozens of candles, and stripped totally naked. Seeing her lush, raven bush in all its glory almost made me forget why she was undressing me. First, Jane used tiny scissors to trim the curls. Next, she pressed hot washcloths over the base of my prod. As my shooter began to rise before her eyes, she swabbed lather onto my crotch and balls with a shaving brush. By the time she’d finished lathering me, I was totally hard.

I closed my eyes when Jane picked up the razor, and I braced myself for the worst, but there were only these incredible sensations: an erotic scraping and tugging across my rocks, Jane’s fingers delicately touching my bare skin. It felt intense, electric!

When the last stroke of sharp metal had passed over my flesh, I finally glanced down. Wow! From my perspective, looking straight down, my cock seemed to have grown a full inch or two. And that’s exactly how Jane reacted. Once she’d patted me dry, the horny girl attacked my boner. She was all mouth and gorgeous, hairy pussy.

Praise the Lord, she started with a blowjob. I didn’t know she could take me so far down her throat, but that wasn’t all my sweetie pie had in mind. When her lips reached the base of my pecker, she flicked my nuts with her tongue. Then, urging me not to shoot down her throat just yet, Jane moved down a tad and started sucking on my now-hairless balls. First one at a time, then hoovering both fat yarbles into her mouth at once. Man, did she pour on the suction!

Finally, Jane sat my ass on the throne and slowly, slowly lowered her hairy twat onto my throbbing pole. While I feasted on some fine titty, her heavenly pubes tickled my supersensitive dick and its pals till I was laughing and coming simultaneously. It was the best fuck of my life. Now I’ve got to hide the damn razor so Jane’s mouthwatering muff can keep on growing.

[Glen2712]

Razory Reversal

Jane always shaved her snatch smooth as silk. Not a single hair. Not a bristle. Just plump pink labes and hot pussy under my swirling tongue. Come to think of it, every girl I had ever been with—I was 23, and Jane made number seven—had shaved her slit bare. And, sure, that was nice. Nevertheless, I’d found myself drawn to certain chicks in porn rags and sex videos with full, lush pussy bushes. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, it didn’t matter. Those triangular forests turned me on. I wanted to feel those curls against my cheeks. I imagined them tickling the sides of my cock shaft as I sank deep into pulsating quim. I started collecting ’70s porn just to ogle the beavers.

So late one night, in bed after some incredible sex with Jane, I got up the nerve to mention my daring brainstorm. “Honey, what do you think about letting your pussy hair grow out—just to, you know, see? I got to tell you, I think it would be so hot, tugging on your pubes with my teeth and spraying my white spunk into all those black curls.”

My dick twitched against Jane’s warm thigh, and she got this crooked little smile on her face. “Well,” she remarked, “you’ve got yourself a deal—if I get to shave your pubies and your ball sac too. Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to suck off a smooth-shaven he-man. Mmmmm.”

Wow! I wasn’t sold on the idea of a razor in somebody else’s hand that close to the family jewels. Then again, in the six months I’d known Jane, I’d never seen any nicks on her mound or folds. And I was pretty sure the babe wasn’t mad at me. Finally, what made me relent was the image of springy jet-black ringlets surrounding my girlfriend’s very pink pussy slit. “Okay,” I told her. “You start growing a muff, and I’ll let you shave me!” My fateful date with the razor was set for two months down the road.

Of course, I got to enjoy Jane’s pubes growing in along the way. First a stubble tingled the tip when I rubbed my pecker back and forth over her snatch. Then black bristles tickled my face. A month in, those bristles had become beautiful curls that caught the light and sprang back against my fingertips. Totally obsessed, I spent hours playing with her pelt.

On the designated day I was nervous as hell, but leave it to Jane to make an occasion of it, with dinner and champagne. To tell you the truth, I got a little queasy when she started downing that third glass. But then she took me to her bathroom, lit by dozens of candles, and stripped totally naked. Seeing her lush, raven bush in all its glory almost made me forget why she was undressing me. First, Jane used tiny scissors to trim the curls. Next, she pressed hot washcloths over the base of my prod. As my shooter began to rise before her eyes, she swabbed lather onto my crotch and balls with a shaving brush. By the time she’d finished lathering me, I was totally hard.

I closed my eyes when Jane picked up the razor, and I braced myself for the worst, but there were only these incredible sensations: an erotic scraping and tugging across my rocks, Jane’s fingers delicately touching my bare skin. It felt intense, electric!

When the last stroke of sharp metal had passed over my flesh, I finally glanced down. Wow! From my perspective, looking straight down, my cock seemed to have grown a full inch or two. And that’s exactly how Jane reacted. Once she’d patted me dry, the horny girl attacked my boner. She was all mouth and gorgeous, hairy pussy.

Praise the Lord, she started with a blowjob. I didn’t know she could take me so far down her throat, but that wasn’t all my sweetie pie had in mind. When her lips reached the base of my pecker, she flicked my nuts with her tongue. Then, urging me not to shoot down her throat just yet, Jane moved down a tad and started sucking on my now-hairless balls. First one at a time, then hoovering both fat yarbles into her mouth at once. Man, did she pour on the suction!

Finally, Jane sat my ass on the throne and slowly, slowly lowered her hairy twat onto my throbbing pole. While I feasted on some fine titty, her heavenly pubes tickled my supersensitive dick and its pals till I was laughing and coming simultaneously. It was the best fuck of my life. Now I’ve got to hide the damn razor so Jane’s mouthwatering muff can keep on growing.

[Glen2712]

Stream of Passion

Warm, golden liquid splashed over my ta-tas, gushed in streams down my stomach and pooled in my belly button. My tit buds tingled. It felt so damn good. I couldn’t wait for Warren’s piss to hit my clitty trigger.

I was lying in the bathtub, frantically trying to rub the pee into my skin. Two orgasms down, I was past feeling good. I was well on my way to fuckin’ delirious. My lover was standing over me, his feet in the water, smiling as he aimed his flow lower. Watching the piss sluice through my blond bush, Warren told me to spread my legs wider. Now his whiz slapped against my labes. I was almost there. Fuck, I was close. I shut my eyes and concentrated on the warm, wet, delicious sensations. When I fingered my folds apart, a hot blast gushed right into my pussy, and I was coming, writhing in that bathtub, climaxing in urine.

Believe it or not, before meeting Warren, I was the most straitlaced girl imaginable—an assistant librarian no less and a Methodist. My sexual experience had been limited to necking with my accountant boyfriend, Herb, a fellow churchgoer. It wasn’t that I didn’t secretly desire to go further. I was almost 19, with rather large breasts, but good ol’ Herb never even tried to grope me. I was scared to initiate sex—ashamed I’d find out I was a dirty little slut. Obviously, things have changed since then. I’ve changed.

A day earlier, Warren strolled up to my desk at the library. I gasped when I looked up, the man was that handsome. Rugged features, a full dark head of hair, beard, mustache, sparkling sky-blue eyes. A glance at the titles he was checking out made me blush: Nabokov’s Lolita and the Kama Sutra. His hand brushed mine as he handed me his library card, and electricity sparked up my arm.

That night I masturbated with anything I could find—highlighters, a banana, a massive zucchini. I even tried to jam a fat bottle of shampoo up my snatch, but I couldn’t quite come, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Warren.

The next morning at work I immediately began searching for his address and phone number in the library database. Before I could locate the information, I spotted him searching through the stacks. It took every ounce of courage I could muster, but I was determined to meet this gorgeous man. So I nonchalantly strolled over and asked if I could help him find what he was looking for. “I believe I just did,” he said, staring straight at me. Sounds corny, but it wasn’t, and when my dream guy asked me to meet him after work, I couldn’t wait to say yes.

My heart was beating like a fuckin’ drum when I walked up to his house that evening. Yes, I was finally going to lose my virginity. I was so anxious to pop my cherry that not two minutes later I was confessing to Warren how I had masturbated the night away thinking about him. I’m not sure what I’d expected, but I sure as hell didn’t expect someone I barely knew to pull me down over his lap and whack my ass, calling me a bad little girl, a dirty little slut. Whack! Whack! Fuck!

The hunk yanked my skirt up, tore off my best pair of panties and, with the palm of his hand warm on my bare butt, he asked if I wanted him to stop. All of my repressed sexuality flooded to the surface, and I started sobbing, begging Warren to please spank me, please fuck me, to teach me all about sex.

Lesson #1 involved spanking my fanny till it glowed red. I was so horny, I couldn’t stand it. Finally, Warren stopped and slipped two fingers just barely inside my pussy flaps. I jammed my quim down on them hard and kept jamming until, finally, nirvana, release. I couldn’t believe how good it felt! Pure bliss.

Lesson #2 included an extended tutorial in the fine art of cocksucking. The blowjob started off awkwardly, but I soon learned how to open my throat and engulf Warren’s beautiful prick to the base without gagging. My new lover also taught me how to suckle his heavy balls and frig myself off at the same time. Of course, I felt so proud when he shot his sweet jizz all over my face. I came a second later.

Lesson #3, my first golden shower, was vividly described earlier in this letter. Afterward Warren tenderly bathed me, dressed me and sent me on my way like a wayward schoolgirl, instructing me to return to his place the following evening. So technically I’m still a virgin. God, I hope getting fucked is covered in Warren’s Lesson #4. Poor Herb!

[Glen2712]

Birthday Bang

When you’re a girl, it’s not always that easy to get a no-strings, no-frills bone. I know, it seems like it would be, but sometimes you have to plan things out. Sometimes a little scheming is required. There was this one night that I really wanted to get fucked and fucked hard, but I didn’t want to hear any bullshit or whining about feelings. I didn’t want a boyfriend or even a date. Hell, I didn’t even want to know his name. I just wanted to get banged by a stranger, so I went to see some bands play at this bar, and I followed this drunk, hot guy out onto the smoking patio. I asked him for a light, even though I had a lighter in my purse.

“I’m here all alone,” I told him.

“I’ll hang out with you. It’s my birthday tonight.”

I made him show me his ID, and when I had confirmed that it was indeed his birthday I smiled and told him, “Happy birthday.” Even as I said it I was already planning on blowing out his birthday candle before the night was through.

“Come home with me,” I told him, “I’ve got a birthday present for you at my place.”

I led him to my bedroom, and he took off his clothes and lay on the bed. I pulled off my jeans and climbed on top of him, and I reached down for his cock. I straddled him with his throbbing rod in my hand, guided it into my slit, and slowly lowered myself down until it was buried to the hilt inside my quivering clam.

I rocked back and forth on his stiff prick, and he gasped, “Oh my God!” Each time I slid down on his rig he said it again. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” he moaned repeatedly as I picked up the pace. I thought to myself either this guy really loves the Lord or I have some damn good pussy.

I grabbed his ass and angled my hips so his shaft slid across my clit just right, and soon I was the one praising Jesus. “Oh my God you’re gonna make me come!” I cried as I bucked against him and pulled him into me as hard as I could, and when my poonie started pulsing he began thrusting into me harder and faster, and he stuck his finger deep inside my…

Ear.

Yes, you read that right. He stuck his finger in my ear. I have had men stick their fingers in my mouth while they were fucking me. I have had men stick their fingers in my ass, but I have never, ever had a man stick his finger in my ear. Ever.

“Oh God, oh my God, oh God,” he panted, “Are you on the pill?” Little late to be asking that, I thought. “Can I come inside you? I want to come inside you,” he groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, come in me. I’m on the pill. Come in me,” I moaned as he fucked me deeper, and the thought of taking this total stranger’s load inside me made me gush girl goo like crazy.

“Really, I can come inside you? Really?” he asked in a surprised tone, like he was shocked I had agreed because he had asked my permission to do something freaky, like say, stick his finger in my ear while I came, and not merely asked if he could do something that is usually pretty standard in these situations.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said.

“Oh my God, oh my God, I’m coming, oh my God!” he yelled as he shot his huge wad inside me, and then once it was over and he was finished and the Lord was sufficiently praised he passed out.

“Happy birthday,” I said, and I kissed that drunken fool on the cheek and went to sleep.

When he opened his eyes in the morning the first thing he saw was the vibrator on my nightstand, and he let out a startled yell. He obviously had no idea where he was.

“Do you remember who I am?” I asked, and he looked around as he mumbled and groaned unintelligibly.

“Do you remember that I have a dick?” I asked, and a look of pure terror crossed his face as he whipped the blankets back with lightning speed. When he confirmed that I was penis-free he smiled, laughed, and rolled on top of me. Whether he remembered me or not, within a couple of minutes I was loudly having the morning orgasm that is so much more important to starting my day than coffee ever could be.

After that I sent him on his way. He left his ring and his sock at my place. Standard chick trick, supposedly, but guys do it too. Guess he thinks now he can come back and pick the stuff up and maybe bone me again. Maybe I’ll let him. Maybe I won’t. Depends on who is at the bar tonight, and whether or not they give me the correct answer when I ask them if they’ve ever fantasized about sticking their finger in a chick’s ear. What the hell was that all about? I can think of so many better places to stick it.

[Glen2712]

Tempting Teen

The girl was my best friend’s daughter—and she was only 18. Fuckin’ gorgeous, like only women coming of age can be. Tall and slender, with thick chestnut hair falling in waves over soft shoulders. Handful ass cheeks and mouthful titties. Ariel had it going on, all right, and she knew it.

Here’s what went down: The budding nympho was sitting beside me in a small moving truck, one leg up on the seat, her shorts gaping open to give me glimpses of smooth, bare pussy.

I wasn’t driving well at all. Kept sliding into the adjoining lane. I started wondering if her parents had noticed me swerving. They were a few cars ahead of us, in another moving truck—Al and his straitlaced wife, Brenda. I was helping them move across country thanks to my best bud’s transfer to San Diego. I figured, you know, I’d help a pal out, then take in the beach for a while.

I hadn’t counted on Ariel driving me fuckin’ crazy, teasing me to the point of painful. The first day on the road had been all right. We’d traveled piggyback, guys in one truck, girls in the other. But the second morning, Ariel had suggested switching off, and that’s when sheer torture started.
We weren’t on the highway for five miles before the pretty coquette peeled off her sweatshirt to show high, firm, creamy boobs cradled in a skimpy halter. As I struggled to control the damn truck, she kept adjusting the straps and flashing me the definition of perky. Looking over from time to time, I caught sight of those pink-button nipples, and my mouth went dry.

It’s not like I’m an old lech, understand. I’m only 38. But riding shotgun was this beautiful, young, hotter-than-my-best-dreams girl, who just happened to be my best friend’s daughter. That’s wrong, right?

Smiling coyly, Ariel slid around on the bench seat till her back was pressed up against the passenger door, and her toes were touching my hip.

“Ariel, stop!” I beseeched halfheartedly. Instead she dialed her folks on the cell to tell them we were stopping for snacks. Her toes were now tracing lines up and down my thigh. “Stop!” I yelled feebly as the ball of her foot started massaging my cock bulge.

I pulled off into a deserted rest area, and the chick didn’t waste any time. Soon as I’d thrown on the emergency brake, she was on her knees. First she mouthed my joystick through my jeans, wrapping her lips around the denim-covered lump and applying pressure. Did the same to my nuts. Then she attacked my zipper and tugged down my pants. Ariel made me forget my friend’s name.

Those hazel eyes kept looking up at me as her tongue swirled around my knob. With her little hand stroking up and down my log, she told me how delicious I tasted and how thick my prick was. The tart insisted that despite being only 18, she already knew how to deep-throat. “Wanna see?” Ariel asked.

Not waiting for an answer, she pushed her soft lips down my pecker inch by inch. Meanwhile, her nails teased my balls. It took some time for her to swallow the whole thing, but why hurry? At one point she gagged a little, and saliva flowed down my throbber, but she didn’t back off. Eventually, she took all eight inches, and I’m telling you, it was sweet. The gal looked awfully good with my stiff cock in her mouth!

Keeping the tip locked in her throat, she swallowed over and over, her talented throat muscles squeezing my prod. Felt incredible. Of course, I needed to play with those perky titties too; so I peeled off her halter. Had to pinch those gorgeous, pink-button nipples.

Ariel’s head began bobbing. She was taking me deep, easing off, taking me deep again. Suddenly, a fingertip found my asshole. Now every time she engulfed my swollen prick cap, her finger darted into my browneye.

I wanted to feel that slick teen pussy before I exploded. So I got Ariel to climb back up on the bench seat, my prick still in her mouth, and told her to pull off her shorts. Then I fingered that beautiful, fat pussy till the girl was moaning around my meat. Those humming vibrations pushed me over the top, and I exploded like a fuckin’ M-80. Pulses of hot jizz shot down her throat till she pulled back and let the last couple splat her pretty face.

Ariel looked up at me with her hazel eyes and giggled. Then the cell phone started ringing.

[Glen2712]

Queen of Stud Poker

The ace of spades was sticking to my left titty, the jack to my right—my hole cards, my losing hole cards, in last night’s game of Texas Hold ’Em. I was bent over the table, getting reamed from behind by Nick’s deliciously thick tube steak. The rest of the boys were watching, some rubbing their bulges. Two fellas were already fisting their fuck-sticks. Mmmmm.

Fuck, I loved our weekly Thursday-night poker game. Even when my cards sucked, I won. My nipples were crushed against the felt. My snatch was jammed full of cock, and Nick was taking his sweet-ass time dicking me. A butt cheek in each big hand, he slowly rammed that beautiful prick of his balls-deep. I could feel every blessed inch. Reaching under me, I grabbed his nut sac and held him there before the hunk could pull back. Clutched my cunt walls tight around his snake till the lucky guy was moaning. Flexed my twat around his meat over and over.

I looked around. Besides Nick, there were five rough, burly construction workers and me. Every set of eyes was focused on me. Every prick was fat and hard. Before long, all the other players were jacking off. What was not to love?

It had all started, innocently enough, as a penny-ante game at our neighborhood bar. We’d meet once a week, down a few beers, win or lose 40 bucks. Then about three months back the place got shut down for serving teens, and the weekly game moved to my place. Somehow, somewhere along the way, the stakes changed. Now anything was fair game. Bets ranged from household chores—cleaning, cooking, grocery-shopping—to lawn-mowing and oil changes. As for the really, really high-stake bets, what else but sex?!

See, I’m a pretty fair poker player—better than my sucker friends, anyway—meaning I win and get my pussy licked and fucked regularly. But that damn river card—the last community card—can sometimes screw you. Take last night, for instance. By the time the turn hit, it was just me and Nick betting. I had two pairs, aces and jacks, with a flush working.

I put Nick on a pair of aces, no kicker, but all he really had was a pair of 3s. Fucker had no business even being in the hand, but he goes ahead and bluffs anyway—makes the ultimate fucking bet. “I win and I get my dick wet,” he said, “in your tight little pussy. You win, I’ll lick you, rim you, anything. You name it.”

Well, I snapped that up fast. I could practically feel his tongue rolling over my clit. Then the dealer flopped the river card—a 3 of hearts! His three of a kind beat my two pairs, and I had to pay up.

Nick moved over me till I felt his breath hot on my neck, his muscular chest pressing into my back. Suddenly, he grabbed my arms, swung them above my head and held my wrists in one of his huge paws against the table. “Al, tie ’em together,” Nick directed his best friend. A second later my wrists were bound—by my own bra, no less—and all control was stripped from me.

It surprised me how excited I felt, being totally at Nick’s mercy. My skin tingled, every nerve ending alive. My hot pussy pulsed around his throbber. The other men moved closer till my vision was filled with close-up cock after cock after cock. Made me crazy!

I tried to shove my hips back at Nick, tried to rub my clit off on the felt. But the man was having none of it. He set the pace—short, sharp jabs, long lunges. He’d bring me to the edge and stop, then start all over again. His big hands were back on my butt, squeezing.

Now, I’m not the type to beg, but I sure as hell was begging then, moaning, “Fuck, Nick, please let me come!”

One after the other the five men in front of me started to spray. Thick ropes of jizz hit my hair, my face. I opened my mouth wide to provide a target and was rewarded with mouthfuls of creamy spunk. Nick finally showed mercy. He slammed his jackhammer deep once, twice, three times, and I was coming. My body melted from the inside out—total ecstasy—till I was limp as a rag doll.

Unbelievably, we resumed playing Hold ’Em, and the very next hand I held pocket kings. An ace came on the flop. I bet. Nick quickly raised, going all in. I was fucked.

[Glen2712]

Queen of Stud Poker

The ace of spades was sticking to my left titty, the jack to my right—my hole cards, my losing hole cards, in last night’s game of Texas Hold ’Em. I was bent over the table, getting reamed from behind by Nick’s deliciously thick tube steak. The rest of the boys were watching, some rubbing their bulges. Two fellas were already fisting their fuck-sticks. Mmmmm.

Fuck, I loved our weekly Thursday-night poker game. Even when my cards sucked, I won. My nipples were crushed against the felt. My snatch was jammed full of cock, and Nick was taking his sweet-ass time dicking me. A butt cheek in each big hand, he slowly rammed that beautiful prick of his balls-deep. I could feel every blessed inch. Reaching under me, I grabbed his nut sac and held him there before the hunk could pull back. Clutched my cunt walls tight around his snake till the lucky guy was moaning. Flexed my twat around his meat over and over.

I looked around. Besides Nick, there were five rough, burly construction workers and me. Every set of eyes was focused on me. Every prick was fat and hard. Before long, all the other players were jacking off. What was not to love?

It had all started, innocently enough, as a penny-ante game at our neighborhood bar. We’d meet once a week, down a few beers, win or lose 40 bucks. Then about three months back the place got shut down for serving teens, and the weekly game moved to my place. Somehow, somewhere along the way, the stakes changed. Now anything was fair game. Bets ranged from household chores—cleaning, cooking, grocery-shopping—to lawn-mowing and oil changes. As for the really, really high-stake bets, what else but sex?!

See, I’m a pretty fair poker player—better than my sucker friends, anyway—meaning I win and get my pussy licked and fucked regularly. But that damn river card—the last community card—can sometimes screw you. Take last night, for instance. By the time the turn hit, it was just me and Nick betting. I had two pairs, aces and jacks, with a flush working.

I put Nick on a pair of aces, no kicker, but all he really had was a pair of 3s. Fucker had no business even being in the hand, but he goes ahead and bluffs anyway—makes the ultimate fucking bet. “I win and I get my dick wet,” he said, “in your tight little pussy. You win, I’ll lick you, rim you, anything. You name it.”

Well, I snapped that up fast. I could practically feel his tongue rolling over my clit. Then the dealer flopped the river card—a 3 of hearts! His three of a kind beat my two pairs, and I had to pay up.

Nick moved over me till I felt his breath hot on my neck, his muscular chest pressing into my back. Suddenly, he grabbed my arms, swung them above my head and held my wrists in one of his huge paws against the table. “Al, tie ’em together,” Nick directed his best friend. A second later my wrists were bound—by my own bra, no less—and all control was stripped from me.

It surprised me how excited I felt, being totally at Nick’s mercy. My skin tingled, every nerve ending alive. My hot pussy pulsed around his throbber. The other men moved closer till my vision was filled with close-up cock after cock after cock. Made me crazy!

I tried to shove my hips back at Nick, tried to rub my clit off on the felt. But the man was having none of it. He set the pace—short, sharp jabs, long lunges. He’d bring me to the edge and stop, then start all over again. His big hands were back on my butt, squeezing.

Now, I’m not the type to beg, but I sure as hell was begging then, moaning, “Fuck, Nick, please let me come!”

One after the other the five men in front of me started to spray. Thick ropes of jizz hit my hair, my face. I opened my mouth wide to provide a target and was rewarded with mouthfuls of creamy spunk. Nick finally showed mercy. He slammed his jackhammer deep once, twice, three times, and I was coming. My body melted from the inside out—total ecstasy—till I was limp as a rag doll.

Unbelievably, we resumed playing Hold ’Em, and the very next hand I held pocket kings. An ace came on the flop. I bet. Nick quickly raised, going all in. I was fucked.