Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Burning Man: Day 2

Liza and I slept well that first night, after playing on the sex gym. People were rolling in, all night, setting up camps all around us. We woke when the sun was beginning to rise over the eastern escarpment. In the distance the “bump, bump, bump” of techno-beat boomed across the desert.
Liza is so strikingly gorgeous. She lay next to me on our cot, her deep dreamy eyes watching me as my hands glided over her nude body. Her long auburn hair was beginning to clump and thicken in the dusty playa air. It framed her face like smoke. Her nipples stiffened beneath my fingers, in the cool morning, and her breath escaped through her parted lips in short bursts as I pinched them and rolled them between my fingers and thumbs. Her hips moved to the rhythm of her breathing. The distance between her bare feet lengthened until her painted toes dangled over opposite edges of the cot. As I raked my fingernails along the insides of her spread thighs, she played with her little button, languorously masturbating for me. I bent over to lick and suck and bite the soft roundness of her breasts. The tempo of her stroking increased until her legs went stiff and shook, and her stomach pumped the sounds of orgasm through her open mouth. As she settled back to earth and into the deep blankets, I kissed her lips and left her to go make coffee and breakfast. I checked in on her, briefly, as the water was heating on the camp stove, and smiled at her exquisitely naked body, sprawled and soundly sleeping. She was, surely, an angel.
Later, after breakfast, Liza dressed in crotchless silk panties and boots. On her head was a very cute black bowler, and she tied one of my silk ties around her neck. The tie nestled between her perfect breasts and teased her nipples as it swayed from side to side as she walked. In her hair, she wound beads. Clearly, she ruled as the sexiest camper on the desert floor. I wore a short wrap skirt, a cowboy hat and boots. Together, we walked to the Center Camp, to get mochas and check out the scene.
The scene at Center Camp was pure circus. Girls in boots and short skirts and bikini bottoms, with dreadlocks and goggles; guys in kilts with scarves around their necks; naked women painted silver; men in leather chaps; people dancing; people talking and hugging each other; people playing guitars; people sleeping on couches. Near the center of the space, a naked woman covered with playa dust was practicing incredible yoga moves. Next to her, a man in silk pajama bottoms was standing on his head. Liza and I bought a couple of mochas and found a wall to lean against, where we could watch all of the fabulous people, in all of their finery. I was difficult, of course, for me to keep my hands to myself and I found my fingers exploring Liza’s gorgeous body, while we sipped on our coffee. She moved to stand in front of me, and I crooked one arm around her, cupping a breast in one hand, drawing her delectable ass against the tent that was growing in my skirt. We stood there, warming each other, until we had drained our coffee. Time to take a walk.
Black Rock City is arranged in a large semi-circle around a central point. The point is “Burning Man,” a large sculpture that stands a couple of hundred feet above the playa. At the end of the event, he is burned to the ground, amidst a barrage of fireworks and gasoline explosions and beams of lasers. Liza and I decided to stroll out to the “Man.” Long dusty esplanades, flanked by columns, lead the believers to the center where the man stands like a flame, drawing moths. The sun was rising and heat was descending upon the desert floor. Liza and I held hands, as we shuffled through the dust, toward the center of our camping world. People rolled by us on junky bicycles, or in phantasmagorical art cars.
About halfway out to our destination, we spied another art installation that had been placed, seemingly, by aliens on the desert floor. It was a twenty-foot high flower. It’s steel petals curved up toward the sky, like a giant radio dish. Inside the curving petals, the wind was quiet and the heat was still and intense. We walked inside of the petals and fondled each other until we were both ready. Then, we fucked. I pounded into her, from behind, grabbing her hips and plunging my cock between the frilly fabric of her crotchless panties. We moved in unison, sweat streaming across our bodies. She cried out and, soon after, I shot deep into her, my chest heaving, my stomach tight. I pulled out and a thin, white, stream followed my cock out, spilling and dripping off of Liza’s pussy. We straightened up and started giggling at how spontaneous and wonderful the whole experience was. I bent down to lick the salt off of Liza’s nipples, then kissed her long and deeply. We held hands and walked out of the flower petals, to continue on with our explorations

Making a List

Things To Do

“Idiocracy” DVD
“Snow Falling on Cedars”/ “The Other” by David Guterson
Take kayak to Alder Creek
Start to practice guitar
Get spare inner tube for bike, and glasses (yellow)
Send stuff out for publication
Work on painting(s)
Get lotion from L’Occitane
Find 9/11 New Yorker
Go pick up hammer and tape measure
GolfSmith for clubs: 2 wood, covers, 58/60 degree, 3iron
Get Michael Graves Coffee Pot at Target, or Melita “Take Two”

Submit poetry
Look up Tim’s Book
Turn on lava lamp
Light candles
Cut up cheese
Nip off Viagra
Open wine
Strip her
Rub back/spank/play with pussy/bite neck
Turn/rub front/pinch nipples/kiss/bite neck
Legs/scratch/spread pussy/pinch labia/finger
Prop up/lick pussy/make cum
Pull down/fuck slow
Turn/fuck from behind/spank
She on top….cum


Moving my feast around the bed, smelling the soft aroma of her sex, watching the flex of her ass, listening to her approach and the spilling over. Another sip of wine? Some brie? A slap, a pinch, a bite?
I wanted to suck on her toes, her clit, her nipples, her lips, her neck, for hours. We didn't have that, but we had enough to bind us forever.

Perfect Storm

The wind builds and the waves rush over the surface of my skin, the power of inexorable energy growing in the depths. This happens so rarely in one's life, and I will cherish the day, carrying the memory of her beauty and the unleashed force of this perfect storm with me, forever...


“Come in,” she said warmly. “I’m so glad you made it. Let me show you to the pool.”
Tara turned on her sun-browned toes, slightly jingling the silver bracelet on her ankle. She led me down a broad flagstone hallway toward the back of the house, her dark hair bouncing in tight ringlets to the small arch of her back, her round and oiled buttocks softly flexing with each step.
“Oh, wait here,” she directed as she ducked into the kitchen and returned with a large plastic cup filled with some kind of booze on ice. “Something to get ya going,” she purred.
The house was immense and rich, stone and wood, light pouring in at all angles. Photos, sketches and paintings of male and female nudes, some abtract, some graphic, lined many of the walls. As I followed the soft curves of Tara’s body through the house, I could hear the sounds of animated voices looming closer. Laughter, giggles, shouts of encouragement drifted in from the outside. Then, the unmistakable cries of pleasure, muffled moans.
I had heard rumors about Tara’s pool parties, but nothing quite prepared me for what I saw as we stepped out of the glass walls of the house, onto the patio. Tara is a cheerleader and star gymnast at a wealthy suburban high school. Her parents are in business together and are very successful. Fortunately for Tara, they are quite trusting and often leave her alone while they attend business meetings in Europe or Japan. Tara is stunning and, as is usual with beautiful people, her friends are uncommonly striking. Several of those friends had arrived before me and were all very comfortably naked, oiled and uninhibited. One of the male guests was splayed back in a recliner, his eyes closed, sweating. Between his legs rose a shining pole of flesh, the end of which disappeared into the stretched mouth of one of Tara’s friends who was blindfolded and could not see who it was who knelt behind her, sliding a rather large dildo in and out of her thrusting crotch.
Several of the guests gathered around, drinks in hand, cheering their blindfolded friend on. Suddenly, Tara commanded, “Drink,” and everyone took a gulp from their plastic cup, including the cocksucker, the dildo operator and the guy with the twitching dick.
Tara looked at me. “I have one of these parties about once every two months. I’d love to have you back but you have to obey three rules. First, you have to be naked at all of my parties. Second, for the first hour you have to wear one of these.” She reached into a box and pulled out a blindfold and slipped it over my eyes. “Third, whenever I say drink, you have to stop what you’re doing and take a drink.” She started unbuttoning my shirt. “O.K?” she asked.
Eagerly, I shook my head in agreement.
“Good,” she said. “Drink.”
And as I raised the drink to my lips my pants were pulled to my ankles and I felt a very delicate pair of lips encircle the head of my very stiff cock. It was all I could do to keep from inhaling a mouthful of alcohol. The lips backed off. “Mmm,” came an approving sound.
“Tastes just like chicken,” yelled a female voice from the far side of the pool. Giggles followed from all sides as someone grabbed my organ and gave it a gentle tug. As I obediently followed the hand, I could hear the muffled cries of what was probably the blindfolded girl as she very obviously had an orgasm, her mouth stuffed with meat. A couple of approving “Yes’s” punctuated the sweet music.
“Stand here,” a very feminine voice directed. I could hear the tinkle of ice cubes and a slurping sound. I raised my own glass to my lips and took a quick gulp. Moments later I was shocked by three ice cold tongues, two circling my nipples and one jabbing into the tip of my dick. My knees went weak and I reached out with my free hand for something to hold onto.
“Put it here,” the voice on my right nipple mumbled, and I felt my hand guided to a very smooth and wet pussy. The clitoris was large and round, and my fingers knew just what to do with it. Within moments, I could hear grunts and moans of encouragement as the sopping crotch pressed into my hand.
All the while, the frigid lips and tongues kept up their onslaught of my errogenous zones. Every once in awhile, a delicate hand would cup my balls and gently pull downward as icy lips slid the full length of my aching member. My hips started a slight rhythm of their own and I could feel the pressure building with each smack of lips.
“Drink” came the command and all action stopped while the cups went up. I expected the cool mouths to resume their torturous activity, but all I could feel after the gulp of alcohol was the thick wet folds of labia in my “free” hand and the hot afternoon sun on my skin.
“Make me cum,” whispered my right-hand companion in a rather urgent tone, and I could feel her pussy open and thrust forward into my twirling fingers. I flicked her clit faster, every once in awhile diving deep into her hole to rub her g-spot and lubricate my fingers. I could hear her kissing someone or some thing and moaning more frantically. Suddenly, I could feel her tense, and her pelvis started shaking uncontrollably. She started to cry out and it was, then, that the sadistic character of Tara,s little game became apparent. “Drink,” came the order from across the pool, and my companion, in the throes of orgasm had to try to take a drink. I could hear her yelling into her glass, then a long high-pitched whine as she took a mouthful of booze, then a quick gulp and a half-gargling gasp. Peals of laughter erupted all around me. It was then that I realized that I had been putting on an exhibition for quite a number of people. My cock, still stiff as a light pole, seemed to swell even more at the thought.
A pair of hands grasped my shoulders from behind and turned me to the right, while another hand gripped my penis. The hand very gently place the tip of my organ into a very wet and warm place and I involuntarily drove deep into it. Immediately, there was a gasp, and then a lusty voice urged me on.
“Pump it, baby. . . . Pump it in my hole . . . . Oh . . . yeah . . . yeah . . . yeah. Oh . . . god . . . fuck . . . yeah . . . Fuck! Me!
The voice drove me crazy. I felt like a machine. The pressure was building deep inside my groin and my ass drove my cock as far and as fast as it could toward the big release. Just before I spilled my guts, the hot muscles surrounding my dick tightened, and as my balls slapped happily, my fuck-mate cried out in orgasm. As her last wave was subsiding and mine was just about to break, I heard, “Drink,” from the far side of the pool. I stood there trying to drink and cum at the same time, but the distraction was enough to put the brakes on, and I stood there trembling and sweating, my balls drawn tight.
My frustration must have been apparent. A tongue started brushing the small hairs on my ass while small fingers circled my pole at the base and started a slow pumping rhythm. From time to time a tongue circled the head of my cock, gently flicking the sensitive underside. This sweet torture did not last long. I could actually hear my white cream splash against the lips and tongue of whoever it was that knelt before me. It felt as if my insides were pouring out all at once through the little tube in my penis. It was exquisite pleasure and excruciating pain all at once. I bellowed like a bull. A cheering section stood around me and whooped and applauded until the last thick drop of jism had been licked from the end of my dick.
Someone kissed me, then pulled the mask from my face. “Thought you might like to see what a mess you made,” purred Tara with a devilish grin on her face. She moved away and I looked down on one of the most beautiful faces I’d ever seen. Her name, I later found out, was Andrea and she kneeled in front of me, her nose, cheeks, lips, chin and breasts shining with my cum.
“Yummm,” she growled. “Will you please finish me off? she pleaded. She lay back and spread her legs wide, raising her hips and her glistening, shaved pussy to my lips.
“Drink,” came the command. And I did.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

The Beach

He was so cute; I couldn’t resist. I’d seen his body before, but not like that. It drove me
Dan and I had been seeing each other for about four months, fucking our brains out for
about three and a half. It was a simmering day, and Dan suggested we head out to “the beach.”
I had no idea what beach he was talking about and slipped my skimpiest bikini on under my t-shirt and shorts. Turns out, I didn’t even need that much. The beach was a nude beach a few miles out of town, and when we arrived about 11:00 in the morning it was littered with brown bodies; not a stitch of clothing anywhere.
Now, Dan’s cock is a beautiful specimen even when it’s not hard as steel (which is not
often when I’m around). I was very interested in seeing if he could keep it under control when I
wriggled out of my bikini bottoms.
Walking down the sandy beach, the water lazily lapping at my toes, I watched Dan’s ass
flex under his shorts and his strong shoulders swing as he walked slightly in front of me. The
excitement of the moment made me wet, and I secretly wanted to do something outrageous.
Unbeknownst to my lover, I was scheming while he searched for a semi-secluded spot in the sand. My nipples tightened under my bikini top as my plan unfolded in my mind.
“Here’s a decent spot,” Dan said, and threw out the blanket and set up the beach chairs.
Without apparent hesitation, he stripped down to his muscles and plopped into a chair with a
broad smile on his face. “How do you like it?” he asked.
Staring seductively at his slightly twitching love muscle, I joked, “I hate it,” and peeled off my t-shirt. Untying my top and releasing my hungry breasts into the hot sun, I asked, “Cum here often?”
“No,” he said, appropriately; “I’ve never cum here.”
I stood in front of him, taking in the sensations that rushed through me as I looked around
at the water, the sand, the naked bodies, Dan’s gently glistening chest and stomach and his slowly inflating meat. “That’s too bad,” I teased as I untied my bikini bottoms and dropped them to the sand. I eased myself into the beach chair at his side, reached over and ran my fingernails up the inside of Dan’s thigh and purred, “Wanna cum here often?”

“How often is often?” Dan smiled as his gorgeous tool stretched out in the sun, falling
heavily against his belly.
“As often as you’d like,” I replied as I lightly traced the underside of his cock with a
Dan looked nervously about, suddenly self-conscious as he struggled, unsuccessfully, to
keep himself under control.
“Let me suck it,” I suggested, with a Cheshire grin.
“Here?” Dan asked nervously.
I circled his pole with my small fingers and stroked him slowly. “Just a little,” I cooed, as I bent over and popped the head of his cock between my lips. I slid my lips down as far as I
could, then inched my way back to the beginning. Holding his wet sausage in my hand, I pressed my thumb into the underside, just below the engorged head and massaged it in small circles. I licked his tiny nipples hard, then gazed into his eyes and implored, “Let me fuck it.”
Dan looked around to see if anyone was noticing my busy ministrations. “O.K.,” he
stammered, hesitantly.
I bent over and gulped his hot prick deep into my throat, groaning with wanton desire.
Dan moaned helplessly as I clamped my lips tightly and slid slowly up to the tip, where I paused
to flick the underside with my expert tongue. I giggled and sat back in my chair. “Not yet,” I
teased. I moved my beach chair so I was facing him and reclined with my legs spread invitingly.
Sliding a finger between the swollen folds of my labia, I said, “First, I need some suntan lotion and you need to cum. So, you just whip some lotion up for me and I’ll watch.”
I dipped a couple of fingers into my soaked pussy and smeared my lubrication liberally
across my clit. Then, I lazily stroked myself as I watched Dan take matters into his own hand.
“That’s right, baby,” I coaxed. “Make some lotion for my lips.”
I writhed in front of Dan, and in seconds my body jerked and spasmed in the throes of
ecstasy, my bronzed breasts lurching in the sun, my fingers flying across the head of my shining
love button. I felt so wonderfully open and free and uninhibited, I could have fucked Dan on a
stage in front of thirty thousand.
As I started to relax and regain my composure I was treated to my wildest desire.
Through half-closed eyelids I watched as my lover rose out of his chair, his hand violently
pumping his dick, his muscles shining in the sun. His voice was husky with desire and he cried
out as the first creamy glob of semen flew out of the tip of his crimson cock and splashed across
my slightly parted lips. I arched my back and caught the next load with my upthrust breasts. A
third squirt streaked across my sun-bronzed tummy. The last thrust of Dan’s hips brought a
small, slippery drop of cum to the tip of his flared tool and I hungrily lapped it up with my tongue.
“That’s number one,” I purred, as I smeared his juice all over my body.
The cool air rushing across my cum-soaked breasts made my nipples hard as pebbles.
Dan slumped back into his chair, his semi-rigid member falling heavily between his legs, a smile on his face.

Sunday Drive

My wife is such a tease! Tawni is 5’5”, sports a thick mane of curly golden
hair, has an ass to die for and a smile that, literally, charms my pants off. We’ve
been together for about five years and she still keeps me guessing.

Last weekend, Tawni pulled a stunt that still has my crotch twitching
whenever I think of it. I was sitting on the couch, reading the Sunday paper when
she walked into the living room, after her morning shower, and suggested that I go
out and take the top off of the convertible so we could take a ride out to the river.
I should have known something was brewing by the look of mischief in her eyes.
I dutifully walked outside and unsnapped the ragtop. The early July sky
was crystal clear, the air was dry and the morning sun promised a blazing day.
Tawni’s idea was a good one. I had no idea how good.

Just as I finished tucking the frame away, my lovely wife padded softly out
of the house and climbed into the passenger seat. “Ready?” she asked with a
broad grin.

I looked at her and grew a little weak. There she sat, wearing a bath towel
and sunglasses. Her hair was in a French braid, her skin glistened in the bright
morning sun. “Looks like you are,” I chuckled as I climbed in beside her and
started the motor. We rolled out of the driveway and out to the road that was to
take us out of town and into the surrounding desert. As soon as we hit the four-
lane highway that leads out of town, Tawni unwrapped her towel and draped her
right leg over the side of the car.

The rush of the morning air tightened and crinkled her perfect nipples; the
golden light cascaded around the smoothness of her breasts and tummy and spilled
across her delicate feet and sexy, tanned legs. Of utmost beauty, however, was
glow that radiated from her freshly-shaved pussy and the tender pink hood of her
clitoris. Needless to say, I had some difficulty keeping my eyes on the road.

There are three major intersections between our apartment and the open
road. Before we reached the first set of lights I made sure I was in the curb lane.
That didn’t deep the driver in the car next to me from noticing that I had a hot one
in the passenger seat. Tawni was reclining, her right hand tracing the puffy folds
of her smooth crotch, occasionally pulling at her nipples. Her hips rocked slowly
in the bucket seat.

The first set of lights was not too bad, but I could see trouble up ahead. My
hot lover’s eyes were closed and her breasts were rising and falling with the
rhythm of the finger that slid the length of her shining, bare pussy. As we started
slowing to a stop, Tawni’s hand increased its tempo, and when we pulled up
alongside the van at the stoplight, my beautiful passenger dove deep into her
gaping hole with two fingers.

The van next to us was full of a high school baseball team and they soon
had the windows packed. Hoots and howls of encouragement excited Tawni even
more and she gasped with an impending orgasm as I pulled away from the

“Wow, that was close,” she said with a contented grin. She looked back
over her shoulder at the van full of admirers that was speeding to keep up with us
as we approached the final intersection. “Watch this,” she giggled.

My dick almost jumped out of my shorts when I saw her next move. She
opened the glove compartment where she had planted a very life-like replica of a
stiff, nine-inch cock. Out it came and in it went -- to the hilt. Tawni placed both
of her delicate feet on the dashboard and drove that dildo home, drawing it out
shiny and soaked, to its perfectly formed mushroom tip, then sucking it in again.
She started moaning and groaning as she pumped her sopping hole. Her
shameless clitoris stood out, reddish-pink and hard in the sun, begging for
attention. I wanted so badly to lean over and touch it with the tip of my tongue.
Tawni was nearly in a frenzy as we started to decelerate. Unconsciously, I
was humping the air and a spreading patch of pre-cum crept across the front of my
shorts. When we rolled to a stop next to the van full of cheering young studs,
Tawni raised her hips off of the seat so the appreciative audience could get a full
shot of that nine-inch tool pistoning in and out of her sopping cunt.

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I licked my fingers, reached over and
rubbed her screaming clit furiously. That was all my little exhibitionist could
stand. Her body arched like a bow, her smooth belly and jiggling nipples jutting
to the sky. Her cries of pleasure drowned out the cheers of the crowd in the van.
She thrashed and bucked and tore at the seat until the waves of her orgasm started
to subside and, as we turned right and headed out of town, she melted into the seat,

As soon as she caught her breath, she leaned over and pulled my leaking
cock out of my very wet shorts. With the dildo still clutched in the muscles of her
pussy, Tawni tongued my tool until I filled her warm mouth with hot cum and the
sizzling desert air with my own bellows of ecstasy.

Tuesday Morning: Prelude

My mind hasn't been this useless in such a long time. The anticipation is killing me. I wake up rock hard and have to summon up the strength of Hercules to resist temptation. I will see her soon, will rip off her clothes, will press her skin against mine. O, the joy of passion!

BMan Fantasy 2009

It’s really not about the orgasm. Anyone of sensual proclivity knows that it’s all about the process, the slow simmer of psychic and physical juices, the melding of visual and tactile flavors, the making of the soup. It’s about running naked through the snow with a lover, licking the ends of her freezing nipples, grabbing her icy ass and holding her warm belly against you. It’s about thick olive oil on her legs, in the sun, her labia puffy and soft on your tongue. It’s about the feel of cum building in your stretched balls, working its way like lava through the length of your cock and seeping out in long, thin, streams. It’s about watching her from a distance, admiring the flex of her naked body as she works in the garden, sweat rolling down her browned flesh. Unrelenting pleasure, excruciating pleasure, gasping pleasure, unreleased pleasure, nail-raking pleasure: once it has started, you cannot stop it.

So, here I am in an airport, snowed in, waiting for a flight in the depth of winter. I sit in the cocoon of my thoughts, while disgruntled and exhausted passengers file by me like zombies. I sit against a wall, enjoying the sensation of the erection under my laptop, my mind buried to the hilt in the memories of summer’s passions.

How do I explain this thing, this contraption, this instrument of bliss? It is made of wood. I can dismantle it, transport it to distant locations, and set it up in minutes at my destination. It’s a rack, a cross, a chair. It’s festooned with eyebolts, straps and ropes. My lover, Liza, and I designed it after a round of chemically-fortified sex on an isolated Mexican beach. After giggling, stroking, drawing, licking, fantasizing, kissing and discussing our plans for hours, we banged our bodies into numbing orgasm. I couldn’t wait to get home, to get out the hammer, saw and drill.

I won’t bore you with the mundane details of design; I will simply describe how Liza and I put our creation to use. First, the location. Certainly, you’ve heard of Burning Man, a hedonistic festival that draws 50,000 fun-seeking people together, each August, for a week of libidinous debauchery in a northern Nevada wasteland. Liza and I trekked to this outrageous event, taking with us a week’s worth of food, drink and sex toys. During the day, the sun blazes on a treeless expanse of alkali, and winds can whip the dust into blinding shrouds that coat and seep into everything. At night, the place erupts into rave parties, light and fire shows, magic, and sensual delights that often defy description.

My lover and I drove the 1,500 miles to Burning Man in a truck that was loaded to axle-breaking capacity. On the roof rack was a two-room tent, a beaten couch, and our portable playground. We drove the entire route naked, windows down, wind rushing over our bodies. Occasional side trips down dusty roads ended in the most delightful of bent-over-the-hood quickies. We arrived at the Burning Man site (Black Rock City) physically drained and primed for more sex. Once we entered the City, we found a plot of dirt and set up our camp. It was a spare camp, consisting of the truck, the tent, the dusty couch and our wooden inspiration. Our sexual jungle gym looked like an other-worldly sculpture. Upright supports, padded horizontal beams, a chair with stirrups backed by a cross. It was exciting to look at, not so much for its aesthetic beauty but for the anticipation of ecstasy that it represented.

Liza and I were tired after our long day of travel, but we were naked and the sun was still shining. As if to try out the effectiveness of our creation, my beautiful lady climbed onto it and reclined in the chair, placing her feet in the stirrups. She was, of course, teasing me. We had already taken a test drive or two. Her blatant tease, however, worked as expected. In seconds, her ankles were securely strapped into place and her arms were bound over her head. She was all mine.

To better set the scene, the chair is raised a few feet off the ground. To get into the chair, my lover had to climb up into it. I could clamber onto a platform to fuck her, or I could bolt a horizontal beam in front of her that I would have to bend over, if I wanted to eat her fruit and be exposed. On this occasion, I decided to simply play with her. But, first, the oil.

While other campers drove or strolled by, I oiled my baby from head to toes, until she shone in the sun. She lay there, thrusting her pelvis toward the cloudless sky, while I kneaded her breasts and kissed her, brushing the end of my cock against the inside of her legs. But, this was all about teasing, about prolonging the slow smolder of building tension. My little prisoner was going to be the object of much experimentation in the art of sexual torture. I stood back and admired her captive beauty for what, probably, seemed like an eternity to her. Her breathing was shallow and quick. She longed for touch.

A young couple had slowed down to take a look at what was going on. They were quite interested. When they stopped, I slowly eased an oiled finger deep into Liza’s ass. She stopped breathing, for a second, then forced the air out in a long growling cry that rattled my balls. A slippery, glistening, drop of liquid oozed out of the end of my hard rod in response. The couple moved closer, watching as I eased that one finger in and out of my girl at a maddeningly slow pace. Liza was moaning with each long stroke and the audience stood mesmerized, clutching each other as if to keep themselves in control.

I pulled my finger out and left my princess to climb off the platform on which I was standing and walk around to her ear. I bit her neck and told her how absolutely beautiful she was. I whispered that others were watching, as I reached around to pinch her nipples. She gasped as her stomach tightened, and her hips shook. “I want it,” she mumbled. I sucked on her earlobe and said, smiling, “Yes, I know.”

My cock waved tall as I walked back around to climb between her immobile legs. I pinched her labia between my fingers and thumbs until she cried out in pain. I pulled the lips far apart, exposing her pulsing pussy and the copious dribble of her cum as it ran out of her and down across her puckered asshole. I ran my fingers around her opening, spreading her juice down her legs and across her glimmering mound. Her clit was swollen larger than I had ever seen it. It has taken on a deep glow as blood engorged it to the bursting point.

Another couple had joined the first, and the four of them crowded around to watch Liza’s torture. I winked at them as I climbed down, again, to whisper into my lover’s ear. I kissed her and told her that more people were watching her, admiring her body. I told her that I was going to make her cum, if she asked nicely. By this time, the viscous liquid of my pre-cum was running down the underside of my very hard cock. I stroked myself for the benefit of the crowd as I climbed back onto the stage. I leaned over and blew on my sweety’s clit. She sucked in a breath, in anticipation. The muscles in her bound legs twitched.

“Do you want to cum,” I asked.

“Yes,” she almost begged. “Please let me cum….”

“Ask me nicely,” I teased.

“Please, let me cum,” she repeated, almost whining.

“What?” I asked, as I rolled her clit, lazily, under my thumb. “I didn’t hear you.”

“PLEASE, make me cum,” she yelled.

It is difficult to explain to anyone just how much I love to bury my face in a woman’s sopping crotch, and to drink the intoxicating liquor that pours from her. I think it all originated with my first girlfriend, a girl who taught me (through years of adolescent experimentation) how to appreciate the subtleties of oral sex. Out of ignorance and fear, we never experienced intercourse. But, I learned my way around a pussy, and she certainly learned how to get the most out of my inexperienced high school pecker.

Anyway, there we were; my baby oiled and wet, and me hovering over her like a hummingbird over the most lovely of orchids. I had to make her scream for the crowd. After all, we wanted repeat business. I bent down close and, without warning, plunged two fingers deep into her while my tongue unleashed a barrage of flicks across the aching head of her clit. She bellowed in orgasm, every muscle in her body straining against the straps that held her captive. Her feet and hands punctuated each cry, fingers and toes curling, grabbing at the hot afternoon air. The hot nectar inside of her shot across my face and down my neck as I brought her, wave after delicious wave, to mind-blowing ecstasy.

When I sensed she was spent I backed away and tenderly released her from her bonds. I helped her down from her oily, sweaty, cum-drenched throne and she collapsed to the ground, her perspiring breasts heaving with exhaustion. I sat down beside her and cradled her in my arms. We had grown oblivious to the folks who had gathered around to witness our display, until one of the women walked up and asked if she and her lover might use our toy, sometime.

Bingo! It worked!
(Stay tuned for installments)