Thursday, January 29, 2009

Poker 8



It turns out that, after all of that frenzy of flying clothing, I was the only one who still had something on. Liza ordered me to lie down on my back, in the middle of the floor. Good slave that I am, I did as told. Liza climbed onto my chest, pinning me. I could feel her hands untying the strings to my apron. Then, I felt a warm and very wet pussy settling down onto my left leg, followed by similar feelings onto my right leg. The women had me in place and utterly immobile. Karla straddled my face, with her front to Liza, her breasts brushing against Liza’s back as she lowered her ass onto my mouth.
One after another, the women sucked my cock. Two or three deep swallows, rim the head, stop, trade, swallow, rim, lick, stop, switch. I was delirious, licking Karla’s asshole and pussy, smelling her sex, gulping in her liquor. The unseen hands stroked and tickled the tender skin of my balls, coaxing, teasing, bringing me almost to the edge. My cock seemed as tall and solid as the Washington Monument. But, it was almost numb. The nerves had been worn to the edge, and all I could feel was an enormous tension inside of me. It burned and ached. Sensing my impending explosion, Liza gave orders.
“Grab his balls,” she told someone. “Put your hands like this,” she told someone else. “Hold him down. Make it straight.”
I couldn’t move a muscle. Hands pushed down around the base of my cock and it stood straight up into the air. Hands circled my aching nuts and pulled tight. Liza rose up enough to wet her hands with the steady stream of her slickness that coated my chest, then settled back and took hold of my helpless prick. She announced, “Watch this.”
Liza pumped my cock like she was angry. She wailed on it, showing no restraint. She beat it, furiously, from tip to bottom, her grip tight as a vise. The universe was born in an instant. All of the energy of creation spewed through the tiny hole at the end of my cock and expanded, at light speed, to the edges of eternity. Cum flew into the air like a geyser. It coated Liza’s hands, ran down between my spread legs, dribbled in rivulets down the sides of my wrenching belly. I screamed into Karla’s pussy, my tongue stabbing like a murderer into her pouring hole.
The girls squealed and laughed and muttered in admiration at what they had done to me. The card game was over, I was a free man, flying into eternity, a lump of sex.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Poker 7


So much for the poker game! Amy spun around, cum dripping from her happy face, and met Karla's voracious kisses. Judy slumped into a nearby couch and looked at me with eyes like emeralds. She held the lips of her pussy wide and told me to feast on her. Apparently, I was still a slave. As Liza inched her sticky body out of her perfunctory clothing, I knelt obediently before Judy's altar. So smooth, so wet, so rosey, so intoxicating was that little playground between her legs!
The room was filled with the music of sex, all of those thick liquid airy smacking slapping giggling oily lines of bodily interaction that combine and flow together in symphonic bliss. I was too intent on Judy's body to notice the stream of orgasmic energy in which we all swam. Judy was delightfully multi-orgasmic and once the waves started lapping against the shores of her bowl, they filled her over and over, spreading in all directions until, arms and legs flailing insanely, she nearly passed out.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Poker 6



After I whispered my choice in Amy’s ear, she gave me a squeeze then turned toward the table. Just watching that delicious ass caused my earth to move. By this time, we were about 90 minutes into the party. My cock wasn’t hard, anymore, which was a good thing. I would have been in great pain if some of that pumped-in hydraulic fluid hadn’t released some tension. But, the third leg was certainly primed. It hung there, semi-turgid, full of blood, waiting, waiting, waiting….
Amy danced slowly around the table, touching Judy and Karla and Liza, keeping them guessing. While she touched them, she rubbed herself. The tension in the room was thick as my cock. Finally, she knelt in front of Liza (who only had an ass-high skirt on) and lifted her legs up over her shoulders. Liza looked at me and smiled, then reclined and closed her eyes. Judy and Karla, each down to panties, were visibly disappointed, but that didn’t last long.
Liza opened her eyes, as Amy started to lick her, stem-to-stern, and crooked her finger at me, beckoning me to her side. Dutifully, I approached and was met with a hungry mouth that took my semi-rigid meat all the way down to the root. The card game was over at that point. Judy and Karla lost the remaining laundry and joined in. Karla started in on Amy’s wagging bottom, and Judy focused her attention on Liza’s little birds, making them spread their wings and fly into her lips.
The sounds of quick breaths, slurping tongues, soft moans, filled the room. The sun came in through the picture windows and poured like maple syrup over our naked bodies. Amy knew what she was doing, and soon Liza was arching her hips to meet the onslaught of the tender tongue that played around her asshole and clit. Her legs were splayed wide. I held one ankle in my hand, Judy held the other. It wasn’t long before Liza started humming around the head of my cock. She held me deep, saliva leaking out around the edges of her mouth and running down her chin. She started bucking, the muscles of her stomach tightening, tightening, tightening to the point of snapping. She almost gagged as she came, pulling me deep to stifle her cries. I looked at Amy. She was smiling, her face soaked.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Climbing With Balls



The morning sun had just blinked over the top of the eastern escarpment, and it washed like orange gouache across the volcanic tuft. Magpies called from the gnarled cedars and a subtle shimmer of sage scent wafted through the heating air. Overhead, the intensity of the spotless tourmaline sky drew deeper in the waxing light. She stood motionless, like a golden pillar, naked, against the stony coolness of the vertical earth. Her eyes were closed. She was a lizard, soaking in the solar energy of the baby day, the goose bumps at the surface of her mahogany skin slowly smoothing. The nostrils of her fine nose flared in the sharp pungent scent of the dirt on her feet, the sweet acrid intoxicating smell of juniper berries, the comforting salty wet-meat aroma of her own glowing body.

The cracked and pocketed wall behind her rose over 200 feet above the valley floor. It wasn’t a big wall, but it was as exposed as she was, as naked as she was, as muscular as she was. The two were a match. She was there by herself. It was she and the rock. The two knew each other. She’d made love to this rock before. She had been scraped, scratched, broken and bloodied by this rock. The rock had torn her hair, bitten her nipples and made her cry. It had also made her laugh. It had fucked her hard and put her away wet. It had left her breathless and boneless.
She was back for another round, and she smiled wickedly in the rising sun, as she mapped her climb in her mind. She knew the holds, the cool cracks, the slippery skin of the wall. She knew where to concentrate and where to cruise. She knew where to fear for her life and where to laugh at death.
Her skin felt and glowed like caramel when she turned to face the roughness of her lover. She reached into her backpack and brought out a small, velvet, sack. Inside were two golden balls, the size of quail eggs. She took them out and put them in her mouth. Once warmed, they were inserted deep inside of her, to press and play against her as she climbed. She could feel them, there, as she placed her bare foot against the wall and pulled herself up, into her first move. The sun lit up the small hairs on her back and buttocks as she lifted herself up into the next position.
She felt so strong, and so powerful and so horny. The balls in her vagina pushed against her, making her wet, causing her muscles to grip and grab and spasm. It was distracting. This is what she wanted. This was the challenge. She would take this monster on, and spread her sex all over him and come out on top.
With each move, the heavy orbs within her moved against the walls of her sex, pressing, tickling, exciting. Her pussy dripped upon the face to the wall, coating him in her liquor. About 100 feet up, she gripped the rock with her left hand, stood spread-eagle in the sun, and rubbed her clit until her head was spinning. She had to stop. She pressed her chest against the rocky lips of her geological lover and felt the radiating warmth flowing through her. Her legs ached to throw themselves over her head, to succumb to his hardness.
With twenty feet to go, she felt as if she was being pulled into, and onto, him. This vertical challenge, this pulsing force of strength, was fucking her upward, forcing her to the top. She was light, she was air, she was color, she was beauty. She floated those last few moves, until she pushed up over the tip of him, her arms aching, her bare feet shaking, a stream of her love running down her legs. She collapsed at the head of her lover, spread her tired legs in the sun, and screamed…..

Poker 5




So, Liza, Amy, Karla and Judy were just about out of wine. Amy, who was very relaxed after her delightful performance, asked me for a refill. I happily obliged, filling her glass about halfway with a very smooth and deep cherry merlot.
“Wait,” she said, as I started to step away. “I need some flavor.”
She reached out and grabbed my cock and pulled me to her. She lifted her glass between my legs and submerged my hot balls in her wine. Then, after a proper soaking, she lowered her glass and licked me clean. “Yummm….,” she swooned, “I love this wine.”
Whether it was due to drunken inattention or just plain luck, Amy lost again. She had nothing to lose, however, so she sat in her chair with a Cheshire grin, looking smug. That was until Liza announced that, since Amy had already had an orgasm, she had to give one of the girls one.
Amy was a bit surprised at this unexpected twist in the rules of the game. Unconsciously, her hands dove into her wet crotch and she worked her fingers through the swollen folds of her oyster while she thought. She looked at Liza and gave her a wicked smirk. Then, she rose out of her chair and sauntered, seductively, around the table, touching Judy’s hair, biting Karla’s neck, rubbing the satin skin of her breasts across Liza’s face. She padded over to me, bent at the waist and slid her lips up and down my straining shaft. She stepped back, cupped my package in her hands, looked into my eyes and asked, in a soft voice, “Who do you want me to go down on?”

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Poker 4


Amy is long and lean, with shoulder-length auburn hair straight and shiny. Her skin is baby soft and golden. Bright red toenails decorate her high-arched feet, and contrast with her blue green eyes. She giggled, nervously, and rose from her chair, her battery-powered toy in hand. Her breasts swayed, gently, as she walked up to me. She got down on the carpet and lay back, in front of me. Gazing, longingly, at my veined meat, she spoke to it, “Stand over me. I want to watch your balls move.”

I straddled her, above her face, turned toward her feet and watched her busy hands. With each slow stroke of my cock, my balls slid lazily in their smooth sac. With that visual stimulus, Amy was quick to get off. The vibrator was pressed, tightly, against her clit and her legs went rigid and shook as she made herself cum in front of the admiring girls. I tried not to speed up the manual rhythm on my piston, but I subconsciously met each one of her thrusts with one of my own. It was all I could do to keep from boiling over. As her orgasms subsided, I put my hands behind my neck and just moved my hips, playing “air drum” with my stick.

Amy cooled down, rubbing her hands all over her body, feeling her hardened breasts, catching her breath. The women crooned with approval. Slowly, Amy rose up and returned to her seat, and picked up the next hand of cards.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Poker 3



Somewhat surprisingly, Liza lost the next hand. At that point, the girls were getting playful, testing their toys and laughing.
“Oh slave…” Liza said, with a grin. “I think we need some more wine. But, come here, first.”
Obediently, I approached her, half expecting another good slap. Instead, she peeled off her damp thong bottoms and looped one leg opening over my head so I could wear her essence around my neck. The aroma, so subtle, so sweet, so pungent, so intoxicating, swirled around me. She gave me a deep kiss and squeezed my balls.
As Liza dealt the next hand, I poured the wine. Instead of punishing me, the women started touching me. Their hands explored my body, roaming across my stomach, chest, ass, cock, legs. They touched me tenderly, and they invited my touch. Amy guided my free hand to her breasts. They were tight and firm as small balloons. Her nipples strained against the fabric of her silk blouse. Karla, not surprisingly, took off her panties and hung them around my neck. As she had already been eyeing my cock and experimenting with her vibrator, the crotch of her knickers was quite wet and added much to the drunken scent that rose up from around my neck. She grabbed my hand and led it to her pussy, so I could feel how slippery she was.
As I worked my way around the table, I made certain to brush my crimson boner against the bodies of my customers. One by one, they lost articles of clothing. Pants, skirts, blouses, t-shirts, bras littered the floor. I shuffled about, burying my cock in Amy’s hair, touching Liza’s neck my lips, licking Judy’s nipples. It was easier to stay nice and rigid as the game went on.
Amy was the first to lose it all. She feigned disappointment, as she peeled off her sheer bottoms and placed them around my neck.
“Show us all how you cum,” ordered Liza.

Staked Out Again


On the fourth day of our Burning Man adventure, we decided to try something even more fun. At least it sure was going to be a lot more fun for Tawnie. After breakfast, we had some fun on the floor of our desert shelter, oblivious to those around us. Tawnie was pretty excited, thinking about her next public display. She came pretty hard, which caused somewhat of a ripple effect in the campers around us. Pretty soon, cries of orgasm could be heard all around us. We sprawled out in the desert warmth and listened, giggling.
As usual, the day was hot until about 2:30, when another ripping sandstorm pelted the camp. We hunkered in our shelter, getting high and playing with each other, and making a new sign. At about 4:00, the wind died out and the dry warmth of the desert settled in. Tawnie and I walked out to where the four posts were. Tawnie was pretty nervous, but we agreed that I would be with her the whole time. As she stood there in the middle of our little stage, I tied ropes around her wrists and ankles. When I had them nice and tight I had Tawnie kneel on the ground, onto a blanket I had spread out below her. I twisted four large metal screws into the hard earth and then tied Tawnie’s wrists and ankles to them. There she was, pinned down, on hands and knees. With her like that, I walked back to our tent and picked up the sign we’d made and a bowl full of condoms and, of course, the blindfold. By the time I returned, a small group of people had already started to show some interest in what was going on. Apparently, word about Tawnie’s last show had gotten out.
I walked up behind my lover and pulled the blindfold down over her eyes. Then, I poured oil over her naked body and rubbed it all over, paying particular attention to her hanging breasts, her cute ass and her hot pussy. After she was nice and hot and oiled, I set up the sign. “FREE FUCK,” it advertised. I waited to see if we would get any takers.
It actually did not take long for a couple of guys in their mid-twenties to take Tawnie up on the invitation. They were a little drunk, but not too much, and they were clearly interested in what was set before them. They egged each other on, and they were cheered on a bit by the gathering onlookers. One of them stepped up to me and asked me if the invitation was real. I smiled and handed him a condom. “She’s all yours,” I assured him. He took it from me and kneeled down in front of Tawnie. He ran his hands over her back and dangled his cock in front of her mouth. When the head of his cock touched her lips, she sucked it in and started running her tongue around the head. It wasn’t long before his dick was nice and hard. He pulled away and took out the condom and positioned himself behind Tawnie. He placed the head of his nice hard cock against the opening of her pussy, grabbed her hips and drove in deep. Tawnie gasped and then shoved back against him, grinding into him. He stroked long and hard into her, while his buddy positioned himself in front, offering his cock to Tawnie’s open mouth.
Tawnie had an orgasm right then and there, yelling around the head of the cock in her mouth. The guy in back of her sped up. He was nearing climax. I could tell by the intensity in his face and the flex of the muscles in his ass. Someone in the audience shouted “money shot, money shot, money shot.” The chant was taken up my the group. Men and women both wanted to watch the guy unload. Finally, he couldn’t take it any more and he pulled out, ripped the condom off and sprayed cum all over Tawnie’s ass and back. It dripped down her sides and down the crack of her butt. The young stud moved away so that his buddy could have his turn.
I had already handed the second guy his condom. He was anxious to have his turn. As soon as his friend had moved away, he was in place and started driving furiously into Tawnie’s sopping pussy. He fucked her hard and she was cumming again just as her next customer kneeled in front of her face and offered his cock to her. It went on like this for hours. Tawnie was fucked by about twenty guys. She sucked almost as many cocks. Sometimes she was offered a naked pussy to lick, while she was being fucked silly by some girl’s boyfriend. She was worn out by the end of the day, but had one more, unused opening to offer me at the end of the afternoon. I took advantage of her that way, fucking her ass in front of the crowd and making her scream one last time….

Monday, January 19, 2009

Poker 2



Liza dealt the first hand. The women were, by rules, barefooted. Only four articles of clothing were allowed to remain. I stood in the corner of the room, stroking my cock, trying to keep it rigid. When the cards were all dealt, Liza brought out four “pocket rocket” vibrators and set them in front of Judy, Karla and Amy.
“Use them, if you want,” she said, with a grin.
Karla picked up the tiny vibrator, licked it, and looked at me. That was a good sign! My blood rushed. Judy and Amy looked at their cards, then at me, then back to their cards. Needless to say, no one’s attention was really on the card game. But, Liza was the master.
Judy, just to Liza’s left, looked at her cards. “Hit me,” she said, with a serious look. Liza flipped a card in her direction. She picked it up and slid it into her hand.
Karla passed. I stroked….slow, quick, jerks. My left hand pulled on my balls, while my right teased the head of my cock. I tried to keep the tension, but (with attention diverted elsewhere) I started to lose it. Amy took a hit and scooped up the card, with a serious look on her face. I stood there, in the corner of the room, a fixture, a lamp, a wilting flower. Finally, Liza looked up. She noticed my flagging member and stopped what she was doing.
“Come here, slave,” she ordered. “Didn’t I tell you to keep that thing hard?” she barked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Yes, what?” she shot back.
“Yes, master,” I said.
“Let’s see what we can do,” she said. She took me in her mouth, again, and ran her lips the full length of my shaft. Blood engorged it, again, and it soon stood tall and wet. Just when I thought I was in heaven, Liza lifted her lips off my cock and slapped it with her hand. The head of my cock slapped against my belly with a resounding “whack.” It stung and jolted my body. I cried out in pain. But…it felt so good.
“Judy, slap his cock!” Liza ordered. “He loves it.”
I walked over to Judy. She gripped my balls and held my cock high, and slapped the end of it twice. Fuck! That hurt! My member was in pain, but so hard. Karla was next. She shoved my cock deep into her throat again, removed it, and slapped it so hard I thought the head would fly off. Shit! Fuck! Damn! I was in pain. Amy slapped it side to side to side. My cock was flying back and forth, engorged and in pain. I stood before her, gasping.
“Go over there, and keep it hard,” Liza ordered, again.
Sheepishly, I stood in the corner, stroking my throbbing pole, feeling the ache.
Karla lost the first hand and had to take something off. She opted for her pants. That left her with some very nice panties into which she could slip the vibrator. I liked this girl. We kept looking at each other, as the next hand was dealt.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Poker



“Come here,” she ordered. “Put your hands on your head.”
I complied.
“Now, girls…this is our slave,” she explained to the other three. “He will get you something to drink, or eat, any time you want. He will rub your shoulders. He will kiss you. He will go down on you. All you have to do is ask.”
“Right, slave?” she said, as she slapped my bare ass.
“Yes, master,” I replied, dutifully, but with a smirk on my face.
“You think this is funny?” she barked.
“No, master,” I replied, trying hard not to smirk.
“Girls, take your turn! He needs to be spanked,” she ordered.
She gazed at me. “Give them your ass,” she commanded. “And keep those hands on your head.”
The women were arranged around a table. They were there to play poker. I was there to keep them happy. I was wearing only a small apron that covered my front, but left my rear open. I walked up to Judy, who was giggling, nervously.
“Turn around,” she said, rather timidly.
When I did, she slapped my right cheek. She would have stopped with that little tap, but Liza ordered her to lay into me.
“Harder!” she urged Judy.
Judy obeyed, whapping my ass with a good swat that stung, but felt so good.
“Harder!” Liza said. “Make him know it! He thinks this is funny! Show him you mean it!”
Judy let one rip on my ass that, clearly, left a good mark. She gripped her hand and giggled. “Ouch, that hurt!” she said.
Next was Karla. She laid into me. Both cheeks were stinging by the time she was done. Amy was next. She was just as brutal. By the time I made it around the table, by ass was radiating enough heat to warm the room. I stood before Liza.
“I’m out of wine,” she observed. Go get us some more. “Drink up, girls!”
I walked into the kitchen while Liza dealt the cards. I returned in time to hear her lay out the rules:
“We’re playing blackjack, girls. Strip poker. The winner gets to call all the shots. ‘Mister Bare-butt,’ here is just part of the prize. If you lose, you have to masturbate for us. You can use ANYTHING you want. Any questions?”
Karla piped up, “Even him?”
Liza: “Of course.”
I had poured each woman some more wine, while Liza was talking. “Come here,” she ordered.
I stood at her side. She ordered me to put my hands on my head, again. “Keep them there,” she directed. I put my hands on the top of my head. She slid my apron around, so that that fabric covered my ass and my genitals were exposed. She bent down and sucked on me, in front of her guests. As they watched, my cock grew to its full stature. Liza held my balls in her hand and licked the head of my cock. When I was good and hard, she passed me on.
“Your turn,” she said to Judy.
Judy was fun. She gripped the base of my cock and clutched it, tightly, while she popped the head in and out, smacking and slurping, until Liza said, “Next.”
I moved to Karla. Karla took me all the way. I thought my legs would buckle and I would fall to the floor. She held me, deep in her throat, and swallowed. The gripping motion of her throat made me feel like I was being milked. The other girls clapped and cheered her on. She was a star! This could not last long, and Liza knew it. She ordered me to move on to Amy.
Amy looked at me. She smiled. She started jacking me off, holding my cock just shy of her beautiful, fruity, lips. She looked into my eyes, stabbed the tip of her tongue into the tiny hole of my rod and jerked my meat as if she wanted it all. I started breathing hard. This was just NOT going to last long. Liza ordered it to stop.
“Ok, slave, go stand over there and keep it hard. We’re gonna play some poker.”

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Customer



It was her first time. I could tell when she showed me the room. She was nervous, afraid that I wouldn’t approve. I tried to comfort her, by complimenting her on the open but intimate feel of the place, the bed, the corner heater, the blond wood floor. She asked me to get undressed and slip under the sheets. I happily obliged, anxious for her educated touch. She didn’t disappoint. Her fingers found all the right spots, sending spasms of delight through the deepest reaches of my flesh. Her hands glided over my buttocks, drawing me to her. The light poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I was exposed to her and to the world. My neck, shoulders, back, ass, legs, feet…parts of me flowed like hot butter below her. I was a pool into which she dove. She entered the surface without a ripple, the turbulence of her body swirling through me, driving my blood to the edge. Then, she was done. I lay there, in the warmth and light, breathing in the stillness, my body returning to itself.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Hair



She came to me. I didn’t know her; I still don’t. I remember her hair. As I sit here, I can feel it spilling about my face as her back arched with each thrust, my hands gripping her small ass. It was that hair, the angry wild curls of Medusa falling across her back and tender shoulders, that made my guts spill into her. I envisioned my thick juice flowing through those curls, wrapping into them in a helical swirling ecstatic dance. I wanted her body like I wanted her hair, free and willing and uninhibited, and she gave all of that to me. She left me breathless, my fingers gripping the sheets, the feathers of her thick mane brushing forever through my thoughts.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Touchless




The sun was flowing in the windows, bathing the wood floor and the furniture in honey light. It was late in the morning. I was alone. I was naked and didn’t really want to get dressed. I thought about a lot of things, but one thing that stood out in my mind was an afternoon in years past, when I was hanging out in my apartment, waiting for my lover to show up. She said she’d be there around 3:00 p.m. I was going to get primed.
Cindy was her name. I had fallen in love with her in college, and we had moved from Wisconsin to Oregon to pursue our respective professional dreams. I was in science; she was in art. She lived on a farm outside of town, where she could work in some old man’s vegetable garden in the nude on hot summer days. I worked, in town, in a ski shop. She had strong legs and shoulders, large breasts that browned in the sun, thick Scandinavian hair to the middle of her back, and sapphire eyes. We were young and into exploring the sensual sides of ourselves.
Cindy was on her way. I had a little pot that I thought might put me in a good frame of mind. I stripped down and smoked a bowl. It was about 2:30. By 2:45, I was sinking deep into myself, feeling my inner self, focusing on myself. By 2:50, I was feeling my outer self. I sat on the bed, cross-legged, leisurely stroking, thinking of the moment Cindy would knock on the door. The more I stroked, however, the less I thought of Cindy, and the more I thought of how good it felt to stroke.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d flogged my dick for years. It always felt good. But, here I was, naked, sitting cross-legged on my bed, high as Mt. Everest, waiting for Cindy’s wet pussy, with a hard-on that felt like a baseball bat. I didn’t want to cum, because I wanted to fuck Cindy’s lights out and spill an incredible load inside (or outside) her. So, I just kept up this incredibly maddeningly slow rhythm on my cock. I would pump until I almost spilled my load, then stop until the intensity subsided. Then, I would start the process all over. In my mind, this took a few minutes. Clearly, however, I lost track. By 4:00, I was still naked, with an aching stick between my legs, and Cindy was nowhere in sight. I fell onto my side and went to sleep, my dick wilting in my grip.
I remembered this incident, years later, as I walked around my house, in the late morning. I had always wondered what it might be like to make myself cum without actually touching my cock. I remembered the intensity of the feelings I had had, in that college-grade apartment, years earlier. I remembered what it was like to bring myself to the brink, without allowing the floodgates to open. I wanted to recreate that intensity. This time, however, I could not touch my cock. That was the rule.
The gear: contoured butt plug, rubber dildo, lubricant, my favorite movie. Just the thought of what I was going to try made me hard. That was a good start. I lubed up the plug and eased it into my ass. It pressed firmly against my prostate and I could feel the pressure building inside of me. I sat on the couch and turned on the movie. It was one of those “Shane’s World” movies, full of beautiful kids in exotic places having uninhibited fun. As some young stallion pumped his meat deep into a lovely mare’s pussy, I moved my hips in concert. My hands were up on the back of the couch. I couldn’t touch. My cock was long and tight, swaying side to side, slapping against my belly, as I thrust in time with the guy in the movie, listening to the joyful squeals of his lover. The plug in my ass drove the liquid out of my gland and into the root of my rod. The pleasure was intense and somewhat maddening. For about half an hour, I gyrated on the couch, hoping I could tip myself over the edge. The head of my cock was dark with blood, and smooth, straining against its nerve-buzzing skin. If I had reached down to touch, I would have shot like a geyser. Finally, I couldn’t stand it. I had to bring out the big gun.
I stood up and removed the plug. Clear syrup beaded at the tip of my member as it arched through the air. I lubed up the dildo and slid it deep into my rear. The feeling was of the deep guttural groaning type. Damn, that felt good! I could envision just why gay men have so much fun. The sensation could make me insatiable. I started pumping the long slab of realistically-fashioned rubber in and out of me, standing in front of the television set, watching some guy getting sucked off by two gorgeous sets of lips. I pumped hard. The oil in my well worked its way to the end of the derrick, spilling down the sides in a long, slow, seep. I couldn’t get myself to erupt; it just wasn’t happening. I pumped harder and faster, my rigid muscle flailing in the morning light, my balls tight against my body. Finally, I had to admit defeat. I couldn’t make myself cum without touching; it just wasn’t going to happen. As delicious and consuming as the feeling was, the final blast was going to need some help.
I pulled the long probe out of my ass, and fell into the couch. I reached down and grabbed my cock, pumping it madly. Instantly, a torrent of cum flew up and hit my chin, splashing against my neck and chest. The next shot coated my belly. I was bathed, lying there in the caressing light of the morning, my stomach in spasms and my chest heaving.

Trial by Daydream



Yeah, I know I’m not the world’s greatest attorney. My mind wanders. I can’t help it;
the rest of my life is too damn good.
“Good morning, your Honor.”
Judge: “So, what are the issues from the claimant’s perspective?”
Other Attorney: “Well, your Honor, the claimant......
.......The morning arrived like a subtle hint of her aroma. Fairies danced across my skin. I
woke up slowly, and rolled over in the wadded sheets, baring my legs to the muffled warmth of
the morning sun, and smiled. Motes of dust, small worlds, sparkled in the air. She -- her touch,
her fragrance, the warmth of her breath -- always it was she on my mind. She was coming over,
was on her way. There was a pit in my stomach, a good pit, not one of those dread things, but a
gathered-up rubberband ball of energy that begged for bursting. I envisioned her crotch, nervous and damp, trapped in the seat of her car like a small animal. I lay there, fondling myself, lightly tracing the ridged underside of my turgid tool, tugging on the head, feeling, feeling, feeling....The liquid sun drooled, like saliva, across my stomach, cock and upper thighs. The pressure in my bladder added a certain urgency. Should I jack off, or take a leak? It would have been easy to give a few good jerks and have cum flying all over my belly, but that’s not how I wanted the feelings to end, and I knew that she would feel cheated if she found out.....
“......agree that those are the issues?”
Me: “Huh? Oh, yes your Honor.”
Judge: “Does the employer have any cross-issues?”
“None, your Honor.”
Judge: “Does the claimant have any witnesses?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor, we call Ms. Smith.” (Pause while witness approaches
the stand)
Judge (to witness): “Please raise your right hand. Do you......”
........Pissing is such great fun. This hot stuff running like lava down the long tube,
snapping through the opening of the urethra, bursting into the air and into the toilet bowl. All the while, there is this sucking, squeezing, collapsing feeling in the gut as the bladder implodes and relaxes. Ahhh...what a liberating sensation. Reminded me of peeing on her tummy, in her wild hair, in the desert -- another story.
I knew her routine. She would take a languid shower, using the opportunity to glide her
hands through the soap on that mocha skin stretched like latex across her muscles and sinews and bones. She liked touching herself, reaffirming her internal vision of herself. She would slip her delicate fingers along her arms and legs, across her ribs and seamless, brown, buttocks. She
would cup her plump, fruity, breasts and hold them up like offerings to the feast. Her hands
would roam down her belly to her smooth pussy, teasing.......
“Objection! Calls for speculation.”
Judge: “Sustained......”
After the shower -- a long deliberate towelling, followed by a slathering of juniper-scented oil. She would stay naked until it was time to leave, looking at her lithe body in mirrors as she walked through her house, picking up clothes, feeding the cats, nervously arranging the catalogs and magazines on the end table. Finally, with seconds to go, she would throw on the barely micro-mini skirt and sheer bikini top that had been draped over the back of the couch the night before. At 10:00 a.m. she climbed into her car, toenail polish in hand. The gas pedal and brake would feel sensual on her bare feet, the air rushing into her wet hair makng her shiver, the sun on her arms and shoulders like warm butterscotch. I pictured her, wriggling in her seat, the
slickening folds of her pussy nuzzling against her anxious clitoris. I imagined the wad of nerves in her stomach expanding and aching until she pulled up to the front of my house.
The air was still and hot when I heard the scraping of her car’s brakes. (Time to change
those brake shoes, I thought). It was 10:14 am (I was counting). The sun-warmed sidewalk
caressed the bottom of her feet as she padded to the front door. I was waiting, bladder empty,
prostate primed....
Judge: “Any cross?”
Me: “Yes. Thank you. Now, Ms Smith, you didn’t witness the accident, correct?”
Witness: “No, but I heard about it.”
Me: “From your husband, correct?”
Witness: “Ummm....yes.”
Me: “The same husband who was recently released from prison after serving time for
check forgery, correct?”
Witness: Yes, but.....
Me: “That’s all I have, your Honor.”
Judge: “Any redirect?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor.........
.........Before she could knock, I opened the door and invited her in. The look on her face
was one of tentative aggression. She stood there for an awkward moment, trying not to watch
my cock jerk upward with each beat of my heart.
“It’s a medical condition,” I explained.
She stepped in. The house was shaded and cool, the morning air washing like the waxing
tide through the open double - glass doors in back. She stood just inside the door and watched
my buns leading the way into the kitchen. Michael Franks was playing in the background --
something about making love in the backyard on a hot summer’s day. I turned. My cock was
arching toward my chin. Her eyes were momentarily glued upon it. She moved quietly across the thick space between us and stood before me, her hands behind her back, her swelling breasts stretching the thin fabric that pretended to cover them......
Judge: “Anything more?”
Me: “Uhhhh....no your Honor.”
Judge (to witness): “You may step down. Counsel, another witness?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor. I’ll call the claimant.”
Judge (to witness): “You may take a seat. Please raise your.....”
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” I crooned, as I unclasped her top. She arched her back as the
material slid away from her and fell to the floor. Her breasts were ripe and full. They fell into my cupped hands, warm and weighty. The dark brown nipples jutted toward my lips. I loosened her skirt. It dropped to the floor. She stood there, gloriously naked, her legs visibly shaking, while I cradled both breasts in my hands and bent down to savor each one.... The taste was saltysweet, with a mild scent of sweat and juniper. Dionysus had nothing on me.
Still holding her breasts I kissed her lips -- small kisses, butterfly wings, tropical raindrops. I flirted with her lips, licking them (as I intended to lick all of her), thrusting the tip of my tongue into her small cock-head mouth. I squeezed and pulled on her nipples. She sucked my tongue into her mouth and arched her back, pushing her chest out, offering her naked body to me.
“Come on, I’ll show you your throne.” I took her by the hand and lead her out, through
the glass doors, into the bright backyard. Lawn chairs, a blanket, colorful flowers, oil, champagne glasses, towels -- the stage for her indulgence was set. The muffled shush of traffic in the distance, the gleeful squeals of children in the playground down the street, boats motoring out on the bay, Latin and rock music from the neighboring houses, rock doves conversing on the roof -- a white cacophony of noise -- enveloped our bodies like the subtle comfort of a favorite blanket. A slow simmer of air rippled through the palms.
“Take a seat,” I offered. “I’ll get the champagne and be right back.”
She sank into a chair and watched my ass as I walked away from her. The sun was hot at
10:30 am. Brush grass poked and warmed the soles of my feet as I left her and strode into the
kitchen. I returned with a bottle of cold champagne, my turgid cock swaying from side to side,
the dark hair on my chest reflecting the sun. I stood before her and twisted the cork out of the
bottle, then filled two glasses. After setting the bottle down, I knelt in front of her, in the grass,
and grabbed the oil. I poured it on her chest. It ran thick and warm, down her belly, pooling into
her bejewelled navel, spilling over into the naked folds of her soaking crotch. I smeared the oil
across her shoulders and down each arm. I lubricated her nipples, sliding my fingers around and
around and around. Then, down across her delicate ribcage and her glistening flat tummy I trailed my fingers. Her breathing followed the rhythym of my stroking hands, her body moved back and forth as it chased the sensation of my roaming fingers.
A thin line of oil was poured down each leg, from thigh to foot. My hands ran the length
of her strong, sensual legs until they, too, shone in the sun. My hands slid to the thick floodgates
of flesh that surround her pussy. I gently, slowly, spread the oil. The skin was baby soft, swollen, hot. Her legs parted, a little bit, a little more. Her clit peeked out, hardening, glowing like an ember. I massaged her labia, squeezing, pulling, pressing the swollen flesh. The dance was slow, to music only we could hear. No words needed to be spoken, but I knew she wanted them.
“You are a wanton little slut, aren’t you?” She nodded. “You want to be fucked hard,
don’t you?” She nodded. “You want me to grab your legs and lift them over your head and drive
my stiff cock into you until my balls slap your ass, right?” She groaned flung her legs apart, as far as they could go, opening herself to me completely, totally. A drop of clear liquid hung like a
jewel at the opening of her pussy. My fingers circled her button, close but not touching. I
caught the jewell on the tip of a finger and licked it off, chasing the pungent earthsea saltiness of it with a swig of champagne. My cock was straining in its skin, as I knelt in front of her splayed
body. A clear drop of pre-cum dropped like syrup into the grass, leaving a viscous gossamer
thread that dangled in the air, flicking with each beat of my heart......
Judge: “Any cross?”
Me (clearing throat, shifting in chair, rearranging penis): “Ummm.....Yes, your Honor.”
“You injured your back when you slipped and fell in your motel room, correct?”
Claimant: “Yes sir.”
Me: “And no one witnessed this fall, correct?”
Claimant: “No one else was in the room.”
Me (shifting again): “And you didn’t tell your employer about this incident until elk
season started, about six months later, correct?”
Claimant: “Yeah, well...well, I thought it’d just go away, but the pain just kept getting
worse.”
Me: “And the first time you saw a doctor about anything was about two months after this
fall, correct?”
Claimant: “Uhhh...well, I don’t remember when exactly.”
Me: “Well, the records indicate that you went to Dr. Hack on July 3. Does that ring a
bell?”
Claimant: “Yeah.”
Me: “And that was for a physical examination to see if you were fit for work in the
slaughter house, correct?”
Claimant: “Yeah.”
Me: “And you didn’t say anything to Dr. Hack about any low back problems, correct?”
Claimant: “I don’t recall.”
Me: “In fact, Dr. Hack said you were capable of lifting up to 100 pounds, didn’t he?”
Claimant: “I don’t recall.”
Me: “And you told Dr. Hack that you had never felt better in your whole life, correct?”
Claimant: “I don’t recall.”
Me: “You took that job at the slaughter house, correct?”
Claimant: “Yes, I’m still working there.”
Me: “Nothing further, your Honor......”
........Her breathing was deep, and her hips pressed forward, ever so slightly, each time my
fingers grazed her clit. She could have been impatient. She could have asked for my cock at any
time. But, she loved this long, langorous, teasing, this aching want. The sun blanketed our naked bodies in its rising heat. A small bead of sweat ran between her browning tits. Very slowly, I ran my fingers over the head of her clit. One ... two ... three ... four ...stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke. Then, a quick couple of flicks, back and forth across its slippery surface. She groaned and the tension began to build. I backed off --- one ... two ... three ... four .... Deliberately, measuring the magnitude of her reactions, I brought her to the edge again and again. She had to cum, to explode. It was sweetly killing her. She tried, desperately, but couldn’t spread her limbs any further apart. Her chest was heaving, deeply. Her nipples were pebbles, threatening to pop off of the hillocks of her shining breasts, sweat glimmered all over her body. I stopped....
“Take a drink,” I ordered, “and don’t spill a drop.” She looked at me, dreamily, and
reached out, weakly, for her glass. She moved it to her slighly parted lips and started to pour the
elixir into her mouth. As the sweetness began to run into her trembling mouth, I rubbed her
aching clitoris, hard and fast. Her mouth flew open, her neck muscles strained, her legs quivered
uncontrollably, and her hips lurched as wave after wave of sweet orgasm wracked her body. The wine of her body flooded out of her and she cried out, filling the still air with the music of her
ecstasy and release. The palm trees and bougainvillea soaked up the sound. Not a drop of
champagne was wasted......
Judge: “Anything more from this witness?”
Other Attorney: “Nothing, your Honor.”
Judge (to Claimant): “You may step down. Any further witnesses?”
Other Attorney: “No, your Honor. Claimant rests.”
Judge: “Any defense witnesses?”
Me (taking my hand out of my crotch, shifting in seat again): “No, your Honor, the
defense rests.”
Judge: “Are we ready for closing argument?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor. May we take a short break, first?”
Judge: “Certainly. Let’s take a ten minute break and we’ll reconvene for closing.”
Me (hand back in crotch): “Sounds fine to me......”
......I settled back and watched as she gradually recovered. She was so absolutely angelic,
with rivulets of sweat on her face and breasts, her hair flat and wet against her forehead. Her
chest was still heaving and her hips still ground into her chair. I took a sip of champagne. “Did
that feel good?” I teased. She took a sip from her glass and pierced me with her silky eyes. “I
want more,” she growled.
“Well,” I replied, “I think you ordered a shaving, if I remember correctly. I’ll be right
back.” I rose and returned to the house. Moments later I returned with a bucket of warm water, some shaving cream, a washcloth and a razor.
“Now, just relax,” I cautioned. “I don’t want to have to call 9-1-1.” Once again, I kneeled in front of her. My cock was aching. Each vein was etched in relief along its surface. It’s color was of partly-cooked meat, reddish-brown. Her torture had been, also, my torture. The plumhead was engorged, spreading wide, taut against its skin. She stared at it while I lathered up one of her legs, from crotch to ankle. Carefully, I ran the razor down her leg in long strokes, shaving it smooth. The process was repeated with the other leg. I had her move forward in the lawn chair and spread her legs wide. Her lovely peachfruit was shamelessly open before me. Every fold was thick and shining with her cum. I slathered shaving cream all over and, very carefully, shaved her labia, her pubic mound and all around her asshole. When I was finished, there was not a hair in sight. The skin was smooth as oil on rubber. I wiped her clean with the warm washcloth.
Admiring my work, I sat back and took a drink of cold champagne. Then, I bent down and sucked her clitoris into my cold mouth. The sensation sent a jolt through her body and she
groaned in approval. Champagne spilled out of my mouth and ran into her orifices, cool and
sensual. My tongue began a deliberately torturous exploration of every fold and bump and crack and hole. I licked from her ass to her clit in slow motion, my saliva mixing with her juice and the
champagne to create an intoxicating liquor. “I could spend all day doing this,” I purred.
She watched me with her deep, half-closed, eyes. “Please do,” she implored, offering her
pussy to my mouth.
She was slouched in the beach chair, her arms thrown over her head. I reached out and
played with her nipples, pulling them gently each time my tongue ran over the nub of your clit.
She nonchalantly took a long drink of champagne. “Don’t stop this,” she murmered.
By 11:30 am the sun was like a furnace. Sweat ran down my back and chest. I sprayed us both with cool water, took a sip of champagne, then returned to pleasuring her. “Ready to cum?” I asked, with a grin.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “This feels so good, I don’t want it to stop.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I smile. “I won’t make you cum too fast.” I filled her glass with champagne. I tickled her perfect butthole with my tongue, then dipped into her creamy pussy. Next, I moved up to her soaked clit. Gently, I popped it into my mouth and flicked my tongue, quickly, until your hips begin to rise and legs tighten. I stopped. She lay there, panting, on the edge. “You fucking bastard! God, that feels good!!”
I began the process over, starting with her cute little asshole and working up to her rigid
little button. Over and over, I brought her to the edge, then backed off to let her roll back. She
wanted to cum so badly, and I knew it. I had her right where I wanted her, and she knew it. And loved it.
Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. She begged, “Please do it.”
“Do what?” I teased.
“I need to cum .... please make....me ....cum,” she begged, in between short gasps.....
Judge: “Okay ---
Me (mumbling): “Damn.”
Judge: “What, counsel?”
Me (blinking, stalling, clearing throat): “Oh, sorry your Honor --- nothing.”
Judge: “Do we need to record closing?”
Me: “No, your Honor.”
Other Attorney: “Not necessary for Claimant.”
Judge: “Okay, we’re off the record then. You may proceed, counsel.”
Other Attorney: “Your Honor, Claimant was injured on.....”
“.......OK,” I mumbled, her aching clit resting on my tongue. “Pick up your glass and,
remember, don’t spill a drop.”
Obediently, she picked up her champagne. I pulled on both of her brown, oily, nipples and rolled them around in my fingers while, at the same time, I unleashed a fury of tongue flicks on her love button. Her hips rose from the chair and she thrusted her pussy to the sky. She
screamed as an enormous orgasm stole all control. Her free hand was in my hair, pulling me into
her crotch. She could hardly get her breath as convulsion after convulsion jolted her body. Her
cries were music; she was a piece of performance art.
Her head rolled from side to side as she came down. Her grapefruit-half breasts were
riding the waves of her breathing, her tight stomach was streaked with sweat and oil. I couldn’t
help but stroke my aching dick as I took in her beauty. I wanted to cum badly, to let the white
stuff stream across the folds of her pussy.
I sat in the chair next to her and took a long drink of champagne. She was silent for a
long time. The hissing and roaring traffic on the nearby freeway, and the small “chipping” chatter of hummingbirds in the flowers were the only sounds. “Damn, that was intense,” she finally sighed. “I’d swear you know just what I need.”
“I only react to your response,” I replied. “You came here to have fun, and I’m going to
make sure you have fun. Ready to have your toes painted?”
She smiled and took a gulp of champagne. “Sure.”
I rose out of my chair and kneeled in front of her, again. I took the warm washcloth and
washed the oil off her nails. Her toes were small and lovely. I sucked each one into my mouth
and ran my tongue around in circles. She watched me, sipping her wine, lazily running her fingers across your clit. After her feet were thoroughly cleaned, I blew on them until the nails were dry. Then, one by one, I painted them. She lay back in the beach chair and closed her eyes, slowly masturbating while I spread the polish evenly, from nail to nail. When I was finished I screwed the top back on the polish and refilled our glasses with the last of the champagne.
It was 12:30 by this time and the sun was cooking the juices out of us. I sprayed us with
water until we were soaked. Then, still kneeling in front of her, I pulled her hips to the edge of
the chair. She opened her legs, inviting me in. I rested the tip of my cock at the entrance of her
cum - filled pussy. Gazing into her half - open, golden, eyes, I pulled on her nipples while, inch -
by - inch, I slid deep into her. I felt like I was being swallowed. She was so tight and hot inside.
I pulled out slowly, until the head of my meat nearly dropped out of her. Her juices shone on my
pole as I slowly entered her again. I pushed until I felt her cervix brushing the tip of my cock.
We were dripping with oil and sweat. Her breath began to quicken. She stared at me, her
bedroom eyes widening. I knew she was building to another climax, and it was coming quickly.
“Take your champagne,” I ordered, “and don’t spill a drop.” Obediently, she complied.
Then, she got this sly grin on her face as I picked up speed, pumping in and out of her in long
strokes.......
Judge: “Counsel?”
Judge (again): “Counsel?”
Me (focussing, putting both hands on table): “Yes, your Honor. Let me begin by saying
that the story that has been fabricated for you is simply not borne out by the medical record.
Keep in mind that Claimant is a convicted felon, that the nature of his crime reflects directly on his credibility. Also, keep in mind that this alleged fall, in which Claimant so severely injured his back, was in a motel room and was unwitnessed. Also, note that this alleged back problem did not arise as a medical problem until hunting season started in the fall. Claimant did not report his alleged injury to his prior employer until months after its alleged occurrence. When he did see a doctor, in July, he was feeling just fine. In fact, he told the doctor he’d never felt better. He took a job working for a slaughterhouse and meat packing plant, where he is required to lift weights up to 100 pounds. This claim simply is not compensable and you should affirm the employer’s denial. That’s all I have, your Honor.”
Judge: “Thank you, counsel. Rebuttal?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor. Defense counsel........”
“......What ... oh, god .... what ... uh .... happens .... oh shit! ... when ... FUCK! ...if ...uh ... uh... I ... oh, god ... spill ... oh, FUCK! .... a drop ... Shit!!” she asked.
I grabbed her ankles and spread her legs and drove into her, holding back my cum. “Then ... I ... fill ... your ... pussy ... with a ... nice ... big ... dildo ... and I ... fill ...your ...cute ... little ...ass ... with ... my ... cock ... and I ... fuck you ... ‘til you ... scream.”
With that, she started to cum. I held her hips and ground her clit into me. She raised the
glass of champagne to her lips and, smiling wickedly, cried out with pleasure and laughed as she
poured the liquid all over her face, our wet and slippery crotches pounding together, her body
twitching like a fish on the end of a line.
“Naughty girl,” I growled into her ear as I lifted her up out of her chair, my stiff cock still
clutched deep within her pussy, and carried her into the house. Lifting her small body off my
gleaming pole, I set her on the floor, turned her around and bend her over the dining room table.
“Don’t move,” I ordered.
She waited, bent over, her oily breasts pressed against the cool table top. I returned with
the dildo and a tube of Astroglide. I set them on the table next to her, then kneeled between her
legs and spread them wide. I sucked on her pussy and drove my tongue into her holes, tasting the pungent saltiness of her body, lapping up the slickness that oozed from her. She responded by wiggling her delectable ass in my face. I took the hint and gently pressed the dildo into her pussy, as far as it would go. It filled her with its cool, smooth, soft texture. I moved it in and out of her, in short, teasing, strokes, while I opened the Astroglide and ran a stream of its viscosity down the cleavage of her tight little butt. I pulled the dildo almost all the way out and, as I slid it, slowly, back into her body, I slipped the middle finger of my other hand deep into her ass. She took a quick breath and gripped the edge of the table. Spreading her legs, she shoved her fruity bottom into the air each time I pulled my finger out.
After a few minutes of this, I gently slid two fingers up her hole, stretching and reaming
her. She sucked in her breath, but the dildo pumping in and out felt so good and, together, the
sensations made her head spin. She started to moan with each alternating thrust of dildo and
fingers. I took my fingers out. She knew what was coming next. She was open and willing and
waiting, standing there, bent over my table with her painted toenails on the cool wood floor and
your ass in the air. I drizzled a thin thread of Astroglide down the length of my cock and moved
in behind her. The tip of my penis slightly touched her ass. It was like a spark. She pressed
backward into it, wanting it inside. I pressed the head into the tight opening and pushed. She
stopped breathing. “Push out, push out, push out.” I popped past the tight ring of her asshole
and slipped inside. I stopped and waited until she was used to me. We stood perfectly still except for the finger on my hand that gently circled her bulging clitoris. With the other hand, I slide the dildo out to the end. I waited until she told me what she wanted.
“Fuck me,” she growled. “Fuck my ass and make me cum.”
“What did you say?”
I slid my dick and the dildo deep inside of her and waited.
“Fuck me, please,” she begged.
“How do you want it?”
“HARD!” she yelled.
“So, what do you want?”
“I want you to FUCK me REAL HARD!!” she yelled in near anger and frustration.
I grabbed her hips and drove into her ass, again and again, harder and harder. We were
pushing the large dining room table across the floor with each thrust. She was on her lovely
painted toes, clutching at the edge of the table, throwing her hair into the air.
“Oh god!! Yesss!!” she screamed. “Fuck me! .... Fuck me! ... stuff me with that cock ....
Cum! ... Cum! ... I ... Oh, Yesss!!! ....
I felt the power building deep within me. It felt like a dam about ready to burst. She was
outrageous in her orgasms. Her feet and arms flailed wildly, uncontrollably, and her tossed from
side to side. I drove into her like a machine. She was crying, the tears streaming out of her, as
wave after wave of sensation and emotion passed over her. She was an animal, nothing but raw
nerves and passion.
The cum boiled up inside of me. It felt like it started at my feet. It burned through my
cock and erupted into her ass with such force that I was left weak. I was delirious as I pumped
load after creamy load into her. Long after the last of my white cream had spilled from my aching balls, I continued to push into her body. I didn’t ever want to come out; I wanted to be sucked inside of her, to become a part of her, to swim through the sea of our liquids, to drink it and tasted it and cover myself with it. I collapsed over the top of her, and we lay there, together, on the table, our chests heaving, until my flaccid cock dropped out of her and a thin, white, stream of cum escaped and dripped off her clit onto the floor.
We lay together, spent, our breathing slowing. I eased off of her, reached between her
sopping legs and pulled the dildo out of her, gently. She didn’t move. I took her by the hand and
led her down the hallway to the bathroom. We climbed, sleepily, into a warm shower together.
She stared at me, silently, as I lathered her body from head to toe. When she was covered with
soap I held her close. Her breasts slid across my chest as I kissed her. Our tongues entwined, my cock stiffened again and burned into her belly. She grabbed it in her hand and pumped it, slowly,
while we kissed. I reached between her legs and slid my fingers between the thick folds of her
swollen labia. Her clit was hard, again, wanting more. We stood together, in the shower, kissing, licking, moaning, masturbating each other until we reached the edge. We stared into each others’ eyes and came together. My thick cream splashed across her tummy. I wanted to collapse. So did she. We giggled and clutched onto each other, to steady ourselves. Such delightful insatiability. We wanted, but it was simply physically impossible.
I turned the water off. We stepped out, and I dried her off with tender swipes of the
towel. We stood in front of the mirror together, smiling at ourselves, at our comfortable
nakedness, at our mutual sexual appetite.
“Damn, that was good,” she purred, with a smile.
“Sure,” I teased, “that’s what you tell all the boys.”
We walked into the kitchen where I helped her climb into her skirt and put her top on. I
held her one last time and kissed her deeply. “You have the prettiest toes on the planet,” I said.
“Let me know if you ever need a touch-up.”
She walked out my front door, tanned, polished, weak, sore and totally satisfied......
Judge: “Okay, the records closed. I will try to have an order out in thirty days. Thank
you, counsel.”
Me (releasing my grip): “Thank YOU, your Honor.”

Monday, January 12, 2009

Photo Session


Sitting in my office, I think of the walk up the path to the towering basalt columns that make up Horsethief Butte. I led the way, the expedition leader, in a sense. After all, I talked Brian, the photographer, and Jeanie, the model, to come to this place. It was a warm day along the Columbia Gorge and I was anxious on the drive, hoping that we might have the butte to ourselves. This was, after all, scheduled to be the backdrop for scenes of sexual eroticism, and I
did not want insensitive intruders. As we pulled to a stop, along the road, I was relieved to see that there were no other cars.

Jeanie, Brian and I had each had a glass of wine on the drive and were feeling warm inside. We talked about the beauty of the place as we walked. I was somewhat nervous, but comfortable with what I had planned. Jeanie giggled every once in awhile, revealing that she,
too, had a butterfly or two in her stomach.

The walk was not far and we soon stood within the circle of stone that rims the butte and creates a natural corral on the interior. I remembered a tree that grew in a corner of the corral. It was tucked into a small indentation in the rock wall and had a low-slung branch that would serve as a prop in the first series of shots. I walked up to the tree and visually checked the branch.

“Jeanie, come here a minute,” I said with a smile. My heart was beginning to beat into my crotch as she walked toward me. Jeanie is a friend/lover of Brian’s and he had described her to me. He was right about the pert, young breasts and the small, firm ass. He failed to tell me about her over-all beauty, however. Long ringlets of shining dark hair framed a small, delicate, face with full lips, a thin button nose and blue eyes that a man could swim in, completed the exquisite picture. I was in love at first sight. She sauntered up to me.

“Here,” I directed, “see if you can reach this branch.” She smiled as she easily reached up and grasped onto the smooth bark. She almost had to raise up on her toes.

“Like this?” she asked, with a tease in her voice that told me she knew what was coming.
Jeanie was a professional dominatrix, by trade. She knew all about teasing.

“How’s this spot?” I turned and asked Brian.

“This is great,” he said, enthusiastically. “Let me check the lighting.”

Without a word, Jeanie and I pulled off our shorts and t-shirts and stood together in the
late morning sun, while Brian took light meter readings against our skin. He stepped back and
adjusted his camera, took the lense cap off and positioned himself. “O.K.,” he said, “let’s see
what you had in mind.”

“You wouldn’t want to see what’s in my mind,” I joked.

“Sure I would.”

“Alright, Jeanie,” I said, “grab the branch with both hands.” She did as I directed.

“Now,” I whispered, “try to hang on.”

I stood behind her and kissed her neck and earlobes, touching her only with my lips and
slowly rising cock. She immediately reacted, moving her head back and from side to side,
pushing her rear into my body.

I reached around with both hands and lightly traced the undersides of her taut breasts. I
circled her areolas, feeling the nipples harden, hearing her breathing become more rapid.
I buried a kiss and a small bite into her neck while, at the same time, rolling her nipples
between my thumbs and forefingers. Jeanie’s hips lurched and shook and she groaned. I dug
the fingers of one hand ito that soft space between her belly button and crotch and pulled her into my body.

Brian’s camera was very busy. “Keep going,” he said, “I’ve got to put in a new roll. You guys are great, just great.”

Jeanie was saying about the same thing. “God, this is great. I can’t remember when I’ve
been so hot,” she murmured in between moans.

I ran my tongue down her back and down into the soft crevasse of her butt. I trailed my hands down her front, from her breasts to her hips. Next, I reached through her legs with one hand, tickling her soaked labia as I went. Her ass muscles were shaking as my hand smeared her
juice all over her crotch. I pressed the heel of my hand into the opening of her vagina, forcing
her engorged clit between two of my outstretched fingers. Then, I rocked my hand back and
forth, gently, while I licked and nibbled the smooth young skin of her rear. Whenever I thought
she might come, I stopped the rocking motion until she settled down.

“You are fucking teasing me to death,” she cried. “I need to come. Uugh! God . . . oh
. . . this is . . . uugh . . .fucking GREAT!”

“Hold on Jeanie, don’t let go,” I coached, as I moved around to one side of her. I cupped
one side of her head and plunged my tongue deep into one of her ears while, simultaneously,
flicking her dripping clit. She took a deep breath and held it and I knew she was ready to burst,
so I withdrew from her.

“You bastard!” she growled as her hips shook. “Just wait . . . you’re next.”

“Oh,” I teased, as I sucked a nipple into my mouth, “and what are you going to do to
me?” I moved over and sucked the other one. “How many times can you come in one day?”

“Forever, you fucker,” she whined. “I need to cum now . . . please let me cum now.”

“Promise you’ll do it again?” I tormented her.

“Yesss . . . you fucker . . . hurry . . . make me cum.”

When I stepped back from her, she looked absolutely frantic and absolutely heavenly. A
thin trickle of sweat ran from her beaded chest to her belly. I crouched in front of her, spread her pussy with my fingers and slowly licked her little nub . . . once . . . twice (she was shaking and every muscle in her long legs tightened) . . . three times, then unleashed a flurry on her clit that
sent her into convulsions of pleasure. She cried out again and again, throwing her head from side to side. She was up on her toes, grinding her sopping pussy into my tongue. My tongue was on her like a vibrator, and I kept it up until she literally collapsed on top of me, her chest heaving, her legs unable to support her.

“That was outrageous,” Brian exclaimed. “I almost did it in my pants.”

“Don’t waste it,” ordered Jeanie.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

This Shit is Bananas



It’s January, I’m in Palm Springs, the temperature is in the 70’s, my daughter’s riding her horse at Indio. What do I do with all of this time? The Santa Rosa Mountains are looming to the southwest; I want to explore them, climb them. I’m not going to waste precious moments watching horses shit and run around in circles. I take off for the hills.
A week before, I’d severely sprain my ankle while running railroad ties. When I sprained it, I cried out in pain and sat down. I was a mile into my run and had more to go, so I ran another….no, hobbled another….two miles. By the time I got home, my ankle was twice its size and my foot was swollen down to the toes. In a couple of days the whole foot looked like a bloody corpse.
So, there I was in the Santa Rosas, intent on climbing a 4,000 foot peak, in the nude. After all, I was going to take advantage of the sun. In my trail shoes, I struck out. There were no trails; this was a climb through scree and cactus, on a goat path. The cactus, of course, posed some rather interesting threats, given my state of dress. As I made my way down the path, I had an epiphany; I could be lacerated to death and the search and rescue people would find me, somewhere on the side of a mountain, naked. The thought was hilarious, and as I stumbled through the rocks, in my birthday suit, with an ankle the size of a grapefruit, I began to realize how funny the whole thing was. I started singing Stephani’s tune….”This shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S,” at the top of my lungs, laughing all the way.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Desert Run



The morning was cool in the desert. The sun washed mango orange against the distant mountains, a harbinger of warmth. I walked, barefoot around my campsite, waiting for the coffee water to boil. The earth was solid and cold beneath my feet, but comforting in its grainy hardness. Dust worked its way up between my toes. The hiss of the heating water was the only sound. I was anxious for it to stop, so I could listen to the silence.
I strolled about my camp, taking photos of the desert as it transformed before the rising sun. Awakening in the stillness, the greasewood and sage in Ralph Lauren hues of deep green/blue/brown/tan, the line between earth and sky in stark and unambiguous contrast. Soon the water was bubbling and I poured it into the cone filter and turned the stove off. Now, the soft breath of the morning air brushing past my ears was the only sound.
With coffee in hand I stood contemplating the sun, as it peered over the hills to the east and flowed like thick syrup over me and the desert. As the air warmed, so did I, and my clothing lightened until it was no more. The sweet radiance of the sun warmed my skin alive. I tied on my running shoes, stood and stretched, ran my hands over my naked body and took off running. I ran to the east, into the rising. I ran through the heating scent of sage and creosote. I ran lightly toward the hills. The air flowed around me and through me. I felt as free as the pronghorn antelope, the golden eagles and the coyotes that called the place home. I felt like part of the desert, the land of the ancient Paiutes.
I ran up into the hills, sweat beading on my body, my lungs burning in the high desert air. I explored an ancient river bed and gazed out over prehistory like one of the ancient ones who used to live there. Mirages of another world passed before me as the desert floor heated, rising into the deep azure sky. I stood, my body a fragile flash of light in the limitless expanse, an untamed animal returned to its home.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Seeds


This is not so much an erotic story as it is a story about the development of eroticism.
In 1964, I was ten years old. I lived in a small Midwestern community where my father worked as the town doctor. The town had about 1,200 inhabitants in it, and everyone heard you fart in the morning.
I developed a friendship with another boy, which is not unusual. Actually, there was a small pack of us who used to run through the woods, along the creek, and play "cowboys and indians." One of the group was a bit more adventurous than the others and he, and I, spent some hot afternoons playing naked in the creek. We would just float in the cool water, while the air above us was thick with humidity and mosquitoes. I will always remember the sensuality of it all; the cool water rushing around my unclothed skin, the grinding sand on my bottom. We had great fun. There was nothing sexual about this. I still had never had an erection and didn't know what it was. It was all about doing something a little naughty but, oh so fun.
This friend had a "dirty" magazine that he had found somewhere. It was full of 8"x 10" black & white photos of women in provocative poses. In the mid-60's, full frontal nudity was forbidden in most publications. There were no crotch shots and, certainly, no penetration shots. These photos depicted woman sitting, lying, standing in poses that, mostly, showed off their breasts. But, it was pretty racy stuff. My friend gave me the magazine. I felt a buzz of excitement, even though I had no clue where it was coming from. I took the treasure home and hid it (as all resourceful children would) under my matress.
My bedroom was on the second floor of an old wood-frame house. Walking across the floor caused a chorus of creaks and groans that resonated in the spaces on the first floor. This was how I was busted.
At night, when I was quite certain everyone else in the house was soundly asleep, I would turn on a small table lamp, pull the "dirty" magazine out from under its secure hiding place and turn to a photograph. I would sit on the wooden floor, with the photo in front of me, and try to mimic the pose of the woman on the page. It was exciting to try to experience what she may have experienced, there in front of the lens. I was too young to have an erection, and I certainly did not know what an orgasm was, but I felt something inside of me as I sat on the floor, naked, trying to look like the model. It all felt nasty and scary and exciting and fun. I knew it was wrong, but I could not have told anyone why.
One day, I came home from school. I knew something was up. My mother was acting a bit strange. Nothing really happened until my father came home from work. He was always the disciplinarian. When he came home, he called me into the kitchen. I entered, not quite sure why the tone of his voice was confrontative. I did not know that I had done anything wrong. He reached up and pulled the magazine off the top of the refrigerator. "Where did you get this?" he asked, in a rather angry manner. I was dumbstruck. Where did he find it, I thought. It was, afterall, under my mattress.
I 'fessed up and told him the name of the friend who had given me the taboo material. He promptly told me that I was never to associate with that friend again. The magazine was confiscated. I was shamed, embarassed, injured.
I look back on that and smile. I went on to become a sensual hedonist, an art and photo model, a writer of erotica. The experience could have scarred me, or made me stronger. The latter was the path I chose.

Blood, Piss & Sweat


About desert earth
Wild tossing screams
Windy passion
Damp flesh swirling
Dusty sweaty thrust
Loud sun stipped call
Blood wine bodies
Rolling in piss
Seeping deep
The mindless feral
Muddy love

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

For All Time


Oh that we might, for one brief hour
Forget that we are bound apart
And lie within each others' arms
Mouth pressed on mouth, and heart on heart
For one brief hour, from both our lives
To sink unchained through passion's deep
And, cast upon a further shore
To lie entwined in tender sleep.

Lunch.1



I led her from the couch to the bedroom, where I had lit candles and placed a plate of brie, crackers and apple slices. I wanted this to be perfect for her. On the way to the bedroom, I picked up the poured glasses of Pinot Noir, her favorite wine. In the bedroom, I pushed her onto the bed and removed her remaining strip of cloth. “On your tummy,” I said.
My god, that ass looked yummy! A cute little tatoo adorned her low back. She settled into the deep comforter and I straddled her body. My balls fell against her bottom and my cock nestled against her, as I spread honey-scented massage lotion across her back and shoulders. Touching her skin was like touching the still surface of a summer pond. It felt like my hands would fall into her and bury themselves. The only thing that had structure to it was that persistent piece of muscle and blood between my legs. Otherwise, everything felt like angel hair, or sheep’s wool, or warm butter. The sensations overwhelmed me; I felt like crying.

Monday, January 5, 2009

The Amazing Mushroom


Stinkhorn fungus: Phallus impudicus
"It begins as a small egglike body beneath the soil which enlarges to the size of a golf ball. An erect phallus-like stalk breaks through the 'egg,' forming a cuplike basal volva as the stalk rapidly elongates. The swollen 'head' or cap is coated with a black, putrid, musilaginous mass of spore slime."

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Evolution: The Sexual Experiences of a Cell



My brain felt like it was going to pop out of my head. But, upon further reflection (which would also be impossible) I realized that I was a very lonely member of the genus and species Escherichia coli. I was floating around, somewhere off the coast of Zanzibar (don’t you love that name? I’ve always thought I’d like to name my first clone “Zanzibar.”) when I came upon a lung fish. Now, this fish was no ordinary fish. Even those amongst us one-celled organisms who do not even react to chemical changes in their environment know that lung fish used to be considered extinct. And here was this thing with rudimentary legs trying to hang on to its aquatic existence. Duh! Should have gotten out of this soup about 100 million years ago. Actually, I think the damned fish was showing off. What makes a fish hang on, so long, to what is quite obviously NOT it’s destiny?
I kind of waved my cilia and moved in closer to this obviously fucked up animal. “Wassup?” I oozed. The fish didn’t seem to notice. Hey, move in closer, here…have you ever noticed how blank the eyes of fish are? It’s like they just never see nothin’ or hear a thing you say. It’s kind of irritating, on the cellular level. I was trying to make some small talk with this ignorant piece of flesh. After all, it doesn’t take much for me to end up in, say, New York Harbor. Life just sort of whisks by me, or me by it. So, I try to learn something from every organism I meet. Obviously nothing was going on in this interchange. I moved on.
So, no shit, there I was. I was just drifting along, watching phytoplankton fucking around in the water, when I felt this gentle nudge along my cellular wall. Boom! I couldn’t control it! My pilus shot out of me like a fucking spear and half of my genetic insides spilled into this incredibly beautiful E. coli cell next to me! Like I said, my brain (what there is of it) felt like it was going to pop out of my head! And, as I watched in amazement, she floated away, splitting into something that would, someday, look like a fucking fish!

That Afternoon





After our stroll out to see the Man, Liza and I returned to our camp. The sun was high and the wind was like the hot breath of a dragon. It was a bit too hot for sex, at least the ball-slappin’ kind. Instead, it was a good time to break open an icy beer in the shade our tent, smoke a joint, and lounge around. That, of course, could always lead to something else and, predictably, it did.
After Liza and I had stripped down and taken a couple of hits, we brought out the Scrabble board and tried keep focused as the buzz kept building. Sometime in the middle of the longest game of Scrabble in the history of the game, I got up to walk out to the truck. I noticed that the girl who had watched me and Liza, the day before, was back with a couple of friends. She was wearing a g-string that was nothing more than a cord that ran down the middle of her pussy, covering absolutely nothing but her clit. While the concept of wearing anything, at all, eluded me, I thought about how nice it would be to be that cord. Her friends were a couple of very fit-looking guys, who wore even less. They approached me. Andrea (that was her name) asked, in a somewhat shy manner, if she and her entourage could play on our gym. I was quite happy she asked, of course, and invited her (and her slaves) into our tent, first, for some introductions and libations.
Liza was a bit surprised to see three new people walk into the tent. She took one look at the bodies, however, and had absolutely no objection. In rather hurried manner, she started to put the Scrabble game away. Andrea stopped her, however.
“Wait,” she said. “I wanna play! I love Scrabble! Let’s play teams; the winners get to tell the losers what to do. By the way, I‘m Andrea and this is Greg, and this is Shawn.”
Damn! I very much liked the sound of this challenge, and so did Andrea’s cohorts. So did Liza. She stopped, giggled, and dumped the letters back out. “Let’s make this even more interesting,” she said, with a sly grin. She looked up at Shawn. “It’s you and me, against Andrea and Brad.”
Well, that got the juices flowing! Poor Greg had to sit and watch the game, but I’m sure he didn’t mind too much. The odds that he might be involved in the outcome of the game were pretty good. The game was fun. The obvious sexually-charged words came out on the board, and we tried to outdo each other with our ingenuity. A few more hits, and a beer later, and we were nearing the completion of the match. The score was tight, kind of like the skin on my cock. I couldn’t help fading in and out of an erection, as the upcoming end of the game loomed. With a couple of turns left, Andrea and I had the upper hand on the score, and it was apparent that we were going to win. Liza was quite excited about that prospect and just wanted the game to end. The last points came when I added an “s” to “cock.” That was a good 13 points. Andrea and I were victorious. Andrea looked at the last word and said, “Just what I was thinking. I see three of them, here, and Liza looks lonely.”
Liza looked at me and smiled. She got up and walked out of the tent, toward our sex sculpture. Damn! Watching that delectable ass and her bare feet just had me going! I was very jazzed, to say the least. Our new friends followed Liza; the guys were clearly excited, as in noticeably excited.
I caught up with Liza as she was climbing onto the stage. “Wait,” I said. “Don’t climb into the chair. We have other things in mind.”
I bolted one of the horizontal beams in place, in front of the chair. I then tied Liza’s ankles in place, spread-eagle, and had Shawn climb into place in the chair. Andrea strapped his legs into place, and tied his arms behind his head. When he was firmly in place, I bent Liza over the beam and tied her arms to her ankles. Shawn’s cock waved in front of her face and her rear was open for exploration. She didn’t need much encouragement. She immediately sucked Shawn’s cock head between her lips and took as much of him in as she could. Andrea positioned herself between Liza’s legs and licked her ass and pussy with great enthusiasm. Greg and I stood and watched, our members swollen in the heated air of the desert. We knew we’d all get a turn with Liza.