Yoga Boy Needs a Break Pt. 01

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Big Tits

Lee looks towards the door hoping the other guys leave him be. The thought of more makes him a little anxious. He feels so tired and weak. Thankfully they don’t come in this time. They just beckon their partners to come as the job is done.

With the burglars fleeing, Lee is left cold naked and wet on the floor. His breathing is still rapid and shallow. He thinks about how he could run away before Nile returns. But he just can’t concentrate, he’s so high on the experience he has just had.

He clambers to his feet. Shaking and trembling with a mixture of pleasure and adrenaline he slowly makes his way to the door. He peers out and can see his front door is wide open showcasing his house to the buy high street.

His tiredness wins, he stumbles naked to the front door, much to the delight and shock of passers by. The giggles and finger pointing make rock hard again. “What is wrong with me” he wonders. A group of girls stop to laugh in absolute shock. A couple do a double take as he closes the door to a chorus of “oh my gods”and “did you see thats”.

Before he can turn and walk to the kitchen there is a loud hard knock at the door. He looks through the peephole. It’s the group of girls all sniggering and trying to be serious.

He considers leaving them hanging. But they might want yoga classes. God knows he needs the money. He opens the door shielding his body behind it. They know he is naked, their hungry eyes scan the whole picture ready to devour whatever they can see.

“Can I help you ladies?” He tried to sound interested but it didn’t seem to matter. They all bundled in through the door. As the door slammed the he tried to hide his groin with both hands.

“You can’t, but WE will help you” All 5 women stared at his cock Ankara bayan escort laughing. “You cant help us with that thing trust us. But with that thing,” pointing at his still leaking ass, “you can help someone we know!” They all roared with laughter. Cackling witches he thought. They circled him. One groped his ample ass as she bit her lip. He didnt bother resisting. He was so tired.

“Look, we have this,” the ring leader paused, “friend, if you want to call him that. He has a house abroad he normally invites guys, like you,” pointing to his ass again, “to visit. What do you think lil’ sissy bubble but?” The witches screeched with laughter again. His cock was up for it apparently. One of the women walked towards him slowly. Her heels clicked hard on the wood floor. “You should get on your knees.” None of the women were smiling or laughing now. Again, he didn’t even bother resisting. He wanted to kneel anyway he was so tired he convinced himself. She lifted her skirt and stood with her legs a little wider than shoulder width apart. She wore no underwear. Her big hanging lips glistened in the hallway lights, with a big drip of liquid hanging from between them.

“Your pecker down there between your skinny little bitch legs wouldnt even get us started. We need real dick! Like real ones, you know?” She looked knowingly into his eyes. “You like them big too don’t you lil guy?” The sniggers started again. “Don’t worry, we have just the ticket.” She began to write on a piece of paper torn from a notepad in her handbag. Finished, she scrunched the piece of paper up, leaned down exposing her huge cleavage and stuffed the paper into Lee’s mouth. She winked and with that, all 5 left the building not without one last humiliating Escort bayan Ankara insult. At the top of her lungs, one of the women shouted “Can you believe how tiny his cock is? No wonder he prefers BBC up that big round arse of his!”

He closed and locked the door before anymore feet found their way inside. He looked at his still rock hard cock. At nearly 6 inches, only nearly mind you, it wasn’t the worst. But it was not Niles, Vinces or Cams. They all had big ol’ cocks. The ones that swing between legs! The ones that catches eyes in the street and breaths in the bedroom.

He spat the paper out into his hand and unfurled it. It read Leon, then a foreign number.

He text it without hesitation. “Hi this is Lee, your friends gave me your number. They said you wanted to invite me over to your place abroad somewhere?! Not sure if they were playing with you or me lol. ” Delivered 1607.

He grabbed a sandwich from the fridge and ate it so fast he got felt heartburn almost immediately. Glugging some water he walked naked to the bathroom at the opposite end of the hallway. The cum was now running down his legs and on the back of his balls. He showered quickly avoiding the urge in his cock to wank.

He dried and threw on some sweats and picked up his phone to check if had a reply. No notifications. He couldn’t help check further. Read 1637. It was now 1647 he thought. 10 minutes and no reply. Not likely to get one now.


His eyes inspected his phone immediately. The number for Leon showed on screen with the word ‘Photo’ and an icon next to it. His heart raced. He could hardly open the picture fast enough. His eyes widened at the the picture. It was a photo of a piece of paper which had Bayan escort Ankara writing on it. But Lee’s eyes filtered this fact and saw only that the paper was laid over one very erect penis. The no penis was actually visible but the paper clearly say on a naked man who was very very well endowed. The white paper contrasted against his skin making it much more noticeable to Lee.

Lee finally realised the text on the paper was the purpose of the photo. It was an address and 2 questions. The address was for somewhere he had never heard of. He hastily opened maps on his phone. It was on an island in the middle of the Atlantic. How the fuck do I get there? He thought.

He read the questions. ‘1) How big is your ass around in inches? 2) When will you get here?’

He wasn’t sure the answer to either. He’d never measured his ass! Numbers were not his speciality he had to admit. And when he would get there was a mystery, if he ever could. He’d only just found out this was a place 30 seconds ago now he needed travel arrangements. Fuck those witches.

He poured over the internet for flights and finally came across exactly what he needed. The main problem he had with actually booking them though, was the ridiculous price. £2’492 return. He had about £175 in his account.

He text Leon to say sadly he could not afford it. Delivered 1701.

He went back into his studio and checked what needed to be cleaned. He had 10 clients due in first thing tomorrow and he couldn’t have any evidence of earlier.

He mopped the cum and returned the mop and bucket to the utility room off the kitchen, put his clothes in the washing basket.


He fumbled his phone back out his pocket. “Photo” from same number as before. He opened. It was a booking confirmation and itinerary. He didn’t quite understand what he was looking at until he saw the town name of the address he was sent by Leon.

“He’s booked my flight?!” The disbelief in his voice echoed in the small room. He felt weak. He felt taken advantage of. He was as hard as a rock again…

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Neighbour’s Hole

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Amazing Ass

My life had been in chaos.

The only thing I could do was to “man up” and make things right.

So I did.

At 20 years old, I’d stumbled through a trades apprenticeship, killed my weekends drinking and partying and managed to knock up my estranged girlfriend Beth. My parents never shamed me outright, but I could feel their deep concern. Beth’s family on the other hand hated my guts, and the only way to repairing things with her folks was with a ring.

I proposed to her with balloons and a smattering of friends capturing the moment on social media- the wedding itself was a negotiation with her parents, a quick city hall ceremony, but performed by a minister. As a wedding gift, our families had cobbled together a down payment on a house in the burbs, one town over from Beth’s parents.

Best case scenario in a no-win situation for me I guess. Goddamned cock.

Looking at our engagement photos, you’d think we were the happiest kids in town. I was like a teenaged newscaster, gawky, with a big shit eating grin on my face, my blonde hair perfectly styled. In our pictures, Beth smiled wide in the shots often laughing as she climbed up on my back or running from me in a grassy field. I figure, we’d seen enough perfect couples online- we knew how to act.

In reality though, we were two stupid fucking kids way over our heads, who barely knew ourselves, never mind each other. Two idiots stuck in the suburbs with a kid on the way, realizing the time for pretending had come to an end.

I don’t think it took a month until we came to terms with how bad things were. For all the hashtag-couple goals we shared outwardly, we soon came to realize we were unfortunate roommates for the foreseeable future. Beth began going to bed earlier, me staying up later- our sex life non-existent. I started taking walks around the neighbourhood to smoke a joint and get my head right for sleep, and that’s when I came across “the mudroom”.

I was burning late one night when I felt like taking a shortcut through a nearby park. Feeling myself, I climbed up on one of the wooden playground structures and laid beneath the stars, just smoking and contemplating what my life had become. Exhaling into the sky, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a happier time.

I drifted back to when I first met Beth, to our first fuck. My cock thickened at the memory before thoughts of fatherhood crashed the party. I hated myself for fucking up this bad.

It was then I heard a noise and swung my head around to a neighbouring house. I was dizzy but could just make out the details of someones yard. I saw a dimly lit door on the side of an attached garage, my elevation gave me a clear view of the path through their garden. This house had a gate onto the park, which was left slightly ajar. My eyes narrowed as I tried to find the source of the noise- an animal perhaps? Maybe the wind had swung the gate open.

Instead, I slowly realized that the side door to the garage was being unlocked. I rolled over on the platform I’d been laying on and tried to remain as quiet and still as possible. Everything from this point on seemed to move as a fog. Blame the weed or the horniness, but as the door in yard swung open I swear I could see the body of a naked man inside, pressed to the wall, a hole beside him streaming light into the room as another guy made his exit.

The man who was leaving looked to be in his mid thirties, and seemed to be shrugging on a polo shirt. I scanned his face for any sort of recognition, but my eyes were drawn to the unzipped bulge in the front of his pants. What the fuck was I witnessing here?

I shook my head as I collected my weed addled thoughts. This was a normal suburb right? This was a regular old house. Looked like everything else in the neighbourhood, didn’t have a red light or anything sleazy about it. Had my hormones just imagined some insane scenario, or did I just see a dude leaving a glory hole?

I split my observation between the stranger who had left, and the side door on the garage. Dude just continued walking on the sidewalk until he disappeared from view, while the door remained closed. I was dying of curiosity now. For whatever reason, I was convinced I had stumbled across a real live glory hole. This was the kind of shit my friends and I would tease each other about back in high school- never in my wildest imagination did I ever think I would see one. I lay there on my stomach for five minutes, waiting for any sort of movement. Then ten became fifteen- but I was immoveable. I had to see this guy come out.

Losing attention of the clock, the side door finally jiggled as it unlocked, and an older man crept out into the garden. He was bald and wore a windbreaker and khaki pants. He had slipped out with such ease, I couldn’t even see a sliver inside. My eyes followed him as he peacefully walked to a parked car and drove off.

His departure left me alone with the park, with the yard, with the side door to that mystery garage. All I could do was stare at the door and imagine what was on the other side. Realizing my joint Ankara escort had burned about halfway down, I knocked off the ash and licked my fingers before extinguishing it. That was all it took for my body to spur into motion. I slipped off the playground equipment without a second thought, and made my way to the gate. There was no sober second thought, or fear at that point, just a blitzed out loser with a hard-on making his move. I closed the gate behind me, oddly feeling safe by doing so. I hadn’t a clue what was on the other side of the one door, but I may have given myself some security from the rear.

My body felt a jolt of electricity as I touched the doorknob- I was filled with adrenalin believing I was about to bust in on something illicit, not even thinking of what I might be offered. The door swung open before me and the pungent smell of sweat and sex filled my nostrils. I stood there like an idiot staring at everything. The tiny room was painted black with wrist cuffs hanging from the ceiling, and a roll of paper towel place on a stool. A bulk box of condoms had been torn open and placed along a wall stud next to a pump bottle of lube. There were two long ovals cut into plywood on the one wall, both currently covered. I bent over to look at them, noticing the edges had been padded with some dark vinyl. Hearing a little commotion, my eyes darted up to the corner of the ceiling, where I saw a small security camera.

“Shut the fucking door” A voice growled out at me, suddenly breaking my confidence.

I wanted to run, but my brain was somewhere else and my hand was being obedient. I pushed the door closed, noticing the big metal latch and struggling to set it in place. I was young and stupid and high, taking orders had become the norm now- so this wasn’t much different from the rest of my life.

“Well? Are we doing this or not?”

I looked at the hole on the left, where the voice seemed to be coming from. My cock was fully upright and suddenly rather uncomfortable in confinement.

“Uh, yeah-yuh, I’m uh…” words stumbled out of my head as I worked open the zipper on my jeans. Still unable to free my erection, I undid my belt and opened my pants in the dark. As if on cue, a red light flickered on, and I felt emboldened. Delicately thumbing at the waistband of my boxer briefs, I pulled the fabric over the head of my cock and put myself on display inside the mudroom. There was a moment of silence before movement could be heard on the other side of the wall.

“You’re supposed to take everything off, that’s how it goes. Naked or nothing.”

Part of the wall suddenly sprung out towards my feet, and I jumped back in alarm.

“You’re new- put all your shit in here so we can see if you’re a cop before anything happens,”

“Oh, I’m not a cop-” I spat out, trying to be helpful.

“Strip and put everything in the drawer then… or get the fuck out,”

I held my posture for a minute, the only movement on my body being the pulse in my cock, as I weighed my options here. Again though, obedient hands beat a fogged brain, and I found myself pulling my shirt up over my head, and hopping around on one foot as I pulled my jeans off.

Trying to be as helpful as possible, I stupidly pulled out my wallet and splayed it open on top of my clothes. I stood there cold and naked as the drawer was pulled back into the wall. I yanked at my cock as my body drank in the scenario. I was naked and hard, in a tiny room being watched by strangers. I was young and built to fuck, but hadn’t had my needs met in months. The red light and my nudity were the red flag in front of a bull. I was rarin’ to go.

“Alright… Brian. Here’s what I want you to do now,” the panel behind one of the holes slid open abruptly, no light on behind it. “Step right up and put your hands through the wristbands above your head… go on.”

I moved towards the hole gazing up at the leather straps on the wall. I put my arms through the restraints, noticing the hand grips on the other side. The straps were quickly pulled tight around my wrists, and I found myself fastened to the wall. My chest was drawn to the black plywood, and my groin pushed forward into the waiting hole. My heart rate quickened as I felt a hand cup my testicles.

“Good boy Brian, fuck — look at the piece on this kid.” I could feel another hand work my foreskin as my ball sack was gently pulled. I closed my eyes as the tongue work began.

I’ll try to explain the feelings I was having at the time- but it will never replace the actual experience.

Completely naked in a strangers mudroom, observed by a security camera and separated from every stitch of clothing and ID, here I was, tried to a wall, bucking into a hole.

It was completely aggravating, and nothing that I would have ever expected- what from all the glory hole porn I’d watched. I didn’t have any power whatsoever. I wasn’t simply sticking my cock into some whore’s mouth and owning her throat- I had literally thrust myself into a strangers trust.

So there I was, wildly humping Ankara escort bayan about, trying to find every lick and nibble of my cock. They were an experienced pair behind the wall, reading how close I was and being delicate and deliberate with their actions. It was like being pulled back from the edge of fucking, cheating the mere idea of an orgasm and arousing me deeper and deeper with every passing second.

There would be a brief period of work on my balls before I’d get deep throated, forcing a guttural moan from my belly. Then a mouth would slurp at my dick, getting me close to cumming, just as a hand would tug at my scrotum – the pain pulling me back to earth. It was an exhausting roller coaster of sensations, so much so that I barely realized when an arm reached out from the hole beside me to grip and pull at my ass.

“Oh god, please let me cum, fuck- I need to cum so bad, please just let me cum,”

“You fucking wanna cum little man, huh? Brian wants his daddy to suck his little cock does he?”

“Mmmm, yes- please. Please just let me cum,”

“Say it! Call me daddy!”

“Fdsfmg, fuuug- please daddy-“

“What does little Brian want?”

“Brian wants daddy to suck his little cock, pleeeeease Daddy, just let me cum”

A flurry of mouths and hands gobbled me up on the other side of the wall, and I pushed hard against the plywood trying to feel every last lick. I clenched my eyes shut and drooled on the wall as I felt my ass pulled open further. I was on my tippy toes as I finally hit my limit, bucking forward as I shot my load into a strangers mouth.

My hands tightened on the grips as I shot 9 successive volleys of cum into the glory hole. I whimpered as my body slackened, pulling at the restraints. Mouths nursed my deflating penis as I drifted back to earth.

The voice behind the wall changed to a quieter, gentler tone- instructing me on how to extricate myself from the restraints as I shifted my weight around. The drawer pushed out of the wall with my clothes and I sat on the floor to get dressed. I could barely stand, I was so light headed.

“So Brian, that was fun – are you good?”

I stifled a laugh as I pulled on my briefs. This was such a weird transaction. “Yuh, yeah- I’m — thanks for that. Thank you, I-“

“Alright, you’ve got a lovely prick on you- we’d love to have you again… but there are rules okay?”

I nodded, before realizing the need to be vocal.

“Sure, of course-“

“We want to enjoy this, but respect everyone’s anonymity, okay?”

I dressed in the red light as I listened to the detailed set of rules for the glory hole. They had a signal outside to let guys know they were open, there were rules about how to approach the hole, how to interact with other men we’d meet in the mudroom, and of course, a promise to never socialize or acknowledge each other if we met on the street. I consented to everything as I pulled my shoes on, with my hosts closing up and saying their goodbyes. They turned off the red light and I could hear them shuffle off into the house as I kneeled forward.

My face got close to the hole and my cock twitched as I momentarily began to imagine how it would be, on the other side of the wall.

* * * * * * *

I found myself able to wake up the next day guilt free, mentally chalking up my visit to the glory hole as another adventure in weed. Its likely my mind would have drifted back to the mudroom the next time I went to rub one out, but as luck would have it- everything took a turn for the worse.

Beth had begun having stomach pains, then severe cramping. A trip to the emergency room one night revealed a mutual fear; she had miscarried.

It was a horrific array of emotions between the two of us within a very short period of time. The engagement and wedding had been a whirlwind, as had the move into the suburbs. I had barely spent any time at my new job when we lost the baby, but I felt the need to be with Beth as we processed things.

At first there was the grief, and the mourning as you would expect with any young married couple starting out. But as the days passed and the tears dried, we slipped into a more contemplative mood. The whole reason why we had married and started a life together was because of the unexpected pregnancy- and now that wasn’t a factor. I didn’t know who I could talk to about it, and waited for Beth to speak up. It was difficult because before the miscarriage, we had begun to dislike one another- but the panic and the turmoil brought us closer together. I felt a protective instinct while we were in the emergency room, and found myself deeply concerned with Beth’s well being. Returning home broken and sorrowful left us moving- almost hourly- between intimacy and repulsion.

I guess the idea of the baby had been an excuse for us to be together, performing as a couple for everyone despite having no real connection. With such an instant change, what the fuck were we even doing? It was like freedom and disappointment at the same time, and I couldn’t handle it. In the weeks Escort Ankara that followed Beth and I fought and reconciled, some times playing at being husband and wife, other times completely withdrawn from one another. Again, bad roommates. One night in particular we’d had a few beers with dinner one Friday, and she came onto me super strong. She accused me of thinking her ugly and broken as she straddled me on the couch, demanding I fuck her. I was initially horrified and tried to deescalate things, but she started slapping me as she bounced up and down on my lap. My cock was hurting so I pushed her off and walked away. Beth ran up to the bedroom yelling insults about my manhood, and something flipped in me and I raced up after her.

She had removed her pants and laid slovenly on the duvet her mother had bought us, rubbing her mound and sneering at me.

“Can you even get it up anymore to fuck me?”

I unbuckled my belt and pushed my jeans and underwear to the floor, never breaking eye contact. The more she swore at me the harder my cock throbbed, and I crawled on the bed preparing to mount her. As my cock pushed inward, my hand went to her throat and I bore down on her tiny body.

I fucked her as a hole, wantonly ramming her cunt while staring at her dead eyed. I just relentlessly pounded on her until I began to see the alarm in her eyes. The spell broken, I guiltily withdrew my hand and slowed my pace. Never had I been so possessed before.

Caught off guard, and not doing my assigned task, Beth reared up and sent me flying backwards. My dick remained inside her as the power dynamic changed, and I could feel her powerful thighs grip my waist. Now it was Beth who curled her fingers around MY throat as she raised and lowered herself on my erection.

The lack of oxygen and the pain from her ass repeatedly slamming down on my groin made me want the hate fuck more and more. I tried to thrust up into her, but Beth’s eyes were wild, and she took control from me, moving to grind my cock against her g-spot.

“You fucking piece of shit, I fucking hate your tiny, useless cock. You can’t even fuck me right-” her movements intensified as she spat out in anger at me, “Don’t you dare fucking cum right now, don’t you fucking dare!” Her hand moved to furiously mash away at her clit as she rode me, taking the time to swat at my hands as I went to grab her hips.

I was being used, with no desire to change the scenario.

Stifling a groan, I silently shot my load into Beth hoping she wouldn’t notice. When the wetness became obvious, she cursed me under ragged breaths as she fapped away on herself.

“Fucking pathetic loser,” She hissed, before hunching over in orgasmic convulsions. Almost immediately she flopped onto her back, releasing my cock and bringing her knees up to her chest as she cupped her groin. Her face moving from anguish to relief as she lay there with eyes closed, briefly shuddering.

For my part, I lay perfectly still, holding my sensitive cock in hand while feeling my cum drip along my sides.

This would be as close as we’d get in a long time.

* * * * * * *

The next two months left Beth and I resigned to our fates, locked in a silent game of chicken waiting for the other person to crack and walk away first. We had put on the show of happy young married couple for too many people to just call it quits- someone had to be the villain.

Our mutual coping strategy was booze and avoidance. She went to yoga classes with girlfriends, and I doubled down on video games. By the time her erratic sleep schedule settled down, we grew further apart as night and day people.

It was late one night when I found myself in the downstairs powder room, jerking off to a lingerie catalogue, that I said fuck this. I put on my jacket and fished out a joint from the inside pocket. I was headed back to the park for a smoke, and if I was lucky – the mudroom was open.

* * * * * * *

* * * * * * *

At least once a week for the next sixth months, I would visit my glory hole friends. While I had never seen them out in public, neighbourhood chatter informed me that they were an aging gay couple, both named Alan (different spellings). They were described in politely feminine terms and seen as largely harmless old guys. For whatever reason, their successful facade made our activities that much hotter.

Typically, I would take my midnight smoke and stroll while Beth was sleeping- walking to the park and looking to see if the Alans had turned on their garden lamp outside. That was the signal, a dotty old patio light speared in amongst the bushes they could turn on from the house. When it came time for my visits though, I’d selfishly twist the light as I passed, loosening the bulb and extinguishing the signal. I had remembered seeing two men in the mudroom that first night, and was determined to keep my sessions solo and on the down low.

The way I saw it, I wasn’t gay. I was just getting my dick sucked. Wife gave up on sex, so I was getting my rocks off elsewhere. No harm no foul. Whatever bullshit I moaned over in the mudroom, whatever scenarios I ran around in my head in that space- that was all cosmic sex brain doing whatever I needed to get off. Having another dude beside me in the holes, that would not only kill the vibe, but possibly end my suburban house dad life as I knew it.

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The Kid

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Author’s note: All of the characters in this story are of age, 18+.


You would appreciate the look on my face at the bar. A vapid, neutral smile, which I force up to my eyes the way you always told me to. I am fully the creep now, old as I am. He is the young guy, available – deliciously available to me, with his large hands, blockish arms, what, twenty-four? twenty-five? Half my age. Two and a half decades ago, I was him, well, in spirit if not in affect. Out on the town, looking for a good time. Though I never had a body like that, good god.

And today, tonight, me, out at a bar like I’m a twenty-something? How ridiculous. Really, though, it feels like it could be just a few weekends ago, in the slippery slide of time. What? A thousand weekends ago? He has hands like that one porn star I like, in spite of myself, in spite of your eye rolls, the thick one. In the one about the salad. The taste of gin in my mouth because you always liked gin and I despise it, the sour, acidic taste of it, the unpleasant bite behind the molars. Jaxton something, that’s his name, I think.

Here I am in my nice jeans, trim for a man my age, for an old creep, in my trim jacket, my beard trimmed, my sails neatly trimmed, thanks to the gin. My male pattern baldness on display, disclosed. Nature’s changing course, untrimm’d. Very nicely buzzed. A cocktail at the hotel with a few colleagues before ducking out and walking here, to this bar, not overfull yet at this hour. Then a gin and tonic, no, no, the good stuff please, I slide my card across the bar. Keep it open. A polite smile. Yes sir. He might as well have said, OK, grandpa.

You’re young until you’re not, and by then it’s too late. But the young are forever young and it is not possible, there is not even the faintest glimmer of becoming old, of being thirty, forty, or – gasp – fifty. Fifty! Did you ever think we’d be fifty? You always said gin tasted like Christmas. A paroxysm of winter juniper in the mouth, you said. I’ll give you a paroxysm in your mouth, I said. Those heady days, the winter we spent shivering in that tiny, drafty flat in So Ho, curled together, drunk with the improbability of it, of finding one another. Your hand in mine, your golden eyes, your body against me. The bubble of us, safe from the rain and death swirling outside.

The kid, Jaxton, comes to stand next to me. Dark, curly hair and bright blue eyes. He stands next to me, like, casual. Just stands there. Not close, but not not close. I get it, after a beat. I know what I am supposed to do even though I feel ridiculous. I turn to face him. Hi there. What are you drinking? His easy smile. He is effortlessly young, in his body. All muscles and cum. He’s big, built solid. Taller and bigger than me, like a young cat with his big paws and pearly teeth. So young and unrumpled. Why is he here, smiling at me? Probably some sort of hustler. Going to lure me off to some back alley where he and his mates will jump me, punch me hard in the guts, knock the wind out of me and take my wallet, laughing while I writhe on the pavement.

Or maybe he’s just a horny kid, John. With the hots for daddy. Is it so hard to think that you might be attractive at your advanced age? Your voice in my head, urging me on. Your laugh, ringing in my ears. Your hand in mine, in the bed in the bright blue room. Too bright. You said you knew you always hated blue for a reason, grinning, grimacing, through the pain. Promise me that you won’t wallow in this, you maudlin shit. Get out there again, enjoy what remains of your waning libido, will you, old man? Another grin, another grimace.

I thought austerity might help. I cut out sugar, then carbs. Then alcohol. Then coffee. That was a real bear, but the headaches and the bleary fog of the days was something of a relief, a welcome absence from myself. And at night, sleep. Bona fide sleep. But, despite the satisfying bite each compounded austerity, each triumphant shedding, I didn’t find the ultimate blankness I was seeking. Turns out throwing emptiness into emptiness doesn’t work.

I’ll have what you’re having, he says. Two G and T’s please, I say, with a wink to the barkeep, himself a pleasantly curated specimen. So well groomed, these boys. Meticulously crafted, hair, skin, clothing. They must see right through me. This tasteful denim and jacket ensemble, the close-cropped hair – through to the sweatpanted nights at home, in bed at eight with our tea and popcorn and a shitty movie. Don’t flatter myself, I hear you berating me. You think he is looking at you that hard, old man? You think he cares? Live in the moment! Touch him, for fuck’s sake!

I put my arm on the kid’s shoulder, pull him in to bark something witty into his ear. It’s getting loud in here. He laughs into his drink and I feel a hitch in my pants as I gaze down at his chest, the smooth skin visible at his neck. He shifts his body toward me and reaches up to pull my ear towards his lips. If I told you that he came back with something equally witty, would you believe me? Up close, his eyes are more gray than blue. He smells divine.

At some Ankara escort point I started walking. Hiking. I don’t know what the right term for it is. My trudge, I call it, my ranging, out in the desert. I could hardly bear to be in the house alone. Yes, at night, and no, I don’t want to hear about it. It is safe enough. I was so out of shape in the beginning that I didn’t get too far. But after a while I found I could go for hours. Hours and hours, weeks, months. I went back to work of course, and I had to start flying out again, those horrible red eyes to the east coast. But there was something about being out there, in the moonlight. The grit of the trail under my feet, moving like a shadow through the rocks. I became obsessed, addicted.

I watch him move among other bodies, his hand on a back, a shoulder, a thigh. Men he must know. Men he’s no doubt been with, fucked. I watch him dance. No, of course I don’t dance. I’m installed at the bar, weirdly chatty, an extrovert all of a sudden. I am in town for work. Yes, from the UK originally. Wow, you don’t say? Now that is interesting. Who knew that there were actual conversations to be had here, at these bars, among the old creep brigade. Perhaps, at bar time, we will settle for each other. If our desperate, baited hooks cast into the thronging mass of young flesh, in the form of free drinks, don’t land us a whopper.

The stakes are so low, maybe that’s why the words are flowing out of me so freely, so free from anxiety. No, no, the stakes really are that low. Abysmally low. Please allow me to have this moment of low self-esteem and non-expectation, OK? It is what it is. Your most-hated phrase. I buy some more people some more drinks. Drinks, drinks for everyone! What is money, after all? What good is disposable income if not to dispose of it like this? I am the man of the hour. This what you wanted, right?

I feel a tug at my belt-loop and a moment later I am making out with Jaxton at the end of the bar. Yes, like a trashy slag. The creep brigade is eyeing me jealously, I have betrayed them. There are a lot more people here now. How long has it been since I’ve had my tongue in someone’s mouth? I’m a little surprised and disappointed at how easy it is. I’d forgotten it was this easy, startled to realize that I’ve been wearing ruby slippers the whole time. I paw at his crotch and feel his erection. Might as well strike while the iron is hot.

Bless his heart, Jaxton is smiling at me like a puppy. A puppy I want to fuck. That might be a line too far, creep-wise. Now that I am not young, all my thoughts are suspect. He will fall in love with me, beg me to come with him to Indiana for Thanksgiving. Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, John, from Britain (cringe), who is wearing a sport coat and a turtleneck. Pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Jaxton, your home is exceptionally lovely. You are, horrifically, my age. I brought you a bottle of sparkling rosé. Charmed, they most certainly are not.

My parents, don’t worry about them, you said. They are appalling snobs. The accent will be enough. And it was, exactly as you said. They won’t be able to contain themselves, the prospect of trotting you out at their ridiculous garden party, you said. Oh, John, you absolutely MUST come back to the cape in May for our little shindig. A wink from you, a nervous chuckle from me. Of course, of course, Diane, I’d be delighted. Your jovial parents, cold as ice under all that linen, you said. And you were right, again. Chuck and Diane. I haven’t heard much from them, since. A phone call. A card on my birthday, with a check. A check? My hands shook as I ripped it up. A fucking check?

You wanna get out of here? Sure. Off we go. He makes out with me, drunkenly, in the cab. The driver shoots me a look in the rear view mirror. What can you do, I shrug. I mean, kids these days, amiright? He chuckles when I tip him exorbitantly. The kid whistles appreciatively when we enter the lobby of the hotel. Good evening, Mr. Chamberlain. Rounding the corner, he grabs my ass and whispers drunkenly in my ear. Mmm, yes, enjoy your rough trade this evening, Mr. Chamberlain. I told you he had a sense of humour.

It’s not particularly late, and there are two elderly couples in the elevator with us, dressed fancily, probably on their way back from a show. Jaxton and I reek of gin, and he has the giggles, you know how much I hate elevators, and other people’s discomfort, so when he starts nuzzling my neck you can imagine the scene and my distress. Why must mirrors be affixed to every surface of an elevator? A thousand sweaty Jaxtons lick my thousand ears while uncounted eyes try desperately not to notice.

In the room, though, my bashfulness is gone and we are all over each other. His shirt and pants come off and it becomes clear that clothes, for my dear Jaxton, are an unfortunate encumbrance. His body makes so much more sense like this, naked. Muscle, hair, warm, supple flesh wrapped around his large frame, and all of it presented to me, offered to me like a piece of bread tossed to a flock of ravenous ducks. Ankara escort bayan And I am ravenous.

I don’t quite recognize myself in this body, surely you wouldn’t either, it’s quite a shock, this new rangy body I have. I’m all wire and sinew, fringed with gray. I’m square where he is round, I’m tough, lanky, slim. He is big and blunted, a bully dog. His fingers must be good at elastic, Velcro, I imagine, but the buttons of my shirt pose a challenge. I help him out, take a break from his mouth and lips to put a few feet between us and get out of my clothes. I admit I’m giddy as a teenager, I may even be smiling. He is smiling, is it amusing to watch an old man hop around with his foot stuck in the cuff of his jeans?

He says he likes my hairy chest, whether or not it’s true, whether or not he’s put off by the coarse, silver hairs that have taken over there, everywhere, it doesn’t stop him from running his hands over me, pulling my underwear down and affixing his mouth to my cock. Despite the drink, and the voice in my head saying, “really, Johnny?”, I’m hard. Pretty damned hard.

Our first night together, trading sloppy blowjobs in a dirty bathroom after meeting on the tube. What made you approach me? I never got a satisfactory answer out of you. Such a confident young prick you were, a real guy’s guy, an American, a dead ringer for a young Clint Eastwood. Amusing, magnetic, even with that ridiculous haircut. And what about your haircut, you always said. And I, chagrined, would admit that, yes, I was going through a Bowie phase, can you blame me? Like any self-respecting, up-by-my-bootstraps, council estate to Ox Bridge twat of that era. It always did embarrass you, our seedy beginning, whether you admitted it or not. But neither of us knew what was coming. How could we? Just a couple of lads out for a good time that night. Then you, back at mine, passed out, and in the morning, you, your hair plastered adorably across your face, smiling, coffee, not leaving, not wanting to break the spell. I made you eggs. God, you were so dishy. And that was that.

Hell’s bells, this kid can really polish a knob. Are the gay youth of America, in their entirety, so gifted in the fellatory arts? In my time it was equal parts teeth and and a prayer, you know, those early days cruising the woods down by the river. You were so curious about that. How I’d sneak down to the park, late at night. The rush of adrenaline when I’d see a dark shadow leaning against a tree that certain way, the glowing end of his fag twitching in a beckoning motion. How I’d drop to my knees and wait for the cock to come fumbling out, trick or treat, the stories you told me. Maybe this time I’ll get the king-size candy bar. You were surprised I never got beat up, or worse… and I struggled to describe to you the camaraderie out there, among all of us queers. The feeling that we were all in this place together, this shithole, eking out whatever pleasure we could in our perversion, our subversion.

Good god damn. I’m going to orgasm in this kid’s mouth. He seems to sense it and pulls off of me, jerks me hard, too fast for me to stop it, and then my semen is spilling all over him, his lips and his stubbled face. So ridiculous, orgasm. Ejaculate, cum, in his hair, in his open mouth, across his wide, pink tongue. He laughs. This is just another Saturday night. He asks if he can use the bathroom. By all means, make yourself at home, I say. I marvel as his big, milk-fed body moves through space, across the room, disappearing around the corner.

The years blur. I try to pick them apart out there, under the moon in the desert, pry open the past, sift though the sleepless working years, working so hard, moving up and up, the big promotion, the next, and the next. The houses, the furniture, the moves. When was Arizona? Was it 2005? No, it had to have been before then. Measuring time in paper. And after a certain point, we, the two of us, what were we, even? Fixtures, furniture ourselves. A lamp. A coffee table.

When did I stop seeing you and just expect you to be there, like a limb, an arm or a leg? There when I take a step, there when I reach for something. You, Eastwood, the hard man, turned out to be the one who bent. Bent so far for me, and at the cost of what? Your own career, your friends, even your goddamned cat. Poor little Jingle Bell, given away in London to that family with those two little girls, how excited they were, and how sad you were. Perhaps the only time I saw you cry. And me? I thought, yes. This is the way of things. Why wouldn’t it be?

I suppose it is a kind of love to take someone for granted. A nice, quiet, suburban love. A fly-over love. A warm depression in the bed to roll into when you get up in the morning kind of love. Was it the parts of you that I stopped seeing, the palpable masses of you that I neglected, that ultimately went rotten? I’d give anything to have it back, that rumpled, familiar, boring chafe. Wearing me away like sandpaper, driving me crazy. It’s a kind of love, to be able to layer hurt after hurt onto the person Escort Ankara that you love the most. And then, only perceive the boundaries of that love by the enormity of its collapse.

He’s back, pulling me up off the bed, come take a shower with me, you sexy fuck. A sexy fuck? Moi? Oh, how flattering. And then the water is thundering down around us, and his mouth is on mine again, his stubby, fat cock is poking me in the stomach. My hand encircles his considerable girth, oh, the anxiety-inducing girth of him, given how long it’s been, how many Saturday nights ago has it been? But we are wet and clean and there is fresh gin from the minibar coursing through our veins. I am hard again, miraculously, and he’s sucking my cock, again, in the shower, and my hands are on his ass, and his hands are on my ass, and then in my ass, pushing into me — me, another conquest, another trick. I let him penetrate me with his bulbous finger. There is excitement in the sharp pain.

Condoms are passé, I find out, back in the enormous bed. Up this high, the lights of the city are mere colored flashes in the window, the din of the street a distant roar far below. Humour me, I say, and, grudgingly, he dons the latex. Latex, what am I, some kind of dinosaur? These young people, how do they justify it, fucking past the past, past the fear, the dead and dying? Perhaps they don’t even know about it, you suggest, quietly, from the chair in the corner of the room, as you watch.

When did you know something was wrong? When was your first inkling? Was it a twinge, a nagging ache as you sat there in the chair, the hideous black and white one in our bedroom, watching me get fucked? You convinced me that it was OK, that you were OK with it, that you understood that I needed the rush, the release. You knew what I needed before I did, I suppose, when I was wound so tightly, the crazy stress of my job, knew what I craved. And in your love, you gave it to me. I let you give it to me. I partook selfishly, ravenously. Little did I know there was something wrong, wrong, wrong. That there was something eating you. Eating you up as you sat there, watching.

This kid, Jaxton, he gives it to me good. That fat knob of his, holy christ. You like that? he keeps saying, ridiculously. But I do, I do like it. I had given myself over to the likelihood that I would never be fucked again. And now, this first time back into the fray, fucked. By this beast of a kid, this muscular young Jaxton. I open to him, a house of sticks, not straw, not bricks. I open to him, and feel his thrusts, his cock occupying the space of me, stretching me, filling me.

Something was eating you. Quite literally. I didn’t see it, recognize it. Wasting you from the inside, a hunger, a force that consumed your brilliance, your easy smile, your swagger, your generosity. For a long time, I blamed my stupid hunger, that seemingly insatiable hunger I had. For what? For stimulation, for advancement? For sex? For my paper life. Money, influence, prestige. You, American, never truly grasped the innate need I had to transcend my station. You, effortlessly valid, destiny manifest in your exquisite body, the flash in your eyes, a real boy. And me, a velveteen rabbit, born on the wrong side of the tracks, born hungry.

I suppose I still do blame myself. It’s patently true that my appetites burdened you. And yet, through it all, you gave yourself over completely to me. You gave in, time after time, year after year. You, sitting there, watching me now with this kid, and before, with this guy and that, giving me permission. I suppose I thought I deserved it. For how hard I’d worked. For how far I’d come.

God, I love getting fucked, the visceral thrill of being impaled by an eager man with a raging cock. After the kid unburdens himself of his prodigious load, into the condom, of course, he faces me, in the bed. Will you fuck me? He asks tenderly, tentatively. Such a sweet, guileless question, will you fuck me? I laugh out loud. I know what you’re thinking. Spare me, I’m embarrassed enough as it is. What depths of prehistory are we mining here – me, fucking? I don’t even remember. Probably when I was his age, or younger, fooling around at Uni.

Yes I know I’m dithering. Hold your horses. OK, yes, so I fucked him, I pushed my cock in between his glorious muscled buttocks. Did I wear a condom? I did ask, I insisted! And then he insisted. No, no, old man. No. It’s fine, it’s no big deal. So, to my chagrin, I did. Fuck the past. I pushed my bare cock into him, warm and supple. I fucked him and I ejaculated inside him, pulsed him with my vintage seed, loaded him up. It’s OK, he assured me. I’m on PrEP. Oh, OK, kid.

And then, what, minutes pass. We lie there, my limp cock pressed against him, dripping with semen. He snuggles himself closer to me and I think of the poor housekeeper, the cleaning woman, tomorrow, who will strip the sheets off the bed and notice the stains. Our privilege, Jaxton’s and mine, not to have to think about that. I am suddenly worried, horrified. Oh god, is he going to sleep here, stay the night? Relax, Johnny, you say. Put your arm around him. It’s OK. You need this. He’s already asleep, snoring softly. And indeed I am grateful for this warm body, the smooth expanse of his back, his rhythmic, unburdened breath. I stare into the curly mass of dark hair at the back of his head and close my eyes.

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Silver and Gold Ch. 04

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Still slowly burning… don’t worry, sex is coming in later chapters. I’m just enjoying the feels. XOXO, Im


Gneiss swirled her wineglass as she looked out over the crowd in the Meeting Tree from her ornately embroidered chaise lounge. As usual the enormous tree echoed with the sounds of faeries laughing, dancing, and mingling. Nearly all the seating areas had been filled early in the night and the party was in full swing.

The air was charged with sex and frenetic energy. The dance floor in the center of the hollowed out tree was already filled with undulating bodies. She watched as a group of faeries stumbled into one of the lounging areas at the edge of the dance floor and tumbled down in a pile of writhing limbs.

Mal and Daniella were seated on the dais at the far end of the tree, watching the festivities. Daniella was sitting on Mal’s lap and he was whispering something in her ear. Daniella’s eyes were trained on a female faery riding her lover at the edge of the dance floor. Mal was lazily stroking a hand up and down Daniella’s thigh. Gneiss wouldn’t be surprised if the two of them ended up fucking right there on the throne. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She shifted to look around the tree again. She’d lost track of Feldspar. When they’d arrived he had taken one look at Mal and Daniella on their throne and had walked off into the crowd. Watching Feldspar work the crowd was like watching a rabbit move through a field by tracking the waving grass it left in its wake. She couldn’t see him, but everywhere he’d been the faeries were louder, brighter, happier. He had that effect on people. It was hard to say if it was a subtle bit of magic or just his natural charm. He was hilarious and charismatic when he was on, and these days he took pains to make sure he was almost always on. She scanned the crowd, trying to trace the trail of euphoria he’d left as he moved around the tree. The last time she’d had eyes on him he’d been draining a nearly overflowing glass of mead before disappearing again into the throng.

That left her with Nephrite, her other long-time roommate. Nephrite sipped her wine and gazed out across the frolicking faeries. She saw Gneiss scanning the crowd and gestured across the tree. Feldspar was laughing uproariously with a few faeries standing near the entrance to the tree.

“He is a remarkable actor,” Nephrite said, playing with a strand of her silken black hair.

Gneiss sighed deeply. She ran a hand through her pixie cut and frowned. She had to agree with Nephrite. Feldspar was a good actor. If she hadn’t known him for half her life she would have trusted his easy laugh and playful banter. “I despise seeing him like this,” she said. “I miss hearing his true laugh.”

“As do I,” Nephrite agreed.

Gneiss sighed. “I feel as if I have tried all that I can to help him. Nothing seems to make a material difference.”

Nephrite made a noncommittal noise. Gneiss looked sharply at her friend. Nephrite was quiet, and because she was quiet she was able to watch in a way that most could not. Gneiss had learned many years before that though Nephrite spoke infrequently, when she did it was imperative to listen.

“What have I missed?” she demanded.

“What was it that Feldspar wanted from Mal? The one thing that Mal was never able to give him?”

“He wanted Mal to stay with us.”

“Yes, but why?” Nephrite pressed.

“I suppose he was in love with Mal.”

“Yes, precisely. He always hoped that Mal would fall in love with him, and when he finally, unequivocally ended the relationship all of Feldspar’s hopes were dashed. Feldspar has always been romantic at heart.”

“I love him,” Gneiss groused. Nephrite gave her a dry look. “Yes, alright, fine. I can admit that I’m not what he needs right now.”

“Do you think you and Mal together were what he needed?” Nephrite’s tone was quiet and sharp. Gneiss frowned as the question settled in her stomach, leaden and painful. She sighed. No, she and Mal had never been wholly good for Feldspar. As good as the sex had been, as good as their friendship had been, Feldspar had always wanted something more. Gneiss steeled herself and met Nephrite’s eyes and the quiet rebuke there.

“No,” she said evenly. “We were not, and I admit we should have been more careful with Feldspar’s heart. What am I to do about it now?”

Nephrite hummed. “Feldspar needs to be with someone who looks at him the way he used to look at Mal. He also needs friends who respect his feelings and at least make an attempt at amends for past carelessness.”

Gneiss sucked her teeth. “I have tried — I cannot just produce a new lover for him out of thin air.” Nephrite clicked her tongue dismissively in response. Shame and frustration warred within Gneiss. Nephrite wasn’t wrong. She needed to find a way to make it up to Feldspar, and so did Mal.


Silver blinked in the multicolored lights of the Meeting Tree and paused in the doorway taking in the scene. The wild faery Ankara bayan escort music pulsed through him, fiddles, pipes and drums calling to him to join the mass of wild joy on the dance floor.

He scanned the room for the green-haired faeries who tended the orchards and gardens. He had brought back some seeds he wanted them to help him grow for a kitchen garden. His black thumb was legendary, but they could get anything to thrive. The tree was packed wall to wall and the party had already reached a feverish pitch. He silently cursed himself for getting carried away making cheesecake, even though the extra time had resulted in flawless, creamy texture. Now it was late and everyone he had wanted to talk to was probably smashed, high out of their mind, or screwing on the dance floor.

He spotted a few shocks of green hair in the mass of bodies on the dance floor and sighed. He was tempted to just go back to his place, which only made him feel more like an out-of-place loser. He would take a quiet beer with friends over a gigantic rave any day.

Just as he was about to go, a peal of loud laughter caught his attention. Silver looked toward the sound and froze. Feldspar was a few dozen paces off to his right, with a group of faeries hanging on his every word. Feldspar ran a hand through his golden hair, pushing the slightly sweat-dampened curls back from his face as he talked, his other hand still gesturing wildly. Silver couldn’t help but take in the perfect lines of Feldspar’s body. His shirt was tight over his honey skin and every time he moved it revealed a strip of taut skin at his waist. Silver wanted to grab Feldspar by the hand, find a dark corner, and rip his shirt off. The tantalizing glimpses of skin weren’t nearly enough.

Silver shook his head and cursed silently. He was losing it. He glanced back at the door. He could leave and Feldspar would never know he’d been there. He wanted to get to know Feldspar, but not here. Not now. Not at this party. He felt off-balance and out of his element. The idea of Feldspar realizing that he didn’t fit in at all was unsettling.

Silver had spent more than his fair share of time thinking about the faery man. He’d obsessed over the way Feldspar had lit his body on fire in their one night together months before. Little snatches of Feldspar had taken over his brain: Feldspar laughing with his friends; Feldspar sparring with the Lord of the Wood, sweat dripping down his smooth chest; Feldspar moaning in delight over a banquet; Feldspar floating serenely in the crater lake, Feldspar, Feldspar, Feldspar. All those little Feldspar snippets had coalesced into a full-blown, teenage-obsession-level crush. All he was missing was a Feldspar poster above his bed.

It was mortifying. If he left quickly he’d be spared the risk of humiliating himself. He reminded himself again why he needed to get his feelings for Feldspar under control. One: Feldspar was the Lord’s Sword. He lived in a completely different world from Silver that was all high magic and dire consequences and fated lovers. Two: Feldspar seemed different since Silver had returned. He still laughed and joked, but there was a deep undercurrent of sadness that worried Silver. He wasn’t sure Feldspar was in the right headspace for a relationship. Three, last but definitely not least: Feldspar was a flirt who slept with people all the time. Their one night together had meant everything to Silver, and probably nothing to Feldspar.

As Silver debated, the group of faeries broke into laughter again. Feldspar’s laugh was coming out in choked barks and there was tightness around his eyes. Silver frowned. That had to be the fakest imitation of Feldspar’s real laugh he’d ever seen, though nobody else seemed to notice. They were still laughing and slapping Feldspar on the back. Silver moved toward the group without thinking. All he could think was that he needed to rescue Feldspar. Whatever was happening, he clearly wasn’t enjoying it.

“Hey guys,” he called out as he approached. His heart hammered in his chest. This was the worst part of any party: the moment right before finding out if you fit in. He knew there were a fair number of the faeries in the Wood who didn’t trust him. In their view any faery who spent half the year among humans was hardly a faery at all. The faeries with Feldspar watched his approach, their faces ranging from disinterested to disdainful.

None of that mattered when Silver locked eyes with Feldspar. Feldspar’s strained laugh stopped and his face broke into a beautiful grin. He was looking at Silver like he was the only life preserver on a sinking ship. It was adorable and embarrassing at once. Silver felt himself smiling back as he shouldered his way to Feldspar’s side.

Feldspar made introductions and effortlessly included Silver in the group, bringing every conversation around to Silver’s travels or cooking. Silver felt himself relaxing and actually enjoying himself, even though the other faeries were Escort bayan Ankara still a bit aloof. All that mattered was that his stories had Feldspar guffawing with real laughter and wiping away tears. He was hyperaware of how close he was to Feldspar. The air between their bodies seemed to vibrate like an open current. Every time Silver spoked, Feldspar leaned slightly closer to him, making the air crackle between them. He kept catching Silver’s eye and giving him the dopiest smile. Silver liked this version of Feldspar. He knew it wasn’t smart, but he loved being the one who brought out this happy, relaxed Feldspar.

At a lull in the conversation one of the other faeries pulled out a vial of white powder. “Shall we take our trip?” he said. He held it out to Feldspar, belatedly shifting his gaze to invite Silver as well. Silver stiffened but he said nothing. He felt all the faeries’ eyes on him as all his awkwardness and nerves came back to him tenfold. He didn’t dare look at Feldspar. The last thing he wanted was to be a wet blanket if Feldspar had been planning to party with these guys.

Feldspar leaned even closer to Silver and the back of his hand brushed against Silver’s, feather light. “A generous offer, but none for me tonight,” Feldspar said.

The faery holding the vial laughed in a way that made Silver want to punch him. He was looking at Feldspar like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Tomorrow then,” the faery said knowingly. He barely looked at Silver, taking his mute head shake as a foregone conclusion. The other faeries snorted the powder and drifted off, lost in their own world. Silver watched them blend into the writhing, wild crowd of the party. He hated the way they had made him feel, and hated even more that he let them affect him. He had never felt like he fit in, and now seeing the way that they treated the Lord’s literal golden boy he wondered if it had more to do with some faeries just being assholes than who either of them were.

“Would you like to join me for a drink?” Feldspar asked, gesturing toward a partially enclosed sitting area nearby. A low divan had been set against the wall of the tree and piled with embroidering silk cushions, surrounded on either side by a silk canopy. Silver nodded and Feldspar took his hand, guiding him through the crowd. Silver moved a low table carved from a tree stump over and Feldspar set two glasses of wine down on the table. They settled on the divan, their sides close but not touching.

As soon as they got comfortable Silver felt Feldspar tense. He glanced at him and saw a flash of irritation flit across his face. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Feldspar glanced at him guiltily and took a huge sip of his wine. “Of course,” he said. Silver watched him for a second and then let it drop. He saw a faery passing with a platter of his mushroom appetizers and waved her over, glad for something that he knew would put Feldspar in a good mood.

“These. Are. The best,” Feldspar exclaimed as he grabbed one off the considerable platter and popped it in his mouth. He moaned theatrically. “Leave the plate,” he said, his voice suddenly the voice of one who had commanded legions. The other faery’s eyes widened and she nearly dropped the plate onto their table in her haste to obey.

Silver choked on his wine, half laughing, half flustered. He couldn’t help but flash back to the time they’d fucked. Feldspar had started out so soft and subby, all doe eyes looking up at him as he knelt to suck Silver’s cock like a pro. By the end of the night he’d taken control, grabbing Silver by the hair and taking him roughly from behind. Both versions of Feldspar had been perfect and it drive Silver to distraction thinking about the possibilities they could explore. Apparently the next time he wanted to unleash Feldspar’s latent dominant side all he needed was a plate stuffed mushrooms.

“Those are magic,” Feldspar said, pointing at the plate he’d already emptied.

Silver laughed. “Those are literally the least magical thing in this entire place.”

“No, you’re magical.” Feldspar insisted. He rested the side of his face against the wall, facing Silver. “I’m so glad you came tonight. I was feeling so awful, and then you fed me those and I could not even remember why I had been upset. Where’d you learn to make them?”

“Funny story, actually. My buddy, Brody, the one at Le Cordon Bleu. I love him but that dude is one beer short of a six-pack, especially when we were younger. I met him at this little bistro in Saint Louis. We were both working prep in the back and he was always getting in trouble. The kitchen manager couldn’t stand him, and Brody fucking loved finding ways to screw with him. He’d do stuff like come in early and switch the direction of the fridge door, or change all the pens in the entire restaurant to bright purple ones. Just pointless stuff like that to drive the manager crazy.

“So we’re there prepping for the Saturday night rush on a holiday weekend, Bayan escort Ankara expecting the place to be completely packed. We were way overbooked plus we were short-staffed. The kitchen manager comes in completely freaking out. He’d ordered beets for the salad special and our supplier didn’t have them. He was almost gonna cry, and just sure he was gonna get canned.”

Silver paused. He glanced at Feldspar giving himself a moment to bask in the warmth of Feldspar’s rapt attention. He gestured impatiently for Silver to continue.

“Right. So the kitchen manager was practically screaming and pissed off at Brody, saying all this stuff about it being his fault. I’m still not sure what happened, Brody would never say. Whatever he did, he never copped to it. But he stopped what he was doing right there and grabbed all these random things from the fridge and whipped out these incredible mushrooms as a replacement appetizer. He didn’t have a recipe, it was just pure flow. Those were the result: the most popular appetizer the restaurant had ever had. We had to run out partway through the dinner rush to get more mushrooms from every grocery store within a fifteen minute radius.”

Feldspar laughed. “These were his creation? Your friend must be the most magical human I have ever heard of.”

“Yeah, he can be a lot, but he’s also a genius in the kitchen. He did eventually get fired for screwing with the manager one too many times, but we always kept in touch. It was great seeing him in Paris.”

“Sounds like a good friend,” Feldspar said with a long sigh.

Silver snorted in response. “Yeah, he has his moments. He’s way wilder than me. I kept telling him when I was in Paris that he’s gotta slow down. We’ve both known chefs who did so much coke it permanently messed up their sense of smell. And more than one that had to go to rehab for drinking or pills. But he’s a good guy, just…. Like I said, he goes a lot harder than me.”

Feldspar thought back to how close he’d been to snorting… he wasn’t even sure what those faeries had been snorting. Hot shame flushed through him as he wondered what Silver thought of him. He’d always enjoyed a good party but even he knew he’d been flirting with disaster the last several months. His friends didn’t seem to notice, nor would most of the faeries who saw him as the life of the party. He had a feeling Silver saw through his act.

Silver saw the flicker of discomfort on his face and scooted closer. He bumped Feldspar’s shoulder with his own and smiled at him. “Relax, I’m not straight-edge or anything.”

“The last six months have been… a challenge,” Feldspar said. He gestured vaguely in front of them. Silver followed with his eyes. Directly across from them in Feldspar’s line of sight the Lord and Lady were wrapped around each other on the dais, moving sinuously, mouths open in ecstasy. He looked back at Feldspar’s pinched expression as understanding dawned on him.

“Oh shit,” Silver said as the pieces fell into place. Normally taking a new lover would not mean the Lord broke up with his existing ones. Faeries didn’t operate that way. But the Lady wasn’t a faery, she was human. Of course she had wanted the Lord to herself. Humans were like that.

“You got Twilighted,” he murmured. Feldspar gave him a blank look. “They’re Edward and Bella, and you were…” There was no nice way to finish that sentence, he realized too late.

“Superfluous?” Feldspar filled in. Silver gave him a sympathetic look. “Jilted? The butt of a cosmic joke?”

“That’s not what I was going to say. More like, I can’t believe the Lord bowed to a human’s sensibilities.”

“He loves her,” Feldspar said with a small shrug. “Deeply.”

“Yeah, but he chose her,” a woman he’d known for mere months, “over you?” a faithful lover, ally and friend he’d known for decades. Feldspar nodded jerkily at Silver’s words, both spoken and implied. Silver narrowly stopped himself from saying more.

As he processed all that Feldspar was telling him, Silver tried to overcome the sinking feeling in his stomach. He had had a crush on Feldspar for a long time, and it had only gotten worse after they’d slept together. Realizing now that Feldspar had been rebounding hard at the time — that he was clearly still rebounding — was jarring. It did explain a lot, though. Silver gave Feldspar a sympathetic look. “That sucks,” he said. “I can’t believe he did that to you.”

“Yeah,” Feldspar said in acknowledgement, sighing again. “It gets worse. Did you know he made me?” Silver shook his head, surprised Feldspar would mention something so taboo. Faeries were not born, but made when another life was sacrificed.

“In the Lord’s younger days he dominated on the battlefield. I was the product of a particularly fierce battle. So many fell that day that I was created… accidentally,” the final word came out so quietly that Silver had to strain to hear him. “It was so long ago I hardly remember it. I suppose I thought,” he sighed and glanced over at the dais. “– that I was special because he made me. That some day he would stop just fucking me and fall in love with me.” He sighed and stared up at the ceiling and made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “Just listen to me. I can’t believe I just told you all that. Honestly, I am getting better.”

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Dance Around The Pole One Last Time

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My name is Ken. One weekend my wife Laura was away with her friends. I decided to go to a strip club and see the show. The dancers were old and out of shape. I decided to stay for one more dancer. Her name was Amber. When Amber came out I recognized her. She was my sister-in-law Lynne. Lynne came out after her show to do some lap dancing. She was shocked to see me. I said I would wait out in the parking lot for her.

We went back to her place. Lynne didn’t want to put out. I changed her mind. I had her suck my cock and then I took her pussy. After all this I knew I had a problem. My wife wasn’ t interested in sex these days. Lynne was a younger woman. I knew there would have to be some changes made. After my wife returned from her trip I told her there was something I had to tell her.

“I’m filing for a divorce Laura”

She must have thought I was joking. I wasn’t joking. I said that she was more interested in spending my money on shopping trips than having sex with me. It was like I slapped her face. She started to sob. She said she would change her ways. I said that would last only a short time. She would be back to her old ways in short order. I got tired of listening to my wife’s bitching and moaning. I gathered up some clothes into a suitcase and I left.

I drove over to Lynne’s place. I told her it was over between between Laura and myself.

“What about us?” She asked.

I said I wanted to be with her from now on. It didn’t take Ankara escort long until we were in bed together. I had Lynne get on her hands and knees. I knelt behind her. My hands were on her hips as I slid into her warm pussy. We got into it. Lynne would push back and I rammed her tight hole. I could see Lynne’s tits jiggling as I gave my thick rod. Lynne was screaming for me to fuck her. I removed my hands from her hips. I reached out and pulled back on her hair.

I told Lynne she was my bitch. I was going to have her pussy anytime I wanted. This seemed to send Lynne’s pussy into a convulsion. She was gripping me hard with her pussy muscles. I had to admit that Lynne was one hot piece of ass. Lynne cried out that she wanted me to cum inside her. I pounded her for a few more minutes. I felt my cum rising up from the tip of my cock. I finally let go.

I showered Lynne’s tunnel with my love cream. I fantasized that I was coating her eggs with my potent seed. Lynne gripped me harder when she felt me unload. She squeezed every drop of my hot cum from me. Eventually we calmed down. My cock went soft and I pulled out. My cum came dribbling out of her hole and onto the bed. We fell onto the bed and began to kiss.

“You aren’t going back to Laura, are you?” She asked.

I said there was no way I was going back to my wife. I did have to set some things in motion. I went to a divorce lawyer to file the papers. I went back Ankara escort bayan to the house. Laura was there. She tried to talk me into staying. I said I wasn’t staying. In fact I was putting up the house for sale. She said I couldn’t do that. I said the house was in my name only. I also told her about my visit to the lawyer’s office. Laura knew it was for real now.

She wanted to know if I had found another woman. I told her no. It was none of her business anyway. I gathered up a few more things and I went back to Lynne’s place. I told her she needed to quit the adult dancing gig. I can’t have her being tempted by other men. She didn’t like that idea but she ended up agreeing to my demands. She didn’t go into work that night. We ended up fucking.

I was on my back and Lynne was rubbing her damp pussy lips across my prick. When I got sufficiently hard she lowered herself onto my cock. I split her pussy muscles and gave her the cock she needed. My hands were on her ass cheeks. I was pulling them apart. Lynne was bobbing up and down, pushing right down to the root. I asked her if she wanted my cum.

“I want your baby seed in me Ken!” She cried out to me.

I was surprised she said that she wanted me to seed her pussy. I kept giving her my cock. I stirred my shaft around, hitting her pussy walls. I had to admit, Lynne was a whore for my cock. She couldn’t get enough. I gave her a good dose of my cum that evening. Escort Ankara She practically screamed as I squirted my cream into her belly. I finished her off by flipping Lynne onto her back.

I climbed over her chest. My dripping cock was dangling above her mouth. I told her to open her lips. I slid my spent cock down her throat. She was gagging as I fed her my cum soaked shaft. She did clean me with her lips and tongue. afterwards Lynne said she had never done that before but she got so turned on being used like that. I knew things would work out with my new lover.

My divorce became sticky as Laura pitched a fit. She said I was abusing her. I had to give her additional money to shut her up. Finally I was free of that bitch. I told her to never contact me for any reason. The house would soon be sold. I was free and clear now. The day the house sold Lynne and I went out for dinner. Afterwards I took Lynne to bed. I had her on her back. I lifted her legs by her ankles. I folded her legs back and pushed my cock deep into her tunnel.

I stretched my legs out and gave her a fucking she wouldn’t soon forget. I told Lynne she was mine now. I said I was going to give her the big belly she wanted. Lynne’s eyes went wide when she heard that. I said I had a large load of my baby cream I was going to give her. I pumped my cock into her hot pussy. She said she was having one orgasm after another. She soon got my gift of cum.

I erupted inside her tunnel. I spitted out all of my cum load. Lynne milked me dry of all my sticky load. We both collapsed onto the bed afterwards. Lynne said this was the best thing that happened to her. I couldn’t have agreed more. Lynne got off of the birth control pills. We will be working towards her big belly shortly.

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Age Versus Virility

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Age versus Virility: Elderly Fantasies

Jonathan Sawyer

Marilyn Pevolitch was tall with very shapely legs and full breasts. Her hair was wavy, blond and fell down over her shoulders. She had listed her age as 38 on the web site although she seemed younger.

For weeks she had stood at Richard Lockhart’s bedside and manipulated his legs in the slow, deliberate way she had learned when she was a nurse in the Army, years ago, and assigned to the rehabilitation ward at a veterans hospital

At present, to earn additional income for her daughter and young son, she worked on the side as a medical assistant and “sexual consultant or therapist” for home patients. During the day and some evenings, she was a waitress at an upscale restaurant where she could earn hundreds of dollars in tips on a good day.

She had responded to Richard Lockhart’s advertisement on line and found the conditions satisfactory. She understood fully that in addition to administering physical therapy, she would also be erotically massaging his body and penile area according to his instructions.

She would first begin her therapy clothed in a very feminine nightgown and then at his signal she would undress and continue in the nude. Richard’s pyjama bottoms would also be taken off and she would carefully fondle his penis and testicles. As an old man, his sexual response would be much less vigorous than it was in his youth.

If there was no immediate erection, she would continue until he experienced a full sexual reaction with or without ejaculation. Richard could also caress her breasts and body as she stroked his genitals and abdomen.

There would be at first no penetration anticipated, only a mutual caressing to evoke pleasure and satisfaction as determined by Richard, the client. If Richard should have an orgasm, Marilyn would stop her therapy and clean up his ejaculate. There would always be towels spread beneath his body so it would be relatively simple to wash him off.

This could well be the story of a frustrated, sex-obsessed old man who was vicariously reliving his youth through a hired “sex therapist,” but Richard was also looking for passion and equilibrium in his life before it was too late.

This was only the start of their relationship that would have several twists and turns down the line.

If you throw a stone in a calm lake, the ripples will continue until they hit a shoreline or some other obstacle.


Not too long ago, there was an elderly man who, each morning in order to maintain a certain flexibility of his legs and hips, did exercises in bed before arising. His wife would assist him, manipulating his limbs in various directions. The joints were stressed to their limit but not excessively. Since he had been experiencing knee and hip problems, this was a type of physical therapy that proved to be successful and something he looked forward to.

In addition, he would exercise them by himself, stretching them in various directions to enhance flexibility. After a short rest period, he would get up, make the bed with his wife, and then think about the details of getting dressed, showering, shaving, and making a selection of clothing for the day.

Normally, prior to his retirement years ago, these would be automatic concerns; he would think about what the day held for him, not about what shirt or pair of pants to wear.

As a retiree, he experienced a complete freedom of choice in his activities but that was coupled with a lack of self-worth. In America, you are what you do in an economic and social context.

However, as the days, months, and even years went by, he felt that the morning exercise routine was effective in strengthening his abdominal muscles.

Indeed, when he looked in the mirror, his growing paunch had diminished and he noticed that his body’s silhouette had slimmed down. His upper torso was more muscular than it had been.

He was routinely working out in the basement with weights and using his recumbent bicycle and treadmill. It was harder to put on and take off his tee-shirts with his newly acquired bulk.

If he could get his body to firm up, he surmised, he would be sexually attractive to women…possibly of all ages.

It was an illusion, of course. There were other signs of old age: creped skin on his arms, jowls, “turkey folds” hanging under his chin, and baggy eyes, just to name a few.

Even at his advanced age, he fantasized about the firm and sensual bodies of young women that were displayed shamelessly on line in a multitude of venues–some on pornographic sites, others scantily dressed to advertise pills and creams that would guarantee sexual fulfillment for impotent or aging customers.

One could reclaim youth in this manner, according to the promotions, and satisfy even the most demanding female of any age.

In magazines and on line there were enticing Ankara bayan escort pictures of grey-haired men in bed with voluptuous and much younger females who were smiling at their lovers. Special pills had transformed their libidos and aging bodies into instruments of sexual dynamism.

This story is an old man’s fantasy, the dream of someone far beyond his prime but desperate to regain the virility of his youth.

To achieve this goal, he had purchased online male enhancement products and was disappointed in their efficacy. A few seemed to be effective for a while but the results were primarily psychological.

He was in a sense battling Nature. Age gradually weakens human stamina in many areas. This loss of vigor was symptomatic of the great arc of life…what physicists call “entropy”…youth, middle-age, and senescence or in other terms: the progressive and energetic development of the organism, maintenance of its basic functions, and the physical decline that progressed by stages.

Some people were blessed by their genetic background and enjoyed good health in their later years; others encountered harsh conditions and were plagued with disease and disabilities.

Richard was in decent health in the final stages of life but mentally resisted any acceptance of his limitations.

This fanciful tale–similar to the Faustian legend very common in world literature–begins when Richard’s wife chose to take a break from her conjugal duties after many years of marriage; she found a compatible place of refuge with an elderly woman, a long-time friend, who, in order to fill up her days, went from one meeting to another. Out of compassion and solidarity she let Richard’s wife, Lynda Jane, stay in her guest bedroom.

Lynda Jane’s friend, Rebecca, had declared herself a vegetarian many years ago and this culinary preference limited her choice of restaurants. Richard’s spouse was an avowed meat lover which complicated food choices. These two women were not suited to be with one another for a long period of time.

After his wife’s departure which was the result of multiple arguments and bitter accusations over a period of years, Richard had to take stock of his situation.

He would have to do the laundry, cook meals or at least provide nourishment in some form for himself, and do the shopping in supermarkets.

As a matter of fact, his wife had left him alone years ago for about two and a half months when she traveled abroad for professional reasons. After a few days of adjustment, he had managed to survive by structuring his life between work and household duties.

He was now free to go and do whatever he wanted; according to his plan, he would order meals to be delivered twice a week, and would order take-out from a very good restaurant for the third day.

The rest of the week he would heat up frozen meals that were tasty and very easy to cook. He knew, with a little ingenuity, he could survive in the face of adversity.

His wife was the product of a strict Catholic upbringing and every person in the family had a specific place and function. Human value, in their world, was measured by productivity and not the passive life style that Richard indulged in, even if there was no reason for Richard to be active. He had been retired for over sixteen years.

Even after multiple adjustments, Richard suffered from loneliness and knew he could find companionship if he attended the “singles” get-togethers at his church or simply went on line and searched for people about his age who were also lonely and seeking someone to help fill up the hours, especially in the evening.

He was dubious about the Internet sites. There were stories about scams and people being abused or deceived by criminals who used these platforms to take advantage of the elderly. They preyed on those who had lost a spouse, who were divorced, and simply didn’t have the opportunity to meet potential mates for many reasons.

The subscribers were willing to befriend people they knew nothing about and were very vulnerable to abuse as a result.

Richard was not in robust health–he had undergone a massive heart attack a few years before. The cardiologists had placed aortic stents in his arteries and given him a new lease on life.

As one foreign-born cardiologist had said by his bedside in the ICU, surrounded by attentive interns, this patient is lucky to be alive: he survived the “widowmaker” of a heart attack.

He could perform routine tasks but he was a little leery about having to be sexually active after many years of not having any sex at all.

His marriage had been empty–what psychologists would characterize as “sexless”; in fact, Richard was discouraged from making advances by a wife who had many excuses for not wanting to engage in sexual intimacy.

She would even physically push him away and belittle him if he attempted to initiate any sex play when they were together in bed.

The Escort bayan Ankara “message” he received–not so subtly–was that enough was enough; it was time to admit they were old and should be focusing on other matters.

Being intimate was the exclusive domain of the young or middle-aged. When hormones had lost their usefulness, it was time to consider other distractions.

In addition, she suffered from vaginal dryness even though she used special creams to offset this condition. She had tried once to take hormone pills but the results had been negative, even unpleasant.

She indulged in these tactics of dissuasion because she had every assurance he would not respond violently or even berate her verbally. He was a quiet and sensitive man who detested confrontation.

He became her convenient whipping boy if anything went wrong. She knew he would never get rid of her. Who else would look after him? cook his meals and run errands during the day? To her he was the shadow of the assertive and active man she had once known.

His reticence to be outspoken and vindictive was a guarantee of her personal security. She was much younger than he so she could benefit from her energy and she showed no sympathy for his likes and dislikes. He would simply “take it” and she reveled in the power she wielded over their collective destiny.

She had even stopped kissing him with passion other than an occasional peck on the check or lips.

Nonetheless, she viewed her wifely duties as limited to maid-like services: cleaning up, doing laundry and ironing, going with him to social functions, and doing grocery shopping.

Erotic pleasure was a duty that had been reserved for her child-bearing years. She had performed adequately and acquitted herself during that period of their conjugal life.

Their only child, a daughter, Jennifer, lived in California far, far away. They saw her and her family upon occasion but not frequently. Their grandchildren rarely came to visit. If there were financial problems, Richard and his wife were the first to be informed.

Lynda Jane communicated by e-mail and texting with her daughter; Richard had limited skills with the computer so he let his wife serve as the familial intermediary.

He would often dream about a pill or substance he could take that would erase all the unhappiness and frustrations he experienced in his everyday existence. He needed a magic wand to give him a few years of relief and equilibrium.

It would be almost miraculous to wake up with energy and a positive outlook on life. He rarely enjoyed performing the duties and obligations he had assumed; his search for sensual pleasure seemed out of reach.

They were viewed as a cohesive couple by people who thought of them as satisfied and well-suited for each other. Marital longevity was proof of compatibility.

He tried to absorb and abate her fury during the evening hours which could at times be volcanic when she had drunk too much. For years now, evenings had become contentious and unpleasant. She would rant and rave, saying ridiculous things that even she didn’t really believe in.

She would loudly accuse him of being indifferent to her needs. She was above all a “slave” to his demands. He should learn how to cook; then he would be useful!

She would plaintively appeal to Richard’s sense of compassion by insisting they seek out a nursing home as a convenient place to spend their final years. There, meals would be prepared by other people and she wouldn’t have to worry about house care.

Life would no longer be a challenge. It would be reduced to eating in a communal dining room with strangers from all walks of life. No children would be allowed–only on visitation days.

Their world would shrink to fit the confines of the assisted living facility. The registration down payment and monthly upkeep/service fees would be very expensive. Richard acknowledged he wasn’t ready for that sort of life, not just yet.

Richard and his wife no longer sat together in a loving way on the couch as they used to do. If they listened to music, the sound had to be turned down to a very low level. Anything loud was bothersome and she would protest.

Nonetheless, the nightly news programs that she watched regularly were turned up to a high pitch. Richard would often have to adjust the sound or leave the room on a false pretense to escape the blaring television.

If he tuned in to his favorite conservative channels on TV, she would find an excuse to be occupied elsewhere. Republicans were inherently bad people and that was that.

In the most bizarre manner possible, Lynda Jane relegated “dead” composers or artists to the dust bin of musical or artistic history. Only living composers, artists, or singers had any esthetic value in her opinion.

Richard had ceased trying to reason with that twisted logic. It truly saddened him. At times, he began to doubt her sanity.

Richard Bayan escort Ankara was isolated in his personal life. There were no close friends he could turn to, only acquaintances. His heart problems had not gone away although, according to his cardiologist, he could lead a normal life if he didn’t challenge himself physically. As the Greeks once said, do everything in moderation to enjoy a long and satisfying life.

His body was telling him precisely what he could and could not do as far as exercise was concerned. Nonetheless, he refused to give in to old age.

So many in his family had aged “gracefully” by refusing to exercise or do challenging mental puzzles or exercises. They had followed the entropic arc into senescence with acceptance and resignation. They looked their age and assumed that was the way things were.

As his father once said, Richard remembered, “when I was young, I was a skinny fella. When I got older, I was heavy-set and I couldn’t do anything about that either.”

Richard was searching for a supplement or pill that might give him back his youthful energy or at least a feeling of being able to enjoy normal, everyday activities. His medical exams had indicated he was a healthy individual, but he was most likely affected by a mild psychological neurosis. At least, that was his opinion.

He needed someone who understood his eccentricities and would provide him with a feeling of belonging and acceptance.

Nagging was not an effective strategy; it was a means of bullying, of trying to wear down the resistance of a partner; it was similar to laying siege to an enemy that had to be attacked from within.

It had worked in the past, his wife reasoned, why not try it again and again until finally the obstacle–her husband–would surrender and she could have her way.

Richard was not fooled by these tactics anymore; he had seen them too often. He had learned to stand his ground and demand they talk in a rational and cool-headed way about a number of issues.

In those instances, his wife would simply fall silent and retreat into herself, plotting her next attack. After all, “wimps” like her husband couldn’t take excessive pressure. If he’s miserable, that’s his problem, not hers.

All deviations from what she considered to be the “norm” were archived. They would be used at the appropriate moment during arguments as bludgeons to make her points against him.

Some mishaps even went back to their courtship days when he had acted up and done stupid, raunchy things after having a few too many drinks. As all husbands learn very quickly, their wives have long memories of misbehavior and irresponsible antics from times past.

One morning as he was doing his leg exercises in bed in the absence of his wife, Richard decided he would go on line and see if he could find someone compatible to fill in the emotional gaps in his very confined life.

However, at his age, an elderly woman would not be cooperative or able to fulfill his wishes. It would have to be a much younger companion…a woman who would be willing to experiment with sensuality and who could tolerate the limitations of an elderly man with obvious restrictions in mobility and sexual expression.

However, when they discovered his age and limitations, very few young women would agree to be his therapist and part-time lover, even for a generous sum of money.

In his mind he felt capable of sexual intercourse, but he knew he couldn’t meet the expectations of the very young and their physical suppleness.

To register on line he needed a photo of himself and a description of the sort of woman he was searching for. He could do a “selfie” but those always distorted his features. If he included a professionally made photo that had been retouched, everyone would be suspicious of the real individual behind the photograph.

He needed to be up front and honest about his needs in the relationship. Richard couldn’t be too graphic or flagrant; virtually no one would respond. He would have to be vague but not dishonest about the physical and sexual expectations.

All women who responded to this sort of request understood that sexual contact would be a part of the agreement.

He gave his description a considerable amount of thought. He couldn’t let anyone else read it to edit the content; that would be embarrassing and fraught with public exposure and ridicule.

He would of course select a pseudonym as everyone did. His photo would be honest, but neutral. There would no geographical sites in the background. He would list his state and county but no other information.

If his wife got in touch or asked for a reconciliation, he would be polite but demanding. She had to accept the new standards of their union; there was a long list of particulars she would need to consider.

In the meantime, if she persisted in being independent and continued to live with her friend, he would be free to court any woman he met on line. He was of course nervous about the reception he would receive.

He understood that at times some of the female subscribers could make judgments that were not flattering. His body was far from perfect. He was very sensitive about the size of his penis which had long been a source of embarrassment.

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Glory and Leif: Club Morpheus

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Glory and Leif: A Club Morpheus Story

Disclaimer: Club Morpheus is a place out of time and space where creatures and humans from all walks of life congregate for sensual, erotic, and sometimes supernatural experiences. No one can come to harm within its walls…unless they want to.

“You promised!” the text popped up on Glory’s phone, the words followed by a smiling emoji. She had indeed promised to join Siobhan at Club Morpheus for Goth Night. However, work had been a bear this week, and now that she was home and sprawled out on her bed, she wasn’t feeling quite as motivated.

“Work sucked! Too tired,” she replied, using speech-to-text to write for her lazy thumbs.

“Great! You can take it out on some poor sap at CM. Pick you up at 8!” Siobhan sent, followed by several hearts and then two psycho-looking knife emojis. Glory snort-chuckled and rolled her eyes, but the laugh elevated her mood enough to drag her butt off the bed and start getting ready.


Siobhan and Glory walked into Club Morpheus with their arms linked at the elbow. Siobhan’s eyes immediately went to the bar and Master H’s usual seat. She tried to ignore the disappointment in her chest upon seeing it empty.

“Looking for me, kitten?” The soft growl next to her ear sent a shiver down her spine as she turned.

“Not at all,” she said flippantly.

Glory choked on a laugh since she had been listening to stories about Master H’s “magical cock” for weeks. She tuned out their banter and scanned the room. She had to admit she loved Goth Night and the rainbow array from pastel to cyber clothing, not to mention all the yummy vampire styles. The usual BDSM “rooms” had been cleared so that darkly lit seating areas could be arranged around the perimeter. A large dance area took center stage for the dark wave music pumping through the sound system. Somewhere, a dry ice machine was spilling fake fog across the floor, and the interior had been transformed to look like a New Orleans cemetery. It could have looked tacky but a minimalist approach kept it from being “too much.” A tug at her solar plexus caused her eyes to skip back to a dark corner sheltered under fake hanging vines. A head of thick wavy hair so silvery-white it almost glowed crowded into her view. How had she missed that the first time? The hair swept back over a strong, lined brow and eyes the color of pale seafoam framed in black kohl liner. The tousled strands curled just below his ears. Her gaze snagged on the intense eyes, a flicker of longing and pain, a blaze of lust and mayhem.

Leif felt the tenuous thread of connection between them as he held her gaze across the large space. Beautiful. She was exquisite dichotomy with black hair piled in two messy pigtails like a cheerleader with bedhead, but full lips painted matte black promised an entirely adult seduction. A severe black Victorian-style top covered her from chin to wrists, stretching across full breasts, but her legs were bare from upper thigh to lower-calf between a short black skirt and combat boots. She looked soft, curvaceous, and he wanted to grip her flared hips while taking her. He idly wondered if she fucked like a recovering prude or a wanton slut, and he found both scenarios equally stimulating.

Glory was unable to look away and a blush crept up the side of her neck as his pupils enlarged, his hunger on full display. His nostrils flared as if he could smell her across the room, a sultry smile sliding across his lips. She felt out of her body, vaguely aware of the thrumming bass from a song but no longer hearing or seeing the crowd. He moved toward her, shadows of others parting before his effortless glide. As if in a dream, he stopped in front of her. A slim muscled physique strained with tension as one of his hands lifted near her cheek but then curled in a frustrated fist. His mouth lowered next to her ear, and electricity skittered down the side of her neck. Goosebumps rose along her shoulders and arms.

“I want to fucking tear you apart.”

Siobhan waved her hand in front of her friend’s face before following her gaze across the room to see what had her attention so spellbound. Siobhan’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she spotted the man in the corner. “Earth to Glory!” Siobhan stepped in front of her friend, completely blocking Glory’s view of Leif. Glory gasped aloud and sucked in a gulp of air.

What the hell just happened? Hadn’t he been right in front of her? Dear gods, have I been standing here, staring at him, and daydreaming the whole time? Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she was glad for the dark lighting.

Henry, too, was observing from over the tops of the women’s heads. He stepped forward and took Glory’s elbow gently, steering her toward the bar. “Let’s get you a drink, shall we?” He looked at Siobhan over Glory’s head and nodded toward the corner where Leif sat. You owe me, Siobhan mouthed, and Henry grinned a lascivious promise before ushering Ankara escort Glory off.

Leif watched the red-headed woman approach warily. There was something that felt profane about her presence as she entered his space. “I don’t know who you are but I know what you are. Absolutely not. Not in here. And not with her,” she threatened. One sculpted eyebrow rose as Leif flashed a bit of fang in a sneer of disinterest. “And don’t you point those things at me unless you want an unscheduled visit with a dentist,” she added for good measure.

Leif couldn’t help it and barked out a laugh. It was so rare that anyone dared to challenge him, especially when they could see his true nature. “Saucy wench,” he said now with good humor as he held up his hands in surrender. “You know what I am but what are you?” he mused, relaxing back. There was no point in being defiant as he had no desire to be kicked out now that he had seen her. “I do solemnly swear not to enthrall your delicious-looking friend, but if she finds her own way over here, well, that’s her choice then, isn’t it?” he queried with a cunning look.

Siobhan wanted to argue but there’s not a lot of footing to stand on when arguing against free will. Words had power in Club Morpheus and he had sworn to behave, even if he was being an ass about it. She would have to trust he would abide by the rules of the Club, and if he didn’t, well, the Club would nip that in the bud.

“Fine,” she capitulated, “but if you hurt her, I will hunt you down and make you wish you had never been born.” She turned on her heel and threaded her way through the throng to the bar. She didn’t hear his bitter reply, “I already do.”


“Okay, I’m going to do it.” Glory tossed back her third shot in two hours. “If he isn’t interested, then I’ll just never show my face in here again. No problem!” She laughed a little too loudly and covered her mouth with embarrassment. “Maybe, like, right after a trip to the bathroom though.”

Siobhan slid off the barstool to accompany her, but Glory waved her back. The corridor leading to the women’s loo was well lit behind the access door, and a stoic bouncer stood guard at the threshold. Glory had been debating the pros and cons of approaching the mysterious stranger since Siobhan had sat down next to her. Glory came to the Club for entertainment and conversation, more voyeur than anything else. Siobhan had frustratingly refrained from either encouraging or discouraging Glory, merely listening to her endless stream of consciousness. Glory pushed open the door to the restroom, splashed some water on face to cool off, and then spent a moment doing some deep breathing to both psych herself up and calm herself down. She didn’t understand how it worked both ways; it just did. She gave herself a stern look in the mirror, practiced some sexy expressions, decided she looked ridiculous, and gave up as a group of women entered. She flashed them a quick, shy smile and slipped out behind them.

“There you are.” Leif watched her jump nearly out of her skin when he detached himself from the wall.

“How the hell do you hide in plain sight like that? What are you doing in here?” she blurted out before turning red. “I didn’t mean…ugh, jeez,” she sputtered. “Oh hell, I did mean that, but I didn’t mean to say that,” she grumbled, clearly disgusted with herself.

Leif chuckled and moved until he was mere inches from her, the air between them crackling with energy. This was much different than earlier with no dreamlike quality under the harsh fluorescents. The bright lighting sharpened his hawklike features and leeched the color from his skin. Cheekbones in high relief and chiseled lips matched his taut physique. He wasn’t much taller than her; her platforms brought her nose up to his chin. A whiff of sulfur assaulted her nose, vanished, and was replaced by something earthy and dark. Her body swayed toward him like a hound chasing a scent. Leif’s body tightened as she drew near enough touch.

“May I touch you?” he asked gently, speaking to her as he would a skittish animal. Every cell in him wanted to grab her and push her up against the wall.

“What?” Glory belatedly remembered where she was. Egad, had she been sniffing him? Get a grip, she chastised herself. Consent at every step. She was so used to men just doing whatever they wanted when they wanted. “Yes, but PG only!” She shook a finger at him scoldingly. She was amusing him but she wasn’t really sure if he was laughing at her or with her just yet. Humor was her go-to for diffusing awkward situations.

He rewarded her with a smile which crinkled the corners of his eyes. She tried to gauge his age. There was a sense of self-control and patience which spoke of maturity, but his smile was boyish and flirtatious. A single fingertip traced a line down her cheek to the corner of her full lips. Leif wondered what shade of pink they were under that dark stain. Ankara escort bayan His disobedient thumb shot across the lower lip to smear the lipstick off the skin and onto her cheek. He fixated on the color beneath. Would her areolas be the same shade?

“I can show you,” he finally said, answering her initial question.

“Show me?” Glory once again felt like she was starting to float away from her body. My lipstick is smeared and I haven’t even been kissed, she thought.

Leif grinned wolfishly as if he had heard her thoughts. “I could show you that, too.”

She realized she had completely lost control of this conversation. She wasn’t even sure what they were talking about anymore. “I want you to show me,” her traitorous lips spoke. She wasn’t sure if she meant hiding in plain sight or a kiss or both.

Leif studied her face and then with great effort stepped back. The air that rushed to fill the void between them felt ice cold after the heat of their energy. “My name is Leif,” he said with a flourish, bowing at the waist and picking up her left hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. She had said PG-only, after all. He was in full “gentleman goth” mode, but that was the whole point of coming to the club — indulging in fantasy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…,” he prompted, leaving her to fill in the blank.

“Glory,” she whispered.

The magic coalescing between them broke as the gaggle of women exited the restroom behind her. They exchanged glances with each other and the women giggled. One waggled her eyebrows suggestively and gave Glory a thumb’s up behind Leif’s back after they passed.

“Glory,” he repeated, savoring the name sliding across his tongue like ambrosia. Of course, she would have a heavenly name, he thought sardonically. The Universe’s little sense of humor at work. “Would you like to join me?” he asked, offering his arm.

While many people wore elaborate goth makeup and costumes, she liked that he was dressed simply in black jeans and a Joy Division T-shirt that looked genuinely vintage. She idly wondered what kind of hair dye he used to get such a pure silver color as she took his arm. His brows and thick lashes were dark as obsidian. Leif met Siobhan’s gaze as they walked out of the corridor together. The bouncer seemed oblivious to their existence. Glory gave her friend a nervous but excited smile, and Siobhan forced herself to smile back before spinning around with exasperation.

Leif led her to the velvet settee where he had first been reclining. Nobody else was congregating in this area, a private oasis in a sea of madness, and easy to miss tucked into the corner and camouflaged by vine. He settled her against the plush fabric before sitting next to her. He picked up her hand and laced his manicured fingers through hers. She looked down at their entwined fingers, hers with tiny lines from aging, but his oddly smooth and youthful in comparison. She turned to him but was unable to make out the details of his face any longer in the dark corner. Only those blazing pale eyes reached out to her in the dark. Perhaps he wasn’t as old as she had initially thought.

“How old are you?” another question, unbidden, tumbled past Glory’s lips. Immediately, she realized the social faux pas and cringed. Right, this was just one of many reasons why she didn’t date. “I just meant, I’m kind of old, you know? For this crowd. I was goth back in the ’80s, well, maybe more punk. Punk-goth?” She shook her head; aware she was babbling yet again in an attempt to smooth over her awkward inquiry. The Club was mostly filled with the younger crowd, and she tried to avoid being labeled as a “cougar.” It was a ridiculous hill of sand that she kept trying to stand on.

Instead of being offended, he merely laughed, a deeply amused chuckle that rumbled up from his belly. “Old enough to know better, but still too young to care,” he quipped. Her appearance was youthful and so was her energy despite her apparent age marker of “1980’s goth.” Fine lines crinkled around her eyes and mouth, indicating she engaged more in smiling than a “resting bitch face.” It would be easy to mistake her for someone 10 years younger if one didn’t look too closely.

A thick lock of hair fell in front of his eyes, and he pushed it behind one of his ears while folding one leg to rest his ankle on the opposite knee. He leaned back into the cushions and placed her hand on his knee, curling her fingers around the rough denim sheathing his leg. He gave it a pat as if to say, “There now, that’s settled.” His arms rose to bracket the sofa’s frame, the tips of his long fingers just barely brushing the nape of her bare neck. Her skin was warm and soft, alive, vibrant. She stood out to him like a beacon from the moment she entered the club hours ago. “I have a confession to make,” he said, leaning close conspiratorially. His breath brushed her ear and her stomach clenched.

“What’s that?” she asked quietly, confident Escort Ankara he would hear her despite the loud music and general revelry.

“I’m only in town for one night.” His first of probably many lies he would tell to keep this delicate creature at arm’s length. Her innocence nearly blinded him and caused his balls to tighten forcefully. He would destroy her if she gave him half a chance, and that would not do with her protective friend hovering on the other side of the Club. A shame really, he did so enjoy the chase.

Whatever she had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. Disappointment crushed her chest. What was the big deal though? She had literally just met him, so who cared if she never saw him again. Just because he was hot didn’t mean he was a decent person. Maybe he was a total ass. Still, one night, it could be perfect. Siobhan’s words echoed back, “You can take it out on some poor sap at the club.” Glory wasn’t the type to take it out on anyone, but maybe someone taking it out on her was just what she needed to get over the past week. Siobhan kept telling her she needed to step out of her comfort zone.

“In that case, we should make the most of meeting each other,” she forged ahead boldly despite the wobble in her voice. After all, she would never see him after this. She could be whoever she wanted tonight, even herself, maybe most especially herself.

A fire lit his pale eyes, infinitely black pupils eclipsing the irises. “I would very much like to kiss you, Glory, may I?” His voice was like gravel, abrading her skin and sloughing off the masks she wore in public. Her face tilted up toward his, and the tip of her tiny pink tongue flickered across her lower lip. She looked dreamy with her eyes half-closed, every line of her body angled toward him like a balloon on a string, ready to float away if he let go. His knuckles grazed her jaw and she sucked in a breath as heat slid from point of contact down her jugular. She watched his head lower until his lips were so close even a feather could not have slipped between them, but still, he did not kiss her. “I need to hear your answer, Glory mín.”

While she didn’t understand the strange word, she understood the possessive tone which couched it. The heat in her veins spread across the top of her head and down her limbs, and she ached for cooling relief. His words felt like a promise of that relief. “I want you to kiss me, Leif,” she finally managed, cheeks flaming again. Why was admitting what she wanted so hard for her? He wanted her, she wanted him; it should be simple.

He tasted his name on her breath as he swooped in to claim her mouth with his. Mine! The force of his visceral reaction to her slammed into his chest like a hammer even though his lips continued to gently nuzzle hers apart. He pushed the feeling aside before a haze of possession could overtake him, concentrating on the shy way her tongue sought his. A recovering prude, then, he thought to himself. He coaxed her forward, teasing her tongue with luxurious swipes before retreating. He tasted like black licorice. Jager?, she wondered. She was forced to chase him if she wanted more, and she was preparing to glut herself on this man tonight.

The Club ceased to exist for them as the moment overtook their senses. Her breasts pressed up against his ribs with a craving to feel more of him than the simple connection of their mouths. He gripped the back of her head with steel fingers, self-control fraying as he mashed his mouth against hers. She tasted blood as their lips and teeth collided, but she didn’t know it if was his or hers. Her mouth was a writhing mass of nerves connected straight to her core. Was it possible to orgasm from a kiss? She would love to find out. Leif snarled and snapped his head back, tongue running over the tips of gleaming pointed canines and the bead of blood clinging to them — her blood. The taste was like the first spring buds blooming across his tongue.

In the dark lighting, his eyes appeared almost entirely black, no trace of white cornea. He wanted to devour her, consume her body and mind and soul, feel her running through his veins like caffeine, forever a part of him. Fear spiked in her heart as he picked her up and dropped her to straddle his lap. The adrenaline flushed her skin rosy. The response was instinctual, like the first moment parachuting out of a plane, and then the high hit her. Instead of bolting, she pressed down and dragged her cotton-clothed folds against him. More adrenaline hit her bloodstream in a rush as if she were facing a life-or-death situation. Fight? Flight? Freeze?

“More,” he ground out between clenched teeth. Sweat beaded his brow from the effort of retaining his control. “I want it all, all of you. Would you let me have it, Glory?” Speaking the words whittled that control down to a single strand of fragile silk.

They were both balanced on the precipice of something she didn’t quite understand but felt herself hurtling toward with gleeful manic abandon. Something within her, buried deep where the shadows lived, curled up like a dark tendril. Caution was a concept that no longer held meaning. She framed his face with her hands and stared down into an endless abyss. “Yes, but only if you give me the same,” she countered.

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Stephen Snow’s Moonlit Garden Pt. 01

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The story carries on from the earlier story ‘No Clothes’

As in the previous story, ‘No Clothes’, the two girls, Julie and Miriam, are still eighteen.

“We can’t get away after all. But we could tonight.”

It was initially a disappointing phone call to receive. Stephen Snow had spent the afternoon of the next day following the surprise visit of Julie and Miriam when they had brought Julie’s mum’s plants, in a state of some excitement. Stephen had wandered around his garden feeling so virile from the interest the girls had shown in him the day before. It had certainly been a surprise visit — very surprising! He had gone around the garden, unable really to settle on any job knowing they would turn up later. They had said they would. He had spent a lot of time considering whether he should meet them naked or dressed. In the event not one girl had appeared, so his choice had not mattered. Such a disappointment — but then the phone call.

“Tonight? After dark?”

It was certainly looking likely to be a warm, even hot evening. Warm enough for a mature gentleman to wander in his garden in the dark without clothes and bump into any young women who might be there — perhaps equally naked, certainly a pleasure to physically bump into. And he knew what he would bump into them with!

An evening spent watching television, an impatient evening waiting for the girls. They hoped to be there at eleven-ish. At ten thirty he took a quick shower and, towelling himself dry, left the towel inside as he stepped out naked into the night, his cock already erect at the thought. Tempting to stroke but all best left until the delight of Julie and Miriam appeared. He did not want to waste the opportunity on a mistimed ejaculation by his own hand. Best to let them do the stroking. Always best to let the ladies do the stroking.

Should he wait near the side door for them or let them come into the garden and have to find him in the dark?

A little moonlight, the waxing moon just a thin crescent. It would be enough to see two girls come in at the side door. Stephen sat on a bench in the moon shade of a tree and waited, the bench turned towards the door but some way off upon the lawn. Hidden by the tree from the weak moonlight he would be invisible. They would not.

A little before eleven he saw the door open, and two figures appear — both of the girls. Difficult to see what they were wearing, indeed a little difficult to see if it was indeed Julie and Miriam but so unlikely it was anyone else. The figures paused and Stephen could see they were undressing. It was even more unlikely anyone else would come down his side passage, try the door through the wall, come into his garden and then undress unless it was the girls. Rather improbable that it would be a couple of lads; it would be a bit of a shock to him — and them — if he embraced them and found hard cocks pressed into his body and his against theirs! Equally unlikely it was a different pair of girls.

Stephen watched the removal of tops and perhaps jeans, there seemed a little more bother than if the girls were wearing skirts. Was that brassieres and knickers coming off? Definitely not boys! Between his legs his penis thickened and rose, his knob looking upwards, keen to be pushing between girl thighs, entering hot wetness. The girls moved. Presumably all clothing left behind, they were venturing forth into Stephen Snow’s moonlit garden. Did it excite them being naked, did the leaving behind of clothes give a thrill, were they still shod perhaps in sandals or were their bodies entirely unadorned except perhaps for a necklace or bracelet? Stephen rather liked the idea of an ankle bracelet — a little gold chain perhaps. Did that lead to thoughts of harem girls? Maybe!

It was clear the girls were looking for him, perhaps surprised he was not there to greet them; maybe wondering if he had simply gone to bed — were they expected to enter the house and go up to his bedroom and join him in bed?

A giggle, was that what they were thinking? There were whispers. Were the whispers about the idea of three in a bed sex?

Soft calls, saying his name.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice clear in the dark as he stood up from the bench, and they came towards him. He could see them, naked, white and ghost-like. Ethereal girls, coming towards him and then, coming into the moon shade of the tree were suddenly gone — winked out of sight. But they found him.

“Oh Mr. Snow, you’re naked — again.” Two pairs of hands roaming over his naked body in the dark and then clasping his erection. Two hands — one from each girl around his manhood. It was big enough to be two handed.

“I do so like what you men have — men and boys.” Julie’s voice. “So hard, so big. Just as the other day. Imagine if Nick and Callum were here too, Miriam, three hard-ons to grab and pull, knocking against us in the dark.”

“Mmmm! Lotsa cock.”

It was not quite what Stephen expected coming from Miriam’s mouth. But he certainly intended his Ankara bayan escort cock to go into that mouth, so if his cock was to go in why shouldn’t the word ‘cock’ come out!

Would he feel awkward and out of place if Nick and Callum had indeed been there in the dark with them. His, an unnecessary and superfluous third cock – a bit like a ‘spare prick at a wedding.’ Though didn’t a bride have other ‘holes’ that could be filled? It was, though, not traditional to have other cocks in the marital bed. Not done for the best man to push his cock into the bride’s bottom as the groom pushed into her vagina even as her mouth salivated on yet another cock. Whose would that be? Unnecessary and superfluous maybe, except Stephen’s was a ‘safe’ cock. It could go into the girls unclad in latex. His sperm free semen could spurt freely into young vaginas. He did not need to wear a condom. They would – Nick and Callum — one each.

“Hard cocks to hold on and lead us. Where would they lead us, Mr. Snow, where would we be fucked?”

“In here I expect.” His aim unerring. One finger up into each vagina. They were moist — quite moist. The girls had clearly been thinking about sex — were ready for sex.


“I meant, Mr Snow, what mossy bed. Where are you going to fuck us, Mr. Snow, where are you going to take us — to bed?”

It was a warm enough night. No need to take them inside to his bedroom. Perhaps another night when it was raining or snowing he would do that. Another night? Would the two delightful girls want to visit again? And on into the winter?

There was no hurry. Maybe some men would hurry to conclusion. Would want to get down to the fucking. Would not be able to hold off the opportunity of fucking two girls who were more than willing. But Stephen was not impatient. He had ideas. And they included having his cock sucked — by both of them. Seemingly they had not progressed that far with Nick or Callum. He felt he should teach them. The idea of an older man teaching young women the art of fellatio rather appealed. It was a task a retired gentleman could find time for!

“I rather thought we would move a little around the garden. It is a warm night. Unless you particularly wanted to go inside and get in bed.”

“Whatever you like, Mr Snow.” Julie’s voice, but quite clear that was exactly how it was for both.

Whatever he liked! And what he chose to do was suck nipples. First one of Julie’s. As in that wonderful and surprising afternoon only two days’ before, he was careful not to show favouritism and choose the larger pair of breasts first. Not that Julie’s were not a delight. He could not see, but knew her nipples were anything but little black or redcurrants in size, rather real cherries. Dark red with delightful pale pink areolae. His tongue found the little bumps encircling Julie’s nipple before he sucked. So good to draw it into his mouth and give it a good suck, drawing not just nipple and areola into his mouth but some of her little breast as well.

“That’s nice, I like that.” Julie’s voice above his head.

“What’s Mr Snow doing?” It really was too dark for Miriam to see. But she soon found out. Her smaller nipples soon in Stephen Snow’s mouth. Small nipples, more his own size, but set, he knew, within rather large and dark areolae, an inch across.

Four nipples to slip into his mouth, four breasts to stroke. Perhaps an excessive number for any man to enjoy at once, though many men would like the opportunity. Good to hear the pleasurable reaction from the girls. And then they chose to suck his own nipples, vestigial and rather pointless but nonetheless pleasing to feel two mouths upon them, wet tongues wriggling, lips squeezing between them his little lemon pips of nipples.

“Not much there to suck, Mr Snow.”

“No Julie, not like yours,” he bent again and bit — not hard but enough to enable him to tug — that elicited an ‘ooh’ from the girl. Raising himself up, he added, thinking it just the opportune moment to bring up the topic, “Of course men — and boys — have something rather more substantial to suck. Have you, with Nick and Callum?”

A hand, again, on his cock. Was that preparatory to bobbing down and sucking?

“Mr Snow!”

“It’s what men and women do — a lot.”

“Nick and Callum asked but…”

“We said no.”

“Why? They’d like it and I’m sure you girls would. It’s like a big nipple — well, sort of!”

“It’s not milk that comes out, Mr Snow.” Miriam’s voice.

“Nick comes very quickly — not like you, Mr. Snow,” added Julie’s voice.

And presumably not like Callum either. Easy to imagine if Nick was a bit on the trigger, having a wet and hot mouth descend and envelop his knob might be more than enough to set him into spasm.

“You could suck Callum whilst Nick watches.” Disappointing for him but seeing the girls’ mouths swopping on his friend’s cock would be quite something to see. Two lovely mouths — two lovely girls. Nick would not forget Escort bayan Ankara that — ever!

“We don’t like the idea, them coming in our mouths.”

“Why not?”

“Have you, Mr. Snow?”

“I’ve not sucked another man’s cock and had him cum in my mouth, but I’ve certainly tasted my own a few times. Mostly when I was younger and shot rather far when wanking. I remember shooting one time right up in my mouth. An accident. Difficult to repeat but it was rather exciting swallowing whilst I was still cumming.”

“You’ll have to show us, Mr. Snow!”

Stephen shook his head. Not that the girls could see that in the dark. “I don’t project that far these days.” He thought of adding, but did not, something about him being very happy to accept his cum back from their mouths after they had fellated him. ‘Snowballing’ or a ‘cummy kiss.’ He would like to see the two of them swopping his cum whilst they kissed and then passing it to him. Dribbling it into his mouth or a full-on French kiss with tongues awash with cum. That was, perhaps, too advanced eroticism for the girls.

“I think you need practice, girls. I promise not to come in your mouths, but I do think you need to practise sucking cock. Why don’t you try a little kiss to start?”

Was he pushing his luck? There was a bit of a silence. “Of course,” he added, “the boys would need to suck you too — get their mouths between your lovely legs.”

A deep intake of breath from both girls.

“As I shall be doing in a little while,” he added. He was sure he had them. He bent his head again and suckled the two girls’ young breasts. Nipple after nipple. Was his penis hard!

“Would you like me to do that?”

“Would you?”

He had them sit on the bench and open their legs. He could not see them but could feel them, could feel his way between a pair of knees and stand with his cock pointing towards one of the girl’s faces. “Perhaps a little kiss before I start.”

The girl moved her head forward and bumped into Stephen’s cock. “Oh,” she said, “kiss that!” And she did. A bit fleeting but nonetheless a kiss right on the end of his knob. It had been a long time since that had happened.

Down Stephen went, onto his knees. Such a pleasure licking the inside of a girl’s thighs, not touching her sexual parts — as yet — but the implication of where his tongue was going very clear. A nice sigh above him. Julie, he thought. He did not hurry and had not even reached the hot, wet softness of Julie’s labia before Miriam impatiently asked what Stephen was doing.

“Must be my turn.”

“Patience, Miriam, your turn will come. Just play a little while you wait.” There was only one of Stephen. Perhaps the girls would have been better with Nick and Callum kneeling in the dark, one boy between each set of splayed thighs. But it would have been inexperienced lips. Stephen had had plenty of practice, if a long time ago.

“Oooh!” A nice sound from Julie. Perhaps done to tease Miriam. Stephen had reached labia. Was stroking soft, wet, intimate girl flesh with his tongue. A gentle application avoiding as yet vagina and clitoris. But not for long…

“Miriam, Miriam, his tongue is in my… Mr Snow!”

His fingers had been in there, penis had been in there but now Stephen had his tongue up inside the girl and moving it. Delightful moans from Julie.

“My turn, my turn!”

“In a minute.” Stephen was going to stroke Julie’s clitoris before he changed girl. His tongue moved, searching, sliding upwards over urethral opening, heading upwards and there it was. A hard little organ. Gently he sucked, bringing it into his mouth. Sucking Julie’s clitoris rather as he wanted her to do to his penis.


“Please — me.” Came from next to Julie.

Stephen thought it about time to change from light haired to dark haired girl — not that he could see anything much in the dark. To his feet and then between a different pair of thighs. His penis no less strong.

“Have you been playing as I told you to?” He reached and raised Miriam’s right hand to his lips. Nicely wet! “Are you going to kiss me first?”

It was more than a kiss. Miriam leant forward and engulfed his knob. Rather hot, wet lips right over the rounded and sensitive membrane. The whole of his ‘plum’ in her mouth. Stephen’s head went back in the dark and he was shaking it from side to side. It was what he had hoped for. What a delight, his penis head in a young girl’s mouth. He even had trouble getting it released. He could hardly go down on Miriam without his cock still in her mouth. There was a bit of a ‘popping’ sound. She had been sucking rather strongly.

“Miriam! You haven’t?” Julie’s voice in the darkness.

“Might have!”

And all at once he felt a hand to his cock and then a second pair of lips were upon it, sliding over the head and down. A quick couple of bobs of Julie’s head.

“So have I!”

Competitive fellation! Stephen hoped for more of that as he got to his Bayan escort Ankara knees and began his journey up a second pair of thighs towards a mossy and warm place. He liked how the thighs quivered. He did not hurry, his lips and tongue moving over so soft girl inner thighs leaving a snail’s trail of saliva this way and that. But slowly his face got closer and closer to where Miriam’s thighs joined. Stephen Snow nuzzled. Wonderful girl softness, wetness and heat. Again, that rather exciting thing of pushing his tongue into that place for penises, Miriam’s vagina, and as with Julie he sucked a little on her button. A little more prominent than Julie’s. Easier to hold, so gently, between lips and move them a little from side to side and hear the squeals and feel the clamping of thighs around his ears.

Stephen arose and settled back on the bench next to the girls. “Did that work for you girls? Might Nick and Callum…?”

“Dunno. Might. Would be good if they would.”

“Easy really, Miriam, say you’ll suck them but only after they’ve sucked you. You could even say they have to make you come before you’ll suck their cocks but… you might then have to let them come in your mouths.”

He had them really aroused but even so he could sense they were not so keen. “Perhaps a spot of practice first. If only you had a spare penis at your disposal. If only you knew someone who was happy to let you practise upon his cock whenever you liked. If only…”

The girls giggled; they knew exactly what he meant. “Mr Snow, we could just pop in for a quick practice on the way home,” suggested Julie.

“So you could! If I know you’re coming then… I can be ready to cum. A cup of tea too, if you like! Hot and wet.”

The girls would be off to college soon, he doubted when they came back, they would still come to see him, at least in the same way. Nick and Callum might be out of luck too. Boyfriends found at college — new friends and a new outlook. All change. Stephen hoped to make the most of the few weeks before they headed off. So good to be having the opportunity — not just sex with a woman, once again, but with girls so fresh and rather delightfully innocent. Well, fairly innocent. It was not as if he had introduced them to the idea of oral sex. The way Miriam and Julie had licked those ice-creams two days before had been anything but innocent! They had known.

“Would you like a bit more practice?”

“But don’t cum. Not this time.”

He had no intention of that, not in their mouths that night. He had inseminated Miriam two days before and, in a very male way, he wanted to do the same to Julie. The thought got to him. The idea of leaving his stuff in her vagina such a thought — not that it was fertile. Inseminate in the sense of his seminal fluid going into her body but, whilst it would have the various constituents of that fluid, it would not have the little swimming chaps seeking released ova. Useful that he had been disconnected, in the circumstances.

“Who’s going to be first? And I would rather like a really long and deep suck this time. Could you do that, Julie? Down you go.”

Beside him the girl stood up, one hand on his knee to orientate herself as she knelt. Wonderful anticipation. Sitting there with his knees spread and his penis sticking up awaiting the touch. A naked girl hidden in the blackness of the night readying herself to fellate. A touch of lips, a touch of tongue. Sensible girl, she was licking first, exploring with her tongue before taking it into her mouth. A long lick downwards right to his balls. A tingling, delightful feeling. His penis twitched. Up again and then lips upon his knob, lips that widened as Julie came downwards letting it slide into her mouth — and she kept on sliding. She knew what he meant by ‘deep.’

Up she came and Julie started to bob her head. Not too fast. Soft, sliding lips touching the whole circumference of his penis, slipping up and down. A swop, and it was Miriam doing much the same. Another swop and another. Girls practising fellatio — and how much better on the real thing.

“Use your tongue, Julie.”

“What on?”

Stephen had thought himself in Julie’s mouth, but it was she who had spoken revealing it was Miriam’s lips around him, Miriam with her mouth full of cock not Julie, and it was Miriam’s tongue he now felt moving and stroking. What a mistake to make — not knowing who was sucking his cock! Up his urethra he felt a creeping, it was not a full ejaculation but it was certainly a release of semen. Just a little coming up the narrow tube and out into Miriam’s mouth. Would she notice? Perhaps she did, but there was no let-up in her ministration.

“I’d love to come in your mouth, Miriam, you have no idea how much, but I think we should go and do something else. Something beginning with… ‘F’ perhaps?

“Oh, yes please, Mr Snow!”

Stephen took them by the hand and led them out into the moonlight. All at once their bodies revealed — and his erection, ivory white and slight ghostly in the moonlight, pointing the way. Earlier he had set an old tartan blanket out in the middle of the lawn. Just right for a spot of outdoor copulation by moonlight. He had taken both from behind before; both had ridden him on a bench, but he rather thought he should enhance their education by other positions.

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Good Girl

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The butterflies in Kaydie’s chest were a representation of the mixture of fear and excitement she felt as his slender fingers penetrated her warm, wet folds. She sucked in a shaky breath as he started thrusting his fingers slowly in and out. Her eyes opened wide as did her legs as he introduced a third finger, stretching her tight pussy, preparing her to take the girth of his dick.

Kaydie’s reaction stirred a longing in Zack’s loins. He wanted to devour her, but had to force himself to take it easy with her….for now. Her pussy was hot, wet and throbbing around his fingers as he slid them smoothly in and out of her. The rise and fall of her chest, the sweat forming on her neck and running down between her breasts, her hastened breath, the way she arched on his hands, make him plunge deeper and deeper into her, making her wetter and wetter.

She grabs his hand and their eyes meet. She has no words, but there was a raging fire in his eyes, passion burning for her that had built up over the years of their friendship. If he did not have her today, he would surely explode. He kept staring intently into her eyes, it felt as though he were piercing into her soul. His hand started moving faster, making Kaydie wetter, her pussy making sloppy sounds as his fingers made magic in her, bringing her to the brink of a cruel orgasm. Her body trembled, her body writhed, she felt every nerve ending alive all at once. She felt so sweet it made her head spin.

“That’s it Kaydie! Cum for me!” Zack instructed as he piloted her body to ecstasy. She wasn’t prepared for the intensity of the orgasm that washed over her. She screamed out and with a devilish smirk, he withdrew his fingers quickly and pat her pussy as she squirted, legs trembling.

“I thought you’re not a squirter?”, he questioned quietly as he sampled the taste of her on his fingers. She wasn’t even close to recovering from her orgasm, and that’s just how he wanted her, because he was about to fuck her into oblivion. He’s craved her for seven whole years, since the day they met, and he was intent on making up for all the time gone by when they could have fucked but they didn’t.

With his dry hand, he stealthily undid his jeans and dropped them to the floor, stepping out of them, his dick throbbing to be set free and dipped in her fat, wet pussy. He was so hard for her, it was Ankara escort almost painful. But he was also so wet that he was sliming through his drawers.

Kaydie had always believed his cock was huge from seeing it print out in his gym pants ever so often, and she felt it whenever she rubbed up on him by “mistake” a couple times. What bounced out in front of her was not only long as expected, but it was thick. It looked absolutely delicious and she couldn’t wait for the chance to devour it, but her body was still reeling from the orgasm. As if he heard her thoughts, he offered his hand to her and she accepted. He gently pull her up and she found herself off the bed and on her knees in front of him. He was soo wet, and all for her, and it made her desire to please him that much deeper.

She took his shaft in her hand and licked the tip. He was so wet it was literally dripping. The taste of him was euphoric, and instantaneously she took him as far in her mouth as she could. She worked at it slowly, taking a little more at a time. She was determined to swallow his whole dick, once it meant pleasing him. She looked up at him, he was staring down at her. The lust in his eyes burning into her. She continued sucking him off, slobbering all over his cock, stroking him as she sucked. He started moaning her name, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her by her ponytail and shoved his dick as far as it could go down her throat. She gagged and her eyes watered. She took a breath and went at it again, this time more greedily. He continued holding her ponytail firmly and thrusted his hips toward her repeatedly, rough, longing to fill her throat with hot cum. Her body started trembling again, he could sense her orgasm building.

Zack held on to both sides of her head and fucked her face mercilessly, tears mixed with drool as she gagged. It started to get overwhelming and she tried pushing him away, but he kept fucking her face, reveling in her resistance. It was in his dominant nature. “I’m gonna cum, and you’re gonna swallow every drop like a good girl ok?” Zack instructed through his teeth as he tried to hold off his climax. Kaydie couldn’t even nod, but the look in her eyes told him she understood. “AAaah, aaah, aaahhh!!” he exclaimed. He held her head firm as he released his load straight down his throat, Ankara escort bayan his body convulsing as she gagged, eyes watering, nose running, drooling.

Kaydie’s body trembled as another orgasm washed over her. She swallowed everything he gave and smiled, sticking out her tongue to show him, like a proud student.

“Oh fuck!” he breathed. That one gesture sent him over the edge. He just had to fuck her now, his sanity depended on it. “Get on the bed, on your knees, now!” he growled, in a low dangerous tone.

“Yes sir,” she obliged quietly. She climbed onto the bed, knees apart, and went straight down until her head was on the bed, level with her knees. The way this position accentuated her curvy figure was unbelievable. Her ass was so full and round and just needed to be slapped. He couldn’t resist, he slapped her ass hard. She whimpered and grabbed onto the sheet.

His dick bobbed up and down, begging to be deep inside her. He ran a finger along her spine causing her to shudder at the sensation. “Are you ready?” he asked softly, positioning himself to penetrate. He lined up his cock with her pussy, forcing himself to take it easy on her, at least for now, he needed to ease her into it before he ravishes her. He pushed his dick but couldn’t get in. She was so tight and hot. He pulled back, and rubbed his dick against his pussy lips, adding more moisture to his dick. Then he tried again, thrusting ever so lightly, gradually getting deeper and deeper inside. The grip of her pussy was incredible, he needed to fuck her senseless, soon, before he lost it.

With the head of his dick fully inside her, he held on to her hips and thrust hard and fast. She screamed out and her knees buckled, but he held her hips tight and continued fucking her, hard. The way she was screaming made his dick throb more. She tried to curl up to ease the pain, but he held her firm. “I’ve wanted you for so long! Take my dick bitch, we have a lot of making up to do.” Zack fucked her relentlessly. He slapped her ass, pulled her head back by her ponytail and fucked her with raw, intense passion. She was so tight, hot and wet. Her body trembled with pain and pleasure.

“Fuck,” he groaned. She felt better than he imagined she would, and she was so submissive, taking everything he gave. She whimpered as he destroyed Escort Ankara her with his big, black dick, but she was getting wetter. Her tight pussy swallowed his entire dick. He was losing control, her ass bounced with each thrust. She gripped the sheets so tight her knuckles turned white.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she screamed, feeling her climax building. “Right there, don’t stop, I’m gonna cum!” She pushed back onto him as ecstasy overwhelmed her. Zack thrust harder and deeper into her. He pulled her hands back and pinned them behind her back, relinquishing whatever degree of control she had and rammed into her, intent on destroying her pussy. The way he took control, rendering her unable to do anything but take his dick sent her over the edge and she screamed again as she came, pulsing, all over his dick.

Zack pulled out and flipped her unto her back, held her by her hips and pulled towards him, ramming his dick back into her, fucking her mercilessly, drawing out another orgasm from her. At this point, he didn’t care anymore. She was completely surrendered to him, his own personal fuck toy, and that he did. He pushed her legs back to her chest and went deep and hard, her body to weak to push him away.

He fucked her hard and fast, losing his grip on reality with each thrust. His heart raced as climax built. His own body started trembling. Sweat ran down his body, dripping onto hers. She was helpless beneath him and that turned him on more. He owned her. “Take my dick like a good girl!” her growled, “This is my pussy!” All Kaydie could do at this point was nod as his dick ravished her pussy. He watched as her breasts bounce up and down, mesmerized. He wanted to cum in her, filling her until she was overflowing with cum. But that would definitely impregnate her, no doubt.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he felt the climax washing over him. She trembled and arched as he dug deeper. She was about to cum again, he could feel it. “Come swallow this load, don’t waste a drop!”

“Yes sir,” she whispered, breathless. Zack pulled his dick out of her pussy and pulled her up, forcing his dick down her throat, releasing his load. It was too much for her and she tried pushing him off, but he held her head on his dick as he pumped her throat full of cum. Her pussy throbbed as the simple gesture of choking her with his dick brought on her own orgasm. She loved being controlled and used and he did just that.

She gagged, swallowing his load, but obediently ensured she didn’t waste a drop, and again stuck out her tongue for him to see, proud of her achievement.

Zack wiped a tear from her eyes and patted her cheek. “Good girl.”

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The Friends List Ch. 01

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All characters are over 18 in this story. I started writing it with the intention of setting it in the present day, but the combination of COVID restrictions and cultural references I wanted to make has pushed the setting back to the year 2010. There should be nothing much in here that screams what year it is, though, apart from characters in their early 20’s fondly remembering the 90’s.

Thank you to Ravenna933 for the edits, and RawSilhouette for the inspiration, beta reading and plot development help.

The familiar lights of the GO Train station hove into view as my commuter train screeched to a stop. It was just after eleven PM on a cool late April evening, and I inhaled deeply as I exited, the slight sharpness of the air a reminder that winter had only recently released its hold on the city. I bounded down, suitcase in hand, and caught a taxi home.

I’d just finished my third year of university at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario, majoring in economics. I hoped to go to law school someday, but LSATs were a problem for the upcoming summer. For now, I was finally done for the year; my last exam written only days before. I’d spent a couple of days packing up my apartment and temporarily saying goodbye to my roommates — I was hanging onto the lease for the summer, and I planned to go back periodically, but for now, all I wanted was my own bed and some home cooking and a chance to decompress for a couple of weeks.

The driver navigated the familiar streets as I inched closer to home. As we finally reached my house, though, my jaw dropped — the house was pulsating with activity, with every window blazing with light and a loud, bassy thumping penetrating the windows of the car. People were everywhere — inside, outside, on the porch, the lawn — clearly having a massive party. What the fuck?

Annoyed, I shoved my way into the house, finding a raging inferno of university-aged kids occupying the living room. Where was Mom? Where was Vanessa? I shoved my way through the bodies and finally found my stepsister in the kitchen, holding court with a bunch of girls in low-cut tops and football-player type bros in athletic wear.

“What the fuck?” I opened angrily.

Vanessa looked up.

“Oh, hey, Peter! Everyone, Peter’s back!” She smiled sleepily at me. I quickly realized she was absolutely hammered, so drunk she appeared to be barely standing upright.

“Where are Mom and Walt?”

“Daddy and Diane went away for the weekend. Didn’t they tell you?”


“Relax, Peter. There’s a keg on the back porch and some liquor on the table. Help yourself.” She turned her attention back to her friends.

I was furious, but I recognized the hopelessness of the situation. Short of turning Vanessa in to Mom and Walt, there was little I could do but ride out the party. She lived here, so I couldn’t call the police or anything. It’s not like I was normally the type to turn down a party anyway, but I was exhausted from the long train ride, I had a headache, and I just wanted to go to sleep. I doubted I’d get any sleep for hours at this rate.

I headed for my room to drop off my suitcase, flinging the door open to find a slender Asian guy sitting on my bed, receiving a blowjob from a pretty dark-haired girl.

“Occupied! Get the fuck out!” the guy yelled at me.

“This is my room! I live here! You get the fuck out!” I shouted back, making eye contact. I wasn’t a violent person, but I was fully prepared to get physical with this guy if he insisted.

The guy and the girl exchanged a glance, then he stood up, bundling up his cock into his pants. The two of them glared at me as they left. Once they were gone, I jammed a chair under the doorknob and lay down on the bed, willing the thumping noise of a Justin Timberlake song to be turned down just a bit so I could relax. This was the last thing I needed tonight.

Vanessa. I hadn’t seen a lot of her or her friends this past year. Kingston to Guelph was far enough away that I couldn’t quite make it home on a random weekend, and she’d been on some sort of volunteer experience in Central America over Christmas. Had I even seen her since she started university? I wracked my brain and realized with a start that it had been since last September that we’d even spoken.

I figured she’d changed being a first-year student — Mom had hinted as much when I’d talked to her — but the shy, nerdy high school girl I’d known wouldn’t have done something like this. Her friend group in high school weren’t the partying type either, from my recollection — they were what I guess I’d have described as ‘cool nerds’. They were the kind of smart girls who effortlessly pulled good grades and weren’t what you’d call ultra-popular, but still had enough social skills and good hygiene not to be bullied.

For the first decade and a half of my life, it had just been me and my Mom. I’d never known my biological father, and once I was old enough to be told, I’d learned he had been a one-night stand and never made Ankara bayan escort it onto my birth certificate. Mom had never even told him she was pregnant. She finally married for the first time when I was fifteen, and while any blending of a family has its ups and downs, I’d liked my stepdad Walt enough. We both shared a love of music and bonded over jamming together with our guitars. He’d introduced me to some older bands and artists that I now loved — Big Star, Nick Drake, Robyn Hitchcock. Walt’s former wife had died of cancer years back, and once I got over my teenage bullheadedness and protectiveness of my Mom, I realized he was a good guy, and he made her happy.

But Walt had come with a teenage daughter, and two teenagers who were both used to being only children were never going to get along. It was never open warfare between us, but I never understood Vanessa and never made the effort, and I never got the feeling that she cared to get to know me, either. Having a teenage girl in the house mostly just meant the bathroom we shared was always occupied and there was never enough hot water or junk food. She was two years younger than me and immature; always seeming to be even younger than that in terms of her mental age. When I left home to go to university, she was barely sixteen.

Now, of course, she was nineteen to my twenty-one, and had just finished her first year in general arts and humanities at the University of Guelph. She’d spent the year living at home with our parents, which was another decision I didn’t understand. She didn’t have a boyfriend at home or any other reason that I could think of to want to stay. Mom had mentioned her friends had scattered throughout the province to go to school, so she wasn’t staying behind for them, and she wasn’t interested in farming or veterinary medicine or any of Guelph’s other academic specialties. But she clearly either hadn’t missed out on the freshman party lifestyle, or she had, and was making up for it tonight. Christ.

I lay there for a good ten minutes, trying to relax, before I decided it was a lost cause. I wouldn’t have chosen this, but I may as well make the most of it, right? I headed for the bar, quickly downed a double shot of bourbon from someone’s liquor bottle, then filled up a red Solo cup with beer from the keg as I looked around for familiar faces.

I spotted one hanging out in the backyard. “Hi, Laura.”

“Peter!” The blonde girl broke off from her conversation and bounded towards me, giving me a big, long hug.

“Easy there,” I squeaked. Laura’s grip was pretty strong.

“When did you get back?” She finally released me.

“Just now. I didn’t realize I was coming home to a party.”

“Yeah, Vanessa put all this together at the last minute.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Your parents decided to go out of town. They got some discounted last-minute theatre tickets in Toronto, I think she said. They’ll be home late tomorrow.”

“So that means throw a rager in their house? The Vanessa I knew wouldn’t have done that.”

“She’s changed a lot.”

I rolled my eyes.

“So have you, though! When did you grow a beard?” She reached out and gently touched it.

“Kingston gets cold in winter, and the wind and damp off Lake Ontario is murderous. I grew it to keep warm, and I guess I just got used to it.”

“It looks good on you!”

Laura Keelor was one of Vanessa’s high school friends. She was a tall blonde with glasses, a square face, a small chest and a big ass. Since I’d last seen her she’d filled out into an adult body, and she was prettier than I’d remembered. I caught myself glancing at her cleavage as I checked her out, wearing jeans and a flattering purple halter top.

I’d known that Laura had had a schoolgirl crush on me when we were both in high school, but she was socially awkward and one of my stepsister’s friends, both of which were reasons why I’d never taken a second look at her. But I’d certainly noticed the way she looked at me anytime we were in a space together. I’d always been flattered by her interest, as I hadn’t been used to knowing when girls were crushing on me, but the attention from Laura also creeped me out a little. I had generally tried to keep her at arms’ length.

“Is there anyone else here I’d know?” I asked her.

Laura thought for a minute. “A couple of the girls we hung around with in high school are here. Michelle Mackenzie is around somewhere with her boyfriend.”

I made a face.

“I know she was never your favourite person. I saw Samantha earlier too, but I haven’t seen her in at least an hour. She might have gone to the bar. A group left a while back.”

“I don’t remember that name.”

“Of course you know Sam. The one with the BMW?”

“Right,” I remembered. “The rich brat.”

“Did you like any of Vanessa’s friends?” Laura asked accusingly.

“I liked Monique.”

“And me, right?” Laura batted her eyelids hopefully.

“Sure,” I lied, “but I never Escort bayan Ankara got to know any of your group, not really. You know I’ve never been close to Vanessa.”

Laura nodded. “That might be it. These people at the party are mostly Vanessa’s new friends from university, I think. I barely know anyone here either.”

“You’re not at Guelph, then? Where did you go?”

“Western,” she responded. “My exams ended on Tuesday.”

“You like it?”

“It’s fine. First year is all general; I’m looking forward to more specialized classes. I also didn’t really fit in in residence. I was in the party rez, and I like parties, but I still like sleep and studying too. It’s probably not a coincidence I’m out here in the yard, huh?”

“It is super noisy in there.” I gestured at the house, which was practically throbbing with bass notes.

“Not my thing.”

“Yeah, this party’s a big one.”

“Monique!” Laura suddenly shouted across the yard.

I barely recognized her. Monique Lachance had been another of Vanessa’s friends in high school. She’d been the only one I’d ever talked to without Vanessa there; the only one I sort of knew, and I’d genuinely liked her. But I remembered her as a bookish, heavyset girl who lived in loose sweaters and flowing skirts; the kind of girl who never put a second thought into her appearance. The girl in front of me was thin and fit with a dyed scarlet red pixie cut, dressed in ripped stockings and a pleather halter top and miniskirt. She was setting off my gaydar from across the yard as she came over.

“Hi Laura. Hi Peter,” Monique smiled.

“You look different,” I sputtered.

“Yeah!” she agreed brightly. “Apparently getting out of your judgmental religious household is good for you!”

“Incredible. I barely recognized you.”

“Thanks. The past year has been really good for me.” She turned to Laura. “I just got here. Is Vanessa shitfaced already again?”

“At least she didn’t pass out on the lawn at 8 PM like last time,” Laura responded sarcastically.

“I feel like my stepsister has changed a little since I last saw her,” I interjected hopefully. I wanted Monique’s perspective.

“She has. I’m assuming you’re here for the night?” Monique asked, sidestepping the question.

“Well, I do live here…”

“I was planning to crash on the couch tonight and help with the cleanup tomorrow. I’ll fill you in then, if we don’t get the chance tonight.”

“This isn’t the first time?” I was suddenly concerned for the safety of my stuff in my room.

“She’s never hosted a party before, no. Your parents are always around.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, they are big homebodies. And I’m glad I’m here for this one. I can make sure the house is still standing tomorrow. If the worst that happens is a couple of glasses get broken and a couple of beds get defiled, we’ll be okay.”

“Speaking of defiling a bed, I wish Claire had been able to come…” Monique trailed off wistfully.

“Your girlfriend?”

Monique thought for a moment. “Let’s call her ‘the girl I’m currently hooking up with’.”

Laura sighed. “Everyone’s changed so much.”

Monique gave her friend a hug. “If you’ve never had drunken sex at a big house party, did you even go to university?”

“I already had to kick a couple engaged in a sex act out of my room,” I added. “I’m sure someone else is in there now.”

“Sex in your room, huh?” Laura’s face suddenly appeared lost in thought, and I noticed her biting her bottom lip. I’d learned to recognize the signs when a woman was getting turned on, and I could see them appearing in Laura right now. Christ, she has filled out nicely, hasn’t she? My feelings on her hadn’t changed, but the growing erection in my underwear was proof that I was suddenly feeling tempted in a way I never had before.

“Well, I’m off to see who else is here,” Monique interrupted the silence. “Nice to see you again, Peter. You too, Laura.”

Another pause followed as we watched Monique’s shapely behind disappear into the house.

“You’re majoring in English?” I changed the subject.

“Astrophysics.” Laura smiled. Her nipples were now poking through her thin top.

We stared awkwardly at each other again.

“I’m surprised you even remembered my name, Peter.”


“It’s fine.” She sighed. “You never paid me any attention.”

“You’re my stepsister’s friend. You’re younger. You were off limits back then.”

“Yeah, I know I was.” She sighed in disappointment.

My cock suddenly spoke up. “But you’re not anymore.”

“Oh?” Laura’s eyes suddenly were ablaze with anticipation.

“Want to go see if anyone else is in my room?” I quickly finished my beer.

“Why not?” She broke into a big smile.

I stood up, offering a hand, as I led her through the house towards my room.

The room was still empty, thankfully, as I closed the door behind us. I was instantly struck with second thoughts, asking myself if Bayan escort Ankara I really wanted to potentially stick my dick in crazy, but then I heard drunken shrieking out in the hall, and I was instantly annoyed again. Fuck everything, we’re doing this.

I turned around to face Laura, who was standing nervously, staring at me as she played with her ponytail. “I can’t believe this is really happening,” she whispered.

“You know it’s just a hookup, though, right?” I asked cautiously. “Nothing more?”

“Yeah, I know. I still want to do it.”

I pulled her closer to me, feeling her breath short against my cheek, then kissed her slowly. I could feel her lower lip trembling as she returned the kiss.

I led her to the bed, laying her down. I could feel her heart pounding against me as I gently ran my fingertips up and down her arm, across her hips, her breasts, through her hair. I could tell Laura was turned on, but I also wanted to calm her down a little before continuing. Her body was so taut with tension I was worried she’d faint.

We lay like that for at least ten minutes, not talking, listening to the raucous sounds of the party outside the room. At long last, I felt Laura’s breathing slow, and I took that as my cue to lean over and kiss her again, first slowly, then with more intensity. Her body was still stiff and tight, like a coiled spring.

“Relax,” I whispered. I reached under her shirt and into the cup of her bra, touching her stiff nipple. She sucked in her breath as I gently tweaked it, and I felt the tension in her body increase further.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She nodded quickly. “I’m just really turned on.”

I took that as my cue to let my hand drift down between her legs, where I found the crotch of her leggings damp with copious moisture. I was surprised, and I looked up at her. She averted her eyes in embarrassment.

“Sorry. I get really wet really easily.”

“It’s okay. It’s hot.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “Guys seem to think it’s gross.”

“Those guys are crazy.” I touched the wet patch, quickly finding the firm spot that was clearly making its presence known near the top of the puddle.

“You found my clit?” Laura breathed, stifling a moan. “Through two layers?”

“I don’t know if I approve of these guys you’re sleeping with, based upon your reactions,” I teased her.

Laura blushed. “There haven’t been that many. I know Western girls have a bit of a slutty reputation, but I never really got into that.”

“Well, that is what Western’s known for. They can’t do a Nativity play at Christmas, because they can’t find a virgin or three wise men.”

Laura laughed. “I don’t even know why I’m in bed with a Queen’s guy. Our schools are archrivals, after all.”

“I don’t care about football.”

“Me neither.”

“Besides, I don’t care how many guys you’ve been with.”

“That’s good of you to say, but you’re only my third anyway,” she revealed. “Oooooh. Who taught you how to touch a girl like that?”

I didn’t answer, but instead I pulled back and slid my hand into her leggings. Her mound was bare and smooth, and she was wet, as wet a pussy as I’d ever touched, just a flood of hot arousal that instantly coated my hand as I spread what felt like prominent inner labia with my fingertip and collected moisture from the source.

“What do you like?” I asked her as I stroked up and down around her opening, experimenting with different pressure points and strokes as I tried to gauge her reactions.

Laura looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you like it hard, soft, fast, slow? You can guide me if you want to.”

She shook her head. “No one’s ever asked me that before. I don’t even know how to answer.”


“Like…” she thought for a minute. “Like I know what I do that feels good, but I don’t know if I know how to explain it.”

“Show me. Guide my hand.”

Laura reached into her panties, grasping my fingers and guiding them into a light, slippery stroke in circles around the hood of her clit. After a few moments, I shook her off and started touching her, mimicking what she’d done.

“Oh, Peter, that’s so good,” she whined, raising her hips to my touch.

I tried to keep reading her reactions as her body moved in sync with my fingers. As her movements grew more frantic, I gradually increased speed and pressure, and before long she came. The tension in her body was unbelievable as she grasped my body firmly and her legs closed around my fingers. I watched her face scarlet with pleasure as her orgasm blew through her body. She was holding her breath, and I could see the veins in her neck bulging with exertion.

In a moment she finally relaxed, her body turning to jelly. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

“That was hot. That looked like a big one.”

“It was,” was all she could spit out.

I was hard, but I was prepared to be patient, as Laura appeared to be in no condition to do much but lie and catch her breath. I lay together with her for a few moments, hearing the racing of her heart as I rested my head on her chest. The sounds of the party through the wall felt like they might conceivably be dying down a little.

“Can I ask you something?” Laura finally broke the silence.

“Of course.”

“How did you do that?”

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