The Woods

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Chapter One

He weaved his way through the overgrown foliage almost by second nature. It was a path he’d trekked many times, although it had been almost six months since he’d last hiked it. With a mild winter, things still grew readily, and as a result, there were a lot of limbs that would need to be cut back on his next trip. But that was for another day. Today was the first really perfect day of the short spring season central Texas usually experienced… low humidity, clear blue skies, and wildflowers in full bloom. He wasn’t about to miss a minute of it doing trail maintenance – if you could call it a trail.

Once a campground, the acreage behind his home had long since gone the way of re-naturalization, which despite the deteriorating conditions, was actually to his benefit. Very few neighbors even had access to this wild area, and from the condition of the trail, it seemed those that did weren’t utilizing it. Which was perfect… it meant he’d be alone. He always enjoyed his time alone outdoors, and he was excited today. Already, he could feel himself growing thick with anticipation, shifting heavily in his shorts with each step.

Not far away, she was relishing the day as well. Part of group of classmates who’d decided on a whim to go to Texas for spring break, she loved the outdoors and spending the day at the lake on a rental boat was the perfect way to start a week of much needed relaxation. It was great to get away from the stresses of school and her part of the world. Her only real concern now that they were there was how to get a little time to herself.

As her friends goofed around diving in and out of the boat, she eyed the shoreline and it’s dense tree growth. Rocky cliffs rose in either direction from the outcropping of land near which they had anchored for the day. Far off to her left, at the peak of the gradual incline of limestone, she could see people peering down at the lake, golf course and boaters. They were close enough to tell apart boy from girl by what they were wearing, but not close enough to make out any details of their faces- in other words, a good hike. Just the ticket, she thought, as she turned back to watch her friends at play. Already well into the stash of beer, their faces were rosy from the unimpeded sunlight mixed with the dilating effects of the alcohol.

“Any of you guys wanna go on a hike with me?” she asked.

Her girlfriend, who was lying beside her, glanced back over her shoulder. “What’d you have in mind?” she asked, as she adjusted the small bit of material covering her butt so as not to get such a definite tan line. Earlier, she’d already removed her top.

“I want to go up there… where those people are,” she said, pointing high up to the overlooking cliff’s edge, dotted with figures.

“Looks like a lot of work to me. I thought we were here to relax, have fun… maybe meet a few cute guys,” her friend replied as she watched a ski boat zoom by, loaded with frat guys hooting and hollering back at the scantily clad ladies. “But if that’s what you want to do, don’t let me stop you.”

“Fine… I think I will.”

She sat up, put on her sandals and cap, pulling her ponytail through the hole in back. Grabbing a small backpack, she eased into the water, holding the pack overhead. Her toes touched bottom just as the water reached her neck, but as she neared the shoreline, boulders provided footing for her to climb out. As she stood on one and slung her pack over her shoulder, she was both excited and nervous about setting out alone. She called back to her friend, who was turning over to lie on her back, pert young breasts glistening with tanning lotion, “If I’m not back in a couple hours, come look for me… I’ll be somewhere between here and up there!” Her girlfriend nodded passively, clearly more intent on getting herself into a more seductive position before that ski boat turned and made another pass. She smiled as she turned back to the shoreline and made her way through the first row of bushes and trees.

The deeper into the woods he hiked, the warmer he became under the noonday sun, and soon he was sweating. Stopping briefly to remove his shirt, he peered through the trees along the cliff down to the river’s edge. Several boats had already dropped anchor at the mouth of the creek as many more motored up and down the wide river into which it emptied. A few even had skiers in tow, though the water was still cool enough to require the use of at least a minimal wetsuit. He glanced down at the boat nearest the shore. There were half a dozen college-aged kids on or around it already having fun. One nicely figured girl was lying at the bow of the boat, sunning as she spoke to another. He packed his shirt and took a drink of water. Just as he was about to replace his pack, he glanced out again, and the girl had turned over… topless! A grin spread across his face as he realized it must be spring break. ‘There’ll be a lot of that going on this Belek travesti week’ he thought to himself. ‘Maybe I’ll head downtown tonight and see what kind of trouble I can get into’ his smile widening as he stole one last glance, then resumed his descent to the lush clearing at the base of this wild peninsula.

Five minutes later, he had reached the bottom and the trees started to thin, small pockets of meadow thick with wild grass and flowers springing up in to meet the direct sunlight. He could hear the music and screams of the spring breakers just beyond the lush tree line against the shore. Having been at their vantage point many times in years past, he knew it was impossible for them to see anything but a solid wall of leafy green… and then only if you were looking. There were always much nicer things to look at on the water, usually in the boat right next to you.

Comfortable with this privacy, he spread out a doublewide beach towel, followed by his favorite self-inflating camp pad. As he hooked the straps together that converted the pad to a chair, he heard a slight rustling in the woods, dismissing it instantly as deer shying away from his presence.

Once everything was set, he unbuttoned his shorts and slid them down his legs, kicking them to the side as he stood. The full force of the sun hitting his nude skin was an instant aphrodisiac, and combined with the knowledge that only thirty or so yards away was a cute, young topless woman, he felt his already thick member rise up to full attention. He stood there a moment, admiring himself in the sunlight. He was tall and, while not as tone as when he was the same age as the nearby partiers, was still reasonably fit.

The tanning membership during the overcast winter months had helped, too. He had a good base tan going, and was not afraid of burning as he reached down to grab the bottle of oil. He opened the cap and poured a bit into the palm of his hand, spreading it along his forearms. He repeated this process several times, working on the same arm when he got restless. ‘This way will take forever’ he thought, as he stepped to the side, away from the towel. He raised the bottle to his chest and upended it, literally pouring the oil all over himself. A rush of excitement coursed through him as he felt the warm, viscous fluid dripping down his chest and abdomen… around the base of his proud shaft… down the insides of his muscular thighs. He set the bottle down and, using both hands, began to slowly rub the oil all over his body.

It seemed like he was one big erogenous zone… everywhere he touched caused a ripple to course over his skin, which broke out in goose bumps despite the bright sunlight. Soon, every inch of his flesh was glistening like a gladiator ready for the fight. He lingered as his hands passed down the small of his back, over his buttocks… fingers playing along the crease. He brought one hand forward and gripped his swollen self, gliding lazily along its moderate length as the fingers of his other hand gently prodded and probed his tight hole. He leaned his head back and let out a low moan as he felt himself connecting with nature in every sense of the word. The sun shone red trough his lightly closed eyelids as he slowly, rhythmically traveled back and forth along his shaft. He never seemed to grow as large as when he was outside in the sun, and he loved the feel of his thickness in his hand. A shame he couldn’t share it with anyone else, but exciting nonetheless. Another rustle of the deer slowly brought him out of his trance and with a final, evening spread of the oil, he lay down on the mat, reclining in the sun… glistening and thick.

Her first thought as she pressed her way forward through the growth was that if it didn’t let up soon, she’d have to turn back. How those other people had gotten up there, she’d no idea. Clearly, there was another way. Regardless, her shoulders and thighs were taking such a scraping from the rough branches that she was just about to give up when she saw an open area just beyond the next few trees. With some struggle, she made her way through and stood tall for the first time since she said goodbye to her friend. Easing the muscles in her lower back, hands on hips, she looked around to re-establish her bearings. She hadn’t gone far… thirty feet or so… but while she could still hear her friends playing in the water and laughing, she felt a world-removed.

It was amazing how much the scenery had changed in such a short distance. The cool blues of water and sky had been replaced by the bright, fresh greens of spring, along with a mix of bluebonnets, sunflowers, and Indian paintbrush. As she relaxed to the swaying motion of the treetops in the trees, something caught her eye at the edge of the clearing. Looking closer, she could make out a figure moving.

Curious, she quietly crossed the meadow, discretely making her way closer, trying to be quiet. She squatted Kemer travesti down in the shade and peered through the row of trees separating her from the next clearing. Her eyes squinted as she tried to be sure of what she was seeing. There was a man… well muscled and tall, probably in his thirties, spreading out a large beach towel. His tan torso glistened with sweat as he put together some sort of chair. Absentmindedly, her lips parted and her tongue snaked along them as she watched him getting ready to, apparently, sunbathe. Her eyes widened and her breathing stopped as she watched his next action… he unbuttoned his shorts and was taking them off – he was naked underneath!

Heart racing… she inched forward, trying to be wary of the dead leaves and branches underfoot, but eager to get a better view. Hugging the back of a small boulder, she peered over and watched as he started spreading tanning oil over his body. Her hiking plans quickly vanished as she watched him slowly pour the oil over himself. All she could see was his back and tight buttocks as he started to spread the oil around. She felt naughty as she watched, afraid of being discovered… but at the same time, she couldn’t deny the damp heat between her thighs.

‘If I could just get a little closer,’ she thought as she took another step or two forward. She smiled as she watched his fingers disappear between his cheeks… “Mmmm… what fun.’ She hastily shifted her weight behind the stone, freezing as she heard the snap of a branch underfoot. She looked back up and saw he had stopped and was getting ready to lie down. Her fear that she might be discovered was forgotten as she saw him turn around and lie back in his chair… he was huge! Her jaw dropped as she saw the thick, veiny member hanging semi-hard between his thighs. His pubic hair was closely trimmed and nicely framed this new work of art she wanted to admire more closely. She watched eagerly as he yawned, arms stretching overhead then interlocking behind his head. His eyes shut and he seemed to doze off.

It was only now that she realized what a precarious position she was in. It would be almost impossible to move in any direction without making some kind of noise, and now that he wasn’t moving or otherwise occupied, surely he would hear her. She squatted down lower, until her butt seated firmly on the ground and she repositioned her legs. Unfortunately, she could no longer see his nakedness from this position without leaning far over to her right. But this was ok, as it gave her time to rethink her plan.

Glancing down between her legs, she was surprised to see the material at her crotch had gone very dark from the wetness that was soaking from her. ‘God, I am so turned on right now,’ she thought to herself. ‘Wish I had some of that oil!’ After a few minutes, she peeked around the boulder. He hadn’t moved. In fact, judging from the steady rise and fall of his chest, he seemed to be dozing off. ‘Great. Now what do I do?’ she wondered, but her gaze drifted from his handsome face down his muscled chest and abs… coming to rest on the mass of flesh between his thighs. Again, her lips parted and a small moan escaped her. Slowly, she brought a hand to her wetness and was further surprised by the heat there. ‘Well, I know one way to pass the time,’ she mused.

Slowly, gently she raised her hips off the ground and slid her shorts off. Next, she untied the knots perched on either hip then let the moist triangle of material that made up her swimwear fall away. She could smell her sex instantly, and her arousal peaked. As she leaned to the side to spy on her prey, she brought a hand to her wet lips… weighing their puffiness… feeling them part under her touch. She gently slid a finger inside as she watched his chest rise and fall… subconsciously timing the rhythm of her finger to his breathing.

His cock was moving on its own… now swelling… now leaning… now shrinking slightly – always hovering in the zone between flaccid and erect. She wondered what he must have been dreaming about. She lay back gently on the ground, as quietly as possible, and her free hand untied the knot at the back of her neck. Pulling her top down, she gently lifted a breast… her fingers tweaking her nipples as she fantasized about the nude form in front of her. Sounds from around her seemed to disappear as she felt the walls of her pussy closing in on her fingers and she knew she was close.

Hips thrusting in rhythm to her fingers, she rocked back and forth on the ground as a quick but intense orgasm escaped her, along with a light squeal that left her lips seconds before she realized it was too late. The hand between her tightly-clamped legs stopped as she watched him stir and stretch, her heart racing once again not only from her orgasm, but also for fear… or want of discovery.

Chapter Two

Something brings me out of a deep sleep. Opening my eyes slowly to the Konyaaltı travesti blinding brightness, I take a moment to regain my bearings. Ahhh, yes… my secret place. I stretch out slowly, feeling the warmth of my skin as my hands drift back down my arms… over my chest. I reach over for my water and take a long sip… so refreshing. I feel myself shift in my lap and I glance down to see that my thickness has intensified though my erection softened during my nap. ‘Everything’s bigger in Texas,’ I joke to myself as I set the water aside and reach into the bag to grab some “reading material” to further assist the mood.

I pull an adult magazine from the confines of my backpack, the cover promising to expose beautiful college coeds in only the most exposing positions. Very low class and dirty, I know, but what I’m in the mood for right now. As I set it to the right side of me and open it, my left hand slides up and down the top of my thigh, slowly working its way closer to my hardening shaft. I swear I smell sex in the air, and my mind returns for a fleeting second to the pretty little topless coed on the boat not a stone’s throw from where I lay.

The first few pages open to a beautiful shorthaired blonde, stripping herself of a tiny bikini and posing against a jet ski. ‘How appropriate,’ I think to myself as the buzz of water bikes hopping wakes out on the lake drones in the distance. My hand slowly circles the base of my shaft, fingers under my balls, thumb closing in at the space between my pubic bush and cock. I give myself a gentle squeeze, thumb and forefinger closing to make a tight circle around my sex, which is now throbbing with anticipation and desire. Veins so thickly engorged, they seem to be laced on the outside of my skin rather than just below the sensitive surface.

I turn the page with my free hand to see my lovely fantasy woman kneeling down on the seat, leaning forward with her hands buried in the sandy shore, her ass turned up high… one of my favorite positions… begging to have a tongue thrust into her sex. I release my grip and fondle my balls, my sac nice and loose from the heat of the mid-day sun. My fingers drift lower… teasing the swell between my balls and my ass… pressing in… watching my cock surge from the increased pressure. I smile at my thickness then return my gaze to the next few pages.

She’s getting a little raunchier now… fingers spreading her lips wide, revealing the depths of her inner self – again, my mouth waters. My hand drifts upwards, surrounding my cock with a loose fist, as I begin to stroke up and down. Last page of this spread and she is on her neck and shoulders, her back up against the side of the jet-ski, her legs curled over so that her knees are on either side of her head.

I drift off into fantasy… leaning over the other side of the seat, planting my face on her sex… sucking her wetness into my mouth… burying my tongue between those thick, pouty, shaved lips. She’s pinching her nipples tightly… screaming out as the waves hit the shore and graze her shoulders. My palms are on her perfectly shaped ass… her youthful body void of any excess body fat, her tight and tone muscles quivering under my touch. As she screams louder in my mind, I scream out too, my fist driving out the first of many orgasms today. Thick wads of pearly come cover my abs and chest, as I fantasize I am tracing the outline of her asshole with my tongue as she shudders from her orgasm. The hand around my cock slows until it gradually stops. I collect some of the larger gobs of come with my fingers and bring them to my greedy mouth, tasting the slightly acid/salty liquid from my loins, making me that much hotter. I relax a bit… catching my breath. I must pace myself if I’m going to spend the rest of the afternoon out here. I stand up slowly and spread some more oil over my backside, then lay down on my stomach. I nestle my head into my crossed forearms and drift off into the obligatory post-orgasmic nap, sated… for the moment.

Your fear of discovery is soon replaced by need of release as you watch me through the trees. I’m looking at something while my hand fondles my swelling cock. Your mind clears as you watch the scene before you, this older man… outdoors… naked… oily… masturbating himself. It’s a scene you’ve often conjured up in your own fantasies and one you achingly want to participate in. But as you realize this, you also think that this is the perfect time to get out of this danger zone. I am highly preoccupied to say the least.

You’ve spied an outcropping of rocks behind where I lay, and think that from somewhere amongst them, your view will surely be better, not to mention safer. But you’ll have to go around the long way if you are going to do it undetected, so with a last, longing look at the view ahead, you tiptoe back to the far edge of the clearing and try to work your way through the dense pockets of underbrush, fighting the desire to stop a moment and get dressed or press on so as not to miss the action. You side with the later and it is not long until your naked form emerges from the undergrowth onto the rocky outcropping that climbs its way alongside and behind the meadow where I lie.

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The Wife Who Gave It Away – Melody

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As sex is consensual and among mature adults over 30.


My wife and I first met Melody and Earl at ‘Texas Tommy’s.’ We were looking around in the mall and went into ‘Texas Tommy’s’, a western clothing store that has everything from saddles to shoes, boots to buckles and just about anything you might imagine tied to a western theme.

I took note of the gal who was going through the blue jean skirts on a rack just inside the door. Melody was a blond, fairly attractive, about 38 years old. It turned out she was married to Earl, a big burly guy, probably 55 or older, who was always mistaken for Kenny Rogers although in truth he was taller and carried at least 50 extra pounds. Earl had the same facial set up that Rogers wore when he did the ‘Gambler’ film for TV and I don’t think I ever saw him without those distinctive facial whiskers.

As I turned round, taking my eyes off of Melody who seemed to be headed towards the back of the store, maybe to try on a dress, there was this big guy, Earl, talking the ears off my wife. He was covered with smiles and was loquacious. He had obviously asked my wife her opinion. Of course my wife considered herself a designer and was busy going through the folded shirts and holding them up one by one next to Earl’s big face and seemed pleased to have a new follower. She matched up a light blue pattern that picked up the color of Earl’s eyes and before long Melody appeared and Earl introduced us to his wife, who I’d previously thought was a hooker trolling the mall for clients. Naturally Melody smiled and joined our group.

We four were now one, as if a small school of fish traveling together, we didn’t miss an aisle. Melody found a crystal horse pendant with a leather tie, I grabbed an oversized mocha wallet with an embossed cowboy with boots who for some reason seemed to be jumping into the air. Earl picked out a jean dress he insisted he was going to buy for my wife and a fringed leather jacket for himself, but it turned out they didn’t have the jacket in his size.

We took our items and were lined up at the lone cashier for a while because the customer ahead of us had a credit card that didn’t scan. Finally someone got a piece of plastic wrap, put it over the card and it worked. The customer was then was processed and we were next. When we all made our purchases, Earl had found an extra large wide belt in the meantime. Once we paid, Earl, as friendly as a big bear, suggested we all adjure to the Starbucks and have some coffee and get to know each other.

I wasn’t too interest but my wife and Earl seemed to be leading the parade so the rest of us, Melody and myself, followed behind them into the coffee place. We got on the coffee line which seemed to be taking forever. Finally, having paid the cashier, we waited for the Barista (what a stupid snobby name) who required us to loudly sound our names so he could write them with a felt pen on the cups. I said my name was “Leroy,” which it wasn’t and Earl said, “Kenny.” My wife who is to honest to a fault, said “Flo” and Melody said, “Just put ‘Mel’ on there Honey,” as she kind of pumped up her chest.

With our hot coffee cups in hand, we found a place to sit and as Earl mentioned, we had swapped one long line in Texas Tommy’s for another in the Starbucks. Earl told us that he was a close friend of the owner of the western store, Mr. Tommy’s, and had helped him plan out the store display.

“I’m sort of a shadow manager,” he said, “I check on the condition of the store and report back to the owner.”

“You know Mr. Tommy?” I said.

“There isn’t a Mr. Tommy,” said Earl, “he’s an Armenian guy named Levic.”

“Wow,” I thought, this guy seems to know what he’s talking about.

Melody kept looking around the crowded room and would join in the conversation every few minutes to contribute pieces of her obviously varied life experiences. Before the hot coffee was drunk we knew the she had a second breast enlargement recently and was tellingly my wife, who was a natural 32DD of a place where they made custom fitted brasiers one town away. It seems that Earl only wanted the best for his wife, or should I say the best for his wife’s tits. This custom tit tailor was about 3 times the cost of a good quality bra. I’m not talking about a ‘19.95 Playtex’ but the fancy lace ‘$65-85 Wacol’s.’

“How long do the implants last?” asked my Flo.

“Hon, you gotta think of them like tires on a truck, every few years they get worn out and ya gotta replace ’em.”

We also learned that when Earl wasn’t watching ‘Texas Tommy’s’ he was a contractor currently employed as the site manager for a Chinese building and architectural firm. They were in the middle of constructing a slew of custom homes high up on a ridge overlooking the city. Melody was working at a local Real Estate broker’s office studying to get her Salesman’s License. As she was just learning the ropes, I offered any advice she might need as I was an Economics teacher with some real estate Lara Travesti experience. My wife added that she did home design work for several local builders. Earl nodded his head and said he knew of them.

That’s how our friendship started. Earl was like a big Teddy bear, warm and protective and generous to a fault. He was always ready to pick up the bill and a dinner out always meant a sizable bar bill that we’d have to fight over. My wife didn’t drink and I was good for a single tall beer at best, so when it was my change to pay I felt like I was supporting two alcoholics. That was probably unfair of me but if we’d simply paid for our own food/drinks I would have come off with a much small bill.

We started eating out with them at different steak houses over the next couple of months. I have to admit, those two were fun to go out with. One night we passed a strip tease club and Earl said , “Let’s go” and before I knew it we were inside the club drinking whiskies and the titties were flying.

There was a sign on the wall that said Friday nights were Amateur Nights and to my surprise Melody thought she and my wife should try out, the prize was $100, hardly a consideration but if the girls wanted to wave their tits around for a bunch of strangers I thought the whole idea kind of funny. Of course that idea never came to fruition, my wife got cold feet or was it cold tits.

Curious about when they lived, we suggested we’d come to visit them one night. Earl had said he wanted to show me some painting he’d acquired. It was a small apartment on the wrong side of town, two blocks out of the industrial zone. They had decorated it sparsely but nicely. Ray sat in a big leather chair nursing a glass of whiskey when I we walked in. Flo was taken in hand and walked into the bedroom by Melody who wanted to show her some clothes she’d bought.

I sat down on the sofa facing Earl. He poured me a glass of Jack Daniels, threw in a few small ice cubes. He reached over and handed me the crystal glass and then got up and walked over to the wall where three paintings hung. He turned on the small light that was attached to the top of the gilt frame.

“So what da ya think?” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you recognize them?”

“Tell me about them.” I was begging the question.

“Christ man, they are Picasso’s, they’re worth a cool million if they are worth a penny.”

I got up and got closer,

“Are they really, wow?”

“Of course they are, look at the signature.”

Sure enough, there was the signature in the right corner that looked a little smudged.

“Look,” Earl got up, visibly agitated, and grasped the painting by its frame. He lifted it up off the wall and turned it over.

“Look there is the official seal.”

And by God there it was, a big red stamp like a diploma with French writing that from what I could understand was a government authentication. It was signed Picasso Authorization Center and, then a chain of provenance signed by Claude Ruiz-Picasso, who Earl said was a son or grandson in charge of such things.

“Look,” said Earl, “let me advise you, if you don’t buy art, you should start to buy gold coins, wait till the price dips and buy ’em, the price always goes up. I got a suitcase full hidden here in the apartment don’t I hon?”

Melody nodded. I was astounded. About that time I was ready to ask to see the hidden suitcase full of gold coins but I feared if it were stolen I might be a suspect.

Later that evening we learned that Melody was a divorcee’ with a grown daughter who was a dope addict. Earl was also a divorced.

“His first wife,” said Melody in a low voice, “had become a lesbian.”

I don’t think Earl heard that comment, he was probably a little deaf, but he piped up in a loud voice, “I have a son who I left my classic Harley Davidson Fatboy with. Wait till you see that. I also have an adopted son who is a native American Indian. His family were killed in a drunk driving accident but the kid survived. Had no place to go so I adopted him.”

“Do you still keep in touch with them all?”

“From time to time,” said Earl. Melody nodded.

“My son has had some problems, always has his hand out. The Injun is doing fine, works for a moving company in …” and he named a city a few hours distant.

I didn’t press him on his troubles or anything else, people are entitled to start a new life. I gathered they’d been married at least 5 or six years ago but there were no photos of that happy event on the bare mantel, just the Picasso’s hanging there.

By now several months had passed and we had all become best of friends without really knowing much more about them, but little by little like sand through an hourglass we got the feeling we knew who they were. The more you know someone the more you begin to know who you are dealing with. It’s like seeing out through dirty glasses, everything is blurry until you clean them and then hopefully everything Manavgat travesti comes into focus. But Earl and Melody were still a little blurry.

That weekend they had added a small band as entertainment at the ‘Jethro Steak House.’ We were in the middle of our dinner when an unruly drunk bumped into our table spilling our drinks all over the place. The waitress and one of the bus boys escorted him out and apologized for the intrusion. They set up new drinks and changed the table. Earl seemed annoyed by the disruption and he started talking about how he could kill a person with just one finger. A skill he said he learned when he was a Navy Seal. As he kind of looked to have the body of a sea lion, the idea that he was an expert swimmer didn’t seem strange at all.

At some point Melody excused herself to go to the bathroom and a few minutes later I realized I’d left my wallet in our car. I walked out back and saw some guy was standing next to Earl’s car. Suspecting he might me about to break into it I carefully crossed over a few aisles of the parking lot to get a better look. Then I saw he was leaning over with his hands in the front so I figured he was taking a piss. I realized that wasn’t the case when I saw some gal’s blond hair bobbing up and down and it looked like it might be Melody. I went back to my car, got my wallet that had fallen off the front seat and went back inside. No, it couldn’t have been Melody, there she was sitting at the table drinking her whiskey and looking as innocent as a newborn babe. That’s when her eyes looked up and met mine and after that I wasn’t so sure.

Earl started up a new story. He recounted that some years ago he was on the replacement team that went into Pakistan to kill Bin Laden. When the first team lost its helicopter Earl’s team was standing by in a hanger at some secret location awaiting word to join them. Fortunately they weren’t needed. My respect for Earl grew by leaps and bounds after he confided that story and I was pleased when he insisted that he had to swear me to secrecy. I was so proud, my buddy was a real American hero.

Seems Earl was still on call as a military consultant and he’d disappear every now and then for a few days at a time. These were secret missions and he could not discuss the details but he did say he was advising a clandestine Cuban military group in Miami who were hell bent on killing Castro but our government preferred to stall them and wait for Castro to die a natural death. Earl was meeting with them in a high school gymnasium and schooling them on hand to hand combat.

When Earl was away on a mission, we offered to take Melody out for dinner but on that one occasion I was busy with something, so Flo drove over to their place and picked up Melody. That was agreeable to me, I had plenty to do and this constant socializing was a drain on my free time. My wife, Flo, had planned to take Melody to one of our usual restaurants, but Melody didn’t want to go there so they ended up in what my wife said was some sleazy bar that gave out free tacos with overly sweet alcoholic drinks. But my wife, non to clever in that arena, did eventually figure out that it was also a ‘pick up place’ and I don’t mean pick up in the sense of ordering dinner and picking it up. I mean the men arriving there were looking for single women who wanted to have sex at the motel next door or in their trucks outside.

As my wife was younger and more attractive then Melody, I assumed she was supposed to function as the bait. My wife got tired of saying no to strange men who slaundered over to their table offering them free drinks. Flo was embarrassed by the situation and excused herself, got up, left Melody at the table and went to hide in the bathroom. Evidently Melody met someone while my wife was sitting in the bathroom and disappeared for about forty minutes. By that time Flo had returned to their table, now instead of two cocktail glasses there were now six empty ones.

Eventually Melody returned through the back door, looking a bit disheveled and her horse pendant was missing and there was a long streak of something wet on her blouse. Melody said she spilled some hot sauce on her blouse. My wife, not wanting to be tarred with Melody’s behavior thought it best they leave, she didn’t ask any questions.

“Of course hot sauce is red, not white or grey,” said Flo.

When Flo came home that night she didn’t tell me much, she left out most of the story. It took a while before she opened up with what really went on that night.

The next weekend Earl called to say he had discovered a terrific seafood place out on the coast. It was about 40 miles away so we all went in his car. He said he was taken there for a briefing and in fact there was a military base nearby. With the roar of the highway I couldn’t hear what the girls in the back seat were conversing about as he drove. Then, about half way there Earl abruptly pulled off the highway, stopped just past the exit and waited.

“Are Side travesti you ok, Earl?”

“I just wanted to make sure no one was following us,” he responded .

It turned out this was his modus operandi, confirmed by Melody, he did this all the time. He had told her he was working a secret undercover job for the FBI and had to be sure that no one was following him. Why ‘they’ would be following him he never explained.

Can that be true? Asked my wife.

“I don’t know,” said Melody.

At the dinner table Earl started again on his rant about his distrust of banks, something he’d said on previous occasions. He told me again I should start to acquire gold coins.

“When the world goes to shit, the banks will be closed for the duration.”

Whatever crisis Earl foresaw he didn’t elucidate, but that’s when his gold horde would permit their survival.

“If ya can’t afford gold try silver, it’s a lot cheaper.”

About that time, instead of gold coins or silver bars we were decided to look for a nicer house. My wife asked Melody to keep her eyes out at the real estate office for any bargains. That was when Melody told her she had been fired from the job. It seems she was having an affair with her boss and the boss’ wife found out.

The boss, pretending to meet a buyer, would take Melody to unoccupied homes for which he had a key or code to unlock the lockbox. In they would go in as if he was showing the home to a prospective buyer, obviously that part was played by Melody. Once inside they’d make it straight to the bedroom for a fast fuck and then back to the office. Unfortunately the wife, who was a partner in their real estate office had on that occasion a legitimate client with her when she walked in on the two of them in flagrante delicto, you might say that was when the shit hit the fan. Exit Melody, one prospective real estate saleswoman, fired.

I’d found a nice house up on a hill outside town but it had some water damage. I’d asked Earl to take a look at it and he pointed out various additional drainage problems that he said might not be repairable. Knowing he was the expert, his comments discouraged me from making an offer.

My wife, being a bit prudish, thought the time had come to diminish out contact with the couple, Melody’s escapades were getting to be a bit much. But Earl called us a week later. Sales of real estate were slow and the builder he was working for offered him or anyone he knew a super low price on these homes he was constructing. He gave us the address and we went over to check out the houses which were about half finished and a good distance away. And there was Earl, all by himself, no workmen in sight, to show us the homes. There were three for sale and you had to buy all three to make the deal.

I asked Earl, “Would you be interested in taking one for yourself and we could sell off the other one?”

It was as if he hadn’t heard me,

“This is a great opportunity for you guys, you buy ’em, I’ll finish ’em up and you’ll make a killing.”

We thought about being involved, but because the houses were only half finished and we didn’t know what it would cost to complete them, and although we could have swung purchasing one of them, for some reason we thought better of it, maybe we were beginning to have doubts about Earl.

The next night Earl insisted he’d introduce us to the owners of the houses. He took us out to dinner with his boss, Sam Chung and his family. It was the Chinese New Year and among the Chinese it was customary to give red envelopes with money to employees and on this occasion he invited them and their guests out to dinner at a well known French restaurant. I must say, the Chinese family were very warm and generous to invite us but there was no mention of the houses.

After our dinner at a swank French restaurant, where they served everything from snails to turtle, not wanting be rude we followed Earl and Melody back to his small apartment. Earl and I sat and conversed. While Earl discussed his theory of the Kennedy assassination years back, the girls disappeared into the bedroom. During this time Melody confided to my wife that she wasn’t pleased with having sex with Earl.

“Well, what is wrong with him? He can’t perform?”

“Well, he’s ok for foreplay, he goes down on me like a sperm whale and if he can’t get it up he takes a viagra and then he’s fine but hon, it just ain’t doing it for me.”

She then explained that her remedy was quite simple. She was very much attracted to the local Fed-Ex delivery man who wore short pants as he scampered about the neighborhood. So she began shipping empty boxes to herself and when the Fed-Ex guy brought them to the door, she’d come out to the door half naked and before long she had little trouble seducing the guy whose cock she assured Flo was so long it was hardly covered by his shorts. Evidently she was getting more value out of these trysts than she had paid for the postage.

I knew a guy who worked at the downtown Fed-Ex office and I asked him if he knew the delivery guy on Melody’s Street.

“Oh, yeah.”

Had he seen Melody?

“She’s a blond, about 5 foot 6? Maybe about forty years old? Looks a little worn out? Drives a yellow Chevy?”

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The Vermeer

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This is a copyrighted original work of fiction. All rights reserved.

All characters featured herein in adult situations are at least eighteen years of age, even if not expressly stated. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Many thanks to BlackRandl1958, Jim K and Michael B for the superb editing work.

This work may not be copied or distributed without the exclusive written permission of this author.


I was in deep shit. The whole business was collapsing around me. I owed two and a half million dollars to some very nasty people, money that neither I nor my family had. I had only one fleeting hope of survival. I called my father for sage advice.

I flew down to St. Kitts to meet Pops and my Ma; both are getting on in years. After totally freaking out on me, Pops strongly suggested I meet with the family lawyer, Christo, back in Toronto.

I caught the next flight back and managed to catch him. I went straight to his downtown Bay St. office.

After a short wait, I was ushered into his big corner office. He sat at his fancy polished wood desk, with a background of standard lawyerly prop reference books behind him. His jacket was off and his blue silk tie contrasted sharply with the crisp white shirt, his slicked back white hair and his big white fake toothy smile.

He stood to shake my hand, “So nice to see you again, Ben. I think the last time I saw you was at Frankie’s funeral. How long has it been?”

“Seven years, I guess.”

My older brother’s car blew up when he turned the key. The New Yorkers made a graphic statement out of him.

“How can I help you?” Christo asked, “Please have a seat,” he guestured towards one of the two leather chairs facing his desk.

“So, here’s the situation, Christo,” I started as we both settled into our seats. He watched me intently with his lawyerly ‘trust me’ smile. “Our main distribution guy, Mallory, he’s Irish… or more correctly, was Irish, is dead.”


“He was in Turkey trying to set up a viable distribution line or two for Afghani product, now that Damascus is ruined.”

“Rough part of the world these days.”

“No kidding.”

“Who got him?”

“A fucking bee! He went into anaphalactic shock and they couldn’t revive him.”

“Okay, so what does that have to do with why you’re here?”

“He owed me two point seven million dollars!”

“So, you had a business loss.”

“Yeah, I get that, Christo; the problem is I in turn owe basically the same amount to a bunch of Colombian thugs who really, really want to be paid for their coke.”

“And you can’t cover it?”

“No!” I had to take a deep breath. “If you recall, me and my dad took a 4.36 million dollar hit last year when an airline was diverted to Athens. I’m close to being broke at this point. I had to put a mortgage on the house; we’re not made of fucking money.”

“So, what do you want from me?”

“Advice, Christo, I need advice. My father insisted I don’t do anything until I talk to you, first.”

“And how are they? Healthy and happy, I hope.”

“Yeah, they’re fine, but they’re getting on. They’re taking off for Naples next week.”

“That’s great. Okay, how can I help you?”

“Before Mallory died, he handed me an IOU of sorts, he did it before when he was short, and I could cover it. It’s a painting. A Vermeer, worth a lot.”

“So, sell the painting and pay the Colombians.”

“Not so simple. The painting is hot. And I can’t cover it.”

“Hot as in stolen?”


He leaned back in his chair, lifted his hands up almost in prayer and tapped his fingertips together. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘he did it before’?”

“The middle east is fucked up. Mallory was my guy, in and out. Colombian coke into Turkey, Saudi Arabia and other gulf states, Afghani heroin out. We had a great thing happening. He was hit hard a couple of times, himself, because of the Syrian troubles, and was basically getting along by the skin of his teeth. He had to rely on his two sons as couriers.”

“How old was he?”

“Maybe fifty. Nevertheless, to answer your question. Mallory transfered a painting from his Isle of Man safety deposit box to my Isle of Man safety deposit box, at the same bank.”


“He then paid off the debt a couple of weeks later, it was just cash flow shit, and I transfered the painting back to him. It didn’t really matter then, I had the funds to cover him.”

Christo gazed at me. “But not this time?”

“No. And that’s the problem. I’m stuck with a Vermeer. And a debt.”

“What do you think it’s worth?”

“Five mil.”

“What makes you think that?”

“That’s the reward money.”


“The Vermeer was stolen from a gallery in Boston, twenty or thirty years ago. It’s called The Concert. The gallery wants it back. The reward money is five mil. My understanding is that’s it’s not reward money, per se, but money for infomation leading to the recovery…”

“One and the same,” Üçyol travesti he said while tapping his fingertips.

“I just need to get in touch with the gallery and make a deal.”

Christo’s eyes were wide open. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Five mil according to Mallory at least…” Fuuuck!” I really only had his word.

Christo leaned further back as he sighed. That lawyerly look was definately gone. He clasped his hands together and with deliberate precision asked, “And what deal do you propose to do with that painting?”

I looked him straight in the eyes, “Sell it back to the gallery. Collect the money and then save my life… basically by paying back the Colombians, who have this thing for stuffing the body into the victim’s trunk. It can’t help with the resale value of the vehicle.”

Christo was stone faced but nodded slightly as he took it in.

“Here’s my basic problem,” I continued, “I know the cops are going to be involved.”

He kept nodding up and down.

“Christo, as you well know, we’re in the drug running and money laundering business, not in the deal with the cops for a stolen painting business. The two don’t go hand in hand. I need help. Your help.”

“Can I ask a question?”


“And I can assure you of confidentiality…”

“Of course.”

“Where did you get the painting?”

“From Mallory.” What the fuck did he think? That I’m making all this up?

“And where did he get it from?”

“I’ve no idea,” I lied.

Christo simply gazed at me.

“I need you to guide me into exchanging the stolen painting for cash. Pure and simple. And from my perspective, it is really simple. My life and the lives of my daugthers and my wife and my parents are on the line.”

He stared at me.

“Christo, I don’t even know where to start.”

He blinked twice as his fake smile roard back up,

“Can you give me a week?” he asked, “I need to talk to some people and think this through.”

Great, I’d just relay that to the Colombians.


“Hey, Marcie, I’m home.”

“What? Do you expect me to come running into your arms?” She snarled at me from under her newly re-done bleached blonde hair. She did look good except for the permafrost on her face.

“What a pleasant reception, Marcie.” How about, ‘how was your flight,’ or how about, ‘how’s your mum and dad’?”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh boy,” I sighed, “where are the girls?”

“As if you fucking care?”

I shook my head as I climbed up the stairs to my bedroom.

“You need to put money into the account,” she yelled from the bottom of the stair.

“You need to get a job,” I said back, probably too loud.

What used to be a marriage was now a farce. She wouldn’t even cook dinner for me anymore. There was not even a false pretense that we were still a couple. Of course, the girls weren’t there; she knew what time my flight was getting in. She was doing everything she could to alienate me from the girls and to hurt me. School was over for the day; the girls should or could, have been at home.

She had stated to me clearly on many occasions that she wanted the house, with the mortgage paid for by me, ten thousand a month and she was good with the year-old, fully loaded minivan. A hundred and twenty grand a year, oh, and have me out of the house? Permanently? It was pretty well the only conversation we had anymore.

Thankfully, it hadn’t got to lawyers yet. If and when it ever did, she would be in a little bit of a pickle. She wouldn’t be going to Christo, that’s for sure. She’d have to find a lawyer of her own. “And what exactly does your husband do?” There’s an unwritten code that even Marcie wouldn’t be too stupid or too brazen to break.

When we picked up that endless conversation, or negotiation, lately, her new opening line had been, “You promised two years ago that you were going to put in a pool.”

Yeah, that was before Athens.

If it wasn’t for the girls, I really wouldn’t bother coming home. She was such a spiteful fucking cunt. And she’s the one that started cheating on me, while we were engaged to marry, as it turned out.

Bottom line, and it took me years to realize, just like my mother warned me: she was only interested in money and herself and that was it. The girls were a tool for her to achieve that end.

I’d have been happy to take the girls. I’d sell the house and give her a whack of cash for her to just go away. Up until that point, she’s wasn’t buying that, At least not then. Maybe I just hadn’t made her the right cash offer. She saw me as a gravy train. The two girls were simply the tickets to get on board.

Cash offer? What was I thinking? I was two and a half million in dire debt.


A week later I was back in Christo’s office.

“Sit down, Ben,” he said. I did.

“It’s not impossible. But it’s not easy.”

That was good news, I guessed.

“Here’s what you’re going to have to do.”

I shuffled in my seat.

“The Isabella Stewart Gardner Alanya Travesti Museum in Boston holds title to the painting. The FBI and the local District Attorney’s office have been handling all inquiries and following all the leads pertaining to the theft, for the last… ppfft… twenty eight years? Normally, you’d just have to deal with them. The fact that the painting is in the Isle of Man can kind of work in your favour.”

“Oh? How so?”

“The FBI and DA’s office will be off their home turf.”

“How so?”

“The painting is in the Isle of Man, part of the UK. We share the same Queen, remember?”

Smarmy bastard.

“I think that it’s fairly justifiable that you approach the UK authorities on this matter. The last thing you want to do is start moving the painting around, especially after everyone’s been notified that a potential seller has just come forward. You will have to be very careful. As soon as you announce you have the painting, no matter how careful you are, the possibility exists that they will be on to you and that you will be tailed.”

“So, who do we deal with?”

“I don’t know how it will play out, the FBI and the DA will still be involved, no doubt and maybe to a great degree. But if you, or the lead to the Vermeer, turn up in London, it may be the Metropolitan police at New Scotland Yard or the local Manx constabulary that will be in charge of the recovery. I’d stick with Scotland Yard and just keep the Isle of Man people out of it.”

I took a deep breath.

“Either way, a couple things will need to happen. Number one, you will need a local emissary working as a middle man between the Gardner Museum and you. Their elected middlemen so far are the FBI and the DA’s office. No matter what happens, you have to deal with them. But as I said, you should stay off their home turf. You’ve got to understand, cops are only going to want to deal with other cops. Two, you will have to provide proof that the painting is in your possession and that it’s still in reasonable condition. Once they have that, only then will they get serious. Three, they will need to verify that in fact it is the stolen Vermeer, and not a forgery. For that, they will want an expert to examine the painting and then to… number four, formally accept the painting. Only then will payment be released.”

I took another deep breath.

“Naturally, the difficult part is running away with the money. And of course, the FBI, the DA’s office, Scotland Yard’s Fine Art and Antiquities Department, or whatever the hell they call themselves, Interpol and who knows who else will NOT want you to get away with that.”

“What do you recommend?”

“Ben, I’m a lawyer. I don’t have an answer for you. You need to talk to someone in the money laundering business.” He was smiling his big toothy grin.

“But this I can tell you or recommend to you. Get your plan in place and act quickly. They are bureaucratic agencies and will be inherently slow. Also, don’t leave any DNA trace and don’t subject yourself to video surveillance.”

This was not pretty.

“It’s going to come down to trust,” Christo continued. “In the end, the other side will have to have faith in your middle man to deliver, and you will have to have faith in that person, too. But understand everyone will have their own motivations. The Museum wants their painting back plus they want to catch the perps who did it. Your painting is just one of, I think, thirteen or fourteen items that were stolen that day. Do you have access to the other stolen items?”

“No, not at all.”

“Okay. But understand this… they will still want the other items back and once they see the Vermeer turning up, they are naturally going to assume that the other items will start to make their way back home, too.”

I shuffled in my seat, “But that has nothing to do with me.”

He smiled his toothy grin, “They aren’t going to burn their bridges on this one painting if in doing so the possibility of recovering the other items is lost. The carrot is the other twelve or thirteen items; the stick is having to buy this one back cleanly, even if you don’t have access to the other stolen items. You follow?”

“Yeah,” I sighed.

“But don’t try to overplay that. Make them come to fully realize that themselves.”


“Ben, you have your motive and the cops and the DA have theirs, too. But let’s not lose sight of the fact that you will be approaching them.”

I sighed again shifting in the chair across from Christo.

“Find a lawyer in London, or better yet just outside of London, someone young and inexperienced, someone naive.”

“What! You want me to find a lawyer in London that is stupid?” I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Uncomfortably, I shifted in my chair.

“No, not stupid, just naïve, and just outside of London, I would recommend.”


“Fewer cameras.”

“Why naïve?”

“Ben, you don’t want them thinking too much. You want them to do exactly as you tell them, nothing Konyaaltı travesti less and certainly nothing more.”

I sighed audibly. This was not a pretty situation.

“Why can’t you be the middle man?”

Christo leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingertips together, “I thought about it and I’ve concluded it’s not a good idea.”

“Why not, I know we can trust you.”

“It’s not that. Number one, we have a history together, and we’re a Canadian firm. No, you got to find someone local. We can’t even navigate the London Underground. Ben; it’s simply not our jurisdiction. They’ll find you through me, for sure.”

I sighed, “Okay.”

He continued, “You will have to approach this lawyer, solicitor they’re called there, anonymously and suggest that you have a Vermeer to sell. Be specific. Now the first thing that lawyer will need to do is contact the authorities in the UK, I suggest Scotland Yard, the Art and Antiquities Department or whatever it’s called, and that lawyer will need to obtain immunity from prosecution for handling stolen goods. That should be fairly straight forward. My understanding is that it’s happened there before. Only then does that person, through whatever intermediaries, including Scotland Yard, approach the Gardner Museum with an offer for ‘information leading to recovery’.” He used air quotes.

I think I was staring blankly.

“Ben. You’ve got to do this yourself. You can’t add layers of protective insulation. You’ve got to get it done just right.”

“How do I find the right middle man?”

“Try Google.”

I must have looked incredulous.

“If it were me, Ben,” he said grinning with big white, fake teeth,” I’d find a woman. A young one.”

“What? Why?”

“Because, aside from the very first meeting, I’d want to see bare skin to verify that that person isn’t wearing a wire. I wouldn’t allow any of their potentially doctored clothing to be on them and certainly no purses or briefcases nearby. You know that the cops will be pressuring them.”

The lech. But he was absolutely right.

“Trust but verify. It’s what Ronald Reagan said, right?”

“As long as any meetings between you and the…female lawyer are on your terms, where you control all of the elements, everything should be okay. Plus, let’s look at her motivation in this regard. One, the money will be great, for which she will have to submit a proposal to the Gardner Museum and they will have to draw up a contract with her. You’re not paying her. They are. You’ll be anonymous the whole time.”

“How much should they pay her?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled his big toothy grin, “let her pick a number she’s comfortable with. If the Museum thinks it’s too much, it’ll be her issue to sort out.”

“Sounds fair enough,” I said.

Christo continued, “The second motivation for her will be the prestige, the fun. When it’s done, she’ll be all over the tabloids as the individual who returned the Vermeer. Her career will be launched.”

I smiled at the beauty of the whole thing.

He leaned forward and pressed his index finger into the air, “Just don’t let her fulfill fantasy number three,” he said, drawing me back to reality. “No matter what the client confidentiality rules are over there, you don’t want her helping the authorities bring the perps in. They will be pressuring her, for sure.”

I was staring straight ahead.

“And please be aware, Ben, that the reward money for the entire stolen collection is five million US, but it appears it’s been fixed at that amount for many years. You get to set the price. I think the five mil, plus middle man expenses, will be reasonable. Really, it’s the premium piece missing. If you ask for more, they’ll probably have to go back to the board of trustees, who knows. It’ll take time. And from what you’ve told me, time is not on your side.

“No, it certainly is not.”

“It may be that the middle man fees have to come out of the five million, if that’s all they’ve got.”

“You may be right, Christo.”

“And just hint the fiction to them that if this transaction is successfully completed, the other stolen pieces may be offered for return.”

“And, Ben, please be aware. The Isle of Man is probably also your Achilles heel. Every time you go to and from that island, you’re on camera in a relatively small sample. Keep that to an absolute minimum. Keep electronic communication on prepaid cell phones. Don’t talk, if you can avoid it. Text.”


“Because people can overhear you or her talking. Don’t share any electronic files, images and stuff.”

“Why not?”

“Images and other files have meta data built in that tells God only knows what about the origins of the file. I’m no expert in any of that, except to warn you to stay clear the fuck away from all of it. Use paper with no fingerprints or any other DNA attached. Don’t be emailing anybody anything.”

“Hmm… okay.”

“And one last thing. You will be asking for five million, your middle man will be asking for the balance of their fee at the same time, that is, when the painting gets returned. Don’t put yourself in a position where your middle man can run off with the painting or the reward money.”

“Hmm… good point. How will I know that the middle man isn’t cooperating with the cops?”

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The Visitor Next Door

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Big Tits


“Well.” I thought to myself, “Let’s see what Jennie is up to this Saturday afternoon in June.”

I stood by the upstairs window that overlooked our neighbor’s backyard pool. Jennie Carson was my obession since we moved in here a couple of years ago. The next door neighbors’ college-age daughter who came home each summer to bum by their pool as soon as the weather turned warm. I managed to see her more than several times sunbathing in a thong bikini while her parents worked at the hardware store they ran in town.

“Jeezus.” I said to myself as I spied her on the chaise lounge completely nude this time. No bikini top or bottom for Jennie, I thought lasciviously, as I watched her reclining face down on the chaise. “What a great ass!” I thought as my hand went instinctively to my growing hard-on inside my chinos. I marveled at the sight below my vantage point.

Jennie’s lean, athletic body was breathtaking. Her long brown hair spilled atop her shoulder blades as she reclined. Her back was a soft curve that flared at her hips, flattened by her prostrate position on the chaise and exposed her soft, tight bubble butt. Below the confluence of her naked ass and pair of lean thighs, her legs stretched long and lithe as the former high school athlete she had been, ending in cute ankles and soft, upturned bare soles, with long toes pointed straight over the end of the lounge.

Thank heavens that my wife and my own teen daughter were out shopping on this gloriously warm Saturday. I could wank here in peace and quiet as I looked at Jennie’s ass in full view.

As I started to unbuckle my belt, unbutton, and unzip my pants, Jennie seemed to awake from a daytime doze and began to roll over. “Even better!” I screamed in my own head. “Let’s see that pussy.” I thought as I fumbled for my cock in my boxers.

I got a firm grip on my cock as the beauty next door slowly rolled over.

“What the fuck!?” I said out loud into our empty house.

It wasn’t Jennie on the chaise. It was a dude. I mean a young man. He tousled his long brown hair as he settled himself to sunbathe on his back. His soft cock dangled across his right thigh. He opened his legs a few inches and I saw his scrotum sitting like peaches between his thighs.

I was surprised at his likeness to Jennie, the object of my obsession for these two years. He had the same body type as the next door neighbors’ daughter, right down to her long brown hair, thin waist, and long legs. And her ass. I should say HIS ass. Yeah, I thought that to myself as I continued watching this young guy stretch out nude on the chaise below my vantage point. He had a girl’s ass.

As I continued watching, though my hard-on had gone soft, Jennie herself appeared walking from their sliding glass doors from the kitchen with a tall glass of ice-water for the newcomer. She laughed and said something that I imagined had something to do with his nudity. She handed him the glass and bent down to kiss his forehead between the long brown strands that framed his face. Jennie looked as good as always in gym shorts and a small top but she retreated quickly back to the house and I was left looking down on this…this guy laying naked on her chaise.

I heard our driveway door open and my wife and daughter entered laughing about something. “Jack? Are you upstairs?” My wife Paula called.

“Yeah.” I yelled down as I darted to the bathroom to pull up my pants and tuck my softened cock back where it should be on a Saturday afternoon. I ran some water and splashed and dried my face. I made sure I looked OK, then went downstairs.

Paula and my daughter, Erika, were still laughing about some shared joke as they arranged their shopping bags on the kitchen counter.

“We’re going to make some lunch. You want something?” Paula asked, looking at me strangely. “You look a little red, Jack. Are you feeling alright?” She asked as she bent into the ‘fridge.

“Oh, yeah, I was out in the backyard and it’s too warm for this time of year.” I lied.

I looked at Erika, our daughter, and said a silent thanks that she wasn’t as hot as Jennie next door. I don’t know if I could handle having a smoking hot daughter in my own house. Erika was pretty and she was smart but she wasn’t anything like Jennie. “What did you girls buy today?” I asked in what I hoped was a normal tone of voice after my upstairs voyeur surprise.

“Dad! Check it out.” Erika said dipping into one of the bags on the kitchen counter. She pulled out a tiny dress with red and white colors. “It’s perfect for my sweet sixteen!” She screeched.

“Oh, great.” I thought. Now Erika is going to start wearing tight, tiny dresses. “Hey, nice.” I lied again.

“You should have seen her, Jack, she looked stunning.” Paula said over her shoulder as she assembled our lunch on the far end of the counter.

“I bet you did, E.” I said, hoping to sound enthusiastic.

“I’ll try it on and model it.” Erika said and ran off upstairs.

“Be back in time for lunch.” Bornova travesti Paula yelled at our retreating daughter.

“Isn’t that a little skimpy?” I asked my wife.

“What? No, that’s what girls wear now. Don’t fret.” Paula answered.

Paula had the lunch spread out and called upstairs. “Erika! Lunch!”

I heard her bounding down the stairs and she was in the doorway of the kitchen. “Hey, I’m here.” She yelled to get our attention.

Erika struck a pose in the short dress and she looked magnificent. She had quickly applied some makeup and she looked like someone else. She looked like Jennie next door. I had never before compared her to another girl, yet here she was with her own long brown hair fluffed in the same style as Jennie. Erika’s body was less developed at fifteen but it was a close match to the beauty next door. “Oh, dear, Jeezus, what is happening today?” I wondered to myself.

Paula said, “Erika, get some iced tea, if you want something to drink.”

Erika went to the ‘fridge and bent inside to retrieve the pitcher. Before she turned around, I had a good look at her ass bent over in the new tight dress. “I shouldn’t.” I said to myself and quickly turned my head to smile at Paula and grab the sandwich makings.

“Mom, I love this dress!” Erika shrieked as she sipped her iced tea and reached for the tomato slices.

“I’m glad you like it. It looks great on you. Don’t you think so, Jack?” Paula asked me.

“Erika, it’s very nice but it is awfully short and tight.” I said with a wag of my head.

“Da-a-a-d.” She whined.

Paula laughed. “She’s growing up, Jack. She’s a young woman now.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I answered ruefully.

“Oh, pish-tosh.” Erika said, using a phrase she must have picked up from some old movie.

I made my sandwich and didn’t look up again.

Paula made a tomato slice and lettuce sandwich. She’s always watching her weight and she’s a good-looking 38 year old woman. Her daughter – my daughter – was now beginning to show the signs of becoming a stunner too. Erika simply ate tomato slices and nibbled at a single piece of rye bread. We ate in silence and I think Paula and Erika had picked up on my absence of mind.

“Hey, Mom?” Erika asked with a reluctant beseeching-ness in her voice. “Can we go out again and buy some shoes? I need something new to go with this dress. Can we?” She asked.

Paula chuckled, looked over at Erika and said, “Sure, I’ll take you to Cloverleaf.”

“Can I wear my dress?” Erika piped up quickly.

“No.” I said with authority. “You’re not wearing that to the mall.”

“Oh, Daddy, I need shoes, see?” She propped one bare foot up on the countertop and wiggled her toes at me.

I took a deep breath. Her bare feet and soles reminded me of Jennie’s bare feet that I was just looking at earlier. I mean the young man’s feet who looked like Jennie. “Damn, this is getting too weird.” I thought to myself.

“Go and buy all the shoes you want but you’re not wearing that dress.” I said with what I hoped would be finality.

“Deal.” Erika said and giggled at her partial victory. With that, she hopped off the kitchen stool and tore back upstairs to change.

“Jack, don’t be a downer. She’s so excited.” Paula said.

“She’s never dressed like that before. It…alarms me.” I said with caution in my voice.

“She’s a good girl and she’s beautiful. Don’t be one of those Dads.” Paula said as she cleared the lunch and dropped plates in the sink. “I’ll watch out for her. We’ll be out for awhile, if that’s OK.” She said.

“Yep, OK.” I said in a defeated voice. “Try not to break the bank, OK?”

Erika reappeared in her normal weekend summer togs and flip flops and she and Paula went back out to the car.

Once they were gone and the car disappeared around the corner of our street, I raced back upstairs to see what was going on at the pool next door. The young man was still lying on his back with his soft but surprisingly long penis draped over his thigh. He appeared to be sleeping. I studied the anonymous visitor. I envied his long, youthful cock and the tight young body he displayed without embarrassment as he dozed naked in sight of me and the other near neighbors. He had a lean but soft face with high cheekbones and pouty lips. His long hair seemed perfectly natural for the rest of his body, even if it seemed somewhat effeminate. “Did I ever look that good when I was his age (which I figured was close to Jennie’s, somewhere between 19 and very early 20’s)? Probably not.” I thought despondently.

Suddenly, he seemed to awake and moved his cock from the right thigh to the left. Then reclined his head again and shut his eyes. I felt my own middle-aged cock stir when he rearranged his tool. “Holy mother. I’m getting turned on.” I thought, more subconsciously than consciously but the realization was apparent, as I started to get wood looking at the naked guy below me. I undid my belt and trousers as I had done earlier.

I Buca travesti trained my eyes over every inch of the dude’s body, from long hair and pretty face, to his thin, toned torso, to the gorgeous (yes, gorgeous) cock splayed over his thigh, to the long sinewy legs and, yes, delicate, feet. Suddenly, I spied Jennie skipping out from the glass doors of the Carson house. She was now in her swimsuit, a skimpy bikini top and skimpier bottom that I knew from experience was a thong. She leaned over the guy and I had a perfect view of her full, young woman’s bosom, as she bent down to kiss him on the mouth.

The dude shook himself awake as Jennie giggled over him. Then she placed a towel on the wooden deck and got on her knees at the midsection of the reclining guy. In an expert and flawless motion, she scooped the dude’s cock up and immediately sucked it into her mouth. Despite his length, she managed to go deep so that she was fully throating the guy.

“Motherfucker.” I softly mouthed the word aloud from my own private lookout perch.

Jennie began to slowly blow the guy, always going deep when she pushed her head down. The dude seemed totally nonchalant about this awesome act and simply rubbed one of her bare shoulders as Jennie bobbed up and down, focused on giving head.

I had my cock in my hand now and stroking for all I was worth.

Jennie turned her face up to the dude and said something and giggled. Then she went back down on him. After several more deepthroats, the guy seemed to finally come alive and tousled her hair as she buried her face over that long cock and stayed low for awhile. She retreated maybe halfway back up his pole then he tapped her head twice. Jennie went down and stayed there as the dude raised his ass from the chaise and I saw him shiver. He was coming as she stayed glued deep on his cock.

“Holy, fuck!” I cried into the silence of our upstairs hallway as I felt myself beginning to come.

I watched Jennie closely and I could see her cheeks puff out and suck, puff out and suck, as she took the guy’s load deep into her mouth. Finally, she pulled off the guy’s cock where it stood at attention of its own accord as she threw her head backward and I saw her gulp the last of his jizz down her throat. She fell back on top of his thigh and laughed with shaking shoulders.

“Fuckin’-A.” I whispered to myself as I cupped the meager amounts of my own cum that I had caught in my free hand.

I watched a few more minutes. “Maybe she’ll fuck him.” I thought.

But then the dude got up and Jennie ran with bouncing thong-ass to the glass doors before him as they disappeared into the house. “Damnit.” I breathed to myself, certain that Jennie was going to get plowed with that long cock and I would not be able to watch.

I washed up in the bathroom, then went back to the window where I had jerked off to make sure no incriminating sperm had flown or dropped on the surroundings. Satisfied that I had left no evidence, I sauntered downstairs and out to the backyard. I walked to the far end of our yard and turned around, keeping a trained eye on the Carson house hoping I could spy some glimpse of Jennie and her visitor through an open window. No luck. It was almost a relief as I began to feel shame at my voyeurism and the idea I jerked off to the sight of another guy’s cock even before Jennie had given the most amazing blowjob I had ever witnessed outside of a porn video.

I moped back into the house, took a whizz to relieve my aching balls and bladder, and settled on the couch to watch a baseball game on the TV. I kept thinking about the dude, then Jennie, then the dude, then Jennie’s awesome blowjob on the dude. It was like a continuous loop in my head that I couldn’t shake. “Who is that guy?” I wondered. I found myself touching my soft cock in my trousers as I remembered the sight of him laying naked, cock exposed, on the Carson’s chaise lounge. It was almost enough to crowd out the thought of Jennie in her thong giving head to him. I must have dozed off with these thoughts in my tired and frustrated head.


The sound of the door opening with the soft chimes of our alarm system dinging brought me back to the world again. “Daddy! I’m home!” Erika’s voice cried as I heard her clunking in from the driveway entrance through the laundry room. I heard Paula’s step, closing the door behind them.

I stirred up from the couch, leaning back in a wiped-out seated posture in the deep sofa cushions. I looked up at the side entrance of the family room. Erika was standing there smiling from ear to ear. She started to do a little dance as I shook the cobwebs from my sleepy head. Paula appeared standing behind Erika.

“Don’t be mad, Jack.” Paula said sternly.

I sat bolt upright as I saw my daughter clearly now. She was wearing another skintight and very short dress in brilliant white. She threw a leg out and shook it. She had on a pair of sky-high, white platform sandals. She ran into Konak travesti the family room and preened for me, throwing one leg back and up so I could see her new shoes.

“Daddy, they are divine. Thank you so much!” She cried and then ran towards me on the couch where she planted a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Erika.” I said, still head-groggy but with a growing alarm at what she was wearing.

“Jack, before you say anything…” Paula started.

“What are you WEARING?!” I cried to my wife and daughter, looking at one, then the other.

“Oh, Daddy.” Erika said simply as she continued her sexy circuit around the family room.

“Jack, she looks very nice. I know it’s…different. But this is what girls wear today.” Paula said in a measured voice.

“I’m smokin’ hot!” Erika shrieked as she strutted around the room.

“No, you’re not, young lady!” I said loudly.

“Erika, go upstairs and try on your other dress to see if the shoes go with it.” Paula said to our daughter.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in a flash.” Erika said and bolted to the stairs.

After she was safely out of earshot, I said, “Paula, she’s wearing stripper shoes. And that dress is almost see-through. What were you thinking?” I said dejectedly.

Paula sat on the couch with a thud. “Jack, you have no idea what it’s like with girls today.”

“Yes, I do.” I said, thinking of Jennie next door, giving head to a strange, albeit virile and beautiful, visitor.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is for a smart girl in a school with a bunch of bimbos?” Paula asked flatly.

“So you want to turn her into a bimbo?” I asked astounded, and looked at my wife.

“Jack…” She started.

“Return the shoes and the dress, Paula. She’s not wearing that anywhere, even at home.” I said.

“Well,” Paula started. “She wore the dress and shoes out of the store so there is no returning them.”

“And you let her?” I asked incredulously.

“Jack. She needs this. I know. As a woman. She needs to feel good about her body.” Paula said softly.

“Paula, I could see her nipples.” I whispered, remembering how they protruded through the stretched-thin white spandex material.

Paula looked down at her lap. “Sometimes…” She said.

“Paula, do you want her to show her tits and wear stripper heels on her sixteenth birthday?” I asked, still whispering.

“We have a couple weeks for her to get over it. I can get her back to normal in time for the party.” Paula said unconvincingly.

Before we could continue any further, Erika came bounding down the stairs in her original red and white mini-dress and now a new pair of platform shoes that may have been even more rakishly high than the white ones she bounced in with.

“Mom and Dad. Thank you for all this.” She said proudly, as she posed for us like some girl in a hiphop video.

Erika was now wearing dark red lipgloss and darker makeup than her first appearance. When she hit a pose that stuck her ass out in the tight red and white dress, her feet propped on a pair of scarlet platform sandals, I went weak. “Fuck. She’s a piece of ass.” Which is what I would have said about any woman who looked like Erika did at that moment. I tried to erase that thought from my head.

I got up from the couch and walked upstairs.

“Daddy?” Erika asked expectantly as I took the stairs.

I heard Paula comfort my daughter and tell her, “It’s OK, Daddy is tired.”

Before I went to our bedroom, I took a quick peek out the window above the Carson’s patio. It was empty. “So much the better.” I thought to myself. The image of my daughter’s nipples, ass, and long legs in stripper heels now haunted my thoughts to join Jennie and the dude next door in my erotic thoughts.

Later, after I napped again and cooled down, I spent time with Paula and Erika, who had thankfully changed into her nighttime attire of sweatpants and tee shirt and we had an early dinner and watched a movie on the cable channel. My head was still swimming with the images of Jennie, the dude next door, and my own daughter’s sexy attire on this surprising day.

I decided to turn in early and hoped it would all be over when I awoke. Instead, Paula came upstairs early herself and began undressing quietly while I laid in bed pretending to be asleep. Paula stripped off her daytime attire and let herself naked into the bed next to me. She rustled about for a bit and turned towards me. “Jack.” She whispered. “I know you’re not asleep.” She said as she laid her hand on my stomach beneath the sheet.

I tried to feign sleep but Paula knew me too well. “Jack, let’s talk about it.” She said quietly.

“What?” I said in a fake dreamy, sleepy voice.

“Erika.” Paula said simply,

“What about Erika?” I asked, still faking sleepiness.

“She looked sexy today, didn’t she?” My wife asked in a whisper.

“No.” I lied to her.

“Jack, c’mon,” She said as she lowered her hand beneath the sheet to touch my manhood atop my boxer shorts.

“I don’t want her to look like…a strumpet.” I said feeling old-fashioned as Paula rubbed my cock,

“Jack, as a guy, you have to admit she looked pretty sexy today in her new dresses and shoes.” Paula said as she nestled into my chest and rubbed my cock in the boxers.

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

The TV Star

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


Author’s note: This is my first offering and it doesn’t have much sex. So if your bag is all about hot sex throughout you might want to pass this. I am working on several more that may have enough to satisfy. I do appreciate constructive critique but if you just want to berate the new guy, well then GFY.

I’d like to give a shout out to kr4zymonkey97 who has helped me get this piece ready.



Wife: Clair a beautiful Cable TV Personality co hosting a local cable show

Husband: Mark — very successful engineer and businessman in electronics

Clair’s co-host: Debby Lydel

A character’s thoughts are in italics … Quote marks for speech


Clair is ambitious and wants to up her status in the television world especially her national standing. Currently she is a co-star along with Debby Lydel of a woman’s talk show on local cable TV. An idea had entered her devious head on how to make this happen.

Ironically this idea was spawned during a discussion with her husband Mark during breakfast one morning. Mark was trying to make a point with her that he was unsatisfied with their sex life. He said that over the last many years while he continued to service her in all her favorite ways she had become withdrawn and was not showing any interest in his satisfaction. She countered that he was full of shit and further challenged him to provide a single example. He recounted that before they were even married she had always made his birthday special by waking him with a cup of coffee on a tray with a tasty pastry in bed while she peeled back the sheets and took his already throbbing cock in her mouth and took him to heaven. Over the last few years the pastry, then tray had disappeared. Coffee was now placed on the night stand, then that too was gone but most significantly the BJ morphed from best ever to his being not allowed to finish in her mouth to more of a hand job, to a hand job that she didn’t even finish — making him cum by his own hand. Last year she was down stairs getting ready to leave as he came having not realized she had cut and run totally unconcerned with his satisfaction or birthday. This year she had already split before he was completely awake — No BJ, No HJ, no sexy words to assist his own manipulations — nothing, not even a Happy Birthday. Her actions reeked of being deliberate.

Clair responded to this dramatic and heartfelt observation by 1st claiming that a big deal was happening down at the station that morning and she was called in early. A later check of her phone on the sly indicated that no such call was made from anyone that morning, so BS to that answer. Her phone did show a lot of contact with a Bill Baker, but he was a producer or something at the station so nothing there. Next she ignored his observations and instead of addressing the crux of his comments she made one point and one point alone.

She proclaimed “I do not have to give blowjobs if I do not want to and I don’t want to.” In fact a big smile appeared on her face because she believed she had hit on the angle she was looking for to increase her popularity with women especially feminist types. She mused out loud “On a future show I should work in that remark that I don’t give BJs and get Debby to say something like: “what does your husband think about that?” then I would respond that he has no say in the matter.”

Hearing this stuns Mark and he thinks she didn’t even acknowledge my concerns and totally blew off all I said and to take the proverbial cake she has come up with an idea to totally emasculate me on her TV show for the purpose of furthering her career. For the moment Mark shelved the lessor points and faced the immediate crisis.

He took a deep breath and restated what he thought he had heard: “Are you saying that you are going to humiliate me in front of your TV audience, your friends, my friends, God and everybody?”

Her answer was to confirm that she intended to make a point of saying that she, as a modern female and would not be intimidated into doing something that she didn’t want to do and that all men better wise up to the new paradigm. Shit she was already into sales pitch mode.

Mark said “don’t I get a say in this? What you are suggesting affects me also.” Her response was “NO, you don’t get a vote” to which he readily responded “NO, HELL NO! You can’t do that to me”

Then she replied “Darling, (with a sarcastic tone) I’m telling you, not asking you.” He tried a less aggressive appeal “baby, please don’t do this, you may start something that will get out of hand and we won’t be able to fix the damage.” Clair said “better get used to the new me – one that is not bossed around by any man.” Suddenly a side thought crashed in Mark’s head: Any man? Is there someone else to be denied a BJ? ANY MAN?

So the discussion ended with her saying “YES” sternly and him saying “NO” just as emphatically. Something was wrong Esat travesti here, Clair was avoiding direct discussion regarding their sex life and she was having trouble looking Mark in the eyes as though she were guilty of something. Plus her outrageous plan, as if she were deliberately provoking him, trying to push him into a fight.

At work that day Mark wonders if he may have a bigger problem than he had first thought, there may more going on with Clair and he had better get out in front of this quickly. It’s a big advantage being the boss at work. Mark called Sharon his personal assistant into his office and had her take over for the day. She would see to the day’s business in his place including the instruction that no one was to know he wasn’t at work, especially not his wife. He trusted Sharon explicitly and knew she’d take care of his business and have his back without explanation. First stop, Mr. Conners who is the company attorney and had protected this business since Mark’s grandfather started it. Mark knew Mr. Conners would know where and how to start looking into his suspicions concerning Clair. After hearing the story Conners said he knew the best lawyer for this circumstance and made a call and had an appointment set. Mark was to go immediately to the office of R.D. Fowler Attorney at Law.

Within two hours Mark was seated in Mr. Fowler’s office explaining that something radical had been changing with his wife. Something was up. Cheating maybe, but no known facts supported that, just a gut feeling that was welling up inside him. Mr. Fowler said now was the time to get on this and resolve it one way or another, it may be nothing at all. He had an associate, a PI who was good at the job and would be given info so he could begin a thorough investigation. Mr. Fowler also said that a copy of Mark’s pre-nup (Clair’s agent had insisted on one thinking it would be her that would be worth millions) had arrived from Conners’ office and he recommended moving as much the joint assets into accounts only in Mark’s name without alerting Clair. This was probably not that difficult as Clair tended to get all wrapped up in her career and paid little attention to anything else especially since she was likely going to be obsessing on her plan to up her status.

So beginning the next day Mark began to transfer joint assets to a new account in his name and close all joint credit cards. Only now did it seem odd that Clair had recently started to use a credit card all her own. Mark had not previously paid attention to that change, but now? Did she not want him to see her transactions? Why? Mark had a brief thought: Am I over reacting here? I don’t KNOW anything except she’s ready to trade my dignity for her own fame. I need to call her. A phone call went to voice mail and he left a message once again asking her to not go through with her plan. He also sent a text, same message. She texted back “be late tonight – just extra work at the station, nothing for you to be concerned about.”

The next day Clair is up and gone for the station without hardly a word and ignores Mark’s attempts to begin a dialogue. Mark struggles through work all day and then home for dinner but no one’s at home, Clair’s working late again he guessed or perhaps she stopped at the Eden Pub with “the girls” but he wouldn’t have to check on that as he had mentioned to the PI about the E Pub and some others she might go to with friends. He was tired so he took a shower and thought he’d wait for her in bed. Mark turned on the TV, which naturally was tuned to the channel that carried Clair’s show and at a commercial break from the TV show playing it was advertised that Clair would have a special show tomorrow, so it seemed certain her plan was a go. Mark tried to wait up for her, but fell asleep.

The next morning there was evidence that she had been home but had already gone so that killed his last chance at a face to face plea not to go through with the no BJ proclamation so he once again called and texted his plea, no unanswer. In a few hours the TV show that she was a co-host would be on and their life would be changed forever, not likely for it to be a good change. Mark felt he might as well go to work.

It was hard concentrating on anything but he did get some work done with Sharon’s help during which he briefed her on the reasons for his recent behavior. The hour for the wife’s show arrived and he couldn’t continue working so he turned on the TV in his office. The usual talk of politics and make-up were being discussed when Clair’s co-host introduced a new topic: “oral sex and women”. Of course the audience lapped it up (ha, ha) and it was obvious to Mark that it was the set up for what Clair was itching to say. The co-host was kind of playing devil’s advocate by saying she believed a lot of women didn’t really mind doing it for a man they really cared for when Clair jumped in and said “Nothing goes Kızılay travesti into my mouth that I don’t want and I won’t allow that thing in there!” A gasp fell across the audience with cat calls, whistling and lots of LOL. Her co-host Debby recovered and said “but your husband” and Clair cut her off and said “It’s my mouth and he doesn’t get a say — just ask him, he’s absurdly honest.” Mark heard another gasp but this one was from Sharon who had walked into the office just then. She began apologizing profusely for walking in but Mark waved her off saying “forget it”.

Sharon walked over behind Mark and placed her hand on his shoulder and softly said “I’m so sorry, if you need to talk …” Mark thanked her for her concern and said “I may need your help soon” and she replied “just let me know what and when boss.”

Mark left for home knowing that Clair would be at least 3 hours of post production meetings before leaving the station plus the 90 minute drive. This allowed him plenty of time to get enough of his things together and move out, at least for a while to get himself together.

On the way home his cell began to light up with an unbelievable amount of texts from people with access to his cell number. Some from good friends expressed sympathy but most weren’t kind, berating his manhood and implying the likely location of his balls was a recurring theme.

In the state of mind he was in it didn’t take long to pack and get out. The office would do for now as it had a back room with a full bath and a bed which years ago was very handy as he worked late on his industrial electrical control board designs. Before leaving he remembered a couple of DVD’s he and Clair had made back in their adventurous days, since they were very explicit they might come in handy in what he now perceived as imminent divorce proceedings. He thought: That self-centered bitch must have forgot about these — I’ll bet she shits when she remembers and can’t find them! Take them, might be good leverage.

Clair arrived home at a normal time and wondered why Mark wasn’t there, although she was mainly itching to rub his nose in how successful her stunt had been. Her show was lighting up the phone lines at the station and the clip of Clair’s moment had gone viral. She was elated. She called and texted but no answer, this was not like Mark — he always responded. Oh well, her ridicule would have to wait, a shower and a night out to celebrate certainly was deserved she thought.

Sharon found Mark in the office the next morning and said there was a call for him, it was Mr. Fowler his attorney he said “I have seen the show and the PI had submitted an early report, it’s not good. Better get over to my office now, we have things to do.”

Mark informed Sharon where he was going and why, he trusted her and had many times over the years mused that he should have married Sharon instead of Clair.

In Mr. Fowler’s office they got right to it, Mark said “I can’t believe she did that to me, I don’t know if I can forgive her.” Fowler responded “It’s worse than that, much worse. Here’s the PI’s initial report” and he slid the folder to Mark. Mark did a quick review of the report and was visibly shaken, Clair was indeed having at least one affair. The guy from the station, that Bill Baker guy that was on her phone had fucked her several times since the PI started watching her. Who knows how many times or how many men over the years? It didn’t matter a bit though, once or twice with Baker or a thousand men, divorce was the only choice. “Is this all?” Mark asked.

Mr. Fowler had a lap top but held on to it as Mark started to reach for it. Fowler reluctantly responded “No this computer has pics & video” then continued “There’s some really bad shit in there, maybe you otta just take my word for it.”

Mark replied “If it’s as horrendous as I’m guessing then I NEED to see it, burn it into my mind so I will be incapable of going easy on Clair.” Fowler got up, spun the lap top around for Mark and left the room to give a deeply hurt man privacy to face what he needed to face. The first part of the recording were single pictures of Clair and a Baker meeting at one of the clubs that the PI was tipped off to. The pics showed what can only be described as a couple out for an evening’s fun at a bar where there was drinking and dancing, which the couple was enjoying to the fullest. According to some audio clips played next the two decided to move on before somebody recognizes her. A note by the PI in the presentation stated that Clair was exceptionally easy to track because “everybody remembered her”, knew when she arrived and left and with who.

They didn’t go far, just a little motel with cottages. Here the video started, the couple was kissing with a passion like they wouldn’t get anymore sex for 10 years. Cloths were flying everywhere, the playful giggling, the obvious fact that this was not their Alsancak travesti first time, a least a dozen times before was more like it. Mark’s soul was taking a hit because that slut, his wife was now naked and on her knees was devouring the guy’s cock as if trying to win a gold metal. Mark couldn’t help having a replay in his head of her proclamation on TV then thought: Yeah, she don’t suck no cock — look at her, what a whore. Next Baker lays back on the bed and she mounts him like a cowgirl rodeo star and Mark can see it all as the their choice of this old cottage allowed the PI to get really close in to capture good camera shots, even the sound was coming through. She began this bronco busting secession by dangling her tits in the guy’s face, then while squirming all over his abdomen and chest wiping her scent all over him she slides down to where his cock makes contact with her cunt. She reaches behind her and grabs his cock, which Mark realizes is not any bigger than his own and thought: So she’s not doing it for his dick size – a minor win but Mark needed something to restore a little pride. Now with her lover’s cock in her hand she starts rubbing it up and down her slit, then momentarily touches it to her asshole. He bucks up to try and hasten entry and Mark’s previous win is destroyed as his ego takes a big hit. She had never allowed him her back door.

Just as her lover thinks he’s home she says “Not right now big boy — I have to be able to maneuver tonight, last time you did that I couldn’t walk normal all day.” Baker said “OK baby but Friday night after we’ve been in New York signing your new contracts that ass is mine.” Clair said “You can plow me good after making my dreams of getting in the big time come true, besides I think I like it as much as you do.” At that moment she could wait no longer and impaled herself in one motion, squealing and bouncing through an almost immediate orgasm. Her enthusiasm pushed Baker to the edge, just before his release she pulled off him and put his cock in her mouth to take in her reward. Mark was actually beginning to feel ill but he forced himself to take in the finale of Baker’s cum being pumped into his wife’s mouth with her making a valiant effort to swallow it all. What cum did escape her mouth she quickly licked up and smiled. He had seen enough. Mark called Fowler back into the room and said “Launch our plan “B” — the nuclear option: divorce, sue the TV station, sue Baker, if he’s married — wreck it, upload it to the internet — I want her and him to hurt!”

Mark went back to the office to brief Sharon on what was to come. A call came in from the TV station and Mark wasn’t going to take it thinking it was Clair, but Sharon said it wasn’t Clair — it was her co-host Debby Lydel.

Mark said “well Debby what the hell do you want?” She responded that she wanted him to be on her show and give his perspective on Clair’s provocative announcement.”

Mark said “No, I don’t want to see Clair” but Debby responded “Clair won’t be allowed to be there, management anticipated that would be trouble but your side of the story would be terrific TV.” Mark told them he’d call back and called Sharon in for advise.

When he asked Sharon what she thought she said “Well Clair really tried to make a fool of you and with the evidence you’ve described to me I think you can turn the tables on her.” The two of them put their heads together and developed a plan, then called the station back and Mark agreed to appear tomorrow afternoon.

Clair found out about the scheduled show and worried Mark might say something that would derail her plans. She texted him asking him to cancel, he texted “NO!” Next she went ballistic calling and texting Mark now threatening him and by the next day was pleading with him not to do it. He finally texted her back “Pretty ironic ‘eh — now your begging me not say something on “your show!”

Well show time arrived at the TV station and Mark was at the studio’s engineer’s station talking and seemed to be giving him something. Debby, Clair’s co-host started things off with a brief review of what was said by Clair and playing the video clip of her proclamation. Mark could have done without that replay.

Debby then asked for his reaction, He said “You should have a warning light come on that said BUCKLE UP, TURBULANCE AHEAD.”

Mark began “First I want to express my extreme displeasure with a spouse that would speak so publicly about such a private thing between a man and his wife. Unforgivable. Next, those of you that think so highly of her should know that the whole BJ story was invented two weeks ago when she got an idea of how to increase her popularity. She reasoned that by calling out men, specifically targeting me for authenticity, that her career would jump in value perhaps enough to become a national personality. To this point she’s been largely successful since the video went viral I’ll bet her name is being tossed about at the network level for moving up the ladder.”

Debby then interjected: “Well Mark you almost have to support her plan even if it didn’t play well for you, don’t you?”

Mark replied “No, not at all since her entire pony show is a lie.”

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The Trip Home

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A few days had passed since my first night with Lee. He did talk to his brother, and no luck, No way was I getting my threesome.

I decided I would hold out on hubby, no more women in the room till I got my way!! If I could last that long. I did enjoy having pussy too.

But once again what hubby didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. I had my best friend to rely on. All I had to do was pick up the phone, and I had her to help with my cravings.

By this time Lee and I had our own code words for when he would come over to the house. Usually had something pertaining to moving furniture or helping clean out the attic. I’m sure by this time my mother in law thought I had the cleanest house in the tri-state area.

I woke up on a Monday morning horny as hell, and wanting a dick so bad it hurt. Hubby was not in the mood, and said he wanted to go to his parents house for the day. I tried to hide my excitement. My mind was in overdrive. Would Lee be out there? Or is he out with his friends? Does he want me again? So on and so forth.

I had a hard time concentrating on the road. Hubby would ask me what was wrong every 3 seconds. He was starting to annoy the shit outta me. I would just tell him nothing, and turn the radio up.

Finally we arrived and there in the drive way, with no shirt, leaned over the old Ford truck was Lee. My heart skipped a beat. Oh my God he looked good. He was sweaty from the hot and humid day. He had a little smear of grease on his check, and I had to control myself to keep from reaching up and wiping it off.

Lee looked up from the innards of the truck, and just waved. Hubby, the kids, and I went into the house. I couldn’t sit still, I wanted to go out there and talk to him. I’m sure no one would have thought anything of it, but by now, of course, I was paranoid.

My mother in law, Helen, was in her sewing room, making one of her umpteen million quilts. We were never cold. She looked up from her work, and said she needed me to run some errands for her since the truck was broke down, and her daughter had the car.

I just sighed. It takes forever to get anywhere. They live in the West Virginia hills, and the nearest town is 30 miles away. Osmanbey travesti I told her I would, and she left to get her list.

On the way out the door I asked everyone if they needed something from town. Lee looked up and said “yeah I need to go to the parts store. Can you remember what I need?”

He rattled off a bunch of stuff, like fly wheels, and clutch assemblies. The blank look on my face said it all. “Never mind, give me a minute to clean up and get a shirt.” With that Lee was back in the house. I sat in my car and waited, smoking a cigarette.

FINALLY he came out and got in the car. We drove for about 15 minutes not saying a word just singing along to the Doobie Brothers CD. When we did talk it was about small stuff.

We got to town, picked up the stuff from WalMart, then headed to the parts store. I decided to sit and wait on Lee while he got what ever in hell it is he needed. As I sat there a plan was forming in my head.

We are not too far from my house, and no one will miss us for at least another hour or so. And even then they wouldn’t think of anything of it if we took a little while longer. I could come up with some pretty good excuses. After all I am 19, and it wasn’t too long ago I would bull shit my parents.

Lee scared me as he opened the door. I must have jumped pretty good, because he asked who shot me. I Just smiled at him.

“I was thinking” I said.

“’bout what?” Lee replied.

“Just about the other night is all.” He turned his head to look out the window, and I knew he was smiling.

I made the turn to go towards my house, and I heard Lee protest. “Why are we going there?”

“Because I’m hot and horny and have been waiting for this ALL day”

“I have a better idea. Just keep going towards Mom’s”

We drove for a while then Lee told me to turn off onto a dirt road. It was muddy and rutty, and I gave him a look. He told me it would be OK and to keep going. We came to a dead end about a mile out. We got out of the car and looked over the hill side. There was my in law’s house at the bottom of the valley. It look nice from up there. You could see the neat rows of the vegetable garden, Ayrancı travesti and the little flower beds on the lawn. There were my children having the time of their lives on the swing set, and hubby in the lawn chair looking over them.

I felt Lee take my hand, and we walked back to the car. He opened the trunk, and took out a box. In the box was a quilt, and a cooler of beer. The kind I drink too.

He spread out the quilt and we sat down with our beers. I think I got one drink of mine when I looked over at Lee, and he got a wicked look in his eyes.

We started to make out right there with in hearing distance of his whole family. I didn’t care it felt so good. He reached under my tee shirt and unhooked my bra like a pro. He lifted my shirt to my neck and began pinching and rubbing my nipples. Oh God that was good. When he took one in his mouth I thought I was going to have an orgasm right then and there.

He slipped his other hand up the leg of my cut offs. He lifted his mouth from my tit long enough to comment about how wet I was.

I could see the bulge in the front of his jeans, and I reached to caress it. That’s all it took. In a flash we had our clothes off and in a 69. I sucked on his cock and licked his balls in a frenzy. He in turn was giving me a good tongue lashing on my clit. He told me to stop or I was going to get a mouth full of jizz. I stopped giving him his blowjob, but he continued the assault on my achingly wet pussy. He put his tongue in my hole and thumbed my clotty rhythmically. I felt my orgasm start, I was clawing at his back trying my hardest not to scream, less everyone in the hollow hear me.

After I came all over his face, he got up and kneeled between my legs. I thought he was going to fuck me now, but he had other ideas. He start to play with my clit again. Then put 2 fingers in my snatch. He knew how to use his hands, that’s for damn sure.

“I just love to play with your pussy. I love the way you keep it shaved. I just love everything about it. I could make you cum for hours.”

All The response I could give him was my hips lunging towards his hand trying to get more of his fingers deeper Cebeci travesti inside of me.

Once again I came. This time like I have never had before. I saw stars in my head. He kissed me to keep my scream from escaping my lips.

He then put his hard thick cock in me. He didn’t take his time, he fucked me with long hard strokes. He just kept getting harder and faster, and I felt another orgasm coming on. I clawed at his back, his legs, his shoulders, anything to keep him going. I felt the muscles in his legs tighten up, and his face was getting red. I started to squeeze my pussy around his shaft. I was so close, and I could tell he was too. I grabbed his hips helping him pump me, then I felt it, I exploded and bit his shoulder. He just yelled “ooooooohhhh fuuuuuuccckkk” and I felt his cock twitch inside of me. He pulled out and shot his cum all over my stomach and tits. I used my hand to milk all I could out of him.

He collapsed next to me. I just laid there on my back, afraid to move. If this was a dream I didn’t want it to end. I felt his seed drying on me in the sun light.

After 5 more minutes we got up, he looked in the back seat of my car and found a box of diaper wipes. We used them to clean ourselves up as best as we could. We got dressed, folded the quilt, and gathered up the forgotten beer. As we got in the car I saw Lee lift up his shirt sleeve. There was a big red welt on top of his shoulder where I bit him.

“Damn woman, remind me next time to just let you scream and get us discovered.”

I started the car, smiled my best smile, and headed to the house.

At the bottom of the road, Lee leaned over in the seat, and rubbed my thigh. He kept getting higher and higher, till his hand was up the leg of my shorts and stroking my clit. I don’t know how I kept the car on the road. When we reached the beginning of my in law’s drive way I was in the throws of another orgasm. Lee was using one hand to steer the car, as he stroked my clitty with the other. I creamed my pants, and I felt it start to trickle down the crack of my ass. God how was I going to explain this?

Luckily as we pulled up everyone was in the backyard, I went in the front door undetected. I put on another pair of shorts and tee shirt, and tossed the others in the washer.

I went outside, where the family was gathered, and roasted weenies on the bon fire… but there was another kind of weenie on my mind, and I couldn’t wait to have it again.

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The Touch

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She noticed the warmth of the room as he kissed her bare shoulder. The goose flesh that appeared on her naked skin was not due to coldness. The bumps were the result of her want, desire and lust that attempted to escape its epidural confines.

“He has done everything for my comfort,” she thinks as she presses her hand to the side of his face.

She wanted more kisses.

She wanted more teasing bites.

She wanted his lips sucking and pulling at her flesh.

She wanted him.

The room was quiet. No sounds other than his deep and steady breathing, her shallow gasps, the small “pop” sounds his lips made as he pulled away from her skin and the guttural moans of satisfaction they made as they became lost in pleasure.

Her breathing accelerated slightly as he led her to the bed.

She wanted him.

She needed him

The wetness she felt trail down her inner thigh was proof that she was ready for him to take whatever he wanted from her. She felt a slight adrenaline surge when she realized she was willing to give him more of herself than he would even ask. Once her head rested on the bed, he reached up and gently touched her eyelids. She obediently closed them as a new wave of bumps surfed across her skin.

They had played with blindfolds, ropes, clamps and toys before. A little kink was always fun. A little bondage, a few spankings or keeping the orgasm out of reach for a little bit longer was fun Çankaya travesti games they played.

But, this was new. This was trust, total trust.

He was trusting her to keep her eyes closed.

He was trusting her to accept his admiration.

He was trusting her to feel his desire for her.

She laid on the bed, naked, excited, wet, wanting, needing, desiring and trusting.

The touch began on the side of her face.

A gentle stroke down her jaw line.

Was he using his finger?

A feather?

His breath?

She could not determine the sensation, other than it was a light caress that felt as a heavy weight of desire on her soul. She trembled as her body reacted. Her sex was wet and flowing. She knew it excited him when she became this wet. She knew his animalistic desire could erupt at any time and he would take her.

She waited.

She eagerly waiting for that animal. Yet, it remained caged.

He was in total control and she was blissfully the prey walking back and forth in front of his confines.

His touch remained gentle and slow. It was as if he were tasting her flesh through his finger. Savoring each stroke as it would glide over her lips, down her nose, tracing her ear and across her neck.

Her back involuntarily arched as he traced the outside of each breast. She wanted to feel the firm grip of his strong hands cupping her exposed mounds. She wanted Dikmen travesti to feel the pinch and pull as each nipple were compressed and stretched between his finger and thumb.

The lightness of his touch did not waver.

She knew her nipples were firm and hard. She knew her aerolas were puckered and waiting to be sucked into his hot and wet lips.

But, he was in total control.

His finger followed every curve of her body. She had no feelings of shame or self consciousness with him. He had told her repeatedly that he loved and wanted her body. Every curve, every scar and every part. She believed him and she gave him what he wanted. She gave herself.

She knew he was teasing her when he drug his finger down her tummy, circled her belly button, ran it along the top of her pubic hair then down the top of her leg.

Her slight pelvic thrusts were more than hinting that she was ready for his finger to explore her wetness. He knew how to read her slightest body movements and give her what she wanted without her saying a word. There were times she did not realize she wanted was he was giving her until the orgasm surprisingly surfaced and threw her into a world of erotic bliss.

When he ran is finger down the top of her leg and across the top of her foot, she knew he was teasing.

She opened her legs for him as her attempt to lure him into giving her more than a touch.

He was a Eryaman travesti master.

His touch travelled up her other leg and outlined her pubic hair once again.

She was trimmed and had what he lovingly called a landing strip. Oh how she wanted him to land on her at this time.

His finger started at the bed and he allowed it to be enveloped by her as lifted it upwards.

The circling of her clit then rubbing it on the right side caused her to grip the bed with her hands as the orgasm shook her. They had masturbated for each other many times. She loved seeing how her body and movements caused him to stroke harder and faster. She yearned for the moment when his moan was followed by the hot spray of cum erupting from him and landing on her.

She did not know that he was studying her each time they played in front of one another. He studied her so that when he touched her, he knew what she liked. He would know how to touch her so she would be pleased.

He never disappointed.

She lifted her legs and opened them wide. His finger slid in, curled and reached her “yummy spot”. He had named her g-spot the “yummy spot” because of her deluge of lust that escaped her when it was stimulated.

Her moans and cries filled the stillness of the room as he pleasured her. His groans and moans of pleasing accompanied to form a duet of ecstasy.

Her feet rested on the bed as he withdrew his finger and positioned his body between her legs.

He leaned down and kissed her lips.

“Open your eyes love.”

She obeyed

He saw the smile form on her face as his head entered her wet lips.

She saw the animal appear in his eyes as she dug her fingers into his back.

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The Test

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Norman and I are workmates, we have worked together in the same frozen food factory for about six years and we get on well. But work is where it ends because we’re such different people. For one thing he’s around fifteen years older than me and he’s the couch potato type that likes to watch a football game and have a few beers, while I’m more likely to be playing than watching or alternatively eating up the miles on my Harley. So we never socialise. I’d never visited his home nor he mine, in fact we’ve never even so much as shared a drink together. So I was very surprised when he cornered me in a quiet storeroom with a proposition and I was even more surprised when he explained what the proposition was. He wanted me to try and seduce his wife.

My first reaction was to stare at him in shocked silence, but then I managed to get myself together enough to ask the obvious question.


He flapped his hands and dithered as if he didn’t know how to say it, but eventually he told me. ‘Well, Jodie’s younger than me and I wonder sometimes if she needs someone with a bit more energy than I’ve got.’ He stopped for a moment and looked to see if I’d understood. ‘I’m stuck in this godforsaken hole most of the time while she’s at home knowing exactly where I am and exactly when I’m likely to be back. If I’m not enough for her I want to be sure I know what’s going on.’

‘Why, do you think she would cheat?’

‘You mean cheat as in go to bed with someone behind my back? No, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t, but it would be good to be certain.’

What else would ‘cheat’ mean? ‘So you want me to what… test things out?’

‘Pretty much.’ He nodded. ‘Yes, test her.’

What he wanted wasn’t impossible, our shift patterns don’t always match so the opportunity could easily be managed, but I could see problems. ‘First, how do you reckon I can get to do that? And second, what if she says yes?’

‘I’ve been thinking about the how. I reckon I can find something that’s broken and needs an easy fix, and you could be the repairman.’ He paused. ‘And as for the second, I would hope you would handle that appropriately.’

I would come to remember that phrase later, but at the time I guessed that handling it appropriately meant acting like a gentleman and making my excuses. I figured I should be able to do that with no problem, but the more difficult problem is that I’m no engineer; I have trouble repairing a fuse.

‘But I’m not any sort of handyman, Norman, let alone a repair man.’

‘That’s all right. If I push a pin right through the television cable near the plug it will kill the picture, all you have to do is pull the pin out again and you’re a repairman.’

‘You really have been thinking about this, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’ He answered simply.

‘So why pick me?’

‘Well, because I know you and I think I can trust you not to talk about it. I also know Jodie’s never met you, but I think you’re her type and you’re not bad looking. So it all comes together.’

I appreciated the not bad looking part, but that prompted me to wonder what she looked like. I had no idea what his taste in women was like, but for a much younger woman to marry someone like Norman she’d have to be a bit desperate. But if I was only going to test her loyalty and then back out, it didn’t really matter. Anyway, I thought it over for a day or so and then gave him my answer – and that’s why I found myself walking down their drive a couple of days later carrying a tool box and trying to look efficient.

Jodie turned out to be a stunner, and I was suitably stunned. I’d been expecting a plain Jane, but this girl oozed sex appeal. She was about my age and so good-looking that I almost wanted to try it on with her for real. It wasn’t that she has film star looks or figure, in fact she’s mousy brown and just a little bit skinny, but she’s tall, she has a catlike grace and the tomboyish self-assurance that really appeals to me. She obviously doesn’t care what people think of her, they have to take her as she is, dressed in an old white blouse and faded blue skirt, and I liked that. Her smile was open and welcoming and she ushered me into their lounge without any hesitation.

‘You’re Nick, aren’t you?’ She asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

I nodded, looking around for the television.

‘Well I’m sure Norman told you what’s wrong, so I’ll let you get started.’

Getting started was almost the same as getting finished, I could see the damn pin stuck though the cable as soon as I knelt down, but I had to make it look at least a little bit more difficult than that because I had to be there long enough to make a play for Jodie, and so I disconnected the cable and began to take off the back off of the set.

She made my mission a little easier for me by coming and sitting on the sofa opposite, her long legs folded beneath her and the sides of her skirt slightly parted to show a little thigh, just enough so that I found it hard to concentrate on what I was Şişli travesti doing. Fortunately she didn’t notice, but after a few minutes she adjusted her position so that I could now see right up to the little triangle of pink panties. Now I really couldn’t look at what I was doing and eventually she spotted that I’d stopped work and raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry.’ I told her, taking advantage to make the first move in my make-believe seduction. ‘It’s just that you have beautiful legs.’

‘Why, thank you.’ She said with a smile, making no attempt to move them. ‘Are you always so cheeky to your customers?’

‘Only the ones with beautiful legs.’ I smiled back.

‘I don’t think they’re anything special, a bit thin really.’ She frowned and ran her hands along her skirt as if to smooth it down but only succeeding in making the view slightly easier.

‘From what I can see, I think they’re very special.’ I was laying it on thick, but that was what I was supposed to do. In any case they were worth looking at, long and lithe to my mind rather than thin.

She stood up still frowning and for a moment I thought she was about to get angry. ‘And from what I can see.’ She began. ‘We won’t get the television repaired at all if you’re going to spend all your time trying to look at my legs, so I’d better show you them properly.’ With that she pulled her skirt up and stood showing me her very shapely legs from her ankles to nearly the top of her thighs. ‘Well, what do you think?’

My first thought was that Norman was a lucky man, but then my second thought was that perhaps he was right to be worried about her straying if she would show her legs off to a stranger that easily. Then my third thought was, so let’s see if she will cheat – it might be my lucky day.

‘I still think they’re beautiful.’ I finally answered her question. ‘And the more I see the more I think so.’ I was seeing quite a lot from where I was kneeling only a few feet away, another hint of pink panties for one thing.

‘Well, thank you again kind sir.’ She gave a little bow and a quick smile, letting go of her skirt so that the material fell back into place and spoiled my view.

I think I must have let both my surprise and my subsequent disappointment show, because she laughed a little tinkling laugh and turned for the door. ‘I’ll get out of your way and let you get on. Would you like a coffee?’

I mentally shook my head and brought myself back from fantasy land. A coffee could provide me with an excuse to stay a little longer after I’d finished. ‘Yes please. Milk but no sugar, thanks.’

She disappeared into the kitchen and I returned to my make-believe task. The first thing I did was to pull the pin out of the cable before she could see me doing it, smiling a little at a couple more holes in the cable where Norman had presumably tried to push the pin through without success. At least now the set was now ‘repaired’ to all intents and purposes and all I had to do was fiddle around a little to make things look good, but not take so long that I had no time left to try it on with Jodie.

Coffee came through in the shape of two mugs that Jodie set on a small coffee table before she stood beside me and watched me quietly ‘working’. I loosened a couple of screws and then carefully tightened them again as if making an adjustment, disconnected a spade connector, fiddled with it for a couple of minutes before pushing it back into place and then, when I couldn’t think of anything else I could do that wouldn’t do any damage but might remotely resemble repairing a television, I replaced the back and plugged in the cable again.

‘I’ve finished.’ I looked up. ‘It should be all working again. Do you want to try it?’

I switched on the power to the set and waited while she stood beside me and pointed the remote control at it. A few seconds and a picture of some guy describing a typically miserable weather forecast filled the screen. She flicked through a few channels and found them all working and then smiled down at me.

‘Clever you.’ She announced happily. ‘What do I owe you?’

What a question, what an opening, and yet like an idiot I answered without thinking. ‘It’s all right, Norman’s already paid me.’

‘Oh, that’s good; I don’t think I’ve got enough cash in the house anyway.’

I wondered briefly how she had intended paying me. It looked to me that Norman’s concern was not without foundation. But then maybe should I take advantage of that and swear blind to him that he had no need to worry. God, I was tempted.

‘What are you thinking?’ She interrupted my thought process as I stared into space roughly in her direction.

‘Huh? Oh, sorry.’ I thought quickly, trying to regain the initiative I’d thrown away only moments before. I pretended embarrassment. ‘To be honest.’ I told her, deliberately hesitantly. ‘I was looking at your legs again. They look so smooth.’

‘If they’re looking good is probably because I shaved them only Taksim travesti this morning.’

I couldn’t help but wonder what else she shaved that morning, but I didn’t like to ask, that would be pushing things too far too quickly.

‘They do look nice and smooth.’ I repeated awkwardly.

‘They are.’ She smiled, making no attempt to back away.

I was pretty sure there was an invitation hidden in that and Norman had wanted me to test things to see how far she would go, though by then I was thinking of further than he was, so I risked all and reached out to run the back of my hand along a little of her thigh. Not too high, just above the knee, but enough I thought to see how the land lay. ‘They are, aren’t they?’ I grinned up at her.

‘Now you’re being really cheeky.’ She cocked an eyebrow at me and smiled.

‘But you don’t mind, do you?’ I asked her, turning my hand over so that I was stroking her leg with my palm.

There was a long pause while I kept stroking her leg and then she looked down and smiled enigmatically. It seemed as if she’d had to make a decision. I could make a pretty good guess what that decision was, and by making it she’d unknowingly made me decide too. I would push things all the way; after all I could always swear blind to Norman that she’d knocked me back, I mean, she wouldn’t be telling him any different, now would she? I let my hand wander just a little further up her thigh.

‘Hey, take it easy.’ She stepped back and for a moment I thought I’d got it all wrong. ‘You’ve got a coffee there waiting to be drunk.’

The signs were confusing to put it mildly. Thoughts flitted through my head as I sat down and picked up the coffee. Was she available or wasn’t she, or was she just a compulsive flirt. I told myself that I owed it to Norman to find out, but really I was thinking of myself because if it turned out that I’d let the chance with this extremely attractive woman go begging I’d never forgive myself.

I sipped my coffee and thought about how best to push things along. It couldn’t be a full on physical approach, that had already been rejected. I looked across and saw her drinking her own coffee, her eyes gazing at me over her cup as if weighing something up. I figured I’d have to pick my way slowly, but I was pretty sure it was there.

‘Do you feel safe, letting strange men into your home when you’re on your own?’ I asked, just to get things going.

‘There’s strange, and then there’s strange.’ She replied with a smile. ‘And you’re not that strange.’

I wasn’t sure what to make of that, so I let it lay and took another drink of coffee while she abruptly turned the tables on me.

‘What about you? Do you feel safe being on your own in strange houses?’

‘I’ve not had any problems yet.’ I answered, which was perfectly true seeing as I don’t normally go to strange houses.

‘You mean you haven’t had any women coming on to you?’

‘Not yet.’ It was my turn to smile.

‘What would you do if one did?’

‘It depends if they have beautiful legs or not.’ Now it was my turn to flirt.

‘Oh, so if they have good legs you’d let them seduce you, but not if they hadn’t?’ She cocked her head on one side and raised that one sexy eyebrow again.

‘Yes, that about sums it up.’ My heart was beginning to hammer. I’d not got it wrong after all. I promised myself that Norman was not going to hear about anything that happened from now on.

‘And you said I have beautiful legs.’


‘So would you like me to seduce you?’

Jesus! She wasn’t holding back, was she? There was absolutely no mistaking her intentions this time. The directness was unexpected and a little scary, but I answered truthfully. ‘Yes’

She stood up and held out her hand. ‘Come on then, let’s go upstairs.’

This was it, the final moment of truth. Should I tactfully decline as Norman would want me to and then tell him that ‘Sorry Norman, Jodie has just failed the loyalty test’, or should I say nothing and take what was being so delightfully offered? Now what do you think?

I took her hand and stood up. ‘Are – are you sure about this?’ I asked, stuttering slightly from sudden nerves.

‘Can you be discreet?’ She countered.


‘Then I’m sure about it.’ She smiled and squeezed my hand. ‘I just don’t want the whole world to know about it.’

‘They won’t, I can promise you.’ Neither would Norman as far as I was concerned. I didn’t like to do it to him, but Jodie was just too damn sexy to pass up.

‘Good, come on then.’ She began pulling me gently towards the stairs. ‘But please take your shoes off before you go upstairs.’

Just a touch of housepride and I had no trouble with that. I quickly pulled them off, socks too, and left them side by side in the hall. I couldn’t help but think that if Norman came home now and saw them there was no way I was talk my way out of anything. She smiled her thanks and headed for the stairs.

I followed like a lamb, Gümüşsuyu travesti watching a very attractive rear view as she led the way upstairs. I wondered vaguely if she would take me to her marital bed or a spare bedroom. It was a spare bedroom as far as I could tell, and I’ll admit to feeling just a little more comfortable there.

‘Now.’ She said as she turned to face me. ‘Let’s see how good you are at kissing me.’

I don’t know how good she thought I was at kissing her, but she was bloody fantastic at kissing me. There was no gaping wet mouth and frantically stabbing tongue that you get from some girls, instead it was soft but firm, sensuous is probably the best word, and although our tongues did come into it they were probing and exploring rather than fighting. Beautiful kisses that made us both moan softly deep in our throats.

‘Yeah.’ She said quietly with a teasing little smile as we pulled a little way apart. ‘You’re pretty good at kissing.’

‘So are you.’ I told her, my voice gruff with emotion.

‘The let’s see what else we’re good at.’ She giggled as she spoke, and then reached forward to pull my sweatshirt clear of my jeans.

I just raised my arms and let her pull it over my head so that I stood there quietly, stripped to the waist. She stepped back as she dropped my shirt onto a chair and gazed at me, her eyes taking in my tan and the mat of hair I have on my chest. Apparently satisfied she smiled and looked at me in the eye again, almost as if she had been checking me out to see if I met some sort of criteria.

‘Are you going to let me do everything?’ She asked, pointing at the buttons of her blouse.

I can take a hint, especially that sort of hint; I had her blouse unbuttoned and joining my shirt in no time flat. I stood back, but she just stood there, arms by her side, her breasts pushing up out of the black quarter cup bra she was wearing and cocked her head on one side in that questioning mannerism of hers.

‘I’m still wearing more than you are.’ She pointed out, hinting broadly.

‘You won’t be.’ I told her, moving forward to kiss her gently on the lips while reaching around her to unclip her bra before stepping back again to see the result. She dropped her arms and shook the bra free before cupping her breasts in her palms and standing there, encouraging me to gaze openly at them. Now it was my turn to check her out.

‘Will they do?’ She asked with a grin.

‘Oh yes!’ I answered, nodding eagerly. Will they do? What a silly question, they were gorgeous. They weren’t big, little more than a handful, but they suited her slim frame and they were tipped with fabulous little pink nipples, nipples that were standing out and just waiting for attention. I moved closer and wrapped an arm around her, feeling those engorged nubbins pressing against my chest as I kissed her again. She moaned softly again, pulling back just enough for my other hand to reach between us and unfasten her skirt. A quick wriggle during a pause between our kisses and the skirt fell away, leaving her pressed against me wearing just her little pink panties.

‘I can feel something hard.’ She whispered huskily into my ear. ‘Does it want to come out to play?’

‘Oh yes.’ I said again, releasing her so that she could drop to her knees in front of me.

She had clearly undone belts before, because my jeans were being pulled down my legs just as quickly as I’d unfastened her blouse. I put my hands on her shoulders and let her pull them over my bare feet, By now my heart was beating like a trip hammer, knowing for sure that I was going to make love (I couldn’t think of it as fucking) to this beautiful woman. I knew I was letting Norman down, but he wasn’t my closest friend and I just didn’t want to resist.

She stood up and hooked her thumbs into her panties. ‘Shall we do the last step together?’ She asked.

‘That sounds good.’ I copied her stance with my thumbs in my boxers and waited while she counted down from three, our last garments going down at the same time with both of us giggling as we tried unsuccessfully to get them over our feet with at least some degree of elegance.

When we finally succeeded and we both stood there naked we each instinctively took a minute to gaze at each other, and I’m pretty sure what I was seeing was so much better than what she was looking at. I was staring at beauty. Jodie was tall, slim and athletic, with pert little breasts, a narrow waist and long, long legs, and best of all completely smooth pubes. I stood and ogled her, my gaze roaming up and down her exquisite shape before it fastened on her gorgeously shaven pussy.

‘Hey.’ She broke the silence finally. ‘You’re in pretty good shape.’

I nearly slipped up and told her it was from humping boxes about in the factory, but I managed to remember in time and settled for a truthful ‘so are you.’

‘Or at least a little bit of me, eh?’ She laughed, noting where my stare was directed.

‘No, all of you.’ I tried to justify my gaze. ‘But I love shaven ladies.’

‘Oh yes, why?’ She wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easily.

‘Well, because.’ I began, flustered. ‘Because they’re so much nicer to go down on.’ I added quickly.

‘And are you good at going down on them?’

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The Tasting

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This story contains: MF, oral, cons.


This story is copyright 1998 by Pulp Fan. Permission is given to repost it, or to put it on free websites, but please don’t alter the text. You can contact me at the address in my profile.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled story…

* * * * *

Tom didn’t particularly want to go to the wine tasting.

He didn’t particularly like wine.

Nor, in all honesty, did he particularly like the host of the event. Unfortunately, said host was also his girlfriend’s boss, which explained why he had little choice in the matter.

The invitation had been issued a few weeks before–Jenny’s boss, John, was hosting a charity wine tasting at his Lake Forest estate, and the pleasure of their company was requested. A few words from Tom to Jenny on just how pleasant John’s company was had brought him an icy rebuke and a few nights of no loving. Though that last bit wasn’t so odd these days; while their romance had begun with a great deal of fiery passion, too often lately it seemed they were just going through the motions while they drifted apart, neither knowing how to stop–nor caring enough to stop–the slow but steady ebb of their feelings for each other. Of late, most of the passion in their relationship was spent on arguing with each other, sometimes over the most trivial of matters, rather than on sex. While their screams had once been those of ecstasy, as Tom pierced Jenny body and soul, these days they were generally of a different nature.

Jenny was a vice president of marketing for a large hotel chain, of which John was president. As Jenny had complained to Tom on occasion, if you were a woman at a large corporation, you had to be twice as good to get half as far as a man, and she was determined to get to the top. John, however, had been impressed with her intelligence and perseverance and she had been on a fast track. If Tom thought, from time to time, that Jenny’s good looks didn’t hurt her any when it came to John’s interest in her professionally, he kept those thoughts to himself. He didn’t have a death wish, and there was no denying that when it came to hotel marketing, Jenny could ably strut her stuff.

Though he had nothing concrete on which to base his dislike of John, Tom was generally a good judge of character–at least when it came to men–and his opinion of John was far from flattering. He viewed the man as a user, a guy who saw his subordinates as tools–fine tools, expensive tools, tools to be taken care of, to be sure, but nonetheless, just tools, free to be discarded for other tools if the need arose. Not surprisingly, since John had taken an interest in her and more or less championed her way up the corporate ladder, Jenny took a slightly different view of him–sure, he could be tough, but business was business, and you didn’t make money or get where John had gotten–where Jenny wished to go–if you were a wimp. As Jenny had essentially told Tom from time to time while arguing with him, Tom was a bright guy, but he was just a construction worker; he didn’t really understand all the ins and outs of big business and corporate politics.

When Tom and Jenny had first started dating, she hadn’t complained about his job–or the solid physique it had given him. These days…

Tom might have been a blue collar guy, and maybe he didn’t have his finger on the pulse of the corporate world, but he did know one thing–he was stuck going to the wine tasting.

* * * * *

“Good to see you again, John,” Tom lied, as he shook the man’s hand.

“And always good to see you too, Tom,” replied John, returning the firm grasp. “Glad you could make it.”

In his early fifties, of average height with hair starting to turn gray, John hardly cut an impressive figure from purely a physical standpoint, but Tom couldn’t deny that there was some indefinable quality about the man–people noticed him; when he spoke, they listened. Sort of like that investment guy in those old commercials on television, he thought wryly to himself. John had a forceful personality and over the years, had somehow managed to cultivate it, enhance it and, strange as it sounded, practically exude it, until the aura of it cloaked him and lent him a stature difficult to ignore. As Jenny was fond of retorting whenever Tom said anything negative about her boss, Tom was just jealous that he didn’t possess the same magnetism.

Jenny was pretty magnetic herself. Though the dress code for the occasion was informal, Jenny looked stunning as always. Her brunette waves were freshly permed, cascading over her shoulders and the silk blouse she was wearing. The tight material clung to her form, highlighting the firm fullness of her breasts. A short skirt revealed tanned, muscular calves and thighs, wrapped around her taut little ass. When Jenny got dolled up like this, Tom had to admit that on that front at least, he was a lucky guy. When they weren’t fighting, Jenny had an awesome body and she knew how Halkalı travesti to use it.

Tom exchanged pleasantries for a few moments with John and the circle of hotel executives gathered around him. Jenny was in her element, schmoozing with her fellow execs. As quickly and politely as he could, Tom excused himself from the little group, as always feeling a twinge of disappointment that Jenny barely acknowledged his leaving–nor cared. However, from past experience, he could almost calculate to the minute when Ernie, the head of development, would try to impress others in the crowd with his knowledge of wine. “This one offers a fresh, slightly fruity nose, with very subtle hints of strawberry and rose petal…” If Tom heard that pretentious snob break into his wine routine one more time, he thought he might teach Ernie that noses could also be broken, swollen and bloody, not just fresh and slightly fruity. None of which would, unfortunately, be good for Jenny’s career–though it would provide Tom with some small measure of personal satisfaction.

Tom wandered over to pick up a glass of the event’s second wine selection, fluting strains of the classical music being played by the musicians set up on the lower rear balcony of the mansion providing soothing background noise. Though there were over a dozen wines set up on the outdoor bar area, carefully selected to lead the taster on a controlled journey through various of the different types of wines, Tom knew he’d never make it past the third one.

“Wonder if Jenny’d have a fit if I asked for a beer?” he wondered to himself as he walked around the grounds of John’s palatial estate. Though John made more than a decent buck at his job, he had made most of his fortune the old fashioned way–he inherited it. His father had founded the hotel chain, and while the family no longer owned the chain outright, Jenny had told Tom from time to time that John’s interest was worth in excess of one hundred million dollars. His mansion and its grounds were all one would expect from such excessive wealth. Immaculate lawns stretched seemingly forever, their expanse broken occasionally by carefully trimmed bushes and trees, by gardens featuring a dizzying array of flowers in bloom. Their scent wafted through the air as he walked towards a white gazebo, laying on the shores of a small pond on the estate.

Idly sipping his wine, Tom slumped down on the grass, back against the small structure, cutting off his view and the noise of the party. “Much better,” he thought to himself. Casting about, he unearthed a few small pebbles which be began to toss desultorily into the tranquil waters, watching the small splashes as they struck, the ripples spreading across the clear surface of the pond. Time passed in silence as he sat there, watching the waters, the trees across the way swaying slightly in the soft breeze, the birds soaring in the bright blue sky.

“Hi there,” came a voice to his side, startling Tom out of his calm reverie. Flustered, he glanced up…and saw her. Later, Tom would rail in frustration that he was never afterwards able to properly express the view that met his eyes in those first few seconds. Maybe it was the sun in the sky behind her, blinding his sight with its brilliance for just a flash, distorting his vision. Maybe it was due to his being startled, or the wine, though he hadn’t had that much to drink. Whatever the cause, he looked up and beheld a shimmering vision, a woman clad in a summer dress, face momentarily obscured, appearing for a brief instant like a sun goddess out of some ancient myth, golden rays of illumination seeming to surround her unearthly form. Mouth agape, Tom stared mesmerized, entranced by the apparition before him.

“Hello?” the woman spoke again and the illusion was shattered.

“Uh, hi,” Tom managed to stammer in greeting, struggling to his feet.

“Sorry to have startled you,” the woman laughed. “I didn’t realize you were so engrossed.”

The spell broken, Tom could see as she approached that she was no unearthly goddess but a real woman, very real and very woman. Her summer dress clung to the upper part of her body, emphasizing the lush swell of her breasts, while its hem swirled beneath her knees, playing peek-a-boo with her bare feet. Long black hair flowed in luxurious tresses, billowing over her shoulders and down her back. Clear brown eyes sparkled at him, while beneath a pert nose reposed a pair of full, red lips, upturned in a slight smile that seemed to hint of life’s exquisite mysteries.

“No problem,” Tom managed to get out without stammering. “Hey–I’ve seen you before!”

Having reached the gazebo, the woman leaned against it, idly twirling a finger around the lip of her wine glass. “Yes, though we’ve never met,” she agreed. “I saw you wander over here a few minutes ago and wondered if it was you.”

Though it was true that they’d never met, Tom _had_ seen her, many times before. Several months ago, while riding the Levent travesti train downtown to work, this woman had begun to sit across from him, on the upper level of the train. She was a knockout, and Tom had often snatched furtive glimpses of her over his book. From the way that she smiled at him occasionally when their eyes met, Tom had felt that his secret attentions had not gone unnoticed, and that more direct contact would not be unwelcome…but that was back when things with Jenny were still firing great on all cylinders. And so all he had done was stare at her from time to time–and then as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. Every day for a few weeks she had sat across from him, then one day she wasn’t there. The next day when Tom got on the train, and every day that next week, he hoped she would appear when they reached the stop where she boarded, but he never saw her again. He had wondered for awhile what had become of her, before she had slowly sunk out of his consciousness. But that was no longer the case!

“I’m Tom,” he offered, holding out his hand.

“Kim,” she replied, shaking his hand in a firm grasp. “It’s nice to finally meet you after seeing you on the train all that time.”

“Yeah,” Tom said. “I’m a little surprised you remember seeing me. I wondered what happened to you.”

“I was just in town for a few weeks. I live in L.A. I’m a consultant, and I was just in town for a little while working on a job.”

“Oh, are you back now for another job?”

“Just for a few days–some follow-up on the old one. Then it’s back to the coast. What’s your story?”

“I’m in construction,” Tom replied. “From the laborer side of things.”

“Oh. How do you know John then?” she asked with a smile. “I thought he didn’t know anyone who didn’t live in a suit and a tie.”

Tom laughed. “Yeah, not too many I suppose. No, my girlfriend is one of his minions. So here I am. How about you–where do you know John from?”

“He’s my cousin.”

Tom tried hard not to choke on his drink as he was swallowing. “His cousin?”

“Yeah…but don’t hold it against me,” Kim laughed. “I’m from the poor side of the family; unfortunately, my side decided not to go along with John’s father when he started the hotels. You win some, you lose some.”

“That’s too bad,” Tom responded. “But don’t worry–I wouldn’t hold your being related to John against you. Besides, John’s an alright guy.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” she replied, sipping her wine. “I can see it in your face when I say his name, hear it in your voice when you say it. You don’t think much of John, do you?”

“Well…uh, no, John’s OK…”

“Don’t lie to me!” Kim laughed. “That’s alright, I’ve known him all my life and there’s no question about it, John can be a bit of a prick!”

“Well, if you put it that way…” Tom laughed with her.

Leaning against the gazebo, gazing out over the water, they talked for a few more moments before Kim said, “Let’s take a walk. I’d like to stretch my legs a little.”

Wandering over the lawn, the two chatted. Tom found it very easy to open up to this vivacious, beautiful creature beside him, telling her of his boyhood in Skokie, of the various projects he had worked on, of him and Jenny. Though he didn’t express the thoughts, as Tom spoke with Kim about his girlfriend, the realization came to him that they would be over soon, that they were each too different and too unwilling to change for the other, even if they were asked. It was no one’s fault, really, it was just one of those things that didn’t work out. For her part, Kim offered no advice, just listened to him, asking questions now and then, in turn talking about her job and family. Eventually, their glasses empty, they strolled back to the party.

Tom grabbed two glasses of the next wine on the program, handed one to Kim. She swirled it in the glass for a moment like a connoisseur, inhaled, sipped and swirled it in her mouth. Swallowing, she rendered her verdict.

“It’s an audacious little wine,” she opined with mock solemnity. “It kind of jumps up and slaps you in the face!” Her pink tongue crept out and slowly licked a few drops of wine from her lips.

Tom laughed. He could think of plenty of things to do with that pretty face, but slapping was definitely not one of them!

Exchanging short pleasantries with others at the bar, Kim offered to take Tom on a tour of the mansion.

“Sure,” he replied, “though I’ve seen it before…at least parts of it.”

“Not the way I’ll show it to you!” Kim promised, her clear eyes sparkling, grabbing his arm and linking hers with it.

Sauntering towards the mansion, talking of this and that, they passed near the small cluster that had formed around John. Jenny was still there, vivaciously chatting. As they went by, Tom waved at her; she flashed him a quick smile, then went back to talking with the group. Considering that she was normally pretty jealous, Tom viewed her reaction as symptomatic Şirinevler travesti of their problems.

As they walked up the short flight of steps leading to the rear balcony, Tom said, “I’m glad you remembered me from the train, though I’m a little surprised.”

“Well, I _knew_ you would remember me,” Kim smiled. “After all, sitting where you were, you could see up my skirt!”

Tom felt an invisible hand choking his throat, reaching in and throttling him. He _had_ been able to see up her skirt on occasion on the train, but was mortified to learn that she knew he had done it. He rapidly sputtered denials which sounded lame even to his ears.

“No, it’s OK,” she laughed, as he choked out yet another sentence saying she was mistaken. “I knew about it–hell, I let you!”

Tom quickly gulped some wine in confusion. It wasn’t every day he was walking with a beautiful woman, and she admitted that not only did she know he had looked up her skirt, but that she had cooperated!

“I’m sorry,” she smiled, clearly delighting in the crimson flush suffusing his face, his stuttering attempts at speech. She squeezed his arm. “It was kind of naughty of me but, I thought, what’s the harm? It was fun–I hadn’t flashed anyone in a while! I didn’t mean to embarrass you!”

They had now entered the mansion, walking in through the open set of doors leading into the library. Casting wildly about for some way to change the topic, certain that if they stayed on this track he’d make an absolute fool of himself, Tom stabbed a finger in the direction of a portrait of a man hanging above the fireplace mantle. “Who’s that?” he managed to ask, though he already knew the answer from a prior visit.

Kim allowed herself to be sidetracked. “Ah. That would be John’s father, provider of much of what you see around you. As good a place as any, I suppose, to begin our little tour.”

Kim led him leisurely through the first floor of the mansion, pointing out various items of interest. As they walked, her arm linked in his, her hip occasionally brushed against him, sending little jolts of electricity through his body. Tom was acutely aware of her presence, of her warmth and vitality. Outside it had been overwhelmed by the aroma of the flowers; inside, Kim’s perfume, the scent of her hair, filled his senses. Tom was a little worried that the growing bulge in his pants would betray him, but if she noticed, Kim was silent.

As they passed by a bathroom, Kim turned to him. “Here, hold this,” she said, unlinking her arm and handing him her wine glass. “I have to go tinkle,” she explained, somewhat unnecessarily.

The door closing behind her, Tom walked a short way down the panelled hall and sat down on an ottoman. His feelings were a jumbled mess, though his hormones were clearly sending a unified signal. Tom had never been good at judging women–particularly ones he didn’t know well–and it was possible he was misreading Kim’s flirtation with him, but he didn’t think it was likely. He was pretty certain that if he wanted to pursue a romantic liaison with her, his advances would not be unwelcomed. If it hadn’t been for Jenny, it would have been a no-brainer. As it was, thinking of Jenny made him cringe slightly with guilt, though he hadn’t done anything yet.

And yet, even with Jenny in the picture, he was still intrigued. Kim was gorgeous, sexy and fun. “Kind of like Jenny used to be with me,” he mused bitterly. And as he was forced to admit to himself more and more these days, his relationship with Jenny was going nowhere. Their candle had burned brightly for awhile, but only a low flame remained, destined to be snuffed in the near future. If he had run into Kim a month from now, it might be that he and Jenny would have written their final verse. If he pushed it along…

His thoughts were interrupted as Kim emerged from the bathroom. He rose to his feet, met her.

“Here, I’ll make you a trade,” she said with a smile. She took her glass from his hand, and with her other hand, pressed a wadded up piece of cloth into his. Tom looked down…and did a double take. Kim had just handed him her panties!

Kim grinned mischievously, pleased at the shocked look on his face. “Would you be a doll and carry them for me?” she inquired innocently. “I decided since I was barefoot, I might as well just go that next step, but I don’t have anywhere to put them!”

“Jesus!” Tom sputtered, half to himself. He hurriedly stuffed them into a pocket of his pants, frantically looking around to see if anyone had noticed the exchange.

“Looks like you’ve got a bit of a bulge there,” Kim observed. It was true–and not just from the panties he had shoved into his pocket. She slowly licked some wine off the rim of her glass, gazing deeply into his eyes.

“I, uh…”

“Well, are you enjoying the tour?” she interrupted, clear eyes sparkling with humor…and something else.

“Uh, yeah,” Tom said, flustered. First she had admitted she flashed him, now this! Though he’d had quite a bit of experience with the fairer sex, he had never met anyone quite like Kim.

“Well then, let’s continue, shall we?” Linking her arm in his again, Kim started down the hall, half-dragging Tom with her as he struggled to sort everything out.

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The Surrogate Ch. 01

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I had known Duke since basic. We had met my first day in the Marine Corp just after our first run down from our drill instructor and seventeen hours of pure hell. We hit it off right away and became fast friends. Duke was a big guy, built like a tank just like I was and swarthy skinned, Italian I think but with a name like Duke who could know.

Anyway he did his three years and got out while I continued on and stayed active. We kept in touch and as a stroke of total coincidence he moved to the city where I got stationed. That’s where our paths diverged a bit; he met Britney and I went overseas…again. They courted while I went to Iraq and fought for our country. On leave I got to meet Brit for the first time and knew right away that she was the one for my best friend.

Tall, dark curly haired and tanned the color of KFC chicken, Brit was totally built to match. She had a tiny waist and a nice set of hips with an ass that bubbled out just enough to make you drool without being too big. She worked as a personnel trainer in the gym where Duke worked out and that’s how they met. She was smart, well spoken and love to laugh and watch football and was a dynamite cook to boot. I have to confess I was a bit jealous of how Duke had lucked out where I had only struck out with every girl I had time to take out between all my work and being active duty Marine. I hooked up with a couple of sluts and that was cool but nothing that ever suited me and unlike most happy couples, neither Duke nor Brit tried to hook me up with any of their friends.

“None of my friends are good enough for you Jon, (that’s me)” Brit had said when I asked one them about their lack of blind dates for me one night over dinner and wine. She was killing me again, wearing a tight pair of black stretch Capri’s and a halter that barely contained her rock hard 36C cup tits. Duke told me about how sensitive her nipples were once she had gotten them pierced the year before and could cum just from having someone suck on her nipples. Lucky bastard.

So, moving on, after a year of them dating and my usual life of train, lift, school repeat, I got deployed to Iraq and they got engaged. They agreed to wait till I got back until they got married, and I hoped not to get hurt or killed before I could see my two best friends walk the isle together.

Long story short, I made it back. They got married and it was a hell of a party, they introduced me to Kenni, a hot little navy chic who was a college grad and a goer in the sack and I do mean a goer. She loved it when I would bang her doggy style and, just before I came, pull out and cum on her face while she stroked my shaft, not letting me touch it at all. Needless to say Duke and I talked about all about Kenni’s little tricks and he must have told Brit because something changed between Brit and Kenni.

At first they had hit it off and seemed to do really well together, after out sexual exploits came up Brit started to be a bit more catty to Kenni. I never understood why till later and Duke never said.

As Marines are prone to do, I got deployed again, this time to Afghanistan and after about two months out of the US I found out that my little blond sex kitten Kenni was screwing some Airforce prick and had moved out of the apartment we shared. It was a long, shitty deployment and this time I was not lucky enough to get home without a scratch. In my fifth month I got blown up and my leg got stitched up with shrapnel pretty good. I went home, rehabbed and got medically discharged from the Marines. When I got back to my two best friends, I found that things had changed and all was not as it had been between them when I left. I got lucky enough to get into the apartment right next to theirs and found that their sex life was definitely not the problem.

My bedroom was just on the other side of the wall from theirs and on just my first night back from rehab, they made it known that they had a healthy sex life. The headboard of their bed slammed against the wall with a staggering speed and Brit’s wails of delight were so carnal and illiterate that I could not help but pull out my eight inch cock and stroke it. Aside from the headboard, I could hear their hips smacking together at an almost terrifying pace, a sound that was wet and loud and only made my cock harder.

“O fuck baby…fuck, imam cum. Harder, harder o shit fuck.” Brit screamed, suddenly falling silent as Duke gave her a series of devastating hard strokes and I heard her give a shriek and then a series of primal grunts as her orgasm played out. I was almost spent just from that last outburst, imagining how wet and tight Brits pussy must be, clutching around his cock as he and I both fought to make our pleasure last.

“Christ babe, I’m so sore. You gotta cum soon so I can sleep I gotta work in like three hours.” I heard Brit say as their screwing paused, and I continued to stroke my cock, slowing so I could hopefully finish at the same time they did and sleep myself before I had to get up and start my first day at my new, civilian job.

Duke said something that I could not hear and heard Brit sigh Cihangir travesti and reply, again something I could not hear. Come on guys get back to it, I thought, this is the most action I have been around since I got out of the hospital.

“Come on baby, I wanna feel you cum before I go to sleep. I’ll get on top if you want, let you play with my tits while I ride you?” Brit asked as much as stated as I heard the bed shake and jostle as Duke did the smart thing and got on his back and let his amazingly hot wife mount up.

A shuddering moan reached my ears and again I had to back off as to not cum all over myself as I heard Brit take his cock and once again the bed and headboard started to rattle and shake as she rode him hard, her pace relentless as she pushed her man on to his orgasm.

“Come on baby. Jesus you always feel so fucking big like this, come on……I’m so close baby, twist my nipples baby. O fuck.” I heard Brit scream, only just on the other side of the wall, her mouth so close.

Duke muttered something then and I knew I would not have to wait much longer and thank god, my cock was swollen and covered with slippery pre cum and my hand was like a blur as I bit my lip and let Brit’s naughty encouragement push both me and her husband over the edge.

“That’s it baby cum…cum in my pussy…o fuck I’m gonna cum to, do it now fucking cum inside me!” Brit shouted and that was all the help I needed. Cum spewed from my cock and I proceeded to make a mess of myself and my bed as I came what seemed like a gallon of jizz all over myself and heard both Brit and Duke grunting and moaning their way through their orgasms and there room finally quieted down. I heard the two of them sighing and groaning as they lay in the afterglow. I heard Duke mumble something, and Brit giggled.

“It’s not my fault if he heard us, you want me to just lay here while you do that to me?” Brit said and they laughed some more. More mumbling from Duke.

“I wish that he would go out with us and find a girl, after that slut Kenni bailed on him he needs someone, just to keep him busy while you and I are at work and stuff.” Brit said, and I felt angry at the pity I heard in her voice but only for a moment. It had been a while since I have been out with people; it was hard to adjust to an environment where people weren’t trying to kill him. It was hard to understand the way a non conflict zone worked again, let alone go out and socialize with some women who either wanted to fix him or mother him. He just wanted to fuck or just go for coffee or something simple. Mostly he just wanted the former.


We went out, he agreed but didn’t do much dancing on account of his leg but he still managed to get one of Brit’s friends from work to come back to the apartment with them for a few more drinks. She was a tiny little thing, bout five foot nothing but built. Tits somewhere out of the upper B cup and she was filling out her jeans like no one who outside of a titty bar should, she was athletically built as all of Brit’s friends were from the gym. This one’s name was Kol, short for Nicole and she had a bright smile and short blonde hair that fell just below her chin, her arms were well muscled and she had a couple of tattoos that gave her just the hint of naughty that he needed.

Brit and Kol were talking about one of their clients or some such while Duke and I sat out on the porch and smoked a cigar.

“Hope we didn’t keep you up last night, Brit’s been hot for my cock ever since we picked you up from the airport. Well hotter than normal.” Duke said and laughed as he took a drag off the cigar, his face distant.

“What’s been up with you two? Ever since I’ve been back you to are either fighting or fucking, and fighting more than humping. Something you’re not telling me, you guys having trouble or something.” I asked, seeing my friend’s face I knew something was up. It took a minute but Duke opened up his mouth to speak when the front door of the apartment opened and Kol and Brit stumbled out.

“You wanna take me home, Jon?” Kol said as she plopped down on the stairs beside me, her perfume was intoxicating to say the least, not to mention her low cut shirt was showing off the nice swell of her tits and the lower edge of a lace demi bra and when I looked back up I saw she was biting her lower lip and one of her smallish hands was working over the upper thigh of my unwounded leg, her touch alone was making my cock swell painfully against the front of my pants.

“I think my place would do you just fine.” I started, realizing I sounded like a jackass but it had been a while since I had to speak much to a girl to get her back to my place, most just wanted the cock and nothing else which was fine. Kol nodded and gave me a sultry look that had me damn near pushing right through my zipper.

“Kinda late isn’t it?”

All three of us turned and saw Brit standing behind Duke, a motherly look on her face at the surprised gazes on our faces and she blushed and tried to explain.

“Well, we both have clients in the morning and…” Brit started, her gaze Fındıkzade travesti never leaving me.

“I think Jon has an alarm clock and can keep me from being late.” Kol said as she went the extra mile and squeezed my cock, a look of lewd approval on her face and she stood without another word and took my hand tightly in hers leading me off Brit and Duke’s porch and up to my door.

It took all of three seconds once the door to my place was closed for her to reach up and wrap both her strong arms around my neck and shove her tongue in my mouth. She was urgent in her affection and the heat from her body was doing wonders for my dick, Kol was already working on my belt and zipper, her hands groping my six pack and my well sculpted pecs as her drunken hands tried to get my pants off.

Kol moaned as my hands roamed up under her shirt, scooping her hard tits from her bra and finding her nipples hard as small pebbles. Kol broke our kiss and shoved me against my door, yanking my belt open and she roughly yanked my pants down and I stepped out. The front of my boxer briefs were sticking straight out and matted with my precum.

Yanking her shirt over her head, her tits bouncing slightly as her bra half cupped their round globes as she dropped to her knees and reached into my underwear like she was reaching into the cookie jar for a tasty treat. Kol smiled and looked up at me like as my cock slid free and slapped her in the chin as it sprung free, my precum trailing over her left cheek and she quickly wiped the slick fluid up and sucked it off her fingers as she took stock of my dick, appraising it almost. I’m not going to brag but just give it to you straight; god was kind to me in the shlong department. I have just over eight inches of meat, but I was not just blessed with length but girth as well, just a bit smaller that the circumference of my wrist, the head was an angry red and leaking slick fluid all down the head and shaft.

I could only groan as Kol slid the first three inches of my cock into her mouth, slurping heavily on the first few half nosily, one hand stroking the bottom half of my shaft and cupping my balls while she jammed her other hand into her pants and began to fumble with her pussy while she worked me over good. Kol had real talent and knew just what do to make my already swollen and cock feel even better.

Pulling off my cock a mid-suck, Kol looked up at me as she stroked my whole length cupping my balls and the ribbed head of my cock, sending jolts of pleasure along my spine.

“You sure you are ok with this?” Kol asked through half lidded eyes, her other hand still fumbling with her pussy.

I nodded and she gave me one last long suck just on the crown before she stood up and took hold of my cock, leading me toward my bedroom.

By the time we got to my room I was transfixed on Kol’s ass. With her jeans undone, I could see the top of her black thong about her tan little waist and could see her fingers of her other hand were still digging deeply into her pussy and she was shaky on her feet, the pleasure making a sheen of sweat break out on her half revealed breasts and she would pause and give an open mouthed moan, barely audible but still, more than enough to keep my cock hard as iron and dripping precum so that when we got to my bedroom we would have to do very little foreplay.

Once in my bedroom, Kol dropped her grip on my cock and finished pulling her pants off, the front of her tiny little black thing was matted with liquid and by the time I had gotten out of the rest of my clothes, she too was completely naked. She looked stunning, short but her body was chiseled and athletic, both Kol and Brit had competed in a figure competition only eight months prior and Kol had taken forth out of a pretty big pool. I could see the cut lines of her abdomen and the faint outline of a six pack. Just below that lovely six pack was a pussy shaved bald and I could see the wetness on her thighs just below her engorged lips, which were thick and meaty. Yes indeed I was gonna have a little bit of a ball with this little minx.

Kol lay back on the bed, her knees up and spread, absently teasing one of her nipples as she licked her lips and made room for me. I wanted to just crawl between her muscular thighs, ram my cock home and fuck the living shit out of her, but as I was lining up my approach I looked down between her splayed thighs, at the freshly shaven pussy lay out before me like a buffet, just ready to eat, a slick sheen of juice pasted to her thick lips and even running down between her legs and onto the little asshole that winked at me as she pulled her thighs apart further, her thick outer lips opening up even more and letting more or her juices out to greet me. I had to eat that pussy, loudly and make her cum at least twice before I got to work.

My first taste was pretty damn good, tangy and a bit biting but we had been at the club and it was far from the worst pussy I had eaten. Kol was enjoying it; she was running her hands roughly through my hair as I worked the magic only a skilled cunnilingist can. As I sucked Fulya travesti on her clit and she moaned out her vowels and gripped my head tightly between her wet thighs, I heard the gently squeaks of Brit and Duke’s bed just on the other side of the wall and a naughty idea filled my head. Brit and Duke had been serenading me with their sexual exploits since I got back and a couple of times before I got deployed the last time and it was time I returned the favor.

As I continued to suck, lick and kiss my way along the sweet folds of Kol’s pussy, adding two fingers to the mix, I heard the bed on the other side of the wall start to squeak rhythmically and then the first soft moans as Brit got rolling and began to gain in volume. Kol seemed to respond to the voyeuristic nature of my seemingly poorly soundproofed room, writing even more and adding a louder moan here and there, her competitive nature starting to come out a bit. The squeaking and moaning on the other side of the wall began to get louder as they got into full swing and Kol pulled me out from between her legs, anxious to get to it.

“Holy shit.” Kol gasped as I slid the angry red helmet of my cock up against her drooling pussy and began teasing the entrance as well as rubbing it along her now unhooded clit. Kol was soaking wet already from both her arousal and my licking but she did not have a very wide hips and would most likely have trouble taking my cock simply on width. Hitching her hips forward, Kol took the flared head of my cock just inside her and her mouth dropped open, her eyes rolled back and I pushed in slowly, looking down and watching her fat lips flaring around my cock head like the hood of a cobra, glistening juices flaring out around the head and coated to first couple of inches as I pushed in, trying not to cum right away from the sensation of Kol’s tight pussy wrapped around me, it clamped down like a vice as it tried to move forward a bit more but Kol clamped down tighter on me, despite the amount of natural lube she was putting out. There was not more holding back, I was gonna get up to my nuts and fuck her for as long and as hard as I could, I could hear Brit about to hit her first orgasm and the second was soon to follow.

Grabbing hold of both of Kol’s shoulders, and with a deep intake of breath from the lithe beauty behind me, I drove myself as deep as I could into Kol’s drooling pussy.

“O Fuck!” Koll shrieked as I began driving into her as hard and as fast as I could, biting down hard on my lip to keep the boiling fire at the base of my cock from turning into an end to this session. I was truly enjoying the attention and Kol’s hollering had gone from loud to damn near dog whistle pitch and she had taken to taking deep gasping breaths and squeezing her eyes so tight she looked as if she had just finished eating a lemon.

I changed position then, needing a break again to keep from busting my nut, and I have always loved to take it to a gal with her legs up on my shoulders so that’s just what I did. Her legs felt smooth and soft against my ears as I pulled her calves up beside my head and Kol smiled weakly as if she knew it was coming.

Next door, Duke and Brit had hit their stride, their headboard was playing hell against the wall and Brit was wailing her way through her third orgasm as Duke began to add to the noise, announcing his own orgasm was close.

Kol looked down lewdly to watch my fat cock disappear between her legs as I began to drop my hips down atop hers hard and fast. Kol began hollering and wrapped both her hands around my neck, her mouth open as she spewed foul words to encourage me on.

“O fuck, o fuck, o fuck, don’t stop….harder, o fuck right there.” Kol began to shudder and quake as another orgasm rocked through her and her pussy took hold of my cock like a vice while her lubricants surged around me, splashing on my balls and pushing me just close enough to orgasm that Kol’s eyes flashed open and she clamped her legs behind my thighs, biting down on her lip as hard as she could biting back a scream as she bade me power on and finish the nigh brutal fuck session.

Right at that moment, as the fire in my sac was beginning to boil over and I shifted into overdrive, I heard Brit shriek one final time and then there was silence save for heave breathing as the dialed it down, her breathless moans of pleasure along with Kol’s whimpers was all it took and all my pent up aggression come flooding up my cock. Using all my strength, I yanked my cock free of the amazingly tight and soaking wet confines of Kol’s pussy, my fist and rod trailing a stream of her fluid as I fired the first long stream of cum in an arch that landed just south of her chin and trailed over her left, sweat sheen breast as Kol let out a disappointed moan as her pussy clutched spasmodically at the vacant space between her legs as my cock continued to fire my molten seed across her belly and breasts. Dropping her legs I continued to milk my twitching organ as she scooted down and took my cook in her mouth, sucking so hard my eyes almost crossed. I wiped my hands through my sweat matted hair and suffered a full body shiver as Kol hollowed her cheeks around the head of my cock to get the very last drop of cum from my deflating cock. Kol looked up at me, her hand tailing absently from through the river of jizz all across her torso and shook her matted blonde tresses.

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