Dream

Here’s a dream from last night.

Charlie and I temporarily live in a small apartment on the third floor, just above the tree line, with windows on three walls. We look over an open patio/hallway on the second level below, lined with bookcases and desks, exposed to the elements. It’s unclear to me if this is a private office or a public area, as it opens onto the street.

Charlie is away for the day. A man suggests I open a male brothel to operate while she’s out. I’m unsure of the idea, but succumb to his adamancy. He recruits a half dozen dwarves. They roam the apartment nude. I have to eject one, who is handsome yet disruptive. Another is very eager for me to fuck him. He curls before me like a roly-poly, tucking away his arms and legs. I resist, as I don’t think I should fuck him. I finger his ass, which splashes shit onto my hand and floor. I feel pity and suggest he should wash up. He returns and I tuck him under my shirt, unsure whether or not I’m fucking him, but allowing others to think I am. Only then do I notice he’s missing his left hand.

He’s left a mess in the bathroom. I begin to clean when I find him cowering in a corner of the shower. Pope Francis tells me that he is a traumatized war refugee. I feel more pity. I tell him he’s safe here; I won’t make him leave like the disruptive one. Francis becomes disgusted by the shit and excuses himself. The refugee is now my responsibility.

I’m walking through the open patio/hallway. The office workers make me feel unwelcome, though I feel this is a public area, and owe no apologies.

My dad sends a video to my phone. He’s chauffeuring Warhol, Bowie, Mapplethorpe, William S. Burroughs and Patti Smith; Smith is nodding on drugs. They’re on their way to an amusement park in the 1970s. They look like kids, I think, before realizing I’m strapped to the front of the moving car. I’m happy there.

I’m at a venue showing the footage of a “secret concert.” I’ve seen the film before. Now, the surviving performers are assembled for a dinner. I see Chrissie Hynde, whom I’d forgotten to be in the concert, and Patti Smith. She was in the car, I recall, and the only passenger still living.

I begin to draw two larger-than-life figures in charcoal. They are seen from about mid-waist and loom menacingly. There’s not much detail in the figures. I obscure them further with heavier, darker lines. The act of drawing feels cathartic.

Liz and I are going to an art reception in upper Manhattan. The area has changed since I was last here, long ago. Liz tells me she is transitioning, and I thank her for letting me know. We leave the reception with Patti Smith. She’s talking about my drawing, saying that if it hurts, I should keep doing it. Listening prevents me from speaking to Liz, who has advanced ahead of us. She’s taken off her shirt to show she’s very well muscled. She’s at the top of a hill, but going along a disused road. I call her back, saying there’s a better road ahead.

Close Call

I sat watching as Halo and her boy Luke topped my girlfriend Kay. Or rather, our girlfriend, as Kay is Halo’s girlfriend, too. Halo is my protégé. Luke is Halo’s submissive. He is not our submissive. Luke bottoms only to Halo, and he is otherwise dominant. I was watching to observe Halo in action as she led Luke with a submissive very familiar to each of us but unfamiliar to her boy.

Halo’s emergent style as a dominant is one of continuous communication—“Does this feel good? May I do this?”—which of course I encourage, though my own style is less verbal. Halo’s style suits her well. She is straight–edge on consent and control in a scene, and therefore very particular about choosing play partners. In this, I feel we are really teaching each other. Halo reminds me that I can afford to be selective.

Halo enjoys creating simple games, as she now did with Kay. Our girlfriend was to keep her eyes closed and to respond when asked questions. If Kay did well, she would be rewarded with pleasure. If she did not, she would be punished with sensation.

Halo delivers great sensations, and Kay responds excitedly to them. Kay wants to be obedient even though in her desires, reward and punishment are equally welcome. That’s a good way to top Kay, I thought, but it would be a hell of a confusing way to train a dog.

Luke lightly fingered Kay’s labia, teasing her, his eyes on her face. “Do you like how he’s touching you?” Halo asked, trailing the weight of a small chain around Kay’s neck. Our girlfriend nodded. “You need to answer with words, Kay, as I instructed.”

“Yes, it feels so good.” Her voice cracked.

“Good, that’s good to hear you say.” Halo trailed the chain down Kay’s chest, alternating from one breast to the other. “These are fresh bruises, aren’t they, Jefferson?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied from my chair. “Little mementos from earlier this evening.”

“Very pretty colors, Jefferson . . .” she began. “Wait, Kay: did you just open your eyes?”

“Yes, Halo,” Luke confirmed. “She did.”

“I did, I’m sorry,” Kay apologized. “You said Jefferson’s name and I wanted to see him.”

“He’s here to see you,” Halo reprimanded. “You are not here to see him. You are here to obey me. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Kay closed her eyes, nodding. “I do understand.”

“Good, but now, because you disobeyed, you’ll have be punished. Turn over.” Kay again apologized and turned as instructed. “Crouch on your elbows and knees,” Halo commanded. “Raise your ass a bit.” She ran her hand along Kay’s spine to indicate the position. Kay complied. “Luke, I want you spank Kay for being disobedient. Use the flat of your hand, like I showed you.” She leaned forward to Kay’s ear. “Luke has very big hands, and I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“You’re so nice to me,” Kay said, giggling nervously.

“I can be very nice, but now I have to be very mean to you,” Halo said. “You didn’t follow my orders.” Halo reached for two small knives I had placed at her disposal. Taking one knife in each hand, Halo traced lightly across Kay’s back.

I leaned forward to watch Halo’s blades cross over the marks I’d earlier left on Kay’s back with a single-tail whip.

Two others watched quietly. We were in the room designated for BDSM at a party otherwise primarily directed to sex. The sounds of moans and laughter came from another room, as in our space, the Velvet Underground sang of boots of shiny, shiny leather, tasting whips and pleading.

I took mental notes of Halo’s deliberateness, Luke’s measured strokes and, as they collaborated, their attentions to one another and Kay’s responses. My brain buzzed, tamping down suggestions that the pair try other things I know Kay enjoys, taking stock of the ways they treated her that differed from my own.

As my mind stored observations to churn into memories, I realized my cock had gone limp. I had become aware of a cycle of responses in my own body throughout this scene. When Halo directed punishment, I focused with my mind, analyzing and recording. When she directed pleasure, my body took over. Some time ago, I developed a Pavlovian reaction to Kay’s arousal. When she is turned on, I get hard. This is true whether I am touching her, watching someone else touch her, or overhearing her orgasms from another room.

“Now, you have been punished,” Halo said. She grabbed a fistful of Kay’s hair. “Now, you will turn over and we’ll reward you with pleasure.”

Kay grunted as her hair was tugged. “May I make a request, please?”

“Yes, you may,” Halo answered. “Thank you for asking first. What is your request?”

“May I please suck Jefferson’s dick? He looks so hot watching, and he’s so hard.”

Halo looked at me. She saw that I wasn’t hard. “What do you say, Luke?” she asked of her collaborator. “Shall we allow Kay to suck her boyfriend’s cock?”

Luke pondered the request, rubbing Kay’s lower back with his massive hands. Finally, he answered. “Yes,” he said with care. “Yes, Halo, I concur if you’ll allow.”

“Thank you for giving that such careful consideration,” Halo smiled. She turned back to me. “Jefferson, would you be so kind as to join us on the bed?”

“Thank you,” I said standing. “Halo, Luke, thank you for allowing me to join your scene with my girlfriend.” I sat at the head of the bed, positioning myself so that Kay’s face hovered over my dick. I leaned forward and kissed each of her eyes, flicking my tongue lightly over the tightly closes lids. “You’re sucking your man’s cock,” I whispered. “But Halo is still the boss.”

“I understand,” she smiled.

“Good girl.” I placed a palm on the back of her neck and lowered her face to my body. Her mouth rooted until it found my limp dick. She swallowed me, moaning. Pavlov took care of the rest. Kay kept her lips tight around the base of my cock, coughing spittle as I grew into her throat. “Good, good,” I whispered.

“That’s so beautiful,” Halo admired. She stood to one side, stroking the strap-on cock she wore. I knew it well; her Feeldoe is never far when we are co-topping. “You see Luke, that’s how I’d like you to learn to suck my dick.”

“I only wish I were so good as Kay,” Luke admired.

“You’ll learn,” Halo nodded. She placed a hand on Kay’s back. “Jefferson, do you mind if I fuck your girlfriend? She just looks so lovely on her knees.”

“I’m a guest in your scene, Halo,” I replied. I stroked Kay’s hair. “Honey, you don’t mind if my protégé fucks you, do you?” She gurgled onto my cock and slightly shook her head. “That’s ‘no, you don’t mind,’ or ‘no, you’d rather not?’”

Kay pulled back her face. Streams of spittle connected her lips to my cock. “Oh please, fuck me, someone, please!” she laughed. She gasped two gulps of air before taking me back inside her.

“Sound definitive!” I smiled, giving a thumbs-up to Halo. “Fuck away, dude.”

“Dude!” She laughed and held up her palm. “It’s so fun being a guy with you, Jefferson.” I gave back a resounding high-five. Halo positioned herself behind Kay. The grunt on my cock told me another was inside her.

I sat back, hands behind my head, surveying the scene. Kay held her hair in a bundle, her face flush from exertion. Halo fucked her in what was, between my protégé and I, a favored posture—each of us on either side of a body that we regard as our shared “angel.” Luke leaned against a wall, his long lean frame taut as he fingered his thick cock. Nearby, a straight dom who had been eying Kay all night jerked off next to a cute twink I’d be eying all night. I had caught the twink’s name right away: Leo.

“I have an idea,” Halo said after a while. “Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” She caught my eye. “Can we do a double penetration?”

“Smashing idea!” I replied. “And I know just the position. Here, let’s all pull out of Kay.” Halo and I backed away.

“Wait, what happened to the cocks?” Kay complained.

“Don’t worry your pretty head,” I said, patting her indifferently. “Okay, let’s do this? Halo, you lay on your back. When she does, Kay, you ride her cock.” I stepped out of the way as they got into position.

“This feels so good!” Halo smiled, as Kay’s body pushed the Feeldoe in and out of her own.

“Right? Okay, that’s great. Hang on, I’ll get into position . . .” I stood on the bed, one foot on either side of Halo’s shoulders. I lifted Kay’s chin. “Here, girl. You suck my cock. If you’re taking two dicks, you may as well have three.” Kay looked up and took my cock in her mouth. Her lips smiled slightly as she caught my eyes. “Good girl! Okay, now Luke, you’re up. Let’s get you in her pussy with Halo, her from the front, you from the back.”

“Is that possible?” Luke asked, reaching for a condom.

“Trust me, I’m a professional.” I gathered Kay’s hair in a fist. “You two doing all right?”

Kay gurgled. “Oh, we’re just fine,” Halo smiled.

“Everybody, think: teamwork,” I encouraged. Luke took his position behind Kay. His eyes were down as he tried to guide his cock into Kay’s pussy.

“Hmmm,” He murmured.

“Don’t rush, just take your time,” I encouraged. I fucked Kay’s mouth harder to keep her mind focused and blank.

“Jesus, that’s fucking hot,” Leo said. He spat into his palm and rubbed his cock.

Halo watched Leo’s erection take form. “Okay, now I want to suck cock, too,” she said.

“We can do that!” I exclaimed. I looked around. How would we do that? “We can do that . . . okay, look. Kay, sit back slightly . . .”

“Oh yes, do!” Halo laughed, as the Feeldoe was pushed inside her.

“ . . . Okay, now I’ll step forward . . .” I eased my cock back into Kay’s mouth. “Now you, Leo, you straddle Halo’s face.” I leaned forward to allow him into position. “ . . . and I can rest my back on yours.” The position worked, and worked all the better I was leaning on a cute boy. The only step remaining was to add Luke’s cock to Kay’s pussy.

“I don’t know, this isn’t working,” Luke said, sitting back on his knees. “I just can’t get in there.”

“Let’s get a look at that,” I said. I leaned forward, pulling out of Kay’s mouth. I kissed her hair. “Hang on, I’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” she gasped. “I could use some air.” She noticed Leo sitting on Halo’s face. “Oh, that’s hot,” she sighed, and began to finger herself.

“Now, this could be one of a few problems,” I said to Luke in my best auto-mechanic tone. I spread Kay’s ass. “Might be that she’s low on lube.” I ran a finger along the Feeldoe’s shaft. “Nope, that’s nice and slick. Could be that she’s in an awkward position. If she lowered her shoulders, you might be able to enter more easily. Or, it could be . . .” I patted Luke’s shoulder. “ . . . that your giant dick isn’t going to fit.”

Luke looked at the behemoth resting in his vast palm. “I thought that may have been the problem,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t want to say anything.”

I rubbed his back. “It’s not a problem, son. There’s a place in this world for big dicks, too.”

“I know a place,” Halo said. “My mouth! I want two dicks.”

“There you go, Luke,” I smiled. “Always a solution.”

As Luke moved away, I fingered Kay lightly. I tried inserting a finger, wondering if my cock might do the job. “Oh, that’s a bit much,” she winced.

I took back my hand. “Yeah, it’s Halo’s dick that’s mucking up the works. See, it’s pretty big. Plus, it’s not malleable, so unlike bio cock, it has less give . . .”

“Okay, you be the teacher,” Kay said, rising. “I think I need a little break.”

“Would you like a spanking or anything?” offered the observant dom, still stroking his cock.

“No, thanks,” smiled Kay. “I’m going to get some water . . .”

“Oh, you stay here,” he interrupted. “I’ll bring the water to you.” He hurried off in the direction of the kitchen.

Kay thanked him and settled next to me. “Pretty girls don’t fetch water at sex parties,” I whispered.

“I can see that,” she said, kissing my shoulder. We turned to watch Halo blow two boys, her giant Luke and the slight twink Leo. I began to absentmindedly stroke her Feeldoe.

Halo looked up from her cocks. “Oh, keep doing that,” she sighed. “Just like that. That feels so amazing!”

I continued stroked her gently. Her hips pushed up as I gently pushed down. I could only see a bit of her face between the bodies of the two boys she was sucking, so I listened for her contented gurgles.

“Jefferson!” Halo suddenly cried out. “Jefferson, for the love of all that is Holy, fuck me!”

“Fuck you?” I grinned at Kay. “Why, I’d like nothing better.” Kay reached to the night stand for a condom. My erection bobbed as I worked to remove the harness holding Halo’s cock in place. Kay put an unwrapped condom in my hand as the other slowly eased the Feeldoe from Halo’s body.

Halo looked up from her cocks. “Wait, what are you doing, Jefferson?”

I held up the condom. “Making way to fuck you, dear.”

Halo smiled and shook her head. “No, Jefferson,” she softly explained. “I meant ‘fuck me,’ as in ‘fuck my cock, you dirty slut.’”

“Oh! Whew, that was a close call—I nearly obeyed the wrong ‘fuck me.’” I eased the Feeldoe back into place. “That’s a horse dick of different color. You want to put this monster in my ass . . .” I replaced the harness, palming the condom as I refastened a strap. “Well, I suppose we can do that . . .”

“I’ll do it if you don’t want to,” Leo offered. Kay and I had watched Leo take a dildo attached to a power-tool jackhammer; Halo’s Feeldoe would be simple mechanics by comparison.

“Now, that would be hot,” Kay nodded, smiling.

“Uh-huh,” I agreed. “Well, I’ve got the condom here, if you can find the lube . . .”

“Wait, first I need to go to the bathroom,” Leo said. He turned and brushed past me on the bed. “Be right back, guys.”

Halo sat up. “You know, I need to got the bathroom, too.”

Luke kissed her shoulder. “I’ll come keep your company,” he said. “Sounds like there could be a line.”

Kay and I were left alone on the bed. I held forward the condom and shrugged. She shrugged and threw up her hands. We were fucking when the dom returned with a single cup of water.

“I ran into Leo in line for the bathroom,” he nodded. “Sounds like a hot scene coming up! I’ll get a good seat.”

“Oh, that scene is over,” I said, squeezing Kay's breasts as we fucked. “They won’t be back. There are too many distractions between here and the bathroom.”

The next time Kay and I encountered Halo and Luke, they were making out in the shower.



Feeldoe

Blogoversary

Today is the fifth anniversary of my blog.

Five years ago this week, I had a date with Celia. I had fostered a serious crush on her since the night, months before, she had showed up at my orgy on the arm of a guy I liked. Celia and I planned to go to a gallery and have lunch before her daily yoga class. She never made it to yoga. The date lasted all weekend.

As was my habit in those days, I described our date in a long email to my friend Dacia. The demise of my marriage was fresh, and after fifteen years of generally abstinent monogamy, dating and sex were wholly alien to me. It helped to share my experiences with someone who could relate to the wonder and surreality I felt in being with new partners. I was now free to desire others and, more astonishingly to me, others desired me in kind.

After reading this particular story, Dacia diagnosed me with “blog envy” and suggested I start my own blog. I had little notion of what a blog was; this was two-thousand and four, back when “weblogs” were novel and Facebook and Twitter mere twinkles in the eyes of entrepreneurial undergraduates. Dacia offered to help me get started. One evening over bourbon and conversation, she showed me how to start a blogger account. My email to Dacia about a weekend with Celia became my first post.

When I started blogging, I imagined I was writing into a void. No one I knew read blogs, much less blogs about sex. I was aware of only a few sex blogs and of those, none were by parents, none were by men and none by anyone over thirty. None were primarily focused on nonfiction erotica. I didn’t imagine that I had discovered a niche; rather, I felt like an interloper in an arena in which bespectacled twenty-something women offered sex advice to one another while waiting for the inevitable book deal. I contented myself by regarding my blog as a kind of safe deposit box. I now had a place where I could store the stories of my new life.

It wasn’t long before that perception changed. A reader began to correspond with me and, before long, we had a date. That date lead to love, a sexual relationship lasting nearly two years, and a friendship that endures to this day. Another newly-divorced parent found my blog, started her own, and, despite the twelve-hundred miles between us, we fell in love. People who read my blog also became bloggers. Other bloggers came my way as correspondents and sex partners. Within a year of my first post, I found that the void into which I had written had transformed into a community of friends, lovers and fellow smutmongers.

My writing as “Jefferson” soon became a second career, an adjunct to the work done under my real name. My blog drew media interest and offers to publish elsewhere. I began to teach at public events. Eventually, publicity led to catastrophe. My ex-wife discovered my blog and, asserting that my sexuality as described herein put our children in immediate danger, she sued for full custody. I took down my blog as that case went to court. Adding to my difficulties, covetous bloggers saw my curtailed online presence as an opportunity to promote themselves at my expense. For nearly a year, I kept my life offline as my ex-wife sought to dismember my family and others sought to capitalize on my misfortune.

In the end, I prevailed in my custody case. The State of New York did not concur with my ex-wife’s cynical assertions that my sexuality was in any way detrimental to our children. My family remained intact.

My blog returned and, to the dismay of malicious wags, it continued to attract a wide readership. In seeking to bury me with gossip, they only succeeded in making my story that much more interesting to readers.

Throughout these hardships, I was reminded over and again of the many good things that have happened because I began to put my life online in this blog. My struggle in the custody case was aided by Lambda Legal, The National Coalition for Sexual Freedom and The Sexual Freedom Legal Defense and Education Fund. Throughout my interactions with these organizations, I was supported in the free expression of my sexuality. I was offered daily encouragement by friends I met though this blog, including those who formed The Friends of Jefferson to aid in raising awareness and funds. Readers offered supportive notes and made financial contributions to my legal defense fund; as these donations were anonymous, I can’t thank contributors directly except by offering my gratitude here. The legal defense fund was instrumental in the preservation of my family. Thank you.

Being online and open about my relationships, my parenting and my sexuality is not a decision I’ve made lightly. I am aware of the challenges I risk because I choose to do so. Still, it would be wrong to stop writing merely to avoid conflict with my ex wife—she’s made it plain that she will continue to offer conflict, blog or no blog—or to cede to the bullying of online detractors. It’s gratifying to hear that my blog entertains. It’s inspiring to hear that it encourages others in their own lives.

Each year on my blogoversary, I reprint my original post. (This was unfortunately not possible last year, when I was obliged to keep my sex life offline.) If you enjoy this story, you’re welcome to root around in my Archives for more.

Enjoy. And Celia, I know you’re reading: happy anniversary.

My Celia

It’s been over a year since the break up.

For most of that year, I have hosted sex parties in Manhattan. I suppose I will need to catch you up on how that transpired. I’ve made great friends and lovers at these parties, and yet I haven’t often had the feeling of falling head over heels for someone.

Until my Celia.

I met Celia at a party at my place last spring. She arrived late with a guy who comes sometimes. The regulars were already naked, well fucked and relaxed.

Celia sat on a bed and chatted with us. She was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, worn backwards so that the logo was illegible. As we talked, Jane removed Celia’s clothes, and had soon stripped her naked. Jane kissed her torso as Celia leaned back, opening her thighs; we heard her gasp as Jane’s mouth reached her clit.

Being gracious like she is, Jane soon turned and offered me Celia’s body. I set to licking Jane's drool from Celia's labia.

As we fucked, as we did almost immediately, I decided not to stop fucking her. This is not the best form at a sex party, particularly for the host; one really should offer new guests an opportunity to work the room.

I doubt that Celia cared much for etiquette. She had gorgeous hazel-green eyes, focused intently on mine. I kept her gaze, noticing details at the periphery. Celia had a lovely face: aquiline nose, pre-Raphaelite features, framed in long black hair.

I was soon very curious to know more about the woman I was fucking, and so thought maybe we could take a break to chat.

"I would really like to talk with you," I said, meaning "Maybe we can stop and talk."

"Sure . . . what do you want to talk about?" she replied, as if I meant we should have a conversation while fucking. I was willing.

"So, where did you grow up?," I asked. I learned that she grew up in New England, she is an art student, and she would be working on a farm all summer. Within those first few moments, I gleaned that we had art in common, the sex was great, and I wouldn't be able to see her again for months.

I finally let her have sex with some of the others. Later we kissed, as intently as we had gazed. As she left, she stood in the door, giving me long, hungry kisses, as her date waited for her.

As it happened, she had an art show up, and as it happened, I was in the neighborhood the very next day. I was glad to see her art was good.

The summer passed.

Two weeks ago, I got an email from her, saying she was back in town and wanted to return to the sex parties. Cool!

I suggested we get together, and proposed we go check out the new Museum of Modern Art on opening day, as I had special tickets. It turned out she did too.

Later, we learned that the opening day was free to the public. So much for special access.

We decided to meet at an exhibition by Barbara Nitke at Art@Large gallery, get lunch, and see the museum--which we knew would be hellishly crowded. Nitke’s photos have to do with sadomasochism (SM). While not into SM herself, Nitke has an empathic insight into the lives of those who are. There is a strong sense of intimacy and care in her photographs.

Celia was late for our date, which was fine with me. We saw Nitke's work together. Celia says she knew many of the images, having seen Nitke lecture at the Eulenspeigel Society, a New York based organization for those into SM.

(I catalogued those details—Celia already knew Nitke and the Eulenspeigel Society?)

We lunched, and talked about out first encounter. It was her first sex party, she said, and her moment with Jane was her first encounter with a woman. She liked it, but she was taking downers at the time, which she regretted.

I referred to this as a pretty unusual second date. She agreed: first sex, then a lunch date. We were doing it backwards. She says she is surprised that she feels so shy.

She talked about her gaggle of girlfriends, and how she makes nude films of them, but can't imagine sex with them--though she really wants to be bisexual, as it's hip (it is?) and of course, there are more options for sex if you are bi.

She opines that the MoMA is going to be crazy crowded, and maybe we shouldn't go. This leaves her with two hours to kill before her yoga class . . . what can we do? Well, I suggest, we can go to my place and kiss. She looks at me like she can't believe I suggested this. I can't believe it myself--I am really getting bold.

"Okay," she says, "but I really am feeling shy about this. Is it too early to drink? Do you have any bourbon?"

"A girl after my own heart." I actually said that out loud.

Soon, we are at my place, on my couch, sipping bourbon. Soon, we are kissing. Fully clothed. For a long, sweet time.

Soon we are nude, in my bed, kissing. Touching. For a long, sweet time. She is so into gazing, touching, kissing, and I am melting, melting, melting. As the time passes, and her yoga class approaches, I think it will be wise not to start fucking. But I do go down on her. And she cums. And she cums again as I kiss her and hold her very close.

I should mention that she does intense yoga five times a week. And she is a semi-pro athlete. She has a strong, lean body. When she held me firmly, she knocked the breath out of me. Mind you, I was pretty breathless.

I tell her to go, it's time. She declines to leave. We fuck. Like all the foreplay, it's slow, and intense. At one point, I'm on top of her, holding myself up with my arms at full length. She is about to cum. She sits up, putting her arms around my shoulders. She lifts her ass from the bed. She is clinging to me, hanging from my body in air, pushing herself down on me. She cums. I can scarcely believe she made my body work that way.

We are back to kissing, touching . . . she discovered my sensitive nipples, and slowly tortured them. Exquisitely.

I am laying on top of her, tracing a finger along her nose, her lips, her cheeks. I take a breath. "You are really beautiful," I say. "You don't have to be. I would be nice to you anyway. But it helps that you are."

She looks down at me. "Are you bi?" she asks. I say I am. "I do well with the bi guys," she says. Why is that, you think? "Must be my physique," she says, flexing a bicep that would give pause to Charles Atlas.

She said she was hungry. I went to the kitchen and produced Spanish rice, steamed shrimp, and fresh calamari sauteed in garlic. We eat nude.

As we eat, we talk about the Nitke photos. She mentions liking one in which a man is fully bound to a flotation board, adrift in a pool. I say that there was such a sense of risk in that position. She says she likes the feeling of being bound.

I recall how she came when I was holding her, on top of her, as she pulled me closer to crush her.

"I can bind you," I offer. She produces rope and ankle bracelets from her bag, saying they were intended for a possible film shoot later that night. I dig up handcuffs and other stuff. She is soon strapped to my bed on all fours.

I torture her nipples. I tell her I am going to verbally abuse her. "Yes," she murmurs. I ask her why, with all that we've been doing, she has not sucked my cock? "Are you bad at it or something?" I ask. She opens her mouth, wide. I feed her my cock, and fuck her face hard. She can take it very well, so I commend her. Then I slap her for making me wait for that.

We had already established that she is an ass virgin, and so I take her to task for this. How can I let her fuck my friends if she can't even do anal? So I move around and give her a hard spanking. I lick her hole, and blow air in her. She moans. She can't help but fart. I spank her for this, and do it again. "This will burn, but only for a second," I warn. I take a sip of bourbon, and blow it up her ass. I plug it with my thumb, and then a butt plug.

I fuck her pussy.

"Can you take candle wax?," I ask. Never tried it, she mumbles. I drip wax on her back and ass for a very long time. She squirms until I tell her to be still. (Later she asked: was I making too much noise? I can try to be less responsive. Oh no, I say. You did very well.)

In time, I release her and take her to the shower. I wash her body, and flake off the wax. We go back to bed and it's tender again. She falls asleep. I read.

We woke up entangled, touching . . . her fingers are never still when they can be caressing. We spend the morning in bed. There was a joy in this, so palpable, for me at least, that I had to take care lest blurting out, "I am so in love with you."

I had to remind myself, I really don’t know Celia so well. Not yet.

I make her breakfast—bacon, eggs, and her first helping of grits. We were both very sated. We talk about how she just broke up with her boyfriend, and she had broken with her other two lovers in the last month. I say I am hers, when she wants me. Her eyes fix on mine. “That’s right,” she smiles.

My friend Todd calls. He reminds me that we are going to fuck this woman from Texas that night. I had offered to host, and said I would line up some others to join us. I had invited Thomas, that was easy, but I was so busy with Celia all weekend, I didn’t do much more.

I asked Celia if she wanted to do a group thing that night. She pondered it but declined. She was already well sexed. So was I, really.

Around two or three, I kissed goodbye to my Celia. I had a gang bang in a few hours. I would spend that time in the thrall of my Celia, picking up flecks of candle wax, and writing to my friend Dacia about her.

Fleshbot and Jack U Off

This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot is for those who resolve to keep it fresh in the new year. It ain’t necessarily the same old same old.

Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me disturbing breath, taking in waifs and watching Letterman.

Lily writes me with the news that we’ll no longer be having sex, and I am thrilled for her.

Tilda finds that telling me a few things goes a long way, as her breath is taken away after letting me know her interest in erotic breath play.

Janie spends time in her new comfort zones of deep throat cocksucking and submission on her way to losing another virginity.

Lynsey resolves to have more sex, has an awesome dream, and learns when that when it comes to advice, it is sometimes better to receive than to give.

Bianca misses a train and enjoys a rare peek at a day in the life of the man behind the curtain. She finds that it’s all tuna sandwiches, writing and late night television.

Bridget doesn’t mention me at all in this post, but since it concerns a blonde, daisy dukes and white trash, let’s just pretend it does so I can link it.

Cody gives me credit for saving her life tonight, but don’t cue up the Elton John so quickly. I mean, that’s what friends are for. (It will get better, Cody, as will my song references.)

Your requests are playing at Smut Turntable. But I warn you, do not listen the Dresden Dolls’ Shores of California. It’s an earwig! If you listen just once, it will course in your bloodstream like . . . like . . . the protozoa that first climbed onto the shores of California . . . or Aristophanes and Homer . . . or tease, or sleaze, or escort agencies . . . fuck, now I have to hear it again. Just once more. I can quit anytime.

Oklahoma-homa.

Speaking of traps, by passing “Go” on the new year, we collect two hundred dollars and enter the low-rent month of my birth. But baby, don’t you know I’ve got hot-sheets hotels on Mediterranean and Baltic Avenues? Book a room, because you’ll need it.

On the first birthday following the dissolution of my marriage, I turned forty. I found I had drawn three losing cards—middle aged, divorced and broke. My new girlfriend May suggested that we commemorate survival by getting out of the apartment and taking a room at a fancy hotel on Central Park South. There, we fucked and lounged nude. At one point, she blindfolded me, tied me to the bed and began to kiss my body. I felt her lips on my neck, my cock, my toes . . . and then, my cock and toes at the same time, and then my cock and toes and chest, all at once. “Hey, what gives?” I asked. She took off the blindfold. She smiled as I gasped, looking at Marcus, up from Washington, and his friend Daniel, who had flown in from San Francisco. Both were also nude. Our private retreat became a surprise party—or rather, a surprise orgy—arranged by friends who had left their lives behind to be with me on my birthday.

May and I were skidding by my next birthday. By that time, my sex parties had taken off, I had started a sex blog, and I was falling fast for a woman half my age, Shelby. That year, I decided to commemorate my birthday with a week of wall-to-wall sex that began with an all-male gangbang that cost me my bed.

By my next birthday, my annual week of wall-to-wall sex had left me exhausted. I got together with a dozen women, half as many men, and rolled from threesome to threesome before crashing and feeling dissolute. Last year, my most recent birthday week of wall-to-wall sex expanded to a month, I was inspired in the final two weeks of January to call for blowjobs from forty-four people: one for every year of my life, with one to grow on. Incredibly, that goal was reached by month’s end.

Now, of course, my friends want to know—how will I celebrate my birthday this year? Another broken bed? Another month of sex? Forty-five blowjobs?

I’ve got a different idea. This year, I want to get you off.

I really appreciate hearing from readers who’ve enjoyed getting off to this blog. For some, it’s been a fun diversion. For others, it’s opened doors to trying new things. For still others, the blog has let them know that they aren’t alone. That’s all good stuff, and it has much to do with why I write as “Jefferson.” It gives me joy.

So give me more joy for my birthday. Tell me how I can get you off. Maybe you want to have sex with me, trade oral sex, or find your g spot. Maybe you’ve dreamed of spankings or getting your virgin ass fucked. I can have sex with your lover, watch you masturbate, or teach you to deep throat.

Or maybe you would get off on having someone listen to the things you can’t tell people. Maybe there’s a picture you want someone to see, or a desire you want to share. There are many ways to get you off, and we don’t even have to meet for many of them.

This month, I'm going to get off forty-five people. One for every year of my life, plus one to grow on.

If you’re interested in participating, drop me a line at onelifetaketwo@gmail.com to tell me what you have in mind.

Zuzu's Petals

Leah was my secret. I didn’t talk about her, or blog about her, or invite her to meet my friends at my orgies. We saw each other regularly, and I liked that it was just between us. We drank bourbon, we talked about smart things, we had brilliant sex. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged a word from me about any of it.

She seemed just as content with our discretion. In public, my bite marks were hidden underneath her clothes, the welts from my cane readily felt and easily disguised. In private, she never refused me any request and relished being told what to do.

Leah had a way of compartmentalizing to keep our relationship tidy, maintaining a cool reserve that didn’t interfere with our measured intimacy. She kept a few things at my place—ear plugs to block my snoring, a speculum that we kept forgetting to use—but she always traveled with her own toothbrush.

She knew about my blog, although we didn’t talk about it much. I wasn’t even sure she read it. She also knew about my orgies, but she didn’t ask to attend. I might have assumed she simply wasn’t interested had I not also known that she was, first and foremost, exceptionally well mannered. She would never pry or ask for an invitation to anything.

Being beautiful also worked in her favor. Life had taught her that any invitation she wanted was likely to come to her.

This dame was a class act. Just watching her hold a glass as she talked, resting it in the palm of one hand as she held it between the manicured fingers of the other, I inevitably thought of the word “poise.”

Her innate composure held the same intrigue for me as a house of cards holds for a cat. I was compelled to comprehend it even at the risk of scattering it to pieces.

One evening, I extended an invitation.

“Would you like,” I said, resting my bourbon glass on my knee, “to be my guest for the Bukkake Social Club?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Why, thank you for the charming invitation, but what is that?”

I explained. “Well, as you know, Leah, I host a few orgies each month. One of these is a mixed party of bisexual men and women. It’s very popular, and there are always new men who want to be invited. This puts me in a bind, as we want a good gender ratio. If I add a male, I like to add a female.”

“Naturally. You’re a good host.”

“I do my level best,” I smiled. “So this imbalance finds me in a quandary. I am left with a group of men who are all perfectly satisfactory—attractive, polite and bisexual, or at least bi-friendly—and nothing to do with them. So I was struck by the thought that perhaps I could start a new event for them. And thus was born the Bukkake Social Club.”

I sipped my bourbon. Leah waited, listening.

“The Bukkake Social Club meets every couple of weeks. At each session, I present a different female guest. The gentleman undress and I undress our guest. They then watch as our guest and I have sex. The gentlemen are not permitted to touch our guest, though they are invited to interact with one another if they choose. At the meeting’s end, the gentlemen cum on our guest and then leave.” I took another sip. “And then, you know, we keep fucking.”

Leah laughed. “I’m in. How can I resist an opportunity to be the center of attention?”

“Cheers.” I raised my glass. “And can I tell you something funny about the Bukkake Social Club? I don’t impose a time limit, but a meeting has never once gone over forty-five minutes. One boy will announce that he’s going to cum, and once he does, it’s a chain reaction. They all cum.”

“That’s interesting,” she nodded. “Sort of a tribal male ritual?”

“That, or the porn effect,” I shrugged. “They all know their roles, having seen it often enough in bukkake porn. Either way, they are going to really enjoy making a mess of you.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Leah said, extending a leg to press her toes against my groin.

I put down my glass and extended a hand.

The next day, Leah emailed two pictures for me to forward to the gentlemen. One showed her body as she lay flat on crisp white sheets. The other was shot in a mirror, the camera obscuring her face but revealing her large breasts and slender waist.

The gentlemen responded with terrific enthusiasm.

On the evening the Bukkake Social Club next convened, Leah was late to leave work. Several of the gentlemen had already arrived when I opened the door for her. They stood as one when I introduced her to the room.

“Gentlemen, this is Leah. Leah, may I introduce Timothy, Bill, Jeremy, Max, Chris, Philip, Eric . . .”

Leah raised a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll never remember names,” she said. “Unless I have to, and I’d rather not.”

The men laughed nervously. Although many of them had been members of the Bukkake Social Club for a while, the first moments of each session still felt awkward for some.

“Not at all,” I said. “Drink?”

“Yes, please.” Leah looked to the couch. One of the gentlemen moved aside to make room. “Thanks,” she said, sitting at the vacated space near one end.

Leah was chatting with the gentlemen when I returned with her vodka and seltzer. (I had learned that she couldn’t tolerate the quinine of tonic water, and so I kept seltzer for her.) She was a natural, I observed. She could manage any cocktail party with aplomb, even one such as this.

Typically, I preferred that the guest arrive before the gentlemen so that the two of us would have time to get in the right frame of mind. Now, that would just have to happen in a group setting. But it would need to happen reasonably soon, as some of the men needed to get home to dinner with their wives or girlfriends.

There was a knock at the door. “This fellow is late, but he’s lucky we’re off to a late start tonight,” I said, standing. I opened the door to find one of the new guys.

“Hey, Jefferson? Jacob, man. Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries, Jacob. We’re off to a late start.” I took his hand. “Come in, I’ll introduce you.”

He smiled. I closed the door behind him.

My mind flipped through its Rolodex of club applicants. Jacob was bisexual, right? I would need to look back into that. For in that moment at the door, I had catalogued his lips, his smile, and the way he said my name. I was beginning to assemble the necessary ingredients for a hearty crush.

I introduced Jacob to the room. Seating positions were adjusted and the late arrival sat next to the guest of honor.

“So you’re Leah?” he said, offering a hand. “I’m Jacob.” He chuckled as they shook hands. “Interesting way to meet, huh?”

“Oh yes, but how else do you meet the most interesting people?”

“I suppose so,” Jacob nodded. “So how do you know Jefferson?”

Leah looked at me. “Craig’s List, though that seems a long time ago. How do you know him?”

“Craig’s List, too, but kind of indirectly. I know someone who came to this bukkake thing and he told me I had to check it out. So I’m checking it out.”

“Oh right, Robby,” I recalled. “How’s he doing?”

“I guess he’s okay,” Jacob said. “He said hey, sorry he can’t make it.”

“Send him my regards.” Robby was a cute twink who tended to cling to the walls at our events. I pictured Jacob and him naked together, wondering if that’s how they knew one another.

I looked at Jacob. He was watching Leah’s face as she spoke to the other fellows. He caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back.

Leah looked to him, then to me. She seemed to compiling her own catalogue of observations.

“Hey, Leah, can I ask you a question?” Jacob said. “Do you work in midtown?”

Leah moved her glass to her palm. “Yes. Why?”

Jacob ran a hand through his hair. He asked if she worked in a particular building. She did. He asked if she worked for a particular company. She did.

“Yeah, well, so do I. I’ve seen you in the elevators. I thought that was you.”

I cringed. Leah was content with our discretion and now I had brought in a co-worker to watch us fuck.

The two passed a volley of company gossip. I watched the faces of the other gentlemen. This was unprecedented in our social club, and it threatened to upset our decorum. I needed to address this.

“Leah, sorry to interrupt,” I began. “But are you comfortable having Jacob here? I mean, if it’s a problem, we can just have him back another time when you won’t be our guest.”

Leah pushed her hair over a shoulder. “Oh no, I can totally have him fired.”

Jacob nodded. “It’s true, she can so fire my ass.”

The men laughed. “Well, if that is resolved,” I said, standing. “Then I would like to officially open this session of the Bukkake Social Club. Gentlemen?”

The gentlemen stood and began to remove their clothes. Jacob looked around and began to do the same. I remained clothed for now.

Leah sat back with her drink. “Hmm, I’m enjoying this.”

“All for you, pretty,” I smiled, waving a hand to the assembly.

A moment before, there had been a group of guys sitting around, chatting nervously. Now they were gone, replaced by virile bodies, handsome faces and cocks that were filling with anticipation. Leah slowly sipped her drink, letting her eyes take in the men who would soon be so intent on looking at her.

I watched Jacob’s body emerge from his clothes. He pulled off a black t-shirt to reveal a lean torso decorated by old-school tattoos that had no immediately discernible relationship to one another. A Star of David hung from his neck.

“A fellow Jew with tattoos,” Leah smiled approvingly. She raised a fist in the air. “Huzzah!”

“Oh yeah?” Jacob replied, unfastening his wide belt. “You too?” His pants lowered with the jangle of the chain that connected his wallet to a belt loop.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Leah said, lowering her eyes as she first saw Jacob’s thick cock.

I glanced at Jacob’s body, surreptitiously cataloguing. Certainly, there was nothing about his appearance that would quell the threat of an incipient crush.

Physically, he was just little slighter than me. I imagined unzipping my skin and wrapping him in it; the fit would be just right.

Jacob looked around at the other nude men. He brought his palms together with a clap. “Okay,” he said, involuntarily.

“Gentlemen, I recommend that we adjourn to the bedroom.” I took Leah’s hand. “Shall we?”

“You lead, I follow,” she said.

When she stood, I turned her to face the men. I moved her hair to kiss the back of her neck, inhaling deeply. I took her arms behind her back and wrapped them in my right arm. I twirled her suddenly to face the other direction. “Actually,” I said, “Why don’t you lead?”

She stepped forward haltingly, unable to move beyond my restrictions on her body. I pressed myself against her back and turned her to enter the bedroom. The gentlemen followed, forming a semi-circle around the bed.

I released Leah and turned her. I lowered my lips to hers, knowing that my kisses pushed the boundaries of the intimacies she could accept. And yet I kissed her, before witnesses, to remind her that she was vulnerable in my hands.

My hands moved down her body. I pulled her top up and over her head. I kept my eyes on her as I spoke. “Gentlemen, let’s take a moment to revisit the club rules. You are welcome to watch and jerk off. If you want to touch another fellow, make sure it’s okay before you touch. You aren’t to touch Leah . . .”

“It’s okay above the waist,” Leah interjected.

“A fortunate revision, gentlemen.” I turned Leah to face the assembly. I unfastened her bra.

“Whoa,” Timothy said.

Leah smiled. “Before anyone asks: yes, they are real.”

My hands cupped her breasts from behind. “Hmmm, and spectacular.” I lowered my teeth to her shoulder.

“Unnnh,” Leah squirmed, closing her eyes. I pinched a nipple.

I stood back and reached around to unfasten her pants. She raised her legs to step from them. I kicked them aside. I ran my hands along her hips, fingering her thong panties, caressing her flat belly, watching over her shoulder as the men gazed at her body. No one was looking at me; I was merely the barker who showcased the main attraction.

I ran a cheek across Leah’s shoulders, a private gesture between us. Her breathing accelerated. My eyes were closed, savoring her scent and touch. When I opened my eyes, I saw Jacob looking at me. I closed my eyes again, smiling inwardly, growing hard in my clothes.

I slipped my hands into the strands of her thong. “Gentlemen, also please recall that you are not to cum on Leah’s face or in her mouth.” I crouched, lowering Leah’s panties as I sank. “That said, we want to give her a good soaking, so when you do cum, please be sure you cover her.” I stood, wrapping my arms around her. “May I suggest you consider her tits as your target?”

“Shit,” Eric said, stroking fast. He looked as if he were ready to explode.

I turned Leah to face me. I undressed and put my hands to her face. “It’s me,” I whispered. “And you.”

Leah nodded. I lead her to the bed and lay her back. I spread her thighs and ran a finger along her slit. “Wet,” I assessed. “Very nice.” I lowered my face to taste her, burrowing my nose into her smooth, soft pubis. She twisted, breathing fast. Her eyes were closed. I knew they would remain closed until I told her to open them.

The men pressed close. Eric knelt on the bed over her body. He raised a hand, but halted. “I can touch you?” he asked. Leah sucked a deep breath and nodded.

Eric’s hand shook slightly as he caressed a breast. Other hands joined his on her. I soon felt Leah quiver in my mouth. I flicked her clit steadily, prepared for her orgasm.

It came quietly as her body bucked, her soft high wail filling my ears. “Fuck, that’s hot,” Chris admired. He looked to another man. “God, she’s so hot.”

“Yes, isn’t she?” I agreed. I took a condom and tore the package. I pulled her to the bed’s edge. She moaned as I entered her. I stood with her legs against my chest, exposing her body to the eyes and hands of the gentlemen. They wanted to see her, not merely watch my back humping over her. In directing this show, I cast myself as a supporting actor.

Leah’s hands went back over her head. I recognized this as a sign of her surrender. Often, I pinned her back as I fucked her. “Jacob, do me a favor,” I asked. “Hold Leah’s arms back, please.”

“Sure.” Jacob dropped his cock and knelt on the bed behind Leah’s head. She crossed her forearms as he took him in his grip. She squirmed against his hold. Jacob held firm.

“Good boy. Thanks.” I pressed back on Leah’s thighs and fucked into her with deep, merciless thrusts. She responded by cumming again. As she came, I saw that she held Jacob’s cock in her confined hands.

As her wail subsided, I nodded at Jacob, gesturing that he should release her arms. He did, and her hands fell away from his cock. I leaned forward and took Leah’s jaw in my right hand. I roughly turned her to face me.

“Open your eyes, Leah.” She opened her eyes, nodding as best she could in my grip. “Come here, Jacob.” I turned my eyes to direct him to kneel at her side. I turned Leah’s face in his direction. “Take a look at Jacob. Isn’t he beautiful?”

She nodded.

“Look at his hair, his face, his body.” Leah’s eyes lowered. “Look at that cock. Don’t you want it?”

She nodded.

“Leah, we have a rule at the Bukkake Social Club. You don’t get to blow the boys. Do you understand that rule?”

She nodded. I could hear the men breathing heavily around me, but I kept my eyes on Leah. I shifted her face from my right hand to my left.

“But Leah,” I continued. “That rule does not apply to me.” I turned my face and took Jacob’s cock in my hand. My eyes locked on his as I took it in my mouth. He nodded as I swallowed him, shoving him in and out of my mouth.

I moved the fingers of my left hand into her mouth, pressing to the back of her tongue as I sucked Jacob’s cock. I pushed deeper into her cunt, keeping her full.

I knew her eyes were open, as I had instructed.

I pulled back and looked at her. I took Jacob’s cock in my hand and guided him a few steps to one side. I leaned over Leah and kissed her. I moved my face back slightly and once again took Jacob in my mouth. His cock brushed lightly over her lips as I sucked him.

Leah opened her mouth to taste him. I pulled her hair with my free hand. She yelped.

I dropped the cock from my mouth, drool running into her face. “You are such a slut, Leah.” I pulled out of her. “Turn over.”

Leah weakly turned on her front, then up on her knees. I lubed her ass and pushed into her. She groaned and fell forward slightly.

“No, Leah, you must remain upright.” I grabbed her shoulder and fucked into her hard. “Godammit, you are hopeless. Jacob, I’m sorry, but can you lend another hand?”

He came to my side. “What can I do?”

I slapped Leah’s ass. She sighed. “I give up. She’s a slut and there’s nothing to be done about it. Go shove your cock in her mouth, please.”

Jacob smiled. “Sure, Jefferson, anything you say.”

“Fucking hot,” Philip said.

Jacob positioned himself in front of Leah’s face, spreading his legs wide to accommodate her elbows. She lowered her mouth to his cock tentatively.

“No Leah, you wanted that cock, you take it.” I grabbed her hair and pushed her up and down Jacob’s shaft. He rested a hand on the back of her neck, so I could focus on her ass. I grabbed her hips and stood back to push into her hard and fast.

“Damn,” Chris said.

“Yeah, with this one, you have to be sure she feels it.” I spanked her, alternating buttocks as if galloping her onward. “How’s that cocksucking, Jacob?”

Jacob looked up, his hands on Leah’s temples. “Feels awesome,” he said, laughing.

“Hold ‘er steady, then, we’re taking ‘er home.” I was having a hell of a good time. I knew Leah had gone pretty far into herself, but we’d get her back in time. As for Jacob, he was a natural wingman.

After an eternity of fucking Leah’s ass at my top speed, I slowed up. “Whew, man, I’m exhausted,” I said, pulling out. “Jacob, drop the blowjob for a second.” I grabbed Leah’s hair and pulled her head back. Jacob retrieved his cock and scooted over the bed’s edge.

I grabbed Leah’s hips and flipped her over. “Get a condom, Jacob. I need a break, so you’re taking over.”

“You’re serious?” Jacob looked from me to Leah.

“Yeah, I’m serious. Seriously beat. Thanks for pitching in.” I tugged the condom from my cock and threw it on the floor. It landed with a thwack.

Jacob opened a condom as I leaned in to Leah’s ear. “You don’t mind if the cute boy fucks you a little bit, do you, Leah?”

She shook her head, eyes closed. “Good girl,” I whispered. I wrapped a forearm around Leah’s head as Jacob spread her legs. He leaned forward on his extended arms and began to jackhammer.

The gentlemen moved closer to watch. I intended to give my cock a break, but I couldn't resist touching myself as he fucked her. Here were two gorgeous people who had just met, fucking in a circle of aroused naked men. And why?

Because I made it happen.

That realization filled me. If I had pockets at that moment, they might have been filled with Zuzu’s petals.

After a time, I checked the clock. We needed to wrap this up to keep on schedule.

“Okay, Jacob, I’m tapping you out.” I kissed Leah’s forehead and stood. “Let’s finish this.”

Jacob slowed his thrusts. “Oh, okay, you want me to stop?”

“Yes, but stay nearby,” I instructed, lubing a new condom. “Leah honey, stay with me.” She nodded, eyes closed, as I pushed into her. I stood with my knees apart and spread back her limber legs. “How’s that view, Eric?”

“Fuck man, that’s fucking hot.” Eric moved closer, tugging fast on his cock.

“You ready to soak her, man?” I asked, rocking back and forth in her.

“Yeah, you want me too?”

“Yeah, man, get it started.”

“Okay, man, I’ve going to pop.” Eric leaned over Leah’s breasts and beat himself furiously, “Shit, shit, shit,” he moaned, spraying Leah’s right breast and neck.

“Shit man, I going to cum,” Chris panted, pressing forward.

I smiled at Jacob. Like clockwork, I thought, as Chris unloaded on Leah’s ribcage.

Timothy and Jeremy were almost simultaneous. The others lined up to make their contributions. Bill kept us waiting for a bit as we offered encouragement.

“C’mon man, bust that nut,” Timothy said, his eyes on Bill’s cock.

“Yeah, I’m gonna cover her . . .” I realized this was the first thing Bill had said all night.

“Do it man, give that slut what she needs.”

Bill pressed his hips forward and grunted. His heavy drops splashed like petals landing in the puddle on Leah’s body.

“Fucking a’, dude,” Eric laughed. “That’s too damn hot.”

“Okay gentlemen, nicely done.” I pulled out and walked around to Leah’s face. I kissed her cheek. “You did very well, pretty. Now I’m going to clean you up. Don’t move.”

I left to retrieve a warm washcloth. The gentlemen tidied up with tissues. Jacob stood watching. He started to remove the condom still on his cock.

I looked up from washing Leah. “Hey, why don’t you fuck her, very gently? That would be nice.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, let’s treat her sweetly. She’s worked very hard.”

Jacob nodded and slowly entered her. Leah moaned softly, as if she now felt him for the first time.

Leah’s belly glistened with the sheen of emulsified semen. The gentlemen each took a moment to thank Leah.

She was alert now, eyes wide open. “Well, thank you, guys. That was really nice.”

“’Nice’ doesn’t begin to describe it,” Eric marveled. “You are smoking.”

“Thanks.” Leah smiled and turned her attention to Jacob. “I especially like this one.”

“Me too.” I put my arm on Jacob’s waist and kissed his neck. “You two take care; I’m going to show out the fellows.” I grabbed my clothes and went to join the men in the living room.

When I returned to the bedroom, Leah and Jacob were stretched out on the bed. They laughed as they talked.

I took off my shirt. “Did you notice the time? We broke the forty-five minute mark, but just barely.”

Jacob looked at the clock. “Are you serious? That wasn’t even an hour, huh?”

“Like clockwork,” Leah nodded.

“Yeah, like clockwork.” I pulled off my shorts. “So what do you think? You two want to break and have drinks, or should we just fuck some more?”

Leah looked to Jacob, then back to me. “Can’t you just make the decisions?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” Jacob shrugged.

I smiled.