Mitzi and Emma pulled on underwear, jeans, bras and tops. I reached for a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.
For the moment, we traded nudity for propriety.
We preferred to be dressed as Apollo’s orgy assembled.
It was already past ten, and we knew people would begin to arrive within the hour. We could leave Apollo to greet his guests. It was his responsibility to put people at ease and make introductions. It was his job to encourage his friends to initiate the party by retreating to the bedrooms.
That’s our agreement. He recruits and supervises his biweekly party of black and Latin couples. I provide the place and help to supervise.
Apollo and I both participate.
But for now, the girls and I had a little time to relax on the terrace. Mitzi craved a cigarette. I offered bourbons.
Emma sent us ahead, saying she would join us shortly; first, she wanted to chat a bit with Apollo.
It was the Friday before my birthday, just a couple of hours into my week of wall-to-wall sex. Already, Mitzi and Emma had gone from being strangers to sex partners to pals.
Along the way, Emma had dommed her first woman.
Not a bad start, I thought.
“Are you smarting?” I asked Mitzi as she took her drink.
“A little,” she said, exhaling smoke. She nodded towards Emma in the other room. “There’s no way that was the first beating she’s given.”
“She says it was,” I smiled, stealing a cigarette from her package.
“I dunno, Jefferson. She’s too good to be new to this.”
“Well then, she is a natural talent, either as a dom or as a liar.”
“Are you talking about me?” Emma said from the doorway.
I looked around. “You think you are the God damned center of the universe,” I chided, blowing smoke in her direction.
“I just know when I am the most interesting person in a room,” she replied. She nodded to Mitzi. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Of course,” Mitzi nodded back, with mannered courtesy.
I was more than happy to be the shared target of their barbs.
Yet Mitzi was not content to enjoy jokes at my expense. She had done that plenty of times in the past. She would have ample time for that in the future.
She now had new quarry.
Emma, now here in the flesh, could corroborate or dispute the veracity of my telling of the times I had been with her.
“So, Emma, how do you know Jefferson?”
Emma told her how I had met her “son” Carl at a male orgy at my place. That chance encounter had led Emma and I to correspond and then, to meet.
“Ah, yes, I believe Jefferson has told me that story,” Mitzi nodded, smiling. “And so the two of you got together.”
Emma nodded. Her gaze fell to the street below.
“That Jefferson can be pretty persuasive!” Mitzi laughed.
“Yes, it was like pulling teeth,” I interjected. I took another drag.
Mitzi knows she skates on thin ice with her interrogations. I don’t enjoy having my facts checked.
Still, as a writer, I am accustomed to the process of editorial inquiry. If I strive to be honest and transparent, then I open myself to scrutiny.
I can endure it—to a point.
“I gather you two have had some fun . . .” Mitzi began.
Emma smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Did you really pick up boys for a bukkake party?” Mitzi asked.
“Hmm mmm. Well, Jefferson found the boys.”
“I dunno,” Mitzi said, flicking her ashes. “I always think I might like that, but then I chicken out. Were you into it?”
Emma looked at me. “Yeah, the boys were pretty hot. I was surprised they all came at once, though.”
“Yeah, me too,” I nodded. I took another drag, catching Mitzi’s eyes. “And hell yeah, the boys were fucking cute. What’s the point otherwise?”
“Yes, and not obnoxious, like Navy boy,” Emma said.
“I know,” I winced. “Sorry about that one. He was handsome, though.”
“Yeah, if you like obnoxious Navy boys.”
“I found his machismo rather amusing . . .,” I began.
“Wait, what is this story?” Mitzi sat forward.
“Well . . .,” I began.
“No, I was asking Emma,” Mitzi said, putting a hand on my knee.
I looked at Emma. She caught my eye. I took another drag.
My lips were sealed. It was her tale to tell.
Emma looked ahead. “Well, I think it started because I told Jefferson I like to be a tease. He claimed he wasn’t into that. ‘Cause he’s a liar!” Emma hit me on the foot.
“Be nice,” I admonished.
“Go on,” Mitzi said, stamping out her cigarette stub. She reached for another.
“So, anyway, Jefferson had this idea that he would watch me tease a boy. We would tie him to a chair, so he couldn’t do anything.”
“He was nude, of course,” I added. “We all were.”
“Wait, who’s ‘we all?,’” Mitzi asked, shaking her hand to extinguish a match.
“Well, the Navy guy and me, and Shelby and Jefferson,” Emma said.
“Wait, you met Shelby?” Mitzi said.
“Yes, she was there,” Emma said, looking at me.
Mitzi slapped my knee.
She sat back suddenly, and looked down at the street.
“Go on,” she said.
Emma kept my eye.
“This wasn’t the original plan, of course,” I began, “As Shelby is over the whole group sex thing . . .”
“I was asking Emma,” Mitzi said, her brown eyes glowering in my direction.
“Well,” Emma began a little carefully. She allowed her drawl to slow, so that she could weigh the impact of her words. “That’s true, I think she came early that night, and we started late.”
“There was an unintended overlap,” I nodded.
“Yeah,” Emma said. “Though she kinda jumped in.”
“Or she was pulled in,” I said. “She says I encouraged her when she was reticent. She had only planned to watch.”
“That sounds right,” Emma said.
“Watch what?” Mitzi asked.
“Oh, watch me tease the Navy guy, you know, tied to his chair.”
“But other things happened?” Mitzi asked.
“Sure!” Emma laughed. “I mean, the three of us fooled around.”
“And not the Navy guy?” Mitzi asked, puffing.
“No, we made him watch. No one wanted to touch him, really.”
Mitzi slapped my leg again, hard.
“Hey, watch it!” I said. “That fucking hurt.”
“Good!” Mitzi said. She tossed her hair and took a moment to compose herself. “Why don’t I already know this?”
Emma stared at the street below.
“Because it was a secret,” I taunted.
“Asshole,” Mitzi snarled, just over a whisper.
I shrugged. “Look, I just haven’t got around to telling you everything, okay? It’s no mystery I do these things. I just can’t always report them in a timely way—not that I am required to do so.”
“Look, Jefferson,” Mitzi began. “You know that isn’t the issue. I don’t care who you fuck. It’s just . . . “ Mitzi clenched her fists. “Urgh!”
I knew the issue. We’d certainly talked about it many times before.
Every relationship has its balancing acts.
All of my relationships are grounded in a basic understanding: I am bisexual and I have sex with other people—lots and lots of other people.
I am not ashamed to be the easiest lay in Manhattan.
For some, that is not acceptable. So it’s good they know upfront that I am not for them. I bid them farewell.
For some, that’s fine, but they don’t want the details. I spare the details.
For some, that’s not only fine, it’s hot as hell. They want in. I bring them in.
For some on the inside, God is in the details. They want to know everything, and they want to know it first. They don’t want to read about it in a blog or to hear about it through the grapevine.
Mitzi falls square in the final category. She wants to be there for the good stuff, and if she isn’t, she wants to hear all about it from me.
She gets miffed when that is not the case.
I know this. She knows this.
It wasn’t a fight we needed to have in front of Emma.
“Well, I feel rude,” I said, standing. I kissed Mitzi’s cheek. She turned away. “Let’s talk about this later. We should check on the progress of this orgy. Shall we?”
“Jefferson . . . ,” Mitzi began.
“Later, okay?”
“Fine, I’ll finish this cigarette and join you.” Mitzi avoided my eyes.
“Mind if I borrow one?” Emma asked.
“Of course,” Mitzi smiled. “Help yourself. Here, take Jefferson’s seat, next to me.” She turned to me. “Ta ta, Jefferson.”
Emma and Mitzi settled in for girl talk.
I hadn’t anticipated that maneuver.
Damn, that Emma was smart. Every bit as smart as Mitzi.
“See you inside,” I smiled.
I swear to God, I thought. Mitzi collects all the evidence.
She will be a goldmine to my future biographer.
Inside, the living room was dark, reduced to a few candles. Couples were paired up in low conversation. Usher was playing on the stereo, a little too loudly. I turned it down.
I strolled to the bedrooms.
One couple fucked as a dressed man watched, stroking his exposed cock.
The real action unfolded in the other bedroom.
A pile of bodies rubbed one another in various stages of undress. A few people stood, watching as a fully dressed woman went down on another woman, wearing only a t-shirt.
I leaned against a wall and watched for a while before feeling hands around my waist.
“Jefferson, I’m sorry,” Mitzi whispered in my ear.
“Shhh,” I rested my hand on hers. “You did nothing wrong. I’m sorry you had to hear that story from someone else.”
“Yeah, I hate that. I always want to know from you.”
“I know, and that’s fair.” I took her hand to my lips. “It’s just that, you know, there’s just so much to tell . . .”
She slapped my chest. “Don’t be an asshole.”
I turned. “I’m teasing, I know. I am sorry. It’s hard to stay ahead of things, you know.” I kissed her. “My bad.”
She kissed me. “I want to break up with you,” she whispered.
“You should,” I whispered back.
“Jefferson?”
“Yes, Mitzi?”
She looked over my shoulder. “Are there Nubian lesbians in that room?”
I looked back. “Hmm, I’m afraid so. It’s a big pile up.”
“Jefferson, I want to watch that with you.”
“It’s a good show,” I nodded. “But I want to check on Emma before we get too involved.”
“I just left her,” Mitzi said, looking back. “She’s fine.”
“ I know, but it’s her first party at my place. I want to be responsible.”
“Jefferson . . . ,” she began.
I kissed her. “And then we’ll come back for the Nubian lesbians, I promise.”
I took Mitzi’s hand and led her to the kitchen. We stopped at the door.
Emma was kissing a tall handsome man I had never seen before.
Her eyes were closed.
The man withdrew, spinning her in his large hands.
She complied with the guidance of his touch.
His hands roamed her torso, fixated on the prize breasts beneath her top. He lowered his face to touch them with his cheek.
“She’s fine,” Mitzi said, tugging my hand. “Let’s go.”
“Shh.” I put a finger to my lips.
Emma was deep inside her eyelids as the man lifted her shirt over her head.
He unclasped her bra effortlessly with one hand, allowing it to fall to the floor.
Emma lifted her neck slightly. He lowered his lips to her nipples.
Another woman entered the kitchen. Apparently indifferent to the necking couple, she walked to the counter and began to mix a drink.
Without looking up from Emma’s breasts, the man reached back and took the passing woman into his grip. She was unfazed, pouring as he fondled her thighs through her jeans.
“Well, hot damn,” I murmured. “I suppose Emma is doing just fine.”
“Evidently. So can we please see the Nubian lesbians?” Mitzi cooed, her cheek finding my shoulder. “Please?”
“Yeah, let’s do that,” I agreed. My eyes left Emma as the man unfastened her pants.
In the bedroom, we found things much as we left them. Only the positions had changed.
The clothed woman was kneeling on the floor, her mouth locked on pussy. Her hands held her quarry’s hips high in place. The woman in the t-shirt rested on her shoulders.
“Rested” is not the right word. She squirmed and moaned loudly as her cunt was expertly turned inside out and handed back to her as an origami swan.
I spotted a free space on the futon.
“Come here,” I whispered to Mitzi, tugging her hand. I undressed. Mitzi followed suit.
We were the only nude people in the room.
Funny thing about the Nubians. The sex is very hot, but generally only partly nude. The men, in particular, are quick to zip up once business is concluded.
I once watched a fellow fuck the shit out of his girlfriend. I was nude, resting between rounds.
Once he came, he pulled up his pants and glanced my way.
“You crazy, man,” he laughed. “Sitting there naked and shit.”
He had just torn a new hole in his girlfriend’s colon in a room full of people, and I was crazy for being nude.
Different strokes.
If I was going to watch a hot lesbian scene with Mitzi, of course I wanted us nude.
The clothed woman moved in for the kill, pushing down on as she devoured the woman in the t-shirt. She burrowed her on the floor against the bed frame.
I leaned forward and whispered to the hapless victim, “Do you want a pillow?”
She was out of her mind with ecstasy.
“Huh?” She never opened her eyes.
I gently slid my hand under her neck. I lifted.
“Here, baby.”
She lifted her head. I slid a pillow into place.
“Thank yo . . . uh!” she grunted.
“Of course.” I pecked her cheek.
I leaned next to Mitzi. “That is so sweet,” I whispered.
“That is so hot,” she replied. “They were doing this before we checked on Emma, and we’ve been back, like, twenty minutes. Does that woman breath?”
“Circular breathing, that’s the trick,” I whispered in response. “Good for playing brass and eating pussy. Speaking of, bend over that railing and let me fuck you.”
Mitzi nodded, almost absentmindedly as she watched. “Sure, Jefferson,” she said, her eyes on the carpet munching transpiring on my floor. She leaned forward and raised her ass to me.
I rolled a condom on my cock and pressed a palm into her lower back.
I guided myself into her familiar passage.
She pushed back into me as I dove in deep.
The feeling of myself inside Mitzi—this improved the view considerably.
Emma appeared at the door for a moment, wearing only her jeans. She peered into the darkness and spotted a section of unclaimed bed. Stepping over the lesbian limbs, she made her way to sit.
She was soon sucking Apollo and his cousin, Miller.
They both wore t-shirts. Miller wore his prescription sunglasses. He was blind in a room with candles, but he sure looked cool.
Across the room, a man had opened his trousers to allow his girlfriend to blow him.
He noticed the lovely brunette at the end of my cock, moaning as she took a slow pounding, her eyes on marathon pussy eating.
He pulled out from his girlfriend without a glance and made his way to Mitzi’s face.
He shoved his cock at her mouth.
She turned away.
He moved.
She turned.
“She’s not into it, friend,” I said, spelling out the obvious.
He stood for a moment, jerking as we fucked, then returned to his girlfriend’s mouth.
I slapped Mitzi’s ass. She turned to me and smiled.
I rolled my eyes. Some people, huh? I thought.
She nodded, then gave her eyes back to the lesbians.
I began to wish we were timing them. There must be a world record for eating pussy, and our girls must be pushing the envelope.
All those blowjobs among the spectators had me wanting one as well. I spanked Mitzi again, then pulled out.
I fell back on the pillows and tore off the condom.
Mitzi looked over at me.
She knew what I wanted.
But she also knew what she wanted.
She shook her head, teasing me, as she turned and lowered her pussy to my thigh.
She wanted to “high school” me.
Back when Mitzi was seventeen, she got off by rubbing her clit on her boyfriend’s thigh. It was safe and effective, and worked whether or not there were clothes involved.
She calls this “high schooling,” and it remains her failsafe.
As she rubbed one off on my leg, I toyed with her hair and smiled into her eyes.
Emma came over and sat near my shoulder.
We looked up and grinned at her. It was nice to check in with our solo voyager.
I pulled Emma’s face into a kiss.
My fingers pinched a nipple.
I could feel Mitzi ramp up her grinding as she watched.
I also felt a mouth on my cock.
I pulled back from Emma and looked down.
Consuela was blowing me.
I didn’t even know she had arrived. But here she was, naked, like us, and sucking my cock by way of greeting.
I grinned and took Emma’s breast into my mouth.
My evening began with a threesome with Emma and Mitzi. Now here I was with them and Consuela as well.
Happy birthday to me.
Mitzi came, nice and loud.
Emma was soon distracted by Miller, back for more on his blowjob.
I pet Mitzi, and looked at Consuela.
“Well, hi there,” I said.
“Oh,” she smiled, taking my cock from her mouth. “You noticed I was here.”
“Yes, you do know how to get a boy’s attention. How’ve you been, you?”
“Pretty good, busy with the holidays, but the usual.” She stroked my cock as we spoke.
Mitzi watched, grinding my thigh slowly.
“Yeah, I hear you,” I nodded. “Hey, you want to eat Mitzi while I fuck you?”
Mitzi suppressed a giggle.
Consuela looked at her. “Yeah, I’d like that. About damn time I got laid—this is the first time since the new year.”
“That’s two weeks,” I exclaimed, sitting up. Emma dropped her hand from my chest. “And that’s a crying shame.”
“Don’t I know it,” Consuela agreed.
I excused myself as I took my leg from Mitzi.
She lay back on my pillows.
Consuela moved forward to crouch over the pussy she was preparing to lick. She looked back as I took position behind her, opening a condom package.
“You been okay?” she asked.
“Me? Sure, I’m fine.” I rested one hand on her ass as the other guided my cock into her. I thrust gently in and back. “Life’s pretty good.”
“Ummm, that’s good,” she sighed. “Really good.” Consuela turned to focus her attentions on Mitzi’s clit.
I enjoyed my cock in her, the feel of her soft, dark flesh, the strength of her body.
Mitzi had her eyes on mine as I dug in on Consuela. I know that she likes it fast and hard, good and solid, big on delivery, spare the sentiment.
Miller and Emma watched as Mitzi groaned.
Consuela licks pussy as well as the next girl, especially when she is taking a sound fucking. I’m sure Mitzi enjoyed that.
But I knew she also got off watching me fuck Consuela.
Every relationship has its balancing acts.
Mitzi likes sharing hot sexual situations with me, even as she wrestles with the green-eyed monster when that means sharing me with others.
Earlier that night, she was uncomfortable watching me with Emma. She knows I see Emma one on one. She knows I like Emma. She couldn’t help but be jealous.
Now, she watched me fuck Consuela. It got her hot.
Of course, I like Consuela, and she likes me fine. But I don’t see her one on one. We check in with one another at parties and we fuck.
It’s social.
And that’s different.
Later that night, we came across Consuela treating a man to a lap dance. He was in his boxers, jerking under the waistband. When she tried to touch his cock, he brushed her off, saying he was “sensitive.” I suppose he was afraid of premature ejaculation.
“You look like you are having fun,” I said, kissing her as she wiggled her ass above his thighs.
“Hmm mmmm, very much.” She leaned forward to suck my cock.
I looked at Mitzi and shrugged. “Here we go.”
She grinned.
I tapped Consuela on the shoulder and twirled my finger in the air, suggesting she turn around.
She did so, pivoting her body at the hips, and lowering her tits to the man’s face.
I fingered her wet clit, slipping in a finger.
My thumb went to her asshole.
She took it with ease.
I put my fingers in deep, squeezing them together inside her.
No complaints from Consuela; she was content with my efforts either way.
Fine then, I thought, tearing open a condom. I guess I’ll fuck her ass.
I lubed her hole and my shaft. She opened her stance and raised her ass, still focused on the lap dance she gave to her sensitive man.
I stood on my toes, holding my head to her hole.
She lifted up into me.
I pressed down.
I passed her sphincter, shallow at first.
She pushed back.
I was in.
I’m a very considerate ass fucker. I’ve been fucked. I know it can be intense.
But Consuela pushed back on me like a prison bitch in heat.
She pounded her ass back on my cock like it was the last taste of heaven she would get before the brimstone.
I was still on my toes.
I grabbed her hips and pounded down, deep and hard.
She pushed back, as if to ask: that’s all you got?
I rammed deeper, harder.
I gritted my teeth.
I fucked that damned ass.
She wriggled. She moaned a bit.
I looked at Mitzi.
She likes to see my “mean fuck face,” as she puts it. She likes to watch me go all out.
“God damn . . . ,” I said.
“That’s hot, Jefferson.”
“Yeah, it is . . .” I began.
I grabbed hands full of flesh.
I pulled Consuela’s body to mine. My rhythm, my time. I fucked her tough and without remorse. I fucked her the way doms do when they mean to say: this ass is mine.
My eyesight narrowed to pinholes.
She pushed back, dancing on my cock. This ass is yours, her body told me. Is this the best you can do with it?
I fucked up a cold hard sweat, then pulled out.
I staggered back, then stepped forward to backhand her ass. Two times, hard.
I pulled off the condom and threw it at her feet.
She never looked back.
“Come on, Mitzi, let’s take a break,” I said, beaten by a strong-willed ass.
As we walked away, Mitzi admired my disdainful slaps at the end. “That was so hot, the way you swatted her,” she began.
“She barely noticed,” I said, wiping my neck. “I was fucking her ass, you know. She took like a hot knife in butter.”
“Were you really?” Mitzi tittered, slipping a hand in my arm. “I had no idea you were in her ass.”
“I’d like to think she noticed,” I replied.
We caught up with Emma.
“It’s so frustrating,” she said. “Here I am at my first sex party at your place, and on my period, so I can’t do anything.”
“Not do anything?” I teased. “I saw you giving, like, what? Five blowjobs? And I wasn’t always looking.”
She shrugged.
“That counts, Emma,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I only fucked Jefferson,” Mitzi commiserated. “So I guess we both had a slow night.”
“Yeah, and how many times did you cum tonight? Never mind our threesome earlier?”
Mitzi shrugged. “I dunno, twelve?”
I laughed. “Give me a slow night any time.”
I circulated with the other partygoers as things wound down.
I realized that the woman in the t-shirt, who took history’s longest pussy licking, was Chocolate. (Don’t blame me, it’s her self-chosen nom de partouse.) She is a Nubian regular; I was surprised I didn’t recognize her.
“Well, I have these new extensions,” she twirled her hair, smiling. That was all it took. I’d know that smile anywhere.
I smiled back. “That was some serious pussy licking you took, Chocolate.”
“Pretty serious, I guess so,” she laughed, prancing on her naked legs. She was like a filly at a hootenanny. “She was just, ummmm, so good.”
I always like talking with her.
She is a straight girl with a boyfriend, she tells me. She gets all the dick she wants at home.
She comes to this party to get some girls.
She’s a beauty. She always gets her girls.
Never any sign of the boyfriend.
I ran into Miller, loading up on bourbon at the bar.
“How’s it going, Miller? We didn’t have much of a chance to talk.”
“Yeah.” He took a deep gulp.
I paused.
“Did you have fun?”
“Yeah,” he repeated. His eyes were ciphers behind his sunglasses.
“Well, good to see you, as always,” I said, patting his shoulder.
“Yeah, I got to get to work,” he said, swallowing another glass. It was like he was forcing back his medicine.
“What, at this hour? What do you do?”
He took another gulp. “Cab driver.”
“Well,” I winced into his shades. “Be careful out there.”
He raised his glass and downed another shot.
I met Apollo at the door.
“Nice party,” I said.
“Yeah, it was a good one,” he nodded. “You and Mitzi, you are looking good.”
“Oh, thanks,” I grinned.
“And damn, that girl Emily is the shit, man.”
“Emily?” I looked around. “Wow, did I meet her?”
Apollo laughed. “You were all up in that shit when I got here, man.”
“Oh, Emma!” I pointed a finger. “You need to learn the names of the girls you put your dick in, Apollo.”
“Yeah, Emma. So she has my four one one.”
“Hopefully she has your name right too, stud. Take care of Miller, okay?”
“Yeah, he’s my ride, we’re cool.”
“Great.”
Everyone was gone.
The cleaning could wait until tomorrow.
I gave Emma blankets and kissed her good night.
Mitzi changed the sheets on my bed.
It was after three as Emma fell asleep to the sound of Mitzi’s orgasms in the next room.
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Sunday, March 19, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
. . . Go
Mitzi and Emma sat on the couch.
I sat in a nearby chair, my feet in Mitzi's lap.
We exchanged pleasantries over drinks.
Emma was funny, finding a punch line to every thread of conversation.
I was laughing.
As I traded joke with Emma, my eyes were on Mitzi's.
She laughed at all the right places, but she was clearly wrestling with trepidations.
Mitzi was curious to meet Emma. She wanted to uncover the mystery of my secret boyfriend.
Now she was seated between the two of us. She could see that Emma was attractive, charming and funny. I laughed at all her jokes. I clearly liked her.
I know Mitzi's mind.
What's not to like about this girl, she was thinking.
Mitzi had to worry: would her boyfriend's secret boyfriend become his new girlfriend?
I wanted to set her mind at ease.
I wanted her to relax.
After all, Emma was here as much for her as for me.
"Well," I said, glancing at the clock. "We have about an hour and a half before the orgy begins. I think we need to get Mitzi naked."
Over Mitzi's shoulder, Emma nodded enthusiastically.
"I'm not sure," Mitzi hedged, looking back at Emma. "Would it be okay if I just, you know . . . watched the two of you first?"
I looked at Emma.
"I have no problem with that," I said.
"Oh, me either," Emma smiled.
“Let’s move to the bedroom then, shall we?” I suggested, standing.
Mitzi may have noticed how confidently Emma led the way.
I followed, holding Mitzi’s hand.
“I’m scared, Jefferson,” she whispered.
“I’ll take care of you,” I replied, squeezing lightly.
Emma stood beside her bed, as she had on the night we met . . .
“Mitzi, why don’t you take a seat by the window?” I offered, “While I unwrap Emma.”
Mitzi sat, her eyes on mine.
I smiled at her, then took my eyes away.
I turned to face Emma.
Our blue eyes.
I kissed her gently, languishing in the texture of her lips against mine.
My hands held her hair, so soft and fine.
I could feel Mitzi’s eyes calling to me, wishing for me to look back at her, to reassure her.
But not yet.
I pulled back and began to tug at Emma’s shirt.
She raised her arms. “You think you can handle the bra strap, Jefferson, or do you need me to do it?”
“I really think I need the experience, Emma,” I said, pulling her shirt free. I tossed it aside. “But thank you for the offer.”
“Anytime,” she said, dropping her arms to her side.
I reached around her.
I stuck my tongue in my cheek.
“Okay, now let me see,” I said, my fingers fumbling with the clasps. “Okay, there’s one . . “
“You are pathetic,” she teased.
“No, wait, that’s two . . .”
“Do you need me to . . . “
“Ha! Three! I did it!”
“Yeah, Jefferson, you’ve got mad skills.”
I pulled her bra forward and away from her body. It joined her shirt on the floor.
I cupped her large breasts in my hands. I hefted each in turn.
“You know, if I were a tit man, I’d really admire these,” I said.
“If you were any kind of man at all, you would know my tits are awesome,” she retorted.
My lips were too busy on a nipple to sustain our repartee.
My tongue traced the soft flesh of her belly. I fought the impulse to move quickly, as my ardor was building.
We were, after all, putting on a show for a private audience.
I dropped to my knees. I licked the seam of her jeans.
I made a note to spend some time on her jeans at some point. I recalled a girlfriend in high school who only gradually, after months of foreplay, allowed me to removed her jeans to lick her pussy.
All those months, I had licked and chewed her jeans until she came.
The night she relented, I unzipped her with my teeth.
No time for that on this night, however. The orgy was due to begin soon.
I took the waistband in my fingers. I raised my eyes to Emma’s as I kneeled before her.
Her face was still, but I knew she was thinking of our secret.
Only we knew that she was dominating me behind closed doors.
I unfastened her jeans.
I lowered them to her thighs, then tugged them town to her feet.
I held her hand to steady her as she stepped out of her pants.
I pushed them to the side.
I bent to kiss her calves, kissing my way to her thighs.
Gentle butterflies for a pretty girl.
I arrived to her panties, small and dark black against her pale skin.
I tongued her crotch.
“I wish I didn’t have my period,” she said, her fingers in my hair. “Because I would love to fuck your face, little girl.”
Careful, I thought to her. Don’t let that slip.
I stood. “Let’s leave the panties on, then.”
I kissed her again, once more long, once more languid.
Two brown eyes silently calling my name.
Not yet.
Kissing Emma, I pulled at my shirt.
I released her lips long enough to take the shirt over my head.
I tossed it aside and returned to her lips hungry, as if we’d been denied to one another for an age.
I pulled at my pajama bottoms.
They fell to the floor.
I kicked them aside.
I pressed my cock hard into her as I grabbed her up in my arms.
My hands pressed her to me.
Closer, God damn it, Emma, my mind screamed to hers. I fucking want you close to me.
I’m scared, Jefferson, the brown eyes pleaded.
Not yet.
“Let’s move to the bed, Emma,” I whispered into her mouth.
“Okay,” she whispered into mine.
I lingered, unable to give up her kiss.
“Jefferson . . . “
“Just . . . wait, okay?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” she smiled, taking in my kiss.
My forearms pressed into her back.
It was frustrating how far away she seemed.
The only way to get her closer was to be on top of her.
I stepped back one long step.
“Okay, get on the bed, please.” I pointed to her target, irritated, impatient.
“Finally,” she sighed. The bed was a step away.
She took her sweet time covering that distance in a slow sashay.
You are fucking playing with fire, Emma, I thought to her.
Now, please, the brown eyes begged.
Not yet.
Please!
No.
I gently lowered my body onto Emma.
I stroked the blonde strands away from her face.
I smiled into her eyes.
I ran a finger across her full, pink lips. My lips followed the path of my finger.
My hips pressed into hers.
My cock moved against her labia, pressing cotton into her body.
We were so at ease with one another, our rapport, our touches, our feel, the way we could, to put it plainly, make love.
Now.
I turned to the brown eyes.
Mitzi was sunk into her chair.
I’ve seen a picture of her as a young girl.
She was sitting on a very large chair in her parent’s home. She was holding a thick blue blanket, sucking her thumb.
I saw an adorable dark-haired cherub.
“Look,” she had said. “I have the proof: I was an ugly baby.”
“That is not an ugly baby,” I said, surprised by her sudden sadness.
“Are you kidding? Look at those thick brows, those fat cheeks.”
“How old are you in this picture, Mitzi? Three?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “Too young to get my eyebrows threaded.”
“Your mama sure did a number on you,” I said, handing back the photo.
“Yep, she sure did.”
As I lay across the warm voluptuousness of pretty Emma, I looked to the chair and saw that scared little girl, ugly, alone, frightened.
Now, brown eyes.
Now.
I rolled over, and with surprising grace-for one never knows how these things will go-I landed in a crouch at Mitzi’s feet.
I rested a hand on her knee. I put my chin on my hand.
I smiled.
“No, Jefferson.” She shook her head. “No.”
I nodded. “Yes, Mitzi. Yes.”
I had driven to the very limits of her insecurities, her jealousy, her self doubt.
It was cruel, intentionally so.
Now, I had to drive her back.
Once she learns that path, she can walk it on her own.
I stood and took her hand.
I raised her into my kiss.
I ran my fingers through her thick black locks, that gorgeous tangle that frames her soulful face.
I took her velvety cheek in my palm.
I inhaled deeply, absorbing the rich vanilla of her skin, bringing her into my body.
Keeping her there.
Blue eyes watched us, taking notes.
My hand caressed her body through her clothes.
“I want these off,” I said.
“Yes, Jefferson.” Mitzi smiled a little.
“I want them off now, Mitzi.” I let a hint of sternness enter my voice.
“Yes, Jefferson.” She pulled her arms into her sleeves.
“All of it, now.” My voice was rising.
“Yes, Jefferson.” She moved more rapidly.
“I’m losing interest,” I said sharply. “I can easily return to Emma.”
“I’m hurrying, Jefferson . . . “ She trembled as she unfastened her jeans.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered.
Mitzi lowered her pants and hurried kicked aside the jeans.
She stood.
I put my hands on my hips.
She wriggled free of her panties, dropping them with her pants.
She stood again.
I smiled.
“Fuck, finally,” I scowled. “A man could grow a long beard waiting. Now, get on the bed, ass high.”
Mitzi suppressed a giggle. “Yes, Jefferson.”
Emma slide aside to make room.
“Actually, Emma,” I said, my voice now dripping with honey. “You should stand up and join me at the foot of the bed.”
“Oh, okay.”
She sat up, then stood beside me.
“This,” I said, my palms firm on Mitzi’s hips. “This is Mitzi’s ass.”
“So I see,” Emma grinned.
“Mitzi’s ass, this is Emma.”
“Pleased to meet you, Emma,” Mitzi squeaked.
“Now, we are going to beat Mitzi’s ass. But first, I need to give you a little tutorial. Remember what we learned in beat up class, Mitzi?”
“I sure do.”
“’Beat up class?’” Emma asked.
“Yes, ‘beat up class.’ That’s what Mitzi calls the session on BDSM we took at Babeland University. They called it ‘SM 101.’”
“Actually, ‘SM 201,’ Jefferson,” Mitzi corrected. “We got advanced placement.”
“Shut your fucking face!” I slapped her ass. “Shoot your mouth off and I’ll show you what that hole is for.”
Mitzi wriggled. “Yes, Jefferson.”
I spanked her again. “Don’t you fucking interrupt me.” Another slap.
Mitzi pulled her shoulders close. “Yes, Jefferson.”
“Good.” I rubbed her ass.
It was warming.
“Now, as I was saying,” I turned to Emma, again talking sweetly. “Here’s what you need to remember about Mitzi’s ass. Here, on her buttocks, is a fine place to spank. Go ahead, give her a spank.”
Emma raised a hand and landed it with a firm slap.
“Nice,” I nodded. “Again.”
Another slap.
“Unh,” Mitzi groaned.
I had to watch that response-I had more to say before we sent Mitzi off into the La La Land of subspace.
“Okay, Emma, very good. Now, here, just above Mitzi’s ass, is forbidden territory. You can’t strike here, as you might damage vital organs.”
“Oh, okay.” Emma’s brow was furrowed as she studied.
“Now, up here, on Mitzi’s shoulders, that’s a good strike zone. Nothing too hard up here, no strong blows, as it can hurt, but some well-placed whacks can really accentuate the main thrust of your beating.”
“Okay, that’s good to know.”
“All right. Now, before, when we spanked her, we went in hard and fast. That’s really not the best way to do it. Instead, you should tenderize the flesh. Give her light slaps, in quick succession. This brings the blood to the surface, which helps to spread the sensation and prevent undue bruises.”
“Hmm, maybe I should take notes.”
“No, Emma, that’s enough to get you started. Why don’t you tenderize Mitzi while I retrieve the arsenal.”
“What are you going to use, Jefferson?” Mitzi asked, raising up a bit.
I put my face in hers. “You fucking shut the fuck up, you God damned fuck hole!”
She pulled back, a little shocked. She breathed a moment and calmed.
“Yes, Jefferson.”
“You hear me?”
“Yes, Jefferson.”
I had done a fine job of putting her down. I needed to keep her down for the beating.
“Now, Emma,” I said, practically singing her name. “We’re going to use two implements. Here, this is a light whip, good for starting things up.” I lay it on the bed, handle toward Emma. I lifted another item.
“And this monster is a braided cat o’ nine tails.”
“You really hit her with that?”
“Yes Emma, I really do. Keep spanking, please.”
“Oh, right.” Emma returned to slapping Mitzi’s ass.
“Great work. You okay, Mitzi?”
“Yes, Jefferson.”
“Good. Then lets take this up a notch. Excuse me, Emma, let me take your place.” Emma moved aside. I stood perpendicular to Mitzi’s ass in a batter’s stance. “See how my feet are positioned? A good posture helps to deliver a firm blow. Like this.”
The slap echoed off the walls.
“Unh!”
Another.
“Unh!”
We could move faster now.
“Got that, Emma?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good. You try it.”
Emma stood in place, and looked down at her feet. She adjusted her stance.
“Good, Emma.”
She raised her arm high, as I had done.
“Good.”
She lowered it fast, delivering a strong wallop.
“Unh!”
“Good! Again.”
“Unh!”
This time, Emma got an echo.
“Excellent work, Emma, good listening. Now, step aside. I’m going to use the whip. And as I do so, I’ll be going faster and talking less. I want to focus on Mitzi’s ass. So watch closely.”
“Okay, Jefferson.” Emma stood aside.
I stood in place. Emma peered over my elbow at my target.
I looked back at her. “Honey, I need more room than that.”
“Oh, sorry.” She stepped back.
“Thanks.”
I picked up the small whip. I rubbed Mitzi’s back with my hands, warming her to my touch.
I caressed her ass as the whip lightly thrashed her back.
The whip chased my hand around her back, across her ass, to her shoulders. I make surprise forays to her forearm.
Mitzi breathed deeply.
I stood back, assuming my batter’s stance. I raised the whip high.
I looked at Emma. Her eyes met mine. I nodded.
Down came the whip.
“Unh!”
Three times more, one blow after another.
“Unh!”
I flourished the whip in the air, whooshing it back to her ass.
“Unh!”
Again, this time to the left.
“Unh!”
The right.
“Unh!”
I brought the whipping to a crescendo and then, without warning, stopped.
Mitzi shuddered.
I dropped the whip to the bed.
My hands caressed Mitzi’s ass.
I held her back, lowering my cheek to her shoulders.
“You okay, baby?”
I listened to her breathing. “Yes, Jefferson.”
“Good baby.”
I stood up.
“You need to check in regularly,” I said quietly to Emma.
“Okay.”
“It’s all about trust,” I said, picking up the cat o’ nine tails.
“Yes, I can see that.”
I lightly traced the cat along Mitzi’s back, again using my hand to guide the sensation.
I dropped the braids heavily onto her skin, allowing her to learn the feel of their knotty leather.
“I will only give a few strokes with this,” I said.
“Yes, Jefferson,” Mitzi breathed.
I took the stance. I raised my arm.
I looked at Emma. Her eyes were on mine.
I nodded.
The cat landed. Mitzi fell forward with a groan.
I touched her hips.
She breathed and returned to position.
The cat landed again. She stayed in place.
I waited as the sting subsided, as the blood rushed to her skin.
Then again. Again.
More blows followed, sure and steady.
And then I stopped.
I dropped the cat.
I caressed and kissed Mitzi's body.
I murmured soothing words.
I listened to her breathing calm.
The room was quiet.
I stood.
“Mitzi.”
“Yes, Jefferson?”
I looked at Emma. “I want the pretty girl to beat you.”
Emma nodded.
Mitzi adjusted her hips, as if they were making the decision for her.
She began to breath heavily. “Yes, Jefferson.”
“Good girl” I patted Mitzi’s ass.
“Nothing fancy,” I said to Emma quietly. “Just focus on Mitzi and her ass.”
I sat at the head of the bed. I leaned forward and kissed Mitzi’s hair. I stretched my legs along the sides of her body.
“I’ll be supervising from here,” I said to Emma. I took a fistful of Mitzi’s hair and yanked, raising her head. She gasped. “I’ll be watching as Mitzi sucks my cock.”
Mitzi’s surprise gave way to a smile
“Yes . . . Jefferson.”
I smiled at her. Such a pretty face she has. Especially now, radiant in her bliss.
I smiled as I shoved my cock in her mouth.
I was already aroused, yet my cock grew still larger on her tongue.
Her nostrils flared.
I nodded to Emma.
Emma's face was serious and focused as she took up the whip. She rubbed her hands on Mitzi's ass, getting intimate with her new subject.
I heard the first blow sound. Mitzi jumped forward, taking me deep.
"Nice," I said. "Again."
Emma delivered another blow. Mitzi opened her lips to breath around my cock.
I took another fistful of her hair.
"Let it go, let it go," I whispered. I looked up. "Now, Emma."
"Now" was just a word, just something to connect us all to the moment.
It was the last word I would utter for a while.
Emma drew deep into concentration, her vision constricted to the power of her hands and the responses of Mitzi's ass.
Mitzi's brown eyes were closed, as she fell inward, surrendering to the blows and the stimulation in her mouth.
I was drawn into pleasure rushing from my cock to my skull.
Mitzi had sucked my cock for nearly a year by this time, and she always had a fine blowjob. Lately, though, her throat has relaxed more, opening to me.
That night, I was deeper than ever, my head registering the ridges of her esophagus.
The three of us had slipped into a place where we were each connected to the other, yet each absorbed in our own bodies and minds.
We stayed there as long as we could.
We began to slip away as Mitzi's ass reached it's limits.
Emma put down her weapons and caressed the flesh she had reddened.
She slipped her fingers to feel Mitzi's wetness.
Mitzi opned her eyes, sighing into my cock.
I pet her hair, welcoming her back.
Emma was watching me fuck Mitzi, our lips tight on on another, when we heard a shout from the door.
"Yo, Jefferson, you back there?," Apollo called.
"Yeah, we're in the bedroom," I replied.
Apollo smiled as he stood in the door. "Course you are, man, you are all up in it."
On orgy nights, I leave the door open for Apollo. I'm usually involved in some pre-game activity.
"Hi, Apollo," Mitzi cooed. "So nice to see you."
"Nice to see you too," he replied, leaning in to kiss the woman I was fucking. He patted my back. "You doing well, Jefferson?"
"As well as can be expected," I allowed. "Apollo, this is Emma. Emma, Apollo organizes the Nubian parties, and tonight is a Nubian party."
Emma sat up and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Apollo. I've only heard good things."
"Yeah, well, I hope it's all good." He took her hand and kissed her cheek. His hand dropped to feel her hips. "So Jefferson, I'm going to set up for the party. Anything need doing?"
"I already have the candles and such out," I replied, still pushing my cock in and out of Mitzi. "But you may want to check on ice, and get the music going."
"Yeah, I burned some new CDs. Okay, let me get that going." He looked back at the door. "Y'all stay busy."
We laughed.
Emma's eyes followed Apollo to the door, taking in his athletic build.
She looked at us as he left.
"You know," she said, "Maybe I will stay for the party."
sex
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I sat in a nearby chair, my feet in Mitzi's lap.
We exchanged pleasantries over drinks.
Emma was funny, finding a punch line to every thread of conversation.
I was laughing.
As I traded joke with Emma, my eyes were on Mitzi's.
She laughed at all the right places, but she was clearly wrestling with trepidations.
Mitzi was curious to meet Emma. She wanted to uncover the mystery of my secret boyfriend.
Now she was seated between the two of us. She could see that Emma was attractive, charming and funny. I laughed at all her jokes. I clearly liked her.
I know Mitzi's mind.
What's not to like about this girl, she was thinking.
Mitzi had to worry: would her boyfriend's secret boyfriend become his new girlfriend?
I wanted to set her mind at ease.
I wanted her to relax.
After all, Emma was here as much for her as for me.
"Well," I said, glancing at the clock. "We have about an hour and a half before the orgy begins. I think we need to get Mitzi naked."
Over Mitzi's shoulder, Emma nodded enthusiastically.
"I'm not sure," Mitzi hedged, looking back at Emma. "Would it be okay if I just, you know . . . watched the two of you first?"
I looked at Emma.
"I have no problem with that," I said.
"Oh, me either," Emma smiled.
“Let’s move to the bedroom then, shall we?” I suggested, standing.
Mitzi may have noticed how confidently Emma led the way.
I followed, holding Mitzi’s hand.
“I’m scared, Jefferson,” she whispered.
“I’ll take care of you,” I replied, squeezing lightly.
Emma stood beside her bed, as she had on the night we met . . .
“Mitzi, why don’t you take a seat by the window?” I offered, “While I unwrap Emma.”
Mitzi sat, her eyes on mine.
I smiled at her, then took my eyes away.
I turned to face Emma.
Our blue eyes.
I kissed her gently, languishing in the texture of her lips against mine.
My hands held her hair, so soft and fine.
I could feel Mitzi’s eyes calling to me, wishing for me to look back at her, to reassure her.
But not yet.
I pulled back and began to tug at Emma’s shirt.
She raised her arms. “You think you can handle the bra strap, Jefferson, or do you need me to do it?”
“I really think I need the experience, Emma,” I said, pulling her shirt free. I tossed it aside. “But thank you for the offer.”
“Anytime,” she said, dropping her arms to her side.
I reached around her.
I stuck my tongue in my cheek.
“Okay, now let me see,” I said, my fingers fumbling with the clasps. “Okay, there’s one . . “
“You are pathetic,” she teased.
“No, wait, that’s two . . .”
“Do you need me to . . . “
“Ha! Three! I did it!”
“Yeah, Jefferson, you’ve got mad skills.”
I pulled her bra forward and away from her body. It joined her shirt on the floor.
I cupped her large breasts in my hands. I hefted each in turn.
“You know, if I were a tit man, I’d really admire these,” I said.
“If you were any kind of man at all, you would know my tits are awesome,” she retorted.
My lips were too busy on a nipple to sustain our repartee.
My tongue traced the soft flesh of her belly. I fought the impulse to move quickly, as my ardor was building.
We were, after all, putting on a show for a private audience.
I dropped to my knees. I licked the seam of her jeans.
I made a note to spend some time on her jeans at some point. I recalled a girlfriend in high school who only gradually, after months of foreplay, allowed me to removed her jeans to lick her pussy.
All those months, I had licked and chewed her jeans until she came.
The night she relented, I unzipped her with my teeth.
No time for that on this night, however. The orgy was due to begin soon.
I took the waistband in my fingers. I raised my eyes to Emma’s as I kneeled before her.
Her face was still, but I knew she was thinking of our secret.
Only we knew that she was dominating me behind closed doors.
I unfastened her jeans.
I lowered them to her thighs, then tugged them town to her feet.
I held her hand to steady her as she stepped out of her pants.
I pushed them to the side.
I bent to kiss her calves, kissing my way to her thighs.
Gentle butterflies for a pretty girl.
I arrived to her panties, small and dark black against her pale skin.
I tongued her crotch.
“I wish I didn’t have my period,” she said, her fingers in my hair. “Because I would love to fuck your face, little girl.”
Careful, I thought to her. Don’t let that slip.
I stood. “Let’s leave the panties on, then.”
I kissed her again, once more long, once more languid.
Two brown eyes silently calling my name.
Not yet.
Kissing Emma, I pulled at my shirt.
I released her lips long enough to take the shirt over my head.
I tossed it aside and returned to her lips hungry, as if we’d been denied to one another for an age.
I pulled at my pajama bottoms.
They fell to the floor.
I kicked them aside.
I pressed my cock hard into her as I grabbed her up in my arms.
My hands pressed her to me.
Closer, God damn it, Emma, my mind screamed to hers. I fucking want you close to me.
I’m scared, Jefferson, the brown eyes pleaded.
Not yet.
“Let’s move to the bed, Emma,” I whispered into her mouth.
“Okay,” she whispered into mine.
I lingered, unable to give up her kiss.
“Jefferson . . . “
“Just . . . wait, okay?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” she smiled, taking in my kiss.
My forearms pressed into her back.
It was frustrating how far away she seemed.
The only way to get her closer was to be on top of her.
I stepped back one long step.
“Okay, get on the bed, please.” I pointed to her target, irritated, impatient.
“Finally,” she sighed. The bed was a step away.
She took her sweet time covering that distance in a slow sashay.
You are fucking playing with fire, Emma, I thought to her.
Now, please, the brown eyes begged.
Not yet.
Please!
No.
I gently lowered my body onto Emma.
I stroked the blonde strands away from her face.
I smiled into her eyes.
I ran a finger across her full, pink lips. My lips followed the path of my finger.
My hips pressed into hers.
My cock moved against her labia, pressing cotton into her body.
We were so at ease with one another, our rapport, our touches, our feel, the way we could, to put it plainly, make love.
Now.
I turned to the brown eyes.
Mitzi was sunk into her chair.
I’ve seen a picture of her as a young girl.
She was sitting on a very large chair in her parent’s home. She was holding a thick blue blanket, sucking her thumb.
I saw an adorable dark-haired cherub.
“Look,” she had said. “I have the proof: I was an ugly baby.”
“That is not an ugly baby,” I said, surprised by her sudden sadness.
“Are you kidding? Look at those thick brows, those fat cheeks.”
“How old are you in this picture, Mitzi? Three?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “Too young to get my eyebrows threaded.”
“Your mama sure did a number on you,” I said, handing back the photo.
“Yep, she sure did.”
As I lay across the warm voluptuousness of pretty Emma, I looked to the chair and saw that scared little girl, ugly, alone, frightened.
Now, brown eyes.
Now.
I rolled over, and with surprising grace-for one never knows how these things will go-I landed in a crouch at Mitzi’s feet.
I rested a hand on her knee. I put my chin on my hand.
I smiled.
“No, Jefferson.” She shook her head. “No.”
I nodded. “Yes, Mitzi. Yes.”
I had driven to the very limits of her insecurities, her jealousy, her self doubt.
It was cruel, intentionally so.
Now, I had to drive her back.
Once she learns that path, she can walk it on her own.
I stood and took her hand.
I raised her into my kiss.
I ran my fingers through her thick black locks, that gorgeous tangle that frames her soulful face.
I took her velvety cheek in my palm.
I inhaled deeply, absorbing the rich vanilla of her skin, bringing her into my body.
Keeping her there.
Blue eyes watched us, taking notes.
My hand caressed her body through her clothes.
“I want these off,” I said.
“Yes, Jefferson.” Mitzi smiled a little.
“I want them off now, Mitzi.” I let a hint of sternness enter my voice.
“Yes, Jefferson.” She pulled her arms into her sleeves.
“All of it, now.” My voice was rising.
“Yes, Jefferson.” She moved more rapidly.
“I’m losing interest,” I said sharply. “I can easily return to Emma.”
“I’m hurrying, Jefferson . . . “ She trembled as she unfastened her jeans.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered.
Mitzi lowered her pants and hurried kicked aside the jeans.
She stood.
I put my hands on my hips.
She wriggled free of her panties, dropping them with her pants.
She stood again.
I smiled.
“Fuck, finally,” I scowled. “A man could grow a long beard waiting. Now, get on the bed, ass high.”
Mitzi suppressed a giggle. “Yes, Jefferson.”
Emma slide aside to make room.
“Actually, Emma,” I said, my voice now dripping with honey. “You should stand up and join me at the foot of the bed.”
“Oh, okay.”
She sat up, then stood beside me.
“This,” I said, my palms firm on Mitzi’s hips. “This is Mitzi’s ass.”
“So I see,” Emma grinned.
“Mitzi’s ass, this is Emma.”
“Pleased to meet you, Emma,” Mitzi squeaked.
“Now, we are going to beat Mitzi’s ass. But first, I need to give you a little tutorial. Remember what we learned in beat up class, Mitzi?”
“I sure do.”
“’Beat up class?’” Emma asked.
“Yes, ‘beat up class.’ That’s what Mitzi calls the session on BDSM we took at Babeland University. They called it ‘SM 101.’”
“Actually, ‘SM 201,’ Jefferson,” Mitzi corrected. “We got advanced placement.”
“Shut your fucking face!” I slapped her ass. “Shoot your mouth off and I’ll show you what that hole is for.”
Mitzi wriggled. “Yes, Jefferson.”
I spanked her again. “Don’t you fucking interrupt me.” Another slap.
Mitzi pulled her shoulders close. “Yes, Jefferson.”
“Good.” I rubbed her ass.
It was warming.
“Now, as I was saying,” I turned to Emma, again talking sweetly. “Here’s what you need to remember about Mitzi’s ass. Here, on her buttocks, is a fine place to spank. Go ahead, give her a spank.”
Emma raised a hand and landed it with a firm slap.
“Nice,” I nodded. “Again.”
Another slap.
“Unh,” Mitzi groaned.
I had to watch that response-I had more to say before we sent Mitzi off into the La La Land of subspace.
“Okay, Emma, very good. Now, here, just above Mitzi’s ass, is forbidden territory. You can’t strike here, as you might damage vital organs.”
“Oh, okay.” Emma’s brow was furrowed as she studied.
“Now, up here, on Mitzi’s shoulders, that’s a good strike zone. Nothing too hard up here, no strong blows, as it can hurt, but some well-placed whacks can really accentuate the main thrust of your beating.”
“Okay, that’s good to know.”
“All right. Now, before, when we spanked her, we went in hard and fast. That’s really not the best way to do it. Instead, you should tenderize the flesh. Give her light slaps, in quick succession. This brings the blood to the surface, which helps to spread the sensation and prevent undue bruises.”
“Hmm, maybe I should take notes.”
“No, Emma, that’s enough to get you started. Why don’t you tenderize Mitzi while I retrieve the arsenal.”
“What are you going to use, Jefferson?” Mitzi asked, raising up a bit.
I put my face in hers. “You fucking shut the fuck up, you God damned fuck hole!”
She pulled back, a little shocked. She breathed a moment and calmed.
“Yes, Jefferson.”
“You hear me?”
“Yes, Jefferson.”
I had done a fine job of putting her down. I needed to keep her down for the beating.
“Now, Emma,” I said, practically singing her name. “We’re going to use two implements. Here, this is a light whip, good for starting things up.” I lay it on the bed, handle toward Emma. I lifted another item.
“And this monster is a braided cat o’ nine tails.”
“You really hit her with that?”
“Yes Emma, I really do. Keep spanking, please.”
“Oh, right.” Emma returned to slapping Mitzi’s ass.
“Great work. You okay, Mitzi?”
“Yes, Jefferson.”
“Good. Then lets take this up a notch. Excuse me, Emma, let me take your place.” Emma moved aside. I stood perpendicular to Mitzi’s ass in a batter’s stance. “See how my feet are positioned? A good posture helps to deliver a firm blow. Like this.”
The slap echoed off the walls.
“Unh!”
Another.
“Unh!”
We could move faster now.
“Got that, Emma?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good. You try it.”
Emma stood in place, and looked down at her feet. She adjusted her stance.
“Good, Emma.”
She raised her arm high, as I had done.
“Good.”
She lowered it fast, delivering a strong wallop.
“Unh!”
“Good! Again.”
“Unh!”
This time, Emma got an echo.
“Excellent work, Emma, good listening. Now, step aside. I’m going to use the whip. And as I do so, I’ll be going faster and talking less. I want to focus on Mitzi’s ass. So watch closely.”
“Okay, Jefferson.” Emma stood aside.
I stood in place. Emma peered over my elbow at my target.
I looked back at her. “Honey, I need more room than that.”
“Oh, sorry.” She stepped back.
“Thanks.”
I picked up the small whip. I rubbed Mitzi’s back with my hands, warming her to my touch.
I caressed her ass as the whip lightly thrashed her back.
The whip chased my hand around her back, across her ass, to her shoulders. I make surprise forays to her forearm.
Mitzi breathed deeply.
I stood back, assuming my batter’s stance. I raised the whip high.
I looked at Emma. Her eyes met mine. I nodded.
Down came the whip.
“Unh!”
Three times more, one blow after another.
“Unh!”
I flourished the whip in the air, whooshing it back to her ass.
“Unh!”
Again, this time to the left.
“Unh!”
The right.
“Unh!”
I brought the whipping to a crescendo and then, without warning, stopped.
Mitzi shuddered.
I dropped the whip to the bed.
My hands caressed Mitzi’s ass.
I held her back, lowering my cheek to her shoulders.
“You okay, baby?”
I listened to her breathing. “Yes, Jefferson.”
“Good baby.”
I stood up.
“You need to check in regularly,” I said quietly to Emma.
“Okay.”
“It’s all about trust,” I said, picking up the cat o’ nine tails.
“Yes, I can see that.”
I lightly traced the cat along Mitzi’s back, again using my hand to guide the sensation.
I dropped the braids heavily onto her skin, allowing her to learn the feel of their knotty leather.
“I will only give a few strokes with this,” I said.
“Yes, Jefferson,” Mitzi breathed.
I took the stance. I raised my arm.
I looked at Emma. Her eyes were on mine.
I nodded.
The cat landed. Mitzi fell forward with a groan.
I touched her hips.
She breathed and returned to position.
The cat landed again. She stayed in place.
I waited as the sting subsided, as the blood rushed to her skin.
Then again. Again.
More blows followed, sure and steady.
And then I stopped.
I dropped the cat.
I caressed and kissed Mitzi's body.
I murmured soothing words.
I listened to her breathing calm.
The room was quiet.
I stood.
“Mitzi.”
“Yes, Jefferson?”
I looked at Emma. “I want the pretty girl to beat you.”
Emma nodded.
Mitzi adjusted her hips, as if they were making the decision for her.
She began to breath heavily. “Yes, Jefferson.”
“Good girl” I patted Mitzi’s ass.
“Nothing fancy,” I said to Emma quietly. “Just focus on Mitzi and her ass.”
I sat at the head of the bed. I leaned forward and kissed Mitzi’s hair. I stretched my legs along the sides of her body.
“I’ll be supervising from here,” I said to Emma. I took a fistful of Mitzi’s hair and yanked, raising her head. She gasped. “I’ll be watching as Mitzi sucks my cock.”
Mitzi’s surprise gave way to a smile
“Yes . . . Jefferson.”
I smiled at her. Such a pretty face she has. Especially now, radiant in her bliss.
I smiled as I shoved my cock in her mouth.
I was already aroused, yet my cock grew still larger on her tongue.
Her nostrils flared.
I nodded to Emma.
Emma's face was serious and focused as she took up the whip. She rubbed her hands on Mitzi's ass, getting intimate with her new subject.
I heard the first blow sound. Mitzi jumped forward, taking me deep.
"Nice," I said. "Again."
Emma delivered another blow. Mitzi opened her lips to breath around my cock.
I took another fistful of her hair.
"Let it go, let it go," I whispered. I looked up. "Now, Emma."
"Now" was just a word, just something to connect us all to the moment.
It was the last word I would utter for a while.
Emma drew deep into concentration, her vision constricted to the power of her hands and the responses of Mitzi's ass.
Mitzi's brown eyes were closed, as she fell inward, surrendering to the blows and the stimulation in her mouth.
I was drawn into pleasure rushing from my cock to my skull.
Mitzi had sucked my cock for nearly a year by this time, and she always had a fine blowjob. Lately, though, her throat has relaxed more, opening to me.
That night, I was deeper than ever, my head registering the ridges of her esophagus.
The three of us had slipped into a place where we were each connected to the other, yet each absorbed in our own bodies and minds.
We stayed there as long as we could.
We began to slip away as Mitzi's ass reached it's limits.
Emma put down her weapons and caressed the flesh she had reddened.
She slipped her fingers to feel Mitzi's wetness.
Mitzi opned her eyes, sighing into my cock.
I pet her hair, welcoming her back.
Emma was watching me fuck Mitzi, our lips tight on on another, when we heard a shout from the door.
"Yo, Jefferson, you back there?," Apollo called.
"Yeah, we're in the bedroom," I replied.
Apollo smiled as he stood in the door. "Course you are, man, you are all up in it."
On orgy nights, I leave the door open for Apollo. I'm usually involved in some pre-game activity.
"Hi, Apollo," Mitzi cooed. "So nice to see you."
"Nice to see you too," he replied, leaning in to kiss the woman I was fucking. He patted my back. "You doing well, Jefferson?"
"As well as can be expected," I allowed. "Apollo, this is Emma. Emma, Apollo organizes the Nubian parties, and tonight is a Nubian party."
Emma sat up and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Apollo. I've only heard good things."
"Yeah, well, I hope it's all good." He took her hand and kissed her cheek. His hand dropped to feel her hips. "So Jefferson, I'm going to set up for the party. Anything need doing?"
"I already have the candles and such out," I replied, still pushing my cock in and out of Mitzi. "But you may want to check on ice, and get the music going."
"Yeah, I burned some new CDs. Okay, let me get that going." He looked back at the door. "Y'all stay busy."
We laughed.
Emma's eyes followed Apollo to the door, taking in his athletic build.
She looked at us as he left.
"You know," she said, "Maybe I will stay for the party."
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Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Ready, Set . . .
On a Friday evening in mid-January, I sat at my computer, passing time until the orgy that would launch my birthday week of wall-to-wall sex.
The apartment was clean and the sex sheets were in place. Candles and toilet paper had been replenished. Condoms and lube were placed at convenient locations in the bedrooms.
Nothing to do but wait for the bodies to arrive.
Mitzi planned to be at the party, and to spend the night afterwards.
We traded instant messages.
Mitzi: I’m so excited about the orgy tonight, Jefferson.
Jefferson: Me too! It looks like a good one.
Mitzi: Will you fuck girls while I watch, Jefferson?
Jefferson: I may indeed.
Mitzi: I’m masturbating to that right now. Time me!
Jefferson: Save some for the rest of us, darling.
Just then, Emma checked in.
Emma: Our server crashed, yet here I sit.
Jefferson: Friday, early evening, and yet you are at your office, looking after broken machines.
Emma: My lot. Do you have a party tonight?
Jefferson: Yes—the Nubians!
Emma: Oh, that’s nice. I’d join you, but I’m on my period.
Jefferson: I didn’t invite you. When you come to my sex parties, I want you to start with the other one, with my bisexual friends.
Emma: Whatever you say, hun. That’s your decision.
A ping sent me back to another message. Mitzi had rubbed one off.
Mitzi: Okay, time?
Jefferson: Um, just under fourteen seconds.
Mitzi: Yeah, that one took too long. I’ll try again.
Jefferson: What was your trigger?
Mitzi: I imagined walking into your apartment and finding you already fucking someone.
Jefferson: Well, wish I could help you, but I can’t offer that this evening. You’ll just have to wait until the Nubians arrive to watch me fuck.
Ping.
Emma: Any of your non-Nubian friends coming tonight?
Jefferson: Yes, Mitzi will be here.
Emma: So when will I meet Mitzi? You told me I could whip her. I’ve never whipped anyone. Some tutor you are.
Oh, right.
Mitzi was salivating about the prospect of meeting Emma, the pretty girl I kept secret.
Emma was keen to get going on her dominant side, She wanted Mitzi under her whip.
I checked the time.
Just before seven. I had an orgy at ten.
Hmmm.
Jefferson: Would you like to beat Mitzi this evening?
Emma: Well, it’s either that or study.
Jefferson: Either way, it’s all about your education.
Emma: I suppose that’s true.
Okay, one down.
Jefferson: I’m sorry I can’t offer you a sex show tonight. But I do have a consolation prize.
Mitzi: How so?
Jefferson: Emma and I are going to beat you up at eight.
Mitzi: Are you shitting me?!
Jefferson: Nope. Don’t keep us waiting.
Mitzi: I’m walking my dog and catching a cab.
Jefferson: Go. Bring the slapper.
It’s so sweet when she jumps.
Jefferson: Well, looks like you are studying Mitzi’s ass tonight.
Emma: Oh?
Jefferson: Yes, she’ll be here in about half an hour.
Emma: Huh . . . maybe this office can sit in the dark all by itself.
Jefferson: See you in a few.
I signed off.
I pulled out the arsenal of whips, cats and cane.
I took a shower.
I poured a bourbon.
I waited.
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The apartment was clean and the sex sheets were in place. Candles and toilet paper had been replenished. Condoms and lube were placed at convenient locations in the bedrooms.
Nothing to do but wait for the bodies to arrive.
Mitzi planned to be at the party, and to spend the night afterwards.
We traded instant messages.
Mitzi: I’m so excited about the orgy tonight, Jefferson.
Jefferson: Me too! It looks like a good one.
Mitzi: Will you fuck girls while I watch, Jefferson?
Jefferson: I may indeed.
Mitzi: I’m masturbating to that right now. Time me!
Jefferson: Save some for the rest of us, darling.
Just then, Emma checked in.
Emma: Our server crashed, yet here I sit.
Jefferson: Friday, early evening, and yet you are at your office, looking after broken machines.
Emma: My lot. Do you have a party tonight?
Jefferson: Yes—the Nubians!
Emma: Oh, that’s nice. I’d join you, but I’m on my period.
Jefferson: I didn’t invite you. When you come to my sex parties, I want you to start with the other one, with my bisexual friends.
Emma: Whatever you say, hun. That’s your decision.
A ping sent me back to another message. Mitzi had rubbed one off.
Mitzi: Okay, time?
Jefferson: Um, just under fourteen seconds.
Mitzi: Yeah, that one took too long. I’ll try again.
Jefferson: What was your trigger?
Mitzi: I imagined walking into your apartment and finding you already fucking someone.
Jefferson: Well, wish I could help you, but I can’t offer that this evening. You’ll just have to wait until the Nubians arrive to watch me fuck.
Ping.
Emma: Any of your non-Nubian friends coming tonight?
Jefferson: Yes, Mitzi will be here.
Emma: So when will I meet Mitzi? You told me I could whip her. I’ve never whipped anyone. Some tutor you are.
Oh, right.
Mitzi was salivating about the prospect of meeting Emma, the pretty girl I kept secret.
Emma was keen to get going on her dominant side, She wanted Mitzi under her whip.
I checked the time.
Just before seven. I had an orgy at ten.
Hmmm.
Jefferson: Would you like to beat Mitzi this evening?
Emma: Well, it’s either that or study.
Jefferson: Either way, it’s all about your education.
Emma: I suppose that’s true.
Okay, one down.
Jefferson: I’m sorry I can’t offer you a sex show tonight. But I do have a consolation prize.
Mitzi: How so?
Jefferson: Emma and I are going to beat you up at eight.
Mitzi: Are you shitting me?!
Jefferson: Nope. Don’t keep us waiting.
Mitzi: I’m walking my dog and catching a cab.
Jefferson: Go. Bring the slapper.
It’s so sweet when she jumps.
Jefferson: Well, looks like you are studying Mitzi’s ass tonight.
Emma: Oh?
Jefferson: Yes, she’ll be here in about half an hour.
Emma: Huh . . . maybe this office can sit in the dark all by itself.
Jefferson: See you in a few.
I signed off.
I pulled out the arsenal of whips, cats and cane.
I took a shower.
I poured a bourbon.
I waited.
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Program Notes
Today is Mitzi’s twenty-seventh birthday.
She’s feeling ancient. “I’m not in my mid-twenties anymore,” she laments. “I’m in my late twenties now—that’s almost thirty!”
“Poor kid,” I laugh.
Of course, I offer what consolation I can.
Last night marked the last orgasm of her mid-twenties. This morning, the first of the thousand-day slide into her third decade.
And the second. And the third. And . . .
Gentle readers, show an old lady some kindnesses, won’t you?
And, if you like, revisit the blindfolded gangbang I gave her for her last birthday. All those boys, and still she made time for her first taste of pussy.
They grow up so fast.
Also, thanks to those of you who expressed concern about the apparent demise of my blog on Sunday. There was some snafu at Blogger which murdered One Life, Take Two.
As Blogger announced that everything was back to normal, I fretted that my beautiful blog remained invisible.
“Did you try republishing?” Viviane asked.
D’oph.
More evidence that being Jefferson is too large a task for one man.
Speaking of birthdays, shall we catch up on the activities of my birthday week of wall-to-wall sex?
It all begins with the next post.
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She’s feeling ancient. “I’m not in my mid-twenties anymore,” she laments. “I’m in my late twenties now—that’s almost thirty!”
“Poor kid,” I laugh.
Of course, I offer what consolation I can.
Last night marked the last orgasm of her mid-twenties. This morning, the first of the thousand-day slide into her third decade.
And the second. And the third. And . . .
Gentle readers, show an old lady some kindnesses, won’t you?
And, if you like, revisit the blindfolded gangbang I gave her for her last birthday. All those boys, and still she made time for her first taste of pussy.
They grow up so fast.
Also, thanks to those of you who expressed concern about the apparent demise of my blog on Sunday. There was some snafu at Blogger which murdered One Life, Take Two.
As Blogger announced that everything was back to normal, I fretted that my beautiful blog remained invisible.
“Did you try republishing?” Viviane asked.
D’oph.
More evidence that being Jefferson is too large a task for one man.
Speaking of birthdays, shall we catch up on the activities of my birthday week of wall-to-wall sex?
It all begins with the next post.
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Exposed
It was only a matter of time.
Someone would uncover my secret boyfriend.
I have so many lovers, and most of them read my blog. I like that my life is as honest and transparent as it can be.
Still, I value my privacy. I like to keep some things private, or at least to reveal them on a timetable of my choosing.
So long as no one knew about my secret boyfriend Emma, she and I could get to know one another without anyone looking over our shoulders.
I was particularly glad that my not-so-secret boyfriend Marcus did not know.
Not because he would be jealous, as he’s always happy when I am happy.
Not because he might make a move on Emma. They will surely meet, and when they do, they will surely have sex. After all, Marcus fucks all my friends. That’s fine by me—they each deserve to have sex as good as the other has to offer.
No, I was glad Marcus didn’t know because he would immediately see something I was trying to reconcile in my mind.
With her smooth skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, youth and soft Virginia accent, Emma is the spitting image of my teenage daughter Rachel.
Now mind you, I wasn’t attracted to Emma by this coincidence.
I really had no idea what Emma looked like prior to our first meeting. I had never heard her voice.
That first summer night we met, chatting over margaritas with the promise of sex clinging to the humid night air, I had to ask myself: was the resemblance too eerie to press forward?
Could I really say to her, look Emma, you’re nice and all, but you look too much like my daughter for me to put my dick in you?
I mean, that wasn’t Emma’s problem. It was mine. She can’t help it if she looks so much like the little girl whose face is framed on my desk.
I decided I could manage this revelation.
But if she ever took to calling me “daddy,” I’d have to make her cut it out.
Marcus would make the connection immediately—and tease me about it no end—but no one else was likely to notice.
And anyway, for the time being, no one knew about Emma. I had time to get to know her, and to push aside the comparison to Rachel.
Even if it did fuel my narcissism to be fucking a pretty female version of myself.
At any rate, I didn’t have to worry too much about Marcus. He would be amused by my situation, but he would only know about it when I told him.
He doesn’t snoop.
And because he respects my privacy, I tell him everything.
That’s how my honesty fetish works. The more open I can be with a person, the deeper my affections. The more I have to hide, or dissemble, or gloss, the less content I am.
Invasions of privacy appall me.
And yet, they happen. The more some people know, the more they need to know.
Inevitably, someone would uncover my secret.
Not surprisingly, that someone was Mitzi.
Mitzi is a sharp-eyed sleuth, and congenitally curious to know more about my activities.
If I were ever lost, I would call Mitzi. She always knows where I am.
One evening, I was showing her something on my computer.
As I pointed out a website, she glanced at my desktop and saw a file marked “Emma.jpg.”
Her eyes fell to my open calendar. She saw the name “Emma” penciled in for Sunday.
“Jefferson, who is Emma?”
I was talking about something else, and surprised by her question.
“Emma? Why do you ask?”
“You have her photo and her name is on your calendar. Are you fucking this Emma?”
“I can fuck anyone I want, Mitzi.”
She punched my arm.
“Asshole. How long have you been fucking her?”
“I don’t want to talk about Emma.”
“I find out you’ve got a secret girlfriend? You better start talking, mister.”
I shrugged. “Well, actually, she’s a secret boyfriend, but . . . okay, yes, I have been seeing a woman named Emma. You’ll meet her eventually. She wants to come to the parties.”
Mitzi cocked her head. “She does?”
I steered Mitzi’s curiosity from jealous ire to lesbian desire. She likes fresh meat as much as the next girl.
“Yes, she does. I’m sure you will like her. She’s very cool, gets lezzie, and no, I’m not courting her for marriage.”
Mitzi sighed. “You really are a cad.”
“I know, I really am.”
“I hate you.”
“I know, and rightly so.”
“I want to break up with you.”
“That’s probably wise.”
That night, as I pinned Mitzi under my arms and fucked her, she called my name.
“Jefferson?”
“What?” I was fucking hard and did not alter my pace.
Mitzi looked into my eyes. “So when do I get to watch you fuck Emma?”
I kissed her softly.
“Very soon, Mitzi.”
“I’d like that,” she cooed.
She soon came.
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Someone would uncover my secret boyfriend.
I have so many lovers, and most of them read my blog. I like that my life is as honest and transparent as it can be.
Still, I value my privacy. I like to keep some things private, or at least to reveal them on a timetable of my choosing.
So long as no one knew about my secret boyfriend Emma, she and I could get to know one another without anyone looking over our shoulders.
I was particularly glad that my not-so-secret boyfriend Marcus did not know.
Not because he would be jealous, as he’s always happy when I am happy.
Not because he might make a move on Emma. They will surely meet, and when they do, they will surely have sex. After all, Marcus fucks all my friends. That’s fine by me—they each deserve to have sex as good as the other has to offer.
No, I was glad Marcus didn’t know because he would immediately see something I was trying to reconcile in my mind.
With her smooth skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, youth and soft Virginia accent, Emma is the spitting image of my teenage daughter Rachel.
Now mind you, I wasn’t attracted to Emma by this coincidence.
I really had no idea what Emma looked like prior to our first meeting. I had never heard her voice.
That first summer night we met, chatting over margaritas with the promise of sex clinging to the humid night air, I had to ask myself: was the resemblance too eerie to press forward?
Could I really say to her, look Emma, you’re nice and all, but you look too much like my daughter for me to put my dick in you?
I mean, that wasn’t Emma’s problem. It was mine. She can’t help it if she looks so much like the little girl whose face is framed on my desk.
I decided I could manage this revelation.
But if she ever took to calling me “daddy,” I’d have to make her cut it out.
Marcus would make the connection immediately—and tease me about it no end—but no one else was likely to notice.
And anyway, for the time being, no one knew about Emma. I had time to get to know her, and to push aside the comparison to Rachel.
Even if it did fuel my narcissism to be fucking a pretty female version of myself.
At any rate, I didn’t have to worry too much about Marcus. He would be amused by my situation, but he would only know about it when I told him.
He doesn’t snoop.
And because he respects my privacy, I tell him everything.
That’s how my honesty fetish works. The more open I can be with a person, the deeper my affections. The more I have to hide, or dissemble, or gloss, the less content I am.
Invasions of privacy appall me.
And yet, they happen. The more some people know, the more they need to know.
Inevitably, someone would uncover my secret.
Not surprisingly, that someone was Mitzi.
Mitzi is a sharp-eyed sleuth, and congenitally curious to know more about my activities.
If I were ever lost, I would call Mitzi. She always knows where I am.
One evening, I was showing her something on my computer.
As I pointed out a website, she glanced at my desktop and saw a file marked “Emma.jpg.”
Her eyes fell to my open calendar. She saw the name “Emma” penciled in for Sunday.
“Jefferson, who is Emma?”
I was talking about something else, and surprised by her question.
“Emma? Why do you ask?”
“You have her photo and her name is on your calendar. Are you fucking this Emma?”
“I can fuck anyone I want, Mitzi.”
She punched my arm.
“Asshole. How long have you been fucking her?”
“I don’t want to talk about Emma.”
“I find out you’ve got a secret girlfriend? You better start talking, mister.”
I shrugged. “Well, actually, she’s a secret boyfriend, but . . . okay, yes, I have been seeing a woman named Emma. You’ll meet her eventually. She wants to come to the parties.”
Mitzi cocked her head. “She does?”
I steered Mitzi’s curiosity from jealous ire to lesbian desire. She likes fresh meat as much as the next girl.
“Yes, she does. I’m sure you will like her. She’s very cool, gets lezzie, and no, I’m not courting her for marriage.”
Mitzi sighed. “You really are a cad.”
“I know, I really am.”
“I hate you.”
“I know, and rightly so.”
“I want to break up with you.”
“That’s probably wise.”
That night, as I pinned Mitzi under my arms and fucked her, she called my name.
“Jefferson?”
“What?” I was fucking hard and did not alter my pace.
Mitzi looked into my eyes. “So when do I get to watch you fuck Emma?”
I kissed her softly.
“Very soon, Mitzi.”
“I’d like that,” she cooed.
She soon came.
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Saturday, March 04, 2006
Deep Vanilla
“ . . . and here is the dining room,” the innkeeper said, sweeping her hand in the air. “Tea and coffee are always available, as well as our homemade cookies. Breakfast is served six thirty until eight, or you can have a tray brought to your room.”
“Oh, we’ll be taking breakfast in bed,” Bridget said. She squeezed my hand.
“I’ll make a note of that,” the innkeeper smiled.
Bridget had grown impatient with my schedule, so filled with work, children and “the harem,” as she refers to the women in my life. She decided to exercise her rights as chief concubine by commandeering my calendar.
“That weekend,” she said, “You are mine. I’m taking you to Buck’s County. I want to stay at a bed and breakfast, and I want you to boink me.”
I could not refuse.
Bridget doesn’t really take “no” for an answer.
I was late meeting her for the drive to the country, and I looked like hell. I had been up late fucking and drinking, as usual, allowing too little time for sleep.
I packed my hangover, but forgot a few things.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I kissed her as I got into the passenger seat. “I’m a shitty boyfriend. I also realize I forgot to pack condoms.”
“You really are tempting fate,” Bridget said over her sunglasses. She wheeled into traffic. “We’ll pick some up on the way, ‘cause I am waaaay due for some serious boinking.”
“Yes ma’am,” I nodded. I turned up the music. She was listening to Madonna.
As if anyone still listens to Madonna.
Bridget was eager for time with my cock, but she wasn’t exactly lacking for sex. She had recently taken on a new boy who couldn’t get enough of her.
He was very cute, pretty much my opposite in appearance, with short dark hair.
He was also enthralled.
He had never met a woman who enjoyed porn, sex toys and kink.
He spent five hundred dollars on toys to bring to their first date.
“Finally,” she teased me. “Someone to give me kinky sex.”
I laughed because it’s true.
Bridget and Jefferson are deep into vanilla.
We lunched and strolled the town.
We were queers among the quaint.
There were two sex shops along the way.
We stopped at one for condoms.
I toyed with the t-shirts and gag gifts.
“Hey, are you American Indian?” asked the woman behind the counter.
“Um, no, Filipino,” Bridget replied. “But I get that now and then.”
“Yes, maybe it’s that long hair—it’s really nice.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Bridget handed me the bag as we left, and took my hand as we crossed the street.
“Fucking dykes,” I muttered. “Always moving in on my women.”
“Now, Snooks, try to control your jealousy. It’s a hazard of being with cute girls like me.”
The second sex shop was much better stocked.
We picked up a sweet little whip.
“It’s funny that you think you can use that on me,” she scoffed.
I shrugged. “One can dream. Give me your forearm.”
She extended her arm.
I whipped her flesh. “You like?”
“Uh, no. That hurt!”
I sighed. “That’s sort of the idea, honey.”
Bridget had booked us into a lovely Colonial stone inn, perched on a hill. In the back, sheep dotted the lawn.
After a dinner of lamp chops and steaks, we retired to our room.
Along the way, I perused the inn’s music library. Norah Jones, Madeline Peyroux, Van Morrison . . . all that romantic stuff we girls love. I picked a few.
I put on some music.
Bridget flipped a switch, and a fire roared to life in our fireplace.
I lit candles.
“This is ridiculously romantic,” I said.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
We stood kissing, swaying slightly.
She held my hips.
My hands left her arms to take her soft cheeks.
“Let’s, uh, try this bed,” she suggested.
“Why you gotta talk so God damned much?” I asked.
We stripped and met on the bed.
“Holy Jesus!”
“Oh my God . . .”
“Can you . . . do you feel that?”
“Are you kidding? I’m in heaven.”
It was, without question, the most comfortable bed I have ever encountered.
I lay there for a moment, staring up at the canopy.
It pained me to lift myself from it.
I lowered myself onto Bridget, grateful that there are other comforts.
I fucked her gently, but firmly, until she screamed her first orgasm.
I fingered her through several more.
I bit her flesh, intent on leaving greeting cards to her new boy.
“Yes!” she shouted. “Mark me! Owwwwwn me!”
Bridget is the loudest woman I’ve ever fucked.
The only way to shut her up is to fill her mouth with cock.
I sat on her chest, shutting her up good and deep.
She likes her blowjobs to last a long time.
I am always happy to oblige.
Afterwards, we might have drifted to sleep in the world’s most comfortable bed, had we not been lured by the large Jacuzzi situated under a window.
I pondered the architecture, wondering how the inn had managed to provide such an amenity in a Colonial structure. One usually expects low ceilings and small bedrooms, yet here we were running hot water into a large tub in a big room.
“I dunno,” Bridget said, turning on the jets. “I think it’s always been the best room in the inn.”
Of course.
Bridget always goes to the top.
She settled into the bath. I lowered myself in, wrapping my legs around her wide belly.
I sipped bourbon as we talked, late into the night.
We left the fire going as we went to bed.
Her snores came first. Mine followed.
I slept, deep and rich, against her soft flesh.
We managed a long leisurely fuck the next morning before breakfast arrived.
We let it digest as we soaked in another bath.
As we drove home, Bridget took the scenic route, following the course of the Delaware River.
I watched the river’s current broken by the trees passing my window.
“Oh, we’ve come a long way since we met in college,” I sighed.
“Yes, Snooks. Remember dancing with the gay boys at that club?”
“I do indeed. We loved that place.”
“With the outdoor volleyball court?”
“Yes, and the three dance floors.”
She took my hand.
I smiled.
I love our false history.
I mean, no one has to know we meet on Craig’s List two years ago.
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“Oh, we’ll be taking breakfast in bed,” Bridget said. She squeezed my hand.
“I’ll make a note of that,” the innkeeper smiled.
Bridget had grown impatient with my schedule, so filled with work, children and “the harem,” as she refers to the women in my life. She decided to exercise her rights as chief concubine by commandeering my calendar.
“That weekend,” she said, “You are mine. I’m taking you to Buck’s County. I want to stay at a bed and breakfast, and I want you to boink me.”
I could not refuse.
Bridget doesn’t really take “no” for an answer.
I was late meeting her for the drive to the country, and I looked like hell. I had been up late fucking and drinking, as usual, allowing too little time for sleep.
I packed my hangover, but forgot a few things.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I kissed her as I got into the passenger seat. “I’m a shitty boyfriend. I also realize I forgot to pack condoms.”
“You really are tempting fate,” Bridget said over her sunglasses. She wheeled into traffic. “We’ll pick some up on the way, ‘cause I am waaaay due for some serious boinking.”
“Yes ma’am,” I nodded. I turned up the music. She was listening to Madonna.
As if anyone still listens to Madonna.
Bridget was eager for time with my cock, but she wasn’t exactly lacking for sex. She had recently taken on a new boy who couldn’t get enough of her.
He was very cute, pretty much my opposite in appearance, with short dark hair.
He was also enthralled.
He had never met a woman who enjoyed porn, sex toys and kink.
He spent five hundred dollars on toys to bring to their first date.
“Finally,” she teased me. “Someone to give me kinky sex.”
I laughed because it’s true.
Bridget and Jefferson are deep into vanilla.
We lunched and strolled the town.
We were queers among the quaint.
There were two sex shops along the way.
We stopped at one for condoms.
I toyed with the t-shirts and gag gifts.
“Hey, are you American Indian?” asked the woman behind the counter.
“Um, no, Filipino,” Bridget replied. “But I get that now and then.”
“Yes, maybe it’s that long hair—it’s really nice.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Bridget handed me the bag as we left, and took my hand as we crossed the street.
“Fucking dykes,” I muttered. “Always moving in on my women.”
“Now, Snooks, try to control your jealousy. It’s a hazard of being with cute girls like me.”
The second sex shop was much better stocked.
We picked up a sweet little whip.
“It’s funny that you think you can use that on me,” she scoffed.
I shrugged. “One can dream. Give me your forearm.”
She extended her arm.
I whipped her flesh. “You like?”
“Uh, no. That hurt!”
I sighed. “That’s sort of the idea, honey.”
Bridget had booked us into a lovely Colonial stone inn, perched on a hill. In the back, sheep dotted the lawn.
After a dinner of lamp chops and steaks, we retired to our room.
Along the way, I perused the inn’s music library. Norah Jones, Madeline Peyroux, Van Morrison . . . all that romantic stuff we girls love. I picked a few.
I put on some music.
Bridget flipped a switch, and a fire roared to life in our fireplace.
I lit candles.
“This is ridiculously romantic,” I said.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
We stood kissing, swaying slightly.
She held my hips.
My hands left her arms to take her soft cheeks.
“Let’s, uh, try this bed,” she suggested.
“Why you gotta talk so God damned much?” I asked.
We stripped and met on the bed.
“Holy Jesus!”
“Oh my God . . .”
“Can you . . . do you feel that?”
“Are you kidding? I’m in heaven.”
It was, without question, the most comfortable bed I have ever encountered.
I lay there for a moment, staring up at the canopy.
It pained me to lift myself from it.
I lowered myself onto Bridget, grateful that there are other comforts.
I fucked her gently, but firmly, until she screamed her first orgasm.
I fingered her through several more.
I bit her flesh, intent on leaving greeting cards to her new boy.
“Yes!” she shouted. “Mark me! Owwwwwn me!”
Bridget is the loudest woman I’ve ever fucked.
The only way to shut her up is to fill her mouth with cock.
I sat on her chest, shutting her up good and deep.
She likes her blowjobs to last a long time.
I am always happy to oblige.
Afterwards, we might have drifted to sleep in the world’s most comfortable bed, had we not been lured by the large Jacuzzi situated under a window.
I pondered the architecture, wondering how the inn had managed to provide such an amenity in a Colonial structure. One usually expects low ceilings and small bedrooms, yet here we were running hot water into a large tub in a big room.
“I dunno,” Bridget said, turning on the jets. “I think it’s always been the best room in the inn.”
Of course.
Bridget always goes to the top.
She settled into the bath. I lowered myself in, wrapping my legs around her wide belly.
I sipped bourbon as we talked, late into the night.
We left the fire going as we went to bed.
Her snores came first. Mine followed.
I slept, deep and rich, against her soft flesh.
We managed a long leisurely fuck the next morning before breakfast arrived.
We let it digest as we soaked in another bath.
As we drove home, Bridget took the scenic route, following the course of the Delaware River.
I watched the river’s current broken by the trees passing my window.
“Oh, we’ve come a long way since we met in college,” I sighed.
“Yes, Snooks. Remember dancing with the gay boys at that club?”
“I do indeed. We loved that place.”
“With the outdoor volleyball court?”
“Yes, and the three dance floors.”
She took my hand.
I smiled.
I love our false history.
I mean, no one has to know we meet on Craig’s List two years ago.
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Friday, March 03, 2006
Smart
I was having a pretty wretched day when I found a letter from my parents in the mailbox.
My mother’s neat cursive handwriting read:
We have been thinking about you and thought you might like to see how smart you are.
We love you
Mom & Dad
Inside the envelope was a letter.
June 21, 1985
Dear Jefferson,
I am writing to congratulate you on achieving a perfect academic record for Spring 1985. As you may know, this outstanding accomplishment qualifies you for inclusion on the Presidential Honor Roll for that term.
Your academic performance is indicative of both diligence and ability, characteristics which will serve you well in all your future endeavors.
Your perfect academic record for Spring 1985 is a source of pride for all members of the administration, faculty and staff.
Please accept my personal congratulations on qualifying for the Presidential Honor Roll. This is indeed a significant achievement.
Sincerely,
T. William DeBardeleban, Ph.D.
President
Also enclosed was a transcript from a time in my life when I knew far more than I now know about German Literature, Trigonometry and Roman Art.
Back when my future was so bright, I had to wear shades.
I sent my folks an email telling them how much I love them.
Where on earth did they keep this letter for twenty years, through four changes of address, four children, ten grandchildren and eight dogs?
I wish I knew how to get in touch with President DeBardeleban.
My mother’s neat cursive handwriting read:
We have been thinking about you and thought you might like to see how smart you are.
We love you
Mom & Dad
Inside the envelope was a letter.
June 21, 1985
Dear Jefferson,
I am writing to congratulate you on achieving a perfect academic record for Spring 1985. As you may know, this outstanding accomplishment qualifies you for inclusion on the Presidential Honor Roll for that term.
Your academic performance is indicative of both diligence and ability, characteristics which will serve you well in all your future endeavors.
Your perfect academic record for Spring 1985 is a source of pride for all members of the administration, faculty and staff.
Please accept my personal congratulations on qualifying for the Presidential Honor Roll. This is indeed a significant achievement.
Sincerely,
T. William DeBardeleban, Ph.D.
President
Also enclosed was a transcript from a time in my life when I knew far more than I now know about German Literature, Trigonometry and Roman Art.
Back when my future was so bright, I had to wear shades.
I sent my folks an email telling them how much I love them.
Where on earth did they keep this letter for twenty years, through four changes of address, four children, ten grandchildren and eight dogs?
I wish I knew how to get in touch with President DeBardeleban.
Dad's Friends
Lillie stuck out her tongue as I walked into the classroom.
I blew her a kiss.
She giggled.
Another parent nodded to me and smiled as I sat in a tiny chair. I waved back.
“Okay, parents, welcome,” Miss Harper began. “It’s nice to have you here again—Marvin. Hands to self. You too, Gina.
“Now, as you may have heard from the children, we have been reading nonfiction with our study groups. Each group has a basket containing books on a specific subject. So today, we are going to—Sara. Don’t.—we are going to break into our groups and share our books with you.”
One morning each month, parents are invited to join their children in the classroom to be “reading partners.”
I have two children in the school, so I begin with Lillie’s first grade and move up to Collie’s fourth grade.
When the children broke into their groups, Lillie brought a boy to my table.
“Dad, this is Perry. Perry, this is Dad.”
I stood and took Perry’s hand. “Nice to meet you, son. I’m Jefferson, Lillie’s dad.”
His grin was like a broken fence. So many missing teeth.
“This is my mom.” He pointed over his shoulder.
“Nice to meet you,” I smiled.
“You too. I’m Margaret, Perry’s mom. I love Lillie’s red hair!”
Lillie rolled her eyes.
“Oh, thanks. Perry’s a sweet fellow. He always smiles when we see him on the bus.”
Margaret Perry’s Mom patted her son’s head.
Jefferson Lillie’s Dad chucked his daughter’s chin.
Such are the rituals of greeting when your primary identification is as a child’s parent.
“Shall we . . .?” I said, indicating the chairs.
“Oh yes,” Margaret Perry’s Mom said. “What are we reading about today? Oh frogs! I love frogs!”
“Frogs lay eggs,” Perry said.
“Thousands of eggs, to make tadpoles,” Lillie added.
“Well, let’s learn about frogs then!” I said.
We sat by our children as they debated which book they wanted to read. Lillie agreed to Perry’s choice and let him read first.
“What do you . . . know about frogs?” Perry began. “Did you . . . know that frogs begin life under water?”
My eyes followed Perry’s fingers across the page. I was interrupted by Lillie’s tapping on my elbow.
“Dad? Dad?” she whispered.
“Shh, honey, we’re listening now.”
“But look, over there.”
She pointed across the room.
“Where am I looking?” I asked.
“Over there, that’s Sara.”
“Okay honey, but we are reading now.”
“No look, there’s Sara’s mom,” she smiled. “Now’s your chance.”
Lillie is determined to fix me up with Sara’s mom, a woman I’ve never met.
“Shh, sugar, let’s read about frogs now.” I looked back at the page. Lillie’s eyes followed mine.
“The tadpole is growing up.” Perry read. “It will soon loss its tail.”
“Lose, honey,” his mom corrected.
“Lose its tail.”
I stole a glimpse at Sara’s mom.
Lillie read about frogs and the book was finished.
I kissed her on the head.
“Good reading, sweetheart. I need to go visit Collie now.”
“No, go meet Sara’s mom! It’s now or never!”
“Another time, baby. Nice to meet you Perry, Margaret.”
“You too, Jefferson,” Margaret Perry’s Mom smiled.
I walked upstairs and found Collie on his way to collect me.
“Perfect timing, son.”
“Yeah, come with me.” He took my hand. “We’re reading poetry anthologies.”
“Oh, fun.”
“Yes, but you can’t read mine. I wrote a poem about you.”
“What? Oh, then I have to read it!”
He giggled. “No, it will make you mad and you will hate me.”
“I already hate you. Come on, let me read it.”
“Okay, you can read it.” He led me into his classroom. His bearing stiffened to the formality he affects when he is feeling silly. “Now, be quiet.”
“Yes, sir.”
He led me to his desk. A group of boys huddled nearby.
“Dad, this is Harry, this is Jeremy, this is William. And this,” he picked up a book, “This is my poetry anthology.”
He handed me a book of loose pages stapled between sheets of green construction paper. It was titled, “My Poems About Family and Friends, By Collie.”
“Oh, okay, thank you. Nice to meet you boys, but I think I need to do a little reading now.”
“Okay,” Harry grinned.
Collie giggled.
I sat in Collie’s chair and turned the cover.
It opened with a poem about my ex wife’s mother.
My Grandmother
All I wanted
Was a nice Christmas vacation
But no, you had to ruin it.
I try to help
But you yell at me
When I do something wrong.
Everyone who knows you
Knows you
Are not the kind of grandmother
Who bakes cookies
Or kisses you good night.
“Well,” I said. “You are certainly, um, an honest writer.”
Collie giggled.
There was a poem about his mother’s cat.
Gray
You are a gray cat
You play with my sister
But you scratch me when I pass you on the stairs.
But then you curl with me
When I am asleep
And I don’t feel lonely
I don’t know
If I like you
Or not.
“Oh, you and that cat!” I grinned.
Collie giggled.
There were several more poems, some having to do with kids in his neighborhood, some having to do with kids in school. None concerning his mother or siblings.
I came to the last page.
Collie looked on nervously.
Dad's Friends
Last night
One of Dad’s friends came over
It made me sad
All of Dad’s friends are women
We are split up
I do not want him to love a women
I guess (sigh) that is a problem
For divorced kids.
I looked at Collie.
Collie giggled.
“I do have a lot of female friends, don’t I?”
He shrugged.
It’s true. In part, this has to do with the field in which I work; in part, it may be personal preference, or perhaps just a twist of fate.
I pulled him close.
“I will never be mad at you for feeling what you feel, or for writing what you feel.”
“I know, Daddy.”
“We’re a family, baby. I love you, and that’s not changing.”
He shrugged in my arms.
“I know.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper.
“And you are still my favorite.”
Collie giggled.
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I blew her a kiss.
She giggled.
Another parent nodded to me and smiled as I sat in a tiny chair. I waved back.
“Okay, parents, welcome,” Miss Harper began. “It’s nice to have you here again—Marvin. Hands to self. You too, Gina.
“Now, as you may have heard from the children, we have been reading nonfiction with our study groups. Each group has a basket containing books on a specific subject. So today, we are going to—Sara. Don’t.—we are going to break into our groups and share our books with you.”
One morning each month, parents are invited to join their children in the classroom to be “reading partners.”
I have two children in the school, so I begin with Lillie’s first grade and move up to Collie’s fourth grade.
When the children broke into their groups, Lillie brought a boy to my table.
“Dad, this is Perry. Perry, this is Dad.”
I stood and took Perry’s hand. “Nice to meet you, son. I’m Jefferson, Lillie’s dad.”
His grin was like a broken fence. So many missing teeth.
“This is my mom.” He pointed over his shoulder.
“Nice to meet you,” I smiled.
“You too. I’m Margaret, Perry’s mom. I love Lillie’s red hair!”
Lillie rolled her eyes.
“Oh, thanks. Perry’s a sweet fellow. He always smiles when we see him on the bus.”
Margaret Perry’s Mom patted her son’s head.
Jefferson Lillie’s Dad chucked his daughter’s chin.
Such are the rituals of greeting when your primary identification is as a child’s parent.
“Shall we . . .?” I said, indicating the chairs.
“Oh yes,” Margaret Perry’s Mom said. “What are we reading about today? Oh frogs! I love frogs!”
“Frogs lay eggs,” Perry said.
“Thousands of eggs, to make tadpoles,” Lillie added.
“Well, let’s learn about frogs then!” I said.
We sat by our children as they debated which book they wanted to read. Lillie agreed to Perry’s choice and let him read first.
“What do you . . . know about frogs?” Perry began. “Did you . . . know that frogs begin life under water?”
My eyes followed Perry’s fingers across the page. I was interrupted by Lillie’s tapping on my elbow.
“Dad? Dad?” she whispered.
“Shh, honey, we’re listening now.”
“But look, over there.”
She pointed across the room.
“Where am I looking?” I asked.
“Over there, that’s Sara.”
“Okay honey, but we are reading now.”
“No look, there’s Sara’s mom,” she smiled. “Now’s your chance.”
Lillie is determined to fix me up with Sara’s mom, a woman I’ve never met.
“Shh, sugar, let’s read about frogs now.” I looked back at the page. Lillie’s eyes followed mine.
“The tadpole is growing up.” Perry read. “It will soon loss its tail.”
“Lose, honey,” his mom corrected.
“Lose its tail.”
I stole a glimpse at Sara’s mom.
Lillie read about frogs and the book was finished.
I kissed her on the head.
“Good reading, sweetheart. I need to go visit Collie now.”
“No, go meet Sara’s mom! It’s now or never!”
“Another time, baby. Nice to meet you Perry, Margaret.”
“You too, Jefferson,” Margaret Perry’s Mom smiled.
I walked upstairs and found Collie on his way to collect me.
“Perfect timing, son.”
“Yeah, come with me.” He took my hand. “We’re reading poetry anthologies.”
“Oh, fun.”
“Yes, but you can’t read mine. I wrote a poem about you.”
“What? Oh, then I have to read it!”
He giggled. “No, it will make you mad and you will hate me.”
“I already hate you. Come on, let me read it.”
“Okay, you can read it.” He led me into his classroom. His bearing stiffened to the formality he affects when he is feeling silly. “Now, be quiet.”
“Yes, sir.”
He led me to his desk. A group of boys huddled nearby.
“Dad, this is Harry, this is Jeremy, this is William. And this,” he picked up a book, “This is my poetry anthology.”
He handed me a book of loose pages stapled between sheets of green construction paper. It was titled, “My Poems About Family and Friends, By Collie.”
“Oh, okay, thank you. Nice to meet you boys, but I think I need to do a little reading now.”
“Okay,” Harry grinned.
Collie giggled.
I sat in Collie’s chair and turned the cover.
It opened with a poem about my ex wife’s mother.
My Grandmother
All I wanted
Was a nice Christmas vacation
But no, you had to ruin it.
I try to help
But you yell at me
When I do something wrong.
Everyone who knows you
Knows you
Are not the kind of grandmother
Who bakes cookies
Or kisses you good night.
“Well,” I said. “You are certainly, um, an honest writer.”
Collie giggled.
There was a poem about his mother’s cat.
Gray
You are a gray cat
You play with my sister
But you scratch me when I pass you on the stairs.
But then you curl with me
When I am asleep
And I don’t feel lonely
I don’t know
If I like you
Or not.
“Oh, you and that cat!” I grinned.
Collie giggled.
There were several more poems, some having to do with kids in his neighborhood, some having to do with kids in school. None concerning his mother or siblings.
I came to the last page.
Collie looked on nervously.
Dad's Friends
Last night
One of Dad’s friends came over
It made me sad
All of Dad’s friends are women
We are split up
I do not want him to love a women
I guess (sigh) that is a problem
For divorced kids.
I looked at Collie.
Collie giggled.
“I do have a lot of female friends, don’t I?”
He shrugged.
It’s true. In part, this has to do with the field in which I work; in part, it may be personal preference, or perhaps just a twist of fate.
I pulled him close.
“I will never be mad at you for feeling what you feel, or for writing what you feel.”
“I know, Daddy.”
“We’re a family, baby. I love you, and that’s not changing.”
He shrugged in my arms.
“I know.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper.
“And you are still my favorite.”
Collie giggled.
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Nap
Emma has been under a lot of stress lately. She works a demanding job while also studying for graduate school.
Sometimes, it catches up with her.
One afternoon, as we traded instant messages, she confessed to being tired.
I suggested she nap.
She said she could try, but it was very cold at her place.
I suggested she nap at my place.
“Oh right,” she said. “Like you would let me nap.”
“I would, of course I would. I have things to do, you know. I’ll warm you up with body heat and send you to slumbers on flannel sheets. I’ll work, and when you wake up, I’ll fuck you and send you on your way.”
“Oh, sleep AND sex. That’s a good offer.”
“And steam heat. My place is positively balmy.”
“You make a good case.”
“Do what you like, Emma. Me, I need to throw more water on the rocks in this sauna I call home.”
“Okay, I’m coming over.”
Emma did look dog-tired.
I kissed her and peeled off her clothes.
She crawled into bed.
I undressed and crawled in after.
I spooned her, ignoring my erection, waiting for her to drift off.
I was starting to feel a little drowsy myself when Emma’s phone rang.
It was on my side of the bed. She has taken to claiming my side of the bed. This time, I managed to nudge her over to the company side.
She was compliant when she was tired, I guess.
I passed the phone to her.
She sat up.
“Hello?” She listened, then laughed. “I know, I couldn’t believe it when I heard the ring tone. It’s been, what, three months?”
I rolled on my back and closed my eyes. I wanted to give her a measure of privacy.
“Well, I guess the big news is that I’ve chopped my hair off. It’s like a bob . . . I know, pretty short! You’d be surprised. And you? . . . uh huh . . .”
This sounded like it could go on for a while.
My mind suggested that we get back to work.
My body countered that a nap sounded good.
I was moderating the debate when Emma stroked my hair. Her fingers apologized for the intrusion.
Maybe I would stick around for a bit.
“Did you hear that Dad got a dog? . . . I know, after all those years of us wanting a pet, and now he gets a dog. And he drove, like, three hours each way to pick it up . . . yeah, it’s cute, but . . .” She listened, then laughed.
All the while, stroking my hair.
I fingered her arm.
She lay back on the pillows, and smiled at me.
Such pretty teeth.
My finger found her collarbone.
She twirled a strand of my hair.
“Well, yes, of course I’m nervous, but I study, like, every free moment. So I can only do it and . . . right! Pray for the best.”
My finger traced to her belly.
She stretched back.
I toyed with her pubic hair.
She opened her thighs.
My fingers tinkered at her pussy.
“So have you talked to Rob? No, me neither . . . uh huh . . . but you know Stephen has that new work study . . . no? Oh, it sounds pretty cool . . .”
I am getting to know Emma’s pussy pretty well.
We’re fast friends.
I greet it with a “howdy,” and hear back a nice juicy “come on in, baby doll.”
My finger slipped from her clit to her slit.
“Uh huh . . . oh right, like that’s happening . . . wow, are you kidding? No, not since Christmas.”
I massaged her g-spot with two fingers.
Her usual.
She closed her eyes as she listened.
She cums quietly, but I was pretty sure she didn’t want to orgasm into her caller’s ear. I took her close, but pulled back in the nick of time.
“No, haven’t you heard? They made up after the wedding . . . yeah, Mama said she was sick of it and forced them to talk . . . right? Too bad she didn’t do that in, like, nineteen seventy nine.”
I kissed her soft belly.
Nap be damned. I couldn’t leave her now—not without fucking her. But this phone call was going on forever.
“No, I totally don’t know that. You have to tell me what happened.”
I took a nipple in my teeth.
She could feel my hard cock pressing into her thigh.
She caressed my hair, absentmindedly punctuating the air with “uh huhs” and “yeahs.”
I kissed her neck. I bit behind her ear, gently.
She slapped my shoulder playfully.
I sat up, kneeling between her open thighs.
“Okay, now was this before or after the accident?”
I opened my condom drawer, my eyes on hers.
She mouthed a “no.”
I nodded a “yes.”
She mouthed another phrase. Was it “you’re bad?” Or “go ahead?”
I poised my cock at her lips, toying with her clit, entering her slightly.
All the while, my eyes on hers.
I leaned forward.
My cock slid into her.
“Oh, that’s good . . . no really, I’m sure that’s good.”
She slapped my back again.
I fucked her gently, nestling her neck.
With my head next to hers, I could now hear her caller’s voice. It was a woman, excitedly going on about something.
I tried not to listen. It’s rude to listen in on phone calls.
I figured I could keep Emma aroused but just shy of orgasm if I fucked slow, deep and steady.
This suited me fine. I can do that for hours.
Which, at this rate, might have to be the case.
This woman would not shut up.
Emma’s face was flushed, her eyes closed and her head turned away. I recognized the expression. She was giving over to the sex.
I kissed her check.
“Uh huh . . . well, yeah, I guess I should go too. Yeah, would you? Seriously, yes, more often, this was crazy . . . okay, bye.”
Emma closed the phone, and rested it on my nightstand.
She slapped my arm.
“You are such an asshole.”
“I know. It’s really true, I am.”
I kissed her neck again.
“Jefferson, that was my sister.”
I paused.
“Wow, we did a phone sex threesome with your sister? How hot is that?”
“Asshole.”
“I was hoping we’d do your brother first. He’s cute.”
My hips ground into hers.
She went limp.
“Just for that, I’m not going to cum.”
“Baby,” I kissed her, “Don’t be like that.”
“Asshole.”
She held on to her resolve for a few moments.
I stole some orgasms and left her to nap.
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Sometimes, it catches up with her.
One afternoon, as we traded instant messages, she confessed to being tired.
I suggested she nap.
She said she could try, but it was very cold at her place.
I suggested she nap at my place.
“Oh right,” she said. “Like you would let me nap.”
“I would, of course I would. I have things to do, you know. I’ll warm you up with body heat and send you to slumbers on flannel sheets. I’ll work, and when you wake up, I’ll fuck you and send you on your way.”
“Oh, sleep AND sex. That’s a good offer.”
“And steam heat. My place is positively balmy.”
“You make a good case.”
“Do what you like, Emma. Me, I need to throw more water on the rocks in this sauna I call home.”
“Okay, I’m coming over.”
Emma did look dog-tired.
I kissed her and peeled off her clothes.
She crawled into bed.
I undressed and crawled in after.
I spooned her, ignoring my erection, waiting for her to drift off.
I was starting to feel a little drowsy myself when Emma’s phone rang.
It was on my side of the bed. She has taken to claiming my side of the bed. This time, I managed to nudge her over to the company side.
She was compliant when she was tired, I guess.
I passed the phone to her.
She sat up.
“Hello?” She listened, then laughed. “I know, I couldn’t believe it when I heard the ring tone. It’s been, what, three months?”
I rolled on my back and closed my eyes. I wanted to give her a measure of privacy.
“Well, I guess the big news is that I’ve chopped my hair off. It’s like a bob . . . I know, pretty short! You’d be surprised. And you? . . . uh huh . . .”
This sounded like it could go on for a while.
My mind suggested that we get back to work.
My body countered that a nap sounded good.
I was moderating the debate when Emma stroked my hair. Her fingers apologized for the intrusion.
Maybe I would stick around for a bit.
“Did you hear that Dad got a dog? . . . I know, after all those years of us wanting a pet, and now he gets a dog. And he drove, like, three hours each way to pick it up . . . yeah, it’s cute, but . . .” She listened, then laughed.
All the while, stroking my hair.
I fingered her arm.
She lay back on the pillows, and smiled at me.
Such pretty teeth.
My finger found her collarbone.
She twirled a strand of my hair.
“Well, yes, of course I’m nervous, but I study, like, every free moment. So I can only do it and . . . right! Pray for the best.”
My finger traced to her belly.
She stretched back.
I toyed with her pubic hair.
She opened her thighs.
My fingers tinkered at her pussy.
“So have you talked to Rob? No, me neither . . . uh huh . . . but you know Stephen has that new work study . . . no? Oh, it sounds pretty cool . . .”
I am getting to know Emma’s pussy pretty well.
We’re fast friends.
I greet it with a “howdy,” and hear back a nice juicy “come on in, baby doll.”
My finger slipped from her clit to her slit.
“Uh huh . . . oh right, like that’s happening . . . wow, are you kidding? No, not since Christmas.”
I massaged her g-spot with two fingers.
Her usual.
She closed her eyes as she listened.
She cums quietly, but I was pretty sure she didn’t want to orgasm into her caller’s ear. I took her close, but pulled back in the nick of time.
“No, haven’t you heard? They made up after the wedding . . . yeah, Mama said she was sick of it and forced them to talk . . . right? Too bad she didn’t do that in, like, nineteen seventy nine.”
I kissed her soft belly.
Nap be damned. I couldn’t leave her now—not without fucking her. But this phone call was going on forever.
“No, I totally don’t know that. You have to tell me what happened.”
I took a nipple in my teeth.
She could feel my hard cock pressing into her thigh.
She caressed my hair, absentmindedly punctuating the air with “uh huhs” and “yeahs.”
I kissed her neck. I bit behind her ear, gently.
She slapped my shoulder playfully.
I sat up, kneeling between her open thighs.
“Okay, now was this before or after the accident?”
I opened my condom drawer, my eyes on hers.
She mouthed a “no.”
I nodded a “yes.”
She mouthed another phrase. Was it “you’re bad?” Or “go ahead?”
I poised my cock at her lips, toying with her clit, entering her slightly.
All the while, my eyes on hers.
I leaned forward.
My cock slid into her.
“Oh, that’s good . . . no really, I’m sure that’s good.”
She slapped my back again.
I fucked her gently, nestling her neck.
With my head next to hers, I could now hear her caller’s voice. It was a woman, excitedly going on about something.
I tried not to listen. It’s rude to listen in on phone calls.
I figured I could keep Emma aroused but just shy of orgasm if I fucked slow, deep and steady.
This suited me fine. I can do that for hours.
Which, at this rate, might have to be the case.
This woman would not shut up.
Emma’s face was flushed, her eyes closed and her head turned away. I recognized the expression. She was giving over to the sex.
I kissed her check.
“Uh huh . . . well, yeah, I guess I should go too. Yeah, would you? Seriously, yes, more often, this was crazy . . . okay, bye.”
Emma closed the phone, and rested it on my nightstand.
She slapped my arm.
“You are such an asshole.”
“I know. It’s really true, I am.”
I kissed her neck again.
“Jefferson, that was my sister.”
I paused.
“Wow, we did a phone sex threesome with your sister? How hot is that?”
“Asshole.”
“I was hoping we’d do your brother first. He’s cute.”
My hips ground into hers.
She went limp.
“Just for that, I’m not going to cum.”
“Baby,” I kissed her, “Don’t be like that.”
“Asshole.”
She held on to her resolve for a few moments.
I stole some orgasms and left her to nap.
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Thursday, March 02, 2006
Pillows
I was fucking Emma when I was struck by a nagging thought.
“Hey, Emma,” I said, parking my cock in her.
“Hey, Jefferson,” she said, resting her hands on my hips.
“Look, I . . . I hate to bring this up, as its potentially embarrassing for you, but . . . “
I bit my lip.
“What is it, Jefferson?” She looked concerned.
“It’s just that . . . well, I’ve noticed that you have never sucked my cock. It’s possible that you are just very bad at giving head and you are embarrassed . . .”
Emma began to laugh.
“ . . . but I want you to know that I won’t mock your efforts cruelly, no matter how lousy you are.”
“Look, Jefferson,” she smiled. “If you didn’t always have your dick in my pussy, we might be able to try other things.”
“It’s true. My dick does have a crush on your pussy.” I moved my cock in her for emphasis.
“And my pussy is fond of your cock. But it will never get sucked if it’s in there.”
“I can see that.”
I pulled out a bit, then gently eased back in.
“So there are two ways you can get a blowjob from me.”
“Do tell.” I began to fuck her once more in earnest.
“Well, the first one isn’t happening, so there’s no point in bringing it up.”
“What is it?”
“Doesn’t matter, it isn’t happening. You need to focus on the second way.”
“Okay, what’s the second way?”
She gripped my shoulder as I thrust into her.
“You simply have to ask.”
“Huh, simple as that?”
“That’s right.”
“Good to know.”
We kept fucking.
A few minutes later, I stopped.
“Hey, Emma.”
“Hey, Jefferson.”
“Would you please suck my cock?”
“I’d be glad to.”
“Great!” I smiled.
“Uh, Jefferson?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll need to take your dick out of my pussy to do this.”
I slumped. “Oh, screw that, then.”
I fucked her some more.
I stopped.
“Okay, curiosity has the better of me. I think I will take you up on that blowjob.”
“Is that asking, or telling?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Right, sorry about that. Will you please suck my cock, please?”
“Of course, I’d be glad to.”
“Great, thanks.”
I pet her hair.
“Jefferson . . .”
“I know, I know. Just a moment, please.”
“Take your time.”
I rested my cock as deep in her as I could.
“It’s just . . . it’s just awfully nice like this.”
“I have no complaints. I just can’t suck it when it’s in my pussy.”
“Shhhh.” I kissed her.
And slowly, gently pulled out. Centimeter by centimeter.
It took about a minute, but at the end, I was disengaged.
“Whew.”
“You okay?”
“If by ‘okay,’ you mean, ‘without pussy,’ then yes, I’m okay. This better be some blowjob, considering my sacrifices.”
“I’ve never had a complaint. Now get off me and lay back.”
I kissed Emma then lifted myself up. I settled back on some pillows.
“No, I need those pillows,” Emma said. She held out her hand.
I lifted up and passed her the pillows.
She smiled.
She pushed the pillows into my face.
“Hey!” I managed. “Whaf de fuff?”
“Shhh. No peeking.”
“Whaf abouf brea-fing?”
“Yes you can breath, but no looking.”
“Ofay.”
I’m a good sport. I closed my eyes.
I felt nothing—except anticipation.
Then, her hand began to caress my torso. Instinctively, I reached for her.
She took my forearm roughly.
“No. No touching.”
“Oh, no peefing, no fouching, buf brea-fing if ofay?”
“That’s right.” She raised the pillow, put my arms over my head and put the pillow back in place.
I kept my eyes shut tight.
Again, I waited.
Then, the faintest touch.
One hand, soft and gentle, on my inner thigh.
It vanished.
The touch was gone.
It resurfaced on my chest. I flinched in surprise.
“Shhh.”
I nodded under my pillow.
The touch moved along my rib cage to the curve of my belly, lightly tickling hairs, smoothing goose pimples.
I imagined her eyes monitoring my cock as it bobbed, seeking her, anticipating her touch.
The touch vanished.
I quivered.
I needed it.
I was jonesing.
The touch reappeared at my hip.
It traced across my body, raking hairs, avoiding the part of my body that most craved it.
The touch vanished.
I waited, wondering when it would recur, where I would feel it next.
The touch returned at the base of my cock.
Electricity surged through my body.
As the touch traced its way slowly up my cock, I could distinguish its every part—the thickly swollen bottom, the engorged sides, the aching head.
The touch took so long to traverse my cock, I felt it must have grown many times its normal size. Blind under the pillow, I visualized my body like a freeway, the touch a slow moving vehicle taking the scenic route across the continent of my body.
The touch vanished.
I waited.
I tried to slow my breath, to wait patiently.
She hovered over me.
Her mouth took my nipple.
Again, a flinch at the unexpected.
The touch retuned to sooth me, resting on my belly.
The air under the pillow was stale and warm. I drew it slowly into my nostrils, keeping my mouth shut.
Her mouth and the touch moved lightly over my body, but quickly now. The anticipation was crushing.
Please, please, please.
Her mouth was close to my cock now. I could feel her breath on my shaft.
Please, please, please.
Her mouth took me.
I shivered.
My whole body was on her tongue.
She took me slowly, gingerly, exploring with her mouth the terrain staked out by her touch.
My mind took refuge with me under the pillow. The corporeal was left to fend for itself.
I dared to thrust slightly.
Her palms pressed down on my hips, arresting me.
She was fucking me.
I had to surrender.
I turned my head to bite my arm.
Give in, give in.
I could stand it no longer.
I threw off the pillow.
Emma looked up. She took my cock from her mouth.
“Excuse me?”
“Please. I have to fuck you.”
She held my cock in one hand, massaging it with the other.
“No.”
“Please. I really need to feel you cum.”
Emma stood and retrieved the pillow.
“No.”
“Emma, please . . . “
My plea trailed off under the pillow.
The next time I requested a blowjob, Emma smiled.
She would be happy to suck my cock, she said.
She put a pillowcase over my head.
She tied my wrists to the bed.
She took a long tour.
She insisted that I cum.
As I lay panting afterwards, she laughed.
“You are no kind of dom,” she teased. “You are my submissive little girl.”
Inside the pillowcase, I smiled.
I had a secret.
I had a secret boyfriend.
I had a secret dom boyfriend.
I kept him hidden inside a pretty girl.
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“Hey, Emma,” I said, parking my cock in her.
“Hey, Jefferson,” she said, resting her hands on my hips.
“Look, I . . . I hate to bring this up, as its potentially embarrassing for you, but . . . “
I bit my lip.
“What is it, Jefferson?” She looked concerned.
“It’s just that . . . well, I’ve noticed that you have never sucked my cock. It’s possible that you are just very bad at giving head and you are embarrassed . . .”
Emma began to laugh.
“ . . . but I want you to know that I won’t mock your efforts cruelly, no matter how lousy you are.”
“Look, Jefferson,” she smiled. “If you didn’t always have your dick in my pussy, we might be able to try other things.”
“It’s true. My dick does have a crush on your pussy.” I moved my cock in her for emphasis.
“And my pussy is fond of your cock. But it will never get sucked if it’s in there.”
“I can see that.”
I pulled out a bit, then gently eased back in.
“So there are two ways you can get a blowjob from me.”
“Do tell.” I began to fuck her once more in earnest.
“Well, the first one isn’t happening, so there’s no point in bringing it up.”
“What is it?”
“Doesn’t matter, it isn’t happening. You need to focus on the second way.”
“Okay, what’s the second way?”
She gripped my shoulder as I thrust into her.
“You simply have to ask.”
“Huh, simple as that?”
“That’s right.”
“Good to know.”
We kept fucking.
A few minutes later, I stopped.
“Hey, Emma.”
“Hey, Jefferson.”
“Would you please suck my cock?”
“I’d be glad to.”
“Great!” I smiled.
“Uh, Jefferson?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll need to take your dick out of my pussy to do this.”
I slumped. “Oh, screw that, then.”
I fucked her some more.
I stopped.
“Okay, curiosity has the better of me. I think I will take you up on that blowjob.”
“Is that asking, or telling?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Right, sorry about that. Will you please suck my cock, please?”
“Of course, I’d be glad to.”
“Great, thanks.”
I pet her hair.
“Jefferson . . .”
“I know, I know. Just a moment, please.”
“Take your time.”
I rested my cock as deep in her as I could.
“It’s just . . . it’s just awfully nice like this.”
“I have no complaints. I just can’t suck it when it’s in my pussy.”
“Shhhh.” I kissed her.
And slowly, gently pulled out. Centimeter by centimeter.
It took about a minute, but at the end, I was disengaged.
“Whew.”
“You okay?”
“If by ‘okay,’ you mean, ‘without pussy,’ then yes, I’m okay. This better be some blowjob, considering my sacrifices.”
“I’ve never had a complaint. Now get off me and lay back.”
I kissed Emma then lifted myself up. I settled back on some pillows.
“No, I need those pillows,” Emma said. She held out her hand.
I lifted up and passed her the pillows.
She smiled.
She pushed the pillows into my face.
“Hey!” I managed. “Whaf de fuff?”
“Shhh. No peeking.”
“Whaf abouf brea-fing?”
“Yes you can breath, but no looking.”
“Ofay.”
I’m a good sport. I closed my eyes.
I felt nothing—except anticipation.
Then, her hand began to caress my torso. Instinctively, I reached for her.
She took my forearm roughly.
“No. No touching.”
“Oh, no peefing, no fouching, buf brea-fing if ofay?”
“That’s right.” She raised the pillow, put my arms over my head and put the pillow back in place.
I kept my eyes shut tight.
Again, I waited.
Then, the faintest touch.
One hand, soft and gentle, on my inner thigh.
It vanished.
The touch was gone.
It resurfaced on my chest. I flinched in surprise.
“Shhh.”
I nodded under my pillow.
The touch moved along my rib cage to the curve of my belly, lightly tickling hairs, smoothing goose pimples.
I imagined her eyes monitoring my cock as it bobbed, seeking her, anticipating her touch.
The touch vanished.
I quivered.
I needed it.
I was jonesing.
The touch reappeared at my hip.
It traced across my body, raking hairs, avoiding the part of my body that most craved it.
The touch vanished.
I waited, wondering when it would recur, where I would feel it next.
The touch returned at the base of my cock.
Electricity surged through my body.
As the touch traced its way slowly up my cock, I could distinguish its every part—the thickly swollen bottom, the engorged sides, the aching head.
The touch took so long to traverse my cock, I felt it must have grown many times its normal size. Blind under the pillow, I visualized my body like a freeway, the touch a slow moving vehicle taking the scenic route across the continent of my body.
The touch vanished.
I waited.
I tried to slow my breath, to wait patiently.
She hovered over me.
Her mouth took my nipple.
Again, a flinch at the unexpected.
The touch retuned to sooth me, resting on my belly.
The air under the pillow was stale and warm. I drew it slowly into my nostrils, keeping my mouth shut.
Her mouth and the touch moved lightly over my body, but quickly now. The anticipation was crushing.
Please, please, please.
Her mouth was close to my cock now. I could feel her breath on my shaft.
Please, please, please.
Her mouth took me.
I shivered.
My whole body was on her tongue.
She took me slowly, gingerly, exploring with her mouth the terrain staked out by her touch.
My mind took refuge with me under the pillow. The corporeal was left to fend for itself.
I dared to thrust slightly.
Her palms pressed down on my hips, arresting me.
She was fucking me.
I had to surrender.
I turned my head to bite my arm.
Give in, give in.
I could stand it no longer.
I threw off the pillow.
Emma looked up. She took my cock from her mouth.
“Excuse me?”
“Please. I have to fuck you.”
She held my cock in one hand, massaging it with the other.
“No.”
“Please. I really need to feel you cum.”
Emma stood and retrieved the pillow.
“No.”
“Emma, please . . . “
My plea trailed off under the pillow.
The next time I requested a blowjob, Emma smiled.
She would be happy to suck my cock, she said.
She put a pillowcase over my head.
She tied my wrists to the bed.
She took a long tour.
She insisted that I cum.
As I lay panting afterwards, she laughed.
“You are no kind of dom,” she teased. “You are my submissive little girl.”
Inside the pillowcase, I smiled.
I had a secret.
I had a secret boyfriend.
I had a secret dom boyfriend.
I kept him hidden inside a pretty girl.
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bisexual
erotica
oral sex
BDSM
fucking
Bukkake Circle Jerk
The boys looked at one another in nervous silence.
Emma and I sat on the couch, calmly sipping wine.
“Thanks again for being prompt, fellows,” I said. “We said we’d get going at seven, and its seven now. We are expecting two more men—let’s give them a minute or two more, but that’s all the waiting we’ll do.”
“Okay,” the tall boy said.
“Fair enough,” the graduate student nodded.
The actor coughed.
Emma smiled at him.
He smiled back.
I furnished chit chat.
After a few minutes, I put down my glass.
“Okay, well, we’ll miss those other two fellows, but we need to get started. Just let me review the rules.”
“Good,” the tall boy said.
“Now, you were each chosen because you’re good looking and bi.”
“Bi curious,” the graduate student corrected.
“Right, bi or bi curious,” I continued. “I’m bi, and Emma and I like watching guys go at it, so feel free to interact with one another . . . just, you know, ask first.”
“That’s really hot to watch,” Emma agreed.
“Of course, I’m fine with you touching me. But you are not permitted to touch Emma below the waist.”
“Right,” the tall boy said.
“Cool,” the graduate student said.
The actor nodded.
“Okay, so we will all be nude. I’ll be fucking Emma.” I took her hand. She tipped her head to my shoulder. “You’ll be watching and jerking off.”
“Or fooling around with each other,” Emma added.
“Right, or with each other. Now, Emma is not going to suddenly charge her mind and want a gangbang or to give you all blowjobs, so seriously, respect our limits. Also, Emma and I don’t mind conversation during sex, but we don’t take directions.”
“Yeah, we already know how to do it,” Emma smiled.
“And very well, I might add. Now, when you cum, you should aim at Emma, but not at her face. She has great tits, so that’s a convenient target. After that, we’re done with you and you need to leave. All clear?”
“Right,” the tall boy said.
“Gotcha,” the graduate student said.
The actor smiled at Emma.
Emma smiled back.
“Right then, so let’s get going.” I stood. I raised Emma’s hand. “This way to the bedroom.”
I led the party down the hallway.
The boys assembled at the foot of my bed.
“Okay gents, if you will please undress, I will tend to Emma.” I stepped forward to kiss her.
She gently returned my kiss.
I closed my eyes to the sound of zippers.
The boys were stripped to underwear as I unbuttoned her shirt.
I glanced over. “You should be fully nude, guys.”
They glanced shyly at one another. The actor lowered his shorts. The other two followed suit.
Their cocks sprang into the room.
I turned Emma’s face. “Look at the handsome men, how excited they are,” I said.
“I can see that they are,” she said.
I removed her bra.
I unfastened her pants.
I took her panties.
Emma was nude.
I stood aside to give the boys an unobstructed view.
“She’s pretty, right?” I smiled. “It’s all right, you can stare.”
I undressed as the boys filled their eyes. Their hands found their cocks.
I lay Emma back on the pillows.
By reflex, she closed her eyes.
“Gather around, boys. Enjoy yourselves while I lick Emma.”
I found her already wet.
As I sucked her clit, I kept my eyes on Emma and the boys crowding to her side. She drifted into the pleasure of my mouth, her eyes remaining closed.
She gave the boys this moment to gaze at her, without making eye contact.
The actor was bold, He lowered a hand to caress her breast.
The other two looked at me.
I nodded. This was within limits.
Three hands massaged her breasts, their partners busily tugging three cocks.
Emma orgasmed quietly.
I took a condom from my drawer.
We were all silent as I entered her. Emma’s small moan sounded large. That sound was soon echoing away to my kisses.
I put aside the boys for a moment, intent on Emma and her body, and my body in hers.
She opened her eyes to mine.
I smiled. I couldn’t really help it.
Emma pulls grins from me.
I rested my forehead on hers, pushing thoughts through our skulls.
I remembered that we were the main attraction, and kissed her goodbye. I pulled back, allowing six eyes to join mine in appreciating Emma’s beauty.
I pressed her thighs back.
I took her face in my palm.
I fucked her deep and steady.
The boys pressed forward, as if they could get any closer. It was instinctive—they were lured to sex.
Emma looked at me, and glanced at the boys.
She reached up and took a cock in each hand.
She jerked as I fucked her.
I reached to my side and took the remaining cock in hand, completing the circuit.
We were wired.
Five people, mostly strangers, lost to the world for now, deep inside sex.
The phone rang, singling someone at my entry. One of the two lost recruits had finally arrived. I glanced at my clock—he was about twenty minutes behind schedule.
He had come all the way from the farthest reaches of Brooklyn.
“Oh, that’s sad,” I smiled to Emma, fucking away. “That’s another boy at the door. Too bad he’s late.”
“Yeah, loser,” she said.
Her voice was so calm.
I held her face with both hands now, and fucked harder.
Her pale cheeks were flush.
I could just stare at her.
Certainly, the boys were.
Right—the boys. I needed to move this along.
“You look so pretty with those dicks, Emma.”
“Oh, thanks,” she smiled, jerking her two men.
“Which one would you like for me to suck?”
She looked from side to side, from the graduate student to the actor.
“Hmmm . . . this one.” She offered me the actor’s cock.
“Why, thank you dear.”
I glanced to the actor before swallowing him whole.
I was glad she picked him. The actor was easy on the eyes, with wavy brown hair and a trim slender body. His pubic hair was fastidiously groomed, as though he had a little too much time on his hands.
She had kept the bigger dick for herself. The graduate student groaned to her attentions.
I stretched an arm to find the tall boy’s cock still within reach.
My cock grew still further into Emma.
“Okay, man, I’m going to blow.”
The actor pulled out of my mouth.
Eight eyes moved to his cock.
He looked down as he stroked.
“I’m going to cum on your tits,” he breathed to Emma.
“Go ahead,” she smiled, in her calm, cool voice.
I gave her some deep thrusts.
“Shit,” he whispered. “Okay, okay . . .”
He unleashed a torrent.
His shot glanced Emma’s chin, cascading over her shoulders and chest.
The actor lurched, stroking hard.
“Shit man, I’m going to cum,” the graduate student moaned.
All eyes turned to him.
He took his cock from Emma and stroked it.
He leaned forward and neatly shot across Emma’s tits.
“Beauty.” I admired as he convulsed.
“Okay, I’m up,” the tall boy said.
He pushed forward on his knees. The graduate student made way.
What is this? I thought to Emma. Who choreographed this porno?
The boys are all cumming at once?
The tall boy jerked his thick cock. I cupped his balls in my hands.
“God, man,” I said. “Look how fucking hot she is, covered in jism.”
“Uh huh . . .”
She touched his hip.
“Her pussy is so tight too, she is so turned on.”
“Uh huh . . .”
“I’m going to fuck her to an orgasm when you shoot.”
“Oh, God . . .”
The tall boy pressed forward and shot a long loop across Emma. The leading edge hit the actor; most pooled on her belly.
“Fuck, man,” I admired.
He groaned as a second wave took over his body.
Emma closed her eyes.
I fucked her to climax.
We kept fucking as the boys cleaned up and dressed.
I slowed as they put on shoes.
“Hey, thanks for having us,” the graduate student said, offering a hand.
I shook it.
“Thanks for being had,” I smiled.
“Bye.” Emma waved.
The actor kissed her cheek.
The tall boy patted my back.
“You two are fucking hot,” he said.
“Anytime you want,” I said. “You boys okay showing yourselves out? I’d like to, you know, keep at this.”
“Sure man,” the tall boy laughed. “Next time.”
“Sure thing. Say ‘bye’ Emma.”
“I already did.”
“Right. So long fellows.”
The actor and graduate student left. The tall boy lingered for a moment in the doorway, then he too was gone.
I held Emma close, pressing cum between our flesh as I kissed her.
In time, my cum would mingle with the rest.
We lay next to one another, talking and holding hands.
We showered.
I made dinner.
We sipped bourbon as we watched “Nip/Tuck.”
I held her as she slept.
sex
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Emma and I sat on the couch, calmly sipping wine.
“Thanks again for being prompt, fellows,” I said. “We said we’d get going at seven, and its seven now. We are expecting two more men—let’s give them a minute or two more, but that’s all the waiting we’ll do.”
“Okay,” the tall boy said.
“Fair enough,” the graduate student nodded.
The actor coughed.
Emma smiled at him.
He smiled back.
I furnished chit chat.
After a few minutes, I put down my glass.
“Okay, well, we’ll miss those other two fellows, but we need to get started. Just let me review the rules.”
“Good,” the tall boy said.
“Now, you were each chosen because you’re good looking and bi.”
“Bi curious,” the graduate student corrected.
“Right, bi or bi curious,” I continued. “I’m bi, and Emma and I like watching guys go at it, so feel free to interact with one another . . . just, you know, ask first.”
“That’s really hot to watch,” Emma agreed.
“Of course, I’m fine with you touching me. But you are not permitted to touch Emma below the waist.”
“Right,” the tall boy said.
“Cool,” the graduate student said.
The actor nodded.
“Okay, so we will all be nude. I’ll be fucking Emma.” I took her hand. She tipped her head to my shoulder. “You’ll be watching and jerking off.”
“Or fooling around with each other,” Emma added.
“Right, or with each other. Now, Emma is not going to suddenly charge her mind and want a gangbang or to give you all blowjobs, so seriously, respect our limits. Also, Emma and I don’t mind conversation during sex, but we don’t take directions.”
“Yeah, we already know how to do it,” Emma smiled.
“And very well, I might add. Now, when you cum, you should aim at Emma, but not at her face. She has great tits, so that’s a convenient target. After that, we’re done with you and you need to leave. All clear?”
“Right,” the tall boy said.
“Gotcha,” the graduate student said.
The actor smiled at Emma.
Emma smiled back.
“Right then, so let’s get going.” I stood. I raised Emma’s hand. “This way to the bedroom.”
I led the party down the hallway.
The boys assembled at the foot of my bed.
“Okay gents, if you will please undress, I will tend to Emma.” I stepped forward to kiss her.
She gently returned my kiss.
I closed my eyes to the sound of zippers.
The boys were stripped to underwear as I unbuttoned her shirt.
I glanced over. “You should be fully nude, guys.”
They glanced shyly at one another. The actor lowered his shorts. The other two followed suit.
Their cocks sprang into the room.
I turned Emma’s face. “Look at the handsome men, how excited they are,” I said.
“I can see that they are,” she said.
I removed her bra.
I unfastened her pants.
I took her panties.
Emma was nude.
I stood aside to give the boys an unobstructed view.
“She’s pretty, right?” I smiled. “It’s all right, you can stare.”
I undressed as the boys filled their eyes. Their hands found their cocks.
I lay Emma back on the pillows.
By reflex, she closed her eyes.
“Gather around, boys. Enjoy yourselves while I lick Emma.”
I found her already wet.
As I sucked her clit, I kept my eyes on Emma and the boys crowding to her side. She drifted into the pleasure of my mouth, her eyes remaining closed.
She gave the boys this moment to gaze at her, without making eye contact.
The actor was bold, He lowered a hand to caress her breast.
The other two looked at me.
I nodded. This was within limits.
Three hands massaged her breasts, their partners busily tugging three cocks.
Emma orgasmed quietly.
I took a condom from my drawer.
We were all silent as I entered her. Emma’s small moan sounded large. That sound was soon echoing away to my kisses.
I put aside the boys for a moment, intent on Emma and her body, and my body in hers.
She opened her eyes to mine.
I smiled. I couldn’t really help it.
Emma pulls grins from me.
I rested my forehead on hers, pushing thoughts through our skulls.
I remembered that we were the main attraction, and kissed her goodbye. I pulled back, allowing six eyes to join mine in appreciating Emma’s beauty.
I pressed her thighs back.
I took her face in my palm.
I fucked her deep and steady.
The boys pressed forward, as if they could get any closer. It was instinctive—they were lured to sex.
Emma looked at me, and glanced at the boys.
She reached up and took a cock in each hand.
She jerked as I fucked her.
I reached to my side and took the remaining cock in hand, completing the circuit.
We were wired.
Five people, mostly strangers, lost to the world for now, deep inside sex.
The phone rang, singling someone at my entry. One of the two lost recruits had finally arrived. I glanced at my clock—he was about twenty minutes behind schedule.
He had come all the way from the farthest reaches of Brooklyn.
“Oh, that’s sad,” I smiled to Emma, fucking away. “That’s another boy at the door. Too bad he’s late.”
“Yeah, loser,” she said.
Her voice was so calm.
I held her face with both hands now, and fucked harder.
Her pale cheeks were flush.
I could just stare at her.
Certainly, the boys were.
Right—the boys. I needed to move this along.
“You look so pretty with those dicks, Emma.”
“Oh, thanks,” she smiled, jerking her two men.
“Which one would you like for me to suck?”
She looked from side to side, from the graduate student to the actor.
“Hmmm . . . this one.” She offered me the actor’s cock.
“Why, thank you dear.”
I glanced to the actor before swallowing him whole.
I was glad she picked him. The actor was easy on the eyes, with wavy brown hair and a trim slender body. His pubic hair was fastidiously groomed, as though he had a little too much time on his hands.
She had kept the bigger dick for herself. The graduate student groaned to her attentions.
I stretched an arm to find the tall boy’s cock still within reach.
My cock grew still further into Emma.
“Okay, man, I’m going to blow.”
The actor pulled out of my mouth.
Eight eyes moved to his cock.
He looked down as he stroked.
“I’m going to cum on your tits,” he breathed to Emma.
“Go ahead,” she smiled, in her calm, cool voice.
I gave her some deep thrusts.
“Shit,” he whispered. “Okay, okay . . .”
He unleashed a torrent.
His shot glanced Emma’s chin, cascading over her shoulders and chest.
The actor lurched, stroking hard.
“Shit man, I’m going to cum,” the graduate student moaned.
All eyes turned to him.
He took his cock from Emma and stroked it.
He leaned forward and neatly shot across Emma’s tits.
“Beauty.” I admired as he convulsed.
“Okay, I’m up,” the tall boy said.
He pushed forward on his knees. The graduate student made way.
What is this? I thought to Emma. Who choreographed this porno?
The boys are all cumming at once?
The tall boy jerked his thick cock. I cupped his balls in my hands.
“God, man,” I said. “Look how fucking hot she is, covered in jism.”
“Uh huh . . .”
She touched his hip.
“Her pussy is so tight too, she is so turned on.”
“Uh huh . . .”
“I’m going to fuck her to an orgasm when you shoot.”
“Oh, God . . .”
The tall boy pressed forward and shot a long loop across Emma. The leading edge hit the actor; most pooled on her belly.
“Fuck, man,” I admired.
He groaned as a second wave took over his body.
Emma closed her eyes.
I fucked her to climax.
We kept fucking as the boys cleaned up and dressed.
I slowed as they put on shoes.
“Hey, thanks for having us,” the graduate student said, offering a hand.
I shook it.
“Thanks for being had,” I smiled.
“Bye.” Emma waved.
The actor kissed her cheek.
The tall boy patted my back.
“You two are fucking hot,” he said.
“Anytime you want,” I said. “You boys okay showing yourselves out? I’d like to, you know, keep at this.”
“Sure man,” the tall boy laughed. “Next time.”
“Sure thing. Say ‘bye’ Emma.”
“I already did.”
“Right. So long fellows.”
The actor and graduate student left. The tall boy lingered for a moment in the doorway, then he too was gone.
I held Emma close, pressing cum between our flesh as I kissed her.
In time, my cum would mingle with the rest.
We lay next to one another, talking and holding hands.
We showered.
I made dinner.
We sipped bourbon as we watched “Nip/Tuck.”
I held her as she slept.
sex
sexblogs
bisexual
erotica
oral sex
bukkake
masturbation
fucking
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