Contemporary

"Are you Nola Dean?" the strange man asked.

She spun her head toward him, nodding, stunned and speechless. Her heart stopped short, then raced uncontrollably. "Uh huh, I'm Nola," she squeaked.

In the blink of an eye, he forced his arm through the small back window, flipped the lock, then yanked open the door. "Don't make a sound if you wanna stay alive," he threatened, glaring sideways, then wrenched her out of the car.

The dark, curly hair of his arm swiped hers. She quivered. An inconspicuous lump beneath his jacket pocket soured her stomach. She held her breath but was unable to halt the tears. Her throat constricted. Words froze on her tongue. A flash of heat tingled over every inch of her skin.

His jaw muscles twitched.

"Can I at least grab my purse?" She flinched at the sudden gust of wind whistling between them.

"Go ahead, but leave your keys and cell on the floorboard." He blinked repeatedly, then quilted his wine-barrel chest over her and hovered while she reached inside.

She pulled herself out of the vehicle, rifled through the contents of her bag and tossed the keys on the seat.

They stood eye to eye, sneering at each other.

"I'm watching you and you'd better not say a word." His pungent odor saturated the space between them.

His hot breath sent a chill down her frozen spine. She shuddered and dug her fingernails into the soft leather of her purse. Her wobbly knees ached.

He jammed her against the car and forced her to inch along, scraping the heels of her shoes against the pavement. She rose up on tiptoes, squirming while swatting the air.

"Who the hell are you? What do you want with me? You're tearing my dress!" His smug silence provoked her. She elbowed him and tried to slither from his hold.

He locked his hand on her shoulder. "If you don't resist, you'll be more comfortable," he warned while dragging her along.

"You're hurting me! Who are you?"

“Well,” he said, his voice silky smooth and deeply delicious, “you must be the guy who answered the ad. You’re certainly tall, dark and handsome.”

“Ah, well I…” Darcy was surprised. “That’s me.” He felt himself blushing.

The other man stood aside and held the door open. “Come in. You’re in the right place.”

Darcy narrowed his eyes, and hesitantly walked inside. “I am?”

The young man closed the door behind him. “Yes.”

“I’ve been expecting you. I’m Ryan.” He held out his hand, and Darcy clutched it for a second in his, then released it.

“Hi, Ryan. I’m Darcy. I wasn’t sure if she would want to go to dinner or…you see my brother responded to the ad and I didn’t get a lot of information. I usually don’t do this. I mean, I have never done this. I do know she likes to play chess though,” he pointed out with a smile. “I’m no chess player. Maybe she can teach me.” He knew he was rambling.

Ryan looked at him for a moment. “Ah, I don’t follow. Who plays chess?”

“Well,” he hesitated, “that’s what my brother told me. He said she liked to play chess. Maybe he got it wrong. It doesn’t matter, like I said, I don’t play so…”

“Who exactly is she?” Ryan narrowed his eyes.

“I’m sorry I don’t know the name and…she’s blonde and…”

Ryan didn’t seem to be listening. He slowly ran his gaze over him and smiled. “You’re in great shape. I bet you have a fantastic body.”

Darcy opened his mouth, then closed it. He felt himself flush. “Ah…thanks, I work out, probably not as much as I should.” He focussed now on his surroundings. “Actually, I can’t stay long. I have to work out in the morning before work and…” Anything was better than staring at him like an idiot. They were standing in an entrance where a small table sat, topped by a tiny lamp, which allotted only a small amount of light. Ahead of him, he could see another room, possibly a living room with a staircase on the left, which obviously led to the second floor. Everything was in pastels, from the colours on the wall and the paintings, which were of Greek landmarks and mythological hero’s, to the carpets on the floor…all beige and mocha.

“Follow me,” Ryan said, crooking his finger. “We’ll go and sit down.”

“I can wait here if—”

“Wait here? Why would you want to do that? Come on in,” he said, flashing a smile. “I won’t bite.”

Darcy followed him down the hallway, then into the living room. His gaze moved over his shoulders, and his back, to the swell of his ass in tight ripped jeans, then quickly back up to his hair again. He swallowed.

“Have a seat,” he said, indicating the sofa. “I’ve really been looking forward to this. It’s kind of a gift to myself. It’s a relief really to finally meet you. I’ve been a little nervous about this.”

Darcy folded his hands in his lap as he sat on the black leather sofa. Gift? That was odd, he thought. “Why a gift for you? You mean it’s a gift for her, don’t you?”

Now as she gazed down the length of the bar, watching her drool-worthy prey serve patrons with deft, practiced motions, Miranda was certain he was a natural blond. She guessed his pubic hair would be a shade or so darker. More to the point, would it surround a cock long and thick enough to satisfy her? For a moment, she let herself imagine how that cock might feel, thrusting into her vagina from behind.

        Flooded with fresh heat, she shifted on her barstool to examine his navy, uniform pants. Yep, even from a distance she could see there was weight behind his zipper, plus he had a stellar ass, taut, but well-curved. Better and better. Finally, she saw his hips shift in her direction. She sat up straighter, watching him approach with athletic grace and a welcoming smile.

        "Hello. Sorry to keep you waiting."

        Miranda's red-glossed mouth curved in response. "That's all right. I can see you're busy."

        "Yeah, we've got two, large conventions booked in for the rest of the week."

        His face was riveting, strong, square jaw, full mouth with a sumptuous lower lip and vivid blue eyes that spoke of Celtic blood. Late twenties Miranda guessed, roughly thirteen years younger than her. As her gaze drifted from the strong column of his throat, over his wide chest and the rock-hard biceps, stretching the short sleeves of his white shirt, Miranda almost purred with anticipation. "I'll have a double Scotch," she told him, "single malt with one ice cube."

        Aware his eyes were taking a good look as she spoke. Miranda wondered what he perceived. Though she wasn't conventionally beautiful, her nose a little large, most men found her looks intriguing. She was hoping this handsome, young stranger saw a woman very much in her prime. Those long hours in the gym and been worth it. Her upper body was now showing plenty of definition. Her full breasts nicely presented in the scooped-neckline of her form-fitting dress. And while her dark, shoulder-length hair was deliberately disheveled, her makeup and mascara had been skillfully applied to accentuate her best feature--her large, up-tilted, whisky-colored eyes.

        "Would you like to see the bar menu?" he asked. "I can recommend the fantail shrimp?"

        Savoring the sound of his Yorkshire brogue, tinged by a just-awakened huskiness, Miranda felt her body start to lubricate. She gave him her sexiest smile. "No, I'm good, thanks, just the scotch."

        His gaze lingered on her face before he nodded. "Right-o, just be a tick."

        As he moved to fix her drink, Miranda took in more details. The lights behind the bar highlighted the fine golden hair on his muscle-corded forearms. His hands were surprisingly elegant, the fingers long and lean with well-kept nails.

        Visualizing those competent fingers slipping beneath her black thong, Miranda wondered if he'd be surprised to find her slick vulva denuded of hair. Mmm. Maybe I won't have him take me from behind first time…perhaps I'll straddle him--

        "There you are, madam, our finest, single malt."

        Miranda looked up sharply, inhaling the smoky aroma of Scotch as he placed a glass in front of her, along with a fresh bowl of nuts.

        He stared into her watchful eyes. "Let me know if you need anything else."

        With her pussy getting wetter by the second, desperate to have it sliding over his cock, Miranda took the bull by the horns. "As a matter of fact, there is something else…"

        Starting to move away, Blondie, as she now thought of him, glanced over his shoulder, looking even more appealing as he quirked a fair eyebrow over those intensely blue eyes. "Hungry after all?"

        You have no idea. She moved slightly so one spaghetti strap of her dress slid down her shoulder. Her prey followed the motion. His gaze a few degrees hotter when it returned to her face. Miranda stared steadily. "If you're not encumbered, I'd really like to have you."

        She watched his pupils flare, wondering if this was a first for him. Though she'd never had trouble attracting the opposite sex, as fuckable as this guy was, he had to have oodles of women, and men, dying to get naked with him. She took a hasty sip of Scotch, preparing herself for rejection. Much to her relief, she saw a flicker of interest in his gaze.

“I’d like to get down to some serious lovemaking, but so far you’re not exactly going along with the program. You don’t want much in a man, do you? Just total perfection. You prayed for me, Tony. Why can’t you accept the unseen, the invisible is as powerful as that which is visible?”

Was this a trick question? Had I somebody smoked some wacky tobaccy and not even known it? I didn’t even know how to respond to this guy, but he was brushing at some imaginary thing on his powerful, muscular, naked thigh and I jerked my mind back to the issue at hand.

Just how did this guy get in my shower?

“You spoke to the ancients. They do…occasionally listen, you know.” He smiled, enjoying some private joke. Were there hidden cameras in this joint? Were the cast and crew of Lava Mama having a whole heap of fun at my expense?

 As I scanned the walls and ceiling for hardware, he sighed.

“You have three choices, Tony. Get on the internet and find nothing. Go next door and keep getting insulted for being chubby, or get royally fucked right now. By me. I’m very good at it. You…made me that way.”

I felt faint. “I…made you that way?”

He looked at me blankly. “Didn’t you pray for me on Haleakala?”

I gaped at him, a lump forming in my throat. In my whole life, I’d never had a single prayer answered. Was this real? Or was there some cruel prank at play here?

“Pranks are for kids.” The naked man’s fingers were at the waistband of my jeans. “And I’m not a kid.” There was sexual fire and something else between us…I was too confused to say exactly what. “I really want you. Tony, I…” Our eyes connected as his skin met mine. I hadn’t had another man touch me in so long I was ready to leap out of my own body.

We attacked each other’s mouths. The stranger’s kisses were long, deep and very intense. We held onto each other, our cocks hardening and then his fingers were unbuttoning my pants. He got to his knees, and I held my stomach in, hoping my not-so-washboard tummy wouldn’t put him off in any way. I was so self conscious, but the delicious hottie in my kitchen was intent on my cock. At first he just felt it, touching it, as if with astonishment, dropping kisses here and there. I looked down, helpless with a mixture of lust and surprise. He kept stroking it, telling me how beautiful it was and I felt nothing but a fresh surge of desire seeing a beautiful guy drooling over my cock.

“I can’t wait anymore,” he muttered. “I have to taste you.” He took the head of my cock into his mouth and I let out a scream.

“Yeeeeessss!”

He took his mouth off me again.

“Noooooo!”

He picked me up and carried me, taking me to the living room, depositing me on the floor in front of the fireplace. He took his time taking everything off me and I couldn’t keep my eyes off that rigid cock, those hands or that mouth. He kissed me everywhere, letting his fingers run over my body, and I found myself thinking, thank God I use body lotion. It was like a religion with me.

His fingers teased my nipples, my balls, my cock, my toes, my lips, my cock…on and on, back and forth. I jokingly thought to myself, he missed a spot over my left elbow, and suddenly his mouth was there. He lowered himself onto my body and we felt each other naked for the first time.

During one fateful night of death and loss, twenty years ago, Mitchell lost almost everything he held dear. Not only were his parents murdered, but his younger brothers were kidnapped and thought lost forever. Since then, Mitchell has not only had to lead the felines in rebuilding their society, but he's had to protect them from future attacks. This leaves little time for his own wants and needs.

Being the second born, wolf shifter Dean, has always lived to serve others. He's never disobeyed orders, even when one of them dictated that he had to give up a man he loved. Broken and alone, Dean vowed never to open his heart to another. Then both of their lives are turned upside down when it's discovered that a rogue wolf from Dean's pack is holding one of Mitchell's lost brothers captive.
Jean-Luc had taught me so much about making love to a man. Sometimes, yes, we fucked like bunnies, sometimes, like now, he wanted it to be a spiritual experience. I could always tell when he was in that mood. His eyes grew smoky and there was a stillness in him I never found in another human being. I just adored every ounce of his high places. He was so Buddha-like it was amazing.

"Take your clothes off, baby." He shut our bedroom door on the world and he walked into the bathroom. I heard the bath taps running. Christ. I knew what was in store for me. Was it possible to die from sensual overload?

I smelled good things. Fig, mint…something else. A dash of chocolate oil. My man was a connoisseur of good eats in the kitchen and in the bedroom. He'd bought kama sutra oils from Europe that stimulated sexual energy. The great thing about them was they entered your pores in the bath in a more subtle way than massaging them into the skin. They came out as your body heat increased during sex and were completely edible. So I got to fuck my man and eat him, too.

He took off his clothes and I admired his naked beauty. We worked off our healthy appetites with a lot of sex and working out. Sex was my preferred method, for sure. His lovely cock started to harden against his thigh and he reached out a hand to me. He allowed me to tongue the ankh tattoo at his hipbone. He pulled away from me as my tongue tried moving to his luscious cock.

Not so fast, mister. I could read his thoughts as clearly as if they were my own. He agitated the oil in the water with his hands, holding them out to me.

I felt better the second I slipped into the satiny liquid.

My gaze feasted on his cock, which was hard now. Damn! Mine was, too. I wanted him for God's sake. I wanted to be in him, guiding his own cock in my hand to glorious ecstasy.

He sat in the water, his cock bobbing to the surface. So did mine, but he ignored it. He focused instead on pouring the warm bath water over my shoulders and back, down my front, lingering across my heart. His hand paused and my heartbeat slowed. "I love your heart," he said, moving his hand away and scooping water over me again.

I loved this ritual. It was my turn next. I'd never focused before on how nice it felt to be bathed by someone, to feel the gentle force of water droplets against my skin. Just as he'd once taught me to take my time exploring the small island on which we'd met, he'd since taught me to savor the final moment of orgasmic bliss. Sometimes the pleasure was so strong, I thought I would die from it. I knew it would be one heck of a way to go, but what I wanted more than anything was to keep this life-force, to keep him with me, for as long as humanly possible.

His hands moved to the underside of my balls. I felt the gentle tug as he stroked all the secret, soft places. He stroked once, twice at my ass hole and I thought I might come right there and then, but then his hands moved down my legs and under my feet. He stopped when my feet rested in his palms.

It was now my turn. I used to try and race through these rituals of Jean-Luc's, until he showed me the astonishing, sacred fulfillment we could both achieve by focusing on being in the moment.

I loved the feel of his skin, the muscles underneath. I wanted a million years, a thousand children with him. When I reached his feet and our gazes met, I don't think our cocks had ever been harder. 

I grinned at the cute valet, whose name was Justino. He took my name and room number and two hours later we were driving back toward Kona in his car, a ramshackle beach cruiser that had a surprising amount of power for a vehicle that looked like it was held together with rubber bands.

“Boa noite,” he grinned at me.

“Is that good evening?”

He nodded. “In Portuguese.”

I was intrigued. I’d never been out with a Portuguese man before, but my internet wanderings had led me to a few who seemed notorious cruisers.

 “In the morning I have to be back at work and I can drive you,” he told me, and I was impressed with his assumption that he was going to get lucky with me. His hand went between my legs and he worked on the zipper of my jeans, his eyes never straying from the road. His fingers snaked into my boxer-briefs and he tsk-tsked over my iffy stiffy.

“How long has it been since you had a man?” he asked me.

“Too long,” I gasped as I became rock hard and his head went straight to my crotch…as he was driving! I helped steer the wheel to bring Justino’s car to the shoulder of the road, my hips and ass bucked and jumped under his tongue and determined strokes. He licked the head of my cock, ran his tongue along the sides of my shaft and held my balls in his hand as he started to suck in an expert way. When I started to come, he took his mouth off me, laughing as I shot all over the place.

“You make a lot of come. You need.” He stroked me to get the last of my juices, his large, expressive eyes lowered in concentration.

“For one hundred dollars you can come in my mouth, for five hundred, you can fuck me in the ass. I don’t usually like bumming, but for you…” He shrugged.

Bumming? I lost my interest in going anywhere with him, but we were both covered in my come. What a crazy experience! Are there any normal gay guys in Hawaii? My thoughts strayed to Byron and I wondered if his boyfriend appreciated what a nice guy he had there.

“You want me to pay you?” I asked Justino, who let go of my cock. He reached into the glove compartment and brought out a box of tissues. We wiped ourselves down and found ourselves laughing.

“Nah…I like you. You’re meigo…sweet. We can have fun. You pay me if it’s good. Yeah?”

“No. I’m going back to the hotel.”

“Nah…come on, we make fun time.” He gave me a hot kiss that left no doubt that we would have fun and he swung the car back on the road. 

I flashed my membership card. The twink on the front desk smiled at me. He was a sweet little cocksucker who reminded me a lot of my favorite gay porn star, Leo Giamani, but I wanted to scope the locker and steam rooms.

There were a few loiterers in both, nothing worth investigating. I was starting to think my urge for a hot fuck after the biggest haul in my personal memory was going to be a bust.

And then, I saw him.

Man, he was hot. He had a body that appealed to my sense of aesthetics. His skin tone was the color of milky coffee, his hair dark. Nice cock, thick, big, half-hard. He was running his hands through his hair, about to turn off the shower taps when he saw me.

We traded glances and he gave me a half-smile.

I held up a finger and his smile widened a fraction. I quickly dumped my stuff in a locker, grabbed a lambskin condom and joined him in the shower.

His gaze fell on my cock, which was big, hard and ready to play.

Fuck, he mouthed and turned around. His face was beautiful, his ass even sweeter. Hands splayed against the wall, water ran down his back and I heard him moan as I tore the package open with my teeth and rolled that rubber over the length of my shaft. I stroked it down, smoothing out the ridges and ran my hands over his ass. His skin was warm. My thumbs reached into his ass crack. Nice and tight.

My fingers ran over his hole and he squirmed against them. Shit, he was ready. I inched my cock toward his ass and felt the heat before I was even close. I sliced into him and felt his hole resist, then embrace me. I fucked him slowly at first and he pushed into my hips. I gripped him with both hands, but I didn't need to worry. His muscular legs were planted firmly on the floor and he wanted to be fucked.

I kept one hand on his ass, moving the other around his belly, reaching between his thighs to stroke him off. I like the feeling of a guy coming when I am. I love the way their ass muscles bear down on my cock. Hell, if he's bringing me heaven, I should save a slice for him.

We fucked like we'd been doing it forever. He anticipated every move I made. And yet…and yet it was new and exciting. The thrill of being caught kept me hard until I felt his come spurt over my fingers and splash the wall. My cock was caught in his grip and I shot inside him, my mouth moving to his neck. I wanted to bite him, don't ask me why. I never want to kiss the guys I fuck, but this one seemed surprised, then turned his face and his tongue ran right across my lips and I thought I would never stop coming. 

“I did manage to pick up a few interesting sex secrets from the Orient while I was you know…down there.” Tem pointed to the ground.

“Did you, now?”

“Oh, yes. A eunuch who was very mean at first, later became nice. He told me he worked for a sultan and he was supposed to look after the sultan’s wives and he watched them fuck.”

“I bet he picked up a lot of cool tricks.”

“There’s one with chopsticks I am anxious to try.”

“Chopsticks, eh?”

He got up from our bed and left the room, despite my bleat of protest. Moontime turned his back to me until his daddy returned and the cat’s head swiveled around, one eye open, in case fish was involved.

Tem got busy with a pair of black lacquered chopsticks in his fingers.

“Kiss me,” he whispered and I did. With him in my arms, his mouth on mine, I could forget all the demons, my own and everybody else’s. Yes, life was good again. My tongue moved of its own accord down his neck, past my favorite feeding spots on his throat. I felt the racing pulse there and took my time, exploring every sexy inch of him. Tem, however, had other ideas.

“The geisha used chopsticks to hold the man's testicles in a way to increase blood flow, like this.” Tem took my balls in his interesting little vice grip. “Maybe we need to practice it baby, just to be exact.”

“Yes,” I murmured. “We need to make sure it works.”

“I think it would work best with a blow job and I would be certain not to squeeze to tight.” Tem’s head dropped to my thigh and he started to lick and suck my balls.

He raised his head again. “I love your ass, Div, and I never usually neglect it, but this particular method focuses on the balls and cock.”

All I could say was, “Fuck.”

“I love the idea of mixing it up for you, baby…getting your balls in my grip and sucking them…a mixture of sweet and savage…and a few light licks on your perineum and a squeeze of the chopsticks and then hurry up to the main course…your leaking cock.”

My eyes were half closed with the intensity of feeling. I thought my balls would snap off, at the same time, the pressure did produce sensations that were extraordinary. Every lick was like a little electric current shooting through me. Man, Tem had already mastered the art of providing me with multiple sensations as he gave me head, but this was spectacular. He kept his fingers and tongue moving and the chopsticks rocking back and forth.

I got so excited and I knew Tem felt it, too. His own cock was so hard…I reached down to touch it, but he resisted, wanting me to enjoy myself. I put my foot between his legs and rubbed his cock. I loved the feeling of my skin against his rigid cock and he moaned as he took my whole cock into his mouth. I came so hard I was seeing stars, only then did he release me. The orgasm did not stop. I’d stopped shooting, but I was still coming and Tem kept sucking me. We were going to need a hell of a lot more chopsticks in our future. 

“Oh, Francois.”

He didn’t say a word. His hand grew a little more insistent at my back and he steered me inside the most stunning room I had ever been in. Ever. The room was huge and magnificent, opening onto a lanai on which stood a chaise and beyond it, a spectacular view of Diamond Head.

Francois stood behind me, his hands sliding down my hips, moving inward to my crotch, resting right on my cock. I knew loved my cock and indeed, enjoyed sucking it for hours.

His fingers moved to the belt buckle keeping him from what he wanted. I turned my face up to meet his and he kissed me, his tongue moving into my mouth as his hands negotiated my zipper. We soon got into a frenzy. We stripped each other in record time. I saw he was hard but he gestured outside.

“Get on that chaise, right now.”

“Somebody might see us.”

“Unlikely, from this vantage point, but the idea thrills me. I want people to watch me taking you.”

My breath stuck in my throat. A white guy and a black guy, naked, wearing big, hard cocks were probably not something you saw every day on the lanai of the Royal Suite. He knelt beside me on the warm apricot-colored tile. I moved my hand to his thigh as I lay down on the chaise as instructed.

He nudged my hand away, his mouth moving straight down to my famished cock. How could I still want him so badly when I’d been woken at four a.m. by his insistent cock poking at my ass? In the five months we’d been together, Francois showed me over and over again how much he wanted me. I felt my body moving as he toyed with my balls and ass.

“Open your legs,” he said, coming off my cock.

He was still beside me when I did as I was told, the only sounds in the world his insistent licking and sucking and the roar of the ocean. I heard voices far below us. Francois nudged my knees up, pulling my ass closer to his face. Nobody had ever eaten my ass the way he did. I felt his hot braids falling on my skin, felt the beads on the end rippling against my chest and belly.

I wanted him to fuck me. I had no idea if the chaise could hold us both but he moved to the foot of it now, bringing my ass down to him. He knelt, his cock hard and jutting up toward his belly, his mouth moving back to my hole. One hand encircled my shaft and he stroked upward. His other hand stroked at my ass cheeks. He slowly worked his thumb into my ass and I almost came when his eyes connected with mine.

He grunted. “Tough customer.” His tongue came out of his mouth as his thumb fucked me in a nice, demanding rhythm. He moved to my side again, his tongue bearing down on my left nipple. He licked it, slapped it gently a couple of times and I grabbed his hand at my ass. Francois knew what he was doing to me. He mouth opened and he sucked my nipple into it. I came with a cry, Francois suckling me until I stopped gushing all over him.

Francois took me mercy on me finally and let go of the nipple. My legs shook and I didn’t think I could keep them raised anymore. I was spent.

His face dipped down and he licked my juices from my belly and chest.

With a sigh, he removed his thumb from my ass.

He moved me back up the chaise, stood before me and I begged him to fuck me.

Francois got between my now hot thighs.

“Put me where you want me.”

I smelled the pungent wild fruit that grew in proliferation here. Lowering my window, I was intoxicated. Waiawi ‘ula ‘ula.

Parking on a slope, I trotted down an overgrown path thick with moss and vines. I followed my nose to ripe bunches of the rare, small yellow guava. I reached out a hand to pluck one off a tree and was stunned to see a guy standing between thickets of bamboo and ginger, peeing into the distance.

Oh, he was good looking. At first I thought I was seeing the ghost of some ancient Hawaiian he was so magnificent. It’s not that I am a fanciful man, but this guy looked pure blood, with skin so dark, his features so defiant, like an ancient, proud warrior, he took my breath away. Our eyes met. He was giving me the once over and I relaxed. He was flesh and blood. Ancient Hawaiians didn’t wear tank tops and board shorts. He walked right over to me. I towered over him by at least six inches and was surprised when his hand went straight to my crotch.

My cock leapt in my jeans and his palm moved slowly across the hardness he was creating. Above us, a pair of circling I’o’, island hawks cawed, extending their massive wingspan. They were on their way to getting a meal…and I was on my way to getting something even better.

The man touching me was clearly aroused. His cock jutted upward, but his focus was on me. “For me?” he whispered. I couldn’t speak. I’d avoided sex with anyone in the joint except for one guy in my last year there. I’d stayed out of trouble. My height and demeanor offered me protection. Now I was in mute need and that steady strumming across my groin had me almost ready to burst.

What the hell am I doing? I never picked up guys in the woods. He fell to his knees, unbuttoning the fly and I watched the rapt way he took out my huge tool. He moaned as he rubbed the tip with his palm, liking the juice he enticed from me. He put his hand to his mouth and gave it a long lick. I almost came on the spot, except the hungry stranger leaned back to me, putting his lips to my cock. The pleasure was immediate and intense. I came all over his face and he laughed. I was so embarrassed, but he just kept rubbing my cock all over his face and began licking it, hesitantly at first and then, when he knew I could take it, began sucking me in earnest.

He had a way of keeping his tongue moving over the head into my slit that left me feeling dizzy and anxious. I was worried somebody would catch us, but I didn’t want him to stop.

"So tell me how you got the guitar," he said, filling his own glass with the last of the wine. There wasn't a bite of bread or a sliver of onion left on our plates.

"My dad bought it for me," I said. "Just before he died. "We went to a guitar convention…one of the really early NAM shows in San Diego. I was ten years old."

"What year was that?"

"1990." I fiddled with a nut that had fallen from the walnut tree.

"Go on."

"He was dying. He had cancer. He wanted to get me something I would never forget. I wanted to be a guitarist. It was my passion. He never tried to talk me out of it. My dad was thirty-six and I was losing him. I still miss him every day, Micah. That guitar…it was like I still had him with me." I swatted at a fat tear streaking down my cheek.

"I still remember the guy who sold it to us. Oh…man, I haven't even told my mom yet. She'll be devastated."

He didn't say anything for a moment. I remembered the vivid blue of my Dean From Hell. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen in my whole life. The seller recited the attributes like a catalogue. It had been created for guitarist Dimebag Darrell. The seller pointed out the V-shaped neck, designed for faster playing, the Bill Lawrence L-500XL pickup in the bridge, two traction volume knobs, custom burn marks on the tips of the headstock, a master tone knob, and the gorgeous rosewood fretboard.

I just loved the blue color, the groovy shape, almost like a psychedelic rocket ship. It had two owners, a father, son…and then, me. A gift from a dying father to his son.

"Why were they selling?" Micah asked.

The question depressed me. It meant he was interested in its provenance. In keeping it.

His hand reached over the table and stroked mine. He toyed with my fingers in a provocative way, touching the pads of my fingertips with his. Our fingers entwined.

"The seller didn't really want it," I said, feeling a surge of heat that reached my groin. I was sadly in serious erotic distress.

"The mania for 1970s stuff wasn't so huge then," I said. "I think the guy was embarrassed by the guitar. He was more into acoustic stuff. My dad got it for a deal."

Micah's long fingers stroked from my wrist to my fingers. It felt so nice.

"Coffee?" Amelia asked.

"Yes, please," I said.

"Not me," Micah said. "I'm enjoying the buzz."

He talked me into their Artisan cheese plate and then assembled the almost erotic array of cheeses for me, handing them to me in bites. There was a rich, creamy brie on thick, sweet honeycomb. He handed me a perfect, plump, sugar-dusted blackberry atop a slice of aged white cheddar. A bite of stilton swiped with quince jam. He was a charmer, that's for sure.

Charmers charm snakes. A voice inside me warned.

"I'm willing to give you the Vendetta," he said, "for a price."

I sure wanted to know the price, but was beset by the urge to pee. I excused myself. In the tiny men's room, which contained no doors, only billowing, filmy curtains, I peed like a racehorse. I heard footsteps. In the small mirror to my right, I caught a glimpse of the new arrival. Micah. We exchanged smiles in the mirror and then he was all over me. His hand moved to my cock and I jumped. I stopped peeing. His fingers ran over the length of my shaft, his mouth moving to my throat.

"You can have your guitar back," he said. "On one condition."

His tongue slid across my neck.

"What condition?" My voice came out squeaky. Great, Garrick. Really seductive.

"I want to spend the weekend in bed with you."

I smelled lemon furniture polish and…some sort of tropical smell…I glanced around. He'd slathered on underarm deodorant before he walked out for his morning coffee. Moving behind me to close the door, I caught his appraising glance and knew several things about him. He was not organically gay. He, too, was horny, and had figured out it was easier to get laid by a gay guy. Ah geez, why did I always attract the straight guys?

He caught my gaze and looked away quickly. I knew so much in that small moment. When I saw the unbearable neatness of his small room with no view of the ocean I felt his despair, and knew I should leave. I'd just been hit by Kaolin, the human Mack truck. I still had tire marks running down my heart. What the hell was I doing here?

There was a perfectly made bed tucked in the corner. A single bed for a single man. There was a TV on a dining chair, small kitchenette, a dining table with the remaining chair and a big wing chair off to the side.

We stared at each other for a moment. I had to make the first move. I stepped toward him and I felt his hesitation until my mouth went to his. Though he was resistant at first to the kiss, he accepted my tongue. He let me kiss him and soon he was responding with eagerness. We were both surprised. I knew how hot this was, how good this felt and how good we both tasted.

He held my face in his hands. They were strong hands, fingertips rough, and I ached to feel them on my cock and balls. I took my mouth away from his and his tongue was still protruding when I moved away from his face. He was glassy eyed as I lifted the T-shirt to find what I knew would be there. Perfectly chiseled abs, a sprinkling of hair on the upper torso. My hands moved over him as he took the T-shirt himself and whipped it over his head. His nipples stared at me invitingly and I gave them passing attention with my tongue. I was too eager for the main course.

"Take your boots off," I instructed and he tried kicking them off as I unbuttoned the top of his jeans. I saw the Calvin Klein waistband of his underpants and then I lost total control. I slid down the zipper and cupped his perfect, tight ass in my hands as I held him to me. I found his mouth waiting for me. I wanted to spoil him, make him want more. I wanted him to crave men, to crave me, and I shucked down his jeans and underpants, savoring that raging erection just before I released that surprisingly thick, long cock. He was uncut.

I fell in love on the spot. Kneeling before him, I took his cock straight into my mouth and sucked as I frantically undid the ten million laces on those boots. He sighed with abandon as he kicked off the boots and shucked off his pants. His mouth fell into a happy O, and I glanced up to see that he was watching me enjoy my unexpected morning feast. I sucked him the way Kaolin loved me to suck him. I swallowed him, pulled back and all the way off him, plunging back down again. His cock bounced, eager to be back in my mouth each time I came off him. He was making little sounds…he did not want to beg me for it. He was too proud for that. He just made little primal noises, an instinct in all men for that safe, sexual burial in a hot, warm mouth.

Sucking his cock was as much a pleasure for me as it was for him. I took my mouth off him and told him to get on the table.

"What?" the animal wariness was back now.

"Get up there," I barked and he obeyed me. He got up on the table, his cock still hard and I grabbed his feet, still encased in his socks. "Lie back."

Jen clicked on the swinging web site. Her heartbeat quickened. They had mail. She brought up the mailbox and saw Elizabeth and Ned had finally responded. She inhaled deeply before pushing the button. Would they want to get together, or had they had a change of mind?

Hi Jen and Brett,

So good to get your positive response! Great pics!

Jen relaxed and settled back to read what appeared to be a long email.

We're so pleased you're willing to give us a try. We know our situation is awkward for most folks, but Ned really wants me not to miss out on what he can no longer provide. And I must confess, I do love having sex with a man and a woman. This arrangement may seem too strange to many, but it works for us. And ultimately, that's what counts. We all have choices to make."

Jen nodded at the screen. Would she and Brett have the kind of courage Elizabeth and Ned seemed to possess? Would their love survive such a personal calamity? She hoped never to find out, but her appreciation for Elizabeth and Ned deepened the more she learned of them. Alice and Carl thought the couple special—so they probably were. She scrolled further down the page.

Vibrators are nice, but for me they don't replicate the real thing. I thank God daily that Ned is so supportive. Of course, I wouldn't think of hooking up with anyone without him being present. It may seem strange to you, but he really is involved. I wonder if he wasn't a voyeur all his life. He loves to watch and cheer us on. And occasionally he'll get so excited he will help us with a finger or a toy. I wish you would've had a chance to know him before…he really could please a woman. He still does. Only now, he has to depend on surrogates. Perhaps I've said more than I should, but we both want you to be as at ease as possible. We know you'll be comfortable with us once you meet us. We are so grateful to Carl and Alice who help screen possible playmates for us. That's why we have no problem inviting you to our home. Ned gets quite anxious in hotel rooms. We can hardly wait until next month. I am so looking forward to playing with each of you. I've been moist pretty much ever since I saw your pics. I love slow sensuous play with a woman. With a man, I like a little more athleticism. What do you two like? I'm sure we'll come up with things to satisfy all of us. Ned often enjoys playing choreographer. Hope that won't be a problem. If it is, he'll stop. Not to worry. I seem to be perseverating so I'll sign off for now. Maybe I'm the anxious one. Lol Hugs, Elizabeth

He shook his head. His eyes twinkled when he stood. He bent down and kissed her soundly.

Jennifer yielded. She’d never grow tired of the way his lips curved over hers.

Breaking their kiss, Brett said, “Don't want them to think we're just sitting here on pins and needles waiting to hear from them.” He kissed the top of her head. “I thought Pam had a super idea. Why don't we go to bed and imagine what it will be like snuggling with them?”

“That's a wonderful plan,” Jennifer muttered, kissing his chin while dragging his hand to her crotch.

“Jesus, your jeans are wet.”

“That's right,” she chuckled. “My panties are soaked. Hurry, let's go play.”

“We haven't even met Insatiable69—yet just thinking about them makes us so hot we can hardly keep our hands off each other.”

“Welcome to swinging,” Jennifer chortled, leading Brett by the hand, hurrying toward their bedroom. “Isn't this fun?”

* * * *

Brett grinned at his wife propped up on the bed beside him. She was teasing her left breast with the tip of a rabbit vibrator while he grazed her tummy with a finger massager. Already Jennifer seemed drifting in and out of some sort of erotic haze, probably anticipating the coming waves. He'd never tire of watching her nurse her orgasms to full bloom.

“A little lower,” she whispered. “Not my clit. Just beside it. Right there. Oh my. I'm humming all over. Don't move.”

He watched her tug on a nipple and cradle the rabbit between her breasts. Her mews made his cock throb. With his free hand, he encircled his shaft and skimmed it lightly as Jennifer began to ascend that wall he'd witnessed her climb so many times before.

Her lips thinned. She nodded. She broke into a broad smile. “Yes.” Lurching forward, she grabbed her knees and held on. 

"Most every time I try to fall asleep I think of you with another woman." Donna slanted a finger across Jen's lips. "Please, I have to tell you. I admit I'm so jealous. I've dreamed about us together before. I hadn't had that dream for years until recently. Then I'd wake up feeling so guilty I didn't know if I could face you. Now I wake up soaking wet, certain we've been making love for hours and that you left before I could awaken fully."

"But…"

Donna's finger slipped into Jen's open mouth.

Was it reflex, instinct or lust? With her eyelids closed, Jen didn't spend much time trying to explain why she was suddenly sucking Donna's finger deeper into her mouth.

"That feels so good," Donna cooed.

Jen heard Donna scooting closer. She kept her eyes closed hoping not to frighten or encourage her friend. She felt Donna's warm breath on her cheek. And then her best friend's lips brushed against the corner of Jen's mouth.

Jack leaned over to whisper in Ruth’s ear. His warm breath caused her heart to skip a beat. "Your pleasure is our mission."

Ruth clasped his hand, which had begun crawling up her thigh.

"A little now," he teased, mocking her, "might tide you over until later."

She looked sharply at him. Later? His eyes were laughing.

A low moan from her right caused her to glance toward Desiree. Her lap was covered with a nondescript lap robe, but the telltale signs of the blanket moving made it clear that Brad, who leaned into Desiree, was bringing her off—apparently expertly. After Desire covered her mouth and her eyes rounded in delight, Ruth turned back to Jack.

"Why do you suppose they provide lap robes?" he asked. "It's not all that cold in here. You're sitting on one, if you think you might be a little chilly."

Ruth chewed on her bottom lip and watched Barb who was perched on the stage, palming her pussy. Ruth pulled the lap robe out from under her. Jack helped her spread it across her lap.

Without saying another word, Jack settled back in his chair, remaining focused on Barb's stage antics. The two of them might as well be sitting at the movies eating popcorn, except for the fact that his right hand was palming her pussy.

"You really did come for her."

"I never fake coming," Ruth huffed between clenched teeth as he slipped a finger between her folds, seeking entry. She shifted slightly and his long finger easily bore into her.

They sat for a moment as if gathering their thoughts. Ruth blinked, hoping there were no undercover cops about. They might not be overtly obvious, but anybody watching closely knew what was happening beneath the lap robe.

Jack did all the work. She didn't have to move at all. He worked his finger probing from side to side and then rhythmically in and out of her. Soon the butt of his palm grazed her clit and she gave up watching Barb or thinking about who might stop them. And then she was again sliding over the top. She whimpered softly as he maintained a steady, languid pace, turning her to soft butter. They both seemed satisfied with her coming slow and easy. Her eyes blinked wide open and then quickly shut. Perhaps they were saving something for later.

After giving her sufficient time to recover, Jack eased out of her and sniffed his finger. "Nothing better than the scent of a woman," he said grinning at her. She watched him suck his finger into his mouth. "Other than the taste of a woman."

He glanced back toward the stage. "Show’s just about over. Barb will go backstage and dress. It won't take long for her to join you two."

Jack stood and Brad rose from his seat. "We'll see you ladies a little later. We've got several things to do to close up here."

Ruth watched the men strut away from them.

"I'll bet," Desiree whispered, "they're the bouncers at this place—at least when Barbie is working."

Ruth nodded her agreement. "Looks like. No wonder they weren't too worried about being noticed."

"They seemed like nice enough guys," Desiree said dreamily. "I did feel a little sorry for leaving Sampson out. Do you suppose Barbie takes on the three of them at once?"

"Why not? Nothing Barbie does would surprise me anymore."

"Do you think we're safe with her?"

"Of course we are. She's not going to harm us. We might be in for a long weekend," Ruth flashed an eyebrow, "but I don't think we have to be afraid of her." She glanced in the direction of the three men. "Or anyone else."

Brett saw the women's gazes meet in the mirror.

"I need to change my blouse before we go out," Pam announced. Without waiting for a response, Pam undid the top button. She paused, perhaps waiting for a protest from Jen. Seeing and hearing none, Pam proceeded to undo each button and shrug out of the blouse. Bare to the waist, she remained behind Jen, making no move to retrieve a replacement blouse.

Brett could see Jen nervously wet her lips. Her eyes had widened as she took in Pam's reflection.

"You like?" Pam murmured, cupping a breast.

Brett's breathing stopped as he watched Jen turn her head and flick her tongue out at the proffered breast.

"Nice, very nice." Pam smiled toward her husband sitting next to Brett. "Don't worry. We won't tarry. Sometimes things simply happen."

"Right," Rick groused. "Just don't get too carried away."

Pam bent over and nibbled on Jen's ear. "Do you truly need that bra? It really is a distraction."

Jen shook her head and stood. She reached for a button on her blouse.

"Let me," Pam said.

Brett watched Pam quickly and efficiently undo Jen's blouse. The front-clasped bra was next and then his wife's boobs sprang forth. They were at least a size larger than Pam's and they sagged a bit more, but they were gorgeous and he didn't feel a twinge of jealously when Pam dipped her head to suckle one.

Jen rose on her toes and held Pam tight. She rocked back and forth. Her jaw fell slack. One of Pam's hands disappeared under Jen's skirt.

Brett glanced quickly at Rick who had somehow freed his cock and was lightly skimming it as the dance between the women continued. Quickly, Brett did the same.

"Good God," Jen whimpered. "I'm going to come." She looked wildly about until her gaze settled on him.

He wasn't positive she could see anything through her orgasmic haze. It didn't matter. She knew he was there watching. "Go for it, Jen."

"Ride the wave, girl," Rick called out. "She's almost there, Pam."

 "Oh hell," Jen wailed. She thrust against Pam and then buckled.

A gust of wind rattled the windows and Martha slid farther under the covers. If it could get this nippy in early September, how would she manage January?

She’d check the furnace filters in the morning. And she’d better make certain the wood yard held plenty of firewood to last the winter. She’d have to get advice about that. She had no idea how much would be enough.

Natalie might know. Daniel Ford would certainly know. She turned over again and fluffed her pillow back up. The nerve of him, to be watching her when she hadn’t even been aware of his presence!

She didn’t doubt he could wield an axe handily. She shivered. Maybe she should’ve done more research before buying the place. Perhaps she should look into getting one of those cute gas fire places.

She needed to stay warm in the winter, and she wasn’t about to flee back to civilization any time soon. It had taken all her gumption and most of her inheritance to buy Purgatory Point; she wasn’t about to give up because of a chill in the air.

That decided, she closed her eyes and welcomed the drifting sensations of dozing.

He’d have strong hands. She’d have soft hands. Dan’s fingers. Natalie’s fingers. As if from a distance, Martha recognized her own soft moans. Her loins ached. It was an old ache, yet a familiar ache.

Her nipples pebbled and strained against the flannel gown. Fingers brushed against her inner thigh. She squeezed her legs tightly together, trapping them.

Whose fingers? Hers? His? Natalie’s? She was dreaming. She knew she was. She had to be dreaming. She let herself sink farther into the darkness.

“That a girl,” came a soothing whisper penetrating her fuzzy brain. “You’re a passionate woman. Let it out. Cherish your passion. Let me help. Let me touch you.”

“Natalie?” Martha whispered, unable to awaken.

A soft chuckle answered. “Not this time. Maybe later if you allow yourself. Now let me help you.”

The pressure of fingertips on her thigh matched the pressure building behind her loins. Her brow furrowed as another set of fingers caressed her taut nipples still protected by flannel. “Oh,” she moaned. She tensed and then relaxed. The fingers on her thigh slid upward to where she burned the hottest.

Martha bit down on her lower lip as a finger seeking more heat found it. She gasped and lurched up and down, helping to seat the intruder in her sex. “This can’t be happening,” she moaned, widening her thighs.

“But it is. You’re not pretending it isn’t, are you?”

Martha hesitated. The finger stopped its exploring. She shook her head in response to the question and to her overwhelming desire. She wasn’t even certain what she wanted, but she wanted with her entire body.

A mouth settled over the flannel that covered a breast. “Good God,” Martha whimpered. She heard laughter and then the magic emanating from her vagina overtook her. The finger deep inside moved incessantly. Martha shook. She didn’t know which would explode first, her head or her loins.

“God help me!” she screamed as her need, fulfilled, overflowed.

Exhausted, Martha shook herself awake. Her dream had been as vivid as a nightmare, but she wouldn’t deceive herself labeling it as such. It had been too incredible for that. She hugged herself trying to quiet her still trembling flesh.

She’d orgasmed before, but… She threw an arm across her forehead. This one had been so explosive. So simple, and yet overwhelmingly complex. She shook her head. Since when had she become an analyst of orgasms?

Her nipples still tingled. Tentatively, she brushed a hand against a breast. Her eyes flew wide open and she started to a sitting position. The flannel covering her breast was sodden. She slid a hand between her legs. Wet. “Good grief,” she murmured to the night, “what is happening to me?”

Todd thrust deep, stilled, and waited. Eric knew from experience that Natalie was squeezing down on him hard and then she erupted. She called out to the heavens. Her hot breath scalded his balls. Todd grinned triumphantly at the mirror and Susan blew her husband’s reflection a kiss.

The three of them waited for Natalie. When she stirred, Eric began once again easing in and out of Susan, who had shown more patience than he’d expected.

“Bombastic, Natalie,” Susan said. “That must’ve been worth the wait. Looked like you’re enjoying my husband’s cock. And like a good boy, he didn’t come. Todd’s not short on patience.”

“He’s super,” came the hushed response along with a half-smothered giggle. Eric felt her lips brush his balls. “You seem to be faring quite well with your brother-in-law.”

“Certainly am,” Susan grunted as he gave her an extra strong stroke. “Both of our men are quite skilled at satisfying a woman.”

“The women aren’t bad either, right, bro?”

Eric nodded at his brother’s reflection and slowed his pace to match that of Todd, who was beginning again to inch out of Natalie and slowly glide back in. He gasped when Susan clamped her vagina tighter around him. Much more of that and he was done. “Don’t know about anyone else, but I’m about ready to pop.”

“Wait!” Susan declared, “I want you to come in my ass.”

“Excellent idea,” Eric said, holding himself in check and leaning over to nip at Susan’s shoulder blade.

“How about you?” Todd asked Natalie.

 “No,” she said quickly, “I’ll pass on that. I want you to finish where you are.”

“Good enough,” Todd replied. “I’m quite content where I am. We’ll wait for Eric and Susan.”

Eric smiled to himself. So was she saving her ass for him? Certainly someone as experienced as Natalie must enjoy anal play, but he hadn’t really explored that with her yet. There was so much more for them to try. He pulled out of Susan and clutched a butt cheek in each hand. Her anus puckered—just in case he might lose his way.

“You, Natalie,” Susan chortled, “may want to help him find the right spot.”

Eric closed his eyes as Natalie’s fingers curled around his straining cock. Susan had had a super idea for including Natalie. He couldn’t determine whose breathing had turned more ragged, his or Natalie’s, as she guided the tip of his cock until it found the exposed dark target. He eased in fractionally and Susan expanded to accept him.

“Wow,” Natalie gasped. “Amazing. His head disappeared.”

“Wait,” Susan whimpered. “I’m opening, but give me a moment. He’s going to fill my ass, Natalie. And I’m enjoying this immensely. I hope you are.”

“Stunning,” Natalie responded, “and your pussy is so wide open.”

“Then you might want to push a couple fingers in so she doesn’t feel abandoned.” Susan chuckled. “You may be surprised by what you find. Okay, big guy. I’m ready for you. Slowly. Bring him home.”

He nodded at the mirror as Susan’s mouth curved into a smile. They both knew she could’ve taken all of him before now, but she had Natalie where she wanted her. He eased on in. His groans matched those of Natalie’s as his cock nestled into Susan’s ass and pressed against Natalie’s two fingers buried in Susan’s vagina.

“Now,” he grunted to his brother.

They moved in unison with him fucking his brother’s wife’s ass and his brother fucking his lover’s pussy. The wails of both women soon filled the small alcove.

Eric tried to hold back, but was failing miserably. He didn’t know if it was Susan’s tight channel or Natalie’s fingers drawing him in deeper that forced him across a hidden precipice, but his thighs burned and his toes curled as he hurtled faster in and out the women’s clutches.

“Oh hell!” he shouted. “I’m over the top.”

Laughing, Todd exclaimed, “Me, too!”

"Take me deeper, babe!"

On her hands and knees between her boyfriend’s legs, Joy Danser worked her jaw muscles until her mouth and throat surrounded his entire cock.

"Better," Ted Meeks groaned. He lay spread eagled beneath her on their bed. "Smooth and steady. Let’s see how long you can manage."

Joy wanted to snicker. Even after two years of living together, his need to make sex a challenge annoyed her. She’d outlast Ted. She always did. Relaxing her muscles, she bobbed slowly up and down his shaft. It would only take a sudden shift in pace or a deft twist of the hand around the base of his cock and he’d be spurting down her throat in a flash. Or if she squeezed his balls just right. Or, a surefire way of making him come would be slipping her middle finger in his ass. She could win this challenge whenever she chose to.

She suctioned slowly up his shaft until she only held its fleshy crown in her mouth. Ted’s hands curled around her shoulders as if he feared she might leave him. Chuckling around his cock she drifted back down its length until her lips again smacked against his loins.

Inching her way back up, she felt his hand slip between her legs and begin to palm her pussy. She blinked her eyes open wildly. All ten of Ted’s fingernails dug into her shoulders. What the hell? Who the hell? She started to rear up.

A large hand pressed against her back. "Easy, Danser. It’s just me, Santa. You wanted to believe," a deep male voice chortled. "So, here I am."

The words reverberated in her head. They hadn’t been spoken aloud. She was sure of that. Santa! Damn, her job had finally gotten to her. She was going crazy. She swore she felt soft whiskers caressing her lower back and then her rump. She supervised the eight temporary Santas at the mall as part of her assistant manager position. Yes, she’d been envious of how easily the boys and girls believed and marveled when the Santas went out of their way to listen to them and please them. She’d only hired the best. Each had to have an authentic beard. It could be dyed white, but it had to be real.

"My beard is authentic. You must feel that. Mustache, too."

"Oh my. You can read my thoughts." His lips and mustache traced the contour of her rump. She didn’t balk when he grazed the insides of her thighs. She shifted her knees further apart.

"That’s right. Open for me. You may want to remember Ted now and then, or even he may begin to wonder what’s happening to you."

Ted! Joy hurriedly moved up and down her boyfriend’s shaft before slowing her pace, trying to collect her wits while remaining keenly aware of the hands and lips on her butt.

"Good," came the voice in her head. "Wouldn’t want to explain to him what you’re really doing--playing with Santa." A tongue slid along the crevice of her butt cheeks. "Have you ever played with two cocks before?"