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"Nobody ever did that to me," he panted.
His body arched off the bed as he came, screaming loud
enough that the neighbors pounded on the walls.
He collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving, face and
torso bright red. Norman and I snuggled him close, kissing and
caressing him until he recovered.
He finally looked up at Norman then, and whispered,
"Thank you."
Norman laughed and kissed him. John was so shocked he
didn't respond at first, but then I saw his jaws move and his eyes
close, and he responded with all the passion in him.
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He looked at John for a long time, as John lay there blushing,
eyes closed. Then I dropped my head and began sucking one of John's
nipples. He gasped and shivered, but before he could do anything
else, Norman had dropped down to cover the other.
John was moaning, "No, no, no." But at the same time, his
hands were on the backs of our heads, holding us close to him. I
shook with silent laughter, my own passions assuaged and so able to
tease him without driving myself crazy.
After a long time, Norman started sliding down his body.
John moaned and his hand tightened on my head. He shuddered
convulsively when Norman took all of him in his mouth.
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When I hung up, John looked up at me with a mixture of fear,
anticipation, and several other emotions. I just laughed and told him
to relax, that Norman would be very gentle with him.
Norman was there in less than ten minutes, and when he
realized why I'd called him, a wide smile covered his face and he
hugged me. Then he stripped and joined us in the bed.
Norman was tall, with a heavy build. He had ash blond hair
and blue eyes, and "boy next door" looks. I'd never seen his cock
before, but was pleasantly surprised at its length and thickness.
"Pity you aren't bi," I teased, and he winked at me, laughing.
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Back in the sixties, I was a divorcee working and going
to college, sowing my wild oats in a big way. I’d been branded with a
big scarlet A for being the first woman in my home town to get a
divorce, and being of high intelligence, I figured if you’re already
fallen, you might as well enjoy the bottom and forget about the
morality at the top.
One of my lovers was a man who traveled through my town twice
a month. He always called me, and we’d have dinner, then go back to
his hotel room for some hot and heavy sex. John was good in bed, and
we had the kind of relationship where I didn’t ask about his other
lovers, and he didn’t ask about mine. We just accepted what we had
and enjoyed it for what it was.
He was short, about 5′5, but with a trim build. He had
laughing brown eyes, dark curly hair, nice features with a very
sexy mouth (which he knew how to use, in every way) and a nice
thick cock, not too long.
One night during dinner, I happened to mention that I’d
been dating a gay man for over a year. Norman was in the closet,
and I was his cover for family and those acquaintances who didn’t
know he was gay. John said he’d never tried sex with a man, but had
always wondered what it would be like. I laughingly offered to call
Norman for him. He quickly said no, and we dropped the subject.
After our usual torrid sex, we were lying on the bed idly chatting,
and he brought up the subject again. Without giving him a chance to
back out, I picked up the phone and called Norman. I told him where
I was, and asked him to come over immediately.
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I massaged his balls while my fingers probed his ass, the crack
made slick by a mixture of sweat, saliva and jism. I stroked and sucked
Andy’s massive cock until he couldn’t stand it any more. I shut my eyes
tight and pictured him coming, jets of thick, creamy liquid leaping from
his cock and hitting my face, running in sticky rivers down my cheeks and
around my mouth. I bucked and tensed as my own real-life orgasm matched
his, squirt after endless squirt, pumping with such force that my own cum
was landing around my neck and bouncing off my chin.
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Once again, I was denied. The din of rumbling trash cans outside made me
think it was morning. Actually, a foraging dog had overturned the
neighbor's cans. It was smack in the middle of the night. I lay in bed--at
least it was relatively dry this time--coated with sweat and beset with a
pounding erection. I kicked off the blankets and wrapped my fingers around
my cock. I closed my eyes and tried to recall the dream. I saw the
pictures--Andy's perfect body, that beautiful, giant cock, the reflections
in the shimmering fluid that gathered at its tip--but unlike the dream, I
couldn't taste or feel. No matter, the images were enough. I had never
sucked a cock, but I sunk everything I had into imagining that Andy was
there with me, and that I was going down on him with abandon. I pictured
the wide shot, seeing us both from the side, Andy pumping his cock into my
mouth, arching his back high off the bed when I took him deep into my
throat.
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I had another intense dream that night. Andy and I were on a bed, naked.
We were stroking each other’s stiff cocks and rubbing our hands over each
other’s chests. I bent over and took one of his tender, hairless nipples in
my mouth, squeezing his shaft while I traced rings around his tit with my
tongue. I sucked hard and bit down a little. Andy thrust his well-muscled
hips up and gasped, fucking my fist as I munched on his hardened nipple. I
reached under him as he arched, grabbing a handful of his exquisite ass,
kneading and biting and stroking. He played with my hair, then gently urged
my head lower. I left a trail of wet kisses down his chest, across his
belly, around to his sensitive laterals, inside again to his hip. I felt
his giant cock straining against my fingers, anticipating the fateful slide
into my slick, waiting mouth. I righted myself, kneeling over him, gripping
his immense shaft as I lowered my face toward the glistening, throbbing,
purple head. I parted my lips and tasted the rich, salty texture of Andy’s
jism on the tip of my tongue. I pursed my lips to encircle the very tip of
his cockhead, darting my tongue against the underside of his shaft as he
gently pushed my head lower onto him. I opened wide to accept him.
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I went straight from work to the gym, hoping to work off some of my
frustrations. I got changed and made a beeline for my bike. I must have
been pedaling at 50 miles per hour because Brian came over and tapped me on
the arm, hard. “Take it easy,” he mouthed, knowing that I had the
headphones turned up loud. I nodded a “yeah, sure” in his direction and
picked up the pace again.
I wore myself out, and by the time I got to my locker, I was about ready
to fall over. I planted a foot on the bench to get my leg dry, hoping I had
enough energy to make the drive home. I toweled quickly, and then heard
sopping footsteps behind me. They seemed to walk past, but then I heard it:
“Excuse me–my locker’s just down this way.” The hand gripped my waist, and
once again, this stranger’s body slid behind me. I must have been a little
further out in the aisle this time, because he had to push into me pretty
hard to get past. When he got halfway through, I lost my balance and
started to tip over. Another powerful hand took hold of my waist on the
other side, steadying me, and only after I regained my balance did I notice
that I had a cock pressed hard into the crack of my ass. He held me there
for a few seconds to make sure I was balanced, and I could have sworn I
felt him press his groin into me. His hands squeezed my waist tight, and
his cock twitched inside my split. But once again, by the time I knew what
was happening, he was already by me, that brief period of slow motion gone.
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I saw white linen, lit by the sun from the window. I brought up my hand
to prop myself up, and it was as messy as it had been in my dream. The
bedding was soaked. I chuckled ashamedly to myself–I felt like a damned
kid. Imagine. Wet dreams at my age. I dropped the linens in the washer
while I showered.
While I was eating my breakfast, a flash of that fast-fading dream
stabbed my mind. I was about to do something. I was…we were in this
forest, and we had just taken a piss, and we…
I was about to suck that boy’s cock! My eyes got wide with that
realization. But it was more than that, because at some level, I obviously
found the concept so exciting that the mere thought of it was enough to
make me shoot into my own sheets. Those last few scenes, the big, hard cock
growing ever closer, just about to taste it now, flickered in my mind like
a silent movie. All through work that day, scenes from that dream flashed
and made me jump up to distract myself. Get a soda, or walk to the copier,
for Pete’s sake do something, but you can’t spend the whole day with a
hard-on.
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He
reached underneath to play with his balls, and when he squeezed his ass
tight, his cock surged and his cockhead got shiny. I knelt down on the
ground in front of Andy, taking tiny steps on my knees. The tip of his cock
appeared and disappeared inside his fist as he worked himself, and his huge
balls hung low between his legs. I wanted his dick in my mouth more than I
ever wanted anything, and the more I walked on my knees, the closer his
dick got, until it was right in front of my face. I could see hole weeping
clear fluid, which he picked up with his fingers and swirled around the
tip. I steadied myself with my hand on his thigh, and opened my mouth. I
closed my eyes so nothing could interfere with the sensation of the tip of
his huge cock cresting over my lips. Andy breathed hard as he guided
himself into my waiting mouth. My own cock suddenly burst in my hand,
gushing hot, sticky juice all over. I opened my eyes to watch Andy’s cock
slide over my tongue.
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That night, I had that dream about Andy. Only this time we were hiking in
the woods. He said he had to pee, so we stopped and watered a shared tree.
Andy turned to me and asked, “I wonder what it feels like if somebody
kisses it.” Kisses what, I asked, and Andy nodded toward his cock. With
each dream, Andy’s cock got bigger, and in this one, his was as large
flaccid as mine was fully erect. “I don’t know,” I offered in response,
“but I bet it feels good.” Andy looked down for a moment, then at me. “Can
I try it?”
I didn’t know if that meant I was supposed to kiss his or he was supposed
to kiss mine. Either way, my heart started racing when Andy took a few
steps back from the damp leaves and pulled his pants to his knees. He began
tugging on his cock, and I watched silently as it grew in his hand.
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He
scooted inside even more, pressing tighter against me, and with a quick
move I felt his leg, then his inner thigh as he stepped up, then he moved
forward. I felt an unfamiliar shape, then I realized that this man’s penis
was nestled between the cheeks of my ass! It only lasted for the merest
instant, and he was, in fact, fully by me in only two or three seconds. I
was frozen there for a moment, looking at this man standing in front of his
locker but stunned that I could still feel a soft, moist cock pressed
against my butt. I found myself with an unconcealable erection, and
suddenly I knew how Art felt. The stranger was turned slightly away from
me, but he’d look over now and then to smile at me. My face was bright red,
and I hurriedly stepped into my briefs in an attempt to get my raging hard-
on under wraps.
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I was off in this dreamland, slowly toweling my thigh with one foot on
the bench, when my greatest adventure began. I had lost track of time, and
in my haze, all but a couple of patrons had deserted. I had the whole
locker room to myself, so I took my time. I was indulging my vanity when I
heard a couple of wet footsteps behind me. “Excuse me,” a low voice spoke,
and a warm, strong hand gripped my thigh. “My locker’s right through here,”
came the voice again, and before I could step aside, the man started past
me. His hand was clearly there to keep me from falling over, but it also
held me firmly in place as he inched by. His thigh touched my ass and I
tried to recoil, but the hand held firm and the body kept moving. There was
obviously no intent–the movements were those of a man squeezing into a
movie seat or on his way to the airplane lavatory. He was facing my
backside, and I felt his warm, hairy leg tickle my skin as it went past.
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I must admit that I was given to brief bouts of vanity, standing in front
of my locker door. I'd towel the shower water off my body slowly, feeling
new curves, highs and lows that weren't there only a few weeks before. I'd
plant my foot on the bench, and run the towel up my tight calves and
thighs, squeezing hard to feel the dense muscle underneath. I was no Mr.
America, but I was making good progress.
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Weeks went by. I stuck with my workout regimen and eventually forgot all
about Art. I studied bodies of all shapes in reflections in the chrome
fixtures, even shared a jacuzzi or two with other regulars. I had become a
fixture myself, and hanging out naked with these guys became second nature
to me. Besides, my body was showing changes of its own, and I liked what I
saw. Brian's direction was doing wonders. My belly was firm, my once
mountainous love handles were reduced to tiny hills, and I was feeling good
about myself for the first time in years.
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