It can happen after years of blissful marital relations or after a few months of satisfying “shacked-up” sex. It even can occur during a lusty, passion-fueled first-date fuck. It leaves men confused, impatient and angry. It leaves the women under them baffled, disoriented and exhausted.
The problem? Tardy ejaculation–the polar opposite of premature ejaculation.
Peter Pop-Offs with hair-trigger pricks may find it difficult to sympathize with men who endlessly pump and pump without ever making it over the hump. Extended screw sessions with no spurt in sight? The Johnny Fuckerfasters of the world only wish they had that kind of problem. But for every overeager load-blower who can barely get it in before it’s over, there’s another poor bastard out there who diligently drills away but can’t uncap his groin gusher. He’s nude, lewd and in the mood, but when it comes to spewing spooge, the dude is screwed!
“What the fuck?” he thinks, wondering why his love missile’s detonator refuses to spark. “Did I suddenly turn gay without realizing it? Have I run dry thanks to too many teenage yank sessions? Am I in some Twilight Zone episode where my stiffy is nothing more than a pathetic prop?”
The truth is that sometimes even a guy is “not in the mood,” regardless of his boner’s status. Just because you’re up doesn’t mean you’ll be up-and-coming. Getting a hard-on and getting a hard-on off are two different things. Sucking, squeezing and sundry other sensual stimulations can keep an otherwise disinterested dick deceptively rigid, but if its owner is distracted, tired or stressed, he won’t be icing any cunny cake with his club.
You don’t want your partner thinking you’re dysfunctional, unappreciative or weird, but it’s hard for a man to fake an orgasm. The alternative–sliding out and apologizing that further furrowing would be fruitless–is an even worse option. That means you’ll have to put yourself in a psychological happy place to get the job done. You’ll mentally scramble to come up with some forbidden fantasy, some masturbatory memory, some indecent image, anything sufficiently nut-nudging to coax your jism genie out of its blue-balled bottle.
On condition of anonymity, four friends of mine–oops, I mean four complete and total strangers I’ve never met in my life–offered to share their favorite methods of kick-starting a slow-in-coming climax. Think of these torrid tales as spare batteries to turn your engine over in an emergency. With these “Die-Hard-ons” in mind, you’ll never be left high and dry again!
A WOODY IN THE WOODS FOR A GOODY IN A HOOD
“I wouldn’t trade my girlfriend for anybody,” says a Seattle sales exec, “but every now and then I get that ‘sawing wood’ feeling when we fuck. I’m sliding back and forth like a dull blade on a log, just going through the motions. Maybe it’s a guy thing, but I never want to give up on a screw. Pride is part of the reason. I’m not the kind of man who starts things he can’t finish.
“The first time it happened, I started skipping around in my head like a busted CD-ROM drive, bouncing from track to track in search of something that would get me off. I tried thinking about old girlfriends, favorite stroke-book pictorials, you name it. Then I landed on the solution.
“My girlfriend has an eighteen-year-old niece named Paula who’s a total bookworm, the real quiet type. She wears clunky shoes, baggy pants, bulky sweatshirts and usually has her hair pulled back. She’s cute, but she doesn’t seem to give a damn about appealing to the opposite sex. That’s why I was surprised to find myself fantasizing about fucking her.
“In my fantasy, I was giving little Paula a lift home from summer camp. How sick is that, considering that we’re talking about a girl who’ll be starting college in the fall! She asks if she can change clothes in my car. Before I can answer, she slips her khaki pants off and tosses them in the back seat. Her legs are really slender and smooth, and the hem of her hooded sweatshirt hides her crotch at first. She turns toward me on the passenger seat.
“‘Want to see something pretty?’ she asks with a seductive smile on her face. When I look, she flips up the bottom of her sweatshirt. I catch a glimpse of the short, dark curls of her bush and the top of her pussy’s slit. She quickly hides her cunt again, grinning smugly.
“You know the way fantasies go. Suddenly I’ve pulled off the side of the road and we’re in a shady stand of trees. Paula, wearing nothing but her black plastic glasses, is kneeling on a bed of pine needles. I stand before her while she sucks my dick. It looks enormous between her lightly frosted lips.
“In the real world, I’m suddenly banging my girlfriend with a lot more enthusiasm. All I need is a little extra push. I get it when my imaginary Paula looks up at me with a sneer and says, ‘You think you can fit that big, stiff dick of yours up my asshole? Come on and try, you lousy son of a bitch.’
“She gets on all fours, her bare butt raised high in anticipation. Her asshole actually gapes open, she’s that eager to get cornholed. I give her a little thrill first by fucking her pussy instead of giving her what she wants right away. Her cunt is so tight I can’t imagine what that other, smaller hole will feel like.
“Paula impatiently looks over her shoulder and barks, ‘In my ass, goddamn it! I want it in my dirty ass, you fucker!’ Hearing that kind of talk from what I thought was a boring little good-girl makes my real-life balls throb. I slip out of her twat and push my cock deep inside her asshole, using her pussy juice for lube. Then I’m fucking her sweet ass so hard that I soon find myself filling my real-world girlfriend with come. Mission accomplished!
“So my suggestion for guys who need a little inspiration is to ignore the obvious slutty casting choices. Make up a scene featuring the most unlikely girl you can imagine doing the nastiest stuff that comes to mind.”
IF YOU’RE GONNA DAYDREAM, WHY BOTHER BEING REALISTIC?
“I know it’s weird, but I always think of a line from the first Batman movie when I can’t come,” says a Baltimore securities analyst. “Not the Michael Keaton movie, the really cornball 1966 version. In one scene, the Caped Crusader is running around trying to dispose of a bomb with a lit fuse. Wherever he tries to toss it, something stops him: a pair of nuns, a Salvation Army band, even a bunch of ducks. Totally exasperated, he ends up saying, ‘Some days, you just can’t get rid of a bomb!’
That’s exactly the way I feel sometimes. I just want to deliver the gooey goods, but I can’t make myself explode! The last time that happened, I was with a girl I’ve been seeing off-and-on for a while. I usually never have any trouble getting it up when we’re together, but the spurt-switch in my head refused to flip that night.
“When it’s one of those times that reality won’t work, I don’t bother thinking about the sort of women I might actually have a chance of having sex with. It takes the completely opposite kind of fantasy female to get me off.
“In my favorite dirty daydream, I hear a knock on my apartment door. It’s a big-titted, outrageously slutty blonde wearing a babydoll T-shirt, ripped denim short-shorts and a pair of streetwalker platform shoes. She looks like she’s very high, or very stupid, or probably both.
“She looks me up and down and asks, ‘Hey, you wanna be in a porn video? One of the guys didn’t show up. We’re shooting right next door.’ I stare down at her see-through T-shirt and see two huge, flapjack-style nipples. I don’t think about my girlfriend, my health or what’s left of my dignity. I follow the lush slut without a moment’s hesitation.
“There’s a guy standing there with a hand-held video camera. More important, there are three other beautiful bitches, each of them with even more makeup and trashier outfits than the blonde. The four girls strip down fast. I see a couple of tribal tattoos, some dangling nipple rings, one or two shaved-bare pussies and some dramatic string-bikini tan lines. Before I know it they’re on their knees and their hands are all over me, tearing off my clothes. They drag me to the bed and push me onto black satin sheets. Their luscious mouths all go for my dick and balls at the same time. They’re like koi fish, hungrily nibbling away at me.
“They take turns sitting on my cock, fucking me a little and moving up to my face so I can lap at their puffy, juicy snatches. There’s always one pussy around my prick and another on my mouth, one after the other. They make the circuit three times before they’re ready for the main event.
“All four girls kneel beside each other on the edge of the bed with their bare backs toward me. They lean forward, resting their heads on their folded arms. Their magnificent cracks are spread wide in invitation. I have my choice of eight irresistible openings: four crinkled little assholes and four sloppy, fuck-stretched pussies. I stand beside the bed, weighing my options and moving from woman to woman, fingering the ones I’m not fucking, fucking the ones I’m not fingering, sampling every incredible orifice. The image of that bare-butt buffet of groaning sluts makes me come every time.
“Why would you waste your time daydreaming about dicking the kinds of girls that you fuck in real life?” he concludes. “The way I see it, your imagination is the only place where you can get as down and dirty as you want without any consequences. If mentally porking a nasty, disgustingly filthy porn whore enhances a guy’s sex life with the sweet little angel he really cares about, can that be a bad thing?”
A DAMNED GOOD REASON TO RESPECT YOUR ELDERS
“This is really kind of embarrassing,” reports a twenty-six-year-old certified public accountant who lives in Arizona. “A couple of weeks ago my wife and I were having a Sunday-morning fuck. I’d jumped on her before taking a wake-up piss, so you can imagine how hard my dick was. Unfortunately, as every guy knows it’s more difficult to come in that condition. Being able to stay stiff for a long time becomes sort of pointless if you aren’t able to enjoy the big payoff. I needed some help, and I found it right next door.
“There are probably plenty of guys who fantasize about fucking their neighbors. The only problem for me is that the lady over the fence from our house is a very conservative, silver-haired sixty-three-year-old retiree. She’s pretty well preserved for her age, with one of those age-defying bodies that only rich women can afford to maintain. Still, nobody would mistake her for Katie Holmes, if you know what I mean. Despite that, I still found myself fantasizing that I was a buff stud servicing that rich old matron on an inflatable raft beside her backyard pool. Her years of sexual experience more than made up for the fact that she was old enough to be my grandmother.
She started out by deep-throating my cock, tickling my nuts and sticking a finger up my asshole. Then she leaned back on the raft and told me to ‘fuck the goddamned hell’ out of her. To my amazement, the old lady had one of those snapping-turtle pussies that massaged the shaft of my dick like a greased fist. She might be elegant and refined in her swank evening clothes, but without them she was grunting, groaning and grinding like a horny teenage bitch in heat.
“I turned things up a notch and imagined that her housekeeper, a pretty twenty-two-year-old Guatemalan, came out of the house and stripped down to join us.
“The maid kneeled down, spread my butt cheeks wide and started licking my asshole while I was fucking her big-breasted boss. Then I felt her sliding a massive, strap-on dildo up my shitter while I kept pounding away. She started fucking me just as hard as I was fucking the old lady. That did the trick for me, all right. By the time I was done my wife was so full of my spunk that it was squishing out of her cunt and leaving a big stain all over the sheets.
“So what’s the lesson here? When it comes to helping yourself get off, true inspiration can be right under your nose. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, even if it is a little greyer!”
So there you have it, three sleazy scenarios to get you over the hump until the humping is over. Never forget: A fuck is a terrible thing to waste!
You can contact the scribe of St. James Place at stjamesdawson.com
Stand-up comics are on pretty safe ground when they stick to trite-and-true topics like airline food, annoying in-laws and clueless cabbies. But just think about how many bomb because they’re wildly mistaken about what they think about common likes and dislikes . . .
“Hello, Cincinnati! You know, I just can’t understand sickos who want two girls in the sack at the same time. Sounds to me like too much fuckin’ work. Literally! I mean, you can only bury your bone in one hole at a time, right? So what do you need the other chick around for? Applause? One thing’s for certain: You sure as hell don’t want to see two women start lapping each other like a pair of lesbos. Yuck! That’s just too goddamned weird! Who’s with me on this?” Cut to shot of the audience hurling beer mugs and aspersions about the comic’s manhood.
No two guys are exactly alike when it comes to sexual turn-ons and turn-offs. As the old laxative commercial used to say, “Regular is what’s regular for you.” Every single thing you regard as a Universal Truth has at least one disbeliever out there. Likewise, some stuff you think is normal might deviate from the majority consensus, whether you know it or not.
And that’s no joke.
Loose As A Goose Is Better For Stuffing
“When it comes to pussy, guys think tighter is better, but the exact opposite is true for me,” says Lance, a Marine PFC. “Girls with tight boxes make me feel constricted and uncomfortable. There was one named Zo who a buddy told me was the best lay of his life. When he got tired of her head games and moved on, he said he didn’t mind if I took a shot at her. She was so good-looking that I thought he was crazy for dumping her, so I made my move fast.
“We hooked up at a party and started making out in my car. I got her so hot she wanted me to fuck her right there. She was incredibly wet when I fingered her pussy, but it still took a lot of effort to get my cock inside it. Most guys would count that as a ‘plus,’ but I felt like my dick was being strangled the whole time I screwed her. She climaxed pretty quick, but I had to pull out and jerk myself off to come.
“My buddy thought I was nuts when I told him why I had no interest in doing Zo again. He said there was no such thing as ‘too tight’ and that maybe I should see a shrink. But another guy in our barracks who overheard us got me alone later and offered some advice.
“‘Find an older woman who’s seen a lot of action,’ he said. ‘The more kids she’s had, the better.’
“One of the captain’s wives fit that category, and she’d been giving me the eye around the base. She was in her late thirties and I knew she and the captain had four kids. At the risk of my military career, not to mention my teeth, I decided to test out my friend’s theory.
“I’ll skip the meeting-up and sneaking-off details. But once we were at the motel, I watched her strip while I got out of my fatigues. She had a damned good body, with big, round tits and a narrow waist. After she pushed down her panties, she sat back on the bed and pulled up her knees.
“It was love at first sight. The inner lips of her pussy formed a loose, pink collar around a fuckhole that looked invitingly slack. ‘Come on and fuck me, private,’ she said. ‘You look like a man who needs to get laid ASAP.’
“I got between her legs and took the plunge. Her pussy was so loose and silky I felt like I was screwing a pot of warm honey. I wound up fucking her so hard it’s a wonder the bed didn’t collapse. I was in heaven, banging a juicy cloud of pink cotton candy.
“Since then, we’ve gotten together every chance we get. Eventually, I hope to find a single girl who’s as comfy and accommodating as that delicious mother of four. If I had my way, every woman I meet would have a pussy that was so ‘at ease!’”
The Naked Truth About Nude Ruth
“My girl Ruth’s parents were away, so she invited me to spend a week at their mountainside cabin, a nice rustic place with a bearskin rug and a stone fireplace,” says Roger, a technical writer. “I jumped at the chance to have her all to myself for seven whole days. We’d just started dating, and that was the first time we spent more than a single night together.
“As soon as we were in the door, Ruth got naked and stretched out on the rug. I stripped down and jumped right on top of her. We started off fucking missionary-style, then she said, ‘Do me from behind. You know I like it that way.’ Ruth had a thing about all of us being creatures of the wild beneath our civilized ways. She believed doggie-style sex was the most natural position, because you never see any animal but man mating face-to-face.
“She got on her hands and knees and tilted her pretty ass up. I held her butt cheeks apart and plunged my cock back inside her cunt. She grunted with each of my thrusts then started moaning with pleasure. I went in deep and filled her with more than just good lovin’.
“I got dressed when we were finished, but Ruth didn’t bother. ‘There’s no need to wear clothes when nobody else is around,’ she said. ‘I don’t plan on getting dressed again until we go back home.’
“I thought, This is fucking fantastic! I had seen her run around naked a lot at her apartment or at my place after sex, but I never thought of her as really being a nudist. The prospect of getting to see her naked 24/7 made me think I was in heaven.
“Boy, was I ever wrong! For the first couple of days it was great seeing everything Ruth had every time I looked at her: those pretty C-cup tits, her puffy cunt lips, the deep cleft of her crack. But by the third day I was definitely in ‘too much of a good thing’ territory.
“The only thing Ruth’s constant nudity did for me was take away the fun of ‘unwrapping my present.’ When a girl is nude all the time, getting a glimpse of what she’s got becomes less of a nasty thrill. I actually began looking forward to our drive back to the city because Ruth would be wearing her clothes again. I think even she noticed a drop in my libido toward the end of the week we spent together.
“That all changed when we finished packing our suitcases and got ready to leave the cabin, though. As soon as Ruth stepped into a fresh pair of white cotton panties and snapped on a matching bra, my dick jumped to attention. I was all over her, horny as hell, dying to rip off her underwear and fuck her on the floor.
“Maybe I’m just too civilized for my own good!”
The Answer, My Friend, Ain’t Blowing In The Wind
“You want weird?” asks Teddy, a full-time student. “Try this: I’m twenty-three years old and I’ve gotten blowjobs from more than a dozen girls, but I’ve never come that way. Not once.
“Don’t get me wrong. I like the visual aspect of a blowjob just fine. I love watching a girl suck my dick. There’s nothing sweeter than seeing a girl’s little hand around the base of my dick while she bobs up and down on the head. I love it even more when she makes a lot of noise. All of that slurping and moaning, you can’t beat it!
“And God knows there’s nothing not to like about the way it feels. I love it when a girl really works her lips while she’s sucking dick, like she’s massaging your bone all the way around. Girls who use a lot of tongue are great. I even kind of dig the feel of a girl’s teeth if I’m in the right mood. But when it comes to rewarding a girl’s efforts with the big finish, that never happens. My friends claim that a couple of the babes I’ve been with are world-class cocksuckers, but I’ve never come while getting a blowjob. Unless my dick is in a pussy, I can’t get off.
“There’s one upside to my situation, though. Word has gotten around campus about my ‘problem.’ Now every girl I date is determined to be the one who makes me cream in her mouth.
“College girls can be so shallow,” he grins.
Showroom-New Beats Used Every Time For Cherry-Popping Danny
“I’m pretty sure I’m the exception to the rule when it comes to dating virgins,” admits Danny, a twenty-seven-year-old financial consultant. “Most guys run for the hills when they find out that a girl has never been with a guy. They don’t want the responsibility of being a girl’s first fuck, they imagine she’ll be lousy in bed because she has no experience or they think any girl who hasn’t been popped by a certain age must be repressed, psycho or too religious. But I’m the exact opposite. I wish every girl I went to bed with still had her cherry.
“On those few occasions when I found out that I was dating a virgin, I felt like I’d just won the lottery. The best of them was twenty-two-year-old Linette, who was really sheepish about admitting her virginity. She’d apparently scared away one guy with that information and was afraid that I’d bolt too. I took her by surprise by saying I hoped she’d let me be her first lover. The look of relief and gratitude she gave me made my dick pound. I knew I was in.
“I can’t understand why more guys don’t prefer having sex with virginal girls like Linette. She was pristine, untouched, never even taken out of the showroom for a test drive. Why anybody would prefer a multiple-owner ride with a lot of wear and tear to a factory-fresh model without a single mile on the odometer is something I’ll never figure out.
“Some reassuring sweet talk about how gentle I’d be was all it took to get Linette into bed. Then I sucked two plump, erect nipples that no other man had tasted. I licked my way down to a fastidiously trimmed pussy previously untouched by another tongue or cock. I even pushed up her thighs to get a peek at her little virgin asshole. It looked so dainty and pink and inviting that I swirled my tongue around it. Linette quivered with pleasure.
“She watched in fascination as I rolled a lubricated rubber down over my cock. I knelt between her wide-spread legs and told her to guide my erection into her beautiful pussy. She tentatively took hold of my stiff, throbbing prick and rubbed its head up and down the groove of her cunt. She let the tip of my cock rest against that soft knot of muscle, then she looked into my eyes and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
“I lunged inside her body, making her cry out with astonished pleasure. She clutched me close as I thrust again and again into her cunt. I told her to wrap her legs behind my back. She obeyed immediately. I reached under her butt and slipped a finger up her ass, wanting her to experience every sensation at once.
“I must have been grinding up against her clit at the perfect angle because pretty soon she screamed and bucked and trembled through her very first coital climax. Then I plunged all the way inside her vagina and came, filling the tip of my rubber with semen.
“Linette was so grateful and fulfilled by her first fuck that she gazed at me afterward with undying love and adoration. Then she paid me the ultimate compliment by asking, ‘Can we do that again?’
“Even though she wasn’t a virgin at that point, I granted her request!”
Contact St. James Place scribe Dawson at his website, stjamesdawson.com
Your favorite high-school teacher was so easygoing, worldly-wise and totally together that you knew he had to be scoring major amounts of tail in his free time. • All of your female classmates, even the totally intimidating hot-bodies who were dating college pricks, had crushes on the guy. He had every right to act like a self-satisfied douche bag. But he didn’t. That counted for a lot. He also could have put down you and your buddies on a daily basis for being the unsophisticated dorks you know now that you were. But he didn’t. That counted for a lot more.
You imagined that he was the sort of effortlessly nonchalant stud who would have no trouble convincing two women he just met to join him in bed back at his condo. Even more impressive, both would still be crazy about him the next morning. After they got back into their lacy bras, skimpy panties and hastily discarded party dresses, they’d take turns French-kissing him good-bye. Then they’d hold hands on their way to the elevator.
Basically, you envied the hell out of the guy.
For me, that teacher was a square-jawed, laid-back bohemian creasemaster named Mr. Costello. He was the sort of beyond-the-call-of-duty dude who would do things like bring in rare vinyl records from his private collection to expand his class’s aesthetic horizons.
Among his more obscure artifacts was a surrealistic 1967 album of “Word Jazz” narrated by one Ken Nordine. The LP was called Colors, with each track a free-form ode to a particular hue. Lavender, for example, was “an old, old, lady.” Burgundy was “fat.” Azure was “as way-out as wink, maybe more than that, maybe winkier than wink.” And fuschia was a “fussbudget.”
Weird, baby. Weird!
Now, it’s common knowledge that men who appreciate jazz–or are smart enough to fake it–score pussy much faster than fans of other music genres. Take a young lovely back to your crib and put on a rock, rap or pop CD and she won’t think you’re anything special. Play classical music, and she’ll regard you as a stuffy, no-fun brainiac. But slip on some vintage jazz, maybe a little Miles or Coltrane, and watch what happens. Suddenly, you appear esoteric and earthy and so cool you’re hot. It works even if the girl in question is not a jazz fan herself. Just knowing that you have a taste for something outside the mainstream lends you an air of intriguing sophistication.
At that point clothes are quickly shed, a lipsticked mouth descends upon a throbbing cock, slender legs spread wide to reveal glistening labia and vigorous full-on fucking commences in earnest. All to the sensuous accompaniment of a squealing trumpet, a grunting sax, gently tickled ivories and a lightly brushed snare.
I often imagined Mr. Costello casually cruising an out-of-the-way independent bookstore downtown. He would chance upon some stick-thin, Beat-chick throwback in a grey plaid skirt, black turtleneck, matching bulky knee socks and penny loafers, with a black beret completing her On the Road-era retro ensemble. The two of them would wind up deep in conversation about Sartre or Burroughs or something similar, gravitate to a sidewalk cafe for a couple of espressos and then drift back to his place.
He would put on a mix tape of trad jazz interspersed with Colors tracks for spice. When Ken Nordine’s baritone voice made itself known, naughty Miss Knee Socks would stare at the stereo like a confused cat, wondering from which planet this odd interlude had originated. That’s when Mr. C. would slip his arms around her narrow waist, press his crotch against the cheeks of her ass and ask, “You like?”
Hypnotized by the quirky interplay of vibes and vocals, jumped up on java and excited by the prospect of sex with somebody whose musical tastes ranged beyond Kid Rock, Uncle Kracker and Creed, she would guide his hands to her pert, apple-sized breasts. Her eyes would close. Her head would roll back as he massaged those firm, stiff-tipped mounds. One of his hands would slide inside the top of her skirt. He would maneuver his probing fingers under the elastic waistband of her panties, across the springy curls of her pubic hair and between the puffy lips of her cunt. His middle finger would find her pussy’s opening in that warm, moist valley.
Soon enough she would be blowing him like an accomplished soloist playing his most cherished horn. He would fuck her with ever-changing ad-libs, altering time signatures to keep the groove fresh and unpredictable. They would be jamming all night, cock to cunt, the hottest rhythm section in town, until they reached a wailing crescendo of sweet, sustained release.
Mr. Costello had all but faded from my memory when I learned that an indie label had re-released the Colors album on CD. Hearing its wonders again after all these years, I still think any hipster cool enough to get into it would score points for off-center style.
Then something else occurred to me: “Imagine if the guy who made this amazing album, instead of being a tasteful poetic wordsmith of high morals and unassailable good character, had been an unregenerate reprobate with a flair for flinging four-letter filth?”
With that thought in mind, I submit the following six shamelessly smutty selections from my own spunk-spattered spectrum.
You have prayed for the privilege of peering at Pauline’s pretty, prick-inviting, panty-free pinkness. And now here she is, naked and willing and stretched out in what could only be described as “the pink.”
That most carnal of colors comes in several stimulating shades. Pauline’s fingernails, painted hot-pink, hold open the fleshy outer lips of her pink pussy. She pulls up her knees to display the wet, pale-pink inner pathway to her pubic paradise. She is pretty in pink, and pink is pretty in her.
You put your hungry mouth on that piquant pink pleasure passage. You luxuriate in that wide-open world of glistening, girlish pink. Her pussy is pinker than the rose-pink nipples on her vanilla-pink breasts. Pinker than the red-pink of her tongue, which playfully licks your pulsing, power-pink cock.
You move into position to probe the pleasing pink mouth between her legs with your pink pole. With a powerful lunge, you sink the pink. And you sink it deep.
Exposed to a sufficient amount of heat, the snowy whiteness of virginity melts into the spent, satiated, soft and sloppy off-white slush of sex.
Right after you rolled off of her body, Pauline claimed she never had made love before. You found that hard to believe. Perhaps it was a little off-white lie.
Now she’s squatting beside you on the mattress like a radiantly naked angel with invisible off-white wings. She tugs your still-stiff dick, staring expectantly at its swollen tip. “I know there’s more,” she says, gripping your tool so tightly that her knuckles are off-white.
Sure enough, she milks one last off-white pearl from your cock and laps it up with the tip of her tongue. You know then and there that you want her to be your bride.
In an off-white gown, of course.
Pauline’s twenty-four-karat gold wedding band flashes in the bright golden sunlight as she jerks you off. You are in a rented powerboat off Australia’s Gold Coast, the site of your honeymoon. Pauline has removed her bikini top and thong. She is kneeling naked beside your cushioned seat. Her skin is tanned a deep golden brown that complements the yellow-gold of her blonde hair.
This trip has maxed out your Gold Card, but you don’t mind in the least, because your new wife is worth her weight in gold.
“You want to come in my mouth, don’t you?” she teases, stroking and squeezing your erection. Before you can answer, she puts her mouth over your cock. Her gold earrings dangle against her smooth, golden shoulders.
You don’t hold back. With a groan of gratification, you go for the gold by giving Pauline everything you’ve got.
Six months later, you catch her with another man. You came home from work early and snuck around the back of your house, hoping to surprise your sexy wife with a bouquet of “no special occasion” roses. The last thing you expected was to find her naked and flat on her back under your next-door neighbor, yelping with pleasure while she got fucked.
You don’t know how to react. Frankly, you are so stunned and disoriented that you feel a little green around the gills. Writhing under Greg’s body, Pauline grunts and groans on the green, green grass of what you had thought was your happy home. Unconsciously, you twist and snap the green stems of the flowers in your hand.
You should feel jealous. The green-eyed monster should make you wonder exactly what Greg has that you don’t. Sure, in his job as a corporate lawyer he makes a whole lot of the green stuff. Then again, Pauline never seemed particularly grasping or greedy. Maybe she’s just looking to find greener pastures with someone else now because she was so green with inexperience when she married you. Is Greg’s grass greener?
You realize that none of that matters. You’re staring in fascination at the two of them without moving, but your heart is racing. You can’t take your eyes off of their naked, writhing, clutching bodies. Greg’s cock plunges in and out of your wife’s slick cunt like a greased piston. You try to imagine the incredible lust that would inspire these two adulterers to strip down and screw right there on the grass, like a pair of animals.
Greg rolls sideways away from you, without pulling out of Pauline’s sweet snatch. You see deep green grass stains all over your wife’s beautiful bare back. Greg is holding Pauline’s plump ass cheeks open with both hands. You can see his greased erection sliding in and out of the stretched gasket of your bride’s cunt.
You enjoy seeing your wife with another man. More than that, you love it. As far as you are concerned, Pauline has a green light to take on as many lovers as she wants.
The flaming red passions of lust and raw desire burn through your body. You hope the red-hot scene before you never ends. Now that you are over the initial shock of catching Pauline red-handed, watching her get fucked by another man is the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen in your life.
You feel your cock stiffen as you watch Greg’s big, red dick pump in and out of Pauline’s reddened cunt. You know your face is flushed with red as you let the bouquet of red roses drop from your hand. You slink behind the red-brick backyard barbecue to watch this sexy scene play itself out against the red sunset.
Pauline gets on top of Greg, riding his hard cock like a red-light-district slut. Greg raises up on his elbows to suck her erect nipples. When he takes his mouth away, they’re red as cherries.
“I can feel you coming,” Pauline says, rubbing her mound. “Oh God!”
They climax together as you watch through a lusty haze of red. For as long as you live, you never will forget this red-letter day.
You snuck away from watching the scene so you could return home at the regular time.
You didn’t reveal that you knew Pauline’s secret. Now she’s asleep beside you, dozing under the black satin sheets of your marriage bed.
What would she say if she knew you were picturing her with Greg while you fucked her that night? In the private black sanctum behind your closed eyes, you had rerun the irresistible image Greg’s thick cock pumping her wide-stretched pussy. The memory would never lose its power to thrill you.
It was like black magic.
How would she feel if she knew that right now, in the pitch-black limbo of your inky, post-midnight bedroom, you were replaying that same dirty movie while you touched and tugged yourself?
You hope you will catch her again, and soon, with Greg or maybe with some other man.
With any other man. Maybe with a black man, a really muscular jet-black stud with ebony muscles and a blacksnake-size cock. You hope Pauline fills an entire little black book with lovers.
There in the pitch darkness, just before you drift into a sable-colored sleep, you smile with satisfaction. Although you keep the reason to yourself, at least for now, you’re absolutely over the rainbow with happiness.
Contact the scribe of St. James Place at stjamesdawson.com
So a Hollywood honey I know is saying such despicable things that I have to ask myself one question: “Why the hell do I find her so incredibly hot?”
Every guy is acquainted with at least one irresistible girl whose mind-set is totally at odds with his own. His principles tell him to ignore her kiss-me face, her suck-me tits, her grab-me ass and her stuff-me pussy. But the “kook alert” warning flag his brain sends up can’t compete with something else she makes go up.
In my case, the heartbreaker I hanker for is a D-girl Lotusland-speak for “development girl” named Donna. D-girls are usually just-out-of-college nuggets hired for next to nothing to pass first judgment on scripts submitted to movie production companies. They almost never have written much less sold screenplays themselves. Yet screenplays must receive their stamp of approval in order to move up the line to people who might actually buy them. Think of a whorehouse hiring a virgin as its hiring screener, and you’ve got the right idea.
Donna is undeniably delicious. She shows off her amazing “ski-slope” tits–the all-natural kind that curve up at the nips, with nicely rounded undersides–in lacy camisoles under see-through blouses, or leotard tops that hug those jugs like a coat of paint, or polo shirts without bras.
A one-act play Donna wrote was staged at an amateur theater once by a friend. She says her favorite thing about that experience was a contract clause stipulating that not a word she had written could be altered. Changing topics, she complains that a veteran, Oscar-winning screenwriter had the nerve to resent her for saying he should use her extensive notes to completely rewrite his latest script.
I ask if she doesn’t see the irony in that. My intense desire to tongue-slalom down her mammillary ski jumps keeps me from saying “hypocrisy.” She laughs off the question by saying that screenplays always need to fit certain formulas. Anybody out there still wonder why most movies suck?
As a writer, I should have called her a damnable philistine and a fool. But those tits . . . those magnificent, mouth-watering tits! Which was more important, standing up for artistic integrity or jug-fucking those jutting, jiggling juggernauts? Let’s face it, the only “formula” I cared about was: “Boy meets girl, boy eats girl, boy sticks meat in girl, boy has double-meat cheeseburger later.”
Here are some other examples of women men know they should have nothing to do with but can’t resist doing anyway.
The Other-Party Girl
The blonde in the black tankini walks toward the health-club pool. The bottom half of her swimsuit is so tiny, she must be shaved bare. Around back, the skimpy triangle covering her ass is wedged in her crack.
You have to meet her. You introduce yourself, then scramble for something else to say. She looks smart, so you ask if she is following the election campaign.
“Absolutely,” she says, lifting her arms to sweep her hair behind her ears. This causes her oversized tits to swing from side to side, making your cock throb. She adds that her top priority is making sure a certain candidate is soundly defeated, because she loathes everything he stands for.
You try not to appear shocked. You have worked in that candidate’s office for three years. You went from house to house campaigning for him all summer. You missed your own mother’s funeral because you were stuffing envelopes for one of his mass mailings.
You glance down, stunned, trying to collect your thoughts. You stare at the bisected bulge the blonde’s obviously shaved pussy makes in her swimsuit. You imagine running your tongue up and down that hairless groove, then fingering it while you suck her tits, then plunging your cock balls-deep inside that slick, satiny slot.
You look her in the eyes and say, “Yeah, anybody who’d vote for that scumbag should be hung for treason. Say, want to get a Frappuccino later?”
Like they say, politics makes strange bedfellows.
Right There in Black and White
Your blind date has a face like a supermodel, with midnight-black hair and ivory-white skin. The prospect of her succulent red lips wrapped around your stiff dick keeps you hard all through dinner.
The two of you encounter a surly panhandler on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. He yells that you are a pair of “cheap motherfuckers” when you pass him by. You ignore his rant and keep walking. Your date whispers, “Those people are so disgusting.” Then she calls the bum a word most frequently heard in rap videos and Klan rallies.
You should put her in her place. Hell, your own dad is black, even though you are so light-skinned that no one can tell. If you keep quiet, you will be perpetuating the problem. On the other hand, your chances of slipping this bigoted beauty some bone will decrease drastically if you speak up. You decide this really is not the time to go all “one world” on her.
Later, maybe you fuck her extra hard with your half-black cock, because you know what you know. She doesn’t seem to mind. She has her legs wrapped around your waist and her tongue in your mouth and is groaning like a slut.
You wonder whether telling her your secret later, after she has been thoroughly and satisfyingly screwed, might change her narrow-minded attitude. At that point, maybe your big dick will have sufficiently inoculated her to cure her sickness. Then again, maybe she would round up a lynch mob. Things could go either way.
You feel her cunt gripping your white-chocolate cock, squeezing it as she climaxes. That’s when you decide she might need a few more dick injections–like maybe a few hundred or so–before you bring up the subject.
After all, they say the best way to accomplish real change is by working from within.
Call of the Wild
Christy is resolutely antifur, pickets circuses every weekend and calls her cat a “companion animal.” She also is totally vegan. You are cool with that, so long as she keeps swallowing your salami.
She smells and tastes better than any other girl you ever have been with. She says that’s because nonvegetarians are full of animal-flesh toxins and chemical growth hormones. Her pussy’s flavor is so sweet that you could tongue-fuck her for hours, with occasional side trips to her daisy-fresh asshole. You can’t resist licking the delicate sweat from her armpits when you fuck her.
One day during group discussion in your college ethics course, she claims that running over and killing a cat would make her feel worse than killing a person. “Humans should know better than to stand in the road,” she explains.
You consider pointing out that she is nuts. Then you casually bring your hand to your face. You finger-fucked her creamy cunt that morning. You can still smell its barely-there aroma.
You keep your mouth shut. However, you make a mental note to do all of the driving when you are out together.
Oh God, I’m Coming
You are lying on a grassy hillside under the stars with Marianne. You can’t believe she asked you, of all people, to help her supervise this bible-school camping trip. The last time you were in church was when you were eleven years old.
Still, any excuse to be with Marianne is fine with you. You have wanted to get in her pants since high school. Unfortunately, she seemed to get more devout by the day, which pretty much killed any possibility of fornication.
Now that all the kids are asleep in the valley and the two of you are alone, though, the time seems ripe to make another attempt.
“Marianne, do you really believe all that sin and damnation nonsense?”
“I sure do,” she earnestly replies. You roll your eyes.
“But aren’t we all sinners at heart?”
“Some of us more than others.”
“And aren’t all sins forgiven? Sins of the flesh, I mean?”
She rolls onto her side and faces you in the semidarkness. “Listen, do you want to fuck me?” she asks.
You are so shocked, you can’t answer at first. Then you blurt, “Yeah, definitely!” You reach for her belt.
“Hold on. You have to pray for forgiveness with me when we’re done. And you have to promise never to make any more smart-ass comments about religion.”
“Okay, yeah, sure!”
Neither of you speaks as you undo her khaki shorts. You pull them and her white cotton panties down her bare legs. Her golden pubic hair glistens in the moonlight. You push her thighs apart and put your mouth on her soft, pink pussy. You can taste her getting wet.
Marianne sighs, “Put it in me now. I want you to fuck me.”
This is too good, too fantastic! She is unbelievably tight, but once you are inside her body, you feel her natural juices lubricating your cock. She gasps and groans as you fuck her. You are so turned on, you can’t help yourself. You pull free of her cunt and gush your load onto her smooth belly.
Panting, you get on your knees beside Marianne, clasp your hands and bow your head. A deal is a deal.
“Not yet,” Marianne sighs, reaching over to stroke your slick cock. “I said when we’re done. And we won’t be done for a while yet.”
Getting back between her legs, you realize that you are quite sincerely thanking God.
You can contact Forum chronicler Dawson at stjamesdawson.com.
There’s nothing hotter to lots of Penthouse Letters readers than watching their wife have wild, dirty, sheet-ripping sex with another man. Or with two men at once. Or more. As often as possible.
“Men” is the key word here. No guy on Earth would object to seeing his lady love get it on with another girl. Hell, that’s every man’s fantasy! There’s something totally non-threatening, beautiful and erotic as hell about watching two women lick, suck, caress and finger each other’s bare tits, slippery pussies and spread asses. Is there a man alive who hasn’t hinted, suggested, cajoled, pleaded or outright begged his bedmate to be “bi-curious” with her best-looking female friend?
What “wife-watchers” want, though, is something completely different. They want to see their women sucking other cocks, getting fucked by other cocks, taking other cocks up the ass. They want to watch their wives have “marital relations,” but outside of marriage.
The three accounts below may not convince you to pull up a ringside seat and watch your own significant other slut it up with some stiff-dicked stranger, but on the other hand, they do give all-new meaning to the phrase “Sharing is caring.”
HERE’S A BETTER QUESTION THAN ”PAPER OR PLASTIC?”
“We were in line at the grocery store,” remembers Barry, “when my wife whispered to me, ‘I’d love to get fucked by that one. I bet he has a really big cock.’ She pointed to an Italian-looking guy in sunglasses.
“My wife and I have an agreement: Nothing we do is considered cheating as long as both of us are present. We grew up in very permissive families in Topanga Canyon to real hippie-throwback types, and both of us enjoy having sex with other partners.
“But for me, watching Meredith with another man is even more exciting than being with another woman. Even after four kids, Meredith still has a fantastic body, with softly rounded curves and a nice, flat stomach. I love seeing my wife lying naked on her back with her legs wrapped around another man. I love watching another guy’s hard cock sliding in and out of her beautiful, bushy cunt. I love watching her cry out with orgasms she gets from men she just met.
“I asked her if she wanted me to find out if the Italian was interested in having some fun. She nodded eagerly.
“We waited on the sidewalk outside the store. When the Italian guy emerged, I tapped him on the shoulder. ‘I’ve got a proposition for you,’ I said. ‘My wife really likes your looks. Her name is Meredith.’
“He looked her up and down, plainly liking what he saw. ‘So?’ he said, cocking an eyebrow.
“I eased closer. ‘We want to know if you’re interested in fucking her.’
“‘Whoa, ease up!’ he said, taking a step backward. ‘Just because I was eyeing her in the store doesn’t mean I want any trouble.’
“Meredith blushed, flattered to hear that he’d noticed her. I said, ‘No, you have it wrong. She wants to have sex with you. But there’s one condition. You only get to fuck her if I can watch.’
“The guy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Sounds pretty weird to me,’ he said. ‘Are you two for real?’
“Meredith answered by quickly flipping up the front of her short sundress. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her pussy was shaved, with a tiny rose tattoo just above the deep split of her cunt lips.
“‘We’ve got a van,’ I told the stranger. ‘Come on, if you’re interested.’ Meredith and I walked hand-in-hand toward our converted VW bus, which was painted in day-glo colors and had lace curtains at the windows. Like I said, we’re just a pair of new-millennium hippies at heart.
“Two minutes later, Meredith was on all fours on the shag carpet in the back of the van, the hem of her dress pushed up around her slender waist. The stranger was on his knees, working his hard cock into my wife’s cunt.
“She was already plenty wet. And just as she had guessed, her latest lover turned out to have an impressively large dick, much bigger than my own.
“‘Damn, your cunt’s tight,’ he groaned, pumping her hard. I knew what he said was true. Meredith has always had one of the tightest cunts it’s been my pleasure to see get fucked.
“The stranger spread Meredith’s smooth butt cheeks and teased her asshole with his thumb while he slid his big cock in and out of her pussy. Meredith threw back her head and gritted her teeth, loving every second.
“Then he pushed his thumb completely inside her puckered asshole. That did it. She started groaning and whimpering through a beautiful, trembling climax. When the wave had passed, she looked back over a shoulder at him.
“‘Come inside me,’ she purred. ‘Shoot your come all the way into my womb. I want to feel it all!’
“I watched the stranger grimace and thrust his dick in as far as it would go. He kept it there while he came. Some of his come dripped from Meredith’s stretched pussy when he finally pulled his spent erection out of her. Meredith quickly placed her hand over her pretty opening then rolled onto her back on the shag carpet to prevent any more of his semen from escaping.
“She grinned at her latest lover. ‘I hope I have a baby who’s as strong and handsome as you are,’ she sighed.
‘That stunned him. He said, ‘Uh, look, I’ve got to go.’ He zipped up and was out of the van in a flash.
“My wife and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. ‘Men are so funny sometimes,’ Meredith said, absent-mindedly rubbing her slippery cunt. ‘I wish more of them were like you. Except for the low sperm count, I mean.’
“I leaned forward and gave her a long, deep kiss. I knew exactly what she meant.”
CHURCHGOING VOYEUR SAYS SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE
“The nickname my co-workers gave me is ‘Flanders,’ like the character on The Simpsons, because I devote a lot of time to my church,” Marty says. “But if they knew how I spend my Saturday nights, they’d be flat-out amazed!
“My wife Sally was a wild girl before we got married. I met her when she was leaving a Wednesday AA meeting at my church. My hobby is woodworking, and I’d been helping refinish the altar. She spotted me kneeling on a tarp with a power sander in my hand.
“She was smoking an unfiltered cigarette and dressed like a tramp, in tight jeans and a scoop-neck top that showed off her big bustline. She asked if I wanted to go out for a drink. I said that might not be such a good idea, considering.
“‘What, you mean considering I’m a drunk?’ she asked indignantly.
“I know it sounds like the ultimate case of opposites attracting, but I was crazy about her right from that very second. I explained that I wasn’t being judgmental, I just didn’t drink. She seemed embarrassed about jumping to the wrong conclusion. Then she half-closed her eyes. ‘Well, what do you do for fun?’
“I held up the power sander and gunned its trigger.
“She looked at me sideways then shocked me to my bones by asking, ‘Have you ever had your dick sucked by a girl you just met?’ I looked up at her with my mouth hanging open. ‘Come on, baby,’ she whispered. ‘It’s not a tough question.’ Then she hooked a finger in my shirt collar and said, ‘Come with me for a minute.’
“She led me to the pastor’s study. That’s where she got on her knees, undid my pants and took out my hard-on. I felt like I was under a spell as I watched her lick and suck it. She looked so sinfully delicious with my erection in her mouth that it didn’t take anywhere near that whole minute for me to lose control.
“Sally gulped down every drop. That was it for me. I was all hers.
“We ended up having quite a bit of pre-marital sex after that. Morally I knew it was wrong, but Sally was too much of a temptress for me to resist. She was a real nasty-talker, too, and I picked up the habit from her. I started calling things by their dirtiest names.
“A couple of months later, she did me the honor of becoming my spouse. She settled down at first like a good little wife, going to church with me every Sunday and staying off the bottle. Still, I could tell she was getting itchy.
“She had told me plenty of times about guys she was with before we got together. To be honest, those stories always got me really excited. I loved hearing her talk about getting fucked by men she had met in bars or at the truck stop out on the interstate or down at the bowling alley. I knew I should have been disgusted to hear her talk about swallowing come and getting ass-fucked and taking on two guys at once in the back of an RV, but damn, those stories were hot!
“It finally dawned on me that I wanted to see other men fuck her. I wanted to watch her actually doing the dirty things she talked about.
“So one day I said, ‘Honey, I can tell you’re too much woman to be happy with one man, and I don’t want you sneaking around behind my back. What would you think of letting me watch while you have sex with other men?’
“I guess she knew me better than I knew myself because she didn’t even seem surprised. She promised to keep things discreet if I would give her one night a week to be bad in front of me.
“That first Saturday, Sally brought home a guy who was signed up for manual labor day jobs at the temp agency where she worked. He was surprised to see me when he walked in our front door, but Sally told him to relax. Then she kissed him full on the mouth, right there in our living room.
“He looked like he was afraid I might throw a punch. I just smiled and said, ‘What’s the matter, don’t you like her? Go on, don’t mind me.’
“He looked back at Sally. She kissed him again, a long one with a lot of tongue. Then she reached for his zipper. That time, the stranger acted like I wasn’t even there. That was exactly what I wanted. I settled back in my easy chair.
“Sally went to her knees, undid the stranger’s pants and took out his cock. He didn’t look in my direction when she started sucking his dick. Sally has a way of getting a man’s undivided attention.
“She asked him, ‘Are you going to eat my pussy, baby? I love to get eaten before I get fucked.’ Then she sucked him some more.
“The stranger let himself enjoy her mouth for another couple of minutes. Then Sally slipped off her black panties, hiked up her short skirt and sat on the sofa with her legs spread. The stranger put his mouth on her pussy, going deep with his tongue.
“Watching him lick and kiss that beautiful, pink snatch made me start stroking my cock. Sally was so beautiful, so sexual, so womanly. When the guy got on top of my wife and pushed his stiff cock up her creamy cunt, I tugged even harder. I came before he did, shooting a load all over my shirt.
“Sally told the stranger, ‘Come in my mouth while my husband watches us.’ He did as he was told, barely making it from her pussy to her face before his cock started spurting. That was when I knew I’d never get tired of seeing her with other men.
“Sally’s had lots of lovers since then. So far, none of them have been men that we see in church the next morning. They don’t seem much like the churchgoing type. Then again, I’ll bet a lot of people would say the same about me if they knew how I spent my Saturday nights!”
BABY, YOU CAN DRIVE SOMETHING A LOT SWEETER THAN MY CAR
“There are two reasons why I wanted to see another man fuck my wife,” reports an auto mechanic named Alex. “First, I wanted to save my marriage. Second, I wanted to show her off.
“Lots of my friends bitch about how their wives let themselves go after they get a ring on their finger. Penny was the exact opposite. Instead of gaining weight, she exercised so much she had a better body two years after our wedding than she had before it!
“Guys always stared at her wherever she went. I knew she had a strong sex drive and that she must be getting even more male attention when I wasn’t around. Plus she might want to prove that she still had it even after giving up the single life. To me, that meant it was only a matter of time before she would cheat.
“I decided a little preventive maintenance might keep our marriage from going south. I came right out and asked her if there was anybody besides me that she wanted to have sex with. Before she could answer, I added something else: ‘The reason I’m asking is because I want to watch other men fuck you.’
“You should have seen her eyes light up. I could tell that the idea had never even occurred to her. The thought that she might get to have another man screw her in front of me obviously appealed to her exhibitionist streak.
“And I wasn’t lying. Something inside me really wanted to see how my sleek little beauty of a wife would perform with another man. I wanted to have the ‘out of body’ experience of seeing what she looked like with another guy putting her through her paces.
“I’ll skip the boring preparations and get straight to the good stuff. She brought home Warren, the brother of a girl in her office. He was a really buff-looking young guy with a moustache. He acted like the idea of a three-way was no big deal, which made things easier, but he did act surprised when I didn’t join him and Penny in bed.
“‘I only want to watch, for now,’ I said. ‘Go ahead, open her up and see what she’ll do.’
“I watched him put his face between Penny’s legs and lick her pussy. Warren rooted and sucked her cunt lips, making her writhe with pleasure. She was as finely tuned as a sports car–and when he finally mounted her and pushed his cock deep inside her cunt, she took him for the ride of his life.
“Watching her squirm and buck and arch her back while he fucked her was the only cue I needed to start jerking myself off. I couldn’t believe she was still such a high-performance honey even after two years of marriage. She was actually wearing this young guy out.
“‘Fuck my cunt! Fuck it hard! Fuck my pussy!’ she yelped, thrusting her crotch up against his. I could tell Warren was trying not to come, but Penny was too sexy for him to resist the urge.
“‘Fuck!’ he groaned, burying his face in her neck and thrusting deep into her hole. Watching the two of them from behind, I actually could see Warren’s balls throbbing and tightening as he pumped my wife full of semen. Finally, he rolled off of her and lay back on the bed with his eyes closed.
“Penny was sweaty and flushed. Her knees were still drawn up, displaying her crotch. Her cunt was gaping open from the fucking she’d just gotten. A little of Warren’s pearl-colored come drooled from her glistening slit.
“I pushed her thighs farther apart and hungrily put my mouth to her beautiful, milky snatch. Warren may have driven my wife home, but I was the one taking the victory lap!”
You can contact the scribe of St. James Place by e-mail through his website at stjamesdawson.com
Idly flipping channels one evening at stately St. James Manor, I chanced upon a classic “old-school” Star Trek episode. Spock and Kirk were pounding the ham out of each other in a no-quarter death match instigated by a leggy Vulcan hottie named T’Pring. Afterward, when T’Pring’s secret suitor Stonn claims the mindfucking little minx for his own, Spock imparts these words of wisdom:
“Stonn, she is yours. After a time, you may find that ‘having’ is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as ‘wanting.’ It is not logical, but it is often true.”
For somebody who only got horny once every seven years, the guy with the pointy ears definitely knew what he was talking about.
Consider a fellow we will call Leo. “I had the hots for my best friend’s girl,” he confesses. “Jaynie had one of those way-skinny TV-star bodies, like Calista Flockhart but with bigger jugs. She turned me on so much that I would lie awake fantasizing about sucking those tits, spreading her slender legs, and sliding my cock up her cunt.
“I either had to make my move or regret keeping quiet for the rest of my life. So I drove to Jaynie’s when my buddy was at work and poured my heart out. I said I knew that trying to get with her was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Jaynie reacted better than I could have hoped. ‘I’ve had my eye on you, too,’ she purred. ‘But I always thought you would tell on me.’
“We started making out. She yanked me inside her apartment. We stripped off our clothes real damned fast and got on the bed. She lowered her mouth toward my cock. And, although I know I will sound like a total ingrate for saying this, she was just plain lousy at oral sex.
“You would think that giving a guy head would be a tough thing to do wrong. But Jaynie was one of those ‘lick it and kiss it’ girls. She couldn’t seem to figure out that I wanted her to put her lips around my dick and actually suck the damned thing!
“I said, ‘Put it in your mouth. I want to watch you suck my cock.’
“She said, ‘Okay.’ I felt those puffy, pink lips of hers cover the tip of my rod. And that was about as far as she got. She barely fit her mouth over my cockhead before she backed off, saying, ‘It’s just too big.’ I should mention that I’m strictly average down there, by the way. Then she went back to half-heartedly lapping up and down the sides of my tool.
“Okay, so I was disappointed. But even if she wouldn’t win any cocksucking trophies, I still had a beautiful girl licking my prick, and that definitely wasn’t all bad. Plus everything would be forgiven if she turned out to be a decent lay.
“She leaned back on the bed. I plunged inside her pussy. I kind of hoped she would wrap her legs around my back, or thrust her crotch, or, well, at least move a little. Instead, nothing. Jaynie was content to lie there like a love doll.
“Fortunately, I was so ready to pop that I came in no time anyway. After that, I told Jaynie what we had done was terribly wrong, and that we should pretend nothing had happened. She seemed to accept that.
“But here’s the funny part. Even though fucking Jaynie had not been as great as I hoped, and even though I really did feel guilty afterward, I still want to do her again! I mean, there’s always the chance that her technique will improve with practice, right?”
For our second example, consider Charlie, a midwestern university grad student. “Until I was twenty-four, none of the girls I scored with ever let me go ‘around back.’ Maybe that’s why I became completely obsessed with the idea of having anal sex.
“I got to the point where the only porn videos I rented were the ‘in through the out door’ variety. I would flip past men’s magazine photos of tits and pussies, searching for shots of girls holding their cheeks apart to expose their sweet, tender, tantalizing asshole.
“I flat-out begged my girlfriend Tina more than once to let me fuck her in the butt. Her standard response was, ‘Don’t be disgusting.’ She never complained when I licked her ass during oral sex, and she didn’t seem to mind when I eased a finger up her hiney when we were screwing. But she emphatically did not want anything bigger than that invading her precious sphincter.
“Then something happened that made my dream come true. When I knocked on Tina’s door one afternoon, a slutty-looking blonde stuck her head out of the next room down the dormitory hall. ‘Tina had to split for some kind of family emergency,’ the gum-chewing stranger said. She looked me up and down, like she was sizing me up at a singles bar. I had just come from a meeting with my thesis professor, so I was dressed pretty decent. ‘You’re Charlie, right?’
“I said, ‘Yeah. How did you . . .’
“‘I’ve heard you two going at it. The walls in this dorm are paper thin. And let me clue you in on something: Tight-assed Tina is never going to let you fuck her butt.’ She popped her gum to emphasize the point.
“I was stunned, to put it mildly. Before I could respond, the blonde said, ‘Now, a girl like me, I’m a different story. I just love taking a big, stiff dick up the ass. And I’ve got all afternoon free.’ The way she said it implied that I wouldn’t be the first guy she had fucked within two minutes of making his acquaintance.
“Maybe she and Tina had some kind of rivalry going, and she only wanted to bed me so she could taunt Tina with the fact later. Maybe she was a psycho who would stalk me to my grave if I took her up on her anal offer.
“Like I gave a damn! There was no way I could pass up a chance like that.
“She didn’t want any chit-chat or kissing. Both of us stripped without a word. She handed me a tube of Astroglide from beside her bed. Then she got on all fours and said, ‘Lube me up for your big cock.’
“Her asshole was already dilated to the diameter of a quarter, proving she was no novice at this. I squeezed a big dollop onto that silky pink opening, then massaged it deep inside with two fingers.
“She moaned and rubbed her pussy with one hand. ‘Now stick your dick in me,’ she said. ‘I want you to fuck my ass good and hard.’
“I got behind her on the mattress and pushed my granite-hard cock inside her anus. It wasn’t easy. Her rectum was as tight as a tourniquet! I know it’s hard to believe that there is such a thing as ‘too snug’ when it comes to fucking, but this was a case of ‘too much of a good thing.’
“Even with all that lube, I couldn’t get any slide-action going. My dick was secured as firmly as a toggle-bolt in her backside.
“But I’ve got to admit one thing. The sight of her asshole stretched around the base of my cock like a pink rubber ring was damned sexy. That view all by itself was enough to make me come. After I shot off my load, I was able to slip free of her clutching hole.
“I had a whole new appreciation for pussy after that. I told myself that the too-tight-for-comfort anal experience had cured me of wanting any more backdoor action.
“But I can’t figure something out: How come I keep thinking back to that hot, tight, incredible asshole every single night before I go to sleep?”
For our final scenario, let’s turn to a construction worker named Kurt. “I’ve been married for four years, and Carol is a terrific wife, but you know how it is. Whether he admits it or not, every guy with a ring on his finger wants a little variety after a while. The problem was that I didn’t want to screw around behind Carol’s back.
“I mentioned my situation to a coworker at a job site. He said I should take Carol with me to a swingers club. Then he recommended one where he had gone with his wife, explaining that it really helped to enhance their vanilla, missionary-style sex life.
“I eased into the topic that night. I asked Carol, ‘Would you believe that Bruce and Loretta have been to a wife-swapping club?’
“‘Sure,’ Carol said. ‘Loretta told me about it last month.’ Then she smiled and added, ‘Why exactly would you be mentioning such a thing, hmmm?’
“Come to find out, Carol was as excited by the thought of going to the club as I was. She said she had wanted to suggest the idea for weeks, but she didn’t want me to think she was a big slut!
“That Saturday, we showed up at the club and purchased a one-month trial membership. We mingled a little at the bar. Then we took the plunge by heading into the back. That’s where Bruce said all the real action happened.
“We had to leave our clothes in a locker and wrap towels around our waists. Then we got our first glimpse of the human buffet in the semi-darkness. We saw men and women from their twenties to their fifties, all with one thing in mind. Some already had paired off and were fucking and sucking on floor mattresses. It was damned hard not to stare.
“A woman in her early thirties tapped me on the shoulder. ‘You want to party?’ she said over the loud music. Her bare tits were full and round, with big flapjack-style nipples. She flashed open the towel around her narrow waist, showing me her bushy blonde pussy. It was a work of art. My cock immediately started rising.
“I looked toward Carol. She was in conversation with a muscular guy who was stroking her arm. I felt a pang of jealousy. Then the blonde reached inside my towel and rubbed my hard-on. ‘Come on, baby,’ she said. ‘You’ll like this.’ Then she dropped to her knees and started sucking my cock.
“After four years of faithfulness, the feel a new woman’s mouth on my dick was enough to make me want to come in seconds. I somehow managed to hold off, even when she began stroking my balls. ‘I want to fuck you,’ I said, desperate to get inside her cunt before I shot my load.
“She grabbed a condom from a bowl outside one of the doorless alcoves. She knelt on the mattress inside and rolled the rubber down onto my cock, then leaned back with her knees drawn up. She even held the lips of her pussy apart.
“I practically jumped on top of her and started fucking. This place is heaven, I thought. Then I caught a glimpse of another mattress outside the doorway. Carol was naked on it, on all fours. The guy she had been talking to was fucking her from behind, really going at it. Another guy had his hard cock in Carol’s mouth. She was sucking him like a high-priced whore.
“Seeing my wife getting double-teamed like that seemed totally wrong. I felt like an idiot for coming to this club. I wished I had stayed home. Getting what I wanted was not worth having to watch Carol with other men. I resolved never to come back again, and I hoped like hell that Carol would feel the same way.
“That was when the blonde under me started groaning with genuine passion. ‘Yeah, baby,’ she cried. ‘God, you’re fucking me so hard, so good, so goddamned good! I didn’t think you were into this at first, but oh God! Oh my God!’ Her pussy squeezed down on my cock as she climaxed.
“That set me off, too. I filled the tip of my rubber so full, it’s a wonder the thing didn’t explode. I thought I hated watching other guys fuck Carol. But at the same time, it turned me on more than anything I had ever seen in my life!”
So, there you have it–three guys who boldly went where they hadn’t been before. Even if their destinations differed from what they expected, all would agree on one thing: Getting fucked beats forever saying “Fuck!” about a missed opportunity.
That’s only logical.
St. James Place scribe Dawson can be contacted through his stjamesdawson.com website.
At least twice a year, the thought crosses my mind that I probably could pick up some easy dough by teaching a night-school course on how to write porn. Or “erotica,” if you prefer. Manly fiction that includes terms such as “cunt,” “fuckhole” and “shit-chute” takes on an air of refined sophistication when referred to that way, instead of being labeled as “smut,” “jerk-off junk” or the more all-inclusive “filth.”
The labor involved would be minimal. Most classroom hours in any writing course consist of students stroking each other, with the instructor dribbling out occasional pearls of writerly wisdom. “Use the active voice” is always a winner. The toughest part of the job would be trying to appear discreet about hitting on the more appealing members of the female student body.
Some wanna-be eroticists would pony up the tuition out of an honest desire to learn the ins-and-outs of sexual syntax and purple plotting. But most of my sleazy disciples would be after something more basic. All they would want is a list of industry contacts. That means I could expect phone calls later from several annoyed editors, bitching at me for inspiring a flood of amateurish submissions based on the general theme of “me and this girl fucked.”
The alternative, of course, would be even more horrifying. What if one of my priapic pupils turned out to have actual talent? There are only so many open slots for men’s-mag prose in a given month. Call me petty, but I wouldn’t want to lose a sale to some up-and-comer who had been my own smutmeister’s apprentice.
And so, in the interest of self-preservation, I forgo the opportunity to corrupt impressionable minds and I forget about the idea. Until the next semester rolls around, that is, and I go through the same internal battle all over again. Easy money is a hard concept to shake.
But even if I never play porno professor, I still feel the need to Give Something Back, to uplift the ignorant, to educate the illiterate. Hey, how about teaching people the alphabet? I’m sure there are plenty of foul-minded immigrants, depraved hillbillies, brain-damaged perverts and all-around fuck-ups who never bothered to learn those twenty-six magical letters. If you know one of them, hand him this public-service article and change his sorry life for the better.
After all, a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.
Alicia never anticipated that Andy would ask her to avail him of her anus. Still, an agreement was an agreement. And, after all, she had announced that Andy could have any action he wanted if he actually got an “A” in accounting. Alas, he asked for her own “A.”
As she held her ass-cheeks apart to allow him access, Alicia felt him push all the way to her appendix. A bit alarmed, all she could say was, “Aaaaaaaa!”
“Big boobs are beautiful,” Brad bellowed. “Babes with bustlines that burst the buttons of their blouses make my bone go boing. And Betty’s bongos are the best.”
“Bullshit,” Brian blustered. “Bernice’s bra-busters make Betty’s look itsy-bitsy.”
Brad belligerently bopped Brian on the brainpan. Brian, rebuffed, backed down. “You’re the boss,” he brayed. “Now, can we get back to battling this brushfire, before their bordello burns down?”
Connie couldn’t control herself when Carl caressed her cunt with his cold, chromium claw. Who could have conceived that the car crash which claimed his catching hand would be the catalyst that finally caused her to come?
“This is incredibly kinky,” she cooed.
“Hey, that’s spelled with a k,’ not a c,’” Carl carped.
“Oh, crap,” Connie conceded.
“Darwin was a dumbass,” Donna droned. “If his damned discourses were definitive, doesn’t that dictate that donkey-dicked Don Juans should be predominant?”
“Duh,” Denise declaimed.
“So how come every Dave, Doug and Danny I date has a dinky dong, instead of looking like Dirk Diggler?”
“Dat’s da breaks,” Denise drawled.
Edward, an electrician from Eggleston, had introduced Erin to the exciting, empowering and occasionally embarrassing world of what he entertainingly alluded to as “e-nal sex.” Employing email, they exchanged explicit epistles about enjoining his erection and her exit-hole.
Eventually, they arranged an encounter. Edward was so eager he arrived early. Erin, having lost her Elgin, was egregiously late.
But Ed got even by ensuring that she got it in the end.
Fetching Felicia farted out Frank’s filmy fluid into a four-fifths-full firkin.
“What the fuck is a firkin?” Frank fidgeted.
“Go find it in your friggin’ Funk and Wagnall’s,” Felicia feinted.
Gwendolyn gladly gulped the girl-come that gushed from Gail’s gaping, glistening gash.
“Goddamn,” Gwen gasped, with a giggle. “There’s got to be a gallon of the goo!”
“More gargling and less griping,” Gail groaned through an orgasmic grimace.
Hayley held onto Henry’s huge hard-on as he hurried up Hamburger Hill in a Humvee.
“Holy Hannah,” she hysterically hollered. “If I weren’t so horny and hungry, that helicopter harrying us with a hail of bullets would be giving me the heebie-jeebies!”
“Ha-ha! Have a hot meal, honey,” Henry hooted, taking a handful of her hair and hunching his hump-stick toward her head.
Irene’s idea of an illicit indulgence was to impersonate an illegal immigrant, get herself incarcerated, and receive hot beef injections from intoxicated insurgents intercepted by Interpol.
It seemed idiotic to most of her irritated intimates, but it satisfied her itch for foreign intrigue.
Jim’s jism jetted against Jasmine’s jaw, jewelry and jacket.
“Jesus,” Jim ejaculated. “You just hit the jackpot!”
“Next time, jerk, let’s not do this in a jeep that’s jumping jaguars in the jungle,” Jasmine jabbed, as her jutting jugs jiggled jubiliantly closer to his jackhammer.
Kirsten of Kent got her kicks from dropping her knickers for knockabouts and knaves who were keen on kissing her kitty and kneading her knockers. Lord Kendrick tried keeping them away by locking her in his castle’s kitchen and throwing away the key.
A passing knight with a neglected knob put the kibosh on that plan by knifing the guards, kicking in the door, and kidnaping Kirsten to a Kenya-bound ketch.
Larry liked to lick the labia of long-legged Louisiana lovelies like Loretta. “Lie back and let me lap you” was his most reliably lascivious line.
All of the lissome ladies he landed that way thought he was a legendary lover. But actually the big lug was merely compensating for being a lousy lay.
Mandy’s most memorable make-out session was with Monica in a Maui mudbath. The two mischievous minxes massaged each other’s mammaries and mouthed each other’s mounds, moaning and mewling like misbegotten meerkats.
“Man, that was magnificent,” Mandy mentioned. “My manhole wants more!”
“My pleasure,” Monica muttered, masterfully manipulating Mandy’s mesmerizing muffin.
Nathan knew his natty Nehru jacket and “Nixon Now” pin would net him much notice at the Nob Hill costume party. Another newcomer wore a naughty negligee. The nasty yet naive nymph looked ripe for nailing.
Nathan nudged her upstairs and got her naked. He nuzzled his way from her neck to her navel and her nether regions. But before he could negotiate his nightstick into her nookie notch, she nattered, “No way! Never!”
To which Nathan said, “Nuts!”
Olivia’s three orifices were filled with the onrushing organs of Oscar, Otto and Omerta, an oaf from overseas. “Oh! Oh!” the oiled odalisque intoned. “Is it obvious that I am oddly obsessed with acting obscene?”
Omerta, being obnoxious, began playing the overture from “Oliver!” on an old ocarina while overstretching Olivia’s O-ring until she got off.
Paulina wanted to put her pretty pussy on pay-per-view, so pud-pullers from Portland to Panama City could pleasure themselves to pornographic pictures of her pubis. Perhaps her plan would have paid off, if Pluto had not picked that precise moment to plunge into the Pacific, pulling the plug on all programming permanently.
Queen Quinilla’s queefs smelled like spicy quesadillas, according to those in certain quarters. She quickly quieted those quips by unloosing a quiver of quills at the more querulous, causing the rest to quail and quake.
Riding the range on a red roan could be rough on a girl’s rump, Roxette realized. Especially since getting rogered by four ranchhands the night before had left her rectum rather relaxed.
“Rookie?” ribbed the foreman, remarking on her riding.
“No. Raw hide,” Roxette replied.
Six of the seven samurai lay slain on the southern steppes. The sole survivor skulked from the scene, back to the sweet-faced Szechuan slut who shared his sleeping mat. After she sucked his staff and he spurted his seed inside her smooth-shaven sex, he shamefully described his sorry soldiering.
“Sounds to me like you’re sort of spineless,” she said.
“No shit!” he shouted.
Tour-guide tart Teresa teased Tad and Trip with her titanic tits and tuna-scented twat before a torchlit tapestry in Tutankhamen’s tomb. “Take me in two holes,” she taunted, tugging their tumescent tools.
Tad took her tiny tailhole for his target. Trip got on top and tapped her tight twat with his ten inches. The three of them made a thrillingly taboo tableau as they tangled in a tawdry tarantella among the three-thousand-year-old treasures.
Teresa, the talented trollop, tickled Tad’s throbbing testicles and tweaked Trip’s thick, thrusting truncheon to trigger a tandem moment of truth. Their tallywhackers twitched. Tad tainted her turd-tunnel with a torrent of tapioca. Trip tongued her teat tips and torpedoed her trim with tempera.
“Thanks,” Teresa told them, stretching like a tawny temple tabby. “That was so thrilling it almost took my mind off the terrible truth that we’ve been trapped here since last Tuesday!”
Ursula upped the ante by unfastening Ulric’s trousers, dropping her undies, and offering him her umber anus. For lubrication, Ulric applied some unguent to his uncoiled Ur-staff before lunging at that unclenched opening.
Unbeknownst to the unaware U-boat captain, Ursula had an ulterior motive. She was an undercover USSR agent from Uzbek. As she uninhibitedly urged him to clutch at her udders while humping her rump, he unwittingly unburdened himself of much useful information.
When he unattached himself from her rectum and unloaded all over the ultramodern upholstery, Ursula grabbed an Uzi.
“Unsatisfied?” the captain unctuously inquired.
“Up yours!” she replied, undoing the safety.
Vagrants, vagabonds and vandals all ventured to Virginia to inveigle their way into voluptuous Valerie’s voracious vagina. That velvety vault had been called a virtual vulval Valhalla, a voracious valentine that was almost never vacant.
But the varlets who vaulted into her valley of Venus felt vaguely vexed when the devilish vixen used voodoo to cast them into the void.
Winona wanted Wayne’s wang in the worst way. She was aware that the wizened wagonmaster was a wanton ne’er-do-well. But this far west in the wild, any wastrel with a working weiner was welcome.
“Wing me a wad,” she wailed, wriggling out of her widow’s weeds.
“No way, you worthless whore,” Wayne whooped. “I only have enough wherewithal to wet my whistle, not wax my wick.” With that, he walked downwind.
“I don’t want your wallet,” Winona whined, “I just want your willy!”
“Well…” Wayne waffled. “Would a wrinkled wart or two worry you?”
“Why me?” Winona whimpered.
Xenia hated her ridiculous name almost as much as she hated xylophone practice. But her dream of becoming an X-rated actress and living in a Mexican-decor Xanadu had not panned out as expected, thanks to her extreme xenophobia and her less-than-buxom bustline. Not to mention the exciting ex-boyfriend with the extremely exemplary extraterrestrial in his trousers who went off on a sexual extravaganza leaving Xenia to experiment with her own extremities.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Yvonne yearningly yelped from the yellow deck of the yacht. “Fill my yoni with your yummy yogurt!”
“You got it!” Yves yelled, ramming his yam into her yeasty yurt. It felt a yard long to his young, yoga-trained lover.
“You come?” Yves asked afterward.
“Yep,” she yipped. “But I’ve got a yen to do it again!”
“Zounds!” zany Zoe exclaimed, zealously unzipping to free her bazooms aboard a New Zealand-bound zeppelin. “Zis dizguzting article finally haz zigged and zagged itz ztupid way to zee end! Zut alorz!”
St. James Place scribe Dawson can be contacted at stjamesdawson.com
You remember the first time it happened. You were in the missionary position, pumping away. Her tongue was in your mouth, her stiff nipples were poking your chest and her little moaning sounds were making your dick harder with every thrust. You thought things couldn’t possibly get better. Then she introduced something totally new and wonderfully unexpected.
One of her hands moved down your back. And then, as if it was completely normal, as if it was something any girl would do, she casually slipped her middle finger right up your ass. Your eyes popped open. Your sphincter involuntarily contracted, squeezing down tight. You were too stunned to speak. The feeling was so strange, so wrong, and yet so incredibly hot that all you could think was, “What the hell was that?”
A hurricane of conflicting thoughts whirled through your brain. Would she think you were gay for liking what she had done? After all, what self-respecting, straight-arrow stud would enjoy having something long and stiff rammed up his ass?
Then again, she was the one who instigated this deliciously unnatural act, which meant she must have expected you to like it. She may even have done it to other guys. If any of them had told her to stop, she surely would have dropped fart-flue fingering from her sexual repertoire. That made it okay to admit it felt good. Right?
And man, did it ever feel good. First, there was the incredible physical sensation. You never knew you had so many sensitive nerve endings back there, just waiting to be stimulated. And then there was the psychological component.
This naughty girl with her digit in your dumper suddenly seemed a lot more worldly, exotic and sophisticated than the sexy little fuck-bunny you thought you knew.
She looked up at you with half-closed eyes and asked, “Do you like that?” Then she slid her finger even deeper.
That’s when you shot off everything you had. Afterward, you felt a little bit weirded out. But not too weirded out to make her stop the next time she let her finger do the walking.
The “unexpected anal probe” is probably the most common “What the hell was that?” moment for both men and women. But lots of other things can inspire the same disconcerted yet delighted reaction. Here are a few that are sure to bring pleasant memories to mind . . . or inspire some overdue explorations.
AND YOU THOUGHT THEY WERE JUST FOR SHOW
Bernie is a twenty-seven-year-old sales exec whose eyes light up when he hears the topic of this column. “I definitely know the first thing that comes to mind for me,” he says.
“I took a senior trip to the Bahamas with a bunch of high school classmates. All of us were over eighteen, and I had been dating one chick pretty steadily. But another girl, Roxy, was always slutting it up around me. I think half the reason she wanted to fuck me was because it would piss off my girlfriend. The two of them kind of hated each other.
“Long story short, my girlfriend was playing in a beach volleyball match when Roxy caught my attention from behind a palm tree. When I looked in her direction, she flipped open the towel around her middle.
“I popped an instant boner. Roxy was wearing a skimpy black bikini top that barely covered her high-riding tits, but she was completely naked below the waist. Her pubic hair was shaved way back, so I could see the split between her beautiful cunt lips and even the bud of her clit.
“When she was sure I had gotten the full effect, she whipped the towel closed again and headed into the trees.
“Okay, I’m a shit, but cheering for my girlfriend’s volleyball team suddenly became very low-priority. I sprinted after Roxy. When I caught her, I finger-fucked her pretty pussy while we made out against a tree. She got my dick out of my trunks and started tugging on it.
“When she began kissing her way down my neck, I thought she was on her way to giving me a stand-up blowjob. But then she took an unexpected side trip. She started sucking and nibbling one of my nipples.
“I had only fucked one other girl besides my girlfriend at the time, and neither of them had done anything like that. But Roxy was lapping and licking my nips the same way a guy would suck a girl’s boobs. And it was making me so hot I was ready to explode.
“I leaned back against the tree and said, ‘Fuck, that feels sweet.’ Roxy kept pulling my prick while she tongued my unbelievably stiff nipples. I started coming, squirting onto her bare leg.
“That’s when I heard my girlfriend calling my name from the beach. Roxy looked up at me like a cat. She said, ‘Which one of us gets to tell her?’
“At that point, I figured she had won me fair and square. I’ve had plenty of girls since then who liked to lick my nipples in bed. But that first time is one I’ll never forget. I didn’t know what the hell was happening, but Roxy sure did one hell of a good job!”
SOMETIMES THE NOSE KNOWS ABOUT MORE THAN JUST WINE
Terry, a San Francisco grad student, looks slightly embarrassed as he relates his story. “I took this incredibly pretty girl named Denise on a Saturday trip to the Napa Valley when I was twenty. We had dated a couple of times, and I thought I had a good shot at getting her in bed if I wined and dined her a little. Literally, in this case.
“We did the tasting thing at a commercial winery, getting instructions from the guide on how to judge bouquet and color and all that. The whole time, all I could think about was how much I wanted to taste what was between Denise’s legs. I’ve always been totally into eating pussy.
“Licking a girl until she comes is right up there with fucking, in my book. I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on Denise’s cunt.
“When we were back in my car, I said, ‘How about if we get a room at some little bed-and-breakfast? I’ve heard there are some great ones around here.’ I’m not normally that direct, but maybe it was a side effect of the alcohol.
“She surprised me by saying, ‘I wondered how long it would take you to ask. I was starting to think you didn’t like me.’ Cut to the two of us making out on a four-poster bed, me groping her tits, her rubbing my dick through my pants. I reached for her belt. ‘I have just got to eat your pussy,’ I said, unzipping her jeans. ‘Just lie back and enjoy.’
“She nestled against the pillows with her arms behind her head. I worked her tight jeans and panties down her hips. I smelled her beautiful, neatly trimmed pussy before I saw it.
“And when I say I smelled it, I mean I really smelled it. I was so stunned that tears welled up in my eyes. This definitely was not a bad thing.
“I was used to eating pussies that were slightly musky or fishy, or had no scent at all. But Denise’s cunt had an aroma that was so strong and sharp it filled my whole head. It was like a spicy, mouth-watering, well-aged cheese. I loved that powerful smell so much that I actually closed my eyes and breathed it in deep before I put my tongue in her groove.
“Denise squirmed in pleasure while I licked and sucked her irresistibly smelly sex. ‘Jesus,’ she said, ‘no guy ever ate me as good as this! Oh my God, don’t stop, don’t ever stop!’ Apparently none of her previous boyfriends had appreciated her intoxicating scent.
“I must have lapped her ripe pussy for an hour. By then, she was so worked up that she practically begged me to fuck her.
“I couldn’t get enough of her after that. Before she transferred to an out-of-state school, she presented me with a pair of her used panties to remember her by. That’s what I call the gift that keeps on giving!”
I WOKE UP IN MORE THAN LOVE THIS MORNING
Danny is a twenty-six-year-old systems analyst who is calling from his office and is pressed for time.
“Short and sweet,” he says, “the best sex surprise I ever got happened when I was sleeping. A girl I had brought home the night before decided to suck me off at four in the morning, when I was out like a light.
“Let me tell you, it is one weird, wild feeling to wake up with your dick in a girl’s mouth. At first, I didn’t even remember who she was. The room was pitch black. She was under the covers, cupping my balls with one hand and gripping the base of my prick with the other. Her mouth was so warm and wet around my cockhead that it felt like a pussy with a tongue.
“When I came, she swallowed every spurt and kept sucking for more. Then she told me, ‘I reached over and felt how hard you were, and I couldn’t help myself. I hope you don’t mind.’ As if any man alive would mind that!
“Hey, listen, I’ve got to go now. I’m at work, and just thinking about that girl has made my dick so hard I can’t get up from behind this desk!”
HEY, THAT’S NOT MY . . . OH, WAIT, NEVER MIND
Evie is a twenty-six-year-old journalist with a flip, know-it-all attitude, but she is cute and sexy enough to get away with acting like a princess. Although she currently is juggling three boyfriends, she claims to have been a “know-nothing innocent” about sex until she was nineteen.
“I was raised in a Catholic boarding school,” she says. “Totally conservative, no sex ed, no boys. I didn’t even know what I was missing.
“That changed when I got to college. I went on a date with a guy who took me back to his dorm, where we got into a heavy makeout session. When he slipped his hand in my blouse, I suddenly felt warm and wet between my legs. I never even had seen a guy’s cock in real life, but I knew that I wanted his inside me ASAP.
“He moved his hand under my skirt and up my inner thigh. When he cupped my pussy, he could feel how damp my panties were. He rubbed a finger up and down, pushing the material between my lips.
“I put my mouth close to his ear and said, ‘I want to do it.’ The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was a shy, inexperienced virgin.
“He pushed my skirt around my waist. I lifted my butt from the mattress of his single bed so he could tug my panties off. I felt so breathless about letting a boy see my cunnie for the first time that I know I was blushing.
“He stared at my moist pussy. I thought he would take off his own pants then, so he could fuck me.
“Instead, he knelt beside the bed, pushed up my knees, and covered my cherry pussy with his mouth.
“I swear to God, I was so innocent that I almost said, ‘Hey, that’s not my face!’ I know it sounds hard to believe, but oral sex was something that seemed totally alien and strange. I knew the basics about putting a penis in a vagina. But I was totally taken by surprise at the thought that a guy would want to put his mouth on my pussy.
“I was about to push him away. I stopped when I realized that what he was doing felt absolutely great! God, I still get goose pimples thinking about that first time. He held the lips of my cunnie apart, fucking his tongue in and out. But what I liked even more was when he concentrated on my clit.
“I thought that I had orgasmed before that night. I used to rub my mound before I went to sleep sometimes. It felt really good, so I thought that was all there was to a climax.
“But what Jerry was doing made me realize how wrong I had been. I suddenly felt as if my whole body was electric and alive. I heard myself moaning with pleasure, then I had a total meltdown! I was squeezing Jerry’s head with my thighs and bucking like a bronco. When it was over, I felt like I had died of pleasure.
“I didn’t say, ‘What the hell was that?’ But I definitely felt like I had left this world and gone to a place that was a whole lot hotter!”
James Dawson can be contacted at www.stjamesdawson.com
Every guy who pops up so to speak in magazines like Penthouse Letters invariably has a cock that’s as big and thick and wide as a Hickory Farms beef stick. The naked sluts who suck and straddle those monstrous pants poles worship them like they’re fat-knobbed idols, straining to get their red mouths and pink twats around all of that magnificent, manly meat.
But not every average Joe has the Johnny Wadd genital gene. Quite a few undersized unfortunates don’t even measure up to average. Recently, we heard from several shrimp-dicks whose equipment is more peanut than penis. Some of those wee-willie wankers wanted equal time. Others wrote out of a strange compulsion to “share” their experiences with us. Some of them called us “a bunch of size queens.”
Most of those letters got little more than laughter out of us. But a few letters elicited a completely unexpected reaction. They shocked us. They stunned us. They made us pull out our own cocks and wonder if everything we knew was wrong.
While not completely representative of the letters we received, what follows are the kinds of letters we wish that we had received–stories from that shriveled-schlong-sporting substrata of our citizenry that we have cruelly and capriciously chosen to call . . . the Teenie Weenies!
Marty is a good-looking twenty-four-year-old drywall hanger with a buzz cut and a muscular physique. “I was miserable in high school because my dick never went through a ‘growth spurt’ like the rest of me,” he confesses. “The idea of asking a girl out terrified me. What if things got romantic and she reached inside my pants? I pictured her fishing around, wondering where the hell my cock could be.
“Eventually,” he continues, “a rich girl named Vicki and I started hitting it off. When she asked me to her parents’ house to go swimming, I said okay. Vicki had told me her father was the overprotective type. He was instantly suspicious and hostile when he met me, obviously thinking that I wanted to screw Vicki’s brains out the minute he turned his back on us.
“Vicki showed me to a bathhouse beside their backyard pool. She went into one changing room and I went into another. I slipped off my clothes and stared at my pathetic peter. It looked like an elevator button with a piss hole. How the hell could I ever impress Vicki, or any other girl for that matter, with something that small?
“The door opened suddenly. It was Vicki’s father, looking like he planned on telling me a thing or two about treating Vicki like a lady. But nothing came out of his mouth. He was staring at my miniature mushroom dick. He started to say something, put his hand over his mouth, said nothing and turned away. All of a sudden, I knew how George Costanza felt on that episode of Seinfeld. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to blame my shortcoming on shrinkage.
“Her dad said he had planned on joining us in the pool, but that now he’d changed his mind. ‘You two kids have fun out there. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ he said, closing the door behind him and shaking his head.
“Now that he had seen my naked dick, the miserable old fucker apparently didn’t regard me as a threat anymore. But that had a funny effect on me. I saw that this could be the opportunity of a lifetime.
“I pulled on my trunks and joined Vicki poolside. She looked absolutely fucking fantastic, in a blue one-piece suit that was so clingy I could make out her puffy nipples and the split of her pussy lips. The back of the suit hugged the cheeks of her ass and went deep in her crack. I felt my excuse for a cock getting hard.
“Vicki was surprised that her father wasn’t around. She shaded her eyes and looked in the direction of her parents’ mansion, which was off behind a tall hedge.
“‘He usually watches guys like a hawk,’ she said. ‘Maybe he thinks you’re too much of a gentleman to try anything.’ As she said that, she ran a fingertip across my bare chest, stopping on my left nipple. She circled it with her nail, turning me on so much I thought I’d come in my trunks.
“I found the courage to say, ‘Since he’s not around, how about we get to know each other better?’
“Vicki took my hand and practically dragged me inside one of the changing rooms. She’d been kept on a short leash all her life and apparently wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity to be bad.
“We started making out, running our hands all over each other. I rubbed my middle finger up and down her crack, feeling the heat of her asshole. I moved my hand down to cup her cunt. She shuddered and let out a sigh.
“One of her hands went into the waistband of my trunks. She reached deep, then deeper, searching. My tongue was practically down her throat. I would have given anything at that moment to have a normal-size dick. Or even one that was half normal-size.
“When her fingers found my penis,
I thought she’d be disappointed. Instead, she kissed me even more passionately. She held it between her thumb and forefinger and said, ‘I want to suck it.’
“She sat on a built-in bench and tugged down my trunks. That was it, the moment of truth, her first actual glimpse of my tiny tool. I watched her face expecting the worst, but she never missed a beat. She leaned forward and put her mouth over it, easily covering its length.
“At first, I wondered if maybe she had never seen an erection before and didn’t know that mine was small. Then she said something to make me realize that wasn’t the case.
“‘Your little dick tastes so good,’ she sighed, licking and kissing the head. ‘It’s so cute and sweet.’ Then she started addressing my cock directly. ‘You’re not going to stretch me all out and make me a loose, sloppy slut, are you? No, no! You’re just going to fuck me nice and gently. I can tell.’
“It was too good to be true, even if she did sound a little wacko. She tugged the narrow crotch of her swimsuit aside, baring her pussy. Its thick lips were lightly furred with dark-brown curls. Her tender pink clit protruded from the cleft of her quim.
I leaned over her body and found the groove of her cunt with my cock. I was barely long enough to get inside her opening, so I pumped her hot pussy with short, shallow strokes. She tugged the scoop neck of her swimsuit down to free one of her big tits. The nipple was an inch long and very stiff. She tweaked it, kneading it back and forth. I bent over and sucked on it while I fucked her.
“Vicki held my hips tightly when she came, so her bucking wouldn’t dislodge my small cock from her creamy opening. I pulled out when I was ready to shoot. Vicki watched me spurt all over her swimsuit. ‘Jesus, look at all that come from that little dick!’ she said, giggling. I didn’t care.
“Since then, I’ve met a lot of other girls like Vicki. They don’t mind that I have a puny pud, and in fact they actually seem to prefer that I have a little one. So I guess the point of my story is that size actually does matter to some women . . . but not in the way most guys think!”
Stan, a twenty-four-year-old sales executive, has a wicked weight problem and a winkie-sized wang. “Sure, I’ve got a beer belly,” he admits. “You would drink a lot of brew too, if you had a bottle-cap-size dick like mine.”
Still, he reveals that the combination of a huge gut and a runt dick can offer unexpected advantages. “First off, girls have to get real close to my crotch to suck my puny peter. That means my big belly ends up hiding their entire heads. A guy like me obviously doesn’t attract any decent-looking females, but when I’m getting blown, I can pretend it’s a fucking supermodel down there!
“Here’s another good thing about not being able to see what’s going on down south. A blowjob probably feels just as good to any man alive, no matter what kind of prick he’s packing. As long as I can’t see any different, I can imagine my pinkie-dick is a foot-long monster. Hell, I can dream, can’t I?
“The same thing goes for screwing. There’s no way in hell that I can see my nothin’ of a nubbin when I’m humpin’ a girl’s oven. So as long as she doesn’t call me names or ask if it’s in, I can pretend I’m giving her twelve inches instead of two.”
Stan lets out a loud belch and scratches himself. “They say ninety percent of sex for everybody is in the brain,” he sums up. “Maybe I push that figure up to around ninety-eight percent, but it works for me!”
Barry, a stock trader, says he was taunted about his manhood even after he made it onto his college football squad. “Guys in the locker room would call me a flat-chested girl with a big clit,” he says. “A linebacker named Roy was the biggest dick of them all, in both senses of the term. He always was giving me hell, and the bastard had a horse-cock that was nine inches long when it was soft. I got even with that asshole, though,” Barry reports with a self-satisfied grin. “Or maybe I should say I got even through his girlfriend’s asshole.
“Roy always bragged to the other guys about leaving Marie bow-legged after they fucked. But when somebody asked him if Marie ever let him go ‘around back,’ Barry got defensive. ‘She won’t let me anywhere near her butt,’ he said. ‘She’s afraid she might have to wear Depends the rest of her life if I ever stick my donkey dick up her asshole!’
“I’ll skip the boring details about how I started getting friendly with Marie behind Roy’s back. Very friendly. When I said I wanted to go to bed with her, she said she couldn’t be unfaithful to Roy. I replied, ‘How about if we only did something that you and Roy don’t do? That wouldn’t be cheating, would it?’
“I knew she would go for the bait. A friend who lived in her dorm had let me in on the details of a certain late-night girl talk. It turns out Marie was extremely curious about anal sex and felt like she was missing out on something good.
“Marie looked coy. ‘Well, there is one thing I can think of,’ she told me, sitting on her bed. ‘But I’ve always been afraid it might hurt.’
“That was my cue. I quickly undid my pants. I pushed them and my shorts down. Then I put my hands on my hips and said, ‘Still worried?’
“Her eyes went wide. Even fully erect, my cock was only about the size of a pen cap.
“‘Oh God, that’ll be perfect!’ she said. She surprised me by leaning forward and sucking my midget meat, really slurping the thing.
“I put my hands in her hair. ‘I’m going to fuck you in the ass so good you’ll love every second,’ I said. ‘First I’m going to lick your asshole until you squirm, then I’m going to slip my dick inside. You want that, don’t you?’
“She nodded yes and started peeling off her clothes. She got on all fours in her single bed, with her perfect ass stuck up high. Her anus was a puckered pink starfish that I speared with my tongue, making her groan with pleasure. Then I got in position and slipped my mini-dick in her hot hole.
“‘Yes, yes, I’m finally getting fucked in the ass!’ Marie moaned. I think she liked the idea of doing it as much as she enjoyed the act itself. That was okay with me. All I cared about was that I was boning a hole so small, it even felt tight around a nipple-prick like mine!
“Word later got around campus. I became real damned popular with girls who wanted to get ass-fucked and still be able to sit down the next day. You might say that I was really in the hole–and loving it!”
So there you have it. And what is the “terrible truth” about guys with teenie weenies? That all of us with average-sized or bigger cocks might just be too damned big for our own good!
Author James Dawson can be contacted by e-mail through his website, stjamesdawson.com.
Calmly perusing the newspaper one bright morning, I came across something that made me clench my fists, leap to my feet and shout, “You goddamned stupid motherfucking son of a bitch!” I upset the table in a rage, veins bulging from my neck and arms, and began punching head-size holes in
the kitchen walls. Neighborhood dogs howled in harmony with my hellacious, hot-headed hollering, and sirens started screaming in the streets.
So what inspired that maniacally destructive rage? Once again, some careless writer had employed the word “bemused” as if it were a synonym for “amused.” Idiot! Moron! Retarded cocksucking shithead! What the fuck has happened to people’s vocabularies lately, anyway?
As I boarded up my broken windows, I realized that what the world needs is a new kind of vocabulary course. Forget “word a day” calendars and “It Pays
to Increase Your Word Power” columns in old-fart magazines. Today’s readers need a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down.
Make that a “poon” full of sugar.
Don’t bother taking notes during the following lesson. You probably will have better things to do with your free hand.
• • •
Word One: “Bemused”
EXAMPLE OF PROPER USAGE:
Francesca could feel her G-string panties sticking to the cleft of her hot, creaming crotch. Her pussy’s juices had started oozing from between her cunt lips the instant she made eye contact with the stranger across the crowded bar. Damn, he was good-looking.
The stranger approached Francesca. His hair was stylishly shaggy, he had a sensuously wide mouth, and his dark eyes seemed to gaze right into her soul. She wanted to kneel in front of him, unzip his pleated pants, and suck his cock right there in front of everyone.
He introduced himself as Sam, in a breathy voice that made Francesca shiver. She knew there was no point in playing coy or hard to get. Her stiff nipples were poking out like miniature traffic cones from her big tits. Her pupils were dilated with lust. And anyone within ten paces could smell her pussy’s musky scent.
They hurried outside and found his car, a big Lexus with leather upholstery. Francesca had not gotten laid in a back seat since high school. But there was no way she could wait until the two of them got back to his place. She needed to get fucked as soon as possible, right away, right goddamned NOW.
She let Sam take the lead. He ripped off two of her buttons in his haste to
get her blouse open. Francesca didn’t mind. He unsnapped the front clasp of her bra to free her firm tits. He squeezed her bare breasts as he sucked one stiff nipple and then the other.
One of Sam’s hands slipped under Francesca’s skirt, tugging aside her
sodden panties. He worked two fingers inside her slippery snatch, probing deep.
Francesca groaned with pleasure. She reached for Sam’s belt, then his zipper. Her tongue was in his mouth as she slipped her hand down across his smooth belly. No underwear. She liked that. Then she realized there was no something else.
Sam did not have a cock. Sam, in fact, had a pussy.
Francesca looked into Sam’s eyes. “I must say, I find myself rather bemused by this situation,” she intoned. “As in bewildered, perplexed and confused.”
“Oh, stop being such a smartypants,” Sam replied. “Just go ahead and eat me, since you’re already down there.”
Francesca briefly considered this, shrugged, and ducked her head between Sam’s slender thighs.
• • •
Word Two: “Penultimate”
EXAMPLE OF PROPER USAGE:
Most of the mourners were red-faced with embarrassment. The bespectacled attorney, looking equally ill at ease behind his oak desk, briefly put down the pages of the will.
“As I mentioned at the outset,” he apologetically told the seven survivors, “one of Mr. Radleigh’s stipulations was that I must read his last testament aloud. Otherwise, I assure you that I never would utter such crude language in the presence of–”
“Just get the fuck on with it,” snapped Radleigh’s twenty-two-year-old widow Jessica, who had been the deceased’s fourth and final wife. Like everyone else in the room, she was dressed in black. But the low-cut neckline and slit sides of her skintight minidress made her look more like a horny goth-girl hooker than a grieving spouse.
Jessica knew that Oliver Radleigh’s kin regarded her as a despicable, conniving slut. Screw all of them. Jessica figured that after eight months of letting Radleigh paw her D-cup tits and slobber on her pierced cunt and stick his scrawny dick up her sweet ass, she was more than entitled to a generous share of his estate. She had earned it.
“Very well,” the attorney said, adjusting his bifocals. He found where he had left off and resumed reading. “‘My shithead brother and his cunt wife, my two ungrateful bastard sons and my nasty bitch of a daughter are to receive amounts equal to the amount of happiness they provided me during my lifetime. In other words, they will get absolutely nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. And now, on to my wife Jessica.’”
Jessica sat up a little straighter in her wooden chair. The way she threw back her shoulders made her tanned bustline look huge. She knew that Radleigh’s relatives could see her plump nipples poking out. Take a good look, you pathetic losers, she thought.
The attorney’s voice grew thicker. “‘You, my dear, were the penultimate fuck of my life.’”
That sounded good to Jessica. She allowed herself a smug smile. Knowing that Radleigh had considered her to be the best fuck of his long life felt like a real accomplishment. He had screwed movie stars, models, beauty-pageant winners and God knows how many high-dollar call girls in his day. Maybe Jessica was going to end up with every penny of the old fart’s fortune!
The attorney continued reading. “‘Because you also were a bit of a dim-witted dunce, dear Jessica, I should explain that “penultimate” does not mean “ultimate.” It means “next to last.” Unfortunately for you, the last woman who shared my bed, Brandy Sandridge, is the one to whom I will be leaving my entire estate. So suck on that, you sleazy, gold-digging bitch.’”
A barely-out-of-her-teens blonde who’d been sitting quietly near the window–squealed with delight. Jessica had assumed that the girl was some long-lost niece or granddaughter. Now she knew better.
Deciding to make the best of a bad situation, Jessica nudged one of Radleigh’s fat, balding sons. “Listen, you want some head for ten bucks in the hall?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure,” he said without changing expression. They left the room arm in arm. With any luck, Jessica thought, this would be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Word Three: “Noisome”
EXAMPLE OF PROPER USAGE:
It had been tough for DeeDee to keep up the “pure and innocent” act over the past several months. She had been one of the biggest sluts on campus during her first two and a half years of college. During that time, she had sucked and fucked fellow students, professors, townies, her sorority sisters’ boyfriends, a pair of auto mechanics when her VW Rabbit broke down, and even a few of her roommates’ dads.
She couldn’t help herself. She loved sex. She loved sucking big, hard dicks. She loved feeling them plunge in and out of her silky pussy. She loved having her nipples tweaked and her asshole reamed and her clit nibbled. She enjoyed being a girl.
But halfway through her junior year, DeeDee had met Harve. His family was deliciously, fabulously rich. That made him just about the most attractive
guy that middle-class, social-climbing DeeDee ever had met. She latched onto him like a barnacle on a yacht.
Miraculously, Harve was completely unaware of DeeDee’s slutty past. That was a good thing, considering that Harve was a total prude. When he finally made his move on DeeDee after weeks of dating, he only wanted
missionary-position, lights-out sex. DeeDee nearly scared him off when she began writhing and groaning and rubbing her crotch during that first quick fuck. She got the message that Harve expected her to be meek and quiet in the sack.
That role had been a bitch for DeeDee to play. She wanted to moan and cry out and scream in bed, the way she had done with all of her previous lovers. It was hard enough staying faithful to ho-hum Harve in the first place. Not being able to slut it up and get herself off while he was on top of her made a bad situation even worse.
Finally, however, all of her restraint and decorum paid off. At the beginning of their senior year, Harve asked DeeDee to marry him. He was so cunt-struck by then that he wanted the wedding to take place on the Sunday of Homecoming Weekend, in the campus chapel.
Homecoming Weekend was special to DeeDee, but not for any reason she could share with Harve. During her first three years at college, she had gone completely wild during those festivities. Her sorority house traditionally turned into “orgy central” at that time, with each girl taking on as many guys as she could handle. As a sophomore, DeeDee had managed to win the house’s “Pussy Princess” prize, awarded to the girl who managed to get nailed the most times between Friday and Sunday.
This was the last year she would have a chance to win back that coveted title. DeeDee decided that she had been Harve’s good little “born-again virgin” long enough. She told herself that she deserved one last single-girl fling before becoming a married woman. Her wedding was scheduled for eight o’clock Sunday night. That meant she could spend every hour leading up to the event getting laid. She could take back her crown!
She told Harve that she wanted to stay in seclusion all weekend, because she was not supposed to see him for that long until the ceremony. The gullible dipshit bought it. Since DeeDee’s mother was in jail for bouncing checks and her dad had run off when she was seven, none of her family was in town expecting to see her. She was free to scratch her itch undisturbed for forty-eight hours straight.
The entire home team showed up Friday night. DeeDee felt as if she had died and gone to horny-girl heaven as she took on one beautiful stiff cock after another. She rocked back and forth between a quarterback fucking her doggie-style and a wide receiver whose oversize dick was down her throat. She sucked off two tight ends, alternately swallowing both of their delicious pricks while she happily sat on a placekicker’s veiny cock.
A few of her sorority sisters actually applauded when she took on five guys at once. She had a dick in each hand, one in her mouth, one sliding in and out of her pussy and another crammed up her ass. She was living every girl’s dream.
The men kept coming all through the weekend. Word had gotten around campus that DeeDee was back in action. Old boyfriends, tenured professors, complete strangers, even members of the rival football team appeared at her bed with their throbbing dicks in their hands. DeeDee was too excited to take a break. She told herself that she could sleep after she was married.
At seven-thirty on Sunday night, her sisters barely had time to help her out of bed and into her wedding gown. At eight, she walked slightly bow-legged and dazed down the aisle of the chapel. She ignored Harve’s look of distaste and concern, and somehow made it through her vows.
In the limo to the reception, Harve turned to her. “DeeDee, I must say that I found you quite noisome during the ceremony.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” DeeDee indignantly replied. “I kept my voice down. I wasn’t loud at all!”
“No, darling. ‘Noisome’ has nothing to do with sound. It means offensively noxious and malodorous.” Harve sniffed at the air in the limo’s close confines. “Frankly, you smell as if you just had sex with a hundred men!”
“A hundred and seventeen to be exact,” DeeDee said. She quickly added, “Oops.”
DeeDee was not at all bemused about why Harve abruptly abandoned her at the next intersection. But his announcement that he wanted an immediate annulment was only the penultimate humiliation she would face that night. When she stumbled back inside her sorority house, she discovered that her old rival Stacy had bedded one hundred eighteen guys and held onto the weekend’s “Pussy Princess” title.
“Y’know, life can be pretty damned noisome sometimes,” quoth DeeDee, older but somewhat wiser.