They’re small, cute, exotic and incredibly responsive. They elicit curious, lustful, intrigued and admiring stares wherever they go. And if you ever get inside one, you never will want to get out.
No, not a chili red six-speed Mini Cooper S. We’re talking about beautiful, sexy, full-grown women who happen to top out at less than five feet tall.
The little ladies in question are perfectly formed, but on a smaller scale than their statuesque sisters. They aren’t Asian, so they don’t have a genetic predisposition to petiteness. And don’t dare call them midgets or dwarfs, or these feisty female firecrackers might explode in outrage and kick you in an unguarded ankle.
These are girls who have to show ID at every bar and club, no matter how big their tits are. They fuck like supercharged little rabbits, but afterward they can’t get ice cream out of the freezer for a midnight snack without climbing on a step-stool. And they sit on one leg at the movies to see over the dickhead in front of them while using a free hand to play with the dickhead in your pants.
They may be undersized, but almost all of them are oversexed. Maybe that’s because they have a Napoleon complex or is it a Josephine jones? that makes them think they have to prove themselves. Maybe powerful female hormones crammed into so small a body kick in harder and stronger when one of these chicklets gets horny. Or maybe being little enough to shop in the Girls department makes these living dolls try to overcompensate for their tininess by acting like colossal sluts.
As you’ll see from the “short” stories below, good things come in small packages . . . and so do guys who are lucky enough to pork these precious, prick-pleasing pixies!
TINY HEINIE PUTS SQUEEZE ON BUTT-BANGING BIG-MOUTH
“One of the main things I really love about buttfucking is seeing my hard dick stretch a girl’s asshole to its limits,” says Vince. “That sight is a mindblower even when the girl on the receiving end is normal sized. Holding her cheeks apart with both hands and watching my stiff cock plow her shitter is almost as exciting as the incredible feeling of sliding in and out of that tight, throbbing hole.
“When the babe on all fours with her butt in the air is a shorty, that sight is even nastier. Meaning it’s a hell of a lot hotter, in other words.
“I should mention that I’m a big guy, almost six-four and upwards of 225 pounds. You might think girls under five feet tall would be intimidated by a husky dude like me. Exactly the opposite is true. I think they regard men my size as a challenge.
“The latest example I found of a girl whose appetite was bigger than the rest of her was Josie. I was parked on a steel girder two stories up, having lunch with three of my construction crew buddies. We were being typical job-site assholes, calling out comments between sandwich bites to every good-looking girl who passed below. Hey, it breaks up the monotony, know what I mean?
“Swinging down the sidewalk comes this skinny, short and stacked little sweetheart like she’s in a big hurry. She has an intent look on her perfectly made-up face. She’s carrying a briefcase so small and thin it looks like it couldn’t hold a comic book. Her outfit technically is all-business, a grey jacket over a matching skirt, but in a ridiculously small size.
“‘Hey, cutie,’ I yelled. ‘Did you have to buy those duds at Baby Gap?’
“She looked up and stared at me. Man, talk about if looks could kill! She practically had steam coming out of her cute widdle ears.
“She faced me and the guys with her feet apart and her hands on her hips. Then she said, ‘You only wish you were man enough to fill my goddamned baby gap, you big-mouthed son of a bitch.’
“The other guys roared with laughter. My face went red, but I was smiling. I gave her a thumbs-up and said, ‘You’re all right, short-stuff.’
“The dirty-mouthed little angel smirked and said, ‘You’re not so bad, either. Why don’t you get your ass down here and introduce yourself?’
“The other guys were speechless. So much for all of those jokes about how being obnoxious never pays off for cat-calling construction workers. I scurried down a scaffold, hoping my stiffening dick wasn’t too obvious in my work pants.
“She looked even smaller up close, so compact and delicious that she made my mouth water. I pushed back my hardhat and said, ‘I’m Vince.’
“‘Josie,’ she said. ‘And don’t even think about calling me a pussycat, or I guarantee you’ll never get in my pants.’
“We made plans to meet for dinner. I hoped she would turn out to be like other bite-sized babes I had been with: eager to demonstrate that she didn’t have any ‘shortcomings’ in the sack.
“I wasn’t disappointed. Josie was so hot for sex that when the waiter asked if we wanted dessert, she answered, ‘No, thanks. He’ll be having his at home.’
“I could have stared forever at her body as she stripped. Her bottle-cap nipples were stiff and red on her baseball-sized tits. Her pubic hair was shaved into a tiny triangle above her neat cunt lips. When we got into the sack, she went right for my dick, like she wanted to prove she could get her cupid’s-bow mouth all the way around it.
“I ate her pussy while she sucked my cock. I pulled up her legs and held her butt cheeks apart to get a look at her asshole. That was what I really wanted. That was where I hoped to fuck her before the night was through.
“It was the same color as her pale skin, and so small it could have been an enlarged pore. I circled it with my tongue, making Josie moan. When I pressed the tip of my tongue against her anus, it constricted but then relaxed. I took advantage of that by wedging my stiffened tongue inside that muscular little ring.
“‘That’s the spot,’ Josie sighed. ‘Jesus, that feels amazing.’
“I fucked my tongue in and out, going deep. Then I pushed my thick middle finger up her ass while I went back to lapping her pussy. I’ve found that combination is good for getting a girl worked up enough to take on something even bigger.
“‘I want to fuck you in the ass,’ I said between her legs. I managed to work a second finger up her butt. ‘Right in this sweet, beautiful little asshole.’
“She might already have been open to the idea. If not, I knew the word ‘little’ would be the convincer. There was no way she would want me to think she was too small to do something other girls could do.
“She encircled the base of my cock with her hand-just barely-and squeezed. ‘It’s gonna be really fucking tight back there,’ she said, her voice thick with lust. ‘You sure you can take that kind of pressure? I mean, I don’t want to hurt you or anything.’
“I replied by flipping Josie onto her stomach and pulling her up on all fours. I grabbed a tube of lube I keep in the nightstand drawer for such occasions and pressed its tip right against Josie’s back door. I squeezed out a big, clear dollop of the stuff, quickly working it inside the rim of her sphincter with my fingers. Then I greased up my cock.
“Josie looked back at me over one shoulder. ‘Come on, baby,’ she said impatiently. ‘I’m ready.’
“I placed the swollen head of my cock against the tiny notch of her asshole. I pushed forward. What happened next was like an optical illusion. It looked as if there was no way my thick log would fit inside such a small opening. Like they say, though: ‘Lust will find a way.’
“‘Go deeper, you bastard,’ Josie said. ‘Give me every inch of that big dick.’
“I watched more and more of my glistening bone disappear inside her asshole. Josie was grunting and pushing back against me. She was so tight I broke out in an all-over sweat. My heart was racing. I wish I had taken a picture of my fat cock invading the incredibly narrow valley between her perfect little butt cheeks. I never had been so turned on in my life.
“When I was curlies-deep in her crack, she took hold of my scrotum with her soft, tiny hand and tugged on my balls. That was it for me. The combined sensations of her vice-tight asshole, the strong grip she had on my nuts, and the sight of her miniature shitter getting skewered put me way beyond the point of no return. I was gushing my load inside Josie’s guts after only a single, smooth in-stroke.
“I won’t sugarcoat what happened next. Josie got back in her clothes and sneered, ‘Thanks for the really huge thrill, Mister Big Stuff. That lasted so long I almost felt it.’ I told her she should be flattered that she could make a guy lose control so fast. She replied by slamming the door on her way out.
“That’s the one problem with banging Barbie-sized babes: they may be small, but in bed they can be too much of a good thing!”
SEXUAL SHORT ATTENTION SPAN KEEPS SESSIONS ACTION-PACKED
“One thing to keep in mind with petite chicks is that their attention spans can be as short as they are,” says Rob, a graphic designer.
“Take Megan, for example. She barely comes up to my armpits and weighs only 90 pounds, but she’s such a dirty little dynamo in bed she could wear out a porn star.
“She always wants to be on top when we fuck. You would assume that’s because she’s so tiny she doesn’t want to get smothered. Wrong. It’s because she is so impatient, energetic and hyperactive that she keeps wanting to change positions. Being on top puts her in complete control.
“We might start out with her squatting on my stiff dick and facing me. She pinches and twists her puffy nipples as she bounces up and down on my rod. I cup her wonderfully small butt cheeks in both hands, sometimes probing the notch of her asshole with a finger.
“Just as I start getting into the rhythm of the fuck, she suddenly will spin around to face the foot of the bed. She likes leaning way over and holding onto my shins while I’m embedded in her cunt. That bends my dick at an almost painful angle. What I like about the position, though, is the incredible view. I can hold Megan’s cheeks apart and see both of her holes. My cock looks monstrous going in and out of her little pussy, and her puckered anus flexes in response to every thrust.
“Next thing I know, Megan has turned halfway around on my crotch and is squeezing her legs together tight, riding me side-saddle. Then she might stretch out and face me, her stiff nipples rubbing against my chest. She occasionally jumps off to give me some head or rub her milky pussy in my face before climbing back on my prick for more fucking.
“I used to like girls who were languid and sensual in bed, the type who seem half-sleepy or stoned when they have sex. Not anymore! After one session with Megan, I was spoiled for life.
“So if you like the idea of feeling like a balance beam being ridden by a naked gymnast on a sugar rush, start setting your sights a little lower-literally. Trust me, your dick will get the workout of its life. All you have to do is hook up with a girl whose sex drive kept growing after she stopped!”
GROWN MAN DISCOVERS JOY OF PLAYING DRESS-UP WITH DOLL
“Okay, I admit it was wrong and even kind of evil,” says Burke, “but the reactions we got were fucking priceless.
“My girlfriend Beth works at an L.A. wardrobe company, where studios rent clothes for movies. She is 21 but super-tiny, standing only four-ten in heels. Her bra size is double-A, but for me that’s an ‘A plus.’ What can I say? Some guys go for huge boobs, some don’t. And take it from me: Beth’s tiny tits are every bit as sensitive and suckable as any super-stacked centerfold’s. Rubbing my black beard against her dime-sized nipples is almost enough to make her come.
“The two of us never thought of ourselves as exhibitionists, but one night we got the urge to fuck on the balcony. We were happily screwing away when we heard a high-pitched bitch across the courtyard yell, ‘Get off of her, you goddamned molesting pervert! I’m calling the police right now! You should be castrated, electrocuted and shot!’
“We realized that the nosy old cunt thought Beth was, shall we say, something less than legal. Sure enough, we soon heard the police pounding on the front door. They were highly skeptical at first about the birthdate on Beth’s driver’s license, but eventually let us off with a warning about public indecency.
“‘That fucking bitch,’ Beth said after the cops left. ‘I hate stupid, sour old cunts like her. Old people suck. They’re always treating me like I’m their goddamned granddaughter. I’m a full-grown woman!’
“‘You sure are, baby. Now how about if we get back to what we were doing.’
“‘You’re damned right we will. Come on.’ She surprised me by tugging me toward the balcony, where she went to her knees and unzipped my pants. In full potential view of our 911-dialing neighbor, she fished out my cock and began bobbing up and down the length of my dick.
“I made her stop and hustled her back inside the apartment, not wanting to push our luck. We ended up having one of our best fuck sessions ever that night, though. Beth was all over me, doing a damned good job of proving she was one-hundred-percent woman.
“She sucked me until I came, then got me hard again in less than a minute. When she got on all fours in the bed and held her cheeks apart, she said I could fuck her any way I wanted.
“I started off in her snug little pussy. When I was ready to shoot, I pulled out of her cunt and situated the head of my dick against her asshole. I gushed my load inside and all around that furrowed pink ring.
“Beth was the one who came up with the idea of borrowing a few costumes from her employer ‘to freak out some old farts.’ The first outfit she brought home was a blazer, kneesocks and pleated-skirt. We drove out of town and snuck into the rough beside a golf course. We could see a foursome of middle-aged, prune-faced hags approaching on the fairway.
“Beth bent over and held onto a tree in plain sight of the geriatric group. I flipped up her skirt, tugged her white cotton panties down to her knees, and started boning her from behind.
“It wasn’t long before we heard a shrill cry of, ‘For the love of God, someone stop that monster!’ Our mission accomplished, Beth and I ran for our car and sped away, laughing like fucking maniacs.
“The next week, Beth came home with a skin-tight pink ballerina outfit, complete with ruffled lace tutu and white tights. She ripped a hole at the crotch- ‘That ought to give the next girl who rents it a big surprise,’ she said-and we headed for a nearby retirement community.
“We were in full view of the clubhouse’s picture window on bridge-tournament day. Beth wrapped her tiny legs around my waist and held onto my neck while I gave her a stand-up screw in the perfectly manicured shrubbery.
My cock thrust in and out of her slippery cunt through the torn crotch of the tights. I was supporting her weight with both hands under her butt cheeks. That put so much strain on the tights that they ripped even wider, exposing Beth’s entire ivory-white ass.
“We heard loud rapping on the picture window. A dozen slack, bloodless mouths were opening and closing like gasping fish. Canes were waving. Dentures were gritted in furious rage. Beth and I nearly passed out in hysterics on the ride home.
“Our most recent adventure took place at the wooded edge of a civic auditorium parking lot on the night of a big-band concert. When we found what looked like a good spot, Beth tossed off her cover-up trench coat and knelt in front of me. She was dressed in half of a cheerleader costume. All that was missing was the sweater. That meant she was completely bare from the waist up.
“I held onto her small, pigtailed head as she sucked my hard dick. At the same time, she was tugging energetically on her tiny, nearly flat nipples.
“‘The horror! The horror!’ screeched an old bat in a wide-brimmed hat. A few of her grey-faced friends chimed in, calling me everything but a good citizen. One of them fumbled arthritically with a cell phone, presumably attempting to notify the authorities.
“‘Fuck yourselves, you dried-up old skags!’ Beth yelled, giving them the finger with both hands. ‘Sucking cock rules!’
“‘Beth? Honey, is that you?’ It was Beth’s blind great-grandmother, waving her white cane uncertainly in the air behind the shuffling mob.
“Beth squealed in alarm and sprinted away like a deer running for its life. I grabbed her coat and started after her, ignoring a tossed colostomy bag that grazed the side of my head.
“‘I think maybe we should consider taking up a new hobby,’ Beth said later after we were safe behind closed doors at home. That one close call was just too close for her comfort and more of a wake-up call than either of us imagined.
“I looked up from between her slender legs, past the hiked-up cheerleader’s skirt that was bunched at her waist. My thumb was buried to the second knuckle in her asshole, and my entire face was glazed with girl-cream from eating her shaved pink pussy.
“‘How about mah-jongg?’ I suggested without loosing the moment.
James Dawson’s novel Wasted Talents is available on his website, www.stjamesdawson.com.
In the annals of great literature, man’s never-ending quest for quim has been represented by everything from safaris to military operations to high-stakes games of chance. That’s because trolling for tail usually involves stealth, strategy and at least a little bit of risk.
A more fitting metaphor for the dirty dance of romance is one that you won’t find in any highbrow novels about the human condition, however. For my money, everything that a lad needs to know about getting laid can be gleaned on any warm Saturday morning in the suburbs.
The guideposts that will set you on the path to poontang paradise are everywhere. All you have to do is notice them, thumbtacked to utility poles at most intersections. They are the homemade, hand-lettered signs that direct you to yard sales, where you can learn a shitload about succeeding in the sack.
Granted, the idea of rolling out of bed early on a weekend to cruise neighborhood side streets might not sound too appealing. Hell, why mince words? It actually sounds pathetic, low-class and disgustingly old-fartish. Trust me, though: If you haven’t done it, you don’t know what you’re missing.
I’m not just talking about swell stuff such as boxes of cast-off men’s magazines, ridiculously underpriced sports-card collections, amazingly cheap tools or never-used, former-wedding-present waffle-makers. I mean valuable life lessons that will help you score with the womenfolk, bucko.
As a service to those readers who live in urban areas, or who are too hung over on Saturdays to think of getting up before noon, or who simply think that I am fucked in the head, below are some of the pussy-procuring pointers I have picked up.
1. HAVE A PLAN OF ACTION
Methodical Great White-Trash Hunters scour the classifieds on Fridays looking for the next day’s most promising sales, then map their course of action accordingly. An ad that says “DVDs, Computer Games and Adult Videos” automatically takes precedence over one that lists nothing more than an address and a start time.
Similarly, when you are on the prowl for poon, don’t begin the night at a bar you know nothing about. If a friend has told you he never fails to hook up with slutty, do-anything bimbos at a certain watering hole, then why the fuck would you start your evening anywhere else?
More importantly, know where you want to go next if your first target doesn’t pan out. Wandering aimlessly only wastes time . . . time that other guys are using to pick up the girls you could have had at the places where you should have been.
2. DON’T BOTHER WASHING
Getting up sufficiently early to hit a seven-thirty yard sale is tough enough without adding the extra time a morning shower would take. Besides, the scruffier you look, the more likely it is that a seller will take pity on your sorry ass and cut you a deal when it comes time to pay.
Now, believe it or not, exactly the same logic applies to picking up girls!
“I actually have better luck when I look like crap than when I spruce myself up,” a friend once told me. “I had been nearly a week without a shower or a shave once, because I had just been on a camping trip. On the way home, I went in a bar and saw this incredibly hot girl.
“I thought there was no way I had a chance with her, so I didn’t even take a shot. Next thing I knew, she had eased up beside me and was asking where I was from. Apparently dirty hair, whiskers and shit-breath added up to ‘he-man’ in her book.
“Pretty soon we were at her place and she was sucking my dick, bobbing all the way up and down the thing. At least that meant one part of me was clean by the time I climbed on top and fucked her!”
3. FINDING WHAT YOU NEVER KNEW YOU WANTED
One thing I like about yard sales is the complete randomness of what turns up. What’s even better is spotting something which you didn’t know you desired, but which you suddenly realize you absolutely must have.
For me, these totally unexpected items have included a twenty-year-old Betamax VCR, a deck of nineteen-fifties Gil Elvgren nudie playing cards, a porcelain model of the Tower of London, a “Best of Martin Denny” lounge-music LP and a four-foot black light.
Technically, all I had set out seeking that day was used books and CDs–but all of that other great junk unexpectedly caught my fancy. Any guy who has a rigidly preconceived notion of what he wants in a woman–besides his dick, that is–can learn from this.
You may think your dream babe is an all-American fresh-off-the-farm cheerleader with blonde hair, blue eyes and a porcelain complexion. You might spend all of your time chasing after chicks who fit that description of your ideal woman.
Then one night you walk into a party where the only available options are ethnic brunettes. And one of them is just super-cute, a petite Guatemalan with huge brown eyes, mocha skin and a sensuous pair of made-for-meat-eating lips.
None of your jerk-off fantasies ever featured a girl like her. If someone had told you beforehand that the party would be completely lacking in Barbie clones, you would have stayed home and missed out on this exotic little knockout. Instead, you end up going south of the border later for the spiciest dish of your life.
To paraphrase Sir Mick, you can’t always get what you want . . . but something else might turn out to be just what you need.
4. USE A LITTLE IMAGINATION
Every now and then, you will spot something for sale that is so dirty, you find yourself thinking twice about paying its dirt-cheap price. Picture chrome-spoke wheel covers left behind some belly-scratching slob’s back-yard shack for a few years. With a little imagination, though, it is usually easy to tell if there is something worthwhile under the grime.
Women who hide their charms by dressing like slobs offer the same challenge. That’s when you have to employ a little imagination.
For a remarkably appropriate example, consider the girls who run yard sales. If you put yourself in the right frame of mind, a dressed-like-crap twenty-something who is making like a salesgirl on her dewy lawn can be oddly erotic.
She probably was out drinking the night before. A smooth-talking stranger paid the bar tab she and her ugly best friend had run up. She ditched the friend and let the guy take her to his condo. He turned out to be a pretty good fuck, with the kind of cock that curves upward at the perfect angle to rub her G-spot. It felt so good sliding in and out of her pussy that she experienced one of her super-rare gushing climaxes, soaking his crotch and the black satin sheets.
She got home late to her parents’ house. Her mother made her get up at the crack of dawn anyway, to help her lug a bunch of tawdry tchotchkes out front and scatter them on a plastic tarp. Living at home is a pain, but this ponytailed princess can’t afford an apartment on her shitty salary.
So there she is, bleary-eyed and slightly bitchy, in a too-big T-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants. You, however, understand that it is what’s inside that counts. And what’s inside is most likely two more-than-adequate tits, a tight ass and a perfectly serviceable pussy. Sold!
5. FEEL FREE TO DICKER ABOUT DICKING HER
I love asking how much something is at a yard sale and getting this response: “Gee, I don’t know. Is fill in a criminally low amount too much?” Those sellers are just begging to be super-low-balled. They may as well be saying, “Take advantage of me, please!”
Even if the item in question is worth ten times as much, I always respond by offering half of the quoted price. You would be simply appalled at how often this tactic pays off.
Likewise, a date might ask you questions such as:
• “Are you sure you can control yourself if we just sleep together?”
• “Do you swear you will try not to come in my mouth?”
• “You aren’t going to expect it every time if I let you fuck me in the ass tonight, are you?”
You should feel free to make her counteroffers, such as:
• “I’ll do my best.”
• “I can’t make any promises.”
• “Only if that’s what you want, baby.”
Remember, the perfect sexual transaction is one in which neither party feels screwed, but both of you end up getting fucked. This way everybody goes home happy and with memories to pull from for the next sexcursion.
6. WHEN IN DOUBT…RUN WITH THE BALL!
I don’t know if she was shamelessly brazen or sweetly naive. All I know is, one college-age cutie I encountered had a half-dozen of her used panties spread before her on a tablecloth along with other articles of clothing. Did she honestly think another girl her size would buy her tantalizing tiny lacy undies? Or was she counting on some slobbering perv snapping them up to enjoy later in the privacy of his home?
To this day, I still wonder if I should have picked up the skimpiest pair, passed them casually under my nose and muttered, “I’m in the mood for love.” The pretty proprietress probably would have swooned, stripped and spread on the spot. Instead, I skulked away without saying a word.
Learn from my mistake, gentlemen. Nobody ever scores by punting.
7. DON’T IGNORE OBVIOUS WARNING SIGNS
Want to know the single most inappropriate item I’ve ever seen offered for sale in somebody’s driveway? That honor has to go to a half-used bottle of Summer’s Eve douche, spotted on a card table among one enterprising entrepreneur’s inventory. Call me picky, but I suddenly lost all interest in checking out what else she was selling.
The same “watch out for red flags” rule applies in the dating world.
“I met a smoking-hot girl at work who had a pair of tits you wouldn’t believe,” reports Glen. “They were the big, round kind that hang really low and jiggle a lot when she walks. I couldn’t wait to get my mitts and my mouth on them.
“One thing about her was kind of creepy, though. She was so into ferrets that she talked about them all the time. I was so busy concentrating on her jugs that I tried not to let her weird obsession bug me. In fact, I didn’t realize it would be a problem until she invited me over for what would have been our first screw.
“Turned out that a dozen of the little fuckers were running loose everywhere–weaseling around, stinking the place up and generally freaking me out. Much as I wanted to bang this chick, I didn’t want to feel a wet nose go up my crack while I was doing her. I got out of there and never looked back.”
8. AVOID REPEAT SELLERS
Some desperate fuckers seem to have yard sales every damned Saturday of the year. You can imagine the quality of their crappy leftover merchandise, stuff that people have refused to buy week after week after week. Eventually, the savvy yard-saler starts recognizing those addresses–and avoiding them.
Similarly, if you keep seeing the same unappetizing coven of bedraggled skrags at a certain meat market, cross the place off your list. They aren’t going to get better-looking with age.
9. SOMETIMES, YOU JUST GET LUCKY
The main thing that cruising yard sales has in common with cruising for young tail is this: You never know when it will happen, and there is no way to predict it, but sometimes you just plain get lucky.
The best bargain I ever found in somebody’s front yard was a five-hundred-dollar Franklin Mint Monopoly set going for thirty bucks. It wasn’t even mentioned in the seller’s classified ad, but there it was in all its near-pristine-condition glory.
Waiting around the next corner might be a lisping Eurasian gymnast who will show you all the forbidden sexual secrets of the Orient. The next hire at your workplace could be a copper-haired nymphomaniac who likes mixing business with pleasure. A guy on your bowling team might have a nineteen-year-old bisexual sister who gets off on anal sex and threeways. You never know . . . But, if you happen to be in the right place at the right time, you will be in an even better place soon thereafter.
I should mention that I eventually unloaded the super-deluxe Monopoly set on eBay. It netted me a sufficiently outrageous profit to finance lots of future Saturday-morning scavenger hunts. The quest never ends.
“St. James Place” scribe James Dawson’s novel Wasted Talents is available now on his website, www.stjamesdawson.com.
What sort of man enjoys watching other guys fuck his wife? Sounds kind of like the opening line for an after-shave ad, doesn’t it? “If you’re confident enough to wear Cuckold cologne, you know exactly who you are. You never feel threatened by a little stiff competition. You enjoy seeing what the other guy has to offer before you show what you’ve got. Your motto is ‘Bring on all comers.’ You may not be the first guy your woman sees at night but you definitely are the last man she wants.”
I can’t imagine ever counting myself among those free-and-easy “Take my wife, please” fellows. Still, that doesn’t keep me from wishing that the husbands of several women I know were into the idea of sharing their sexy spouses. In a perfect world, those are the guys who would be doing the “wife-watching.” Me, I would be one of the parties being watched.
Trying to instigate an affair with any of the married women I currently count as “pals” would result only in shocked outrage, shattered friendships and the possibility of unsettling gunplay. But if their husbands were cool with the idea, that would put a whole different spin on things.
The least I could do in such a situation would be to volunteer my sexual services. Better a frisky fuck from a family friend than a shameful screw with some scary stranger, right?
Herewith, then, is how I imagine three of those erectionary encounters unspooling. They feature a trio of succulent real-life wives who never again are likely to invite me into their happy homes if they get wind of this article. Fortunately, I think their subscriptions may have lapsed.
THE SENSUOUS WOMAN
Ana is a tasty Turkish delight. Her skin is butterscotch, her eyes are opals, her wavy hair as black as a starless night. She is big-busted, narrow-waisted, as curvaceous as a harem odalisque.
She married a guy who is as “apple pie” as she is exotic. When I joined them and a few other friends for a “game night” recently, somebody decided it would be fun to make up our own “Scruples”-type questions. One was, “Who in this room would you most want to sleep with?” Each person’s unsigned answer was tossed into a hat.
Three guys and three girls were present. When the slips of paper were tallied, four people had chosen Ana. That’s how sexy she is.
In my wife-watching fantasy, she calls me the next day. “I got really turned on when I found out you wanted to fuck me,” she says. I never have heard her use any four-letter words before. My cock actually throbs.
“I wasn’t the only one,” I reply.
“But you’re the only one I want to let do it.”
I suddenly could not care less that she is married to a sweetheart of a guy. All I want is to put my cock in her.
“Bennie works late tonight,” Ana purrs. “If you come over at six, we could have some fun.”
I show up an hour early. I always thought of Ana as completely faithful. I can’t believe I am lucky enough to be the guy she picked for her first fling.
We strip in her bedroom. She has plum-color nipples and a springy pubic bush. She sucks my cock while I lick her creamy cunt. Then she turns around, takes my head between her palms, and puts her mouth close to my ear. She whispers, “Bennie is in the closet watching us. Pretend you don’t know.”
This completely freaks me out. I resist the urge to look at the louvered door. Why did she tell me? Then I understand. She wants to see if I am man enough to give her a good fuck even under that kind of pressure.
I push up her knees, rub my swollen cockhead up and down the meaty slit of her sex, and push inside. She moans through our whole fuck, really getting into it. Knowing Bennie is watching actually excites me.
I want a big finale. “Let me come in your mouth,” I say.
Ana nods. I pull out of her milky cunt. She scrambles to put her mouth on my slippery dick. I pant through my nose as I pump my load down her throat.
The closet door flies open. Bennie falls onto the floor, his pants bunched around his ankles and his cock in his fist.
“You stupid asshole!” Ana snarls at him. “How many times do I have to tell you not to lean on the goddamned handle? Is this going to happen every fucking time?”
All of a sudden, I don’t feel so special anymore.
Janine is a doll-faced, every-hair-in-place, perfectly tailored professional woman. She and her husband are such squeaky-clean Yuppies that I can’t help fantasizing about how great it would be to see her peel down and get really nasty.
I imagine myself dropping in at an extremely seedy “gentleman’s club.” From the look of the crowd, I get the feeling that this sort of slumming may not have been a good idea. I am about to beat a hasty retreat when I hear the DJ’s voice over the speakers.
“Pull out your dicks and your dollar bills, gents, for our new girl Janine!”
I don’t know which surprises me more, the fact that it really is my Barbie-doll-perfect friend on the stage, or that she is moonlighting under her real name. I sit next to a bearded thug who looks like he would be delighted to kick my ass, if only he were sober.
Janine is wearing a ripped pink baby-T that leaves the bottom curves of her big tits bare. Her black G-string is wedged between her pussy lips, which are shaved completely smooth. My cock feels like a missile that is ready to explode through my Dockers, and Janine hasn’t even stripped yet.
Her little shirt comes off first. Her nipples are like two red cherries on her pale, smooth tits. Then she pushes down her G-string. Her cunt is a very modest notch between her legs. But when she turns around and spreads her flawless cheeks, her asshole is a whole other story. It is so relaxed that it gapes open as wide as a quarter, showing the slick pinkness inside. It takes an awful lot of butt-fucking to condition a girl’s asshole that way. Her husband must be the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.
I’m just about to grab my cock for some relief when she sees me. She turns her back, wags that irresistible ass, and crooks a finger in my direction. I make it onto the stage in a millisecond.
She has to shout over the loud music. “Put your tongue up my asshole,” she says. Well, I was the one who wanted to see her act nasty, after all. She adds, “Do you think you can do that while my hubby is watching?”
I look where she indicates. Sure enough, her husband Larry is at a table in the corner, watching us with eyes like laser sights. He seems very out of place in his wool blazer and rep tie.
Janine has gotten on all fours with her butt in the air an offer I can’t refuse. Heedless of our audience, I get on my knees, spread her luscious cheeks, and give her a genuinely world-class rim job. After a few minutes, I take my cock out of my zipper. It slides up her silky shit chute like a greased piston. I start going at Janine’s rump like a rabbit on speed. Then an airborne beer mug catches me in the chest and knocks me backward.
Larry rushes the stage, accompanied by a half-dozen greasy bikers. God only knows how he enlisted their services. The next thing I know, I am being plunged headfirst into a stopped-up toilet. Several times. Larry must have realized that he was not quite as fond of wife-watching as he thought he would be. Then my head goes under again.
“Nasty enough for you?” Janine shouts through the men’s-room door.
These fantasies do not seem to be playing out in quite the manner I had expected. Perhaps I should quickly move on to daydream number three:
THE COUNTRY GIRL
Christy is sunny, blonde and wholesome, the kind of fresh-faced beauty you picture bringing home-baked cherry pies to small-town church socials. She has a slight Southern accent, great tits and a firm little ass that looks amazing in cutoff jeans.
Her husband is the grown-up boy next door. A nicer guy you couldn’t hope to meet. But in the gutter that is my mind, he approaches me and says, “Could you maybe fuck Christy a few times while I watch?”
This takes me somewhat aback. “Wha ?”
“I want to see if maybe I’m doing something wrong,” he continues. “I just can’t seem to make her come. I thought maybe if you licked her pussy, ate her ass, fucked her between her big fat tits and gave her a good cornholing while I watched, maybe I could pick up a few “
Uh-oh. I have to end this column now. My own better half just smacked me in the back of the head and stormed out of the house. She must have snuck up behind my desk and started reading what I was typing.
Hell, how was I supposed to know my wife was watching?
St. James Place scribe Dawson may be contacted through his website at www.stjamesdawson.com
“Look at those frisky, happy-go-lucky fuckers,” a friend mumbled from the passenger seat of my crapmobile. We were driving past a park that was like a grassy oasis among the San Fernando Valley’s strip malls. Frolicking with carefree abandon in that landscaped green sanctuary were dozens of dogs.
“I wish to hell they made off-leash parks for married guys,” he added, staring wistfully out the window. “You know, the other day I saw a cartoon of a dumpy wife holding a leash while she watched her nerdy husband jump for joy behind a fence like that one,” he said, pointing. “I swear, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love my wife and all, but sometimes a guy has to slip the old collar and remember what it was like to be single and wild. Just for a little taste of freedom, you know? Imagine being able to go someplace where you could act like a dirty, horny animal without catching any shit from anyone.”
He absent-mindedly twisted his wedding ring around and around his finger. Inside the park, the dogs were chasing each other, rolling on the grass, barking and sniffing and nuzzling. Most of them had run as far from their owners as they could as soon as they were untethered. For that brief and precious away-from-home interval, every one of those dogs was his own master.
“Imagine a place where everyone could check their clothes and their wedding bands at the gate,” he continued. “I can picture myself chasing some naked, giggling redhead and wrestling her onto the grass. I’d spread her cheeks, sniff her butt, stuff my cock up her cunt and howl with pleasure while I fucked her doggie-style.
“Then I’d go after some other sexy stranger, maybe some exotic breed, like a Swedish-Asian chick with platinum-blonde hair and almond-shaped eyes. We would roll around on the ground licking each other like a pair of nasty mutts, my tongue up her pussy and hers lapping my balls. A guy could trot from one hot, bare-assed beauty to another until he was tired out from all of the exercise then go back home to married life without any guilt or hurt feelings or the threat of divorce.”
He nudged me and added, “Check out that black labrador. He’s got the right idea.” The dog in question had jumped onto the back of a compliant collie and was happily humping away. The lab’s eyes were half closed, his tongue hung lewdly from his mouth and he was drooling. Males of any species could relate to that.
A man who presumably was the collie’s owner ran up behind the loving couple and began whacking the black lab’s ass with a rolled-up newspaper. The dog looked back and gave him a pathetic look that seemed to say, “Jesus, pal, can’t you show a little brotherly compassion?”
The mood was killed, though. The lab sullenly disengaged and slunk away.
My friend looked at me blankly. “Well, I guess things are the same all over when you come right down to it, aren’t they?” he said. “There’s no such thing as a free lunge.”
“And life’s a bitch,” I added.
“You’re doggone right,” he rejoindered, at which point we began punching each other, laughing like idiots and swerving crazily down the street.
OUT-OF-STATE IN-LAW’S FUNERAL BRINGS HUSBAND BACK TO LIFE
“I know it’s sick,” says Jay, “but I actually had to keep from smiling when we got the word that my wife’s great-aunt had died. I didn’t especially dislike the old broad or anything, it’s just that I knew my wife would be flying cross-country for the funeral, and I could beg off going with her because the deceased wasn’t immediate family and I’d used up all my vacation days. That meant that I’d have almost a week of freedom to see how much good, dirty trouble I could get myself into!
“After dropping wifey at the airport to catch the red-eye, I headed straight for a singles bar that some guys at work had mentioned. ‘The joint’s a pussy paradise,’ was how one described it. ‘Girls don’t go there to find true love or potential soulmates. They go there when they want to get fucked.’
“That was just what I needed: a no-strings-attached one-night-stand. After three whole years of wedded bliss, it was pathetic how eager I was to fuck somebody new. Every married man knows the feeling. No matter how good things are at home, the urge to make new conquests never goes away.
“I wanted to suck new tits, eat new pussies and put my cock in a few new sockets. I wanted that thrill of watching a new girl whip off her bra and peel down her panties for me for the first time. I needed it bad.
“I walked in the place and didn’t know where to start. A lot of girls were already paired off with guys, making the kind of small talk that leads to ‘Your place or mine?’ A few were dancing with girls on the small dance floor, like sexy show-offs seeing how worked up they could get the guys in the place.
“Then I saw the one I wanted. She was at the bar. Her shiny blue shirt was just tight enough to show off medium-size tits. Her skirt was short enough to reveal the smooth undercurve of the leg that was crossed over the other. In front of her was a tall glass with a paper umbrella in it. Her hair and eyebrows were jet-black. Her expression was one of those crooked, contemptuous little smirks that says, ‘I can’t believe I’m sitting in a shitty dive like this waiting to get picked up.’
“She looked like the type who could be a real ball-buster if she wanted to be. She was exactly the type of girl I wanted to bang the most. You might think a married guy would prefer somebody more girlish and feminine and innocent, not another version of his hard-ass wife. Wrong. Let’s put it this way: Once you get used to eating spicy foods, it’s tough to go back to a bland diet.
“I eased up beside her. I asked, ‘You want to get out of here?’ I didn’t want to waste any time. Also, I thought she’d appreciate the direct approach.
“She gave me an icy stare. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘You’re married and your wife is out of town.’
“‘Right the first time! And I’m dying to hook up with a girl as hot as you.’
“She lit a cigarette, took a long drag and blew a plume of smoke in my face. ‘Are you good at eating pussy? Don’t lie, now . . . ‘
“‘That’ll be for you to decide. All I can say is that I’ll keep licking, sucking and probing your cunt until you beg me to stop. That sound good enough?’
“She stared at me for a few more seconds, not batting an eye. She finally said, ‘Let’s go.’
“I followed her in my car to her condo. We didn’t make any chitchat, just headed straight to the bedroom. I tried to kiss her. She pushed me away and said, ‘Just get your clothes off.’
“I watched her while I stripped. Her shirt came off, then her lacy black bra. Her tits were good and firm, with nipples so dark they were almost brown. She unzipped the back of her skirt and stepped out of it. The thick black triangle inside her pantyhose made my mouth water. A lot of guys go for shaved pussy, but not me. I like a babe with a full, hairy bush.
“She lay back on the bed and pulled up her knees. In the middle of all her springy black curls, the inner lips of her pussy extended from her slit like fleshy butterfly wings. I could smell the musky scent of that beautiful cunt from where I stood. My cock was so hard it was pulsing up and down.
“I got on the bed with her and buried my face between her thighs. I shoved my tongue as deep in her sweet hole as it would go. Then I was sucking and kissing and lapping at that delicious bearded snatch like, well, like a guy who hadn’t gotten any new pussy in three years.
“I realized that I didn’t even know this chick’s name, but it didn’t matter. She was squirming on the bed, pushing her pussy right in my face, grabbing my hair to hold me closer to her crotch. I slipped a thumb up her asshole and worked it in and out while I ate her box.
“She groaned, ‘Fuck, make me do it! Make me come right in your fucking face.’ I found her clit and sucked hard, flicking the underside of the swollen bud with the tip of my tongue. She suddenly lifted her ass off the bed, cried out and squirted three strong jets of girl-come into my open mouth.
“She gave me a dreamy smile. She held her sopping pussy open with her fingertips, a none-too-subtle invitation to my cock. I slipped inside her and started fucking away.
“My days of being a faithful husband were over forever. After that night I knew I’d be jumping the fence every chance I got for the rest of my life. I had remembered a law of nature that I had been denying for too long: Dogs like me were meant to chase pussies!”
HORNY HUBBY USES RIGHT TOOL ON HORMONAL HARDWARE HOTTIE
“My wife was off at another goddamned business convention and I was incredibly horny,” says Tommy. “She has a white-collar job and she makes great money, and we get along great when she’s in town. But a guy has his needs, you know?
“I wanted a girl who was the exact opposite of my wife, and I knew exactly where to look. You ever see chicks who shop by themselves in big hardware stores? I don’t mean those clueless housewives who don’t know a toggle-bolt from a two-by-four. I mean smudge-faced, rough-and-ready babes in paint-stained jeans with leather tool belts riding on their hips.
“I spotted a perfect candidate in the lumber section, writing figures in a flip-open notebook. Her big tits pushed out the oversized pockets of her denim work shirt. Her tool belt hung at a sexy angle from her narrow waist. Long strands of her straight blonde hair had come loose from her ponytail. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but her lips were so full and red she didn’t need any. And her nose looked just right covered in freckles.
“She saw me checking her out. She met my gaze and held it. She was no blushing, delicate virgin. She was a real woman, strong and confident and bullshit-free. “She walked toward me. ‘You’re lookin’ pretty good there, pal,’ she said, putting her hands on her hips. ‘And fortunately for you, I’m right in the middle of my cycle and horny as hell. Are you interested in getting yourself a fuck, or are you just doing some window-shopping here?’
“It’s not very often a guy gets an offer that good. I said, ‘My place is ten minutes from here.’
“‘Sorry. I’m on the clock and I don’t have that much time,’ she replied. ‘My truck’s in the parking lot, though. It’s got a camper on the back. Let’s boogie.’
“I watched her rubber-grip hammer bounce against the outer curve of her left thigh as I followed her out of the store. She led me to a battered Chevy pickup. The camper on its bed was too short to stand up in. Fortunately, we wouldn’t be doing any standing up.
“Once we were inside, she got out of her jeans fast, but left her shirt on. No panties. Almost no pubic hair. Blue tattoo of a union logo at the upper-right of her pussy’s cleft. She leaned back on a bare mattress, casually rubbing her mound while I scrambled out of my pants and boxers.
“‘Pull your dick for me,’ she said. ‘I like to watch guys jerk it a little before they put this on.’ She tossed me a rubber from a cardboard box in the corner.
“I stared at her pussy and stroked my stiff cock. My balls were drawn up tight. Blondie was frigging herself hard, really working her mound. I wasn’t going to wait for an invitation. I rolled the rubber onto my prick, climbed on top of her and pushed my hard-on into her slot. She grabbed my ass, squeezing hard, drawing me into her.
“The truck rocked back and forth as I fucked her in its close confines. Her pussy was so wet it made slurping sounds. The sweaty smell of sex that filled the camper would have given a brass statue a boner. She grunted and hissed when she came, bucking up against me like a bronco. When she stuck a finger up my ass, I filled my rubber with what felt like a quart of come.
“Her pager went off. She found her jeans and looked at its screen. ‘I’ve gotta git going,’ she said, tossing me my pants. We got dressed in a hurry. Next thing I knew, I was standing in the parking lot with a stupid look on my face, watching her drive away.
“Sure, it wasn’t what you would call a fancy fuck, but it definitely got the job done. What’s my advice to hounds like me who want to play while the cat’s away? When you’ve got wood you don’t know what to do with and you need your pipes cleaned, head for the nearest hardware store!”
ITCHY, IMPATIENT INTERNIST ASKS, ‘ISN’T IT IRONIC?’
“True story,” says Cameron, an internist at a major metropolitan hospital. “My wife went on a six-day cruise with her sister last summer. She said the fact that I couldn’t take any time off wasn’t going to keep her from having a vacation.
“The first night she was gone, I already was thinking about cheating on her. That liberated, ‘I-can-do-anything’ feeling is pretty hard to describe to single guys, but I’ll try. Pathetic married bastards like me feel like fucking everything in sight as soon as our wives are out of sight.
“One of the younger nurses in my department had made it pretty clear that she wouldn’t mind being more than coworkers with me. I asked if I could stop by her place after my shift. Her eyes lit up. I actually saw her nipples stiffen and poke against the starched material of her white uniform.
“I felt like a total dog–but in a good way–as I ripped my clothes off and watched her strip that night. Her tits were so firm they stood away from her chest without a bit of sag to them. Her pubic hair was shaved into a small golden triangle above her cunt. When both of us were naked, she pressed her warm body against mine and put her tongue in my mouth.
“She pushed me down so I was sitting on the edge of her bed with my cock pointing straight up. She went to her knees and got between my legs. She started sucking my dick and palming my nuts at the same time. Her other hand was around the base of my shaft, milking it while she blew me.
“She raised up and pushed her chest against my tool. She placed my stiff dick between her breasts and pressed them close around it, forming a smooth, surrogate pussy. She looked up at me with a shamelessly slutty expression as she bounced up and down on my hard-on with those firm, young tits. Then she put her mouth over my cockhead again for some more sucking.
“I held onto her head and came in her mouth. She let some of my semen dribble down my erect shaft onto my balls, where she rubbed it in slowly. That felt so good I never wanted it to end. I’d never gotten blown that way by my wife, that’s for damn sure.
“Then my precious little cocksucker sweetly said, ‘I’m in the mood for something kind of kinky tonight. Is that okay with you?’
“I said, ‘Anything you want.’ I meant it, too. I felt free and alive and wild.
“She got up from the bed and rummaged through a dresser drawer. When she turned back around to face me, she was holding up a wide, black-patent-leather dog collar attached to a heavy silver leash.
“All I could say was, ‘Woof.’”