My girlfriend and I had talked a lot about our fantasies together, especially during sex. One theme we brought up a lot was the idea of a threesome... she was more comfortable and receptive to having a guy join us, and we focused on that. We would incorporate a lot of dirty talk in the bedroom... she'd describe what she wanted to do to "him", or I'd ask her what she wanted us both to do. It grew over time and obviously turned us both on.
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Marie rolled onto her back and stretched sensually. Her back arched as her hands and arms reached out above her head, her hard nipples, perched at the tip of her firm breasts, reaching up towards the sun. She relaxed, resting back on the towel that was still cool despite the heat of the late afternoon sun, her hands still above her head, her breasts taut on her chest.
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I woke up around three thirty in the morning with a raging piss hard-on. Since at the present time I live alone there was nothing to do with it but head for the bathroom. At my age, a hard-on of any kind is a terrible thing to waste.
Also at my age, waking up this early is always a problem as it's hard to get back to sleep. I tried to go back to bed and sleep but it wasn't happening, so I got back up and made a pot of coffee.
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Back in the 70's, in that decade of post-Pill and pre-HIV, I was a first year grad student at Berkeley when I met a new assistant prof in the history department. Jed was a few years older than I was, and he was a real product of the 60's: a bushy bearded and somewhat stocky teddybear kind of a guy who loved his dope and loved the sexual freedoms that emerged from those times.
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We first saw him at the beach, just down from the resort where we were spending two weeks. He was with a girl as stunning and as gorgeous as he was. While Steve and I first remarked on the absolute lusciousness of the girl, I made sure to comment on the "big bulge" in the crotch of the boy's Speedos, drawing Steve's attention to the ample package of hidden male genital goodies. We shared a knowing smile, both well aware of our common appreciation for such goodies.
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Looking back, we both must have known it was over. But at the time I doubt even she would have admitted it.
Amanda was angry at me though, that much was obvious. She told me not to get too drunk, because I had to drive home, so of course I wait straight to the bar and made myself a strong vodka tonic. The first of five in a not very long evening.
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"You will wear the blue skirt!" she tells me, reaching to pull it out of the closet.
I am already wearing the corset; black satin, laced, long suspenders linked on to sheer black stockings. Fishnet, she says, is tacky. Personally I think the whole suspenders-and-stockings thing is tacky, and much prefer bare flesh, but then, it's not for me to decide.
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Cathy was shivering as she hurried to her Mustang in the school parking lot. She ignored all the whistles and comments from the students as the cold wind swirled around and blew her skirt up revealing her slim legs and pink panties. After starting the car she put on the heater but it blew nothing but cold air. She wished that she lived in a warmer climate than New Jersey.
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1.
"I don’t even know how to play golf, Larry!" I stared at my boyfriend over my latte and shook my head.
Not for the first time, I wondered why I had ever hooked up with him in the first place. Larry was a sports freak. If it involved large sweaty men, odd clothing and arcane rules of conduct, he was into it. Sometimes I had a suspicion that he liked the large sweaty men part of it the best--he wasn’t exactly an athlete in bed with me.
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Linda and I had been planning a trip down under for several years. Finally, we booked a cruise around New Zealand and you have to read this story.
My wife is a round and sexy woman. She has huge tits and is not afraid to show off a bit of cleavage when she's in the mood, which is most of the time. Our sex life is great.
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