I always fantasized about fucking two girls at the same time. I never thought it would happen, but sometimes dreams come true when you least expect it.
I met Lorraine through the internet. She had read some of my stories and we exchanged E-mails. We discovered that we were both in unhappy and sexually frustrating marriages. When I had a business trip near where she lived, I asked if we could meet. She said yes, but under one condition. No sex.
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Since the semester began three weeks ago, I haven't seen my dad. My parents' house was a 90-minute car drive away -- close enough to consider a spur-of-the-moment trip every now and then, but too far to do it too often. Classwork was keeping me really busy, too.
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Written for Heather. I love you Babe.
Misty sat on the hard wooden stands under the hot summer sun. Liberally oiled and sun screened, she looked cute in cut-off denim shorts and red, yellow and black Ferrari T-shirt. A matching red Ferrari baseball cap shaded face. Her eyes were protected by wrap-around Raybans followed the brightly coloured cars on the track before her. The noise was raucous even high up in the stands like she was.
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It was a cold, snowy day, and I was sitting at home, alone and bored. My mom had the kids for the day because I was supposed to work, but the office called and said they didn't need me. I puttered around, trying to keep myself busy, but the boredom quickly returned. The thing was, I couldn't stop thinking about her -- about the girl I met last night.
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I had known Diana for over four years, since my husband came to the university here. We've always been friendly in a casual way, never close. We see each other about once every other month, mostly faculty social events involving our husbands. Mine is a bigshot professor, hers is the dean of the college and though they've become pretty good friends over the years, we've never socialized as a foursome.
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"Just like that?" Jill asked incredulously.
"Pretty much so, yeah," the blonde responded.
"Depends on the woman of course," the brunette added.
"And on how much she's had to drink," the small redhead behind the camera added with a smile.
Jill took a swallow of her drink. She was sitting at her usual table at Natalie's Place. She'd been a regular ever since Nat opened the club.
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As my wife Molly and I got into our fifties, things sort of settled down between us. Things of a sexual nature I mean. Neither of us were as slim and trim as we'd been when we'd met forty years before, and though I still considered her my best friend and sexually desirable, she, I believe, began to think she was no longer attractive. I tried to convince her otherwise (I mean, hey, I'm paunchy too!), and though she said she believed me, I knew that deep down inside, she felt somewhat ugly and unwanted.
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The bass is hard. The temperature is hot. "Bar in the front, dancing in the middle, pool in the back...thankfully Aussie pubs aren't much different from American bars." I don't really attract that much attention until I open my mouth and order a coke. Then every eye is on the American with the weird accent ordering a decidedly "wimpy" drink. I shake off the stares with a smile as I peel my glasses off.
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I was soaked. I'd been on my way home, finishing a pleasant walk, when the rain had caught me by surprise. By the time I got back home, my hair was plastered to my head, my clothes were completely soaked, and I was freezing. Shivering, I dug out my keys and opened the door, stepping inside dripping.
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One evening, when I was taking a nap after a long day of productive work, the doorbell rang. I usually didn't open my door unless I was expecting someone, but I guess I was tired, since this time I did it without thinking.
Behind the door were standing three women dressed in identical mannish-looking but femininely cut suits and ties. Two of them were wearing sunglasses even though it was evening and they were indoors.
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