Toxin Handler

The third time may not have been that personally glorious, but today’s experience ensures at some point, I probably will give in to returning to the glory hole. If only because it has been so good three times, each offering a delightful first in turn, and the promise of a fourth is impossible to deny. Though I can’t imagine too much new at this point.
I had entered the booth, put in money, and not much interesting was available to watch, unlike weeks before. But I was still hoping it would work out this time, since it hadn’t the day before. At first, nothing playing on the screen seemed that arousing, with the other booth empty. After a minute of flicking channels, for a true surprise, there was some hot gay porn, a man kissing another man’s nipples so well, then sometimes kissing each other while the one underneath had his nipples rubbed and pinched, then the dark haired one returned to kissing and biting the other’s now hardened nipples luxuriously. My attention was fixed when he began stroking his partner’s rigid cock and tight balls. I was hard too by this point, having enjoyed everything I saw as much as the two on the screen seemed to. The dark haired man on the screen started rimming his now thoroughly turned on friend, and I got still harder. When two horny people are getting off together, the watching rubs off, so to speak, and I sat contentedly stroking myself. But soon enough, it ended, and nothing else interesting was playing. Gay porn does have a certain honesty to it, like the glory hole I was sitting in, hoping for another cock to play and cum with. Strange that after decades getting off only with women or alone, other essentially middle aged men seemed to give so much pleasure when playing with each other’s turned on cocks in a small dark private space, with nothing shared but touch and horniness. And often, glorious orgasms.
For example, cumming when another man touched my erect cock for the first time in my life. It was so good when he made me cum so hard. with no will to stop the ecstasy he was creating. All the while, my on fire mind kept thinking that it was a man touching me, as my legs spread wider, and that I had wanted this and was so turned on pumping into his stroking touch. Then in turn, stroking his long slender cock, the first I had ever felt, to a pumping orgasm in a few seconds, as we were both truly turned on. The second time, I rubbed my hardness against another man’s equally hard and long red turned on cock, finally fulfilling one of my most private and kinky fantasies - cock on cock was a real turn on. He in his turn made me cum pressed against a wall, beyond all thought and restraint, touching me in some unique fashion which didn’t stop until I was pumping myself in glorious pleasure. Again, I did the same to him, though in his case, his cum pumped free with both of my hands around his long thick cock. He was completely unable and unwilling to do anything but cum as I made him pump, feeling his cock swell with every spurt from his balls, looking down at what I was doing to another man whose cock had rubbed mine so sexily.
Writing about such things afterwards is an added kick, unimaginable 20 years ago. It also perfectly reverses the private/public aspect of getting off with another man, completely unknown except for his cock and hand, separated by a wall, and the telling seems to turn some readers on as much as I when doing or writing. This adds to the glory hole kick in an undefinable way, mixing such a perfectly privately secret pleasure with public sharing, and making it even more impossible not to do again. A glory hole has no romance, but in return, it offers incredible orgasms which I can’t imagine a man of 18 or even 25 being able to withstand, watching porn and then getting off. Having another man get you off when you are so horny is simply too good to resist easily, and my interest has kept growing over the last few months. Admittedly, it is simply a better way to jack off, but then, better is irresistible when talking about cumming.
This morning, I had been cutting wood in the ice frosted woods, and since it looked like I could shave my schedule to work, I sort of decided at the last moment to revisit the glory hole. My inhibitions had already been nicely reduced, and my thickening cock seemed to agree that the idea was a good one. I went, but only for a short time, at least I thought. 10:45am is pretty early, though even by this point, my increasing horniness had the answer to any perspective except getting off, if I was luckier than the day before.
After the first few minutes of what to me seemed fairly kinky porn, the time was almost up, and I debated putting in another token as probably being a waste, since nothing had really attracted my fancy on the screen, when I heard someone come in. This had been what I had hoped for, another man to get off with, nothing but hard cocks being stroked and cumming, I thought, my cock in hand.
I put in another token, and he seemed to go to either check out the porn and toys for sale in the shop, or to exchange money. My heart was beating with the chance that another stranger would enter the glory hole with me.
In a minute or two that seemed too long, the door to the other booth opened, closed, and porn started playing. Part of a glory hole’s attraction is that getting into the right frame of mind means not thinking, only enjoying. And you can see what the other person is thinking as his own cock grows, as it is exactly the same thing as your own swelling tool in hand.
I then pulled my pants down, and heard him do the same. After a while flicking through the still uninteresting porn, I opened the slider a small crack, to begin enjoying what I had really come for. Watching an unknown man stroking himself as I stroked my own turned on hot length is one of the basic reasons why glory holes are so intense. The small hole is perfectly positioned to focus your view on nothing but the horny cock on the other side, with its bush of curly hair, balls often hanging free at the edge of the seat, with hairy legs spread in pleasure, loosening or tightening as the pleasure changes. And it is utterly private, at the same time. This privacy is part of what makes a glory hole attractive - you don’t have to be concerned about anything but what both enjoy, without question. Really nothing but hard and stroked cocks, everything swept away in pleasure. A new taste I am quite enjoying. And one I can imagine a woman having a very difficult time understanding - a glory hole is probably one of the most direct and simple methods to get off with another, not only with a stranger, but someone completely unknown, who has exactly the same framework of causing and enjoying orgasms with no complications beyond the cumming. And with exactly the same obligations - none - on both sides.
Some of my first and for that reason best orgasms were with a friend, getting off on porn magazines, which were becoming both easier to find and also more explicit throughout the late 70s. He was the first person that I shared such obvious sexual pleasures with, like getting hard to sexy naked women in pictures, or stroking a cock to orgasm. We never touched, but we would sometimes get hard watching each other stroke, and even watch the other cumming. His cockhead seemed smaller, less flared than mine, but his white length was at least the same as mine. We also stroked ourselves using much the same way technique. We often used Vaseline, a perfect friction if a bit messy, or sometimes with very well lubricated Trojans. He liked to play with his shaft to get hard more than I, but his hand was always tight against his cockhead when he started cumming. However, most of the time, the hot porn which made us hard would have our complete attention when cumming. To be honest, I think most men have had similar experiences with a friend or two - or a stranger or two.
More than twenty years later, it was now becoming more irresistible to watch another cock than it had been then, since now I was playing games together with someone else. Missed chances which only leave hot fantasy behind are a reason I try some of the things I do now. Getting off with other men is something I finally tried, and now really enjoy. And that feeling of pressing against a wall in unstoppable hard glory completely lost in another man’s hands is a strangely intoxicating way to orgasm, a surrender to pleasure unlike anything with a woman. And both the men that did that to me knew exactly what it meant.
After settling in, I opened the slide more, playing with myself and watching him do the same. After a while I slid the panel obviously open for a full view, and we both kept playing, neither of us especially erect, but both turned on, and certainly interested in the same delightful games, it was clear. Cocks really don’t need words, I have discovered. With women, I like to talk and be vocal, and listen to their sexy voices and sounds - in a glory hole, everything is silent, except the porn track(s) and sounds of cocks being stroked and pumped, which tends to fade into the background as we watch each other, and get into a shared rhythm.
There was still nothing interesting playing, which made beckoning for his cock through the opening even easier. The last two men hadn’t taken any advantage of this, so it was satisfying that he got up from his seat, as did I, and his narrow cock came through. After a few minutes of touching and stroking his uncut cock, he pulled back, and his fingers through the opening were a clear invitation. His cock had left an undefinable scent behind, probably my first conscious awareness of another man’s turned on smell. It was interesting but not in any sense overwhelming, as I now turned to the glory hole.
Scent and sex is something which fascinates me. I had showered that morning, but an hour and a half of work in the forest had certainly left its clean scent on me, as had the last 10 or so minutes of stroking myself. Smelling and tasting another man’s cock is still something to experience, but I personally don’t think the complete facelessness of a glory hole is the best place to suck a cock off. Safe games are fine, and while a certain amount of cum is a part of male sex, keeping it incidental and outside is being basically cautious, at least in the sense of playing odds. And sex is always ‘risky’ - it is a matter of degree. For the first time in too many weeks, for the first time smelling another man’s cock scent, I put my cock through into glory. And it felt so good from the first touch, which kept getting better, melting into pleasure which I wanted more of, soon moaning against the wall, my cock rigid and full. This was so good, it was almost impossible to resist cumming, but I finally pulled back out of his glory, moving away from what felt so good, and I beckoned him to come through again, in turn. My cock was hard, but it seemed dry enough when I started stroking it, waiting for him to get his own measure of my glory - his touch had been so good, I could only think of wetness being a part of it. But it seemed not, as I played with my cock while stroking his now harder and redder cock. I wet my fingers, and played with his cock head for several minutes, while it swelled and reddened even deeper, my fingers up against his cockhead, sliding down the shaft and then back up. He was enjoying himself fully, as I had, now pressed tight against the opening, his cock thrusting against my sliding fingers. The colors of a cock are different from a woman’s aroused pussy, more red and white in contrast to bright pink turning wine dark red and even an earth mother brown. But cock is enticing, I find. After a while, having stroked him in rhythm with my own hard heavy cock, he pulled back, and his fingers were again a clear invitation I was eager to accept, my cock stiff.
And this second time, I entered true glory. It felt so good on my cockhead, there was no way to stop the pleasure which grew as my cockhead did. I kept moving forward, my ever hotter cock drawing me on into a paradise created by another man. After a while, I was again moaning to the wall, my ass tight, my cock ever deeper into unstoppable glory. There was no longer any doubt in my almost frozen thoughts - this was a blow job I was getting, and it was so good, it had taken a while to even figure it out. Even the thought that a man was sucking my cock was almost nothing compared to the wonderful thrill of such a talented person sucking my cock, having his warm wet mouth inviting me on deeper and still hotter. As the pleasure became ever more intense, I tried to moan ‘I’m cumming,’ over and over again, but how loud or how understandably was beyond my grasp by that point. I was now flat up against the wall, a stranger making me cum and nothing but sex was filling me. He was sucking me off so good, he made me become nothing but a pumping cock he owned, a cock completely lost in what he was doing to it. He was on his knees with my cock filling his mouth, with no way and no reason for me to stop. And for the first time, now I was sure another man was tasting my cock, turning me on beyond any control with his mouth - and it was so good, I had no idea what was actually happening in terms of technique. I was completely lost in what he was doing to me, without a word being spoken. I had entered a glorious paradise of pleasure, my cock in the mouth of a man with a cock as hard as mine. I could hear his pumping and stroking when my cock came through the opening, and as he first tasted me, and even now, the distant sound of his pumping was part of the web he was weaving with my cock at the center. I was his - another man was on top of my soul, and it was so good to feel what he kept doing to me. My hard cock was what another man wanted, and I was completely his.
At some point beyond measure, I came. At a distant and almost unimportant point, I felt my full balls get deliciously tighter, my cum starting its now unstoppable pumping, but it seemed almost distracting to what he was doing. It was so good and wet and completely surroundng, and it went on and on, and his hunger became apparent to me. He didn’t stop, and kept pleasuring my softening cock in new ways, as my cock kept draining into his paradise, and after a moment of panting, I started pumping his mouth slowly, almost against my will. I couldn’t stop, because he didn’t, and somehow, he owned my cock completely, kneeling before it. If he wanted to suck, I would stay there until he finished, because I certainly couldn’t stop while he was doing this to me. Such a strange sense of power he seemed to have over me - I couldn’t help myself, my cock was starting to stiffen as I pumped ever harder, after a very short pause in the utter relaxation following such a fully consuming orgasm. As he kept on sucking me, my pleasure and his hunger kept merging, and I started fucking his mouth, which seemed to know more of what I wanted than possible, beyond any control but his. He now turned me into his unstoppable pleasure plaything. I had already cum, but his magic was beyond the grasp of anything but my hot sucked cock, which knew what it wanted - more, and more.
After cumming so good, his hunger was a real surprise. I didn’t move back, and slowly, I started to both get hard again and begin to pump his sucking mouth with my content but also now hungrier and growing cock. I have done this fucking women, after cumming, by keeping a rhythm going and not withdrawing from her hot wetness, until I grow hard again and we keep fucking - how turned on the woman is also plays a major part. But now was the first time a man did it, and the first time it happened when getting my cock sucked. After a minute or two, I couldn’t stop myself, and had no desire to do anything but to keep filling his glorious cock-sucking mouth. The wall I was pumping against, flat except for my now thrusting hips, helped focus everything to a tight center, which in turn was all-surrounding, not a center at all. I was lost in glory, and he knew it.
After some point, having been so lost in pleasure, I finally returned to enough mundane presence to stop my mindlessly endless mouth fucking, and to beckon again for his cock. It was hard when he stuck it through, and I stroked it for several minutes, but I was not really together enough to get him off after what he had done to me. He eventually pulled back, and after a minute, I closed the slider, with a certain regret at not being able to return the pleasure. The smell of his uncut cock had been distinctive, and enjoyable as I stoked him and myself, But my wife is quite adamant about risk, and sucking another man’s cock is likely only something to be done with her with someone we both trust and are turned on by, which likely means never. And this temptation, unlike the idea of touching another man’s hardness with my own, remains within reasonable limits.
At this point, I have now played with five cocks at my this glory hole, the only one I know, getting four off, and now, three men have gotten me off in turn. This faceless sex is strange in its way, but a hard orgasm is almost always the result, for one if not both. Nobody who goes into a glory hole wants anything less, after all.
For those who wonder about straight/bi/gay - this was the gayest experience by far, and it was surprising in that sense too. The only porn that got me hot was male/male, and having your cock sucked by a man is wonderfully gay. And by this point, the glory hole is not simply an extra benefit of getting off to porn, it is the reason for getting off. I make no comment about whether someone of the same sex has a better understanding of some things than someone of the other sex, but there is no doubt this was the single best cock sucking I have been privileged to enjoy. Considering how good it was, it was something he had been doing a while, getting other men off with his talent while being so turned on doing it. This I can’t imagine, a cock turning me on so, but in its way, it is probably the same as eating a hot pussy - I enjoy it so much, as have the women, that satisfying my desire to taste and smell means turning her into a quivering fountain of lust, with nothing on her mind but my tongue and fingers, and nothing on my mind but getting off on her getting off. The smell of wet pussy is the best perfume I know, and helping a woman create the finest scent through her pleasure is one of my deepest kicks, as this best of perfumes seems to go straight to my brain, which then wanders away in complete bliss.
When I drove away, it was 11:30 - he had probably been sucking me for more than 20 minutes, which was still almost impossible for my pleasured mind to grasp. At the time, it had seemed only a minute or two.

The intense sun reflected from the white of the tent would have blinded me except for the sunglasses. Stepping out of the car I was struck by the contrasting colors; the rust red cliffs surrounding the valley, the green of the pasture offsetting the brown of the sage brush laden hills in-between, the pure white of the tent and pasture fence, the off white of the parking lot gravel. The first impression of solid colors as my eyes surveyed the hills and valley changed as my eyes adapted from following the blacktop ribbon of the road. Reds blended to browns, browns to grays and greens, greens to grays and browns. Nearer in, the caterers were backed up to the tent unloading food and drinks in preparation for the party about to begin.
“There’s Shelly,” my wife Kathy said “we’re only 20 minutes late. Practically on time, for us” she laughed. “Will you be OK?”
“Of course, I’ll be fine. You just take care of you’ve got to do and I’ll be fine.” Kathy walked off toward Shelly with a wave. I waved back when Shelly’s hand acknowledged me, and then turned my attention back toward the big top. I saw cases of beer, maybe some was already cold. Just what I needed.
The party was a wedding reception. Shelly and her new husband Ken had been married out of town the previous weekend, and this was their big hometown party. Just outside Las Vegas, the location was a perfect “old west” portion of Nevada that gamblers and show goers never see. Maybe fifteen hundred feet above the valley floor, the temperature was definitely cooler than it had been when we left town. The promise of a wonderfully cool but not chilly evening seemed to show that Shelly and Ken knew what they were doing when they planned an outdoor reception in September. Kathy was supposed to help with the guest book and greeting, which left me to fend for myself.
The shade under the tent, in contrast to the bright sunshine outside, made it seem almost dark. I pulled my glasses off, and wandered over toward the boxes of beer and soda. I must have looked obvious; one of the girls said “the cold ones are over there” and pointed to several large tubs of ice – and beer. I took a cold one and slid into a corner to watch the happenings.
Kathy and Shelly had known each other for years. When Kathy was in High School, she had been Shelly’s babysitter during the summers. They had become good friends, and remained so, despite the age difference. Shelly had moved to Las Vegas about 5 years before, but when she called, it was an automatic that we were there. Ken and I had hit it off OK, but we didn’t have twenty years of history behind us. This was their party however; I was just along for the ride.
The caterers were swift and efficient. I soon found that my corner was where the dance floor was to be set up, so my chair departed back to the stack, and grabbing a new beer, I departed to investigate our surroundings and wander the meadow. The uphill slope toward the back of the meadow enticed me to see what was at the far end. I was wondering if it was used for horses or what when I realized I was about to step in a cows calling card that answered my question. It wasn’t fresh, but still, I began to watch my step a little closer.
Approaching the upper edge of the pasture I stopped and looked back and realized we were actually on a steeper hillside than I’d first imagined. The entire valley sloped down from above, optical illusion made it look flat if you didn’t take in the whole picture. Now, from my vantage point several hundred yards further up the hillside, I could see the entire valley and through the pass the still sunlight bathed city of Las Vegas in the far distance. Here the shadows had begun to encroach on the harsh midday sun, and with the shade the temperatures began to ease.
I found a man gate, designed so that humans could step around and through the fence, but animals would be locked in. Stepping through I was instantly into the sage hill. Following the trail for just a few yards I came to the edge of the hill. From there it descended to the next valley. Another pasture was visible in the distance seeming unnaturally green against the dry brown contrast of the sage. This one was complete with cattle. I wondered it they might have been the cows that left the pie I almost found.
A large boulder provided a seat, which I used as I surveyed the valley and hills. The layers in the hills were plainly visible; and like many places in the west the bending and sloping of those layers told of the mighty geologic forces that had created the scenic wonders that we see today. Just over the crest of the hill, the sound of the party creation disappeared, the road noise disappeared, and the sight of Las Vegas disappeared. If not for the fenced pasture and cattle far below, I was probably looking at the land exactly as it had been for thousands of years. But, my beer was gone, and although it was cooling down – it was time for another.
Walking down the pasture I could see the still sparsely populated parking lot had nearly twice as many cars as before. Glancing down the road into town, I could see for maybe ten miles. Whereas before it was empty, now I could see several cars coming our way, and surmised correctly they were all party goers on their way up. I meandered into the tent and found everything now set up, and the first attendees already wandering around and greeting each other.
I grabbed another beer, and found myself waved over by Ken who introduced me to several of his friends and relatives. For the next hour as more and more people arrived the introductions and “So tell me once again, who do you know?” questions occupied my time. My beer gone again, I headed over to the drink area to find a bottle of water. I fished one out of the tub, and turning saw her for the first time.
She was walking across the pasture from the parking area. Her husband walked beside her, each with one two young children in tow. Her medium length black hair contrasted with the white off the shoulder blouse which covered her breasts but even from the distance I could tell left a tremendous amount of cleavage visible. A colorful Mexican style full skirt hid the rest of her body from sight, but somehow I had no doubt that she was well proportioned everywhere. Who was it that she reminded me of? Marisa Tomei? I couldn’t quite place it. A movie….. oh yes, Catherine Zeta Jones in Zorro.
I took my water and moving to a corner table sat and admired the young mother as she and her family found a spot. How old was she I wondered. 28? 30? Easily ten years or more younger than me. The children were what, maybe 5, 6? Yeah, probably 30 was a good guess. Wow. If only I’d met her….” I became distracted by something else, and then the call to “come and git it,” and when I looked back she was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, I was in no hurry and there was plenty of food. Another beer, some more socializing, and then the suggestion that it was time to get in line.
I turned toward the line and as I did, my eyes locked for an instant with those of the young mother. It was one of those fleeting things, one of those instances across a room where you know someone was looking at you, and you know that they know that you know. Her eyes moved, but not before I had seen through her eyes and into her mind, and knew she’d been looking at me. I was instantly sure, but as she didn’t look back immediately, I began to doubt. She’d been looking at me, the faint hesitation, the slight flush of embarrassment as she knew she’d been caught. Had I just imagined it, was it wishful thinking? As I examined her from behind, the gentle curve of her backside where the skirt fell away, the slightly visible bra strap through her white blouse, I found myself fantasizing. She turned; perhaps she felt my eyes examining her. Her gaze swept the tent, and I caught just the slightest of hesitation as she swept across my face, her eyes locking for just an instant with mine.
I became distracted with conversation, but later as I began to glance up toward her again I caught her turning away. Again, one of those slightly awkward movements that said she was looking away because I was looking up, otherwise she wouldn’t have been looking away. “Damn,” I thought, “could she be interested in me? God she’s gorgeous”. The small talk continued around me, distracting, but not so much that I couldn’t observe her and her family. Her husband was ahead of her and the two kids, with them – but yet not. She spoke to the daughter, picked up the son, put him back down and said something to her oblivious husband. He turned, momentarily took the sons hand, and moments later turned away and forgot his son again. Although they stood together, it was obvious they were in two groups: him, and the three of them.
I’d just filled my plate with food when suddenly Kathy was by my side, taking my arm and steering me toward a table where she and our hosts were already sitting. I socialized with everyone, but my mind was on the black haired young mother that had caught my fancy. Kathy had graduated us to drinks of spiked lemonade (or was that diluted vodka?). I emptied mine, and noticed that hers was nearly empty. Taking both, I stood to head toward the drink table for refills. As I looked up, the young mother was picking her way between the tables, a young child in each hand. They arrived at the table where she helped them each get a drink, and bending over to retrieve a bottle of water just as I got there, I was treated to an unobstructed view of her bare chest and cleavage. She straightened up, realizing I was standing and waiting. As her eyes met mine, there it was again. That flash of recognition, the electric spark of desire, the shock of me unexpectedly being so close. She flushed slightly, an awkward pause even though nothing had been said. There it was again, and now I was sure.
“Cute kids” I said, giving her the way out.
“Oh, thanks.” Her voice was as intoxicating as her face. She busied herself getting the kids and their drinks pointed back toward the table.
“Have you tried the lemonade?”
“No, but what I’d really like is something more adult”.
“Trust me,” I said, “this isn’t for the kids.” I took a full glass and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” She started to turn away. “How old are they?” I questioned,
“Johnnie’s three and Jessie’s five”.
“Quite a handful at that age.”
“They wouldn’t be with a little help.” She smiled wistfully at me, turned and began herding her flock back to the table.
There was a wedding cake, toasts, tossing of a garter, all the usual wedding celebration rituals. Throughout, I noticed how to Ken and Shelly there was no one there but each other. I found myself trying to remember the last time Kathy had looked at me like that. Watching as he bent to remove the garter from her leg, I spotted my young mother again, holding her son on her hip, pointing out to her daughter what was happening. I wondered how long it had been since her husband had looked at her that way, or if he ever had.
Eventually the background music became dancing music and the party really began. Bride and groom, and pretty soon everyone else and the floor remained crowded for quite a bit of the evening. As Kathy was busy being a hostess, I was pretty much on my own. I had no problem with that; there were lots of ladies sitting around. I had a congratulatory dance with Shelly, then graduated to just having fun. I’ve always been a pretty good flirt, and had no problem talking anyone I wanted into a dance. Moms, Aunts, cousins, friends – I saw my young mother corralled with her offspring and started moving toward her table. Her husband was standing near by, drink in hand, obviously more enamored with the drink than the party or his wife. I was nearly there when I was snagged by a young teenager, “will you dance with me too?”
I smiled, graciously took her to the dance floor, and when I walked her back to her table stepped over to where I’d really wanted to be. The daughter Jessie was trying to dance with her brother, and I heard the young mother say to her kids “Will you two stay right here for just a moment while I go get another drink?”
“Excuse me, Jessie, may I have this dance?” I said, bending over and offering my hand to her daughter. Her eyes got big and looked up to her mother for permission.
“Go ahead if you want. Take the nice mans hand”
She slipped her hand in mine, and we headed off to the dance floor. I started with her dancing but with bending over, her enthusiasm and lack of experience, we were all over the place. Reaching down I picked her up, set her on my hip and continued to dance around, carrying her the rest of the time. In my peripheral vision I saw people pointing out how I was dancing with this young girl and how enthralled with it that she was. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder and Ken was there. “May I cut in?” He asked, and I slid my young charge over to him. The two of them moved on, and I moved back. A short while later with a change of music I saw Jessie riding someone else’s hip, having the time of her life.
I moved back toward the table, and found that she had also brought me another “lemonade.” “I thought that perhaps you would appreciate another drink” she said, offering it to me. I thanked her saying I had worked up a thirst, and realized I had quite a buzz going from all the alcohol I’d already had. “Jessie had been dying to dance, you really made her night.”
“She’s certainly having a good time.” I paused, for some reason asking her to dance with me made me feel like an awkward teenager at my first dance. I hadn’t felt like that in years. I set my glass on the table, and holding my hand to her said “May I have the honor?”
She started to say she couldn’t but a woman at the table said “Oh go ahead, Honey, we’ll watch Johnnie”. Capitulating, she took my hand.
The first touch of her hand was electric. My fingers wrapped around her hand, gently pulling her with me. It was more than just an escort to the dance floor, although I wasn’t sure where this was going. Her grip returned mine, her hands soft; my hand burned from her touch but yet her fingers were cool from the icy glass. Moving around a chair I looked up and spotted Kathy across the way, and guiltily looked away. She’d been busy talking and hadn’t seen me, but I felt like I was already cheating on her. Although I’d danced with multiple women this night, none had I desired as this one.
The music stopped just as we reached the floor. Some began to walk off, others just waited and when the next selection started it was the first slow dance in quite some time. “Yes!” I thought. I couldn’t have planned this any better.
Stopping, I turned and she stepped into my arms. Sliding into the crook of my arm, her breasts resting against my chest, I put my hand behind her back and began to propel her around the floor. Her hair was just below my nose, her smell filled my nostrils. I breathed deeply. Sensing my inhale, she asked “What’s that?”
“I was enjoying your smell. It’s more intoxicating than the lemonade”.
She laughed. “I haven’t had anyone say anything that nice to me in quite some time”.
“Everything about you is intoxicating. Your hair….your smell….your touch.” I paused then continued. “Your beauty. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you all night.”
“I saw you looking at me.”
“And I saw you looking back.” She didn’t respond.
“Have you seen the way Ken and Shelly have been looking at each other all night?”
“The one that says ‘I adore you’ and that someone is going to get laid tonight?”
I laughed. “Exactly.” I chuckled again. “When was the last time your husband looked at you that way?”
“I can’t remember.” The music came to an end, and immediately rolled into a faster song. Stepping back, I was now able to see my partner, watch her as I spun her, pulled her close, and moved away again. She was good, I was good. We moved together as if we’d been partners for years.
Finally the music came to an end, and the dj’s voice came across, “And by request, for Ken and Shelly,” and “Slow Dancing” began. Pulling her to me, I felt her breasts rubbing against me once more as she caught her breath. Once more her perfume filled my nose.
“God I love your smell,” I whispered so only she could hear. “If you were mine, I’d still look at you that way, like Ken looks at Shelly.” She didn’t respond, but I knew she was hearing me. “You’ve intoxicated me since I first saw you walking up from the parking lot. I can’t get enough of looking at you, feeling you rub against me.” I said nothing for a few moments. “If you were mine, I’d look at you with the look that says “someone is going to get laid tonight” every night.” We continued to dance, “…just me and my gal….” in the background. “My god, you’re beautiful”.
“It’s been a long time since someone said that to me.” Her whisper, as mine, just loud enough for me to hear.
“I love looking at you. Your hair. Your face.” I’d been looking over her head, but as I looked down, I was looking between her breasts, her cleavage begging me to look. I felt my cock stir, but there was nothing I could do. “Your breasts are beautiful.” Shit, I suddenly realized I was out of control.
“I’m sorry.”
She giggled. “You’re drunk.”
“I think I am. But you’re still beautiful. And sexy. And so are you’re breasts.”
“Shhh. Not so loud, I can tell what you are thinking,” and pressed her belly tighter against me. I realized my hardening member was between us, her pressing against me left no doubt that she could feel me.
Suddenly I knew what I was going to do. I heard my mouth, seemingly speaking of its own volition, “When this dance ends, I’m going over to the drink table and get a vodka lemonade. I’m going to drink that lemonade, and then I’m going to the bathroom, right over there.” We’d turned, and she was facing the portable restrooms that had been provided. “And when I come out I’m going to step off the far side where it’s dark and walk up the pasture. At the far end is a gate and a rock and I’m going to go up there. If you were to go back to your table and wait about 5 minutes after I go to the bathroom you could follow me up there.” The music stopped and I stepped back, thanking her for the dance.
She looked into my face, and said “thank you.” I looked back, thinking how beautiful I thought she was and glanced down at her chest as she watched me. Her nipples were visibly protruding through her blouse.
“10 minutes.” I released her hand, she turned toward her table, I turned toward the drink table, suddenly realizing I needed to go to the restroom.
I took a moment in the restroom to wet a paper towel and wash my face. I could feel the salt from dried perspiration from the dancing on my face. It didn’t help the fuzzy headed feel, but my face felt better. I stepped out and off the porch into the dark. I’d expected it to be much darker than it was, the bright moon had been camouflaged by the floodlights of the party. I stopped allowing my eyes to become a bit more accustomed. Glancing back into the party, she wasn’t looking toward me. I wondered if she would come.
I walked toward the far end of the pasture. I don’t think I found any cow pies, realized it was dark enough that even if I did I might not know it. Walking through the gate, a few steps to the boulder, and I sat down. The valley below, bathed in the moonlight was visible but yet unintelligible. Had I not seen it during the daylight, I probably wouldn’t have recognized the squared fences or the black dots of the cows for what they were. I don’t know how long I’d been there, when suddenly I heard her voice.
“Are you there?”
“Over here,” I answered. “Follow the trail”. She suddenly appeared through the dark, her white blouse practically fluorescent in the moonlight.

Anne was a constant playmate of ours for nearly a year before I found them together alone. I was five months pregnant and had only begun to show. Even in my state, I was delirious with desire. I had written Phillip a sensual poem, which I could not wait to share. I hastened to his room through the secret passages and tunnels he had shown me. I stopped short of pushing open the door into his chambers. I pushed the door ajar slightly. A gentle moaning made its way to my ears. There I saw Anne bent over Phillip’s desk, his royal staff firmly planted within her firm backside.
The heat rose into my cheeks, my chest rose and fell, each breath threatening to give me away. Phillip flipped her over, her legs spread wide open. She held them thusly as he slid within her slickness. He grunted and moaned as he spilt his seed within her. He hungrily kissed her lips. She giggled and wrapped her arms and legs around him as they kissed. He ran his mouth over her throat. Tears stung at the backs of my eyes. They burned hot, rolling over my cheeks, soaking into the high collar of my gown. Fury welled up within me, my hands clenched into balls by my sides. I wanted to hit them. I wanted to watch Lady Anne bleed for her betrayal.
I watched as she kissed down his belly, taking his flaccidness into her mouth, sucking and licking at him. He ran his hands through her hair as she sat upon her knees, closing his eyes. She encircled the tip with her tongue, her hand fondling him, playing over his flesh. He laughed at her, sucking in sharply when she took him fully into her mouth. He grew stiff under her touch. I knew all too well how her hands could bring one to wanting more. Yes, even when you thought you were sated, she could make you cry out and beg for more.
I tried to hold my tears in, to stifle the hate that boiled within my blood. I wanted to rip her eyes out, to scratch at her pretty skin, to tear her golden hair from her head. I watched as she smiled up at him, as she rubbed him against her soft cheek. Her tongue lapping up and down. Her lips kissing his thighs, and stirring his blood. Phillip yanked her to her feet and brought his lips to hers, devouring her mouth. Anne leaned up against his desk, basking in his touch. His fingers toyed and pricked at each pert nipple. His lips suckled her throat and nibbled her ears. I could hear the soft moans escaping her lips, those two beautiful lips that I had known as my own. She was mine as surely as Phillip had been.
She thrust her chest out to meet Phillip’s lips as his tongue darted over each nipple. Anne arched her back and sucked in a sharp breath as his teeth grazed her flesh. Anne’s slender fingers came down to carress beneath her curls, her fingers fluttered wildly and Phillip smiled with smug satisfaction to watch this angel pleasure herself. His hands ministered to her prickled skin, the gooseflesh brought on by his every touch. She moaned and writhed, the waves of warmth spreading through her body.
Phillip grabbed her legs and shoved her onto her back across the desk. He thrust mercilessly into her as her head thrashed from side to side, the tiny moans crescendoing into one long release. Phillip pounded away at her, not the loving way at which he made love to me. There was passion in the way their skin slapped together as he slammed into her over and over again. There was anamilistic urgency. He thrust hard into her, pushing her body nearly sliding her off the desk. He would jerk her back and thrust ever harder, until at last he slammed hard writhing above her, kissing her lips and fondling the pliable flesh of her backside.
I heard the sound of my voice, “A DIOS MIO, Oh My God!” I felt my hand slam the door open. I tore over to the pair and slapped her across the face. She scrambled for her clothes, a mask of confusion descending over her brow.
“A DIOS MIO!” I screamed it over and over again. “BRUJA! Witch!” I cried.
“How dare you!” I spat at his feet.
Phillip made no apologies, nor did he scramble to dress. He stood watching the scene unfold. I grabbed her hand; tears began to stream down her face. “BRUJA!” I screamed, “May the Diablo take you to hell!”
My eyes flashed to Phillip’s dagger, it lay jutting precariously from the heap of clothes on the floor. I reached for it. She fought against me trying to get away. I wrapped my hand around her golden hair. Dragging her by her tresses, I struggled to get my free hand around the hilt of the dagger. Anne sobbed and struggled to get my hand free from her beautiful thick hair. I slapped her cheek, my hand causing a red mark to spread across her ivory face.
Her body shook, her nakedness, her vulnerability very apparent to me. “Your highness,” her voice quivered. “Your highness please…”
She pleaded, her hands clasped. I slapped her again, the other cheek now stained red from this new blow. At long last, I gripped the dagger within my free hand. When Phillip saw the dagger in my hand, he made a move to stop me.
I slashed at him, “I hate you!” I screamed. I gnashed my teeth and a terrible roar came forth my chest.
“Juana, my dark angel.” He cooed at me as one coos at a frighten animal. “Give me the dagger”
“I hate you,” I screamed again as the dagger slashed at him, cutting his hand. He wrapped his torn flesh with the shirt that lay on the floor, but he was too late. I had already begun to damage the beautiful lady Anne. I brought the blade down in a sawing motion at her hair, that beautiful golden hair. The dagger ripped her hair, the strands floating to the floor like spun gold. Lady Anne wailed as I pulled her hair taut and sawed it off her head.
Phillip grappled with me, his hands struggling to get me off Anne. He tried to get the dagger out my hands. “I’ll rip your bastard of a child from my belly,” I screamed at him, “I hate you! I will not give birth to the son of Satan” I kicked and scratched at him. I spit in his face. I made attempts to stab at my protruding belly. His hand held fast to my wrist.
My screams mingled with Lady Anne’s wailing brought in the king’s guard. Together with Phillip, they pried the dagger from my hands. Conveying me to the bed in his chambers, the guards held me down as I spit and writhed. I watched as Phillip helped that whore to her feet. As he helped her dress, I cussed and spit at the soldier’s. They held me gingerly, holding in high regard the heir I carried within my womb. I laughed at the mess I had made of the lovely Lady Anne. A bruise was forming on her cheek where I had slapped her viciously. Her hair was chopped off in random jagged edges. Her eyes were rimmed with red from her crying. I laughed until tears began to form in my eyes. Why was Phillip seeing to her, that whore? I was his beloved, was I not?
“Take her to the North Tower,” Phillip commanded. “That way, she can’t hurt herself.” They lifted me up.
“Phillip!” I called, “Phillip, why are you doing this to me?” I kicked and screamed. One guard lost his grip on my leg and received a blow to the face. They carried me as one would have carried a carpet. Two held my upper body and two my lower body, they wrapped my skirts tight against my body with the pulls from the bed they tied my feet and arms together.
“That oughtta do it.” A guard nodded to them.
“Send word to Queen Isabella.” Phillip snapped at one of his men. “Tell her to come and take this crazy bitch home.”
I had deceived myself. I had thought I had found true love in the one place I knew true love never could exist, in the Castles of Kings and Queens.

I always wondered whether or not I would truly enjoy seeing my wife with another man. I knew that mentally it excited me, but if it were to really happen, would I be able to handle it afterwards? I guess the answer is yes, as I am sharing this story and we are still happily married…
Even though I am only 30, when I was younger, I always had fairly liberal girlfriends. So when I met my wife and later married her, it was a constant frustration for me as she was not as open to some of the sexual positions I had grown accustomed to in my younger years. It probably took about 2 or 3 years before she would try the things I thought were important in a relationship, such as blowjobs and fucking from behind. And when she finally got more comfortable over time, these things didn’t happen as often as I hoped they would.
Nonetheless, things would soon change. Little did I know that a vacation would change her forever! And little did I know it would be with the help of a complete stranger…
So there we were, stranded on the side of the highway at 7 o’clock at night. The traffic was so scarce, that we thought we were going to have to sleep in the car for the night. We were getting a bit hungry, and all we had in the car were 24 Vodka coolers we bought before we left home. We had a cell phone, but it was completely dead thanks to my wife not charging the battery that morning like I asked. We figured that because it was a holiday weekend, most people were already where they needed to be, and weren’t traveling the highways.
We started drinking the Vodka coolers as there was nothing else to do or eat. We needed something in our stomachs, even though we knew they would go straight to our heads with no food to eat with them. Nonetheless, we each had about 6 or 7 over the next hour and a half. Now it was starting to get dark. The odd car went by every 15 minutes or so, but nobody was stopping, not that I would have either. But to our eventual surprise, along came a big rig truck with no trailer on the back. We could tell that he was slowing down, and he ended up stopping about a hundred feet ahead of our car, not even taking the time to pull off to the side of the road.
Both my wife and I ran up to the passenger side of the truck and I climbed up the foot rails and starting talking with the truck driver through the window. He asked where we were headed, and I told him we were not from around here and just need to get to a hotel for the night, and get our car towed to a service station to be looked at. He told me that he could drive us to a town just before the turn-off to his destination. He said he couldn’t call on his CB radio because it broke the day before. Given that we were desperate and had been waiting almost 3 and a half hours with no other offers, I agreed and he unlocked the door and we climbed in. It was only about 10 minutes later that things got strange.
The truck driver started asking my wife weird personal questions, who not wanting to offend the generous driver, answered to the best of her ability, without sharing too much information. I noticed her looking at me a couple of times as if to say “does he really expect me to answer that?”, and yet after some silence, she surprisingly did. My guess is that she didn’t see the harm as we would never see this guy again anyway, and he did not even know our names (not to mention she was ¾ drunk from the Vodka coolers). I myself didn’t even feel the need to stop the guy as my own mental state was less than perfect.
And then it happened! He looked my wife dead in the eyes… “Has your husband ever made you cum so hard it gushed out of you”? My wife looked over at me with shock and a little bit of fear, and before I could even say anything, the truck driver said “I’ll take that as a NO”!
“It’s possible for all women to do it you know” he said as he sat back in his seat.
“I don’t care. This is an inappropriate conversation to be having” my wife replied.
“I’m sorry, but aren’t you just a bit curious how it would feel?” he asked.
At that point the truck driver sat forward and looked at me. He could tell his question had ME curious, even though it appeared to offend my wife. And unfortunately, my wife could tell was curious too.
“Are you actually interested in what this guy is saying?” she asked me with a strange look on her face.
“I would be lying if I said no.” I replied. I thought a slap across the face would soon follow. But to my surprise, she just stared at me for a moment and then turned to the truck driver.
“I’ll play along with you idiots” she told him. “So what’s your secret for making a girl cum?”
“You’re not listening” he told her. “It’s not just a regular orgasm, you actually squirt cum from your pussy.”
“That’s impossible, girls don’t cum like that!” she replied. “Guys blow their loads because they have balls!”
That’s when I piped up. “I think she’s right. Women don’t have the equipment to make cum, so there is no way they can squirt. You have been watching too many fake porno movies dude.”
“I don’t pretend to understand it, I just know it is possible because I have made lots of women do it” he replied.
That’s when he pulled the big rig over to the side of the road. My wife began to laugh and asked him “Are you pulling over to demonstrate, or to pee.”
My mind was racing a mile a minute. I couldn’t believe she asked him that! And I couldn’t get the images out of my head of my wife cumming so hard that she would milk all over the place! My cock was rock hard as I thought about it. She could tell by looking at me from the corner of her eye that I was aroused. My heart was beating louder than the radio, waiting for the truck driver’s response.
“I’d gladly demonstrate but I’ll need a volunteer” he said with a serious look. The truck driver peered over at me and he could tell I wanted her to do it, but at the same time he could tell that I was afraid of the process, and how I might react. “And just so you know, it’s all in the hand… I don’t need to fuck her…” he told me, trying to set our minds at ease.
I could tell my wife was pondering the situation. And to this day I’m not sure if it was the alcohol, her knowing I was excited by the idea, the fact that she did not have to have sex with him, or a combination of the three.
“Alright hot shot” she said, “Show me!” She gave me a look as if to say “you asked for this, I hope you can handle it…” Then the truck driver turned toward me and leaned against the driver door. He told my wife to turn around and lean her back against him. Now we were getting somewhere. I felt a little sick inside with the anticipation. I looked at the truck driver, as my wife was lying against his chest, both of them facing me. She was slouched down a bit and he had his arms around her chest. By this time it was very dark out, but the moon was bright and the dim interior lights of the cabin were more than bright enough for the pending show.
He started to move his hands down my wife’s chest and over her tits. He kept working them down and used his left hand to tug the front of her pants upward. My wife was wearing gray cotton stretch pants that were tight on her legs and ass, but stretched more than enough to let his hand in. I was on the edge of my seat, not knowing whether to stop them or let them continue. It’s a good thing we were both drunk or I probably would have lost it.
With his left hand holding her pants away from her pussy, his right hand had swept down across her pubic hair, and even though I could not see his hand anymore, I could tell his fingers had entered her. She began to move around a little as he rubbed her clit. He was clearly skilled with his hands, and you could tell my wife thought so too. She began moaning a bit, and the crotch of her pants was getting a little wet with her juices. All I could see was the shape of his fist under the front of her pants as the stretchy material conformed to the exact shape. He continued moving his hand up and down, in and out.
My wife was trying to hide from me the fact that she was enjoying herself. Even though she was drunk, I could tell she was worried about my ability to cope. But she soon gave in to the pleasure, and could no longer spare my feelings. She started licking her lips, biting her bottom lip, and moaning deeper and deeper, the same way she did when I was screwing her in our bed at home.
She put one of her arms above her head and reached behind the truck driver’s neck. She was bracing herself for the ride. I decided I wasn’t getting a good enough view at this point and put my hands on her hips and started to slide her pants off. I pulled them down to her ankles so she could spread a bit more. And with that the truck driver’s left hand was free again. After he got it wet from her pussy, he moved it slowly up to her tits, leaving a glistening trail of wetness I could see in the dim light. He continued up her neck, over her chin and slid his middle finger into her mouth. She started licking and sucking his finger as if it was a cock. I was hoping she was imagining my cock not his.
Then the truck driver said “It’s time…” And he started moving his hand differently in her pussy. My wife started moaning and bucking her hips violently. I could tell she was on the edge.
“Oh my god!” she screamed. “That feels so good!” and she used her free hand to grab the truck driver’s wrist and started thrusting his fingers into her pussy.
“I found her g-spot, and that’s the secret” he said to me. “I could make her cum right now if I wanted to.”
“Make me cum, make me cum now” she moaned. My wife and I didn’t even notice during her thrashing that the guy had undone his pants and zipper.
“But what do I get?” he asked her. “Shouldn’t I get something out of this?” He was starting to rub his cock against the cheeks of her ass and her inner thigh as she laid sprawled across him. Occasionally I could see it poke up between her legs. It was getting covered in her juices. I bet it felt like he was fucking her, even though he wasn’t. My wife reached between her legs and starting grabbing at his dick but she was still bucking up and down from the pressure he was putting on the inside of her cunt with his fingers, and it slipped from her grasp each time. She knew he was in control. But he remained good to his promise, as he hadn’t fucked her or even tried to. He had a lot more control than I would have in his shoes.
My wife was seriously enjoying herself now. He kept bringing her to the edge and then easing off a bit. It was driving my wife wild. I got the impression that she would have let him do anything, even things that she wouldn’t let me do! And a few minutes later I realized I was right!
“I’ll do anything if you just let me cum!” she moaned and whispered over and over. They were now talking as if I wasn’t even there. “Just finish me off p-l-e-a-s-e!” And with that, he really started flicking his fingers in her pussy. I could see her skin rise in the front of her pussy and it looked like he was going to poke through from behind her pubic hair. She was still thrusting his hand in and out, and his cock was still popping up now and then between her legs. With each downward rub I knew he was sliding his dick through her ass cheeks, simulating the feeling of a fuck. Her juices were providing the necessary lubrication.
All of a sudden my wife looked at me with a face I have never seen before. It was a face of extreme pleasure and fear of the unknown. She pulled his hand out of her just in time for the milky white flood of cum to pour out of her. There must have been a quarter gallon of cum gush out of her with quite a bit of force. It went about 3 inches in the air and some landed on her pubic hair. The rest ran out her pussy and down the cheeks of her ass and thigh, covering his dick with white slime. I actually came in my pants from the sight of it all.
And then I realized he knew what he was doing all along. He had my wife lean against him for a reason. Once her milky cum covered every inch of his average sized cock, he slid it upwards and rubbed it on her clit. She went wild again and some more cum flowed out of her. On his down stroke, you could tell he was going to take his reward. His cock came back upward against my wife’s anus. The head of his penis pushing against the opening of her ass. The white slime served its purpose and his cock broke through with little effort. My wife moaned deeper than I have ever heard. This was a new experience for her as she never let me enter her ass. Her eyes closed and she started taking deep breaths.
The truck driver pumped her ass only 5 or 6 times before pulling his cock out. You could tell her tight ass was too much for him. She reached down in front of herself and grabbed his cock with her hand and began to jerk on it. It only took 3 or 4 strokes and the guy blew his load into the air His cock was pointed up and towards the two of them and his load landed mostly on her stomach, but the first shot actually went up past her face and drops of cum were on her cheek and neck. He used one of his hands and scooped his cum from her stomach and slid it up her chest, over her tits and into her mouth.
I was mortified. If I was lucky enough to get an occasional blowjob from my wife, she never swallowed my cum. She always pulled away just before I blew my load. And yet I was watching another guy fuck her in the ass followed by her swirling his load around in her mouth before swallowing it down. Licking each of his fingers clean.
She clearly had the biggest and longest orgasm of her life. But more would soon follow as I learned the technique soon afterwards. From that night onward, my wife did anything asked. I controlled her by not letting her cum until I was getting what I wanted, each and every time.
My only recommendation to those of you who learn to make your wives or girlfriends squirt cum is to make sure you have a spare set of sheets ready for when you are done!

Melanie didn’t even see him coming.
Once second she was driving her car in downtown Tucson, minding her own business, then, while stopped for a red light, the passenger door of her car was yanked open and a man slid onto the passenger seat and pointed a gun at her.
“Shut up and drive.” the man said. He twisted around to look over his shoulder. “Come on. Get moving.”
“You can take my money, you can have my car. Just let me go!” Melanie pleaded.
“Listen lady.” The man said. “I ain’t after your money, or your car, or your body. Get this heap moving and I’ll get out in a few blocks.”
Melanie stepped on the gas and drove. “What do you want?” She asked after a couple of blocks. “Where are you taking me?”
The man shook his head tiredly. “I’m not a rapist or a thief,” he said. “I’m trying to get away from here before they find us. If you get me to the edge of town, just drop me off and I’ll be gone from your life.”
As Melanie lost the first edge of her terror, she noticed that her unwelcome passenger was genuinely terrified of whatever he was trying to get away from. He constantly checked the mirrors and turned around to watch behind them.
“I… I’ll just let you off up here OK?” she started to slow the car to make the turn into a grocery store parking lot.
“Fuck that!” exclaimed the man. “Keep going.” With the barrel of his gun pointing at her right eye, Melanie had little choice but to comply.
“Listen up,” the man said. “If they catch us, they’ll kill me, and then they’ll kill you too, just for being with me.”
“Who will kill you?” Melanie asked. “And why would they kill me?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” the man said.
“Try me,” replied Melanie.
Her passenger sighed and shrugged. “OK you asked for it. I stumbled upon a human sacrifice going on up on Mount Lemmon. They were trying to call up a demon I guess.”
“What did you do?” Melanie asked.
“What could I do?” the man smiled mirthlessly. “The girl on the altar was dead, her heart had been cut out and was being held up for all to see. So I turned and ran.”
“That sounds like the sensible thing to do.” Melanie said.
“Except that I made too much noise getting out of there and they came after me.” Said the man. “I’ve been running ever since.”
“What about calling the cops?” Melanie asked logically.
“I tried that.” The man said. “But when the cop showed up, there was a woman waiting at the convenience store phones where I was standing. The cop didn’t say a word, he just shot her, then turned the gun on me.”
“Oh my God,” said Melanie in a hushed voice. “What happened then?”
“I threw my backpack in his face, then slugged him and took his gun.” The man said. “I didn’t stop for anything, I just ran and hid until I climbed into your car.”
“Well, what are you going to do now?” Melanie asked.
“Get as far away from here as I can, and hope that they don’t follow.” Her passenger replied. “Best if you don’t know too many details.”
Melanie saw the man put his gun in his lap and slump his shoulders. She made up her mind. “I’ll take you to Nogales. You can cross the border there and disappear into Mexico.”
Her passenger looked at her oddly. ‘Why would you go to so much trouble for me?”
“If what you say is true, ” answered Melanie. “Then you need help badly. If not, I’d just as soon have you out of the country so I never have to see you again.”
He just nodded and checked the mirrors again.
Melanie swung onto I-19 and headed south toward the border.
As Tucson disappeared behind them, her passenger relaxed slightly. “Mike,” he said.
Melanie threw him a questioning look.
“My name is Mike.” He said.
“My name is Melanie.” She didn’t know why she had told him her name.
Mike sat up straight as she took the exit to the small town of Tubac. “Where are we going?”
“A friend’s place to hole up for a while.” Melanie said. “If you wait to cross the border until this evening with the crowds, you will be harder to spot.”
“Good idea.” Was all Mike had to say.
Melanie pulled up to a house on the outskirts if town and parked. “We’re here.”
Mike waited for her to get out of the car before he exited. He followed her up to the door and watched her open the lock.
“What now?” he asked as she led him onto the living room.
“Now we have a drink or three and wait.” Melanie said with a half smile.
Mike ran his fingers though his hair. “I’m so damn sorry that I dragged you into this.”
He reached into his belt and handed the gun to her butt first. “You know how ton use this?”
“I point it at the bad guys and keep pulling the trigger until it goes click instead of bang. Right?” Melanie quipped as she took the gun.
“You’ve been watching too many bad movies.” Mike laughed.
Melanie laid the gin on the fireplace mantle, and then went into the kitchen. “What do you want to drink?” she called through the open doorway.
“Anything cold.” Mike called back.
He sagged onto the couch, then leaned back and stretched his legs out.
Melanie came back into the living room with a cold bottle of beer for him, and a scotch on the rocks for herself.
Mike took the beer from Melanie, then watched as she settled onto the couch sideways, tucking her feet up under her as she faced him. “Cheers.” He said, raising his bottle in a mock salute to her.
Melanie raised her glass. “Cheers.” Then took a long swallow.
“So what do you do for a living?” Mike asked.
“I’m in acquisitions,” Melanie replied. “I find things for my boss so that he doesn’t have to go looking for them himself.”
Melanie finished off her drink in one long swallow, then set the glass on the coffee table. “I’m going to go take a shower,” she announced as she stood up. She turned her back to Mike and looked back over her shoulder. “Would you mind unzipping this?”
Mike reached up and pulled the zipper from her neck to the small of her back, noting that there was no bra under that rather severe looking dress.
“Thank you!” Chirped Melanie with a bright smile, then she trotted off toward the bathroom.
Mike heard the shower start to run, and heaved himself up off the couch to se if there was any more beer in the fridge.
He was almost through with the second beer when Melanie came back, wearing only a towel around her body, and another around her head.
“Your turn,” she said
Mike stood and plucked at his clothes. “Can I wash these after I get showered?” he asked. “I hate to put on dirty clothes after I get my body clean.”
“Just put them outside the bathroom door, and I’ll take care of them>” Melanie said.
Mike nodded and headed for the bathroom.
After a long hot, relaxing shower, Mike wrapped a towel around his waist and went looking for Melanie and his clothes.
“Your clothes are still in the washer.” she said when he came back into the living room. “Along with my dress.”
Mike sat down on the couch again and stretched. “Thanks,” he said. “You didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”
Melanie waved a hand in dismissal of the idea. “It isn’t that much of a bother.”
“I’m going for another drink,” she said. “Do you want something?”
“Another beer if you would please.” Mike said. Melanie stood up, but stumbled. Mike lunged forward to catch her before she fell.
“Careful there,” he said. Then he noticed where his hands were. He hastily set her upright and let go of her as if she was red hot.
“Christ, I’m sorry.” He stammered.
Melanie just smiled and let her towel drop. “I was wondering what it would take to get your attention.” She put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down onto the couch. “I haven’t had any sex for a while, and this is just too good an opportunity to pass up.”
Mike automatically put his arms around her as she settled comfortably into his lap. ‘Are you sure?” he asked hoarsely.
In answer she took his head in her hands and pulled his face to her breasts.
“Oh yesss.” She hissed as Mike started kissing and sucking on her nipples.
Mike ran his hand up her inner thigh as she obligingly spread her legs to allow him freer access. His fingers slipped easily into her pussy, She was already wet and very hot inside. His thumb strummed her clit as his fingers pumped in and out of her body.
Melanie slid off his lap to her knees between his legs. Mike moaned as her lips closed around his cock and her tongue started working along the underside of his shaft. She bobbed her head back and forth, taking him a deeply into her mouth and throat as she could, then pulling back to flick her tongue around the head of his cock
Mike put his hands on her head, and guided her, making her take him deeper and deeper until she was taking nearly all of his cock into her throat. Melanie didn’t try to resist. She was relishing the taste and feel of him, giving herself over to him completely.
When she sensed that he was about to come, she stood up abruptly and turned to kneel on the couch, holding on to the backrest. Mike needed no further encouragement. He stood behind her and gripped her hips as his cock slid deep into her waiting pussy.
“Give it to me deep and hard.” Melanie moaned as she arched her back to take more of him into her.
Mike started thrusting deep, hitting bottom on about every third stroke. Melanie’s pussy started clenching rhythmically around his shaft as the first of a series of climaxes swept through her body.
“Goddamn you’re tight.” Mike said between clenched teeth. “it feels so fucking good!”
“My ass.” Melanie gasped. “Put it in my ass.”
Mike eased out of her pussy and used his cock head to smear her pussy juices all over her puckered asshole. He carefully pressed his cock head against her anal opening, trying to go slow and not hurt her.
Melanie was in no mood to wait. She lunged back against him, driving his erection deep into her bowels. She lowered her head for a moment, relishing the mixed pain and pleasure of being so full of his cock.
Mike reached up and took a handful of her still damp hair and pulled back, forcing her onto his cock even further. He could feel her anal ring like a tight band sliding down his shaft as he impaled her on his cock.
Melanie was moaning and moving, but her moans were sounds of pleasure, not pain, and her movements were designed to keep him as deep in her as possible.
Mike started fucking her in earnest then, feeling his balls slapping against her pussy as he slammed his cock into her as hard as he could. With his free hand, he spanked her ass from time to time, feeling her clench around his erection every time his palm hit her butt cheeks.
When Melanie came especially hard, Mike buried his cock up her ass to the roots and felt his cock twitch and jerk as he sent spurt after spurt of come to splash against her anal walls.
Mike’s knees were rubbery and he had to pull out of her and sit down.
Melanie snuggled beside him for a bit, murmuring endearments in his ears.
After a while, She got to her feet and tugged him toward the bedroom. They sprawled on the bed with her head on his shoulder. Mike fell asleep within moments.
When she was sure that Mike was sound asleep, Melanie slipped from the bed without waking him. She went to the kitchen and picked up the phone.
“Master? You can stop looking for our little runaway. I have him at the Tubac house. He’s sound asleep and should stay that way until you get here.”
She listened to the person on the other end of the line for a moment.
“No, he doesn’t suspect a thing. He’ll make a good strong sacrifice. Well worth the effort.”
Melanie hung up and unlocked the front door for her friends. Then she went back to the bedroom and lay down beside Mike, watching him sleep.
*What a waste* she thought. * Too bad. But our Master must have his due.*
That night, as Mike lay chained to the stone Altar, Melanie leaned over and brushed his lips with hers. “This will all be over soon,” she whispered. “You will wait for me in the hall of the Master in the next world. And we can love each other through eternity.”
Then the High priest stepped forward with the ceremonial dagger, and the time for talking was over. The time for screaming had begun.

TUESDAY
GAMMA GAMMA GAMMA
MIDNIGHT
It was a Tuesday night at Green College, and most of the campus was fairly dead. Wednesday nights were Greek Meetings, so partying war standard fare then. Thursday nights meant the weekend was almost near, so partying was standard fare. Friday and Saturday nights were weekend nights, so partying was an obligation. Sundays were usually spent in recovery, while Mondays were reserved for denial - the weekend couldn’t be over already. But Tuesday nights were usually spent doing the work that had been put off since the previous Tuesday night, meaning that Calhoun Avenue, where the Greek houses sat, were usually devoid of the standard debauchery for a single night.
There were few, of course, for which this didn’t quite hold true.
“Damn it, Dunny,” Mason cursed his partner as he watched the ping-pong ball bounce across the basement floor after ricocheting off of one of the plastic cups. “Seriously, I think I would have done better alone.”
Donovan Groom looked hurt. Standing nearly six feet tall, Dunny was not a short guy. And yet, despite having a six-foot wingspan, he still managed to be just out of reach for almost every single shot, allowing the ping-pong ball to strike its target nearly every time. His dirty-blonde hair sculpted to perfection, it was obvious that Dunny had spent more time styling his hair than he had practicing his Pong game.
“Whatever,” Dunny replied to his partner. “It’s not like they didn’t sink a ball on your watch.”
Mason looked at his friend in disbelief. “Dunny, there were SIX cups out there. Jessa sunk ONE fucking ball on me. Every other hit or sink that they got was on you.” Mason put his paddle down and headed away from the pong table to the bar. Despite the fact that he’d just downed three beers because of Dunny’s poor playing, Mason wanted more.
Mason himself was a big guy, standing 6′5″ and weighing close to 240 pounds, all muscle. He had close-cropped brown hair, just enough to look good, but yet not enough that it needed to be awarded any special attention. The stubble on his face echoed the same relaxed attitude that the rest of appearance demonstrated - Mason didn’t make any attempt to look good. It was all natural.
“You know, you should give him break,” Jessa West said to Mason from the far side of the pong table. Every word she spoke carried a slight country twang; born and raised in Tallahassee, Jessa was the quintessential Southern belle. She was a little short, but what she lacked in height she made up for in other ways, with her beautiful smile, her bright-blue eyes, her ample breasts, or her chin-length, baby blonde hair. Jessa had been born a debutante, and here at Green, she had followed through on that image by pledging Epsilon Chi - the richest, snootiest, and hands-down most attractive sorority on campus. “After all, it’s probably not his fault. It’s not like Dunny is bad at pong…”
“It’s just that we’re so damn good,” Cat McIntyre finished the thought.
Originally from Big Apple, Nebraska, Catherine Candace McIntyre had come a long way to go to college. Very few people in her high school’s graduating class had even made it into college, let alone one in New England, let alone one as elite as Green College. She was tall, taller than most girls, with long brown hair that was currently just up in a ponytail. With deep brown eyes, a good personality, and C-cup breasts, Cat was definitely attractive, even if she was a bit on the skinny side. She had roomed with Jessa her freshman year, when they’d been stuck in a one room triple (because of the housing crunch) in Eisenhower Hall, but had gone a different way than the blonde. Instead of rushing, Cat had dedicated herself to Green’s track team, and become one the most up-and-coming hurdlers in the Northeast. Still, Cat and Jessa had stayed good friends, still hung out together, and occasionally beat TriGam brothers at Pong in their own basement.
“Pong is NOT Beirut,” Mason constantly lectured his friends when they came up to visit. Unlike Cat (from Nebraska), Jessa (from Florida), or Dunny (from San Diego), Mason was only a short drive home. His Maine accent was still fairly strong, but it was always put to shame when his “boys” came out to visit. Cat had heard him lecture his friends from home dozens of times about Pong - it was not Beirut.
Maybe it was just a Green College thing. While Beirut involved tossing a ball into beer cups, Pong was more like an actual game of ping-pong, paddles and all. Strokes were limited to under-hand only, and the point of the game was to get your opponent to drink, more than anything else. Six cups, full of beer, were set up on either side of the table, in a triangular array. If your cup was hit at any point during the game, the punishment was to drink half the cup. If the ball actually landed IN the cup, it was to drink the whole thing. If the ball bounced off the table or even missed the table completely, it didn’t matter - the point of the game was the beer. Cat knew the game - they all did; Pong was as much a part of Green College as was the school song.
“Switch partners with me,” Mason begged the two girls. He didn’t care which one accepted his offer - he just knew that there was little chance of winning with Dunny on his time. He was still behind the bar.
“No way,” Jessa replied. “We know a good thing when we have it.”
Mason quickly downed another beer, and immediately refilled it at the tap. They had just finished one game of Pong, with the girls clearly wiping the floor with the two TriGam brothers. In their own basement, no less.
“Besides,” Cat said, lying her paddle down on the table, “I think I’m going to get home and finish that history paper that I’ve got.”
All three jeered her at once. “Oh come on, Cat,” Mason replied. “That’s not due until Friday.” Mason was actually in that particular history class with her, and had stressed again and again that evening that he hadn’t started the research yet, and didn’t plan on starting the research until Thursday. They sat together every class, Mason half-sleeping throughout the lecture and then stealing Cat’s notes afterwards. They were good friends, having met during matriculation, when MacNeill and “MacIntyre” (the College had misspelled Cat’s last name that morning) were seated next to each other. And Cat would have been lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him in a more-than-friends-type way. But there was tension between Jessa and Mason, and Cat didn’t want to get in the way of their possibly budding romance.
“Besides, it was about to get interesting,” said Jessa cryptically.
Cat glanced at her friend, trying to make out what she meant. “Fine,” she replied, her curiosity piqued. “I can stay around to beat the pants of these guys one more time.”
All four, having just finished playing the first game of pong that night, already had a slight buzz going by midnight. This helped, ultimately, in the proposal that Jessa brought up.
“So,” Jessa said, getting the attention of the other three. “What do you say we play for something a little more exciting?”
“More exciting than beer?” Dunny asked, in mock disbelief.
“Yeah, well,” Jessa smiled at both her teammate and her opponents, “since we’ve already kicked your ass, how about we see your ass….”
Mason was confused. “What?”
“Strip pong, stupid,” Jessa replied.
Immediately, the two men were hooked on the idea. After all, if they lost, they’d be naked in their own home. If they won, they’d be in the presence of two young, gorgeous, naked girls.

Cat, though, was the one that needed convincing. “I don’t know,” she started, “couldn’t we just play for money or some sort of dare or something?”
Jessa looked at her partner skeptically, and then pulled her aside. She began whispering to her, “Come on, Cat, we’ve already beaten them once. You’ve seen how lousy Dunny is at this game - they don’t stand a chance.”
Cat still didn’t look convinced.
“This is going to be one of those nights that you look back on twenty years from now, and absolutely cherish. You’re young, you’re single, you’re the most attractive you’ll ever be. Besides, it’s college!”
Cat still wasn’t sure.
“Think about it,” Jessa said, leaning in and raising an eyebrow, “have you ever actually lost a game of Pong to Dunny before?”
Cat knew Jessa was right. While Mason was a fairly decent Pong player, Dunny was horrid. Cat actually couldn’t understand how someone who lived in a frat house, with 24/7 access to the Pong tables, could be that bad at Pong.
Jessa’s first point was the one that hit home, though. It WAS college after all. It was the time for crazy stuff like this to happen, and be okay. It wasn’t like she was prancing around naked at her job, or anything like that.
Cat nodded. “Sure,” she said, “I’m in.”
Cat and Jessa both turned and came back to the Pong table. Mason had returned from the bar, six cups of beer already in hand.
“What are the rules?” he asked after the girls had come back from their mini-conference.
“Well, we have six cups, right?” Jessa said. “What if both members of each team strip of one article of clothing every time there’s a sink?”
“What about hits?” Mason asked.
“Um…in the event of a hit, only one member of each team has to take something off.”
“Wait,” Dunny said, the wheels in his head clearly turning. “If there are only six cups, I could theoretically take off both my shoes, both my socks, and both my shirts and still be wearing my pants and underwear.”
“Let’s count shoes and socks as one item,” Jessa returned. “Each person has five articles of clothes, and they have to go in the right order. For the Cat and I, we need to take off shoes and…Wait, neither of us is wearing socks.” Both girls were wearing flip-flops.
“Well, we’re counting shoes and socks as one item anyways, right?” Mason cut in.
“Yeah,” Jessa replied, shooting him a look. “I was just observing. Anyways, for the ladies, item one will be shoes. Item two will be shirts. Item three is pants for Cat, a skirt for me. Item four is the bra. Item five,” Jessa said as she looked wickedly at Mason, “are the panties.”
Cat gulped. She really didn’t want to think about taking off her underwear in the TriGam basement. They HAD beaten the guys the previous time by a fairly sizable margin, so she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“For the gentleman,” Jessa continued, “and, pay attention Dunny, this is going to be more important for you two than for us - item one is shoes. Item two is….”
Dunny was wearing a red button-down shirt over a brown undershirt. Mason, though, was only wearing a green t-shirt. That made things a little tougher, but Cat piped in when she realized what Jessa was stuck on.
“Item two is one of Dunny’s shirts or Mason’s belt.”
“Fine, that works,” Jessa said. “Item three is Dunny’s other shirt or Mason’s t-shirt. Item four is pants. Item five, my good men, is your underwear - boxers OR briefs.”
Mason looked at the cups, and then back at Jessa. “Hey, uh, Jessa? Isn’t Pong usually played with six cups, not five?”
“Well, let’s make it five cups, then?” Jessa responded, not having taken that into account.
“What if the first two hits, or the first sink, are warnings?” Cat put forth. That would give her a little extra time before she needed to start showing skin.
“I can live with that,” Mason replied.
“Fine, one extra cup,” Jessa agreed. “Let’s go!”
Suddenly, Cat felt the pressure of actually having to get naked. They HAD to win.
Jessa picked up her paddle after arranging the cups. She was about to serve, but then stopped. “Wait, so what happens at the end?”
“We all degenerate into an orgy,” Dunny said, matter-of-factly.
“Funny,” Jessa countered. “No seriously, what happens? I mean, once we’ve stripped the last one of you two out of his boxers, can you just put them back on? Because, well, that’s kind of disappointing.”
“So what do you propose?” Mason shot back.
“A half hour. After the game’s done, we spend a half hour down here, hanging out with you guys while you serve us beers in the nude.”
Cat looked at her friend in disbelief, whining, “Jessa, that’s not gonna be cool if that’s us…”
Jessa smiled at the boys. “Don’t worry, Cat, it won’t be.”
The game didn’t start off well for Jessa and Cat. In fact, Jessa hit the guys’ cup on her serve.
“Shit,” she said, picking up one of her own cups and drinking half of it. Though not terribly complex, Pong still had its rules. Any hit or sink on the serve didn’t count, and the server was actually penalized for it. Cat cringed as she watched Jessa down half the cup - she didn’t want this trend to continue.
After she drank the beer and placed the half-full cup back into its assigned spot. Jessa served again, and this time was lucky enough to start a volley - a volley that ended with Cat sinking the ball in one of guys’ cups. As Mason chugged the beer, Cat was already starting to get optimistic. That was the guys’ warning. From here on in, they’d be starting their strip show.
Mason served. The ball bounced back and forth a few time until Cat again sunk the ball after a short volley. This game had started off better than she had hoped, and much, much better than she had feared.
Both Dunny and Mason stepped out of their shoes and socks. Mason just kicked his shoes off, and then bent over to remove his socks and shove them inside. Dunny had to sit down and untie his sneakers. After his socks were off, he stood barefoot on the floor and grimaced.
“Dude, it’s clear we didn’t think this through,” Dunny said, demonstrating the fact that his right foot was sticking to the floor. Anyone who has ever spent any time in any fraternity basement knows better than to go barefoot.
“Yeah,” Mason answered. He himself was standing in a puddle. Tonight, since they were the only ones down here, he could be sure the puddle was just beer. Any other night, though, it could be one of any number of substances. Collectively, it was all referred to as simply “mung” at Green College.
Dunny chugged the beer that Cat had hid, tossing the empty cup into the trash. He was about to serve the ball when Jessa stopped him.
“First things first, boys,” gesturing to their shoes. “I believe that those shoes now belong to us.”
Dunny and Mason looked at each other and just shrugged. They handed their shoes to Jessa, who tossed them up onto the bar, which ran parallel to their pong table. Once she was ready, they got going again.
This time, though, Mason got a hit. Cat chugged half the beer, knowing that their warning shots were over with. “God damn,” she thought to herself, “Why did I let Jessa talk me into this?” The beer was starting to take hold, though, so she was getting a little less nervous.

The next hit belonged to Jessa, and as Mason drank half the beer, Dunny unbuttoned his first shirt. He tossed it to Cat and readied himself for another volley. Cat just tossed it on the bar, on top of the shoes.
“Did he just wink at me?” Cat asked herself, looking down the table at Dunny. She shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t that Dunny was unattractive, because he actually was a good-looking guy. It was just that Cat definitely would have picked Mason, if she could have had her choice. But Mason’s eyes were clearly on Jessa, and Jessa’s were clearly on Mason. Dunny was more of a sidekick, though he hated it when the girls teased him with the title. But he was always there, with Mason, doing whatever Mason was doing.
“Why can’t Mason be MY sidekick?” Dunny had asked one of the first few times Cat’s friend Yvette had teased him. Anyone who had been within earshot of the question had laughed; Mason was clearly the dream-guy - and Dunny was the comic relief, or the best friend who stuck with the hero through thick or thin, or the guy who got killed within the first five minutes of a movie, giving the hero a lust for vengeance.
But with Mason’s attention occupied with Jessa, Dunny’s was free to wander. And, unfortunately, Cat was the only other girl in the basement that night for his attention to wander to.
The following hit went to the girls, as well. This time, Dunny drank while Mason undid his belt. The big-buckled cowboy belt was added to growing pile of shoes, socks, and Dunny’s shirt next to the Pong table. It didn’t look good for the guys.
The next hit was Cat’s, and as she and Jessa celebrated, Mason pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing the first skin of the game. Cat tried hard not to stare at his muscular physique, but she was impressed. Jessa was as well; Cat could practically see her salivating. The girls had started a good streak - Mason was already down to his pants and boxers, and the girls hadn’t taken off a single article of clothing.
This changed, though. Mason immediately sunk a ball on the next volley, costing the girls their sandals. Dunny gestured with his finger, and the girls tossed the sandals up onto the bar. Cat drank half the cup, and Jessa drank the other. Now the game was getting serious. If the girls let their guard down for a second, at least one of them was going to be stripping something off.
The ball bounced back and forth a few times, until Mason managed put the ball across with just enough speed that Jessa missed her chance to stop it. The ball struck a cup on the side, and Cat knew this was it.
She looked at Jessa. “This is your game, you go first.”
Jessa didn’t argue with Cat. She just set her jaw, reached to her waist, and pulled the white tank top over her head. Under it, she was wearing a lacy, purple bra that barely contained her sizable chest. Cat drank the half-cup of beer.
“Ogle all you want, boys,” Jessa teased, sexily adjusting the cups of her bra for her audience. “I plan on doing the same when you’re serving us beer.”
Mason laughed, waiting for the ball. As Jessa got ready, she smiled at Mason, and said, “I hope you boys are going to be able to play okay, you know, with the distractions and all…”
She served, and a long volley started. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Cat’s emotions went this way and that, getting excited when it looked like she was going to hit one of the guys’ cups, and cringing in fear when the ball bounced back onto the girls’ side. The volley eventually ended, though, when Mason sunk the ball in a cup right in front of Cat.
Suddenly, the game didn’t look as good as it had been.
As the guys celebrated, Cat begrudgingly took off her tank top. She didn’t complain though, because she knew she had no grounds - Jessa was stepping out of her skirt. They took turns finishing the beer, and added the tank top and the skirt to the pile of clothes on the end of the bar.
Things were now evened up, each team with two and half cups of beer left. Mason was wearing only his jeans and underwear while Dunny was still dressed in his shorts, boxers, and undershirt. On the girls’ side, Cat still had her tight black pants on, in addition to her panties underneath and her black bra that was out in the open now. Jessa, though, was down to just her purple bra and matching purple panties. They were a matching set, very lacy, and held both Mason and Dunny enraptured while the girls finished the beer.
Jessa didn’t seem phased, though. “Come on, Cat, we’re all evened up. Let’s finish this off and see some penis.” She winked at Mason, and then slapped her own ass. Mason was clearly stunned, because the ball bounced on the table and hit him smack in the chest, without him even taking a swing at the ball.
After a short volley back and forth, Jessa eventually sunk the ball. The girls began to celebrate, because a sink would mean both guys had to take off clothes, and Mason would be down to his underwear.
Mason, though, wasn’t budging. Dunny took off his shirt, revealing a fairly muscular chest underneath, but Mason wasn’t doing anything.

I am standing in the middle of a room, naked. Then a strongly built guy comes in, also naked, his cock is already hard, at least 8 inch. Then he pushes me down onto my knees, and says: “Here is what you want slut, suck this!”, and shoves his huge hard meat into my mouth. As it goes deep into my throat, he grabs my head and pulls it on his cock, I start to gag. But he doesn’t mind. Starts to fuck my mouth, shoving his cock deep into my throat, pulls out, back again. Then he moans loudly and shoots his load into my mouth: “Yes, bitch swallow it, drink my cum”, and I swallow as much as I can, but quite a lot flows out of my mouth down my chin. Then he pulls out his cock and goes away, leaving me standing on my knees his cum flowing out of my mouth.
Then I hear footsteps from behind. I turn my head back, to see another guy coming to me. He also muscular, and he is black, his cock must be even bigger, then the previous. He stops behind me :”Push up that ass, you whore, and take this” says, and with that, he kneels behind me, grabs my hips and pushes his cock up my ass. I scream out loud, as he rips my asshole apart. “Shut up bitch!”, and pushes his sock into my mouth. Then grabs me hard and starts to pound my ass hard and fast in and out endlessly. As my ass start to burn I still scream, but my creams are muffled by his sock in my mouth. Then finally he shoots his cum deep into my ass, then pulls out, takes his sock out from my mouth, and leaves me there, with his cum dripping out of my ass.
Then both of them come back with two more guys. One of the new guys pushes his cock in front of my mouth, and tells me to suck him off. I start to lick the cockhead, then take it into my mouth, and suck it gently, then stronger. Meanwhile the other new guy is behind me, licking my ass, and licking the cum out of it. Then as i take the cock slowly into my mouth, the guy behind me start to tongue fuck me, then pulls out his tongue, and soon I feel his cock at my asscrack. At the same time as he start to push his cock gently into my asshole, then other guy start to push his cock into my throat, then they start to move together in my ass and mouth, and the guy behind me starts to stroke my cock. Then they fuck and stroke me faster and faster until all of us cumming. Then they pull out, and their cock immediately replaced by the first two guys. This time the black guy fucks my face, and the other my ass. They do it hard and fast, meanwhile the other two guys are stroking their cock over my body. Then suddenly everyone cums, and my ass, my mouth gets filled by cum, and the other two guys cover my body and face with their load. Then they all leave.
Soon then first two guys come back with some other guys with them. One of them kneels ahead me with his asshole at my face. “Lick that ass, you bitch” I hear from behind, and I start to lick it. Circling my tongue around the asscrack, then sliding my tongue into his ass deeply, twisting it around. Then I move my tongue in and out his ass deep and fast, then he pulls away, turns around and pushes his cock into my mouth deeply. In no time he starts to shoot his cum into my throat.
When he pulls out two new guys come to me. One at my face, one at my ass. The first one pushes his cock into my mouth, while the other one start to beat my as with his belt. In time with his strokes the front guy pushes his cock deeper and deeper into my throat, so I cannot scream. He soon cums into my throat and gets immediately replaced by another guy.
After a dozen hits the back guy stops and start to fuck my ass, and when he finishes he gives the place to the last guy. He turns me on my back and fucks me that way. There is still one cock in my mouth and three or four guys around me. I stroke two of them, while the other ones stroking themselves. One of them stroking my cock. Suddenly everyone moans, the black guy shouts out “Lets give this bitch what he craves for”, and with that all of them cums all over me. Then they leave me, on the floor covered by cum.
I suddenly wake up, check my body, nowhere a drop of cum, I am clean and dry. Once again I just dreamed all of this….
Will it ever happen really?