A discussion during sex.

I had sex with my wife last night. In and of itself, that’s not very interesting to anyone but me, and maybe her. It was a busy day with church in the morning, a quick lunch, and then a drive down to my In-law’s house for lunch with my wife’s family.

There are 3 kids total on her side, 6 on mine, but since I’m not from around here I only have to deal with mine twice a year. Once for the annual gathering somewhere that involves camping and once at Christmas on a rotation system slightly more complicated than a lunar landing. It all revolves around school holiday’s, drama, swim team, dance team, Christmas league basketball (yes, it exists, and yes, it’s awful), and my favorite, 2^nd semester registration day. I’m the furthest away from the clan/cult, so no one visits me. While it’s expense to go somewhere every year, it’s great to never be the host.

Her family’s OK, I guess. We argue politics; we goad each other into rhetorical corners, and eat a lot of lasagna. I guess it’s not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon. My favorite part is playing with the kids in the yard (9 total) and ogling my niece, who is, thank goodness, almost 18, and my sister-in-law (5’11”, blonde, slim, great rack, and lots of money for really cute lingerie).

My niece dresses like a whore because her mom is one. Kiki, the niece, showed up in what was basically three layers of lingerie that barely kept her boobs in, and a her “dress” the outer layer, covered her shapely ass with about an inch to spare. The sister-in-law, (Elsi) was in her typical WASP outfit, $150 jeans, shoes that looked fabulous, and a tight Gucci tank top and a light cashmere sweater. Her thong panties were extremely small and had a jewel where they descended between her cheeks, and her bra matched.

I know this intimate information because she and I have an agreement, she tells me what lingerie she is wearing every time we get together (with visual proof), and I don’t tell her husband, my wife’s brother, about “indiscretion” with my college roommate’s sister. It was years ago, and I’d probably never squeal on her, but I think she likes showing me her thong and bending over so I can see her bra. It’s our little game, and it keeps us both a bit hot-and-bothered when the family is together.

It was after a long afternoon and dinner clean up that we popped in the car for the drive home. The kids fell asleep almost immediately so we were able to talk a little on the way home. Most of the discussion centered on re-doing the back yard and before I knew it, we were pulling in to the driveway.

She complained about how much work she had to do and I told her to do it later. She asked me to turn on the computer so she could check her e-mail and I told her that there wasn’t anything she needed to respond to at 11:30 at night.

What is up with you? She asked

I want to have sex, so let’s get to bed.

OK then, she said, and we put our leftovers in the fridge, tucked the kids in to their beds, and shut down the house. All I had to do was pack my gym bad and pick out my clothes to be ready for today at the office.

When I returned to the bedroom she was in her bra and panties and I asked her if she wanted any foreplay.

“Not so much.”

I stripped down and crawled in to bed. The prospect of a quickie before bed and the image of Elsi’s thong splitting her cheeks and cradling her shaved pussy gave me an erection at once. I love being hard, I

love getting hard. I love it all.

“Wow, you are ready quick.”

“I love this bra.” I said, as I hooked my finger under the cup and played with her nipple.

She snuggled in to my arm and her breathing dropped in to a cadence that mean she was about to fall asleep. I kissed her to wake her up, and finished undressing her as I kissed my way over her breasts and down her stomach. I pulled her panties down and she spread her legs for me. She twisted to the left and reached in to our nightstand to get the lube. She rubbed some on me, and then squirted out a little more and rubbed it in to her open lips.

“I love it when you do that.”

Do what?

Put on the lube. It feels good.

You mean, like this? She put some more on me, rubbing the KY up and down my shaft.

You need to do that more often.

Do what?

I want more hand jobs.

What?

And more blowjobs. Just simple orgasms.

Why? She asked as she guided my cock into her body.

Because I don’t want to bother you with full-on sex every time. I want more orgasms, and you want more sleep. So thought it would work for both of us.

Really. You thought that. Doesn’t it seem a bit selfish?

Not at all. You get off the hook for sex when you are tired, and I keep my promise not to masturbate without you. I get my orgasms, you get your sleep. It’s win-win.

Win-win? I could tell she was skeptical of my reasoning. But don’t you think that it’s immature to ask for something like that?

To ask for what? An orgasm from my wife? I like hand jobs, I loooooove blowjobs, and you don’t need sex as much as I do, so I’m giving you a way out.

But don’t you think that is’ just juvenile to want to do it that way? I like it when we are together.

I know, but we are ‘together’ only 2-3 times a month.

Yea, so.

Well, so, that’s not enough for me. I want more orgasms. More often. And, I like getting them in different ways. I love having sex, but it doesn’t have to be intercourse every time.

But isn’t it more meaningful when we do it together?

Yes, but sex doesn’t have to be meaningful every time. Sometimes I just want to cum, and be done.

Her hips were s starting to quicken their pace and my cock was wet and slippery inside her. I asked her if she wanted to get out “the King,” to help her finish. We rolled over, putting her on top, and kept kissing as I slipped in and out of her.

I don’t need it tonight.

But you are going to want it in about 5 minutes

See, it’s ok, if I don’t finish (she hates saying “cum” or “orgasm”)

But you are going to want to, so just get it.

She leaned forward and reached the bottom drawer of the end table, placing her left nipple at my mouth. I took it hungrily and sucked as I picked up my pace. With her leaning forward, her weight off me, I had a fuller range of motion, a longer stroke, and I felt the sensation of coming out and then penetrating her pussy with each stroke. It’s a feeling she likes as well, so she rested on her elbows and stayed in that position.

Her full breasts covered my face, her erect nipple tasted sweet in my mouth, and I began pumping harder, my orgasm now inevitable. I didn’t hold back, and she didn’t seem to mind. I pounded hard and grabbed the back of my neck for leverage. My right hand roughly caressed her breast, and I pushed her upright so her full weight drove my cock deeper into her pussy with each bounce.

I lasted in this state for 30 seconds or longer before my orgasm hit. It was a good one and I continued pumping for a long while. As soon as I released her, she slid the switch on the King with her thumb and pressed the head of the vibrator between our bodies, finding her clit.

She was still breathing hard from my orgasm and she laid back and braced herself on my lower leg. I put my left hand on her breast and slipped right thumb under the head of the vibrator to rub her clit. I stroked in large circles as her hips began to buck against the two-pronged assault on her clit. As her climax approached, I used my thumb and forefinger to spread her pussy lips and expose her raw and swollen clit to the slippery vibrator head.

All the while I was still inside her, still hard, and still penetrating her upward, lifting her body weight off the bed, getting deeper as she spread her legs more and more and got closer and closer to her orgasm.

“That feels good. Oh yea, that’s it. More more more more more”

I fucked her as deeply as I could and spread her lips wide, and her orgasm hit her hard. She pressed her vibrator against her clit as hard as she could and let wave after wave hit her twitching hips. She kept cumming and cumming. For over a minute she twitched and gasped, and humped my cock and the buzzing head of her favorite toy. I was in heaven and almost came for a second time myself

When it became too sensitive, she handed me the vibrator to turn-off and she slumped against my chest and kissed me deeply. She moved her hips in slow and gentle circles and slipped her tongue inside my mouth for a long and deep French kiss.

I let my hands slip downward, stroking back and gently opening her cheeks as I pressed in and out a few more time. My erection was fading as her heart rate dropped.

She kissed me one more time and asked.

Now isn’t that better than a hand-job?

I just smiled, bit my tongue, and decided to answer another day.

Unfinished business

This afternoon we are having a birthday party for my oldest daughter. 10 screaming girls, all of them under 18. Ugh, but fun, in a scary kind of way.

Last night, as we were lying in bed, we started reviewing the list of things that had to happen today. It was long, this list that is. I agreed to skip the gym, take the late train to work, and get some things done in the morning.

I was up at five a.m. cutting fabric for a craft activity, and then at 5:55 was in the car heading to Kroegers for groceries for dinner. When I got back and unloaded the car, 2 of the three kids were up and resting on the couch, reading a book and arguing with their mom about watching TV “too early in the morning.”

I dodged the drama scene and jumped in the shower. I had woken up with serious morning wood, but didn’t have the heart to wake her up so early when she was clearly exhausted the night before. My shower was very straightforward. I had 12 minutes to shower and dress, and another 15 go drive to the train station, 20 if the lights were against me and I got stuck at the train crossing on my side of the tracks.

I thought about inviting her in to the shower with me, but then I knew I would miss my bus, and with gas @ $4.59 a gallon, it wasn’t worth missing the train. However, my shower was quick, I skipped shaving my 3-day beard, and I was dried and dressed in 10 minutes, leaving me 2 to spare.

I practically ran to the living room and asked her to join me in the bedroom. I told the kids, “Mommy and I need to talk.” I led her out of the room by the hand as I hear the TV turn on and click over to “Dragon Tales.”

I closed and locked the door behind me. I was fully dressed but quickly unbuckled, unzipped, and dropped my pants to the floor.

Kiss me
You don’t have time
I have time kiss me.
You are insane. Did you lock the door?
Her hand reached between us and felt that I was still soft.

You’re wasting time. Kiss me.
We don’t have time; I don’t like the pressure.
There’s no pressure, I don’t need to finish, I just want to feel it.
Isn’t that frustrating?
Let me worry about that
Are you sure?
We could have been done by now

I was still standing, my pants down, her fully dressed in her pajamas, staring at the door, afraid that one of the kids would knock at any second.
Hurry – just for a minute
Are you SURE?
Yes
Lay down.

I lay back down on the bed and she sat besides me. I don’t know why she won’t kneel down in front of me when she gives me head. I think she’s seen more porn than she admits, and doesn’t want to take on traditional porn poses.

My eyes darted to the clock and saw that I had to leave in 2 minutes, 5 if I skipped my regular route and cut through the mall parking lot and went the wrong way down a short alley. I had done that route a few times, and hadn’t gotten a ticket yet.

Her lips were wonderful and my cock grew hard slowly. She made just the right amount of noise she was sucking more aggressively than usual.

Are you sure you have time for this?
Please don’t stop. It feels really nice.
It’s doing to take too long to clean up.
I’m not going to cum, don’t worry (Swallowing was never an option)
You are going to want to cum.
No, trust me; I just want to feel it.

She bent her head back down to her work and continued to suck and caress my cock that had hardened as we talked. It was smooth and slick and hard and wet with her saliva. She used her tongue perfectly to caress my head and to tease the big vein on the front of my shaft.
I started to feel that subtle shift inside, deep inside when you have to make the decision about cumming. I gently stroked her hair and told her that was enough, and she lifted her mouth off my cock and kissed me on the lips.

Are you going to be frustrated all day?
No, I stopped you in time. It felt wonderful.
I wish we had more time.
I’m good, I love how that feels. I gotta go.

With that, I pulled up, zipped up, grabbed my keys and stayed hard the entire 15-minute drive to the station. The lights were with me so I avoided the mall parking lot and the wrong-way street and stepped on to the train with a minute to spare.

It was a very nice morning.

A sexy little moment 2

I was out furniture shopping last night the IKEA a few miles north of my house last night. Traffic was wonderful after a long day at work, so I thought I'd zip past my house, whip out my credit card, and do some spending. We've all got to spend our stimulus checks some how, so I thought I'd send some money to Sweden

With tape measure in hand, I was wandering through the bedroom sets when I noticed a very attractive family come by. The whole family was beautiful. The mom was about 5'6", dark Mediterranean skin, short curly hair, and a nice figure. The dad was taller, slim, good teeth, and he laughed at everything she said. Their teenage son was all too typical, iPod headphones, over-priced jeans, expensive hoodie, but, instead of the typical teenage scowl, he actually listened to his parents and was involved with the conversation. However, the daughter provided the best moment.

She was perfect. Tight jeans wrapped around a small tight butt that had a deep cleft, and well-defined cheeks. Her heels were high, but not "hooker-high" but they made her legs look sleek under the form-fitting jeans. She was wearing an "Aeropostal" t-shirt that was a size too small and almost see-through, and her skin was satin smooth, not a single blemish, and the color of toasted almonds. Her green satin bra showed through without hesitation and her nipples were large and obvious. I was surprised that her parents let her go shopping in such a sexy outfit, and I was wondering what her little brother was thinking about. I’m sure he’s yanked one off thinking about her, and I’m sure he feels weird about it, but I’m doubly sure that he did it again after shopping with her all afternoon. And I am 100% sure that he has stolen some of her lingerie for his friends at school.

She was sexy personified.

Every time she looked my way, she smiled, probably just being nice, because she had a sweet and ready smile, and laughed frequently, though, at what I could not tell, since the entire conversation was in another language. It sounded Mediterranean, but it might just have been very fast Spanish.

I tried to stay close to them as long as I could, and still get my shopping research done, but after a while, I gave up on my own agenda and just tailed them from department to department. We ended up in the office area and she spent a great deal of time bent over a desk pointing at a drawing that the dad had produced from his fanny pack. At one point, she was pulling out of the conversation, her sweet behind pointing my way. I looked up and she had turned so I could see her left side.

Bent over the desk, her elbows on the table, her breasts hung down, filling her bra, and stretching her t-shirt, and giving me a wonderful view. As I pretended to work on my drawing pad, I saw her right hand, really just her index finger, start to flick, or tickle, the nipple on her left breast. Her body shielded her actions from the rest of the family, but, by the look of boredom on her beautiful face, I could tell that she wasn’t paying any attention to what she was showing the rest of us.

Her finger didn’t just flick once, she was actually massaging her nipple through the thin t-shirt and bra, at one point, brazenly pinching her nipple and tugging on it just a bit. I even noticed, that her hips were starting to twitch a little each time she touched herself. This beauty, this nymph, the erotic angel, was getting aroused in IKEA as I watched. I popped a woody so hard that I was considering a quick yank in the “family” bathroom because it was one stall and has a locking door.

The conversation soon pulled her back in and she stood up and wandered off with her family.

I whipped out my cell phone, declared to my wife that the shopping trip had been a success, and told her to get the kids in bed early, and that I was coming home.

An hour later, we were both extremely satisfied.

Her only question was, “What got in to you?

I just smiled.

The Lesbian Stigma, why it is worse for Gay Men

Please go to Deb's blog @ http://dtrant.blogspot.com/2008/06/lesbian-social-stigma.html for the background on this post. My comments that precede this lenghty post are some of the more recent ones. Deb is one of my favorite authors and one of the few blogs I read on a regular basis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm glad you like my comment. It's been something I've been thinking about for a while as my circle of friends, and my experience with porn has expanded. I've often been baffled at how differently we treat gay men and lesbians in the mainstream culture, and in porn.

There is almost no crossover between gay and straight porn, while almost every "straight" porn has lesbian sex as a main component. I've never seen male-on-male sex in straight porn. Even when the scene includes multiple men, they never touch, ever.

Even mainstream TV shows have had one of their female characters “go gay” for a while, or at least think about it. Samantha on Sex in the City tried it for a while, Tina Fey’s character on 30 Rock, “dated” a lesbian and considered going further, rebellious teenagers are almost expected to do some cross-over exploring, and any college girl that hasn’t made-out with at least one or their sorority sister is considered terribly square and inexperienced. In these cases, the girls were free to come back to the heterosexual life without any long-term doubt about their “real” identity.

That would never happen with a male character, or a male in real life. If a guy has one homosexual experience, most, or all, of the people around him will consider him gay, and it sticks with them. For a girl, it’s all, “We were drunk, it was fun, we were flirting….” For a guy, it’s, “Dude, were you always a homo?”

So why are women free to crossover socially and sexually, while men are not? Why does society see bi-curious women as sexy and daring (rule breakers) and we see bi-curious men as closeted homosexuals?

I believe it is because the consequences of crossing-over are harsher for men than for a woman.

Women grow up in a society of women that allows emotion, touching, holding hands, doing each other’s hair, sharing tips on waxing and shaving and using tampons, and even going to the bathroom together. The concept of “personal space” is wiped out early among women, and women who re-establish those personal boundaries are seen as distant, or cold.

Men are quite the opposite. We are taught early to stand-alone, to be independent, to shun the group and forge a new trail. We build high walls of personal space and ritualize any interaction within that space. The High-5, the manly hug, the chest bump, are all social rituals that allow us to share our personal space, but within a strict framework.

Example, I went to an art show last month to see a friend’s paintings on display. I saw him, and gave him a knuckle-bump and a handshake, that was it, because he is too tall to hug in a “manly” fashion. He’d have to bend down, which has a strong boy/girl overtone to it, and it would feel awkward, and we both knew it before it became an issue. Our only physical interaction was literally at arms length, hands only.

That same night I met a female artist, a wonderful photographer, and she hugged me to say hello. Later she put her arm around me, and when we shook hands later that evening, it lasted several seconds, and lingered as she slowly let go. The physical connection was made instantly, and repeated several times through the evening. I want to think that she was hitting on me, but that tender, physical, connected interaction is quite common between women and women, and between women and men, but never between two men who aren’t gay.

If I would have let my hand “linger” as I let go for Tom’s hand, he instantly would have thought that I was effeminate, or maybe even gay, and it would have changed his perception of me immediately. Even if I convinced him, somehow, that I was 100% straight, he would remember that small gesture.

Since I do not want to be identified as gay in my public life, I act very straight. In my private life, or among my gay friends, I’m much more nuanced. I don’t mind if Frank and Steven hug me, or if Dan leads me by the hand to show me his new apartment. In that private moment I can be “gay-er” because there are no ramifications to me acting that way. They know I’m not gay, but their social construct doesn’t put any penalty on being gay, so I act a little gay to fit in.

These men, unlike the women, have paid a high price for breaking the rules. Most have lost jobs, families, or friends for being gay. They have all found a comfort-zone, which allows them to be out, but they have all struggled to find it, and for some it took a very long time. Most of them paid the price when they came out, especially those who were seen as straight before.

This is not to say that lesbian don’t face the same struggles, but I believe that their trauma is less public, less overt, and less publicized than it is for men. But I’m a guy, and I can only see it from my eyes. I have several gay friends, but know only a couple of lesbians, so my views may be skewed.

There is a group of gay men at my office. They are all out and bring their partners to the Christmas party without much grief. They are well-paid and respected and enjoy working here. Fine, but they all entered the company as gay men. If I were to join their table, even as a known heterosexual, I would be labeled as gay and suffer social, and perhaps financial, consequences. Even if I didn’t do anything more than eat dinner with my best friend and his boyfriend, the changing perceptions exact a high social price.

However, if my girlfriend was to sit at our small, but growing, lesbian table, there would be no equivalent reaction.

American culture puts a high premium on masculinity and a harsh punishment on homosexuality for men. This discourages men from exploring the same crossover sexuality that is available to women.

When women “break the rules” and explore their sexuality with another woman, it is a natural extension of the physical and emotional closeness. It is a minor violation of the social order and they are allowed to “come back” into the norm.

When a man does the same thing, it’s a much bigger breach of the social norm. Men have to cross over a wider gulf between expected and actual behavior and it is almost impossible to rejoin the straight community.

If I could ask you anything

I woke up this morning full of love and hunger for you. I reached under the covers and felt your smooth skin, gazed at how your vibrant brown hair reflected gold streaks in the early morning light. I traced the outline of your soft cotton panties over your hip, and towards the soft curves of your beautiful ass, but I stopped.

Your breathing was deep, the hour was early, and I knew that I had a shower and a bus, and a long commute ahead of me. But I wanted to ask.

I wanted to ask you to want me, to need me, to wake up as hungry for me as I am for you. I want to ask you to wake up horny and excited to be near-naked besides me. I want you to see me as I see you, sensually attractive, the sole target of my sexual energy, and the ultimate partner in every fantasy.

I want to stop stopping myself. I want you to say yes when I nudge you awake with my morning wood, fresh from my dreams of you. I want you to smile when you feel my hands moving up and down my own body, trying in vain not to awaken you. I want you to know what I want. After 15 years of marriage and countless tears and conversations, I want you to know what I want.

I want a lot of things, but they are all one, really. I want you to want me.

I want you to wake up 15 minutes early to make love to me.
I want you to join me in the shower and stroke me without being asked.
I want you to slip out of your panties and present yourself to me in the silky sheets.
I want to step in to our room and see you cumming on your own, too hungry to wait.
I want you to lift yourself up to your knees, pull the thin silk of your thong to the side, and ask for it from behind.
I want you to get out the vibrator before I hand it to you.
I want you to swallow, just once.
I want you to pull the car to the side of the road and lift your skirt, while you call the baby-sitter to tell her we will be late getting home.

I want you. Every inch, every hair, every crack, every crevice. I love your body, your mind, your heart, your head, your feet, your tummy, your stretch marks, your nipples, your love handles, your ass, your beautiful soft vagina, your smell, your taste, your everything.

When I fantasize, it is of you. When I get hard, it is because of your place in my heart.
Even when I flirt with the pretty artist at the night club I wish that it was you, wanting me, pursuing me, needing me.

I want you to want me
I need you to need me
I'd love you to love me
And I'm begging you to beg me

I want you to get wet when I get home.
I want you to kiss me like you missed me
And yes, on occasion I want you to put in a frickin’ DVD, plop the kids down, pull me down the hall, lock the door, and fuck me. HARD.
Is that so difficult?

I want to make love to you without feeling guilty that I’m keeping you up.
I want to feel free to approach my own wife for sex without feeling like it’s a burden for you
I want you to at least pretend to be attracted to me, or let me go.
Let me go from the guilt and the resentment and the anger I feel every time I wake up next to you and realize that I’m not allowed.
Not allowed to want you
Not allowed to need you
Not allowed to lust after your perfect body and your beautiful smile.

I need to know that you want me
I need you to want me to make love to you.
I have to know that you like the feeling of me inside you
I need to know you don’t hate every minute of sex.
That you don’t cringe at my touch
That your orgasms are real, that your touch is sincere

I love you.
I need you.
I just want you to feel the same.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I miss you terribly, though you are just inches away.
I miss your voice that gets me through the day.

I want you to love me, in a very special way.
I need you to fuck me, before I go astray.

You tell me that I can not flirt, or smile at other girls,
And yet you won’t let me near, your gentle pubic curls.

I want you to get on your knees, and take my cock in hand
And blow and lick and swallow me, to show you understand.

I want you to lift up your ass, beg me for doggie style
I need to know you like it hard, and flash a naughty smile.

When we are alone at night, I need to know you’re there
Wanting me as I want you, lay your emotions bare.

I want you to attack me, as I walk through the door.
I want you as my virgin girl, and sometimes as my whore.

I want to feel your hunger, your need for me is real
Your hands upon me every night, will show me how you feel.

I know these rhymes are very bad, some may call them corny,
But when I see you in my bed, it makes me feel quite excitable.

(What do you mean it doesn’t rhyme………?)

:-)

Ugly women others see as pretty.

I don’t get it.

I just don’t. I try. I do. I look again and again. I look at every picture with fresh eyes and I try to see it, I try to “get” it, but I just can’t.

I can not see how people think that Ana Beatriz Barros is pretty. Click here

I think I’m in the minority here, I mean she’s all over the place, in Sports Illustrated, GQ, a million editorial spreads, and on the runway scene, but I just don’t get it.

I mean, OK, she has her moments, and when she was young, she was OK, but now, she’s just a wooden robot.

As a 40+ year old man, I know I shouldn’t be criticizing the young and the (allegedly) beautiful, but her face is vacant, ever picture has the same stare. I’m sure someone considers it “smoldering” or “Smoky” or “Seductive”, but I think she always looks ½ asleep. And not the good kind of almost asleep. It’s not the “Wow, thank you for that incredible orgasm, I’m exhausted and need to sleep, sleep. She has the look of “OMG, you are the most boring person in the whole entire universe, sleep.” Or, as she might say, “você é o mais aborrecido pessoa em todo o universo.”

I mean, if the guys at Sports Illustrated can’t get her to wake up, then I’m not sure what we are waiting for.

There are several people on my “No, she’s not pretty” list.

Cameron Diaz (return of Skeletor – even on her best days)

Ashley Simpson

Renée Zellweger (occasionally cute, but never pretty)

Madonna (OMGoodness she is so freakin’ ugly)

Victoria Beckham – fake boobs, bad tan, stressed out hair, I just don’t get it.

I could go on, but I’m at work and I should probably do some work, even though, I’ve been particularly productive this week, so maybe I’ll write some more, maybe on a different topic

A sexy little moment

This morning’s workout was swimming. The pool at my gym is usually empty when I arrive at 4:45 AM, but today it was bustling. With 4 lanes full, I had to split a lane with an older gentleman that never stopped moving, but never moved very fast. He is who I want to be when I’m 80 years old. I want to be the old guy that shows up every day, does his workout, and then goes and talks smack with his friends at the rest home all day. But, that was not the sexy little moment.

About halfway through my workout he and the middle-aged dad in the next lane left the pool. As they walked out, two more women walked in, one was about 60, in decent shape for a senior, and the other was much younger and dressed in sweats from one of my valley’s high schools. I got back into my rhythm, moving to the far side of the lane in case grandma wanted to split my lane with me.

I finished a couple of laps without anyone joining my lane and stopped at the pool’s edge to slip on my fins for some legwork. She was just 3 feet away from me, across the blue and white line of buoys that marked out of different worlds. She was frowning and pulling at the straps of her goggles which kept coming loose when she put them over her long brown hair.

I asked her if I could help and she complained that her house had burned down just three weeks ago and that her ‘good” goggles were gone. I expressed my sympathy for losing her house and showed her how to reroute the straps to make them stay on. My technique shortened the straps a bit so they were tight going over her head. I stepped closer to her and showed her a better way to get her goggles on. I said that with hair as long and as pretty as hers, she had to take care of it.

As I stood in my lane, and she bent down in hers, we both noticed that the position was very intimate and we paused for a moment and our eyes met. She was young, I knew that much, and I hesitated asking her name, in fear of her being too young. But sex always wins, so I told her my name and asked if she was still attending high school.

She grinned up at me and said that today was graduation day and that she was excited about heading off to college in the fall to become a pediatric nurse. We chatted for a minute and then decided that we needed to get back to our workout. As we got ready, another swimmer entered the pool and my new friend asked if she could join me in my lane.

“Of course,” I said, and moved over to let her in. She was wearing a cute yellow and black bikini with a very small bottom. Her breasts were young and perfect and I tried valiantly not to stare at them. I gave her a nod and started my laps. As I made my turn and came back down the lane, I glanced over at her and saw that her bikini bottoms were billowing up with each stroke, giving me a full access view of her wonderful ass.

I swam back and forth several times, not wanting to stop as long as she was going.

When we finally stopped for a breather at the same time, I complimented her on her suit but said that she might get more speed out of a better fitting outfit.

“Yeah,” she said, “I guess you’re right, but then you wouldn’t be able to look at my butt, now would you.” She smiled and gave me a “you’ve been busted” look, and swam on down the lane.

I found that it’s very difficult to swim with a woodie.

And that was my sexy little moment.

I love pregnant women

I love pregnant women. At least the pretty ones. I know that some people consider this a fetish, but I have to admit that I have loved this look ever since my wife had our first baby boy. The minute she started to show I couldn't leave her alone. I drove her crazy. It wasn't just for sex, but I wanted to touch her all the time. I insisted on showering with her in the morning so I could wash her tight little belly.

We went through gallons of baby oil to reduce stretch marks and to keep me happy. I would rub, and touch, and just immerse myself in her while she was pregnant.

The sex was great too. After the first trimester passed she got her groove back and we went to town. OMGoodness we did it all the time. It was awesome. She was tireless for about three months.



She was finally off (obviously) her birth control pills which had always made her sick, and she was healthy, her thin and athletic frame suddenly developed these wonderful hips, and her breasts, WOW, her breasts were perfect. Starting out and a A-Cup, and ending at a very full B/C, it was wonderful for both of us. Her nipples became more responsive so I finally got to play with them as much as I wanted, and all of her t-shirts got snug and sexy and just fantastic.



As the pregnancy continued, and she got bigger, she discovered, as I had long ago, the joy of "doggie style." Not only do I love the visual impact of this position, but I love how it feels, and she found out that she could have me and her vibrator at the same time! Nirvana!!!

Anyway, I'm in a good mood about this because I just found out that my favorite secretary here at work is pregnant (and no, it's not mine) and she's going to work on my floor starting in July. The images here are all from http://www.veer.com/, a graphics design company that I just love, and so i had to grab a few pictures to spice things up. Have a great Thursday night!!!

Trampoline Call

The phone rang

“Watcha doing?”

Not much, just laying out on the tramp, cooling’ off

Are the stars out?

Not a cloud in the sky

Temp?

Perfect.

Winds?

Minimal

Neighbors?

Asleep

Street lights?

Off.

Hard or soft?

What?

Hard? or Soft?

Well, (flustered) Soft for now, but subject to change

Shirt?

On

Take it off

Really?

Really

Hold on.

I set down the phone and complied

OK, it’s off, now what?

Nothing, just talk to me

Our conversation ran from jobs to home to god to fashion and back around again. Each topic reminded her of another and the connections between snippets of thought would have been unintelligible to an outsider listening in to either ½ of the conversation.

Hard or soft?

She interrupted a detailed story about how awful my boss was, so it took me a minute to understand the question.

Huh?

Hard or soft?

Semi, kind of, I liked your story about shopping with Jennifer.

Pervert

Me?

Take it out

Take what out? She hated it when I played dumb

Take it out or I hang up the phone

Maybe you should, I’m sure you are burning through all of your Me-minutes, or what ever they call them now.

Do you really want me to hang up? Its 12:30, I really should

Come on now; don’t get your panties in a bunch

I can’t, I’m not wearing any.

Coughing with surprise – can you repeat your last request nicely?

Please take your penis out of your pants. Her voice was just a whisper.

OK, it’s out.

Tell me about it

Serious?

Yes

I thought for a minute and debated what words to use. Well, it’s about 6 and a half inches long right now, it’s flesh colored, it’s hard, it leans a little to the left when I stand up, it furry at the bottom and smooth on top. I giggled at how silly my voice sounded as I described my favorite body part.

Tell me more

OK. It has a large vein running up the front side and the head is smooth around the ridge and textured on top, and right now there is a little drop of fluid on the end, and now it’s 7 inches long

Touch it

How?

Stroke it

OK, it’s a little dry, but it feels good.

What are you doing?

A low moan escaped my lips and she responded in kind

Tell me how it feels

It feels nice, the skin is tight, and smooth, I’m really hard, and I’m starting to leak from the tip

Are your pants off?

No, just open

Take them off

All the way?

All the way, and your shoes too.

Boxers?

Of course, off

You want me to lay here naked on the trampoline, in the middle of the night, and jerk off for you?

Don’t call it that, but Yes – her voice wavered from fear or arousal, or both. Rephrase please

Kelly, it was the first time I had used her name all night; Do you want me to undress and masturbate for you?

Yes please

Do you want me to cum, Kelly?

Yes please

Kelly?

Yes

Do you want to listen to me masturbate?

Yes

Do you want me to have an orgasm?

Yes

Do you want me to think of you?

Yes

All right

I laid back on the trampoline in the middle of my yard, the dark night around me, the Milky Way above, and masturbated as Kelly listened in. I tried to narrate and share the sense of danger, the threat of being seen, and the thrill of feeling the night wind on my bare skin. The feel of the trampoline on my back, the gentle bounce that made my body feel like fucking, and the feeling of daring and escape. I listened to her voice as she put her mouth close to the phone, her breathing short and ragged, her one word urgings for more detail, more words, more talking. The fevered pitch in my year led me to believe that perhaps she was doing the same thing for me as was doing for her.

I imagined her in her bedroom, wearing only her Bluetooth headset, her legs spread, her shaved body open and wet, and her lights on and her doors opened. Single, young, and well employed, she refused to share her home with a roommate, gladly paying a $2,300 a month mortgage on her own to enjoy, as she said, the right to live naked and pee with the doors unlocked.

One afternoon over lunch, just days before, she confided that she always fingered herself with the lights on, doors open, and TV blaring. She said that it invoked memories of the afternoon when she lost her virginity to her senior year school sweetheart. Her parents, and his, unaware that they were seeing each other on the sly, had left them alone on Super Bowl weekend when her father had gotten tickets from his favorite vendor at work. She said that they spent the entire weekend together, necking, playing, and flirting. She let him touch her bare breasts for the first time, and she learned what cum tasted like when she took his hard young cock into her mouth for the first time.

But it wasn’t until Sunday afternoon, on her mother’s bed, the lights on, the balcony door open, the ocean breeze blowing the Italian lace curtains that she let him have everything.

In the background the game was on, the Patriots v. the Rams, she remembered because she had a crush on Kurt Warner and had gotten herself off a few times that season as she watched him play. They had been making out on the balcony after sneaking a swim in her neighbor’s pool. As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, he tugged softly on the drawstrings of her bikini top and it fell to the grass of the yard below. Wearing nothing but her thong bottom, she admitted, she hungered for him to be inside her. She knelt before him, pulled his baggy shorts to the ground, and took him into her mouth again.

This time he lasted long enough for her to enjoy the feeling of his hardness in her mouth, the smooth flesh, the gentle feelings of him pushing him deeper into her hungry mouth. Now she wanted more, and she wanted him to give it to her. She stood and kissed him deeply, still holding on to his hard cock, and pressed it against her bikini bottoms, now wet from inside and out.

Leaving the doors open, she led him by the hand and pushed him on to the bed. Pressing her hand against his chest, she wordlessly told him to stay put. Naked, except for the thin material that split her buttocks in two, she walked to the bathroom and pulled out the large maroon beach towel that her mother used while sunbathing. She admitted to me, as she recounted her initiation into the world of women, that she was afraid that there would be blood, and wanted to protect her mother’s silk comforter.

She walked back out into the bedroom and was pleased to see that his erection had not faded, and that his eyes were alive with anticipation. She moved him aside with a flick of her wrist and together they laid out the oversized towel.

She kissed him deeply and placed his hands on her exposed cheeks. He squeezed gently and pressed his cock against her body. She then moved his hands to the strings that tied her bottoms and guided him as he pulled the strings, undid the knots, and undressed her completely.

Kelly admitted that she believes she had a small orgasm at that very moment but that she was unsure and wrote off the powerful shiver to the breeze that came in off the water. Giddy with anticipation, she crawled up on the bed and lay on her back. Her young nipples were hard and she smiled at how firm her breasts were when he took them in his mouth. She let him suckle at her breast for a few minutes and then pulled him to her lips for another kiss. “I’m ready” she whispered.

On her back, her young lover kneeling between her legs, she spread herself wide for him to see. Her lips were puffy and wet and glistened in the afternoon sun that bounced through her mother’s room. She fingered herself for a minute as he watched and then she took his penis into her hand and guided it home.

She orgasmed immediately. He paused his thrusting, hoping that he had not hurt her , but she urged him on, and he, as new lovers often will, had his climax just 8 thrusts later.

She described her first time to me in such detail that I was as hard as a rock by the end of the story. She described the afterglow or tender kissing and light touching, and was lost in reverie over her uneaten lunch and giggled when I admitted that I could not stand up without embarrassing myself.

Are you hard right now? She asked

Of course I am

Will you cum for me? right now? Right here?

What?

She reached under the table and found my hardened cock through my light wool slacks.

Cum. She said

And I did.

The feel of her hand on me, the boldness of the touch, the eroticism of her story, was all it took, and she felt my cock pulse and twitch in her hand as our waitress looked on from across the room with wide eyes and a wicked smile.

This memory flooded through my head as I whispered in her ear through the phone about my cock, my touching, my breathing, my skin. On her end of the line, I heard a small grunt and a deep breath, and then silence. As my orgasm flooded over me I told her that I was cumming and told her how much there was and how wonderful it felt. I told her that I wanted her to be the next time.

Her end of the phone was quiet and I did not press her to talk, but enjoyed the decadent feeling of cumming in my back yard, on my trampoline, in the dark of night.

As my heart rate dropped, and my breath returned, I turned to look up the hill to the two-story house that overlooked my yard, and waved and she closed her window and hung up the phone.