Family Pictures (Updated)

My flight in to Mile High Airport was uneventful, but I knew something was afoot when I got her first text message.

The last e-mails exchanged before my flight from Houston were a series of mundane notes about scheduling from my nephew. I guess his car had the best four-wheel-drive so he was nominated to come down from the mountain to pick me up.

When I turned my phone back on after the flight, however, several messages appeared from an address that I didn't recognize. I thought that skigirl24 was just spam that had slipped through my company's filter. I was about to delete them but my thumb slipped, and instead of deleting the last one I opened it.

It simply read "But remember, you can't tell Brian about this….”

I stopped in the middle of the airport terminal and scrolled quickly to the older messages. Each one was short and to the point.

“Hi uncle Jon! Brain is stuck at work so I will leave meeting you at the airport. He gave me your flight information so I will be outside of baggage claim #3 by 3:30 PM”

A few minutes later another message had been sent

“Your brother Andrew just showed me a picture of you so that I would recognize you at the airport. What a hottie. Are you sure you are really 44?”

15 minutes later, another message had been sent.

“Andrew pulled out the scrapbook and showed me more pictures. This vacation is going to be funner than I thought.”

Two minutes later, another message.

“You remind me of someone very special.“

I adjusted my watch for the Mountain time zone and made my way to baggage claim #3. Since my plane was a few minutes early, it was only 2:50 PM so I had some time to kill. I looked at the time stamp on the last message and saw that she had sent it just 10 minutes before I landed.

Feeling risky, I wrote her back and asked, "How will I recognize you?”

Making my way down the airport concourse I stepped into the nearest magazine shop and purchased a bag of peanut M&M's and the latest copy of Penthouse Forum. Being at my brother’s house for a week was going to be challenging, so a little entertainment was in order.

I pocketed the change and used that moment for a quick status check. I realized that reading skigirl24’s text messages and buying a magazine had started to make me hard. I thought about my brother’s house and the outdoor spa that he installed last year and smiled, looking forward to some private time with my magazine and some powerful water jets.

My luggage appeared on the revolving carousel at 3:25 PM. I grabbed my two bags and stood in line for the outgoing security check. As I was handing my luggage claim tickets to the obviously bored gate agent, my cell phone vibrated and gave the chirp that let me know a text message had arrived.

It was from her. "I will be the one in the skirt that is way too short for Colorado in winter."

I hardened a bit more.

I didn't know if my brother's son was married, engaged, or just dating this girl, but I had gotten the impression from family phone calls that it was getting serious. I made a mental note to myself that I should talk to my brother more than every three months. His kids were getting older things were changing quickly and I felt out of touch.

My winter coat was in the outside pocket of my bag so I pulled it out and slipped it on as I stepped to the curb of baggage claim #3. It was 3:35 PM.

A dark blue and very dirty Nissan Rogue pulled up to the curb. It caught my eye because I knew that it was not out on the market yet so the driver must have connections to a dealership. I was looking at the front grill and mentally comparing it to other cars in its class when she walked around the front and looked at me.

"Uncle Jon?”

“SkiGirl24?” I responded, and extended my hand.

"It's Cassie in real life," she said as she stepped toward me gently slapping my hand out of the way to give me a hug, "you are family, and I am a hugger, so a handshake just won't do."

"Your description is right," I said, trying not to stare too much at her bare legs and boots, "you must be freezing in that outfit."

"Hopefully I won't be in it for long." She said with a giggle. "Boy, did that come out wrong or what?"

She walked to the back of the car and popped open the hatch and I tossed in my bags. I closed it once again and she was standing there staring at me, her short skirt moving softly in the chilly breeze, her long blond hair covering and uncovering her face. She brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her left ear, and looked at me with a wistful smile.

"This is going to be weird."

Merry Christmas!!

For those of you who are tired of "Miracle on 34th Street" and "It's a Wonderful life"

Here are some cinematic alternatives.....

http://www.gamelink.com/naked_truth.jhtml?id=christmas-porn-list

And here is a naughty little elf..

http://www.asredas.com/gallery/554/Dream_Girls/The_best_of_Xmas_Greetings_from_Victoria_Valmer/

And lots more Christmas fun...

http://babesandbitches.net/merry-christmas-5839/

http://www.asredas.com/?tag=Christmas

Thoughts on the way to vacation

It is 4:55 PM on Friday, December 19, 2008. My carpool partner and I are leaving in 4 1/2 minutes to start our Christmas vacations. I had every intention to write a wonderful little story about a Christmas not so long ago, which was both fun and erotic, obviously before I had kids.

I was inspired through this memory by some friends who were talking about sex around the Christmas tree, sex at your parent’s house while on vacation, and sex at awkward moments. All three of these situations gave rise to a wonderful experience from a few years ago. I will endeavor this week to get time to write, I am also waiting on a friend of mine (you know who you are) to send me some ideas to work into the story.

For not all "true" stories need to be true. I find it fun, delightful even, to include facts, ideas, and descriptions, from other people in my writing. One of my best stories, in fact, was written at the request of a friend of mine who had a scenario about a hotel room in her head that she frequently used while masturbating. Knowing that I was feeding the fire that fuels her arousal inspired me to write, what I think is one of my very best stories. Unfortunately I wrote this years ago, long before blogs were invented, and the only copy that is in existence, if she hasn't burned it, was a hard copy that was printed out at work and promptly deleted.

I have regretted not keeping a copy of that story because Elizabeth said she got off on it almost every week. She said it would have been more frequently but she came so hard, she claimed, that she was always sore for a few days between each reading.

She did give me the privilege of listening to her read it over the phone once as she began touching herself. She never let me hear her cum to orgasm. Things would be getting very hot, very steamy, and very interesting, and the phone would just click and go silent. Knowing that she was cumming in the moments after that click was always a powerful arousal for me as well, but I was sorry that she never let me hear the real thing.

Anyway, the point of that last little bit was to say that I love getting ideas from other people to work into my stories, or to write stories from scratch based on fantasies and ideas that other people have. Sometimes I get it right and, like Elizabeth, my friends have new "help" to get themselves off. On occasion, I have gotten the fantasy completely wrong and have been told that I have no idea what women want. Tell me something I don't know.

I will try to find time to write, I will try to find time to have sex at my dads house, I will try to find time to have sex under the Christmas tree in front of the fire at my dads house. This might actually happen this year since my sister and her husband, who have lived with my father for several years, have just moved out and finally gone back to his parent’s neighborhood in Ohio.

While they were in the house, with their three kids, sex in front of the fireplace would have meant doing it on the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor. I don't know about you, but I agree with Sally in the movie "When Harry Met Sally" when she said that they never did it on the kitchen floor, it was I recall, hard Terrazzo tile.

The company Christmas party

In these tough economic times a lot of companies are cutting back on the perks that employees have come to expect. Many have cancelled their Christmas parties, bonuses, the free ham, the complimentary hookers, and the free booze at lunch. Luckily, my company, and my industry as a whole are done well. Some are up while others are down, and I’m sure our turn is coming. There are already rumors that the company will cut last year’s bonus in anticipation of next year’s problems. Which, of course, is bullshit, but that is the topic of another rant.

We went ahead with our party this year, mainly because it had already been planned about 10 months ago, you see, we have had the same party 9 years in a row. The only thing that has changed was the addition of a chocolate fondue fountain in 2005, and a new band every three years. I have been to this party 9 times and only seen 3 bands. Mind you, the party is very nice, the food is great, the sushi was fresh, the prime rib divine, the wine free and free flowing, and the desert bar is wonderful. It’s just that it’s been exactly the same each year. The big twist this year was that they put the buffet line on the east side of the ballroom instead of on the north side. We were all quite shocked.

As with all company parties, the music was too loud for decent conversation, all but one set dated from the last 60s to the early 80’s, which was fun in a “high school reunion” kind of way, but come on people, learn a few songs that you didn’t hear on the Oldies Station 6 years ago. I was talking to my girlfriend’s date and we had to admit that we couldn’t hear a word the other was saying. We literally had five 1-minute conversations between songs. We got one question and one answer on each break, tops. The best party was during the band’s breaks when they put on background music that was from this era, was danceable, and was low enough that conversations lasted longer than 30 seconds.

As with all parties, the main activity is seeing who’s with who, who is wearing what, and who got too drunk too quickly.

The big surprise was that I didn’t really see anyone get drunk this year. Probably because they shut down the bar early. We always have cocktails and shrimp in the south lobby, and this year was the same as always. Until, until one of our executives decided to take a nose dive about ½ way through cocktail hour. There I was getting my egg rolls, when our CFO was on the floor, flat on his back. Our security team immediately called 911 and surrounded him so no one could see what was going on. After a quick word to the matre’d, the banquet doors opened (15 minutes early), the bars began to shut down, and we were all shuffled off to our tables.

When I snuck out a few minutes later to use the LBR, the paramedics were there but not doing anything but talking to him. No IVs, no obvious sign of panic, no chest compressions, no action at all. To me this meant that he was OK or already dead. I am guessing the former because I hope that they would have said something if it was more serious. We were all guessing if they were going to make any announcement on Monday, but our company is notoriously private about it’s executives, enough so that the SEC complained when one of our guy died after a long bout with cancer and we had never mentioned it to the stock market press.

Our bad. 

OK, to the bars closed early and dinner actually started on time.

So that leaves us with the couples and the fashion. I wish that I had brought my camera, but the spousal unit didn’t want to bother, so I’ll give a quick run down of what I can remember.

The worst dress by far was the wife of our head of accounting. It was a red and black chiffon monstrosity. She is about 40 pounds overweight, so of course she had her boobs hanging out and the dress was gathered at the hips like she had gotten it stuck in her pantyhose after going to the bathroom. Combined with her bad makeup, she looked like an over-the-hill lounge singer who had trouble in the rest room.

Other bad dresses included dresses that were too tight, colors that made your eyes bleed, makeup that made you unrecognizable, and hair that was straight from the tornado scene from “The Wizard of Oz.” There is a large group of Philapino women in my company that I know by sight, but I don’t know their name. I se them but don’t work with them, and, as bad as this sounds, they all look the same to me. At the party, however, I couldn’t recognize any of them. I had to ask my tablemates who they were. They would tell me and I’d go, “What? Is that her?” I must have said that a dozen times. Do these people not own a mirror? Don’t they know that the “love you long time” girls are hookers and not super models? I don’t get it.

Other great dresses included Mariane in Goth chic, long black dress, tight white and black top with a funky pattern that evoked more Halloween than Christmas, and a heavy black cross hanging just above a hint of cleavage. She topped it iwht a floor-length coat that gave her the appearance of always making a grand entrance when she moved. Quite stunning.

Carri-Ann was radiant in a short cream colored cocktail dress with a layer of black organza over the skirt. She arrived with capped sleeves a princess neckline, and her tall dreamy husband on her arm. Her shoes were black to match and, when she crossed her legs, the tops of her hosery peaked out, given you glimpse and a tease, but nothing more. Her blonde tresses were in an “up ‘do” and her tear-drop diamond necklace sparkled against her pale white skin. I would have preferred a darker stone and earring set to contrast against her hair and skin tone, but she looked wonderful.

JD, who almost ditched us for another party, looked fun and flirty in a halter topped dress that reminded me of Marilyn Monroe’s classic white dress Black instead of white, and a touch longer, it highlighted her beautiful figure without actually showing any of it. Her short blond hair was countered by black pendant earrings and a matching necklace, a thin chain chocker with a black stone that dangled low enough to direct your eyes to her chest without stranding you there with no were else to look. She had been debating between this dress and another more revealing one on loan from her friend’s dress shop. I asked her to model the 2nd dress for me, but she declined, saying that she wanted me to think of her as a “nice girl.” I replied that her answer served only to make me want to see the dress more.

The accounting department has had a lot of turn over with new management coming in September, but they have added to stunning women that made their debut last night. The first I saw was a tall and leggy blonde in a very short LBD (little black dress) with almost no make-up and simple diamond stud earrings with a matching necklace. A simple gold chain and a single diamond hung delicately at the nadir. The other, a shorter brunette was in a classic blue tea dress with killer shoes, 4+” heels and patterned hose that brought your attention to her firm and obviously athletic calves. I will have to make more trips to accounting this week.

The highlights came, of course, from my wife and my girlfriend.

Having them at the same party was quite interesting.....

A quick rant on the way to the bus...

I have exactly 8 minutes until I have to go to the bus.

I have had a very good day today, even though I was dealing with idiots for most of that time.

I finished two big projects at work, sending them back to the managers for review and comment. My main comment of them was that their staff was full of idiots these are the idiots as mentioned above. I also got a call from my friends stockbroker, one of the sleaziest man I have ever talked to. And talking to my friend he freely admits that his stockbroker breaks the law constantly. I am not in the mood to go to jail. I am, as they say, too pretty for jail.

When I tried to tell him that I was not in the mood to jump into a extremely volatile market with what little money I had left, he acted as if I was an idiot. So I hung up on him. It made my day a much better place.

The link below proves that people who are in the fashion business have no business telling me about fashion.

http://jakandjil.com/blog/

The only saving grace to the post linked above is the blonde hottie on the right at this link http://jakandjil.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/alee1.jpg the blonde on the left is also cute, but she is wearing horrible clothes, no matter how much she paid for them.

The other good news is that last night I had some fucking amazing sex. I know that sounds redundant because fucking is sex, but I occasionally like to use the F. word as an adjective and last night it applied.

We got in bed early, mainly because I was exhausted. She snuggled in next to me at about 10:30 PM, and actually started kissing me on my neck. That woke me up quickly and when she took off her pajama top, and stuck her hand down my pants, I figured she was serious. Because I was so sleepy, things got started slowly. We kissed and touched for a long time before I even got hard. Because things were moving so gently, it put her in an aggressive mood, I guess, and she, as they say, took things in hand.

After a few minutes of touching each other in our favorite places, she actually asked me if I wanted a little 69. Fully awake, and fully aroused, I didn't take long to assume the position. 10 minutes later we were both on the verge and she asked to change positions and I climbed quickly on top. A few more moments in missionary position and I was finished with a powerful orgasm.

We quickly pulled out her vibrator and finished her off. The best part about her finish was that she gave this terrific little gasp when I... Well, let's just leave it at that and maybe I'll finish this post later, but now I have to run for my bus.

Sunday Morning

I don't blog much on Sunday mornings, or even over the weekend, for that matter. I try to stay busy with friends and family and get a little bit of fresh air outside. I am actually dictating this on Thursday evening and will schedule it to post on Sunday morning just to give the illusion that I am writing something every day. I don't know why I've been on a kick to write, but I know I have posted more in the past few days than in a long time.

I enjoy going to church on Sundays. I like the message that is delivered, I enjoy seeing my friends, and I truly believe that it helps me to stay centered if my life focuses on spiritual things as well as the mundane. Occasionally I am asked to sit up front are facing the congregation, in order to help with crowd control as people come in and out of the chapel. After everyone is seated I remain upfront, and while I know that I should be listening to the sermon, I can't help it but let my mind wander.

There are a lot of beautiful women in my congregation. It's not "my" congregation, so get that thought out of your head. What I meant to say was, but as I look out over the crowd I know I will see 20 to 30 extremely beautiful women, and triple that if you just want run-of-the-mill beautiful, or day-to-day sexy.

I wish I had pictures of them all to post, it really is a treat to sit up front, I am also concerned about giving out any real names, on the bizarrely paranoid notion that someone who knows me may actually someday read this blog, connect the dots, and out me as a man erotica writer and VBB (Very Bad Blogger).

All of the names have been changed in this entry. I have a few minutes before going to my buss and I thought I would fantasize a bit and share it with you.

Starting on the front left of the hall...

Kelly -short, slim, well muscled and tan, I know that she is completely waxed because of a very strange, late-night conversation I had with her two months ago. I asked her if she liked kissing her husband with his full beard, and without missing a beat, she said, "I took all my hair off, so he felt like he had to grow his in." Looking at her in the crowd, knowing that her sweet little body is completely shaved, is very arousing.

Samantha-a typical tall blonde California girl. Her parties put Martha Stewart to shame and I fantasize about her swimming naked in her backyard pool late at night while I watch from the upper bedroom window. In my fantasy she climbs out of the pool, nude and dripping wet, her body glistening shiny in the full moon’s glow. She lays on her chaise lounge, spreads her legs, touches herself, and stares right at me and beckons me to join her with a wave of her hand.

Kathy-is simply the most beautiful woman in the church. Porcelain skin, long brown hair, and currently very pregnant. The thought of rubbing lotion on her belly and her ready to lactating breasts is almost too much to stand. Of all the women I see on Sunday, she is the one I would want to get a blow job from. Something about the idea of having my cock in her sweet and innocent mouth, though she is the mother of four and soon to be five, is extremely erotic.

Michelle-she turned 18 this summer so that legal for me to include her on this list. As one of our youth leaders she got everyone's attention this summer at girl’s camp. While her swimming suits were always modest one-piece of affairs, it was impossible to hide the amazing teenage body that was just one thin layer of fabric away. I was only up at the camp for one day, picking up some of the girls who had to come home early, but luckily for me it was the day we all went swimming. The sight of her long, strong legs kicking her body through the water and she swim across Lake was terrific she pulled herself up out of the water at the end of the dock where I was sitting, and picked up her towel. She was the simple personification of youthful beauty, and the image of her has stuck in my head since that day.

I know that was only four of the many women I see at church each Sunday, but I wanted to say a little bit about them. Maybe I'll continue on my list in a few days or maybe I'll feel guilty for fantasizing about women who come to church to be better people not to be oogled by the ushers

We’ll see.

Questions in the Aftermath of Prop 8

I have deliberately avoided political discussions on this blog. While I am deeply immersed in the political discussions of our day in my daily life, this blog is not about politics, it's about sex, dysfunction, and my occasional rant. There are many people who write about politics in ways that I admire. I have my opinions, but I largely keep them to myself. I enjoy talking, writing, and thinking about sex a lot more than I like to write, talk, and think about politics.

I live in the state that, on November 4, made it impossible for gay couples to marry. While Prop 8 in California got most of the national attention, many people forget that 27 states have passed similar legislation. I am not here to discuss the pros and cons of gay marriage, but the national mood is quite clear. I can understand the frustration of the gay community; votes like this make it very clear that the majority of Americans still see their lifestyle as either immoral, or inappropriate. To be told that what you are doing is wrong, again and again, and by millions of people, must be maddening. As Americans we are told that we must not discriminate, but as Christians we are told that we must judge right from wrong. This is where the church and state collide. The gay community does not seem to want to admit that the fundamental conflict is that the majority of Americans believe that the gay lifestyle is immoral, and should not be encouraged. Most politically aware Christians feel this conflict deeply and have had to make uncomfortable choices between their political and religious beliefs. I know many friends who voted for Prop 8 but privately hoped that it would be defeated. They wanted to vote for the morally correct choice in their hearts, but have the politically comfortable solution win at the ballot box.

However, the behavior of the protesters in California, defacing churches, attacking parishioners, vandalism, disruption of church services, etc., is a horrible way to get conservative and middle-of-the-road voters on your side.

But, enough about that.

The real reason for this post is to explore an idea I had in responding to an older post by Lisa about the election and the gay marriage issue.

Most of my Christian friends object to gay marriage because, they see it as a redefinition of a sacred covenant between a man, a woman, and God. They do not see marriage as a civil contract, but as a spiritual commitment, and being in the spiritual realm, they believe that moral judgments are valid. They do not want gay couples marrying because they believe that gay people are living an immoral lifestyle, and therefore should not be allowed into a sacred, holy, union before God. And, let me clarify, that when I say "God" I am speaking of a Christian deity, the father of Jesus Christ, and the author of the Old and New Testament. I do not know, and therefore do not claim to represent, the moral teachings of non-Christian faiths. I also acknowledged that that there are many Christian faiths that support gay marriage, but they have to admit, in doing that, they are taking a very loose, very modern interpretation of the Scriptures, one that is focused on the concept of "universal love" instead of the concepts of laws, obedience, and consequences as taught in the Old and New Testament. Jesus Christ taught that the way to heaven was, in fact, a very narrow, and that people had to sacrifice their own free will to remain on the path and get through the gates of heaven.

The "universal love" concept of God ignore 95% of the Scriptures that teach that true discipleship is based on obedience to the laws and commandments given by Jesus, which were built on the fundamental laws of the Old Testament.

But again I digress. Here is my main question and the reason for this post.


I would like to propose the separation of the religious and civil aspects of marriage.

What if the US shifted to a system similar to many in Europe, where EVERY couple had to get married civilly before they got married in a church?

The church wedding would be stripped of its legal status and becomes a gesture between the couple and God, and not a legally binding action.

The civil marriage would be a legal action and not a moral one, God would be taken out of the process for non-believers, and those who wanted to have a church wedding would be free to do what ever they wanted. They could freely, and without fear of litigation, marry only those whom they chose to marry, since it was a legally irrelevant ceremony.

• Would the churches accept this new role if it meant that the gay community could no longer complain?
  
  
• Would they willingly give up the power to legally wed to people?
  
  
• What would this do to the marriage industry if every marriage was a civil transaction at the courthouse?
  
  
• Would the culture of lavish church weddings diminish if every couple was already married civilly?
  
  
• Would this increase or decrease divorce rates if "couples" were defined by a sterile contract?
  
  
• Would it be easier to get married if it was such a low-key affair?
  
  
• Would people be more prone to get divorced if getting married was "no big deal”?
  
  
• When fewer people go to church, knowing that their priest was no longer the arbiter of their wedding day?
  
  
• Would the religious communities influence diminish because they no longer controlled anything but the ceremonial aspect?

I'm not sure of the answers to any of these questions, but a simple shift from a religious ceremony with legal implications to a situation where they are separate, would have interesting, but and far-reaching effects.

I would love to hear your ideas and thoughts on this issue.

10 things I should have asked her to do

1. Pee in my shower

2. Lay naked in my bed

3. Drop the towel

4. Touch it

5. Kiss me in the forest

6. Give me her panties before she left for the day
7. Bend over
8. Take more pictures
9. Invite me in
10. Come back

53 things I wish my wife understood

1. There is no bad time for sex – This includes at, or during family gatherings, while the kids are awake, while they are asleep, while they are watching TV in the next room, in the morning when I am running late (I can always catch the next bus), or …. There really is no bad time for sex.

2. Yes, a hand job is always acceptable if you are too tired to fuck me or suck me. It is appropriate while we drive, watch a movie, or wait for our order at Starbucks

3. Swallowing does not make you a slut.

4. Talking dirty does not make you dirty. It is OK to admit that you are going to cum, you have just cum, or that you really want to cum.

5. Being horny is OK.

6. Asking for sex is a wonderful gesture, and it makes me feel that you find me desirable.

7. Yes, doing it doggie style does make your butt look big, that is why I like it.

8. I do not need to, or really want to, cum on your face, in your hair, or in your eyes, but don’t act like it is radioactive either, even if a little bit ends up on your stomach, chest, thigh, or, heaven forbid, the sheets.

9. Sex is supposed to be messy sometimes. If I ask you to pull out the cheap sheets, and baby oil, go with it.

10. I’m OK if you look taller than me at the Christmas party. I bought you the 4” stilettos for a reason.

11. You will not get in a car crash today, so it’s OK to go without underwear.

12. I bought you lingerie because I think you look good in it., and yes, because it makes you look sexy, and frankly, a little slutty, but the video camera is off and I’m not telling the neighbors, so you can take off your floor length robe now.

13. Fucking with the lights on is wonderful.

14. There is never “enough” sex, I will want you pretty much all the time, when you are tired, hungry, hung-over, sick, busy, tired, cranky, on your period or off, at 4 PM as much as at 4:00 AM. Get used to it.

15. I love touching you, please don’t pull away. Not every touch, caress, fondle or grope means I want sex, it just mean it just means that I find you attractive.

16. The trampoline is a perfectly legitimate location for sex. I planted the tall trees and built the fence for a reason.

17. You have some exceptionally beautiful friends. I’m going to notice. Please don’t get too upset.

18. I will wake up hard and huge almost every morning. It is my favorite erection of the day. Please take advantage.

19. Being sexually aggressive, going for your own orgasm, taking control of the situation, is incredibly, wonderfully sexy. Please act on it more often.

20. Yes, I wanted to have sex with your sister, but that was before I met you, and I no longer want to. She’s turned out to be a whinny little bitch anyway.

21. I want to have sex with women at work, but I will not, because I love you. I would love to have sex with you at work. My door has a lock.

22. I want to have sex with you because I love you. You also happen to make me very horny.

23. When I tell you that I love your smile, your butt, your breasts, your pussy, the way you taste, the way you smell, the look on your face when you cum, the way you try to stay quiet during sex, believe me and don’t insult yourself or brush it off. Accept my compliment, kiss me, and get back to fucking.

24. I love to masturbate, I really do. This has almost nothing to do with how I feel about you. It feels good; it’s easy, fun, and quick. Don’t feel like you have to compete.

25. I would rather have sex with you than with myself.

26. Making love to you helps me love you.

27. Having sex makes me feel loved, accepted, and safe.

28. The more we have sex the less I look at porn.

29. I have stopped looking at porn (mostly) because you asked me too, not because I don’t like it. Please give me credit for making the decision. Don’t argue with my motives. I will always like porn.

30. I love you madly, so it kills me when you reject me sexually, it really rips me a apart.

31. If I ask you to try something different, it does not mean that I am bored, it means I am trying not to get bored.

32. Your pathological fear of being tied up, even playfully, worries me. I wonder if someone has hurt you in the past.

33. The one time we had anal sex you loved it, it was one of the biggest orgasm we have ever shared. Why can’t we do it again?

34. Please masturbate. Prove to me that you want sex enough to take it for yourself.

35. A few years ago I was hoping that you were having an affair. I wanted to know that you wanted sex with someone, even if it wasn’t me, then, maybe you would want sex with me eventually.

36. I cheated on you because I felt lonely, rejected, and un-needed. So I had those needs met by someone else. The way she smiled when she saw me, the way she would flirt and laugh, and beg for me to meet her in the break room so she could show me her panties was a rush that I wish I got from you.

37. I will not hit on our cute babysitter. She’s only 16 for goodness sakes. I want some tail, but not jail.

38. I want you to look forward to having sex with me, not resigned to it.

39. I want to have sex that lasts more than the 10 minutes you give me at the end of a long and very tiring day, I want to make sex a priority, a passion, something to look forward to, to plan for, to anticipate. I want to know that you are looking forward to having my cock inside you.

40. I want you to see me and say, “Wow, I want to suck that dick. I want him to fuck me, I want to get fucked, I want to cum. I want you to want me. I need you to need me.

41. 69 is one of my favorite positions, please remember that and climb aboard.

42. I think it is cool that you like your vibrator, I love using it with you, on you, and knowing that you have it. Watching you cum is one of my favorite things, I don’t care how we get there.

43. When the bedroom door is locked, and the kids are asleep, it is OK to use the word “fuck”

44. I know you talk about me with your girlfriends, just be nice and add 2” to what ever you say.

45. Lisa is hot because she goes to the gym, if I see her there and notice that fact, please don’t get upset.

46. No, I don’t like wearing clothes, and yes, if I could be naked more I would be, but the people at my office complain too much.

47. My nipples are not made of glass, rough ‘em up a little.

48. Yes, your sister-in-law dresses like a whore, but no, it is not a turn on. It was 15 years and 30 pounds ago, but not now. She is a cow in a hooker suit.

49. I wonder if you were abused as a child. You seem to be afraid of many things.

50. There are days when I hate being married to you. Those days scare me because I really love you.

51. If we ever divorce, I’m taking $10,000 and spending it all on beautiful hookers who will do what ever I want.

52. Please, at lease, pretend to like it more, I’m very delusional. If that is what it takes, I can pretend too.

53. My mom and dad didn’t have sex for the final 28 years of their lives. That is unacceptable. If you won’t fuck me, I will find someone who will, but I don’t want to. I want to fuck you.

My Next meeting - Part 2

 OK, so this how it actually played out.

She arrived, as usual, about 10 minutes late and more than a bit out of breath. She is a fanatic for taking the stairs between floors and had, in her words, “sprinted” the three flights to make it to my office on time, but then, she continued, “I got caught by Janice from the server team and I had to find out about her date with the new Cisco rep.” She laughed out loud at the thought of Janice dating anyone, but then realized who mean she sounded and controlled her giggles for a few minutes.

“I mean, really,” she snickered, “Janice?”

“Why not Janice?” I asked; confused at why Janice didn’t deserve a little loving like the rest of us.

“I mean, I don’t know, I…” she stuttered to a stop as she fed her thoughts through her mental filter. “It’s just that Janice is so, plain, I guess, and the Cisco guy is so cute.”

“Hmm.” Was my only reply, I didn’t like this side of her and I didn’t want to continue the conversation.

“I mean she’s nice enough, you know, and Lord knows I couldn’t run accounting without her,” she said, waving her arms in the air in a gesture that was, I guess, supposed to indicate helplessness, “but why would a guy like Darrell ask her out?”

“Maybe he didn’t,” I interjected, “Maybe she asked him out?”

“I guess,” she replied with a strained look on her face, “He just doesn’t seem to be the wimpy type.”

“What does that mean?”

“Come on, you know,” she sounded indignant, “I didn’t see him as the type of guy that let the girl call the shots. I thought he was more of a man than that. That’s all.”

“So you think that just because he said yes to a dinner invitation from a ‘plain’ girl who happens to be a wiz in their shared field, and one of his top customers, that he is weak?”

“Well, duh,” she retorted, “The guy should be in charge.”

“In charge? All the time?”

“Yes.” She said, surprising me with her lack of an obvious feminist streak, “It’s his job.”

“All the time?”

“Yes”

“Even at work?”

“Yes”

“Then kiss me.”

“What?”

“I’m in charge now, so kiss me.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I mean…” it was obvious that she was struggling with her answer. “I mean…”

I took her shoulders in my hands and turned her towards me.

“Kiss. Me.”

And she did, a quick kiss on the lips and then she pulled back.

“Again.”

“What? No?” It came out as a question.

“I am the man; I am in charge, Kiss Me.”

And she did. This time she leaned in slowly and kissed me gently on the lips. She didn’t pull away from me and let her lips linger on mine for a moment longer than strictly required to fulfill my order.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, no was it?”

“No sir.” She replied with a quiet voice. “It was quite nice.”

“Shhhh. I didn’t give you permission to speak.

I turned away from her and brought up some documents on the screen for our review. Already our meeting had gone from highly anticipated to extremely bizarre. Had I really just ordered the prettiest woman in the office to kiss me? twice?

“Tell me what you know about your project plan.” I said, and leaned back to let her have control of my computer.

She started by describing the team charter, the sponsor organization, and the overall timeline. Ten minutes in to her presentation I told her to stop.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your skirt is too tight.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“No, it is, it’s too tight. Unzip it.”

“Now?”

“Yes now,” I raised my voice a fraction of a decibel and looked directly at her.

Without another word she took her hands from the keyboard tray. Her left hand reached forward and held the hem of her skirt, resting modestly on her knee, while her right hand grabbed the small black zipper and began to pull.

She stopped after three or four inches, and she raised her eyes to mine.

“That is enough,” I said, “For now.” My head was spinning. What had just happened? How much shit was I going to be in when HR heard about this, when she came to her senses and realized what was happening.

“Tell me about your department’s contingency planning.” I snapped, bringing her focus back to the project on the screen. She started and began a detailed explanation of their disaster recovery and business continuation plans. I let her talk for about 10 minutes.

“Take a break.” I said, and she took her hands from the keyboard and rested them in her lap. She glanced over at me and gave me a quizzical look, brushing her long blonde hair out of her eyes at the same time.

“Can I get you anything?” She asked.

“Why thank you, I could use some ginger snaps from the break room.”

She stood to go, and I caught her glancing at my oversized coffee mug that doubled as a change dish, it was full of coins with a layer of Susan B. Anthony dollars on top.

“You pick up this round,” I said. “I’ll get the next.”

“Yes sir.” She replied. She hadn’t brought her purse, of course, so she would have to go back to her desk to get the $1.40 for my cookies.

She turned to go.

“Janice.”

“Yes?”

“Take the stairs.”

Her eyes flared at me but she didn’t respond. I figured that by the time she got back, if she came back, I would either be on the HR Hit List for sexual harassment or on the fast track to her panties. It was a crap shoot, but I was rolling the dice with all I had.

15 minutes later, a quiet tapping started on my door.

“Hold on please.” Called out, and quickly shut down the web-sites that filled my screen. One was her IMDB.com page that had all of her films listed. Her parts were mostly “Girl #2 in elevator” type rolls, but she had two films “in production” that actually had big names associated with them, and she had a character’s name in each. So she was moving on up. The other screens were soft-core sights that had just enough nudity to be interesting, but not so much that they tripped my company’s web-blocking software.

I tucked my cock to the side to hide my arousal and opened the door. She not only had my ginger snaps but a tall hot chocolate from the café on the first floor.

She was breathing deeply and trying not to sound out of breath, but it was obvious that she had taken the stairs up all 9 floors, or, she was smart enough to get off on the 6^th floor and hoof it up to give me the illusion of submission.

“Did you get something for yourself?”

“No sir.”

I closed the door behind her and gestured for her to take her seat at my conference room table. I took the hot chocolate from her hand and let her keep the cookies.

“You can have those; it’s not the kind I like.”

She seemed upset at herself. There are three kinds of cookies in our little café, and I love them all, but she didn’t need to know that.

I had her sit at my mahogany table and I powered up my second computer. Its screen was bigger and was meant for presentations, but I wanted to get her out from behind my desk.

As she stared at the screen, waiting for the login window to appear, I saw a bead of sweat run down her neck from under her hair. She had swept it up in a tangled bun while she was gone and it showed just how beautiful her shoulders and face were. Sitting there waiting, I stared openly and admired the angle of her nose, the slight upturn of her lips, the angular, muscular lines of her neck. Her blouse was open one button more than when she left, perhaps from the heat of climbing the stairs.

“Did you get any scuttlebutt about Janice while you were gone?”

“Just a little, I got a text from a Lois that he is taking her to see the Wagner “Rings” production at the opera house.”

“So he has some class.” I said.

“Or he is pretending to. He must have learned that Janice was fine arts major in college.”

“At least he cared enough to ask about it.”

“And he’s pussy enough to suffer through 3 hours of bad German opera to prove it.”

“Maybe he likes bad German opera.”

She looked at me like I was crazy. “No one likes Wagner, they just pretend to.”

“Unzip your skirt.”

“More? Why?”

“Because I’m not a Cisco Rep.” I chuckled, “I know what I want and I’m not sitting through 3 hours of opera to get it.”

The logon screen presented itself but her hands were at the zipper first and she zipped the zipper all the way to the waistband of her skirt.

“Is that acceptable, Sir?”

“For now.”

“Log in to your server, pull up your budget numbers, and tell me about the return on investment proposal.”

She followed my instructions and we discussed her budget, her investment assumptions, and the possible payback scenarios. Occasionally the fabric of her skirt would fall between her legs, exposing her bare upper thigh. She quietly reached down to the hem of her skirt and pull the fabric back in to place.

“Leave it.” I said the next time it happened.

She sat up tall in her chair and shifted her wait back and forth, allowing the material to fall completely off her leg, exposing her skin to the waistband of her skirt. I didn’t see anything else and I wondered if she was wearing anything at all.

“Go to your personal files.” I instructed.

“Wh…”she stifled the “why” before the word even got out and she complied, switching servers and opening a new window with her private files.

“What are you looking for?”

“Just interested.”

She shifted in her seat now, more nervous.

“Hmmmm, what is this?” I put my hand over hers and directed her to double-click on a folder marked, “Friends”. I left my hand on top of hers, feeling her soft skin under mine. She did not pull away.

A long list of files opened up, all with long names that told me nothing.

I moved up to click on the “View” button and tried to click on the “Thumbnails” button.

She resisted.

“Do we need to look here, sir?”

“Why not? Do you have something to hide?”

“It’s just….” Her voice trailed off. “It’s just that I don’t have a personal computer and so I use my work laptop at home, and, you know, I like to save some of the pictures I find.” She hung her head and I looked at her eyes, they were brimming with tears, and I know that she thought she was in trouble.

“I need to know.” I said. “Trust me.”

She moved her hand and changed the view to Thumbnails and the file names morphed into hundreds of pictures of women. Some alone, some with others, some dressed, some in bikinis and lingerie, and, as I scrolled down, some in nothing at all. Some with toys, some with boys, some with their legs open, some on their knees, some with their mouths full of cock, breast, and pussy.

“Are you going to fire me?” she said the tears evident in her voice now.

“This is serious.” I replied and got up.

She grabbed my wrist and stopped me. “Please” was all she said.

I turned my arm until I she let go and then I took her hand and lifted her up out of her chair.

“Kiss me.” I whispered, and she did. She leaned in softly and our lips met again. She opened her mouth slightly and I felt her tongue enter. It was soft and delicate and moved smoothly over my lips and hesitantly met my tongue. I kissed her back and wrapped my arms around her and brought her body in close to mine. I felt her chest against mine and was careful not to squeeze too hard. I broke our kiss and snuggled my lips into the crook of her neck, inhaling her perfume and hair and skin.

I stepped out of our embrace and said, “First things first.”

From my top drawer I pulled a new USB memory stick out of its sealed package and plugged it in to the port on the side of my computer. She stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders. I navigated on the screen and pulled the “Friends” folder icon on to the memory stick and stared moving the files.

“Are there any others?” I asked, “Don’t hold back, we have to get them all.”

“Go to the X0-TF4 folder,” I recognized the number as a cost center designation but when I clicked on the icon another folder called “Favorites” appeared. I clicked on it and a list of 103 files appeared.

“Click on slideshow” she said, these she wanted me to see.

The first picture was of a beautiful redhead straddling the waist of a brunette. The top girl was naked except for a pair of sheer panties that the brunette was pulling to the side. The second photo was the same couple in a perfectly posed 69, the redhead on top, her mouth open to taste her dark haired friend. The next several photos documented their liaison in explicit detail.

“Should I keep going?” I asked.

“Yes please.” I turned around to look at her and saw that her right hand was under her skirt, on her bare thigh, and she pulled it out in embarrassment as I turned.

“It’s OK,” I assured her, “these are beautiful pictures. But I want you to take the keyboard.”

I had her sit on my lap and take the mouse. She clicked steadily through the pictures and I placed my hand on her leg, by her knee.

“Take my hand.” I ordered.

She placed her hand on mine and slid my hand upward until it was under her skirt and then she turned the palm of my hand inward and placed my hand on her panties. They felt like silk, smooth, wet, silk. She shifted her weight on my lap and opened her legs to my touch.

“Tell me what you like.”

“Small circles.” I laughed out loud and she dropped her head in shame.

“I was asking about the pictures, but I like the way you are starting to think.” She snapped her legs closed, trapping my hand deep between her thighs. I cupped her crotch in my hand and pressed my fingertips hard against the soft skin of her lips. I pressed my wrist back and forth and leaned in close to her, pressing my lips against her ear.

“I’m in charge here.” My fingers pressed roughly into the wet, soft center between her legs and she gasped. I pressed harder and she started to resist. “Do you really want me to stop? I tell you when to stop.” The words coming out of my mouth shocked me, but she responded so quickly that I couldn’t stop.

She opened her legs again and moved forward onto the hard bone of my knee. With my fingertips making small pressing circles through her panties she began to rock herself back and forth on my leg. I could feel the thin silk of her underwear move back and forth as she moved her body against mine, trying to find the right level of friction and pressure to bring her pleasure. She clicked on the "slideshow" option on my picture viewer and the pictures began to scroll by on their own. Some of them were gentle kisses, some more pictures of unadorned passion, fingers, tongues, and lips intertwined. Some were of demure women with their legs crossed and their eyes looking softly at the camera, others were of wanton women their legs and lips spread, their cunts exposed, wet, red, and some were beautiful pictures of penetration, fruit, cocks, and fists.

Her wetness was soaking through her panties, coating my fingertips as her orgasm approached. She leaned forward, trying to get the right angle of pressure on her clit, but it wasn't working, her orgasm was stalling and she was getting frustrated.

"Do you want to turn around?" I asked, "Are you ready to cum for me?"

She could not breathe but not at her head furiously in agreement, and stood up.

"Take off your skirt." I barked. She glanced quickly at the door to my office and then back to me, making deep eye contact.

"The door is locked." Was all I said.

Her hands came to the class on her left hip and she undid her skirt and it fell to the floor.

"Take off your blouse." I continued to command her, undressing her one piece at a time, until she stood before me dressed only in her tiny panties and a thin lace bra.

"I want you to come for me. I want you to have an orgasm in my office, I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers while I watch. Come for me."

She placed her long manicured fingers inside her panties and began to plunge fiercely into the damp center of her pussy. I could see her fingers moving in rapid circles around her clit, moving quickly underneath the silky fabric, bringing her orgasm closer with each circle. I stood in front of her and took off my pants, dropping him to the floor next to her skirt and quickly discarded my silk boxers in like manner. My cock was huge and hard and shiny. It was ready for her, I wanted her.

I walked behind my desk, away from her, and opened up my top middle drawer. On the left-hand side was a pair of blue handled scissors, a new pair, sharp and ready. I looked up at her from behind my desk and noticed that her fingers had stopped moving. "Don't stop," I looked her in the eye, "do not stop until I tell you to stop." I raised my voice a few decibels. "What makes you think you can stop? Did I give you permission to stop?"

I came out from behind my desk quickly with a surprising amount of anger in my own voice. “Did I tell you to stop rubbing a sweet little clit of yours? Did I tell you that your job is no longer on the line?"

I grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around, forcing her to see the erotic images scrolling by on her computer. Spread legs, bare breasts, cheeks held open, nipples pinched, invaded pussies filled the screen.

"Haven't I just helped you remove the very pictures that would get you fired? Did I not just save your job?"

I stood behind and wrapped my arms around her and pressed her hands back under her panties and into her waiting lips. "Touch it." I hissed in her ear, "touch that sweet little pussy of yours, do it, I'm the man, I make the rules, and you want to do it as my slut."

Standing so close behind her there was nowhere for my cock to go but between the cheeks of her tight well formed ass. I realized that the scissors were still in my hand and I began to drag the blades across risk the skin of her stomach, up over her breasts, and around her neck. My cock was throbbing with excitement as I felt her hands start to rub and touch her smooth swollen wet pussy lips that were hidden only by a thin piece of silk. I opened and closed the scissors as they dragged across her bare skin and finally I brought them down to her hips. I opened the scissors why slipped one underneath the thin string that went over her hip, and snipped. The front panel of her panties fell open and I could see her hand rubbing furiously.

She gasped at the feeling of exposure and I told her not to stop. I stepped back away from her, breaking the contact between my skin and hers and she pressed her hips backwards, seeking for the touch, the feel of the hardness that was just there. I grabbed the remaining fabric and snipped again, and pulled her panties down and off her body.

I dropped the scissors to the floor and put my hand on the back of her neck, grabbing a handful of her long luxurious hair and pulling her head back. "Do you like that? Do you like being exposed, naked? Hmmm, do you?” I pulled her hair back further exposing her neck and forcing her to stand tall. I leaned in close, pressing my cock against her buttocks and began to thrust gently up and down. Her skin was silky smooth and it took all of my self-control not to cum at the touch. With my left hand controlling her head, I pressed myself hard against her and let my right arm wander across her belly up to her full breasts, covered by her thin silk bra. I pinched roughly at her nipples through the fabric and pulled and tweaked them with eagerness that surprised her.

Her breathing was rough and ragged and her orgasm was about to crash upon her. "Are you enjoying this my little porn hound? Do you like it rough while your dirty little pictures scroll across the screen?"

She moved her legs apart and crouched down, opening her pussy even more as her fingers moved in and out, taking her deeply, pressing against her clit, and flicking back and forth over her lips.

"Beg me for it bitch." I jerked her head back harder, and reached between her breasts, releasing the small clasp that held it together. Her breasts spilled out into my hands as I released her hair and began to caress and abuse her fullness. Her nipples were hard and firm under my punishing touch. My hands felt their weight and as her orgasm grew ever more insistent she used her free hand to support herself as she bent over, resting her weight on my conference room table.

"Beg me for it."

As her body moved forward, the muscled cheeks of her ass spread and I could feel her fingers thrashing at her tender opening.

"Tell me what you want, or I put the pictures back and call HR right now."

She could barely breathe, let alone speak, and her words came out in ragged gasps and desperate groans, "Fuck me. Fuck me."

I left hand continued to squeeze and grope her left breast as I leaned over her body. I put my right hand on top of hers and pressed her fingers harder and harder against her. I pressed my weight against hers and she collapsed against the conference room table. I bent her over further and kicked her legs apart forcefully, until her head was resting on my conference room table. Completely bent over her body was mine for the taking.

"I want to hear it. You have to ask for it. You have to tell me that I am the man, I am in charge and that you want it."

“Oh fuck, Tom," Tears, hunger, passion, and anger filled her voice as she bent over my conference room table naked and exposed, consumed with lust and need, and desire. Her fingers swirled and explored the wet creases her sex, and she felt her fingertips slide effortlessly over her sloppy cunt.

"Fuck me. Put it in. Oh shit! Fuck! I'm going to cum." Her body began to twitch and buckle, strength left her knees, and she began to fall to the floor, until I grabbed her by the hips and lifted her back to her feet. She locked her knees to support herself and I grabbed her roughly by the hips and plunged my cock into her twitching, waiting pussy.

Her orgasm gripped me immediately and I felt the muscles of her pussy twitch, grip, and spasm. I tried to thrust against her but I was held in too tight. As wet as she was she held my cock deep inside her I began to press against her with my full body weight.

Her climax continued to ravage its way through her body. Impaled as she was on my cock, pinned down by my hands on her hips, the core of her body could not move, and her arms and legs began to twitch uncontrollably. As if overcome by a seizure, her powerful orgasm took control. As her body began to calm down ever so slightly I began my thrusting in earnest. I pounded deep inside her body, feeling every inch of my cock as I pulled out and pressed back in, out and back in. I could feel the smooth walls of her pussy gripping and twitching as the aftershocks of her orgasm continued to roll.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” she began to moan, "don't stop, please don’t stop." I obliged her and continued pounding. With each thrust I pressed my body weight against her hips, with each thrust I pressed her body to the hard cold surface of my table.

"Who's the man? Who's the boss?" I was almost yelling and I was glad, for once, to be so far away from the others on my floor.

With one last flurry I pumped my cock deep.  This triggered another orgasm for her and she let out a shriek that turned into a moan. I could feel her body twitch, convulse, and finally relax as my thrusting slowed down, and as my body finished filling her..

The room was silent except for the sound of two bodies panting in recovery. Still buried deep inside her, my body slowly began to soften, and I covered her neck, shoulders, and back with long warm kisses. I let my body cover hers, my chest on her back, her chest my conference room table, I stroked her gently as I ran my fingers through her hair, and continued to gently thrust my body in and out until, fully relaxed, I let myself fall out of her.

I stood up, still between her legs, my body wet with her juices, her body dripping with mine, I looked down at her and was stunned, as I always was, with her uncommon beauty. I stepped away from her and back around to my credenza. Opening the bottom left drawer I withdrew a container of baby wipes that I kept in my desk to wash my hands. With all the gentleness I could muster, I pulled out a towelette and began to clean her. I wiped her inner thighs, her lower back, the strong curves of her buttocks, and finally, with a fresh cloth, I cleaned her swollen and tender lips.

Now clean, she stood and turned toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply. I wrapped my arms around her in response and we held each other tightly; our bodies still flushed, our hearts still pounding, our breathing still ragged. We stood quietly for several minutes as our bodies came back to earth. My hands came again to her hair and I began to smooth it out, gently running my fingers through her hair as a comb, trying to bring some semblance of composure back to the moment.

She wrapped her arms around my broad shoulders and brought her lips to my ear, "You will always be the man." She whispered.

She knelt down before me and held my pants so that I could step back into them. As she pulled them up over my hips she gave my softening cock a gentle kiss which made me twitch and smile. "Maybe next time." She said with a giggle.

Now dressed I returned the favor and knelt before her, gathering her skirt and holding it up so that she could step through with her stiletto heels and bare legs. I pulled her skirt up over her hips, hooked the eyelets, and returned their zippers to their original and more modest length. I took a half a step back to allow her to reattach her bra, gently enclosing her beautiful chest once again. I picked her blouse off the floor and handed it to her and she buttoned it quickly while she looked into my eyes. She tucked the blouse in her skirt and walked toward my door. With one hand on the knob she turned to me and said, “Thank you for your feedback on my presentation. I appreciate the help."

I smiled at her again and reached over to my computer and unplugged the USB drive that held her collection of pictures. "I will have my team rebuild your personal drive so that there is nothing left but empty space." I held up the little USB drive that had so many powerfully erotic pictures instead, "But I think I will hold on to this for a while," I smirked just a little bit, "it may come in handy for next time."