Sunday, August 01, 2004

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Saturday, July 31, 2004

Dragonball Free Pic Porn Z Sex story

Hey, Professor!

by bluepervina - 2003 bluepervinaATearthling

( FM, MM, FF, bi, ws, voy )


Adults Only! Do not read if you are under 18 years of age or
if you are offended by sexually explicit stories and situations.


I am a college professor in my early thirties. I'm bisexual. I'm more
than a little bent, too, I guess. Anyway, this is how the story goes....

Shyla burst into the classroom crying. Right behind her came Amber,
Kaylee, and Chase. The two girls went to their friend and comforted her as
best they could; Shyla sat hunched over in the front corner seat of the
small auditorium-styled room, her shoulders heaved with her sobs, her face
was buried in her hands. The only intelligible sounds she made were
"fucker" and "asshole". The rest was just general moaning.

Chase remained in the doorway to the room for a while, then he finally
sat in a back row seat, his face set in a small half-frown of impatience.
It was clear that he had caused this particular problem, but it was also
clear that he wasn't necessarily too sorry about it.

I stood just behind the half-open door in the wing of the low stage at
the front of the class. Only a moment before, I'd stepped behind the
partition holding the blackboards; I'd been in search of erasers. That
dumb-fuck Dr. Hulbert left all his equations up there again, so once more
I'd be wiping off chalk for ten minutes before I could get up any notes.
Imagine my surprise when four of my students stormed in like that, nearly
an hour before class started. My immediate impulse, of course, was to
emerge from behind the stage and shoo them away. But I hesitated. No one
can resist slowing down to look at a wreck, after all. And apparently this
was a pretty big bang-up.

A big factor in my voyeurism also had to do with the fact that the three
girls were gorgeous--typical 19 year-old college beauties, destined for
business school and then law school somewhere. I'd been keeping a casual
eye on them all semester when they'd come to class, and more than once I'd
fervently cursed the fact that I was no longer 19 again myself, so I could
even pretend to have a chance with delicious girls like that. They wore
flip-flops, hip-huggers, spaghetti-strapped shirts, a little eye liner, a
little lip gloss, no bras, no panty lines, no blemishes anywhere. Even
Kaylee, whose dark hair was bushily bunched up in dreadlocks, possessed the
innate grace, clear skin, and refined features to make her a true beauty,
really easy to stay hidden and watch.

Chase was remarkable in his own way. He was a smart, arrogant rich-boy
with bleached blonde hair and a broken shell necklace, Hawaiian print
shirts and ripped shorts, always the poseur surfer, always proud of it.
Everyone knew a rich kid from Tampa wouldn't know dick about surfing; but
that was never what was most important to this generation. In my day, the
poseur got his ass kicked. These days, he is the ass-kicker. It's all
about the image. Chase hung his leg over the seat in front of him. His
own flip-flop was hanging tenuously to his toes. He rolled his head back
and stared at the ceiling for a long time. I noticed his jaw was
incredibly strong, his neck thicker than I'd ever really expected it to be.


Despite the sobs and the halting, whispering consolations from Amber, I
managed to piece together the situation. Apparently, Shyla had just been
told by Chase that they were "through". Chase confessed another lover,
gave Shyla her apartment key back, etc. Shyla was mortified, mostly,
because she'd just taken him the weekend before to meet her parents--they'd
hated him, which she thought made him the perfect guy for her. Now she'd
have to start over.

Eventually, Shyla just sat there hunched over and sighing, staring down
at the floor between her feet, her forehead resting on her knees. Amber
sat next to her, rubbing her back. Kaylee came up to sit with Chase, but
they didn't talk. They did, however, hold hands. Her knee was pressed up
against his knee as they slouched in their seats and waited.

"Oh, God, look! You did it again!" whispered Amber. She pointed at the
seat, which was dripping something slowly onto the floor. Shyla sat up and
looked down at the small pie slice of seat that was visible beyond the
curve of her crotch. She wiped her eyes and chuckled softly.

"Didn't even know I did it... again," she whispered back. Then,
disgusted, "That just makes this so much more fun."

Amber continued to rub her friend's back, and for the first time she
glanced over her shoulder in a nervous twitch of the neck at the casually
bored figures in the back. "It's OK, Shy. It's OK. It doesn't freak me
out. You know. It's not like we haven't been friends forever and gotten
through this kind of shit before."

Shyla laughed quietly, "Yeah, you're right. Fuck this. Fuck him and
his stupid bad taste--whoever she fucking is. Fuck me and my fucking weak
bladder. I don't give a shit about any of it anymore." She abruptly stood
and began walking back up the aisle. Her tight jeans were soaked in the
back, from ass to ankles, but she still stalked angrily right past her
newly-minted ex and out into the common area just beyond the building's
concrete front steps. Amber jumped up to follow her, and Chase and Kaylee
then went out right behind. However, just before I could get back onto the
stage and finish erasing the board, Amber came back in. Her backpack was
still under the front row seat.

Picking up her pack, she paused, reaching out. With two fingers, she
stirred the shallow pool of urine that had collected in the curve of
Shyla's seat. Then she put the fingers in her mouth. She stirred again.
Tasted again. She did that for a minute, her eyes closing as she
concentrated on the flavor. Finally, she stopped playing in the piss and
looked all around; in an instant, like a flushed deer, she sprang into a
run, racing back up the aisle and out the door into the searing Florida
sun.

Needless to say, I went up to the door and taped a "Class Cancelled"
sign on it. Then I called the East Campus custodial office and told them
they had a little cleanup to do in the Neils-Lofton Hall auditorium that
afternoon. Really, it was just a chance to get myself somewhere a little
more private, where I could work off the energy that was suddenly juicing
me up so good. I had to work out, or fuck, or jack off. I didn't know
which I'd get to do first, but I needed something and I needed it fast.

I left the back of the auditorium by the emergency exit and trundled
down the fire escape with my briefcase. This was one of the only buildings
on the Floridian campus that had a nicely finished basement, complete with
classrooms and offices; and in this particular basement level was a
notorious bathroom.

And, even though it was early--only 3:30 in the PM--I thought I'd give
it a shot.

The dimly-lit men's room was empty when I entered. One strip of
florescent light glowed weakly up in the center of the eight-foot ceiling.
There were four stalls and six urinals. I entered the farthest stall,
which is the custom for these sorts of things. It was quite dark once the
door closed. Setting my briefcase down between the toilet and the wall, I
pulled my shoes and pants off and set them carefully on top of the case.
Then, for some time, I just sat pensively on the edge of the seat. My cock
was half-hard, and a nice slippery ooze was all over the head, all over my
thigh where it flopped. I scooped some up and sucked it off my fingers.

There were two holes in the stall partition. One was at almost exactly
my cock's height when I stood. I only had to bend my knees a little bit to
get it at just the right angle. The second hole was six inches lower,
obviously made for men under six feet. The holes were both smoothed due to
much use and, I always thought, sandpaper. There had to be sandpaper for
them at some point early on, right? The outlines of the holes were
irregular, a reflection of how they were made, from an inexorable scraping
and stabbing at the wood with pocket knives, ballpoint pens, and cafeteria
silverware, all driven relentlessly on by the idea that comes to every
man's mind when he sits in the last stall of a cozy, dark men's room.

The door opened. I made sure I coughed several times to indicate that I
was in the stall. I quickly unbuttoned my shirt and hung it on the door
hook--just in case--and stood to wait for what hopefully would soon be a
tremendous blow job or ass-fucking. Then a girl giggled.

I froze. I thought about getting fired. I thought about fucking the
girl. I was utterly hard.

"Oh, God, somebody's in here!" the girl whispered. Clear to my ears was
the sounds of a struggle, the grasping and pulling of clothes, groans,
kissing, a bump against the tiled wall near the men's room door.

"Shit, girl, don't bitch like that! Right?" More kissing, less
struggle. "Let's just get in there and fuck." They moved into the stall
next to mine. In the dimness I could see their feet. Flip-flops. Toe
rings on the girl. Peach polish. He had a dolphin tattooed to his right
ankle. She had an anklet made of dyed hemp.

I was sure I knew those feet, both pairs, just like I was sure I knew
those voices. It was Chase and Kaylee.

"Dude," Chase said, his voice alarmingly close. I jumped back from the
partition and stared at the top hole. I could see his mouth only dimly as
he spoke. I knew from experience that, if he tried to see me, he'd barely
be able to make out any features. The last stall was just too dark, too
perfect. I fought the urge to offer him my cock, merely gripping it
tightly instead, listening to him.

"Me and my bitch are ready to fuck, and I don't mind you listenin' or
watchin', yo? But you take one poke through those holes and I'll rip it
off. Open that door and I'll make you regret it. Got that, yo?" God, how
absurd, the way he talked! He got his whole act from bad DJ's and MTV
bullshit. He'd get killed if I was actually the kind of person he was
trying to imitate. But what the hell, he was an asshole, I didn't care. I
just gave him a gruff "Yeah", and waited for him to start up his show.

She giggled more, then I saw her pants fall to the floor, her stepping
out of them, her panties next (a sweet purple thong), her flip-flops kicked
away from her long, sexy feet. Muffled slurpy kisses came across to me.
There was the easily-identifiable sound of hands rubbing on clothes, body
moving against body. His pants and his boxers were next, and then he was
going up on his toes. At that point, I had to bend down and look.

She was sitting on the toilet, sucking him off. I mostly saw his hip
and ass, but he would occasionally sway as he stood, so I'd get a nice view
of her mouth wide around his fat cock. He looked to be thick and
medium-length. Kaylee eagerly gobbled on it like it was her favorite
after-school snack, and soon he was moaning, his hands in her hair. She
was fondling his balls, then licking them, sucking one egg into her mouth
at a time, gently rolling them around.

She got low and licked the base of his balls. Lower, and she licked his
perineum. He flung his foot up on the toilet paper rack, and suddenly I
had the best seat in the house. His anus was right there, and he was
pulling his cheeks apart for her. Not even glancing in my direction,
Kaylee got down under his ass, on her own ass on the cruddy bathroom floor,
and she shoved her face into his crack.

I couldn't see anything but her cheek and his, of course, because
anybody who truly rims a man's asshole usually has to do it while
suffocating. However, the loud slurps and sucking noises were plain as
day, and her head bobbed in and out of his crack with a ferocious zeal.
Chase was stroking himself while she worked his rim, and I could see under
the partition that she was busy in her own crotch, too.

"That's it, bitch, oh yeah!" He grunted. "Fuck! I love how you can eat
ass, baby."

She came up soon after that. Her face was a sloppy, slobbery mess. Her
brunette-white-girl's dreadlocks were going ninety different directions.
The front of her shirt was soaked in drool. They kissed hard, deep, as he
pinched her nipples and she stroked his dick.

Then the door opened. It was just before class was supposed to start,
and naturally students were all around the building. However, everyone in
the whole town knew that you didn't use this particular bathroom unless you
wanted to fuck or get arrested trying to fuck. I wondered if I was about
to get a show of my own.

Chase grunted, "Don't stop, baby. Don't you fuckin' dare stop." I
glanced in the hole to see her once again sucking his cock, his hands
twisting hard in her mangled mess of hair. But I was too distracted.

Bending, I looked out at the men's room floor. A pair of tennis shoes
were walking my way. They stopped at my door, then I heard a faint
tapping.

"Can we fuck?" came the whisper. I opened the door and let him in.

A freshman--so obviously a freshman, his zits had zits!--stood looking
me right in the eyes. God, the idiot! Didn't he know how it worked. I
quickly reached up and flicked him playfully on the nose.

"No eye contact," I whispered.

"Sorry," he whispered back, then bent to look in the hole. "Is that a,
um, a girl in there?"

"Yeah, but listen, asshole," grunted Chase from across the partition.
"You better shut yer ass up and be down with this shit here or I'll come
over there and kick yer dick down that drain."

"Good lord, give it a rest," I blurted. The professor in me just
couldn't contain it. I immediately stiffened in terror, afraid my voice
would be recognized. Chase and Kaylee both were so far gone in their own
passion, however, that all my words did was make him angrier
and--apparently--hornier.

"I'm warning you fairies, goddammit!" he growled. I noticed one of
Kaylee's feet was now turned toward the toilet. The other was out of
sight. I looked through the hole. Her foot was up on the steel pipe that
came out of the top of the commode. Chase was in the process of shoving
his meat all the way into her cunt. Mostly, of course, I saw just his ass.
But as he drew back, I got really great looks at the clinging mouth of her
pussy, the white cream smearing his dick as it moved, a dribble of it
running down her thigh, her hand sneaking in to rub her clit.

Then the boy touched my cock. From then on I was all into the boy.

His mouth wrapped around me as he knelt there, his hands grasping my
root, one finger already inching its way into my crack. I shifted to face
him better and spread my feet out. His finger found my anus and rubbed.
Taking his mouth off me momentarily, he slobbered and sucked on his
fingers, then put his hand back on my crack. A good portion of his index
finger slid up into my hole, and I moaned. In short order, his next finger
was in me, too, and I was feeling nicely stretched.

His mouth on me was so warm, so tight. He sucked at exactly the right
moment, then just let his lips and tongue pressure me at the exact right
time. His blowjob experience was clearly far more advanced than his
youthful years could show. I'd never had better head than that in my life.
I glanced down and saw the proof of his skill in the ropes of drool that
were dripping down from my dick and his chin and throat, getting all over
the floor and his shirt. It made me moan again, just to see the proof of
his nasty work like that. Fingers thrust in even deeper, then began to
wiggle. Diabolically twisting in my rectum, my colon twitching, my whole
ass alive.

Beside us, Kaylee's moans were loud and clear, possibly audible in the
hallway outside. None of us cared. My own noises were gaining volume as
well, and the boy's slurping noises clattered sharply against the tile
acoustics, as if depravity could amplify sound. Chase grunted
rhythmically, cursing under his breath. I was sure they would last much
longer.

The boy suddenly attempted a third finger, but I stopped him. I was
ready.

"Look," I whispered, pulling him up and unbuttoning his shorts. "Why
don't you just fuck me? I'd like it now, if you don't mind."

His cock sprang out, long and curved. It was white like ivory, so pale
compared to his other skin. I almost dropped to suck it, but those fingers
in my asshole had felt too good. I wanted that rod up my ass.

Turning around, I imitated Kaylee. My foot went up on the pipe that
protruded from the top of the toilet back. My hands went to my ass and
spread my crack. Then his tongue was on my anus, his flicking wet hard
tongue was on my wrinkled asshole licking me over and over. He made his
tongue harder and fatter and thrust it into me as far as it would go. I
pushed back against his face and relaxed my rectum, letting the muscle
loosen, letting him in. It was nearly as good as the blowjob! My legs
began to quake, and I seriously feared that I would fall and hurt us both.

Sensing that, I suppose, the boy abruptly stood up and poked the head of
his cock at my starfish. It slowly pushed in, splitting me. I was opened
up utterly, my ass was filled, my ass was so goddamn full of his meat!
When got in all the way and I could feel his prickly trimmed pubic hairs
against my cheeks, he reached around and grabbed both my nipples. I was
gone.

My eyes were closed, my mind was off, my ears were on vacation. All I
could do was feel. The twisting on my nipples made me shake spasmodically,
and I continued to shove my ass back against his wonderful long cock. He
thrust at a good steady pace, the kind that really builds up a fantastic
pressure in the prostate. It's exactly like priming a pump. My
cum-trigger swelled right up and got ready to burst.

My hands were on the wall to brace myself, my half-hard dick bounced
back and forth every which-way as his fucking sped up. I gritted my teeth
and managed to look down at my cock just at the moment he made me cum.
It's an amazing sensation that way, with a penis rammed up my ass. There
is no control. The cum pumps out with a force you can't get otherwise, and
it's three times more cum to see and feel as it spurts forth from your
helpless, barely erect dick.

And he came too. His cock swelled, then throbbed, as he drove it in as
far as physics allowed. The twitching, jerking rhythm of a cumming cock is
unmistakable, and he held it deep inside me, humping fiercely, as his cream
blasted up my ass. My nipples were two searing hot wounds, killing me
where he pinched them, but sending great currents of pleasure down to my
dick at the same time. My cum exploded just as his did, and we both let
out a loud series of "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" before we stopped.

Almost immediately, his hands fell away from my chest to rest on my
hips. His cock remained hard, deep inside me, and he was still moving it a
little. I let him fuck me gently that way for a few more minutes while I
hung my head and caught my breath. The hands on my hips steadily got a
tighter grip, finally digging in pretty good, and the boy got back to some
long steady strokes. My colon began to spasm violently as the cum sloshed
further and further up inside.

I finally noticed that I couldn't hear anything next to us anymore, and
I glanced over my shoulder at the partition. No eye was at the hole. No
dick was poking through. From my angle, I couldn't see any feet under the
partition, either. It looked like my students were gone. An amazing
moment ended, I supposed, to have been able to watch such a beautiful young
couple go at it like that; but I was glad to have the chance, however short
the time. And at least I still had a cock in my ass.

The boy began to grunt again, and I could feel from inside that his cock
was about to pop once more. I knew what I wanted. I leaned away, my hands
coming down to break his grip. His cock tried to follow me as I pulled off
him, but I was quick. My ass made a rude gurgling noise as it lost its
friend, and immediately I felt hot fluids leaking out my anus, running down
the backs of my thighs. I knelt before the boy as he furiously reached
down to pump himself. Before he could grab his own dick, however, I had it
in my mouth.

Tasting myself on his dick was unreal. The idea that it was in such a
dirty part of me, and now that part was in my mouth. Oh God! I had my own
cock in my hand as I sucked him, and I was almost there. The drips of his
cum tickled as they fell from my ass and thighs, made me squirm my butt in
the cool restroom air. I felt a little enemized, like I'd need to sit on
that toilet real soon; but for the moment I didn't really care if I made it
in time or not. I was going to take this boy's cum in my mouth, his taste
and mine together, and I wasn't going to stop until that happened.

He put his hands on my head and kept me deep on his dick. My throat was
stretched and getting sore, but my nostrils were clear and my breathing was
fine, so I knew I could get him off properly. At the moment when his
"Ugh!" got just right, I backed him out of my throat so that the head was
just in my mouth; my hand pumped him hard, and he came in great big squirts
that I tried to hold inside my cheeks and on my tongue.

When he finished thrusting and I let go, I leaned back on my haunches
and swished his cum around slowly in my mouth. It was more bitter than I
preferred, but it was hot and fresh, so I was happy. I noticed the boy was
leaned back against the partition, watching me. Gesturing, I made him lean
down until our mouths locked. His tongue came in and slurped up his cum,
and I could feel his face move a little as he swallowed again and again. I
let him have a lot of it. It was a nice way to let him know I like the
things he did.

His hands again went to my nipples as we continued to kiss, but I pushed
them away. I wasn't 18 or 19 anymore. I wasn't even 30 anymore. I had to
rest now! He broke off the kiss and looked down at my semi-hard cock, a
little disappointed, a little contented. I chuckled and kissed his
forehead and stood up.

We exchanged phone numbers but not names, of course, and he left the
stall first.

I stayed behind to shit.

Sitting there letting my colon rumble out all the air and cum and caca
that it wanted, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

A thong. Purple.

It was sticking through the lower hole, just enough to cling without
falling. I pulled it through and immediately brought it up to my nose. So
nice!

Then I examined the panties, turning them over in my hands. The back,
of course, was just an eighth-inch strip of fabric, but the front had a
simple cotton weave with a little pink bow. And black permanent marker! I
nearly jumped off the seat. There was writing on the front of Kaylee's
panties.

Just five words, and they could barely fit on the skimpy piece of
underwear: Hey professor--let's party later.

I now had a new reason to shit. A brick, that is.

My career flashed before my eyes, but then, so did Chase's ass, and
Kaylee's, and her cream on his dick.... I was getting hard again as I sat
there, and I couldn't help but stroke a little as I sniffed the panties
again and again and remembered all that I'd seen and heard. I didn't know
those students very intimately. They were just two out of over fifty who
were taking my math class. Nevertheless, they obviously knew me well
enough to want to "party" now. And the fact that they'd think I was young
enough, or stud enough, to hang with them sexually--well, it boosted my
ego, to say the least.

I thought I might take them up on it!

In the meantime, though, I decided that some reconnaissance might be in
order. It was Thursday, a big drinking night among the college crowd (but
aren't they all). I figured I could probably do a little look-see while
they were out clubbing, and no one would be any wiser. It would probably
serve me well to see what I might be getting myself into, after all.

I dressed and headed back to my office, just a few hundred yards across
the commons in another building. It was nearly sunset by then, and that
was good. My pants had fallen off my briefcase while I'd fucked, and there
were now huge cum stains on them. I looked like I'd been in a food fight
from the waist down.

In my office at the computer, it took me only moments to get Chase's and
Kaylee's addresses. I printed them out and went home. I needed to rest
and rejuvenate a little before I went back out.

A few hours later, after a nap, a light dinner, and some bourbon (not to
mention some ointment), I set out.

To my surprise, Chase lived in a rather mediocre apartment complex in an
average section of the college-dominated town. Perhaps he was even more
style-over-substance than I'd first suspected. It was totally dark and
just after 10 PM when I parked around the corner from his building and
stood in the shadows to stare up at his second floor windows. They were
all dark. His apartment shared the second floor with one other unit in
that building, and they had an exterior staircase.

I went quickly up the stairs and to his front door. The bolt was
thrown, so I moved to the one window that opened onto the landing. It was
latched. However, I was an easy thing to slide a sturdy standard
screwdriver into the narrow space between the top and bottom halves of the
window. Just a little pressure, and the latch loosened, and then I could
pop the window right open.

Once inside his apartment, I got out my flashlight and looked for any
clues to whether or not this boy would be the type to set me up just to
bring me down. It was clear that he lived with another guy. The place was
completely wrecked. Even in the darkness, it was evident that clutter was
all over. The smell of stale pizza, spilled beer, and pot lingered in the
air.

The room in the back of the apartment, the larger of the two bedrooms,
belonged to Chase. Inside the top drawer of his dresser were three
buttplugs of increasing size, a large bottle of lube, half-full. Two
dildoes--one narrow and one quite thick and very black--were attached to
strap-on harnesses. There was a baggie full of rolled joints right next to
a baggie containing possibly poppers or something else. And a shoebox.

Inside the shoebox were pictures. Some were Polaroids of girls in lurid
poses. Some were grainy printouts of cheap digital pictures taken in bad
light. Some were studio pictures that looked like they were done for a
school yearbook. Some were candid shots at what appeared to be just plain
old family-style parties, like a small group of girls sitting together,
smiling, in front of somebody's Christmas tree. But the naked pictures
dominated the set. And it was not all female. A good portion were boys of
Chase's own age, most of them displaying cock or pulling apart ass. It
looked for all the world like a pictorial catalog of all the people Chase
had either fucked or wanted to fuck. My heart began to quicken, and so did
my dick.

Maybe he was for real after all. Maybe he really was a slutty guy like
me.

I decided to put his window back together and go out his door like a
normal person. I'd let him wonder how the bolt got unlocked. And I hoped
he'd not bother to count up his joints anytime soon!

At Kaylee's address I found a large house. Nice big yard. No dog. The
neighbors' homes were all dark, as now it was past 11. This was not a
student neighborhood, and it surprised me that she'd live out here. Maybe
she was with her family? How odd that would be! It had never crossed my
mind.

The lights in Kaylee's home were off as well, but now I was nervous
about her dad and her mom and the whole weird "what the hell do I think I'm
doing" kind of paranoia. The strangeness of my little investigation
finally dawned on me. I mean, really, if I wanted to fuck them, why not
just fuck them and not worry about all the "what-ifs"?

But something drove me on. It felt like I'd entered into a wild new
chapter of my life, and this creeping around happened to be a completely
normal part of that.

It was plain to me that there'd be an alarm system on the house, so I
decided to simply circle it, try to look in some windows, then I'd head
home. It was a home that had been built in the last five years, from the
looks of the architecture and landscaping, and it was more obvious than
ever, up close, that whoever owned the house had a whole lot of wealth.

In the back yard there was a large freestanding garage. On top of it,
as a second floor, was an apartment. An open staircase on the side of the
garage led up to a landing in front of the door, but there was a narrow
porch or balcony with a rail that ran all the way around the entire
apartment. I was sure it would be rigged with an alarm, too, but still I
could climb up there and look into any window I wanted!

Once I got on the little wraparound porch, I saw that the lights were
not completely off, as I had first suspected. There was in fact one dim
lamp shining in the bedroom. I walked around to that window and pressed my
face against the screen. The glass was pulled up, as it was a decent
Florida night, and I began wondering seriously whether or not I should risk
breaking in here, too.

Then I heard a moan.

"Oh, wow, Amber. God. Fucking do it to me again!" It was Shyla's
voice, and it was right under me! I looked down from where I so clumsily
leaned against the screen to see a bed right under the window, and the top
of Shyla's head less than a foot away from the window sill. With a
panicked stifling of breath, I inched back until I felt safe; but I kept on
looking and listening. It was clear that Amber and Shyla lived in Kaylee's
guest house, and it was even more clear that the two of them were lovers.

"Amber, oh Amber, I can't believe I even wanted anyone besides you. Oh
God, don't stop. Oh shit, baby...." Shyla was incoherent for several more
minutes, moaning, stroking and pinching her own breasts and Amber kept her
mouth glued to Shyla's cunt. I could just barely see Amber's soft hair
through the window, hovering above her roommate's wet muffin.

Slowly, Amber finally rose up and came to kiss Shyla. It was deep,
loving, truly a passionate kiss between two hearts. Shyla reached up to
cup Amber's face in her hands as their mouths remained locked wide open,
feeding, for a long time. Amber eventually pulled back and gazed, smiling,
down at her girlfriend. She slowly twisted a lock of Shyla's hair between
her fingers.

"So... do you think you're ready?" Amber asked. Both girls giggled.

"After all that Smirnoff? I'd better be, bi-atch!" Shyla blurted, and
they laughed again. "Get down there and drink it!"

Amber grinned and obediently went back down to Shyla's pussy, spreading
it wide with her fingers and holding her mouth open about two inches away.
Shyla, for her part, planted her feet flat on the bed, bent her knees and
concentrated. Her eyes closed, and she tried to relax. My cock gave a
mighty twitch, and I suppressed an urge to just jump right in there with
them.

Finally, Shyla let out a long, slow breath, and as it finished she
whispered, "Ohhhh, here it issssssss...."

In the dim light of the bedroom lamp, I could see a small trickle, then
a spurt, then a stream of piss. It flowed freely from Shyla's pussy, not
clinging to her labia but spraying straight out into Amber's thirsty mouth.
Fully relaxed and fully releasing, Shyla truly blasted Amber with her piss.
It hissed out of her cunt and covered every inch of Amber's face, throat,
shoulders, hands, and hair with hot urine.

And Amber moaned and drank and smiled the whole time.

"That's it, bitch, drink my fucking piss!" Shyla shouted, seeming not to
care that the window was open and that they did have neighbors with ears.
Her cry startled me deeply, and I stepped back and looked around to see if
any lights would come on.

And then I saw them.

Chase and Kaylee were standing less than ten feet away from me on the
balcony, silently watching me break the law, little evil smiles on their
faces.

I nearly fell over the rail.

"So... professor....." Kaylee said. Beside me, through the window,
Shyla cried out in an orgasm. I glanced to see Amber mouth once again
clamped down on her cunt and a finger ramming her ass. Then I realized
Chase was now standing immediately in front of me, almost right up against
me, and he was pretty muscular for a poseur.

"Um, professor," Kaylee started again, then chuckled, "I guess you
really did want to party after all."

And all I could do was manage a weak smile. I was trying to listen to
Shyla and Amber as they both realized we were right there on the other side
of the window. I was trying to calculate how a lawyer could possibly save
my perverted ass. I was trying to look into Chase's beautiful blue eyes
without letting him know how incredibly horny all of this was making me,
and how close I was getting to becoming the type of fuck-crazy person I
never knew I could be. I was trying, simply, to just not fall over the
goddamn rail.

Then Chase kissed me, and from then on I was just trying to kiss him
back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2003 by bluepervina. bluepervinaATearthling

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Thursday, July 29, 2004

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Monday, July 26, 2004

Dragonball Free Pic Porn Z Sex story

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of sexual acts. If it
is either illegal or inappropriate for you to be reading this, please
stop now. Or at least before you come to the good parts.

Author: Miles Naismith
( c ) 1998 Mnaismith
NOTE: The rights to this story retained by me have subsequently been
assigned to Jane Urquhart, a.k.a. janey98, and any requests
for licenses to use this material should be directed to her. Miles Naismith,
mnaismith

Distribution Rights: May be distributed freely without modification on
Usenet, Usenet II, not-for-profit web sites, not-for-profit sites,
and news archival services which offer free public access to archived
articles.

Note: Now that Sandman has broken the code of silence, I thought I
might tell of my encounter with Janey Urquhart . . . I expect she will
deny it, since it involves things she says do not interest her. Unlike
Sandman, I make no cute declarations of alternate realities or closed
time loops. In fact, I may be posting to the wrong group, because it is
not a story. More like a news report. After all, it's all true. Every
word. Trust me. Have I ever lied to you?
Miles



JANEY'S BET
Through Miles' Eyes

We were in the Trident for lunch. Jackie was even eating an omelet
with yellow raisins. It was patently absurd, but who was I to argue
with Jackie's renewed interest in adventure following her discovery of
some of the good erotic stories available on the net. I had thought the
juvenile, pedophile and misogynistic content of most of the stories (not
to mention the spam) would have caused her to turn her nose up in
disdain, never to look again. Then she discovered some of the women
authors. She liked Helen's page of seduction stories and Taria's
hypnotic storytelling, but, like me, she was smitten by Janey Urquhart.
Hence the Trident.

I had business in Boston, and when Jackie suggested leaving the
kids with the grandparents so that we could have some time to ourselves,
it sounded like Heaven (not my usual reaction to Boston.) Little did I
know that we would be haunting the locations in Janey's stories, but the
effect on Jackie's libido was quite satisfactory. Although our sex life
was satisfying, she hadn't shown this level of giggly excitement and
playfulness for many years.

Analysis and rationality being the stock in trade of my profession,
I had told her that the rampant paranoia of the times would preclude any
woman who published erotic stories on the web from actually showing up
at the locations depicted in the stories. I told her that Janey was
probably short, dark and big breasted in real life, or, the web being
what it is, even a man. In any event, it was certain we would never see
her. Jackie's intellect acknowledged this, but her emotions (like mine)
wanted to believe, and here we were.

"There she is!"

I jerked my head up from my food and followed Jackie's eyes. Sure
enough, a tall, fit blonde and a busty brunette had just entered.
Coincidence, I thought, or maybe someone wanting to capitalize on Janey
being, how did she say it, flavor du jour by impersonating her. But I
didn't say it. No need to burst the bubble.

"Let's ask them to join us," said my wife, predictably.

"Jackie, whoever that is is here with a friend. Let's give them
their privacy."

We watched for a few minutes until the brunette left. The blonde
ordered, and then headed for the ladies room. Immediately my wife
followed. She returned with a big grin, "It is her, and she is going
to join us.

When the blonde Artemis walked over to our table, Jackie introduced
us, "Janey, this is my husband, Miles. He knows who you are already."

"You wrote me a fan letter, didn't you? Not many guys named
Miles," Janey said smiling. She was probably smiling at the slackjawed
look surprise on my face as I realized it really was Janey. I had
written a short bit of praise after the January story. After an
uncomfortable moment of incompetence, I finally let go of her hand and
squeaked out, "Yes, that's me. Please join us."

She sat gracefully in the proffered chair, while Jackie caught the
waiter's eye. He brought over the omelet with yellow raisins that he
was carrying. The three of us talked for nearly an hour, although I was
bemused enough that I only remember bits and pieces: her two kids, our
two kids, school, shopping in Boston, but none of what I really wanted
to discuss. The end of the conversation was blazed into my memory,
however, when I realized the Janey had accepted Jackie's dinner
invitation for her husband and herself two days hence on Friday.

That night in bed the conversation went: "Do you suppose . . ."
"Probably not, we're older." "Not that much." "OK for you, you are
younger than me and still look like early thirties, but I'm fifteen
years older. Too much." "But men age more gracefully." "I'm not going
to hold my breath. Besides, they are only stories." "But what if . . .
should we?" "Would you be OK with it?" "<sigh>Yes . . . I think so . .
. maybe." Then we had the best sex we'd had in months.

I had work to keep me busy during the day on Thursday and Friday,
and a wild woman on Thursday night after another conversation of half
finished sentences. I think Jackie shopped. Well, I did too. I
returned to the Trident and bribed the waiter to bring me a baggie of
those aphrodisiac raisins for later when we were home.

Finally the waiting was over, and we rode our cab in nervous
silence to the club where we had agreed to meet for dinner. Jackie
had shopped. She wore a new black dress made of some soft clingy
material that came up to her neck in the front, and had absolutely no
back. She certainly was not wearing a bra, and I did not see any panty
lines either. Besides the fact that I
thought she looked sexy as hell, the attitude implied by the outfit was
intoxicating. I had to concentrate on remembering obscure formulae to
be able to walk her into the club.

When the self-described plain Jane was shown to our table, I noted
envy in every male pair of eyes (and jealousy in some of the females) as
they followed her path to our table. The dress was Chinese looking, red
with dragons and things embroidered on it, with a the typical high
buttoned neck and an atypical slit up the side to mid-thigh. Sandman
had said she had good legs, but his words had not prepared me for the
reality. Bob was wearing clothes. I think.

I was a little more graceful with introductions this time, and we
settled in for a leisurely dinner. Bob was easy to talk to, and the
four of us got on well. A dance band began to play half way through the
meal, and soon we were dancing with our wives. After a couple of
dances, we switched. When the next slow dance started, I admit I felt a
little uncomfortable. I was less than two inches shorter, but cultural
conditioning is strong. I had visions of onlookers coming over to ask
for autographs thinking we were that tax lawyer and his blonde wife on
L. A. Law. Janey did not seem perturbed, (more practice in this
situation, I guess,) but did not protest when I suggested we sit and
talk for a while.

Bob and Jackie seemed quite content to remain on the dance floor.
Janey and I finally got to discuss her writing, my desire to write, and
eroticism. It was exhilarating to be able to listen to a woman's point
of view on these subjects freely expressed. So many women, including my
wife, do not seem comfortable revealing what they really think.

All too soon Bob and Jackie returned and good-naturedly ribbed us
about being so deep in conversation when we should be partying. Jackie
said, "I want to dance fast, and these guys are doing a Lester Lanin
imitation. Let's either go to another club or back to condo. I know
Jerry has some good CD's there."

In short order it was decided that Janey and Bob would drive us
back to the condo where we were staying. It belonged to a clate of
mine from college who was out of town until Sunday. Bob and Jackie were
feeling no pain, so Janey ended up designated driver, with me in front
to give directions. The car was noisy (that muffler would not have
passed inspection back home,) but the occasional murmur of conversation
and the odd giggle penetrated to the front seat. I wondered what would
happen when we got there.

We had skipped dessert to dance, so I cobbled together some fruit
and cheese to accompany the late harvest reisling we liberated from
Jerry's wine closet. Jackie put on the music, and soon she and Bob were
dancing on the balcony, magnificently oblivious to the potential
audience around them in the other condos.

As we looked that direction Janey said, "I haven't seen that
'hunting' look in Bob's eyes since we were dating. I don't think he was
the hunter with Beth. Looks like Jackie has given him back the thrill
of the chase."

"We haven't really agreed on what would happen if you two gave it a
chance, so there really is a chase, or at least a seduction there. God,
I envy him."

"Shall we let them have each other?"

"Makes me excited to think about it. But it kind of leaves you
with the short end of the stick. Even a social illiterate like myself
can see that I don't give you the empty feeling you have described."

"Miles, you're nice. I know I will enjoy being with you."

"Ah, but Janey, this is my favorite fantasy. I've wondered about
you since I read the first three paragraphs of your first story.
Physically you exceed my expectations beyond my imagination. I know you
had Sandman rate you at only several in your Trip story, but my eyes
register at least 832 millihelens when I look at you. I . . ."

"Pardon me, millihelens?"

"Oh you know. If Helen had the face that launched a thousand
ships, then one ship would require . . ."

"I see. Thank you, I think."

Suddenly Jackie and Bob were there. I jumped. I hate it when
people sneak up on me. Jackie said, "Miles, Bob and I . . ."

I smiled and said, "I knew earlier. I love you." She flushed and
smiled, and then they were walking down the hall. I stared, hypnotized
and my pants were suddenly very tight.

"That is the most amazing smile," said Janey, bringing my attention
back to reality.

"It is the only reason I had the nerve to ask her out. She gave it
to me the first time we met and I did not want to think I'd never see it
again. But back to us. We need to do at least something, I think. I
expect Jackie would feel guilty if I didn't participate in this somehow,
and you seem to feel the same despite the lack of chemistry for you.
But I don't want my fantasy to be nice. I want it to be special.
Memorable. Since my pheromones aren't right, maybe we can manufacture
some excitement situationally. I've thought about it since Wednesday,
and I finally concluded we could try an erotic story cliche, 'the bet.'
Cut the cards, two out of three."

Janey looked amused. "A cliche, alright. Doesn't bode well for
your debut as a writer if your work is derivative. What would we bet?"

"Something risky. And tell it to Shakespeare. Anyway, when I read
your stories, my sense was that you saw yourself, or rather your
character, as always in control. Even in Janey's February, when Beth
was directing the action, the sense of control was strong. The thought
of giving up control scares me. Jackie is the same way. We've never
tried even light bondage despite our deep trust for each other. On the
other hand, putting it at risk is an infernally, and I use the word
advisedly, seductive fantasy. Are you willing to take the chance?"

She sat silently for a moment, staring at me with a measuring
glance. "You have obviously been thinking about this. You must have
something more detailed in mind."

"Well, in the unlikely event that I ever got the chance, I planned
to negotiate. The only thing I have thought about is my fantasy . . .
but I do not want to scare you off."

"No waffling. Tell me what you want if you win."

"I am not into pain, giving or receiving. I'd rule that out. I do
not think humiliation is sexy either, but I do lean toward at least some
outward sign of having given up control. In my fantasy, I would
blindfold you, bind your hands, and masterfully drag orgasm after orgasm
from your body by every means I could think of for the length of time of
the forfeit. The 'masterfully' part represents my ego's wishful
thinking, but that would be my plan. I expect we would have safe words
and would agree that the loser could quit at any time, being bound to
continue only by honor. What would you want?"

"Oddly enough, I've thought about a situation similar enough to
this to be adapted. I think it was Bronwen who did a story where her
husband gave her three studs for Mother's day, and she used them to
clean her house. If I decide to bet, I would expect you to massage my
feet, my back and my face after washing me gently during my long hot
bath, giving me a manicure and pedicure, and generally doing whatever I
want to pamper me. If there ends up being sex involved, it would
probably not involve your pleasure. In fact, I'd raise your ante to
include one action payable on demand by the winner at anytime in the
future, provided its reasonable and agreed in advance. <laughing> Makes
me think of Rosie O'Donnell in that awful bondage comedy when her reply
to the slave boy's inquiry as to what he could do for her was 'Paint my
house.' You said some outward sign of forfeit -- what would that be."

"Well, juvenile as it sounds, in my fantasy it would be removing
your pubic hair."

She looked thoughtful. "You know the penalty would be the same for
you."

Suddenly I was not so sure the benefits of winning were worth the
risk of losing. The rest of it was easy to take, but no pubic hair? I
did not know how I could do my swimming and golf conveniently without
showering at the club, and the only time work and the kids left for
regular exercise was lunch time. What do you tell your friends when
they see you bald. For her it would be sexy. For me it would be
impossible to explain.

"Why Miles, you look a little pale. Not going to chicken out are
you." The woman positively smirked.

Manhood demanded that I overcome my fears. "You're on. Let's
decide the action to be taken later."

"Whoa there. I haven't said I'd agree, but I do know my action:
you must send me a love sonnet and flowers at my office on my birthday.
From a secret admirer."

"Janey, I'd probably be willing to do that even without the bet.
But I read stories too. Perhaps you remember one called Freebie by
dierdre? Where the heroine gives her husband some coupons good for an
enthusiatic blow job on demand? One coupon?"

Now she looked taken aback. She sat there calculating. Finally
she said, in a low voice, "We have to take the babysitter home in three
hours. Two hours of control. Get the cards."

A jack to her nine. One. A jack to her queen. Oh shit, I could
lose. A queen to her three. My heart beat like a triphammer. She
blushed. My first command:

"Strip for me, please."

Blushing even more furiously, Janey's hand went to the tiny buttons
at the neck and along the shoulder of the dress, and then to a hidden
zipper under her arm. Red silk and dragons puddled at her feet.
Watching her breasts push forward as she worked, I noted that this bra
fastened in the back. She closed her eyes and pushed down her panties,
stepping out of them and her shoes at the same time. I couldn't believe
it as she stood before me, gloriously nude. She had described herself
as slightly overweight, but that was not what I saw. To be sure, no one
would mistake her for Kate Moss, for which I thanked God. Instead she
had the smooth stretched muscles of a swimmer with just the right amount
of flesh to make her look rounded and feminine. Her breasts were just
right for her; D cups would have seemed incongruous on her athletic
frame. In a rare moment of insight, I had pegged her right when we met:
a blonde Artemis.

"Come sit in my lap and give me a kiss."

Still blushing, she did just that. Her blush reached the tops of
her gorgeous white breasts. When she kissed me, she had to bend down.
I didn't care. Her lips were warm and soft, but her back was tense. I
took pity on her.

"Janey, say the word and I will relieve you of your obligation.
You were brave to agree, but I still want it to be exciting, not
dreadful. At this point even vanilla sounds unbearably pleasurable."

"Miles, I'm not sure I like this role, but I made the bet. Anyway,
even if I'm a little scared, I also feel this moth to the flame sort of
attraction. Tell me the safe word."

"The safe word that means cease and desist, to end everything, will
be for you to say your full name. If I do something you don't like, but
not bad enough to quit, say 'red light' and I'll consider whether to
continue. Now let's go to the guest room. The computer's there and
we'll use it to make the coupon."

I stood her in front of the full length mirror and told her to etch
a memory of her curly delta into her brain, for it would look quite
different when she next saw it. I then went to the computer and fiddled
with the keyboard, typing randomly. After an appropriate interval, I
printed to the color printer a coupon with gold filigreed edges and a
serious looking font that I had made up the day before. It said, "I,
the undersigned Janey Urquhart, do hereby promise to perform on demand
for the bearer one enthusiastic session of oral sex to climax. I
reserve the right to postpone performance if, at the time of the demand,
performance would result in a public nuisance or might be witnessed by
minors." I handed it to Janey with a pen. She looked at me with wide
eyes, hesitated, and then signed it. I put it in my pocket.

Janey had not been wearing pantyhose, or any hose, so I opened
Jackie's suitcase and retrieved a pair of her pantyhose. I stood before
Janey silently, until she lifted her wrists. I tied them snug, but not
too tight, and had her sit on the edge of the bed. I saw her glance at
the condoms I had put on the headboard as she sat. Lucky for me, Jerry
was a well prepared bachelor. As I reached back into Jackie's bag for
her sleep mask, I deliberately fumbled while Janey tested her bonds,
letting her realize that there was plenty of slack to let one hand untie
the other. I doubted she realized how hard it is to untie a knot in
hosiery. I looped a belt through the pantyhose and the headboard,
stretching her arms above her head as she lay back on the bed. She was
tense once again as I slipped the sleep mask over her eyes.

"Time to get rid of this," I said, fluffing her soft lower curls.

"Red light," came the quick response.

"Sorry, Janey," said I, "I'll quit if you want, but this was
expressly part of the bet. You need to say your name to stop now."

She looked like she considered doing just that, but didn't say
anything for a long moment.

"Stay very still please. And while I work, you might think about
that coupon. You may have noticed that it is payable to bearer. I
could give it to Jerry . . . or maybe to Beth . . ."

With some scissors from my overnight kit, I trimmed away the cute
little ringlets. I put one curly lock in an envelope with Janey's name
on it. Later I slipped it into her purse. Then I applied some cream my
wife uses on her legs and bikini line. She says it is very gentle, and
the skin stays soft and hairless for about a month. I was careful to
keep it away from her lips, but I took every opportunity to tease and
caress the area around her mons and the insides of her thighs as I
applied it. She tried very hard to be still, thinking, I suppose, that
I was going to shave her, but she quivered at my touch. She seemed
surprised when I wiped the stuff off after a few minutes, washed her
gently with a damp, warm towel, and pronounced her done.

Pushing her thighs apart gently, I stared at the blindingly white
skin and beautifully shaped lips which were revealed by my tonsorial
efforts. I don't think she really believed it was done until I glided
my fingers with no resistance over the smooth skin where the curls used
to be. Her blush reached her nipples this time. She looked good enough
to eat, to coin a phrase.

Remembering her stories, I started licking around the outside of
her breast, slowly spiraling in to the nipple. Moving to her other
breast, I kissed only the nipple in the secret way that Continental
sophisticates make ladies swoon when they kiss women's hands. (I once
shipped with a Belgian lieutenant exchange officer who the Compte de
something back in his home.)

With feathery touches and the lightest of kisses, I started working
up her legs. I pushed them apart gently as I approached the top. I
teased all around her center until she was bucking up, trying to bring
herself to my mouth. Placing one thumb lightly on her anus (I loved the
little flinch), I slid a finger into her and sucked her clitoris into my
mouth. Then I did my best to imitate a vibrator with my tongue.

In a very short while her vaginal muscles spasmed and I heard the
incoherent sounds of orgasm. Now I love to come myself, but causing an
all out orgasm is every bit as much of a trip. These were all out, as
she kept going. Finally the orgasms died out and I could tell she was
so sensitive that she wanted me to take my face away. Instead I tickled
her underarms as I kept licking. She couldn't quite speak through the
bursts of laughter, but she really jerked and struggled with her bonds.
I'd have a bruise the next day where one heel caught me. Then she came
again, for what seemed to be a literal minute. I took my hands and face
away and breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been too deflating if
she hadn't responded. I turned her over on her stomach. Time for her
reward.

I poured some massage oil in the hollow of her back. With long
deep strokes I began to massage her the way Jackie liked it, mentally
cursing Jerry for choosing this awful strawberry fragrance. After all,
how was a manly dominant supposed to keep his submissive in the proper
frame of mind when she smelled like dessert. She stayed tense for a
while, then finally relaxed into the mattress. She actually moaned a
small moan of pleasure when I started on her feet. I don't know what
she had done all day, but she seemed to enjoy the foot massage as much
as her orgasm. After a few minutes, I began to work my way back up her
legs, spreading them again as I did the inside thighs. Loading up with
oil, I worked her buttocks, and then slid down the enticing valley. I
poured a little of the oil between her cheeks, and caught it at her bare
mons, sliding it back the length of that valley to her cute little
pucker. I kept up my attentions until her hips began bucking and those
vaginal muscles tried to squeeze my fingers again.

Now it was my turn. I raised her hips until she was on her knees
at the edge of the bed. I walked to the headboard and ripped the foil
on a condom next to her ear so she would know of its use. Then I slowly
rubbed my erection up the length of her valley, resting it gently atop
her anus.

"You know the plot practically cries out for this," I said.

"Oh God no! I don't do that. It's not a story! Don't, please!"

I pressed ever so slightly, then quickly moved down and slid into
her wet vagina in one slick, well oiled stroke. I swear she came on
that first stroke, perhaps from relief. I am embarrassed to say that I
did too, but I was so excited at having Janey that I stayed rock hard
and continued to stroke. When she came again, so did I. I let her fall
forward in exhaustion. Only later did I realize that she had not used
the safe word when I had been placed higher up. Oh well.

Time to raise the stakes. "Hey, that sounds like someone at the
door. Maybe Jerry's back. I'd better go see."

Turning over she pleaded, "Don't leave me tied up."

"I'll be right back. Just rest a second. We still have twenty
minutes, and maybe I'll bring back a friend." I quickly walked out. I
hadn't heard the door, but I wanted to plant the seed. What I had heard
was Jackie and Bob going to it in the living room. Bob had Jackie bent
over the breakfast bar as he rocked in and out. I tapped his shoulder
and asked him to follow me. I told him it would be worth it, but to
keep silent.

As we walked into the room, Janey whispered "Miles?" I nodded at
her crotch, and Bob's eyes widened. He walked quietly over and began to
push Janey's legs apart, one hand at each knee. Soon he was inches away
from her bare mound, and then he was eating her.

I bent over her head and kissed her lips. It took her a moment to
register, then, in a panicky voice "MILES?" "You're ok, relax and enjoy
it." "But who . . ." "Jerry, Bob, Jackie, does it really matter just
now?" She moaned.

Again I ripped the foil of a condom by her ear. She stiffened, but
did not say the safe word. I threw the unused condom over my shoulder
as Bob moved up to mount her. As he slowly entered her, I pushed back
her blindfold and walked out to the living room. I heard her ask him to
untie her; he answered "Not just yet, naughty wench." Then just the
sounds of sex.

I walked to my wife, preceded by a painfully hard penis, and pushed
her over to breakfast bar, just as Bob had done. "Noisy, aren't they?"
I asked as I plunged into Jackie. "Took your . . . Viagra, . . . did
you . . . old man?"she grunted.

While Bob and Jackie shared a lengthy good bye kiss a short while
later, Janey bent down to my ear, still smelling of strawberries, and
whispered, "Well Miles, it certainly wasn't nice." A perfunctory
kiss and then they were away. I wondered what Bob would do when he
found the coupon I had put in his wallet while he was still in with
Janey. My email address is at the top of this story. I hope he will
write and tell me.

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